#but I even have an explanation for why it might be an

[amphibianauthor]

This! I was also very very lucky to have similar parenting circumstances. I was raised with parents who treated me as a mini-adult that could be explained choices. I will say one of the requirements for this type of parenting style is to understand that your child might be smarter than you in some areas or ask questions you feel like you should know and you don't. And you should be okay telling your child that you don't know something. That your own ego will be okay if you feel stupid.

Let me explain.

As a child, it was an established rule in my house that no questions are bad questions and my parents would ALWAYS answer questions as accurately (but age appropriate) as possible.* Questions were encouraged. If my parents couldn't answer a question right away they'd say something like "I'll answer once we finish x."

Questions were never a thing to be demonized in my house. Whenever I had questions/feelings, I always felt like I could go to my parents for advice or feedback without judgement. No matter the feelings we were allowed to question everything--from the rules they made, the reasoning behind said rules, why my parents were feeling a certain way, why grandparents might act specific ways, why I was being treated a certain way, I could question it and get an honest, truthful answer back. No passive aggressiveness ever either, No question was ever stupid in their eyes, genuinely. (There are too many teachers who say that exact quote and then give kids judgmental looks for asking things or being like 'well if you were paying attention to xyz')

Now, eventually your kid will ask you questions that might get under your skin or make you feel inferior because you feel like you don't know the answers. The trick is to be excited for them. That they are questioning the world and knowing things that interest them. (We don't get mad at a scientist for being smart in their expertise, those scientists were kids once!)

Like the other responses in this thread, by encouraging questions, I never felt like I was being interrogated when I made a bad choice (I personally didn't make many) because I could explain the reasoning behind it and talk about the reasoning why I chose that action, and what natural consequences might be waiting for me.

Another technique my parents employed was the voluntary 5 minute timeout. Anyone in my family at any moment when they felt upset or angry could announce that they needed a 5 minute break and then go get space to cool down.** (Yes even my parents did this at times, taking a 5 minute break) It was a respected thing, if you asked for space you got it. Sometimes the person would rejoin before the 5 minutes were up having cooled down, but after the 5 minutes people were allowed to check up on you and talk things through if things were wrong.

I can't tell you how useful it is to have an instant timeout button. It allows both parties the ability to recenter back to logic/reasoning if emotions run too high, and feel like you are never backed into a corner emotionally. You always have an out. You are praised/respected for understanding that your emotions might run high. Even with my anxiety I am not scared to ask for a break if I need it because it was modeled for me as a child.

Another one of my parents tricks: Using "I feel" statements. My mom pushed this especially, but the difference between 'you never do x!' (accusing, assuming things about the other person) and 'I feel like you never do x!' (communicating while showing your POV, gives the other person a chance to respond, overall less harsh) is a game changer. It focuses on empathizing with the person (letting them know your feelings and hopefully getting them to understand how you are seeing the world.)

*yes, all questions. I once asked my mom if 5 y/o me would have asked where baby's came from what she would tell me and she said she would literally did the 👉 👌 gesture with explanation of which sex had what body parts. I apparently never asked at that young though

**When I was really young, my parents would do the timeout thing as a 'hey, we see the rollercoaster of emotions is high, why don't you take a 5 minute break for space' and they would keep me in the same room but give me more space/or separate room with many checkups on me.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[mariasont]

valentines day with hotch & bimbo reader!!!?

Cuddle Retention Program - A.H

summary: it’s valentine’s day and all bimbo!assistant!reader wants is for hotch to stay in bed a litttttleeee longer pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: just fluffity fluff, v day fic, established relationship, bimbo!assistant being clingy, morning cuddles & kisses wc: 1.1k

Aaron smelled good in the mornings. Stupidly good. The kind of good that turned your brain into sugar-spun fluff, like slipping into freshly dried sheets or a golden kiss on frostbitten skin. Maybe it was his soap. Maybe it was his skin. Science might have some sort of explanation (Spencer would have pages of them), something about pheromones and chemistry and attraction.

Or maybe it was just him, just the way he existed in the world, the way loving him had rewired your brain to decide that he was your favorite scent, your favorite feeling, your favorite everything. Either way, you were obsessed with it, shameless in the way you pressed yourself closer, nuzzling into his chest like you could evaporate him into your skin, breathing him in as if you could store the feeling somewhere deep inside you.

And really, who could blame you? You were half awake (mind still sleep-soft) and it was Valentine's Day, which meant self-restraint was officially cancelled.

Your only job today was to love Aaron Hotchner with every fiber of your being, to the fullest capacity, and you planned to be relentless about it. You'd smother him in it, drown him in every ridiculous ounce of affection you could muster. You had a pile of silly, heartfelt gifts, things chosen with obscene amounts of thought, things that would earn you that signature Hotchner sigh, half exasperated with how much you had spent, half-somewhere-deep-down-amused. 

And if the universe were feeling generous, if the stars were truly aligned, you'd get the look. That tiny, secret almost-smirk, the one he thought you never noticed, the one that melted you down to nothing but pink, love-struck goo.

You sigh, wriggling a little just to get that much closer. Legs tangled, noses nearly brushing, lips tickling his throat as you exhale, voice sleep-rough and overtly greedy.

"Not letting you go," you murmur with full intent, pressing a semi-conscious kiss to his skin. "Ever, ever, ever."

Aaron exhales slowly, the sound rumbling low in his chest and transferring to yours. His hold on you hardens, not much, but just enough that your stomach does that stupid little flip, the one it always does when he pulls you closer without thinking. When he was somewhere between a dream and waking, but instinctively still reaching for you.

He doesn’t even open his eyes, just tucks his face into your hair and sighs, "Wasn't planning on going anywhere."

Your lips curve into a love-drunk smile as you steal another breath of him. "Better not."

Aaron groans, rolling just enough to squint at the clock before flopping back onto the pillow. His arm stays draped over you, pulling you closer like he's trying to trap you back in sleep with him. 

"Sweet girl," he sighs, "why must you insist on waking up at an ungodly hour?"

"Because I missed you while you were sleeping."

He exhales a quiet laugh, his hands roaming up your back in sleepy strokes. "I was right here."

"Not consciously," you countered, nudging your nose against his throat before pressing an exaggerated bite to his jaw. "You weren't actively showering me in love and affection, and I found that extremely rude."

Aaron huffs out a laugh, barely cracking one eye open as his lips quirk. "That so? Didn't realize I was neglecting my duties"

"Mhm," you sigh, tracing a finger over the firm plane of his chest. "Fortunately for you, I'm very forgiving. You can make it up to me by loving me right now."

"I always love you. Even in my sleep. Some of us don't need to be conscious to be devoted."

His fingers continue to skim idly under your pajama shirt, like touching you wasn't even a decision, just something ingrained, something automatic. A habit. A necessity. (Which it is now, but still, the thought stuns you every time.) Then, as if to personally disintegrate you, he presses a kiss to your forehead, careless in the way only deeply familiar love can be.

Your heart squeezes, affection swelling inside you, spreading like sunlight from the inside out. You want to savor in it, to bask in it, but then you feel the slow stretch of his legs, the unconscious twitch of his fingers, the tense of his body like he was preparing to push himself upright. Because Aaron does not know how to just relax in bed. Once he’s awake, he has to be moving, and that was not okay with you.

You don't mean to whine, it just slips out, an undeniably needy sound that always makes him pause. And predictably, he does. His body hesitates, giving you the perfect opening to wrap yourself around him, draping yourself across his lap. One leg hooks over his thigh, your arms lock around his torso. 

"Sweetheart, I need to—,"

"No," you plead, lower lip jutting out as you tilt up, blinking up at him so sweetly. "Don't leave me. It's warm. You're warm. Just five more minutes?"

Your eyes flicker up just in time to catch the exact moment he scrubs a tired hand down an equally tired face, and your heart trips, stumbles, falls face-first like it has no sense of self-preservation.

Because you love that. Borderline worship it. The way his fingers drag along his jaw, the brief scratch of his knuckles, the way his palm catches on the small stubble that always grows in overnight. You used to watch him do this at work, back when he was still just your boss.

You'd time it, find the right moment to drop off files or refill his coffee just for the purpose of being closer. Just so you could steal a few extra seconds of him, to soak in all the details you weren't supposed to love yet.

Now, you don't have to steal anything. He's yours, and he's not getting out of bed.

He laughs, letting himself sink deeper into the pillows. "You do realize I'm not supposed to negotiate with terrorists, right?"

"That's okay," you sigh, wiggling until you're sprawled completely on top of him, face pressed against his chest. "I don't negotiate either. I take prisoners."

Aaron exhales, shaking his head, but he’s already wrapping an arm around you, tucking you closer like he has no intention of actually getting up. "Of course."

You let out an exaggerated, dreamy sigh. "Ah, yes. A man who knows when to admit defeat. A rare breed. An endangered species."

"Is that so?"

"Mmmhmm. And do you know what happens to rare, precious things, Aaron?"

His fingers twitched. "Dare I ask?"

"They get worshiped." 

You laugh, breathless and helpless, giddy with the sheer force of how much you adore him. And then you're everywhere, littering his face with kisses, pressing your lips to his cheek, his jaw, his absurdly perfect nose, like you can't stand to leave a single inch untouched.

Between kisses, the words spill out, certain, bubbling up in the space of each press of your lips.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

Like the words belong to him. Like you belong to him. Like you could spend forever saying them and it still wouldn’t scratch the surface of how much.

Aaron sighs, as if he's been personally victimized by your love and affection, but then his fingers press into your ribs, and suddenly you are the victim.

"Aaron!" you shriek, laughter bursting from your chest as you try, and fail, to wriggle away. "You're—ah!—so unfair!"

Before you even register his movement, he flips you onto your back, pinning you down with a ridiculous, infuriatingly smug amount of control.

He smirks, his fingers trailing lazily over your temple as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Oh, I thought we were showing love and affection?"

Your hands fist into his shirt, tugging slightly, refusing to let him tease you with the closeness he’s clearly drawing out on purpose. His lips hover above yours, his breath fanning over your skin.

"Happy Valentine's Day sweetheart," he whispers, before his lips find yours.

"My beautiful," another kiss. "Happy," another, slower this time. "Perfect girl." His lips linger just a second longer. "My girl. My love. Always."

And then he kisses you again, fully, completely, endlessly like he wanted to live in you, in your pulse, in the gaps between every heartbeat, like he wanted to leave traces of himself in every breath you took, every sigh, every second between now and forever.

Yeah. That’ll do it.

You blink up at him, lips still tingling, brain definitely not working. "Oh my god. You should kiss me like that every morning. And every night. And also right now. Just to be safe."

"You'd really let me get away with that?"

His voice is quiet but so sure of you, because he already knows the answer. And then he kisses you again, like he's claiming the privilege anyway.

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[softtdaisy]

the right one - Charles Leclerc

summary. charles never forgot himself for letting you go. when arthur lose you, he is the one who has the heal your broken heart this time.

words count. 4,313

what to expect. it's the second part of the other one. I guess you can read it separately but some things might not make sense (specially the glue part). inspired by congratulations from Hamilton. mention of cheating, everyone is so sad in this story I'm sorry (im not) and arthur is terrible boyfriend

a/n. can you believe i told @monzabee about this fic in December 2023??? and it's finally out after all this time. I'm so happy I finally did it and gave these two another part, they deserve love and happiness.

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

When he first heard them, Charles didn’t want to believe the rumors.

For the winter break, he decided to go on a road trip in Italy with his best friends. For multiple reasons, he chose to get rid of any type of social media. Charles needed a real break after the season that had been more difficult than he thought it would. 

Also because a part of him still hasn’t gotten over you.

It was too difficult to see Arthur post pictures and stories with you all the time. And if he couldn’t escape it, nor you in the paddock during the season, Charles decided to leave all his bad feelings behind for a few weeks.

No matter how hard he tried these past months, Charles couldn’t get rid of his love for you. If he ignored you during the end of last season, even if he had your glue everywhere with him, he wanted to be nicer this year. 

Not like he had a choice if he wanted to keep a good relationship with Arthur, who still had no idea about what happened between you and Charles. He also wasn’t completely stupid: he knew it could look bad on him if he kept ignoring the photographer around the paddock. 

And it would be a lie to say that he didn’t miss you. Sure, a part of him was still aching when he was making you laugh and smile, thinking he couldn’t have the privilege to see that every day for the rest of his life because you chose Arthur over him. But he tried to be more mature and accept that if this was the best he could have, then he would appreciate it.

This was also one of the reasons why he couldn’t believe the rumors when he heard them. There was no universe in which someone would purposely hurt you.

The first time he heard about the rumors, it was because some friends from Monaco sent him a text. “What’s going on with Arthur? Is it true?” Charles was more than confused. What could be true about his brother? He didn’t want to sound stupid to ask them but still didn’t want to put his social media back on his phone.

So he turned to Joris. Because that man knew everything that there is to know. And because he knew that his friend would never lie to him. This explained the embarrassed expression on his face when Charles asked him if he knew anything about something Arthur might have done.

“You sure you want to know?” he asked him. Charles understood that something serious was going on. Even when the truth was ugly, Joris never asked him if he really wanted him to be honest. Not when Ferrari was not doing great, not when fans criticized him, not when everyone had something to say about his private life. But he didn’t hesitate a single second and agreed to hear the truth.

“Apparently…your brother cheated on his girlfriend.” Charles’ world went silent for a few seconds. That couldn’t be true. He couldn't believe it. People must be wrong and bored and choose to create drama because of the off-season. Right? 

“Actually…” Joris continued. “It’s not really a rumor since Arthur basically admitted it.”

It was a damper. 

Charles left for a few weeks, and his brother decided to ruin everything he gave up his own happiness for?

“Is it true?” He sent Arthur. No explanation.

“Yes.” He only answered.

It took Charles only a few hours to come back to Monaco. On the plane back, he opened his social media again, answered some comments and messages, and shared some Ferrari stuff. And looked at the mess Arthur created.

“Let’s review…” Charles started. As soon as he arrived, he asked Arthur and Lorenzo to come with him in the living room to discuss. They all stayed at the family house to deal with the major crisis. From what he learned, paparazzis were going around Monaco to catch any of you: Lorenzo, Arthur, and especially you. The victim of all this mess. 

Charles still hasn't seen you, though. Lorenzo’s girlfriend took you for a ride away from there, knowing Charles was coming back and that there would be a confrontation between the brothers. You didn’t need to hear about all that again. You knew the story. Well, you knew some parts of it. You refused to hear Arthur’s explanation. 

Charles knew it was for the better, but he still couldn’t wait to see you. Scared of how you would be. Scared of how he will react too.

He finally took a big breath before continuing. “This girl pretended to be pregnant with your child. And instead of just saying that you didn’t have sex with her, you said she wasn’t the one you slept with?” He chose his words wisely, taking the time to say everything correctly. Even if there were no good ways to talk about this situation.

“I panicked! What should I have done?”

“Don't say anything!” he screamed back, slamming his hands on the table. “You should have just shut your mouth and not said a fucking thing.”

“Charles…” Lorenzo warned him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

He sighed and apologized, trying to calm down. His brother was right; there was no use being aggressive against Arthur. The harm has been done and couldn’t be undone. But when he gave his baby brother a look, he couldn’t handle it. Arthur looked like he didn’t understand why Charles was so angry. Like he couldn’t see the real harm in this. “Or better, you shouldn’t have cheated,” he added. 

Everything stopped around the three brothers. “Charles!” Lorenzo repeated, louder this time and with a more authoritarian tone. Like there was back in childhood when he had to play the big brother between the two younger brothers fighting for the same car. 

Except this time, it was for the same girl.

Charles knew he had to calm down and play it more cleverly. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, trying to think of a way to say things more nicely without making Arthur turn on him. He didn’t even know how he could do that: he was so mad at his brother for doing such a stupid thing.

“Aren’t you supposed to support me?” Arthur asked with a disdainful voice that made Charles look up immediately. He couldn’t even find the right way to answer this. Maybe Arthur could feel the disappointment, which is why he looked that angry. He was never the Leclerc who disappointed the family.

Lorenzo had a lot of pressure as the big brother, the one that had to be a model and perfect at any point. Charles had the celebrity pressure; being the most famous Leclerc, he had to behave perfectly. But Arthur? Everybody saw him as the baby, never accepting any bad decisions from him. Or even when he did, he was forgiven immediately.

He was not used to having people being mad at him. You were, which was already a problem. But Charles was too, and that he couldn’t handle. This explained why Arthur went upstairs silently. Well, as silently as he was, hitting the staircase loudly. 

Charles let out a loud sigh when Arthur disappeared. “You two need to talk.” Lorenzo told him, to which he agreed without the desire to deal with that right now. Instead, he started talking with his more reasonable brother about their holidays. He knew Arthur needed some minutes to calm down.

He needed them too.

He only decided to go upstairs when he saw the car parking in front of the house. You were back. 

And he couldn’t face you right now.

— 

“Thank you for coming.” Charles stopped what he was doing after that sentence. He had finally gone to see Arthur after you came back home. He waited just a minute to hear your voice, even if he couldn’t see you. He had no idea if he should accept some good or bad feeling from hearing you. He was torn between the fire that lit up again in his heart from your simple words and the hurt of knowing he was only there because of his and Arthur's bad decisions.

After he entered his brother’s room, the one he assumed you shared with him, they both stayed silent for a moment. Charles was dealing with his social media when Arthur finally decided to speak. 

And Charles was more confused than he should be. What did this mean? He turned around to look at Arthur. He was still standing next to the window, watching you outside talking with Lorenzo’s girlfriend. There was something on Arthur’s face that Charles didn’t like. Almost like he couldn’t understand why you came back. Why were you still around? Like he was waiting for you to go away after what happened. 

“I don’t know how to deal with that. I needed you here.” 

This time, it was Charles that couldn’t truly understand what was going on. Actually, no, he can. He loved his baby brother with his whole heart and would have done anything for him. To protect him. To save him from whatever situation he put himself into. But now, looking at him with the whole situation going around, Charles realized something. 

Arthur knew. He knew that Charles would have always come to his rescue. Sacrifice things for him. Do anything for his brother’s happiness before his. And that’s what he was expecting from today too.

“No.” Charles first said, mostly for himself. But it made Arthur turn around too, curious. For the rest, it came out more confidently. Like a part of him had been waiting for ages to finally say these words. “I’m not here for you.” 

He heard Arthur’s nervous laugh, and he took a step back. He wasn’t even scared of his brother; it would have been stupid for many reasons. No, he was more scared of his own mind right now. He still couldn’t believe he said it. Out loud. What he was thinking from the start.

You became his priority. 

You had been for so long. 

But Arthur didn’t let him go away with him and took this step forward and some others. “What do you mean?”

“You fucked up, Arthur.” Charles started, pointing at the window. Pointing at you. “You cheated on your girlfriend. She was willing to give up everything for you; she already did in the past. And you thank her like that? By sleeping with some other girl you don’t even know? Do you seriously think that’s what she deserves?” 

Arthur looked at him blankly. With just a smirk. Not a fun or laughing one. No, a mean one. One that Charles had never seen on his brother. It was almost like he was discovering a new face for his baby brother. And the worst was yet to come.

“You still love her.” Arthur said with an emotionless voice. And it was a real hit in the heart for Charles. He never thought that Arthur knew about his feelings. Sure, he had never been more discreet when it came to his heart. And the way he went from praising you to ignoring you during the weekend said a lot. Maybe the worst part wasn’t much that Arthur knew about his feelings. It was that he knew and let Charles sacrifice himself for him. “I should have expected it. She’s hard to forget, I guess.”

“You’re going to learn now.” Arthur laughed at this answer because it was the truth. He played, and he lost. Just like Charles did last year, technically. If Charles gave up, Arthur lost at his own game. The game over wasn’t the same, except for the fact the lost prize was the same: you. You and your heart. You and your beautiful smile were maybe gone for longer than it should have been.

Charles couldn’t handle it anymore. The more he stayed in this room, the more he was getting hate for his brother, and it was definitely not the family dynamic he wanted. So he walked to the door, ready to leave. Or to finally do what he wanted from the beginning. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Charles turned around one last time to look at his brother. But Arthur wasn’t looking at him. He took his place back, near the window. Watching you. From there, it looked like he was trapped in some kind of prison. One he was to blame for being in. But maybe the real story behind this was that he was the watchman and you were the prisoner. At least for now.

“Why did you let me date her?” 

“Sometimes you love someone so much you accept to put their happiness before yours.” Arthur gave him one single look. One that said everything that needed to be known. He wasn’t the one Charles gave up his happiness for. He did it thinking it was the right decision for you.

— 

When Charles went outside, you were still there. Alone this time. You sat on the swing seat, your eyes locked on your own shoes, not giving any interest to the environment around you. Charles’ heart broke a little at this sight. The sun wasn’t supposed to stop shining on the people around it. You weren’t supposed to stop being this joyful person. 

Even if he tried to walk slowly and not scare you, you jumped when Charles sat next to you. “Sorry,” he immediately mumbled. You offered him a small smile while he was trying to find a good seat. Ironically, he was making it move even more and making it harder to sit.

You were the one holding on to the structure to slow the movements. “I’m not great at this.” He laughed nervously. Charles didn’t know how to act around you. It wasn’t easy most of the time. But now it was even harder. They never teach you how to act around the woman you loved and let go, but even less when this same woman got her heart broken by your brother. 

“Thank God you’re better behind the wheel,” you replied, now looking straight in front of you. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You felt guilty. Sure, this whole situation wasn’t your fault; nothing could ever make you think that. But you hated that Charles had to comfort you now. After what happened between you last year, it didn’t feel right. Or fair. 

Charles shrugged, purposely hitting on your shoulder while doing it. “Well, you’re not seeing him when I sit in the car.” You turned your face to him and couldn’t contain a laugh when you saw his proud expression. In the dark, his smile was the small light you needed to not break down. It made you feel like there was still hope out there.

So when Charles stopped smiling, naturally a tear fell from your eye. “I’m so stupid,” you sighed, playing with your fingers. Immediately, he grabbed one of your hands and started playing with them too. You remember how it was something you did to him back then, when there was still something building around you. When he walked out of the car, he wasn’t very proud of what he did.

You both had the same habit of playing with your hands to avoid eye contact and focusing on something else. 

You also both had the same habit of grabbing each other’s hand to help ease the anxiety. 

“I never thought Ar…he would break my heart like that,” you confessed in a quiet and broken voice. A voice that was like a knife right in Charles’ heart. “You said it yourself, he has a pure heart. So why did he change? What did I do wrong?” 

You started crying again. And Charles was fighting to not break down too. He hated seeing you like this. He hated that he was the one pushing you into Arthur’s arms. If Charles didn’t cause the pain, he was the triggering factor. If only he had been more selfish and kept you for himself, this wouldn’t have happened.

He got up, making the structure move again, but this time you didn’t have the strength to hold it. But the swinging didn’t last long. Charles immediately kneeled in front of you, grabbing your legs to stop you from swaying. And once you were stable, one of his hands moved to your face softly. You didn’t hesitate a single second before cuddling against it, even if it meant your tears would now fall on his fingers. If you didn’t want to share your pain with him, that was all Charles was asking. To take it with him so you would feel less hurt.

“You have nothing to do with Arthur’s mistakes, ok? I hate to say that, but I was wrong. I really thought he would treat you better than…” He stopped for a second, closing his eyes to consider what he wanted to say. But he was tired of holding back his words. “Better than I would. I never imagined he would do that; otherwise, I would have never pushed you in his arms. You deserve better, ok?” 

You were absorbing every single word he was saying. Trying to remember every millisecond of his monologue so you could recite it before going to sleep that night and all the following ones when you would remember giving your heart to the wrong brother. 

“You deserve the world.” Charles pursued. You watched as he put a hand in his jacket pocket to get something. “And I hope one day you’ll find the strength to open that glue too and accept the help from someone to heal your broken heart.” 

He handed you the glue. The very same glue you gave him for his birthday. You weren’t quite sure Charles had healed his heart; he wasn’t sure himself. 

The fact he kept it this whole time—more than that, that he had it with him tonight—was the forward thrust you needed.

You thanked him silently, with a smile that he understood immediately. Charles stayed like that for another minute, brushing away the tears that were still falling and caressing your knee in the softest way you’ve ever felt.

Then he sat back on the swing seat, with more precaution this time. For the next ten minutes, he tried to change your mind by speaking of the last season and what was coming. You didn’t speak much, except for some reactions here and there. The conversation wasn’t the real distraction in the end.

It was seeing Charles so full of life, something you’ve waited to see since you’ve met him. Deep down, you took it as proof that a better future was coming.

“Let’s go inside.” Charles offered after noticing the shivers in your body grow bigger. “I can escort you to your room.” He knew that you were staying in the guest room. It wasn’t hard to guess anyway, as all the brothers took their own room, and there was no way you would be sleeping with Arthur that night. 

A part of him wished he could comfort you to sleep anyway. 

Especially after you grabbed his hand to follow him inside. So lightly that he could let it go easily if he didn’t pay attention. But enough for him to feel the contact of your skin together and feel the heat growing in him. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered to him, closing the door. Charles hated how he only noticed now how your makeup had actually been ruined through the day.

___

Charles was taking his shirt off when he heard slight bangs on his door. He was clearly not expecting anybody, especially not now and not in his family house. 

His mom was already asleep; Lorenzo was never the type to come when the doors were closed; Arthur still hadn’t come back from what he knew. So it didn’t leave many possibilities.

As he could expect, you were the one behind the door when he opened it. Charles found it sad that you were still wearing the same pajamas you probably brought for your holiday: an old shirt that he recognized from Arthur’s wardrobe and a short that was showing too much leg for his own good. 

But what made him even sadder was the expression on your face. If he thought you looked sad earlier, it was nothing compared to now.

“Do you mind if…” You didn’t even finish your sentence before your voice broke down. Charles moved aside to let you come in, giving a look in the corridor to make sure you were alone. Even if he didn’t have to explain himself if anybody saw you. 

He would never let you be alone in the situation. Nor ever, now that he thought about it.

What he didn’t expect was that the moment he closed the door, you would fall in his arms. You didn’t show much attention to him except for accepting the one he gave you earlier. But you were the one who initiated it. Compared to now.

“I'm so tired of this, Charles,” you mumbled against his naked chest. The first thing that came to your mind was how you never felt more safe and comfortable than right now, in his arms. Not even Arthur could make for his big brother natural reassurance. 

It was something that has always been true about Charles. People, friends, members of the team, family, and anyone who needed to feel comfort knew they could go to Charles for this. If he felt like he wasn’t always finding the right words, it seemed to work enough for people to feel better when they left.

Maybe that was always true about him too. People never seemed to stay.

“He’s not planning on coming back, and he left alone here, in your family house? What am I even supposed to do here by myself?” You started again, sounding angrier now. “I can’t fucking sleep in his bed because it makes me sick. Sleeping in the guest bed makes me feel bad because I don’t belong here. I feel bad because he’s not here. But he’s the one who fucked up. Why do I feel bad? Why do I feel guilty? Charles, I…”

Every word you said was like a knife in the heart for him. Hurting more than the punches you were hitting on his chest.

With each hour passing from this morning, Charles felt worse about the decision he took months ago. He should have never let you go. He would have never treated you this way. 

When you broke down, Charles held you harder against his chest. He was humming, trying to calm you down. His head was above yours, and at some point, he naturally started kissing your hair. He was trying to create a peaceful bubble where you would feel at ease. Less sad.

“You can sleep here,” Charles offered in a whisper. “I don’t mind.” 

It wasn’t until you were lying in his bed that you asked the question. Charles’ idea was to let you sleep in his bed and for him to sleep in the guest room. At least you didn’t risk Arthur coming at night, and he could deal with his brother. It never occurred to you that you would ask for the situation to be different.

But you grabbed his hand after he moved the sheet up your chest. “Would you…can you stay with me? Please?” 

Charles looked at you with confusion but also hope. A hope that lowered over the months but that never died. He replied with a simple nod and sweet smile. A reassuring one. In a home where you probably felt unwelcome, even if it wasn’t entirely true, Charles wanted you to know you were at the right place right now.

So he didn’t waste another minute and went to lie next to you. The boundaries were pretty obvious with each of you sleeping at the end of the bed and with a gap between your bodies. While you were facing the wall, he was on his back, trying to organize the mess that had been that day. 

Right when he closed his eyes to try to sleep, he felt the mattress moving. He couldn’t resist giving you a look. You were now facing him with your eyes open. “Charles?” you whispered. 

He was obviously awake, yet you were scared of disturbing him. But he gave you that smile. The one he only had the secret. The one that opened the door to his life, his head, his heart. 

“Will it be ok?” 

You knew he would understand what you meant.

When you met Charles, he was so heartbroken that he chose to put all the good things in his life aside because he felt like he didn’t deserve to be happy anymore. And even if his anxiety was still a battle he had to fight every day, it got better. A few months ago, he probably would have ignored you because he would have thought it wasn’t his place to comfort you. To be the good person in your life.

But there he was, sharing a bed with you. Thinking that maybe tomorrow could be better. And that two days later could be even better.

He knew.

That was why he took your hand, the one resting on your pillow next to your face. He held it until you chose to intertwine your fingers together. A contact you both needed. To heal the past and the future.

Charles moved to lie on his side, facing you. And with his thumb brushing your skin, he gave you the only thing you needed to hear that night.

The only thing he also needed to say. 

“It will. I promise."

[broresteia]

I feel like I'm missing some vital lore: why is Gretzky's portrait an IOU sticky note? :D

(Also, any easter eggs in the let's play scene that no one's mentioned but you really want to share? You must have had sooo many hours to think about all the details)

woah get ready for a looooong answer (sorry)

to answer your first question: i initially wanted to make this a “where’s wayne (gretzky)?” piece, so i put in his portrait…but then i didnt want people to go into the piece only looking for him! so i didnt remove that detail, but also didn’t end up naming the piece that…

as for other easter eggs that are my favorite (some have been mentioned; some haven’t)…here they are—in no particular order—plus a lil explanation!

1) i put a box of zyns near trevor zegras

2) a box of scattered band-aids around matt rempe cause he’s always getting into scraps! might need ‘em!

3) i refused to put pucks in the net that fleury is defending…even if crosby’s shooting on him haha

4) gave quinn hughes an apple once he broke the vancouver canucks record for most assists by a defenseman in franchise history

5) toffoli and celebrini competition (theyre tied)

6) a person on twitter reached out to me to add his dad (who played in the nhl for a long time!) and i was honored to be able to do so!!

7) the wild playing baseball (and jared spurgeon keeping score of the balls and strikes)

8) as a joke for my friends, i included the hat that the hughes brothers seem to always wear lmao

there are more but tumblr puts a limit on the amount of pics….but yeah! had a ton of fun adding the details!!!!

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Just Because

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: You spoil Dean with a simple gesture, and it means more than he can say.

Check out my Masterlist here!

The bunker was quiet when you got home, a striking difference from the chaos of the mall you had just battled through.

Between the crowds, the pushy salespeople, and that one cashier who acted like scanning your items was super inconvenient, you were exhausted.

All you wanted now was a long hot shower and to curl up in bed with your boyfriend when he got back.

You set the shopping bags on the bed before heading to the bathroom, sighing in relief as the warm water washed away the tension of the day.

You were halfway through your shower when the sound of heavy boots echoed off the tile, followed by a soft knock. A second later, the curtain pulled back just enough for Dean’s smirking face to peek through.

“Mmm, hey, sweetheart.” He grinned, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body.

You rolled your eyes, fighting the blush creeping up your cheeks. “Hey, baby. How was the hunt?”

He sat on the edge of the tub, running a hand through his hair. “Longer than expected but we got the job done. What about you? How was your day, did you go out?”

You hummed, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “Mmhmm. I did a little shopping. Got you something—it’s in the bag on the bed.”

His eyebrows lifted in interest and surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Go check it out while I finish up.”

After finishing up, you pulled on your robe and made your way to the bedroom, expecting to find Dean grinning like a kid on Christmas.

Instead, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, staring at the plaid shirts laid out in front of him. The whiskey bottle sat unopened beside them. His hands rested on his knees, fingers curled like he didn’t quite know what to do with them.

Your smile faded. He didn’t look happy—he looked stunned. Maybe even… sad?

You frowned, quickly making your way to him and sitting beside him. Your hand covered his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”

He nodded quickly, but his voice wavered. “Y-Yeah. I just…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “This is for me?”

You narrowed your eyes, watching as his forced grin slowly faded. “Dean, what’s wrong? You don’t like them? That’s totally fine, I can return them—”

“What? No!” His head snapped up, eyes wide. “I love them. It’s not that.”

You tilted your head. “Then what is it? Because you look like someone just kicked your puppy.”

Dean sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling like he was carrying a weight he didn’t know how to put down. He turned to face you, his hands hesitantly reaching for yours, but his head stayed low, like he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

"I just... why did you buy me all this?" His voice was quieter than usual, rough around the edges, as he gestured toward the plaid and whiskey behind him.

You blinked, glancing at the items before looking back at him. "Well, your plaid got ruined, and I figured you could use some more… And I noticed you were running low on whiskey, so I thought a new bottle might be nice."

He let out a slow, shaky breath, his head dropping even lower. "No, I mean... why would you do this for me?"

Your heart clenched at the way he said it—so soft, so unsure, like he genuinely couldn’t comprehend the answer.

You reached out, fingertips brushing under his chin, gently tilting his face up to yours. "Because I love you."

Dean’s lips parted slightly, his green eyes searching yours like he was looking for some kind of explanation, something that made sense in his world. "But… I don’t get it. It’s not my birthday. It’s not our anniversary. You didn’t owe me this."

“Dean,” you said gently, lifting his chin so he had to look at you. “You don’t have to earn love. You don’t have to wait for a reason. I did this because I love you.”

He stayed quiet, jaw tensing, eyes fixed on the flannels like they were something rare and fragile.

"Dean," you murmured, squeezing his hands. "Talk to me. What’s going on?"

"I…" He swallowed hard, struggling to find the words. "No one’s ever done this for me. Not unless it was for a reason, or because I asked. No one’s ever just… wanted to."

Your heart clenched. There it was—the reason he was struggling, the reason he looked so lost. Dean Winchester, who gave and gave until there was nothing left of him, had never had someone do the same without expecting something in return. And now that someone had, he didn’t know how to accept it. He didn’t think he deserved it.

"But I do. I wanted to."

He smiles a little sadly, still processing the information.

“You take care of me, right?” you continued. “You buy me coffee, make sure I eat, kill the spiders I pretend I don’t see.” That got a small huff of laughter from him. “So let me take care of you too. No reason needed.”

His breath hitched slightly, and for a second, he just stared at you, like he was trying to memorize your face. Then, without a word, he pulled you into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the wind out of you.

"This means more to me than I can ever explain, Sweetheart," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

You hugged him just as tight, running your hand up and down his back. “Of course, babe. You deserve it.”

After a few moments, you pulled back with a playful smile and grabbed one of the shirts. “So, do you like them?”

His smile widened as he took them from your hands. "Are you kidding? I love them. Especially this black and white one—that looks badass."

"Then c’mon, fashion show time!"

Dean chuckled, rolling his eyes, but there was no hesitation as he shrugged off his jacket and pulled on the new plaid. When he turned back to you, leaning against the dresser, you couldn't help but stare.

"Whoa," you breathed, eyes trailing over him. “I knew it would look good, but that’s just unfair.”

Dean smirked, waggling his brows. “Oh, I know.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, now how about we get drunk and watch a movie?”

Dean pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Sounds perfect. But first—" He grabbed the other shirts and smirked. "I gotta show Sammy these. He’s gonna be so jealous."

Before you could say a word, he was already heading down the hall.

"Sammy!" he called, his voice echoing through the bunker. "Where are you? I gotta show you why you need to get a girlfriend!"

Laughter bubbled up in your chest as you flopped back onto the bed, shaking your head. That man.

Dean Winchester deserved love—the kind that didn't have to be earned, the kind that just was. And you were going to keep proving it to him, every single day.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (48)

***

The mine is too small to keep secrets for long. Even using Piltover labourers and engineers, someone still talks to someone, and the rumours start spreading.

"They're building ventilation shafts," Benzo says. He heard it from someone who heard it from someone else, who overheard the Piltie workers talking about it. It's not verifiable truth but when they look to Connol, he shrugs.

"I've been watching the steel they're using. It could be fan blades." Connol crosses his arms and leans back, thinking. "It's possible. It would take them a while."

Benzo looks around the mess hall. Nobody's paying attention to their little table, everyone's eating and drinking and enjoying what's left of their night. Still, he keeps his voice low. "I've heard they're building machinery to dig down to level four. That fancy uniform, the white and blue vests and the red shirts? They're from the Science Academy. They're here to build the machines. Some kind of final assignment."

"Great," Felicia says. "How many miners are they going to need once they've got machines to do the work?"

Vander was wondering the same thing. The work in the mines might be heavy and dangerous, but it's still better than starving on the street. Beside him, Silco is worryingly quiet. "What do you think?"

Silco frowns at him, like he had no intention of sharing his thoughts just yet. "We should watch for the rock they dig out."

"Why?"

"See if they can separate the coal from the bedrock," Silco says, and Vander pulls a face at him. Sometimes, Silco's explanations don't explain much at all. "The mine makes money by selling coal. They can't sell dirt mixed with coal dust. They won't make any money if those machines grind it all together, so our jobs might be safe."

There are some nights where Silco will join in with the chatter, even if half the time he does it with a patronising little smirk like he finds them amusing. There are other nights like tonight where he'll ignore them completely, head bent over his little notebook, pencil working across the page. Occasionally he'll look up and stare across the room, blue eyes unfocused as he thinks.

So Silco misses the way Connol stumbles over his words when he tells Felicia they have a surprise for her, the way Connol grabs for his glass and takes a gulp when she gives him a suspicious stare.

"A surprise for me?" Felicia turns to Vander, eyes narrowed. "Did you get more of that lip stain?"

Vander shakes his head. "Nope."

"Then what is it?" Felicia asks, turning back to Connol.

"It's a surprise," Connol says.

"But I want to know now." Felicia grins brightly, and Vander wonders how she doesn't see it. Connol's soft, answering smile; the way he always turns to her in conversation, looking for her reaction or approval.

Vander glances over at Silco, but Silco's got his head bent over his notebook, missing the whole thing.

"That's not how a surprise works," Benzo says.

Felicia laughs and picks up her glass. "So how long do I have to wait for this surprise?"

"Let me finish my drink," Vander grumbles.

Felicia hounds Connol for clues. He agrees to answer yes or no only, so there's a whole series of questions: is it bigger than my hand? Could I lift it up? Can I wear it? Can I eat it?

The questions get more ridiculous as they walk over to the market. Does it float? Would it make me the envy of Piltover? Would it make an enforcer angry? Connol fights to keep a straight face but he only answers yes or no, keeping her guessing until they step inside.

Once the door is closed behind them and they hang their lanterns by the door, burning bright, Connol leads them to the far wall. There's a piece of fabric hung over a pile in the corner – dark red and thick, that Silco wanted to eventually use for curtains – and Connol leads Felicia there.

Felicia steps forward and yanks the material away, her long plait bobbing with the force of her movement. Underneath, the old jukebox is polished and clean, the dark glass reflecting like a mirror.

"You always say you want music and I know it doesn't look like much, but here, you just have to wind it," Connol says, stepping to a handle on the side and cranking it over and over. "We'll fix this if we work out how to get power here, but Benzo and I figured out how to make it work."

The machine crackles to life, the inside lighting up in blues and pinks, the light reflecting on the metal arms inside.

Felicia's face lights up with a delighted smile. She steps forward and skims the list behind the glass, reaching towards the buttons. "Can I…?"

"Pick something."

Felicia presses a button and the machine whirs as it lifts a record and drops it on to the turntable. After a moment, a song starts to play, sweet and longing.

"Dance with me," Felicia says, grabbing Connol's hand and dragging him in front of the machine, its bright lights and joyous sounds. She curls her hands around his shoulders and he slides his hands around her waist. They sway together, not much of a dance, but it's sweet.

Vander wanders over to where Silco's sitting on the floor. He's under the lanterns, knees pulled up and notebook leaning against them. Vander slides down beside him, nudges his shoulder. "They're sweet, don't you think?"

Silco looks up at him, annoyed at the interruption. "What?"

Vander nods over at the couple slowly dancing together. "Felicia and Connol."

"Took them long enough," Silco mutters, but the expression on his face is soft. Maybe a little yearning.

"Do you want to dance?" Vander asks gently.

"I've never danced in my life."

"Can't be that hard. They're managing."

Silco shakes his head but he curls his fingers round Vander's hand. "Let them have this," he says, leaning his head on Vander's shoulder.

***

[aquinnix]

Febuwhump Day 13 - "I Don't Trust Anyone Else"

“Etho? Are you even listening to me?” Bdubs snapped his head around, ready to glare. However, Etho was looking at him with true interest in his eyes, and nodded at Bdubs’ question. Bdubs laughed under his breath. “It wouldn’t kill you to say something every once and a while, you know.” He meant it as a joke, but Etho’s eyes changed to hold something akin to fear. Still, he simply nodded. Bdubs put his hands on his hips. “Are you alright? You can tell me anything.” 

Etho curled in on himself a little bit as he nodded once again, this time more vigorously. And this time, Bdubs noticed, the motion was accompanied by a wince that Etho tried desperately to hide. Bdubs came to sit next to him. “Okay, that’s it, something’s wrong. Are you hurt? I can go grab some bandages…” He was cut off by Etho shaking his head adamantly. 

Bdubs gave him that glare he had been holding in. “Etho.” His voice was like that of a stern parent. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Etho made a small grunting noise and shook his head again, though this time it was a movement of resignation. Bdubs finally understood. “Did something happen to your mouth? Your jaw?” Etho simply made another groaning sound and pointed to his mask. He brought his knees to his chest, not fully meeting Bdubs’ eyes. 

And Bdubs knew why. He knew how touchy Etho was about the subject. He, or anyone he knew for that matter, had never once seen Etho without his mask on. But now as Bdubs’ attention was directed towards the piece of fabric, he noticed how it was slightly darker in places, taking on a reddish hue. “I can get the bandages and leave the room if you want or…” Bdubs’ voice wavered as he spoke, eventually falling victim to the tension as it trailed off. 

However, at that idea, Etho shook his head once again. Bdubs tried to hide his confusion. How bad was this mystery injury? Did Etho not think he could do it himself? What were they supposed to do about it if… 

A tap on his shoulder, bringing Bdubs out of his thoughts. Etho kept one hand on Bdubs’ shoulder, squeezing tightly, as the other began to, slowly, reach for his mask. Bdubs’ eyes went wide. “Are you sure?” Etho didn’t respond, only hooking a finger over the top of the fabric. It was slow going, whether due to the pain, or Etho’s reservations about the action, Bdubs wasn’t sure. Likely a combination of both. Bdubs forced himself to maintain a compassionate smile despite the gore being revealed. 

And gore it was, Etho’s lips were bloodied, his jaw hanging in a manner that made Bdubs think it might be dislocated, and a sizable piece of his cheek was entirely missing. It was impossible to keep a straight face, no matter how hard Bdubs tried, and he could see his shortcoming in Etho’s expression. “Here. Let me get a cloth and some water.” Bdubs stood, nearly running into the other room, not trusting his stomach to keep its contents for much longer. 

He prayed Etho couldn’t hear his vomiting. 

Bdubs tried to get a hold of himself. Etho had just put so much trust in him, and what was he doing with it? Emptying it out into a bucket. Bdubs returned to Etho with a different bucket full of water and a couple of cloths. 

“Try to stay still for me?” Bdubs winced at his own request, imagining how much pain Etho must be in. Carefully, Bdubs began to wipe away the blood, cleaning the wounds. As more of Etho’s face was revealed, Bdubs’ expression softened. Subconsciously, he had always imagined Etho’s face as something grotesque and disfigured, something worthy of being hidden. But, despite its current state, Bdubs saw nothing to hint at such an explanation, no scar tissue or strange appendages. Just a very human face, with a very dislocated jaw. 

Bdubs set down the cloth. “I’m gonna have to get that jaw back into place.” Etho’s eyes widened for a moment before he nodded slowly. Bdubs wiped the crimson that had bled in the time it took him to say that sentence. Then, he put one hand behind Etho’s head, and gently grabbed his jaw with the other. “On the count of three. One. Two.” The pair both braced themselves. “Three.” Bdubs pushed Etho’s jaw back into place, receiving the first true sound of pain from Etho. Bdubs put his hands up. “All done!” He grabbed the bandages, wrapping Etho’s jaw to keep it in place, and cheek. 

When he was finally done. He sat back, unease sinking back into him. “Etho?” He looked up. “Thank you for trusting me.” 

At those words, Etho gave as much of a smile as he could manage, which was next to nothing. Still, to Bdubs it was beautiful. 

And Bdubs was going to dangle this over everyone else’s head for all of eternity. With Etho’s permission of course. 

[constantfragmentation]

Agreed.

Do I believe Vander blames himself, that he wronged Silco? Yes, I do. But he really doesn't do much beyond extended a weak olive branch to a trusted friend that he just tried to kill. It wasn't a fight that got out of hand, he tried to kill him.

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm sure as hell not going to seek my attempted murderer out afterwards to 'reconcile'. Yeah, no. Silco isn't going to the their special place in the mines, the Drop or anywhere else in FEAR he may run into his attacker and die the next time.

Let's also not forget, the Felica reason is really stupid. He lost his head? The writing is so weak here. Silco and Vander's break seemed more profound than an accidental death of a mutual friend. People get hurt and die in revolts. They had to know there would be casualties or why bother with revolting against Enforcers, who are heavily armed?

Also, if we use a vague timeline between the Day of Ash, Silco recovering from extensive injuries mentally, emotionally and physically, to the point in Arcane S1E1, WHERE... Vander and Benzo make the comment of 'there are worse things than Enforcers out there" meaning Silco and immediately painting him as the big baddie in the first episode.

So, by the age of the kids supposedly on the Day of Ash and then in Ep1, Vander had YEARS to try and contact Silco. They lived in the Underground, know the same people. There's not exactly an infinite places to stay hidden. Vander and Benzo clearly know Silco is operating in the Undercity.

You can't tell me in all those YEARS, Vander couldn't have made the effort to actually contact Silco and clear shit up. He chose not to and continued painting his 'brother' as a bad guy. For someone who 'never forgave himself', he sure didn't make an effort to find his brother. His effort was the weakest ever.

Even his "I never forgave myself" is hollow. No, buddy, you should have been begging your brother's forgiveness for what you did to him. It's this pathetic attempt of Vander's is what I find insulting. We're supposed to go, "oh look he was sorry , if only Silco KNEW!". But it doesn't address the work needed to regain a person's trust and forgiveness.

Vander didn't put in the effort to deserve Silco's forgiveness. End of story.

The mutliverse episode just felt like a slap in the face in this respect. Silco's personality completely changes which makes ZERO sense. The young Silco and Timeline Silco in S2 don't make any sense compared the characterization of Silco in all of S1.

Young Silco HAD to have traits that build into what makes S1 Older Silco. The drowning isn't going to make those traits magically appear. It was always about the cause. Even if Vander apologized, his handling of the Underground and working with Enforcers is what pits Silco against him. THAT is the betrayal.

I don't think Vander's letter would have done much if we're going off S1 Silco explanation of the drowning and aftermath. Silco tried to see if he could get back the 'old Vander' but also knew it might not happen and had Plan B in the wings.

" I let a weak man die".

Silco decided that the cause was still the most important thing to him and learned not to trust anyone so willingly and blindly.

The Felicia angle is so weak. There is no build-up to this magical trio of friends. Silco doesn't seem to know her kids or vice versa. The kids seems to see Silco as an enemy most likely due to Vander and Benzo.

If Silco was a true friend, why doesn't he know the kids or vice versa? You'd think due to their age prior to the bridge, Silco would be a part of their lives and not just Vander?

S2 was such a disappointing mess. If they really wanted to explore these relationships, then they should have laid some of the groundwork in S1 but didn't. The fact it was dealt with in such a sloppy manner and expected fans to love it? That's what bugs me.

And the blatant character assassination of SO many characters in order to make their plot work.

All of S2 was poorly executed. Period.

y'all. y'all know the letter wasn't the apology right. it was the olive branch. "you know where to find me" was an invitation. he couldn't apologize in a letter. he wanted silco to meet him. yeah it was a shit apology. because it wasn't one. my word.

[qrrieterisunnq]

Long distance gestures - Nico Hischier

the swiss love charm au

NICO!HISCHIER X AINSLEY!HUGHES — WARNINGS: nothing just sweet pure content — SUMMARY: Nico arranges for a Vancouver bakery to deliver Valentine’s cake to Ainsley and Freya. Freya insists on calling Nico to thank him, and during the call, Ainsley feels the undeniable pull of his charm, even from thousands of miles away. — WORD COUNT: 2,7K PART OF THE SWISS LOVE CHARM AU

Ainsley isn’t a big fan of Valentine’s Day. It is just another day to her—one filled with pink-and-red displays at the grocery store and overpriced flowers. She has already decided to spend the evening watching cartoons with Freya and Quinn while ignoring the steady ping of romantic posts flooding her social media.

“Why is there even a holiday for this?” she mutters, balancing Freya on her hip as she shoves a stack of mail into the drawer by the door. “It’s all just an excuse to sell cheap chocolate and bad greeting cards.”

Quinn, whom is stretched out on their couch with a bag of chips resting on his chest, raises an eyebrow. “You’re just bitter because Freya’s the only one who’s ever gonna get you a Valentine.”

Freya’s head perks up at her uncle’s words. “Made Mommy a card! Hearts on it!”

“See?” Quinn says with a smirk, gesturing to his niece. “Freya’s got you covered.”

Ainsley rolls her eyes but kisses the top of Freya’s head with a tender smile. “Thanks, sweetheart. At least someone in this house loves me.”

Freya giggles and leans up to give her mom a huge sloppy kiss on the cheek. Before Quinn can make another smart comment, the doorbell rings.

Ainsley glances at Quinn, frowning. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“Nope,” Quinn says, shoving another chip into his mouth, his brows furrowed in confusion and concern.

Sighing, Ainsley shifts Freya onto her other hip and opens the door. A delivery man is standing there with a white box tied with a bright red ribbon.

“Ms. Hughes?” he asks, consulting the clipboard in his hand. His chest is lifting heavily probably from the amount of time he spent in the elevator to get to their floor.

“That’s me,” she says slowly.

“This is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day,” the man says before handing over the box and heading back to the elevator

Ainsley wants to shout at him but it is too late. The doors of the elevator are already closing after him. She shuts the door, staring down at the box in confusion.

“What is it?” Quinn asks, sitting up on the couch now, his curiosity clearly piqued.

“I have no idea,” Ainsley mutters, setting the box on the counter and waiting for Quinn to join them.

Freya is taken into Quinn’s arms, her little hands reaching eagerly for the ribbon. “Open it, Mommy?”

“Hold on,” Ainsley says, her fingers trembling slightly as she pulls the ribbon loose. Lifting the lid, she freezes. Inside is a heart-shaped cake, beautifully decorated with pink frosting. The words Happy Valentine’s Day, Ainsley, and Freya are written in elegant script across the top.

Quinn let out a low whistle, leaning over her shoulder. “Looks like someone’s got an admirer.”

Ainsley shoots him a sharp look, her cheeks heating. “It’s probably just…” She trails off, unable to come up with a reasonable explanation. Because actually, she has none.

“Maybe Jacky and Luke sent it?” she tries, but she knows if it were her younger brother’s they would do something crazier, and by the look Quinn gives her, she only confirms it.

Freya bounces on her uncle’s hip, pointing at the cake. “Can eat? Pleeease?”

Ainsley ignores her brother’s knowing smirk as she reaches for her phone, already suspecting who the sender might be instead of her brothers. She taps out a quick message.

Ainsley - Did you send us a cake?

Her phone buzzes almost immediately.

Nico - Maybe. Do you like it?

Quinn is peering over her shoulder now, reading the message with a grin. “Nico?” he asks, far too amused for her liking. Not that Quinn likes the idea of Nico sending his twin cake but he can’t say it isn’t a nice gesture.

“Shut up,” Ainsley mumbles, but her lips betray her with the tiniest hint of a smile.

Freya tugs on Ainsley’s sleeve, her eyes locked on the cake. “Can eat now, Mommy?”

“Hold on,” Ainsley says, shooting Quinn a warning look as he snickers. “Go wash your hands first, Freya.” Quinn carefully puts her down ruffling her hair.

Freya huffs but obeys, scurrying off to the bathroom. The moment she is out of earshot, Ainsley turns to Quinn. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting.” Quinn leans back against the counter, arms crossed. “The guy’s in New Jersey, and he’s still out here sending Valentine’s cakes? That’s some dedication for someone you’ve only met twice.” Even though he’s making fun of it he’s not keen on this idea of Nico’s.

“It’s not like that,” Ainsley says quickly, though the warmth creeping up her neck betrays her. “He’s just… being nice.”

Quinn smirks. “Sure. Because it’s totally normal for a guy to ship a personalized cake to someone he’s just being nice to.”

Ainsley groans and turns her attention back to her phone. She taps out another message.

Ainsley - Freya is very excited, by the way. Ainsley - Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.

His response comes almost instantly.

Nico - I wanted to. She’s a great kid. Nico - And you deserve something nice today too.

Ainsley stares at the screen, her heart doing an annoying little flutter. She is so distracted that she doesn’t notice Freya returning, her hands still a bit damp from washing.

“Mommy, show Nico card now?” Freya asks, holding up the bright pink paper covered in glitter and heart stickers.

Quinn snorts. “This is gold.” But the thing does something to his heart. Seeing his niece being this comfortable around a guy she met only twice makes him a little uncomfortable.

Ainsley shoots him another glare. “Freya, honey, Nico’s in New Jersey. We can’t exactly hand-deliver your card.”

Freya’s face falls for a moment before she brightens up. “Show him on phone!”

Before Ainsley can argue, Freya climbs onto the chair next to her, holding the card up toward the phone camera. “Look, Mommy! Picture for Nico!”

Quinn, who is utterly useless, bursts into laughter. “You’re doomed.”

Ainsley sighs but can’t bring herself to say no to Freya’s excited smile. She snaps a picture of the card and sends it to Nico with a quick caption:

Ainsley - Freya insisted you see her Valentine’s masterpiece. Ainsley - Prepare for glitter.

Nico doesn’t waste any second and replies almost immediately.

Nico - Tell Freya it’s perfect Nico - And it made my day. Nico - But now I feel bad I didn’t give her a card either.

Freya, who is watching over her mommy’s shoulder, furrows her brows.

“He likes it, Mommy?” she asks, completely confused about all the words on the screen.

“Yeah baby he does,” she ruffles her hair with a soft smile. Seeing her daughter this happy makes her happy.

“He likes it! Uncle Quinn, you hear? Nico likes card!”

Quinn ruffles her hair with a grin. “I heard, kiddo. Looks like you’ve got a fan.”

Ainsley groans, burying her face in her hands. “You’re both impossible.”

But even as Quinn teases her and Freya bounces around the kitchen, Ainsley can’t help sneaking another glance at her phone.

Ainsley - Thanks again

She types, hesitating for a moment before adding, Ainsley - You didn’t just make Freya’s day. You made mine too.

The response is simple, but it makes her heart skip.

Nico - Good. That’s all I wanted.

It isn’t much, just a few words, but Nico can picture Ainsley reading them, maybe rolling her eyes, maybe smiling without meaning to. He doesn’t know her that well yet, but he knows enough to guess she probably isn’t used to someone making an effort for her.

Freya, though—Freya makes it easy.

His phone buzzes again, and when he glances at the screen, another picture of the glitter-covered Valentine’s card stares back at him. It is crooked, the stickers are placed haphazardly, and the words To Nico! are written in Freya’s wobbly, oversized letters.

He huffs out a quiet laugh. She made him a Valentine’s card. A fucking Valentine’s card.

And now he kind of wishes he had thought to make one too. Even though it is a childish thing.

Shaking his head, he runs a hand through his hair and opens his camera roll. He scrolls until he finds what he is looking for—a picture from last week, snapped on a whim. It is a shot of the Hudson River at sunset, the water painted in streaks of pink and orange, a few buildings silhouetting in the distance. He took it while he was walking home from dinner, not really thinking much of it at the time.

Now, though, it feels like the right thing to send.

Nico - Tell Freya I owe her a Valentine next year. Nico - But for now, this is for you both. Nico - Since you made my day too.

He attaches the photo and hits send.

It isn’t a cake, which they already have. It isn’t a stuffed animal or something Freya can hold in her tiny hands. But maybe, just maybe, it is enough to remind Ainsley that he is thinking about them—even from thousands of miles away.

His phone buzzes again a few seconds later.

Ainsley - Freya says, ‘Ooooh, so pretty!’ Ainsley - And thank you. It’s beautiful.

A slow warmth spreads through Nico’s chest. He doesn’t know exactly what he is doing, or where this is going, but he knows one thing for sure.

He isn’t just thinking about them today.

He thinks about them every damn day.

Quinn - You knew about Nico’s Valentine’s surprise?

Quinn doesn’t have to wait long for a response, considering in New Jersey, is nine pm and Jack is phone addicted.

Jacky boy – What surprise? Jacky boy – Luke doesn’t know too.

Quinn sighs at that and shakes his head. Jack is not as sly as he thinks he is. Of course, he knows about this and so does Luke.

Quinnifer – Jack Rowden Hughes, you knew! Quinnifer – You little piece of shit!! Quinnifer – Why the hell you did not tell me?

On the other side of America, Jack is lying on a couch with Luke, both laughing at their angry older brother. They had known for about two months now that Nico id planning something to surprise Ainsley, they even helped him.

They knew if they told Quinn, he would fly out of his skin. He is sometimes too overprotective of Ainsley. Not that Jack and Luke aren’t, hell they didn’t like the idea of Nico having a crush on her, but they know him, and they trust him.

And Nico knows he can’t fuck up. He is kind of scared of Quinn when it comes to Ainsley. He heard how he is when it comes to his twin sister.

Jack just shakes his head at the overprotectiveness and types out a quite long response.

Jack boy – Because you are acting like a fucking psycho when it comes to sis.

As soon as he sends it, his phone rings and his brother’s face pops on the screen. Jack groans annoyed which makes Luke look over at him. Luke's eyes roll back when they see Quinn’s face.

“Pick it. You know he won’t stop.”

“Hello there, my dear brother!” Jack says with a cheesy smile.

“What the hell?” Quinn whisper-yells, looking around himself to make sure Ainsley isn’t nearby. “I swear to Stanley Cup if you helped him-”

“Okay, Q. Shut it! We didn’t like the idea from the beginning, but hey, Nico isn’t like the asshole.” Luke says annoyed by his brother’s overprotectiveness.

“Yeah, I know. It was kinda nice of him. You should see Freya; she even made him a fucking card,” He shakes his head pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I don’t like the idea of some man being like this after he met her only two times.”

“That is really nice of her,” Jack says his heart melting over his favorite niece. Before he can say anything else his sister’s voice startles him.

“Quinn! Are you serious?” Ainsley’s head pops on the screen, her eyes full of disbelief. “You are way too overprotective. And you two, thank you for helping him. It was nice of him and you.”

“You are welcome, gorgeous.” Luke winks at her, a blush coating her cheeks.

“Anyway, I and Freya are going to call Nico to thank him. And you, young man,” she looks at Quinn with furrowed brows. “Stop it!” with that she angrily walks out of the room, leaving her three brothers alone.

Annoyed by Quinn’s overprotectiveness she walks inside her room, where is Freya impatiently waiting for her mom so they can finally call Nico.

“Mommy, call!” she shrieks and makes a grabby hand at her mom.

“Minute baby! Mommy has to change her clothes first,” she says while she stands in front of the wardrobe, thinking about what she should wear.

“Mommy!” Freya whines kicking her legs as she lays on her back.

“Okay! Mommy doesn’t need to change.”

She doesn’t even know why she thought about changing, it isn’t like she needs to look good in front of Nico.

As she sits down, Freya climbs on her lap, her tiny hands reaching for the phone she is holding in front of them.

“What do we say when Nico pics up baby?”

“Hello, Nico!” Freya giggles as she watches her mom click on Nico's contact and FaceTime him.

It takes a few seconds before Nico’s face pops on the screen and Freya giggles from excitement.

“Grizzly!” she shrieks, her face being the only thing Nico can see.

“Freya!” Ainsley gasps in disbelief, while Nico only laughs at the nickname. She takes the phone from her daughter’s hands and rests it against the pillow so both of them can be seen. She grabs Freya’s shirt when she almost falls face straight down on the bed and sits her on her lap. “We don’t say things like-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ainsley is interrupted by Nico’s laughter. “I kinda look like one.”

“You like card?” Freya asks, crawling from Ainsley’s lap closer to the phone, this time her nose and eyes taking over Nico’s screen.

“I love it,” he smiles when he hears the sweet giggles coming from her small mouth. “Freya, would you mind moving back a little bit so I can see your mommy?” he asks, grinning when Freya nods her head and moves back on Ainsley’s lap. Ainsley soothes the hair from her daughter’s face away, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

“You should see her face when I picked her up from preschool and she told me she has a surprise for you.” Ainsley giggles, her eyes not leaving Freya whose attention is now on her stuffed bunny.

“I can imagine that.”

“Anyway, thank you again for the cake. It was delicious, right Fre?” she nudges her shoulder to get her attention.

“Yes, yummy.” Even though she answers, her attention does not leave the bunny for a second.

“Well, I am glad you liked it. But the credits go to Jack and Luke.” He says shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I know,” she giggles, sitting more comfortably. The conversation between her and Nico takes another hour or so before she excuses herself that she needs to batch Freya and feed her.

It is when she’s just sitting on the couch that Quinn comes to her with chocolate in his hand and a nervous smile on his lips.

“I am sorry sis. I know I was acting like an asshole, but you have to understa-” he rambles out, standing in front of her.

“I do Quinny. It’s just annoying how overprotective you are.” She sighs, snatching the chocolate from his hands. A giggle leaves her mouth when Quinn jumps on her, tickling her sides.

“Stop it!” she giggles, squirming under Quinn’s body. “Quinifer!”

“Okay, okay.” He says between laughs, rolling down from her.

“You know she called him a Grizzly?” she says after a while, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt.

“Really?” he chuckles, pride swirling through his chest. “Well, he kind of looks like one.” Ainsley glares at him, but the playful smirk on his lips softens her and she smiles.

But he is handsome Grizzly.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Three

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy on this chapter. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.7k

A/N : ... Billy is/continues to be clueless, but at least he's cute doing it😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

Master List

Chapter Three

His hand stayed in yours all the way up to the fourth floor and to your door.

Or maybe it was your hand in his.

Honestly, there was no telling which of you was holding on, and it didn’t even cross your mind to wonder about it until you stopped outside your door. Billy stayed next to you, looking at you expectantly and you realised that he actually wanted to go into your apartment.

Your discomfort grew as he remained silent, not even offering an explanation as to what he wanted or why he was still there.

“What are you going to do? Check my apartment for monsters?” You asked, exasperated, finally untangling your hand from his so you could find your keeps and unlock the door.

He didn’t answer, he just fixed you with an unimpressed look, almost as if he thought you should know what he wanted. Once the lock clicked, you hesitated, hoping he’d take the hint. But, of course, he didn’t. 

You rolled your eyes and pushed the door open, allowing him to follow you into your apartment. As soon as you were inside, the door was shut and the latch was slid into place. 

A relieved sigh slipped from your lips as you finally kicked off your uncomfortable shoes, but any relief you felt was short-lived when you looked at the looming figure of Billy Russo in your apartment.

“So... am I supposed to offer you a drink?” You asked, barely managing to hold back the awkward frustration that was building inside of you.

“Coffee would be great,” Billy answered.

If his attention had been on you, he might have caught the flicker of annoyance on your face as you huffed and headed towards the kitchen, but he was too busy glancing around your sparse apartment.

While it might not have been the nicest apartment, and you’d done little to make it more homely in the six months that you’d been there, it wasn’t some awful shithole. It had potential - you just needed to find the time, money, and inclination to do something with it. It was mid at worst, and a work in progress at best. But it was safe and warm, and had more than enough space for you.

Most importantly, you were happy with it - it was the best that you could afford.

So, you didn’t even stop to think about why Billy was looking around the place as if you’d dragged him into a hovel, nor did you question the silence.

It was a little strange though. You knew that he hadn’t always been filthy rich. In fact, it was well known that he’d grown up with nothing and he’d built himself up. It was all pretty inspirational stuff. So, it made no sense for him to find your apartment offensive.

You tried to ignore it, putting a fresh filter in the coffee machine before starting it up, doing everything and anything you could not to look at him.

“I thought -” he started but stopped himself.

“What?” You prompted, biting back a sigh as you grabbed a couple of mugs.

“I thought I paid you better than... this.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your -”

“It is my business if you’re hiding something that’s going to make me look bad,” he interrupted.

There was no sharpness in his voice, no accusation, but you still didn’t like it. It wasn’t his business. You weren’t some under-performing asset and you weren’t about to let him treat you like one.

You all but slammed the mug in your hand onto the counter, losing what little composure you had left. It was a wonder that the mug didn’t break, but you didn’t stop to think about that.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight,” you started. The sudden and uncharacteristic sharpness in your voice clearly caught him off-guard because he damn near winced. “You dragged me into this and now I’m on the hook if things go wrong. But my money and how I live is my business, now yours. I like this apartment. I like living here. And that’s all there is to it.”

There was no missing the way his eyes widened as you spoke - while you had more than enough experience with his moods and temper, he’d never seen yours. But it was about time. If you were going to spend six months at his side, you were going to do it as yourself and not as the docile PA who did everything she could to keep him happy.

You were a human being and he needed to understand that.

You forced yourself to turn from him to grab the coffee pot, pouring two mugs;  black coffee for him and adding cream to your own.

“You like living in an apartment that has hardly any furniture?” He asked after a few seconds of silence, a hint of playfulness in his tone as if he was trying to lighten the mood.

You considered calling him out, telling him that he could just turn an awkward situation of his creation into a joke to get out of it, but it had been a long day and you were exhausted.

You just wanted him to drink his coffee and leave.

“I have a job that doesn’t exactly give me a lot of time to go furniture shopping,” you said, earning a forced smile from Billy. “Unless you want me to do it from my desk, instead of making sure you get your lunch on time.”

If he wanted to say anything else on the matter, he kept it to himself, but you were sure you saw a brief moment of understanding finally pass over his face. You were good at your job, you knew he knew at least that much, but clearly he’d never stopped to think about just how much it took for you to be that good.

With little more than a nod of your head, you directed him to the threadbare sofa that sat in front of the TV - a TV that was currently standing on a stack of old cookery books. 

If Billy had an opinion on it, he chose to keep it to himself.

He sat on one end of the sofa, you sat on the other, a single solitary seat between you, but it might as well have been miles with how things suddenly felt between the pair of you.

“So,” he said, leaving that one little word to hang in the air between you, as if he expected you to know what to do with it. When you shrugged, he clarified; “don’t you think we ought to talk about tonight?”

“I hope you’re not intending to give me a performance review.”

You were joking, but only just.

Billy almost laughed but shook his head. “No it’s just - well, at dinner you obviously had some notes about what I was doing wrong, so I figure we should at least try to get on the same page.”

Immediately you found yourself wondering if it was you or Billy that would be expected to try.

“Okay,” you said but chose not to expand on it, instead waiting to see where he wanted the conversation to go.

You caught him staring at his mug for a second, and you wondered if his usual confidence had started to abandon him after your outburst in the kitchen, or if he was just as tired as you were.

“Okay,” he said, mirroring your comment and the pause that followed, seeming to hope you’d jump in. When you didn’t, he continued; “I suppose we should start with the kiss.”

Just the mention of it had your heart fluttering, the memory of the moment filling your mind. It had been so gentle, so tender, and just the thought of it had you nervously running your tongue over your lower lip and heat licking across your cheeks.

“What about it?” You asked, lifting your mug and taking a slow sip, hoping to hide the sudden worry that had started to fill you.

(Had there been something wrong with the kiss? Had you done something wrong? Had you  kissed him wrong? Was he going to tell you that he’d hated it?)

“Was it - was it okay?” He asked. “I mean - we didn’t discuss it beforehand, and I know I should have asked permission or given you a little more warning.”

Oh.

He seemed genuinely uncomfortable at the thought that he might have forced you to do something you weren’t comfortable with and that was... odd and unexpected. And, in a weird way, it was incredibly sweet.

“It was fine,” you answered quickly, cheeks burning hotter with every awkward word, “more than fine. I mean - unexpected, sure, but if we’re going to sell this, then I guess we’ll have to kiss sometimes...”

“Right,” he agreed with an audible sigh of relief, “and it’s not like it really means anything.”

“Right.”

It didn’t mean anything.

Nothing.

Not a damned thing.

(So why was the memory causing your heart to pound?)

In retrospect, you were willing to chalk the butterflies in your stomach up to shock. He’d taken you by surprise with the kiss. And, sure, you were willing to admit that you’d always harboured a vague curiosity about your boss and what it would be like to be kissed by him - though it had always been an obviously silly, unprofessional thought that you’d never had any intention of acting on before tonight.

Even you weren’t so ridiculous that you couldn’t admit that Billy was an attractive man, and his looks were only one of countless reasons why so many women seemed desperate to be at his side.

“What I said,” you started awkwardly, needing to say it before you lost the nerve, “when I assumed that your other relationships had been meaningless, I - I shouldn’t’ve said that. It wasn’t fair.”

Billy nodded, silently accepting the apology.

“I’m sorry if I was... dismissive when you suggested going to that movie festival,” he said, glancing away from you. “The truth is a lot of my dates are usually very one-note; it’s dinner or a gala or some exclusive club. I don’t really...”

He trailed off into an awkward sigh, and you were left trying to read between the lines. Fortunately, you knew enough about him to put two and two together. It had always been your assumption that he used the women he was with, that he got what he wanted then kicked them to the curb, but you were starting to realise that he was probably used just as much.

Billy Russo opened a lot of doors, and to aspiring models, actresses, and socialites - well, you could see why they’d want to be seen on his arm, and how they could use him to step up a couple of rungs on the social ladder.

And, for reasons you didn’t want to consider, that made you feel sad.

“Don’t you ever just go out and do things for fun?” You asked, not really thinking too much about the question.

“Fun?” He repeated, seeming confused by the concept. “Was tonight not fun?”

Then, again, he was looking at you like you were from another planet and he had no idea how to even begin to understand you. And you - you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, even though you were sure it didn’t help the situation.

“Billy, I like Italian food as much as the next person, and I’ll never say no to the chance to have some tiramisu, but going to a restaurant isn’t exactly fun,” you told him and instantly regretted it as the corner of his lips started to tug downwards. “Not that I didn’t have fun with you but - c’mon, we probably had more fun in the car than we did at the restaurant.”

“That was fun for you? Just... talking to me?”

Again there was that pang of something, that uncomfortable squeeze beneath your ribs of - what? Pity?

“Of course it was,” you answered before your own paranoia decided to rear its ugly head again. “Did you not -”

“No - I mean, yeah, I enjoyed it. I just -” he seemed to struggle for a few seconds, “- I don’t know, guess I’m just not used to people wanting that from me.”

You took a breath, biting back all the little things you wanted to say, reassurances that you wanted to give that somehow felt too personal to offer your boss. Perhaps, instead, you could show him. Even if it was all pretend, it didn’t mean that you couldn’t have fun and enjoy each other’s company, right? 

“Then maybe that’s where we should start?” You offered. “We can try new things, have some fun, and do things differently to how you normally do them? If that doesn’t convince VDK that you’re a changed man, nothing will.”

Billy took a second to consider the offer before nodding. “Okay. We can start with that movie festival.”

“Great,” you said with a smile, immediately reaching for your phone.

He watched you as your focus completely shifted from him to your phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Booking tickets,” you explained, still tapping away on your phone. “And I’ll have to make sure that your schedule is completely clear.”

“Oh, shouldn’t I do -” he started and then abruptly stopped, letting out an awkward laugh.

You looked up from your phone, fixing him with a questioning look before it dawned on you.

“Did you just realise that you usually rely on me to book these sorts of things for you?” You asked, fighting back a smirk.

How many times had he told someone that he’d do something with one breath, only to ask you to do it for him with the next? It was ridiculous in a funny sort of way just how much you did to ensure that his life ran smoothly. In fact, you were a little shocked that he’d been able to book the restaurant tonight without your help.

“Right. Guess I should pay you overtime if you’re going to be doing all this extra work for me for the next six months,” Billy said, laughing.

“To be fair, you’re not exactly the most demanding boss I’ve ever had.” You barely even looked up from your phone as you spoke.

“No?”

“Not really,” you shrugged. “At least, not anymore.”

If Billy wanted to know what you meant by that, he didn’t ask, instead he lifted his mug and took a long, slow drink.

“You’re good at reading me,” he offered, “good at anticipating what I want before I even ask. Good with other people too - never seen anyone render Frank speechless with a coffee and a bear claw before.”

An unseemly snort of laughter escaped you, the kind of sound that would only be described as piggish, and you felt your cheeks grow hotter as you desperately tried to ignore the amused look Billy shot you. 

“Okay the, uh - the tickets are booked,” you said, keeping your eyes on your phone for a few seconds more.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, fifty dollars, I got VIP tickets so we don’t have to queue for any of the screenings,” you explained, wondering if you should have asked before ordering the more expensive tickets.

“Fifty dollars for two VIP tickets?” He asked, sounding almost amused at the low cost.

“No, I mean, yours cost fifty, I -”

“You’re not paying for your own ticket,” Billy told you firmly, already pulling out his own phone, no doubt to transfer the money to you.

You wanted to argue because he’d just spent god only knew how much at Bianchi’s, but you knew that tone of voice and you knew he was not going to take no for an answer. And, honestly, again, it was late and you were getting tired.

“Fine, but I’m paying for the popcorn,” you countered.

It was Billy’s turn to roll his eyes but, surprisingly, he didn’t argue. In fact, he seemed to find it funny. And, again, you found yourself wondering what his real dates were like and if they expected him to pay for everything. Maybe that was why they wanted him in the first place, so he’d pay for everything.

Even though he was your boss and you were, eventually at least, going to be paid for pretending to date him, it just seemed sleazy to take advantage of him like that.

Case and point, the dress.

You drained the last of your coffee and looked down at yourself.

“While you’re here, you might as well wait while I change out of this dress. I kept the tags so you should be able to take it back and -”

“Take it back?” He said, confused again.

“Yeah, so you can get it refunded.”

“Why would I -”

You didn’t even let him finish the question before letting out a heavy sigh. “Because it’s expensive. Too expensive. And it’s not like I’ll wear it again.”

He looked ready to respond immediately but then some thought seemed to strike, causing an uncomfortable look to spread across his face.

“You don’t like it.” Statement not a question. He sounded disappointed, almost like a little kid finding out that their dad never really liked the novelty ties they brought them every single Christmas.

“It’s not that, it’s -” 

“I thought you liked that colour,” he continued, ignoring your protests. “You have a sweater in that shade, and it really brings out the colour of your eyes...”

Whatever you might have wanted to say died on your lips. You hadn’t worn the sweater in question in well over a month, and it seemed unthinkable to you that he’d actually remembered it, thought about it even, when he was picking the dress. (And you actively avoided even thinking about the eye comment.)

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said as your eyes dropped to look at the dress again. “It’s a beautiful dress, it’s just... too much? I look ridiculous prancing around in a dress that cost so much.”

“You don’t want it because it’s too expensive?” He asked, barely holding back a laugh. “I think you’re the first person to ever complain that a gift cost too much.”

Billy didn’t seem to realise that that statement said just as much about him and his life as it did you and yours. It made you remember the way he’d called you out for assuming all of his past relationships had been meaningless; had he been trying to buy their affection, or did he only manage to find women who wanted him for his money?

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? I’m supposed to be different from the others,” you tried to explain. “And, anyway, I don’t want people thinking I’m some gold digger or that you’re my... my sugar daddy.”

A sudden gasp of laughter escaped Billy, shaking his body so violently that he almost spilled what was left of his coffee.

“Christ, please don’t call me that again.”

You had to laugh as well, if only to relieve the tension in your body.

“I guess it’s good to know that you’re not into that,” you said, smirking at him. “I don’t think I could keep a straight face if you were.”

“No, that’s the one thing you don’t have to worry about,” he said.

And there was something in his words, some hidden meaning you couldn’t quite grasp, a warning even, but you didn’t dare ask what he was trying to tell you. It didn’t matter. Nothing was ever going to happen between you.

Without warning, Billy drained the last of his coffee and got to his feet.

“I want you to keep the dress,” he told you, “even if you decide to sell it. Though, I’d prefer that you didn’t, I think you look lovely in it.”

Suddenly, your lungs refused to draw breath and all you could do was stare at him, wondering if he was playing some cruel trick, or if he was just telling you he thought you looked lovely because that was just what was expected of him. 

Either way, it took you a few seconds to realise that he was leaving and get to your feet to follow after, watching as he placed his coffee mug by the sink before heading towards the door.

“I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

“Yes, Mr - Billy,” you said, your eyes following his hand as he unlatched the door.

He turned back to look at you as he started to open the door. “And, for the record, what you said earlier, about people seeing you as a downgrade to the women I usually date, I think you’re wrong.”

He didn’t expand on the comment or give you a chance to ask before slipping out of your apartment and, finally, leaving you alone.

As you laid in bed that night, the dress carefully folded and placed back into the box along with all the tags, you found yourself thinking about him and the bizarre evening you’d spent together.

You’d seen a side to him that you’d never seen before, and allowed him to see far more of yourself than you were usually comfortable with, but it was his laugh that you couldn’t get out of your head. You’d heard him laugh, seen him smile, countless times, but never like he had tonight in those strange little moments that seemed to catch him off-guard.

Of course, you didn’t think it was you per se that had brought out that side of him but, rather, the honesty of the situation. It was clear he was used to dates being performative,  transactional almost, the women he was seeing taking whatever they wanted from him while he got - what? Sex, probably.

You pushed that thought away, knowing it would only complicate things to dwell on it.

Tonight had just been the first night, and you still had six months to go.

Closing your eyes, you drifted off with the hopes that things could only get easier.

Your weekend went the way that you weekends often did. Saturday was spent making sure you had everything that you’d need for the following week, which included a couple of hours spent trying to find a better pair of shoes for the next time Billy decided he wanted to take you to dinner. And Sunday was spent the way your Sundays normally were; visiting your brother.

But your trip to Saint Martin’s was cut a little shorter than usual, Seb was tired and managed to fall asleep as you were reading to him, and  you’d never had the heart to wake him when he was sleeping. 

You spoke with the people responsible for his care, assuring them that the fee increase would not be a problem  and, then, you went on your way. 

On your way home you decided to stop to treat yourself to a new book and the rest of the weekend was lost to the pages of Stephen King’s The Institute.

Come Monday morning something was off. 

Your commute went as normal but, when you stepped into The Bean Grinder to grab your usual coffees and a bear claw for Billy, you were met with strange smiles. As you left, you stopped to check yourself and make sure you hadn’t left the apartment in your pyjamas or had messed up your make-up, but you looked normal, average.

You decided that it must just be them, something going on in the coffee shop that you didn’t need to know about.

As you stepped into Anvil, there were more little glances from people waiting by the elevator as you headed to the security barrier.

“Morning Carl,” you said, working extra hard to force your smile and sound happy. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he answered, thankfully sounding like his usual self. “Got that video of Lyra’s recital if you want to see?”

Something normal, something that wasn’t weird.

“Definitely,” you answered without hesitation, placing your coffee and food on the security desk as he headed towards you, phone in hand.

He hit play and you stepped a little closer to look at the screen. There was a little girl, only eight years old, dressed in a frilly red dress, playing Amazing Grace on clarinet. You watched with a smile almost as wide as Carl’s, amazed at how talented the little girl was.

You were so caught up in the video, that you didn’t realise someone was behind you until you felt a hand on the small of your back.

Somehow you managed to bite back a squeal of shock, as your head whipped around to see Billy. Carl also had a similar response and started to pull back his phone.

“What are you watching?” Billy asked.

His tone was friendly, but it was obvious that Carl felt caught out by Mr Russo’s sudden appearance, like he was about to get in trouble.

“Carl was showing me his daughter’s clarinet recital,” you explained, “she’s really good.”

You flashed Carl a reassuring smile, refusing to believe even for a second that he was going to get in trouble. He wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let him.

“Oh, okay,” was all Billy said. “Are you heading up now?”

“Yeah,” you said, again smiling at Carl and offering him a slight but reassuring nod. “I’ll see you later Carl.”

With that you grabbed the coffees and bear claw from the desk and started to follow Billy towards the elevator. About halfway there, he relieved you of the coffees, earning a smile from you.

“Are you always so friendly with everyone?” He asked as the elevator door slid shut.

“I guess?” You answered, shrugging. “Carl’s always been really nice to me. The other week he let me borrow his umbrella when I had to go out to get lunch.”

Billy didn’t say anything - you doubted that he cared, but you wanted to make sure he understood that Carl was a good employee and, more than that, someone you liked. In fact, he remained silent for the rest of the short trip up to the top floor of the building.

The elevator gave a ding and Billy let you step out first, though you quickly stopped in your tracks when you found Mr Castle leaning against your desk. You looked from him to Billy and back again, a mild look of shock on your face as you tried to figure out if you’d forgotten to schedule a meeting.

“What are you doing up here this early on a Monday, Frankie?” Billy asked, grinning at his friend.

“Just thought I’d come see if you had any of those bear claws goin’ spare,” Castle answered, looking directly at you.

“Oh, I didn’t know that you’d -” you looked down at the paper bag in your hand, “- I can run back across and -”

“Relax, I’m kiddin’” Mr Castle interrupted before you could get too flustered. “Just, do me a favour, blink twice if Bill here is blackmailin’ you.”

You did blink, but it was more than twice.

“What?” You asked, not getting the joke.

Billy clearly understood what Frank was getting at because he let out a forced sigh.

“Fucking hell, Frankie, leave her alone,” Billy said, not bothering to hold back his annoyance.

He turned to look at you for a moment, letting you take your coffee from the tray, and hand him the paper bag with his breakfast. Then he nodded towards his office and Frank Castle followed him inside.

It wasn’t until you sat at your desk and opened your laptop that your strange morning finally started to make sense to you.

You’d set up the google alert for professional reasons, wanting to make sure that nothing libellous or damaging to Anvil was posted about Billy. More often than not, whenever it pinged it was just photos of him and whichever woman happened to be on his arm, stories about him, stories about him at clubs or galas. Or restaurants.

Your heart stopped and you felt sick when you clicked the alert and saw photos of you and Billy at Bianchi’s; holding hands, eating dinner... kissing.

New York’s most eligible bachelor, Billy Russo, takes unknown to Bianchi’s. 

Even if you’d wanted to read the article you couldn’t have. You couldn’t focus your eyes, couldn’t - anything. Closing your laptop, you tugged at the top button of your blouse, feeling like you were being choked by your own collar.

That was why everyone was being weird with you. They thought - fuck, what did they think?

You couldn’t decide what was worse, that they thought you were just someone he was fucking before he moved on to the next, or that you were sleeping with Billy to advance your career.

Somehow, you managed to stand from your desk and make your way to the small bathroom, locking yourself in while you forced yourself through some breathing exercises to try and push the panic away.

Realistically, you knew that you should have expected it - all of Billy’s dates ended up with unwanted publicity in the gossip blogs and the society sections, after all - but seeing those photos of yourself, in that dress, tangled up in Billy Russo’s arms had you feeling more insecure about yourself than you had in years.

The only saving grace was the fact that they hadn’t known your name to publish, though you were sure that wouldn’t last.

It took ten minutes for you to calm down and compose yourself, but the sick feeling in your gut lingered long after you returned to your desk and tried to start your day again, minimising the window that had your photo on.

Frank Castle sauntered out of Billy’s office about twenty minutes later. He gave you a look, a smile that you didn’t understand but he didn’t speak until he was in the elevator and the doors were closing.

“No accountin' for taste, I guess.”

And, with that you felt some part of you break.

Before you could stop to consider what you were doing, your laptop was under your arm and you were walking into Billy’s office. He seemed a little shocked at you just barging in, but didn’t say anything. Approaching his desk, you opened your laptop and put it down in front of him, maximising the gossip blog window again.

You wanted to say something; look at that, someone was photographing us, someone was invading our privacy. Instead, you said nothing, allowing Billy a moment to scan the pictures and the story about his date with an unknown woman.

He didn’t seem shocked, he didn’t even seem to care.

Until he saw your face.

“I...” whatever he wanted to say seemed to die on his lips. Billy took a breath before continuing. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to it now that I didn’t stop to think how you’d feel about it.”

“No one believes it,” you said, quietly, feeling like it was all you could manage. “It won’t work, even Mr Castle -”

“Frank? What did Frank say?” Billy asked, a sharpness slipping into his voice as he got to his feet. For a moment you wondered if he was about to hunt Frank Castle down.

“That there’s no accounting for taste and - and he’s right, Billy. No one will believe that you’d want -” your voice threatened to break.

Before you could finish, you found yourself pulled against him, his arms tight around your body as he held you.

“No - no, that’s not what he meant,” he said, trying to reassure you. “He doesn’t understand why you’d want to be with me, not the other way around.”

Oh.

Closing your eyes tight, you melted against his chest, letting him hold you for a few sweet moments.

Billy pulled back, his hands framing your face, forcing you to look at him, and you found an unexpected look of concern. You barely even noticed the way one of his thumbs was tenderly stroking your cheek because you were too busy getting lost in his eyes.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “If it’s going to make you uncomfortable or upset you, I can find another way to get the VDK contract.”

Right. The VDK contract. That was what all of this was for.

You managed to shake your head.

“No, I can -” there was an audible break in your voice and you forced yourself to take a step back, out of his hold. “Sorry. I just - it took me by surprise. I never - I guess I never stopped to think that this is how it would have to be.”

Billy gave an understanding nod, seeming to think on it a moment before offering; “if you want to take the day -”

“No. No, I can’t do that,” you quickly said. “People are already going to assume that I’m getting special treatment from you, and I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.”

“Alright, fine,” Billy relented but you could tell he wasn’t entirely happy about it. “But I’m taking you out for lunch today, okay?”

“Maybe we  -”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he told you. “Anyway, I think it’s about time I got the coffees and pastries for a change.”

All you could do was nod. It felt like your throat was closing up, and your lungs were starting to strain again. You nodded again as you gathered up your laptop and left Billy’s office and, as you were closing the door behind him, he told you to be ready for lunch at midday.

As you sat back down at your desk, you found yourself wondering just how you were going to survive six months of this. Of course you knew that you’d have to be seen with him again but you’d never really stopped to think about how what you were doing outside of Anvil would bleed into your work life. Honestly, you hadn’t had time to consider much of anything, everything was happening so fast.

You tried desperately to lose yourself in your work over the next few hours, but you kept finding your eyes on the clock, counting down the minutes until he was going to appear from his office to take you for lunch.

A/N : 😅 so I realise now that I should have pointed out that this is going to be a slightly slower burn than some of my other fics (especially compared to Love, Sick Love) but I hope you'll indulge me for the ridiculous cuteness that is a clueless Billy Russo. There's a lot of set-up involved in getting the characters to where I need them to be so I can start the drama but more is going to start happening in the next couple of chapters.

As always thanks so much the likes/comments/reblogs on this, I hope you're enjoying the fluff as much as I am. Have a wonderful weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

Tag list :

@oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18

@danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @intothesoul @uniquehijo

@anitaxl @solacedragonx @justiceforquentin @ladyblacky @marvelsunlight

@sweetserendipity65 @mrsalwayswrite @bunnygirlwriter876

[animerunner]

Me: Has never had an interest in making fakemon before.

-Gen 10 leaks happen-

Me: Suddenly coming up with a half dozen different ideas for what legendary/mythical Pokemon based on the Greek Gods would look like

[oh-no-its-bird]

KAVEH BEING MISTAKEN FOR A SENJU IS SO GOOD YESSS I LOVE THAT, THERES SO MUCH POTENTIAL THERE!!!

They think he has the mokuton because of his dendro vision ,, he's so fucked. Konoha has major dibs, they want his ass locked down and in their pocket.

Congrats Kaveh, you're no longer going to be killed for taking Naruto!!! But only because Konoha wants to chain you to them. Don't let them catch you or else it's a short trip to T&I for you and a few months of being mind fucked till you're loyal!!

Does the timeline line up right with Tsunade to make her a potential (suspected) mother to Kaveh? I think it might, since she left after the 2nd war.

Kaveh, obviously, knows better and can and will deny it. But meanwhile, Tsunade spent most of the years after the war in a near permanant state of being blackout drunk. She has very, very little memories of the time, and got into a lot of shit she kind of willfully repressed

That is to say: Tsunade... can't 100% say she's never had a child...? She's suddenly so nervous, actually

Someone mentioned Kaveh's dendro vision maybe helping him hide from trackers, somehow covering his chakra in a sort of natural nature chakra-- also helping hide Gaara and Naruto, since they're close at his side

I love that so we're going with that explanation of how he's hiding so well without even knowing it. His dendro vision is just projecting this aura of "natural chakra" around him, masking their signatures. Rip to those who are trying to find him

Alhaitham is here now !! I think he'd be worried for Kaveh but also mostly "Kaveh knows how to take care of himself and stay out of (most) trouble"

Though I think the more he realizes how hostile this world can be towards genuinely kind people, the more he might worry for Kaveh. But also like, he has to have faith Kaveh can take care of himself— at least till he finds him

Alhaitham does not get to clear up the misunderstanding in my world bc I love misunderstandings and need to see Kaveh hunted for sport (and for my amusement)

Maybe he can try tho but like, I do truly doubt he'd be believed fully.

Like, ok, ur jinchuriki is stolen by a strange foreign stranger. You go on the hunt and find him to be incredibly evasive, top tier stealth skills here. Then as you're hunting him, he goes and steals another child jinchuriki

Suddenly, this other strange foreign man (who admits himself that he is friends with the first!!) shows up and tries to explain a "misunderstanding" that he himself doesn't even have the full context for

Maybe they could have at least tried to believe him if it were just Naruto, but w him taking Gaara also like. Nah they'd toss Alhaitham's ass in a cell to give to a Yamanaka for some mind fuck jutsus. Which Alhaitham probably isnt going to just sit around and let happen to him, rip

Alhaitham is going, "This is somehow Kaveh's fault, I just know it," as he actively bashes his way out of a prison. Jail break arc !!!!

Anyways thinking about just. Kaveh treating Naruto and Gaara like the children they are. Showing them genuine care and concern and motherly love. Gaara especially tbh— obviously they've both suffered but I'd like to believe Naruto got one or two good or semi normal interactions in his life before, or at least has been in the position to witness that sort of thing

But Gaara has just kind of been trapped in an absoloute nonstop torture freak show from day one.

Kaveh will show them motherly love and worry and Naruto will go "woah... so this is what it's like..."

but Gaara will full shut down "I dont understand what is happening. Why does my entire body feel warm? Why is he look at me like that? Why does it make me want to cry? What is happening to me? What is this? Am I broken? Have I been poisoned?"

The three of them get into some sort of fight and Kaveh puts himself in front to defend his kids. Naruto is all bluster "let me protect you!" Without any of the skill but Gaara is fully "idiot, I can protect you" *massacre noises*

Afterwards Gaara is bracing for the usual screams of terror and inevitable abandonment, but when Kaveh starts to yell it isnt about Gaara being a monster but instead about how could you put yourself in that sort of situation? I'm here to protect you, Gaara!

And he like wipes away the blood from Gaara's face, looking like he's about to burst into tears. And Gaara is so, so confused because this is not how it's supposed to go— its never gone like this, ever

I think Kaveh would lose his mind a little bit over the violence but also like, not as much as he could, for several reasons

He isnt a stranger to fighting, obviously. The desert is dangerous, and he's run into his fair share of scuffles— and obviously yk, has been on some adventures with the traveler.

He does exist in proximity with Collei, and while I don't think it's ever directly stated that he's aware of her circumstances, I'd like to believe he knows at least a little. So he isn't a stranger to the terrible circumstances of some children, which can lead them to have skills beyond their age

Also just: these are kids. These are kids and he cares about them. It would take a lot to get mr bleeding heart over here to genuinley disavow someone he's already imprinted on, especially a whole child

So yeah, just, Kaveh caring for Gaara even as he is faced with the inherent violence he is built on and filled with. Kaveh showing Gaara he can be loved, even through all the blood and bone. Kaveh seeing the carnage and running past it all to hug Gaara tight and asking if he's ok

Naruto is also there going :O in the background

He's like. 6. And also Naruto. So the fear is kind of overrided by "WOAH HOW DID YOU DO THAT???? THAT WAS SO COOL YOU BEAT THEM ALL SO FAST!!!!!"

They are friends first now (best friends, Naruto insists) so Gaara himself is a priority now, and even if it was kind of scary, they're still friends!!

also @sanska :

SO REAL HE'S SO FUCKING PRETTY ITS KIND OF INSANE !!!!

There are so many artists who do him so well, most beautiful man in Tevat fr, my favorite blond. Not to mention the fansong for him FUCKS, Writing on the Wall changed my life forever

I love when people draw and write him as wearing makeup ,,, my pretty princess ,, he lines his eyes in kohl every morning and has a whole skin care routine to protect his skin from the desert sun, pass it on. It's just canon to me.

I want to think about Kaveh (genshin impact) in Naruto but I haven't touched Genshin for longer than an hour in over a year now. I never even officially met Kaveh, I never hit his quests. So Idk if I can do him justice

But like, ,,, ough,,, Kaveh in Naruto ,,,, my babygirl most ever,,,

[kirby-the-gorb]

[purplelea]

Those polls "could xyz character survive the Reaper's Game" have people tend to forget that the main reason why anyone would survive the Game isn't because they are smart or talented, because they would be able to solve puzzles or defeat noise, but because... they are able to change.

Shibuya's Reaper Game isn't like any Reaper's Game. They take an entry fee, being what one's value most, and that loss forces people through a difficult situation they can only solve by growing as a person. Shiki would've been erased had she not been able to accept herself as she was. Beat would've been erased had he not been able to accept to ask for help so he could protect what mattered to him. Neku would've been erased had he not been able to learn to expand his world and trust his partners.

Of course, people changing (for the better) means their Soul gets more refined and thus their Imagination level rises, but having high levels of Imagination from the start isn't all it takes for someone to win the Reaper's Game! So yeah to me, the only question you might need to answer when replying to these polls is : "Would this character be able to have character growth?" Most often yes. But sometimes... you might be surprised.

[mishy-mashy]

Got my hands on a Ultra Analysis BNHA book from a library

Some points I liked (I focused more on 1B since they don't get a lot of attention)

1B once had a Tetsutetsu BBQ. They heated him up and cooked food on him. He proceeds to ruin it when he declares his sweat is the salt to their food

Yui is canonically the prettiest first-year

Mineta has no sex appeal at all, but he thinks being a hero will make him lucky

Class B does respect Monoma. He's sharp-minded, witty, and has a way with words

Monoma sometimes wanders into 1A's dorm just to throw down a mean speech, and heads back to 1B

Juzo probably isn't helping Monoma's confrontations with 1A, since he just always asks him why he can't say it to their faces whenever Monoma complains about them

Shiozaki tries to be polite even in a fight

Pony hosts anime parties, so 1B knows a lot about anime. Vice-versa, they teach her Japanese, and everything nasty is Monoma's fault

Tokage was a gyaru

Tsuburuaba, Kaibara, and Kuroiro get worked up whenever they talk about girls

Manga likes Kenranzaki

Awase's family runs a small factory. He also restrains Monoma whenever Kendo isn't available

1B likes hearing Rin say "Aiyah", so he does it for them

Kamakiri is obsessed with cutting into things

Class B's play was really successful

Tamaki is scared of Kirishima's energy

1C was planning a send-off party for Shinsou for his upcoming hero transfer. They didn't doubt he would make it, ever since the Sports Festival

Shishikura (meatball Shiketsu boy) might've chosen Shiketsu because he likes the uniform's hat

Nakagame and Yo are dating

Tsuyu's family gets to spend a lot of time together now, since their parents' busy jobs have calmed down

Tsubasa (devil wing kid in Midoriya's memories) suspiciously lost touch with Midoriya and Bakugo in middle school (his Wiki page confirms Garaki - his grandfather - turned him into a Nomu)

Torino likes goofy gags. This rubs off on All Might (ex. when Midoriya thought he died when Torino fell with ketchup. People don't know whether to laugh or be concerned)

Nighteye has yellow streaks in his hair as a homage to All Might

Nezu likes worming into tight, dark places, so he likes Aizawa's scarf. They went into detail, describing why Nezu likes it, such as material to crawling in, etc.

Recovery Girl has to travel around Japan regularly to help people with her Quirk (as in, she uses her Quirk to help them. Healing Quirks are SO rare)

Hojo, Tabe, and Sestuno are kept in the same jail, so at least they're not separated

[thewholekittyandkaboodle]

"But, why would you lie-" 

"You think? What do you mean?" Mirabelle's questions are quickly answered by your further explanation about the world you come from. 

This was a world where the two of you became friends. It was a world where she was a housemaiden that trekked the globe to save her home and where she traveled with Captain Isabeau, Master Odile, and even spunky little Bonnie.

She ignored the pain searing through her skull, mostly because she was still processing all your words. House of Change? The King freezing all of Vaugarde in time? The sky turning red? What even was red?

But you had to be telling the truth about knowing her at least. There's no way you could have known that she took over 120 classes otherwise. This would explain why she was immune to time freeze, the Head Housemaiden surely must have done it! Who else could have? But, there was still something missing...

"What about the person with the cloak? The one that was scribbled out in your picture? You mentioned the name of someone I don't recognize. Siffrin wasn't it? If I know everyone else in the party in my world, why don't I know them too? Is that them in the picture? Is that..."

The flood gates opened. Flashes of a life spun through Mirabelle's head. They were so familiar yet they hurt so much. If she kept going her body wouldn't be able to take it. But...There was still something missing...! If what Craig said was true, then this Siffrin was someone she was supposed to save Vaugarde with! Someone that stood by her even while the world was crumbling apart! What kind of friend is she if she can't even remember their name? She has to know!

"Craig...Who...is...S-Siffrin...?"

Upon saying their name. Mirabelle fainted almost instantly.

You felt her breathe against your shoes, she was still alive at least. But she was unconscious, and didn't look like she'd wake up for a while. While you desperately trying to gather your thoughts, you see something all too familiar in the sky.

When you look up, you see red once again.

"Stitches! This is bad! THIS IS REALLY BAD!" Another voice rings through your head. It's different than the one you heard in the void, and much more emotionally charged.

"Okay, you over there! Don't panic! I can fix this!" The voice hummed in thought before finally speaking again.

"Oh! I know a healing spell! It'll help with any concussion she might have. Can you uh, carry her over here towards the favor tree? If not then skootch over to the side, it'll take longer to heal her, but I'll manage."

Begin

(Optional background music)

You awake in a void pitched lightless surrounded by bright stars and astral bodies. Your body feels like mush, but it's quite weightless as you drift through the empty space. You hear a voice.

"…Oh!" "Oh ho ho, hello there!" "It seems you've come a long way from home haven't you?" "Hmm…What to do about this?" "I'm afraid I can't send you back to your own world in the shape I am right now." "…" "…Perhaps this could be just what this world needs." "But, if something were to go wrong-" "-This could very well destroy the space time continuum…" "But that probably won't happen! And anyways, it seems like there's no choice but to get outside help in this situation." "Alright now listen carefully, if you please." "You are about to be sent to a world a bit different than your own." "Don't worry it's quite similar to your own in a lot of ways, but…" "Well, I guess you will just have to see for yourself." "Before that though, why don't you get yourself reoriented a little bit?" "Why not start by…" "…Telling me a bit about yourself?"

(Here's where you choose your character. If you are playing an OC either leave a description in reblog or comments or tag the character sheet of the character you want to rp as. Same is true for an AU version of a canon character.)