#I think season 1 is the most dashing

[flints-silver]

okay now

[forzalando]

Seeing Someone

Lando Norris x friend!reader (female reader)

summary: Lando is finally ready to tell you how he feels when he overhears you say that you've started seeing someone - but overheard conversations aren't always what they seem. wc: 5.5k author's note: a few disclaimers: 1. let's all pretend that everyone has to spend a few weeks at MTC before the start of the season and they commute to/from London. 2. therapy and mental health help are so important - i purposefully left some things vague because people go to therapy for a variety of reasons and it should be normalized! i also didn't want things to get too heavy or potentially upset anyone by choosing to elaborate on something they relate to/hits a little too close to home. 3. this was inspired by a post i saw on my dash that said "when you said you were seeing someone i was hoping you meant a therapist". this originally started out more light-hearted, but the angst came out and i couldn't stop. feeling a little insecure about this one - thoughts and feelings in the comments/reblogs/my inbox would be so cherished and appreciated :) once again, special shoutout to @sof1shticated for being my beta reader. couldn't do this without you, Mel! warnings: mentions of reader going to therapy, mentions of reader drinking, a few curse words (i think), and angst! but there is a happy ending (even if it's a little open-ended)

Lando had searched the entirety of McLaren HQ at this point and started to worry – you were quite literally nowhere to be found. Usually, this wouldn’t phase him, since you were notorious for getting distracted or caught up in conversation with everyone you came across. You especially found ways to delay leaving MTC when you had to be there physically – the commute from HQ back to London each day was objectively the worst part of everyone coming together in the weeks leading up to each new season.

Today, however, the two of you had plans to get dinner at your favorite restaurant in London and you would never miss a chance to devour your favorite scallop risotto, cheese garlic bread, several glasses of wine, and a heaping mound of tiramisu for dessert.

He stopped speed-walking abruptly when he saw a familiar head of brown hair out of the corner of his eye.

“OSCAR,” Lando shouted, his speed-walk turning into a run. “Oscar, have you seen Y/N? She told me to meet at her office at 5:00pm but it’s 5:30pm and she is literally missing. She better have a good excuse, I hate being late.”

“Missing? Are you sure she’s not just caught up in a meeting? I saw her heading to Zak’s office around 4:45pm, did you check there?”

“Zak’s office, of course! The one place I didn’t check. Thanks, Osc, you’re the man.”

Oscar rolled his eyes – “Anytime, Lan. What are you running late for? Hot date?”

Lando didn’t miss the wiggle of Oscar’s eyebrows and slight smirk. It wasn’t a secret to the Australian that Lando had a crush on Y/N – although Lando had never confirmed or denied it, it was pretty obvious to anyone who spent more than 30 seconds around them.

“Ah, something like that,” Lando said nonchalantly, a bashful blush making its way to his cheeks.

“Good luck, mate!” Oscar threw a wave over his shoulder as he heard the retreating sound of Lando’s trainers smacking against the floor.

In truth, although you and Lando were just friends and Lando was terrified he may ruin that, he had plans to tell you about his feelings for you that night at dinner. It had been almost a year since you started working for McLaren, and almost a year of Lando pining after you in secret. He spent most days trying to convince himself he was content just being your friend, but he was determined to make 2024 his year. His first win, hopefully of many, maybe even WDC contender material, and finally plucking up the courage to be honest with you.

As Lando hurriedly approached Zak’s office, he could see that the door was slightly ajar and heard your voice trailing through the opening.

“I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, Zak. And a massive thank you for approving the time off on such late notice.”

“Anytime, Y/N, you know you’re like family to me and everyone here. You sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, I’m seeing someone. It’s still new so I’m not set on him yet but I have a really good feeling about it, I’m really starting to wish I had called him sooner. He actually suggested the days off, I’m seeing him on Tuesday and hopefully things continue to go well.”

Lando’s heart dropped to his stomach – all week he had been thinking about tonight. How to tell you, how you might react, how nervous he was, and each day he grew even more anxious. He was panicking – what was he supposed to do? How could he sit across from you all night knowing that he’d missed his chance?

“That’s so good to hear,” Zak said earnestly. “Keep me updated and enjoy your days off.”

Lando could hear chairs scraping and scrambled to leave the scene before you walked out of Zak’s office to find him eavesdropping. He got about 50 feet down the hallway before he heard your voice from behind.

“Lan,” you shouted. “I’m so sorry, I’m totally late but I had to meet with Zak about something and his last meeting went way over.”

You jogged a little to catch up to him – a bright smile on your face that made his heart rate skyrocket and his palms grow sweaty. He couldn’t see you feeling like this. Not tonight, not when he could barely keep himself from telling you that he would be a much better boyfriend than whoever you were dating.

“We still on for dinner? I grabbed everything I needed from my office before I met with Zak so if we leave right this second and ignore the speed limit, they may seat us,” you bumped his shoulder as you joked.

Unable to help himself, only thinking about how hurt he was even though you’d done nothing wrong, Lando blurted out an excuse. “Actually, I was trying to find you to tell you I can’t make it.”

He tried not to react when he saw your face fall a little, but he told himself it was because you were disappointed about the last-minute change in plans and not that he wasn’t going.

“You should still go though,” he offered quickly. “I’m sure you have someone you could take with you!”

Your eyes spotted Oscar across the hallway and you smiled slightly – it had been a while since you had spent time with him and you knew he was having a rough week.

“Yeah, I have someone in mind,” you mused, focusing your eyes back on Lando. “Is everything ok? Are you not feeling well?”

“No, I’m fine, I just forgot I have plans.”

“Well, we had plans. You scheduled over me?”

“It’s a last-minute thing. Date thing. Last-minute date thing.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “Oh, that’s great!” You plastered a fake smile on your face – hoping that he was just as oblivious now as he apparently is to your feelings. “I hope you have a great time, she’s a lucky girl! I’ll see you on Wednesday, I’m taking a couple days off!”

Before he had a chance to say anything else, you sped off in search of Oscar to bribe him to accompany you to dinner. While you set off across the room, Lando smacked himself in the forehead and groaned.

“Why did you tell her it was a date, you idiot,” he mumbled to himself. Now, it was his turn to speed walk through McLaren HQ, but if he had turned around just for a moment, he would have caught you stopped in your tracks staring at him longingly as he walked away.

You shook your head and sighed, continuing your quest to find the younger McLaren driver and rope him into an evening filled with good food and, if you were being honest with yourself, probably a few tears.

A few moments later, you spotted floppy brown hair bouncing as Oscar walked toward the employee parking lot.

“Oscar!” You yelled after him, increasing your pace to catch up to him.

“Hey,” he said, confusion evident on his face, “I thought you were going out with Lando?”

“He’s got a date,” you blurted. “He has a date and he canceled on me and it’s fine. I am fine. But I want my scallop risotto and tiramisu so you’re coming with me.”

“Sure, Y/N, lead the way.”

Oscar was, to put it extremely lightly, confused. Lando was completely enamored by you – anyone with eyes could see it. Oscar was wholly convinced that Lando was going to officially ask you out at dinner tonight, especially after the brief conversation they had while you were late to meet up with him.

Yet, here he was, sat across from you in a dimly lit room as you sipped on your third glass of wine and, with all the subtlety of a neon sign, wiped a tear from your lower lash line.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for him, I’m so happy for him. But canceling last minute is a dick move, right? It’s a dick move. I know I’m just his friend, sometimes I feel like just a colleague, but I’m not being dramatic, right?”

Oscar stared at you blankly – his eyes wide and a look of pure fear on his face. He considered himself good at most things, great at quite a few, but comforting a crying woman was bottom of the list of Oscar Piastri’s skills.

“It’s totally a dick move,” he nodded his head eagerly in agreement. “I just don’t get it – when I saw him earlier he was frantic trying to find you. I think he’d scoured the entirety of MTC, he was out of breath when I found him.”

“Well, at least he had the decency to find me and tell me in person that he planned on ditching me.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it, it didn’t seem like he was trying to find you to tell you that. He complained about being late and when I asked him if he had a hot date, he blushed.”

“He is literally on a hot date.”

“Ok, well, when I asked him I meant did he have a hot date specifically with you.”

You scoffed and set your glass down – as much as you loved Oscar and you knew he’d never judge you, if you had any more wine you’d end up sobbing and not just wiping stray tears away.

“As if! Lando has never once made a move on me even though I flirt, or at least try to flirt, with him any chance I get.”

“You flirt with Lando?”

“I made him a personalized Spotify playlist, had Stroopwafels overnighted to him from The Netherlands after Vegas, bought him a sweater for his birthday with a card that said ‘to match your eyes’, and I compliment him every time I see him.”

“That’s your idea of flirting?”

“Well, yes.”

“Y/N, that’s just being nice to people. You’re nice to everyone. Lando is not going to understand that you’re a little extra nice to him and that means you’re trying to woo him.”

You huffed and slumped in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Ok, well, how would you flirt with Lando?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that question?”

“Yes because apparently you know all about flirting! And by the way, Logan thought I was coming onto him when I was just being nice so some people would consider my actions flirtatious.”

“That doesn’t count, Logan thinks Uber drivers are flirting with him when they say ‘have a nice day’.”

You and Oscar shared a laugh at the mention of your mutual friend – somehow an even more hopeless case than you in the world of romance.

Your laughs turned to giggles and eventually died down completely. A sigh climbed its way out of your throat, the sudden change in your mood evident to Oscar.

“It doesn’t matter anyway – he’s seeing someone so no more trying, and according to you failing, to flirt.”

“You don’t know how serious it is, maybe this was a first date and it’ll go horribly. He definitely doesn’t have a girlfriend if that’s what you’re worried about, he was just saying the other day that Lily and I make him feel painfully single. We can ask him about it on Monday!”

You frowned a bit and tried to recover, but Oscar noticed the way your face fell slightly. “I’m actually taking a few days off, I need some personal time. I won’t be back at MTC until Wednesday.”

“Is everything ok? You don’t have to tell me but if you need anything, you know I’m there for you, right?”

You smiled at Oscar – it was a rare thing to find such great friends in the people you worked with, but you got so incredibly lucky with the McLaren team, especially Lando and Oscar. “I know that, Osc. You’re a gem.”

With a nod of understanding, Oscar changed the subject to something more pleasant, and you enjoyed the rest of your evening with your friend.

When Wednesday morning rolled around, you felt like your stomach might explode from nerves. You had resisted texting Lando over the past few days to ask about his date, you didn’t want to seem too eager and hoped it would come up naturally in conversation during the day. You hadn’t talked to Oscar much, though he’d texted you a few times to check in, but you wondered if he had talked to Lando at all and if he had details on how well Lando’s date went.

You arrived at MTC fairly early, hoping to get a head start on your day. Winter break was nearly over, and you were swamped with finalizing everything for the start of the 2024 season. It wasn’t until lunch that you saw Lando at all and he just so happened to be waiting in your office, sitting comfortably in your chair, while you were walking back from your latest meeting.

“Lando! What are you doing here?”

“I, uh,” he scrambled. “I was just…I don’t know really. I guess I wanted to see you, we haven’t talked in a few days since you’ve been out.”

“Well, we’ve both been busy. You could’ve texted me. How was your date?”

“It was good. Great. How about yours?”

You smiled remembering your evening with Oscar, assuming he had told Lando at some point that he had accompanied you. “Honestly so fun, we had the best time. I hope we get to do it again soon.”

Lando cringed – jealousy rearing its ugly head as he looked down at his feet before answering. “Same, I’ll probably go out with her again this weekend.”

“Good for you,” you gritted. “I’m glad you had fun. I actually have a million things to do so if there’s nothing important…”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to see you. I guess we’ll catch up soon? Hope you enjoyed your days off.”

Mustering up a fake smile, you told him definitely, awkwardly standing as he rose from your desk and left your office. As soon as he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear you, you groaned. The tension between you and Lando was unbearable, though you didn’t understand why it seemed to mostly be coming from him. Before you had a chance to think any further, you could hear your phone buzzing from inside your bag and begrudgingly pulled it out to see a text from Oscar.

did you go on a date over the weekend?

no? why are you asking me that?

well then why did lando just sit across from me and say ‘did Y/N tell you anything about her date?’

he was just in my office, I asked him how his date went and he asked about ‘mine’. i assumed he was talking about Friday and that you told him i brought you?

i never told him, i guess he thought you brought a real date?

You paused before responding to Oscar, confusion evident on your face and in your lack of response. Before you could type out a reply, two more texts came in.

ok something is up because i just told him that i went with you on friday and he said “i know, i saw you in her insta story in the reflection of a wine glass, i’m talking about yesterday”

insane that he looked close enough to see me in your wine glass but not the point

i literally haven’t been on a date in two years

let me figure this out

You slid your phone back into your bag and pulled out your laptop – your Lando problems would have to wait until you were at least somewhat caught up after missing two days so close to the start of the season.

Meanwhile, at a conference room table in MTC, Oscar was confused. Which, as of late, was a common occurrence when it came to you and Lando.

“Mate,” Oscar addressed Lando, “if you’re not talking about Friday, what date did you ask Y/N about? She hasn’t been on a date in forever.”

“Well then he must have canceled on her because she was supposed to have plans yesterday, it’s why she took days off.”

“I don’t know the exact reason why she took days off but she told me on Friday that she was and didn’t seem too happy about it. Said it was personal reasons.”

“Going on a date is personal.”

“Not ‘take two days off of work’ personal! Where are you even getting this information?”

Lando looked away sheepishly, afraid to admit to Oscar that he had eavesdropped on a private conversation between you and Zak. With Oscar looking at him expectantly, and a bit like a pissed-off Mum, he blurted it out.

“I heard her talking to Zak! Last week on Friday, when I was looking for her, she was in his office and the door was cracked. She had asked him for a couple days off and talked about how she recently started seeing someone and was seeing him again on Tuesday aka yesterday.”

Now Oscar was really confused. You had cried over Lando publicly on Friday, and he knew you fairly well, which meant there was no way you would be crying over Lando and going out with someone else four days later.

“I think you need to just talk to her because I promise you, she is not seeing someone. Also, what do you care? You ditched her for a date on Friday.”

Oscar had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Lando’s face fall.

“Lando, tell me you didn’t.”

“I might have.”

“Jesus, Lando, you heard 30 seconds of a conversation and decided to lie to her? Because what, your ego took a blow? Some caveman instinct?”

“No, I don’t know, honestly. It just slipped out! I had planned to ask her out for real and when I heard her say ‘I’m seeing someone’, I just didn’t know how to be around her. I couldn’t be around her that night.”

“You need to go talk to her. Apologize. Preferably, immediately.”

Lando jumped up from his seat and sighed. “You’re right. She might kill me, and she has every right to, but I have to talk to her and apologize to her. Wish me luck!”

Before Oscar could do what Lando had asked, Lando raced off towards your office, barely stopping himself from tripping over his own two feet.

Across MTC, you had just settled your mind and gotten into a groove of catching up on emails and making progress on deadlines. As soon as you thought to yourself that the day was going better than expected, your office door flung open and Lando Norris was standing stiff in your doorway.

“Lan, I told you that I’m busy. What is going on?” Annoyance was evident in your voice and Lando cringed knowing that this conversation was probably not going to be very pleasant.

“Why did you take time off?”

Your body straightened in shock, of all the things he could have asked you after bombarding you in your office, you wouldn’t have guessed he would pry into your personal life.

“That’s none of your business, Lando. If you were worried about me, you could have reached out, but I haven’t heard from you since you ditched me on Friday.”

Lando could see the hurt on your face, he could see it evident in your body language. He thought back to how you had looked upset immediately when he told you on Friday that he couldn’t go with you – when he told himself it had nothing to do with you wanting to spend time with him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry for that, it wasn’t – I mean I didn’t, I didn’t want to not go. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Ok, I’m totally lost. You didn’t know what to do about what, Lando?”

He steeled himself for your reaction – something he had learned by being your friend for the past year was that you held trust and truth in high regard. You didn’t like being lied to, and you didn’t like people trying to dig into your life or get information you weren’t willing to share.

“I heard you in Zak’s office. I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose, I swear, I was looking for you because you were late meeting me. Oscar told me you might be with Zak so I went there and the door was open. And I heard you. So I lied and told you that I couldn’t go to dinner, I don’t know why I said I had a date. All I could focus on was how hurt I was, I just couldn’t be around you and then I felt so stupid and terrible for lying so that’s why I didn’t text you at all.”

You were completely and utterly perplexed – you couldn’t even react with anger at the thought of Lando listening to a private conversation and outright lying to you. What could he have overheard that he was so upset about?

“Lando, I’m still confused. What did you hear? How did I hurt you?”

“No, no, you didn’t hurt me. You have no idea how I feel about you – I was going to tell you that night.” Lando was word-vomiting at this point, he never wanted you to find out this way but he couldn’t stop rambling. “I have had feelings for you for so long, and I finally decided that I was going to tell you even if I was convinced you don’t feel the same. And now I know you don’t because you’re seeing someone and – ��

You interrupted him sternly, allowing the anger you were feeling to come forth and shoving down your confusion. “I’m not dating anyone? Is that why you asked Oscar about my ‘date’? Where did you get that idea?”

“You told Zak that you’re seeing someone and that it’s new but things are going good. I heard you say you were seeing him again on Tuesday.”

Your eyes doubled in size – if you weren’t so pissed off, you might have found humor in this, but you felt heat rising to your cheeks and your stomach churned at the thought of divulging your personal struggles.

“Lando, I’m seeing a therapist,” you hissed.

He froze for a moment, then scrambled to shut your door which was still ajar from him barging in.

“A therapist? Are you okay? What’s going on, why didn’t you tell me that you’ve been struggling?”

“No, no, you don’t get to do this right now. You don’t get to make me less angry by being kind and caring.”

“I’m not doing it to make you less angry, Y/N, I genuinely – ”

“I don’t care, Lando! You eavesdropped on my private conversation, misunderstood the context of that conversation, and then you lied to me. You hurt me. And now, because you got your feelings hurt and did things you shouldn’t have done, I have to share something I wasn’t comfortable sharing with you just yet.”

Lando was speechless – you could see the remorse on his face, the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, but in that moment you wanted him to feel even worse than you were.

“And you want to know the worst part,” you cried. “I feel the same way about you. I cried to Oscar at dinner because I thought you were with someone else, that you would have rather been at dinner with a different girl.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Can we please just go somewhere and talk? Really talk this out? I know I messed up, but this doesn’t have to change things or how we feel about each other.”

You wanted to, god, did you want to – you knew Lando hadn’t done any of this on purpose. You knew he didn’t have malicious intent and you knew how hurt he probably felt at the idea of you being with someone – it was exactly the way you felt when you thought the same about him.

“I think you should go, Lan”. Despite every part of you wanting to sit and talk, you knew that you needed some time to settle down.

“Ok,” he whispered. “When you’re ready,” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, “if you’re ever ready, you know where to find me.”

His posture made you feel sick as he left your office – Lando was always confident, shoulders back and head held high, but as you watched him through the glass walls surrounding you, he was hunched over. Dejected. You’d only ever seen him that way a few times – after he was torn apart by the media or after making a mistake during a race.

It hurt you to see him that way. But, he had also hurt you, and you needed time.

It had been two weeks since “the incident” with Lando – that’s what Oscar started calling it and it stuck. Fight felt too strong, disagreement felt too weak, so it became something nameless. Undefined. Indeterminate. Exactly like what existed now between you and Lando.

Oscar and Lando were set to leave for Sakhir in a week and you wouldn’t see them again until you joined the team for the Australian GP. If you didn’t work things out with Lando before they left for testing, it would be well over a month without a resolution.

The thought made your eyes burn with tears – you were still upset but more than that you missed Lando. You didn’t even have to wonder if he felt the same because you’d seen him around MTC. He looked just as awful as you, if not worse, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to start a conversation.

You began packing up your things to leave the office, grateful beyond belief that it was a Friday and you’d have two days without seeing Lando’s familiar curls everywhere you turned. At least at home, you would only see them behind closed eyes and wouldn’t have to blink back tears.

A knock at your door startled you, but you assumed it was your team lead looking for your latest analytics report. At least there was one thing you could be happy about – the car data was phenomenal and all signs were pointing to an amazing season for McLaren.

You told whoever was knocking to come in, not looking up from your bag as you rifled through your files. “So sorry, Tom, I meant to bring this to you earlier but I – ”

A throat clearing cut you off, and you looked up to see Lando standing in your doorway with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and one of those cheesy “I’m sorry” balloons in his left hand. You almost giggled, but then you looked at his face and your heart dropped. Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes - he looked awful. 

“I know you said you’d reach out when you’re ready to talk, and I wanted to respect that and give you all the space you need. But, we’re both miserable. At least I think you’re miserable, I know I am. I miss you terribly. I miss my friend. And if that’s all you’ll ever be to me, I can respect that and I will cherish it because the past week has been the worst week of my life.”

“Lando, I – ”

“Please, please let me get all of this out. Please let me apologize.”

You smiled slightly, nodding your head for him to continue.

“I’m sorry for invading your privacy. It wasn’t on purpose but I should have left as soon as I heard you talking because I know how important trust is to you. I violated yours and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you. It doesn’t matter if I was hurt, I could’ve just said I wasn’t feeling well or asked you about what I overheard immediately. After apologizing for overhearing, of course. I’m sorry that it took Oscar talking sense into me for me to come to you in the first place. I’m sorry that I hurt you and I’m sorry that I behaved like a child instead of talking to you about my feelings. My actions made you feel forced to tell me something personal that you weren’t ready to share. I’m so sorry, and I hope you know that I’m here for you always.”

He let out a deep breath and you watched his shoulders relax slightly for the first time in two weeks. You knew he was sorry – you’d known how sorry he was immediately when he started explaining and apologizing the first time around, but you just weren’t ready to hear it yet.

“Thank you, Lan,” you whispered as you walked towards him and took his free hand in your own. “I know you’re sorry and I know that this was all a misunderstanding that just got out of hand.”

“I am also sorry for springing my feelings on you. I wanted to tell you properly, ask you out properly, but I couldn’t explain myself without telling you. I ruined everything, it was woefully unromantic.”

“Yeah, that was a bit shit, I didn’t get my big grand gesture or anything.”

Lando’s eyes grew wide, a hopeful gleam in them. “I mean, would you – is that something you would still want? I don’t want to pressure you and I don’t want to assume that you still feel the same.”

“I do,” you said softly. “But, I think we should work on really moving past this before we officially jump into anything more.”

“I completely agree. However, I do have a reservation for two in about forty minutes to make up for ditching you, if you’d like to join me? Otherwise, I’ll have to bring Oscar. He won’t stop talking about the cheese garlic bread.”

“No, Lando, you don’t understand. He ordered three baskets. I went home and typed an apology email to Zak for ruining his diet.”

You both erupted in giggles, leaning into each other for support and out of habit. It felt so good to laugh, the weight and stress of the past two weeks rolling off in waves as Lando’s shoulder bumped yours and you heard the unmistakable laughter that you’d come to love so much.

“Maybe we should bring him anyway,” you pondered. “He’s been an exceptionally good friend to us both the past couple of weeks.”

“He can come next time, I’d like you to myself for the evening. If that’s ok?”

“More than ok, Lan. I’ve really missed you.”

He leaned in quickly, kissing your cheek gently and then nuzzling his nose against your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume he’d gifted you for your last birthday. “Not as much as I’ve missed you,” he objected, his eyes glimmering slightly. Wet eyelashes fluttered against your neck as he stayed tucked into your side for a few more moments.

“We’re going to be late,” you whispered, with a sincere lack of urgency.

“Can we go back to my hotel room instead? Watch a movie and order in? Jus’ wanna hold you.”

Your heart constricted – as much as you wanted to tease him and say he owed you a night out and your favorite meal, you wanted nothing more than to spend the night in Lando’s arms.

“Of course, Lan. I think I need that too.”

On the way to Lando’s car, you passed Oscar who gave you both a knowing smile and a short wave. If you asked him if he had been waiting for you guys to leave, he would deny it. He would deny being so invested in your reconciliation that he waited close to an hour after he could leave for the day to make sure you were both ok. He would also deny that he tracked both of you and when it dawned on him that you were skipping your dinner, he sped to that little Italian place and stole your reservation for an order (or two) of cheese garlic bread.

He couldn’t resist sending a poorly taken picture to the group chat with the three of you and you burst out laughing when you opened it.

“Lan, Oscar somehow stole our dinner res,” you giggled, turning your phone to show Lando an unmistakable basket of bread and a follow-up text with several heart emojis.

Lando held his phone up to snap a quick selfie of you two cuddled up in bed, him leaning in for the second time that evening to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. Almost immediately after it delivered, your phones lit up with another text from Oscar.

HOT DATE FR THIS TIME?

You and Lando looked at each other and smiled, the mutual understanding of where you stood with your feelings evident.

not quite yet, but soon :)

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 1: Vocal Cords

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 1,183,932 others

y/n_rb: Bahrain here we come! This is gonna be our season!

view all comments

user1: you’ve got this girl!

↳user2: represent! So incredibly proud to be able to support a woman in f1!

↳user1: it’s been so long…

oscarpiastri: glad to have you here!

↳logansargeant: not sure I’d go so far…

↳y/n_rb: wow logie just say you hate women then!

↳oscarpiastri: yeah that’s not very feminist of you

↳logansargeant: I’ve been cursed by the universe

↳logansargeant: LET ME BE CLEAR — I DO NOT HATE WOMEN

↳logansargeant: it’s just y/n_rb is every intrusive thought you’ve ever had with a dash of no impulse control or thought-to-mouth filter

↳y/n_rb: hey!

↳oscarpiastri: no that sounds about right — just add a dash of no media training too

↳redbullracing: oh no…

↳y/n_rb: I have a contract! You ain’t getting rid of me so easily!

↳redbullracing: we’re scheduling media training sessions right away

↳logansargeant: good luck!

maxverstappen1: it’s great to have you on the team!

↳y/n_rb: oh my god it’s Max Verstappen!!

↳maxverstappen1: …we’ve met before?

↳y/n_rb: still!

↳user3: it’s not even the start of the season and she’s already bullying both her old F2 competitors and her teammate 😆😆

user4: proud y/n fan here! Having followed her since her F3 days I can say with full confidence that I’m so glad we’re gonna have a new grid terrorist again!

↳fernandoalo_oficial: 🤨🤨🤨

↳user4: besides you of course Mr Rookie sir

fernandoalo_oficial: ¡Hola! ¡Me alegro de verte finalmente aquí! hello! glad to finally see you here!

↳y/n_rb: Mr Fernando sir I’m a big fan! Do you have a couple of minutes to answer a few questions?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Sí?

↳y/n_rb: score!

↳maxverstappen1: oh no

↳logansargeant: no no no

↳oscarpiastri: please don’t

↳redbullracing: the training book doesn’t have a chapter on what to do now…

↳y/n_rb: smile and wave boys. Just smile and wave

f1

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, liamlawson30, and 2,197,284 others

tagged: y/n_rb, redbullracing, pierregasly, alpinef1team

f1: contact between redbullracing’s y/n_rb and alpinef1team’s pierregasly turned dangerous when y/n flipped! She was quickly freed from her car and airlifted to the nearest hospital. Still conscious during the crash and waving to the fans while taken to the helicopter, no further information is known on her injuries.

view all comments

user5: oh my god that was so awful

user6: I’m still sat in shock

maxverstappen1: Based on the text messages I’ve received in the last 10 minutes, she’s fine.

↳logansargeant: how many did you get? Cause I’ve gotten 82 in the last 3

↳maxverstappen1: 187 in 10 minutes

↳oscarpiastri: 23 in the last minute

↳liamlawson30: too many for the group chat. It broke my phone

↳user7: not even on the grid and still terrorizing them 😂 liked by y/n_rb

user8: why did they have to play her radio though…

↳user9: no that was fucking awful

↳user10: I don’t think I’ll be able to forget her screams

↳y/n_rb: skk food bsny!!

↳logansargeant: and that’s the concussion typing 😆

logansargeant

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, oscarpiastri, 2,284,469 others

logansargeant: “Tell that frenchie that I lived bitch!”

view all comments

user11: oh thank god

↳user12: that was one of the most harrowing crashes I’ve seen

user13: if that’s not a Gen-z response I don’t know what is

↳user14: I’m just glad she’s ok

pierregasly: 😑😑

↳pierregasly: well I guess I’m glad she’s ok

↳logansargeant: “JUST SAY YOU DONT LIKE WOMEN FRENCHIE!”

↳pierregasly: I LIKE WOMEN

↳y/n_rb: qe kniw TROPID$$$ SHIILS CSKL TJE PILICE ON U

↳logansargeant: I’ve taken her phone again but she meant “we know TRIPOD!!! SHOULD CALL THE POLICE ON YOU”

↳pierregasly: oh so she’s good

↳logansargeant: as good as she’s ever been

oscarpiastri: glad to see she’s ok!

↳logansargeant: some pretty shredded vocal cords and a nasty concussion but yeah she’s fine

↳oscarpiastri: ouch! Sending a gift basket!

↳logansargeant: “if that thing has a stupid apple in it I’m gonna save it and stuff it down your throat you stupid Aussie!”

↳oscarpiastri:…🫣🫣

↳maxverstappen1: apples?

↳oscarpiastri: don’t ask

↳logansargeant: don’t

↳liamlawson30: do not bring up that trauma again

↳logansargeant: “🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻”

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @mxm47max @angelluv16 @voidvannie @justaf1girl

[butterbabyflapjack]

✧˖° Brian Moser x serial killer fem!reader

✧˖° summary:

The Ice Truck Killer’s back in town, and somehow he's stuck babysitting you; Miami's newest would-be killer.

Helping you out wasn't at all his original intention–he'd rather see you dead, you know far too much–but he supposes he could spare an evening to undomesticate that hungry beast inside you. Show you how to really live your life.

In which Brian helps you kill someone who utterly deserves it, and the kill room turns into a horny sex-fueled bloodbath.

✧˖° wordcount (chapter 1): 5k

✧˖° chapters: one, two, three

✧˖° ao3

✧˖° warnings: serial killer fem!reader, reader insert, explicit sexual content, rough sex, passionate sex, fucking in a kill room, dark romance, dark comedy, canon typical depictions of blood and gore, enthusiastic consent, mutual pining, impact play, playing with your food, serial killers in love, banter, dirty talk, voice kink, trauma bonding, babysitting a serial killer, implied sexual abuse of a child (you're killing this mf don’t worry), torture (you’re torturing this mf don’t worry), Brian is his own warning, enemies to lovers, biting, daddy issues?, blood play, a bit of angst a dash of bloodlust & a heavy splash of spice, Brian loves to fluster you and he won't shut the hell up going about it, Brian survives season 1 in this house

✧˖° author's note:

This is ridiculous, horny, bloody, silly and dark (in essence, a very dark romantic comedy), so please heed the tags!

Starts after season 1, but with Brian escaping. Sorry if there’s any rough spots, I kinda rushed editing this.

ch.1 is from Brian’s POV, and the rest of the story is from yours. And there aren't nearly enough problematic female characters in the world so I'm making you one 😃

✧˖° chapter 1

Hello again, Miami. 

Didn’t think I’d see you again this soon.

What’s it been? Eight months? Since I was your most highly sought after criminal?

Guess I just couldn’t stay away.

Time flies when you’re laying low.

Guess I just missed you.

But really, my reason for coming back to dear old Miami–my home, both my real and spiritual birthplace–has a name, a life, and a face. Your name, if you’re really so curious. Your life. Your face. And I intend to leave what remains of all three of those things behind to the hungry bellies of gators before once more absconding stage left. 

But why, you might ask? Why do I want to kill you? Horrified, scandalized, even. For what reason had you to die by my skillful hand? And the answer to that is simple: death doesn’t need a reason. Death simply is, and I simply enjoy it. 

Though…

Regardless of that irrefutable fact…

I’ll admit. 

This particular death–your death–has a slightly more personal reason. And that reason, or at least its causation, was currently chit-chatting with me on the phone.

“Your plane lands at eight?” Dexter asked, and I didn’t waste time with a nod when he wouldn’t see it. Simply staring out across the coast of Costa Rica, the sunset reflected within the dark shadow of my gaze.

Costa Rica… and I’d really wanted to retire somewhere cold.

Not that this was retirement.

It was more of an… unplanned, involuntary vacation. Just until the heat from the feds cooled down.

Then again, I wasn’t waiting for the temp to drop before planning this little excursion back to Miami. But you’d sorta forced my hand in that regard, now hadn’t you?

“Hope you don’t mind if I crash on the couch,” I said, good-natured, and I knew he wouldn’t object. My brother couldn’t feel much–much more than myself–but I sensed a sort of guilt in him for how he’d previously driven me off those eight months ago. Choosing a fake sibling over a real one, one who actually knew who he was… I’d say the guilt had good cause.

I could hear him at his quaint living room/office combo’s computer, typing away at something. Perpetually Distracted Dexter.

“Yeah–yeah, that’d be great,” he said. 

I exhaled a little sigh whilst listening to the soft waves roll in beside me. “Why do I feel there’s a but coming?”

“No buts,” said Dexter. “I just, uh…” He seemed distracted, but not by whatever he typed. “I’ll just have a friend over tomorrow. She’ll probably be here when you arrive.”

Ah.

The friend.

The one I’d been silently wishing Dex would just kill himself. Grow suddenly bored of you.

Wishful thinking.

He seemed quite fond. 

He wouldn’t shut up about you. Always and forever droning on.

It wasn’t romantic, this interest, or so I’d come to suspect over all these past droning months. I didn’t exactly ask about that, though, half because I really didn’t care and half because of how much the subject of you annoyed me, raised over and over again and ugh, just give it a rest already. 

Dex shouldn’t have ‘friends’. The mere concept a fairytale, a mask to people like us. It should be just he and I, two hunters against the world, hunting whomever we like.

“Ah,” I voiced aloud, with the sugar-flaked pleasantry of someone who wasn’t at all picturing severing your aorta with an icepick. “Your little friend will be there to greet me. How nice.”

Dexter must have misread the edge of sarcasm as some sort of concern. “She already knows you’re coming. Don’t worry, she can be trusted.”

Just more proof that my do-good, misguided brother is far too trusting.

“Well,” I said, as though accepting this point as fact. You really can be trusted with my and my brother's secrets–such relief! “I look forward to finally meeting her.” And carving and slicing and dicing her.

I must have forgotten to include that last part out loud, and thus Dexter had no objection–even sounding strangely relieved by my show of good faith in at long last having this introduction.

“See you tomorrow night,” he said, and my lips formed a little smile–instinctual, without any warmth.

“See you then,” I said, then hung up.

And now; here I am. Back in the ever-enchanting sunshine state. My former playground of frozen, meticulously broken toys, and it feels much more like home to be back than I even expected, with just the small matter of ridding you from these sentimental, familial walls.

Walking the concrete pathway to Dex’s Palm Terrace place was nearly surreal, assaulting the walls of my person with waves of distant memories. I’d broken into his beachfront apartment so many times before. Snooping around, getting to know him. Leaving gifts tied up with little red bows. I was basically murderous Saint Claus.

I had only one bag, having traveled here light–a black leather crossbody, which I thumbed the broad strap of whilst knocking with mild knuckles against the door.

Silence. Then, footsteps. Then–

Dexter throws open the door, a smile formed ear to ear like a big, goofy animal. 

“Brian,” he says, and somehow it melts me. Chips slightly away at all that frigid, cold frost round my cruel, vacant heart. And his eyes dip over the state of me. The longer hair, dark curls well past my ears, now; just long enough to tuck back but not long enough to stay there. The dark scruff which coats my angled jawline in the absence of shaving for so long.

“Dig the beard,” Dexter says. “Quite the disguise. Bet the ladies love it.”

I smile at the compliment, though if he'd hated the look I'd feel much the same. “One does what one has to to effectively blend,” I return. And it’s hard not to feel somewhat warm, somewhat seen, understood, by my brother before me. The only person in this world who accepts who I am.

Well, not wholly.

Thanks for nothing, Debra.

Still. Since the death of our mother, Dex is the only place I’ve ever belonged, and seeing him now I’m abruptly struck with just how long it’s been.

I don’t wait for him to welcome me in–he’s probably too cordially stunted to properly welcome me, anyway. I just step right up and throw both my arms around him, my baby brother, my other half; cuffing him firmly on the back as I breathe him in.

“It’s been too long,” I say, holding him there for a moment, before pulling back.

Dexter’s expression is torn into a million indecipherable things, but amongst them is his affection for me. The brother who’ll always see him for who he really is. Who truly fathoms that insatiable beast inside him.

The bliss of our reunion’s forced to end, however, because this house has a rat problem. And as I hear a small, feminine throat being cleared from the fluorescent-lit depths behind my brother, my curiosity gets the better of me.

Time to finally put a face to the name I’ve been loathing for weeks.

And there you are. Standing before a metal-limbed armchair nuzzled inside the living room, like you’d sat there then stiffly stood up; uprooted at the sound of my knocking. Frozen, now; lingering. Like you’re caught in a trap you don’t know your way out of. Hands fidgeting as they twist at the hem of your shirt. 

It’s like you know you don’t belong here–that this moment is Dexter’s and mine–and for the cleverness of that, at least, I must inwardly applaud you. Though that’s decidedly where all my praise ends.

This is one of those social situations I’ve learned so well to navigate through life in the foster system, masking my aberrance. Awkwardness. Other people’s–not mine. And though I could so effortlessly put you at ease as you stand there fidgeting, I find it more entertaining to draw that part out. For a while, at least.

I must admit, I hadn’t pictured you at all in my head. What you’d look like. Not as anything more than an aggravating, compromising blip I’d soon snuff out the threat of. But if I had pictured you, I wouldn’t have imagined you looking, so…

…Well.

You’re not…

Unnatractive. 

I feel one dark brow slowly raising.

And you’re only a friend…?

Whatever must poor Rita think? Seeing the two of you together?

Dexter. You dog.

My eyes trace your expression as you awkwardly hover there in the length of my speculative pause. Myself perfectly content to allow you to hang there in a noose of discomfort all night, and then some. Though eventually I know one of us will have to say something.

This is our fated and much anticipated formal introduction, after all.

So at what feels like long last, I throw you the lifeline that is my smarmiest smile. Knowing full well you won’t know it’s not real. No one but Dex ever does.

“And you must be the friend I’ve heard so much about,” I greet you pleasantly, my deep voice threaded with warmth. Though, peculiarly, that unsure tension in you remains stubbornly in place. Seems if anything only to grow, despite my intent to disarm it. 

Huh.

Oh well–it doesn’t deter me. Killing you will be so much easier if you don’t see it coming, so I’m keen on you liking me, letting your guard down. Thus, I graciously continue:

“You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to finally having you right in front of me.”

Maybe a bit of truth will lube you up. And I watch as your lower lip’s sucked in between your teeth for just a moment whilst you eye me; the motion drawing my studious gaze like a shark’s to blood. 

“And why is that?” you ask, which admittedly I wasn’t expecting. Such a nervous mouse, yet you’d put me on the spot.

I can’t place your nerves. I’m perfectly charming. And yes, you’re aware I’m the notorious Ice Truck Killer, but I’m not sure why that would be alarming. Not with the company you keep; namely, my murderous brother. So it must be something else.

And I so hate not knowing things.

“So I can be introduced to you in person, of course,” I say, like it’s obvious, and it should be. Striding in past Dexter as he steps aside to allow me in, shutting and latching the door behind us all; a roomful of killers, or so I’ve been told.

Our eyes never stray in my steady approach; not yours, not mine. My height soon towering over yours, which isn’t unusual for me when meeting new people, nor when standing near almost anyone. Offering my hand and a smile I’ve been told is quite dashing. “Dex has had such wonderful things to say about you.” And I’m sure he has, I just couldn’t be bothered to remember any of them.

My smile could melt steel as if it was butter.

“I’m Brian.”

I won’t lie, I expected you to crumble. Most women love this move. The confidence, the approachable self-assurance. But you eye my outstretched hand as though I might pull you into the fires of hell with me were you to take it, before craning your neck to meet my gaze once more.

“Charmed,” is all you say; unmoving.

Something about that irks a small ripple up my nape, but I just allow my hand to drop graciously back to my side. All practiced, svelte charm still in place. It’d take a lot more than that to dischevel me.

“So,” I say, by all appearance unconcerned by the lack of civility in my brother’s ill choice of friends. “It almost feels like I already know you, what with the way Dexter’s gone on and on.”

Your gaze steals over to Dexter, hovering there in the distance behind us, before you smile up at me again in a way which feels forced. And I suppose you’re not the talkative sort, though why you keep glancing at Dexter as if waiting for something from him, as if he’ll swoop in and save you, I’m uncertain about.

In due time I’ll figure it out.

“But there’s still one thing I’m curious about,” I say, turning to make myself comfortable. It has been a long trip to get here, after all. 

I plop down like a wolf amongst sheep atop Dexter’s hideous couch, legs spread like I own the damn food chain. One arm draped out along the length of its backrest as I eye you somewhat expectantly, still rigid in how you stand. Imagining what you might look like strung upside down by your ankles with a lengthy strap of duct tape kissing those soft lips, holding them shut for me. 

The shadows beneath my eyes pinch.

It’s a lovely image.

Maybe you’ll see for yourself.

“And what’s that?” Dexter asks–bravo, Dexter–at least one of you’s courteous enough to ask. And I tilt my darkly curled head at him.

“How exactly did the two of you get to know one another?” I ask. Watching him. Eying you. Hoping my focus might rattle you–just a little. “I’m sure it’s an interesting tale.”

“I’ve already told you,” Dexter says, and he probably has, at least in his unabbreviated sense. “We work together at the precinct.” He dons his playful tone I often find so silly but right now I find I detest. “The lab geek and the cop~”

“Right. But that’s not what I mean,” I slice into his futile comedy routine, “What I mean, is: how did our friend here come to know you’re one of Miami’s most heinous, uncaught serial killers?”  

The other, of course, being myself; excepting the whole uncaught thing.

Dex is lucky I’m so forgiving.

I put it forth bluntly, with little room for either one of you to wiggle out of answering. And though my radiance of charisma remains, my intensity’s keen. ‘Cause I must admit; now that I’m here, I’m curious about you. Especially when you seem like such a rabbit in a household of jackals. Weren’t you supposed to be some like-minded killer or something? Perhaps I should have paid closer attention whenever the unwanted topic of you had come up in mine and Dexter’s conversations, instead of bitterly tuning you out. 

Strangely, Dexter doesn’t seem to know what to say, and neither do you. Like the story’s too long, too elaborate. As though there's pieces the two of you’d rather omit. 

Fascinating.

“She helped me out,” Dex says at last; monotonously shallow, like the words aren’t even his, like he's rehearsed this. “In a time of need.”

I quirk a subtly mocking brow at him from where I’m idly lounged on the couch. 

“Why do you sound like a generic thankyou card?” Why, indeed. “C’mon, baby brother–I want specifics. You can tell me.” My dusky gaze passes from him to his lovely, curious friend, hovered opposite the ugly coffee table before me. “We’re all friends here, right?”

It would seem that my smile unnerves you. Which might be annoying if it wasn’t so entertaining a thing to see.

Dexter sighs before trying a more human answer, leaning one bulky shoulder against his white, open-backed bookcase that separates his living room from the office attached. 

This whole effectively communicating thing is hard for him.

“It was sort of an accident,” he says, like that’s far more telling. The lacking details seeming to spur you to chime in. 

“It was really just me being in the wrong place at the right time,” you elaborate, with the passive front of one pretending the ice they walk on won’t at any moment begin to splinter. Folding your arms against that pensive look I toss you, which I tilt my head in silent question of. Why so nervous? I’m far from daunting, aren’t I? 

“I was called to check out an anonymous tip,” you continue, averting your gaze from me far more often than one normally does. “Some sort of suspicious activity at an abandoned storage shed near Palmetto. Myself and my parter.” 

You glance at Dex, as if he might continue the tale for you, might rescue you from this, but when he merely quirks a little smile with a similar shrug, you’re forced into proceeding.

“It was supposedly related to a case–which it wasn’t, not that that matters, but…” You let out a breath. Seeming to steady yourself, the recollection, though for all your nervous fidgeting your tone is surprisingly calm. “I walked into the storage shed, it was unlocked, and… And I saw Dexter. Sawing someone’s arm off. Someone who was strapped down to a table in a plastic fucking tutu.” 

You glance at Dex, as he detachedly watches you. 

“Someone I knew from a previous case,” you continue. “Someone who deserved whatever it was Dexter was doing, and much more than that, too. Which is exactly when I shut that fucking door and assured my partner there was nothing to see here, and we left. Left Dexter to do what he does, undisturbed.”

That’s the end of your story, and I picture the scene, all while some predatorily protective part of me insists on clarifying, “So… That’s it? You saw my brother chopping a man into pieces, and were immediately okay with it? Go Team Dexter? Just like that?”

I try very little to hide my disbelief, ‘cause I don’t buy it. In my experience with cops, and I’ve had plenty, you all tend to be such sticklers when it comes to casual bloodshed and carnage. What’s more, your uptick in nerves isn’t exactly selling me.

My lashes lower in my deliberate examination of you. “Why’d you really not turn my dear brother in?”

In lieu of answering, you once more eye Dex, and that look between you says something.

“It’s complicated,” you say at last. Like you’re waiting for Dexter to speak, but he’d rather wait on you.

The pair of you. Really. You’re like a couple of tongue-tied, helpless kittens. Must I string this conversation on for you?

“Enlighten me,” I say, with something of an edge.

Perhaps I should’ve kept the disarmingly fake smile, because if anything you thrust your guard up.

“Look, I don’t owe you a full explanation of what Dexter and I have been through, okay?”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” I viperously put forth, my pretense of pleasantry slipping. “Seeing as how you know so much about myself. And all without my express knowledge or permission.”

An impermanent issue. One I won't leave Miami without personally seeing resolved. You know far too much–you’re an issue. For Dexter’s sake and for mine, we must unfortunately bid you bon voyage.

“I’d say it’s only fair I know a little more about you,” I continue, cordiality slipped back in place. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

The delicate line of your jaw tautens, eyes wavered with wariness and doubt. Refusing to spit out any more, though the longer you’re subject to my critical appraisal, the more the twine of your stubbornness unwinds.

“I… I need someone dead,” you admit at last.

Ah.

There it is.

“And, after seeing Dexter doing… what he does…” You bite your lower lip, as though struggling to recollect straying thoughts. “I need his help. I need his help to kill someone.”

I take my time mulling about your words. Piecing together the part you still aren't saying.

“So… You won’t turn Dexter in, so long as he helps you kill someone. Did I get that right?” 

You bite down harsher–immediately shake your head. “No, it’s–it’s more complicated than that!” 

But by now I’m barely listening. Turning instead to lift a wry brow at my brother, who’s watching this whole fiasco with a can-I-please-leave-yet look plastered upon his face.

“This is the friend you’ve been telling me about?” I wonder vaguely. “The cop who’s blackmailing you into helping her kill someone?”

“I’m a detective,” you cut in, like that matters, like I care, and I feel my eyes already rolling.

“Detective,” I sarcastically amend, with a scathing glance at you. “So sorry to offend, Detective Whoever-You-Are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m talking to my brother.”

When you mutter back your name under your breath, I make a show of ignoring it.

“So, what?” I instead ask my foolish, good-hearted kin. “You’re actually going to help her kill someone?” 

His lack of answer’s enough. And at his arms-folded silence, I ruminatively tut my tongue.

“Doesn’t seem like you, Dex… Not the edict-ruled brother I know.” I try not to let my tone grow too ingratiating whilst goading, “What about your beloved code?” 

Dexter exhales a stiff breath. Putting forth, “It’s more than that.”

“More?”

“Like she said, it’s complicated.”

“Has the word ‘complicated’ been redefined as ‘indescribably moronic and impossible to explain’ sometime in the last fifteen seconds?” I return, incredulously flat. Eying their strange and stilted silence with dwindling patience. “What aren’t the two of you telling me…?”

You’re biting your lip like you’re biting back words, and I watch, waiting, biding my time for those bit-back words to get the better of you–though surprisingly, it’s Dexter who breaks first. 

“It’s nothing about that, it’s…” He rubs the back of his sand-colored head, roughing his hair up with tense distraction. “Well, it is about that, in a sense. I didn’t know how to bring this up. I just… I have to leave town for the weekend,” he finally gets out. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m headed out.”

I’m too nonplussed to hide the creeping edge of my bemusement.

That’s what he’s been having trouble saying?

He drops this like it’ll land like a bombshell on our entire reunion, before rushing at whatever my bland expression, “It’s just for a few days. I’ll be back Monday bright and early.”

To be honest, I’m mostly confused about why this seemed so hard for either one of you bumbling idiots to tell me. Or why you’re bumbling about it at all. Why should I care if he’ll be gone for forty-eight more measly hours after we've been separated for almost a year? And for many, many years before that? Does he actually expect me to mourn him till Monday?

“Big plans with the family?” I venture coolly, and Dexter’s broad shoulders bunch into a shrug, as though he’s cornered and a shrug is all that might save him.

“It’s a whole thing,” he explains. “Cody has a scouting trip, then Rita wanted to make a whole weekend out of it with the grandparents–I’ll spare you the details.”

Yes, thank you for that.

Dexter the family man. It’s so sweet it’s nauseating.

“So you’re taking your fake kids camping so you can keep playing domesticated dad to a woman and children who’d hate you if they knew who you really are?” My smile’s so feigned it hurts. “Sounds like a great time.”

My brother, the shrugger, shrugs once again. Doesn’t even try to defend my interpretive accusation. “I gotta be there.”

“Well have fun on your little adventure,” I muse; side-eying him. “Not sure why it took you this long to tell me. I’m sure I’ll find some way to busy myself in the meantime.”

You and Dexter exchange that look again. That look which betrays how you still haven’t shared whatever’s so lodged down your throats and wherever this is really going, and by this point it’s driving me toward wanting to just rip open your necks to drag whatever it is out, myself.

“Well, actually,” my brother begins, struggling once more with saying things. “I’ve already got an idea that’ll keep you busy in mind.”

I steady him in the crosshairs of my vision. Well. Now we might be getting somewhere. And I can’t deny my interest, much like my frustration, is piqued. 

“Oh?”

“A favor, really,” he adds, without elaborating, and I really am going to rip the words right out of him.

“Are you going to tell me what that favor is?” I’m finally forced to ask, before glancing exasperatedly at you. “Or perhaps I should defer to your translator?”

There you go, nervously rubbing that elbow again, though I find myself oddly mesmerized by the motion of it. I can’t say for what cause, other than I’m not blind, and you’re obviously attractive. Watching you anxiously stand there is becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

“I, um,” you mumble, so quietly I almost can’t hear you. A nervous mouse again, one my nature is stirred to chase. “Well. Dexter was going to help me with–you know… What I was saying before. We have everything planned for tomorrow, and it has to happen tomorrow.” You seem strangely adamant about this, and I don’t care enough to question the ‘why’, just as I don’t care for the ‘who’–I’ll take your word for it. “But, um, with Dexter out of town…”

Helpless, as if to say any more’s an impossible task, you glance to Dexter for support.

“Really, the two of you,” I lowly muse. Eyes glistening between the pair of you, alight with my wicked amusement. Stretching out more broadly on the throne of Dexter’s hideous couch. “You could almost put a full sentence together so long as you tag one another in after every breath.”

The taunt’s enough to unlodge wherever Dexter’s tongue’s at. 

“I need you to help her kill this guy while I’m gone,” he finally says bluntly. Arms folded, expression stern, yet hinted by what may as well be him begging me, which in itself, is…

Well. He’s never asked me for anything. Not like this. Though I certainly don’t owe him any favors…

“I know you know how to set up a proper kill room,” he states, and he should–he’s seen my imitation of his plastic-drenched kill room, firsthand. I’ve studied his work more than anyone. Emulated it to perfection, and all for a happily-ever-after he refused to take part of, spat cold in my face.

For a moment, I feel almost human in how I can’t seem to react or respond to this request. Though as I watch the mirrored hope in you both, as the idea of this slowly settles, I find that it doesn’t completely bore me…

My eyes drift to you. Singling you out. Stringing round your anxious expression. And you’ve mettle, at least, to not look away from the barbs of my musing intensity.

So. This is why you’ve been acting so sheepishly inept. You need big bad Brian’s help with something.

It’s laughably cute, the idea of you killing, and already I know I’m going to do it. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make you sit in it a little. Take my time in toying with you, first.

“You want me to babysit your blackmailing little friend here,” I say to Dex, with raven-dark eyes still on you, “while she attempts–and correct me if I’m wrong here–her first kill?” 

I can tell you can feel how my gaze is dissecting you. Pulling apart, piecing together, assessing every piece and shape and shade of you. It makes you squirm, and I love it; sparing a moment to slide my tongue over the sharpness of my teeth as I feast on such a beautiful reaction. 

I turn back to Dex. “What makes you think she’s even capable?”

“I’m capable,” you insist, drawing my gaze again. And even through those nerves roused in my presence, you appear quite convinced of it. 

Interesting. 

“I can do this,” you again allege. With such frail confidence, but confidence nonetheless. “I just… need a little help.”

I tamp down the rearing head of my inquisitiveness. Ensure my interest remains vague in how I lackadaisically eye you. 

“Help with what, exactly?” I slowly ask. And it’s not a no, which I’m amused to see is so surprising.

You blink a few times, eyes growing wider, more determined–before you’re explaining, quickly, as though whatever luck this is may run out.

“Getting him to the kill site,” you say succinctly, with all the puffed-up bravado of a fluffy little rabbit pretending that they’ve slayed a fox before, and it really is amusing. “Moving the body. Clean-up.”

I let my watchful silence drag on. Held in supposed indecisive contemplation. Should I? Should I? Until, when I can nearly hear your fretting heartbeat, I feel one corner of my lips slowly quirk up. Watching every minor movement of you like a fox might a meal, might a rabbit, and find I really wouldn’t mind taking a bite. 

“Don’t need help doing the deed, then?” I subtly ask you.

Your eyebrows flicker to a knot. Lips pressing flat, before you shake your head at me. “No.”

“You sure?” I further goad, with silken smoothness. Loving those little cracks of hesitation along your lovely surface so much I’m inclined to hammer in even more of them. “‘Cause I won’t kill him for you. You have to do that, yourself. And what’s more, if you for any reason chicken out on me and can’t follow through with all this…” I calmly smile. “I’ll simply leave you there all alone with whatever maddened mess of whoever this man you’ve left behind.” The idea of it sparks a delicious flame somewhere deep below my cavernous lack of heart. “After ensuring he’s woken up, first, of course. Aware. Pissed off. Untied.” 

I smile my cheshire smile as that resolve in you flickers in place; the smallest glow, so nearly snuffed out already. 

“So?” I spur in your uncertain silence. “Do we have a deal, little killer?”

And still, you hesitate. Seeming to weigh my words with care, along with the cost of your own, which I certainly appreciate. You’re not as stupid as I’d originally believed, in any case.

At long last, you nod, but I don’t move, don’t even blink from how I wolfishly watch you from my throne of Dexter’s couch. Not until you say the words out loud. And you will, if you want my help. You have to.

If that’s a flash of resentment within those pretty eyes of yours, it only causes my broadening smirk.

“Fine,” you say at last, after thickly swallowing. “We have a deal.”

And surely light must dance in my entertained eyes as I bite back just how pleased I am by this answer. 

This should be fun.

✧˖° chapter 2

[lilpotatjj]

Cait and Sam watching their own wedding night episode? Yes aaand no. We all know what these two lovebirds did...like come on who wouldn't? I escalated a wee bit. That's one of my longest Oneshots (almost 5000 words) and I'm gonna continue this with a hugh story about them. Living the forbidden lie in all his cuteness.

Warning: starts with super fluffy and lovely cuteness and turns into a soft 18+ hot mess. Sam beeing Sam and Cait beeing most of the time Cait with slightly cute shyness

(Credits to the Gif owners)

♡Chap.1-Directing their own happy hour♡

A crazy year is over. Filming has long since been completed and the premiere of the first season is over. Several interviews have been held and the first episodes are already on TV. It's September, cool and unpleasantly rainy in LA this year and the day before the premiere of the seventh episode. It's called 'The Wedding Night'.

Cait was out and about, drenched after a conversation with one of the co-producers. It was up in the air whether there would be a second season, but the prospects looked good. She didn't think to bring an umbrella. Why in LA, where it is usually quite warm, even in September.

She ran to her car, the newspaper just over her head for protection, and got in. 'Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ... What the hell is wrong with this weather?' she cursed and was completely soaked. She quickly switched on the engine and turned up the heating. As she drove off, her mobile phone suddenly rang in its holder on the dashboard of the car. 'Hey Sam,' she said simply and focussed on the road.

'Have you been bathing?' he asked wryly, obviously making himself comfortable.

'Very funny...the weather in LA almost reminds me of home,' she was finding it difficult to speak. She was shaking a little and had trouble concentrating. 'I'll call you later if it's unfavourable?' he asked and she said no, perhaps a little too quickly. 'Ah ok' he paused for a moment. 'Tell me what's going on, I'll be fine' she said with chattering teeth and he had to smile, sitting up straight again and looking thoughtful. 'What do you think about travelling to my place and I'll tell you what's going on when you've warmed up at my place?' he asked sincerely without any ulterior motives.

Her cheeks flushed, which wasn't just because she was cold. 'All right, I'm on my way. The same hotel as always?' she asked and he replied with a quick "Yes". The rain didn't stop, on the contrary, it even got heavier. She parked the car in one of the parkingslots in front of the hotel and dashed inside as quickly as she could. Once inside, she asked at reception for the surname Heughan. The servant nodded conspicuously. 'Ah yes, Mr Heughan, he had informed me. He's in room 0410,' he said and with a very friendly smile, he pointed down one of the corridors. Cait thanked him and walked towards his room. Once there, she knocked on his door without thinking. He opened it for her and looked her up and down briefly before she simply entered his hotel room. He looked after her, slightly amused, and went into the bathroom.

When he came out again, he found her standing by the radiator, shivering slightly. He went to her and put a towel over her shoulders. She looked at him gratefully and unconsciously smiled far too sweetly. 'Thank you,' she said quietly and his eyes stayed on hers for longer than he wanted. The reason why he grabbed her towel and started playfully rubbing her hair dry. 'You should bring an umbrella next time,' he said with amusement. 'It wasn't raining when I was out' she gave him an annoyed look as he then went to the wardrobe to lend her some of his own clothes.

'Here' He held the clothes out to her wordlessly and she took them hesitantly. 'It's not going to stop raining that quickly for now. You can spend the night if you want. I'll sleep on the couch,' he said as he looked out of the window. She gave him a look of disbelief. 'Oh come on, we slept anywhere on set where there was space and time. You can sleep in the bed with me' she said dryly without thinking about it and Sam turned to her with his typical look, eyebrow raised slightly, he nodded.

She was right. Time on set was often pretty tough. Sometimes there was no time to sleep and filming often lasted well over 24 hours. Sometimes one of the props or simply a bench was a comfortable place to sleep for a short break. But now they are no longer on set, there is no one around to watch them.

'What did you want to talk about?' she asked curiously as she came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of his big hoodies. She almost sank into it and yet it looked great on her. 'Right, exactly... I wanted to ask you if you'd like to watch tomorrow's episode of Outlander with me' he said and she looked at him curiously. 'What episode was it again?' she asked, rubbing her face tiredly. 'The seventh episode,' he said, unconsciously tense. 'oh ok' came from her, benignly ignorant. 'What's the name of the episode, I'm just too tired to remember which one the last one left off at,' she said, pouring herself a sip of the wine on the table.

'The Wedding Night...' She choked and coughed for a moment. Now it dawned on her. It was that episode. She remembered all the scenes on set too well.

'Are you ok?' he asked without making any facial expressions. 'Yes... I'm sorry,' she apologised and put her glass down again for safety reasons. 'But we're going to need more wine,' she said with amusement and her grin was almost unpleasant. The mood was strange. He scrutinised her carefully while she just stared at the wine, motionless and thoughtful.

She looked slowly at him, his gaze still fixed on her. You would have thought he was burning every corner of her face. It made her nervous, but not in an unpleasant way. She felt the heat in her cheeks and stood up abruptly. 'I think I've spilt...I'll be right back' she disappeared into the bathroom in a flash. She was aware of what was happening, or so she thought, but she was still unsure. He was and is her co-partner. What would the media say, Starz or everyone involved in the big picture? She didn't realise she was breathing faster.

'Cait, are you all right?' he asked anxiously from behind the door. 'Y..yes...I'll be right back.' She splashed water on her face and then came out again. 'And you're sure we should sleep in the same bed?' he asked with raised eyebrows, almost admonishingly. 'That's fine, it's ok,' she said dryly and gave him a cheeky look. She stood in front of him. He was so tall that she always had to look up at him. 'But only if you change too...I doubt you want to sleep in those jeans...you already hated them on set' she looked at him challengingly and tugged at his collar. He enjoyed her closeness. It was clear that he had had feelings for her for some time. It was impossible not to, given the sight of her and her wonderful character. But whether she would ever be serious about him was an open question. He doesn't push her, gives her room to manoeuvre and is patient. Like a crocodile patiently waiting to snatch its prey.

He gave her a charming smile and went to his wardrobe, took out more comfortable clothes and looked at her briefly. She sat down on the couch and unconsciously inspected him as he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't miss her gaze and when he came out again, he saw her sitting on the couch with her head resting on her hand. She grinned at him. 'Do you want to watch something or are you too tired and want to go to sleep?' he asked solidly, closing the curtains. He turned round and noticed that she already had jumped into bed. She snuggled into the big duvet. He laughed briefly and shook his head playfully. 'well...I take it you've had a full day today...want to talk?' he came round and lay down in bed too. They both looked at each other, snuggled together under a blanket, she was quiet for a moment and had to look at him. It's a completely different feeling alone without people from the set. Far away from all the other trailers, other people or cameras. There was no one here. The thought of it made her heart beat gently faster and she almost forgot to speak, let alone breathe, at the sight of him.

'Yeah...I had a call today and two other annoying appointments before that. I've been travelling all day...then there's the rain...I'm honestly glad to be with you right now' the last words came out of her innocently and unusually meekly. She is usually the type of person who says what she thinks, with consideration for the feelings of others. But it's easier with him. She can be whatever she wants, let herself go with him. He listened to her quietly and attentively.

'Sam... what is it between us?' She looked him in the eye and tried to understand the moment. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a wave of his hand, ignoring his own pounding heart. 'We're just lying here talking,' he replied briefly in a low voice. Jesus, can't he stop being cute for once? Struggling to concentrate from his voice and the sight of him, Cait swallowed with difficulty, unable to find an answer.

It was so quiet. Neither of them said anything. Her breathing was much faster and without thinking she snuggled up to him, hiding her face in his chest to hide her burning cheeks. She could hear his heart beating softly and realised that it was also much faster. Sam took her carefully in his arms and decided to remain silent for the time being, to savour the moment. He could smell her hair and buried his face in it a little, kissing it and noticed her smile. He did the same and had to smile. As always, no one needs to say anything to understand.

The sun's warm rays tickled Cait's cheeks and she moved slowly. A large, warm body lay close to her. You really don't need a heater when you're lying next to this 1.92m tall man. She grinned happily as she realised who it was. He was still asleep. She took this moment to observe his sleeping form. He looked so content and balanced, still holding her tightly in his arms.

His calm breathing was soothing, like a lullaby. It was nothing new, sleeping with him, hearing his breathing, feeling him against her, his embrace and yet this time it was completely different. She felt a tingling in her stomach at the mere thought of wanting to touch him. It made her nervous and she suddenly looked away from him only to look back at him again. Her gaze kept switching between his lips and the air she was trying to stare into. No Cait...you better not. Once you start, it will end badly... she thought to herself and thought back to their time on set. They often kissed away from the camera. Out of spontaneous situations to practise, of course...right? The heat rose in her face again. She tried to control her thoughts, but her heart was making it damn hard. She didn't even realise that she had come closer to him, her face close to his, her breathing as if she were climbing a mountain that was out of reach. However, with an unmistakable sound in her voice, she freed herself from his grip in a flash and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without realising it, she was sweating. She clutched her forehead and tried to get her breathing under control. Damn Balfe, a little more self-control! Her thoughts were waging a war she was in danger of losing. He opened one eye and watched her actions. She flinched slightly as he began to stretch and looked slightly to the side in his direction. He couldn't help but grin self-consciously. She was so cute. He didn't know her to be that shy or insecure. On set, they could both let Jamie and Claire hang out, kiss or touch each other however they wanted. Nobody would have thought it was anything serious, at least that's what they both thought.

She stood up abruptly and looked nervously at him. 'I'm going to freshen up,' she said briefly and Sam let himself fall into his pillow with a smile. He wanted the time to last. To savour this precious moment, just with her...just with Cait.

He made breakfast and the rest of the day was relaxed. Except for a few little things Sam had to do this time, the day was uneventful. Cait spent the time in his room and fell asleep on his couch once again. She was far too tired from the last few days, not to mention the previous night. Snuggled up with one of Sam's woollen blankets, she slept peacefully. The blanket smelled wonderfully of him and transported her to dreamland far too quickly. When the Scotsman returned later that day, he saw her curled up on the couch. Still asleep. He put the key away and took off his shoes to go to her. With quiet steps, he stood next to her and looked at her without a word. She looked so innocent. He often did, watching her sleep. Her soft purring when she slept. Her soft smile when he always secretly snuggled up to her, just to be close to her unnoticed. He loved it.

Sam simply stood still for another moment and looked down at her thoughtfully, bent down and got very close to her face. He could feel her breath on him. The corner of his mouth twitched impatiently and he gave her a delicate kiss on her soft lips. His heart did what it wanted and almost ran away from him, but he didn't care. The kiss was short and so gentle that Cait didn't wake up, at least that's what he thought and realised he was wrong. The ball of blanket and the supposed Mrs Fraser inside it moved gently. She opened her eyes just a crack to somehow recognise what in God's name was happening. Sam was already scurrying about, unpacking a few things he'd been shopping for. There were a few bottles of wine and something to nibble on.

She sat up in a daze, her hair in a wild mess and yawned tiredly. 'What time is it?' she asked with a husky voice. 'It's already 7 pm. How long have you been asleep?' He brought two bottles of wine to the table and two glasses. 'Too long... Well, I don't think I'll fall asleep that quickly watching TV,' she said with amusement and ran her hands through her hair to fix it a little. 'Are you hungry?' he asked, unpacking a bag at the same time. It was Asian Food. 'Yes,' she replied curtly and watched the Scotsman without realising it. Her gaze was dreamy, as if she was looking at the jackpot she had won. He came over to her and set her something to eat. She had to smile. Of course he knew exactly what her favourite food was. 'Thank you,' she said and they both ate some of the food.

'Do you remember filming the episode?' he asked when he had finished eating.

'Yes, quite a lot. I'm curious how it was edited. Some days were so long and tiring,' she took a breath and looked at him. 'It was sometimes very difficult to stay relaxed and yet... You made it easy for me to shoot the more difficult scenes,' he said with a smile and looked at her in detail. She couldn't avoid his gaze and was caught up in it. She quickly picked up her wine glass and took a good sip.

Cait laughed softly as she remembered. 'Did you remember the scene when Claire said "go to bed"? God, how many times we replayed that just because our producer never liked the look in your eyes and then I said "to fuck" off camera, or so I thought? Your look afterwards was exactly what they wanted to see and it was recorded,' she laughed and took another sip. Sam did the same and poured the red wine down his throat. 'How could I forget?' his voice sounded ironic with an amused undertone. 'At least it wasn't too cold when we were naked for what felt like 24 hours,' he said and poured more wine.

She looked silently into her wine glass after his words, then raised her eyes and literally stared at him. He's like an accident... you don't want to look but you can't help but stare at him with curiosity and anticipation. Too mesmerised by his gaze, she once again couldn't get a word out. He could throw a bone now and she would run after it like a dog. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. 'The episode is about to start,' he breathed so quietly that she had to think for a moment whether she had heard him correctly.

Sam came closer to her, looked deep into her eyes and was tired of seeing her like this. She was literally begging to be touched. The Scotsman didn't hesitate a second longer and kissed her gently yet firmly. Cait was briefly surprised and yet she accepted the kiss without hesitation. As if they had kissed hundreds of times before, he brought her to him by taking her face in his hand. He stroked her cheek tenderly and was the first to break the kiss. Cait just looked at him. She could have sworn her heart was stuck one floor below. He smiled at her and she did the same, returning his smile with a blissful grin. He took the remote control without another word.

The atmosphere was strangely relaxed, but you could just feel the crackle. He switched on the TV and the episode started. She looked over at him expectantly, so he couldn't help but lean over and grab her, cuddling her right next to him against his chest. Cait took a contented breath and drank more of the wine as she savoured his closeness and warmth.

They both made comments here and there and had to laugh and shake their heads when Rupert and Angus burst in. 'I remember one of them fell badly once,' Sam laughed and they both grinned. Then came the scene where Claire asks Jamie to bed. Both the Scot and the Irishwoman watched the scene tensely and had to smile again and again. 'How many times we had to repeat that...but you did a good job,' she said contentedly to distract them from what was actually happening. Jamie grabbed Claire's breast. 'Christ, how many times you made me laugh, Cait...you kept making jokes about my breasts,' Sam said with amusement and Cait turned bright red. 'Well I was nervous as hell...we had to take our clothes off...I was afraid I'd ruin your view of naked women' she said sheepishly and he took her chin and forced her to look at him.

'my god Cait...how can you say that...' he whispered more and she looked at him nervously and slightly guiltily. Before she could say anything, Sam beat her to it. 'Your body is beautiful.' She stared at him and their gazes parted as the scene came where Jamie plopped on top of her and penetrated her. The situation couldn't have been stranger. It was weird for both of them to see each other like this. It looked a thousand times hotter on the screen than when they were both shooting that scene over and over again.

Sam grinned at Claire's sweet words when she said she gets crushed by Jamie. He noticed Cait's tension, she squeezed her legs tightly together and banished all her thoughts to the farthest corner of her brain cells. To no avail. Sam looked down at her and took the wine glass from her hand. How much had they actually had now? Both bottles of wine were empty.

Cait looked at him questioningly, but she knew the answer. Sam slowly stroked her legs and hesitantly approached her face. Her breathing increased, her lower lip quivering in response to his touch. She closed the gap and kissed him. But this time more demanding and with far less restraint. Gripped by what was on the television, Cait pressed herself closer to him and without thinking about it, she sat on his lap. He gasped briefly under the stormy kisses only to continue on her neck. She let out a sigh. A soft, pleasurable sound that he knew all too well. It had almost always driven him crazy when they gave their all during filming and he wasn't allowed to have her completely. Shooting a scene is one thing. Shooting naked is something else, but constantly filming wild sex scenes in the nude with such a beautiful woman is simply torture. With her playful but otherwise confident character, he would have liked to show how much he really liked her. He constantly had to touch her. On her breasts, her body and getting closer to areas with his face that made him want to seriously give up control of himself.

Meanwhile, no matter what was on the television, she only had eyes for her Scotsman. She looked at him dreamily, losing herself in his gaze. Everything about him is so attractive. His hair, which she now clung to in order not to lose her mind. His upper body, his beard and God damn his face, with his ice-cold blue eyes that almost robbed her of her will. She unconsciously moved onto his lap when she realised that he was already more than ready for action. Now she smirked cheekily at him, causing him to bite his lower lip. 'You little beast....now you're showing your true colours,' he said almost choking and his gaze didn't leave hers for a second. Somehow they knew it, but it was different here too. He took off her hoodie and just looked at her for a moment. As if he couldn't believe what he saw, he grabbed her breasts as if he wanted to make sure they were the same as usual. He kissed one of them gently and played around with the other.

She leant her head back with pleasure and let him do his thing. 'Sam....' she breathed and looked at him, slightly dazed. 'You too....' she whispered excitedly and took off his shirt too. She looked at him with red cheeks. It didn't matter whether it was the alcohol or Sam's fault. No matter who she drank from, she would be intoxicated by both. She touched him on the shoulder and ran her fingers down his neck to the area below his belly button, from which a few hairs flashed out. Sam's eyes were fixed on Cait with an expression as if she were made of glyphs and he was trying to decipher them.

She grabbed his belt with her hand and tried to open it, but this turned out to be difficult when sitting. He grabbed her ass and literally threw her on the couch, took off his pants only to stand completely naked in front of her. Her gaze was discreetly surprised and looked at his best piece. She was not prepared for that now. They always wore protection on set, which didn't help much when Sam had a hard-on, but it covered everything. She swallowed and for a second a shy shadow could be seen in her eyes. "We want to stay fair, my dear," he pointed to her pants and came closer to her playfully. She looked at him nervously and had to smile to cover up her nervousness.

"Do you want to continue?" he asked as a precaution and in answer she nodded and looked at him with a cheeky, innocent face. He grinned confidently and helped her undress. There she was, completely exposed with a red glow on her cheeks. They had both played through this position so many times before, but this one moment now belonged to the two of them alone.

He grabbed her by the hand to pull her up to him. Cait stood directly in front of him and looked him in the eye anything but uncertainly. She literally felt his heartbeat, as if the two were synchronously forming a unit. She took his hands and intertwined her fingers in his. "Caitriona you are so beautiful" proudly sounded in his voice and she smiled happily at him. "Just you and me" she whispered lovingly, looked at him longingly and Sam couldn't ask any more questions, because she had just answered them.

He kissed her, longing and greedy, clawed at her ass to lift her up and faltered briefly. There was no cut, nothing that interrupted them despite the swaying and could stop the lust of both. He let himself fall back a little on the couch, with her on his lap, without even thinking about breaking the kiss.

Now nothing went according to the script. He was the director of this scene and decided how to proceed in accordance with his Irish beauty. She enjoyed every touch, every second and breathed heavier as he caressed her breasts. Cait became more impatient and looked at him almost begging. He grabbed her ass again to lift her and positioned her so that Sam could penetrate her without any problems. He smiled... She was more than ready. A groan on her part indicated that the tackle would continue as he was into her completely. The Hugh Scot didn't want to slow down, not to be careful that something unexpected happened.

Cait moved and he adjusted to her. This time he couldn't help but moan quietly. She rested her forehead on his and continued moving. Regardless of the hotel neighbors, neither of them cared how loud they were.

He had to smile at the sight of her. She moaned subtly differently than when they were filming. It sounded the same as always, but there was a hint of honesty in the sound of her lovely voice. The sound that makes his bones tremble and underlines the pleasure he is really giving her. Flowing through the alcohol and the rush of adrenaline that they both experience and that made them both sweat, he felt how aroused she already was. He concentrated on her to give her the moment of happiness, but had great difficulty enduring it, especially with her moaning. She really deeply enjoying it.

'Sam...' damn it, he tried so hard not to lose control, but moaning his name like that almost pushed him over the edge. He gasped heavily and bit her shoulder. Finally, she felt a wave rushing deep inside her and completely flooding her. She moaned louder and let him feel how much he loved her without ever having said it.

'Sassenach!' He gasped at the same time as her and let himself fall completely as he came inside her, clawing a little too hard at her round ass. She sank exhausted onto his shoulder and gasped for air. Completely out of breath, both of them tried to understand the situation they were in.

'Everything ok...Mo Chridhe?' He hesitated at first, but he had to say it. He loved her and had no doubt that this would ever change. She was too perfect, her temperament, her way of dealing with him and her laugh. God, how much he loved her laugh. The Scotsman lovingly wrapped the wool blanket around her and let her get some air, but it was starting to make him nervous because she was still hiding into his chest. 'Is everything ok, Cait?' he asked nervously. She turned her head so that her face was directed towards the crook of his neck and he could feel her breath. He got goosebumps.

'I love you...' she whispered softly to him. Three words that could throw him off balance and almost made his heart stop. A smile twitched across his lips. 'I love you too... Sassenach...' he said lovingly and playfully and felt her smile. 'What do we tell the producers?" she asked, quite worried. 'Nothing at first. It will be difficult to hide it... at least partially. Maybe they'll let us do it and accept the unspoken facts. Filming should be easier for both of us,' he tried to explain and stroked her back. Suddenly he looked at her with a Jamie expression, as if he had traveled through time in just a second. 'Could you now...' he paused briefly.

'What?' now she looked at him confused. 'I mean we didn't use protection...' he got nervous and the Irish woman had to giggle. 'No...that's out of the question, don't worry' she said. He smiled in relief. 'We missed half the episode,' he said and she snuggled up next to him. 'It doesn't matter...we'll watch it again then" she said with a cheeky undertone and he kissed her extensively.

[renthony]

I can't stop thinking about Arcane. I've never been so obsessed with a piece of media that irritated me so much. I can't put it in my "I love this, it's my favorite" category, but I can't put it in my "I hate this, it sucks" category. It is the ultimate mixed bag that I will be obsessed with forever.

Season 1: This is an intensely political story that invokes real-world systemic injustice, and the core conflict is between the oppressed undercity and the privileged upper city. It's a little messy and doesn't necessarily handle everything perfectly, but the plot is wrapped up in ideological divides and poverty vs privilege.

Season 2: Actually we want to go play around with other worldbuilding stuff that we haven't set up very well, because none of that political stuff matters as much. We aren't going to explore how fucked up it is that the city fighting for its independence gets absolutely nothing they wanted and the last character who seemed to actually give a shit about that conflict is not going to get a single speaking line in the final act of the show. We are not going to explore what actually wound up happening with the political situation. Also, the only happy canon queer couple are cops, a gay-coded character got word-of-god confirmed as ace in the most homophobic AND aphobic way possible, and nobody from the undercity got an actual happy ending. The working class is going to continue suffering while the rich cop lesbians get their happy ending. Fuck you.

Like, I really cannot get over the fact that the show's marketing did a big "Sevika's story ends in act 3!" and then she didn't even speak. What the fuck.

Also, we're supposed to accept that Jinx has an ambiguous ending because of her pink shimmer dash, but all that makes me think is, "babygirl, why couldn't you do that for Isha?" It feels weak. She's a superpowered machine who can defy the laws of physics, but not when her kid is in danger???

This show makes me want to chew glass. It's so fucking beautiful. The soundtrack is fire. I find most of the characters deeply compelling. I am going to be unhinged about them for the rest of my life. But the plot...augh.

[pensbridge]

1 thing that the Bridgerton siblings all have in common is that they are going to act in the most innane, chaotic, borderline animalistic of ways.

Anthony: speed runs toward Daphne and Simon without thought to pry them off from fucking in the garden only followed by bitch punching Simon square in the face; schemes to find the "perfect" wife (one who fits his checklist) to only later realize he feels for her sister....but doesn't stop there, and continues his plan as if he doesn't realize that his perfect wife is actually right there, therefore he should not have to attempt to marry the other in his escape that can only be described as a self-destruct endeavor to not accept happiness; ruins the plan AT the wedding; also smells his future wife as she passes (and gets caught); the gazebo..nuff said

Benedict: is generally a little shit (see him at dinner tables, in large gatherings, and just around his siblings); criticized an artist in front of their own work. he wasn't aware, which just adds to the chaos. walks into spaces without a clue to what is going on before him (i repeat: criticizing the artist's painting; also his chaotic arrivals at sibling councils calling for immediate action); in an ongoing frustration over his artistic expression that is meant to be expression of his feelings; proceeded to get high and took the whole bottle of substances; almost jumped out of a window fr

Colin: proposes to a woman he barely knows in a mad dash impulsive instinct that evades kissing her; walks out from the dinner with his fiancé without notice on the sole basis that he does not want to hear his future in-law sing badly. yes she is indeed terrible, fyi. failed engagement -> impulse flee from the country; ahh (sigh) he is feeding the ducks; loudly proclaims his "mis-affections" for a woman who is actually his future wife, then lends himself to help her find a husband like he doesn't see the big yellow sign flashing to reveal himself as the spouse in question

Daphne: is ½ of the couple about to desperately fuck in the garden; previously was involved in a scheme to fool the people of their surroundings that she was on her way towards marriage; ran away from a prince who was about to propose to her. I understand, but we are in dire, desperate times here. fell for the garden-fuck buddy, and became obligated to marry him, but he doesn't want kids oh no.........married him; in the "I know something my brother's fiancé doesn't know" club of 3 (peace-out, staying out of the drama; c u @ the wedding)

Eloise: trots into a room full of her mother and siblings LOUDLY inquiring how a lady becomes pregnant; accuses a maid of writing a gossip column as if she does have much time on her hands to observe and overhear the secrets of those in her surroundings, and further write about it with an internal sassy voice like she doesn't have chores and duties to tend to everyday to survive; does everything in her power to avoid men, marriage, and anything to do with the opposite sex... except one (which is scandalous no matter how cute/innocent). tears apart her bff's room in haste after the shock effect of Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

Bonus) 'Mother' Bridgerton: nearly asked a servant to lie on her in need for her "garden" to be tended to

Here's some more events from Season 3 that is added on to Bridgerdums malfunctioning:

Benedict: insults someone again/talks without thinking; generally has no idea what's going on; shit's (ship's) going on right in front of his eyes and he has no idea (tbh this is everything that I expected from him and this is EVERYTHING (he's chilling); so obvious trying to escape the desper-taunt; sooooo obvious trying to chat it up with L.D./Aggie Danbury, my girl

Colin: where do I start...playing 'Where's Waldo' with his bff for half an episode; LYING LIAR WHO LIES, 17 cities...you went to 17 cities?! (i'm just shocked); perhaps we should go somewhere more private??? /rushes to apologize with full sentimental remarks (good); rushes to offer the help as previously mentioned; kisses his best friend to help her out it's only fair; "OF COURSE!"...back on the hunt for pretty bff; *ooh watching bff eat a pastry, malfunction ahh* -> buys the pastry; the entirrreee hot air balloon scene (he waits, he rushes...he's definitely a fight mode with mental gymnastics flight in the lead up); can't speak in the middle of a ball; downbadism yellow sheet drop; crashes a proposal, cuts in the dance, literally so obvious, *angry* "perhaps that is for the best"; chases down a carriage ON FOOT; the (in)FAMOUS carriage; chaotic proposal

Eloise: she hates socializing with men and she's gonna shout it; cracking jokes with The Plastics; oops loud queen...let the cat out of the bag; /forever the accuser (now w/Cressida, former queen of The Plastics); she HATES society, guys, I don't think you understand; "MY BROTHER?!???" x2 (3x04 deleted scene + 3x05 tick tock Lady Featheringdown)

Francesca: the most sane, but living up to her name; dun dun dun piano; introvert escape room expert; finds a man without talking to him; rushes out of the new boyfriend hang to play her piano

Gregory: fell and broke his arm being nosy AND faaaaaailedddd; dummy was just fascinated by a balloon

Hyacinth: she's gonna be trouble, we just know, ok/always always always right

[orchidsangel]

The holiday season with Jason would be the most comforting thing ever, no matter how you spend it. Thanksgiving through Christmas through New Year is basically you being reminded every day why you love him in the first place. He's so attentive and loving, always doing exactly what you need him to do without ever asking, including skipping out on the annual New Year's Wayne gala to spend the night in with you. It's not like he wanted to go anyway, but if you had, then he'd be rifling through his bedside drawer searching for cufflinks just as he had done many times before when you'd wanted to escape the mundaneness of regular civilian life. This year, however, you'd decided to ring in the new year at home, the illustrious and extravagant gala not seeming too appealing this time around. Now, you sit together on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap while he gently massages the muscle of your calf.

Remnants of dinner and dessert sit in empty bowls on the living room table, streaks of brown ganache on the back of a spoon you'd almost licked clean before Jason had pulled it out of your hand, a hearty laugh escaping the typically quiet man followed by a question of whether it was good or not; it was, he knew it was. They were just a couple of delicious experiments you'd helped him whip up as a last hoorah of sorts before settling down to watch the New Year's Eve performances. A star-studded brigade in sparkly costumes dances around your screen, the backing track of some Hot 100 hit playing loudly over the sound of people cheering, visible breaths appearing on the screen every time the camera pans to the audience. They must be freezing, you think, and pull your blanket over your shoulders at the thought of waiting for the ball to drop in this temperature. You feel Jason gently move your legs off of him, getting up to grab the bowls and plates off the table before putting them in the kitchen sink. The countdown on the TV catches your eye, twenty minutes till midnight, and you stand up from the couch, sliding your slippers on, and walking to the balcony door.

The squeaky sound of the sliding door is faint under the sound of the first fireworks going off. Dashes of gold and white paint the sky, the streams of hot light reflecting in your eyes as you watch night temporarily turn to day. You're not sure how much time passes, but pretty soon, the feeling of warmth surrounding you multiplies tenfold, and strong, muscular arms pull you flush against an equally strong and muscular body. Jason cages you in his arms, keeping you close to him as the last few minutes of the year pass, and his grip is tight, like he's scared he's going to lose you when the clock strikes twelve. The sound of crowds on the street counting down gets louder as the year comes to an end. You and Jason stand in silence, numbness settling into your fingers despite the layers of blanket and man wrapped around you. An eruption of screams breaks out, mixed in with some laughter and Happy New Year's, Jason's cue to turn you around by the waist and kiss you intently, swallowing your surprised gasp until it becomes a smile. New year, new me, they say, but you hoped to god Jason had picked a different resolution because the man in front of you was a man you never wanted to change.

(more than) inspired by this ask, and ik it's not new years anymore but i hope you still enjoy it !! it's a little rushed at the end, and for that i'm sorry but i wanted to post it before it got too far away from jan 1. wishing you all the best this year, and thank you for 300 followers <3

[heartstringsduet]

Favorite Fandom moments (this got way too long who is surprised) Thanks for tagging me: @tellmegoodbye @nisbanisba @reyesstrand

@welcometololaland @rmd-writes

@she-walked-away @everlastingday @strandnreyes

1. I binged season 1-3 in December 2022 by myself. A fun fact about me, i HATE procedurals. Usually I can manage a few episodes and enjoy them and then I think the formula of episodic rescues/crime solving is too boring. I thought I could maybe stay for the hot gay dudes I saw on my dash. But I fell in love with so much more than that. I rarely have shows with ensamble casts where I genuinely really like all characters. Michelle is the only exception. Goddamn that woman should only play faeries for the rest of her life. And weirdly, something I appreciate is watching these three seasons all by myself. It allowed me to really take the episodes in without any outside opinions or controversies or even over-hyping through others. I loved the show all by myself. And though a part of me wishes I would have found it earlier, I find a lot of joy in having these three seasons locked deep in my own heart, just for me.

2. Okay after all that too long blabbering, of COURSE I have to say the friends I made. Friendship has always been my biggest source of joy. Always. And I'm so blessed to have so many friends in my life, and more blessed to add people on my dash to them. If we text sometimes/often/daily or I just like your personal posts, know that I really care for what you put out there. You all matter to me, and I mean that.

3. Meeting some of you peeps IRL. And hoping to expand the list 💓

4. Sending out Holiday cards. Truly, I love doing it so much, even if the production last year was stressful I hope this year people will still be here and be interested in getting my lil card. And ofc I loved the ones I got back.

5. How creative and wonderful this fandom is. We are quite smol, but look at the big things we create. 2022 was the toughest year of my life, and a lot of what followed was an ebb and flow mentally, but one thing thatr eally helped me was to be more creative. And I thank every one of you who has left comments or sweet tags or created something themselves that keeps me motivated.

6. The Hello! Rafa/Ronen photoshoot . Still lives in my head rent-free.

7. Having people beta-read my humble writing. It helps me a lot! Just like reading fics by people whose writing I admire (y'all basically).

8. Fandom events. Like Gotcha charity, but also the Holiday exchanges and the watch parties and the server and so many little things in the cosmos of this fandom.

9. Even the disagreements. Idk. Very family dynamic to me and I don't mean to downplay how marginalized people are affected by some of it. But you tell me you hate someone's outfit and I will lovingly side-eye you like a cousin. It kind of is necessary to the eco system of fandom to not all be harmonious.

10. Most of all, how welcoming this fandom was from the very beginning. I try to be part of that. If I ever annoy you with engaging with personal posts, that's why. I want you to feel heard.

OPEN TAG (please use it if you want to participate and tag me back so I see!)

@herefortarlos @tellmegoodbye @paperstorm @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @lightningboltreader @reasonandfaithinharmony

@alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @carlos-in-glasses @carlos-tk

@rangersoup @freneticfloetry @literateowl @firstprince-history-huh

@neversleepuntilfive @certifiedflower @ironheartwriter @henrygrass

@never-blooms @whatsintheboxmh @girlsnightout304 @bonheur-cafe

@lutavero @guardian-angle22 @toomanycupsoftea @actual-sleeping-beauty

@butchreyes @goodways @thisbuildinghasfeelings @ladytessa74 @lemonlyman-dotcom

@birdclowns @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @ameriicansrequiems @ambiguouspenny

@liminalmemories21 @louis-ii-reyes-strand @chicgeekgirl89 @fitzherbertssmolder

[sassenach77yle]

|| COUNTDOWN || SEASON 1 EPISODE 04 || THE GATHERING ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

Rupert surveyed Jamie critically, with an eye to the oatstraws in his hair and the stains on his shirt. I saw his glance flicker to the oatstraws in my own hair, and a cynical grin split his face. “No wonder ye’re late, laddie,” he said, digging Jamie in the ribs. “Dinna blame ye a bit.” “Willie!” he called to one of the men outside. “We need some clothes, here. Something suitable for the laird’s nephew. See to it, man, and hurry!” Jamie looked around, thin-lipped, at the men surrounding him. Six clansmen, all in tearing high spirits at the prospect of the oath-taking and brimming over with a fierce MacKenzie pride. The spirits had plainly been assisted by an ample intake from the tub of ale I had seen in the yard. Jamie’s eye lighted on me, his expression still grim. This was my doing, his face seemed to say. He could, of course, announce that he did not mean to swear his oath to Colum, and head back to his warm bed in the stables. If he wanted a serious beating or his throat cut, that is. He raised an eyebrow at me, shrugged, and submitted with a fair show of grace to Willie, who rushed up with a pile of snowy linen in his arms and a hairbrush in one hand. The pile was topped by a flat blue bonnet of velvet, adorned with a metal badge that held a sprig of holly. I picked up the bonnet to examine it, as Jamie fought his way into the clean shirt and brushed his hair with suppressed savagery.

The badge was round and the engraving surprisingly fine. It showed five volcanos in the center, spouting most realistic flames. And on the border was a motto, Luceo non Uro. “I shine, not burn,” I translated aloud. “Aye, lassie; the MacKenzie motto,” said Willie, nodding approvingly at me. He snatched the bonnet from my hands and pushed it into Jamie’s, before dashing off in search of further clothing. “Er … I’m sorry,” I said in a low voice, taking advantage of Willie’s absence to move closer. “I didn’t mean—” Jamie, who had been viewing the badge on the bonnet with disfavor, glanced down at me, and the grim line of his mouth relaxed. “Ah, dinna worrit yourself on my account, Sassenach. It would ha’ come to it sooner or later.” He twisted the badge loose from the bonnet and smiled sourly at it, weighing it speculatively in his hand. “D’ye ken my own motto, lass?” he asked. “My clan’s, I mean?” “No,” I answered, startled. “What is it?” He flipped the badge once in the air, caught it, and dropped it neatly into his sporran. He looked rather bleakly toward the open archway, where the MacKenzie clansmen were massing in untidy lines.

“Je suis prest”

he replied, in surprisingly good French. He glanced back, to see Rupert and another large MacKenzie I didn’t know, faces flushed with high spirits and spirits of another kind, advancing with solid purpose. Rupert held a huge length of MacKenzie tartan cloth. Without preliminaries, the other man reached for the buckle of Jamie’s kilt. “Best leave, Sassenach,” Jamie advised briefly. “It’s no place for women.” “So I see,” I responded dryly, and was rewarded with a wry smile as his hips were swathed in the new kilt, and the old one yanked deftly away beneath it, modesty preserved. Rupert and friend took him firmly by the arms and hustled him toward the archway. I turned without delay and made my way back toward the stair to the minstrels’ gallery, carefully avoiding the eye of any clansman I passed. Once around the corner, I paused, shrinking back against the wall to avoid notice. I waited for a moment, until the corridor was temporarily deserted, then nipped inside the gallery door and pulled it quickly to behind me, before anyone else could come around the corner and see where I had gone. The stairs were dimly lit by the glow from above, and I had no trouble keeping my footing on the worn flags. I climbed toward the noise and light, thinking of that last brief exchange.

“Je suis prest.” I am ready. I hoped he was.

Cap 9 The gathering ~outlander

[andaniellight]

I love how you agree that 001 is down bad for 456. Like... just kiss already.

Dude, it's lowkey terrifying, to be honest, because so far it's been for shits and giggles only. I swear, this tropes is about to be added into the "overused" shelf at this point bUT IT DOESN'T MEAN IT CAN'T BE ENTERTAINING, STILL. TO ME. SO BLESS BLESS BLESS GIFMAKERS AND MY MUTUALS for bringing those two into my dash since I've already heard ENOUGH from sources whose tastes are similar to mine so it is safe to say I can trust them when they say season 2, to put it mildly, not as good as the first season (derogatory in the most spiteful way) in sooo many aspects.

I can't put it down, is the thing. I haven't even moved past episode 1, knowing they're reusing the old elements that'd make the entire thing redundant and a waste of time. But when I think about if Jun-ho's existence is also included in the sphere of this... situationship or something between Gi-hun and In-ho...... I can't lie, it is hysterical because wHAT DO YOU MEAAAN YOU'VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH LOOKING FOR YOUR BROTHER, WHO ISN'T 100% YOUR BIOLOGICAL BROTHER THAT'S DISAPPEARED SINCE YEARS AGO, yet somehow you're always drawn to this particular man in the oddest way possible because NOT ONLY THIS MAN HAS GONE THROUGH SIMILAR ORDEAL AS YOU IN A PLACE WHERE YOU FINALLY FOUND YOUR BROTHER, yet at the same time not knowing this man MIGHT BE YOUR BROTHER'S TYPE

IN THE MOST SOULMATE SHIT KIND OF WAY??????????????????????????

Smh siblings

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

You put a lot small visual elements and details in that I never seem to notice on my first read, and it always makes rereading exciting. What’s a detail from the comic that nobody ever seemed to notice? I’m sure there are things that nobody has mentioned, especially from the early chapters, that you’d want to talk about

Oh man.........that's a great question.

The thing is, there are a lot of details that people don't pick up, but there are definitely eagle-eyed readers that also do! There are also details which most didn't pick up until someone posted about it, and now everyone knows!

There are also details which are actually... yet to be revealed as relevant! That's a secret tool that'll help us later. :)

But most of it is plot relevant decisions I make which make the story more full, but are not necessarily NECESSARY for full enjoyment.

For example, in the very first comic, when Earl approaches Steven....

Her eye isn't white! That was a fully deliberate decision. She didn't actually approach Steven because he wanted her to. That was a decision she made on her own!

Most of the white eye shenanigans in Season 1 were deliberate, albeit not very explicit. I suppose that worked out okay, though. Plus, many people DID catch on!

Also, this part in the Kindergarten comic:

...which people assumed was a power separate from everything, is actually just the first instance of Steven's Command power. The thing is, I hadn't settled into how to portray it at the time, and also - the gem is Corrupted! It doesn't respond to Steven's commands the same way normal gems do. I planned to explore that earlier initially, but in the end, decided to tie it into much later plot.

In Season 1, EP 38, Steven asks Earl to write her name.... and she does! But in gem, not English, because she doesn't know how to write in English.

She designates herself as White Pearl, putting the dash over the top diamond. It was at the time when she was still anxious about making Steven - White Diamond - angry with her.

And to add to the eye thing - during the Season finale of Season 2, when Steven wondered if Earl only came to see him because he forced her to - the comic where she finds him in the water proves otherwise!

Immediately when she grabs him and swims up, her eyes aren't white! She's doing it of her own accord.

Also, in Season 3's opening, when Rose is angry at what she THINKS is White Diamond, she almost has a slip of the tongue when talking about the past.

There's a very pointed reason that panel of Earl is right there next to Rose's cut-off 'My...'

Also, when Rose leaves Steven in the Containment Sphere - the Baby Jail Bubble - she unlocks it to leave, and you can pretty clearly see an interesting detail.

(which Steven, of course, doesn't notice.)

There's also a bit of a narrative tongue in cheek line-up which is accidental on Steven's part but still rings true:

(TVTropes editors caught this one! Hey TVTrope editors!)

Also, this very famous Seaglass foreshadowing:

The first instance of Steven connecting to tech was in the beginning of this season!

When Steven has a bad dream after fusing with Earl and forming Bleached Coral, there's a hidden detail in this reflective text from Nightmare Rose:

(It might be easier to read if you mirror-flip it.)

Another fun thing I enjoyed doing before I got busy with other stuff is gem language! Earl writes Steven notes in it to help him learn, and now signs with her English name,

In the Cluster Experiments comic, if you look at the panels before stuff starts to Happen, you can find a few Experiments hiding in the background. :)

In Amethyst's room, there is a Japanese stopsign and a d20 in the background.

In episode 25 of season 4, Steven is playing Moonlight Sonata!

In episode 33, the ship Steven connects to displays a bisection of the earth which showcases its lumpy core! Or rather, the megastructures that are hidden deep inside the mantle.

It also showcases a few geothermal coring sites made during the colonization.

And by the way, the drill Pearl built was actually a repurposed ship hull which was used for the Space Race ship in the original show!

And man there are actually... many more! But I had to skip over them because they are alluding to things which have not yet been explicitly revealed! :D

But even with this, I'm sure there are other ones I'm missing. If you think you have one that should be listed - throw it on a reblog or in the comments!

[effloradox]

what would you do, if you only knew (that i can see you)

thomas thorne x ghost hunter+fem!reader (set during season 2 episode 1)

synopsis: being able to see ghosts for most of your life almost seemed to force you into being a ghost-hunter of sorts (not that your boss is actually good at his job), it’s only on a trip to button house and a reunion with an old friend from your student days that your ability actually comes into use after a run in with a particularly dashing ghost

a/n: this is massively inspired by the song i can see you by taylor swift, the plot just came into my head after listening to it and here we are, it was meant to fulfil one of the requests i’ve been sent but it went so far from the prompt that i decided to make it a separate fic and do another fic for the prompt

-

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not sure how you ended up in the ghost hunting business. It’s not something you even thought was a real job when you were a kid, it seemed like something you'd see people doing in the cartoons you watched. It was only after a close call when you were a teenager that almost killed you that you realised that you could see ghosts.

It made living in London quite difficult, the sheer amount of people who’s spirit hadn’t moved on was difficult to deal with but you managed to set yourself up with the so-called Ghostmaster General and it gave you a steady stream of work going round the country with him seeing if the buildings were actually haunted or not. You’d never explicitly said you could see ghosts to your employer but you could express enough knowledge that he kept choosing you to go on the trips. When photos of a grey lady surfaced on Facebook and Twitter from a mansion in Hemel Hempstead your boss had called on you immediately to join him on the trip.

Button House didn’t seem to be any different than the countless other manor houses you’d seen over the past few years. It's in a worse state of repairs than you're used to but aside from that it seems like every other fake haunted house you've visited. You’d left your boss to sort out whether you were being allowed inside the house, not wanting to drag the many bags of equipment to the front gates if you were going to have to just bring them back to the van. It’s only when he gives you the go-ahead to go and start setting equipment up inside that you grab a few bags and make your way towards the entrance.

It's with a jolt of surprise that you realise you recognise one of the owners of the house. You’d been friends with Alison at university until the two of you had both finished your degrees and parted ways, keeping in touch only to wish each other a happy birthday or similar milestones.

“Alison, hey!” The woman looked your way at her name, and her face bloomed into a confused smile when her eyes fell on you.

“Hey! Oh my god!” She pulled you into a hug as soon as you were within arms reach and you did your best to reciprocate without hitting her with the equipment bag slung over your shoulder.

“This is your house?”

“Yeah, well it was my great-step-aunt’s house and I inherited it when she died.”

“That’s amazing! Much easier than trying to get lucky with London real estate.”

“So how did you end up doing this?” Alison gestures vaguely to the bag pulled across your shoulder. It’s all you can do to shrug your shoulders lightly, trying to look as blasé as possible as you readjust the strap before it starts to slip down.

“It pays the bills.”

You couldn’t help but notice how nervous Alison was about the whole situation she’d found herself in but you chalked it up to nerves about having so many strangers in her home and didn’t think to push it. She’s kind enough to give you directions up to one of the rooms near the attic that your boss has assigned for the thermal camera currently resting against your shoulder. You agree to a cup of tea and a catch up before making your way to the room.

Everything was going normally with the equipment setup until you suddenly heard a voice shouting down a corridor. It immediately pulled your attention from the camera you were setting up, your eyes trained on the closed door to the room you're in waiting to hear footsteps approaching. When silence lay steady, your focus returned back to the camera.

It takes a great deal of self-control to try not to flinch when a figure suddenly comes through the closed door. You try not to let your eyes flicker away from the camera but can’t help but quickly scan the figure. It’s not the grey ghost you saw in the pictures, the man is dressed like a scout for some reason and the only abnormal thing about him is the arrow sticking out of his neck. You can’t help but wince slightly at that, what a terrible way to go. The ghost is talking to himself apparently in a thick northern accent or that’s what you assumed until another ghost steps through the door.

It takes everything within you to not stare at this ghost. He’s clearly from a few hundred years ago based on his attire but he might be the most beautiful man you’re ever laid eyes on. He was mid-sentence when he walked through the door saying something about finding the others but his voice trailed off when he looked in your direction.

“But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and you are the sun.” The way his voice carries the words is nothing short of reverent and you can practically feel the embarrassment rushing through your body. It's not the first time a ghost has found you attractive but normally they're plague victims or half-mad, they don't normally look as though they've just stepped away from a recreation of Pride and Prejudice.

“Thomas! It's not polite to stare.” The scout almost looks apologetic which is quite sweet given that there’s no way he can know that you can see him but his words have done nothing to deter Button House’s version of Mr Darcy.

“And yet we hang the most beautiful paintings ever created in galleries so that the masses may gaze upon their beauty. Would you deny me a similar experience Pat?”

As nice as it is to have someone speak about you like that, you’re aware that it’s going to be very difficult to get through the night if you have a ghost following you and all but swooning over you. Part of you wonders if you could try and feign being sick but also you know how one-track minded your boss will be about this house and there’s no way he’ll be willing to leave to drive you into the nearest town to get a train back to London.

You hear the familiar sounds of the camera as it’s finally finished setting up facing the door and, as you expected, shows no sign of any heat signatures. You decide to leave your other bag in the room for now, choosing instead to go and find Alison. The two ghosts are mid-debate as to whether it’s polite to stare at someone who doesn’t know they’re being stared at as you walk over to the door.

It’s with slightly shaking hands that you twist the handle on the door, opening it as calmly as possible as you try to remember your way out of the house. You can hear the ghosts talking in the room and the voices don’t seem to be getting any further away but the only cohesive thought in your mind is that you have to track down Alison and ask her what she knows about the house.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Alison laughs nervously at her joke but it does nothing to relax you.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Okay?”

“Outside.” Alison must see something in your expression that worries her because she allows you to take her by the arm and gently leads you to the front door. It's only when the front door is closed behind you and you can't see anyone dead or alive around that you find your anxiety easing. When you stop moving, you make sure to have your back to the front door, if only to put yourself at ease.

“Are you okay?” You’re about to speak when a voice cuts through the silence.

“Alison! You must reveal the name of this fair maiden at once! Her beauty outshines the sun in a way I never believed possible up until this very moment.” You have to give credit to Alison, she's very good at hiding the flinch when a voice suddenly appears from through the front door. It's only from a lifetime of doing something similar that you catch it, and you watch her eyes darting to something behind you before looking back towards you.

“Sorry, did you say something?” To give Alison credit, her voice only wavers slightly after the interruption. Maybe it’s unfair of you but when you speak, you make sure to do so in a quieter tone than you would normally. You have to be sure that she can see and hear him before you say anything and if you can make it harder for her to hear you under the loud gushing of the ghost then you’ll do what you can.

“I think there’s something upstairs.” You try to pay close attention to any reactions that Alison has to your comment but it’s very difficult once the ghost appears by your side. Up close he really is gorgeous. It’s almost a shame he’s dead because if you saw him in public you’d want his number in a heartbeat. It’s very hard to not let your eye wander in his direction, especially when he’s so close to you. He hasn’t stopped talking since he appeared through the door and whilst you’re more than used to a chatty ghost, you can see that Alison is getting more and more distracted by him.

“Alison! I must insist you express how ardently I admire this fair lady immediately or I shall never give you a moment of peace!” The threat, however serious he is about it, seems to be the final breaking point for your friend, whose face shoots in his direction.

“Thomas, stop talking for one second!” Even the ghost seems surprised by her outburst, staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. She catches her mistake in an instant, staring at you with an almost mortified expression as she waits for your reaction.

“I’m guessing you have more than two ghosts here then?”

“What?” Alison’s voice is tentative, like she’s waiting for you to either laugh in her face or run away screaming. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I can see them too.”

“What?!” You don’t blame Alison for being surprised, it’s not something you ever told her during your time as students, not even when you had both had a bit too much to drink and your secrets spilled easily. You’d learned early into your time seeing ghosts that telling people the truth was a quick way to alienate yourself from friends and peers alike. It was much easier to lie and say you were just an anxious person by nature who startled easily than to explain that you flinched every time you saw a particularly gruesome looking ghost.

“Sorry for not telling you. Pat seems really nice.”

“Oh my god.” A beat passes as the news sinks in, and then another wave of acceptance seems to reach Alison and with it comes another shout. “Oh my god! You can hear him?” She points in Thomas’ direction and the ghost in question has the good grace to look somewhat mortified by the idea you’ve spent the past thirty minutes listening to him regale you with compliments that he thought you couldn’t hear.

“I can.” For a ghost that’s just spent the better part of an hour showering you with compliments, he suddenly seems unable to string a sentence together. It’s easy to put him out of his misery though. “You’re very handsome by the way. I’m very flattered.” His face goes red at the compliment and, for the first time since he appeared in front of you, he seems genuinely speechless. Alison seems to be in a similar state.

“Does your boss know?”

“Absolutely not! I didn’t want to spend most of my adult life being ridiculed for something no one would ever believe to be true. Have you told anyone?”

“Mike knows. Kind of hard not to tell him with so many of them.” Mike is quickly making his way into your good books with everything you hear about him and you make a mental note to buy him a nice bottle of wine for being such a supportive husband.

“How many have you got?”

“Too many.” You let out a soft noise of consideration before turning to the still shocked ghost standing beside you.

“Would you introduce me to your friends?” Thomas seems to snap out of his shock at your request, bowing slightly and extending a hand in your direction. It’s a sweet gesture even though both of you know you can’t physically take his hand.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I’ll uh, catch up with you later?”

“You might want to worry about the twenty-something ghost hunters running amok in your house first.” Alison pales slightly at the reminder of what situation has brought the three of you to where you currently are.

“Oh god. I need to go and find Mike.” Your friend is quick to dash back inside her house, leaving the door open for you and Thomas to follow her. Manly you, since he could just phase through the door again.

“Shall we Lady-uh…” It’s only in that moment that you realise Alison never actually told Thomas your name and you’re quick to correct that.

“(Y/N).” You supply.

“Lady (Y/N).”

“We shall.” Thomas walks towards the house first, waiting just beyond the door for you to follow him. Your only thought as you walk through the door is that you hope you don’t run into your boss for the next thirty minutes or so otherwise you might have some explaining to do.

[fantasyescapes17]

Wings (Part 4)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU. You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: Discussions of social anxiety, one f-bomb (yes shy Miss Yoon drops an f-bomb sue me) smoking (don't smoke kids, the characters in this story are from a time when they didn't know how bad it was for their health)

Word Count: 6.2k+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Series Masterlist [You WILL need to read Patience, the earlier installment in this series first in order to understand the character dynamics in this story. Reading Candle before this is also strongly recommended.]

Confessing to your sister-in-law that you were in love with Mr. Kim Mingyu somehow made your feelings for him seem more real than ever. It was as though saying the words aloud had allowed the true extent of your affection for him to finally come out of hiding. 

The idea of confessing your love to him did not come without apprehension. But the clock was ticking and you had no other viable option. You were in danger of losing Mr. Kim in any case; if you were silent and married someone else, it would still be the end of your friendship as you knew it. Once married, it would be unseemly to maintain even a close friendship with a gentleman who was not your husband. 

So you had no choice. 

You had to show him your heart and hope for the best. 

The opening of Mr. Kim’s art gallery was a spectacular event at which no expense had been spared. You entered the new building and immediately saw all the most elite members of the ton gathered in one place. The Viscount and Viscountess Hong and even the Duke and Duchess of Graham had turned up for Mr. Kim’s opening. You were impressed by Mr. Kim’s prowess in being able to gather all these high-ranking members of the ton for his grand opening.

Your mother insisted on accompanying you to the event. She was not very pleased with Mr. Kim (‘If he was seriously courting you, he should have proposed by now! What can he be waiting for?’ she often complained) but even her displeasure would not cause her to absent herself from one of the season’s most awaited events. She forced you to stay near her as you walked around to admire the displayed paintings and sculptures. Your mother's eyes, however, were on the people and not the paintings.

“If Mr. Kim is not going to propose, then I think you must focus your attention on Baron Wright instead,” your mother hissed in your ear as you tried to admire a large painting of a young woman. “The season is coming to an end. This is the ideal time for a proposal.” 

You said nothing. 

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, mother. Isn’t this portrait quite lovely? I love how the artist has captured the sheer quality of the lace on her gown,” you said. There was no arguing with your mother when it came to Baron Wright. You had no option but to try to turn her attention away from him. 

“Yes, yes,” your mother mumbled, barely glancing at the painting. “Ah! I see Mrs. Patty! I must ask her whether she has seen Baron Wright of late, I am so worried that he shall leave London without saying a word to us…” 

You were relieved when she hurried away, leaving you behind. You slipped through the crowd in search of Mr. Kim. He was not difficult to find. He was surrounded by a group of people who were congratulating him on the successful gallery opening. Of course. He was the star of tonight's event. 

Mr. Kim stood tall, in a particularly dashing black suit that you had never seen him wear before. He was handsome; you were not noticing that for the first time but it was the first time you allowed yourself to fully acknowledge the warmth and happiness that exploded inside of you at the sight of his smile. 

He looked up. His twinkling eyes met yours and his smile widened. You waited patiently until he excused himself from the conversation and strode towards you confidently. 

"And what is little Miss Yoon doing here all alone?" Mr. Kim asked with a playful grin as he offered you his arm. 

"I managed to slip away from my mother," you told him. You took his arm. "But never mind her. This gallery is beautiful. I never knew you had such taste for art, Mr. Kim."

Your compliments seemed to please him. He grinned down at you. "I told you I was a patron of the arts. This is nothing. My private collection at home is much more selective and exquisite."

"I should love to see it someday," you said lightly. 

"And it would be my pleasure to show it to you," he answered smoothly. "There are a few pieces here tonight that I think you might enjoy. May I?"

"Lead the way."

You found nothing more enjoyable than allowing Mr. Kim to lead you around the room and show you his favourite artwork. Some of the paintings had stories behind them- others were simply visual masterpieces. You saw portraits of kings and paintings of forests and vast landscapes. 

"This one is a particular favourite of mine," Mr. Kim said as he paused in front of a beautiful oil painting of a small grey bird inside a cage. The cage door was open; another brightly coloured bird with enormous feathers and large wings was hovering near the cage door as though coaxing the grey bird to come out. 

You stared at it for a long moment. 

"It's beautiful," you whispered. 

"I think the colourful bird can't understand why the grey bird chooses to sit in the cage," Mr. Kim said thoughtfully. 

"But his wing is broken."

"What?"

You stepped closer to the small painting and gestured towards the grey bird's wings. The wings were tucked close to the bird's body but upon closer inspection, one of them was angled differently from the other. 

"I don't think the grey one can fly," you said quietly. "So for him, the cage is safe and not a trap."

Mr. Kim was silent for a long moment. "I hadn't noticed that," he admitted. "Clearly you are more observant than I am. I thought it was a lesson on spreading your wings and taking risks."

"Or perhaps it is a lesson on communication," you suggested. 

"Or perhaps the artist simply drew a pair of birds and we are projecting our interpretations of deeper meaning onto them," he continued with a chuckle. "Well; there concludes our tour of the art gallery."

You frowned. "We have not seen that hallway yet."

Mr. Kim rubbed the back of his neck and suddenly looked rather sheepish. "Perhaps we had better not tour that one together."

"Why not?"

"It is not… appropriate."

"What could be inappropriate about some paintings?" you demanded. You turned towards the hallway before Mr. Kim could stop you and paused at the first painting. You realised your mistake immediately. This was an enormous nude portrait of a woman looking out of a window wearing a scrap of silk that covered none of her intimate parts. 

"O-oh," you said quickly. 

Mr. Kim cleared his throat behind you. "I told you it was inappropriate."

You took a deep breath. "I-I have seen paintings such as these before," you tried to say smoothly. You turned around to see that Mr. Kim was biting back a smile as he looked at you. "It is… it is merely art."

"Indeed," he said, the corners of his lips twitching as they upwards. "Art."

Your embarrassment was becoming more difficult to conceal. "The-the human form is a commonly chosen subject for artists, and of course among polite adults there is nothing to be ashamed of and-are you laughing at me?"

Mr. Kim could not control his laughter. He gently but firmly steered you away from the hallway of nude paintings, laughing all the while as you scolded him for ridiculing you. 

"You are too innocent, Miss Yoon," Mr. Kim told you once he was able to stop laughing. "I will not allow your corruption to be on my conscience."

You frowned. "I am a lady."

"Yes, and I am a gentleman who will not encourage you to do things which are not ladylike," he replied. 

"It is a bit late for that," you mumbled. You lowered your voice and leaned a little closer to him. "You have been so busy with the gallery that I have not seen you in over a week and I am simply dying for a smoke. Jeonghan keeps his cigars locked up in his study."

Mr. Kim's eyes twinkled as he looked down at you. "Is this what my position in your life has been reduced to? I thought perhaps we were friends but it appears I am little more than your cigar supplier."

"You can be both," you replied. "Do you have one or not?" 

He lowered his voice. "Of course, I have one. Go back through that door- there are some storerooms there. I will join you in a few moments."

You followed his instructions and slipped through the door that Mr. Kim had pointed out. You trusted him implicitly; in all the clandestine smoking sessions that you had indulged in with Mr. Kim you had never gotten close to being caught by another soul. 

But this evening was far more than your usual little smoke and chat. 

This evening you would finally tell him you loved him. 

The storeroom was a small dusty room filled with large easels and paintings that had white cloths thrown over them to protect them from the elements. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves as you waited impatiently for Mr. Kim. The door opened a few moments later and he entered with a smile. 

"I have your cigar," he said, holding it up. "We must be quick; I have guests waiting to speak to me outside so we only have time for one."

You glanced at the cigar in his hand. "What is that?"

"Your cigar, my lady."

"Don't you have any of the Cuban ones?"

Mr. Kim's mouth dropped open in mock offence. "The Cuban ones? What; do local cigars offend my lady's sensibilities? Does your delicate constitution only permit you to smoke imported cigars?"

"Yes," you replied with a smile. "Hand over the Cubans."

"I will not. I have spent enough money on your cigar habit already. I may have to start selling my paintings en masse if I am to continue to purchase foreign cigars for you at this rate."

"Hand over the Cubans, Mr. Kim."

"I do not have any."

You made a sudden and bold move- one that you did not pause to think through, or else you would never have dared to do it. You stepped closer to Mr. Kim so that you were right in front of him. He looked startled but did not move away. His warm, familiar scent enveloped you and you could hear his heavy breathing. 

"What are you doing, Miss Yoon?" he asked quietly. 

"Looking for Cubans."

You placed your hands on the lapels of his suit and slowly slid them down. Mr. Kim watched you silently as your fingers undid his coat buttons- first one, and then the other. Then you slid your hand into his coat and reached for his inner pocket. 

Mr. Kim stared down at you. His eyes were dark and lidded as your hands delicately brushed his torso and felt for his inner jacket pocket. Your hand finally stilled; fingers brushing the cigars. 

"Found them," you whispered. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "You liar."

There was a brief moment of silence. Mr. Kim's eyes had an almost wild sort of hunger that you had never seen in them before. It sent a thrilling shiver down your spine. You were inches away from him. Nothing about this situation was appropriate- the two of you in this storeroom nor the cigars. 

But this closeness… the look in his eyes…

This was beyond mere social inappropriateness. Your hand on Mr. Kim's chest and his heavy breathing as he stared down at you made one thing quite clear. The delicate line that you had been dancing around for months had just been crossed. 

It was not a blatant violation. There was still a chance to step back. You could apologise for having toed the line and claim it was a mistake, that in your desperation to look for the cigars you had not thought about how it would appear-

Mr. Kim leaned down and kissed you. 

You had been kissed before (there was that innocent little dalliance with the stableboy from many years ago) but you had never been kissed like this. His lips were hot as they covered yours and his hands were hot as one of them cupped your face and the other came around your waist to pull your body flush against his. 

Every place he touched with his hands and lips set you on fire. 

You gasped into his mouth; he did not waste the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips and his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck. 

You could not think. You could not breathe. You melted against him completely and allowed yourself to run your hands over his toned chest and shoulders while Mr. Kim continued to press warm kisses to your lips and jaw. 

He pulled back for a moment, forehead pressed against yours and breathing heavily. Your breath mingled and the room was silent except for the sound of your combined heavy breathing. 

"Mingyu," you whispered. "I-"

There was a loud noise outside the storeroom. You both froze. Mr. Kim swiftly pushed you so that you were hidden behind a large easel covered in a white sheet and out of sight of the door. 

"I-it's probably just the gallery staff," he said anxiously. His dark eyes searched yours as he slowly released you and stepped back. 

A sudden emptiness flooded you as you realised, he was leaving you. 

"No, wait-"

"I will go out and send whoever it is away. Come out of the storeroom after at least two minutes," Mr. Kim said quickly before he swiftly exited the storeroom. 

You stared after him in shock. 

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

You could not sleep all night. Mr. Kim had avoided you for the rest of the gallery opening. Once your mother understood that Baron Wright was not in attendance, she had preferred to leave early, and you were forced to return home without a chance to speak to him again. 

Would Mr. Kim propose? Perhaps it was too soon for that. But he would come speak to you to understand your feelings and explain his, you were sure of it. That kiss had not been for nothing. Mr. Kim would not have kissed you if he did not feel the same way about you.

You waited. 

And waited.

And waited. 

Two days later, Jeonghan called you into his study while your mother was away from home. You felt anxious, not knowing what your brother wanted to discuss. Perhaps this was it, perhaps Mr. Kim had thought it was best to approach your brother before the proposal?

Jeonghan looked tired as he closed the study door behind you and turned to you with a sigh. 

"Baron Wright has asked for permission to propose to you," Jeonghan said. He noticed the instant panic that flashed across your face and lifted a hand to calm you. "I have not answered him yet- do not worry. I told him that I would discuss it with you and let him know."

You shook your head frantically. "I-I don't want to marry Baron Wright."

"I expected so. It appears your mother has been strongly encouraging him to propose. Sister- I do not want to pressure you but you know that time is running out and your mother will lose her mind if you are not engaged by the season's end."

You sank down into a chair near Jeonghan's desk and took a deep breath. You suddenly felt as though the walls of the room were closing in on you. Clearly Mr. Kim had feelings for you, so why was he sitting around while other men proposed? What was he doing with all this time? His failure to propose to you was only making things more complicated and confusing. 

"Has… nobody else asked?" you questioned Jeonghan finally. 

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow and leaned against his desk. "Are you expecting someone else to ask?"

You flushed in embarrassment. "No, no, I mean…"

"Sister, you have to tell me."

You took another deep breath and tried to calm the racing thoughts in your head. You could not figure out your next steps and the only person you trusted to guide you or help you was not here. 

"Have… have you spoken to Mr. Kim at all in the last few days?" you asked hesitantly. 

Jeonghan's eyes widened. "No. Should I have?"

"No, no-"

"Sister. Should I speak to Mr. Kim?"

"No!" you said quickly. "Not at all. I… I need some time to think. I will come back soon."

Jeonghan did not seem convinced but allowed you to leave the study. You walked out into the foyer as you considered your options. You had to marry by the end of the season and the thought of Baron Wright becoming your husband made you recoil in disgust. You wanted Mingyu and if he would not come to you, then you would have to go to him. 

It was evening; chances were high that Mr. Kim would be at either the assembly rooms or the gentleman's club. You could not gain entrance to the latter but if luck was in your favour, you might find him at the assembly rooms. 

You called for the carriage and set off immediately. 

The assembly rooms were crowded and you weaved through the people anxiously, hoping nobody would notice that you were without a chaperone and that you could find Mr. Kim quickly. 

"Miss Yoon!"

You jumped- but the voice that called out to you was not one that you need have worried about. The Viscountess Hong was smiling at you from one of the card tables. 

You greeted her anxiously. "Viscountess Hong."

"Would you like to join us for a game of cards? The stakes are not very high. We are only playing for fun," she said pleasantly. 

"Oh-thank you… no, I am afraid I must decline, I am actually looking for someone…."

"Who?" she asked quietly. 

You lowered your voice. "Mr. Kim."

The Viscountess stared at you for a brief moment. You felt suddenly ashamed under her curious gaze but she did not stare for long. She immediately turned to her husband and interrupted his conversation to ask. "Joshua- have you seen Mr. Kim this evening? I rather enjoy watching him lose to you at cards, it is very amusing."

The Viscount blinked at his wife. "Mr. Kim? No, he is not here. I believe he spends most of his time at the art gallery. I will ask him to join us one of these days."

The Viscountess gave you a meaningful look; you returned a silent smile of gratitude and left for the art gallery. 

The front entrance of the building was closed and the door appeared to be locked. The gallery closed at 5pm and it was already well past that. Hesitantly, you knocked on the large door panels and were relieved when a member of the staff opened it and peered at you. 

"I am terribly sorry, madam, the gallery is closed for the evening-"

"I was hoping to see Mr. Kim."

"Oh… yes, of course, please come in."

The staff member allowed you to enter the gallery and guided you towards a plush chair where you could sit while they disappeared into a back room to fetch Mr. Kim. Your heartbeat was thudding with anxiety. You had not prepared yourself for what to say to him, but usually speaking to Mr. Kim came so easily to you that preparation was rarely required…

Mr. Kim appeared a few moments later. His eyes widened when he saw you and he quickly dismissed the staff before walking towards you. 

"Miss Yoon," he said quietly. "It is very risky for you to be seen here-"

You cut him off, urgently stepping closer. "I had to speak to you, it could not wait. Time is running out, Mingyu. I need to be engaged by the end of the season and my mother has already encouraged Baron Wright to propose. I will have to give him an answer soon. "

Mr. Kim looked torn. You paused to notice how different he looked; his usually neatly parted hair was tousled and his suit jacket wrinkled. His face was pale. There was a heavy scent that hung around him- the usual smell of cigars combined with the pungent smell of whisky. 

"Have you been drinking?" you asked him suddenly. 

He would not make eye contact with you. Something was wrong and you had a sudden awful, foreboding feeling wash over you as Mr. Kim sat down on one of the plush chairs and ran his fingers shakily through his hair. 

"I'm sorry," he said, trembling. "I made a mistake."

Your heart sank. 

"What?"

"I should not have kissed you that evening. I-I took advantage of the situation and crossed the boundaries of friendship and propriety. You are a lady and you did not deserve to be treated like that, I would understand if you hated me…"

"But I do not hate you," you whispered. "I love you."

He visibly flinched at your confession. 

"You don't. You shouldn't."

"Why?" you demanded, confused.

"Because I do not deserve it. My intentions were impure from the moment I laid eyes on you. If I had truly wanted to help you find a husband, I would not have done half the things I did. I was playing a secret game- a game where the end result was you falling in love with me rather than finding you a husband."

You stared at him. The gallery was silent. You could hear nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat. 

"That can't be true…" you said quietly. "You… you were the only gentleman who was not performing this entire bloody pantomime, who spoke to me so naturally and honestly without ulterior motives…"

Mr. Kim looked up at you. His eyes were bloodshot and the corner of his lips curved up in a humourless smile. 

"That you still can't see it means that you are too innocent, too sweet, too trusting for your own good. I saw that- it was so deliciously tempting and I took advantage of it."

It did not make sense to you. Took advantage of what? No matter what he said, you did not feel taken advantage of. You had wanted to kiss him, you had wanted everything that he did and said to you. Not a single thing Mingyu had done had ever been unwelcome. 

"I can't understand what you are saying," you whispered. 

He ran his fingers through his hair again in frustration. "It was all calculated, Miss Yoon. Everything I did was calculated. Do you want a list of the techniques I used on you? I encouraged you to tell me about your deepest fears and used them to make you trust me. I stayed by your side constantly so that you would come to depend on me, and eventually my absence would feel hollow. I encouraged you to smoke cigars so that we would have a shared secret, something thrilling we shared that no other people could know of. Are these not the things that made you fall in love with me?"

"Y-yes, but…"

"Then I successfully manipulated you."

Your legs felt weak. Yes, yes, he was describing everything that had made you fall for Mingyu but why did he have to make them all sound so malicious? How could he take these feelings, these genuine feelings that you had for him and say that they were the result of some clever tactics he had used? 

"You manipulated me into falling in love with you?" you demanded. "So… to be clear, you do not think that I am truly in love with you?"

Mr. Kim shook his head. "How could you be? I have only ever shown you the parts of me that I intended to show you. Do you even know what I am like when I am not with you?"

"Why should I care what you are like when you are not with me?" you asked, bewildered. 

"You are naive to even ask that question."

Something inside of you broke at his harsh words. This was not the man you knew. A dark, ugly whirlpool of self-loathing and regret in your stomach suddenly emerged as you looked down at this man- this man that could stand here so calmly after you had exposed your most vulnerable thoughts to him and tell you that your love was merely the result of his manipulations and scheming.

You suddenly wanted to end this conversation. 

"Fine," you whispered. "So, I am naive, foolish and I fell for some trap that you set to intentionally ruin my life- is that all? Is that what I am to understand from all this?"

"Yes," he croaked. 

"Congratulations, Mr. Kim. If that is what you truly feel then I will leave you to celebrate your victory alone," you told him quietly. 

You walked towards the exit of the gallery before Mr. Kim could see how your hands were trembling, how your throat had closed up and your chest felt so tight that you thought it might explode. 

"I warned you that I was a rake," he said softly. 

You paused, hand on the door, and turned to look at him. "Then tell me one more thing," you choked out. "Did you love me?" 

He did not look at you. 

"I don't know."

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

You felt numb as the carriage brought you back home. It was as though your mind and body had shut down completely due to their inability to process the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm you. 

The carriage driver had to tap on the door thrice to inform you that you had arrived at the Yoon manor and needed to descend. 

You entered the foyer and walked towards the stairs, barely noticing that there was a commotion coming from the adjoining drawing room. Loud voices were arguing; the door opened in front of you and you had no choice but to go in. 

"There you are!" your mother cried furiously as she saw you. She grabbed your arm and pulled you into the drawing room further. You limply followed her, lacking the energy to resist. "Where have you been? How could you leave the house without saying a word to anybody?"

You opened your mouth to respond but she cut you off immediately. 

"Never mind that! Look; look at what this boy has done now! Baron Wright has approached your brother for your hand in marriage and he will not grant his permission!"

Jeonghan had his fingers pressed to his temples, as he often did when conversing with your mother. "I am not refusing to grant anything, madam, I am only waiting for my sister to make up her mind."

"About what?" your mother screeched. "What is there to make up her mind about the man is a Baron and he wishes to marry my daughter! There is nothing to discuss! We have already angered him by making him wait so long-"

Jeonghan frowned. "If he cannot wait even a few days for a response to his proposal-"

"He is a Baron!"

You flinched. Your head was aching so badly that every word you mother yelled felt like a knife in your flesh. She continued to yell at your brother and finally something inside of you snapped. 

You had had enough. 

"Will you shut up?" you yelled. Your hands were shaking. "Can you all shut up for one bloody second, do you not see that I am suffocating? Are you so blinded by your selfishness and hatred that you cannot even ask me if I want to marry the Baron? I can't breathe, mother, but that does not matter to you! You would drag me lifeless to the altar if I happened to die before the wedding!"

Your mother looked as though you had slapped her. 

"My dear, I-"

You wrenched her arm out of her grasp violently.

"Don't touch me. This has never been about me or my sister or Jeonghan. This has always been about you and your bloody selfishness. I will not marry the Baron. I am sick of being pushed about and doing things to make others happy and if you have a problem with that, mother, you can marry the fucking Baron yourself." 

The room was silent. For a moment even you could not believe what you had done- your mother gaped at you wordlessly, and even Jeonghan was stunned into silence. 

You turned and fled upstairs. 

It was too much; the combined emotions of the evening had overwhelmed you. The tears were streaming down your face but somehow it was incredibly important that nobody saw them. You ran up to your bedchambers, sank down on the floor next to the bed, pulled your knees up to your chest and cried. 

The sobs racked your body violently and it was almost a relief, because the physical pain of holding them in had been too difficult to bear. 

You cried because the man you thought you loved was lost to you. Because somehow, you had failed everyone- your sister, Jeonghan, mother… you had failed them all. Everything had gone wrong and it was all your fault. The way Mingyu's bloodshot eyes had looked up at you, the things he had said- innocent, naive, trusting….

You felt disgusted with yourself. 

He was right. You were stupid, naive and trusting. But despite all the misery you were going through, there was perhaps one very important, very crucial and painful lesson that Mingyu had, intentionally or not, taught you. 

You would never trust again.  

There was a knock on your door. Jeonghan's voice called out to you gently from the other side. 

"Sister?" he said as the door creaked open. His tone was gentle. "Are you here?"

"Yes," you choked out. 

"That was quite a scene you made with your mother," he said with a chuckle. "She hasn't spoken a word since you left. I thought her discovery of our sister's affair was bad, but I think you have broken her far beyond that."

You said nothing. 

Jeonghan came around the side of the bed. He saw you curled up in the corner with your tear-stricken face. He sighed and kneeled beside you. 

"Is there anyone I need to speak to?" he asked gently. 

You shook your head. "No."

"What shall we do?"

"Let's please just go home."

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

The words ‘innocent’, ‘naive’, and ‘trusting’ rang like bells in your head and you heard them in Mr. Kim’s voice in your waking dreams and nightmares. You heard them constantly, over and over, chanting in a rhythm that matched the hoofbeats of the horses that pulled your carriage away from London and back towards your countryside home. 

They pierced you so deeply because they were true. You had been warned- every single person you met had told you that Mr. Kim was a notorious rake. Even your sister-in-law had brought him in to mentor you because he was the best at the game. 

You had stumbled blindly into a game that you barely understood and tried to take on a man who had been the ace, the savant for years. What had you been thinking? You may as well have walked up to Mr. Kim Mingyu and handed him your heart on a silver platter. 

No, you thought. There is no use crying over it now. Mr. Kim was right. You had been innocent, naive and trusting. And despite all the pain you were going through, there was one very important lesson that Mingyu had taught you. Like a fledgling bird pushed out of the nest too soon, you had landed on the ground but you were prepared for your next flight. You would not allow yourself to be pushed around and used and manipulated. You would not be taken under anyone’s wings. 

You would find your own wings. 

And you would start with the woman who had been suffocating you from the moment you were born- your mother. 

Your sister was waiting at the front entrance of the manor as the carriage rolled up to your familiar countryside manor. She ran towards you- she had received letters from Jeonghan and heard everything that he knew, including that you had refused to marry Baron Wright. The anxiety on her face was evident. 

“Oh my dear sister!” 

She embraced you warmly; you took a deep breath and inhaled her familiar scent and hugged her, blinking back the tears in your eyes. You had missed her deeply. You pulled back and gave her a gentle, watery smile. 

“Are you all right?” she asked you nervously. 

You nodded. “I am excellent, sister. And I have wonderful news. We have to prepare for a wedding this winter.” 

Her eyes widened. “But I thought… Jeonghan said you turned down Baron Wright…” 

You shook your head. 

“The wedding we are preparing for is yours.” 

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

Your mother gave up expressing her displeasure after it became clear to her that not a single person in the Yoon household, least of all her precious youngest daughter, cared two bits for what she thought. She walked around the house bemoaning her lot in life and how Jeonghan had turned both her daughters against her. You felt no sympathy. You were tired of living under your mother’s reign of fear and anxiety- indeed, she was partly to blame for your proclivity to anxiousness and nervous breakdowns. 

You refused to allow your failure- no, your decision- not to marry to stop your sister from attaining her own happiness. 

“Are you sure?” your sister asked you anxiously as the modiste fussed about her skirts and fitted her wedding gown. “Are you quite sure about this, sister? It will be very difficult for you when you go into London next season and the entire ton associates you with me.” 

You shook your head. “I do not care.” 

“But you do not understand how difficult it is to enter society when everyone is gossiping about…” 

You gave her a firm look and she fell silent. Your sister knew you too well not to notice the change in you; you were not the same shy, innocent girl who she had sent away to London a few months ago. There was a mixture of sadness and understanding in her eyes as she nodded and turned her attention back to her wedding gown. 

“We will need to tuck this part in here…” the modiste murmured. 

You frowned. “Hurry. The wedding is in barely two days.” 

“I can get it done in time.” 

There was a knock on the door and one of the modiste’s assistants poked her head into the dressing room anxiously. “Mr. Choi is here, madam. He is waiting outside the shop.”

You stood up quickly before your sister could speak. “He cannot see my sister in her wedding gown. I will go speak to him.” 

You hurried outside and saw Seungcheol standing anxiously near the entrance to the shop. His son- little Jiwoo with his father’s eyes and smile- was standing with him and he beamed when he saw you, waving his hands in greeting eagerly. You smiled back at the boy. 

“Jiwoo! You have grown so tall!” you told him brightly. 

Jiwoo blushed proudly. 

Seungcheol smiled down at his son for a moment before turning to you. There was a certain anxiousness in his kind eyes. He had been anticipating this wedding for a long time, and it was evident that he was just as nervous, if not more, than your sister inside. 

“Have you not heard that it is bad luck to see the bride in her wedding gown?” you scolded Seungcheol. 

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I only wanted to be sure everything is going well.” 

“Everything is going perfectly. I am taking care of things so you, Mr. Choi, can wait at your home,” you told him firmly. “Unless you are having second thoughts about the wedding. In which case I shall be obliged to inform you that I know where Jeonghan keeps his hunting rifles and I am not afraid to use them.” 

He chuckled. “There will be no need for that.” 

“Good.” 

Seungcheol gave you a small smile. “Your sister has informed me that any mention of postponing the wedding until next season makes you incredibly angry so I will not suggest it to you. Instead-let me say thank you. Thank you for doing this for us.” 

You shook your head. “No- I am sorry that you had to wait because of me.” 

“That was not your fault.” 

“Perhaps not,” you said quietly. “Perhaps I did not ask for it, but it was decided that way for my benefit. I have allowed other people to decide things for me for too long. It is time I chose what makes me happy and nothing would make me happier than seeing you marry my sister.” 

Seungcheol reached out to clasp your hand in both of his. His words were warm and genuine. “You will always be welcome at our home.” 

You bit your lip and smiled. 

“Thank you.” 

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

[adickaboutspoons]

When a Steard is not a Beard

I want to talk about the significance of Stede's beard in the opening dream sequence of s2e1, and how we know from Lucius in the first season that "not every beard is a beard". Of course SOME beards are just beards - most of the Revenge and QA crew sport face fuzz of some sort or another, and it's just How They Look. But, narratively speaking, when attention is called to facial hair in this show, it's all about deception and hiding one's true self.

We have Blackbeard, who has built his brand around his eponymous facial fur, but feels stifled by the way the success of said brand has left him bored out of his skull, and frustrated by the way his reputation has been co-opted and twisted into something inhuman. (And by poor Taika's accounts, the beard itself was literally stifling; unbearably hot to wear, and how he could hardly move the bottom half of his face lest the glue start peeling off). It's only when Ed shaves it off at the academy that he's able to start really approaching the question of what it means to be Just Ed. And, of course, we have the way he smeared kohl across his mouth and jaw in a frightful simulacrum of a beard as part of his Kraken transformation at the end of season 1.

We have Jim, who uses a fake beard to conceal their identity while on the run after having killed Alfeo de la Vaca. Only once that beard is discarded are they able to really think about who they are and how that doesn't fit in the narrow parameters of a gender binary. We see them go back into the beard when they re-commit themself to the vengeance quest, posing as a bearded priest in order to capture Geraldo, but, again divested of the beard, Jim is able to consider whether completing the vengeance quest and allowing their life to be consumed with a family that is dead and gone is something they want, or if they might be happier committing themself to a different path, and finding a family that will give them the love and support their own no longer can. And then, of course, the way Jim paints on a simulacrum beard when they are forced into a life of violence as part of Kraken!Ed’s crew.

We have Heartbroken Voyeur Stede’s comment about how Calico Jack had nice hair, but “his moustache is weird.” Shortly after, we learn that CJ has been a duplicitous, manipulative asshole the entire time, his only goal to lure Ed away from the Revenge before the British came to kill Stede.

So what does it say that Stede is dreaming about himself with a full beard? To have Dream!Ed specifically comment on it? Because they’re calling attention to it, so, hey, hi, how are you? You have my attention!

I think it’s not JUST that Stede is casting himself in the role of the dashing hero with all the trappings thereof, indulging in a fantasy about a joyous, romantic reunion with his beloved. Because this fantasy has some MUCH darker connotations than the sun-drenched beach would suggest. This Dashing Hero™ persona isn’t Stede’s idealized self. It’s the culmination of all his insecurities about not being the kind of person who is worthy of the attention and love of someone as impossibly cool as Blackbeard.

(Incidentally, I think it significant that Ed, in the dream, ALSO has his full beard. This more than anything is what clues me into the fact that Stede is still trying to measure up to the Legendary Pirate Blackbeard - not Just Ed with his soft, beautiful clean-shaven face, nor even a more realistic version with a beard that’s coming in quite nicely, but isn’t anywhere near the epic proportions that it once was, as we see with the scenes of real Kraken!Ed)

We learn later in the episode that Stede has been dragging his feet about setting out to reunite with Ed in spite of the all the money he and the crew have managed to scrape together working for Jackie, and the true reason behind his reticence is that he is still genuinely convinced that Ed is better off and happier without him. Even when reunited with Lucius in episode 2 and Lucius suggests that Ed’s time with Stede was “as good as it’s going to get for [Ed]”, Stede’s response is that he’s “not ready to believe that.” Stede really just is incapable of conceptualizing a reality in which Just Stede could ever be enough.

(And don’t get me started on Lucius’ beard! Lucius who was the emotional intelligence of the crew in the first season, and is now a guarded, brittle, traumatized shell of who he was. He’s 100% for sure not hiding behind a façade of butched-up toughness. Nope. Not. At. All.)

So in Stede's dreams, he’s the epitome of the kind of guy that WOULD be good enough. The kind of guy who has a beard and wears leather pants (hello queer urge to become the person that you sexually desire, how are you?). The kind of guy with neat, tidy, barely even wavy hair instead of perfectly coifed cherub curls. The kind of guy who, if he wears a fine fabric at all, it’s wrapped around his waist where it can be mostly concealed by a thick, macho belt, and trailing in front of his crotch like a fabric phallus (and, say, if Ed feels like touching it, maybe there’s something else in the vicinity that he might also be interested in touching?). The kind of guy who is tough and competent and can kill without remorse or pity.

[smallest-fish-inthesea]

I’ve seen a lot of people complain about tmagp and say it doesn’t have the magic or draws them in like TMA did and I think it’s for multiple reasons

1: some of the cases are written by guest writers so ofc it’s not gonna be the same as Jonny and Alex’s writing

2: they’re not bullshitting their way through it anymore you can’t unlearn how to write/soundscape a podcast and part of the reason the quality is so good these days is BECAUSE of us, the fandom, funding them. They’re not recording under a pile of duvets anymore and it shows [i understand the appeal of the rawness of the earlier seasons of TMA where everything isn’t quite as polished but also like. Why are some of you mad about this???{

3: and potentially most importantly this is a universe we already know

I’ve heard Jonny go on multiple times about how the thing with TMA is that it becomes less scary the more it goes on because you discover more and more, you can’t be scared of the unknown if you already know what is hiding in the dark, it loses a certain sense of power.

And tmagp is (to an extent) a universe we have already discovered, we already know it, we know about the fears and the entities and avatars, ofc things don’t seem to work exactly the same but that doesn’t take away the fact that if you’ve listened to TMA you already have a WEALTH of knowledge about how things tend to function so of course it’s going to seem less horrifying and less intense because that’s just how things work here

I just think it’s a shame and a lot of people aren’t necessarily giving tmagp a fair chance over something that is literally impossible to change. Like said before, you can’t simply unknow things and that’s part of what makes the Magnus universes so interesting

Anyway. This isn’t like a call out post for anyone specific I’ve just seen a lot of it on my dash and it’s been frustrating me a lil