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eustasskidagenda · 6 months

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anon asked: Hi! I just read your Kid, Zoro, Law & Sanji hc with a s/o afraid of having sex and I just loved it! Your writing is amazing and I really enjoyed it. I struggle with vaginismus so I pretty much know how stressful this situation could be. But I’m actually curious to request you the same hc but with much BIGGER boys, especially Doflamingo, Crocodile and Katakuri. Please feel free to add other big men bc I honestly can’t get enough of them.😭😭😭

Hi hi! So I feel really dumb because I accidentally deleted the request, but luckily, I had copied/pasted the text of my doc before. But sorry, anon D: Anyway, thank you so much for liking my work and for requesting! That was pretty fun to write. I decided to add King and the sweet Corazon. And before starting, please have a look at this, lol. Those guys are so BIG, help.

☆Doflamingo, Crocodile, Katakuri, King & Corazon with a s/o afraid of having sex

CW (generals) : smut, MDNI, v!sex, f!reader, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), size kink

WC : Oh my God, I got carried away... 4,3k. Enjoy. :D

⇢ You can read the part one here & the part three here

Doflamingo

CW : a lot of teasing, creative use of devil fruit, slight praise, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, pet name

Doflamingo is, let's say, complicated. Of course, he considers you as a part of the Donquixote family, and he cares deeply about his close ones. But, on the flip side, he can't help but love when people are stressed or afraid because of him. It plays with his constant need for dominance. So first, he would grin, almost laugh, and be extremely pleased with himself. "My poor little bird is afraid… because of my size?" While running his fingers along the length of his cock through his pants. "I'll make it good for you, don't worry, just leave it to me."

Doflamingo craves dominance, so he would be more than satisfied with this situation, his eyes roaming over your body with eagerness. He's a really patient man and also loves to play and tease you all the time. "Lay down comfortably on the bed." He would say, placing his heavy, large hands on either side of your hips, slowly pushing you down on the mattress, his eyes shining with nothing but pure desire.

He loves how tiny your body looks when he's towering over you. It makes you look so vulnerable. Oh, sure, he loves when his s/o is smaller than him. Again, it plays with his constant need of domination. He finds it fascinating that he could destroy you with one hand. Luckily, you're his precious bird, so he would probably play with you and inflict some pain on you, but only what you're able and willing to take.

His hands would be surprisingly feather-light while running all over your body, tracing all of your curves, and fondling your breasts. Then, pinching your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index, delighted by all of your shivering and sighs.

"Mh, you're so needy, y/n" with a low, teasing laugh as he slowly runs his fingers down your trembling thighs, tracing along the sensitive skin before slowly, really slowly reaching for your wet folds. He would smile, his eyes fixed on your pussy, fascinated by how needy you are already for him. But that's not enough. He is eager for more. "So pretty"

He would begin to tease you mercilessly, tracing soft patterns on your inner thighs and lower-belly. He likes to play with anticipation. He's not the kind of man who just roughly and mechanically slides his fingers inside you. Without teasing, there's no fun.

The more you squirm and moan, the more he's pleased, watching your pussy becoming more and more wet.

"So eager already." Purring close to your ears, making you shiver even more, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your spine. "What should I do now? What do you want y/n, my tongue or my fingers?"

You'll have both in the end, so don't worry.

It's clear that Doflamingo has mastered using his long tongue. And the same applies to his fingers always fidgeting when he uses his devil fruit. He's probably a master when it comes to fingering and oral sex. So he would slowly sink between your thighs, licking your soft skin before finally allowing you to feel his tongue against your sensitive folds, keeping your thighs open enough for him with his heavy hands.

You just can't help but arch your back as he eats you out, turning you into a whining and moaning mess. He would drink your juice as if it was a precious wine. "That's it", humming against your slit, licking your clit. Slowly, he would slide a thick finger inside of you. His mind would probably be a bit dizzy, thinking about how good he would feel with his cock inside of your tightness.

"You're so responsive, little bird," before adding another finger and hitting that sweet spot, still licking your clit.

And he won't stop until you cum all over his tongue and fingers. "Good girl"

With eyes darkened with desire, he would finally removing his pants, his heavy and extremely long cock springing free, leaking in pre-cum and twitching in anticipation. You can't help but look at his length, stressed. "Do you like looking at my big cock, little bird? Does it turn you on to know that I'm going to fuck you senseless?" So sure, he would grin again before lying on his back and letting you ride him.

He perfectly knows how to control himself so he won't just push roughly while you line your pussy with his cockhead, trying to brace yourself-up. You definitely want to do it, but you feel nervous. "Need some help, little bird?"

As you nod, he would use his devil fruit to guide you. With one broad hand wrapping around your waist and the other guiding the strings, he would slowly force your hips to move down, impaling you on his breathtaking thickness, his eyes sparkled with mischief. That's the moment you would see him lose his grin as he can't handle how tight and wet you feel all around him. "So tight…"

"You can take more?" As long as you tell him to keep going, he would continue to guide your hips down his length, groaning softly, with his hand fondling the flesh of your waist. "That's it, take it, take it all."

As you start to moan, he would say "What's up little bird, you love how well I am stretching you?"

And as you slowly get used to his cock stretching your walls, his cock throbbing inside you, Doflamingo would nicely use his strings to guide you moving up and down, delighted by the sloshing noises. The way your core swallows his length would be mind-blowing for him. The sight of your wetness covering his cock every time you move up and down is something he would love to see more often. Be prepared to entertain your king again.

Crocodile

CW : slight domination kink, praises, he's smoking because well it's Crocodile, oral sex (Crocodile receiving), slight hair pulling, using of his hook in a slight creative way but nothing extreme, belly bulge, unprotected sex

Another DILF and dominant man.

Crocodile is a silent man. So the second you tell him you're nervous because it's been a while since the last time you had sex and that you're also nervous because he's both long and thick, he would just raise an eyebrow. Just like Doflamingo, he would love the feeling of you being intimidated, because Crocodile definitely has a thing (and a kink) for dominance. He likes when you acknowledge his rank and qualities.

"You're afraid because of my size?"

He would lead your hand until you reached his cock. "If you're nervous, then you have to become familiar with it." So he would feel the girth and the veins, breathing deeply, delighted by the sight of your small hands trying to correctly wrap his thickness. "That's it, y/n. Touch it and get used to it. Soon, it will be all within you."

He would talk with his usual deep, raspy, and calm voice, the one that always sends shivers down your spine. And sure, he would act all dominant, smoking his cigar while you try so hard to satisfy him. Of course, he would look down at you. You are in his hands. So let go of all your intrusive thoughts and just focus on him. Only him.

"Suck it."

He would watch closely as you try to wrap your tongue around his cock, tracing all the veins, and licking hungrily all the pre-cum leaking from his cockhead. He would grab a hand from your hair with his heavy and broad hand, leading your head back and forth, while watching you drool and struggle to breathe all over his cock. He would slowly lose his composure, sighing huskily, unable to handle how cute you look with your mouth full of his cock, trying to figure out how to take more of his length. He would find the sight of his member glistening with your saliva to be quite entertaining.

"That's a good girl. Come get your rewards."

The moment he blows out his cigar and removes his rings, you know the real deal is about to start.

He would likely use his large hook, carefully running the sharpened tip along the soft skin of your stomach. Before slowly leaving a trail of kisses along your neck. Avoid running your hands through his hair and stay still like the good girl you are. Otherwise, he might punish you with a hard pinch on your nipple and a rough slap on your ass cheeks.

Slowly but surely, then, he would reach your inner thighs and then your pussy. He would eat you out with his hand holding your thighs apart. He would you lick your pussy in a classy way, not like a vulgar starving. He would be fond of all your moaning and incoherent mumbling as you can't handle how good it feels. "You won't cum until I say so." While circling your clit with his thumb, teasing you, drinking your juice. Your shivering and tremblings are both entertaining and satisfying. Crocodile rarely goes down on someone, but when he does… oh, it's quite mesmerizing.

"Stay still" if you start to squirm because of how good it feels.

And, once you're finally reduced to a whining mess, he would use his hook to grab one of your thighs, pushing them apart, spreading your legs wide enough to fit in between. "Spread your legs for me." He would put a pillow under your back while manhandling you. And then, again, he would use his hook to slightly raise your upper body, until your pussy is lined with his cock.

"Can you take it?"

He would enter you in one go as soon as you nodded. Not in a forceful way, but he doesn't see the point of taking a lot of breaks. Once his cock is buried deep inside you, he will soothe your trembling thighs by running his hand along your lower-stomach, feeling the bulge created by his cock. "Good girl. You're taking me so well." He would likely hold your legs tightly, trying to fight his own desire to fuck you roughly.

He's a patient man, so he'll wait until you're ready for him to start thrusting.

So deep and slow at the same time while he stretches you further, his cock throbbing and twitching. Not a grunter, but a pretty deep breath as you tighten around him. For this occasion, he will spare you from his usual roughness. But next time… you better be ready.

Katakuri

CW : The reader is smaller than him, but there's not a BIG size difference, food play, unprotected sex

"I know, love." Yes, he would speak before you even have time to express your fears. Blame it on his haki. Katakuri has a lot of sisters, so he would be well-aware of those kinds of thoughts. If you're nervous, he would take some time to ask why, making sure to fully understand the situation.

"I'll take care of you, everything will be alright." Despite his lack of words, you have faith in him. He's aware of the future, so if he says it's going to be fine, you can trust him and it's already really soothing.

The Sweet Commander is a gentleman and he's aware of size. He would never just slam into you, especially not if you're already afraid. Before even thinking of reaching for your pussy, he would start with a lot of soft kisses all along your neck, and then on your breasts, sucking on your nipples, pinching them nicely. He just loves your breasts. They feel soft under his palms. He could spend hours worshipping your chest. As you slowly arch your back, moaning softly, and relaxing under his touch, he would continue to kiss your stomach, honoring every inch of your body.

You're so beautiful. Despite his quietness, his eyes would be brimming with pride. Being intimate with such a beautiful woman like you fills him with pride. "You're doing great."

His voice would always be calm and deep, as usual. The control he has over himself is quite mesmerizing.

And well, Katakuri probably has a food play kink, so he would love to devour your body covered in cream. So intoxicating. Your body tastes amazing. The taste of sugar is also amazing. Both? Total heaven.

He would then sink his head between your thighs, eating you out like your pussy was one of his dearest donuts. He'd like nothing more than to please you, so feel free to guide him. Katakuri being both smart and observant, he would quickly learn all of your sweet spots, turning you into a whiny moan, begging for more.

If you don't tell him to stop, he could eat you out for hours. He can't help it; it feels so good and you taste so good. He would drink your juice, circling your clit with his thumb and wouldn't stop until you cum against his lips.

"So good."

He would take advantage of your wetness and dizzy mind from your orgasm to slowly push one thick and long finger inside you. It's so tight and warm that he would struggle to keep his calm composure. Especially because his haki showed him some really nice pictures of what's going to happen.

As long as you need him to continue, Katakuri would honestly just pamper you with kisses and caresses. He knows how big he's, so you have to tell him when you're ready to take him.

Katakuri would keep your thighs apart with an impatient hand, exposing your wet folds to his eyes. He would look hungrily. His cock twitching crazily in impatience, leaking in anticipation. "You're ready?"

He already knows the answer, but Katakuri is a gentleman and cares a lot about consent. It doesn't matter if his observation haki shows him everything in advance.

Katakuri would intertwine his fingers with yours before slowly easing his cock into you in one go. A slow, but steady one. And as he fills you up to the brim, he would lose his composure and sigh in relief. Your pussy feels like heaven around his cock. It's a perfect blend of tightness, warmth, heat, and wetness. "Y/N, you feel amazing."

He would adjust his pace to what you're capable of. If you need him to slow down, he will. And he would be more than happy to comply if you asked him to be rougher. He is here to satisfy you. And you will be satisfied. Reduced to a shivering, moaning mess. The way his fat cock slowly slides in and out and hits all your sweet spots is just too good. It's such a delight to see the big, stoic Katakuri looking his composure because of your body…

King

CW : The reader is smaller than him, but there's not a BIG size difference, kind of blindfold kink I guess (?), slight spanking, unprotected sex

Even with you, King doesn't like to show his face. He struggles with intimacy. Your confession would make him feel embarrassed. What is he supposed to do? He was about to fuck you without any further thought, but now he needs to take more consideration.

He would slap your thigh with a sigh. "Turn around."

While slowly lying on your stomach and complying, he would slowly remove his heavy mask, running a hand through his beautiful white hair. But you don't have the right to watch. The only thing you're allowed to do is imagine. You've already seen his face. So you close your eyes and imagine his beautiful, almost mesmerizing beauty in your mind: brown skin, white hair, and an expression that is both cold and determined.

He would make you feel. Feel his mouth licking and kissing your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Wet kisses. His hair would softly caress your skin as he devoured the back of your neck, his big hands roaming along your waist to keep you steady. "Stay still" he would always speak with his lips near your ear, enjoying all of your shivering.

And suddenly, he would yank your panties or just push them asides, eating you out from behind, spreading your thighs. "Get on your all fours," he would command, just to have a better view of your glistening folds, before sinking back between your legs. He would keep your cheeks spread and lap at your pussy, intoxicated by your moans, your taste, smell, and how you feel against his lips. You're arched for him, exposed, so beautiful.

Even if he eats you out, he would love to spank your ass every time you squirm, forcing you to stay still. "Don't move and let me eat you out." He can sense that you're tense. And he doesn't understand why because usually, he can slide into you with ease. But he would take his time, fingering you, rubbing your clit, turning you into an almost crying, whimpering mess.

He would obligingly ignore his cock, twitching and throbbing in anticipation, taking his time to work on your tightness, stroking your back. "Shh, it's alright, we'll take our time."

He would love to watch how beautiful you are, with your ass up and chest against the mattress, and your head buried in a pillow. What a stunning sight. The way your pussy is messing up on the bedsheets is quite stunning.

He would use the fact you're unable to see him to his advantage, teasing you, running his fingers along your slit, then rubbing his cockhead, mixing his pre-cum with your wetness. "Please…"

Please keep begging, it's a lullaby to his ears.

And finally, he would grab your hips firmly, filling you up to the hilt in one go, hitting your cervix. He would fight against his own desire to destroy you by digging into your soft flesh with his fingers. His strong grip would leave bruises on your skin tomorrow.

With his huge cock nestled deep inside you, almost splitting you in half, he would let out a shaky breath. So good. So intoxicating. As you lie down, at his mercy, the sight of his cock slowly thrusting in and out of your tight hole, all stretched out around his thickness... it's too much to handle. As he plows into you from behind, he would moan. His member, all glistening and shining, covered in your wetness, the way your ass is swallowing him...

He just can't.

His hands would be glued to your ass cheeks all the time. "You keep sucking me in, it won't let me go."

He would try his best to stay nice. Stretching you out slowly. Even with slow strokes, his size is so overwhelming that it drives you crazy. Holding onto the bedsheets, closing your eyes, all you're allowed to do is imagine his jaw tightly clenched and his muscular body looming over you.

"Does it feel good, Y/N?"

The instant you say yes and he feels you loose around his thickness, he will smash into you roughly, grunting loudly, slapping your ass, intoxicated by your you. And you alone.

Corazon

CW : Body worship, praises, face sitting, protected sex, wholesome, soft sex

To end on a sweet note, the lovely Rosinante.

Let's assume it's your first time ending up in the same bed. Rosinante is always kind to you, and you know he won't do anything to hurt you. But still, if you explain to him you're nervous because he's big and also because you're always a bit stressed when it comes to sex… then, Rosinante would just be even more sweet.

"Sweetie, we'll take it slow. You trust me?"

He would be both careful and nervous due to his goofiness. What if he just falls on you? What if he crushes you with his weight? What if... oh, no, he's thinking too much again, his hands twitching on your body.

"It's okay Rosi, I trust you."

As you ease him down, he would kiss every nook and cranny of your body: neck, collarbone, breasts, stomach, belly button,... leaving red lipstick streaks all over.

His large, heavy, and yet kind hands would hungrily roam your figure, your shoulders, learning each of your curves, scars, and every single part that makes you, you. He would make you love everything you hate about yourself, making you feel safe and loved.

His hands would be soft and heavenly as he fondled your breasts, mesmerized by how warm and soft they felt against his big palms. Well, he's still goofy, so he might accidentally pinch you or scratch your nipple, apologizing again and again with wet puppy eyes.

And slowly, his hands and mouth would continue to explore your skin, kissing your lower stomach, and slowly reaching for your damping wet panties. "So wet for me."

He's genuinely amazed. Rosinante would be in awe: does he attract you so much? He just wants to smile warmly at you.

He would accidentally rip your panties apart, and then apologizes again. Please, just laugh or reassure him. After all, his goofiness is adorable.

He would be incredibly sweet if you're a bit nervous about exposing yourself fully to him. "Sweetie, I swear you're mesmerizing. So perfect and beautiful, I want to love every inch of your skin". While slowly running his hands along your inner thighs. "It's alright, sweetie. Just open your legs for me. Can you do this for me?"

If you're still nervous, then Rosinante would lie down and allow you to sit on his face with your wet pussy pressed against his lips. Rosinante would love to eat you out while rubbing his hands along your back, ass, and thighs. Soft kisses on your clit, hungry tongue drinking your juice while it flows down on his chin.

He would gently massage your bottom while slowly sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue. Rosinante would just love to have your thighs squeezing his cheeks. Move, all you want against his tongue, all he wants is to satisfy you and soothe all of your worries. His focus will only be on you, regardless of how hard his cock is.

He would slowly slide a thick finger inside you, curling it nicely to hit that sweet spot, making sure you're ready and aware of what's happening. The way you moan his name and use his mouth as you please is mesmerizing.

With two fingers gently stretching out, Rosinante would continue to worship your body with his hands and tongue. He's probably trying to hide his coughs because he's suffocating with his face stuck between your thighs. But who cares. The way you taste is like heaven.

If you want to cum, he would allow you to cum against his lips. If you want to stop before reaching ecstasy, that's okay too.

"I'm ready for you, Rosi."

Totally flushed and nervous, Rosi would let you ride him. He's too stressed by his goofiness, so it's better if you take the lead. And at least, you can control the rhythm and depth.

Rosinante would definitely use a condom. But, he would struggle to open the packaging and then roll the protection over his length due to his nervousness, excitement, and goofiness. His big, shaking hands would likely cause him to split one or two condoms. Please, help this poor boy.

The shows continue with the lube. It's likely that he would let the bottle to fall, spilling all of the liquid onto both your belly and his hands. "I'm so sorry, sweetie!" And he would stupidly try to steal some lube from your stomach to smear it over his length. You can't help but laugh warmly, caressing his hair. "It's okay Rosi, relax."

His heart melts as you straddle him, his length twitching and leaking wildly. He's big, both in length and girth, and he's aware of it. He would allow you to take all of your time to prepare yourself. The way he looks at you tells how much he cares about you and how honored he feels to have you by his side.

"Whenever you want, Y/N" with his deep, soothing and soft voice.

As he feels your tight entrance against his cockhead, he would bite his lips, grabbing the bedsheets tightly. Because he would never dare hold you roughly and leave bruises on your body. When he sees that you're still a bit nervous, he would sit up while you're still straddling him. He would slowly raise your hips before easing his cock inside you. Pushing gently, each inch, slowly yet steadily. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you, you're taking me so well. You're so perfect for me."

He would hold you tightly as you sit down on his lap, your breasts pressed against his chest. "It's okay sweetie, you're doing great, it's okay, almost there, just a little more, you feel so good around me." With his hands squeezing your hips to keep you still.

His entire body would be shaking. The sensations are overwhelming for both of you. You're so tight, so wet, and his huge cock is stretching you so nicely, throbbing inside you.

He would soothe your back gently as he finally penetrates you fully, his large size stretching you out even further. "There it's over. Look at you, taking all of my cock so well. You're such a brave girl. "

He would slowly guide your hips up and down, unable to handle how good it feels. " I've got you, let me take care of you."

A lot of kisses, soft, heavenly touches, his breath deep against your breath as he continues to slide gently yet firmly inside you. He would praise you all the time, worshiping your body. A bit goofy from time to time, loweering you to roughly down his cock, scratching you or biting your lips instead of kissing you softly.

But a really, really sweet moment, and a lot of cuddles during the aftercare.

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motheyes · 2 years

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omg a moth landed on my car window earlier just for a few seconds and it made me so happy

#something that’s rlly exciting for me is being able to learn about bugs #like. on my own terms and being able to just be fascinated by things again #it’s crazy i feel like a kid and learning is fun again #i love just finding creatures just chilling and getting to research about them #it’s so fun i love learning about them #like the snakefly today #and last week with daddy long legs #and isopods #they are all so cool and have cool little features #omg omg also snake flies are considered ‘living fossils’ because very similar creatures like them lived in dinosaur times #isn’t that fucking crazy #snake flies lived through a mass extinction event. god #just to sit on the steps to my apartment #and to get moved into the grass by my keys #and to get their little picture taken #pretty sure it was a female due to its big uhhh thing they used to lay eggs #idk wtf it’s called #anyways . happy <3

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dreamchasernina · 2 months

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So since the fandom has come back to life and there is not enough Kataang content on this app I will start sharing my two cents. Yay.

I want to start off by saying that as the show was airing, I, as a 10 year old, did kinda ship Zutara. Let’s face it, that scene in the catacombs was a turning point for a lot of shippers. But that was before I saw the final season a couple of years later. When I rewatched the show as a whole, as a teenager I was over Zutara, honestly their interaction kind of felt awkward to me, because they were enemies for so long. So I was all for Kataang. Now, that I’ve rewatched it for like a 1000th time, as a 28 year old, I finally see Kataang for the amazing pairing that it is.

Anyway, I’m not here to hate on anyone, you can ship whoever you like, and I love Zuko so you will not see me slandering his character here. Plus I don't feel the need to hate dump on a character to make my ship feel superior (*cough* unlike some Zutara shippers *cough*).

Ok, so. I feel that when people think of Katara, and her part in the show, they remember her as the responsible one in the group, the "mother" of the group, the sensible and caring one. Yes, when Katara’s mother died she had to step in and take the responsibility of the mother in the family, like Sokka says in the Runaway, and that stayed with her throughout the show. But, I hate that that’s the only thing she’s remembered for, because that’s just the result of her trauma. I feel like most people ignore a very crucial part of her character. Yes, she is the responsible in the group, but when she gets a chance to just be a kid, that's what she is.

People forget about the fun loving side of Katara. The one that goes penguin sledding and remembers how she hasn’t done it in a long time because life hasn’t allowed her to. The side of Katara that gets obsessed with Aunt Wu’s prediction because she is just a regular girl who’s fascinated by her love life, and dreams about what her future husband might be like. The girl that tries flying on the glider with Teo. The girl that relaxes on Appa and lets the hippie girl braid her hair, completely forgetting about the next task in their journey. People forget the side of her that dances in a cave, forgetting about the war and just enjoying life. Let’s not ignore that whenever Katara has a chance, she just enjoys being a kid, not just a badasss waterbender travelling with the Avatar.

And when Katara brings that side out, you know who’s right by her side? Aang. He’s not just by her side, he’s the one initiating those little fun moments. Penguin sledding is his idea, he’s the one to remind her that even though she’s been through a lot, and has a lot of responsibilities, she’s still a kid. He’s the one to organize the dance party, in a middle of a war, in the enemy's terrorory, he still finds a way for them just to be kids. And she’s right there with him, dancing. He’s also taking part in her obsession with Aunt Wu, not belittling or making fun of her faith, but taking part in it. Also sitting right next to her in a flower crown and enjoying the music the hippies play.

You cannot ignore that part of Katara, the part that shines when she’s comfortable, the part that just wants to be a regular kid and have fun. And that’s the part that Aang brings out in her. He’s the Avatar, the weight of the world is literally on his shoulders, but he still finds a way to enjoy life and be a kid, even after going through the worst trauma you can imagine. And he’s there to remind her that even if you’ve experienced the worst, you can still find joy in the little things. She literally says in the first episode - Aang brought something we haven’t had in a long time - fun. And that’s what he brings to her, this light, and that’s why she’s so drawn to him.

Isn’t that what we want for Katara, after the war is over? To just let herself be a kid, not to miss out on that part of her life, now that she doesn’t have to worry about their survival? And the best person to bring this joy and childlike wonder back into her life is Aang. And that’s why I think that Aang is truly the best one Katara could have ended up with.

#atla #kataang #avatar: the last airbender #aang #avatar the last airbender #Katara

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starleska · 4 months

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Dollface - the Toymaker x Real Toymaker!Reader

As a toymaker, you are delighted when you stumble across MR EMPORIUM'S TOYSHOP. But when you meet its eccentric owner - one eponymous 'Toymaker' - you enter into an impossible game with higher stakes than you ever imagined…with the risk of your deepest fantasy coming true. Rating: Mature. Tags: Dollification; Toyification; Truth or Dare; Reality-Bending; Humiliation; Psychological Torture; Fluff; Teasing; Touching; Forced Dancing; Mentions of Neglect; Cosmic Horror; Horrible Fake German. Reader is presumed female, but has a complicated relationship with gender and enjoys feminine terms of endearment. requested by the lovely @chronicbeans!! whilst this was originally meant to be a few-paragraphs long headcanons bit...but then it sprawled into a 13,000 word fanfic. my apologies to yourself, and to any German speakers in the audience 🙈💖 you can also read this on AO3. i hope you enjoy!

Toys are your life.

For as long as you can remember you have been fascinated by all manner of toys: everything from teddy bears to zoetropes; spinning tops to yo-yos. As a child you weren’t just interested in playing with toys—you wanted to reach inside of them, pick them apart, and understand every little detail about how they worked. Much to the chagrin of your parents, you spent more time trying to put your toys back together than you did actually playing with them.

But all of your alternative playtime paid off. Now, as an adult, you run a modest yet successful local toymaking business, with your own vendor stall at the market and a popular online shop. Much of your work is custom, using vintage materials to replicate toys of the past, and you occasionally trade and sell real old toys too. As a result, you have something of a monopoly on the local toy scene, and feel you know every single toymaker and toy-collecting enthusiast in a fifty mile radius.

That’s why it’s a real shock when you stumble across MR EMPORIUM’S TOYSHOP late one night.

The storefront is a gorgeous assault to the senses. Parked in the middle of the cold, grey street, the toyshop beams out crimson and gold onto the snow drifts, with all manner of classic toys peeking out at you through the windows. You are delighted to see an assortment of downy plush bears and hand-painted model motor cars crowding the shelves: so many it feels like the toyshop itself might burst at the seams. Your giddiness only increases as you get closer to the window. You can make out all sorts of fun, bright shapes within: countless colourful toys beckoning you and begging to be taken home.

Yet it isn’t these treasures which catch your eye the most. Right at the back of the shop, near the counter, you spy a shelf lined with dolls. They are beautiful even at a distance: likely from the early 20th century, masterfully painted and wearing a fine rainbow of little dresses. Even from your vantage point you can see the impeccable craftsmanship. There’s immense detail in their delicate hands, and if you’re not mistaken, each doll has a crop of real human hair.

Perhaps most intriguing of all is the eyes. Their glass sheen looks so sad and wistful…far more emotion than a doll should be able to communicate.

If you didn’t know any better, you would believe the dolls were alive.

Oh, I shouldn’t , you tell yourself. I’m much too old now to be playing with dolls…and I keep all my old ones locked up anyway. I shouldn’t deprive some kid of a toy. This is a deeply silly excuse, and a hypocritical one. The vast majority of your clientele are adults, as are the brilliant toymakers you’re proud to call your friends. This is the perpetual double-standard you constantly believe and are always trying to rally against: that you are uniquely strange, and deserve to be ridiculed for your interests.

The curious thing is that this idea doesn’t apply to toys more broadly…only to dolls. You have made countless dolls throughout your career, and yet owning dolls and enjoying them is something you’ve long nursed a hang-up over. But that is a can of worms you refuse to open up today. No , you decide, today I am going to be a normal adult who is confident about their interests and doesn’t feel an ounce of shame! I am going to go into this toyshop and look at those dolls, and that’s that! With your mind made up, you shift your backpack onto your shoulder, take a deep breath, and push through the toyshop’s door.

The door slams shut behind you with the tinkle of a bell. You are immediately enveloped in warmth, and the delicious scent of varnished wood enrobes you like a fine dress. You can’t help but close your eyes and inhale: somehow, the toyshop smells just like your childhood.

“Hallo, meine kleine Mädchen! Komm in, komm in, be ge-removings yourselves from dee kalt! It is ein horrid evenings, is it not?”

You open your eyes in surprise, and see an older, greyish-blond-haired man leaning against the counter. He’s dressed in a most whimsical fashion, wearing a soft white work shirt coupled with a maroon waistcoat, and a brown apron stuffed with woodworking tools. A spotted ascot around his neck and a pair of pince-nez balanced at the end of his nose complete the look.

The man smiles at you like he’s known you all his life. You feel like you’ve been transported to another time.

“It is,” you agree, as you shake the snow drifts from your boots. “So sorry for dropping in so late—I’m surprised you’re still open.”

“Ah, but I am always having times for dee beautiful Fräulein,” says the man with a coy wink. “But vot is it zat is ge-bringings you here?”

You have to stifle a giggle. You know enough of the language to know the man’s German is terribly off, and his accent is borderline offensive. However, you also know that folks in the toymaking community tend to be eccentric, and you can forgive a corny, theatrical accent for the wonderful atmosphere of this shop. Who are you to judge if he wants to LARP as a Bavarian thespian?

Before you can reply, the strange man is suddenly beside you…although you don’t recall seeing him move. He has also removed his pince-nez. You blink, a little taken aback. How did he move so quickly? You wonder if you’ve eaten enough that day.

“I’m…a toymaker,” you say, trying not to sound freaked out. “I’ve never seen your shop before, and I thought I knew everyone in town who makes toys. What’s your name?”

The man’s eyes are blue, you notice—terribly blue, and sparkling in the soft light with unspoken mischief. “You are beings ein toymaker? Vy, zat is a coincidence…” He taps the side of his nose. “Many peoples ge-calls me by many names. But zey most oftens call me the Toymaker, und nothing else. It be gettings dee point across, nein? Und was ist your name?”

You tell him, and the Toymaker’s mouth splits open in a wide grin.

“Das ist ein schöner name!” he says enthusiastically. “Truly, a magnifizent fit. It is not often zat I am gettings other toymakers in mein shop…I vonder, vot does your eye ge-fallen upon? Could it be mein cuddly collection of teddies? Oh, ja, I sees you are ge-needings ein soft companion for dese frosty nights. Or could it be mein train? Choo-choo! it goes, round and round all dee livelong day! I am ge-havings many customers mit ein eye for dee train.”

The Toymaker’s voice is smooth as butter, rich and inviting, and each word he speaks seems to add a little more colour to his delightful environment. You look around in awe at all of the toys, unable to comprehend the sheer scale of the place. Just moments ago the shop seemed so small, with the abundance of toys seriously crammed in on the shelves, but now it looks impossibly vast: a veritable sea of playful delights. The little choo-choo train in question chugs along on its rails and moves past the doll shelf, drawing your eye back to their pretty little figures.

“Ah, dee Katze hast gotten your tongue,” says the Toymaker. He gestures to the dolls, and the gold ring on his right pinkie finger catches the light. “I too ams often becomings stricken by dee beauty of mein dollen…zey took me many nights to make, ja. Oh, but ge-look! Eins ist out of place. Zose fingers are so fiddly! Und dee hair…zo many eveninks ge-spended brushing out zeir tiny curls."

You watch as the Toymaker reaches up and begins deftly rearranging the dolls. His fingers are long and nimble, and they move with such care and attention, placing each doll’s tiny hands neatly in their laps and smoothing down their dresses. When you’re a toymaker, you grow to appreciate a pair of well-practised hands, and there’s something undeniably… charming , about this Toymaker and his cartoonish whimsy. It’s silly, but you feel a little heat rising in your cheeks. The attention he’s paying to such small, delicate objects…

…well, it’s only natural that your mind should wander to more practical applications of such hands.

“The dolls are gorgeous,” you say. “Do you offer any toymaking classes? The dolls I make have a bit more of a modern touch.”

That’s when the Toymaker laughs, and it is a strange laugh: it tinkles out of his mouth like a jingle, in a musical, ‘Ha ha ha HA ha ha ha!’

“Oh, mein dollen are sehr modern…moreso zan you sink,” says the Toymaker. He gives you another wink, as it seems he likes to give them out for free.

That’s when you feel the little clench in your chest. Oh dear, he really is quite handsome. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d caught feelings for a quirky, attractive stranger, and they were often not as well-dressed as the Toymaker. You have a tendency to get caught up in the realms of imagination, and have thought up more than a few daring trysts with pretty-faced people with whom you’d only exchanged a couple of words. You ought to grab a doll, leave, and have a quiet little panic attack about this interaction at home.

You force your eyes away from the handsome man and back to the shelf.

That’s when you spot her.

Somehow, a doll had escaped your notice. Right in the middle of her sad-looking rainbow sisters is another doll, simply and prettily done up in a powder-blue be-ribboned frock. Unlike the other dolls, this one is smiling in a dimpled way, and her eyes sparkle with a magical sheen not unlike that of the Toymaker’s. You note with some amusement that the doll has the same eye colour as you—hair colour, too. This isn’t strange on a doll, but it gives you the same jolt of satisfaction and déjá vu you get when meeting someone who shares your name.

“Ah,” says the Toymaker (now on your other side). “Dee dollen…zey speak to you, ja? Zey are ge-having ein chitter-chatter, all high up on dee shelf. Vot fun games zey have ven I ge-leaves the shoppen!”

Dollen isn’t even the German word for dolls, you know—it’s Puppen. But you get the sense that the Toymaker’s German accent is less an earnest recreation (and it’s certainly not his natural accent), but a pantomime version intended to amuse and entertain.

“I’m sure they do,” you say, but you’re distracted from the Toymaker’s little act. The longer you look at the doll, the stranger you feel.

You move closer to the shelf to get a better look, and are startled by what you discover.

It isn’t just that the doll on the shelf has similar hair and eyes to you: they’re both the exact same shade, even down to the imperfect flecks in your irises.

You study the doll intently for a moment, blink, and— what? The doll’s hair is now the same length as yours. Was it always? No, you could have sworn just a moment ago it was not just a completely different length, but style.

You rise up on your tiptoes to get a better look at the doll, and are baffled by what you see. It’s as if detail is stacking on the doll right before your eyes, the way some video game maps load in piece-by-piece. You watch as texture is added to her hair, and light pools in her eyes. This level of craftsmanship is uncanny; it’s as if the Toymaker went out of their way to create a doll which resembles you.

“How did you do that?” You turn to the Toymaker, confused. “Did you know I was coming here?"

The Toymaker’s mouth contorts into an offended pout. “Now, you ge-vounds me. It is ein special privilege, having another Spielzeugmacher in mein shop. Tell me, vot do you sink of her hair? Es ist pretty, ja?”

“But that doll looks exactly like me,” you say.

You can feel your heart hammering in your chest. Suddenly the warm, cosy atmosphere of the toyshop feels more claustrophobic and oppressive. The Toymaker looks unbothered; he rests his chin on his hand and contemplates the shelf.

“Zere ist ein…certain resemblance,” says the Toymaker, with an unusual, almost French affectation on the last word. “But you are just ge-havings, as zey say, ‘von of zose faces’. Ja, das ist richtig: ein dollface. Puppengesicht. All smooth und sveet. Vy, vot a lucky lady you are! She simply must be goings home vith you.”

You’re scrambling to work out what kind of practical joke this is, and how the Toymaker was pulling it off. You’d met a few eccentric toymakers with God complexes before, as they tend to go hand-in-hand: you’d briefly dated one who designed escape rooms in his spare time. But this is on another level…creating a doll which can be imperceptibly altered to resemble a person in real-time? You’d never heard of such a thing, and you can’t think of a non-creepy reason why someone would go to the trouble of making one.

Oh, hang on a minute, you think. This guy might just be a genius. “This is a marketing trick, isn’t it?”

You pull away from the Toymaker and lean against his counter, feeling terribly smug for having figured it out.

The Toymaker puts his head on one side, quizzical. Playing dumb, you think.

“I am not ge-followings you,” the Toymaker says.

“You make dolls of the people you see ahead of time,” you explain. “People you know who will come in here at some point…collectors, other toymakers. Then you wait and put them on the shelf when they come in, maybe behind some hidden panel so you can spin them around when they get close. Then when they come in, it’s like they’ve found the perfect toy!”

You’re so proud of yourself for having cracked the case, you want to pump your fist in the air. For a moment, you envision yourself wearing a deerstalker hat and smoking a pipe. Go me! But your victory is short-lived. During your diatribe, the Toymaker’s bright, childish grin had frozen on his face, and remained in place even during your brief mental celebration. But now the smile slowly slips like a mask peeling away from too-tight skin. In its place sits a stormy frown: one which clenches the muscles and wrinkles of the Toymaker’s face into an expression which says ‘insulted’.

“For shame,” says the Toymaker. “That’s twice you’ve accused me of cheating now. You really do me a disservice. I am bound by the Rules of Play, and would never resort to such cheap tricks.”

What the hell…? The Toymaker’s accent is completely different. Where before his voice was a thick soup of faux German, now it is a soft British breeze: a proper, formal accent which speaks the way trees rustle. You gape at him, dumbfounded.

“Your accent is different,” you can’t help but say. You’re no longer just leaning against the counter—you’re actively pushing into it, with the edge of the countertop pushing into the small of your back.

The Toymaker raises an eyebrow at you, and smirks. “You are not half as stupids as you are ge-lookings,” he says, slipping the German back on like a heavy cloak. “But zen, I know you are playing ein game mit me, aren’t you?”

You stare at the Toymaker. Something has shifted: the air is thick with a tension you cannot identify, but which you want to run away from. You keep staring, thinking that if you look away from those too-blue eyes for even a moment, you might just lose your grip.

You know for a fact that if you look back at that doll on the shelf, it will look even more like you than before.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and you wish you weren’t lying.

The Toymaker laughs his musical laugh and wags his finger in your face. “Sehr naughty!” he says. “Oh, how natürlich dee lies kommen to sie, mein Schatz. You be ge-knowinks how to play games…zis ist ein lecker human mind game, und you are ge-tryings to deceive me.”

His voice slips smoothly back into the British:

“Do you think I don’t know all about your little fantasy?”

Your eyes go wide, and a choked noise escapes your mouth. No. There is no way that this man…this impossible toymaker could possibly know. You were always so careful, so sure to keep it all to yourself! Familiar shame and embarrassment wash over you in a hot wave as the Toymaker looks at you, looks into you, as if he can see the inner workings of your mind. Your mind grabs at the old, familiar justifications the way one might grab a newspaper for modesty if they found themselves naked on a bus. It’s perfectly normal to have fun little flights of fancy. Everyone plays make-believe sometimes, right? “But zey are embarrassing, zese thoughts of yours,” the Toymaker giggles. “Not dee kind of thoughts you can share mit deine Mutter. I am not ge-thinkinks zat you have shared your desires mit ein Partnerin…” There goes the eyebrow again, cocked sardonically to match the wicked curl of his lips. “Is zis true?” You feel nauseous. The firm pressure of the countertop underneath your palms is all that stops you from shaking. It feels as if the Toymaker is probing the inside of your skull, and using those skilled fingers to strip back the whorls of your brain and grab at the fleshy thoughts inside.

“Get out of my head,” you say quietly.

“Oh, but zis is dee game I ge-likes!” says the Toymaker. “Humans mit zeir internal struggles. Desires mit dee most fun ideas, but you are too ge-frightened to say vot you vant. So you play games mit dein loved ones…dee hunting und dee exasperation. Oh, you simply vill not communicate!"

You don’t know when the Toymaker got so close to you, but now he’s towering over you, with his hands firmly planted on either side of the countertop. You’re close enough to count the spots on his ascot, and examine the year-lines etched around his mouth and eyes. When he smiles those lines crinkle, but not naturally: it’s the way a puppet’s arms reach for the stars when the marionette twists them upwards.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun,” you whisper. “I’ll buy the doll and leave.”

This close, the Toymaker radiates heat. He smells like rose petals and Christmas.

“You could…but zat vould be no fun,” says the Toymaker. “I propose ve solve zis in a more interesting vay…”

The Toymaker waves his hand across your field of vision…and transforms the centre of the toyshop. A small wooden table complete with chairs has popped into existence just in front of the counter. You gape at the sight. How did he do that?! “Let us play ein game,” he says. “If you vin, you can take dee doll free of charge. But if I vin…”

The Toymaker’s smile cracks like the earth preceding a quake.

“You vill stay vith me und play mein games forever!”

You have to give yourself credit for reacting as well as you did. Most people, if they were faced with a crazy fake German man who seems able to read your mind, may have had a breakdown or made a run for the door. But you’ve seen a lot of anime, and you understand that if you are challenged by a handsome, powerful man with magical powers and a delightful hairstyle, you cannot refuse the call. Your brain has shifted from This should be impossible, to It’s game time. “Alright,” you say slowly. “You’re clearly very powerful. It seems like if I play a game with you, you have far more to gain than I do. A doll isn’t a good enough prize.”

The Toymaker smiles at you. “Ein girl after mein own heart,” he says. “How about zis: if you vin, I vill show you exactly how I make mein dollen, complete vith a demonstration. Zat is generous of me, nein?”

His words are laced with sinister venom, and it’s all you can do not to be poisoned.

“And I’m guessing that if I refuse your game, something terrible would happen to me?”

The Toymaker hums low in his throat. “Hm…not accepting mein game is always ein option…ja, you could do zat. Und yet…”

You inhale as the Toymaker brings his face terribly close to yours. The skin of his cheek brushes your own. You can feel his soft breath as he whispers into your ear, British once more:

“I know you are so curious as to how I make my dolls. If you leave now, you’ll never know. And I think if you wanted to leave, you would have done so already.”

The Toymaker pulls away from you, leaving you with your face on fire. He’s right. In less than ten minutes, the Toymaker has sussed out your fatal flaw: your damned unstoppable curiosity. There have been countless times where your life would have been improved if you’d kept your nose in your own business…but this is different. The Toymaker isn’t just dangling a carrot: he’s already dug his hooks in you, and you are being reeled in with every second you spend looking into those impossibly blue eyes.

When you next blink, the Toymaker has moved again. He is sitting in one chair, his hands folded primly in front of him.

“Name your challenge,” he says.

You weren’t expecting this: you thought he would have a game in mind. “Any game at all?”

“There isn’t a game I don’t know,” says the Toymaker coolly. “It is common courtesy to allow the guest to pick the party game.”

You can’t help a nervous giggle. “This is a weird kind of party,” you say.

The Toymaker acknowledges this by inclining his head. “Choose.”

Your mind scrambles over dozens of options. There are so many games…board games, card games, strategy games. Do we need equipment? How long does the game have to be? What games can you play with just two people? That’s when your brain starts to run in a very different direction, and a variety of… game positions …flash through your imagination with impunity.

A flush scalds up your neck. You look at the Toymaker, who raises his eyebrows in a knowing way.

He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You want to scream.

“Truth or Dare!” you blurt out.

That gets his attention. The Toymaker leans forward, his eyes quizzical. “Zat is non-traditional…yet apt,” he says. “Could it be zat you are ge-vantings me to force zat fantasy out of you, meine Liebchen?”

“No,” you lie. “I want you to tell me what you are, and why you’re doing this to me.”

“Then let’s get down to business,” says the Toymaker. “We take it in turns to ask each other Truth or Dare. A Truth corresponds to a question which must be answered truthfully, and a Dare is an action which must be carried out. The player earns one point for each Truth or Dare successfully completed.”

The Toymaker steeples his fingers together. You can’t pull your eyes away from them.

“If you refuse to complete a Truth or a Dare, or you contravene the rules of the game, you lose a point…and must complete a forfeit.”

The way he says ‘forfeit’ sends a shiver down your spine. “What kind of forfeit?”

“Oh, dee usual,” says the Toymaker casually. “Somesing difficult or humiliating. I do not ge-liken to pre-plan zese things…I am preferings to be spontaneous.”

You are starting to regret your choice of game. This is a man who knows more about you than you’ve ever told your closest friend…surely a game like Truth or Dare would be pointless for him? So you ask: “Why would you want to play this if you can already tell what I’m thinking?”

The Toymaker frowns. “A good question,” he says. “The Rules of Play prevent me from having any unfair advantage over an opponent. Although my abilities will remain intact, anything which would tilt the game in my favour is out-of-bounds. I am physically incapable of cheating, and would thank you not to bring it up again. There are only two states of being which matter: winning, or losing. I intend to win.”

Fair enough , you think. “And what if I cheat?” you say. “I have a pretty good poker face. If you can’t look inside my head during the game, what if I just lie to you? How could you tell?”

The Toymaker chuckles, bearing his mouth wide. To your horror, you see there are far, far too many teeth in his mouth.

“I can always tell when someone is lying to me.”

“Six turns,” you counter, voice trembling. “Whoever has the most points at the end of those turns is the winner. And…you can’t choose Truth or Dare more than twice in a row.”

The Toymaker seems impressed by your game-making skills. “Agreed,” he says. “Let us begin.”

He snaps his fingers, and all the lights in the toyshop go out. Above, a stagelight snaps into existence, pouring heat and light onto your scalp in a cascade. The Toymaker’s striking features are illuminated by this shift in lighting, casting the lines of his face with the severity of stage makeup. You swallow: he looks divine.

“Would you like to go first?” he asks politely.

“...No,” you say after a moment. “I think that honour should go to the house.”

Your gamble pays off: you realised that the Toymaker is a man with great respect for the rules of the game, and this offer makes him smile.

“How generous,” says the Toymaker. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” you say.

The Toymaker taps his finger to his lips, considering. Then, he says, “Destroy something precious to you.”

It takes a few seconds for you to really process the Dare. When it hits, you are baffled. What kind of Dare is that? you want to say…but you don’t bother saying it aloud. What kind of toyshop is this—and what kind of ‘toymaker’ is he? All you need to know is reflected in the sadistic gleam in the Toymaker’s eye. This wouldn’t be an ordinary game, and contesting his requests would be fruitless. All you can do is make your move.

You take a deep breath, and reach down into your backpack. You didn’t leave the house this morning planning to bring anything precious to you, but you are a sentimental person by nature, and know you have one item which fits the bill. It’s with great sadness that you pull out a small, ratty teddy bear and place him on the table. The bear is old and beige and dressed in a crimson band leader’s outfit, complete with a hat and red-laced riding boots.

“Oh, ein teddy bear!” laughs the Toymaker, delighted. “How charming. He is quite dee looker, isn’t he?”

“He’s the first bear I ever made,” you say. “I was listening to some 90s British pop music, and the idea for his design just…popped into my head. I scribbled it down and pulled him together from scraps of fabric and repurposed stuffing in just a day. His name’s Neil…I keep him with me for good luck.”

Something about what you said is terribly amusing to the Toymaker, but you don’t know why. “Ein handsome name indeed,” says the Toymaker. “But I am afraid zat vill not be enoughs to ge-save him. Poor Neil. Now…vill you complete your Dare?”

You take a deep breath. There was no turning back now; you’ve accepted the Toymaker’s game, and the predatory sheen in his eyes tells you that you can no longer just walk away. So you pick up Neil, grab hold of his little teddy bear ears—

And tear his head off, sending stuffing careening all over the table.

“Oh!” says the Toymaker with a false gasp. “Vot an unfortunate end for poor Neil. I did not know zat you have such ein cruel streak.”

“Shut up,” you say, trying not to look at Neil’s decapitated corpse.

Even though he’s just a teddy bear, you feel like you’ve just killed a defenceless animal. Neil’s lifeless button-eyes gaze up at you imploringly, as if asking why you’d do such a thing. You knock Neil’s head off the table and focus back on the Toymaker.

“That’s one point to me,” you say. “Truth or Dare?”

The Toymaker grins at you like a shark. “Dare.”

There are a thousand questions ricocheting around your head, but you ask the one which you know will keep you up at night: “Tell me how you did that thing with the doll.”

The violence of the Toymaker’s laughter makes you jump. He actually covers his mouth to quieten himself, but his shoulders shake even so. “Oh nein, nein, nein, you are ge-makings ein mistake!” he says. “You cannot be askings a question ven I have chosen Dare. Oh, meine Schatz, you have your lost your point…and must receive ein forfeit.”

Your veins run cold. “What? No! That was never in the rules!”

“It is a common rule,” says the Toymaker, suddenly serious. “What is the point of distinguishing between a Truth or Dare, if a Dare can be a Truth?”

You want to protest…but his logic is infuriatingly sound. It’s exactly the kind of argument you could see yourself making if you were playing the game against a friend. You try to think of some other get-out-of-jail-free card—anything which would allow you learn how the Toymaker made that doll look exactly like you—but you come up short. You slump in your chair, and resign yourself to waiting for the next round.

“Oh, do not ge-look so sad,” says the Toymaker. In mock sympathy, he makes a little tutting sound against his teeth. “Now, about zat forfeit…ah! I am ge-knowings just dee sing.”

The Toymaker snaps his fingers…and your clothes burst into a flock of doves.

You scream and leap up from the table, batting away at the birds scrambling over your skin. They coo and and flap in your face before struggling upwards and flying into the rafters. Shocked, you look down to find yourself still fully clothed…but with a wardrobe change. You are now clad in a beautiful, powder-blue dress. The fabric is inhumanly soft and threaded through with white ribbons.

“Oh my God!” you yell. “What did you do?!”

The Toymaker is doing his best to stifle a giggle behind his hand. “Do you like it?” he asks. “I think the colour is rather fetching on you.”

You clutch at the skirts of your dress, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. There is no way this is possible…you hadn’t felt anything, not even a shift of your own clothes or the sliding of new fabric against your skin. One moment you were wearing your own clothes, and the next you weren’t. It’s as if your clothes were merely a covering, and when they transformed into doves and flapped off, they left only your dress behind.

You move your legs under the layers of fabric, and blush when you discover you’re wearing a pair of frilly stockings. As you stick out your feet, you can see your feet are clad in a shiny pair of Mary Janes. It’s with a sick feeling in your stomach that you realise what the dress is.

It’s the same dress that the doll on the shelf is wearing.

"You're sick," you hiss.

The Toymaker cocks his head to one side. “Indeed?” he says. “How odd. I thought I was being rather generous, giving you a helping hand towards becoming your true self.” He snickers at you. “If I am sick, then I do wonder what that makes you. My mind is full of games, but the inside of your head is full of so much more.”

You ignore the Toymaker and hold your own arms, shrinking back down into your chair. Yet as you look down at the dress, you can’t help but feel a pang of longing. The dress is a perfect fit, one which could have been custom-designed, and the fabric is truly stunning in appearance and quality. With its puffy sleeves and shapely waistline, you know if you were alone you would have given your new skirts a twirl.

But you can’t let yourself get lost now. This is as much a mind game as it is a real one, you realise. The Toymaker is eyeing you like a piece of meat, and it’s clear that he is capable of so much more than a costume change. You must press on with the game.

“I want to keep playing,” you say.

“Wonderful,” says the Toymaker. "We’re currently still at zero points each, with two turns down. Unfortunately, your turn was taken due to the forfeit. I must ask you: Truth or Dare?”

You don’t allow yourself time to think about it: “Dare.”

The Toymaker’s smile is knowing. “It is a fool’s errand, trying to delay the inevitable. I believe my initial suspicions were correct…you do want the Truth to be pried from you, don’t you? Perhaps that makes the shame a little less potent. After all, the mean, scary Toymaker made you dress this way. It wasn’t your fault…you couldn’t help it. Am I getting warmer?”

Your face is getting warmer, and it’s getting increasingly hard to meet the Toymaker’s gaze. “It isn’t my fault that my opponent is insane,” you say, with venom.

Somehow, the Toymaker’s laugh is German. “Ah, zere is zat fire. You are quite dee entertaining playmate, meine Liebling. I am not ge-xpectings you to verstand games of dee mind…but I do find zem exhilarating. Dee expressions ge-crossing your face right now…I vish you could see zem.”

You scowl at the Toymaker. “Just give me your Dare.”

The Toymaker shrugs at you. “If you insist. I Dare you…to perform a dance befitting a fine young lady such as yourself.”

Oh, God, no. This is a nightmare of a Dare. “I—I’m not a dancer,” you say. You can feel your blush crawling up your neck. You envision yourself prancing around in your new dolly-dress, and the embarrassment makes you physically cringe.

“Oh, zat is not ein problem!” The Toymaker beckons you to look under the table. When you do, he taps his own shoes against the floor, performing a rhythmic tap-step. “Zose lovely Schuhe I gave you vill ge-helpen sie along. Provided you are villing to perform dee dare, your tanzen is all taken care of. All you are ge-needings to do is stand up, und take drei steps backwards.”

The Toymaker leans back in his chair and looks at you expectantly. The list of excuses which blossomed into your mind when he first suggested the Dare are dwindling rapidly, each one seeming more pathetic than the last. But…maybe there is a way out of this?

“What about music?” you ask. “Surely you can’t expect me to dance without music.”

The Toymaker shakes his head at you. “Do not ge-worry about dee musik! I have it all covered. Unless…you vish to forfeit once more?” The idea of any other part of your body spontaneously transforming into an animal is enough to make you scramble to your feet. Immediately, you are self-conscious: the dress is equal parts beautiful and ridiculous, and is so poofy and frilly that it gives your lower half the shape of a bell. You haven’t felt this kind of embarrassment since you were in school: the dry throat and sweaty palms before getting up on stage for assembly. Feeling like a silly child, you can’t help but look at the Toymaker, searching those mirthful eyes for guidance. But the Toymaker simply shoos you, indicating for you to step back. Hesitantly, you take one step away from the table. Then another. Then, one final, gentle step. Without warning, the floor of the toyshop erupts! From beneath your feet a wooden stage springs up, unfurls around you and traps you like a box. You shriek and try to stumble away, but your new dancing shoes root you firmly to the spot. A spotlight bursts into being above your head and illuminates your frozen self in all your newfound frilly glory. You look down from your new height to see the Toymaker sitting in what is now the front row of a vast auditorium; the toyshop’s interior has vanished. He whoops and grabs a fistful from a cartoonishly large bucket of popcorn. You open your mouth to yell at him, and maybe call him some horrible names you haven’t thought of yet. But before you can, music starts blaring from all sides of the auditorium. It’s a grating, repetitive tune: some ghastly combination of twee guitar and twinkling piano…and it’s so familiar . You know this song, but what is it? And why does it sound so…childish? The music hits a powerful note. Your mouth opens unbidden, and from your vocal cords a voice which is decidedly not yours belts out the opening lyric to a familiar nursery rhyme: “I’m a little teapot, Short and stout!” Your voice is loud and beautiful, and you project better than any Broadway singer. You can do nothing but watch yourself in abject horror as your knees bend in time with the music, and your shiny shoes send you toppling along the stage in time with the song. “Here is my handle Here is my spout!” You try to scream and stop, but your body is no longer in your control. Your arms bend at frightening angles, and your hips send your neck careening to the side with a crack . A rictus grin is firmly plastered onto your face, and your mouth stays open and singing: “When I get all steamed up, Hear me SHOUT!…” Your hands flap and your toes point and you screaming on the inside, begging for this to stop, stop, STOP ! But the infernal music is inside of your head and it’s pushing in on all sides, and no matter how much you cry and beg and plead your mouth won’t work except to belt out the final words of your song. “TIP me over and POUR. ME. OUT!” At the last line, your knees give out and you collapse face-first onto the stage. A grand cheer goes up from the auditorium. You twist around, trying to see if the Toymaker has conjured up an audience to witness your humiliation—but he is the only one present. The Toymaker is on his feet and giving you a standing ovation. “Vunderbar!” the Toymaker cries as he claps enthusiastically. “Oh, you are dee most darling little teapot, ja. Zis is a fine game we are ge-havings!”

“What—did—you—do?” you gasp on the floor. You feel like your lungs have been crushed. Something the Toymaker did seized up everything inside of you and folded them up like paper. Now it’s as if you really are a doll: crumpled up and discarded in the corner when your owner is finished playing with you. Although you’re quite sure the music has stopped, the melody is blasting in your head in a maddening loop. You try to move, but your legs won’t work.

“Oh, don’t be zo dramatik. Eversing I ge-make brings viele fun,” says the Toymaker. “Herzlichen Glückwunsch …das ist ein point to you.”

You don’t see the Toymaker get up on the stage, but the next thing you know, he’s crouching down next to you. Without warning, the Toymaker lifts you up under the arms and pulls you to your feet as if you weigh nothing at all. You try to stand but your rigid muscles struggle with the task and you stumble, falling right into the Toymaker’s chest. He chuckles, and you hear it rumbling softly in his chest. His skin is impossibly warm…and you can’t hear a heartbeat.

The two of you stand like that for a long moment, with you enveloped in the Toymaker’s arms. When pressed against his waistcoat, the maddening song infesting your brain quietens, and is replaced with an easy sort of calm. It’s strange…all the questions and anger and terror seem to just burn away. They’re forgotten in the simplicity of being held like a doll.

Eventually, your senses kick in. You manage to pull yourself away from the Toymaker, and you refuse to look at his face. “I just want to get on with the game.”

“Of course.”

The Toymaker waves his hand and the stage and auditorium vanish. You are transported back to the interior of the toyshop, with its familiar cuddly audience and the table taking centre stage. You sit back down at the table shakily. You know when you look up the Toymaker will already be sitting across from you…and you’re right, even though you didn’t see or hear him pull back his chair. His eyes are bright and curious.

“Okay…Truth or Dare?”

The Toymaker places his hand on his chin and pretends to be deep in thought. After a while, he says, “Truth."

You very nearly ask him the same question you were denied just before: how was he able to make that doll look exactly like you? But the momentary calm offered by the Toymaker’s embrace has had a quieting effect on your mind, and a spike in your critical thinking skills. You have to think strategically; if you want to win, you need to ask him a question which will throw him off-guard. Asking him about the doll wouldn’t be a challenge because he likes to gloat, and to tease. But if you win, you can have your answer to that question and an actual demonstration…

…plus, you get to keep your freedom. Don’t forget that.

So you stare at the Toymaker and wonder…what causes a man (creature, entity, etc.) to end up this way?

“Tell me about your childhood,” you say.

The smile is wiped from the Toymaker’s face in an instant. His mouth twists in discomfort and anger. For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel a pleasant curl of satisfaction in your guts. The game is on, you think.

“What’s wrong?” you ask out loud. “Do you have a problem with the question? Because you can always forfeit—”

“I. Will. Not. Lose.”

The Toymaker’s fists are on the table now: they’re clenched and shaking. Although he’s looking at you, his mind seems far away, trapped somewhere else. After a beat, he leans forward, grabs your head and brings your foreheads together so they’re just barely touching.

“You asked for this,” says the Toymaker gravely. “I will do more than give you the answer to your question. I will show you. Close your eyes.”

The closeness is invigorating: the Toymaker’s hands are strong against the sides of your head, and you wonder for a second if he could pop your skull like a balloon. You consider saying no and demanding he just tell you the answer, but the look on the Toymaker’s face is so intense that you cannot refuse. It’s that terrible curiosity in you, willing you to stand at the edge of the universe and take a step off the cliff.

So you do as your bid, and close your eyes…

…only to awaken in a void.

To say there is nothing around you is an understatement. Your idea of nothingness is very particular: blackness; emptiness, an absence of sound and light. But this is something else entirely. You can’t even feel the lack of something in this place because there simply isn’t anything to feel. From the moment you open your eyes you feel the contradiction of yourself as a physical being, standing in this vacant not-space. There is less than nothing here. There is zilch. There is negative zero. There is null.

You try to get your bearings by looking around, but there are no bearings to get. This is a nothingness which exists beyond your comprehension. Just standing in this nothingness makes your jaw tighten and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. This is a phobic realm which is the antithesis to life.

And it is so, so cold.

“This is where I grew up.”

You jump. The Toymaker is standing beside you, arms folded behind his back. He surveys the nothingness with humble respect, the way a weary sailor surveys the ocean.

“How?” You try looking around again, but without anything to anchor gaze on, your eyes just swing back round to the Toymaker. “There’s nothing here.”

“Nothing except for me.”

The Toymaker sits down on the emptiness, cross-legged. Feeling discombobulated in the lack of space, you sit down too, next to him, and wonder how that’s possible. You hug your elbows, trying to fend off the omnipresent cold.

“We are outside of your universe,” says the Toymaker quietly. “Below it, as a matter of fact. We are in a pocket realm, like the hollow in a tree branch. Here there was nothing for a very long time…so long, that I do not know how to count it. The void is indifferent to such concepts.

“I was a child for an eternity, and many more eternities after that. Merely a conscious speck suspended in forever. At the time I had no form. No body, no face, and not really a mind. I was a collection of distant ideas and fraught, base emotions. There was no reason for me to have either a solid shape or a brain. I existed only in relation to the void, and the void went on forever. All I had to entertain myself were my games.”

With a flick of the wrist, the Toymaker conjures a ball into existence. Then another. Then another. He does this over and over again until he is juggling at least twenty balls. His hands move in a blur as he juggles the balls effortlessly. He tosses them higher and higher, so high that you have to crane your neck to see. Eventually you lose sight of the balls in the nothingness.

But then, the Toymaker sighs…and you notice that the balls are disappearing. This continues for about a minute, the balls growing fewer in number until he’s down to just three…and then there’s only two, so he’s not really juggling at all.

Finally, the Toymaker catches the last remaining ball and holds it up to your face. A frost has grown along its leathery side.

“Playing games can keep you warm,” says the Toymaker, “but only for a little while. Eventually, the cold gets in. And the cold devours everything."

“How did you survive here?” you ask quietly. You can’t raise your voice above a whisper: it feels disrespectful.

“Death isn’t something I am capable of experiencing,” says the Toymaker. “I can never die from the cold. But I can still feel it.”

The Toymaker looks at the ball in his hand, and it catches fire. You gasp and pull away, but the fire only burns for a few seconds: the flames are quickly extinguished by a new crop of frost, growing over the ball’s surface like a disease.

In moments, the Toymaker is holding nothing but a ball of ice.

“I’m…sorry,” you say.

It’s a feeble reply, and you know it. The cold here is wrapped into the environment itself. This no-space could well be made of nothing but a creeping, insidious chill. It’s worse than the kind of cold which slams into you, like the jump from the shower to a towel on a winter night, or the way your cheeks are slapped when stepping outside on a snowy day.

This cold is sinister.

It waits.

It seeks out warmth wherever it can, wraps itself around that spark of heat, and crushes it frozen.

The Toymaker runs hot, you remember with a shiver.

No wonder. The Toymaker fends off your weak sympathies with a shake of his head. He stares off into the nothingness, and continues to speak.

“I thought it would just be me and the void forever. But then one day, I heard laughter! It was a sound utterly foreign to me. I was so frightened, I spent millennia curled tight up into a ball, cringing away from the sound. But I could hear them now…beings, with shape and light and thoughts. As the epochs stretched before me and the void remained still, I found myself drawn to their laughter.”

The Toymaker’s eyes glitter with recollection. “I learnt how to poke small peepholes into the fabric of the void, and peer through at the shapes. And oh, the things I saw! These beings, they played games , just like me! Games which used pieces and strategies and all manner of wonderful toys. I wanted to have them all. Needed to have them. So I did. I fashioned myself fingers, and with those fingers I fashioned toys and toys and toys, enough to fill up every child’s toy room in every universe!"

You watch as the Toymaker trembles with excitement. His voice has swollen to fit the void: a rallying cry against the darkness. He looks so proud of himself…but only for a moment.

“After a while, my toys grew old,” he says sadly. “They say a boy becomes a man when he must throw his toys onto the fire in order to keep himself warm...and the cold never stops. I realised that wood and string were all well and good, but they had no personality of their own…and I had no opponent.”

The Toymaker turns to you then. There’s a manic look in his eye. “So I began to lure in the flesh-and-blood creatures,” he says. “It was easy enough once I learned to assume their shape…especially the early ones, who weren’t so bright. And what shapes I would become! I enjoy this shape so much that I’ve decided to keep it permanently, with the odd touch-up every half-century or so. Being handsome helps bring in the players.”

There goes that easy wink again, smooth and charming and drawing you in like the lure on an anglerfish.

“And…that’s why you’re here today?” you ask. “You just want to play games with us?”

The Toymaker’s laugh is mean. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says. “All that exists is to win, or to lose. I don’t want to play games with you. I simply want to win.”

The two of you stand in silence for a while, contemplating the nothingness. The longer you stay, the more you can feel the chill sliding its icy fingers over your flesh. It crawls up your socks and settles into the gaps behind your knees. It causes wet, cold dew to form at the edges of your eyelashes. It even seeps into the spaces between your skin and fingernails.

You wish you hadn’t asked for this Truth.

“One point to you, Toymaker,” you say through chattering teeth.

The Toymaker starts: clearly he’d forgotten all about you. The void has a sobering effect on him, it seems. How did a little boy manage to have any imagination in this place at all? “Yes,” says the Toymaker with a worn smile. “One point each.”

The next time you blink, the void is gone. You are returned to the familiar warmth of the toyshop, and are still sitting at the table across from the Toymaker. But now, even as the cold sloughs off your skin and your cheeks begin to heat up again, you can see the toyshop for what it is. The bright lights and colourful attractions are nothing more than decorative wallpaper for a frozen, ephemeral darkness, ever-creeping in on the corners of your vision.

When the Toymaker speaks again, his German is back in full force, and you wonder if he’s trying to stave off how frightened he really is.

“Zat is vier turns down,” he says. “Mit only zwei to go. I ge-believe it is my turn, ja?”

Oh, hell: he’s right. You’d gotten so caught up in the impossibility of the Toymaker’s mind that you’d forgotten you’re playing a very dangerous game. But the Toymaker’s smile looks fake now, and the way his eyes glimmer seems less like mischief, and more like withheld tears. For the first time you want to stop this game…not just for you, but for the Toymaker too.

But that’s not how this would be played. The rules are fixed, and you’ve seen what the consequences could be. Worse, you only have one response left to give. By the way the Toymaker is grinning at you, you know he’s remembered this rule too.

“Truth or Dare?” he asks.

You swallow, before giving the only answer you can: “Truth.”

The Toymaker laughs a little too loud. “Now, you had better nots ge-try to get out of zis one,” he says. “I vant you to tell me dee truth: vot exactly is your fantasy? I vill be requiring details.”

There it is: the question this whole game has been building up to. This situation is impossible and ridiculous. Here you sit, surrounded by beautiful toys in your gorgeous dress, playing a game with an unbelievable, broken man who can rewrite your entire reality with nothing more than a thought. Yet you still can’t just open your mouth and give him the answer. Somehow, even in the face of impossible adversity, you are still beholden to your human embarrassment.

“If I tell you…” you say slowly. “...Do you promise not to laugh?”

The Toymaker’s eyebrows knit together. He looks distressed by the question. “All players should be treated with respect,” he replies.

That’s not the answer I want, but it’s the only answer he can give , you think. But maybe that’s the key here. You would never willingly part with this information…but the Toymaker just did the same thing for you. He didn’t have to show you where he came from. He could have talked around it, given you the crib notes, and you would have been none the wiser. The Toymaker showed you vulnerability just by allowing you into his history.

You owe him that same level of respect.

“I didn’t get much attention when I was growing up,” you say. “It wasn’t a bad upbringing, but I was just kind of…left, a lot of the time. I wasn’t looked after. There was always some sort of problem that needed fixing, and my parents never had time for me. No one bothered to check on me, so I just had to figure things out for myself. I spent most of my time alone in my room…just me and my toys.”

“That sounds familiar,” says the Toymaker, and the sympathy in his voice is real. “How did you pass your time?”

“I took my toys apart,” you say. “I think my parents felt guilty for leaving me alone a lot, so there was never a shortage of toys. But I wanted to figure out how they worked. That seemed much more interesting than actually playing with them, you know?”

The Toymaker smiles with approval. “Dee keen eye of a toymaker is a gift,” he says. “But I sense you are delaying your real story…”

You curse inwardly: again, he’s right. You cannot hide any longer.

“I took apart all of my toys…except for my dolls.”

That gets the Toymaker’s attention: those bright blue eyes light up with interest. “Go on.”

“I had a set of five dolls,” you say quietly. “Generic dolls. Sparkly, brushable hair, and little swappable outfits. Nothing special. But even when I was really small I couldn’t hurt them. I was terrified of damaging them in any way. There weren’t any other kids around to talk to, and my parents weren’t home, so I just…talked to the dolls instead. I knew it was weird, but in my head the dolls were more sentient than my other toys. I thought they could really understand me.”

The Toymaker starts back up in his German voice: “Ah, zere is nothing more ge-saddening zan a lonely Kind. Zat is why decapitating poor Neil vas being no problem for you, zen?”

“Yeah. It still hurt, but not for the reasons it would hurt most people.” You swallow; this is the really difficult part. “The older I got, the more toys I had, but I never added to my doll collection. My parents would joke all the time about how I was becoming a ‘little lady’. When I became a teenager there was so much pressure to be pretty, and girly…and it made me feel sick. So I tried to fight back against it. I cut my hair, I swore off pink, and I wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress.”

The words stick in your throat. You look up at the Toymaker, hoping for some kind of mercy, but you don’t find it. But he isn’t mocking you, either: he just sits and waits for you to continue.

“I locked my dolls away,” you say. “I pretended I had thrown them out…but secretly, I’d sneak them out, and play with them. I’d brush their hair, and mend their dresses. I still do.”

The Toymaker leans in. “Why?”

“I…I wanted to be like them,” you whisper. “They are so pretty. The long, flowing dresses and the perfect makeup…they’re dazzling in a way I could never be. I can never, ever be that beautiful.”

You twist the fabric of your dress between your fingers fitfully, and force yourself to say it:

“I always wanted to be someone’s favourite doll."

There’s silence in the toyshop. You stare down at your lap, your heart pounding and your face flushed. Stupid, stupid…! Your eyes well up with hot tears. You can’t bring yourself to look at the Toymaker.

“Und zen you arrive here,” he says. “Meine beautiful dollen drew you in.”

“Yes,” you say quietly. “If I can’t be loved like a doll, then at least I can give them love instead. If I were a doll, maybe things would be easier, you know? Maybe…”

You can’t help the little choke-sob which escapes your lips.

“...maybe someone would take care of me."

The tears fall freely into your lap now and stain the beautiful fabric of your dress dark. You feel disgusting: worthy of ridicule. I deserve whatever happens to me now, you think, your brain awash with old, dark feelings you’ve kept locked up just like the dolls in your closet.

But it’s the Toymaker who snaps you out of his reverie. You didn’t hear him move, but you flinch when his fingers slide under your chin and tilt up your face towards him. Your tears cast him in a watery halo.

“Mein Liebling, stop ge-crying,” he says. “I have made sehr many dollen over dee years, und many of zem have been beautiful. But you are somesing else entirely entirely. Ein living, breathing, villing doll, so cute und poseable. Oh, you und I vill have zo many adventures together! You could be mein prized possession, und I vill hold you and play vith you from dawn zu dusk.”

The Toymaker’s words send a shudder through your body. Blood thrums at the surface of your skin and pools in your cheeks and neck. The Toymaker leans in until your noses are almost touching. He’s so very close to you now…close enough that he could kiss you.

But just before he reaches your lips, the Toymaker moves to the side and whispers into your ear:

“Dee game is not yet over, meine schöne dollen. You have one final question to ge-ask of me. Do it, und zis vill all be over…one vay or another.”

You can feel him smiling gently against your hair, and it makes you want to sob. Oh, please let this torture end…! But you’re in the Toymaker’s grasp now, in the final throes of his game, and you know you have to finish this or your suffering will never be over. There is only one turn left. You have to try, one last time, or you would spend the rest of your life at the beck and call of this madman.

“Truth or Dare?” you manage to croak out.

The Toymaker lets your face go. “Dare."

You take a deep breath. This is your last chance.

“Let me go.”

The Toymaker takes a long, long moment to process your answer…and then he starts to laugh. Really, really hard. The tinkling arpeggio of his laughter builds and builds until it seems to shake the very walls of the toyshop. For a moment, you are terrified that it’s all going to come crumbling down like a house of cards.

“Oh, perhaps becoming ein dollen hast eroded deine brain, ja?” says the Toymaker, the arrogance flashing in his teeth. “I am not ein genie you kann outsmarts. I am afraid zat since letting you go ist your prize, you cannot request it of me. So, you have lost ein point, putting us at a tie…und you must complete ein forfeit once more.”

No. No. NO! “That’s not fair!” you yell. The tears are streaming down your face in earnest now; all of the distress of this game and the Toymaker’s psychological torment can no longer be contained.

“Oh, und here comes dee tantrum,” says the Toymaker with a sigh. “I hates it ven zey get like zis. You must have ein forfeit…und I think I have dee perfekt idea to stop your ge-crying.”

The Toymaker snaps his fingers again. You open your mouth to scream at him…but nothing comes out.

You try again, but your mouth just flops open like a fish, with no sound attached to it whatsoever.

The Toymaker has stolen your voice.

“I have assisted you in another core aspect of your doll transformation,” says the Toymaker, the British swooping in over his tongue with ease. “I do not think most dolls can talk, do you?”

You awful…! But the words can’t even die on your tongue, because they never reach your tongue in the first place. There is a total disconnect between your mouth and your brain. Although you can fashion your lips into the correct shapes and try to push the air into forming syllables, none of them can escape your mouth.

The Toymaker has silenced you, taking away perhaps your only remaining asset in this game.

You mentally tally up the points, and realise he’s right. You are now tied, and six turns have passed.

“But I cannot tolerate a tie. Dee rules dictate zat ve must perform a tie-breaker challenge…” His accent ripples between the German and British easily, as if he can’t decide between childish delight and cool professionalism. “Do you have any suggestions for a tie-breaker?"

The devastation of losing your voice almost made you look over this detail. Yes, he’s right: for all of your suffering, the Toymaker hasn’t actually managed to get a point over you. That means all is not lost.

That means you still have a chance to win.

But you cannot strategise in a vacuum: much less when you can’t speak. The Toymaker looks at you in amusement, as if expecting you to try and talk anyway. You could have written a message down on a piece of paper, or typed it on your phone, but you decide not to give him the satisfaction. The Toymaker has already gotten you on the rules twice: you are going to play within his boundaries and win fair and square.

You don’t see where he produces the hat from. A flourish of the arm, and it’s suddenly in his hands: a beautiful top hat which would have gone perfectly with a tuxedo. The Toymaker flips the hat over and proffers it to you.

“Ladies first,” he says with a sly smile.

You reach into the hat and are surprised to find a variety of small, paper tickets. After some rustling around, you pull one out and read it. When you do, your eyes go wide.

WHOEVER HOLDS THEIR BREATH THE LONGEST IS THE WINNER. “Vot fun!” exclaims the Toymaker, clapping his hands together in excitement. “I must ge-varn you, I am a very gut schwimmer, and kann hold mein breath for ein long time.”

But do you even have a lung capacity?! is what you would have asked if you could. How was this fair? The Toymaker is clearly an extradimensional being, and his physical body doesn’t seem to conform to the laws of physics, space or time…anything that would put a real challenge to this game. But you can’t say so: you have no way of telling him.

Besides…is it cheating if that’s just how he is? Is it cheating if he’s just better at the game?

A loud tick-tocking draws your eye to the right side of the toyshop. Against the wall (where it definitely didn’t exist before) is a grandfather clock. Both of the clock’s hands are almost at the 12. This was news to you; you’d arrived at the toyshop sometime around 8pm.

“Ve vill begin when ze clock strikes twelve,” says the Toymaker. “Zere are no fancy rules…ve just start ge-holdings our breath, until eins of us cannot anymore.”

The grandfather clock ticks closer to your demise. You look at the Toymaker in desperation, clasping your hands together in a silent plea…but he just looks at you coolly. Now, you are nothing but an opponent to defeat. You are an obstacle ready to be demolished.

Well, I am not helpless. If anyone is going to decide the winner of this game, it’s going to be me. With only thirty seconds remaining, you fish around in the pocket of your backpack and pull out your phone. You set up your video camera, prop the phone up against a toy monkey holding a pair of cymbals, and hit the record button.

“Ah,” says the Toymaker. “In case of ein photo-finish. Gut idea.”

There’s a cold fire in his eyes now: something which ignited when he took you into his personal void. You have no moves left, and no gameplay strategies to implement. It is clear that he is the master of games, and you may as well already be his doll.

But hell, you are going to try your best.

The grandfather clock strikes twelve with a loud, booming chime, and you suck in the largest breath of your life. You don’t balloon out your cheeks: instead you opt for a subtle approach learnt from musical training, where you draw in the oxygen deep into your lungs and will it to sit there for as long as you can handle.

By comparison, the Toymaker doesn’t look like he’s holding his breath at all. You merely hear him stop breathing. He looks totally at ease.

The first ten seconds are child’s play.

The first twenty seconds are fine.

The first thirty seconds are acceptable.

But by the forty-second mark a playful fire start to burn in your chest, and the urge to take a breath begins to beg. Inside you curse yourself, wishing that you’d practised— but why on earth would I have practised such a useless game?! You look at the Toymaker. Big mistake. He waggles his eyebrows at you silently, rippling them in an over-the-top-sultry manner. You feel your lips quirking up into a smile…You can’t believe it! He’s trying to make you laugh!

So much for respecting the rules, you think to yourself. Your chest is really starting to hurt now. But then you wonder, is that really cheating? If the Toymaker can try to make you laugh, what if you can make him laugh too? But you shut down that idea immediately: if you prancing around in a frilly dress singing I’m A Little Teapot didn’t make him laugh (just clap!), you didn’t have a chance in hell.

Oh no. What is he doing now? While trying to focus on holding your breath, the Toymaker had conjured two familiar puppets on the ends of his hands: Punch and Judy. With a final, victorious wink, the Toymaker begins a silent, over-the-top slapstick routine with the puppets. Even without dialogue you recognise the beats of the show; Mr Punch is a mess of a man, overwhelmed by the demands of his wife and baby (the latter brought into being with a tiny, adorable puppet the Toymaker wears on one of his thumbs). His hands move with such finesse that the puppets almost look real.

Such a gaudy routine wouldn’t have been enough to make you laugh by itself, but the Toymaker brings a whole new dimension with his wonderfully expressive face. Each time the long-suffering Judy begins a voiceless tirade of her husband (i.e., throwing little puppet-objects at his face), the Toymaker supplements Punch’s depression with a frown worthy of a theatre mask. When Punch manages to land a hit on his wife or baby (My God, were these shows always so violent?), the Toymaker grins with such deranged glee that you can’t help but find it hilarious.

Oh no. You look at the clock: it’s been a minute, and your chest is really starting to hurt. The Toymaker and his puppets make your cheeks puff out with the effort of not laughing.

He smirks at you as Punch picks up his wife and baby and tosses them into the air, punting them like footballs. It’s so absurd and ridiculous that you can feel the giggle rising up in your chest. You desperately want to open your mouth and suck in oxygen but you can’t, you simply can’t, because if you do you’ll lose the game and he’ll keep you here forever…!

As your remaining seconds tick closer to your inevitable failure, you close your eyes. You want to have one last moment to remember yourself as you are, because you are sure whatever the Toymaker is going to do to you will not be pleasant.

Your chest aches. Your cheeks bulge. Your will starts to unravel.

And then, you have the idea.

It’s a stupid idea, and with barely any seconds left to execute it, you have no guarantee that it will work. But as you open your eyes and look at the Toymaker’s smug ‘I’ve already won!’ expression, you know you have no choice but to follow through with your mad plan.

So, holding on to every last bit of breath you have, you lunge at the Toymaker—

—and envelop him in a bone-crushing hug.

Several things happen at once:

The first is the Toymaker exclaiming in surprise, his breath clearly lost, and dropping his puppets, which dissolve into ash as soon as they hit the floor.

The second is your desire to breathe finally overpowering you as you collapse against the Toymaker, and the two of you tumble to the floor.

The third is the grandfather clock exploding. Just as you hit the ground the clock bursts apart, firing out wooden shrapnel with a horrifying bang! On reflex you huddle yourself against the nearest form of safety, which in this case happens to be the Toymaker’s chest.

You weren’t expecting him to hold you back.

The two of you stay like that for some time: you and the Toymaker, on the floor together, breathing heavily and wrapped up in each other’s arms. Despite your own adrenaline, you can’t understand the Toymaker’s terror: surely he caused the clock to blow up? He certainly wasn’t in any danger.

But then you hear a sound you couldn’t hear before. It’s the thrumming of the Toymaker’s heart, loud and insistent and desperate to survive. You hear it through the fabric of his waistcoat, and feel it in the pulse of his neck. For just a moment, the Toymaker seems to be just as human as you.

You wonder if the Toymaker’s mortality is contextual.

Eventually, you manage to disentangle yourself from the Toymaker’s limbs. You peek at the smoking remains of the grandfather clock, and are relieved to see that nothing has caught fire: there’s just a scorched, black mark where the clock once existed. The shards of wood which exploded out from the clock have disappeared.

Thankfully, your phone is untouched! You pick it up, pause the recording and watch it back. A smile stretches across your face.

“Oh, Toymaker!” you say, and you are so very pleased that your voice has returned. “You’re going to want to take a look at this.”

When the Toymaker climbs to his feet, you are immensely amused to see that his perfect curls have been knocked a bit by the explosion. For the first time since you met, the Toymaker is dishevelled and confused. It’s a cute look on you, you think.

“You broke my game,” says the Toymaker incredulously. “How did you do that?”

“No idea,” you grin. “Maybe it was an unexpected outcome. Still within the rules, still a valid way to win, just…unorthodox.”

You show the Toymaker the recording. You watch as his expression turns from bafflement, to despair, to outright blazing anger.

“No!” the Toymaker cries. “You can’t have beat me!”

But the camera never lies. The footage on your phone clearly picks up the Toymaker gasping in shock as soon as you hit him with your hug…whilst you don’t gasp for air until a few seconds later, just before the grandfather clock explodes.

“Seems like I have!” you say happily.

“But I…you…” The Toymaker’s fingers flex in the air meaninglessly, as if looking for a straw to grasp. “But that’s cheating!”

“No it isn’t,” you say with confidence. “There was nothing in the rules about us not being able to make each other lose our breath. If you making me laugh was a valid strategy, then me hugging you was too. Either we both cheated, or no one did.”

The Toymaker looks like he’s been slapped, and it is a delicious feeling. You almost want to pinch his cheeks. With a pout fixing his lips, the Toymaker snaps his fingers…and your clothes return to normal. Your dress is gone, replaced by the clothes you entered the shop with.

(Is it a little silly to be regretful of that fact…?)

“I still say that shouldn’t count,” says the Toymaker sullenly. “That was an underhanded tactic. I’ll be writing that into the rules next time.”

But you’ve turned away from the Toymaker now—he obviously needs to work through his sore-loser feelings in his own time. You trot over to the doll shelf, pick up the beautiful doll in the powder-blue dress and cradle her in your arms. She truly is a wonderful prize.

When you turn back around, the Toymaker is sitting on the floor with his hands hugging his knees. You feel a pang of sympathy for the man…it seems this really is his whole life.

“But why did you hug me?” the Toymaker asks, baffled. “That’s not a winning strategy. You just surprised me. You were so…”

The Toymaker looks up at you with shining eyes. This time, his eyes really are wet with tears.

“...Warm,” he whispers.

The triumph of your win quickly sours on your tongue. The way the Toymaker is looking at you gives you a powerful feeling…and it’s not one that you like. Even though every part of you is telling you to make a run for the door while you have this post-win window…you don’t.

Instead, you sit down cross-legged on the floor next to the Toymaker, just like you did when in the void. You even bump your shoulder against his.

“I’ve been sad a lot in my life,” you say. “But I’ve never felt as much sadness as I did in your void. And it made me wonder if…you’d ever been held before.”

The Toymaker looks at you with flashing eyes. His bottom lip trembles as if he’s trying to hold back a lifetime of grief. He doesn’t say anything, but those eyes tell you all you need to know.

“I wouldn’t mind coming around here sometimes,” you say gently.

The Toymaker looks at you like you’ve got two heads. “You would voluntarily subject yourself to my life-or-death games?”

“Maybe not the life-or-death part,” you say hastily. “But I had fun today. Weird, horrible fun. You’re kind of a weird and horrible guy…and I’m pretty weird too.”

To your surprise, the Toymaker actually laughs at that. “You are unique, meine Liebling,” he says, German once more. “To out-ge-smart me, you must be.”

“Well…maybe it’s a good thing we met,” you say. “Maybe you don’t need to keep luring in suspecting people to your shop, Toymaker. Some of us might actually want to stick around and play. And maybe…”

You rest your head against the Toymaker’s shoulder.

“...Maybe I could help keep the cold out for a while.”

The Toymaker and you sit in silence for some time, listening to the gentle whirs and clicks of the toys going about their business. You keep your new doll tucked between your legs, and your cheek resting against the Toymaker’s shoulder. He’s so warm that you find your eyelids fluttering: you could easily fall asleep right here.

It’s a surprise when you feel the Toymaker’s fingers sliding into your own. You look at him, and see those telling blue eyes alive with fresh excitement.

“It’s a deal,” says the Toymaker, with an enormous, brilliant smile.

You let the Toymaker pull you to your feet. To your amusement, he grants you a deep, formal bow.

“Run along now, meine Schatz…today must have been ge-xhausting for you. But I shall be seeing you again soon, ja?"

Other people would not have caught it, but you know what loneliness sounds like: you hear the edge of desperation at the edge of the Toymaker’s voice. You take a step back and return the bow with a curtsey.

“Ja, genau,” you grin.

The Toymaker’s smile could have outshone the sun.

That night, when you return home, you take all of your dolls out of your closet. You line them up with care on your shelf, making sure to pose them prettily and smooth out the creases in their frocks.

But you keep your new doll in your hand, and clamber into bed with her. Before you turn out the light, you look one last time at her perfect, dimpled face.

Oh, what games will you and the Toymaker play next?

#the toymaker x reader #the toymaker x you #the toymaker #doctor who #the celestial toymaker #dw #the giggle #fanfiction #x reader #starleskawrites #i don't know what came over me but it sure was fun to write 🥰💖#long post

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makeste · 5 months

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BnHA Chapter 407: Wait Why Are You Running Away

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan figured out how to control his quirk upgrade and was totally chill and normal about it. Definitely not terrifying at all. He actually spent the entire chapter smiling and laughing like the wholesome little boy he is. I don’t know why Kid For One is so freaked out about it. He even politely introduced himself using his childhood nickname. Clearly he just wants to be friends with you, KFO!

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “sorry to keep you waiting, here’s the AFO and Yoichi flashback you ordered at long last” and proceeds to serve a nightmarish stew of HUMAN MISERY and RATS and STABBING and CARNAGE and SO MUCH MURDER and THE SINGLE MOST FUCKED-UP CASE OF CODEPENDENCY ANYONE HAS EVER WRITTEN. I was not even remotely prepared for any of this, and if anyone else claims that they were, I will call you a liar to your face. If this chapter had a mouth it would scream. Or just sob, ceaselessly and uncontrollably. I’m really glad Horikoshi is on break next week because that man needs to take a fucking nap. My god.

okay WOW

anyone else read the first two words and just immediately say to themselves, “oh okay, so it’s gonna be one of those chapters”? I mean, I guess we were due for a darker chapter after last week’s Kacchan Comedy Tour. but idk, I just wasn’t expecting “homeless sick prostitute with a drinking problem” levels of dark

AND SHE’S PREGNANT?!

what exactly is this manga rated again? doesn’t this backstory seem just a little bit raw for the impressionable kiddos??

has anyone actually checked in on Horikoshi recently? you know, just to make sure he is okay??

what a fun and wholesome manga this is

the lil baby arm covered in blood with the AFO hole on the palm. lying next to the dead mom hand. what an image to sear into our minds. I guess it’s been a while since he killed any dogs. gotta keep us on our toes somehow

also wasn’t expecting AFO and Yoichi to be twins! that puts an interesting spin on their relationship, because it’s usually a closer bond than even regular siblings. especially with all of that delightful shared trauma from a young age!!

yes, exactly

ohhhh this chapter is gonna hurt me, isn’t it. okay. ooooooookay. let’s do this

OH I’M SORRY, THERE’S MORE?!

Horikoshi my dude. you do realize that their mom dying in childbirth and the two of them just barely surviving and growing up as street orphans would have already been MORE than tragic enough, backstory-wise. you did not have to turn this into a freaking horror show with RATS TRYING TO EAT THEIR NEWBORN SELVES jesus christ

and THAT’S where you chose to put a one year timeskip?!

what the fuck am I reading here, you guys. no please tell me, I am actually desperate to understand

so the narrator is saying that some of the quirks manifested later in life, in “pubescent and pre-pubescent stages”, which is interesting because it’s the first time I can recall hearing about someone actually manifesting a quirk that late. maybe Deku’s old OFA cover story was more plausible than I realized

anyway so eventually it occurred to everyone that they should maybe freaking study this shit, idk. and eventually the researchers concluded that the superpowers came from a new gene that apparently isn’t human. and upon hearing that, society apparently lost its freaking mind. which is fascinating to me because it implies that the turning point wasn’t actually the superpowers themselves, but the realization of what it meant

like, so they were apparently fine with it when they thought it was a “mysterious disease”, but somehow it hit different when they learned it wasn’t actually a sickness at all, but instead the Next Step in Evolution. and it became an “us vs them” thing, as opposed to a “we have to cure these poor people” thing. damn

anyway so now Japan is a dystopia and we’re cutting to a big crowd of merc-looking dudes who are getting ready to attack some “meta freaks”, how lovely

but who is this figure in the shadows

I ask politely, as if it wasn’t already beyond obvious that this is AFO about to wreck some people’s shit

ohhhhh my god lmao

hopefully Katsuki and Deku can take the present day AFO out before he winds up looking like this. because this little fella is clearly demonic and idk if anyone can stop him

you all don’t understand. you need to run the fuck away right now

oh shit it’s already too late for them

it’s too late for any of us. it’s over. it’s all fucking over

((((；゜Д゜)))

AFO I am putting the manga down. I am backing away slowly with my hands in the air. I mean you no harm. please for the love of god have mercy

holy

“you see, we told you he wasn’t human” okay Scientific Research Group, you know what?? you win this round I guess

“HE WAS LITERALLY EVIL FROM BIRTH” HORIKOSHI SERIOUSLY ARE YOU OKAY??

HE WAS BORN AN ARROGANT BABY is literally the most terrifying sentence I have ever read

what the entire fuck

it’s a gorgeous sunny mid-November afternoon outside my window. but no matter how hard it tries, the light cannot reach this place

what kind of moron would throw a can of soda at him. officially the stupidest person we have ever seen in this manga

OH MY GOD OF COURSE IT’S HIM LMAO

(ETA: how come baby Yoichi has clothes that fit him perfectly but baby AFO is just stomping around wearing a tablecloth.)

BABY YOICHI. OH MY GOD. HOW THE HELL DID YOU GROW UP TO BE SANE AND KIND AND GOOD. THAT’S MY QUESTION THAT I NEED ANSWERED RIGHT NOW. YOU ARE LITERALLY A MIRACLE. YOU ARE AN IMPOSSIBILITY, DO YOU KNOW THAT

small and weak, but also so, so cute. all of the cuteness genes went straight to him. no wonder AFO was jealous

(ETA: just want to press pause for a second to speculate about what type of twins AFO and Yoichi are, since it has some relevance to the story, and especially to the OFA/AFO quirk lore. so! at first glance the two of them would appear to be fraternal twins, just based on the fact that they have very different appearances, and also the fact that Yoichi doesn’t have the AFO quirk – no holes in his hands, etc. identical twins are born from the same fertilized egg, so in theory they would both have the same sequence of DNA, which means Yoichi would have had the same quirk as AFO. but that doesn’t appear to be the case. so all of that points to them being fraternal, not identical.

on the other hand, there is one piece of evidence in this chapter that does support them being identical twins, and that’s the fact that per the narration, AFO absorbed most of the nutrients from their mother. a few minutes of google fu informed me that this condition is relatively rare, and only happens in cases where two twins share a placenta, which typically is only the case for identical twins. HOWEVER, for what it’s worth, there have also been rare instances where two fraternal twin placentas fuse together and become a single placenta. AND this apparently also increases the chances of one of the twins gaining more of the nutrients and causing the other twin to have a lower birth weight.

so based on the evidence here, my conclusion is that the two of them are most likely fraternal twins with a case of placental fusion. besides, you can’t tell me that stealing his baby brother’s placenta while the two of them are literally still in the womb doesn’t sound like exactly the type of BS that fetus!AFO would pull, lol.)

HEY!?!

okay?!?!?! well to be fair he did throw that soda at him

oh my god this is so fucked up. in like the best and worst way possible

I genuinely couldn’t ask for a better AFO backstory. it’s so incredibly twisted, and you actually do feel sorry for him. or at least I do. but it’s also beyond clear that this kid was FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL REASON right from the get go. zero goodness in him. literally doesn’t see other people as people. sees them as possessions only. things to rule over. not other thinking, feeling human beings. and that includes his own little brother

but. even if it’s not actually what I would call love, there’s still... attachment, there. it’s the closest he can get to actually caring about someone. guh. just, somehow they have both managed to humanize him, and at the same time made him less human than ever. this manga, man. this fucking manga, though

lmao and here we go. Captain Hero

you know, all those times that I made fun of AFO for not knowing how to read, I never suspected that the twist in his backstory would be that he LITERALLY DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO READ dfksjdlfkjslkdf

but seriously though. because Yoichi appears to be self-taught, and I can’t see AFO having the patience for that, and CLEARLY no one else was around to teach him, sooooo...

oh my goodness it’s actually getting wholesome up in here

what a good fucking boy. poor AFO. fuck me, I can’t help it. it’s not your fault you’re the world’s greatest monster you poor bastard

now we’re cutting to THREE YEARS LATER. okay

is he going to declare war on the glowing baby

typical teenager concerned about nothing but likes and view counts. AFO you would be so much happier if you stopped worrying about all of that and just focused on your own growth

oh, lol. well that was quick

(ETA: r.i.p. Damien.)

“this guy had more instagram followers than me. so I killed him” honey. sweetie pie. you need therapy

omfg

all this time I was wondering who AFO’s middle school lit teacher was who had failed so spectacularly at teaching him reading comprehension. and it was YOICHI ALL ALONG. omg

“and, presumably, that’s how it always was and always will be.” dude. can you imagine listening to AFO’s oral book report on A Tale of Two Cities. “ahem. it was the Best of Times. the end” buddy noooooooo

it was at that moment when Yoichi knew, etc. etc.

oh my GOD I scrolled down to the next panel right after this one and I just IMMEDIATELY DIED LAUGHING

“WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID” ffffffffffffffff I fucking can’t omfg

NOW THIS HUSSY IS STEALING HIS BROTHER AWAY FROM HIM NOOOOOOO

HE’S HIS!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! THAT’S NOT ALLOWED!!!

oh my god the hands. so wait, is this just the standard symbolic BnHA handholding, or are there More Levels To This. when exactly did Yoichi pass OFA on to Kudou. like is that why the sudden close-up and all that? omg

WHAT!!!!

OH THAT’S THE END, HUH? THAT’S THE END RIGHT THERE, AND THAT’S JUST HOW IT IS. I SEE. OKAY THEN. EXCUSE ME WHILE I PUT MY LAPTOP DOWN AND GO INTO THE NEXT ROOM AND SCREAM INTO A PILLOW

oh my god. and break next week too. this is what you guys have been dealing with this entire time huh. I understand your feelings now. godfuckingdammit lmao

#bnha 407 #all for one #shigaraki yoichi #ofa the first #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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xanasaurusrex · 7 months

Note

hi can u make some hcs of hecate’s cabin/childs?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ hecate cabin headcanons ࿐ྂ

of course i can do hecate cabin headcanons! i love hecate, she's one of my favorite of the gods. also, fun fact, there's a lot of debate on where hecate originated, like they think that maybe she was an anatolian goddess that the greeks "stole," and she also has some egyptian history? i did some research on her real quick and it was honestly fascinating! anyways, here are the hecate cabin hcs!

something to note about hecate kids is that all of them, every single one, is kind of a mystery in their own respect

there's a lot of mystery surrounding hecate, so even the most open of hecate kids is going to have something they're keeping to themselves

hecate kids, specifically before they're kind of taught to master their abilities, have a habit of accidentally spelling people

like, for example, say a hecate kid has a really annoying kid in their bio class that won't shut up

if they think really hard about how much they want that person to shut their mouth, magically, they will

it's something they were never able to explain

until they were claimed by hecate, of course

they also all have dark eyes

not necessarily a good color, per se, but there's something about their eyes that are dark

most hecate kids get her green eyes, which could only be described as "enchanting" of course

the hecate cabin often smells like burned sage and/or incense, and always has a smoky hue because of that

there are star charts and moon charts and things like that literally everywhere, practically littering the cabin floor

hecate kids are kinda messy

all of them, just find it really hard to keep themselves organized enough to make the cabin organized enough

this gets them into trouble sometimes, but they have... ways of convincing whoever's inspecting the cabin to leave them alone

hecate kids also always have crystals in their pockets

like, literally, at any given time, with an outfit that has pockets, they have crystals that are used for different things in said pockets

they have necklaces and earrings and rings with crystals on them as well, all having different purposes based on what they want their day to be like

there are a few kids at camp who are like "crystals don't even work" and blah blah blah, but the hecate kids know better

the kids that say that are usually idiots, but yknow

(obviously i'm not saying that if you don't believe in crystals irl you're an idiot, but this is camp half-blood and their mother is hecate, so obviously they're gonna work for them)

hecate kids can sometimes be known as "two-faced" when it comes to relationships

this probably comes from the fact that their mother has three faces

except this is a more literal meaning in this sense

the hecate cabin also does a lot of tarot readings

that's like, one of the first things you learn at camp if you're claimed by hecate

everyone has their own deck, and it's customized to you, it's a whole thing

it's like hecate cabin culture kinda

if you have a hecate child friend, you've probably gotten your future read by them at one point

obviously future-telling is more an apollo cabin thing, so the predictions usually aren't correct, but it's fun anyways

ooh! and ouija boards

ouija boards with the hecate kids are so fun because they get so into it, and usually it's actually working and they're actually talking to a dead person

i mean, it's camp half-blood

probably a lot of people have died there (rip)

it's especially fun if they can manage to convince a hades child to play with them, because then the hades kid can actually hear them and help translate if the ouija boards are being kinda confusing

it's not the most reliable way to talk to a dead person, as any hades kid will tell you

hecate kids are also avid readers

not as consistent as athena kids, but they have their own little library in the hecate cabin, with lots of fantasy books and historical fiction

they're also really good with recommendations, so if you ever need a book rec, honestly go to the hecate kids first

they take your personality and reading background into account when giving you a book rec, and pretty much every time, whatever they recommend, you're actually going to enjoy

hecate kids also make the worst chariots

when they do the chariot race (i'm not sure if this is actually something they do on a regular basis, but they did it in one of the books in the original series so i'm going with it), and every cabin has to make their own chariot, hecate makes the worst chariots and get out first almost every time

honestly it doesn't really bother them anymore because they just genuinely have no idea how to make a good chariot

hecate isn't exactly known for her fighting abilities

usually in battle, the hecate kids stay as far away as possible and use their magic to help the fight

hecate kids are also criminally indecisive

they’re the masters of eenie meanie miny moe

they’re also known to have coins always rattling around in their pocket because sometimes they have to flip a coin to make a decision

they also have lots of magic 8 balls even though they know they’re faulty

(faulty, not fake 😉)

moving on

hecate kids also really like tim burton movies

it might have something to do with the fact that tim burton is a hecate child, but they also just really like the movies

they give off the same vibe

(there is a rumor at hecate cabin that tim burton used some hecate baby magic to make his movies)

only occasionally though

so yeah, that’s all i have for hecate kids

they’re all super unique and interesting

they are definitely sort of strange, but that’s what makes them so cool!

sorry if that was awkward i never know how to end these things

so that’s it for hecate cabin hcs! i had so much fun writing this, and thanks so much for the request! i just wanted to say thank you to everybody liking and following and reblogging for the support, this is already so fun! i have a couple requests for different cabin headcanons and that i haven’t been able to get to because ive had to rewrite this one about three times, which is kinda frustrating, but i love how that turned out! thanks sm for reading!

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #heroes of olympus #hoo #riordanverse #riordanverse headcanons #cabin headcanons #hecate #hecate cabin #cabin 20 #camp half blood #chb #chb hcs #percy jackson x reader

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eightstarr · 7 months

Note

hi zoe! after your last ellie post... i can't stop wondering about how your ellie and abby were like when they were in highschool. i fully believe ellie got side bangs bc she wanted to look like chloe price. (she looked like justin bieber)

anyways i love you (not in a gay way ofc.)

-penis cat anon

omg i had so much fun thinking about this!! i love you too but in a gay way because i'm gay. i'm sorry to have to tell you like this in front of all these people 😮‍💨

and no actually i think ellie wanted to look like justin bieber :) i can see her being a fan ngl. she looks like she has the weirdest gender envy and justin bieber would've been like her dream body to be in when she was 14

as for her as a student i think i've mentioned this before but i think ellie loveddd history so much! i can also see her being really good at math but not even realizing it. art class was okay but she likes to do art at her own pace and IF she feels like it so i think she would've hated assignments. like don't tell her what to do!! she's only picking up a pencil if she wants to!!! otherwise she's putting no effort in, so sorry about it

socially i think she was the kid that gets adopted by the nice pretty girls because she's funny!! they love her <3 i can see her not really having very close friends until she's older though! i feel like she was more closed off than she would like to admit for a really long time, but she's way better now. it's a work in progress!

abby as a student is like fascinating to me. i could think about it for hours. i think the obvious thing is that she was really incredibly, amazingly, annoyingly good at everything. but she's so cool!! how can you hate her? she has one best friend and speaks to literally no one else but if you drop your pen she'll pick it up for you, you know? that's abby

but she's so mysterious like i can't even tell you what her favorite subject was!! and i don't think she knows either like she's just naturally a good student and by the time she's high school age, she just views all of it as simply the steps that lead to the next thing (she's had a life plan since she was 7) (it's written in pink crayon) (her dad has it framed). but that doesn't mean that she hated school! she has lots of fun with her friend and grows a really lovely connection to sports and makes sooo many significant bonds with her teachers. she thinks about them sometimes and writes them really nice emails that could make grown men cry

and yeah there were like 85 people that had a serious crush on her but if you went to high school with her and bring it up she'll be like "???? what do you mean??" she's silly <3 i can talk about her forever and i think it shows, my bad :)

#modern!ellie #modern!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson headcanons #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams headcanons

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annymation · 1 month

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Kingdom of Wishes- A "Wish" Rewrite AUs

AUs are Alternate Universes, new ways to look at how a story could've gone if a few things were slightly different, it's a fun writing exercise to take your story and change it up a bit to see how the characters would react to these changes.

So I did that with my wish rewrite, and I came up with some pretty fun scenarios.

(Warning: that’s a lie, some scenarios here are not fun at all)

So let's begin:

Asha the Star & Aster the Human

That's exactly what it sounds like, Asha and Aster switch places!

In this scenario, Aster is an orphan whose mother was a musician, that's right, musician, not an artist

His grandfather used to say his mother could sing so beautifully and write songs so engaging that people could see whole stories form in their heads, she inspired people to imagine whole new worlds

That was Aster's dream, to write beautiful melodies, sing a song that could inspire people, see beyond reality

So same things that happened with Asha happen to him, he defies the royals (Who also change in this AU, we have Amaya as a queen regnant, so she's above in power than Magnifico, she being the one who has blue blood while he got married in, and their personalities switch. To me that's the funniest thing, like can you imagine Amaya as the drama queen that get's the whole spotlight and has anger outbursts sometimes like the Red Queen and Maleficent? While Mag is in the background just being calm, mysterious and I guess having a fatherly persona? What a twisted vision)

Anyway so they take Aster's wish, change it up yada yada yada Aster goes to make a wish upon a star and we get Star Asha babeeeyyy

Now design wise, Aster as a human would have brown hair, while Asha, as all wishing stars, would have blonde hair, with this hair style

Loooooong blonde braids that flow in the air constantly like Princess Celestia hair from MLP, and speaking of princess, yeah, she dresses like one too.

Imagine being human Aster here, you wish upon a star and suddenly a beautiful magical princess with gorgeous flowing hair shows up to help you, I would've died

So anyway, Asha has a very energetic and optimistic personality, and much like Aster was in Kow, she's fascinated by earth

When they come up with a plan to inspire the people of Rosas, Asha's idea is to make people draw, express how they feel, make them reflect if they're really happy with this system

Aster of course thinks that's not a good idea at first but she convinces him, so the whole arc of them being found out at the plaza happens yada yada yada let's cut to the good stuff

Instead of giving Aster a magic pencil, Asha enchants his's grandfather's mandolin, so Aster can play beautiful songs that can magically bring anything he imagines to life

So then we get their "At All Cost"... But I actually think Star Asha would sing a different song, she'd sing something like this:

youtube

This song just gives me major Kow! Asha vibes, and I'd love if Asha was played by Denee Benton cause I'm a huge fan.

And then the story proceeds as usual and we get to the climax, where instead of singing This Wish Reprise he'd sing something more like this:

youtube

Once again, I'm here to say I love Jordan Fisher and I can't imagine anyone better than him to voice Aster.

So yeah he'd have a very dramatic song where instead of using his guitar (That the queen broke) he uses only his voice and the last bit of Asha's magic to defeat the royals, along with everyone's hopes on his side.

Sooo yeah Asha later turns into a human thanks to true love's kiss, her hair turns dark brown, the end!

I like exploring this one because it shows how Asha and Aster are different with her being an artist and him being a musician, human Aster would be very different than the Aster we know though, being absolutely focused on the task at hand of saving his people, so Asha would help him loosen up a bit and have hope things would be better.

Kids AU

Okay so this one is more of a joke, but like... Kingdom of Wishes... But it's Ponyo, only genderbent

Basically I asked myself "What if Asha wished upon Aster when she was a kid?" well, when she was a kid, so was Aster.

So we'd have a story of a little 6 year old becoming friends with her wishing star. While her grandpa Sabino, still alive and very old, tries to hide this star and protect his spunky granddaughter from the king and queen that are after Aster

Of course the royals would have a harder time finding out who could've wished upon a star since they don't know who Asha is as a kid

But on the other hand, Asha and Aster would be a lot more naive and reckless, Aster would tell Asha "Hey! The king and queen are really mean! They change the wishes, wanna defeat them together" and Asha would be like "YEAH!" and off they go put themselves in danger

Don't think Magnifico would go easy on Aster just because he's a toddler, oh no, he'd drain all this child's power as soon as he caught his hands on them, which is why Sabino would be having a panic attack trying to keep them safe.

But what's really cute about this scenario is just imagining kid Aster interacting with the world, using his magic to play with Asha, and of course Sabino being a protective grandpa.

Bad Ending AUs

You guys know me, of course I have a whole section for not one but TWO bad endings lmao I'm so evil.

What If Asha's Cursed Wish Was Granted?

Yup, remember Asha's cursed wish? That would turn her into a obedient princess that would follow Magnifico and Amaya without question? Remember that wish? Yeah what if THAT happened hahah

Anyway, I thinks it's best if I just show you how that'd play out (Warning, the angst is STRONG in this one):

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

"That's right, now hold still my dear, this will feel just like waking up from a pleasant dream." The king said as he lifted up her "wish" to grant it.

Asha felt herself frozen in fear, she wanted to speak up, but the fear of what could happen to her if she did outweighed her her strength to fight back.

She could only watch as the bubble popped and became a swirl of green magic enveloping all around her. Asha felt herself change, and not only because her clothes began to magically morph into a beautiful dress... She felt herself change from the inside out, starting with her mind.

Her desire to run away was muffled by a new desire to stay still as the king asked her to. But Asha knew she had to fight back because- Why did she have to fight back? This is what she wanted, to fit in and make people happy, now she finally could, thanks to Magnifico- Asha heard a voice that sounded like her's fill up her mind, popping any idea of resistance like bubbles- Why resist at all? It's easier to give up- She couldn't give up, she couldn't lose herself- But she doesn't even know who she is, and everyone tells her she's like a princess anyway, don't they? Her saba used to say so, her friends, even Aster said she's beautiful like a princess-... Why isn't he here?

She felt her eyes welling up with tears, realizing how helpless and alone she was. Asha knew she couldn't hold on to her consciousness for much longer, as the king's magic promised to make all her pain go away, leaving only bliss, her own freewill was fading away. But even then, a little bit of her is still fighting, tightly clinging onto the last semblance of thought she has left... Before it suddenly slips, and everything is gone… She is gone.

... She did feel like she woke up from a dream, the king was right, as he always is.

The magic that was surrounding her disappears, fully absorbed into Asha's very being. She's now fully transformed, wearing a princess gown, her hair braided and pulled up into a bun that resembled a rose.

... A single tear ran down her left eye, but the cheering crowd couldn't see it. All they saw was her smile, a blissful, carefree smile plastered on her face.

...

Aster ran back to the plaza as fast as he could. But once the star arrived there... Asha was gone, and so were the royals. The people were walking around commenting about what just happened... He heard people mumbling about how kind the king and queen were for adopting an orphan girl to be their princess...

All it took was one moment, one moment of distraction, one moment that Aster turned away from her... And he lost her... But they wouldn't give up, never, as long as he's on this earth, he will grant her wish, her true wish, no matter the cost.

The star didn't even think twice, revealing his true form in front of everyone, and flying off to the castle to look for Asha.

He looked through all the windows, all the many rooms of the castle, until he stumbles upon a room on the west wing tower, and in there, sleeping peacefully on a comfortable bed, he saw-

"ASHA!" The star screamed, using his magic to unlock the window, he got in and quickly shook her to wake her up "Come on! We gotta get you outta here!"

The princess rose up from the bed, gracefully stretching her arms as she did so, blinking her now unfocused eyes, that if you look closely you could see a small and faint green light sparkling in the center of her pupils.

She smiled at the star as if they were paying her a visit "Greetings Aster, so wonderful to see you-"

Aster grabbed her by the shoulders and just shook her back and forth "SNAP OUT OF IT! This isn't you! You're stronger than his magic, I know you are! You can fight it! Come on, Asha, look at me!" Aster gently places a hand under her chin to make her look at him in the eyes, he can't see her spark anymore... But he still reaches out to her "You wished upon me because you wanted to SAVE Rosas from them, remember? That's the whole reason I'm here, to help you." they give her a bittersweet smile, even though he's filled with sadness.

The girl giggled, in any other context it would be an adorable sound... But it just filled Aster with dread, seeing how his words weren't getting through to her at all. But nothing could've prepared Aster to what she said next "... Then where were you when I needed?"

... Those words pierced through him like a dagger, the star was speechless, now just staring at her, filled with sorow

"Indeed, where were you?"

Aster froze upon hearing the king's voice coming from the other side of the room. He turned around to see both Magnifico and Amaya sitting on comfortable chair next to a table with tea, if Aster could smell he would've probably felt the sent earlier.

"You took so long we were starting to wonder if you just flew back to the sky" Amaya said before sipping on her tea cup

Aster tried to escape through the window, but before he could reach it, he was trapped by the king's magic.

Magnifico and Amaya laughed as the star struggled with all his might to free himself from the king's magic, to which the king just jeered "I suppose a princess was of use to us after all, serving as bait to catch you, little prince"

And just like that, Aster is all alone at the villains mercy.

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

I tricked yall with a false sense of security starting with two wholesome AUs only to then drop the most heart crushing stuff I've written in a WHILE.

Also thank you @gracebeth3604 for inspiring me to write that scene of Asha losing her conscience as the spell took hold of her, when you helped me write that nightmare sequence in chapter 8... So yall can blame Grace for this /j

Aster Turns Himself Into A Blackhole

What a title huh? Anyway, I've said plenty of times how Aster is very inspired by Rapunzel, so I wondered, what if that "Wither and decay" song from the Tangled series affected Aster the same way that it affected Rapunzel?

I didn't quite explore much Aster's frustration with the fact he couldn't hurt the king and queen the same way they hurt Asha, that's kind of a more internal frustration he doesn't show much, but it proves how human Aster is, to the point that he feels human emotions such as vengeance

But as we say here in Brazil: "Revenge is never complete, it kills the soul and poisons it."

So... Let's see if Aster choose a darker path, after he thought that he lost Asha for good in the climax.

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

Aster was chained to the floor, all he could do was watch in horror the king drop Asha and all their friends off the tower.

... She was gone...

Just like that, Aster couldn't keep her safe, like he promised he would.

Without her, Aster felt his world growing dark, his own light was fading away. There was no hope for him, no hope for Rosas, no hope of granting her wish... So... Aster had nothing... So he had nothing left to lose.

... The star remembered once listening to a song, a song that stars sing when they're at the very end of their long, LOOOOONG lives. After all, everything must come to an end. The lyrics of this song were actually an incantation, a spell of death that allowed a star to snuff their own light away, turning themselves into... Something else... Something a lot more destructive.

The stars always warned him to NEVER sing that melody. And fly away as fast as he could if he ever heard some other star singing it... Aster never knew fully why, all they said was that the song would make him dangerous...

Well then... That was just what Aster wanted to be right now.

Suddenly, Aster felt the touch of the queen's hand, snapping them out of their thoughts. She lifted his scowling face, to give him a snark comment before they began to drain away his power "What's with the grimace, my dear? Is there something you wish to say?"

And so... The star began to sing.

"🎶... Wither and decay...🎶" Aster's voice was haunting, not at all as warm and lively as it always was when he sang... This was different.

Magnifico was previously looking down on his people, but the sound of those lyrics made the king turn around in cold sweat... He knew that spell.

"🎶...End this destiny...🎶" Aster continued to sing, his eyes were closed, and his face began to contort with discomfort. The star felt himself... Change.

The queen just raised an eyebrow and mocked "What's this? Trying to put us to sleep with a lullaby? hahaha *cough cough* haha" She didn't seem to pay much mind to her own coughing

The king minded it a lot though. He could see the roses on Amaya's hair begin to wither rapidly.

Magnifico's voice was trembling as he ran to his wife "A- Amaya-"

"🎶...Break these earthly chains...🎶" Aster opened his eyes... They were completely dark.

The queen's blood ran cold "wh-what ON EARTH-" she feels herself being pulled away from the star by her husband.

"ENOUGH! I ORDER YOU TO STOP!" The king commands, using his magic to cover Aster's mouth with glowing vines similar to the ones holding him down... But the star... Or rather, whatever Aster is becoming, is not weak to forbidden magic.

Aster breaks free from Magnifico's magic, leaving the two royals mortified.

"🎶…And set the spirit free…🎶" Aster didn't even react to the fact he was free, in fact, they didn't seem to notice the world around him at all, lost in their despair, all they could do was sing, floating above the ground. Tears kept running down his now inky black eyes.

Their hair changes from a yellow and lively flame to a dark and slowly shifting shadow. The star dust flowing out of their cape disappears, now his cape hides only dark nothingness under it. The light coming from the brooch bellow his neck now resembles a vortex... A blackhole.

"Magnus... I thought you said this thing was harmless" The queen is clinging to her king, she begins to feel... Strangely lightheaded, like she’s about to pass out.

"I- I didn't think the star would do this- *cough!*" The king feels a pain in his chest, his legs growing weaker. He stumbles forward "We- we must leave NOW"

But Aster had other plans for them, the former star finally moved. In the blink of an eye the king and him were face to face. With one swift motion Aster took the king's staff and threw it away from the edge of the tower.

The royals were shaking in fear, the entity was towering over them, dark inky tears still flooding his expressionless face.

As a last resort, Magnus desperately tries to reason with them "He-hehe now now Aster, let's talk about this, alright? You wouldn't actually want to-"

"🎶Take what has been hurt🎶" The haunting melody continues.

The king and queen kneeled down. They felt weaker by the second, the queen was whimpering and the king was gasping for air. It was becoming hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to think. They were both holding on to each other, even though they could barely hold on to their own lives.

"🎶Grant them no mercy🎶" Aster was looming over the two mortals, staring at them as they withered away. Aster felt himself grow stronger, for he was slowly but surely absorbing their very life essence... The corners of his mouth started to lift up slightly.

The two villains collapsed on the ground, shaking and wincing in pain.

"🎶Bend and break the reigns🎶" He was previously emotionless, but now, seeing them like this, Aster is consumed by a feeling he never thought he could feel before... It was ruthlessness. He was enjoying seeing the life drain away from them, the same way they wanted to drain his life away before... In a way, Aster understands them now.

The power to take was really different from the power to give... But if felt just as good, if not better.

"🎶And set the spirit free... The spirit free~...🎶" Aster finishes the lyrics, looking at the two lifeless bodies below him with twisted glee.

... Asha arrived at the top of the tower, as she never actually died, she managed to save herself and her friends with her magic pencil, and with it, she made her way back to Aster, hopeful that she could save him in an nick of time

"Aster! I'm here! Are you o-" She felt her heart stop, her whole body frozen in place when she saw the corpses of the two royals laying down... Beneath a floating figure that looks like Aster... But she knows that's not him "What... What have you done?" Asha takes a few steps back

He doesn't seem at all surprised to see her alive and well, simply tilting his head to the side as he floats towards her "What I had to. I mean, that's what you wished for, right? To defeat them." The creature spoke calmly, but with a twisted smile spread across their features.

"No-not like THIS!" She was trembling, seeing her own reflection on the dark pools that he now has for eyes "A-Aster please, this isn't funny, turn back to normal, NOW"

"Hmmmmm I don't think I can" They shrug, while drying the tears that were previously falling from his eyes "And even if I could, why should I? When like this, I can actually keep you safe"

"... Keep me safe from what?" She felt tears welling up on the corner of her eyes, Aster couldn't really be gone, right?

He embraced her, but it wasn't the same warm and secure embrace Asha fell in love with... He was holding her tightly, not letting her run away.

"From anyone who tries to keep us apart, of course." The blackhole whispered lovingly, but that gave Asha no comfort, it only cemented her fear, sending chills down her spine "And as long as your wish doesn't come true... As long as aaaaall those people down there aren't free... I'll be able to stay here... Loving you... Forever." They sound more and more deranged with every word.

Asha felt trapped, in the arms of the one she once loved.

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

I bet ya'll weren't expecting evil Aster... Welp! Evil Aster is a thing now.

This is probably the darkest thing I’ve ever wrote for real, don’t let me do this again yall

@uva124 actually sneaked a little drawing of this Aster in one of her sketches here

So yeah! These were the alternate AUs! Two wholesome ones, and two very heavy with no comfort ones, perfectly balanced as all things should be.

Hope you guys forgive me after this hahaha see you guys next time! Bye!

Thank you for reading!

#Youtube #wish rewrite #wish reimagined #kingdom of wishes #wish 2023 #wish #wish movie #wish star #wish au #disney wish #wish disney

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starlingbite · 10 months

Note

Ooooh. 34. odd socks? For soft prompts :)

Being in hospital sucks, having to stay over the weekend is even worse. Buck tries not to pout too much about the deal, especially when there’s nothing anyone can do about his burst appendix.

To make matters worse, the team are still on shift, Maddie is at the call centre for another few hours, the TV is on the fritz and he’s in a shared room with a guy who snores. He’s bored out of his mind and the painkillers aren’t strong enough to knock him out so his first night was spent listening to the buzzsaw five feet away.

He wastes a few hours on his phone until it runs out of battery and then begs a nurse to bring him something to read. She returns a few minutes later with two editions of Cosmopolitan Magazine printed in 2020 and a well-read copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. He flicks through the book for a bit, quickly discovering some prude in the hospital has censored all the fun bits with a black marker and then moves on to the magazines.

He’s halfway through a quiz to discover which character from Gilmore Girls he is when Eddie bursts into the room, a bag hooked on his forearm and a pile of books hugged to his chest.

Buck perks up immediately at the sight of Eddie “Hey” He greets him, “Thank god you’re here, I think Cosmo thinks I’m a Logan when I’m obviously a Jess.”

Eddie blinks at him for a second, completely lost.

Buck grins, “Nevermind, what you got?”

“Oh, well Maddie asked me to pick up some stuff for you, she’s hoping to visit later but Jee-Yun has a temperature so.”

Buck immediately forgets his own health concerns, “Oh no, is she okay?”

Eddie smiles back softly, “She’s a kid, they have a temperature like every other week, she’ll be fine.”

Buck relaxes back against the pillow.

“Anyway, I knew you’d be bored in here so I brought you some books. Chris picked these ones out for you.”

The pile of books is placed on the table by his bed and Buck tilts his head to one side to read the titles on the spines. There are a few history books, a thriller he’s halfway through and a book about wildfires that TK sent him for his birthday.

“Nice.”

“I also picked up your charger,” Buck’s eyes widen at that and reaches out towards Eddie for the cable dangling from his hand.

“Thank you, God.”

“Or thank y’know, me,” Eddie replies with a teasing roll of his eyes.

Buck gives him a sincere look, “Thank you, seriously,” he hugs the charger to his chest.

Even with the medication he’s on making him a little loopy, he doesn’t miss the flush of red that fills Eddie’s cheeks or the way his lashes flutter as he looks away. It only makes Buck smile wider.

“Anything else?”

Eddie clears his throat, “Oh yeah,” he drops the heavy-looking bag at the foot of the bed, barely missing Buck’s toes. Not that Buck would feel it anyway, his feet are freezing thanks to a lack of proper socks in the hospital.

“So uh, there are some snacks, grapes, cereal bars in here, should be easy on your stomach right now,” he begins to dig items out of the bag as he talks and Buck just watches in fascination as more and more items are retrieved. “I also picked up some clean clothes for you for when they let you out of here, oh and I know your feet get cold and for some strange reason we’ll dissect at a later date you sleep in your socks so I picked some up for you and I know you have a favourite pair so I wanted to bring you those but then I couldn’t remember if it was the red fluffy pair or the white ones with the blue stripes so I uh...I brought you one of each, just to be sure.”

Slowly, Eddie lifts the two odd socks out of the bag and holds them up in the air.

Something about the sight of the socks and the look in Eddie’s eyes like he’s ready for Buck to berate him for not knowing which pair of socks are his favourite leaves a matching tightness in his throat and in his chest.

He loves this man.

His heart somehow clenches and soars at the same time. He doesn’t dare glance over to see if his heart rate monitor is betraying him.

“You got me my favourite socks?”

“I tried to at least,” Eddie huffs

“Eddie-”

“I should have just brought you both pairs,” Eddie realises in that moment, “I’m an idiot.”

“Eddie-”

“And a sweater, I should have picked up a sweater, that one with the thumb holes in the cuffs was sitting right there on your dining table and I was going to pick it up I swear but then I was restocking your fridge and then Christopher called and we got distracted picking out books for you and-

“Eddie!” Buck’s voice cuts through the babbling and even manages to wake up his roommate.

Eddie finally stops talking.

“I love you.”

After thinking about it a thousand times over the last few years, Buck finally admits it out loud.

A flurry of emotions passes across Eddie’s face and for a split second Buck regrets his admission but then Eddie’s lips curl up into a wide smile.

“Yeah?” He asks, a little hopefully. Like he can’t quite believe when Buck just told him.

So he says it again.

“I love you…like a lot. For a million different reasons. But right now I love you for bringing me two odd socks.”

Eddie laughs. “Want me to help you put them on?

Buck nods, “Kiss me first.”

So Eddie does.

*****

Thanks for the prompt!

From the soft prompts list here

#buddie #buckxeddie #911 fic prompts #soft prompts

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krikeymate · 10 months

Note

I had a thought! What if we put Sam in Wednesday as Wednesday's big sister... Wednesday is still very much Wednesday, but Sam (we can rename her, but I have no ideas right now :P) and Wednesday have a different bond. I imagine it could be similar to how Wednesday reacts to Uncle Fester, she just genuinely adores him and can't hide it, and it's the same with Sam. So, Sam's the odd one in the family. She loves them, but they're just too weird for her, and she just wants to be normal. So once she's 18, she leaves. She keeps in touch, though. Leaving behind her siblings and especially Wednesday doesn't feel good, but she can't stay either because she's not happy about their parents' parenting style. She knows they mean well, but she's incredibly over-protective, and watching her parents poison the food or celebrate the kids for almost killing each other is too much for her. She leaves before the relationship between her and her parents can get even more strained because it gets harder and harder for her to watch it happen.

Since she's keeping in touch, she knows that things grow difficult between Wednesday and the parents, too. Wednesday is getting in too much trouble, and her parents don't seem to have it handled at all. So Sam returns, but Wednesday has already been sent to Nevermore. Sam visits her there. Maybe she even takes a job as a teacher later on, to be closer to her sister. God, imagine how much fun it would be to watch Sam absolutely lose it because she's trying to keep Wednesday safe and out of trouble, but Wednesday is an absolute nightmare to keep safe. Like, she understands that Wednesday wants to solve crimes and stuff and that her sister is weirdly fascinated by it, BUT Wednesday's way of solving crimes is literally walking into traps and seeing what happens next... Sam would have a horrible time as Wednesday's big sister :P

Also, Sam getting her hands on Tyler after the season 1 showdown... she always thought that Wednesday was the violent one in the family. Turns out she has a pretty violent side, too, and she even enjoys it :D And Wednesday watching Sam do her thing with Tyler... she adores her big sister even more after it.

Ok so like the idea of Morticia and Gomez just having a relatively normal child as their firstborn is so funny to me. Imagine how relieved they are when they finally have Wednesday and she's their normal. They were doubting themselves for a few years there, as their firstborn was nothing like any Addams that came before. It feels like all the Addams' weirdness was saved for their middle child, because even Pugsly doesn't come out quite so strange.

They love all their children and they do their best to raise their firstborn in a way that fits their needs. Despite their differences, Samantha (her name is supposed to be Satana, but the nurse at the hospital misheard her when writing the birth certificate. They call her Satana anyway, until Sam puts her foot down and demands to be called Sam), adores her weird little sister. And Wednesday adores her back, in her own little way. Wednesday is even gentle with her big sister, she didn't even need to be told that her big sister is... special, that she has special needs, Wednesday just knew. Her intelligence and observation skills become apparent so young.

Sam chafes under her unusual family, always feeling like an outsider. Wednesday listens to none but her big sister, will accept advice from no one else. She's on a school trip when Nero gets killed. She comes back to a crushed little sister, quiet and withdrawn. Wednesday pulls away after that, shies away from her touch. Sam lives for the moments she slips her hand into hers anyway. The little moments that remind her that her little sister is still there.

School is a nightmare. Wednesday gets bullied. Sam does her best to scare the bullies away, but it's fruitless, she isn't there to protect her. She learns Wednesday can protect herself. At 18, she gets an opportunity to go to college abroad, to study Psychology. Her family are so so proud, even after they realise it won't involve dissecting brains or lobotomies. Sam's hesitant to go, with all the problems at school Wednesday's been having. Her sister tells her, in her own stoic way, that she is foolish if she were to consider passing up the opportunity (that she'll miss her, that she understands, that Sam needs to find out where she belongs). On the day Sam leaves, Wednesday lets her hug her and kiss her on the cheek. Their father and Pugsley are sobbing and begging her not to leave. Their mother lets out a few tears of her own, her baby is going out in the big wide world alone, going where they can't reach her if she needs her. And so fragile. They try to send Thing with her. Sam reminds them that Wednesday and Pugsley will need Thing more. That she'll be okay. That the world isn't as scary as they fear it is.

Sam gets frequent letters from her parents and Pugsley, tales of Wednesday's schemes and heartfelt I miss you's. She gets one a quarter from Wednesday, all matter-of-fact and a succinct summary of the past months. Then the letters stop for a while, and Sam hears nothing. It worries her. She books the first flight home for Winter break. She learns her little sister almost died. Did die. The way Wednesday brushes it off infuriates her.

She registers for a position in Nevermore. Her mother's wry smile as she passes by her that evening looks suspiciously knowledgeable.

Wednesday goes back to school, exasperated, with her big sister in tow.

Enid LOVES Wednesday's big sister. She's like how the fuck are you two related. She gets major hero worship for Sam. Wednesday gets SO WEIRD about it. She feels possessive over Sam. She feels possessive over Enid. Sam's the one who realises Wednesday is jealous, and that's she's jealous because she has a crush. She is so excited to finally get to tease her sister about something so normal. She'll cherish Wednesday's blushing face for the rest of her days.

When Tyler comes back, Sam realises she really is an Addams after all. Wednesday has always reiterated that Sam is an Addams, no matter how abnormal she may be, but she's never felt it until the moment she blinks and finds herself over a bleeding body, her awestruck little sister smiling up at her from the floor. The bruises on her cheek, around her neck, they fill her with an all-encompassing rage that she grinds her teeth to hold back. She steps away and picks her sister up - too enamoured to care that her reputation is being ruined. Sam finally gave into the darkness, and she did it for her. This is the best day of Wednesday's life.

#/mp #ask box #Wednesday Netflix #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #Wednesday Addams #miscellaneous scream au's #wednesday au #The Addams' treat Sam like she's a special needs child because in their world she is vs the normie world where she's perfectly normal #Wenclair

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vltnoire · 1 year

Text

the 5 love languages

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ suna x reader. enemies to??? 🤔

understanding your way of expressing love is something suna’s good at.

If only you’d listen to what your friends had to say about the party earlier, maybe you wouldn’t end up being drunk on a Monday night and to make it even worse, perched on none other than Suna Rintarou’s lap.

But you’re drunk out of your mind and you’ll end up forgetting about it anyway, right?

–

“Sweetheart, just how much have you had to drink tonight?” When Suna gently pushes your hair away from your face (definitely not a result of pushing people out of the dance floor and claiming it to yourself earlier), that catches your attention. You’re quick to slap his hand away and you remain on his lap with your shoulder in the crook of his neck.

“Enough that the embarrassment from dancing like a dimwit is starting to kick in.”

“I’d say you’re a natural.”

“Shut up.”

“Why’d you come here alone? You could’ve called me and I’d pick you up.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d even have your number saved on my phone.”

“You’re not answering the question.”

“Why should I?” Your eyes start drooping and he doesn’t want you to fall asleep just yet. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to be able to see you drunk out of your mind and the fun has yet to begin.

“Let me guess. Your boyfriend broke up with you?”

“Huh. It truly fascinates me how smart you can be sometimes.”

“What’d he do this time?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I just do.”

Suna loves it. He loves the feeling of your cheek on the side of his neck. He loves the feeling of you tracing unidentifiable shapes on his arm. He loves it when your physical affection is rolling your eyes at him and punching him in the arm at his witty remarks. He loves it when your words of affirmation would be coming across your tweets, most of them regarding a guy who seemingly needs to get off his high horse, on his timeline despite knowing that you blocked him on Twitter the last time he checked. He loves it when your quality time with him consists of you and him frittering away time by arguing about the most insignificant and trivial matters during lectures and without fail, getting kicked out by the professors. He loves it when the gift he receives from you is the absolute hatred you have for him. He loves it when your act of service is you calling him Rin and when he gives you that look with a lovesick smile, you kick him in the shin and run away. He loves how expressive you can be when it comes to conveying love.

“Rin.”

Did he also mention how much he loves it when you call him Rin?

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you take the last piece of brownie during that sleepover?”

“It happened once!”

“So you’re saying it’s possible for it to happen again?”

“Don’t tell me you’re upset about that.” As petty as you can be, he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I was 12! Of course I’d be upset. Or did you forget that you looked at me before running away with that piece of brownie and ended up dropping it on the floor? I hate you.”

“Fine. Continue to act like you hate me.”

“I do hate you. Wholeheartedly.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart.”

Suna shoots you a lopsided grin that makes you internally fold. But then you give him a look most sane people would say inscrutable, Suna thinks it’s love.

Do you know how irresistibly charming your eyes are?

“Our kids can have them if you want.” At that his face instantly reddens and his skin grows hot. Are his thoughts that loud? Maybe he should take your advice and learn to hold his tongue sometimes.

Your snore pulls him out of the daze.

“I know you’re not asleep! You can’t just say that and pretend to fall asleep!”

Suna’s constant whining turns out to be your lullaby as you end up dozing off on him with a slight grin on your face that he does not fail to notice.

#suna fluff #suna x reader #suna headcanons #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarou x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons

349 notes · View notes

blue-jisungs · 8 months

Note

HI! QUESTION

What is your opinion on rival pirate reader x rival pirate woozi???

:)))

enemies to lovers speed run.

sea salt flavoured kisses

author's note. hehe i feel like this was inspired by the hoshi pirate thingy i wrote….. and my opinion on that is: smash. would write. 10/10 would and will recommend. like. this is my jam, i love writing fics in those settings + WOOZI? E2L? he’s perfect for that. i have another e2l planned with him lmao bye anyway, i hope you enjoy this :D

also tagging @l3visbby bc i promised!! u deserve a gift for working so hard and i hope this can make u feel a bit better teehee

summary. while visiting your hometown, jihoon gets you in trouble. and luckily for him, he (somehow) gets you out of it too

word count. +- 2.9k

warnings. umm swearing, alcohol consumption, blades (dagger), blood, violence (people get slapped and kind of hurt but uh it’s not specified if they’re dead or not 😇), ment (?) of being hung ++ lots of cameos :D

stepping out of your cabin, the smell of sea filling your nostrils and warm sunshine hugging your skin; you stretched lazily, trying to shake off the rest of slumber in your body.

“oi, captain! you’re finally awake!”

you turned your head and sent yunjin a sleepy smile. her and chaewon giggled at you. nodding, you decided to take a stroll on your deck and observe your crew.

the girls who greeted you were fixing the ropes and gossiping. as usual, but at least they did their job well.

sakura, the oldest (after you) on the deck and your quartermaster, was sailing while you were asleep. you sent her a wave and she waved back. eunchae and kazuha were listening to taehyun as he walked them through the usage of canons. well, of course they will have to only clean them at first but later on they’ll be able to fix them if necessary. and shoot, like taehyun or yeonjun. they just needed the training.

beomgyu and soobin were out of sight, probably scanning the maps for the next journey. kai wasn’t near, so he probably sat with them and observed them curiously (like he always does).

the youngest members of your crew were cleaning. you all’ve been there so it was nothing strange. sure, they complained but due to their youthful nature and vigour they did the job fast. and fun.

riwoo, jaehyun and leehan were mopping the floor while splashing each other. sungho alongside taesan and woonhak were in charge of food today… which means it might be interesting. and hopefully not burnt, like the last time yeonjun and beomgyu cooked together.

walking up to the railing of the upper deck, where sakura was navigating, a smile spread on your lips.

“we’re close” you breathed out, heart swelling in your chest. your homeland…

you fixed your hat and leaned a bit, admiring the land from afar.

“do you think the boys will be happy?” you asked, turning around. sakura took a deep breath and shrugged.

“no idea… they wanted to leave but it’s been a long time, so maybe they won’t mind a quick visit” she hummed

“it’s been a long time for them, huh? then i wasn’t here in ages” you whined and sakura just let out a laugh.

“you’re ancient, captain”

you were born and raised in hybe, one of the biggest islands. growing up in a poor household, a neighbourhood filled with thieves and poverty made you adapt quickly to such environment. at the age of 6 you started pickpocketing. by the age of 10, you were a quite good – you’d say so yourself – thief. your parents didn’t really care, as long as you brought money or food home.

because of that you wanted some freedom, to start a new life. stories about pirates always fascinated you and you always sneaked into the docks whenever a bigger ship would arrive.

and one day you just snuck on a ship… and stayed there, thanks to the pirates’ kindness. this made you realise they aren’t always the bad guys.

during one of the visits back home, you met the young boys on a street. doing exactly what you did as a kid. you knew how can it affect them negatively so you decided to offer them a somehow better future. and of course they agreed, because y/n of hybe became a famous yet mysterious pirate known here and there. they heard about you; hell, who wouldn’t? besides, you remember when they were born – or more like dropped off by the orphanage next door.

so will they miss their hometown? they weren’t there as long as you… and you… you missed the town, not the people.

arriving at the land, you stepped almost hesitant.

“we’re leaving tomorrow, this time. go have some fun, rats” you grinned and ruffled woonhak’s hair.

you let out a deep sigh and started walking. no, you let your legs lead you.

you found yourself walking amongst the old, sketchy paths of your old town. memories flooding back, too deeply in the nostalgic feeling you failed to realise that another ship docked.

visiting a bar at the end of your small journey when the sun has set, you ordered a glass of rum and sat back at the dark corner of the room. thinking about your next trip, you watched the people there. most of them were just drunkards or hazard addicted people.

then you frowned upon noticing – or thinking you noticed – a familiar face. it was a quick movement so you weren’t sure. maybe it was someone else…? but still, you had to remain cautious. you need to return to the ship tomorrow anyways.

playing with the dagger that you stuck into the wooden table, you took a sip of the alcoholic beverage.

you’ve come to a conclusion this may be your homeland, but certainly not your home. your place is on the ship, with your crew–

“well shiver me timbers, who do we have here?”

you looked up lazily, knowing the voice too damn well.

“jihoon” you sighed, meeting the man’s gaze. he sat down in front of you, placing his own glass. also filled with rum. you pointed at it “amongst all those things we disagree on, at least our alcohol taste matches”

he tsked and took a look around.

“what are you doing here?” you hissed, leaning forward. jihoon observed the gold coin dangling on the necklace on your neck.

“what are YOU doing here?” he back fired, ebony irises almost black due to the faint light.

“it’s literally my island. you’re not from here, so stop acting like a local” you grunted and tightened your fingers on the wooden grip of your dagger.

“we agreed not to cross paths ever again” he said, voice low. you let out an amused huff, looking away. the door from the bar were constantly opening and closing.

“i remember. i said i’ll kill you when i see you next time” you said through clenched teeth. jihoon swiftly grabbed the dagger and started sticking it between his fingers, palm flat on the wooden table.

“i’d like to see you try. from what i know, you rather barely visit your home. so why you’re here?” he asked.

jihoon was your… enemy? any other pirate was your enemy, technically. but he… he was a real bastard. always stealing your treasure, almost as if he knew where exactly are you heading to next. and he’s cocky about it to – leaving notes and visible tracks. last time he went way too far.

he sunk your ship.

luckily, no one got harmed but the damage was done in your heart. the black cat, your beloved ship has kissed the sea’s bottom. since then you promised yourself to get revenge – and that’s why you may or may not insisted on visiting hybe.

because apart from you being the island’s hidden gem, there’s also illegal but very effective gun powder and explosives business. bang sihyuk, the driving force behind it owned you a favour so–

wait. if jihoon’s here, then he must have discovered it.

your eyes snapped back at him just when you felt the cold metal tip poking at your exposed throat. the dangerous glint in jihoon’s eye and handsome smirk made you even more angry. because he just played you and read like an open book.

“hah… oh, y/n. you’re real cute sometimes” he cooed, tilting his head. your dagger in his hand pointing at your throat. for seven seas, this is humiliating. you felt a trickle of blood run down your skin “i could easily kill you right now. quietly and quickly, but where’s fun in that–“

before you said anything, someone pulled jihoon back. and you as well. cold metal suddenly making contact with your wrists made you gasp.

“well, well, well… who do we have here… y/n l/n, lee jihoon. the two most wanted captains”

you turned around and if looks could kill– well, jihoon would already be dead months ago. and this man too.

“i’m the chief of city guards, kim namjoon. and you two are under arrest. with no way out.” the man crossed his arms and grabbed your chin, tilting it up.

namjoon. you remember him. he was…

“by tomorrow you will hang, together. and i’ll get a promotion. oh woah, who knew this day will end so well…” he smiled.

“namjoon?” you breathed out. your partner in crime, quite literally. he helped you steal when you were younger.

“officer namjoon to you. i’ve cut ties with you, y/n the moment you ran away. and now, look at me and look at you. you’re a shame to the society” namjoon huffed and let go of you harshly, causing you to stumble and fall onto jihoon. then he spat, right in front of your shoes “fucking pirates… take them to the arrest”

“this is all your fault, moron!” you grunted, kicking the metal bar of your arrest.

of course they had to put you in one cell with jihoon.

“mine? wha– this is ridiculous!” he scoffed, hands crossed on his broad chest.

“if you minded your business, you wouldn’t draw attention to me or you” you pointed at him and were met with silence. he knew you’re right “great. we were supposed to leave tomorrow? or today? there’s no bloody light in here”

“my crew will save me” he snickered.

“as if mine won’t. i bet they’ll be here soon” you mumbled and sat down on the cold floor because he was sitting at the bench. or something that was supposed to be it. he tsked and stood up.

“you should go to sleep” he murmured quietly, awkwardly standing next to the bench.

“no”

the man let out a deep sigh, eyes tracing the walls. the only source of light was a small lamp lit on the corridor wall.

“go to sleep” jihoon said, voice more stern this time.

“why? so you could arrange me in my sleep? no thank you” you huffed, pulling your knees closer to your chest and resting your chin on them.

“no. so you could finally shut up” he mumbled. obviously. it’s not like he cared. certainly not because the floor was cold and you would be cramped if you fell asleep on it.

you let out a small sigh, eyes observing the moths that gathered next to the lamp.

“i can’t believe i’ll hang in my hometown with my enemy” you muttered, closing your eyes.

when you woke up, you were laying on the bench. immediately sitting up straight, you startled jihoon out of his slumber. on the floor.

“why did you do move me? i’d cut–“ you started

“my hands off. yeah, yeah. that’s why i did it while you were sleeping” he yawned, arms shooting up to stretch lazily “i figured you’d want to get some sleep for the last time in your life”

you were about to say something when you heard footsteps. in no time five guards arrived.

without saying anything, they grabbed you out of the cell and handcuffed you both. sending jihoon a confused stare, he shook his head.

your legs weren’t really cooperating, so the guards dragged you along. after a long, monotonous journey in the dungeons you finally stepped outside.

the sudden sun blinded you both, especially after so much time spent in the darkness. then you realised you’re being walked down to the platform with hangman’s noose already prepared for the both of you. one walk downstairs and you’ll die because of a public hanging… and bloody hell, that’s a lot of people–

you halted your movements, digging your heels into the floor and pushing back.

“i refuse to believe this” you let out an airy laugh and caught jihoon’s shocked expression.

the guard suddenly slapped you; the impact so powerful that you fell on the floor. you felt your eyes water and cheek sting.

“yah! what do you think you’re doing?! you’re a guard and you hit a woman?! pathetic scum” jihoon hissed and nudged the guards that held him.

he kneeled down, pressing his head against yours. before they lifted him back up, you felt his breath fan over your skin

“i have an idea, just trust me” he whispered “are you alright?”

you nodded and jihoon got dragged away. then you heard another slap.

“she’s a pirate, i don’t see a reason why i shouldn’t hit her–“ the guard started.

you got lifted by two men and watched jihoon spit on the man in front of him. a smirk of satisfaction painted on his lips as the guard’s eye twitched.

“next time try punching someone your size, eh?” he cooed and the guard slapped his other cheek. his face turned to you, eyes squeezed shut.

“jihoon!” you yelped, jumping to him. before the guards could yank you back, jihoon turned around and spat at the man in front of him again. then he kicked the man with full force, so he fell down the stairs. using the distraction, he swiftly (almost as if he had experience) put his handcuffed hands in front of him by bending his knees and quickly moving them to the front. you did the same, definitely less gracefully and almost losing your balance.

then you felt his hand awkwardly grab yours and–

“go!”

you ran down the stairs with him, jumping over the man at the bottom. the rest of the guards followed you, shouting and screaming.

jihoon ran through the crowd, pushing with no hesitation whatsoever. his grip on your hand remained steady, scared to lose you.

“which way? you know the city better!” he asked, turning his head back.

“this way!” you ordered, leading him to the right.

even if the guards will follow you to the poorest place on whole town, there’s a plenty of good hiding spots. running through the houses and dirty streets, people watching you and pointing fingers.

you arrived at the local market. it wasn’t too sanitary but that wasn’t the most important thing right now.

you ran up to the butcher whom you knew, distress all over your face.

“yah, hoseok! would you mind?” you asked, putting your hands on the table. he gave you a weird look but without hesitation – and with terrifying force and speed – cut your handcuffs with his chopper, covered in blood.

“your lover boy too?” he asked unbothered, almost as if he was trying to sell one more pound of meat instead of helping the prisoners escape. you nodded. once your hands were separated there was a sudden noise

“they went that way!”

jihoon turned around and saw the guards in armours that shone in the daylight. you were about to bend and dive under the stall when he dragged you away, next to the stall with flowers.

“i deeply apologise” he breathed out, the guards’ shouts becoming louder. they’re approaching rather rapidly and…

“about my ship?” you furrowed your brows. the men will walk directly next to you and he’s…

“no” he scoffed and before you could realise, he spun you around and leaned against the wooden bar supporting the stall “about this”

the men ran next to you as you felt jihoon’s lips crash on yours. one hand cupped your cheek, the other was resting next to your head. the kiss was chaotic yet somehow soft, his lips rough and teasing like sea salt.

you kissed him back, realising what was his plan. you pulled him closer, trying to hide your faces as much as possible.

the kiss turned more passionate, your fingers tightening on his linen shirt. the steps and shouts started fading away.

jihoon stopped and leaned back but not too far. head buried in the side of your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin. your stomach was making flips, almost like you were sea sick.

“they’re gone… i think” you breathed out, scanning the market.

the sellers chatted between themselves, fixing the products that have fallen due to the rapid movements of a bunch of men in armour.

“what… uhm, what was that?” you whispered. he rose his head up, boyish smirk blooming on his lips.

“dunno” he shrugged “i just wanted to kiss you”

“oh fuck off” you grunted, trying to walk away. but jihoon had you caged between his arms and the wooden bar. you stared at him – partly in disbelief, partly in amusement… and slightly in participation.

“are you alright though? that bastard slapped you pretty hard” jihoon asked, worry in his eyes. your fingers lingered on the cheek you were hit on and then you shook your head.

“it’s fine. it’s been worse, like having a dagger pointed at my neck” you snickered and hesitantly brought your hands to his red cheeks “what about you?”

“been worse” he repeated after you “although…”

you suddenly pecked his cheek, then the other one. using his taken aback state, you escaped his hold by walking under his arm.

“hope it will soothe the pain. thank you for helping me escape” you hummed “even though i take back what i said about killing you next time i see you… be on guard, jihoon. your ship will sink”

“yeah. we could kiss next time” he smiled nonchalantly and watched you walk away.

some part of him wanted to stop you but he knew you’ll cross paths anyway. and then he’ll make you stay, maybe for a little longer. and maybe his heart will stop fluttering like sails on a strong gust of wind.

wait.

his ship will sink?

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang ,, @nfrgirl ,, @crxzs

116 notes · View notes

papermint-airplane · 2 months

Text

OC Questionnaire

I was tagged by @stargazer-sims, @drawing-way-outside-the-lines, @bool-prop, and @happy-lemon. Hehehehehe now I get to do more than one! 😈

Aiden Ayy 👽

Name: Aiden Ayy

Nickname: He was definitely that kid who tried to nickname himself and then got frustrated when nothing stuck. Despite his best childhood efforts, Aiden has no nicknames. 😭

Gender: Male

Star sign: Gemini ♊

Height: 5'8"

Orientation: Pansexual

Nationality/Ethnicity: 100% Sixamite

Favorite Fruit: On Earth, pineapple. On Sixam, grarglefroot. It's basically a pineapple except blue.

Favorite Season: Spring.

Favorite Flower: I think I answered this before in a different post with some wild ass flower that looks like it belongs on an alien planet which is great worldbuilding and all but I literally forgot what it was so let's go with basic bitch roses. 😅

Favorite Scent: Cinnamon.

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: Aiden is up for any of these as long as they're spiked. He hasn't yet learned that not everyone does that all the time and that it makes you look like you have a problem if you do.

Average Hours of Sleep: Aiden doesn't actually need sleep! He meditates to restore his brain power but sleep isn't necessary for him. He's a lot like D&D elves in that way. He can choose to sleep if he wants to, though, because dreams are fun and he looks cute when he's eepy. 🥺

Dogs or Cats: Yes. Any animal at all, really. Aiden is fascinated with them.

Dream Trip: Sixam. Poor baby wants to go home. 😭

Number of Blankets: "I'm worried what you just heard was 'give me a lot of blankets'. What I said was 'give me all the blankets you have.' Do you understand?"

Random Fact: Aiden is based on a Sim I created in the Sims 2 when I was 18 for a Bachelorette Challenge. It was, predictably, a disaster, and the poor baby kept having mental breakdowns. I decided it was because he was new to Earth and the stress of all the unfamiliarity wore heavily on him, but it was definitely because I didn't know how to cheat needs at the time. He got a visit from the invisible psychiatrist more than once, you know? It became a character trait! Aiden, the nervous alien who just wants love. 👽💚

Roman Gallan 🧜‍♂️

Name: Roman Gallan

Nickname: "Hey Asshole". Guess who gave him that one. Go on, guess. (It was his little sister)

Gender: Male

Star sign: Leo ♌

Height: 5'11"

Orientation: Gay

Nationality/Ethnicity: Icthyan

Favorite Fruit: He's super fond of this obscure Earth fruit called a "lemon". He eats them whole, peel and all. Somebody please teach him not to do this. 😐

Favorite Season: Summer

Favorite Flower: Any and all wildflowers.

Favorite Scent: Cedar. Beating the moth accusations for sure.

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: Coffee. He likes it bitter and strong enough to crawl out of the cup under its own power.

Average Hours of Sleep: 5 or 6. He should probably sleep more but it's kind of hard when the distorted whispers of the primordial god that created your planet are emanating from your eye sockets. Most Icthyans learn to accept it as kind of a cursed ASMR, but Roman tends to sleep light anyway.

Dogs or Cats: Cats.

Dream Trip: It says here in my notes that he's always wanted to visit Uranu--ROMAN, SERIOUSLY?!

Number of Blankets: Roman's a hot sleeper, so no blankets for him, thanks.

Random Fact: Like all Icthyans, Roman is amphibious. He has lungs and can breathe on dry land like any Earth Sim, but he's also able to breathe underwater for an extended period of time.

I think everybody and their dog has done this one by now considering ol' Professional Crastinator Laura's stellar time management skills. 🙄 Let's throw a few names out, though. @miss-may-i, @treason-and-plot, @llamabees, @bellakenobi, @kimmiessimmies, @rebelangelsims, @moyokeansimblr, @id-element0. As always, ignore if you've already done it or just don't want to.

#tag game #tag meme #just simblr things #oc development #oc questions #sim: aiden ayy #sim: roman gallan

38 notes · View notes

ray4hotchner · 7 months

Text

Fate's Gentle Nudge

Chapter 6: Unbreakable (part one)

<<previous chapter ❀ last chapter>>

❀ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: aaron hotchner x reader

❀ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: fluff, fluff, angst, happy ending

❀ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 23k (part one and two together)

❀ 𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: Hi, besties! Sorry for taking so long to finish the last chapter. It's finally done, and it's a long one. Since it took me a while, I wanted to complete it entirely and not leave you guys with a cliffhanger. I hope you enjoy the last chapter. I'm thinking about writing small drabbles for this story, so let me know if you have something in mind. I'll divide the chapter into two parts so it's easier to read on Tumblr, but you can find the whole part on Ao3 as always. Anyway, I love you all. Thank you for reading!🤍

[18+ MDNI]

❀ 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: blood and violence, stalking, knife attack, mention of suicide and murder (let me know if there are any missing)

❀ 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕔𝕔: @iyv-ray24

┌─❀*̥˚──❀*̥˚─┐

On Ao3

└──❀*̥˚──❀*̥˚┘

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

"I knew it wasn't a good idea to let you in the shower," Y/N said as she and Aaron hurried downstairs to the building's garage, heading for Aaron's car. They hadn't overslept for long, but when Y/N got into the shower, Aaron joined her, and things went downhill from there.

"You weren't complaining when you had me on my knees," Aaron said with a devilish smirk as he unlocked the car.

Both of their hair was still wet, with hers wrapped in a towel. She was wearing Aaron's sweatshirt and joggers. They had to rush over to her place because she needed to change, do her hair, and get ready for school. She had promised the kids that they would be doing an experiment today, and she wasn't going to disappoint them.

They arrived shortly at her place, and he unbuckled his seatbelt, intending to go up with her.

"I would love for you to come upstairs," she says, leaning over and kissing him, "but you'll just distract me."

Aaron smiles at her affectionately. "Well, distracting you is one of my specialties."

She chuckles and playfully swats his arm. "Nice try, mister, but I really need to get ready for school."

Aaron nods, understanding, "Alright then, I'll wait downstairs until you're ready. I can still drive you to school."

She hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head. "No, don't. I'll take my own car. Someone could see us, and we need to be discreet."

Aaron agrees, understanding the need for caution. He leans over the middle console of the car, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss. Their mouths meet, and the passion between them momentarily erases the world outside. As she begins to pull back, he gently tugs her back towards him, a protesting sound escaping his throat.

"One more kiss, sweetheart," he murmurs.

"You make it really hard for me to leave, Aaron," she admits with a soft smile.

"Because I don't want you to," he confesses, his eyes filled with longing.

"I know, me too," she whispers, her voice filled with regret. "But I will see you soon, hopefully."

Reluctantly, he lets her go, watching her as she exits the car and heads into her apartment building. The anticipation of their next meeting already fills their hearts as they part ways, both hoping for the day when they can be more open about their feelings.

Inside her apartment, Y/N quickly got to work. She rushed into the bedroom to change into her work-appropriate attire. As she changed, she couldn't help but smile, thinking about Aaron and the passionate moments they shared. But she also knew her students were counting on her, so she focused on the task at hand.

After changing, Y/N took a few minutes to style her hair neatly and she applied some light makeup.

She decided on an experiment involving colorful water absorption. She wanted something engaging, educational, and, most importantly, fun. It was a simple yet fascinating experiment that would spark the children's curiosity. She gathered the materials she needed: clear cups or jars, and various food coloring.

The idea was to teach the kids about how plants absorb water through their stems while also introducing them to the concept of color mixing. Y/N had already brought the white flowers with long stems the day before and placed them in the clear cups.

As she arranged the materials neatly in a basket, her eyes fell upon the bouquet Aaron had brought her yesterday. It sat on the table, vibrant and fragrant. She couldn't resist the temptation and picked up the bouquet, taking in the lovely scent and smiling. Aaron had a way of brightening her day, even when he wasn't there in person.

With the white flowers in one hand and the basket of materials in the other, Y/N grabbed her bag and rushed out of her apartment, locking the door behind her.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Aaron returned to his now-quiet apartment. He couldn't help but smile as he picked up the remnants of their impromptu date night from his bedroom floor. Their clothes were scattered, a silent testament to the passion and connection they shared. He neatly folded them and placed them aside, his mind replaying the moments they had shared the night before. As he tidied up, he couldn't shake the warmth that filled his heart. Y/N was a remarkable woman, and he cherished every moment they spent together. Just as he finished cleaning up, there was a knock on the door. Aaron opened it to find Jessica standing there with two cups of coffee. "Morning," she greeted, holding up a cup of coffee. "Thought you could use a little pick-me-up and maybe we could talk." Aaron grinned in appreciation and accepted the coffee. "You're a lifesaver, Jess. Thanks." Jessica stepped inside, taking a quick look around. "I just dropped off Jack at school. Looks like you had quite the night, huh?", she says pointing at the wine bottles and glasses still in the living room. Aaron chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed. "Yeah, you could say that."

As they continued to chat over coffee, Jessica's concern began to show on her face. She set her cup down and looked at Aaron with a hint of worry in her eyes.

"Aaron," she began gently, "I can't help but be a little concerned about you dating Jack's teacher. I mean, it's wonderful that you two are getting along so well, and I know how much Jack adores her. But it's a tricky situation, isn’t it?"

Aaron sighed, understanding Jessica's apprehension. He hadn't expected their relationship to evolve so quickly and intensely either. "I know, Jess. I really didn't plan for any of this to happen, especially after Haley. It's just that Y/N is... she's different, and I didn't expect to feel this way again."

Jessica reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Aaron's shoulder. "I get it, Aaron. I really do. You deserve happiness, and if Y/N makes you happy, that's what matters most."

Aaron nodded, grateful for Jessica's understanding. "We're both aware of the risks, Jess. We've talked about it. We'll be careful, especially when it comes to Jack. I won't let anything risk his well-being."

Jessica smiled, her worry still present but softened by her friend's words. "I know you'll be careful, Aaron. And I can see how much you care about Y/N, too. It's just that... well, you know how protective I am over Jack."

Aaron gave her a warm smile. "I appreciate that, Jess. You've always been there for us, and I'm lucky to have you."

Jessica squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "Just promise me you'll keep an open line of communication with me about everything, especially when it comes to Jack. And if you ever need someone to talk to about this, you know I'm here, right?"

Aaron nodded, touched by Jessica's concern. "I promise, Jess. Thank you, our support means the world to me."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It was a quiet Friday evening when Y/N's doorbell rang, surprising her. When she opened the door, she found herself greeted by a delivery guy holding a stunning bouquet of winter flowers. They were vibrant and fragrant, perfectly matching the changing season outside. Y/N's heart swelled with warmth as she already knew these flowers were from Aaron.

They had been dating for two month now, and things were going better than she could have imagined. Aaron had made it a tradition to bring her flowers every week since their first date. Sometimes, when he was away working on a case, he would send her flowers to let her know he was thinking of her.

She carefully took the bouquet from the delivery guy and found a small card tucked amidst the blooms. As she read the note, a tender smile graced her lips. The message was simple yet heartfelt: "For the woman who brightens my life every day. - Aaron."

Y/N couldn't help but feel her heart flutter at his sweet gesture. She knew she had found something special with Aaron, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She took out her phone, composed the message, and snapped the photo, capturing the moment. "They are beautiful. Thank you," she wrote, "and I miss you."

As she hit send, she couldn't help but wonder how she had gotten so lucky to have someone as thoughtful and caring as Aaron in her life.

Over the past few weeks, Y/N and Aaron's relationship had blossomed in the most delightful ways. They had shared countless memorable moments, each strengthening the bond they had formed.

Their dates were often spontaneous because of his work. They visited museums, strolled through art galleries, and occasionally indulged in spontaneous street food adventures. On quieter evenings, they would cook dinner together, experimenting with new recipes and laughing at their culinary mishaps. These shared moments in the kitchen brought them even closer as they discovered their individual quirks and preferences. One evening, Aaron surprised Y/N with a cozy movie night at his place. They snuggled up on the couch with popcorn and watched classic films until the late hours. Y/N had never felt so comfortable and content in someone's presence. Their communication was effortless. Aaron's vulnerability and openness made Y/N feel safe, and she reciprocated by sharing her own thoughts and feelings. But no matter how busy they were, they made sure to connect daily, even if it was just a quick phone call or a sweet text message. And right on the queue, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She smiled as she saw Aaron's name on the screen and quickly answered.

"Hi," she greeted warmly.

"Hello, my angel," Aaron replied with a hint of affection in his voice. "I'm glad you like the flowers."

Y/N couldn't help but blush at the pet name, even though she secretly loved it when he used such terms of endearment. "You know I always do. How's work going?"

Aaron let out a sigh, and Y/N could sense a hint of weariness in his tone. "It's been challenging, to be honest, and things are a bit hectic."

Concern crept into Y/N's voice. "Is everything okay?"

Aaron reassured her, "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm fine. It's just one of those cases. But talking to you always makes my day better."

She smiled, her heart warming at his words. "I'm here whatever you need. Tell me about the case. Maybe talking about it will help."

As Aaron continued to share details about his challenging case, Y/N seized a momentary pause in the conversation to bring up something important.

"Did you get the email I sent to all the parents?" she asked.

"I did, but I didn't have the time to really read it," Aaron admitted. "Is it about the school trip?"

Y/N nodded on her end of the line. "Yes, it is. We're planning a visit to a natural history museum with dinosaurs and all that exciting stuff, and the kids will be part of a project."

"Sounds interesting," Aaron replied, genuinely intrigued.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before continuing, "You know, parents can attend too, but it's not mandatory. So you don't have to, but if your schedule fits... you know," she said, her voice tinged with uncertainty. She didn't want to force him into anything, fully aware of how busy he was.

Aaron considered her words for a moment before responding. "I appreciate the invitation, Y/N and if I can make it, I'd love to join."

Y/N's heart warmed at his willingness to consider it. "That would be wonderful, Aaron. I think Jack would be excited to have you there."

As they continued their conversation, Y/N listened intently, appreciating the opportunity to talk to Aaron even when he was preoccupied with work. However, her attention was momentarily distracted when she heard another voice in the background. It was a voice she faintly recognized as Derek's. Y/N hadn't met the team yet, but she had heard plenty about them from Aaron.

"I'll be right there, Derek, just finishing the call," Aaron said to his colleague.

Then, Derek's voice came closer to the phone, and he spoke a little louder, clearly intending for Y/N to hear. "Sorry for stealing your boyfriend, Y/N."

Y/N couldn't help but giggle on the other end of the line. "No worries, Derek," she replied playfully. "I'll share him with you guys, but only if you promise to take good care of him."

Derek laughed, and Aaron's voice returned to the forefront. "I'll call you later, Y/N. Thanks for making my day better."

With that, they said their goodbyes and Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment.

Aaron joined the team in the bustling precinct. Emily glanced at him with a knowing smile. She leaned in slightly and said, "One of these days, you have to introduce us to her, you know," referring to Y/N.

Aaron nodded, a fond smile crossing his face. "I will, Emily," he promised. "I'll make it happen really soon. But for now, let's focus on wrapping up this case before next week. I've got a field trip I need to attend."

The team exchanged determined nods, as they delved back into their work, they were all looking forward to the day when they would finally meet the woman who had captured Aaron's heart.

As the week flew by, the field trip day arrived. Y/N, along with several other teachers, stood outside the school by the parked school buses, each one adorned with a colorful banner displaying the destination: the Natural History Museum. It wasn't just Jack's class going on this exciting trip, it included all the second and third graders. The school parking lot buzzed with activity as children and parents gathered for the adventure ahead.

Y/N, dressed in comfortable yet stylish attire suitable for a day of exploration, couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. The children's enthusiasm was palpable, and she knew this field trip would be an unforgettable experience for them.

Parents and guardians chatted amongst themselves, some offering encouraging words to their little ones, while others helped organize backpacks and snacks for the day.

Y/N's heart swelled with affection as she spotted Jack in the crowd. His eyes were wide with anticipation, and he clutched his permission slip and backpack tightly. Just as she was about to make her way over to him, she noticed Aaron right behind his son, searching for their designated bus. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of them.

Aaron finally noticed Y/N amid the sea of children and parents, and he made his way through the crowd to greet her. However, they both understood the need to maintain a certain distance, not wanting to draw too much attention in front of the students and other parents. She was surrounded by students and parents eager to speak with her, Aaron patiently waited nearby. They exchanged warm greetings, but the hustle and bustle of the field trip preparations kept them from engaging in a private conversation.

Aaron and four other parents volunteered to join the field trip to help supervise the children. It was a thoughtful gesture to ensure that the kids would be well looked after during their adventure.

As the teachers and volunteers organized the students into their respective buses, Y/N and Aaron exchanged a brief, knowing glance. With a sense of anticipation and excitement, they all boarded the buses, ready for a day filled with exploration and discovery of the Museum.

Y/N made her way from the back to the front of the bus, counting each child to ensure everyone had boarded safely, she couldn't help but smile at their eager faces. It was clear they were all excited about the adventure ahead.

However, her heart skipped a beat when she reached the front and noticed that Jack had ditched his father and was happily sitting with his best friend, chatting animatedly about what they hoped to see at the museum. Aaron, sitting with the other parents in front of the bus, looked apologetic as the only empty seat was beside him. Y/N hesitated for a moment, glancing around to see if any of the other parents had noticed the empty spot next to Aaron. Fortunately, everyone seemed engrossed in their own conversations and preparations for the trip.

She settled into her seat and exchanged a quiet glance with Aaron, their eyes reflecting the unspoken understanding between them. Feeling Aaron's thigh gently press against hers sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. She always missed his touch, even the subtle ones like this. The bus rumbled along, and she tried to maintain her composure despite the proximity.

Aarons's voice was low and filled with a hint of smugness, as he broke the silence between them. "Nice turtleneck," he commented, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N shot him a discreet but sharp glare, her eyes conveying a mixture of annoyance and affection. It was clear that he was the reason she needed to wear a turtleneck today. After the last case he worked on, he had come straight to her that night, leaving behind bite marks and hickeys that still hadn't faded. She leaned in just a bit, her response equally hushed. "You're impossible," she whispered, her lips curling into a teasing half-smile. Aaron chuckled softly, his smirk growing. "Guilty as charged," he whispered back, and they shared a brief, intimate moment, their playful banter adding a layer of excitement to their secret relationship.

Unable to resist the desire to be even closer to Y/N, Aaron discreetly slipped his hand between them. With a gentle touch, he interlocked his pinky finger with hers, creating a subtle but intimate connection that only they shared. It was an unnoticeable gesture amidst the chatter and excitement of the other parents and children on the bus. Y/N felt his touch, and a soft, affectionate smile played on her lips.

They arrived at the Natural History Museum and Y/N took charge, dividing the class into three groups, with two parents assigned to supervise each. Despite knowing that pairing herself and Aaron in the same group might not be the best idea in terms of discretion, she couldn't resist the opportunity to spend more time with him.

"Alright, everyone," she began, addressing her group of enthusiastic second and third-graders. "First, we'll have a tour with the whole class, and a museum guide will tell us all the important facts about the exhibits. Then, in smaller groups, we'll work on some fun projects. Okay?"

The group of excited children answered her in unison with a resounding "Yes!“

Aaron watched from afar, admiring Y/N's ability to effortlessly control the whole class. He was mesmerized by her grace and confidence as she interacted with the children. It was clear that she was not just an excellent teacher but also a natural leader. Her dedication and passion for teaching shone brightly, and it only deepened his admiration and the sense of pride he felt for the incredible woman he was dating.

The tour led by the museum guide proved to be an engaging and educational experience for the children. Y/N, leading the way alongside the guide, ensured that the kids were actively involved, asking questions and taking pictures to document the day's adventure. Her digital camera was always at the ready, capturing candid moments of the children's wonder and excitement. She knew these pictures would be a cherished memento for the parents who couldn't join the trip. The kids, full of curiosity, were eager to absorb as much information as they could about the exhibits, and the parents, including Aaron, appreciated Y/N's efforts to keep them involved.

After the informative tour, the group gathered in the museum's spacious lobby area. Y/N distributed snacks to the children, creating a relaxed and enjoyable atmosphere. The kids chatted excitedly about what they had learned, sharing their favorite parts of the tour.

As Aaron observed Jack engrossed in conversation with his friends, he spotted the perfect opportunity. He approached Y/N quietly, leaning in to whisper, "Meet me at the gift shop," before casually walking away. Earlier he saw that the gift shop was conveniently located near a narrow corridor for staff.

A couple of minutes later, she made her way toward the gift shop, when she suddenly felt a strong hand grasp her arm and pull her into the narrow corridor. Startled, she gasped audibly, her heart racing as she collided with Aaron's chest.

In the dimly lit corridor, away from the prying eyes of the parents and children, Y/N looked up at Aaron with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Y/N playfully punched Aaron's chest, her laughter breaking through the initial shock. "You scared the hell out of me, Aaron," she scolded him with a grin.

Aaron couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "I'm sorry," he admitted, his voice filled with genuine apology. Without wasting time, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, a silent assurance that he meant no harm. He couldn't seem to get enough of Y/N's presence and showered her jaw with a trail of affectionate kisses. "I missed you," he murmured between each sweet gesture.

Y/N chuckled softly. "You saw me last night," she reminded him.

"Still," he insisted, his desire to be close to her evident. He couldn't resist the temptation to pull down the collar of her turtleneck slightly. His lips brushed against one of the marks that he had left on her throat, and he couldn't help but place a gentle kiss there.

Y/N's whimpering warning brought them both back to reality. "Aaron, someone might see," she cautioned, a hint of worry in her voice. Their relationship was something they both cherished, but they knew the importance of discretion, especially in such a public place.

Aaron reluctantly withdrew, his gaze locked on Y/N's. "I know," he replied softly, his eyes filled with longing. "I just can't help myself when you're this close."

Unable to resist the soft and affectionate look in Aaron's eyes, Y/N tiptoed up to him, a sweet and lingering smile on her lips. She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against his, their lips meeting in a soft, romantic exchange.

Aaron responded by wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into a warm and loving embrace. Their hearts beat in unison as they savored the sweetness of that stolen kiss, feeling the warmth of their love enveloping them. At that moment, they shared a world of emotion that words couldn't express, a love hidden away but burning brightly in their hearts. Lost in the sea of their emotions, Aaron couldn't resist the urge to deepen their kiss. He tightened his grip on Y/N's waist and gently turned her around until her back was against the corridor wall. Their lips met once again, and this time, the world around them seemed to fade away.

As they finally pulled apart, their breaths slightly ragged, Y/N and Aaron locked eyes, their gaze filled with a whirlwind of emotions that neither of them was quite ready to put into words. In that lingering moment of connection, their unspoken feelings hung heavy in the air, a silent exchange of love, longing, and desire. The corridor remained their secret haven, a place where their hidden love could blossom, even if only for a few stolen moments. With a soft, knowing smile, Y/N reached out and gently touched Aaron's cheek, her fingers tracing the contours of his face. Her touch conveyed a myriad of unspoken emotions, a promise of love and understanding, and a silent agreement that their love was worth all the challenges it presented. Aaron, in turn, pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as he held her close. For a brief moment, Y/N rested her head against Aaron's chest, finding comfort in the steady and calming rhythm of his heart. It was a sound she had come to appreciate and cherish. "We need to go back," she whispered softly, her voice filled with a hint of reluctance. Aaron tightened his embrace, hugging her tightly and burying his nose in her hair. "Just one more second," he murmured, his words filled with a longing to prolong their stolen moment of intimacy.

Reluctantly, Y/N and Aaron made their way back to the larger group, one by one, careful not to raise any suspicions among the other parents and children. The secret of their relationship remained safe, hidden away from prying eyes. As the break came to an end, it was time for the classes to divide into smaller groups and participate in the projects and games organized by the museum. Y/N, once again taking charge, organized her group of children with efficiency and enthusiasm.

The museum had thoughtfully organized a variety of engaging stations for the children to enjoy, each designed to provide both education and fun. As Aaron, Y/N, and their group of eight children made their way to the first station, they were excited to dive into the activities.

At the first station, the children were handed brushes and tools, their faces lighting up with excitement as they prepared to uncover replica dinosaur fossils buried in the sand. The station allowed them to feel like paleontologists on a real archaeological dig. Aaron and Y/N stood side by side, their shoulders brushing as they watched the children eagerly engage in the activity. The kids were focused and determined, carefully brushing away the sand to reveal the hidden treasures beneath. Jack's face lit up with excitement as he proudly displayed the plastic bone he had unearthed. As Y/N glanced at Aaron, she noticed how his eyes shone with a deep sense of happiness and pride. Seeing his son so thrilled and engaged in the activity was a moment of pure joy for him. It was these small, precious moments that made being a parent so rewarding. Y/N couldn't help but share a knowing and affectionate look with Aaron, silently acknowledging the shared happiness they felt in watching Jack's excitement.

After the engaging fossil dig activity, the group's next station was the life-sized replicas of various dinosaur fossils that awaited them. The children were excited to touch and examine these fascinating fossils up close while learning about their history and significance. Y/N and Aaron were in high spirits, laughing and talking as they guided the group of children to the next station, which was located on the other side of the museum. However, their cheerful journey took an unexpected turn when someone collided forcefully with Y/N's shoulder, causing her to let out a painful yelp.

The group came to an abrupt stop, and Aaron immediately rushed to her side, concern etched across his face. He couldn't hide his anger as he turned to confront the person responsible. "Can't you look where you're going?" he asked angrily.

The woman who had collided with Y/N turned around, and to their surprise, it was the same mom from Jack's soccer game who had openly flirted with Aaron. She put on a fake apologetic look as she approached them, but the insincerity was evident all over her face. "Oh, goodness, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice dripping with insincerity. Her attempt at an apology did little to ease the tension in the air.

Her insincere attempts at an apology continued as she completely ignored Y/N, as if she didn't exist. "I'm so clumsy sometimes," Nancy began, her attention firmly fixed on Aaron. "Oh, Aaron, so nice to see you here. We missed you at last week's practice."

Aaron's response was curt and cold. "I was away for work, Nancy."

Nancy brushed off his explanation with an obnoxious laugh. "Typical Aaron, always work, work, work."

She then turned her attention to Y/N, offering a smile that came off as incredibly fake and almost creepy. "And you are?"

Y/N replied simply, "The teacher."

Nancy's response was dismissive and condescending. "The teacher... Wow. That's good to know. Anyways, hope to see you this week." She patted Aaron's arm in a way that was far too familiar and walked away, her exaggerated hip-swinging movements drawing even more attention to herself. Aaron and Y/N exchanged a brief, incredulous glance after Nancy's departure, both equally unimpressed with the encounter.

As they continued to guide the children through the museum to the station, where they could touch and feel the dinosaur bones, Aaron and Y/N exchanged knowing looks. They both understood that they would discuss the encounter with Nancy later, but for now, their focus remained on the kids and the educational experience.

Unconsciously, Y/N rubbed her shoulder where she had been bumped, trying to ease the lingering pain. Aaron, always attentive, noticed her discomfort and gently placed his hand on her arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Y/N nodded, offering a small smile. "I am, it's just... her vibe is so off. And she definitely did that on purpose."

Aaron couldn't help but agree. "No doubt about that," he replied, his hand still resting on her arm. They shared a moment of silent understanding, grateful for each other's presence. With the minor disruption caused by Nancy behind them, Y/N and Aaron rejoined the kids and wholeheartedly enjoyed the remainder of the field trip. They explored each station, shared stories and laughter with the children, and even squeezed in a last-minute visit to the souvenir shop.

A couple of hours later, the classes reunited outside by the buses. The kids, now tired from a day filled with excitement and learning, were either asleep or engaged in playing with their newfound treasures and souvenirs.

The drive back to school was marked by a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional laughter or chatter from the children. Y/N and Aaron exchanged contented glances, knowing that they had created a memorable experience for the kids and, in their own way, for each other.

As they arrived back at the school, the parking lot was already bustling with parents eagerly waiting to pick up their children. Y/N, standing in front of the bus, bid each child a warm and heartfelt goodbye, ensuring they left with smiles on their faces.

Aaron and Jack shared quick farewells with Y/N before they made their way home. It had been an eventful and tiring day for everyone involved, and they were all ready for some well-deserved rest.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Y/N returned home, feeling the weight of the day's activities but also a sense of accomplishment in providing the children with a memorable experience. After Y/N had taken a refreshing shower and changed into her comfy pajamas, Liz came over as planned. The two settled on the couch, wanting to enjoy a night of wine, well-deserved takeout, and lighthearted conversation about the field trip and school gossip.

As they chatted away, the doorbell rang, interrupting their evening. Liz raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "We just ordered, how did the food arrive so quickly?"

Y/N shared the same confusion as she made her way to the door. To her surprise, it was Aaron standing on her doorstep, holding two bags of food. Her eyes widened in amazement. "Aaron?"

With a warm smile, Aaron explained, "After a long day, the best thing is some take out, so I thought I'd bring you some."

Y/N opened the door wider, revealing Liz sitting on the couch, who waved at Aaron with a friendly greeting. Y/N couldn't help but giggle. "We had the exact same idea," she said, feeling a rush of gratitude for the thoughtful surprise.

"Oh, I don't want to disturb your girls' night. Just enjoy the food," he said, offering the bags of takeout to Y/N.

Before Y/N could respond, Liz chimed in enthusiastically, "Ahh, don't be ridiculous! Come in. I was dying to properly meet you anyway."

Aaron exchanged a questioning glance with Y/N, who nodded and pulled him inside. Liz's welcoming and curious demeanor made it clear that she was genuinely excited to get to know him better, and it was an invitation he couldn't resist. With a grateful smile, Aaron stepped into Y/N's cozy home.

Aaron walked in, placing the bags of food on the coffee table before taking a seat on the couch. Y/N couldn't help but be curious as she peeked through the bags, her eyes lighting up with anticipation.

"It smells delicious," she exclaimed. "He brought Chinese food, and we just ordered Persian, so it will be a fusion night, I guess."

Shortly after, the Persian food they had ordered arrived, and the table was filled with a delightful array of dishes from both cuisines. The three of them settled in, comfortable in each other's company, as they indulged in a feast of flavors, sipped wine, and engaged in lively conversation.

Liz, with a mischievous glint in her eye, shared a particularly embarrassing university story that had all of them erupt in laughter. "And she," Liz laughed out loud, "she didn't notice the professor standing right behind her." Aaron was seated on the floor at the coffee table, with Y/N behind him on the couch. Her fingers occasionally found their way to his hair, and her gentle touches sent shivers down his spine.

Y/N couldn't help but tease, "I knew bringing you two together would backfire on me."

Liz, unapologetic but still apologetic, chimed in, "I'm sorry, but he needed to hear that story." She couldn't help but chuckle along with them.

Amidst the laughter, Y/N turned her attention back to Aaron. "You know I'll get my revenge when I meet your friends, right?" she asked, playfully threatening.

Wito feigned seriousness, Aaron stopped laughing and turned his head upwards to look at her. He teased back, "I'll threaten them with paperwork if they tell you anything."

Y/N, not one to be outdone, bent down and gave him a small peck on the lips. "I see we're not playing fair again," she said, her eyes sparkling with affection and mischief.

Liz playfully joked, "Eww, too much PDA," causing all of them to laugh once more. However, her humor quickly gave way to sincerity as she continued, "But all jokes aside, I'm happy this is working out for you guys." Y/N and Aaron exchanged a glance filled with warmth, grateful for the friend who embraced their love and celebrated their happiness.

Liz, with a smile, said, "Anyway, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone now."

Y/N immediately protested, "No, stay," and reached over to hold her friend's hand.

Liz happily grabbed her hand and playfully swung their hands back and forth like children. "It's late, I should really go, but we should get some drinks sometime," she suggested, turning her gaze toward Aaron.

Aaron nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, definitely. I need to hear more stories."

Y/N playfully punched his shoulder, and they all rose from their seats to accompany Liz to the door. It was a heartfelt farewell, filled with promises of future gatherings and more shared laughter. As Liz left, Y/N and Aaron watched her go with warm smiles.

After Y/N closed the door, Aaron wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close. She leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He pressed a loving kiss to her cheek and remarked, "She's great. I understand why you guys are best friends." Y/N smiled, her heart warmed by his understanding. "Yeah, she's one of my favorite people ever."

"How high up am I on the list?" Aaron inquired playfully, his voice laced with curiosity.

Y/N couldn't resist a giggle at his question and teased, "Hmm… maybe in the top 3." Her voice was filled with affection as she embraced him.

"Maybe?" Aaron echoed, raising an eyebrow in mock indignation.

"On good days," she continued, playfully joking with him.

"Is that so?" Aaron responded with a warning tone, his fingertips finding the sensitive side of her waist. Without hesitation, he began to tickle her, eliciting a burst of laughter from Y/N as she squirmed in his playful grasp. Their affectionate banter and shared laughter filled the room, reminding them both of the joy they found in each other's company.

Amidst her laughter and pleas, Y/N begged, "No, Aaron, stop..." as she attempted to escape his playful tickling. However, his arms were securely wrapped around her, making it nearly impossible to break free. With a determined effort, he lifted her off the ground, causing her to yelp in surprise.

He carried her to the couch, laying her down gently before settling beside her. Despite the tight squeeze, they didn't mind, as Y/N naturally found herself half-laying on his chest. Aaron tenderly stroked her hair as he spoke up, his voice filled with admiration and affection. "You were incredible today."

Her laughter subsided, and she looked up at him with a soft smile. His praise warmed her heart, and she nestled even closer to him, finding comfort and contentment in his arms. It was moments like these, filled with laughter and affectionate closeness, that made their love even more precious.

"I had great helpers," Y/N replied, acknowledging the supportive parents who had volunteered on the field trip. Aaron, however, was insistent. "No, seriously," he continued, his voice warm and sincere. "The kids love you. They are all so well-behaved when you're around and Jack couldn't stop talking about everything he saw today. He talked Jess's ears off."

"Oh wait," she said, remembering something as Aaron mentioned Jack's name. She pushed herself up on Aaron's chest and climbed over him, walking into her room. He sat up and watched her curiously and when she returned, she had a big green book in her hands. She handed the book to Aaron, who read the title, "The Little Dinosaur and the Mysterious Footprints."

"I saw it at the gift shop today, so I got it for Jack," she explained with a warm smile. However, Aaron remained silent, his expression unreadable. Y/N started to feel nervous, her words tumbling out in a ramble, "He always tells me which books you guys are reading, so I thought maybe he would like this one."

She inspected his face, her eyes searching for any sign of his feelings. Aaron, however, gently placed the book on the coffee table and brought his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face in his warm and tender grip. It was a familiar gesture between them, one that conveyed a depth of affection that words could hardly capture.

Their eyes locked, and Aaron took a deep breath. His voice quivered with emotion as he confessed, "I'm so in love with you."

Y/N blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. "What?" she asked, needing to hear those words again.

Aaron smiled softly and repeated, "I'm sooo in love with you. It's ridiculous. My days and nights are consumed by you, and I can't help but think about how incredibly lucky I am to have you in my life."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she listened to his heartfelt words. Her surprise transformed into overwhelming joy and love for the man who held her heart. Without a moment's hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Aaron wobbled slightly at the impact but hugged her back, his laughter filled with happiness. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear and pressed loving kisses to her temple. In that cherished moment, Y/N couldn't believe that he truly was in love with her, and her heart soared. She pulled back just slightly, so she could look him in the face, her voice filled with sincerity and affection. "I love you too Aaron," she confessed, sealing their love with a heartfelt declaration that brought a radiant smile to both their faces.

Aaron's heart swelled with overwhelming love as her words and the tenderness in her eyes washed over him. Unable to resist the pull of their emotions, he leaned in, and they shared a deep and passionate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, carrying the weight of their feelings and the depth of their connection.

Feeling an irresistible urge to hold her close, Aaron gently pulled Y/N onto his lap. Their bodies pressed together, fitting perfectly as they continued to share their love through their affectionate embrace.

With a trail of soft kisses, Aaron began to journey down her jaw and throat, his lips leaving a warm, tingling sensation in their wake. Between each tender kiss, he whispered endearing words that conveyed the depth of his love.

"My love," he murmured, his voice filled with affection.

"My Angel," he breathed against her skin.

"My Happiness," he continued, his words a gentle caress.

As his lips continued their descent, his whispered endearments filled the room, creating an intimate symphony of love and desire that was shared between the two of them alone.

!!!!!!!!!

Sensations of desire and affection coursed through them as Y/N arched towards him, her hands entwined in his hair. Aaron responded by pulling her even closer, his arms wrapped lovingly around her. With a delicate touch, he lowered the sleeve of her shirt, revealing her shoulder and collarbone bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. His lips, filled with devotion and longing, left a trail of lingering kisses on the tender skin he had unveiled. As he undid a couple of buttons on her pajama shirt, her bare chest before him, her curves enticingly close, ignited a fire of desire within him. “God,” he says against her throat before lowering his head and biting her breast. Her fingernails dig into the back of his strong neck, as he captures her nipple between his teeth and bites. He can't get enough of her, almost intoxicated by her scent and soft skin. His lips are still around her breast when he slides his hand under her pajama pants and underwear and strokes her slickened core, and a moan tumbles from her lips. “Aaron, please”, she begs as he slides two fingers into her. She throws her head back in pleasure and rides his thrusting fingers. “So pretty, so fucking soft” he groans and his hand squeezes her waist tightly, feeling like fire. Her walls clench around his fingers as he fastens his movements and curls his finger just the right way. She rocks her hips against his fingers chasing her high, with his name leaving her mouth over and over again. The tight coil of tension releases when the first wave of her orgasm washes over her. He pumps a couple more times, making her legs shake but eventually pulls his fingers out of her, making her whimper. He brings them up to his lips, licking every last drop of her pleasure as she breathes heavily, her eyes dark. “You taste always so sweet”, he grins shamelessly and pulls her close, kissing her again like his life depended on it. With Y/N still held securely in his arms, Aaron stands up from the couch and ithout a word, he carries her into the bedroom promising her a long night ahead.

!!!!!!!!!!!

The room was still bathed in darkness as Y/N sat up in bed, half-asleep, in response to the distant ringing of Aaron's phone. Aaron let out a groan, burying his face deeper into the pillow.

"Let me get that," Y/N mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. She stumbled out of bed and made her way to the living room, fumbling around to locate Aaron's phone. After a moment, she found it in the pocket of his jacket. She returned to the bedroom and read out the notification aloud, her voice still drowsy. "New voicemail from Garcia." Aaron groaned again, his eyes remaining closed. "Can you play it, please?" he asks, reluctantly sitting up in bed.

As Y/N played the voicemail, it became apparent that Garcia was calling him in for a new case. Aaron sighed, the weight of work pulling him from the comfort of her bed, even though it was still dark outside.

With his phone still in her hands, Y/N noticed a saved voicemail from her number. Surprised, she looks at him and presses play. It was the voicemail from the time when Jack had fallen sick at school, and she couldn't reach anyone. She glances up at Aaron with a curious expression.

"You still have this?" she asks, her voice tinged with both surprise and tenderness.

Aaron rubs his neck, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Yeah," he admits, his gaze fixed on her. "I used to listen to it when I would miss your voice… before we got together. And, well, I still do sometimes."

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sweet confession, feeling her heart swell with affection for the man who had held onto a piece of her before they became a couple. It was a testament to the depth of his feelings, and she reached out to touch his cheek lovingly.

She reaches for her phone on the nightstand and dials Aaron's number. A curious expression is in his eyes as he watches her. The familiar beep of her voicemail filled the room, and she began leaving a new message, a radiant smile on her face.

"Hey, my love," Y/N begins, "I hope you have a great day. I miss you a lot. And I love you. Don't forget to eat and rest. Take care of yourself, stay safe and did I mention that I love you? Anyway, I'll see you really soon, so don't miss me too much.”

With a contented smile, she ends the voicemail and hands Aaron his phone back. "Now you have something more positive to listen to," Y/N said, her grin lighting up the room. Aaron couldn't resist the impulse to show his fondness, and he lunged forward, wrapping her in a tight, affectionate hug. As he did so, Y/N fell backward onto the bed, the cheery sound of her laughter filling the air.

"I hate my job," Aaron protested, his voice muffled as he buried his face into Y/N's neck.

Y/N gently stroked his hair and countered, "No, you don't."

Aaron couldn't help but chuckle. "No, I don't," he admits, lifting his head to look into her eyes. They shared a warm laugh, their connection strengthening with every shared moment.

"Come on, Agent," Y/N said, her voice filled with understanding. "Go and save some lives. I'll still be here when you come back." He peppered her face with a series of tiny kisses, each one filled with love and adoration. With a few lingering kisses and affectionate ‘I love yous’, Aaron reluctantly pulled away and rushed out the door, leaving Y/N behind in bed. The day ahead would undoubtedly be filled with the demands of his job, but he carried the warmth of their shared moments with him as he faced the challenges that awaited.

After Aaron had left for work, Y/N luxuriated in the coziness of her bed for a few more moments. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow in the room. With a contented sigh, she stretched and then slipped out from under the covers. She took her time getting ready for the day, savoring the peaceful moments alone. Once she was dressed and ready, she made her way to the kitchen to clean up the remnants of their cozy night in. She gathered empty takeout containers and wine glasses, humming a tune as she worked. The memories of laughter and shared stories from the night before lingered in her mind, bringing a smile to her face. With a quick check of her schedule for the day, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door, ready to face the world and her students with renewed energy and a heart full of love.

The rest of the week unfolded relatively uneventfully. Y/N took the opportunity to catch up with some of her friends, enjoying their company and laughter. She had her usual weekend run in the park, where she found solace in the rhythm of her footsteps and the serenity of nature. And on Sunday, she spent a delightful shopping excursion with Liz, browsing boutiques and sharing stories as they strolled through the city streets. But regardless of her activities, Y/N made sure to carve out time for phone calls with Aaron whenever possible, cherishing their moments of connection despite the physical distance.

Work took Aaron to New York this time, and he returned home on Sunday, but the weight of the difficult case had clearly taken a toll on him. His exhaustion was palpable as he spoke with Y/N. "Jack will be asleep soon, then I can come over," he suggested.

But Y/N, ever concerned for his well-being, replied, "No, Aaron, you need to rest. Get a good night's sleep, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

Aaron couldn't resist a teasing tone as he asked, "Hmm, so you didn't miss me?"

Y/N's response was both stern and loving, "You know I did. But I love you, and I want you to rest."

Aaron chuckled, "Is this an order?"

"If that's what you need, Agent," she teased.

"Don't call me Agent and not expect me to come over," he playfully retorted.

She laughed and said, "Sleep, Aaron. I love you. Have a good night."

"Have a good night. I love you too," he replied, feeling grateful for her caring presence in his life as he prepared to get some much-needed rest.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Monday morning brings a newfound motivation for Y/N, knowing that she will finally see Aaron again after a couple of days apart. The school day proceeds as usual, with her dedicated focus on her students. At lunch break, Jack approaches Y/N with a blue Tupperware box in his tiny hands.

"Hey, honey, what you got there?" Y/N asks with a smile.

"Dad came back from work yesterday, and we baked cookies," Jack explains.

"Wow, that sounds like a lot of fun," Y/N replies.

Jack nods enthusiastically. "It was, but we made a mess, and Aunt Jess scolded us," he giggles, and Y/N joins in.

He holds the box towards her and says, "I wanted to bring you some because you gave me cookies once."

Y/N's heart melts at his kindness. She takes the box with gratitude, saying, "That's so kind of you, Jack. Thank you." The simple gesture warms her heart, reminding her of the loving bond she shares not only with Aaron but also with his son.

Y/N couldn't resist the temptation, and she opened the Tupperware to find a tiny pink Post-it Note squeezed to the side. But first, she took out a cookie, a delicious-looking one, and took a big, appreciative bite. She knew that Jack was watching her closely, so she let out a contented sound, showing him just how much she enjoyed his homemade cookies.

"Jack, these are the best cookies I've ever had," she said with a smile, and his eyes lit up with pride and joy.

"Really?" Jack asked, his excitement noticeable.

"Really," Y/N confirmed. "Thank you again for bringing me some."

Jack walked away with the biggest, most satisfied smile on his face, leaving Y/N's heart warmed by his affection.

Then she turned her attention to the tiny note and carefully unfolded it. The message was short but adorable: "Sweets for my sweetheart." She couldn't help but let out a tiny giggle, feeling like a teenager in love again. Now, she was even more excited about seeing Aaron tonight, knowing how sweet and thoughtful he could be.

As Y/N drove home, her thoughts were already consumed with what she wanted to wear for her evening with Aaron. He had promised to take her to a new restaurant a little outside the city, where they could enjoy each other's company without worrying about anyone recognizing them.

Her anticipation grew with each passing mile, but when she arrived home and unlocked her front door, something unexpected caught her attention. There, at her feet, was a small white envelope, seemingly squeezed between the door and the frame. She bent down to pick it up, her curiosity piqued.

She inspected the front and back of the envelope but there was nothing written on it. Y/N's hands trembled as she pulled out the single photo from the mysterious envelope. It was a picture of her and Aaron, locked in a passionate kiss, taken during their recent field trip to the museum. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. How had someone managed to capture such an intimate moment between them? She stared at the photo, her mind racing with a whirlwind of questions and concerns.

She looked left and right through the corridor and peered inside her open apartment door but then slammed it shut and with a sense of urgency, quickly retraced her steps back to her car. As she climbed inside, her hands trembling with anxiety, she locked the doors immediately and reached for her phone, needing to call Aaron.

Y/N's hands were shaking as she sat in her car, her heart racing. She glanced around the dimly lit parking area, feeling a chilling unease. Whoever had left that photograph had been disturbingly close to her apartment. Feeling watched, she took a deep breath and thanked her instincts for not entering her apartment immediately. Her heart pounded as she contemplated what might have happened if she had stepped inside and discovered an intruder. The unease settled in her chest, and she quickly pulled out her phone, her trembling hands betraying her fear.

She called Aaron and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.

Aaron was in his office, working on some reports when he received her call. "Hello, my angel. Can't you wait to see me already?" Aaron answered the phone cheerfully, excited to get her call.

"Where are you, Aaron?" she asked, and he immediately heard in her voice that something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with seriousness and concern.

"Someone... someone was at my apartment, and they... they left an envelope with a picture of us kissing."

"Leave the apartment right now!" he says as he stands up, ready to walk out.

"I didn't even go in, I locked myself in my car," she informs him.

He is relieved to hear that but he also knows a parking lot could be as dangerous as her apartment right now so he adds, "I'm coming to you right now."

"No, please. Where are you right now? Let me come there. I can't wait here Aaron, I'm scared," she tries really hard not to cry but her voice trembles as she speaks.

"I'm at the office. Y/N, let me come and get you. You are shaken up, you can't drive like this."

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm leaving now," she promises and starts the engine.

"Drive carefully. I'm waiting for you here," he says before he hands up and storms out of his office and into Rossi's. Inside, Rossi and Spencer were in the middle of a chess game. The look of terror on Aaron's face caught their attention.

"Aaron, what's wrong?" Rossi asked, noting the distress in his friend's expression.

Aaron paced back and forth in his office, struggling to find the right words. "Y/N, she... someone left an envelope at her door with a picture of us."

"A stalker?" Spencer inquired, his analytical mind immediately trying to piece things together.

Aaron ran a hand through his hair, his worry evident. "I don't know. She never mentioned one. Dave, what if this is about me?"

David Rossi understood the weight of Aaron's words, knowing how difficult it had been for him to open up and love again, especially with the lingering guilt from Haley's death. He stood up and approached Aaron, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"First, you need to calm down," Rossi advised. "Where is she now?"

Aaron replied, "She's driving here right now."

Rossi turned to Spencer and said, "Spencer, go call the reception and tell them to immediately bring Y/N Y/L/N upstairs when she arrives."

Spencer nodded and hurried out of the office, leaving Aaron and David alone.

Aaron's voice quivered as he confessed, "I can't lose her too, David. I can't do this again."

Rossi placed a comforting hand on Aaron's shoulder and spoke reassuringly, "You won't lose her. What happened with Haley was not your fault. You have the best people here, and we will find out what's going on."

Spencer went to his desk and called the front desk, informing them about Y/N's arrival. The rest of the team overheard the call, and Spencer quickly briefed them. Derek headed straight to Garcia's cave to inform her as well. The urgency in the air was palpable as they prepared to support Aarons's girlfriend through this unsettling situation. Not long after the team watched as an agent escorted a visibly shaken woman to the office's glass doors. It is the first time most of them are meeting her. Aaron had talked about her occasionally, but he hadn't revealed much information about her to the team. Only Rossi and Derek had some prior knowledge, with Rossi having met her before and Derek being informed after the incident at work.

As the woman and the agent approached the team, Garcia couldn't contain her excitement and whispered, "Omg, now I know who she is!"

Derek raised an eyebrow and asked, "You know her?"

Garcia nodded, her eyes wide with realization. "Yes! She's Jack's teacher."

Emily chimed in, her surprise was evident. "Hotch is dating Jack's teacher?"

Y/N approached the team, slightly nervous, but JJ greeted her warmly. "Hey, you must be Y/N. I'm JJ. These are Emily, Spencer, and Derek, and I think you met Garcia before," JJ introduced, and everyone offered simple greetings.

Y/N smiled and replied, "Nice to meet you all. I wish the circumstances were different."

Meanwhile, Rossi and Aaron spotted Y/N standing in the bullpen from his office window. Aaron wasted no time and quickly opened the door, rushing down the stairs to reach her.

"Y/N," Aaron said as he approached, his voice filled with relief. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her close for comfort.

"Are you alright?" Aaron whispered in her ear, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Y/N nodded, whispering back, "Yes, just shaken up."

The team stood around them, watching this rare display of emotion from their stoic unit chief. Garcia, a hopeless romantic, couldn't contain her excitement. She squeaked excitedly beside Derek and held onto his arm, her heart warming at the tender way Aaron comforted Y/N, caressing her back and hair. It was a sight that melted the hearts of everyone present, showing a different side of their stern and dedicated leader.

Aaron pulls back but still leaves his arm firmly around her waist and gestures towards the briefing room. The team and Y/N move there, away from the other curious and prying eyes in the office. "Hey Dave," Y/N greets him as they walk into the room. "Hi, dear," he says and gives her arm a reassuring squeeze. They all take their seats at the round table, and Aaron makes Y/N sit in his spot while he stands behind her, protectively.

Aaron begins, "Let's get to the bottom of this. Y/N, tell us exactly what happened."

Y/N takes a deep breath and starts explaining the unsettling incident. "I was coming home from work, and when I got to my apartment building, I found a white envelope wedged in my door. There was no sender or recipient, just a single photo inside." She pauses briefly, her voice quivering. "The photo was of Aaron and me, kissing at the museum. It was... unnerving."

Aaron keeps a reassuring hand on Y/N's shoulder as she continues. "I felt like someone was watching me, and I don't know if it was just paranoia, but I didn't dare go inside my apartment. I came straight here."

"That is actually called the psychic staring effect. Some studies have found that up to 94% of people report that they have experienced the feeling of eyes upon them and turned around to find out they were indeed being watched," Spencer rattles down the information. But Aaron notices how it's affecting Y/N because her shoulders shiver under his palm. He shoots Spencer a subtle, warning look, silently urging him to be cautious with the information given the circumstances.

Y/N carefully pulled out and placed the envelope on the table and Spencer put on gloves before he took it, so he could give it a closer look. Her nerves were on edge, and she instinctively glanced up at Aaron for reassurance.

As Spencer opened the envelope and pulled out the picture, Y/N felt a rush of embarrassment. The intimate image of them kissing in a dark corridor was now the center of attention on the table, exposed for Aaron's whole team to see. However, Aaron's composed demeanor helped her relax a bit.

Spencer carefully placed the photo into a clear bag, and Emily pointed out, "Hey, look, there's something written on the back." Aaron, now holding the photo in the clear bag, turned it around to examine the writing.

With the word "whore" glaring from the back of the photo, the team's focus shifted to discussing possible theories.

Derek asked, "Have you ever received gifts, notes, or surprises from an unknown person before?"

Y/N shook her head and answered, "No, never."

Emily then questioned, "Any past relationships with a jealous ex-boyfriend or someone who might hold a grudge?"

Y/N replied, "My last serious relationship was in college, and we parted on good terms. He got married and moved to Europe, so I don't think it's related to that."

Emily chimed in, her tone serious. "It could be a stalker or someone with a vendetta against Aaron."

Derek nodded in agreement, “So far, this stalker hasn't made any direct threats or approached Y/N. But they're keeping tabs on her,” he adds.

“Their knowledge about her schedule and personal life is unsettling. It's not just casual curiosity”, Rossi chimes in. Our Unsub could feel some intense emotions, like loneliness or jealousy. It's possible they're trying to maintain a façade of normalcy in their everyday life. They may not even realize how intrusive their behavior is.”

Carefully, not to scare Y/N even more, JJ says, “ It's possible that this stalker isn't violent or an immediate threat but the concern here is the potential for escalation. If we don't intervene, this obsession might turn into something more dangerous.”

“Statistically, stalkers can start with seemingly harmless actions and then escalate to violence or harm over time. It's a pattern we can't ignore,” Spencer adds as Y/Ns head moves from one person to another, listening carefully.

“Hotch, what if this stalker isn't targeting Y/N but you? Someone with a vendetta against you might be using her to get to you. It could be an attempt to rattle you or exploit any vulnerabilities. If they know how close you are to Y/N”, Derek speaks up knowing that is exactly what Aaron is fearing.

JJ suggested, "It could be targeted solely at her and not related to Aaron."

"We'll check security footage around your building, Y/N. Garcia, can you look into any recent threats or unusual activity targeting Aaron?" Garcia nodded enthusiastically and walked away to her room after saying "You got it, my fearless crime fighters. I'll start digging right away."

Aaron takes a seat beside her, holds her hand, and says, “You can’t go back to your apartment or to work until we find out what’s going on."

"Please, Aaron, the apartment I get, but let me go to work," Y/N pleads.

"Work is even far more dangerous. This person knows where you live, so they know where you work," Aaron says.

"You going to work could endanger the children too," Rossi adds, and Y/N doesn't protest anymore.

"You will stay at my place until this is resolved," Aaron says firmly, his protective instincts kicking in. "There, I can keep you safe the best."

Y/N begins to protest, "Aaron, don't be ridiculous. I can't stay at your place. How will you explain this to Jack?"

Aaron stops and thinks for a moment, realizing the challenge. "We'll just make up some excuse."

Y/N isn't convinced, shaking her head. "No, we won't. I can stay at Liz's or in a hotel."

JJ suggests an alternative. "We could put her in a safe house." But one look on his face and JJ knows he won't ever allow that, not after what happened with Haley.

There's only one person Aaron would trust enough to take care of Y/N when he is not around so he turns to Emily. He doesn't need to say anything more, she immediately understands.

"Of course, yeah," Emily replies. "She can stay with me."

Y/N starts to protest again, but Aaron firmly interrupts, "No, Emily, thank you, but that is too much to ask for."

"No, it's decided. You will stay with Emily," Aaron settles with his stern boss voice, leaving no room for discussion. "Em, you and Derek, go to her apartment, check things out, and get some of her stuff. Spencer, bring the picture and the envelope to the lab. Let's be sure that there aren't any traces of anything on there. And JJ, let's keep this between us for now. I'll tell Strauss myself." They all leave the room, and Aaron is left alone with Y/N, still holding her hand for comfort.

She rolls her chair closer to him and he immediately understands and offers her a hug. Her head is resting on his shoulder and he kisses her forehead. He holds her even closer, his strong arms providing comfort and protection.

"All this is really scary. I know nothing happened, and it's just an envelope, but I can't shake this feeling off," she admits. "How do you guys do this every day?"

Aaron leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "Everything will be fine. You are safe now, and I won't let anything happen to you, I promise," he reassures her, though it's clear that he's trying to convince himself as much as her.

She pulls back slightly and cups his cheek, “I know you will,” she caresses his furrowed brows and the wrinkle that appeared between them. “Don’t worry, okay? I trust you, and you trust your team,” she adds, her fingers still on his skin.

He lets out a sigh and says, “How can I not worry when my love is in danger?”

She leans in and peeks his lips. A squeaking sound comes from the door, and they both look up. It’s Garcia giggling behind her tablet, “No, don’t stop the love, please. I’m melting here.”

Garcia's entrance breaks the tension, and Y/N can't help but chuckle. "Sorry to interrupt your moment," she says with a sheepish grin, "but I have some information for you, Hotch."

Aaron nods, his protective instincts still on high alert, but he gestures for Garcia to continue.

"We found some security footage," Garcia begins, "and it appears someone has been lurking around your building recently. Enhancing the image unfortunately didn't give us a better view."

Aaron thanks Garcia for the update and then turns back to Y/N, his concern still evident.

Garcia leaves again and Aaron declares, “You'll stay here with me for now. You can rest in my office. And later, I'll drive you to Emily's place, okay?” She just nods and agrees.

Part 2

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