#no but fr they made me point and scream 'this is why i'm never getting into a relationship'

[ellicler]

there is some (gender?) roles going on with anne & mary but it's subtle

mary is a bit more into no-nonsense brutality and anne's into twisted creativity. ed considers mary more stable and tends to seek advice from her (which she gives in spades, it was she who called it that ed&stede haven't had sex yet etc, she's the designated people understander) rather than anne (who just loves to bring maximum chaos to any situation and uses her empathy more intuitively to find weak spots in people, not always succeeding)

i wouldn't call them underwritten for how hard it is to tease their differences apart, they're perceived as anne-and-mary by this point, but that's probably on purpose, they were compatible in the first place and then they've been making each other worse for years & years. inseparable now <3

anne-and-mary are more parallel to ed-and-izzy than ed and stede

[ellecdc]

can i formally request something? (i have no idea if you take smut requests so please ignore me if not😭) a barty x reader smut where everyone already thinks they’re together so they’re like 🤔?? maybe they’re onto something

and maybe if they try to tell people (read regulus) they’re just like -_-¿ this is new

and well done on your exams!! i’m sure you aced them

hahaha omg this is so Barty and reader coded fr. thanks for your request (I hope I did it justice)

Barty Crouch Jr x afab fem!reader who have sex for the first sodding time, Evan

CW: smut - like straight up porn people, p in v intercourse, pussy slapping cuz apparently I'm a freak, soft choking, a slap in the face if you squint, 18+

This conversation had been going on for so long that you were truly fighting the urge to throw your head back and let out a guttural scream out of pure frustration.

But Barty never fought his urges.

“For fuck’s sake!” He screeched. “How many sodding times do you need me to say it: we - are - not - to - geth - er!” He shouted at Evan, emphasising each syllable with a stomp of his foot. 

Evan smirked and shared a look with Dorcas before rolling his eyes.

“Sure. And what exactly is this?” He asked, gesturing with his book at your tangled forms.

Okay, so maybe you and Barty were physically affectionate with each other - but that didn’t mean anything.

“What?” Barty asked simply.

“The way you’re sitting, Junior.” Dorcas drawled in a bored tone.

You both looked at each other like you were only just now realising your proximity to each other. 

You were positioned on the cushion of the sofa between Barty’s thighs with his arms wrapped around you and his hands weaselled under your shirt and tucked under your breasts.

What?

It was for warmth; he has terrible circulation, you know.

“We always sit like this.” You replied.

Evan scoffed. “You always sit like you’re one sneeze away from having his dick slip inside of you?”

“Okay, you know what?” Barty said, slipping his hands out from your shirt and patting your thighs to say ‘get up’, and standing up behind you. “I didn’t come here to be spoken to like this, least of all by someone who has his head shoved so far up his arse that he could check for tonsillitis.”

Evan shut his book he’d been pretending to read up until that point causing Barty to screech and shout at you to ‘save yourself’ as the two of you took off in the direction of his dorm room. 

You were laughing and breathless by the time you made it into Barty’s room and he shut the door behind you, casting a locking charm for good measure should Evan come looking for retribution for the slander.

“Honestly, I think they’re just jealous.” You said breathlessly.

Barty nodded as he sucked in a few deep breaths himself. “I mean, it’s kind of sad he’s never had a best friend that he felt so comfortable with, you know?”

“Exactly!” 

“And I don’t know why everyone has to make it so sexual. Do you have great tits? Sure. But that’s not why I put my hands on them!”

“Of course.” You agreed readily. “And I mean, are we two of the hottest people to walk these fucking halls? Of course we are -”

“Absolutely.”

“- but that doesn’t mean we’re shagging!”

“Right!” Barty said with finality as he finally sat down on the chair at his desk. “I don’t know why they have to make everything so weird.”

“Me either.” You groaned as you fell backwards onto Barty’s bed and stared up at the green velvet bed curtains draped over the four poster bed. “They’re probably just jealous.” You repeated. “I mean, we would make a really hot couple; I’d want to be with us too.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I was just thinking.” Barty agreed quickly. “And if we were having sex, they’d bloody know it. It would be hot.”

“Gods, it really would be, wouldn't it?”

“Without a doubt; I’m great in bed, and you’re great at everything.” Barty said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You know what.” You said as you sat up to face Barty. “It would be hot. Great sex comes from trust-”

“Check.”

“- communication,”

“Check.”

“Familiarity,”

“Duh.”

“Confidence.”

“Obviously.”

“We’d be sodding lucky to be shagging each other!” You proclaimed.

“I agree!” He responded. 

You both stared at each other; breathing slightly laboured having gotten yourselves so worked up pleading your cases (to no one, seeing as you were both clearly on the same page).

“Huh.” Barty said finally, giving your body a once over. “You know, maybe it is weird we haven’t fucked before.”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes met his green ones that held an intensity you’d not seen from him before.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Yeah.”

And like a flip had been switched, the two of you were launching yourselves at each other. 

No time was spent savouring touches or testing waters. It was all teeth clashing, tongues dancing, heavy breathing, and tearing each other’s clothes off.

It felt somehow both forbidden and oh so right.

You’d truly never thought about Barty like this; you really were just that comfortable with one another.

But as you pulled his shirt over his head and started fussing with his belt, a fire roared to life inside you screaming we should have been doing this the whole bloody time. 

You nearly tripped over the waistband of your trousers as Barty backed the two of you towards his bed where he sat on the edge.

You broke apart for air as he moved his sinful mouth down the expanse of your torso and took to marking up your breasts.

“Salazar they’re even better like this.” He murmured to himself before taking one of your nipples in his mouth whilst he pinched the other.

You ran your finger through his hair, an action you'd done many times before, but never like this.

You pulled at it roughly and brought his lips back to yours as you pushed him to lay back on his bed so you could straddle him.

“Merlin, Y/N. No foreplay?” He chuckled breathlessly as you gave his cock a few strokes and whispered a lubrication charm.

“Next time.” You sighed as you lined him up with your entrance and slowly sank down onto his cock, causing the two of you to moan in unison.

“Next time, huh?” Barty teased as he smoothed his hands up and down your sides, allowing the two of you to adjust to the feeling of one another before you experimentally rolled your hips.

“What? Don’t you want to fuck me, Junior?” You taunted right back.

Barty thrusted his hips up roughly into yours, causing you to cry out and place your hands on his shoulders to stabilise yourself. “I think it’s very obvious I want to fuck you.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, bringing your mouth back to his and biting gently on his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

You breathed a laugh out through your nose before you bit down harder.

“Then fuck me.”

And before you could tell which way was up, Barty had flipped the two of you over so he now hovered over top of you and had his hand wrapped around your neck.

“You want to be fucked, doll?” He groaned as he hooked one of your legs around his hip allowing himself that much deeper in you.

If there was one thing you could thank the fucked up breeding habits of Purebloods for, it was apparently the size of their cocks. 

“You want me to ruin you?” He continued as he added more pressure to your throat, still grinding into your now sopping cunt. “Make sure no other wizard is ever good enough for you?”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire; the feeling when you’re sitting on the poolside in the sun after a swim; the beads of water only make the sun’s rays feel that much warmer against your skin.

“Oi.” He demanded, giving your cheek a chastising tap. “You gonna be good for me?” He asked more seriously this time.

His beautiful green eyes were nearly fully eclipsed by his pupils as he continued moving in and out of you with what you realised now was a very controlled pace. But you were eager to see where he’d go from here.

“I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” He ordered.

“I’ll be good.”

“What was that?”

“I’ll be good, Barty.” You whined, pulling at his arms in an attempt to bring him closer.

“Who are you going to be good for?”

“You.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement as he hiked up your other leg and wrapped it around his hip.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll be good for you! Promise. I’ll be so good for you, please.”

Barty chuckled and let out a taunting cooing sound as he fell to his elbows and brought his face to yours.

“There’s no need to beg, sweets.”

And just like that, he was pulling away from you again.

Suddenly, his hands were on your hips and he lifted them into the air, holding them there as he began slamming into you. 

“Gonna be so fucking good for me, aren’t you angel?” He grunted.

You scrunched your eyes shut at the feeling of his throbbing cock pounding into you; adjusting his angle every few thrusts in search of something.

“I bet you’re a fucking screamer, huh? You always got so much to say babygirl; don’t go quiet on me now.”

His fingers dug further into the fat of your hips as he adjusted his grip on you, causing you to let out an embarrassing keening sound.

Apparently that was close, but not quite what Barty had been looking for.

“Close. How about we try…”

And he pulled out of you completely before landing a hard smack against your pussy, forcing a surprised scream to tear from your throat. 

“There’s the pretty sounds I was looking for.” He celebrated, rubbing placating circles on your clit before repositioning himself and sinking back into you. “Think you can keep that up for me, Princess?”

“Yes!” You cried quickly, grabbing helplessly at the bedding as he once again lifted your hips up into the air, finding that sweet spot inside you that he’d been in search of before his interruption.

He knew he found his mark when you let out another strangled sob.

“Alright pretty girl, there we go, huh? Does that feel good?”

You were babbling affirmatives nonsensically as he groaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him; yesses and pleases spilling from your lips.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

“Please Barty.” You cried, reaching a hand up to his wrist.

He let your hips fall to the bed as he brought one thumb to your clit and his other hand took yours in his.

“What is it, princess? Hm?”

“Please.” You whined, and it sounded pathetic even in your own ears in your current state.

But Barty only tsked and pulled two of your fingers into his mouth which he began to suck.

You could feel the tension building in your core as he quickened his pace with his thumb and his hips before letting your fingers go with a pop.

“I’ll take care of your princess, you know that. When have I ever let you down?”

Never.

“Never.”

He smiled triumphantly down at you; and though his mouth was cocky, his eyes were sincere. 

“Exactly. I’m not about to start now, yeah?”

And suddenly his thumb was gone from your clit, your ankles were thrown over his shoulders and he was leaning his weight against the backs of your thighs as he began thrusting into you with an air of desperation.

“Atta girl; so good, huh? S’good.” He grunted as his thrusts became somewhat sloppy. “S’fuckin’ good for me. Perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted with each thrust of his hips. “Please, oh gods, please, please Barty.”

“I know, I know.” He grunted, clearly as close to teetering over some sort of edge as you were. “I know, I feel it. You’re alright, yeah? Go on, sweets; I’ve got you.”

And his hands were holding onto your thighs for dear life and he was kissing at your knee like even that silly little part of you was something worthy of worship, and he did have you and he never let you down and he wasn’t going to start now and you saw stars as you finally fell over the edge.

The room fell quiet as Barty locked his lips on yours, and you realised you’d been screaming. 

His hips stuttered as he thrust into you once, twice, three times more before he followed you over the edge; letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he fell to his elbows on top of you and the two of you fought to catch your breath.

In complete contrast to the Barty who was only moments ago pounding mercilessly into you, he started placing, slow, lingering, gentle kisses over your face as his thumbs rubbed idly at your temples.

He pressed a kiss to your neck, your jaw, the tip of your nose, over your eyelids, your forehead, your ear.

You knew Barty could have a soft side, but you never imagined it so tender.

“I knew you’d be a screamer.” He whispered, breaking you out of the serene moment and surprising a bark of laughter from you, which caused both of you to groan in discomfort before Barty slowly pulled out of you. 

“Stay here, princess.” He instructed as he walked away from the bed and returned a few moments later with a warm cloth and one of his (read: your favourite of his) t-shirts.

You watched him carefully as he cleaned you up - and once again, what probably should have felt awkward or embarrassing felt nothing but natural as he doted on you. 

“Can you sit up?” He asked; not one hint of condescension in his tone as he held the neckhole of his shirt open for you to slip your head into.

As it poked through, he pressed a kiss to your lips before helping to thread your arms in.

“Is it safe to assume we’ll be doing that again?” You asked with a smirk, causing him to scoff dramatically. 

“We’ll be doing that the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it.”

After a shower and a change into comfies, the two of you returned to the common room, and though Dorcas was long gone, Evan could be found where the two of you had left him, now in the company of Regulus. 

“Well boys.” Barty sang dramatically as he swung his legs over the back of the sofa and landed on the seat with a bounce. “We just fucked.”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant goading as you sat beside him.

“Yeah? And I had potions today; so what?” Regulus muttered without looking up from his novel.

“What do you mean so what? This was the first time!” Barty argued.

“This is new.” You insisted severely.

“You know, I always knew Barty was a liar; but I expected better from you, Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped open as Regulus and Evan stood up and walked away from the seating area.

What you didn’t see as they walked towards the Slytherin dungeons was Regulus passing Evan five Galleons for their bet on who could convince the two of you to finally get over your “just friends” bit.

[soobinsonly1bf]

soobin + cockwarming while on discord with his friends

warnings: nsfw, gn!reader, reader's genitals are also not specified, softdom!soobin, sub!reader, cockwarming, in the end they fuck, kinda exhibitionism??, a little bit of humiliation, everything is consensual tho, unprotected sex, use of pull out method (guys, remember to always use protection!!!), they're so in love fr

!!nsfw under the cut, minors dni!!

it was always like this, soobin playing video games and talking with his friends on discord, while you were bored to death. but you still agreed to visit him every time he asked, knowing damn well he's not even gonna pay attention to you.

well, this time was different tho... a little bit too different, but both of you didn't mind it at all.

"be quiet." he shushed you. his hands on your hips, holding you in place and making it impossible for you to move. his dick deep inside you, making your eyes full of tears. his big cock inside of you were able to make you sob, even without moving at all.

"soobin- please..." you kept on pleading, as quiet as you could. you couldn't take it anymore. how can he be inside, but don't move? pure torture. his headphones were still on his head and the microphone was catching every little sound. goddamn his new headphones, why couldn't he keep his old ones?

"you want them to hear or what?" he asked, not even lowering his tone, with an innocent smile. it made you clench around him, you really couldn't help it... and he couldn't help the groan leaving his mouth for all of the voice chat to hear.

you could hear the questions from his friends, screaming loud enough for you to hear from his headphones. you knew his friends and did it made you even more turned on? of course it did, no matter how embarrassing it was.

your boyfriend was balls deep inside of you while on voice chat with his friends. friends that you met countless times. friends that thought of you as a smart, kinda nerdy, just like soobin, and innocent person.

but what will it be now? will they think you're a slut? just a pathetic slut that can't even leave their boyfriend alone for half an hour and just has to sit on his cock? even when he's talking with his friends? are you seriously that much of a whore that you just can't help, but need him inside of you?

"fuck, baby... calm down. don't tell me you're getting off to this?" now it was just straight up humiliating, but you knew he wasn't wrong at all. but did he seriously needed to tell his friends how much you're clenching around him now? "you like it? that my friends are gonna know how slutty you really are?" he continued, smirking down at you.

it was too much, you couldn't stand it anymore. little did you know it's not the end of his teasing, if you can still call it teasing. he took off the headphones from his head and put it on you. you froze as you heard his friends' comments.

"don't tell me soobin's seriously...", "i'm sorry, but why is it hot as hell", "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON", "at this point you can just turn on the camera too" you recognized their voices, you knew who they were and they knew you too. humiliating.

"stop..." you whined, your face now burried in the crook of his neck, the headphones dropped on the floor.

he suddenly looked worried. he took your cheeks in his hands. "shit, wait, did you meant it seriously? was it too much? god, i'm so sorry, i-" he was in panic now and you couldn't help, but giggle.

it was nice to see his usual self getting back once he thinks you're uncomfortable. because, of course, you two talked about it before starting. he would never do anything like that without your consent and it made your heart melt every time you remembered how soft he truly is.

"soobin, hey, it's alright... i just- yeah, let's end it now, okay?" you said reassuringly and he immidiately hung up from the call.

"i'm so, so sorry, baby... have i done too much? do you want to-"

"soobin, respectfully, shut the fuck up and fuck me already." you interrupted him and moved your hips, making him groan.

"shit, so you seriously liked all of this?" he asked with a soft chuckle.

soon you were both laying on his bed, him on top of you, his cock already inside. your chest pressed into the mattress and your back arched, a little bit painfully. you didn't minded it, because you felt soobin going in and out of you, leaving you with your mouth wide open.

"yeah, just like that, you're doing so good for me... and earlier you took it all so well... you really liked being heard, didn't you? fuck, i love you so much..." he continued whispering sweet nothings into your ear, getting you closer and closer to the edge.

you didn't left him in silence, also mumbling a lot of "i love you"'s every few seconds. your legs felt so weird, you were sure that if soobin stopped holding you, you would fall completely to the mattress.

soon the wave of pleasure finally hit you, making your legs shake more than they already were. you let out a loud moan, probably too loud, but both of you felt too good to care. soobin continued thrusting into you, still chasing his release.

"so pretty..." he whispered before he pulled out and started stroking himself, soon cumming on your lower back and laying right next to you.

you took his hand in yours and smiled softly at him. you felt tired, but not too tired to annoy him a little bit. "i love you... but i'm not cockwarming you ever again."

———————————

a/n: I'M SORRY, BUT I JUST NEEDED TO WRITE THIS, IT WAS IN MY MIND FOR TOO LONG... but yeah, here's my debut on tumblr lmaoo

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 6

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: six

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

yourusername: a little photo dump

yourbestiesusername: i'm really proud of that first pic i took of you, i'm coming for your career

↳ yourusername: oi photography's my thing, go find another career

lucybronze: this is cute. you are really beautiful! ❤️

↳ yourusername: OMG NO WAY TYSM!! you're amazing ilysm!!

↳ lucybronze: thank you! @ yourusername

usera omg. the REAL lucy bronze commented on your post!!

↳ yourusername i am not okay rn

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the imposter

YOU GUYS

GUESS WHAT OMG

the REAL karate kid

what happened?

lotte

is everything alright?

the imposter

NO EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY

neev

you're kinda scaring me now

the imposter

i know i'm not a woso fan yet

bcuz i'm still incredibly uncultured

and literally don't know anyone yet

elton

yeah we know

the imposter

BUT LUCY BRONZE COMMENTED ON MY POST

I AM SCREAMING

the REAL karate kid

WHAT

neev

WOAH WOAH

hold on

stairway

that old grandma can actually use insta??

rusty metal

OI

that is so rude and offensive!

to that old grandma ....

the REAL karate kid

SHUT UP

rusty metal

the disrespect children have nowadays

unbelievable

well i'm glad she made your day y/n <3

the imposter

thank you!!!

i'm gonna go thrive in my happiness for the

rest of my life for a celebrity noticing me

peace out

lotte

well i'm glad she's happy

willybum

i need to up my game now

the REAL karate kid

me too

stairway

y'all are such simps

neev

says one of the simps herself

stairway

shut up niamh

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

brightness

you know

i just remembered that y/n is still in here

and we don't know like anything about her

at all

door knob

oh yeah

we only know her name

the imposter

i literally only kinda know your names

and that is it

neev

she got a point there

the imposter

honestly i don't get why i'm even still in this chat

not that i'm complaining

stairway

you've been fun to talk to these past few weeks

unlike most of the people on this group chat

who simply decide to ignore their notifications

elton

yeah fr

i didn't feel the need to make a new chat tbh

the imposter

i'm honoured?

elton

you should be

the imposter

uh okay ...

well

i'm 22

i'm a pro photographer and media editor/manager

and uhh i live in london?

idk what else to say tbh

stairway

photography's so cool!

the imposter

thank you!

earpsy

is toone being 10x more annoying

because i'm sick or?

the REAL karate kid

nah she's just that annoying

elton

now that is just rude

willybum

she has an encylcopedia on

how to be annoying

elton

STOP SAYING THAT WORD

wait

guys

neev

oh no

willybum

today on stupid stuff toone is going to say!

elton

oi! i'm not stupid!

the REAL karate kid

you literally thought germany started with j

elton

I WAS UNDER PRESSURE OKAY

anyway as i was about to say

isn't it crazy to think that the money you have

has probably been or could be in like

a stripper's bra or underwear at some point

the REAL karate kid

why does your brain function this way 😭

stairway

wait a sec-

....

she has a point

neev

STOP 😭

that is ALL what i'm gonna think about now

the imposter

never touching cash again that's for sure 😭

willybum

donating all my cash to the trash now

lotte

oh my days

why

just why

meado

WHAT DID I JUST READ 😭😭

part seven here

[ninyard]

last but most certainly not least. pt 3 of the bonus chapters (TKM)

Aaron's chapter (once again going to be putting like. the whole thing here.)

One of these days Aaron would love to know what about that mouthy liar had people bending over backwards for him [...] He could waste his time being angry, or he could go the tried-and-true Minyard route of infuriating everyone else around him.

i love how much he despises neil fr. and the Minyard route???? i love that

"Hey, Bee," Aaron said.

why did this like. give me such nathaniel neil vibes. hes so cunty for this im obsessed

Andrew looked relaxed where he was tucked into the corner of the couch, one knee hugged loosely to his chest, but Aaron wasn't fooled. They were twins: there was too much of them in each other despite all the years they'd spent apart.

one) andrew is so cosy <333 two) ouch. THERE WAS TOO MUCH OF THEM IN EACH OTHER DESPITE ALL THE YEARS THEY'D SPENT APART????? literally screaming into a pillow at this one

"Did you know Andrew's fucking Neil?" [...] Andrew cut in with a flat, "I'm not." Andrew wouldn't waste his breath lying when Aaron was right here to argue with him, but Aaron knew his accusation wasn't far off the mark. [...] That Andrew hadn't sealed the deal yet was the least important detail, but Aaron was willing to be an ass about it.

I love that andrew is banking on the technicality that like. no he's not. they haven't. and aaron saying andrew hadn't "sealed the deal" has me SCREAMING. thats so funny

"Go slash some tires, or whatever it is you do for fun."

HES SO FUNNYYY

"You made him a priority," Aaron said. "[...] but for the record, I think he's an insufferable asshole. [...] Exy this, Exy that, get a fucking hobby. Oh, but i guess he did?" He sent a pointed look at Andrew.

GET A FUCKING HOBBY. aaron minyard i'd die for you.

"You know, I asked him about you. I asked him if he was taking advantage of you. He tried to punch me out." "You bring out that urge in people," Andrew said.

i'm so glad that we know now that andrew knows about this interaction. like i wonder how he felt hearing that.

"Betsy and I were talking about Monday." [...] Andrew hadn't called her "Betsy" in over a year. He'd never seen Andrew so hard on a back foot, and it was as terrifying as it was thrilling. [...] Andrew didn't want to talk about Neil with Dobson because once he broached that subject he either had to lie to all of them or admit Neil was more important that he wanted him to be.

throwing up, literally no words just throwing up

"I like Neil's promise ring, by the way."

AARONNNNN. HIS PROMISE RING. PLEASE. and also the "Matching set, very cute." why is he so funny

Andrew's smile was all ice, and he wielded honesty like a knife. "They're not decorative, you ignorant little shit. Someone like you wouldn't understand the importance of hiding scars." [...] Aaron would have to figure it out later, but not now. Andrew was trying to pull him off track and [...] he'd never find his way back if he followed it to whatever ugly truth Andrew was hiding. He forced Andrew words aside to haunt him later

this just made me wonder if there's every going to be a moment where aaron figures out what this means. like. my stomach feels sick thinking about it just him having this moment where it clicks and makes sense and he realises what andrew's hiding and will they ever be able to have that conversation?????

"It bother you your pet project is queer?"

AARON

"I'm not always okay with what he is, but these days it's less that he's gay it's that he's [...] weaponized it. It took him so long to come to terms with it that now he lashes out first, pushing as hard as he can to figure out who's safe and who isn't."

nicky baby :(( why does this make me so sad

"I don't care that you're gay, and I don't care that you picked the literal most irritating person on the planet to fall for. I care that you're being a hypocrite."

Aaron Minyard #1 neil josten hater.

Andrew was picking idly at his jeans: an agitated tic that had mostly disappeared once his medicine was out of his system. [...] Maybe he needed a few more moments to come to terms with their easy acceptance. [...] Finding out how important he was to Andrew was an ongoing, eye-opening experience. Finding out just how important Dobson was, that Andrew wouldn't risk her unfavourable opinion by telling her the truth about his sexuality, was equally fascinating. [...] She truly mattered to Andrew when so few people did anymore.

once again andrew :((( my boy :((( why am i crying

"I love Katelyn. I love her more than anything. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, but I am trying so goddamned hard to wait until graduation because you asked me to. So why aren't you doing the same?" "You have abysmal taste in girls," Andrew told him.

KATEAARON YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS TO MEEE

"Neurosurgeon, right?" [...] He and [his mother] had been watching a medical drama with dinner while Andrew hovered silent and distant in the doorway, and Aaron had foolishly said, I want to do that. His mother laughed him out of the room for daring to think he could make anything of himself."

one) andrew talking about aaron to bee two) andrew being the only person who remembered or knew he wanted to be a neurosurgeon three) his mom laughing at him :(( for daring the think he could make anything of himself???? what the fuck and also andrew signing to the team for aaron's sake to get him through college to follow his dreams??? sobbing

"I'm trying, okay? I'm trying. Years too late, I know, but you refused me first. I begged you to come home with me. You can't blame me for not trusting you." "I am capable of multitasking," Andrew said. Aaron heard what he didn't say: I blame us both.

SDHFGAOLFGAJRDHGJDF

"She's just another tiny skirt here to use him up and distract him from what he wants."

ANDREW

"My hands are full with too many idiots," Andrew said. "When she shows her true colors, I will not have the energy to put him together again."

one) liar. i know you'd go to the ends of the earth again and again and again for him. two) TOO MANY IDIOTS

"You can't be brothers while you are each other's jailors."

:D screaming

"Says the man dating a mafioso." "I'm not dating him," Andrew said, with a hint of impatience. Aaron saw right through him, and it was enough to make him smile as he turned his gaze out the window. "Liar."

sobbing. they love each other so much and Andrew is such a liar and i can't deal with them. they kill me

[isa-ghost]

amfmn missa.. p please.. please mother … feed us

I'M BEING ENABLED PPOVERHEAT

He's an actual grim reaper. That's where he's disappeared to so often in canon, reaper duties. It's a very demanding job, you know.

Doesn't stop him from feeling terrible about being gone so often though. He misses his husband and kids and hates how often he's out of the loop :(

Fr though Phil and the kids make him so so happy after spending countless hours working such a sad job. It's also partially why he sings and makes art. That brand of fun is catharsis for the soul.

He has all his canon weapons but I ALSO gave him a reaper deathscythe. And boy is he gonna use it. Fucking AWOOGA MissaSinfonia when he's angry.

Btw as a reaper he can FEEL souls. He can see their power, their condition, feel the surface level emotions and personality of its owner. This will come in handy later in the fic. ;)

As per the post I made asking for Missa appreciation so I can characterize him properly: He's undyingly loyal, he fights hard and loves even harder, he's protective, silly, and goddamn can he flirt.

All his wet cat behavior is a result of getting too overwhelmed by The Horrors. He's seen A Lot as a reaper. But somehow Quesadilla Island and all its... Everything. Always manage to show him a new brand of What The Fuck he's never even imagined before. Hence all his screaming and weeping when he's caught up on what he's missed. Like how tf else is he supposed to react??

Somewhat attached to that, he and Phil rlly were a match made in Federation Heaven bc they both have issues with self-doubt despite being insanely skilled and sharp-witted. Missa is better abt it than Phil though. His only acts up when he messes up a lot or just. Doesn't have a clue how to handle a situation where it's dire that he does. It's more of an insecurity about being unprepared and failing his loved ones than it is a doubt he has skill. He KNOWS he does, he hates when it's not enough. That's how he differs from Phil, who thinks he has none at all.

Btw when you fuck with the people he's protective over, he gets PISSED. We're getting a LOT of pissed off Missa in AMFMN <3 Ofc there'll be a lot of reaper tears too, his husband is suffering and there's little he can do about it. :( But ohohoho when the sad turns into rage. BARK WOOF. Eventually he decides EK is catching these hands and scythe.

He also shakes hands with his husband on being a self-sacrificing little shit. And. Yeah this is gonna happen later in the fic. (He's not dying dw dw)

You have no idea how excited I am that I basically get to build his dynamics with Fit, Etoiles, and Bagi from scratch. I'm so hyped. People are welcome to reply with this with any crumbs we have of their dynamics in canon but afaik they've rarely interacted outside of very minor moments, so AMFMN will largely be a sandbox for me to establish what I THINK they'd be like. Which in my fic plan so far, is largely taking each character's personality and applying how I think they'd react to a situation, and how that would look when two of them are interacting in that situation. Ex: at one point Etoiles has to comfort Missa bc he's just having a ROUGH time with this saving Phil stuff. But Etoiles is NOT a comfort guy. So he does his Etoiles thing: hearing Missa out while also cracking his usual brand of jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

I also have a plot point planned with him and Bagi when shit is hitting the fan the hardest and OUUGHHH. That self-sacrificing shit am I right.

God I'm being so mean to him specifically in AMFMN though. Ender King is a sack of shit, he knows exactly who to harass most using Phil's body >:/

See in my AMFMN Fitza headcanons, I said they're each other's confidants. Which IS true. However, no one in the fic gets the honor of Phil FINALLY communicating with someone about his issues other than his husband. Missa is the person he caves and confesses things to. Missa gets the HC Deity lore and what's been happening to him lately. This is actually what Chapter 3 is :D

Also I am so sorry but I'm sliding a Missa Romantic Love Confession attempt into the fic and it gets interrupted by The Horrors. But yeah Missa is romantically in love with Phil, he just respects that Phil sees things platonically. He still wants to communicate his feelings though.

[admrlthundrbolt]

You Spin Me Round (Billy x Chubby Reader x Stu)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What happens when Billy and Stu realize that they've both had their eyes on Randy's sweet little twin?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guy, I'm back at it. I've wanted to write something for this murderous duo for a while now. Hope you enjoy the mischief.

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

Randy had always made it clear that his twin sister was off limits. Claiming that she was to sweet and pure for anyone to be with. And while he wasn’t wrong, that didn't stop Billy and Stu from fantasizing about her. She was so innocent and happy. The first person to offer you help, no matter the situation.

When Stu started failing Spanish you jumped to help him, even though you had chose to take French. Billy's mother leaving was the hardest thing he had ever been through, but there you were. On his doorstep the same night it happened, bag full of ice cream and movies. You held him while he cried himself to sleep that night. When he woke up the next morning, you were splayed across his chest. Your soft body wrapped up in his, he could have died happy in that moment.

Your gentle consideration was always there for them. That was what brought them to their current revelation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stu paced in the front den of his house. “I can’t believe that bitch would pull something like this.” Flopping onto the couch, he threw his head back and screamed.

Facing his friend, Billy frowned. Picking up the pillow between them, he shoved it into the other boy's face. “Could you stop that. It doesn't matter anyways, you said you didn't even like her.”

Yanking the pillow away, he glared at Billy. “That's not the point. I mean why would Casey leave me for that meathead Steve?“ He was about to go into another rant, until a knock came from the front door. He sent him a questioning look, then got up to see who it was.

Running a hand through his hair Billy let out a heavy sigh. When Stu didn’t return, he leaned over the back of the couch. Only to scramble out of his seat and to the door.

There you were, a sweet smile gracing your face. He tried not to get angry at the sight of Stu hugging you. He could feel the familiar ball of jealousy forming in his chest. As you pulled apart he noticed you were holding a large cloth bag. Looking away from his friend, you finally saw him.

With a small jump, your eyes went wide, then you lightly smack Stu's arm. “Why didn't you tell me Billy was here. I just about left my skin.” Even with your chiding words your words never took on a harsh tone. Your smile returned as you gave him a hug too.

“Sorry kitten, when you show up I forget about anything else.” Stu said, as he casually leaned against the now closed door.

Your round cheeks flushed at his flirting, though this wasn’t a new habit. But it was one that Billy had a growing animosity towards. How the other boy could nonchalantly hang off of you or throw compliments your way. It rubbed him the wrong way.

Grabbing the bag from your hands, he opened it. Where he saw a similar care package to the one you brought over to his house, ice cream and movies. It didn’t surprise him. Of course you’d come to Stu's aid after a break up. Could he expect anything different from an angel? “This your go to?”

With a shrug, you took the bag back, and headed to the kitchen. “I can’t think of anyone's mood that wouldn't be improved by ice cream and movies. Although pizza is always a good back up.“ You struggled to reach the bowls, what with them being on the top shelf. Just as your thoughts cursed Stu's tall lineage, you felt warmth on your back.

Stu was pressed against you, not yet wanting to admit how perfectly your plush body fit his own. The feeling of your backside huddled to his front was heaven. He would savor this moment for a bit longer, if he didn't feel he burn from Billy's glare. “Let me get that for you shorty.”

Turning around you looked up at him. You had known he was tall,but from this distance. It made you realize how much of a difference there was between the two of you. “Well we can't all have giant dna, now can we.”

Billy once again watched the casual display of affection. Deciding that it might be time to have a private discussion with Stu.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It seems like we share a common interest.” He thought it would be a simple way to start the conversation. But things were rarely easy to explain to Stu.

“No duh, we did kill Sidney's mom.“

The thought to punch his friend was a hard one to resist. “Not that. I meant (Y/N). We obviously both share feelings for her.”

A confused look swept across Stu's face. “Really, I didn’t think she'd be your type.”

“I thought the same thing about you, but it seems we were both wrong. So we need to decide were to go from here.“

He sunk lower into the couch as he pepared his answer. It was in this moment, among many others, that he was thankful his parents were rarely home. “What if we shared her.”

Billy was surprised at how much the idea was reasonable in his mind. He had thought this may end with him betraying Stu and stealing you away. With this option though, he could get you and keep his accomplice under thumb. This could work, under a few conditions.

So they spent the rest of the night discussing a way to continue killing. While also keeping the object of their desires safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why do you need to go to this party so badly. People are dying.” You knew your twin was obsessed with Sydney, but risking his life wasn't worth it.

He looked over at you with an annoyed squint. “It’s not just any party, it's a Stu party. You should know better than anyone what that means, unsupervised fun. I don’t understand why you wouldn't go.”

Rolling your eyes at his ignorance, even after all the horror movies. “They already suspect that a student is to blame. Why go to a house filled with potential murderers.”

Your logic was sound, but nothing was going to stop Randy from being there. If Sidney happened to show up, well that was a plus. First though, he had to reassure you that he would be fine. He didn't want to endure the wrath of your silent treatment again. “Listen, it’s at Stu's. We’ve been friends with him forever, I trust him. Could you ever picture that goofball having a mean bone in his body?”

You thought it over and he was right. You really couldn't imagine that Stu, let alone anyone in your friend group, would ever pull anything like this. You held your hands up in surrender. “Ok, I give. But you better check in with me.” You poked a finger into his chest. “Or I will come over there and drag you home. No matter who might see.“

Nodding, he remembered how easy it was to forget how fierce you could be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew you should have never let Randy go to that party. Your mind was buzzing with all the horrible possibilities, as you sped over to Stu's house. Though the only recurring hope was that all your friends were ok. If someone would just picked up the stupid phone!

Skidding in frontbof the house, you barely missed the mailbox. Only taking the time to throw it into park, you rushed towards the house. Before you could put your hand on the knob, the door was yanked open. There stood Billy, supporting a hunched over Stu, both of them smeared with blood.

“Thank God your here. Sid's dad is going insane. We’ve got to get out of here.” Billy all but roared. He quickly shut the door before you could glance in. If you saw the carnage inside, it would be much more difficult to keep you in their side.

You shook your head. “I can’t leave without Randy.”

His hand gripped your arm harshly. “We’re it (Y/N), everyone else is dead.” He shifted his hold on Stu and thought for a swift way out. While he thought everyone, but Sidney's dad was dead, he couldn't be a hundred percent. Stu groaned and gripped his stab wound. “If we don’t hurry Stu is next.”

Your eyes widened, noticing how hurt your friend was. “Ok, the car is only in park.”

You all raced for the vehicle. You went to grab the drivers handle, only for Billy to call out for you. “I need you with him in the back. You’re the only one with first aid training.”

You want to remind him it was only from a summer job at the local public pool. But desperate times called for desperate measures. With his help you slid into the backseat with Stu. Applying even pressure on his wound, you could feel frustrated tears building in your eyes. How could you be so stupid! People you loved were dead and one of your only remaing friend could very well be dying in your arms.

As you blamed yourself for everything that was happening, Billy was celebrating. You were finally their’s. Stu was optional at this point, if he made it to a hospital, then they would get him help. No what really mattered was that Woodsboro was in the rearview mirror. Nothing could stop them now.

[memberment]

Good evening

Guys I just got home from work and proofread everything I needed to including this next Dandelion chapter and I'm trying so hard not to just fucking SOB over it.

I hate it here I want out LMFAOOOOOOO THIS IS SO SAD WHY DID I WRITE THIS FR

10:59 update......

I'm thinking about an absolutely diabolical twist for the Trin series(it doesn't actually change the story in any way, if anything it actually makes it make so much more sense). Like, I've been ruminating on it since last night but idk if it's gonna throw people off. But at the same time like part twos and threes never do as good anyways so do I really even care?? Like, I'm just out here telling stories in fanfic font bc I would rather throw myself in the street than make OCs and not share my fun little stories.

I think I may commit to it.

I don't wanna say it on here though bc it's one of those plot twists you get will not forget even though part three is like FOREVER out.

The more I think about it the more I wanna do it. Someone tell me I should do it.

Oh my god I am shutting up and finishing reading Dandelion, y'all will hear my virtual screams in approximately one and a half business hours.

(11:43) I'm actually fucking sobbing and I didn't even start the last few chapters. Like, I'm actually crying over this. It's not funny.

(12:00) Never by mag lo coming on while I'm finishing up reading this is not funny. I'm devastated. I hope you all hate me after this oh my god I feel like I just ruined my own life. WHY IS IT SO MUCH WORSE AFTER BEING DONE WITH THIS FIC FOR ALMOST TWO MONTHS. Jesus Christ. Yeah. No more angst from me for a long while. I'm banned.

(12:20) Me skimming through tags on fics debating if I want to pick up something new. Everything being totally normal. Suh happy. Trying not to stew in my own misery. And then I see such a vile tag my stomach twists and now I'm just like okay I'll go fuck myself I guess I'll go write or do my homework. I'm sorry, I adore ao3 and I'm never gonna be a hater, BUT SOME PEOPLE ARE WILD. LIKE I AM TALKING SO BAD I'M ACTUALLY CONSIDERING DOING MY HOMEWORK OVER THAT. LIKE I ACTUALLY JUST WIPED THE TEARS OFF MY FACE AND GOT OVER HOW SAD I WAS BECAUSE OF HOW GENUINELY SHOCKED I WAS. Like wow oh wow.

Anyways. Updates here if there's gonna be any. Also Dandelions up if anyones reading this LMAO

It's 1:40 in the morning and the beginning of Morning Glory is making me fucking unwell. I was not joking when I made that joke about like ten dreaded weeks of angst, Jesus Christ.

(2:12) This is my second time posting this exact part. Like I know I've posted this exact part. But I seriously love Christophe and all of his dialogue with my whole heart.

(4:31) I do not recall making Dova this tragic and I'm literally about to sob over him. LIKE WHY???? WHY DID I DO THAT??? WHY ARE HIS LITTLE SUBTLE BITS OF STORYLINE SO ACTUALLY PAINFUL AS THE STORY GOES ON????? (I am allergic to happiness I am my own canon event at this point)

(4:48) THE ABSOLUTE DEVASTATION THAT COMES WITH WANTING MORE STORY BUT IT SIMPLY NOT EXISTING BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO WRITE IT IS DEVASTATING.

(5:02) Welp. I'm ruined and am now compelled by god to start working on Morning Glory again. We're at 73k rn. And only two chapters that aren't the prologue are under 4k. That's fucking terrifying. Like I have 17 minus the prologue rn. WE ARE LITERALLY THREE CHAPTERS AWAY FROM THE FOURTH OF JULY. THERE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ANOTHER 16/17 OF SUMMER ALONE. AND THERE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE AT LEAST ANOTHER 14 AFTER THAT. LIKE THE 14 ARE THE PLANNED SPECIFIC EVENT CHAPTERS. BRUH. WHY DID I DO THIS????

regret.

regret is all I feel.

but I will push through.

(7:38) before I go to bed I will just say I am at 75.3k. I had no idea how I would even get close to 4k on a birthday chapter where the group effectively decided to just stay home and hang out. But now there is like 1.5k of them playing muffin time. It's wild. I love it. GOOD NIGHT.

[epictay]

teirlist of all the ii cast and episodes

all the characters, now imma try and keep this very brief but tissues is my favourite character no I'm not kidding I love this man so much yes I voted for him in 2021 yes I screamed and cried at his death no I won't say why I love him so much that's lore for later, the characters that are just like me fr fr should just tell you who i am as a person fan is literally just me im autistic and brain has said that he is at this point hell I have a replie from him years ago that says so, mephone 4... that's personal but his protrale really makes me think, apple is me fr fr to because I'm awful at spelling, same reason I like fan is the same for lightbulb and the floor, goo is just me all the time, bot is just me so badly, the characters I adore I still love these guys they just aren't me sadly rip 4s I cried when he appearing in the finally of season 3, no I'm still not over his death ii crew bring him back please I'm on my hands and nees the rest are self explanatory I've never really liked marshmallow she's fine I don't like oj no I'm not explaining why he knows what he did... never liked cabby and fuck silver spoon I hate him so much he gets his own teir because no words can describe how much i hate him when he appeared in episodec 17 I screamed fuck em

NOW here me out, some of seaosn 1 is ok in my books the first half is awful unwatchable for frame of reference I first watched ii at 3am 4 years ago, would not recommend it is a trip in a half episode 12 is a weird favourite of mine.. don't ask why same with 14 now season 2 there is no questioning what's the best like you would have to be insane to not put anything after 10 high, episode 8 is a personal favourite it makes me laugh so hard it's the funniest to me and it always will, episode 11 will never be topped in my opinion it is legendary and that elimation, its just chefs kiss like they can never top it again season 3, most of the episodes I hate have silver as the main focus, may I say more I've made my views on him very clear, episode 3 is my absolute favourite it's so funny and yall are sleeping on it it's the funniest thing ever made for ii anyways for the recorder these are my opinions and ye (: goodnight

[sagesilentfire]

another toffee analysis by sage h silentfire

I've been sitting on this analysis for a while, and I was going to touch on it briefly in a project I'm working on, but a talk with my therapist allowed me to put it into words and in greater detail than before. So here it is:

Why exactly do I like Toffee so much? It's a genuine question. He's the target of many different questionable writing choices, barely focused on, and forgotten within seconds of his death. We know so little about him he's basically a generic doomsday villain. The fandom is worse to him: popular interpretations paint him as cruel, arrogant, spiteful, and even, surprisingly enough, stupid. The word "sociopath" gets thrown around a lot, which, ableist. He's emotionless. He has no empathy. He's unable to connect with people. While liking villains is somewhat acceptable nowadays, it's always with the expectation that you like them because they're evil, not for any deeper reason. And with Toffee, because he's so poorly written, that should be the reason you like him. Because he's evil, and that's awesome.

But that's not why I like Toffee.

See, I am autistic, and that's never going away. I get more stereotypically autistic by the year, as I grow and become more independent, and my newfound independence clashes with my family and the society I live in. I'm weird, I'm moderately smart, I'm quirky. But more critically, I have no close friends because I literally don't know how to make and maintain friendships. I feel painfully aware of the potential emotions of everyone around me, but I don't know how to act on that awareness and communicate effectively with people, leading me to assume the worst. I have had meltdowns in crowded spaces that went completely unnoticed because I was "too subtle". I even worry that I'll die without any of the stories I want to tell – without my story – being told, because no one wanted to learn it.

Sound familiar?

So yes, I like Toffee. Even think he's a halfway decent person morality-wise, not just a villain. He expresses emotions weirdly, but he does express emotions. He is staunchly not willing to sacrifice his plans for others, but he still takes time to be nice to other people regardless. He didn't kill Moon and Marco when he could have, even though they were trying to kill him. He is empathetic enough to manipulate people and smart enough to take control of any situation, and he does it while not expressing emotions in ways others would expect. He's so much like my dream self fr.

And he dies the unquestioned villain, never getting the chance to tell his side of the story. The only perspective that we do get is filtered through the lens of his murderers. 

"But Sage!" you might be saying. "What about Comet?!"

Well. I do count Comet's death as one of the questionable choices the writers made (it makes very little sense with Toffee's character, wouldn't he manipulate her into a better deal? It feels a little like the writers were like "Oh shoot, we haven't made Toffee evil enough to 'deserve' his graphic death, let's... uh, let's make him kill Moon's mother for no reason!"), but I can understand why Toffee did it, again through an autistic lens.

See, autistic people like me aren't taken seriously. Not about our areas of knowledge, not about our views and beliefs, and especially not about matters of our physical and mental health. We're treated like weird baby dolls that are expected not to have meltdowns or criticize their "superiors". Or we're embarrassments, time bombs just waiting to go off and mortify whoever we're with. Growing up, I was never able to be right, or even have a point. Oh, there were minor disagreements my guardians let me "win" and then would weaponize during the more serious arguments, but whenever we got into screaming matches, I was always the one in the wrong. We didn't even apologize or talk it out after arguments; it was always expected that I would realize I was wrong eventually and it was swept under the rug with all the other skeletons of long-dead arguments and left to simmer into resentment. 

But there was one surefire way to make a dent, one I discovered recently and that has actually saved my life.

In the summer of 2022, I was put on a new medication. Long story short, I did not sleep for two weeks. I was in shambles, and I needed my mother to raise hell from me, because she would not let me do it myself – my psychiatry goes through my guardians, and I didn't even have the psychiatrist's number at the time. But she wouldn't do anything. The psychiatrist thought things would level out eventually, and my mother thought what the psychiatrist thought, nevermind that I was actively getting worse and my sleeping pills were getting less effective by the day. I begged her to raise hell like I knew she could, and she sent a mild phone call gently suggesting that things still weren't ideal. I could feel myself slipping away as everyone who was ostensibly taking care of me sat and twiddled their thumbs.

So I got personal. I deliberately started a big blowout. I convinced her that things weren't going well, and this little game of chicken with my health wouldn't result in the perfect, uncritical, angelic autistic daughter she so desperately wanted. I got into a screaming match, I listed everything she had ever done wrong, and I told her to shut up and stop spewing weak justifications on how my pain wasn't her fault, actually. I hit her where it hurts. I hurt her back. I hurt her.

And it worked. Hurting her made her take me seriously and I was back on my old meds before sunset. I slept well that night. And I will never regret it. 

So maybe Toffee's plan to overthrow his colonizers with the death of Comet didn't end in monster victory. But if it weren't for the eleventh-hour dark magic, it would have. And Toffee's people were oppressed and the victims of genocide for ages. They were the small band of rebels fighting an evil colonizing empire. They were ideologically in the right. They kicked and clawed and bit until they found something to hurt, and then they didn't hesitate. Because no one took them seriously, and they still wouldn't have taken them seriously unless they did something damaging. Comet sure didn't; her chapter is a continually escalating series of microaggressions. Moon didn't; she doesn't seem to care about the conflict at all before Comet's death. Who else would take him seriously? Mina? The High Commission? Glossaryck?

So while I don't think he was totally in character in killing Comet, I do understand more than others why he might have done it. 

Because Toffee is like me, for better or for worse. And he could have been great for me and people like me. But he wasn't. He was assumed to be evil and left to die immediately. Because people like me are always the bad guys.

In short,

Exhibits:

Toffee's emotions, courtesy @butterflyeffectiveless:

Comet's continually escalating microaggressions:

Additional source for Toffee being autistic:

because i'm autistic and i like him

the end.

[sunshinepixels]

EVERYTHING WRONG WITH THE TEEN WOLF MOVIE

bc I hate it more than I've ever hated anything in my life 😭

Allison is back from the dead and somehow stays alive by the end of the movie as if that's not unnatural af !!! Like she's a human? how is that a thing? why did they do this? I love Allison, I really do but her coming back to life and not being laid back to rest by the end of the movie was so psycho and bizarre. Idk why they made that choice but I hated it

Derek apparently had a child 15 years ago and Allison died 15 years ago so somehow he had a child in season 3? When? When would he have time to do that? He was literally with Jennifer that season 🤨 so when did he make this kid who he seemed to have always been in the life of ? the math isn't mathing. ik teen wolf math sometimes doesn't make sense but I excused it bc I like the show but since I hate this fucking movie I will not excuse it. Jeff Davis tell me how the fuck Derek somehow had a kid in season 3!?

Who is the mother of Derek's child? (We all know that Stiles is the other parent) but fr why is she not mentioned at fucking all??? like it felt so unnatural, like they were specifically talking around it or some shit. I swear Eli never even says the word mom once!! how? why do they act like she doesn't exist? at this point I'm gonna assume Derek made this child asexually through budding or some shit cus wtf

IK Dylan O didn't want to be in the movie but they didn't have to do everything in their power to pretend Stiles didn't exist. The only references to him were the Jeep and Lydia's dumb dream. It made it seem like Stiles doesn't keep up with them anymore and that they don't keep up with him, and that's including his fucking dad. It's so unnatural and ew. I'm also very sad that Kira wasn't here but ik why Arden didn't want to do it. Fuck Jeff tbh. Kira was barely mentioned also, I don't think they EVER said anything about her at all. It's giving Jeff is bitter or smth.

This movie dragged so bad, it was boring as shit and I struggled to get to the 2 hour mark. It was actually painful for me to watch . I wanted to skip through every scene basically, trying to get to SOMETHING interesting, but it was rare that anything like that was going on

Some of the style choices were weird. The clothes they had Deaton in weren't right, it didn't feel like something he'd wear at all. Also so weird to see Chris in a turtleneck, idk if he's worn one before but it looked weird. Peter ate though, I have to give them that.

WHY WOULD MASON BE A FUCKING COP? What about him screams cop? 😐 He should be working with Melissa at the hospital or doing LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE.

Parrish and Malia 😐 disgusting. He knew her as a teen!!! like hello?? that's weird af! I already hated him and Lydia, bc why is he going after a freshly turned 18 y/o and I was hoping that the writers would know better by now then to do this weird shit but obviously they didn't

What exactly was Harris back for? He barely explained what happened to him or what he knew? It was dumb. If they left him out, I don't think it would've impacted the movie or what we know about Harris at all. Also, I don't remember if they explained but why was he alive anyway?

Abolish Eichen House

Some of the sets were very ugg and didn't feel like teen wolf at all

Peter sniffing the ground like a dog ☠️☠️☠️ SO UGLY 😭 but so hilarious, best scene hands down

Curse count: 9 Shits and 2 Motherfuckers (both from Chris which is funny asf)

The movie was not fun, it didn't have the fun vibes of the original show, all the jokes were meh and didn't live up to the source material.

who tf is Eli's mom 😐 I'm serious

why did former best friends Mason and Liam barely say one word to each other 😐😐😐😐 idc if they had no time, they should've been hugging and crying in the background or some shit

Why did they decide to make Derek burn???? LIKE HUH??? That was sick ! The worse possible death they could've given him! Like that's TRAUMATIC!!! Like were we meant to think this was poetic or smth?? cus I don't. I just think it's sick and weird. Not only that but they made him leave his kid. at this point why'd they even give him a kid just to kill him off. it also kind of felt like they exchanged a dead person for an alive person

the way Liam and Hikari pronounced I love you in Japanese was so bad. im not a language expert but that didn't sound right at all. truly horrendous, get a language coach on set or smth cus that ain't it

them having Allison come back and go back to dating Scott felt very character regressiony for him. like ik he loved allison but so what? you don't need to always end up with your first love. he literally was able to move past her death and get in other relationships. it didn't feel like he was holding a torch for her, it felt like he was able to get past it but now it doesn't. idk it's weird

seeing clips from the tv show made me wanna take the shit off my screen and put on the real show

and lastly this movie didn't need to exist and is not canon in my head

[honeylikesyanderes]

Hi! I read through everything about your boyos so I’ll have a few asks coming through if that’s ok? I’ll use 🍒 so ya know it’s me (if that’s alright!)

My first is what if we just straight up quit on Krama, like the dream stuff was too weird and we had a bad feeling so we decided to dip.

ALSOOOOO, him not liking a volatile darling when she’s angry 👀👀. What happens if he tries to bring her back and she reacts as such?

(Sorry, I crave angst and I wanna know if you’re willing to indulge me. If not, thank you for the characters and have a lovely rest of your night/day!)

hi anon! welcome to the family 🍒! i'm so glad to have you on board!

and yes i will indulge your angst ;)

(i'll use she/her pronouns bc it was in the ask)

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

honestly, i feel like dipping on karma would be expected

so he'd have plans in place to prevent that

such as threatening your job or your family etc etc

and if darling really doesn't give a fuck and still dips-

karma is not above kidnapping her.

like he'd have her kidnapped in the most sophisticated way

and honestly you'd be gone into thin air.

obviously, missing persons cases would be filed by your family

and your boss too (*cough* karma *cough*)

but its honestly just for show

cause karma will ensure that this becomes one of the many cold cases the world has seen

(if he's feeling a bit dramatic, he might push (read: pay) for a documentary to be made ab your disappearance)

bottom line: there's no escaping.

''i lost you once, and i'm never gonna lose you again love.''

okay back to the kidnapping:

naturally, i dont think anyone would take well to being randomly kidnapped

and tbh, you kinda knew it was karma behind it

so darling was rightfully seething when she was 'delivered' to him

immediately the blindfold is taken off, she's screaming and yelling to the point of tears

you're calling him crazy, delusional, a psycho, every name in the book really

and if there's one thing about karma, he can't stand noise.

after 5 minutes of darling's loud, angry rantings; (and karma's silence)

a loud, commanding ''shut up'' echoes through the room.

and it literally shuts you up lol

''all i wanted to do was take care of you and love you. to take you away from your hard, mediocre and unsatisfactory life. to have your heart. to give you mine. but if you hate me that much and you think my love for you is that disgusting, then you can leave.''

darling is speechless fr

karma's lowkey trying to hold it together but you can kinda see the tears welling up in his eyes

he literally marches to the door and opens it

''leave.''

you're hesitant.

''k-karma...''

then he snaps.

''i said leave. get out of my fucking house (y/n). you can go back to your life and pretend this never happened."

you can see on his face that there's no room for argument-

why would you even want to argue anyway? you're the one who wanted to be left alone.

so you leave and go back to your life

and your 9-5 job at the Elios Group

back to your default y/n lifestyle.

all your clothing that disappeared are dropped off at your doorstep

no more random surprise gifts

no more security hovering behind you in your day to day

no more seeing karma at work

no more love letters

no more random calls, texts, trips-

no more karma.

just silence

and deep down it upsets you.

but what are you so sad for (y/n)?

isnt this what you asked for?

(hi hi!! i hope this was good? i really wanted to capture how sensitive karma can be when it comes to his darling! hope you enjoyed! xx)

[sorcerous-caress]

Semi-related to the bob debacle I really hate pepole that label the companions as ayersexual/tavsexual they are all queer individuals! That shouldn’t be erased and ignored but it especially egregiously for poor Bob who canonically has male love interest.

Especially when it's people who never paid attention to his dialogue or done his romance who claim that bobtarion isn't queer with a clear preference for men.

People can't deal with bi/pan characters fr. They either claim he never liked men bc they didn't see it, so it must have never happened! So he is straight in their views.

Or people who ignore the word "preference" and instead run to the hills with the rest of the sentence, claiming he is strickly gay and any bobtarion ships with women and non-men are homophobic.

I'm literally bi with clear preference for men, yet I've mostly dated women. Being bi with preference isn't hetro/gay with extra spice.

Like I genuinely believe that even in a world where playersexual wasn't the norm, bobtarion would still be queer and like all genders.

The playersexual thing started as a good thing in games, especially with their accidental inclusiveity by making everyone and their grandma bi or pan. But now people are using it as a cheap excuse to erease character's queerness?

Saying the company is just pandering to the audience and not actually being inclusive so you should definitely believe their headcanon when they tell you this character is straight/gay and ignore the canon.

Like fuck dude why are you walking backwards? Even if that theory was correct, why erease the accidental queer representation??? Why force this biphobia on something because the company may not have had the purest intentions.

Also just so we are clear, Larian doesn't do playersexual, not until Divinity 2 and Baldur's Gate 3. All their old games besides it had a romance restriction based on gender.

So I genuinely believe they actually meant it in a queer way when they made the characters attracted to all genders. Because they never did it before in any other Baldur's Gate game! They had no reason or expectation to do it now. They're not in it just for the money either because Baldur's Gate was a cult classic rather than a known title like Assassin's creed. The game in early access flew under the radar for so many years! And all characters were queer since day fucking one!

And each character expresses some of their queerness in their own way. The most vocal about it is bobtarion, so it's so fucking wild to me how people go "actually it's problematic of you to assume he is queer just bc he is flamboyant" my brother in christ what plane of existence do you live on? Did we play the same game?? When did him being flamboyant or feminine ever come up in this conversation of his queerness? I swear half these people didn't even bother playing the game, and the other half never did his romance.

No one is "headcanoning" bobtarion as bi and queer bc we saw a hint of eyeliner on his upperlid. We literally know he is queer bc he metaphorically is screaming it at the top of his lungs during all of the acts. He literally flirts with Wyll and Gale during Act 1 so many times.

Shadowheart hits on Karlach! Which is besides the point, but I felt like bringing it up because she too gets treated as "fanon lesbian but canon hetro" character when she is so fucking bi/pan in canon.

People are so used to companies never including queer characters that they are ereasing actual queer representation by lumping it as merely "playersexual pandering" and belitting their queerness by claiming it's just headcanons when it is in the fucking game in canon.

[cheriecoke]

Death drabble (I made Dazai say this to Odasaku in a silly drabble I wrote). Idk why am I sharing this lol. Just thought it doesn't make sense ig and wanted some opinion.

"Death is wonderful, don't you think? Finding comfort in something so scary that could unexpectedly hit you from behind at any moment is a blessing. Hugging it, cherishing it like It's a good thing for it to happen, welcome it with open arms. It's a good way, way better than stressing over when, what, how. If you are the reason of your death, it's easier to accept it. Many don't accept life comes to an end, people are gone so crazy out there some even wish to become immortal. The worst curse to ever happen to me. When I cause myself a particular situation of how and when I could die, I feel like I'm controlling the end of my life, which I am. No one can beat me, if not myself. If someone else is to kill me, I would thank them. I wouldn't cry, scream, and try to save myself. In my point, saving yourself from death is like denying to complete the circle of life. People get born to lapse. Painfully slowly, trying to build themselves something they won't need forever, because they will die. Humans get born with the idea of wanting to live, but why is that? Why do humans wants to live so excessively, if at the end, everybody dies? One way or another, death is something you can never deny. No mutation, no intoxication, no virus or experiment can keep you alive."

omg nonnie this is so good what ??? it makes perfect sense, and it works so well for dazai’s character ☹️ him thinking it’s a good thing he’s a so willing to accept death bc he doesn’t understand how good life can be and why people cling to it </3 would break oda’s heart fr :,( beautifully written lovely, thank you so much for sharing with me !!! i’d love to read the full drabble if you ever decide to share it, this is amazing :))

[padfootastic]

once again i have basket of compliments that you will listen to without feeling overwhelmed or under selling yourself

idk why i have this hunch that while you're normally a confident bean but whenever someone compliments you you're just like pen.exe has stopped working i need a table to hide under

1) sausaude (also the spellings of these are definitely gonna be wrong) -

the entirety of it just i was screaming on the inside. it's SO GOOD.

IT'S SO GOOD THAT I WANT TO DO A DANDWAT PRANAM FOR IT, don't worry I'm not gonna do it

also if you're worried that the break you took made your writing weak or something. don't. that was a masterpiece you wrote.

but esp the end parts like when sirius finally spoke. and just i for .2 seconds wanted them to reconcile cause they have such a history among them and they're the last ones standing BUT then i remembered it's because of that fucking history they can't cause Remus knew padfoot. knew James. knew their bond. and then this happened so no remus will never get padfoot again and they will live on like shattered glass with a piece missing (James) so they can never fix it. they burned too bright and their sun was taken away and now they're just planets with no sun left to orbit

2) notes app drabbles, the entire series like i just— can't tell you how many times i randomly go back to it to read it in middle of night, whenever i want the oomf and saltiness and it's to a point that i now have lines memorised. and boy didn't that hurt? shouldn't he be used to betrayal from that corner in room hits like a gold mine at 3am idk what to say and also the one where harry says (politely) stfu mrs Weasley.

3) shovel talk!!!! i love it so so so much cause it's the quiet arrogance that does it for me. I'm such a sucker for that. and lily going from confidence to pro max to oh I'm talking sirius back and actually feeling that talk which si retroactively hilarious.

4) I FALL TO PIECES WHEN I'M WITH YOU

so we all are all fucking emotional whores here and definitely not prudes so you know that i have definitely read some serious explicit shit with the straightest face ever.

idk what it is about that fic BUT ISTG I BLUSH LIKE A TEENAGE GIRL WHENEVER I'M READING IT AND YOU SAID IT WAS YOUR FIRST TIME WRITING MATURE/EXPLICIT

bhai i really really could not tell that not kidding comes in top 5 best explicit work I've ever read . it's that good for me.

5 ) i can't just lost all of them na, but it's true like i love little tiny things in all of them that i try to type we'll be here for 375849 hours—the descriptions of tattoos/ sirius's lip ring (which knowing about yours is ehfjfjfjn)/ harry liking smell of cigarette/ RANI/ labor of love and that vivid scene of just a kid on counter mashing potatoes while you add masalas.

you invoke imagination like no other.

FOUNDATIONS OF DEACAY I'm so so looking forward to that cause it's intresting so see what harry will do next

ash you— i— i’m so??? incoherent!??

(stop it stop calling me out, i’ve had people physically restrain me while giving me a compliment because i break out in literal hives and even reading this kept making me hide behind my hands and curl my toes because!!!!)

also!!!! the fact that ur fav fics (saudade, shovel talk, fall to pieces) r literally the ones closest to my heart is so—we’re on the same wavelength fr.

ur way too sweet to be real, ash. i don’t even know what to do w myself rn. pen.exe really has stopped working. needs a reboot.

Tell me what you love about my writing

[rose-tinted-juls]

holy damn lover another MASTERPIECE is here!!! (yeah it took me an eternity to read it, i hate uni) honestly my lifespan expands by at least five years whenever i read about chris and charles.

1. "you're stuck with me now, boyfriend and all that" catch me SCREAMING why do i feel so emotional this is not normal

2. the way charles cooks breakfast and in the meantime keeps leaning over her shoulder to correct the padel video LOVE LOVE LOVE i can so imagine him like this fr + let's also mention the beauty of a line "i'm going to padel you upside the head" bc it's just perfect

3. chris correcting charles' english 😭 but in this cute and definitely not rude way 😭 and charles doesn't mind, not when it's her correcting him 😭

4. "hold your fire, find your english" I LOVE THIS lmao i'm so gonna use this the next time my sis and bro in law comes to visit (he's not from my country) there were so many instances when i could've used this in the past. i will now. thank you for blessing me with it.

5. "why did i not know this?" - "i don't know. why didn't you know that?" - "google said nothing about this." - "you googled me?!" - "you didn't google me? ...yeah, that's what i thought." THIS WHOLE DIALOGUE. i mean i still don't know why i'm fangirling over it so hard bc it seems sich a simple conversation. maybe it's the fact that it's chris and charles. but. i just do. love it.

6. chris blushing when charles casually implies that she'll visit many times. and the line "he doesn't have to take special care to include her in his life, he just does it - does it like he's always been doing it, always been sharing these small parts of his life with her." OMG this is what i live for. god when is it my turn??

7. the detail of charles bringing a napkin to his mouth so he can reply to her sooner SO REAL. these are the things that make this story feel like you're actually living through it

8. another detail that made me scream bc it's just REAL REAL, is when they're walking and chris moves a bit further away from him subconsciously and charles pulling her right back 😭😭 also, charles saying that she will ruin his first impression in the eyes of her family lmaoo

9. charles testing his knowledge of her family while she tries to finish her book 😭😭 so so so adorable! and "my perfect little angel" OMFG

10. let's not forget about charles worrying his ass off bc he doesn't want to ruin everything by making a stupid mistake and ruining her family's opinion and her own like come on 😭😭 this is so charles and you can't convince me otherwise

11. "she can't possibly understand it because he doesn't even properly understand it, the way he feels about her." poetic. truly poetic. 🫶🏼✨

12. charles trying to convince chris to go back to bed by pointing out how warm and soft it is AND then them running around. his reaction time (obvs), the way he catches her with a strong grip AND how he carries her back to bed. *chefs kiss*

13. well. the smut. let's just say that i loved it. & "never apologise for that" !!!!! jesus bloody hell. and now let me not continue bc then i'll be burned for the things i'd write

14. him mumbling in french (already dying bc that's the best thing ever) and her asking him if he's talking trash about her. yes. <33

15. that final phone call. already the fact that he wanted her to call asap when she gets home. and then the call itself. charles being a child about the hickey, them terribly trying to overcome the language barriers, and then the "thank you for calling me." - "thank you for wanting me to call." i'm dead. this must be heaven.

oh mack you did it. once again. as you always do. you make me scream, giggle, cry, smile, stop breathing, throw my phone away. i adore this story, i adore your mind for coming up with it and then creating this masterpiece with all these gorgeous words, and i adore you. <333

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—05. Monte Carlo Ave. —word count: 9.3k —warnings: obvious implications of sex, no smut. club activities, so much fluff you'd wish you were dead. angst in the middle. love, mackie... so, just like chapter 4, there is a nsfw cut of this chapter whose link is embedded in the post. all nsfw warnings will be on that post. thank you for bearing with me while I took my sweet ass time writing this next part--there is no exaggerating how busy my life has become in the past couple months.

He wakes up at five-thirty-seven in the morning, exactly twenty-three minutes before his alarm is set to go off. Charles can’t remember the last time he was awake before his alarm, or the last time his alarm at home was set to go off before the sun rose. 

It was fear that woke him up—fear of waking her up. 

Her. Chris. His girlfriend, who is sound asleep next to him, in his bed, in his apartment, in his city. 

She’s a cute sleeper, he knew—he knew, because she’d fallen asleep on FaceTime calls half a dozen times, because he’d watched her for a nearly creepily amount of time in Abu Dhabi, when he couldn’t believe she was actually there. She’s a cute sleeper, and yet, the shine hasn’t worn off yet, because he still watches. 

She’d gone to bed in a hoodie from work and no pants, because, of course she had. Of course she had. She’s got one hand awkwardly craned under her pillow and another wrapped up in the comforter like it’s a finger trap, and her hair is messy, so messy and half-stuck to her cheek. It’s fucking adorable, and he feels so lucky. 

He gets nervous then, nervous that she’s going to wake up and he’s going to be staring and it’s going to be weird, so. Instead of continuing to ogle, he reaches for his phone from the nightstand, turns the volume all the way down and scrolls through social media pretending not to steal a glance every time she takes a deep breath or moves a muscle. 

It’s half an hour before she yawns awake, and he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to wake her up, after all. 

“Morning,” he says, clicks the power button on his phone and lets it fall face down on his chest. 

Chris smiles. “Morning,” she breathes, and leans over to kiss him. 

“Mmm,” he hums, pushes his index finger against her lips. “What happened to morning breath?” He asks. 

“Nope,” she speaks against his finger, threatens to bite it. He knows he wouldn’t stop her, but moves his finger anyway to kiss her properly, to let her smile out of it. “You’re stuck with me now, boyfriend and all that.”

“Gross,” he smiles. “I love it.”

She flops back against the mattress with a laugh, “What time is it?” she asks, leaning over to reach for her own phone. 

“Six,” he hums. She scowls at her lock screen. “We have plans at seven.”

“Oh?” She peruses, sits up to stretch properly, to yawn again and ruffle her hair and God, she is so beautiful. He might never get over it. 

“Padel…” he smiles, wonders if he’s about to get in trouble, to start their first fight as a couple at six in the morning on a Tuesday. He probably should have run this past her, he thinks, run all of it past her. He’d just gotten so caught up in the planning of it all. “...with my brothers.”

Her hands flop from her hair onto the comforter, landing with a soft thud on the padded fabric. When she looks at him, she’s still smiling, but her eyes are tired, confused. “Baby, what is padel?”

– – –

They cook breakfast together—well, Charles cooks breakfast. Chris spends the entire time leaning against the kitchen counter cradling her phone, watching a YouTube video on the basis of padel playing. Charles keeps leaning over her shoulder, plastic spatula in hand, and correcting the man in the video. That’s not what you do, he hums. They don’t know what they’re talking about. 

After the fifth comment in as many minutes, she turns to him with a chill-inducing glare. “I’m going to padel you upside the head,” she says, with a smile on her face—which only makes it that much more terrifying. He nods, steps back from her shoulder and returns to the crepes he’s butchering on the stovetop. 

– – –

“I have to know,” she asks, sat on the floor in the bedroom, in the limited space at the end of the bed, tying her shoes. “What was the plan if I didn’t pack workout clothes?”

“Eh,” he mutters, rifling through the hangers of sweatshirts hanging in his closet. “I would have put on you some of my clothes,” he continues, pulls his two best options down from the hangers and holds them up for her. One, a blue Ferrari crewneck. The other, gray, from his friend’s line. 

“You would have put me in your clothes,” she corrects his English, and if it was anyone else he’d find it insufferable. But he doesn’t, not with her, so he chuckles and his smile grows and he can feel his dimples. For the dramatics, though, he rolls his eyes. 

“Which one?” He asks, taking turns raising the two sweatshirts. 

“As tempting as the team kit is,” she laughs, and he tosses the gray one to her. He could have guessed the gray one, he thinks, but she’s surprised him more than once before. “Thank you,” she hums, pulling it over her head and carefully fixing the wisps of hair that fall from her tonytail when she does it. 

“Always,” he nods, holds a hand out to pull her to her feet.

– – –

Arthur and Lorenzo are already at the court when Chris and Charles arrive, attempting—and failing—to play a round of singles padel on the doubles court Chalres had reserved for the morning.

Just as they approach, a shot ricochets off of Arthur’s racquet and flies past Lorenzo, colliding with the glass wall behind him with a thud. Lorenzo jogs after the ball, laughing, pointing at his brother in a sore act of celebration. 

Arthur is just as sore a loser. “Ah!” He calls out, gesturing with his own racquet to the tape that runs along the top of the net. “Filet!” Net!

Lorenzo blows air from his cheeks and scoffs, firmly bouncing the ball against the ground a few times before picking it up properly. “S'il te plaît!” Please!

“Mon pote, allez,” Mate, come on, Arthur groans. “Ça tremble encore!” It’s still shaking!

“Arthur, j'étais à trois mètres,” I was three meters away. 

Charles grins, pulls open the door to the court, holding it open for Chris to step in front of him. “Retiens ton feu,” hold your fire, he calls out to his brothers, “trouve ton anglais,” find your English.

Both boys' heads shoot over, scowls still apparent. “Do you see this? Do you see him run into this net?” Arthur shouts, still gesturing wildly with his racquet. 

“Do not let him convince you, you know what you saw,” Lorenzo interjects, carries on even though the game has been abandoned and they instead jog over to greet Chris and Charles. Lorenzo is first over, kissing either of Charles’ cheeks. “You saw this?” He asks, and Charles laughs, nods. 

“I did.”

“Bullshit,” he laughs, shoves Charles’ shoulder and turns to greet Chris. “You?”

Charles expects to find some apprehension on Chris’ face, something that shows she’s not sure of her place yet, but he doesn’t find any. Confidently, she speaks, “He’s crazy, you weren’t even close,” and then kisses each cheek. 

Lorenzo tosses his arm around Chris with a laugh. “Charles,” he speaks, points to her with the same hand that’s thrown over her shoulder. “My team.”

Charles chuckles. “I try not to make a habit of telling my girlfriend what to do.” Chris blushes at the very mention of it—girlfriend. If he knew it would be that easy to make her blush he would’ve asked weeks ago. He might’ve asked in Austin, if he’s being completely honest with himself. 

“Oh-ho?” Arthur’s already teasing, clapping his hands on Charles’ shoulders and laughing like a madman. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Neither of them—Chris or Charles, say anything. Between the flush of her cheeks and the depth of his dimples, they might as well have it spray painted on their foreheads. “Right,” Lorenzo offers, “well, Chris, as the only person around here with some sense, you’re on my team.”

“You can have her,” Charles teases, Lorenzo quirks a brow. “She has no idea how to play, but also she is a rule master.”

“Abandoning your own girlfriend,” Chris interjects, the same teasing tone laced in her voice. She pretends to shiver, grand and dramatic, even though it’s eighteen degrees and sunny and she’s got long pants and a sweatshirt—his sweatshirt on. “It’s cold, man.”

He rolls his eyes, sticks a racquet in her hand and moves to kiss her, which is more than close enough to Lorenzo for him to abandon his position next to Chris, retreating to the safety of the court, bouncing the padel ball as he walks. “Ready to take us?” Charles asks quietly, just to her. Arthur is somewhere in the space behind him gulping a water bottle in an almost comical manner. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replies, half-chuckled, demeanor light and bouncy. There’s something about her that always seems full of energy, ready to take on whatever is put in front of her head-on.

“Don’t worry,” he practically whispers, winks and gives her shoulder a soft squeeze. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Chris clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, feigns offense and scoffs loudly, bringing the head of the racquet up to the center of his chest, pushing him back a few steps. “Don’t you dare.”

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, offering—practically promising—to let someone else win. There’s still a basket somewhere in a storage closet full of broken video game controllers from his childhood. And once, for three entire weeks when they were six and nine, he and Arthur weren’t allowed at the dinner table together because they would race to finish their food and promptly get sick. Then again, it is Chris, all bouncy ponytail and quick wit in his home in his clothes, so. Maybe it isn’t as far-fetched as it seems. 

As expected, it becomes apparent quickly that Chris is a beginner at a game the boys have spent years playing. She misses shots and struggles to find her footing and the best positioning, but it doesn’t crush her mood, dampen her energy. Lorenzo—her teammate, takes on quite a coaching role, offers an equal amount of encouragement and advice. 

She’s a quick learner, though. Charles knew she would be. So, despite the sound loss she and Lorenzo take in the first game, she manages a decent amount of solid shots and a spattering of genuinely impressive ones. She’s quick, that’s her advantage. She might not know what to do when she gets to the ball, but she always gets there. And, when she scores her first point, actually jumps into the air when she gives Lorenzo a high-five, he can’t help but find himself soft, a smile tugging on his lips, holding back on the points that follow in hopes of seeing her goofy grin again. 

“You did quite well out there,” he tells her when they’re between games. Her eyes light up and she hums around a mouthful of water, hurries to swallow it before she laughs. 

“Really?” She coughs, clears her throat. “You think?”

He nods. “You’re quick,” he mutters before taking a drink of his own water. 

“I ran track in high school.” He quirks a brow, which makes her smile, which makes him choke on a laugh mid-swallow. You’d think neither of them had ever had a drink from a plastic water bottle before. 

“Really?” She nods, hums her response, toying with her ponytail. Her bangs are loose, untucked from her ears and her hair-tie, and he feels the overwhelming urge to brush it from her face. “Why did I not know this?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Why didn’t you know that?”

“Google said nothing about this.”

“You Googled me?!” Briefly. Briefly, he had googled her at the very beginning of it all. Really, it was more Googling her family than it was her, they are the ones with all the information out there. He needed to make sure he wasn’t starting something with a raging white supremacist or a murderer. 

“You didn’t Google me?” She scratches the back of her head, not-so discreetly looks anywhere but her. “Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

With a playful eye roll, she promptly changes the subject: “you want to be on my team?”

“I…” he laughs, “...don’t know if we are there yet.”

“Oh,” She laughs, brows raised with a goofy smile and it’s official—her laugh is never going to not give him butterflies, never not going to be so much better in person. “The truth comes out.”

Chris is soundly defeated in three straight games, despite finding herself with a new teammate each round—first Lorenzo, then Arhur, and finally, after five minutes of her best puppy-dog eyes, the most competitive man alive ( her boyfriend) agreed to be her teammate. 

It’s hours later by the time they leave the country club—no, no, Charles said it was specifically a padel club. They part ways with his brothers and then they’re driving back through the winding streets to his apartment. She ogles, like she’s been doing since she got here, all the careful, intricate architecture and the perfectly manicured manner of the whole place. It’s like people don’t live here, like she’s in a made-up land. She latches onto every imperfection—a crack in the sidewalk, a shrub with a single projection, a half-ragged French flag on the stern of a super yacht. It makes it all feel human, lived in, like the place someone can grow up, the place he grew up. 

After two hurried showers and a change of clothes they set off for lunch at Charles’ self-proclaimed “favorite restaurant.” It’s a sushi place, which she finds interesting, because not once has she heard him talk about sushi when talking about his favorite foods. 

Charles parks in a garage that’s a fifteen minute walk from the restaurant because, as he puts it, she’s walking the streets with the nation’s best tour guide. He starts the tour with the middle three corners of the Grand Prix, in reverse order—the hairpin, mirabeau bas, and portier, and then they take the quarter-or-so mile walk to the first of many monuments that Chris wouldn’t even attempt to pronounce in her own head. It’s there, somewhere between the forced tourist photos he snaps of her at Le Pêcheur and the one at the Promenade Princesse Louise-Hyppolyte, the truth comes to light. 

“What do you mean you did not tell anyone you were here?!” He exclaims all dramatic-like, dropping the phone from in front of his face, abandoning the search for what he considers the perfect angle. “You left the country, Chris.” She shrugs, doesn’t really see the big deal in all of it. It’s not like she… no, it is like she purposely didn’t tell people. That’s exactly what it is, actually. 

“I thought we were keeping this on the down-low.”

“Not that low!” He scolds, but she can tell he wants to laugh. He should, she thinks. It’s funny. “What if you die?”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you planning on killing me?” He glares daggers, burns a you’re not funny look into her head. “Letting me be killed?” She’s sure it annoys him to no end, positive almost, but it’s not like she can go back in time and tell everyone, and even if she could, she’s not sure she would. She likes this being just theirs, at least for now, while they can still manage it. She likes not having to report back to her parents—to her dad, especially—about her hotshot, young punk racing driver of a boyfriend and the silver spoon he feeds her french delicacies with. 

He sighs, shoulders wildly heavy, and holds her phone back out to her. His eyes are soft, frustrated in a way she didn’t expect them to be. She really didn’t think it was that crazy of a decision. “You should have told someone,” he says, and she feels immensely guilty. 

“Hannah knows,” she blurts, an honest offer of anything she has to not get such a serious look from him. He’s not meant to be serious.

“Hannah knows?”

“She knows I went somewhere. I didn’t tell her where,” she says.  I didn’t tell her where because my brother and father don’t want me to date a race driver, she doesn’t say, because that would only make him more nervous. 

“You should have told someone you were here,” he says, drags out the vowel sounds and tosses an arm over her shoulder. He kisses her temple, pulls her into him and chuckles. Okay, okay. He’s not actually upset.

“Probably,” she nods, a smile pulling on the corners of her lips. “I can tell them when I get home, if you want. Start some drama over Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure making a good impression will not be hard after that.”

MayaBay, that’s the name of his favorite restaurant, Thai and Japanese and a sushi bar that Charles talks about for the entire walk there. Apparently securing a reservation at the restaurant was hard enough, but a seat at the coveted sushi bar was something else entirely, and, according to Charles, was his first failed call after Chris’ visit was planned. She tries to tell him that it doesn’t matter where in the restaurant they eat, but he’s insistent that he’s going to try again and again, and again every time she comes to visit until he can manage to get them in. 

Her cheeks flush red at the revelation and she continues to hold out hope he’s oblivious to the heat that radiates from her face every time he meets her with some sort of compliment or insistence of inclusion. She doesn’t even think he’s conscious of the latter, which makes it all that more special. He doesn’t have to take special care to include her in his life, he just does it—does it like he’s always been doing it, always been sharing these small parts of his life with her. 

Lunch is enough to leave her full for the entire day. Po Pia Kung and Ceviche and Roti and Nigiri—two plates, no wasabi, per Charles’s request—and she’s worried that she’ll be full before getting the chance to lay eyes on their entrees. 

“This place is so special,” she tells him from across the tiny table, around the too-big centerpiece. “Thank you.”

He hums around a mouthful of Roti, brings a napkin to his mouth when he swallows so he can start talking that little bit sooner. “For what?”

Chris shrugs. Thank you… for. For. For everything, she supposes. “For wanting me here.”

He smiles, dimples digging deep, cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink when he adjusts in his seat, leans forward enough that it’s just barely perceivable. “Thank you for wanting to be here,” and you blush right back. 

It’s got to be quite the sight for any onlookers, the two of them acting all middle-school. They aren’t aware enough of the other people in the restaurant for it to be of note, and even if they were, they wouldn’t care. 

It’s Pad Thai for the main course with a side of three bites of Charles’ Kadou Yang stolen in the midst of quiet conversation, and then, as if they haven’t shared everything else already, they split the restaurant’s signature, meant to share dessert. 

“So,” he hums, somewhere on the walk back to the car—or, to the surprise Charles refuses to reveal that’s on the way back to the car. He swings their interlocked hands between their body, drags the action out in the same way he does the vowel. “When do I get to come to Georgia?”

It takes her by surprise, puts a kiddish smile on her face. It should be obvious that he would want to come, because, well, it’s where she lives. But, every conversation has always been about her coming to him. And it makes sense to her, because he’s always moving and she’s always in the same place. It makes sense that he wouldn’t come to her, but now that she thinks about it, it makes more sense that he would. “You want to come to Georgia?”

“That,” he laughs, “that is a silly question. Of course I want to.”

“Well, I mean. You’re always welcome, but I don’t know what your schedule looks like.” She knows it’s a mess, undoubtedly, even if she’s never laid eyes on it. She can only imagine the amount of people wanting him in places year round, and having all of that squished into a couple month period of time? She wouldn’t be surprised if he spends more time traveling in the offseason than he does when he’s actually racing. 

“I don’t know what it looks like, either,” he takes out his phone and clicks through half a dozen apps with his free hand—the one not intertwined with hers. “Uh…,” he chuckles at the screen like even he can’t believe just how in demand he is. “Next month I’m in Italy for some days, then France for Christmas and London for New Year.” Chris leans over to look at his calendar. 

“What about there?” She asks,  pointing to the block of dates that are empty between his color-coded trips to Italy and France. “My brother’s wedding is that weekend,” she says, and then realizes how crazy the proposition sounds and instantly attempts to retract it, “but you probably don’t want to go to that.”

She’d love more than anything to have him at Chase and Hannah’s wedding, but she can understand why he would want to do anything else. It’s one thing to make him travel all that way, but then to make him travel all that way for a wedding, where he’ll have to meet the parents and the siblings and dog—that’s just a cruel thing to imply is expected of him. It’s certainly no way to keep him wanting to come back for another visit. 

He bumps his shoulder against hers. “I love weddings.”

“Yeah?” She bumps back, dumb little smile on her face. “When you don’t know anyone there and your girlfriend is in the bridal party?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Unconsciously, she puts distance between their arms, to keep from getting too hot or to keep them from tripping or maybe for no reason at all because she really doesn’t notice that she does it. “My whole family’ll be there,” she continues meekly, and their arms are almost taught. 

“Good,” Charles scoffs, and pulls her right back to his side, like even an arm’s length is too far.  “I can fix the first impression you’re going to break.”

Chris rolls her eyes, both at his words and his actions—painfully endeared by both.  “Why are you so convinced I’m going to have something bad to say about you?”

“I’m not worried really about what you say, but your father is not going to like me if you say to him, ‘this is my boyfriend who I saw in two different countries without telling to you.’”

“Yeah,” she nods, bites back a laugh against the skin on the inside of her cheek. It shouldn’t be as funny as it is to her; the state of her life. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there,” she cuts the vowel short, chokes on a laugh, sucks in her own lips in an attempt to keep them from spilling, the laugh escaping silently through her nose. He meets her with a matching—no, a somehow dramatized mirroring—of her expression that only makes it that much harder not to laugh. When she finally does break, there are practically tears in her eyes, and it was never even that funny. 

He smiles at her laugh, like always, and shakes his head. “I will have to come to this wedding to do damage control.” 

“Probably,” she nods, still laughing. It’s like it’s all just sunk in for her—the boyfriend. The long distance boyfriend, as in, long distance. Whatever everyone else considers long distance, times the distance of the Atlantic Ocean and the average net worth of his hometown. The fact that he was a stranger just a few months ago, and now she’s in her second foreign country in three days with him and it all feels so normal. The fact that she didn’t even want to go on that Hot Lap—hot laps, plural— or that she didn’t have any interest in going to the race. If she’d tried just a little bit harder to get out of it, or stayed in the beer tent for just ten minutes longer or, or, or. It’s not funny at all, and yet it’s hilarious. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know this?”

“I know this.” She sighs, deep and slow and grounding, one stray chuckle slipping through her lips before she can continue. “Don’t book any flights, then—Until I make sure it’s all good with Hannah.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, salutes her with his phone still in his hand and everything.

“Okay, so,” Charles sighs, drops his head against the pillow with a soft plop. Lunch was hours ago, now, succeeded by a walk around the Japanese Gardens, a trip to the supermarket because his fridge is, as Chris so affectionately referred to it as—bachelor pad chic—and a personal tour around the Prince’s Car Collection where he got to show off his favorite memories. It’s after dinner, even. After half-stale pasta made by him and meal-saving chicken expertly prepared by her, after two episodes of a French reality show with English closed captioning, after a day he won’t soon forget. It’s then, in bed, while she reads the final pages of the book she’s been cutting away at for weeks now, that he tests his knowledge on the information he’s been quizzing her for afternoon. “Chandler is the oldest, and she’s dating Alexis.”

“Correct,” Chris says, turns the page on her book. 

“But the drama is that Alexis doesn’t like any of your family, so she and your sister moved away and don’t come to anything.” She hums her response this time, and he wonders if she’s even listening all that much or if he could get her to agree to anything right now. “And then Chase is in the middle, he’s marrying Hannah. But the drama is Hannah was—” before he can even get the next word out, she’s glancing over at him to interject. “Hannah is your best friend, and was before Chase dated her. And she has a little boy named Reid with a dickhead.”

“Yup.”

“And then you, my perfect little angel.”

She smiles at the pages of her book. He likes making her smile. “Don’t forget it.”

“Your parents are Bill and Cindy, short for… William and,” he pauses. She pauses. He has no idea what Cindy is short for. “Lucinda?” Chris blinks, hard, dog ears the corner of her page and shuts her book. If he didn’t already know it was a pretty shit guess, he sure knows it now. Sometimes a blink is worth a thousand and one words. 

“No,” she says, furrows her brows so subtly that it shouldn’t be recognizable, but it is. And then she blinks again. 

“I knew that,” he boasts, his best cocky tone and a matching smug expression on his face. “I was just testing you.”

She chuckles, leans to her right to set the book down on the bed-side table there. “On my own mother’s name?” She questions, tucking herself under the covers and scooching over, leaning against his chest comfortably. He would let her lie like this as long as she wanted. It’s so sweet to have her in his arms.

“Well, you call her ‘Mom,’” he explains, even down to the forced American accent when he says ‘Mom.’ “So maybe you did not know.”

“Cindy isn’t short for anything.”

“Like I said,” he twists her hair around his finger slowly, mindlessly, without any sort of purpose or intention. When she uses him like a pillow this way, he can always smell her shampoo. He’s been trying to place it for days now. Coconut, he knows—but there is something else there, too, something he can’t put his finger on.  “I know this.”

“Okay, continue then.”

“I will,” he says, lets the twirled hair fall from his finger and kisses her head with a smile on his face. “They have a dog called Beans that you call Beanie-Baby,” he pauses. “And the drama is, your parents do not like me.”

He can see the apples of her cheeks flare in his peripheral, a laugh stirring in her chest. “The drama is: there is no drama with them,” she says. “They’re all bark no bite.”

He adjusts underneath her, sighs all heavy and deflated because the thought of it—her family, her parents. It’s so fucking intimidating, it is. Because he knows how important they are to her, how highly she regards their opinion, even if she pretends that she doesn’t. He knows that it’s everything to her, and if he makes even a single mis-step he could ruin it all—their opinion, her opinion, all of it. And something in his gut, a pit in his stomach tells him that she’s already made a mis-step for him when she came over here without telling anyone she was coming. Why wouldn’t she tell anyone she was coming? “What do I even talk to them about?”

“I don’t know,” she says, adjusts to accommodate his adjustment, and eventually they’ll get properly comfortable. “Racing.”

“We race in different cars.”

“But it’s all cars.”

He opens his mouth to speak, pauses, clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and then finally, “it’s different.”

“I think you’re overreacting a bit, here,” she says, and he rolls his eyes. He’s not overreacting, she’s underreacting. “I get along with your Mom and your brothers and I don't know what anyone is saying half of the time.” Okay, okay, maybe she has a point there. He did kind of throw her to the wolves this week—not that his family are wolves, just. Meeting the parents before the relationship is even a relationship is. It’s just messed up for him to do, and she’d handled it gracefully, perfectly and flawlessly charmed everyone. 

But then again. “Yeah, but you’re you.” Anyone would be charmed by her. She’s very charming. 

“And you’re you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.” She can’t possibly understand it because he doesn’t even properly understand it, the way he feels about her. The fear he feels about losing all the indecipherable feelings. It’s just good, everything about her, about being near her. It’s all so sweet and nice and good and he really, really doesn’t want to screw it up.

“You’ve already met my Dad,” she starts, clearly trying to calm him down, to ease his nerves. “My brother is just like him but more annoying,” she laughs, and even though he’s half deflated, her laugh still puts a weak smile on his face. “My sister probably won’t speak to you, and my Mom loves anyone that calls her ma’am and tells her she looks young. Just don’t talk about racing with her.”

“You just told me—”

“With the boys,” Chris clarifies.

“Your Mum doesn’t like Chase racing?”

“Does yours?” Good point. Is there a mother on the face of the planet, over all of history, that loved the idea of their kid racing other kids around high speed corners without any regard for their own lives?

“Then why did she let him?”

“I’m sure the same reason yours let you. Dad’s can be very convincing.”

His stomach drops. “Yeah. Yeah, they can be. My dad was.” His fingers trace mindless circles on the skin of her arm, soft and warm and clean. His eyes focus on the little red light on the bottom of his television, the one that’s only on when the TV is off. “He would spend so much time at the karting track with my brothers and I, you would not believe it. Sometimes my Mum would say that we lived there and should take blankets to sleep in the karts,” He says, and Chris laughs, makes him aware of his tracing fingers, but doesn’t stop them. “She would always say to us, ‘be careful, drive slow,’ and my Dad would always say ‘be careful, have fun.’ Now Mum will say to us just to be careful.”

“Did your Dad drop the ‘have fun,’ too?”

Red Light. Soft skin. He knew it was coming, it’s always coming, only a matter of time before he had to tell her. Honestly, he’s surprised it had gone this long, that she hadn’t asked about his father the moment she met the rest of the family and he was absent. He can’t stomach the look of pity she’ll give him. She can take it from everyone else, always had—but the image of that look on her face, the dead dad look. He never wants her to look at him like that. 

Red light. Stupid shapes. “No, uh,” he drags out his own words, putting off the inevitable by even a few more moments. “My father died when I was a teenager.” 

At least he knows her google search of him months earlier wasn’t too in-depth. “Oh my God, Charles,” She says, voice quiet and soft, like she thinks her words will break him. They won’t. He wishes she knew they won’t. 

“No,” he chuckles, kisses the top of her head. “No. Don’t look at me like that,”

“I’m not,” she protests, but he doesn’t have to look at her to confirm. Nobody is above the look of pity. 

“You are.”

“You’re not even looking at me,” she says, sits up off his chest. He keeps his eyes on the red light. “Look at me,” she insists, a soft hand on his jaw, pulling him back to her. 

He rolls his eyes before he looks, before there’s an eternity of silent eye contact because she doesn’t have the look on her face. Anyone can tell she feels bad, especially him, but it’s different. It’s different, and he doesn’t feel like some pathetic puppy in a cold corner. He doesn’t feel like a nineteen year old who’s world is in shambles. He just feels like him. Like it’s all okay. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” she finally speaks, and he hears it now. She doesn’t think he’s going to break, that’s now why she’s meek. She feels guilty, guilty that she brought it up, that she didn’t know, that he thinks she would ever think he would break.

“How would you?”

Sincere in her apology, in her guilt, she doubles down. “I’m still sorry.”

Her eyes are filled with something pure, some innocent kind of affection and he feels awful that she feels awful. “I’m sorry for going on about him.”

“I’ll listen as long as you want to talk.”

He smiles, a genuine laugh falling from his lips. “I can talk forever.”

“Then,” she smiles, leans over to kiss him before getting comfortable again, snuggling into his chest like before. “Tell me all about him.”

They sleep late the next morning. Maybe they’re adjusting to the timezone—unlikely, especially in Chris’ case—or they were just up to late talking, but Chris is stretching against the sheets, against Charles, just after nine.

It’s no surprise that she wakes up tangled in a mess of limbs, not even something she minds. Even with her hand asleep and painfully tingley. She knows that she won’t get to wake up like this tomorrow morning, or the morning after, or every morning for at least a month, so. She doesn’t mind the heat and the sleeping limbs and the threat of a knot in her shoulder. 

She wiggles out from his grip without waking him, grabs her phone from the bedside table and checks the time. She scans the room, eyes floating over all of her things scattered about. She should start packing up, she thinks. Start packing and getting ready to leave. 

She tiptoes across the room, around the corner into the bathroom to start there, far away from his sleeping body. Quietly, carefully, she brushes her teeth, washes her face and tugs a brush through her hair, tying it back into a ponytail. Slowly, she gathers her stuff—makeup and hair tools and skincare—and packs it away carefully into her toiletries bag. 

When she comes back into the bedroom, still cringing with every creak of the floor under her feet, she finds Charles awake in bed, soft, sleepy smile when she turns the corner. “Come back to bed,” he’s pleading before she can even mutter a good morning. 

“I have to pack,” she argues half-heartedly, because she wants nothing more than to climb back into bed, and his voice is no help—all hoarse and raspy with sleep. 

“Why?” He asks, drags the letter sounds out into a yawn that makes her smile. 

“Because,” she says, draws out the e-sound to tease his cadence. “It’s almost nine-thirty, and I'm leaving in two hours.”

“You don’t have two hours of stuff,” he protests. 

“I don’t like to be late,” she continues over her shoulder, opening her suitcase and laying it flat on the floor at the end of the bed, readjusting the still-folded clothes she hadn’t ended up wearing. 

“Well,” he says, stretches against his sheets and then he’s getting out of bed with another yawn. “Let me help you, then.”

He steps around her open suitcase carefully. There isn’t exactly a surplus of floorspace for him to find his footing in. He disappears into the bathroom, locks the door behind him while she continues to gather her things, reappearing ten minutes later. “Give me a kiss,” he says, trudging over to her with open arms. 

“You’re so needy this morning,” she quips, slinking her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He hums against her lips in agreement and the vibration makes her giggle into his mouth. 

Chris makes an attempt to return to the task at hand, but he has different plans, and follows around right behind her. His arms wrap around her torso everytime she stills for even a moment and he hugs her from behind, kisses her shoulders and her neck and her hair. 

“You make it hard to pack,” she tells him, and he laughs into the crook of her neck. What she really means is: you make it hard to leave. 

“Come back to bed.”

“I want to,” she sighs, leans back against his body.

He turns with her so they’re facing the bed. “It is right there,” he says, and she groans. “Look at it, all warm and comfy.” He’s right, the sheets look so soft, the pillows so fluffed. It’s a bed begging to be slept in, to be lounged on, to be snuggled by. 

She wiggles from his grasp, backs away from him towards the door and makes a challenge that she knows she has no intention of winning; “We can go back to bed,” she starts, still inching further away from him, further away from the bed, “if you can catch me,” and then she bolts. 

Chris’ high school claim to fame might have been that she was an all-state track and field athlete, but she’s got nothing on her boyfriend, who’s made a career out of his reflexes. It’s all pants and squeals and laughs that go on for entirely too long. 

She realizes that she’s trapped when they’re stood on opposite sides of his dining room table, and she couldn’t be the least bit bothered. She tries to fake him out, to move left and then right, but he predicts the move before she even makes it, catches her with a strong grip around her waist and lifts  her off her feet, carries her into the bedroom and tackles her onto the bed. 

click here for the nsfw cut

Chris’ flight leaves Nice at 12:30 pm, and then it’s a two and a half hour layover in Amsterdam, until finally, she lands in Atlanta long after sunset. She Ubers home and by the time she’s flopping down onto her couch, it’s almost eleven. Charles is the only call she makes before crashing. Then again, who else would she call? He’s one of two people who knew she was anywhere but home, and the only one who’d made her promise to call—despite the time difference and the Uber delay—with the threat of calling the first Georgia police number he could find on google to report her missing. 

He answers on the third ring, voice with the same rasp of that morning. “Hello?”

“Hi,” she speaks through a yawn, lays the phone beside her ear on the couch cushion and leaving it on speaker. 

“Hey,” he laughs, and she can perfectly hear the smile on his lips. She can almost feel it, the way the room reacts to it. 

“You gave me a hickey,” she says, fingering the bruise that lies an inch above her collarbone. His giggle on the other end is loud and boyish—particularly teenager-ish. 

“So, you made it home safe?”

“Well, if you ignore the vampire bruise on my neck.”

“Sorry,” he says, but he’s still laughing like a little kid. 

“It’s not funny,” she warns, thinly veiled because even she can hear the tired laugh at the back of her throat. 

“It’s a little funny.”

Chris rolls her eyes. “I have to see my entire family tomorrow!”

“Eh,” he hums, and just like the smile, she can see the shrug. She can see him so well it’s like he’s here or she’s there or that they’re somewhere together. Somewhere that doesn’t really matter, because they’re both there, smiling and laughing and shrugging. God. God, she already misses him so much. “They already don’t like me.”

“Charles!” She scolds, but she’s laughing now, too.

“I’m sorry,” he smooths. “I am. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know,” Chris sighs, pokes her own neck. “I’m not upset, I’ll just have to whisk it all morning.”

He chuckles. “You have to do what?” 

“You know, like. For eggs…or baking. A whisk,” with every word that leaves her mouth, another letter is types into her phone’s search bar. Google Translate: whisk.  “Le fouet?”

“Le fouet??” He questions with a tone that would make her think she’d called him a slur. “I do not think that is right.”

“Le fouet à…” she trails off, debating internally over the pronunciation of the words in front of her. “How do you say the ‘o’ and the ‘e’ when they’re together?” She asks, butchers it before he has the chance to give her any answer. “Œufs?”

“I have no idea what you are telling to me.”

“Telling you,” Chris corrects. “What I’m telling you.”

“Oh, mon dieu,” he groans. “This is sad. We can talk in the morning.”

“Okay,” she nods, yawns again. It’s long past her bedtime, and she has no idea how many hours now she’s been awake for. It’s gotta be going on twenty or more, surely. Surely. 

“Thank you for calling me,” he says, softly, genuinely grateful for the call. She’s grateful he’s grateful. It’s sweet, all the little things he does to show he cares. The way he does most of them without realizing it. 

“Thank you for wanting me to call.”

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