#closest one is like 2 and a half hours away

[princeloww]

i wish we had trains. i want to go on a train

[marine-paint]

i wanted to diversify my wardrobe so you get doodles of me experimenting + a couple bonus ones for funsies

[chrissvalentine]

✧˖*° ࿐ drunk. ⋆· ˚ ༘ *

pairing: boyfriend!chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris being a gentleman, taking care of you after drunkenly stumbling into his apartment.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, use of ‘baby & ma’, lowercase intended

chris, laying down on his living room couch starts to get worried when his urgent texts to you don't go through. it's about 2 am, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago.

chris decides something must be wrong, and sends a text to one of your closest friends who was at the party with you.

as he begins his text, he hears slight tapping coming from the front door. thinking it may be a stray cat, or something like that, he brushes it off and continues his text to your friend.

chris is soon interrupted by you bursting through the door, with a smirk on your face. chris shoots up from the couch, and swiftly walks over to you.

he cups your face in his hands for a short moment before asking, "baby, where have you been? do you know what time it is?" he says as he flashes his phone screen in your face with the time on it.

you squint your eyes at the sudden brightness, and push his phone away as you begin to walk to the kitchen for a snack. as you walk, you begin to stumble. chris is right with you as he holds your waist steady.

"cmon baby, let's get you to bed. you've had a long night." he says as he tugs on your sleeve.

you protest, giving him puppy dog eyes, but he doesn't give in. he brings you into your shared room, and speaks softly to you.

"sit down baby, let's get you into something more comfy." he says as he motions towards the end of your guys' bed.

as you sit where he tells you, he begins taking off your heels. discarding them neatly towards the closet. he then speaks up again, "arms up"

you oblige, lifting your arms weakly. he takes off your dress, and replaces it with one of his t-shirts. he then takes off your shorts, again replacing them with one of your comfy shorts.

he walks to the bathroom, and shortly returns with makeup wipes. he takes one out of the package and begins to take off your makeup. all you can do is admire him as you can see how much effort he puts into your relationship, and always making sure your alright.

he continues to take your makeup off as you get lost in that thought. you begin to reminisce on all the times he's cared for you, even when he didn't have to.

"baby? are you okay?" he says as you snap back to the moment.

"yeah, i'm good. i- i just really love you.." you admit in a caring tone. he smiles at you lovingly before giving your forehead a kiss.

chris stands up, holding his hand out for you to grab. as you grab it, he walks both of you towards the head of the bed. you slowly lower yourself down, and chris is holding you gently.

as both of you lay down, chris is quick to pull you into his embrace. you fall asleep almost instantly. chris then whispers to you as you smile in your sleep, "i love you so much, ma."

[cutielando]

a baku special | l.n.

synopsis: in which Y/N is there for the Baku GP

my masterlist

To say that Lando was excited for the Azerbaijan weekend was an understatement. Baku was probably one of his favorite tracks, and he was excited to finally be back after a year away.

He was especially excited that you were finally able to attend the race, having been stuck at work ever since you came back from the summer break. You were just as bummed that you had to miss the Dutch Grand Prix, especially since his family was there for Lando, but you finally managed to get some time off of work to join your boyfriend.

The entire team was grateful that you were able to tag along, frankly. They never failed to let you know just how mopey Lando was every time he had to leave you behind at home, how down he was and how much it took to get him to even smile or seem excited about the race.

Poking fun at him with Jon and Will was one of your favorite things, in truth. Even though he always got embarrassed, you knew he secretly loved seeing you get along so well with the closest people to him from the team. 

The weekend started very promising, to say the least. Both Oscar and Lando seemed very consistent and quick during the runs they did in the free practice sessions, and everything was looking very well for the qualifying session later that Saturday.

Lando had a very good feeling about it, jumping up and down in excitement in the last half hour he had free before he had to get in the car.

“You look excited as hell” you commented as Lando brought you with him as he started getting ready, smiling at how bouncy and energetic he was.

“I have a good feeling about this weekend, just wait and see” he smiled, giving you one last kiss before putting on his balaclava and his helmet, making you press a kiss to it before he made his way towards the car.

It had become your little ritual whenever you attended a race, giving his helmet a little kiss before he would get into the car. It made him feel more confident when you did that, reminding him that you were there with him, supporting him like you always did. 

But as the minutes ticked by during Q1 and Lando exited the garage with 2 minutes left on the clock, your heart started racing a little and panic started creeping into your veins. 

They had left it very late, and with the amount of yellow flags that have been shown during every single session so far in the weekend, you worried that something was going to go wrong and he wouldn’t be able to set a fast lap in time.

And, unfortunately, that was exactly what had happened.

He was doing so well, his lap times were so much faster than his previous lap and he was so close to the finish line when the marshals decided to wave that yellow flag for Ocon’s car, ultimately ending your boyfriend’s quali run in that exact moment.

Slamming on the breaks just mere meters away from the finish line, Lando slowly limped back to the pits, the session over for him much earlier than anyone had expected.

You didn’t need to see or hear him to know how gutted and disappointed he was by the pure bad luck he had with the timing of that yellow flag, the fight for the World Championship now more intense than ever. There was no room for mistakes, everyone knew that, but what could you do when things out of your control happen?

Will was just as disappointed as Lando when he had to tell him he did not have the time to start another flying lap, Jon was just as sad as you were to see him aborting and coming back 17th, and you… you had no words left in your body.

Lando got out of the car quickly, taking off his helmet and balaclava before accepting the water bottle you had been holding for him, his expression neutral, but you could see the turmoil happening in his eyes.

You slowly approached him as he drank from his bottle and stared off into the distance, pressing a hand on his back as you leaned in to whisper in his ear “Do you want to go back to your driver room for a bit?” 

He nodded, his mind still somewhere else but he allowed you to pull him with you, not even glancing at anyone in the garage. He felt bad enough as it was, he didn’t want to see the disappointed faces of his entire team, it would only make him feel worse.

You silently walked through the motor home, smiling slightly at people passing you and praying that none of them say anything to Lando. He just needed to be alone and away from everyone for a moment, he didn’t need to be bombarded with questions from the media just yet.

He deserved to be alone for at least 5 minutes following that qualifying.

The moment you got to his room, you locked the door behind you as he sat down on a chair, staring at his feet with an absent look on his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked as you kneeled in front of him, taking the bottle out of his hands and taking his hands into yours.

“The championship battle is over” he muttered, biting his lip as he sniffled. 

You shook your head, squeezing his hands into yours.

“Don’t say that, don’t you dare say that. You had back luck, baby, everyone knows that. You would have been P2 if that yellow flag hadn’t happened, and you know it. It had nothing to do with your performance, baby. It was FIA's mistake, don’t beat yourself up over it. You’ll come back stronger in tomorrow’s race and you’ll show everyone what a brilliant driver you really are” you said, punctuating every single word.

“What if I can’t do it? P17 is not really an ideal start” he said, but the corner of his lip threatened to lift upwards.

He was slowly coming back to you, slowly realizing that this wasn’t the end of the world, and it certainly wasn’t the end in his championship battle with Max.

“You will fight like hell and you will come back from this. I’m sure others will receive penalties and you’ll move up either way, but you’re a brilliant driver and this is nothing but another challenge to prove to everyone just how good you are and how much you deserve to have a quick car and win with it” you declared, your heart growing fonder once you saw the small smile Lando had on his face.

Just for the moment, he didn’t care about the race tomorrow, or about the fact that he had to start at the back of the grid. The only thing he cared about in that moment was that you were there with him, and that was all he needed in order to push through.

Just you.

♡♡♡♡♡

The morning of the race was very busy for Lando, having woken up a good while before you and left for the track so he could discuss the strategy with his team thoroughly. 

You didn’t wake up until 10am, having taken your time to get ready before heading to the track alongside Jon. 

Meeting up with Lando took longer than you had expected, him finally emerging into the motorhome an hour and a half before he had to be in the car to start the race.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” you asked once he came into your view, joining you as you were grabbing breakfast.

He sighed, resting his elbows against the table and his head against his palm.

“I’ve been up since 7, going over different strategies since 8:30. I’m starting 15th, by the way. Pierre and Lewis are both starting from the pitlane, so that’s some good news” he said, making you smile and squeeze his arm.

“Remember what we talked about yesterday?” you asked, making him nod. “This is just another day where you have to drive your best and show everyone just how talented you are with a good car. Don’t think about how many cars you have to overtake, just go out there and have a good time. I have faith in you” you smiled and kissed the side of his head, resting your forehead against his shoulder as your hand caressed the hair at the back of his neck, the soft curls waving between your fingers.

“Sometimes I don’t know how I manage when you’re not here with me” he said, resting his head against yours.

You smile sadly, wishing that you could attend every single race in order to be with him. 

The two of you had had some talks during the course of your relationship, with Lando suggesting that if you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to work because he had more than enough money to comfortably support the both of you.

But you liked your job, you liked the feeling of belonging to a place just like Lando belonged in the racing world, and you liked earning your own money (even though you barely used any of it because Lando always insisted on paying for everything). But when there came times like these, when your fiancé just needed you to be there for him, you wanted nothing more than to quit your job and just follow him around the world.

That was a conversation you would have after the race, though.

“I love you, never forget that. I’m always here for you, even if I’m not physically here. I’ll support you from whatever corner of the world I am at, never doubt that” you turned his head towards you and kissed him, pouring every single emotion into the kiss.

Lando melted at the feeling of your lips against his, the feeling of kissing you never having less of an effect on him than it did when you first got together. The butterflies were still there, and he still giggled on the inside whenever you two kissed, like a teenager in love.

Because he was in love with you, head over heels, and he would never get over it when it felt so good.

“I love you too”

♡♡♡♡♡

Frankly, the race was one of the most stress-inducing races you had ever attended personally. 

You were biting your lip every time the screen would cut to Lando overtaking someone, the sight of the walls coming at him at very high speeds making your heart jump every single time.

But seeing him climb through the order as fast as he possibly could made you prouder than you thought you could ever be.

The last sting on the mediums trying to catch and overtake Max had you the most stressed. You knew it was a pretty high gamble, one that both Lando and the team were willing to make, but you also knew how badly Max defended his positions, whether he had the car to do it or not.

Painful flashbacks of their fight in Austria came at you with high speeds, the unfortunate retirement on Lando’s side with just a couple of laps to go still haunting the both of you.

But then, he got closer and closer to Max, with fewer and fewer laps to go, and then he was in front of him. You didn’t remember cheering as loudly as you did in that moment with the team, not even when he won in Miami or Zandvoort.

Crossing the finish line in P4 was more than anyone could have wanted, and with Oscar winning the Grand Prix and McLaren leading the Constructors Championship, it was an amazing day for everyone in the team, every single person involved.

But especially for Lando.

You were anxiously and excitedly waiting for him to get back to the garage, ready to congratulate him on a superb drive that he should be nothing but proud of.

And then when you finally saw him approaching, you couldn’t stop yourself from running over to him, jumping straight into his arms, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and your legs locked around his waist.

“I’m so fucking proud of you” you whispered against his neck, tears running down your cheeks from how proud you were of him.

“Who would have thought, right?” he joked, sighing against your neck as he took in your scent and your presence, his adrenaline starting to wear off as your presence calmed him down.

The world around you seemed to not even exist anymore, it was only the two of you locked in a tight embrace, ignoring every noise other than the steady breathing and heartbeat between you.

“I never doubted you for a second. I know what you’re capable of and you proved everything today on track” you lifted your head from his neck and took his face in your hands, not wasting another second before pressing your hungry lips against his, kissing him like he was your oxygen and your life depended on him.

And so, in those moments, after such a disastrous start to the weekend, the love of your life prevails, with you by his side.

Like always.

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REQUEST HERE

[lavandulawrites]

Hello first timer here, May I humbly request for Yandere Nanami Kento wherein His darling locked themselves inside the closet and he is getting progressively angry and insane ,but just as he is about to break the door his darling unlocks it

Hiding In the Closet

Yandere Nanami Kento x reader

This is really short so I apologise.

I noticed when I was about to post it that I had miss read your request so I had to rewrite it＿|￣|○ I still hope you enjoy<3

Masterlist

Warnings: mention of murder and punishment

Word count: 603

Nanami’s voice was getting louder and louder. You shrunk in on yourself, holding your breath. He was starting to get furious which was a rarity. You were hiding in your closet trying to just disappear. His footsteps got louder. “Please get out [Name]” his voice irritated.

Two hours ago Nanami left the flat form some grocery shopping. You had decided that today you were going to escape the clutches of the man who claim he loved you so much that he had to keep you safe. You had a proper plan and you were determined. Your freedom was only centimetres away. You had slipped a small screwdriver he had used for fixing the lamp in the living room, in you pocket. To your surprise the overworked man didn’t notice the little tool missing. You had packed some crackers in your pockets so that you had some energy when you escaped. The last thing you wanted was to get exhausted before you knew you were out of reach for the blond man. You unscrewed the bolts keeping the window shut and exhaled. This is it.

You were just about to climb out of the window when the front door opened. You froze in your tracks and didn’t dare to turn. Maybe he didn’t notice you?

“[Name] what are you doing?” he’s deep voice sending shivers down your spine. You slammed the window shut before you could make your escape. His hazel eyes boring into yours. You turned on you heel and ran out of the room. You could hear him call for you. He was mad.

You hugged your knees as silent tears rolled down your cheeks. The small crystals wetted your socks, but you couldn’t care less. You could hear his footsteps approaching. Of course he knew where you were hiding, he just wanted you to feel a small sense of freedom.

Why couldn’t you understand that he only wanted the best for you? Why wouldn’t you let him protect you? Nanami sighed as he ran a hand through his light hair. His patience was really running thin. “Please come out” he squatted before the closest. He could see your curled up figure. “I will count to 10”.

“1”

“2”

“3”

“4”

“5”

“6”

“7”

“8”

“9”

Just as he was about to finish counting she creaked open the closet doors and crawled out like a scared animal. He’s stern features soften. He beckoned you into his strong arms. “You broke my trust. I trusted you to stay put, but no you decided to try to sneak out of a third floor flat. It’s clear that you aren’t ready for the outside world” he sighed as he cradled you. His strong hand gently stroking your back. His breath fanning over your ear. You were shivering. You knew all to well how easy it was for him to snap you in half. You had been a witness to what he did to your dear loved ones. He had told you that it was their punishment for tainting something as pure as you. “It’s a shame really. And I who had planned a nice vacation for us” he sighed.

He lowered his face so his lips were mere centimetres from your ear. “It seems that I have to cancel our vacation. It’s a shame. I haven’t had a vacation for years you know? You really had to ruin it didn’t you?” his voice velvety, almost concealing his condescending words. Someone as him didn’t deserve such an angelic voice. He lifted you up. “What punishment do you deserve hmm…? I have to give it some thought…”

[luvhiromi]

emo boy! | choso

synopsis: fucking at the back of hot topic. Choso works at hot topic and you and your friends were shopping at the mall. inspired by Ayesha Erotica’s “Emo Boy”. fyi this is not complete yet idk if people are gonna like it so tell me if u want a part 2.

c/w: suggestive content and words, choso calls you sweetheart/sweets, muscle kink if u squint.

pairing: emo!choso x bimbo!reader

You and your friends, Jessica and Sarah, are on a mission to find dresses for your upcoming graduation at the mall. After hours of searching, you’ve diverted your attention to spending all your money on unnecessary cute and pretty clothes, needs for graduation long forgotten. Bags hanging on your forearms, you walk around the mall, giggling and gossiping with your friends. As you head toward the next shop, you spot a cute top in Hot Topic.

“Girlies, do you mind stopping by Hot Topic?” you ask abruptly, eyeing a cute top that would be perfect for the jeans you just bought. “Isn’t that top just the perfect match for my jeans?” you ask, directing your gaze toward the item. Your friends, who were walking, come to a halt and look in the direction you’re staring at.

“Hmmm, that’ll suit you for sure, babe,” Jessica, one of your closest friends, says, agreeing with you and nodding toward the store. “Let’s go inside; Hot Topic does have cute tops.” You and Sarah nod in agreement with Jessica’s suggestion and walk toward Hot Topic.

You go straight for the top you've been eyeing, but can't find your size. Looking around for assistance, you spot a worker helping another customer and approached him. You wait for him to finish before asking him for help.

As you wait, you watch the worker, admiring his striking appearance and build, especially his captivating back muscles. His long black hair is tied in a messy half-up ponytail. He’s using a “My Chemical Romance” merch and black jeans. You catch your breath and instinctively gulp, unable to tear your eyes away from someone so breathtakingly attractive. Biting your lips, you take him in once more, but suddenly he turns his back to you.

“Hi, can I help you find something?” he asked with a small smile on his face. I quickly shift my focus from his build to his face, which has prominent eye bags that make him look quite tired. Despite this, I can't deny that he’s still attractive. If I said he wasn’t hot, than I’d be lying. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with confusion as to why you’re just standing there without answering.

“Ma’am?” You flinched slightly at his words, finally snapping out of your trance. “Right! Uh, I just need help finding my size.” A light blush creeps onto your cheeks as you realize you’ve been ogling him the whole time. He chuckles lightly at your reaction. “Let me see what we have in the back; I’ll be back shortly, sweetheart.” Your blush deepens at the nickname, seeing your reaction he changed his mind. “How about you come with me so it’s faster, yeah?” he asks, nodding toward the back of the shop.

“Huh? Are you sure I’m allowed?” you ask, confused by his suggestion. “Of course, sweets. It’ll just be a sec,” he replies with a reassuring smile. You nod, and he guides you toward the back. As you look around trying to find your friends, you realize they’re nowhere to be seen. Not letting it bother you, you continue to follow him. He opens the door to the back and motions for you to come inside.

“Um, are you really sure I’m allowed in there?” you ask, still somewhat skeptical. “Oh, sweetheart, you really have no clue?” He chuckles at your reaction when you look at him, puzzled by his words. “I saw you ogling me, so I thought you understood what I meant. Let me rephrase it for you, sweets.”

He leans closer and whispers softly, sending shivers down your spine, “Wanna fuck at the back of Hot Topic?” Your breath catches, and you blush furiously at his words. “What?” you manage to ask. He gently grabs your wrist and guides you toward the storage room.

and… the rest is history :) pt 2? 

a/n: i got this idea yesterday and wrote it today. don't know if u guys like it or not. if someone have made this before lemme know so i can give credits. thank ya!

[scarrletmoon]

okay i know the Discourse™️ has been going on for way too long at this point, but

i think some people outside of the OFMD fandom don’t actually get why we’re particularly annoying about this show

OFMD is not the first queer show to ever exist. if anything, it's a late entry in decades of queer media. over a year and a half since the first few episodes aired, everyone knows that OFMD is queer. that doesn't make it particularly special

but back in March? this is the trailer that dropped in February of 2022, 2 weeks before the premier. if you're used to seeing queer chemistry in shows that aren't intended to be queer, you might see the hints between Ed and Stede here. but to most people? it's just a silly little pirate comedy. just guys being dudes. the trailer doesn't even hint at the other 2 canonical queer relationships in the show -- the closest it gets suggesting romance is the music and the pink in the poster

so when people watched this show in March 2022, they went into it expecting subtext and nothing else. to them, it was like watching Sherlock or Supernatural or Merlin in the 2010s. if you were in any of those fandoms -- especially Sherlock and Supernatural -- you know what it was like; constant jokes at our expense, being mocked for creating explicit fanwork, made fun of by the creators and within the show itself. if we saw queer subtext, that was our problem. this was a time when you pretended NOT to be in fandom, for fear of ridicule. we kept our fanwork to ourselves, we DID NOT share it with the cast, and we accepted that our favourite ships would probably never be canon. maybe one day, if we were lucky, we'd have a show where the subtext wasn't mockery as much as deliberate foreshadowing -- but that had to be YEARS away

right?

OFMD was never billed as a queer show, not in the beginning. there was no LGBTQ+ tag on (HBO) Max, it wasn't on anyone's list of upcoming queer shows in 2022, it flew under the radar through most of its first season. this was a show about pirates, and sure, some of them were queer. but not the LEADS. if you think they're romantically involved, that's must be fandom brain poisoning

except the 9th episode aired, and they kissed. and the show said "you're not crazy for thinking they have chemistry because they really do. it's been a romance this whole time". and in the 10th episode, Stede realizes that he's in love

(not mandating you watch this clip if you don't care for the show, but there's something that feels particularly earth shattering about no one saying the word gay but knowing that Stede's realizing he is, that it's completely unambiguous and explicit in a way that only straight romances are usually allowed to be)

this is why people freaked out about this show. no one knew. even the creator, David Jenkins, was surprised when WE were surprised that it was gay for real -- he set out to write a love story, using all the tried and true beats of a rom com. he'd never even heard of the term queerbaiting. he looked at historical Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet and thought "oh, there's something here" and just...wrote that, with very little fanfare, like it was inevitable. like it was obvious. of course Jim and Pam end up together. of course Buttercup and Westley end up together. what kind of disappointing ending would it be if You've Got Mail ended with the main characters just going their separate ways?

so of course Ed and Stede are in love

look, i get it. we're annoying and won't shut the fuck up about this show that seems mediocre at best. i watched the whole thing back in march, thought "huh, that was cool" and was sure that i'd forget about it in a few days

an hour after looking at fanart on twitter, i was lost in the fucking sauce

there's just so much to unpack from a mere 10 episodes. it covers racism, toxic masculinity, gender expression, sexuality, trauma and abuse. and i don't think we should overlook the fact that the non-white characters in this show get to be fully human in a way i haven't seen in my favourite shows in recent memory

additionally, most OFMD are 25 or older. we're not people who've been spoiled by queer rep, who don't get how hard it used to be, how you'd have to grovel for scraps, how shipping and fanfiction was a way to find queer rep where we thought there never would be. we've been here. we're annoying about this show because for a lot of us, it's the first time we've been treated like our queerness isn't an anomaly that needs to be relegated to its own section, that needs to be praised for the bare minimum of acknowledging that we exist. it's not pulling punches to avoid scaring away a straight audience. it just is.

OFMD for me is like when i watched Black Panther for the first time and realized that this is what white people felt all the time. have there been other black superhero movies? of course! does Disney fucking suck? BOY does it. but that was the first time i got to sit in a movie theater and watch a mainstream film that looked at Africa and said "look at how beautiful you are, exactly as you are"

and idk. i think that's really cool

[luvjunie]

— Unforgettable ( 2 )

part one • part two • part three • part four

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

contains: plot progression, budding feelings, a little plot twist

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 2,479

a/n: this was done a while ago but i wasn’t satisfied so i kept revising it 😭

prev | next

You honestly thought that this would be like any other time, that this wouldn’t become anything more than a few imessage games, or some tedious snaps back and forth.

The same old story. A guy thinks you’re cute, gets your number, you guys talk for a little while and then eventually, they fade into the blur with the other failed advancements of your past.

You thought he would be like any other guy. A guy who texts you at odd hours of the night with only one thing on his mind. A guy who fills your head with the false hope of things progressing anywhere past those three, god-forsaken letters used to ask what you were up to.

But your first conversation lasted for multiple hours and you hadn’t even realized. It was like you’d skipped the stranger phase and become best friends in mere moments, like you’d known him for years and were simply catching up. You were so caught up in him until you’d looked up to check the time in the top left corner of your phone and read ‘12:02 AM’ , the small numbers leaving you lost as you thought back to where the time had run off to.

As the days went on and you found yourself glued to your phone more than usual, you realized he was was nothing like those other boys. So far from it you were reminded that ones who genuinely liked you for who you were instead of what you could offer them actually existed.

And everytime you visited that same corner store, whether it was to pick up a few quick groceries or dry goods upon your parent’s request, you secretly hoped you’d run into him, though it took you a little while to admit that fact to yourself. Your head always remained on a swivel in a place like Brooklyn, but more often than not you’d actually been on the lookout for a certain face. Doubtful as always, you tried to remind yourself that it was probably only you who felt this way.

To say you were surprised when bump-ins turned into questions about what the other was doing for the rest of the day would be an understatement. Suddenly the two of you had plans you hadn’t anticipated, the best kind of plans because they were spontaneous, exciting and spawned in the moment from the sudden realization that you wanted to remain in this person’s company. Then hangouts started getting more frequent, and glances towards the other started lasting longer, staying longer, and ending in an erupting fit of shy giggles and laughs to distract from the rapid beating of your hearts. Soon he started insisting you walked on the inside of the sidewalk and him closest to the street when the two of you were together, ‘just in case’. And your hands would brush against the other as the two of you walked, sometimes on accident, others on purpose. You couldn’t find a word to describe the way you felt when your fingers stopped jutting away at the slightest of contact with each other, but instead intertwined. Maybe ‘euphoric’ would do your fluttering heart enough justice.

And before you knew it, you’d wake up in the morning, not just expecting or hoping a text from him would be on your lock screen, but knowing it would be there. Knowing that when you’d respond to him, and tell him that you did sleep well and you hoped he had too, he’d respond back with those words you’d happily grown used to hearing from him and him only.

“I miss you.”

And that’s when you realized that Miles Morales was not just ‘any’ guy.

—

A month and a half.

You’d known this boy for all of a month and a half, and somehow you were already accompanying him to the front door of his parents’ apartment.

But honestly, it was neither of your faults. The both of you were hanging out, slushees in hand and the conversation lively and he didn’t want it to end. Neither of you did, so you kept finding more things to talk about.

He offered to walk you home once the two of you finished your slushees, and he knew he’d have to pass his building on the way but he couldn’t care less. Miles would walk across town if it meant he could be around you longer, and he just wanted to make sure you were home safe.

The two of you had barely passed the building when his mother, who was on the fire escape watering her plants spotted her son strolling with a girl she’d yet to meet, and she just couldn’t contain her excitement.

She yelled down to him that she was making dinner, and that he better bring ‘his cute little girlfriend’ up with him. That woman’s voice could carry quite the distance, so it was without a doubt in her mind that her son heard her once she witnessed how he stopped dead in his tracks. It caught you by surprise, but what confused you even more than the random woman shouting over your head was how willing you were to accept the label she’d just given you.

You blinked upwards, lips rolled inward and silence falling over the two of you for a beat until you spoke up.

“Was that—“

“My mom? Mm-hm.”

“Did she just call me your girlfriend?” You stifled a giggle.

He sighed and rubbed the side of his face, obviously embarrassed at his mother’s forwardness.

“I think so, yeah. I’m sorry about that, she’s—“

“No, no, it’s fine. Really.” You shrugged, then flashed him a smile, one he was glad to see. “At least she called me cute.”

—

Now, here you were, nervously chewing at the inside of your lip as you climbed the stairwell, glancing over at Miles every few seconds to see if he was as close to shitting his pants as you were. He was, hands shoved into his pockets and gaze set straight, as if he would trip and fall if he didn’t plan out exactly where to plant his feet on the steps.

Your original plan was to go home, change into some comfy clothes and crawl into your bed to watch Criminal Minds and indulge in the ridiculous crush you had on Spencer Reid, but now you’d somehow gotten wrapped into playing girlfriend to a boy you actually wouldn’t mind having as your boyfriend, at all.

You weren’t anywhere near ready to unpack that, so you broke through your thoughts with the one floating in the back of your mind.

“What if they don’t like me?” you blurted nervously.

“They will.” Miles sounded sure of his answer, his tone upped a positive pitch.

You hated how notorious men were for giving such vague and simple answers that often did nothing to ease your worries. What if he was just saying that?

“Well, do they usually like the… Uh,” You struggled to find the right term to describe the both of you. “Friends? Peers? You bring around?” You adjusted your crop top as much as you could, mentally cursing yourself for not choosing the crewneck you’d rudely swept past in your wardrobe earlier.

“Ehh…” He shot you a look you couldn’t quite read and turned his hand in a so-so motion, which only increased the intensity of your anxiety. “But you’re different, I can tell.”

“What does that even mean?” you exclaimed, ready to turn around and go back down the stairs. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can!” In the midst of a laugh, Miles grabbed your arm before you could make a break for it and gently brought you to a stop in front of his door. “They’re not gonna eat you, just be yourself.” He reassured you— warm, honey hued eyes catching yours in the way they did when you’d first met him. “I like you, so I know they will too, okay?”

Something in the way he was looking at you made you feel as if there was a longing within his words, something he wanted to tell you but didn’t know how to word, and you found it easy to believe him.

You glanced down at your hand that somehow had fallen into his and allowed yourself a breath. “Alright, I’m ready.”

—

After dinner had gone so well, you felt ridiculous for being nervous to meet his parents in the first place. They were probably the sweetest couple you’d ever met.

When they asked how the two of you met, you struggled to hold back your laughter at Miles’ facial expression as you informed them that you two didn’t go to the same school, and that you’d actually met him after he made you drop your lunch on the floor. Rio teased him for it, and dove into a multitude of instances where his clumsiness got the best of him, and eventually that conversation led you all down the rabbit hole of how her and Jeff met.

“I worked in this little coffee shop after class,” Rio smiled to herself as she recalled back to her young years. “And Miles’ father would come in everyday and order the same exact thing. A chocolate chip muffin—.”

“And a caffé americano with two splendas.” They stated at the same time, and Jeff’s brows raised when he looked over at his wife unbelievingly.

“Honey, how’d you remember that?”

“I remember everything.” Rio grinned proudly, and you swore you were kicking your feet under the table.

Miles had heard this recanted almost a million times and was nearly dying from boredom, while you on the other hand sat and listened intently, chin propped in your hands and your attention unwavering throughout the rest of their story. His parents were the spitting image of the kind of love you saw in those old shows and movies in the 90s, the kind of love you unfortunately never got to see between your own parents.

A kind of love so deep rooted and engrossed in the way they acted with each other that it gave you a glimpse of their younger selves; how in love they were back then reflecting onto now, even through their playful bickering and scolding when the other asked you too many questions about yourself.

“Your parents are the cutest.” You’d whispered to Miles, a laugh hidden behind your hand when Rio swatted Jeff with a kitchen towel.

“Please don’t encourage them.” He joked.

You offered to help Rio with the plates once you all had finished eating, but she insisted that you were a guest, and shooed you off with a big smile. Miles gritted a hushed complaint at her with wide eyes as he ushered you away but his mom couldn’t care less, she was just happy to finally see her son taking interest in someone again.

His room was nice, had a cozy, lived-in feel to it while still remaining tidy. It was colorful and resemblant of who’d you grown to know him as, and the walls were decorated with some graphic posters that you took notice of while he hurriedly tossed the pink teddy bear on his bed into his closet. Random papers pinned to the wall here and there gave you glimpses into the sketchbook you knew he had. Art was something he talked about so passionately whenever he got the chance, especially when the both of you would pass by some graffiti tags depending on where you walked.

“Your room definitely screams you.” you nodded.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

He made himself comfortable on his bed and you settled for the swivel chair beside his desk, and when your eyes scanned over the surface and caught sight of a red milk crate filled with what you assumed were vinyl records, your interest was quickly piqued. “No way, are these vinyls? How many do you have?” You gaped and leaned forward, ready to find out for yourself. “These are so cool!”

Your fingers gently combed through his impressive collection as he laid on his back, throwing a small ball he’d found on the floor up into the air above him, then catching it with his open hand when it came back down.

Miles couldn’t stop looking at you the entirety of dinner, and hadn’t realized he’d even been doing so until he looked down at his plate to see he was much farther behind than everyone else. He’d direct his eyes elsewhere only for them to fall back on how enamored you were with everything he held close to him, then his mind would follow suit and drift off into thoughts of how well you fit into his little bubble almost immediately, and how enamored he was with you. With how your nose would crinkle when you smiled or your eyes would light up as soon as you heard something that interested you, or how you’d made his mom laugh so hard that she snorted, something she hadn’t done in years.

The feeling you gave him was weird, the kind of weird that you welcomed after deeming it safe enough to stay. The kind of feeling that made his brain foggy and had him mulling over the right words to say and the right things to do in hopes you’d like him as much as he did you.

“My mom really likes you.” he informed suddenly, so deep in his thoughts that he’d completely tuned out what you said. It was a way for him to test the waters, to gauge your reaction through something he figured you knew by now, and just maybe you’d see past the terrible disguise he’d posed to timidly introduce his own feelings.

“Really?” you tried not to sound too excited when you looked back at him, hands gently pulling from the records to settle back in your lap.

His wrist flicked, propelling the ball into the air above him once more. “Of course she does,”

Your eyes mindlessly followed the ball when you asked. “How do you know?”

“Didn’t you see her face?” He laughed. “I promise once you leave, she won’t shut up about you.”

You grinned sheepishly, and went to tuck a stray braid behind your ear. “I couldn’t have made that good of an impression.”

“You had her approval as soon as you called her Mrs. Morales.”

Your head tilted in question, eyes panning to the ceiling in thought. “Isn’t that normal? Calling someone’s parent by their last name?”

A comfortable silence settled, just for a moment.

“You’d think so.” A smile curled Miles’ lips, the memory of when he’d introduced the first girl he’d ever liked to his parents flashing into his mind; his interest in tossing the ball paused momentarily as images from the past flooded his thoughts.

Wait… Why was he thinking about her?

taglist: @burymeinside @secret-ssociety @whatamidoing89 @urmotherswhor3 @valovesyou @inlovewithfictionalppl @edgyficuselastica @motherwanda @mybfmiles @dracohatesyou @axeoverblade @miumiulicious @sukisprettyface @decapitadedyoshi @gwennesy @simpnotapimp @kanvis @cleo-dearts @wonylvxz @asimpwhohatedlife @toneystank-3000

(some tags didn’t work, sorry!)

[readychilledwine]

A Night to Celebrate

Rhysand Week Day Two - Carynthian

Summary - After shoving his biggest accomplishment in the face of all who didn't believe in him, Rhysand is just happy to celebrate with you

Warnings- alcohol use, parallel between real world issues people who are multiracial face, implied bi-Rhys

A/n- Happy @officialrhysandweek day 2! I touched on something slightly that I, as a parent of a multiracial child, have noticed already. I imagine being carnythian meant more than just a title to Rhysand when he earned it. I imagine it was a fairly big, "F you," to the full blooded Illyrian males who doubted him due to his half Illyrian status.

Also, I had to redraft this twice. Tumblr evidently didn't want me to post it. Perhaps this is a sign 🫠🤣

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

Rita's was loud as Rhysand continued blowing his father's money. Shots here, shots there, another round here. He had even snuck Azriel and Cassian in so the males could experience Velaris for the first time.

You were keeping watch, ensuring your closest friend wasn't going to get caught by his father as he boasted his accomplishments to any female, and as he got more intoxicated male, who would listen. You rolled your eyes as the three illyrians took another shot before heading out to dance.

They deserved the happiness they had, the sense of pride and celebration rolling off of them in waves. They had accomplished a goal so few had, and you knew for Rhysand that this meant more than he would ever be able to fully tell his two brothers by choice.

Rhysand had always told you during lessons that he felt like he was stuck. Not Illyrian enough for most Illyrians. Not high fae enough for the prissy upper class. Just stuck. Carynthian was a status so rarely earned during the dreaded Blood Rite and such a high honor, for him as a half Illyrian male to have earned it, fairly and Azriel and Cassian? It was something no one could rip from him, a title no one could ever take away.

It was his crowning moment. His biggest accomplishment. You knew he'd be riding this high for hours to come just based on the way he kept coming over to you, hand resting on your hips as he grabbed his drink. "I wish you would dance with me," he shouted over the music.

"Can't watch for our fathers if I do!" But you wished you could. This was a big moment for him. For all three of them. It had been enough for you to sneak out the high window of your father's home to play look out, enough for you to have one drink with him and break rules of what was considered proper from High Born High Fae female.

He seemed upset by your response, "Are you not having fun? Y/n.." He yelled for Azriel and Cassian, grabbing the three of you and winnowing somewhere much chiller than you were used to.

“Where did you take me,” You pulled back enough to glare, but not enough to lose his body heat in the icy wind.

“Mother's cabin,” his words were slurred, tone nonchalant as Azriel tripped and hiccuped, opening the doorway. “We can party here. No worries about our dear old fathers.”

Unceremoniously, you found yourself tossed on the couch while the three of them continued drinking and yelling, dance moves that made you wonder if you needed to cut them off coming out. You now had your own wine, nursing it as you laughed with them.

They went down one by one, and true to legend, the biggest fell the hardest. Cassian had to be carried upstairs by his barely there brothers, laid in his bed as he continued slurring words of celebration in his sleep. Azriel went down an hour later, shadows having the decency to move him to his bed so he could rest comfortably.

It left you and Rhysand, the heir holding a hand you to and forcing you to come sit under the stars with him. “I did it,” he whispered.

“You did,” you responded. “Without using your magic. Without your wings. Without your father.”

“Fuck that guy,” a ghost of a smile came to his lips. “I can do anything.”

You immediately confirmed, “You can. Regardless of what anyone tells you. You are capable of all things you set your mind to. We all are. High fae, low fae, Illyrian, rich or poor. We are more than our status."

He laid back on the porch, eyes shut with full smile, “Careful, Darling, those words might go to my head." He took a deep breath, "None of these-” he paused as if looking for the right word. “These meat for brains assholes can take it from me. Or Azriel. Or Cassian.”

You pulled your knees to your chest and nodded. “They won't even be able to strip you of it when you become High Lord. High Lord and Carynthian. Two of the most powerful titles in the Night Court.”

“I can think of more powerful titles,” his hand ran ran up and down your spine. “And I'm feeling bold enough tonight to try to earn it too.”

You had gone still until him pulled you down to him by your hair, looking up at his slightly hazy eyes. “And what title is that?”

“Yours,” he said plainly. “I want to be yours.”

200 years later, he still was yours, sighing dramatically as he looked over papers. You knocked softly, carrying the son you two had welcomed just a few months ago, “Babe, you have less than an hour to get ready to go out with Azriel and Cassian.”

He glanced up at you, “What?”

“Don't tell me you forgot,” you bounced your child on your hip, reaching to take the report from him. “It's the anniversary of-”

“Oh! I have to go! Dad brain!” He ran out of the door smiling, leaving you and the baby stunned at the rate the new father left at.

He ran back in moments later, kissing you hard before finally picking up his son. “Daddy is going out tonight, okay buddy?” He carried him down the stairs, you following, watching as small hands touched Rhysand's face. “Let me tell you a story really quick, though. One about daddy, and Uncle Az, and Uncle Cass and this biiiiiiiiiig mountain where I earned my 3rd favorite title.”

Father. Mate. Carynthian. High Lord.

You knew the titles well. Knew the order of importance he gave them.

“Once upon a time, daddy was taken from his bed in the middle of the night..”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[queenofmistresses]

A Feyd x reader x paul

Where reader is Paul’s concubine and Feyd falls for her. And Feyd wants her as his Na-Baronness/Baronness and says something along the lines of “with Paul you are just one lady of many but with me you are the sole Na-Baroness”

part 1!!! splitting this up so I have some more time to write part 2! hope you like it!!

Paul Atriedes has multiple concubines, gifts from his father. When he was 15 I was ‘chosen’ to be one of his concubines. It wasn’t too bad to be honest, it is a safe position and role in the house. We each have our own rooms, we do not have to worry about food or clothes, and he is overall respectful of us. He does however, enjoy showing us off, especially during diplomatic events where other houses visit the planet or if he travels to theirs. Never all of us at once of course but he makes us get all dressed up when there are visitors even if we are not being paraded around with him, and he drags one of us around to all the events with him. It is tiresome but we really do have it better than we would if we had not been chosen for this role, we would likely just be servants otherwise, so we try not to complain.

This event is an unusual one. The Baron of Geidi Prime is visiting along with his nephews. It is rare for there to be direct communication between the houses, the Duke and the Baron not wanting to be around each other for extended periods of time despite the advantages of being allies. This time, they’re staying for a full week. From what I’ve overheard through staff as well as listening into conversations, if this event goes well then there will be more like these in the future.

On the first evening of their stay, the Duke holds a stupidly fancy social event for the members of the house and the guests. The poor kitchen staff have been slaving away to cook enough food, and the right food, to deal with the Baron’s greedy appetite. The diet of the Harkonnens’ is hard enough to prepare. I’ve offered to help where I can but it has still been a big effort for the staff. And I haven’t had much time myself with preparing for the event. As it is such a big event, Paul has planned to bring more than one of us, which has included me, so I’ve had to ensure I am dressed up enough. 

Honestly it is humiliating, being dressed up like a doll, to be property to a man. I don’t know how Jessica did it before the Duke fell in love with her. Though, she was able to wear her Bene Gesserit uniform and it would be considered rude to expect any different. 

I have always been fascinated by the Harkonnen culture, though my studies had to stop when I became property of Paul. Their traditions and their ways of ruling, their methods of training for battle, it is so vastly different from other houses I have studied or interacted with. I’m hoping that being shown off at this event would at least give me the chance to converse with the Harkonnen soldiers and learn more about their planet. 

Paul plans to enter with my closest friend, Helena, and me and a couple others will enter independently. I feel sorry for Helena, but I know she does not so much being dragged around as much as me. 

I arrive about an hour after the event begins, knowing it would be better than entering right at the start where there are less people. This way, people take less notice. I find myself a drink and move to the edges of the room, watching people interact and getting an idea of the guests. I’m aware of someone’s gaze on me, but it is a feeling I have become used to and choose to take no notice of it. My eyes find Helena and Paul and to my disappointment they spot me too. 

I watch him trail his eyes down me, I can’t help but feel disgusted by it. They begin to walk towards me and I attempt to plaster a grin to my face. Paul’s arm immediately reaches for my hips, pulling me into him as he continues to inspect me. “You look gorgeous,” he whispers, leaning close to my ears, “I can feel everyone’s jealousy.”

Truthfully, I’m not sure he can, half the time I can’t tell if he is trying to convince himself or me. Probably himself. He loosens his grip on Helena in favour of clinging onto me and encourages me to move further into the room with him. He doesn’t really speak to anyone, to my frustration, and his grip on my hip is ridiculously tight, like he’s expecting me to run at any minute. 

After a while we’re approached by a Harkonnen, he addresses Paul first, tilting his head down in a subtle, but polite, bow. Then he faces me and I realise who it is, the youngest nephew of the baron, na-baron Feyd-Rautha. He lifts my hand up to press a kiss to the back of it, “My lady,” he greets me. 

I tilt my head down and bring myself down to a slight curtsy, “My lord na-baron, it is a pleasure.” I have heard many stories of the na-baron, his impressive skills in the fighting arena, his cruelty to his servants, his cannibal concubines. It was intimidating, but strangely fascinating, as with much of Harkonnen culture. The idea that I was actually meeting him, and he seemed to be showing me some sign of respect, is unbelievably exciting. 

I watch the two men converse for a few short minutes before Paul says goodbye, forgetting about my presence and walking away from us to find something else to do. I feel quite awkward left standing with the na-baron, but he seems to be watching me quite intensely. I’m just about to excuse myself from the conversation when he starts speaking to me. “So you are one of his concubines?” He doesn’t seem to say it with any judgement or pity, which is unusual. So much so that I can’t help but let out a small chuckle. 

“Yes, I am.” I struggle to come up with anything more to say in response. He seems to watch my face for a moment when he hums. 

“Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the balcony?” he indicates towards the doors subtly, “I would like to speak more with you but it is rather crowded in here.” I try to squash my enthusiasm at the chance of having a proper conversation with him, I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

“That would be lovely na-baron.” I bow my head slightly and let him lead the way to the balcony, and watch as he shuts the doors behind us. I lean against the railings and feel him stand next to me, looking ahead of us with me. 

After a short moment he starts to ask about life as a part of the Atreides household, watching me as if I was talking about the most important things. Somehow it feels easy to talk to him, as if we’re old friends. I work up the confidence to ask about his culture and life on Geidi Prime and he tells me about the rituals he does before a fight in an arena. It is odd, his stature is so sure and serious, yet at the same time he seems almost comfortable. 

We talk for what feels like hours but is probably only one, before I hear the doors open, breaking the bubble we’ve put ourselves in. Paul stands at the doors watching me for a moment before he requests my company - it’s not actually a request but it would be rude to just drag me away in front of other people. I turn to the na-baron and curtsy, thanking him for his time before taking the arm Paul has out for me to hold and letting him pull me away from the event. 

Over the week that the Harkonnen house is visiting, I find myself in the company of the na-baron again. I don’t know how it kept happening but he seemed to turn up any moment that I was not already preoccupied. He would offer to walk me to wherever it is I was going to next, or escort me on a walk around the gardens, and we would quickly find ourselves in various conversations. 

I found myself growing very fond of the na-baron, whenever I was on my own for more than a moment I would hope that we would bump into each other. And when we did, I would have to stop myself from grinning far too wide at his presence. Despite all of the stories I’ve heard, he never came across as frightening or unkind, in fact he’s listened to me ramble on about extremely mundane things many times and even seemed to enjoy it. 

On the last day of the visit, we take a walk around the garden together again, and I somehow find myself complaining about my situation with Paul. I can’t even remember what caused me to go down this tangent but before I know it I’ve been rambling for far too long. I grow self-conscious and stop myself from going further, “My apologies na-baron, I shouldn’t be complaining, I am luckier than some in my position.” I mutter out, staring at the ground below us as we walk. 

I hear him hum in thought beside me and come to a stop, prompting me to do the same. “I believe I understand, you feel… overlooked, like if you were gone then he wouldn’t care but at the same time trapped because you’re not allowed to leave despite that.” He seems like he’s deep in his thoughts but what he says explains it so well so I let myself nod at him. At my confirmation he hums again before continuing the walk. 

When we arrive back I go to thank him for escorting me but I stop when he looks as though he wishes to say something. “I would like to stay in contact after we leave your planet,” he says, not letting any emotions show on his face again. I let a smile show on my face at his request and nod. 

“I would like that as well na-baron, that would be lovely.” He nods and takes my hand, bowing down and pressing a light kiss to the back of it and I bow my head down in response. 

“Thank you for keeping me company during my visit, I will write to you when I return to Geidi Prime.” He promises before he walks away from me. I watch him go and let  myself feel the slight giddy feeling at the idea of continuing contact with him. 

[sturniololoco]

could you write a sturniolo sister fic where matt gets a girlfriend and the sister is the closest with matt but the girlfriend is horrible to the sister and when she tries to tell matt he doesn’t believe her and they get into some kind of argument until matt hears his gf say something to the sister?

Sister In Law Gone Wrong

Sturniolo Little sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

Warnings: language, an annoying bitch?

Note: I'm so sorry if your name is Brittney btw

SLS/N's POV

Moving in with my brothers was exciting, but hard. especially when I found out Matt has a girlfriend.

In my eyes, no one deserves them. I always envisioned my brother's girlfriends, or boyfriends for Nick's sake, to be just as kind as my brothers are.

But Matt's Girlfriend was an absolute bitch. And I haven't even been there for three days.

-

It was my third day in my new home. My brothers have been helping me unpack all my stuff for the past couple of days, and we were finally finished.

I was so excited to be done because Matt promised me that we would go play putt-putt at his new favorite spot in L.A.

I was getting ready to go, throwing on some cargo jeans and a cropped sweater. I walked downstairs and Chris walked over to me, giving me a spin, saying,

"Damn sis! you look bad!"

I playfully hit him on the shoulder and covered my red face as Nick and Matt began hyping me up with Chris.

I walked over to the couch and sat down next to Matt. I was about to ask him when we were about to go when the front door opened and hells began clicking up our steps.

Matt's girlfriend, Brittney, walks into the room.

She walked in like she owned the place, throwing her purse on the table and laying across Matt's lap, covering half the couch.

"Are you ready to go or what?" She asks Matt, sassily, while pulling out her phone, opening Snapchat, taking a selfie with her tongue out, and then posting it to her story.

"Uh, we're going somewhere?" Matt replies, looking as though he has no idea what she's talking about.

"You're taking me to dinner, I'm hungry," Brittney says. "You will take me, right Matty?" She says, giving him a pout and taking in a baby voice.

"Uh, I mean yeah sure. Lemme get me keys." Matt looks at me guiltily as he makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing his keys. He quietly mouths I'm sorry to me as he walks down the stairs, following Brittney.

I give him the most reassuring half-smile I could muster before he's gone, and I hear his car pull away. I feel the tears well up in my eyes and emotion stabbing at the back of my throat.

But I quickly try to wipe them away as Chris comes and sits next to me. But to my surprise, he pulls me into a hug and says,

"I know kiddo. It's ok if you're upset, I would be too."

I press my forehead into his chest as he cradles my head, willing the tears not to come, but a few slip out. I pull away from Chris's embrace.

"I'm fine! I'm good, really! As long as Matts is happy I'm happy." I say, trying to move off the subject before my disappointment settles in even more.

Chris nods, giving me a sad smile as he stands up.

"Hey why don't I order pizza and we can play Monopoly?" Nick says, trying to lighten the mood. I nod, smiling. Might as well make fun out of a crappy situation I thought to myself.

-

After about 2 hours of monopoly, three slices of pizza, and a bowl of ice cream later, I was getting tired. I yawned and stood up, telling my brothers, that I was heading to bed.

"Sweet dreams kid," Chris says, ruffling my hair as I hug him goodnight. I then walk over to Nick and give him a kiss on the cheek.

"'Night!" He says.

"Oh, when Matt comes in, could you tell him goodnight for me?" I ask my brothers before going upstairs. They glance sadly at each other, then say they would. So I walked upstairs to get some rest.

Chris's POV

About 30 minutes after SLS/N went to bed, Matt walked up the stairs, throwing his keys on the table, and then flopping down on the couch.

"Wow. Nice of you to join us, especially when the one person who wanted to hang out with you has already gone to bed! Brother of the year right there!" Nick says sarcastically, saying exactly what I was thinking.

Matt rolls his eyes, and mumbles,

"Relax, I'll make it up to her" Matt gets up and walks to his room and shuts the door. I look at Nick and we both sigh in defeat.

SLS/N's POV

I'm awake early the next day, around 8:00. None of my brothers are awake yet, so I decide to cook breakfast. I get out our mini waffle maker and the Bisquick. I also decide to make some bacon and sausage.

Not long after I start cooking, I hear the front door creek open, and foot straps come from the stairs. I turn to see Brittney.

What a great way to start my morning.

She struts into the kitchen and takes a waffle off the stack, then digs through the fridge for the syrup.

"Is this keto-friendly?" She asks me.

I shake my head saying,

"Um, it's Bisquick."

She rolls her eyes sits down and begins to eat. She eats nearly the whole thing before pushing her plate away and saying,

"What the fuck is this shit? you think people will actually eat this?" She laughs at the disappointed look on my face.

"I can make you something else if you like," I say, being way too nice to someone I want to slap across the face. Before she can answer, Matt walks into the kitchen, looking sleepy and disheveled.

"Oh good you're awake. Can we pwease go get Starbucks Matty? She says in a baby voice. Matt nods and she practically skips to the car, leaving her dirty dish on the table.

Matt walks over and gives me a hug. He must have noticed something was wrong because he said,

"You okay? Your eyes are lookin' watery."

I look down and say,

"Have you noticed that your girlfriend is a little mean" But I instantly regret saying that.

"SLS/N! How could you say that! Just because the attention isn't on you anymore doesn't mean you get to say that about her!" H says, raising his voice, which he never does.

He spins around and walks out the front door, leaving me there in the kitchen. The tears well up in my eyes as I began to clean up breakfast, throwing away all the waffles I already made.

-

I didn't want to be by myself this morning, especially after the breakfast flop. I walk downstairs to Chris's room.

The door is cracked and dim light is coming from inside. I knock lightly.

"Come in," I hear Chrls's morning voice say. I enter the room to see him lying in his bed watching his phone. I walk over and crawl into bed next to him, snuggling into his side. He notices something is wrong the minute I lay down.

"Alright, spill it, kid." He demands

I told him everything that happened this morning.

Matt's POV

I get into the driver's seat, flustered due to my argument with SLS/N. I hear Brittney sigh, and I look over at her.

"Why are you in a mood?" She asks, giving me a pout. I run my fingers through my hair, and say,

"My sister is just being a little difficult is all."

I hear her scoff and let out a low chuckle. I look over at her confused.

"Yeah, no shit. She's such a little brat. And she can't even make a waffle right." She keeps scrolling through her phone as if she doesn't even realize what she's saying to me, SLS/N's brother.

"What the fuck did you just say?" I asked, feeling stupid for not believing SLS/N.

"You heard me, I said she's a brat." She replies, popping the gum in her mouth.

This was a new feeling for me. I've never felt so upset or mad. I remember all the times I let SLS/N down because of some stupid girl. I'm such an idiot.

"Get out of my car," I say through gritted teeth.

"What- but- Matty, baby c'mon, you know I didn't mean that!" She struggles to correct herself, but it's too late. The damage has already been done.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Car." I say, one last time. She flings her car door open and runs to her car, speeding out of the driveway. I quickly run back inside, trying desperately to come up with a solution to make it up to SLS/N.

SLS/N's POV

Still snuggled into Chris's side, I heard the front door open again and footsteps walking closer.

Matt peeks his head inside Chris's room, where we are. He clears his throat and says,

"Hey, um Chris, do you mind if I talk to SLS/N for a second?"

Chris looks at me and I nod. He stands up and brushes past Matt while he walks out of the room, mumbling,

"Don't fuck this up."

Matt walks over and sits next to me.

"I...I'm sorry. I should have listened to you over Brittney. I was stupid to think that my little sister would ever do that and I was wrong." He starts tearing up a little at the end of his apology.

However, I was happy that I had my Matt back again. I quickly give him a hug, knocking him back onto the bed. We giggle and laugh as we wrestle.

"And if it's okay with you, I'd like to make it up to you. How does putt-putt sound kid?" H asks, a smile playing on his lips.

"Yay!" I shout, standing up and jumping up and down on the bed, only to be tackled again by Matt.

-

That night Matt and I went on a little brother-sister date. We went Putt-putting, and Matt won both rounds of course. Then we went to get ice cream before heading home.

We laughed and danced to music in the car, happy in each other's company again.

Guys! School got canceled again tomorrow! I'll try and post some extra for you this weekend and finish some requests!

[logorrhea5mip]

As you might know, the sky is due to get a new star any time now, in a few months at most.

What is happening? The recurrent nova T Coronae Borealis, by far the brightest one known, is a star* in the northern constellation Corona Borealis that, once every 80 years or so, increases in brightness from completely invisible by naked eye to among the ~100 brightest in the night sky. This increase is called a nova, from the Latin word for new, as it looks like a new star has appeared.

Where can i see it from? Basically all human inhabited latitudes, all except the far south. In the northern latitudes, however it is visible the entire night, while near and below the equator you will need to 'catch' it at the right time of night, which in August and September is just after sunset.

How will it look? Let's not get your hopes up too high. It will, at the brightest, reach a magnitude around 2 at most, so about as bright as the north star, relatively unremarkable and completely unnoticeable as unique to someone who doesn't know where to look. But still, it's the most visible sudden change to the relatively fixed pattern of the heavens any of us will live to see, so you should still go give it a look.

Where is it? Currently, the constellation is best visible about 1 or 2 hours after sunset. You will need to be relatively far away from light pollution, so at least a couple dozen stars are clearly visible. While learning the constellations, and finding the star by orienting via those is imho half the fun, you could use one of many sky map apps and websites to tell you the star's location. If it didn't happen yet, there should be nothing visible at that location. However, if there is, congrats! You just did an astronomy™ :3

It will appear in the circle next to the star labeled ε

Why is this happening? Most stars spend most of their lives in a stable, hydrogen fusing state. However, when hydrogen in their cores begins to run out, they switch to helium fusion, which makes them swell up to enormous sizes, turn red due to lower surface temperature, and are thus called red giants. After this helium runs out, the star will (in most cases) throw off the inflated outer layers, while its hot, dense core shrinks and keeps on glowing due to how hot it is, while not actually doing any fusion and not producing any new energy. Those are called white dwarfs, and because they don't fuse, aren't technically stars at all, therefore the asterisk in the first sentence of this post. The T-CrBo system is a red giant and white dwarf binary, where the red giant has grown so big, that the parts of it closest to its partner aren't gravitationally bound to it anymore. Therefore, the gas falls and accumulates on the white dwarf's surface (which otherwise has no hydrogen on its own), untill a critical point is reached where the pressure of the gas causes it to all fuse at once, resulting in a huge thermonuclear explosion bright enough to be seen from over 2500 light years. The explosion however, isn't big enough to blow the dwarf apart, and it starts accumulating new matter from its partner right away. Because of this, it with re-explodes every 8 decades, and it is due to go any day now.

@green-mountain-goose @brightgreendandelions

[thealtoduck]

Being a mutant and joining Xavier’s school…

X-Men x Male Reader

Warnings: Justin Timberlake shade…

Summary: You’re a mutant and you’re invited to attend Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters…

(A/n: I gave you Emma Frost’s powers because i’m lazy)

(A/n 2: Yet another unplanned fic… i’m so sorry)

(A/n 3: I was gonna write more but word limit…)

——

It all started in school, everything was normal.

You just heard the regular chatter of the students. Then suddenly you heard EVERYTHING, every thought of every single person in the school. You quickly went in to the men’s bathrooms, locking yourself in a stall.

Your head pulsated as if it was about to explode, you felt as if it were on fire. You didn’t understand what was happening. You curled up in a ball on the toilet trying to keep the voices out as tears streamed down your eyes. You have had similar headaches before but never like this.

After about half an hour the voices stopped, you were shaking and sweating, did you have some kind of fever. You got up from the toilet and left the stall. You went to a sink and cupped your hands and splashed some water on your face.

You readjusted your shirt that had gotten a bit messy. You looked in the mirror and noticed something strange, your left hand looked weird, it was glistening looking like some kind of glass. You quickly lifted your hand in front of your eyes… it looked normal.

You then made sure you looked decent before you left to go to the nurse’s office. You told her what had happened about your splitting headache and seeing weird stuff in the mirror. She took your temperature and looked you over, but everything seemed completely normal.

You were scared of the idea of having to go to class and getting another headache in front of everyone. Luckily for you, the school nurse was very nice and wanted to make sure you were okay, so she called your mom and asked if she could come pick you up.

You got in to your mom’s car and she looked at you worried. ”Hi sweetie, are you feeling okay?” she asked. ”Yeah at the moment at least” you said and explained. She was understanding and started driving the two of you home.

As she was driving you started hearing things again, your mom sat quiet, you looked around no people. Then they started growing louder and louder. ”Hey, let’s see what’s on the radio” your mom said pressing the radio button.

And like the flip of a switch, you felt a cutting pain in your head making you lean forwards and groan loudly. ”Oh, come on Y/n, Justin Timberlake isn’t THAT bad” you mom said. Slowly realisation crept up on her that it wasn’t about the pop star’s music playing.

She quickly pulled over the car trying to make sure you were okay. But she soon realised your pain wasn’t going away, so she immediately started driving towards the closest hospital. She also turned off Justin Timberlake, you might be in pain but you didn’t need to be tortured

Even at the hospital the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with you, but they recommended you take some headache medicine and to get some bedrest over the weekend. You tried but the headaches came on and off, keeping you from falling asleep.

While trying to rest the doorbell rang, you walked towards the door and opened it. You were met with a bald man in a wheel chair and a woman with long red hair, you didn’t recognise either. ”Can i help you?” you asked.

The bald man spoke up and greeted ”Hi, my name is Professor Charles Xavier and this is Doctor Jean Grey, mind if we come in for a chat?”.

Oh god… you had become a medical spectacle you thought to yourself.

You let the two in and served tea for the three of you. ”So, why do you want to speak with me?” you asked. ”Well Mr L/n, have you ever heard of mutants?” Professor Xavier asked.

”You mean those guys on the news with those freaky powers that everyone are afraid off?” you questioned. Professor Xavier nodded with a smile and said ”That’s one way to describe them”.

”You’ve been experiencing painful headaches recently, right?” Doctor Jean Grey asked. ”Y-Yeah” you said unsure, had your parents already called in medical experts to examine you…

”We have reason to believe you are a mutant, who has recently developed the power of telepathy” the professor explained. You sat in silence a moment, only being able to then utter ”I… What?”.

”It’s a gift that will let you read and see inside the minds of others” the professor continued to explain. You stood up and found yourself saying ”You should both leave, you’ve found the wrong person… I-I… I’m not a mutant you must be looking for someon- ahh!”.

You were cut off in the middle of your sentence by another sudden headache making you fall to your knees, holding your aching head. The Professor rolled closer to you and put a hand on your head and suddenly the pain eased.

”What did you?…” you asked confused looking at the professor. ”I used my freaky mutant powers to mute your powers slightly, to make them more manageable” he explained with a small smile. ”Look at Jean” he told you and pointed at the doctor.

”Now try to look inside her mind to see what she’s thinking” he instructed. You did as told and looked at the red haired woman, then without her opening her mouth you heard her say ”Hello Y/n” making you stumble backwards.

”How did you? How did i?” you questioned in complete shock. ”How about you sit down and we can answer all of your questions” Professor Xavier suggested.

So turns out you were a mutant.

It scared you but you decided to gather your courage and tell your parents about it… not a good idea. They got terrified of the idea of their son being a mutant and told you to go to your room.

So once you got to your room you made the impulsive descision to run away from home. You were worried what your parents would do… would they call the cops? Is being a mutant a crime?… Professor Xavier had given you his number. So you grabbed your phone and called the number.

He picked up. ”Hello, this is Charles Xavier” he greeted. ”Hey, it’s Y/n, i’m calling about your offer… you really have room for another student?” you questioned. ”Of course, we do” the professor answered kindly.

You packed a suitcase and climbed out of the window, silently sneaking away from the house. You took a bus leading to new york where’d you’d be picked up. A car was waiting when you got off the bus, Doctor Jean Grey was standing by it.

You got in the car and she drove the two of you towards the school. ”Are you nervous?” she asked, you wondered if you looked that obvious or if her own telepathy gave her a hint. You nodded.

”Don’t be you’ll fit right in. We might be a school but we’re also like a family, we take care of each other” she assured you. ”What about my powers? What if i accidentally hurt someone?” you asked. ”We’re gonna make sure you learn to control them, the Professor has dampened your powers and we’ll unlock them little by little, it shouldn’t be an issue” she explained comfortingly.

The car the pulled up beside a fancy looking mansion. You couldn’t help but be awed seeing it. It looked almost magical. You got out and got your suitcase, Jean led you to the enterance. It was just as impressive on the inside.

She showed you your room which you would be sharing with another student named Peter Rasputin, who according to Jean could turn his skin in to steel.

She gave you a tour of the rest of manor, introduced you to some of the other students and then left you to explore and get settled in. As you made your way around you were greeted and welcomed by the other teachers of the school.

The other students looked curiously at you as you passed, probably wondering who you are and what your powers are.

That night you also got to meet your roomate Peter who Jean had told you about, he was tall, handsome and very muscular. He was also very kind as he greeted you. As the two of you got ready for bed he asked ”Considering we’re sharing space now, do you mind if i’m sleeping shirtless?”.

”No, i don’t mind, do you mind if i do?” you returned the question. He gave you a quick flirty look up and down before saying ”No”.

[danikamariewrites]

Just Us

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: part 2 is here! Although I don’t really like calling it a part two because I don’t see it as a series, I don’t have a better name for it so we’re just going to call it a series. I just see this as a universe with ongoing stories/one-shit fics and headcanons lol. Thank you for all the love this is getting though! I’m so happy so many of you want to be tagged for these posts ❤️

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

Digging out another option from Mor’s closet I start to panic. Azriel will be here in two hours to pick me up and it feels like every part of me is sweating from nerves. I wipe my hands on my leggings so I can grip the velvet hanger better. I turn to face the chaos Mor and Feyre have created. 

Shoes from each of their closests and mine, eyeshadow pallets, and even more clothing options cover every inch of Mor’s bedroom. It’s all so…intimidating. I’ve been on dates before, but none of those guys were ever worth half the effort I’m putting in for Azriel. Which is probably why I’m freaking out more than normal. 

As I lay out the dress on Mor’s bed my ears finally pick up what Feyre is joyously rambling about. “And then Gavin just backed off. I have never him seen him humbled so fast Mor, oh my gods. It was hilarious.” A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. It was refreshing to see Gavin put in his place. Especially by someone like Azriel. 

I circle the bed eyeing my endless options for dresses. My attention lands on one of Feyre’s black velvet cocktail dresses. It has a corset type bodice with tank top straps and a pleated skirt. It’s perfect. 

Picking it up I break out into a wide grin. Feyre and Mor notice looking at me like proud parents. “What?” I ask with a slight giggle. “It’s just…you’re going on a real date. With a real man. I just feel so proud.” Mor squeaked out, wiping away fake tears. 

I shake my head letting out a shaky sigh. “I like this one, can I wear it, Fey?” “Of course babe. This is going to look amazing on you.” She starts gathering the other dresses as Mor begins to look for shoes to match. Sitting me on the bed Feyre grabs my face and purses her lips in thought. “How do you feel about a very light Smokey eye?” 

A knock on the front door - approximately two hours later - breaks my focus from applying mascara. “I’ll get it!” Mor yells from the living room. Just a few more strokes and I’ll be done. My hand shakes from anticipation. Maybe if I take longer he’ll get impatient and I won’t have to go. 

No, don’t think like that. I deserve a nice date. I shake my body and check myself over in the mirror one last time. I look hot thanks to my best friends' combined effort. “Ok,” I whisper. 

Heading out to the living room I can hear Mor and Feyre talking with him. Gods, I hope they’re avoiding embarrassing topics. When I round the corner my steps stutter. It’s not Azriel in the living room. It’s one of the males he brought into the gallery. The larger one of the two who winked at me. “There she is!” Mor said in a sing-song voice. 

I walk forward and the male reaches his hand out for me to shake. “Hi y/n, I’m Cassian.” I take his hand, his calluses are rough against my palm as I shake his hand. “Hi, I remember you from the gallery. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s Azriel?” I hate how small my voice sounds as I ask but I don’t want Cassian to feel like I’m not trusting him or his boss. Cassian smiles at me. “He’s already at the restaurant, he just sent me to pick you up.” I nod and say goodbye to Mor and Feyre before they push me out the door. 

Cassian opens the car door for me, taking my hand to help me up into the high SUV. I thank him before he shuts the door. The ride over to the restaurant was fast and quiet. I think Cassian could tell I’m nervous. When we pull up I notice the small parking lot was oddly empty. 

I audibly swallow, staring out the window at the front door. Cassian opens the door smiling at me with a boyish grin. “Cassian, can I ask you something?” “Sure thing.” Concern flashes across his face. The scar above his brow crinkling in. “I just…is he…” I can’t find the right words to ask my question correctly. Cassian seemed to pull himself up straighter. “I know you know his job but he’s not cruel. Azriel can be guarded at first but I think you’ll get through to him easily. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” He smiles at me again, squeezing my hand in encouragement. I sigh, tilting my head to the side. “You’ve only seen me twice.” “That’s all I need. I know my brother.” 

I nod and take Cassian’s hand again to step out of the car and he ushers me into the restaurant. As I look around I notice the dining room is empty. Most of the tables look like they have been cleared out so a special table could be set up in the middle of the room. Azriel is speaking to the chef and a male I assume is the owner. 

Cassian clears his throat behind me to get Azriel’s attention. When he turns it feels like all the air has been sucked from my lungs. My heart flutters at the bright smile he gives me. His hazel eyes light up as they look me up and down. I finally start breathing again when he stops in front of me. The scent of his cologne is intoxicating. The warm vanilla tones mixed with a light spice fills my nostrils. It’s comforting and makes me want to curl up next to him to breathe it in more. 

Azriel takes my hands in his large scarred ones, bringing them up to his lips to press light kisses across my knuckles. I didn't notice the scars marring them before. They were beautiful. Like a torrent, restless ocean. “You look absolutely stunning this evening.” A blush heats my cheeks, a small smile appearing on my lips from his compliment. “Thank you. You look handsome as well.” 

He drops my hands holding his arm out for me to take like he did in the gallery two days ago. Azriel continues being the gentleman that he is and pulls my seat out for me, pushing me back in, and listens to my answers when he asks me about myself. When it was my turn I asked about his childhood, which seemed to be quite normal given the amount of money his family has. I also couldn’t help but ask why the restaurant was empty.

Azriel sheepishly smiled, looking at his entree for a moment before admitting he bought the place out for the night. “I prefer first dates to be more…intimate, if you will.” I let out a hum, “So you do this for all the girls.” I joke. Azriel looked panicked for a moment. “No,” he got out quickly, “This is, you’re the first one I’ve ever done this for actually.” His voice getting quieter at the end.

My heart leaps at the confession. No one has ever put that much thought into a date with me before and I told him how much I appreciate this.  

“So, how did you get into art?” He asks over dessert. A delicoius crème brûlée with a perfect golden brown sugar coating. I break it with my spoon as I think about how to phrase my answer. "I've always loved art no matter what form it comes in. Paintings, sculpture, digital, all that stuff. I like that people appreciate something pretty or one of a kind, so if I can help them get their hands on it, it makes me happy."

I look at him, shoveling the sweet creamy treat in my mouth. Azriel smiles at me adoringly. Those hazel eyes twinkling with what I'd like to think is love. "That's amazing. Besides the two I got, how many paintings have you sold?" I let out a short, cold laugh thinking about how pissed Gavin was that I made a sale. "You were my first customer. and probably my last. As I know you heard my boss say I'm just an intern. I really should've called him but it was the end of the day so what was the harm."

Azriel shook his head. A dissaproving look takes over his beautiful face as he remembers the scene he walked in on yesterday. "I was ready to punch him." Azriel admits. "He had no right to talk to you like that. But I must say, you were a natural my dear. I probably wouldn't have bought the paintings wihtout your knowledge on them."

"Thank you." I say surprised that soemone didn't find my knowledge about art annoying.

When we finished the chef came out to say goodbye along with the owner. Azriel offered me his arm again but I took a chance twinning my fingers through his. We glance down at our joined hands. I smile lightly at the comfort I feel when I hold it. Azriel looks shocked that I would even go near his hands. "Is this ok?" I ask softly. He seems at a loss for words just nodding and staring at me like a boy realizing he has a crush for the first time.

The whole car ride back to my apartment Azriel doesn't let go of my hand. I rest them on my lap and gently rub my thumb back and forth in a comforting motion. When Cassian comes to stop in front of my apartment my heart sinks. I don't want Azriel to go. I'm not ready for tonight to be over.

"I got it Cass." Azriel says before Cassian can unbuckle. He leads me up the short steps, stopping on the landing. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Feyre and Mor crouched down on the couch. Their eyes just peeking over the window sill. Ignoring them I turn my attention back to Azriel who hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we left the restaurant.

He slips his other hand in mine pulling me slightly closer to him. “I had a wonderful time with you. And I really want to see you again.” Without hesitation I say yes, “I’d love to.” Azriel’s smile seemed to get wider. I must say, he’s not at all what I thought he’d be like. Not knowing how to say goodbye we stumble over our words for a moment until Azriel’s expression became serious. His face mere inches from mine now. “Can I kiss you, y/n.” Something about my name on his lips just seemed so right. “Yes,” I whisper.

Azriel’s lips are like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The kiss is soft yet passionate and full of a desire I don’t think either of us would be able to sate. Pulling away for air I feel Azriel’s hands slip down my neck and pull away from my body. I hadn’t realized he was holding me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I nod, speechless. The air once again sucked from my lungs.

I slowly open the front door giving him a small wave before shutting it. Leaning against the wood I listen for his graceful retreating footsteps, the car door, and the engine as Cassian takes off down the street.

My heart won’t stop pounding. I rest a hand over my chest, a stupid smile on my lips as I’m off in my own fantasy world.

tags (accounts I couldn’t tag in bold): @amara-moonlight @harrystylesfan2686 @kalulakunundrum @thinkingofmatthewfairchild @just-a-social-casualty-1 @insecuritieeseatmealive @teenageeggscissorslawyer @theladystardust @thehighladywrites @callmeblaire @luell1q @meshellexplosionmurder @verena9003 @starsinyoureyes @mich0731 @yourfutur3lov3r @samanthalynn13 @enchantedatheart

[perpetuallyconfused10]

Drive My Car (1/2)

GIF by rqgnarok Part 2

WARNINGS: None. Just two idiots in love. And maybe Hotch is a little too soft.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Fuck.”

The voice is low enough that you think you’ve imagined him at first, but there he is, standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to his office with one hand pressed to his forehead and staring at the phone in his other like it’s burned him.

“Hotch? Are you alright?”

He turns to look at you, appearing about as startled as you imagine he ever can. “I’m fine,” he says. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

In his defense, you didn’t expect to be here this late either. The others had left the bullpen over an hour ago, having finished their paperwork much before you.

You hold up the culprit for your staying behind, a Use of Force report that had ended up taking a lot longer than planned. “Just finishing up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The hand on his forehead moves to his hip, and he studies you for a few seconds. Then he sighs. “My car’s in the shop. Jessica was going to bring me home, but Jack’s gotten sick and she doesn’t want to move him from his bed. I’m going to call a cab.”

That explains why he’s leaving so early. You’ve never heard of him leaving before eight or nine.

“Poor kid. That’s never fun,” you say with a wince. “But you’d be lucky, Hotch. It’s seven on a Friday night. Everyone and their mother is calling a cab.”

“It’s quicker than the subway.”

His voice is flat, worried. You make the decision in a second. “Not quick enough. Let me drive you.”

Hotch’s brow furrows as he considers your offer, mentally calculating the distance from your apartment to his. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me. I’m miles out of your way.”

He’s right. He is miles away, but that doesn’t deter you. As wonderful as Jessica is, from what you’ve heard, you know Jack idolizes Hotch. He’ll want to be with him now.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you say with a smile, knowing you’re about to play your ace. “I’m doing it for Jack, who is sick and should see his father.”

There’s no room to argue with you. Hotch picks up his briefcase and thanks you. With long strides, he leads the way out of the bullpen and towards the garage.

Ten minutes later, find yourself rushing to stack empty to-go-cups and loose papers, shoving them away as Hotch climbs into your car. “It’s no problem, really. Sorry about the mess.”

Hotch shakes his head. His lips are a little less downturned than usual, which in your mind almost constitutes a smile. “Consider it noted,” he says, “We’ll talk during your next performance review.”

Fighting a smile, you can’t help it. You hit his arm. “I take it back. I’m not sorry.”

“It really isn’t a mess,” he says. “And you really shouldn’t be sorry. You should see my car. You can’t move for Jack’s toys.”

You hum, hands gripping the wheel as your reverse out of the spot, “Be careful what you admit around me. You might be my boss, but I can always snitch on you to yours.”

An amused huff is the closest you get to making him laugh, but you take it. He shakes his head. “I’ve had too many uncomfortable conversations with Strauss to bother counting. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“Not if I have a hand in it.”

Neither of you says anything for a long while after that, and neither mind. What the protocol is for driving your boss home outside of work, you aren’t sure. If there is something in the FBI manual about it, you’re quite sure Hotch knows it – but asking him feels a little on-the-nose, and so you keep quiet and put the radio on.

You’re also sure that there isn’t anything in the FBI manual about what music is appropriate to listen to with your boss in your passenger seat. If there were, you’re certain the songs on at the moment – half of which you vaguely remember Morgan and Garcia dancing to on one of the team’s nights at the bar, and the other of which might be their next choices – don’t make the cut.

Feeling your face heat up, you clear your throat. “I think I have a couple Beatles albums in the glove box if you wanna look for one,” It isn’t so much a suggestion as it is a request — maybe even an order – and you know he senses that. With a nod, he reaches over to open it.

“You’ve got eclectic taste,” Hotch says after a moment, raising an eyebrow at you as he pulls out one of the CDs buried somewhere in the pile. “I didn’t take you for a Mozart fan.”

The corner of his mouth pulls itself into a smirk. It’s the kind reserved for non-working occasions, or, alternatively, occasions that don’t require the wearing of a suit jacket. Like now. Not that you’ve noticed the broad lines of his shoulders in his dress shirt, or the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks, more easily seen with the top two buttons undone. And if you have, that’s nobody’s business.

You shrug. “I’m not one, really. Reid likes it.”

For a long second, he looks at you. “You keep a CD in your car for Reid?”

“He doesn’t like the radio. It’s distracting. I don’t particularly like it, either.”

Hotch doesn’t let up, “That’s…very thoughtful of you.”

Keeping your eyes on the road is more of a task than you’d like.

“They’re only a couple dollars. I just buy them when I see them.”

He takes another look in the glove box, grabbing a beaten-down copy of The White Album and pushing it into the player. But before the opening to ‘Back in the USSR’ is even over, he’s pressed pause and shifted in his seat to look at you head-on. Silence stretches between the two of you again. The dull hum of the engine and the rain battering the windows sound, of a sudden, much louder.

“What? You’re making me nervous.”

He is. If becoming skilled in the art of dangerous driving weren’t a side-effect of working with the BAU, you might’ve crashed the car by now.

You chance a look over at him. His expression is set in a frown. Over your short tenure with the team, you’ve fallen witness to enough of what Morgan deems his ‘Hotchner frowns’ (trademark implied) to know that this one is different. There’s something softer about it, more considerate than displeased.

“Those other albums…Sinatra, Radiohead, Stevie Wonder…you’ve barely touched them. Not compared to the others.”

Damn profiler. The stubborn part of you — which was a larger part than you’d like to admit — wanted to ignore him. Even so, you know it’d never work. Hotch is just as stubborn as you are, and worse than that, he is far more patient.

“They’re not my favorites, no, but—” you relent.

Gently, Hotch cuts you off. “No, they’re not. They’re Rossi’s, Prentiss', and Morgan’s. I’m sure you’ve got records in there for JJ and Garcia. And–”

You look down again at your hands where they rest on the wheel. The skin of your knuckles pulls as you tighten your hands around it. In a sigh, you admit it. “—And for you too, yeah.”

He tilts his head. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “Why?”

Retreating into silence again, you turn the corner onto his street. But even off the clock, Hotch’s presence is commanding, his stare on you unassuming and exposing all at once.

You laugh. “Remind me never to end up in an interrogation with you again. You’re terrifying.”

“You haven’t learned enough from them if you’re still deflecting,” he says, ignoring your jibe. Instead he folds his hands in his lap.

You could double down, tell him jokingly to fuck off and then claim that swearing at him is entirely acceptable in non-working circumstances. What it is stopping you from giving him the answer he wants, you’re not sure. This isn’t the office. It’s not neutral ground. This is your car, your territory. Forced out of the context of work, Hotch is no longer just an abstract concept, your hardass of a boss — he’s a real person. Your friend. And something about that pulls at you.

“I had a little trouble adjusting, at first,” you say, stretching the words out until they become unfamiliar things. “More than I’d expected. I knew when I took the job what it’d be like. On paper, at least. But the first few cases…it was another thing to be doing it, you know?”

It’s the truth. The early days, right after you joined the team, were rough. They’d been a constant guessing game of when to speak up and when to keep quiet, when to shove down all of the stress and the fear and the self-loathing and when, if ever, to let yourself feel it.

Hotch stays quiet this time, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Was it too honest to admit that? His presence has gone to your head, like wine on a summer evening.

“I never let it affect my work–” you say in a rush, self-preservation instincts in full swing. You stop halfway, let the words wither in your throat.

One of Hotch’s hands twitches as if to reach for you, but retreats at the last seconds, remaining limp in his lap. He hums, his voice a low murmur. “I know that.”

You’ve come this far. Might as well finish this. “We’d come home from a case, and sometimes I’d drive Reid back so he didn’t have to get the subway. We’d drive back to our apartments with the radio on. But the news…”

Hotch sighs, “...Another robbery, another murder. Another thing out of our reach.”

There’s no judgment in his eyes, none of the sharp analysis profiling demands. It hits you again that you aren’t talking with the man that conducts your performance reviews, but the man who rolls his eyes at Reid and Morgan’s bickering, the father who’d drop anything to make his son happy.

A smile feels a little out of your reach as you remember those early months, so you settle for a nod. “I picked up a CD or two after the first couple weeks. Then I found out Reid liked classical music, so I looked for some. And it made sense, if I was giving Morgan or Prentiss or Garcia a ride too. I guess it got a little out of control.”

Hotch shakes his head. “That’s not out of control. It’s kind,” he starts, then stops for a second, his features rearranging themselves into a frown once more. “You know you don't have to do nice things for people to get them to like you, don’t you?”

Eyes widening, you almost think you’ve heard him wrong. “What?”

He tilts his head, his gaze on you soft as you put the car into park in front of his apartment complex. “Maybe you don’t do it anymore, but towards the beginning…I got the feeling you thought you’d have to move mountains to get the team to like you. And you didn’t.”

He’s right. You really had felt alone, for the first few months. You’d done everything you could to make yourself tolerable: memorized Garcia’s miles-long Starbucks order, lied about where you lived to Reid so he didn’t feel guilty about taking a lift from you, nodded along when Morgan told you about his housing projects even though you hadn’t a clue about property development. You’d done it all. And it had worked.

Maybe you hadn’t needed to do it. But over time, obligation had morphed into affection, and you liked to. Hence the music.

“Hotch…”

You’re glad he speaks before you can get any further, because you really have no idea what to say. “I mean it,” he says quietly. “Anyone with sense would do that all on their own.”

“Thank you,” you say, swallowing. “I hope Jack feels better soon.”

“I’ll tell him you said hi. He’ll appreciate it.” he says, checking his watch. “I’d better go check on him. Thank you for driving me back. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod. “Tomorrow.”

He climbs out of the car, head bowed against the rain, and you wait for him to get inside before you pull away. You’re not mad about the Beatles. The White Album wouldn’t be your pick of their records. But the drive is long, long enough to let yourself think, and you leave it playing until you’re home.

[schemmentis]

Revelation - Pt. 2

Pt. 1

Warnings: Depiction/Talking of Anxiety & Depression

Word Count: 1.7k

By the next night, Melissa has had an entire existential crisis. She practically bullied poor Jacob from the living room without meaning to. Seeing him, though, had only reminded her of the previous night's realization and made her decidedly not want to spend time with him. Lest he find something else to say to tip her world upside down all over again.

She's already dreading Monday and being in the same room as you. Except…that's really not true. She's always happy to see you. She just isn't sure what to make of this shift of her understanding of her own feelings. She hardly wants to risk losing you in her life. You have a wonderful relationship. You're her closest friend. She doesn't see Barbara outside of work half as much as she does you.

If she sees you Monday and can't pretend things are as usual, you'll know. You've always been able to read her better than most. Even in the early days of getting to know each other. Now that she's spent the last day or so thinking over practically every moment spent with you since you met she realizes that's part of how you got so close. You were always ready to see beneath the surface of her reactions and responses.

You never let her standoff nature deter you or intimidate you before she accepted you would be around Abbott for a long time as opposed to the others that went in and out. You didn't like all the same things but the things you did you enthusiastically shared with her. The things you didn't, you still appreciated that she liked and would entertain or participate in those things with her. Just because she liked them.

Melissa slumps at the head of her bed with a groan. “Schemmenti, you are so fucked.” She mumbles into her pillow. Not the first time since yesterday she's thought it but it is the first time she's said it out loud.

She's worried about seeing you again, nervous. Still, she knows at the end of every day she'd choose to spend time with you anyway. So, her only choice is to just…see what happens. Melissa Schemmenti hates just seeing what happens. She hates surprises.

Her groan sounds again when her phone rings from somewhere next to her. It's already too late on a Saturday night to be getting called. Double too late when she's been working herself up with thoughts of feelings all day.

She lifts her head enough for one glaring eye to see her screen. The sight of a photo of the two of you you'd insisted on taking, and setting as your contact photo in her phone, lighting up her screen makes her sit up. It's definitely too late for you to call her.

Quickly, she's swiping the accept call button with her thumb. “Hon?”

She hears the sniffle after your quiet ‘hey’ in greeting. She doesn't bother asking if you're alright. She already knows the answer. “Do you need me to come over?”

“It's late…”

“That's not what I asked. Yes or no, Hon?”

She's about to pull the phone away from her ear to make sure she didn't accidentally hang up when you finally answer. “Yes, please.”

“I'll be there in ten, I'll use your spare to get in. Just hang tight for me.” She answers as she pushes away from her bed. She lets you be the one to end the call as she pulls on a hoodie and grabs her car keys. She doesn't bother telling Jacob she's leaving.

With the hour, she makes it to your apartment in eight. She plucks the spare key from its potted plant hiding place and lets herself in. She locks the door behind her, setting the key and her purse to the side table nearby.

She frowns slightly as she glances at the living room and kitchen as she pass through the short hallway to your bedroom.

What feels like forever ago, she had told you about Joe. The aftermath of her marriage and how it made her feel. You'd both been drinking that night but neither of you were drunk. She'd been just tipsy enough to feel comfortable sharing, at least with you. In return, you'd shared your own struggles with depression and anxiety.

Your apartment is not dirty. It's perhaps the normal level of weekend disarray. There are only a few dishes at the side of the kitchen sink. That she would guess is from breakfast. The blankets on your couch aren't folded.

It isn't really messy but Melissa knows these small things aren't like you. You tend to be on top of even these little things since you learned the mess of things can increase your anxiety about your depression worsening. It's small, but she notices.

“Hey,” she greets softly when she steps into your bedroom. She catches your answer, muffled by your blanket held to the lower half of your face.

Melissa sits on the edge of your bed, her legs swinging up to sit properly next to you. As if she has a hundred times before. “C’mon,” She coaxes softly, her hands waving you to her.

After a moment, you shuffle closer to her. Instantly, her arms are around you, holding you to her. You adjust to share your blanket with her.

She scoffs when you attempt to quietly apologize. “Don't give me no apology, Sweetheart. I don't need one. You called, I answered, huh? That's all there is to it. You'd have done the same for me.”

She nods at your soft agreement. You would have. Without question.

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks, in a whisper that sounds more like she's shared a secret.

“I don't know what happened.” You sigh, glad for the way she squeezes her arms around you in reassurance. It lets you feel like you can keep speaking. “Game night at yours was fun and I told myself when I left I'd get home and finish grading those quizzes from Thursday so I wouldn't have to worry about them all weekend. The next thing I knew I'd just been sitting around and scrolling on my phone until late. I figured I'd get up and do them this morning but…”

“Hard day to get outta bed?”

“Something like that. I just kept thinking of everything else I needed to do too and then what if come Monday I still can't even get myself to get up and then the kids will—”

“Shh,” Melissa cuts you off gently. A hand rubbing against your arm to soothe at the same time. “It's okay. You aren't gonna leave the kids like that. I know you. And it's okay to take a day or two off once in a while anyhow. But instead of worryin’ ‘bout Monday, let's worry about right now, alright? Right now, you're gonna stay right here with me and relax. Take a deep breath with me, Hon?”

You do. Following the pattern of Melissa's own breathing that is slow and purposeful. You let yourself slowly start relaxing at her side.

“Good.” She praises quietly when you keep your breath in time with hers. Even after the one requested deep breath. “We’re gonna stay here, and if ya need to talk it out more then I'm here to talk it out with or just listen. Or I can talk ya little ear off until you fall asleep. We’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.”

“I have no idea how your kids stay awake during story time.” You tease her gently, smiling into her shoulder.

“Why’d you think I only read to ‘em when they're real good?” She answers easily. You can hear the smile in her own voice.

“Thank you. For being here.”

Again, Melissa scoffs. “I don't need thanks any more than apologies, sweetheart. I've got you.”

You resolve, as you fight your eyes closing to sleep, that you'll be there whenever Melissa calls you too. No matter the hour. It's only whisper to tell you to not be ridiculous and sleep that has you actually giving in to rest.

When you wake the next morning, Melissa isn't next to you. The distant sound of rustling from your living room tells you she didn't go far though. You bring yourself to rise from your bed, vaguely noticing your full laundry hamper is gone from the corner of the room.

You dont think too hard on it though. You're not fully awake and it wouldn't surprise you if you moved it and forgot. Yet as you continue out to the living room, you do begin to question.

The dishes are washed and on the drying rack on your counter. The fruit bowl you keep for the mornings you don't plan well enough for breakfast so you have something quick is in its usual spot. Though the counter has been cleaned around it and a few of the pieces of fruit you noticed turning are gone.

You turn to see Melissa curled up on your couch. Nestled comfortably in the corner of one of the arm rests. The blankets are folded and laid across the back of the couch. The quizzes you meant to grade this weekend are in a pile next to her.

“Mornin’ Hon.” She greets without looking away from the paper she's marking. She finishes grading that particular students quiz, setting it to your coffee table. The stack on the table, the stack you realize is the ones she's graded, is much larger than the few left next to her on the couch.

“Mel, you didn't have to do all this.”

The hand holding one of your red pens waves your statement away. “It was nothin’. I woke up a little early and couldn't get back to sleep. I figured I could take a little off your mind. So I did.”

You pluck one of your other red pens from the coffee table, claiming the last few quizzes as you sit next to her. “Alright but I'm helping you finish, at least. Then we're going to breakfast.”

“You're gonna bribe me with pancakes to walk around the farmers market at this ungodly hour.” Melissa says. It isn't a question. She already knows it's exactly what's going to happen.

“Yes.” You admit with no sign of regret before you set about finishing the last few quizzes.