#okay sorry the brainrot is real

[lemonfreshlysqueezed]

Gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Qians eyebrow raise!

He does not look disgusted. Dare I say he looks pretty intrigued by the idea 🫣

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

EVERYONE SHUT UP AND LOOK AT HER

okay i know this is a Foul Legacy blog but listen. if anyone wants to ask me questions about Arlecchino and my OC Marine i will be so happy to answer (they are MARRIED and i WILL answer in character if wanted because i'm that obsessed)

[muchmossymess]

It might be the weirdo in me but imagine an anamatic to the song shiny from moana with an evil/antagonist revali as the crab and link trying to recover the master sword as maui and zelda as moana

[mundanemiseries]

Uhhhhh second munday post but….anyway look @ this gemstone i got entirely for n.u c.arnival reasons hshfjg

[murcielagatito]

just wrote the shittiest like 600 word prompt like bitch if i actually wrote this fic i could probably get a couple ks outta it but i suck at this shit so bad

[ferocioustrout]

I do realize how insanely cringe it is to be this level of down bad for a fictional woman but GOD THE THINGS I WOULD DO FOR HER. HER SMILE BRO ❤️😭

[cheemken]

i know you have hau as your alola champion but what would be the champions dynamic in your headcanons if kukui was alola's champion?

Kukui as the Alola Champ,, idk I feel like there'd be a lot of "adults talking" kind of meetings and Iris would probs be excluded to most of em. I mean, then again, Iris is at least in her 20s in my hc, but yknow, there's still that,, generation gap?? I think?? That Iris would feel just a bit excluded and such considering that almost every Champion was older than her

W their dynamics, Steven would be close to him bc of Kukui's main research of Z Crystals, so ofc those two talk abt that nonstop hahah Wallace likes the lil thing they do when activating the Z Crystals tho, and became interested in it as well

Geeta I wanna say is cool w him, Kukui does give her some insights on how to handle kids in school, as he was also a teacher. They talk to each other abt the students they handle, or rather the students close to them and look up to them. Kukui was surprised at least that despite Geeta's demeanour, she was rather nice and soft spoken when it comes to children, as shown when they visited Alola once

Idt Diantha would like him that much idk. I always have this hc that the reason why the Mega Evolution Dex entries in the Alola Dex are like that™ is bc they treat Megas the way they treat Z Moves, like it doesn't need that strong of a bond as Z Crystals only power up certain moves, unlike Megas where they actually change appearance along w the stat buff

And she knows that Kukui is a good man, he treats his Pokémon well, he has such a strong bond w his Incineroar, but he also had that mindset that yeah, Mega is basically just Z Moves but isn't limited to powering up only one move. He's willing to learn abt Megas, ofc he is, but like,, yeah, yknow, he doesn't have a good image for her. I think the difference w him and Hau is that Hau was already taught by Diantha at a young age how different Megas and Z Moves are

Does that bit make sense?? I'm sorry I'm like a bit tired still while typing this but I hope that makes sense hahah

Iris, yeah, idk, I think Iris would look up to him, but at the same time she wished there was another Champion that's closer to her age, the other champions are always so serious, and while Cynthia would hang out w her, it still wasn't the same for her

Ah but the rest of the champions, they're all cool w him hahaha

[r1elle]

desperate male lead syndrome is making a strong comeback in 2024 and i’m here for it!! so i wrote about this annoying loser (your honour i love him so much)

husband atsumu drabble because this is what the people want ^^ (i’m people)

“baby, don’t go looking at yer’ poor husband like that..” atsumu pouts, poking your cheeks at the sight of your evidently disdained face.

okay. you could go do that. you could also just forget the broken ceramic on the floor, still not cleaned up because atsumu would rather make amends with you first than cleaning up the potential risk that was right infront of you both.

honestly, you couldn’t tell whether you should be glad, or concerned.

“i’m not mad at you,’ you say, the expression on your face clearly betraying your words. “don’t worry about it, atsumu.”

you thought that maybe your words would ease the blonde man’s resolve, however it seemed to have only made it worse for him.

“atsumu?! no baby, no love, no ‘tsumu?!” he stresses, hands going up to his mouth.

you stare at his rather dramatic delivery,—and was that the life in his eyes flying away?? he looks like a modern rendition of casper the ghost.

“i’ll do the dishes for a week, no,—a month! i’ll buy ya’ those heels ya’ told me not to buy at the mall!!” atsumu frantically spouts, saying anything he could think of as he continues to cling onto your figure, his face mushing onto your neck and shoulder area.

you shut your eyes. just.. how could you stay annoyed? look at his pouty face, how his ears seemed to be more red than the rest of his skins current complexion. he practically made it impossible for you to even be the least bit mad, and you would’ve felt as guilty as a convict for even attempting to do so. that’s the kind of effect he had on you.

in response, you merely sigh. but there wasn’t any bark to it. “or, you could clean up the shattered pot on the floor.” you say, making sure to bring your tone to a more gentle and reassuring one.

atsumu turns to at you once again, his blonde locks tickling your skin as he moves.

“yer’ not mad anymore?” he beams. “i mean, we could always make another pot, right? how ‘bout it?” he says, hopeful eyes staring directly to your orbs.

in all realness, you genuinely weren’t mad at him, —(as much as he would sulk and say you definitely were), no. you were just sad at the fact that you and atsumu’s ceramic that you both had worked so hard to sculpt and paint on your first date was now shattered on the floor, all but beyond repair.

“i was never mad at you, promise.” you say. “just a bit disappointed. i liked that pot a lot, you know.” your hand reaches for atsumu’s cheek, pinching it slightly. physical touch always seemed to reassure him more than anything else.

atsumu mentally notes that he should make you breakfast in bed the following morning as he stares at your affirming expression. he plants various of pecks on your face after doing so.

“i’m sorry, princess.” atsumu coo’s, his hand pushing away the little hairs on your forehead as he plants a kiss on it.

“i’ll make it up to ya’, i promise.”

— • —

now, you know that you most definitely shouldn’t be all too surprised, considering that, well, —this was miya atsumu we were talking about,

but seriously….

you stare at the little bundle of fur politely sitting on your lap as you rub your eyes, just having come out of your nights sleep. you also happen to notice the smell of pancakes and hot chocolate coming from the bedside table.

“ ‘tsumu, where—?..no, when did you get this dog?”

“i have my ways.” he proudly grins. “but look, it’s yer’ favourite breed!”

“….yes, i know. but where did you—“

“we have a daughter now, hehe.”

“since when did i agre—“

“so adorable, definitely takes after her mommy and daddy. look at the bow on her head!”

“ ‘tsum-“

“i love you.”

“dont change the subject!”

——————————————————————————

atsumu brainrot is real and clocking me out (kageyama i can explain)

update: TYSM for 1k+ notes omg ??!! thank u all for loving this loserboy with me i feel so heard 😢😢🙏🏽

[bbyobbyo]

seventeen as dads headcanons

content: reader is married to svt, normative(?) family structure, literally just unhinged thoughts, not proofread lol

note: was trying to write an actual fic but then got distracted sorry, dadventeen brainrot is so real

Seungcheol

Super protective “don’t touch my family” dad outwardly

All of his kids’ friends are straight up SCARED of him

But within the household he's the one sneaking ice cream when you say no, albeit guiltily

Shopping trips with him will always result in buying something for them and he is very willing to be taken advantage of

“Babe if I can’t spoil them now, they’re gonna grow up and move out before we know it!”

Tries his best to be handy around the house, but probably makes it worse, ends up calling Mingyu to come fix it

Jeonghan

DEFINITELY a “go ask your mom” dad

This man not only powerless, he doesn't even want the power, he's just here to have a good time and if you say they can't, then sorry kiddo

You can’t tell me that he doesn’t bring up becoming a family prank channel at least once a week

LOVES bragging to everyone else about his kid’s achievements, cannot shut up about them to anyone in a 5 foot radius tbh

His kids definitely talk to him about everything, which is great because he is SO nosy.

Has a list of all their best friends, enemies, and crushes at school somewhere on his notes app for future reference when they come to him for advice

Joshua

The REAL practical joke dad, admittedly made them cry a few times when they were younger and felt really bad about it

Perfect sweet husband and father in image, all of his kids know he’s actually lame af

Dominates the summer barbeques, UNDISPUTED GRILLMASTER

Super dependable, will drop everything if his family needs him and never goes back on his word

Gives surprisingly good fashion advice

Jun

Definitely walks around the neighborhood with his baby in a sling carrier strapped to his front, POINTS AT EVERYTHING OF INTEREST

When they start learning how to speak he adopts all his baby’s weird mannerisms (it started off as a cute joke but then realized he couldn’t stop)

Cries at every baby milestone until they’re like 10

Will not stop bringing up embarrassing childhood moments, especially in front of their kids’ friends/significant others

Cuts fruit for them instead of apologizing

Hoshi

Will fully ally himself with his kids

Like legit would do anything for them. ANYTHING.

I’m talking borderline go to his kid's school to beat up their hypothetical bullies himself sort of dad

The kids can always count on him to say yes if you say no

Absolutely DEVASTATED when they grow out of the tiger stuff he buys for them and become angsty teens

“What do you mean tigers aren’t cool? Do you not love your old man anymore?”

Wonwoo

Quiet doting dad

Definitely more affectionate when the kids are younger but gets into the awkward advice-giving stage when they grow up

LAME DAD JOKES GALORE, groaning is a regular activity in this household

Tries to google basic algebra every time his kids ask for help on math homework because he doesn’t want to admit he forgot everything

Chaotic af unsupervised. “Guess we’re having pizza again tonight kiddos” kinda dad because he cannot and should not cook

Jihoon

Another quiet dad, but make it savage

I feel like he would just love roasting his kids (affectionately of course)

And always overwhelmingly acts of service so his kids know they are loved

Allowance randomly appearing under their pillow, their favorite foods magically stocked in the fridge, always relenting to one last bedtime story no matter how tired he is

Would let you have final say but he makes it really clear he’s on their side and empathizes with them but its out of his hands

“Next time just don’t get caught, okay?” *winks*

Minghao

Loves loves loves just spending time with his babies

Doesn’t matter what he’s doing he just wants to be in the same room as them or cuddling and holding them

Emphasizes equality in your relationship so his kids can grow up with those values and learn to respect others

TURNS EVERYTHING INTO A LIFE LESSON OH MY GOD

Doesn’t believe in allowances but will cave and literally buy them anything they want if they ask

Would rather die than miss any important event (competition, speech, recital, talent show, graduation, etc.)

Mingyu

Absolute super dad, what can’t he do? Nonstop home improvement projects, cooks anything his kids are craving, offers to drive everyone everywhere

But also the whiniest dad ever lol constantly complains about people “ruining his system”

Absolutely FUCKS at the school bake sales, earns them twice the target fundraiser amounts because he's dilf material and knows how to get the moms to spill their pockets

Likes to have the final say, but you’re both usually on the same page in regards to discipline so his kids aren’t getting away with anything

Just the most supportive dad in the universe, the kids learn to never take him for granted

Seokmin

You already know his kids are gonna be spoiled rotten. He will be the favorite parent by default sorry I don't make the rules!!

His arms are the very definition of a safe space

Leaves all the discipline to you because he cannot keep a straight face when delivering a lecture (one time he made them cry and also ended up crying because he felt so bad)

Does so much embarrassing shit just to cheer his kids up when they have a bad day, acts surprised when they tell him he's cringe

Such a pushover that they are probably gonna make fun of him when they're older, but that's okay because they know there's no universe in which their dad will stop loving them

Seungkwan

As long as he can pick them up still, his kids are never on the ground for too long

Two words: SPORTS. DAD.

He could practically captain the cheerleading teams at their school with how many events he's been to

Knows all of his kids’ friends parents, they all get together and have coffee once a month actually

Nags nonstop and complains about everything he has to do for them, but is always diligent and does it without question

Gets so pouty when they start getting embarrassed to show affection, he WILL get his cheek kisses if it's the last thing he does!!

Vernon

Chillest dad in existence?!?

Literally as long as his kids are safe he doesn't give a single fuuuuckkk

“Sleepover? Yeah, call me when you're done and I'll pick you up.”

He WILL argue with you if he doesn't think there's a good reason to say no to them

So cute and encouraging to all their weird hobbies and phases throughout the years. “Lemme see” and “Really? Show me” are regular phrases in his vocabulary

His kids are definitely gonna inherit his legendary facial expressions afnngjdg

Chan

Super affectionate and doting, but also quite strict with them at times

“I just want the best for you, I want to see you succeed”

HAS A PHOTO OF THEM READY AT ANY TIME, lockscreen is a different shot of his kids every day and is eager to show it off even if no one asked

Not so subtly signs his kid up for dance lessons

Just the most encouraging dad ever, makes sure that they know making mistakes are a part of life and that he will always love them no matter what

[satellitespinner]

quick streamer!ellie hcs since i see shes popular rn 💕

streamer!ellie who yells at little kids at for its day and night…

streamer!ellie who’s ps4 controller has DENTS in it. DENTS.

streamer!ellie definitely doesn’t get ad opportunities because she can’t stop swearing and making inappropriate jokes

streamer!ellie doesn’t have a lot of followers/fans but like a solid 100k ???? idk what qualifies as a lot..

streamer!ellie fucking hates story games.. i’m sorry but she thinks they’re boring and a waste of time. (she def played spiderman 2 doe :3 )

streamer!ellie is either really nice or really mean to the chat.

SPEAKING OF CHAT. streamer!ellie is the number ONE chat user.

“chat is this real?”

“okay chat…”

“CHAT?”

streamer!ellie is definitely like hansumfella (if you dk him there’s an acc on tiktok called @hansumfellaclips hes pretty funny !) she makes dirty jokes, she’s mean. she dgaf

streamer!ellie invites jesse, you, and dina on stream and it’s so chaotic.

streamer!ellie doesn’t mean to, but she keeps flirting with you on stream. that’s just how you guys are!

“smelliewilliams664 just asked if we could kiss on cam”

“bruh”

streamer!ellie accidentally drops that she is a massive crush on you when you aren’t there

“user1617992 just asked if i had a crush on y/n?”

“ur banned”

streamer!ellie who texts like a 14 year old boy.. what the fuck is a brainrot quiz..

streamer!ellie is such a fucking sweetheart!!! she asked her viewers what she should do to ask you out and they gave her a bunch of ideas!

“wait so flowers and a sign??”

she listened to the chat and let’s just say ellie was one lucky girl!!!

streamer!ellie is LOUD as FUCK. after you guys started dating you frequented her house ALOT. so when she was streaming a lot of the time you were there.

one day when ellie was streaming and the viewers had seen you napping in the background. well a while into the stream ellie had forgotten about you being there.

“for fucks sake!” she screamed, as loud as she fucking could. you wake up and groan her name.

“shut the fuck up” you would whisper, readjust to get comfortable and then just about fall asleep again before she yells again.

“shit!” she yells and slumps down into her chair.

“ellie!” you yell as you sit up, “shut it!” you saw fake aggressively as you toss a pillow her way. she laughs and spins her chair around to face you.

“sorry babe”

[pathologicalreid]

hello my new favorite tumblr writer 😇 i will b honest i have never requested anything before so!! bear with me. however the spencer reid brainrot is all too real SO would you be open to doing anything with a hotchner!fem!reader? bau or not for the reader! something something hotch is very hesitant about their relationship but maybe reader gets caught in the crossfire of something and hotch and prentiss see them together afterward and prentiss is like “that looks pretty real to me.” DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW THANK YOUUUU 🫡

a father's daughter | S.R.

in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

who? spencer reid x hotchner!fem!bau!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, blood, stitches, hospitals, medical inaccuracy word count: 2.03k a/n: anon you are legendary. this is an incredible request and i am so honored to be your new favorite tumblr writer! i am an absolute sucker for anything hotchner!reader (or rossi!reader) so i absolutely ate this request up! (also if anyone wanted to drop a request in my inbox... it would be welcome)

Aaron Hotchner was the most professional person in the BAU, except when it came to you. You, like him, had gone to law school. You were a public defender for just a short time before being put into WITSEC, and when your mother died, you applied to the FBI Academy.

Plain and short, it was nepotism, but no one was going to argue with the man whose wife was murdered by a serial killer. Your dad wanted you in the BAU so he could keep an eye on you, and there was nothing Erin Strauss could do about it. What your father couldn’t control, was your relationship with Reid.

He could tell you that he didn’t approve, but so long as David Rossi, king of inter-bureau mingling, was around, he couldn’t actually do anything to stop you. “I’m just saying that I’ve never seen Reid be consistent with a relationship,” your dad said, having pulled you away from the team to, once again, try to warn you off of your relationship.

“He’s been pretty consistent for the last seven months,” you responded, rifling through the victims' files that were in your arms.

You started to make your way out of the empty office when your father spoke again, “And he’s too old for you.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pivoted and faced your father, “He’s three years older than I am, I’m twenty-six. That’s hardly an age gap to bat an eye at.” The two of you had always had a rocky relationship, he missed a large portion of your childhood due to this job and you always tried to not resent him for it.

Your parents’ marriage fell apart, neither of them handled it well, and you weren’t all that surprised. They had gotten married when your mom got pregnant with you because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, and when Jack couldn’t keep them together, everything fell apart.

“You have no right to lecture me on relationships, Agent Hotchner,” you snapped, staring him down. Daring him to challenge you.

He sighed, obviously trying not to lose his patience with you. “I’d just hate for you to find out you wasted your time on something that wasn’t real.”

The door behind you swung open, you spun on your heels to face Emily. “Sorry, uh, we have a location, Morgan’s coordinating with SWAT,” she said, looking between you and your father.

“Great, let’s go,” your father said, his parental demeanor falling away as his Unit Chief mask took its place.

You walked out the door to see the rest of the team, Rossi tossed you a Kevlar vest as you walked over to where Spencer was standing with the police chief, “Where are we headed?” You asked, undoing the Velcro on the vest and pulling it over your torso. The beige precinct was buzzing as agents and officers prepared to break into the UnSub’s home base. Hopefully to find his most recent victim still alive.

Reid reached over and adjusted the strap of your vest, making sure it was evenly tightened over your shoulders. “Garcia found a warehouse on the other side of town. It’s being rented out under an anagram of the first victim’s name,” he said, gently squeezing your arm before dropping his hands back to his side.

Nodding, you followed the rest of the team out the metal doors of the precinct and into the black SUVs. “Your UnSub’s name is Jonas Watts, he used a different name to rent the space but the account he uses to pay for it is under his name,” Garcia’s voice rang through the speaker as she told you about the perpetrator. “He checks every UnSub box we have, raised by a single father after his mother left, and… oh, multiple arrests for assault.”

You looked up to the driver’s seat, your dad was white-knuckling the steering wheel, entirely focused on driving as you listened to Garcia reciting the UnSub’s rap sheet.

When you arrived at the warehouse SWAT was already there and Morgan started organizing the tactical assault. Drawing your weapon, you nodded at your teammate when he instructed you to go around the back with himself and your father. Allowing Morgan to kick the door down, the three of you held your firearms up and began clearing the warehouse.

Further away, you heard Emily and Spencer clearing the front. “Clear, moving up,” you called into your radio as you approached the stairs, stepping on them carefully so they didn’t creak. On the landing, you looked at a trail of blood on the ground. “There’s a blood trail in the upper west wing,” you whispered.

“Move up, little Hotch, I’m right behind you,” Morgan responded.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, one that you had begged him to stop using, you moved forward, keeping your firearm aimed right in front of you. Turning into the room that the blood trail led to, you immediately ducked when you saw a knife coming for you. Keeping your gun aimed, you faced down the UnSub, “Jonas Watts, FBI!” You announced yourself, scanning the room for the girl he took last night.

Watts shook his head, “You’re not supposed to be here! You can’t be here!” He shouted in distress.

“Where’s the girl, Jonas? Where did you take Isobel?” You asked him, not seeing her in the room the two of you were in. There was another entrance on the left of him.

He stepped toward you, and you cocked your gun, “I don’t have her now. I lost her, she’s lost,” he said, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Unnerved, you decided to take a leap of faith, “Jonas, where’s your partner?” A partner hadn’t been part of the profile, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The crimes were too complex, it didn’t match up with something as simple as using an anagram of a victim’s name for the warehouse rental.

Morgan filed in behind you, aiming his gun at Jonas, same as you. “Time’s running out, Jonas. If you tell us about your partner we can help you,” he said, slowly inching toward Watts.

“It’s too late,” Jonas wailed.

Someone knocked into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward before you were pulled to your feet. One arm was locked around your torso, and another was holding a knife to your throat. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut her fucking throat!” The unnamed man said from behind you, he was almost impossibly tall, easily overpowering you.

You didn’t dare move, not with that knife to your throat, one false move and you’d bleed out. Morgan shouted for him to let you go, but he just pressed the knife tighter to your neck, splitting the skin.

Shutting your eyes, you tried not to cry, fearing the damage it would do to your throat.

Your captor held you tightly to him, using your body to block Morgan from shooting. Something warm trickled down your collarbone, and you weren’t sure if it was blood or tears.

For a moment, you thought you could swing your foot back into his knee, but the fear of having your carotid cut outweighed your bravery.

Ever since you were a kid, you thought death would be quiet. Something you slipped into like sleep, but your death was loud, and it left your ears ringing.

The afterlife was the weirdest place you’ve ever been, someone was calling your name, and you heard your rights being read. Although, why you would need your Miranda Rights in the afterlife you had no idea.

“Angel, please open your eyes,” someone said.

Confused, you opened your eyes and saw familiar eyes staring down at you. Golden and bleary. Spencer, Spencer was here. You tried to sit up, but he held you down, keeping a hand on your throat.

Morgan was shouting for medical, saying there was an agent down. You turned your head to see the still unidentified UnSub on the ground, shot through the temple. Using his free hand to turn your chin, “Don’t look,” Spencer whispered. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, angel.”

If you weren’t still coming down from an adrenaline high, you might’ve smiled at the irony of the nickname. Being called ‘angel’ after having your neck cut felt like tempting fate.

Where was your dad? Of everyone here, you expected him to be here, barking orders at people.

As if summoned by your thoughts, your dad appeared, nearly hauling an EMT behind him, “Help her,” he said.

Yeah, that absolutely tracked.

The EMT’s packed your wound and assured everyone that your carotid had not been slit, against your protests, the ambulance brought you to the hospital for stitches. Emily had run to the hotel to get your go bag, allowing you to change out of your bloodied clothes.

Thankfully, the doctors said you didn’t need to stay overnight, meaning you and the team got to go home. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked while you were waiting to board the jet.

You hummed, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes, and leaning against a car, “Tired, but I’m alright.” Tired might have been underselling it, you felt like all of the energy had been physically drained from your body. “You worry too much,” you whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment. Your throat was a little raspy, but it should go back to normal after a couple of days.

“Your throat was cut about four hours ago, some might say I’m not worrying enough,” he responded, reaching down, and picking up your bag, carrying it over to the jet once they got the okay to board. On the jet, he gestured to the seat, “Lay down, get some rest.”

You furrowed your brows, “Isn’t it kind of frowned upon to take up a whole seat?” You asked, of course, sometimes it happened, but you didn’t want to take up too much space.

Spencer cocked his head at you, “I don’t think anyone is going to fight you on it, love.”

Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the seat, laying down and closing your eyes, falling asleep before you even left the tarmac.

Being the Unit Chief had its perks, surely, but the piles of paperwork sometimes felt never-ending. Aaron took a deep breath before he closed the file, Rossi sat across from him, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“Hey,” Prentiss whispered, taking the seat next to him and setting her glass of water down on the small table. “Do you see that?” She said, gesturing with her head toward where you were lying down, asleep.

Right next to you was Reid, who usually had his nose buried in a book at this point in a flight, but he was wide awake, and all of his focus seemed to be on you. Begrudgingly, Hotch watched as Spencer reached over and tucked a blanket around you as if he was afraid you’d freeze on the temperature-controlled jet. “What about it?” Hotch asked, reaching over for the next file.

His eyes flicked up again, Spencer was sitting on the floor of the jet. Everyone had elected to leave the couch seats for the two of you, but the one across the aisle from you was empty. Like Reid didn’t even want you to be any more than one foot away from him.

Leaning back in the chair, Emily shook her head, “That’s what we in the business call hypervigilance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, he just spared another glance over at the two of you. “’We in the business’?” He inquired, humoring Prentiss.

“I’m just saying… the hovering? The blanket? I don’t know about you, but that looks pretty real to me,” she said, leaning back in the leather seat.

Silently, he glared, it would seem his hopes of getting the team to stop eavesdropping on familial conversations were quashed.

“Just let the kids be, Aaron,” Rossi said, grinning into his glass.

He cleared his throat and flipped open the new file before he acquiesced, “Fine, for now.”

please reblog, like, and/or comment if you enjoyed 🩵

[darthfighter]

your shadow

Part One of Your Shadow series

warnings: some violence & immense tension !!! not too many warnings for this chapter

summary: as you attempt to run away from your past, it seems as though a presence brings the past back at your door.

word count: 1.7k

authors note: the qimir brainrot is so real i decided to publicly post my first ever fic since there is a drought of them for this man. so hopefully you guys like this :’) i plan to make another part to this series soon!! so be on the look out <3

part two here

Olega was supposed to be an escape. A way out. This was supposed to be a safe haven from your suffocating life you had run away from. You were constantly on the run. Finding nothing but remembrance of your past everywhere you settled. There was never a break, just a faint breath at the back of your neck whispering a hot memory of what you try to forget.

Today you thought- a simple task should be all that I tackle today. You didn't want something to weigh you down your shoulders every time you stepped outside as it usually does. But you thought a simple grocery run would be enough.

You walked through the streets of Olega. Vendors left and right. Smells that were salivating to sense here or strong rancid smells that clearly physically took on your appearance there. Fruits here and skinned animals you couldn't name there. It was definitely overwhelming, which in this case you were thankful for. You needed something off of your mind. Finally, you made your way to the vendor selling meiloorun fruit. You grabbed three and put it inside your basket, then gave enough credits to the seller.

The feeling of the fruit under your touch brought you back. Your eyes stung at your defeat. You remembered. The hot days on your homeplanet. Where you and your older brother would play outside in the hot forsaken heat, and your mother would juice her meiloorun fruit that awaited you both when you were done playing. The drink has forever been a comfort to you. Feeling as though, swallowing the juice healed your insides. Physically and mentally.

As you are deep in thought strolling along the street, you bump into a person. But before your fruit can fall out of your basket, you and the person catch the two fruit that flew out, into both of your own hands. Together, frozen in place, you both look at each other. Immediately there is a smile onto your face as the situation is quite funny in itself. As for the person, or now you know as you look at them, the man, is puzzled. He has a face of concentration. Like he is trying to read you. The expression on his face drops your heart to the floor instead. You pick yourself up in front of him and force your shoulders straight, as you were taught.

"I'm sorry about that, that was my fault." You apologize. Although in your head your voice was louder than when it actually came out your throat. You felt small at this moment. And indeed you were.

The man in front of you was covered in sheets of cloth like a robe, with straight black hair with strands in front of his face, and tall. He towered over you. The intimidation was seeping out through your stance. He says no words to your apology. No "It's okay" or "It was my fault." Just dark orbs staring into your apologetic eyes.

"Okay." You mumble, "Sorry, again." You turn your heel as quick as you caught the fruit and start to walk away, until.

"I think you're forgetting something!" He spoke. For the first time.

You turn around to see him still holding the fruit in his hand, that he didn't put in your basket. Embarrassment washes over you and you can feel your ears grow hot. You walk towards him to grab the fruit out of his hand with a shy smile planted on your face, but instead he still locks eyes with you as he drops the fruit into your basket himself. Leaving your hand in the air still.

"You new around here?" The man asked

Your hand is still in the air, you put it down before you answer. "Yes." you replied shortly, feeling the sting of embarrassment continue to course through your body.

He nods in return.

There is an awkward silence between the two of you. Although it feels as though his presence is something you've felt before. Something you recognize. It seems like the two of you sense it, but say nothing.

"I gotta get going. Again, sorry about that."

He says nothing again, just shakes his head up and down with a smirk plastered on his face. He moves to the side swiftly, and bows his head down as a signal of goodbye.

You start to walk away, but the farther you get away from him, the more you realize you have been holding your breath more than you thought. Heavy inhales and exhales left you as you left yourself.

-

When you had made it home, the man's presence lingered behind you like a shadow. You drank your childhood drink still wondering why he stuck to your thoughts. It started to frustrate you to the point you felt the fire in your throat, so you decided to sleep it off. To hopefully wake up in the morning with the encounter faded from your mind.

Hours had passed in your bed and your body sunk into the blankets. Your room was dim with a shadow casting through your blinds from the moons in the sky. Deep in sleep, your hand twitches. You felt something. Something there. With you. It brought you out of your slumber to only wake up to a dark tall silhouette inside your room with you.

The tightness in your chest from fear became so overwhelming you felt frozen. Your elbows rested from the jolt of you waking up, and lifted as the silhouette took a step towards you. The soles of your feet met the cold floor, and force dashed outside your room.

It was the first time you force dashed in years. You thanked Maker that you still knew how to do so. Your heart galloped against your chest as you stood inside your living room.

Waiting for their next move. That move being your bedroom casting a red glow. Ever so slowly, did the stranger walk outside your room beside the red lightsaber in their hand.

A Jedi? You thought. But demolished the idea of it as quickly as it came. Jedi don't attack the unarmed.

Your lightsaber. You knew where it was at. It laid in its case above your bathroom ceiling. You just needed to get past the stranger into the bathroom behind them. Your force dash is the only option that seemed to have the best survival against them. Your heel lifts against the floor and you speed past them in a blink of an eye, but you feel the swift of heat from their lightsaber right behind you. Luckily they miss you, barely. You close and lock the bathroom door. Although you know damn well that wont hold forever.

"And where were you.. all this time."

The modulated voice behind the door sends chills down your spine. You step on top of your toilet to grab a hold of the box above you. Finally, after years of never opening this box again, you take your lightsaber out and light it.

The stranger force pulls the door from their side, leaving you revealed.

You use the stance the Jedi have taught you. Whereas the stranger still lays their lightsaber down to their side while yours rests against your face leaving the purple hue against your complexion.

They stand in front of you, unmoving. You feel the intimidation radiate off yourself, and you decide to do something about it. You strike them and sway your lightsaber towards them. Only for them to block it immediately making both of your lightsabers clash together making a bright white shine as you two clash.

Both of you dance together. Moving both of your feet in sync, both going in a circle. Now their back is facing the bathroom you came out of.

Now this time, they strike. You block and force push them away from you, but it barely does anything. It could either be the fact you haven't used the force in so long. Making you weaker than before. Or the fact they could be more powerful than you thought. In this case, it's both.

You begin to feel your exhaustion take over. Your stamina on using the force is taking a toll on you. You internally curse to yourself in this moment knowing you need to survive. Feeling nothing but failure for all that you were taught, all gone to waste.

Purple and red bounce off of each other in the room. Red comes forward and they charge at you once more. You block with all your energy and the two of you clash together repeatedly making the loud sounds of the lightsabers hurt to listen to. You flinch at the sound, making you weak. Your durability has faded, and you feel disappointment for all that you are.

Your chest heaves up and down from exhaustion, while the stranger stays completely composed. If anything, it fueled you with the anger you needed in this moment. You were revisited with the exact thing you were trying to run from. Feeling as though you fell off of the cliff you tried so hard to climb and rest at. Now, just bruised and wounded.

This time, you strike them and of course they block immediately. The two of you keep your lightsabers against each other in place this time. Sparks of the lightsabers flicker through the air. You look at the helmet before you. Cracks rest on their helmet making you finally take in their appearance. Although there is something of the presence before you that flows through your veins. It feels electrifying, in a way that doesn't resemble the fear you've felt this whole encounter. It's something curious. A curious feeling. The stranger sways their wrist to push your lightsaber away from you, only to push their blade to your arm.

Air escapes your lungs for a few seconds from the pain. You look down to your arm to see that there is a red flame latched onto the cloth of your shirt, with a tear showing your now burnt skin before you. You take a few steps back, swallowing your winces of pain to only look up to see the stranger gone.

Your home became empty with nothing but the sound of your lightsaber humming through the air.

read part two here !

[yameoto]

Bro.. i haven’t even watched challengers yet, and i think you infected me with a chronic case of challengers brainrot.. but i saw your reply to anon’s ask. suggestions? ‘aight, bet 🫡

so i used your art donaldson bot and oh my god.. i got bored and decided to tug on his hair. and it leaded to him LITERALLY humping a pillow for me and he was begging me to touch him and shit. he even started calling me daddy (and mommy at the same time 😭) i even broke the filter too.. 🧍‍♂️

im not sure if this is specific enough, but maybe this would be a great subby!art (x gn reader maybe? not sure if you write for gn!r but you get the point <3 ) fanfic. he’s just so needy for you that he’ll do anything for you (even if it means humping a pillow for you.. OKAY HEAR ME OUT—)

he makes himself out to be sooo tough on court. but when he’s in your hands? he’s literally reduced to a sobbing, whimpering mess… HEJSHSJS art brainrot is so real..

i have many other ideas but i don’t wanna be too rude to dump all of my brainrot onto you.. (sorry not sorry !!)

love your bots and writing by the way !! can’t wait to see more of it in the future 🙂‍↕️

anon you're so sweet GOD! but yes absolutely can do. art bot in question!

ART DONALDSON. NEEDY BABY.

✗ warnings ; gn!reader, sub!art, like sub!art. dom!reader, pillow humping, hair tugging, overt puppy imagery. wc ; 1k

ART had always been a patient person. he excelled at playing the long game. slow and steady won the race—won him you, after all.

but he hadn't seen you all day, and now you were home and he was sprawled out on your bed and— how much longer would you make him wait?

"hey." he reaches out, fingers intertwining with the hem of your shirt. when you don't immediately face him, he tugs, gentle.

"i played good, didn't i?"

"yes, baby. you played good.” you pat his cheek without so much as looking at him, and while the contact is nice—your palm cool and tender against the warm flush of his cheeks—its fleeting. you don’t even linger long enough for him to lean into it.

a subtle frown twists his lips. he sits up, feeling unsteady. the weight of the mattress sinks underneath him as he slowly, cautiously crawls over to you. his arms slide around your waist, body wrapping itself around your back. 

"hi." "hi." you answer, vaguely amused. he buries his nose into your nape and breathes in. the smell of you is intoxicating. "can we go to bed?" he murmurs, and the phrasing is so polite, so courteously horny that you have to laugh. "when i'm done." he makes a little, unhappy noise. it rumbles against your back. "but i need you now."

you raise a brow. "don't be gross, art." that effectively cows him. though he still remains, chin propped up on your chin and legs on either side of you, tucking you in. you can feel it when he begins to grind slowly against you, thick length of his cock twitching tentatively against your ass. "ah-ah." you tut. he freezes. you don't even turn to face him. "did i say you could do that?"

he groans, drags himself off of you (with great effort) and slides off the bed. it's almost petulant. "when?" "when i say so." the noise that rips from him is positively mournful. he slumps, head in your lap—hands clenching and unclenching uselessly into the mattress.

you're still not even looking at him, fingers wordlessly threading into his hair and moving along in these elegant, tenderly gratifying movements that leave his cheeks burning impossibly hot, the patch in his boxers growing impossibly wet.

at a loss, he begins to slowly rub up against the corner of the mattress, hips rolling in steadied, carefully monitored waves. it's imperceptible, its perfect. he just needs a little release. just a little, to hold him out until you finally glance up from your laptop and give him something, anything— fuck. his groin finds that sweet spot the same moment your nails dig just right, and he can't bite back the moan slips from his lips. it's damnably loud in the silence of the room.

art meets your eyes, keening at the unimpressed stare you level him with, the knowing twitch of your lips. he has to swallow the instinctive plea that swells up in his throat. no, no. don't stop don't stop—

"oh, sweetie." like clockwork, your hand untwines from his locks, and he crumples.

"please—can’t fucking take it.” he moans miserably into your thigh, slumped over. he's grinding brazenly now, all pretences lost; rutting hopelessly against the edge of the mattress with his cheek pressed against your thigh. "baby." you sigh, closing the lid of your laptop. he just shakes his head, hands wringing into the sheets as if he were clinging to the edge of a cliff.

it's so pathetic, you have to take pity on him. "up. on the bed." art perks up, hope ballooning in his chest. he scrambles up on the mattress, so eager—lips parted, on all fours. god, he looks so pretty like this; dick cradled by the fabric of his soaked boxers, straining so you were almost sure they’d tear a hole. he looks ready to jump you. you snort, running a hand through his hair indulgently. "not so fast, pretty boy. use the pillow, if it'll stop you from whining." he doesn't even protest. he's burning too hot. as soon as you give him permission, art scrambles on top of the pillow like it's god-given gift to the world. the moment it makes contact, his breath hitches—eyes flittering up with the feeling of goddamn heaven—

"wait." "what?" art hisses, though he freezes anyway, a dog on your leash. his eyes are sparkling as he looks up at you. "boxers. off." "okay." he agrees breathlessly. his mind is so fuzzy you could tell him to cum and he simply, would. he yanks his boxers down and his dick springs up like a jack-in-the-box. he lets out a low moan, limbs almost folding in on themselves when his bare, swollen tip slides slick against fabric. ah, jeez.

if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was your thigh. "n-now?" his legs are quivering. his dick hurts. you look entirely too amused. "mhm." the noise he makes is guttural. he's so sensitive—each thrust elicits another pant, hips rolling in a frenzied rhythm. he wishes it was you. fuck, your warmth wrapping around his cock—your hands cradling his balls. the veins on his underside bulge, the coil in his sack drawing tighter and tighter. shit, shit. he's gonna cum now. he's gonna cum in record-time to the tender loving care of your pillow. his moans twist into cries, bed-frame shaking under the force of his weight. "you gonna cum now, angel?"art nods, jerky and furious. it's that word that gets him. angel. angel. a shudder rips through his body and thick, ropy streams of cum are splattering against the pillow. painting it, stained and sticky. he's hovers there for a moment; crammed between his legs, frame quivering, thighs wet as his mind blanks. it'd be in disbelief, if he had the pride—but he doesn't—so it's simple, utter pleasure. god, his life is perfect. he crumbles into your lap like the colosseum. the corners of his mind are still fuzzy. the warmth of your thigh against his cheek is the only thing he's ever needed, only thing he's ever craved. god, he didn't even realise his cheeks were wet—doesn't think he cares. "good boy." you murmur, and he can hear the smile in your voice. your hand finds his hair, and he can't stop his hips from rolling against nothing.

[cherrysnip]

sleep hugs - kim mingyu

pairing: mingyu x reader

a/n: just me having a tiny brainrot of a dad!mingyu being a scaredy-cat lmao i could bet this would happen in real life jk

and i'm just hoping i wrote it as fun as how it played in my head😭

He wasn't saying anything, but you could tell there was something wrong as he pressed himself closer to you.

"Love, are you okay?" You finally asked.

"Did I wake you up?" Guilt laced his voice. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," you turned to face him but his arms remained wrapped around you. "Are you having nightmares again?"

He shook his head. "I'm not. But I'm definitely hearing something..."

Your brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I might just be imagini---"

And as if on cue, you both heard it. It sounded like a whimper, like someone crying. 

Right then, you already knew who it was, so you didn't even hesitate to get up. Mingyu, however, was quick to grab your wrist. "Love, where are you going? What if it's a ghost?"

"It's not a ghost, Love. I'm certain about that."

"How?"

"I just know, okay? Now let me go so we can both get some sleep."

He hesitated, but seeing your determination, he finally let you get out of his hold. However, it didn't mean his worry dissipated.

He followed you as you walked towards your bedroom door. When you opened it, your hunch was confirmed.

Right outside your room, was your son Jion hugging his knees, crying. You immediately crouched before him.

"Jion, why are you crying, sweetheart?" Upon hearing your voice, the child looked up at you, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

"I can't sleep, Mama."

"Then you should have just come into our room. I told you before, right? You can always sleep beside us, anytime," you assured him.

"But Mama, I'm already a big boy. I should be able to sleep on my own, but I still can't," he sobbed even louder. Mingyu, who had been quietly watching, kneeled down and spread his arms. Understanding what it meant, Jion quickly went to his father for a hug.

"It doesn't matter how big you are, you can still sleep with us anytime you want," Mingyu told him while giving your son light comforting pats on his back.

"Really, Papa?" Jion asked. "Can I still get 'sleep hugs' even when I'm already old?" 

Mingyu nodded and kissed the top of Jion's head. "Of course, you can."

"Just don't scare your Papa again next time," you teased which then earned you a fake glare and pout from your husband.

—♡—

[forbidden-sideblog]

First time with Caleb

A Love and Deepspace Fanfic

18+ only, MDNI

Pairing: Caleb x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Content: First time, NSFW, Pure smut. Porn without plot, Dom Caleb/Sub reader, PIV, fingering, unprotected sex (dont be stupid), orgasm denial, creampie, cockwarming, breeding kink if you squint.

a/n: This is my first time not only writing smut, but writing fanfic in general. I'm just that deep in the Caleb brainrot. Feedback welcomed but please go gentle on me. Should I keep writing these?

Caleb almost believed it was a dream, except it felt so very real. Caleb knew you better than anyone. He could read you like an open book. But he had never seen you like this before.

You were so shy at first. You feel exposed under his knowing gaze as you lay on his bed, Caleb kneeling over you, seeing you like this for the first time. When he undresses you and finds your panties already so soaked through with your need for him you want to hide in embarrassment, covering your face and pressing your thighs together. But Caleb just carefully pries your hands away from your face and chuckles softly as he presses soft kisses to your forehead. "Why are you hiding pip-squeak? It's just me. You don't need to be shy with me."

Of course Caleb notices the way your eyes widen as he pulls down his pants. He already knew he was big, but seeing your reaction he can't help the cocky smirk that starts forming on his face. He doesn't miss how you are licking your lips as you stare at the size of him. Maybe next time he would let you have a taste of him, but right now he just needs to feel you.

Caleb doesn't even bother wetting his fingers, you are already more than wet enough.. pushing your panties aside he dips a finger in between your folds to collect some moisture, before running a couple of slow circles around your clit. Having craved his touch for so long, the sensation instantly sends your head spinning and a couple of breathy moans escape from you. Keeping his eyes on you to observe your reactions, Caleb plunges two long fingers inside you and groans deeply as he feels how snugly your wet pussy clenches around them.

"Fuck, you're so tight baby... I'm going to need to loosen you up a little so I don't hurt you, okay? Please relax for me. – Breathe."

You can't help but get flustered at his words and the new nickname, and start blushing as you try to look away, but he catches your face with his free hand and brings your eyes back to meet his.

"You okay, pip-squeak? I can stop here if you're not ready yet. I don't want to do anything you're not comfortable with..."

The feeling of his still fingers inside you, and your desire for him to start moving them to give you the friction you so desperately crave overshadows any embarrassment you might have felt. You shake your head vigorously. "...Don't stop. -- Please – I want it.."

Caleb lets out a little chuckle at the needy tone in your voice. Then his lips are on you in an instant, trailing kisses down your neck as he starts working his fingers in you, curving them upwards to press against your spongy spot while this thumb draws circles on your clit.

Your initial shyness completely melts away as you lose yourself in the pleasure he's giving you. It doesn't take long before you're rutting your hips eagerly against his hand. Soft moans start falling freely from your lips as a knot of pleasure is already starting to build within you, and Caleb can tell you're getting close. You whimper at the sudden emptiness as he removes his fingers from you, but before you can voice your complaints he captures your lips in a lustful kiss. "Sorry baby, but I didn't wait this long just to have you cumming on my fingers..."

After seeing your body's response to just his fingers, Caleb is dying to see how you'll look wrapped around his cock. He rubs it slowly through your folds a few times to let you feel his size. "Last chance to turn back.. sure you're ready, pip-squeak?" He asks as his tip hits against your clit in a way that's making you see white. You can feel your pussy just clenching at air, feeling almost unbearably empty. "Ah! -- Please! Caleb.. I need you.."

Fuck. After hearing the neediness in your voice it takes every ounce of self restraint left in Caleb to not just ram into you instantly. Despite his ministrations you are still so tight when he pushes his tip in... it's a good thing you're so damn wet. Caleb grips your hips tightly to keep you steady as he sheathes himself fully, making you take all of him. You have never felt so full before. You were expecting pain, but the way he stretches you out feels so fucking satisfying. ""Ah! Fuck! -- Caleb... it's so. -- Ah! so big. Fuck! -- Mmmm.". Caleb had wanted to take it slow for you, but how could he possibly hold back when you're like this for him? When this is everything he has dreamed of for so long?

Caleb is taking in every bit of this moment, committing it all to memory. The weight of you in his hands as he lifts your hips up to meet his greedy thrusts. The feel of your soft skin under his fingers. The arch in your back, your chest heaving for air, head thrown back into the pillows, fingers clawing at the sheets. The way your tits bounce along to the relentless speed he's pounding into you.

Your first orgasm hits like a truck, and Caleb is drinking in all of it. The way your legs are shaking uncontrollably around him as he keeps fucking you through it. The tightness and warmth of your pussy that's so dripping wet and clenching, all for him. His name spilling from your lips again and again, mixed with those desperate moans of pleasure. You are such a beautiful mess for him. He has dreamed of this moment so many times before, and to see you like this... So needy. So eager. So desperate for him to fill you up.

Fuck.

He is not going to last much longer like this, but he is NOT ready to finish. NOT YET. He stills within you, still gripping your hips tight and keeping himself fully sheathed. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside you and let out a whine. The overstimulation you were feeling as Caleb kept fucking you through your orgasm had finally eased up and now you're craving more. Need more. You try to grind up against him, desperate for more friction. Caleb swears softly as your walls clench around him, but his firm grip keeps you in place. "Sorry pip-squeak, but I don't want to cum yet."

He lowers your hips to the mattress and moves your ankles to his shoulders before leaning over you and pinning your hands above your head, the position ensuring you're still restricted from grinding up against him the way you want. You open your mouth to complain but your whines are all swallowed by Caleb's hungry kisses. He pulls away to get a better look at your face, your eyes half lidded and glossy, your mouth open and panting, your lips swollen from his intense kisses. You were looking so fucked out already. "You look so beautiful like this baby... So pretty for me.”

“Caleb, please” you beg as you try to rut up against him, urging him to move.

“Just can't get enough, huh? Don't worry, I gotchu baby." He chuckles. Finally having regained his composure enough Caleb starts thrusting into you again.

The new position lets Caleb get even deeper, his dick rubbing against the tender spots inside you that makes you see stars. His hips start slamming against you at a dizzying speed, filling you to the brim with each thrust. You can already feel that tight coil forming, telling you that your second orgasm is not far behind. Caleb can tell too by how ragged your breathing is getting. Keeping one hand still pinning your arms above your head, he reaches the other down between you to rub your clit.

"Are you going to come for me again, pip-squeak?"

You nod up at him, too lost in your pleasure to form words. He leans down to kiss you, pushing his tongue into your mouth to claim it completely. The combination of the sensations is almost too much; his dick ramming against your cervix, his fingers rubbing your clit, his tongue greedily dancing against yours. The tight coil that's been building within you finally snaps, sending shock waves of pleasure through your body.

The way your orgasm has you clenching around him sends Caleb over the edge, too. He cums hard with a groan and you can feel the warm liquid filling you up, painting your still twitching walls. The sensation of the excess cum spilling out of your tight hole as he keeps pumping into you riding the waves of his orgasm feels almost obscene. He finally stills within you and eases your legs off his shoulders, carefully turning you on your side, before collapsing beside you, spooning you, holding you close. His twitching cock is still buried deep within you as you both lay there panting from the force of your orgasms.

He strokes your skin and presses soft kisses to your neck until your little aftershocks have eased up completely. But still he doesn't pull out.

"Caleb... that was... " You start, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not done yet."

You turn your head to look at him questioningly and are met with his cocky little grin.

"I've waited too long to have it be over this quickly. Just give me a minute pip-squeak." He reaches down with one hand and starts rubbing lazy circles around your clit, and it isn't long before you feel him swelling within you again, ready for round two.

—

The cleanup will need to wait until the morning. By the time Caleb has had his fill, you'll both be too tired to move, and Caleb is still unwilling to let go of you. He'll stroke your hair and tell you how amazing you are and how long he has longed for this moment until you fall asleep from exhaustion in his arms. Don't worry, though. Once you wake up, he'll run you a bath, strip the sheets, and cook you a breakfast with all your favorites. ♡

[silovsmenot]

Foreign Language | Artūrs Šilovs

SUMMARY: A first meeting with a certain Latvian goalie, a surprise that leaves him thinking of you ... And an unexpected reunion thanks to injury. WARNINGS: So much fluff, poor Latvian language - if you're a Latvian native, please excuse me, I'm still learning. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilov & reader (f!reader implied). NOTES: This was the very first idea that I had, and it's been a brainrot ever since. This could very easily be a multi-part, because the brainrot is real. Okay so little Latvian lesson: 'sveiki' is an informal form of hello and 'piedodiet' is sorry. WORD COUNT: 2147 FIND PART TWO HERE

New job, new city — you were beyond excited to get started with your new life in Vancouver. It was a dream come true, a sports photographer for the Vancouver Sun. You’d be covering everything from soccer to basketball, and your personal favourite, ice hockey. It couldn’t have been better.

It had only been a few weeks and you were still pretty starstruck by the whole situation. The smile had rarely left your lips for everything felt so right. As you drove to the Abbotsford Centre, your music turned to loud as you sang along to your favourite song — life was good. And today promised to be another good day. You were helping to cover a story of the Vancouver prospects in Abbotsford and how they were developing within the AHL affiliate, while your partner would be interviewing players at the rink side and in changing rooms, you’d be snapping the shots of the training session.

It promised to be a lot easier than your usual days, training sessions were a lot more relaxed than game photography. Even with their game against playoff rivals looming, you knew it would be a calmer atmosphere than the alternative.

With the heavy camera bag upon your shoulders, digits scraped back your hair as you walked, tied back as you always did while working. Nodding across to your partner who stood waiting at the large rink doors, he held out a coffee to you, which you gratefully accepted with a quiet ‘thank you’. You two were close, like siblings — natural partners and you always delivered high tier work together.

“The boss wants some focus on the goalies, see what you can do, y/n.” He muttered as you walked, both sipping quietly at the hot liquid. From where you were, you could already hear the shouts of training, the crash of the puck against glass and the slapping of sticks upon the ice. It was a sound you knew and loved.

And as your partner pushed open the door, the bright lights of the rink lit everything up. You both moved quickly with a light tapping of both coffee cups in luck, your partner immediately gravitating to the head coach who lingered beside the boards, while you would weave onto the bench and begin your setup. Lens mounted onto the camera body, fixing your settings to this particular arena until you were happy with your picture. It was simply second nature now.

You stood beside the boards, camera switching from player to player with smooth motions as the camera clicked. Turning to each goalie, your camera would linger with the rhythmic clicking — you didn’t need to know all of the story, but a focus on the goalies was always a popular one. Players being called up to the NHL happened so regularly, it was hardly a story, but goalies? Now that got people ticking.

As the session progressed, you watched your partner question each player who came to the bench for water before they’d even had a chance to breathe. You would simply smile at each person, almost sympathetically, and do your job with the clicking of the camera.

Even as the young goalie skated over, angling toward the bench where you stood with a hand outstretched for a bottle, your lips presented a small smile as you waited for your partner to pounce. But as he was too wrapped up with Tolopilo, this goalie was left in silence … for a moment at least. You knew a little about him, of course. A young guy from Latvia, drafted a few years ago now, with a bit of a rocky start to the season. His eyes met yours as the blue and green mask was raised from his face, lips curled into a smile at the first glance.

You spoke without a second thought. It had been some years now since you ended things with your ex, but you’d spent a few years learning Latvian for them — it had been years since you had any reason to use it. 

“Sveiki…” 

Artūrs blinked. The smile on his lips disappeared as confusion was etched in its place. He’d been in Canada for a while now, with only the occasional passing player conversation to give him that little piece of home. He’d never expected this woman to come out with that.

“Sveiki.” The goalie quietly replied, leaning his weight forward upon the boards beside you. “You’re Latvian?”

You shook your head, a quiet laugh slipping through your lips as the camera lowered, your body turning to almost mirror his as you leaned upon the boards.

“I’m not Latvian, but my ex was. I learned some from when we were together.” 

As you spoke, he watched you closely as the smile returned to his face. A smile that you couldn’t help but find contagious. He nodded slowly, thinking silently to himself before his blocker hand began to shake. The glove removed, his hand wiping upon his jersey before it was offered across to you with a grin.

“I’m Artūrs,” He spoke with a little more confidence, capturing your gaze beneath his dark eyes. They were easy to get lost in as you looked at him. “But this lot mostly call me Arty.” 

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, Arty.” You hummed as your hand came to meet his, a slight look of amusing disgust at the sweaty hand of the goaltender. Needless to say it was enough to make the young goalie laugh.

Releasing his hand with a playful swat, you too would wipe your hand upon your jumper as he laughed. You couldn’t blame him, and you too found it funny, but a sweaty hand was not  what you wanted.

“Piedodiet.” He spoke through the laughter, head cocking as he watched you. Your eyes narrowed playful in response to his apology.

“I’m not sure that I believe that you’re sorry.” You found yourself teasing in response, the camera growing heavy in your hands as it sat idle. If your partner looked over, it would look as though you were helping him with his job — but far from it. You were enjoying yourself, more than you realised at the time.

He gave no response, just the rising and falling of his brows. A cheeky grin at his lips as the hand returned the blocker, the bottle returned to it’s place on the boards.

“Will I see you around here more?” Arty called out as he took a few strides away from where you stood. He hoped, silently, that you’d say yes. That you’d be back to photograph and chat more. For whatever reason, he wasn’t quite sure yet, he wanted to see more of you.

It was your turn to stay silent, shrugging with shoulders and hands. You had no idea if your job would bring you back to the Abbotsford Centre, but you hoped that it would.

And as the training session came to end, your partner returned to you with a notepad full of notes and a voice recorder full to burst, you gave a lingering glance back to the goalie as he took his first steps from the ice, and met your eyes with a smile.

Months passed and you had often thought of the grinning Latvian goalie of the Abbotsford Canucks. Your job hadn’t taken you back to the little suburb of Vancouver, though you’d occasionally catch the games on TV. A little curiosity peaking as you’d remember the conversation with him — sometimes, you’d catch yourself smiling as you thought about it. You’d watch his games when you could and read the news in which he featured.

You couldn’t say that you missed him, you barely knew him, but you wanted to know him … You wanted to be able to miss him.

March rolled around, the end of the regular season was in sight and you’d taken the lead in photography coverage of the Vancouver Canucks for a while now — you’d become a regular at the Rogers Arena, and knew most of the faces of players, staff and partners. You’d even become friends with a number of the wives and girlfriends. You were a familiar face to all.

And you were one of the first on the scene, with your partner in tow, at the announcement of the press conference. Demko’s injury was the worst kept secret in the city, and you’d all been waiting for them to announce it. To know which lucky goalie was getting the call up from Abbotsford.

Journalists and photographers piled into the large room with whispers and nods of acknowledgement. Everyone waiting for Tocchet to make the announcement, and your heart skipped a little beat when he did … for the grinning goalie, Artūrs Šilovs would be taking up the role of back-up in Demko’s absence. 

You wasted no time in getting down to the rink following the announcement, you knew that all the reporters would be clamouring for a word with the captain and the rookie goalie. As the flood of journalists began through the arena, the players were already leaving the ice with only the two goalies remaining with Clarkie. Many left to find the captain and coaches, while a few photographers, yourself included, would snap what shots they could of the two goaltenders.

Your stomach did a spin to see him again, the grin seemingly stuck with glue upon your lips — it had been months, surely he wouldn’t not remember you, you thought. But as his eyes glanced across to the wall of photographers, his gaze did linger upon you. Beneath his mask, he did grin. He’d spent months hoping to see you in Abbotsford, at his training or his game. It was a bitter disappointment when another photographer had been sent down in your place.

And as the nod was given for both goalies to leave the ice, little else mattered to him than making a beeline to you.

“Sveiki.” Arty immediately said as the helmet was raised, drifting on his skates just in front of you. Your smile spread instantly, quietly returning the hello with a hum. “I need to change, but please don’t run off.”

With a curious look etched upon your features, you silently nodded. It was the end of your working day anyway, you needed to sort through the photos of the day, but you could do that while you waited.

So sat upon a chair in the stands, laptop open and photos running through, you edited and submitted your best to your partner who would return to the office to write his piece. Gaze would snap up at the first sound of movement up the steps, it was strange to see him out of his goalie gear and in normal, casual clothing. A pair of jeans, a jumper, and glasses? There was something unexpected about that, but they suited him well. You liked the glasses' look.

“You didn’t come down to Abbotsford again.” He quietly said, the disappointment clear in his voice and on his face. And you felt the sting — but you also felt the twist in your stomach of excitement … he’d wanted to see you again, he’d thought about you.

“They moved me solely to these guys. I’m barely away from this rink now, Arty.” You sighed, hand closing the laptop which rested in your lap. You’d hold it there, fiddling with the corner as you thought. “I watched some of your games from home. I should’ve come down for one or two … to watch.”

“Do you want to go for a coffee, y/n?” Artūrs interjected, impatiently and abruptly. It was almost like he had to get it out before he could stop himself, and he was noticeably nervous as he waited for an answer.

You took a moment, watching him fiddle with the hem of his jumper as he waited — yet his smile never wavered. It was stuck, just as yours was.

“I’d like that.” You finally spoke, returning the laptop to your bag without breaking eye contact. The weight in his chest lifted immediately, a heavy exhale parting his lips as he nodded. You rose with a struggle, the camera bag always seeming to be heavier in that first moment, and Arty was quick to assist. His hand offered out, collecting the strap from your hand as it was slung onto his back with ease.

You walked from the arena together, both grinning wide with occasional glances at the other. A comfortable silence between you, it was simply a nice feeling to walk at each other’s side.

“Es priecājos jūs atkal redzēt.” He finally spoke, breaking the silence with words you didn’t quite know. Your Latvian limited to basic phrases that you learned to speak to your ex’s family during the holidays. 

“What does that mean?” You whispered, leaning a little closer.

“I’m glad to see you again.”

And your heart skipped a little beat.