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aureatelys · 3 months ago

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as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c.: 6k a/n: inspired by that one gifset of hotch desperately needing some moisturizer on his neck im so sorry. also my first time writing hotch's pov, pls be gentle. c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, kinda sunshine/girly!reader, mutual pining, alcohol mention, author pretending like they know about skincare, hotch is whipped and touch starved af, no y/n

summary:

You think Hotch needs to take better care of himself. Hotch doesn't know what to think. Or, 5 times you teach Hotch about skincare more than he wants to and 1 time he teaches you.

read below or ao3 here

one.

When Hotch first walks into the conference room ready to go over a new case, there’s something different that he can’t quite put his finger on.

Words dying in his throat, he sweeps his eyes over the entire room and doesn’t see anything significantly out of place. Then he’s passing over everyone’s faces, mentally keeping a note on how exhausted most of them are looking, and then landing on you.

Having only joined a couple of months ago, you were still fairly new to the team. However, with your sunny disposition and eagerness to learn, you blended right in. Hotch had watched in amusement as you were able to keep up with Reid’s ramblings, Morgan’s flirting, and Garcia’s antics. You were insightful, able to give new perspectives that Hotch would never have even considered, patient with victims and their families, and Hotch admired you for that.

Today, however, you look considerably suspicious as you give him a sheepish smile and a little wave. “Morning, Hotch,” you say, eyes sparkling, followed by a round of greetings from the rest of the team.

“Morning.” And then he spots a machine on the table near the wall, shaped and designed like a cat and spouting off what looks like steam at a steady and continuous rate.

Now that he’s noticed it, he realizes the conference room feels significantly stickier, the sudden humidity a stark contrast to the dry winter air outside. He can sense the slight congestion he’s been waking up to the past several months gradually disappearing.

“It’s a humidifier,” you explain after spotting the slightly confused expression Hotch was wearing, as if he’s never seen one before. To be fair, he doesn’t think he’s seen one in years as Haley was usually the one who dug it out of storage when Jack wasn’t feeling well. “I brought it from home, I thought it was a little dry in here. Is that okay?”

“I hope so, I was worried about getting a nosebleed the other day.”

“It’s good to have it around during this time of year, Hotch. Did you hear Anderson coughing this morning?”

“It’s also beneficial to have one on while you sleep, both with the white noise and being able to clear your sinuses and breathe easier with its optimal humidity levels.”

Truthfully, Hotch doesn’t care and he’s sure there isn’t some ridiculous regulation about not allowing a small humidifier, especially when Garcia has two space heaters in her office that you’ve had to ask to borrow at least twice a week.

However, the way you’re glancing up at him now from your spot at the round table, eyes wide and fluffy pink scarf wrapped around you because you apparently run colder than the rest of the team, Hotch would probably let you get away with anything.

He immediately sets that thought aside, not wanting to dwell on exactly what that means right now. He takes the only empty seat left that just happened to be right next to you, making sure to keep a respectable distance. “It’s fine. Just make sure to turn it off and empty it before we go.”

You give him a blinding smile that momentarily distracts him from the bubbling humidifier and the clouds of mist that are nearly falling into his face. “Sure thing. Did you know that it can also help with dry skin? So technically, we’re just taking care of our bodies if they ask why we need it.”

Although it makes sense now that he thinks about it, Hotch didn’t know that. He also doesn’t remember the last time he put on lotion or moisturizer, no matter how dry his hands felt.

Just then, Garcia wobbles in with her yellow heels and coffee mug, immediately launching into the brutal details of the case and where the team will be headed out to for the next couple of days.

When Hotch gets up to grab his go-bag from the office, he tries to ignore how it feels like he can breathe a little bit easier.

two.

“God, it’s freezing in here.”

Hotch glances up from his laptop mid-report to witness you taking the seat next to his with a resounding oof. You’re wrapped up in a blanket that you had brought from home that has somehow taken permanent residence on the jet, shivering despite the heater being on full blast. The corner of it lands on his knee, soft and warm.

The team had just finished a case in rural Montana, surrounded by mountains of snow and the wilderness. You had remembered to pack warmly at least, as Hotch had witnessed you struggling to take off the several layers of sweaters every time you arrived at the precinct. He remembers frowning in the car on the way to apprehend the unsub as you shivered in the passenger seat, having had to wear only a layer or two due to the bulky Kevlar vest and needing to be quick on your feet.

“It’ll warm up here in a second,” Hotch says, already wracking around his brain to see if there was another blanket hidden in a compartment somewhere. “A cup of tea will probably help.”

You slouch down further in your seat, cocooning yourself even further under the thick blanket. “I don’t want to get up.”

Hotch is almost tempted to lock his computer and get up to make you that cup of tea himself, however he glances around the cabin and notices several knowing pairs of eyes on him. He doesn’t have to be a profiler to know what the rest of the team thinks—that he’s gone soft on you.

You with your fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape and the thick socks that you put in your bag specifically for the plane ride home. He knows he’s not imagining the lingering glances you throw at Hotch or the way you occasionally stay late as an excuse to bother him in his office.

And he doesn’t necessarily mind. There’s a strange, innate pull that tugs in his stomach when it comes to you, causing him to watch you more carefully and seeking out your presence at almost every opportunity. The sheer grip of panic on his heart when you were shot after taking down an unsub by yourself and without backup several months ago had Hotch re-evaluating everything he knew about himself.

He’s aware of the possible repercussions, which is exactly why Hotch has learned to be patient when it comes to you, who has threatened him to forgo his patience altogether with every bubbly laugh he can hear from his office or knock of your shoulders against his in the conference room.

So he doesn’t get up to make you that cup of tea despite knowing how you take it with a splash of milk and two sugars, and instead turns back to finish the action report.

It’s only several minutes later when he notices you rummaging around in your bag out of the corner of his eye before you pull out a small and colorful lotion bottle with a triumphant noise. You pop the cap open and slather some on your hands before you’re turning to face Hotch again, the novel that Reid recommended to you untouched on the table. “Do you want some?”

The bottle in your hand looks somewhat familiar, most likely something he’s passed by at the store or on your desk, but Hotch balks at the pink flowers painted all over the bottle. He’s lucky the undoubtedly suffocating smell hasn’t hit him yet. “I’m fine, thanks.”

But you don’t put the lotion back in your bag, instead shifting in your seat until you’re fully facing him. Your blanket is nearly draped over Hotch’s thigh. “Are you sure? You know, it’s really important to make sure your hands are moisturized, especially with how cold it is here.”

He doesn’t know why you’re so adamant about this, peering up at him with bright and eager eyes and the open lotion bottle poised over his hands. He’s never liked putting on lotion, or any kind of creams, as it always made his hands feel uncomfortably greasy. He would eventually wash it off anyway.

He turns his attention back to his laptop, yet wordlessly puts a hand out towards your direction.

He thinks you’re going to pour a generous dollop and let him rub his own hands together, but instead, he nearly jumps in his seat when you’re grabbing onto his hand with both of yours and slathering whatever’s leftover on your hands into his palms and the back of his hands.

Your hands are cold, even moreso than his, but the sharp tingle that runs up his arm at your touch causes something warm to bloom in his chest.

“I didn’t want to waste it,” you respond to the confusion on his face. You’re thorough; making sure to slather the cream in between his fingers and even down to his wrists. He senses the sneaking glances the rest of the team are throwing his way, maybe even smug, but he’s painstakingly distracted by the way your hands look in his, the way he can feel both of your hands gradually warming up.

And then you’re pulling away, and Hotch suddenly misses your tender touch.

Like he expected, his palms suddenly feel gross, unpleasantly slippery like he has oil all over them. He wants to rub his palms on his pants or go wash his hands, but your watchful eyes stop him.

And then it hits him— the sudden scent of you, floral with some hints of vanilla, overwhelming his senses. It’s undeniably the same scent as your perfume, the one that seems to linger every time you stride past him at the office or when you’re leaning over Hotch to laugh at something Morgan said. Now, it causes him to sharply inhale, chest feeling unnervingly tight as he unconsciously marks it to his memory.

You’re still watching him with an expectant smile, bottle stored away in your bag for you to pull out again after you’ve gotten up to use the restroom and used the cheap hand soap that you’ve repeatedly complained about before. You look unfazed, as if your simple touch hasn’t sent Hotch’s brain reeling.

“It’s nice,” Hotch manages to say, voice only slightly strained. The smell is not as strong as he expected, but it’s still doing strange things to his heart more than he’d like to admit.

If possible, your smile widens. “Just nice?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s quite my signature scent.”

You hum and turn away, picking up your book despite Hotch knowing you’re not going to read a single page of it today, the spine already creased from where you’ve been laying it face down multiple times over the past month. “No, your signature scent already fits you.”

Hotch says nothing, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but your attention is already caught by the game of cards Reid and Emily are playing several seats away. You immediately set your novel down and scramble up and out of your seat to be their enthusiastic audience, leaving a trail of vanilla behind you.

Hotch immediately misses the warmth of your blanket.

three.

“What are you looking for now?”

You’ve been digging through your bag, your pink personal one that’s almost as big as your go bag, for the past five minutes. Hotch can hear the various items clinking around and the crinkling of multiple old receipt papers as you curse under your breath. He frowns, tempted to encourage you to clean out your bag if only to make packing more convenient for you. He couldn’t count the number of times you’ve exclaimed on the jet that you had forgotten something.

The team had gotten called to another small rural town in North Dakota for an unsub that’s been killing during the protective guise of blizzards, which is why Hotch was driving so painstakingly slow that Morgan would’ve surely had an aneurysm if he was in the same car. Despite the roads having already been salted, there was still a concerning amount of ice on the roads that had Hotch sitting ramrod straight in his seat and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were nearly turning white.

Luckily, it was only you and Hotch in the car, heater on full blast. You’re wearing at least three sweaters today with your coat draped over your legs and haven’t even complained once about it being too cold, citing how you’ve never seen this much snow before in your life. Hotch found it all extremely endearing watching you nearly jump in your seat at how the evergreen trees looked covered in snow. Like a Christmas movie, you had said.

“Found it!” You pull out a travel sized bottle of sunscreen, hurriedly twisting the cap open to squeeze and draw lines down three fingers.

Hotch glances at you out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed in confusion at your strange method. “Sunscreen? Are we going to the beach?”

“God, I hope not. I didn’t think to pack a swimsuit.” You roll your eyes while slathering the cream on your forehead, cheeks, down your neck, and even strangely over your ears before rubbing the rest on the back of your hands.

Hands tightening on the steering wheel, Hotch clears his throat. “I didn’t expect you to be so invested in your skin health.”

“It’s called skincare, Hotch,” you tease, screwing the cap back on but suspiciously leaving it out on your lap. “And it’s important to take care of your skin. Did you know that snow reflects UV rays, so even during winter you should put on sunscreen?”

Hotch chuckles before he could stop himself. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“Did you want some?” You’re twisting your body again to face Hotch, eyes sparkling despite it being horribly dreary and cloudy outside.

The only times Hotch has worn sunscreen was during especially hot summer days when he took Jack to the park or to go swimming. He’s seen you apply sunscreen in the office even when it was raining outside and the sun wasn’t forecasted to come out that day. He’s grown to learn not to ask questions.

“I’m okay, thanks.” The answer’s immediate, partly because he doesn’t need sunscreen and partly because he is concentrating on not crashing into a ditch.

“Come on, Hotch, it’s good for you!” He knows this is exactly the same thing you said on the jet several weeks ago, and since then, every time you’re putting on lotion and he’s somewhere in the near vicinity, you’re already squeezing some on his hands before he could respectfully decline. Luckily, you haven’t tried to apply it for him again.

You’re incredibly stubborn and Hotch wonders if you’re persuading the rest of the team to invest in expensive and fruity-smelling creams in an effort to have everyone properly take care of their bodies like you are with him.

“Alright.” And then he’s pulling his foot off the gas pedal just a bit to compensate for the distraction of having to put his hand out, desperately hoping you’re not going to lean over to apply it to his own face.

You luckily don’t squeal in excitement like he expected, just silently squirting the cream into careful and meticulous lines on his three fingers. Hotch can tell it’s definitely more of an expensive brand than what he was used to during the summer—lightweight and smelling like nothing.

Hotch carefully slathers it onto his face, starting at his forehead, down his nose, and then out to his cheeks and his chin. There’s still quite a lot left on his fingers and he remembers how you made sure to spread some on your neck, so Hotch does the same thing. However, he is definitely not going to put some on his ears.

Satisfied, you put the sunscreen away and twist as best as you could underneath your thick layers to put your bag in the backseat, because the floor of the car was too wet from the snow from your shoes.

“Happy?” Hotch’s face inexplicably feels greasier than he would like, but it’s not as bad as the vanilla-scented lotion or the cheap sunscreen laying forgotten in his closet. It’s already absorbed into his skin and when he rubs a hand along his jaw, he realizes that it must have had some moisturizer in it as well because his face feels softer than he was used to.

“Ecstatic,” you say, turning your face towards the window to hide the wide grin spreading across your face.

four.

The fourth time Hotch learns about skincare from you was completely and utterly by accident.

It had been a long and brutal couple of days chasing a serial in Tennessee, one that had nearly as much technological experience as Garcia. He had been two steps ahead of them until tonight, when they had finally caught a break and caught him before he could take any more women to hold hostage.

The all-consuming relief was palpable during dinner at the hotel restaurant despite the underlying knowledge that the same thing was going to happen next week. Conversation flowed, drinks were had, and Hotch was adamantly ignoring the fleeting looks you were throwing his way across the table.

Hotch and you had been dancing around each other for months, tension so tangible that the rest of the team were starting to feel uncomfortable. He’s been able to brush off Dave’s sly remarks in the privacy of his office, Morgan and Emily’s raised eyebrows tossed in his direction at every interaction he had with you, and Garcia’s elbow jabs at every possible second when you were in the room.

It's been frustrating for him, to say the least. He can’t tell them that he can’t make that choice for you, that he’s too conscious to not cross any of those professional boundaries himself. If that means that Hotch has to wait for several more months for you to make the first move, if that even happens, then so be it.

When Hotch watches the way you throw your head back in laughter at something Dave says at dinner, eyes bright and face slightly flushed from the wine, he thinks he’d be willing to wait as long as you wanted.

After being nearly kicked out of the restaurant from being too rowdy and Hotch hinting at being able to take the rest of tomorrow off once they fly back in town early, the team quietly shuffles back to their respective rooms. He knows there’s about a 50/50 chance that most of them will sneak out to a nearby bar in ten minutes, but at least he warned them ahead of time.

“Night, Hotch,” you had said, giving him a little smile and wave before your door across the hallway clicked shut.

Something warm settled in Hotch’s chest at that, so he did the most reasonable thing to cope with the unfamiliar and turned the TV on to a random news channel. With the volume on low and his laptop and files laid out on the rickety table, he got to work.

Several hours pass like that as he throws himself into the fine print, going over everyone’s action reports from last week and shuffling through old crime photos to make sure everything matched. It was a familiar process, and almost concerning with how much comfort he’s found in it—the scratch of his pen, the drone of the city several floors down, and the growing smudge of ink on his hand from his thoughts running faster than he could write.

When he gets to your report and notices it’s missing several key points of the case, as well as your loopy signature, he frowns.

The immediate thought that comes to mind would be to just put the file aside and move onto the other one. It wasn’t as if the report was due this second and he knows there were plenty of others that required more immediate attention.

The other thought that emerges, almost reluctantly, was that Hotch could easily go across the hallway and ask you to take a look at it and finish the report rather than waiting for the following morning on the jet when the rest of the team was undoubtedly going to be hungover. Prentiss was most certainly going to be cranky and demand everyone to be quiet because the hum of the jet was already grating enough. He’d just be doing the team a favor.

That’s what Hotch tells himself as he stands up from the low desk, neck and back aching, and makes his way out his room and to yours across the hall.

He briefly pauses, straining his ears as if he could hear anything through the door and over the erratic thumping of his own heart. Hotch is suddenly aware that you may be sleeping, or even out with the rest of the ladies to a sleazy bar, and he’s about to turn back around with defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders when he hears the click of the bathroom door open and your humming, faint even through the thick wooden door.

Feeling confident that he’s not disturbing you and something else Hotch can’t name at the fact that he’s going to be seeing you in the privacy of your hotel room, he raps twice against the door.

“Just a second!” And then the door swings open.

Hotch’s attention is immediately caught by the fluffy headband you’re wearing, light pink and with a comically large bow in the center. You’ve clearly just gotten out of the shower, the scent of your body wash infiltrating Hotch’s senses and causing him to tighten his grip on the files he forgot he was holding in the first place.

You’re wearing a matching set of light blue pajamas, short and clinging to your body in a way that has Hotch immediately tearing his gaze away and back to your bare face. Your lips are glossy, slicker than normal, there’s a drop of water slowly trailing down the side of your neck, and a dab of cream on your cheek that you seem to have not noticed.

“Hotch?” you ask, confused, before letting out a squeak and crossing your arms over your chest in an effort to hide your modesty. Hotch ignores the fact that it just makes everything worse. “Is everything okay? Don’t tell me there’s a case.”

The droplet of water has disappeared underneath the collar of your shirt and the scent of vanilla nearly suffocates him. “No case. Just needed to get your final touches and signature on this report.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained to you as it does to him as he remembers why he was standing in your hotel doorway in the first place, the files in his hand suddenly weighing like a ton.

You don’t seem to notice anything wrong, if anything, a slow smile spreads across your face that has Hotch’s stomach flipping.

You look radiant, the intimacy of being near you in your pajamas when you were clearly in the middle of your nighttime routine not going unnoticed. He peers over the top of your head to notice your go bag on your bed, clothes and your personal laptop strewn all over the comforter, and the TV being tuned to what you’d call an “entertaining yet trashy show.”

“You’re still working even though you’re the one who suggested having an early night? It’s late.”

Hotch blinks at you because what else would he have done if not attempt to catch up on the seemingly never-ending pile of papers and reports? “You’re still up late too.”

You roll your eyes. “I was just about to go to bed before you knocked, so technically I have better work-life boundaries than you.”

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

You study him—still wearing his suit sans the jacket, tie only slightly loosened and sleeves rolled up his forearms. He hadn’t even bothered to put his shoes back on, comfortable enough with the hotel’s reputation to be in his room and take the two steps across the carpeted hallway in his socks.

“As long as you make it fast.” And then you’re stepping aside and opening the door further, the sweetness of the vanilla nearly pulling Hotch in.

Except he’s somehow distracted by the dollop of cream still on your cheek, right underneath your eye. Witnessing first-hand the twinkling of your eyes as you glance up at him and the way your pink headband has your hair pushed back, baring the most of your face he’s ever seen, has him sidetracked.

“You have a little…” He motions to his own face, hoping that you will take the hint.

And you don’t, not exactly, because of course you don’t. You immediately swipe at your face but on the wrong cheek and stare down at your hand when you don’t catch anything. “What?”

Hotch is a problem-solver, meticulous, and always thinks things through. That’s his job, to always be two steps ahead of anyone and everyone. So he’s not sure how or why he’s suddenly reaching a hand out to swipe at the cream on your face with his thumb, his touch lingering on the warmth of your cheek.

Whatever Hotch was going to say dies in his throat at the very audible hitch of your breath, the way your eyes widen at his close proximity. Your skin is smooth, softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he ignores the way you’re staring into him as he pulls back and absentmindedly rubs the moisturizer in the palm of his other hand. If he tries hard enough, the cream on his own skin nearly replicates the feeling of yours.

He's about to clear his throat to apologize, maybe even mention something about how the report can technically wait until tomorrow and turn right on his heel back into his room to ignore the adamant weight pressing down on his chest, when your expression changes.

Something almost akin to smugness tugs at the corners of your lips, the shininess inexplicably different and more distracting than your usual lipstick. Your bright eyes dance with amusement before your arms fall from where they were crossed on your chest to your sides.

“You know, I’m wearing a lip mask right now if you want some of that too.”

“Excuse me?”

If possible, your grin widens, causing Hotch to internally deny that he was suddenly feeling breathless. “I use a lip mask every night. They just make them look so kissable, right?”

Something in Hotch snaps, because if that wasn’t a clear invitation, he doesn’t know what is.

When he finally steps into your room, closing the door behind him, you’re slowly backing up until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall with that infuriating grin on your face.

You’re playing with him, you’ve been playing with him, but he doesn’t care and can’t even think about that when you’re peering up at him with soft eyes.

When Hotch brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, he thinks his stomach nearly twists itself into a knot at the immediate way you lean into him and the way your eyes flutter shut.

When he finally kisses you, he can smell the sweetness of the raspberry lip mask before he tastes it, seamlessly blending in with your vanilla body wash and making him feel more drunk than he’s felt in a long time.

You place your hands on his chest, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and something about touching him has you unconsciously parting your lips to deepen the kiss, causing the smell of raspberry to become stronger.

Hotch can immediately feel the stickiness of your mask on his mouth, and he’s tempted to pull away at the unfamiliarity of something on his lips, but then you’re sighing into him and his hands are suddenly on your waist where the bottom of your pajama top has barely lifted. The warmth of your skin was intoxicating.

You have to be the first one to break the kiss, and when Hotch opens his eyes, you’re staring at him, your smirk having morphed into a smile of disbelief. His eyes flit to the almost imperceptible smear of gloss at the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little…” You trail off, your eyes drifting to his own lips, your smile doing nothing to calm the erratic rhythm Hotch’s heart has taken.

Hotch wonders how much you had put on yourself because the amount that he can feel on his lips makes him immediately want to swipe at his mouth. But that would mean having to take his hands off of you and he doesn’t think he has the willpower for that.

Instead, he rubs his lips together in an effort to spread the tackiness equally over his lips before he says “I like it, but I don’t think I got enough.”

You huff a laugh at that, your fingers tightening from where they’re gripping the lapels of his dress shirt. “I think I can help you with that.”

five.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Just five more minutes, I promise!”

That’s what you had said ten minutes ago. It’s not like Hotch is impatient per se, just content that you had agreed to sleep over again after another late date night and there wasn’t a looming case coming up.

You had only slept over one other time when the team had gotten back from a case late and Hotch wasn’t going to let you drive yourself home when you could barely keep yourself standing. You had dozed off the entire car ride home, head leaning against the window which caused Hotch to adamantly avoid all the potholes and tight turns, and yet you still managed to do your skincare routine in his ensuite bathroom before coming to bed.

After that night in your hotel room, you’ve become bolder. You’re now sitting next to Hotch on the jet, you make your way up to his office when there were still plenty of people milling about in the bullpen, and the way you peer up at him through your eyelashes during case briefings has him itching for a cold shower.

Neither have you said anything to the rest of the team, but at this point, Hotch doesn’t think he has to with the way both Dave and Morgan have patted him on the back the day after you laughed at something Emily had said and leaned against him, leaving his shoulder thrumming from your warmth for the next hour.

Another five minutes pass and Hotch can still hear the clinking of your serums as you rummage through your cosmetics bag. He silently sets aside his phone to get up from his extremely comfortable spot in the bed to pad his way over to the bathroom.

The sight that greets him has Hotch’s stomach plummeting all over again.

You’re sporting that same headband with the pink bow again, however this time, you’re wearing one of his old academy shirts that had mysteriously gone missing from his dresser several weeks ago. You’re freshly showered and you’re holding onto some kind of strangely shaped metallic instrument that you’re scraping over your cheekbones and then down your neck. The way it drags over your skin has Hotch cringing sympathetically.

You immediately spot him, meeting his gaze through the mirror, and the way your eyes immediately light up has a small smile forming on Hotch’s face before he can help it. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” Hotch leans against the doorway, content to watch the clearly practiced movements of you rubbing your skin with this strange contraption. “It’s been over five minutes.”

You pout. “Sorry, I’ve been holding this off all week and I need to do it tonight.”

Hotch was sure that “need” was a strong word, but he doesn’t question it. He stopped questioning your thorough skincare routine months ago.

And then you turn to him, something mischievous tugging at your glossy lips. “Wanna try it?”

Apprehension thuds in his chest, but he takes a step forward into the glow of the bathroom anyway. “And what is it exactly?”

Detecting your hesitation a mile away, you give him a warm smile as you hold it up to him. “It’s called a gua sha. It’s supposed to help with blood flow and getting rid of toxins and all that.”

Hotch may not be a beauty or skincare expert, but he has doubts that this piece of metal can actually do all of those things. To be fair, he’s had quite a few doubts about most of the items you use and not so subtly make him try.

The delight painted clear on your face though has Hotch tucking those thoughts away. He’s sure he has no right to question one’s own method on how to relax.

“Okay.”

You immediately muffle a squeal and turn to grab some other serum you left out on the sink, a light gold swimming around in the bottle.

“I’ll only do half of your face, I promise.” You squeeze some of the mysterious liquid on your hands and reach up to pat the left side of his face.

It’s thicker than your usual products, most likely some kind of oil that smells like roses, but the heat from your hand and your close proximity has Hotch feeling inexplicably warm all over.

“Okay, now you just use this side to run up your cheekbone like this.” You demonstrate for him and he adamantly makes note of the light pressure you’re using. “And then you run it down your face and down your neck.”

When he attempts to copy your movements with the warm metal, he doesn’t notice any difference in how his skin feels or the blood flow in his face, but you’re studying him so closely that Hotch is tempted to say he does.

It’s a strange sensation, but honestly it doesn’t feel any different than if he used his own fingers to rub up against his cheekbone or jawline.

When he puts the piece of metal back in your open palm, you’re nearly teeming with excitement. “So, what do you think?”

He pauses. “I don’t think it’s for me, sweetheart.”

You pout but he can tell that you’re not offended. “Boo. Fine, I’ll meet you in bed, handsome.”

Hotch is about to turn back to go to bed before he remembers the thick oil covering half of his face, evenly dispersed but still uncomfortable and will surely stain his pillowcase. He attempts to discreetly wipe at it with his hand as best as he can before quickly rubbing it off on your arm and escaping.

The screech you let out echoes in his bathroom as you try to swat at him and narrowly miss, and the way he feels heat tinge at the tip of his ears is better than any metallic contraption’s claim to improve blood flow.

On his days off, Hotch much prefers spending as much time as he can at home, either with Jack, you, or, more recently, both. Even if Hotch technically sees you every day in the bullpen, you at work is much different than the you at home.

Or at least, he likes to think there’s a difference as you drag him to the grocery store during what was possibly the quietest afternoon he’s had in several months.

I just have to pick up a couple of things, you had said as you buckle your seatbelt in the passenger side. We’ll be back home in a jiffy.

Never mind the fact that the word home coming from your lips has Hotch’s mind reeling. You’ve been seeing each other for several months now and he’s almost sure that you haven’t stepped foot in your own apartment for at least a month. You’ve taken up half of his dresser, most of his closet space, and the entirety of the counter space in the bathroom with your multi-colored serums and skincare tools that don’t work no matter what you claim.

He follows you around the store, dutifully pushing the grocery cart, as you mentally go through your checklist on all the toiletries you’re almost out of. Which is why he finds himself in the cosmetics aisle when you exclaim “Oh, I forgot about tomatoes for taco Tuesday!” and scamper off before he could say there were plenty of tomatoes from last time in the fridge because Jack has suddenly decided he doesn’t like them anymore.

He's content to wait, maybe check his emails on his phone, when he spots the familiar label of his face wash out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a brand that Haley had recommended for him when they were in college and Hotch knew absolutely nothing about skincare then, so he just continued buying it. He’s gone through countless bottles over the years, having used it nearly every day, yet Hotch finds himself frowning as he stares at the bright orange bottle.

The large bold letters advertise the cleanser being able to effectively combat oiliness, but Hotch distinctly remembers you offhandedly mentioning how lucky he was to have dry skin and not a combination like you.

Honestly, he had no idea, but it would make sense with how you were constantly slathering him in lotions and creams any chance you got.

He browses through the available cleansers, keeping an eye out for those that treat dry skin, when you sidle up next to him with a bag of tomatoes that were undoubtedly not going to get eaten. He can hear the hesitation in your voice when you ask “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something different.”

“Oh yeah? I knew I was wearing you down, Hotchner. Soon, you’re going to be begging me to take you to Sephora.” You’re joking but Hotch can detect the underlying seriousness in your voice.

He continues as if he didn’t hear you. “I’ve been using the wrong face wash for my skin so I’m looking for a different one. I probably haven’t been doing my skin any favors all these years.”

A pause. And then, incredulously, you say “Who taught you that?”

Finding one that was a good size and affordable enough to try, Hotch grabs it and throws it into the cart. When he meets your eyes, you’re staring up at him with a disbelieving smile.

“You did.” And it’s true—Hotch would’ve never thought about the long-term benefits of having a humidifier in the bedroom or the importance of sunscreen everyday if it weren’t for you. Taking care of your appearance was clearly important to you, which meant it was now important to him.

You stare at him, lips parted as if you’re at a loss for words. Your skin is glowing even under the harsh fluorescent grocery store lighting. “You’re such a sweet talker, you know that?”

You toss the tomatoes in the cart, making him wince, and loop your arm through his to tug him along the aisle. You smell sugary sweet with maybe a hint of his cologne from where you had slept in one of his old shirts last night. Hotch remembers how he had felt lightheaded, fondness flooding his chest, when he woke to you laying on his chest this morning. He tugs you closer into his side.

“Does this mean that you’ll try that new light therapy mask that I bought?”

“One step at a time, honey.”

taglist <3 @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #mine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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amyzworldds · 2 months ago

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Title: Long Hair, Don’t Care

During Seventeen’s Right Here World Tour, Dino’s decision to grow out his hair—thanks to his girlfriend's endless praise—sparks a fan frenzy. Pairing: Dino x reader Genre: Fluff, humor

The Right Here World Tour had Seventeen dominating stages worldwide, and Dino—your unfairly charming boyfriend—was having a moment. It all started when he decided to skip the haircuts after you’d raved about his longer locks at the tour’s start in Seoul. “It suits you so well,” you’d said, twirling a strand around your finger, and boom—Dino was hooked. No scissors dared come near him after that.

Now, months into the tour, his hair was long—like, poking-his-eyes, flipping-it-back-every-chorus long. You were smitten. Every time he brushed it off his face mid-performance, you’d catch yourself grinning like a total sap. And the fans? They were just as feral. Facebook and tiktok were a battlefield of Dino hype: grainy soundcheck pics, fan cams of him shaking out his bangs, captioned with pure chaos. “If not boyfriend, then why boyfriend shape?” one fan demanded. Another fired off, “If not boyfriend, stop being boyfriendable, I’m on my knees.” Someone even joked, “Dino’s hair is longer than my last relationship—hide the scissors!”

Then there were the conspiracy theories. Fans were dissecting his glow like it was a crime scene. “No way he’s this fine without a girlfriend,” one wrote under a dreamy selca. “That hair, that smile—someone’s loving him right, and it’s not just carats.” Another added, “He’s too boyfriendable to be single. I bet he’s got a secret lover keeping him that shiny.”

You, his very real and very proud girlfriend, were thriving. Your phone was a shrine to this long-haired Dino era—your gallery overflowing with fan-taken soundcheck pics you’d saved from social media. Before your nightly video call ritual, you couldn’t resist texting him a screenshot of your camera roll: rows of Dino mid-hair-flip, looking ethereal. “Babe,” you typed, “I think I need a new phone. My storage’s crying—512GB isn’t enough for all this boyfriend material.”

Minutes later, Dino replied from his hotel room fresh off stage: “You’re ridiculous. How many pics do you even have?!” You smirked, firing back, “Enough to crash my phone. Blame the fans—they’re feeding my obsession.”

When the video call finally connected, there he was—sprawled on his bed, hair a gorgeous mess, still buzzing from the show. “Babe,” you said, smirking at him through the screen as you propped your phone up. “Your fans are wild. My gallery’s a disaster because of you—soundcheck pics are taking over my life. And they’re saying stuff like, ‘If not boyfriend, then why boyfriend shape?’ I’m dying.”

Dino laughed, that bright, heart-melting laugh you lived for, running a hand through his bangs only for them to flop right back. “Boyfriend shape? What am I, a Ken doll?”

“Pretty much,” you teased. “They’re also onto you. They’re like, ‘He’s glowing too much, he’s got a girlfriend for sure.’ They’re sniffing me out!”

He grinned, leaning closer to the camera. “Well, they’re not wrong. I’ve got the best girlfriend hoarding pics of me like a stalker. And didn’t someone beg me to keep the hair long because it ‘suits me so well’?”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “Okay, rude, calling me a stalker when I’m just appreciating art! But yeah, I did say that… and now I’m regretting it because the fans are out here calling you boyfriendable, and I’m over here like, ‘Back off, that’s my boyfriend shape!’”

Dino smirked, tilting his head so his hair fell even more into his eyes. “Oh, now you’re jealous? You were all, ‘Baby, it’s so sexy, never cut it,’ and now I’m too boyfriendable for you?”

“Exactly!” you shot back, giggling. “I’ve created a monster. My phone’s dying, the fans are feral—I might have to sneak into one of your concerts with scissors and chop those bangs off so they stop making edits of you looking like a K-drama lead.”

He clutched his hair protectively. “Don’t you dare! You’re the reason I’m out here looking like a mop with a skincare routine. This is your fault, babe.”

“A mop?!” you cackled. “More like a shiny, boyfriend-shaped mop. They’re right—you’re too pretty to be single. Good thing I’ve got you locked down.”

“Locked down?” he teased, pushing his hair back again. “You’re the one filling your phone with my pics. I’m keeping this mess because you love it and the fans love it. I’m winning for Team Long Hair.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine, you win. But when the tour’s over, I’m braiding it. Maybe slapping a bow on it. Gotta remind them who’s got the real claim.”

Dino chuckled, smiling as he shook his head. “Deal. But I’m only this boyfriendable because of you, you know that, right?”

You softened, smiling back at him. “And I’m only this obsessed because of you, you know that, right?”

“Touché,” he said, blowing you a kiss through the screen. “Love you, stalker.”

“Love you too, boyfriend shape,” you replied, winking.

-----------------------------------------------------------an: please, I can’t get over Dino’s long hair pics from sound check—it’ll be my cause of ☠️😭

#seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x oc #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x you #seventeen scenario #seventeen x carat #seventeen comfort #seventeen dino #svt #lee chan #dino svt #seventeen carat #dino x you #dino x reader #dino x y/n

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diz-eaze · 2 months ago

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please please please can you please write more modern au scara x reader 🥺🥺🙏🏻🙏🏻 feed… me…. a continuation of the latest one where he uses technology to stalk reader and become their roommate :3

luv ur writing!!!! it’s so humorous and lighthearted while still itching that yandere scratch idk.

even if u dont write a sequel just wanted to say i loved it <3 have a nice day

; thank u so so much ahhhh !! I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS ON MODERN AU SCARA TEEHEE (and just him in general... 4ever a scaranator). my indulgence is writing yanderes in a lowkey comical manner like yesss they are mentally ill but at least they're serving entertainment while you're in captivity !! like we honestly need more yanderes put into unserious-not-so-unserious situations <3 bc imagine seeing this one guy (scara) from your massive college campus being so deranged and unhinged about you and going... "wait,,, that's irl oomf??" NEGATIVE AURA I FEAR. anyways this isn't proofread bc I just barfed this out, so sorry for any mistakes! <3

; continuation to this post

; yandere, minor nsfw content, cyberstalker to roommate scara pipeline, gooner scara :D, half serious half silly, creepy behavior, do nawt be like roomie scara </3

additional yandere scara thoughts !!

an hour into being roommates, you convinced him to download snapchat just so you can have a snapstreak with him. he puts up a facade of being a nonchalant, cool, and mysterious guy (he consulted the online forums on what traits many people his age found attractive so now he's rolling with it until he's buried six feet under) so he cooly (not) rolls his eyes before taking his phone out. in your excitement, you crowd around him while he takes his time setting up an account (he's dying with joy inside bc !! ur so close to him !!).

you tell him upfront that this snapstreak shit is serious business for you and that you'd kick him out if he misses a day and he takes it so seriously, he would never intend to miss a snap from you in the first place, but your words caused him to lock the fuck in. so now every night, the moment the clock turn 00:00, trust and believe you'll receive a snap from him to continue your streak. it doesn't matter if you're awake or not, he is sending that shit asap ! (and yes, he does screenshot every snap you send to him and keeps it in a private folder in his gallery to look at whenever he hasn't talked to you in 3 minutes MAXIMUM.)

manifestations DO come true because now he's mutuals with not only your facebook account, but also on twitter ! life is a game and scara is a winner at it. he keeps his dump accounts a secret from you, it's for the better because if you looked at it, you'd send him away to a psych ward and, well, he doesn't want to be separated from you.

your facebook account is a private account, so scara couldn't infiltrate it back then. but the moment you accepted his friend request post-roommates era, the floodgates had opened. that night, he impatiently waited for you to retreat to your room so that he can eagerly and peacefully scroll through your entire account from most recent to oldest. he stayed up all night just screenshotting and saving any pictures you posted to his 3053 terabyte storage computer. he makes it his life mission to max the computer storage with every bit of information he can find on you, both internet and real-life (he documents it down the moment you look away from him).

inside his dump account on twitter, he retweets the mush gushy tweets that are like, "me and my partner don't argue, they tell me to shut up and I do" knowing damn WELL he's not in a relationship with you. but that's okay. because this is him manifesting you into making it happen. also randomly posts pictures of you accidentally falling asleep on the couch mid-study session with the caption, ":) so cute" ... ok!! this jackass thinks he's boyfriendcore 😂😂😂 like no put down that phone because you belong in a mental asylum sir.

he doesn't use reddit anymore because one time, he vaguely described your personality in a post of him asking for help to romance you, and some random in the comments called you unsavory names. he crashed out so bad that he called up his estranged mother (ei) just so he could get the connections to doxx them and ruin their life in the same breath. he hates it when other people perceive you because, in his head, they're severely mischaracterizing you as a person.

HE DEFINITELY TERRORIZES YOUR INSTRAGRAM NGL !! every morning, without fail, you wake up and find that some anonymous user is viciously yearning for you in your NGL confessions, and every time, you shrug it off because you think it's one of your friends playing a prank on you. "I want to be the towel you used earlier during your P.E class. I'm so jealous, I wished it was me licking your sweat away :(", "can you chew me the way you chewed on the cap of your pen.", "I love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you." ...err, how about we take a step back? :). but no. it's actually your roommate who sits across from you while you eat breakfast together. he definitely throws up in jealousy when he sees you post an NGL confession that he did NOT write !! the only yearner allowed in your life is him btw. it's the only morally correct answer.

during the dark times (pre-roommate era), a tale as old as time, but scara definitely used pornhub to jack off to anyone that resembled you and !! closed his eyes while doing so because in his head he truly just envisions him and you in the place of the actors. he was in so deep into it, he made an excel sheet that categorized actors based on how close they were to looking and acting like you. sigh. he no longer does this now that he's in such close proximity to you, just being in your presence alone supplies him with enough goon material to last him through the entire month.

small freakymouche interlude

entering true freak territory, cyberstalker-era scara was definitely so thirsty for you (i mean. he still is). sometimes, jerking off to porn that contain actors that resemble you isn't close to enough, he actually needs you. and looking at your LinkedIn profile would normally set him off the edge, but even that won't cut it occasionally. some days, he jerks off for hours - fist pumping his cock repeatedly, desparately, yet he's never able to come because he hasn't seen you in any of his classes yet :( but when he does... oh. You probably only shared one (1) class with him, and there's a chance you didn't even sit near him at all - but archons, just seeing you in real-life with his own eyes and not through the screen of his phone is enough for his dick to harden up. he quickly excuses himself 15 minutes into class so that he can have an emergency jerk session in one of the bathroom stalls. heavens forbid if you greet him that day because now he's doubling his jerk session just from your voice alone.

One time, he was aimlessly scrolling through his facebook timeline when one of your mutual friends posted a beach outing picture with your body being so exposed in ways he never thought he'd actually see (err, view). the way the golden sunlight only served to make your body seem so heavenly, so utterly temping - he started salivating. he almost detached his dick off of his body from how hard he was beating it that day :( that (cropped) group photo is still one of his top faves and he still looks at it every night before he goes to bed.

roommate scara is still working up the courage to one day sneak into your room while you're out so that he can obtain high-quality goon material. but for now he'll settle for accidental touches (that he definitely did NOT plan). one day, he swears it on EVERYONE'S soul.

there's a piece of sock you left behind in the living room and never saw again. when asked about it, scara will shrug and say he doesn't know where it could be. you assume you must have accidentally thrown it away during landry session. in reality, his dick has violated your sock so much it's become so crusty and icky.

speaking of laundry... roommate scara is definitely a loyal volunteer of doing both his and your laundry due to his... personal agenda. said agenda involves him inhaling every piece of worn clothing you have until he memorizes it before throwing it onto the washing machine. it's definitely his second favorite chore to do.

his favorite chore to do is washing the dishes !! this is because he licks all the utensils you used and even licks off any spare sauce, rice, noodle, etc. left behind on your plate :) this way, you're indirectly kissing him <3

but it's okay if he's gooning 24/7, because he's gooning out of affection. he's doing it for the love of the game !

closing thoughts <3

scara would very much rather shoot his foot with a gun than let anyone inside your shared living space. he's the ultimate gatekeeper. he claims he simply doesn't want anyone intruding his peace but he's just derangely jealous I fear.

scara runs LAPS around your dorm the moment you're even a MINUTE late from the time you told him you'd be home by. oh, it's 7:31PM even though you told him you'd be at the dorm by 7:30PM? yeah, your phone is going to get blown up by his spam messages.

he already planned out your entire marriage and vows in his mind. even has it saved on a google doc.

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willowsnook · 4 months ago

Text

an experiment pt. 4

lando norris x reporter!reader

a/n: this is the final part friends. hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this. thank you for all the kind words

tags: @sarx164 @wildflowerrsszz, @jaematthews15, @opastries81 @armystay89 @hadesnumber1daughter @dying-inside-but-its-classy@chlmtfilms@freyathehuntress @ashley-k@charlesgirl16@widow-cevans@cmleitora@rawr-123s-stuff@majapapaya4@fullmugwolffish @330bpm-whiplash @prudyhoo

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3

------------------------------------------------

You sat in complete silence for five minutes.

That fucking asshole.

A wave of rage fueled you as you bolted up and to your bedroom, ripping out your suitcase from underneath the bed. Muttering under your breath about that man having the audacity to hang up, you started pulling clothes out of your drawers and shoving them into the bag.

Once that was done you got on your laptop to find the next flight to Monaco. The prices made you want to throw up but in your pissed off state, you didn’t care. This is why credit cards exist, right?

13 hour redeye. Godspeed.

—-----------------------

It was 4:30 in the morning when Lando woke up to someone pounding on his door. What the fuck? He thought before getting out of the bed, rubbing his eyes as he made it to the door.

To say he was shocked when he saw you standing there was an understatement.

“I can’t believe you hung up the phone on me,” you yelled at him angrily in greeting, moving past him to set your bag down.

“What are you doing here?” He asked sleepily, trying to figure out if this was a dream or reality.

“I’m here to fight you,” you told him, crossing your arms.

“You want to fight me?” He asked, confusion on his face. “Can we do that later? It’s five in the morning.”

You wanted to argue back with him but a yawn escaped your mouth and he gave you a knowing look.

“Fine, I didn’t really sleep on the plane anyways,” you admitted. “Too busy figuring out what to yell at you.”

He chuckled before beckoning you to follow him down the hall, you stopped outside of his room.

“Do you not have a guest room?” You asked and he smirked at you.

“I do but right now it’s a storage unit for a bunch of racing stuff, so this will have to do,” he said.

“Can’t you sleep on the couch or something?” You complained and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh so you confess your love to me on the phone but are getting cold feet now?” He mocked.

“I didn’t confess my love, I just said that I maybe missed you,” you grumbled, slipping off your shoes. Lando watched as you walked over to his dresser, digging around until you found one of his bigger t-shirts to change into.

“No cuddling,” you warned as you got into the bed, pulling the covers all around you. Lando respected your statement, sticking to his side of the bed as you drifted off.

You startled awake to the sound of someone else pounding on the door. Lando had shifted over during your nap, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

“You’re joking,” he mumbled into your neck. You squirmed to get out of his hold.

“I told you no cuddling,” you grumbled back at him. You started to throw another insult at him but he jerked your chin towards him, pressing his lips harshly against yours before getting up.

“I don’t care,” he said. Catching your breath, you heard him greet whoever was at the door, the spanish accent you would recognize from anywhere.

Carlos was in the kitchen talking to Lando as you entered, his eyes widened at the sight of you, especially in the very minimal clothing.

“Y/n!” He exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. “I see Lando finally came to his senses.”

“No, she just showed up at my door this morning,” Lando said, annoyed. Carlos smirked at his friend before turning to you.

“Seems like it was a nice reunion,” he teased, eyeing you up and down.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you chastised. “We just took a nap, we have a big fight between us on the schedule today.”

“Well it’ll have to wait because Lando and I are doing a Quadrant shoot in an hour,” Carlos said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll just catch up on work here.”

Lando shook his head, “if you think I’m letting you out of my sight again, you’re very mistaken. You are coming with us.”

You started to argue but the glare he sent your direction shut you up. Carlos waited as you both got ready and then you were off. Lando drove to the sight, his hand gripping your thigh tightly while Carlos smiled to himself in the back. Just happy his friends were together and hadn’t killed one another yet.

Everyone was already there when you arrived and you let Lando drag you along to where Max was with the cameras.

“Y/n,” he greeted, surprised. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” you said, catching the smirk he sent Lando’s way. Lando and Carlos were whisked away to shoot and you hung out with Max in the meantime.

“Lando didn’t tell me you were coming to Monaco,” Max said.

“I didn’t tell him I was coming,” you told him and he nodded.

“That would explain why he was still all pissy yesterday. Been that way honestly since you kicked him out of Austin.”

“I didn’t kick him out of Austin,” you grumbled but Max’s face made you sigh. “Okay fine maybe I did, but I made a mistake.”

“Does he know that’s how you feel?” Max asked.

“Oh yeah he does, I told him and then he hung up on me immediately,” you said and Max let out a sharp laugh.

Max laughed, shaking his head. "Classic Lando. He's been moping for months, and when you finally reach out, he panics and hangs up. No wonder you flew all the way here."

You sighed, watching Lando pose for photos with Carlos. "I don't know what I was thinking, honestly. We still have so much to figure out."

Max nudged your shoulder. "Hey, the fact that you're both here, willing to try, that's a good start. Just... talk to each other, yeah? No more running away or hanging up phones."

You nodded, offering him a small smile. "Thanks, Max. When did you get so wise?"

He grinned. "I've always been wise. You lot just never listen to me."

As the shoot wrapped up, Lando made his way back over to you, his eyes darting between you and Max, a feeling of jealousy creep up his spine at the way you were laughing with his best friend.

Max was explaining a new project they were working on when you felt two arms wrap around your waist and a chin settle on your shoulder.

“All done?” You asked him softly.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Ready to go?”

—------------------------

You waited for Lando as he showered, twiddling your thumbs anxiously knowing that the conversation you’d been avoiding was looming.

When he finally emerged, damp curls falling messily over his forehead, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, you had to force yourself to focus. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“So,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, “are we actually going to talk, or did you just fly all the way here to yell at me some more?”

Your jaw clenched. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re talking. But I make no promises about the yelling.”

Lando scoffed, dropping the towel onto a chair. “Right. Because it’s all my fault, isn’t it?”

You shot up from your seat. “You hung up on me, Lando! After everything—after months of silence—you didn’t even have the decency to listen to me!”

His nostrils flared. “And what was I supposed to do, huh? Just pretend like it didn’t rip me apart when you pushed me away? That I was just waiting for you to decide I was worth calling?”

“I never said you weren’t worth it!” you snapped. “I was scared, okay? I panicked! But at least I’m here, trying! You—” You jabbed a finger into his chest. “You just ran away like a coward!”

Lando grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not rough. “Coward? Are you serious? You were the one who shut me out, Y/n! I gave you everything, and you threw it away like it didn’t mean anything!”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snapped, yanking your hand free. “You don’t get to act like the victim here. I was scared, yes, but you didn’t fight for me either! You just let me go and then acted like I never existed!”

His jaw clenched. “Because I didn’t know what the hell you wanted! One second, we were good, and the next, you were pushing me out like I was nothing.”

“That’s bullshit,” you seethed. “You knew how I felt about you, and instead of trying to talk to me, you let your ego get in the way.”

Lando let out a sharp laugh, running a hand through his hair. “My ego? Jesus Christ, Y/n, you really think this was about my ego?”

“What else would it be about?” you shot back.

His hands balled into fists at his sides. “It was about the fact that I was falling in love with you, and you just—” He exhaled harshly. “You shut down when things got hard. You didn’t trust me enough to stay.”

Your breath hitched, the words slicing through your anger like a knife.

Lando’s chest rose and fell heavily, the weight of what he’d just said hanging between you. You swallowed, hands trembling as you clenched them at your sides.

“And what about you?” you whispered. “You say I didn’t trust you, but you didn’t fight for me either. You let me walk away.”

Lando’s eyes darkened. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

Silence.

You both stood there, breathing hard, staring at each other like two opposing forces in an inevitable collision.

Lando was the first to move. One step forward. Then another. Until he was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“They told me I could have the F1 assignment if I wanted it,” you whispered.

His hands hovered near your arms, uncertain. “And do you?” he asked, voice low, rough.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “If you still want me to.”

A beat of hesitation.

And then he reached for you.

You didn’t stop him. Didn’t push him away. His lips crashed onto yours, desperate, angry, needing. You matched his intensity, fingers curling into his damp curls, pulling him closer as if you could make up for all the lost time in one kiss.

When you finally pulled away, foreheads pressed together, you exhaled shakily.

“No more running,” you murmured.

Lando nodded. “No more hanging up.”

You cracked a small smile. “And no more being a dick?”

He chuckled, pressing another quick kiss to your lips. “No promises.”

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader

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shotofstress · 3 months ago

Text

In August of 2024 I was without electricity, phone, and internet connection because huge storms with lightning, rain, and winds. We even have floods, the roof is full of holes so it rain inside every year as well floods, but now with the state of the weather things are much worst. We had never have winds like that here. At this rate, in 4 years we will have tornadoes, a thing we have never ever have here (edit: may 25th 2025 we had our first tornado in the south of the country, we are fucked). Nor our lands, infrastructures, and culture are prepared for this. Many haven't recovered from this nor any of past natural disasters.

Then spring and summer came, and bc all the destruction of our nature and the draught territories the little forests that are left of our native trees and plants caught fire with the pines throughout different regions a number of times.

Companies and its countries are stealing our water for mining, for avocados, strawberries and other native fruts and veggies that I can't buy to eat bc are sent to other countries, planting non-native pines to cut down and sell the wood to the world and have dried up the land, causing more and more fires, more and more deaths every year. On 13 February alone, there were forest fires in six municipalities in one region and 14 fires were burning. The emergency has left more than 20,800 hectares burned by the flames, as well as 44 victims and 28 houses destroyed in those days alone. There have been fires every week for months. The last few weeks it is almost every day somewhere in the country.

The goverment can't fix the country bc we still live under the dictatorship constitution and its politicians and families, and the president has being constantly attacked by the pro dictatorship groups from our country and others, fake news, terror campaings, etc, even the ensurance company group, the one that has Principal (AFP Cuprum), Metlife (AFP Provida), and Prudential (AFP Habitat) threatened my president this month because he and our chambers proposed and made slight improvements to the system because private companies of ensurance and pensions (that are from USA of course) have millions getting sick, disabled or dying because they can't afford medical care nor anything.

This threat was issued by David Chavern, president and CEO of the American Council of Life Insurers in the form of a letter to the extent that it was made known to the public. I can't ignore that one of the groups that also has their ensurance company here is UnitedHealthcare that owns Banmédica, another criminal company. Yeah, UHG, the one that had its CEO executed by The Adjuster. Yes, all USA insurance companies in my country are affected by this little change made to try to help my people to stay alive and have a little more of money that still will not make us live with dignity and out of poverty. So, yeah, is easy to say that UHG is more than angry with my country and back then the 1973 coup has made, among other things, to install this evil ensurance system and this companies.

Even in the cities there are fires. This past week I saw 2 fires in just 3 days, with houses on fire just a couple of blocks away from me. Now it has began autumn and, if I take as reference past years, it will not be like it used to be, but just like a winter part 1 now. Is already getting cold in the night and early morning making my articulations hurt, while in the day the heat makes me tired and weak, causing fires.

Last year people helped me, was awesome, but sadly it wasn't enough. I cleaned by hand the black mold from the walls of the storage room where I live and painted a bit with the little anti mold paint I found in an old tin that was left in a closet. Looks better and smells better and made me happy, but the walls are still broken, one of the walls is still not a wall, and the people of the place is still horrible and abusive. I'm still unemployed even when I tried to sell my art works, get a job, sell second hand clothes, find remote work, and even sent a cultural project to the Ministry of Culture to try to get funding and thus have a wage. Nothing worked. I got rejected in all and honestly I can no longer work because of my disability.

My health is getting even worst. Chronic pain, chronic illnesses and long covid are worse and make me more and more disabled with each passing semester. Eating is hard bc gluten free and dairy free food is terribly expensive (I have celiac disease and lactose intolerance) so I keep being hungry every day, i haven't eaten a piece of bread in months, I cant even make my own bc the gas and electricity is expensive as well the flour that I can use. Being autistic and having c-PTSD as well depression and fibromyalgia doesn't help and the violence never ends.

As far as I'm concerned, I've been on my own all my life, my only support is my couple that also helps me as a caregiver sometimes, is the only family I have. We don't live together bc poverty, we can only be thogeter for a little time each year bc non of us has a job (we are both university graduates and are teachers), their roof rains down and floods their house, the food sold in the poorer area is in bad state and in their house quickly grows black mold and we have to eat it. Also has to take care of an abusive old mother that is poisoning him with black mold (that already gives them health problems like allergy, migraine and gut issues, and the father has already died), the neighbours are violent, and I make that the bills are bigger and more.

My couple fears that we end up in the streets, homeless. I fear that they died or that when the dictatorship is installed once again here the neighbours are gonna snitch on us just bc we belive in democracy and my couple is a teacher. Already members of a cult showed up 2 days ago only in this house. In the last big dictatorship people were taken from their houses and jobs (specially students, univeritaries, teachers and culture workers, for example) and some never returned. Others were tortured so much that they died or ended up disabled and traumatized for life.

If u want to help me to fix things, buy food, meds, pay the bills, and being warm this winter please check

my PayPal or MACH

and make a donation, even $1 helps. If u can't donate, please reblog bc thats the only way to make this post circulate thus receiving help.

I don't even want to be in my country bc we will have a dictatorship soon, but I have nowhere else to go nor money to migrate. I need $10.537 dollars or € 9.760,95 euros aprox to pay all the documents, the bank money I need to have to prove I deserve to migrate, the tickets, rent money I have to show, and all that. I have been really thinking in live somewhere else, but no money and countries are having even more restrictions to countries like mine and people like us than before. Also the anti migration and other hate groups and gangs. There is a safe place?

I currently (date 14 April 2025) have $260 dollars donated (coz I spent some in food and meds this past months). We no longer able to pay for our meds and gas for cooking nor warm the place, I'm eating less bc we can't pay for food (I can't buy bread, flour, noodles, etc bc the gluten free lactose free products are really expensive, specially for us). My couple has been a year and a half without a job and there is no sight of one in the next months. Is winter and in the first rain that lasted a few minutes the place again had leaks. You can check the old post here and see a Meet the blogger here.

I thought that it was necessary to make an actualization and a using comprehensible single post, so that's why I made this.

Edit: Three pinochetist agents and a direct nazi descendant (both 3 belive in the nazi values) are running for president in the next presidential election this 2026 and one of them is gonna win. Please, we need to migrate so help me to not die with my couple. This is no longer only asking money to eat, this now is to not be tortured and disappeared. I have less than a year to find a country to migrate and leave. We can speak and read english even if not perfectly. If you know a country that allow political refugees and put less trouble to migrants, please comment.

Edit 2: the ppl with which I live are trying to involving me in their crimes so please help me to leave faster.

Edit 3: my mother in law I think is gonna make us end up on the streets or lie about us bc we are not letting her be abusive and I fear she try to frame us as abusers just bc she is emotionally abusive and can't deal with the fact that we say No and we told her she has to give basic human respect. I think she is lying to extended family as always and put herself as victim and try to damage us more, specially against my couple bc she has always treat them bad. This hell never ends

Help is welcomed, I am still here trying hard, I don't want to die.

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burdenandacrop · 6 months ago

Note

can I pretty please with a cherry on top request fluff like late night gaming fluff 🙏🏻

˗ˏˋ ❝ for you, i'm an insomniac. ❞ ˎˊ˗

this idea is so SO cute, i hope you enjoy ! thank you for your patience for how long this has taken me :,)

summary : schlatt begs you to come over to watch him play re4, he doesn't admit it's because he misses you so he just says it's because of 'how cool it was that he found his old playstation two.'

♯┆established relationship, only fluff, fem reader !

as the covers slowly became one with you, the distress from your work day became nearly invisible. working with the general public wasn't a walk in the park so it was the moments like these that somewhat made it worth it. your eyelids eventually became heavy as you attempted to pay attention to the video that was quietly playing on your tv. whatever youtuber that was talking through the screen was quickly beginning to sound like gibberish as your brain began to completely shut off. seems like your body was actually allowing you to sleep peacefully for the night.

letting out a final sigh before allowing yourself to fully surrender to the exhaustion, closing your eyes and hoping the next day makes up for the last. you were too comfortable to even nudge your tired arm to the remote to shut off the video, your electricity bill would thank you, but that didn't feel necessary in the slightest. just silently thankful that it wasn't another night of taking sleep aid because you were stuck awake at midnight when you had an early morning shift the following day. instead, it was a quiet friday night where you knew you could just seep into your covers until noon if you pleased, just as you'd been begging for in the past five days.

“♪ ding ding! ♪” then went off your phone, immediately making your closed eyes scrunch up in aggravation. it was probably just your friend sending some video, no need to check it. they’d understand in the morning. back to focusing on the soft ambiance of the gibberish you were hearing play from your tv, no need to worry about anything other than sleep.

“♪ ding ding! ♪” sounding off loudly once again from your phone, only making you more frustrated with the insistent noise. whoever was texting you wasn't even giving you a five minute waiting period, if it was your friend, you were more than likely going to bite their head off. your sleep was more important than some funny video, the aggravation was definitely your deprivation talking though. you slowly open up your eyes and narrow your eyes to your phone laying on the nightstand. silently pondering if you should check it, reluctant to say the least. maybe it was important, maybe it was your parent? now the unnecessary anxiety was pushing itself into your system, oh goodie.

you groan and push yourself out of the comfortable position, silently scolding yourself because it was obvious you weren't going to find that perfect balance of comfort in a spot easily again. you groggily sit yourself up and yank the phone into your palm and look at the pestering notification screen, your face slightly softening when your tired brain registered who it was that was ‘bugging’ you.

schlatt <3 : Hey goober. Guess what I found hiding in my storage collecting dust.

schlatt <3 : It's my old PS2 in case you were dying to know. Original RE4 too.

you quietly chuckle to yourself as you get your brain to finally wake up enough to acknowledge what the text actually said, you knew he could be random at times; just was hilarious that he felt the need to text you at near midnight about how he found his old gaming console. you type back to him with a soft grin plastered on your face, a teeny bit curious as to what he was probably wanting out of this late night conversation.

you : you're going through your storage at midnight?

schlatt <3 : Yeah.

schlatt <3 : Why. You gonna judge me?

you : no no lol

schlatt <3 : Thought so.

schlatt <3 : You want to come over? It's good nostalgia.

you eyed the last message for a moment, knowing full well that future you would scold you for passing on a good night's sleep. it had been a bit since you saw him after all; though the logical part of your brain was working its magic apparently.

you : i'm reallyyyy exhausted, maybe tomorrow? :(

schlatt <3 : Oh come on.

schlatt <3 : Visibly showing you the reaction. Yeah.

schlatt <3 : Seriously though, you can sleep at mine. Just sleep on the couch while I play and stuff.

it was getting a bit harder to say no, though the thought of driving the distance to his place felt like a nightmare with how tired you were. you were slowly coming out of your groggy state anyhow, so it was beginning to get even more tempting.

you : so you're not gonna be mad if i immediately pass out when i get there ... that's what you're saying ??

schlatt <3 : Of course not. Just want you to see how cool the console is. Even if it's just a few minutes. Then you can honk shoo all you want, baby.

it was as if anytime this man said 'baby' it activated some neuron in your brain to oblige to whatever he had to say, not that it was necessarily terrible. you sighed and fiddled your thumbs above the screen; hovering over the letters and debating if you'd hate yourself later for what you were about to do.

you : okaaay. i'll be there in a bit, just get it set up and everything. :,)

schlatt <3 : Sweet. Be safe. ❤️

you smiled at his last text and shut your phone's screen off as you propped yourself off the bed, you were still in your sleep attire but you didn't feel like changing; he'd understand obviously. not like he was expecting you to show up in some body-con fit to show off his twenty year old gaming console. you swiftly grabbed your bag and made your way to the front door, little did you know schlatt was being well prepared for a spontaneous night like this.

your body was so tired from the driving, the distance between schlatt and you was not a measly amount. he somehow made it worth it every time though. you made your way out of your car and groggily walked to the front door, holding your arms together when the rash realization hit you from how cold it was. would've been smarter to bring a hoodie of some sort, but whatever. you shake off the shivers and knock on the front door, rocking yourself back and forth to keep some natural body heat going.

the door practically swung open moments after you knocked, being greeted with schlatt smiling like it was christmas morning. he immediately stepped out to the doorway to wrap his arms around you and feverishly kiss the top of your head, seems like he really did miss you; just didn't want to bruise his pride and say that in a text message. he soon stopped with his insistent kisses to your scalp and looked down to your eyes, immediately realizing you were, in fact, exhausted. "oh you poor baby." he quietly chuckled out before taking a step back into the doorway to let you enter, his hand never leaving the small of your back as you made your way inside the much warmer atmosphere.

he rubbed your back gently as he shut the front door and locked it, looking back to you and your improper attire for the weather conditions of the north. "and you're trying to give yourself hypothermia." he sighed out as he let his hand trail to your shoulders, giving the tense tissue a soft squeeze and quickly noticing how tense you were. "wasn't thinking that quickly." you mutter out as you look to him and tiredly grin, in return making him take back the notion of wanting to scold you like a concerned father about your carelessness about your health with such chilly weather. your smile was just too cute for him to try and be upset with when it met his gaze. "well- you'll warm up here fine. days if you want." he jokes, but secretly hoping you'd pick to stay the weekend over at his place instead of wallowing in your apartment.

he had that pleading look complimenting his smile, as if his eyes were doing the begging for him. the temptations were obviously making their works, you sigh and pummel your cheek into the soft fabric of his shirt. the action making him lowly chuckle and wrap his arms around you, engulfed as if he wanted to create a cage around you. a silent 'lovely, won't you please stay?' you let your body weight lean against him with a soft sigh, "this was your plan all along?" you murmur into his chest, you could almost feel the soft nod he was giving you. clicking his tongue before looking down to your head and smiling, "i did want to show you the PS2." he chuckled, knowing he wasn't fooling a soul with his words. upon hearing his reply, you softly raise your head to meet with his eyes once again, "maybe i'm not too tired..." you replied with a grin.

he gently tucked his bottom lip in as he heard your reply, instantly being filled with glee; turns out his plan was going to fall perfectly into place. "i was hoping you'd say that." he practically whispered as he stared into your eyes, then trailing his gaze to the living room in which he set up prior to your arrival. you couldn't help but follow the direction of where his eyes were landing, being pleasantly surprised with the view being given to you. your grip on him softening as you saw the coffee table arranged with your favorite drinks and snacks, as well as a singular PS2 controller laying in the middle. you look back to him in slight shock and smile, "seems like you had a plan?" you questioned with a quiet snicker. he smugly shrugged and took a step back from your grasp and cross his arms, "ah, table just- came to be like that. keep fixing it and it keeps going back to that. i think it might be somethin' paranor-" he snickers out before you cut him off with a gentle kiss, your giggles escaping onto his lips as you pursed your lips against his. his laughter was about one in the same, tuned in with yours as he rubbed the edge of your chin with his fingertips.

your laughter was never fading, only lessening when you gently pulled away from the embrace; looking into his eyes with a smile. "you lead the way then." you mutter out and poke his shoulder with a stiffed giggle, making him just roll his eyes and shake his head. "i got a better idea," he admitted with a rather mischievous expression before giving you a certain look, letting you know what he was plotting silently. you furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head with widened eyes, only making him nod with a widening smile. "no. no!" you exclaim with a smile before he ignored your pleas and grabbed you up by the waist and flopped you onto his shoulder. making you just give up on trying to fight it off at this point. he just giggled and gave you a light tap on the behind before walking the both of you to the living room, "air jail for you not wearing a damn coat." he chuckled out, making you gently kick your legs in protest with a groan. you knew he'd get you for that little blip sooner or later.

he gently placed you on the couch, letting a soft grumble escape his lips. letting himself plop on the couch right beside you and immediately pull you to get close as possible to him, it was incredibly evident he missed you terribly. you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, taking in as much body heat from him as you possibly could; he was practically a heat pad. "you can stay like this as i play, y'know?" he muttered as he eyed the tv with the loading screen glowing in the front of you two. "are you gonna start it up, or are you too cozy?" you reply, tilting your head against him so you could get the perfect up close view of his side profile. "yeah, yeah." he softly snickered out as he reluctantly raised his body up to grab the controller, returning right back to his original position. you watched as his finger darted to the buttons to start up the game, seeing how his face practically lit up when the intro music began playing.

you let your body relax into his as you eyed his movements, noticing the little crook in his brow as he was throughly concentrated on getting the controls correct. "1998 ... i'll never forget it." he softly muttered, syncing his voice with leon's as the opening scene began to play out. it was as if he's played this game countless times, which would appear to you as surprising considering he's never stated he even liked the idea of horror games. "you remember it all?" you reply with a snarky tone, snickering to yourself as you adjusted yourself on him. he lightly shrugged and looked to you as the opening scene continued to play on, "not all, just enough from my brother playing it when i was small." he mumbled as he was trying his best to focus on you and the opening scene at the same time, it'd had to have been years since he touched this game. so multitasking was something he'd have to push himself to do. especially when it came to you.

you saw how his attention went back to the screen as the scene faded out, leaving him to his own defenses when playing it. hoping that he wouldn't get jump-scared and jolt his body against yours, cause that'd just be embarrassing. you yawned and sprawled your stretching arms around his waist and let your body sink into the couch further, your head practically at his hip now; not that he really minded. he was pretty much a pillow anyway you laid on him, and even if he didn't outwardly show it, he was happy to be that small ounce of comfort for you. even if it meant making half of his body go to sleep as he mindlessly played video games.

he could feel your body slipping against his, letting his hand scruff up the top of your head with a low chuckle. you looked up to him, enjoying this new point of view of him. how he had his tongue slightly poked from his lips as he walked through the forest in the game, seeing how focused he was to not get startled by a zombie of some sort. his body slightly leaning forward to eye the screen better, you could tell there was about to be a jump-scare of some nature; you just thought it was hilarious to not entail him about it. curling up a smile as he turned a corner, attempting to find the village, and being met with his fate. a loud roar from a zombie rung through the speakers, making him immediately jump in his place. with that silly reaction, you just couldn't help but snicker to yourself about it. making him snap his head to you with a furrowed brow, "you're not funny." he snaps, the newfound adrenaline still working its way into his system.

you just shake your head and nuzzle your cheek into his side with another giggle, "you were so startled, i couldn't help it," you stammer out in the midst of your choked out laughter. he slowly shook his head at you and narrowed his eyes softly, "fine then, you make a grand attempt at it." he snickered out, secretly hoping you'd agree to his plea. he was already imagining how cute you'd look while focusing intently to the video game. you shrug and lean your body back up straight, taking the controller from his hand with a smile. you were a little excited to make him look like a dweeb, to say the least. you adjust your body against the couch, whereas he was already letting his chin rest in his palm as he eyed your movements. even tired, he thought you were the most heart piercing he could fathom. you could see him in your peripheral vision as you moved the controls to walk through the alley. focusing on the incoming noises, for a game that was made twenty years; it sure wasn't playing about thrill factor. guess that's why they call it a classic, yeah?

he was incredibly dead-set on seeing you get started, seemed like he was paying attention to the background noise more than before; which is hilarious considering he was the one who needed to worry about it when playing it for himself. you navigated the gravel and keep your focus on anything incoming, your body involuntarily pulling closer to the edge of the couch. the sight making schlatt try his best to bite back a laugh, seeing you so focused but so exhausted was definitely a visionary. you neared closer to a little shack, immediately clicking on the switch to a hand held. seemed like common sense, y'know dark small place is going to equal the perfect opportunity to scare the shit out of the player. you walked into the shed, hoping to find some sort of loot of some kind, being met with a raging zombie that was growling loudly through the speaker. which in turn, didn't make you jump. it just made schlatt jump. yeah, he really was not cut out for games like this, it was cute to see him attempt them though. you look to him for a moment and back to the screen with a smile as you shot down the zombie, collecting the loot that fell from the character.

you dropped the controller in your lap, trailing your eyes back to him with a snarky giggle; knowing full well the look on his face was not an expression of him being impressed. he just slowly shook his head and gently took the controller from your lap, the slow movement almost being funnier than his face alone. you try your best to not burst out laughing, tight lining your lips and slowly breathing to control yourself. "this game sucks anyways." he stammers out, swiftly putting the controller on the coffee table before flinging his body closer to yours to pull you into a kiss, you could feel the grin from his lips as he did so. "i still have mario kart against you." he snickers out as he pulls himself off of your lips slightly, pressing his lips back onto yours before you could even get the chance to defend yourself. you lightly pat his shoulder in an attempt to get your words out, but his muffled laughter was evidence enough that he didn't like the idea of that. instead, just smothering himself on you. seemed like a much better idea of a fun night, considering he really wasn't that invested in the game. rather that you were in his grasp after such a long while.

you successfully pull yourself off of him to look him in the eye, trying to get your words out in the air despite your infectious laughter. "so you're saying we should retry mario kart?" you stifle out with a smile, his hands continuing to move down your back with a slow motion. "i don't think i want to be cussed out by yoshi again." he chuckles out, his reply making you roll your eyes and nudge his shoulder lightly. "maybe it'll be waluigi this time." you claim, letting your body fall completely on the soft cushion. the sight alone making schlatt slowly not care about mario kart as much. he attempted to get his priorities in check, "so now you're copying me with wario? wow..." he replied with a smug grin plastered on his face. you reach your hand up and shake his face with your palm in a playful aggressive manner, immediately making his face scrunch up in confusion and amusement.

"i say you be daisy, y'know considering all the fuss between her and wario." he slyly spoke, leaning his face towards yours as you laid against the cushion. "what? because you look like him too?" you snicker, making him roll his eyes with a low chuckle. "oh, shut the fuck up." he playfully pokes before kissing you again, letting his hands trail down your arms. you giggle into the kiss once more, lightly tugging at the collar of his shirt to bring him in closer. drifting your hands to his neck, feeling the roughness of his beard trying to grow under his chin. he let his lips leave yours just so he could get a better look of you underneath him, silently thanking whatever being let him have this gracious view. "you're pretty like daisy too." he stammered out, sighing softly and keeping his eyes on you in near disbelief, "guess that compliments for my mean mug, yeah?" he adds on, making you blow a raspberry and shake your head with a choked out giggle.

"whatever that means." you sigh out, you knew you were getting tired but this whole thing was too much fun to miss out on. he could see it in your eyes, and a small part of him decided to go easier on you. considering your hell of a work week, if you'd allow it; he'd just let you live comfortably under him. he respected you enough to let you have your independence though, or at least until you brought it up. "you know exactly what that means, baby." he cooed out before slipping his hand underneath you to raise you up, seeing how exhausted you were from the look in your eye. you just allowed him to move you like a rag doll, eventually leaning against his shoulder and sighing from the immense comfort of how soft he was. he grabbed the controller and switched out of the game, putting on gran turismo 4, seemed more appropriate to play while he let you sleep. he promised you that anyhow.

you let your eyes softly shut as you heard the opening music ring from the speakers, wrapping your arms around him once more. he looked to your tired demeanor for a moment before continuing on with the game. feeling a smile growing on his lips as he drank in the moment, hoping you wouldn't open your eyes and see his lingering eyes. "days if you want." he softly whispered, as he looked down to your twitchy body falling asleep. he didn't seem to get a reply, safely assuming your body had enough of the day. he couldn't really ask for more though, you were here. it's all he could ask for on a night like this. he sighed and gently kissed the top of your head before trailing his eyes back to the screen. letting his head rest against the top of yours with a warm grin. you didn't take one bite of the snacks he specifically bought for you, but he was just secretly hoping that meant you'd be over long enough to enjoy them in the daytime. this was enough for him in the meantime.

author's note : i swear i was kickin' my feet when writing this, i LOVE soft schlatt. i hope you enjoyed !! i hope i can make my posting schedule more consistent soon, so in the meantime i throughly appreciate your patience :,) also thank you so much for the kind words with my return and stuff, you guys are actual sweethearts.

#jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #fanfic #rpf #writing #fluff

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laurentdirosetti · 1 year ago

Text

"Support character" [part 2]

{Idia Shroud x gn/MC}

Tags: playing videogames together, competitive, bet, smut...

Idia’s room was just like you imagined it would be, an otaku’s room —books scattered on the floor, open boxes in every corner, merchandising from different animes and games, posters on the walls… Also, the air in the room is really heavy, why is it so hot in here? Is it because of the computer or-

MC: ARE YOU ALRIGHT?

His hair was bright red, redder than when we were in the storage room, and not only the color was hot red, but the temperature too.

Idia: so-sorry, this is the first time a girl has entered my room (anyone other than Ortho or me for that matter).

That was the issue, haha… now I’m nervous too. I should do something to break the ice in this situation, or rather cooler the temperature. I think I recognised one of his figurines on that shelf…

MC: Isn’t that Ruri-chan from “The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl”?

I was staring right at Ruri-chan when I asked him, so it was a surprise when I turned around to look at his face and saw his expression. For a few seconds the time stopped and he gave me a death stare. Why is he so scary all of a sudden? Did I mispronounce her name? Impossible, I’ve been watching that series since I came to this world, mostly because it was the only serotonin I could find after nearly dying over a kid’s tantrum.

Idia: you know Ruri-chan?

Maybe because you were nearly as introverted as Idia or because you were nervous, the only answer you could find to his suddenly cold attitude was that this was the beginning of the typical “man interrogation over a common interest to prove your authenticity as a fan”. So before he could start making you questions about the show, you blow out all the lore of the series.

Idia’s face was as rigid as a rock until you finished your monologue on Ruri-chan’s journey. You stopped talking to catch a breath when he grabbed you by the shoulders and suddenly snapped.

Idia: ARE YOU TELLING ME THERE WAS ANOTHER OTAKU IN THE ACADEMY AND I DISCOVER IT NOW? Why did it take you so long to talk to me? How is it possible that I didn’t know about this before? I mean, I have control over all the technology and internet connection here. I should’ve been notified if a student was watching anime, how is it possible I didn’t know about you till now? What did you do? What kind of firewall did you use?

MC: I just watched it on Ramshackle’s TV…

Idia: ah… that explains everything, that TV probably doesn’t even have an HDMI port, let alone Internet…

MC: Idia… my shoulders are starting to hurt.

He sure is strong, it's hard to tell by those baggy clothes he's always wearing. He instantly opened his hands to let me go as soon as he heard me. He looked troubled he might have hurted me.

MC: don’t worry, I may not have “mana”, but my HP is full.

He couldn’t help but smile at my dumb -almost cringe- comparison. I think my “break the ice” mission was successful. Idia is very expressive, he snapped from nervous, to surprised, to confused, to happy in the the blink of an eye. I wish he stopped using that floating tablet of his to attend classes so I could see more of his expressions.

As soon as he released me he went to pick something from his wardrobe, a pair of controls apparently. The controls in my world were less complex than this ones. Idia handed me one of them and I began to study the buttons. It would be a lie to tell I knew how to grab it, clown music is playing inside my head. I wanted to play videogames with him, but truth be told I don’t have money to fix Rammshackle’s sink let alone buy a videogame or a console.

Idia saw my troubled grin and step towards me, shadowing my entire persona.

Idia: Is there a problem? You don’t like the color or something? Is it the brand?

MC: well, you see, the thing is…

This is gonna be so embarassing. First, I ran into problems trying to defend him against nothing, cause he wasn’t even hearing those jerks. Second, I made him hide with me in the storage room and now I have to tell him I wanted to play videogames with him but didn’t even think about the possibility of the controls being different from my world. Defeated, I lower my head to evade his soon to be inquisitive gaze.

MC: …I don’t know how to use these controls, they are different from the ones in my world.

Silence was so loud I couldn’t take it anymore and looked up. He was trying so hard not to burst out laughing at me his cheeks were red and his jaw was so tense I could see his neck muscles contracting. Finally, he let out a little pfft and grabbed his mouth and chin with his hand, pressing his cheek with his index.

Idia: I’m sorry but, you went through all that trouble to play together and you don’t even know how? Cute.

Lucky for me I don’t have magical hair that turns red when I'm flustered, but I’m sure it’s not hard to guess just by looking at my face.

Idia: don’t worry, guess I’ll have to teach you as I did with my little brother, come here.

He sat on a visible comfortable plush sofa, big enough for him to open his leg and ask me to sit between them. Funny, when we were in the storage room he was so nervous and now he openly asks me to sit on top of him, hasn’t he noticed?

Dumbfounded, I did as he requested and sat on the gap between his thighs, creating a space between us as a way to surpass the embarrassment. Unfazed, he glued his chest to my back and slipped his hands around my body. As if I was walking on thin ice, I slowly rested my arms on top of his. Then he moved his hands on top of mine on the controller, guiding my fingers on top of the buttons. My ears were bright red as I could feel his breathing chilling my neck, whispering a slow pace explanation on how to use the controller. His fingers moved mine slowly over the buttons, his hair fell as a cascade over my shoulders sliding between my legs. I don’t know what is happening and I would swear neither does he. He’s so focused on explaining the lore of the game and controls he hasn’t realized the hot mess he got cuddled beneath him.

Idia: Did you get that?

He asked, suddenly making me snap out of my cloud. Even though it was difficult, for many reasons, I caught a glimpse of his monologue while trying to survive my ocean of hormones.

MC: Well… It seems quite complicated to be honest. Maybe I can understand it better once I play the game.

Idia: Great, let’s play. I’ll connect the other controller so we can multi-play this.

The controller was right next to us, already plunged, so he didn’t move an inch and his arm were still surrounding me. The soundtrack of the game started playing and far too late I realized he meant to play in this position, basically cuddling each other, with our arms tangled, his body temperature on me and his breathing on my neck. We haven’t even started, but I can tell I already lost.

Unfortunately for him, after playing for nearly an hour, I tried my best to give him a hard time beating me. I lost all the matches anyway, but at least I could hear his groans all along, echoing in my ears.

Idia: SO much for being a snob, you are tougher than you look. But rest assured, I would never let a newbie beat me at my favorite game. Ortho has tried many times and I should give him a pass -you know the whole “Idia let your little brother win once”- but as a weeb I have a reputation yk.

That smirk on his face… he’s sure full of himself. I have almost grasped the dynamics of this game, maybe I could beat him. I’m a pretty competitive person and that arrogance only ignites something dark in me, something stupid.

MC: I bet I can ruin that reputation of yours in our next round.

Idia: Are YOU implying YOU can win? LMFAO, if delulu was a sport you'd have a gold medal. If you beat me on this round I’ll be your chair or whatever -not that it’s even a possibility.

MC: Do you mean I can ask you anything if I win? It’s this one of those anime situations in which the winner can order the loser around the whole day?

Idia: Yeah, that kind of shoujo stuff. Afraid?

MC: Mmn… Well, you’re already quite the comfortable chair.

That came out of nowhere, but I decided to keep my cool and rested my weight on his chest even more, looking up at his melted honey eyes now widening from sudden embarrassment. His peachy cheeks are so cute. Plan complete: this may be considered cheating but the only way to win is to distract him and by the discontrolled beating of his heart reverberating on my back I can tell it already worked.

We began playing, in the game we were two characters fighting each other in a 2D horizontal landscape. I didn’t learn all the combos, but I mastered the parries and evasions, so it was nearly impossible for him to even scratch me. He was focused on attacking while I was determined on defending, a never ending match it seemed. In real life it was the other way around, I continued non-stop “attacking” him while he tried his best to “defend” himself. Each time I evaded one of his attacks my butt moved against his lower body. From the corner of my eye I enjoyed his leg contraction at every “unintended” pound I gave him. After almost an hour of playing him, and the game, his breath was a mess, he was trembling all over and his dick was rock hard between my ass cheeks. My intention was to win the game, but I’m not quite disappointed with the actual development of the situation. I could take this as a win already.

Then I felt a thrust, his body rested on top of mine and I swear I can almost tell his longitude just by the pressure on my lower back. He snapped, his fingers were moving so fast on the buttons I had to make an effort to see them, he left me no chance to defend myself neither in the game or reality. As my character fell to the ground completely defeated, my head stumped on the floor as his hands pressed my shoulders to the ground.

Face to face, among the darkness of his room I could only differentiate two golden orbs and his face lightly illuminated by the gentle blue of his hair.

Idia: I won.

My whole belly was on the palm of his hand as he slowly lifted my shirt all the way up, until he grabbed my neck under the clothes.

MC: Wh-what are you doing?

Idia: I won, so the loser must do whatever the winner demands, right?

MC: Bu-but you haven’t say anything yet.

Idia: Oh, then I want the loser to fix my joystick.

What? Oh…

As I stupidly tried to understand that I noticed his hard-on pressuring my lower belly, near to my intimacy.

Idia: you see, a certain snob player broke it mid-play. Any idea on how to fix it?

He completely snapped, I almost can’t recognize him. Where is the shy boy I was messing with? The situation has escalated more than I would have imagined, but this doesn’t put me off in the slightest. Seeing Idia all hot and bothered surely is rare enough and I want to push that dominant side of him a bit more.

MC: maybe… It just needs some cleaning?

I questioned opening my mouth and letting out my tongue. His sigh was filled with excitement and anticipation, I could catch him bitting his lips for a moment.

He moved his knees to the sides of my head and lowered his zip and trousers. My eyes, now more used to the low illumination of the room, enjoyed the view of his thighs, pale as porcelain. He looks so fragile and slim, or that was my line of thinking until he uncovered his dick. Hard, veiny and leaking precum on top of my forehead; the length was the size of my face. This was going to hurt.

I accepted my destiny and kept my mouth open for him to enter mercilessly. But, that wasn’t the case. At a slow pace he started going down on my mouth, he filled my cavity with just the tip and almost the middle of his length. Then, he took my chin in his hand and caressed my cheek, pressing it on his dick and slowly massaging it from outside. I didn’t know what to do with my tongue so I tried to lick his dick and press it more against my cheek. His eyes glittered from a moment and he let out a soft chuckle.

Idia: seems you’re really eager to clean it, babe. But this much won’t do I’m afraid, you need to get it all wet enough.

Instantly, he continued letting down his hips until all his dick was in my mouth and throat. He was so deep in me my lower lip was touching his balls. Strange enough, this wasn’t as painful as I imagined it to be, I wonder how can my throat be twitching around him and I’m so calm? Maybe, his sweet expressions are keeping me from gagging. His mouth is a little open, from this angle I can only see his tongue moving above his pointy teeth. His eyes are locked in my throat, probably a bulge has formed, his fault after all. He’s been so long in this position I could possibly draw his dick by having it inside me.

When I thought he would start moving, his balls twitched against my lip and his cum flooded my mouth non-stop. When he released everything in me he fastly got up, letting me catch a breath. He cumed so much there were lines of cum running down my cheeks to the ground. I coughed a little after drinking all.

When I sat on the floor and looked up I could feel his gaze contemplating my whole display, heavy breathing and a surprised expression.

MC: that was fast.

Idia: I endured playing in hard mode, literally, a few minutes ago. Thank me I didn't finish by just seeing your ahegao face. Also …you didn’t need to drink that.

MC: I told you I would clean it.

Idia: quite the awful job, It's all sticky and twitching, maybe you can clean it better down here…

To be continued...

Part 1

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #twst idia smut #twst idia shroud #twst idia #idia shroud smut #idia smut #twisted wonderland idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia x mc #twisted wonderland idia smut

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spr1ngpvrinbunny · 2 months ago

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Hey! I saw the Harley x reader fic,period one. Will you do the same with William? I don't know why,due to the time period,he may be a little clueless about hygienic products.Just my headcanon. That's all, thankkks!!!!

William Afton & You on Your Period (Severe Cramps, Heavy Flow Edition)

William is not a man easily rattled—but this? Seeing you curled up in bed, clutching your stomach like you've been gutted, face scrunched in pain, sweat beading at your forehead—this unsettles him.

At first, he's all sharp observation, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying you like you're some unpredictable anomaly. He knows pain, he understands injury, but this isn't something he can fix with stitches or a steady hand.

This is internal. And it comes every month like clockwork? You just live like this?

"...You look like you're dying."

You manage a glare between the cramps that have you in a vice grip. "Feels like it."

And that's when he actually starts worrying.

You’re in no state to get up, so he has to go get supplies. But there’s a problem—William, for all his intelligence, has absolutely no idea what products you use. Pads? Tampons? Something else entirely?

He doesn’t ask. Because he’s William Afton. And admitting ignorance isn’t exactly his strong suit. Instead, he guesses. Which is why he returns with:

A pack of the thickest pads he could find

A smaller pack of the wrong size tampons

A singular chocolate bar (because that seemed right)

Tea (which is at least useful)

And a hot water bottle that looks like it’s been sitting in storage for decades.

He drops it all onto the bed with a proud little "Sorted."

You stare at the assortment. "You just grabbed the first things you saw, didn’t you?"

"No." (Yes.)

Once the initial chaos is over, he shifts into a more serious mode. He watches you carefully, studying every pained twitch, every sharp inhale. You’re hurting. Badly.

When he sees you double over, clutching your stomach with actual tears in your eyes, unable to stand— something inside him snaps.

There’s no teasing now. No sarcastic remarks. Just immediate action.

He makes you lie back down—and stays.

He presses his hands against your stomach, hesitant at first, then firmer when he realizes the warmth helps.

He warms the hot water bottle properly and places it exactly where it needs to be.

He massages your lower back in slow, methodical movements.

And when you finally start to relax, even just a little, he exhales through his nose, tension easing.

From then on, he keeps an eye on you. No one would ever suspect William Afton of being particularly soft, but there’s something about seeing you this vulnerable that draws something out of him.

He doesn’t leave your side.

He keeps a hand resting on you, idly tracing patterns, grounding you.

He remembers what helps. He brings you tea before you even ask.

He makes sure you eat, even if he has to coax you through it.

If you start whimpering in your sleep from the pain, he stirs, checks on you, and presses the hot water bottle back into place.

He acts like he doesn’t care—but he watches you closely. If your breathing changes, if you shift like you're in pain, he notices.

At some point, the pain spikes so badly that you let out a muffled cry, your whole body tensing—and he hates it. Hates the sound, hates how helpless it makes him feel.

"Alright. That’s it. We’re going to the doctor."

You groan, shaking your head, clutching onto his sleeve weakly. "It’s just cramps, William."

He scowls. "‘Just cramps?’ You can’t even stand. You’re crying."

And if you still refuse, he’s going to be grumbling under his breath the entire time, pacing like a caged animal.

But in the end? He stays. Right there. Watching. Waiting. Until the worst of it passes. And when you finally drift off, the pain manageable for now, he exhales slowly—then quietly shifts just a little closer.

He won’t admit it. But he hates seeing you like this. And next time? He’s going to be prepared.

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doodlelesbians · 1 month ago

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My self indulgent Flower Husbands headcanon is that Scott's weird epilogue is actually the parts of them that love each other ripped out by the watchers and put in storage. The tragedy of Flower Husbands to me is never that the love wasn't there but that it wasn't made for a death game.

Flower Husbands works pretty well, Jimmy likes being doted on. He likes when someone is afraid for him, helps him build his house, is a little possessive over him. He even likes the bullying, he preens under the attention. Scott likes that Jimmy needs help because he likes feeling in control, of being able to do things for others. He likes that he can needle and show the uglier crueler parts of himself but still be loved because Jimmy doesn't mind. He's a romantic, he likes the idea of a happy domestic ending. Their relationship just doesn't work in the confines of a death game. Jimmy plays rough, he puts himself in unnecessary danger, he wants to get involved in the main skirmishes, he tries to negotiate as equals without the technical skill or resources to back it up. Scott is afraid. He's so aware of the danger and so focused on his own ideas of what the best path forward is. He stifles Jimmy, trying to force him to be comfortable in their little corner. Jimmy chafes even further against this attempt at controlling him, born from Scott's need to have some power over something in a situation they're all pawns in. And they end up hurting each other so much, both by living and by dying, and then they're dead. I think their love is tucked away in that little sliver, a version of the world built exactly in a way Scott can control and Jimmy can do what he wants without the sword of damocles hanging over him. And then in the real world, in the future games, they just have this pit inside them where their love used to be and no matter what they can't feel it anymore. They're aware it once existed. They know it once meant a lot but all they can actually still feel is the hurt.

Jimmy moves on. He finds other things to care about. His emotions burn hot and fast like his lifespan and he's adept at moving on from alliances season after season.

Scott keeps trying to find it. He offers flowers and says I love you and chases Jimmy down because he refuses to obey the game's rules. He never liked the lack of control and choice, didn't kill as the boogeyman, left his soulmate behind. And now, he refuses to let go and accept that the love is gone.

#flower husbands #meta #idk im rambling #if u disagree with my fh takes please make ur own post #sorry about getting serious about roblox boy and mr. twitter discourse #trafficshipping

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cocogum · 3 months ago

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The Great Wave - Chapter 18 Review

‼️SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER‼️

This might just be Volume 2's longest chapter of them all.

I love how Luis's magic works here. Joris is bringing Amalia and Yugo into an abyss but Luis just magically summons stairs out of nowhere for them.

I love the ingenuity behind it ✨️

But I feel like the creativity only begins here.

Because my god I knew Luis was a big house but I didn't think that he would be able to hide A FREAKING ZAAP PORTAL!!

So you're basically saying that Luis is a storage room and needed an extension? Got it, pookie bear 💕💕

Bro wastes no time to say anything and just jumps into the portal. I thought he was just gonna fetch something for them at first 😭😭

Damn I knew that Yugo's eyebags were obvious before, but we can clearly see it from this angle and the next. Dude, that poison really screwed you up, and you're STILL living from the side effects right after drinking the remedy...Based.

UH- EXCUSE ME I DIDN'T CATCH THAT WHAT!?

BRO'S CALLING HER HIS QUEEN OMG THIS IS REAL, HE'S SO SMITTEN BY HER PLEASE ‼️‼️‼️😭😭😭😭💖💖😭💖😭💖😭💖💖😭💖😭💖😭😭💖😭💖😭💖😭💖 MY HEART ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

SKAKDKSLSLSOXJJCJDIDKDKL

LOOK AT THEM HOLDING HANDS!!!

If I had a nickel for every time these two held hands before jumping into a portal, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

Also, can we please just address the fact that Yugo's hood in this angle looks a lot like one of his female eliotrope children by the name of Desperia, who appears in Oropo's special episode? She has an eagle (or just bird) theme about herself, and the top of her head looks a lot like how Yugo's cloak looks in that shot.

I know it's not the same at all, but this angle and panel really makes Yugo look like he's wearing something along the lines of what she'd wear.

And I like to think that this was an added detail for that very specific reason. Desperia is a part of who Yugo is, so of course they'd both share some kind of style lol

Anyways, as soon as they follow Joris through the zaap portal, they were met with this....

Wtf is this....

How is it so big????? How much was Luis not capable of storing??? Cuz I almost thought I was looking at a town because of how illuminating it looked. It's so nice and cute but seriously where are they???

Is this like an archive in the underground??? Cuz it sure looks like it. But I bet we're never going to get an answer to that since the location was technically confidential. All we know, however, is that it is in fact in a place since they had to use the zaap portal. So they're somewhere in the World of Twelve either underground or in some kind of abandoned mine due to how dark it looks like since the place is using lights.

And to think that most of these books are shushus too... Who the hell managed to capture them?? JORIS???? Yeah, that seems to check out lol

First of all, can I please just say that I LOVE how despite Amalia is now the Sadida Queen, Joris still calls her by her first name? It just goes to show how much of a friend he sees in her. It's not even because he had met her when she was a kid, or else the guy would've called other young royals, like Armand, by their first names and yet we've never seen that happen. Like ever.

It's such a nice detail and I'm here for it 🩷

Second of all, Joris worked his ASS off to just try to get whatever he can find about the world and gain as much information as he can just to turn this place into some archive library. This guy is freaking 500 years old and it shows. Dear god this place looks awesome but it's still freaky as all hell when you think about how much he tried to find some of the world's lore and ancient manuscripts...The guy must've been working day in and day out like a maniac at some point while Kerubim and Atcham kept dying and coming back.

Dealing with a bag of trauma while trying to defend the world makes archiving manuscripts and scriptures a fun hobby 💀💀

IDOSLDKFKLDDIOFOSWOEPEGUYS SHUT UP THEY'RE BONDING ‼️‼️‼️‼️💖💖💖💖

Tf u mean this is "just" the library.

Just how much was Luis unable to take?

I'm in love with how these are just small precious moments about these two dumbasses who kept following Joris around 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Just Amalia shrieking her head off as Yugo tries to help her with clear worry for her because Joris's ass didn't bother cleaning up a bit ❤️❤️❤️

Even when he was a kid, he and Kerubim always sucked at cleaning.

Looks like they're gonna need another maid.

HAHAHA!!!

...haha.

....

I miss Simone.

Yugo and Amalia trying to avoid some sentient manuscripts while Joris is just chilling.

I know where this is going....

Amalia's gonna want to be last.

I KNEW IT!! I FUCKING KNEW IT!!

YUGO ISN'T EVEN SHOCKED, HE WAS JUST LIKE "Here we go again".

Like @geekgirles said: "They're married, but they're so married."

I keep forgetting how tiny Joris actually is, omg he's so small he can literally fit into any hole and doesn't have to duck or crawl in all fours 💕💕💕 PLEASE HE CLEARLY MADE THAT HOLE WITH JUST HIS SIZE IN MIND, I BET EVEN KERUBIM AND ATCHAM HAD TO CRAWL 😭😭😭

Gurl...What are you staring at.

WTF AM I LOOKING AT⁉️⁉️⁉️

DID SHE JUST GROPE HIM!???!!?? IN FRONT OF JORIS!?!?!?!?

I literally had to cover my mouth for this cuz I was seeing this shit at midnight while everyone was asleep and I didn't wanna squeal too loudly.

PLEASE, SHE JUST SQUEEZED HIS ASS CHEEKS FOR NO REASON WTF 😭😭😭

My god she's such a pervert she literally can't get her hands off of him! Even when they're in situations where there is no tension, she can literally find any reason to grab him.

But then again, what DOES make us think she groped him? hehehehe honestly she's such a girlie for that ❤️❤️❤️ like what if she played with his ass?? His reaction was so sudden, there was no way he had flinched that hard just from feeling her hand on his butt. Like...my girl might have done something else, but who am I to say lol maybe all she did was just grope him and he jumped from the sudden touch 👀👀👀. This just makes me wonder if she'd be the type to peg him tho-

Also *cough* *cough* Amalia is a major hypocrite.

If she WILLINGLY touches Yugo's ass, she gets too giddy and horny for finding an opportunity to do it. But when Yugo ACCIDENTALLY touches Amalia's ass, she gets pissed from the aUdAcItY that she had been caught off guard.

Judging by this, we can tell Amalia loves being the top and I bet that she would rather let people spread mushroom feet rumors about her than admit she could be a bottom lol

We can already notice some details and easter eggs in this panel alone.

If we look at the right, we already see a framed picture of Grougalorasalar's full dragon form.

Right next to the framed picture, there's a golden trophy of what looks to be Khan Karkass. This was probably one of his achievements that Joris managed to have gotten his hands on before it got lost to time.

On the desk, we can see another frame picture, a drawing (from the Dofus movie) which had been made by Joris when he was a kid which depicted his what his parents would have looked like before he knew about his real ones.

We see a certificate or a diploma of some sort on the lower left. Though this might have just been some sort of achievement made by either Joris or someone else entirely.

There is also a hatched egg right next to the table for some reason.

Finally, on the higher left side of the panel, we see a portrait of some woman. I'm not personally sure who she is, but from the looks of her clothes, I'm assuming she might have been a past ruler of some kind. She really strikes me as odd because I've never seen her before. If some people might have recognized her from somewhere, do tell. If not, then I hope that the next chapter reveals to us who she might have been. She really looks like the anomaly in this panel for having no explanation of familiarity around it...

But a funny small theory thatbbegan circling around is that people think she could have been Joris's lover lol

As you've already guessed, yeah. There were mixed feelings about it 😂😂

YUGO'S STILL ANNOYED FROM THE ASS GRABBING LOL

BOY YOU'RE THE ONE WEARING A SPANDEX SUIT 😭😭😭

Anyways, Joris is explaining to Yugo and Amalia the reason behind his age and his looks, and how it all linked to Grougalorasalar.

To us, it had been obvious that it was because of the black dragon, since us intellectual and artistic people have watched the Dofus movie and understood its value and the level of depth and knowledge that it poured onto us 😌😌

But if you haven't watched it then...

Go watch it.

You smartass.

But in all seriousness, hearing his explanation about his origins and his situation, is a nice summary to give to the ones who haven't watched the movie/don't want to see it/or just don't have the time (or means) to.

Joris explaining his parents' infos, meeting, love, and demise all in one day to Yugo and Amalia but not revealing their names 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

My guy, all you have to do was sprinkle Julith's name and-

Ah wait nevermind Yugo and Amalia have never been told what her name was. Grougalorasalar just called her "his guardian" in front of them. Not to mention that Joris doesn't seem to have a single picture of her in this small room.

Well this is gonna be awkward when they'll all realize they knew the same woman...

WAIT WTF AM I TALKING ABOUT!?!?

JORIS MENTIONED IN HIS LITTLE EXPLANATION THAT SHE WAS THE GUARDIAN OF THE EBEN DOFUS. If these two just connected the dots, they would both figure out that the woman he's talking about was the same one that was standing next to Grougalorasalar since he had called her his guardian.

They should be able to know that Joris has a connection to her.

So if that's the case....why are they not telling him that this chick is actually alive again??

They look sad or more empathic than anything else. Are they waiting for a good opportunity to reveal it? Or did they still not piece the clues together?? OR ARE THEY JUST NOT TELLING HIM CUZ THEY DON'T WANT TO?!!??

I better hope it's not the latter and that they are just waiting for a good time to properly reveal the news.

*cough* Oropo *cough* Brotherhood *cough* demigods *cough*

Joris takes a silent moment for himself after revealing all of this to Yugo and Amalia.

Let us all take a silent stance for him as well.

Just give him a minute.

Joris sucks it up before he then adds that Grougalorasalar is a sexy daddy with scales an annoying body roommate who keeps causing shit to everyone for shits and giggles.

I find it very helpful that Joris just mildly mentions that the primordial dragons are able to resurrect back after they die, kinda like how the six primordial eliatropes and dragons are able to do. It's subtle, yet nice to know because it confirms to the unsure fans that the primordial dragons of the World of Twelve can in fact die and come back.

#there was just so much than usual #so many references and comparisons too lol #i rly loved it 💕💕 it mixed funny and serious rly well #wakfu #ankama #krosmoz #wakfu the great wave #wakfu the great wave manga #the great wave #the great wave manga #wakfu manga #the great wave volume 2 #wakfu the great wave volume 2 #wakfu review #wakfu reviews

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