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inkdrinkerworld · 10 days

Note

hi! i saw you were taking requests for post prison spencer, so hey

i was thinking about spencer meeting a kinda sunshine reader, and it’s like…love at first sight. she’s literally the one to make him smile for good

feel free to add your magic to it, and to ignore it, don’t feel pressure at all!

have a good day/night <3

babe you guys are saving my life with these requests right now! I'm feeling so good about everything I write again <3 enjoy sunshine!reader x post prison!spencer who looks less tense and serious around you

You’re at his desk, sitting there all perfect in your orange button up and flared pants, Mary Janes clicking on the linoleum tile as you tap your pen against your lips. Your hair is scraped back into a ponytail, the plait brushing the spot between your shoulder blades.

Spencer had asked about you to Penelope, asked about your personality, about how you work- all the important things. What he didn’t ask was if you were gorgeous and Penelope, who loves to divulge, had never said a thing about your looks.

“Hi, you’re Y/n right?” Spencer’s standing before you, not realising how intimidating he must look till you jolt in your chair.

You’d been trying to get your morning crossword and read in before the day had officially begun, a habit you’d been trying to keep up with since you started the job. So far it’s been going- the crosswords are boring so you have to pretend to be distracted by it to let it last a bit more than four minutes.

“Oh sorry, I am. You’re Doctor Spencer Reid,” you lean back in your chair, not bothering to hold out a hand to you. Penelope had grilled you on his aversion to germs and touching people more than needed. “I’m sorry about taking over your desk, but they didn’t have any free ones.”

Spencer shakes his head, you take a moment to look him over. His hair is a bit looser than you’d imagined, Penelope said curly hair and you’d thought tight spirals- he has pretty loose ringlets, dark and mocha-like.

He smells like leather and something else, maybe plum and black currant- it’s a bit of an all encompassing smell that you like already. He’s much prettier too, he looks tired, but still pretty. His stubble presents a problem, you know it’s going to be your downfall.

“It’s alright, we keep a tight ship. Have they been treating you well?”

You tilt your head, “The team or the unsubs? Because it’s been too many cases to have real team building.” You grin when Spencer huffs, making his lips twitch. “But I think getting concussed while saving Newbie’s ass counts for something.”

Luke grumbles as he walks by with his coffee, “You were hired after I was,” patting Spencer on the back when the taller, lithe, man rolls a chair to sit opposite you.

“Do you still experience headaches or migraines?” Spencer kicks himself when he sees your tongue poke into your cheek- you’re trying hard not to smile at his question. He also thinks he’s doing a shoddy job of flirting but that can be fixed- he’s been in prison for the last three months, he just needs to get back in the swing of things.

“I’m pretty sure your first official day back starts with you in Emily’s office and not giving me an impromptu physical, Dr. Reid.” His lips twitch again, cheeks jumping as he shakes his head.

“It’s just a check-up, no physical yet.” he stands, not really giving himself time to overthink what he’s just said. It’s more than a little presumptuous on his part but you don’t call him an asshole or swear at him, so he thinks he’s okay with it.

“Do you want your desk back, Spencer?” you’re earnest in asking, not wanting to fuck up his routines and his norm. You can tell you like him already and it’s hardly been a fifteen minute conversation.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take the one right there.” Spencer points a finger to the desk right in behind yours with a little less severity to his lips, his stubble looking even more attractive as he does so.

You watch him walk away, willing yourself to be professional about all this, he may be hot but he’s your coworker and you know all about close proximity relationships possibly being shams. You’re not here for that, so Spencer will be a good friend.

You make your way into the kitchen, steps light as you reach for your mug- a cute blue mug with an orca as the handle.

“So you come in and the kid’s already obsessed with you?” Rossi’s right beside you, making you jump as you put more than the recommended amount of tablespoons of coffee into your mug.

“It’s not like that, you all made him out to be this awkward shy mess and he isn’t.” You try to sound as casual as you can, but you profile your own voice and know how it sounds to everyone- wistful.

“Maybe he’s seen a pretty girl and the ‘awkward shy mess’ melted away,” Rossi places his hands on your shoulders. “He’s a good kid. You can trust in that.”

You roll your eyes, stirring your coffee. “I’m pretty sure he’s in his thirties, Rossi.” You take the milk from him, pouring it in till your coffee is just at the lip of your mug and smile. “Definitely too old.”

Rossi waves his hand, “I’ve been married four times, old isn’t a marker for romance anymore. Not when you’re only twenty four.” He leaves you be for a moment, and on your walk back to your desk to fill out the remaining crosswords you mull over his words.

As you sit, you look down and find it all filled out in black ink, opposed to your blue and you know who did it, if the messy scrawled message is anything to go by- ‘You should get The Washington Post puzzles, much more stimulating.’

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undercoverpena · 27 days

Text

1. tie the knot

javier peña x f!reader* | chapter one of let us pretend

summary: peña has been back in Texas for all of five minutes, thinking he wants a simple life. but, when steve offers him the chance to gather information on a potential new player, he jumps at the chance. the only problem is, to do so, he'll need to go undercover with a female agent—and pretend to be her husband.

wordcount: 4.6k chapter themes: fake dating/relationship/marriage, forced proximity / sharing one bed, colleagues to lovers, no use of Y/N, *female agent has a nickname (sunny) for use undercover. an: this week i am full of surprises. welcome to the world of let us pretend. this chapter might not feel different from htcu, but it is.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

It’s simple on paper. Easy. A thing he’s already a master in, something he has never found particularly difficult or hard: pretending.

Javi, after all, had had always been pretty good at concealing, at masking—

“Y’need to pretend to be married.”

Faking being a husband was a new one.

Having lived with far too many emotions for so long, it’s not hard for him to fake nonchalance.

Colombia had been his school. The place where he collected his degree—days of pretending he was okay. Hiding the fact he couldn’t sleep the horrors away, that he wasn’t falling apart at the seams. That stress wasn’t making him chain smoke and the pressure wasn’t making him sink his cock into women he couldn’t save.

He picked up his doctorate when he returned home. When ranch life had felt so fucking dull it made him want to pick the smoking habit back up, just for something to do. When he saw boats that made his insides twist, but found he had to wear a smile. Hiding, as expertly as he could, so he didn’t bristle each time someone called him a hero—when all he wanted was a drink, a fuck or a newspaper.

Mostly, Javi had become a master in squirrelling away the fact he saw every minute of the hours at night, feeling nothing short of relief when his alarm chimed so he could get out of his homemade prison.

Bluffing had always been a skill of his. But, this, this was new to him. His bluffing had never required him to wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“And, Jav. Try not to fuck her.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—or that he’s happy and content.

From the moment the two of them reunited, he took in the glow on his old partner’s skin (the one he strongly suspects isn’t just from the sun) and listened as he heard short (in Murphy’s opinion) stories about his daughter growing older.

Javi couldn’t relate—not that he’ll admit it. Just another thing he disguises. Smothers his face in what he assumes is what happiness looks like, wears it like an accessory, something akin to wearing a jacket, rather than actually feeling it.

Picking up a ring, rotating it between his thumb and finger, he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side sparks a grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot.

Because none of them look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Tricked in fact. Requested down here for an opinion, but when his worn-in soles landed in the office of his former colleague, it unravelled into something so much more.

Handed a file—one he knows everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javi knows better. Had known it too. Even suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

You don't just want me here for a consult, do you, Murph? Was hopin’ you were bored in Texas.

He suspects that’s why his Pop had given him an arched brow, an expression that was accompanied by pinched lips when he’d first mentioned it. Even his assurance that it’ll be a few days—just helping Steve out was met with a look Javi hadn’t banked on. Realising as he stood admiring wedding rings that his Pop had figured it out long before him.

At least now he understands why he got the Chucho-treatment—not quite quiet, but not quite the same treatment from him that he did the day before.

Instead, that kind of treatment that pierced itself into him, attempted to bury itself inside of him and made guilt flood through him like a poison.

Even if once before he would struggle with it, found himself desperate to apologise—make it up to his Pops—he didn’t this time. Because Javi already struggled. Already grown tired of itching for something.

So, he said nothing. Because he knows Murphy wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t need him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

Needing too.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation, suppressing a yawn.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, he’d been tired. Already beginning to fray at the edges, sleep had already become an even more distant friend.

All of it had been made worse by the worried look on Pop’s face when he dropped him at departures. It thickened, slathered itself on his shoulders even more so when he calls him from Murphy’s office to tell him it’ll be three months.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.” “Pop…”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain it all over again. From the top. All softly, with patience—the phone receiver leaving an indent on his cheek as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Reminding his Pop that this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few months, at most.

It didn’t shift the tone—didn’t stop Javi from imagining the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness over the phone, simmering in the miles of air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy situation.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand, pulling him back from his thoughts. “She’ll be here, alright.”

Javi snorts, swallowing.

Glancing back over another table, seeing other things, other accessories. Things that’ll help him blend, help the two of you blend. You and him, him and you—a person he knows the name of and nothing else.

Steve had shared that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust. That you knew the work so far better than anyone.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, blouse and black tailored trousers walking towards him.

It isn’t anything cliché.

Time doesn’t stop, the room doesn't silence, but something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters. Because instantly, Javi realises you’re pretty. A thought which confuses him, especially when it dawns on him that usually, it’s a woman's figure he notices and admires first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he lingers on.

And fuck do they cut into him.

Practically reach inside of him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, all at once, ceasefire. A chance to strengthen his façade as you turn to greet Murphy, a handshake, a sea of pleasantries. Enough chance to shove it down, whatever attempted to rise in him.

But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say, smirk sliding up into your cheek.

Your body suddenly turns to him, hand sticking out towards him, adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air and his body goes clammy, grows warm and makes him suddenly desperate for water, coffee or even whiskey.

Slipping his hand into yours, he’s not surprised to find that it’s soft, the right kind of warm. He’d suspected about as much from just appearances alone.

“Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you, Mr Peña.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he eyes you. “Think my wife should call me, Javi.”

Javi learns, rather quickly, that you have a nice voice.

It doesn’t grate, doesn’t annoy him—it’s informative, but there’s something else there, a playful edge, a little thing within you that hasn’t been crushed.

He remembers when he’d been as sprightly.

Rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm as he does, fingers desperate to clutch a pen, his jaw tightening as he thinks about how he could roll it in his fingers, hold it like he used to hold a smoke.

Fuck, he wishes he could chew his gum.

A thing which is slowly making him more tense.

Not that you seem to notice, too focused on getting him up to speed on the actual investigation. He’d read much of your notes before today, it was the next part he was more on edge by.

Because, whatever his earlier opinion of you was, he was getting the distinct impression you’d rather set your skin on fire than be fake married. A thing you stop trying to hide, your face displaying your disgust at it each time it is casually mentioned.

It was mandatory—Murphy’s words—for the two of you to get to know one another. A crash course, a 101 in the other. It’s told to you, that the two of you are going to be stationed in your new home for the next few weeks, starting from today. But, because they’re merciful—

“Wanted to make sure you had time to get to know one another. So, take the day—work can begin another day.”

“How nice of you, Murph,” he responds, words dipped in sarcasm. Briefly catching sight of you smirking as you study something on the table.

Javi had already imagined that—since it was recon, and more surveillance than anything else—for the most part, everything could remain the same. He learnt he was right moments later when it was confirmed his name would remain very much his own, and you were handed his surname like a gift you’d rather burn than accept.

It was you who had to surrender more.

“Y’need a new first name.”

If you were surprised, you didn’t show it. A sea of reasons given, the main one being if anyone asked around with a photo and your name, it would be easier to put two and two together. You lived here, for one.

You keep your eyes down, glancing over the table of possessions you’re allowed to borrow, to play dress up with. Fingers brushing over a watch (silver, a white face)—something haunting in your eye you’re quick to blink away when you meet Murphy’s stare.

Folding his arms, Steve sighs. “Jus’ something you’ll answer to. That can be used in public.”

Javi watches you smirk, something secretive, a hidden joke simmering between the two of you—leaving him very much out in the cold of it.

After a beat, you lick your lips.

“Sunny,” you reply, lifting your eyes, digging each syllable of the name you’re going to use into him.

“Let me guess you’re someone’s ray of sunshine?”

He doesn’t mean for it to fall out laced in bitterness, but it does all the same. His mouth tilted into a smirk, your eyes hardening as you placed down a pair of earrings you’d picked up.

“Think it’s more because of my sunny disposition.” He snorts, watching you move around the table. “It’s a family nickname—I’ve… I’ve always been called it, so, I’ll answer to it.”

Swallowing, Javi lets his eyes wander to the wall of the room.

“Alright, you two. You need to sell it, y’hear me?”

“Then we need money.” It’s short, stern, the way you deliver it, head tilted and face unreadable. “We’ll be sniffed out immediately without it. These people deal in money, not handsome faces.”

"So, you think I'm handsome?"

The roll of your eyes doesn't dispute it, not as you direct your attention back to Murphy.

Who, until now, Javi hadn't realised (with his hands on his hips) how big boss Murphy looked as he whispered fine, or how much it rather annoyed him. How it would be quite easy to give him a shove. More so when he’s handed a new phone, a set of documents, credit cards and given more instructions he wishes he could shove down his throat.

He almost gets close enough to do both when briefing ends and he’s handed the keys to the hotel suite they’d be living in—their story simple, easy:

“We have a fake house for you both being made ready as a cover story, but for now you’re both in the hotel. Prime location. Beach views, and very much in reach to the top places the targets visit.”

And, Murphy hadn’t been lying.

It did have good views, the suite was even nice—really nice.

Almost too nice for a little surveillance, a little fake marriage and a drug bust. But, he didn’t complain, barely said a thing in the ride over, or when you wheeled your own case. He even remained silent when you refused to look at him in the elevator or on the walk to the room, and even when the two of you entered.

In fact, the first words he said were: “You gotta try and look at me like you don’t wanna peel my skin off. You know, if you want this to work.”

He expects it; braces for it, the tongue lashing, an icy stare. Picturing you as the kind of woman who is already to sharpen your tools and pierce him with them when he blinks. But, you don’t.

If anything, Javi watches in slow motion as your shoulders sink, your cogs turning before your expression softens.

“You’re right—I’m… sorry.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he nods. “There’s one bed.”

“Well. We can sleep in the same bed, Peña. We’re adults. However, for your sake, I’m going to put a pillow between us.” Your eyes sweep over him, cold, drowning him in a chill. “Two actually.”

“You a cuddler, or something?”

Smiling, you sigh. “No. The pillow is so that if you roll over all sleepy and desperate for some affection, I won’t have to cut you. Because if you touch me, that is what will happen.”

“How are we meant to sell we’re in love if I can’t touch you?”

“Oh, out there, you can touch me. In here, no.”

His snort rumbles from his chest. Tugged up, wrenched from some cobweb-filled depth, as you smile. Nothing big, nothing life-changing, but a start—the beginning of a level-playing field.

“What kind of touching, cariño?”

Jaw tightening, you smirk—but it’s cold.

He suspects you’re used to charm. Easily able to disable it, switch it off, unfazed by his gaze or the edge of his words. If anything, you seem really fucking bored of it—something he’s not sure if he admires or despises.

“Nothing like you used to pay for, Peña.”

Before he’s even recovered, he learns that you take things seriously.

Your bag opens, pulling out a notebook—upside down cursive etched over a page, your eyes scanning over it, before you ask if he’s ready. He’s barely able to ask for what, when you begin firing things at him.

Favourite food. Comfort film. Where did we meet? What song do you sing in the car when I’m not around? Are you allergic to anything?

The list goes on, and on. The more things continue to run out of your mouth, the more he begins to admire you—to settle into some comfort that you want to do this properly. That you’re going to take it seriously too, something he wants.

Needing it to matter.

Needing to have something work out easily, not have it all end for nothing.

The only time you pause is for a dinner—room service, his treat and his choice. A way of providing proof that he’d been listening, paying attention—somehow wanting to prove something to you, even if he’d known you for only half a day.

“So, how did Murphy get you on this?”

He studies the way you cross your leg over the other, the base of your heel tapping against the carpet—all very much guarded, on edge.

“You can tell it’s my first, can’t you?”

Javi smiles, making it softer purposefully. “A little.”

“He said you were good,” you sigh, placing your napkin down. “I assume I was chosen because it was easy. Y’know, than someone with… higher priorities. Plus, I already know the case. Guess it just made sense to send me.”

Nodding, he watches as you avoid his sight, focusing instead on the swirls in the carpet. Something ticking in your pretty little head, it forcing your nostrils to flare, for your jaw to tighten—and he’s watching it happen, practically feeling the air around you begin to vibrate from it all.

“M’not gonna let anything happen to you, Sunny. You know that right?”

That does it. Further digs in the hatred you’re feeling tenfold because the use of your new name makes you flinch. And he knows, like he had suspected earlier that it means more than just a name. Especially from the look on your face.

At first, your expression is soft, almost mask-less—no walls, no defence. Then, like magic, it shifts. It drapes down, rebuilds, and suddenly there within seconds, the same expression he’s been working with since introduction.

“I have heard how you take care of the women who work with you.”

Picking up your drink, and stirring the straw, you let your eyes meet his. The small wooden table suddenly even smaller—the large suite, suddenly constricting in a way he hadn’t expected so far.

“S’not what I meant.”

“I know.” It’s curt, your reply. Clearing your throat, you snort, “You are handsome. I can see why you did so well. And, I might not need to say this, but I need you to know I like my job, and I don’t require that kind of care.”

Rubbing his jaw, he sighs. “That so?”

“I have something that can help with that. It doesn’t talk. It doesn’t need to remind it that it’s ‘so big’, and it doesn’t need me to call it baby. It just hums—politely—and makes my thighs shake. I just need you to be with me in this.”

He snorts, draining the rest of his glass. The ice clangs just before he places it back down on the table. “You bring it with you, your something?”

Licking your lips, your mouth slides into your cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve had told you his credentials—how he worked, how smart he was. How easily he was able to decipher a read on someone.

He did also mention much of Peña’s backstory—including his rich history with the opposite sex. A thing you hadn’t wanted to let escape out coated in catty and wrapped in bitchy. And yet, it had all the same.

You did want to get on with him, you admired him after all. Hearing the truths from Steve made the things that swirled like gossip even more impressive.

But, in all of the briefings you’ve had before agreeing to this, your boss had failed to mention that it wasn’t just the man’s tongue that got women to confess all their secrets, but his ridiculously handsome face too.

The one that keeps turning towards you—eyes concentrated in on you as though you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever had the chance to listen to.

But, it wasn’t just that. It’s that he’s quick-witted, observant, and it most definitely doesn’t help that he’s all broad shoulders and brown eyed. That, in part, you thought you could handle.

Then, he’d flirted.

On any other day, in any other place, you’re sure you’d have melted. Likely leant forward, elbow on your knee, tracing your bottom lip with your finger just to make his eyes drop to your mouth.

But, this isn’t any other day—it’s work, a job, one that requires him (in part) to be a flirt.

Clearing your throat, you smear on a smile. “You not tried to date since you’ve been home?”

His face hardens, just slightly.

It pinching, eyes more so than anywhere else—his smile falling, descending to a thin line as he traces his teeth with his tongue. Then, his eyes shift into an entirely different brown, an explosion of shades swirling—flecks of gold and sadness-infused umber.

“No.”

Nodding, you pick at some salad on the side of your plate. “Probably a good job—don’t need any angry people coming for me when I’m curled up on your arm.”

He snorts, but it doesn’t flutter over his face. His hand remains balled up, resting on the arm of the chair—something more there, prodding, needling him. He may be so easily able to read you, but you’re sure he’s about as clear as a warm day himself.

Landing his gaze back on you, you feel it linger, hover—before it begins to slip down from your eyes, landing somewhere at your neck, before the buttons off your shirt. Something warming inside of you, flooding out, spreading across your skin as you try your damnest to level your breathing.

“Got any more questions?”

“Plenty,” you reply, almost catching the y on your teeth before placing a light smirk out over your lips, letting it move across your face.

Gesturing, Peña licks his lips and so you begin with more. Not needing the book now, just working your way through the things which populate, which appear like bubbles he bursts with his answers.

He’s open about some things more than others. The two of you covering family quickly, childhoods even quicker. You both discreetly avoid too many details of Colombia, about the things you’d already heard in chunks from your superior.

Your 101 beginner class in your new husband proving to be easier to understand than your field handbook—although, you supposed the intermediate and expert levels to him would be far harder to crack.

He’s unmarried, not dating—there’s his dad, a sea of distant family and a town full of people whom his father would class as family. You suspect some guilt there, it layered between the conversation on his dad, and the one which followed when you’d asked if the ranch would be okay without him.

“—My Pops has had help for a long time. One of them has been promoted. He… He works there full time now.”

Even if he had tried to say it simply, it was laced in bitterness—not from jealousy, you suspect from the sadness that had poisoned over time. A well stuffed with things which had rotted and gone mouldy over time.

Upon sight of him this morning, you had known you’d need to be clever, smart—find ways to compartmentalise it all. Because, when he traces his nose with his finger, when his eyes widen a little more than normal—coffee-brown all but drowning you—you had known it would be hard otherwise.

Something there, niggling, piercing through.

“Any lovers I need to be aware of?”

Smiling, you slide your feet from your heels, pulling your legs up more, swallowing. “No, you’re good.”

“Any potential risks I need to be aware of—anyone who’ll call into question your new name?”

Your stomach knots, uncomfortably so. A thing balling inside of you, that same fear you’d been plucking at for days—ever since Steve had suggested your name, thrown it out on the conference table with a bunch of greedy eyes seated around it.

“No, I… you have nothing to worry about.”

He looks at you, lets it hover, hold. Something there, trying to disguise itself in the way he narrows his eyes a fraction, in the way his lips pinch together—the way his brain seems to whir like a fan that can be heard even across the table.

When you yawn, he makes a move to tidy up the plates for the tray—batting your hand away. “I’ve got it, cariño.”

“Cariño?”

Your cheeks are warm, more so under his stare. Easily able to smother it the first time, but found it difficult the second. It’s all wide, blooming—it tracing your eyes before it sweeps back to the tray.

“Gotta call my wife something original, special.”

“I’m hardly special, Peña.”

“If I’ve married you, you’re special.”

Clamping your mouth shut, you say nothing.

Something churning, a horribleness that you know stems from the fact this isn’t real. None of it. The niceness, the ring on your finger—the one your finger slides up your palm to brush over, to trace.

The one which didn’t have a home there this morning, but now sits like it’s always supposed to. Your stare on his back as he goes to the door, pushing the metal tray, the jingling of plates and glass sounding out as your heartbeat pounds in your ears, your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

It continues to hammer when your back flattened against the bathroom door—safe amongst marble, mirrors and an array of complimentary products which covered most of the sink.

Only as you begin to undress and change for bed, does it lessen, does your composure return back to you. The mask which you so delicately applied, the one which had taken more words of encouragement in your bathroom mirror this morning than you’d thought.

Because, it isn’t that you thought you couldn’t do this—but rather why would you?

This isn’t your expertise. Not your usual field of knowledge. The last time you’d even been on a date had been at least over a year ago, and the last time you’d lived with a man had been so long ago you were worried you’d wake tomorrow and learn you have habits you weren’t aware of.

Did you kick in your sleep?

Did you grind your teeth?

“Cariño?” Peña calls out, knuckles tapping on the door. “You good in there?”

No, you want to reply. Hands gripping the sink basin, staring at your makeup-less face and the nightie he was about to see you in.

“Yeah,” you call out, washing your hands, and flushing the toilet before unlocking the door, and emerging.

He’s polite enough to not drink you in, even if you're sure he’s craning his neck not to do so.

“Look. Before you crack your neck from not doing so.”

Smirking, he traces his fingers across his chin, before slowly dropping his eyes.

And you feel them.

Warm. Hot. Sliding over your neck, collarbone, down the silk which covers your chest, abdomen and most of your thighs, before he’s running his vision back up.

“Better?”

“Nice legs.”

Narrowing your eyes, you straighten your spine. “Try not to dream about them, and Peña?”

He hums.

“Try to remember you’re not actually married, don’t want you falling for the fantasy we’re putting on. Hate to break your heart.”

Leaning against the doorframe, staring at you, you somehow manage to level your breath. “If it’s you breaking my heart, Sunny. I might just let you.”

Your mouth almost falls open. Almost.

Something you think he's aware of from the way he smiles, from the way he drinks you in before he whispers about getting passed.

Then, you're alone.

Filling your lungs with a breath, staring around the room not sure how you're going to make it a week not cracking, never mind more.

CHAPTER TWO ->

AN: thank you for letting me tell the story how i always envisioned. your kindness is appreciated.

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honeygrahambitch · 2 months

Text

Will had one quick look at his watch.

"Time for me to go, it's getting quite late." He said as he got up from the armchair. He and Hannibal ended up talking for hours even if basically his session should have ended a long time ago.

He let out a deep hiss as a sharp pain went through his right shoulder. He knew he should have avoided making any sudden move.

"What's wrong?" Hannibal asked as Will'a sudden reaction caught Hannibal's attention.

"Yesterday I bent down to pick up a part of the boat engine I am working on and I must have somehow pulled a muscle. I forgot about it." He said as he quickly masked the pain with a smile.

"That's certainly not something to ignore." Hannibal said as he got up too and inspected Will from head to toes as if he was trying to make sure nothing else was broken.

"It's fine, ibuprofen helps." Will said and immediately regretted it. The expression on Hannibal's face changed.

"May I?" He said as he took a few steps closer behind Will.

"Let me guess, besides mastering all the skills a human being can master, you are also a physiotherapist."

"No, I haven't mastered it, but I do have some knowledge."

"Sure, go ahead, doctor." Will said and tensed instantly when Hannibal's hands rested on his shoulders.

"I need you to relax. And I need you to tell me when it hurts. And don't try to hold it in like you usually do."

"Is it that hard to believe that my pain threshold is just very high- OH FUCK, HANNIBAL."

"Seems like I'm in the right spot." He commented. Sure, asking Will to take off his shirt would have made his job easier but he didn't want to overstep his boundaries. He must have been in an enormous amount of pain anyway if he complied so easily with Hannibal's request.

"You think so?" Will asked and his again as Hannibal's hands did their magic near the spot where the neck meets the shoulder.

"Is this above your pain threshold?"

"Why? Is this all you can- JESUS CHRIST."

"Your muscles are so stiff. You were saying this shoulder of yours is usually giving you troubles in general. Would you mind it if I took care of your other shoulder too?" He asked as his hands presses now around the pulled muscle, giving Will a break. "It looks like you really need a massage."

"Whatever you say. Not all of us sit tight 24 out of 24."

"It's just a habit. Of course, that means it is something you have to educate yourself." Hannibal said as his hands were now massaging both shoulders.

Will let out a deep sigh as he felt his tight muscle slowly relaxing against Hannibal's firm grip. The initial pain was gone and was slowly being replaced by something else.

Hannibal found a spot right below Will's nape, almost between the shoulder bladed and used his thumbs to press into it. Will let out a moan and tilted his head back, leaning into Hannibal's touch.

Hannibal had a satisfied smile upon his lips as his hands went back towards Will's shoulders, working their way into relieving the stiffness. When he reached that one muscle again, Will didn't make any noise this time, other than letting out a sigh.

"You should have mentioned that you have magic hands since our first session. Is this something you include in your therapy?"

"Not to everyone. Just for you, in fact." He said as his hands were now resting on Will's shoulders.

"Thanks'. It feels like this has solved all my issues to be honest." He said and laughed, which made Hannibal beam even more.

"That is good to hear." Hannibal said as he walked away from his back. "And Will, you don't need to pull a muscle next time you need a massage. You can just ask for it."

#disclaimers I don't have any knowledge in the art of massage #and i don't want any correction regarding that #haha #just enjoy the fic #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal series #hannibal fanfiction

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xdirtyxlittlexgirl · 1 year

Text

Hurting & Healing

Pairing: Henry Cavill X Reader

Summary: You get into a terrible accident while Henry's away on shoot

Warning: Super angsty, fluff, mentions of death

Henry finally got a five minute break from his shoot and decided to finally give you a call. He had missed you terribly for the past two months as he was away shooting, and you both got very little time together between shoots. He had requested the director to take some time off so he can finally be with you again and his wish was granted, and he was excited yet relieved to know that he will be seeing you again in a few days. He sat in his chair, sipping his coffee trying to call you but your phone went to voicemail. This was unusual. You had a habit of always picking up his calls in a few seconds. Henry's heart was racing as he tried calling you again and again, but your phone was repeatedly going straight to the voicemail. He couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that was now gnawing on him.

He was about to call you once more when the director called him back to resume the shoot. Reluctantly, he made his way back, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of you. Safe to say he was worried at this point. He decided to ask his managers to try and connect with you while he was working. "Please just keep trying. My mind is thinking things, and I am not feeling good about this. I need to speak with her as soon as possible. You get it? Please." He said sternly to one of his managers, finally making his way back to the set.

But as the shoot went on, his anxiety grew by every ticking second, and he couldn't focus on anything except you. He was on edge and snapping at everyone around him in frustration. He had a temper problem, and it aggravated when he was worried and helpless. He was in the middle of the scene which he was already finding very hard to focus on, when he heard the director say cut. His managers interrupted the shoot and asked him to come to the vanity van. Henry could sense their unease, and his temper flared further. "What's going on? Why the hell are you guys not telling me?" he snapped.

Finally, one of his managers sighed and reluctantly handed him the phone, making him almost snatch it out of the others hand, which displayed a picture of you, bruised and battered laying in a hospital bed. Henry's heart sank. "She got in an accident this morning, and is now being treated in the City hospital. We have called and requested to have the best team of doctors work on her case..." His mind went blank as he kept staring at the pictures and his manager's voice faded in the background replacing it with pure silence.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled to process what he was seeing. After a few good minutes he was pulled from his thoughts as he looked red eyed at his managers. "What the hell happened? Why didn't anyone tell me this before? Fuck!" he yelled punching the wall next to him in pure frustration as he bruised his hands. His managers were shaken and scared seeing him like this. One of them calmly explained that the hospital staff tried to reach them, but didn't have any relevant contacts. It wasn't until one of the nurses recognised her and contacted them. They explained that they had arranged for a charter flight to take him to her immediately.

Henry couldn't believe what was happening. He had never felt this helpless in his life. You were his world, and seeing you like this tore him apart. He felt like he had failed you. He wanted to be around you. He knew how much you were missing him. He was now blaming himself for your situation. "Fuck! I wish I was there with her sooner! I wish I was there with her to protect her. It was my fucking job. It is all my fucking fault. Fuck!" He said through gritted teeth as he again punched his hand this time in the car door creating an evident dent. His managers were doing everything to calm him down, but it was all in vain.

Trembling with fear and anguish, Henry packed his bags and rushed to the airport. The flight felt like an eternity, and his mind was consumed with thoughts of you. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, and he couldn't help but think the worst, which pained him even more. He sat in the plane, his mind in a haze. The world around him seemed distorted, like a funhouse mirror that distorted and twisted everything into a grotesque caricature. He couldn't believe that you were just fine last night, all smiling and beautiful, and now you laid in a hospital bed, bruised and broken, while he had been away. You meant everything to him, and the thought of losing you was making him lose his sanity. He didn't know he loved you this much, that every second felt like eternity knowing he could lose you.

He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths, but his chest felt tight, and the air seemed to escape him. He could feel his temper rising, his frustration mounting with every passing moment. He pounded his fists on the armrest, feeling a surge of anger that he couldn't control. "Why did this have to happen?" he muttered to himself. "Why her? Why now?" The plane hit turbulence, and Henry jolted in his seat, the sudden movement breaking through his thoughts. He looked around, his eyes falling on the bottle and glass that lay on the table in front of him. Without thinking, he reached out and knocked them off the table, the sound of shattering glass filling the cabin. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but it was no use. The anger was still there, simmering just below the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

The flight attendant approached him, concerned etched on her face. "Sir, is everything okay?" she asked softly. He shook his head, unable to speak, and the flight attendant nodded sympathetically before walking away. He was afraid. Terribly scared to lose you. The words by his managers from before, finally echoed in his head. They mentioned you were in a critical condition, although they followed it up with a lot of hope, he couldn't shake away the sight of you, which made his fear grow stronger.

"God, please let her be okay," he whispered, tears streaming down his face. "I can't bear to see her like this." Finally his anger started to leave his body, replacing it with intense pain, guilt, fear, and hurt. He was alone with his thoughts, trapped in a prison of his own making. He couldn't escape the pain, no matter how hard he tried. He felt like he was drowning, suffocating under the weight of his own emotions, and the only way out of it, was to finally see you.

"I love you, princess" he whispered, the words barely audible over the roar of the plane's engines. "Please be okay." He said looking at the wallpaper of the two of you on his mobile, his throat tightening and choking with pain.

As the plane landed, Henry's heart was beating out of his chest. He could feel his anxiety and stress levels skyrocketing. His managers were already arranging for a safe passage through the airport, but as they stepped outside, a mob of fans surrounded him, all clamoring for his attention.

"Mr. Cavill, can we have a picture with you?"

"Please sign me an autograph, Henry!"

Henry tried to sign a few of them off politely, begging them to let him leave, but as he pushed through the crowd, he heard a fan talking about you. "I'm not (y/n), but I deserve some attention too!" His frustration boiled over, and he turned around, scolding her almost tearing up talking about you. "She's in the hospital fighting for her life, and all you care about is a damn autograph? Get some perspective woman!" Finally, he broke free from the crowd and drove towards the hospital. His heart sank as he saw the sign "Intensive Care Unit" in bold letters. He asked the receptionist for your whereabouts, and the receptionist recognized him immediately.

"Oh my god, you're Henry Cavill! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you at first. Follow me, Mr Cavill, I'll take you to her doctor." As they entered the doctor's cabin, Henry could feel his frustration, pain, and rage building up inside of him. The doctor gave him a somber look and spoke in a serious tone. "Mr. Cavill, I'm sorry to say that (y/n) has suffered severe head trauma, and the chances of her recovery are low. She is at a high risk of amnesia or worse, of slipping into coma. We are doing everything we can to keep her stable, but we need to prepare you for the worst." Henry felt like his world was crumbling around him. The doctor's words were like a punch in the gut, and he felt his eyes welling up with tears. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, losing the whole of his heart.

"Please, doctor, do everything in your power to save her. I can't lose her. I just can't." He spoke between tears trying to get the words out of his throat, although they came barely over a whisper. The doctor gave him a sympathetic look, knowing that there was only so much they could do. He was shattered into a million pieces, and he felt like he was drowning in his own pain and despair. All he could do was hold onto hope and pray for a miracle.

He sat in the waiting area, his eyes glued to the door of the ICU room. His mind is racing, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He has been waiting there for hours, hoping and praying that the doctors will give him some good news. Finally, the door opens, and the doctor steps out. Henry stands up, his fear plastered on his face as he approaches the doctor. "How is she?" he asks, his voice trembling with emotion.

The doctor takes a deep breath and looks Henry in the eye. "She's stable," he says. "But she still hasn't regained consciousness. We're doing everything we can, but the next few hours are critical." He nods, he felt his heart sinking. He felt like he's been hit by a truck. He can't believe that this was happening. He's never felt so powerless in his life. All he can do is sit and wait and hope. He was finally here, but he still couldn't do anything to fix you, to save you, to protect you...

He had begged the doctor to let him see her but he refused. The doctor explained how they're still treating your wounds and he will be able to see you later today. He nodded and patiently, yet impatiently waited outside the ICU. Hours pass, and finally, the doctor comes back to him. "Although she's still unconscious, we have shifted her to a room, and you can go see her now." he says. His heart leaps into his throat as he follows the doctor into the room. He sees you lying there, pale and still, hooked up to all sorts of machines. His heart breaks at the sight.

He takes her hand in his, feeling the coldness of your skin. Tears well up in his eyes once again, as he leans down to whisper in your ear. "Baby girl, I'm here," he says, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. Please, come back to me. I need you." He said, finally breaking into a sob that he had been holding for hours.

He sits by your side, holding your hand and talking to you, telling you all the things he's been holding back for so long. He tells you how much he loves you, how he can't imagine his life without you, how he'll do anything to make you better. He tells you all the things he's sorry for, all the things he wishes he could have done differently. His trying his best to make you feel his presence and bring you to life again. He needed you to speak back to him. As he talks, tears roll down his cheeks, and he can feel the pain and sorrow inside him grow. He's never felt so vulnerable in his life, and he knows that if you won't make it, he'll never be the same again. He tries to shake these negative thoughts and for now, all he can do is hope and pray and be by your side, holding your hand.

Hours passed as he didn't realise and fell asleep, curled up in a chair beside your bed, holding your hand tightly. He was exhausted, emotionally drained, and his body ached from sitting in the same position for so long, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to be there for you, to be the first thing you see when you wake up. As the night passed, he was into a deep slumber, but he was quickly awoken by a faint voice calling his name. He jerked upright, his heart pounding in his chest, as looked at you in shock. Yoy were awake.

"Baby?" he said, his voice choked with emotion. "Oh my God, you're awake. Are you okay? How do you feel?" He asked everything without a breath. He then immediately rang the bell to call the nurses and the doctor. "How is she now?" He asked impatiently to the doctor. "She's surprisingly much better Mr Cavill, looks like you were what she needed to heal." The doctor said finally leaving the two of you alone.

"How are you feeling princess? You scared me so much. I'm so glad you're okay. Fuck." He said with tears running down his face as he held her hand right continuously kissing your hand. You smiled weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel...okay. A little sore. But I'm glad to see you. I thought I'd never see you again" His eyes filled with tears as he leaned in and lifted you gently into his arms, holding you close to him. "Oh, baby don't say that. I would never let anything happen to you." he said, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I should have been here. I should have been there to protect you. I can't believe this happened." You stroked his cheek and smiled reassuringly. "It's not your fault, Henry. It was an accident. I'm just glad you're here now." He just held you like his life depended on it. You could feel how scared he was and how he was holding onto you like a little baby. You ran your hand gently through his hair and you can already feel yourself healing. He was your medicine. He was your relief. You couldn't imagine you were holding him after almost two months and now you didn't want to let go.

Henry took a deep breath and kissed your lips, feeling overwhelmed with relief and love. "I was so scared," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know what to do. I thought I was going to lose you." Your eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him. "You're not going to lose me," she said, your voice soft but firm. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I love you, Henry and you're stuck with me." You said giggling a little through your tears. His heart swelled with love and emotion as he looked down at you. "I love you so much more my princess. God I love you so much more..." he said, his voice thick with emotion. For a few moments, you just held each other, lost in your love and relief. You can feel how his heart has now picked a softer pace. He needed you as much as you needed him.

Later, he pulled back a little, looking at you with concern. "What happened?" he asked. "How did this happen?" You knew you were gonna get in trouble if you answered this. You just smiled weakly but he asked again as you sighed. "I remember losing control of the car...and then hitting the tree. After that, everything is a blur. But I'm okay now and so much better with you here." You said trying to glaze everything with hope and happiness, in hopes that he won't get mad at you. He hated your age old secondhand car and had strictly asked you to take the new ones he has parked up for you. He even offered to drive his Aston Martin around. But you loved this car, it was the first thing you bought with your own money. Although he was right, this car had served you enough, and now just something you should be keeping for sentimental value.

He looked at you with narrowed eyes. "How many times have I asked you to stay away from this junk? What if I had lost you today? Hun?" He snapped. He was now angry but you expected this. He was worried for you and he was right, this car almost took your life today. "I'm sorry Henry. I won't do it again" You say politely pulling him in a hug as he immediately melts down and nuzzles his head in your hair. "I know baby, I'm sorry to get mad at you, but I almost thought I lost you today. I was so scared, and I have told you so many times to dump that car. I just.. I wanted to save your from exactly this." He said softly now gently rubbing your back and kissing your head and shoulders. "I'm so sorry baby, I promise I won't do it again. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I love you." You say stroking his cheek and leaning in to kiss him.

You were kissing him after two months and it felt like tasting heaven. He was your medicine. His words, his touch, his kisses, everything healed you. He healed you and you wanted nothing more. Henry smiled through the kiss and hugged you tightly, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. "I love you too, my princess," he said. "I love you more than anything. And I'm never going to let anything happen to you again."

____

A/N: Please send in your fic requests! Asks Open!

#domhenrycavill #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavill #henry cavill one shot #henry+cavill+fluff #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x female ofc #henry cavill x short!reader #henry+cavill+smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill angst #henry cavill smut #lovinghenrycavill #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill+fluff #henry Cavill+ angst

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lazycats-stuff · 8 months

Note

Hey, I just read the reader that was raised to be perfect but can I request a second part? Where the reader is trying to break out of those bad habits of pushing himself too hard after Bruce has full custody? For example he still practices dance with a pretty bad injury (muscular or muscle tear).

Hope it’s not a bother or anything, love your writing. I am just so nervous ab sending the request 😭

Sure, and don't be nervous about sending a request, this is not a judging place. This is a nice place for everyone.

Summary: (Y/N) is trying to let go of the perfection. It's not going well.

Batfamily & male!reader - part 1

Warnings: dancing through injury, trying to let go of perfection, Bruce being a good father,

After going through a messy and a rather vicious custody battle, Bruce got sole custody of (Y/N). His mom got supervised visits, but she moved. She didn't want to see her son anymore and even worse, she didn't want him.

Bruce nearly ripped her head off when he heard it, but he stayed calm for (Y/N). He was just happy that she left (Y/N)'s life and took her toxicity away from all of them.

It made Bruce smirk at the thought of the way she conducted herself in court and the things she has admitted in court. Why? It was all public and the press was very interesting. Bruce had no problem with this battle being public. He had nothing to hide.

The only thing that the press didn't show was (Y/N)'s face, considering that he was still a minor. Bruce asked the press to keep his face out of the public circulation because this wasn't easy for him. Thankfully, the public listened and the press didn't want to be in a lawsuit with them.

The others were extremely happy that his mother was gone. After hearing the comment she made at the recital, Jason wanted to kill him. Damian was with him on that and Bruce for a moment wanted to let them, but chose not to.

(Y/N) didn't want any trouble too.

But trouble always finds him.

During his practice with Stephanie something happened to his ankle. He felt something tear and he begged for someone to take him to the hospital. Bruce listened to him and they rushed to the hospital.

Doctors were quick to look at his ankle. There was a muscle tear and (Y/N) nearly cried in the room when he heard it. No. Bruce was scratching (Y/N)'s hair, trying to ease his anxiety.

But what nearly broke (Y/N) was the fact that he had to rest for a couple of weeks. This is every dancer's nightmare. Every single one. And dancer who is passionate about their craft would hate to rest for a couple of weeks.

Bruce had to let others know about the doctor's orders.

The first week of recovery was going well. But it was still early to tell. Bruce told Stephanie to look out for (Y/N) trying to practice. Stephanie agreed with Bruce and the duo worked together.

(Y/N) would glare at his ankle from his bed and if he tried to stand on it, it would hurt, but he could manage. He felt lazy just laying around and he felt like he was regressing instead of getting better.

So what did he do?

He sneaked into the ballet room that Bruce put in the manor. Nobody was there to make sure that the room was empty. He stretched before hand and started dancing. After a while, the pain got dull and he managed to push it away.

What he didn't hear was Bruce walking in, nearly getting a heart attack from the shock.

" (Y/N)! You are supposed to be resting! " Bruce said, walking up to his son.

" I can't rest! "

" You have to. Your body needs to rest. " Bruce said, now more calmly. Yelling won't solve shit.

" Oh really? Do you rest when you are injured? "

" Yes. With heavy heart I do rest. " Bruce said, picking (Y/N) up to not put more pressure on his ankle.

" (Y/N), you don't have to push yourself hard. Everyone needs rest. " Bruce said as he walked to (Y/N)'s room. " I don't know what your mother has told you, but you are human. There is no such thing as perfection. " Bruce said, opening the door of (Y/N)'s bedroom.

" I know. But habits die hard. " (Y/N) stated as Bruce laid him down on the bed.

" And that's why you are here. You can always talk to us about it. " Bruce said, moving some of (Y/N)'s hair out of his eyes. " We will be with you every step of the way. "

(Y/N) nodded and Bruce gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. " And if you get out of bed again to practice, I will throw you into the sun. "

(Y/N) laughed quietly as Bruce left. Sure thing.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #batfamily

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spicyclover · 1 year

Text

Show me your scar

Summary: Being teammates isn’t always the easiest thing in the world.

Request

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

I'm open to requests.

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

Rivalry and challenge have always been the words to describe your relationship with Daniel. Never giving up. No matter the cause. No matter the consequence. He’s one of the tops of the top drivers, and you can’t afford to lose another race. It’s almost the middle of the season, and you’re way behind him.

You can’t sleep or eat as you should. All those worries and pressure put you in a state you can’t imagine. It’s eating you alive, even though you try to keep healthier habits. Seeing him perform more than you is painful. Eating less. Putting more hours in the sim or at the gym. You can’t even remember the last time you went out with friends.

You hate being the second driver. It’s a fact. We are at the Canadian Grand Prix, and you’re about to go in your car for the race. Your weekend has been worst than ever. You couldn’t or barely do the practice season since your vehicle had a mechanical problem. You have qualified in P12, way behind your teammates who are in P6.

Sat in the car, you’ve been focusing on your race. You haven’t eaten in a day and are throwing up everything you put in your mouth out of stress. You’re dehydrated, but the doctor cleared you for the race. You can feel the lack of sleep and food getting to you, but you suppress those feelings to focus. You need to focus. All you need to do is set your mind and mind to win and be better than him.

You do the formation lap, and the race begins. The first corner is the worst. Everyone turns around. And already two cars are hitting each other, causing a lot of debris to spread out on the track. You get through the dust cloud and are a little further away. A yellow flag is automatically displayed, and your engineer informs you as best he can of the situation. Three cars are off the grid, so you’re three places ahead on the grid. You’re no longer twelfth but ninth, three places to your number-one rival.

The red flag is on, and you all get behind the safety car and back to the pit. Once in the pits, everyone is allowed to get out of their vehicle, as the red flag may take several minutes.

Okay, here is the thing about Daniel. Is the best teammate in the world outside the track. Always been friendly and compassionate. He likes you. It’s a fact. Being the first woman in a long time in a formula one car and being his teammate is the dream for Daniel. So when you’re out of your monoplace, he’s already by your side, debriefing the incident.

“What a crazy start,” he says with his sexy Australian accent. “It was just pure chaos. I saw it in my mirrors. It’s a good thing you haven’t been it.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, eager to get away from him.

You like Daniel, he’s a great person, don’t let anyone fool you. But you can’t let the fact of being his teammate and being the less competitive one is so hard on you. You just can’t let things go, and every time, sometimes happens, you can’t let it go. You've always been like this. Making no difference between the race track and off-track. So even though you like him, you just can let things go. At some point, you just stop talking about anything and let him do all the talking.

Well, in fact, one night in Monaco, you allowed yourself a little party and ended up being drunk in a boat, almost falling out off the ship and into the Mediterranean. Thanks to Daniel, who passed by and caught you in time. You were in his arms when you started mumbling all you had in your heart. Letting your bag go and saying what’s been bothering you.

“You know. I hate being the second driver. You have all the glory and everything because the car is designed for you. What am I left with? Scrubs. It’s suck. I’ve been sick for three weeks now because I just can’t deal with my shit.” You cried on his shirt. “I don’t want to be second.”

He brought you back to your hotel room and stayed with you. Listening carefully to everything you’ve said to him. He knew this feeling of being second too well, and he couldn’t do anything to improve it for you. Before returning to his apartment, he brushes your hair and puts your pyjamas on.

You didn’t talk about this after. And a year has passed, and you’ve been in the same situation again. Making yourself sick to be at your best performance. The red flag is over, and you all drive off to race.

Your laps are getting good, and you feel good about the car. You managed to get behind, Daniel. Finally, you’re getting in the groove. Your laps are getting better than Daniel, and the team order Daniel to let you through. You’re in the long straight to the last corner. After insisting quite a bit, Daniel let you through at the last moment, making a dangerous move.

Your wheels lock up, and you’re enabled to finish your turn. You are going straight to the champion wall, full speed and no brake. The back of Daniel's car damaged your front wings, which blocked your brake and locked up the wheels. You don’t even have time to think you hit the first wall. Part of the barrier flies around, and you feel something touching your chest.

The second wall came quickly as the first one. You can feel pressure on your chest, and you have difficulty breathing. You can hear on the radio your engineers calling your name. You want to say something, but the words are stuck in your throat.

After that, you don’t remember much. Everything is blurred. You are in great pain and somehow hear Daniel's voice calling your name. Then you black out.

The first thing you hear when you wake up. It’s the rhythm of the monitor. Then you smell sanitizer. When you can open your eyes. You are met with the worried looks of your family. And then everything became a blur. The doctor's announcement. The end of your career. The beginning of this new rehabilitation. The world kept turning, but you felt stuck in your bed. Well, you are stuck in bed. Time flies, and the vacation finally arrives. You’ve been discharged, and you went back home to the UK.

It’s the first in three months that you and Daniel will see each other again. At first, you’ve been angry at him, wondering why he made that move. When he enters your apartment, a weird silence takes place. Neither of you knows what to say to the other. Deep down, you must keep your mind open and calm to any outcome. So when you see how uncomfortable he has been, you can’t help yourself to hug him. A weight is lifted from your shoulder and Daniels. Something forgiveness is the way to find peace.

You converse for quite a while, talking about everything other than racing. It’s been long since you opened up to him that way. Making yourself vulnerable again, just like at the beginning of this journey. Really being friends with him.

“Show me your scar.” He says tenderly after seeing you scratching through the fabric of your shirt.

You take your top off, showing yourself in your sports bra. He sees it for the first time. This scar on your chest’s forever grave in your skin because of his mistake is like a fantom reminder of his action toward you. His gaps silently.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, tears in his eyes.

“I’ll heal.” You simply say, putting your shirt back on.

“Scars don’t disappear.”

“No. But they heal, and I think I need to heal now.” You say, stocking his cheek and removing a few tears from his eyes. “I’ll be better, and it’s time I care for myself.”

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #Daniel Ricciardo fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fluff

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try-set-me-on-fire · 7 months

Note

Bed hair for the soft prompts if it inspires :3

@zahlibeth also asked for this one! On ao3 here!

It's easy to rely on habit in times of crisis. It’s been a long while since Athena has been put on security detail but her body still sinks into it, easy. Think of a grocery list, or a mediocre book you read, or try to remember all the rules of Risk — something to keep you from inattentive boredom, but not something so engaging you’ll be distracted. Feet a little apart, legs stiff but not locked, settle into your own bones because you’ll be here awhile.

It’s wrong, though, because if she were actually working she’d be in uniform, and she’d be by the door facing out instead of across the hall looking in, and she’d never be assigned to this room. She isn’t a doctor, there aren’t any hard and fast rules about family members, but any captain worth a damn would bench her for being too close to the situation to keep a clear head.

In the room, Eddie Diaz sets a plastic grocery store bag down on Evan Buckley’s bed. Buck shifts his thigh just a little to make room for it, gazing up at his friend with a smile that Athena can’t quite manage to look at without hurting. Every smile on that boy’s face since he woke up has hurt, for reasons Athena can’t quite explain to herself. Bobby has been shaking with relief, giddy with it, grinning down at the kid in awe whenever he’s in the room. Maybe that’s it; while Buck was unconscious she was needed as a rock, she had to be the solid foundation everyone could build themselves around. It’s okay now. Buck is awake — alive — and still sore, still not well, but he’s going to be okay. They can all relax. But here she is, standing guard, because everyone is alright and she can take her turn giving into paranoia and catastrophe.

She doesn’t think that’s quite it, though. It’s… she’s having trouble with the timeline. The facts of the case don’t feel like they’re adding up right, though she knows they’re true. Sunday afternoon: Evan Buckley was at the home of Robert Nash and Athena Grant. He was there for lunch. He sat at the kitchen table and he laughed, and he smiled. Monday night: Evan Buckley, in the regular course of his job, climbed a ladder to aid in putting out a fire in an apartment building. He was struck by lightning, and he died. Bobby, the one time she convinced him to come home and sleep in a bed, wept that he had again held the body of his son. Thursday morning: After four days in a coma fighting organ failure and other yet unknown effects of being hit by 300 million volts of electricity, Evan Buckley woke up. He woke up. He laughed with his father, with the rest of his family. He smiled, bright as he always has.

He smiled, he died, he’s smiling again. That’s what happened, indisputable, but each part of it feels wrong, feels tainted by the central event. How could he have smiled so happily on Sunday, when that was going to happen the next day? How can he smile so happily now that it has? He was in her house. She shouldn’t have let him leave.

“Alright,” Eddie says, pulling wet wipes, a spray bottle, various other things out of the bag. “I’m not gonna lie to you; after a few days of this your hair is going to feel as disgusting as it does now just in new and exciting ways, but hopefully by then you’ll be home. Or- at least they’ll let you take a real shower.”

Buck laughs, running a finger over the spines of a hair brush. “Dude, anything will be better than this. I feel like I’m made of grease.” He reaches a hand up — to run it through his limp hair, maybe — but winces and lowers it carefully again. Athena holds her breath yards away as Eddie freezes, minutely, just a tiny second of stillness before he’s smiling and opening the wipes.

“Well,” Eddie says, voice just as cheerful as before, “Luckily for you I am a master of the unsatisfying hospital hair cleaning routine.”

Buck almost giggles, shoulders wiggling like the way a child laughs. “Oh, please, show me your ways.”

Eddie holds up the wipe first. “Sorry this smells so flowery, but it’s the wettest brand of wipes I‘ve found.” He starts to hand the damp square to Buck, but hesitates. “Uh- I was going to let you- but it’ll be uncomfortable for- do you want me to just…”

“Sure,” Buck smiles. “I trust you.”

Eddie only made it in the room once while Buck was out, as far as Athena is aware. He’d haunted the hall like a ghost or a watchdog, though she supposes she’s not really one to talk while she’s posted out here. She watches as he directs Buck to scoot closer and stands as far to the back of the bed as he can get so he’s sort of behind Buck. She wonders if he’ll hesitate to touch him. She did. Since he woke up nearly 24 hours ago she has put a hand on his shoulder, once. It had been warm. He’d been moving, a little, half dead and even then unable to keep still. Eddie squeezes the wipe above Buck’s head, dripping faintly floral dampness, and then starts moving the cloth around his curls, and he doesn’t hesitate at all. Athena breathes in and out. Not half dead, she reminds herself. Mostly living.

Buck isn’t moving much now. He looks utterly relaxed as Eddie cleans away days of hospital grime. The man is so gentle about it, movements incredibly soft and slow, a hand supporting Buck’s head any time he needs to reposition to get at a new spot. She’d assumed this is a trick he’d learned after getting shot, but wonders now if this is an older skill, perfected on his child’s curls after any of Christopher’s hospital stays.

“Alright,” Eddie says, several discarded wipes later. He sets the last one on the mattress with a little flourish. “Step one complete.”

Buck opens eyes that drifted shut at some point, laughing quietly. “God, I feel better already.”

“Well, now it’s time for detangling, so don’t be too happy with me yet.”

Buck snorts, gingerly passing back the hair brush. “I’ll be brave, do your worst.”

Buck can’t see Eddie’s face with the way he’s standing, but Athena has a clear view. Sort of sad, kind of frightened. Athena is suddenly sure that he’s only ever going to do his absolute best for the man in the bed before him. “Okay,” he says, a warning before he starts, and she’s surprised that his voice doesn’t shake.

He begins with his fingers, pulling them so very carefully through the knotted strands, and it’s so intimate that Athena looks away on instinct. She counts all the chairs she can see in the waiting room, she reads all the signs on the walls. She doesn’t look in the room again until Buck speaks.

“Thank you.” He’s looking up at Eddie, neck craned as he tilts his head back, and she knows all the jokes about our Buckaroo, resident golden retriever, but it makes her think of a cat she had when she was younger. The tiny thing would plaster herself to your side and lean her head back up against you, so much love in her gaze you couldn’t help but smile back. Eddie smiles back, now.

“It’s no problem, Buck.”

“I can still thank you,” Buck says as Eddie leans over him to grab the spray bottle. Dry shampoo. He mists Buck’s head with it, ruffling his hair to get it evenly coated. “It’s polite.”

Eddie laughs, and Athena hadn’t realized his laughter before had been a little muted. “You don’t have to be polite to me.”

Buck grins. “Fine. Gel me up, peon.”

Eddie laughs again, loud and cackly, as he grabs the last tub from the bag. “Yes, sir. I got a pomade, it’s a little lighter than your normal stuff so hopefully the build up won’t feel so bad.”

“Okay.”

Eddie moves so he can see Buck’s face again, working the product into his hair and doing some light styling. The pomade doesn’t have much hold, his curls remain more prominent than they usually are, but he looks cleaner, a little neater, and definitely happier once Eddie is finished.

“There you are.” Eddie says, sitting back down in the chair pulled up to Buck’s bedside. He raises a pointed eyebrow, lips curved into a smirk. “Remember to leave a five star yelp review.”

Buck throws his head back in laughter, and Eddie sways forward into the orbit of it. The look on his face is- he’s lovestruck. She’d wondered about that — with more and more frequency lately, every story from Buck starting and ending with the other man — but she doesn’t know Eddie as well as some of the others on Bobby’s team and hadn’t wanted to assume. There is no doubt, though, looking at him now. Strangely, it makes Athena feel a little better. She definitely hadn’t known Eddie when his wife had passed but she knows it happened. She remembers Emmet, thinks of Marcy. Michael, and then Bobby. Buck and Eddie. The timeline — smiles, death, smiling again — is one she knows, after all, just in a different context, on a longer timeline.

When Buck leans forward again after his guffaw Eddie hasn’t moved back, so they end up very close to each other, matching grins reflecting between them. Eddie spots a bit of product near Buck’s temple and reaches up with a thumb to wipe it away, and it’s such a casual gesture until, suddenly, Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. When he falls apart he does it with a swift efficiency that something in Athena admires. His face shatters, his whole body slumps forward like a puppet with cut strings, a sob rattles up out of him with no preamble.

Buck’s eyes are wide, but he doesn’t necessarily look surprised. “Oh, Eddie…” he breathes, leaning even closer on his pillow.

“S-sorry,” Eddie gasps, scrubbing at his face like the touch of his palm will put him back together, sucking in air to try and stop the weeping. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Buck’s tone is so gentle, so patient. Athena realizes she still thinks of him as a kid — a fool kid much of the time — but he doesn’t seem so young as he rests a calm hand on Eddie’s arm.

“For- I- I shouldn’t fall apart like this.”

“Why not?” Buck asks, laughing just a little. “You know I was a mess when you- it’s fine, Eds.”

“But-“

“You want me to forgive you?” Buck asks, eyebrows raised, a look on his face like he’d wanted the same, once. “I will. You’re forgiven.”

“I couldn’t- I couldn’t-“ Eddie takes a few more shuddering breaths and Buck just waits him out. “I couldn’t come in here. You were in here and I couldn’t- I left you alone.”

“I forgive you,” Buck says, easy as anything. Eddie’s face pinches up again, and he shakes his head sort of desperately even as Buck’s hand soothes up and down between wrist and elbow.

“I broke your ribs,” he says, voice cracking like the bones must have under his frantic compressions.

Buck’s free hand travels to his chest, and his fingers tap a little heartbeat rhythm there. “I forgive you, Eddie.”

“I love you,” Eddie says, in a voice Athena has heard in interrogation rooms and the priest’s box after Sunday mass. Buck’s inhale can’t be very loud, but she hears it all the way from the hall.

“I’m not forgiving you for that,” he says, a little winded but very firm. He sits up in his bed, ignoring Eddie’s worried hands hovering around him as he puts his own on either side of Eddie’s face. “I’m not- please, don’t apologize for that.”

“Sorry- I- I mean-“ Eddie smiles like he can’t help it as Buck’s gentle amused huff hits his face, even as tears still stream across his skin. “I won’t. I just wish I’d told you sooner.”

“You can tell me now,” Buck says, sliding a thumb over Eddie’s wet cheek. “Again. You can tell me again, and- and tomorrow, and the next day- I’m right here. It’s not too late, Eddie. I’m right here.”

Eddie nods, breathing unevenly again, and then they sort of fall into each other, holding and being held, so carefully but tight enough that Athena isn’t sure of the force it would take to pull them apart again. She inhales long and exhales slow. She can sort of see Buck’s face, smiling into Eddie’s shoulder, and it still hurts but she can maybe see how it might not, eventually. Right here, and tomorrow and the next day. He’ll still be in the hospital for a little while but- maybe, when he’s settled back at home, he’d like to come over for lunch.

Athena stands up straight, takes one last long look, and leaves Buck in safe hands.

#my writing #brick classic…. dropping fic in the dead of night….#athena grant #Buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc

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firstkanaphans · 3 months

Note

i have this habit of reading ao3 before i sleep or i just won't get sleep (yeah i am a teenager with effed up sleep habits)

and i realised that there are not enough sickfics in the firstkhao fandom 😭😭 like there are a few under akkaye but nothing under sandray (i don't remember if there is anything under alangaipa cause there is probably nothing)

so obviously i have a request to my fav writer which is PLEASE GIVE ME SICKFICS DJDNDNNSJDND

the absolute tenderness of looking after your lover, trying to shield them from it all and them just clinging on to you... I WILL CRY

i would love to read any sickfic from you, be it any fk couple. hope you dont mind this request <3

Anon, I really hope you're still around to read this because I know it's been ages since you requested it, but look! I wrote you a SandRay sick!fic. I hope you enjoy 💕 Word Count: 2227

Ray was sick. Or, well, he had been.

For days he had been fighting off a bad case of the flu and although he had a tendency to become extra stubborn when he was ill, Sand took care of him without argument. He cooked Ray delicious homemade soup, washed the sweat from his body so that he wouldn’t get a chill, and made sure he never missed a dose of his medicine.

At the height of his illness, Ray had found Sand’s unwavering attention annoying since all he wanted to do was sleep, but now, as the fever started to abate, he realized just how lucky he had been. It didn’t seem fair that all of that attention had been wasted when Ray wasn’t alert enough to appreciate it. So even though he was feeling better, he pretended that he wasn’t.

He was sitting in bed propped up on a mountain of pillows when Sand walked into the room that night with his evening meds. Ray gave him a wobbly smile and then immediately dissolved into a coughing fit that was only half for show.

Sand frowned, setting the glass of water and pills he was carrying down onto Ray’s bedside table before climbing onto the mattress with him, his hand raised to feel Ray’s forehead. Ray just watched him, wide-eyed and innocent. He knew his cheeks were flushed, but it wasn’t from fever. He had spent the past couple minutes pinching them hard enough to color his skin. He wanted it to look convincing.

“You’re not feeling any better?” Sand asked, dropping his hand back to his side. “You look better. Whenever I touched you before, you would just yell and swat me away.”

“I feel a little better,” Ray allowed, blinking at his boyfriend owlishly.

“Well, if you’re not feeling a lot better by tomorrow, we may need to go back to the doctor. I’m worried about you.”

“There’s no need to worry,” Ray said, pulling on Sand’s arm so that he was forced to sit down on the bed next to him. “I’m fine!”

If this had been a normal day, Sand probably would have rolled his eyes, but because Ray was sick, he didn’t. He just wrapped his arm around Ray’s shoulders and held him tight. Although Ray liked their usual teasing banter, he liked this too. He liked being spoiled. He liked that Sand had been staying home to take care of him instead of running off to a bunch of different jobs he didn’t need. He liked how his illness sanded down Sand’s rough edges. He liked that at their essence, this was what they were: soft and in love. “Do we have any more ice cream?”

Sand dutifully brought Ray a bowl of ice cream and they spent the night cuddling in bed watching movies. Ray knew it was destined to be his last night of sick leave; in the morning, he would be forced to make a miraculous recovery. But, he had to admit, it was time.

Ray woke up with the sun only to find that Sand was still asleep next to him, which was odd. Sand was an early riser. Figuring he was simply exhausted from the days spent taking care of Ray, Ray leaned in to kiss him on the forehead only to find that he was burning up.

Ray pulled back in alarm, quickly replacing his lips with his hand, but the result was no better. Sand was sweltering hot to the touch. Too hot. Right? Ray wasn’t sure. He had never had to diagnose anyone before.

“Sand?” he said, shaking his boyfriend frantically. Sand would know what to do. Sand always did. “Sand, wake up. I think you’re sick!”

Sand very clearly did not want to wake up. He rolled away from Ray, buried his head underneath the covers, and started coughing. “Just bring me some medicine,” he said, his voice muffled. “I’ll be fine.”

Ray hopped out of bed immediately, determined to get the medicine for him as fast as possible, but it was only as he was standing alone in the middle of the room that he realized he had no idea where the medicine was kept. They had moved into this apartment together only a few weeks before. It would have been sooner, but Sand took some convincing because the apartment was technically way out of his budget.

In the end, Ray had worn him down, but Sand had adamantly refused to spend the extra money on movers, so they had done everything themselves. Or, well, Sand had. Ray had thanked him with copious amounts of blowjobs. It had seemed like a good system at the time, but now he had no idea where anything was.

He wandered into the bathroom and began looking through cabinets, figuring that was the most likely place for medicine to be, and eventually he found a couple bottles that looked familiar. They were empty.

Ray ran back into the bedroom, waving the bottles around frantically. “Sand, I think we’re out. What do I do now? Sand?” Sand was apparently too delirious to answer him. He wasn’t yet asleep, but his only response to Ray’s voice was a pained groan. Ray stared down at the bottles in his hand hoping that if he wished hard enough, they would simply refill themselves. But of course they didn’t.

It was then that Ray remembered Sand offering him a handful of pills the night before that Ray had only pretended to take since he was only pretending to be sick. He rushed over to his bedside table and pulled the pills out of his drawer.

“Sand, here,” he said excitedly, coming around to his side of the bed with a glass of water. “You need to take these.”

With some gentle coaxing, he was eventually able to get Sand to sit up and take the pills, but he looked horrible and collapsed back down onto the mattress immediately. Ray just stared at him helplessly, trying to figure out what in the world he was supposed to do next.

He thought about calling Sand’s mom or his own dad or, hell, Mew—literally anyone who might be able to help—but his pride stopped him from actually picking up the phone. Sand had taken care of him for nearly a week without any help at all. Surely, Ray could do the same.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to think. The first thing he needed to do was buy more medicine.

“Sand? Sand?” he asked, shaking his boyfriend’s limp body. He had planned to ask whether Sand would be okay alone for a few minutes while he ran to the store, but Sand didn’t respond. He was fast asleep. In the end, Ray decided to go. He changed clothes, made sure Sand’s phone and a glass of water were easily within his reach, and then promised he would be back in fifteen minutes. As he stepped out their front door, he couldn’t help but think Sand would probably be better off alone than in his inept care.

Ray realized his first mistake within minutes: he had not taken a picture of the meds he needed to replace. When he reached the pharmacy right around the corner from their apartment, he was immediately overwhelmed by the options and he had no clue what Sand needed. He tried googling it only to become overwhelmed again, but in the end, a nice older lady helped him pick out a couple things she thought would be useful and Ray threw a few extras into his basket as well. Just in case.

When he returned home, Sand hadn’t moved, but he was shivering and covered in sweat, so Ray grabbed a washcloth and a basin of water and did his best to clean him. It wasn’t as easy as Sand made it look. His motions were clumsy and he felt sure that if Sand were conscious enough to know what was happening, he would have laughed at his efforts.

After that, Ray bundled Sand back into bed and headed into the kitchen to make soup for the first time in his life. On the night Ray had first fallen ill, Sand had made him a pot of soup that tasted so good he had devoured it within a day. It was Sand’s mom’s recipe and she claimed it had healing powers. Ray didn’t doubt it. Sand told him his mom’s soup was the one bright spot of getting sick. That it almost made the whole thing worth it. So Ray knew he needed to make it for Sand, too.

He had texted Sand’s mom and picked up the ingredients while he was out, but now that he was staring at them spread out over the counter, he felt less confident about his ability to recreate the recipe. There was nothing he could do about that now. He sighed and got started chopping the vegetables. Badly. Sand did most of the cooking in their house. Ray was starting to realize that Sand did most of everything.

Hours later, the finished soup was simmering on the stove and Ray smelled like a Thai restaurant. He quickly hopped in the shower, washing off the last vestiges of his own illness and the evidence of his poor cooking, and then headed back to the bedroom where Sand was still asleep. He held his hand out to feel Sand's forehead and although his body temperature felt more normal than before, he was still shivering.

Ray didn’t know what else to do so, feeling helpless, he simply laid by his boyfriend’s side and wrapped his arms around him, praying that the worst of it would soon go away. Was this what it had felt like for Sand to watch him be sick over the past week? Had Ray only prolonged that pain by pretending he wasn’t well?

The shivering stopped. They both fell asleep.

Ray was awoken some time later by Sand moving in his arms. He sat up immediately, ready to run and fetch whatever Sand needed to feel better, but when Sand finally opened his eyes, he no longer looked pained. Just tired.

“Are you okay?” Ray asked, reaching for Sand’s face as if searching for an injury he already knew didn’t exist. “What do you need? Medicine? Water? Food? I made soup!”

Ray was cursing himself for not setting alarms for Sand’s medicine the way Sand had done for him when Sand gave him a weak smile. “You made soup?” he teased and that, at least, told Ray the medicine was working.

“I did!” Ray insisted.

“Well then some soup might be nice.”

So Ray hopped out of bed and prepared a bowl of soup for Sand. When he returned to the bedroom, he found Sand already sitting propped up on a couple pillows, taking better care of himself than Ray had taken of him.

“You look better,” he said.

“I feel better,” Sand agreed.

“I’m sorry I got you sick.”

Sand shrugged. “It was bound to happen. Now about this soup…”

Ray refused to pass Sand the bowl, scared he might drop it, but he dutifully scooped a spoonful of Tom Yum out and offered it to him. Sand sniffed it hesitantly before taking a bite.

The soup had barely touched his tongue before his whole face scrunched up in distaste. He quickly tried to school his features, but it was too late. Such an extreme reaction was hard to miss.

“What’s wrong?” Ray asked, trying a bite himself. All he could taste was salt. He made the same face Sand had and suddenly, he felt like he was going to cry.

“Oh, don't cry,” Sand said, taking the bowl from him, setting it down on the bedside table, and then pulling him into a hug. Even though Ray was no longer sick and certainly didn’t deserve the comfort, he let himself be held anyway.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m such a crappy boyfriend. You took such good care of me for a whole week and I can’t even make you a pot of soup without fucking it up. I haven’t even been sick these past couple days. I’ve just been pretending so you would pay more attention to me!”

“Oh, baby. I know.”

That was enough to stop Ray’s tears. “You do?”

“Of course I do. You’re not a very good liar. But look, it’s fine. It’s the thought that counts,” he said, running his fingers through Ray’s hair. Surprisingly, that was all it took to calm him down.

“I’ll get better,” Ray promised, leaning his head on Sand’s shoulder. “And I’ll order you more soup from that place you like.”

“You’re doing fine,” Sand soothed. “Just stay here with me. That’s all I need. You’re all I need.”

Ray laid with his head on Sand’s chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” he said because that was the one thing he knew he could provide. He had more than enough love to give.

Sand smiled and kissed the top of his head. “I love you too.”

#only friends the series #only friends fanfic #sandray #sandray fanfic #sarah writes things #fun fact: while i was writing this fic i learned that tom yum actually does have healing powers #apparently the capsaicin in the peppers boosts immune response #i have a master’s degree in nutrition 🙃

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gabessquishytum · 4 months

Note

Sorry for a non-horny request lol, but I am going crazy with this idea. This is not exactly romantic but it's upto you if you want to make it such.

Warning: major character death

Morpheus de Endless, is a grumpy old man, who has a number of health issues. He also happens to be a best selling author of all time but he does have some controversies surrounding him, most notedly his high profile divorce with a famous artist with whom he had a son but the baby died only a year later. It is said that Mr. De Endless excused himself from his public life after this incident, still that didn’t stop him from suffering a lot under Rodrick Burgess in whose publishing company he worked. Now, at the age of 65, Morpheus de Endless is an isolated man who only lets his doctor visit him once a week.

And then, his family decides that he needs a caretaker. A decision Morpheus absolutely hates because he can take care of himself, but still a care taker is hired. On Monday morning, a young man, probably in his late 20s or early 30s comes to his mansion and takes on all the responsibilities with ease. He is incharge of all the medicines, food (though Morpheus barely eats, taking Morpheus to parks to feed the birds and other things.

Morpheus doesn't like this new man, but he cannot argue with his elder sister about it anymore so he just settles on grumply leaving left over food on his plate or intentionally not having medicines.

Meanwhile, Hob is astonished by this man. It was as if a 10 year old lived in the body of a 60 something man. And Hob was trying really hard to make Mr. De Endless take care of himself, to keep himself alive. Because Hob knew, in fact on the first glance he knew, that Morpheus de Endless didn’t want to live anymore. So he tries his best.

Then one day, he blows up on Mr. De Endless, shouting that the man should at least try to look on the brighter side, to at least maintain a schedule instead of killing his body slowly everyday. And Morpheus understands miraculously. He doesn't like it, but to just make Hob’s job easier he improves his habits a bit. From here, things start getting easier, Morpheus genuinely enjoyes his trip to the park with Hob and even those conversations in the silence of the night in the comfort of his home office where Hob tells him about a family he had lost long ago and in return Morpheus tells him about his son, whom he dearly misses.

Now, here, either we can go for happy ending, or a bitter-sweet one. Personally I am all for some bitter-sweet cake so here we go: one morning, Morpheus wakes up and steals Hob’s bicycle. He has a camera with him which he used a lot in his youth and he uses it now after years to capture the beauty of modern London. He had not explored London like this in 20 years and his heart is full for the first time after losing his child. He also uses a pay phone to call his younger brother who lives in a separate country and they have a heartfelt conversation.

Then he returns home at evening only to be reprimanded by Hob and his elder sister for disappearing like that but Morpheus honestly doesn't mind. When the next morning Hob checks up on him he finds Morpheus dead in his bed. Of course a whole day of cycling for a man with heart conditions is bad news. But he did leave a letter behind for Hob, thanking him for making his last days better than ever.

Ah, thank you for sharing this with me!! It's such a sweet story. I really do love the idea of Hob being this positive spark in Morpheus’s life. He's retreated in on himself, grown used to being alone and become a little resentful of a world that doesn't seem to want him. Then Hob comes in with his stories, his gentle routine and his all around youthfulness. Morpheus finds it annoying: Hob is loud, careless, a little selfish. But then one day Hob has him sit down and flick through his old photos. And Morpheus recollects that he was also once loud, careless and selfish when he was young. He starts cutting Hob some slack, and Hob in turn also becomes more patient. He learns not to be frustrated by Morpheus’s moods, to be kind instead. They find things in common instead of bickering. Sometimes Hob stays the night with Morpheus and they talk about everything, or just fall asleep together. There's love between them now, and it really doesn't matter what kind of love. They both needed it.

Poor Hob. Losing Morpheus is so unexpected, because he was sure that despite his frailty he would live a little longer. He could have had 20 years. Hob sits with the birds and just cries and cries because he loves Morpheus so much and they barely even had a year together.

But he has the camera, and that evidence of Morpheus’s last day. Pictures of strangers and buildings and pigeons. They all mean so much and they're bursting with love. Hob will hang onto those. And he's not sure if and when, but one day he'll hold Morpheus’s hand again, and they'll look at the pictures together.

#the sandman #dreamling #cw major character death #cw grief

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trailblazethegalaxy · 6 months

Text

Can't Sleep ~ *Blade*

Summary: Though Blade can heal on his own, he comes to you looking for a mysterious cure. It's a problem you can't seem to fix. But for him, you're willing to try...

Pairing: Blade X G/N!Reader

Genre: Angstyish Drabble

Word Count: 827

Warning: Blade might be a little OOC? Also I think this feels rushed...

Masterlist

A/N: Part Two can be found here.

"I heard you've been having trouble sleeping again." You mumble to yourself as you try to busy yourself with the medicine cabinet in front of you.

From behind you, there's a grunt of frustration and you try not to sigh. "Maybe."

"Blade, that's not healthy, and you know it."

"It doesn't matter." He shoots back. "Sleep will find me eventually. It's just being elusive as of right now."

You shake your head before turning to glare at his stoic face. "Blade, I'm serious. You need to sleep. Constantly pushing yourself like this is only going to hurt you in the long run. Forgive me if I actually care about your well-being, but it's kind of my job as a doctor."

"I don't need sleep." His voice is as hard and as cracked as the blade he wields. His words cut your heart the same way a sword would. "If that's all you want to pester me about, may I go now?"

You sighed to yourself. This wasn't healthy. You knew that better than anyone as someone who's devoted their life to medicine and machinery that would prolong a life. However, Blade seemed resistant to all of your attempts to make his life easier. You knew he'd fight you as soon as the Stellaron Hunters chose you to be their doctor. You weren't asking him to stop what he was doing, but dammit, it hurt you to see he didn't care about his health and his life in general.

"Blade..." You try to think of words to tell him that you hated what he was doing to his body and that you wanted to save him. But you were much better at conveying your thoughts and feelings through actions than words. This wasn't going to work, but you were still going to try.

"Doctor." He nodded as he headed towards the door.

"I want to study your sleep habits." Well, that certainly wasn't the way to go about this, but you weren't going to take it back.

"What?"

You nod shyly. "Yeah. I want to see why you're not sleeping well and find a way to fix it."

He bared his teeth as he sneered at you. "No."

"Blade please-"

"No. I'll just tell you why." He snapped before sitting back down. "I have nightmares. Vivid, horrific nightmares that I'd rather not indulge in. So forgive me if I'd rather do my work than relive the past that never seems to settle. Unless you have some magic cure for these nightmares, I don't want to discuss my sleeping habits with you anymore."

You opened and closed your mouth a couple times as you tried to think of what to say to comfort him. You had a problem. You needed to fix it. You always fixed problems. But this was one you couldn't seem to find a solution to. It makes your heart sick with anxiety.

He scoffed at your petrified look. "Just as I suspected. A doctor with no cure. I'm done trying to seek help for a problem that will never go away. I will see you again when I need medical attention you can actually provide."

Again, he made a move to leave but you found yourself grabbing his arm harshly. He glared at you, ready to say something, when he stopped. It was probably due to the tears welling in your eyes, making them glossy and red.

"I'm sorry." You whispered and your voice broke. "I really am sorry I can't think of a way to help you right now. But that doesn't mean I won't try. I am going to try Blade. I promise you, I will find a cure for your nightmares. Some way, somehow, I will find a way so you can sleep again, even if it takes the rest of my life."

"Why?" He spat, but there wasn't the usual bite of frustration behind his words. "Why do you care so much about trying to cure my nightmares?"

"Because you have a problem and it's my job to fix it." You squeeze his hand tight as you avert your gaze. "I can't have a problem I can't fix. I WILL fix this."

He stood there for what felt like a long time. You wanted to say something more, that you wanted to fix it because you cared an awful lot about him and you wanted to prove it by fixing his nightmares. But you were never any good with words. So you hoped that he could sense it in the desperation in your voice. You were going to fix this. You hoped he understood why.

Blade sighed before he took his unoccupied hand and placed it on your head. "Good night, doctor. I hope you have pleasant dreams."

And with that, he left your office. You stood there, still frozen from what had just transpired. But you weren't sad or frustrated anymore. You knew he understood. Now the real work began.

#Honkai: Star Rail #Honkai: Star Rail Fanfiction #Honkai: Star Rail Drabble #Anime #Anime Fanfiction #Anime Drabble #Stellaron Hunters #Blade #Blade X Reader #Blade Fanfiction #Blade Drabble #Blade Angst #Doctor #Doctor AU #Drabble #Angst #Fluff

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pleaseeeimjustagirl · 5 months

Text

Your Physical Glow Up

Most of us when trying to level up are very excited to work on the physical aspect. I know I am. I'm excited about finally getting my dream body, skin, and hair. I have been working so hard this month on being intentional with my habits so I can attain my goals. So in today's blog post, I want to break down the things you should focus on to enhance your physical appearance I will be making more in-detail blog posts about each point<3.

Diet

This is the most important thing to me that we should all focus on whether you are trying to lose weight, gain weight, or maintain. Your diet can affect a lot. Having a bad diet can affect your gut health causing uncomfortable bloating it can affect your skin giving you bad acne and so many other issues. Depending on your goal try to find a diet that best fits what you're going for that can be intuitive eating, vegan, paleo, keto, or whatever other diets you might want to follow. Watch YouTube videos do your research on the diets also find out how many calories you should be eating daily. Always consult your doctor especially if you have medical issues. WATER I know some girlies aren’t big fans of water lol but you need water! I wish I could put a bigger emphasis on the need for water it's a must especially when it comes to your skin and overall body health. If you don't like drinking water you can put lemons or other fruits in your water. My favorite item to use to give my water a boost of flavor is flavored packets they sell them every where and they are very low in calories ranging from 0-10 Cals. Finally, your gut health I know you have been hearing about this all over tik tok this topic is so deep ill be making a separate post for it but yes gut health is so important it can affect our physical appearance causing us to look bloated or inflamed. So do your research on how to improve your gut health and expect a post soon <3.

Exercise

Get your body moving babe! Exercise can be fun find a form of exercise that makes you feel good and that you enjoy. I think the reason why a lot of us do not enjoy working out is because we are doing what everyone else is doing instead of doing what makes us happy. Some people might love HIIT workouts and you might like something more low-impact like pilates and the next girl could like walking 5 miles every day. Figure out what best suits you dibble and dabble in different forms of exercise. And yes I know sometimes we will have to do exercise we don’t like to get a certain look I recently started weight training at first I did not like it but now I love ittt! It makes me feel so good and I have been seeing results and the more results I see the harder I want to go in the gym. Also, you do not have to pay for memberships to be able to do pilates and yoga YouTube has a lot of amazing women who will get you right. So look at your goals figure out what aligns with them and be consistent.

Rest

Sleep is very important and the most overlooked. You need to get at least 7 hours of sleep every night. Start training your body to sleep more no more late nights. Of course, staying up here and there is understandable but you shouldn’t be staying up and going to sleep by 3 am every single day. Take it easy allow yourself to rest! Do not overwork yourself to achieve your goals. With patience, you will reach your goals in the blink of an eye, and you’ll be where you want to be.

Skincare

First figure out what skincare type you have and the type of products that are best for your skin. I have hyperpigmentation and dark spots it's not extremely bad but I do not like it and would like my skin to be one color and clear. So I did some research on what I could try to get the skin that I wanted. I recently started using Kojic acid, Cosrx, MediCube, and Neutrogena. Also, sunscreen is important for all of us to use. I'm a black girl if you haven't realized yet lol but growing up I heard black people do not need sunscreen yesss we do! I recently started getting into anti-aging skin care as well still doing my research. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be youthful you can't stop aging but you can slow it down.

These were the basic things to focus on when trying to physically level up if you want me to go more in-depth let me know. I'll be making posts on each separately over the next couple of weeks.

I'm open to any comments or private messages if you can relate and please let me know any further topics you want me to cover<3

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changingplumbob · 1 month

Text

Chopra Household: Chapter 6, Part 8

The birthday continues! Most of the family have appointments to attend afterwards leaving Savannah and Viola under the care of nana Lavina. I mean it's not like she could be any worse than Alana the (insert your favourite swear word for mean nanny)

BTW it was daylight savings here so that's why my posts may seem an hour shifted for you...

If Viola is attempting to say something it will be in brackets, otherwise you can assume it's just trying out sounds Mercedes has a speech delay and may get words wrong, correct wording will be in brackets if that is the case Savannah aka Honeybee Mercedes aka Little Ladybug Viola aka Green Bean

Mercedes: Hey nana

Lavina: Happy birthday kiddo

Mercedes: I have bad news, papa went to the doctor and they found out he’s sick

Lavina: What? Oh why didn’t he tell me? I can’t lose him

Mercedes: Kidding!

Lavina: That’s not very funny young lady

Bizarre thing happened. Mercedes had rolled a like of deception but after this got a prompt saying she felt mischief was wrong? I like the game to have some say so while I did not add a dislike of mischief I changed her like of deception to silly behaviour to match her sister.

Milton: Oh hey you have cake

Savannah: Of course Milton, it’s a birthday party

Milton: That’s uncle Milton to you

Savannah: Mama do we really have to call him uncle? He’s only 2 years older than us

Cassandra: It’s important to be polite to family honeybee

Lavina: And respectful! You girls could learn more respect

Mercedes: *sighs* It was one joke nana

Cassandra: Lavina I have an appointment and Rahul needs to take Mercedes to one. Could you watch the kids for us please?

Savannah: I can watch the house mama

Lavina: Of course I can dear, take all the time you need

Savannah: But nana I can do it

Lavina: You’re six, you couldn’t take care of a fire. Now I hear your sister crying, go play outside or learn something

Savannah: Oh maybe I can find some cool bugs!

Lavina: Just don’t bring them into the house

Poor Viola has been trying to get to sleep but is still a bit overwhelmed by the party.

Lavina: Now what’s all this? You are making a habit of crying every time you see me Viola

Viola: *cries* ge da noo lu (I'm so tired, clapping took it out of me)

Lavina: Is nana scary huh? Big bad nana. Close your eyes and sleep, big bad nana can defend your crib from the monsters huh

Following some soothing Viola does manage to fall asleep as Lavina watches over her.

Outside Savannah isn’t having much luck. But around by the garden she spots some locusts, perfect, papa will approve of catching them! She grabs at them and manages to get hold of 2. Perhaps she can convince mama and papa to take her and Mercedes to Granite Falls so she can find more! Back inside she decides to tackle some homework.

Milton: Why are you holding your pencil like that

Savannah: Like what

Alexander: Don’t be rude Milton, not everyone does things the same way

Milton: Did you never use crayons

Savannah: *gruffly* I have a motor delay actually, pencils are hard

Milton: Oh, sorry

Alexander: That’ll teach you not to be rude

Savannah: I think I’ll go see if mama is back

Milton: I am sorry!

...

Cassandra is pumping in the spare room when Savannah finds her.

Savannah: Mama, can I still go to OT now I’m a child

Cassandra: Of course you can honeybee. It might be called something different but any support you need, we’ll find for you

Savannah: Then Uncle Alexander told him off

Mercedes: Nice!

Savannah: So what did the brain doctor say

Mercedes: They want me to do… Papa how did they say it?

Rahul: Your sister is getting referred to another type of doctor to see if she needs extra help at school

Mercedes: Can I not go to school?

Rahul: No! Whatever you need we can sort but you’ll be best having your first day with your sister

Savannah: Yeah. You don’t want to leave me alone do you? We do everything together

Mercedes: Except OT and word class

Cassandra brings Viola to the table and the family begin eating. For some reason everyone is migrating away from Viola?

Mercedes: Mama did your point tent (appointment) go okay

Cassandra: Apparently I have ADHD which I guess is a bit of a surprise but I’ll be fine. Everybody’s brain has to work in its own way

Rahul: Exactly! Now Viola, how about some peanut butter puffs? Nice and yummy

Viola looks at her papa, confused. Why is what he holding bigger than the things on the plate? It can’t just be her eyesight playing up, can it?

Savannah: Mama, can we have a trip to Granite Falls? I’d love to see some more bugs

Cassandra: Actually papa and I have been talking and we’d like you two to join scouts

Mercedes: Scouts? Why

Rahul: Nature is important to us, we want you both to learn to love it

Cassandra: Plus it will leave after school times free for OT and word class

The girls remain skeptical but agree. Meanwhile Viola is unsure about the taste of peanut butter puffs (and their creepy resemblance to banana once she picks them up) but one thing is for sure, they are fun to play with!

Savannah: Do we have to go to bed mama

Cassandra: It’s getting late honeybee, and don’t you want to check out the new bunk beds

Mercedes: I call dibs on the bottom one! That way you can still tuck me in mama

Cassandra: *smiles* alright but we need to clean up dinner first

Savannah: I got the plates

Cassandra: Mercedes could you put the leftovers away before they spoil please

Mercedes: Yes mama

Rahul: How do you two like the bunks

Savannah: It’s great papa. I can be up high just like butterflies are

Rahul: Good night rugrats, I love you two

Twins: Goodnight papa

Savannah climbs up to the top and snuggles in while Cassandra tucks Mercedes in.

Cassandra: Goodnight Mercedes. I love you both, have good dreams

Twins: Love you mama

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #my sims #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #R0902 #SavannahChopra #MercedesChopra #RahulChopra #CassandraChopra #ViolaChopra #MiltonGoth #AlexanderGoth

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kunikinnie · 1 year

Note

hii :) c'est moi, hehe. i couldn't resist that tempting offer you made, so here i am^^

take all the time you need to do this, and most importantly, take care of yourself, first.<33

i was wondering if you could write about Ōgai, Yukichi and Doppo, separately, with a s/o who practices martial arts and who very much enjoys them as a sport? (if you need any more specific hint, aikido is preferable, though do as you wish :))

perhaps s/o is playful and teasy, and started a play-fight, surprising them with a technique or something? without hurting them too much of course, hihi

neutral pronouns (they/them) are good, though i don't mind he/him. up to you ^^

[lol sorry if it sounds dumb, but i often think about it ever since i started practicing martial arts..]

anyways, take care !

— L

a/n: hi L! I don't actually know much about martial arts but I hope this was good enough :)) i tried my best

warnings: some profanity

with an s/o who practices martial arts for sport

featuring: Mori, Fukuzawa, Kunikida x GN!Reader

Mori Ougai

He's quite elated and supportive about it, the three main points being:

(1) As a former doctor, engaging regularly in any physical activity is a healthy habit.

(2) As your lover, of course he's hecking proud. Isn't it cool to have a s/o who's honing their skills in something they love? And can kick ass while doing it?

And most importantly (3) there's low risk of you getting seriously hurt since you're not "out in the field." While he still would be supportive of you if you did go that route, it's still a big relief that he doesn't have to worry about your life being on the line, especially given his current occupation.

The only thing he doesn't like about it is that you keep surprise-tackling him. Sure, he can fight if he wanted to, but given that his style is lethal (and dependent on the existence of a scalpel) there's not much he tries to do, especially if you're physically stronger than him.

"Y/N, I love you. So please let go. Please-"

If you have any tournaments, he'll do his best to attend, although because he's so busy him he seldom actually makes it. So he would compensate by some form of congratulatory celebration, be it a fancy dinner or whatever you like.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Strangely enough, he's the most chill about it among the three. Don't get me wrong it's not that he's not impressed at all. It's just that he assesses your skills from the perspective of a fellow practitioner.

He's not so strict about it tho since you are just doing it for sport.

He'd gladly demonstrate or share any tips he has. Ask him and he won't hesitate to help you. Sometimes he'll even invite you to train with Kunikida during their sessions.

Sparring with him alone is unfortunately a seldom thing. Work eats up most of his time and energy so he's not able to spend time with you in general as much as he'd like to.

Yet each session with him gives a massive boost to your skills. He's able to counter and even teach you new moves outside of the style that you're mastering - something which even the other people you learn with/from can't do.

As to you trying to pull tricks on him... you can try, but it will never work. He may play along for the first few moments but he'll swiftly counter it just the same. The most you'll get from him is a "I see you've learned something new. Good try."

Words cannot express - not that he uses them much, really - how proud he is whenever he notices your abilities improving. But the occasional smile.

Kunikida Doppo

You can bet he fell hard when he found out you're learning martial arts. Doesn't matter if you were already dating at the time or not when you started.

He'll definitely teach/coach you the most compared to the other two. There's allotted time and plans for progress all written down. Important events like tournaments and the like are in his notebook as well.

Unlike Fukuzawa, sparring would definitely be one of your more frequent "bonding" activities. Kunikida believes it saves time and is just a win-win for both of you anyway.

Now this one is a little too mindful about what part of you he touches whether it's during demonstration or actual sparring. He apologizes extremely quickly and frequently even when it's nothing too bad. He also gets flustered if you two are in any way, shape, or form in an awkward position.

Which is why although the gap in skill is considerably large (but not as large as with Fukuzawa), you can catch him off-guard and tease/surprise-tackle him. This is Kunikida we're talking about - any barrier he has put on will disintegrate quickly. Push him just a little and you will get reaction that you want.

"Focus, Y/N."

"Shouldn't I be the one telling you that?"

"I-I-"

Eventually, he'll let you off the hook with any of your antics as long as it doesn't delay your schedule.

tagging: @stygianoir, @requiem626k , @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @renaxnnas

#bsd #fukuzawa yukichi #kunikida doppo #mori ougai #fukuzawa x reader #kunikida x reader #mori ougai x reader

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maleyanderecafe · 6 months

Note

Hey there! Have you played Where the Two Flowers Meet? It's made by the same creator as Sweet Valentine and it's SO much fun. I'm pretty sure one of the main charas is a yandere even though there's no yandere tag. Really recommend it if you haven't tried it yet (do heed the TWs tho)

I will be honest, although I did see this in my itchio dashboard a long time ago, I didn't end up playing it because of my giant (and still giant) backlog of yandere games. I am glad that I got this ask for it because man, syllphana did it again with their seriously amazing story telling and characters, which is expected from the creator of Sweetest Valentine. Keep in mind there are a lot of warnings including suicide amongst other things, but Where the Two Flowers Meet is a great scifi style yandere story with some bittersweet endings. This game is rather long with about 10 different endings so the summary for this will be quite long as well.

The story starts with a man waking up in a hospital, having lost his right eye, right arm and has amnesia. While in this state, he is visited by a doctor who introduces himself as Caleb. He tell the man that his name is Aran and that the two of them are lovers. Aran is of course entirely surprised by this, having not remembered the 10 years of them being together and is worried about his current state. Caleb tells him that he tried to jump out of a building, thus the injuries and amnesia and that he's here to help me recall who he is and to take care of him as his injuries grow. Caleb starts to recount the two's history slowly as the days go by.

The history of Caleb and Aran are slowly drip fed throughout the first couple of chapters of the story as Aran tries to figure out what's gong on, but for the sake of not going back and forth I'll summarize most of it together here. All of this is done through Caleb's point of view.

Caleb first meets Aran while visiting his grandparent's old cottage one day to pay respects to him only to be spooked by a intruder. Caleb ends up meeting Aran who is trying to take care of the garden there. Aran seemed to have met Caleb's grandfather a ways back and became friends, basically becoming his gardener of sort. The two of them get closer afterwards with them even adopting a cat that wandered into the garden. Unfortunately, the cat ends up eating a poisonous flower and gets rushed to the hospital. The cat ends up dying due to consuming too much. After a while and burying the cat, we get to see Aran painting some things in the main room. Aran asks Caleb what he sees with the paintings, but when asked in response, Aran simply states that he paints without purpose, something that Caleb doesn't understand. While Caleb believes you have to earn the right to be born else be useless, Aran believes that life doesn't necessarily have a purpose or meaning. The two of their philosophies seem to contradict each other, with Caleb believing they exist to make the world a better place, where Aran believes that there isn't always a purpose to everything. We also get to learn more about Caleb's family life, that his biological father was an alcoholic and didn't take care of him, but that he is currently living with his adoptive parents and a better life. As the story goes on, the two of them get closer, understanding each others habits, learning from each other and taking care of each other. While Caleb is more stern and practical, it's obvious that he has a much better lifestyle than Aran, and he is working hard to get his medical degree. Meanwhile Aran is much more self destructive in his lifestyle because although he seems to be an artist (making music, paintings, etc) he lives life very day to day, eating junk food and not taking care of himself, something that Caleb often worries about. Aran also seems to have the habit of running away, either avoiding conversations or simply not meeting Caleb for long stretches of time. At a couple points in the story, we see Frida, one of Caleb's associates meet him in front of their house, wanting him to join a project of sorts despite Caleb heavily despising Frida. At some point, to loosen up, Aran invites Caleb to a bar to hang out. There, he meets a girl named Sarah who seems worried about both Aran and his brother, as she hasn't seen his brother in a while. Eventually Caleb has to bring Aran home after getting extremely drunk and Aran even attempts to sleep with Caleb. We see that Aran believes that he's ultimately useless as compared to his brother who is in the army, believing that the only good use he has is his body, something that Caleb shuts down as he tries to take care of him. The next day after taking care of each other, the two of them have fun at an amusement park to let go of their worries. Near the end as the two watch the sunset, they talk more about their issues, with Aran worried about Caleb's outview on life, relating to him stating that he doesn't have to work so hard to prove himself, that he's not useless. Similarly, Caleb talks to Aran about his self destructive life style and the previous life, worried that he's suicidal. At the end, the two of them end up dating happily, at least for a while. Caleb ends up learning that Aran's mother is slowly dying, and that Aran will start to sell his paintings and eventually his house to help take care of her. Caleb, worried about Aran decides to give some of his savings to him so that he can take care of his mom. However, upon returning home to get the money he's saved up, he finds it gone. He calls his adoptive mother, who replies that he gave the money to his biological father weeks ago, with Caleb never being able to get the money back, and not being able to pay for Aran's costs.

Aran in the hospital is visited by Julia, his nurse who he recognizes as Caleb's sister and seems to be trying to help him out of this situation, but is unable to tell him the truth about what is going on. After Caleb reveals that his mother is dying Aran freaks out, with Caleb stating that he is simply taking care of her and that she's fine.Aran is able to leave his room one day and finds that the place is heavily monitored, and that he's essentially trapped there unless he can get a keycard. Julia does end slipping him a keycard which he can then choose to use.

If he doesn't use it, Aran lives in bliss about what is about to happen. He is eventually discharged from the hospital by Caleb and given flowers, only to then be shot and killed by Caleb soon after.

If Aran does use it, he ends up finding out he is in a very specified part of the hospital and goes to the library. There he meets Frida, a coworker that Caleb despises due to her personality. She seems entertained by the prospect that he's escaped and even decides to help him by showing him where the archives are. There Aran finds out that he's part of an experiment and finds out that he might not actually be Aran. After returning to his room, Caleb apologizes to Aran for lying about his mother as she has died, and here Aran can decide to either call him out for lying or not say anything.

Calling him out for lying leads to Caleb sedating Aran, stating that the subject became unstable and wiping his memory again, thus starting the entire cycle of the game over again.

If Aran decides not to, he will notice that Caleb is monitoring his reactions and decides to calm down so that Caleb won't notice. He tries to convince Caleb to tell him the truth, with Caleb worried as Aran had tried to kill himself three times now. Julia comes in and tries to convince Aran to leave as soon as possible as he is an innocent bystander in this. However, Aran is determined to learn more about what is going on. He ends up going back to archives to get more information only to find the other experimentation. It seems like they are in a project called Project Metamorphosis where they are able to basically replace another person's brain with someone else's memories. The current Aran is the seventh version of this, with the other versions having died or otherwise were killed. He finds a video of Caleb interviewing him in a blank room. We find out the Aran we currently know is actually Aran's twin brother, Roy, who was a military man and gained the injuries after a fight. Roy initially is against the idea of the procedure, finding it cruel and unusual, but Caleb is able to convince him, stating that because of this procedure he'd be able to not only revive their mother but also Roy's child. Roy feels as if he doesn't have much to live for after and agrees to the procedure, something that Caleb is pleased about as it's expected that it would be easier to map Aran's brain onto Roy's since the two are twins.

From this point on the main character, has to decide if he still is Aran or if he is no longer him. This splits the path into two with their own endings.

If he does decide that he's Aran, where he essentially brainwashes himself into believing that he is and the point of view switches to Caleb. We get to see the flashback of Aran's last moments through Caleb's eyes. We see that Aran was not able to save his mother, not even able to sell the house after Caleb disappears, which Caleb feels immense guilt over, even though Aran attempts to reassure him. Aran asks Caleb to essentially leave him alone for a bit, something that Caleb feels worried about, but ultimately respects. After almost two weeks without contact, Aran finally picks up Caleb's calls, leading to a sad final call with Aran as he drunkenly drowns himself in the woods due to his depression and commits suicide. Caleb rushes to try to find Aran but it's too late, and finds his dead body floating in the river. He's about to give up when he remember project Metempsychosis, the project that Frida is a part of and plots to try to save Aran in this way.

Back in the present, we see that Aran is acting calmly, at least until Caleb decides to tell him that he'll be discharged from the hospital. Caleb seems pretty pissed that Aran is essentially faking being nice to him as he's basically lied and confined him to the hospital, but Aran doesn't seem to realize this at all. Caleb confronts Frida about this, realizing that he is now actually acting like Aran to which Frida seems confused and smug about as this is something that he wanted to have. We see another flashback of Caleb taking Aran's brain from when he was dead and find that current Aran is now clutching said brain in the storage room. Caleb is able to coerce him back to his room. From there, Caleb tells Aran that he no longer wants to contact with him when he is discharged from the hosptial, leading to Aran becoming outraged and angry, attempting to break down the door as Caleb leaves. When visiting him the next day, Caleb finds that Aran has pulled out the needle to his IV drip bag, and starts talking about paintings, similarly to how Aran did in the past. Caleb calms him down, stating that the two will be together forever, something that makes Caleb happy in some way. The next day, Aran attempts to pin Caleb down and coerce him into having sex with him, however, Caleb tries to push him away. Before he leaves, Aran threatens to sleep with others if he goes.

If Caleb stays with Aran, the two of them will end up sleeping together, as Caleb believes this is retribution for what he's done to Aran. The two will end up moving together in a toxic relationship.

If instead Caleb leaves, he finds the next day that Aran has hung himself with his IV drip line. He can then decide whether to stop continuing the project or to continue.

If he decides to stop, he will end up shooting himself, resulting in him finally being together with Aran in the afterlife while his dead body lay slumped next to the body of Aran.

If he decides to continue, he ends up converting the sixth trial, 06 into Aran. He is successfully able to implant Aran's memories onto him thus continuing the project and eventually adopting Roy's Metempsychosised daughter.

If however Aran decides that he isn't really Aran anymore, he eventually goes by 07 based on his designation number. As he wanders around, he ends up being caught by Caleb and brought back to an observation room. Caleb and 07 talk about what 07 has learned- how he's not Aran, but rather Aran's memories implanted onto Roy and takes the keycard amongst some other things in his pocket, while leaving Julia's number in his pocket. Julia comes in and tells 07 that they have to leave now, or else his memories will be erased once again.

If the two leave, they will be able to leave the life behind, running away from the experiments. The ending leaves the two mostly happy, though not aware of what happened to the rest of the facility and it's ongoing.

If he decides to stay, he will state that he wants to stop Caleb from continuing and find out more about what is going on, no longer running away from his past as he did before as well as worried about Caleb's new victim. Julia sympathizes and brings him to Frida, who has been working together with Julia to help him, at least for the time being. After bringing him to the lab, Julia warns 07 not to break anything before leaving. 07 is able to find documents on Roy's family, how he had a daughter and wife as well as general brain scans of Roy. He also sees pictures of Aran, and eventually finds his brain.

If he chooses to destroy it, Julia will come find him and get angry, as he basically has been refusing to listen to her the entire time. He is caught and wakes up as Caleb is sawing his head open, ready to get more information form him. He accepts Caleb's request of ending it quickly leading it to his death.

If 07 decides not to, he will feel in turmoil, though speaking with Julia lightens him up a bit, seeing that Caleb seems to care about 07 a lot more than the other experiments, which gives 07 some hope that he'll be able to convince Caleb of his wrongdoings. He is brought back to his room where he talks to Caleb the next day about how he joined project Metempsychosis to bring Aran back, even revealing that Frida herself is a product of this project, with Caleb even seeing the original Frida die before his eyes. We see that Caleb is using this project to atone for his misdeeds as he believes that it was his fault that Aran died in the first place. Caleb confirms that 07 will be brought into his brain being wiped and Aran has the choice to kill Caleb.

If he does, he will successfully kill Caleb by choking him, only to realize that he had a gun this entire time and could have killed him. This just leads to him getting caught by the others.

If he doesn't, he will find a key taped under his bowl, and has Julia come into the room by pretending to stab himself. Julia confirms that the key isn't actually from her and promises the next day to talk to him before he gets the procedure. Unfortunately, the next day when Julia comes in, she ends up dying in front of him, with Caleb confirming she was poisoned by the executives for helping 07. After this, Caleb essentially helps 07 escape and with the two of them fighting off scientists and security guards, they are able to leave the hospital. While they leave, Caleb tries to buy time for 07 by going back, in which here 07 has to convince Caleb.

If he convinces Caleb by asking what Aran would do, he will leave with 07 back to the cottage. However, upon sleeping, 07 finds a note thanking 07 before finding that Caleb has committed suicide to be with Aran again.

If he asks about himself, the two will end up meeting Frida, who desperately tries to get Caleb to come back. 07 tells Caleb also that he can't keep running away from his problems, as project Metempsychosis will continue even if Caleb dies, urging him to try to stop these experimentation. After shooting her, the two end up going their separate ways, with 07 buying a new prosthetic eye and arm and permanently changing his name to 07. The two meet up about a year later, with Caleb promising to turn himself in for his crimes and to allow the two of them to finally get some closure.

So first things first, I really like the story for this game and that's probably just because so far I do like Syllaphana's games for both being interesting and having cool twists and turns. In their devlog after this game, they were talking about how they didn't do that well on the worldbuilding, but honestly I thought it was pretty good. It's a solid and simple concept that makes sense in the world that it's in and it's not overly complicated but still explores a lot of different venues, which I think is a perfect match for it. The pacing in the story is also pretty good- I didn't really find any parts of it that dragged for long periods of time and I felt like mostly each part was concise enough to get from scene to scene without it feeling too weird (though it was a bit strange that 07 is able to get away with a lot, such as leaving his room like 3 times with little repercussion, but it's a nitpick). I like how most of the music is a piano motif of some sort as well (except for when they go to the club) which really brings a kind of softer vibe to the overall gameplay experience.

One of the things that I liked the most is seeing Aran and Caleb's relationships form. I actually do appreciate that they're not overly romantic for the most part because while it can be cute, it fits more of the theme for the game (and that I actually have a bias for relationships that aren't just... romanceish, I guess, though it depends on how they are written). It's nice that the pacing is fairly slow when they get together and we see how they mesh well together, with Aran being a bit more reactive to Caleb's teasing while also taking care of him, and Caleb a bit colder in some aspects but also deeply appreciative and caring of Aran. It's also nice to see the two's vices, with Aran being a lot more self destructive in his tendencies, as well as his tendency to run away from everything if given and Caleb's obsessiveness with having to prove himself to be useful, which leads to of course his involvement with Metaphychosis and guilt which he carries around in pretty much all endings. I think because these segments are much longer compared to Sweetest Valentine, we really get to see how they think and view the world as well as just how they are as people. It makes it much more unfortunate when everything starts to snowball, with Caleb not able to give Aran the money that he promised because of his adopted mother and Aran's mother dying after which just leads to Aran's death. It's a lot of unfortunate circumstances that continue to stack on top of each other until it's basically too late. Basically the point is, I like the way that the relationship was handled and that it was mostly in Caleb's point of view.

I actually surprisingly kind of like Frida too. She's a pretty awful person who constantly just plays around with both Caleb and 07 throughout the game, but she is, at least towards 07, relatively useful in his search for what's going on. I actually like the reveal that Frida is actually part of this project as well, that her current body is actually a successful attempt at transposing someone and that she can just continuously be duplicated over and over again. There's some kind of horror knowing that the current body you're in can just be replaced by a company to be exactly the same, and that the current Frida has actually died long ago. It makes me wonder if that's why she was so desperate to get Caleb to stay because otherwise her existence would be in jeopardy or if she had wished that there would be another like her.

For the endings, I normally usually like the "true" or happier endings for characters, but I actually have to side with my yandere lover side and say my favorite ending is the one where Caleb and Aran end in a basically abusive relationship, where Caleb takes the brunt of Aran's anger as a way to pay for what he's done and to satisfy his guilt. It's messed up but in a weird cathartic way, and I honestly do like it better than the true ending. All of the endings are rather bittersweet in one way or another though and it does fit the tone of the story.

But anyways, to the part most people actually care about which is the yandere section. Caleb for the most part is a replacement yandere, though he can be defined as a couple of different ones depending on which route you go down of. Normally replacement yanderes sort of just project their love onto someone who is similar to their love interest, which makes them a bit more iffy in terms of whether they're really yandere for the second person, but in thise case, Caleb is literally transplanting memories onto various people in the hope that one of them becomes Aran. We can see that it doesn't really matter who or what becomes Aran, so as long as Caleb can revive him to some degree, all of the pain and suffering is worth it, as we see in the ending where 07 dies and 06 is used as the replacement. It's also of note that Caleb also does this out of guilt for not being able to save Aran, which I can always appreciate when there's a deeper meaning to why someone becomes a yandere in the first place and he's also aware that what he's doing is wrong but refuses to stop in the hopes that he can one day get Aran back. It's interesting to see that if 07 tricks himself into believing he is Aran that Caleb always stays as a yandere, either accepting him or someone else as Aran, or even just straight up dying so that he can be with him. Ironic that when 07 tries to become Aran so that he won't take any other innocent bystanders away from the experiment that Caleb just gets worse and worse. 07 actually does also become a yandere in these endings too, killing himself when realizes that Caleb is trying to throw him away or even abusing him afterwards, possibly as a way to sate Caleb's guilt(and his own anger) so that he's exactly as he would want. In his true ending, Caleb becomes a redeemed yandere, realizing that he can't run away from his problems nor bring back Aran, and the two have a rather bittersweet reunion. I think it's a nice way for Caleb to realize the error of his ways, and is a good arc to when he finally is able to see 07 as a person and not as an experiment to bring Aran back. This is something even 07 calls out to him about, stating that it's messed up to do something like this and that Aran would never want this to happen, though if it actually gets through to Caleb depends on 07's choices. Caleb's life is intertwined with Aran to the point of suicide in many of the endings.

But anyways, I really like playing this game. It's impressively long compared to the various other demos I've been playing recently and it does a really good job of building this kind of scifiish like world relating to memory erasure. The characters were all pretty interesting (and I feel bad for Julia since she basically sacrifices herself in the best ending, with Caleb... reaction somehow less than 07 which seems strange) and it has an interesting yandere. It's good and I highly recommend playing it.

#asks #male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #where the two flowers meet

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