#if you saw me post earlier no you didn’t

[rue-isabelle]

Part 1

Aphrodite of Formula 1, Part 2

The Monaco paddock was buzzing, but not with the usual pre-race excitement. The drivers were all acting out of character, their girlfriends were growing increasingly frustrated, and the fans were having a field day tracking every move. The reason? Yn, as always, was oblivious to the chaos surrounding her.

---

Max and Kelly

Max leaned against a railing near the Mercedes garage, completely engrossed in conversation with Yn. She was telling him about the time she had to coordinate a last-minute team dinner for 30 people, her laughter filling the air as she recounted the chaos.

“You’re incredible,” Max said, shaking his head. “I can’t even organize my own breakfast without someone helping me.”

“It’s just practice,” Yn said modestly.

Kelly, meanwhile, stood outside the paddock, furiously scrolling through her phone. Max had promised to pick her up an hour ago, but there was no sign of him. She stormed into the paddock, her heels clicking furiously against the pavement, until she spotted him.

“Max!” she called sharply.

Max blinked, his attention snapping back to reality. “Kelly?”

“Yes, Kelly!” she spat. “The one you were supposed to pick up an hour ago?”

Yn’s smile faltered. “Oh no, Max, if you need to go—”

“No,” Max said quickly. “It’s fine. She doesn't matter as much as she thinks she does.” He turned back to Yn. “So, you were saying about the dinner?”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “You’re seriously just going to ignore me?”

“I’ll catch up with you later. Go and be a mom for once,” Max said dismissively, earning an incredulous glare from Kelly as she stomped away.

---

Charles and Alexandra

Charles had been in a great mood all day. Why? Yn had laughed at his joke earlier, and the memory had been replaying in his mind ever since. When the day ended, he spotted Yn leaving the paddock and hurried to catch up with her.

“Yn! Do you need a ride?” he asked, his smile wide.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I don’t want to trouble you,” Yn said.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Charles insisted, opening the passenger door of his car.

“Alright, thank you,” Yn said, climbing in.

Meanwhile, Alexandra stood in the paddock, waiting for Charles to take her back to their hotel. A mechanic approached her, not wanting to talk to her but having lost 'rock-paper-scissor' earlier against the others.

“He left,” the mechanic said awkwardly. “With Yn.”

Alexandra’s face turned red with fury. She let out a scream of frustration, startling everyone around her.

“Are you kidding me?!” she shouted. “What is wrong with all of you?! Why does he prefer this stupid bitch over me. I’m the one he should be fucking, not driving this slut home. Oh, she will pay!!”

Phones whipped out, capturing her meltdown as she stormed through the paddock, cursing under her breath.

By the time Alexandra returned to her hotel, videos of her tirade were all over the internet. Fans mocked her relentlessly, calling her a “gold digger” or "the wicked bitch is out again" and posting memes about her jealousy.

Charles, however, didn’t care. Yn had laughed at his joke earlier, and that was all that mattered.

---

Pierre and Kika

Pierre handed Yn a beautifully wrapped gift box, his smile warm. “I saw this and thought of you.”

Yn opened the box to find a limited-edition Hermès handbag. Her eyes widened. “Pierre, this is too much! I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can,” Pierre said. “You deserve it.”

Kika, meanwhile, had been plotting her next move. If Pierre thought a handbag was impressive, she’d go bigger.

The next day, Kika handed Yn a set of car keys.

“What’s this?” Yn asked, confused.

“A Lamborghini,” Kika said proudly. “It’s yours. Matte black, just like I imagined for you.”

Yn stared at the keys, speechless.

Before she could respond, Kika leaned in and kissed her on the lips, letting her tongueget a taste of Yn's sweet mouth. “I hope you like it,” she said with a wink.

Pierre watched the scene unfold, his jaw tightening. “A Lamborghini?” he muttered under his breath.

---

George and Carmen

Yn joined George and Carmen for a rare day off, excited for a relaxed shopping trip. But George had other plans.

As they browsed a boutique, George held up a sleek, form-fitting dress. “Yn, you should try this.”

Yn blinked. “Me? That’s not really my style.”

“It is now,” George said firmly. “You shouldn’t hide your beauty.”

Carmen nodded approvingly. “That’s so thoughtful, George. Always looking out for her.”

Yn reluctantly tried on the dress, emerging from the fitting room. George stepped closer, adjusting the fabric on her chest. He gave her perfect tit's a squeeze, making it look like he was adjusting the area.

“Perfect,” he said softly. His heart was hammering, his hands not wanting to leave her breast. It was only then that he noticed that Yn wasn't wearing a bra. Her peaky nipples winked at him. He softly stroked over them with his thumbs, before catching himself.

Yn laughed. “You’re too much.” She didn't notice anything, to engrossed in her conversation with Carmen.

Carmen, obviously to everything that George just did, smiled, thinking to herself how sweet George was to look out for her pseudo-sister.

---

Oscar and Lily

Oscar was supposed to be taking photos for Lily’s social media, but his camera seemed to have a mind of its own. Every few minutes, it drifted toward Yn, who was seated nearby, absorbed in her work.

“Oscar,” Lily said, tapping her foot. “Hello? I’m over here.”

“Right,” Oscar mumbled, snapping a quick photo of Lily before turning his camera back to Yn.

Lily sighed but didn’t bother protesting. “You’ve got it bad,” she said, shaking her head.

Oscar grinned sheepishly. “She’s just… perfect.”

---

Carlos and Rebecca

Carlos sat in the paddock, scrolling through his phone. His screen was filled with photos of Yn, her smile lighting up every shot. His panst started feeling tighter, his dick fighting to break free from his trousers.

He didn’t notice Rebecca walking up behind him until she leaned over his shoulder.

“Seriously?” Rebecca said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you just popp a boner in public because of a fucking picture?”

Carlos nearly dropped his phone. “I wasn’t—”. He quickly brought his hands in front of his trousers. However, when he made contact with his dick, he couldn't help imagine Yn on her knees for him, making him moan rather loud.

Rebecca just scoffed at him, feeling disgusted that he acted like that towards Yn in public. She looked him up and down, before muttering "Pathetic Pussy" so only Carlos could hear, and left.

That evening, Rebecca found Yn in her hotel room, exhausted. “You need to take better care of yourself, my love,” Rebecca said gently, brushing Yn hair away from her face.

Yn tried to protest, but Rebecca guided her to the bed and began massaging her shoulders. “You’re too kind,” Yn mumbled, her eyes drooping. Slowly, Rebecca brought her hands lower and lower towards her ass, giving it a squeeze and a soft pad, so Yn would stand up.

Rebecca tucked her in, smoothing the blanket over her. “Goodnight,” she whispered, climbing into bed and wrapping her arms around Yn as the big spoon.

Yn, half-asleep, murmured, “Thank you.”

Rebecca smiled. “Anything for you.” Afterwards, while Yn was asleep, he put one hand on Yn book, playing with it. At the same time, she was sucking a hickey carefully on her neck, licking and kissing her neck afterwards.

---

Despite the chaos, Yn remained blissfully unaware of the war raging around her. For her, it was just another busy race weekend. For everyone else, it was a battle to win her heart, no matter the cost.

@omgsuperstarg

@seonghwaexile

[alwaysthefool]

Love Spell (Xavier x Reader/MC)

Tags; angst, pining, comfort, happy ending, MC reader, gn reader

Warnings; ask.

Synopsis: Someone else puts a ‘love spell’ on you and Xavier doesn’t realise it at first, leaving him feeling betrayed and rejected.

Have you ever heard the saying that budding love is like a sonata? It has a soft beginning, a precipice, a rise and fall, and an end that leads to relaxing silence. This was your precipice.

You were sure Xavier would ask you out, as you waited for him under the big oak outside the forest, the Sunday afternoon breeze gentle and solemn. It was definitely a romantic place to meet, the invitation in the form of a letter left on your desk, your heartbeat quickening as you saw a silhouette in the distance.

But the person that appeared in front of you wasn’t Xavier. It was another man, a fellow hunter, someone you’d declined much earlier.

“Hey, what-“ Before you could finish, a pink glowing light from a protocore flashed your eyes, and you felt your entire constitution change.

Xavier, on the other hand, wondering where you were on the day off, went out to look for you, only to find you arm in arm with another man, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“[Name]?” He called you out gently, a lump in his throat. You looked back, your expression cold and indifferent. “Why are you with him?”

“Hm? This is my lover.” You replied, looking up to smile at the man next to you. He chuckled, kissing your forehead, making Xavier clench his fists tightly.

“Have you-“ He began, but watching how happy you looked, he couldn’t go on. “Oh, I wish you the best then.”

Xavier grit his teeth and walked away, angry, dejected, close to breaking. Didn’t you make a promise to him? Weren’t things going smoothly between the two of you? Was he too late again?

It’s fine, he thought, it was better for you that way. You’d be safer with someone else, happier too. He was from your world, he’d understand you better, and it was selfish of Xavier to want you.

He had always been selfish when it came to you.

That night, he did not have the heart to return to his apartment above yours, going to Philo instead, raiding Jeremiah’s fridge for beer.

“No ‘Hi’?” Jeremiah joked, closing the shop early to tend to the pouting prince. Xavier did not respond, chugging the beer, trying very hard to feel the hit.

“It’s non-alcoholic, dude.”

Xavier almost choked, coughing. “You couldn’t tell me earlier?”

“It says so on the package.” Jeremiah held back a laugh, knowing it was trouble in paradise that had his leader in such a mood. He tried to prod, but as usual, Xavier wouldn’t tell him anything, so he looked at your social media instead.

“Who’s this guy?” He exclaimed, disgust on his face. Xavier grabbed Jeremiah’s phone, to see the post of you with that man at a toy store, captioned ‘loml’.

He felt like crying, like screaming, something to get the pain out. Jeremiah tried to stop him as Xavier ran out, turning on his hunter’s watch, doing what he always did.

He fought without a break, without dodging, knowing it was evil of him to try and get hurt so maybe, just maybe you’d care. Maybe you’d visit him at the hospital, and maybe he could change your mind. Maybe there was still a chance. Even though you’d crushed his heart, he would do anything for those little ‘maybe’s.

When he woke up next in the hospital, another hunter was beside him, and Xavier got to know you changed your partners to be closer to him instead.

Do you hate me that much?

Did you have to go so far?

But it was too unlike you to not even visit him at the hospital or leave a text, finally making him sense something was wrong. He had faith in that care you showed him, and your heart that through time and space, had always been a loving one.

No, you wouldn’t do this.

Xavier sprinted out of the hospital bed, ignoring the calls of the other hunter and the nurses, taking a taxi straight to your apartment complex. He had been blocked by ‘you’ everywhere, and looking up the history of your new partner showed a past temporary suspension for using protocore hypnosis, a technique strictly banned by the association.

Xavier did not knock, teleporting inside instead to see you and that man slow dancing in the living room. This time, Xavier showed no restraint, pulling that scammer away from you, and searching him for protocores.

“Xavier, you’re hurt?” You asked, despite your state. Before you could start to plead with him to let you go, Xavier crushed that protocore between his fingers, lifting the trance off of you. You immediately fell unconscious, making him turn all your attention towards you. Although that gave the hypnotist a way out, Xavier knew he wouldn’t be able to run forever.

You woke up groggy, full of disgusting memories with someone you despised, and hyper alert Xavier next to you.

You hugged him immediately, and he hugged back.

“Why didn’t you come earlier?” You scolded, tears in your eyes. Xavier was as angry at himself as you were, so he could just listen, his crushed heart breaking even further. “How could you think I’d run away with another man?”

Xavier pulled away from the hug to look at you, your red and tear stained face. His expression spoke the unsaid apology as you continued.

“Next time you see me with someone else, you have to pull me away! I’m all yours, and if I’m not, then consider I’m being mind-controlled.”

Xavier’s eyes softened at that, as you continued scolding him. You stopped midway, your irritation subdued. “How did you get hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

-x-

Bonus;

As the two of you lay on your bed, finally talking out the feelings you’d been hiding, Xavier wrapped an arm around you, holding you close as he asked. “Did he touch you?”

You felt heat rise up to your cheeks, turning away from him to let him spoon you. “No, we didn’t even kiss.”

“I guess I’ll make it quick then.” Xavier mumbled to himself.

“Huh?”

“Shh… it’s not your worry anymore.”

[sequinsmile-x]

Thankful

Aaron invites Emily to Thanksgiving, and things change between them forever.

-x-

Hi besties <3

This years Thanksgiving fic is a little earlier this year because Thanksgiving is the SGW anniversary so I am posting chapter 80 on Thursday to mark it!!

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate, and if you're about to have a really hard couple of days with family I am holding more space for you than queer Twitter is for the lyrics of defying gravity.

Here's a little getting together fic for you all, and as always let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 3.6k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron groans and drops his pen to his desk, his fingers pressed into his temples as he looks back and forth between his completed pile of paperwork and what he has left to do. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the headache he can feel building behind his eyes, and he blows out a breath. 

“Coffee,” he mumbles to himself as he stands up and grabs his mug. He smiles and nods at Derek as he steps out of his office, and he walks past Emily and JJ’s empty desks. He spots them standing in the kitchenette, both of their backs turned to him, and he’s about to call out and make them aware he’s there, but he comes to a stop when he hears their conversation. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to ours for Thanksgiving? Henry would love it, and Will makes enough food to feed the whole street anyway.” 

Emily shakes her head, “It’s okay, I promise,” she replies, “I’m going to my mother’s. Part of my attempt to make good with her again after the whole faking my death thing.”

Aaron doesn’t have to see her face to know it’s a lie. Her relationship with her mother was still tense, at best, and he knew they barely spoke to each other. He’d offered to be a buffer of some sort, to go with her to see her mother - something he saw as his responsibility since her fake death had been his decision - but she’d turned him down. Her smile soft and appreciative as she told him she wouldn’t want to put him through that, her hand on his arm as he sucked in a breath and pretended that a simple touch from her combined with the smell of her perfume didn’t have him under her spell. 

He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with her. It had snuck up on him, his feelings for her shifting from mistrust to friendship to more so slowly that it felt as natural to him as breathing. His love for her so much a part of him he didn’t know what he’d be without it anymore. He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with her, but he remembered when he realised. A familiar pit in his stomach as he stood over her grave that he’d felt at Haley’s funeral, the same suit heavy on his shoulders as he threw a rose on top of her empty coffin - the only flower he’d ever given her. 

He told himself when she was in Paris that he’d do whatever was necessary to bring her home, that one day he’d get a chance to tell her that he loved her. Or at the very least, ask her out on a date. The reality of her return was different. She was a shell of herself, lost in the ruins of who she had once been - a feeling he was all too familiar with - and he knew there was very little she could take on top of the day-to-day of figuring out who she was now. He did his best to be there for her in the way that she’d let him, his support silent at first. Eventually, he knew he had to say something, worried that he’d lose her entirely if he didn’t, and they came to their agreement that she’d tell him when she had a bad day. 

It had restarted whatever closeness they’d had before Doyle. She would spend evenings and her Saturdays with him and Jack. She’d sit on the sidelines of the little boy’s soccer games and cheer for him, her smile as close to hers as Aaron had seen it since just before everything went to hell. Any thought or attempt at telling her how he felt about her had taken a backseat, and he knew that he’d simply be her friend forever if that’s what she needed from him. 

He clears his throat, feeling bad for eavesdropping, and they both turn to look at him, Emily’s smile slightly mischievous, “Sorry, Hotch.” 

He suppresses a smile and reaches behind her to grab the coffee pot, “That’s okay, Prentiss.” 

Outside of work, they only ever called each other by their first name, but they made a point of using surnames at work. They’d exchange a smirk as they did so and it had become a joke of sorts between them. 

JJ scoffs and rolls her eyes at them, “Everyone knows you’re friends, you know,” she says, smiling before she turns to leave, throwing another comment over her shoulder as she walks away, “It’s okay if you guys call each other by your first names in front of the rest of us from time to time.” 

Emily chuckles and shakes her head at JJ as she walks away, “We’ve been rumbled.” 

He hums as he puts the coffee pot back down, “Speaking of being rumbled…” he starts, and she raises her eyebrow at him in response, “You’re spending Thanksgiving at your mother’s?” 

She scrunches her nose up at him, “You heard that?” 

“I did,” he says, hiding his smile behind his mug, “You didn’t want to go to JJ’s?” 

She blows out a breath and looks around, making sure they are still alone, and she shrugs as she looks back at him, “This might sound awful, but I’m not sure I want to spend the day with them being an adorable happy family.”

“That doesn’t sound awful,” he assures her, “Sometimes the holidays just remind us…” 

“Of what we don’t have,” she finishes for him before she sighs and smiles sadly “So I will be perfectly happy eating an entire pan of homemade mac and cheese to myself and hanging out with Sergio.” 

Later, he’d wonder why he says what he says next. He isn’t sure if it’s the sadness she’s trying to hide from him, his love for her, or the thought of her spending a holiday alone, or even a combination of all three, but he finds himself talking before he really thinks about it.

“You could come over and spend the day with us if you’d like.” 

She shakes her head, already ready to argue with him, “Oh, I couldn’t intrude.” 

“It’s not intruding if I invite you,” he says, “Plus, I can promise no happy families. It’s me, Jack, Jess and her and Haley’s dad Roy who does not like me,” he smiles in a way he usually wouldn’t in the office, drawn in by her and the surprised laugh she breathes out, “So if anything, you’d be doing me a favour.”

She presses her lips together and looks at him curiously, and for a moment he’s sure she’s going to turn him down, but instead, she nods, her lips pressed together as she clears her throat, “Okay. That…that sounds nice. I’ll be here.” 

“Good,” he says, trying to tamper down his excitement, “Jack will be so excited - we all know you’re his favourite person.” 

She smiles, “Need me to bring anything?” 

“Maybe that homemade mac and cheese you were talking about?” 

She nods, “Okay,” she smiles at him, her lips pressed together as if she is holding something back, and then she clears her throat again, “I should go do some work.”

He nods, “I hear your boss is a bit of a tyrant.” 

She chuckles and shrugs, throwing him a wink before she walks away, “He’s not all bad.” 

___

She almost turns around and goes home. 

She finds herself standing on his doorstep, a casserole dish full of Mac and Cheese balancing on one of her hands and a bottle of wine tucked up under her arm, wondering why she’d agreed to this. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend the day with Aaron and Jack, it was her favourite thing to do, but spending Thanksgiving with them, a day for families and spending time with those you love, was enough to make her ache. 

She loved them in a way she wasn’t sure she had a right to. 

She’d loved Jack the moment she met him. He was adorable and cranky in Haley’s arms as she walked into the office looking for Aaron, his cries at least in part coming from him picking up on his mother’s bad mood. Emily offered to take Jack for a few minutes when Haley tried to pretend she wasn’t furious as she looked up at Aaron’s office, and she’d been slightly surprised when she took her up on it. She’d sat at her desk for a few minutes with Jack in her lap and it was enough time for her to be completely charmed by him. Her love for him had grown with her relationship with him, and he was without a doubt one of the most important people in her life. Happiness and joy all rolled up into the smile of a 6-year-old boy who had already survived so much more than he should have. 

Her love for Aaron was different. It had come out of nowhere, hit her like a truck as she stepped into his apartment and found him missing and his blood on the carpet. It was something she’d shoved down, something she’d pretended wasn’t there, and she’d been there for him as his world fell apart around him. There were times when she thought he might feel the same way too, fleeting moments when their eyes would meet and maybe felt as close to definitely as it ever had. Then Doyle happened. Tearing her sense of self apart for a second time, and she was glad there was nothing more between her and Aaron that would have put him in danger. 

Since she came home they’d become closer again, any initial awkwardness gone as quickly as it had appeared, and sometimes she’d find him looking at him like he used to again. She wanted more with him, with him and Jack - to be part of an actual family for the first time in her life - but she wasn’t sure she was enough for them anymore. 

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get back to the Emily that Aaron may have once loved. 

She’s drawn out of herself when the door to the apartment is torn open, and she looks up to meet Aaron’s eyes. A smile on his face that only seemed to exist in the confines of his home, a soft side of him that belongs to his son that he would let her see too. 

“Hi,” he says, taking the casserole dish from her, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

She chuckles, “Happy Thanksgiving,” she tilts her head at him curiously, “How did you know I was out here? I didn’t knock.” 

He steps back to let her into the apartment, “I saw you standing out here. I knew if I let you think about it any longer you’d leave.” 

She presses her lips together and nods, “Sometimes I worry you know me a little too well.” 

He laughs and puts the mac and cheese down on the kitchen counter, “I don’t think that’s possible,” he smiles over at Jessica who is standing in the kitchen and cooking, “Jess, you remember Emily.” 

Jessica nods, “Happy Thanksgiving, Emily.” 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she says, “Everything smells amazing.” 

Jack interrupts them before they can say anything else. He runs down the hall from his bedroom, throwing himself into Emily’s arms, “Emmy!”

“Hi Jack,” she says, hugging him close as she kisses his forehead before she pulls back, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You too,” he smiles, “I was just showing Grandpa the train set you got me for my birthday.” 

Emily looks up and smiles at a man she’d only seen briefly once before at his daughter’s funeral. She didn’t have to be good at what she did to see the way Roy looks at her, followed by the way he looks at Aaron. Distrust and a hint of anger in his eyes that feels misplaced. It makes her shackles rise, her grip on Jack in her arms tightening as she slips on a mask she’d had for as long as she could remember. One that had grown with her since she was the same age as the little boy in her arms. 

She paints on a smile and adjusts her hold on Jack, holding one hand out to Roy for him to shake, “Nice to meet you, Mr Brooks.” 

He hums and looks down at her hand before he steps past her to get a drink from the kitchen, “You’re Aaron’s friend.” 

She narrows her eyes as he turns his back and then she catches Aaron’s gaze, sees the I told you he hates me shining in his eyes, and she clears her throat, ready to protect the man she loves from anything, even his ex-father-in-law. 

“Yes,” she says, her smile as polite as it could be, “I am.”

___

Dinner is hard work. 

She has to stop herself from interjecting each time Roy says something passive-aggressive, or occasionally downright aggressive, to Aaron. The only things that stop her are the fact that Jack is in the room and that she’s sure Aaron wouldn’t appreciate her inserting herself into complicated family affairs. 

By the time Jessica and Roy leave, she can’t help but wonder how such a horrid man had raised two such wonderful women. It feels unkind, especially when she acknowledges what he has lost, but it sticks in her mind. How he’s so obviously lost in his own grief that he’s taking it out on those around him, specifically Aaron, without acknowledging what he’d lost too. Or that he was the father of his grandson, the absolute hero of his grandson, and that if he carried on down the path he was taking Jack would only grow to resent him for treating his father that way as he gets older. 

She blows out a breath and sinks further into Aaron’s couch, glass of wine in hand, and she smiles at the sound of chattering coming from Jack’s bedroom down the hall. She closes her eyes and imagines a world where this was her life. Where she sat here every evening listening to her Hotchner boys talk to each other, or snuggled between them on the couch every night. 

She opens her eyes when she hears the bedroom door opening and she smiles at Aaron as he walks towards her, “He okay?” 

Aaron nods as he sits down, “He’s okay. Holidays are hard - he misses Haley.” 

“You both do,” she says, smiling softly at him.“It’s okay to miss her even though you weren't together anymore when she died. You’ve known her most of your life,” she reaches out for him, her hand on his arm before she can think about it, “It’s okay to miss her.”

He nods, blowing out a slow breath, chuckling humourlessly as he reaches for his glass of wine on the coffee table, grateful when her hand doesn’t slip away from his arm, her palm warm against his skin “And you say I know you too well.” 

She hums, “I don’t think that’s possible,” she smiles when he does at her repetition of his words earlier that day, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

There’s something so honest about the way he says it that it surprises her for a moment, stealing the breath from her lungs as she smiles at him, “Has Roy always been like that with you?” 

“Standoffish?” 

“I was going to go for rude,” she mutters, “But yeah. Has he always been like that?” 

He sighs and sinks back against the couch, a lifetime of memories hitting him all at once as he thinks about the man who had never quite liked him, but never used to hate him like he did now. 

“He was never really a fan of mine,” he answers, turning his head to look at her, “But Haley loved me and he loved her so he…put up with me. Then when we got divorced he stopped pretending.” 

She clenches her jaw, desperate to keep her words back long enough so she can make sure they’re measured. She was used to controlling her feelings for him around him but this felt different, the need to protect him so strong she felt it thumping alongside her heart in his chest. 

“Still, you’re Jack’s dad, and his only parent,” she has a sip of wine, “He should show you the respect you deserve.” 

“To him, this is the respect I deserve. After all, I’m the reason his daughter is dead.” 

He only realises he’s said it outloud when she gasps, an intake of breath that she can’t stop as her eyes go wide. He knows he wouldn’t say it in front of anyone else but she had this way of flaying him open, of tearing him apart at the seams where he’d sewn himself back together, and he could never quite figure out if he liked it or not. 

Being entirely known by someone was a privilege, but it was a vulnerability too, and it had been so long since he’d let someone get this close to him. 

“Aaron…” she chokes out, leaning forward to place her glass of wine down on the table, “You…you don’t believe that do you?” 

“I…” he trails off, placing his glass of wine next to hers before he turns, his knee knocking against hers the first indication he gets of how close she is to him now, “Sometimes.” 

She isn’t sure if she wants to yell at him or hug him. Or both. Fierce protectiveness of him rolling through her again, even though it was him that she wanted to protect him from. She reaches out for him, and she hesitates for a second, her hand frozen in the air, before she cups his cheek and makes him look at her. 

“It isn’t your fault,” she says, her eyes searching his, “The man whose fault it is died. He’s dead. You…you’re the reason your son is alive, and thriving and the happiest kid I’ve ever met.” She says, and he chuckles, the sound thick as it catches in his chest, “And you always joke I’m his favourite person but it’s you, Aaron. You’re his favourite person. He loves you so much.” 

“I know,” he chokes out, leaning into the warmth of her palm against his cheek, trying to commit it all to memory for when it would come to an end, “Usually I can rationalise it. I know it’s not my fault. But...It’s just hard to remember sometimes.” 

“I know,” she replies, smiling sadly when their eyes meet, “Better than most.” 

They sit like that, in their half embrace with her hand against his cheek, staring at each other, and for a moment she thinks about leaning in, about pressing her lips against his and kissing him, but she stops herself. Her bravery snuffed out as quickly as it had ignited, not entirely sure she could take the leap unless she knew he wanted to jump with her too. 

She pulls back abruptly, leaving his cheek cold as her hand slips to her lap and she clears her throat. “I should get going. Thanks for having me.” 

Aaron frowns and stands up at the same time she does, “Em-”

“Sergio will be waiting for me,” she says, cutting him off as she walks towards the front door, “He is grumpy when I don’t-”

“Emily,” he says, firmer this time, stopping her from getting any further away by standing in front of her, “What’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, “If I have to say it, I’ve misread a lot over the years and I am really bad at my job.” 

He sucks in a breath, and he knows it’s now or never, that if he lets her leave it would be over before it could even start. They were at a crossroads, two paths laid out in front of them, and he knew there was only one that he wanted to walk.

And it was the one where she’d be right by his side. 

He steps forward, making it so there’s no space between them, and he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. He sucks in a breath at the same time she does, and their eyes meet for a second before he leans in, her lips soft against his. It’s everything and more than they’d both imagined over the years, a moment in time and one that would last forever, drawing out around them like the finest of thread as they moved forward together. Everything they could, and would have, leading back to this one kiss. 

When she pulls back she rests her forehead against his, her lips pressed together before she licks them, chasing the taste of him on her skin, “So,” she says, chuckling breathlessly, “I wasn’t misreading anything.”

He shakes his head and pulls back to look at her, both of his arms wrapped around her to keep her in place, “Em, I…”

She nods and rests her forehead against his again, “I know,” she cups the back of his head, her nails scratching against his scalp, “I know.” 

They stand there, pressed against each other as they breathe each other in, the acknowledgement of everything else there was left to say, and he chuckles and pulls back to look at her, “Would it be cheesy for me to say this is something I’m thankful for?” 

She laughs, the sound wet as it catches on a sob and she nods, making her forehead knock against his, “Yes,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck and dragging him into a kiss, “But I’ll let it slide this once.” 

She doesn’t have to say that she’s thankful too, because he already knows. 

[noctude]

trawlermans song by vashti bunyan (quiet scared mouse style)

[ifyoucandaniel]

Dark Matter by @mysterycyclone and art by @spidey-art 🖤

she’s finally finished!! this has been in the works for like nine months now, but i wanted only the best so she truly feels like my baby after all the time and work that went into it.

i wish i could have found a way to include more of the gotham/batfamily side of things in this since thats literally the premise, but honestly i have so many batman binds peter deserves a bind all to himself 🖤

this is one of my all time favorite fics ever and i knew as soon as i read it that i would have to make a bind worthy of it and i’m pretty happy with it! i actually scraped my entire original design that i came up with back in like january when the last chapter came out because i realized it just wasn’t the direction i wanted to go with it. so when i couldn’t find anything that really matched what i had in mind for the chapter number designs and headers i drew my own. please be kind, abstract goop is not my usual style lol

anyways! everyone should read this and check out @spidey-art ‘s art because it’s beautiful and they were so kind as to let me use it for this bind!!!

DO NOT BUY OR SELL FANFICTION! please respect fandom and the authors and learn bookbinding or ask a friend who binds! this was entirely handmade and not for sale!

[hauntingyourself]

Lord Huron has been rotting my brains for the better part of the year so far. This is the result of that

[parasitoidism]

Coping with beating innocent sin rn

[forestborg]

Who could possibly be causing Lae’zel to make this face ?

(It’s Shadowheart. Obviously it’s Shadowheart. She’s in the full version on Twitter 😌).

[pretendingday]

ACT III

[fastboatsmojito]

🕸️𖤐 Promptober Day Six - Knife Kink 𖤐🕸️

| a/n; switched around a few days on the schedule because this has been marinating since September and driving me crazy <3

Promptober schedule here!

| cw; 18+ smut btc, please please be safe, this is fiction!!! Knife play obviously, only Halloween-y because of the weather, afab! Gn reader, degradation, Scott being mean and nasty, a little dacryphilia, a splash of hair pulling, size kink if you squint, slapping (once), he talks to you like a bad dog for a second my fault, no mention of condoms - b safe !! Matching each others FREAK

| wc; 1,666 <3

He’s doing it again, pulling the folding knife out of its meticulous place in his pocket and sliding it open in the seat next to you. He never used it unless he had to but you saw it often enough for it to make your head spin, and without fail anytime it was out your eyes were glued to it.

To his fingers gripping the handle with more care than was usual for him, it was hard to look away when that attentive, analytical side of him came out.

This time simply for the invisible-to-anyone-that-isn’t-a-clean-freak string attached to the hem of his shirt, cutting it off quick and clean as you stared, eyes locked on the silver tucked between his fingers.

He looked up at you as you dazed, low voice finally emerging you out of your brain.

“Why do you do that?” He asked simply, watching you blankly as you froze.

“Do what?” You weren’t completely sure what he was asking, blindly hoping that the way his hand slightly twitched around the knife in his grasp wasn’t a sign he could suddenly read your mind and every filthy thought encompassing it.

“Stare at me like that every time I use this.” He’s carefully pointing the blade at you now, eyes following it before landing back on your own. He doesn’t sound mad but he might as well be the way you’re shifting in your seat like he’s scolding you.

“I don’t-“ You shake your head, scrambling to find the words that just won’t come out, he’s being frustratingly direct and it’s only adding to the familiar ache you tend to feel around him.

“Don’t lie. Just answer the question.”

“I just, um-“ Your eyes moved to your hands as you spoke, the eye contact suddenly too intense to handle.

“I think it’s kinda hot- when you use it.” Your words were pressed against each other, coming out just above a whisper as you anxiously tapped your fingers against your thigh.

“Use…” You sighed as he pushed you to say exactly what you meant, your face heating up at his suggestive tone.

“Your knife.” You look up only after you say it, subconsciously pressing your thighs together as he examined your every reaction, pausing even the movement of his jaw to observe your own.

His hand still holding the knife paired with his stern voice and intense stare was quickly turning you into a puddle, and it wasn’t not obvious.

“Right.” He nodded simply, gauging your reaction. Everything seemingly frozen in time resumed, the stationary gum in his mouth back to keeping him focused, his fingers pushing the knife closed before shoving it back into his pocket.

For a second you were scared he thought it was gross, shamefully watching as he opened his car door to get out. Half expecting him to call you a fucking freak, and he usually would, but you figured he was either into it as much as you were or uncharacteristically sparing your feelings to use it against you later.

He sighed at your uncomforted expression and leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt before getting out and walking over to open your door.

“Come on.” He tilted his head towards the motel rooms just behind him, reassuringly placing a hand on the back of your neck as he guided you into his room.

——

It wasn’t long before you were on the bed under him as he sat on his knees between your open legs, gasping when he flicked the knife open and rested it just under the hem of your underwear.

The quiet pattering of the rain against the windows and the lull of your shared heartbeats kept you just grounded enough to not slip all the way into your head.

Into the steady chill outside that was cut off by the door, and brought back in again through the cool blade lying on your skin. Into the comfort in knowing that you were safe even with the unavoidable threat of something so sharp against something so fragile.

It felt suffocating in the same way your head gets fuzzy when you go just a few seconds too long underwater, an agonizing instinct to pull yourself back up and a louder, sharper, sicker need to see how long you can stay under.

“I won’t hurt you on purpose but you have to be still, okay?” Your eyes were stuck on the smooth silver, humming when his other hand moved to the nape of your neck, pulling your hair just enough to bring your now tear-brimmed eyes back to him.

“I mean it. Don’t need you bleeding out all over the bed, got it?” You nodded until the hand still gripping your hair tightened.

“I got it, I trust you.” You both knew you meant it, you’d be scared if anyone else held your life in their hands like this but this is Scotty - a nickname he’d only ever let leave your mouth - he was always so precise and observant, you knew you had no real reason to be worried.

“I know.” The hand behind your head suddenly soothing, the dull side of the knife slowly dragging down your leg as he leaned in to kiss you. It was soft, sweet, everything you knew he wasn’t about to be and you basked in it, always savoring every second of sweetness he spared before giving you what you really wanted - what you needed.

You whined when he pulled away anyway, desperation falling over you as he took his time, hand behind your head moving down to your hip to keep you still as he moved the tip of the knife to your inner thigh.

You weren’t sure exactly what he was about to do but even in the low lit room you could see the faintest smile on his face. Every move he made felt calculated, like he’d planned every second of it in his head days before.

He gripped your waist tighter before he tipped the knife down so the width of it was just against the wet spot on the fabric between your legs, closely watching the way your mouth fell open at the sudden cold.

The silver gift you got for him - that he swore he wouldn’t wear out of the house - fell out from his black undershirt, glistening against his neck. Your hands moved from the bed either side of you to appreciate the jewelry you knew he’d look good in - he wasn’t always great at talking about how he felt but he knew just well enough how to show it.

He carefully brought the knife away from you and lightly trailed it all the way up your body, over every part of you it could reach, finally drawing over your collarbone before slowly creeping back down again.

You lost count of just how many times he’d done it - you couldn’t possibly be wetter and he couldn’t possibly care less - admiring the soft pleas falling from your mouth, knife-less hand now on the side of your face as his thumb wiped away the tears of frustration pouring out of you.

“Scott, please-“ You begged for what felt like the millionth time, he was clearly enjoying tantalizing you, sighing and pulling back and finally bringing his hands to drag the ruined fabric down and off of you.

You pouted when he closed the knife and set it down on the bed, shaking his head and pointing a finger at you when you moved to sit up.

“Stay.” He said firmly, bed creaking just so as he stood up to free himself from his pants, eyes focused on your own as you waited on him. He could do this for hours and he had, letting you whine and beg and cry for it first. He wouldn’t this time, noticeably impatient as he resumed his previous position over you.

Before you could ask - or more accurately beg, he sat down on the bed, head resting against the headboard before signaling for you to come up with two fingers. He promptly grabbed your hips so you were sitting on his lap before reaching for the closed knife once again.

Your bare cunt was situated on the bulge under you, your hands planted on your thighs. He wrapped the still-closed knife wielding hand around you to lift you up, lazily pulling his dick out with the other. It was irritating how easy it was for him, so casually showing off his strength when you were alone.

He covered himself in the slick dripping out of you, groaning when he swiftly sat you down on him, keeping you motionless over him with a hand at your waist.

He flipped open the knife with his other hand away from you, undeniably feeling you clench around him when he finally brought the cold blade up to your skin again. He had the perfect view in this position, enough control over where his hands were precisely placed to keep you safe even with a knife at your throat.

“I knew you were far from innocent, sweetheart, but this is really fucked up.” You barely heard it over the rain that was rapidly hitting the windows. Ignoring the filthily mocked nickname and filthier implication, you let go of the breath you’d been holding since you confessed your dirty little secret.

His sharp comment finally leaving his mouth and taking with it all of the worry running through you that, even while literally inside of you, he’d think less of you for it.

You were practically just cockwarming at this point, pawing at his chest to try and convince him to fucking move already. You knew he’d be moving your hips for you soon but you complained anyway.

Rolling your eyes and hastily circling your hips at his seeming lack of urgency, earning yourself a cautionarily soft slap on the cheek.

“You’re mean.” You cried, almost throwing your head back in protest before he held the blade under your chin to keep you steady in place.

“Careful. Thought I told you not to move. Be good and stay still for me so I don’t have to explain to everyone that you asked for this, yeah?”

<333

[abigail]

yesterday ☆

[heshemejoshi]

sketch. trying to figure out how to draw him in a way i like

[worldsewage]

[multiseb21]

[sincerelywhistler]

Redacted hand study part 2:

Porter Solaire

Porter and his Medusa tattoo.. Ough.

[kitamars]

☀️🍂