#have been wanting to take a break for a while now but didn’t know when to say!

[euphoria-looney]

Thank you... for playing with me.

Pt.1

Bake No Hana (Nightcord at 25:00 ft. Kaito)

"It's finally come around, my punishment for having been born. In order to put an end to it, I stop breathing— Ah, I'm fed up with this."

I approached the girl who chose me last round, Penelope. I called her Penny though, and thought the name was cute.

It suits her.

Last round I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do, but she pulled me into her group, and even against the male group, we won!

It didn’t help that crunch that echoed across the room each time a team lost though, Astro has been colder than ever and the old guy got separated from me before I could follow him. I think it was fate that we all ended up on the same team.

I’m trying to sound positive because, at this moment in time, I have gone too far to give up now, whether that be hope or, the sick truth, for the money.

My mind is always racing and is looking for the truth that I’m hiding from myself. 

I’ve killed people intentionally or not, just to keep going for a cash prize that I’m not even sure I’ll win.

This isn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

I’ve said that line so many times.

When I was 5 and my mother ran away, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I kept getting neglected and abused in the manor, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I got kicked out at the mere age of 18, That wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

Getting into debt and sinking deeper into the amount needed to pay back, I bet you can think of the line I said next.

And now with all the corpses I’ve been near, the money dropping into the pig, the masked soldiers that looked upon you with their weapons, was this really how I was going to be free from debt? Was this the situation I wanted to be in?

“Hey!” Penny turned to look at me.

“Want to pair up?” I tilted my head at her.

“Why should I?”

“I don’t picture you going around here and begging these jerks.” I looked around at our options.

“Wouldn’t that bother you?” I raised an eyebrow to her.

“Bothering me or not isn’t the concern, winning or losing is.” Despite that, she didn’t make any plans to move away from me.

I cheered fondly at her.

“Then play with me, I’ll make sure you’ll win.”

“What will you do?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“... What do you see in me?” 

“Well, I wanted to ask you that.”

“You were someone who looked like they would come with me.”

“I feel the same way.” I raised my hand offering a handshake.

She took my hand, so warm compared to how she acted, and I tightened the grip before releasing her hand.

I’m glad we got the teams out of the way before the timer ended.

—

Third POV

“Alright, there's a five-minute break before the games start, my good sirs. Do whatever you’d like before coming back to meet up and enjoy the show, they’ll be playing marble games.” The frontman announced before everyone dispersed.

“What was that imbecile thinking, joining a game like this? She even had the option to leave and she chose to come back?!” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes out of agitation.

“They did…” Duke murmured.

“No, they didn’t.” Damian looked at Duke as if he were mad.

“Yes, they did, a while back? You were there and berated them for acting like their mother…” Duke rebutted.

“That must’ve felt so humiliating…”

Dick rubbed his arm.

“... she was probably terrified to face you again, especially with how you treated her…”

Damian piped down after that.

“You’re not any better than us, Duke. You also shunned them away,” Tim said, defending himself and the others.

“I’m not saying I’m better than anyone and this doesn’t excuse what I did but all of you guys made it known through the whole manor that she was just like her mother, so greedy for money that even when she had too much she wanted more, is that what we’re seeing in front of us though?! A girl who's so loaded but still wants more?!” That left Tim speechless and guilty.

“I know what it’s like to be financially unstable, obviously after losing my parents and trying to find them it wasn’t easy, and it didn’t make it any easier with not even a penny in my pocket, so these people “killing themselves for a little money” even though it’s a life or death situation, that’s no different then being “free” out there, especially not in Gotham. So when Bruce rescued me and treated me with kindness and support, I thought that all his kids got this treatment, but now you guys want to berate her and call her an idiot but she was forced into this position…”

He turned to Bruce but was only met with the man looking away.

“Maybe when she left this game, she realized her life wasn’t meant enough and came back to this dehumanizing environment, she didn’t come for us to help her because of the memories of last time, she probably was so nervous always walking on eggshells around us that the moment we rejected her she knew that this was her only option.”

Jason knew it wasn’t targeted specifically at him, but at one point, he knew he had a bond with [name], that innocent kid with those cute bug eyes and that gummy smile. They had something special. Then he died and came back with the news. At that moment, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by [name]’s mom. With everything that had happened to him,, he had changed his character, so with no one to blame…

Well, you are your mother’s daughter.

Doesn’t the saying go ‘like mother, like daughter?’

Also, the situation didn’t help with him constantly not talking to her, you’d have understood the feeling he got when she came to the manor after being kicked out just to beg for money?

He seriously could not blame the situation on you, did he, or did he forget that he contributed to it too?

The ignoring, the sneering, the insults, how one looks from the person she trusted the most could shatter her heart.

And of course that would be the first conversation she had with you... You didn’t talk to her.

“Well, did you guys hear what she said to that other girl, seems she has no plans-”

A knock interrupted the chat.

“I’m sorry sirs, but the games are starting. May I have your bets?”

“240”

“Wow, all of you, just in case she ever loses, would you guys like to buy her body? I assume you’re family and had an interest in that girl?”

“You!-” Damian was stopped by Bruce, who also had his hands clenched in anger.

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.” Smiled Bruce.

“Of course, and I didn’t mean you lose the bet, it’s just that the odds are against some players and good for others.” The Frontman nodded before heading off.

“Don’t worry, guys. Just hang on. I’m finding the location as fast as I can,” Oracle said through the earpiece before they left for the lounge.

Their nice, comfortable lounge.

—

If I am ready to die, why not know a little bit more about the person I’m spending my last moments with?

“You know~ since the last Joker attack nothing has been this tragic…”

“What game are we playing?” No small talk then… but that’s okay.

“Dang, you’re cold as ice.”

“What game are we playing, girl?”

“You tell me. These games are probably only known to these oldies, tell you what let’s make our own game, ten marbles we could do anything with that.

“So let’s… end this game in a single round.” I looked down at my lap.

“All or nothing. A simple bet.” I looked back at her again with my stupid smile that showed my gums and tilted my head.

It was something I was used to doing a lot as a kid.

I don’t know why I’m acting like this, maybe it’s because my misery will finally end.

That took a dark turn. Let’s get back on track.

“Don’t tell me you’d… rather do what they’re doing?” 

We looked at the old guys behind Penny, throwing their marbles that hit against each other. What was the purpose of the game?

Get the other players' marbles out before they do.

“Okay. Playing what then?” 

I huffed in amusement. 

“What’s with the hurry?” 

“You’re just dying to kill me, huh?” I teased

That was a rhetorical question, we both knew it…

At least I knew it was.

“We’ve got a lot of time on our hands, and we’re playing one round. What’s the rush?”

“What are we gonna do before then?”

“Talk” It had been a while since I’d done that with somebody in this hellhole.

“About what?” 

“Things we never told anybody about I guess.”

“One of us is gonna die, so… it doesn't matter what we tell each other. No one can really embarrass themselves anymore. Okay?”

—

“How long have you been in Gotham? It isn’t a place where one would particularly reside.” We were both sitting at the stairsteps at this point.

I started with a question.

“Just been here since I was born, my mom found the “love of her life” here. She said we’d enjoy it”

“Did you?”

“...” She didn’t reply but rather stayed silent.

“Your family, are they still here with you?”

“My brother.”

“Any parents?”

“My father died getting shot in some back alleyway, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

“And your mom?”

“She got high off of drugs when she lost my dad, she overdosed not too long ago and her family took her away from us blaming us for the reason she suffers. I don’t know if she’s still alive and recovering or dead.”

“Where’s your brother now then?”

“In a shelter,” she hesitated. I was asking more than giving, but she still replied, and that was enough for both of us.

“If you win this and get the money, what will you spend it on?”

“Buy a house for me and my brother, then take us somewhere else, Gotham is no place for us, even if the top schools are here, there’s a price to pay for everything.” She was right about that.

I scoffed a little bored of that answer.

“Hey~ with this amount of money you could buy that and so much more- is there anywhere you’d like to travel?”

“Houma.”

“Houma?”

She nodded her head.

“It looked peaceful and had lower crime rates than most places. It didn’t look like Gotham at all.”

I couldn’t help but huff at that.

“Hey. Don’t you think you should dream bigger, huh? Do Keystone City. Hold on– Go to Metropolis instead. They even have lower crime rates than most.

Penny finally turned her head around and looked at me for once out of this entire conversation.

“Metropolis?”

“Yeah, the Superfam lives there. You know the Kryptonite versions of the Batfam in Gotham?”

It seems she didn’t care much about superheroes which made me giggle.

“Really?”

She shook her head.

“Oh no, then we have you fix that, we’ll have a girl’s night out every week in Metropolis and get to meet the Superfam in the flesh, okay?” 

She looked away at that.

“Oh, guess we can’t both leave here?”

…

“Back when my father was alive he was the perfect guy, he was too generous for his good, I was too naive as a kid rushed into the room where he laid to rest before he was covered and saw his gorey body,” Penny told me.

“The first body I saw was this poor kid on the side of the street abandoned just like me, he died inhaling too much of Scarecrow’s gas.”

“Abandoned?”

“Oh! I haven’t told you my backstory, it’s not as tragic as yours, no. My mother married a billionaire and took cash before running away without me when I was five. Everybody blamed her actions on me, making me feel too shameless to ever ask for cash, then I got kicked out at eighteen and took too much debt for regular supplies and school debt then landed here.”

“I wonder if I had money, what would I do… Go to Houma with you?”

A silence ensued between us making me look away.

“Sorry, I forgot again.”

As the timer started running out the sun kept going down even lower. Penny stood up.

“Let’s do this.” I smiled at that.

—

Third POV

By now, some VIPs were disappointed not because they had lost money but because they had lost the guessing game of lives.

Others were happy with the result.

But for our main characters well, can you guess how they’re feeling?

Unnerved, whatever [name] was planning. Are they going to win this game, or will they lose? Would the Wayne family see their dear family die with a bullet to the head?

Bruce never meant to treat you like that, but you’d have to understand your mother betrayed him, and you were there… and you didn’t do anything.

Oh, what could you have done? 

Alert the whole house of her leaving? Then what?

It was never your fault, you did everything you could to appease them, they just never forgive your mother.

—

We stood up passing a dead body and went to an “empty” land.

“Whoever can roll it farther than the other person wins, okay?”

I let Penny get the head start.

I held my marble in my hand.

Pondering.

I didn’t have much to live for, did I?

I had no friends, no family, and nothing to my name other than the daughter of a gold digger or the bastard child.

What’s the point?

I I guess this game was pointless after all.

I let the marble slide off my hands landing a few inches from my foot.

Straightening my posture I feel Penelope approach me.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” She grabbed me by the collar of the tracksuit.

“You win, I lose.”

“Stop. Why the hell would you try to do that?” She still kept a firm hold on me.

“Butter fingers, what can I say?” I chuckled, scrunching my eyebrows at her.

“Making sure I won. Is that what this is?”

She slammed me into the wall again.

“Did you think I would be grateful? Throw it again.” She demanded.

“And I still wouldn’t be able to win.” I kept my smile on.

“Ugh, don’t be dramatic and let me die in style, hm?” 

This was the reality, and if one of us had something memorable to do once we had gotten out of there, it would be her. Wouldn’t it?

“[name], that’s bullshit! Stop acting cool and just do a real throw!”

I sighed no longer keeping my damn smile on my face.

“I have nothing.”

“What?” Penelope didn’t let go, though. It seemed like she would allow me to talk a bit more.

“You have a reason to get out of this place… I don’t.”

Penelope kept breathing shakily. 

“I thought hard about what I would do, over and over, nothing. It’s like a dead end.” I felt myself tearing up.

I didn’t want to burst out in tears, I hadn’t done that in a while. 

I’ve always hated getting emotional, but it feels like a relief to get it off my chest.

“If anybody has a reason to go back out still there, it’d be you.” I laughed despite tasting the salty tears that leaked from my eyes.

Penelope didn’t seem the type to get emotional either, though that didn’t stop her from letting a couple of tears flow.

“Don’t die here, go out there… and find a place where you and your brother can reside. Far from any crime preferably to Houma.” I chuckled.

…

As Penelope walked away, I didn’t want that to be how our interaction ended, no, not like this pathetic goodbye.

“Penny!” I wasn’t sure she’d respond to that nickname but to my surprise, she stopped.

It made me widen my eyes briefly before going into a somber expression.

I held in my tears at that moment, stabilizing my voice.

“Thank you… for playing with me.” I was glad the guard let me have my closure, you don’t think they’d have the heart with their roles.

BANG

Player 240, eliminated.

—

The blood sprayed out before her body collapsed onto the ground with a sickening thud.

This wasn’t the situation anybody wanted to be in.

— 

That’s it for now. In the next part of this option, the Batfamily will suffer and have flashbacks, as one does. If anyone has any advice on how to write some scenes, that would be spectacular.

I’ll be working on a request and then my So Much More series before getting to Astro! And then maybe the next part of this, so don’t expect it anytime soon. That’s all from me!

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell any wrong and tag the wrong person.

[alotofpockets]

Stretching the truth | Laia Codina x Physio!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "You haven't kissed me all day."

A/n: thank you @valkyrie-00 @totaly-obsessed and @catasha from the woso writers server for your ideas on this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.7k

-----

After not having to wake up early during winter break, your 7am alarm was rough. You turned it off and before you were even able to get out from under the covers, your girlfriend wrapped her arm around your body and pulled you closer. “Don’t go.” She said still half asleep.

You had spent the winter break in Spain with Laia’s family. She had been missing her family, so it was a no-brainer to go. Your family was out here, and who were you to say no to the nice and warm Spanish weather?

In Spain you had spent almost every single day of your trip with Laia by your side, so you weren’t surprised that she was now clinging onto you. “Back to work today, love. I have to go in early to set everything up.”

“Five more minutes?” Her sleepy voice begged. “Alright, five minutes, but not a minute more.” You knew that if you wouldn’t stop it at five, Laia would be able to keep you there for an hour if she wanted to.

After cuddling for a while longer, you told her you really had to go. You placed a soft kiss onto her lips, “I’ll see you soon.” 

The first day back for you meant starting off with a few meetings, and setting up your physio room. A few of the girls would come in to get assessed before training, while the other physios had appointments with the other girls. 

On your schedule were Vic, Lia, Laura, and Lina. The girls had been either injured or just coming back from their injuries. You had been working with them before the break as well, and wanted to make sure that the work they put in over break did their bodies well.

Vic came in for her assessment first, you chatted a bit while you checked off all the boxes, and declared her ready to start training with the team. She had been working hard towards her comeback, and you were happy to see the progress she had been able to make already. It wouldn’t be long now before she would be playing again, you knew it and knew it made her incredibly happy.

The next person that came into your office was Lina, she came to you with some struggles. She let you know that her calf wasn’t feeling great, so you checked it out. After assessing her calf and the rest of your checklist, you recommended her to come in after her gym session.

The next person you expected to walk in was Lia, but instead it was Laia who walked through the door. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Emma today.”

Laia closed the door behind her and sat down on your physio table. “I was, but she wanted me to see you instead.” You furrowed your brows, “Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just my ankle is bothering me a bit.” She said while putting her leg up. “Your ankle?” Her injury confused you, because she hadn’t mentioned anything during the break. 

“Yeah, my left ankle. I think I hurt it when I got out of the car, just a misstep.” You looked between her face and then the foot she put up. “Your left ankle is hurting, but you put up your right?”

Her eyes widened and it takes every ounce of power in you to stay professional and not start laughing. “Left? Did I say left? No no, I meant right. It- it’s the language barrier, I switched them up, accidentally.” 

With a shake of your head and a light chuckle, you say, “Alright, let’s take a look at your right ankle.” As you had expected, there wasn’t much you could find, just Laia dramatically flinching as if it was hurting. It was a good thing she didn’t go into acting, because it took everything in you to not just burst out laughing.

“It doesn’t look like much.” You said when you were done assessing her ankle. “But, let’s keep an eye on it. You’re all set to head to the gym.”

Laia jumps down from the bed like there was no problem with her ankle, confirming for you that it was nothing. “Thank you.” She says and steps closer to you, the twinkle in her eyes makes you take a step back instantly. “We’re at work.”

Your girlfriend’s shoulders slump down. “You’re right, I’ll see you later.” You don’t have time to feel bad, as the next player enters the room.

The morning was filled all the way until lunch break, which you spend in the dining hall with the rest of the staff and players. After break it was right back to work, some taping before you would spend some time with Vic on the pitch.

The only person that was scheduled to come in was Lina, but once again it was Laia who entered. “Oh hi. Is everything okay?” She nods, “Yeah, just a tight muscle in my calf and I wondered if you could help.”

You looked at your watch, about ten minutes before Lina would come in, so you told her to lay down. As Laia laid down on the physio table, you grabbed some massage oil and began working on her calf. You couldn’t deny how toned her muscles were, even if this was supposed to be professional. No wonder they made sure that Laia was usually seeing one of your coworkers and not you.

“Is this where it was feeling tight?” You asked, applying a little more pressure to a specific spot. “Mhm, yeah, right there.” She responded with a little too much satisfaction. Her tone made you chuckle. “What? You’re good at this.”

You rolled your eyes but kept working, your fingers kneading into her calf. "Feels more like you're enjoying this than actually needing help."

Laia turned around on the table and put her leg up, like you asked her to do. “You’re the best at giving massages, of course I would come to see you.”

You shook your head with a smile. “Hm sure, and the ankle this morning? Totally legitimate too?”

With the most horribly performance of an innocent face, Laia said “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Just as you were finishing up, Laia stretched her arms above her head, causing her shirt to ride up slightly, exposing her toned stomach slightly. You stopped talking mid-sentence, much to Laia’s delight. “Oh, was that distracting? Sorry.” She said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes jokingly, “You’re impossible.”

Before Laia could make a comeback, a knock on the door interrupted. It was Lina poking her head around the door, “Am I early?”

You looked at your watch quickly, “Right on time. Laia was just leaving.” She reluctantly hopped off the table. Giving you one last daring look, before closing the door behind her.

The team knew you and Laia were together, and you had become good friends with most of them because the two of you were dating, so it wasn’t weird when Lina raised her eyebrows at what just happened. “Something going on there?” She said with a knowing smile. “Just a very needy patient.” You joked back, before you told her to sit down, so you could tape her calf.

When you were done with taping, you headed into your office for a quick coffee break and filling out some papers for the work you had done today, before you would head out to the pitch with Vic.

“Hello!” A familiar voice said from your office door. You sighed and rolled your eyes lightly, while a smile tugged at your lips. “Laia, what is it this time?”

She stepped into your office and closed the door behind her with an innocent smile on her face. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Sleeping? Why are you coming to me for that and not Emma?”

Laia sat down on the chair across from you, her face plastered with a serious look. “Well, it’s about positions.” Her wording catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heating up, “What?”

“You know,” she continued, “positions. I can’t seem to find the right one… to sleep comfortably.”

“Okay, that’s enough. What is with you today?” You lean back into your chair and move your hands through your hair. 

"You haven't kissed me all day." Laia said with a pout. And then every single unnecessary visit started to make sense. “Oh Laia, really? You’ve been hogging my patient time because you wanted a kiss?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, though the mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Can you blame me? We went from spending every minute together to barely seeing each other all day. I had to be creative.”

You had to give her credit, she had been creative. “You know there’s a time and place for that, right? Here? Not the place.” You chuckled.

Her pout deepened as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on your desk. “But you love me, so you’ll forgive me, right?”

You sighed dramatically, though the grin tugging at your lips gave you away. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist,” she said back instantly. Oh she was good, you thought while shaking your head. 

“Fine. One kiss. But only so I can actually do my job for the rest of the day.” You gave in. Laia’s face lit up and she was on her feet instantly. “Deal!”

She walked to the other side of your desk and waited for you to stand up to wrap her arms around your waist and give you a loving kiss. Laia was trying to deepen the kiss, so you reluctantly stepped back. “Not the place.” You warned.

Laia pulled away with a smirk. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Out. Go train or do something productive. I’ve got actual work to do.” Your girlfriend grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Alright. I’ll behave.” She walked towards the door, before she closed it behind her she looked back and added “For now.”

You were left in the room shaking your head in amusement. She was really something. But you loved her dearly and could not wait to get home.

-----

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[kirbmey]

une lecture d'été — dad’sassistant!zayne

synopsis: where zayne is your dads assistant for the summer while you stay at your vacay home back in france; on an especially hot day you ask him to read for you on the pool ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

tw: suggestive (what did u expect from me atp), heavily based on call me by your name, zayne’s around 30 and reader is 20, 80’s setting, he’s a bit of a tease, etc.

june 10th, woke up at 6 am to catch a ride towards your family summer house in crema, a quiet countryside town in france.

it was nothing new since you used to go every summer and every winter with your parents, to have a break from the busy city back at home.

but this time it felt different, more exciting. your father, a very well known history and archeology professor, was having his internship assistant over to show him the ancient ruins that decorated the nearby beaches your family loved to visit on the heatwaves.

who would this man be, old or young? with saddening or cheerful features? long or short hair? tall? fit? well spoken? you couldn’t stop daydreaming about how he’d look.

the name ‘zayne’ became part of your father’s vocabulary some months ago, praising his ideas and hard work at almost every dinner.

you heard so much about him you felt like you actually knew him already, knowing that he wore shirts most days to the lectures (way too open for your father’s liking), that there was always a watch surrounding his wrist. you even knew when he cut or trimmed his hair, your dad paying attention to every detail and loving a little bit of gossip.

once you three arrived to the white old looking villa you skipped happily towards the tall entryway, excited to finally breathe in the scent of the sea and feel the humidity stick to your skin and hair.

what you didn’t expect when your housemaid opened the door was to see a young and tall gentleman sitting in the lobby, reading a national geographic magazine trough a pair of black framed glasses.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“jesus, zayne, how unexpected to see you here already!” your father laughed loudly as he approached him, noticing on how said assistant wanted to shake hands, the older man going for a tight hug instead.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“sorry if this was too sudden, I’ve been really excited about coming here. the housemaid even showed me the library you’ve got, it’s amazing.” he said apologetically, corresponding the hug and flashing a wide smile, taking in the way his canines where shaped.

you just stood there pretending you were waiting for your mother who was catching up with the housemaid, watching both masculine figures slowly walk away while talking about some book you couldn’t bear much about.

later at night you decided to make your first move, going down the noisy wooden stairs with excitement to show off your summer dress, waking through the long hallways decorated with swinging lacy white curtains.

there was only him sitting on the patio table, reading again, a book with a deep blue cover this time. the title could read “mythos”, a volume of myths your dad used to read you so you could sleep at night when you were too afraid of the dark.

you chose to sit down next to him, gaining his attention and a little smile momentarily before he went back to his reading. you stretched to grab a piece of homemade bread from the table as you spoke in a shy voice.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“y’know, my dad used to read that book to me when i was younger.” now he paid full attention to you, staring at your cherry cola eyes and putting the tome down.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“aren’t you young still?” he teased smirking, noticing how your cheeks heated at the comment. he lowly chuckled, sipping his wine before speaking again.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“sorry, haven’t introduced myself yet, i’m zayne, your dads—”, “assistant, i know, you’re the only person he’s been talking about lately.” you accidentally interrupt him; he didn’t mind if it meant he could listen to you honey-like voice a little bit more.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“uh, is that so?” he sifted his position on the chair, turning to look at you directly while crossing one leg over the other, doing the same thing with his arms. his biceps noticeable under the white fabric of his shirt.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“yup, i know so much about you already.” you said without thinking too much. wasn’t it weird to say such a thing to a man you just met?

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“well, i hope i can get to know many things about you as well.” he lightly responded, drifting his gaze to the opposite sight when he saw you parents approaching the lame table.

dinner was easier to get through than you expected, the chicken moira, the housemaid, cooked too delicious to bother on speaking or participating in conversations.

it wasn’t too late yet, but you were already feeling sleepy, so you excused yourself and took slow steps to your bedroom, gaining a ‘good night’ from everyone, even zayne.

he was all you could think about when you laid down on the spring mattress, rolling around as you made stupid scenarios in your head about how good and warm and tight a hug from him would feel, about how soft his dark locks had to be, about how big and nice and strong his hands were…

needless to say, you didn’t sleep much that night, finally drifting away imagining the pillow you were hugging was the assistant’s chest.

june 11th, woke up at 8 am sweating horribly. you easily felt hot, and it was no help when humidity was the thing that predominated in that side of the country.

so you stood up, washed your face and teeth and dressed with a simple white bikini to hit the swimming pool after having breakfast; zayne wasn’t at the table that morning and you couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

after a few minutes you ran towards the pool thrilled, getting some reprimands from your parents to which you made def ears.

you jumped inside, got refreshed and let the water wake up your senses before noticing a figure reclining in one of the lounge chairs once your head was out.

it was the man you missed so much earlier, naked chest, unbuttoned deep blue shirt and a pair of bermuda shorts decorating his beautiful body, accompanied by black sunglasses and, of course, yesterday’s book.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“careful, lady, you don’t want to ruin the pages of your dad’s book now, do you?” he said while he sat down on the edge of said lounge chair, taking off his glasses to look at the heavely imagine in front of him; you, all wet.

believe it or not, he couldn’t stop thinking about you last night, either. something about you vainilla perfume and your adorable voice got stuck in his head.

and yeah, he also made stupid scenarios about you. wanted to know what was your favorite chapter from the tome you father gave him, to ask what you were studying; and wanted to know your name that you didn’t share the night prior.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“sorry, didn’t notice you there…” you mumbled, approaching the pool’s trim to look up to him from underneath, laying your head on top of your arms. were you teasing him, perhaps?

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“that’s okay, don’t worry.” he simply said. a few minutes of an uncomfortable silence, you stared at the tile floor while he stared at you, talking a little bit softer this time. “did you sleep well?”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“actually? no. been rolling around my bed all night.” you mutter while tracing the trim’s pattern with a finger. he just hums not really knowing how to respond and there’s another awkward silence that you happen to break this time.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“could you read f’me, zaynie, please?” maybe his tender voice reading one of the already known chapters would help you sleep tonight; you weren’t shy to ask ‘cause you noticed his gaze on you the whole time.

he simply nodded, not wanting to ruin the intimate moment you both managed to build so quickly, pulling the lounge chair closer to the edge were you rested so he could shield your delicate skin from the burning sun.

you tried your best to not fall asleep, his american accent and the way he rolled the r’s a relaxing sound that calmed your brain.

both of you shared your thoughts on the different chapters, telling him stories from your childhood when he reached a page your dad used to exaggerate his voice to, the assistant feeling like he knew you now a little bit better.

zayne found himself on the obligation to finish up the reading season when he noticed the sun going down and your eyes slowly closing, reaching a hand to caress your cheek with a thumb to make you look up to him.

and so you did, pushing in the comforting touch of his palm and getting out of the now kinda cold water with his help, thanking him as you felt a big towel surrounding your smaller frame.

he wouldn’t admit he maybe stared at your eyes locking with his from above for way too long, or the way your breast’s pressed against the tile wall from the pool and took you to dinner. here you were again.

sat down together again, ate leftover chicken again, but you didn’t remain quiet this time, joining the conversation to share thoughts with the three other people at the table.

zayne scooted closer to you little by little, brushed his leg with yours and even dared to rub your knee under the table, hiding from your parents lurking eyes; they knew something was going on but didn’t really worried about it. they liked him for you.

summer passed away too fast for your preference, getting caught up in the nights you sneaked into zayne’s bedroom and shared not-so-innocent kisses from time to time, listening to him read while you painted your nails or brushed your hair, going along the expeditions your dad took him to so you could walk with him by the shore.

now, you were always glued to the landline talking to him while you impatiently waited for winter to share your days with him again when you weren’t visiting him at college, getting scolded by your father every time he saw you there.

a/n: i wrote this with someone else in mind, but decided to change to zayne last minute ( ;´ - `;)

— masterlist.

[citrusbarking]

THE FULL STORY IN ONE PART VERSON :3

Country son who was basically raised by his farmer dad alone, his ma died during labour so he has always been his dad’s special lil bud, never more then fatherly tho. But cause of this be raised his kid to be underlyingly emotionally spoiled by his dad and unable to share him, so when his dad hired a young handsome farmhand and was all close with him. It.made.him.sick.

it was only made worse by the fact the farm hand was obviously sweet on his pops…giving him those eyes, always following him around like a pup, drinking out of the same flask as him and savouring the taste….it was driving him mad, especially when he saw the way his old man seemed to notice and not call him out.

One day the boys tolerance hit the fan after finding his dad and the farmhand wearing his fathers prized Stetson hat…getting cozy in the barn, his dad watching him bent over the tractors engine, standing right behind him while whispering in his ear and pointing to parts…the son could tell that the farm boy wasn’t fixing shit. So….he “accidentally” put something in the lemonade he made them, only in the farmhands ofc, he could never disrespect his pa like that <3

So when the farmhand eventually collapsed the Dad assumes the poor kid just got heatstroke and drove him home. So once he arrives back at this farm already feeling upset and not in the mood for bullshit he notices his son…the boy in the his Dads prized Stetson hat looking cold and upset he sighed.

“aight boy, you know damn well you ain’t supposed to be wearin that. What’s gotten into yer? Yer inside for heavens sake. Have some respect-“ he began lecture, the man’s bushy brows furrowed only to be cut off by his sons whine.

“why don’t you ever treat me like that huh? All sweet and lovin…” he began, taking the hat off and holding it close “im your son..not him…stop lovin on him like that! You don’t need his help you got me old man!” He began to ramble, glaring and hugging the hat but his Father grunted and cut him off.

“boy..listen that’s a different kind of lovin….its been so long since your ma passed and well…the farmhands sweet on me kid…he is givin me a kinda loving I ain’t have since your ma passed…im lovin on him like a lover.”he softly said getting on his level on the couch….

“And why can’t you give that lovin to me?!” The son snapped, his voice almost pleading now. “Why is it only meant for your lover?! I-I could do better than him!! Plus-plus I’m more like ma then he is!” He was cut off-

”boy. No.” His father demanded, once again getting cut off, the tension rising

The almost growl in his pops voice made the son flinch , but he continued to hold his stance. “Why not? Why is the only person who’s allowed to get that type of affection from you your lover? What’s so wrong with me getting that too?”

and like that…the fathers patience just…snapped

“Yea? Yea you want me to give you a lovers affection?” The older, bigger man near growled….yanking the hat from his son’s hands and shoving it onto his head….

“you asked for this.”

His father doesn’t say a word to the boy as he suddenly yanks the the sons legs up and throws him over his shoulder, not even giving him the privilege of at least walking in instead of being carried. He didn’t know what the hell had gotten into the damned kid but he was set on scaring the boy into line.

“You want me to love on ya kid? Your so fuckin instant on your fathers lovin touch eh?” The father growled, his thick arm, strong with years of working and breaking in much bigger things than his son, easily holding the boys legs in place.

The man continued down the hall to his modest bedroom and threw the now flustered and nerves racked boy down on the bed. “Y-yea! Yea damn right I do! Don’t you want your son to be happ—“ the sons usual manipulative spiral was cut off by his fathers tough hand over his mouth.

“shuttup. Your getten what you fucken begged for boy. You wanna be my lover so damned bad so getting treated like it. And I don’t take back chat from my own damned heifers” his father growled while his hand tightened, his southern accent thickening with a cocktail deep rage something else. The boys eyes where wide and taken aback, his father was a firm but big oaf with him normally, gentle while spoiling him with so much attention…it was complete whiplash but he wasn’t one to back down.

his father could easily recognise it in the boys hardheaded determination in the boys eyes. “Stubborn, just like your old man. Heh” he sighed with a slightly exasperated chuckled, he leaned closer and growled into the boys ear “so damned set in getting what you want eh boy? Dont you get what’s gonna happen to your boy..” he grunted, easily lifting and twisting the boy around on the bed so he is laying on his tummy..

“I’m gonna breed ya in the damned bed you were made in kiddo…if your so determined that you’d be a good lover cause your more like your ma” he pushed his head into the pillows, a panicked little noise coming from the younger boy “then maybe I should fuck you the same way I did the night I knocked her up yea? on the same damned mattress. In the same position… breed you with the same seed your made out of…” his voice reverberated in the boys ear, his final statement punctuated with the sound of his belt unbuckling…

In one swift movement he yanked the boy to the edge of the bed, a deep fearful whirlwind starting in boys gut made him second guess himself about this, he just wanted to alll his dads love and attention like he always had but..this..this felt to far…His heart was racing, knowing that this was crossing a line he should never have approached but before he could calmly tap out he felt his pants and briefs hit the floor.

“wait-wait dad-I’m sorry- never mind I’m sorry!-“ he began to beg and kick a little only to be cut off by his face being pushed into the pillows from behind. The soild feeling of the front of his fathers thighs pressed against the back of his was gut churning, he hit the mattress and tried to get free but he was completely trapped as his father thick arm wrapped around his torso and raised his legs as his back was in a perfect little arch. The father whistled “jeez boy….maybe I should be thanken ya kiddo…been a long time since iv seen a sight like this…lets see just how much you’ve taken after your ma.” He muttered, freeing his arm to thumb open the shamefully wet slit between his sons shaking thighs, his kids muffled protests and panicked tap outs got more frantic..with a harsh open palmed slap to the boys soft butt he reminded him “oi. Remember….you asked for this.” He gruffed in his fatherly tone, sliding two thick fingers inside his little boy.

He slowly started pumping them, the plush gummy walls of his own kid clenching and begging for more as the boy cried for less…. “Atta boy! See? Look at ya….fuck…breakin in just as easy as your ma did…” he praised and let go of the boys hair..

Pleasure started to slowly build in his stomach. It felt so good, but the knowledge of what he was doing to his own father was making him feel guilty, which only made the pleasure burn even more.

“Is this..is this how you acted with m-mama?” The boy whimpered through blubbering lips…his tummy twisting the fingers where suddenly removed, a void he wanted stuffed. “D-dad?” He whimpered before, in one sudden harsh stroke his dad buried himself balls deep into his little boy, the stretch made him cry out in pained surprise.

his pace was harsh and rymathic “I don’t want you whining about me loving on the farm boy again after this or next time you’re on your knees in front HIM. Got it?” he growled through moan strained pants, sliding nearly the full way out then plunging all the way back, his head kiss his own sons cervix at a unforgiving pace. Hitting all the right spots in the slick tight walls. Soon he became undone was deep moans and gunts.

all the ruined kid could manage was a string of “ah-ah-ah” and singing the word dad over and over between sobs, his thighs shaking and clenching, he could feel where his dads cock hit every time. The boys noises started to run together as the pleasure started to burn hotter and hotter in his stomach. He gripped onto the sheets and anything else he could grab tighter, his breathing getting quicker and louder as suddenly he spasmed around his dads thick cock. Screaming his dad’s name through it, sobbing. The sudden tightness and sight of his own boys cummies just….completely blanked his mind as he made a final swift plunge into the boys cervix, his seed filling him…it had been years since he came…it over flowed the boys beaten womb…..

after a couple seconds of hazy glory the older man sighed slowly pulled out of his shaken and broken in boy “shh..shhh easy now..atta boy…” he whispered gently turning him onto his back “deep breaths….g-god dammit..” he groaned seeing the pleasure drunk look on his boys face “Your not..meant to want this..this was meant to be a reality check bud…not..feed into your perversion” he whispered almost shamefully, it was no use though…his dad came inside……now he wound have his dad all to himself..forever <3

[ariahmichelle]

Phoning It In- Drew Starkey x actress/reader

You sat in the brightly lit Elle magazine studio, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you reached into the bowl of folded slips of paper.

The Phoning It In segment was straightforward—draw a prank scenario, call one of your friends, and see how they react. You’d already done two ridiculous pranks, but when you unfolded your third prompt, your excitement kicked up a notch.

The slip read: “Say you’ve been asked to go on Love Is Blind and want to put your acting career on hold for it.”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” you said, laughing to the camera. “I’m calling Drew Starkey for this one. He’s going to lose his mind.”

Fans loved speculating about you and Drew. Your friendship had been under scrutiny for months, with fans pointing out how close you were off-screen. You’d both laughed it off in interviews, but recently, your feelings for Drew had started to shift. You’d been noticing his laugh a little more, catching yourself smiling at his texts for longer than usual. So this prank? It was the perfect opportunity to see how he’d react.

You dialed his number, nerves bubbling in your chest. After a few rings, Drew picked up.

“Hey, you,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “What’s up?

“Hey, Drew. Um… I need to talk to you about something,” you said, trying to sound hesitant.

“Oh no. This sounds serious. Did you finally get banned from craft services?”

“Drew, I’m being serious,” you said, injecting some urgency into your voice, while trying to contain your laughter.

“I just… I’ve been offered this opportunity, and I wanted to get your opinion”

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “What kind of opportunity?”

You took a deep breath, setting the stage. “I’ve been asked to go on Love Is Blind.”

There was a beat of silence before Drew burst out laughing. “Wait, wait, wait. Love Is Blind? You? Oh, this is rich. Are they doing a celebrity edition or something?”

“No, it’s the regular one,” you said, feigning seriousness. “They reached out to me, and I think it’s a sign. I mean, I’ve been so focused on my career—maybe it’s time I try something new, you know? Like, find my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate? Through a pod?!” Drew was cackling now, but when you didn’t laugh along, he hesitated. “Wait… are you serious?”

“Yes, Drew!” you said, trying to sound exasperated. “I think this could be really good for me. But it means I’d have to take a break from Outer Banks for a while.”

“No. Nope. Absolutely not,” Drew said firmly, his tone more serious now. “You can’t leave Outer Banks. Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?” you asked, pretending to sound defensive.

“Because, for one, you’re too talented to leave all of this behind for some reality show. And two…” He paused, his voice softening. “The show would be awful without you. Like, genuinely terrible. And if you’re gone, who’s going to keep me sane on set?”

“I’m sure you’d manage,” you said, fighting to keep a straight face.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Drew said, his voice growing more animated. “Okay, you know what? If it comes down to this, I’ll just marry you myself. Problem solved. No pods, no weird dates, and Outer Banks keeps you. Win-win.”

Your breath caught at his words. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Drew said, laughing but also sounding genuine. “If that’s what it takes to keep you from leaving, I’ll do it. You’re not leaving, alright? End of discussion.”

For a moment you have to mute yourself to let out a laugh while Drew continues to rant but then there’s a second of silence on the end of the line and the tone of his voice shifted slightly, quieter now. “I mean… I don’t want you to leave. I don’t think I could do this without you. Not just the show, but… everything.”

Your heart raced as Drew trailed off, his words heavy with something unspoken. You weren’t sure what’s happening but you definitely didnt want it caught on camera so you quickly unmute yourself and let out an exaggerated laugh, cutting through the tension. “Drew, oh my God! It’s a prank!”

“What?” he asked, clearly thrown off.

“I’m filming a segment for Elle,” you explained, laughing as you tried to compose yourself. “I had to prank-call someone, and you were the perfect target.”

“Are you kidding me?” Drew groaned, though you could hear him laughing on the other end. “You’re unbelievable. I just fake-proposed to you. You realize that, right?”

“Oh, I realize,” you teased. “And I’m definitely not letting you live it down.”

You’re evil,” Drew said, laughing along with you, though you could hear the tension still lingering beneath his words. “You seriously had me going. I was about to start drafting a petition to keep you on Outer Banks.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, your voice light. “But thanks for the marriage proposal. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to quit acting for real.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone playful again. “Remind me to prank you back when you least expect it.”

When the call ended, you turned to the camera with a big smile. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you successfully prank Drew Starkey. Bonus points for the fake marriage proposal.”

Later that evening, as you were heading home, your phone buzzed with a text from Drew.

Alright, you got me good. But seriously, don’t scare me like that again. I’d miss you too much. 😅 Also, come over later? I wanna talk about something.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the message. Whatever Drew wanted to talk about, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about the prank.

——————————

Let me know what u think? Requests are also open, check who I write for before requesting! 💗

[willowsnook]

sweet sister (18+)

You can make one with Lance x Ocon reader. She is Esteban's sister but she never participated much in the races and which she was Lance didn't pay much attention to her. But now he is newly single is invited to Esteban's birthday and finds her and ends up rolling a mood. Then they have a relationship hidden from the media and families but being discovered later, some interaction of Lance and Esteban being brothers-in-law!!

Lance stroll x ocon!sister

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

“Happy birthday, Estie,” you cheered as you found your brother talking with Flavy in his kitchen, with a drink in his hand. 

“Thanks sis,” Esteban replied warmly. He was hosting a small party at his Swiss apartment to celebrate and you were happy to finally get time off of work to make the trip this weekend. You had thrown on a casual fit with an oversized cardigan in your favorite shade of blue and were ready to let off a little steam. 

“Come on Flavy,” you said, pulling your brother’s girlfriend away to the outdoor patio area. She giggled as you dragged her, and the cool air had you clutching your outer layer when you finally made it. 

“So what’s new?” She asked, sinking down on one of the outdoor couches, resting her feet on the patio table. You joined her, not letting go of your glass of wine. 

“Not a lot. Work is boring, but there is a chance that I’ll get to start being remote,” you said excitedly. You were a data analyst and while you enjoyed being in the office, you wanted to live the nomad traveling life while you were young. So being able to be remote would be perfect. 

“Wait does that mean you’ll come to more races,” she asked, her eyes wide. She squealed as you nodded. “Thank god, I’ve been so bored.”

“You hang out with Kika, though right?” You asked.

“Yeah, but she’s been hanging around with Alex more which is fine, but then I get lonely. And now that Lance and Marilou broke up, there really isn’t anyone else I’m friends with.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that,” you said. “A couple of months ago right?” 

“Yeah,” she said giving you a teasing look. “Trying to swoop in?” 

“Esteban would kill me,” you muttered with a small laugh. 

You didn’t even know Lance that well, but something about him intrigued you. By the time him and Esteban had gotten close you were already in college so you weren’t even 100% sure if he remembered who you were. 

“He’s nice,” Flavy said thoughtfully. “I think he gets a bad rep because of who he is but he’s always been a sweetheart to me.” 

“Didn’t he cheat on Marilou, though,” you asked, thinking back to the gossip account’s post you had seen. 

“I don’t think so,” she answered. “To my knowledge, they had been broken up a while before the media knew so the girl they referenced was post-break.” 

“Ahh,” you said. Turning your head to look back inside you saw the man himself, talking to your brother and some others in the living room. Dressed in all black he managed to look casual but still put together. 

As you watched Lance through the glass doors, he suddenly looked up and caught your gaze. For a moment, your eyes locked, and you felt a flutter in your stomach. You quickly looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Ooh, someone's blushing," Flavy teased, nudging you with her elbow.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a large sip of your wine.

Just then, the sliding door opened, and Esteban stepped out onto the patio. "Hey, stop hiding out here and come join the party.” 

You and Flavy exchanged a glance before standing up. As you followed your brother back inside, you couldn't help but steal another look at Lance. To your surprise, he was still watching you, a small smile playing on his lips.

Throughout the evening, you found yourself gravitating towards Lance. You chatted with some of Esteban’s old friends and eventually found yourself beside him. 

“It’s been a while,” he said, breaking the ice between you. His eyes lingered on your body before he brought them back up to your eyes, a small smirk on his face. 

“It has,” you agreed, trying to act casual. “Tough season so far?”

“Already busting my balls?” He snorted, leaning back against the wall. 

“Someone has to,” you teased. As nervous as you were to talk to him, it all seemed to melt away now that you finally were. “You aren’t in the bottom five of the grid though, so I guess that’s a good sign.”

“Only a matter of time,” he mumbled, and you caught a flash of dejection on his face that he tried to brush off. 

“The car or you?” You asked gently. Having been around your brother’s racing career, you knew that was usually what it boiled down to. 

“A little bit of both,” he admitted. “The car isn’t great which is resulting in me not being confident which makes for easy mistakes.” 

You nodded sympathetically. "That must be frustrating. I'm sure you'll find your groove again soon, though."

Lance gave you a small smile, his eyes softening. "Thanks. It's nice to talk to someone who gets it."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "Well, I've been around racing my whole life. It's hard not to pick up on a few things."

"Thanks, that means a lot. You know, I always wondered why we never really got to know each other before."

"Probably because I was always busy with school when you and Esteban started hanging out," you replied, suddenly very aware of how close you were. “I’m surprised you recognized me.” 

"Well, I'm glad I did," Lance said, his voice lowering slightly as he leaned in closer.

Your breath caught in your throat at his proximity. You could smell his cologne, a subtle but intoxicating woodsy scent. You were too caught up in his intense stare to see your brother coming towards you.

“Hey guys,” he said, shooting Lance a warning look. You instantly stood back and blushed, looking anywhere but the man before you. “Flavy and I are hungry, you in for late-night dinner?”

Looking around, you realized that everyone had filtered out. Lance agreed to food and you found yourself nodding along as well. The four of you called a ride to a nearby restaurant that Lance had called, asking them to stay open. Esteban sat in the front with the rest of you in the back; you being in the middle meant you were pushed alongside Lance, making you flush. 

Pulling up to the spot, he got out and held his hand out for you to help. His big hand enveloped yours and he held on for an extra couple of seconds before you shot him a curious look. 

Late night dinner was a great move, and conversation flowed as the four of you enjoyed being the only ones there. You had missed your brother a lot. A couple of hours later you were dead and watched as Esteban and Flavy got into a car back to his place. You were staying in a hotel, so Lance insisted on waiting for your car with you, to make sure you were safe. 

“Are we going to go another few years without seeing each other?” He asked and you smiled. 

“I hope not,” you said. “I’m going to try to be in Austin.” 

“That would be good, I can get you an Aston garage pass,” he said. 

“Not sure how Esteban would feel about that,” you teased. 

Lance chuckled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "What Esteban doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

You bit your lip, considering his offer. "I suppose one little garage tour wouldn't hurt..."

"Exactly," Lance said, taking a step closer to you. The streetlight cast a warm glow on his face, accentuating his strong jawline. "And maybe we could grab dinner after the race?"

Your heart raced at the suggestion. "Lance Stroll, are you asking me out on a date?"

He grinned, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I am. What do you say?"

Before you could answer, your ride pulled up to the curb. Lance opened the car door for you, ever the gentleman.

"I'll think about it," you said with a coy smile as you slid into the backseat. 

As the car pulled away, you couldn't help but look back at Lance, who was still standing there, watching you go. You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness about what might happen next.

—---------austin gp—--------------------

This was your first time in Austin and you loved the southern culture. You insisted on buying three different pairs of cowboy boots when you came. You knew people didn’t really dress like this all the time here, but it was fun. 

It was warm on race day so you chose a lighter-weight dress paired with the favorite boots you had bought. Flavy matched you in a cream dress and you both fit right in with everyone else in the paddock. Lance was talking to Esteban after the drivers parade and you blushed under his gaze; he clearly was a fan. Esteban was too infatuated with Flavy to notice. 

“Embracing the cowgirl lifestyle,” Lance teased as you reached him. You did a little twirl for him, smiling widely. 

“Yeah, do you like it?” You asked innocently, already knowing the answer. 

“A lot,” he said simply. 

One of the Aston Martin media girls was nearby, holding a cowboy hat that seemed ot be for Lance. You reached out your hand and she gave it to you so that you could place it on his head. 

“There,” you said, breathless from the lack of distance. “Now we match.” 

Lance's eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hand coming up to adjust the hat. "I like matching with you," he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but Esteban called out to you before you could respond. "Hey sis, come here for a sec!"

Reluctantly, you stepped away from Lance, shooting him an apologetic smile. You could feel Lance's eyes following you as you walked towards your brother.

The race was intense, and neither your brother or Lance put on much of an impressive performance. Lance texted you when he had his phone again, asking to meet up for dinner in a bit, which you agreed to. 

“Are you coming out with us?” Esteban asked, and you faked a yawn, looking at him apologetically. 

“I’m honestly beat; I’ll probably just get room service and call it a night,” you lied. He nodded in understanding before hugging you goodbye and leaving with Flavy. You felt terrible lying to your brother but you wanted to enjoy whatever was going on between you and Lance just the two of you for now. 

You changed into comfier clothes and took off your makeup right as Lance knocked on your door. 

“Still want just to do room service?” He asked. You nodded, waving him in. 

“Yeah, I honestly am tired,” you said. 

“Good, me too,” he agreed. You let your eyes drop to his shirt that was tightly clung to his torso before meeting his smirking gaze. 

You rolled your eyes, moving to look at the menu. He leaned back on your bed, resting his head on the headboard while watching you with amusement. 

“There’s too many choices,” you muttered, unable to decide between chicken tenders and a burger. 

“What are you between?” He asked. 

“Chicken or a burger.”

“Just get both and we’ll split it,” he said and you nodded, calling in the order. Once you had the food, you sat a respectable distance away from him on the bed, letting him talk you through what the race was like for him. 

“Sorry for boring you,” he said sheepishly and you smiled. 

“I’m not bored, I like seeing you get lost like that,” you said. “If only those gossip accounts knew that you actually liked racing.” 

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t know where they come up with that stuff. Didn’t peg you as a gossip follower.” 

“It’s amusing,” you said, shrugging. 

As the night wore on, you found yourself inching closer to Lance on the bed. The conversation flowed easily between you, covering everything from childhood memories to your current aspirations. You were surprised at how comfortable you felt with him.

"You know," Lance said, his voice soft, "I've really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me too," you admitted, meeting his gaze. 

“I should probably get going,” he said, and you felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. 

“Yeah, it’s late,” you said, sliding off the bed to walk him to the door. 

“Esteban said you were remote now, does that mean I’ll see you next week?” He asked, one hand on the handle.

“If you’re lucky,” you teased and he smiled before pressing his lips against your forehead. 

“I’ll see ya,” he said and you were glad he had already turned so that he couldn’t see the red on your face. 

—----------Mexico GP—------------------

Lance was having a good race, slated to get some much-needed points but a last-minute push by Pierre crushed his hopes. He was frustrated coming out of the car, snapping at his engineer before retreating to his driver's room. He rarely lost his cool, but something about today had him trying to simmer down his frustration. Being so close to finishing in points and then having it ripped away was not a good feeling. 

Your brother was pulled away for debriefs so you wandered around the paddock for a bit before running into Fernando. You had gotten to know him a bit when him and Esteban drove together for Alpine. 

“Hey y/n,” the older man greeted you, pulling you into a quick hug. “Your boyfriend is scaring everyone away.” 

“Boyfriend?” You asked confused and Fernando smirked. 

“Yeah your lover boy teammate of mine,” he said. “Since he can’t talk to Esteban about you, I have unfortunately become the sounding board.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said, mumbling, a slight flush on your cheeks. “Is he okay?” 

“Just pissed, snapping at people, try to calm him down will ya?” He asked, not giving you a chance to answer before walking away. 

Sighing, you made your way to the Aston garage, heading towards the room that everyone seemed to be avoiding. You knocked once before pushing open the door to see Lance, shirtless with a scowl on his face. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Lance's toned chest. Despite his frustrated expression, you couldn't help but admire his physique. Shaking yourself out of your daze, you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you.

"Hey," you said softly, approaching him cautiously. "Tough race, huh?"

Lance looked up, his scowl softening slightly when he saw you. "Yeah, you could say that," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

You sat down next to him on the small couch, close enough that your thighs were touching. "Want to talk about it?"

He sighed heavily. "It's just... I was so close. Those points would have meant a lot, you know?"

You nodded sympathetically, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "I know. But you drove well out there. Sometimes things just don’t work out.” 

You could feel the anger radiating off of him and could tell he was trying to stop himself from snapping at you. 

“Can I help you relax?” You asked and he scoffed. 

“I don’t think anything can help me,” he said. 

“I can think of a few ideas,” you said, moving off the couch onto your knees in front of him. His eyes widened at what you were suggesting, but the way you were staring up at him had him instantly hard. 

“Y/n…,” he trailed as you started to pull his suit, further down, leaving him just in his briefs. 

“Let me take care of you, baby,” you whispered. 

Lance's breath hitched as your fingers trailed along the waistband of his briefs. His eyes were dark with desire as he gazed down at you.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice husky.

You nodded, maintaining eye contact as you slowly pulled down his underwear. His erection sprang free, and you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your hand around his length, stroking him slowly. Lance's head fell back against the couch, a low groan escaping his lips. Encouraged by his reaction, you leaned forward and took him into your mouth.

"Fuck," Lance hissed, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head.

You worked him with your mouth and hand, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, shallow bobs. Lance's fingers tangled in your hair, pushing your head deeper, causing you to gag. 

You pulled back slightly, adjusting to his size before taking him deeper again. Lance's hips began to thrust gently, matching your rhythm. The room filled with the sounds of his low moans and your muffled whimpers.

"Y/n, I'm close," Lance warned, his grip on your hair tightening.

You doubled your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his tip. With a final groan, Lance came undone, spilling into your mouth. You swallowed everything he gave you, continuing to suck gently until he was completely spent.

Pulling away, you wiped your mouth and looked up at Lance. His chest was heaving, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. He gazed down at you with a mix of awe and affection.

"Come here," he said softly, helping you up onto his lap. 

“Better?” You asked, and he pressed his lips gently against yours. 

“Much,” he said. 

You played nervously with his hair, his arms wrapped snugly around you as you both sat silently. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” He asked. 

“I really like you,” you admitted boldly, looking down to see him grinning widely. 

“I really like you too,” he said. 

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to be dragged through the media thought yet,” you said softly. “Or have my family harass me.” 

“We can take things slowly and quietly,” Lance assured you, returning his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and you melted into him. 

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

The next month went by quickly and you didn’t go a day without talking to Lance. You hadn’t seen him much, not being able to go the Brazil GP, which was sad considering how well your brother did. But you facetimed him constantly and he had flown out to London everytime he had a break. 

He was such a sweetheart and made you feel so special, always showering you with compliments and affection. You knew your brother was starting to get suspicious, especially since Lance had bailed on hanging with him multiple times. With that in mind, you decided that maybe it was time to go public, at least with him. 

Flavy had called and said that she and Esteban were renting a cabin in the Alps and wanted to know if you wanted to join. 

“Yeah, I’m free. Can I bring someone?” You asked. 

“Oooo who??,” she questioned over the phone. 

“My boyfriend,” you said quickly, and you heard her scream. 

“Are you joking me?” She complained. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is it who I think it is?” 

“Yes,” you admitted. “Just make sure Esteban is in a good mood.” 

Your flight landed at the same time as Lance’s, and Lance greeted you with a kiss once he saw you come down to baggage claim. 

“Hi, angel, I missed you,” he sai,d and you beamed up at him. 

“I missed you too,” you replied. He took your luggage from you, carrying it to the waiting car as you drove up to the cabin. 

“Nervous?” You asked, noting how Lance bobbed his knee up and down. 

“I can take him, so no,” he said and you playfully hit his shoulder. 

“It’ll be fine,” you reassured him. 

You had thought Flavy would let it slip to Esteban that Lance was coming but based on his shocked face, that was clearly not the case.

As you and Lance stepped out of the car, Esteban's jaw dropped. He looked between the two of you, his eyes narrowing as he noticed your intertwined hands.

"What's going on here?" Esteban demanded, his voice a mix of confusion and anger.

You took a deep breath, squeezing Lance's hand for support. "Estie, Lance and I are together. We've been dating for a little while now."

Esteban's face turned red, and for a moment, you thought he might explode. But then Flavy appeared behind him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Babe, remember what we talked about," she said softly. "Be happy for your sister."

Esteban took a deep breath, visibly trying to compose himself. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since Austin," Lance answered, his voice not wavering. You both waited in silence for Esteban to respond but he just kept looking from you to Lance, not saying anything.

“Fine.”

That was all he said before he spun on his heel and stormed into the house. 

“That went well,” you muttered. Flavy shot you an apologetic look before following him inside and Lance pulled you into his body. His hands found your jaw as he cradled your face. 

“He’ll come around,” he promised and you couldn’t help but smile. Leaning up, you pressed a soft kiss against his lips before heading inside. 

Inside the cozy cabin, the tension was palpable. Flavy had ushered Esteban into the kitchen, leaving you and Lance in the living room to settle in. You could hear low murmurs from behind the closed door as they spoke, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. Lance gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he helped you unpack your coat.

After what felt like an eternity, the kitchen door swung open, and Esteban stepped out, his expression unreadable. Flavy trailed behind him, giving you an encouraging nod.

“Lance,” Esteban said, his tone firm but calmer than before. “Can we talk outside? Just us.”

Lance glanced at you, and you gave him a small nod. “Sure,” he replied, following Esteban onto the snowy porch.

You watched through the window as the two of them stood facing each other. Their conversation was animated at first, with Esteban gesturing wildly while Lance remained composed, his hands tucked into his pockets. But slowly, the tension seemed to melt away. Esteban’s shoulders relaxed, and Lance let out a small laugh, clapping him on the shoulder.

When they finally came back inside, both of them seemed lighter. Esteban walked straight up to you, his expression softening as he looked at you.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “If you’re happy, that’s all that matters. But,” he added, pointing at Lance, “if you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lance said earnestly.

Esteban nodded and pulled you into a quick hug. “Just… don’t make me regret this,” he murmured, ruffling your hair like he used to when you were kids.

Lance gave you a knowing smile as Esteban turned to Flavy, muttering something about needing a drink.

“See?” Lance whispered, leaning close to your ear. “Told you he’d come around.”

You laughed, feeling a weight lift off your chest. Maybe this holiday wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Flavy came near you, holding out a glass of wine, “you’re going to need this.”

“Why?” You said, accepting it curiously. She pulled out her phone to show you F1gossip’s latest post: you and Lance kissing at the airport. 

“Let’s get the bottle,” you said. 

[marsmaximoff]

🪩; club pentagon 𖦹₊⋆☾

content warning: ‘long haired’ fem!reader. suggestive. drugs, alcohol.

word count: 1.4k 💜

author’s note: y’all idk what’s happening to me. like i swear when i watched the show i didn’t care about him. in fact i didn’t even like him. and now i can’t stop thinking about his hot face and hands 😔 expect more fics to come cause i’m going crazy. btw, i apologize for the possible mistakes as english is my third language. enjoy <3!

divider by @strangergraphics <3

the colorful lights create a shiny veil over the club. the music reverberating throughout the place, accompanied by loud, excited screams and intoxicated voices, acts as a barrier to the real world.

while i wait for my friend to come back from the bathroom, a guy catches my eye, separated from the rest, in a corner. he must be around my age, a bit older. and i don’t know what it is exactly, but something immediately lures me in. something about his aura, his vibe.... maybe it’s the dark hair, or the tattoos on his arm, the way he’s talking to the man next to him like he’s important... 

he looks hot. and like a total dick too. 

“you like him?” your friend inquires cheekily, noticing your stare. “i haven’t seen him before.” you don’t forget someone like him. his tall frame and dark clothes adding to the arousing pull i’m feeling. “he’s the reason we’re here. i found the club through him; he promotes it.” “do you know him?” there’s a growing curiosity inside of me, to know more, “not at all”, to get closer. “he looks like a playboy,” she declares, to which i can only agree. “an attractive one, tho.”

on cue, as if he had heard us -impossible given the distance- he takes his eyes from that man and locks his gaze on mine, sending a flutter through my stomach. but i don’t shy away, seeing his eyes go down my body, checking me out, unashamedly. a hussy grin accompanies the action while i keep the intense eye contact going for some time before turning around and heading back to the dance floor. as i do, i feel his gaze slide over my body and smile to myself, satisfied, trying to sensualize my walk a bit.

the night continues as usual: drinks, dancing, some flirting here and there, all that still carrying a boost of confidence from that previous interaction. 

eventually, i take a break sitting by the counter, and almost in no time, a smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and something else surrounds me. 

“hey” he speaks with confidence and a certain ego; the grin is back where it had been before. he leans on the bar and studies me, daringly, carefully. that seems to fuel my boldness, because my hand moves almost instantly towards his face, slowly. he doesn’t back away or stop me; he doesn’t even flinch. i gather the remaining white powder from the warm skin right over his upper lip with a finger and lower it, showing it to him. “oops, my bad,” he says playfully while grabbing my wrist. then, he brings it to his mouth and licks it off my fingertip without one of us breaking eye contact for a single second. holy. fuck. afterwards, he laughs softly, my heart rate going crazy, “want some? i only have the best.” i shake my head, choosing to keep my drifting lucidity. 

my gaze travels down his body until reaching his tattooed arm. “you like ‘em?” “i dont see many people around who have them” “yeah…bunch of pussies. these didnt hurt at all, you know.” the smugness of his words an obvious sign of his eagerness to impress. “you got more?” “oohh, someone’s interested…” i scoff finding his teasing annoying, yet unable to deny the way i have to press my lips together to hold back a smile. “i love tattoos” “yeah? wanna touch?” his comments come off so nonchalantly, flirting a natural habit of his. “i mean, you've already gone for my mouth...” his voice lowers a bit, having the clearly much-expected effect on me, and i give in, my yearning taking my fingers to his arm. the smooth and steamy flesh welcomes me with a satisfying shiver, and the hitch of his breath makes me slow down, caressing softly, seductively. 

i don't know if he's trying to contain himself, or enjoying it too much, but i see him biting his lip, and it feels so good to find a tiny crack in his confident facade, the growing heat in my belly seconding it. the initial trace of ink becomes a search of his now more prominent veins, up and down. “i like how it looks.” i give him a final graze, but this time it’s my hand that strokes his arm all the way down his slender, ring-adorned fingers which i hold and toy with before letting go to replace them with my drink, leaving him all greedy for more. his skin on fire. 

he’s affected now, trying to break the spell, attempting to somehow regain control while his breathing’s all over the place. cute. 

the drink sugars my senses, but it’s not nearly as sweet as the feel of him. 

“you like the club?” he goes back to his usual self, his comfort zone, something he can proudly show off. “yeah, i like the ambience”  “i can show you around…this place’s my second home.” i know what he's doing, using an excuse to move this somewhere quieter, more private, more comfortable…. but i decide to play a bit with him. “i don’t know… i'm really enjoying this area.” he smirks, “and it only gets better, we don't leave the best within reach of just anyone”, getting closer. “so you’re saying you'll make it worth my time?” he pokes his cheek with his tongue, turning me on even more. fucking tease. “in fact you'll regret it if you don't come.”  “mmm…im not sure…maybe i need a preview….” his face is mere millimeters from mine, giving me a perfect view of the mischievous look that takes over his. then, he grabs a small bag from his pocket -more white powder- and pushes my hair away from my shoulder, the contact leaving goosebumps everywhere. when the bareness pleases him, an unfamiliar feeling covers my skin. and then i realize, he’s pouring it on me. jesus christ. he leaves a shivery trail up to my neck, molding it to get a perfect line. his hot breath is getting me dizzy, his hand enveloping the other side of my neck, his allure a dangerous mix with the alcohol. he snorts the line in one, the tip of his nose tickling my burning skin. “yesss, shit baby”, he groans huskily underneath my ear, adding a bit of pressure with his hand, and i feel my wetness starting to become uncomfortable. 

he’s laughing when he pulls back, “how’s that for a preview?”, finishing rubbing the remains of his nose. but i can only focus on his fingers, fuck. i need more. “not bad” i try so hard to think of something witty, flirty, to keep the back and forth going, but i can’t. my brain is foggy, my body is flaming, and my belly is killing me with all those damn backflips. “not bad? that’s not nice of you….imma have to do something about that attitude of yours…” i stand up from the stool, suddenly desperate to get out of there. “maybe i do need that tour, a change from the loud music and everything” god i’ve truly become pathetic. and it seems to amuse him, “yeah? i thought you liked the ambience here….” “and i thought you said you’d make it worth my time” i make him smirk again, what a damn sight, and before i know it he’s taking me who knows where.

the moment the door closes behind us, my back is pushed to the wall, his arms caging me. this time, his eyes stay on my lips while he bites his. “fuck, you’re so hot” i can’t hold it anymore. the praise gets to him and makes him snap, harshly pressing our mouths together. the kiss is rough, desperate, as if we were running out of time. i let out a muffled moan as he brings me closer to his warm body and slides one hand towards my neck, adding some pressure. i’ve never had such a messy, intense kiss before, it makes my legs weak. he keeps asserting dominance the whole time, and bites my lip before pulling back and heading towards my neck. 

my moans get louder as i feel him leaving hickeys all over my skin. “it’s namgyu”, he corrects me, hovering over my flesh. but the blood is already pounding in my ears. “huh?” 

 “i want you to know what to moan”

[thetarsier]

THE QUESTION

a/n: okay so i'm kinda sorta out of my reblog-only purgatory and i finally have some motivation to post on here again!! requests are now being accepted again and i'll try to get the motivation to write them!! i've missed u lot :)

Word Count: ~700

Warnings/notes: not proofread, hotch being happy?

<3: aaron hotchner x reader

“Are you breaking up with me?” 

You had to admit, you hadn’t wanted the question to arise so quickly and upfront, but there it was, floating in front of the two of you. 

It was a rather romantic location to be broken up with; a picnic in the park on a nice spring afternoon. But Aaron was nice and he wouldn’t break up with you over the phone, or at home where you would have to leave and then come back for your things awkwardly. Or worse: be overheard by Jack.

It took Aaron a few seconds to comprehend what you said, “W-What?”

Ah. He hadn't expected to be caught out so early. Well, you were nothing if not merciful - Aaron did not have to let you down slowly if you did it for him. You'd felt as though he'd been leading up to it for a while now.

He had gone out a few times and been cagey about where he was going, he was being secretive, jumping when you entered rooms and seemingly being very interested in how you were interacting with the other people in his life.

It's so nice how you are with Jack.

It was your fault, really. You inserted yourself into his life, jumped head-first and hoped that that was what Aaron had wanted, needed. It wasn't. You weren't.

You braced yourself.

“Usually, when the guy starts to act strange, the girl suspects cheating, but I know you wouldn’t cheat - or at least I hope I know that you wouldn’t cheat - so the only thing left is that you’re breaking up with me.”

“I’m not breaking up with you, honey.”

“You’re not breaking up with me?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly the idea of you stewing over your fictional breakup for even a few minutes was mortifyingly embarrassing. You wished you hadn't said anything at all, kept Aaron in the dark about your insecurity.

You looked up at the trees above you, trying to catch your breath.

“Though I should have guessed that you would have noticed something was going on, you’re a better profiler than I am,” He mumbled as he fished for something in his pocket. 

“Yeah, that’s why you’re the unit chief.” You rolled your eyes, giddy in your moment of relief that the best thing that had ever happened to you wasn’t changing. You didn’t even notice that he’d stopped looking for something until he went silent and you were forced to check on him. 

That’s when you saw the box. 

It wasn’t open yet, and you refused to overreact again before you were sure it wasn’t a promise ring, a necklace, or something else. But when Aaron opened the box to reveal the most engagement ring-looking engagement ring - a three-stone silver ring that was certainly too expensive to be a promise ring - you allowed yourself a small gasp. 

“Aaron-”

“I love you,” You didn’t mind the interruption when it came like that, “Jack loves you, you’re our family. I know that I’ve been acting strange recently, and that’s because I’ve been trying to keep this a secret when I’m so-” He paused to take in a breath, a grin spreading across his lips. “-So excited to put this ring on your finger. I almost just asked you to marry me last night.”

The confirmation that he was, in fact, asking you to marry him made tears form in your eyes, your heart overflowing with love but deeper. You couldn’t believe you’d thought he was breaking up with you. 

Aaron didn’t bother getting onto one knee - he’d done that before, and this time was different. He took a breath in, released it heavily, and then, with sparkling eyes:

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes!” You could barely get out the word before Aaron had closed the box and practically launched himself forward, catching your face in his hands and kissing you passionately.

Later, you would laugh with your friends about the question you'd asked, the question that had been plaguing your mind for days, and how it contrasted so wildly with the question that Aaron had asked, the question he'd been thinking about for months.

[sequinsmile-x]

The Way to the Words

Emily struggles to tell Aaron she loves him. At least, she struggles to tell him in English.

AKA - 5 times Emily tells Aaron she loves him in another language, and 1 time she says it in English.

-x-

Hi besties,

This is an idea I've been playing around with for a while, but was spurred on to write it after I got an anon about Emily and all of the languages she speaks.

This is soft (because we all deserve softness right now) and hopefully funny in parts! These idiots love each other a whole lot.

Also, just a note that I don't speak any of the other languages in this. Where possible, I have run the line past someone I know who speaks it, or I have run it back and forth through several online translators to make sure it's as correct as I can make it, and read articles on word positioning/how it should be written.

(Second also: I know Arabic is meant to go from right to left, but Tumblr won't let me format it like that, but it is correct on Ao3)

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: the tiniest, smallest, bit of spice possible. Blink and you miss it kind of stuff. (Rated T)

Words: 6.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

One

Technically, she’s the one to say it first. It’s something she tells him years down the line when they talk about the early days of them, her smile soft and sleepy as their baby rests on her chest as she insists that she’d whispered those three little words weeks before he had. 

She just so happened to say them in a language he didn’t understand. 

The first time, she doesn’t plan it. 

They walk back to her apartment after their first date, their hands tangled together as they swing them back and forth ever so slightly. She was anxious. Shy in a way she hadn’t been in years, and she knows it’s everything to do with him and how he makes her feel. It’s something about his smile and the way he looked at her that would make her feel giddy. It would feel ridiculous if it was anyone else. If it wasn’t Aaron, the man she’d been in love with for longer than she could admit even to herself, she’d tell herself to get it together, would remind herself she wasn’t a lovesick teenager but a grown woman. 

With him, it didn’t seem to matter. She didn’t care that she’d spent hours picking something to wear, or that she’d curled her hair twice. She wanted to make the effort, to take her time for what she knew would be her first last date. A small part of her had worried at first that things would be awkward, but it had been like their dinners usually were, only with hand holding across the table and the occasional kiss exchanged between anecdotes. She wanted to know everything about him, everything big and small, and she wanted him to know everything about her too. Wanted him to help her break through the walls she didn’t know how to tear down herself, wanted to hand him the tools she’d never shared with anyone else. 

Her shoulder knocks against his as she digs her keys out of her bag, and he smiles at her, his hand slipping to her hip as she unlocks the door. She looks up at him, sees the uncertainty in his eyes, and leans up to kiss him, her lips catching the corner of his. 

“Do you want to come in?” She asks, smiling when his eyes go a little wide, his own anxiety about what to do and how to act obvious. He’d told her it had been a long time since he’d been out on a date, that he was unsure how to act and what to do, and she’d kissed him, barely pulling back to tell him that she was out of practice too and that she didn’t expect any more than just him. He had arrived to pick her up with flowers nonetheless, a bunch of sunflowers squished between them when she kissed him as he explained he’d picked flowers that wouldn’t poison Sergio. She places her hand over his on her hip and squeezes, “For a drink,” she smiles and winks at him, “And maybe some more kissing.” 

He laughs and nods, “Of course, I’ll come in Em.” 

She leads him inside and locks the door behind them, secretly hoping she won’t unlock it again tonight, that he’ll stay in whatever capacity he’s comfortable with and that she’ll wake up next to him in the morning. 

“Wine?” She asks, as she walks towards her kitchen, “Or I have a very nice scotch that Dave bought me along with a cast iron skillet as a moving in present.” 

Aaron had been her first visitor to her apartment upon her return from Paris, and Dave had been her second. It wasn’t the best place she’d ever lived, but also not the worst. It was good enough for what she needed for now, and the best she could do for a person whose credit score had reset when she’d ‘died,’ and who had only just gained access back to her trust fund. For a few months, whilst legalities were unravelled and everything that had been put in place in the wake of her death was reversed, she’d lived like most people did - on her salary. 

Aaron chuckles as he follows closely behind her, his hands in his pockets as he looks her up and down and makes no secret of it, “He got me the same thing when I moved out of the house and into my apartment,” he says, leaning his hip against the kitchen island, “He said no home is complete without one.” 

“He said the same to me,” She laughs, “I wonder if he just has a closet full of the things for when someone he knows moves.” She lifts up the bottle of scotch, “So scotch?” 

“Yes please.” 

She pours them both a generous measure and hands him one of the glasses, her fingers skipping across his as he takes it from her, “Let’s go sit down.” 

She sinks against him on the couch, giving him no chance to overthink their closeness or what she’d want. She pulls a nearby throw over their laps and rests her head on his shoulder, the mix of the smell of him and the scotch enough to relax her, a contented sigh escaping her before she could even try to contain it. He wraps his arm around her, his hand against the bare skin of her arm so he can trace patterns against her, chasing a shiver he causes with the callouses on his fingertips. 

“You okay?” He asks, and she hums as she nods, tilting her head upwards so she can kiss him, the hand not wrapped around her glass on his cheek so she can hold him in place. 

“I’m fine. More than fine,” she says, kissing him again, “Thank you for a lovely date.” 

He smiles and holds her closer, “You’re welcome,” he clears his throat, the anxiety he’d felt earlier making a speedy return, “We should do it again soon. If you want.” 

“Of course I want to,” she replies, as if it’s obvious - because to her it is - but her smile slips when she sees relief in his eyes and she frowns as she takes his glass of scotch from him and places in on the coffee table with hers, “Aaron, why wouldn’t I want to go on another date with you?” 

He shrugs as she turns to look at him properly, her knees pressing against his thigh as she uses the hand on his cheek to make him look at her. He sighs and his hand falls to her knee, his thumb catching the hem of her dress as he runs it back and forth. 

“I don’t know,” he breathes out, “I guess I’m waiting for you to realise you could do better than me.”

That’s what does it in the end, what makes the admission she’d been holding back all night escape without warning. Her concern that it’s too soon kicks in too late to say nothing, so she falls back on an old trick from when she was young and wanted to curse at her parents without them knowing. 

She speaks in another language. 

“Я люблю тебя.” 

He furrows his brows together and fights a smile. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, the use of the nickname making her breath catch in her throat, “I don’t speak…I want to say Russian?” 

She chokes on a laugh and nods, “Yeah, that…was Russian,” she presses her lips together, “Sorry, I said ‘nothing’s better than you.’”

If he knows she’s lying, he doesn’t say anything. He nods as he accepts her answer and he leans in to kiss her, his lips stamped against hers before he pulls back. 

“Nothing is better than you either.” 

He stays the night, and when she wakes up with his arms wrapped around her she wishes she’d been brave enough to say it in a way he understood.

___

Two

She grumbles as she sinks onto the couch, curling in on herself as a cramp rolls through her belly. She’s about to talk herself into getting up to take painkillers, her medicine cabinet never having felt further away, when there’s a knock on the door followed by the sound of the key in the lock. 

“Sweetheart?” 

She groans as she sits up, looking at her boyfriend over the back of her couch, “What are you doing here?” 

“It’s nice to see you too,” he quips as he steps into her apartment, holding up a bag from CVS, “I brought you some supplies. I can leave afterwards if you want.” 

She hums and watches as he locks the front door behind him, “Where’s Jack?” 

“By the time I left the office he’d already eaten with Jess, and when I told him you weren’t feeling very well he told me to come look after you.” 

She smiles as he sits next to her, “I really am fine,” she says, taking the bag as he hands it to her, her eyes going wide when she sees the bag full of her favourite candy, painkillers and a couple of boxes of tampons. She looks up at him, embarrassed in a way she doesn’t entirely understand, “How did you know? I only told you that my stomach hurt.” 

He smiles at her, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks, “I lived with Haley most of my adult life. And I am a grown-up. I know what a period is, Em.” 

It makes her ache. Makes her feel stupid for even trying to hide this from him in the first place, her jaw tight and her temper wearing thin when she’d almost yelled at him when he asked if she was okay for the dozenth time that day. She’d left the office the moment she could and told him she’d call him later, forcing a smile as familiar cramps she’d felt for most of her life rolled through her. If she was honest with herself, she’d wanted to bask in his comfort. To lean against him as he laid his giant, warm, hand on her stomach like he was her own personal heating pad, but she didn’t how to ask. She should have known that she didn’t need to ask. He’d always been better at figuring out what she needed before she did anyway. 

She nods and presses her lips together, “You even got the right brand.” 

He shrugs, “I only bought the ones you have in your bathroom.” 

She laughs, “I once asked a boyfriend to buy me tampons and he looked at me like I’d asked him to murder someone for me.” 

“Well, it sounds like he didn’t deserve you.” 

She looks up at him, her lips pressed tightly together, and she reaches out for his hand, “Thanks honey, this is…really sweet.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says and he leans in to kiss her cheek but she turns her head to capture his lips instead. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he kisses her again, lingering a little longer this time, and she sighs into it, “I can go home if you’d rather be alone.” 

She’s shaking her head before she can even really think about it, “No,” she replies, “I want you to stay.” 

He kisses her before he pulls back, “I’ll make us some hot chocolate, and bring you some water so you can take your painkillers. And then we’ll watch whatever sci-fi nonsense you want to watch.” 

She scoffs in fake annoyance, “It’s not nonsense,” she grumbles, narrowring her eyes at him playfully, “And I’ll have you know I was thinking of watching Die Hard.” 

He furrows his brow as he turns to look at her, “That’s a Christmas movie.” 

She groans and flops back onto the couch, tearing a pack of the candy he’d brought her open, “Don’t tell me I’m dating a guy who thinks Die Hard is a Christmas movie.” 

He raises his eyebrow at her from her kitchen counter, the tin of hot chocolate mix in his hands, “It’s set at Christmas.” 

“That doesn’t make it a Christmas movie, honey. There’s no small town girl visiting home from the big city for the holidays,” she says, unable to fight her smile when he smiles widely at her, the warmth of it settling over her like a comforting blanket from across the room, “And there’s no Santa Claus, and Kate Winslet doesn’t swap houses with Cameron Diaz,” she pops some candy into her mouth, “It’s not a Christmas movie.” 

“You’ve given this some thought,” he replies, smiling fondly at her, his eyes sparkling like she’d hung the stars themselves, “I guess we can watch it. Even if it is set at Christmas.” 

She throws a piece of candy at him, her fake irritation dying when he picks it up from the counter and eats it, the way he waggles his eyebrows drawing a laugh out of her. 

She rests her head in his lap when he joins her on the couch, her back to him as they watch the movie and he switches between playing with her hair and placing his hand on her belly unprompted, once again anticipating her needs. It was strange feeling loved like this, because she knew that’s what this was even if they hadn’t admitted it to each other yet. She’d never been cared for and enjoyed it or felt as if the other person wasn’t doing it out of obligation. 

She finds herself stuck again between wanting to say it and not being able to push past her fear. Instead, she reaches for his hand and links their fingers together, dragging them to her lips so she can kiss his knuckles as she mumbles against them, whispering so he doesn’t hear the Arabic she presses against his skin.

"أحبك"

“What did you say, sweetheart?” 

She shakes her head and turns back to look at him, “Nothing. Just…thank you for looking after me.” 

He stops himself from repeating what he’d said earlier and he nods, pushing her hair from her face, “Anytime.” 

___

Three

She’s bored of feeling like an exhibit at the zoo. 

Ever since she and Aaron had told the team about their relationship they’d been watching them closely, their attempts at hiding their fascination with their relationship almost non-existent. At work, it was bad enough, but here, in Dave’s house, as they had dinner together, it annoyed her. Every time they touched each other, or showed each other the tiniest bit of affection, the team would smile and nudge each other. 

She eventually excuses herself from the living room to the kitchen to get another glass of wine, needing a moment without being stared at so she doesn’t snap at some of the people she loves most in the world. 

She sighs and takes a large gulp of wine, closing her eyes as she swallows it, desperately trying to calm herself down, to soothe her fraying nerves. 

“Are you okay sweetheart?” 

She turns and smiles when she hears Aaron’s voice and she blows out a breath, “I just needed a minute.” 

He nods and points over his shoulder back towards the living room, “Do you want me to go?”

She loves him for it. Loves how well he knows her and how well he loves her, and she shakes her head and offers him a hand, “Never.” 

He walks over and wraps his arms around her, “They mean well. They just have to get used to it.”

She hums and loops her arms around his neck, “I know. I just wish they’d get used to it faster,” she huffs, “I hate feeling like a zoo animal.” 

“I know,” he says, running his hand up and down her back, “Me too.” He says, and she leans in to kiss him, pulling him closer as she sighs into it. When she pulls back, he stamps another kiss against her lips, “That’s a nice wine.” 

She chuckles, running her fingers through the short hair at the base of his head, “Barolo del Comune di La Morra,” she says, nodding towards the bottle on the kitchen island, “It’s Italian. Very nice wine. Not that you’d expect anything less from Dave.” 

“Say that again,” he says, his smile wide and bright, his eyes sparkling with as close to mischief as they ever did, “The name of the wine.” 

She presses her lips together and leans in to kiss him again, punctuating each word with a kiss, “Barolo…del…Comune…di…La…Morra.”

He barely hides a moan as she pulls back, just about able to remember where they were as he squeezes her hips, “You’re so beautiful,” he says, “Say something else.” 

She giggles, something only he was able to draw out of her, “In Italian?” She asks, and he nods. It feels like an invitation to carry on doing what she’d unintentionally started, and she leans in to kiss him, only pulling back far enough to speak, “Penso che tu sia l'amore della mia vita.” 

He smiles, even though he doesn’t understand, “What does that mean?” 

“I love the wine,” she says, hating that she can’t tell him the truth, that she can’t push past the fear she isn’t entirely sure she understands, “And you’re handsome.” 

He leans in to kiss her again, but they are stopped by someone clearing their throat in the doorway. Emily feels her cheeks go warm when she looks up to see Dave standing there, the look on his face letting her know just how much he’d heard. 

“Well, this is adorable.” 

She feels Aaron’s grip on her tighten and she lets her arms slip down from around his neck and she squeezes his hand. 

“Why don’t you go back through, honey?” She suggests, squeezing his hand again, “I’ll be there in a minute.” He almost questions it, she can see the argument he has with himself over it, but he nods instead, leaning in to kiss her cheek before he steps away, his hands in his pockets and his smile tight as he walks past Dave. She waits until he is out of earshot and she crosses her arms over her chest, “How much of that did you hear?” 

“Enough to know you’re playing a dangerous game,” Dave replies as he walks closer to her, “So…you love him?” 

“I…” she trails off, the words caught in her chest and she groans, tightening her arms over her chest. 

“Relax, bella. Even Reid only has to look at you to know you two love each other,” he says, smirking when she glares at him, “So why didn’t you tell him the truth? Worried he doesn’t feel the same way? Because I think it would be less of a waste of time to wonder if the Pope is Catholic.” 

She sighs and shakes her head, “No, it’s not that. I know he feels the same way. It’s just…” She blows out a shaky breath and laughs at herself, “I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never loved someone this much. It’s like my happiness depends on his, and it’s fucking terrifying.” 

He stares at her for a moment, his smirk disappearing as he nods in understanding, “I know it is,” he replies, patting her shoulder, “But you’ll get there. Take it from an old man who’s been around the block a few times. What you two have is rare,” he smiles at her, “I’m actually annoyed at myself for not seeing it sooner.” 

She smiles, “What, me and Aaron?” 

He nods, “I should have put money on you two years ago. You’ll get there, Emily. And he won’t mind if it takes a while. Because he loves you too.” 

She presses her lips together and nods, because she knows he’s right, “Thanks.” 

“No need to thank me,” he says, winking at her, “Just make sure Aaron makes me best man when you get married.” 

She rolls her eyes and fights off the desire to tell him to shut up, or deny that it was where this was all going, “I think that’s his choice, don’t you?” 

“Okay,” he says, shrugging at her, “Godfather of your firstborn then.” 

She scoffs, the sound turning into a laugh when it’s halfway out, and she can’t stop herself this time, “Oh shut up, Dave.” 

The thought of it makes her giddy, makes her stomach flip in a pleasant way, and she can’t shift her smile for the rest of the evening. 

___

Four 

Emily sighs contentedly as she flips the page of her book, snuggling further into the comfort of Aaron’s bed, the scent of him lingering on the sheets. 

The bedside table on her side of his bed was starting to look like hers. It’s where she kept the book she was reading and her favourite hand cream and other trinkets that had somehow ended up at his place. A necklace she’d taken off after work one day and left there. Her father’s watch. It was already starting to feel like home. But she had a feeling that had more to do with the little boy asleep down the hall and the man whose bed she was in, not the apartment itself. 

She was starting to spend more of her nights here than she wasn’t. She’d go home to feed Sergio, to scratch his head and sit with him for a while, and then she’d go to Aaron’s, let herself in with the key he’d given her weeks ago, and spend the night. He kept telling her to bring Sergio over with her, that he’d happily get a litter tray, food and whatever he needed, and it made her love him more. She was slightly resistant, not only because Sergio didn’t seem to like him that much, but because it felt like a huge step forward. An admittance that she couldn’t bring herself to say yet no matter how much she wanted to. 

The bedroom door opens and she looks up, her smile wide as she puts her book down, “Is Jack okay?” 

Aaron nods as he climbs into bed next to her, “He’s asleep,” he says, smiling as he pulls the covers over his lap and tugs her close, “He said he wants you to do bedtime next time.” 

She bites her lower lip, desperately trying to hold in a smile, her love for the two of them threatening to burst out of her, “Really?” 

“Really,” he says, kissing her forehead, “I’m not the only Hotchner in love with you.” She freezes, her shoulders tight as the admission washes over her, a choking sound of sorts escaping her. It seems to alert Aaron to what he’d said, and his eyes go wide. He swallows thickly and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “I…mean it Em. I might not have meant to blurt it out that way,” he says, smiling when she does too, “But I mean it. I love you.” 

Her silence is loud, echoing around them before it weighs heavily on them, settling on their shoulders as she tries and fails to say anything, “I…” 

She feels like a failure. Like a coward, because what was so wrong with her that she couldn’t tell the man she was in love with that she loved him. She curses every bad relationship she’d ever had, she curses her parents, and everyone who ever made it hard for her to accept love and affection, because Aaron deserved someone who could give that to him without thought. 

He deserved so much more than she could give him right now, and it made her ache. 

“Em,” he says, his smile too kind, “I’m not expecting you to say anything back,” he adds, pulling her closer, “I didn’t even mean to say it myself yet,” he stamps his lips against hers, “It’s okay.” It doesn’t feel okay. It feels ridiculous and she surges forward, her hands on his cheeks as she holds him in place, deepening the kiss so she can show him how she feels even if she can’t say it yet. She shifts so she’s in his lap, rolling her hips against his as she wraps her arms around his neck. He tenses, his hands firm on her hip as he tries to pull back “Sweetheart-”

She can see the doubt in his eyes, not in her, but in what she was trying to do, “Aaron,” she kisses him again, knocking her nose against his as she rests their foreheads together, “Please.” 

He looks at her carefully, tries to see the tiniest piece of uncertainty in her eyes, and he nods when he doesn’t find it, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers before he kisses her again. They undress each other slowly, and he rolls them so she’s under him, trapped between the warmth of his body and the sheets beneath her. It’s soft. Tender in a way she hadn’t known existed before him, something that she thinks would make her feel exposed with anyone else, and she links her fingers through his afterwards, lifting their hand to her lips to kiss his knuckles as she smiles at him, hoping he knows what she can’t put into words he understands yet. 

He falls asleep before her. It’s rare. Usually, she fell asleep first and woke up last, comforted by his arms and the safety that seemed to come with them. She lays there in the dark next to him, his arm heavy and warm over her waist, his breath even as it skips across the back of her neck, and she berates herself for not being able to give him what he needed, what she so desperately wanted to give him. 

Eventually, she turns in his arms, looks at him in the dark, his features just about visible now her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. He looked younger like this, boyish almost, and it makes her love him more. She reaches out and strokes his cheek, smiling when he twitches but doesn’t wake up, his head moving in the direction of her hand, chasing her and her presence even in sleep. 

“Aaron,” she whispers, waiting to see if he’s awake, if his breathing changes, and when it doesn't she sighs, “Te quiero. Siento no poder decirlo todavía. Pero te quiero.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek and lingers there for a moment before she lays back against his chest, snuggles into him as deeply as she can and she closes her eyes, hoping she’ll fall asleep. 

When she wakes up in the morning, he’s already awake and smiling at her, and it somehow makes her feel worse.

___

Five 

“I can’t do it.” 

Aaron tries to hide his smile, she’ll give him that. He tries to swallow it down but fails as he turns to look at her and raises his eyebrow at her. She glares at him from her side of the couch and kisses the top of Sergio’s head twice in quick succession, scratching under his chin as she does so. 

“I’ve seen you stare a serial killer in the eyes and not blink,” he clears his throat to hide a laugh, “But you can’t give your cat medication?” 

She huffs out a breath and holds Sergio closer as she pouts in a way she’d deny if Aaron brought it up. Sergio had an ear infection, and whilst he’d been strangely okay with her cleaning his ears, he was resistant to medication. He’d eaten around it when she’d tried to hide it in his food, had ignored treats she’d tried to stuff it inside. He was refusing to take it, and that meant she had to make him take it. 

“I don’t want him to hate me,” she says, tearing her gaze away from Sergio to look up at Aaron, “Or for him to be afraid of me.” 

She watches as Aaron nods, once again stifling a smile, and she wonders if he’s going to tell her she’s as being as ridiculous as she feels. Instead, he sighs and offers his hands out, “I’ll do it.” 

She tilts her head at him in confusion, “What?” 

“He already hates me,” Aaron says, smiling when she rolls her eyes. 

“He doesn’t hate you-”

“He does, sweetheart,” he replies, his smile getting wider, “But if I do it, it’s not like he can hate me anymore, and his love for you will remain intact.” 

She knows it’s irrational, but she almost wants to be mad at him for the way he makes her love him even more. He was willing to do this for her, willing to accept her, admittedly silly, concerns about her cat hating her, and do what she couldn’t bring herself to do. For a moment, she pictures him holding a baby that was half her and half him whilst they took them to get their shots so she didn’t have to, and then passing the baby back over as soon as the deed was done so she could be their source of comfort. She has to shake her head to get rid of the image, to remember the soft weight in her arms was Sergio and not a small baby, and she sighs and nods as she passes him over. Sergio meows in displeasure, wiggling as he proves Aaron’s point as he tries to get a hold of him. 

“Do you have the medication?” Aaron asks, raising his eyebrow at her as she actively ignores his poorly hidden smirk as Sergio pushes his paw against Aaron’s face. She nods and hands him one of the pills and he takes it from her. He’s gentle as he grasps Sergio’s head and tilts it backwards until his nose is pointing upwards and his jaw opens slightly. Aaron drops the pill into his mouth and then lowers his head back down, holding his mouth closed until he visibly swallows, “There we go,” Aaron says, smiling at her as he lets go of Sergio, who immediately walks over to Emily’s side of the couch and climbs in her lap, meowing all the way, “And look at that, he still loves you.” 

She smiles at him, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks, and she snuggles Sergio against her chest, making sure she’s giving him plenty of head scratches as she does so, “Tell me all about it, baby. What did the mean man do to you?” 

Aaron chuckles and leans in to kiss her temple, “If he didn’t hate me already, he will by the time his course of antibiotics is done with.” 

She hums and turns her head, capturing his lips with hers, “Thank you. I know it’s silly-”

“You’ve never been silly a day in your life,” he says, kissing her again, “Do you want a drink?” 

“Yes please, honey,” She nods and presses her lips together, the words getting the closest to escaping as they ever had, the way he looked after her in ways she never could have pictured almost tipping her over the edge, whatever had been holding her back getting weaker by the day, “There’s some red wine on the counter.”

“Coming right up,” he says, winking at her before he stands. It makes Sergio hiss at him, and Aaron throws her a look that could only say I told you so as he walks away. 

“You have to be nice to Aaron, you know,” she says, talking to Sergio as she scratches between his ears, “He’s not going anywhere,” she sighs, “Je l’aime aussi. Je ne peux juste pas le dire.” 

“Did you say something, sweetheart?” Aaron asks as he walks back into the room. She shakes her head when she looks up at him, smiling when she sees the two glasses and the bottle of wine in his hands, and the pack of her favourite candy dangling off his finger. 

She wanted to say it to him, but after everything, after not being able to say it back when he’d said it to her a couple of weeks ago, she wanted it to mean something. 

“No,” she replies as he sits next to her, “I was just talking to Sergio.” 

He nods in understanding and puts the wine and her candy down on the coffee table, “Speaking of Sergio,” he says, opening up his palm to reveal a treat in his hand, “I thought he deserved this for being so brave.” He offers his hand out to Sergio who looks at him suspiciously for a few moments before he happily eats the treat out of his hand and starts purring. Aaron laughs and takes the opportunity to scratch between Sergio’s ears, which the cat leans into, “Maybe he’ll love me after all.” 

“Yeah,” she replies, biting the inside of her cheek to contain her smile, “He’d be a fool not to.” 

___

+  One 

“Anyone want to go for a drink?” 

Emily drops her pen down on her desk and turns to face the others, “I’m up for it.” 

“Of course you are, princess,” Derek says, smirking when she glares at him, “Do you think you could convince Hotch?” 

She smiles, “I could convince him of anything.” 

Derek groans, “God, I don’t want to know that.” 

She laughs as she stands up and she winks at him, “You asked. You okay to gather everyone else?” 

He nods and she walks up to Aaron’s office. She takes a moment to watch him through the window. He has his head down, his focus on the paperwork in front of him, and he looks every part of the stern, focused man she’d first met. He looks up at her, his eyes meeting hers, and then he smiles at her, a flash of her Aaron peeking out from beneath Hotch in the very room she’d met him in. He gives her a small nod and she walks in, making sure she closes the door behind her.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” 

She nods and walks over to his desk, keeping a respectable distance because she knows the others will be watching, “I’m okay. Derek is organising everyone to go out for drinks. I’ve been sent to rally you.” 

He chuckles, “They already know I can’t say no to you.” 

“Honey, we all know that,” she replies, “So is that a yes?” 

Aaron smiles, “I’d love to, but I have budgets to do, unfortunately, they’re important,” he says, his smile getting wider when she looks disappointed, “I could meet you later though.” 

“Yeah?” She asks, sinking her teeth into her lower lip, and he nods, “Okay, so we’ll meet you there?” 

“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, her smile, and winks at her, “See you later.”

She smiles and turns to the door, reaching out for the handle as she replies, “See you later. Love you.” 

It takes her a moment to realise what she’s said, and she freezes, her breath caught in her chest as the words float in the air around them, as light as a feather in comparison to the heavy weight it had been on her shoulders for weeks now. She almost laughs, the absurdity at the easy, simple way she said it after she’d overthought it for so long not lost on her. The admission as simple as it was beautiful, as if they’d exchanged it as often as they had kissed, as if it wasn’t the first time she’d said it. Like it was something she’d said countless times before. She smiles to herself as she turns around because, in some ways, she has said it before. 

This was just the first time he’d understood her. 

She smiles nervously at him when their eyes meet, “Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat, “That…that wasn’t how I intended on saying that for the first time.”

He stares at her for a moment like she’s a skittish animal, like she might bolt if he made even the slightest of movements. He’d been careful to not tell her again since that first time a couple of weeks ago, like he was scared he’d push her away. He’d get part way through and then stop himself, smiling at her in a way that could only mean you know how I feel. It had hurt more than she thought it would, something that made her feel hypocritical because she hadn’t said it at all. 

She’s mad at herself for letting it slip like this because she’d wanted it to be special. But then he smiles at her in a room he’d once scowled at her in on that first day they’d met, and she doesn’t think it could have been any more perfect if she’d planned it. It was like their love story had permeated the walls. Like it was carved into them in a way someone would find in years to come when they were gone. When they’d moved on to somewhere new, their future still laid out in front of them as they stood by each other’s side. 

“No, don’t apologise. Never apologise for this,” he says, finally snapping into action, his pen hitting his desk with a thunk as he stands up. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to pull her into a hug or kiss, but then he remembers where they are, his eyes darting to the window of his office and the team all in the bullpen. He stops right in front of her and grabs her hand, their linked fingers out of view from everyone else, “I love you.” 

She presses her lips together and nods, every reason she had for being too afraid to tell him gone as if they’d never existed, “I love you too. I have for a long time. I hope you know it was never because I didn’t love you. I just…”

“I know,” he replies, squeezing her hand, “And I would have waited forever.” 

She chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her chest, “Forever? That would have been awkward at our wedding one day.” 

He laughs too and runs his thumb back and forth over her pulse point, “We would have made it work.” 

She wants nothing more than to kiss him, but she knows she can’t, not here anyway, and she blows out a breath, “I really wish I could kiss you right now.” 

“Me too,” he says, looking at her like she was the only thing in existence, like the world could burn around them and he wouldn’t notice because he was looking at her, “Later.” 

“Later,” she repeats, “I don’t want to go for drinks with the team anymore. I just want to go home with you.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for us, sweetheart,” he says, squeezing her hand again, their palms practically fused together, as if they were merging into one, one soul that had been split into two for all eternity until now, “Let’s go spend some time with our friends. 

“Plenty of time?” She repeats in a question, as if she didn’t already know he was it, that they were it, and he was the answer to the question she’d never known to ask. 

“Forever,” he confirms, and she swallows thickly, her heart almost beating out of her chest as she nods in response. 

“Forever.” 

[secondarysefikura]

Y’know that trope about dragons guarding treasure?

Well if Sephiroth were a dragon instead of him guarding piles of things like gold and gems he’d be guarding Cloud, because Cloud would be his treasure.

I was once working on a fic (for a different fandom but the pairing is basically the same when you boil it down, lol) about this sort of idea. So let's adjust this fic idea to fit sefikura.

Cloud had to travel into Mount Nibel during the winter to find an animal to hunt for food. Unfortunately, he loses his footing and takes a bad tumble into a dragon's den. Injured, he is unable to find his way out before the dragon finds him and accuses him of trying to steal from him. Much to Cloud's surprise, this dragon has some sort of telepathic powers, allowing the dragon to communicate with Cloud.

Although Cloud swears he was not there to steal, the dragon doesn't believe him at first. It is only after the dragon realizes that nothing has been touched or stolen that he believes Cloud and apologizes. Since Cloud is too injured to make it back to the village, the dragon introduces himself as Sephiroth and insists on sheltering Cloud while he heals. While Cloud at first refuses, saying he has no way to pay Sephiroth back, Sephiroth insists since he falsely accused Cloud of stealing before and therefore owes Cloud a debt.

Cloud spends the next couple weeks living in Sephiroth's den and being cared for by the dragon. While there, Sephiroth nicknames him treasure and starts giving Cloud different parts of his stash. While a bit uncomfortable with this, Cloud doesn't want to offend the dragon and accepts the treatment.

When Cloud's leg is healed enough he can make it back down the mountain, he thanks Sephiroth and attempts to leave. Unfortunately....

He moves to get up and start the trek back home only for the dragon’s tail to block his path. 

You can’t leave.

“But I have to go home!” 

The statement makes the dragon frown, or at least Cloud thinks the dragon is frowning. Though he’s known the beast for about two weeks now he still can’t quite figure him out.

You’re staying here. 

Panic surges through him. Surely this is some weird joke he’s just not understanding? 

“Sephiroth, this isn’t funny.” 

No, the dragon agrees, it isn’t.

Before he can react, Cloud finds himself trapped in Sephiroth's large claws and shoved into a golden cage-like object. Behind him, the door locks with an eerie click. 

“Sephiroth, what is this?” He demands before he can think better of it. 

He knows what this is; it is the consequence of catching a dragon's eye!

“You bastard!” Cloud screams, “you never planned to let me go home!” 

He thinks about what he knows of dragons. Territorial beasts who breathe fire and are extremely possessive of their hoard. The hoard he’s been living among. The one that Sephiroth has been decorating him with.

The hoard he is literally caged in.

He feels so stupid! Why didn’t he crawl out of the cave the very first day and drag himself back to the village?

Please don’t be upset, Treasure. 

Treasure! He’s been called treasure by a dragon and he wasn’t expecting to be held prisoner? How could he have been so stupid?

Against his better judgement Cloud throws himself against the cage door over and over until Sephiroth slaps his tail against the ground in a sort of warning. 

Settle down, Treasure. It’s not going to break, but you might get injured.

Cloud tries to escape later, but he gets caught before he can return to his village. Perhaps Sephiroth could threaten to burn the village if Cloud ever tries again. After all, what reason would Cloud have to escape if there is no other "home" to go back to?

[emsdevs]

No Matter the Distance

Noah and Mateo AU

a/n: This idea randomly came to me, and I had to get it out. I'm sorry in advance for any pain this may cause to any lovers of the twins. The next part will be happier! Also, I will be putting out the timeline soon (masterlist form), but for reference, this takes place when the boys are about three and a half.

masterlist | noah and mateo au masterlist

The boys had been extra quiet since Nico left with the team for a roadie this morning. Usually, they would have worked past the initial sadness by now, but their voices hadn’t gotten any louder like they usually would be. You decide to cut up some fruit with their sandwiches for lunch, knowing that seeing the mix of strawberries, blueberries, and bananas on their plates always gets them a little extra excited. When you finish, you call them into the kitchen and then watch as they pull themselves up onto the chairs that are still just a little too tall for them. 

“Tank you, Mama,” Mateo tells you in a tone that usually only Noah would use when he’s feeling extra shy. Your worry increases after hearing his words and seeing the disheartened look on Noah’s face.

“Baby, is there something on your mind?” you question Mateo, the worry evident on your face.

“‘M fine, Mama,” he uses that same tone again, and even though you know he’s holding back, you decide not to push either of the boys on the subject. They eat their lunches quietly after that, not making much noise. When they finish, they whisper to you that they enjoyed their food before returning to their playroom, still rather silent.

You spend the rest of the cleaning and periodically checking on Noah and Mateo, trying to find an outlet to get the worry out. Soon, Nico called to check in, and though you didn’t want to worry him while he was away, you told him about the boys’ weird behavior.

“Ängeli, I’m sure they’re fine. Maybe they just aren’t feeling well right now. You know Curtis’s kids got sick just a couple of days after they had that playdate with the boys,” Nico was quick to reassure you.

“You’re right, Neeks. I’m probably just overthinking. I just worry about them sometimes.”

“It’s fine, baby. Now, tell me about you. I wanna hear how my wife is doing.” You giggle before telling Nico about your day, the worry already gone from your mind. You talked to your husband for a while longer until you had to hang up to put the boys to bed. You helped them with their baths, helped them into their favorite jammies, and finally got them into their respective beds. You were sitting on the edge of Noah’s bed, getting ready to kiss his forehead and go tell Mateo goodnight in the same manner, when he asked a question that made your heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Mama? Does Papa still wuv us?” his voice is tiny, and it breaks you a little more. Mateo crawls into bed with his brother, clearly having the same thought.

“Of course he does, baby. Why would your Papa not love the two of you?” you’re fighting to hold back tears.

“He weaves us a wot,” Mateo shrugs his little shoulders, and he’s using that small, shy voice again.

“Oh, my sweet boys. Your Papa loves you both so so so much! It hurts him so much when he has to leave you both. You’re the lights of his life, both of us would be lost without you two, I promise. Please, don’t ever doubt that your Papa loves you. Or me, for that matter. We love you two more than either of you could ever imagine,” you’re crying at this point, but you don’t really care.

“You wuv us bigger than Juper?” Mateo was in a space phase, and just a few days ago learned that Jupiter was the biggest planet. Apparently, that was the biggest thing his little brain could think of.

“Yes, baby. Wayyyy bigger than Jupiter!” you drag out the word, reaching forward to tickle Mateo’s side. “And wayyyy bigger than a brachiosaurus!” you dragged out the word for Noah now, who was in a dinosaur phase, and began to tickle him as well.

“Otay, Mama!! No mo’ tickles!” it warmed your heart to hear Noah raise his voice a little.

“Yeah, Mama! No mo’ tickles!” Mateo was giggling too, finally using his normal tone of voice. Soon, they settled down for the night, so you went to get yourself ready for bed. As you did your night time routine, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you’d tell Nico. It would crush him to hear that the boys were worried he didn’t love them anymore. You both knew they wouldn’t handle his absence well, but neither of you thought it would ever get this bad. You decide against calling him tonight, deciding it would be best to tell him when he gets home tomorrow night, even though it will be pretty late. You go to sleep that night with tears streaming down your face.

You spend the next day trying to distract the boys from Nico’s absence. You take them to the park, take them to watch a movie, and even take them out for ice cream afterward. Is it great parenting? No probably not, but you can’t let them be sad anymore. You’re doing what you can to keep them in good spirits until Nico gets home. Eventually, you get the twins in bed, which goes much smoother than last night. You make yourself comfortable on the couch with a book, knowing you won’t be able to sleep until Nico arrives. It’s a little after 1:00 AM when he walks through the door, and you immediately stand up to hug him, trying to savor his happiness from coming home after a win while you can. After sharing a few kisses and talking about how you hate being apart, you know you have to tell Nico then, not wanting to hide it longer than you already have.

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t freak out right now okay?” you gently pull him toward the couch. You could see the nerves on his face, and the thought of telling him made you queasy.

“Ängeli, it can’t be that bad,” he lets out a nervous chuckle, knowing the last time he saw you this nervous was when you told him you were pregnant. 

“So the boys… they um they missed you a lot while you were gone, but it was a little um a little more than usual,” you were stalling and you knew it. 

“Okay… that’s not too bad? Did they say something I should be worried about? Did they act out? They’re usually on their best behavior for you?”

“They did say something,” you took a breath, knowing how much this would hurt your husband, “Nico, they asked me if you still loved them because you’re gone a lot.” The tears were flowing now, but you had no plans of trying to stop them, especially after seeing the tears about to fall from Nico’s eyes.

“They think I don’t love them?”

“No! At least, not anymore,” you cringe at your words. “I talked to them last night and told them we both love them very very much, and they seemed better today.”

“Oh my god. My sons think I hate them.”

“Nico, baby, they don’t think that. They’re just little. They couldn’t wrap their heads around why you have to leave so often. I explained that you don’t have a choice and hate it as much as them, if not more, and they understood a little bit better. It’ll just take some time for them to get used to it again now that they’re older and can think for themselves.”

“How do I even begin to make it up to them? I’m leaving again in a week and a half,” he lets out a sadistic chuckle.

“Nico, they still love you. You know that, right? You’re their favorite person. They could never be mad at you for long.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t just mad, Ängeli. They think I don’t love them.”

“How about you go and get ready for bed, and then we can grab the boys and let them sleep with us tonight? Would that help?” Your grasping at straws trying to keep Nico from feeling so guilty.

“Okay,” his voice is almost as small as Mateo’s was the day before. You finally move from the couch, moving to your bedroom so Nico can do his night time routine. The second he finishes, he’s giving you a look and heading straight for the boys’ room. The two of you don’t even attempt to wake them up, just lifting them from their beds and carrying them to yours. That’s the first night the boys slept in your bed since they turned three. 

Nico took the next day off, skipping practice even though you told him it wouldn’t hurt the boys. He spent the entire day bonding with the boys, making sure they knew he’d never stop loving them. They played games for hours in their playroom until you had to call them down for lunch. After some chicken nuggets, which the boys were very grateful for, they were off to to the backyard, running Nico to the bone. Honestly, this was probably more of a workout for him than practice would be. That night you could hear him reassuring the boys as he put them to bed, “Your Papa will always love you two. No matter how far apart we are or how many time I have to leave, my main goal is to always come home to you two. You’re my priority and my favorite part of my day. Papa loves you both so so much.” When he leaves their bedroom, you act like you didn’t hear anything and pretend not to notice the tear stains on his face. 

The love fests and spoiling didn’t stop that day, though. While he was going to practice and games, he made sure every second he had free was spent with his boys. He even let them go watch practice one day and run around Prudential Center. They were ecstatic to watch him play again, and you knew that every doubt had left their mind by now. Unfortunately, you could tell it would take Nico a while to completely get over it, but just like everything else, you two would tackle that together.

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[keruukat]

PLARN (Plastic Bag Yarn) TUTORIAL!

You Will Need:

Plastic grocery bags (though you can also use plastic packaging if it didn’t contain food, or really just any plastic if it’s long enough and clean.)

Scissors

Pen that can mark the plastic

Something to measure with

I’m not the best at describing things, so I’m going to do my best to supplement with images. I would put alt text but I don’t honestly know how to meaningfully describe the images that’s not what I write in the tutorial. Also don’t mind my dirty desk!

Instructions!

Grab your bag! I’m using this blue one because I thought it would show up better on camera and I have a bunch.

Flatten it out, like so! I like to hook one thumb in the bottom flap thing, where it’s sealed shut, and the other in the handle.

Fold it up! I fold it in half, twice, hot dog style. Should get you a nice long rectangle. Make sure the edges are nice and lined up, especially the bottom and the handles.

Chop off the sealed bottom as close as you can to the seam, and the handles as straight as possible. You want nice square corners. You’ve basically got a cylinder of plastic, now.

Unfold one side. It should have only one layer of plastic. If it has more, refold it up and flip it over, and unfold it again.

Measure and mark the width you want your plarn to be! I use an old staples box for the perfect width for my use, but you might want it thinner or thicker depending on. Too thin might cause issues with stretching while working, though.

Cut off any excess. This is where I’m discarding the damaged part!

Mark the top edge, staggered from the bottom marks. Exactly half way! This will be a guideline later.

Cut the marks on the folded side. DO NOT CUT ALL THE WAY ACROSS! Only cut the folded parts, into strips.

Unfold it! Everything should be attached on one side only. It’s time to Spiralize This Bitch.

Cut on a diagonal where one cut ends and the next begins. Hopefully that makes sense? You’re trying to take this tube and make it into a long spiral.

Ta da! You have 1 bag worth of plarn! Tie any subsequent strips together, and have fun working with your plarn!

PRO TIP: this is pretty labor-intensive but I’ve been reinforcing the plarn by single-crocheting the whole length of it, weaving tied ends in as you go. It’s worth it, because I’m making a granny square tote bag out of this, and I don’t want it to break when I’m done.

[rosiesdisneydrama]

GF x Sky: Got That Magic Touch

AN: Ford doesn’t know that Stan is Non-Binary yet, so he just uses the same pronouns that he uses for himself while thinking about his sibling. They’re twins after all.

I wanted to touch on the idea of Ford learning Stan could do magic, but in a way that wasn’t directly confrontational. And could serve to let Ford ease his way into learning about Sky magic without making something go horribly wrong in order to make it happen.

So, Ford finds Stan’s reminder basin.

There was a water basin in the basement, with some little glowing paper crafts gently floating atop the water.

It had taken a while for Ford to notice it.

But, after hiding from his brother working on dismantling the portal for the past few days, he finally spotted it when taking a moment to stretch his legs.

He’d planned to look around the basement more, see what else Stanley had brought down over the years. It was… Cluttered, but in a Library Backroom way. Things were organized, if not very neatly. And he was curious about what his brother had decided to hide in the secret basement that may have also been used in Stan’s work on the portal. Or simply because he’d wanted to keep it from the nosy busybodies of town.

Give his mind a break from the portal itself and let it look over other things.

Like old science journals and textbooks or algebra studies or- well, anything else Stanley had found interesting enough to keep. Besides, if he was in the basement, then the children weren’t. And Stanley was protective of them, so keeping them out was a small way to make things less dangerous.

(He wasn’t hiding from Stanley after his brother had yelled at him. After the reality check his brother had forcibly given him. After being forced to realize how much he’d already lost before Stanley had even entered the picture. No, he was just… Reacquainting himself with the world before he properly rejoined it. That was all. It was fine.)

Then he’d noticed the soft orange glow out of the corner of his eye and found the basin and the rather cozy nook it was set up in.

There were three little crafts there. A boat, a lantern, and a crane. All of them glowing softly in the dim lighting of the basement. The boat and crane a soft orange and the lantern a gentle yellow. They were actually rather pleasant to look at. The side area they were set out in looked… meditative. The shallow basin they were floating in was sat on the floor, and there was a low table stacked with books and writing implements strewn out across it. Several cushions were on the floor, making it just comfortable enough to sit down.

There were a few more little papercrafts, all neatly flattened in a few shoe boxes on the opposite side of the basin from the desk. They were all yellow-orange paper, by the looks of them, but they weren’t glowing like the ones in the basin.

However, it was still very strange to see something like that. Had Stanley made them at some point? It didn’t seem like something his brother would have made. But, then again, Stanley himself was very different from what Ford had remembered. So perhaps they were normal even if Ford found them strange.

And he couldn’t help investigating anything he found strange. (Hopefully, Stanley wouldn’t be upset about him looking at them. Ford would be careful with them, nonetheless.)

At first, he had thought there was some kind of little light inside them that was making the soft light. But when he’d sat down and looked closer at the little crafts, he realized there wasn’t a tucked inside light that was making them glow. The paper itself was glowing.

How curious. Ford thought to himself, leaning forward to observe the crafts. They looked surprisingly sturdy, despite their make. He would have expected the paper to be coming apart by now, considering they were floating in water for (presumably) several days. Most papers would have been thoroughly waterlogged and losing their shape, but they almost looked new. Like they’d only just been placed in the water.

Perhaps Stanley had treated the bottoms of the paper with something that repelled the water? Wax of some kind would do the trick. Or perhaps they weren’t actually made of paper and were instead made of something else that simply looked like paper.

He gingerly picked up one, the boat, to examine it closer and see if he could tell what it was made from.  (A tiny boat that definitely felt like it was made of paper. If a very smooth type.) And a voice echoed in his mind.

Stanley’s voice echoed in his head.

“Ford fell through the broken Gate in the other room. I have to fix it so he can come home again. It might be his only way back. He wanted to keep it a secret, so no one that lives outside the Shack can know about the Gate.”

Ford gasped, nearly dropping the tiny boat.

How…? He looked down at the little boat with wide eyes. Stanley’s voice had sounded slightly different, younger almost, but he could still hear the sadness and determination that had colored his brother’s tone.

(The use of the word “gate”, while not a wrong term for the portal, was not quite correct either. Then again, a portal was a gateway so it was still a feasible word to use.)

Ford ran his fingers over the paper, trying to find some explanation for the voice. But all that happened was the voice replaying when his fingers tapped the sides of the boat. Like it was a snippet of something that Stanley had said to himself at some point that, somehow, the little boat had stored within itself.

Was the paper some kind of… Magical messaging spell? Some kind of magical paper Stanley had gotten and used to- Leave a reminder for himself? To remind himself of what happened to Ford and why he was working on the portal?

(He ignored the uncomfortable feeling in his chest at the thought.)

Ford slowly placed the boat back in the water, looking over the other floating origami as he did. Were all of them messages Stanley left for himself?

He reached out for the crane next, his curiosity too strong to ignore. (What else had Stanley felt was so important that he needed to have it written in magic to avoid forgetting it?)

”Do not trust the Blind Eye! Ignorance is only bliss until it gets you hurt or worse. No matter how much they think they’re “helping” by doing it. Memories are part of you, no one should ever take them away. Memory thieves are just as dangerous as the things they think they’re protecting you from.”

The pure anger in that message made Ford jump in surprise. But then the words sank in and sent a chill down his spine.

He vaguely remembered the Blind Eye. He had deduced they were a cult of some kind with an interest in his work before he’d gone through the portal. He hadn’t been able to figure out their reasons, however. If they were trying to help him or hinder him in stopping Bill’s plans. They had simply been just another bunch of figures that fed into his rampant paranoia at that time.

Stanley’s reminder seemed to imply that they had some way to remove someone’s memories… He called them “memory thieves” after all.

People with such power were not to be trusted. Such power was far too easy to abuse even if you had good intentions behind it. The longer time went on, the harder it was to justify what was actually helping and what would put people at more risk if they forgot about it. Forgetting dangerous things has a very high risk of only getting you hurt later on, as well. Because you would forget that there was danger in the first place and end up walking right into it without realizing it was something you needed to avoid.

(It was nice to know that there were things that he and Stanley could be in complete agreement about.)

It was a good thing that his world’s Fiddleford had destroyed his memory gun. He… Had destroyed it, right? Ford was fairly certain he had… Unless these people somehow stole another version of it or Fiddleford’s plans for it. Which was possible, though unlikely. His old assistant would have mentioned the break-in if it happened. They probably had a different method that let them take people’s memories. Possibly something from the area that they found that allowed them to perform something like that.

He made a mental note to look into it later. People like that were far more dangerous than even they realized. To themselves as much as to others.

(Fiddleford had likely moved back to California long ago. He doubted his old friend had been in danger of encountering those people. They had appeared after he’d quit the project, after all.)

He returned the crane to the water, tapping a finger against the lantern instead of trying to pick it up.

“I’ve been going insane trying to understand magic and why so much is different depending on who you ask. Finally gave in and made a book that has everything I know in it, just so I can find some through lines for the others. I put the Crown on the front of the first one to make it easier to find.”

 Now that had Ford’s interest.

His brother wrote a book? On magic? When did he learn any? Where had he learned it? It sounded like it was different from what he had studied, based on the comments about consistency.

Ford’s eyes trailed to the books stacked on and around the table beside him.

What were the chances that one of them was the book in question?

Considering that this was Stanley, fairly high. He turned to the books and started carefully searching through them. The note said something about a crown, but what did that mean? Did he just print a crown on the front?

Ford checked the front and back covers of every book. It was probably originally a blank cover, otherwise, Stan wouldn’t have been able to put an image of his own on it. So anything that already had writing there was automatically out. Along with any silly pictures on the front. There were a few nicer-looking books with patterns over the entire covers, but none with crowns.

 He paused at a book with a plain, dark blue-green cover. Some kind of fake leather and sturdy to the touch. But what caught his eye was the front.

There was a constellation pressed into the front, with light blue paint in the stars. He knew it was the constellation Cassiopeia. That was what every constellation map in the world labeled it as.

But… He had a memory of a freckled, gap-toothed little boy squinting up at the stars from the beach. Frowning as Ford read constellations from a book he’d borrowed from the library and they both tried to find them in the sky.

“Cassio-what? Why would anyone call it that?”

“It’s from a Greek myth! She was a queen who bragged too much and got punished for it.”

“Why would they put her in the stars if she did something bad? That’s dumb. It doesn’t look like a lady anyway.”

“Well, what do you think it looks like then?”

“Hmmm… I think it looks more like a crown!”

There had been several constellations like that. Cygnus was an umbrella or a parasol, Stanley insisted that Ursa Major was actually a manta ray, Gemini was a marker stone of some kind and several more. But at that moment, as Ford looked down at the book in his hands, he remembered that his brother saw Cassiopeia as a crown.

He opened the book to its first page, where there was a star shape of some kind carefully drawn and the words “The Magic of the Realms of the Sky” written over the top of the page. And, at the very bottom, in very small writing.

‘First Book, if I end up having to make more.’

Found it. And now it was time to start reading.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Stanley’s book seemed to be a mix of a beginner’s guide and an index of magic.

Which, while different than what Ford normally would have liked, was still educational in its own right.

Some things were explained, the how and some of the why, but others seemed more like a list of the magic that Stanley had, apparently, learned at some point in time. Trying to put everything he knew to paper so it could be referenced more easily at a later date.

(He wondered if Stanley had struggled with it as much as he had when he’d first tried to learn magic. It had been quite a hurdle over his years writing his second journal. There had been a few who’d questioned why he was learning their kind of magic but had moved on once he’d explained that he was a researcher.)

Much of this particular type of magic was done through gestures, movements, and steps that created an effect of some kind when performed. But there were a few that seemed to use a mix of materials to create paints and items that had effects that could either be stored or triggered at a later time. Much of them used stone or cloth as a base that was altered magically, and for many the trigger seemed to be either light from a castor or a fire.

He had seen some things about capes in the book that seemed almost more cultural than magical purposes. So perhaps part of the emphasis on certain things came from whatever culture that Stanley had learned this from and not simply a personal preference. Which was also very interesting but brought up questions of what the culture even was.

Stanley had a rather elaborate cape that Ford had spotted upstairs. It looked heavy, with some kind of scales layered on top of it. Perhaps the scales had some kind of spell woven into them? He would need to examine it to confirm that theory.

Maybe once Stanley had gone to bed, he could look it over…

The drawings that Stanley put in looked as though they’d been done with a brush, and were very simple. They were meant to convey actions step-by-step and not just depict what something should look like. But they were also very simple, borderline stick figures for many of them. Which, while informative, were a tad plain.

(Stanley used to be much more artistic… He had loved making comics when they were children. But, perhaps, his skills had grown rusty before he’d taken over Ford’s life.)

Interestingly, Ford noticed the references to the creatures from Shack. Mostly in the form of doodles in the corners of pages and a small section of the book Stanley had labeled as “calls”. He assumed it meant some kind of magic used through the voice, which seemed different from the verbal spells Ford had used before and had more limited effects from what he could tell.

(But that also held the interesting theory that these creatures may actually exist, somewhere in the world…)

One definitive effect seemed to be the ability to find other users of this particular brand of magic via a “call”. And not simply someone capable of that magic but an active practitioner of it. Assumedly, that meant that there was no active hostility or severe competitive streaks in them. Or that something had happened that required them to have a way to seek each other out. Perhaps they had been developed in the wake of a disaster of some kind?

“Deep Calls” allowed some form of divination magic as well, letting someone find the direction of a goal they were after no matter where or how far from it they were. Which sounded like it would be incredibly useful if one was lost or trying to find something important in a short span of time. Though there was a note about needing to know what it was you trying to find in the first place…

(He was tempted to try it himself, but there was a chance that doing so would alert Stanley to what he was doing right then. And he… Didn’t want his brother to yell at him again to meddle too much before he knew what he was dealing with yet.)

But… He could try one of the other spells listed. He had already learned some magic, so he knew a bit about how to make it work. Many of the spells seemed more cosmetic, or to help emphasize an emotion or state of mind. (Better communication of one's thoughts and feelings.)

One of the gestures perhaps? Something small and simple that wouldn’t cause any trouble. Perhaps the butterfly charming one?

He flipped back to the page showing and reread the small description for performing it. Then he set the open book on the table, rose to his feet and, with a small calming breath, slid into the stance. Pulling at the feeling he’d come to know from all his previous attempts at magic.

There was a moment when all he felt was the faint beating of his heart, and then there was a small flicker of light. And a single, golden-hued butterfly fluttered into existence and landed delicately on his outstretched hand.

Ford let out a small, wonder-filled breath at the little creature.

It was warm to the touch and cast a soft golden glow over his hand. And there was something almost… Childishly magical about having something like a butterfly land on one’s hand.

He couldn’t help the soft smile at the tiny animal as he slowly, carefully, brought it closer to himself.

This was a magic he’d never seen before. He would definitely try to learn more.

(Even though there was a whisper in his chest that said it wasn’t as alien to him as any other kind of magic he’d tried before.)

AN: Yay~ I’m finally freaking DONE with this one. I had another version that was more… Eh, more of Ford wallowing in guilt but I didn’t like it as much. Sure, making him come to terms with things is important, but I realize he’s not really the type to sit and wallow unless there was an active tragedy that preceded it.

Instead, the name of his emotional game is Avoidance. And also Snooping.

I wanted to touch more on Sky Magic for this, both how Stan was using it and how Ford would discover that his sibling could use it. I also wanted to hint at some smaller story/universe details. Little things that would almost sound like throw-away comments. Love to hear if you think you spotted them! ;-)

[bubbipond]

I’ve seen people upset with Bison for pointing a gun at Fadel and saying how wrong it is. To the point of being angry at Bison. But if you think Bison was really going to shoot Fadel, you haven’t been paying enough attention. I said this a few weeks back but, Bison and Fadel are both each other’s biggest supporters and biggest downfalls. But someone was going to have to break that “biggest downfall” aspect at some point, and it was always going to be Bison. They are brothers by circumstance and choice before anything. So because of this, they have wildly different views and upbringing. But one thing remains is that amongst the people in their organization they became the closest and that is very important to each other their arcs. 

Bison, is incredibly emotional in all capacities. But as we’ve seen, he is far more analytical than Fadel. Because he so easily gets emotional, he is also quicker to understand and forgive. While Fadel, is first and foremost, skeptical, and apathetic toward people, which is why it takes him longer to come around. That being said, early on I think it’s important to notice what both boys see as, “freedom” from the organization they’re in. In the beginning, Bison tells Kant that the only way they can be together is if Kant can, “get Fadel out of the way”. In my opinion, that choice of words is very important. He doesn’t just say, Fadel needs to find love or that he’s some overprotective big brother. He sees his and Fadel’s relationship as a barrier in some ways. Where he is forced to do as Fadel says. Bringing that back to the present, Bison tells Fadel that it is his life to choose what he wants to do with it. He officially stood up for himself in a way he wouldn’t have done in the beginning. 

While with Fadel, you have to keep in mind that he is the only person out of the four people who knew the least about what was going on. Sure Bison didn’t know that they were snitches, but he is the reason that Kant and Style could infiltrate their lives. That being said, Fadel is also being pushed to forgive, after being consistently manipulated. Always being the older brother who took care of things and made the rules. But unlike Bison, who always had Fadel to have his back, Fadel only had himself, and a love interest. But that love interest “vanished” and now Bison betrayed him.  And even though he feels betrayed at every turn, he still has the goal to reunite with Bison. Whereas Bison had yet to seek out Fadel.

But not because he didn’t want to or because he had some master plan that he was going to kill his brother. But because eventually, they would have to leave the island. They couldn’t stay there forever, Kant would eventually need to go back to Babe and Bison would eventually need to go back to Fadel. So when he pulls the gun on Fadel, it’s not because he’s really going to shoot his brother or that he’s choosing Kant over his brother. It was to make a point that at some point they were going to have to stop being each other’s roadblocks. Bison knew that Fadel couldn’t kill Style. But he couldn’t spare Style and not spare Kant. Bison holding the gun to Fadel who was a plea for him to stop and think about everything that has led up to that point. Notice that Bison does it turn the gun on Style. He turns it on Fadel. But logically speaking, Fadel would rather die than have Style die because of him. So if Bison meant any type of ill will, he would have turned the gun on Style. 

But that’s not what Bison wants and it’s not what Fadel wants. Fadel loves Style despite Style betraying him. So why can’t Bison love Kant, despite betraying him? Fadel doesn’t want to kill Kant, if he truly did want Kant dead, he could have easily taken the shot, he’s an assassin. If Bison was going to choose Kant over his brother, he could have easily kept running from Fadel or gone ahead and shot him. But he didn’t, because both boys want freedom. But that freedom starts with them freeing themselves of whatever emotional trauma that attaches them. They don’t have to be all each other has, and that is why Bison wanted Fadel to see reason. If you thought Bison could kill Fadel, I’m going to assume you didn’t watch any of this show and you’ve been watching clips.

[dailylittlenightmares]

happy new years!

I started this blog in 2023 and have kept the streak going up until now, so I’m going to be taking a break!

tomorrow I’ll answer anything that’s in my inbox but afterwards I’m going to take a break from posting anything new, but I’ll queue a bunch of old posts to be reblogged so there’s technically still something each day. I’ll get back to posting new screenshots either when the third game comes out or if I’m feeling like it again… ^_^ thank you to all those who have been kind

will now end this post with a video of the thin man doing a cartwheel

[cuteniarose]

Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)