#george pls make new music

[ringosmistress]

#not lasting more than 3 seconds MAX #that man has a way with words fr #george pls make new music #the greatest post beatles album of all times #I'm sorry RAM but it's true #the beatles #george harrison #paul mccartney #john lennon #ringo starr #beatles #all things must pass #wah wah is my favourite track of all time #he ate on that one #memes

[simp4wom3n]

Why Don't I Know You?

Requested: Yes/No ~ How about Regina having a crush on the reader but not saying anything bc she thinks the reader won't like her, but when the reader starts talking to her and everything, Regina is suddenly possessive ykwis

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Summary: Shocked when a face she doesn't recognise shows up in her class, Regina makes it her goal to learn everything about them, even if it leads to her gaining a massive crush. ~ Word Count: 4.1k ~ Warnings: lotta swearing, one slur, otherwise mainly fluff

A/N: HI!!! FIRST RENEE/REGINA FIC!!! she is criminally underwritten, so I thought I would do my part (other people pls do right for her I need stuff to read). I love her so so much, and I had a blast writing this, so pls enjoy <3 + I will be creating a Renee rapp taglist so comment or message me if you wanna be on it :)

The halls of North Shore High were like a second home to Regina. Some would call it her hunting ground. Each year, she relished her opportunity to prowl the hallways, hunting the new freshman as she committed every new face and name to mind, with the intention of digging up all the dirt she possibly could. With thanks to Gretchen, she knew everything about everyone.

But then there was you.

"Alright, we have a new student joining us today."

Regina's eyes widened in pure shock as you walked into the room. With your bag casually slung over your shoulder, you make a beeline for the empty tables surrounding Regina. Ignoring the intensity of her gaze, you drop your bag and settle into the chair next to her. The faint strains of music emanated from the headphones hanging from your ears as you began organizing your belongings, only to be interrupted by the teacher.

"Y/n, if you could please stand and introduce yourself."

Your eyes flicked nervously towards the teacher, and the entire class turned to look at you. The intensity of Regina's gaze made your cheeks glow with a faint red before you sighed dejectedly and reluctantly stood up, pulling out your headphones.

"Um... Hi, I'm Y/n... not really much else to say."

The teacher nodded at you before turning around to start the lesson. Watching as you sat down, Regina's focus shifted entirely to you.

She couldn't tell whether it was because she knew nothing about you, or that you were just so damn hot.

Maybe it was both.

As soon as the bell rang, signalling the end of the class, Regina wasted no time storming off to find Gretchen. Having watched you for the entirety of the class, she was desperate to find out everything about you.

Strutting through the packed hallway, everyone staring at her in fear, Regina locked onto her target as she came into her view. "Gretchen!" she called irritatedly. The small girl quickly turned around as her eyes widened in fear. "Tell me... How is it that I don't know anything about this new Junior, Y/n? Why wasn't I informed? I need all the details now!"

Gretchen, scrambling to keep up with Regina's relentless pace, stammered out an apology. "I-I'm sorry, Regina! I didn't even know they were coming."

"God, you are useless!"

In only a week, not only had watching you become her routine, but she had even started to develop a crush on you, as painful as that was for her to admit.

She was supposed to be chased, not the one chasing.

Seeing you had become the favourite part of her day, even above having the whole school bow at her feet. She hadn't even talked to you. She just watched.

She meticulously studied your every move, subconsciously committing all of your subtle mannerisms to memory. Like the way you would take notes, or the way you would nibble at your fingers when you were focused. Or her personal favourite, when you knawed at the end of your pencil when you were nervous or stressed.

Fuck, she wishes she was that pencil.

She hated to admit it, but the thought of talking to you terrified her. Her usually overbearing confidence drained away whenever you sat in the chair next to her, your mysterious yet comforting presence causing her to malfunction.

And yet, as she sat at lunch with Gretchen and Karen, she refused to mutter a word about you to them. The furthest they pushed was when Gretchen asked about you after catching Regina staring at you, and the look Regina gave the poor girl made her shut up immediately.

The lunch tables were packed as usual, but Regina's eyes scanned the hallway beside them. She was well aware that you never sat at any of the tables, so she patiently waited for you to return to your locker, which was conveniently placed within sight of her table.

Karen and Gretchen's incessant babbling went unnoticed as you finally appeared. She couldn't help but notice your slouched posture and sluggish movements. You looked exhausted. Your headphones, which you always had on you, dangled from one ear as you forcefully opened your locker.

As if she wasn't already concerned, the table of varsity jocks had also noticed you, taking your clearly irritated mood as a green light to push even more of your buttons. From across the room, Regina watched with a clenched jaw as three of them stood from the table and made their way towards you.

Her body ached with anger as she watched them grab you by the shoulder and throw you against the lockers. Your exhausted expression turned to one of fear as they held you up against the cold metal doors. The guy forcefully snatched your headphones away, callously tossing them to the ground and obliterating them with a single forceful step.

Regina choked on a gasp. She knew how much you loved those headphones.

She was annoyingly out of earshot as she watched them continue to laugh at and berate you whilst shaking you against the lockers. Her blood was boiling. The others had noticed her expression and cast confused glances towards the commotion, which only confused them more.

The Regina they knew would be laughing.

After Regina's next victims finally let you go, your body shook as you realised that the whole school had just watched you get shamelessly belittled. As soon as your gaze locked with Regina's, your embarrassment grew unbearable, triggering you to hastily get your belongings before moving to make a swift escape.

The last Regina saw of you, you were frantically running away, desperately trying to hide your state as tears streamed down your face.

Those jocks had no idea what was coming for them.

The next time she laid eyes on you was the week after. She had already exacted her revenge on the jocks, having called their parents and telling them they all had STDs, yet when she caught sight of your weary expression as you entered the classroom, the familiar sense of triumph eluded her.

As the lesson passed and the teacher blabbered about a new group project, Regina's eyes never left you as you buried yourself in your notebook.

"Ok, listening, please." the teacher announced, garnering both of your attention. "The groups are as follows," you patiently waited for your name to be read out so you could go back to absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your book, whilst Regina similarly waited to hear the name of the poor soul who would be stuck with her. Yet, to her surprise, she wasn't disgusted by the name read beside hers.

"Y/n and Regina,"

With eyes wide and fixed on the teacher, Regina failed to notice the sudden blush that crept onto your cheeks, causing you to quickly lower your head. "You have the rest of the lesson to plan." the teacher mumbled before returning to their desk, where they sat silently.

Neither of you moved. After a second of secretly hoping Regina would make her move, you figured she wasn't interested in you or the project. Opening your computer and immediately diving into research, Regina sat at her desk, trying to build the courage to talk to you.

God, she hated being a coward.

After a few minutes and a few internal pep talks, she decided to take her one excuse to talk to you as she finally scooted her desk towards yours and turned to face you. As she inched closer, your heart began to race, sensing her gaze fixed on you. With a bashful smile, you diverted your attention from your screen and finally made eye contact with her.

She was breathtaking.

Clearing your throat, you quickly turned back to your computer as you scratched the back of your neck. "I-I'll just do it all when I get home," you spoke nervously, presuming THE Regina George would want nothing to do with you or the project.

"What makes you think I'd make you do it alone," she retorts, her tone more flirtatious than she had intended, but she wasn't mad about it. You looked back at her, lost for words for a second as you tried to scramble together a response.

"Well... I-I just presumed you wouldn't want to help." A small smile formed on her lips as you briefly glanced at her, "I mean, you hardly pay attention, so I just... figured." She softly giggles at your words, her laughter sending a flutter of excitement through your body.

Little did you know she was distracted by you.

"Come to mine later. We can do it together." Regina's unexpected display of confidence caught both of you off guard as her usual flirtatious demeanour made a comeback. Meanwhile, you stared at her in disbelief, trying to process what had just happened. "Ugh... Yeah, sure, if that's ok?"

"I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't"

As the school bell rang through the corridors, you were overwhelmed with both relief and anxiety. After enduring a tedious day at school, you were now faced with the terrifying task of not only talking to Regina but also spending hours alone with her at her house.

Walking out the doors and towards the car park, the sound of the bustling school fading into the background, your eyes catch a familiar blonde leaning up against her Jeep. Your heart began to race faster as you approached her, your bag feeling heavier with each step.

Her expression softened as she noticed you approaching, a warm smile gracing her lips, and she pushed herself off her car. "Hey," she greets softly, a soft shade of pink painting her cheeks as you both smile at each other. "Hi," you said breathlessly with a small chuckle.

Without another word, Regina moves to get in, and you follow suit, chucking your bag into the backseat next to hers before climbing into the passenger seat.

The breeze gently tousled your hair as you drove to her house, the soothing tunes of music filling the air, matching the nervous excitement between you both. Your heart beat along with the music as you snuck glances at the girl sitting next to you. With her eyes focused on the road and the wind softly brushing her skin, you were utterly mesmerised by her.

Of course, you had heard of Regina George's horror stories, but this girl was different.

Sure, you hadn't spoken till this morning, but there was something about her you couldn't quite describe. Something that brought you to school every day, comforting you as you sat in undoubtedly one of the most boring classes, and that gave life at North Shore High purpose.

Frankly, you rejected any idea of her being a heartless bitch.

When you eventually turned into her driveway, your gaze was forced away from her as you caught sight of her house, or should you say mansion. The house was almost cinematic in grandeur, your eyes growing wider by the second as you drove closer before eventually stopping at the door.

"Wow," you mumbled under your breath as you exited her car, your eyes not leaving the building as you reached for your bag. You heard Regina chuckle lightly as she led the way to her door. "My mum's not home, thank god, so we have the place to ourselves."

You nod mindlessly as you follow her through the front door. As you trailed behind her, the pristine marble floors beneath your feet echoed with each step, a stark contrast to the scuffed linoleum of the school corridors.

Just when you thought you had gotten used to it, Regina led you to her room. Stepping inside, you find yourself mesmerised by everything around you. "This is your bedroom?" you asked, clearly taken aback. Regina glanced back at you, a shy smile on her face.

"Yeah, It was my parents, but I asked them to trade me." "Right...". You couldn't help but be captivated by the array of decorations adorning the walls, taking in the posters and photos that offered a rare glimpse into her life beyond her reign as the queen of North Shore.

Sitting on her bed and removing her shoes, she motions for you to do the same. Dropping your bag next to her massive bed and grabbing everything you need, you carefully sit down next to her, leaving enough room between the two of you so you don't seem invasive.

Opening your laptop and notebook, you place them on the bed as you pull up the project materials. You can feel Regina's gaze on you even though she's trying to be subtle, and the thought instantly makes your cheeks glow softly.

"So, uh, where do you want to start?"

The next few hours flew by as you worked on the project together. Regina was surprisingly helpful, the two of you moving closer as your work drew to a close. Now that the project was over, the familiar awkwardness lingered in the air as you searched for something to talk about that wouldn't embarrass you.

"You're really good at drawing, you know." Regina compliments softly, pointing at your notebook margins before you can say anything as you blush at her words. "Thanks... I've been doing it more since-" "Your headphones broke." Regina cuts you off as you look at her surprised.

"Yeah... How did you know that?" It was Regina's turn to blush as she realised that she had just revealed herself. Stammering to find an excuse, she looks away for a second, embarrassed. "I-I'm just a very observant person."

You look at her suspiciously with a small smile gracing your lips, the thought of Regina watching you making your heart flutter.

"You're different." you find yourself blurting out, "from how everyone else describes you, I mean." you finish quickly. Regina chuckles as she smiles at you softly. "You're different too. Good different. I like it."

The tension between you grew as you stared into each other's eyes. A softness behind her pale blue eyes drew you in, and before you knew it, you were slowly leaning in. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you caught Regina glancing down at your lips, her own caught between her teeth as your faces grew closer.

"Regina, honey!" You scramble backwards as Regina's bedroom door flies open, revealing who you believe to be her mum. "Oh. Hi there!" "Mum, seriously!?" Regina yells in disbelief. Your ears begin to ring as your head pounds, thinking about what would have happened if you had not been interrupted.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't realise you had anyone over." While Regina's mother was apologising, you could hear Regina sighing in frustration next to you. "I'll just go to the kitchen." Her mum suggests as she begins to leave the room, but you beat her to it. "No, Ms George, it's okay. I was on my way out anyway." You offer her a smile you hope appears as genuine as you quickly throw everything into your bag.

Trying to ignore Regina's pained gaze, you threw your bag over your shoulder, grabbed your shoes, and quickly exited her bedroom, making your way out the front door. You had no plan on how to get home, but you would rather walk than have to sit in that room after what had happened.

Walking into school the next day was like walking straight into a nightmare. You already weren't fond of the school, having been called slurs and made fun of constantly, but adding to that, your usual excitement of seeing Regina had been replaced with pure fear.

In just one night, you managed to spin every interaction you ever had with the girl, leaving you incredibly embarrassed about how you had let it all happen. Who were you to think Regina might actually like you? You were probably just a pawn in some big game.

Unlocking your locker and throwing it open, already fed up with the day before it had even begun, you began to unpack your stuff, completely ignorant of the approaching jock.

Walking into school with a similarly distraught look, Regina's mind was stuck reeling over the events from last night. The question of why you ran away was all she could think about until she heard a sharp bang.

Before you could react, you were once again thrown against the lockers, an irritated grunt leaving your lips. Your eyes met the same bastard who had made bullying you their new hobby. "Back for more, dyke?" he taunted you, your fists clenching involuntarily as you awaited the verbal abuse he was undoubtedly about to unleash on you.

Regina's head immediately whipped in its direction, a new sense of anger rushing through her body as she saw your saddened figure being pinned up against the lockers. Without hesitation, she storms towards the jock holding you against the wall with a fire burning behind her eyes.

"Fuck off, asshole!"

The boy's expression quickly shifted, causing him to release his grip on you and hastily retreat in terror. You sighed in relief as you observed Regina approaching you, her face contorted with unmistakable rage.

You found it quite amusing how scary everyone found her, causing the boy who had just been full of confidence to shrink into insignificance, like a tiny ant that she was about to step on.

"Look in her direction again, and it won't just be STDs next time."

The boy's face flashed in realisation before hurriedly scrambling off. All eyes were fixed on you as Regina directed her gaze towards you, her expression instantly softening with a hint of concern in her eyes. "Are you ok?" you managed a nod as the softness of her voice filled you with a comforting warmth.

"Yeah… Thanks," you replied softly, your familiar awkward energy filling the air. She watched you momentarily as you remained silent, hopeful that you would acknowledge her. Yet, as you continued to avert your gaze away from her, she gave you a soft nod before turning to leave. Her stomach sank as the failing state of your relationship grew more and more obvious.

With an unfamiliar burn of tears behind her eyes, her pace quickened as she tried to get as far away from you as she possibly could.

But you stopped her.

"Regina, wait!"

Looking over her shoulder and meeting your sorry gaze, her heart can't help but flutter as she watches you slowly jog after her. "Sorry, I-" you hesitated, feeling a surge of nerves as you came the closest you had been to Regina since yesterday. "Did you want to maybe... hang out at yours after school again?"

"Didn't we finish the project?" She seems confused, completely missing that you wanted to spend time together outside what was needed. "No, we did. I just thought we could, you know, just watch a movie or something, but if you're not into that-"

"I would love to." She interrupts your anxious babbling with a gentle laugh, her gaze filled with admiration as you stare at her in a state of surprise and joy. "Meet me at the same place, ok?" "Yeah". Regina walks away from you with a smirk as you stand there frozen.

Holy shit, you just asked Regina George out.

The trip to Regina's after the bell finally rang was much like the day before.

She waited for you by her car, dismissing her other friends when she spotted you. Greeting each other warmly before jumping in the car, you once again listened to music whilst the wind swept through your hair, a nervous yet warm sense of anticipation falling between you.

Pulling up to her house, which you were still in awe of, you jumped out of the car and walked towards the front door behind Regina. "This time, my mum actually isn't home and won't be. I made sure of it. So we really do have the place all to ourselves."

You both laughed at her words as a small blush crept onto your cheeks. You walked behind Regina as she entered her bedroom, studying the now familiar walls as she set up everything you needed to watch a movie.

After sitting on her bed with the TV switched on and Netflix loaded up, you still remained standing in her doorway, nibbling on your pencil, which you always kept stowed away in your pocket, causing her to glance at you with a puzzled expression. "You seem distracted. Everything okay?" she asked, her voice soft yet discerning.

Snapping back into reality, offering her a sheepish smile, you replied, "Yeah, just lost in thought, I guess." taking the pencil from your lips, you slowly moved towards her bed, your eyes subconsciously scanning every inch of her body, your mind going wild seeing her so comfortable.

Her gaze fixated on you, her piercing blue eyes captivating in the sunlight pouring through the window. She laughed softly, the sound filling the room with a pleasant melody. "Lost in thought or thoughts of me?"

The comment caught you off guard, and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I… um, what makes you say that?". Regina, who reclined into her bed, gestured towards your hand, occupied by a chewed-up pencil.

"You always chew on that when you're nervous," she spoke softly. Your eyes widened in astonishment as the familiar burn returned to your cheeks. "How do you know that?" She smirked, "I notice everything." Regina's gaze never wavered as she continued watching you, a playful glint in her eyes.

"So, what's got you so nervous, Y/n?"

You felt a lump form in your throat as Regina's question hung in the air, filling the lavish room with tension. You couldn't help but fidget with your pencil, trying to find the right words to capture the overwhelming mix of emotions that Regina's presence constantly stirred within you.

"I, uh… it's just… everything, I guess. School, people, this…" You gestured vaguely between the two of you, unable to articulate the chaotic mess of feelings inside. Regina leaned up, her voice softening. "Well, you don't have to be nervous around me." Her eyes locked onto yours, a sincerity beneath the confident facade. "Now sit."

Slipping your shoes off and sitting on the bed, you move closer to Regina, who is lying against her pillows, her gaze unwavering. Eventually settling next to her, you turn to look at her, your heart fluttering as her soft eyes meet yours.

The room seemed to buzz with an unspoken energy, and all you could hear was the sound of your shared breaths. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, watching Regina's eyes analyse your face. A blush painted her cheeks, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Regina seemed hesitant, her mouth opening as if searching for the right words. "You know, I've been infatuated with you ever since you first walked into class." Your heart did a somersault at her words. A dreamy smile spread across your face, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of joy and disbelief.

"Regina George. Infatuated with me?" you teased playfully, her confession coursing adrenaline through your veins. With a gentle laugh, she hides her face briefly behind her hand before looking back at you, matching your wide smile.

"Shut up."

Leaning towards you, Regina's hands delicately wrapped around your neck, a slight shiver travelling down your spine. The room appeared to tighten as Regina held you, her touch confident and gentle. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes never leaving Regina's as she closed the distance.

Time seemed to stand still as her lips met yours.

The touch of her lips against yours was gentle, her hands brushing your neck with a mix of desire and passion. Everything else faded away as you fell into the kiss.

Her breath mingled with yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart echoing your own. The room seemed to buzz with an electrifying charge, and the only sounds that reached your ears were the shared breaths between you two.

As Regina pulled away, a shared moment of breathless silence hung in the air. Once buzzing with unspoken energy, the room was now filled with the soft sounds of your intertwined breaths. Regina's cheeks were tinted with a deeper blush, and a subtle smirk played on her lips.

Your mind still reeling from the feeling of her lips on hers, you speak with a breathless chuckle, "What's everyone else gonna think?". Regina smirked at your question, a glint of defiance in her eyes as she pulled you back in, mumbling her response on your lips.

"Let them talk."

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers @wifeyjennaortega @thenextdawn @wol-fica

#renee rapp x reader #regina george x reader #regina george x you #renee rapp #renee rapp imagine #regina george #mean girls musical #mean girls 2024 #simp4wom3n

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 | 𝐅𝟏 ❞

pairing: f1 grid (not all) x black fem driver!reader

summary: in which reader takes the f1 pilots to experience her culture and the beautiful country that is South Africa.

warnings: south african slang, cussing, social media environment, mentions of food, borderline chaotic

saint’s team radio 🎀: you have no idea how excited i was to write this. i love my country so so much and to be able to share it with all of you is a blessing. thank you @exotic-iris13 for requesting this! side note, December is in summer so i hope i don’t confuse you! enjoy!

please like, comment and reblog! (i’m watching you)

fc: @/mbbaarrhliii on ig!

tags: @non-stop-imagines @perfecttrashface @mauvecherie-writes @purplelewlew @arshiyuh @yeea-nah @alika-4466 @louvrepool @sheluvsf1

imessage: THE OFFICE 🏎️

y/n: i just got my braids done losers

charlie w a ferrari: but the season’s over, we won’t see it :(

carlito: plus didn’t you already have them done last month?

landinhoooo: no guys december braids usually mean a vacation, so where are you going? 🤨

y/n: firstly, you know wayyyy too much about the braids thing 😭

honey badger: that was oddly specific i have to say, lan

yukibae: yeah that was weird

landinhoooo: wtv 🙄 where are you going, y/n!

y/n: my mother is requesting the presence of all of you so you’re all coming back home with me 🤭

carlito: mi vida, wouldn’t that be too soon? winter break just started

kika’s bf: also how would it work? accommodation, transport, all those things

y/n: are you saying no to an african mother?

lew <3: guys say yes, she’ll show up to your house and force you

alexander!: not to mention it’s summer that side (she kidnapped one of my cats, say yes)

princess george: okay, let’s say we all go. what is going to happen?

y/n: i’m just saying, you haven’t lived if you haven’t never experienced a South African summer

mad max: I don’t know, y/n. just please don’t guilt trip us

mickey schumi: i can already feel her frown from here

y/n: i was going to pay for everything but since none of you want to go, i’m saving money 🤭

landinho: wait

kika’s bf: wait hold on

charlie w a ferrari: why didn’t you say so in the first place?!

honey badger: now that you’ll be our sugar mommy, ofc we’ll all be there

princess george: that clears out so much

y/n: you guys are a bunch of IDIOTS

alexander!: there has to be a catch???

landinho: ALEX SHUT UP WE’RE GOING ON A FREE TRIP

carlito: we’ll even dance to that one music playlist of yours

y/n: all of you have to wear my merch next season and you’ll let me win two races back to back

mad max: now y/n-

y/n: uh oh! looks like max is paying for everything!

charlie w a ferrari: JUST SAY YES

mad max: okay, you’ll win two races and i’ll slow down

princess george: i just did some quick research and y/n, you’re seen as a national treasure??? and lewis is considered Nelson Mandela’s grandchild??

y/n: well, yes! don’t question my country, okay? 🫶🏽

yukibae: yes ma’am 🫡

oscahhh: i went for a run, what did i miss??

landinho: we’re going on a trip and y/n is paying 😝

honey badger: except max, he’s paying for his own things

mad max: i’m not??

y/n: three races and i’ll get you a new console

kika’s bf: CAN I HAVE ONE??

landinho: NOOO I NEED ONE, PLS Y/N

y/n: we all earn millions every race??? get it yourself????

kika’s bf: i’m going to tell kika you’re bullying me

y/n: she’s coming on the trip too along with all the other wags 🤭

yukibae: and where’s YOUR wag, y/n? 🤨

y/n: yuki shhh pls i’ll literally buy you an island

charlie w a ferrari: NUH UH YUKI TELL US

landinho: yuki what do you know

princess george: whoever isn’t y/n’s wag, say so RN

everyone: NOT ME

lew <3: damn

landinho: I KNEW ITTTTTT

honey badger: IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW AHHH

alexander!: I HAVE TO GO TELL LILY

oscahhh: have you guys never seen them interact in the media pen? it’s like they’ve been married for 27 years

logang: and how do YOU know that

oscahhh: mate, you told me

y/n: 🙄

y/n: go pack for this trip before i shave your eyebrows 🫶🏽

y/n’s instagram story

seen by kehlani, ferrari and 34,282,722 others

-

“There’s no way you got cars for all of us.” George and everyone else really couldn’t believe that the lengths you went through to make this trip as perfect as you could. “Not to mention booking out the Four Seasons!” Carmen interjected, walking next to her boyfriend.

You watched as everyone filed into the Mercedes vans waiting for them on the airport runway where the large jet had landed. You couldn’t believe you got everyone to come to South Africa in the first place but guilt tripping them had worked a charm, complaining that you don’t have a home race and that your mom would be pissed.

Very easy to fool these guys.

The skies of Johannesburg weren’t all too clear but you could tell that it was summer. Deciding to rather catch up with everyone at the hotel a bit later, you used a private exit to the airport so that you could visit your mom and sister before anything else. Plus you knew a big deal would’ve been made if you had announced that you were coming home so posting will do for now.

“Bathong, where are your friends? I thought you’d all come here.” Your mother said whilst setting up the extremely long table in her backyard so you were sat on a pool chair just watching her.

bathong - more of an expression of confusion or shock

“It was going to look suspicious if i came here with all these people with the same vans following each other.” You replied. “I booked the Four Seasons, it should be big enough for all of us.”

“Oh okay, that’s fancy. So where’s your boyfriend?” Your mom asked with a grin on her face that earned a head shake from you.

“Ukuphi uLerai?” Where’s Lerai? (younger sister)

“Usaseskholeni. Unfuna ukuyomlanda?” Your mom replied. She’s still at school. Do you want to go fetch her?

“Yeah, i want to surprise her. So let me go and I’ll see you later when I drop her off.” You stood up, saying goodbyes to her as your mom went about what she doing.

Hopping in one of your various cars that you kept in your mother’s garages, you quickly texted your boyfriend when an idea popped in your head.

imessages!

y/n: do you want to cause a bit of chaos

lew <3: sigh

lew <3: what kind?

y/n: i’ll pick you up rn and we’re going to pick my sister up from school 😝

lew <3: should i be scared?

y/n: slightly, see you in a few 😚

-

To say you caused a bit of chaos would be an understatement. You hadn’t realised that your sister’s school was huge and this whole time, you forgot what you and your boyfriend did for a living. Picture this: a Lamborghini Urus parked outside where many high school kids are obsessed with it, you and Lewis stepping out to call your little sister, kids recognise you two, you apologise to your sister with ice cream.

You end the day off with lounging in the room with your boyfriend, laughing at the reactions of your fans to the news of you being in the country. You had planned this whole visit out, wanting everyone to get their rentals tomorrow morning then taking them everywhere.

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, bellahadid and 937,728 others

yourusername home 🇿🇦

view comments

user there’s no fucking way, YOU’RE BACK??

yourusername and i’m with my FRIENDS 🤭

youryoungersister a facetime would be nice next time 🧍🏽‍♀️

yourusername well, no!

landonorris y/n, what is a kota?

yourusername if you’re up for it, we can get some today

georgerussell okay but what IS it

yourusername DON’T WORRY

georgerussell I’M WORRIED

carlossainz55 you didn’t say it was going to be this hot

charles_leclerc she warned us mate 😭

danielricciardo btw max is still hanging out with that cat he found at breakfast

lilymhe i’m obsessed with this place, i never want to leave

francisca.cgomes you’re still in the hotel room 🫤

alexandrasaintmleux i just googled gold reef city, CAN WE GOOO PLS

alex_albon WHATS THAT

loganseargent IT’S AN AMUSEMENT PARK

user i just drove in the four seasons driveway, guys there are so many cars lined up for them 😭

user she comes to the country when i decide to LEAVE??

dbngogo stfu you’re back? 🥹 come to Konka 🫵🏽

landonorris WHAT’S THAT

dbngogo it’s a nightclub 🤭

sza CAN I JOIN Y’ALL

yourusername ofc bae

lewishamilton there’s a flower bouquet that says Mandela’s grandchild for me 🧍‍♂️

user oh fuck he knows the joke

georgerussell told you

f1 y/n bring back our drivers 😣

yourusername bring back kyalami then we’ll talk

user oop-

-

SOWETO

south western township

Not wanting to waste any time, Y/n scooped up her friends to visit her hometown, where she grew up and dreamed of this very moment.

The convoy of extremely expensive cars that sped through the route to Soweto had caught the attention of many people, including the news that announced your arrival.

Briefing the boys (and the girls) on their menu choices of your favourite foods, they all equally decided that they’ll start training when they get back home. With the food place being right across a park with a large parking lot, it was convenient for you.

Being the host for this whole trip, you went ahead and ordered for everyone, speaking through the hole in the wall to specify orders and paying a hefty price including drinks. You watched as all your friends climbed out of their respective cars, leaning and sitting on the hoods of the cars as they all bonded. The vibrant atmosphere of your home country made everything feel like summertime.

Getting help carrying all that food to the group, everyone took their orders and observed them. “So, amagwinya are fat cakes, they’re very filling. A Kota is a uncut loaf of bread with stuff inside like hot chips, sausages and other things that you can specify for your Kota.” You explained, everyone immediately digging in and their faces said it all.

“And for you, Lew, you can have the fat cakes and the hot chips. I have to say, you’ll be full for the entire day.” You turned to your boyfriend who gave you a kiss before trying the food.

Later that day, dinner at your mother’s was a success, everyone finishing their plates and sharing different stories under the Johannesburg stars.

The next day was filled with fun activities, hitting up the amusement park Gold Reef City then late night karting, the friendship between everyone was growing as smiles never left their faces.

a week later

yourusername

liked by patooward, mclaren and 3,728,912 others

yourusername south africa my baby, it’s been amazing 🇿🇦

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landonorris take me back (we’re checking out of Four Seasons)

danielricciardo and what about your gf that you met? 🤨

landonorris she’s coming to the next race 🫡

maxverstappen33 three wins and that’s it

yourusername do you want me to tell on you to my mom?

maxverstappen33 no 😨

charles_leclerc i need another kota

alexandrasaintmleux we’re actually shaking for one right now

yourusername askies 🤣 sorry

loganseargent never thought i’d ever be an avid lover of amapiano

user what multiverse are we in that Logan, the most american person to ever exist, is saying this

user it’s the South Africa effect baby 😝🇿🇦

lewishamilton can we come here every winter break?

carlossainz55 can we please? all my joy is at Gold Reef City

alex_albon i just want her mother’s cooking again, changed my life

f1 y/n, what did you do to our drivers

yourusername if you add kyalami to the calendar, you’ll know 😚

lilymhe someone gave me a painting of you and i will be hanging it in my home

francisca.cgomes to complete the shrine

landonorris to our Sugar Mother Y/n

yukitsunoda i got all the recipes, i’m ready

yourusername we need 20 kotas stat! 🫵🏽

oscarpiastri even your money looks so cool 😭

user if this is not the greatest representation of our country, i don’t know what it is

mercedesamgf1 can we join next time? 😔

yourusername no

tyla I LOVE YOU

yourusername I LOVE YOUUUU

-

saint’s notes: ahhhhhh hope y’all enjoyed! mwah 😝 i tried but it feels sorta rushed?? idk, let me know

#saint writes #☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagines #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula one x black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black!reader #south africa with saint! #Spotify

[controlmyfeet]

i still feel everything when you are near - matty healy

matty healy x ex!reader

angst

warnings: exes, alcohol consumption, insecurities, jealousy (kinda?), pining, kissing, crying (lmk if there’s more i need to add!)

a/n: not sure about this. i think the last time i tried to write fanfiction i was 13, so feedback is appreciated but pls be nice lol. also, english is not my first language!

3570 words

it still hurts. 

i didn't think it would hurt as much after 6 months, but seeing him in the flesh makes me realize it does. i thought i was already used to it, thought i was actually doing a good job moving on, if we ignore my slump in the first 3 weeks after the breakup, where i would just leave the house for work and groceries (that i would overbuy because i forgot i'd just cook for myself), i think i was doing pretty okay.

i should've guessed he would be in the city. he can't stay in one place for too long; if he has a few days free in between shows, he's going to look for a studio to work in. usually in london, los angeles, or here. most of the time, he ends up here.

but i never know where he is anymore.

i deleted twitter from my phone after 2 months. maybe because of the questions, perhaps because i didn't care, or maybe i was tired of reading all the tabloids and fearing they were true. maybe i care too much. whatever, right? it just means i haven't seen him in a while, even in pictures.

i'm sitting by the dark wooden bar counter when i first spot him. he's standing with charli and george in the vip section near the dj booth, surrounded by people as always. my friends noticed that he's here too, but they haven't said anything, which i'm grateful for. i'd rather pretend it doesn't affect me.

he looks different, though. his arms are bigger, and his hair is longer; soft curls fall over big brown eyes that crinkle whenever george says something funny. he still has that boyish smile.

lulu and bea went dancing and i said i'd join them in a minute. we go to this club every time we're in the city, but tonight it is more crowded than usual. my secluded spot at the bar being the only place i won't be pushed around. still, i feel bad. it's my best friend's birthday, and we came to new york together to celebrate, but instead, i'm drowning my sorrows with cosmos. 

"you won't even say hi now?" i hear matty's voice from behind me and turn around, startled. he stands tall and confident as always, but his eyes no longer hold the same energy. here, up close, i can see that his eyebags look more prominent, and his stubble has grown slightly. he looks tired. i don't think i look any better.

"hi," i say, looking into his brown orbs, phlegmatic, as if the butterflies in my stomach aren't going batshit crazy right now "i didn't see you, sorry."

he grins cheekily, "it's alright, darling."

i don't really know what to say. he should hate me, honestly. it wouldn't be surprising considering how we left things, with all the yelling, name calling. with all the broken picture frames. it started with another rumor while he was on tour, another leaked picture. he was so dismissive and vague about it that i just couldn't find it in myself to trust him, and he could only complain about how childish all of it was.

i guess he doesn't, though. they have free drinks inside the vip section. i remember it from when we came here together. he doesn't need to come all the way to the bar for a drink.

"it-it's good to see you," i stutter, apprehensive now. fearing that maybe he really does hate me, and just walked over to tell me how much so. i mean, i would hate him, too, if i could. but no matter how hard i try, i can't. and believe me, i've tried.

matty is standing so close that the loud music sounds muffled now, and the warm, dim light of the bar reflecting on his silky skin makes me want to melt into his arms. so i try to keep my eyes focused on my feet.

he seems to notice that i'm struggling as i fidget with my empty glass.

"can i get you another one?" he asks amicably. my eyes shift from my feet to the glass in my hands and back to his eyes.

"sure," i reply shyly.

he asks a bartender polishing wine glasses next to us for another cosmopolitan. behind the man, shelves from the same material as the counter hold a collection of glass bottles of different colors with labels sporting french and italian names. matty sits on the barstool beside mine. "so…what are you doing here in new york? i thought you hated the city this time of the year." 

and it's true, i hate new york during the summer. the concrete buildings seem to make the temperature much higher, and tourists crowd every corner. it feels claustrophobic. the subway also smells extra bad during these months. but i loved being here with him, no matter the season. i loved being anywhere with him.

"well, yeah. but it's lulu's birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it here, so here we are. the three of us." 

"bea is here too?"

"she is, yeah."

him talking about my friends is familiar. many sunday evenings were spent on his couch sharing a bottle of red with my newest candle burning on the side. at the same time, i'd tell him about the most recent gossip in my friend group, and he would listen.

the barman places the new drink before me and takes the empty glass. i thank him and take a sip of the pink liquid. it's sweet and sour, and the vodka calms my nerves a little bit. he's staring at my lips. so i lick them clean.

he shifts, and suddenly, i feel his calloused fingertips brush against my elbow resting comfortably over the counter. much more tender than last time; my skin burns where he touches it.

"how's your writing going?" he asks, looking into my eyes now.

i tell him i'm still at the magazine, it's going alright. not a lot has changed since we broke up. but it's less exciting, more monotonous. i leave that part out. and he asks me about my own stuff, poems and essays hidden in my drafts.

it's just awkward small talk. so awkward. like we're just acquaintances. friends of friends being left alone, being civil to each other.

it's also a conversation we've had before. documents on my computer that weren't fitting enough for the editors or that i just wrote on a whim. he used to tell me to publish them either way, to leave the magazine and find people who actually appreciate my work, or to start my own thing. but it would be useless; they're not good enough.

"well, i don't know, it's been a while since i've written anything out of work." i take another sip, just to calm down a little. "haven't felt very inspired lately." 

oh my god, shut up– i can't say this to my ex. it's embarrassing, pitiful.

"it happens." he takes my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles. i still shiver "you're really talented, love. you should be proud of yourself. i am."

even his praise hurts now; i miss hearing it daily. it's a stab in my chest, salt on the wound. so i just bite my lip and nod. afraid that if i say something, a choked sob will come out. 

there's longing in his eyes, and he gets a look like he wants to say more. but his gaze flickers behind me for a moment, and he drops my hand and gives my left shoulder a squeeze, showing me a soft smile. 

"i'll leave you be, then. it was nice seeing you, love."

there's a voice in the back of my head begging me to make him stay, but i know i can't do that, not when i recall why it ended the way it did. still, i want to reach for his hand and pull him back to me, just for a few minutes at least. but someone grips my shoulders.

"there you are!" lulu says excitedly, already a few drinks ahead of me. her dark blonde hair messy and her skin glimmering with sweat from all the dancing. bea follows right behind her. "c'mon, let's do some shots, you need to power up for all the dancing you owe me."

"alright." i force a giggle and down my drink as bea asks the bartender for three tequila shots.

a few minutes and many shots later, the three of us are on the dance floor, swaying wildly to the loud, thumping bass of whatever music the dj's playing. just being around my girls makes me feel less anxious, and the flashing lights, plus all the alcohol already flowing through my body are making my mind a bit hazy, which helps me let loose a little. 

as i move, i can feel the beat of the music inside my chest, sweaty bodies pushing against me without a care. i even forget about matty for a minute. i don't think about how his hands used to feel on me when we danced together, not at all.

we dance for maybe 30 minutes. until lulu finds one of her many ex-flings, and, as they catch up, bea asks me to go to the bathroom with her. taking my hand, she leads me out of the crowded area and towards the door labeled "ladies' room". 

the contrast from the mostly dark club to the bathroom's white walls makes my eyes squint. it's colder in here, quieter. i can hear the stifled bass from the music and high heels clicking against the floor tiles.

as i wait for bea, i brace myself on the sink in front of me and look into the mirror. everything is happening too fast. talking to matty, downing shots, and being dragged to the dance floor immediately. my head is pounding. i didn't have the time to process what is going on tonight. 

my ears are ringing, and it feels like all the alcohol has suddenly lost all its effect. instantly sobering up, i grab a paper towel and dab it on my arms and face to try to get rid of the sweat. turning on the sink, i wet my hands and place them on the back of my neck to cool down and try to help with the dizziness. i hear the toilet flush, and bea comes out of the cubicle, running her hands through her wavy black hair. i reach into my purse and pull out my lipgloss, coating my lips evenly while looking at myself in the mirror.

"i'm going to the back for a bit," i tell bea as she approaches the sink next to me.

"you okay? do you need water?" she asks, concerned

"yea- yes, i just need to breathe a little."

"okay, text me if you need anything." i just nod and leave the bathroom. she knows me, knows i need to be alone.

pushing through crowded bodies, i head to the club's back door, leading to a narrow alleyway where the employees usually store extra liquor bottles. it also doubles as a smoking area, so i shouldn't be surprised when i see him as soon as i open the door. tattooed arms flexing as he lights a cigarette, probably not his first one of the night, and i turn back to try to leave before he sees me.

"leaving so soon?" i turn around again and already feel my cheeks heating up. embarrassed, like a kid caught eating dessert before dinner. "you can stay."

"it's okay, i'll go somewhere else," i wave him off mindlessly. he came here to enjoy his cig on his own, right? he doesn't need his ex-girlfriend plaguing his chill alone time "i don't want to bother you, i just need some air."

"please stay." it's not the first time he says this, but this time i do. 

with pink-tinged cheeks and heels clicking loudly, i slowly walk down the three small steps in front of the door and move to stand across him with my back resting against the club's brick wall. the warm summer air hits my skin, and i can hear the rustle of the traffic. "you could never bother me." i pretend i didn't hear him.

"i thought you were quitting," i motion to the burning cigarette between his fingers. the moonlight illuminated the alleyway, making the smoke around him look like some kind of silver aura. he smiles at me.

"i'm trying," he says, taking a drag and blowing it out by the side of his mouth, and i laugh.

"it sure looks like it," i reply, still smiling. i'm not as nervous as i expected i would be in this situation; maybe the alcohol hasn't worn off as much as i thought.

he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "well, you know me".

my eyes follow his every movement, long, calloused fingers holding the rolled paper limply and bringing it up to his red, pouty lips. i start to fidget with the end of my skirt, trying to distract myself by looking at how my fingers twist the fabric. busying myself, so i don't remember how those same lips used to feel against my own or on the curve between my neck and shoulder. 

i look up again when i hear matty step on his cigarette– putting it out– and he starts to walk in my direction. my breath hitches. we are face to face now, noses almost touching. closer than we were at the bar. i can see every freckle on his face when he's this close. i can see the chapped corner of his mouth and the grey that's starting to show up on his now tousled hair.

"why did you leave?" he's straight to the point. his voice comes out low, almost a whisper. at our position, there's no need to be louder than that. there's no hatred in his tone; still, he's not smiling. a flash of hurt appears on his face for a moment. "didn't i make you happy?"

"of course you did, matty." i build the courage to look into his eyes, honey pouring out of them. "we've already talked about this."

he lifts his right hand to rest it on the wall beside my head while letting out a scoff. "but i don't get it," his tone is a little bit louder now. he's not aggressive, but he's not whispering anymore. "what happened?"

"it was for the best." i've stopped whispering too. i place my hands on my forehead. as if to avert the impending headache that will follow this conversation. i don't really know what happened either or when it started happening. i feel sweat droplets running down my hairline, not sure if it's from the summer heat, our closeness, or my disquietude. 

"for the best of who?" he questions, lifting an eyebrow, "i don't feel any better!"

"we were fighting all the time, you know this!" there's a lump in my throat, and i can already feel the pressure between my eyes, working hard so the tears don't fall. i lower my voice again. "it was only a matter of time until one of us left, i just left first."

his gaze softens– probably after seeing my flooding waterline– and it's a while before he talks again, as if he's gathering his thoughts. thinking before he speaks for once, "i could never leave you" it's a low, gravely whisper, and i probably wouldn't have heard it if we weren't this close. "i wish you'd stayed." 

it's a blow to my chest. like a gunshot, blood running down my ribcage. and for a second, i don't think i can breathe.

"i wish you'd done a lot of things, matty." my vision is blurry now, and i feel a single tear roll down my right cheek. i wish he would answer my calls when he stayed late at the studio. i wish he would listen to me when i said i felt neglected. i wish he would give me more security when i felt jealous of the girls partying with him and the boys while i was on the other side of the pond. i wish i stayed. when i can't sleep because i suddenly realize that my bed is too cold, too empty. when i wake up, and there are no kisses on my bare shoulder. when i have to climb over my kitchen counter to reach the can of pasta sauce on the top shelf. when i'm so anxious, and there's no one to hold me… "sometimes i wish i stayed too." 

slowly, his hands cup my jaw. long fingers run lightly across my skin and wipe the lonely tear on my face. the hairs on my neck straighten up, and my heart stirs, beating a little faster. he carefully traces his right thumb over my lower lip, giving me time to reject and push him away. and then, his soft lips lock on mine. no warning. i feel his stubble rub against my chin and let out a sigh. there's a flutter on my lower stomach, burning. i should have pushed him away. instead, my fingers trail up his neck, nails brushing against his skin, and finally into his hair as he coaxes his hot tongue into my mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, of course. i can also taste the rum and lime from the mojito he had earlier. one of his hands travels down and he pulls me by the waist, bodies touching fully now. matty groans into my liquored mouth and i preen; it's good to know i still have that effect on him. that i can still make him let out those pretty sounds with just a kiss. it might be selfish, but we both are. because i bet he's proud too, that every touch of his still sends shivers down my spine. i pull out for air first, lungs already starting to burn. my fingers are still buried in his curls as he rests his forehead on mine, both breathing heavily.

"i need you, love," he whispers against my kiss-swollen lips, voice cracking. there's a smudge of lipgloss on the side of his mouth. it was no use reapplying it.

"matty, i can't," my voice comes out weak, just like how i feel.

"why not? you got somebody?" matty frowns, starting to sound a bit agitated.

i shake my head lightly "i don't."

"what is it?"  

"i already told you" it's my turn to cup his face now, scuff prickling against my palms. "we already had this fight before, you get annoyed because i can't trust you, and i start yelling because you don't take me seriously!"

"of course i take you seriously!" he defends, already becoming increasingly exasperated. i just shake my head; there's no use going through this all over again. it hurt enough the first time. however, i still close my eyes, knowing that if i keep looking at him, the chances of me believing him are higher.

"i'm not built for this, matty," for being away from him, for time zones and phone calls, for pretty girls throwing themselves all over him "i'm not strong enough."

"look at me, baby." his hands moved from my waist up to cup my face again, thumb brushing lightly over my cheekbones. "please," i open my eyes.

"do you love me?" he asks. i realize his eyes are glossed over now "because i love you. so fucking much."

it will be easier if i say no, break his heart all at once. give him a reason to give up. it takes me a while, but i nod.

"yeah?" there's a glimmer of hope on his wet iris.

"i do, but-"

"then we'll figure it out" it's not that simple; just figuring it out is not enough. we hurt each other.

"we'll just end up in the same place, matty," i explain firmly. at this point, tears stream both of our faces. his chest heaves, and i try to contain another sob. he turns his face slightly to press his lips to my palm, just for a second. 

"stay with me, please." our noses touch, and i can no longer distinguish his tears from mine. "i'll do better, i swear."

"it's not going to work."

"just for tonight at least, please," it comes out ragged, and he grazes his lips on mine, leaving a gentle but salty peck. "just for a little bit."

this shouldn't be happening. it's a mess, all of it. no matter how hard or how many times we try, even if we start all over again, we'll just end up in the same place. i know how i am and how he is. our love is tainted, a ticking bomb. so no matter how much i love him, how much i want him, i know we'll just go back to those screaming matches and broken pictures.

but if we keep doing this again and again, maybe then we won't have to say goodbye. at least i won't have to spend an entire lifetime missing him. so maybe just one night won't hurt, right? i've done it a million times. staying for just a little bit won't hurt…i think.

okay, just for a little bit.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty x reader #the 1975 fanfic

[moonschocolate]

Headcanons about my current hyperfixation: THEOO!!☆

I keep stalking the 'theodore nott headcanons' tag so I might as well write my own headcanons about him

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this man has social anxiety. prove me wrong.

when he was younger he found comfort in reading fiction books, like pjo

he 100% had an obsession with greek mythology, or mythology in general, and it's still kinda there but not like before

then growing up he got into classics

like one day he was like 'what if I read a Dostoevskij book' and that's where it all started

he prefers reading this kind of books because they teach you more

tallest boy you've ever seen, somewhat taller (only by few centimeteres) than Fred and George

he plays the cello, like kind of, he knows how to play a piece only studying it, i believe this man was never able to play a piece at first sight

surprisingly (to him) he really has a lot of things in common with Luna, when he found out he wanted to spend more time with her

he's really silent, but GOD does he ever stop thinking?? his head is loud af

enjoys being with his friends, they're used to him not shouting in their ears (unlike some other boy *cough cough* Mattheo *cough cough ... cough*)and he enjoys their company and they do too

not the type of boy to run to Spotify or whatever music app whenever he can, but he enjoys some kind of music (mostly smooth piano jazz, dramatic classical music since it's my fav, and he thinks TV girl, Lamp, Ichiko Aoba are cool)

never replies quickly, he's always late replying cuz thinks being on his phone is a complete waste of time, but it's not like he's NEVER on it

chill with Halloween but feral over Christmas (does not show it)

legos. I've said all.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THIS MAN DOESNT HAVE HIS ROOM FULL OF STAR WARS SETS

despite enjoying english and all that kind of subjects, he is feral, and when I say feral I mean feral over maths. He loves learing new concepts because then it all makes sense and it's just so cool (explained from a person who is also feral over maths, pls tell me you get what i mean)

hyperfixations? oh so many

again, greek mythology

you could tell this man "Hey do you know about the myth of Apolloand Daphne" his eyes would light up and he would tell you the myth, his opinion, and related myths ("there's also this other myht with Apollo where he-")

A S T R O L O G Y

still greek mythology related but

he could stay hours talking about constellations

"hey do you know the myth behind the gemini constellation? No? Can I tell you about it?! Okay so-"

paper stars.

if there's a paper stripe around he'd grab it and make a paper star out of it

looks like the typa guy who'd take a lot of pictures with a canon/sony camera

when he feels anxious he'd do this thing where (get ready for the worst explanation ever) he'd put one of his nails of the right hand in between the skin and the nail of his thumb on his left hand and make the nail go left and right, still in between the skin and the nail (I ALWAYS DO THAT I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE I TRIED TO BE AS SPECIFIC AS I COULD)

He tried to go to a party since Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo, Pansy (basically everyone you get it)... begged him to come along

we could sum up his experience in one word

NIGHTMARE

The music was too loud, the people were to close to him, everyone was shouting, there were alcohol and drugs (he still wonders how they got literal drugs into the castle), everyone tried to dance with him and talk to him, that time he got overwhelmed tried to leave, but they were all like 'heyyyy nooo dont leaveeeee stay hereeeeee' but his friends understood it wasn't for him and Blaise went with him to his dorm, waited until he felt better then went back to the party

has never been to a party since then

smart af

like he easily surpasses draco and mione

also theo and mione are really close friends, one time they found eachother in the library reading the same book and chatting they found out they have several things in common

has a collection of stylographs, that stays in his library neatly ordinated

best sense of style (he obv got it from Blaise but he made it better)

he loves movies, he's watched movies like Dead Poets Society, Dorian Gray, but also movies about historical facts like The Darkest Hour, The King's Speech, Hidden Figures, The Pianist (I'm a sucker for this kind of movies honestly)

!! HE HAS DIMPLES !!

He loves professor Lupin, he thinks of him as Keating is dps

secretly listens to Micheal Bublè in Christmas, he loves his Christmas songs

he only buys old books, never new ones, he thinks that already used books, from decades ago, he thinks they hold stories, and it's even better when the books have annotations, maybe he'll erase them, but it's good to hear other's opinions

has a lot of vynils

used to study for his dad, now this became a habit, that's why he's the best in class

his relationship with his mom is not strong, MORE

When his mom died he was 5 so he didn't understand

when he finally knew the truth he cried for weeks, then he would occasionally go out to look at the stars, which he always admired with his mom, and cried thinking about her, thinking that she was watching him from up there

when he was like 10 he didn't cry no more, only if he ever opened up

he shared anything with her

he NEVER let ANYONE call him Teddy, he always though that is what his mom called him, and he didn't want other people to 'interfere' with that, he feels like it's their thing

despises horror movies. gets scared to death watching them, and doesnt find the lore interesting

never walks around with only socks on, has the fear of walking on water accidentally and getting his feet wet and the feeling disgustes him

also, has the whole collection of pjo books (every book. from percy jackson and the olympians to the chalice of the gods)

loves cats so much, he has two cats, but he wishes he had more

he has male brown cat named Monet and a grey cat with some beige spots and green eyes (it's mt bsf's cat, I love her - the cat - and I thought she could be a honourable mention) named Vivienne

defo has an obsession with sharks, but is even more obsessed with jellyfish, he knows a lot of scientific names for their species, for exmample Phylloriza Punctata, or Chrisaora Quinquecirrha, or Aurelia Aurelita, he's obsessed

Fav subject isn't potions, it's astronomy instead

since i live for loser!Theo, im in love with the idea of him stuttering in front of a guy/girl he finds cute or attractive, blushing and being awkward

my man absolutely doesn't know how to talk, he speaks too fast, and when ppl tell him to slow down, then he thinks he's talking too slow

if anyone fatshames any of his friends, or is racist/homophobic towards them, or just insults them, he will try to avoid throwing punches, but lets say he'll exchange a word or two with that person

if he's itchy, he scratches so hard there could be blood (a bit exaggerated but you get it)

could've been a Ravenclaw, but if he did his father would be really mad at him, so he's happy he isn't

another headcanon that I kindly stole rn from @heirofs1ytherin is that he's into poetry. LIKE 100% ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ You probably got that I love him HES MY BABY

#loser!theo #theodore nott #theo nott #harry potter fandom #harry potter #harry potter headcanons #theodore nott headcanons #theo nott headcanons #hp #lightning era #hermione granger #mione #blaise #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #theodore faustus nott #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin gang #autistic!theo nott #imagine #thats probably enough tags #i just want ppl to read this #:D

[shakirawastaken]

dsmp if..you were a famous singer!

okay i liteally read @/beeindaclouds stuff ALL THE TIME and got inspired so here it is :D

my official comeback (and it isnt a taylor swift song fic!!! whaaaat) 

dream: - in love with ur music even if wasnt his vibe - bro would learn to like it LMFAOOO - learns all the words instantly its an instant thing - even before u know the words he knows them - is willing to help you write music cause he has some minimal experience! can give feedback but its not that technical - please collab with him and make him release trust issues - now that he’s face revealed hed BUMP at your concerts - hed tweet about ur music, and his spotify twitter account thing would report hes listening to it but i feel like he wouldnt do more than that publicly - wants you to have your own thing  - huge and major fan

george: - more a lowkey fan - obv still supports you hes like that - listens to ur music but not on stream - also tweets about it but its like “go listen to my s/o’s new music:) they worked hard on it” - wants ur effort and talent to be recognized - listens to it and when asked for feedback just goes “it sounds good darling” - hes just like “alr its good like always”

sapnap: - okay he’d either be really similar to george OR hes go HARD - tweeting snapping instagramming streaming whatever social you name hes THERE - “GUYS OMG [ARTIST NAME] RELEASED MORE MUSIC ITS SO GOOD” - would beg george and karl to get you on banter just to talk about your music - and if you write a song about him?? - suddenly his whole world is perfect - “ABOUT ME? OH DOLL THIS IS AMAZING YOUR BEST WORK YET” - buys ur merch even tho ur his s/o - offers his input even if he knows it might not be the best  - would dance to it with you - your NUMBER ONE BIGGEST FAN 

karl: - he’d be so sweet about it - “this is AMAZING? oh my god you’re amazing??!?” - has it as an intro to his streams  - *streaming* “guys that songs is by my s/o btw” - makes mr beast listen to it  - tweets about it. alot - posts one (1) picture on his instargam of the both of you in the studio from when u were recording - loves you loves you loves you

quackity: - covers it on stream and makes it cursed - “HAHAHAH no guys but its actually good go listen to it nOW” - keeps up his joker persona but tells you how hes proud of you in private - vERY supportive - will stay up when ur trying to write (cause hes also up doing lawyer shit) - begs u to do a song in spanish  - if you know spanish pls make it about him - if not dont ask him for help he will ruin it - if you wrote a song like getaway car or like shutdown or mooo hed DEF listen to it in the car  - he loved to listen to ur song while driving it brings him joy - two things he loves together

punz: - listens while playing val LMFAO - would VIBE if u did like indie rap or soemthing - and if it wasnt his vibe? hed still listen cause he wants to support you - maybe not as much as he would have but its fine - cause he likes you a lot - would send you beats randomly be like “lol use this” - “no i dont want too” “babe :((”

wilbur: - POWER . COUPLE - WRITE A SONG WIHT LOVEJOY? WORLD GOES CRAZY - will help you write music. hes good at it too he knows what to do and like what to say - listens to ur music, no matter what it is - wouldnt promotw in much he knows how important it is to build ur own following and + if ur famous u dont need it - u could feature him tbh maybe background vocals or guitar if he was kinda skeptical - or just duet it - its cold outside type beat yk - he loves you and supports you tremendously

LET ME KNOW WHAT ELSE YOU GUYS WANNA SEE :D reqs are open

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #george x reader #karl x reader #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #punz x reader #wilbur soot x reader #dsmp headcannons #dsmp x reader #mcyt headcannons #mcyt x reader #shakira shakira writes #dsmp if...

[tokio-motel]

Hey omg ive been reading your storys and i cant stop ther all so good omg anyway can you make a fic with male reader x tom and bill. Basically we are bill and toms celebrity crush evry scene they were little like 2005 and like in 2006/2007

And like we reach out to them and ask if they wanna make a collaboration (like a song together) and every one from tokio hotel is excited to be working with us but tom and bill are like freaking out wean they see us infrot of them

KAULITZ TWINS X MALE READER

hii bae! I loved this request <3 I went off track near the end so pls forgive me 😋

For as long as Tom and Bill could remember, they had always liked M/N. I mean, who wouldn't? He was funny, handsome, and kind. At first they thought it was just admiration, but they found out that they had a true crush on this celebrity. The twins found this a bit strange though, as they almost never liked the same person at the same time. The two of them just couldn't stop loving M/N though, as much as they tried to. 

Georg and Gustav would sometimes tease the brothers about this, though. And today just so happend to be one of those days.

 "Seriously though, who's gonna walk down the isle with the dress?" Georg teased as he tossed a cracker into his mouth, Gustav giggling beside him. Bill just rolled his eyes and ignored the two as he sipped his coke. "Bill definitely has the legs for it." Gustav muttered, making Tom snort and Bill throw his can of soda at the blonde. Gustav yelped, flinching as the can missed him by a centimeter. "Oh,fuck you!" Bill sneered, although his cheeks flushed red. 

The tour bus door opened as Jost walked it. Everybody quickly fixed their posture and stopped goofing off, although they felt less tense as they saw Jost smile. "Well kids," he began, making Georg scoff before clearing his throat as Tom shot him a piercing look. Hey it wasn't his fault- Georg was 19, he wasn't a kid anymore! "Good news. We have just recently gotten a collaboration request from somebody. I'm sure you guys will be excited when-" Jost was cut off by Tom, who excitedly exclaimed "Avril?!". Gustav chortled quietly, his smiling dropping as quick as it appeared when he received a stern look from Jost. Bill gave a little smile to Jost, excited to see who he would make music with. 

"... No. I was going to say the collab was 'gonna be with M/N." The twins smiles fell quickly, a look of disbelief and excited in their eyes. "I...M/N? Like.. M/N L/N?" Bill coughed. All it took was a nod from Jost and the tour bus went wild. Georg whooped out loud, Gustav started to laugh, and the twins talked non stop. "Really?!" "We're gonna work with M/N?" "AHHHHHHH I CAN'T WAIT!" Bill and Tom squealed like little girls seeing puppies. Jost shushed them, the tour bus going silent apart from the little giggles from all members. 

"Hush, you sound like toddlers." Jost scolded, but he was smiling brightly himself. "But yes, we will be working with him." Georg quirked an eyebrow, looking at Jost expectantly. "Is he coming to our studio or..?" he questioned, glancing at Gustav to see if he knew. "Don't look at me you dumbass." Gustav muttered, rolling his eyes. "Yes. He should be at our studio.. in two days." When Jost said that Tom let out a small gasp. "T-two days? Really?" 

"Mmmhhmm." Jost concluded. "Now, M/N wanted to see if you guys wanted to......" 

-TWO DAYS LATER 😱😱-

Bil groaned as he looked in the mirror. Although he wasnt going out to brunch or photoshoots he had still did his makeup, yet he was too lazy to do his hair so it layed over his shoulders. Tom came in behind him, pushing him lightly to the side so he could get his toothbrush to brush his teeth. "Tom.. Are you nervous?" Bill asked, sitting on the closed toilet seat. Tom took a second before responding, brushing his teeth fast before he spat into the sink, washing out his mouth. 

"I'm always nervous before studio days, Billy. " He responded, going to wash his face with the soap. Bill groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "Nooo Tom.. I meant about M/N being here." Bill pouted, elbows resting on his kneecaps as he rested his chin upon his hands. Tom shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Ehhh I guess so. But I'm not too worried, you?" Tom asked, adjusting his baggy shirt. Bill bit his lip," Aggh, I don't know! I think I am but I just-" Bill began, but he was cut off as Gustav banged on the door.       " Hurry the fuck up I gotta piss dude! ". Tom giggled as he opened the door, letting Bill out before himself. He gave his little brother a small smile. "C'mon, Bill. Don't worry about it. Everything will be okay." Bill softly smiled back. "Yeah.. Yeah." Bill nodded, "I'm okay." 

-at the studio-

Bill paced back and forth, humming Monsoon under his breath. Georg was adjusting his bass as Gustav played a few beats on his drums. Tom has his headphones plugged into his phone, listening to God knows what. It was mostly silent until they heard a few knocks on the door, Jost going to open it with a smile on his face. When he opened it, it was indeed M/N in all his glory. He smiled at Jost before smiling at all the band members, putting his coat on the cost rack in the corner. Georg smiled and introduced himself, going to shake M/N's hand as Gustav greeted him. Bill felt his legs to wobbly and Tom felt like he didn't have any more air in him. 

Bill had paused his pacing next to Tom, as Tom grabbed onto Bills elbow lightly. Bill smiled at Tom, excitement pulsing in his veins. He didn't even realise M/N was behind him. "Hey, Bill and Tom! What's up?" he greeted politely, holding out his hand. Bill turned around, his face red. He started at M/N for a second before he put a smile on his face and shook M/N's hand, his hand feeling limp as M/N held a firm grip. "Ah! It's so nice to finally meet you." Bill said with what he hoped was confidence. The (color) haired boy then turned to Tom and held his hand out, Tom gulping before taking it and smiling up at him." Hey, M/N..!" he greeted, his tounge playing with his lip ring. He shuddered slightly when M/N winked at him before retracting his hand. 

When they all decided it was time to discuss ideas, the G's came over and sat to the right of Tom. M/N took a seat between the twins, making them both blush and get flustered. M/N began to speak.  "Ah okay, well I was thinking about doing this because....." 

(you can like make up a song the made cuz I'm not writing allat 🙏🙏😍)

"Wow.." Tom said as M/N came to a conclusion. He really did like M/N's ideas as did the rest of the band. Gustav and Georg had even added a few of their ideas, which went with the theme of the song perfectly. M/N began to speak about different intros they could start with, but Bill lost track as M/N's hand brushed against his own. He felt like he had been electrocuted but..in a good way? He wanted it to happen again and again. He felt himself shuffle slightly closer to M/N, trying to disguise it under wanted to hear M/N more clearly. He nearly died when M/N smirked at him and asked his own opinion about the song. 

"I uh.. I think it sounds great so far! Really, it's perfect." Bill babbled, feeling himself grow more red. The two G's giggled under their breath. "I'm glad you think so!" M/N smiled at him. 

When everybody got set up, they began the rough draft. It actually turned out good, but redoing the song 3 times in a row definitely burned it into Tom's mind. Tom groaned after the 4th time, cracking his neck as he rubbed it. "Awhh, fuck man. My neck is killing me." Georg rolled his eyes, knowing that he too was bent over his guitar and he didn't feel any pain. M/N glanced over at Tom, laughing softly to himself as he reached over and began to dig into his shoulders and neck. Even though it would have hurt Tom normally, he felt himself lean into the touch as he flushed pink. 

He forced himself to hold back a small whimper when M/N hit a particularly sensitive spot, biting his bottom lip preventing himself from making noise. He blushed harder as he heard M/N chuckle as he looked at the dreadhead. 

-Later in the break room-

They all sat on couches in the break room, Bill smoking a cig as he was seated next to M/N, Tom on Bills  left. The G's sat infront of them, holding back laughs as he saw how jittery the twins were. Georg finished his water, going to get up to throw it out and get another. Gustav followed, giggling as he whispered something to Georg that made him snort and nearly choke on his own spit. 

So it was just the twins and M/N, yay! Bill continued smoking his cigarette as he leaned onchis brother, Tom humming the best of their new song lowly as he shook his leg. M/N looked between the two of them, smirking slightly. "So.. Y'all trying to grab lunch?" M/N asked, looking at the two of them. He noted how they both went flushed and hesitated before agreeing "Yeah!"they said in union, smiling softly at the celebrity. 

They landed at some Italian restaurant, ordering a pizza. (if u don't like pizza sorry 😴) M/N took a bitevas he realised that the twins would glance at him every few seconds, taking bites of their own food. "Mmhh? Is there something on my face..?" M/N jokingly said, holding back a giggle as he watched how surprised and flustered the boys looked. The two apologized as they blushed, looking down at their food. "Y'know, you guys are pretty bad at masking your feelings."

Tom nearly spat out his water as Bill looked at M/N with a scared expression.  "I-..what do you mean?" Bill started as he stuttered, Tom being quiet trying to recover from choking. M/N shrugged, taking a sip of his water. "I mean, I can tell you guys like me." M/N nearly laughed as he watched Tom's jaw drop and Bill blink rapidly. He spoke again before the twins could get a chance. "Really though, I don't care. You guys are cute anyways." He continued, taking another bite of his pizza as he grabbed another slice "Cute?" Tom repeated, smiling slightly. 

M/N chuckled to himself "Ehhh.. Ive liked you guys since.. He looked up as he pondered." 2006..?" ( it can be like 2007-2008 👍) Bill cocked his head to the side "You've liked us.. Both?" he muttered, feeling his palms get sweaty. "Yeah. I mean, who wouldn't?" It was really shocking Tom that M/N could speak like this with confidence, not being nervous about his feelings. "So... Now what?" Tom asked, spinning his ring on his finger. M/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Hmm, I dunno. I mean, you like me and I like you both.." Bills mouth opened and closed a few times before speaking. 

"Do you have to like,.. Pick?" He began, looking worried as he glanced at Tom. "I don't care if you and Tom date." Tom shook his head, about to say that M/N and Bill could date, before M/N spoke with a calm and easy tone. "It's easy. I date you both." Tom blinked s few times as Bill looked at M/N with curiosity. "... You can do that..?" he asked silently, biting his lip. Tom followed up, "What about like..jealously and that shit?" 

M/N smiled softly at both of them, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I mean obviously we'd talk about boundaries and jealously and communication." Bill nodded slightly, looking over at Tom. "I'm okay if your okay with it." Bill said, patting Tom's shoulder gently. Tom seemed to think about it for a few more seconds before he glanced at his brother and then at you, smiling. "I'm fine with it." 

"How much you wanna bet Bill will go down the isle in the dress?" They heard muttered behind them. Bills face scrunched as he turned, revealing the G's giggling. 

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x male reader #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x male reader #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x male reader #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tokio hotel

[imnotokayhru]

Nah cuz, why can I imagine a fic where like Hawkins high school has a prom, you know?

But like it’s when Eddie & Steve are in high school at the same time

And Eddie has no one to go with, so he ends up going alone just for shits and giggles and to see what it’s like, and then he ends up meeting the infamous Steve “the hair” Harrington who got ditched by his date and he sits next to Eddie on the floor because he’s sad

And Eddie’s like, “What’s up with you?”

And Steve is like, “My date left me.”

And Eddie’s like, “Well I came alone if that makes you feel better.”

And Steve just looks at him, in a moment of desperation like, “Would you like to dance with me?”

And that’s how they end up slow dancing with each other to “Careless Whisper” by George Micheal

And they totally kiss at that one part that goes “Tonight the music seems so loud, I wish that we could lose this crowd..”

Nobody would notice ofc, but I’m just saying, Steve is definitely questioning his sexuality afterwards and looks at Eddie in a whole new light

(Yo if any of you make this a fic, tag me pls)

#stranger things #stranger things season 4 #steddie #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things season four #stranger things series #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic #fanfiction #fanfic #someone please write this

[oh-saints]

bowling

what were the odds of the one and only sir lewis hamilton sparing you some time for a mini lesson on mercedes' annual bowling session in japan?

lewis hamilton x merc-crew!OC

word count: 2.3k

tw: nothing

note: blurbs because that particular gif above still sent me UGHHH istg pls sir i just wanna finish GR's part 2 and the mason story i have in mind :(

“who hasn’t had any turns?”

susie wolff was still beaming as she scanned the bowling alley the team had reserved beforehand for the mercedes-amg petronas f1 team’s annual bowling session. the matron—god bless the woman—was visibly trying hard to involve everyone and making sure everyone’s involved, not leaving everyone behind. at the end of the day, the bowling session was an initiative to bring the mobile crew members closer as well as an outlet to let out their stress after going through halfway around the world for a full season of racing.

“you!” susie wolff pointed at the girl at the far back, just as the girl intended to until susie discovered her wishing the earth to swallow her whole so she didn’t have to participate the sport. “how dare you try to slip away from my sight! aletta, you’re next!”

“no, no, no, no, no,” aletta shook her head ferociously she could feel her head going dizzy from the violent shake. “please, no. not me.”

“why not?” george—god, the mischief george—discreetly challenged her to give the rest of the crew a good reason as to why she had to be excluded. she knew because, even without many explicit words being said, george liked to rouse an emotion from her. for god knows what. “are you scared to lose?”

“no!” at george’s raised brow, aletta pursed her lips to give herself a moment to think how to answer george. as much as she enjoyed their bickering, aletta didn’t want to fuel any fire george might be lighting up soon. “it’s not that.”

everyone was expectant of her, of her answer, because everyone had bowled their turns.

except for sir lewis hamilton.

which made everyone realise they were short of one person playing, when the team had registered an even number of people to play today.

fuck it. lewis was brilliant at this—the entire bowling session was sparked by his motive to introduce the crew to one of his favorite sports—and there was no way she could cover her disastrous skills and experience. she didn’t see any choice but to heed to george’s next question.

“then what is it?”

“i can’t bowl for life, okay, george?” aletta let out a heavy huff from her nose. “happy now?”

“then at least try,” susie came down to aletta’s seat before clutching aletta’s hands in hers. “please? for me?”

who was she to deny THE susie wolff, anyway? if she did, she might upset susie, which would upset toto. and upset toto wasn’t the easiest hulk to put down to sleep. god help us all when his emotions were spiked.

“okay,” aletta gave in, pursing her lips hesitantly. “but please teach me how.”

“oh, lewis can teach you!” susie jumped up from the seat beside her and dashed for lewis’ attention. “lewis, will you please give aletta the basics of bowling?”

lewis’ signature light-weighted voice resonated well like it was music to aletta’s ears. “you’ve never played?”

aletta stepped forward timidly, every step she took signalled she was succumbing to the embarrassment of being defeated by susie wolff and her eyes blinking rapidly—a sign she was utterly nervous; not just because she was to humiliate herself in front of hundreds of people, but she was about to step up to sir lewis hamilton. as the new junior social media officer, she was usually attached to george russell instead of handing the meticulous and particular job for the senior driver.

“no…?” aletta instinctively reached for a ball—my days, that is flipping heavy!—to the nerves threatening to spill all over the floor. gross, that would’ve been a whole new level of humiliation. “is that so hard to believe?”

aletta wished lewis wouldn’t catch on how she was struggling to hold the ball but the light vibrations under her feet told her the otherwise.

“nope, wrong ball,” lewis grabbed the shiny object from her hands and put it back where it belonged. “where do you hangout with your friends then?”

“you don’t want the answer to that.”

lewis, for unbeknownst reason to aletta, laughed at her submission before turning around to give her another bowling ball. “try me. but is that still too heavy for you?”

aletta’s eyes widened as she weighed down the ball. she didn’t know there were different types of this thing. “this one’s perfect, thank you.”

lewis nodded in acknowledgement. “you’re holding it wrong but answer me first then we’ll start the basic.”

the younger woman was surprised that the sir lewis hamilton was willing to hear how she lamely spent her time. “we read books together and have a discussion about it.”

“okay, look at how i hold the bowling ball. make sure it’s these three fingers that you put inside those three holes because you’ll hurt your fingers if you don’t,” lewis went ahead to demonstrate it for her before he put it down and corrected the digits she placed in those little, ugly black holes. “ah, yes, i heard your book community.”

“you did?!”

thank god lewis was still holding the hand she placed on the bottom side of the ball, stabilising her as his words sent every fibre of her being out of this world. god knows what’d happen if she dropped the heavy object right to his feet—oh the thought she could’ve jeopardized his next race header raised hairs all over her body.

aletta, in fact, built a strong online community centred to feel woman empowered from books they read. every week she would determine which book to be read to be discussed on the next community discussion. the fantastic engagement on the social media she created for the community was one of the reasons why mercedes hired her in the first place.

but she had no idea—none, nada—that there was a famous figure watching over her account, especially as famous as lewis hamilton. not even george, whom she had been working together from the beginning of this season, knew about the existence of her digital persona.

the shock even alternated her mind from the fact that lewis hamilton was holding her hands. in other circumstances, aletta would’ve gagged at this whole “the prince and the pauper” scene.

“yes, i think it’s impressive how you can unite people through books,” lewis pushed her towards the alley when he was done showing her how to hold the ball. aletta guessed lewis would’ve shaken his head at how ridiculous she was—how could one not know bowling? “you can even make them feel empowered from the characters a fiction book creates. what you do is amazing, is that so hard to believe?”

“it’s more of i can’t believe you’ve heard of the community,” aletta took a shaky breath as lewis corrected her posture this time, to stand a bit straighter. “no one here knows about them except my manager and the hiring team.”

“you really should tell me how you go incognito like that when in reality you have almost half a million followers,” lewis laughed under his breath, probably at his own irony. “now, you’re ready to bowl?”

“never.”

and there was the carefree laugh—the one people always said it sounded like a grandpa wheezing—but to her it was rainbow coming to life. at that moment, aletta got reminded of her sister’s answer to her question of “when do you know you like him?”. the other woman smiled dreamily as she answered, “when you just want to make him laugh all the time.”

“here, watch me.”

it turned out lewis hamilton truly graced the pedestal to teach her how to bowl properly. heck, lewis hamilton went galactic and beyond to lift her from the brink of embarrassing herself further. he went step by step to make sure she got the right posture to get a strike.

susie was the one to call it off the mini tutoring session between lewis and aletta as soon as the matron realised aletta now possessed enough of skills to bowl her first ball without rolling it to the gutter. lewis pushed the small part of her back gently before aletta took her bowling stance—three steps from the line, just as lewis instructed—for the first time ever in her short span of life. but as soon as she let go of the ball, aletta didn’t have the heart to see how many pins she managed to knock out. she didn’t want to get her hopes high after being taught by lewis, only to find george laughing at her result.

but simultaneous cheers she got instead. then the machine voice boomed. strike!

aletta had never turned around so fast in her entire life that it made her head spinning in dizziness. she saw that the machine didn’t lie and that she had, indeed, violently put down the entire set of aligned pins. she could feel her jaw slacking before she realised what she was doing.

on the background, lewis was definitely laughing at her reaction but clapping nonetheless. “you sure this is your first time? you’ve got it in you!”

aletta shook her head. “no way i did that.”

“yes way, missy,” lewis stepped up with his own bowling ball before rolling the shiny object on his own lane. “this is going to be a fun game with you. now it’s your turn again.”

lewis recognise aletta was about to dash for her life so he got a hold of her wrist to stop her from going anywhere. aletta groaned at how fast lewis moved to retaliate her initiation. “can somebody take my place instead?”

“why?”

“because i suck at it, i can feel it!”

“you just hit a strike, who does that on her first ever attempt to bowl?”

“it’s called beginner’s luck, lewis,” aletta rolled her eyes, half with the intention to forget the feeling of lewis’ hands lost from her skin. “we all have that.”

“alright, ms. partypooper,” lewis rolled the sleeves of his black customised sweater and may god forgive aletta for ogling at the sight. “tell you what. if you roll the dice once more and you fail to hit another strike, you can have me do whatever content you’re planning for the next race week.”

her senior social media officer—the one who was responsible for lewis’ appearances on all of mercedes-amg petronas f1 team’s social media—and their direct social media manager jumped elatedly at lewis’ offer in exchange of the challenge. they immediate shouted you can do this! to aletta, even though they were metres away from where aletta and lewis stood. aletta couldn’t even hide the fact that she was tempted at the prize waiting for her at the end of the line because everyone knows lewis didn’t do any more social media stuffs to gain engagement, interactions, or anything that could possibly land him another sponsorship.

(oh to be legends, aletta sighed.)

“you’re being serious?”

lewis raised his eyebrows, giving her what the fuck look. “do i look like i’m joking?”

“nooooooot really… but what’s in it for you?”

lewis only answered her question by handing her another ball fitted for her size as he said, “one way to find out, no?”

aletta could simply lose by not performing well and got the content we all had been waiting for. the thing was, lewis taught her too well for a first-timer that aletta didn’t know how to downgrade the skill she had gained from the world class athlete. she couldn’t even pretend she didn’t know how to bowl anymore, her acting prowess would put pornstars on any podium.

hence, another strike.

this time, aletta didn’t have any time to turn around and avoid digesting reality. everything happened to fast as she focused on not slipping after she threw the ball on the alley that when she stood up, the pins had all already been on the floor, colliding against each other. she gasped at the incredible sight, remained rooted to the ground while the machine swept away the pins clear because fucking hell. aletta didn’t have any athletic bone and now she striked twice?

“told you you’re a natural,”

hairs stood up once more at lewis’ voice came up behind her, gentle as usual but a hint of something more laced behind it. like she should be scared of it. like she should be scared of lewis, for the first time in forever. like she should be scared of what would happen with their dynamics. but may god forgive her for her disinterest to succumb to the fear and wanting to find out what’s in the bag for them. like she just wanted to scream fuck you! to the world and listen to the devil for once.

the pause was killing her because she knew—god did she know—lewis still stood behind her. his breath tickled the back of her ear the only way he knew how, the only way her body alighted at the subtle touch. she wished he’d get this done and over it because my days, aletta couldn’t stand the pregnant tension between them. she was so afraid if she breathed, it’d scatter the bubble and ruin the life of her and she had to walk down the walk of shame.

but maybe aletta should’ve listened to what her mother says. pray in detail; how would God know what you want? aletta had to remind herself to exhale the breath that was caught in her throat, now panting as a result, because bloody hell did she not expect the seam of lewis’ lips grazed down the shell of her ear so featherily she would think she was dreaming if it wasn’t for the next string of words.

“seems like i get to take you for a dinner sometimes. after all, you still owe me the tricks to go incognito.”

#sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #lh44 #team lh44 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #oh-saints writes

[hotchs-bitch]

Hold On

Summary: When a case hits a little too close to home, it’s time for Aaron to face the music and be honest about his feelings after the breakup

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Hotch x Beth mentioned, Emily Prentiss x mentioned oc (aka @leftoverenvy)

Word count: ~12k (the girl cannot shut up) (it’s closer to 13 but it’s worth it I swear to god it is)

Warnings: hotch pov, case-compliant violence/injuries, mentions of suicide, mentions of pregnancy & pregnancy scares, domestic actions without fluff, relationship talk/references to relationship, angst angst angst, deep delving into their feelings, this is basically a case study, I once again leaned way too heavily on song lyrics so pls listen to it

A/N: As Taylor Swift said…. Dear reader, if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one. Mwahaha. Anyways I hope you enjoy this. Massive shoutout to @munsons-curls and @doctorstethoscope for fixing my many mistakes and validating me, and to everyone who has let me take them on this little ride. I can’t express how much I’ve enjoyed writing this fic, or how excited I am to write the epilogue

Find it on ao3 here and as always, happy reading <3

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—————

There's so many dreams that we have given up

Take a look at all we've got

And with this kind of love what we've got here is enough

So hold on to me tight, hold on, I promise it'll be alright

'Cause we are stronger here together than we could ever be alone

Just hold on to me, don't you ever let me go

Once upon a time, Aaron had considered himself lucky. He had a steady job, as dangerous as it was fulfilling, with the BAU. He had a son, energetic and joyous despite all he’d been through. He had you, beautiful and strong and endlessly supportive of him. He had a version of the life he had always wanted, the normalcy of family game night and someone else making Jack eat his veggies. It had been perfect.

But then, he’d screwed up. Hadn’t he? He had opened up, just a bit too much, and told you something you didn’t want to hear. Scared you off.

Instead of spending the rest of his life with you, as he’d planned, Aaron found himself alone. He tried not to blame you, tried not to feel bitter about the inevitable result of finally opening up to someone so wholly. 

He bit back every thought of how conditional your love turned out to be, every scathing remark about how Biometrics was one of the most useless departments in the Bureau. He pretended not to care when he overheard that you were dating again, courtesy of JJ and Prentiss’ water cooler gossip.

He’d done what Aaron Hotchner always did; he’d buckled up, lifted his chin, and done what was expected of him. He’d found a nice girl, one that fell for him quickly, and he wished he could return the depths of her affection. He’d continued to work, putting away bad guys with Morgan and Reid while missing the easy way you’d always been able to read his mind in the field.

He moved apartments as soon as it became apparent that the ghost of you would never leave; he just wished that it hadn’t followed him, haunting him with thoughts of you dancing around the new stainless steel kitchen, or flopping onto the brand new suede couch.

He’d done what you asked him to, two years ago when you’d walked away from him and left him to pick up the pieces of his son’s broken heart and ignore his own.

Everyone has a breaking point, though. Aaron, to his credit, hadn’t reached it many times in his life.

There was the first time his father hit his little brother; the first time Aaron fought back. Open-handed slaps, broken noses, Sean screaming. He had never regretted it, not even when he wound up in the hospital that night.

There was George Foyet, dead on the blood-soaked carpet after a blur of a fight. Bloody knuckles, blurry vision, Haley’s blood flecked on her killer’s face. He’d do it a hundred times over if he had the chance.

There was the breakup, the one that simultaneously snuck up on him and had been inevitable. Crumpled flowers, Aaron yelling, you packing your desk. If he hadn’t snapped, would you have stayed?

And then there were the breaking points Aaron never expected to reach.

Leaving for a case the day you broke up with him, only to return to a half-empty apartment. Empty closet, the ‘hers’ sink from the his-and-hers themed bathroom scrubbed clean, your favourite mug left in the dishwasher. He had shattered the mug, thrown it off the balcony where you liked to drink your coffee in the mornings.

The first time you’d come along on a team outing after the breakup. Laughter, avoiding glances, ignoring how good you looked. He had taken home the first woman who caught his eye that night, learned her name- Beth- and given her a place in his life, like that would solve anything.

No matter how many breaking points he experienced, Aaron could never be sure about when the next one would occur. His saving grace through it all was that at least he could keep his composure at work. 

Where Aaron failed, Hotch wasn’t allowed to.

Maybe that’s why it’s such a shock when the team gets news of a bombing in New York, just days after Emily’s wedding, and Hotch nearly keels over at his desk. 

You’re in New York.

— — — 

The drive to the airstrip is a blur; the whole team is worried, of course, but Aaron can hardly see straight until he’s on the plane with a file in his hand and Emily is squeezing his arm. 

He remembers giving a quick and quiet order to Garcia, to call you and find out if you’re okay, and it doesn’t help his nerves that all she could tell him was, “Her phone is off.”

“She’s okay, you know,” Emily murmurs, discreet enough that no one else can hear. “It’s a big city. She’s just fine. We’ll catch this guy, and then you can see her. We just need to work the case first.”

Aaron- Hotch, now- takes a deep breath and does his best to hide that those words are exactly what he needs to hear right now, even if he doesn’t plan on seeing you. She’s right; they just need to work the case. “Alright. Okay,” he says a little louder, “What do we know?”

“Not much,” Morgan frowns at the file in his hand. “A bomb went off at The Vessel. It was a structure, I guess, but no one was allowed inside and that’s where the bomb was. Makes sense with the casualty numbers- Seven wounded, two dead.”

“Probably nearby tourists, taking pictures with it,” Prentiss says thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s sending a message to outsiders, but didn’t want a high body count.”

“That could be it,” Rossi agrees. “‘Stay out of my city’.”

“There’s been no communication to any news outlets so far,” JJ chimes in. “I don’t think we’ll learn much more until we get there and have a chance to check out the scene.”

Reid adjusts a few papers so they align, most of his attention focused on the task. “You know, most seemingly random bombings have a high chance of being followed up with a string of serial bombings, for a number of reasons. Sometimes the unsub gets addicted to the attention, or the feeling of killing, or the initial bomb doesn’t impact the intended target,” he continues, not noticing the look Rossi is shooting him.

Hotch takes a deep breath and tries to push back the feeling in his chest that resembles a brick being crushed into his sternum. “Alright. JJ is right. There’s not much more we can do with no signature and no other bombings. Everyone, just try to relax; I have a feeling we won’t be getting much rest in New York.”

He watches as the team follows his instruction. The tension is palpable but they know there’s nothing they can do; the waiting is everyone’s least favourite part of the job. Still, they try to relax. Morgan pulls on his headphones and closes his eyes, JJ and Reid start to play cards, and Prentiss and Rossi re-open their file folders to review case details.

As much as he’d like to do the same, Aaron can’t bring himself to move. He sits there, head against the window, and he wonders if you’re okay. Were you caught in the blast? Did you become one of Reid’s bombing statistic numbers? Or are you perfectly fine, content somewhere in the city with no idea that Aaron is on his way there?

He wonders, briefly, against his will in a moment dripping with guilt, which potential is worse.

———

Aaron Hotchner is something of a practiced master at hiding his agony. Maybe that’s why his voice is so level when the plane starts to descend, and he finally speaks to do the one thing he knows how; direct his team.

“Morgan and Rossi, go to the bombing site. See what you can find. Prentiss, head to the hospital with Reid and start talking to victims, and JJ, see if any news outlets have been contacted yet. We’ll meet at the station later.”

As though on cue, Garcia’s computer screen against the wall of the jet lights up. The tech analyst looks a bit paler than usual, and Hotch crosses his fingers and chalks it up to bad lighting until she speaks.

“Sir, there was another bombing. Three minutes ago, in a grocery store near the Village. There’s no casualty numbers yet.” She looks like she might cry now, and it’s not hard to figure out why.

“A grocery store is a serious escalation,” Rossi says, opening the file folder he’d just closed. “There’s locals, long-stay tourists, families shopping. Big jump from a tourist trap.”

“So we know he’s not possessive of the city. At least, he isn’t just trying to get rid of perceived outsiders,” JJ offers, and Morgan shakes his head.

“If this guy is looking for the homey-cozy ‘love thy neighbour’ deal, he’s not about to get it in New York no matter what he bombs,” he points out.

When the plane jostles them all a little, Hotch takes the moment of silence to re-assess assignments. “Garcia, is search and rescue at the second bombing site?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. The team is split between doing recovery at both locations,” she says, and one nod from Rossi means Hotch doesn’t hesitate to reassign.

“Morgan, you’re with me at the new site. We’ll be assisting with search and rescue before anything else. Rossi can handle the first scene by himself. Everyone else, stay as assigned.”

“Hotch, are you sure about that? I might be able to…” On what was probably going to be an offer of how he can assist at the original scene, Morgan falters. Of course he does. There’s nothing to be done when the bomb’s already gone off.

“I’m sure. There are people out there, and they deserve to be saved.”

———

When the plane hits the tarmac, his team is ready. It’s like watching a well-oiled machine, the way they pair off and head off to their assigned zones. The only pause is between Aaron and Rossi, when he grabs his friend’s arm on the way off the plane. “Dave…”

“I’ll tell you if she’s there,” Rossi promises, and then he’s gone in a black SUV while Hotch climbs into one with Morgan and heads to the Village bombsite.

“So, search and rescue,” Morgan says, raising his voice to speak over the sirens that Hotch has turned on. “Are we heading in, or assisting from the sidelines?”

“According to Garcia, the ambulances aren’t able to make it out to the grocery store. There’s too much rubble blocking the roads that aren’t under construction, and it’s New York traffic in addition to the media outlets swarming the place.” Hotch lets out a concentrated breath. “It’s going to be all hands on deck. Look for survivors, get them to an ambulance.”

“Got it.” The second Hotch throws the car into park, Morgan is sliding out of his seat and onto the sidewalk. Both men make their way through the media storm, past the ambulances that managed to park closer than they did, and into the store.

Search and rescue is there already, along with the SWAT team. They’re moving debris, lifting fallen shelves, and occasionally carrying people out to the ambulances waiting for them.

Hotch sets into motion instantly. He breaks off for the frozen food aisle where he doesn’t see anyone searching. “Is anyone over here?” He calls out, but there’s no answer.

The bomb must have come from across the store; there’s less debris here, but the shelves are twisted and collapsed all the same. Shattered glass from the freezer doors covers the ground, and he tries to avoid it as best he can as he walks down what once was an aisle.

He steps around stray items- a warped metal freezer door frame, a pile of frozen pizza boxes, pints of melting ice cream- while keeping his eyes trained for any sign of another person anywhere.

When he finally does see something, it makes his adrenaline spike. It’s a leg, poking out from under a freezer shelf. If he has to venture a guess, he’d say that someone is pinned under the bent freezer frame, but whether they’re merely unconscious or dead remains to be determined.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Hotch raises his voice a little and gets closer to the figure. He can see the leg a bit more clearly now, and a hand poking out from under the side of the freezer. The fingers twitch slightly. Thank god.

The sweatpants the person is wearing look vaguely familiar, and Hotch can’t place them until he sees the image of Nemo on them, and it clicks. As soon as he realizes, his stomach drops. His hands go clammy, the blood rushes from his face, and it’s all he can do to stay on his feet.

When the dizziness hits him, he wants to throw something and scream and maybe sink down onto the floor and cry, but he can’t. 

He can’t, because he remembers when Penelope made sweatpants out of quilts for everyone on the team four Christmases ago. He can’t, because she’d had more than enough Disney quilt for two pairs, and had given you and him matching pants.

He can’t, because he recognizes those pants because they’re in his closet at home, but the only other person who owns a pair like this, obviously handmade, from a quilt covered in Disney characters, is…

It’s you.

Aaron can’t help himself, couldn’t stop it if he wanted to; he turns his head, bends over, and throws up on the grocery store floor, on layers of glass and rubble and thawed boxes of Pizza Pops. Right there, staring at your leg and hand, Aaron almost breaks.

But where Aaron has chinks in his armour, Hotch has none. Hotch is the one who takes a deep breath and wipes his mouth and straightens up, the one who uses every bit of strength to lift a warped freezer shelf up and reveal you, with a mangled wrist but looking generally otherwise unharmed.

You look terrified.

Not that Hotch can blame you, of course.

“It’s alright. You’ll be okay,” he says, and he doesn’t know if it’s Hotch or Aaron talking, because he sounds calm but he has no idea what happened or how hurt you are. “Were your neck or back hurt? You need to answer me.”

You’re looking up at him, gaze half-lidded, and he doesn’t know if he should be scared or relieved when you shake your head and croak out, “They’re fine.”

He knows it’s risky, knows he should call for Morgan or a member of SWAT or anyone with a gurney to transport you safely. But you’re in front of him, dazed, grimy and half-conscious with your wrist bent at an angle, and all he can do is pick you up and hold you close to him. “Hold on,” he instructs, and he feels your arm wrap around his neck.

“Aaron…” you whisper, and he strains to hear you as he makes his way towards the doors with you in his arms. No words follow, though, and he looks down to see you crying against him, silent with tears slicing through the coat of dust on your face. Your arm starts to slip, and he squeezes you a little.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” he promises, “But you need to stay with me. You’ve probably got a concussion, so don’t close your eyes. Hold onto me, tight. I’ve got you.”

When your grasp tightens again, he resumes moving towards the exit. The first breath of fresh air must invigorate you, because he feels you tighten your grip even more. “Aaron,” you repeat, less feeble than before, but he doesn’t want you wasting an ounce of energy.

“I know, but it’s going to be alright,” he shushes you as gently as he can until you arrive at the ambulance, and he passes you off to two paramedics who slide you onto a gurney.

He tries to step back but your hand shoots out and grips his dirtied suit with more strength than he thought you had. “Will you visit? At the hospital?”

The correct answer is no. No, there’s a case to work. No, you’ll be fine. No, we broke up and that’s weird. “We all will,” he promises instead without a hint of regret. “Just let them take care of you, and we’ll be by when we can.”

Relief shines in your eyes, and it’s the last thing he notes before your grip loosens on him and you’re wheeled up into the ambulance.

A minute or so passes before Aaron senses someone behind him and turns to see Derek, who’s watching the road the ambulance disappeared down. “She’s gonna be okay,” he says to Aaron, offering him a nod of support. 

Hotch doesn’t know who he’s trying to reassure.

— — —

They reconvene at the station a few hours later, and Aaron sits mostly silent while his team discusses victimology, motives, and the chemical makeup of each bomb. He tries to contribute once or twice, but he falls quiet every time he recalls the way you’d looked up at him. 

There had been fear in your eyes, of course. You’d been in a bombing, and he knows how natural fear is after traumatic events. But there had been recognition there too, a solemn kind. He wonders to himself if you wish anyone other than him had found you and brought you to safety, or if he’s worrying about nothing.

You’re safe now, and that’s what’s important. Even if you recover and stay in New York and Aaron never sees you again, at least you’re safe.

Who is he kidding? He can’t go along with never seeing you again, safety be damned. And yet…. He clenches a fist, ignoring Morgan and Reid’s discussion about chemical compounds. And yet, you’d been so close to dead. An aisle or a footstep away, and you could have been ripped away forever.

It makes him sick to think about.

He’s thinking so hard about it that he’s got no idea how long he’s had his gaze fixed on the table before JJ’s sharp “Hotch!” breaks through and gets his attention.

He clears his throat, embarrassed to be caught off guard. “I’m sorry. I was… elsewhere.”

“Did you hear what Emily said?” She asks, and he shakes his head. When he makes eye contact, JJ’s features soften. “You should go see her.”

“No. No, that’s unnecessary. We have a case to work,” he says, and Morgan scoffs at that. “We need to work it like any other case.”

“Any other case? Hotch, you carried her to the ambulance! It’s first aid 101. She could have had a broken spine, and you threw protocol out the window,” Morgan says, staring his boss down. “This isn’t any other case. You guys were in love, man. Go see her.”

Hotch sighs, wishes that the floor could open up and swallow him. Of course he wants to see you, buthe needs to catch the person who did this, first. “It’s not my priority. There are people dying, and we need to stay focused on that. I told her that we would all come visit her after the case is closed.”

“We are focused,” Emily points out. “You aren’t. You’re not helping anyone like this. Just go talk to her, see how she’s doing.” When Aaron opens his mouth to protest again, she cuts him off. “I’m not saying you should live at her bedside or propose to her, but just go say hi. It’s going to help both of you.”

When he looks to his right, Rossi has one eyebrow up. “You know you aren’t winning this one, right?” he asks, and Hotch sighs again. “Bring the girl some flowers, too.”

Aaron closes his file and stands up. “I’m not bringing her flowers,” he mutters. “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. If anything else happens, keep me updated.”

——

When he gets to the hospital, flowers in hand, Aaron finds your room almost immediately. He knocks twice on the door, is greeted with a soft, “Come in.”

“Hi,” he says gently, leaving the door open. He watches, waits while you do a double-take like you can’t trust your own vision when Aaron Hotchner is standing at the door.

“You came,” is your response, and he can’t decide if your voice is coloured by exhaustion or disbelief. Maybe it’s both, but he doesn’t like the idea of not being seen as dependable to you, even now.

Encouraged slightly, Aaron takes a further step into the room. Maybe you do want him here, and you weren’t delirious when you asked him to visit. “You asked me to; of course I came. How do you feel?”

While he waits for an answer, he observes you. You’re in a fresh pair of clothes, and before he can enquire about it you’re speaking.

“I’ve been better.” You hold up one arm in a cast. “But I’ve just got this and a concussion, so it could be worse. Remember that case in Kansas where I broke my leg? That was way worse.”

Aaron shakes his head, wanting to scold you for speaking so lightly of an event that had very genuinely terrified him, but he stops himself. It’s not his place. In lieu of conversation, he raises the vase of flowers slightly.

“I, uh, brought you these.”

In the two long years that you’ve been gone, Aaron has never stopped reading human behaviour. More than anything, he has experience with your body language, and he looks over you with a familiar eye.

He sees the tension in your shoulders, your eyes narrowing slightly in the direction of the arrangement, and he knows that you’re remembering the last time he brought you flowers. “Thank you,” you say after a pause that’s almost too long. “What kind are they?”

“They’re Gladioli,” he says, and the words are fully out of his mouth before he remembers that he should have lied.

When you were dating, he had always brought you flowers. On your birthday, when you solved a case, when you just felt down; Aaron was there with a bouquet, one that always meant something. Celebration, or supportive love, or some other flower language message that he knew you would understand even when he couldn’t say it out loud.

He’s pretty sure that by the time you broke up, you had memorized the whole flower dictionary. But it’s possible, he hopes, that you never came across the Gladiolus flower. Hope. Love. Remembrance.

Why he bought them, he can’t say for sure. Maybe old habits die hard. Maybe he wants to know what you’d do if you recognized the flowers.

When you finally speak, it’s with an indecipherable voice. He’s got no idea whether or not you know what these flowers mean. “They’re beautiful. Can you just put them there?” You point one finger at the windowsill, and he follows your directions to place the vase down.

“Of course.” He sets the flowers down in a beam of sunlight, adjusts them this way and that until he’s satisfied. Once he stops moving, a heavy silence falls over the room.

What is there for you to discuss?

He’s racking his brain looking for something, anything, to talk about, until you speak bluntly.

“What do you know about the bomb?”

“What?” He hadn’t even considered that you might want to talk about the case. You’re a former agent of his unit, so ethically, it’s fine to discuss this with you. Still, he’s concerned about the trauma to your body and mind. Before he can speak again, or protest, you’re already talking.

“The bomb,” you repeat. “Do we know who it was placed by? Is it connected to any other bombs? What was it made with?”

This is familiar. This is okay. This is something Hotch knows how to talk about, even when you’re laid up in a hospital bed and he’s only talked to you a handful of times since you broke up two years ago.

At least it’s not awkward anymore. He can read it in the way you sink back into the bed, and how his own shoulders release a bundle of tension that’s been there since he initially heard that there was a bombing in New York this morning.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” he admits. “It was made with the same chemical compound as the one that blew up The Vessel this morning. It was a homemade compound, nothing that could have been acquired naturally without extensive knowledge of bombs.”

“The Vessel? That’s a tourist attraction.” You sit up, but Hotch shakes his head.

“A closed one,” he corrects. “People just go there to take pictures outside the structure, now. That’s why there’s such a low body count.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not just closed. The Vessel is the attraction that closed after a string of suicides,” you say, and Hotch’s head snaps up in attention. “It was a big thing on the news. Have you looked into anyone related to any of those suicides?”

“No, we haven’t.” He’s already fumbling for his phone. “I’m going back to the station. Just… keep us updated on your condition, okay? We would all like to know how you’re doing.”

“Absolutely not.” Hotch can’t decide if he’s more annoyed, impressed, or concerned when you stand up. “I’m coming with you.”

“You aren’t a part of the BAU anymore,” he reminds you. “You made that choice.” 

“Yeah, well, there weren’t any lives at stake. He went after a grocery store, Aaron! What’s next, the Empire State Building? Times Square?” You grab your bag of possessions collected from the bombing and rustle through for your purse. “Did you drive here?”

“You can’t come with me. You’re in the hospital for a reason.”

“For a concussion! People are dead.” You stride towards the door, holding your purse and jacket in the hand that doesn’t have a cast around the wrist. “Can you bring the Gladioli, please?”

Is he caught? Do you want to bring them because you know what they mean, or just because they’re nice flowers? With a sigh, Aaron picks them up and pulls his car keys out, knowing that you’ve won this one. “We aren’t putting your name on any reports,” he warns, taking your jacket and bag of possessions in his other hand. “Strauss would kill us both if she thinks I’m borrowing agents from other units.”

“I don’t need credit. But we need to find this guy, before he hurts anyone else.”

———

When Aaron gets back to the station, he thinks that his agents probably expected him to come back with something like Thai food, or information about a new bombing.

They likely weren’t expecting him to bring you with him. Or maybe they were, because the response of greeting waves and murmured ‘hello’s are less surprised than he had expected. 

“How are you feeling?” Prentiss asks casually, but Hotch can see the flicker of panic in her eyes when she glances at your cast.

“I’ve been worse. Listen, Aaron told me about The Vessel…” you start talking to the team as Hotch calls Garcia to loop her in, and suddenly everything feels more normal than it has in two years.

When you’ve finished filling the team in, Hotch starts to speak. “Garcia, we’re going to need history on the deaths that occurred there before it was closed down. Rossi and Prentiss, go through medical reports. Reid, I want you going through any written notes or other evidence found with the bodies.”

While he talks, he notices you slipping out of the room out of the corner of his eye. Morgan grabs his phone and calls Garcia, trying to help her comb through articles for a list of suicides that occurred at The Vessel.

Hotch sits down with Reid, paging through suicide notes and crime scene photos sent by Garcia until he feels like his head is spinning. 

That’s right around when you come back, your presence subtly announced with a cup of tea placed in front of Hotch and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder as you pass.

When he brings the cup to his lips, he smiles. It’s English Breakfast tea with a dash of sugar in it; his beverage of choice when it’s too late in the day for coffee. “Thank you,” he says, and you just give him a grin before going to assist Rossi and Prentiss.

After a few minutes of idle work and murmured discussion, Derek shushes everyone and puts his phone on speaker. “Okay, baby girl, tell us something good.”

“None of that, crime fighters. After a truly depressing deep dive through news articles, I’ve got 37 names belonging to people who… you know, died at The Vessel.”

“That’s not workable,” JJ remarks, “We need to narrow it down.”

“We said he has a protective, low body count style. Could be the family member of a suicide victim. One who doesn’t have the guts to cause the maximum amount of carnage,” Rossi suggests.

“That’s good,” Hotch hears himself say, like he’s hearing it from a distance. “A parent would show aggression. Garcia, look for suicide victims with surviving siblings in the area. Focus on the ones with older siblings.”

The click-clack of her keys is the only audible sound before she reports, “16 left. Still too many names.”

“Do any of them work in auto mechanics, or in proximity to cars?” Reid asks. “There’s a specific compound in the bomb that’s almost impossible to come by unless you have access to garage-grade chemicals or a specialized lab, and the lab is unlikely for him.”

“Two names. Anything else?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch sees you perk up. “Did any of the victims work at that grocery store?”

“Uhh…. One! He wasn’t on our list of two, but his name was Jackson Moyer.”

“Wait, I’ve got something here.” Reid sorts through papers- suicide notes and similar images sent from Garcia, and Hotch doesn’t know when he had time to get them printed out- until he pulls out a sheet of paper. “Jackson Moyer. It says in the note that his girlfriend broke up with him on the same day he got fired.”

Emily leans over to look at the note. “It’s dated nine months ago.”

Nine months. “She was pregnant,” Hotch blurts out, and a heavy silence falls over the group.

Moments later, Garcia gives the confirmation. “Nora Carr, Jackson’s girlfriend, had the baby…. Three days ago, but she gave it up for adoption,” she reports. 

“Right before the bombings started.” Rossi’s observation sits heavy for a second until you speak again.

“Back to the victim. Does he have a surviving family member matching the description?” You hold the end of a pen in your mouth, worrying it between your lips while you look at your files. “A sibling or close cousin, maybe.”

There’s a moment of typing before Garcia says, “Bingo. His older brother, Jeremy. It looks like they were really close growing up; same sports teams, friend group, classes, you name it. He doesn’t work at any kind of auto shop, though. He works in retail.”

“He felt betrayed when his brother killed himself,” Hotch starts.

He’s caught off guard when you continue his train of thought for the first time in two years. The ease with which you take over his idea is one that he’s missed; sometimes, when he’s having difficulty going somewhere with a profile, he misses working with you. It’s like you hold the other piece of the puzzle.

But now, even if just temporarily, you’re here and you’re fitting the puzzle piece into place

“And he saw giving away Jackson’s child as the ultimate betrayal. Does he have a boyfriend or girlfriend with access to the chemicals used?” You ask.

“Yep. Her name is Erica Harmon and she’s a grad student at Columbia. She’s a TA in a load of undergrad chem classes, too.”

“He’s got access to the chemicals through her,” JJ says, frowning at her list of materials found in the bombs. “Almost all of this is lab-grade, and the rest of it wouldn’t be hard to find at a supermarket.”

“And he’s probably going after Jackson’s ex-girlfriend next,” Morgan says, already grabbing his gun as the rest of the group stands up.

Prentiss looks at her boss. “Where do you want us?”

“You and Reid, head to Jeremy’s house. Rossi, Morgan, JJ, I want you at the ex-girlfriend’s apartment.”

“Where am I going?” You ask, using one hand on the table to steady yourself when you stand up and wobble slightly. “I need a gun.”

“No, you don’t. You need to stay here, and I’ll stay with you.” Aaron sits back down, pulls you into your own chair with both hands on yours while he ignores the team’s stares.

“Hotch, are you sure?” Morgan asks, but Aaron doesn’t even look over. 

“Go.”

He hears the sounds of rustling to his side, his team leaving as fast as they can while Garcia says something about sending them the addresses, but he can hardly focus. “Are you okay?”

“A little…” You bring a hand to the centre of your forehead. “A little dizzy, that’s all. Are they going to be okay?”

“They’ll be just fine. We profiled that he targets the buildings themselves, not the people in them. He won’t be able to take a hostage successfully.” Aaron promises. 

He hopes he’s right.

He hopes he hasn’t lied to you yet again, especially when you give him a hopeful smile.

“I missed this,” you say, so casually that his heartbeat falters before you continue to speak, giving him clarification that he doesn’t want. “Working with everyone, being on cases. Biometrics isn’t nearly as interesting.”

The confession cracks his face into something resembling a smile. “Never a dull moment here,” he agrees before the two of you fall into a silence that he can’t decipher.

Should he have said something else? We missed working with you, or I missed having you around, or Biometrics is practically an entry-level unit. Maybe even, Are you thinking of rejoining the team?

He still doesn’t know why he lied to you on the day of the breakup, why the words ‘it’s not reversible’ had ever left his lips. You could have come back to the BAU at any time, Strauss be damned. Of course, it would be his head on the chopping block, but still. You deserved to know.

He doesn’t say anything.

“How’s Beth?” You blurt out, and he wonders how long you’ve been holding onto that question before you asked it.

He wishes you hadn’t asked. He has a moment of panic, gives you a reaction he already hates himself for before he does it. Instead of answering, he stands up and picks up his now-empty mug of tea. “I’m going to get another. Do you need anything? Some water?” He suggests, brushing the back of his hand on your forehead the way he does when Jack is sick.

The look in your eyes is unreadable when you slump down into your seat further, staring at the table. “I’m okay,” you mumble, and Aaron hates himself even more for the familiar way he caresses your hair before he walks off.

His return a few minutes later finds you curled up in one of the large office chairs, your head leaned back while you speak into your cell phone. “… not sure when I’ll be back,” you’re saying, and you glance up when he enters the room. “I’ll call you back later, okay?” 

You hang up and tuck the phone under your leg before you look up at him. You don’t say anything. 

He doesn’t say anything.

You don’t say anything.

“I brought you tea,” he blurts out. 

Aaron Hotchner, ex-prosecutor, Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, well-known in more than one elite circle for his nuanced understanding of the human mind and what makes it tick. That’s him.

Or maybe it’s not, because after two seconds of awkward silence he’s offering you the mug of tea he made for himself.

“I thought you went to get yourself one,” you say, but a barely-trembling hand reaches forward to accept the mug nonetheless. Thank god he’d grabbed a clean one.

“You need it more. How’s your arm doing?” He asks, and you shrug.

“It’s been better, but it’s been worse. Hurts less when I don’t think about it.”

Aaron has always prided himself on giving you what you need. If you’re telling him that you don’t want to think about it, he can work with that. He can distract you. “Who were you on the phone with?”

It’s excruciating, the length of time that he sits in silence before you answer. It feels like he’s waiting for a signed murder confession. He sits there and waits for what feels like days, weeks, maybe a month or two to hear you say, “My friend.”

“Garcia said you were visiting a friend. That’s why you bought the onesie, isn’t it?” He guesses, remembering that awkward run-in with Beth and Ella at the museum gift shop.

He can’t believe he brought it up. Can you see the shame for it on his face, or the tips of his ears red with embarrassment?

It had been a great day. He had had a rare day off, and he and Beth had taken the kids to the park. They’d gone out for ice cream afterwards, and finally for a tour of Jack’s favourite museum that ended with the museum gift shop. It’s almost a perfect memory, a day that he would fit into a snow globe to preserve if he could.

He knows that if he did that, somehow preserved the day in a sphere full of glycol, he would just remember the look on your face in that gift shop. He still can’t put a name to the emotion other than ‘torn’.

Aaron Hotchner; the master of understanding every human mind except yours. 

“She just had a baby,” you respond, and he blinks twice before he remembers that you aren’t in the gift shop anymore and that he asked you a question. 

You’re here in front of him now with a broken wrist and a concussion and you finally seem to be opening up to him, and he doesn’t want to risk missing it by staying in his own head.

“Boy or girl?” He asks while you sip the tea. It's an English Breakfast with nothing but a bit of sugar, but you don’t seem to mind.

“He’s a boy. His name is Tristan and he’s cute, too. Do you want to see a picture?” You’re already eagerly reaching for your phone, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you now whether he wants to see the pictures or not.

When you show him the screen, a part of him wishes he had stopped you.

The baby is tiny. Tristan is swaddled in a blanket, the top half of his head poking out just for tiny eyes to squint at the camera. Aaron can see the top of a scrunched nose, maybe the beginning of a cry or a yawn. He examines the details, the obviously-plush blanket with grey-blue floral detailing.

Aaron does his best to fixate his attention on Tristan and ignore the fact that the photo is of you holding the baby, looking almost maternal and definitely happy and…

He looks away.

He can’t help it; he hardly stops himself to consider whether it’s rude of him to actively dodge the photo. Instead, he clears his throat. “Very cute,” he agrees, “You’re right about that.”

“Yeah. He was born a little premature, so I thought I’d take some time off of work, come up and help her out for a little while.” You look down at your cast and let out half a scornful laugh. “Some help I am. I don’t even think I could hold him now.”

“I’m sure you’ve been plenty helpful,” he assures you without a thought. After all, for years you had as much of a hand in raising Jack as Aaron did. “It just might have been cut short a little.”

“Yeah, a little. I’m probably going to have to head home after this. It doesn’t make sense to stay when I can’t do anything.” You look glum at the prospect, and without a thought Aaron reaches a foot out to bump against the roller wheels of your chair. It’s a gentle tap, one that just serves to get your attention.

“Talk to your friend,” he advises. “Maybe you can still cook, or help her clean up around the house. There’s no need to cut your time off short just because you can’t hold a baby.”

Your head tilts just a bit, and your eyes narrow as though you’re looking at an equation in the air that Aaron can’t see, let alone guess the factors of. He hopes you can solve it, whatever it is. “Maybe,�� you say, and that’s when he hears the conference room door open.

“Hey, double trouble.” Morgan has a trademark grin from ear to ear as he sits down at the table, and Hotch swivels in his seat to face the team as they file into the room.

How did it appear to them? Him close to your chair, you tucked into it with one leg under you and the other hanging off the side. Did it seem uncomfortable, like you didn’t want to be there? He wishes he could have taken a picture of the two of you, somehow, something he could study and examine and hope to understand.

You’ve been alone in a room for… well, he’s lost track of time, but it’s been a while and he still can’t tell if you’re comfortable or not. He’s got no clue until you pipe up and wheel your chair closer to the table.

“Dibs on being ‘double’. You can be ‘trouble’.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, and Hotch does his best not to smile. There’s no use in encouraging you, after all. Still, he can feel some of the tension drain from his shoulders at the light tone; you’re happy to be here, happy to work on this case and to talk to him.

“Actually, you can’t assign nicknames based off of a group nickname when the name itself is a play on how many members there are,” Reid corrects as he sits down with his case file in hand. “You can only do that if each nickname is a separate title.”

Morgan groans out loud at that and reaches over to swat Reid’s arm. “C’mon, man, you’re taking all the fun out of it,” he complains, leaving Reid with a mildly perplexed look on his face.

“We can try again,” Prentiss offers, slipping out of her bulletproof vest. “Hey, sugar and spice.”

Aaron can feel your reaction before you can even open your mouth, and he beats you to it by a half second by warning, “Don’t say that I’m spice.”

The look on your face tells him that that’s exactly what you meant to say. He pushes away thoughts of Look how well I know you in favour of We’re at work.

“How did takedown go?” He asks. The debrief usually happens on the jet, but it feels wrong to discuss the case without you now. Debriefing is an essential part of each case for everyone who works on it, and he does his best to make sure that each member of his team- past or present- can leave each city with a sense of closure.

If anyone needs closure on this case, it’s the woman wearing a cast who hasn’t had to face the horrors of the BAU in two years.

And maybe Aaron, because it’s just as important to him that you feel okay after the events of the last day. Maybe you need to know that the unsub is behind bars, but Aaron needs to know that you know.

Dave, who has been smirking ever since he saw Hotch quickly wheel his chair away from yours upon the team's arrival, speaks first. “Nice and easy. We caught him while he was assembling a bomb in the apartment complex's boiler room. Taking a hostage never crossed his mind.”

“He didn’t even go to Nora’s apartment. She had no idea what we were talking about when we tried to interview her,” JJ says. She hasn’t sat down yet, and is already working to gather up the metric ton of paper covering the conference room table.

Maybe Hotch should have thought to do that.

“Good. And Erica, the girlfriend?”

“She had no idea about any of it. Morgan found a copy of her keys on the unsub’s keyring, and her best guess was that he copied them right out of her purse.” Prentiss passes JJ a stack of papers and sighs. “I feel bad for that girl. She had no idea what was happening right under her nose.”

“She had no way of knowing that her boyfriend would be pushed over the edge like he was. She’s gonna need help after this, for sure,” Morgan says thoughtfully, and the group mumbles out a collective agreement.

“Either way, mi bellos,” Rossi stands up to clasp his hands together, “The case is closed and we’ve got someone in cuffs. All’s well that ends… well, you know.”

It catches Hotch off guard when his stomach pangs at the thought of leaving. Boarding the jet and heading home. Leaving New York, leaving Jackson and Jeremy and their girlfriends in the past, leaving you to deal with the aftereffects of being injured on your own.

He can’t stop himself from speaking, even if just to re-think his words before they become law. “We can stay the night.”

There’s no subtlety to the rise of Morgan’s eyebrows, or the glance that Prentiss and JJ exchange. But there’s nothing he can do about it now. The words are out there. It’s already done.

“Why would we do that?” Reid asks, always one to voice the question no one wants to vocalize. Hotch has always loved his curious mind and his need to understand every aspect of something.

Even if he kind of wants to throttle the kid right now, because how the hell is he supposed to answer that?

“Because you all did some good work today,” he answers after a painfully long minute, “and deserve a night off. We can all go out for dinner and be on the jet early in the morning.”

That answer seems to satisfy the room, and Aaron ignores the look Rossi is giving him as he glances over at you and drops his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you promise. “Do you, you know, maybe have an extra seat at that table?” You look nervous; he can read that clear as day. The idea that this could put you on edge almost makes a laugh bubble up in his stomach but he shoves it down in favour of a smile.

“I’m sure we can pull one up,” he assures you in a murmur. “We’d love to see you a bit more before we leave.”

“Oh.” You sound almost surprised, and he’s glad that he thought to hide behind the royal ‘we’. “Okay. Can I ride there with one of you?”

“Of course.” Aaron stands up and pulls your chair away from the table so you’ve got room to stand. Unnecessary chivalry; he has to remind himself to cut it out. “We can take a taxi.”

—

That’s how, fifteen minutes later, he finds himself in the passenger seat of a cab with you, JJ, and Garcia squished together in the backseat.

He wonders what you’re talking about back there behind the partition in low whispers, the occasional giggle, and one or two sharp “Shh”’s. The taxi stops too soon for him to find out, and your little group finds the rest of the team at a table already.

You slide into a seat and Hotch unconsciously moves to take the seat farthest from you- a habit he’s built in the last two years- only to find Morgan already sitting in it. “Sorry, Hotch. You snooze, you lose,” he defends with a wide smile.

By the time he turns to see what other seats are free, the only one left is right next to you. “Aaron, over here,” you say, and with all eyes on him there’s nothing to do but come around the table and sink into the stiff chair.

The waitress comes by to take drink orders a minute later, and Hotch orders himself a water. He’s here on official business, and he refuses to get drunk. It’s what his father did, and that always ended up in violence or big scenes made in public. Hotch does everything he can to avoid that side of himself, especially when he’s representing the government.

“What kind of wines do you have?” He hears you ask, and he turns his head to see the waitress produce a menu from what must have been thin air.

“She can’t drink,” he says loudly, putting out a hand like he can stop the menu from making its way to you. “She has a concussion.”

Speaking around you, to you, for you, is a dance, as Aaron is slowly learning.

You frown, and he hopes he hasn’t overstepped. You don’t say anything, and he holds his breath. You finally look up at the waitress and order a water, and he sighs in relief.

“Thanks, it slipped my mind,” you murmur once she’s walked away, and he gives you a tight smile before getting dragged into an argument between Morgan and Reid.

Dinner, for the most part, passes in a blur of quiet conversation and polite laughter. It isn’t until everyone is eating dessert, half the team feeling the effects of the wines they’ve been indulging in, that everything goes to hell.

He really shouldn’t be so surprised. The evening has gone without a hitch so far- Aaron’s left arm occasionally bumping your right when you try to eat at the same time has really been the only obstacle- so he figures that you’re about due for something to go wrong. Some event to stir up the peaceful bubble he’s stumbled across.

It happens, as many things do, in the form of Emily Prentiss opening her mouth. She leans over you to speak to Aaron, and it’s like he’s watching the train crash in slow motion when she says to him, “So, how’s the single life?”

He can feel the way you stiffen up next to him, white knuckles on your fork, peering out of the corner of your eye. Do you want to hear the answer? “Prentiss, please. That’s hardly appropriate.” His voice is being held together like it’s wrapped in duct tape, but it comes out steady enough.

Emily sighs at the scolding. “I just wanted to know,” she grumbles, pushing a piece of cheesecake around on her plate. “You and Beth broke up a week ago; I’m just curious.”

“Good question,” JJ says. “Have you talked to her since? Wait, is that why she wasn’t at the wedding?”

“You told us she was sick, but statistically this is the least likely time of year for someone to experience cold or flu related symptoms.” Spencer frowns down at his rootbeer. “Did you lie? You could have told us that you broke up. We could have helped.”

“Same way I got over the second Mrs. Rossi,” Dave jokes, lifting his glass in a salute. “I don’t think I left the strip club for a month.”

“Please,” Aaron repeats, raising his voice slightly. “This isn’t appropriate.” He directs it primarily to Emily, who started this whole thing, and he notices the shell-shocked look on your face out of the corner of his eye.

“I just wanted to know,” Emily repeats, as petulant as a stubborn child.

She wanted you to know, more likely. Aaron has been careful about not talking about his relationship- Emily only knows because he developed a case of drunkenly loose lips the night of the wedding and overshared to her wife, Katie- and now you know the one thing he didn’t want to become widespread. There’s no way that wasn’t intentional.

“I should…” You push your chair back with a ‘screech’ and stand up, hurrying out of the restaurant in the direction of the lobby without further excuse.

Hotch watches you go, lets out a groaned “God.” while he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need to- I’ll be back.” He tosses down his napkin and takes off in the direction you exited.

“Now, that wasn’t too nice,” Derek points out, and Emily shrugs.

“I didn’t like the tension. At least now they’ll talk.”

Meanwhile, Aaron finds himself rounding the large fountain display in the lobby to talk to you. “Are you leaving?”

When you look up, there’s vague surprise on your face. Did you think he wouldn’t follow you? If there’s one thing Aaron knows about himself by now, it’s that he would follow you to hell and back.

“I think I should. I think that would be best.” Instead of looking at him, you fiddle with your keys and look everywhere else. The chandelier, fountain, reception desk; everywhere except at Aaron himself.

“Just… just hold on, a couple of minutes. I didn’t mean to upset you, by not saying something. I thought it would be… easier.”

That gets a reaction. Your eyes snap to his, and he can see something like hurt swimming in them. “Easier?”

“Yes. You didn’t have anything to do with it; why should I have to tell you?” He challenges, even though it’s half a lie. You weren’t faultless in the breakup, but he’s not going to be sharing that fact.

“You don’t think I would want to know?” You take a small step towards him. “Even just so I could be there for you?”

“That’s not a good idea,” he counters. “I have friends I can speak to about breakups.” He regrets his words the second that he sees the pain in your eyes. Oh, because you’re supposed to be friends now. That’s right; his last breakup was with you.

Three feet away, perched on the edge of the fountain, an older woman is watching the two of you intensely. She’s obviously listening, and that’s something that Aaron doesn’t want to deal with. “Look,” he says, his voice low and quiet, “Will you come up to my room? We can talk there, but I’m not doing this in public.”

The conflicting emotions on your face seem to be going to war until you take a deep breath and take Aaron’s hand, your fingers wrapping around his as you board the elevator.

He hopes you don’t notice David Rossi standing near the elevators. He hopes you don’t notice the thumbs up that the older man gives him, or the middle finger he gives in return.

The elevator ride is silent and long, almost excruciatingly so, and he’s half relieved once you get into the hotel room and take a seat on separate beds facing each other. His suitcase is against the wall, zipped up, and the desk is covered in various writings and readings that he doesn’t even know when Spencer had time to unpack.

You break the silence first, your face expressionless like it’s an interrogation. It feels like he’s on the wrong side of the interrogation table for once when you speak. “You and Beth broke up.”

“We did,” he agrees, and that’s when he wonders if he made a mistake bringing you up here. He doesn’t want you to hear the whole story; why not just confirm the breakup in the lobby and send you on your way?

Well, he couldn’t have done that, and he knows why. It’s still a half-decent alternative to this, though.

“Why?”

“Why… did we break up?” He clarifies, and you nod. “We wanted different things.”

Finally, emotion crosses your face; a flicker of anger. He doesn’t blame you, especially when he remembers the sacrifice you made. “Different things? So, she didn’t want more kids? Or was it work-related?”

He isn’t going to get through this without telling you the whole story; he can see that now. As hard as it is, he knows you aren’t letting this rest until you get a comprehensive answer.

“She had a pregnancy scare.”

Your sudden bark of laughter is hardly a surprise, but it makes him wince all the same. “You broke up because you don’t want to have another kid? Are you serious?”

He tries to answer. Instead, memory hits him like a brick wall, wraps its arms around him and drags him down into it.

“Aaron? Honey, where are you?” Beth’s cheery voice entered the room before she did, and Aaron looked up at her with a smile.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?” He asked. He hated this domestic part, the part where he had to pretend to be just as in love as she was.

But love grows, he knew. Just as flowers could blossom from cracks in the pavement, love could develop with time and affection. It wouldn’t be fair to her, to not return the open affection she gave him.

He always wondered why it never felt easy or effortless, why he often felt like he was just a young boy playing at being in a relationship, instead of an adult who was actually in one.

“My day was good,” she said, a barely-contained smile on her face. “So, you know how I’ve been under the weather lately?”

That was an understatement. She’d thrown up more than once in the last couple of days. Love or not, Aaron cared enough that he was on the verge of taking her to the emergency room himself. “Of course. Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really. But my period was late yesterday, so I thought, why not?” Why not, what? She wasn’t making any sense, and it wasn’t until Aaron saw the little stick in her hand that the pieces flew together for him, like a puzzle begging to be solved. “And, well…” 

He stared down at tanned hands presenting him the stick, two tiny lines deciding his future for him. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant,” she confirmed, throwing her arms around his neck. He slowly brought both arms up to hug her- a facade of excitement, even though his face would certainly betray him if she were to look at it. “Isn’t that great?”

“That’s… wow.” It was as honest of an answer as he could give. “Are you going to see a doctor to make sure?”

“Of course I am.” She pulled away just enough to kiss him, but he broke away soon enough. “Aaron? This is great, isn’t it? Aren’t you excited?” There was an edge in her voice, one that told him that his face- expressions of shock, uncertainty, certainly no joy- was giving him away.

He couldn’t dodge the direct question, the look in her eye. She already knew the answer before she asked the question, and they both knew that this was his chance for redemption.

He didn’t take it.

A week later, the doctor confirmed the false positive. Aaron couldn’t have brought himself to be upset if he tried. 

The same afternoon, Beth packed up hers and Ella’s things, and they were gone.

He wanted to feel sad. He wanted to feel heartbroken. He wanted to punish himself, for knowing that he had missed out on the closest chance he had had to a real family in years. 

It was the reason you left; your sacrifice, the heartache you’d both been left with, everything you’d both gone through was deemed useless in the deciding moment. It was his one chance, and he hadn’t taken it.

He just felt numb.

“Aaron.” Your voice, pitched sharp, manages to pull him out of his trance. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t know why you’re asking. He wants to know if you’re okay. He wants to apologize, to fall to his knees and hold onto you the way he should have two years ago.

“I’m fine.”

“So, Beth had a pregnancy scare,” you prompt. “And that’s why you broke up?”

He hesitates. “Yes.”

He hesitated too long. 

“Why?” You ask.

He knows that you’re only pushing it because you know him.

You know him better than anyone; you know that he doesn’t walk away from things that he wants, not when he has a choice.

And wasn’t that what he wanted? Didn’t he want Beth, more children, a family of his own?

“Don’t do this.” It’s a plea, and it goes unanswered.

“Why did you break up? Aaron… come on.” The desperation in your voice kisses his ears. It reminds him that you’ve been hurt at least as badly as he’s been. It tells him that you aren’t there as a concerned friend; you’re there as someone who deserves the answer to the question you asked. Someone who’s a part of the twisted equation, who fits into the formula of the last two years. Someone who’s been hurt by him, for him, only for him to throw that sacrifice away.

He replies by just saying your name, the name he’s spoken so many times. He’s said it before with love, playful annoyance and affection. After the breakup he said it less often, and it was often delivered with spite or tears of proportions that he didn’t know he would, or could, shed.

This time, when he says your name, he thinks he sounds… broken. His voice cracks, his face flushes, and he looks down at his feet. He’s still got his dress shoes on, and he counts the eyelets- 3, 4, 5 pairs of them, black laces looped neatly through- without saying another word.

Your name, as broken as it is between his lips, is an admission of guilt. It’s a confession, an entreaty for you to stop pushing, and it contains unspoken defeat.

“Aaron.” Your voice is firm when you repeat his name, and his eyes snap up from his shoes- 3, 4, 5, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5- to meet yours. “Don’t I deserve to know?”

You do. He knows you do. The ‘don’t I deserve?’ angle is never something you’ve used, and he knows this is a last ditch effort to get the truth out of him.

You do deserve to know.

How can he say it? How can he tell you the truth? How can he possibly look into your earnest eyes and pretend that he can defend himself and the decisions that he’s made?

He can tell you that more kids doesn’t make sense; he knows that, in a factual sense. He wasn’t around enough when Jack was little, is hardly better at being around now. The job is priority; he could get hurt or worse, and leave behind a widow with more mouths to feed than she can handle. He could become a twisted version of his father, pitting his children against each other. He’s too old to run around with toddlers for the next ten years.

He can tell you any number of things that make sense, but you won’t accept anything less than the truth. That, at least, is written plain as day on your face.

“She isn’t you.”

His words hit you like a bucket of ice water. They slap you so hard that you have half a mind to bring a hand up to your cheek and check for sore spots. “Aaron-”

“It’s true. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you wanted the truth and that’s it.” His breathing sounds more ragged now, like he’s fighting to stay collected. 

He doesn’t know what he was thinking, telling you. He isn’t trying to get you back. You made your choice, you walked away, and that’s that.

“Aaron. You want a family,” you remind him, your voice cracking. How can he not remember? How can he throw away the last two years, disregard your sacrifice like this?

Hadn’t that always been his dream? A positive pregnancy test with a woman who loved him? And yet, in the final hour, he’d walked away. He’d made a choice, one that he has to face now, with you.

“I know. God, I know, but it just… it couldn’t happen.”

“Because she’s not me? Are you serious?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, fraught with disbelief and maybe a hint of fear at the potential weight of his answer, and you wish that Aaron were speaking even quieter when he responds. You wish you couldn’t hear him at all.

“Because there’s no family without you.”

The dry scoff that escapes you is answer enough, especially once it’s paired with your head dropping into your hands. “Then what the hell have we been doing?”

“I tried,” he defends. Desperation is poured into every syllable, filling in the spaces of the things he can’t say like resin on wood. “I gave it a chance, she was happy. But when I saw that test…”

Neither of you knows if he’s stopped to figure out what he should say, or if it’s because he can’t say it. He looks small, appears defenceless in a way that he never lets himself.

“I couldn’t do it,” he finishes. He spreads his hands out, a placating gesture. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want a family with her. When I saw that test, I was scared. Terrified. A baby is a commitment, and I don’t- I can’t- see myself making that commitment with anyone but you.”

“You know how I feel about kids.” For a moment his eyes flicker down, to where your phone sits on the bed, and you have half a mind to wonder if he’s going to bring Tristan into this.

Maybe he’s settled more into this conversation. Maybe he’s realized that he doesn’t have much to lose here. For whatever reason, his rebuttal to you, perched facing him on the opposite bed- worlds away, yet only mere feet- is more of a challenge than a question. “When did I ask you to have any?”

“What?” You tilt your head the slightest bit, stray hairs illuminated in the yellow-grey light, and he thinks his heart skips a beat when you blink.

“I didn’t ask you to have kids. I never asked for that.” He knows it for a fact; that simple thought has been his port at sea more than once, on the nights where he wondered exactly how things had gone so wrong.

You blink again. ‘I want us to get married, have as many kids as we can, I want all of that and I want it with you.’ Those were his words, spoken so passionately two years ago.

But there were other words, too, and they fly back into your mind like they’re trying to haunt you. Words that circle you, remind you that you were the reason he couldn’t have that life.

‘I’ve been thinking, and you’re more important to me than having more kids.’

‘Just say the word, and I’ll never bring it up again.’

‘I’m not going to sit here and tell you what I want, because I’m not forcing you into that. You don’t want it, fine. We don’t do it.’

You remember him confessing what he wanted, so earnest and unexpecting of you to go along with it.

Phrases swirl your head, sentences that haven't done so since the breakup.

Sentences that you hadn’t let yourself understand until now. 

‘I would be happier knowing that I’m in a relationship with someone who wants the same things I do. I want that with you, I want you to want it, but that isn’t happening.’

‘I want us to go back to normal. How we were.’

‘You’re all I need. I mean it.’

“You want a family. That’s what you want.” Your protest is weak, and you don’t know if it’s a protest for your self-protection or his feelings.

Maybe it’s both.

“You were my family. You and Jack. I was so happy with you.”

“Not as happy as you could have been,” you counter. Aaron visibly hesitates, a moment of back-and-forth sway before he crosses the room to sit next to you on the other bed.

“You…” the breath he takes is deep and rattling. “You made me happier than I could ask for.”

You move back and he does too, kicking off his shoes to mirror your crossed legs. The two of you sit and face each other. The headboard sets the scenery behind him, cheap hotel wall art behind you. When you take a breath, so does he.

“You walked away,” you remind him. It isn’t a show of blame; it’s a reminder, pure and simple, that he wasn’t happy with you. 

“No, I didn’t.” He reaches out, one of his hands trembling as it grasps yours. “I wouldn’t have.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, he watches as his hand wraps around yours, squeezes it once.

He’s just about to let go when you squeeze back.

“You told me to go,” he whispers, staring down at those linked hands. If he looks you in the eye now, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. “It’s what you wanted.”

You laugh, and the sound is humourless and dry. “What I wanted? Aaron, you only stayed past that first day for me, to make me feel like I wasn’t ruining your life. I didn’t kick you out; I let you go.”

“I didn’t get a choice. I chose to stay, I chose you above a bigger family, and you didn’t let me,” Aaron says, and your hand tightens on his. “I tried, okay? I- I found Beth, we moved in together. For God’s- Ella called me ‘dad’. I did my best to have that life. I tried. It didn’t work.”

“I don’t know what you want,” you confess, and he hates himself a little more when he sees the heartbreak in your eyes. “I just want you to be happy. I thought I was giving you that.”

Aaron shifts himself, moves a little closer to you. He thinks he might be about to say the wrong thing, the thing that destroys whatever tentative relationship the two of you have built.

He doesn’t care.

This relationship, this dance of overdoing and understepping and caring too much without saying enough? He doesn’t want it.

He doesn’t care about throwing it away.

“Nothing,” he vows, extending one hand to raise your chin when you look down, “Nothing has ever made me as happy as you did. That’s all I wanted. You.”

You avert your gaze, and you feel your face grow warm. It’s been a long time since he looked at you like this, with all of the care and attention in the world somehow pouring from the gaze of warm hazel eyes locked on yours.

“What do you want me to say?” You ask after a stretch of silence. Not even the sound of breathing dares to disrupt the quiet; neither of you want to make the wrong move right now, not when you can see the crossroads ahead. 

“Whatever you want to say. Just not what you think I want to hear.” 

That’s what it’s come down to, at the root. Both of you lying, sneaking, saying and doing whatever you can to protect the other’s feelings and do what you think is best. He’s tired of it.

You did what you thought was the right thing, and let him go. He did what he thought was the right thing, and chased the life you made possible by leaving. But neither of you are happy, and he can admit that now.

“I still don’t want kids.”

“I’m still not asking you to have any.” He waits two beats, unsure if he can even bring himself to ask what he knows he has to.

“Does Jack count?” He’s breathless as he waits for the answer. You could have found freedom in the last two years, after several spent living a mother’s schedule. Maybe you don’t want a hand in any child’s life, and he won’t begrudge you that.

“He’s… no,” you say, and Aaron exhales in what might be relief. “But that doesn’t mean I want more. You want more.”

“I want you,” he corrects, the same way he did two years ago. Maybe this time you’ll listen, and accept his words for the truth that they are. “I had more. I didn’t want it, not without you.”

Your breathing, shallow and timid, hitches at his words. He notices the slip-up in a heartbeat, wants to trip over himself and correct it. Before he can, you say, “But the future-”

“The future,” he interrupts, clasping one of your hands in both of his, “My future, it only matters if it’s you.If you’re happy with Jack, I’m happy. You’re what I need. You’re all I need.”

“Aaron, please.” Your voice is small, and that’s when he realizes that he’s been trailblazing this conversation with hardly a thought about what you want. Maybe you’ve moved on, or fallen out of love.

He doesn’t think you have, though. Between your conversation at the wedding and the fact that you’re still here, both hands now holding onto his, wide eyes peering into his own, he thinks he’s made a safe bet.

“Please, what?” He murmurs. He can defer to you now, let you approach this at your pace. He’s said his piece.

It’s not until he sees your eyes squeeze shut that he remembers your concussion, and he’s sure that this conversation isn’t helping what must be a painful headache.

“I… it’s getting late. And I really should sleep. My head...” 

Every instinct in Aaron’s body is well-honed, trained to take opportunities that might pass him by otherwise. It’s what got him Haley, what got him into the BAU, and now it’s what might get you back.

Every instinct is screaming not to let you leave. 

“Do you want to talk more about this later?” He offers, his right hand releasing your left. The other two stay linked, his fingers brushing the cast, and you make no move to loosen them as you nod.

He waits. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, but he waits.

You close your eyes, already on the verge of rethinking before you speak. But you’ve got instincts, too, and they’re all telling you to stay in this room. Your future is in this room, and you aren’t about to close the door on that. Even if the conversation can wait, you know exactly how it will end.

It’s clear to you now that Aaron only left because he did the same thing you did, tried to protect your feelings. He never would have left if you hadn’t forced his hand and left first, and the thought of the time that you lost makes your chest seize unpleasantly.

It’s not too late to undo old mistakes, though.

“Can I sleep here? It’s not really safe, getting a taxi this late.”

Aaron lets go of your other hand first. “Of course, you can.” He’s half situated to go to sleep already, just has to take off his tie and loosen his shirt. He doesn’t get off the bed, and that’s why it surprises him when you lay down in the same bed, on your side.

“So you don’t have to share with Spencer when he gets here,” you explain through a yawn, and his heart hurts when he sees the way your nose crinkles. He’s missed it, missed you.

Sleep comes quickly, somehow. The exhaustion of the day, of the conversation, overtakes you both in what feels like mere moments.

-

When Aaron wakes up, it’s with his arms around you and his nose pressing into your neck. He holds on for a moment before he has to let go; you’ll have time later, and the team is waiting.

Getting out of bed, Aaron finds the other queen bed- Spencer’s- empty, untouched.

When the two of you arrive at the jet, late with your suitcase, he says, “I stayed with Morgan and Rossi. We thought you could use some privacy.”

You let go of Aaron’s hand to reach out and ruffle Spencer’s hair, ignoring the look he gives you when you mess up his curls. “Thanks, Spence.”

If the team is anything, it’s ‘respectful when the time calls for it’. No one says a word when you and Aaron sit next to each other. No one blinks when your hand slides home into his.

His fingers lace around yours. He squeezes once, and you squeeze back. As the jet takes off, soaring towards DC and your new future, you hold onto him. It’s going to be alright.

Once upon a time, they always said that you and Aaron were the lucky ones. Maybe they were right.

Tags: @crowfootwrites @abschaffer2 @jaspxr @angelfxllcm @spacecowboyhotch @ssamorganhotchner @sadgirlml @sunshinemunchkin @wheelsupkels @ashhotchner @laurensprentiss @hotchnerxo @strange-mischief @helmihotchner @dontcallmekittens @ssacharcoalgrey @allthefandomstogether @pandorasdreamings @hotched @scargarcia-magshotchner @multiverse-mxdness @nevillescomslut @queenofthepouges @ivanaplvc @itseightbeats @justreadingficsdontmindme @jareauswife @reidselle @rousethemouse @mojo366 @anlin2058 @realdirectionx @feedthemadness-sweetie

Series tags: @riot—ing, @jori21, @simpingfortoomanypeople, @mynotesapptbh

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Tell me what you thought/yell at me <3

#my writing #aaron hotchner x fem reader #Aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x fem reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #hotch fanfic #hotch fanfiction #cm fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner angst #hotch smut #hotch x reader angst #aaron hotchner x reader angst #hotch hurt/comfort #Spotify

[anitalianfrie]

rockstar au 👀👀👀👀👀

rockstar au... i accidentally built it while writing "this is a love story"....

Dani and Jorge and Vale all together in a world-wide famous rock band that have to get a replacement for Casey after he fucks off to retirement because he's tired of vale's bullshits... and they have to do it super soon because they've got a new album that's just coming out and have scheduled a world tour. and ideally it should be a long term thing because going through too many guitarist would be detrimental to the image of the band as a 'united' group

And Marc who is a super fan but also a classically trained guitarist slash musical genius that through various endeavors gets Vale to listen to his stuff and vale goes omg... i need to meet this super talented almost unknow twenty years old... so he fucks off to spain and auditions marc without telling jorge and dani and like. listens to marc for three seconds and tell him he's hired without even consulting the others and brings him back to london where they should rehearse.

etc etc many things happen during the tour vale and marc fuck like crazy instead of writing songs and dani and jorge don't even realize because they are fucking like crazy when they are not hitting each other with the respective musical instruments.

they write an album, make another world tour, everybody is still fucking, pedrenzo are having faux hate sex and licking tequila from each other's sweaty bodies in the club, rosquez are snorting cocaine from each other's abs, you know normal rockstar thing. marc is beloved by the fanbase, they rise in popularity, marc and vale sometimes get this close to fucking on stage.

but then they have to write another album. jorge and vale keep arguing about everything, uccio who's vale's personal manager does evil uccio things, marc proposes to write more on his own and vale takes it as a personal insult and proof marc is trying to throw him out of his own band, everybody has a terrible time. Vale goes crazy and like, hints at marc's percived evil plan during a concert, and literally like the day after talks to the press and publicly divorces marc. Marc replies by releasing an auto-produced song (like. literally a demo) where he clearly slanders him, and hard. But they still contractually have to get an album out, so while everybody keeps having a terrible time they finish it through gritted teeth and then split as a band.

pedrenzo get out of the band basically married and rosquez get out of the band as divorced as john lennon and paul mccartney when they ended the beatles. To complete the image, picture dani signing the band divorce papers in the same way george harrison did.

ps: if you wander what kind of shenanigans rosquez did on stage when they where in a situationship, picture the last shadow puppets. if you don't know who they are, ouch, i'm hurt, but here are some examples of... whatever they do/did (the homoerotic solo hug (ignore the weird ass camera angle pls)) (coachella) (every single rendition of standing next to me they ever did) (compilation of some of their gayes weirdest moments (key word: some))

#i'm so insane about this........ sorry #rockstar au #btw id love to talk more about this... pedrenzo i feel could be an untapped golden mine #motogp #rosquez #pedrenzo #shooters4yuki

[hopalongfairywren]

Sam Bucket Lore liveblogging

FUCK WE'RE LIVE

lore is starting in nine minutes ok. I can wait.

quackity inspires him omg. cc!Quackity really did raise the dsmp to new levels. It was already great but he made it fucking cinematic

tina shoutout! Everyone say thank you to cc!tina she is the reason

Sam bucket. I will never get tired of cc!sam saying saaam buuucket

wait its not over till its over... Huh. Damnit their goes my friday night

c!george cameo? They really are shoehorning in every lore deficient person into these finales huh.

creepy music ooh. I love the music its not spooky month yet but i feel like the music makes it come early.

jumpscares? Fuck. The things I do for minecraft lore

Bad, minecraft is fucking terrifying

Oh thank god the timeline is saved

STARTING

oh god it has a "disturbing content warning" and its crackling like a found footage thingy. Well dsmp fandom if I don't see a shit ton of halloween/horror projects after this imma be mad

recap! with creepy music!

god damn it im already on edge

c!sam thank you for having more reason than the average horror protagonist

YESS. WAIT KNIGHTS OF HOPE? WILL THEY JOIN? AU MATERIAL?

talk to foolish? At the same time as perhaps... the knights of hope... so interconecting lore and plotlines that compliment each other?

No one would come. Nobody trusts c!sam or c!bad because of their actions. Jesus christ. That's my angsty interpretation but it's probably everyone just going; "Well ghosts are real, you can revive the dead, their was a parasitic red egg that tried to kill us, but that..? That's ridiculous lol. Go take your meds."

c!sam is fucking terrified and trying to reassure himself that maybe this isn't real. I wouldn't exactly call it gaslighting (can we not water down the term gaslighting is actively malicious-)

Oh. He brought up being stuck in the egg. Get him c!Sam.

Past lorestream being mentioned in canon? consistency for lore/characters/timeline? Can this stream kiss me pls?

FUUUCK

why does the music sound like fnaf phone ringing stuff

aaand they split up. theyre totally dead

sam bucket

ok but imagine from an in universe perspective how terrifying this is. I'll make a detailed post later

fuck the worst thing is when its to dark you can't see the threat

is he gonna do the horror classic of sneaking into the monster?

YEP

EGG AINT GONE YET EGG MAINS STAY WINNING

jesus christ they took notes from classic horror movies didn't they

Oh god the og eggpire. This makes the current eggpire's actions even more horrifying. They knew they were wrong. they did it anyways.

And yet more proof that the dsmp has been inhabited long before c!dream and will be long after!

Sam bucket

Francis? FRAN?

Callahan? Dream? Slime? Who knows who started this take ur pick!

Oh god I was right. The eggpire people would have had a few momments of lucidity. Scp Slowburn sloth nightmarefuel shit right their

Oh he wanted his dog. Oh. :(

SAM BUCKET WAS WARNING THEM? OH? OH? (pls tell me this is the truth no sudden attack no jumpscare let sam bucket be good)

ok now i feel bad for what im gonna do with sam bucket in pitdd :(

Wait is this a trick? Oh fuck. FUCK.

Is he sacrificing himself or Bad?

Oh HIMSELF?

Now I REALLY feel bad for what I'm gonna do with sam bucket lore in pitdd. Ah well I wrote it back when sam bucket was new and its important

HE PULLED A SKEPPY REFRENCE WTF

OK that ending. I DID NOT SUSPECT THAT ENDING

So many questions. Is Sam bucket good? did he trick c!bad? Did he somehow escape after destroying the egg? did he kill c!bad after this or get him posessed? This doesn't end until cc!sam gets raided so I guess we have to find out....

Oh god back to the scary part no more whismical music

THE EGG IS FROM THE FUCKING NETHER?

Ok this left more questions then answers why did sam bucket show up outside after he blocked himself off. The implication of the Egg being from the nether. If this is the end I'll be confused.

oh wow this is late i forgot to publish it woops

#dream smp #dsmp #sam bucket #dsmp liveblogging #dsmp lore #awesamdude #c!sam #badboyhalo #c!bad #dsmp horror #horror tw #egg #the egg

[ghostofscarley]

hey yall, im bored, i hit 10 months of being sh free and my insomnia is playing up.. i read a george weasley fic and it had aussie slang (that ive never heard of) so i thought "hm, in celebration of 10 months, imma make a post of my favourite slangs and their meanings" as a 16yr old maori who has been australia since she was 4.. and then i thought "id love to hear abt others favourite slang words" so.. if youre interested, pls comment down where youre from and some of your favourite slang words, id love to hear all abt it <33

GHOSTOFSCARLEY'S FAVOURITE MĀORI SLANG

some music to set the mood (check out COTERIE, Six60, L.A.B, Sons of Zion, some of the best music bands from my home in nz)

You're an egg / Egghead

you're a clown

Hard out

a form of agreement ("the donuts are best when they're fresh" "hard out")

Mean as / Mean

that's cool

Keen

usually used when someone is enthusiatic abt going somewhere or doing something when asked ("do you want to go down to the beach?" "oh yeah i'm keen")

Tu Meke / Too Much

awesome, good job, informal thank you

Straight Up

absolutely (definite agreement) or if you're being straight up, you're telling the truth

Hiding

beating, physical punishment

Fizzy

soft drink or soda

Stiffy

boner, hard on

Bol (Later Bol, Chur Bol)

bro, g, cuzzy

Cuzzy

short for cousin tho its almost never your actual cousin, just someone you know or you're close too

Shot

another way to say thank you informally

Hundy / Go Hundy

go hard, 100%

Far / Far out

wow ("far out, this is a mean as pie" = "wow this is such a good pie")

She'll be right

it'll be ok, everything will be ok

Bloody oath / Fuckin' oath

absolutely, 100% certain

Pretty ... / ... as

pretty is often used as a describing word before another word and it means 'really' ("hes pretty funny" = "hes really funny"), and as is used as like.. an ending word to solidify a statement - an exclamation of sorts ("bro, i'm tired as" = "bro, i'm so tired")

Far, that's stink

that's no good, lame

Yeah, nah

uncertain, though most of the times its a no

Getting on the piss

getting drunk, absolutely hammered

Hammered / Wasted

absolutely drunk

Togs

swim wear

A feed / A munch

a meal

Lolly

sweets, candy

Chilly Bin

cooler, eski

Macca's

mcdonald's

Not even

no way, that's not true

What a sad guy

when someone does something mean, uncool or uncalled for

Biccy

biscuit, cookie

Crook

ill, sick

Mozzie

mosquito

I can see your breakfast / Your lunch is out

cleavage or the area under the belt and others can see it ("your dress is so short, i can almost see your breakfast") ("you need a new bra, your lunch is almost falling out")

#nz slang #maori #kiwi #slang #coterie #six60 #lab #sons of zion #Spotify

[lilacsandwhiskey]

Number 3 with Drew pls that concept lives rent free in my head

Playlists

Summary: drew makes u a playlist

Pairing: Drew Starkey x reader

Warnings: my rad taste in music, cheesy country songs, just straight up cheesy - gouda, cheddar, all of it tbh.

prompt from here

You and Drew were pretty new to the dating scene, but your friendship definitely was not. You’d spent several moments together - good and bad - which made Drew fall for you so easily.

Communication is a huge foundation for a healthy relationship but sometimes communication comes in several forms. One thing about you - music was your thing. He loved how often you showed him new music, how you would text him when you were apart how one of your favorite artists would drop music. It made him feel connected with you in a way no one else was.

Drew sat in his apartment, missing you as he listened to several playlists you’d made him. You had one for everything, jamming in the car, when you were sad, when you were happy, when you were studying, one for every little thing. He’d find himself listening to the ones you’d curated time after time, but tonight, he wanted to change it up.

He sat up in his bed, thinking about each part of your relationship - friendship to now - and how there was a song for everything. There were so many songs he’d listen to, and just think, ‘her… that’s her.’

He clicked “Create New Playlist” on Spotify, naming it, “for my girl.”

He was grateful that he’d overtime collected some of his favorite songs in his notes, a definite helper for this playlist. And so his fingers start typing and adding.

she - jake scott

electricity - drew holcolm

blue ridge june - sam burchfield

golden - harry styles

swept away - the avett brothers

hold my girl - george ezra

better together - jack johnson

i like me better - lauv

favorite dream - the careful ones

i cross my heart - george strait

i like you - ben rector

whatever it is - zac brown band

i don’t want to be friends - jake scott

i got you - jack johnson

all over the road - easton corbin

sweet creature - harry styles

carrying your love with me - george strait

you are mine - the avett brothers

isn’t she lovely - stevie wonder

dancing in the kitchen - lany

ilym- john k

Drew wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous - you’d shared tons of playlists with him. As he created it, he thought about the late nights and the cheesy old country songs you’d sing to the top of your lungs, windows down and breeze throwing your hair in every direction. The song he listened to when he was homesick and you were the piece of home he could keep. The songs that the two of you grinned about being so cheesy but you couldn’t deny you felt every word.

“thinking about you and made this just for u. hope you’re having a good night ❤️”

#drew starkey blurb #drew starkey #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey headcanon

[griffintail]

The First Day

Summary: Your first day on the server.

Pairing: Wilbur Soot x F! Reader

Next

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This is a story I was working on in my free time for like the longest time and it's still not finished and it's so long. God knows how many parts this will be. I need a title for this story too. I'll think of one separately and it will have it's own masterlist if people like it. 

SO! Without further ado, here you are because I was bored!

Oh and (Y/U/N) means YOUR USERNAME.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Wilbur logged on to the Dream SMP. He didn’t have anything to do there, it was just a place to run around and build for him at the moment.

        He had built his “ball” not far from Tommy’s base, maybe he could build something else…He wasn’t quite sure yet. Just as before, Tommy begged for his attention and chuckled at the boy’s antics quietly. As he was going to find a space to build a new name joined the server.

        (Y/U/N) joined the game

        He frowned. He’s never heard that name before. Someone must have though because Dream didn’t let just anyone on the server. He’d look into them later.

        He was once more about to go to work when there was a new message in chat.

        <(Y/U/N)> There are new people on today. \o/ Hello, Mr. Soot and Mr. Innit.

        He chuckled as he read the message deciding to give them a response, smirking at Tommy’s probably rage.

        <WilburSoot> Hello there! :)

        <(Y/U/N)> May I know your coords?

        <WilburSoot> You may

        He gave the newcomer he coordinates, deciding to stick around the ball as he had as Tommy messaged him with renewed hope. A figure that wasn’t Tommy climbed up to Wilbur. The character was a female skin in a plaid jacket that was open with a plaid shirt and blue jeans to match, wearing a gray beanie on blonde hair.

        <(Y/U/N)> Hi! I’m new and wanted to give you a gift.

        She threw a flower, a poppy specifically, at him and when he picked it up, he noticed it was named.

        From (Y/U/N) to WilburSoot

        <WilburSoot> Why thank you Ms. (Y/U/N).

        <Tommyinnit> WOMAN!?

        <(Y/U/N)> No problem good day!

        <(Y/U/N)> Mr. Innit! May I have your coords?

        <Tommyinnit> No I will not give a woman my coordinates!!

        <(Y/U/N)> :(

        And now was the time to respond to Tommy. Wilbur logged onto the discord and joined Tommy in his call.

        “Wilbur!”

        “Now Tommy, that’s not how you talk to a lady.” Wilbur jokingly scolded him. “Apologize to her.”

        “I am not going to apologize to a woman!”

        “Tommy,” Wilbur warned. “Don’t make me block you.”

        He heard Tommy sigh exasperated and typed in chat.

        <Tommyinnit> I’m sorry

        <(Y/U/N)> :) It’s ok. I wish to give you a gift! Coords pls?

        <WilburSoot> He lives in those fences right across from here

        “Good, thank you, Tommy.”

        “Will you talk to me now?” Tommy asked with a huff.

        “Sure.”

        He first went into his ball as the girl sprinted over to Tommy’s place. He put the flower in a chest before following after her as he listened to Tommy talk.

        “Why the hell did she give me a flower?” Tommy questioned as Wilbur was halfway to Tommy’s.

        <Tommyinnit> Why the hell did you give me a flower?

        <(Y/U/N)> I’m new and I just want to give you a welcome gift!

        <(Y/U/N)> I need to work on my house. Good day, Mr. Soot and Mr. Innit!

        She sprinted away towards the community house. Wilbur stopped next to Tommy as he was holding a red tulip.

        “Wha…What was that?” Tommy asked Wilbur.

        “She told you, now what do you want to do?”

        The new girl had left before Tommy’s stream ended and after Tommy’s stream and he left, Wilbur decided to look up who the new person was. Looking up the name, he got a Twitter, YouTube, and Twitch account. On her Twitch there was a new video streamed today titled “Let’s not be homeless! (DreamSMP)”. She had a decent amount of followers on her Twitch and her YouTube channel, she had half a million subscribers. On her Twitter, there was a picture of a dog with its face pressed against the camera that had taken it. There was a tweet from not long ago with a full picture of the same dog next to a desk.

                                                     -------

        (Y/U/N) @(Y/U/N)

        He wouldn’t leave me alone all stream! I love my good boy but a girl needs her space!

                                                     -------

        Wilbur gave a quiet chuckle before liking the post and giving her a follow. Maybe he’d meet more of her…

                                                      -------

        Wilbur logged into the server once more to work on his project to come with Tommy. There were a few people online, Tubbo, Ponk, and Fundy. He didn’t bother them though, giving greetings back when given before getting to work. As he did, he got a notification from his phone that someone was live and glanced over. (Y/U/N) was live.

        Curious, he pulled up her stream and decided to leave it on in the background.

        “Hello, magical people! We’re going to be jumping back onto the SMP! My house looks so dull and I wanna find wolves.”

        Wilbur caught her accent immediately, American, definitely.

        “What do you mean there’s three people I haven’t met! I don’t have experience chat! Don’t say that!”

        (Y/U/N) joined the game

        “Fudge there’s three people I haven’t met. Firetrucks, uhhhh, I need to give them their flowers but I can’t name them!”

        <(Y/U/N)> Hello new fellows! \o/

        <Tubbo_> Hello! o/

        “I like that one.” She laughed. “He definitely deserves a flower. Oh, Mr. Soot’s online. Maybe he can help…”

        Wilbur looked over to see her typing a message in chat to him and as he looked over, he realized there was no webcam. She must not like to show her face.

        (Y/U/N) whispers to WilburSoot: Hi Mr. Soot! I’m in a predicament. May I ask for some of your EXP levels to name three flowers?

        He chuckled as he typed back to her.

        WilburSoot whispers to (Y/U/N): I have a few I can spare. I’ll be heading over to the ball to meet you. Just bring the anvil and flowers.

        “He’s a lifesaver chat!” She cheered. “We found a good one!”

        He laughed as he made his way over to his ball.

        (Y/U/N) whispers to WilburSoot: You’re a lifesaver! I and the chat thank you!

        She came sprinting over a few moments after he got there and she placed the anvil down and threw to him a dandelion, an orange tulip, and an allium.

        (Y/U/N) whispers to WilburSoot: The dandelion for Tubbo, the tulip for Fundy, and allium for Ponk.

        WilburSoot whispers to (Y/U/N): Ok :)

        He named the flowers the same as she had named his as she took the chance of waiting to read out her subs and donations. As he named the last flower, he saw he had a spare daisy in his inventory. She was giving them flowers; he should give one back.

        To (Y/U/N) From WilburSoot

        He threw all the flowers back over as she was reading a donation.

        “Ah! Flowers! Time to hunt down the people!”

        (Y/U/N) whispers to WilburSoot: Thank you! I owe you one!

        WilburSoot whispers to (Y/U/N): Any time!

        She picked up the anvil before sprinting off into the distance and he went back towards his build.

        <(Y/U/N)> Mr. Tubbo! Hello! I’m new and wish to give you a present!

        <Tubbo_> Thank you!!

        It was a moment before a new message popped up in chat.

        <(Y/U/N)> Hello Mr. Fundy! I have a gift for you!

        <ItsFundy> Ah thank you very much!

        Wilbur found it rather interesting as he watched the chat about how she used titles to talk to others. It was rather formal.

        “What do you mean there’s an extra flower? I only gave Mr. Soot three. Ok, ok, I’ll look.” She told her chat. “I thought I taught you guys better.” He looked over as she looked through her inventory, hovering over the extra flower he had given her. “Oh! He gave me a flower back! No one’s ever given me a flower back! Two years of giving flowers to people on servers and Mr. Soot beats them all!”

        So, this was a regular bit she did. He was surprised though to hear that he was the only one to give her a flower back, blushing lightly at her off-hand compliment.

        <(Y/U/N)> Mr. Soot! Thank you for MY gift! :)

        <WilburSoot> It was no problem. :)

        “Now back on track! To Ponk’s!”

        Wilbur tuned out the in-game chat as he worked, looking towards his phone though when he heard his name.

        “Do I watch Mr. Soot? Well yes, I’ve watched a few of his videos with Jschlatt and I’ve listened to his music video, uh…The Internet Ruined Me! That’s the one.”

        Wilbur blushed lightly once more. She had watched some of his videos and his music?

        “Do you watch anyone else on the server? Yeah, I watch a few of the guys like Sir Dream, George, and Sapnap. I watched one or two videos of Mr. Innit’s and Tubbo’s creation. But I have to be here with you too chat! I don’t have time to watch everyone!”

        Wilbur finished building, about to log off for the day but stopped and opened in-game chat.

        <WilburSoot> Good bye Ms. (Y/U/N)!

        “And he’s saying bye to me! Why didn’t we meet him sooner chat?!”

        <(Y/U/N)> Goodbye Mr. Soot! :)

        “I am not simping chat! I thought I taught all of you better!”

        Wilbur laughed as he turned off the stream. She was certainly a character.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #dreamsmp x reader

[soft-boi-eli]

OMG CAN WE HAVE LIKE EMO KID PART 2?

like Emo kid reader is in a band and like since tommy and the others are staying for a week the decided to go to Emo kids band (rock band btw) Emo kid is also Vocalist and Guitarist

They/them pronouns pls!

You know what sure.

Dadza x reader

Pronouns:nonbinary

Warnings: mentions of anxiety. Mention of crowds.

Your father didnt care what you did. As long as you were happy and healthy. You swear oh no. At least you're not doing drugs.

You hang out with people your own age and have fun. Oops. I guess you're a teen you formed a band with your friend. He and his wife are supporting you to the max.

You were the child that they wanted. You were their little merical even if you were adopted.

So when you and your friend were in the garage, you're friend on drums and you with guitar and vocals. It was bound for you to get heard. Just you didn't expect two of your best friends to know somethings up. Even when they didn't hang out much in person.

You got really excited one day. Your friends and you got contacted by a gig. They wanted youth that had a passion for singing and playing instruments. You two had both.

So you had your first gig.

And you didn't expect nearly everyone you knew to be there. Your dad, mom, Tommy, tubbo, wilbur, techno, apparently ranboo was visiting Tommy and tubbo, George, niki, Jack, hell even fucking sapnap was here.

Your stomach felt heavy. Yes your mother and father supported you but they have never heard you sing. Tommy and tubbo. Yeah they have but not too much. The rest. They know you yes but you just never got time to just vibe and listen to music.

It wasn't long till yours and your friends turn.

You had chosen a song that you both were comfortable with. It was something you guys did for little warm ups.

(You sing both parts. Meaning both if the people here are you.)

As you sung you kept you're mind away from the people. Imagining the garage that you were comfortable in. So somehow you managed to nail the guitar solo. Your voice was in time and there was no cracks. Just how you like it. It was perfect.

When the so g came to the end there were claps. Some people shouting. It was nice. But you looked at your parents. They looked proud. Tommy. Tubbo. They were shocked. Ranboo had shock all over his face. Yet he seemed happy.

Walking off the stage after a wave and a goodbye you relaxed back stage.

Your anxieties slightly gone now. It felt okay. This wasn't too bad for you. But it still was a littler nerve racking.

The whole group exsisted in your room off stage. As you were releasing yourself from the prison you called tighter clothes.

Tuddo tommy and ranboo were praising you for being able to concer your anxiety and just do it.

Techno was happy that you were finding yourself. He was always a brother figure to you. Wilbur was proud that the vocal lessons and guitar lessons were put to good use. And your father, sapnap, your mother, Jack, and niki were all setting up a YouTube and twitch account for you. Just so that you guys can start out and gain a fan base.

This was all so that you can launch your career. You had said to them before. You loved music. And there was no stopping you from making it now.

With the help of everyone you were now launching something for the world. And due to the support you were quick to gain a fan base. A few recommendations from your trio of streamer friends, your father, Jack, niki, sapnap, even techno sometimes played your music in the background of his streams. When someone asks. He just gives your plugs. This was literally your dream. And you couldn't help but be happy for everything that everyone had done.

"Look at them. Following their dreams like they should be. If you don't know who this is. It's our friends their on twitch and youtube. They make music. Their usernames are _________." - tubbo

"These fantastic people here are our friends. Their vocalist and guitarist were the first one we met. And their friend is just as cool. They have a channel for their music. They're called _________." -tommy

"I have been into this new ban lately if you haven't heard from the background music. They're on all of these platforms under the name _________." - ranboo

Hey so I didn't know what to do honestly. So having to try I hope that I did good with this. I don't listen to much rock music. I don't fully know alot of rock bands. One of them I did know was skillet so I hope the song was a good choice. If not then you can choose what ever song you'd like to.

Again didn't fully know what to do so sorry to disappoint if I did.

Eli out

#techno x reader #mcyt fluff #techno mcyt #mcyt #dsmp philza #philza x reader #philza #phliza mcyt #dsmp tommy #tommyinit mcyt #tommyinit x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit #tubbo x reader #tubbo #tubbo dream smp #tubbo x y/n #tubbo myct #ranboo x reader #ranboo mcyt #ranboo dream smp #ranboo