#But that is the main one and has always been

[bomberqueen17]

How To Shop For Fabric Online

RIP Joann's. Now many places in the US no longer have a local fabric store, such as it even was toward the end.

There are some good posts going around about where to shop for fabric and craft supplies online, like this one for example. But if you're a beginner-to-intermediate sewist, and the way you've always shopped for fabric is by going to the store and touching it, it can be a hard, even cruel adjustment to suddenly be looking at a photo online and trying to piece together from the inconsistent descriptions what you're actually looking at.

So I'm going to just try to bang together a little primer on What Things Are Called, and how to educate yourself, so that you don't have to do what I did and just buy a ton of inappropriate stuff you wound up not being able to use for what you'd thought. And I will link to some resources that will help with this. This will be garment-sewing-centric but will, I think, be fairly broadly applicable.

The first thing is to look carefully at your desired project. If it is a commercial pattern, it will usually tell you what kind of fabric you need, but it will describe it in not the same words it's often sold under. If it is NOT a commercial pattern and you're kind of winging it, it's even harder. So here is how to start figuring out what you need.

Number one: Knit or Woven?

Quilting fabric is woven. If you are making a quilt, you want a woven. Most craft projects are made with woven fabric-- tote bags, upholstery, you name it.

Many garments are knits. T-shirts, yoga pants, cardigans. It is easy to know, because knits stretch. They can either stretch both ways (along the length and along the width) or just one way (usually along the width); this is confusingly either called 2-way stretch or 4-way stretch. Yes, stores are inconsistent. Look carefully at the description, and they will usually specify-- "along the grain" or "in all directions". Some garments require stretch only around the body-- maxi skirts, knit dresses etc-- while some absolutely need stretch both ways, like bathing suits.

No, you absolutely cannot clone your favorite knit t-shirt in quilting cotton. It will not fit. Most knit garments have "negative ease", meaning they are smaller than your body and stretch to fit. All woven garments have "positive ease", meaning they are larger than your body, unless very firm shaping undergarments are used.

SMALL EXCEPTION: There exist "stretch wovens", which are woven fabrics made with elastic fibers. These will be labeled as such. They are actually harder to sew with than regular wovens because they almost never have their stretch percentage labeled; they are NOT suitable for knit patterns. Avoid them, until you are more advanced and know how to accomodate them, is my advice!

Number two: WEIGHT.

How heavy is the fabric? How thick? How thin? This is measured in two main ways-- ounces per yard (denim is often 8oz, 10 oz, 12 oz) or grams per square meter. But many fabric retailers do not tell you a weight, they use words like "bottomweight" or "dress-weight", and you have to learn to figure out what they mean by that.

My lifehack for learning these has been go to go to ready-to-wear clothing retailers and see if they give the weights of the fabric their garments are made from. (Yes, I learned how to shop for clothes online instead of in-store years ago, because I am fat; some of us have had to do this a long time.)

If you are making a pair of trousers, you need heavier fabric than if you are making a blouse. Do not buy a floaty translucent chiffon to make your work trousers, it will not work no matter how cute the color is. Learn how the different weights of fabric are described, and you will improve your odds of finding what you need.

Number three: DRAPE.

Is it stiff? Is it fluid? Is it soft? is it firm? There are a lot of very artsy words used for this, and you may find yourself puzzling over things with a fluid hand, or a dry, crisp hand, or "a lot of drape", or maybe the listing doesn't describe it at all. This segues neatly into another technical thing, which is the WEAVE of the fabric. There is a dizzying array of words that tell you what kind of fabric it is-- twill, tabby, challis, chiffon, crepe, organza, georgette. And these will give you insight into the drape, and thus into the texture/usability of this fabric, and how suitable it may or may not be for your project.

I know it's a lot to think about but I am now going to give you resources for where to see all this stuff.

Number one is Mood Fabrics, which I can't believe hasn't been in any of the posts I've seen so far. They are a huge store in NYC's Fashion District and yes you can go there, but when I went there it overwhelmed me so much I left empty-handed. But what they have is AN INCREDIBLE WEBSITE. They have everything on there, and what's most important for you, their listings are INCREDIBLY consistent. They have VIDEOS of many of the fabrics, where a sales associate will hold it, wave it, stretch it, and tell you verbally what it is and what it's for, in about thirty seconds. HUNDREDS of these videos.

Whether you want to buy from them or not, go to Mood Fabrics, click around, find their listings, and read them. They will tell you fabric content, weight (usually gsm), often weave, they have little graphics that show you if it's for pants, dresses, shirts. And they have those videos. Look at the listings, watch the videos, and you will leave knowing a lot more about how to look at an online listing of fabric and know what you're getting.

Another really excellent website for this is Stonemountain & Daughter. I've actually not bought anything from them yet (they came highly recommended, but they're not cheap), but their online listings are, again, very thorough and very detailed. They always have a picture of the fabric with a fold in it held in place by a pin, which does more to help you understand the weight and drape of a fabric than any other static image ever could-- that visual, combined with how informative the listings are, has helped me learn to estimate fabric weights on other sites very effectively.

And here is a page that's ostensibly about how to wash silk, but I found it so useful because it gives such a clear image of what each weave/type of silk fabric looks and drapes like. I've never bought anything from these guys either, but this is a good resource.

Learn a little bit about fabric so you know what you're looking for, and you can begin to replace some of that "i just have to go and feel it in person" problem. There will still be trial and error, but you'll have a better starting place at least.

[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe2

[cheyisagirlkisser]

⃠ CYBER SEX. (SEVIKA + VI + READER ) ⃠

➤┆pairing: sevika + vi + fem reader

↻┆word count: 3k

⚠︎┆warnings: dom! sevika + switch vi + sub! reader, sevika guides you and vi through phone sex, degrading names (whore, slut) and nicknames (angel, good girl, Sevika is called 'Vika once), teasing, fingering + clit stim + strap-on sex (r! receiving), slight pain kink, mentions of vi receiving from sevika, threats of punishment from sevika, mentions of sexism from sevika's male coworkers (she's in construction).

Description: Sevika is the main breadwinner in you, her, and Vi's. She makes a lot of money, but is also often busier than the both of you. The week-long business trips are something she doesn't look forward to-being away from her girls for days to weeks at a time. You and Vi decide to make matters worse for her when you get feel neglected on a call that was supposed to relax your exhausted girlfriend.

You'd think after countless business trips away from home that Sevika would be used to the separation, but no. She misses you and Vi more than anything. She finds a stupid grin forming on her face when she imagines the both of you on the couch, probably watching something she would make fun of and eating junk food. She keeps telling herself she only has two days left to go. Then, it's the four hour road trip until she can finally give her girlfriends some attention.

Sevika's longing is loving. It's soft and sweet, though anyone else would find that to be rare from her. You and Vi just bring out that ooey-gooey part of her heart out. With that lead to sweeter-than-chocolate kisses and late nights that she knows she shouldn't be awake for, having to wake up at 5 in the morning, but ends up between the two of you anyway.

Her current mood is anything but horny. She is tired after a long day of construction work and being around dickhead coworkers, and she could use a shower to wash off the sweat from her body. Sex isn't exactly the priority in her mind.

Still, she imagines that it'll be like to return home. You and Vi must be so needy. You always are after a week without Sevika. The routine is all the same—walk through the door, take a quick shower, and fuck the brains out of you two.

You're a bottom through and through. You couldn't top even if someone was pointing a gun to your head. Vi, on the contrary, has no reason to. She could if she was in the particular mood for it, but why would she? Sevika takes care of both of you best. She knows that you love being held down and fucked, how you like Vi's thumb on your clit adding onto the pleasure. Sevika knows that Vi likes it more complicated. Vi likes to pretend like she isn't as flustered as she truly is when Sevika has her legs open and her pussy on display, but the girl can get even wetter than you can at times. Everything is in routine, and that is just how Sevika likes it.

Sitting in her hotel room, Sevika waits impatiently for the call. Earlier, Vi sent a dry text requesting a facetime. That didn't raise any suspicions in her head. Almost every time Sevika leaves for a trip, either you or Vi send something asking when she is available. It makes her heart jump to think of her girls being without her. She wonders how Vi fares without someone to tell her not to punch a hole in the wall, and instead use the punching bag Sevika spent a ridiculous amount of money on. She wonders how you fare without the constant reassurance. You're on the overthinking side, and Sevika has probably said enough to put into a book. She doesn't mind it one bit, though.

This time, Sevika feels extra excited to talk. She just wants to kick her boots off, see you and Vi's faces, and forget about having two more days of hard labor.

She wants a distraction.

You and Vi have been dying without Sevika.

Usually, the days go by fast. You're both able to wait for Sevika's touch. You don't have to think too much about the way her fingers would feel in you, and Vi doesn't have to fuck herself on the dildo attached to Sevika's strap to manage. Today, however, both of you seemed to break.

It started with Vi.

(EARLIER..)

"She wouldn't know if we did it. How would she?" Vi inquires, leaning in. Her hand that has been teasingly rubbing your thigh for the past 30 minutes is creeping upward. Her voice is quiet, as if Sevika is able to hear her from countless miles away.

"C'mon, Vi.." You shoo her away, moving her hand back down to safe territory. "We can wait two days. Plus, I think it's only you that's all horny. I've been doing fine."

Vi snorts at that. "Are you fucking kidding me? Babe, you've been all over me all day."

"Okay!? What does that have to do with being pent-up?" You scoff at her, punishing her by breaking eye contact. Your gaze falls back onto the tv in front of you.

Vi doesn't scooch away to her personal space. Instead, she leans in. Her breath tickles your ear, making you swallow back your guilt because fuck, just her proximity is making you wet.

"What do you mean, 'what does that have to do with being pent-up'? You're basically begging to be fucked. All the hugs and kisses..the way you've guided my hands to your waist each morning when we wake up.." Vi tests you by inching her hand back up, just enough to make your breath hitch.

You turn to face her, and that is when Vi knows she has you. You're like a fish she can just reel in. Your bait runs cheap, too. "But, Vi..I don't wanna keep anything from Sevika. We would be fucked if she found out." And no, not in a good way..

The smile that spreads across Vi's face scares you. She has something going on in her head—it's that same face she makes before she goes Christmas shopping, the same glint in her eyes that sparkles on April Fool's day.

She cups your face to hold eye contact, and then she leans in until your lips are nearly touching. Your most pathetic but natural instinct is to squeeze your thighs together.

"Then let's make sure she knows what we're going to do tonight."

When Sevika answers the call, she is greeted with the familiar sight of you and Vi on your shared bed.

She can immediately tell that Vi is using her laptop to call because the quality is slightly better, and she can see both of your bodies instead of just faces. Vi usually never uses the laptop for calls unless it's for a specific reason, but she doesn't question it tonight. She just wants to see her girls.

You're seated comfortably in Vi's lap, where it isn't exactly rare for you to sit. Still, something feels different about the view. You don't have the same excited expression. You look nervous, as if you have something to hide from Sevika. Perhaps if Sevika wasn't so exhausted from the job today, she'd notice the scheming written all over Vi's face.

"Hi, baby. Hi, Vi." She greets you both, her voice thick with a fatigued rasp.

"Hi, 'Vika!" You smile at her, making her heart melt slightly. All feels right when she can talk to the both of you.

"Any sexist comments today?" Vi asks her.

Sevika scoffs. "Wouldn't be a normal day without one."

Conversation is normal and comforting for Sevika. It always is.

You tend to remind Sevika how much you miss her when you talk. You ask her if she misses you, if she's tried the cookies you baked for her trip, if she has been thinking about you. Vi asks the work related questions. The sexism question is always a go-to.

"Of course. What was it this time, something about how your coworker's wife just stays in the kitchen and you should, too?"

Sevika shakes her head. "Nah, not today. That was last month's. It was this guy, really short and ginger. Overheard him talking shit about women with muscles on them. I guess he didn't want me to hear, 'cause he looked all pale and skittish. Super fuckin' quiet. I could hear the dumbass, though."

Sevika goes on about her day to Vi, and Vi visibly nods along. She doesn't seem to pay too much attention to it at first, but as she complains about her coworker Ricky not knowing how to read a blueprint, she sees Vi's hand almost fully between your legs. In those pajama shorts you're wearing, it leaves nothing to the imagination. She can see the way Vi's hand almost slips inside them from the bottom, rubbing teasing circles on the inside of your thigh.

"You're pretty handsy, don't you think?" Sevika snorts, not thinking much of it.

Vi's answer catches her surprised, "well, this thing has been begging for it all week."

Sevika's eyes narrow and her face heats up, but you seem caught off-guard by Vi's words as well. You don't comment on them, though. You don't make a move to pull away from her embrace. In fact, Sevika can now point out the way you almost instinctively move to shut your legs around vi's hand. Vi will tap your leg and you quickly open back up to Sevika's view.

Sevika sighs, brushing it off. "Anyways, just wanted to say I missed you both. It's been a long fuckin' week. I was planning on going to bed soon, but-"

You let out a short, but noticeable moan when Vi's fingers circle your clit through your shorts.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on with you two?" Sevika demands, annoyance clear in her voice. But behind it, you can hear some ounce of arousal.

"I told you. This slut's been all over me, Sev." Vi simply states, not giving away any future plans. She doesn't stop with her ministrations, and Sevika has to helplessly watch as you needily writhe under Vi's touch. Three hands firmly rub your clothed pussy, and all you can do is whine and whisper in Vi's ear for more, too scared to speak up loud enough for Sevika to hear and have a reason to bend you over her knee when she gets home. Sevika notices, though.

"Are you seriously about to fuck her on camera? I'm not messing around, Vi. Cut the shit, or I'll make you regret it the moment I step through the door." Sevika growls.

"What's wrong with me taking care of her? She needs me, Sevika. Look at her. I gotta give her what she wants before she's your problem on Friday." Vi abruptly peels your pajama pants off of your body. Even in the slightly grainy video, Sevika can see the wet patch on your panties. You already know you'll still be Sevika's problem when she gets back home, but you don't care. You want to get fucked now, and Vi's touch leaves you a bit forgetful when it comes to the potential consequences of this.

Now, Sevika is pissed. She is both pissed off that she has to deal with you and Vi's bullshit, but she is also turned on. That makes matters worse. She wants to say fuck it and just let herself enjoy the show, but if she does, she'll have bigger problems to worry about.

Since you, Vi, and Sevika have established the sexual dynamic of your relationship, Sevika has had a reasonable amount of control over you and Vi. She has dished out her fair share of consequences when either of you acted up, and eventually, there was a clear dynamic. You've always been Sevika's angel: listening to everything she says, laying down and taking it like a good girl, not complaining when you don't get fucked or when Sevika is in the mood to tease.

Vi has always been on the brattier side. She likes to complain. She enjoys testing how much is too much, but even this situation is shocking to Sevika. She'll have to spend hours putting the two of you back into place when she comes home instead of fucking you and falling asleep with you in her arms and Vi on her side. But maybe that is exactly what the both of you need.

"Go right ahead and fuck her, Vi." Sevika says, finally causing a stop in Vi's movements. You whine in protest, but neither Sevika or Vi pay any mind to it.

"Seriously? You're okay with it?"

Sevika shrugs, adjusting on the bed. "Just know that there will be consequences. I'm too tired to threaten you now, Vi."

That should scare Vi. She knows that Sevika is tired, and that is where the sudden leniency comes from. If anything, Vi should take that as a sign to just call it a night.

Instead, she chooses wrong.

"That feel good, baby?" Vi coos, two fingers pumping in your wetness. There's a strap-on adjusted around her hips that wasn't there earlier, and Sevika is mostly silent as she takes in the view. You let out a whorish sound, and Vi laughs down at you. "Yeah, I know. It's exactly what your needy little cunt needs."

"No more teasing, please." You try to clutch Vis' wrist and pull her hand away from your dripping cunt, but her playfully smacks your hand away. "Just fuck me!" You whine.

"Jesus christ," comes an exasperated sigh from Sevika. Watching the scene in front of her, she pretends like it doesn't make her just as wet as your leaking pussy. She has to keep some level of control.

"Are you hearing this, Sevika?" Vi refers to the embarrassingly loud squelching noise coming from between your legs. Vi's fingers don't let up, though. She likes listening to the wetness and feeling your clit twitch underneath her thumb.

"I think the neighbors can hear it."

You moan at the sound of Sevika's voice. It sends a lightning bolt to Sevika's poor cunt, but she won't give you the benefit of the doubt of masturbating to the scene in front of her. No, she'll wait until after the call to get herself off in the hotel shower..

"You heard her, Vi. Fuck her." Sevika orders. Vi rolls her eyes, but relents in her teasing torture.

Vi's fingers slide out of you, and she pulls your now naked body down onto the bed to lay on your back. The mushroom head of Vi's (Sevika's) strap teases your glistening folds and you try your best to move your hips up enough to slip it inside of you, but one of Vi's hands pins you down on the bed.

"Beg Sevika." Vi demands, grinning above you.

Your face turns towards the laptop on the edge of the bed, and you can't help but moan when you feel the silicone tap your swollen clit.

"Please, Sevika. Please tell Vi to put it in me." You beg.

"Will you be a good girl for her?" Sevika asks you, and it takes everything in her not to rush out of the hotel and into her car to fuck you herself.

"Yes! Fuck, I promise, Sevika. I'll be a good girl for you, too."

I'll be a good girl for you, too.

The sentence echoes in her head. You don't see this as only a you and Vi thing. The thought of you wanting to please Sevika too has her hot and weak.

"Fuck my good girl, Vi."

The toy slides in you with ease, no lube necessary. Vi groans above you as she pushes her hips forward, slowly sinking further into your pussy. She feels like a starved woman after not fucking a girl for so long. Sevika takes great care of her needs, but she can't deny that this situation has been a fantasy for her for a long time.

"Fuck, you take this cock so well. Your pussy needed me. Needed to be fucked like a whore." Vi grits through her teeth, beginning to fuck you at a steady pace. Her hips snap forward and pull back, only to slam back into your greedy hole.

You only answer her in a series of broken moans. Sevika watches the way your tits jiggle with each thrust, and she imagines her own hands groping them or her tongue swirling over your nipples while Vi fucks you.

"Give her tits a small smack. She likes that."

Before you can process the instruction, Vi's hand lands a slap on one of your tits. You gasp, peeking down at the now reddened skin. She doesn't do it again until Sevika encourages. "There you go. Do it again, the slut likes it when you give her some pain."

Vi alternates between your tits, shooting delicious bolts of paint throughout your breasts as she fucks you. Her thrusts grow more erratic and deep. Her hips meet the back of your thighs each time they move forward, and you can feel the curve of the toy brush against your g-spot while the tip kisses your cervix. This is what you were neglected of.

"She looks like she's about to cum, Vi. Give it to her nice and deep. She likes it that way, that's how I always get her to cum hard." Sevika says, and Vi fixes up her pace, nearly slamming into you each thrust until your bodies become flush when they meet.

"Vi!! Oh my fucking god-" you moan, your orgasm washing over you. Vi fucks you through it, and Sevika stays quiet as she admires the show. You writhe underneath Vi, pawing at her back and mindlessly begging for more cunt-numbing treatment. She gives it to you until the overstimulation kicks in and you beg otherwise.

Vi, now a breathless, crazy-haired mess, collapses onto you. She buries her face into your warm neck and hugs you tight, particularly clingy after sex. You feel calmed down (and satiated) now that you just feel the sweet Vi that you know and love. Her chest presses against you, but the intimacy that comes from it is more soft and gentle than anything sexual.

"You okay?" Sevika asks the both of you. Vi gives a weak thumbs-up, and you nod. When Sevika is assured that both of you are okay, she lets out a slightly scary laugh. At least, you think it's a laugh.

"Both of you are so fucked when I come home."

taglist: @waitaminuteashh, @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz

[wisegirl1448]

why has everyone just decided to disregard everything that makes percy interesting?

we are always begging for a main character who is given a life outside of being a main character and then we were given percy jackson, a demigod in the summer, saving the world and looking good doing it, but is also just a kid.

he skateboards and collects them, he listens to punk rock and alternative rock (are they the same thing or is punk rock a sub-genre?) but doesn't dress 'alt' (like thalia) and has anger issues and has been kicked out of multiple schools for said anger issues, some of them being (court-ordered) military schools.

he also has problems with authorities who abuse their power (gabe, the gods, the nypd etc.) and will not hesitate to call you out on your bullshit no matter how powerful and important and feared you are.

but he has morals and doesn't do things without reason. he has a level of maturity and integrity that isn't even present in most adults. he is really smart and gets better grades than annabeth, and is the most considerate person you will ever meet. he is humble and never tries to be the center of attention.

he's not the most optimistic person in the entire world, but he tries to find reasons to be happy in really crappy situations (when they were traversing Tartarus and he was so happy that annabeth was with him that he started smiling).

he is always grateful for everything he has and tries to show genuine interest in all the things that interest his loved ones, even if they bore him to death (like annabeth with her architecture).

and we completely erase that for some reason to make him nothing but 'annabeth chases' boyfriend,' and, well he is her boyfriend, and he's very proud of that fact, but he is his own person as well.

people get really mad when we erase all of annabeth's character to make her nothing more than percy jacksons' girlfriend but we do it to percy all the time.

[sparrowsgarden]

As I have been promising for years, the eye color chart is all cleaned up and ready to be shared! I'm totally ok with this being saved and passed around, that's why all my info is on it.

Basic image description is in alt, and a full transcript of all text in the image is under the cut.

This model has been in a process of expansion and tweaking for a very long time. Huge huge thanks to all the folks who contributed and hunted down photos, helped me name all the colors, and gave the final proofs!

Sparrow's Eye Color Chart 2025 Edition

Eye colors in cats are difficult to model because they vary to a significant extent on two axes. This is my best attempt at a general model of cat eye color based on observation and research into how eye color works across species.

Pigmentation refers to the amount of pigment in the colored layer of the iris. Higher pigmentation causes darker colors.

Refraction means the extent to which light is scattered in the structures of the iris. Higher refraction causes deeper blues or greens.

Eye colors are related to coat color, but not as closely as breed standards might have you believe! Most coat colors can have most eye colors outside of purebred lines selected to meet breed standard.

What Color Are My Cat's Eyes?

Color names are descriptive of the actual color of the cat's eyes - I chose them all to sound nice so that breeders can use them if desired. Note that breed standards have a much broader use of color names - "Amber", for example, may include much of the golden to orange range.

Colors are based on pictures of cats in full white light (such as midday sun fully illuminating the eye), and tweaked to look good on properly color-calibrated screens. Always determine eye colors based on how they look in full light.

Main Block

standard eye colors possible with most pelts

Every cat is assumed to have genes that specify some genetic eye color in the main block, but certain other alleles can depigment the eyes partially or completely, creating the lower block.

Pigmentation and Refraction are modeled here as dependent on multiple genes, which seems to best fit the wide spectrum of possibilities in cats. The actual number of genes is unknown and could be very many, but for simplicity they are shown here on a scale from 1-7.

In theory, the genetic eye colors of the offspring should tend to fall somewhere between the genetic eye colors of the parents. Then, any depigmentation factors are applied, which may result in an actual eye color somewhere below the genetic eye color.

Lower Block

occur with phenotypes which cause depigmentation of the iris.

Gray-blues: Fairly rare coloration. The cause of gray eyes in humans is not well understood, but one theory is that collagen or very small amounts of pigment in the eye alter the scattering of light.

Blues: Most common depigmented colors. Can be caused by white spotting/dominant white, colorpoint, and sometimes mocha. There are also multiple Dominant Blue-eye (DBE) mutations known which cause blue eyes as the main effect.

Albinistic: Caused by complete albinism, which also fully depigments the back layer of the iris meant to keep light from getting through. This allows the red color from the retinal blood vessels to bleed through, and also causes poor visual acuity.

Following is a list of all eye colors shown on the main diagram. Rows are pigmentation levels starting from the highest pigmentation, refraction increases from left to right.

Main Block: Copper, Chestnut, Umber, Walnut, Earthen, Olive, Moss; Ochre, Caramel, Bronze, Serpentine, Artichoke, Fern, Forest; Orange, Amber, Brass, Peridot, Avocado, Clover, Malachite; Saffron, Butterscotch, Shrub, Spring, Jade, Pine, Emerald; Gold, Citron, Pear, Lime, Mantis, Grass, Viridian; Yellow, Chartreuse, Sprout, Laurel, Mint, Turquoise, Teal; Canary, Chiffon, Honeydew, Sage, Celadon, Aqua, Cerulean.

Lower Block: Gray-blues: Frost, Opal, Flint, Storm, Steel, Slate, Cadet. Blues: Ice, Powder, Celeste, Sky, Azure, Lapis, Cobalt. Albinistic: Pink, Mauve, Lavender, Periwinkle, Cornflower, Royal, Indigo.

Combo Colors

Cats can exhibit a few different heterochromia types, most commonly a blue with a non-blue. The other most common cause for heterochromia appears to be localized hyperpigmentation, which can be caused by damage to the eye. It can also happen simply due to differing iris structure or unusual pigment migration within the iris.

It is also relatively common for the center of the eye to be a slightly different color, without being marked enough to constitute full heterochromia. My provisionary term for this is "dual-toned". The boundary between this and "true" central heterochromia is somewhat subjective.

For any form of heterochromia or dual-toned eyes, my recommendation for describing them is to note both colors with a slash. For dual-tones, I generally write the outer color before the center one.

Complete Heterochromia Blue/non-blue is commonly caused by white spotting/dominant white, other combos are rare.

Sectoral Heterochromia Blue/non-blue sometimes occurs with white spotting/dominant white. Can also be from hyperpigmentation.

Central Heterochromia Can occur due to hyperpigmentation, uneven pigment distribution, or iris structure. More common in certain breeds.

Dual-toned Irises Relatively small differences in central eye color are common in cats.

Iris Atrophy Iris atrophy due to old age can cause a distinctive lighter ring in the center of the iris.

All writing, art, and chart design ©Sparrow Hartmann 2025

Icon designs are released to the Creative Commons under a CC-BY-SA license and will be made available for download.

Go to sparrows-garden.com for more genetics resources!

[loonypsychicchild]

(Another response from me to this ongoing bastardy analysises that is bound to happen as this was an issue that the show created and does not seem to be dealing with it well enough as it has no consequence or no commitment to it to explore it well enough except for when they need character to be victims to gain brownie points. )

Starting from the argument that Joffrey was not necessary and too much risk, Rhaenyra should have stopped at 2 children with Harwin aa OP wrote as a response to a comment: You must have an heir and a spare for the Iron throne and the lordship of Driftmark with Joffrey he has a shared dpare for bot of these titles. She doesn't know she will marry Daemon she has to all she can. Also you must know that they live in the medieval era and children die very young even with the noble children. So they aren't like us modern people who can say okay I have done 2 kids it is enough. And this is proved by how her two olderst heirs die in the war they could have still died to diseases before that and she named Joffrey as his heir. The heir some people call unnecessary and needlesly risky was useful, the other kids were too young to be serious heirs. Also arguing a medieval women no matter how magical and royal and well educated would have an idea of planning her pregnancies and children is ludicrous, they are not modern women even if they are thought many things women are seen as broodmares and they don't think a second time about how dangerous and unplanned a pregancy is. Most of the Targ women that say they can't take another pregnancy are still impregnated and they still die. It is not even the general medieval information to understand Westeros, it is in the books that no such thought is given. In fact these girls do not know their sexuality and don't even understand what they are supposed to do in marriage in some occurences. 

While I understand people thinking Rhaenyra acted very dangerously, it is still putting the wrong emphasis on the wrong subject. There was not such an emphasis on this in fire and blood because a clever royal who knows their power can always silence these rumors which is what Rhaenyra does in the books. However the main issue with the fandom's take on the subject comes from the source I think which for many is The House of the Dragon. Because the show gives so much modern understanding of things and modern actions to characters people start to forget these are not modern people and even the most educated of them don't have certain awareness and have reasons to believe they should act in any other way. For all we know Rhaenyra probably thought she needed to have children and she needed to have sex to have children but she did not have been thought to plan these pregnancies because back then women were simple being impregnated according to man's whim. And we must remember Rhaenyra is very young and still a teenager when she has Jace, Luke and Joffrey. She still doesn't understand the game she is playing to a full extent both in the bedroom and the courtroom. So not blaming Laenor who have not tried enough even though having non trueborn sons creates a risk for him and not blaming Harwin Strong who qould kniw better about these things and blaming Rhaenyra does not fit in the in-universe understanding of things as some like to call too. It is okay to blame all of them but no one in the fandom seems to ever mention the two mem in this equation while we have constant endless and same discussions about how Rhaenyra is at fault. And it is about one thing that could be her understandable fault as an heir and not about all of the other mistakes she has done on the show years later after becoming an heir and should be better at it. As she is still a young women who is having pregnancies back to back without much time to understand motherhood in between them is understansable for reasonable people in-universe which is why even tho they can not all men exploit their women. 

Also I simply don't think they have more than very simple understanding of genetics so much so the rumours can be shut down by the ones at power. And it does not even become any part of Rhaenyra's downfall in the books, in universr characters and houses don't have as big of a problem as greens have. It is obvious that only two times this issue is put fort it is Vaemond, Aemond and The Greens, it is just another powerplay to winanother victory in game of thrones. It does not become a victory in any of these times which is why these scenes in the show looks more like used to get an emotional reaction from the audience that an actual problem that will result into something. Also these people do not know about Valyrians and their magical looks, they are just offput about how normal these boys look in the books which has more of George's actual design of events that correlate. As he sees removing a simple rule can break how the story unfolds he does not go long ways to dramatize the events that have no result. In the understanding of Westeros who genuinely don't have any knowledge to make more of these they are just rumors. It comes from lack of understanding in genetics and Valyrian magical people to put it simply. Giving more proof to bastardy by making Valeryons black and Rhaenys not black haired (also not having Harwong Strong and Aemma Arryn's physical descriptiona but that cannot be the case for a TV show so it gets a pass) takes away from the mystery of the heriatge of the boys, which then makes Rhaenyra too stupid to be believable for an heir who has befriended most of the houses in the realm and destroyed these rumors with an iron fist, which you must agree was more capable that the show version of events put her to be. No matter if you believe that the bastardy is true in the book or not book has nuance in a way that cannot be kept in a TV format 1:1 but still a better job could have easily be done in this regard for sure by at least keeping most of the known facts from the books and let the events play out more like how George envisioned them. I think the biggest mistakes of the show comes from not believing George's vision and believing too much that they can do better which resultd in them missing a lot of nuance which gives too little world building to general audience that a lot of the takes start becoming sensless repetition that just does not add anything to the show and only show how some of these decisions do not land as the way they want them to.

Rhaenyra reminds me of those white moms who have kids with a different race father and then refuses to acknowledge that they don’t have the same privileges as her. like she’s had so much privilege and power her whole life she can’t even see the corner she’s just backed her child, her heir into. She’s so dense that it hurts. Jace is right. ALICENT was right. Having three fucking kids with a man whose genes had proved to curb stomp yours IS an insult! Not bc bastards are evil or anything, but it’s a fucking insult to Jace, to Luke, to Joffery to drag them in a situation where they’re constantly demonized for YOUR actions and then REFUSE to own up to it even when your child is begging you with literal tears in their eyes to not take the one thing that saves him from the bullying and harassment YOU brought onto them. At this point, I’m extremely grateful the story ends with the targs in disarray bc none of those white haired fuckers deserve the throne (except for Baela and Jace, with brown hair

And to make it even worse, Jace is RIGHT. When the war is over and your brown haired, pug nosed child who looks exactly like someone NOT his legal father is named heir and you’ve taken his ONLY symbol of legitimacy away what will you do then?? Hmm?? I swear…

[totallyxtaurus]

Depollute me, gentle angel pt.2

Summary: Sylus is away on a business trip while you sink deeper into your depressive episode. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader Genre: Angst, some fluff (maybe, hopefully!) Trigger Warnings: depression, mental health struggles, anxiety, self-neglect, and hints of suicide. A/N: I hope this doesn't feel too rushed! I'm still trying to figure out a good pacing of how I should break these up without them being too long or too short. Posted too quickly or not quick enough, so any advice would be very welcomed and appreciated! I hope I did Sylus justice with his responses, I just took what I would want to hear essentially. But, Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! album is so Sylus coded. I got so many ideas for other fics, so stay tuned! And again, please please please take sweet care of yourselves! 💗

Prev

The chime echoes through the apartment, and for a moment there’s nothing. No footsteps, no shuffle of movement inside. Sylus exhales, fingers softly tapping on the doorframe while he waits. He already knows. He had known the moment communication stopped, when his calls went to voicemail, when even the short, tired texts faded into silence. At first, he assumed you were just busy, needing space. But the longer he waited, the clearer it became—if it were up to you, you wouldn’t come back at all. He began doing his own investigation, looking up the traits you portrayed usually compared to these moments of time and he found his answer. So, he started paying attention. Comparing your usual habits to these stretches of absence. Watching for the patterns. Having Mephisto follow you to your therapist’s office had only confirmed what he already suspected.

As advised, he gave you time—three days, exactly. Then the calls began, gentle and steady, each one a quiet pull back to him. Each time, he waited for you to let him in, to say something. But instead, he got excuses. Busy with work. Out with friends. His personal favorite: just sleeping. It’s almost amusing, how you seem to forget he has your location. He always knows where you are. 

Sylus toys with the key in his hand, should he, or shouldn’t he? Would this cross a line? You had given this to him for an emergency, wouldn’t this be considered one? It has been a full week without hearing from you. He never lets it go this long but work held him up so he couldn’t do his usual routine. He continued to ponder the ethics of his decision until he heard it, movement. A sign of life behind the door that still won’t open up for him. That’s it, he decides and inserts the key. 

As the door swings open, a gust of stale air hits him, thick with stillness. His eyes immediately scan the space, searching for the life he just heard. But as he steps inside, it’s clear- the main rooms haven’t been touched in days, especially the kitchen. He moves toward the bedroom when the bathroom door suddenly swings open. 

Both of you freeze, staring at one another in shock. 

For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking in the hollowed eyes, the tangled hair, the way your clothes sit wrong on you—looser in some places, clinging in others— like they were meant to fit differently but now just hang, like an afterthought. His chest tightens—not in disgust, never that— but in a quiet, constrained ache. He swallows it down, he knows letting you see that pain won’t help. Instead, he inhales, careful, and controlled. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, he hears it. 

Get out 

The words reach him, but his mind trips over them, grasping for meaning. 

For a second, all Sylus processes is the sound of your voice—hoarse, unsteady, faint, as if it took all your energy to speak at all. His mind is still trying to catch up, to piece everything together. But that’s when he really sees you. The way you stand there stiffly, eyes shining with unshed tears, flickering to anything that isn't him. As if meeting his gaze would break your resolve. The tension in your jaw, arms crossed tightly over your chest, shoulders hunched forward, as if you’re shielding yourself from him. And then he sees it—fear. Shame. They were there all along, laced with the exhaustion and neglect. Deeply settled, lingering long before he walked in the door. He had been so focused on finding you, making sure you were safe, that he hadn’t realized���you didn’t want to be found. Not like this. 

The tightness in his chest twisting further, a quiet reminder of his mistake. Instead, he exhales in that same rehearsed way.

"Sweetie," he tries again. His voice was low, full of gentleness. Less of a greeting, more of a reassurance. He’s not going anywhere. 

You just shake your head, a silent refusal, as if willing for him to disappear. Your stance is firm, guarded. But Sylus isn't someone who retreats at the first sign of a challenge. Especially not when it's you. 

"I know kitten, I know you don't want me to see you like this. And I know you think that pushing me away will make everything easier for you, for me. But it won't, it hasn't. You don't have to do this alone." 

He sees the tears start to fall, a quiet surrender that he takes as a response. Without hesitation, he continues, his voice softer but unwavering.

Taking a small step forward, slow yet deliberate as he speaks, "Just focus on me for a second, okay? Forget about everything else, it's just us. Can you breathe with me, my love?" As he demonstrates with measured, even breaths. Never forcing, just offering, hoping it will bring your attention back to the present instead of whatever thoughts you're trapped in.

He notices the way your hunched shoulders drop, relaxing slightly, and how your clenched arms finally loosen their grip on your body. He continues to encourage you, taking slow, careful steps closer. 

"You don’t have to do anything big. I’m not here with any expectations. Why don’t we just sit down? We don’t have to talk, I’ll just sit with you, if that’s okay." His voice is soft, low, coaxing. 

Sylus notices the immediate shift in your demeanor as you register his close proximity-the shield coming back as your body goes rigid once again. You close back in on yourself and take a step back. 

You should go. I stink and I'm sure I look horrific; you mutter as your hand comes up to your face to shield it. His heart pangs, but he doesn't let his expression falter. He can't afford to let you see how much it hurts him that you're hiding from him like this. He takes another small step closer, never pushing, just allowing the space between the both of you to remain as it is. He doesn't want to make you feel trapped, but he wants to show you, prove to you, that he's not leaving.

"Kitten," his voice steady and carrying a weight of reassurance deeper than words can convey. "I'm not leaving. If I wanted to, I would. You know I don't do things I don't want to. But I'm here, for however long you want me around. I'm yours." 

You scoff, shaking your head, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Why?" you ask, voice cracking. "Look at me, smell me, Sylus. Jesus Christ I'm disgusting. Why would you want to stay? Are you nuts?" 

"It's been suggested," he cuts in, his tone remaining gentle yet firm. Finally, you look up at him, and the anger in your gaze takes him by surprise but he holds his ground. 

"You just don't get it," you emphasize, your words sharp and full of frustration. "What's there to get?" he wonders but doesn't dare to speak it. "Sweetie," he says tenderly, "if this is you at your worst, then I've suffered far worse than this. You think I haven't smelled, or hit rock bottom before? When I did-or if I do sometime in the future, would you leave me? Would you push me away" 

"Don't be ridiculous," you say, your voice tinged with exasperation. His lips quirk into a soft smirk, his eyes never leaving yours.  

"Can I hold your hand?" he whispers, watching you closely, waiting for your response. You hesitate, then barely nod, just enough for him to catch it. He takes your hand in his, lifting it gently to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the way your face scrunches up, a grimace of discomfort, but the smile on his lips remains warm and unwavering. 

"How about this," he continues, his voice calm and coaxing, "I'll make you something small to eat. You don't have to finish it. Just one bite. No pressure."  

You pause, your mind working through his offer. Until, after a moment, your shoulders sag in defeat, and with a sigh, you agree. Your hand still secured in his, he leads you to the kitchen, placing another kiss on the top of your head before turning to the fridge to pull out what little food there is. 

"After we eat, can you shower with me?" The words barely escape your lips, so faint that for a moment he's unsure he heard them. He looks at you, hoping his love for you radiates in his gaze.

"Of course," he replies, his voice steady and sure. "Whatever you want, my dove." He watches as the faintest of smiles flicker across your face, the kind of smile he's willing to wait for, no matter how long it takes. 

Tag list: @withering-dream @madam8 @t4naiis @sunhooniez

[lascvitae]

❦ — the beginning of an era

synopsis. after landing a main role in an upcoming kdrama, y/n moves away from home to fulfill her dreams. upon arrival, it seems that her co-star has taken a newfound interest in her.

pairing. actress!minjeong x actress fem!reader genre. fluff(?) warning(s). none.

word count: 1.3k

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: okay so i wanna make this a mini series and i have a few ideas in mind but if you guys have any scenarios or ideas then please don’t hesitate to send an ask!!



series masterlist.

it was around twelve pm once y/n finally landed in the heart of south korea, miles away from home for one of the first times ever.

almost a month earlier she received a call that changed her life. she had been casted the main role of an upcoming kdrama and while she had to move to a serviced apartment in the city, it was everything that the girl dreamed of doing since the age of five.

ever since that point she had starred in musicals, as background extras, side characters and even the younger version of main characters. yet with all of that experience, it felt like something was missing. something that she had just found.

the countless billboards gave her a glimpse of the bright future ahead— there were tons of famous celebrities, some who she couldn’t even name. but there were definitely a few that stood out the most.

there was jun jihyun, who owned numerous awards for her talent and not too far away was song hyekyo. everyone that y/n laid her eyes upon had a high level of fame and it filled her heart with hope for what was to come.

today was the day she would meet her co-stars and the place that she would be calling ‘home’ for the next few months.

leaning against her luggage as she patiently waited for the vehicle to arrive, a few buses passed by to pick up the other pedestrians. only one bus caught her attention.

plastered onto the side of the bus was one of the most well-known actresses in the industry — kim minjeong. y/n studied the advertisement for a lip balm with an intrigued smile. she could already see her own face on the side of a limousine bus.

minjeong wasn’t only known for her amazing performance on camera but also due to her kind-hearted nature. there probably wasn’t a single/ bad video of that girl on the internet. even if you hated some of her characters, it was impossible to hate her. though, most co-stars would mention that she is ‘slow to warm up’ and can even come off as rude or bratty at times.

a black suburban parked in front of y/n, snapping her out of her out of the mini-daydream, reminding her that it was now her turn to leave her mark on the world.

while y/n strolled her luggage towards the trunk, a man dressed in a black suit and tie cane around to grab everything for her. “let me grab this for you.” the man extended a hand, carefully taking the luggage with ease and securing it into the back. “thank you.” y/n muttered.

once he assured that his precious cargo was settled, the vehicle began to move and y/n let out a breath she had no idea that she was even holding.

all of the buildings that seoul fostered allowed a crumb of homesickness to sink in, wiping the smile clean off of her face. she looked down at her phone, seeing the message from her mother and best friend, aurora.

rory 💓

‘i miss u already 🥺🥺 u better text me everyday!!’

Sent 9:37 AM

my queen bee ❤️‍🔥

‘Don’t overwork yourself, honey. i’m always one call away if you need me. -Mom’

Sent 6:17 AM

my queen bee ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

‘I’m here to support you in any way you need.’

Sent 6:17 AM

the messages resulted in a pout and y/n decided to put her phone away before a tear could form, forcing herself to look outside of the window.

to her surprise, the car came to a stop a while ago and she hadn’t even realized it. the driver was already working at her luggage, opening up the door for her.

“thank you.” she held her purse as she eagerly stepped out of the vehicle, mouth agape from the tall building that stood before her. while y/n had achievements of her own this felt like a new key to stardom, there were even intimidating bodyguards standing at the entrance. there were paparazzi surrounding the building but it didn’t seem like they could get in.

y/n felt a rush of relief at the security system implemented.

with a singular look they granted the two of them access and they were on the way to the elevator.

the interior of the lobby was gorgeous, decorated with long chandeliers and colors along with gold that were visually perceived as expensive. almost every single intricate detail caught y/n’s eye as they settled into the spacious elevator.

“is this your first big role?” the driver, or what he seemed more like, the assistant asked y/n. she smiled nervously. “could you tell?”

he shrugged, not wanting to offend the girl. “a little bit. don’t worry, you’ll love park seonho. he’s a great director.”

her eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

she had only met the casting director so this was news to her — park seonho was one of the directors that y/n had respected the most. it gave her so much motivation for the show that she had to hold back a squeal.

once the elevator ding indicated that they had made it to her floor, y/n followed the man to her new apartment.

“um, how do these work?” she sheepishly asked as the door swung open, her mouth following quickly behind.

the apartment was huge — and it wasn’t short of how luxurious the lobby was decorated. there were more seats in the living area than y/n could have imagined herself needing, she had just moved away from her hometown after all. the only person she knew was the mother of the baby that couldn’t keep quiet in the plane seat next to hers. all she could do was gasp as they walked further inside.

“i don’t have much information on that part. your neighbor arrived about an hour ago. she’s your co-star.” he set down all of y/n’s luggage before heading for the door.

“by the way, you can call me mr. kim. i’ll be your driver for the next six months, miss y/n.” the girl bowed as he introduced himself, and just as quickly as he arrived, he had departed.

the spacious apartment building left y/n speechless and so that she couldn’t procrastinate about it later, she began to unpack all of her bags. her mystery neighbor proved to be a powerful distraction, though.

to fulfill the never ending curiosity, y/n swiftly traversed to the door adjacent to her own. with three knocks, she put on the brightest smile managable.

after a few seconds passed the door finally swung ajar and y/n wasn’t sure of what she recognized first. the short blonde hair, the rosy pink lips or the shirt that revealed a sliver of the girl’s infamous abs.

“hello.” she greeted with a bow, instantly recognizing her co-star. at this moment y/n realized that she was staring, or even gawking at this point. but how could she not? it was none other than kim minjeong.

“h-hello.” she returned the bow, blinking to confirm the girl before her eyes.

curiosity piqued, minjeong’s lips curled into an interested smile. “i’m looking forward to working with you…” she trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

“y/n.”

“y/n. perfect. i’m min—“

“i know who you are, it’s okay! i’m — um, i’m looking forward to working with you too.” the smile on her face widened. “of course.”

y/n chewed at her lower lip. “so, uh, how do these work exactly?” minjeong seemed slightly confused before she understood the question and why you were asking it. “it’s like a hotel. housekeeping will stop by every wednesday and it should already be fully furnished. at least, i hope that was the case.”

y/n wasn’t sure if she was nervous or if she genuinely found her words funny but a light hearted chuckle escaped the lips she had been nibbling at. “it was. thank you, minjeong.”

“no need.” she offered another kind smile. “you know where to find me. you should settle down.” the door closed shortly after that and y/n could feel her heart trying to escape the restraints of her chest, hitting herself in the head a few times.

“why did i stutter like that?” the whispered sentence was only audible to her as she glanced at the end of the empty hallway before hiding inside of her apartment. y/n had just made her first friend in korea. kim minjeong. one of the most talented women in the country.

and they were neighbors.

the next six months were going to be a roller coaster.

perm taglist — @saysirhc @aedollie @prologue-ae

[sterredem]

Unexpected

Ferrari!driver!Reader x Jason Todd/wayne

Summary The world hates Y/n, but she loves Jason.

Warning slut shaming, hate, not proofread, spelling mistakes

A/N Sorry for the hiatus! Also I guess this kinda turned into a DC crossover? Been kinda into it and then I got this request sooo…… there is no mention of the superhero’s but you can imagine what you want! (Jason’s last name os Wayne)

This was a request!

Instagram

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Yourusername Almost the start of the season! I’m so exited to finally get in the car and do what I love.

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User1 why are all het posts so dry??

User2 Ugh why is she even in f1?

User3 huh why? This is so random??

User2 well she’s not even good and the only way she got here is cause she slept with one of the higher ups

User3 huh???!!!

User4 this feels so pr scripted…

User5 she’s so cute tho…

User6 Points!!!

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Y/nPriv wknd dump: 1. Should I post this on main?? 2. Baking for the engineers cause they lovely 3. Readingg 4. My new hat😄 5. Watching Harry Potter 6. A bts from my car!

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Bsfuser 1. YES 2. You are too nice 3. Always 4. It’s cute! 5. Why wasn’t I invited :( 6. If you invite me than I can see it fr….

Y/nPriv 1. Okayyy 2. No.. 3. Yes 4. Thx love 5. Sorryyyy… 6. …….

Sisteruser y’all are so weird

Sisteruser can you come over and bake for me……?????

Y/nPriv do you only want me to come over so you can have free food?

Sisteruser ………..no…….

Friend1 cutie

Friend2 wait when are you gonna tell me how the gala went??

Y/nPriv soon my love. We should get lunch when I’m back and I’ll tell you about it!

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Podcast

Vironica: Hello everyone, and welcome to a nee episode of Formula One talk!

Sara: Hi guys!

Vironica: So today, we will talk about something that you guys have waited for for quite a while.

Sara: Yes! We will talk about Y/n Y/l/n! She is, currently, the only female driver on the grid, and we don’t know a lot about her, but today we will begin this episode with discussing her and her performance on the track!

Vironica: I couldn’t have explained it better! So if you slept under a rock, or if you are new to f1, this year is the first year in a very long time that a female driver on the grid. That female being Y/n Y/l/n. She made it where she is now quite fast, she is currently 21 and this is her first year on the grid.

Sara: Yes, and that is also basically everything that we know about her. She is a very private person, so the only thing we know is her age, how she got up to f1, a few of her close family, and the things she shows us on instagram. Which is not a lot, and a lot less than that we know about the other drivers.

Vironica: Yes, and I think that that is what started the negative opinion on her. With not a lot known about her, people are, obviously, going to think things. And that is what happened. Because Twitter immediately began spectating a lot of thing, and Sara, you have a few examples.

Sara: Yes, alright, I won’t say who tweeted it for privacy reasons. So here we go! ‘The reason that Y/n is so private is 100 percent because she did some shady things or whatever’ and ‘the only reason we know nothing about Y/n’ real stop shops is cause she never had a real one and only has one night stand like a sl*t’ the next one is ‘Y/n is so weird to me, like she loves all these nerdy things and loves all these geeky things, so how could she possibly be good at driving?’ And the last one ‘there finnaly being a woman on the grid and it being Y/n is such a disappointment, like we finally get some one that can maybe make a difference and it is the girl that is too scarred to say anything, yet alone stand against an entire group of people and speak up’

Victoria: Okay so there are some very mean things said, but there is also a layer of truth to some of it. And also, the only other thing that is known about her is that she loves movies, reading and baking. Which is totally different than formula 1 racing, so that raises the question of if she is really fit for her spot and this life. And a lot of people see her as wierd, we included, because how in the world can a girl that for not care at all about her public appearance, is now a very public figure, more than the other drivers because she is the first women in many years to be on the grid.

Sara: exactly! And then to top it all off, we haven’t really seen her interacting with the other drivers, so it could go both ways, either they all hate her, or there is something going on behind the scenes that we don’t know. And fans have been speculating about how the WAG’s thing about her, with them not saying anything, so would they be jealous, and is there a reason to be? We will be going further into it in this episode along with other things F1!

Comments

F1Fanatic valid tbh

User I think it is kinda mean but some points are valid, because why enter F1 if you don’t want anything from your life public?

User7 I hate girls being mean to girls

Y/nfan why are people so mean tho??

L4fan cause she deserves it…

Hshsh I think this may go a bit far…..

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Yourusername Thank you so much to the Wayne family for inviting me to the gala! It was such an honour to be there

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WayneEnterprises We are happy that you were there!

User7 WAIT WHAT???

User8 Insane that she was there!!

WayneJ Great to have you here!

User9 crossover from the century

User10 Does this mean they are now a sponsor ooorrr…..

User11 Probably now because otherwise Charles and other Ferrari people would be there…

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Yourusername first race of the season! I am so grateful for this amazing opportunity, and we already have points! This was such an amazing week and I am looking forward to more weeks like this!

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User12

User13

User1

User2

User3

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Article

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Yourusername I heard a little rumour….

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Alexandrasaintmleux I want what you have tho

Yourusername honey you have everything I want

Lilymhe I think I may want to hear it too…..

Yourusername I think I may want to tell you suddenly

OllieBearman wait what. Am I late??

LilyZneimer cant wait to see you!!

Francisca.cgomes DM me please right now

Kimi.antonelli uuuummmmm what is going on??

Kellypiquet I also heard something…. Not sure what it is…

User0 I love how this is not only her confirming the rumours between her and Jason but also silencing the haters and those podcast people and also the other WAG’s backing her up!

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Yourusername @WayneJ sooooo secrets out I guess….. happy anniversary Jason

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User4 OMG IM DYING WTF

User5 She a gold digger 100%

User6 bro she’s literally a f1 driver that basically means she’s a millionaire

User7 already a power couple

User8 IM FERAL THEY ARE SO HOT HEBHDGWHSBB

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WayneJ @yourusername already our first anniversary….

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User9 THEY ARE SO CUTE

WayneDamian bro’s a simp

Bruce_Wayne Be nice to your brother

Timdrake This is how I find out???

Dickgrayson congrats? How could you keep this a secret for one year tho???

User10 ALL THE WAYNE FAMILY IS HERE!!!

User11 OMG FINALLY SOME MORE CONTENT FROM MY FAVOURITE DRIVER!!

User12 I ALREADY LOVE THEM!!

User13 this is actually soooooo cute I CABT ANYMORE

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It might be a bit mixed up but I started writing when the last season was still going on, and I changed it to the current season…

[stormy-talks]

Depends on the game.

Skyrim? Skip the story and go right to Riften because I'm gonna be a wood elf marksman thief. EVERY time. I don't try to 100% this game but I did try to collect every single book in my old PS3 save file.

Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom? I'm going to take my time and explore all the little things to see between main quest points. Might take some photos, do some fetch quests, complete random shrines I come across. I'm trying to 100% these games but it's in parts. These are mostly explorer-type games for me.

If it's Minecraft, I kinda forget that it even has a story and I'll spend a LOT of time scouting an area for my house (typically close to a village), building a house, leveling up the local villagers, and hoarding way too many items all organized into at least a dozen chests. There is no 100% for this game (unless you count the music discs?)

Banjo-Kazooie/Tooie and Donkey Kong 64 are fun collect-a-thons and I try to 100% them on every single playthrough. I think I've done it at least once for each game.

I 100% completed the original Wind Waker. That one is always a completionist game for me.

Super Mario 64 is a speedrun game for me nowadays, but I've gotten 100% several times over.

Bugsnax is a socializer game. Talk to EVERYONE. Same with Undertale. They both have amazing characters and they both also happen to be simple to complete 100%.

(Side note, "completionist" has been ruined for me as a word.)

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 22

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: Angst, tension, feeling of betrayal, mentions of loss of appetite, arguments, this ones a looooooong one

The sun is beginning its slow descent by the time I finally drag myself out of bed. My body feels heavy, like I’ve been carrying the weight of the world in my chest. I need something, anything, to ground me, and right now, a cup of tea sounds like the only thing that might help.

That’s the plan. Go to the kitchen, make it, and come straight back up to my room. I’ll sit on my balcony and watch the last bits of sunlight disappear while I think about what to do next.

 But my main goal: avoid Matt.

I slip out of my room, moving as quietly as possible. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself. The house is silent apart from the distant murmur of voices outside on the patio. I catch a glimpse through the window, figures sitting around, but I can’t make out exactly who. Not that it matters. I’m not stopping to find out.

The only sound that gives away my presence is the low whirl of the kettle. I stand there, staring at it as it heats up, feeling every second drag out like an eternity. I grab a mug and put the tea bag in it so as soon as it clicks off, I can pour the water and milk, moving quickly but carefully. Just get in, get out.

Successfully, I make my tea. 

Mission accomplished. 

Now, I just need to make it back upstairs.

But just as I start up the steps, the sound of the patio door sliding open sends a jolt of panic through me. 

Shit.

I don’t even turn to see who it is, I just pick up my pace, practically going up the steps two at a time.

I reach the top of the stairs and turn the corner, then..

BAM.

I nearly spill my tea everywhere as I slam into someone, my breath catching in my throat. I look up, and my stomach drops.

Matt.

For a split second, time slows. His eyes lock onto mine, searching, but I don’t give him the chance. Like I’m on autopilot, my feet keep moving, my mouth stays shut, and I walk right past him without a single word.

I don’t stop. I don’t hesitate. I reach my room, step inside, and lock the door behind me.

I let out a shaky breath, gripping my mug a little tighter. I try my best to shake it off. It was just a few seconds. Just an unfortunate encounter in a house that now feels way too small.

I know I’m going to have to face him sooner or later. There’s no avoiding it forever. But I’m not ready right now, not for a one on one, not for the inevitable conversation.

So, instead of dwelling on it, I step onto the balcony. The sun is slowly dropping lower, so I sit here and try an appreciate the sky, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe..

Until there's a knock at my door.

I freeze.

No. No, no, no. If this is Matt, I swear to god.

But then I hear a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

“Y/n? It’s me.”

Nick.

Relief washes over me so quickly it almost knocks me over. I exhale, setting my tea down on the small table before walking back inside. I hesitate for just a second before unlocking the door.

Nick steps into the room, his expression soft but searching mine. "How you doing?"

I shrug lightly, forcing a small smile. "I'm okay.. I just made a cup of tea. Was gonna sit out on the balcony while the sun sets."

Nick nods, his eyes flicking toward the open balcony doors. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Of course not" I say, stepping aside so he can follow me out.

We settle into the chairs. The silence between us is comforting, a huge difference to the chaos of the past twenty four hours.

After a minute, Nick clears his throat. "I ran into Matt coming up the stairs."

My body stiffens, fingers tightening around my mug. "Oh."

“I just asked if he had spoken to you yet, and he said no."

I huff out a breath, looking back toward the view. I take a slow sip of my tea before turning back to Nick. "So, what's your plan for the night?"

He leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I'm gonna go meet that guy."

I raise an eyebrow. "That guy? You’ve been talking about him for days, and I still don’t even know his name."

Nick hesitates, his expression shifting slightly. He looks at me like he's bracing for something.

I narrow my eyes. "Nick.. what?"

He winces, rubbing the back of his neck. "His name is.. George."

For a second, we just stare at each other. Then, at the exact same moment, we both burst out laughing.

"George?!" I manage between laughs.

"I know! I know!" Nick groans, covering his face. "I was hoping you wouldn’t ask."

"I'm sorry, but that’s just- " I laugh harder, shaking my head.

Nick grins, finally giving in. "I know I never pictured myself with a George but I swear, the way he is makes up for it though!"

"I'm sure it does.." I say, still giggling. "It's just.. George."

We end our fit of laughter and I don’t bother asking what everyone else’s plans are, especially after overhearing Chris earlier. My guess is he’s going to meet Rachel. Whether Matt tags along to meet Christina too is a different story. I don’t want to know. All I know is that I’m not moving from this room.

Nick doesn’t press the conversation any further, and I appreciate that. Instead, we sit there, laughter lingering in the air between us. I'm glad Nick came into me because suddenly I feel a little bit lighter.

Eventually, he checks his phone and sighs. "I should probably start getting ready."

I nod, still staring at the sunset. "Yeah. Have fun."

Nick hesitates for a second before standing. "You sure you’re good?"

I glance at him, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I’m good." I mean it is a lie, but he doesn’t call me out on it.

He squeezes my shoulder before heading out. I exhale, setting my empty mug down on the table beside me. I know I should eat something, try to distract myself, maybe even attempt to sleep, but I don’t move. I stay curled up in my chair, staring at the fading sky, wondering how everything changed so fast.

When I finally move to my bed, I pull the covers up around me, but even laying here feels weird. The sheets feel awful against me now, tainted with memories that once brought comfort but now only make my stomach churn. My mind spirals, picturing how easily our history could be replicated in his bed, with someone else. The thought makes my chest tighten, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting it all to stop.

I take a deep breath, then another, but it doesn’t help. My mind keeps circling back to the same place, the same questions, the same ache in my chest that refuses to go away. How could he do this? Did any of it mean anything? Was I just another passing moment for him?

I need to make it stop.

I turn onto my side, curling into myself, exhausted from it all. Being honest, my eyes hurt that much from crying, I don’t find it hard to fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning determined to be a new woman. I have a shower to wash away all of yesterday's sorrow, before pulling out the smallest blue bikini I could find. I make my way downstairs and throw myself together a small breakfast, considering I haven't eaten in over 24 hours but not forcing myself too much as my appetite still isn't fully back yet.

I take my breakfast outside to the patio and I settle onto a lounger, my plate resting on my lap. The villa is silent. Everyone must still be asleep, sleeping off their drunken choices, their reckless mistakes.

Good. I need the peace.

I take a slow bite of my food, staring out at the water. The pool glistens under the morning light, the water undisturbed. Today is a new day. A fresh start.

I adjust my sunglasses and stretch out after putting my plate under my lounger, determined to soak in the sun and let it warm the parts of me that feel cold and bitter. If anyone sees me out here, I want them to see that I’m unbothered. That I’m fine.

A few minutes pass in silence before I hear the sliding door creak open behind me. I don't turn to look. I don't react.

I realise it’s Nate and Nick coming out, both looking more awake than I expected.

"Morning" they say in unison, and I greet them with a small smile “Morning early birds.”

I turn to Nick first. "Soooo? How was your night with George?"

Nick rubs the back of his neck, and I can tell he’s holding back his excitement for my sake. "It was good" he says simply.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Nick."

He sighs, then finally lets the grin slip through. "Okay, fine. It was great, actually. We got drinks, had a laugh. He’s funny, really easy to talk to."

I smile at him, genuinely happy. "That’s what I like to hear. You deserve a good time."

Nick gives me a look, like he’s checking if I really mean it. I do. Just because my love life is a disaster doesn’t mean I want everyone else to be miserable with me.

I turn to Nate next. "And what about you? What were you up to?"

Nate stretches his arms over his head, looking far too well rested. "Didn’t move from my bed. Best sleep I’ve had in weeks."

I laugh. "Of course you did. You look like you just got back from a spa retreat while the rest of us look like we barely survived the night."

The three of us settle into conversation, and for a moment, I let myself enjoy the lightness of it. But in the back of my mind, I know this moment won’t last. The rest of the villa is still asleep, for now. And soon enough, I’ll have to face the reality I’ve been trying to avoid.

"Is Chris up?" I ask Nate, trying to sound casual.

Nate shakes his head. "Don’t think he even came back here last night."

I swallow hard, nodding slowly. "Oh right"

There's been no sign of Matt either. That tells me everything I need to know.

Guess that means he went out with Chris and stayed with Christina last night again.

I should’ve expected it, but expecting something doesn’t make it hurt any less.

For the rest of the morning, it stays just me, Nick, and Nate chilling outside. The sun climbs higher, and the villa remains quiet, no sign of Chris or Matt. I sip on my water, listening to the distant waves crashing on the shore, slipping in and out of conversation with Nick and Nate as a distraction.

By midday, that peacefulness is interrupted. I hear the sliding door open, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching.

I lift my head slightly, peering through my sunglasses. Chris and Matt step outside together. Just seeing them like this, together, appearing at the same time, only further confirms what I already knew. 

Matt was with Christina last night.

I can feel my heart break over again, but I refuse to let it show.

Without a word, I rest my head back down on the lounger, keeping my sunglasses on, blocking them out. I’m not ready for any type of conversation. Not yet.

Nate and Nick casually greet them, like nothing is out of the ordinary. Chris stretches, rubbing the back of his neck, and asks if anyone’s hungry.

My stomach twists at the thought of food. The second I saw Matt, my appetite vanished again. So I keep my mouth closed.

Nate says he is and disappears inside with them, leaving just me and Nick alone by the pool.

The quiet settles between us for a moment before Nick turns to me. “Are you coming to dinner tonight?” His tone sounds like he wants me to be there, even though he understands If I don’t want to.

I hesitate. The idea of sitting at a table with Matt, pretending everything is fine, feels impossible. I open my mouth to say no, but Nick is already cutting me off.

“You don’t have to talk to him at all” he reassures me. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

I exhale, chewing on my bottom lip. I do feel bad if I don’t go. It’s just dinner, right? I mean, the tension between Matt and I is like old times, nothing I haven’t had to deal with or experience before. The only thing is, the feeling in my chest is a hundred times worse than it ever was before.

“Okay” I finally say. “I’ll come.”

Nick grins, tapping my arm lightly. “We’ll have a good time, I promise.”

I nod, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift.

By now, it’s nearly 3pm, and the sun has drained me but nowhere near as much as the situation with Matt has. The exhaustion clings to me, both physical and emotional, and I know if I don’t rest now, I’ll be useless later.

“I think I’m gonna go for a nap” I mumble, pushing myself up from the lounger.

Nick gives me a small smile. “Good idea. I’ll wake you if you’re not up in time.”

I nod again, grateful, and make my way inside. The second I hit my bed, the world around me fades.

When I wake up, the air in my room feels heavier, the remnants of my dreams still in my brain. I shake them off and head straight for the shower.

By the time I step out, wrapped in a towel, I feel better. Maybe, tonight won’t be as bad as I think.

I walk out and go to sit at the vanity, but I feel like I need to lift the vibe even more.

A drink and music.

That’s what I need if I have any chance of enjoying myself tonight.

Still in my towel, I make my way downstairs, moving quickly so I don’t run into anyone. I pour myself a vodka lemonade, throwing pieces of ice into the fancy glass.

Running back up to my room, I shut the door, take a sip, and set my speaker on full blast. I turn on It’s ok, i’m ok by Tate McRae, the lyrics hitting a little too close to home. I let the music drown out my thoughts as I start getting ready, determined to feel like myself again, even if it’s just for tonight.

I move through my routine on autopilot, letting the music and the slight buzz from my drink carry me through. I’m not overthinking my outfit, my makeup, or my hair, yet somehow, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I look effortlessly put together. Maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s the fact that I’ve just given up on caring, but either way, I feel like this is the best I’ve ever looked.

I pick up my phone and text Nick, asking him to come to my room to take pictures. It barely takes a minute before he’s knocking on my door, slipping inside with an approving grin.

“Damnnnn!” he says, dragging the word out. “You look amazing.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my lips. “You have to say that.”

“I really don’t” he laughs, already pulling his phone out. “We need evidence of this moment.”

We take a few pictures together, Nick hyping me up between shots, making me laugh just enough to keep it natural.

When we’re satisfied with the pictures, I wonder where it is we’re actually going to eat. “So, where are we even going for dinner?”

“Some Italian place Chris booked” Nick says, glancing at his phone. “He said he made the reservation earlier.

I nod, I love italian food, so I’m hoping this whole thing is just easy. I grab my purse, double checking that I have everything, phone, keys to the villa, money. I take a deep breath before heading downstairs with Nick.

The moment we step into the foyer, I see them. Chris, Nate, and Matt are all standing together, talking casually like nothing has changed, like the last few days haven’t flipped my world upside down. Matt looks up first. For the briefest second, our eyes meet, and I swear I see something flash across his face, it’s something, but I can’t make out what. But I don’t let myself dwell on it.

I adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder, forcing my expression to remain neutral. This is the closest I’ve been to Matt since the nightclub, since everything, but I refuse to let it get to me. Not tonight.

I tilt my chin up slightly, gripping onto my confidence like it’s my lifeline, and step forward like I don’t have a care in the world.

I stay locked in conversation with Nick as we leave the villa to make our way to the restaurant, trying to distract myself from the tension in the air. Chris lingers back slightly, eventually matching my pace as we walk. His presence next to me is quiet at first, almost hesitant, before he finally speaks.

"You okay?" His voice is low, careful, like he already knows the answer but feels the need to ask anyway.

It’s a weird one. I haven't heard from Chris since everything went down. He’s been distant, not in a hostile way, but in a way that tells me he didn’t know how to approach me. And now, here he is, finally asking.

I glance at him briefly, weighing my response before settling on, "I will be."

Chris nods slowly, seeming to accept that answer. “Can we talk later? About everything?”

I exhale softly, not quite ready to dive into whatever everything entails but knowing that it’s overdue. I don’t think there was any malice from him in this situation. And I’m not mad at him at all. I would like to know what his thought process was throughout all this. And maybe, he's actually done me a favour. “Yeah,” I agree. “Later.”

That seems to be enough for now. The group keeps moving, making our way toward the restaurant. When we arrive, the guys step inside ahead of us, but I notice them mumbling amongst themselves, their voices low and almost hurried, like there’s some sort of confusion.

Something about their body language makes me pause, and I follow their line of sight before realizing exactly what has caught their attention.

Rachel and Christina.

They’re seated at a table near the back. Five empty seats are pulled out beside them, waiting.

A sharp, sinking feeling settles in my stomach.

Of course. 

Of course they’re here. It was already bad enough having to see Matt, to sit across from him and pretend I wasn’t still breaking, but now, this?

I don’t even have to look at him to know. I can feel his presence, his hesitation. I wonder if he knew they’d be here. If this was always the plan.

My fingers tighten slightly around the strap of my purse as I will myself to keep my composure.

This night just got a whole lot harder.

Nick squeezes my hand gently, a silent reassurance that he’s here, that I’m not alone in this. “What do you wanna do?” he asks quietly, his voice just for me.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “Sit at the other end” I say, keeping my voice even, refusing to let this shake me any more than it already has.

Without hesitation, Nick follows my lead, guiding me toward the farthest end of the table, away from Rachel and Christina. I slide into my seat, positioning myself as far as I can from them, while Nick sits beside me, his presence like a barrier between me and whatever mess is sitting across the table.

Matt and Chris take their seats. Chris next to Rachel and Matt next to Christina. Whether it was planned or just happened naturally, I don’t know, but it doesn’t make a difference, the damage is done. 

The tension is suffocating. You could cut it with a knife. I never thought at the start of this trip I’d be sitting diagonally across from Matt and another girl.

Nobody speaks at first. There’s an awkward shuffle of menus being picked up, the quiet clinking of silverware as waiters move around us, but no real conversation. 

I keep my gaze down, focused on the menu even though I’m not really reading it. My appetite had started to come back earlier, but now? Completely gone again.

Nick, ever my lifeline in this nightmare, leans in slightly constantly making sure I’m okay. “You good?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I nod once, though I’m not sure if I mean it. “Yeah” I lie. “I’m fine.”

But we both know I’m not.

I try to keep my focus on the menu, pretending to be absorbed in the options, but it’s impossible to ignore Christina. She is relentless, shifting in her seat so she’s angled toward Matt, her body language screaming interest. The way she leans forward, the way her fingers reach out casually to graze his forearm as she talks, it’s all so intentional.

“Oh my God, Matt, you look so good tonight” she purrs, tilting her head as she studies him. “Did you do something different? Your hair? A new cologne?”

Matt barely reacts, only offering a tight lipped smile as he glances at her briefly. “Uh, no. Same as always.” he replies, going back to his menu.

But Christina isn’t deterred. She lets out a soft, exaggerated sigh. “God, I can’t believe we’re all in Hawaii together. It feels like such a movie moment, don’t you think?” She flicks her gaze up at him through her lashes. “Like, if this was a movie, we’d be the main characters.”

Matt huffs a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, don’t really take myself as the main character type of guy.” His tone is light, but there’s no real engagement. He’s keeping it neutral.

She’s not giving up, though. She leans in again, dropping her voice to something more sultry. “You know, I had so much fun the other night” she murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. 

My stomach twists, but I don’t react. I refuse to. Instead, I lift my glass of water to my lips, taking a slow sip as if I’m completely unbothered.

Nick shifts beside me, subtly kicking my foot under the table as if to say don’t react. I know he’s watching me closely, waiting for me to crack, but I won’t.

Chris, who’s been silent this whole time, suddenly clears his throat. “Christina, didn’t you say this was your first time in Hawaii?”

It’s so obviously a distraction tactic, and I can’t tell if he’s doing it to get her off Matt’s back or because he knows I’m sitting here, silently absorbing every word.

Christina finally tears her gaze away from Matt and glances at Chris. “Oh, yeah it is.” she says, waving a hand dismissively. 

Matt doesn’t say anything. He just flips a page of the menu, like none of this is even phasing him. Meanwhile, Rachel is watching me like a hawk, waiting for a reaction.

I meet her eyes for a split second and give her the most nonchalant look I can muster before turning to Nick. “What are you getting?” I ask, my voice steady.

Nick glances at me, eyes scanning my face for any sign of weakness before answering, “Probably the carbonara.”

I nod. “Good choice.”

Nate, ever the sweetheart, seems to pick up on everything, the way I’m keeping my head down, the way Nick keeps a protective presence beside me, the way Matt and Christina’s exchange is unfolding just within earshot. Without missing a beat, he slides into conversation with me and Nick as he’s seated opposite us, as if we’re in our own little bubble, separate from the tension on the other side of the table.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Nate asks, leaning forward with a smile. “I was thinking of heading down to the beach early. Maybe rent a jet ski or something. You two in?”

Nick catches on immediately, grateful for the shift in attention. “Absolutely. I’d love to see you wipe out within the first five minutes.”

Nate pretends to be offended, placing a hand over his chest. “Excuse you, I’m actually a professional. Very experienced!”

I can’t help but smile at their antics, grateful for the distraction. “Professional, huh? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Nate smirks. “Oh, you will. And when I leave you both in my wake, don’t come crying to me.”

Nick scoffs. “Yeah, okay, Nate. Keep dreaming.”

As we laugh, it’s almost easy to forget the rest of the table exists, almost. Because out of the corner of my eye, I see Chris sitting stiffly, glancing between me and the rest of the group, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He hasn’t even touched his menu. He just sits there, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, like he’s caught in the middle of something he never signed up for.

At one point, he opens his mouth like he wants to say something,to me, but then he hesitates, pressing his lips together instead. His fingers drum restlessly against the table. It’s almost like he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but he can’t.

I keep my focus on Nate and Nick as everyone gives their orders, letting them carry me through the moment, keeping me occupied. And for now, that’s all I need.

The food arrives shortly after, and I focus on my meal, keeping my eyes down, keeping my composure. If I just get through dinner, I’ll be fine.

But Christina doesn’t make it easy.

She just doesn’t stop, her voice carrying just loud enough to ensure I hear every flirtatious remark, every exaggerated giggle. It’s all so obvious, the way she leans toward Matt, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger. 

“Oh my God, Matt, you’re so funny” she forces, brushing her fingers against his wrist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He hasn’t even said anything that funny.

“We should totally do something after this!” Christina continues, tilting her head. “Maybe check out that tiki bar? It would be so fun.”

Matt doesn’t commit. “Maybe.”

Maybe.

That single word twists something in my stomach, because it means he hasn’t outright said no. And I know it shouldn’t matter but that doesn’t stop the sting.

As everyone starts discussing where to go next, I stay quiet, already knowing my answer. The only place I want to be right now is home. I only ever agreed to dinner, nothing more. The idea of trailing behind while Christina continues her performance, while Matt does whatever he’s doing, is unbearable.

I lean toward Nick and quietly tell him, “I’m heading back.”

He nods in understanding, not even questioning it. “That’s fair. I’ll go for one drink, then I’ll be home after. We can debrief, I’ll try to get more info.”

I manage a small smile at that. If there’s anyone I can count on to feed me the details later, it’s Nick.

We both stand, and I feel Chris’s eyes on me, but I don’t meet them. If he wants to talk, he can find me when I’m not on the verge of either snapping or crying.

Nick walks me to the taxi rank just outside the restaurant, following behind me as we weave through the crowd. I should want to stay out, to drown out my thoughts with drinks and distractions, but all I want is to be alone.

“You sure you’re okay going back on your own?” Nick asks as we wait for a taxi to pull up.

I let out a breath. “Yeah. Just over it.”

Nick doesn’t push. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

A taxi pulls up, and he opens the door for me. Before I get in, he squeezes my hand briefly, just a reminder that I’m not alone in all of this.

I nod my thanks, slide into the backseat, and as the car pulls away, I finally let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

I pull up to the villa and thank the taxi man, paying him for the fare. I step out of the car and as I do one pulls up directly behind me.

I freeze for a second, my stomach tightening as I watch Matt step out of the taxi behind me. Of all people, of all times, it has to be him.

I don’t wait for him to say anything. I turn toward the villa, walking quickly up the steps, my heels clicking against the cobblestone pavement. I take my keys out of my bag, unlocking the front door.

I can hear him behind me, his footsteps unhurried, like he’s debating whether to call my name.

“Wait” Matt’s voice finally breaks the silence, and I feel his presence closer than I expected. “Can we talk?”

I let out a slow breath before turning to face him, the front door slightly open behind me. His eyes search mine, like he’s trying to figure out where my head is at.

“Talk about what, Matt?” My voice is steady, but I can feel the exhaustion creeping in.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost.. nervous? “About this. About everything.”

“I’m not too sure what there is to talk about” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ve seen it all. I saw Christina in your bed. I saw how she was with you tonight.”

Matt’s face falls, and he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but I don’t let him.

“And now, what? You think you can stand here and make some sorry excuse for your actions? Do you even realize how disrespectful that is?” My voice rises slightly, frustration taking over. “You can’t just act like nothing happened, Matt. You don’t get to do that.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well, it’s a bit too late for that now.” I say, my voice sharp. 

"I’m sorry." he mutters.

I let out a short laugh. "Yeah. So am I.”

Matt stands there looking at me, almost confused.

“I'm sorry I let you play with me for so long. Sorry I let you in, that I actually believed there was something real between us. But it’s clear now, isn’t it? Whatever tension was there, it was only ever sexual for you."

Matt steps forward, opening his mouth to protest, but I cut him off.

"So what now?" I snap, my voice shaking with anger. "What’s your next move? You feel bad for how you’ve treated me, so you’ll do what? Buy me flowers? But never actually give them to me? Did you ever track down Christina’s ex to get her locket back too? Or was that just a special little stunt for me?"

I let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking my head. "And don’t you dare try to tell me you haven’t been with anyone else since that night in the house. Christina basically spelled out what happened in Vegas to me at the club.”

Then realisation hits me. “It makes sense to me now, the real reason you customised your jacket that way. You didn’t do it because you felt something for me. You did it so if the topic of her in Vegas came up, you had something to sway me from believing it, so you could keep stringing me along.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Can you please listen to me? I didn’t even know they were coming out here” he says quickly, almost desperately, like that one fact will make any of this better.

I scoff, shaking my head. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes a lot” he insists, stepping forward. “Chris was the one that brought them out here, he has a thing with Rachel and probably just-”

"-wants to smash?" I finish for him, my voice sharp. 

"Yeah, Matt, I know. Just like you said before, that Chris only gave me a job because he wants to smash?" I tilt my head, watching as realization dawns on his face. "Yeah. I heard you when you said that."

Matt shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never meant that" he mutters. "I swear, I didn’t mean it like that."

"Oh really?" I fold my arms, my patience running dangerously thin. "How exactly did you mean it then, Matt?" My voice is sharp, no bullshit. "Because it sounded a lot like you were trying to discredit any of the work I do."

Matt exhales sharply, looking away. "It wasn’t about that, okay?" His voice is tight, like he’s struggling to find the right words. "Maybe I was jealous, maybe I was pissed off at the whole situation, maybe I just-" He stops himself, his jaw locking.

"Maybe you just what?" I push, my voice rising slightly.

His silence is louder than anything he could say. And then, it hits me.

I let out a hollow laugh, shaking my head. "Oh my god. It was projection, wasn’t it?" I take a step closer, my words like a slap to the face. "You said Chris only gave me a job because he wanted to smash, but really, that was just you speaking for yourself. You only ever kept me around because that’s what you wanted."

I take a breath, my heart pounding. "And congratulations, Matt. You got it."

Matt’s face falls completely.

"And then you got it from her too, only a matter of hours later." My voice is laced with disgust, and I see the tears welling in Matt's eyes, but I don’t stop. "It’s obvious to me now, you never had feelings for me. You never cared."

I take another step closer, my chest rising and falling with the force of everything I’ve kept inside. "I know you saw me leave the club that night. I know you saw me walk out. And not once did you check on me. Not once did you care enough to see if I was okay. It was like, out of sight, out of mind. I disappeared, and you moved on like I was nothing."

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "And then you brought her back here, to the same villa I’m staying in, to rub it in my fucking face? Like this is some sick joke to you?" And then to keep doing it, over and over again, like it wasn’t enough to break me once?" My voice shakes, but not from weakness, from the sheer weight of the betrayal burning inside me. "You didn’t just move on, Matt. You made sure I saw it. You made sure I felt it. Like twisting the knife wasn’t enough, you had to keep pushing it in, again and again."

I shake my head, my breathing uneven. "And for what? To prove a point? To get back at me for something you thought I’ve done? Or was it just fun for you? To watch me fall apart while you played pretend with her?"

Matt’s mouth opens like he wants to say something, to defend himself, but I cut him off before he can even try. "No. Don’t. Because there’s nothing you can say that will make this okay. Nothing you can do that will undo the fact that you chose this. You chose to hurt me. And I’m fucking done." I spit, my chest rising and falling with the force of everything I’ve held back. 

"Because all you’ve ever done is choose to hurt me. Over and over again, like it’s second nature to you." I stop for a second to catch my breath, realising how pointless this all is. "I don’t even understand why you’re standing in front of me right now, when what you want is down at the bar with everyone else. Stop bothering me, and go back down there and get it."

Matt looks at me, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, like he wants to argue. Like he wants to fight his case. But he doesn’t get to, not now. Not after everything.

"In fact" I breathe out a bitter laugh, shaking my head, "don’t ever think of speaking to me again. Because it’s clear now, Matt, we were always better off when we didn’t speak. When we just ignored each other. Maybe that’s what we should’ve stayed."

My heart is hammering in my chest, my entire body shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me. 

I turn around and storm into the villa, slamming the door so hard behind me that the walls seem to shake with the force of it. But he doesn’t follow. He doesn’t even try. Probably heading straight back down to the bar to get exactly what he wants. What he’s always wanted.

My blood is boiling as I march into my room, every step fueled by the sheer rage burning inside me. I feel like a bull, seeing red, ready to destroy everything in my path. But I don’t, because I don’t have time to waste on any of this anymore.

I grab my phone with trembling fingers, my vision blurring from unshed tears as I unlock it.

 I can’t stay here.

I refuse.

I pull up the American Airlines website, my breathing heavy, my chest rising and falling too fast. I don’t even hesitate as I search for the first available flight back home. 

The sooner, the better.

And when I find one, first thing tomorrow morning, I don’t even think twice. I press confirm before I can second guess myself, before the pain can catch up with me.

I’m leaving.

I’m done.

a/n : OOOOF. thats gotta sting.

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[supernotnatural2005]

'Happy Accidents'

Pairing: Dean x Plus!sized Reader

Summary: You haven't seen the Winchester's in over a year, but the case you're working has you scratching your head, and who better to call than some old friends. However, insecurities arise as well as the reprise of a long time crush. Little do you know, it's reciprocated.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/tags: Dry humping! (18+Only), fluff, mutual pinning, Plus!sized Reader, body insecurities, curvy girl appreciation, swearing.

AN: Okay so this is my first time writing for a more specific reader body type, but being a curvy-girl myself it was interesting to implement it into a story. And with Dean being the appreciator? Yes please! 😍 I know this might not cater to all of you, but I'm inclusive to all y'all ❤️ Also taking some inspo from @bejeweledinterludes post for this one and @zepskies Midnight Espresso series, which is honestly one of my favourite series and stories featuring a Plus!sized reader!! I do hope you guys like this one! 💕

Main Masterlist

You hadn’t seen the Winchesters in over a year.

Not since that hunt in Nebraska—the one that went sideways fast. The one that left you with a busted-up ankle and Dean with a fresh scar along his jawline. The one where, after all was said and done, you parted ways with an easy “See you around,” never expecting “around” to take this long to come back.

But when a case cropped up—one that twisted your gut with unease—you hadn’t hesitated. You picked up the phone and called the only people you trusted to have your back. If anyone could help, it was them.

And now, sitting in a dimly lit bar, waiting for them to arrive, your nerves were shot. Maybe it was the case. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d changed since they last saw you—since he last saw you.

That old, ridiculous crush on Dean Winchester hadn’t gone anywhere. That much had become painfully clear the moment he picked up the phone, his voice as deep, gravelly, and cocky as ever. But now, with time apart and the weight of your own insecurities pressing down, the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist.

You had always been curvier, carrying stubborn weight around your thighs, ass, and middle. But in the last year, you’d softened even more. Life had been quieter, with less running and fewer adrenaline-fuelled hunts. You were still strong, still capable, but you felt different. And you knew the type of women Dean gravitated toward—tall, slim, easy.

You were none of those things, and you never would be. And that was okay. But it was a niggling fact that had always lingered in the back of your mind, that had stung each time the three of you got together and you watched him charm someone else. Someone who wasn’t you.

A warm, unexpected hand on your shoulder brings you out of your darker thoughts, with a slight gasp, startling you a little.

“Easy there, sweetheart.”

You turned, heart stuttering as Dean stood there, grinning down at you like no time had passed at all. And damn it all, he looked the same—scruffy and stupidly handsome in that effortless way of his, jeans snug on his hips, flannel worn open over a snug black tee. Sam stood just behind him, offering you a softer, more knowing smile.

“Hey, boys,” you manage, hoping the warmth creeping up your neck isn’t as obvious as it feels. You slip off the barstool, nerves buzzing, but force yourself to keep it together.

Dean’s eyes flick over you—quick, but thorough. For a split second, something unreadable flashes across his face, but it’s gone before you can place it.

“Missed us that bad, huh?” His smirk is pure Dean, cocky and teasing, slipping back into the easy rhythm of your old banter.

You roll your eyes, but are grateful for it. “Don’t flatter yourself, Winchester.”

But your voice is softer than you mean it to be, and when you turn to Sam, pulling him into a warm hug first, you feel Dean’s gaze linger.

Then you step up to him, hesitation curling in your chest—but before you can overthink it, his arms are around you, solid and warm, pulling you close like no time has passed at all.

That familiar scent—woody, spiced, edged with leather—wraps around you, grounding you, unraveling you. For a second longer than necessary, you let yourself sink into it, just this once.

The three of you settled into a booth once the bartender set down your drinks. Sam took the seat across from you, while Dean slid in next to you, his presence a little too warm, a little too distracting.

“So,” Sam started, taking a sip of his beer. “What are we looking at?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “A few people have gone missing over the last month—no bodies, no traces, just… gone. I’ve ruled out everything I know of. There’s no signs of a struggle, no sulphur, no EMF spikes. It’s like they just vanished into thin air.”

Dean frowned, brows knitting together. “And no patterns? No connection between them?”

“None that I could find.” You shook your head. “That’s why I called you guys. I was hoping fresh eyes might help.”

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, both equally puzzled but already slipping into hunter mode.

“Well, we’re here now,” Sam said, ever the problem solver. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, feeling some of the weight lift. “We’ll go over everything in more detail tomorrow. Tonight…” You glanced between them, the tension of the case momentarily fading. “It’s just good to see you both.”

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed warmly, raising his bottle. “To old friends.”

You clinked beers with him, and Dean followed suit, but as your bottles met, his eyes locked onto yours. There was something there—something lingering, unreadable, sending a flicker of warmth through you. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone, masked behind an easy sip of his beer. You swallowed, shaking it off as nothing more than a trick of your mind.

The more the beers flowed, the easier it got. You caught up, swapped stories, and fell into familiar rhythms.

Dean was as quick with his smart-ass remarks as ever, and the two of you naturally fell into your usual back-and-forth. Sam, as always, was the long-suffering audience to your antics.

At one point, you and Dean tag-teamed a particularly brutal roast of Sam—this time about the time he’d gotten sick on a case and tried to insist he was totally fine, only to end up passing out face-first into a hotel’s continental breakfast buffet.

“Oh, come on,” Sam groaned, shaking his head as you and Dean laughed. “That was years ago.”

“And yet,” you grinned, “I can still hear the sound of your face hitting that tray of scrambled eggs.”

Dean snorted, nudging his knee against yours under the table. “Dude, you took out the whole table. That poor old lady thought you died.”

Sam huffed, rolling his eyes as he pushed his beer away. “Yeah, and that’s my cue. I’ve had enough of you two for one night.”

You laughed, but before you could say anything, Sam stood, shaking his head. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” He pulled you into a quick, brotherly hug, and you squeezed back.

“Night, Sammy,” you murmured, watching as he strode toward the door, leaving you alone with Dean.

You half-expected him to call it a night too, but instead, Dean didn’t move. If anything, the second Sam walked out, he seemed to settle in more, arm stretching along the back of the booth, fingers barely grazing your shoulder. The casual touch sent a ripple of awareness through you, but you forced yourself to act normal, reaching for your drink instead of acknowledging the way your heart had picked up speed.

“I think I’ll stick around a little longer,” he said casually, surprising you.

Your heart kicked up a notch, but you welcomed the company. “Yeah?”

Dean smirked. “Yeah. We got a lot of catching up to do.”

And so you did. The conversation flowed effortlessly, laughter slipping in between shared memories and stories of the road. Some cases were so bizarre they barely seemed real, and a few had you nearly crying with laughter. Time seemed to pass in a blink of an eye, the bar thinning out around you, and you barely noticed.

At some point, Dean just sat back and looked at you. Really looked at you. His expression softened, head tilting slightly as he took you in, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, he shook his head and muttered, “Damn, it’s really good to see you.”

The sincerity in his voice knocked the breath from your lungs.

Your lips parted, a response on the tip of your tongue, but nothing came out.

Dean huffed a small laugh, eyes still studying you like he was committing you to memory. “You look good, too.”

The words weren’t rushed, weren’t casual or offhanded. They were steady, like a thought he’d been holding onto for a while.

Heat crept up your neck, and you let out a small, nervous chuckle, dropping your gaze to your drink as you toyed with the condensation on the glass. “Yeah, okay.”

Dean shifted, leaning in just a little, enough that the space between you felt smaller, more intimate. “I mean it,” he said, quieter this time, voice dipping low.

All you could think was; what the hell is happening here?

Dean had never been like this with you before. Sure, he flirted—it was second nature to him—but not like this. At least that’s what you’d always believed. Had you just never noticed? Had you missed the way he looked at you before? Or had something changed?

Swallowing, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, only to find his eyes sweeping over you—slow, deliberate. No hesitation. No teasing. Just appreciation.

His gaze flickered to your lips.

The air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken, something you weren’t sure you were ready for, but part of you wanted to reach for it anyway.

Then—

“Last call!”

The bartender’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.

You exhaled sharply, the moment shattering as you snapped back to reality. A part of you wanted to stay frozen in it, let whatever this was between you and Dean unravel, but instead, you reached for the safest thing to say. "We should head back."

Dean nodded, standing with you, hands shoving into his jacket pockets. But even as you stepped out into the crisp night air, the tension didn’t fade. If anything, it followed you like a shadow.

The walk back to the motel was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the crunch of gravel under your boots. The air was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat still thrumming under your skin. You kept sneaking glances at Dean, only to find him already looking at you, eyes dark, thoughtful, unreadable.

He was close—not touching, but his presence was all-consuming. The scent of leather and whiskey clung to him, mixing with the crisp night air, making your stomach twist with anticipation.

When you finally reached your door, you hesitated.

"Well… this is me," you said, voice coming out lighter than you intended, a small, nervous chuckle slipping past your lips.

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile as he looked down at you. "Yeah."

But neither of you moved.

The air shifted again, crackling with something dangerous, something inevitable.

Dean’s gaze flickered lower—tracing the curve of your mouth, watching as you unconsciously pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. His pupils dilated. His breath hitched and something in his expression darkened.

"Fuck it."

The words barely left his lips before he was on you, crashing into you with a hunger that sent you stumbling back against the door. The force of it stole your breath, his mouth devouring yours, needy, desperate, like he’d been holding himself back for years and finally gave in.

A muffled sound of surprise left you, swallowed instantly by his lips, but it only took a second before you melted into him, your fingers fisting the open lapels of his jacket, anchoring yourself against him.

It was hot and messy, all teeth and tongue, the kind of kiss that left you lightheaded and aching. His hands were everywhere—gripping, pulling, claiming—sliding over your hips, your back, fingers digging into your flesh like he never wanted to let go.

You fumbled for the door behind you, barely registering how you managed to get it open before tugging him inside.

Dean groaned against your mouth as the door clicked shut, his hands already working your jacket off your shoulders. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this," he murmured against your lips, voice rough, breathless.

Your stomach flipped, your heart fluttering at the implication—the confirmation that this wasn’t just heat-of-the-moment lust. This was Dean. Wanting you. For who knew how long.

A moan slipped past your lips in response because forming actual words wasn’t an option—not with his hands gripping you tighter, not with the way he was kissing you like he was starving.

You barely noticed when you reached the little loveseat, your room provided, until the back of his knees hit it. Taking advantage of his momentary imbalance, you shoved him down onto it and climbed into his lap.

Dean groaned, head tipping back slightly as his hands found your hips, gripping tight. Touching you like he’d always wanted to. His fingers dug into the soft curve of your thighs, your ass, holding you like he couldn’t get enough.

You stiffened for half a second. The way his hands moulded to your body, the way he held you there so easily—so greedily—made your head spin.

You’d spent years second-guessing what guys thought when they touched you, wondering if they found you too much, too soft in places you’d been taught to shrink. The idea of straddling Dean, of all people, should’ve sent a jolt of insecurity through you. Should’ve had you hesitating.

But then Dean’s hands tightened—fingers pressing into your thighs, squeezing like he couldn’t stand not to have you closer. A deep, rough sound rumbled from his chest, his lips breaking from yours just long enough to groan, "Jesus—fuck."

The way he said it sent fire straight to your core.

He wanted you like this. Craved it. He wasn’t just tolerating the way your body pressed against him—he was obsessed with it.

As if to prove the point, his grip turned bruising, his hands dragging you even closer, pulling you down into him, despite the small part of you that feared you might be too much.

Dean grunted, his head dropping forward slightly, his forehead pressing to yours. "Goddamn, sweetheart."

A rush of confidence flooded through you, drowning out every lingering doubt.

And then you moved.

You rolled your hips, testing, teasing—just enough to feel the hard, undeniable evidence of how much he wanted this. Wanted you.

The friction was incredible, sending a bolt of pleasure up your spine, making you bite back a moan.

Dean’s breath hitched. His fingers dug into your flesh, his entire body going rigid.

That only made you do it again. Slower this time, deeper.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, his hands twitching on your thighs like he was trying to keep himself together.

"Fuck—" His voice was raw, strangled, almost pained.

You could feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle coiled tight as you ground against him, feeling the delicious pressure between you, the way his cock strained beneath his jeans, thick and hot against you.

Suddenly, his hands snapped up to your waist, gripping hard, stilling you.

You barely had a second to register it before—

Dean shuddered. His whole body tensed beneath you, a choked grunt ripping from his throat as his fingers dug into your flesh, his head tipping back against the couch.

He went still, and it took you a second to realise.

Dean Winchester had just cum in his jeans.

A rush of heat flooded his face, his expression shifting from shock to pure horror. He blinked up at you, wide-eyed, mortified.

"Oh, fuck." His voice was barely above a whisper, his hands still gripping your hips, as if he was trying to process what the hell had just happened.

Your lips parted in surprise. Then—a slow, wicked grin spread across your face.

"Did you just—?"

Dean groaned, head dropping back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. "Don’t. Just—don’t."

But you couldn’t help it. Because holy shit.

You’d just made Dean Winchester cum in his jeans.

If that wasn’t the biggest ego boost of your life, you didn’t know what was.

Leaning down, you pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, revelling in the way his breath stuttered. "That," you murmured, lips brushing against his ear, "is the best compliment I’ve ever gotten."

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he melted under your touch, his hands hesitantly sliding up your sides, gripping your waist like he needed to anchor himself. When he finally looked up at you, the humiliation still lingered, but something warmer, something softer, began to take its place.

His green eyes flickered over your face like he was memorising you. His throat bobbed with a swallow. Then, suddenly, he let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.

"God, I’m sorry," he huffed, running a hand down his face, still half-stunned. "You’re just—" His eyes swept over you, dark and reverent as his hands followed, tracing over the curve of your hips, the swell of your full breasts, the thickness of your thighs. His fingers flexed, like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed to feel every inch of you to believe this was real. "Fucking gorgeous."

Heat rushed to your face, your stomach flipping as you instinctively tried to shy away. But Dean was already there, his thumb pressing lightly under your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

"Hey," he murmured, his lips twitching into something wicked and sweet all at once. "Give me five minutes," his hands slid around the curve of your hips, then lower, grasping large handfuls of your ass, his fingers digging in like he couldn't help himself. He groaned, low and deep, pressing you closer, like he needed you to feel just how much he meant it. "And I’ll really show you how much I want you."

Your own lips curled, mirroring his. "Five minutes, huh?" You couldn’t help but hum as he kissed along the column of your throat, his lips soft and warm, his teeth grazing, sending a shiver down your spine.

His grip on you tightened, kneading the flesh beneath his hands, and another groan rumbled through his chest, when you shifted in his lap again and you felt the unmistakable twitch of him against you.

"Okay, make that two," he muttered, his voice rough with renewed hunger.

You laughed, and he grinned against your skin at the sound, before pulling you in and claiming your lips in a hot, deep kiss once more.

“Besides,” he mumbled between kisses, “I wanna sample the goods first, anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, about to retort, but then you squealed as he abruptly lifted you into his arms, carrying you over to the bed like you weighed nothing. With a playful smirk, he dropped you onto the mattress unceremoniously, making you bounce with a giggle.

Dean climbed in after you, hovering over you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his expression turning unexpectedly tender. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he admitted, voice quieter now, raw and honest.

Your heart fluttered.

"Then show me," you whispered.

And as his lips met yours again, slow and deep, Dean swore he’d take his damn time proving just how much he did.

AN: So this just popped into my mind, I hadn't planned on posting, but had to get it out 😅. I know this doesn't cater to everyone it's a little more reader specific, but, it's just another reason to love Dean! 😍

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel @piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse @impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[temis-de-leon]

Cuteness aggresion

Characters: Lucifer, Diavolo and Barbatos (x gn!reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Anon request: Hear me out: reader with cuteness aggression with Lucifer, Dia, and Barbatos!!

.

Lucifer

“You’re so cute, I could just… grab your face and eat you whole…”

“I beg your pardon?”

There have been very few times in your relationship where he has encountered himself pinned under your enthusiasm with no way out, and this happens to be one of them.

Sure, he enjoys it whenever he gives you some sense of control every once in a while, but only because he knows he can regain it at any moment. He is, after all, significantly stronger than you.  

So when you show up at his office for no other reason than to see him, the last thing Lucifer expects to happen is for you to hop on top of his desk, grab his face with both hands and stare at his cheekbones with the eyes of a predator.

He can feel your nails deep in his nape and your body radiating heat like a furnace, but it’s the intensity of your gaze what he can’t ignore. The seriousness in your voice matched with the pondering in your eyes.

Are you actually considering doing it…?

He gently brushes you off, but doesn’t make you leave, and tells you with a red face and a furious expression that you should really, really control yourself.

Have some decorum, MC.

Diavolo

“I wish I could absorb you, Dia”

“Absorb me?? I’m afraid I must disappoint you, MC”

And he’s not exaggerating with his words. It really pains him to disappoint you, especially regarding something like this.

Diavolo loves it when you show your affection through more “obvious” means, ignoring what is appropriate and suitable for someone like him. He loves your bone-crushing hugs, the kisses that transform into ruthless bites and, weirdly, the scarce times when you start smelling his cologne only to sniff his entire presence.

You say it’s because his natural smell is more addictive, but that only serves to indulge you more.

However, it proves to be better to carry on with your impulses in more private settings. That way you don’t get any unwanted reprimands or interruptions and he gets to enjoy every part of your ministrations; as bizarre as they may be interpreted from an outside perspective.

That’s how you find yourselves tangled in one of the sofas in his room, your body absolutely wrapped around his in an attempt to be as close as possible. Your joints ache from the strength of the grip and the position is not entirely comfortable, but, somehow, you wish you could be even closer.

And Diavolo, of course, never complains.

Barbatos

“You use so much sugar, I bet you taste just like that”

“There’s just one way to find out, isn’t it?”

Despite his teasing and welcoming comebacks, there will always be an element of surprise in response to your words. You can see it in the way he faintly blushes and stares, eyes open wide for a split second.

There’s a part of him that doesn’t expect your aggressive advances, but don’t be mistaken; he enjoys them very much.

Of course, he’d prefer it if you showed him your affection in strictly private settings. Barbatos is as professional as one could ever be and he has always kept his private life separate from his job, so having you nipping his cheeks and grabbing him hard enough to leave the imprint of your hands on his skin will only happen when it’s just the two of you.

For some reason, the whole situation feels especially intimate when you find yourselves in the castle’s kitchen. The Young Lord is hopefully working and the rest of the service knows not to intrude and disturb the intimate bubble whenever you visit him.

Your obvious need to revel in his presence makes him happier than he’d ever be able to admit; words can’t express how fast his heart beats each time your teeth suddenly sink into his skin with the sole purpose of savouring his being as a whole or when you hug his midsection so hard he can feel a shift in his guts.

You don’t only make him feel wanted; you make him feel needed.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[inlovewithpandora]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ FIRST TIME FLUTTERS ᝰ You and Miguel feel the baby move in your belly for the first time.

Music Advisory — Miguel O’Hara x fem!preg!reader // fluff, domestic!miguel, established relationship [married couple], mom!reader & dad!miguel, pregnancy [second trimester], emotional [happy tears], belly rubbing + kissing, Miguel speaking Spanish [google translations included]

Duration — a little under 1.0k words

Words from Artist — This was such a cute and fun little Drabble I wanted to write with Miguel because I love writing him w/ prego!reader and I was inspired when I seen this tiktok couple (the video is so cute🥹!!). I have some longer fics in the works for him with prego!reader but I wanted to post something short/quick for him. As always feel free to comment and reblog, I enjoy reading y’all reactions and would love to hear your thoughts <3

Current Platforms — Main M.list・Atsv Taglist・Navigation

The quiet hum throughout your home is soothing while the scent of Miguel’s cologne lingers in the air and your favorite choice of music plays softly in the background. You're currently sitting on the couch, curled up in one of your husband’s oversized shirts, while your hand rests gently over your belly. At nearly five months pregnant, your baby bump is becoming more prominent, a constant reminder of the life that’s constantly growing inside you.

Miguel’s in the kitchen, finishing up dinner. Tonight is one of the many times he insisted on cooking for you instead of letting you lift a finger since you revealed to him that you were carrying his child. He’s been extra attentive lately, always making sure you’re comfortable, well-fed, and not pushing yourself too hard.

While your mind begins to wander on the baby, wondering if she’ll have more of your features or Miguel’s, you notice that the soft flutter you felt earlier this morning has returned feeling a little more prominent than before, like tiny butterfly wings brushing against your skin. Earlier you assumed your mind was playing tricks on you, you’ve been so excited to feel your baby girl moving inside your womb that you assumed your body mimicked the feeling of flutters but now that the feeling is more profound you know that it's real, that you're actually feeling your baby move for the first time.

“Miguel!” 

He appears into your line of sight in an instant, his sharp features softening when he sees the expression on your face. “What’s wrong, cariño?” His voice is laced with concern at first, not knowing what’s going on but when he notices the way your hand is cradling your belly, his brows raise in curiosity.

“She’s moving,” you whisper, your smile growing as you continue to feel movement in your belly. “I can feel her.”

Miguel’s eyes widen at your statement, and without hesitation, he comes by your side, kneeling in front of you so he can feel your daughter making her presence known. His large, callous hand replaces yours on your belly, his touch surprisingly gentle as he tries to find the magic spot. “De verdad? [really?] She’s moving?”

“Yeah, right here.” You place your hand over his, guiding him to where you feel movement. For a few moments, nothing happens, Miguel can’t feel anything and you can see the faintest trace of doubt cross his face. But then, the flutter comes again, soft and unmistakable, and his eyes lit up with pure wonder. “There she is,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I can feel her.”

He presses his hand more firmly to your belly while his other hand covers yours, wanting to feel your touch. “Mi niña hermosa [my beautiful girl], it’s me, your papá. Can you feel me?” 

You watch as his usual stoic demeanor melts away and you can see the softer and emotional side of him that only you get to see. Miguel bends closer, his lips brushing against your belly as he begins to speak to the baby. “Hola, mi amor. [Hello, my love.] I’ve been waiting to meet you. You’re already so strong, just like your mamá.” He kisses your belly gently, his voice growing thick with emotion as he imagines what life will be like raising a child with you. “Tu mamá y yo te amamos tanto. [Your mom and I love you so much.]”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion as you run your fingers through his dark hair, watching him pour his heart out to your unborn daughter. “You feel her again?” you ask softly, blinking away your tears, trying your best not to cry but the moment is just too heartwarming not to.

He nods, a tear slipping down his cheek as another flutter greets the palm of his hand. “Sí [Yes], she’s moving so much now. She knows we’re here.” He presses multiple kisses your belly now, moving his hand to different places on your flesh as he speaks life into his unborn child, wanting her to feel his love before she even takes her first breath. “Te prometo, mi niña, que siempre voy a cuidarte. [I promise you, my little girl, that I will always take care of you.] You’ll never have to be afraid, not while I’m here.”

His voice cracks as he speaks, and he looks up at you, his dark red eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “She’s really in there.” He says almost in disbelief, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes shift between you and your belly.

You let out a little chuckle while you nod in agreement, tears streaming down your cheeks as your hand rests on the back of his head, gently rubbing your thumb against his skin. “Yes. She’s really in there, Miguel.”

Miguel straightens up, sitting on the couch with you as his hands keeps their current placement, protectively on your belly. “I’m going to be the best dad I can be for her.” Ever since you told him you were pregnant he’s made it his mission to become the most dedicated husband and father possible. His usual reserved and serious demeanor has softened ever since he found out, and despite his mind racing with concerns about the future holds, the risks, or his own responsibilities, he’s fully committed to doing his best. 

You lean your head against him, pressing your head against chest and wrapping your arm around his. “I already know you will be. She’s so lucky to have you.”

After a moment, Miguel leans over slightly, his face level with your belly once again. He rested both hands on either side of your bump and pressed another kiss to your skin. “Te amo, mi princesa. [I love you, my princess.] I can’t wait to meet you. You’re going to be amazing, just like your mamá.” He rubs slow circles on your belly, his lips brushing against it as he whispers against your soft skin.

Once Miguel is done talking to your unborn child, he pulls you into a deep embrace, wrapping his arms around your body and your belly as if he could shield you both from the world. “We’re going to be parents.” you whisper, your voice breaking, trying to keep your emotions in check but due to pregnancy hormones it’s harder than usual.

He nods in agreement, kissing the top of your head, excited for what the future holds for the two of you. “We’re going to be the best parents.”

Fanbase — @migueloharasoulmate @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @tater-tot0423 @theitgurl2 @miguelsesposa @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @maxlynn17 @kxllanxtdoor @ban-al3x @beargracecanbeanyone @miguellover6969 @3zae-zae3 @mellagzz @h3art-l3ss-blog1 @taylormarieee @popeheywardssecretgf @onlyloaksgf @solanawrld @baizzhu @savagemickey03 @soilmayo @lilmiss-stussy @pixiesrealm

[hayatheauthor]

Hello! I just found your blog and I love it!! How would I write a good protag's best friend character (or sidekick but not really) Much appreciated!!!

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took me forever to get to it

How to Write a Protagonist’s Best Friend (Without Making Them a Sidekick!)

A great best friend character does more than just stand beside the protagonist, here are some tips to help you capture that:

What Makes a Best Friend Character Strong?

A well-written best friend character has qualities that make them stand out on their own. Here’s what sets them apart from a generic sidekick:

They Have Their Own Story – They shouldn’t exist just to serve the protagonist’s journey. Give them goals, conflicts, and motivations that intersect with the main plot but don’t revolve around the protagonist.

They Balance the Protagonist – A best friend should contrast the protagonist in meaningful ways. Maybe they challenge the protagonist’s worldview or complement their weaknesses with different strengths.

They Change Over Time – Just like the protagonist, they should grow. Their relationship with the protagonist should evolve based on the events of the story.

For example, in Percy Jackson, Grover is not just comic relief—he has his own mission (finding Pan, proving himself as a protector), and his strengths (resourcefulness, empathy) balance Percy’s impulsive nature.

What Role Should They Play in the Plot?

A best friend character shouldn’t just be there for emotional support—they should impact the story. Here are some ways to make sure they play a meaningful role:

Driving the Plot – Have them take actions that change the course of the story. Maybe they uncover crucial information, make a decision that alters the protagonist’s fate, or even become a source of conflict.

Acting as a Foil – A best friend often highlights the protagonist’s strengths and flaws through contrast. Are they more cautious while the protagonist is reckless? More idealistic, while the protagonist is cynical?

Having Moments of Leadership – The protagonist shouldn’t always be in charge. Let the best friend take the lead at times, making key choices that drive the story forward.

Common Mistakes to Avoid

Even well-meaning writers can accidentally flatten a best friend character. Here’s what to watch out for:

Making Them One-Dimensional – If their entire personality is “supportive and loyal,” they’ll feel like a cardboard cutout. Give them flaws, ambitions, and struggles.

Using Them as a Plot Device – They shouldn’t just show up to deliver emotional support or conveniently solve problems for the protagonist. They need to have agency.

Forgetting Their Growth Arc – Just like the protagonist, they should be affected by the events of the story and change accordingly.

A common complaint about Ron Weasley’s character in later Harry Potter books is that he sometimes feels like just a sidekick, while Hermione and Harry have more direct influence on the plot. Had Ron been given more individual agency in key moments, his presence might have felt stronger.

How to Develop Their Relationship with the Protagonist

A strong friendship isn’t always smooth sailing. Consider:

Conflict & Tension – Friends fight. Maybe they disagree on how to handle a situation. Maybe one feels overshadowed by the other.

Moments of Distance – Do they ever drift apart? Are they forced into situations where they can’t rely on each other?

Loyalty vs. Individuality – The best friend doesn’t always have to be on the protagonist’s side. Maybe they make a choice that goes against the protagonist’s wishes.

Examples of Well-Written Best Friend Characters

Here are some standout best friend characters and what makes them strong:

Samwise Gamgee (The Lord of the Rings) – Sam is fiercely loyal, but he’s also stronger than Frodo in many ways. He makes tough calls, pushes Frodo forward, and carries both emotional and physical burdens.

Inej Ghafa (Six of Crows) – Inej is Kaz’s closest ally, but she doesn’t just follow him blindly. She has her own sense of morality, her own trauma, and her own dreams beyond him.

Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games) – Peeta isn’t just a love interest—he challenges Katniss emotionally and strategically, making choices that directly impact her fate.

Robin (Stranger Things) – Unlike the stereotypical “supportive best friend,” Robin has her own quirks, insecurities, and motivations that make her dynamic with Steve stand out.

These characters don’t just exist to assist the protagonist—they challenge them, change them, and make the story richer.

Tips to Make Your Best Friend Character Stand Out

Here are some practical ways to make sure your best friend character is strong and memorable:

✅ Give them distinct personality traits – Don’t let them blend into the background. Make sure they have mannerisms, speech patterns, and habits that set them apart. ✅ Let them struggle – Just like the protagonist, they should face obstacles that force them to grow. ✅ Make them essential to the story – If you could remove them from the plot and nothing would change, they’re not well-integrated enough. ✅Let them ride solo – Just because they're friends doesn't mean they have to be glued to the hip the entire story! Maybe they get separated during a key arc, have a bit of tension that splits them (think Ron and Harry) or have different offices/schools/hobbies. ✅ Show their relationship evolving – Friendships aren’t static. The ups and downs should feel natural and meaningful.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[rin-eko]

Take Care of You - Caleb x Reader

Desc: Caleb taking care of you when you're feeling anxious and overwhelmed

Content/Warnings: light main story spoilers, non-sexual nudity, reader feels overwhelmed, comfort

WC: 2.4k

The silence was worrying.

Not a soul was in sight on the rumbling train speeding toward Linkon, the rhythmic clacking of the wheels on the track accompanied by the drizzling rain hitting the windows.

Caleb was the only one in this train cart this evening, and the dark grey sky seemed to match his mood just as the lack of the train’s usual noisy chatter from the public seemed to match the dead silence in his inbox.

He checked his phone again, where several messages still sat, bereft and unanswered.

4:05pm

Me: Pipsqueak, can I come to Linkon this weekend to visit ya?

4:15pm

Me: We can go to the old markets you love tomorrow and pick up some dinner ingredients on the way home. I’ll make your favourite :)

5:10pm

Me: Are you off work? Be safe on your way home. 

5:31pm

Me: Hellooo? 🤨 Earth to pipsqueak..

5:32pm

Me: There’s no way an addict like you has lost her phone. What’s up?

5:35pm

Me: Is something wrong? I tried calling you. Call me back, I’m starting to get worried.

The messages continued until 7pm, at which point Caleb had just decided to get on the bullet train and head straight to Linkon, continuing all the while to text and call you. With every missed call and message left unanswered, the suffocating feeling in his chest continued to grow, his fingers fiddling as he stared at his phone, willing a message of… literally anything. A full stop would do at this point.

Another minute changed on the time, mocking him.

7:46pm

Me: I’m on my way to Linkon now. Call me.  

His thumb scratched the furrow between his brows. Sure, your relationship had been… less than perfect since you the two of you reunited, but you always answered his messages, even when you were angry with him. This radio silence was agonizing. Flitters of panic seized his lungs as long minutes continued to tick by.

He forced himself to take a breath. You were most likely fine. He wouldn’t be surprised if you had just lost track of time while hanging out with your friends, or if you were currently collapsed in your bed after a hard work day, not bothering with either dinner or a shower. You were fine. You were fine.

He took another deep breath. He let it out. His hand flexed.

Should he just put a tracker on you?

…

Caleb’s strides sounded a lot more relaxed than he felt as he made his way to your apartment door, casually rapping on the door in his usual rhythm.

Silence.

His jaw tightened as he knocked again. And again.

Fuck, this shit isn’t funny.

He picked the lock and entered, greeted by more of that damned silence along with the dark living space. You were nowhere to be seen.

It wasn’t until he heard a small noise coming from the bedroom that his chest loosened slightly. He made his way there, pushing open the slightly ajar door.

You were in your room, dusting your shelves when you heard your name in that familiar, steady voice.

Your head snapped to the doorway, where he was leaning, arms folded across his chest. His hair appeared slightly messy, as if he had been running his hand through it, and his deep purple eyes held an intense glow you almost felt compelled to look away from.

You took out the one earbud you had playing classical music and frowned.

“Caleb, what are you doing here? You can’t just enter someone’s apartment like that.”

As soon as he had seen your face, the tightness in your jaw and your tired eyes, Caleb had recognised that something was wrong, but your harsh tone confirmed it.

That, and your death glare that would have anyone else shaking like a leaf.

But he only felt relief that you were okay, at least physically. He knew you well enough to know that glare was only a surface-level protection, like a cat arching its back with its hair standing on end in attempt to make itself look bigger.

But beneath that he knew something was wrong. Even when you tried to be strong, you always appeared so vulnerable to him.

“You weren’t answering my texts or calls, I was worried,” he kept his tone soft and soothing, but you were having none of it, your frown deepening fiercely.

“Do you seriously think that’s enough of a reason to just show up here and barge into my home without permission? What is wrong with you?” you were snapping at him, hissing at him, looking so, so pained and exhausted to him.

This was different to the petty fights you had occasionally been instigating with him since you reunited. At those times, he could tell you were just struggling to find a place for him in your life again. You wanted him close, but he had also hurt you. Perhaps your instincts were telling you he wasn’t what was good for you.

He didn’t mind when you snapped at him, recognising you were desperately trying to regain some semblance of foothold in your strange relationship neither of you could really put a label to anymore, so he rarely commented on it or argued back.

But this was different. You just looked exhausted, filled with a tension that didn’t allow you to rest.

Your head hurt.

It hurt, but it wasn’t a physical pain any amount of paracetamol could fix.

You didn’t understand. You rarely felt like this, so when you felt the lowness creeping in throughout the week, you figured it was manageable. Nothing a good meal and some rounds on the claw machines at your favourite arcade wouldn’t fix.

But now, you didn’t even feel like leaving the house.

Maybe it was harder for you to handle precisely because you rarely felt this this. You were at a loss. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you also didn’t know how to fix it.

And your head continued to throb, anxiety clouding your mind, only heightened when you started to worry that you would never be able to stop feeling this way.

Why had this happened? These pressures you couldn’t even name kept piling up. You were on the verge of tears from thinking and thinking and thinking some more, and yet unable to come to any solutions. You just wanted to stop thinking, for your mind to be quiet once more.

You wanted to scream into your pillow to drown out the noise in your mind. Scream until you faded into particles, peacefully floating around. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel this awful disquiet.

You cracked a half-smile. Were you reverting to your angsty teen years or what?

You sighed and dropped the cloth you were dusting with, muttering as you walked past Caleb toward the bathroom.

“Whatever, I’m having a shower. I don’t think I need to tell you to make yourself at home considering you’re already acting like this is your home.”

He stayed silent, watching you disappear into the bathroom and hearing the shower turn on.

Looking around, he decided to clean up a bit and make you dinner. Your apartment was as messy as ever, and after peering into the fridge and taking note of the minimal ingredients, he made a mental reminder to go out the next day to buy your groceries. You were always telling him not to worry and to stop treating you like a kid, but how could he when this is how you took care of yourself?

He sighed and grabbed some ingredients from your freezer to make you a simple hotpot, perfect for the rainy day.

However, when the hotpot was bubbling and ready, and you still had not emerged from the shower, his concern grew once more.

In your room again, he could hear the shower still running. He waited ten more minutes before deciding to knock on the door just in case you had… he didn’t know, drowned yourself in the shower, maybe?

His overprotective imagination knew no bounds when it came to your safety.

You didn’t respond so, despite your earlier scolding, he decided to enter the bathroom.

His heart dipped.

Through the condensation clouding the glass shower door, he could barely see your small figure, curled up in a ball in the middle of the shower. You held your head as the water pounded onto your back.

You didn’t see or hear him, focused on having the scalding water pummel you so you had no room to think. You didn’t want a relaxing, soothing shower, but one that would silence your mind because you couldn’t do it yourself.

He went to you, unable to do anything else. He couldn’t stand to see you like that. You looked so lonely and lost. He wanted to be your anchor. As many times as it took, even if it took forever.

You didn’t notice him even when walked further inside the bathroom, quietly grabbing a towel and opening the shower door.

You only looked up through wet, blurry eyes when he reached in to switch the shower off, wincing at the searing hot water.

“Staying in a hot shower for so long isn’t good for you,” he murmured, not an ounce of scolding in his voice. He stood tall above you, wearing a loose white tank tucked into faded jeans, white socks on his feet and his silver dog tag gleaming as if reminding you of something.

What? That he would always come home? That he would always be there?

You didn’t say anything, your wet hair sticking to you as he held out a hand to help you up before holding the towel open and looking to the side, considerate of your nudity.

You walked straight into the warm, fluffy towel, and he immediately wrapped it around you, holding you steady.

Still seeing you were dizzy from the hot shower and steam, Caleb picked you up, bridal carrying you into the cooler air of your bedroom.

There was no room for anger in you anymore, only pure exhaustion. Though you expected you wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight, just as you hadn’t been for the previous few nights.

You sighed and rested your head on Caleb’s shoulder, tucking your hands to your chest and quietly enjoying the little comforts such as the familiar rhythm of his confident yet relaxed stride. He gently deposited you on the bed before making his way to your closet to find sleepwear for you.

You remained lying down, head turned to the side as you blearily watched his figure.

He returned with an oversized shirt that could well have been his, and a pair of comfortable underwear, leaving to the bathroom while you dried and changed.

He returned with your hairbrush and dryer, gently helping you sit on the floor next to the bed so he could sit on the bed and dry your hair.

It was a routine the both of you were very familiar with, and for the first time in days you felt a tiny semblance of yourself returning.

Since you had reunited with Caleb, you had become reluctant to rely on him as had become second nature to you growing up. As for Caleb’s second nature, it was taking care of you as well as everything you yourself should be taking care of.

So having you finally rely on him for something again, even as small as drying your hair, sparked a new light of hope and affection within him.

The only sound in the room was the comforting whir and hum of the hairdryer, sending waves of warmth to your head and skin. His legs remained comfortingly on either side of you, and you rested against one, hands fidgeting in your lap.

After a while, he switched the hairdryer off and used the towel to gently dry the water in your ears. He smoothed your hair up into a loose bun before helping you up onto the bed once again.

You immediately burrowed into your pillows, kicking the blankets over yourself.

He sat beside you, stroking your hair.

“I made food, do you want to eat?”

You shook your head. “I just want to sleep.”

“Okay,” he whispered. You sensed he was about to get up and quickly grabbed his hand.

“Caleb,” you croaked. “Don’t go.”

What anyone else may have been annoyed with, or held against you, he never did, taking your quick-changing attitude in stride.

He smiled lightly and tightened his hold on your hand for a brief moment. “Don’t worry, pipsqueak, I’m just turning the lights off.”

He returned to the bed once the room had darkened, only the glittering city lights outside providing small light grids around the room.

You both lay under the covers, facing each other. His arm loosely wrapped around your waist, your hands tucked against your chest.

He stroked your waist soothingly and started, “I… know I am the reason for your stress and sadness and-”

You immediately shook your head and buried tighter to his chest, speaking muffled into his shirt.

“No. I mean, yes, but not this… usually I’m fine, but just the past few days I’ve been feeling… I don’t know… and I don’t know why, either. I just want my brain to be quiet.” You were so tired, and it reflected in your hoarse, forlorn voice. You were desperate for some peace, were helpless against this thing that had gripped and trapped you. You felt blocked from any good emotions, wanting to recover them but unable to feel them as you usually could.

You held your head. “It’s so noisy,” your voice cracked, broken. Tears stung your eyes, running down your temples as you peered up at him.

Hold me tighter, and his strong arms immediately squeezed you.

His chest tightened painfully. He wanted to protect you from everything, but how could he solve what you were feeling?

“Can you… stay the weekend?” you murmured.

His lips brushed your forehead. “Of course. I won’t go back to Skyhaven until you feel okay.”

He wanted you to need him, to rely on him, but not like this. He detested this invisible cause of your pain. Hated that he couldn’t see it and feel it in his hands as he rid you of it so you could return to your bouncy self. He would take any arguing over this, would rather be Caleb-the-Loathsome so long as you didn’t lose the spark in your eyes.

Your eyes were already dipping when he spoke again, with a quiet conviction you somehow caught between dreams and reality, his breaths comforting against your hair.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he murmured. “Relax and let go for as long as you need.” You felt the whisper of a light kiss press to your head.

“I have you, always.”

You drifted to sleep.