#so I thought just logically speaking it would be better to get an actually good case this time

[al-luviec]

juvie buddies

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

My old cheap phone case I've been using for years has all but fallen apart so now I've had to get a new one and it's all bulky and weird shaped </3

[soft-serve-soymilk]

More random head children musings (aside from the really sad one because that deserves better than a throwaway post):

Honestly I think it’s very fortunate that Dism’s team isn’t *entirely* comprised of lucid dreamers.

[quimichi]

-ˏˋ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ CRUSH HDCS ࿐ྂ Pt. 1.....

WARNING: × pure fluff in my opinion

SUMMARY: just some idiots with a crush...you :)

CHARACTERS: Aether, Albedo, Al-haitham, Amber, Arlecchino, Ayaka, Ayato & Baizhu x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.537

AETHER

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Paimon is so done with his constant ranting and crying about you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 She had to stop herself from telling you so often like "Just PLEASE date him already" because she couldn't just fall into her besties back like that

ᯓᡣ𐭩 you would think he doesn't really like you cause he's all quite. Wrong, he actually jusz tries to cope with his rising heat and nervousness around you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 did he once tell you that you smell nice even tho you were sweating lile a sinner in church? Yes

ᯓᡣ𐭩 did he also tell you that you look a bit different and like you haven't slept good after a haircut?...yes

ᯓᡣ𐭩 listen, he was concerned for you-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 everything was so embarrassing for him he thought you hate him now--- well, you didn't. Its hard not to find this weird and awkward ball of sunshine nice

ᯓᡣ𐭩 he also helps you out a lot, no matter whats the issue he's ready to help. And Paimon is the third wheel

ᯓᡣ𐭩 sometimes when he's nervous and talks to you he like suddenly needs to swallow down spit cause it gets stuck in his throat?? Idk how to explain it but i have this issue lol and its so hard to cover up the swallowing cause then people know youre nervous-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 literally once walked into a wall because he was looking at you. Luckily no one saw...except Paimon--she won't let him forget that ever

ᯓᡣ𐭩 speaking of Paimon, bro literally asked her for advice, and she was useful? Hey, look. Shes more than just emergency food-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 she was like, "If you truly love someone, you cook them something good! Love goes through the stomach!"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and thats why he desperately cooks for you every day---just put Paimon out of her misery and kiss him already

ALBEDO

ᯓᡣ𐭩 has no idea how and why it happened but he won't complain, you are pretty so-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 kinda takes it as an opportunity to study love a bit lol. Its not like he's dumb, far from that, he knows what hes feeling and why he feels attracted to you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 but somehow he can't tell you, words fail him to explain why although he knows

ᯓᡣ𐭩 is confused and is irritated lol

ᯓᡣ𐭩 did tell Succrose about it and my girl can hardly keep secrets-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 oh and like around a week after he noticed his crush on you he confessed

ᯓᡣ𐭩 he's pretty blunt and honest, straightforward if you will.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 there's honestly not much to say, he knows he likes you, also probably knows it's mutual, logic conclusion would be that he confesses so you two can consider a relationship after some time

ᯓᡣ𐭩 easy??? Like what's not to get???

AL-HAITHAM

ᯓᡣ𐭩 the strongest feeling he ever had for someone else was a book character-and that's also pretty rare cause he doesn't read fiction he only reads facts-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 treats you normally with a sprinkle of kindness

ᯓᡣ𐭩 you don't notice, no one would notice. Good for Al-Haitham cause ew what if people realize hes just a regular human being?? Can't have that

ᯓᡣ𐭩 would tell you to take breaks and eat an apple or other fruits in those breaks so you can concentrate better afterwards. Oh and take a breath of fresh air

ᯓᡣ𐭩 keeps the bitch face on. Only drops it when you're not looking.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 finds it incredibly cute when you play with your hair or bite your lip. Your concentration is adorable...

ᯓᡣ𐭩 if you read like him, he would consider reading one of your favorite books, even if it's stupid and not his thing at all. He wants a good reason to talk to you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 has no idea how to get out of the "I'm so fucking cool" bs to actually get closer to you without seeming cringe or needy

ᯓᡣ𐭩 feelings aren't his thing but hey, he trys. Just pay more attention and maybe you make it easier for him by doing the first step

AMBER

ᯓᡣ𐭩 nah cause she's so honest about it-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 probably all Mondstadt and their granny's know that Amber has a crush on you, except for you....dumbass

ᯓᡣ𐭩 she always asks you if you wanna join her on god knows what adventures

ᯓᡣ𐭩 she also always packs lunch for you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 like i said, she is pretty vocal about it and shows it quite well that she has an interest in you....and youre just brushing it off as kindness

ᯓᡣ𐭩 always ready to help! And she doesn't even need a thank you. Helping you is enough to make her happy, seeing your relieved is all she needs.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 gifts you flowers on a regular basis because they're just as pretty as you ♡

ᯓᡣ𐭩 she's so straightforward about her crush on you it's insane. People think she's dating you already, well wrong--

ᯓᡣ𐭩 big talk and actions but when it comes to beinh very vocal about her feelings she shuts down-she would stutter and blush not knowing what to say-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 like, pls stop being so oblivious to her attempts and just tell her you like her--then she'll confess too!

ARLECCHINO

ᯓᡣ𐭩 look, she's a busy woman (father), she doesn't have time for stupid crushes. She'll either tell you immediately once she figured it out, or just waits till the feelings disappear over time.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 why? If she is uncertain that this would work out with a fatui harbinger, then she wouldn't confess at all. You won't notice a thing.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 but if she does feel like it could work out, maybe not immediately because you need time...and yeah maybe she needs to know a 100% too, she would court you (??)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 presenting you the finest things from all nations. Also giving you ifts from your home region cause...well maybe you miss it? And if you're from Fontaine she gives you only the most expensive shit hidden from all normal ordinary people-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 she sneaks her way in your heart ngl-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and if she ever sees you with one of the things she gave you, she would make sure others know. Who knows who might have an interest in you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 would also make some space in her schedule just for you. Lets you know too. No, not to make you feel bad, nahhh. She wants you to know how important you are to her.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and that she will always have time for you no matter what.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 she's kinda advertising herself. "Look, I'm the baddest bitch around."

AYAKA

ᯓᡣ𐭩 also makes space in her very busy schedule just for you. And if she can't find the time so you both can be alone, she takes you with her to her appointments and everything.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wants her brothers 'ok' for it all. She wouldn't feel quite comfy if Ayato wouldn't like you. Thomas opinion is also very important to her.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 if she every plays this weird cooking game with you, she trys to make it tame. She doesn't want you too disgusted or near throwing up cause then she'd feel bad

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and also trys cooking for you normally. She trys ok, she's getting better and better. Takes this as an excuse to cook your favorite meals.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 dances with you! She's shy about it but she does. Ayaka teaches you her favorite dances and moves, and would get quite close to you by doing this...plus for her

ᯓᡣ𐭩 but besides this she's very shy about her crush on you and won't admit it very fast. Even after months she wouldn't dare say a word about it to you or hint anything to drastic.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tbh, it has to be you who would need to make the first step lol

AYATO

ᯓᡣ𐭩 very obvious...I mean...he gives you flowers, jewelry, new clothes. He takes you to events or dinners, important meetings. Lets you stay in the Kamisato estate for free. Bitch you even have your own room??

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ITS SO OBVIOUS

ᯓᡣ𐭩 i can't tell you more, except, just...just talk with him about it. Confront him and say, "yes" that's all he wants to hear from you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and see you happy ofc

BAIZHU

ᯓᡣ𐭩 if Chansheng can keep her mouth shut he wouldn't tell you at all. Or at least not so fast.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 if you know, you know. Baizhus story is...something. i won't spoiler tho

ᯓᡣ𐭩 because of that he needs to be very sure about it all. He can't just jump into something that might not work out at all or have no future in the beginning.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 he would show his interest with nice little gestures. Giving you medicine for free, helping your loved ones when sick also for free, smiling just a bit more at you or teaching you about herbs and all.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 he's very gentle with you, scared he might break you. In truth it's actually him who would break--

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Qiqi would notice, she's a smart girl ofc she would. Yeah she knew you two were a thing before you two knew lol

ᯓᡣ𐭩 oh yeah and Changsheng blew it all-

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Your hands wouldn't shake so much if you wouldn't love her"

TAGLIST ♡

@hehothrowawayfae @lucienbarkbark @ryu--19 @theblades @rikasurl

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐈

Taglist: @your-favorite-god

Plot: You, the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen grew up with a very devoted extended family. But after the dance of dragons begins, you know exactly on what side you belong

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere! EVERYONE x reader

>Being on top of Vhagar mid-air is probably the most frightened you have been in your life

>As you have been taught, there is only one rider for each dragon, and only one dragon for each rider, there has been no exceptions ever known, and you understand that the kindness of a dragon has limits, Vhagar will not let you ride on her as if you owned her, if you abuse, you will eventually fall

>The most logical conclusion is that Dagahrion is in Dragonstone, dragons always come back to their homes, but that's a good day of travel (time you don't have), and you could be wrong. Even if you got to Dragonstone safe and sound, to bring such a threat to the island, would be a move short of clever

> [Author's note: I have been stuck here for months and I find torturously tedious to write this part, so for the sake of advanving with the fic, I'll just explain that Y/N dismounts Vhagar after almost falling, and ends up finding Dagahrion on a cave]

>Fortunately, Dagahrion was still wearing his saddle and reins, so you climbed up on him like you had hundreds of times, caressing the rough scales and holding to him. You missed him so dearly, you missed your family, Dagahrion, and the people currently on Dragonstone. The blacks* were your family. No one else was

>It was nightime, an as Aemond's wife, everyone was likely looking for you, and Dagahrion's size will attract attention, you were clear of all the dangers, but did not have many options

>Dragonstone was almost a day away, but you decided to go immediately, taking advantage of the fact that Vhagar would take some time to get to the castle, after she almost threw you off of her

>In the air, you felt free again. Not like with Vhagar, where you flew on borrowed time, you were now with the dragon that hatched on your cradle, the one the gods intended for you

>You honestly feel like you fell asleep and woke up on Dragonstone, you are aware your thoughts were torturing you the whole trip, but the things you thought were only memories that weaked your resolve, sentimentalities and compassions that would not be given to you by the same people

>The handlers were surprised to see Dagahrion arriving, especially nearing the hour of the bat

>Your clothes are hardly enough to keep you warm when it was so late, you were so high in the air, and it was so cold

>Once you arrive, Daemon and Rhaenyra are woken up by the servants, Rhaenyra orders for a hot bath to be drawn for you, to prevent the cold for spreading in your body, despite Daemon's urgency to speak to you

>The bath is pleasant but endless, you would rather be going to Rhaenyra and telling her everything, lay your head on her lap, feel cared for. But you feel cared for now, with the hot water surrounding you, knowing she was caring for you by making sure your body was safe, and you actually needed this, you were exhausted and shivering.

>You were wrapped up in towels, padded and soft, the maids dressed you up for bed like when you were a child, and you are so tired you allowed them to

>You want to see Rhaenyra, and lash out at a poor girl when she says it's better you rest, you know you shouldn't, and that she is not Olivya or Celesse, that they are genuinely looking out for you, and this is nothing like how the greens kept you locked in a room and prevented you from seeing anything the didn’t want you to see. So you quickly apologize, not used to letting out anger this way

>You are aware you should rest, but still ask for Rhaenyra, and this time she comes to you. She's quiet and gentle, and doesn't ask anything, just watches you eat for some time before you speak.

>"Aegon had usurped the throne." You say with trepidation, knowing it was shocking news, but you find no point in dancing around the subject.

>Rhaenyra delicately grabs a napkin from your tray and cleans a stray, lonely tear, but she appears overall so calm

>"I have been informed, child. I have been crowned too."

>"And you lost Visenya" you wanted to say, but the corners of her eyes were red, and it is likely she would not want to speak about that

>"I'm sorr-" you begin before being cut off

>"I will not allow you to be, you were held hostage, ans you will stay by my side when we settle this and I am crowned in King's Landing."

>"I will." You promise, your voice fickle, but the promise behind it strong

>"Kings-" you cut yourself off this time, remembering who you are speaking to. "Queens can annul marriages, can they not?"

>Rhaenyra's lips purse in preoccupation. "Yes, they- yes I can" she resolves, reaching for your hand, which still holds some cutlery

>"Can you do mine?" You looked straight into her eyes

>She holds your hand tighter. "To whom?"

>"One-Eye." You reply with disdain

>"Did-" Rhaenyra pauses, looking for the right words, but you interrupt her

>"Is unconsummated."

>"Then I will do it first thing in the morning."

>You give a nod of appreciation, then let the comfortable silence fall in the room for a minute before your stepmother speaks again

>"You brought Blackfyre to us."

>You nod, with pride this time

>"We should keep it, is important." Rhaenyra suggested "After the words I could give it to Jacaerys, he is the prince of Dragonstone now, or give-"

>You squeeze her hand a little tighter, wanting her to stop speaking but not wanting to be so rude as to interrupt her again. She does as you wish

>"If your grace allows it... I want Blackfyre."

>Her violet eyes widen slightly, then she realizes what she was saying, and feels a pang of shame, she is being actively usurped because she is a woman, and she was now not even thinking of the girl who brought the sword to be the one to wield it

>"Do you know how to use it?" Rhaenyra still needed to ask

>"Some basic moves, but I can learn." You said, a little bashful to have made such a request when you are not too dexterous with the weapon

>"Then is yours, Y/N"

>The conversation continued, you tried to tell her as much as you knew, which was not too much, and she listened and even asked for your advice in some things, perhaps she did it just to make you feel heard, but you accepted it and thanked for it

>Your eyelids were growing too heavy for your own good, and your step-mother left you alone

>You slept with relative ease, your feelings being no true match for your physical exhaustion

>The next days, you familiarized yourself with the atmosphere, it was similar to the keep, rushed and tense, but it seemed less dangerous, it didn't keep you on your toes like the capital did

>You trained with the sword, most days you were alone with the master of arms, but other days, Jacaerys joined you. He was a great swordsman, and you knew tou shouldn't compare to him, but you did, you felt inadequate, you felt like you used the threat of war as a distraction to avoid feeling upset, sad and conflicted for what your own family did to you

>Rhaenyra summoned you, she was seating in the council's table, but she was alone with Jace

>she acknowledged your presence, then spoke, apparently continuing a previous thread of conversations

>"It will be short, it is merely diplomatic. But Starks keep their oaths, you will ideally not be met with overbearing resistance, you have to know how to bargain properly."

>Jace nodded, you didn't ask about the context

>"Y/N, you surely heard. Prince Jacaerys will travel to the North, remind the northmen of the oaths they swore. You will be by his side."

>You did not see it, too preoccupied with the task at hand, but Jacaerys' eyes lit up, and it was hard to contain his smile, Rhaenyra glared at him, to not be so obvious

>You parted the next day, as one of the queen's maids braided your hair, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, and felt the determination of loyalty, albeit mixed with a knot in your stomach, the anticipation of uncertainty

>Your father was nowhere to be seen, apparently patrolling the skies

>You said goodbye to Baela, Rhaena and your step-brothers

>Lucerys was nervous, yet excited to be sent on his first mission alone, you gave him a hug and kissed his forehead

>Rhaenyra hugged you before you parted, and a whisper slipped through your lips.

>"Goodbye, mother."

[blind-alchemists]

the thing with Solas is that he's proud, and wise, and clever, and cunning, and regretful, and guilty, and honest when it'd be so much easier to lie, but while canon tells (and shows) us all of that, it doesn't tell us that the other deep-seated emotion that drives him is shame.

shame about what he did, shame about what he's going to do; shame about what he was, shame about what he is; shame about killing his friend; shame about viewing the people of the current Age as shadows; shame about not knowing better; shame about not wanting to know better; shame about a befriended/romanced Inquisitor, shame about the friends he made; shame about hiding in plain sight, shame about not telling the truth; shame about making the same mistake twice, knowing how it'll turn out; shame about his outbursts, shame about not being good enough; shame about feeling attached to the current Thedas, shame about not feeling attached enough to stop; shame about not having anything to be proud of anymore.

I was recently struggling with a scene that didn't go the way I thought it would, until I realized that neither pride nor guilt nor regret nor wariness was the the real motivation; they were just the result, the display, the cover: the real motivation was the shame.

and then everything kind of clicked into place, precisely because pride is such a focal point of Solas' character - if shame is a deep-seated emotion, it contradicts his pride, his wisdom, his intellect; if shame is a deep-seated emotion, it fuels his regret, his guilt, his determination; if shame is a deep-seated emotion, it's the one thing he's actually managed to conceal. (then again, I wonder if he's even aware that what he's feeling is shame.)

and, as I kept thinking about it, it kept making sense: to be ashamed is a grave sentence for someone like Solas, who's entire character revolves around his pride and his wisdom and his regret. he regrets enough of his mistakes to be disappointed, unsatisfied with himself, to be uncomfortable with what he's done; he's wise enough to know that he has no logical reason to feel ashamed for half of these things and yet even more reasons to feel ashamed for the other half; he's proud enough to loathe admitting to this shame. he gets wary if you poke at him, defensive if you manage to get to close to this sore spot, upset if you keep at it. his pride won't allow him to admit to his shame, and his wisdom won't allow him to not admit to it, and his shame won't allow him to speak about it, and that keeps him stuck in this vicious cycle.

[morganwrites12672]

Abandon

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After the worst fight he's ever had with his father, Sam goes to the only person he can for comfort.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: ANGST. John is a piece of shit. Arguing. Crying. Daddy issues.

A/N: Have fun crying!

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Whenever Sam had finally gotten back from visiting her, he hadn't expected Dean and John to be waiting up for him in the small living room of the motel. He awkwardly shrugged off his jacket before tossing it over the back of the couch.

He could feel his father's eyes burning into his skin. John must be pissed off about something. It seemed like Sam couldn't do anything without upsetting the older man. His good mood vanished.

"You have something you want to tell me?" John asked, and Sam just knew. He knew exactly what John meant. There was nothing else that would have his father looking this pissed.

Sam swallowed thickly, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He looked between Dean and John. John looked pissed, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. Dean looked different. He looked almost happy, he looked satisfied. A smug smirk tugged at Dean's lips.

Dean was convinced that John was going to fix everything. He thought that his father would be able to fix this. Once all of this was over, Sam would stay. Everything would work out. If only Dean didn't put so much blind trust into his father. Maybe then he would have realized what would actually happen.

"No sir."

Sam knew that his father wouldn't be satisfied with this response. No, the older man would be pissed off. Nothing Sam said would make it right. No matter what he did his father would still probably lose his shit. This was going to be an argument from Hell.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" John growled. He pulled something out of his pocket, a letter. Not just any letter though. The letter. Sam's acceptance letter for Stanford.

"How-" Sam didn't get to finish his sentence.

"You applied for Stanford," John said. It was a statement, not a question. The evidence was quite literally being gripped in John's hand.

Sam's nerves coiled in his gut, ready to explode. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. This argument was the very thing that Sam had wanted to avoid at all costs. He wasn't quite sure how he had planned to avoid it though. Telling John might have made it better rather than the older man figuring it out, or being told by someone else.

"I'm going," Sam blurted, standing up a little straighter. He wouldn't keep letting his father walk all over him. He would go to Stanford. After everything he had sacrificed for other people, he would do this for himself. Hunting could wait a few years.

"I just want to-" For the second time that night, John cut Sam off.

"Like hell you are! I won't let you abandon this family," John snapped as he stood. He slammed the letter down onto the table. He couldn't believe the way Sam was speaking. "Would you really do that? Would you really abandon your brother and I?"

"No. Dad listen, I am going to Stanford!" Sam shouted back at John. He wasn't abandoning Dean or his father. No, he was just trying to go to college.

"It's that damn whore," John sneered. It didn't matter that he was talking about his friends daughter, he was also talking about the girl who he thought had been a bad influence on Sam. "She's been putting all of these ideas into your head. She-"

It was Sam's turn to cut John off. Hearing his father talk about her that way made Sam's blood boil. He took a steadying breath. Just yelling at his father wouldn't do any good. He needed to be somewhat logical. Though, he struggled to think of anything decent to say after what he had heard his father call her.

Dean was watching everything go down. Now that he'd seen how this argument was going he might have a few regrets. He'd seen Sam and his father argue, a lot. It had never been this bad though. Hearing what his father had to say about her though, that made Dean regret everything. Being around her was the happiest Dean had ever seen his brother. He couldn't believe that his father would insult her like that. She wasn't a bad influence on Sam, not in the slightest.

"Don't call her that," Sam said through a clenched jaw. "She has done nothing wrong! It was my idea to apply for Stanford. I am not abandoning this family! I'm going to college!"

"Don't you fucking come back! If you aren't going to do the job, and be apart of this family, don't you ever come back," John snarled.

Sam's expression changed in an instant. He felt his chest tighten, panic spreading throughout his body. He knew by looking at johns face that his father wasn't kidding.

Sam grabbed his jacket, the letter from Stanford, and his laptop case before walking out the door. He had a lump in his throat as he walked down the row of motel room doors. Looking around the parking lot, he was thankful that it was empty.

"Sammy! Wait!" Dean yelled, running out of the motel room door after his younger brother. He was panicking at this point. Things weren't supposed to end like this. He couldn't believe that Sam would leave like this.

"Don't call me that," Sam snapped at his brother, not bothering to turn around. "Leave me the hell alone Dean."

The older Winchester brother stopped in his tracks. He had fucked up, everything had went wrong. It was too late now. Sam had clearly made up his mind. There was nothing Dean would be able to do to stop his brother.

Sam walked. And he just kept walking. His jacket protected him from the ice cold gushes of wind blowing. He walked towards the only place he had left to go; her house. She was his escape. He needed her, right now especially.

The disgusting words that John had spoke of her made Sam's blood boil. He walked faster. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, hiding them away from the brisk cold.

She was the best part of his day. Hearing his father call her that, and the way the older man talked about her made him sick. She deserved so much better. She didn't do anything wrong. No, the opposite. She made everything better.

The thought of her smile was only able to hinder the tears building up for so long. Sam only walked faster. His long, gangly legs could only carry him so fast though.

The walk to her house didn't take long. Sam practically ran. His eyes had long ago welled up with tears, he sniffled as he finally spotted her house. He walked up to the front porch and hesitated. It was late. What if her parents answered instead of her?

He didn't knock on the door. Instead, he sent her a quick text asking if she could open the front door for him. He prayed to anything out there that might listen to him that she was still awake. He wouldn't risk her parents coming to the door, even if he knew that they wouldn't be upset.

His tear stained cheeks glimmered in the moonlight. He wiped at his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, trying to hide some of the tears from view. However, he knew that the second she opened the door that she would know. It would be impossible for her not too.

She could take one look at Sam and read him like a god-damn book. It was nice to be understood like that. Dean and his father had never actually listened to him about anything. He felt like an outsider. He don't feel anywhere near like that around her.

His train of thought was interrupted as he heard the click of a deadbolt sliding open. The front door creaked open. Standing in the doorway, there she was. Her pajama pants hung low on her hips, exposing a small section of her waist before her tank top covered the rest of her skin up. She looked tired as hell, yet she still gave Sam a gentle smile.

She stepped aside wordlessly, letting Sam into the house. Her eye brows drew together in concern as she noticed his tear stained cheeks. As Sam stepped inside, she quickly (and quietly) shut the door. The dead bolt snapped into place.

As she turned around she noticed that Sam had already began walking to her bedroom. Her house was more like a home to Sam than any other place. He did spend a lot of time here. Not that her parents minded.

Her parents loved Sam. They had always welcomed him in with open arms. And, they ignored all of the times they caught Sam sleeping over. They just appreciated that their daughter was spending time with someone her age. Having such a an odd lifestyle made it difficult to maintain friendships.

Whenever she walked into her bedroom, Sam was already sitting on her bed. His head was titled downwards, his eyes seemed to be locked on her rug. She noticed that he had discarded his shoes and jacket already. His jacket hung on the back of her desk chair, and his shoes sat in the corner of her room.

She sat next to Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He shuddered beneath her touch. More tears burned at his eyes and he fought to keep the emotion out of his voice as he spoke

"H-he found out," Sam whispered in a fragile voice. With anyone else he would have cringed at how vulnerable he sounded. He sniffled again, trying to prevent the tears from pouring down his cheeks again.

Her heart dropped. She was suddenly wide awake. That was the worst possible thing that could happen. She still remembered how excited Sam had been to show her his acceptance letter. All of that excitement had been ruined by John.

"Oh my God. . . Sam-"

"I'm still going to S-Stanford," He looked up at her as a few tears finally escaped down his cheeks. "My dad. . . my dad told me not to come back."

She didn't hesitate before pulling him into a tight hug. It was awkward since they were both sitting down but she didn't care in the slightest. Sam broke down in her arms. Hot tears poured down his cheeks.

"It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay." Her voice was gentle, the polar opposite to how his father had spoken to him earlier.

It was moments like this that made Sam realize how lucky he was to have her. He wouldn't know what to do without her. Especially tonight. His heart has been brutally ripped apart by his father, now she would work on helping him pick up the pieces.

They were always there for each other. It was something that could be so very simple that most people didn't notice it. The way that Sam would subconsciously reach for her anytime things went South, the way she always seemed to find her way into Sam's arm after a case or fight with her parents, the way she always made sure Sam had somewhere to go.

And yet, the two had stuck with the title of best friends. Neither one of them wanted to change it much, not yet anyway. There might have been occasional thoughts that definitely weren't the kind you thought about friends though.

Her warm touch brought Sam back to the present moment. It reminded him that things didn't have to be so bad. He might have lost his father, and maybe even Dean too, but he still had her.

"You can stay here until you leave for Stanford."

Sam' head jerked up. That was months away. He had planned to- he actually didn't know what he had planned to do. He would have figured something out though. No matter how hard it was.

Sam cleared his throat, "No, I can't ask your parents to do that."

"Too bad," She retorted. "You live with us until you leave for Stanford." Her voice was firm and left no room for argument.

Her parents would understand. They always did. Even if her father and John were friends, she knew that her mother would be able to persuade her father into letting Sam stay with them. Her mother was good at doing that. Nobody could say no to that woman.

"Thank you," Sam whispered. He then rubbed his eyes, wiping away the tear streaks. It would never make sense to Sam. He couldn't believe that she cared about him this much. He was a black sheep with his family. He was the one who caused problems and didn't belong. He didn't feel that way here. He felt just as much apart of the family as she actually was.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. She kept her arms wrapped around Sam. He felt like her arms were the only thing holding him together. His own father had just kicked him out! Sam couldn't believe that Dean had shown the letter. It hurt.

None of that mattered right now. He couldn't go back in time to fix things. He had to live with everything that had just happened. He had to figure it out.

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. He could get through anything with her by his side.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

A/N: The biggest thanks to @tranquilitybasegrunge and @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles for beta reading parts of this for me!

Tag List: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @aidansloth @jaredpadonlyyyy @zeppette @moonl1ghtsworld @tranquilitybasegrunge

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[daechvvitas]

BOYFRIEND MATERIAL

how i think each member would be like as a boyfriend part one - hyung line edition

WARNINGS: mentions of daddy k ink, praise k ink, brat taming, d*ggystyle, oral, bee dee ess em, degradation

A/N: this is a mixture of sfw/nsfw. thanks for requesting, anon! minors, dni.

NAMJOON

He's the most self conscious about the songs he writes about you. You're his biggest source of inspiration, so that means he wants the lyrics to be perfect. It throws him off kilter because normally, he can write a song in one sitting. Even in an ER room. But when they're about you, it's different. He likes the challenge, though. He feels like it makes him a better writer.

He points out baby shoes and clothing to you every time you guys are at a store. He's still not sure if he wants to have a kid or not but he can't help but still find the items super fucking adorable.

He has a bit of a daddy k ink. He never thought he would been into it but the first time it slipped out of your mouth, his brain went to static and he fucked you harder than he'd ever done before.

He buys you books specifically curated to your taste. Even more, he buys himself a copy too so that he can keep up with what you like.

He talks you through sex. It's full of a lot of praise and encouragement. "Look how good you're taking me" and the sorts. He also loves hearing validation from you that it feels good and he's doing well.

He hates when the two of you argue but he physically cannot stop himself from having the last word. What can I say? The man likes to be right. And sometimes, that stubbornness can lead to huge blow outs. He always makes it up to you, though. After a cool-off period, he'll come back with calmer logic and won't rest until the situation is resolved.

SEOKJIN

He always makes you meals, even when his schedule is insane. If he has to wake up in the wee hours to have it cooked and waiting in the fridge for you, then so be it.

He's a brat tamer. And he's damn good at it. Even if you don't have a particularly submissive nature, he'll have you a whimpering, shaking mess by the end of the night. But those intense nights come with the best aftercare. He'll run you a bath, make you food, and give you a ton of cuddles.

He's insistent on doing things for you, even if it annoys you. Grabbing things from high places, opening doors... You name it. He just likes showing how much he cares about you through action.

He's the type to jokingly rile you up but then end up actually getting really mad, which leads to arguments that could have been avoided.

Unfortunately, he has a bit of the gamer boyfriend syndrome. He does not like being interrupted when he's playing his games. He is a sucker for you, though. So he's willing to free up one of his hands to give you the attention you so desperately want. And no, he doesn't plan on muting his mic so you better keep those moans quiet.

He takes personal offense if he's not your bias or if you rocking any BT21 character that isn't RJ. He'll definitely give you a playful but bombastic side eye until you either change or admit that he is the only option to be your bias.

YOONGI

He wouldn't consider himself a 'romantic' but he shows that he cares through quality time. Even if you're just in the living room watching a show, he'll always quietly sit next to you. Just so you know he's always there.

Alternatively, he loves when you do the same. His genius lab is a sacred place that even his members don't dare to enter unless it's for work. But for you? It's an open door policy. Your presence motivates him more than it distracts him.

Speaking of his studio, the two of you have definitely fucked there. Multiple times. The first time it happened was just sort of a spur of the moment type of things but now, you live to bend over for him, chest pressed against the knobs of his music equipment as he thrusts into you.

He shares his food with you without any complaints or annoyance. If he notices you want a taste of whatever he has, he immediately offers it to you. Not even just a bite, either. He'll give you the whole thing.

He likes taking his time with you. There's a lot of foreplay where the tongue technology comes in hand. He loves to lick you, taste you, make you fall apart with just his mouth.

He prefers dates at home over dates out of the house, but he'll indulge you if you really want a night out. However, his ideal night would be cooking you both dinner, plenty of whiskey, and of course, you.

HOSEOK

Prepare to be touched all the time. Not even just sexually (though we'll get to that). He's just a very touchy feely boyfriend. Cheek kisses, hugs from behind, gripping your thigh. He just wants to feel your skin against his.

He loves sharing tea with you. He remembers every single piece of gossip you tell him, even if he doesn't know the parties involved, and enthusiastically picks whatever side you're on. In return, he always keeps you updated on the drama and insanity of his members' lives. There's really no secrets between you both.

He's a dom, for sure. When it's just the two of you behind closed doors, he feels comfortable enough to strip back the sunshine side and get to play with the darker side of him without judgement. He also finds it so hot that you trust him enough to go on wilder extremes together — tying you up, blindfolding you, spanking you. He craves having control over you.

His favorite form of aftercare is giving you a massage. Typically, he has you folded up like a pretzel as he has his way with you. So making sure your body is taken care of afterwards is of utmost importance. As he massages you, he likes to sweetly shower you with compliments just so you know that any degradation that occurred during sex does not hold true in real life.

He's the first to like your social media posts. Yes, he has notifications on just to make sure he's the first. It could be a selfie or a random picture of the sky and he's the first on the post, showering you with emojis.

Sometimes, he needs personal space. You didn't do anything wrong. But when things get hard at work or overwhelming in his personal life, he has the tendency to retract instead of engage. He doesn't ever have the heart to tell you that but you can tell by the short answers or less enthused interactions. The best thing you can do is give him that space to work through his head.

[grimm-writings]

on my hands and knees begging you to write that legally blonde idea… obsessed with the idea of reader thinking chil wants to get back w his ex vs chil just wanting to be friends and crushing hard on reader

take it like a man!

…ft! chilchuck x fem! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is into fashion

…wc! 2294

…notes! chilchuck tims and emmett forrest are the same to me (my type). this is so incredibly self indulgent thank you for enabling me anon.  a lot of dialogue is paraphrased from the song/show, such is the way of songfics. enjoy!

Oh, how Chilchuck wished he could say no to you.

He didn’t know what he was expecting from you and Marcille’s ‘sweep your wife off her feet operation’, otherwise shortened to SYWOHF which Chilchuck pointed out was an awful name for a campaign.  You elected to ignore him.

In actuality, he really wanted to just do this his own way.  What he had in mind was just to pay a visit and talk things through.  As those with a little womanly touch, you and Marcille knew that wouldn’t be enough.  Chilchuck had to prove he was serious about this – that he really wanted his wife back in his life!

Seeing how excited you were showing off your step by step plan… he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he really just wanted to remain friends with her.

So, here he is.  Having his eyes covered by your hands as you guide him through the busy streets of… who knows where.

“Almost there,” your breathless though excited voice reaches his ears, “I promise!”

You finally slow to a stop, and Chilchuck also gets the chance to speak about his thoughts on this.  Simply being, “this is pointless.  We don’t need to be doing all this.”

Scoffing, you fold your arms.  “Don’t be like that!  A conversation isn’t the only way to win her over.”

“No,” Chilchuck starts, “but it would sure make me look desperate!”  He swats your hands off and away from his face.  His back is turned away from the building you’re arguing outside of, not even bothering to see what you’re doing.

You frown.  Chilchuck doesn’t easily get so frustrated with you.  That’s what people usually say – if anyone can convince him to do anything, it’d be you.  “Chil,” you try to appeal.  You even try physically reaching out, hand hovering over his shoulder.  “Work with me here.  We can do this in a way that will prove yourself, and let her know you’ve changed.  For the better.”

Chilchuck listens to you, sparing you a sidelong glance as you go on with your speech.  “You make it sound like we’re in some romance novel.  This isn’t ‘for the better’ I just want to talk to her.”

“No you don’t, you want her back in your life!”

“Well…!”  Chilchuck stutters at how blunt your words are.  You are way too observant for your own good.  He never knows how to talk to you cooly when you do this.  “Well, of course I do!  And I can do that by slowly building up trust between us again, without rushing anyone.”

Where Chilchuck expects begging to follow through with your scheme, you simply look at him with a cold expression– colder than he’s ever seen you wear.  “So you have the chance to run away again if things get too much?  Sacrificing your integrity?”

You’re both lucky this little nook in the streets was away from most crowds.  Save for the passersby' conversations, the silence would have been strife with weight.  Chilchuck opens his mouth, then closes it again.  He repeats the action, and tries to use his hands to communicate his thoughts to no avail.

He settles for turning away from you in angered shame, fists balled at his sides and tips of his ears growing red.  “...I guess.”

You smile, knowing you have swayed the half-foot to your side.  Even in the dungeon, your debates went this way.  Chilchuck would present a cynical, logical approach whilst you were more realistic – something your appearance doesn’t really match with.  Chilchuck thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not like he’d say that to your face.

Hearing your confident hum, Chilchuck sighs and turns back to you.  “Why do you always have to be right?”  He complains about this constantly.  You always seem to one-up him in ways he can never prepare for.

“I don’t have to be,” your attitude and voice returns to its usual, jovial form, “when I’m with you, I just am!”

You reach over to Chilchuck once more right as he’s about to make a scathing comment back at you.  His face is a bit too close for comfort with a wooden door, an entrance somewhere.

“You trust me to help you impress your wife, don’t you?”  You ask, with a clear sense of finality.

Chilchuck doesn’t think he has much of a choice in the matter.  “...Of course,” he responds honestly but you can hear his voice waver.

He can practically sense your smile from behind.  “Then don’t stop now.”

You wish you could say without a spot of bias that you were 100% supporting the operation at hand.  In actuality, it came with a heavy sacrifice of your own feelings remaining unsaid.  Of course you just had to fall for the semi-married man.  You have already tried to move on, from distracting yourself with an operation like this, to asking Izutsumi to pummel your head with a rock (which she was very close to doing).

This will have to do.

It was like magic, how the environment of the building interior rushes through you.  Chilchuck even feels it, his large eyes blinking as he drinks in the sight.

“...Where are we?” he asks, almost dreamily.  A beautiful ceiling lamp shines onto coloured wallpaper.  The scent reminds him of the kind of perfume Marcille would use.  It’s strangely… alluring.

You lean your face over Chilchuck’s shoulder.  “Oh, nothing much.  Just the most trendy half-foot exclusive clothing store in Kahka Brud.”  You can easily sense Chilchuck’s shock from this position – amusing you greatly.  “Here.”

You stand up behind Chilchuck again, massaging his shoulders.  “Just take a deep breath, and let it sink in.  We’ll be here for a bit so get used to the smells and lights.  Feel how it draws you in.”

“I’m feelin’ it alright,” Chilchuck responds, moreso about how he has no idea what convinces people to remain in these environments for so long without feeling overstimulated.

He already feels hot with how you’re handling him.

You move around so you’re in front of Chilchuck.  “Listen, I know this can be… overwhelming,” you start, giving the understatement of the century, “but think about who you’re doing this for.  Swallow your pride and… pick out anything you think is nice.  I’ll do the same.”

Chilchuck nods, about to set off, but not before you take his face, squishing his cheeks a comedic amount so he’s forced to pout and look you in the eye.

“Promise me you won’t run.  Take it like a man, alright?”

You let him go, and Chilchuck swears the heat on his body is from the stuffy maze of clothes stalls.  As he navigates the first selection of half-foot men’s clothes he sees, he tries to ignore the thoughts that seem to non-stop course through his brain.

He’s largely unsuccessful.

What are you getting out of this?  Some sort of second-hand pride at bringing together two estranged lovers?  Wait ‘til you find out the truth – that those aren’t where his true feelings lie.  Why can’t you leave well enough alone?

Why does he let you string him along with every plan you come up with?

You arrive back with a couple of blazer–pants combos, calling out Chilchuck’s name as you do so.  Damn, you sure are speeding through the process.

���So, I took the liberty of picking some of the more fancy kinds of suits.”  You hold them up in your arms.  “Whaddya think?”

“Suits,” Chilchuck repeats dryly, in disbelief of how far you’re taking the idea of impressing a woman.  He looks through each of the three upon seeing your determined expression.

He points at the pale pink option.  “Absolutely not.”

He gestures to the navy one with a thinner fabric.  “I like this one.”

Finally, he only spares at a glance at the creatively patterned suit.  “I think I’d sooner be fed to wargs than be seen in that.”

You assemble each of the selections in order of preference.  You muse, “I see, I see…  Something refined but masculine.  Much better than your ‘tattered chic’ look.  Like an old book forever trapped in a library.”

Chilchuck furrows his brow as you run off again.  “Wh– What’s that supposed to mean, jerk?!”

He sighs.  He watches you as you make a few more choices again, before Chilchuck tries to distract himself looking at ties.  He’s come this far.  He should trust in your instinct.  It hasn’t failed him– or anyone yet.

So what the Hell?

Before Chilchuck knows it, he’s handed the acutely sized down, perfect combination of blazer and pants, and he’s stuffed inside a changing room.  He’s instructed to change into the whole thing.

As he does so, you can’t help but pace.  This is it.  This is the winning goal to help him impress his old flame.  It’ll be like an academy romance – falling in love all over again like you’re teenagers.  You sigh longingly.  If only you can be there, in her place.

“You’re gonna look great!”  You converse with Chilchuck through the curtain.  “You’ll become a whole new man, promise!  You’ll bloom like a rose!”

“It’s just clothes,” Chilchuck, in his usual cynicism, calls back.

You return with a raspberry.  “Don’t be such a Debbie-downer.”

“Wow.  No one’s called me that since grade school.”

“Maybe not to your face.”

Even without looking at him, you can imagine the scoff and eye roll he must be giving you, interrupted by a small choke on his own spit.  “Is this the price?”

“Ignore that!” You quickly respond.  “It’s my treat!  Come out, come out, I wanna see you!”

Better to gloss over the fact you worked hard to do this for Chilchuck with a high budget.  No doubt he’d tease you or outright refuse it.  You open the curtain and pull Chilchuck out by his arm.  He quickly adjusts himself and you both stand in front of the wall length mirror.

“...Woah.”

It’s said naturally in sync.  Both of you hardly recognise the brunette half-foot in the form fitting suit and tie.  With a bit of hair maintenance and more time to actually make himself look presentable… 

“I look like Laios on a good day,” Chilchuck jokes.

Your breath caught in your throat, you can only let out, “y-yeah.”

You pray he doesn’t notice how enthralled you are in his appearance, if slightly ungroomed.

Once the moment passes, Chilchuck makes himself comfortable by loosening his tie and undoing a button or two, then putting his arms where they usually are behind his neck.  “But it’s just me.”

Without hesitation, you find yourself speaking without meaning to.  “Is that not the best part?”

Chilchuck looks at you in confusion.  “What?”

“I-I mean…” you trail off.  You look nervous.  That’s rare for you.  Usually you always had something to say.  Now you look like you’re trying to figure out how to word something in a specific way.  Why?

You move behind Chilchuck to smooth down some of his hair.  “You may look more charming but… this is all you.  Your choices, your style…  It reflects who you are on the inside.  That’s the magic of fashion.”

Chilchuck laughs a little, mostly at his own cluelessness.  He can’t believe he’s underestimated a simple shopping trip.  “Thank you,” he says, with complete sincerity.

“No.”  You shake your head.  “This is not a gift.  I’m just… This is me thanking you for how you let me get away with so much.”

Your hands land on his shoulders, and Chilchuck’s fingers find their way to interlace with yours.  For just a few more moments, you look at yourselves in the mirror.

Catching yourself, you step away from the situation – from him.  “Well?  Come on, you need to buy this.  I’d want to marry you if you took me out looking like this!”

The half-foot flushes red.  You got to know what you’re doing to him.  “That’s not really—”

“Chilchuck.  Please.”  You place your hands on your hips, looking dead serious.  “You look hot.”

…Well, he can’t argue with you.  If you really think that, then who is he to deny it?

“Fine.  I’ll get it.”

You smile that cocky grin Chilchuck has grown to love.  “That’s our man.”

Leaving the shop was like a breath of fresh, unperfumed air.  Chilchuck would nearly fall to his knees and start kissing the ground if he paid too much attention to how his legs ached.  The post shopping trip fatigue is really hitting him.

“I enjoyed this,” he however admits.  “Maybe women are onto something when it comes to clothes.”

“That’s why you should always listen to whenever a woman is speaking,” you wisely advise, making Chilchuck nod with a slight snort.

He stops at a crossroads, where you go back to his place, and he goes back to his.  “You can trust that I will now.”

“Good.”  You sigh in relief knowing your venture was successful.  Maybe too successful, because now you may lose him.

Chilchuck keeps looking at you with affection.  You can’t say you haven’t noticed how he keeps sparing you glances, mostly throughout the shopping trip.  Maybe he has warmed up to you?

Still, neither of you can stop yourselves at this point.

You approach, and for a hopeful second, Chilchuck tilts his head a bit to the left, eyelids lowering and leaning into you.  Your arms wrap around his middle.

Your face nuzzles into his neck as you hug the man tight.  Chilchuck is still for a few seconds.  A hug.  Right.  Of course you’d want a hug…  He responds in kind.

“See you soon, Chil. I wish you luck.”

“Y-Yeah.  Luck with the lady.”

Your happiness comes with a heavy sacrifice of Chilchuck’s feelings remaining unsaid.

He’ll take it like a man.

[softtdaisy]

THE OTHER ONE - CHARLES LECLERC

DESCRIPTION I What are you supposed to do when your heart is broken and your brother falls for the woman you love?

PAIRING I Charles Leclerc × female!reader

WORDS COUNT I 3,8k

A/N I Apparently I can write only sad stories?? I’m sorry for the angst (but i’mp actually quite proud of it) 🥺

Charles was the one who meet you first.

He noticed you at the beginning of the weekend. There were always some new faces when the new season starts. And he’s always so focus on Ferrari and what he had to do, that he doesn’t always see them all during in Bahrain.

But he saw you. He could use the excuse that, because you were a new member of the media team, it was hard to miss your presence. Specially since you were there as a photographer and, logically, had to take pictures of each driver for the F1 medias. Yeah, he could say that. Even if it wasn’t true.

Truth was that Charles saw you immediately when he arrived at the paddock. You could have been anybody: a driver’s friend, a journalist from the country, an influencer invented for the event. He didn’t matter. He saw you. You and your beautiful smile. It was the first thing he noticed. You were talking with Pierre, who was doing his little charm number on you, and of course you were smiling.

He could have stayed a few more minutes like that, just looking at you. Then Pierre turned around and noticed him. “Ah Charles! Come here!” he spoke loudly. Charles rolled his eyes from the non-so discreet attitude. He walked to you and after shaking Pierre’s hand, he turned to you. And as he could expect, you were even more beautiful than he imagined.

“Let me introduce you to [y/n]” Pierre said, like he was the one entitled to presented you to everyone. “She’s the new photographer, she’ll follow us all around the season!” He had that smile that was speaking for his mind. And Charles knew he wasn’t the only one finding you attractive.

“I’ll try to be as discreet as possible! You won’t even notice me!” you added with a soft and small laugh. You really didn’t want to bother the drivers, speacially not on your first weekend. The rest of the season would be a mess and you didn’t need that kind of stress. You already knew that Pierre was going to make sure you felt integrated in this world. You didn’t expect Charles to react the same.

Like he didn’t even notice it, he put a hand on your arm. “Don’t. It’ll be a pleasure to see you.” It was sincere and honest; you both knew it. You all knew it, technically because Pierre heard it too. But what his friend noticed that you didn’t, was the message behind it. Charles had laid his eyes on you and wasn’t ready to take them off.

You didn’t see him much during the weekend. Expect for the Sunday after party where he invited you. To celebrate his first victory of the season.

You thought it would be a good way to meet the other drivers, socialize with the teams, meet some new people. Turns out, even though you did make some new friends, you mainly discovered Charles. Sharing his bed that night really helped getting to know him better.

“I can’t stop looking at you” Charles told you at some point during the party. You found it crazy that out of all the people there, you were the one he wanted to spend his celebration party with. You both had drink: enough to find the courage the flirt, but not too much to appreciate everything that was happening. But drink or not, there was the same intensity in the Monegasque’s eyes that you saw when you met him. You didn’t want that to stop.

So you put a hand on his arm, just like he did with you the other day, and whispered in his ear “Don’t.”

He wanted until you were in his bedroom to kiss you, to avoid some unwanted pictures on social medias that would give proof to the rumors. But then, he never stopped. Your lips almost hurt when you went to sleep from all the kisses you got from him. It was passionate, like you both needed to feel each other to feel alive. You were both in places in your life where you were afraid of love and feeling unsatisfied my anything. This moment was like a fire that only you two together could keep alive.

You made a silent agreement that this was it was going to be with you. It sounded logical: you both had a magical moment and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why would you even consider not doing it again?

There was just one thing none of you thought about.

“Oh, Charles! J’ai une question. I have a question Do you know the new photographer? I mean, you do, I saw you with her at your party two weeks ago. But…do you know her?”

In any other situation, Charles would have laugh at his baby brother way of speaking his thoughts. Arthur always acted like he was telling things just the way they were coming in his mind, no matter if it makes sense or not. So yeah, he would have laughed. If Arthur wasn’t talking about you.

“I kinda know her yeah, why?” he asked. It was only Thursday, the medias day, so the paddock was pretty calm. And the two brothers decided to take advantage of that time together to discuss the beginning of the season around a drink. But the season wasn’t the subject anymore. Charles was glad he could hide his suspicious look behind his sunglasses. He was scared about how the conversation might turned out. He had every right to do so.

“I don’t know.” Arthur shrugged. “I find her cute…” he had this angelic and sweet smile. Like he was already daydreaming about you. She’s mine Charles wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Because you weren’t technically his. Because he was a good brother. Because Arthur was a better man than he was, right now.

So, when he saw you coming over them, Charles called you. “I wanted you to meet Arthur.” He simply said. You look at him with confusion. Technically, you did know about Arthur Leclerc, so it wasn’t a surprise to see him. What you didn’t understand, was Charles’ expression, almost like he was torn between letting you meet his brother and wanting to keep you for himself. “Arthur, this is [y/n].”

This was the first step of his runaway. You were simply you. Nothing attached to him. Just you.

Charles then found some excuses to leave the two of you alone.

That was the last time you saw him this weekend.

“Je suis peut-être con“  

“You really doubt that?” Charles answered with a laugh, to which Pierre replied with a hit in his shoulder. The season was going on and it was already the sixth race, in Italy. Without a surprise, Ferrari had rented a beautiful and very luxurious hotel for the team. One with a beautiful pool that Pierre decided to take advantage of as “the best friend”. So they were now hanging out in the massively beautiful rooftop after swimming (no, competing), enjoying the view. Or, enjoying it before seeing what was really happening down there.

“So, I was saying,” Pierre started again “I might be stupid, but didn’t have a thing for [y/n]?”

Charles didn’t expect this question. He was quite surprised, to say the least, since nobody seemed to talk about you around him. Not like a secret agreement, simply that even if the drivers liked you, they were talking about you all the time. That made sense. And the few people that knew Charles got along with you in the first place were Arthur and Pierre.

More than that, Charles stopped talking to you after you met Arthur. It was, this time, a secret agreement he made…with himself. He wanted you to be happy and he knew his brother. He would be the best man for you. During of his sleepless night that he used to compose a new song, Charles found a good comparison.

You were the sun, a beautiful and happy person that bring joy to everyone that meet you.

Arthur was quite like that too, in a funnier way. If you make people smile, he makes people laugh. You made a perfect duo.

Charles, however, felt like the moon. He felt empty most of the time, like he was living his life in a low brightness. His darkness would hide your light. That was how he felt.

“Why you’re asking me that suddenly?” he finally asked Pierre. There was no reason for him to bring you up like this. He thought so. Until Pierre pointed to a couple in the hotel’s yard.

“I just want to know why she is with Arthur right now.” Charles looked down and his friend was right. You were right there, holding with Arthur while he was probably telling you about his day and some other F2 stories.

Did he hate that sight? Yes. But he caused it. So, in some way, deep down, he felt kind of proud that his plan was working. “They are better together” he shrugged, turning around so he was facing the pool instead of the yard. He heard Pierre’s little laugh. A surprised and judgmental one. “What?”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes.” He’s better than me. He’s a good lover, he knows how to keep his relationship clean and lovely. I’m just good at breaking hearts. The others and mine too. But he didn’t say more. With a simple look, Pierre knew it was better to change the subject than insist on it. Even if, as his best friend, he felt Charles was doing a mistake.

But it wasn’t that day that Charles felt like a mistake. It was the one in Canada.

He did his worst qualification of the season here. He didn’t even left Q1 which was a shame and the medias were already wondering if Charles was reader to fight for the rest of the championship when he was doing mistakes like that. He hated that. He hated the treatment he was getting every time he was making a stupid and meaningless mistake. He knew he would do his best for the race. He knew that, even if he ends up 10, he will still be leading.

But tonight, he felt like a stupid and idiot mess. Worse, he knew that the Formula 2 wasn’t here this weekend. Arthur wasn’t there.

This explained why he allowed himself to knock on your door, at 10 pm.

You didn’t expect any visitor. It wasn’t like anybody would come see you at night anyway. The only person you thought would be happy to see wasn’t even in the country.

And lastly, Charles was certainly not the one you expect to see when you opened the door.

But here he was, in his oversized Ferrari sweater, with his hair messy like he’s playing or pull them, and such a sad and broken expression you’ve never seen on anybody before. You knew the reason behind it. You were there. You saw it all: the bad qualification and his reaction afterwards. How he jumped from his car and went to hide for a good twenty minutes. How he did half the interviews he was supposed to do.

You wanted to run to him. It killed you to see him this sad and defenseless. Nothing mattered, not the way he ghosted you nor that you were seeing his brother. You wanted to comfort Charles but felt like it wasn’t your role.

Turned out that, maybe, it was yours in the end.

“Come in” you simply said, moving just enough to let him pass. Your room was pretty identical to his. Charles could have walked with his eyes closed he would have found your bed. He sat like he has been waiting to reach this destination for hours now. And somehow, it was the truth. He was looking for a place where he wouldn’t be alone nor judged. He couldn’t stay with the other drivers; competition was always coming first. He had no one but you.

God, he wished he truly had you.

You didn’t hesitate and ran to sit next to him. As soon as you put your arm around his shoulder, he cuddled against you. You never imagined Charles being this broken. You couldn’t imagine the amount of things that accumulate in his mind and heart to make him feel this…shattered. “I’m so tired of all this.” He whispered and you rocked him slowly, trying to calm him down. “I shouldn’t even be there.”

“Why?” you had a small voice, like you were too scared to even ask. And when Charles looked at you in the eyes, it was almost like everything in him was screaming his brother’s name. Of course. It wasn’t fair for Arthur. But…”we’re not together.” You saw the frown on his face and couldn’t resist caressing it with your thumb to relax him. “We’re taking things slowly, so we’re not official dating.”

You both had your reasons. Arthur had broken up with his last girlfriend not so long ago and didn’t want to commit into a new relationship too fast. Too scared of being heartbroken again. And you, besides the new job and its obligation, you still had Charles in mind. Or, more exactly, was still frustrated by how everything ended. How could you love Arthur with your whole heart if you still had his brother living there?

It was all Charles needed for tonight. As soon as he knew he wasn’t doing the worst thing he could ever imagine, he started leaning towards you. You could feel his hand slowly coming to your neck, his fingers brushing your skin softly. His lips were just a few millimeters away from yours, you could feel his breath against it, when you spoke. “Don’t do that.” You whispered.

“Why?” his voice was shaking, it was almost a cry. Almost like a junkie who needs his drugs, Charles needed to feel you. Again.

You brought a hand to his face and brush his cheek with so much love that he would love to keep that forever with him. “You will regret it in the morning…” and that was when it became obvious to him. That you were way too good for him.

You could have said, we will regret it. But you didn’t. You thought about Charles’ feelings first. How he would never forgive himself for betraying in baby brother even if you weren’t dating. How he let himself taste you tonight he won’t ever be able to contain himself. It didn’t matter how you feel about that. What matter to you was him.

So, he simply nodded, brushing having a tear he didn’t realize was there until it fell on his lips and took a step back. You keep a hand on his arm, to make sure he wouldn’t leave with a broken heart. Wouldn’t do anything too stupid. After a few minutes, you both laid on your bed, facing the ceiling.

You stayed like that, in complete silent, for a long time. “You chose the right Leclerc.” He had a sad laugh that you wished you never heard. “Arthur has a pure heart.”

You turned your head to face him, even though he wasn’t ready to move. Facing you would mean facing his problems. And it didn’t want that. Not right now. “And you don’t?”

“My heart is so broken. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost some pieces in the way. I don’t even know how to love properly. That’s why you should be with him. He knows how.”

You didn’t add anything. Charles didn’t someone to prove him wrong. He needed you to listen to him and to understand how he felt. He needed someone to know about that, so he didn’t have to live with that by himself. Even though you were sure he was able to love, you didn’t correct him. In silence, you prayed he would one day feel able to love again. Properly.

Even if it’s not with you.

What Charles didn’t say, was that he knew it was his last chance to have you. If he told Arthur that he was in love with you, his brother would let you go. Without a single doubt. But what kind of big brother would he be to break Arthur’s heart just for his own pleasure?

At least, in this scenario, nobody was asking anything to anyone. Charles’ sacrificing his love life was his own choice. He could only blame himself for letting you go.

He fell asleep on your bed that night and you let him. When you woke up the next morning he had already left. No notes. Nothing. All you got was a small smile when you saw him in the paddock. The only thank you for being here you needed.

The only one you got for the rest of the season.

A few days after that race, when you saw Arthur again, he decided to post a picture of you two together. “I know we take our time but being away from you made me realize that I love you more than I thought.”  He told you. You would have been a fool to not accept such a pure love. So, you accepted it. You accepted Arthur’s pure heart.

For most of the season, you didn’t talk much with Charles expect when you both had to: when you were in the same room, and you didn’t want to look like you hated each other. It wasn’t hard to imagine to kind of rumors you would get if you weren’t talking with your brother-in-law. Or simply when you had to take pictures of him. You would talk about the race, mostly. Charles never felt like he had the right to ask you any questions about your life anymore.

You had to wait until October to finally see him outside of the circuit. And it was for his and Arthur’s birthday. It was easier for their family to celebrate it during the same weekend since their birthday were just two days apart.

As Arthur’s girlfriend, you had to be there. You didn’t even think about missing it. Since your night with Charles, you slowly let him leave your heart so you could all of it to Arthur. It wasn’t easy and there were some lonely nights where you thought about that choice. But you’ve been dating the younger for months now and it was too late to change it.

It wasn’t easy being there and seeing Charles. He looked healthier than he did earlier this year, smiling and laughing with his friends and family. He looked gorgeous. Looking at him made you realize that you still hadn’t finish the process of forgetting about him. But the real question was, would you ever forget totally about Charles?

At some point during the night, you noticed him being alone in their family garden while everyone was having fun inside. It didn’t matter if it was your heart screaming to go see him or your empathy that didn’t want to leave him alone. You just couldn’t see him like that and do nothing. “I’ll be right back.” You said to Arthur, kissing his cheek before going outside. That man was so sweet and innocent he probably just assumed you wanted to make sure his brother was fine. Arthur never learnt about your past, or whatever happened between you and Charles. And he never will.

“What a way to enjoy your birthday.” You told Charles once you were near him. He turned around to look at you and forgot how to breath for a good second. Knowing you were there was hard Knowing you were here for his brother first was harder. But seeing you coming to him, being that beautiful, was awful.  

But he still offered you a smile, the same he gave you all these past months when he saw you. A happy but broken one. “I just needed some time alone.”

“Oh.” You replied, already taking a step back. But Charles took your hand without a single hesitation. He didn’t need to say any words. He wanted you here.

So, you stayed there, watching the sky and the stars in totally silence. It reminded you of the night he came to your hotel room. There was some peace in the silence.

But there was another reason for you coming to see him outside, expect for the heartbreak it caused you to see him alone at his own birthday party. You were still wondering if it was a good idea or the worst you could ever had. But you thought it was a good way to end things in a good way. To make sure you would both be able to move on from the obvious attraction you had for each other.

You slowly took the gift that was hiding in your jacket and gave it to him. Charles turned his head to look at you, frowning. “It’s not a real gift. I mean, it is. But there is another one waiting for you inside. This one…it’s a personal one I couldn’t give in front of each other.” You explained. You almost ran away to not see his reaction. You thought it was stupid and cliché. But you also needed to know how he felt about that.

Charles opened it with confusion. He didn’t expect you to give a gift at all. Not after the mess he created in your life. But he took it. And you heard something you didn’t think you would hear again so soon. “You’re offering me…some glue?” he asked, laughing. A sweet and innocent laugh.

“Look more closely.”

He was still laughing, turning the glue over and over until he saw it. You added your own label on it. It was written “glue for broken hearts.” His laugh stopped. But his smile didn’t disappear.

“I want to see you happy one day, Charles. I want to see you in love.” You said, looking at him in the eyes to mark every word. “I thought…I wished I could have been the girl that help you healing your broken heart. Collecting the pieces and making it full again. But I couldn’t force you. So, promise me that one day, you’ll accept to let someone open that glue and make you a happy man.”

At first, Charles didn’t say anything.

He let himself imaging how life would have been if you didn’t meet Arthur. If his brother didn’t fall for you too. If Charles wasn’t too scared to fight for you. If he had found the strength to speak his mind. If he had look at you in the eyes that night in Canada and told you how much he loved you. Would you by his arm right now? Would he be the one you helped blowing the candles with? Would he be the one you would kiss before a race to wish him luck? Maybe. But you weren’t.

And you won’t ever be.

So, despite the tears growing his eyes, Charles put a small smile on his face and took you in his arms. He whispered in your ear: “I promise.”

[artdcnaldson]

thinking so many thoughts about stanford!art who has a thing for humping pillows for comfort/relief.

patrick teaching him to jerk off created a straight up monster, he’s fucking insatiable after that first time. he discovers that he really enjoys humping things pretty quickly, his palm, his bed, and especially his pillows. he’s got an… active imagination - he’s no stranger to wet dreams and waking up with sticky boxers, so the next logical step is to sleep with a pillow between his legs, his dick nestled up against it so he can roll his hips and rut into it in his sleep. sometimes he doesn’t even do it strictly to get off, it just becomes a comforting habit. after a long day, he’ll curl up in bed and hump his pillow, maybe even suck on the corner of it to keep his mouth occupied too.

it was never a problem until he started dating you. he’d never shared a bed so small with someone before. sure, he and patrick would push their beds together every time they were put up in some shitty hotel for tournaments but that was more space!! and patrick didn’t care, he’d just make some smug comment about art having to marry his pillow after defiling it and turn over to pass out for the night.

the first few times you sleep over in his dorm room, he insists on being a gentleman and taking the floor, but eventually he runs out of reasons to stay out of bed with you. he tries to resist, he really does, it’s just that your ass is so close and your skin is so soft and you smell so good and and… he just breaks. he rolls his hips into yours once, twice, then all of a sudden he’s pawing at your hips and your boobs, rutting his dick against your ass and whimpering out little apologies.

“m’sorry, m’sorry— can’t help it, needed it— needed you so bad,” he’s practically in tears by the time you’re awake enough to register what’s happening. not that you’re opposed. it’s actually kinda cute how quickly he got so desperate and how when you shush him, tell him it’s okay, take what he needs, he immediately calms down.

he becomes so docile, like every thought in his head left the second you gave him permission to keep humping your ass. all he can do is whimper and whine as you grind back against him. when he cums he whispers a series of garbled out, “thankyouthankyouthankyou”s and buries his face in the back of your neck before falling into the deepest sleep you think you’ve ever seen.

you fall asleep with a throbbing pussy and more than a few questions about what the fuck just happened.

the next morning he stumbles through explaining his pillow humping habit, how it clears his head, brings him comfort, and makes him cum incredibly hard.

“it’s stupid, really, i’ve just been doing it for so long,” he says, his eyes sheepishly avoiding yours.

you can see the guilt spiral he’s thrown himself down written all over his face. he looks like he’s about to panic and apologize again when you finally speak up, “come to me next time.”

“what?”

you move closer to him and run a hand through his hair gently before gripping it at the base of his neck, tight enough that his eyes roll back and his hips jerk forward of their own volition.

“next time you need to get out of your pretty little head, don’t use your pillow. i’ll take care of you so much better.”

so from then on, whenever art has a bad day or needs to empty his head (cough and his balls) he comes to you instead of his pillow.

i have… too many thoughts about this mf man so i started with a tame one akshsk hopefully this wasn’t too long and rambled !!

-first time sending an ask so if i send again ill be 🎀 if that’s cool <3

Hnnhnggggg poor baby :(( also hiii!! I love this and ur brain is amazing

god he just can’t help it. You’re so warm, so soft. He gets so hard and he just starts rubbing against you out of habit, but it feels too nice. He feels bad when he wakes you up :(((

But he needs it so bad, needs to feel it, needs to cum :((( and he falls asleep so hard after— drooling and all heavy where he’s practically crushing you :((((

And maybe you make him do it again, let you watch how he fucks his pillow when he’s had a long day. It’s too cute of a habit to kill entirely, right?

[radiant-reid]

The Right Person

request:

things spencer would say to his ex who’s his ex but not really his ex bc their hearts always belong to the other but is actually his ex bc they called it quits but just bc it’s over doesn’t mean it’s really over cuz he’s just: last slide

Summary: Right person, wrong time... at least until there's a part two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst, sort of)

Content Warning: a tiny spicy moment

Word Count: 3.3k

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Spencer has always jumped into things too quickly. It's the cocktail of being a romantic, coming from a broken home, failing with most social relationships, and the desperate need for a family.

So when Y/n came along, all smiles and beauty, he moved too fast. Fell is probably a more accurate verb. He fell in love so quickly without any logic that he couldn't help proposing a year in and marrying her six months later.

She offered him support and unconditional love. And for the first time in a tough five years in the FBI, he felt like the world wasn't completely terrible.

The whirlwind relationship would have been much better if taken slowly. It might have even worked out. With their fast pace, neither of them could keep up and after four years, trying to make it work wasn't worth it. The therapy, fights, and long periods without speaking wasted time and drained them both emotionally.

It was like fire. Hot and heavy or warm and comforting, but they were destined for a burn.

Sure, they loved each other more than anything, and they would forever argue that they're soulmates and the timing was at fault.

When Beatrice was nine months old, it was clear things wouldn't, so for her sake, Spencer moved out, the fighting stopped, and they could be friends.

For three months, they've been doing well with their co-parenting routine. Since Spencer had spent so much time away during their marriage, Y/n didn't have to get over the feeling of loss.

Maybe some of that could be accounted for by the fact it still felt like they were dating, the magnetism between them still volatile.

It's Saturday when Y/n's baking in the kitchen. She's yet to enquire about selling it, probably because they're yet to properly get divorced. Somehow, it doesn't feel weird for her to live in their marital home. She ignores how little it feels like they're broken up, especially when she's eagerly anticipating him coming home back from a case. He's not even coming to see her, but she's changed out of her pajamas and put makeup on.

"Guess who?" A voice says while the matching fingers block her vision.

If she didn't know that voice like the back of her hand, she would have freaked out. "You're so close to losing your key, Spencer Walter Reid."

He pulls his hands away, resting his back against the bench with his body facing her. "Boring answer. I would have accepted sexy ex or the smartest man alive." He says, smiling his perfect wide smile.

He looks good, a golden glow still surrounding him, and his shirt fits him tightly around his muscles. She's allowed to say that as his eventual ex-wife, right? It's more of a compliment to herself for attracting attractive, intelligent men. That's how she justifies it anyway.

"Who's been inflating your ego, loser?" She teases.

Repartee of their level is something no one else could ever offer him, and he cringes when other people try. "Jealous?" He asks.

Yes, she is. She'd love to shower him with compliments. Tell him about how nice his hair looks a little bit longer, how he should wear more light blue because it really is his color, how good he smells, and some less innocent things as well. The jealousy boils in her at the thought of someone else doing that. Still, she resists.

"That someone else has to vacate the bathroom for hours each day so you can do your hair? No." She lies. It's a lie on all levels.

Unimportantly, he doesn't spend that long in the bathroom, and he's about the furthest thing from a narcissist there is, but deeply, she would jump at the opportunity to be locked out of the bathroom while he spends far too long in the shower and be greeted with the gorgeous sight of a towel wrapped around his hips and his chest showing.

"Okay." He lets it go, and it annoys her that he won't believe the time. "Can I have some cookie dough?"

"Say please." She directs.

He pouts too much like Beatrice. "Please." He complies before opening her mouth.

She frowns, unsure if he seriously wants her to hand-feed him cookie dough. The answer is yes because he doesn't shut his mouth and tell her it's a joke. She scoops some up, putting her fingers into his mouth. He doesn't let them sneak out without wrapping his lips. It's suggestive, and it doesn't disgust her.

"You'll get salmonella." She tells him when he finally lets her fingers out of his mouth. She tries not to blush like mad while she wipes her fingers on a kitchen towel.

"You'll have to look after me then," Spencer says, justifying it. "As the person who gave it to me."

She shakes her head. "Gross."

"Why are you baking on a Saturday?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at her. He's suspicious whenever things change in her behavior, more so than anyone else's.

"I'm anticipating being busy tomorrow." She answers ambiguously.

It was on purpose, but the goal wasn't to make him curious and ask more questions. She just wasn't jumping at the opportunity to hear his opinion on her love life.

Unfortunately, his curiosity peaked when she started speaking. "Why?" She mumbles out an answer that he doesn't catch. "Come on, don't be shy."

"I'm going on a date." She says finally, avoiding looking at him.

That knocks him off guard, the smile slipping from his face as he steps back. Quickly, he forces himself to say something recoverable to hide the hurt and shock he's feeling at the unexpected news. "Does he know you're married?"

He knows he has no right to be upset about it. Not only are they not exclusive, but they're, in no way, romantically involved. It's why there's no bite in his words, nothing vicious in his tone.

It hits him harder with every passing second. Her statement is something he never expected, and questioning why that is while standing in the middle of their kitchen with her in a beautiful new top, yeah, it's gut-wrenching.

She holds up her bare left hand, shed of a wedding ring. "He doesn't, no."

"What's his name?" Spencer asks next. There are a million questions on his mind, but he keeps the conversation casual.

"Bradley."

She feels guilty for it, unsure if it's cheating guilt or mom guilt, and she's forced to constantly remind herself that it's okay, she's allowed to say yes when she gets asked out and be swept away by someone else.

His next move, to her, seems predictable. Whenever he's looking for more information, he stays quiet, waiting for her to feel awkward enough to elaborate. Even though she used to read him like an open book, she can't see that he's processing, replaying their worst moments-the moments that led them here- in his head.

She keeps talking, annoyed that his old trick is working when really she's just breaking his heart more. "He's a defense attorney, but he accidentally took my coffee the other day."

Spencer resists the urge to scoff because 'accidentally.' He's seen Morgan use the move a hundred times: pretend to mix up the coffees, apologize, and seal the deal by asking if he can make it up to her. "Switching teams, I see." He interrupts, predominantly so that he doesn't have to hear anything else. "And a new top." He mentions. Again, a tactic to get her to stop talking. "What color is it? It would look really nice as a feature wallpaper."

He does that, too, only complimenting things adjacent to her. Talking about fucking interior design instead of just saying she looks nice pushes her buttons, and she knows where his are.

"Yeah, I was wearing a jacket in a similar color, so I'm hoping it's a subliminal message." She admits. "Plus he's tall and very attractive.”

Spencer wants to scream something along the lines of 'I'm 6'1, I have three PhDs, you've told me I'm handsome after you held my hair up while I puked after drinking far too much, and I'm so goddamn in love with you,' but he can barely admit the last fact to himself.

"So he's got brown curly hair and sparkling brown eyes?" Spencer teases her, and she rolls her eyes. That dumb eidetic memory would never let him forget the descriptors she'd given him, and his cocky attitude would never stop mentioning it. "It's not your fault you have a type. Scientifically-"

"Shh." She requests, pressing her finger to his lips.

Without thinking about it, like it was second nature, Spencer purses his lips and kisses her skin. After letting it linger for a moment, she takes it away and turns back to what she's doing.

Again, he draws her attention back to him, cupping the cheek furthest away from him and turning her face to look at him. Once she is, eyes locked on his, he holds her other cheek. He steps forward so that he's so close to her that her breath gets trapped in her throat.

Those fingers on her skin make her feel things she shouldn't be feeling, and her heart starts to thump in her chest when she sneaks a glance at those beautiful veins. Maybe her skin is hot or maybe his fingers are just cold but the contrast sends shivers all over her. It's hard not to think about all the times they've been inside her or how they look wrapped around his cock as he lines himself up with her sex.

"Y/n, if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god." He says threateningly, and it would worry her if she didn't know him so well and if it wasn't so hot.

"You don't believe in god." She calls him out, raising her eyebrows in challenge.

"I can find anyone, anywhere." She can't debate that. "And if he lays a hand on you, I'll kill him or put him in jail for the rest of his life. Your choice."

He's acting like he's doing her a favor, letting her decide how he'll hurt someone who hurts her. It's an odd declaration to be making, contradictory to every bit of his sweet nature, and she doesn't hate it.

"What if I ask- beg for it?" She questions him.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that." He's really not.

He would do immoral things that would make him lose his job and even go to jail if someone hurt her, but the deep feelings he's disgusting as an overprotective bravado against someone assaulting her is really just because he can't stand the thought of someone else being with her.

He's not worried about it sexually. She might be anticipating not being home for the night, but she's not the type to ask a first date to get rough with her. What's got him on edge is her being someone else's emotionally. They might be telling everyone they're not together, but if her heart belongs to someone else, there's no chance of him getting her back, and that's all he wants.

His lips are so close that she could kiss him, but the magnetism makes it challenging to resist. She yearns for the feeling of warm lips against hers, more specifically, the pretty pink ones she's peeking at.

They've had slips before. It's been three weeks since their last one. Every time, she swears she won't do it again, but she's ready to tear his clothes off and fuck him in the kitchen.

She's daring him to make that dangerous leap, and he's about to.

The cries of a woken-up one-year-old through the baby monitor snap them back into a harsh reality before their lips can touch. They both wonder if it's horrid that they forgot why he's there. Spencer lingers for a moment with her face in his hands before he breaks away from her painfully.

"I'll go." He says, leaving her standing there stunned with cheeks hot and a pounding heart.

She has a moment to recover, but it's not enough, and soon Spencer's back in the room with the sweetest baby in his arms. She's giggling, clinging to her dad, who she loves dearly. If Y/n didn't love Beatrice wholeheartedly, she'd be jealous she wasn't enough for Spencer to spend time with. But she can't be. Not when Bea has the greatest dad in the entire world, and she deserves every inch of his love.

"Kiss momma." Spencer directs, holding her up to Y/n's cheek.

She plants a kiss that's mostly saliva on her mom, and despite how messy it is, it makes Y/n grin. "How'd you sleep, baby?" She asks, knowing they'll be no reply. Her vocabulary is limited to three words: mom, dad, and love.

"Not so well last night," Spencer answers like it was intended for him.

He sits on a bar stool at the kitchen island, sitting Bea in his lap. "Spencer," Y/n warns, glaring at him.

"Your mom's mad at me." He stage-whispers to Bea. "I never know why."

"Should we start with lying to a child?" She wonders, but it's playful, not insulting. "Add in some pesky comments."

Spencer pouts, holding Bea up so she can see it and copy her father. "Oh, she loves them." He assures her. "And I love you. So much."

Y/n smiles in adoration. He might be difficult to be in love with, but he's the best dad ever. Spencer catches her staring, it's pretty obvious when the bowl of cookie dough sits abandoned on the counter.

"You look so similar." She says, trying to prevent the awkward since and slightly too romantic looks.

"Need another one to look like you?" He jokes, or maybe it's an offer. She can't really tell.

She scoffs, shaking her head. "I'm alright, thanks."

"But she's so perfect." He coos, her entire hand holding his pinky finger. "How could you not want another one?"

She chuckles at his baby fever. It is practically impossible to not want another child when theirs is so incredible, but they're only masochistic towards each other.

"Don't go getting random girls pregnant, Spencer." She jokingly advises him.

“I’m only ever going to get one girl pregnant.” He tells her.

He’s messy. In fact, they’re messy together, and he can’t keep his dick in his pants, but it’s not a problem he has with anyone else.

"That's possibly very nice." She says, frowning as she tries to figure him out.

"You're lucky." He rephrases.

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're lucky I don't kick you out now."

"Whoa, I get it." He teases. "It's someone's time to get lucky, hang a sock on the door and all that."

"I highly doubt you got any in college." She reminds him.

"Or now." He adds.

It should be weird. Who casually discusses sex with an ex?

"Yeah, I noticed one of your hands seems stronger than the other." She quips, although there's no discernable difference. They're both equally delicious.

"Mm, reminds me, I need more lotion." He mentions, playing along with the joke. "Vanilla, right?"

She fake-gags. "That's literally disgusting." She chides. "Do not go and get the same lotion I have to jack off."

He shrugs casually. "It's a free country."

"You're disturbing." She reiterates, reminding herself he said it to get her flustered.

"Don't flirt with me like that, or I might start thinking you like me." He warns, fluttering his eyelids at her.

She does feel like she's falling in love all over again with him when it's all flirting and comfortable.

"You'd be begging if I was flirting." She assures him, and it's true. Spencer begs like no one else.

"Alright, I think that's time to go." He decides, clicking his tongue and looking at Bea again. "Your mom's too into me for her own good."

That is hitting the nail on the head. She's into him and she always will be, but it's not wise, and it compromises her self-respect time and time again.

He gets up, bouncing Bea on his hip and walking around the bench. She leans forward to kiss her happy baby before playing with her soft hair. "Just admit you lost, Spencer." She tells him.

A little grin lights up his features as he refuses to comply with her directions. "I never lose." Oh, except for his one true chance at happiness and a family with the most remarkable woman in the world.

"Those beautiful big brains." She coos, moving her hand to his hair to part his curls properly.

"I'm sure yours are equally, if not more, beautiful." He says, once again making her stomach slip with the eye contact. "Smaller of course."

She scoffs out a laugh. "Bye." She says. "Her bag's in the hall."

"When do you want her back?" Spencer asks, holding the baby up so her cheeks can be kissed an obscene amount of time.

Their custody arrangement is nonexistent. With Spencer's hectic schedule and their good relationship, there's never been a need to make it official. Bea's always his priority when he's in the District, and that keeps Y/n happy.

Not fully happy. She'd like to see Bea, and her dad, every day, and she's too far from that with the latter Reid to ever be completely satisfied with her life. Months later, she's still convincing herself she can one day not look at him and wish for something unrealistic.

"Whenever." She says. They start walking towards the front door, slowly, both lingering and dragging it out. "If you need to go, you can bring her back."

"If you're in the middle of a date?" He wonders cheekily, grabbing Bea's bag from the floor.

She glares at him, not finished with her sentence. "Otherwise, I'll text you."

"Call." He insists. "We're not texting people."

"Fine." She agrees, swinging open the door. She takes Bea into her arms, giving her a tight hug. "Love you, sweet baby."

"Mom, love," Bea mumbles back, placing her hands on Y/n's cheeks.

Spencer gets the sinking feeling in his chest that he always gets leaving, but it's worse when he's taking Bea, who's Y/n's entire world. It makes him feel nauseating amounts of guilt. How can he be okay with putting her through the loneliness of a house that big being empty?

He smiles at her as he takes Bea back. "Thank you."

She not sure what for and she doesn't have a chance to ask before he's walking out the door, strapping Bea in her car seat. She waves at her mom, looking as happy as always.

Spencer stops before he gets in his seat. "Y/n?"

"Yeah?" She asks, straightening up her posture.

She's hoping he'll say what she wants to hear, although she doesn't know what that is. A Spencer fact would keep things simple, but saying something about how they can get back on track, that she shouldn't go out tonight, would ruin their carefully stacked house of cards.

"He's a lucky guy." He says, and it kills him to know that it used to be him taking her out, watching her grin from across the table, making her laugh until she's begging him to stop, driving home with his hand on her thigh, watching her take off her makeup and become more beautiful, and ending up cuddling in bed, their baby just a room over.

And he can't ever have that again, not with her, and he can't fathom it with someone else.

Y/n goes back inside once he's driven away, hoping for once, after he leaves, that she can not think about him.

It doesn't work. As always, she's stuck thinking about Spencer.

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[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE SEUNG EUN HAN(JOHAN SEONG) HEADCANONS

I feel so bad for what he has to go through, he does NOT deserve whatever he has to go through 

You'd meet Johan Seong when his dog Eden would run off from him as usual. He was hunting for Eden as usual when he spotted him with you, you were petting his head and stroking his ears as Johan smiled softly to himself, glad to see that Eden was okay and he struck up a conversation with you. The two of you would talk for a while and Johan would be lying if he said he didn't like your company. He actually liked spending time with you and wanted to spend more time with you, which was something he didn't feel since a long time. He wants to know more about you however his mind will be telling him to cool it for the time being. He's quite disappointed even when he doesn't show it that you have to leave, he wishes he could spend more time with you and get to know you better 

He wouldn't exactly fall in love at first sight, he doesn't believe in the whole love at first sight thing and has a rather logical outlook on the world. With his mom's blindness and his decreasing sight, he knows the only way to survive in the world is if he gets stronger and has power. Falling in love was the last thing he'd ever wanted, so why was his heart racing wildly against his chest and his face felt warm and flushed whenever he kept seeing you? Perhaps he was getting sick...that could be the reason, he isn't supposed to fall in love. He'll keep denying his feelings for you at first but when he sees you with someone else he'll get really cranky and annoyed. Why the HELL are you hanging with some other random dude when you have him by your side? Is this a way of telling him that he's not good enough for you or something? You should have known you're supposed to be by HIS side since the day you've met Eden and him 

He has abandonment issues and trust issues, a LOT. He'll do extensive research on your likes and dislikes and your personality and he'll have your habits memorized too. He literally BLENDS in with the shadows of the night which makes it easier for him to stalk you and tail you whenever you're going back to your house. He'll end up breaking into your house as well at some point maybe when you're away or something. He'll take in every single detail of your room and ensure Eden doesn't mess up your room. His eyes will land on the pictures of you with your friends and his expression will darken slightly. He doesn't care if they're people from your past but he does hope you're in contact with them any longer, else he'll have to make a few house calls 

He'll take a few 'souvenirs' for himself as well, not major things which you would realize would be missing, small things like your pens, pencils, your favorite lip gloss so he can imagine what it would be like to kiss those beautiful soft lips of yours...He has insecurities as well, he's worried you'll leave him like everyone else one day and that can't happen. The thought of losing you scares him, he can't lose you. He gets annoyed when someone else tries to steal you away from him, it just pisses him off to the core. Once you've left, he'll deal with that pest immediately by breaking their bones or just straight up murdering them. He shows NO mercy to those lousy scumbags who want to take you from him. The other day while you were speaking to one of the guys from your school, you didn't realize he was being too flirty with you and touchy with you, you failed to observe the slightly perverted look in his eyes but someone noticed it all right. A certain brown haired guy who always followed you around noticed it from the shadows, dressed in his usual black hoodie, white shirt and red sweatpants as his fists clenched till his nails dug into his skin 

After you left, Johan followed the guy back to his house and just as he was about to enter his house, he grabbed him by his hair and dragged him to the back of the alley nearby and slammed him against the wall as he warned him in a ominous tone to stay the hell away from you as he beat him unconscious to a bloody pulp. If he decides to ignore his words, he could always pay a night visit to get rid of him permanently. You have to hand it to him, he's determined when he wants to be. When he's determined to make you his in every way and manner possible, you better believe he's willing to do whatever the HELL it takes for that to happen. At frist he'll cleverly isolate you from your friends with slight emotional manipulation and guilt tripping from his side till you realize what's happening and it'll be too late for you to do anything 

Due to his insecurities and fears and all the immense paranoia of losing you, he'll kidnap you quicker than expected 

You'll wake up in his house and you'll be confused why Eden is with you, nuzzling his head against your hand. Johan would just calmly walk into the room and tell you what he did with a stoic look on his face while you'll be freaking out and panicking at what happened. He'll be slightly annoyed with you panicking, why are you getting scared? He's doing this for your own good, he's protecting you and saving you from every single thing that could potentially harm you. You should be glad, but he'll feel slightly bad when he sees you crying. He'll let out a soft sigh and grumble slightly as he'll wipe your tears with his thumb and caress your cheek softly and lovingly as he'll make some food for you. Don't think of abstaining yourself from eating or starving yourself, he'll just make you sit on his lap and feed you as he shoves mouthfuls of food into your mouth. You're eating one way or another and he'll make sure of that even if he has to FORCE you to eat and take care of yourself 

He's closed off and stoic around other people but he's like a hurt innocent child when he's around you. He feels like he can trust you, you've managed to tear down those barriers and walls caging his heart so it's a big deal when he starts telling you his feelings. When you hold him for the first time and hug him, it takes him all his will power and self control not to just tear up in your arms. He'll sigh in content as he'll pull you closer to him and bury his face in the nape of your neck. Yeah, whatever plans you've had afterwards will have to wait because once you're in his arms he'll refuse to let you go, clinging onto you like a leech or moss on the bottom of a rock 

Did I mention he was incredibly clingy too? He NEEDS to be around you, he'll hug you from behind whenever you're doing something. Even when you're sleeping he doesn't let you be, he'll be the big spoon as he pulls you closer to him to cuddle with you and he feels like he's protecting you from something. Just humor him unless you want to deal with him being sulky, grumpy and annoyed for the rest of the day. Literal embodiment of a puppy sometimes, with murderous pent up rage. Growing up, he didn't really have a lot of attention. He always had to shoulder responsibilities and he just needs someone to tell him they're proud of him and show him some affection. Even the slightest touch from you will send his mind into an overdrive and he'll start blushing and become flustered. He likes it when you pet his head and he likes giving you kisses on your head and your hand or nuzzling his cheek against yours. See, he does have his soft moments at times. He might not be able to afford really fancy and expensive stuff given with his mom's eye surgery but he's willing to buy and make small things for you to see you smile. Besides, it's the thought and the actions that counts more than the gifts in his opinion 

Don't escape from him for both of your sakes. If he returns back to find you gone, his dread and paranoia will start to settle in as he realizes his worst fear of losing you is coming true. However he'll compose himself as he's determined to find you no matter what. He'll have Eden track you down by identifying your scent and you can be DAMN sure he'll lead Johan to you. Johan will give you an icy glare as he drags you back home. Scream, kick, cry he doesn't care, he will not put up with your little temper tantrums. He won't hurt you physically but he'll yell at you for leaving him with tears running down his face, angry and hurt that you've betrayed him and he'll start with the guilt tripping of how Zack, his mother, everyone left him and how people like Gun took advantage of him to tug at your heart strings 

It will be quite a long time for him to trust you again. He'll calm down eventually but that doesn't mean you're off the hook either. He'll punish you by taking away your favorite items and FORCE you to cuddle with him every day till he's satisfied. You'll have to deal with him being suspicious and sulky for a while because of your little escape attempt. Every night he'll whisper in your ear about how you'll never be able to leave him. He doesn't feel guilty or bad even in the slightest that he's abducted you, he feels like it was necessary, you're HIS and only his. He's usually gentle and soft spoken towards you too. Under NO circumstances would he let you join God Dog, he doesn't want you fighting and getting hurt

He won't take it lightly when someone tries to take you from him. He'll deal with them quickly sending them to their literal death no matter who it is. He gets quite insecure of his eyes at times but his heart would melt when you comfort him about them which fuels his possessiveness towards you even more. Ultimately at the end of the day he just wants to come back to you, hug you and hold you in his arms and love you. Is that TOO much to ask? 

[skullhorn59]

Heavenly Hell 2

A/N: second chapter! no spicey here just yet. sorry!~ im not that good at writing yet. xP Tags/Warnings are added progressively, design changed/fixed with time. mostly proofread! Summary: you have always been a fan of the show Hazbin Hotel in your life - and as you are spawned in a Hell identically matching the Show, you can't believe your sheer luck. you're immediately on your way to eagerly meet the celebrities (at least they are in your world), but your arrival hadn't gone unnoticed... Pairings: Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk x Fem!Reader Warnings/Promises: self aware and insecure Reader, Spoilers for the Show, Vox, Attempted Manipulation, successful Manipulation

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

"so, tell me, what useful information could you, someone this new to hell, possibly have?"

Vox sits down and leans back in his chair, watching you with a bored expression on his screen. urgh. right. he probably watched you spawning (arriving?) in hell. this is gonna be a hard one to explain. fiddling with your fingers anxiously, you look everywhere but at his screen.

you already regret coming here first, and not getting yourself a fidget toy first or something. or some pills to help keep your anxiety down. shit, you probably look scared out of your mind right now. he's gonna think you're really weird and rude if you speak up like this. or straight up lying. but for fucks sake - you can't bring yourself to look directly at him.

instead - you take in your surroundings. Vox's office. you only know it's impressive size from the Screenshots of the show, and literally sitting in it now is even more impressive. it consists of a gigantic room, an equally gigantic shark tank below, and a big round platform in the middle, which is connected to the door with a long passway. no idea how this could possibly fit into the tower without having it collapse from the sheer weight of the water alone - the only logical answer would be it being underground.

your eyes wander back to the platform, which is decorated with Vox's emblem. illuminated by a bright array of screens behind it, a round control pult sits at the back end of the platform. infront of it in a spinny chair with it's tips pointing upwards, is a rather impatient looking Vox seated.

oops.

you better get to answering his question.

you clear your throat and swallow, unsure how to even start. thankfully, you get your own chair - manifested with a wave of Vox's hand - to sit into. hoping you aren't sweating too visibly right now, you collect your thoughts. if you know one thing, it's not to sell yourself short.

"well, you see, that's hard to explain. and, you, as the head of.. technology.., surely understand that information is a valuable resource. I can't just.. give it away for free."

taking a deep breath, you lean back a little, trying to at least look more relaxed than you actually are. nervousness isn't even close anymore, like, are you panicking already?? well, at least you can mask it pretty well, you think.

"but I can say this much: I have so much information on Alastor," you think you hear a slight glitch coming from Vox at the mention of the name, "and the others in the Hotel, it's not even funny. Just.. I have a few small questions for you first."

a short glance up into the TV Demon's face tells you he raised an eyebrow. is he interested?? you hope he is. with all you got.

"go on, ask your questions."

wait. isn't he usually more talkative than that? nono, you can't spend a thought on that right now. you need to focus.

"When did the last extermination happen?"

"about a week ago."

"okay.. any interesting or unexpected turns of events? I just have to know what happened and what didn't. I-I know this sounds cryptic, and maybe even crazy, but I need to know at what time I got here."

silence fills the room for a moment. you dare to glance at the Overlord again, and he musters you with an expression you can't quite place.

did you mess up?

But Vox interrupts your thought before you can continue it. "... the hotel members fought back against the Angels, and won. that's all." relieved, you let out breath you didn't realize you were holding. okay. that's good to know. so the extermination already happened. it makes a good bunch of your information useless, but still. you can work with that. now you just need to-

"I think I provided enough information to you now," the Overlord begins, interrupting your thoughts again. his voice is oddly sweet. "its time you return the favor, my dear." - of course, he's trying to get the info out of you without paying for it.

how greedy.

you adjust your position on the chair, crossing one leg over the other, before looking directly at him. he's wearing his signature smile, his digital eyes looking  almost affectionately at you, but you know better than to trust the façade he put on.

"I told you, I'm not going to just give it away for free. And don't even try to fob me off with stuff like any of your products, pins, an autograph or similar worthless knick-knacks. That won't work on me. Trust me."

you glance at him again to gauge his reaction, and he seems surprised to hear you use his own slogan against him, but he quickly regains his composure. good. now just don't get any hypnotizing ideas, Vox...

"No, what I want is... actually quite simple. I want to be able to come and go to the entirety of this tower how and when I please. and.." you can't help a small smile at the thought of the Moth Man, "I want to see Valentino. preferably after our conversation."

and again, silence fills the room. you watch him tap the armrest of his chair with his fingers, thinking about your demands. you can't tell if he's going to give in to them or just declare you as crazy and throw you out, but you hope dearly it's not the latter.

just as the silence begins to get uncomfortable, the TV Demon clicks his tongue and stands up. your eyes dart up, and you automatically stand up too. what's happening? is he gonna throw you out now? - "alright. I accept. you may come and go freely, I'll get you your meeting with Val, and in turn, I get all the information you got on the Hotel and it's residents. Deal?"

Staring down at the hand he holds out, your mind whirls for a moment, overwhelmed with the action. you never thought he'd also make deals like Alastor - another detail they're matching each other in. you always thought he'd just somehow get peoples souls with sneaky contracts being signed when buying a Voxtek product or something.

as soon as you take his cold hand, he gives yours a firm shake, his smile widening to a grin as his face glitches momentarily. bright blue electrical currents and sparks begin to flow around the two of you for a moment, together with an intense blue light and a metallic screech. but as soon as it came, it's gone, and before you can waste a thought on it, Vox lets go of your hand, instead placing his around your shoulders as he guides you towards the door. "fantastic. now that that's done, how about we go check if Val's got some free time for you, hmm?"

you're confused.

doesn't he want your informations now?

on second thought - you don't mind too much. this way you have more of a reason to stick around and return.

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist

─❲♡❳▷Main List

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Pour Your Drink (And We'll Talk It Over)

Pairing: Awkward! Timothee x Oblivious! Male(intended) Reader Summary: Reader and Timothee have been fighting over the same seat in a local coffee shop for months... Words: 454/500, it's not my goal but it's close, and why ruin something good striving for something better? Warnings: Cute, Fluff Notes: surprise surprise I actually like this. CAN BE READ AS ANYONE ELSE

⋆˚✿˖°☕︎ ⋆˚✿˖°

☕︎The last few months were odd to say the least. In your entire life, not once have you ever had a long-term experience quite like this one. Sure, there had been a few times in high school when that one kid stole your seat but you were just kids then. Logically, you know the 'adult' thing to do would be to fuck off and find a new seat, but you're a weirdo, you hold onto the things you like and the things that comfort you, so why couldn't this guy just take your advice, fuck off and find a new seat?

☕︎You dont realize you're staring at him, sitting in your seat, through the big window of your favorite coffee shop until he locks eyes with you. The surprised questioning look on his face is enough to snap you out of your thoughts. You turn on your heel and speed walk into the shop hoping you can just get your coffee and not have to wait, but luck is never on your side.

☕︎You're forced to stand there like a moron behind the three people in line, who all seem determined to take up the entire morning just looking at the menu like they've never seen the English language in their life. You fidget awkwardly, feeling his eyes bore into the back of your head, having to physically stop yourself from looking over at him multiple times, too awkward to be confronted about your weird staring. 

☕︎When you finally make it to the front of the line the young barista smiles at you, and without you ordering she recites your total. You should probably do something different, switch up your usual routine, maybe get something healthier for your gut, but the thought of deviating from your comforting habits for something that might not even be worth it is more vexing than the guy you were staring down coming up next to you to pay for your drink. 

☕︎Rightfully so, you startle and gawk at him but he just smiles and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. You might be hallucinating, and if it didn't look totally insane you probably would have pinched yourself. You blink and sure enough, the guy's cheeks are turning pink. His lips move like he's speaking but the noise doesn't register and you're left standing there like an idiot because wow this guy is actually really cute and suddenly your throat feels dry and your ears are ringing and your palms are sweating. 

☕︎You're snapped out of your trance-like state when the barista calls your name, your movements blur as you grab your drink, thank the cute guy, and then scamper from the shop blushing like a madman.

[harrywavycurly]

Is Dorothy gonna be a trouble maker? I feel like she’s going to want to fight everyone like her mom but be a big softy like Eddie 🥹🥹

Hiii babes!! So I feel like she’s a mixture of both of them as in she’s gonna say what’s on her mind but also really fun to be around😂 I’ll give you some examples!💖

-find all things It Was Just One Night here✨

*in these Dorothy is around 7/8 and the nicknames Reader gives Dotty are ones my mom used for me lol*

“So wanna know what our darling little girl did at school today sweetheart?” “Uh let me guess she…learned something?” “Well…she learned what the inside of the principal’s office looks like.” “Ohh dot…Is it tacky? She strikes me as being very beige.” “Yes mom you’d hate-” “uh excuse me…why don’t you tell your mother why you had to go to the office?” “What’d you do sugar butt? Who’d you make cry today?” “Uhm…well it was…uh…my…teacher.” “Your teacher? You made your teacher cry?” “Not cry but she was…upset but all I asked her to do was look at me when she was talking to me because that’s what you always tell daddy when he’s not listening to you and…she wasn’t listening to what I was saying so I asked her politely…I used my manners and everything…I just asked if she could just please look at me while I’m speaking….” “Well…what did the principal say to you?” “She said that I need to talk to my teachers with respect and be patient with them since there’s twenty of us and only one of her…” “and did you apologize to your teacher?” “No….I didn’t think she deserved an apology since I didn’t do anything wrong and you’ve always said don’t say things you don’t mean…” “right…yeah okay uh…why don’t you go work on your homework while your dad and I talk about this okay?” Okay…” “how the fuck done handle this Eddie? We can’t punish her for asking for her teacher to pay attention to her and she’s right…we do always tell her not to say things she doesn’t mean.” “I say we let this issue slide but if she’s a regular in the principal’s office then we’ve got to be a little more…stern…or…something.” “Right because that’s us…super stern and strict.”

“Uncle Steve is getting married? To someone we don’t know?” “No sugar he’s just going to a wedding.” “With someone we don’t know? What if she’s mean? Or doesn’t have good hair?” “I’m sure she’s nice…now the hair thing I’m not sure anyone is going to live up to your uncle Steve’s fabulous hair.” “Mom be serious…he can’t go with a stranger…we should go with him.” “Sugar he didn’t ask us to go…what if he brings her by so we can meet her would that make you feel better?” “Yes…I’ll go call him.” “Okay…go call him and ask if he’d like to bring her to dinner this week but don’t you dare call her the stranger you hear me? That’s not nice.” “Then what do I call her?” “His girlfriend…just say hey uncle Steve do you and your girlfriend want to come have dinner with us this week? And go from there…” “okay but he’s not coming over on chicken nugget night…”

“Dad can I ask you a question?” “Sure princess what’s up?” “Did you really have your head in your ass?” “Excuse me? Where did you hear that?” “Granddaddy…he said that when you met mom that it took you a while to get your head outta your ass and ask her out…” “I’m gonna kill-” “oh you’re not gonna kill anyone…now sugar no your dad didn’t actually have his head in his ass that’s just a figure of speech…like when someone says it’s hotter than hell outside or when your grandaddy says he’s as full as a tick…does that make sense?” “I thought so…because that’s not physically possible.” “Also you know those are no no words….” “Sorry dad but mom said I’m allowed to say bad words if it’s part of a story or repeating what someone said…” “did she now?” “What? It’s logical…I didn’t know Wayne was gonna go and tell her something like that.” “That’s fine Princess but just don’t say that phrase outside of the house okay?” “Okay dad.”