#six same faces english translation

[starry-bi-sky]

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

[gunnerfc]

Bad Game | Alexia Putellas x Barça!Reader

WC: 1312

Warnings: this isn’t full-on smut but it is suggestive so 18+ only pls! There’s no smut warnings but Alexia is just a little mean !

-> English and Spanish are used by both Alexia & reader in this!

All translations are from google, so apologies if they aren’t 100% accurate!

As the final whistle blew, you could see the frustration on Alexia’s face despite her contributing to three of Barça’s six goals against Real Madrid. You watched as she shook hands with the opponents, hardly putting any effort into concealing how upset she felt. You knew better than to try and comfort her right now, knowing that she needed a minute to sit with her feelings, and no matter how much you told her how good she played, she was too in her head to listen to you. 

While you weren’t going to actively try and comfort her, you did keep an eye on her as she did media and signed a few things for some fans before finally making her way into the locker room. You weren’t the only one to notice the midfielder’s frustrations, the rest of the team saw it as well and knew better than to say anything to their captain. In the locker room, you took your seat next to Ona while other teammates were singing and dancing, celebrating another El Clásico win.

Alexia kept to herself in her seat, without a doubt replaying the entire game in her head picking apart her performance. The team’s loud celebration not helping her growing annoyance. Eventually, the celebrations died down as many of your teammates started taking showers and getting ready to head back to the team hotel in Madrid. You were thankful for the rare opportunity to be sharing a room with your girlfriend, seeing as you two are usually kept apart when traveling for away games. 

Knowing how upset the midfielder was, you knew she was going to wait until back at the hotel to shower, wanting to leave the stadium as quickly as possible. You decided to wait as well knowing it was only a short ride back and the quicker you were on the bus, the quicker you could be close to Alexia without her pushing you away. As soon as both of you find your seats, Alexia is quick to put headphones on in an effort to drown out the singing from your teammates. You let out a defeated sigh as you grabbed her hand to give it a light squeeze letting her know you were here for her, but she gave you no response. 

The trip back from the stadium to the hotel was short but for Alexia, it felt like ages. She wanted nothing more than to rid herself of the game and decompress in whatever way seemed best. Alexia was off the bus and in the elevator in record time, not bothering to wait for you to catch up. It was a good thing you each made sure to take one of the keys this morning. By the time you reached your shared room, Alexia was already in the shower. You sighed as you took it upon yourself to take care of cleaning out your gym bags so you could give your kits to the staff to be washed. 

When you finally heard the water turn off in the bathroom, you were mentally preparing yourself to be met with silence from your blonde girlfriend. As Alexia exited the bathroom, she barely gave you a second glance, more focused on finding a replay of the game to study everything she did wrong. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scoffed at her actions. This finally gained some sort of reaction from Alexia, as she threw you a glance from one of the beds with a raised eyebrow, silently challenging you to challenge her. All you did in response was to give her a similar look, choosing to ignore the feeling you felt from seeing your girlfriend freshly showered with damp hair in a tank top and sweats. 

When you were done with your shower, you found Alexia in the same position you left her in, this time you didn’t resist the eye roll. 

“Ale, are you seriously going to rewatch the game you just played?” you asked, your voice dripping with your own frustration. 

“Necesito ver que hice mal. (I need to see what I did wrong)” Alexia muttered, not looking up from her laptop. You knew this game was going to bother her, but the two of you never get to share a room when you’re away and you were looking forward to spending time with your girlfriend. 

“Creo que puedes tomar un descanso, sólo por esta noche, cariño. (I think you can take a break, just for tonight baby)” You sighed, hoping to get her attention and she would see the pout on your face.

“Creo que podrías dejarme en paz unos minutos. (I think you could leave me alone for a few minutes.)” The blonde snapped, clearly still frustrated from earlier. Alexia finally looked up at you as she spoke and you could see in her eyes just how upset she was. 

You knew that if you kept going, this argument would follow you back to Barcelona, and that was something you did not want. However, you couldn’t ignore just how much her words affected you. On one hand, you were upset that she was taking her anger out on you. On the other hand, you felt turned on by the idea of her taking her anger out on you in other ways.

“tal vez sólo necesites algo que te calme. (maybe you just need something to calm you down.)” You replied, taking cautious steps towards Alexia. The drop in your voice caught her attention, though she still refused to make eye contact with you.

When you reached the side of the bed she was sitting on, you moved to sit next to her. You carefully slid your finger across the top edge of her laptop, catching her eyes drift up slightly to watch you. 

“bebé..please.” your voice had dropped to a whisper, knowing that no matter what your girlfriend was feeling, she was always affected by how you asked her to pleasure you. Alexia met your eyes, her still swimming with anger and disappointment in how she played but you could tell by how her pupils had dilated that she was feeling other things as well. 

“úsame. desquitate conmigo, por favor, mi amor. (use me. take it out on me, please, my love.)” you begged. If you knew how to get anything out of Alexia, begging was the way to go.

Alexia all but threw her laptop off the bed to grab at your waist to switch the positions the two of you were in. Alexia loved having you under her, begging for her to give you sort of release and she wasn’t going to say no this time. Her lips met yours in a heated kiss, the blonde not giving you a chance to catch your breath before her tongue found its way into your mouth. Her lips left yours and a whine quickly followed them, hating not having her close. 

Her lips found a place on your neck, leaving teasing kisses and bites, without a doubt leaving marks for you to deal with in the morning. At the moment though, you did not care. You were more focused on being an outlet for your girlfriend to let go of her lingering frustrations.

“¿Vas a hacer lo que te digo, princesa? (are you going to do as I say, princess?)” Alexia mumbled in between leaving the marks along your neck and collarbone. 

You didn’t trust your voice, but you knew Alexia was waiting for an actual answer. With a shaky breath, you responded with a whispered “sí.” The response you received from your girlfriend was a deep kiss before she softly said “bueno” against your lips and you knew you were in for a long night, grateful that tomorrow was a travel day and you wouldn’t be expected to do much.

[iwritesinsnottragedieshoney]

litty swimsuit (spencer reid)

paring: spencer reid x reader

summary: the team vacations at rossi's summer residence while spencer reid deals with insecurities, emotions beyond his control, and a y/n litty swimsuit.

genre: i guess fluff, but towards the end it changes into the beginning of smut, but nothing serious, actually.

warnings: spencer being a little insecure; one or two curses; some sexually tinged comments; maybe some spicy scenes at the end, but, like i said before, nothing hard; a lot of use of the phrase "frown".

word count: 11, 631

notes: this is the first time i post anything here and the first time i write something about spencer so i hope i didn't screw things up. english is also not my first language, some words may be used incorrectly just because the translator thinks it's a synonym and i believe him, so… have fun :) (every pic is from pinterest, i don't own them).

spencer walked out through rossi's glass door, his nostrils filled with the unmistakable smell of chlorine, mixed with a hint of summer afternoon and sunscreen.

the sun was in its full stage and he frowned slightly at the thought of the impact of sunlight on the human body and the consequences of the time spent outside then — he focused mainly on the negative ones, because they came to his mind the fastest. but he immediately pushed them away, frowning even harder. aside from forgetting his sunglasses from his room, he remembered what morgan had told him when they arrived at rossi's summer house: you need to chill out a bit, man. look, a whole week off work and a whole week with y/n in a swimsuit! she told emily it's litty.

spencer didn't understand a few things at the time, and unfortunately for him, they were all centered around y/n.

first of all, he had no desire to chill out a bit and didn't look like he was going to be able to do that anytime soon. two weeks ago there was a chance for a vacation for the whole team. someone (emily) discreetly remarked (gathered everyone in the check-in room thanks to garcia who sent everyone a flashing, unlockable message to the work computers) that it would be nice to spend time at rossi's summer residence at that time, which he readily agreed to (not really, but everyone had time to nod their heads appreciatively over garcia's presentation, where she presented the arguments for and rossi was bribed with the idea of themed Italian evenings).

spencer obviously didn't mind spending time with the team. apart from them, he didn't really have any other friends, and his mother was going to be involved in activities that would conflict with his possible visit, so he had no plans. he even lifted the corners of his mouth for a brief moment. that subsided, however, when the travel talks began a few days later, and y/n elbowed him lightly in the ribs and said she had a bunch of light and silly romances ready so she could read one a day, which is pretty much like as if they were reading at the same pace. then he realized that if he spent a whole week with the team, he'd spend it with y/n as well, and his stress-adrenaline spiked so high he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying to his desk at the time.

it's not like he didn't like y/n. because he liked. actually, very much so. derek said he's totally head over heels.

and guess that was the problem.

when y/n joined the team, which happened exactly six months, eight days, twenty-one hours and thirty-two minutes ago, she totally turned his head, as penelope said. she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met, and her smiles were either very wide or delightfully stretchy (these were spencer's favourites, because then there were tiny wrinkles around her eyes and her cheeks were slightly pink), and when she greeted meeting him for the first time, she raised her hand in an awkward greeting at the same time he did, then laughed out loud before finally saying her name with the smile still on her face.

he wasn't sure if he was just imagining it, and he didn't even want to check if it was, but he felt that y/n had become a very good friend to him. someone who listened to what he had read last time in a new science article that appeared in a kiosk outside his block and didn't roll his eyes; someone who showed up with coffee and a donut when he was having a bad day; someone who used to come to his hotel room when things were done with chinese takeout to watch documentaries on TV; someone who played cards with him (even if y/n made up her own rules that were often meant to win only her); someone who eventually became more than just a good friend to him.

he couldn't even tell when he wished they were more. all he knew was that there was no chance of any change in that direction between them. girls like y/n weren't interested in guys like spencer, he knew it. he didn't want his stupid feelings to end. he liked the fact that y/n was somehow close, and if only she knew how he felt about her, he wouldn't have survived the humiliation of rejection.

anyway, when spencer realized that y/n would also be joining them on the trip, he panicked slightly. since she'd joined the team, they'd only spent time together at work and on field case, and that made their relationship somewhat limited (reason infinite why spencer thought maybe even their friendship was a bit forced). spencer would never have dared to offer her anything else because she might think he was asking her out (he hadn't asked derek yet, but he was pretty sure going to a museum to see the remains of a newly found tomb didn't count as a date, but he preferred not risk), and then she would surely refuse, which is why they did not meet outside of work. unless it was about going out to bars with the team.

y/n never proposed anything either (derek said it was because spencer wasn't giving her enough indication of his interest in such a proposal, but spencer thought being neutral about everything about y/n was safe and a chance to be too pushy), so spencer only confirmed his conviction. he was destined to be friend.

however, he began to have merciless thoughts about the possible end of their relationship, precisely because of the vacation trip to rossi's summer estate. eventually y/n will have to realize that spencer is actually incredibly boring, and his habits, behaviors, and interests are not at all caused by the situations that another case puts in their way. he will understand that spencer watches TV documentaries not because there is nothing more interesting on the hotel TV, but because he likes to do it. after all, no one willingly watches television documentaries! everyone knows it!

and on the one hand he knew that these thoughts were irrational rather than worth considering, but on the other hand he watched his surroundings for any signs that might prepare him for an imminent farewell to the warm feeling he felt inside when y/n appeared on the horizon.

spencer was sure that there were plenty of other things that y/n could find out about him during the trip and lose interest in him even at the level of work colleagues, so from the beginning of the trip he tried not to drive the stress reel and didn't think about it anymore, and it was either better or worse.

the other thing he didn't understand about derek was the y/n litty swimsuit. to be honest, spencer wasn't very interested in the y/n swimsuit until derek mentioned it. he didn't even combine the trip with swimsuits. but now he was definitely interested in it, and he was horrified that he was beginning to think of his co-worker and best friend in that context. he tried not to imagine it too often, but his thoughts involuntarily wandered in that direction when they were filling out reports at the office a day or two before, when he was in the shower, when he was going to bed, and when they were on the plane here. so, well, he wasn't doing very well.

but back to when he left rossi's house for his backyard swimming pool — derek was right, he needed to chill out a bit.

the swimming pool was rectangular in shape and was crossed by a volleyball net; on one side were hotch and morgan, and on the other side, emily and jj, who were clearly already engaged in the game for good, as the cheers directed at the men indicated victory and their considerable excitement. reid remembered derek's words again and refrained from telling them about the dangers of exerting himself in a place that was so exposed to the sun's rays. chill out a bit.

he descended the small steps to the stone path that flanked the pool, only guessing how hot the slabs of stone could get under his slipper-protected feet. he noticed that rossi, who was doing a crossword puzzle, was sitting at a table covered with a red umbrella, and probably wouldn't look up even if an african elephant ran in front of him. morgan's words rang again in spencer's ears, and he didn't stop to look over the man's shoulder and solve a few passwords. chill out a bit.

so reid walked on, toward white, comfortable-looking loungers. they were tucked away in the shade, far enough away that the noises coming from the pool wouldn't be annoying and that their distance wouldn't seem exaggerated. on one of them was penelope, holding a glass of iced coffee in one hand and a kindle in the other, which she was staring at intently.

spencer looked around discreetly, but saw no y/n anywhere. he knew she was the first to leave the house — at six o'clock in the morning he wasn't awake enough to get up, but he heard her soft footsteps down the hall and the slam of the front door. he didn't know where she was, but when he opened his eyes again, the whole team was downstairs, discussing something quite loudly. it was early afternoon now, and spencer was angry with himself for not being able to get up early enough. he felt as if he didn't know as much as the others. as if he missed something.

he sat down precariously on one of the deckchairs, the one closest to penelope's, and gripped the leather-bound book he'd brought with him a little tighter. he ordered it from his local bookstore a month ago, and the delivery difficulties only made him want to devour it whole, but now, when y/n wasn't around, he somehow didn't feel like opening it. he involuntarily looked towards the garden, remembering that when they arrived three days ago, y/n had disappeared there for a good hour. maybe she went to see that little pond she'd been telling him about...

"what are you looking for?" garcia's suspicious voice reached his ears, and he immediately felt a treacherous blush rise to his cheeks. "or rather, for whom."

she added the last one with a noticeable smirk in her voice, as if she knew the answer to her question all along, and spencer wouldn't be surprised if she really did.

he looked at her, still slightly surprised by her unexpected remark; the blonde lifted her sunglasses so that they rested on top of her head, her fingers gently, almost soundlessly, tapping the kindle's surface.

he noticed that her nails were painted a dark blood red. just like emily wore. and jj. probably similar to y/n. apparently it was the result of their ladies' night last night, which had dragged on until one in the morning, which spencer knew because there was a wall between his and emily's room that was thin enough for him to hear music and laughter coming from the room. that was the main reason why he got up later than the others today.

"i don't..." he began, but before he could somehow prevent a minor annoyance that would surely have lasted into the evening, the patio doors slid open and shut just as forcefully.

spencer looked over at them, frowning at the glare of the sun.

y/n trotted hurriedly towards them, her thick-soled flip-flops making a distinctive sound with each step she took. she was wearing a slightly tight, ankle-length skirt of mesh material with a lining and a light green tank top with thin straps. in her hand was a shopping bag, which she placed between spencer's and garcia's sun loungers. her chest was rising and falling at a rhythmic but not too fast pace, which indicated she was in a hurry.

“i will never go back there again,” she declared, plopping down on the lounger where spencer was sitting. she was clearly addressing penelope, but a second later she was elbowing him in the shoulder. "where have you been all morning? the vacation book club meeting must have started without you, though i swear i fought like a lioness."

even if she wasn't quite close, he could smell her cherry mist, and when he looked a little closer, he noticed that thin strings of a bikini trailed up from underneath the tank top and tied in a bow shape at the nape of the neck. chill out a bit.

"i overslept," he stammered, wishing he was someone with a better explanation.

"oh no, is it us?" y/n looked genuinely worried. „jj and i tried to turn the music down but emily was adamant. and then we went a bit too far with the alcohol and music was the last thing on our minds."

"no, i... forgot to set my alarm clock." thought up on the spur of the moment, but y/n tilted her head slightly doubtfully.

she didn't comment on it, though, because her attention was drawn to penelope, who until then had been interested mainly in the lines of text on her kindle, now clutched it tightly to her chest and, her lips parted in excitement, leaned towards y/n.

"did it work? does the red nail theory work? answer, woman!" her eyelids were wide open and her pale cheeks flushed a little pink.

"what is the red nail theory?" spencer asked, frowning again, this time in confusion.

he was used to the fact that he didn't know much about currently pop culture and usually had to get information from team members or search the internet himself. he did it a bit more often lately, because y/n would run into the office from time to time and tell him in an emotional voice about the latest happenings in the world of celebrities that he had no idea about. but if y/n was interested, he wanted to, if only so he wouldn't stand there stock-still and nod his head in an attempt to understand.

"oh, it's such a stupid notion that if you paint your nails red, guys will stick to you like flies," she replied, as always without impatience, waving her hand dismissively, which only underlined her attitude towards the matter. spencer, however, saw the red on her fingernails.

“it's widely believed that the color red symbolizes passion, desire and, of course, love. a survey was conducted which revealed that…” spencer began, unable to resist sharing this information with her; he stopped, however, when penelope waved a kindle in front of his nose, as if to chase away a persistent insect.

"y/n! did mark make a move?!”

"who is mark?"

in his defense, it had slipped out faster than he had time to think. the tone in which garcia's question was uttered indicated that mark had already been the subject of conversations and was obviously known to someone other than y/n. that in turn meant (spencer unintentionally connected the assumption with his own suspicions) that y/n was romantically interested in someone, and probably someone — how could not — reciprocated. especially since the woman's cheeks had turned slightly pink.

spencer felt his stomach turn inside out; never thought he had any chance with y/n, but sometimes it was nice to daydream a bit. but now those dreams had become almost utopian, though earlier, he liked to tell himself, they had been possible if he hadn't been such a coward and had perhaps agreed to go to the gym with morgan.

“he's a clerk in that little shop we passed on our way here. remember, the one with the white wooden sign and the blue lettering. anyway, penelope thinks he's a muffin ready to munch, which i guess means he's relatively attractive," y/n replied again, in the same tone as before; this time, however, she didn't wave her hand, but ostentatiously rolled her eyes.

"hello? when will it be time to answer my questions?” the blonde got impatient and slid her legs off the lounger and seemed ready to pin y/n to the ground and force all the answers out of her.

y/n smiled softly (apparently the danger in garcia's eyes was no problem for her) and bent down to reach for the shopping bag at her feet. she was clearly looking for something and was knocking over the rest of her purchases as she did so, but she took her time to answer penelope.

"i'm not sure about that theory, pen. i bought you a couple of canned sodas and some magazines from the display at the back of the store, and mark was mostly looking at my boobs, not my nails. this confirmed what i had always thought of him — that he is quite a jerk. i don't know, girls, maybe you should be interested in someone valuable."

spencer lifted the corner of his mouth, the one that the others couldn't see; he didn't know the whole mark, but enjoyed the way y/n thought of him. he just didn't know who he was. he liked to think he wasn't a jerk, but he wasn't sure he was valuable either. he was curious if there was anything in between.

“this is not some husband contest, y/n. it's our carefully crafted hot girls summer," penelope reminded her, and this time she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

reid refrained from asking another question.

“then i'm afraid our hot girls summers are quite different,” y/n replied, finally pulling a few magazines out of the plastic bag and stacking them neatly on her lap, frowning in concentration. “i bought rossi another crossword puzzle because i saw him finishing the one in the morning paper. jj and emily said they didn't need anything but i bought them a gossip magazine anyway. the only thing i didn't know was what to get hotch... anyway, penelope, i didn't spend a dime on you. it's for those stupid messages you've been sending me all morning! and for your information, my inner tigress didn't pounce on a couple of ribs."

penelope moaned martyrdom, throwing her head back and returning to her previous position, turning on her kindle again. y/n didn't seem too concerned about it, in fact, not at all, and turned around a bit to face spencer. her mouth stretched into that familiar excited smile, and her cheeks seemed to still be tinted with a soft pink as the woman proudly held out to him a sealed magazine with a dvd inside.

"dr. reid, here's the second part of the documentary we started watching during this case in baltimore." her tone was high, but spencer still sensed a hint of laughter in it. “on the way back i also saw a nice restaurant that delivers orders. it's not chinese, but i don't mind indian food. you like indian food, right? i can look for something else, i think i saw something at the end of the pier...

“indian food sounds nice, y/n,” spencer said reassuringly, giving her a small smile.

it all sounded nice. it was nice to think that y/n looked at the popular science section and thought of him; about wanting to watch a nature documentary with him and eat takeout. spencer didn't want to think otherwise, and even thought that maybe all his fears about leaving weren't very rational.

"oh god, i hope you guys gonna fuck while doing this or i'll drown you in the pool..." penelope's totally serious voice broke the smiling silence between them like a knife blade.

spencer made an indistinct noise, blushing to the tips of his ears while y/n seemed extremely angry.

“you know what, pen, i'd rather fuck spencer with a documentary on africa insects running in the background than go out with all that mark. i bet he's an indebted loser who doesn't even own a boat, which would be quite derogatory given the name his shop bears." hissed y/n.

spencer felt like he was shrinking with each passing second; y/n's hand and the magazine it held were digging into his chest, and penelope's eyes shone again with a dangerous glow, which together with the accusing finger was quite a disturbing sight.

"i see! so he invited you after all!” she exclaimed, and y/n dropped the magazine from her hand, which with a rustling sound fell to his lap and arranged her hands in such a way as if she wanted to strangle the blonde.

"yes, penelope!" y/n raised her voice. “he said something like maybe we can go out together or something and i said yeah, rather not, or something and immediately left the place. are you satisfied yet?”

penelope frowned a bit and sank back into the chair with a clearly disconsolate expression. she felt a little silly, just like y/n, who tried to straighten up a bit to give herself some dignity and brushed her skirt off her knee as if there were a few crumbs there, but they weren't.

"are you sure he was looking at your boobs and not your nails?" asked penelope after a moment.

"yes."

“well, then he is indeed a loser without a boat. pity. i liked his chin."

"oh, penelope," sighed y/n and smiled slightly as the blonde did the same.

y/n bent down again to put the magazines back in the plastic bag, and spencer moved his leg slightly, hoping the tense atmosphere had just ended. he didn't quite know what he could do if things got worse. he was also pleased to hear about the reunion of mark and y/n. he hoped he'd gotten away with it and wouldn't try to be interested in her again, but at the same time he wondered what he'd do if he heard the y/n words himself. yeah, rather not, or something. it sounded like his personal hell.

"pretty girl is back!"

they looked towards the pool. morgan was walking toward them in red swimming trunks that went past his knees, arms wide open, the corner of his mouth raised dangerously. apparently the little volleyball match had just ended; hotch was disappearing inside rossi's house as jj and emily were slowly approaching them.

"so what? we are going to play the game?" morgan asked, aiming the words at the y/n.

for a brief moment, the woman's face showed surprise, but then her mouth curved into a mocking grimace.

"if i didn't know you, morgan, i'd think you liked being humiliated. sure we're playing, i just need to get changed." y/n got up from the lounger and, grabbing the shopping bag, headed for the patio doors. as she passed the morgan, she looked over her shoulder at him, whispering, "i'll destroy you."

"you wish, honey." derek snorted, but it was hard to tell if y/n had heard his words because she didn't react to them in any way.

you wish, honey. he wondered what reaction y/n would get if he called her that nickname. he wasn't very good with words and it would probably end up painfully awkward. spencer would like to be like morgan — smooth in conversation, which he was able to combine with his appearance. would like to talk to y/n per honey. or whatever y/n finds attractive.

spencer saw the woman stop by rossi and hand him a crossword puzzle book, and the man patted her hand, giving her a smile. he didn't even notice how it appeared on his face as well. y/n was good, generous and open-minded, and spencer knew he could count on her, and that other people important to him could count on her, too.

"come on reid, get ready." threw derek in his direction, waking him from his lethargy.

spencer looked at him with surprise and maybe a little fear in his eyes. after years of being near derek's desk, he was used to the little teases derek gave him — he understood that they were never intended to hurt him, and he usually brushed them off or tried to respond to them in a similar way. but he also knew that sometimes morgan couldn't keep his mouth shut, and he feared that derek's swashbuckling smirk had something to do with y/n. he didn't know what it was yet, but he sure had it.

at the same time, emily and jj also appeared, sitting together on the deckchair on the other side of penelope and smiling at them, clearly tired.

"morgan, haven't you had enough? i wouldn't mess with y/n, she's pretty good at this stuf," emily muttered, scratching her ankle. "if i were you, i wouldn't pick myself up after a second failure."

"oh yeah, she took extra classes when she was in high school." jj supported her, nodding her head.

"oh please. i gave you a head start. like the gentleman i am." derek leaned forward with his hand on his chest, and they shook their heads in amusement.

spencer was about to ask what exactly it was about when the patio doors slid open again. automatically he looked towards the terrace and involuntarily parted his lips.

for a brief moment he thought he couldn't make any sound, let alone understandable and logical words. he didn't know what made him more emotional — how pretty y/n's face looked in the two braids that were now bouncing gently with her steps, or maybe the fact that her swimsuit was really litty and even spencer's mind wasn't in the mood could prepare him for how amazing she could look in it.

it was a two-piece, bottle green. spencer could see the bindings that held the top of the suit together — the ones at the nape of his neck (which he had seen before) and moments ago when she had her back to him for two seconds, closing the door behind her, also the one on her back. in addition, on both sides of her hips there were similar, but indetachable, decorative strings.

despite his sincere wish not to think too much of her in that particular sinful way, he had to refrain from imagining a moment when he would be allowed to pull either of them.

“i was just telling a pretty boy to get ready to kick his ass,” morgan said as y/n stopped in front of them.

"you didn't mention any kicking my ass and i still don't know what you mean," spencer replied, then frowned as penelope put in something from her kindle about how she liked it when he said ass.

"oh yes." y/n grabbed the end of one of the braids and gave him an apologetic look. “so a month ago morgan saw my volleyball medals while he was helping me redecorate my bedroom and said we absolutely had to go against him because he thinks he’s totally rocking.”

"because i rock."

"anyway, this morning while you were still sleeping, i got a little competitive and got you involved too." she sounded like she was genuinely sorry, but when her gaze met derek, her tone changed completely. "so you better stretch yourself morgan or we're going to crush you completely!"

y/n shot both of her index fingers at derek, and he laughed out loud and walked off towards the pool, where the woman's narrowed eyes led him.

spencer swallowed hard and clenched his hands again on the cover of his book. it was a real disaster unfolding to the cheers of the girls as y/n started her warm-up with feigned zeal.

subconsciously, he knew that he wasn't some important part of this two-man team — y/n clearly had no plans to involve him in the game beforehand, and it probably came about as a result of everyone's familiar scuffles between her and derek. yet he felt his stomach turn inside out again as he thought about the fact that he would have to take part in a game in which he was hopeless in front of everyone else.

"y/n." the woman looked at him, with a determined expression on her face, although a moment ago she had just been training her menacing gaze under the supervision of emily, whose role of focused trainer was not going very well. "can we talk somewhere else?"

"sorry girls, we have to talk about our super tactics"

they walked to the opposite end of the pool, hearing the excited voices of the girls behind them, who were just in the process of coming up with cheering slogans. spencer felt even worse when he thought that apparently most of the team knew about the planned showdown between y/n and derek and were looking forward to it.

"the thing is, i hit in your direction and you take straight to his half and so twenty-five times..."

"y/n, i'm not good at volleyball. actually, i'm not good at any sport that requires physical exertion." he confessed, reluctantly interrupting her.

for a nanosecond, y/n's enthusiasm waned a bit, but then she frowned, confused.

"what are you talking about? i'm sure you're great. besides, you're tall!" she remarked, sending him a smile and shrugging.

"and what about it?"

"all volleyball players are tall." she shrugged again, and spencer sighed softly.

then y/n turned serious and placed her hands on his thin shoulders. even though her hands were only touching him through the gray cotton t-shirt he was wearing, spencer felt the tips of his ears turn red gradually.

the team knew about his reluctance to have close physical contact, and spencer made sure that all new people he met were also informed. he knew penelope had told y/n about it before the woman noticed him sitting at his desk, and he was grateful to her that he had missed this awkward conversation. however, spencer quickly realized that he actually doesn't mind physical contact as long as the person he's having it with is y/n.

her acts of kindness and friendship drew him into his terrible crush with each working day, and made him more and more aware of the need for her touch. he had even unconsciously searched for it, provoking occasions for his fingertips to touch hers, to pass documents, for her arm to brush against his as they walked down the not-too-wide corridor to the briefing room, and for his hand to be within reach, when one day the plugs in the office went out and it became completely dark.

he naively thought he was being discreet about it — but the team quickly noticed his lack of aversion to her touch and made jokes about it. spencer hoped that their remarks didn't reach y/n and that she didn't notice it herself — he was able to make do with whatever physical intimacy she unwittingly gave him.

however, he realized that y/n arranged the touch herself, almost on the same level as she maintained with the rest of the team.

now she was staring deep into his eyes, and reid hoped the red didn't spread to his cheeks as well.

"listen to me, spencer. i won't say it's just for fun because i'm fucking desperate to win and i'm not going to give morgan the satisfaction, but i will say that i believe your volleyball player is deep inside of you and just needs a gentle push to bring him to the surface," she whispered, which made spencer look pained.

"i'm afraid he's already there. he's floating, more precisely. because he's dead."

"you see? it's not so bad if you still have your sense of humor," she laughed, patting his shoulder, but her laughter died away as she crossed arms over her chests, leaning towards him with a worried expression. he tried not to show the disappointment of losing her hand on his body. "spencer, i can tell derek you don't want to play. i know i should have asked you first."

"what's going on there?! y/n, you can give up now!" derek leaned against the wall of his half of the field with a grin and waited for them to arrive.

they looked in his direction, but y/n quickly returned her gaze to spencer's face.

he knew that volleyball was not his strong suit. just as he knew the last thing he wanted was to humiliate himself in front of the team and, of course, in front of y/n because of it. but he noticed how excited she was. and he didn't want her to lose the sparkle in her eyes he saw when she explained their rather unreal tactics to him.

"i'll do it," he decided at last, nodding his head a few times, just in case, to confirm himself in this decision.

y/n opened her mouth in surprise and grabbed his wrist as he started towards the pool, forcing him to meet her eyes again.

"spencer, if you really don't want to, you don't have to."

"yeah, but suddenly i felt like kicking morgan's ass," he replied, though he didn't really know if he wanted to. he wanted to give her what she wanted, of that he was sure.

y/n stared at him intently, probably searching for something to contradict his words, but reid made sure his expression was convincing enough. in the end, the girl lost the fight with a huge smile, and from her chest came an excited sound like a combination of a squeak and a giggle.

"i like it when you say ass too!" she said and stole a kiss on his cheek, immediately turning on her heel and stepping into the pool.

spencer turned crimson and involuntarily raised his hand to touch his fingertips to the place where the muted pink y/n lips touched his skin. chill out a bit.

as he had predicted, he was not doing very well. emily, jj and penelope moved the sunbeds a little closer to the pool for a better view and started cheering for their team right from the start, which only distracted spencer and put even more pressure on him.

in addition, although he had suspected it for a long time, but now he was convinced of it, y/n, despite the whole package of good qualities, also had some worse ones, such as an unhealthy desire to compete and a need to be the best.

things seemed pretty stable at first — y/n let morgan go surfing first, definitely determined to win. she hit the first few throws and then ended them with a strong knockout of the ball that sprayed the water, announcing their first point. actually because of her, but y/n held up her hands for a high five as if it was a joint effort.

then there was a slight complication as derek hit the ball towards him, which spencer didn't expect at all and his bounce was too light for the ball to go over the net. y/n reassured him that everything was fine and kept playing, but spencer felt like the worst person in the world, especially since emily moaned in agony, even though that was only the first point lost (she had already taken another sip of something lemon yellow, but it wasn't lemonade and she was getting a little cranky).

y/n quickly rebounded and gained the upper hand, and spencer even managed to hit the ball a few times without sending it to the net or out of the water court. but eventually the losing streak came back and they lost points again, and a crease appeared between y/n's eyebrows that made spencer nervous.

it was twenty-two to nineteen for morgan, and the man had already indulged in a few snide comments. y/n with obvious impatience somehow made the ball finally hit the water on morgan's side and passed the ball to spencer with a serious expression.

reid liked it a lot better when he wasn't closer to the pool walls, and didn't get a few stressful stares on his shoulders while he was surfing, especially since he'd hit the ball out of court way too often. in addition, now he was sure that if he repeated it, he would hear a martyrdom moan not from emily's lips, but from y/n. then he would allow himself a small humiliating drowning.

he sighed softly, rolling the ball over in his hand. the kids at his school bounced it hard on the floor to give it a better bounce. spencer couldn't do that now, and he wasn't really sure if the tactic worked. every time he was in this place, he thought about how what he was best at would help him. however, there was not enough time to mess with physics.

he hit the ball down, grimacing, just in case.

however, contrary to his expectations, the ball went over the net and began to fall within the pool area, not on the stone path outside it.

out of the corner of his eye, he saw the corner of y/n's mouth twitch slightly upwards. the ends of her braids were wet with chlorinated water and dripping drops; spencer, wanting to preserve what little dignity he had, held back with all his might lest his gaze fall a little lower, where the drops ran down her skin and into the hollow between her breasts. he also judiciously ignored the fact that the soaked fabric of her bikini clung to her body, which seemed to reflect the sun's rays and seemed to glisten slightly. plus, her…

he couldn't say exactly what had happened, but he knew that one moment he was watching the y/n body moving in slow motion, and the next he was bended in half, feeling a dizzying, sharp pain shoot through his head. he remembered holding his hands to his face, feeling his nose twitch as still as a cartoon character who had just rung a big bell, and there was sudden chaos around him; several voices rose in surprise, someone close to him shouted his name, and the water around him surged, pushing him against the pool wall. he also felt something drip onto his fingers.

"god, spencer!" delicate, wet yet warm hands brushed uncertainly over his still veiled face, and spencer recognized the terrified y/n in that voice.

"dude, now you've got nothing left!"

"seriously, derek?!" y/n was furious, but when she turned to him again, her voice was soft but still nervous. "spencer, look at me. everything's all right?! pass the towel! rossi, go get the keys, we're going to the hospital! may be broken!"

the nose wasn't broken. which spencer knew as soon as he managed to get his questions answered from the panic-stricken team. no one noticed the swelling, and no hematomas appeared under his eyes; the profuse bleeding that y/n was trying to stop with more and more tissues, and the pain he felt didn't have to be signs of a fracture, though they could. the team wasn't going to take his word for it anyway, and hotch, though the most composed of the group, was firmly pressing on the accelerator.

spencer, apart from feeling like everything was spinning around him from time to time, he felt a bit overwhelmed; there was too much noise around him — his friends were arguing about who was to blame for his accident, y/n had her hand over his face (although he assured her he could still hold a few tissues) and was squeezing his hand tight, increasing the pressure when she was responding to morgan.

when they got to the hospital, and the doctor finally treated their panicked group, he only confirmed what spencer had suspected all along. he didn't even have a concussion, and this disturbingly profuse hemorrhage was caused by the rupture of a larger vessel. recommended ice packs and rest. something spencer could prescribe for himself.

they back to rossi's house in a slightly less nervous mood, though y/n didn't speak to derek, who had repeatedly apologized not only to spencer but also to her. y/n, however, seemed adamant and still preoccupied with the situation. spencer suspected she felt guilty because she had talked him into it, after all, though he had mentioned to her once or twice that it was nothing and that all symptoms would be gone by tonight.

as they crossed the threshold of the house, three waiting heads appeared from behind the living room wall, and again there was a din of explaining everything to the rest of the team, who had to stay because of emily's tip. spencer finally managed to get out of their company and quickly disappeared into his room before anyone noticed him.

from that moment on, two hours passed, which spencer spent lying motionless with an ice pack against his face. he stared at the ceiling and multiplied every now and then the number of panels on the floor. there was an eerie silence downstairs, and spencer wondered if everything was all right down there.

he was about to decide to get out of bed and go downstairs when there were two single knocks against his door. he called the person inside, and after a while a y/n head appeared.

"i have a bowl for your used ice pack and your book you left on the sun lounger," she said softly, smiling, seemingly slightly confused.

"come in," he replied, just as quietly, though there was no reason for them to communicate that way.

the previously awkward y/n grimace turned into her beautiful smile as she slipped inside, closing the door behind her. she was clutching his book to her chest and in the other hand she was holding the purple plastic bowl spencer had seen in the kitchen cupboard this morning.

he involuntarily smiled as he thought of how y/n reminded him of a small child who had just managed to sneak into a friend's room despite the watchful eyes of his parents — she jumped on his bed, then sat cross-legged and sighed heavily as spencer pulled the compress away from his face, to put it in the bowl.

"is it that bad?" he joked, raising his eyebrows to which y/n snorted mockingly.

"you don't even know how much. you look exactly the same!” she laughed as she placed the bowl with compress on the bedside table by spencer's bed. to do so, she had to lean over him, and this time the scent of her floral shampoo and mango lotion filled his nostrils; she must have taken a shower afterwards because he couldn't smell the chlorine on her. however, when y/n returned to her seat, her expression became a little more serious. "how do you feel? i know everyone asked you this way too many times already, but i'm really worried."

"much better. i think i've stopped feeling that throbbing pain, although that may just be because of the ice," he replied, smiling slightly. "and hey, you don't have to worry so much about it. i already told you it's okay and it's not your fault."

"yeah, but still. i don't know what we'd do if you slashed that pretty face."

spencer frowned as if he disliked her words, but y/n just laughed again. in fact, he had already wondered a few times if the fact that y/n called him pretty boy, like morgan, meant anything at all. a large number of voices in his head said that this was just another habit that the girl had picked up from derek, as she had done in the case of throwing balls of paper into the garbage cans. however, there was a part that made spencer's cheeks a little pink when he heard those words come out of her mouth. sometimes hearing it from her was completely different than hearing it from anyone else.

"yeah, morgan has already pointed that out," he said finally, feeling it had to be done.

it seems like y/n was just waiting for spencer to mention morgan because she suddenly gasped and jumped up on the mattress, frowning.

“you know, i was joking now, but it really pissed me off at the time! i was terrified because i had never seen so much blood while doing anything other than catching serial killers, and i thought it could end up much worse than a broken nose. and derek didn't care at all!" y/n's hands engaged the aggressive gesticulation mode that appeared on the horizon when she was really high. "i was so furious with him! and his irritating taunts on the way to the hospital!”

"what taunts?" he asked, confused.

of course he was aware that y/n and morgan had spent the entire drive to the hospital arguing, with garcia joining in from time to time, now trying to get them to agree, now putting in her two cents as if she couldn't hold back any longer. at the time, however, he was too preoccupied with his bleeding nose and maybe a little y/n touch as well to notice what exactly their heated discussion was about.

"never mind, suitably stupid for his level," y/n grunted, blushing unexpectedly and tucking her hair behind her ear, though not a strand fell to her cheek. “anyway, i had a bit of an argument with him, and now i feel a little guilty about him because, i have to admit, i went a bit too far. but i won't apologize to him so he doesn't think about it too much."

"but you'll reconcile, won't you? it would be a bit awkward if you won't," he murmured, partly to her, partly to himself.

before y/n could answer, however, the door swung open timidly after three hasty knocks. derek morgan's head looked inside, as if the man was well aware that they were talking about him and decided to intervene. however, there was a swashbuckling smile on his lips, the kind you couldn't be angry at.

"hey hey..." he crooned, smiling even wider. "how it's going?"

"how it should?" y/n answered the question with a question, annoyance evident in her voice. "he almost got a concussion."

"not at all," spencer interjected, but he was ignored by each of them.

"i'm sorry mom, it won't happened again," derek replied, making y/n utter an exasperated sigh. morgan walked in even though no one had actually invited him and approached them with a mysterious plastic bag in his hand. “penelope gave me a hint so i could think of a way to finally settle the conflict, and here it is: the chinese you obviously love. appreciate my efforts, pretty girl, they had to bring her from another town.”

"then i guess the thanks go to the supplier, mr. morgan," y/n noticed, and spencer saw that there was an amused sparkle behind the sternness of her gaze. the girl accepted the takeaway, much to morgan's satisfaction, and arranged it beside her. "nice of you. i stopped being mad at you about an hour and a half ago, but it's still cool."

morgan reached out to flick her nose and y/n slapped it, laughing loudly.

spencer, sitting with his legs stretched forward, leaned against the back of his wooden bed, watching their interaction. with displeasure he felt a nasty jealousy sprouting in his stomach; something about the sight of their casual touch, each of them knowing that this quarrel and the words that accompanied it had no meaning, made him almost see the green covering his fingers. and they had done it all right in front of him.

spencer laughed mentally. he was really pathetic — morgan and y/n were friends. and y/n still wasn't going to consider him, even if he got punched in the nose.

"oh, dude. i'd like to get punched in the nose too if it meant y/n would look after me," morgan sighed dreamily, turning to spencer, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"i'll take care of you too, morgan, if that's what you want. but before that, i'll give you a nose so we'll have one reason," y/n replied, causing the man to chuckle in an amused tone as he backed away towards the door.

"okay, i understand, i'm leaving now. have fun, kids," he said, then disappeared through the heavy door.

y/n shook her head, turning her body towards spencer. her silken hair, which had been braided since spencer had first laid eyes on her that afternoon, now fell over her shoulders, which were no longer covered by the t-shirt she had thrown on in a hurry as everyone ran around rossi's living room, occasionally catching spencer's shoulder, as if to reassure themselves that he was still standing there. she was wearing something a lot more elegant now, which belied spencer's idea that she had already showered. in that case, she'd already be wearing her yellow turtleneck pajamas, which spencer raised his eyebrows at the first time they had to share a room during the case.

instead of yellow turtles, reid saw a plain, rather thin, black shirt tucked into denim shorts. and it didn't look like a sleep suit. but actually spencer shouldn't be interested in that.

pushing those tactless thoughts away, he reached out for the plastic bag morgan had brought them.

it was filled with distinctive boxes, the sharp edges of which pushed the plastic bag apart, and the smell that wafted from them despite the paper reminded spencer of all those late nights spent with y/n in hotel rooms, during which the television was told by a weary voice about the life of individual species, and the woman was in the so close to him that her shoulder touched his. he only liked the smell for those memories.

y/n leaned over with interest to look at the bag as well. spencer realized after a short while that the girl's forehead was not far from his, and a little surprised by the sudden closeness, he lifted his head to look at her. y/n did the same, feeling his burning gaze on her and smiled softly without breaking eye contact.

for a brief moment, he felt as if there was absolutely nothing else around them. there were only y/e/c y/n irises, her lightly freckled nose that was to blame for the sun, and her pink lips. lips he would love to kiss. or even brush his own lips.

but before he opened it to say anything that might lead to that, his bedroom door groaned heavily, as it did when it was opened very slowly. they pulled away from each other almost immediately, turning their heads in their direction. spencer, for an irrational moment, even thought that hotch might be behind them, about to lead him out of his own room by the ear like a rascal of the worst kind. jesus, spencer, he reminded himself, you're a grown man. if you want to kiss a woman, you will.

however, it wasn't hotch's head that emerged from behind the door, but emily, who didn't seem as frisky as she had been a few hours ago. she eyed each of them and walked inside to the accompaniment of expectant silence from them.

"are you guys kissing?" she asked after a moment, an excited smile on her face as she tilted her head slightly.

"what? no!" spencer thought y/n seemed pretty flustered considering the fact that their faces were inches apart just moment ago and she was clearly trying to pretend that none of this had happened. well, nothing that spencer wasn't prepared for.

"say what you want. reid looks like a ripe tomato."

spencer choked on his own saliva, drawing the women's attention, and his hand immediately reached for the glass on his nightstand, which was half full of water.

"i-it's a compress." he wanted to somehow explain what his face looked like, but no one, including himself, seemed convinced (and the water had been standing here since last night and tasted bad).

"of course…"

"i thought you were going to look for a club," y/n put in a quick, drawing emily's attention back to her.

"because we're going. i just came to drop it off." emily held out a sealed magazine to her friend, in which reid recognized a nature documentary. "what a shame you're not going. it's always more fun with you."

"you'll be fine without me," she replied y/n, getting out of bed and walking over to the small TV set in the corner of the room. she sat down in front of the cabinet he was standing on and began unpacking the magazine with a concentrated frown. "thanks, emily. just don't overdo it this time, okay? you've already had a drink today."

"boredom!" the dark-haired woman dragged out the first syllable, grabbing the doorknob. "you talking like jj! i'm leaving before you infect me with your innocence!"

emily had indeed disappeared through the bedroom door, and after a while the sound of her heels could be heard as they left the floor in a hurry.

there was a silence in the room, one that y/n would surely describe as safely comfortable; such silences sometimes happened between them when they were filling out paperwork at their desks, sharing dried fruit (y/n loved dried apples, a fact spencer consciously remembered) when they were sitting side by side on the jet, sharing headphones because y/n wanted to show him her current musical obsession, or when they sat on the benches outside the office building during their lunch break and ate their breakfasts. they were good silences. and maybe that silence would be good too if spencer's brain wasn't working at full capacity. all the information he had gathered in the last dozen or so minutes was quite plausible.

"a penny for your thoughts, doctor," hummed y/n as she focused on pressing buttons on the rossi player; it was one of the more expensive ones, because it not only read vhs tapes, but also dvds. "i can hear them even from this distance."

"it's nothing, it's just... i wonder why you don't go out with girls," he replied after a moment's hesitation.

from his seat on the bed, he could see y/n's eyebrows frown a bit, but he wasn't sure if it was because of her ignorance about using the player or because of his words.

"i was about to go, i even let penelope rummage through my suitcase," she confessed. the player finally listened to her and slid out the dvd drive, where a disc with a nature documentary soon landed. “but i thought about the first day of our trip that i spent watching some action movie with morgan, and yesterday i got drunk with the girls. we miss each other a bit, don't you think? and today, when we finally did something together, you ended up in the hospital. so we'll lighten our spirits with some fun-facts about the insects of africa. how about that, doctor?"

spencer smiled weakly as y/n looked over her shoulder at him. now he felt even worse than when morgan had hit him with the volleyball — it all sounded to him as if y/n had decided to sacrifice a girls' night out of guilt and resentment for spending time with him.

“y/n, you should go out with the girls. it will probably be much more interesting than here with me,” he said finally, but as the words hung between them, he didn't feel any easier than he'd expected, and even harder. especially since y/n looked over her shoulder at him again, her brows heavily furrowed.

"you're kidding? i'd much rather eat chinese and watch a nature documentary with you than walk emily home drunk." she shook her head as if he had said the stupidest thing she had heard in a long time; the TV brightened up and showed the output page of the document. "by the way... we haven't watched anything together lately... i missed it."

"you miss it?" he stammered, perhaps a little too surprised in a voice judging by the way y/n was clearly confused, blushing.

“well, yes… i have the impression that this is our little tradition. you know, something that's only ours. i can't imagine morgan watching nature documents with us, because who would you whisper additional information into the ear first?” she asked, involuntarily laughing softly.

she got up off the floor, holding the remote in her right hand as she turned off the light with her left. the room went dark, and spencer swallowed hard, seeing the figure of y/n slowly approaching him, crouching by the nightstand to flick the light switch.

the light, dimmed by the lampshade, was a soft red that spread over the walls of the room. spencer felt like y/n had never looked so beautiful, and at the same time he felt the tension in the air.

"it's cool, i like it," whispered y/n, sitting tentatively on the edge of the mattress, near his hips. "but you've been acting weird lately and we stopped doing that."

"weird?" he repeated, frowning. god, he wanted so badly to place his hands behind her ear at that moment and pull her to him; he wanted the moment before emily came back.

“you stopped talking to me, starting conversations on your own and all. i felt like i was the only one trying. every time i walked into the room you and the team stopped talking and all eyes were on me. i don't need to be a profiler to know you were talking about me. but everyone said it wasn't about me, so i guess i let it go a bit and tried not to think about it too much, but it still wasn't the same between us." as she spoke, y/n kept her head down and didn't seem to want to look up at him. "i thought you'd come to my room when we had a case in chester like always, but you didn't. and not later either. and later too. and you acted like nothing happened. plus, it really annoyed me that you stared at me without saying a word, and when i asked what was going on, you said it was nothing, but then you did it again."

y/n jumped out of bed, crossing her arms over her chest. she also began pacing in a characteristic way, as if in thought. her eyes roamed all the furniture she could find, but finally fixed her gaze on him.

"okay, am i exaggerating? i feel like i kind of did, and now i've said all those things and i feel really stupid…”

"no!" spencer raised his voice a little more than was necessary. he sprang up from the mattress, tired of the thought that the woman might think that the matter they were discussing was not important to him. "i…"

"stay still, the doctor said you might get dizzy," y/n interrupted him as she approached him.

"i'm not dizzy," he replied, but y/n had already reached out to him, as if to gently push him towards the bed.

"lie down," she insisted, but without much thought spencer grabbed her hands and lowered them to the level of their hips.

"no, listen to me. i'm sorry i've been acting this way lately," he said, and when he finally realized he was holding y/n's hands firmly, he let go a bit, but not too much; so that he can still touch her warm skin. “i… i was avoiding you a bit because the whole trip was so stressful and i started thinking too much and it influenced my behavior, but…

"stressful? why?"

"because... it's so stupid." he ran his hand through his hair, but his dark strands fell over his forehead anyway; it made him even angrier. “the thing is, i realized we'd start spending time together outside of work, and then you'd see i'm the same spencer from the office when i'm not at the office. and then you'll realize what a boring person i am and you won't want to hang out with me anymore. and i... i like you, y/n. i like you so much that i'm afraid of losing you because of me."

y/n frowned worriedly, tilting her head slightly. for a brief moment she stared at a point on his shoulder, as if searching for the right words. spencer, on the other hand, was feeling more and more nauseous as it dawned on him that perhaps the words he'd used shouldn't have been spoken to his friends, even though they sneakily sounded appropriate.

"well..." y/n sighed, leading him back to the mattress where they sat next to each other. spencer anticipated the worst and was slowly starting to feel like the biggest fool. he had a big mouth and always talked too much, everyone told him so. "i guess it's good that you're still spencer from the office when you're out of the office, right? because i wouldn't want you to be anyone else."

he looked at her and the woman smiled softly, still holding his hand.

"and you're not boring and i can't believe you think that of yourself! you're the most interesting person i know," she assured. “you are the only person in my circle of friends with whom i can watch all the movies in the world, because there is a 99% chance that you will be able to translate dialogues for me fluently! and the only one who can read and summarize the book i forgot to read for my book club, and i didn't have to be an ignorant who doesn't know anything about "pride and prejudice."

“you got all the threads with mr. darcy mixed up anyway,” he reminded her, smiling at the memory.

"i know and that's why i don't go there anymore!" y/n laughed as well, her shoulders trembling slightly.

even now he could picture in his mind the moment y/n walked into the office, heading without thinking to his desk with an expression of pure horror and embarrassment. half laughing, half almost crying, she related to him a meeting of her book club she had started attending. she told him how she got everything mixed up and made a fool of herself in front of the young women. she also didn't hesitate to mention how she drank wine in large gulps until the end of the meeting, and yet she was the first to run out of katy's apartment.

he felt y/n squeeze his hand a little tighter and looked at it again. the nausea he was feeling subsided a bit and he even started laughing at his panicked fantasies — it was y/n; the kind, always natural, and generous y/n who could never think of him that way.

“look, i know who you are may seem boring to you, but to me, you're the coolest person i've ever met in my life. and the nicest. i still remember how you remembered my birthday when others forgot. and when you brought me soup when i was sick. and i had two soups, because my mother had already brought one. you remember all the little things i tell you. that i prefer coffee with caramel syrup over maple syrup. that in 7th grade i fell out of a tree and have a scar on my knee which i'd rather you forget because derek still teases me." their soft laughs echoed through the room again. "you're the best spencer.

"thanks," he whispered.

so that's what it was supposed to be. misunderstandings and inaccuracies are resolved, y/n will finally choose one of the options that were displayed on the screen of a small TV and spend the next hour side by side eating chilled food from a chinese restaurant. it wasn't something spencer would have hoped for if his earlier speech had been worded better, but something he expected when he said what he had to say. but that was fine. he learned to enjoy the little things.

but suddenly he felt y/n fingers under his chin, directing his gaze back to her face. they were so close it hurt.

"and you'll never lose me, spencer. you can't get rid of me that easily," she said, also in a whisper. "i'm like a venereal disease."

spencer frowned.

"it was a disgusting comparison."

"i know, sorry."

"y/n," he whispered, never taking his eyes off the deep hue of her irises that scanned his face.

"yeah?"

he swallowed once more, hoping that the remnants of courage didn't run down his esophagus as well. he wasn't sure and couldn't be, but maybe this was the moment he should have heeded morgan and penelope and emily and jj and rossi and hotch...

"when i said i like you, i meant that..."

"i know, spencer." y/n smiled softly, and spencer had the impression that her face was a little closer than it had been two seconds before. "and guess what... i like you too."

spencer cursed mentally and, sliding his hand into y/n's hair, pulled her even closer to him.

the kiss was a bit tentative at first, and a terrifying thought crossed his mind that perhaps he had been in too much of a hurry and had misread some of the signals — he had done that all too often, after all, and the y/n words might have had nothing to do with what he was saying, with what spencer thought they had. y/n, however, returned the kiss, giving it a new pace for it, tangling her fingers in his hair. then reid realized he had stopped thinking about anything.

all that mattered at that moment was the taste of y/n cherry lip gloss, her hands on his neck, and soon his arms and chest as she climbed onto his lap. spencer thought it was too much — her scent filled his nostrils, completely befuddled him, her hands craving for closeness tracing every curve of his body, making him dizzy — and at the same time he felt that he needed more.

he lifted the hand he'd been resting on the mattress and ran it over y/n's bare thigh, not sure if he was allowed to do it. her skin was smooth, warm and cool at the same time, and spencer wanted to know how other parts of her body felt. y/n smiled through the kiss, reaching for his wandering hand, which she then placed on her hip.

spencer took it a step further and moved her down her back to pull her closer to him. he wanted to be as close to her as possible, possibly even absorb himself into her, if that meant he would always feel the way he did now.

y/n moved her kisses to his cheek, jaw, and behind his ear, where she sucked his skin. spencer moaned softly, surprised, and the girl with a smile headed towards his neck, biting it with kisses.

"thank god penelope left the house," y/n mumbled into his skin, saying the words in between caresses. “she probably would have said her i knew it! or didn't i tell you?!"

spencer pulled back slightly, mouth parting speechless. he remembered perfectly well what penelope had said when he heard that they were going to watch a nature documentary, and now his mind, despite being completely distracted by this unexpected situation, connected the dots — the movie was on but still not quite and the y/n slowly starting to rubbing his hips — coming to an unequivocal conclusion.

"are we going to…?" the unfinished question hung in the air, making y/n's eyes widen.

"what? no! not if you don't want to!” she assured quickly, blushing furiously. “but we can if you want… but we don't have to do anything! kissing is cool too. we don't even have to kiss…"

"no!" he protested, straightening up a bit, for he had been leaning more on the mattress on his elbows than actually sitting on it. "no, i want to. i want… everything,” he whispered, much quieter now, slightly ashamed of his apparent need. after thinking about it, he added, "please?"

y/n's face stretched into his favorite kind of smile, and the woman leaned toward him once more, causing spencer to return to his previous position. out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand reach for the TV remote. without breaking eye contact with him, she hit the play button and pulled him into a kiss as the documentary began.

spencer felt like he was about to pass out.

"jesus, you're so cute i could bite your nose if it didn't end well," she said, making him snort in amusement.

"what?" he asked, but y/n just laughed along with him and reached for the buttons on her shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, while kissing him.

spencer never in his wildest dreams would have thought that he could be right here — under the thighs of the most beautiful girl who, he was sure, would never look at him the way y/n was now sizing him up, exposing more and more naked patches of her skin. he breathed heavily, stroking the skin of her thighs as she slid off the black fabric. he didn't know exactly where he had landed, actually, he didn't know much at the moment. his iq didn't matter anymore, he was just a jerk who stared captivated at y/n's swimsuit-covered breasts, his mouth slightly parted and his gaze absent.

"something's wrong?" a soft y/n voice cut through his not very coherent thoughts and distracted him from the dark green fabric where the nipples poked through.

"no," he replied firmly, propping himself up on his elbows a bit to bring his lips closer to hers. "you're just beautiful."

he kissed her hard, feeling y/n lift the corners of his mouth, and his hand, previously resting on her leg, moved up to the woman's back, where the strings of her swimsuit brushed the nape of her neck.

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

Six of Crows Russian Edition

Today I found this gorgeous gem at the bookstore!

So a few years ago I moved overseas to live in a Russian speaking country. I am not in Russia, for the record. The national language here is not Russian, but it is commonly spoken in my city.

Today at the bookstore I looked for a copy of Crooked Kingdom for the cast of Shadow and Bone to sign this May when I go to A Storm of Shadows and Crows convention in Paris. I don't own a copy of SOC or KC in English and there's no chance of finding one where I live. The next best option was getting a book in the local language and calling it a souvenir of my time abroad. To my delight I found this lovely Russian edition of Six of Crows!

More stunning artwork below.

There were multiple versions of the books to choose from. The original art and the Netflix artwork were available too. The most impressive part was finding copies of the original covers WITHOUT the Netflix sticker. (Haha, suck it Netflix.) To the right, not pictured were King of Scars and Rule of Wolves.

I've never seen this cover variation before. It was an exciting find!

The Russian version I bought is illustrated by (I assume Russian?) artist Eva Eller.

I didn't see a copy of Crooked Kingdom with illustrations by the same artist at this bookstore, but it must exist. Mine was the last copy of SOC with the Russian artwork. Maybe it was sold out?

Google Translate titles the book Six of Ravens, lol. But that's just a translation error because a little google-foo showed that ворона (pronounced vorona) means crow. Interestingly, while typing the title, I learned that вор (pronounced vor) means thief. Interesting how similar the words crow and thief are in Russian. Checks out.

Above is the art printed on the side of the pages. Love how it still includes the side of the pages colored, just like the original books.

The hardcover underneath the jacket is a crow. It's not the same as pictured on the original CK cover, but it is similar. Love the messy, broken, bent feathers, yet the crow is still able to fly. Metaphor for our six characters? Absolutely!

The book was wrapped in cellophane so I didn't realize there was even more art inside! Here is the inner cover. IT'S BEAUTIFUL! The back is the same. It captures the foggy haze of Ketterdam so well.

The flaps of the book jacket are images from the inner cover. But there's a cracked texture over them that gives it a gorgeous grittiness.

The candle is the left side of the inner book jacket. Sorry the image isn't flat, I didn't want to damage the jacket by straightening it out.

The right side of the book jacket shows all the Crows!

Let's appreciate how Matthias looks snow pale and serious. Inej is taller than Nina -- she must be standing on a step stool. No clue why both of their eyes are closed, especially when Nina is the one pointing to the paper. They are lovely. Kaz has on his scheming face. Jesper is as handsome as every version of him should be. And Wylan looks bored AF because A.) he's already memorized the map he drew or B.) he can't read whatever document Kaz has in front of them. Wait, no, Wylan is making heart eyes at Jesper. All of the above can be true.

Inside is a small illustration at the beginning of each chapter, which changes with each section.

You can also see the Crow's names written in Cyrillic. Inej, Kaz, Nina, and Matthias translate easily. Jesper uses the д (letter D) and ж (pronounced like zhe) letter combination that makes his name sound like Zhesper since there is no J in Cyrillic. It's worth pointing out (again) that Wylan's name does not translate perfectly. There is no W in the Cyrillic alphabet. (As someone who also has a W in their name, I sympathize with Wylan here.) I'm no expert in Russian, but I'm pretty sure -- with the help of google translate -- that Wylan is pronounced as Oo-ai-len. Poor boy can't catch a break.

Each of the five section of the book use different chapter art. They all do an excellent job capturing the atmosphere.

The paper is so thin that you can easily see the printing on the opposite side. Not ideal for an edition that's otherwise this lovely. Oh well.

Given that Ravka is fantasy Russia, it's not a surprise to find the Grisha Verse books in Russian.

I am so excited to bring this book to Paris for the cast to sign!

[darlingmbappe]

When We’re Ready [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: After months of not getting pregnant, your mental health takes a big hit.

Warnings: SMUT! Minors, leave. Mentions of depression, slight angst, penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), brief self pleasure, cussing, google translated French, badly spell checked. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

The days were colder and the last snow of winter was sure to come any day now. Every morning, Kylian would leave bundled up and ready to train, and you’d stay home – left to your own devices with the same bitter thoughts you've collected over the past seven months. 

Getting laid off in early November seemed like a blessing in disguise, but sitting here in the chill of late February with nothing to do but wonder what the hell was wrong with your body made you realize it was more of a curse than a godsend. Maybe the universe was preparing your schedule for motherhood, you thought – needing time to ready the home for a newborn – time that you couldn't find with a job. But, still you remain jobless and without a child. Alone for most of the day, and sometimes days when Kylian went away.

Seven months seems like it’s too soon to feel this type of dreadful disappointment, especially since you’ve read it takes couples upwards of a year to get pregnant… but when you’ve prayed night after night, thoughts consumed with nothing but babies, listened to your husband raving about when the day finally comes, getting your hopes up just be let down once more… for seven months… it takes its toll. 

You were surprised when you heard a key jam into the front door, a mug full of lukewarm tea clung onto your chest as you watched trash TV in the living room, pajamas buried under the comforter you dragged directly from the downstairs guest room. You watched as Ky walked toward you with furrowed brows. 

“Hey.” His voice was gentle.

 “Hi.” You smile forcefully. “You’re home early.”

He hums and sits next to you on the couch. “Not really… It’s past six.”

When he said this to you, even with his tender tone, he hated how your face dropped with confusion, wondering how you spent your day cooped up in here. Of course he’d noticed your deteriorating emotional strength. He wasn’t so sure how to deal with all of this, also strained from having to pretend to be strong for the both of you. 

He kissed your cheek upon seeing your tears well up, pulling you into his body while you tried to hide your emotion. You laughed a little. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

He rubbed your back in an attempt to sooth you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, mon coeur.”

You pulled yourself together surprisingly quickly, the veil of embarrassment not unnoticed by your perceptive husband, but doing his best to not bring it up and make you more aware of his knowledge. 

He ordered take out while you took a steaming shower, satisfied at the dinner table with a mouth full of chicken fried rice. Conversations flowed innocently, but your heart faltered a bit when you got that notification on your phone from your period tracking app – you were ovulating!

Great.

The distinct chime made your food so dry in your mouth, having difficulty swallowing it. You put your phone face down on the table, pretending you didn't both see and hear it. 

He stares at you for a bit. You’re looking down at your plate, saying nothing, not meeting his gaze – though you felt it. He puts his hand on yours. “Bebe…”

“Stop.” You grumble, avoiding his eye contact. “I’m not in the mood.”

He sighs, clanging his fork a little louder than he intended to in the twinge of frustration. He understood, but he just wished you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. 

In December, you both had visited a fertility clinic to make sure all the gears were working correctly – and they were. It was amazing news that gave you both a fresh drive after months of let downs, but two months and four negative tests harshly dampened that high. You had been pretty hard on yourself, even if Doctor Laclairc said you had a pristine uterus and it just takes longer for some people. 

The noise clattering on his plate caused you to look up, annoyed. Kylian rubbed his temples with his head in his hands, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“What?” You barked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. He was holding back, you could tell. “Just say it, Kylian.”

“What do you want me to say?” He hissed from across that table.

“Whatever you’re not saying right now!”

He takes in a deep breath of air, trying his best to keep his head level. You pointedly stare at him, waiting for something to leave his mouth. He wiped his face with a napkin, tossing it back on the table. “You’re not the only one hurting.” He placed it softly, but you can hear the deep exasperation, emotionally exhausted. It shook you a little, having seen Kylian as a steady rock through all of this. His optimism had carried you through, letting yourself cry in his arms to find comfort. Sure, you knew he felt sad, but he hasn't let you see his devastation in full swing. “Do you think I’m in the mood? I’m not. It’s exhausting.” His eyes were slightly glossy as he expressed himself, voice loud but so unsure. You stare at him, silent. “But, we have to keep trying. I want this. You want this – I know how bad you want this. So, please. Give us a chance.”

His voice was so gentle at the end, emotions soaking every word that left his chest. You dipped your head down, knowing how you'd let your thinned patience steer your words and actions. Kylian never deserved the misguided anger that you let seep through. He’d been nothing but an anchor through these tolling seasons, putting your stability in front of his own.

He gets up out of his chair and slowly walks to yours, kneeling at your side where you sat and stared up at your teary eyes. 

With your hand now taken in his, he places a gentle thumb on your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “It’ll all be worth it.” He confirms, kissing the back of your hand. 

You sniffled, nodding as you turned your body toward him. Your arms wrapped so tightly around his neck and his around your middle. You both breathed in at first contact, some tears falling into the fabric of each other's shirts. The way he grasped you was allconsuming. It was a true embrace that you returned. He just felt like home.

You kiss his cheek, smooching the area until you place one on his lips. Now, holding his face and gazing into him, the strong wall he had built was knocked down. You saw the pain and urgency swirl in his irises. He pecks your lips, letting his hands roam slowly on your back.

You sigh as your lips quivered. All he did was run a thumb over your bottom lip, holding back his own exploding emotions. 

He stood and your eyes followed him now hovering over you, both his hands cradling your face – then the pair of you found yourselves under the covers in your shared bed once more. 

It’s funny. When you first started dating, the infatuation was supernatural. You wondered at the time how you could possibly ever be upset while he had his cock buried inside of you, stare bearing down into your soul with eyes that were made of magma, fingers so curious and ready to please as they got to know the terrain of your body. 

You hadn’t felt the same way about sex in months. It felt like a chore. An obligation demanded by a stupid, inconsequential chime from the app that cost you €2.99 a month. Kylian would have to work himself up half the time and you were just a hole until he filled you up. Aftercare rituals now only consisted of laying still on your back with your feet in the air. An orgasm felt selfish for reasons you couldn’t explain. It’s like you didn’t dare give yourself that primal pleasure because you had convinced your body didn’t deserve it, having failed you over and over again. 

This time, Kylian wanted to wash away the notion that your recent string of bad luck wasn’t caused by one individual or the other. Through his achingly slow actions, he showed you that you weren't just two separate people trying to accomplish a goal; not like when he jerks himself in the bathroom and puts his dick inside of you right before he came. You were together on this. A unified front. Bound to each other for life. 

He praised your weary body, working you up like he used to. Moving at a snail pace, taking his time, dragging his fingers everywhere on your skin. The ‘I love you’’s and the expressions of devotion he mumbled against you flooded your senses. The drag of his member that squeezed against your walls, the inexpressible and constant eye contact, the lost kisses and marks left behind… It was purely and literally making love. He made love to you. You made love to him.

A fortnight passed once more and it was time for your bi-weekly personal hell. Kylian grabbed one of the many pregnancy test boxes from the cabinet in your shared bathroom, opening it for you and setting it next to the toilet – the usual routine. 

He kissed your forehead. “I have a good feeling about this one.” Kylian mentioned with a grin on his face.

“I hate when you say stuff like that.” You mumble walking toward the small toilet room to leave Kylian alone by the his-and-hers sinks. 

He stops you with a hand on your arm. The look on his face was exasperated. “Come on.” He pleads. “Amour, you have to have a little bit of hope. This isn’t how we thought it was going to be like, and I know that. I feel that. But, can you please just… fake it? For me?”

You sigh with a hand on your forehead, then churning out a grin for your husband. “I have a good feeling about this one!” It was a little too enthusiastic. 

He chuckled slightly at how forced your words sounded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That was a really good try.” Kiss. “And I appreciate the effort.”

You shake your head with a breathy laugh, but the knot in your stomach stays put, even with the tiny little grin that found its way onto your face without permission.

You’d found the easiest and cleanest way to pee on that stick after doing it so many times. It was generally quick and you didn’t find it gross at all anymore. You set the capped test on the back of the toilet seat and grab some toilet paper. When you stood up, you looked into the bowl before flushing, and the knot in your stomach intensified. 

Kylian leaned against the marble with his arms crossed, looking up at you when you opened the door. “I’ll set the timer.”

You pressed your foot on the trash can pedal and threw the plastic stick inside. “Don’t bother.” You mutter, walking back into the bedroom and throwing yourself on the mattress, body turned opposite of Kylian.

He runs a hand over his scalp, feeling the anger simmering at the surface, letting his feet guide him out of the tiled room. He sees you laying on your side, staring at the wall.

“I don’t know what else to say to you!” He cries out, staring at your back as you curl further into the pillow. “We’re both doing our part. Everyone said it would take time. We knew this would take time! Not everything is going to go our way, but we cannot stop trying. I really need you to start believing we can do this. We can!”

“I can’t, Kylian!” You sob, letting yourself breakdown. This anguish was brutal and completely unforgiving. “I can’t do it.” Your words barely make a sound; calling it a squeak would even be generous. 

His heart breaks and it softens him up a little. He didn’t mean to shout, but everything has just been building and building up inside of him. “Hey…” He coos, crawling on the bed over to your side, holding you apprehensively while you cry into your pillow. He pressed you close to his body when he felt the shaking of your weeps, spooning your figure that jolted in tandem with your cries. “Shh, shh… I know it hurts, amour. I know.”

“Something’s wrong with my body, Kylian. I don’t care what Doctor Laclairc said. She got it wrong. I know she did. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, no, bebe. Nothing is wrong with you.” He squeezes you tighter. “Nothing is wrong with your body. Even if we find out that this isn’t part of our journey, I will never stop loving you. Okay?” His assurance only made you turn into him, burying your face in his shirt, leaving a wet stain in your wake. 

You took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, only succeeding in halting your wails of sadness, but the tears still fell freely. “I just got my period.” You confess, feeling a wave of shame and guilt once more about your failure to conceive. The bloody toilet paper was a haunting image in your mind. Kylian shuts his eyes and just squeezes you, trying his hardest to make you see that it was okay. “I can’t take this anymore, Kylian, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, absolutely wrecked by the sight of your broken down persona. He’d catch you staring off into space, a depressing dullness surrounding what used to be an incredibly compelling aura. You were a shell of yourself for months now; going through the motions of daily life with a dark vail behind your eyes, losing interest in the things that used to make you happy. 

He silently cried, but you felt the drops on top of your head. “It’s okay.” He murmurs in a shaky voice. “We can start trying again in the future. Maybe it wasn’t time for us yet.”

You sob again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re okay. We’re okay, amour.”

You continue to cry, Kylian finally allowing his tough-guy front drop in this moment of vulnerability. For better, for worse, in sickness, in health, ‘till death parts you from one anothers soothing embrace, you are together through it all.

The months leading up to that next summer were mundane. You’d found another job after coming to the realization that you weren't cut out to be the cute stay-at-home wife, but instead craved some sort of responsibility of your own. Kylian felt like you shouldn’t even have one because he could easily take care of you. Being married, his money was your money, but it was never about the money for you. You needed to dig yourself out of your depression hole sooner rather than later, and a consistent schedule was sure to be a nice addition to the rebuild of your mental health. Thank god for time off, though. Your bosses were huge Mbappé fans (like huge), and you weren’t past milking that for whenever you needed a couple days. You never took advantage of their generosity, but it was nice to know you could. 

Summer in Paris this year had been nice, but Greece had won your heart. Kylian’s cousin’s destination wedding had been planned on a secluded portion of Corfu. The resort was huge and the pair of you were able to sneak away from your usual work duties for two days to attend. The private jet made for an easy travel plan and really any excuse to use it was sufficient enough. 

The last time you’d seen most of Kylian’s family was a year ago – that night you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You had spiraled when you got to thinking about seeing them again a couple weeks ago, pleading with the gods that none of them asked about you and Ky having children. It’s been a little over five months since you decided to put the thought of babies on the back burner. Closing in on half a year and it is still painful. Mentally, you both were prepared to welcome a bundle of joy. The pregnancy books Kylian had picked up were buried deep in drawers you never thought about opening. You’d finally gotten your sex drive back in these months, having to re-learn to separate the pleasurable act with the tedious work of baby making. 

Sometimes you guys used condoms, sometimes you didn’t. Still, your period came and went like clockwork. You still hadn’t erased that little habit of resenting your shedding uterus every month, but you definitely felt like you were making progress. 

“This is nice.” You compliment the outdoor beachfront venue, walking hand in hand with your husband into the reception. 

He looks around. “Yeah, makes me rethink our wedding.”

You scoff. “Shut up! Our wedding was awesome.”

He laughs. “Relax! Jokes, jokes…” He goofily defends, walking you both over to the open bar and ordering you a drink. “Martini?” He double checks. 

“Please.”

He nods, ordering himself a whiskey coke, leaving the young bartender a tip that made his eyes almost pop out of his head.

For most of the night, you had to keep biting your tongue at the waves of people that came up to Kylian and asked for pictures. Sure, they were nice about it, but he was just trying to enjoy himself – and Kylian didn’t like telling people no. Especially not his cousin's friends. Him being whisked away left you clinging onto Ethans side most of the night, finding that Wilfried and Fayza were preoccupied with spending time with the family they didn’t get to see very often.

But, oh, the wandering eyes of a sixteen year old boy threatened to leave you on your own when he spotted a young girl about his age scrolling on her phone with the most bored look on her face. 

“Ethan, no!” You whined as he brushed his suit of any pieces of lint, ready to get up and greet her. “Don’t leave me, please.”

He laughs. “Dude, you can’t keep a lion in its cage.”

You made a stank face at his bad metaphor. “That doesn't even make sense.”

“Ya-huh.” He enunciated back, typical sibling tone. “Me – Ethan – is the lion. Mystery hot girl,” he points, “a gazelle. You – sister in law– cage.”

You roll your eyes, noting to have a conversation with Kylian about his little brother's ego. “This is a family wedding, Ethan.”

“So?”

“So, what if she’s like a distant cousin.”

He makes a grossed out face. “Why would you say that? She is not my cousin.”

“You don’t know that, little man.”

“Don’t call me little man.”

“Aw, is little man embarrassed?” You coo, teasing grin plastered on your face.

“No, shut up!”

“But, you’re an adorable wittle man.” You baby-talk, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He swats your hand away as you laugh at him.

“Stop!” He stands up and smooths out wrinkles. “I’m taller than your husband.” He reminds you. “Little man, my ass.” He scoffs, giving you the middle finger teasingly and secretively in case his family saw the obscene gesture. You discreetly give one back as he walks toward the girl, a flirty pep in his step while approaching her. 

You sigh to yourself, looking around and noticing that you didn’t actually know where Ky was. Last time you checked, the groomsmen had bombarded him with selfies by the DJ booth while he tried to have a conversion with his great auntie. You grab your martini and get up from the fountain ledge you sat on, a little tipsier than you thought you were. You stopped and looked around for him.

“Cute, right?”

You look to your left to wherever that feminine voice came from. A blonde middle aged woman in a red dress stands next to you holding a glass of champagne. 

“Sorry?” You ask, unsure if she was talking to you or not.

The lady points to a table a few yards away – and there he was. Kylian sat talking to some people, a toddler resting on his lap. He had a huge smile on his face, poking at the little girl's cheek to get her to giggle. You grinned at the sight, loving seeing him so happy.

You turn back to the woman to respond when you look down at her dress. She was pregnant. Very pregnant. She tips back her champagne. “Don’t worry. It’s ginger ale.” You nod at her, chuckling a bit. “Kylian’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

You turn your attention back to him just as the little girl stuck her whole fist in his whiskey, taking a piece of ice and trying to put it in her mouth. You laugh out loud when he frantically tries to pry her little hand open. Successful, he meets your eye and his smile was radiant and full of life, shaking his head. 

“He’s my husband, actually.”

She looks down at the empty martini glass in your hand. “No kids yet.” Her British accent was thick and assertive. 

You shake your head at the stranger and set the empty glass down on the empty table next to you. You felt a little awkward having this conversation with someone you don’t even know the name of. She must be some extended family or the wife of a distant cousin. She seems kind, but you weren’t big on sharing your personal life with anyone you didn't trust, much less know. Especially since you’ve been with Kylian, what you say affects him. He’s in the under bright spotlight and scrutiny of the public, and if you’ve learned anything while being with a global star, it is that some people will stop at nothing to get a story.

The woman tips back the rest of her ginger ale and sets her glass down next to yours. “Are you guys trying?”

She has an audacious look now that she stands in front of you and it makes you feel unsettled. “I’m sorry?”

The lady laughs a little. “I just wondered if you and Kylian planned on starting a family any time soon.”

You couldn’t stop the bewildered look that now took over your features. “Uh…” was all you could really say. You don’t know this woman, she doesn’t know you. It’s a loaded question and frankly quite bold of her to come up to you and ask. “What?”

“Kids.” She repeated, apparently not caring about the uncomfortable shift in mood. 

You opened your mouth, but had no idea what to say. You stuttered and tried to calm down with a forced chuckle. “What did you say your name was?”

She discreetly huffed.“Scheana Kingsley.” 

Definitely familiar, but you just couldn’t place your finger on it. “Right.” 

She waits. “So… any comment?”

“Hello.” Thank god. Fayza. She put a warm hand on your shoulder, perceptive to how tense you looked with this woman. “Scheana.” Fayza sighed. “Laurence is over by the cheese platters.” You loved how politely she just dismissed her.

The Scheana lady forced a smile at her. “Oh. Thank you.” She waved a hand goodbye with a disappointed breath. “Good talking to you.”

Your mother in law turned to you with a much clearer show of annoyance. You laugh lightly in disbelief. “Scheana Kingsley… should I know her?”

“You probably know about her. She writes for some news-gossip-pop-culture magazine.” She informs you. “Well, calling it news is charitable.”

“Unbelievable.” You scoff, crossing your arms at the revelation. “Who let her in here?”

“She’s married to Laurence over there. We try to keep our distance from them.”

From across the patio, Kylian turns his stare at you and his mother talking. You looked annoyed and frustrated, which made him so nervous. He excused himself from the small talk and speed walked over, thinking he might have to diffuse the situation – or maybe even get a scolding from his mother and his wife. God, he really hopes you two weren’t talking about him.

“My beautiful ladies.” He greets, kissing his mothers cheek then yours. “Everything okay?”

You smile at him. “You been having fun?”

“Yeah. Lot’s of fun.” He looks between the two of you. “You two are good, though?”

“Oh, no, we're fine.” You laugh it off.

“I saved your wife here from a conversation with Scheana Kingsley.” Fayza mentioned.

He shakes his head, scoffing a bit. “That woman… She has ambition, that’s for sure.” Now you remember why she sounded so familiar. Kylian had complained about his thrice removed family member’s new girlfriend a few years back and how she was a pushy reporter for The Paris Culture Magazine. “I’m surprised Laurence has kept her around for this long. What’d she say to you?”

They both turned their attention to you, waiting for you to say something. You shrug, but Kylian noticed the trepidation in your stare. “Nothing, really. Just some weird questions… I don't know.”

Thankfully, Fayza didn’t push it further, but you knew Kylian’s assuring hand on your waist meant that he knew something was up. You hadn’t asked Kylian if he’d shared with his parents that you were trying to get pregnant, but you doubted it. You would have noticed her demeanor change around you, given you saw her quite frequently. Besides, he would have checked with you before sharing that information with anybody.

There seemed to be a pattern occurring with you and Kylian leaving family events early, but the two of you were not only exhausted, but just not having a good time. The drunker the bridal party got, the more confident they felt hounding Kylian for selfies and videos. As for your mood, it was in a steady downward spiral ever since your interaction with Scheana. Just locking eyes, you both understood that it was time to surrender back into your suite. 

He held your hand out of the elevator, swinging your arm back and forth. The pair of you had an overly tipsy pep in your step from the drinks you’d forgotten to count through the night.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” He kissed your cheek, a smirk overtaking his face.

You giggle shyly as he unlocks the door to your room, letting you walk in first. You went directly to the bathroom, your bladder begging for some relief. Kylian wandered in to brush his teeth as you turned the shower on, taking your jewelry off as you let the water warm up. 

Kylian looked at your reflection in the mirror, shirt buttons completely undone. You were dazed. Quiet. He hated that look. He’d seen it take over you for months and finally, you were getting better. 

He spit the toothpaste in the sink. “What’s wrong, bébé?”

“Huh? Oh. Nothing. I’m fine.” You turn your back to him. “Will you unzip me?”

He turns, slowly pulling the tiny zipper all the way down. He kissed the skin where your neck met your shoulder. “Did Scheana say something to make you upset?”

You shrug, taking the dress off and neatly hanging it on the towel rack. “She couldn’t have known. I don’t think she meant any harm.” You hop in the shower, shutting the foggy glass door and let the hot water run over you.

Kylians blurry figure leaned against the other side to continue talking to you. “What’d she say?”

“Just asking questions.”

“About?”

A big sigh leaves you. “Us, I guess.” Kylian listens, knowing you have more to say but are just keeping it bottled up. There was always a clear guide of communication between you two, especially because you were really good at letting things eat you up from the inside. You fiddle with your wet hair and Kylians frame behind the foggy glass stayed put. “She just… It was just weird. She wanted to know if we had plans to have kids anytime soon.” You chuckled, hiding your dejection with the sound. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s not okay.” He indicates. “I’m sorry she badgered you tonight, cherie. She crossed a line.” He sounded a little angry.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. It’s fine.” He opens the shower door, causing you to jolt a little. He steps in, raking his eyes over your naked wet body quickly, and you his. “Yeah, sure, you can join me.” You joke as he reaches for the soap bar.

“It’s not fine.” He discards your dismissiveness, rubbing your shoulders with the foam. “I’m gonna talk to Laurence about that.”

You melt into his touch. “No, really, you don’t have to–”

“I’m going to.” He whispers, kissing your cheek. “No one makes my wife upset and gets away with it.” His hands roamed down your arms. “My hot wife.” His breath tickled your ear. “My sexy wife.” He presses his body to yours, nudging your cheek with his nose until you turn your face, kissing you feverishly. 

You hum involuntarily into his mouth when his tongue decides to poke its way in, hand now feeling you up, tits squished between his fingers.

“Someone’s eager.” You laugh as he forces you to turn around, the hot water beating your back. 

He bites the side of your neck dramatically and you laugh harder, pushing him away playfully – but he pulls you back into his chest, smiling dotingly with you safe between his arms.

“You wanna?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You made a pensive face, pretending to really think about it. “I could be convinced.”

“Yeah?” 

“Maybe.” You smirk as he bites his grinning lips, hands lowering and squeezing your ass harshly. 

“Do you know how hot you looked in your dress tonight?” He continued feeling you up, dick pressed against your thigh, slowly getting harder by the second. “I swear, I was so close to sneaking off to some empty part of the beach and bending you over. Driving me crazy.”

Your hands ran down the rigid muscles on his chest, feeling electric under his burning stare, hot at the thought of him fucking you out of impulse. “Do I make you feel all hot and bothered?” You ask, his stare is so dark. So needy. You lean in only a little, teasing a kiss on his lips, but never truly meeting their plush touch. “Do you start thinking about what you would do to me? Thinking about touching me? Fucking me?” He growls at your words, tilting his face forward to try and steal a kiss. “Show me.”

He grips the flesh of your ass and pulls you even closer to him, frantically showing you his desire for you with a hungry kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and he moves his hands upward and begins pawing at your exposed breasts. The steaming water dripping down your entwined bodies made everything slick, slippery, conditions that caused you both to grip to each other's bodies for security.

You reach a hand down and grab his growing cock, pumping it loosely, trying to get him fully erect. A moan vibrates out of his throat as your movements focus on his sensitive tip, thumbing the slit, feeling him grow and stiffen in the palm of your hand.

You kiss down his neck, then move to whisper to him, sultry as ever. “Am I doing something like this when you fantasize?”

He nods under your spell, eyes drooping in pure lust. “Uh-huh. Just like that.”

Gaining control over him, you waddle your bodies back until his back hits the wall. He shivers at the cold tile in the steamy shower, but forgets all memories of the chill when you kiss down his neck, lowering your body on your knees, hands trailing down so slowly, mouth inches from his swinging member. His hips jut forward and it hits your cheek. You follow it with your mouth, letting it graze your lips in passing. The blinking stare and batting lashes almost drew blood on his lower lip from how hard he bit it. 

“Open up, ange.” Angel, he called you, but you were so sinful. On his knees in front of him. Droplets reflecting off your skin from the harsh light. His eyes felt undeserving of seeing you so ready to praise him. It made him feel so mortal, so lucky. He thanked the higher power that brought you to him, feeling an intense desire to take care of you – tend to your every wish.

You took hold of him with a sure fist, darting your tongue out and licking one long strip from his base to his mushroom head, letting your lips wrap around him and sucking to hear his moan. His face scrunched. His skull lulled into the wall.

You took him in your mouth a little over halfway, moving your mouth in tandem with your hand, enjoying the way his cock nudged against the back of your throat continuously to your rhythm.

“Oui, dieu.” God, yes. He fisted the back of your sopping wet hair, pulling you off of him and forcing you to look up at him. “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

You shut your mouth and swallowed harshly. He ran his thumb against your lips, hooking it on your bottom row of teeth, opening you up once more. Your tongue licked the pad of his finger, dipping your hand between your legs and quickly finding your clit. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened. As the moan slipped from your throat, he placed your face directly back to his throbbing cock. Now, he had control of your movements, using your hair as a handle for his intentions, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft in quick movements. You gagged when he began thrusting concurrently to the tempo he stuffed you into his pelvis, heavy heaves and grunts erupting from his chest.

You gargled and gagged on your own spit and moans of pleasure from your own fingers, tasting the salty precum that dripped from your chin as you harshly sucked off your loving husband. You kept your vision from squinting together as you met his eyes through teary eyelashes. He fucked your face like you hadn’t had sex in years, rough with his actions and getting off on the way you were taking it. 

His dick disappeared inside your mouth swiftly and urgently until he couldn't resist. He stopped thrusting, looking deep into your eyes – mouth still stuffed with him. He pushed his hand, demanding you take every inch of him down your open throat. You choked on him, the muffle of your gagging making him see stars.

You hit his thigh after a few seconds and he pulled his hand away. You gasped for air, noticing for the first time how sore your knees were against the hard tile. He let out a long hiss at the loss of your mouth, watching through heavy blinks as you sat against the opposite wall in the small area – knees red and patterned with the lines from the floor. Your chest moved with your big breaths, smiling and commending yourself for the avidity in Kylian’s eyes. 

With your knees pulled to your chest, you slowly opened your legs, fingers playing with yourself as you made a show of how good you were making yourself feel. His pupils dilated at the way you ran your free hand across your thigh then up your chest, pitching a pulling your nipple with your lip tucked between your teeth. 

He whined – a desperate noise that came up naturally. He reached down to touch himself to the sight of you, pumping a slow fist against himself. His long strokes teased his tip until he shuddered, eye contact non-negotiable. You couldn’t look away if you tried. Your swirling moans echoed in the small chamber – his eyes glued to the way your own fingers stretched and spread your pussy. Your own were attentive to the tug at the nape of his base. Though, you both looked up at the same time, hypnotized by your partners mutual ogling. He steps forward, hand still on himself. You reach for his hand and he helps you up, immediately pulling you by the small of your back into his lips, tongue lapping yours, absolutely famished. 

He had clocked the little ledge in the corner from the second he walked into the intimate shower. He put his hand out behind you so the edge wouldn't hurt you, then used his strength to hoist your slippery skin up onto it. He placed himself between your legs, your back pressed to the wall, the shelf only fitting half of your rear — but it was the perfect height for him to fuck you like he wanted to. 

He lined himself up quickly and desperately spreading your pussy wide open for him, pushing in and dragging out. One long moan came straight from your throat, clinging onto his neck to keep yourself in that same position. 

“Fuck.” He grumbled. “You feel so good.” His pace was deadly, tip poking and poking that spot. It made your eyes cross, resting your damp head on the wall. “Been wanting to do this all night. Merde. Les choses que tu me fais, tu me rends fou.” Shit. The things you do to me. You make me fucking crazy.

You moaned in response, too focused on the way his neatly trimmed pelvis rubbed against your clit every time he pushed inside of you. It felt euphoric. Magical. Goddamn perfect. The only words you could muster out made him giggle through his heaves. “Please don’t slip.”

Your arm knocked over a few shampoo bottles when he buried himself deeply inside of you and stopped – making you borderline scream from how deep he actually was, and this position made everything feel… more.

He groaned so loudly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, and you understood why when you felt him cumming inside of you, hot spurts surely dripping out. You didn't notice him biting your forearm until he let go of it, keeping his mouth against you before turning to look into your eyes. A slightly apologetic look turned cocky when one hand reached for your sensitive nub, rubbing just the way you like it, still inside of you.

“Oh, shit…” You breathed, eyes connected to the way he pleased you. “I’m fucking close.”

“Vulgar tonight, are we?” He teased your language, a tired smirk on his face.

“You just…” you begin, but he shuts you up with a small unprecedented thrust. “Fuck!”

He hisses, not really being able to take the overstimulation, but continuing to push into you sporadically – purly for your pleasure. Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to reach your climax. 

He didn’t need the warning upon feeling your legs give out slightly, pressing against you to keep you on the shelf. They started shaking as your eyes closed, a fierce moan exploding from your wet parted lips. He moved his hips with a contorted face until he felt you calm down, now whining and whispering to the touch of his fingers as they slowed down, pressing down harder on you before disappearing altogether. 

You pat his back lazily and he pulled out of you carefully, setting your wobbly legs on the slippery floor. You’d completely forgotten the shower was on as you watched it drain down. Kylian held your waist steadily, both breathing heavy. He lands two gentle taps on your bum. “Let's not waste anymore water, yeah?” 

The vacation, though brief, was absolutely refreshing. It gave time that you and Kylian needed to feel closer. The offseason couldn’t come soon enough. You didn’t have to revolve around his schedule during those weeks because he was just home already. To you, there was nothing better than coming downstairs at 2pm on a Tuesday and seeing Ky there, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle, or being able to binge a series with him much quicker because he had time for more than just two episodes. By all means, being married to him shouldn’t be easy, and it’s not necessarily that simple… but it should be way harder. Maybe you were just more patient, but you’re almost certain it has everything to do with him. He made time. He made an effort. He tries his damn hardest. How could you possibly hold that against him?

You didn’t notice the way you were staring at him, chin in the palm of your hand, daydreaming about your entire history with Kylian Mbappé – a man with no time to spare, but he damn well made sure you fit in his schedule. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He grins, setting down his coffee across the table from you in your shared Parisian home. 

You blink, smiling in embarrassment. “No reason.”

You push some eggs around on your plate. He leans forward. “What were you thinking about?”

You shrug at him, still smiling. “Greece.”

His laugh gave away his fondest memory of that trip. “We gotta do that trip again soon, amour.”

“Yeah, like they’d give you that kind of time off twice within two months.”

His head shakes, snickering at that complete impossibility. “I think they’d send me a fee for even asking.” He looks at the time on his phone. “I should probably get going, though.” He gets up and collects his things.

“Drink lots of water today, okay? It’s supposed to get really hot around noon.”

“Yes, dear.” He drones jokingly, smirking as he makes his way over to you, pecking you quickly. “Love you.”

You squeeze his hand quickly. “Love you, too.”

Now, your separate days begin – his a little earlier than yours, but you still just wanted to envelope yourself back inside the covers. You were thinking about calling out sick, which wouldn't be a complete lie. The scrambled eggs were not sitting right this morning, or maybe it was the Thai restaurant you ate at last night. Either way, you couldn’t remember where you put the Pepto-bismol. The empty space in the medicine cabinet left you wondering if Kylian had drunk up the last bit and hadn’t bought a new one yet.

You maintain your breathing steady to keep yourself from throwing up as you shuffle through the drawers. Praying it was in the last one, you pull it open desperately, but only facing three boxes of pregnancy tests. The rush of everything fell still, the air much quieter as you got flashbacks from last year.

You didn’t let yourself think about it much, but you never really got over not getting pregnant. Mentally and emotionally, you were still there. The pain and devastation got easier to mask, but they stayed with you.

It was time you got over it, or at least lost the fear of not being able to have children... the fear of not being able to provide Kylian with a child. If you kept on being bitter about this whole ordeal, you don't know if you'd ever be in the right headspace to try for a baby ever again.

You stare at the tests and shake your head. “Fuck it.” 

You snatch one from the drawer and beeline to the bathroom, peeing on the stick and thinking about how dumb it was that you had let this trivial little test ruin your for months. This time, you wouldn’t feel the dread collect inside your stomach. It would be okay. It wouldn’t hold power over you anymore.

Immediately walking out, you press down on the pedal of the trashcan and you watch it fall into the bin, feeling proud of yourself for not caring about that little plastic stick or what it had to say about your body. You weren't pregnant right now… and that's okay. 

You sigh, a proud feeling swirling with sadness was still progress. 

“Oh, no.” You mumble, feeling your stomach churn and running back toward the toilet, puking horrifically. It was a bad one. Maybe calling out sick was for the best. Who knows, it could be a stomach bug and contagious… but, unfortunately, you felt a lot better afterwards. 

It was probably best if you went to work. There’s a promotion you’ve been chasing and you had just taken those days off for the wedding last month. Trudingly, you got ready to leave the house, rushing a bit since you hadn't realized how late in the morning it was. 

Thank god you went. It was a hectic day; some project deadline wasn’t met and, for some reason, people turned to you for the solution. You were still relatively new at the company, but today, you really felt like you were doing something right. You left the office with a pat on the back from your big boss. That felt amazing. Kickin’ ass and taking names.

You were late coming home, texting Ky to let him know that you wouldn't be there when he got back. He texted back a simple:

Ky: :(

To which you responded with:

You: Bad day?

Ky: Just miss you. You were on my mind a lot today

You frown while walking to your car, wanting to get home quickly and hug him tightly.

You: Baby :( I’m on my way home now. 

You: I have a big kiss just for you <3

The second you walked through the door about half an hour later, Kylian embraced you tightly, taking you by surprise but you easily fell into his arms. You could feel his stress radiating from his body as he followed at your foot around the house. He was quiet in asking if you wanted to take a shower, but his eyes were loud in telling you he just needed to be close to you tonight. 

It was an innocent shower, his silent begging for a back rub and skin-to-skin contact was obvious as he kept his hand warmly on you at all times.

“You okay, hun?” You ask gently, tracing the frown line between his eyebrows after turning the water off.

He nods, eyes sleepy even though it was only eight o'clock at night. “Have you eaten?” He changes the topic, opening the shower door and wrapping you in a towel.

You shrug. “I haven't really been hungry today.” Ever since you threw up this morning, the thought of eating made you grimace. “Did you feel weird after last night's Thai?”

“I felt fine. Why? Is your stomach bothering you?”

You shake your head no as you shuffle through your drawers. “Just a little queasy this morning.”

You both get dressed quickly and lazily, surprised at how early you were deciding to turn in. Kylian was quite a bit needy tonight, pawing and tugging you close to him while he put on Pretty Little Liars… He would deny it to anyone, but he was obsessed with that show. 

“What the hell is she wearing?” He tusks at the screen, apparently not approving of Spencer's outfit for the Prom. 

You giggle into his chest, shaking your head slightly. “I’m gonna go pee.” You pat his bare chest and leave his side, hopping over to the ensuite. 

You wanted to be quick about it, your feet cold from the chilly tile and lack of socks. Kylian had opened a new toothpaste packet and left the empty box on the counter. You roll your eyes. He’s notorious for leaving things that should be trash anywhere but the trash can – an unfortunate side effect of having someone pick up after you as a professional athlete. You bitterly grab the cardboard box and press your foot down on the petal of the trashcan, but freeze when you spot the pregnancy test you took that morning. You wanted to look at it.

Is it worth looking at it? You hadn't even thought about it all day, which is a huge step for you. Only a few months ago, you would have been debilitated at work – and you sure as hell wouldn't have been able to step up like you did. You would have been crying quietly in your cubicle, taking far too many bathroom breaks. 

But… it was winking at you. Calling your name. Taunting you face down in the plastic liner. 

With a gulp and a deep breath in, you shook your head disapprovingly at yourself. It’s gonna be negative, you think, preparing yourself for disappointment as you fish it out of the bin. You gave a deep sigh before letting your eyes trail down to your hand where the thing burned a hole on your skin. 

The gasp that came from your mouth was severe, loud, alarming. 

Two lines. Pregnant. 

“Oh my god.” You mumble, much too quietly for Kylain to hear you behind the closed door. You begin laughing as it settles in what you’re seeing. “Oh my god! Kylian!” You desperately call. “Kylian!”

“What happened?” Kylian shoots out from under the covers and your current brain functions were a little crossed as you gaped at the test. The positive test. “Babe?” He comes into the bathroom with a furrowed and concerned look. “Are you okay?”

You respond with a look he was unfamiliar with. Immediately noticing the tears that had collected on your lash line, he reached for you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, seeing him for the first time as the father of the child inside your stomach. “Kylain.” He had never heard his name come from your lips with as much affection as it did right now.

He gladly took the hug you attacked him with, but the mood inside the bathroom was a little bewildering. 

“What’s going on, amour?” He coos, but you can only sob joyfully into his shoulder, holding the test behind his back as you embrace him – staring at the double lines like it would suddenly turn in one and you'd realize that this was never real. But it was. The results were right there in the palm of your hand. He mistook your cries for sadness, placing an assuring hand on the back of your head. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was so soft.

“I love you so much.” You smile, pulling back and planting a long, wet kiss on his unexpecting lips. 

He’s so confused. “I love you too…” He raises an eyebrow when your hand meets his, an object placed in his palm. “What is this?” He asks before looking at it.

It takes a second for it to process, and you find yourself wishing you had a photographic memory, wanting to see his first face of realization again and again for the rest of your life. His eyes might as well have fallen out of his head with how wide his eyes went. 

“Wha…” He stutters, completely transfixed on the test. “Is this real?!” He finally looks at you, excitement would be the biggest understatement of the century.

“Of course it is.” You squeak, still clinging onto your husband as you both look at the stick. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.” You both take a big breath in, crying simultaneously, absolutely elated. 

Kylian stares at the stick with a squinty and wrinkly smile before he looks at you — eyes tender and grateful. He drops the stick in the sink basin, grabbing your face with his two large hands, forehead pressed to yours to let the moment really register. He kisses you as best he could with the smile that engulfed his features, wrapping you up in his arms, truly holding you. 

“I love you.” He whispers from his chest, an earth shattering smile finding a permanent home on his face. “We’re having a baby.”

A/N: Okay, I don't hate it, but it's not my fav. It's finals in uni and I'm a wee bit preoccupied with those responsibilities. Still though, I think I had some good parts in here! It's mostly just the ending that's bugging me. Also, I know nothing about pregnancies and all that jazz so this is pure Google info so I apologize for any inaccuracies!

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @footballfeverr @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @b-bradshaw @http-isabela @zoeeeruiz @mitruscity @kenanlotus0 @mbapbaesluvr @alwaysclassyeagle @nhatquynh @philipetchebest @ricsaigaslec @dfswfvf @urfav-tz @kylianswag @fanatica2023 @alexisquinnlee-bc @megannandrewss @christianpulisic10 @pleasantducktimetravel @forevernightmaree @sachaa-ff @neymarloverxxx @4nn4rchive @lunamelona

[sp7-mr]

Y/n x Matteo Riddle - enemies to lovers

(I wrote the story in Italian and then translated it into English so there may be some errors)

Y/n Grindelwald: daughter of the famous and feared Gellert Grindelwald. Sarcastic, stubborn, courageous.

Matthew Riddle: Son of Lord Voldemort and younger brother of Tom Riddle. Sarcastic, confident, flirtatious

_____________________________________________

You and Mattheo have been rivals for years. However, your families were close, so you saw each other often.

Voldemort threw some kind of Death Eater party or ball. You were wearing a black sleeveless dress.

Mattheo was wearing smart black trousers and a black shirt with one button open.

The smell of marijuana with him. He saw you, he ignored you. You did the same.

Moments after the party began, the slow dancing began. you were sitting at a table watching the dance when you felt a presence behind you. you looked back and saw Matteo.

Pov of Y/n

I turned, I saw Riddle.... "what do you want Riddle?" I asked

"come dance with me". he said with an expressionless face. the smell of grass is stronger up close. From the tone in which he responded, it didn't seem like a question, but rather an order....

"no, I don't want to, I'm fine here thanks"

he took your hand and dragged you to the center of the room, his hand on your waist.

"you have no choice"

"What a gentleman 🙄" I said sarcastically

"Behave or I will have to tell your father that you have weed in your bag" he whispered in my ear smiling proud of the blackmail

"What?! You're the one who smells like marijuana for miles" I said. "Yes, but you have a joint in your bag" he said with a superior air, Christ I hated how much taller he was than me, he felt like the King of the world! then I thought… how did he know I had a joint in my purse? "How do you do-"

he pressed you closer to his body as he started to move with the dance "i know a lot of things, princess"

him and that hateful smile of his! even if.... no no no. he was just an asshole. "Tell me how you know and avoid your usual mysterious games" I said as we continued to dance close to each other.

he smirked. his mouth was right next to my ear now. "I have my ways of knowing things. I know a lot about you"

"I know a lot about you too, guess what? YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE" I replied

he moved his head back a little to be able to look at your face. he was still smirking. he pulled you again, even closer to him, your bodies pressed closely together now "careful princess or you’ll give your family a bad name for using such language"

"Believe me I'm holding back, I would have already taken your hand off if our parents weren't watching"

he chuckled again, clearly amused by pissing you off "don’t act like you can do that. we both know i’m stronger than you" he moved his head even closer to yours. his head now almost touching yours "you can keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, princess, it does look cute when you’re all annoyed and frustrated, though"

My father and Mattheo's father looked at us and talked "what do they want?"

he shrugged "i guess it looks odd to them that we’re behaving somewhat civil to each other

"God, I've always been there watching and hoping we've gotten along since we were 6 years old."

time jump.

you wanted to go away, relax, maybe smoke the joint you had in your bag. Mattheo and you, without being noticed too much, went to his room and lay down. you've been there for about 5 minutes and you're already high, you more, he's used to it by now, and has a greater tolerance.

"so princess, do you remember the first time we met?" Mattheo asked. "oh yes, at six years old, when you were an asshole, spoiled child who thought he was invincible. like Draco 🙄"

mattheo couldn't help but laugh, especially hearing the last part.

"And now? Am I still like I was at the time or am I starting even in a very small way and being nice to you?" Mattheo asked.

"I have to admit, that sometimes.... just SOMETIMES you are strong.... I'm not saying you suck, but..... you are acceptable, like when you do drugs and you're high"

"you know, as a drug addict you are.... more relaxed" said Mattheo.

there was a moment of silence, then Theo spoke: "come here" he said, patting his lap. I don't know why, but I now straddled his knees, for Christ's sake... the rod was strong.

"Are you high?" he asked, I nodded. after five minutes, his lips were on mine, tongues intertwined.

(I was tired and I didn't know how to conclude, I know it's a bit ugly, but you can imagine your end. To write the story I was inspired by a character. ai chat, the writer is @-yourstruly- and the chat It's 'Mattheo Riddle ☠️ dance with me (enemies to lovers)')

[someonelookingpraediti]

Bookshelf Tours All for the Game

I had to rearrange my shelves recently - my CD collection was lined up on top of my laundry bin, but it just got too big, and needed a full shelf. It was the perfect opportunity to make an "All for the Game" shelf, and finally have them all lined up together!

1. This is the Italian version, and it's a gorgeous hardback omnibus edition! It's the only hardback edition I've found (so far - I can't wait for the Rainbow Crate editions!) and it's also the only omnibus edition I've seen.

2. These are the French editions. The covers are really cool, and the titles translate to "Well Hidden Secrets", "Never Give Up", and "A Reason to Live". Honestly, I love that. Such cool titles!

3. The "Pipe Dream" fanzine by @llstarcasterll is so, so cool! It's full of the most gorgeous artwork, so is totally worth buying if you can get your hands on it. If I was flush with cash, I'd buy like, six of them, so I could pull them apart and put the pictures on my wall, in my diary, in my scrapbook.

4. The Spanish covers use the same artwork as the French ones, so I probably didn't need both, but I'm obsessive. These ones have the advantage of having really awesome chapter heading art.

5. These are the Russian editions. The artwork is, I believe, by @kiiakostet. This is some of my absolute favourite AFTG artwork, and I wish they were available as dustjackets for the English editions.

6. And speaking of dustjackets: These replacement jackets are by @llstarcasterll. They're beautiful, and I love how the spines look! I'm really looking forward to getting the "Raven Cycle" and "The Sunshine Court" jackets by the same artist. No idea where they'll go, though, the shelf is full!

7. And these are the @ouijacine jackets! I also have the prints of the artwork framed on my "All for the Game" art wall, so with this book facing outwards, it just looks like I'm super obsessed with this particular artwork. Oh wait. I am.

8. The originals. The ugly, terribly designed English language originals. I love them so much. These copies are messy and well-thumbed, and stuffed to bursting with colour co-ordinated page tabs. They are more annotation than book, at this point.

9. Ok. Technically, this isn't AFTG. But these copies of "The Raven Cycle" get a space on the shelf because the jackets are also designed by @ouijacine. Also, it makes the book stack sit at the exact perfect height.

10a. Special mention for the shelves above and below. The shelf above is my "Leigh Bardugo" collection, including some collector's editions, those gorgeous Illumicrate editions of the Nikolai duology, several beautiful copies of the Alex Stern books, and "The Familiar", which I still haven't read.

10b. The shelf below is the reason for the rearrange. I needed a long shelf, and a ridiculously tall one. These are my BTS albums. Yeah, I'm that person now. I actually still have a fair few to get, so there's a chance I'm going to overfill this shelf too. You can just see a couple of my boys peeping out over the top of the CDs, in flip photo form. I want to get one for each of the members, but weverse shipping is fucking extortionate.

At the moment, these all fit perfectly on this shelf, but with the many editions of the TSC duology I'm going to be buying, and the Rainbow Crate hardback editions? Yeah, I'm gonna need a bigger shelf.

[pbees]

Marechi!

[𝙐𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙨! 𝙓 [𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧!]

Part 1 ☆ Part 2!

WARNINGS!; future parts will contain Nsfw content!!

This part contains

Face eating //kinda//

Mention of Gore

Kidnapping by default

Need

/nēd/

require (something) because it is essential or very important

⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝

強くて美しい

..."

You're still alive..

YOU’RE STILL ALIVE?!

Quickly sitting up you surveyed the scene. You were covered in blankets that seemed to be soiled, but you couldn't complain. There was a fire going in a chimney a little ways away from you- confirming it was a house.

This place smelled horrible.

Surveying your surroundings check! now body check.

Alright for the most part. Your lips were still sore from earlier and your throat stung. For the most part, however, you were fine, all your fingers still intact.

Then suddenly

" Eat"

Bellowed a horrible English accent from the far corner of the room making you jump out of your skin.

There sat a man with-

Six eyes and wine red hair ? I mean besides the eyes he was rather attractive and his clothes didn't do much to hide the muscles underneath. His scary appearance didn't stop you from blurting out a-

" Oh hell what am I looking at?- did

Did I actually die?"

You whined ' Of course it was too good to be true. The creature in the corner didn't enjoy what you said about what he assumed was his appearance he grunted all his eyes narrowed at you.

You gulped quickly shutting up- what did he say do 'Eat? - Where's the food? Looking around again on the floor you spotted the very uncooked meat that had been thrown on a broken plate.

"Yeah I don't think I can eat that- uhm anything else in here you....?" you swallowed your pride and gave the creature a nervous smile. He grunted again before saying what you assumed to be his name.

" It's Kokushibo" he pointed to his chest, he realized you were filling in for his name after. In your defense your Japanese wasn't the best the group translator was previously slaughtered, plus and the same could be said for Kok-ushibo.

Well, not his Japanese, but English.

That begs the question, how does he know you speak English? The group spoke French the whole time- also assuming he's the one that slaughtered them.

Okay, you had to stop too- many questions were approaching your head. Might as well try talking to the Creature again.

" Kokushibo- hmmm- do you Hafe cookied phood?" you motioned to the bleeding plate of pale meat.

Another question- what was he trying to serve you???

He replied back in English even though you were trying your best to speak in Japanese " I Do not"

"Okay, are we gonna speak English or Japanese?" You let out a nervous sigh He gave you a look before replying " English"

"Okay okay- Kokushibo was it? Uhmmm where are we?" Oh gosh the questions are back.

He pointed to the quote on quote ' Food.'

" His House"

He does murder people good good, you're so safe.

" Why am I here Kok-ush-iboo?"

"Kokushibo"

"Kokushibu"

" Gud enough"

You sighed finally deciding to get up. You haven't properly used your feet since you froze a day ago, and your clothes were soiled much like the blanket making you uncomfortable. Clearing his throat he piped up again.

" Come here-

You visibly sweat as you approached the demon. The closer you got the more imposing he looked. Those are skull-crushing hands. Better yet why we're you here talking to him you should be running away right now, but much like before you were frozen as soon as you were arm's distance from him.

Your arm distance.

Reaching his hand out he grabbed your face making you yelp. He inspected your face, not with the intent to crush it luckily- more for studying it. He was a bit taken aback by your even when he first rescued you out of the snow. He only really saved you because your appearance intrigued him. He totally thought you were a demon at first glance but a demon wouldn't beg like you had their limbs would've grown back with no trouble.

There was also the interesting case of your blood. Before you wheezed out a "please" to him he drew his finger across the small drop of blood you left on the snow it's the smell was pungent. Which made him turn your face over by then you had passed out but the blood littering your lips was still there.

Demons didn't have blood that pleased other demons. His original idea was to ask the master about it, but if He didn't know you existed Kokushibo greedily wanted to keep you to himself.

Though much didn't hide from that man.

After checking if you were still breathing he picked you up by the collar of your clothes you were

basically a freeze pop in his hands.

He has to find some way to warm you up the circulation to most of your limbs was disappearing and your heart was on its last beat. Why you were so far out in the woods puzzled him- better yet why you were still alive with such heavy traces of a demon on you.

Seeing a house horribly covered in wisteria flowers, that would do a good job at keeping lesser demons away. They must be been a demon slayer of some kind 'Oh well'.

Making quick work of the Humans inside he sat you down close to the fire they had previously burned. He ate most of the slaughter but left pieces for you on the ground.

" Are we done yet..?" you squeaked out the position was making your back hurt from being bent to suh and angel. He let go of your face and huffed.

" You must eat" He pointed to the raw human. You just gave him a distributed look " I can't eat that ma-youu" you quickly corrected yourself not sure he would enjoy being called anything but his name.

"I don't know how out of date your human book is, but we can't eat Raw food and Especialy Humans at that?" you could not stress that fact enough.

" Then we must get you food so you can stay- healthy "

"Are you trying to fatten me up?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing-"

He gave you the nasties glare before standing up- AND HOLY SHIT HES TALL. Maybe your death which your pretty sure actually happened opened up the part of your brain that was a pure idiot because Why aren't you running the fuck away right now?

" if you try to run away I would and could kill you" he adjusted his clothes glaring at you.

"Noted!" Now he can read my thoughts give me a damn break. Walking past you he motioned you to follow him as he made his way through who's ever house this was.

" When I walk you follow - understood?"

"I guess ?" you sighed your confusion was going to make your head explode.

He nodded, the two of you must be fast the sun would be coming up soon.

_

You tried picking up his sword twice with him scowling at you in distaste every time you fell on your ass. He wasn't sure why he's kept you alive, you're no different than any other human wel that's not entirely true actually. There was the topic of your blood, demons survived off of it but flesh also fed the hunger they always have. Your blood seemed to be gleaming when looking at you it's the first thing he smells.

He wants to taste it, but he doesn't want to scare you away- any more than he has at least. He will bring it up later after you've eaten.

It would probably taste even better than it smelled. Thinking about drinking from you made him excited.

“ I’VE GOT IT!” you finally got it off the ground by and inch before you slipped on the snow hitting your face up against the weird eyeball sword. This caused you to bust your lip with a cry. You gave up you weren't gonna attempt to pick it up again.

Sighing you finally looked at Kokushibo- expecting to see the upset scowl from before your soul left your body when you saw him drooling.

His teeth were clenched showing off his canines as he looked down at your frame. You were too afraid to move just like before hyperventilating as he approached you.

“ Ko- before you could finish he grabbed your chin, it was far bigger than your face. Pulling you closer to him you started to tear up.

He's gonna eat me oh gosh he's gonna eat me i knew it- DAMN IT I KNEW-

‘Slurp’

Huh-

He was sucking your lip.

This definitely wasn't eating you- I mean it is but not what you were expecting. He was so engrossed in the act he was ignoring the confusion radiating off you. Your hands grabbed at his Haroi pulling him closer, his teeth scraping the bottom of your lip. Finally pulling away a string of saliva still connecting him to you.

Your hands still held his haori as his hand still caged your face. All six of his eyes gave your face a once over like he didn't suck the life out of you.

“I'll get the animal myself stay here” He started walking off.

“Man, what the fuck just happened?”

____

Not to plot driven this chapter unless you conclude the fact Kokushibo thought reader was a demon☠️

Next part will be a little more spicy, in truth after a certain point I forgot what the hell I was typing a desperately tried to remember.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!!

I'll typo check later :3

[hs-is-loml]

Till the End of Time. (d.t)

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: as times change you are closer to being wed off to another, and rising concerns between you and your beloved appear. will you end up together in the end?

Warnings: 18+. includes incestual relationship, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, mentions of death, small mentions of child neglect, fluff (UNEDITED)

a/n: back with my new obsession with the house of the dragon!! hope you enjoy :) also idk if the ages go ten and six or six and ten but yk what i mean

word count: 4.54k

all translations of high valyrian come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!

masterlist

Longing for Daemon Targaryen was something you were pretty used to, sadly, With the Rouge Prince’s habits of getting himself into trouble always made it hard for you to see him. Though you never had a say as it was your father’s choice on how to handle him. Being the King's eldest daughter is more complicated than most people think. Especially when he crowned you his heir years prior when you were just of the age ten and six. 

You always doted on your uncle even from a young age though now ten and nine. He was the one to pick your dragon’s egg for your cradle. He let you ride on Caraxes with him when your dragon was too small to ride. Gave you lessons about your family’s history and the way they ruled. With your father always wishing for a boy, your mother always with a child or grieving over one, and your sister preferring Alicent Hightower’s company before yours. Daemon was the only one to ever treat you as a priority.  

You heard rumors about him returning from Dragonstone though you wanted to know for yourself. Daemon never held it against you when your father named you heir and Princess of Dragonstone. As you made it down to the dragon’s pit with your guard Ser Harwin Strong, you heard the notorious roar of Caraxes with a widening smile on your face. 

“Ser Harwin, you know how Caraxes feels about others. You may take your leave, I will be okay here,” you turned to your guard who knew better than to argue with you when it came to dragons. 

“Of course, Princess. I will be back here before the sun goes down,” he told you before making his way back.

You knew Caraxes could tell you were nearby because of the soft growls that came from him. You never once had a thought that Caraxes would ever harm you which is the same reason why you approached him and were able to place a hand on the dragon’s cheek. 

“I missed you too,” you whispered softly as he purred and leaned more into your hand. 

“He always did adore you more than he ever has me,” a voice you know all too well from behind you. 

“It is good to see you back, Uncle,” maintaining your focus on the dragon in front of you.

“It is good to be back, Gevie. Even more so with you here to greet me,” he smirked making his way closer to you before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind burying his face into your neck. (Beautiful)

“I take it you have missed me during your stay at Dragonstone?” you giggled placing your hands upon his arms and leaning back into him. Caraxes kept his eyes on you two for a second before getting bored and turning his head away. You laughed at the dragon’s attitude which seemed to resemble the same pettiness as his rider. 

“Nyke va moriot miss ao,” he muttered into your neck pressing light feather kisses from your ear down to your shoulder. (I always miss you.)

Though you were fairly certain some already knew about you and Daemon or at least had their suspicions, you two did a decent job in keeping what you two have to yourselves. More importantly keeping it from your father, the King himself. Even as the worries stayed at the back of your mind about when and how your father would react when he finds out, you paid no mind to them considering your father paid no mind to you. 

“Se nyke've missed ao,” you responded turning to face him and looking into his mesmerizing eyes. (And, I’ve missed you.)

“You grow to be more beautiful each time with every meeting,” he told you as he tucked a piece of your hair back into your tiara. 

“As dashing as ever, My Prince,” you felt heat rush to your cheeks. 

“I hear rumors about Lords trying to court you as of now. Is it true?” he growled under his breath finding solace in kissing your neck.

Ever since you came of age your father has wanted to marry you off to some wealthy lord with a decent standing. The idea of marrying another who isn’t Daemon Targaryen repulsed you to a different extent. 

“You know I would never submit to those disgusting pigs,” you muttered while trying to stile moans threatening to leave your mouth.

“How about me, Issa dōna niece?” raising back to meet your eyes and gazing down upon your lips. (my sweet niece)

“To you? Everyday,” you murmur before lightly pressing your lips against his just to pull back a second later.

You found yourself feeling content with the thought of being with Daemon. You knew no one could ever treat you better or understand your position as well as he could. You could also see him by your side when/if you were to actually rule. No one else could fill his position in your life. 

“No one will take you from me,” you knew he spoke the truth. If there’s anything your uncle is good at, it’s taking what he wants. 

“And I have no doubt,” you said as he pushed your chin up to get a good view of you. 

He smashed his lips against yours and pulled you even closer to close the gap between you two. You move your hands to go around his neck to try and pull yourself up to him. His hands moved down from your waist to your hips tightening his grip. Making you gasp slightly and allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. You kissed until all the breath left your lungs and even then you never wanted to let him go. Scared to see him disappear and you married off to anyone but him.

You knew it was wrong, but that has never stopped you before from pursuing this relationship with your uncle. Not a piece of you has ever regretted giving yourself to him. He treated you better than anybody else. He has never given you a reason to not put your trust in him.

“It got annulled,” he whispers against your lips.

“What?” you had an idea but didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“My bronze bitch and I.” he spat as he said the infamous name he had given to his late wife.

You heard the rumors about what happened to Rhea Royce. Though it was stated that her cause of death was caused by a mishap with her horse during hunting, others found it odd that with the high skills of Rhea Royce on horseback is what would be her doom. Others suspected that the Rouge Prince had something to do with her death as it was always a known fact Daemon hated her.

Even with the length of their marriage, not a single child was born between the two of them. Some say that he didn’t even bed her throughout their marriage which leads to Runestone without an heir. He always would compare her to sheep and then proceed to call the sheep prettier.

“Does this mean I could call you to mine as well?” you questioned looking into his eyes shimmering in lust. 

“I have always been yours as you have always been mine,” he confessed while leaning down to rest his forehead against yours smiling softly.

“Avy jorrāelan.” (I love you.) 

“Se avy jorrāelan,” he replied pressing a light kiss on your lips making you blush easily. (And I love you.)

“The sun is almost down,” you said somberly knowing your lovely reunion with Daemon would come to a close when you see the sun start being replaced with the moon.

You dreaded the thought of going back to Red Keep and having to act as if nothing ever happened. You were sick of being pushed aside by your family and the council. You had to act as if everything was fine even when you heard about the rising dangers on the Stepstones. Your mother looked even frailer than she usually was during a prolonged pregnancy. 

“I brought something back for you,” he said as he reached his hand in his pocket pulling out a necklace.

“It’s beautiful,” going to reach for it before Daemon pulled it back in his hand closing his fist around it. 

“Do you know what it is, Princess?” he questioned you dangling it in front of your eyes.

“It is valerian steel, Uncle. Like Dark Sister” you answered keeping your eyes on the object in his grasp.

“Turn around,” he commanded.

You slowly turn your heel to turn your back to him. You reach up to your neck and remove the small diamond chain necklace that he gifted you the last time you saw him. As you pulled the necklace down from your neck, Daemon gently placed the new one upon you and kept his hands on your shoulders as he placed more kisses where the necklace lays.

“Now, You and I both own a small piece of our ancestry,” he whispered into your ear.

The tournament being held for your mother’s birth of a possible heir to replace you had every waiting for the announcement of the babe. Though Lords and Heads vowed their allegiance with you, that didn’t stop them from wanting a male on the Iron Throne instead of you. Seated next to your father just behind Rhaenyra and Alicent you anxiously waited for Daemon’s turn. 

As it came time for him to choose his opponent, you had no doubt in your mind that his choice of Gwayne Hightower was to piss out the King’s hand, Otto Hightower. Your shared hatred of the hand was because of the pure manipulation he used against your father to further benefit himself. He was a sneak and a traitor that wanted you gone as heir.

Knowing this would be an easy win for Daemon you had no worry that he would get hurt during it. Though you could say the same for Alicent who was nervously picking at the skin of her nails as she watched her brother get ready to go against Daemon. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rhaenyra placing a hand over Alicent’s as a sense of trying to calm her. It hurt knowing your younger sister didn’t have much interest in you, you held no major feelings of hatred against knowing the people she put herself around. 

Just like you presumed the match between Daemon and the Hightower son ended as quickly as it started. You stood cheering for him as you connected eyes with him. He gave you a smile that most people would normally never see from the Prince. When he made his way toward the stand, you hoped he would ask for your favor.

“Issa dōna niece, would you give me the honor of winning this tournament with your favor?” he spoke loudly keeping eye contact with you. (My sweet niece)

“Of course, Uncle,” you hear from beside you which made you snap your neck at the person who spoke.

“Actually I was talking about the other Princess,” which made you blush at the confirmation that he wanted your favor. 

You looked to your father as if to ask for his permission not that it matter to you anyways. He gave you a nod with a curious look on his face as he noticed the interaction between you and his brother. 

“Nyke jaelagon jeme issa biarves, uncle,” you wished him as you threw down the ring of flowers. (i wish you all my luck, uncle)

“Thank you, Princess,” and with that, he was off.

The King was gone a long time when he left in a rush which you assumed was to go see your mother during her labors. There were whispers amongst all of you as everyone wondered if the King finally got his wish of a son. You understood his obsession with a son but that did not mean you weren’t scared about being replaced. 

You knew something was wrong like there was a dark cloud looming over King’s Landing. You stood from your seat to rush back to the Red Keep and find out what was going on with your mother. The feeling of dread was ultimately crushing the closer you made it to her chambers. It was a mess. Blood everywhere. You tried to make your way into the room but the guards wouldn’t let you.

You felt the tears stream down your face for the woman who gave birth to you. She might not have acted as a mother to you but you knew her thoughts about fulfilling her duties which she felt like a failure for not doing so. 

When you finally broke free from the guards and made it into the room where your mother lays on a stained bed with a cloth now over her. All the air felt like it was knocked out of your lungs as you tried to gasp air in whilst having a hand over your mouth in disbelief and another over your stomach as if trying to hold yourself up. You looked around the room to find your father carrying a babe in his arms. He got his wish. He just had to kill her to get it. 

“What is his name, Father?” you asked as you made it closer to him and the child he was carrying. You felt growing resentment towards your father and the child as they were the reasons your mother was now gone. 

“Baelon.”

“Fitting for a prince,” you told him.

“Would you mind to hold him, Daughter?” as he turned towards you motioning for you to take Baelon.

“Of course not,” you gently took the child in your arms. He looked so frail and delicate. You knew this was your father’s dream child. You just never knew the extent he was going to in order to achieve it.

Tears still streamed down your face as you studied the child in your arms. You knew how Rhaenyra would take this news considering she was closer with mother than you ever were. She would be devastated, and your heart broke, even more, knowing she has no clue while still being at the tournament.

You could not take it anymore and gave Baelon back to your father as you sank down to your knees crying for the loss of your mother. She might have not been a good mother because she was always tied down to child’s birth, but she had her moments with you that you truly cherished. Like the time when Rhaenyra was 5 and your father was always more interested in spending time with her than you, your mother called you to her chambers and spent the time telling you stories to make you feel better. She told you that as the eldest you deserved to be the heir over anyone else, and she wished for you to become queen one day.  

You screamed in angst calling for her, but no response. The handmaidens tried to care for you though with no luck as you pushed their hand off you. Your father tried to calm you with words that fell silent to your ears. 

“Someone call for Prince Daemon,” your father ordered one of the guards which you didn’t hear. The universe felt like it was crashing upon you and that the weight was unbearing with every second. 

“Where is she?!” the Prince came rushing into the room having just ended the tournament. He paused as he saw you on the floor crying.

He made no waste of time and made his way towards you and lifted you into his lap. One arm wrapped around your waist and another covering your head as he spoke sweet nothings into your ear to calm you. 

You clutched onto him as he was the only thing keeping you grounded. He held onto you as if he was trying to protect you from the dangers of this world. The King never thought he would see the day when his brother would care so deeply for another. He saw the interaction between you two during this moment, and something deep down in him was glad you had someone to look after you when he didn’t.

“Brother, I will take her to her chambers to rest,” Daemon spoke out to his brother as he carried you against his chest. 

“Yes, of course, do what you must.”

“Tell the guards to leave tonight, no one needs to hear her cries anymore than they already have, I will stay with her tonight, Brother,” he told him.

“Understood, thank you for taking care of her, Brother,” Viserys thanked his brother.

“He killed her,” you whispered as Daemon laid you on your bed.

“What?” he asked in confusion while he took his place in bed right next to you take you back into his arms. 

“He chose that babe over her,” you spat out. “Daemon, what if someone did that to me?”

“No one ever will, my love. I will make sure of it,” he stated.

“They want to marry me away soon,” you told him.

“They will not take you from me,” pressing you against him tighter.

“You must be willing to let me go unless you choose to do something about it,” you admit to him lifting your head from his chest to look him in the eyes. 

He gives you an uncertain look of not knowing what to say. You took it upon yourself to give him a distraction from your situation and placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth before he captured your lips against his. 

You raised one of your arms to place your hand on his cheek to pull his face closer to yours. The kiss was filled with passion and commitment to one another. Daemon said what he need with the kiss and you knew that. The longer the kiss last, tense heighten, causing Daemon to sit up and pull you on his lap. You straddled him throughout the kiss, slowly rocking yourself back and forth against his hips. Increasing the friction and pleasure for both of you. You could feel him getting hard from underneath you which only caused you to smile into the kiss.

He broke away from you to move on to your neck and his hands moved from your waist to work on getting your dress off.  He untied the back strings to loosen it and slipped the straps off your shoulders leaving your chest bare. He went from your neck to your breasts quickly kissing, nipping, and sucking on the supple skin leaving love marks on them. He lifted you off his lap to stand and remove his tunic and pants. While you stood to let the dress drop and pool around your feet before stepping over it and laying back down on the bed. 

You both were bear to each other with Daemon moving and taking place between your legs. He leaned down to kiss you and traveled his hand down to your bundle of nerves slowly rubbing small circles with his thumb. You gasped at the sensation allowing Daemon to explore around your mouth. Daemon paused from kissing you and started moving down your body leaving kisses on the valley of your breast down to your stomach before going even lower.

He started his attack with his mouth against you devouring you like a starved man. Licking up and down between your lower lips, circling his tongue around your clit before closing in to suck on it. Your moans sounded like heaven to his ears. He slowly pushes a finger to ease in you, sliding it in and out with an occasional curl of his finger. The heat and pleasure were building in you waiting to snap. He added another finger in while stretching you out to get ready for him.

“Ao issi sīr ȳrda,” he groaned against you only adding more pleasure. (You are so tight)

“Mērī syt ao,” you moaned gripping the sheets in your hands. (Only for you)

He sped up his actions as you chased for your release and just like that it felt like something snapped in you. Your body tensed as your legs started to shake leading you to clench around his fingers trying to close your legs together only for him to move his other arm to spread them apart. He kept going through your climate making you press a hand against his head trying to push him off because of the overstimulation, but that didn’t stop him. He worked you through your high as you finally stopped shaking and started relaxing your body.

He got up from his position and went back between your legs, a hand on his hard cock lining himself up against your hole. He slowly pushed in letting out a hiss at how tightly your walls hugged against him. He pushed in all the way before stilling for a moment inside you allowing you to adjust to his size as you were never able to get used to it. You continued to moan as you felt him brush against your cervix. He was so deep inside you making you feel complete. 

After a minute, he started rocking back and forth before pulling out slightly to push back in. The size of his cock was godly and felt like it was splitting you into two. He bottomed out to quickly push himself even deeper into you. He groaned as he felt you squeeze your walls around him. You had tears falling from your eyes from the pure ecstasy that you were feeling. He leaned down to kiss the tears from your face before kissing you passionately against the lips. 

 The sound of skin slapping against each other, your moans, and his groans filled your chambers. Your moans caused him to speed up his pace and have a bruising grip on your hips. He repeatedly brushed against that spot in you causing you to tightly wrap your legs around his waist in order to push him deeper into you. 

“Daemon, I’m close,” you said softly through your moans. 

“I know, my love. Let go,” he encouraged you, feeling your walls close in on him. 

You released yourself around his cock as he searched for his own high within you. Before pushing one last time pulling you against his hips as you felt him spill his seed into you, thickly coating your walls. He lowered his head to your neck trying to stabilize his breath. You hissed at the sense of losing the feeling of being full as he pulled out and laid next to you. 

“You are the reason why I keep living,” you muttered as you turned to look at him.

“And you are the reason for my existence,” he replied back pulling you closer to him.  

You walked around the room looking at all the lords' cups to see who needed their wine-filled. This was your job during the meetings of the small council though you didn’t mind it as much since it abled you to hear news and what happens through the Seven Kingdoms. This meeting was just a bit better considering your beloved was in the room as well. 

“Your Grace, I do think it is time to start looking at arrangements and proposals for our Princess here,” Otto mentioned to your father as he stared at you filling Lord Corlys’ cup.

“Excuse me?” you questioned not knowing how the attention transferred to you so quickly.

“You are of age, daughter. There has to be someone that has been able to catch your eye as of late,” your father responded to you.

“She is our heir and you want to give her to some unworthy lord, brother?” Daemon asked looking at your father and his hand with bewilderment which covered his true feelings of anger at the thought of you marrying another. 

“Daemon, she will be well taken care of with whomever she ends up with, but I do appreciate your concern for her,” your father said as he turned to his brother. 

“We shall organize a tour for the Princess soon,” Otto recommended to your father while the other members nodded in agreement.

“Your Grace, why don’t you marry her to Prince Daemon under Targaryen traditions? He is now widowed with the death of Lady Rhea Royce,” Lord Corlys suggested to your father which the King went silent at.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the anticipated response of your father. You moved your gaze to Daemon who was already staring back at you with a smirk on his lips. The idea of being able to marry Daemon filled you with hope about your future.

“Lord Corlys, don’t be ridiculous,” Otto glared at him. 

“No, I understand what you mean. You all may leave except you my brother stay,” The King directed everyone in the room. 

You waited for everyone to leave before making your way out but in reality, while your father was distracted by his own thoughts you hid behind a column near the door. 

“Brother, what do you think of this?” your father questioned Daemon with uncertainty.

“I think of no better option. Wed her to me,” Daemon admitted to your father, only furthering your hope. “When I offered up my place as heir, you said I could have anything. I want her. I'll take her as she is, and wed her in the tradition of our house.”

“Daemon, do not do this to her only because you want a chance for the throne. This is my daughter we are talking about,” your father warned him.

“I would not dare to do such things to her.”

“And if she were to be better off marrying another?” Viserys proposed to Daemon. 

“What better off rising the status of a measly lord?” Daemon retorted back starting to raise his voice.

“Daemon, I am not sure of this union,” Viserys voiced out his concern taking a sip from his cup of wine.

“I will take care of her. You know this.”

“But can I trust you to do what is best for her and our kingdom?” your father challenged him. 

“She deserves nothing but the absolute best,” Daemon stated. 

“Then very well, we shall start the preparation for this new engagement,” Viserys came to conclusion. Your father suspected the love you two had for each other but never got to confirmation of how deep it truly is. Now he sees Daemon is the perfect match for you, and after the years of neglecting your father as laid on you, it felt like it was the least he could do for you.

Your father exited the room leaving Daemon in his thoughts about Viserys actually coming to an agreement with him. The second the door shut you left your hiding place and ran to Daemon throwing yourself upon him. Arms around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist securely.

“You are mine,” Daemon whispered to your ear.

“Till the end of time."

[mysticficti0n]

All my Attention part 3

warnings- swearing, mentions of a dildo, sexual tension, kissing, quite fluffy

words- 3.1k

If you'd like to read the previous parts → All my attention series

a/n- so if you're new here I am British and cannot speak any German, I speak a little French, Spanish and Italian but German- no. I also do not trust Google translate so this is gonna be like an avatar thing (if you've seen the newest one Jake says that their language just became normal or something along those lines) so in reality this is all in German, you as a reader know German but, its wrote in English... make sense? no... well, sorry this part has taken a while- I'm on holiday atm so I probably wont be posting till I'm home BUT I didn't want you to be without, also fucking thank you all so much for the response to the first and second part! I can't believe the response to it, I could've cried because im a baby , love you all 🤍

(also to the people who've sent requests they will be coming soon!)

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backstory- you are the 5th member of Tokio Hotel and you always thought the love was equally platonic between you and a certain guitarist... but what if that all changed?

"exactly what I said- we can't keep doing the same thing at every show" Georg spoke shovelling eggs into his mouth, the band and our runners, managers, directors, and everyone else who I didn't know exactly what they did for us... were all sat on tables eating breakfast before rehearsal "because I'm sorry if we go on tour I wont wanna blow my brain out because i'm playing by your side for the millionth time"

"yeah but there's a thing called a set list, we have to stick with it otherwise" Bill leaned closer into the table facing all of us "otherwise we'd get shit and we all know how Felix will react- we all remember last time" he had a point, Felix as nice as he can act is a massive cock, once in a performance we decided to all go to the front of that stage to say goodnight- but Felix didn't like that and he ended up cancelling our next 3 shows to 'teach us a lesson'

"even so" the bassist grumbled, the conversation fell short as we all continued to eat, I had a bowl of granola, greek yogurt, raspberries and strawberries, soon the scrapping of a chair pulled me from eating my breakfast, I looked up to see Tom in a huge black shirt and basketball shorts "hungry?" Georg joked seeing the pile of food on his friends plate

"a bit" Tom laughed grabbing part of a waffle "whats that?" he spoke looking at me, that was the first time he spoke to me since what happened only an hour before, I think we were both in a shock state still, but I also couldn't deny how good it felt

"granola, yogurt and fruit" I spoke back digging my spoon into the mix and pulling it back so he could have a taste, he bent forward taking the food and hummed

"Tha actuwally gwood" he spoke mouth still full

"ew Thomas swallow for fucks sake!" I spat seeing him nearly choke the food back up "Tom!" I called pushing myself away from the table "whats wrong with you" I laughed I look to see the rest of the boys laughing as well at his stupidity

"we can't go anywhere nice with you two" Bill commented throwing a napkin to his brother who wiped his mouth and finished his laugh

"sorry- I don't know why that was so funny to hear you say" he snorted, I finally sat back in my place next to Gustav who was eating his food with a smile

"all I said was swallow your food" I argued back looking at the guitarist

"normally me saying that to girls-" I rolled my eyes at his words but everyone else chuckled along, after another half an hour (mostly so Tom could finish his monstrous plate) we were bringing our bags down from the hotel room to put in the bus, we all got in the lift which I don't think was made for 5 people, and 2 of those 5 being over six foot tall

"can you move over I can't fucking breath" I spoke shoving Bill back bit

"now I can't breath you cunt!" Bill called back pushing me back laughing, soon the intercom spoke and the doors opened and I made my way out but was soon tackled by the black haired singer

"BILL WHAT THE FUCK" I shouted with a laugh, I crawled from his grip and began running away seeing him get up to and following my movement "AHHH!" I screamed turning a corner and then slipping past a cleaner cart

"Y/N COME HERE!" I herd Tom voice shout as I sprinted to him with his twin hot on my tail, I watched him open his hotel room and I ran as quick as I could into it and slammed the door spitting out a chuckle hearing the boy hit the door

"BITCH!" Bill sang followed by his own laugh and steps faded away from the door, I sat on Tom's bed and lay my head back into the sheets catching my breath hearing the door open again

"you good now?" He asked smiling at me "I didn't realise you were that fast- I swear you weren't when we were kids"

"excuse me! people change" I answered kicking him slightly, he grabbed my ankle stopping me from moving anymore- I melted at his touch which wasn't a usual thing

"mhm, you changed in a good way babe don't worry about it" he flirted looking down at me the smile changing into a smirk

"you're in a very odd mood today mr Kaulitz" I spoke sitting myself as he let go of my ankle

"only for you-" he leant down, pressing his head on mine "and if I remember properly, who moaned when we kissed earlier? hum?" his hand was now resting on the base of my neck "who was it Y/n?"

"I don't know Tom" I answered seeing him bite his lip at my words "maybe you imagined it?" we always played around, flirting but this was different... very different

"I have a fucking good imagination then don't I?" Tom pulled away slightly, his his fingers brushed my skin as he let go and he held my chin, lifting my face to look up to him "....I prefer looking at you like this" I blushed at his words, they made me feel soft

"bet you say that to all the girls" he seethed rolling his eyes

"only the special ones...and you're really special!"

"way to ruin a mood" I huffed

"I'm joking Y/n/n, you just look hot below me ts'all" his hand held me tighter and he bent to reach my lips, he pressed hard humming into the feeling and sucked my bottom lip causing me to have to hold back any noise I threatened to make as I didn't want a repeat of earlier "I better get packing" he spoke pulling back creasing my cheek with his thumb leaving me with a unfulfilled feeling

"yeah.." I pouted, he looked back down at me and grinned

"god don't look at me like that... fuck- stop now, I've gotta pack" I stood with him as he turned to grab a tossed shirt from the floor, his hand glided down my thigh leaving a trail of goosebumps- he knew what he was doing, making me blush and shudder as his hand left me "oopsie"

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we all sat backstage kicking our heals as the crowd arrived, but we also knew the crowd was special- our families were watching us tonight, I decided I'd wear a more appropriate outfit (not like my family hadn't seen pictures of me in mini-skirts and tube tops saying 'pouty') I looked alot like Tom, my baggy jeans hanging around my hips with a matching tank top to him "5 minuets!" a runner called making us all rise from our places

"excited?" Georg smiled shoving me lightly

"I can't wait" I spoke pinning around to the music that began, Bill looked back at me with a smile followed by a wink

"3...2...1" Felix called and Tom, Bill entered the stage erring a eruption from the crowd "go!" Georg and I walked on and smiled seeing the sea of fans watching us with grins plastering their faces and finally Gustav entered

"GOOD EVENING TRIER" Bill called holding the mic close "ARE YOU EXCITED!" though the lights were blinding I could make out the shapes of bodies from my place "ugh we have a show n' a half for you all tonight, and this show is very special to us- one, this is our last show here in the lovely Trier and- most importantly our biggest fans are here tonight" the lights moved to the box above the crowd and for the first time in weeks I saw them: mom, dad, Stella, the Kaulitz, Listing and Schäfer family, I nearly cried waving to them and blowing them kisses "so tonight is going to be the best show we've ever done guys! ARE YOU READY" I watched as my family cheered and little Stella clapped her hands. Tom's guitar began the start of Scream followed by Gustav and Bill ran back to main stage, the crowd danced and jumped along "SCREAM" they called back to us at every chorus making me laugh.

The night carried on and everything was going amazingly, and it came time for me to take centre stage, I brought my mic and herd people call my name "so- this is our newest piece of music, I originally wrote when I was in a very bad place, and as you all know I'm back up singer so usually I don't perform up here- so close to everyone so I'm a little nervous but.. but it means a lot to me so.. this is 'please don't jump'" claps filled the room and Tom joined me giving me a nod as he plucked away followed by Gustav and Georg, Bill was in the corner sipping a water watching me like a proud dad

I let my self get lost in the music, stomping my feet and twirling around "don't let memories go! of me and you" I sang watching my family stare in awe, I began up stage onto the platform where I stood teetering on the edge, all lights went off besides the one on me "PLEASE DON'T JUMP! DON'T JUMP, AND IF ALL THAT CAN'T HOLD YOU BACK, THEN I'LL JUMP FOR YOU" I finished bowing to the crowd who burst out with claps, screams and calls making me jump at the sudden noise

"Y/N Y/N Y/N!" people began to chant making me well up, Gustav ran up the platform steps holding my hand gently so I could get down the steps as it was tricky in platforms, hand in hand we met with Tom who smiled widely mouthing 'they're proud' I looked to see my mom whistling, soon the five of us stood at the tip of that walkway, people reached for us, calling us all over

"THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT!" we all shouted bowing once more as the light darkened, we all walked off and back to our room where there were drinks set out and towel "shit Im so thirsty" Georg spoke grabbing the bottle and cracking it open as we all took our first proper breath and relaxed

"erm- sorry I know you got off stage but someones hear" Gayle, my runner spoke holding the door open a little more

"BABA!" a small voice called, I looked down to see Stella dressed in a Tokio Hotel shirt and orange leggings running toward me, her blonde hair tied into piggy tails

"STELLA!" I cried falling to my knees pulling her into my arms "oh my god I missed you so much" I whispered into her neck, her bright eyes looked into mine and I couldn't let go of her, I pressed kisses to her chubby cheeks

"Oh my- Y/n dear! another voice came in and I snapped my head to see my mother, tear stained face reaching for me, I watched as Stella ran onto Gustav who picked her up hugging her tightly and I ran to my mom who was closely followed by the rest of our families "sunshine I missed you!"

"I missed you too mom" I cried as she stroked my hair away from my face, she let go and I turned to see my dad who had Tom in a bro-hug

"aww hello Poppy!" he spoke, I nearly fell apart hearing my nickname again, and he grabbed me into the hug "aw that was amazing kids" he spoke letting go of us, I stood speaking with them until I herd the voice of my sister

"Tommy!" she laughed and everyones faces snapped to her

"SHE SAID MY NAME!" The dreadheaded boy called lifting her into his arms and tickling her "ME BEFORE BILL!" he danced seeing her smile

"Hey! Stella I thought you liked me more!" Bill huffed squishing the cheeks of her face

"am I the better twin?...yeah! I know" Tom scoffed bouncing her on his hip, our families laughed and all began hugging each other

"darlings that show was fantastic and the crowd! I couldn't believe it" Simone, the twins mom smiled "I couldn't be more proud"

"thanks mom" Bill hugged pressing a kiss to her cheek "wait..erm hold on!" we all watched as the singer ran out calling for something, I turned to see Stella smiling and reaching for all the boys, Tom, Georg and Gustav were sat on the floor singing songs and twirling her around, the song finished and Stella did a bow making the boys laugh at her antics

"Baba!" the little blonde called reaching for me, Tom realised and quickly scooped her up so she was lying on her tummy with her arms out she began airplane sounds (but kept interrupting herself with her chuckles) "Brrrrrrrrr!" she grinned showing her two small teeth

"aww my baby airplane" I spoke reaching for her as Tom got closer, the two reached me and I took my sister from his arms spinning her while pressing a kiss to her cheek again "you're a very cute plane Stella"

"Plane!" she repeated getting a 'yeah a plane' from the guitarist who couldn't stop smiling

"Okay... everyone come stand over here were getting a photo!" Bill came back in grabbing his family, the line up was the Kaulitz' far left, then my family the Y/l/n's, then the Schäfer's and finally Listing's "We want a few!" Bill called to the person holding the camera

"1...2....3" everyone did a wide smile, even Stella knew what was going on "perfect, do you want another one of these then we can do different stuff like.. the point?" its like a lightbulb went off it the taller twins head

"okay yes... then the point, then serious faces, then one with us 5 a bit more infront of our families, then on chairs" he rambles while setting us all back out for the next 3000 photo's we'd be taking

I don't think I've ever herd the numbers 1,2 and 3 said so much in my life but after half an hour the pictures were finally done and in fairness they looked great "well we best get going" Christine, Georg's mom spoke grabbing her bag

"oh.." we began before Simone whispered something to her husband

"why don't you all come stay round ours? we can have a family night, drinks, games, food" me and the band cheered, quickly grabbing our stuff and getting ready to walk out- we knew that today being a day show, fans would be waiting for us- we decided the safest option was to give our families over to security along with our bags and walk out on our own

"okay Stella we'll see you in a little while okay?" I hugged her once more before giving her over to dad who was carrying her out, we waited till we knew they were in their cars and I came the time we'd be walking out, with one last check of the room we began outside, screams filled our ears, people threw flowers to us, cards, papers and... thongs- but we picked the flowers up. a few people grabbed at my clothing but besides that it was a safe 3 minuet walk from the building to the bus

"they were loud" Gustav spoke getting into his favourite seat, at the very back on the left "Georg come sit!" he called to the bassist who jumped through the seats, leaving Bill who liked sitting in the front then me and Tom sat in the middle two seats

"god I fucking loved that show" I spoke belting myself in, Tom did the same and our hands brushed- its not something that many would really worry about, it was an accident.. but I could help go hot at the feeling

"it was so good, I feel like we'll be in Felix's good books" the dreaded boy spoke getting a nod from the band, we finally began the drive home, it would only take around an hour and a half so I got myself comfy which meant me resting my legs over Tom- this was a normal thing as usually sometime around the trip we'd switch and I can accidentally put my cold drink on his legs while he's asleep definitely not making him yelp- no not at all...

"can you take my shoes off, you're closer" I spoke tapping his shoulder and with a huff he began unlacing the platforms, I sighed at the feeling of my feet going light and not having to lug those shoes around any more "thanks bab" I called leaning my head back, Tom got comfy to, scooting deeper into the seat and his hands lay on my legs drawing small shapes and humming a long to whatever song was on the radio

"wanna know something crazy?" He asked looking over at me to which I nodded "I haven't fucked a girl since Tuesday, and its Friday now" I pretend to be shocked, slapping my hands to my face

"holy shit! that is crazy!" he rolled his eyes "I can't even remember when I last fucked someone- probably around my birthday" I sighed slightly annoyed, not that I'm some sex freak who needs to be constantly fucked to live but... my birthday is in February and its now July

"damn... how do you go that long?" Georg spoke uncrossing his arms, being genuinely interested

"Notta clue... I-"

"Y/n I know whats in the back draw in your room" Bill turned showing a sinister smile

"Bill!" I called knowing exactly what he was on about

"ooo" the boys cooed making me go red, Bill laughed even harder pointing at my face "aww! she's embarrassed about her dil-"

"BILL SHUT IT!" I shouted flinging my empty water bottle at him making him cackle throwing his pillow at me

"IT'S BLACK!" He called and the 4 boys Burt out laughing again spluttering words and coughing at how much they were laughing

"oh my god you are all dicks!" I groaned trying to push myself as far back into my seat as I could, I even took my legs down from Tom who I could realised but I was way to embarrassed to give him a 'look'

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"he traffic isn't moving so were going to be a little later to the Kaulitz" Gregory our driver spoke facing us

"ugh" we all collectively sighed, its been over 30 minuets of just stand-still traffic, cars horns went off but nothing was moving and being a warm day in a quite packed van it was getting hot

we'd moved past the dildo conversation thanks to Tom who made a fool of himself by spilling water all down his shirt- I did wonder though, was it on purpose? to take away the attention from me... but anyways whatever it was, or even just it was an accident- my legs were back on his and he continued to draw little shapes

"I'm going to sleep" Bill spoke looking back to which we gave a nod, by we I mean me and Tom as the other two fell asleep a few minuets back, the van sound turned quiet as the radio was turned off

"wanna play a game?" Tom spoke quietly

"sure, which game?" I asked seeing a little grin appear to his face

"erm... eye spy?"

[humansbgone]

I got an ask on YouTube that asks some questions I've never gotten a chance to answer before, so I thought I'd repost it here!

m m on YouTube says:

Shared forms of communication would be absolutely possible, if there is an intention to communicate.

Forms of meaning can be conveyed by shared media, such as sculpture, rhythm, and yes, even scent. If we were hypothetically able to make mechanical items which don't break down too quickly.

It would be difficult as all heck, but CERTAINLY not impossible.

Humans could form structures that resemble Sophi.

How do the macrovolutes do math, btw?

What is their scent "language" like? Do they have different "languages" or would one macrovolutes be entirely able to say absolutely anything to any other macrovolute and be completely understood? Basically, how much of their communication is constructed and voluntary vs innate and involuntary?

Their communication method MUST have simple forms which appear as set patterns, such as the translation of the statement "A is not B" or "A is B". Would these single meaning packets have individual scents/patterns OF scents which are distinct and repeating, even if contextual, such as for our verb tenses, etc, or would they be the same, such as for nouns, which have a basic pattern but usually with a simple modifier which is applied across all, or similar types of, nouns, such as the s for English, or other notations for other languages, even if they are applied differently across different noun types, those types are set in patterns and categories.

I'd be extremely interested in a meta study of the macrovolutes communication and ability to encode meaning.

ANY encoding, ANY encryption, no matter how it takes place, whether linearly or not, can be "translated"

My reponse:

Can you understand the way a raven describes a human face (which we know they do)? Can you understand what plants whisper to each other across their roots? The more structured we learn whale communication is, the more frustrating it becomes that we barely understand any of it.

Add this to the fact the humans are, just now, finally in a place again to have anything resembling an industrial revolution. As their technology advances, they have gone from thinking of the macrovolutes as gods, to viewing them as entirely mindless. To say the least, communicating with them is not where the priorities of most lie.

On top of that, without smell and movement, most macrovolutes would not regard a sculpture as anything meaningful. Would you understand if ants laid out a perfect scent trail of your likeness?

And Sophodra herself has some issues with denial, and difficulty remembering.

But, as Gregorsa said…there is a way. More than that would be spoilers, though!

Macrovolute math is something that would be very difficult for a human. Instead of thinking one small step at a time in precise units, they tend to think in vast, fuzzy, three-dimensional figures. The closest I can describe it would be like doing operations in Dyalog APL on a GPU, scaling up the resolution as you go. On top of that, there are inherit unit qualifiers and slots to how they specify numbers. There is no "two." There is "non-moving few-member half-unit generic substance absent an individual," translated approximately. They also go out of their way to avoid using exact numbers wherever possible. Vectors and frequency indicators (similar but not equivalent to sine waves) are very commonly used in casual conversation. And on top of that, they use base six!

Macrovolutes have both a core language and a meta language. The core language covers basic things, and is innate and understood by all (with some differences between insects and arachnids, so arachnids typically learn the insect way). The meta language is learned and varies, covering things like slang, jargon, and more specific experiences.

Macrovolute grammar structure is most similar to highly agglutinative Native American languages, such as Kwak'wala. There is a root word, and additional stems keep getting added to it. Instead of just prefixes, infixes, and postfixes, however, there are scents being wafted toward you in three dimensions. (Also worth noting that our linguistic categories are largely Western ways of thinking, and macrovolutes do not categorize their "sentence" partitions the same way at all!)

You could also think of it like Common Lisp, with its layers of functions feeding into functions!

Macrovolute language is simultaneously frustratingly ambiguous, and bizarrely precise. As mentioned, many things are thought of in particular complicated units, with some parts explicitly or implicitly left empty. Imagine a unit that defines speed, "weight" (by Unknown Nature standards, which is all the more complex), temperature, volume…but half is missing, and the other half is filled out with things like "several" or "more than a reasonable amount."

On top of that, Formicosan culture loves to leave things vague as a deliberate power move. There will be loquacious description of a thought that isn't finished. "Oh, A is a sort of thing…it gets around, has been known to be in this sort of location…possesses a certain quality, it's not unknown…possibly it is negatively related to a thing you mentioned…." And if you don't remember that B was mentioned, then you just missed that this statement means "A is not B."

[l0uterstella]

ALL SO BAD ANALYSIS

surprise surprise its me again. there isnt a set theory on this one this time i think? just expanding on the previous theories (hence why the header says analysis and not theory)

read these to understand this post: Ever Red theory, Cielomort's death

Last updated: Jan 15 2024

Full English lyrics

LYRICS

No One Is Recalling + Make it "NOIR"

No one remembers the Noir Bouquet OR Noir Bouquet doesn't want to be remembered. The SEEDs affected their continent too much. They've been fighting them off for years, but fail once they reach Hallritt, leading to the overall disaster. Notice how "NOIR" is in quotations. "Make it so that no one remembers."

"Six souls are worth a hundred." Six souls could save hundreds of lives, but hundreds of lives could also end because of the actions of the Six souls.

Badobarm isn't letting himself be corrupted by SEEDs, even though it seems to already be overwhelming him.

The damage has already been done to Noir's continent. Now, they're spectators to what will happen to the Red and Blue bouquets like a show.

They also mention being "upside down" a few times. Being upside down usually means that things aren't as they seem which definetely fits Noir. They're hiding something from the other bouquets.

MV

Both Ever Red and All So Bad have glitch effects, while Aozora no Memory doesn't. The damage has already been done to the Blue Bouquet with Cielomort's death, leaving Red and Noir being spied on by SEEDs.

There's a quick shot of a moon probably in the first quarter. A first quarter moon can mean a call to action.

The sun (Hallritt) brings warmth and comfort, guiding the way, but the moon (Badobarm) is always chasing behind the sun, carrying the weight of the dark and scary things night brings (unwanted memories). They stay in the same sky (Cielomort), who watches over both them.

This whole clip. Just watch it. Please I love it so much oh my god. I don't even need to explain it it speaks for itself

Oil...????

This line really threw me off when translating but. I swear this makes more sense if you're in the discord server but. We got Jesus Cielomort comparisons. So. Biblical meaning for oil

"We're out of stock on oil" = We're out of luck and solutions

Summary of the "Eldritches"

Eldritt - The cause of everything

Cieldritch - Wants his friends to forget his death and live peacefully, possibly killed by Hallritt

Badoritch (aka el bado <3) - He holds his friends close and is his motivation to fight. Especially if Hallritt killed Cielomort, Badobarm represents the guilt and consequences Hallritt has to face for it

BONUS

Almost all of Arupek's lines are suspicious he's definetely more important to the plot and isnt just a litol babyboy

Hangyon says "ごめん/Sorry" in its kanji form that I don't really see being used often (御免な) and this is what each kanji means

im watching you old man .

"We won't you go away" can be interpreted either way "won't let you go away" or "we want you to go away"

Can't stop to go my way Follow me glow my way Come with me go my way We won't you go away Where have you gone away?

[indristian]

More weirdly specific König Headcanons

By an austrian for an austrian character

He can hide how drunk he is pretty well, doesn't really start slurring his words and can hold deep conversations, the gig is over as soon as he stands up tho. He starts swaying pretty badly and has walked into more than one lamppost while intoxicated. Has apologized to every lamppost so far much to the amusement of everyone watching.

He isn't very religious but if someone starts praying the rosary in German his autopilot kicks in and he joins in. Same with certain church songs.

Started smoking at age 16 (don't worry, that was the legal age for smoking until like 5 years ago, then the gov changed it to 18) and regularly tries to quit. Nowadays he mostly smokes when stressed or drunk.

Tries to make everyone on his team say "Oachkatzlschwoaf" (means tail of a squirrel in an austrian dialect), refuses to tell anyone the English meaning bc he can't pronounce the word squirrel.

He's kinda choosy about the water he drinks. Water quality in austria is really good, so you can drink the tap water in the whole country. So when he's somewhere where the water is "technically" drinkable, but has a chlorine taste he prefers drinking bottled water.

Every new years eve at midnight he listens to the blue danube waltz, as is tradition in Austria.

There's a pocket in his tac vest that's reserved for Manner Schnitten. The people that saw something pink sticking out of his vest and made fun of him for it never get offered any when he opens a pack.

(Thanks to @court-of-fairytales for reminding me the Sissi movies exist) He has seen all of the movies, in theory, but the only times he has really seen them when he and his friends/teammates were "Sissi saufen" (saufen meaning drinking/binge drinking). It's a drinking game, mostly played around Christmas and new year, where you watch the 3 movies back to back and everytime someone in the movie says "your majesty" everyone has to stand up, say "long live the empress" and take a shot. Last man standing is the winner.

Has no visible tattoos but there's an AMA Gütesiegel stamp on his right buttcheek.

Kinds nsfw: Has absolutely quoted the "Ich will hinten rein!" ("I want in the back!" just with a lot more homoerotic implications) line when asked where he wanted to sit in a car and has gotten strange looks every time. (The movie this reference is from: (T)Raumschiff Surprise)

Kinda nsfw: He really likes talking to people in German (even if they don't really understand him) or teaching someone german words or phrases. The only thing he really hates is dirty talk in german, he'll do it if someone he's sleeping with requests it but he'll keep his face out of their sight bc he'll be 1000% be cringing.

Translates a lot of phrases literally bc the English equivalent "just doesn't have the right feel". Ends up saying things like "They look like a parcel someone ordered but never picked up", "They look like Bambi on stilts", "They have to pay attention like a clothes/shoe maker" ("aufpassen wie ein Haftelmacher", I know it as "aufpassen wie ein Haftelpitscher" but Google doesn't know it 😔) or "It's raining like the sky/like heaven is open".

Every time he sees someone with a Red Bull in their hand he has to resist the urge to say "You know, that's an austrian brand!"

The headcanons just keep coming!

And tbh after the last part I'm really tempted to make a playlist or a post compiling german songs König would get stuck in his head/would listen to. If anyone's interested please tell me!

Part one

Part two

Part four

Part five

Part six

[khristie16]

Table number six p.2/...

pairing: charles leclerc x reader summary: you decided to disappear from your hometown with your bestfriend, finding the anchor in Monaco. With your talent to be in the right place at the right time you got yourself to some fine situation PS summary: Does first touch precede love at first sight? Warnings: google translated French, smuttish thoughts Word count: 3.5K

(Her eyes are so beautiful. Her whole face is so beautiful. It forces me to smile like a little boy, red cheeks and cheeky smile. It compels me to go right after her. Be closer to her. I cannot though. So I'm holding myself back. Keeping my eyes away from her. And yet this little part of me - at least I thought it's little, aches for her and I want to know, If she feels the same.) -

You definitely wouldn't thought being on the right place, at the right time meant embarrassing yourself and all of it coming from a bunch of coincidences. As you were passing by between the tables, you stopped at your favorite one. Asking once again if they are satisfied with the service and the food. Nous avons tout, merci beaucoup. We have everything, thank you very much. You smiled at the old lady and that is when you recognized the great piece of clothing she's wearing from your favorite designer. (OMG!) Is that the collection called les bons souvenirs?? The old lady was looking at you confused. It took you a while it clicked. Je suis désolé, je demandais si c'était la collection les bons souvenir? You smiled and hoped that everything is fine between the two of you. (Is it mean to talk about her clothes right now?) Your prayers had been heard and she smiled widely. Yes, it is. You know this brand? Your eyes lit up, slightly surprised she is speaking English now. Yes! They are my favorite. I love their collection, especially this one! I have one piece of clothing from them and I just love how the material hugs my body. It is like a bunch of feathers caressing me haha. - you were so focused on the conversation that you haven't noticed that the certain guy furrowed his eyebrows at your comment. Qui, I know what you mean. I like them a lot as well. She smiled more once again and you reciprocated. In the meantime - in your mind, you thought how surprised you are by her level of English. It was very good indeed. Actually I noticed your necklace that you're wearing. You snapped back to reality and what you see in front of you as you grabbed your necklace and smiled widely. -

Don't you forget my beautiful girl - As you looked into her eyes, full of excitement. - The swan represents deep, true and lasting love. No matter what you see at home, no matter what you see outside, what you see anywhere around you, it doesn't hold the truth. You can decide what is true to you and what is not. Swan dies with her life partner. I found such love. You will feel it as well, when you will meet the right one. Just keep your eyes open, and hold your own truth. No matter what others tell you or show you. Even if they do it right in front of your eyes. It is an illusion. -

Ah yes, it was a gift. As you were smiling on the thing you were between your fingers, the little white swan, your eyes got a little bit sad. -

Have you seen her ass? You mean the waitress? Yeah. I'd love a hold of that. I have an idea. -

She asked you more questions about where are you from and what you are actually doing there and for how long. You told her practically everything. You felt like you could speak to her the whole evening and never get tired of it. You saw a mother figure in her. The mother you've always wanted. She has such a nice energy around her. Always genuinely smiling at you and listening to you dearly. Yet you didn't even notice that each member of that table was listening to you as well. Thinking nicely of you. When you came to an end of your long monologue about your decision to change your life, you looked around. Everyone was smiling at you. Expect for the guy that was sitting on the left, the closest to you. He wasn't even looking at you. At least you got the chance to take a proper look of him. Scanning his side profile. He was indeed…handsome. There was something about him, making him so manly. (He could definitely teach me a lesson in bed…wait what?) You gulped a little and looked back at the lady, who caught your attention on her son and looked back at him immediately. Smiling widely. As if SHE KNEW. From such situation you turned red as a tomato. As you wanted to talk yourself out of this situation and disappear, she started talking again. Your level of French is good. I wouldn't even recognize you are not native. Ah, thank you very much. My friend helped me a lot - you smiled. Your friend? Is it a man? (What?) Ehm, no. I live with my best friend Mary. I meant her. Ah, that is good. But your necklace is very beautiful. You said it was a gift? Yes, I got it from my aunt. I haven't seen her in years. She is living far away. I see. Sometimes it is hard not to see the people you love. But as long as you have them in your heart- I do, but still - I am glad I'm here in Monaco.

Suddenly someone bumped into you hard. You fell forward, right onto the guy. His face deep in your cleavage now. His hands up in the air and your palms all over his thighs. Making a temporary support for you. By your reflex, you wanted to get back obviously but you couldn't. Something was holding you back. Big hands. Squeezing your ass. The realization hit you hard. And your breasts were still making a point of interest number one for this guy. Each slight movement of you trying to desperately move away from his face, made you only moving from side to side since you couldn't go back - making his face a massaging tool for your breasts.

Hey! At this time you've heard Jean shouting. Thanks to that, the man let you and you finally felt free. You shifted back to a standing position. Looking back on the man furiously, trying to get hold of his face. But too late, you only saw his back and he was getting away fast. Jean shouted many swear words and told him to never come back. When he got the attention back to you, he walked toward you. Are you alright YN? he hold you by your shoulder. Ehm, yes. Of course. I'm fine. But.. mon dieu. What a…. Prick? Yes. I make sure he will never come back here again. We keep evidence of their names. You just nodded. Thanks Jean. Well your mood was certainly out of place. No doubt about that. The whole place was upside down, whenever your eyes wandered, you saw faces full of pity. And it made you feel even more anxious. You couldn't stay here for much longer. But you still knew you have one thing to do.

I am very sorry. I didn't mean to trip on you. Gesticulating with your hands towards the guy. It was embarrassing enough but he looked mad? His jaw tight. It appeared he wasn't even breathing for a sec. Well you certainly didn't have the time to argue with anyone and especially with this guy since this was not even your fault! As you were getting furious again, he spoke. It is not your fault - keeping his gaze in front of him. For the first you've heard his voice. Your mouth fell quite open as you were processing it, because - you liked his voice. The accent did something to you. Something you weren't paying so much attention right now, but late in the night, you will recall it for sure. You stopped to look at his lips. Waiting for him like he is about to say something. He intrigued you enough - (Why?) - and that made you uncomfortable. YN, right? - the old lady asked. You turned your gaze to her. I'm Pascale. Friend of Jean's is a friend of mine. She offered you a little smile. You smiled at her too, but honestly you wanted to be anywhere else but here. You got embarrassed enough.You felt dirty. So mostly from now on you kept your head down. Thinking of anything how to keep your mind occupied, your eyes cascading from one point to another, trying not to catch one of those pitiful faces around you. Crunching your fingers having them by your side was a bad habit of yours when you were nervous. As you inhaled and wanted to get back to work, Jean spoke up.

YN, we will be ok without you. What about I will take you home? you looked at him. Really? But - you still have many diners here. No, it is ok. We will manage somehow - offering you a weak smile. What about my son Charles taking you home? If it were be snapped on a camera shot, it would be hilarious to look at that. Everyone turned their heads towards Pascale in a second - looking shocked. But especially you since it was about you the most. Pascale's expression was like Hey, what are you looking at me like that? Well, Jean - you need to stay here. You are understaffed today. And since I am your friend and now YN's as well, I'd like to help you out, both of you. Charles has a car here, he will gladly take you home YN.

You just thought O-MY-GOD. You looked like you need a tequila shot. You tried for a polite smile, looking to the ground with your eyes wide open and answered I will then change to my clothes and wait outside - as you put your head up, you said goodbye to the whole table, offering a polite smile and thanked Pascale for her help. Jean kissed you on both cheeks and told you to call him if you need anything and that he will call you tomorrow about your money. You just nodded and went to change. -

Tu n'as pas de problème avec ça charles n'est-ce pas? Non non maman - Charles kissed her mom on cheeks. Said goodbye to everyone and kissed her girlfriend on the forehead. Saying he will be back shortly. As he stood up and went for his car, he felt that something's gonna change. -

(Perfect, as if it could get any worse.) You didn't have any particular problem with him. But he certainly had a problem with you. OBVIOUSLY. It was uncomfortable to you. Like right now you are put in a position of a small child being told what to do by her mum. You were mad at yourself for letting that happen. You could have said no. A simple NO. You titled your head as you were processing it. That is exactly why you got out of your hometown for this exact reason, not to be told what to do anymore.

You got out of the changing room and went for the exit. The warm yet colder air outside hit your face and you felt like you could finally breath. You inhaled deeply and let your body let loose. Taking a break from all the stress you've been put up with within the last few hours and let your body feel free. As you opened your eyes again, you saw Charles leaning back of his car looking at you, having sunglasses on. (Weird. As if the sun is on the horizon now haha) You concentrated on your steps as you were going down the stairs. -

As I was minding my own business, she caught my attention when appearing on the top of the stairs. I took a look at her. A proper look. She was standing there, her eyes closed and smiling a little to herself. She now looked more innocent, more calm than before. She kept still with her eyes closed. As she stayed there like this, it was like she was calling for me. Waiting for me to get her. I imagined her she is standing on top of the hill, waiting for me to come to her and take her orders. Serve her as she is supposed to be served. Help her fulfill her dreams, make every desire of hers possible. Like my whole life depends on it. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at me. Her gaze bore into mine even from afar. Yet I felt she is so close to me. Shivers went down my spine. I was watching how her beautiful white dress hugged her body, her waist, her hips, her thighs - yeah, she could definitely hug me with these when getting down on her… Her hair were let loose as well, getting played by the wind. Framing her face and revealing it all at the same time. Making me feel like she is a woman of many faces, beautiful faces. I was mesmerized. She really moved with grace. My body stiffened all of sudden the closer she got. When she finally got next to me, I cleared my throat and stood up properly. -

Charles opened the door for you - to your surprise. Oh why, thank you. You said nicely and smiled at him. He looked at you, slightly confused and like he is touched by your words. To his own astonishment he looked to the side and waited patiently for you to hop inside. Your smile slowly disappeared. (That is gonna be a long way to go). As you hopped inside, he closed the door and went to his side. You were suddenly feeling butterflies in your stomach. (What is happening?) You gulped a little and fidgeted. Hugging your thighs with your palms. Trying to focus on the material of your dress rather than his presence. Even though his presence was so attractive to you. Suddenly and thankfully a thought came to your mind - you don't even know in which car you are sitting right now. As Charles was starting the car, you asked. What is this car? You looked at him. He looked at you, still looking like you said something unforgivable. (Well this is cringe). Ferrari 488 Pista Spider. Oh, - you said - that is very specific. (more of like very cringe. Why are you being dumb now?) You titled your head. I mean, of course - you know your car. Tic tac, tic tac. Tic tac, tic tac. SILENCE. (Oh dear God, why am I stupid. Why do I care once again? It's not that I like him or something.) Do you want some music? he asked you. He got you out of your spiraling thoughts. Ehm - yeah, sure. Ok, you can choose the radio station. As he pointed out on to radio, turning it on. You moved forward feeling self conscious. Yet you were able to focus on the radio after a while. You paused switching the stations when you've heard a song from Two feet. One of your favorite interprets. In a second you started jamming to the sounds and humming together, while laying yourself back to the seat. After some time passed and looking outside the window you asked.

WAIT, How do you know where to go? as you looked back at him, little bit startled. Charles was not bothered at all by your tone, yet your question. You saw a smile creeping up on his face. Jean told me meanwhile you were changing. Ah. You nodded. It is true that Jean was asking you in which part of Monaco you live, for the very first time you two met at his mom's cafeteria. And Charles once again got you back from the inside of your mind. You like this music? Your eyes clicked from his face to the radio, back to him. Yes, I like this music. It is very…sensual. Plus it is still more about the background rather than the lyrics so I overhear it as much as possible and then I try to play it on the piano. They have indeed beautiful songs. - ….. - That is why I like them. They speak to me through emotions. - okey, wow, can we pause for a second? (Like when have I talked this much about music?) Your eyes back on the road trying to forget this whole situation. (Cazzo!) Shutting your eyes quickly. I actually understand you. I hear it as well. I just never got the chance to listen to them since I don't know them. But I believe in what you're saying. Really? - as you looked back at him. Yes, I play on the piano as well. That is when you were smiling again, genuinely. And he was too. (At least you found something in common if not anything else.) Still you decided to keep quiet from now on. Not wanting to talk about your emotions again at ALL. As you were getting closer to your place, you were getting more comfortable with the quietness between the two of you. But it hadn't stayed that way for so long.

Wait! What?! We are passed my place. You turned around to see the back of the car, looking through the back glass and trying to find a familiar street for you to tell him, where he needs to take a turn. -

As I was thinking about this whole situation, YN startled me with her attentive voice. - I loved her soft voice actually. She was nice to listen to, even when she was talking about her dress caressing her skin haha. She is funnily sometimes, which always gets me smiling a little. I'd listen to her for hours, I liked when she was talking about her story, it made her feel so human and to my surprise I focused on each words that left her lips. - She told me that we are past her place and we need to go back. As she was leaning backward, with her torso twisted and her chest facing me, I took a look. The sight relived in me the memory of today's diner. When she tripped on me, I've had her breasts all over my face. Feeling her softness and smelling her scent. A mix of a vanilla with jasmine wood, cinnamon and a little bit of honey. I was trying to figure it out for the rest of the diner. I knew for a fact that this is one the most amazing smell I've had the chance to be in interaction with it. But that disgusting man, If I wouldn't have my girlfriend by my side, I'd punch him in the face. I regret it now. I should have done it. But then again, my girlfriend's face haunts me. I see her in front of me. -

As you were searching for your way out, you took a peak at Charles just to see he is pissed. (What is this guy's problem??) As you sat back down, facing the window, you've told him exactly where to go.

Yes, there it should be fine. Charles parked in front of your building. As you were going after the handle Charles stopped you with his words Don't. You froze and waited for him. He got out, walked to your doors and opened them for you. You smiled you didn't know. Bating your eyes at him - again, something you weren't aware of. Thank you. You said shyly and softly. Charles was still standing in front of you. And slowly taking his sunglasses off. Is this your place? - pointing on the right. Yes. As you both looked towards the doors. When you looked back at him, you finally saw his eyes from the front. (Are they green or brown? Hard to tell when it's dark outside) What? - he asked you, getting you out of your thoughts. (Was I obvious??) Nothing haha. (Fuck) - Ok, thank you once again. I'm gonna head home. And please say thank you to your mum. I appreciate it so much. He just nodded. Leaning his left hand to hold your right arm, kissing you on the cheeks. When it comes to this form of greeting, you got used to it already, yet with him, it made you nervous. Smelling him and feeling him, your knees got a little weak. You'd definitely let him touch your lips with his. Wanting to feel his lips closer to yours. As you breathed some oxygen again, you were conscious your cheeks are turning red. A little smile creeping on your face. (Thank God it is dark outside.) Au revoir Au revoir, prends soin de toi take care You nodded and as you were walking to the doors, you reminded yourself to NOT look back yet you wanted so badly. When you got behind the doors, shutting your eyes, Charles went back to his car. Sat down and smiled for himself. Still feeling your scent in his car, looking on the seat where you were sitting. Wanting to see you there once again, next to him. He felt like a little boy, once again, smiling from ear to ear, feeling something he hasn't felt in a long time. He came alive again.

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Forgive me for the bad English, I'm using google translator. I'm really loving Daemon and his stepdaughter, could you do one in which Aegon or Viserys tries to play with one of the reader's daughters and one of the brothers gets jealous and hits him, I really wanted to see a jealous Rhaenyra demanding justice and Daemon protecting her sons and stepdaughter

A/N: I hope you like it! It's totally alright!

pairing: Dark!Daemon Targaryen x Stepdaughter!Reader

summary: Aegon or Viserys tries to play with one of the reader's daughters and one of the brothers gets jealous and hits him, I really wanted to see a jealous Rhaenyra demanding justice and Daemon protecting her sons and stepdaughter

Word count: 1,2K

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"What are you doing?" You looked up from the cloth in between your fingers. Daemon stood a couple of feet away from you leaning against the back of the chair in front of you. You smiled brightly at the sight of your beloved husband.

"I am attempting at make a shirt for Baeron" You answered, holding up the piece of cloth that resembled a shirt but with no sleeves.

"Our child will get hypothermia in that" Daemon teased moving to sit down on the chair. A glare grew on your face much to his amusement.

"I am still not done with it, husband" You replied, hugging the cloth to yourself. Daemon's laugh boomed around the room making you giggle as well. Your eyes trailed to the side where your mother was sat with your brother Jacaerys as Aegon and Jacaella played with each other and surprisingly Maelor was sat to the side with your mother.

"I am sure it will be perfect, you did sew all of Jacaella's clothing as a babe" Daemon earned your attention again. Your heart melted at his soothing words, it almost made you melt right then and there.

"Yes, although I have not found time to do the same for the rest of our children since they kept coming" You joked. Daemon chuckled, pushing himself off the chair and moved over to your chair crouching down placing a hand on your knee.

"I can give you another if that is what you desire" Daemon drummed his finger letting them slide up your thigh teasingly. One of your hands came down slapping his own, not strong enough to hurt though.

"No, I think six is enough, an even number of boys and girls" You dismissed the idea. Daemon's lip pouted pulling at your heart strings but you will not yield besides this man had ten children, what more did he want from you?

"No Daemon" You were firm this time around. Daemon huffed exactly like Valeron does when he does not get what he wants, his father's son.

"Maelor!" You both jumped at the sound of your mother shouting angrily. Daemon moved to stand in a flash and you threw the cloth on the floor also jumping to your feet. Jacaerys was holding Jacaella as she cried while your brother Aegon was sitting on the floor looking shocked but what made your blood boil was how your mother was towering down over your son holding his bicep in what looked like a very tight grip.

"What has happened?" Daemon asked. He moved close to the scene also noting the way your mother was holding your son. You moved over to Aegon helping him up from the floor before also turning to your mother.

"Maelor pushed Aegon to the floor" She answered. She glared at Daemon but moved her gaze giving the same glare to the six namedays boy.

"Let him go, I will scold him and teach him that he should not do that" You moved closer to your mother and took hold of your son's arm gently. She did not let go though and instead she glared at you.

"He needs to be punished, not scolded" She shook his small body as if he were a ragged doll.

"Rhaenyra!" Daemon yelled making you all freeze. Your mother had let go of Maelor shocked at the tone Daemon was using with her now.

"Daddy, Maelor only wanted to help, Aegon was pulling my hair" Jacaella sobbed. She barely found the bravery to peek out from Jacaerys' chest to look her father before hiding again.

"That is not excuse for him to push Aegon down" Your mother hissed. Aegon moved closer to you hugging your waist as you stepped back with your son also hugging your waist. One of your hands moved to comfort your son while the other moved to comfort your brother.

"You are a real hypocrite you know-" Daemon stepped closer to your mother almost in a threatening way.

"-you want to punish a child for a mere push to protect his sister but refused to punish another for pulling out the eye of another" Daemon looked your mother up an down in disgust. You shivered at the memory of Aemond loosing his eye. You had been there trying to break up the fight and ended up unharmed but the nightmares were still there.

"It was a different situation" Your mother tried to defend. Her eyes caught sight of Aegon seeking your comfort instead of hers making her realise that maybe she may have overdone it.

"Tis not! One was your son hurting your brother and now tis your son hurting your granddaughter" Daemon pointed at the children. Aegon sobbed against your hip feeling fear of the fight going on between his father and mother.

"I did not mean to! My finger got caught in her hair" Aegon tried justifying. You shushed him with a small kiss on his hair line making his tense muscles relax a little.

"He is your son as well" Rhaenyra ignored her son's words glaring heatedly at her husband, your husband.

"He is and I would die for him but if he were to have done something wrong I would teach him that it is wrong, not spoil him y demanding justice when he should be the one being punished" Daemon replied. You knew that he would have done the same if it were your child who had down so.

"You would punish your own child?" Your mother seemed to be on the verge of a heart attack, eyes as wide as possible and her chest heaved for breath.

"I would but this situation requires no punishment" Daemon responded. He turned to face you and the two children hugging you. He crouched down to their height gentle.

"Come here you two" He ordered. The two boys let go of you and faced their father hesitantly.

"Apologise to one another" He demanded. The two boys turned to look at one another almost shyly.

"I am sorry, Aeg, I did not meant to hurt you" Maelor spoke up first. You had taught him to always admit when he was wrong, that was what a true king should do and it was your job to teach your heir so.

"I am sorry too" Aegon responded twiddling with his fingers shyly.

"Now Aegon, apologise to your sister for hurting her" Daemon pointed at Jacaella. She pulled away from Jacaerys wiggling for him to place her back on the ground while she rubbed the tears away from her eyes.

"I'm sorry Jacy I did not mean to hurt you" Aegon walked over to hug her. She accepted the hug happily wrapping her small arms around him with a smile on her face.

"Tis alright! Do you want to play hide and seek?" She asked brightly. She pulled away to look at her uncle/brother.

"I would like that, Maelor would you like to join?" Aegon turned to his brother. Maelor nodded his head and moved to follow the two leaving the room.

"You should teach your child not to use violence next time" Your mother seethed with anger.

"Maelor used anger because he was jealous, he was sulking the entire time and I think he used the hair pull as an excuse for the violent act" Jacaerys explained. You and Daemon turned to look at each other, you were worried while Daemon only smirked brightly.

"Ah I see how it is then" Was all Daemon replied laughing to himself but you could not find it in yourself to join him, instead you eyed your mother who was still glaring angrily at you.

[123pixieaod]

Tried to write a fun little fic about why Daniel unfollowed on Instagram Zak, Michael, Fernando, and Nicki, the most random quartet possible, only to end up with this lol

Daniel finally answers a call at just gone 4.30am, Max's time. It's 5.30am, Daniel's time, which admittedly is only marginally better, but maybe the hospital he's in has some crazy Get-Up-And-Seize-The-Day sort of ethos. Although from what Christian has told him, Daniel might not be seizing anything, metaphorically or otherwise, for some time.

"Daniel," Max says as soon as he hears the line clicking through. "How are you? How do you feel? Is your wrist alright? Do the doctors and nurses take care of you, do they speak English, or did Red Bull send a Spanish translator and I hope I have not woken you up and-"

He cuts himself off. There's a sort of stunned silence on the other side of the line. Sometimes, Max thinks his need for Daniel is a bottomless pit, something that has hollowed him out and leaves an ache echoing through him.

"Max?" Daniel says, incredulous. High, drugged up, gone on pain medication. "How did you get into my phone?!"

Max squeezes his eyes shut. His mouth is twisted, making some shape. A smile, a frown? He doesn't know, nobody can see him in his old childhood bedroom.

He wants to be with Daniel. He wants to brush a hand through his curls and run his fingertips along the lines of his faded tattoos like how a child would first begin to trace letters and numbers.

I miss you, he wants to say

I want you

I need you

"I'm not in your phone," he says instead, tone light and soft. "I called you. I am in the Netherlands."

"Oh," Daniel says, as if the fact Max had not been magically transformed into his phone is mildly disappointing. "What are you doing there?"

"We had a race, remember?" Max says. He's stretched out on his old bed. His feet dangle just slightly off the edge, and each year, he's promised a new one, bigger and larger and finally a grown-up bed. But it never materialises and Max has stopped bringing it up now.

The room is unchanged. Around him, the faces of former racing legends watch him, tapped to his wall. Above, stars look down, stuck to his ceiling in haphazard patterns. The day his father got to play God and created universes and cosmos splayed above his head.

"Of course," Daniel huffs good naturedly. "You won, Maxy."

"I know," Max replies softly.

"It was your ninth consecutive win," Daniel continues, his tone strong and proud, as if it's Daniel who has achieved it. Maybe he's so high on meds he thinks it is, that him and Max are some sort of Jeckyl and Hyde being, two sides of the same life. Max doesn't know. A headache is building behind his eyes. He hasn't really slept since Friday, three days previous.

"You're now equalling Sebastian Vettle. If you win the next race, you'll beat the record." Daniel continues before pausing, as if realisation is only just dawning. "I don't think I'll be there."

"No," Max murmurs. "I don't think you will be either."

"My wrist is really fucked," Daniel goes back to his jubilant tone, like a child with the best show and tell in school. "I have a metal plate in it, isn't that neat?"

He laughs. Max closes his eyes, just listening to the sound. "Imagine if it goes off at every airport security, Maxy? How annoying with that be?" He laughs again, the prospect sounding delightful to him in that very moment.

Max hums softly, and then shifts on the bed, turning away from the stars his father hung up for him. Instead, he moves to his side, facing a giant poster of Micheal Schumacher celebrating one of his championships. At the bottom, Max, to great things! MS. He was six. It was one of the best Christmas presents his dad had ever gotten him.

"How do you feel?" He asks. Daniel is humming a tune under his breath, the theme song to some gameshome Max barely recognises. He stops at Max's question.

"Good," he says happily. "I have gained deep clarity."

That shocks a laugh out of Max, as only Daniel, even doped, drugged Daniel, can do. The longing feels physical, the hole never ending in his chest. He closes his eyes, blocking out the stars and racing legends whose shine has faded and whose records he's now beating.

In another life, he thinks, he would be there. He'd be the first face Daniel would see, the first hand he'd get to hold, the first for nearly everything, just like Daniel had been for Max.

But instead they're a time zone apart and Daniel is alone in a country where he can't even speak the language and Max is in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by his family who are fast sleep and utterly oblivious to the fact he's gay, let alone in a relationship with Daniel Ricciardo.

"Clarity," Max forces his mind back on track. "How so?"

"Oh you know," Daniel says with ease. "Cleared my mental space."

Max huffs another laugh. His chest aches, empty. He wonders does Daniel know how hollowed out he is without him.

"Go on."

"Well, I deleted a shit ton of apps. That wellness app you made me download last year? Sorry Maxy, but that went," Daniel makes a popping noise. "And the fertility tracking app Scotty downloaded at his bachelor's party."

"Presumably he just got his and your phones mixed up, right?"

"No Maxy, it was a prank because I -" Daniel breaks away, finally understanding, laughing as if Max has made the funniest joke possible.

"Okay so you cleared up some space on your phone," Max prompts him.

"Oh yes, and then deleted twitter and went to WhatsApp and left about a billion groups and then I went to Instagram, and went through who I followed, and unfollowed tons of people."

"Oh? Did I make the cut?"

Daniel tutts as if Max is being purposefully dense.

"Naturally Maxy. In fact, I sort of debated unfollowing everyone except you, but then figured you might've been pissed at me."

Max can't tell if Daniel is joking or not. He doesn't know which he wants it to be.

"So firstly I unfollowed a bunch of people I had met years ago at business deals and stuff, and then Craig and Rebecca from school because I never really liked them anyway and they definitely never liked me and then Zak because the vibes were Not It and then my high-school teacher who I definitely only ended up following on a dare and -"

"Zak," Max says, picking out the familiar name in the sea of chatter. "As in Zak Brown?"

Daniel hums. "Yeah, the vibes were Not It. And then I also unfollowed Fernando -"

"Alonso?" Max splutters out another laugh of disbelief. "What on earth did he do to you?"

"I don't like how he acts around you."

"Me?!" Max voice goes up an octave. "What? But he's always nice to me Daniel. I like him."

"I know Max, that's the point," Daniel says, and before Max can even begin to comprehend what he means, he's continuing. "And then also Richard, from McLaren because I swear he used to tell Zak everything I did and then Michael, and then Sam, this old hookup, and -"

"Michael," Max cuts in, sure he's mistaken, "as in ..."

"Yeah," Daniel says after a beat. "That Michael."

Max swallows. Michael has been a constant strain on their relationship, the fly in the otherwise smooth ointment. Max had told Daniel he wasn't good for him, he wasn't looking after him. That friendship and business rarely mixed, and that in this case, it had congealed into something of neither, a strange, interdependent relationship which drained them both.

Daniel had said Max hadn't understood it, hadn't gotten how much Michael helped him, how good it was to have a physico who was also his mate. Max replied by saying that as far as he was concerned, Michael was proving himself to be neither.

Jealousy. That was what Daniel had pinned to him, had washed all rationality away with. Max was jealous.

He remembers feeling like he had been slapped. Jealousy. Fucking jealousy.

He never mentioned Michael again.

"But," Max begins slowly, mind whirling. "You had lunch with him last week." Even though you never mentioned it, even though I had to find out through fans' blurry photos.

"Yeah," Daniel draws the syllable out. "But... the vibes were not immaculate."

"Right," Max says, hating how terse the single word sounds. And the vibes were fine when he encouraged you to do that fucked up intermittent fasting? When he recommended yoga and gym sessions instead of therapy?

"And then I unfollowed Nicky Latifi, because unfortunately, he's going to do a masters in London, and following him online will simply remind me of all the missed possibilities I had in the academic world," he goes on.

"Daniel," Max says, trying to force his mind to move on, Daniel has unfollowed Michael Daniel has unfollowed Michael. "You dropped out of school when you were seventeen. In the most loving of ways, I would hardly call you an up and coming scholar."

"Details, Maxy," he says, but then goes quiet, and so does Max. He opens his eyes. His room is painted in shadows, sunrise still distant. The trophies he won as a child are carefully displayed in neat rows, their plaques opaque with dust, now thick and heavy. He remembers winning them, young and already starving for more, remembers the weight of plastic, the way sugary pop soda dried sticky on his skin.

"I think you were right," Daniel says softly. Max nods, face pressed against his pillow.

"I mean about him. Michael."

"I know who you meant," Max murmurs.

"Okay good, because you're definitely not write about my academic prowess, I was one hundred percent on track to be this world's Stephen Hawkens."

Max laughs softly. "It's Hawking not Hawken."

"Once again Maxy, details."

There's another exhale of quiet between them, and outside Max hears the world beginning to rise. Birds waking, their whistles winding their way through the crack in his window.

"I miss you," he says softly, as if the words are barely permitted to be spoken aloud.

"I love you too Maxy," Daniel replies with ease. Then - "you should come. I think it would be nice. If you were here too."

"I think so too," Max says. The longing grows. The trophies are dusty on his shelf, forgotten. His feet hang off his childhood bed. Birds begin to sing.

"So will you?" Daniel persists. Max squeezes his eyes shut.

"I don't know. I do not think you would be saying this if you weren't off your head on pain meds," he tries to joke. His chest aches. Hollowed out, always wanting more than he's allowed.

"Of course I would," Daniel says confidently, even though he ends it with a yawn. "I anyways want you around."

Max keeps his eyes still tightly shut. He tucks his knees up, bringing them to his chest. When he was very young and his parents were still together, he'd do this. Curl up on the bed with his eyes squeezed closed. The door shut, their shouts muffled; as distant as the bird song is to him now.

"Maxy?"

His sister said the same. Maxy? Climbing on his bed, tugging at his arms. What are they talking about? Nothing, nothing, it doesn't matter.

"How's your wrist?" Max asks. He opens his eyes - the room has grown lighter, dawn finally creeping in.

"Good," Daniel says, already forgotten what he said. Like a butterfly, moving onto the next topic, nothing permanent. "Sore. I'm on some strong shit though." He laughs. It sounds so near.

Max imagines it. He could do it. Book the ticket to Spain. It wouldn't even be that bad. People know him and Daniel are mates, and mates visit each other in hospital. And that's if it even comes out, which it might not. Nobody has to know.

"I love you," he blurts out, cheeks warm. Daniel laughs again, soft and delighted.

"Good, because my right hand is currently out of action, so I might need help over the next few weeks with a few particular things."

Max laughs, cheeks warm. He's not being quiet any more. His family can probably hear him through the walls, just like he could hear his parents all those years ago.

He can imagine his sister asking him, echoing their childhood as she questions him on words she's grasped through walls. This time, though, he thinks he will tell her the truth.

"I've heard Spain is very beautiful at the end of August," he says.

Daniel hums, "I've heard something similar, Maxy."

Outside, birds sing. The dawn continues on, filling the emptiness of night.