#but sometimes i do look at my inbox and feel like i have fallen through an invisible floor into Email Hell

[runawaymarbles]

i’m reading Going Postal for the first time and I think terry pratchett really captured the feeling of having emails

[hanilessa]

» :、♡  YOUR ATTENTION

` Summary: You pay a lot of attention to your newborn child, and your husband has only to watch it jealousy. He lacks your attention.

` Includes: Diluc, Kaeya, Kamisato Ayato, Thoma x fem!reader

` Genre: fluff, romance, hints of jealousy

` Author’s notes: likes, replies and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 my inbox is open for your requests! feel free to text me if you want to request headcanons or drabble. :3

part one! part two!

DILUC

Everyone knows that Diluc is quiet, assembled and calm. Always and in all situations. He rarely shows his real emotions to strangers. Because he doesn't trust them.

You've always been amazed at how differently he can behave with different people. And how "other" he is next to you.

Yes, he's calm and assembled too, expresses confidence and aristocracy, but when you're next to him, he becomes gentle and affectionate, ready to bathe you in love and care.

Therefore, when you have a son, it's difficult for him to ask you to pay attention to him too, given his calm nature. He feels very awkward, realizing that taking care of a child requires a lot of responsibility.

And he will be silent, watching in silence how gently and reverently you hold your son in your arms, singing a beautiful lullaby to him.

The sound of your voice makes Diluc feel very sleepy, and he also wants to get a little of your caress, falling asleep on your lap.

You will be surprised how clingy he becomes when you put your son to bed and Diluc immediately pulls you into his arms.

"Did you miss me?" Your voice and laughter flow like a pleasant melody in his ears, and the man relaxes, getting all your attention to himself.

"Yes. Can we spend today together?" Diluc's words sound pleading, as if he hasn't seen or felt you next to him for ages. And it was unbearable.

Taking advantage of the fact that his son has finally fallen asleep, Diluc leads you to living room, where you both can relax and enjoy each other's company.

As soon as you're in his arms, your son's loud crying startles you, and you look at your husband excitedly, preparing to rush to the nursery to comfort your child.

But Diluc only shakes his head, and a sly smile appears on his lips — not characteristic of him. Your knees are shaking.

"Don't worry, my love, the maids will take care of him. And you have to take care of me."

You think that sometimes he looks like Kaeya with his cunning tricks. But you nod, calming down, when the baby stops crying.

Now, please give him your affection and love, which he missed so much.

KAEYA

Kaeya is the exact opposite of his stepbrother. He is cocky, cunning, and very charming.

He loves to tease you and doesn't miss any opportunity to do so. Regardless of place, time and circumstance. He has nothing to be ashamed of, because in this way he shows his affection for you.

When your daughter is born, Kaeya's heart becomes soft and light, he no longer wants to tease or joke. He wants to show care for his child through gentleness.

But, when all your attention goes only to your daughter, the man feels a slight insecurity. Have you lost interest in him because he stopped teasing you?

All your attention is directed to your daughter, and Kaeya would be a liar if he said that he didn't understand why this was happening.

Your child is an angel in the flesh, so you're constantly next to her.

You're completely enchanted with your baby, which is why you haven't paid attention to your husband for a long time. And Kaeya doesn't intend to take it anymore.

He suddenly takes his daughter from your arms, and you let out a frightened squeak. He came up with a brilliant plan to get your attention and tease you in the process.

"Can I hold my daughter in my arms too?" You recognize your lover's signature smirk and pout your lips when he smiles slyly, realizing that your attention now belongs entirely to him.

He will laugh, circling with his daughter in his arms, while you, with an annoyed and worried face, will run after him.

You know that Kaeya is careful and won't let anything happen to your daughter while he's fooling around like that.

Your baby is in his reliable and strong embrace, so relax a little and rest with him.

"You have such a funny face, Y/n!"

And right now, it's more than enough for Kaeya to see your cute, funny face when he's around you and your daughter.

You're so funny and sweet when he teases you, which is why he's so happy to feel that excitement again and see the look of your embarrassed face, so keep keeping your attention on him.

KAMISATO AYATO

As the head of Kamisato Clan, Ayato is constantly busy with various important matters. He doesn't have much time to give you his attention. And because of this, he blames himself very much in this.

You don't blame him, realizing that he has a big responsibility, and humbly wait until he's free in the evening after work.

And while you're waiting for your husband, you spend most of your time around your newborn daughter. You used to have a lot of free time, but now you're constantly busy taking care of your child

So when Ayato realizes that he's tired and needs to be near you and rest, he gets a little disappointed when he sees that you're busy taking care of your daughter.

Ayato is a gentleman and will never insist that you give your attention to him immediately. He will wait.

Sure, he understands that the wait is always long and painful, but when you receive your prize after a long wait, it's always very sweet and exciting, isn't it?

If he really wants your unquestioning attention here and now, he will ask Ayaka to look after your baby.

He knew that you couldn't refuse his sister such a request, so your husband always took advantage of this weakness of yours.

When your child is in Ayaka's arms, you immediately find yourself in Ayato's arms, and the man winks at his sister in satisfaction, making you frown slightly.

Don't make that face! You know very well that he needs your attention, and now he takes what belongs to him.

You and he are alone in his office, and Ayato can let out a sigh of relief as you stop resisting his embrace and relax too.

"Are you doing this to avoid your job?" You ask slyly, teasing your husband.

He just chuckles and takes your face in his hands.

"No, my dear, I'm doing this to get your attention." He finishes talking and your lips meet his in a kiss.

Be with him now, hug him, kiss him, and he will also be with you, he will hug you and kiss you. He will give you his attention too.

THOMA

It's safe to say that Thoma is very economic and hardworking. The Kamisato estate is led by him, he confidently does his work.

This work brings him pleasure, communication with Ayaka and Ayato is very valuable to him. But sometimes he can get tired too, want your affection and care.

You're also a hardworking person, constantly busy with something, so you both rarely get to spend time together. And when your son was born, you had even less time.

Your husband was constantly at his work, and you were always busy taking care of the child, so you hardly noticed that Thoma really lacked your attention.

But speaking of Thoma, when he came home, he wanted your affection and attention, but you just smiled at him, holding your son in your arms, while he falls asleep.

The man lowers his eyebrows sadly, trying to make the cutest look he could. He was so sweet in that moment and you really couldn't resist it.

You asked Thoma to wait a little while you put your son in the cradle, making the man's eyes light up with sincere happiness.

He's very clingy when the two of you spend time together. Thoma loves to lay his head on your lap and enjoy the way you gently touch his hair with your hands.

"Let's take a break today from our duties and spend this beautiful day together." He says, and you understand that he really missed you and your attention.

You nod tiredly but happily and lead the man into the living room, where you both sit on the couch.

"Okay. Then tell me about how Ayato-sama and Ayaka-sama are doing. I want to visit them when I have free time."

"They will be very glad to see you, honey." Thoma nods and wraps his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder.

For now, the two of you can relax, enjoying each other's company, and later visit Ayaka and Ayato with your child.

[unrequitedloveletter]

Hello Can you do a Poly one with Nikolai & Zoya fic it can be fluff with prompt 6 ? Where the reader has a crush on them

Recipe Box- poly! zoyalai x gn! reader

okay, hi! First ever poly fic of any kind. I've debated writing poly fics before but I've never actually done it so this was next level nervewracking for me and I hope it's decent.

I'm sorry it took me so long to see the requests you've sent in, things get buried in my inbox really quick and this request was no exception for a bit, but dear nonnie, I hope you like this in spite of how long it took me to get this out!

The prompt you requested was fluff prompt six: “Character A wanted me to give this to you,” Character B said.

Fic type- fluff with so much yearning

Warnings- none

You found yourself laughing at Tamar and Tolyas bickering as the three of you moved through the hallways of the Grand Palace, a discussion picking up and dropping in brief moments as the end of the day drew nearer. 

The time after the war was tough, the adjustments necessary difficult ones to make and the grief for those you’d lost immense and painful. Nikolai plunged into his kingly duties after he was crowned, Zoya took up the creation and the maintenance of her garden, you took to baking and the twins to sparing to sharpen their already sharp skills. 

Tolya and Tamar became members of Nikolais guard, working for him as they’d once worked for Alina and her sun cult. You almost took up a position alongside them, one offered to you by Nikolai after the war, but you refused. Despite it, finding the twins was always easy, striking a conversation with them easier even still.

You’d taken up working in the kitchens, making the menus for the week and putting effort into baking during your off time so that Genya and Zoya could always have the sweet pastries they liked at the drop of a hat and, selfishly, because baking had always been therapeutic for you.

Baking brought you plenty more joy than being on the sea did, but in the days of the war, being on a ship crew meant easy money, and easy money was good enough for you back then, while you worked on the Volkvolny with Nikolai as the captain.

You met Zoya in those times, too, so you wouldn’t’ve counted the war as an entirely dreadful time. You’d fallen for Nikolai when you worked on the ship alongside him, fallen for Zoya as you fought at her side against the Darkling. You had crushes on them for two years, and at that rate, it never seemed like the feelings you held would quite escape you. 

So, as you approached the war room with Tamar and Tolya, you were relaxed. It'd been your day off but you'd baked throughout it even still, and you'd dropped a basket of sweet pastries at Genya and Davids door in the hour before you found yourself where you were, with Tamar and Tolya at your sides as you walked them to the war room before you would either head to your room or to the palace library, where you grab a book and spend the next few nights reading.

Nikolai caught sight of you and grinned as you entered the room.

Tamar elbowed you lightly, shooting you a grin as your gaze met one of the people you’d been in love with for what sometimes felt like a thousand days. 

“Every time,” she whispered. “Him and Zoya. Every bloody time, and still—fools. The lot of you.” 

“Hey,” Nikolai greeted Tolya as you made a point of ignoring Tamars words simply for the fact that you didn’t believe them. “Alls well on the grounds?” 

“No threats waiting to jump out and kill you,” Tamar said pointedly. “Grounds sweep was successful.” 

Nikolai looked at you again, and seemed to remember something. You watched him pause for a moment before turning, picking up a small box and walking it over to you.

“Zoya wanted me to give this to you,” Nikolai said. “You bake in the kitchens a lot. Said it was recipe boxes with stuff you’d talked about.” 

You grinned as you took the box, grin widening as you met his gaze. “Thank you,” you said, turning on your heel. “For delivering it, I suppose. I need to find her, give her my thanks.” 

Nikolai nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Tamar, Tolya and I have much to discuss. I don’t know if I’ll see you again tonight, so goodnight, Y/N.” 

You grinned. “Goodnight, Nikolai,” 

And with that, you left, heart thrumming as you walked down the halls of the Grand Palace, a huge part of you hoping to see Zoya before you retired to your room for the night. 

You ended up not seeing her, but you made a mental note to thank her for the very sweet gift when you would see her the following day, at the end of your shift in the kitchens and likely as she sat by a samovar of tea, either chatting with Genya and David or finding something to bicker about with Tolya or Nikolai. 

It was something to which you looked forward immensely. 

[charlywrites]

Requested by anon

Request; could you write something with max v and the reader with them struggling with long distance due to him traveling and her being a students? lots of angst with fluff ending with maybe him surprising her or other way around?? thanks bestie ur writing is elite

Warnings; long distance relationship, angst, overworking, reader forgetting to eat.

I hate to do that but since I thrive of praises and attentions, please when you like a fic, just a little comment in my inbox would make my whole day (or a reblog with tags). <3

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

From the very beginning, you knew it was going to be complicated, Max had an extremely busy life while you had a student life which forced you to stay in your city most of the times. And it turned out to be even harder than you thought it would be.

That’s why at first, even if Max and you clicked right away, you pushed him away when he confessed his feelings for you, telling him that you didn’t feel the same way when you both knew it wasn’t the truth- eventually, he convinced you to give you a chance, that your relationship would work out.

Sometimes, when the days were hard and you felt lonely at night, as you were wrapped in one of your boyfriend’s sweater, hugging yourself as no one was there to do so, you’d end up asking yourself if your relationship with Max was worth it.

You hated how hard and easily you had fallen for him, the way he cared about you, how he would always try to bring a smile on your face- no matter how hard it would get, you wouldn’t be able to imagine a life without him anymore.

Max was doing his best to make it easier for you, he would text you and send in voice messages too when he couldn’t FaceTime you- for you, it was the hardest, seeing his face and talking to him without his actual presence.

He asked multiple times to come over during one of his Grand-Prix weekends, but you never could as you were drowning in some many homeworks for university. You wanted to join him and give him your full support but you just couldn’t at the moment.

You hoped that once this school year was over, it would get better, that you’d have more free time to travel with Max. You weren’t sure how long the relationship would work out with so much distance, but you’d keep holding onto the hope of seeing him more after this year.

____

It was another one of those evenings you despised the most, those where you couldn’t catch a break with all the studies you had- you were sitting against the couch of your tiny living room, you had one of your books in hands while your laptop was sitting on the table.

What made this evening worse was that you hadn’t received any text from Max or even a call, which was very unusual. Maybe he had forgotten, which saddened you although you could understand.

You were tired and your head was aching, maybe for one night, if you didn’t do all your works, it wouldn’t be too bad, it wouldn’t be impossible to catch up. Sighing, you let your head hang low, resting against your knees, your mind shut out for a minute until you heard a noise at the door.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard a key getting in the door’s lock and unlocking it, no one had the key of your apartment besides Max but he was supposed to be thousand of miles away at the moment. You were scared to look at who entered your home until you heard his voice calling you, “ babe?”

Your head wasn’t playing a trick on you, your boyfriend was truly there and it was hard to believe it as you weren’t supposed to see each other for at least three more weeks, “ Max?”

“ Surprise?”

You couldn’t help but have a smile appears on your tired face, “ is that why you didn’t call or send texts?”

“ Yes, I couldn’t in the plane and since the ride here was short, I just directly came, better than a call, uh?”

You nodded, nothing could be better than seeing the love of your life in person after weeks with only seeing him through a screen. Max made his way through the few meters separating the two of you and kneeled next to you, leaning in to give you a kiss and a hug so tight you could have been suffocated.

Finally having his arms wrapped around you, having him back here with you was enough to bring you to tears, your voice was shaky when you told him how much you missed him, “ I missed you so much, Max.”

“ I know baby, I missed you so much too.”

“ How come you were given some time off?”

“ I didn’t give them a choice, we rescheduled some stuff so I could come here.”

It was sweet of Max to put you before his duties as a Formula One driver but it also made you feel guilty as hell, “ Max… you shouldn’t have come, I don’t want you to get in troubles because of me.”

“ You’re joking, right?” you weren’t sure how to react, so you let him continue as his right hand found your cheek, gently cupping it as his thumb stroked it, “ baby, I’m not blind, I know you didn’t want to tell me but I saw how down you had been feeling these days and how tired you are.”

“ It’s just my studies kicking my ass and I’ve been missing you so much.”

“ You deserve a break, sweetheart. Overworking yourself isn’t healthy,” Max sighed as his eyes looked down for a second, before looking back at you, a sudden sadness in his eyes, “ fuck, i hate that i’m always away and cannot take care of you like you deserve.”

“ Max, love, don’t feel bad because of me, I’m a grown woman I can take care of myself.”

“ I know you can but I also know you tend to forget about yourself, do you sleep enough? Do you drink enough water? Have you even eaten anything this evening?”

It was your turn to look at your feet, you couldn’t lie to Max and say that everything was alright, “ no, I forgot to eat tonight, and I’m pretty sure most students don’t get enough time to sleep.”

“ I don’t care about most students, I only care about you,” Max seemed to think for a minute before his face lighted up all of sudden, “ you know what, enough studies for tonight, I’m gonna cook you something and we’re going to cuddle and rest, alright?”

“ But I still have homework to do!”

“ You’re one of the smartest, most brilliant woman i’ve ever met, I’m sure resting for one night won’t change that.”

“ Do you even know how to cook?”

The silence following your question was enough to give you an answer but you were touched that Max was still willing to try, “ not really, but cooking pastas shouldn’t be too hard, we can add whatever you have to make it better, how does that sound?”

“ I guess that sounds great.”

Max smiled at your answer, he took the liberty to shut off your laptop after making sure your files were saved and piled up your books to clean the table. Once that was done, he helped you get up and headed to your kitchen, determined to make something edible for you tonight.

You wanted to help him even if it was just pasta as you didn’t want him to have travel from so far to just cook you a meal but he insisted for making it himself. Sighing, you sat on the tiny countertop of your kitchen and watched your boyfriend trying his best to make some pastas for you.

“ Next time we both have vacations I won’t leave your side for one minute, I’m literally going to suffocate you.”

That was the sentence that brought a laugh out of you, you liked what he was planning and you wouldn’t like anything else, “ I like the sound of that actually.”

[otmaaromanovas]

I love OTMA and I love learning about them, but sometimes I'm just overwhelmed with sadness thinking about them. When I think about their fate, it's so devastating to me, it's hard to describe it. Everything that could have been, destroyed. The more you learn, the sadder it is. I know their parents, grandparents, etc. were not perfect but I will never know how those men could look at those pure, kind, beautiful girls and do what they did. And to this day I still see people saying they "deserved" what happened to them just because they don't like the tsarist government. It's sick. Sometimes I think if I had a time machine, I would have spirited the children off to England before measles ever ruined their plans. I want to see so badly what they could have become, and knowing that I never will hurts something awful. I thought you'd know more than most where I'm coming from and how I'm feeling ❤️

I'm so sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for months and I've only just got around to replying to it now! This ask made me think a lot - about OTMA, and also history in general.

History is bloody, it's cruel, and it's often so, so unfair. We wish we could go back and change the past, but no matter what we do, we can't. It's blunt, unchangeable, and uncomfortable. I know that feeling you describe all too well!

Yet through the darkness, something shines through the cracks: remembrance. Empires have risen and fallen, rulers have come and gone, but, often, it is the ordinary people that continue to live in our minds, simply because they are remembered - and they’re all truly just like us. Whether it's the doodles that a child did on his homework or the very first signature on a tablet: they were here. We really are not so different than the people who came before us.

I constantly find connections from the past to the present. A name shared with someone from the year 600, sepia photographs of a beloved pet, the same favourite perfume as a Grand Duchess. Centuries apart but drawn together by history. They live on through us, and remembrance is an important part of that. Making sure the next generation has all of that history, and more.

All of this to say that... we can't change the past. It's a sad fact. But we can remember it. When we remember someone, or an event, or whatever it is in history that is important to you, it lives on. So much of history has been lost because it hasn't survived, so tell your stories! Write down your thoughts! Talk about the people you love, the people you have lost. They're still they're with you. Every single person on this earth, whether it is today or thousands of years ago, is apart of the most special club of all: being apart of history. It doesn't matter if you're a king and live in a palace, or a student in a studio flat in the middle of the suburbs, or the little bumblebee that flies around the flowers, weaving in and out of the grass like how history weaves through time. We’re all important.

Another part of history is that it confronts us with tragedy. We look at these horrible things that have happened and think to ourselves, how could people have stood by and let this happen? Why didn't anybody do something? As I said, we can't change the past, but we can change the future. The people of the past are just like us. We’re just like them. But - we can learn from their crimes and build a better and safer, free, world. When you can, speak up, take action, help to form a world which, in hundreds of years time, historians won’t read about it and be confronted by that same uncomfortable feeling that we experience today. Use that frustration, that sadness, and change the world for the better.

[dotster001]

Prompt number 10🥰❤️ with rio from ikepri

(I keep seeing the emojis in my inbox and being like "awww, everyone is so excited!" Then I remember they are prompts 😂 Anywho, I hope you like it. Rio is best boi and I'm pretty sure my bias is showing through)

10. I'm yours, in every possible way.

You had fallen ill. You tried your darndest to work through it, but you'd collapsed in the middle of lessons with Sariel, and hadn't been fully awake since.

You slept feverishly, only being aware for brief moments. In those moments, Rio was always there. You'd wake up for a moment, and he would spoon feed you soup until you fell asleep again. You'd wake up to a wet cloth wiping sweat from your forehead, and see his focused face, which would quickly change to a smile as he shushed you back to sleep. You'd have a feverish nightmare, and he'd rock you gently until you would drift off again.

Eventually,  your fever broke, and you woke up with more awareness. Rio was sitting in the chair next to your bed, reading a book. You stretched and groaned, and the book was immediately on the floor.

"Y/N! You're awake! No don't get up, I'll bring you some food," he hastily moved to the tray of food that seemed ready for you to wake up.

He came back and made to feed you. You giggled.

"I can feed myself Rio," you gave him your best smile, knowing full well that you probably looked too weak to do anything right now.

He pouted at you. "You were asleep for three days. It'll make me feel better if I helped you."

You knew how incisive Rio could be, so you decided to trust him. If he worried you wouldn't be able to feed yourself, he was probably right. Even if you didn't believe him, the way your fingers shook when you tried to move some hair out of your eyes would have proved it.

He fed you as much as you could eat, (which wasn't much, despite your fever breaking, you weren't feeling like you could hold much food down) then he got you a new set of night clothes.

"Can I help you change? I'm sure you could do it yourself but…"

"Thanks, Rio, I'd appreciate it."

He rewarded you with a grin as bright as the sun, then got you changed from your sweaty old pajamas. Once you were changed, he laid you back in your bed, put a new cold cloth on your head, then held your hand, humming and drawing gentle circles on your skin. 

Now that you were fed, awake, and in new clothes, you became more aware of your situation. Suddenly, you panicked.

"Wait! Rio! Have you been with me the entire three days I was asleep?"

He looked confused. "Where else would I be? I had to protect my Y/N?."

"But Rio! What if you get sick?" You were definitely panicking. You didn't want your favorite boy to be bedridden.

He gave you a mischievous grin. "No matter how many times I tell you, you never seem to get it. It doesn't matter if I get sick." 

He leaned down, and gave you a soft, chaste kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back, he cupped your cheek, staring deeply into your eyes with a deep sincerity.

"It doesn't matter because I'm yours. In every," he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, "possible," a gentle kiss on your nose. "Way." He placed a final quick kiss on your lips.

"But…" you started to interrupt.

"No buts. If it makes you feel better, if I get sick, you can wait on me hand and foot to make it up to me. I wouldn't mind you taking care of me." He grinned, and you felt your face warm. He was too good, sometimes you wondered if you truly deserved him.

"Now," he said, booping your nose with his pointer finger, "I can tell that you are tired and need some real sleep, not just your body shutting itself down. So just relax for me. I'll be here when you wake up."

You decided the least you could do was listen to him and try to rest. 

"Mhmm," you hummed. "But promise me if you start to feel ill you'll tell me. I don't want Sariel to yell at you for my illness."

"Ha ha, I'd like to see him try," he smiled, "Now rest, I'm serious."

So you closed your eyes and immediately drifted off. His presence must have been protecting you from nightmares, because all your dreams were filled with sunshine, flowers, and Rio's loving smile.

[britt-writes]

Hey! I'm alive.

Hey there! It's been... a little over a year? Jeez.

I really wanted to make this post to reassure everyone that I am okay. There have been a few people coming to me in my inbox with concern, which I appreciate very much. I do feel bad for not answering any if them when they came, but it is what it is.

I did mention taking a mental health break since I was on the verge of a burnout. Not only was I running a small home business, I was also working outside of home and a student. I still work two jobs, but I've since graduated. Truthfully, I did get into other fandoms as well, so I wrote a bit here and there for other media. I do like variety; it's essential for me to have fun with writing as a hobby. Though that doesn't mean that I've fallen out of love with the RE fandom. Not at all! Lucas still ranks in my top 10 simping targets haha.

A thing happened, however, and it made my mental health spiral into an abyss.

I quit the job that I loved so much because of a dirtbag manager. The owner decided to switch up the managers of my department, and things were fine until he started sexually harassing myself and my two other female coworkers/friends, as well as using intimidation tactics on us to get his way.

He would grope us and tell us that if we didn't want to get groped, we just had to watch how we bent over. He would say gross sexual things to us, and he would push his kinks on us. We had also found out that he had sent unsolicited dick pics in the past to a female employee, and these types of complaints against him were common in the last as well.

We ended up confronting hin in front of a supervisor, and while we thought that they had suspended him, they didn't. He was on mental health break because we had made him depressed. So, we ended up being painted as the bad guys. Nobody would concretely tell us that he was coming back until the very last minute, and the owner had said behind our backs that we needed to get over it, that we were exaggerating and that we had no say in the matter. We complained to everyone possible, and all superiors were well aware of this dirtbag's behavior — past and present — and still protected him.

Quitting a job I loved hurt, and everything that went down with him triggered some past experiences that I had with an abusive ex-boyfriend, so it just added salt to the wound.

I don't like going to that store anymore. I don't want to support a place that seems to think that it's okay for sexual harassment to fly. But I need to go sometimes for emergency specialty supplies that I can't wait for shipping or can't make it to a further store. When I need to go and he's there, I have to fight panic attacks and can't go without someone accompanying me. The dirtbag won't look me in the eye when He sees me and walks away.

I've slowly been getting better. Fighting depression and insomnia has been difficult, but I've been slowly finding the fun in my hobbies that I lost when I deteriorated. Video games, writing, reading, etc.

In fact, I've been having fun making OC bios and writing backstories and personalities. I find that it's a good exercise to get the creative juices flowing while helping me get back into writing without being too overwhelmed.

So, that's the gyst. I'm okay. I'm better. I can't promise that I'll pop up an RE headcanon soon, but I hope to!

Thanks for the concern and reading through this! Much love. ♡

~ Britt

[cha-melodius]

I feel bad for sending you this when you’re almost done catching up with your inbox requests, but I’m such a sucker for your Lokius whumps 😂Here are the prompts I really wanna see for Lokius if you don’t already have plans to write these for other fandoms: 17 hang by a threat or 20 it’s been a long day 🙇

(Congrats anon, you've unlocked a story I'd been meaning to write for a while: a whumpy time loop! Thanks so much for your support and enthusiasm, it means so much to me. This is chapter one of ??, posted now so I could hit the deadline for the 20th. So here you go: No. 20, "It's Been A Long Day".)

It's Been A Bad Day Lately

Read it on AO3 (T, 3.3k, 1/?)

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine!” someone nearly shouts at him, jolting Loki to alertness where he’d apparently fallen asleep on a table in the archives. Again. He looks toward the source of the voice and sees B-15 smirking at him from a short distance away, pruning baton in hand, already geared up for the operation. “Today’s the big day,” she continues, at a slightly more sedate volume now that she’s woken him, “and you’re sleeping on the job. Did you even go back to your room last night?”

“What’s the point?” Loki asks through a yawn. “This table is about as comfortable as the questionable piece of furniture you people insist on calling a bed.”

“You’ll have a lot bigger problems than that if today doesn’t go well,” she retorts, eyeing him with mistrust. Not any more than her usual amount, though. A normal level of suspicion, really. “I still think it’s too early for your first field operation.”

It’s been just over two weeks since he arrived at what seemed to be an alternate TVA to find that anyone he might have counted as a friend no longer knew him, and sometimes he forgets where he is. Or— when, maybe. It’s all very confusing. He’s still unsure whether the B-15 standing before him is the same person as the one he knew, or perhaps something else altogether. The only thing he’s pretty sure of is that they’re not variants of the people he knew, because he’s looked, extensively, there’s no sign that there’s another TVA out there somewhere in the multiverse. The people he’s surrounded by now are nearly identical, except when they are decidedly not, and pretty much all the ground he had gained in earning the trust of his former associates, he’d lost in an instant. It’s annoying, to put it mildly. Still, there are times like these when he wakes up and it feels as if maybe the whole Void thing was just a bad dream, until someone says something that snaps him back to reality.

“As I have informed you before, this is not my first mission with the TVA,” Loki says wearily. “Nor even my first mission with you.”

“Right. In that alternate TVA of yours,” she says, her tone making it clear that she doesn’t fully believe him. Even knowing who Nathaniel Richards is, even knowing what his variants have done and are still trying to do in the timelines, the idea that the TVA itself changed when He Who Remains was killed is beyond comprehension for most of them. Loki doesn’t fully blame them, honestly. Still—

“Mobius believes me.”

“Mobius has a soft spot for you.”

There are some things that make Loki hold onto the hope that the ‘original’ versions of his coworkers are still in there, those memories locked away. The fact that this Mobius seems awfully fond of him, even though he didn’t know who Loki was until he stumbled up to him in the archives, is certainly one of them. Everyone else is justifiably suspicious of him, and Mobius is, too—his Mobius always knew better than to immediately believe whatever Loki told him, after all—but he’s more likely to give Loki the chance to make his case.

Which is how he ended up here, about to go out in the field in pursuit of particularly wily Nathaniel Richards variant. It had taken Loki some time to convince the TVA to let him help, but everyone had frankly been at their wits end with this one. Most of the Richards variants are brilliant scientists, which is a big part of the problem, but this one, number 456, is somehow even worse than most. Once Loki finds out about him, he suspects he’s well on his way to becoming the next He Who Remains, and as much as multiversal war is a drag, he’s in no hurry to have some egomaniacal despot deciding every moment of his life again.

The thing that makes NR456 so troubling is that he always seems to know that they’re coming. At first, this meant he’d disappear not long before they arrived, but as things have gone on he’s started luring them into traps, trying to take out as many agents as possible. They had been sure they had a mole in the organization—which should have been expected, given the TVA’s history—but they’ve never been able to find one. The agents that are left, few though they might be, are loyal; everyone else is gone, disappeared into the fabric of the multiverse.

And so: enter Loki, stage left, full of new ideas based on what he knows about the man given his conversation with He Who Remains. He ends up spending late nights in the archives with Mobius, chasing down leads, and he aches with how very familiar it is but so very not at the same time. At least they don’t lock him in a cell during the night cycles in this TVA, though the small dormitory room they offered him in is hardly better.

“You ready for this?” Mobius asks as Loki takes his place next to him for the briefing.

They’re both wearing tactical vests under their jackets, while the hunters and minutemen around them are decked out in full gear, armed with their pruning batons. The batons are still the TVA’s only weapon, even though no one really knows what’s going on in the Void anymore with He Who Remains gone. Loki certainly hadn't been keen to check. Richards’ men, on the other hand, will be shooting at them with guns and rigging explosives. It hard feels like a fair fight, but Loki’s suggestions that they go get something with more oomph from a timeline have, frustratingly, fallen on deaf ears.

“Not really,” Loki answers honestly. “But I suppose I’ll have to be.”

“Remember, just stick close and follow the plan. If we can surprise him—”

“You can never surprise him.”

“—if we can surprise him,” Mobius repeats, more forcefully, “then we might have a chance.”

“Well, that is as true as it is unlikely,” Loki replies dryly. “Are you sure we can’t pop in somewhere for some real weapons?”

“We’ll be fine. This is how we planned it. It’s gonna work this time, I can feel it.”

They do get close. Closer, as far as Loki can tell from what he’s read about the previous operations, than they ever have before. Richards doesn’t seem to have been forewarned of their arrival, but the building where he’s set up his base of operations is, unfortunately, extremely well-defended regardless of that fact. Loki is exceedingly familiar with the costs of war, but even so, this is brutal. Richards’ men are far better armed and fight with the tenacity of true believers, willing to give their lives for the cause. Ironically, they have a chance to live, if they can survive in whatever’s left of the Void; the hunters and minutemen they shoot down have no such opportunity.

In the chaos, somehow he gets separated from Mobius. He doesn’t even realize it at first, which is disconcerting, because ever since Loki returned from the Void he’s been hyper-aware of where Mobius is at all times. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s not like he’s all that concerned, but he knows that Mobius was never much of a fighter, and he has no reason to suspect that he gained any expertise when he was reset or whatever in Hel’s name happened. Now, though, Loki has no idea where he is, and there’s a rising sense of something making his chest tight and shortening his breath—panic, it’s panic, and he doesn’t know what to do with this realization—and he’s so distracted that he almost gets gutted by a henchman with a knife.

Ok, it wasn’t that close. The panic is frankly far more distressing than his attacker had been. At least he got a knife out of it.

Henchman dispatched, and the others around him occupied, he takes off down the hallway, calling Mobius’s name. Where Mobius could have gotten to, he has no clue, but the longer he goes without finding that familiar silver hair among those still fighting in the hallways, the shakier he gets. Which is insane. This isn’t him, he doesn’t get like this. It’s just the adrenaline, is all.

Finally, finally, he nearly stumbles over Mobius another floor down in the compound, on the way to where they suspect Richards is hiding out, assuming he somehow hasn’t managed to escape already.

“Oh, thank the Norns,” he huffs, doubled over with his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “What happened to you?” “Nothing, nothing,” Mobius says quickly.

Too quickly. Loki hadn’t really thought he’d have actually gotten into trouble, but now that he looks closer it appears that Mobius is kind of… listing to one side and pressing one hand to his abdomen. Loki makes a grab for him, ignoring Mobius’s squawk of protest, and pulls his hand away at the same time as he peels back the front of the jacket.

“Fuck, Mobius,” he says, horrified by the sheer amount of blood he finds staining Mobius’s clothes. There’s so much of it, and it seems to be everywhere but where it should be. “What happened?”

“It’s fine, ‘m ok,” Mobius insists, but he’s so, so pale, whiter even than his hair, and almost immediately afterward he staggers, knees buckling beneath him and sending him careening into Loki’s arms.

“We have to get you out of here,” Loki says. He’s already trying to hurry Mobius back down the hall, desperate to get out of the building so they can open a time door, but the other man puts up a surprising amount of resistance. 

“Loki, wait, wait—” Mobius heaves a huge, shuddery breath as he manages to drag them to a halt. “We can’t leave. You can’t leave. We’re so close. You should go— go after the variant.”

“What? You’re being ridiculous, Mobius, we need to get you help. We’ll get him another time.”

“We’ve n-never been so close. We c–can’t give up. Not now.”

“I’ll come back, then—” Loki tries.

“No!” Mobius shouts, startling him. He tugs Loki a little closer, until Loki has no choice but to meet his gaze, full of fear and pain but also hard, stubborn determination. “’M not gonna make it, Loki. ’M not.”

Loki opens his mouth and closes it again before he manages a weak, “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Mobius sighs, “and so do you. Look at me. I’m toast.” He hiccups a laugh, then winces in pain. “Sorry we never figured out what happened to your TVA. Maybe— maybe you get to this Richards variant, and he can tell you how to fix it.”

What does it matter, if you’re not there with me? The question rises unbidden and unexpected to his lips, and it’s only by luck that he doesn’t actually speak it out loud. Loki is very aware that his feelings for the Midgardian are far from usual for him, that he might have grown a little attached, but for him to be indulging in this kind of sentiment… that takes him wholly by surprise.

“You’re a g— a good man, Loki,” Mobius says when Loki doesn’t respond, his words slurring together even more than they were before. He presses a hand weakly to Loki’s chest and leaves a bloody handprint behind on his vest. “Make this worth it.”

Something inside of Loki breaks at that. Maybe it should mean less, since Mobius doesn’t really know him anymore—doesn’t remember all his terrible history, though Loki has hinted at such more than once—but somehow, it doesn’t. Somehow, it’s just as shattering as when Mobius had stood before him and told him you can be whoever you want, even someone good. He’d watched Mobius die then, too, before they found out that pruning was less than permanent, and even though he hadn’t let himself acknowledge it at the time, revenge had driven him on after that just as much as anything else. History, it seems, as a way of repeating itself.

“I will,” he promises, squeezing Mobius’s hand in his own before he finally tears himself away.

Unfortunately, finding the Richards variant in the labyrinthine building is no easy task. This Richards may not have an Alioth but he certainly has tried to build the equivalent out of henchmen, and there’s no putting all of them to sleep at once. Even with full use of his magic, Loki is stretched thin, pushed to the very limit and only able to stay there thanks to the white-hot fury coursing through his veins. With the help of a few minutemen, he cuts his way through to the deepest level of the compound, where he finds the variant apparently just… waiting for them.

“Oh,” Richards says, looking slightly taken aback, when Loki bursts into his inner sanctum. He doesn’t, however, appear particularly worried, despite the fact that Loki has a gun taken off a henchmen trained on him. “You’re new. How intriguing.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Loki scoffs. “Intriguing?”

Richards just grins at him, leaning nonchalantly back in his chair, and Loki is briefly thrown back to the citadel at the end of time with He Who Remains before him. This Richards is less flamboyantly dressed, preferring instead a simple but well-cut suit and tie, but he has the same unhinged smile and the same confident insouciance. Loki can’t figure out how he could be so cavalier about being cornered like this, until Richards stretches his arms behind his head and he catches sight of some kind of watch-like device—that is nonetheless clearly not a watch—strapped to his wrist. A type of tempad, perhaps, like He Who Remains wore, which he no doubt intends to use to escape this situation.

“What more would you like?” Richards asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Richards wants to do casually threatening? Loki excels at casually threatening. He lowers the gun, just slightly, and pastes a cruel grin on his face as he takes a few steps forward. “How about some acknowledgement that the TVA finally caught up to you?” Loki counters. “That’s got to be pretty galling.”

“We-ell,” Richards says, drawing out the word and smirking like he’s in on some secret that Loki is not. “It’s not, strictly speaking, the first time this has happened.”

That… doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing in the TVA’s files that indicates they’ve ever gotten this close. No reports of anyone even seeing this Richards variant before in person.

“In fact,” Richards continues, “it’s not even the tenth time. This one was more of a surprise than most, I’ll give you that. Too bad it won’t matter.”

“And why, pray tell, is that?” “Well I could tell you, since it won’t make any difference, but honestly explaining it has gotten tiresome. So let’s just have it over with, shall we?”

With that, Richards unfolds his hands from behind his head and stretches them out in front of him instead, then starts to adjust something on the device strapped to his wrist. His way out, which he certainly can’t be allowed to exploit, not after everything that’s happened today. Loki practically launches himself across the remaining distance and tackles Richards to the ground, spilling him out of the chair and onto his back. Conjuring the knife he took from the henchman, he pins Richards’ sleeve to the floor and presses the gun under his chin, and it is so, so tempting to end him right then and there. Norns know he deserves it, but something stays Loki’s hand. This Richards is probably his best bet at finding out what happened when the TVA was reset, and the lure of that knowledge is powerful.

Then there’s the way that Richards grins up at him, looking more than half-crazed, and goads, “Go on, take the shot. You know you want to. Do it.”

And that’s just fucking suspicious.

“A tempting offer,” Loki muses with a cold smile, before he slants his eyes toward Richards’ wrist. “But I’m more curious about this.” Then he grabs the device and yanks it off in one smooth motion, snapping the band easily. The way Richards’ expression flattens into utter terror is almost comical, and Loki’s smile sharpens further. “So it is your exit strategy, then. How does it work?”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Richards tries, now struggling ineffectually underneath him. For how dangerous variants of this man can be, he’s still only a Midgardian, and no match for Loki’s strength. “You can’t—”

“Can’t what?”

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to find out. Chaos erupts in the hallway again as more henchmen finally arrive to tangle with the minutemen who’d been guarding the exit, and Loki swears under his breath. His choices have now become get answers or get out, but before he can make up his mind on whether to leave Richards alive, one of the henchmen appears in the doorway and takes aim.

“No!” Richards screams, but it’s too late; a one of the rain of bullets finds its home in Loki’s neck, and quite abruptly, everything goes dark.

~~~~~

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine!”

Loki startles awake so hard he falls out of the chair. The chair in the archives at the TVA, where he’d been sleeping. Sleeping, not dead. He immediately lifts a hand to his neck and finds it whole and unmarked—he’s alive. Norns, it was all a terrible dream. Letting out a long, shaky breath, he looks up to find B-15 giving him a powerfully bemused look from where she stands a short distance away, pruning baton in hand, already geared up for the operation.

“Seem a bit on edge, there,” she says dryly, then continues: “Today’s the big day, and you’re sleeping on the job. Did you even go back to your room last night?”

Which is… odd. Loki is certainly not going to be the one to question the existence of premonitory dreams, but to his knowledge they are rarely so startlingly clear and painfully accurate. As the fog of sleep clears from his mind, he’s left with the unmistakable feeling that it wasn’t a dream at all, which is impossible. There’s no haziness to his memory, though, nor are the details slipping through his fingers the way that dreams do when you try to grasp them more fully. He can still remember exactly what he had answered.

“What’s the point?” he says carefully, watching B-15’s reaction. If there’s weird time stuff going on, safe to say that the TVA is probably involved. “This table is about as comfortable as the questionable piece of furniture you people insist on calling a bed.”

If she’s heard any of this before, she makes no sign of it. “You’ll have a lot bigger problems than that if today doesn’t go well,” she retorts, word for word, eyeing him with the same typical level of suspicion. “I still think it’s too early for your first field operation.”

That definitely seals it. Something is wrong. Maybe the Norns gifted him with an exceptionally detailed premonition of his future, but if they did, then what happens during the operation today… well, he doesn’t really want to think about it. Shaking his head, he tries to push himself off the ground, and it’s only then that he realizes that there’s something clutched in his hand. He hadn’t been holding anything when he went to sleep, nor had he woken with anything in his hand in the dream, so he doesn’t really know what to expect when he opens his fist. Certainly not what’s inside. He might forget how to breathe for a minute or ten.

Because there, cradled in his palm, is a watch that’s not quite a watch, its strap broken, and a splatter of dried blood on its face: the same exact device that he’d pulled off Nathaniel Richards’ wrist shortly before he’d been killed.

“You know,” he says absently, still staring at the device, “I think you may be right.”

[railroad-migraine]

Hello, hope you’re having a lovely day! I've fallen in love with your nickname headcanon that you wrote for Campaign 3 ♥, it genuinely made me feel all warm inside (ㄒoㄒ). Can you write a headcanon about how Chetney starts to fall head over heels with a very compassionate s/o?

I loved writing the nicknames post, and it seems to be loved back by critters, so I'm happy you enjoyed it! I wasn't expecting a Chetney request in my inbox, but I am pleased that I got one ;)

This campaign is full of such weird, unique, and intriguing characters. I'm thriving.

~ Poet

Falling in Love with a Compassionate!Reader

Chetney

Upon first meeting you, Chetney had feelings.

Many feelings.

Many, many mixed feelings.

On one hand, you were soft, with delicate words and good intentions, and welcomed him into the group with open arms. You found his personality endearing, and encouraged the group to give him a chance.

On the other hand, he was suspicious on whether or not you were doing that to lure him into a state of false security so you could pounce and ruin him when you saw a possibility.

But as the days went on, you proved that was not the case.

You were simply, consistently good. You followed through with your promises, and wore your heart on your sleeve - your moral compass had taught you to be a genuine and lovely person.

And someone such as Chetney really needed someone like that in his life. Your generosity and optimism was a breath of fresh air and before he knew it, he had fallen for you.

You humoured his quirks and defended him (both in battle and in petty party disagreements). The more opportunities to spend time with you that presented themselves, he took, and huddled next to your side by the fire or scouted ahead with you as you tailed a target.

He develops a habit of whittling you little wooden toys and knickknacks when you're not looking, purely to see the look of surprise on your face when he presents them. His chest swells with affection when you thank him and sometimes press a kiss to the top of his head.

Chetney then scuttles away before you can see the adorable colour tinting his cheeks.

He. Goes. Feral. If anyone makes you uncomfortable. You know the scary dog privilege meme? That's you with Chetney, foaming at the mouth at your heels and growling at any sketchy person that approaches you, but is all puppy eyes whenever you check in with him.

Before you guys become a couple, but after you've established you're more than friends, he removes his hat from his head and holds it earnestly to his chest. He bows a little, and murmurs something about how he doesn't deserve you.

Kneel before him and just. Hug him. He nearly crumbles in your arms. Let him know that he more than deserves you. He'll grumble half-assed excuses, but he will learn to accept that you're there to stay, and there for him to lean on.

Take good care of this lil dude.

[mae-gi-writes]

Yūgen | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Yugen (n.) a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe that triggers a deep, emotional response. 

Requested by anon! In which Sunwoo, the ace of the volleyball team, is curious about what you’re drawing all the time. Until one day, he stumbles upon a drawing of himself made from yours truly. 

Genre: fluff, volleyball player! Sunwoo and art student reader, shy love, softness, and inspired by haikyuu because I have been obssessed with the anime lately TT__TT  A/N: It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve posted here! Slowly but surely, I’m going through my inbox and replying to your requests. Thank you for your patience, stay safe loves, ily all xx 

-----

Sunwoo wasn't artistically inclined.

But that never stopped him from admiring those that were. He was always so curious as to how just a flick of fingers managed to create a shadow, or how just one glance at a subject made it through onto paper without so much as an effort to remember the details. It was like it was automatically recorded into one's brain, hands already registered to mimic the curves and the folds and the shadows that turned into nothing short of a miraculous piece. So when he caught sight of someone drawing, it always piqued his interest. He stumbled upon you one late afternoon after his volleyball practice, with sweat dotting his forehead and his training bag slung casually over his shoulder. He was about to direct his way to the parking lot upon exiting the gymnasium, only to spot a lone figure huddled upon the bleachers and curled into a ball that caused Sunwoo to frown. Slowly sidling up to the stranger in question and peeking over the railing to catch a glimpse of your face, his eyes are instantly driven to the sketchpad in your hands.

You didn't notice him though, so absorbed in your own world with earphones blocking out reality that a tsunami could've gone unnoticed. So Sunwoo took advantage to climb over onto the opposite bleacher and, after ensuring that your back wouldn't turn to greet him, leaned over the separation to catch sight of a lone figure cartwheeling freely over the page. Woah. You were talented alright. There was nothing else to describe the fluidity of movement you caught with your pencil. It made Sunwoo's breath catch in his throat. He had the sudden urge to know exactly what kind of face hid behind the visual mastery manifesting before his very eyes. After all, there must be other things for them to see rather than the boring literal reality that most people settled for. What kind of imageries were they creating in their heads? What beautiful stories were they crafting? Worlds they got lost in? You moved then, causing Sunwoo to jolt back and scurry away with his heart beating out of his chest, deciding that it was enough spying for the day. After that day, he made sure to seek you out every time after practice although he noticed you never strayed too long in the same place, always moving about like a shadow lingering in the corner, invisible yet omniscient. Sometimes you would find a quiet spot in a patch of sunlight by the tennis courts. Sometimes you'd be found on the bleachers, alert eyes observing every pass, every move, every twist of a body like  camera taking everything in. Sunwoo never approached you. Not that he didn't want to, but he found it awkward to just come up to you and present himself as the guy who'd been stalking your drawings. So he admired you from afar instead, relished in the passion of your dark coffee coloured eyes and in the attentive focus dipping your eyebrows in a soft frown, lips paeted slightly in concentration. "Do you know her?" He'd asked one of his friends from the volleyball team once, during their lunch break as he saw you line up at the cafeteria. Changmin took a peek at your face before he shook his head, "she might be in one of my electives." "Which one?" "I think it's art." Sunwoo forced his face to remain in a mask of calmness as he grabbed a steak sandwich, no fries, "do you know her name?" "Nah. I don't think she's ever spoken in class," Changmin's eyebrows quirk up then, "why'd you ask?" "No reason." Changmin's pointed look defined anything but that.  Although he did have the decency to drop the subject as soon as the rest of the volleyball team joined the table. Sunwoo got his answer a few days later when he practically toppled over you and your drawing crayons. It was his mistake. He'd been leaning too far out from the top of the basketball bleachers, struggling to get even the smidgest glimpse of what amazing piece of art hiding under your jacket sleeve, only for his foot to slip. Down he went with a curse, crashing straight into your body and quickly scrabbling to wrap his arms around your head, a pathetic attempt to cushion your fall as you fell into a heap in front of the bleachers. "You--you okay?" He huffed out, breathless and heart beating like a time bomb. Pulling his arms away slowly, gently, he finally met your gaze straight on and --oh my, your eyes were not coffee coloured at all.  But more of a honey-brown, wide open and framed by soft lashes. Currently dilated in panic. "I'm fine! What--What about you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry--" "No it was my fault," he made a grab for your sketchbook and scattered pens only for his orbs to register the face messily etched onto the paper. His breath caught. For a minute, he could do nothing but stare at the replica of his face made in charcoal. Those were his eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The scowl he wore during his soccer matches. That was him. The resemblance was akin to that of perfection. That was before your hands snatched away the sketchbook before you quickly slammed it closed, cheeks blazing red, "that's-- I swear I"m not a creep, I-- I just do that for practice--" "It's amazing." Your head-- which had been bowed this entire time for fear that anger would be his response -- shot up in surprise, "what?" "It's amazing," Sunwoo repeated. He wouldn't mind repeating it forever, he realized, if that meant he got to see that aforable blush of yours. He reached out with his hand, "can I look at it again?" So you allowed him after some slight hesitation, and if he noticed, he didn't comment. Fingers brushing against yours slightly, he handled the sketchbook with utmost care as he flipped through the pages with child-like awe. He'd seen your drawings, sure, but mere glimpses here and there, a sneak peek, always accompanied with the fear of being found. But now, he could take his time and actually relish in the soft tracings of your crayon, admire the gentle shadings that made up the tip of his nose. You had managed to capture that frown -- the one he used whenever he concentrated -- to perfection and for a minute he swore he'd fallen in love with himself. "You're really good," he murmured, though that definitely banalized the array of praises popping through his head, "you should keep doing them. I mean it." "So, you're not--" you paused, "mad?" "Well I think you'd have more reason to be mad if you knew I was stalking you from before." "What?" Oh Sunwoo, you idiot. Your eyes had tripled their size and you were looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. He lifted his hands as defence, "that sounded so much better in my head. I swear I'm not that creepy, or a stalker, I just--well you're always drawing and I got curious but I can't really come over and tell you to show me so I had to hide and peek and--" You burst out laughing in his face and despite the fact that he was the cause, he couldn't help joining in with a small chuckle, a grin spreading across his features at how alive you looked at this very moment. "You can ask me next time," your grin settled into a soft smile, "I don't bite." "Your words, not mine," he said, tone lighter and teasing. He helped you gather your belongings and as the pair of you started towards the school gates, he asked for your name. "Y/N," you answered, "and you?" "Sunwoo," he noticed the sky was darkening into purple, a sign that twilight was approaching. Usually, he'd be in a hurry to catch the last bus of the evening to avoid the pain of traffic after six. But it was like his body was slowing down on its own to join your pace, as if he was automatically tuning in to the rhythm of your steps. He found he didn't mind. "So why athletes? Any special reason why you like drawing them?" He asked as you reached the gates. "I just like watching the way they move. It's ...graceful," a hand went to rub the back of your neck, "and they come in handy for figure practice." "I mean, we're not that graceful when you're on the pitch ready to get blown away," he chuckled, "but thanks. At least we know we don't play like animals." "Oh god no. The volleyball team's pretty good. The rugby team on the other hand..." you sigh before you shake your head, "that team is nearly impossible to draw." His shoulders shook as he laughed, "well I don't think they aim for graceful. They look like a pack of wild dogs. Even I don't understand how they play." You had reached the said bus stop by then before you spotted your mother's car along the sidewalk, "oh, my mom's here," you turn to him, "where do you live? Maybe we can drop you--" Meeting your mom? On the first day of meeting you? Sunwoo's hands flew up, shaking them wildly in response, "oh no no, that's not necessary. I'll see you tomorrow!" Thank god for the bus that pulled up at the right time so that he didn't have to linger longer than he needed to. But he didn't miss the small wave of your hand as you watched him go, the smile on your face warming his heart even when it was one of the coldest winter days of the year. From that day onwards, Sunwoo made it a must to make his presence known whenever you were deep in your sketches, always observing, sometimes silently keeping you company and sometimes getting so wrapped up in conversation that your pens would lay forgotten by your bag as you bantered back and forth about subjects that would've made people throw you looks of concern. It became routine to have Sunwoo's head pop up from behind the bleachers or to see him walk up the path to your special hiding spot, right where your gaze would meet the tennis court. You sketched him more and more, folding your drawings into your bag so that he wouldn't see although the urge to catch his face on paper was a growing addiction you couldn't ignore. Even your friends had noticed his lingering presence, proceeding to prod you with questions reflecting their curiosity. "He's from the vòlleyball team isn't he?" Yeji asked one time during lunch, upon noticing the way the said young man's stare lingered over the back of your head before turning away just as quickly, "do you know him?" "We've spoken once or twice." "How do you know him?" Your other friend, Saeron, nudged you with a wriggle of her brows. You brushed her teasing away, "we bumped into each other and then he saw my drawings." "Oh right, you do sketch athletes," Yeji leaned forward, mouth full of bread, "did you sketch him?" "I did, actually." "Oh awkward," Saeron giggled, "he's handsome though, can't deny that. You gotta introduce us sometime." You mumbled out an agreement even though you sat with them just for the sake of having people around. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate them. You did. But they seemed to speak a language you couldn't quite grasp. You would rather sit in your own silence, enjoy your own company if that made sense. Maybe that was why it was so surprising, that you allowed Sunwoo to linger as long as he wanted to. There was something authentic about the way he reacted to your words, an unguarded expression that made you comfortable enough to speak up without fear of judgment. Spending time with Sunwoo was listening to water trickle down the river. Smooth and free. Peaceful. But Sunwoo seldom knew of your high regards, was not aware of the tiny sketch of his figure in mid-spike that was hidden in the pocket of your school skirt so that you could take a peek whenever you felt out of place or nervous. It calmed you down to admire his composure, even if his expression was a mere mimic that could not replace reality. "Do you have any material in particular that you like to use?" Sunwoo asked one cloudy afternoon, breaking the silence while huddling a little closer to peek at your newest sketch of Lee Juyeon; a basketball star player known for his quick reflexes and adept playing style. Not only was his skill on par with that of a Nationals team, but his looks had garnered him quite a fanbase from the get-go. Sunwoo would've liked to say that he wasn't jealous of the way your thumb gently applied shade to Juyeon's lower lip. But the spike in the middle of his chest proved him otherwise. "I like charcoal the most, it's the easiest to work with," pausing to admire your work, your eyes glanced over at him, "do you draw?" He scoffed, "like a five year old." "Wanna try?" "No way. I'll ruin it. I'm okay with admiring it from afar." You hummed an unknown tune as you pulled back your sketchbook, "how is practice?" "Alright. Could be better. We won a practice match last week so we're kind of taking it easy." "That's good though isn't it?" Your gaze met his. His eyes were various gradients of warm maroon and you wished-- at this very moment -- to paint his features into memory. That was when you realized how close you were. You shuffled slightly back and didn't notice the frown Sunwoo threw you in response, "it is. And I'm happy we get to rest. The team deserves it." "You're pursuing it in College?" Your eyes tried not to linger too much over his lips, "volleyball, I mean." "Depends," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "if we make it to the Nationals." "You will." "Someone's confident," he chuckled. "Well I'm no pro but even I can tell you're talented, Sunwoo," you peeked at him from behind your fringe, glad that you could blame the cold for your red cheeks when just the intensity and closeness of his entity made you want to squirm, "so if there's anyone who can do it, it's you." It was impossible to keep eye contact after such a confession. You lowered your gaze, glad for your sketchbook that acted as a distraction. It was at that very moment that the paper tucked so neatly in your pocket slipped out, causing Sunwoo to quickly make a grab for it. You made a noise of protest before trying to snatch it back, but the boy only chuckled before unfolding the creased page so that there he was, depicted in all his glory. "Is that--" his voice was hoarse and you took this as your chance to steal it from his grasp, reddened cheeks burning and fingers shaking as you folded it back to its tiny square shape, "is that me?" "Y--yes." "You--you keep that with you?" "I--I do," you lifted your chin up defiantly, though you felt your limbs trembling. His eyes, they pierced your own, piecing together a coherence that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. When he spoke next, his words were a mere murmur. "Why?" "I--I don't know," eyes darting towards the ground, you mumbled, "I just like watching you...play." A pause. Then, Sunwoo shifted a little bit closer. "You like watching me play? Or do you like," he cocked his head, "watching me?" If you were red before then you were probably the colour of a fire engine truck by now. Averting your eyes and turning your head away were instinctive responses due to the blood rushing through your face. "Stop flirting with me," came your mumble. Laughing softly in response, he scooted himself a little closer, so close that his shoulder brushed your back. He leaned over, head tilted to catch your expression. "Cute," his lips broke out in a crooked grin and you swore you felt your heart explode. Flustered, you shoved him away out of instinct but he wasn't having any of that. His hand grabbed your wrists and with a yelp, you were dragged even closer to his chest. "You like looking at me that much huh?" His tone was teasing while his eyes glimmered with playful mischief, "why is that,Y/N?" "You ask as if you don't know," you mumbled out through jumbled words and you were glad he actually understood you. But instead of laughing some more, his features softened into a smile instead as he proceeded to gaze down at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was in your normal behaviour to admire people. Not the other way around. And at this very moment, you felt way out of your comfort zone. "I don't know." Your orbs flew up to his in surprise and what you found in those coffee-coloured pupils made your breath stutter, heat coiling through your abdomen. "It...it calms me down," your whisper was barely louder than a breath but by the way Sunwoo's smile widens to reach his eyes, you could tell he heard you just fine. "I like watching you too," he replied. A strand of your hair caught in the wind and he raised his hand to curl it around the back of your ear, his touch ghosting with sparks wherever flesh bumped into flesh. You felt warm. He didn't pull away. Didn't bother hiding the slight dust of pink in his cheeks either, as he slowly allowed his palm to cradle the side of your face. Gently. As if he feared you might run away, recoil back. But you didn't. Even with your breaths going staccato, even if your heart felt like a wild animal. You calmed yourself down with the knowledge that he seemed just as nervous as you were and suddenly, out of a stroke of boldness, your hand went up to hold on to his, pressing it close to your cheek. His breath hitched. You shivered. The wind blew against your figures, a gentle reminder that the day was coming to an end. You weren't exactly sure what changed that day. There were no verbal agreements, nothing that suggested your relationship had changed. Yet, the subtle touches of his hand against your back, your shoulders, moving your hair from one shoulder to another, complemented by his gentle doe-eyed stare that made your toes curl, these changes were small, but significant. And you couldn't find it in your heart to say that you disliked it. What are we? The words lingered at the tip of your tongue, as bitter as the aftertaste of coffee as you stole small glances in his direction. You were sitting comfortably under a tree that overlooked the tennis court where Sunwoo had decided to join you. He'd fallen asleep halfway through your beginning sketch and was now leaning against the tree trunk, face relaxed and body leaned towards yours, close enough that you could admire his face. Countless hours you had spent tracing Sunwoo's features on paper. Countless times you had imagined tracing his lips with your thumb, wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. Maybe it was just curiosity or maybe you had let him walk into your heart so easily that you hadn't realized it yourself. But if there was one thing you could swear your heart upon it would be that you could no longer imagine every day without Sunwoo's presence at your side. As if on instinct, your fingers took a life of their own as they reached up to push a few strands away from his face. They gently carved a path down his cheek, landing at the corner of his jaw. Dangerously close to his open mouth. There was no denying it. Sunwoo was beautiful. Handsome. Had those features on par to that of a model's. You were so focused on edging your way to touch his lower lip that you didn't realize you had been staring, until you glanced up to see his brown orbs fixated on yours. You froze. Shit. "Like what you see?" He murmured. Then, before you could scramble back and probably run with your tail between your legs, his own hand grasped your own and he pushed himself off the trunk before his head angled towards yours, finding your lips. Soft. Sunwoo's lips were soft. You panicked. Not used to the closeness. The fire that sparked between your lids. But his other hand went to clasp your jaw, holding you close as he kissed your next protest away and unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek. Shivering in his touch, there was no running away from the way his mouth molded against yours so snugly, and you didn’t want to. You found yourself addicted to the sweet pressure of his upper lip meeting your lower ones and soon enough -- without realizing -- you melted into his touch. 

Sunwoo made a noise that sounded like a soft grunt, his other hand lacing around your waist to pull you closer so that you tumbled halfway into his lap. With embarrassment suddenly flooding through you, you let out a squeak that he answered with a chuckle of his own before distracting you once more with a series of kisses that left you gasping.

Your hands, initially balled into fists in your lap, went to rest against his chest and you didn’t realize that you were gripping onto his school shirt until you parted for air. Only were you aware of your compromising position, of the hard ridges of the young man’s thighs, of the firmness of his chest against your palms, of the way he seemed to be so much bigger than you even though he was a lean athlete, meant to be light and as speedy as the wind. 

Breaths coming out ragged, you tried to slow the beating of your heart. Though it seemed to be quite the challenge, given how lovingly, how intense, Sunwoo seemed to be in making love to your neck, nibbling on your pulse point and causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips. 

A whistle blew in the distance.

The soccer team. They’d be crawling up the hill any minute now.

“Sunwoo,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with mixed feelings of desire and embarrassment. You feebly tried pushing against his chest, to no avail. He merely groaned, head tilting upwards to catch your mouth into another kiss. 

“Sunwoo,” you groaned against his lips. But he held on for dear life, one hand clasping the back of your neck, tangled into your locks. The other around your waist, pressing you as close as he could possibly get you to be. 

“Just one more,” he mumbled in-between kisses, hooded eyes fluttering closed and head slanting to kiss you a little deeper, a little harder.

Your body was on fire. You weren’t used to this intimacy, nor all of the affection he was raining down upon you. 

But it felt good. It felt amazing. Eye-opening.

He finally relented after what seemed like an eternity and you quickly made a move to scramble out of his lap. Though he wasn’t having any of that, grip made of iron as he held on. You looked up to snap at him to let go before everyone saw but was faced with his pout instead, which was enough to bring down your defences. 

“Please,” his pout deepened and your heart practically vaulted through your chest. Cute. Cute. Cute. Stop. Burying his face into your neck, he whispered, “I just wanna hold you.” 

So he did. And thank god the team had decided to take a different route so that you would avoid their imploring, questioning gazes. Though Sunwoo admitted that he’d already known they would go up from the other side of the gymnasium, considering they did that every other week to train their stamina in the process. 

That earned him a light smack on the side of his head, making him whine, “What did I do to deserve this Y/N?” 

“You knew!” You wanted to throw him a glare, but it was impossible when you were busy fighting the grin spreading across your face. 

He grinned back at you, that crooked smile that always resulted in a burst of butterflies roaring through your abdomen. Just like now. 

“So, since you have a drawing of me that you keep staring at every day--” his words died into laughter when you tried smacking his arm, proceeding to cage your wrist with his hand before kissing your knuckles. You squirmed as he continued, “does that mean I can get a picture of you?”

You let out a noise of protest, “that depends,” you mumbled, unconsciously finding refuge in his neck.

Chuckling, Sunwoo grasped your chin lightly to pull you back so that his brown orbs gazed right into yours with a gentleness that had you weak at the knees, “on what?” 

“On what I get in return.” 

“What if I say I’ll take you on a date?” he said wickedly. 

You couldn’t help your smile. 

“I guess that could work.” 

[ticketstomydaydreams]

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, “Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @brightblaqkkheaven

Lace Up! ❌❌

[writing-in-april]

Soured Nostalgia

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When Reader moves their stuff in to Spencer’s apartment they find photos that he kept over the years. One photo of the past springs up memories of Spencer’s precious relationship with Elle.

A/N: hey heeeyyy everybody- here’s a fic I’ve been really excited to share with everyone. It’s my eleventh fic for my 30 fics in 30 days!!! This was the original request (I made it a little different lol I hope you like it)I had a fun time with it mostly cause I totally think Spencer and Elle had something going on at some point 😉 Plus I got to incorporate older angsty post prison Spencer and mention how he used to be a little baby ☺️ I’m curious to hear y’all’s thoughts about the Reidaway ship, or really anything so feel free to drop an ask to my inbox here. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Joking about being jealous???, Reidaway in the past, Spencer being sad about the people who’ve left him, Sub Spencer, Only a bit of dry sex, Masturbation, Unprotected sex, Use of a belt to restrain, A few taps on the cheek, Reader’s hand is around Spencer’s throat for a second

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.2k

Reminiscing on the past was difficult depending on how the story had ended. Memories that may have been happy could turn too painful because of the ending result. Age turned the memories into unreliable accounts as well, unable to truly remember how things had been back then and how you had truly felt.

Memories were still something to hold onto and cherish even though they got twisted with age and opinion. Nostalgia, a sentimental or wishful affection for the past, was an addictive feeling even if it made you cry. It remained addictive even if most of your past memories had hurt you with no sentiment attached. Everyone always chased the euphoric feelings they had when looking at the ghosts of their past. Sometimes even when looking back you can find something that had once soured had turned sweet again.

Spencer had many memories that he was no longer able to look back upon for a host of reasons. Most often it was because he could no longer bear to look back on a memory of someone who had left him. Whether it was his Dad, Gideon, Hotch, Blake, Elle, and many others, looking back at them just made him often feel like everyone in his entire life had left him.

That wasn’t true of course, he still had his Mom- and you. Even with his Mom there were still many of his memories with her were still stained with guilt, though that had gotten better with time and with your help.

You had begun helping him find the benefit in looking back, trying to make the soured nostalgia a bit sweeter again. It was getting easier as time ticked by for him to open up to you about everything in his past, the good and the bad. At first you had been staring at a wall that he had been building higher and higher throughout the years, it was daunting how tall it was. When you helped take a sledgehammer to it, making it crumble beneath your effort, he pulled away for a while. He felt comfortable by himself behind his own Great Wall until you showed him the benefits of sharing the secrets he held behind it. But, you still stayed, helping him as much as you could until he was willing to open up.

It had been many months since you started your effort to help him break it down. At some point in the last months you had both fallen into a relationship, a romantic one. What had once been a platonic relationship forged from shared interests evolved into a romance emerging from the rubble of his wall.

He had even given you a key to his apartment at one point, which he had never done with anyone except the bureau. Emily was the one that really had it, but that was strictly for work reasons. This was a show of trust which was much more helpful than his wall that had reached the heights of a skyscraper.

A simple key soon turned into you staying at his place more often than at your own. You had casually mentioned one day while watching one of Spencer’s favorite documentaries that you basically lived here now. It was a true statement, most of the clothes you wore on a daily basis had been given a spot in his dresser and the toothbrush you kept there was not the one you used for travel- that one was at your place. You had begun to put your mark on Spencer’s life in a more permanent way than before.

When he had spontaneously suggested the next day that you should move in with him, you knew that your small comment had stuck in his brain. It was easy to agree to, you had said you basically already lived here, plus living with the love of your life sounded like a dream. You only had a few things that you wanted to bring over and it was mostly decorative stuff that you could’ve let go if Spencer hadn’t insisted that he wanted you to make the space your own.

While turning the space that was once solely Spencer’s into something for you both, you had found a small clear box with a blue lid, filled with pictures. Spencer didn’t have a lot of personal pictures framed, there was one with you and him by the bed, one with the team by his desk, one with him and Morgan on the living room wall, and one with you two and his Mom also hung up in the living room.

When you had shown him the box he could tell you were curious, letting you look through it without a moment of hesitation. In the past Spencer would have been wary sharing his memories with you, but now he’d let you look. If only you could get him to look at the box with you.

You weren’t surprised he didn't want to look with you once you saw the people littered throughout the snapshots. Varying people that had left were in most of them, even some you never met.

Ones with Hotch and Gideon- even one from a long time ago with his father buried at the bottom. As you browsed through them you were glad he was able to hang up that photo of him and Morgan, at least they had parted with some closure. It also helped that he still saw him regularly, he had never fully left like some of the people from his past.

One picture in particular stood out to you, it was another team photo, they seemed more carefree in this one compared to now. There was baby Spencer, before you had known him, in a birthday boy hat smiling with the rest of the team. You guessed it was around his 23rd or 24th birthday, going by the slick back gelled hair he had sported in his earlier years. He seemed so much more different back then, perhaps more carefree compared to now. But, he also seemed much more unsure of himself, maybe a bit self conscious. In the photo you could tell he was nervous, just by the look in his eyes. He still had that same look in his eyes whenever he felt nervous.

Then you looked closer at where his eyes were focused on, there was a clear line of sight from him to Elle. Elle was way less nervous in this captured moment compared to Spencer, though from what you had heard she had always been like that.

Your gaze on the photo was broken when Spencer then came into the living room where you were sitting on the couch.

You decided to test the waters to see if he might want to take a look at the photo with you, “Why do you look so nervous in this photo?”

He stopped the path he had been taking, then stood still for a second before deciding to sit next to you on the couch. Straining his neck he gazed over at the photo you were holding in your hands. It was silent for a while as he looked over it, stopping to look at his old team. Some of the team still remained intact, namely JJ, but she wasn’t the same as she had been all those years ago. You let him take it from your hands, so he could look at it closer. He cleared his throat a little, though his voice still came out slightly raspy when he spoke, though he didn’t answer the question you had asked him,“It’s the only picture I ever had taken with Elle…”

“I know you guys were- close.” You didn’t ask your previous question again, sensing that it was still too much to talk about in specifics. What he was telling you right now was even more than what he told you, only telling you that she was his first, everything. Any supplemental information was from talking discreetly to JJ about it one night because you were somewhat curious.

Tiptoeing around the relationship you knew that they had previously was like walking through a minefield. You tried the best that you could to avoid making him too upset. When you got him to open up, it wasn’t by forcing him to talk all at once. Busting the wall down was done brick by brick, not all at once.

“I’m glad you aren’t jealous of her.” His comment was said with less sadness than before. It was nice to see a glimpse of the weight coming off of his shoulders, even if it was just for a moment.

“What? Do you want me to be jealous of her?” You teased, lightheartedly so he wouldn’t dwell on the sad aspect of their past relationship. He smiled softly which deepened when you playfully stuck your tongue out and crossed your arms.

“No- you’ve got nothing to be jealous about…” Any playfulness in his voice was erased as his sentence trailed off. You didn’t say anything for a moment in case he wanted to continue his thought. And, after a moment of silence he did, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left…”

“I know- I was just joking about being jealous. I know how much she meant to you…” His eyes moved away from you, at first you thought it might be because he was still feeling the pain of losing her all those years ago. But, there was something else in his eyes, it naturally made you curious, “What are you thinking about?”

“If you were jealous- what would you have done?” His mind must have shifted away from thinking about the ending of his memories with Elle, which was a step in the right direction. At least he wasn’t avoiding the topic all together, he was still talking about her in a sense.

You bit your lip, thinking about what direction you could take this in. You weren’t going to lie, your mind had gone straight into the gutter at his suggestion and by the look on Spencer’s face so had his.

“Hmmm…” You pretended to ponder while you moved from where you were sitting on the couch to sit on something better, Spencer’s lap. Straddling him then with ease you looked down at his face tracing his cheeks with your fingers. His pupils were blown wide now, almost completely devouring his iris that had become a small ring. He didn’t say anything yet, waiting for you to continue your thought obediently, “I think I would do things to you that I suspect she never did.”

He gulped hard, hard enough that you could hear it. You continued to trace your fingers along his face, sometimes picking a lock of his hair to twirl, waiting for him to say something else like you knew he wanted to. It only took a few more seconds of your touches and your eyes staring into his own before he asked, “C-Can you show me?”

You stopped your movements, pausing for dramatic effect before crushing his lips onto your own. He squared into your mouth at first, clearly taken off guard by your sudden kiss. Before he had processed what was going on enough to let you, you forced your tongue into his mouth, earning you a delicious moan from him.

When you moved again suddenly, separating your mouth with his for just a moment, he tried to chase your lips. Pushing a finger to his lips you then used that to push him back into the couch, then answering his question, “Gladly.”

You kept your finger on his mouth to seal them shut. He could have opened it easily to respond to you, but he wanted to see what you might do next.

Instead of going back to kissing him you started to pull his belt off of him. It was difficult with one hand, taking much longer than it would be with two. But, you still kept your finger rested in the position most people use to shush someone.

Once the belt had finally been pulled from the belt loops of his slacks you finally removed your finger from his mouth. He still remained quiet, his eyes following your every move intently. You then went to work, pinning his hands above his head, then beginning to restrain them with his belt.

“Did she do this to you?” Goading him while you looped the belt around his hands. You made sure to go as slow as possible while you restrained him just to make it last longer until you gave him what he wanted. You even began to grind down on his cock a little bit, it obviously ached to be free from its confines in his trousers by how strained the slacks were getting.

“No!” His voice was broken and breathy, exactly how you wanted it as you tightened the belt around his hand a little more.

Once you were satisfied that the belt was tight enough you got off of him to remove the shorts you had been wearing, along with the rest of your clothes. Normally when you were naked and Spencer was clothed it would be when you were underneath him as a sort of power play. In this position, where he couldn’t move without fear of consequences while you restraddled him completely naked was almost even more empowering.

To play with the dynamic even more you had him remain confined in his slacks for a while longer, while you touched yourself. You were already quite wet from seeing Spencer in this position and exerting that power by pumping your fingers in you while he could do nothing had you dripping onto his slacks.

Spencer’s jaw had gone slack while watching you moan above him, completely speechless from your actions. It was almost comical and entirely too easy to tease him about, “Close your mouth you might catch flies.” His mouth clenched shut at that. It soon fell slack again at your next words while you brought yourself closer to the edge with your fingers, “What? Did she never do this for you?”

All Spencer could do was sit there and take it, shaking his head side to side, only a little so he could keep his eyes on you. You decided to be merciful, pulling your fingers out of you just before you orgasmed. You wanted to finish at the same time as him anyway.

Finally, you pulled his aching cock out of his slacks. It was throbbing in your hand as you spread your wetness with the fingers that had been inside you. Because you had edged yourself earlier, you couldn’t take teasing him any longer. You lined the head of his cock that was red and weeping up to your entrance, sinking down as fast as you could take him. While you sunk down you rubbed your clit in slow circles, not enough to make you orgasm, but enough to make it easier to take him.

Once you had fully taken him you wasted no time, immediately beginning to build up a fast pace. And, of course you couldn’t help but goad him again,

“Did she make you feel this good?” Your pace you had chosen was rough, bouncing and rolling your hips with reckless abandon while he had to take it without being able to move. He could have thrusted up into you even without the use of his hands, but he had one too many of your punishments in the past to be willing to break the rules so explicitly. Now if he ever broke the rules now it was him subtly bending them. Though, you could tell by the way his eyes rolled back into his head that he had no intention of doing that tonight. It felt too good to be used like this by you.

He still had not answered you though, not on purpose, but you still needed an answer. Tapping his cheek a few times, just hard enough to get his attention. It caused him to whine, but he still didn’t give you an answer. Since that didn’t work you decided to ask again, “I asked you a question. Did she make you feel this good? Did she use you like this?”

To add an extra edge to your words filled with a deadly tone you reached one of your hands forward to grasp around his neck. To make him look at you directly you forcefully tilted his neck, eyes once again trained on yours. He finally found it in himself to answer, “It felt good with her, but it feels best with you! I love you!”

“Good.” You simply stated and dropped your hold on his neck so you could return it to its place on his chest, using it as leverage to help you continue your fast pace. Your orgasm was fast approaching, his cock hitting you in the perfect spot, all you needed was a bit more stimulation. When you brought your hand down to run fast circles onto your clit, you soon fell apart above him. Spencer couldn’t help but look up at you in awe, speechless at how beautiful you look while you writhed on top of him.

Your own release pushed Spencer close to the edge and he started to beg, “I’m gonna cum! Please, can I?”

His hands had tightened into fists above him, knuckles going white over the effort of keeping them right where you had placed them originally. You were pleased with the way he had begged, glad that he had asked permission before even thinking about cumming. You still left him in suspense for a bit longer as you continued to work yourself on his painfully hard cock. Pressing a few kisses to his exposed skin under his collar was admittedly just to torture him a bit longer before you finally gave the command.

“Cum for me then.” Spencer followed your command eagerly, taking only two more of you bouncing on top of him to release inside you with a groan. While he rode out his release his lips captured around one of your pebbled peaks, sucking hard to get one last moan out of you.

Slumping forward after you had both finished and you had taken the belt off his wrists with the promise you’d lotion them up after you cuddled. You rested your head on his shoulder, wanting to stay as close as possible for a little while longer. He started tracing his fingers up and down your spine, relaxing you even further, almost to the point of falling asleep.

Before your eyes closed shut in post coital sleepiness your mind wandered a bit back to Elle. Elle had been an important figure in his life, his first real connection with someone special. Sure you teased about being jealous, but you thought it was important to tell him that you were ok with him thinking back on her. You knew he loved you. It most likely would take time till he was able to think or talk about her without a sharp pain in his chest, reminding him of how it all ended.

He hadn’t told you exactly what had happened, but it wasn’t hard to fill in all of the gaps. You turned your head, eyelashes fluttering when you nuzzled into his hair. Then you spoke quietly just enough so the sound could travel the short distance to his ear, “You should frame the picture, you look cute in it. And, I meant to say it earlier, I love you too.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie

Sub Spencer: @thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @calm-and-doctor @princesssmooshie

[mandoalorian]

Like Father, Like Daughter [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Summary: A 4 a.m. fiasco in which your newborn daughter wakes up the entire Lord homestead.

Word Count: 2800>

Rating: PG

Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff. Just a newborn baby that won’t settle, a big brother who wants to protect his younger sibling at all costs, and pure familial love. ALSO LADY LORD THE CAT MAKES A RETURN… She's the real trouble maker of the family.

Author’s note: This is SO self indulgent. I cannot stress that enough. I was clearing out my ask inbox and one of the most common requests I get is a) more Lord family and b) more Soft!Max... so here we are.

Masterlist

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

No matter what, she just didn’t settle. It was three in the morning and you’d put her back down to bed only twenty minutes ago. Just as you managed to close your eyes and feel yourself begin to fall back to sleep, her cries erupted once more and echoed throughout the house. You had no idea how Maxwell could sleep through it. He was a heavy sleeper, and although he made you promise to wake him when you needed him to take over with the newborn, you couldn’t bear to. He was so busy with work and his career, the last thing he needed was to be up all night with little Aurora.

In practically every way possible, Aurora Lorenzano was like her father. It was funny, really. She was only three weeks old but you could already see the same mannerisms in her, that you did Max. She made a habit of shaking her fists or pointing her little tiny finger at you when she wanted something. She was loud, always wanting to make her voice heard. Her big brown eyes sparkled like starlight and you always wondered how you managed to create something so beautiful. She was a product of you and Maxwell and you swore that you had never loved anything as much as you loved her.

You rolled over and groaned into your pillow as you heard her scream with anguish. You were exhausted, and completely at a loss. You’d held her, fed her, changed her diaper -- what more could she want? You couldn’t remember the last time you got more than an hours worth of sleep, and even then it was broken up into intervals. You looked over at Max who was sleeping next to you, his chest rising and falling with every soft breath he took. And you envied him. This was ridiculous. Just for once you wanted to sleep. Just once.

“Max,” you said, prodding your index finger into his bicep. He didn’t move an inch. “Max,” you said again, a little louder this time, but even Aurora’s wails were overpowering the sound of your voice. You said his name a few more times but he didn’t even stir.

You sighed, climbing on top of your boyfriend and straddling his hips. You leaned over him and clasped his cheeks, squeezing them together. “Maxwell Lord!” you shouted in his face, and watched as his eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. His sudden movement knocked you backwards slightly but you couldn’t help but laugh at the way you had shocked him into waking up.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed, rubbing his tired eyes and shooting you a joking glare. “Why are you on top of me?” His gaze flicked from your face, down to your body, and his confused glance turning into something a little more sultry. He snaked his arms around your waist and gave your hip a playful squeeze. “You do know Aurora is crying, don’t you?” he quizzed, with an eyebrow quirked. You had to hold back from punching him.

“I know she’s crying, dumbass,” you spat back, rolling off Max and dramatically throwing the pillow over your face. “Please, please can you check on her? She’s fine. I know she’s fine. I’ve checked on her five times already tonight. But she just-- she won’t stop-- and I don’t--”

Sensing the way you were getting worked up, Max tore the pillow from your face and shushed you. He pressed a soft yet chaste kiss to your forehead. “Say no more, I’m on it.” he whispered, rolling out of bed.

You watched Max grab his robe and shuffle into his slippers as he padded out of your shared bedroom. Well, you were awake now. You sighed and closed your eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could earn a few more hours of deserved sleep.

Maxwell flicked on the amber night light in Aurora’s nursery, the dim embers burning bright enough to force Max adjust his eyesight in the darkness. “Hey hey baby girl,” he cooed, rubbing his tired eyes again and running a hand through his dark blonde hair. He peered over the side of the crib and his heart ached when he caught sight of his daughter, all snotty and teary eyed. “What are you crying for, huh? Why is my little princess crying?” he asked Aurora, using his thumb to wipe away some of her tears. She sniffled slightly, her eyes fixating on her father. “Tell daddy what’s wrong, and I promise you I’ll fix it. What do you need, hm?”

You could hear Maxwell talking to Aurora, ever so faintly. His voice always soothed you, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise to find it settling her as well. You smiled to yourself, counting your blessings. You had gotten so lucky with your little family.

Aurora made grabby fists and reached out to Maxwell, her big eyes glimmering with desire.

“Oh,” Maxwell hummed, catching her message almost immediately. He reached into the crib and picked up Aurora, nursing her in his warm arms. “You wanted to be held by daddy. Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Aurora scowled and Max pinched her cheek. “Listen to me, my little princess. Your mommy does everything in her power to take care of you and protect you. We love you so much, but, you keep her awake all night. So let’s make a deal, okay Aurora? Let’s agree that from now on, you only wake up mommy once a night. If that. Can you do that for me?”

Aurora’s scowl deepened and she furrowed her eyebrows together.

“Don’t pull faces at me, young lady,” Maxwell chastised. Aurora’s face softened and she squeezed Max’s thumb. He couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, good. I knew you’d understand. See, me and you are on the same wavelength. We get each other.”

Aurora’s lips curled into a smile that matched her father’s, and Max continued to smooth out her hair. You had overheard that part of the conversation, and you wished that you could’ve only been there to witness the interaction. Maxwell made a habit of talking ‘business’ with Aurora. It was funny, but in a strange way, it was like she understood him.

Now that the crying had stopped, you figured you could at least try and fall asleep.

“Daddy?”

Maxwell crooked his head slightly and looked over at the nursery door, where his six year old son, Alistair was standing. “Hey buddy,” Maxwell said quietly, ushering Alistair to come over. “Why are you awake?”

“Aurora was crying,” Alistair mumbled, dragging his comfort blanket and one of his soft toys further into the nursery. “I brought her my comforter and my Ewok.”

“Your what--?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“My Ewok.” Alistair repeated, offering no further explanation.

“Well Ali, that’s very thoughtful. Why don’t you put your… Ewok in her crib, and pass me your comforter. We can wrap her in it,” Maxwell instructed, and Alistair obliged. “Why don’t you wrap the blanket around her, hm? But be careful.”

Max lifted up Aurora ever so slightly so Alistair could fit the blanket around her tiny body. “I think she likes it.” Alistair grinned, completely chuffed with himself, and Max nodded his head in affirmation.

“She does,” he smiled, squeezing his son’s shoulder so he knew that his father was proud. “Now she knows her big brother will always look out for her.”

“I will daddy, I promise.”

The two boys spent a few minutes in comfortable silence, gushing and fussing over Aurora.

“Why was sissy crying? Is she alright?” Alistair pondered out loud, the concern clear in his voice.

“Yeah, of course, she’s fine. Look, sometimes we just need to be held. We just need to know that there’s someone out there watching over us. And that everything will be okay.” Max said softly, tracing his finger along Aurora’s delicate face. Alistair stayed quiet for a moment as he took in his father’s words. That feeling resonated with Alistair all too well. He knew what it felt like to yearn for the attention of a parent. And Maxwell understood it too. He had an awful relationship with his own father, which is why he swore to be the absolute best for his son and daughter. “Ali, could you do me a favour?” Max questioned, eventually breaking the silence.

“Yes.”

“Could you quietly go check on mommy and see if she’s sleeping?”

Alistair nodded and tip-toed out of the nursery and into your bedroom. Low and behold, you were finally sleeping. Alistair got a little too close to you, and pushed your hair out of your face so he could check to see if your eyes were closed. His brash movement (even though he’d tried his hardest to be gentle) woke you up. Alistair gasped when he saw what he’d done and smacked his hand over his mouth in disbelief.

“Oh no, were you asleep?” Alistair questioned, his dark eyes going wide. You yawned and nodded your head. “Did I wake you?”

You offered him a tired smile and pulled him into the bed so he could curl up next to you. “It’s okay Ali. Did Aurora wake you up too?”

“Yeah.” Alistair mumbled tiredly, nuzzling into your chest for comfort. He was immediately put at ease in your arms.

He’d never had a relationship like this with his biological mother, no matter how much he’d wished for it. But now he finally had you. You loved Alistair like he was your own blood and you treated him as your own since day one. You loved him unconditionally, just as much as you loved Aurora. Alistair was so thankful to have someone like you in his life and your bond with him was unbreakable. Maybe wishes could come true.

“She’s a little trouble maker.” you yawned and Alistair stifled a giggle.

“Like daddy.” he muttered and you grinned.

“Exactly. Just like daddy.”

After a few intimate moments alone with Aurora, Maxwell stood up. She’d settled down a lot and had even fallen asleep in his arms. Max didn’t want to put her down to bed though, at least, not yet.

Maybe he could bring her to bed. That would be nice.

Cradling Aurora, he carefully stood up from the oak wood rocking chair and padded out of the nursery, only to hear a series of thumping footsteps venture up the stairs.

Oh no.

The jingle of her pretty pink collar was unmistakable, as the fluffy white cat, Lady Lord, came bouncing up the staircase. She purred and circled around Max’s feet, rubbing her soft cheeks over his legs.

“What do you want?” Maxwell asked, glaring down at the kitty.

Lady just looked up at him and meow’ed, her blue eyes wide and awake. If she wanted anything, it was to be fed. She loved her biscuits.

“Lady, it’s almost four in the morning. You’ll have to wait until breakfast.”

She meow’ed again, this time louder, and followed Max by his heels as he walked along the corridor.

“I don’t care, Lady,” Max sighed. “We fed you before we went to bed and you’ll get something in a few hours. I’m not feeding you now.”

Maxwell swore this cat was like having a third child.

Lady wailed and raced past Maxwell once she sensed he was heading to his bedroom. Lady Lord jumped onto the bottom of the bed, by your feet, and curled up. She looked like a snowball.

You smiled to yourself as you heard Max approach. He tilted his head and frowned when he entered the bedroom and noticed you were still awake. His frown deepened when he saw that Alistair was laying next to you.

“I thought he’d gone to bed,” Max confessed, gently passing you Aurora so you could hold her while he discarded his slippers and robe. You smoothed out Alistair’s dark hair and watched him as he slept peacefully by your side. “And why are you still awake?” Max questioned.

“I was listening to the conversation you were having with your business associate-- I mean, your daughter.” you joked and Maxwell rolled his eyes, sliding under the covers. He took Aurora from your arms so he could nurse her again.

“She gets me.” Max assured you and you had to stifle back a laugh. You leaned your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder and looked down at the newborn.

“That’s great honey, but if her first words end up being ‘Life is good, but it can be better’, I’ll not be happy.” you quipped and Maxwell smirked.

In this precise moment, Maxwell swore that he had never been happier. He spent much of his life believing money and materials would satisfy him, but he was still left with an empty, gaping hole in his heart. He always wanted more, he wanted to try and somehow fill that void, but he just didn’t know what to look for. He was never searching for love, and yet you still found him. And you filled that hole in his heart. You completed him, and made him into a better man. He could never fault you for that, and he’d always be grateful for everything you did for him. Everyday that was spent with you and his growing family was a day well spent.

If he could change one thing, it would be that he realised this sooner. But you taught him that he shouldn’t regret anything. Yes, he had made mistakes, but so does everyone, and that doesn’t make him any less of a person. What inspired you the most about Max was that he consistently worked on himself and tried to better himself for his family. And you saw his progress every single day.

“Do you want me to take Ali to bed?” Max asked, kissing your shoulder softly.

“No, he’s fine here,” you replied quietly, feeling the utmost contentment with your family being by your side. “This bed can easily fit five people.” you acknowledged.

Maxwell’s eyes went comically wide at your comment. “Five?!” he wheezed, and you pointed your finger down towards the edge of the bed where Lady was sleeping. Max hadn't even noticed her joining. Clearly, it was a family event, at 4am in his bed. “She follows me everywhere!” Max exclaimed incredulously, shaking his head and scratching the back of his neck. Lady opened her eyes and glanced up at Max, recognising the mention of her.

“She loves you.” you cooed.

“She’s annoying.” Maxwell frowned, but you knew, deep down, he adored that cat. He had never been an animal person, and he wouldn’t have adopted Lady if it wasn’t for you, but he truly did love her. She was loyal and compassionate and despite the trail of cat hairs she left all over his three piece power suits, he wouldn’t trade her for the world.

“And you love her too.” you corrected him.

Max sighed and shook his head in defeat before returning to his previous statement. “You know, this bed might actually be able to fit more than five people. Maybe six. Or seven…” he trailed off, his free hand caressing your thigh as he sized up the double king-sized bed.

He wasn’t subtle. You could read him like an open book. You knew exactly what he was implying.

Your jaw dropped and you looked up at him with wide eyes. Max’s smirk only grew upon seeing your reaction. “Wait… are you saying we can get more cats?!”

And just like that, his smirk fell from his lips. “I--”

“Oh my gosh Maxie!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him. Maxwell blinked as he tried to process what just happened.

“I didn’t mean--”

“How long had you been planning this?” Teasing Max Lord might have been one of your most favourite hobbies. If only you could snap a photo of his face at this very moment.

He said your name, slowly and looked slightly disconcerted.

You grinned and cupped his cheek. “I know,” you laughed. “I know what you meant.”

A brief silence filled the room.

“I do like cats…” Max told you eventually. You leaned over him and turned off his bedside lamp.

“Mhm…” you mumbled, rolling over so you were snuggling into him. He was still on his back, nursing Aurora.

“I’m just saying…” he trailed off, staring at the ceiling. “I think we’re pretty good at this parenting thing. And I like… having kids with you…”

You smiled in the darkness.

“Go to sleep Maxie.” you whispered.

“I just think--”

“Go to sleep.” you giggled, and you felt him press a kiss into your hair.

“Goodnight,” he uttered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[billylenzstolemyphone]

could we have some domestic lokius headcanons? I love all of your lokius stuff so far <3

of course, anon!! thank you so much for the ask <3 you guys are about to be fed jskjdsjh

- after the tva, mobius and loki decided to settle down somewhere by the beach. they own a jet ski bc loki said 'fuck it, i love mobius i'll just get him the damn water bike' and mobius treasures it so much. loki sometimes gets jealous and moody because mobius is "paying more attention to the jet ski than him" and mobius thinks its the cutest thing. they do the cliche couple thing of walking on the beach at sunset or early morning, star gazing and coming up with funny names for each constellation they see, laughing and pushing one another into the water when the other isn't looking (honestly mobius does this more he just loves the look on lokis face, calling him a little pussycat bc ghhhahaahgaahgggbrhbgfrhs)

- loki has fallen off the jet ski at least twice. the first time it happened he was terrified and splashing around everywhere but then mobius came back to him and pulled him up on it again laughing because "baby, you know you can stand in this water right?" loki was embarrassed but tried to cover it by mumbling childish insults towards mobius who just kept smiling at him. the second time it happened, which loki swears to this day that it was mobius' fault, mobius and loki were on the jet ski ready to go but mobius didn't warn loki about when he was gonna start it so he just went off while loki was turned around looking at something and mobius lost it when loki yelped and flew off the back. he was once again pouting with his arms crossed because, yes, he still thinks its intimidating but mobius only pouted back and awed mockingly which broke loki so now theyre both laughing.

- mobius loves to wake up before loki, to pull him closer and rest his chin atop of his head which is nuzzled into mobius' neck. their legs tangled underneath the sheets except for one of lokis which is splayed across mobius' sort of like a koala. mobius plays with lokis hair gently as to not wake him up, they hardly have any plans ever so they sleep in most days. loki will sometimes hum contently at the feeling and nuzzle even closer to mobius, if thats possible. mobius smiles at him, letting his eyes close once again as the feeling of sleep takes over. mobius wakes up a few hours later to an empty bed, but he knows that lokis in the kitchen from the soft humming coming through the open bedroom door. he stretches and gets up, pulling on a random t-shirt and sweatpants. when he enters the kitchen, as always his heart is filled with pure love and adoration for loki, who is sitting in one of the kitchen chairs holding a cup of tea (lokis never really been a coffee guy) and staring out the window. the light coming through cascades beautifully across lokis features and mobius still wonders how he landed the god, dressed only in green boxers and a black shirt but he still looks ethereal. mobius will come over, slightly startling loki who smiles eagerly when mobius compliments his hair which is tied up into a messy bun, strands of black wavy hair framing his face. mobius will make coffee for himself, and sit down next to loki. they go about their routine, which never ever gets old for them because its enough for them. its perfect. they sit and talk, sometimes they sit in silence, just basking in the presence of one another before they come up with something to do for the day.

ahhh i hope those are good!! i have a lot more but at the moment im a little busy so thats about all i can write :( im sorry!! thank you again, anon!! i love you mwah <3 feel free to spam my inbox guys i love talking with you all :)

[creativeashproductions]

Curiosity // Luke Patterson

Summary: After filling up another journal designed his songbook Luke is left empty handed. With the offer to a shelf of blanket journals is given he’s immediately choosing. But Luke’s curiosity leads him to a discovery. In other words Luke finds Perfect Harmony in Reader’s bedroom.

Requested: Yes by @averyharrypotterlife​ 

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.7 (including lyrics)

A/N: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the 5000+ followers whether it was years ago and you didn’t unfollow or in the future. Thank you for enjoying and interacting in something I’ve always loved: writing.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Luke’s always been a curious person going as far back as his early childhood. The most consistent evidence being during the Christmas holidays. Until he was ten, yes, he’s aware that his friends stopped believing in Santa way earlier. The young lad would stay up hidden in the living room waiting to catch Santa. Without fail, Luke would wake up in his outer space planet sheets having fallen asleep in his mission.

When he was twelve years old, he was left at his aunt and uncle’s house for the weekend due to a work-related thing. His older cousin was eighteen at the time and at college, so Luke stayed in his bedroom. Luke couldn’t help but snoop through Bryan’s personal items, and in a drawer with a false bottom, he discovered magazines.

Luke had a lot of fun that weekend diligently going through the magazines his mother would skin his hide even knowing about them. He may have had to use the excuse of having a cold for the entire box of Kleenex missing. No one was the wiser on that weekend.

Now when Luke was fourteen years old, he had snuck into the Rated R film Candyman with Alex and Reggie. Luke’s parents had been strict in their rules and definitely had shot down the question of seeing the film. The three didn’t sleep with the lights out for a month after that, and the truth came out when no lie was sufficient to their concerned parents.

Luke Patterson didn’t care about boundaries. Why ask for permission when you can just ask for forgiveness? It worked with going through Julie’s dream box, but all personal items got hidden from the ghostly guitarist.

“No!” Luke exclaimed flipping through his song journal once more in hopes of a blank page. The frustration in his body snapping the pencil he had been using.

“You good?” You questioned glancing up from the essay you graded as a teacher’s assistant for an AP course. Luke’s frustrated brown met yours with a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ve filled my journal up. I hate using loose-leaf, but no money means no buying things.” Luke roughly scrubbed one hand on his face.

“You could always just forever borrow one from the- “Luke quickly shot that down with a look of absolute horror, “Okay…so stealing a no.”

“I did listen to my parents on certain aspects. I would never steal anything, other than the food when we didn’t have enough cash.” Luke’s brown hue had softened back into the hazel that caused flutters in your heart, “I have no respect for thieves.”

You nodded before scribbling a suggestion on the paper in dark red, “I have a shelf in my room dedicated solely to blank journals. If you want to, you can take one free of charge.”

With a quick smile, Luke disappeared from the room to your personal domain he sometimes hung out with you in. You had no misgivings on the teen finding solace in your room and gave him free rein; your prized possessions hidden very well.

Luke appeared in the soft blue and lilac bedroom with the queen white iron wrought style bed in the middle. A white desk in the corner with a multitude of bookcases and shelves in the room. The desk chair neatly pushed into the desk as well he went straight to the shelf.

Journals of all colours and styles with a label on the shelf noting them as empty. It was packed with dozens, but it was the midnight blue one that called to the boy. In his reach, he bumped an emerald green one off the edge. It opened having hit the edge of the desk.

As he leaned down, he noticed notations in the margins, now remember how Luke is a curious guy? He only hesitated a second before he was reading the pages of words in your signature script.

The guilt flared for a second before he justified it as being on the shelf you declared free game. So Luke settled sitting criss-cross against the side of your bed reading the words so eloquently written. Even notes allowed Luke to hear the melody in his mind.

Assignment: Write a piece of literature from two points of views. Genre doesn’t matter as long as it is a minimum of one page and not exceed eight.

Step into my world

Bittersweet love story ’bout a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel

I’ve never heard before

The words took his breath away, recalling a moment he gushed to Alex on how he had caught you singing. He had described your voice as being angelic, and it took him by complete surprise. He remembered Julie, and you entered the room shortly after with a nervous feeling if you had heard. Now Luke had his answer. His phantom heart pounded in anticipation for the reply to this first point of view.

Here in front of me

They’re shining so much brighter

Than I have ever seen

Life can be so mean

But when he goes, I know he doesn’t leave

The smile threatened to split his face with the elation as he continued reading with a subconscious hum. His fingers tapping the sides of the paper as his hazel irises tinged green ate up the words.

The truth is finally breaking through

Two worlds collide when I’m with you

Our voices rise and soar so high

We come to life when we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

The world faded as Luke distinctly heard your angelic voice singing the parts he could easily recognize as perfect for you. There was something so powerful in this incredibly personal song only intended for your eyes and your teachers.

The next handful of lines left him breathless and astonished as he visualized not sitting across from each other. But engaging in another art form that can be so incredibly intimate for people; he imagined singing this while holding you in his arms.

You set me free

You and me together is more than chemistry

Love me as I am

I’ll hold your music here inside my hands

We say we’re friends, we play pretend

You’re more to me, we’re everything

Our voices rise and soar so high

 We come to life when we’re

 In perfect harmony

 Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

 Perfect harmony

 Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

 Perfect harmony

Luke went from humming to softly singing to the heartfelt tune with a flutter of butterflies deep in his stomach. When Julie saw Unsaid Emily, he had denied it as an experiment, and it was the truth. Luke wrote rock anthems and rock-pop with his living friend. He never dabbled into romantic ones.

He’d never read something so poetically beautiful it felt him weeping at the sheer amount of feelings.

I feel your rhythm in my heart

Yeah yeah yeah

You are my brightest burning star

Whoah whoah oh

I never knew a love so real (so real)

We’re heaven on earth

Melody and words

When we’re together we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

We say we’re friends (we play pretend)

You’re more to me (we create)

Perfect harmony

His eyes found the last line of the song setting him back in a dead silence returning to the start to reread it. On his third read, he found the notes from your teacher on a separate page.

Y/N, in my years of teaching, I’ve never read something with such meaning behind it. The longing, passion, respect and love you artfully encapsulated is rare. To have written, this means you’ve felt this. No corrects needed, and I felt compelled to not mark on the piece. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, for letting me step inside your mind and please never let this emotion fade.

Your grade is A+.

Luke’s lips pulled apart at the genuine words your teacher had written because it indeed was a word of art. Carefully Luke returned the notebook back to the shelf to retrieve the blue one that caught his attention. AS he turned, he found you leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“I am so sor-“

“No.” You replied, walking into the room, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I told you any notebook on that shelf. I can’t get mad, and I’ve seen you can’t leave something half-read.”

“Probably why my book reports were insanely well done in school.” Luke joked as you stepped in his personal space. The tension faded from his shoulders as he took in your features, “You got a perfect grade.”

“I did.” You simply spoke, staring up into his eyes, “You helped me with it.”

“How?”

“You told Alex what you felt about my voice. You looked nervous when I walked in, so I let it go. It wasn’t the time to bring it up. It’s called Perfect Harmony.” You told the ghost gently grazing your fingertips on his hand. The feeling sends shudders down his spine.

“I guess it just wasn’t the right time. With the band and-“

“-the whole soul owning thing. Too much but now that you’ve read that…what do you feel?” You hesitantly asked because reading it and discovering how someone feels is another to if the feelings are reciprocated back.

“That I was always meant to live in 2020. That I was meant to love you with every atom in my very being.” Luke murmured before he crashed his lips onto your own in a searing kiss that had your toe-curling.

The midnight blue journal dropped to the floor as his large calloused hands cupped your face to feel the warmth. The very journal would be filled with songs all about this person, Luke adored not matter his state as a ghost. Two worlds collided just as two souls came together in perfect harmony.

So, wrapped up in each other Luke didn’t notice something magical encased in the warm love. In the bedroom, the two teens were kissing in had two distinct heartbeats with a glow emanating from Luke Patterson.

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[howdoyousleep3]

Miss k hiiiiiiii hello hey 💜💜💜💜 I love your daddies so much they give me the most life ahhhh

so okay I’m a good lil southern girl although I moved away from the south and sometimes I like to let my redneck side come out and today is one of those times 😭 Im outside drinking shitty beer and listening to some old country music and uh I’m havin thots

I just wondered if you ever thought about a real country daddy steve and baby Bucky and what that might be like 😅🥵 like are they both down home country boys? Or does country boy (cowboy also acceptable) daddy steve show city baby boy a good ol country time or 🤤🤤 anyways idk if this will even tickle your fancy but like just know your daddies and babies live rent free in my head and even if you never imagine them as little country boys I doooooo okay bye ily

Ohhhhh, babey! You’re takin’ me back. Y’all know I grew up on a farm and in the country, sheesh. I have a super fucking weak and awful spot for someone that is country country, little southern garbage, ahaha. Give me the bonfires and the PBR (before it became cool and expensive?? I am beside myself lol) and the driving on backroads and giggin’ and those awful flannels with the sleeves cut off and driving way too fast down dirt roads.

Okay for full effect do listen to Big City by Merle Haggard. 🥰

I’ve thought about this kinda AU with Steve and Bucky so much. Like…so much and in all kinds of ways. It more than tickles my fancy, pumpkin. I’ve thought all about a City Boy Bucky rolling through a townsy bar on a Friday night and finding him a big ‘ol Farm Boy Steve and the two of them just falling head over ass for each other. Steve’s never seen anyone that resembles an angel on Earth until he sees those eyes and those lips upturned towards him. And Steve is everything Bucky never knew he could like, beard thick but not as thicc as those thighs and that ass, not donned in tailored suit pants, laugh boisterous, personality taking up as much space as his body does.

I’ve thought about Steve taking Bucky down by the river, teaching him how to catch a catfish with his bare hands, how to bait a hook, how to jump from the rope swing perfectly. I’ve thought about Steve teaching him how to shotgun a beer, how sweet his mama would be on Bucky and her teaching him how to make the perfect peach cobbler from scratch. I squeal inside when I think about Steve sitting there at the kitchen table watching his mama and the boy he’s sure he’s fallen in love with work together beautifully, the dopey look on his face when he takes a bite of Bucky’s warm cobbler and makes a surely inappropriate noise.

“Marry me, darlin’,” he’d joke with an underlying seriousness only he is aware of, and Bucky blushes up a storm, stammers. Steve is left with no choice but to pull Bucky into his lap and kiss him loudly on the cheek before finishing his helping and asking sweetly for another.

I’ve imagined the way they’d dance at the bar to Just Got Started Lovin’ On You, how close they’d be, all lined up together and Bucky moving so gorgeously and easily with Steve’s lead, the two of them looking so disgustingly in love. I’ve thought about the look of pride on Steve’s face when Bucky drinks a heckler right under the table, tequila simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever run through Bucky’s veins. Steve would stop Bucky from getting into a fight not shortly after his competitor concedes, wrapping Bucky up in two strong arms, mouth at his ear, eyes ablaze and wordlessly telling the other man to fuck right off or he’ll let this kitten go.

I’ve thought all about Bucky pushing at Steve, shouting about how he can walk to the truck, and then how he’d damn near topple over on his baby deer legs.

“You done bein’ a brat?” Steve would ask him.

“No. M’grown,” Bucky would huff as Steve wraps an arm around his waist and then picks him up under his knees anyway. Bucky biting him on the jaw for being right.

I’ve pictured Bucky reading to Steve out loud as they lay under a tree, sun high in the sky, hand knocking Steve’s hat off his head and playing with his hair as his head rests in Bucky’s lap. I’ve thought about Bucky explaining city life to Steve, the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple and how tall the buildings are and the job Bucky left behind. I’ve thought about the first time they fight, Steve getting up in his feels about how perfect and smart Bucky is and how he doesn’t deserve to be here with some country bumkin like him.

I’ve imagined how much it tears Steve up, seeing his sassy Buckaroo spittin’ and cryin’ because of him, how he’d let Bucky get in his face with a pointed finger and tell Steve that he better take his words back or else. He’d grab for and hold onto Bucky as he tries to run out of the kitchen and into the yard after Steve says he can’t take them back though, unable to watch Bucky leave.

(For full effect, make sure you do not listen to “Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain” by Willie Nelson, don’t do it, don’t)

I’ve imagined how their makeup sex has them both damn near in tears, how lucky Steve feels to be able to feel someone this close to his body and his heart, Bucky the prettiest thing he’s ever seen gasping there underneath him. I’ve imagined the way City Boy Bucky’s bottom lip would tremble, how his hands would run up and through Steve’s hair as he breathes, “I love you so…so much, Steve. Bubba…” right before Farm Boy Steve curses and cries and makes him come.

Oh yeah, I’ve thought all about this shit, my friend. I’ve let it consume me in full on numerous occasions. Maybe it’s because I projected and dreamt up my own little dream, hehe. Thank you for being in my inbox and for letting me pop off! I hope this is what you wanted. Lub you bunches. 💕