when i was plotting relative fiction, i thought a lot about how long i could have alex go in between trips back to monaco, and i didn't anticipate the answer was basically the whole season
but since you've given me this space, i'm taking this opportunity to liveblog my thoughts, thank u so much
alex saying if he had a youtube channel it'd be "messy." like sure. onlyfans alex is real i guess
alex and carlos roasting the drivers who get too serious about jetlag lmaoo. and like alex. can we be serious because when he said "some drivers, and i'm not going to call anyone out, but some drivers are so keen on it. like you'll go to the plane, and they've got the sunglasses on in the plane" do we not all know that he's talking about George, who is always going on about his blue tint glasses, wears them at all hours constantly, and who even got his girlfriend wearing them. like you can name names king, it's fine. we all know your anecdotes are always about George.
alex is too tall to sleep on planes and likes to travel on monday instead of sunday after the race. i'm filing this information away for later.
carlos can't go more than three weeks without going home but alex hasn't been home since before winter testing (and isn't going home after jeddah either) because he doesn't feel like he has a home because his flat might as well be a hotel. that's fine, i feel fine
"i don't have a connection to a home" actually needs it's own line
carlos earnestly giving alex relationship advice and saying that at some point he needs to find a home... he needs to call somewhere a home..... some place he and illy can go.... I've got something in my eye
sidenote but i hope the carlos scholars are investigating why carlos only found a home two years ago. i'm trusting you all with this
alex finds comfort in smells and lemongrass and always has a diffuser :))) the omegaverse implications are frankly huge
"i'm introverted and I've gotten better at the big events but it's more that I've just gotten better at coping with it" we know king but actually please never shut up about it because i lap it up every time
alex and carlos side quest at any give time: here's how we can make this conversation about golf
alex knocking on his head when carlos said that you don't see big crashes at turn one anymore... i see superstitions really are back on the menu after all
the two of them joking about marko.... trauma bonding team
carlos's proudest thing being finishing school oh help
and ALEX'S being GETTING BACK TO F1. i could hear him talk about it forever and never not be unwell about it. "for the first 7 months i gave it everything, like everything, and it was just getting to the point where i was like, okay i need a plan b." my guyyyyyyy
on a personal level: is alex wearing new trousers this weekend or am i just weak. they just look like they actually fit him
The room stayed quiet in that deep, syrupy way that only existed after midnight. The lights stayed off, the curtains barely breathed, and the digital clock on the nightstand glowed like a tiny, smug witness. You lay on your side, eyes wide open, staring into the dark as if it owed you answers.
Sleep refused to come.
You rolled onto your back, then to your other side. The sheets whispered every time you moved, the sound too loud in your ears. You squeezed your eyes shut, counted your breaths, tried to trick your body into giving up. It did not work. Your thoughts wandered everywhere except where they needed to go. Tomorrow’s schedule, a half remembered song, the way the ceiling fan clicked earlier. Everything arrived uninvited.
Beside you, Intak slept like the world made perfect sense.
His breathing stayed slow and steady, chest rising and falling with a rhythm that felt unfairly calm. One arm stayed thrown above his head, hair a soft mess against the pillow. He looked peaceful, the kind of peaceful that made you irrationally annoyed. You shifted again, tugging the blanket higher, then lower, then higher once more.
Nothing helped.
You sighed, loud enough to feel satisfying but quiet enough to not wake him. You tried laying completely still, as if your body were a statue someone forgot to finish. Five seconds passed. Ten. Your leg twitched on its own, traitorous. You rolled again, frustration curling in your chest.
The mattress dipped beside you.
You froze.
Intak shifted, a low sound leaving his throat as he dragged himself out of sleep. He turned toward you, eyes still closed, brows faintly knit. His hand searched blindly until it found your waist.
“What are you doing,” he murmured, voice thick and rough with sleep.
You huffed softly, staring at the wall. “I can’t sleep.”
He opened one eye, then the other, squinting at you in the dark. “You keep moving.”
“That’s because I can’t sleep.”
He hummed, clearly thinking very hard for someone awake at this hour. “You should try staying still.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Wow. Genius. Why didn’t I think of that.”
He smiled faintly, lazy and crooked, then shifted closer. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you back against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth soaked into you immediately, grounding and familiar. He tucked his chin near your shoulder and pressed a soft kiss there, barely awake.
“Just relax,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
You let yourself sink into him, despite yourself. His hand traced slow, absent patterns over your side, thumb brushing through fabric. His breathing evened out again, his body already drifting back toward sleep. You focused on the weight of him, the warmth, the quiet.
You tried.
Minutes passed. Maybe two. Maybe five.
Your mind did not slow. Your thoughts bounced, stubborn and bright. Sleep stayed just out of reach, like something you could almost touch but never grab. You swallowed, shoulders tensing.
This wasn’t working.
Carefully, you shifted, turning around in his arms until you faced him. He stirred but did not fully wake, eyes half lidded, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Up close, he looked impossibly soft. His hair fell into his eyes, lips parted slightly as he breathed. The annoyance in your chest eased, replaced by something warmer, more playful.
An idea sparked.
You grinned into the dark, a quiet, wicked curve of your lips that he could not see. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his neck. The skin there stayed warm, sensitive. You kissed once, then again, softer, lingering. His breath hitched, barely noticeable but there.
Your fingers slid over his upper body, tracing the lines of his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. You felt him tense, then relax, then tense again as his sleep fractured. A low sound slipped from him, half sigh, half question.
Intaks breath caught the moment your hand brushed across his stomach, fingers tracing the ridges of muscle just above his waistband.
“Y/n,” he warned, his voice hoarse from sleep but already sharper, more awake. “That doesn’t look like sleeping.”
You smirked, your face only inches from his on the pillow. “Maybe I don’t even want to sleep anymore.” Your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his pants, nails dragging lightly against his skin.
He groaned softly, half in frustration, half in need, his hand snapping out to catch your wrist. “You’re impossible.”
“Mm,” you hummed, rolling onto him fully, your leg hooking over his waist as you straddled him beneath the blankets. “But i know you love it.”
He tried to glare at you, but the way your hair fell loose around your face, the glint in your eyes, and the heat of you pressed against him made it impossible. “You’re doing this because you’re bored?”
“No because I can’t sleep,” you corrected, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, then trailing along his jaw. “And because you’re here...looking like that.”
Intak cursed under his breath, his grip on your wrist loosening as his free hand slid to your hip. “You’re killing me, do you know that”
“Well ain't that a Good Way to go,” You murmured against his neck, before biting down just hard enough to make him groan.
He flipped you suddenly, rolling you so you were beneath him, his body caging yours in. His hair hung damp across his forehead, his eyes burning down into yours. “If you start something, don’t think I’ll let you back out of it.”
Your lips curled into a grin, your chest rising fast. “Who said anything about backing out?”
For a moment, you just stared at each other, breathing heavy, the tension sparking between you hotter than the night air. Then you pulled him down into a kiss — hungry, messy, desperate.
Your mouths collided again and again, your hands sliding under his shirt, nails dragging along his back, making him shiver. Intak groaned into your mouth, pressing his hips against yours, already hard beneath the thin fabric of his pants.
You gasped, then grinned against his lips. “See? Way better than sleeping.”
“Shut up,” he growled, kissing you harder, his hand slipping under your shirt to cup your breast.
Your moan filled the small space, muffled only when he swallowed it with another kiss. The blanket tangled around you as your bodies pressed tighter together, both of you caught between frustration and heat, neither willing to stop now that the fire was lit.
Your kisses grew sloppier, your body arching beneath his touch as his hand slid lower, slipping past your waistband. He kept his movements slow at first, testing, listening to the way your breath hitched and your hips bucked up to meet him.
“Intak…” you whispered, your voice husky, almost pleading.
That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers slid inside you, curling just right as his thumb worked slow, deliberate circles over your clit. You gasped, clutching his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.
He kissed you softly, muffling your moans as he worked you open, steady and patient, until you were trembling beneath him. Every twitch, every gasp only spurred him on, his chest tightening at how wrecked you looked — for him, because of him.
Your legs quivered, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Then with one more curl of his fingers and a hard flick of his thumb, you came undone, muffling your cry against his chest as your whole body shook with release.
Intak held you through it, slowing his movements until you collapsed back against the pillow, panting, your skin damp with sweat.
He pulled his hand back, smirking faintly, his own arousal straining painfully against his pants. “Your turn to—” he started, ready to guide you down to him.
But when he looked down, your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths.
You were out. Completely asleep.
“…are you kidding me?” Intak whispered, staring at your slack features in disbelief.
He groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder with a muffled curse. His hips shifted against the mattress, throbbing with need, and he muttered into your skin, “I hate you. You pass out now?”
You mumbled something incoherent in your sleep, curling closer into him like a satisfied cat.
Intak exhaled sharply, half in frustration, half in reluctant amusement. He pressed a kiss to your hair, grumbling, “You’re the worst,” before flopping onto his back beside you, staring at the ceiling in defeat.
Summary: You can't sleep, kept awake due to past trauma. So your lovers have their ways to calm you down
This fic has: traumatized!insomniac!reader, past sexual assault trauma, Lucifer + Vox + Alastor x reader. Implied PTSD!reader, fluffy content
You're awake. In bed. At 4 in the morning.
You can't sleep, not with the haunting feeling of something, something - someone touching you, your breathing gets shallow.
Trying to get away from it, you tear away the blankets that suffocate you, tumbling out of bed and onto the floor. You startle your lovers at first, but they settle, recognizing the haunted look on your face.
“I-I” you stutter far too much for your liking, you take a breath and start again. “I'm sorry. I just couldn't stand it - I could just.. feel. It.”
Lucifer is the first to move, sitting next to you but not touching. He learned not to touch the hard way.
You sniffle, watching as his face comes into view. His tilted his body at an awkward angle to look at you. He smiles softly, “it's not your fault, apple pie, I'm just sorry you have to go through this..”
Alastor joins you two, kneeling, with tissues to clean yourself up. And words of comfort.. in his own twisted way.
Lucifer gives you something to distract yourself if that doesn't work, and Vox?
He plays whatever music you want, no half-hearted complaining included, and offers deep pressure therapy in the form of hugs.
You don't sleep that night, but you do have a good time not remembering anything else for a while.
This author doesn't have a taglist yet, you can request to be on it though!
Notes: I wrote this because I couldn't sleep. Turns out writing your thoughts makes nights easier, folks! Also, I feel like Al would understand better, whether you like the "Al was abused as a kid!" Theory, I still think he'd get it, y'know? Cuz men in his time were horrible, and I can see him being a comfortable space for women to lean on (not literally lol) and talk to
For those out there struggling to sleep, I present to you...
Synopsis:
An elf from Rivendell, you eagerly joined the fellowship. However, many harrowing months into your journey, you constantly find yourself struggling to sleep.
Maybe a confession and a certain blond elf can help soothe your insomnia...
Legolas x gender-neutral elf!reader
No use of y/n
Prequel to Romantic Inclinations, but can also be read as a one-shot
Want to feel truly immersed? Listen while you read
Encampment | Forest Sounds
Content Warnings:
Spice scale: it’s spicy…but like it could also be spicier
Intimate physical touch + allusions to more
Word Count:
1.5k words
Translation Dictionary:
Meleth Nín = My Love
Mellon Nín = My friend
Aman = Blessed Land
⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚
On tumultuous nights in which Legolas would undertake watch, the Fellowship and seemingly the entire forest would fall into a deep, weary slumber. Despite dozing constantly during your trek across the foothills, much to Gimli's envy, when day finally welcomed the night your worries continued plaguing your mind. You had laid staring up at the stars, knowing exactly which ones would lead you home to Rivendell. Despite the stick digging into your shoulders, it wasn't the thought of a snug bed and safe fire that tempted you, but rather those that you'd left behind. Before you joined the fellowship, there had been whispers of exodus. In the moment you had been hungry for adventure, ignoring the signs, but what if you'd made a mistake? You couldn't help but picture your kin sailing to the Grey Havens, escaping the torment that kept you from a good night's rest.
"Having trouble?" a kindly voice whispered. You briskly shot up, turning towards the source.
He sat back to a tree, vigilantly carving away at a piece of wood with his dagger. Despite your weapons lying comfortably around you; daggers by your ankle and spear by your side, Legolas's bow and quiver remained strapped to his back.
"Well that can't be comfortable," you teased, imagining the feel of a bow poking into your back. Suddenly you felt better about the stick.
"I could say the same thing about your arrangement," his head pointed towards your spot on the floor, eyes transfixed on his work.
"Hm, touché," you smirked, a pleasant silence falling between you.
The woods were immensely calm; the stridulation of insects a harmonious melody drowned out by a singular frog and its stark croak. The tranquility reflected in your companions, whose soft huffs of air you could hear below the crackling of the firewood. Maybe it was your expansive hearing that kept you from a restful sleep. You suddenly couldn't help but envy your newfound friends. Your thoughts were interrupted by the carving of wood as Legolas began to struggle with a corner, sawing forcefully at the bark.
"And what, exactly, are you making at this ungodly hour?" You stared at him with the corner of your eye, feigning annoyance.
"Wouldn't you like to know," the sawing continued.
"Mhm, what an astute observation" you mocked, standing and taking your place next to him, letting your head rest against the tree's homely bark.
After only a few weeks spent together you and Legolas had become settled in each other's presence. Through all of your teasing, you found it incredibly difficult to find anything about him to dislike. This unnerved you in a way, that is, how effortlessly you felt yourself falling for the princeling.
The silence returned once more, but the sawing had halted. You turned your head, finding Legolas already staring at you. His eyes were fawn-like and the tips of his ears began turning pink. Despite his curious embarrassment at being caught, he didn't shy away.
"What's on your mind?" you can feel your cheeks blossoming as the question leaves your mouth, your effort to prevent the blush only making it worse.
"How about you tell me what's keeping you from a good-night's rest," his eyes shone with genuine concern as he returned to his work. You felt the tension loosening, your playful demeanor returning once more.
"And what do I get for revealing such a thing, Prince?" You crossed your arms as if it could shield your fluttering heart.
"Whatever you want," the string was being pulled tighter once more.
You tried to keep your composure, confused as to how he was flustering you so.
"How about...you tell me what you're carving and why?" His eyes seemed to widen nervously at your proposal, only adding to your curiosity.
"Hmph, deal," he reached out his hand, and you leisurely reached your hand out. His handshake was gentle and his palms sweaty.
"But earnestly, mellon nín, what is plaguing you?" he said softer than before, suddenly aware of the others sleeping around the fire.
A sigh escaped your chest before you even registered it. You never told anyone about your troubles, and yet somehow it felt natural with Legolas. You weren't sure how much to say.
"I just...haven't found my sleep to be restful. Not since we left-," you swallowed hard.
You glanced at him as you attempted to compose yourself, expecting him to encourage you with his words. But he sat silently, knowing present in the depth of his stare.
He silently nodded, urging you to continue speaking.
You continued.
"When we first left, I had no hesitancy. And yet, as we continue, both our struggles here and those at home...trouble me," a breath enters your lungs.
"I anticipated that this journey would be difficult, yes, but not impossible. The latter grows more apparent every day," you worried as to his response, and suddenly you found the ground to be rather intriguing. You began sifting the dirt through your fingers, soothing yourself as your cheeks turned red in shame. It was unlike you, let alone any elf, to be so vulnerable with another.
Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder; urging you to look up. Legolas's face came into view, eyes soft and glowing with firelight.
"I'm glad I am not the only one who feels this uncertainty," he smirked, though his eyes appeared more sorrowful than anything. You breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing all at once.
"We're not meant to lose hope at the prospect of another day not appearing before us-" He halted himself.
"-But, if it's any consolation, I'm glad my last day would be spent amongst all of these wonderful individuals," you chuckled at his words, fighting back a tear. "And if I could visit Aman with anyone...," he paused, seeming to collect his thoughts.
"...I would want it to be with you," his eyes lingered on your face, his demeanor more nervous than you had ever witnessed.
He searched your face for any sign. Disdain, perhaps? Or maybe acceptance.
Your breathing hitched as his eyes dipped down to your lips. Your arms could no longer muffle the sound of your hammering heart.
You were suddenly made aware of the hand on your shoulder, the way Legolas's hair seemed to burn more so than glow, the way his eyes sparkled with moonlight as they looked at you with the reverence of a thousand worshippers.
"Seems we have the same wish," you said quietly. Your words lingered as neither of you moved. Legolas sat motionless, not wanting to back away...or overstep.
You noticed.
Raising your hand to his cheek, you steadily moved your face closer to his. Your lips lingered over his for a second, before you moved back slightly; glimpsing into his eyes, searching for permission, before returning fluidly to his lips.
His lips encompassed your bottom lip gently, before pulling back to look at you. Your heart fluttered as he peered at you with an indescribable sense of wonder; impressing a sense of fey upon him. A smirk appeared on his face as he leaned back into your chest, his lips smashing against yours.
You could feel the string in your heart snap, all semblance of control leaving your body.
His arms wound around the back of your neck, and without a thought you moved your legs around his waist; straddling him as his back was pressed against the tree.
A small grunt escaped his lips as your hips gently made contact with his, the angles of his face sharp beneath your calloused fingertips. He gently pried your hands from his face as his lips trailed down your cheek,
then your jawline-
and then to your barely exposed neck.
You let out an audible gasp as his teeth gently bit into your skin, your hands finding their place in his hair. Legolas began shifting his hips, a pleasurable moan escaping your lips.
"SHHH," the sound emanated from the campfire.
His face leapt away from your neck, searching for the source.
Your hand covered your mouth as you fought back a roaring bout of laughter. Legolas's face was blooming as he held his breath.
Had they heard you? If Gimli had spotted the two of you neither of you would hear the end of it.
You both waited for a moment, searching for any sign of movement amongst your supposedly slumbering friends.
You couldn't believe what just happened. Next time, you resolved to find a more private location.
You let out a sigh, slumping into his chest; arms wounding around his neck as his arms found their way around your waist.
"So...who taught you that," you whispered, giggling to yourself at the thought of his lips on your neck...the claim his teeth had made on your skin.
"A certain, close source, that I shall not divulge," his hot breath lingered on your ear, his voice coarse.
"Hm, Aragorn is some mentor”
"I hope you don't mind, meleth nín,"
"Not in the slightest-" you pulled back slightly, forehead resting against his.
"-I shall wear it like a badge of honor," you kissed him on the forehead.
A certain twinkle shone in Legolas's eyes as he leaned in to kiss the bite mark with enough gentleness to make you cry yet again.
"I think we may awaken the entire forest if we continue," a blush formed on your cheeks.
"Let's get some rest then," he smiled, his cheeks painted crimson at the thought.
You stood slightly, unwinding your legs from his hips. You slid to the floor, resting your head on his now outstretched legs. Without a word, he grabbed the blanket from his side, placing it around your drowsy form.
Legolas began to hum an unfamiliar tune, fingers making lazy strokes across your face. All you could hear was his steady heartbeat and voice, drowning out all else.
Your heart swelled with warmth as you fell asleep in Legolas's arms for the first time.
✩✩✩✩
If you have any criticisms or requests please send them my way! Have a restful day/evening <3
thank you for the tag @renegadeknight and sorry to everyone who has tagged me in a wip wednesday or sneak peek sunday in the last few weeks that i have missed lmao it was not intentional, life just kept getting away from me
here's a lil look at insomnia fic
it is, in theory, just a couple thousand words and a round of editing from completion
np tags sorry if you were already tagged once: @bumblepony @captainredspade @dancingonmoonbeams @femmefacetious @ketchupchipsaregross
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Titans (TV 2018)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Characters: Koriand'r (DCU), Dick Grayson, Garfield Logan, Rachel Roth, Tim Drake
Additional Tags: titanstober 2023, I can't write horror but here damn, this could actually be something but my mind is elsewhere, imagine if something like this actually happened, like a real ass possession, not five seconds of bullshit and colored contacts, Demonic Possession, Halloween Challenge
Summary:
The night terrors aren't done with Kory yet.
Here’s my first entry into Titanstober 2023! Something short and sweet and a little spooky! I hope y’all enjoy it 💜🖤🦇
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader (Platonic/romantic, you decide)
Words: 4.2K
Summary: After coming back home from Pakistan and the aftermaths of his decisions, Aaron's pushing his own limits further and further until the break. Angst + hurt/comfort.
Warning: Mentions of food and eating, skipping meals. Sleep issues and nightmares and weight loss. Self harm in the form of self neglect.
A/N: Wrote 85% of this story middle of the night while struggling with insomnia myself. So, if you find some errors, let me know.
Insomnia
The guilt of it all was getting to him.
It’s been a couple of weeks now that he’s returned from Pakistan. It’s been a couple of weeks now that he and his team finally caught Ian Doyle. Couple of weeks since he’s had to come clean to his family about faking the death of their friend. Only a handful of people knew about the operation of Emily fleeing in France when everyone thought she had died on the operating table.
The team was coping as well as one would expect. For seven months, they’ve had to mourn the death of a friend. He’s listened to them, he’s been a shoulder to cry on. And the whole time, he knew the truth, but was unable to tell anyone.
God, did he want to. I didn’t feel right to comfort Spencer, hear him cry and worry about him relapsing. Or see the sadness in Derek, who tried to mask it the best he could. But Aaron could tell, all the late night boxing sessions were his way of dealing with the anger of not being able to help his friend. Penelope, who would eventually talk about her with joy in her voice, only to be stopped by grief moments later, realizing that she’d never hear Emily’s laugh again. David, who’s lost a lot of friends over the years, but this one hurt him possibly the hardest.
But most importantly, you. His best friend for several years now. You lost your close friend and felt lost by the grief. You had helped him with everything after Haley’s death, and here he is; lying to you about the death of their friend. He’s been comforting you, listening to you cry late at night of how you miss her and how you’re not sure how to move forward.
What about himself? Dealing with the grief of his team and at the end of the day he’ll go home to his son, with whom he’s still trying to figure out a way to deal with their own day to day life. He’s been a single father for less than two years now. And he feels like he’s failing. He and his son, still trying to adjust to their own lives, without the boy’s mother in it.
When he was offered the assignment in Pakistan, he thought it was a good idea. He’d get a chance to distance himself from everything momentarily. He’d get something else to work on, he’d get a distraction. And at first, it felt good. Work there was so different. It was intense, at times quick paced which helped keep his mind occupied. And at the end of the day, he’d be so tired that sleep came almost easily.
But what he didn’t realize was that for days at a time, he’d forget to eat. He’d be out in the sun all day and just barely drink enough water. He’d be active all day, running a task force is not an easy job to do, not to mention when you’re dehydrated and malnourished. He hadn’t realized how much weight he’d lost before he got back home.
Now that he’s home, he’s tried to get back to the habit of eating enough. Dinner is the easiest. At that point he usually is hungry and he has to cook for his son anyway, so he might as well eat aswell. But he finds himself skipping breakfast more and more often, just drinking a cup of coffee or two on his way to work. Lunch slides into later and later into the day, until it feels pointless to eat as dinner is already in a few hours. And now that he’s back in the field with his team, even dinner doesn’t seem that important.
It’s Friday night. Actually, more like Saturday morning, but time doesn’t seem to make much sense at this point. Aaron’s working in his home office. Papers and files are filling most of the surface, a laptop in the middle of it all.
Ever since the passing of Erin Strauss, the section chief, the bureau has been handing Unit Chief Hotchner more and more paperwork to stay on top of, until a new section chief is being selected. They even offered him the position, but he doesn’t feel like he’s ready or willing for that title. It has its perks, but Aaron enjoys his current job.
Aaron picks up his phone as he realizes one case report hasn’t made it to his hands. The team had returned from a case previously that day, and he was eager to get it finished as soon as possible. He stops for a moment, thinking if he should ask you about the file and disturb your evening, or wait until the morning. But he types it anyway, not expecting an answer any time soon:
Hotchner: Hey (y/n). Just noticed I haven’t yet received your case report. Please, get it for me asap. 1:55AM
He turns back to his computer, but is soon interrupted by a silent ‘bing’ from his phone.
You: Geez, Hotch. Why are you working at this hour? On a Saturday? Can’t it wait until Monday? 2:02AM
He tries to come up with a good excuse, but everything falls flat. Even if he himself is convinced that he has to work. Has to keep himself busy. But he knows you’re not going to be convinced, no matter what the excuse was.
Hotchner: Couldn’t sleep. I want to finish this case as soon as possible. Could you bring it over when you can? What’s your excuse for being up at this hour? 2:03AM
A million things in his agenda, he gets out of his chair. His legs feel tingly as he’s been sitting for hours on end. It feels refreshing to stretch them a little bit. He walks to the kitchen and prepares himself another cup of coffee and then returns to his office. He picks up his phone as he realizes the screen is on, notifying him of a new message.
You: Sure thing, boss ;) I fell asleep on the couch. You know, like humans tend to do. I am more and more convinced you’re a robot hybrid or somethn. I’ll bring it over first thing in the morning. You better sleep before it. Or else… 2:07AM
He finds himself chuckling at your text. It felt good, lighthearted. Not exactly a feeling he gets that often.
Hotchner: Or else what? 2:07AM
You: Don’t make me threaten you. Sleep. Now! I’ll see ya in the morning 2:08AM
He texts you one last time, wishing you goodnight before turning his phone screen down and turning his focus back to the files in front of him.
~~~~
The beams of sun disturb your comfortable slumber. You shift to your back, groan filling the quiet room. Coming home to your own bed after a case is always great. It’s so much more comfortable than any motel or hotel bed you find yourself sleeping on whenever you’re away.
You go to pick up your phone, checking if Aaron had continued to text you. To your relief, there were no missed messages from him, maybe he’d taken your advice and went to bed. He, if someone needs a good night of sleep.
It’s been a hard year for everyone. The whole team has gone through a lot of changes and dealt with loss. JJ leaving for the Pentagon, Emily’s death on top of the horrifying things you see at work every day. It also hasn’t been that long since Aaron lost his ex wife, since Jack lost his mother. They’re coping, day by day. And you’re glad that he lets you and Jess help them out.
For a moment, you were upset with Aaron. But at the same time, you understand why he did it. It was for Emily’s protection. And you know that it was eating him up, not being able to tell anyone, having to lie and help people grief over the death of a friend, grief over his lie. So, you forgave him almost immediately, seeing your friend safe and healthy was the most important thing.
You’ve also missed your best friend, since he was gone. It was great to have him back, physically. Sure you’ve facetimed with him many times while he was away, but nothing beats the real thing. Altho, the condition he came back in, wasn’t the optimal. He’s clearly lost a significant amount of weight, he looked beyond exhausted and his eyes felt burdened. More than usually, that is.
You hop inside your shower, letting the warm water work as a wakeup call for you. Steam filled the bathroom quickly, making it extra warm and cozy. When you’re done, you hop into your clothes and decide to check up on your friend and bring him the file he was missing and hopefully convince him to grab some breakfast downtown.
The two of you live rather close to each other, only a 10 minute ride away, 5 minutes without traffic. You’ve been to his place probably a million times before. So much it has turned into a second home almost. You love helping with Jack and movie nights with Aaron are the coziest way to spend a Sunday evening.
You gently knock on his apartment’s door. Quiet enough to be heard, if he’s awake, but not loud enough to wake him if he’s dozed off. You’ve got a key after all. After a second knock, you let yourself in and you’re met with total silence. All the lights are off, sunlight more than enough to light your way.
You leave your shoes by the door and tiptoe around his apartment. “Aaron?” you call for him silently. The kitchen is empty altho the coffee pot is half full. You check the living room, also empty. Finding your way to Jack’s room, only to find it deserted as well. A bad feeling starts to grow within you, you’re not yet sure what’s causing it. You push open the ajared door leading to Aaron’s bedroom. The sheets were messy, implying that someone has at some point been underneath them.
But knowing Aaron, you find it strange that he hasn’t made the bed yet, if he’s gotten up. He loves his surroundings to be neat and organized and leaving the bed a mess was out of character for him.
“Aaron?” you call for him again, slightly louder this time. The bathroom door is open and the lights are off, so he’s most unlikely there. You turn around and try to think of different scenarios in your head. Maybe he’d gone out for a run, or taken Jack to the park. Or maybe Jack is still at Jessica’s, as it was rather late the team had returned home.
You see Aaron’s running shoes by the door and your heart sinks. So that option’s out of the window. “Aaron?” a hint of panic raises in your voice as you call out for your friend. You hurry to check the last room, his home office. As you get closer to the door, you notice a faint beam of light shining inside the room, most likely his desk lamp.
You slowly push the door open and gently call out for him again. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you spot him. He’s laying on the floor, a few papers down with him. He’s on his back, eyes tightly closed.
“Aaron!” you shout as you rush beside him. Your eyes immediately go to search for signs of blood or other kinds of injury. But you don’t seem to find any. You gently nudge him from his shoulders, but that doesn’t change anything. You drag his chair closer to him and prop up his legs. Instinctively, the back of your hand finds his forehead to check his temperature. He’s slightly warmer than usual, maybe running a small fever. Your observation gets clearer as you see small drops of sweat glistening on his temples. “God damn it with you” you mutter and raise to your feet.
You retrieve a small towel and wet it with cold water. With a brisk pace you return to him and press the towel over his forehead and neck. It seems to be working as you see a little twitch on his lips.
“Cold” he stutters, eyes still firmly closed.
“I know. Can you open your eyes for me?” you try to stay as calm as you can, trying to think if you should call for an ambulance or not. Slowly, the man’s able to open his eyes, his pupils at first unable to focus on one spot. Once the man’s focus seems to be on you, you offer him a gentle smile “There you are. Got me worried for a sec there”.
“What are” he clears his throat. His voice is raspy and even deeper than what you’re used to “what are you doing here?” he asks again, once he’s able to form a full sentence.
“I could ask you the same thing, mister. Why on earth are you on the floor?”
The confusion on his face was almost comical. For a man with few facial expressions, he sure as hell looked confused by your sentence, as if you were speaking tongues. If the situation wasn’t as serious as this one, you would have laughed. He raises to his forearms, leaning back and even that seems to be rough for his balance. “That’s a good question” he said, more to himself than to you.
“What happened?” you ask him. He shakes his head. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
It takes a moment for him to answer. He tries to prop himself up for a better position. He lowers his legs from the chair and crosses them underneath him as he sits up. His balance still seems untrustworthy, so you keep your eyes on him the whole time, just in case he needs help. “I just wanted to finish a few things before Jack would get home,” he explains, not exactly answering your question. “I think it was almost 8 when I got up from my desk”.
You check your phone, it’s only 8.30, so at least he hasn’t been like this the whole night. He looks alright, for a man who collapsed onto the floor moments prior. His gaze seems hazy at times, if he moves his head too fast and it’s causing issues with his balance. “How are you feeling?” you ask him and of course he claims to be fine at first. You shoot him a look, trying to mimic his stern look and possibly failing miserably. “If you’re fine, then I guess you’ll have no problem getting up, huh?” you go to challenge him and his claim.
With a moment of consideration, he raises to his knees. A look on his face is focused as he tries to keep his balance. Aaron reaches out to grab your hand you were holding out to him. His palm is sweaty and clammy, but you don’t mind. It’s clear that his head is having issues as he stands up properly. He’s tall and heavy and you’re praying he doesn’t collapse again. Maybe challenging him was a bit too soon.
Aaron slightly reels back, and your reflexes go to grab him by his arms to steady him. “Still with me?” you ask, looking in his eyes, trying to find his focus. It takes a moment, but he ends up nodding as an answer. “Alright. Let’s get you to the couch”.
With slow and steady steps, you help him to lay down on his big couch in the living room. He grunts as he lowers himself to the cushions and curses his back that’s going to be in pain for days after this. A part of him is embarrassed that you’d found him in such a weak moment, but at the same time, he is grateful. He trusts his life in your hands any day of the week and even if he’s not ready to admit it to himself, it feels nice to have someone looking after him. He prefers having you around rather than anyone else.
“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” you question, already preparing for the worst possible answer. It takes a moment for him to think back to it, which in itself is a bad sign “If you have to think about it so hard, it’s been way, way too long” you leap to the kitchen and find something for him to eat. You hear him shuffling on the couch, trying to get up. “Don’t you dare get up” you raise your voice at him, but not in a mean way. But you can’t help but get frustrated at the man. He’s a smart man, but at times, he’s a dumbass. “Aaron. Please lay down” you soften your tone and for your luck it works. With a sigh, he lays his head back down.
“You don’t have to do this (y/n)” he tries to protest, but not giving it his full attempt. He knows it’s a losing battle if he tries to argue with you about this. But at least he can say he tried.
“Tough. I’m going to do it anyway, and you’re just gonna have to deal with it” you tell him and prepare a bowl of oatmeal and cut up some fruit. It’s quick and easy, something that would be easy for him to get down. You fill up a tall glass of water and bring them over to him. “Eat. And don’t you dare argue with me”.
Instead of protesting, he takes the warm bowl in his hands. “Thank you” he offers you a tired smile and you can’t stay frustrated with him. He looks weak, like he’s gone through way too much and doesn’t know what to do.
“How long has it been going on?” you ask him once he’s almost done with his food. He looks at you, puzzled. “How long have you had issues with sleep?”.
Once you specify your question, he turns to look down in his bowl. “Ever since I got back” it takes a lot out of him to admit that. To say it out loud that he is, in fact, struggling. “Honestly, after Emily’s…” he cuts at the middle of his sentence. He’s struggled ever since his decision, hearing his friends’ voices in his head, talking about the loss of their friend. “The assignment helped momentarily, I was thoroughly exhausted in Pakistan and it was easier to fall asleep after a day in heat. But once I got back”.
You sigh, your heart breaks for the man next to you. He feels like he needs to carry the whole world on his shoulders, all alone. And it’s a heavy burden to carry.
“But once I got back, it’s only gotten worse” he continues to explain, wording things out to make sense. Both to you and to himself. “I feel like I’ve failed” you can hear his voice break and you try your best to stay strong for him, comfort him for a change. You want to interrupt him right away, tell him that he’s not failed anyone, but you stay quiet and listen to him explain. “The team, the whole bureau. Jack and Jess. You.” he sighs, letting his walls crumble down. “I had to make the decision to keep Emily safe. But being there for everyone, trying to offer comfort when feeling guilty over the decision. And ever since I got back home, I feel like a failure as a father. In a way, I’ve always felt that way, but I was gone for months, when I have already missed so much of his childhood”.
Tears start to fall down his cheeks and they make him stop speaking. He tries to shake his head, make them go away, but it doesn’t work. They keep flooding his eyes and he curses his body, how it feels like failing him in every way. You take the empty bowl from his hand and place it on the living room table. You slide closer to him and wrap your hands around him. He doesn’t protest your effort of pulling him close.
“I’m so sorry I’ve let you all down” he sniffles to the crook of your neck. “I’ve failed the whole team as a leader and as a friend. I’ve failed Jack as a father. I’m so tired. I’m just so tired, (y/n)” Aaron sighs and rests his forehead on your shoulder. Tears fall down on your shirt as the man silently sobs.
You calmly run your fingers through the man’s back and hair as you hold him. You’re glad he’s able to let these emotions out and be vulnerable around you. But it never fails to shatter your heart in pieces, watching the strongest man you know, letting his wall down and fall down. “You haven’t let anyone down, Aaron” you try to use the best words to help him actually understand how much people appreciate him and how much people look up to him. “What comes to Emily: You did what you had to do. You did what any good team leader would do, to protect one of their own. And it worked! She’s alive, Aaron. And we managed to hunt down the man after her. The team is strong, because it has such a good man leading our way”.
“I’m everything but that” he protests and pulls away from your embrace. His big hands go to wipe away the tears on his cheeks, even if new ones keep joining them moments later.
“Aaron Hotchner, you are a good man” you punctuate every word, hoping that maybe you’ll get through to him. “You are an amazing boss and an amazing friend. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to listen to everyone mourn over the death of their friend. Me included. But the fact that everyone feels comfortable coming to you for comfort, is a sign that you’ve done everything right. Everyone is able to talk to you, without fear of being judged or dismissed. The way you value everyone as an individual, it never fails to amaze me”. You continue, expecting more objections from him.
He looks deep in your eyes with a pleading look. He wants to believe you, he really does. But he’s tired, he’s sick and his head feels like it’s filled with concrete. So at the moment, anything positive was hard to find, and even harder to comprehend.
“And what comes to Jack” you change the subject and it breaks your heart even more. You know how much the man loves and admires his son. How much he wants to provide a safe and loving environment for him, the one he never had as a child. And knowing how highly of his son speaks of his super hero. “You are his world. You are his hero. That isn’t going to change. It’s clear, to everyone, that you shower him with love and give him the tools and the environment to grow and enjoy his childhood. Explore the world and truly be his own person. You make him feel safe and valued. Everyone who’s ever crossed paths with that boy sees it”.
Aaron scoffs at you. He wants to believe it, but he’s blinded by his own fear of turning into his own father.
“You are a good father, Aaron. You are a good man, and even if I need to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, so be it”.
He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t fully believe you, but he’s way too exhausted to argue with you. So, he falls quiet, trying to let the words sink in.
You hand him the glass of water and stare at him until he’s finished every last drop of it. “Please lay down. You need to get some sleep” your tone falls softer and more quiet. You turn the tv on and on at a low volume. Not too loud and distracting, but enough to play in the background.
You pat your thigh with your hand. The man’s hesitant, but after a moment, he lays his head down on your lap. You help spread a blanket over him and go to run your fingers through his hair. The motion is soothing and in no time Aaron feels comfortable enough to close his eyes.
Few minutes go by in silence, only the tv running in the background. “(Y/N)?” Aaron whispers, gaining your full attention once again. You hum as a sign of your attention. “Can you stay with me?”
“I’m not going anywhere” you assure him. Within minutes, the man’s far gone in dreamland. You continue to play with his soft hair. Your heart feels like it is bursting. It’s filled with so much love towards the man on your lap and it aches with the burden of his. It’s filled with joy as the man feels comfortable being vulnerable around you and wanting you to stay by his side. “I wish I could somehow make you understand how worthy of love you really are” you whisper, looking down at the sleeping man. You lean to kiss his forehead “But I sure as hell am going to try my hardest”.
Taglist: @ssahotchsbitch @mayasreadingnook @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @ssamorganhotchner @kajjaka @reidsbookmark @thenewnormalforensicator @wheelsupkels @thedancingnerdmermaid @agirlinherhead @tonystarkscumslutz @haley-h0tchner ( mention or message me if you want to be added)
Can I request a Nikolai Lantsov x fem reader with prompt #4 “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”, please?
Thank you, you're brilliant! 💜
Of course! Thank you so much for the request, Rosie!
Ok, so I may have gone a little overboard with this...I hope you like it, Nikolai is quite hard to write about.
Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Reader
Prompts: 4 (”Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”)
Warnings: fluff, insomnia, overthinking
Word count: 1279
What's best for Ravka
It had been hours since you laid down on your shared bed with your boyfriend and you hadn’t gotten one ounce of sleep. Ever since you were a kid, you had trouble sleeping. You usually started the night tossing and turning, you’d get up and make some tea, lay back down, flip your pillow and, if nothing worked, you’d sit on the couch with a good book to read awaiting morning. It wasn’t until you started sleeping with Nikolai that it got better. Something about his warmth and the comfort you found in it lulled you to sleep every night, but so many thoughts rushed around mind for the past few of days that you simply couldn’t find sleep.
Careful not to wake him, you slowly untangled yourself from Nikolai’s sleeping figure and walked out of the room, grabbing your book, putting on his dress shirt and a coat in the process. You made your way through the Spinning Wheel to the part of the observatory where you could see the mountains and the stars. Everyone was already asleep so you didn’t need to worry about your attire or posture. You slumped down on the floor and opened the book to the last page you read, but you couldn’t seem to concentrate. After reading the same sentence for the tenth time, you closed it and put it down beside you. Pulling your coat closer around your body, you looked at the sky and you let yourself worry about your future.
What happens if the Darkling finds us?
Will we truly be able to end the fold?
How many more people have to die before we cease this?
Will Nikolai and Alina marry? ... what about me?
You had already talked to your boyfriend about this, he seems to think it’s what’s best for the kingdom, to have a saint ruling beside him. He says it will be strictly political and that his heart will always be yours. But I’d be the other woman, wouldn’t I? you couldn’t help but think. Our children would not be recognized as truly his. And what of his children with her? He would have to sire an heir, wouldn’t he?
You knew he loved you, you knew it was best for Ravka, but you couldn’t help the ache in your chest as you imagined your Nikolai kissing her, loving her, marrying her and you being left behind, unwanted and forgotten. Who would want you if he could have a saint?
You were so distracted, you didn’t even notice Nikolai walk in until he was sitting down beside you. “What troubles you, my love?”
You faked a smile and said “Nothing, moi tsarevich, or should I say moi tsar?.” Referring to his father abdicating and sailing the Southern Colonies.
“Darling, I know I’m damnably handsome, but that doesn’t mean I’m not smart as a whip. You only call me that when something is wrong. What is it?” He smirked and you rolled your eyes at the damnably handsome comment, but you knew he was right. Nikolai was almost ethereal under the light of the moon and the stars, his bare chest on display.
“When will you propose to Alina?” with that, his whole demeanor fell apart, leaving only a frown.
“Actually... I already did.” you could hear your heart breaking as he continued. “This morning, after breakfast.”
“Oh.” was the only response you could mutter, but you forced yourself to add “Congratulations on your engagement, moi tsar.” and looked away before he could see the tears in your eyes.
“I don’t think congratulations are in order. She said no.” He replied and your gaze shot back to him, completely shocked.
“She said no? Why would she do that? Does she really think Mal is better than you?” you liked Alina, she was a nice girl, but with apparently no taste at all.
“(y/n), lapushka, do you want her to marry me or not?” he asked, voice dripping with humour.
“It’s what’s best for Ravka.” you answered. Even though he knew it, you couldn’t reveal the truth. You couldn’t simply tell him not to do the best for his kingdom just because you loved him, because you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else but him, because you thought that if he left you, you’d never love again. That would be selfish... Wouldn't it?
“Alina seems to think differently. She says that the best thing for our kingdom is for me to be happy and that it would never happen in a loveless marriage.” he reached into his pocket and pulled out the Lantsov emerald before continuing. “My mother gave this to me before she left. I tried to give it to Alina, but she said I should give it to you.”
“Nikolai I-” he put his hand up, cutting you off, and said “Before you say what I know you’re going to say, just let me tell you what I want?” you hesitated for a second before nodding.
“I want you. I don’t care that you’re not grisha, or royalty, or even a saint. I care that I have never loved anyone more than I love you. I want you to be my queen, my wife, the mother of my children, my partner for all my adventures and everything that is to come. The saints know I need you, not just for this, but for everything. I can’t even sleep without you anymore, I woke up because you weren’t there. Everytime I think of a new invention, I want to tell you. Everytime I leave a meeting, I want see you. I think of you all the time and it pains me to realise how selfish I’ve been when it comes to us. I promised you companionship and love, but I’ve been neglecting you for my kingdom, asking you to prioritize something that isn’t yours to reign. Well... yet.” He smiled softly at you, grabbing both of your hands in his. “I want us to make Ravka a better place. Together. I truly think there is no better queen than you.”
“Nikolai, I can’t be a queen! I’m not royalty, I’m not elegant, I can’t dance, I’m clumsy and awkward, the people would never accept me.” you were positive he had gone mad.
“You see, moya lyubov', being a queen is not about being royal or knowing etiquette. It’s about being brave, loving your people and doing everything in your power to make your kingdom the best place for them to live, make it feel like home. You do that to me everyday, you gave me a home, so I know you can do the same for Ravka. I want everything that is mine to be yours. My battles, my glories, my defeats, my kingdom, my heart and my soul, it’s all yours.” he adjusted himself to get on one knee, smiled at you and said “(y/n) (y/l/n), would you do me the honor of becoming my wife and queen?” you smiled, tears streaming down your face.
“Yes, Nikolai!” you exclaimed, tackling him to the floor, both of you laughing.
“Is that my shirt?” he asked, only noticing when your coat opened up a bit.
“You mean our shirt?” you remarked, smirking.
“Of course! Our shirt” he looked up at you with a soft smile before slipping the royal ring on your right hand. “Moya tsaritsa.”
“I love you, Nikolai.” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his.
“I love you more.” he smiled before pulling you both up and saying “We should go back to bed, tomorrow will be a long day with the announcement of Ravka’s queen-to-be.”
