#i might take that tropical vacation myself !!!

[pepperman-answers]

Yo pep’s, you prefer warmer wether or colder?

"with all that time spent in the desert, I wouldn't mind some colder weather y'know.. "

"but, the only place I deserve to be is on a tropical beach on vacation.."

[that0nebird]

Part Two of my OL×ACNH headcanons

I actually had a lot of fun and a lot of trouble making this.

So first off I'll explain his lazy boys I chose Zucker and Stitches. First not only is Zucker a giant piece of food but he's also one of the few sea creature villagers (Octopi) in the game. Truly a villager designed for cove. (Besides Sasha who literally Cove if he was a villager imo.)

Now stitches may seem like a bit of a wild ard BUT her me out. Stitches is one of few animals that is based off an object and not really an animal. He's a stuffed bear and he's like the animal crossing embodiment of childhood. His room is filled with gifts from "mom" and because his hobby is play he's constantly running around like a little kid playing with toys and playground equipment you place. If anything stitches would fit most of the our life love interests in my opinion. I feel like it would remind them of Jamie/Franky. HIS FAVORITE SONG IS I LOVE YOU!!! Like he's perfect.

Next up is his Peppy Audie. She was an obvious choice as her house is literally a mini beach vacation and she was made for new horizons so she's a very tropical girl. She looks like she'd be right at home in sunset bird.

Next up his Cranky. Octavian would have been chosen purely because 1. He's an octopus and 2. He's the only cranky design cove liked that fit with his beach/space theme.

Next is his snooty Diana. Diana might also seem like a bit of a wildcard but I chose her mostly for her interior as it's a beach/flowery themed bathroom.

N e x t we have his smug Cephalobot. Cove would love him no doubt about it. He's once again a sea creature, his name is a pun about octopi. hIS HOUSE IS ALSO SPACE THEMED! Another perfect fit he and Cove would be besties.

Now up for his sisterly Faith! Faith is an adorable little koala with flowers and her house is beach themed as well! He'd have no choice but to take her.

Next up is Frobert, he's the closest cove could get to an aquatic like villager that was also a jock. Grew on him like moss to a brick wall.

Finally for his normal gals we have Marina and Ione. Marina is once again a little octopus so he had to choose her to complete the collection. Ione is a star/space/alien themed squirrel once again another obvious choice for our Space Cadet!

It's the B-Man's turn! This is the one I'm most proud of.

First we'll go with obvious choice, His smug Zell. Zell is literally step 3 Baxter I he were an animal. He's a smug, monochrome gazelle what more is there to say?

Next are his Sisterly villagers Muffy and Agnes. I decided to give him two because he's an only child so I feel like he'd really like them. I chose Muffy specifically because she's an alternative queen which is right up Baxter's alley let's be real. I also chose Agnes because she was the only other monochrome sisterly and she's a very sophisticated girl.

Now for his lazy I chose Antonio because he's the only black and white one I could find. He's just a little guy <3.

Next for his peppy girls Piper and Bella . I must repeat myself and say LOOK AT THEM, young Baxter and those two would be besties. Piper and Bella are so bitchy looking (compliment) I love 'em. Also Bella is another alternative queen.

Now up for his lazy Wade! He's a cute penguin with all around good vibes and a solid design.

Up next to bat is his snooty Portia. Portia is not only monochrome by much like Muffy wears a lot of purples! Her design request in the Happy Home DLC is place where she can listen to classical music! All of the snooty's give off mom vibes so I feel like her personality mixed with design would definitely make her a favorite of his.

Now it's Marlo time! His smug villager is a fancy looking hamster who may also be a mafia boss secretly (???) Peak Baxter vibes once again.

Aurora is our final Baxter-brand villager his resident normal. Aurora needs zero explanation I feel, her catchphrase is b-b-baby and the quote on her photo says "Always keep your cool." She's perfect.

[mytraumanarrative]

A $35 Pen - late 2020

Written May 6, 2024

Sometimes I think I made it all up and that I’ve done a really excellent job at fooling everyone, which is the very nature of gaslighting and goes to show what an excellent job you’ve done! It’s confusing to look back and not recall the feeling of fear. Instead, I feel a dreadful longing with happy moments in between. Loads of effort with burst of satisfaction when I seemingly made you happy, though temporary. Acts of service and thoughtful gifts, those are what mattered to you. One time I told you I might want to be an EMT and you discouraged me because you thought the time it would take to go to school and the money wouldn’t be worth it. You joked often that when we got together, I was planning to go to med school, but that when I changed my mind, you felt ripped off. All of this in our first year of dating and my junior year of undergrad, a perfectly reasonable time for choosing a career and and uncomfortable relationship length to think you have a say. Fast forward, two years post undergrad, and I supported you through 1) two years of SUDP schooling, 2) applying for graduate school, and 3) spontaneously dropping out of graduate school and quitting your job as a counselor to be a full-time barista. Conveniently, you were not worried about time or money or career then. And when I told you I was considering applying to grad school to further my career, you were not supportive and said it was my job to support you while you went to school. You used to monitor my spending; I often felt guilt and shame for wanting new art supplies or wanting to invest in items that were gender affirming. Once you told me you would only be happy with a life where you go on at least one big vacation a year. Preferably two. Preferably a different country. Preferably tropical. Shortly after we bought our second house (a four bedroom we couldn’t afford and certainly didn’t need), I was interested in getting a new fountain pen to experiment with different types of line work for my art. I did extensive meticulous research watching videos of comparative reviews. I went with something low to middle grade, couldn’t have been more than $35, including ink refills. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be mad. The pen came, a late night delivery to our front door. I remember getting the delivery notification through the Amazon app on my phone and the wave of relief that was over me when the delivery driver did not ring the doorbell. You were upstairs in one of our far too many bedrooms. I don’t know if I lied and said I was taking the dog out for her final shit of the evening or if I just silently crept, hoping you wouldn’t notice my brief absence.I went out the back door, as had I used the front door you would’ve gotten a notification that it had been unlocked and opened. I snuck through the side yard in the dark, using the dim flashlight on my phone to dodge piles of dog poop. I reached my arm at ground level to grab my package from the porch as not to alarm the ring doorbell camera. I snuck back in with my newest prized possession. I don’t remember the details, but I must have continued my scheme and hid the packaging from you as well. I felt guilty for lying and afraid to be caught, afraid of the guilt I’d feel of you knew. It’s memories like these that recently come flooding back to me as I’m trying to piece together the truth of my experience during that time. How bizarre it is that I don’t outright recall the feeling of fear. Until now, I was blind to the absolute terror that drove such actions. I remember the longing, the desperation, the guilt, the shame, and the way it felt to try and put on the perfect façade. Even now, I feel so embarrassed of my skewed memory and the knee jerk reaction to make excuses for myself and for you. Sm i honestly about the extent of your treatment or am I exaggerating my misery to feel justified? Sometimes I don’t even know. I wish it was easier to remember the fear, but it only comes in glimpses, bursts of emotion when I deep dive into these memories, but gone when I read them again months later.

[jodilin65]

I slept well and have decent energy.

As part of my goal of cutting carbs, I’m going to drop my water flavor mixes, even though they were sugar-free, and try to drink just plain, boring water. I can think of at least five people who have sworn to me that drinking water has caused them to lose weight, but I don’t think anything I do will cause me to lose weight short of starving, and I’m certainly not going to do that. I won’t resort to drastic measures unless my A1C continues to climb to the point of needing medication, which I refuse to take.

For so long, I felt like something up there wants me to be hypo, if there’s anything up there, and that it also wants me to have sleep issues most of the time. Unless I’m just being ridiculously paranoid, maybe it wanted me to remain hypo so I would gain enough weight to drive myself into sleep apnea. If I were suddenly able to handle normal numbers, then I might lose enough weight to stop the sleep apnea. I really hope I’m just being ridiculous and that nothing up there could exist that has it in for me like that, because if it does, I’d say there’s a damn good chance I’m pretty doomed in the afterlife if there is one.

Jumping to the before life, or present life, or whatever you want to call it, I think back to those younger days full of adventure, hope, possibilities, and whatnot. While I don’t miss these days for the most part, since a lot of it was negative, I still sit here and think at times, my God, is this what the rest of my life is going to be? It’s a great life, don’t get me wrong, but I get up and pretty much do the same things every single day. There is no room for nearly as much hope or possibilities simply because I’m beyond that point in life or have different goals and interests than I used to.

A part of me misses the suspense and wonderment that would come with those times, even if they weren’t nearly as good and as stable as they are now. It seems it’s either fun and adventure, even if that can also mean disaster, or calm predictability with little to no change. Realistically, I know the latter is better and safer.

So for the next 18 years or so, I’ll get up, update my journal, do my hobbies, get paid to do studies even if it isn’t much, cook, clean, and go to doctor’s appointments and stores. I won’t have an active social life because I’m not interested in one and I don’t trust people. I won’t go on vacations every year because I don’t have the money. I won’t have fun flirting with crushes and incorporating them into my stories because I don���t have the hormones. I won’t move to a bigger place because I don’t have the money. I won’t move to my dream home in my dream location because I really don’t have the money. I won’t win things like I used to because the competition is a million times worse than it was 20 years ago.

So what do I have to report in my wonderfully stagnant life? Just a dream of vacationing with Jessie. It was some tropical location and we were staying in a cottage on the beach. I was dressed in a sundress. The windows were open and a beautiful warm breeze flowed through the place. I thought it would be a great day for a swim. I headed out through a slider and onto the shore of the beach when I noticed an orca whale swimming not too far from the shore and yelled to Jessie to get her phone and take a picture. By the time she ran out with it, along with her two dogs, it had swum further out and others gathered to see it.

Then we headed back inside, and she said something about cooking dinner. I said that would be great and I would cook next time.

[elsie--young]

Why Should I Travel to Florida?

When I started planning my next trip, I was overwhelmed. There are so many amazing places to see. Europe has its history, Asia its rich cultures, and South America its vibrant landscapes. But then I asked myself, "Why should I travel to Florida?" What does Florida offer that other destinations might not? I realized many travelers are probably facing the same dilemma. So, I dug deeper, looking for the answer, and what I found might surprise you.

Agitation: Florida's Hidden Appeal

I’ve traveled to many places, but Florida has a unique pull. It’s not just about the beaches—though they are world-class—but the variety and accessibility of experiences. You can start your morning watching a sunrise on the Atlantic coast, spend your afternoon exploring the vast wilderness of the Everglades, and end your day with a sunset on the Gulf coast. The fact that Florida offers so much diversity in a relatively small area is mind-blowing.

Let’s talk numbers. Florida welcomed over 131 million visitors in 2019. That’s more than most countries! Why? Because there’s something for everyone. Whether you're a theme park enthusiast, a nature lover, or a history buff, Florida has got you covered. The state boasts more than 1,300 miles of coastline, with some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. In fact, Clearwater Beach has been voted the best beach in the U.S. multiple times. And if you’re into nature, the Everglades—a UNESCO World Heritage Site—offers a one-of-a-kind experience. It's the only place in the world where alligators and crocodiles coexist.

But it’s not just about the natural beauty. Florida is a treasure trove of cultural experiences. Take Miami, for example. It’s a melting pot of cultures, where you can explore Little Havana and taste some of the best Cuban food outside of Cuba. Or visit St. Augustine, the oldest city in the U.S., where you can walk the cobblestone streets and feel like you’ve stepped back in time.

Solution: A Personal Journey through Florida

So, why should I travel to Florida? Because every time I visit, I discover something new. My last trip was a perfect example. I decided to explore beyond the well-known attractions and delve into the local culture. I started in Miami, where I joined a food tour in Little Havana. I tasted authentic Cuban sandwiches, drank fresh mojitos, and listened to live salsa music. It was an experience that engaged all my senses and made me feel like I was in a different country, all within the U.S.

From Miami, I drove to the Florida Keys, a string of islands that feels like a tropical paradise. I snorkeled in the coral reefs, spotted dolphins, and enjoyed fresh seafood by the water. The laid-back vibe of the Keys was a welcome escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Then, I headed north to Orlando—not for the theme parks this time, but to explore its lesser-known attractions. I found charming neighborhoods like Winter Park, where I took a scenic boat tour and discovered the city’s history through its architecture and museums.

Finally, I made my way to the Gulf Coast, where I visited Sarasota and its beautiful Siesta Key Beach. The white quartz sand felt like powder beneath my feet, and the sunsets were some of the most breathtaking I’ve ever seen. Sarasota also surprised me with its vibrant arts scene, from the Ringling Museum of Art to local galleries.

Why Florida? It’s a Journey Like No Other

Traveling to Florida isn’t just about ticking off tourist spots. It’s about the journey—experiencing the diversity of cultures, landscapes, and activities that the state offers. Whether it’s the adrenaline of riding a roller coaster, the serenity of a beach sunset, or the richness of local cuisine, Florida has a way of creating unforgettable memories.

For me, the answer to “Why should I travel to Florida?” became clear after experiencing it all firsthand. It’s not just a vacation; it’s a multifaceted adventure that caters to every traveler’s desires. So next time you’re planning a trip, consider Florida. It might just be the perfect destination you’ve been searching for.

And if you're traveling with family, Florida is especially rewarding. From the magic of Disney World in Orlando to the sandy shores of Destin, there are countless options for everyone to enjoy. To explore more, check out the detailed guide on the Best Vacation Spots in Florida for Families—it’s packed with ideas to make your family trip unforgettable.

[zepskies]

I was sad getting to the end here too, but I'm very excited to see what you think of how it all wrapped up! 🥰

Dean's eyes following the piece of pie as she served it--I can't taaaaake it. ='] The smile and compliment she got from John. Very rare, indeed. Also, Good Stuff.

Ahaha you can picture Dean's disappointed little face. 😂 I think I can count on my hand how many times John actually smiled, but I thought it was a good moment for it here. 🥹

I love the idea of this family putting that nightmare behind them and taking a vacation together. Beach? Yes. Dean in board shorts? Hell, yes.

I loved that idea too! They definitely need a family vacay lol. Might as well be tropical! I sense a cliche "help me put some sunscreen on my back" in their future. 😜

A glimpse of Jo and Cas! Great to see them in this final part. And I'm happy--but not surprised--she passed her test!

Yeah I was trying to figure out how to slip in the complete closure of Jo's arc, and it felt right to get it via Cas, who's gonna take some time off his cases too while he recovers medically lol.

Something about John protecting her during the shootout and protecting Dean from the aftermath of it... Excellent layers as always, my friend. (Also, "You protected her when I couldn’t" hit me right in the chest.)

John's a protector (just like he raised his sons to be)! I thought he would absolutely do what he could to protect her and Dean in whatever way he could. Plus, he would feel responsible for Dean getting being put into that situation (even if he made that choice to enter the storage building himself).

...It still made him feel dirty. A strike to his integrity as a first responder, and as a man. That was something he’d just have to deal with, along with everything else.

It hurts me deeply that our sweet boy has to carry this weight now. (But it's sublime storytelling.)

Thank you!! I thought it would be more realistic for Dean to still be struggling with the weight of his choice, even if it was to protect his family. 🥲

Mary's ring! Sam and Eileen are engaged! I am squeeing!

Finally!! Saileen is officially sailing! lol

He didn’t know yet if you two were ready for that step. A lot had happened in such a short amount of time…but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He had time to do things right with you.

This is so beautiful and romantic and endearing. And a little unexpected, which is good. (An immediate proposal could've come out a bit cliché.)

Thank you so much! 😭 Absolutely on an immediate proposal being cliché. Dean can be impulsive about a lot of things, but this isn't one of them, I thought.

The team welcoming Dean on his first day back had me grinning from ear to ear!

Hahaa the hero's triumphant return!! Needed to happen, and I so enjoyed writing a bit of Meg before we closed the story lol. (Plus, I really wanted to get to Benny's line to tie in with the story title. 🥹)

She's catering! Yeah, girl! Do what you love! Speaking of love, I am still so obsessed with Dean being her taste tester. =']<3 And him equating mini quiche to pie had me melting.

Yes!! She finally gets the courage to pursue her passion. She and Dean will for sure have more "baking shenanigans" in their future loll. I thought the quiche = pie bit would be on brand for him. 😂

He stared at you with mock offense. “Uh, obviously.

...reading this spooked me because I have a finished (currently unpublished) work that includes this nearly verbatim. Are we sharing a brain?!

Omg seriously?? I love that loll. I've said it before. Sometimes I've written certain lines, and when you shout them out later I think to myself, "I can see why Lara liked that line. That's definitely like something she would write." 😂 And I mean that in the most loving of ways, because you're writing is awesome. ❤️

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” Dean said. “I really am.” You smiled and stroked his cheek in answer.

They are so beautiful. =']

🥹🥹 The fluff really kicks you in the teeth, doesn't it? loll

Captain Winchester! Dean's not the only one who likes the sound of that... 👀

Captain Winchester, indeed!! Could totally see him in the navy formalwear and the white cap and gloves lol.

(Captain Matt Casey from Chicago Fire^)

The last few paragraphs left me giddy. Both over the actual content and your decision to end this story there. Brilliant. <3

Hahaa I'm so glad!! The ending was a bit of a tease, but we all know what her answer was gonna be. 😘 Thank you so much, not only for reading this series, but for your wonderful feedback on every chapter. It always brightens up my day and made me glad I could share this story with you all! 💕

Smoke Eater - Epilogue

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: We made it, friends. 🥹

Word Count: 2,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff and feels, that is all.

Epilogue: “Easy as Pie”

The week after the incident at Stull Storage, John, Sam, Dean, and Eileen sat down to a family dinner that you cooked in the brothers’ apartment. Aside from Eileen, all of you had injuries in one form or another (but even Sam’s shiner was healing up nicely).��

For dessert, you were a bit nervous as you brought out a freshly baked apple pie. Dean caught you mentally bracing yourself before you set it down on the table. He shot you a reassuring smile.

“Looks great,” he said.

Your returning smile was tentative as you divvied out the first piece. Dean was just a bit disappointed when you handed it to John. His eyes followed the plate.

You smiled more genuinely, and made sure the next generous piece you cut was for your boyfriend.

After everyone was served, you sat down with your own plate and encouraged them all to dig in. Forks hit the crumbly top and cinnamon apple filling, and there were collective hums of pleasure throughout the room.

You brightened and glanced over at the rest of the table. John looked contemplative. His fork rested on the plate for a moment.

He gave a rare smile. “That’s some damn good pie.” 

Sam nodded. “For sure.”

Dean looked over at you after he’d already demolished half of his serving. A smile spread across his face.

“Best slice of pie since I can remember,” he said, giving you a wink.

Both of you knew the weight of that review. It humbled you, making you blush.

You smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, rough with stubble.

“I guess this recipe’s a keeper then,” you said.

He hummed in agreement. When he went in for a real kiss, it was sweet indeed.

From then on, you all spent the evening talking, eating, laughing, with you and Sam drinking wine and everyone else their beer. You updated them on Andréa and Benny, who were planning their trip to Greece in a few months.

"We should take a vacation," Dean pointed out, gesturing around the table. "All of us."

Sam raised his brows at his brother. "Oh yeah? Where would you wanna go?"

Dean thought about it for a moment. He glanced at you, and found you smiling.

"The beach," he said. "Somewhere warm and chill, with those fancy little umbrellas in your drink."

"Hmm...I like that," you said, as your smile grew. Tropical, relaxing, a warm sun on your face, and your boyfriend in some board shorts. You could definitely go for some of that.

"Sounds nice," Eileen agreed.

"I'll look into some destinations," Sam nodded. Dean nudged his brother's shoulder.

"One word, dude. Maui."

Sam snorted. "We can't afford Maui."

"Hey, you never know, man! Time to check out some Groupons."

"You can't get a Groupon to go to Hawaii," Sam said. His face was scrunched in what Dean liked to call, his "Know It All" face.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean shot back. "There's a friggin' Groupon for everything nowadays!"

Of course, that devolved into a familiar sibling argument that was only disrupted when John broke into the conversation. He admitted something shocking—that he was taking some time off work, for the first time since he took his sons camping when they were kids. Sam and Dean teased the workaholic for finally "slowing down" in his old age, but it was all in good fun.

You and Eileen shared a knowing look. It all felt as close to family as you’d had in a long time.

And for Dean, it felt like he could breathe again. He’d gotten a text shortly after dessert—from Cas.

Jo made it into the Police Academy. She starts training in a few weeks.

Dean’s lips quirked with a smile.

How do you know?

I’ll be instructing a couple of her classes. Firearm Safety and Weapons Training.

Dean nearly laughed.

Good luck, buddy. Try not to get your ass shot.

To which Cas replied:

My ass will be nowhere within range, I assure you.

Dean did chuckle at that. When you turned to him and asked what was so funny, he just shook his head and grabbed onto your hand on the table.

“Nothin’. I’m good,” he said. He pressed your knuckles to his lips. “I’m real good.”

You smiled at that.

Later that night, Dean walked his father to the door while you and Sam were locked in a trivia game, and Eileen tried to play mediator between two very competitive nerds.  

“Dad,” Dean said.

John stopped with a hand on the door, turning back to his eldest.

Dean paused to gather his thoughts, but he eventually grasped his father’s arm and met his gaze.

“Just wanted to say thank you, for what you did for her,” he said, discreetly nodding at you. He kept his voice quiet. “You protected her when I couldn’t.”

John paused, seeming surprised. His brows furrowed as he shook his head.

“You don’t need to thank me for that, son,” he said.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean insisted. He’d heard every bit of that conversation between John and Daniel in that warehouse. His father had been willing to lay down and die for you, not a moment’s hesitation.

Cas was right, Dean had realized. His father did have a line.

John let out a breath. “What matters is we made it here.”

Dean nodded, though he dimmed.

“Yeah, came with one hell of a price tag.”

It still weighed heavily on him, what he’d had to do to end Daniel Savage. In the end, John had lied on his statement of the events. He’d taken responsibility for grabbing Daniel’s gun and shooting him between the eyes.

“It’s the only thing I can do to keep you out of this,” John had told his son. “Should’ve been my hand anyway.”

Dean appreciated what his dad had done to protect him from the law, and his career, but it still made him feel dirty. A strike to his integrity as a first responder, and as a man. That was something he’d just have to deal with, along with everything else.

John distracted him, however, by gripping his shoulder this time.

“You saved my life, Dean,” he said. And with a hint of a smile, “It’s what you’re good at.”

Dean met his dad’s gaze. He wasn’t quite able to smile back, but there was new warmth in his chest.

“Oh,” said John, raising a finger. “Before I forget…”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver engagement ring with a small stone. To Dean, it looked familiar…

When it finally struck him what this was, he looked up at John in surprise. Dean glanced back to make sure you weren’t looking before he tentatively took the ring.

“Is this…Mom’s?” he asked.

John nodded. “The stone’s nothing special. You might wanna get it reset. Sam already figured out his uh…situation on his own. Maybe you want to find your own too.”

Dean knew what he meant. Sam had bought a ring last year, but he'd proposed to Eileen just a few days ago. They were already planning to get married a year from now, along with buying their first house together.

Dean examined the ring he held with a softer smile.

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he said.

He didn’t know yet if you two were ready for that step. A lot had happened in such a short amount of time…but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

He had time to do things right with you.

A few months later, Dean’s medical leave ended. He was physician-approved for duty, psych evaluation and all. He showed up for his shift bright and early.

He entered the doors of Firehouse 25 to a host of his friends and makeshift family cheering, complete with cheesy streamers and an even cheesier cake that Meg held. On the top was scrawled: Good Job Cracking Your Head.

“A smoke eater returns to the house!” Benny remarked with a grin. “Good to see ya, brother.”

He clapped Dean heavily enough on the back that it earned a grunt and a laugh out of him.

“You too, man,” Dean replied.

Meg set down the cake on the table and was the next one to playfully punch him in the shoulder.

“You have a nice little vacation?” she teased.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, complete with bottomless margaritas and little umbrellas.”

She smirked, but she was still earnest when she touched his arm.

“Welcome back.”

Dean chuckled. “Ooh, now I know you missed me.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she waved a dismissive hand at him. Chuck and Jack gave more sincere well wishes, with the latter actually hugging Dean. He’d tolerated it with a smile.

Gordon clapped him on the shoulder once Jack was finally done, and Dean sent the Candidate off with a bright smile on his face.

Gordon smiled. “Welcome back, Lieutenant.”

Dean nodded and shook the other man’s hand. “Thanks for holdin’ down the fort, man.”

“No problem,” Gordon said. “Any time you wanna go on sabbatical, you just let me know. Acting Lieutenant’s almost better than the real deal. It’s not as much paperwork.”

Dean chuckled, but before he could sling back a retort, the alarm went off. There was a working house fire downtown, according to the dispatcher in the overhead speaker.

Bobby appeared in the hall and clapped his hands once.

“All right, gear up. We’re startin’ off the day right,” he said. He gave Dean a look that was somehow both pleased to see him and stern at the same time. Bobby addressed him with a point of his finger.

“See me in my office before the end of shift,” he said. “We’ve got somethin’ to talk about.”

A few days later, Dean had the rare pleasure of welcoming you home from work on his day off. You trudged into the apartment with several bags and rolling a cooler behind you. He got up from the couch and grabbed some of the bags for you on your way to the kitchen.

“How did it go?” he asked, reaching out a hand to rub some flour off your cheek. You smiled brightly.

“Well, there was a little snafu with the mini quiche, but they loved the menu I proposed. They want me to cater the whole wedding!” you said.

“Whoa, that’s a lotta food,” Dean remarked. Once you’d dumped the rest of your stuff on the kitchen table, he slid an arm around your waist and brought you flush against him, earning a squeal from you.

You clung to his shoulders. “You still on for being my official taste tester?”

He stared at you with mock offense.

“Uh, obviously. Mini quiche are my weakness,” he teased. “Just another form of pie, far as I’m concerned.”

You giggled into his lips as he claimed you for a kiss. It was both sweet, and a bit naughty as his hands moved to squeeze your ass. His words were no less heartfelt.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” Dean said. “I really am.”

 You smiled and stroked his cheek in answer.

The Monday morning after that family dinner a few months ago, you’d quit your job at Savage & Co. After a month of wracking your brain and your savings, you decided to start your own catering business.

It was your way of starting small, to try and get people in this town to know you for your food and baked goods. And maybe, if you were successful enough, you’d be able to open up your own bakery in a couple of years.

For once, you were going after what you truly wanted…but now, your career was only part of it.

You hadn’t forgotten your conversation with Dean about what he wanted for his future: of getting married someday, and having a family. Something he could build for himself. 

Not only did you want that for him, but you’d begun to crave that for yourself as well: a family of your own.

Realistically, you knew that part was years away for you and Dean. However, you had that in the back of your mind. Having your own business had always been your dream, but sometimes your dream could adjust. 

Or, it could become something new.

You’d also sold your grandparents’ house. You had contemplated going back, but you didn’t want to be reminded of how the police and the Arson Department had torn it apart after Daniel Savage threatened your life. You didn’t want to be reminded of where both of your grandparents died.

You loved that house, but you also knew it was time to let it go…

Because you finally understood what your grandfather had tried to tell you months ago.

A house did not make a home. And now, you’d managed to make a new one.

For his part, Dean had been happy to have you stay in his apartment. Sam was getting ready to move out in a few months anyway, as he and Eileen were deep into house hunting and planning their wedding.

“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.

“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.

Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he held your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.

Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little.

“They want to promote me to Captain,” he said.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes went wide.

“They? Who’s they?” you asked.

Dean blew out a breath and scratched at the small scar on the side of his head.

“Apparently it came from the Battalion Chief.”

He explained that the Fire Department had gotten the full debrief from both Sam and John about Dean’s involvement in ending the serial arsons and murders committed by Nick and Daniel Savage. Without you and Dean, they wouldn’t have figured out Azazel’s identity, let alone stopped his criminal enterprise.

You smiled wide with excitement as you held Dean’s face in your hands.

“That’s amazing!” you said. You pulled him in for a hug. Though he held you back, you soon realized that you were happier than he seemed to be. You pulled back and carded your fingers through his hair, earning his gaze.

“What’s wrong, baby? This is great news!”

Dean’s lips pursed. “I don’t know. I broke ranks and defied a direct order at the Savage & Co. fire. And at the warehouse, I was even more reckless. I don’t want to be promoted for disobeying orders.”

You frowned at that, even as you continued to stroke through his hair.

“What did Bobby tell you?” you asked.

Once again, Dean sighed. He’d been called into Bobby’s office a few days ago, after his first shift back at 25.

He’d surprised the hell out of Dean.

“Did you break ranks that day, and put not just yourself, but Benny and the rest of your men in danger?” Bobby said. “You bet your ass.”

Dean averted his gaze. He stood with his hands drawn behind his back, willing to take whatever punishment the Chief saw fit.

“But,” Bobby continued. His fingers tapped on his desk, where he sat on the edge across from Dean. “It wasn’t fair of me to stop you from lookin’ for your girlfriend.”

Dean’s attention sharpened at that, and he frowned in confusion. Bobby didn’t apologize. Ever.

“Sir?” Dean asked uncertainly.

Bobby softened the slightest bit. He heaved a sigh.

The man was a widower, but he still wore his wedding ring. He toyed with it now on his finger.

“We could’ve radioed in with the other teams already at work. I could’ve paired half of your team with the top floor units. But in the heat of the moment, I made a judgment call,” Bobby said, leveling Dean with a look. “As a leader, you’ll continue makin’ mistakes. You’ll make the wrong call. It’s how you learn to keep leading that matters. And there ain’t a person in this house that wouldn’t have gone up to pull your fool head outta that fire.”

Dean stayed quiet in his discomfort. He still wasn’t entirely sure why Bobby was telling him all of this.

“That being said, this is coming from the top,” Bobby said. His gruffness was back. He took a folder off his desk and handed it to Dean. “Here’s the next step, if you choose to accept it.”

You were crying by the end of his story. Dean cupped your cheek and caught your tears with his thumb. You grabbed that hand and gently squeezed.

“He believes in you, Dean,” you said. “So do I. And it’s my turn to be so damn proud of you.”

Dean graced you with a smile for that one. Yours brightened. You moved off the couch and slid into his lap, twining your arms around his neck. Dean welcomed you with an arm around your waist and a hand sliding up your jean-clad thigh.

“Guess I’m gonna have to get used to calling you Captain,” you said with a smirk.

Captain Winchester, Dean considered, rolling the weight of it around in his mind.

He chuckled. “Okay, maybe I'm liking the sound of that.”

“Mhmm, that’s what I thought,” you said, shortly before you pressed your lips to his. He squeezed your hip while your deft fingers once again slipped into his hair. With each new kiss, Dean felt more of his uncertainty melt away.

A new thought occurred to him then. It made him start to grin against your lips, and you parted from him.

“What?” you asked in amusement.

Dean slipped a hand into his pocket, where he felt the outline of his mother’s newly resized ring.

“Hey,” he said. Your brows drew together in suspicion at the gleam in his eye. 

“Hey, yourself,” you quipped. 

Dean breathed in deep, steeling himself. He looked into your eyes, and he smiled. 

“I’ve got a question for you.”

AN: ...And I think we all know what her answer was. ❤️‍🔥

I can't believe it! I started posting this story on September 15, the beginning of Hispanic Heritage Month. Almost four months later, we finally made it to the end of Smoke Eater. 🥹

Thank you to all of you who've been following along at any point of the journey. Your comments and feedback have truly touched me, and have helped keep me going! 💕

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[nyrarachelle-plays]

Overwater Beach Villa: Perfect for Honeymoons, BaeCations, & Solo-Cations! | NO CC | My First Build.

This is a reupload from my lifestyle channel, NYRARACHELLE. Now that I’ve committed to making a space for play and creation in NYRARACHELLE Plays, I’m happy to share footage of my first build in The Sims 4 from the launch of Island Living! Yesss, it’s that old, but I’m still proud of it, because it was my first build in the Sims 4! Lol so although this has already been shared on the gallery & Youtube, I figured I'd still share the process of building this Sulani Overwater Beach Villa, in the form of a speed build over here, too. 

I was inspired by the overwater beach villas in tropical locations such as the Maldives and Bora Bora and I was so excited to make a relaxing vacation spot I would want to head to myself. Now, with the November 2020 update, you should be able to vacation to Sulani using this beach bungalow as a rental lot or even make it a permanent place to live as a residential one! Hope it takes you away in times like these! I might update it soon with content we now have, so: Check it out & Enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Speed Build (w/ Commentary) | https://youtu.be/NVqxo5iNV9c

Gallery Download Link | https://www.ea.com/games/the-sims/the-sims-4/pc/gallery/C9FC5781AB3711E98DFEDEC32F1B8FB3

[senditcolton]

The Intimacy of... (3)

word count: 0.8k warnings: none!

The Intimacy of... sharing one earbud each

You had planned on saving your vacation days at work for the summer, maybe to fly back home to see your family or travelling somewhere warm and tropical. But when Quinn texted you, asking if you wanted to come with him to the All-Star Game, you weren’t about to say no.

Well, that was a slight lie. You did initially say no, stating that he should be bringing his family to see him play. But then he told you that there was scheduling conflicts with his family and as much as they wanted to be there, they couldn’t make it. So, he was inviting you.

You had known that both Quinn and Brock were named to the roster, having sent a quick congratulation text to your group chat when it was announced. But you? Sitting in first class? Flying to Denver to see them play? You definitely didn’t see that one coming.

But here you were; in the window seat with Brock on your left and Quinn sitting across the aisle.

You had spent about an hour of the flight staring out the window, chatting with Brock, and taking advantage of all the great amenities that first class provided; snacks, pillows, plenty of leg room, and alcohol. And right now, you were taking advantage of another perk: free internet.

You had brought your laptop along with you, in the hopes that maybe you would be able to get some work done while you were in your hotel, before the All-Star weekend officially started and maybe in the evening between the Skills Competition and the actual game. And if you really wanted to, you could easily do some of your work right now, thirty-thousand feet in the air. You could. But instead, you were rewatching The Queen’s Gambit.

You had just finished the first episode before you were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder. After quickly pausing, you took off one earbud and turned towards the person who interrupted your marathon.

“What’s up Brock?”

“What are you watching?”

“Um,” you say turning back towards your laptop screen, frozen on the start of the title card. “The Queen’s Gambit. It’s a Netflix series.”

“It looks really cool.”

“Looks?” you ask, the teasing light in your voice. You had noticed Brock leaning over periodically during the first episode, eyes glued to the screen as he watched the story unfold. And at your words, you can see Brock’s cheeks tinge a light pink.

“Yeah,” he says, drawing out the vowel, his arm subconsciously reaching to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. “I might have been looking over at your screen for a bit.”

“For how long?”

“Right around… the beginning of the episode?”

“Brock!” you laugh. “That’s kind of creepy.”

“What! It caught my eye! And you have your subtitles on so, it was pretty easy to follow,” he explains, his cheeks never losing their rosy color.

“You know, if you wanted to watch it with me, you could’ve just asked.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt. You looked like you were relaxing.”

You sigh, slightly shaking your head at the sweet but sometimes dumb personality of your friend. The way Brock put almost everyone’s needs in front of him was one of the things your really loved about him but at the same time, it seemed like he couldn’t understand that he wouldn’t be an inconvenience if he did ask others for help. Even if it was something as simple as a television show.

“Come on Boes,” you chirp, throwing in his nickname for good measure. “Just watch the show with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Brock, if you ask me that again, I’m going to scoot as far away from you as possible and watch the rest of it myself.” You see that crooked smile appear on Brock’s face at your lighthearted ‘threat’ before his eyes were bouncing around your seats, his eyebrows furrowing.

“How?”

You sigh again, taking out your remaining earbud. You shift in your seat, moving your body as close to the armrest between the two of you as you could until you’re sitting at a slight angle, your back squeezed into the corner of the seat. You turn your laptop more towards Brock, adjusting the screen position so there was no glare. Finally, you slip your right headphone into your ear and look up at Brock, your hand offering him the remaining earbud.

He smiles down at you and the look in his eyes has your heart doing little somersaults in your chest. He takes the headphone from your hand and puts it on. As you hit the play button, you attempt to quiet your heartbeat so you can focus on the show.

However, it takes a little longer than you initially thought it would. Because Brock decides to lean in closer to you, until your shoulders are barely brushing.

[wild-eyed-j0k3r]

Hmmmm

[eustasskiddsprosthetic]

It has barely been an hour and my Sabolaw brainrot has activated. I have a specific vision.

Sabo is a pawnshop owner living like a hermit in a wayward forest. He works as a writer in his free time and has a pretty humble way of life. He goes to the city to visit his brothers and friends but would always return home to his little home.

TMI but I'm from Singapore, which means Southeast Asia and I have a particular fondness for the tropical, humid aesthetic. Large banana trees, large mango and jackfruit trees towering over small kampung houses. Sabo makes his living there where he eats fresh meat and vegetables from the market while also harvesting fresh fruit for himself for supper.

One day, he meets this quiet, softspoken traveller named Trafalgar Law. This person says he needed to get his watch fixed and Sabo happily obliges since Law offered to pay any price. It was his father's Corazon's watch and it was in the shape of a heart. It was made of multiple tiny pink diamonds and it was a joy to see them all shine and glitter from the light of the window.

Sabo says Law could stay behind if he wished. He could use the company. Law hesitates.

This traveller, as Sabo realises, is incredibly awkward. Sure, he looks like he could and would kill Sabo for sport but Sabo doubted that would happen. If he tried anything, Sabo could and would kill him back! It's fine.

Sabo invites him to sit down at his desk as he fixes the watch. Usually, people would stare at his hands as he works on their precious valuables. Partly out of interest and partly out of caution—Sabo's used to both and he doesn't mind that Law is wary but he could not help but feel Law's looking at him rather strangely.

"May I ask you something?" Law asked politely.

"Sure!" Sabo says mindlessly as he removes a particularly rusty gear.

"What happened to your eye?" Sabo glances up and takes a good look at Law and realises Law looks quite smart. An educated man. "Y-you don't need to explain. Everyone has a thing they'd rather not share and it's none of my business, anyway."

Law isn't the first to notice but he is to point it out. Sabo stopped working and smiled. He closed his right eye, such that he looked like he was winking and smiled. "Look closer," Sabo said and Law did. Law gently touched Sabo's scarred area and nearly jumped.

"It's fake."

Sabo opened his right eye and smiled. "Ding-ding! Yep! It's cool, isn't it? I did it myself when I was thirteen? I think."

Sabo loved the way Law's expression changed from, "I think I can take him on in a fight" to "Please do not fight me." It might be his sadistic side speaking, but he found Law's pink cheeks rather adorable.

After about two hours, Sabo fixes Law's watch and Law pays him very generously. Apparently, this watch was the last thing he had from his father before he passed away. He found it in his (abusive) uncle's bedroom one day while snooping and stole it for himself, hiding it in the most random places to keep it safe. Law was very embarrassed for oversharing but Sabo insisted Law stay for dinner so they could talk about it and Law timidly agreed.

During dinner that day, they spoke about themselves and got to know each other better.

Law was a doctor and was on vacation for a month to 'take a break'. He liked eating rice and fish. Sabo had this pawnshop for about ten years and he likes writing about whatever trinkets he comes across. They both don't like 'rude, inconsiderate people'. They both liked wearing suits. They both loved reading and Sabo promised to let Law indulge in his library. The fact that this felt like a first date was not lost on Sabo but Law seemed so happy to make a new friend that Sabo let it be. His small smiles were cute. This would be the first of many such dinners together. After all, Law just sort of stayed with Sabo for what seemed like a few days, and then weeks... And then three months have passed and Law was still there, now reading Sabo's book of translated poems with illustrations, signed by the author at a book fair. It felt almost too natural to welcome Law into his life... Almost too perfect.

"Law, are you leaving soon?" Sabo asked politely as he gave Law some water.

Law seemed startled. He nodded. "This Saturday, actually. I can't take anymore leave."

Sabo was rather sad to hear that. "This was lovely. It would be nice if you would play host for me."

Law laughed. "I can't ask that from you."

"Ask what?"

"I can't ask you to leave this behind and come with me," Law said mildly. "It'll be unreasonable."

Sabo nodded. Law was right. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"I too have something I can't leave behind," Law said.

Sabo laughed. "And what is that?"

"My friends. They're all I have left."

Sabo seemed a bit sad to hear that. I'm here too.

"Shame," Sabo said. He tried to smile when Law did. Sabo saw Law was trying very hard to act okay too. He wanted to say that he would miss Law but the words just won't come out of his mouth. Sabo had always been articulate—that was why he loved writing and talking. Now, however, when it really matters, Sabo could not get any fucking word to work.

Thankfully, Law, in a rare moment of courage, stepped forward and kissed Sabo first on the cheek and then on the lips. Longingly but also warmly, like Law enjoyed loving Sabo in those three months. Sabo kissed back, feeling the same.

I'm working on a kidlaw thing now where Kidd's the owner of a fashion conglomerate called Victoria Punk. They met in the flagship store and they flirt, yadda yadda whatever—that's not important. What is though, is how I immediately thought of how the Ace and Sabo would get involved in the (luxury) fashion industry since they're my favs alongside Kidd. Here's my takes lmao

Ace would own a shoe store. He sells a pretty small but reliable and beautiful collection of leather shoes and boots. As an athlete and hitchhiker, he understands the need for footwear that's durable, comfortable and fashionable. Since his target demographic are fellow hitchhikers who do insane shit outdoors, his shoes are good quality. They will live through avalanches, snowstorms, cyclones, rocky mountains, swamps—whatever—and the most you'd need to do is replace the laces. Aesthetically-speaking, they're plain, but if you're into the look of sturdy leather that smells wonderful (like me), his stuff is perfect for you.

I say this because I'm currently imagining Ace helping Law try the shoes on like he would delicately slip them on Law's feet like a princess and tie his laces for him. He would look up at Law and smile when he sees that Law feels very comfortable in these shoes.

Gah! The intimacy!

For funsies, he makes Law try on those high, knee-length boots and gets very turned on because Law has legs for days. It's like a kink of his now and he gets esp turned on seeing that.

For Sabo, I can't decide between a watch shop or a (pawn) jewellery store. Either way, I want him to be very involved with people, as in he would sit there and admire little intricate things with his clients. He loves listening to what customers like and helping them find what they're looking for. Rather than for practical purposes like Ace, Sabo's more interested in sentimental values. He's not interested in just a pretty watch or a pretty ring— he wants to help clients find the perfect watch for their children to pass down to their grandchildren; he wants to help clients find the perfect engagement ring for their loved ones. He's into the storytelling aspect of luxury marketing.

If we're talking Sabolaw, then maybe Law walks into Sabo's little run down store one day and asks if Sabo could help fix an heirloom from Corazon. Sabo agrees for a small fee and from there they talk about the thing itself, and then onto what Sabo does, and then what Law does. Amongst this heart to heart, they look at each other and go. oh.

I enjoy this person very much.

[televisionboy]

This is an angsty drabble I did during my English class! So looking for that A. Contains some of my favorite quotes and so I just kinda put all those together for a fic.

Taglist: @punkgeekchic @adoresobs @visionsofsweettea @am4sawa @reblogsfandom @somethingstuffy @evarolines

This Isn’t Happiness

You had solidly been a part of Timothee’s life for a year and a half, on and off. It was a complicated relationship that normally had you broken down, but you almost always crawled back to him.

Who could resist him? You would tell your friends. He has a journey he’s passionate about. We’re all aimless on a never ending search for something passionate. Might as well take an opportunity and see how this goes.

It was if not entirely selfish to say this, but it was what you had believed. And he was entirely in on it, welcoming you back every single time. His friends claimed the both of you were too toxic, too immature, not fit for a longtime relationship with eachother.

You told Timothee that while he was in the process of working on a new movie, you were going to take a vacation “somewhere tropical and isolated” you texted him twice. Letting him know you landed safely, and a teen girl was wearing quite a thirsty t shirt of Timmy. But that was all, and he grew impatient but restless. Sensing that the two of you were growing farther and farther apart. And it absolutely terrified him but he knew that was the ending. No matter what.

Maybe it was the hippie that you sat next to in a coffee shop on your vacation, or all the wine you drank on your last night, but you decided that you were not able to be with anybody at this moment in time. There wasn’t any possible way you could stay with Timothee another moment, it was wildly unfair to him and to you. Neither of you in a healthy headspace to accept love for each other.

So you made a pit stop by his apartment to grab your sweater you left a few weeks ago, and to leave him a note. It would be a lie to say you didn’t crash into your new couch and feel as if you could just evaporate in thin air, nearly encouraging god to make it happen.

The things you said to Timothee the last few weeks, made him confused but the closer he got to the apartment, the more he thought about it and the faster his heart beat.

“Attachment is the root of all suffering you know” you would say during a fight. Those words had made him think that you didn’t want to be attached to him.

“Who is more you? You, or the you you made yourself make?” Almost as if mocking his fame, his mouth opened in an o shape.

They stuck with him, but what would stick with him forever was the sticky note on the kitchen island.

To whom it may concern,

I now realize that what I love in you is what I myself want to become. We’ll meet again soon but until then, thank you for everything T.

[soupercatte]

FFXIV Writing Prompt #8: Tepid

“You’re joking, right?”

Teka’a scowled at his father as they stood on the side of a small dirt road, the chocobo carriage they had been riding in pulling away as the birds kweh!-ed happily in the scorching La Noscean sun. Seemingly undeterred, Kelas’ra smiled broadly at the tween, his fading silvery hair nearly blinding in the sun. 

“I would never jest about such a thing! Hurry hurry, before you burn to a crisp out here!”

More like a child than an adult man he gathered their things in his arms, excitedly bouncing down the path towards the beach. With a heavy sigh well beyond his years, Teka’a began the descent himself, hissing and grumbling as the dirt gave way to sand, burning his toes in the sandals they had purchased merely a few hours prior.

He’d never been to Costa del Sol before and rightly he had never really wanted to, having grown accustomed to the chill of Ishgard and the temperate forests of Gridania where he had been born. The air here was thick and muggy and the sun’s rays so strong he thought he might combust on the spot, turning into a smoking splotch upon the sand. It had been torture enough to suffer the ride here from Limsa Lominsa, traveling via cart instead of taking the ship like any sane person would, Kelas’ra instead insisting on the so called “scenic route”.

Teka’a struggled to walk across the sand, pushing past the fronds of a large tropical plant that had begun to grow in the way and blinked wearily, scanning the paths ahead to see Kelas’ra waving at him, pointing down a path to the left.

“Here!” The man called, his voice carrying over the cries of the birds that circled overhead, “We’re down here!”

The boy huffed once more and picked up the pace to close the distance between them, finding himself thankful for the small sticks and twigs that soon began to line the path, making it easier for him to  cross the sand dunes. Before long he caught up to Kelas’ra, joining him by his side as they passed by small huts built along the foliage line, spread several yalms apart so that each one was perfectly hidden from the other.

“You’re really excited about this, huh?” Teka’a murmured as they paused to let a flock of Apkallu waddle by, squawking up a storm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…”

He glanced up at his father, noting the excited glimmer in his eyes as they pressed on. “...so chipper.”

“Am I truly so obvious?” Kelas’ra laughed, his honeyed voice playful and warm. “I will admit, it has been quite a while since I’ve taken a vacation. I had expected to just nap at home for a few days, but when the others mentioned this, well…I couldn’t help myself. In the wintertime, nonetheless!”

They stopped in front of a hut at the very end, offset from the sandy path and guarded by massive tropical bushes and trees with the cliffside a few yalms in the back. Distantly he heard the roar of a waterfall, wondering if they would have access to it or not.

“This is us.” Kelas’ra purred, his ears and tail flicking madly in the air as he gleefully cheered and turned to the boy. “Aren’t you excited? It’s a beach vacation!”

Teka’a scanned the hut, noting the rickety fiber walls and the thatched roof before he slouched, clutching his bag to his chest.

“Absolutely ecstatic.” The child grumbled. “Simply beside myself. Tears of joy I could weep but alas it’s too hot and I’m too thirsty.”

Instead of concern Kelas’ra burst into a ringing laugh, nudging his shoulder before he continued onward towards the hut. “Oh come now, what’s with that pitiful, tepid response? This is all for you, you know!”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

They entered the hut and Teka’a glanced about, taking stock of the wide bed made of woven palm leaves and bamboo. That was the main draw of the hut, it seemed, a small fire pit and cookpot in the center of the room and a single chest of drawers shoved against the back wall, the drawers offset and sideways if there were even drawers at all. At least there’s a desk. He sighed to himself, setting his bag on the bed before testing the reeds with his hand. They didn’t give way so he carefully sat down, wincing at the loud creaking of the bamboo holding up his weight.

“Tis true.” Kelas’ra mused as he unpacked their belongings, pulling his curly silver hair free from the bun he typically wore, letting it poof out in all directions from the humidity. He rather looked like a Cloud Mallow, as skinny as he was and how vibrant his hair had turned, causing Teka’a to snort to himself.

When he’d first met his adopted father roughly four years past Kelas’ra had had a mop of black hair with a few silvery white strands near his face. Surprisingly, over the years as they had lived together Teka’a had watched on in curiosity as the man’s hair had continued to lighten from the tips to the roots instead of the other way around, almost as if the color was being sapped away. If it bothered him Kelas’ra said nothing, pretending as if nothing had changed but he did on occasion dye it back to its natural color.

He stretched with a loud groan, flexing his shoulders as he reassembled his bun, turning with a bright smile, his bi-colored eyes wide and practically glowing. “So, My Heart, what would you like to do first? Shall we explore the beaches or perhaps trek the jungles nearby? Or mahyap a trip to cool off under the waterfalls?”

“I’d like to go home.” Teka’a murmured before he could stop himself, internally wincing as Kelas’ra’s smile faltered, his ears drooping downwards. 

“Oh…” He said softly. “Well…soon, then. The Respite sent us off for the week, so we might as well enjoy it while we can.”

The two sat in an awkward silence as Teka’a chewed on his lip, glancing to his bag on the bed. It contained the tome he had been reading, though he was nearly finished. He had been on a kick recently learning about astrology and the histories behind it, which was primarily the reason he was so frustrated about leaving Ishgard. Having befriended some of the astrologians at the Athenaeum Astrologicum he’d been enraptured listening to them speak, picking their brains about theories and various questions. They had been enamored with the strange Miqo’te boy with the insatiable thirst for knowledge and humored him, treating him like a student himself or perhaps more like page, occasionally sending him out on errands across the city in exchange for more secretive lessons. He loved it and was eager to continue but right in the middle of his studies Kelas’ra had whisked him away without so much as a warning.

He watched his father continue to deflate before him, pouting. It was pitiful, really, though it did fill him with a pang of guilt. After all, Kelas’ra worked nonstop; from the commissions and workload he still took on from the carpentry guild in Gridania to his status as foreman of several worksites across Ishgard to cooking for not only the Respite nearly every day but also bringing spare meals to the orphanages and those living in the Brume, it was any wonder how in the world he stayed on his feet. If anybody needed a vacation it would certainly be him.

And Teka’a was ruining it.

Not everything is about you, you idiot. The boy chided himself, pulling off his tunic and replacing it with a thin linen top with the sleeves cut off. Doing the same with his thick trouser and replacing them with a lighter linen pair of shorts he crossed the room to where Kelas’ra tinkered with some bottles in his travel bag, the clicking of the glass sharp and loud in the silent hut.

“Maybe…” He began, causing Kelas’ra to turn. “...we can go to the beach? I’ve never really seen it in person, you know.”

The Corvosi man’s face lit up, grinning excitedly. “A great choice! Let us go before we lose the best sunlight!”

----

The longer they stayed out there, Teka’a hated to admit it but the locale was growing on him. He had been lukewarm on the idea of lingering at the beach for a full week but the more they ran around and explored the more fun he had begun to have. 

Kelas’ra was surprisingly knowledgeable about how to live off the land, teaching Teka’a how to set traps and helped him practice with his bow, adjusting his stance and wincing when he would get hit with string-slap. He would tell him stories of Corvos and of the time he lived on the road, traveling to the technicolor wonder that was Radz-at-Han before coming to Eorzea, stories that danced in Teka’a’s eyes much like the flames of their fires at night, huddled together in the hut or along the beach while Kelas’ra expertly cooked the fish and other things they had caught during the day.

As they grew closer and closer Teka’a had come to realize there was a lot he didn’t know about his adopted father and felt a bit sheepish that he had never asked the man about all of this before. He learned that he loved birds of all kinds, Hamsa of course being his favourite and the flock they had raised when he was a boy himself. He learned that Kelas’ra had gotten the scar across his jaw from a drunken barfight as a teenager whereas the large scar over his blue eye was a mystery, something he didn’t remember receiving. He learned that he was the youngest of his family and the shortest by a far margin and that his red eye had been a source of contempt and fear for him growing up. All manners of things, Teka’a listened in rapt attention, always curious, always asking just one more question.

They climbed all over the cliffs in their time at Costa del Sol, exploring caves and grottos and valleys long untouched. They climbed the waterfall and slid down the rockface, holding onto each other while screaming and laughing as they careened over the edge and into the ice cold water pools below. If there was a way to reach it, they explored it, staying out till the sun fell beneath the waves and then they danced along the beaches, Kelas’ra singing traditional Corvosi songs, his gentle honeyed voice rising and crashing with the waves around them.

In short: it truly was paradise and despite the fact he hadn’t wanted to enjoy his time here, Teka’a soon found himself dreading the day they needed to leave.

He sat on the beach the final night, huddled in a tight ball near the fire they had built with dry tinder and sticks. The waves were calm, lapping softly at the shore as he rubbed his sunburnt arms, feeling the heat rising from his skin.

“One for you!” Kelas’ra’s singsong voice wafted on the breeze as he reached out and took the skewer covered in various tropical fruits that had been slathered with a palm sugar syrup before thrust into the fire, charring them and causing the syrup to solidify and crack. “And one for me.” The man sat at his side with a grunt, biting into a chunk of pineapple with a pleased moan, eyes closed in bliss. Teka’a nibbled his own skewer, enjoying the sweet yet smoky flavors.

“So, was it as bad as you thought it would be?” His father asked slyly, bumping his shoulder against the boy’s. “For one who was so doom and gloom at the start you seemed to have enjoyed yourself. Even if it was just to make me feel better.”

“Yeah yeah…” The tween smirked, bumping him back. “Sorry I was such a jerk to you earlier. I was so caught up in my studies I didn’t realize you needed a break. It won’t happen again.”

“No need to apologize.” Kelas’ra sat back with a whimsical look, eyes distant as he stared out across the water, stars reflecting down below. “I know you enjoy learning about magick, though I don’t quite understand it myself, what with my err…aether sickness and all.”

He rummaged around for a moment before procuring a small wrapped object, rectangular but rather heavy, setting it in Teka’a’s lap. The boy stared at it before peering up at him with a confused expression.

“Well, go on.” Kelas’ra waved with a laugh. “Open it up! I’ve kept it hidden this whole time.”

Teka’a ran his hands over the object, pulling at the silk cloth that wrapped it, a Hannish design painted into the fibers. As the cloth fell away he remained dumbstruck as the light caught the metal clasps of the massive tome in his hands. It was a gorgeous thing, made of heavy archaeornis leather and rose gold filigree, a metal clasp keeping the golden gilded pages bound tightly.

“I’ve been working on this for a while now.” Kelas’ra beamed, his ears flicking happily, moonsilver hair swirling on the breeze. “I’m quite proud of it, actually. It’s a grimoire for your studies with notes and encouragement from those who have taught you. The scholars at the Astrologicum, the Inquisitors, even those conjurers in Gridania that you pester when we go home. I traveled around and asked them if they would be willing and each said yes.”

Teka’a was stunned silent, lifting the clasp and flipping through the tome to see various messages and even schematics from his teachers and acquaintances. He explored the pages until he returned to the beginning of the book where a simple message had been scrawled in small yet elegant handwriting, the language unknown to him.

“What’s this?” He pointed to it, confused. “What does this say?”

Smiling warmly Kelas’ra took his finger and ran it over the text. “This is my message to you.” He said softly, turning to the boy. “It’s in Corvosi as I still haven’t quite mastered literacy in Eorzean. I’ll translate it for you.”

Teka’a followed his hand as he spoke, heart thumping in his ears. 

“Congratulations on your thirteenth name day, My Heart. You are my guiding star, my blinding sun, my shining moon. You are the driving force that keeps me striving to be a better me, even when you make me want to pull my hair out. I know we have only known each other for a handful of years but you are more precious to me than any treasure or jewel or gem. I hope this book will bring you joy throughout the years and never stop being who you are. I love you.  --Papa.”

It was his Name Day, he’d completely forgotten. 

Feeling his shoulders trembling he peered up at his father, Kelas’ra’s grin still wide and gentle. “Happy Name Day, My Heart.” He repeated, pulling him close. “I hope this was memorable. And I hope we are to have many many more together.”

“Right back at you.” Sniffling, he clutched the book tight and leaned into the one armed hug, the both of them silently watching the waves crashing along the shore, the stars shimmering like spun glass in the cloudless sky. “Next time though, I get to choose where we go.”

“That’s fair.” Kelas’ra laughed once more. “Next time, then. Next time.”

[scuttling]

Vacation (All I Ever Wanted)

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 11,425 (Broken into 3 chapters on A03) Tags: SFW, Pre-relationship, Getting together, Vacation, Dancing, Drinking, Flirting, Pining, Minor pre-relationship Morgan/Garcia Summary: The team takes a much needed vacation, and things between Sophie and Aaron heat up. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 1 year-1 year 3 mo at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below!

Friday It’s Garcia’s idea for the team to go to Virginia Beach for the weekend, everyone stressed out from the work week and in desperate need of some fun. Hotch and Gideon initially decline—it sounds like a bit too much fun, a young person’s trip—but Sophie announces “if everyone doesn’t go, no one goes,” and that kind of makes the decision for them.

They pile into two cars—Hotch, Gideon, Reid, and Sophie in one and Morgan, Garcia, Prentiss, and JJ in the other—to make the three hour drive on a Friday afternoon, and Gideon calls in a favor from a friend and gets them a beautiful house on the beach for the weekend.

“So after we get settled in, what’s next?” Prentiss asks as they unload the cars, their usual go-bags abandoned in favor of normal luggage.

“Dinner! Please say dinner,” Sophie pleads, and Emily pats her on the head affectionately.

“Okay, little one, dinner it is.”

“I know a great place down the boardwalk with plenty of options for vegetarians,” Garcia states, heels clicking on the tile of the kitchen, and the plans kind of evolve from there. Everyone heads to their rooms to change from work clothes to more appropriate attire, and soon they’re mostly gathered in the kitchen, just waiting for the stragglers.

Sophie, he notices (can’t help but notice anymore, and he’s come to terms with that,) looks incredibly beautiful in a silky, tropical print sundress and nude heels; she belongs in this kind of environment, salt air blowing her hair, slight flush on her cheeks. She looks like a goddamn supermodel, and it only serves to make his heart ache that much more when he looks at her.

“We should go dancing after dinner,” JJ, the last to join the group, mentions, and almost everyone agrees. Gideon grumbles something like, ‘damn kids’ as they file out of the house, and Hotch can’t help but laugh.

They find an Italian restaurant everyone can agree on that can accommodate them on short notice, and they’re seated quickly; Sophie is swiftly pacified by a basket of bread and a glass of wine, and everyone is happy, laughing, just as intended.

“What is calamari, again? I know it’s some type of disgusting seafood,” Garcia says, looking over the menu with a grimace, and Sophie returns the expression.

“Calamari, my dear, is Italian for squid.” She makes a fake retching noise, then turns to her partner. “Dr. Reid, give us a fun fact about squid.”

“While often confused with the octopus, squid have eight legs plus two tentacles, which actually makes them Decapods. The tentacles are used to grab prey and the legs are used to control it.” He smiles, looking pleased that he was asked to give a piece of trivia about something unrelated to a case, and Sophie grins back.

“Thank you. I didn’t know about the tentacles.” She tilts her head to look back to her menu, but catches Hotch’s eye and smiles.

He’s a little proud that he managed to pick the perfect partner for Reid, even if it meant the position was vacant for longer than he would have liked; he truly can’t imagine the BAU without Sophie, even if he is a bit biased now.

After dinner, Gideon retires back to the house, and the rest of them make their way to a beachside bar JJ finds with good reviews. Everyone is about two drinks in, and everyone but Hotch is dancing: Morgan and Garcia are dancing together, JJ and Prentiss are dancing together, and Sophie is doing her best to teach Reid how to dance.

“Put your right hand here,” she guides, placing his hand on her slim waist, “none of the hand-on-butt most guys prefer.”

“There’s something to be said for hand-on-butt,” Morgan shouts over the noise, and the girls laugh.

“Yes, there is, but time and place. I’m teaching him how to dance; someone else is going to have to teach him that.” She smiles up at him and takes his other hand, clasps their fingers together, and holds their arms out a bit. “Arms like this for now, or a little closer when you get closer to your partner.” She demonstrates by hovering her hand over his chest. “If they do this, they're getting comfortable, you can lean a little closer. Might even be a good time for a kiss, if you think it’s heading that way.”

“How do I know if it’s heading that way?”

“Well, social cues and body language are important. If I were you, I’d observe the other people in this room. Personally, if I want to kiss someone, I can’t take my eyes off of them leading up to it. Either their eyes, or, you know. Their lips.” Her own turn up in a smile. “If they're looking at your lips, you should probably kiss them.”

She rests her hand lightly on his arm, just above his elbow, and they take a few steps, a smile and kind words of encouragement passing her lips. “That’s good. I know you’re nervous now, but when you’re dancing with someone you really like, it will feel more natural. Like you’re the only two people in the whole world.” They take a few turns around the floor, and then switch partners, Garcia with JJ, Morgan with Sophie, Prentiss with Reid.

A bit of time passes—team members have come to the table to rest, hydrate, drink, in shifts—and then Sophie heads toward him, shaking her head with a soft laugh.

“That kid is so smart about most things, and then just hopeless about others,” she tells him as she stands at his side, taking a sip of water. “Don’t you like to dance?”

“I do, but you guys are having your fun. I don’t mind keeping an eye on things.” She raises an eyebrow, takes the beer out of his grasp and then takes his hand, pulling him to the dance floor. She catches Reid’s attention and then points to the table they abandoned.

“Will you keep an eye on the drinks, please? Hotch is off duty.” He nods seriously, hops off the stool he’s perched on and heads for the table; Hotch makes a noise of protest.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“He’s observing, he can do that from over there. You aren’t our unit chief right now, you’re a man on vacation, and if you like dancing, you should dance.” She stops, stands in front of him, looking a little deflated. “I’m sorry. Do you want to dance with me? I’m being overbearing.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he says honestly, with a smile, and she returns the gesture. He places his hand carefully on her waist, takes her hand just like she’d shown Reid earlier; she lays her left arm along his, hand at his shoulder, and they move easily, smoothly across the floor. “Where did you learn how to dance? You seem like a good teacher,” he says softly after a moment, fearful that he’ll break the bubble they’re in if he speaks any louder.

“My aunt owned a dance studio, and my cousin Damian and I were always getting thrown in to demonstrate when she was short handed. I taught a couple classes there while I was putting myself through school.” A couple passes by them, closer than it seems either of them are comfortable with, and they squeeze a little closer together, his hand wrapping across her back, their arms tucking in.

“What kind of dancing do you do?”

“Mostly waltz, rumba, salsa. You?” He’s heard of waltz, salsa, doesn’t know much about rumba, but can imagine she looks graceful, gorgeous, when she dances it.

“Mostly just this. Do you ever go dancing back at home?”

“Sometimes. It’s hard without a partner, because guys can be creeps. They think that dancing means you have to go home with them.” He’s sure his eyes harden, thinking about what men must put her through when she’s just trying to enjoy herself, other women as well. It’s one of many things that irritates him about his gender. “I know dancing with a partner is sexy, but I can separate the dancing from the sexy. When I want to.” She glances up at him, and he’s probably imagining it, but it seems like she might be looking at his lips.

The song ends, transitions into one that’s slower, and they get a little closer, so that her hand presses against his chest, her head almost resting against his shoulder. She feels so good in his arms, smells like heaven, and he would love nothing more than to stay like that all night, but by the end of the song most of the others are back at the table, looking a little faded, and he supposes this good thing must come to an end. As if she senses the shift in his mood, she steps back with a smile.

“Thank you for dancing with me. You’re a great partner.”

“Better than Reid?” he asks with a smile, though it’s all in fun; he’s happy he got to see the youngest agent let loose for once.

“Yes. No offense to him,” she tacks on, and they both laugh softly, “but I like a man who can lead.” He wants to keep her hand in his, to lead her back to the table with their friends, to the house, to her room, but he knows it’s not wise, or even possible, so he lets her walk ahead and tries not to get too caught up in his own mind. They walk back to the house as a group, laughing and bantering as usual, and mostly everyone heads straight to bed—with the exception of Derek and Sophie, who are chatting in the kitchen and making a late-night PB&J.

“I can’t believe you got the boss man dancing,” Derek says, pouring a glass of milk to go with his sandwich, and Sophie laughs softly.

“I practically forced him to, I wouldn’t read that much into it.” He cocks a brow.

“I don’t know, you two looked pretty cozy. Dancing around like you didn’t have a care in the world.” He mimics a waltzing hold, spinning around the kitchen with his eyes closed; she laughs, a little shy, then tries to make a joke of it to hide her emotion.

“What can I say, I’ve got chemistry with everyone; it's a blessing and a curse.” He gestures between them with the hand not holding his glass.

“You and I don’t have that kind of chemistry.”

“That’s because you’re sharing all yours with Penelope,” she teases, taking a bite of her sandwich, and he chuckles.

“That’s just me and my girl. You know how we are.”

“Yes, I do: deeply in denial.” He looks at her with serious eyes, pointing at her, then himself, when he speaks again.

“Pot, kettle.”

“I’m not in denial about anything, trust me,” she replies, looking down at her plate. “I am very aware of my feelings at all times.”

“Okay, so there are feelings.” She rolls her eyes lightly.

“I’m not a robot, I have feelings.”

“For Hotch?” he asks, and the question is far too direct for her liking. She sighs.

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. He’s still my boss. So don’t go trying to play Cupid or something.”

“Me? Interfere with your social life?” She scoffs, and he grins. “I’m just saying. There are ways around the boss thing, if you do have feelings for him.”

“And I’m just saying, it’s totally fine for a special agent to date a technical analyst. You don’t even need a way around it.” She shoots him a toothy, bratty smile, and he messes up her hair, earning a groan.

“Alright, enough of this talk, you’re making me tired.” He rinses his dishes, loads them into the dishwasher. “You wanna get into your feelings later, you let me know.”

“Same goes for you,” she calls as he heads down the hall. She cleans up her dishes too, walks to her room, sighing when she passes Hotch’s door. Saturday “She’s a masochist,” Garcia says the next morning, sipping a cup of coffee and looking out the open kitchen window, and Hotch has no idea what she’s talking about, but he has to find out.

He sighs when he sees, should have known that it would be Sophie, bright eyed and bushy tailed even after their late night, doing yoga in the sun on a patch of grass in front of the house. Her outfit is absolutely minuscule—a partially mesh sports bra, teeny tiny, high-waisted spandex shorts—and she’s getting lots of looks from the men on the beach passing by.

“Bitch,” JJ adds, stepping up beside them, sucking on the straw of an iced coffee. “How is she even functional right now?”

“She operates on a different wavelength than the rest of us,” he supplies, as that’s his only guess so far. He runs to stay fit for work and to relieve stress, sure, but he’s not waking up at 6 AM on vacation to do it for fun.

“I think that she feels inadequate sometimes, for being the smallest of us, and that she overcompensates by never letting herself rest. It’s also why she’s so proficient with firearms. If one of us got hurt because someone overpowered her, she wouldn’t let herself live it down.” That’s Reid, and he may have a little partner insight that the rest don’t, but his opinion is probably correct. Hotch also knows that she’s hard on herself, constantly training her mind and body so she won’t make mistakes; it’s probably something they should discuss more, now that he thinks of it.

“That’s deep,” Garcia says, looking over at Reid, and he nods, sips his coffee too.

“She’s very complex, while somehow also being the simplest person to talk to.”

“What are we lookin’ at?” Gideon asks as he sees the line of agents lined up at the window. When he glances out of it, he chuckles, shakes his head, and keeps walking. “Like the energizer bunny, that one. Makes all the rest of us look bad.”

She shifts into a position that makes it look like she’s sitting with her legs crisscrossed, which might not be difficult, except that she’s balanced on her head; Hotch can’t even marvel at the flexibility that takes, too focused on the effort she must be using to maintain the pose.

“God, what am I even looking at, here?” Morgan asks as he joins the group, protein shaker cup in hand. “And you all thought I was bad.”

“At least she’s not running. If she was running, I’d have to kill her,” JJ mumbles, and Garcia smiles.

“Oh she already ran, honey. Came back in to get the yoga blanket thingy. Said running in the sand is, and I quote, ‘such a fun challenge.’”

There are many sounds of disgust from the group, which seems to draw Prentiss out; she squeezes in between them, reaches out to take JJ’s coffee, sipping through the straw, and exhales.

“Yep, I am definitely gay.” She raps on the window, and Sophie turns her head toward them; she squints her eyes at the group, then tips over so that her feet touch the mat, rising to stand in a way that looks much more effortless than it has to be.

“What the hell are you doing, weirdos?”

“We’re not worthy!” Prentiss teases, mock-bowing in her direction and earning a laugh.

“All right, all right, I’m coming in. Freaking voyeurs,” she mumbles, folding up her blanket. “You too, Hotch?” she asks as she enters the house, walking past him, and all he can do is shrug.

“I was just admiring your form, that’s all.” She gives him a look, partially I doubt it and partially something like, I dare you, and he feels himself get a little hot under the collar.

If one look from her is all it takes, then he’s already in way over his head.

...Then comes the bikini.

It’s nothing outrageous, something simple and sporty enough that she plays volleyball with JJ and Morgan and a couple of other people on the beach, but it’s the least he’s ever seen her wear, so his mouth may water, a little bit.

And is it sad that he wishes she'd have asked him for help putting sunblock on her shoulders? Is it creepy? Regardless, she has Morgan rub it in, and then she does him, because—“as my mama says: just because you’re brown doesn't mean you can clown around.”

“Oh my god, I can already tell I will love your mom. I have to meet her.” She rubs the sunblock into his shoulders, earning playful banter from Garcia about running your hands all over my man, and yes, Hotch is irrationally jealous, and yes, he knows it’s stupid. “Anyone else need some?” She scans the group—Garcia is under an umbrella and clearly plans to stay there, JJ and Prentiss shared some cream that helps you tan faster, Gideon is already fast asleep beneath an umbrella of his own—and shakes the bottle at Reid. “Gonna take off your shirt, doc?”

“I’m gonna pass, but thanks,” he tells her, clearly a little self-conscious, and she just smiles easily.

“Okay, well let me know if you change your mind.” She turns to Hotch, then, smile still broad, runs her eyes up and down his t-shirt before meeting his gaze. “How about you, boss? Do you wanna take that off for me?” Her brow is quirked, her look again sending a flash of arousal through him, and he just shakes his head; he can’t say for certain that he wouldn’t do something very stupid with her hands on his body. “Alright. If you change your mind, my offer stands.” She turns away, and Morgan says something to her, too low for Hotch to hear; it earns him a playful shove.

They stay on the beach until late afternoon, swimming or reading, playing frisbee or sunbathing, and anything and everything in between. He takes a moment to check his work email when he thinks no one is paying attention, but soon feels a cool drop of water land on his arm; he looks behind him, and Sophie is peering over his shoulder with wet hair and a frown.

“Are you incapable of relaxing?” she asks, grabbing for his phone, and he pulls it out of her reach, so she’s forced to either put a hand on his shoulder for balance or fall. She reaches again, and they battle back and forth for it, not because he cares as much as he’s enjoying the attention. It’s childish, he knows. “Damn it, Hotch. I’m trying to… help you.” She has her arms on either side of his neck, trying to cut him off and get the phone out of his grasp, and her mouth is right at his ear when she says, “I’m going to get you to loosen up if it kills me.”

The comment is both very sweet and very tempting, and he catches her wrist, presses his phone into her palm. She disengages her arms from around his neck and sinks down into the sand next to him; she’s flushed from the little bit of exertion, and her eyes are soft when they peer into his.

“I just want you to have a good time and not worry about the BAU for once in your life,” she murmurs, pushing her hand through her wet hair. “Or you’re going to die young from stress and I’ll feel a little bad I didn’t stop it.”

“Just a little bad?” he teases, and she rolls her eyes playfully.

“I’ll feel really bad, so, just. Cut it out. Read your book. People watch. Do anything but work.” With a soft smile, she leans closer, hands him back his phone. “For me?” He looks into her eyes, wants to tell her he would do anything for her, but instead, he nods.

“Okay. For you.” Her returning smile is brilliant, and she rests a hand on his shoulder for a moment before using it to boost herself up to standing. She brushes sand off her butt, and he can’t be blamed for looking, he just can’t.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come swim?” she asks, and he blinks back into focus, shakes his head.

“Maybe later. I think I’m going to people watch,” he says, and if she is the person he chooses to watch, well. No one will be any the wiser.

“Sophie, oh my god.” She turns at the sound of her name, slipping the back onto her earring and staring at Emily with a confused look.

“What did I do?” she asks seriously. All she’s actually done since they came in from the beach was eat a grilled cheese, take a quick shower (daydreaming, just a little, about what it would have been like if Hotch let her rub sunscreen onto his shoulders), and get dressed, so there’s literally no way she’s earned the tone.

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen Hotch since he changed.” Her eyes glaze over as she imagines it—maybe he’s wearing a button-up shirt like last night, the sleeves rolled up, or maybe he opted for another thin, faded t-shirt like the one he wore to the beach…

“Uh, no, I haven’t. But what does that have to do with me?”

“You’ll see,” is all she says, grinning, and Sophie wonders for a moment if she’s actually not being that sneaky about her thing for him, and if everyone knows. Morgan’s inferences are bad enough.

She shakes the thought, because if the whole team did know about her crush, she would know about it. She’d never be able to live it down, and she would definitely know about it.

She finishes getting ready, sees what all the fuss is about when she enters the kitchen and is faced with a broad back with a blue polo stretched across it—the same shade of blue as the patterned dress she’s wearing.

She groans. They’re definitely gonna make a big deal about this.

“I say we make a break for it,” she says, and he turns at the sound of her voice, looks her up and down, and smiles crooked, gorgeous. “They’re going to make us take a picture, and I know how you hate pictures.”

“I do hate pictures, but maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll make it onto your dresser.” She takes a good, long look at his body—the polo is tight, hinting at his pecs, his stomach, and his arms look amazing—and can’t help but flirt a little.

“Are you just trying to get invited back into my bedroom? ‘Cause all you had to do was ask, Hotch.” His eyes get dark, smoldering, and then JJ and Garcia walk in, talking over each other and demanding photographic evidence.

She rolls her eyes lightly, and so does he, but he puts his hand on her back, pulls her close, and they smile for the camera. That night, they go for dinner, and drinks, but no dancing, and Hotch feels at a bit of a loss; it had been so nice to dance with Sophie, to hold her in his arms however briefly. He had kind of been hoping for more of the same.

She wears another lovely dress, light and gauzy, and blue—the same color as his shirt, which makes for a slight moment of hysteria from their coworkers—and he longs to put his hands on her waist, to see her smile, to smell her perfume.

He briefly wonders if he will ever get over wanting what he can’t have.

Hotch goes to the bar to grab a round of drinks when it’s his turn, and an attractive blonde woman about his age makes small talk, which escalates to some mild flirting; she smiles at him in a way that makes him think that, if he had been looking to spend the night with a woman, he wouldn’t have had to look very far. He’s not sure why that makes him uncomfortable.

The bartender is obviously swamped, and he’s thinking about giving up and going back to the table just to get away from the woman’s eyes, her voice, when warm hands wrap around his bicep.

“There you are, honey. I’m glad I found you.” Sophie wedges in between them, not sparing the woman a second glance, all eyes on him. “Drinks going to take a while?”

“Yeah, I think they’re understaffed. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” He wraps his arm around her back, pulling her close, and she touches his chest softly with her palm.

“No problem. You know I’d wait forever for you.” She smiles brightly up at him, and the woman mumbles something unkind, throws down a few bills, and walks away. Sophie laughs, but doesn’t put any distance between them. “It looked like you needed a save. I hope I didn’t misread the situation.”

“You absolutely did not misread,” he assures with a shake of his head. “She would have eaten me alive if you hadn’t come along.”

“It’s a good thing I’m here, then. To protect your virtue.” She runs both hands down his chest—keeping up appearances in case the woman is watching, he assumes—and it prompts him to lean closer to her.

“I’m glad you’re here for more than that reason,” he says, however foolishly, and she sighs softly, pulls back so she’s not in his easy grasp.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…” She walks away from him quickly, and he doesn’t reach for her arm, knows she doesn't like that, but he does follow her out to the balcony. The night is warm, with a cool breeze, and it blows her hair as she looks out at the water.

“I’m sorry I said that.” He puts his hands on the railing, and she looks over at him, curiously. “I say more than I should around you, and there’s no excuse.” She turns to face him fully, arms crossed, face closed off and hard to read.

“Did you mean it, though? Did you mean it when you kissed my head and told me to let someone into my life? Did you mean it when you said you want to be here for me, and you wiped away my tears? Did you mean it when you were watching me do yoga this morning, when you watched me play volleyball in a bikini?” He opens his mouth to speak, but can’t find the words to deny it, or to help solve this problem.

“Yes, I meant all of that, and I realize now that what I thought was harmless was not so harmless after all.”

“You realize that because you know I felt led on? Or because you were just having fun and you didn’t expect me to pay such close attention?”

“You felt led on? I…” He feels his face scrunch in confusion.

“You told me I was amazing, you held my face in your hands, you pretended to be my boyfriend at the pizza shop. You came upstairs with me on my birthday and you took off my shoes and you looked at me like you wanted to kiss me. And I showed you my family, and you looked at me like you wanted to kiss me. And we danced, closer than I danced with Reid, closer than I would dance with anyone else, and you looked at me like you wanted to kiss me. This morning, I felt your eyes on me; at the beach, I felt your eyes on me. I feel them all the time, and I thought it was wishful thinking, but now I know it’s you looking.” His mouth goes dry, and he pushes a hand through his hair, feels as if walls are crashing down around him.

“Sophie, I can’t apologize enough. I’ve been behaving inappropriately for a while, and this weekend I let my guard down, and I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” He looks over at her, ready to see rage, or hurt, but all he sees is… hope.

“I’m not uncomfortable, Hotch. I just need you to tell me that you said and did all those things because you want me. Not because you thought I wanted to hear them, or because you felt some... I don’t know, little sister affection for me.”

“I didn’t say anything because I thought you wanted to hear it, and believe me, what I feel for you… It’s not little sister affection.” He looks into her eyes, apologetic. “I should have come to you when I realized my feelings were becoming inappropriate.”

“Hotch, I’m trying to tell you,” she says softly, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, “that it’s not inappropriate for you to want me, because I want you too.” His mind goes blank at that, the potential panic attack falling away and leaving him with just… what?

“You, what?”

“All of those things... I felt you getting closer to me, and I was getting closer to you. I was looking, too. And when you told me I should let someone in, when you told me that I should start dating again, I thought you were saying you wanted it to be us.” He takes a step toward her, wants to take her face in his hands again but resists, for the time being. “Is that what you were saying? Is that what you want?”

“I—yes. That’s what I want.” It’s all he wants, can’t think of a single thing in his life he’s wanted more, and the look on her face makes him think he might actually be able to have it.

“Then kiss me,” she murmurs, taking a step toward him. Her eyes are warm and clear, sparkling in the moonlight. “If you mean it.”

He slips his arm around her waist, caresses her cheek, and pulls her close for a deep, slow, passionate kiss. It’s everything he imagined, everything he’s been wanting, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulls him closer yet. She is soft against his body, beneath his hands, and they kiss for so long he forgets about the world around them, just sinks his fingers in her hair, breathes in the scent of sunscreen and coconut shampoo, relishes the feel of her soft lips against his. It’s absolute heaven.

“I haven’t been able to think of anything but kissing you all night,” she breathes when they break apart, wetting her lips, and her hands run over his chest again. He leans in for a soft, quick kiss, pushing her hair behind her ear, and smiles down at her.

“I don’t think I’ve thought of anything else for months,” he confides, touching her chin. She smiles brightly, just like he’d hoped she would, and she puts her hands on his arms, bites her bottom lip.

“Well, I’ve thought of a lot of things. Some had to do with these arms…” Her eyes rake over his chest and shoulders, and he feels himself heat under her gaze. “Most of them have to do with all of you, though.” He groans, pulls her closer with hands on her hips.

“If we weren’t here with the rest of the team…” Her eyes get wide, and she laughs, a short sound of surprise.

“Oh my god, I forgot. I well and truly forgot about the rest of them for a second.” He thrills at that, bends for another lengthy kiss, and her eyes are dark when he pulls back.  “How am I supposed to go the rest of the night pretending I don’t know how well you kiss?” she asks, chest heaving, and all he wants to do is kiss her, repeatedly, learn all the ways her body responds to it. “Oh I know: I’m going to get drunk and hope no one notices me staring at your mouth. Worked on my birthday.”

He grins at the thought of her, then, now, drunk and looking at him across the table, watching him, and presses his lips to hers softly. Now that he’s started, he can’t seem to get enough.

“Okay. I’ll stay sober in case you need me to carry you home.”

“Mmm, why do I love the sound of that so much?” she asks no one in particular, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. “I feel obligated to say we should get back in there; it’s only a matter of time until someone comes looking for us. But…” She trails off, brings a hand to his face and sighs, content. “I’m happy right here and I don’t want to leave this spot.”

“Me too.” He kisses her, and her fingers glide through his hair, tugging softly, making him moan. “Okay, we really better go in now, because I could lose track of everything if you keep doing that.” She smiles, like she likes the thought of making him lose his mind, and he can’t help but return the expression. “Do you want to go in first?”

“No, we can go in together. I got this, promise.” She takes his hand, presses her lips to it, and then drops it, and they head back to the table.

“Where have you two been?” Prentiss asks as they return, and Sophie smiles happily.

“Needed fresh air. Why, did you miss me?”

“Yes, but we also missed our drinks. Sent Reid for them when we realized you two had run off.” Sophie’s face falls a little, eyes a bit sad.

“I’m sorry, that’s my fault. I was upset about something and Hotch went outside with me, helped me talk through it. I’m okay now,” she adds with a brighter expression when it looks like they want to ask about it. It's not technically a lie, either. “So what are we talking about?”

“We’re talking about the craziest thing we’ve ever done,” Morgan says with a teasing grin. “Let me guess, yours is: returned a library book late.” She shoots him an unamused glare.

“Joke’s on you, I would never return a library book late.” The table erupts in laughter, and she sips at her now watered down gin and tonic. “But you’ve made your point, I’m boring. I’m sure you had a threesome with twins and JJ fought a bear in the woods of Pennsylvania and Emily followed The Cure on tour across the country.”

“I did not do that, but trust me, young Emily wishes she had,” Prentiss says with a grin and a sip of her drink. “Mine was going to a rave in Paris that was busted, running from the cops.”

“Okay I’m sorry, that’s way cooler than the Cure thing. What about you, JJ?”

“I played chicken a lot when I was a teenager. Like in Footloose,” she describes, laughing. “Probably should have died, but the dumb boys always got scared first and I won.”

“Chicken champion,” Morgan calls her, making her dissolve into laughter. “Mine was stealing a car, going on a joyride. Only time I’ve ever broken 100 miles per hour.”

“You’re all criminals, I get it now. No wonder you think I’m so boring,” Sophie teases. “You guys?” she asks Reid and Garcia. Garcia grins.

“I hacked the FBI, remember? Doesn’t get much crazier than that.”

“I went skydiving,” Reid says simply, and Sophie is surprised, to say the least. Hotch is too.

“Skydiving! Spencer Reid, you’re holding out on us. When was this?”

“When I turned 21, I wanted to do something special, so I just decided one day. I went by myself. It was terrifying.”

“Wow, I may never get over this. That is so cool.” She leans across the table, bumps her fist with his. When she leans back in her seat, she looks to Hotch with curious eyes. “Alright, I know you’ve got a story. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

“I haven’t done many crazy things,” he begins honestly. “I guess the craziest would be backpacking in Europe by myself, on a whim. I’d just graduated high school and was feeling… afraid of the future, I suppose. I was only gone two months, but I did feel different when I came back.”

“Okay, that’s crazy to me. I’ve definitely never had the guts.”

“I can totally see young Hotch backpacking through Europe,” Garcia adds, and he smiles.

“It was stupid, but I met a lot of interesting people. You really haven’t done anything crazy?” he asks Sophie, who has seemed a little reserved the last few minutes, so different from the girl on the balcony.

“Nope. No crimes, no drugs, no underage drinking or fights or spontaneous trips anywhere. I went to school, went to work, went home, and when I was done with school, I went to work and went home.” She twirls the straw in her glass for a moment, and then sits up with a smile. “Oh, wait. I have something. This may not seem that cool to you guys, but walking home one day in Chicago, I saw a flyer for a band that needed a singer, so I tried out. That was pretty spontaneous.”

“Did they like you?” Reid asks, and she nods excitedly.

“Yeah, actually. I ended up singing for them for about a year before I left Chicago.”

“Okay, you were in a band for a year and didn’t think you had any fun stories to share,” Prentiss clarifies. “That’s awesome.”

“We need to hear you sing,” Hotch tells her seriously, and she gets shy, blushes, adorable.

“Ah, no. Maybe back home—my friend owns a bar, and I sing there sometimes. Karaoke or open mic.”

“I learned two things about you tonight, Cortes: you sing, and you have a friend besides us.” Sophie smacks Morgan’s shoulder, making him laugh.

“Well I prefer quality over quantity—yourself excluded.” He feigns hurt, puts his hand over his heart. “And on that note, I need a couple shots. I’m not nearly as drunk as I want to be.” She stands, puts her hand on the back of Hotch’s chair. “Want to try again?” He does, if only to spend a few minutes with her away from the group, stands up and walks beside her to the bar.

“You don’t have to do crazy things to be interesting, you know,” he tells her as they lean companionably against the bar, waiting for their drinks. “I find you very interesting exactly the way you are.” She smiles, a tender, private thing.

“Thank you. I’m glad you do. I find you interesting, too. I want to know what makes you tick; I think I spend too much time trying to figure you out, actually. I’m surprised no one has noticed.”

“I’m simple. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“That will be a long conversation for another time, believe me.” She shifts closer, so their arms are pressed together, and it shouldn’t feel as good to him as it does, her warm skin against his. “I want to know everything there is to know about Aaron Hotchner.”

“And I want to tell you,” he assures her, wants to put his arm around her back, but knows their friends are watching them closely this time. He thinks maybe they’ve noticed more than she believes.

Their drinks are ready much faster this time, and when they return to the table she hands out shots to those who want them while he hands out other drinks to those who don’t. She takes two shots in succession, and he smiles to himself, thinking of her earlier plan.

“You’re crazy, I love Julia Roberts,” Prentiss says about an hour later, when those drinking to get drunk have already done so, and then some. “She’s America’s sweetheart, she’s so beautiful.”

“Okay but we’re talking your dream celebrity hook up,” Morgan clarifies. “You’re telling me Julia Roberts is your dream hook up?”

“Yes. She made me feel things in Pretty Woman, with those long legs in the tub?”

“Yes, the tub,” Sophie agrees, and when she gets some curious looks, she sighs. “It’s stupid to assume everyone is straight all the time, and no one ever asked. I swing all ways, as in, even though I don’t date and haven’t had sex with anyone but myself in far too long to admit to, I like to look at everybody.” She’s moved closer to him in the last hour, and her thigh presses purposefully up against his. “Some people more than others.”

“Oh, we know we’ve gotten Sophie drunk if she’s talking about her sex life,” JJ teases.

“I’m never shy about my sex life, it’s my love life I don’t tell you about, because it’s practically non-existent.”

“And whose fault is that? You’ve been hung up on someone we know nothing about for months. Make a move or move on.”

“I’m working on it. Bossy,” she mutters, presses her thigh against his again. He wants to grab it, pull her legs into his lap, but knows he can’t get away with it. “Hotch, tell her to leave me alone.”

“JJ, leave her alone,” he says just to make Sophie smile; she does, and JJ sticks her tongue out at her.

“Okay, boss’s pet.”

That shouldn’t send a thrill through him, but it does, affects Sophie, too, if the straightening of her spine is any indication. As quickly as it happened, she slumps against the table, chin in her hand. He wonders why, but then her other hand moves to his leg, and he thinks maybe she did it to provide some cover. Clever girl.

“I want to be home. Home home, my own private home, not a house I share with all of you,” she murmurs, and Reid frowns.

“Why? Aren’t you having fun?”

“I am having fun! I am. But it would be different fun. I’ll explain it when you’re older.” Hotch can’t help himself, chuckles at that, and Sophie looks over at him, smiles. “Are we calling it a night? If I get any drunker I’m going to get into trouble.” They share eye contact that probably lasts a beat too long, and he covers her hand with his under the table.

“It’s probably for the best. Do you need me to carry you?”

“No, I’m okay,” she says, standing, and as everyone else gathers their stuff, she stoops under the guise of fixing her shoe, presses a hand to his shoulder for support, and speaks into his ear. “But keep in mind that need and want are two very different things.”

She smirks playfully, and he is so enraptured by her, moves his eyes from her lips to her bare shoulder, strap fallen to the side, wants to kiss her there and slip it back into place; he refrains from the kiss but does hook it with his finger and settle it against her skin, earning a heated look, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

He exhales, thinks to himself how silly it is that his heart is racing from just a few looks, a quick comment, the brush of his hand over her shoulder, but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Heading back to the house is certainly more eventful than the previous night, as Morgan and Garcia giggle about something as she stumbles in her high heels, as JJ and Prentiss take Reid’s arms and link them with theirs for stability. Sophie walks steady, but slow, and Hotch hangs back with her, presses his hand against her lower back when no one is looking.

“I feel like I’m going to wake up in the morning and this will all have been a dream,” she whispers, glancing up at him; he smooths his palm up and down her back, eyes soft as he gazes down at her.

“It does feel like a dream, but nothing changes tomorrow, I promise.” He smiles softly, touches her face before pulling away altogether. “Except you might have a hangover.”

“No, I have foolproof methods. Lots of water before bed and a cup of ginger tea in the morning. I’ll share my methods with you, because I think you’re so cute,” she says with a smile.

“Lucky for me.”

He wants so badly to kiss her goodnight, but of course, they don’t get a chance, someone always hovering by the time they’re ready for bed. He does text her, though, after they go their separate ways.

AH: I’m really glad things happened the way they did tonight. Who knows how long we would have gone on staring silently at each other.

SC: Yeah, we’re pretty dumb for human behavior experts, aren’t we?

SC: I’m going to try to sneak you away tomorrow.

AH: I’ll be waiting. Goodnight.

SC: Goodnight. Sunday Sophie wakes up Sunday at 8:13 feeling like she could walk on air, she’s so happy. She kissed Hotch, Hotch kissed her, there was flirting and touching and it was all intentional and meaningful and magical… She gets a little carried away when she showers, reliving every moment, never so happy she agreed to come on this vacation despite her initial protests that it was too spontaneous.

She knows she needs to liven up a little, do more spontaneous things like go to the beach and kiss her boss and see Europe, go skydiving.

Maybe not the skydiving, but the beach and the boss she can definitely handle. Europe will probably have to wait.

She throws on a swimsuit with a cropped tank top and denim shorts over it and makes for the kitchen to get a cup of tea, smiles when she sees Emily and Garcia there. “Hi ladies. How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead, and now I feel dead,” Garcia grumbles. Emily nods over her cup of coffee.

“I feel like a truck ran over me, backed up, and ran over me again.” Sophie laughs, walks over to the table and sets down her box of tea.

“Have a cup. Cures any ailment, hangovers included, I promise.” Emily glances up, looking suspicious.

“Why are you so chipper? Why aren’t you dead like we are?” She tries not to grin, to be too obvious, but she hasn't been this excited about something in a long time, so it’s hard.

“Mind over matter. Gotta train those brains.” She adds a bit of honey to her tea, stirs it slowly. “It’s a gorgeous day, we have until late afternoon before we need to head back home, we’re having fun. I’m happy.”

“That’s all great stuff, but I can’t focus on it until my eyeballs stop punishing me,” Garcia groans, grabbing the box of tea and heading for the kettle. “Did you meet somebody or something? This is just extreme happiness, even from you. And it’s me who’s saying that.”

“She was with us all night. Well, she wasn’t, but she was with Hotch, so she may as well have been. She didn’t meet anyone.” Oh sweet, brilliant, clueless Emily, Sophie thinks, sitting across from her. She loves when her friends’ brains aren’t firing on all cylinders so she can feel like she has some secrets from them, instead of feeling so exposed all the time.

“Are we making breakfast or going for breakfast? Breakfast will help you guys feel better.”

“Going for breakfast,” Morgan says when he strides into the kitchen behind her. “No yoga this morning? I guess you’re human after all,” he says with a wink, and she just sips her tea because even his teasing isn’t enough to dampen her good mood.

“Takes one to know one. We both have lazy days, we both have feelings—I think we’re getting soft.”

“I’m not,” he says with a grin, lifting his shirt a little just to make Garcia swoon, she’s pretty sure—and it works. “Doesn’t look like you are either, in your little crop top. Trying to impress someone?”

“No, just letting my tummy out, as we all should on vacation. It’s more fun that way.” She drains the rest of her tea and rinses the cup in the sink. “Anyone need a nudge? I’m starving.”

“Haven’t seen JJ or Hotch yet, if you want to check on them,” Emily tells her, and she does grin at that.

“You got it! Hotch and JJ,” she repeats to herself, and she skips JJ’s room to rap on Hotch’s door. He opens it after a moment, looking hotter than should be allowed in a dark blue polo; his eyes roam slowly over her body, which makes her shiver. “Why, good morning, handsome,” she says, low, and he pulls her into his room, shuts the door, and kisses her deeply.

She moans softly in surprise, then weaves her fingers into his hair, stepping backward so she is pressed between the door and his body, which is the stuff of fantasies. His hands feel hot on her waist, his mouth harder than last night, more insistent; she pants for breath when the kiss breaks, runs her hands over his shoulders, pulls him close. “So glad I offered to check on you,” she murmurs, and he smiles softly, presses his mouth to hers again.

“So am I. You look…” He looks her over again, breasts, stomach, legs, back up to her face, wets his lips. “Beautiful doesn’t cover it.”

“Well I’ll take it anyway.” She brings his mouth down to hers for another soft kiss. “I have to check on JJ, but reserve your approval and hopefully we can get a little alone time today.”

“Just one more kiss,” he bargains, smoothing his palm over her throat, and she practically salivates at his touch, would give him anything he asked for. This time it’s a kiss, which is easy enough, and she stretches up on her toes, takes his face in her hands and plants one on him with a soft smack. They both smile. “See you soon.”

“See you soon.” Peeking out into the empty hall, she slips out the door, no one any the wiser, and heads to JJ’s room, pounding on the door with none of the regard she had for Hotch. “Are you up? We’re hungry, come on!” It takes a minute, but JJ pops her head out, hair a mess, eyes tired.

“Make me a coffee. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

“Sure, okay, five minutes though. Hey, do you want my ginger tea? Proven hangover cure, the other girls had some.” She narrows her eyes.

“Tea for now, coffee for the road. Please.” She slams the door, and Sophie laughs to herself, heads to the kitchen, and gets to work. Breakfast is a fun occasion in that everyone leaves the restaurant at least five times happier than when they arrived. Hotch just shakes his head and laughs, glad that his days of drinking to get drunk are over. The team looks rough.

The beach is on the agenda again, and most everyone opts for sunbathing at first, because they’re too full and tired to do anything else. Sophie and Morgan, the two most lively of the bunch, plan to head straight for the water—it’s an activity in itself to watch her strip out of her clothes, baring a little strapless bikini underneath.

Sophie offers to help Morgan with his sunscreen, but Garcia makes a noise of complaint. “Uh uh, my turn,” she says, squeezing some into her palm and handing back the tube. Sophie sighs, looks at JJ like she’s going to ask for help, but Morgan nods in his direction.

“Have Hotch help,” he tells her, and she narrows her eyes at him, gets a raised eyebrow in return. He makes a note to ask what that’s all about, and she looks a little like a deer in the headlights, but she steps over to him because it would be more awkward if she didn't, now.

“You know who to blame for this,” she mutters as she kneels down next to him, hands back the tube of sunblock, and she lifts her hair so he has access to her neck. He has to hold himself back from pressing his lips there, settles for imagining what she’d sound like if he did.

“Or who to thank, depending on how you look at it,” he counters as he rubs the lotion on. He feels the tension in her shoulders slip away as he works it in, the white cream melting into her smooth, brown skin. It’s like her whole body softens at his touch, and he makes a mental note to rub her shoulders often, when he gets the chance, could stand to see her look a little less tense most days. “At least I get to be close to you.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, humming as his hands move down her back. “I’m happy to be close to you too, just don’t need my coworkers watching me get rubbed down by the guy I like.”

“I do like the sound of that.” He presses his fingers against her neck, behind her ears, and she practically purrs at his touch, head tipping to the side. He’d like to spend more time there, it’s clear she enjoys it, but he knows he can’t milk it for too long. He slides his hands away, wipes them on his towel. “All set. My hands are free when you need to reapply.” She turns to face him, looks soft and relaxed and gorgeous, and shoots him a tender smile.

“Thanks. I’m still working on a plan for us, so I’ll be back soon.” She stands, throws the sunscreen at Morgan, and they chase each other into the water.

“Hey, will someone come up to the house with me?” Sophie asks after a while, and pretty much everyone is half asleep—either napping, in a food coma, or something in between—so it’s easy for him to volunteer himself, for them to slip away together. When they’re far enough away from the team’s line of sight, he scoops her up and throws her over his shoulder, earning laughter so hard it leaves her breathless. They make it inside the house, and he sets her down, her cheeks red and smile bright. “I cannot believe you did that,” she says, grabbing his shirt in her hands, and she pulls him close for a kiss that they laugh through, her hands shifting to come up around his neck.

“You were going too slow, I was getting impatient,” he teases, and she kisses him deeper, less playful, more passionate. He wraps his arms around her body, pulls her close, and they fumble toward the living room, collapse into a heap on the couch. They laugh, straighten out so they’re sitting somewhat normally, though very close.

“You’re so good at that, I think I dreamed about it.” She brushes gentle fingers through his hair, puts her legs in his lap just like he thought of doing at the bar, and kisses him softly a couple of times. “This isn’t just because we’re on vacation, right? I mean, tomorrow, when we wake up in our own beds, we’re not just going to pretend none of this happened?” He takes her hand, brings it to his lips, holds it.

“I couldn’t look at you and pretend none of this happened. Never.” He kisses her hand again, and she shifts so that she’s sitting up on her knees, so they can be closer, kiss better, he has to assume. One hand rests against his chest and the other loops around his neck, and they kiss long, hot, deep, so he has to pull back for breath. “Sophie,” he sighs when they separate, his hand gentle on her face. “I want you to know, I’ve never done this, or even thought about doing this with anyone from work. Not before you.”

“Neither have I. It’s just… you.” She leans in for a softer, sweeter kiss. “What do we do now? I guess, just to clarify: you want to date me, right? You don’t just want sex—I want to be sure we’re on the same page.” He puts his hands on her waist, like he’s holding her steady, looks into her eyes.

“I don’t just want sex. I want to spend time with you outside of the office. I want to take you on dates. I want to learn everything there is to know about you. I want to kiss you…” His eyes drift to her lips, and she leans up, presses them softly to his a couple of times.

“So we’ll need to tell Strauss? Gideon? The team?"

“I’ll tell Strauss, and she’ll change your reporting structure so that you report to Gideon, formally. It won’t change anything in the field, but he will have to be in charge of your performance reviews, psych evals, and future promotions so there’s no conflict of interest.”

“That’s good. I don’t want anyone to think I’ll be treated any differently.” He takes her face in his hands, kisses her slow, and she pulls back periodically to speak. “Not that... I think the team would, but... that’s good.” His lips move down the column of her throat, and she tilts her head, inviting more; her voice gets light and breathy. “Mmm, Hotch.”

He pulls back a little, sure he’s wearing a grimace; something about that, as good as it sounds, just does not rub him the right way.

“I think it might be better if you call me Aaron when we’re not working. It might help, you know, to have a little separation?” She nods, bites at her lip, and leans in for another kiss.

“Yes, that sounds good. I want to call you by your first name, but no one ever does, so I was waiting on you to tell me it was okay.” She brushes the pads of her fingers over his lips, his chin. “Kiss me, Aaron.”

He grins at that, puts his arm behind her and tips them both over so she’s laying under him, soft, sun-kissed, beautiful. She smiles, and he leans in, kisses her throat some more. “You smell so good, always like the beach, but especially now.” He’s pretty much destined to have a Pavlovian response to the smell of coconut and sunscreen, he thinks, but he doesn’t mind at all.

“If only you would take off your shirt and come swimming with us,” she teases, holding tightly to his shoulders, “I could make you smell all beachy too.” She catches his mouth in a kiss, grins against his lips. “Plus it would be nice to ogle you like you’ve been ogling me.” He scoffs, pulling a face.

“I haven’t been ogling you, I’ve been admiring you. There’s a difference.”

“Well in that case, let me admire you,” she coos in his ear, tongue curling over the lobe, and he kisses her deeply.

They are completely lost in each other when someone clears their throat above them, and they freeze; Sophie covers her eyes like it’s not happening if she doesn’t look, but Hotch is resigned to his fate, glances up and sees Gideon not looking very surprised. He doesn’t seem to have an opinion at all, actually, or at least his face doesn’t.

He sits up, pulling her with him, but she still can't look Gideon in the eye. Gideon, for what it’s worth, just nods. “I guess we’ll be going over some things in my office tomorrow,” he says, neutral, and Hotch nods.

“Yes. I’ll—I’ll get with Strauss in the morning.”

“Okay,” is all he says, and he heads down the hall to his room. Sophie groans.

“Okay, so we’ve determined we can’t be sneaky to save our lives.” She looks thoroughly embarrassed, but he just chuckles and pulls her closer, wraps his arms around her in an embrace.

“No, I guess we can’t. You’re too distracting.” She turns back to look at him, nose scrunched adorably.

“I’m too distracting? Compared to you, all on top of me, touching me with those hands?”

“They’re the only hands I’ve got,” he jokes, and she smiles indulgently, like she thinks he’s an idiot but likes him anyway. “We should probably head back anyway. I think we pressed our luck enough for today.” She grins at that, and he feels instantly like he should regret something he said. “What?”

“I’ll go quietly if you come swimming.” She adopts that puppy dog look he’s helpless against, presses her lips to his. “Please. It will be fun.” He sighs like he’s put out, but can’t resist smiling when she breaks into a grin of her own. “Yes! Okay, take off your shirt.”

“Now?” he asks with a laugh. “If we come back from the house and I’m half naked, eyebrows will be raised.”

“Just for a minute,” she explains, tugging at his collar. “I need to admire you before we’re out there so I don’t drool in front of them and embarrass myself.”

“You’re dangerous, you know that,” he says, pulling his polo over his head. “Those eyes could make a man do anything.”

“Well unfortunately for you, you’re the only man I plan to use them on.” She’s smiling, but her expression quickly fades to something more serious, and she flicks her eyes to his, then down his body, back up.

She opens her mouth to speak, decides against it, and leaps at him; he barely gets his arms up in time to catch her, and they almost go crashing back onto the sofa.

“God, you look so good,” she mumbles against his lips, hands in his hair. “I knew you’d be hot under all those suits, and then we got here and you’ve dressed more casually and it’s been just… the best.” She pulls back, runs her hands over all the bare skin she can reach, smiles broadly. “Can’t believe I get to touch you like this.” Slowly, he sweeps his palms over her body, brings her to him for a kiss.

“The feeling is so very mutual.” After another couple of kisses, she jumps out of his arms, hands back his shirt, though it’s clear she doesn’t want to.

“Glad we got that out of the way; I don’t know how the group would have reacted to me tackling you on the beach.”

“With incredulity, I’m sure. I don’t think I exactly fit what people would perceive to be your type.” She rolls her eyes, and they head out the door.

“What people perceive to be my type has nothing to do with me, or you.” She loops her hand loosely around his arm as they walk down to the beach. “And I don’t have a type, so we’re good.” As they get closer to the team, they move farther apart, and he already misses the feel of her skin.

“There you guys are,” JJ says when they approach, holding her hand over her eyes to shield from the sun. “Gideon went back to the house for a while, I’m sure you saw him.”

“We sure did see him,” Sophie says, dropping down onto her towel. “Are you guys alive yet? We’re gonna go swimming.” She scans the group, which is missing a few members. “Where are Morgan and Garcia?”

“Taking a walk,” Prentiss says with a suggestive tone. Hotch sighs, knows that soon enough the suggestive tone will be used at their expense. He wonders if Sophie thought that through, how invasive their friends can actually be. “They’ll be back by lunch, and then I guess it’s back to boring Quantico.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re swimming. Come on.” She stands up, walks backward toward the water with a smile. “Come on, Hotch, you promised.” Reid looks over at him with a curious expression, but he just shrugs and pulls off his shirt.

“I did promise.”

He’s not mad he did, either, because for a while it’s just the two of them, floating companionably in the luxuriously warm water, chatting about nothing, and she’s incredibly gorgeous with wet hair and a smile.

JJ and Prentiss join them eventually, and then there’s splashing, which is less enjoyable, but it’s clear Sophie is happy he agreed to swim, so he can’t find it in himself to be too irritated. They gather back at the house for a quick lunch, and they pack their stuff, load up the cars—this time they are split guys and girls, at JJ’s request.

“Thanks, Gideon, for the house, and Garcia, for the plan,” Prentiss says before they leave. “This was a great idea. Much needed.”

“Best weekend ever,” Sophie agrees, and she smiles softly when he catches her eye.

“That was awesome,” JJ says when they’re on the road. She looks back at Garcia with a grin. “So tell us, did you hook up with Morgan? Is Morcia a thing now?”

“I didn’t hook up with him, but…” She grins, and Sophie finds it infectious. “We talked, and I think we’re going on a date this week, barring any traveling you guys might have to do.”

“Yay for a date,” Sophie says, pulling her into a one armed hug. The women in the front shout their happiness a bit louder. “I’m glad, seriously. You guys are too cute not to be together if you want to be.”

“Thanks, I’m just worried about the whole ‘working together’ thing.” She looks over with a frown. “What if it’s awkward? What if I say something weird?”

“You already answer his phone calls with ‘talk dirty to me’—work phone calls. I don’t think you have to worry about it being awkward,” Prentiss says, looking into the back seat. “You two have chemistry, and he’s head over heels for you.”

“And hot,” JJ says from the driver's seat. “You don’t let a guy that hot go because of a little awkward. You hold on for dear life.” They all laugh, and even Garcia seems happier after the short conversation. She segues into another topic, which makes Sophie feel a little awkward.

“Speaking of hot: Hotch took off his shirt, and I liked what I saw,” Garcia says with a playful grin.

“I know, right?” Prentiss says, glancing back again. “Who knew he’d be so buff under his sad fed suits.” I knew, I knew! Sophie thinks, but she knows she can’t say it without spilling the beans about everything that happened over the weekend, so she just hums in agreement.

“We can thank Sophie for getting him out of his shell this weekend,” JJ adds, looks back at her through the rear view mirror. “First she got him dancing, then swimming… I sense that Reid has competition for BFF.”

“Yep, me and Hotch, best buds,” she says, leaning against the window. Garcia seems to find something in her tone, if the look on her face is any consideration, but says nothing. “I’m sad Reid didn’t play on the beach though. He actually is my best bud, but he’s a tough nut to crack.”

The conversation gets lighter from there, a little more talk about Morgan and Garcia, how good breakfast was, how they’re never drinking again. When Sophie gets a text message, she’s a little too excited to answer it, almost throws her phone across the car when she fumbles it.

AH: Can I call you tonight? I realized we didn’t talk about everything you had questions about. I got distracted.

SC: No worries. I got distracted too.

SC: I’ll let you know when I’m home.

She is just unpacking her suitcase and contemplating what to have for dinner when her phone rings, and she grins. He didn’t even wait for her text, which is cute, and she tries to simmer down so she doesn’t sound like a complete weirdo when she answers.

She picks up her phone, and it’s not Aaron’s name she sees, but JJ’s.

“You don’t know how sorry I am to tell you this, but we have a case.” She sighs down the line. “Los Angeles. It’s bad, or I’d say it can wait until morning.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s your job. And we knew the vacation couldn’t last forever.” She drops her suitcase on the floor and replaces it with her go bag, stuffs it full of durable clothes. “I’ll see you in half an hour, JJ, thanks.”

“See you then.”

Sophie locks her phone and tosses it on the bed, does her best to get into a BAU state of mind.

[evabellasworld]

An Unforgettable Honeymoon

For @10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat , this is my gift for you as part of the @starwarsfandomfests event. Thank you to @lilhawkeye3 for organising this event. I really enjoyed it so far.——————————————————————————————

Summary:  Bly and Aayla head to a tropical island planet for their honeymoon, where they create an everlasting memory as a newly-wedded couple

——————————————————————————————

AO3 Link

Arriving at a tropical, humid planet, Bly and Aayla got off from the cargo ship as they had their suitcases in their hands, standing in a station full of tourists and locals from all walks of life. Bly noticed a blue Twi'lek girl, who shared similar resemblances with his wife and was around 4 or 5 years old, held both her parent's hands as they made sure that their daughter was well-protected from danger.

This might be us in the future, Bly let his lips curl upwards as he rested his head on his right palm, and he saw three Rodian boys in their shirts and beach shorts, carrying their own surfboards. They reminded him of his closest siblings, Ares and Ahri, who hung out with him whenever they’re on a break from war. Ahri and Ares would love surfboarding at the beach.

Aayla glanced at her husband's curiosity and placed her hand on his shoulder, prompting him to shift his focus towards her. “You seemed deep in your thoughts, dear,” the blue Twi'lek teased. “First time on a vacation, commander?”

“Yes, general,” he replied, his voice laced with doubts. “This is my first time I’m going on a vacation with you.”

Aayla let out a chuckle, leaving his cheeks turned pink. “Did I do anything wrong, general?”

“Bly, you know the war is over, right?” she grinned. “Besides, we just got married two days ago, so you can just refer to me by my first name.”

Scratching the back of his head, he nodded slowly as he squirmed his lips and released an agitated laugh. “My apologies, general, I mean, Aayla. I'm still getting used to this new life as a clone. Besides, you referred to me as commander, so I thought I was fighting battle droids on the battlefield.”

“Don't worry about it, dear,” his newly wedded wife smiled, caressing his tan, tattooed cheeks. “You'll get through with this. Besides, I'm also getting the hang of this as a Jedi Master. It’s really difficult to adjust myself after three years of chaos. It’s strange that I have to get used to a peaceful life.”

“Yeah, it is strange,” he bobbed his head solemnly as he reached out his arms and took her hands, reminding him just how lucky both of them finally got to spend quality time with each other, without any interruptions from protocols and orders from a higher authority. “Should we head to our hotel now? I can’t wait to have some privacy together,” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows twice.

“Lead the way, my love.”

Placing their suitcases on the red, carpeted floor, Aayla sighed in relief as the couple were greeted with scarlet rose petals on their bed, making them feel welcomed. Feeling a bit of exhaustion from the journey from Coruscant to Moluqu, she slid open the balcony door and gazed at the picturesque view of the beach from their room.

With the warm breeze blowing from the west and the illuminating pink sunlight, she sat on the rattan chair with a delicate, pearly cushion, her legs crossed.

Listening to the cheerful laughter of children, she was brought back down the memory lanes as a young Padawan, who used to sprint around the garden, which was filled with a cherry blossom tree, honeysuckles that were grown in shrubs, and morning glories that tangled around the black, iron gates. Whenever she tried to pluck a blue daisy from a pot, Master Vos always caught her red-handed and chased after her, but Aayla always outran him in the Temple.

I was such a mischievous child in the past, Aayla snickered to herself, looking at the horizon. But I'm grateful for the lessons he taught me, walked me down the aisle and accepted Bly.

The clone trooper glimpsed his wife, who was relaxing on the balcony. Changing into his beach attire, he put on his shades and leaned behind the sliding door, clearing his throat. “Hey, Aayla. We're heading to the beach right now. Are you coming? We haven’t got all day.”

“Of course, dear,” she answered him and got up from her seat. "I'll be right there in a minute.”

As she headed inside, she drew the curtains and changed into an ultramarine strapless bikini top with a high-waisted bikini bottom, carrying her towel by her forearm. Putting on her blueberry flip flops which she bought yesterday at a Coruscant night market, the couple linked arms with each other as they left their hotel room and strolled leisurely towards the beach, feeling the fine, warm sand underneath their bare feet as they took off their shoes.

Despite memorising the colours of the ocean, Bly felt like it was the first time he had experienced the shimmering sea in front of his eyes. He fought at a beach during the second year of the Clone Wars, but his eyes glimmered at the turquoise and deep blue palette of the ocean, where children and adults alike of all species gathered and swam. Rows of coconut trees were swaying with the balmy wind as tourists lay underneath the cooling shade, forgetting all their troubles at the present moment.

Aayla spread out their lemon-patterned beach mat underneath the palm tree, which was stubbier than the coconut trees. The only worst thing that could happen to the couple was a bunch of squirrels invading their peace, which occurred once during a scouting mission. “Well, we found a perfect spot to rest,” he jestered, squeezing her thighs. “Don't you agree, general?”

“Yes, commander,” bemused the Jedi Master, finding his touch rather ticklish. “We managed to find a good spot for us to rest and have a little privacy from the rest.”

He raised one eyebrow at her reply, before realising that he addressed her in a formal tone, just like how it was during the war. “My apologies, Aayla. I swear to the Maker that it was a slip of my tongue.”

“To be honest with you, I still don't mind you calling me general,” she quipped, leaning against the bark of the tree. “After all, I was the one who proposed to you in the first place.”

His smile grew wider as Aayla brought him back to that particular day, one he would never forget. “I still remember that day,” Bly reminisced as he moved his eyes upwards, before gazing at her hazel eyes. “It's as if you got down on your knees yesterday and asked me to be your husband.”

“And you were hesitating to say yes,” she recalled. “It's like you weren't expecting that day to actually come to you.”

“I was overjoyed, but I didn't really know what to say. It's funny that I dreamed of settling down with you when we were secretly together, but yet, my mind went blank when it actually came true.”

Chortling, Aayla slapped her knees and covered her mouth, leaving his cheeks turned red as a beet. “That is completely valid,” she assured him. “Honestly, your feelings that day were valid. It is normal to be nervous about moving on to the next step in life. Believe me, I've been there before and it wasn't easy for me to adapt.”

His eyes widened. “You were jittery before? But you seem so confident and calm all the time.”

“Yeah, it's surprising to see me anxious, but it's normal, you know. Everyone goes through that when they have to step out of their comfort zone. I felt the same way as you did when I decided to marry you.”

“So, how did you cope with your overwhelming doubts?” he asked, leaning closer to her. “Like, what is your secret?”

Aayla took a deep breath as she felt his warmth and gazed at his burnt cocoa eyes, ready to pull him into the other side of her mind. “When I'm in doubt, when my inner voice tells me that it is impossible to do something, when I feel like I'm never going to make it through my obstacles in front of me, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I clear my mind, I remind myself of all the blessings that I have with me and my own strength. That's how I cope with my doubts.”

What an amazing woman, Bly praised, when he heard her smooth voice in his ears. I envy her for sharing her vulnerable side with me. She is as courageous as a lioness on a golden throne. “So what are your blessings in life so far?” he wondered, gazing at the cloudless, azure sky.

Aayla tilted her head upwards as she hummed softly, before shifting her eyes towards him. “Besides surviving the war and getting a chance to see the beauty of life, I am blessed that you have become part of my life. I will never regret meeting you on Kamino, I am glad to see you develop into a better version of yourself, and I am proud to call you my loving, sweet, husband. So thank you, Bly, for choosing to stay with me.”

For a moment, he was speechless. In his mind, he desperately searched for a word that would go well with hers, but for some reason, it was empty. He felt frantic and blamed himself for always keeping quiet in the tender moments with his wife, but then, he remembered every single word she told her, about how she overcame her doubts. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I clear my mind, I remind myself of all the blessings that I have with me and my own strength.

And when he did so, the words that he wanted to spill to her finally popped up in his mind. “Aayla,” he finally spoke, after a few minutes of silence between them. “When I first met you, I only saw you as my superior. Nothing more, nothing less. But then, you sparked a couple of conversations between us, and wow, I actually felt something for you. I mean, I didn't think much about it, though, but as time went by, as battles got brutal and as we spent more time hopping from one planet to another, I realized that I loved you so much. I accepted your flaws, I commend your strength, I acknowledged your quirks, and yeah, I adored your beauty but you know what I loved most about you?”

“What is it, Bly?”

“I cherished your heart. Your valiant, compassionate, heart. That's what attracted me to you in the first place. And you know what? I never regret choosing to love you as my partner, as my confidant, and as my plucky, unfaltering wife.”

As they let their lips brush together, Aayla stood up and dragged Bly for a swim in the shallow part of the ocean, underneath the rosy sunlight. Like their love, the waves flowed with the rhythm as they lived and laughed together, creating everlasting memories on their first day of their honeymoon.

[hopetofantasy]

Nora Dari: “I’m a poetic streetrat” (older article)

The Angelie Jolie of Winterslag? “No, I’m just Nora Dari”, says the 17-year-old actress who one day - but not now - wants to adopt a few kids and who is determined to make it in Hollywood. “I have a lead role in the Flemish ‘wtFOCK’, played a role in the Finnish ‘Bullets’ and my French act in ‘Ghost Tropic’ was well received at Cannes,” she says, “A good foundation to go international”

To everyone who’s feeling a bit low and could need a boost: go talk to Nora Dari for 15 minutes. We should know, because we’ve almost never saw such primal force, drive and positivity in a teenager. A teen with a laid-out plan: to become world famous as an actress, with Hollywood as the final destination. The first step has been taken, because Nora just came back from Cannes where she went to promote the arthouse movie ‘Ghost Tropic’ with director Bas Devos. Her big smile shows us that’s she’s still walking on clouds. “I have a big crush on Lukas Dhont (director of ‘Girl’) and he was watching ‘Ghost Tropic’!”, Nora starts. “This already made my year. Other than that, I’ve talked with some producers and I saw Luca Guadagnino, the director of ‘Call me by your name’. I can’t believe this is happening to me.” Barely three years ago, you were on the set of ‘Patser’. “It’s right there when I fell in love with everything that movie making entails. When I saw Adil El Arbi and Bilal Fallah (the directors) working on this production, I thought: Ah, so it ís possible. I know now that it doesn’t matter where you come from. You should just go for what you want. My next project was a role in the Finnish tv show ‘Bullets’. It impressed some casting agents, and that’s how the ball went rolling. I don’t have a manager, don’t have a contract with someone, but apparently that wasn’t needed to get a role in ‘Ghost Tropic’. Nice: I’ve acting in English in a Finnish tv show, play the lead in the Flemish show ‘wtFOCK’ and in ‘Ghost Tropic’ I’m speaking French. Perfect, because I want to go international.” Solid plan. “I know what I want and that is: movie making. Really, I’m hooked. There’s nothing that makes me happier than this. And if you found something that made you happy, there’s no reason not to go for it.” Your father works in IT, your mother is a homemaker. Aren’t they scared that their daughter’s dreams are too big? “I’m very lucky with my parents. Dad came to pick up me from a movie set at 3AM. At 4 o’clock we were in bed and he had to wake up at 6 to go to work, so I could sleep longer, but he did it with a smile. My parents are happy, when their children are happy. And they enjoy what I’m going through: dad went with me to the ‘Ghost Tropic’ movie set in the Dominican Republic and mom accompanied me when I was doing ‘Bullets’. They know I’m serious, that it’s going somewhere.” In ‘Ghost Tropic’ you’re a Moroccan teenager who struggled with her identity. Do you fit that description? “I’m a teenager and I’m Moroccan, so that fits *laughs*. Other than that, I think that every girl my age struggles with her identity, no matter where her roots lie. Although, I have to admit it’s a bit more complicated if you have two nationalities. There are moments where I don’t feel Moroccan enough and moments where I don’t feel Belgian enough. I just recently found it it’s not that bad being both Belgian as well as Moroccan, it’s beautiful *pulls a sad face*. Even though, the election results are sad.” Does that hurt you? *thinks for a while* “Of course it hurts, but I can’t see that I didn’t saw it coming. And I’m not going to look at the Flemish people differently, because I’m Flemish myself. I don’t blame people, because these people voted out of fear. Sad, because in times like these, we’re supposed to hold each other instead of pushing each other away. People shouldn’t have to worry about a woman walking on the street with a hijab, they should worry about their wallets.” Are you faced with racism sometimes? “Sure. I’m muslim, so then you receive hateful reactions on the regular. Sometimes racism is in the little things and not that clear. For example, in class, when they talk about Moroccans and they point at me. It’s not meant to be insulting, but it creates a distance: we and them. If you find yourself in that kind of situations regularly, then you have to be strong, which is not a problem with me *laughs*. I don’t let it get to me, just like I don’t put all my value on positive commentary. I rather go with my own strength.” How are your studies? “I’m in my sixth year Economics-Languages. As we speak, my classmates have a French test *laughs*. I have to make up for it later, but that’s not a problem, because I don’t neglect my studies. If I do, my parents will make me stop acting and that can’t happen. If I’m done with high school, maybe I’ll take a gap year. If during that year, the bigger projects don’t come in, I’ll start my studies in Cross Media Management.” Where does your drive come from? “I remember a beautiful summer vacation in the south of Morocco, where my grandpa lives. At night, I often went to sit on the roof of the house, with the starry night above me. During one of those nights, I discovered myself. There, at that moment, I told myself: It can’t be that you can’t reach your dreams, if you work hard enough for it. Okay, you need a bit of luck, but how much? When I was back in Belgium, I knew for sure: I’m going for it, nobody will hold me back. The most important thing is that you believe in yourself, what others might think of you. And you’ll meet people on the daily who’ll look at you with sad eyes if you say you want to be an actress. But fuck that, I can’t take that into account.” What do directors see in you? “I think they know it’s not about fame with me, but the art.” - article cut here, the rest is behind paywall -

[cookie-run-kingdom-story]

Adventure to the Tropical Soda Islands (Pt 1)

Princess Cookie: C’mon Knight Cookie! What’s taking you so long, you heavy-armored slowpoke?! Knight Cookie: My Princess! *phew* Please take caution and slow down! Princess Cookie: You should learn to relax and have fun! Go with the flow! You know, enjoy the pure excitement of adventure once in a whi- EEEK! Knight Cookie: Princess Cookie! Are you alright?! Your Highness, I beg you! It is possible *pant* to enjoy adventures while keeping *pant* safety in mind at all times! Princess Cookie: Geez, I thought you were a knight, not a nag… Whoah, look over there! There’s something behind these shrubs! Knight Cookie: It’s… it’s a boat, Your Highness! It seems like someone has sailed all the way here. Princess Cookie: Yeaaah, I don’t know but it’s SO EXCITING! A real adventure boat! SHEESH! And look! There’s something inside!

Princess Cookie: There’s a place called the Tropical Soda Islands! Doesn’t it sound like the MOST. PERFECT. PRINCESS vacation spot?! I haven’t been on vacation fooorever! Knight Cookie: But my Princess?! You cannot be suggesting we- Princess Cookie: It’s settled then! YAY! Tropical Soda Islands, here we come! Knight Cookie: Errm… Uh… But a journey of this scale needs… preparations! Food, supplies, spare sets of clothing and armor, weapons to defend ourselves with, a secured route and itinerary, and, and, and... Princess Cookie: Oh, of course! Aren’t you one smarty knightly knight! Let’s meet at the docks after we’re done packing! Knight Cookie: Wait, no! That’s not what I…! Your Highness!!! Knight Cookie: A sea journey… That doesn’t sound safe at all… No, a knight must have no doubts and second thoughts! My mission is to protect Princess Cookie, no matter when or where! Princess Cookie: Knight Cookie! I’M BAAACK! Knight Cookie: Ah, Your Highness! You’ve… returned, with a companion?

Sparkling Cookie: Good afternoon, my good Knight Cookie. Sparkling Cookie, at your service! Do you mind if tag along?* I heard of an exquisite island beverage worth the journey!

*actual text

Princess Cookie: Yeah, a princess can’t enjoy the beach without a fresh ice-cold juice in hand! Those are the rules! So naturally, I invited Sparkling Cookie to join us. Sparkling Cookie: You’re in good hands, my lady. I’ll whip up some amazing drinks that go perfect with the fresh sea air and the patter of waves.

Knight Cookie: My Princess… Are you sure this is wise? What if Your Delicateness suffers from sea sickness during the trip? Princess Cookie: Nah, I’m feeling JUST GRRREAT! And what’s more, looky looky here! Princess Cookie: There’s lots of different fruit villages scattered across the islands! They say the juice at Watermelon Isle is heavenly! We HAVE to stop there! Sparkling Cookie: I’ve heard that the denizens of Pineapple Isle serve drinks in hollowed-out pineapples. That will truly be a once-in-a-lifetime experience that we simply aren’t allowed to miss!

Careless Durianeer: Boss! BOSS! Hey-hey-hey boss! Stink-Eye Tortuca: Who ya callin “boss”?! Oi told ya’s, it’s “CAPTAIN” now, hear me? “CAP-TAIN”! Stink-Eye Tortuca: And oi said NO DISTURBANCES! I be entertaining guests. *GROAN* FINE, but ya got five seconds! Each second more’ll cost ya a day’s ration! Careless Durianeer: We spotted a small ship ahead! Stink-Eye Tortuca: Oh yeah? And ya think they’re super rich? Careless Durianeer: T-t-they be lookin like… er, tourists, Captain. Stink-Eye Tortuca: WRONG ANSWER! *Tsk* What a waste of time… Teach this greenie how tae NOT be wrong! Dunk him in *grin* DURIAN JUICE! Careless Durianeer: But Cap’n! CAP’N! One more thing! If we stay on course, we might crash into them! Our beautiful ship will capsize! Stink-Eye Tortuca: USELESS LIKE A NO-STINKY BONE-DRY PIT! Do oi have tae do everything on this ship MYSELF?! Just shoot ‘em and problem solved!

Knight Cookie: My Princess! It appears as if we cannot continue sailing this way. There are buoys blocking our path. Princess Cookie: Oh bummer! This can’t be right?! Why don’t you do something?! The route on the pamphlet says this is the most scenic route...! Sparkling Cookie: My lady, there’re little flags on top of the buoys. It appears to be a drawing of something… pointy? A thorned flower, perhaps? Knight Cookie: Your Wiseness! It can be something much MUCH worse! A dangerous spiky bomb, for example! Princess Cookie: Nah, it looks like a spiked watermelon to me!

Knight Cookie: GWAH?! What’s this? PIRATES! We’re under attack! Take cover! Sparkling Cookie: My my, the situation is stickier than spilt juice on a hot day! But surely our ship can handle cannonfire, can’t it? Princess Cookie: EEEK! Knight Cookie, why are they shooting at us? DO SOMETHING! Knight Cookie: Hang on, my Princess!

Knight Cookie: Urgh… my head… what’s that sound… Of course, it’s Princess Cookie starting a commotion again… Wait… I was... Knight Cookie: Oh no no no! YOUR HIGHNESS!!! Knight Cookie: MY PRINCESS! Where are you?! Princess Cookie: Not so loud, Knight Cookie! Why are you yelling at me? It’s not very polite, you know!

Mango Cookie: No need to argue! This kind sir here just woke up, after all. How’re you feeling? And dut-dut-dut! It’s OK! You’re safe and sound, here in the Coconut Village! Knight Cookie: You step away from the princess and state your identity! Your Preciousness, are you unharmed? What did you do to the Princess! Mango Cookie: Whoa now, easy, easy! How about a proper introduction? The name’s Mango Cookie, and this is Coconut Isle! And Princess Cookie doesn’t have a scratch on her. Princess Cookie: This coconut milk tastes… eh he he… unique! Wake up already, you sleepy head, and try it! Oh, and put this lei on. Mango Cookie made it himself! Knight Cookie: PHEW… I am relieved to hear you are safe, Your Highness. A-a-and… ahem. I shall put this on myself, if you please. Knight Cookie: That reminds me…! Who were the miscreants that attacked us? They’d dare open fire upon the peaceful ship on which the Her Nobleness was aboard?!

Mango Cookie: Glad you asked! They were probably the Durianeers.

Mango Cookie: TheDurianeersareabunchofpiratesbuttheynevercausedtroubleinourTropicalSodaIslandsuntilrecentlybutnowtheyarewreakinghavocbutnooneknowswhytheystartedtothis*andtheykeepplunderingislandshereandthereand...

*actual text

Knight Cookie: Eh… um… I… I’m not sure I… Sir, could you speak a tad slower, please? Princess Cookie: Are you saying that these ”Durianeers” are plundering your islands?! Tsk, tsk, tsk. That’s not very nice of them! Princess Cookie: *GASP* What about Watermelon Isle?! Mango Cookie: I took a few visitors there a few days ago and it seemed to be perfectly safe for tourists! I think… Erm… I hope! He he. Princess Cookie: WELP! It turns out I don’t like coconut milk that much! Perfect time to move on to Watermelon Isle! Mango Cookie: Leaving so soon? Aww, the Coconutians will be so sad… Oh well! We’ll take one of my secret routes! Mango Cookie: The strait we’re going to take is too narrow for large Durianeer ships, so we’ll be safe! But just in case, stay sharp and hang tight! The currents can get real nasty.

Princess Cookie: Oh no, how horrid! The village is in ruins…! Who could have done such a terrible deed? My princess sense of justice is TINGLING! Knight Cookie: It seems the Durianeers have pillaged this place rather recently, Your Justness! Princess Cookie: The entire village is empty! Did the Durianeers kidnap everyone? NOW HOLD ON… Does this mean I won’t get a glass of ice-cold watermelon juice?! Knight Cookie: Your Watermelonness, please! I understand your disappointment, but now is not the time. This area is highly dangerous, totally unsuitable for royal princesses, and- Princess Cookie: (Pouting angrily) Those… those bad, bad pirates! The Durianeers! I’m going to rescue all the villagers they kidnapped! Cuz that’s what Princesses do! Knight Cookie: I-er- Pardon me, Your Recklessness? You are… YOU’RE GOING TO- Princess Cookie: Sparkling Cookie is missing. The villagers are missing. You can’t get a glass of watermelon juice without breaking some watermelons, Knight Cookie! Do I really need to explain that? Princess Cookie: The Princess has decided! I refuse to have my vacation ruined by a ragtag band of pirates! Mango Cookie: But… Wait! No, no! There’s no way I’ll let a group of travelers go on such a dangerous quest! Knight Cookie: *Sigh* My friend, there’s nothing you can do… Once Princess Cookie puts her mind to something, nothing will stop her. Princess Cookie: Knight Cookie, LOOK! It’s a coconut boat! We’re gonna use it to rescue the villagers!

Mango Cookie: Oh dear… No, don’t! Oh, I can’t watch... Knight Cookie: Her Highness has made her choice, and I am honorbound to her side. Mango Cookie, you have no obligation to follow us, but I do have a request. Mango Cookie: A… request? S-sure…! How can I help? Knight Cookie: Ahem… Well, the thing is… Can you get me some more coconut milk?

Stink-Eye Tortuca: BWAHAHA! Looks like Fortuna be smilin on me today, COOKIE! Oi almost lost this time! Yogurt Cream Cookie: D’oh… So close! Stink-Eye Tortuca: HA HAR HAR! Oi told ya’s, things always go my way when oi want ‘em to! Ya seem like the opposite though, HAHA! Yogurt Cream Cookie: Oh CRUMBS! I really thought I’d win this time…! Heeey… wait a second. I know whatcha doing here. Did you rig the table?! Lilac Cookie: … ... Stink-Eye Tortuca: How dare ya’s?! A pirate oi may be, but cheating? NEVER! This game’s poetry! And oi be the alpha poet here, HAR HAR! Stink-Eye Tortuca: You know what….?! It looks like ya got nothing to bet with anymore ‘cuz oi just won everything! HA! So we’re done here! You’re free to go. Yogurt Cream Cookie: What? Already?! But you didn’t give me a chance to win back any of my treasures! Yogurt Cream Cookie: Oh! AH! I still have… THIS! Lilac Cookie: …!

Stink-Eye Tortuca: BHAR HAR! Well, ain’t this thing a beaut! Hid the best til last, did ya? Oi accept! One last round, hur hur! Laid-back Durianeer: Hmph, poor rich sog. Careless Duiraneer: Pfft… At least he’s wasn’t* dunked into… DURIAN JUICE... Laid-back Durianeer: Dude, seriously… Stay downwind. Just look at how pathetic he is! Lost his boat, lost all his supplies, even lost all his valuables in these bets. Careless Durianeer: The boss is, I mean, the CAPTAIN is pretending to almost lose! (And he’s so bad at keepin’ a poker face...) But THIS Cookie’s just too gullible... Laid-back Durianeer: Scraped off the bottom of the gullible barrel… Ha ha! Oh look, the game’s already over. Stink-Eye Tortuca: HAR HAR! Oi win again! Chuck over that Naga’s Heart of yours! And aww… just look at ya. A merchant’s young son, with NOTHING tae his name! HA! Yogurt Cream Cookie: I… I lost? Oh, no no no, this isn’t happening. What will I tell father?! Wh-wh- How? This is bad, very VERY BAD! Lilac Cookie, what do I do?!

Lilac Cookie: ...You should not have revealed nor bet the Naga’s Heart. Lilac Cookie: Captain Stink-Eye. Your palm. Don’t think I didn’t notice your trick when you slammed the cup. Stink-Eye Tortuca: HA HA HAR! A trick, eh? Who d’ya think oi am?! Oi got a better idea! GET THESE TWO LOSERS OUTTA MY SIGHT! Stink-Eye Tortuca: Accusing me, ME, of cheatin’? Ya hurt ma feelings… But oi got a special gift for ya. HEY! You! Tell that sparkly, bubbly guy to make some goodbye JUICE! Laid-back Durianeer: Aye aye, captain! Farsighted Durianeer: Boss! No, captain! There’s some scary looking Cookies asking for ya! ???: HYAAAAH!

Princess Cookie: HYAAAAH! Stink-Eye Tortuca: Now this be a lovely day!? Getting tae meet and rob so many Cookies today, HAR HAR! Knight Cookie: Princess Cookie! *Urgh* Your Braveness, please slow down! The deck is rather slippery and- GYAH! Princess Cookie: You’re the Durianeers, I take it? You seem all bark, no bite! Did you kidnap the peaceful villagers of Watermelon Isle?! I, Princess Cookie, demand you let them go! Stink-Eye Tortuca: Who do ya think ya are…? Making demands of ME, the captain of this ship! Ya look like you’ve still got a lot tae learn about the world, “PRINCESS”! Stink-Eye Tortuca: Piece of advice. Stink-Eye Tortuca: On this ship, if ya want something, ya gotta win a wager! Stink-Eye Tortuca: Ya want me tae free these watermelon fellas? Then show me what ya got to bet! Though, one look at ya tells me that YA’RE the one who’s all bark and no bite. Princess Cookie: Excuuuse me?! It’s a very ROYAL princess you’re talking to! And I’ll prove it! Now, where did I put it… It’s somewhere in here... Stink-Eye Tortuca: HAR HAR! Little princess is gonna wager some candy wraps from her pocket? Now that be CUTE, oi gotta say! Princess Cookie: Then how about THIS? A valued, royal treasure from our kingdom! Never seen something as cool as this, eh?!

Careless Durianeer: Quit yer yapping! Valuable? COOL? Pfft! Looks fake. Stink-Eye Tortuca: HA HA! This is gettin interesting! Looks cool enough TO ME, ya fools! Stink-Eye Tortuca: What’d ya say your name was? Princess Cookie? You’re the second Cookie to wager some valued, royal treasure today! Stink-Eye Tortuca: So, “Your Highness.” Let us play a game. But careful, cuz oi won’t take it easy on ya!

Laid-back Durianeer: Huh, that tiny Cookie’s actually good... Careless Durianeer: C’mon boss! Just win already! Laid-back Durianeer: Hmpf, must be beginner’s luck! The captain’s probably already got this all figured out! Careless Durianeer: B-b-but, look at the captain’s face! Stink-Eye Tortuca: HUR HUR HUR! Fortune favors the bold! And who’s bold? ME! OI WIN! Knight Cookie: How is this possible? This is no mere victory of chance…! Princess Cookie: Something stinks! And it’* doesn’t smell like durian! What’re you hiding in that giant hand of yours?!

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Stink-Eye Tortuca: Looks like our game of parlay is over! You! No, not you. YOU! Yeah you, rookie! Lock up these rascals in the brig! Sorbet Shark Cookie: oOoooOOoOoo

Princess Cookie: Get, psst! Is your name Rookie Cookie? Let us out…! Sorbet Shark Cookie: OoOo! Princess Cookie: Huh? What are you bubbling? Can’t you like… speak in words? Sorbet Shark Cookie: OooOoOooOOoo...

Knight Cookie: I cannot tell if this Rookie Cookie is hiding any ill intentions. Though, even if we could understand these bubby sounds… I believe negotiating is- Princess Cookie: URGH! There’s gotta be a way out of this! Sorbet Shark Cookie: oOoooOoooOO! Knight Cookie: My Princess, that strange Cookie has left… It sounded like they’ll be back soon though. But that smile… What could it mean? Princess Cookie: Who cares! Now’s our chance! Let’s find a way to bust this joint! Knight Cookie: The key has been taken away as well. Perhaps I can cut through with my sword… Stand ba- Princess Cookie: Knight Cookie, hurry up! There’s a porthole! Crouch down so I can get up there! Quick! Knight Cookie: Your wish is my command, Your Resourcefullness!* *Urp* H-heavi- Have you reached the porthole, My Princess?

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Princess Cookie: No! Hold… still, UGH! Just… a little… bit… higher! Knight Cookie: Y-es… Your... Princess Cookie: No, I SAY “HIGHER!” Huh? Knight Cookie? Knight Cookie: Zzz... Princess Cookie: Knight Cookie, now’s not the time for a nap! Wake up! WAKE UP! Princess Cookie: That’s one lazy Cookie… And… Oh? *sniff sniff* Where’s this smelly smoke coming from? ???: You. How are you still awake? Princess Cookie: EEEK! Don’t sneak up on me li- *urmph* Lilac Cookie: Silence. You will awaken everyone from their sweet slumbers.

Lilac Cookie: How strange. My sleep powder is effective on every Cookie. Except you. Are you not a Cookie? Princess Cookie: What are you talking about?! Of course I’m a Cookie: PRINCESS COOKIE! Did you cause this? Put everyone to sleep? Are you rescuing the villagers? What’s going on? Who are you? Lilac Cookie: *Sigh* Another headache to deal with… I must remember to concoct a more potent batch next time. Princess Cookie: Hey! Are you listening to me at all? Answer me! Or at least… oh! Are you trying to steal back something from that I’m-Stinky Captain? Lilac Cookie: I do not owe you a response. Princess Cookie: Hey! YOU! STOP! Will you just leave a fragile, delicate princess like me trapped in this cage?! Princess Cookie: If you don’t let me out… I’ll... I’ll… I’ll scream!

Lilac Cookie: Sweltering sands take me… What a shrill voice… Very well. Princess Cookie: Good! Let me wake up Knight Cookie real quick. Lilac Cookie: No, leave the clunky one. Just you. I assisted you. Now you… will assist me.