#hes a wiser person than i am

[elizais]

"ranpo is the smartest!" this

"fyodor is the smartest!" that

asagiri is the smartest for not showing his face considering all the shit he pulls

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There’s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[nathaslosthershit]

Teen Dad (OP81)

(Part 1 of the Blind Item Series) (Part 1 of the Teen Dad OP AU)

Summary: Rumors are flying about a young driver with kids

Seeing the rumor, and various other tweets commenting on the matter, first thing this morning was like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on him. Oscar immediately sat up, frightening his fiancée who was asleep next to him a moment before.

“What? What's wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, sitting up.

“Fuck this is not good.” He mumbled as he looked through more tweets. He knew he had minutes before his PR team started messaging him on how best to proceed. 

“Osc, you are really scaring me. What is going on?” His fiancée asked again. After 5 years together and two kids, she knew him well enough to know that Oscar isn’t easily woken up. While he usually wakes up early to train or help the kids, on days like today where he has the chance to sleep in, he will usually take it. But the amount of notifications he started getting were enough to get him to check his phone and once he saw the severity of the situation he was awake and alarmed. 

“A blind item about a ‘younger f1 driver with two kids he had as a teen’ just went up. No confirmation on who but it seems they have gotten it down to only a few of us. They don’t know yet but I am sure they will know soon.” 

He was grateful they hadn’t clocked in on him but Oscar was sure with a bit more time to dig people would put two and two together. He wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he was a teen dad, not anymore at least. When he was even more so an up and coming driver, he kept it hush because he was nervous being 18 with two kids would lead teams to reconsider where his priorities were, his family or his career. That wouldn’t have been crazy of them to do though, as important as racing was to Oscar, he would always pick his family first. Luckily, though, he had a great enough support system so he didn't have to choose. 

Most people in Oscar’s life knew. Any teams apart from Prema, Mclaren, and Alpine were none the wiser but why would they need to know? Not all drivers knew either, some who he had become closer to were let in on the secret, especially Logan, who had been there the entirety of his kids' lives. Annoyingly, at least in Oscar’s opinion, he has been titled ‘the cool uncle’ from day one. 

“What do we do?” his fiancée asked, snapping him out of his spiraling.

“I imagine it is up to my team to figure that one out. I’ll message them now. Get the kids ready and I’ll be done in time to help with breakfast.” He said as he got up.

After a long, pretty impromptu, call, it was decided Oscar would make a statement about it before it was revealed to be him. He wasn’t too happy about not getting to really do it on his own terms but this is the way it worked out, and hey, Oscar would be lying if he said he wasn’t already planning which race he was going to bring his kids to first.

oscarpiastri

liked by mclaren, logansargeant, landonorris, and 518,294 others

oscarpiastri This is of course not how I wanted to do this. I had hoped to have more time before I had to let the peace of privacy go but these things happen when you are in the spotlight. So yes, I am a father of two great kids and I have been since I was 18. I am not ashamed by the fact I was a teen dad, and am certainly not hiding my kids out of anything but love. I hadn’t realized I could truly love anything or anyone more than racing but then these two came into my life and I realized I would give it all up for them. Luckily, with the support of their mother (who is my fiancée) and my family, I didn’t have to give it up. My four person family means more to me than anything and I count my lucky stars each night that I have been blessed with them. I ask that you please respect our privacy. This isn’t the end of you seeing the Piastri twins but I, being the over protective father I am, am not ready to throw two 3 year olds into the chaos of the motorsport world just yet.

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Part 2: A Much Needed Interview out now!

[rowdyluv]

ᴄʜʀɪsᴛᴍᴀs ʟᴏᴠᴇ - ǫʜ⁴³

summary: in which Quinn and Y/n go to her childhood home for Christmas.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: fluff, fem!reader, mother misunderstands reader’s reaction, [trigger warning: alludes to loss of pregnancy, minor/brief discussion of fertility complication], use of random names for characters (sister, brother-in-law),

notes: if I missed any warnings please kindly tell me I don’t think I missed any but always possible. picture at the end will make sense once read. ☺︎︎

© property of rowdyluv ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

“Oh I can’t believe Dad did all this!” Y/n gasped and grabbed at Quinn’s upper arm as he was pulling into the driveway. The outside of Y/n’s childhood home was adorned with Christmas lights and the yard had an inflatable Santa with Rudolf. “He used to do this for me and Leora growing up.” Her eyes were crinkled in the corners from smiling so brightly.

Quinn grabbed their bags out of the car and headed up the walkway to the front door. None the wiser that she had stopped to take a picture to send off to her older sister of the old blow up that graced the front yard. He soon realized she wasn’t by his side when he was first greeted with hugs making him tense at first, a bit uncomfortable.

"Merry Christmas, Quinn!" Y/n's mother beamed as she pulled him into a warm embrace. The smell of gingerbread wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the signature comforting perfume of her mom. “We are all so happy you could join us here this year! We are so excited to have you two home for Christmas.” Quinn felt the tension ease from his shoulders and relax from her greeting.

“Merry Christmas, Momma!” Y/n yelled from behind Quinn trying to shuffle around him to get to her.

Her mother released Quinn and wrapped her daughter in her arms. “Look at you two all dressed alike for your travels!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining with joy as she pulled back to look at them both. “Look sweetie, they have matching Christmas sweaters!” Her mother yelled over her shoulder towards Y/n’s father while also ushering the two in. “Do you remember when we were their age, just two kids so in love we couldn’t stand it?”

Quinn took a moment to appreciate the warmth of the house, the soft glow of the Christmas lights reflecting off the family photos lining the walls, framed certificates that had been earned by Leora or Y/n through the years, and low hanging taped coloring pages. He watched as Y/n disappeared into the kitchen to help her mom, her need to catch up with her mom showing. It wasn’t long after that her sister, and co arrived. Their ever curious two-year-old daughter toddled over to Quinn, her eyes wide with curiosity towards the stranger. He knelt down, offering a gentle smile.

“Hi! Bye!” She said loudly into Quinn’s face, waved nearly smacking him before toddling off to her grandpa.

“I am so sorry about that, she is in a “there is no stranger danger” phase right now. Name’s David, Leora’s husband.” David apologized and stuck his hand out to Quinn to shake. Quinn, the ever socially awkward person shook his hand but forgot to introduce himself. “I’m going to guess that you’re the ever famous Quinn we hear about all the time?”

“Right. Sorry man, yes. M’Quinn, I’m Y/n’s boyfriend.” Quinn cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.

He searched the room for his girlfriend hoping he could meet her eyes and plead with her to come to him, but she was yet to resurface from the kitchen. He couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place amidst this flurry of familial affection. He had only been able to meet Y/n’s parents a few times, and while they were very welcoming, he was still the outsider at their intimate gatherings. Her parents loved him and accepted their relationship, but with the two of them living in a different country than the rest of her family, it hinders the process of getting to know them better.

David had to sprint off after his toddler to keep her out of the presents and Y/n’s sister was now in the center of the living room, cradling her freshly changed and back to sleeping three month old son.

“Quinn, do you.” Y/n’s eyes caught a hold of her older sister and her baby nephew.

The sight of Leora with the baby boy brought a new level of excitement to Y/n’s eyes. She nearly squealed and rushed over.

“Lee, can I?” Y/n’s voice was soft, warm, but held a hint of longing buried deep behind it. Her sister handed over the tiny bundle of joy with a knowing smile, and Y/n's heart swelled.

Y/n’s soft gasp spread across the room as she took her nephew into her arms. Y/n's eyes searched for any sign of resemblance between Leora and the tiny baby, her fingers tracing the soft lines of his face. He stirred slightly at her touch, his tiny eyes blinking open to reveal the same shade of brown as his mom’s. Y/n whispered a proud, "Hey there little man, I’m your auntie," and his eyes locked onto hers. At the most perfect time his muscles twitch causing him to smile at her.

“Quinn, come look.” Y/n called and he moved cautiously. He was already taking in so much, feeling so much in that moment. It was a moment that seemed to freeze time for Quinn, watching his girlfriend hold something so tiny and fragile like it was the most precious thing in the world. Watching her mask how badly she wants that life for herself. Quinn was feeling the weight of this moment in the millions multiplied by his Christmas gift for her.

"Honey, why don't you two go sit in the rocker?" Y/n's mom suggested, noticing the way Y/n's eyes never left the baby. She knew that look all too well, it was the same look she had when she finally held her daughters for the first time. “It’s down in your all’s old room.”

“Can I?” Y/n asks her sister hopefully, after all the small human in her arms isn’t hers.

With a simple smile and a nod of approval y/n carried him into the room that used to be hers and her sister’s sanctuary. The rocking chair, a well-loved piece of furniture that had seen countless bedtimes and stories, sat back in its rightful place in the corner. Y/n settled into it, her body moving automatically with the gentle sway as she held her nephew close.

Quinn slowly followed her down the hall, unsure if he could handle another sight of her so domestic.

In the room, Y/n's voice was a soft lullaby, humming the familiar tune of "You Are My Sunshine." The rocking chair creaked rhythmically, echoing the steady beat of her heart. She sat in the glow of the Christmas lights that had been strung across the ceiling, casting a warm, nostalgic ambiance over the space. The baby's eyes grew heavy as he listened to the sweet melody that had filled this room so many times before. Y/n's mother looked on from the doorway with a knowing smile, her own eyes misting over with tears.

Y/n’s mom had sensed something was different. She just couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was with her daughter. She could sense that something has shifted in her in the last year or so and seeing her with her nephew only solidified her thoughts.

“When were you all going to tell me?” Her mother softly asked, grabbing ahold of Quinn’s hand giving it a comforting squeeze. “I would have been on the next flight to Vancouver. I’m sure she told you I had tro-.”

With wide eyes and nearly choking on his intake of air he startled her quiet mid-sentence when he looked at her so fast.

“No, no, this is just her longing for her own family..She wants her own family so badly and I want a family with her.” Quinn explained. “I will do whatever it takes to give her whatever she wants, we’ve discussed it. Even been to a specialist to ease her mind.”

Y/n’s mother nodded, she was shocked she misunderstood what her daughter was portraying, she thought she knew that look in her daughter’s eyes well, she was so sure it was the same one she had before she finally had her own children. Watching the different looks cross Y/n’s mother’s face Quinn took a deep breath before his next words fell, “I talked to your hu..”

She cut him off this time. “I know honey. Hard part is talking to her.” She patted him on the back and headed back down the hall, sending y/n’s brother in law after the baby. “Don’t wait any longer!” She whisper-yelled back to Quinn.

David poked his head into the room, “Hey, you okay?” He nodded towards the baby in Y/n’s arms, “He’s probably looking for a bottle, he’s usually hungry around this time.”

“But he’s asleep?” Y/n countered.

“Oh yeah.” He racked his brain for a different reason than a bottle. “Let me take him and check his diaper at least. Momma sent me in here don’t want to come out with out the baby.”

Y/n looked down at her nephew and her heart swelled. She didn’t want to let him go, but she knew her sister would let her have him again before her and Quinn left. She kissed him on the forehead and passed him over to his daddy.

Quinn took a deep breath as he leaned against the door frame. He admired the warm glow from the Christmas lights and the way they cast a soft halo around Y/n once more.

“Hey sweet girl, how about you come with me?” Quinn asked her.

She looked up from her lap and met his soft gaze and smiled at him before meeting him in the doorway.

Quinn led her to the formal living room that had been left untouched by the Christmas chaos of the toddler. The large Christmas tree in front of the window was the only thing that took up space in the room. They sat down together on the plush couch, the colorful lights from the tree casting a glow around them. Y/n leaned into him and took a hold of his hand playing with his fingers like she always does when they cuddle on the couch, basking in the comfort of his presence.

He took in a deep centering breath before starting to spill his heart out.

"You know, I'm not very good at expressing how I feel or remembering to tell you just how much you mean to me," Quinn began, his voice low and earnest.

"That was a constant struggle for us, wasn’t it?” She whispered and pinched his hand for effect. Quinn let out a little yelp of pain before continuing what he was trying to say.

“But I need you to know you’re the other half of my heart, the one that keeps me going even when I'm miles away from home." His words were met with a soft sigh from Y/n as she nestled closer. "I can't imagine a Christmas without you by my side."

He paused and sat her upright so he could look her in the eyes.

“No. Not just Christmas without you, but New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, uhm uh, what comes next?” He started to stutter and stumble over his words. “Whatever it is, I don't want to do it without you. I haven’t had to in a while now and I don’t want to start now, okay?”

“Quinn, where is this coming from?”

“From my heart, where you’ve been living in since the first day we met.” He replied, his eyes never leaving hers. His thumb traced the line of her jaw as he continued. “You’ve given me more joy, more comfort, more love than anyone I’ve ever known. And every time I hold your hand, or kiss your forehead, or see your smile light up the entire rink when we see each other at warmies. God how you just were with your nephew, how I know you’re going to be with our. I know that this is where I’m meant to be, with you, forever. And I want to make that promise to you, in front of everyone who loves you, who loves us.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for any doubt, but there was none to be found, only love, pure unadulterated love. Quinn was moving to the floor to kneel on one knee when she grabbed at his face.

“Yes. A thousand times over. In a different universe yes. In a different time period yes. God you could have asked me 24 hours after we met and I would’ve said yes.” She felt her heart beating faster than ever before she was talking so fast and not taking a break in between her words.

“Sweetheart you didn’t even let the poor boy ask!” A sweet frail female voice rang out. Quinn looked over his left shoulder and Y/n peaked right his shoulder.

“Hi Granny.” Y/n giggled.

Her grandmother’s announcement got the attention of the rest of her family giving Quinn an audience. “Alright young man, get on with it I’m hungry!” A huskier, grumpier voice huffed out.

“Pappy! Let him be.” Leora scolded. A couple “shhhs” rang out and finally the silence was deafening. Quinn was positive his heart beat could be heard.

He readjusted himself to down on the carpet on one knee taking in a calming breath. Looking into Y/n’s eyes.

“Y/n, I’ve love you. Your spirit, your heart, your soul, they’re all so bright and beautiful. You light up any room you walk into, you make me want to be a better person. You’re the one who’s always been there for me, through every up and down. You’re my best friend, my partner, and the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Much to her Pappy’s satisfaction he finally popped the question, his voice shaky although he knew that she already said yes before he asked, as he opened the small velvet box to reveal a sparkling sapphire gemstone aside an opal gemstone in the shape of hearts.

Without needing to answer again she still whispered a soft yes with a bright smile as Quinn slid the ring on her finger. She fell to her knees and once again grasped his face. She kissed him softly and with as much love as she could convey in one simple kiss.

“Quintin Jerome Hughes, I love you with everything that I am.”

[landograndprix]

Birthday boys ✾ l.n

summary: reader celebrates the boys by personal messages, some might enjoy it more than others

requested: yes!

follow up (sorta) from this post

☆☆☆☆☆

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by danielricciardo, heidiberger, landonorris and 7,824 others

y/nusername happy birthday to the one and only love of my life! Honestly feeling bad for the people who don't get to have a best friend like you– i'm so happy we got to grow up together and terrorize the neighborhood and everyone in our way. I love you babes even though you set me up on a date with your weird coworker. also thanks for the job, sorry you got fired before me ❤️

tagged: @/danielricciardo

view all 826 comments

dannyricric lando & heidi who? I only know daniel & y/n

tifosiredbull the first and the last picture 😭

leclerccc_ the last one is too cute!!

danielricciardo can't wait for your birthday babes, got the pictures ready

y/nusername shaking in my boots right now

teammclaren 😂 😂 😂

landohnorry the first one is doing it for me tbh 🤣

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by alex_albon, mercedesamgf1, georgerussell63 and 8,723 others

y/nusername don't be down and turn that frown upside-down. Happy 30th birthday to the most British man I've ever met– crickey, you're getting old. Best wishes from one bad bitch to another bad bitch 🎂

tagged: georgerussell63

view all 812 comments

grussell63 what is this and why is this the best thing I've ever seen? 😭

georgerussell63 why are you like this?

y/nusername I ask myself that question at least ten times a day 🥰

maxiel13 put this on my grave please :')

mercedesamgf1 truly iconic 🙌

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by isahernaez, carlossainz55 and 9,076 others

y/nusername older? yes. wiser? debatable. Some things are better with age, too bad you aren’t one of them. Happy birthday to my favorite spaniard 🌶

tagged: @/carlossainz55

charlos55 ah yes I love the Jonas Brothers

y/nusername joe is my favorite obviously

charlos55 asjklsas i love you!

scuderiaferrari thank you for perfectly capturing our chili 🌶

gaaaslyyy happy b-day to Carlos and let's thank y/n for her services ☺

carlossainz55 I can't wait to see you on the track this weekend

y/nusername is that a threat?

carlossainz55 keep your eyes open

sainzie my goal in life is to be as close with every driver as y/n is 😭

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 8,003 others

y/nusername happy birthday to the guy who can never do anything wrong in his life, the guy who became the little brother I've never had, thanks for being such a great time. (Don't be fooled, I still like your girlfriend more.)

tagged: alex_albon

view all 307 comments

maxmaxmax he truly can't do wrong, protect this men at cost!

🤺🤺🤺🤺

alex_albon thanks y/n, it's okay I too like my girlfriend more than you 😀

alebonooo like you should 😇

lilymhe hey could you intruduce me to this guy, he's cute

alex_albon 👋👋

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 10,897 others

y/nusername Smart, funny, beautiful..but enough about me, happy birthday to monaco's (and my) favorite. Here’s to another year of questionable fashion decisions. Happy birthday queen. ♥

tagged: charles_leclerc

sharllekler not charles questioning his life in these pictures 😭

lestappen_ I would too if my team was ferrari 💀

leclerc16 bestie the least thing you could've done was take those pants away from him

y/nusername friend if this man wants to embarrass himself, who am I to stop him?

charles_leclerc thank you queen ❤️

checooop don't known if I want to be charles or y/n

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 9,726 others

y/nusername Happy birthday to the guy who always knows how to make me laugh, who matches my weird, to the most good-looking guy I've ever met, to my best friend, to my person and to the one I love. I hope i get to spend many more birthdays with you..anyway, who needs a gift when you have me? Love you always, muppet 🧡🧡

tagged: landonorris

view all 910 comments

norris4 the difference between the birthday post of the other guys and lando's one is insane 😭

mercmartin the last picture will always be my favorite, thanks for sharing it once again

landonorris love you, muppet ❤️

Bottassv will I ever get over the muppet thing? Probably not

danielricciardo best friend?

landonorris people change their minds, daniel

scottyjames31 feeling rather betrayed right now

y/nusername guys please, I can't stand y'all equally. No need to fight.

[grimm-writings]

chomp

…ft! boothill x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, silly, biting, arguing (petty and not serious), reader is significantly shorter than boothill

…wc! 612

…notes! hiiii guess who’s alliiiiiveee. um advice for anyone out there do NOT become a teacher it will take up all your energy haha!! here’s something to prove i am in fact still living!!

“Youuuuu little… SHIT!”

Boothill turns on his heel to face you, expression blank.  He looks left, then right, then points a finger at himself, as if there were any other little shits of note.

Meanwhile, you stand in front of him, practically steaming with rage.  If you were a kettle, you’d be whistling at a pitch high enough only dogs could hear.

“...I get the feelin’,” Boothill starts, placing his hands on his hips and preparing for a lecture, “someone is mad at me.”

“Oh!  How intelligent!  Should we call the Genius Society?  Nous THEMself?”  You bat your eyelashes, but the smile you plaster on your face makes you look more like a monkey ready to pounce.

Boothill rolls his eyes, his hands held up in surrender.  “Alright, alright!  I get it.  I forked up—”

“Oh, you forked up, you say?”  You interrupt.  “Yes, that’s what I call pulling me out in the middle of a road when there was oncoming traffic then suddenly letting go of my hand!  Yes, what a fork up!”

Boothill’s eye twitches at your outright mockery of his censorship.  “I’m sorry, ‘kay?  I know it was a jerk move, but it’s not like I shot ya!”

You can only bite your lip to suppress your scream, instead letting out a loud grunt in frustration.  As you pace, you reach up your two hands and approach Boothill briefly, they shake in the air as if pantomiming the great strangle you’re going to give him later.  You drop your arms and began to pace once more, continuing your berating.

Boothill doesn’t do anything except stand there and take it.  By now, he’s used to your scoldings.  In one ear, out the other.  In fact, if he just ignores what you’re saying, he could even say you look just adorable right now.  Yeah, look at you, trying to look all intimidating when you can barely reach his neck.

He could just eat you up.

“And another thing!”  You exclaim, continuing your lecture with Boothill none the wiser.  You stop in front of the cowboy once more, thinking of another thing to criticise with your finger held up in the air, just below his chin.  Boothill goes slightly cross-eyed following it.

“You are just—”

Chomp.

You stop short of what you’re doing, jaw slack as you look up at Boothill.  He has leaned down, and his shark-like teeth are now enclosed around your finger.

And he’s smirking up at you.  Bastard.

You begin wiggling your arm around like a crazy person as soon as you process the slight pain of the bite, like Boothill was a rabid dog you were trying to shake off.  “What the Hell?!  I’m trying to have a serious talk with you!”

Boothill replies, but his teeth are still latched onto your finger, so it comes out gibberish.  In fact, you think his grip only got tighter.

People are definitely staring now, but what’s more grating to your senses is how much fun Boothill seems to be having.  This isn’t fun– this is you trying to reprimand him!  Why does he have to be so…?!

Once you finally get him off you, he cackles as you cradle your poor, poor finger.  Those teeth marks will be there the entire day…  People are going to ask so many questions…!

“Sorry, darlin’,” he says, ruffling your hair as you mope.  “I tried to hold back, but I just couldn't help myself.”

You look up at him weepily and he smirks back.  He tilts his head in a way that makes him even more handsome from your angle as he gazes down at you.

Frustratingly charming.  That’s what he is.

[slyscoutess]

paring: sebastian vettel x fem!singer!reader summary: pilots should learn not to comment on their favorite artists . . . or maybe this is their tactic to get what they want writer: the oldest thing in my drafts, it clearly had to be my first passion in formula 1, one of the reasons I liked watching it, listening to Florence + The Machine, I just wanted to leave my love for sebs on record

liked by sebastianvettel, jessalexander, christinanadin and 4.636.585 others

yourusername I came for the pleasure, but I stay for the pain . . . New album DANCE FEVER. Out April 19 💙

store.yourname.com

📷: alvarezcamila

view all 32.075 comments

yournameupdate MOTHER IS BACK!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL

ynlnthinker EVERYBODY AND THEIR CHILD FREAKING RIGHT NOW

ynlnandthesiix not her coming back after years with new music and pretending to be normal

vettelchild somebody please check on sebs, i think the man is dead right about now

leclerccough just saw sebastian vettel himself in the likes, she posted it like 2 min ago???

patitowifey father is a hardcore fan just like us fr carlandomind I didn't even know he had Instagram??? pastryf2piastri pretty sure is a fanpage, there is nothing published yet

yournamecuunt Rumors of her divorce emerged in 2020 and she disappeared from the map and now appears with an album out of nowhere

andthesixburner queen behaviour???

liked by vertappwifey,rosinglovers, vettelbabs and 8.585 others

lovingwags New wag in the paddock?

seen at the Australian GP with some friends and members of the band that makes up her shows and team, yn ln was present at the Australian GP, ��​we cannot confirm which garage she was in, but I think we all have a certain hope of one in specific ( Sebastian please makes us proud

view all 475 comments

strollmothering That one blueyfever on twitter beign right all along

blueyfever OF COURSE I FCKING WAS formulaonfacts CAN'T FREAKING BELIEVE IT

ynthinker SCREAMING, CRYING AND THROWING UUUP

minivettel5 This woman is a freaking goddess

vettelhamm Sebastian must be just killing himself right about now

33tororoso Do we, Sebastian Vettel's children, finally have a mother?

maziemillian Isn't he like . . . married? blueyfever yeah! to her!!!! formulaonfacts okay grandma let's get you back to bed

whatamaxemmil I can't wait for blueyfever to be right

liked by sebastianvettel, charles_leclerc, lovingwags and 6.569.019 others

yourusername for years and years the words you didn't let me write suffocated me, the art you never let me see blinded me, the places you left me humiliated me, but finally my Graceland gained a different meaning and I'm no longer stuck in the bathroom with the same headache, everything you wanted from me didn't belong to you and I finally found someone who would give me the pen and not cut out my tongue, all my love, my affection, my future and my choices belong to him.

Because of him I have Dance Fever every night.

DANCE FEVER is yours to listen now.

view all 48.371 comments

yournameupdate OMG IS THAT????

ynlnthinker THAT IS SEBASTIAN VETTEL HIMSELF

vettelmemes OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

vettelchild WHAT DOES THIS MEAAAAAAN

formulaonfacts BLUEY WAS RIGHT WT???

lecfosi BLUEY THE OLDER WISER SIBLING charles_leclerc no? that would be me maxverstappen1 you are neither charles_leclerc I am her favorite lance_stroll keep dreaming

yournamecuunt the grid competing more for her mother's love than for the world championship

georgerussell63 You haven't seen them in person.

sebastianvettel posted a new video.

liked by sebastianvettel, charles_leclerc, lovingwags and 6.569.019 others

yourusername It's been three years and a pandemic of an intense creative process, four years of silently recording every movement of my life until dance fever came to me and was finally delivered to you, four years surrounded by incredible people, and as a thank you for me Wait patiently over the last four years, I'll be sharing a little of what I've been going through.

the Dance Fever bts is now on YouTube, I'm sorry for the length, it's been four years of recording.

view all 48.371 comments

charles_leclerc it's 2 in the mornig

yourusername and why aren't you sleeping, pretty sure already put you in bed?

maxverstappen1 I just stopped my sim race to watch something I basically live? yeah

vettelchild my god the amount of content from yn and sebastian, now I have diabetes and i'm still at 2019, they weren't even dating

lecsainzfosi wait . . . WHAT?

lance_stroll I will assume you got to 2020 and 2021 charles_leclerc often sleep on the sofa in their house during these landonorris you and practically everyone on the grid, even Lewlew charles_leclerc yeah but i am her favorite lance_stroll still on this?

yournamecuunt Now that you are intertwined in the world of F1, do you think Lance should just leave?

yourusername Hell no, that is my child, giving my life for him to be happy, never did anything wrong, will never do , everyone who complains about him just wants to make noise and distractions and isn't worrying about the race tsunodaaaa on my way to make a fanpage for this mother and son duo

The soft tendrils of dawn's first light seeped through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow upon the tranquil morning. Sebastian, now retired from the racing circuit, still grappled with the novelty of no longer being tethered to the demanding schedules of tracks worldwide. Yet, awakening beside his wife, cocooned in the serenity of their home, provided a deeply soothing sense of contentment.

As Sebastian nestled closer to his beloved, he could feel her gentle warmth radiating beside him. She slept peacefully, her worries and the frenetic pace of everyday life momentarily suspended. Ever since Bee came into their lives, their nights had become a balancing act between tending to their child's needs and stealing moments of rest. But on this particular night, they had slept deeply, as though replenishing themselves from an extended bout of weariness.

Her locks cascaded like silken waves over the pillow, delicately shrouding her serene countenance. The soft curves of her features bespoke the tranquility she had discovered in that fleeting moment of repose. A fond smile tugged at Sebastian's lips as he recalled the countless nights spent awake with her, cradling her in his arms as she delved into the depths of her creative musings. The restorative embrace of a full night's sleep had invigorated Sebastian. He savored a newfound sense of peace and autonomy, a luxury he hadn't known since bidding farewell to the adrenaline-fueled world of racing. Now, he could devote more of himself to his growing family, witnessing Bee's milestones and relishing in the simple joys of marital companionship.

As the world beyond their bedroom gradually stirred to life, the couple remained ensconced in their private sanctuary. Yet, the tranquil ambiance was momentarily shattered by the soft whimper of Bee, captured by the electronic monitor stationed nearby. With a reluctant sigh, Sebastian's wife stirred beside him, bidding farewell to the depths of slumber.

"Sebastian, your daughter wake up . . .", she groaned, as Bee's gentle cry pierced the stillness of the morning, the woman instinctively buried her face into her husband's chest, seeking refuge from the beckoning call of their daughter. Her soft sobs muffled against the warmth of his embrace, a silent plea for a few more moments of respite.

Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle softly at his wife's playful attempt to evade the inevitable. With a tender affection, he ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her frazzled nerves with each gentle stroke. Her muffled laughter reverberated against his chest, a testament to the enduring bond they shared, even amidst the chaos of parenthood. As Bee's cries persisted, Sebastian's wife reluctantly peeled herself away from the sanctuary of his embrace, a resigned smile tugging at the corners of her lips. With a loving glance exchanged between them, they silently acknowledged the shared journey of parenthood, filled with its moments of exhaustion and boundless love. With a whispered promise to return, Sebastian's wife slipped out of bed, ready to embrace the day and tend to their beloved daughter.

As the soft hues of morning bathed the room, casting a gentle glow upon their cozy sanctuary, the woman returned, cradling their precious Bee in her arms. Each step she took seemed to echo with the tender rhythm of maternal love, her eyes alight with a serene radiance that mirrored the dawn's gentle embrace.

Sebastian's heart swelled with affection as he watched his wife approach, the ethereal beauty of motherhood emanating from her every movement. With each delicate sway, Bee stirred slightly in her mother's arms, her angelic face still adorned with the remnants of sleep. As his wife drew nearer, Sebastian's eyes sparkled with an unwavering adoration, a silent testament to the profound love he held for both his wife and their darling daughter. In that fleeting moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the tender bond that bound their family together.

Bee, with her tiny hands outstretched, reached eagerly for her father, her sleepy gaze melting hearts with its innocence. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat as he eagerly scooped her up, enveloping her in a warm embrace that radiated with paternal love. With a contented sigh, his lover gently lowered Bee onto the bed, where the little one wobbled unsteadily before finding her footing. With a gleeful giggle, Bee propelled herself into her father's waiting arms, her laughter filling the room with its infectious melody. Sebastian's heart swelled with pride as he cradled their daughter close, showering her with affectionate kisses that elicited a chorus of delighted squeals. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their love, Sebastian's wife couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the family they had created together.

As she reclined on the bed, a gentle hand instinctively drifted to her burgeoning belly, where new life stirred with the promise of tomorrow. With each fluttering kick, her heart overflowed with anticipation, a silent prayer whispered for the blessings that lay ahead.

In the tranquil embrace of their shared love, Sebastian's wife felt as though she had finally found her own personal Graceland—a haven of warmth, purity, and boundless affection. And as the laughter of her husband and daughter echoed through the room, she knew that their home would forever be filled with the sweet symphony of love's enduring melody.

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, lovingwags and 569.019 others

sebastianvettel My Dearest,

As I sit down to write these words, I find myself immersed in thoughts of you, my heart overflowing with emotions that words alone cannot fully capture. Each day spent by your side feels like ascending to a throne, where you reign as my sovereign, my King. Your presence in my life has granted me a sense of liberation, a feeling of being truly Free from the constraints of the past.

Our journey together has been a whirlwind of joy and passion, a dance of souls caught in the frenzy of love. In your arms, I've discovered a rhythm unlike any other, a Choreomania that consumes us, leaving us breathless yet exhilarated. Whenever I find myself away from you, it's as if I've returned to familiar grounds, back in the embrace of a familiar town. You are my anchor, my sanctuary, my safe haven — a feeling encapsulated in the phrase Back In Town.

Together, we stand united against the odds, defying conventions and societal norms. We are rebels, fighters, Girls Against God in a world that seeks to confine us. In the depths of night, you are my beautiful paradox, my Dream Girl Evil. Your essence is both enchanting and mysterious, a captivating blend that keeps me endlessly intrigued.

Within the walls of our home, our love becomes a sanctuary, a Prayer Factory where we offer our hearts and souls in devotion to each other. It is here, in the sacred space we've created, that I find solace and strength. You possess a wisdom and insight that transcends time, a gift akin to that of the mythical Cassandra. Your intuition guides me, leading me towards a future filled with hope and promise.

In your arms, I've found my heaven, my nirvana — for Heaven is Here, whenever I'm with you. Your presence alone is enough to transform the ordinary into something extraordinary, turning mundane moments into memories I'll cherish forever. Your smile, like a radiant daffodil in a field of blooms, brings light and warmth to even the darkest of days. With you, each moment becomes a celebration of life, a testament to the beauty of love.

My love for you knows no bounds, transcending the limits of time and space. You are my guiding star illuminating the path before me with your boundless affection. Even in moments of separation, I exercise restraint, longing to hold you close yet savoring the anticipation of our reunion. Distance may test us, but it only serves to deepen my love for you, fortifying the bond we share.

Together, we are a force to be reckoned with, a Bomb waiting to explode with passion and desire. In your arms, I find solace, security, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. You are my muse, my inspiration, my Mermaid of the depths. Your allure is irresistible, drawing me in with your ethereal beauty and grace.

My dearest, these words pale in comparison to the depth of my affection for you. You are the beating heart of my existence, the light that guides me through the darkness.

With all my love,

Sebastian

tagged: yourusername

view all 48.371 comments

charles_leclerc alright gonna wrap it up, never gonna be this kind of romantic

carlossainz55 not even shakespere thought about writing something like that, mate

maxverstappen1 When will it be my turn?

kellypiquet what? maxverstappen1 when will it be my turn to be this romantic

lance_stroll MAMA AND PAPA

fernandoalo_oficial beautiful letter, really big, not gonna read but it's wonderful

jensonbutton I've never seen anyone who had so much to say, my god lewishamilton stole all the romance of the century landonorris That's why we live in the century of whoredom

yournamecuunt DID HE JUST MAKE A LETTER WITH ALL HER SONGS IN ORDER?

aussiegrit he's crazy romantic sentimental like that

motheryourname why hasn't yourusername commented yet?

lance_stroll She's here crying like hell at Sebs' farewell party alex_albon She's been really emotional today, with the party and everything. landonorris It's the hormones of this new pregnancy ynthinker THE WHAT sebastianvettel Lando??? yourusername FOR FUCKS SAKE landonorris sorry, sorry SORRY MOTHER

[withleeknow]

minho and https://open.spotify.com/track/4gAIUEY7VkeiKQOPwIYaYb?si=oZNdDS-aTUm9V7bEycscDQ 🩷🩷

flower.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, a teeny bit angsty?; minho's pov word count: 0.7k note: i am very sorry if this is bad i wrote most of this while half asleep so please forgive me kshdkfhsk

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

one day if a flower blooms in your heart would you be able to understand me?

Flower - DANIEL

minho has been up for a while now, just lying here with you as you snuggle close to him like you can't help but gravitate toward him even in your sleep. one of his hands slips under your shirt where he gently traces the smooth skin of your waist, careful not to rouse you from slumber.

he fails though. maybe a particular swipe of thumb over your body was too ticklish.

"you're so warm."

the words come out a little slurred, a little muffled from where your face is tucked into the crook of his neck, safe and sound on this chilly saturday morning. you stir awake for long enough just to say that, and before he knows it, you're off to dreamland once more, from where you probably won't return for at least another hour or so.

minho halts instantly. you're none the wiser, still sleeping peacefully with your soft breaths fanning his collarbones.

cold, mean, unwelcoming, standoffish, callous. you could name any synonym of these words and he's probably been called that before, by friends and by strangers alike. some of them didn't utter it with malicious intent, but rather it was only a passing comment said in a teasing manner, with a lightheartedness that they didn't think he would mind because, well, apparently he just didn't have enough heart to take it as anything other than a joke.

he's used to it, he's gotten numb to it. somewhere along the way, minho accepted that maybe his name is merely one of those synonyms. it's fine, it doesn't matter. he doesn't really mind it because at the end of the day, none of these people could ever be you.

you're the only person whose opinion he cares about. when all is said and done, he doesn't care if the rest of the world thinks cold and heartless, as long as you know who he is. you're the only thing that matters; everything else just simply... falls away.

he's always struggled with opening up, even if the person on the receiving end is you. it doesn't come naturally to him at all. minho was never raised to be openly affectionate, and it just isn't an inherent trait that he possesses. he's not the kind of guy that tells you he loves you every hour of every day, nor is he the type to smother you with gifts and kisses and grand gestures on a daily basis.

no, minho's love comes quietly, rooted in almost every mundane aspect of life that it's often easy to miss if you don't know where to look. his love comes in the form of packed lunches and home-cooked dinners, of a blanket draped over your form after you've fallen asleep at your desk while working on a project for work. of his hand holding tightly onto yours when you get overwhelmed in crowded places. of his eyes always looking at you as though you're the eighth wonder of the world and he'll never get tired of being mesmerized by you. of texts asking if you've eaten. of sporadic videos of soondoongdori simply sleeping or munching on treats, accompanied by no other message or explanation.

there's a million ways that minho cares for you; he doesn't have to shout it from the rooftops for you to know. you do know, and that's enough for the both of you.

but it's not until you uttered those simple words just now that minho realizes how much he needed to hear them out loud. he's well aware that you didn't mean it like that. you meant it quite literally, because sometimes he does run hot and you've always loved that. your personal human furnace to keep you nice and toasty whenever you wanted. he knows it and yet, he still lets the words wiggle their way inside his ribcage and make a home there. they settle somewhere beside his heart and mend something in him that he didn't notice was cracked and chipped, worn away after years and years of people telling him he was callous.

minho isn't sure how long he's been holding his breath, but the very second he inhales again, everything feels lighter, like he's finally leaving behind some of the weight that he's been carrying with him his whole life.

his fingers resume their ministrations on your soft skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead. he holds you a little tighter, and everything feels like it's going to be okay.

even in your half-asleep state with your mind completely elsewhere, you still manage to take his breath away. maybe you really are the eighth wonder of the world after all.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 19.05.2024]

[2-dsimp]

if it’s no trouble could we get another part to DILF/ nanny reader? Maybe like a willing reader? Bc I know of a hot dad wanted to date me who am I to say no? Lol great work!!!!

Cw: fem reader! jealousy, possessive/obsessive tendencies, Quio and Miki butting heads, the plot thickens

Synopsis no.2: 【featuring you being caught in the middle between your coworker and employer literally and figuratively. Miki obviously hates your employer and makes it well known meanwhile Quio does the same vice versa. The Dilf tried his best to put his and Peina’s plan of seducing you into action. But he’s constantly getting interrupted. And He’s honestly so close to snapping at this point.】

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

“I wish you’d stop by here more often after all you’re already part of the family."

The Dilf sighs melodramatically, electing a small giggle from your lips. Seeing how he acted so distraught due to your absence. While he led you and your coworker to the living room, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch.

“Oh that’s kind of you to say Mr. Evinis but I can’t possibly impose on you guys. Plus I’ve still gotta work my boring office job”

You replied with a mirthful tone at his sweet comment truly feeling as if you’ve made a second home within your employers household. You’ve already grown accustomed to his friendly work staff and of course his darling daughter who was l always clinging onto you like a baby kitten. And the fact that her father was so chivalrous and kind didn’t help your own little crush from forming on the single dad.

“Oh perish the thought sugarling~ we’re lucky enough to even be blessed by your radiant grace. In this boring household.”

Quio reassures with a charming smile, as he makes sure to fluff up some fancy decor pillows for his lovely lady. After placing the plush pillows down where you’d sit, He then put a hand on your shoulder giving a comforting squeeze.

“In fact me and the little squirt have always gotten excited at seeing you pull up and we’d be more than happy to keep you hostage here if possible”

The Dilf admits in a cheesy manner, which made you feel at ease. From how sweet his insistence at you dropping by often to hang out was. Being none the wiser to how he was being 100% serious. About the part where him and his daughter briefly molled over the idea of keeping their lovely nanny hostage at their mansion. Since they honestly couldn’t get enough of how addicting your sunshine liken presence.

Lit up every dark lonesome corner of the estate and they’d be damned if they every let you get a chance to escape from their sights. brandishes a pearly grin at the thought of being able to cater personally to his future missus.

“Also if your boring office job is what’s holding you back from spending quality time with us then I can think of a couple solutions to—“

“Um, let me stop you right there man. Whatever you’re pitching would be nice and all but I need my work wife.”

Once again you missed the small micro transgression within the Dilf’s facial features as his eye twitched at the irksome interruption done by that worthless dickbag.

“Aha work wife? With someone like you? I see you’re the type to joke around huh?”

He replied in an tone of condescension giving Miki a mean spirited smile. And an idle glance over full of scorn at the self assured confidence in this boy, who was proclaiming that his darling was his work wife.

“Well I am quite the jokester—wait what the hell do you mean by someone like me??”

You nearly busted out laughing at how Miki got a miffed expression on his face from the subtle dig done by the famous actor. You didn’t necessarily claim to be Miki’s work wife as nice as his company was. He was an utter shitty coworker to have when you’re trying to get shit done. Whenever you two were paired it’d be him cracking jokes while you were working like an effective machine.

“Well If anything they’re my work wife, no my wife, since yknow she’s looking after my kid like the little darling angel she is”

Quio nearly purred with a sharp edge to his voice as he blatantly rubbed it in Miki’s face the sheer difference. Between the two of them and how he was ultimately more important in your standings.

“Anit that right sweetness?”

The single dad hummed with a sickening sweet expression that resembled a hopeful doe eyed buck. His shouldering eyes never failed to make your heart do kick flips from how they always seemed to focus on purely you. Almost as if you were his world, his missing half. You got extremely flustered that you could barely even respond to his words. Until Miki let out a sneer and fixed his apparent love rival a shrewd scowl.

“Oh please as if! She’s your Nanny, not your substitute wife. Plus I already called dibs on her first, my guy.”

The sight of that damned flea mansplaining on the couch with the slinging over his arm right behind your head. Made Quio imagine ripping that same offending arm from our his socket and bitch slapping him with it.

“Dibs? Are you insinuating that she’s an object to be possessed by the likes of a peasant like you?”

He taunts snarkily, dropping his nice guy facade as makes his way to sit right in between you and Miki. Squeezing his bulky frame in the middle of the couch he gracefully crosses his legs as he swats off the offending arm behind your head and replaces it with his own.

“Tch! Now you know that’s not what I meant. It’s always you actors spinning fabricated lies. And the fuck did you just—“

“Miki don’t you think that it’s time for you to go soon? You’re gonna be late for work”

You interjected seeing how things were getting out of hand between the two offending men. Quio merely gave a smug smile as he saw Miki begrudgingly get up with an scowl on his face. You were right he had to go soon since he couldn’t be late for his promotion into higher management. He didn’t tell you that yet because he wanted to surprise you on the day you both worked the same shift.

“Ah fuck your right, thanks for the reminder what would I do without my precious work wife?”

Miki emphasized loudly, Shooting a glare towards the A-listed actor as he then gave you an abrupt hug goodbye whilst still glowering at the Dilf. The two seemed to be exchanging a clash of mixed silent threats behind your back.

Quio “gently” nudged Miki away from his darling with a hard shove with the pointy tip of his shoe upon his midriff. Making your coworker stumble back with a sharp exhaled grunt escaping his lips. Good, he hoped that fucker gets sore down there. The single dad was always about getting his get back by being petty whenever someone blatantly tried to piss him off.

“Alright that’s enough Casanova wouldn’t wanna keep your bosses waiting yeah?”

The Dilf chirped in a sweet noncommittal manner as he briefly pulled you into a side hug. As if to cleanse you from the poor touch Miki had given you. Miki had to bite back his tongue since he really couldn’t afford to waste time with the man’s shenanigans. And rolled his eyes he could only afford to shoot you a word of warning with concern shining in his eyes before he made his way outside of the million dollar manor.

“Be careful… You know how actors are, always so full of shit. Call me when you’re done I’ll come to pick you up okay?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t let the door hit cha on ya on the way out Miki”

Quio sassed as he couldn’t wait to have that cocky fucker out of sight and out of mind. There were so many times where the actor came close to acting out. One of his many aspiring roles which consisted of him being a deranged serial killer. It would’ve gave him peace of mind to choke out that lanky shithead and watch the life leave his eyes.

But he had better things to do at the moment rather than drone in about how he’d murder Miki in cold blood. Like wooing you over for instance which was unfortunately put on pause due to a pest intent on getting in the way between you and him. So he feels a sense of relief wash over him as Miki leaves, knowing that he can finally have you all to himself.

“It seems like you two get along well enough already”

You caught the Dilf off guard with your off handed comment as he gave you a raised brow and an apprehensive smile. He shook his head slightly and gave a dark chuckle at how naive you were to perceive their little spat to be that of a friendly origin. When they clearly wanted to go at each others necks.

“It would seem so… But hey I was wondering if you’d be interested in—“

His phone decided to go off in the most headache inducing way. He could hear the annoying ringtone which indicated that his manager was calling and he bit back a snarl from being interrupted once again. Collecting himself he excused himself from the couch not being fore taking your hand in his and giving it a small chaste kiss as he gave you an apologetic gaze.

“Sorry about this sugarling I’ve gotta take this call I’ll be right back”

With his servants taking leave at his behest today was the day he planned on tying the metaphorical knot with the cute Nanny that stole both his and his little girl’s heart. So his manager had better got a pretty damn good reason for bugging him on his day of vacation leave. Or else they’ll get added to the hitlist alongside that damned coworker of yours.

。

。

。

I’m thinking of making this into a mini series, let me know if I should continue!o(≧v≦)o

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Having The Same Abilities As Wolverine

Requested: Heyy! Can I request a the boys preference where reader is a supe who pretty much has wolverine's powers? Ty!! - @ghostlyaccurate

Requested: Hii can I request the boys pref x female wolverine? <33 - anon

A/N: Reminder my loves! Everything is written as gender neutral, I don't write specifically freader or mreader. I hope you like it! I am working 100% from Wolverines Wikipedia page lol since I forget most of his powers. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher finds your abilities both disgusting and impressive. Your super sight, smell, etc. are really helpful in certain situations. He jokingly calls you their own personal Tek Knight, which you shut down immediately. What's disgusting is when your claws come out, breaking through the skin of your knuckles. There's a lot of blood. There's a lot of pain even with your healing. And something about them just freaks him out. You jokingly try to poke him with them, touch him with them, and though he'd never admit it, he absolutely hates the feeling. There's just something wrong about them that he can't pinpoint or describe. They're helpful for sure and watching you use them is always gory, he'd just like for them to go away as quickly as possible.

Hughie finds you fascinating. The healing and the claws are always cool, but it's the fact that you're so much older than all of them, so much more experienced, and yet you age so little. Because you're body heals so well, you age at a slower rate than the rest of the world. While that's not totally new for Supes, he's always interested in hearing about your life. You have so much knowledge, so many more experiences, so many lives lived before this mess took over. You find it the least interesting part of your abilities, but Hughie's always had an appreciation for the underappreciated. He loves to listen to you talk about the past, what the world was like, what Vought and The Seven were like. It wasn't always this fucked, at least that's the conclusion he comes to as you talk. It was fucked, it was a mess, but the introduction of Homelander really set in stone this future.

Annie is your confidant. The healing factor has saved your and others lives countless times, but everyone forgets you can still feel pain. Long after your body has put itself back together, the phantom pain lingers. It's excruciating and, secretly, you live in fear of being torn apart. Days and weeks later, you move as if you're still broken. You'll wake up, confused for a moment, expecting to be torn limb from limb, before you come to your senses. Even your claws leave your hands raw, arthritic. You know Annie thinks about that more than anyone else. You told her one night about the pain and since then she's always been aware, quietly asking you if you're alright. Sometimes the pain goes away in a few hours, other times it takes weeks. It all depends on the severity. You try not to complain, knowing you must sound like a broken record, but she doesn't see it that way.

M.M., kind of like Butcher, is weirded out by your claws. He doesn't mind the healing or the heightened senses. For the most part, those things are hidden. It's the claws he gets the heebie jeebies from. You poke fun at him because of this. Out of all the Supe abilities you could have gotten, claws aren't the oddest thing you could have developed. He is reminded of Webweavers abilities and that puts things into perspective for a little while. He didn't trust you in the beginning. It was hard to show him you weren't just another Supe hopped up on V. You're a lot older than everyone, you've experienced more, you're wiser than he gives you credit for. He learns to trust you because of your level head. In situations where other people would be losing their shit, you're calm, cool, and collected. It isn't your abilities that make him befriend you, it's the person underneath them.

Frenchie both loves and hates your abilities. He finds your claws fascinating. Every time you use them he's left in awe. He loves watching you use them, the way you can hide them and bring them out when they're least expecting it. He doesn't find them weird or odd like his friends. They're amazing. He hates, though, that your heightened senses are basically a lie detector test he fails every time. You know when he's been drinking, smoking, getting high. You try not to make a big deal about it, but you do talk to him about it in private. You know when he's lying, though any non-Supe could figure it out when they learn all his tells. He's not as good as he thinks he is at lying. He's always amazed with your stamina, too. It's something a lot of people tend to overlook about your powers, but he doesn't.

Kimiko and you bond effortlessly. Your abilities are so similar and yet so different. Together you're a fantastic duo, unstoppable. She likes touching your claws, though hates the way they have to come out. She knows what it's like, to have to sacrifice yourself, your body, for the greater good. She knows what it's like to wake up confused and, for a moment, feeling as if you're missing parts of yourself. The two of you work together effortlessly and find a lot of humor in your abilities whereas everyone else sees a severed limb of broken bones, you can see just how silly the body is, how fragile and easily it both breaks and repairs itself. She loves your heightened senses and always tells her what you can find out: M.M. got a new chapstick (strawberry), Butcher ate something with peppers, Annie got Hughie a new cologne, etc.

[ultralightpoe]

Anti-hero - Roy Kent

Authors Note : Based off a request I got {Could you do a Jamie or Roy fic with a girl who feels self conscious as their date to a gala or something? Lots of fluff and comfort! If you don’t want to write it, no worries 💜} A quick reminder that you are all beautiful and truly wonderful. You all deserve the world, and I hope you all find your own Roy Kent. -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 3,997

Warnings: self doubt. curse words

Requests: OPEN

Main Master list - - Midnights Event List

(Thank you for the gif @50shadesofpemberlypost )

x Enjoy x

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

- 

It had been an issue for years, one that was directly caused by your mother. 

It’s not that she was a villain, and it wasn’t like she knew she was doing it anyways, it was always something that just managed to slip out of her mouth in passing moments . A quick ‘that shows your back fat’ there and a ‘are you sure you like that color? It washes you out baby’. Always said with that tone that made you rethink every decision in life. 

She did it out of love. 

But the comments she made built up, that and the pressure of school and social media building up. It all took a toll on you. You found your life mixed with new issues. Anxiety, self-doubt, depression, and you became a new person. 

It was like a shadow version of you, one that tracked how much she ate and thought about how loud she laughed and how much was too much talking. Every single move you made was tracked and overthought.

But then Roy came into the picture. 

At first you did what you usually did, you tried to speak low and not draw too much attention. Tracking how much you laughed and how much you ate. It was fine because your friend group never really realized it, they didn’t know a thing was out of place. But Roy, who had been brought by his sister, was quick to call it out. 

“Fucking stop that.” He muttered when you tried to fix your skirt, using his hand to slap yours away. “You look fucking perfect. Take a breath, yeah?”

“I just…. I’m debating the color, everyone else wore pastels and I hadn’t realized that it would be that type of party.” You admit, body hot with embarrassment as a group of girls pass you at the party. But that was the least of your worries, you had eaten too much cake and had tripped on the stairs in front of your friends. Could everyone see your makeup on your neck? Were they laughing at you-

“Do you overthink everything?” Roy blurts, catching your elbow to pull you back gently as a waiter with a heavy tray passes by. “Because I’ll tell you right now that you’re the prettiest fucking woman at this party.”

“You can’t say that at someone’s birthday party.” You laugh, stepping closer to him without realizing. “That’s one of the biggest rules. It’s like saying someone is prettier than Aphrodite. Next thing you know that person will be cursed to marry your father because the goddess hates you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s…. Greek mythology. I’m not going to marry my dad. It… okay. I’ve ruined this so I am just going to-” You move away quicker than he can follow and you think that it was over. But you had not known just how determined Roy Kent was. 

Soon enough he was taking you out, one date became 4 which led to a relationship. 10 months in and you were the happiest you had ever been. He saw you, in every outfit and every mood and every way, and he loved you just as you were. 

But there was something you didn’t expect, the amount of attention that would come with dating a professional football player. It was a whole new demon in itself. 

- 

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

- 

Lunches with your mother were the worst, and yet you loved her more than anything. Today she chose an extremely fancy restaurant dressed in a Valentino outfit and her makeup to perfection as she cut her salad up with her fork and knife. 

“Oh this is dreadful.” She sighs, shaking her head. “There is barely any chicken in here. This is insane. Do you see chicken?”

“There is chicken.” Roy shrugs, narrowing his eyes a bit. Lunches with them were always such a weird dynamic considering they were exact opposites. Your mother looked for drama, she thrived off of arguing. Roy chose brutal honesty, he worked best on shutting arguments down before they could even start.  “It’s right there.”

“Oh, baby that is a terrible color on you.” She huffs, sitting the plate back down and turning her glare on you as her hand raises to call the server over. “It washes you out. What have I told you about-”

“She looks fucking stunning today.” Roy scoffs, blinking slowly. 

“It’s fine.” You whisper to him, trying to defuse the situation. 

“No, it’s not.”

“Now I read somewhere that there is a big fundraiser gala coming up, it was in the paper. I assume you both will be attending.” Your mother begins, smiling when the server starts heading over. “You should let me dress you darling. I know how you get anxious about that all and I want to make sure you look your best.”

“She’ll look bloody fantastic in anything-”

“Oh you finally decided to serve your table.” Your mother interrupts him, talking to the server and completely disregarding your boyfriend. 

He takes a moment to lean over to you, catching your eyes. “I’m about to stab my fork into my fucking eye.”

“I know.” You smile, leaning in closer to kiss his cheek which makes him growl a bit at the pda but you see the smile he fights off anyways. “We’ll be gone soon.”

“You look great and the dress you pick will be fantastic. Don’t listen to her.” He gruffs out. 

“Have you seen those posts of you two? They were commenting on your age difference and I just want you to know that I do not think you are too immature for him. Truthfully honey I am proud, I never thought you’d make it with someone so accomplished. I mean it’s not like you had many prospects.” She laughs as the server sends Roy a wide eyed look while taking her plate away leaving the table once more. 

“That’s it.” Roy snaps, slamming his silverware down on the table and pointing his finger at her. “You watch how you speak to her. She’s perfect. And she will be a bombshell at the gala.”

Your mothers face flushes, blinking at him slowly as Roy goes back to his meal like nothing happened while you fight off a smile, your foot rubbing his calf under the table in a silent thank you before you try to pull it back only for his legs to slam shut keeping your foot held there. 

He sends you a sharp look, but the corner of his mouth curves up and you know that was his way of showing his love so you take it, smiling right back at him. 

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

The dress you chose for the gala was perfect, you were excited to wear it and truthfully you were excited about the whole thing. This would be the first event you had ever attended with the Richmond team in the public eye, and you wanted to make a good impression. 

But your mothers words from the years rang through your head constantly as you waited for their practice to end, leaning against the wall in the hallway as you thought about everything. 

“Oh! Hello.” A angelic voice rings out, pulling your attention to Rebecca Welton coming down the hallway, making you stand up quickly. 

“Ms. Welton! Hi, hello, hey…. I’m saying hi in too many ways.” You blush, moving to shake her hand. “It’s great to see you again.”

“I was just about to say the same thing. Are you waiting for the boys?”

“I am, yeah. My car is in the shop so I need a ride.” 

“Oh lovely, will I be seeing you at the gala? I have been planning it for weeks, my ex husband used to plan it. The wanker.”

“I’ll be there. I just hope I dress well enough.” You laugh slightly, but her eyebrow raises and you panic slightly. Did everyone on this team just see right through all your shit? 

“You’ll look perfect. I wish I still had a figure like yours.”

“ANGEL!” Someone calls out before you are lifted into the arms of Danny Rojas, kissing the side of your face as he swings you around. 

“Alright. Set her down, will ya?” Roy snaps, coming around the corner and rubbing his knee as Danny sets you down quickly, kissing your cheek one more time before heading away. You lean forward and rub Roy’s knee right where you know he feels the most pain. 

“Is it hurting a lot?” You mumble, as he pulls your hand away. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, I just don’t want to moan in the middle of this hallway. Let’s go home?” Before you can even answer he is grabbing your bag and moving to take you to the car. 

- 

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

- 

Roy was in a shit mood the day of the gala, slamming cupboard after cupboard. You knew he was irritated about having to dress up and see the reporters that used to write about him all the time, and you knew in moments like this it was best to let him work through it. But sometimes you just couldn’t stay away. 

Shuffling closer, in his shirt, you wrap your arms around his center and shove your face into his back. He huffs out as he keeps swiping  the sponge against the counter, but he doesn’t push you away so you take a chance and kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s going to be okay. What they say about you doesn’t matter.”

He sighs out, letting go of the sponge before turning around in your arms and wrapping his own around you, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“You were young and they were assholes for that…. So fuck them.”

“Fuck them.” He repeats. 

“You’re going to walk by them in your fine ass suit with your fine ass body-”

“Please don’t objectify me.” He mumbles, but a smile is already on his lips as he leans down to kiss you deeply before pulling back. “And I will have the brightest fucking gem with me tonight.”

“Oh, c’mon.” You blush, trying to pull back but his arms are tight around you. 

“I think we need to fuck.” He huffs kisses at your face again. 

“Don’t be so crass!” You laugh, trying to escape him and shuffling you both to the bedroom right as your phone rings. “It’s my mother.”

“No. Don’t answer.”

“I have to, or she’s gonna be mad.” You answer back, watching his face turn dead serious as he looks at you. His hands come up to rub at your jaw. 

“You listen to me you little rat.” He mumbles, you fighting back a laugh at the nickname. “Don’t listen to a word she says, because you are beautiful.”

“I won’t. I promise.” You promise, kissing his lips deeply and losing yourself to the kiss for a moment before he pulls back and shuffles to continue cleaning the counter. You swipe your thumb across the screen and mumble out a “Hello mother.”

“Oh you’re there! I thought you were about to ignore my call.” She snaps through the phone. 

- 

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

- 

You broke your promise, and you let your mother get the best of you. 

Her words from earlier bounce around your mind as you get ready. You debate whether or not your hair looked healthy as you spray hairspray across it. Did it look greasy? Untamed? Could they see your split ends?

Was your nail polish the wrong color? Was there a patch of hair on your legs that you missed? Did the dress color wash you out? Did you look too heavy? Was it too late to cancel?

“You look…. “ Roy blinks, coming up behind you to help zip the dress. “Fuck.”

“Is that good?” You ask, biting at your lip as he leans to kiss the nape of your neck. 

“Good? You look bloody amazing.” He snaps, kissing your neck one more time before standing straight. “Now let’s go make money.”

“What are we fundraising for? I never looked into it?”

“I have no fucking clue.” 

“Right.” You laugh, turning with your hand in his as he kisses your knuckles softly. “Then let’s go make money for whatever needs money.” 

“Make a fortune.”

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

Your lip was worn down from the amount you had been biting it. 

Walking up to the gala you saw a red carpet with dozens of flashing cameras and begin to panic as you get closer, your hand tightening in Roys as he stands straighter. You would not be able to handle the cameras and see your picture all over the internet. What would people say? They would trash you, oh how bad would it be?

But Roy, ever the perfect man, simply held your hand tight and walked across the red carpet with a confidence that made your skin hot. He muttered to each that called his name, his voice deep and uncaring. “No. No. Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck no.”

A smile blooming across your face as you let him lead you into the building where everyone is walking about with drinks in their hand. 

“I’m going to go get us drinks. Your usual?” He asks, waiting for your nod before heading in the direction of the bar leaving you standing there to take a look around. 

You took your chance to look around at everyone around you, smiling at anyone you make eye contact with. The anxieties began rising, as every gorgeous female passed you in their perfect dresses. Was your dress cheap looking? Did you look pathetic?

You were caught up in your thoughts as Jamie approached with his date, a model that introduces herself with a hug that makes you sniff caramel, leaving you with a crater in your chest as you look at her perfection. Jamie talks about the gala, looking around at everyone as a flash makes you blink, all three of you turning to the person that just took your picture. 

“The actual fuck?” Jamie scoffs, staring at him. “We were having a conversation, ye?”

“Sorry.” The man nods, moving to walk off and bumping into Nate with another apology. “Didn’t see you.”

“Hi Nate.” You smile, trying to seem calm when he walks up. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Mr. Lasso actually bought me this suit.”

“Who?” You blink, trying to see who he had been talking about. It wasn’t meant to be a snappy or snide comment, you had yet to be introduced to the new coach and the name didn’t ring a bell at first. But the second you saw the man with the mustache owning the crowd not far off you knew who Nate was talking about. 

But when you turn back to Nate you see a glare set on his features, his cheeks a little red as he blatantly looks away from you. “You look great, Jamie. You as well Keeley.”

Then he walks off, bumping into you harshly as he passes which makes the blonde look at you with wide eyes as Jamie excuses himself for another drink. 

“Oh, that was extremely rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked about the coach- that was-”

“What are you talking about?” She blinks, looking extremely confused. “You didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Here you are.” Roy grunts, handing you the chilled glass. “Keeley.”

“Hello Roy.” She smiles before Jamie whistles to pull her over. 

“Did he just call her like she was a dog?” You ask Roy as she walks over, and he shrugs. 

“He’s a wanker. Always has been and always will be.” Roy grunts out, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t ever pass the ball. And he is a massive tool. You should hear some of the things he says to-” He begins to explain as you try to smooth out your dress before his hand shoots out to stop you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Your answer was too quick, his eyes narrow and he catches it. 

“What happened?”

“I just…. I think I upset Nate because I asked to Lasso was and I didn’t mean to and everyone here looks amazing. But I’m fine. Everything is fine.” 

“Did that little fuck say something?”

“No. It’s fine Roy. Everything is fine.” You smile, leaning forward to kiss his lips which he allows before moving back and holding his hand knowing he doesn’t like pda.  “Let’s go find our seats?”

- 

I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from hell"

- 

“Hello Roy, you handsome devil you.” A southern voice rings out, walking up to where you and Roy were seated together. “And what pairs so well with a handsome devil? An angel.”

“The devil is technically… well historically the devil is an angel.” You blush, immediately feeling stupid as the fun fact slips from your lips. “Well, I mean- I’m sorry that was stupid.”

“Stupid? Absolutely not. I feel ashamed that I didn’t know it.” He laughs, leaning to shake your hand. “My name is Ted, all my friends call me Ted which means you must.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Roy was telling me about all the new techniques at your practices.” You smile, making your boyfriend shake his head. 

“I said nothing good.” Roy huffs.  

“He said everything good.” You smile which makes Ted smile back. 

“You both look fantastic. Have a drink on me, since it’s an open bar.” Ted jokes, moving to walk away as Roy places his hand on your lower back. 

“Why the fuck would you tell him that I said good things?” He huffs and your stomach drops. 

“I’m sorry. It was just teasing and you do always say great things about him so-”

“Take it easy. You are fine.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t noticed but your fists had clenched and your nails were digging into your skin, his own fingers were quick to make you release the hold and rub his thumb over the crescent marks left on your skin before bringing your hand up to kiss your palm. 

“I thought you hated pda.” You whisper, leaning so your foreheads were pressed together as he pretended to roll his eyes. 

“Fuck it. I have a gorgeous date and I deserve to kiss her in public.” 

“Are you sure? It’s a big move for you.”

“Have you seen yourself? Prettier than the goddess aphrodite.” He smiles and your eyes widen. 

“How. Dare. You! What have you done? I’m going to have to marry my dad now. Roy, how could you have done this to me?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I also cannot believe you remember that from almost a year ago.”

“Of course I remember.” He blinks. “That was the first conversation I had with the love of my life. Who would forget that?”

“Oh knock it off.” You mumble, shaking your head. 

“Knock it off? Knock what off?” He snaps. “Do you realize how fucking lucky I was that day? The day you looked at me? My life was made. The second best day of my life.”

“Second?”

“Second. My niece’s birth is the first.” 

“I’m fucking honored.” You laugh, smiling from ear to ear. 

“Did you just cuss?”

“I did. I’m sorry. My mother would kill me.” You blush. 

“Can I be honest with you for a second?”

“When are you not?”

“Fuck your mother.” He blurts, which makes your eyes widen. “I hate her. I think she is miserable and you are far fucking prettier than aphrodite and you don’t have to worry about the goddess making you marry your dad because I will be marrying you. No goddess or god could keep me from you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re stuck with me. And I need you to stop being to fucking mean to yourself. You hear me?” He asks seriously. “Because that’s the love of my life you are talking about.” 

“I can try.” 

“Good. Now lets get another round and wait this fucking gala out. Then lets go get actual food because I know you skipped lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile before a flash blinds you once more, making you both whirl to the man with the camera. 

“You fucker-” Roy begins to stand as he dashes off. 

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees

- 

You both end up at a late night potato stand, sitting on one of their benches as you both laugh at the memory of the auction that had taken place. 

“A fucking grandma bid on me. You know how embarrassing that was?”

“Hey! I bid on you too!” You laugh, body shaking from laughing so hard. “And Keeley!”

“Keeley was pissing that little wanker off.” He huffs, rubbing your thigh gently as you keep his blazer wrapped around you. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“Thank you for bringing me. I am sorry I upset Nate-”

“Stop saying sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He mumbles, leaning to dig his spoon into your baked potato and take a big mouthful of it. “Fuck. That is good.”

“You say that about anything I get! You always do this!” You laugh, pretending to pull the potato away. 

“You always choose better!”

- 

It's me, hi (hi), I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea (tea) time (time), everybody agrees (everybody agrees)

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

“Fuck!” You wake up to the sound of Roy yelling from the kitchen, rushing to wrap yourself in the sheet left on the bed from last night as your feet pad across the floor to find where he is at. 

You find him sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, glaring at his laptop, until he sees you coming out of the bedroom in just a sheet. 

“Fuck.” Unlike his last curse this one is said with a lusty tone, setting the coffee down as you come closer to the couch and move to sit by him. 

“What’s got you so mad, handsome?”

“They posted a picture of me and they said I’m retired. What fucks.”

“Is it a bad idea? To be retired?” You ask, moving to straddle him before he can pull an attitude. “You would have more time with me. More time to hang out and cuddle and sleep and…. You can finish the rest.” 

“.....Fuck.”

[hertenskylarks]

More 2 Cents on S3

So, I know there’s already a lot of talk going around. Here’s my 2 cents. 

In light of the recent news, I keep hearing a lot of “Oh, I hope the third season doesn’t get canceled,” and “Oh, I hope it does. Fuck Gaiman,” and “Oh, what about Terry’s vision? What about the fans? What about closure?”

I have absolutely zero control as to whether or not season 3 is made. Many arguments for and against it have already been made. I don't want to beat a dead horse, but I will offer this perspective from my own personal experience. 

I’m a swing dancer, and my rapist was my teacher and one of the first people who ever taught me how to dance. One of the things that made me hesitant to come forward was that he was one of the most likable characters in my scene. He was the funny, goofy guy who wore funky printed shirts, he was sooo nice, he couldn’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

Seeing people praise him, hearing people talk about how great he is when I knew what he did to me… It drove me absolutely mad. I just wanted to shake people and say, “No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand who he is!” But I felt like I just couldn't. I felt his reputation was too iron-clad to say anything.

Coming forward was one of the scariest things I ever did because I was so sure people either wouldn't believe me or wouldn't care. And, as predicted, that was the case for some. You can only imagine how I felt when someone I used to call my friend went on to have him officiate her wedding. You can only imagine how I felt when the response from the organizers of the dance scene was to ask me to avoid mentioning Y-Town Swing in social media posts (Oops) to protect their reputation. You can only imagine how I felt when they continued to have him as a teacher, or when they updated their safe space policy to say they are not responsible for anything that happens “outside a Y-Town swing event.” 

Oh, so if he raped me in the bathroom at the event instead it would have made a difference? Right, sorry, didn't realize the location or a rape mattered that much.

Anyway…

This was all in the confines of a small dance scene, in a small city, in a very niche hobby. Now, imagine how it must feel when your rapist and abuser is a fucking best selling author, praised as this ally to women and LGBT people, he’s the quirky guy who has a Tumblr and actually responds to his fans and he’s so cool, he’s one of us, he can’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

I can only imagine how fucking mad it drove his victims to know who he really is and see him put on such a high pedestal. 

So, however this all unfolds, I will say this. The people I care about most are the victims. I say this as someone who loved and still loves Good Omens, I say this as someone who was torn up about the final 15, as someone who rejoiced when S3 was originally announced, before all the allegations came to light. I care about the victims. 

But what about the fans? Listen, it’s a fucking TV show. Do you really mean to tell me the ending of a fictional fucking story is more important than the very real people he’s hurt? Not having an ending to your favorite show does not hold a candle to the trauma of being sexually assaulted. There’s no comparison. Not in the same ballpark. Not even in the same galaxy. 

But what about Terry?

Terry is dead and in his grave. I am sorry to say this, but whether his vision comes to life or not, he will never be the wiser. It makes no difference to him. If I could wave my magic wand and have Terry alive and well and Gaiman dead and in his grave, believe me, I definitely would, but that is not the hand we were dealt. 

So please, all I ask is this. Before you go spouting shit like, “I hope we don’t lose S3,” or “I just need to know how it ends,” put yourself in their shoes for just a second.

Imagine you are Claire, or Scarlett, or any of his other victims. Imagine you are sexually assaulted by someone whom the world just puts on a pedestal. You have to sit there and listen to him get praised as being “such a great ally to women and minorities” and “he’s one of us,” and “he’s so brilliant. He’s so cool. He really listens to his fans. Look at this quote of his I got tattooed on my body.” And for years you just sit there and take it, because you’re so fucking afraid that no one will believe you if you come forward, you’re told your story “isn’t enough,” you watch him get richer and richer while you’re stuck with the therapy bill for everyting this “great ally of women” did to you. 

Now imagine that you finally come forward. You finally muster up the will to speak your truth, and tell people what he did to you, and you find that you’re not the only person he’s hurt. The world is finally hearing your story and learning what a manipulative monster he is. 

And now, I want you to think very carefully about what it means if we still get S3. 

S3 means press tours. It means more reviews praising him as a genius. It means certain people being contractually obligated to say nice things about him, or at the very least, not say negative things about him. It means, once again, seeing his fucking horse face or his name everywhere, on Amazon, on billboards, on busses, on posters, in adverts. Only now, it's AFTER the world heard your side of the story.

Just imagine how that would feel. 

So, if it wasn't obvious by now, my stance on S3 is… I don't really want it to happen. Not out of spite or some deep seated hatred for Gaiman (although, ya know, fuck that guy) but out of consideration for the people he's hurt, as someone who knows exactly how it feels to see the person who hurt you get put on a pedestal. 

I understand that production is paused and people think he may be getting removed from the project. I'm not going to comment on that because "paused” can mean a lot of things and there's so much we don't know yet.

There will be other shows. 

There will be shows that DO have satisfying endings. 

Media and shows can be replaced. 

But there is no such thing as being un-raped. 

[perseephoneee]

rest your eyes [castiel x reader]

synopsis: you can't sleep so castiel helps you

a/n: i am sick with covid and have been rewatching supernatural with my boo. castiel was literally my second crush ever, and i missed him so much, so i decided to write something (based on the fact i'm an insomniac who would totally sleep on an angel if offered)

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It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

It was supposed to go: hunting a monster in the woods and returning to some dingy motel that Dean found at the end of the day. Instead, the chase led you and the rest of the squad so deep into the woods that it was wiser to set up camp than try and trek back to civilization. The camp included a rock outcropping to protect from the weather, a shitty fire, and a lack of comfortable sleeping arrangements. Sam and Dean were used to sleeping on almost anything so they could pass out immediately. You, on the other hand, had insomnia sleeping in a regular bed and knew you were going to struggle to fall asleep with nothing more than the moss covering the ground. 

Castiel didn’t sleep, so he was keeping watch. You had your jacket balled up as a pillow under your head, and instead of closing your eyes and trying to encourage rest in your body, you were staring at Cas through thick lashes. He looked up at the sky, a serene expression on his face like he was thinking about what each star meant. The light from the fire flickered across his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, even his cupid’s bow. Sometimes, you were struck by just how beautiful he was, like some Greek artists, the idea of the perfect man, sculpted to perfection and thrown at your feet for just you to enjoy. You wondered how you ended up so lucky to be blessed with his presence. 

“Why do humans enjoy looking at the stars?” Castiel asks you in a soft voice to not rouse Sam and Dean. You should’ve guessed that he would notice that you were awake.

“I think…it’s nice to think about things far away from your own life,” you hum, giving up on your rock bed and sitting up, brushing leaves and other debris out of your hair. Cas looks at you, the blue in his eyes a shifting kaleidoscope from the dancing lights around you. “And the concept of stars is beautiful,” you sighed, curling your legs up and under. Cas tilted his head at that, brows slightly furrowed. It was your favorite expression on him. 

“Stars are just clouds of gas and light,” Castiel answers. 

“But they’ve traveled thousands of light years to reach us, even if they don’t realize it,” you smile, your eyes tracing the path of various constellations. You can feel Cas’ gaze, but don’t dare look over. Looking into Cas’ eyes is falling headfirst into an abyss you didn’t prepare for. 

“I like that,” Castiel exclaims, a hint of a smile on his lips. “That’s a…human way of looking at it.”

“I am human,” you chuckle.

“Yes, you are,” he resumes, staring at the stars. It’s silent again; the only sound is the crackling of the fire and your breaths. Sometimes, the quiet is interrupted by Sam’s snoring, but you don’t mind. Your boys deserve the rest. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Castiel inquires.

“It’s hard for me to sleep, especially out here,” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Castiel looks troubled by that statement like he is personally responsible for your ability to sleep. “When I was little, sometimes my Mom would put me in the car and drive me around in circles, singing or telling stories until I passed out.” You remember fondly, smiling a little to yourself. “I don’t think the ground is as comfortable as a car seat, though.”

“Would you like me to tell you a story?” Castiel asks. “If you need a pillow…you can use me.” He looks slightly uncomfortable, and the tips of his ears turn red, making you grin. He never fails to be adorable when he wants to be, and you know he’s offering out of the goodness of his heart. Still, the ID part of your brain is brainstorming all the ways he could profess his love for you, something that you stamp down as you shuffle over to him. He leans his back against one of the rock walls, stretching his legs out. He had already removed his trench coat, offering it to you as a blanket. It was large enough to swallow you and smelled precisely like Castiel in a way you wanted to remember for the rest of your life. You took your makeshift pillow and set it on his lap, laying your head there and curling up under his arm, which he hesitantly rested on your shoulder. You knew you had to coax your ever-beating heart to calm down if you were ever going to sleep, but it was hard when you were lying on the lap of an angel you had a crush on. Still, Castiel was a gentleman who didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable. 

“What’s your story?” you ask, voice small as you close your eyes and relax your body. 

“Early before humans won the race for my Father’s next creation, there was a pool going on for what Earth’s next great invention would be…”

Castiel’s voice, in its low timbre, started to lull you to sleep as you listened to his story. You liked listening to him talk, and he occasionally added funny anecdotes that would make you smile. You started tuning out of the story, instead focusing on the warmth from his lap, the smell of the open air and him, and especially how his fingers had started to absentmindedly stroke shapes on your arm. Eventually, you were pulled into a deep sleep, lingering in that space where you were only slightly conscious but not awake. That space was the only way you could feel Castiel petting your hair, brushing his fingers down your scalp to your neck and back to your shoulder. Even in your dreams that night, you swear you could feel his weight everywhere. 

You slept peacefully, without interruption, the whole night. Until morning, when the sound of voices roused you from your slumber.

“...did you get a girl in your lap?” Dean asked, sounding incredulous. 

“She is not in my lap. She is lying on half of my lap,” Castiel answered, ever the stickler for exact estimates. You could hear Dean’s groan and sarcastic retort. 

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to sleep?” you mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and pushing your face more profoundly into your pillow-jacket-thing. 

“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty, time to go hunting,” Dean called out. You let out a curse word, relaxing as you felt Castiel pat your head reassuringly. 

“You are much more Sleeping Beauty than I am,” you responded, finally opening your eyes to the daylight but not making a move to get up. Eventually, you realized you’d have to move, so you begrudgingly sat up, cracking your neck as you did so. “Thanks for the story, Cas,” you said, averting eye contact with the angel to avoid him seeing the light flush on your cheeks. You gave him back his coat, and he kindly removed a twig that got stuck in your sweater. 

“Did you sleep alright?” he inquired. You thought back to it and realized that for the first time in years, you slept through the whole night. 

“Yeah, I… slept well.” 

With that, Castiel smiled and helped you up. You were more alert on a hunt than you had been in a long time, all because a particular angel helped you achieve the best sleep of your life.

[shotanzz]

Who in riize do u think would like a partner who’s slightly older/younger than them, like a year or two age difference? N then who do you think would prefer someone who’s older and has more life experience? (Basically kinda in a who would want to be taken care of by their partner vs them being the one to take care of their partner type of way)

hmmmmm this may be a bit controversial I fear

RIIZE OLDER VS YOUNGER based on astrology~

reminder this is based off of MY opinions of their birth chart placements + aspects and is not exact fact unless I knew them myself and I am not a professional astrologer 🤍

Older

Seunghan

a lot of people think Seunghan would have a younger s.o but ngl..he'd probably like someone more older or at least a person that has more experience/more mature. I say this because the things he'd want the most I feel like he'd expect or more easily get from someone older. He wants someone that would be independent + confident in their place in the relationship, has experience in life in general (including partying/vices), and ngl he might want more tasteful luxury gifts so lowkey sugarmama/older gf vibes 😭.

Anton

I don't think he cares about age at all bc his chart doesn't indicate physical attributes minus the stereotypical feminine things (bouncy healthy hair, sweet perfumes, pretty nails) but I feel like he'd be best suited with someone older yk..like that would be best for him. Reason being, personality wise he wants someone mature, ambitious, independent, doesn't need to be babied/taken care of 24/7, can guide him, financial stable which is something you expect from a more mature/older person right ?

Middle Ground

alright ikik all my babygirls are wondering wtf Sungchan and Eunseok are doing here instead of the younger category but..walk with me....🤫

Sungchan

50/50 bc I feel like he can get what he wants from either age group. He has a cancer moon + leo venus so he may like reciprocity and for him and his s.o nurture or be attentive with each other OR he's ok with taking care of a younger/immature s.o & would be fine with being taken care of by a older/mature s.o. He likes someone to be educated, lowkey a little wiser and put together BUT he likes to wear the pants and be the lead/doting counterpart of the relationship. I just think he can get what he likes from either group and he probs is into cap risings.

Eunseok

Eunseok..probably just doesn't care LMFAO. As long as you're tall, hot, confident and charming he's all in. IM KIDDING OFC . but he can adapt to either relationship trope. He likes someone with a mature seductiveness thats independent and gives good concrete wise advice..BUT he also likes someone thats goofy and surprises him and has a teasing "hard to get" aura to them. So imo he'd go after either one as long as they were compatible with him.

Younger

(crazy I know)

Sohee

Sohee is typically the one being doted on and seen as the "cute" one and I just think he'd want to explore outside of that trope through his partner (sag venus tings). Plus I'm ngl Sohee's big 6 placements and his sun/uranus + mercury/mars aspects makes me feel like he'd feel kinda slowed down or restricted with an older/overly mature/serious partner. This is about to be contradictory ik but I feel like it’d be easier if said older partner had a more immature “cute” image

Wonbin

Wonbin probably likes...cliche dynamincs ngl..his taurus mars makes him feel more driven to the traditional/stereotypical dynamics yk so he's the masc and provides like the typical "oppa" type shit ykwim. Plus his Pisces Venus probably makes him idealize that type of stereotypical trope more. I also feel like an older partner would make him feel a more serious sense of responsibility and scare the shit out of him 😭😭.

Shotaro

Shotaro has a capricorn venus and I said in one post his ideal type could go either way and transition between being more playful+immature or sophisticated+mature I feel like he currently likes immature/younger partners (see how he dotes on Sohee/Anton the youngest members) but in the future would prefer someone more mature because that's just what I typically see in cap venus men,,they start with one ideal type and the older they get they switch to the other.

[astroboots]

CICI!!! I am obsessed with Miguel's chompers! his teeth!! I just want him to bite me!!!

Oh nonny I knoooooow. They are so pretty! They do something to me. So funnily enough I have this tiny little drabble in my WIPs for the longest time that I didn't quite know what to do with so I thought I'd throw this out here.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader

Word Count: 750

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

"Can I touch them?" you ask.

He raises one thick and perfectly arched eyebrow at you, with not a little judgment in his expression, as if he is looking at a fucking crazy person.

Which, he's probably not entirely wrong about, but it's rude nevertheless.

"You want to touch them?" He repeats, slowly with a deep sardonic drawl. The way you would speak to a not so bright child.

Heat prickles your cheeks. Miguel has this uncanny ability to get under your skin. He should add it to his list of superpowers.

"If it's a no, just say it's a no! There's no need to be an ass about it."

His lips pulls into a smirk, and for a fraction of a moment, you see a glimpse of the sharp edge of his corner tooth before he tucks them behind his lips, out of sight again.

Miguel gestures you forward, spreading his legs from where he's sitting on your couch. The motion has your brain stalling. You can't help but stare, he's wearing oversized sweats and you can still somehow see the definition of his legs shift against the fabric as he moves.

Shit, he definitely caught you in the act. His smile pulls even wider as he pats his hand down on the meat of his thigh. "C'mere nena."

What does he think you are? A dog?

For all your indignance at the gesture, you still go to him, and when you're within reach, his hand comes up to pull and tug you into his lap until you're comfortably perched there.

"You wanna touch, huh?" he teases, amusement dripping from the words as he smiles up at you and bounces you up on his knee.

God, of course he's going to make a big fucking deal of this. You don't know what possessed you to ask in the first place. You can really only answer with the truth:

"I'm just a little bit curious."

It's the understatement of the century. You are more than a little bit curious. You're absolutely fucking fascinated by them. Feel a trill of excitement everytime you catch a small glimpse of them when he's caught by surprise and smiles uninhibitedly at you.

Will stall out any moment during any dinner when he chews on his food and they peek out from his mouth.

Throughout the years, Miguel's gotten very good at hiding them. Conspicuously tucking them behind his lip that most people will never be the wiser. It's why he often mumbles why he speaks because doing both at the same time can be difficult. It's a part of himself that he never show, to the point that even though you've been together for a while now, it's only fairly recently that you've gotten to see them properly.

In front of you, Miguel leans back against the couch.

"Go ahead." He tilts his head up, baring his throat to you as he parts his mouth, and then you see them.

Those two prominent canine teeth of his. Fang-like pointy teeth on either side of the incisors.

Your ears burn. He never shows them to you this brazenly.

Raising your hand closer to his face, you can't help the way they are actually shaking with excitement. Your thumb grazes at the point of his left tooth, and you can feel the sharpness tingle against your pad.

God, you could cut yourself on these.

"You done? Ish a bit uncomfortable."

You hum distractedly, not fully taking in his words, entirely fascinated as you press your thumb with a bit more pressure again the edge.

"Careful, nena," he warns.

Stilling at his words, you pull your thumb from his mouth as you inspect it. It hasn't broken any skin yet.

"Why? Does poison always come out when you bite?"

There's that look on his face, like you just asked him the dumbest question on earth, then he laughs. "No. It'd be difficult to eat if that was the case. Most of the times it's dry bites. I used to bite myself on the lip all the time when I first got them."

"So what would happen if you bit me?"

He blinks up at your question. Smile fading as he considers your question as his eyes roams over your form slowly appraising you from head to toe. Something switches in him, no longer playful a tangible change that you see in the shade of his darkening eyes that shines crimson.

His arm snake around your waist, tightening his hold on you. "Do you want me to bite you, nena? Is that what you're asking?"

You swallow thickly at his words. Staring up at his saphire eyes that seems to glint with glee as he asks you the question.

Your back prickles with excitement just at the thought of it and for that moment you forget all about your hesitation or any shred of pride as you nod back at him.

"Yes," you answer. "Please."

A/N: This is nena from Every You Ever Me universe, do with that piece of information as you will.