#the salt shaker speaks

[rahayn]

Wait a minute, what are the orb and cube for

they're for pondering

[hikarry]

Just let me share this gem I went out of my way to make because of an ask I received on Instagram threatening to put me inside a salt shaker, to which I answered I was the one in power of the salt shaker and I could put whoever I wanted inside said salt shaker

And you know exactly who I put in the salt shaker

[doctorsiren]

I don’t know what this says about me but we have 3 salt shakers/grinders in this house, and my favourite one is missing. The fact that I have a favourite salt shaker is wild to me.

The other two get the job done but they’re salt grinders and I hate using them over the normal shaker because they leave bigger chunks of salt, which would be fine bc I love salt, but sometimes the salt chunks don’t taste like salt and so it just feels like I crunched a small rock in my mouth (which I technically did) and it gives me very brief panic that I chipped a tooth or something

[clannfearrunt]

Rly awesome (RIP) how directly my relationship to food manifests in my worldbuilding weaknesses. I can tell u what an animal Can physically eat. I can spend ages thinking abt the mechanical experiences of eating various existing foods, like texture, compatibility with anatomy, etc. But lord help me if u ask what kinds of “cooking” or “cultural dishes” anyone may have or enjoy. I simply do not eat complex dishes I eat. Ingredience. With salt. I don’t know what cooking is

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, realistically speaking, Bruce Wayne has got to have a low alcohol tolerance. He’s a lightweight.

Like, think about it—this man rarely drinks. Most of his “drunken” shenanigans are done stone cold sober on account of the Mission, and all. If you get more than two glasses of wine in him he is fucking gone.

Which is part of what makes family dinners at the Manor so entertaining. Assuming that such events are one of the rare times Bruce truly relaxes, it’s not a stretch to think he might indulge in a glass of wine or a bourbon; and this is fine and all… until the Batkids persuade him to have another round with them or, God forbid, do a celebratory shot.

After that? Bruce is wiped.

His kids think it’s hilarious. Drunk Bruce is a trip. He’ll drop insane Dad Lore about his time in the League or a wild JL space mission or something, but then proceed to list in meticulous, clinical detail all the things that annoy him about Hal Jordan, and then all the sudden get super excited and start detailing his latest Superman Contingency Plan using the salt shakers in the dining room table. He switches moods and topics so quickly that his kids would get whiplash if they weren’t laughing their asses off.

And you know the +1, singular, solitary, time that Bruce got drunk in front of Clark will go down in history as the best day of Clark’s life. Bruce spent the entire time baring his soul, praising his children, and describing his world travels… but he also kept getting distracted by Clark’s abs and called him “sexy” no less then fourteen times. (Clark left that bar wheezing with laughter and had to disentangle himself from Bruce and force him into a taxi because Bruce kept trying to make out with him. It was fantastic.)

[smudgyink]

resisting the demons that are telling me to draw more clive and leon (i am losing handsomely)

[winter-hoof]

I don’t need them but I want them so bad

[clemswinecorner]

Neat [George Clarkey]

Summary: George and Y/N are dating, but no one is aware. It can make going out with their friends a bit... weird, a bit risky, but it works.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: sexual innuendos and alcohol, other than that it's fine

I'm in love with this man so here's a fic!

Main Masterlist

Gif from @g-xix

“We’re getting drinks, are you staying here?” Chris shouts over the loud Spanish music of whatever club they are in. Y/N looks around, seeing Arthur Television chatting with a couple of friends and Callum and Chip laughing with some guy they met when they went out some other time. “I’ll go with,” she gestures, and Chris nods as he follows George to the bar, occasionally checking if she’s still behind him. Although it was a Friday night, it was still relatively early, so the club wasn’t extremely busy yet. It was busy enough to have fun, but early enough to still be able to have a conversation with no interruptions, so they easily made their way over to the bar. As they arrive at the bar Chris starts speaking to the bartender, having heard everyone’s orders, and she softly puts her hand on George’s shoulder. He turns to her surprised, relaxing when he sees her. “Oh, I didn’t know you were walking with us!” She smiles, “Yeah, the rest was all in conversation anyway,” she explains, and he nods. Chris turns to the pair, “Do you want a pint?” He asks George, who contemplates his options before nodding. “Yeah. You as well?” He looks at the girl next to him, nodding. “Yes, but I also want to do tequila shots. Oh, and did you get a Guinness for Hill?” Chris looks at her surprised, “Wait, no, I didn’t, where is he anyway?” He asks before moving back to the bartender. “Could I get another 3 pints and a Guinness, please. Are we doing the shots now?” Chris turns to George and Y/N, who quickly make eye contact, before nodding. “Yeah, I’m down,” George answers, and Chris turns back to the bartender. “And three tequila shots, please, we’ll do those first and then take those other drinks back if that’s alright,” You look at George as you wait for the bartender. “Arthur went to the bathroom. You enjoying your night so far?” She asks, leaning closer. He nods, looking down at her, their faces a little too close for it to simply be friendly. Y/N glances towards Chris, tapping his phone on the card reader with the shots and limes already in front of him. “Yeah. What are you doing tonight, going to Becky’s?” She shakes her head, “No, she has to leave early tomorrow so she wouldn’t stay out too long. I’m not sure, why do you ask?” He shrugs, with a hint of a smile on his face. “Just thinking,” he says, moving away from her as Chris turns around. She sends him a knowing smirk as Chris hands out the shots. “Salt, babe, we need salt,” she tells him, and George is already leaning over the bar to grab one of the salt shakers. Y/N and Chris lick their palms and George twists some salt on them, “Okay, you do it for me,” he says, looking at the girl next to him. “What, d’you want her to lick you?” Chris chuckles, making a blush appear on the younger’s face, not realising the implications. “No, I meant like, the salt, not, what?!” He stutters, and Chris laughs even harder as she smiles, taking the salt from him. “Hurry up then, I want to take these shots!”

It’s busier by the time they’ve had a few rounds of drinks and shots. George was still relatively sober looking, having a fairly high tolerance, and Y/N wanted to be semi-responsible, going a bit easy. Unlike some of their other friends, who were already dancing— most of them dragged away by a drunk Chris, telling them how boring they were sitting around. Because their friends were all on the dance floor —or god knows where else in the club— George and Y/N didn’t really try to hide their affection. They were sitting together, her leg on his lap, one of his hands on her thigh and a drink in the other. “Are you staying at mine tonight?” He asks, and she nods. “Yeah, if the other boys don’t mind. Can’t really do anything then, though,” she says, and he shrugs. “It’d be weirder if I went to yours, I think, and with your roommates and stuff. Either way, I was thinking, maybe we could go out tomorrow? Grab a coffee, maybe have a cute little date?” He asks, just loud enough for her to hear. She chuckles, “You can’t get enough of me, can you? My roommates will be out tomorrow night, if you want to come over. We could make that taco thing you send me?” She suggests, and now he’s the one teasing her. “What were you saying about can’t get enough?” She rolls her eyes as he squeezes her waist. “Whatever, then I’ll make it by myself,” she says, and now he’s the one rolling his eyes. “I do have to hit the gym tomorrow, but you can leave whilst I’m gone, and we’ll meet for coffee after. Then do groceries and go back to yours?” She nods at his suggestion, “Yeah, sounds good. I have some work I planned to do tomorrow so that works perfect for me as well.” He frowns when she suddenly moves her legs away from his, turning towards him in a more casual way as she looks towards the dance floor. He follows her line of eyesight, explaining her change in behaviour, and looks back at her. “Are we letting Chris drag us away?” He asks as the mentioned man makes his way over. She smiles at their friend's clearly drunken state, “Yeah, someone has to look out for him. I could use some fun as well,” she says, and he fakes offence. “Is sitting in the corner of the club with me not fun enough for you?” She laughs, “Of course it is,” she leans closer to his face, as they both laugh, ready to kiss, before Chris’ voice brings them back to reality. They share a quick look, realising they almost got caught, and look over at their friend, that bumped into one of the tables and was cursing it out. They both have to hold in their laughs, as he makes his way over. “It’s funny, it almost looked like you were kissing from there, imagine how crazy that would be,” The two share a look once again, both aware Chris will have forgotten this by the morning. “Yeah, imagine. Hey, do you wanna dance again, or did you come here just because?” She asks, brushing off his comment. George chuckles as Chris enthusiastically nods, “yeah, c’mon!” He says, already turning around. George follows, holding his hand for her to grab, in order to not lose each other. No other reason, of course. She takes it with a smile, as Chris leads them through the crowd. Right when they reach their other friends, the first notes to Maneater are heard, and George turns around, already expecting the big smile on Y/N’s face. “Oh my god, this is a banger!” 

The way home went by fast, if you asked Chris and Arthur. They split off relatively quickly with their other friends, some staying at the club and some sharing an Uber home. Chris, Arthur, George and Y/N decided to simply walk back since it was, in theory, only twenty minutes, and it was nice to be in the fresh air for a bit. Chris and Arthur, both still in a drunken state, were giggling joking around, as George and Y/N walked behind them. “I feel like we’re very much being the parents, right now,” Y/N jokes, already on their way for twenty minutes and still being at least ten minutes away, and George chuckles as they walk with their arms interlocked. They knew their friends wouldn’t think much of it, both of them always being affectionate with their friends even sober, and the pair were also too drunk to realise it could mean something. “Don’t act like it hasn’t been the other way around, do I have to remind you of the XIX party two weeks ago?” She gasps at the memory, where she was in a very similar state as Chris was right this moment, and he was making endless fun of her. “Okay, well. You didn’t have to say that. Next time, I won’t come back to your place then,” she says, reminding him of what happened the morning after. “Hey, I wasn’t complaining!” She chuckles, as she looks at the boys in front of them crossing the road.

They walk in silence for a while, before Y/N speaks up. “Do you think they have any idea this is happening?” She wonders, looking at him. He looks at his roommates and back at her, confused by her question, “About what?” She looks at the boys. “Us. That we’re like, dating,” He turns to her as they stop at the traffic light, waiting for the cars to drive by. “I don’t know. Do you want them to?” He studies her face, trying to find an answer somewhere. She shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s more like… I don’t know, Chris comment made me think. They’re your roommates, I know we’re being a bit careful, but they know the both of us so well. But also, if they knew, would they have said something?” George takes in a deep breath. He looks at the boys walking a couple of meters in front of them, not having realised the other two had to stop at the crossing. “Sometimes I think Arthur might know, from my side at least. He hasn’t said it, but I think he just thinks I haven’t realised, but I obviously have,” she looks up at him curiously. “Realised what?” He turns to her with a soft look in his eyes. “How in love with you I am,” he simply says. Her eyes widen a bit— this was unfamiliar territory for them. He realises too, as he looks away from her again. “Shit, sorry, that, okay, that was quite-,”  She immediately interrupts, as she stops them from walking any further. “I’m in love with you too. Like, actually,” He looks at her, a genuine smile on both their faces. “Okay. Okay, good,” he simply says, as they get closer to each other. She giggles, “yeah?”, she asks, and he nods, “yeah, very good.” They both smile as they kiss each other, lost in their own worlds, before they hear their names being called. “Oh my god, I forgot about them,” George says annoyed, but still with a smile. She laughs, “Yeah, okay, maybe this wasn’t the best place and time for this, but it’s fine. We should definitely get to them before they take the wrong turn,” he laughs and nods, giving her one last quick kiss.

George grabs her hand, but quickly lets it go again as they go around the corner, where their friends are waiting. “Finally!” Arthur exclaims as Chris is leaning against him. “Jesus, what were you doing, shagging each other? Should’ve done that in the bathroom,” Chris jokes, and they awkwardly laugh. Their friends were too drunk to remember the specific comment in the morning, but Y/N doesn’t miss the way Arthur inspects George's face. “Traffic light. Alright, c’mon boys, I want to sleep,” Y/N answers, getting the group to walk on again. “I think you’re right about Arthur,” she softly tells George, who looks down at her with a questioning face. “That he knows you like me. Doesn’t have a clue we’re actually together though, I think,” she explains, and he nods, sighing softly before turning towards her again. “Do you want them to know?” He asks, and she’s somewhat surprised by the question. “I don’t know. I mean, I wouldn’t mind them knowing, like, I don’t care, but… I think it’s neat, us being like this — without anyone interfering with our relationship. I love them, but I also love this little thing we have going on, you know,” she explains, and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, me too,” she inspects his face, trying to find a sign of dishonesty. “You know, if you’re sick of having this relationship being a secret I don’t mind telling them, if that’s what you want,” he looks over at her with a smile. “No, it’s not that. It would make things easier, but once they know we can’t go back, you know?” She nods, looking at their friends, oblivious to the conversation the couple behind them is having. “I think we should just… Let them figure it out. Hide it, but you know, care a little less? If they find out, they find out,” She suggests. He nods, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Yeah, that sounds great. When they ask why I’m so happy tomorrow I’ll say it’s because I had some godly pussy,” she rolls her eyes and pushes him away chuckling. “You’re horrible,” she exclaims, and he just laughs, “You love me!” He says as they approach the boys' flat. She shakes her head, “Unfortunately, I do.”

[milkloafy]

A SMOOTH CRIMINAL

⋆｡˚ ❀ pairing: wriothesley x gn!reader ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.4k ⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: you play a harmless prank on your close friend, neuvillette, and he decides to retaliate by sending you to the fortress of meropide for your so-called “crimes” 

You weren’t exactly a hardened criminal. 

Sure you had some bouts of harmless thievery as a child but even then you always returned the item to the owner out of guilt. So, how you got sent to the Fortress of Meropide for messing with your friend was beyond you.

Naturally, it just so happened that your friend was the Chief Justice, and your little prank happened to be pouring out an entire salt shaker into his water as he took a small trip to the restroom. But in your defense, Neuvillette had ordered the last La Lettre a Focalors on the menu and wouldn’t even share a bite with you. 

You huffed at the memory. Salty water was too kind of a punishment, looking back at it. 

Still, you didn’t expect such a petty thing would have you branded as a criminal. If you had known, you would’ve added the contents of the nearby pepper shaker into Neuvillette’s water as well. That way, this sentence would have at least felt more justified. 

After your paperwork was processed, Madeline told you to enter the lift and wait for someone to give you a tour. This would be your new home for a whole…seven days. You hoped you could survive it. 

You tapped your foot as you waiting for your tour guide, eyes scanning across the dark, metallic room. Despite the dim lighting, the Fortress sounded more lively than you would have expected.

Just as you were starting to grow impatient, you spotted a familiar figure walking your way.

Wriothesley, you recognized. You had a brief run-in with him only one before in your life— When you were hanging out in Neuvillette’s office waiting for him to finish the last of his work, when Wriothesley decided to pay the Iudex a surprise visit. Judging from the amused expression on his face, it would seem he remembered you too.

Now, whether it was a good or bad memory, you couldn’t exactly say. Though, for the sake of your time here, you sure hoped it was the former. 

“Prisoner 8072,” he greeted with a chuckle.

You waved sheepishly. “That’s me, reporting for duty, sir.” 

“At ease, solider.”

You rolled your eyes, secretly please he went along with your antics. 

He beckoned you to follow him as he began to show you around the fortress. “Now, before we start the tour, would you like to tell me how you landed here?” 

With an innocent look on your face, you shrugged.

Wriothesley raised his brow expectantly. “My sources tell me it was an attempted poison of the Iudex.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Is that what Neuvillette is telling people?!”

“Just me,” he admitted. 

You almost laughed in disbelief. “Well, it’s a little too late to defend myself now—not that I had a fair trial in the first place, mind you—but I at least have to say that poison the Chief Justice speaks of is measly table salt!” With a huff, you folded your arms across your chest. “Powerful Dragon of Water my ass… If he thinks table salt can poison him…”

Wriothesley chuckled at your pouting, patting your shoulder as a sign of sympathy. “For a week-long sentence, I would have expected that you put pepper in there as well.” 

Your eyes lit up. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking!”

He nodded in agreement, humoring you as he showed you to the cafeteria, offering you a free meal that you graciously accepted.

“While a week-long sentence may be unjust for your the level of your…misdemeanor, I do still hope you can enjoy your stay here,” he said as the two of you finished up your food. 

You considered your thoughts before stating, “I might. If you keep treating me to these free meals.” 

Wriothesley laughed, the noise coming deep from his chest, and you grinned in return. 

“Oh, what would the other prisoners think if they saw their duke playing favorites?” he said in mock despair.

“So you admit I’m already your favorite?”

“Do you find pleasure in putting words in my mouth?”

“Amongst other things.” 

His eyes widened and you flushed as you realized the implication of what you had said.

“Salty water,” you clarified as you cleared your throat. “That is all I was referring to.” 

He nodded solemnly, trying his hardest to keep a straight face. “Of course. Words and salty water.”

“Exactly.”

“Noted.” After a brief pause, Wriothesley quickly changed the subject. “Before I lead you to your dormitory, let me show you my office.” 

You followed along dutifully, making sure your mouth was glued shut until the embarrassment wore off. When the door closed, he beckoned for you to have a seat on the chair in front of his desk.

“To earn your keep here, we use a currency called Credit Coupons,” he explained. “Now, typically, the most steady and secure way for an inmate to earn these is by working in the production line–heating an shaping metals. A physically demanding job even for the strongest of individuals.”

You almost broke out into a sweat at the thought. Neuvillette would definitely be getting an earful from you once you were free from this injustice. 

Wriothesley laughed at the horrified look on your face.

“But luckily for you,” he said, “by special order from the Iudex himself, it was request you do administrative work in the office with me instead.”

“Oh, my gods,” you sighed in relief. Neuvillette was safe for now. 

“Don’t get too excited yet,” he warned with a teasing lilt to his voice. “Are you sure it’s better to be trapped in here with me for seven days than to brave the production line?” 

You quirked your head to the side. “You seem friendly enough.” 

“I’m glad you think so.” He stood up from his chair, pushing it in and waiting for you to follow suit. “Though brief, I look forward to working with you.” 

“You as well.”

He nodded. “Now, it is getting late. Allow me to me conclude this tour by showing you the dormitories.” 

The thought of seeing your new bed for the week excited you. You were tired from walking around so much and you couldn’t wait to shower and collapse on a mattress—no matter how thin it may be. 

Wriothesley dropped you off at the door of your room, watching as you examined the place. You blinked slowly. 

He laughed. “Not to your liking?” 

“I’ve seen hotel rooms that look worse,” you said while shaking your head. “I can manage!” 

“If it is too uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let me know. Perhaps I can provide you with some special accommodations.”

You hid a smile. “Such favoritism already. Is this what being friends with the Chief Justice does for you here?” 

“Connections don’t quell you any favor in this part of Fontaine,” he said. “This treatment is based on your own merit.” He paused. “And the fact that the Iudex specified that he didn’t intend for this to be a genuine prison sentence.”

You almost snorted at the revelation, the pieces clicking together. “Is this his prank in retaliation for me adding salt to his water?!” you groaned, only upset because you didn’t think of this first. “What an abuse of power.”

Wriothesley chuckled. “Such is the life.”

As he got ready to leave you to your bed quarters for the night, he paused at the exit. You looked at him expectantly. 

“Did you need something?”

He shook his head. “No, not at the moment. I only wanted to say, I look forward to your assistance around the office tomorrow.”

You smiled in agreement. Who wouldn’t want a break from real life and escape to a prison ruled by a surprisingly benevolent duke? 

“Also—“ you looked up to see his sideways grin “—tomorrow’s breakfast is on me.”

With a chuckle, you found yourself agreeing to his offer. “I’ll look forward to the morning then.”

“Have a good night in your temporary home.”

As Wriothesley left the dormitory, you couldn’t shake the smile from your face. If you were going to be here for a week, you might as well make the most of it. At least with the Duke, your time wouldn’t be so bad. 

Maybe even after your sentence, you would still come and visit him.

You closed your eyes as your head landed on your pillow. It was harder than you expected. Quite uncomfortable, actually. You made a face. 

Perhaps Wriothesley could come up and visit you when this was over instead. 

[reiding-writing]

Hi 💜 can i pretty please request a fem!Reader where she looks younger than she actually is and people are often condescending to her but bf spence always has our back

(under)qualified [ s.r ]

WARNINGS: fem!reader, ageism, dick of a character that i made up, reader gets angry

spencer reid x cold!reader | hurt/comfort? | 2.1k |

series masterlist!!

a/n: so i unintentionally self projected on this and it ended up as an unintentional sequel to my cold!reader fic sorry 😭🫶

main masterlist!!

“Yes I understand that but if you’d just let me-“ Your attempt is immediately shut down by the man in front of you raising his hand like you’re a child who’s spoken out of turn.

You’d been trying for almost forty five minutes to reason with him, but every single thing that you said was dismissed like you were asking him for cookies after bed time instead of putting your two cents forward as a qualified psychologist on the mental state that the unsub you were tracking down was likely to be in.

“If you want to be useful, why don’t you go and make me a coffee? You can do that can’t you?” The look he gave you made you want to tear out your eyes so you couldn’t see him anymore and then force them down his mouth so you didn’t have to hear him anymore.

You swallow your pride with a clench of your fists, exhaling slowly through your nose. “…Yes Sir,”

“Splenda and skim,”

If he weren’t your superior you’d shove his splenda right up his asshole and watch it leak down his legs like a five year old who wets the bed.

You stuff the urge to slam the door on your exit into the back of your head, although you’re sure you are basically steaming from the ears by the time you reach the coffee machine.

You may well have been physically steaming from the ears if the looks from your teammates had anything to say about it.

“Something tells me she’s not getting along with Dr. Lancaster too well-“ Morgan’s assessment was met with agreement from Emily and a concerned glance in your direction from Spencer.

“Does anyone get along with him? Even Hotch can’t stand the guy,” Emily’s eyes turn towards where he stands in the conference room. “I still don’t get why he’s even here,”

“Strauss thinks he’s a valuable asset to the team-“ Spencer speaks as he stands, eyes still locked on your back as he leaves Morgan and Emily at the desk to make sure that you’re alright.

“Hey,” You look like your about to rip him to shreds as you turn towards him, although the minute you realise that it’s just Spencer and not the pain up your ass that is Dr. Lancaster your expression softens tenfold. “Are you- uh- Are you okay?”

That split second of venom in your facial features seems to knock the wind out of Spencer’s sails, and he’s increasingly glad that he’s not the one on the end of your rage.

“Oh i’m just grand,” You tone is dripping with sarcasm, and he watches as you unscrew one of the salt shakers and scoop a half teaspoon into the mug in front of you.

“Uh-” He has half the mind to question your actions, but the contempt that returns to your eyes as you turn them down to the coffee in front of you tells him that it’s most likely for the Doctor still in the conference room, and considering you were practically burning holes in everything you saw when you left the room yourself, he figured that this was you playing nice.

“You’d think that nobody under the age of fifty is allowed to have a PhD I swear-“ You don’t need any prompting to start spilling all of your anger for Spencer to hear.

“‘You’re too young to have a PhD’ he says, ‘go and make me a coffee’, oh I’ll make you a cup of coffee alright, and hopefully it’ll rot your intestines as you drink it,” You’re just rambling to yourself at this point, and Spencer purses his lips into a line as he listens to you, unsure whether to interject or just let you rant. “I’m a qualified psychologist for god’s sake, not a fucking coffee runner.”

He definitely knows how it feels to have your intelligence questioned because of your age, but in your case you weren’t even exceptionally young for your education, even if you looked a few years younger than you actually were.

You were 23 when you got your PhD. Which yes was a few years younger than the average person, didn’t make you any less qualified than someone like Dr. Lancaster who’d had his PhD for over two decades.

If anything it probably made you more qualified. Social sciences like Psychology changed all the time, and someone who was stuck in the mindset of what it was like twenty years ago would probably overlook things younger specialists would see immediately.

He guessed that was probably what was happening with you and Dr. Lancaster back in the conference room.

“Would you like me to speak with him?” Spencer’s tone carries nothing but sweetness, as well as a slight hesitation in the possibility of increasing your frustration rather than helping you quell it.

“It’s fine Reid, I’ve got it.” You tone is notably filled with much lest resentment as you turn down his offer, but he can still hear the lingering frustration in your words. He trails behind you regardless, following as you re-enter the conference room with the coffee mug held in your hand and a feigned smile on your face.

He’s sure you can handle yourself, he’s just there for backup. Just in case.

“There you are, I was starting to think you couldn’t even find your way to the coffee machine,” You force yourself to bite your tongue and just give him the coffee before retreating to the opposite side of the conference room to watch him drink it, ensuring a quick escape if he doesn’t take kindly to the salty beverage.

You could see the instant shift in his facial expression as he took the first sip, his eyes immediately turning towards you and Spencer with a disgusted look on his face. “You call this coffee? It’s disgusting.” He discards the cup on the table, glaring daggers into your forehead.

“Guess I’m not qualified enough to make it,” You shrug with an overly nonchalant expression. “You know what they say, you want something done right you gotta do it yourself,”

“You little-” Dr. Lancaster was the one steaming from the ears now, and Spencer had to step in to stop the two of you getting into a full blown argument.

“You know studies have shown that if you view something pessimistically before you experience it, you’re more likely come out with a negative opinion afterwards,” Spencer’s sentence accuses the doctor of mentally disregarding the coffee because of his distaste for you rather than the fact that you put half a teaspoon of salt in the drink.

You have to suppress a small smile at his interjection. Spencer Reid. Helping you get away with purposefully tampering with a superior’s cup of coffee because you were petty over his condescension. Who would’ve thought.

You can see Dr. Lancaster open his mouth to retort, but Spencer doesn’t give him the chance. “Is this the psychological profile you’re working on? There’s still a lot of gaps in it,”

Spencer reads the board with a raised eyebrow. Some of what’s written makes absolutely zero sense and he’s beginning to wonder whether Dr. Lancaster was even a ‘doctor’ at all. Although it was at least much easier to read than when you’d scrawl out your own profiles. But he’d leave that part out when talking to you about this later.

“You’ve ruled out the possibility of deluded fantasies as part of the MO?” That was the oddest part to Spencer. The unsub showed a clear repetitive pattern in how he’d kill his victims, making the idea of delusion the literal first thing to look into as part of their psychology. He glanced at you as you spoke and you gave him a shrug of your shoulders and a shake of your head that told him exactly how frustrating the last hour of your life had been.

“Are you questioning my decisions?” Dr. Lancaster’s voice was just as harsh to Spencer as it was to you, and you had half the mind to pour the rest of the coffee you made him over his head and hope the salt got in his eyes and blinded him.

“Well, I do have my Bachelor’s in Psychology so I feel I have an adequate knowledge on the subject, although I’m sure our psychological expert would be a better person to assess the holes in your profile,” Spencer gestures his head over to you as he speaks, and you can see the anger rise into Dr. Lancaster’s face like one of those baking soda and vinegar volcanoes.

By now your sure your smile at Spencer’s interjections is visible, and your not even sure that you’re trying to hide it anymore.

“How dare you suggest that my methods are inadequate,”

“With all due respect sir, psychology is an ever-changing science, and your… methods are not as effective as they used to be back when you used to work with the BAU twenty years ago,”

“We’re on a time limit here, so either you can work with me, or i’ll make my own profile and pitch it to Hotch separately,” You take a seat on the edge of the conference table and gesture your hands outwards.

Dr. Lancaster looked like he was about to blow a fuse, and if he was any older you’d be convinced he was about to have a heart attack and die right there in the middle of the room from rage.

He looked absolutely astounded at your tag teaming, and you’re sure that the both of you being in your early thirties whilst he was in his late sixties was not helping with the seething anger that was showing all over his face. “You two have some nerve speaking to your superior like this. I will be bringing this up to Chief Strauss, believe me.”

He didn’t give either of you the time to say anything else as he pushed past Spencer to leave the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Talk about immature, you’d think he was a child,” Your final jab is met by a small laugh from Spencer, and you shoot him a small smile of thanks that makes his cheeks heat up.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Spencer gives you that perfectly awkward endearing smile as he retreats to the door of the room and you almost melt at the sight.

He’d really gone out of his way to deal with the asshole plaguing your work to no real benefit of his own. You wouldn’t lie, it was kind of attractive seeing Spencer shut him down like that, but you’d keep that to yourself when you talked about this later.

“Spencer,”

You caught him with the door half open, hand he looked at you with the eyes of a puppy who’d just been praised for spinning in a circle rather than an FBI agent who’d been called his first name by his coworker.

His eyes were big and round and blinking softly at you, his pupils blending into the honey brown of his irises and making his gaze even more puppy dog like.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,”

[rahayn]

'A wallet and a wallet and a belt and a glasses case and a a case and an orb and a blanket and a cube' All at once???????

oh! and a scarf if i can swing it, but probably not tbh

[tojisprettylittlething]

Quiet House

Pairing: Husband!Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW (18+), smut, rough sex (mean backshots), dirty talk, pet names (baby, mama, pretty), praise and degradation, unprotected sex. First smut...kill me now

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ─

The house was too quiet without Megumi.

His toys weren’t scattered on the floor, his voice wasn’t humming little tunes as he usually did when playing with his puzzles, and the constant pitter-patter of his feet was replaced by silence. It wasn’t an eerie quiet, though. It was a suffocating kind, as though even the walls were watching you and Toji tonight.

Megumi had been whisked away to his friend’s house for the evening—some playdate you barely remembered agreeing to because Toji’s hand was stroking up your thigh during the conversation.

But...you had spent the past hour cleaning a kitchen that didn’t need cleaning—wiping down counters that were already spotless, reorganizing the spice rack for the third time in two days, pretending the dishes in the sink weren’t already sparkling. Your fingers moved on autopilot, but your mind was a battlefield, constantly pulled back to him.

But how could you not think about him?

Toji was stretched out on the couch like he owned the world—or at least the room. One arm rested over the back of the cushions, his fingers drumming idly, while the other hand dragged aimless circles on the ridges of his toned stomach, the pads of his fingers brushing just above the waistband of those sweatpants. Those damn sweatpants.

He wasn’t doing anything, not really. The TV mumbled in the background, replaying meaningless sports highlights, but even the faint noise seemed irrelevant. Toji didn’t need to speak or move to command the space around him. It was the way he existed—effortless and deliberate all at once, as if every molecule of air bent to his will.

And he knew it. That was the worst part. He always knew.

Your jaw tightened as you scrubbed at an invisible spot on the counter. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of looking again. You’d been careful all evening, refusing to let your gaze linger on the faint scar slashing across his lip, the ripple of muscles beneath his skin, the sharp green eyes that had already caught you once.

You heard him shift, the quiet rustle of fabric sending a jolt of awareness down your spine, but you didn’t dare glance over.

“Gonna keep pretending you’re busy over there, mama?”

His voice startled you, deep and rough-edged with amusement. It cut through the silence with ease, the lazy cadence pulling your attention against your will. He still hadn’t looked away from the screen, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told you everything you needed to know. He’d caught you—again.

You stiffened, focusing intently on straightening the salt and pepper shakers. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the quiet for once. Megumi’s not here to drive me crazy.”

He let out a low hum, finally turning his head to look at you. The weight of his gaze was like a physical thing, heavy and impossible to ignore, pinning you in place. Those sharp green eyes didn’t just see you—they sized you up, peeling away layers like a predator studying its prey.

“Nah,” he said, leaning further back, his smirk widening into something wolfish. “You’re not thinkin’ about that brat. You’re thinkin’ about me.”

Your breath hitched before you could stop it. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. He rarely was. But you weren’t about to let him win so easily.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Toji.”

His laugh was low and throaty, a dark sound that sent heat spiraling to your core. “Baby,” he drawled, sitting up slowly. He stretched as he moved, broad shoulders flexing, the kind of movement that was maddening in its casual confidence. “We’ve been married long enough. I know when you’re lyin’. And right now?”

He pushed himself off the couch, his steps deliberate as he crossed the room. The way he moved was almost predatory, his eyes locked on you like you were the only thing that mattered. His gaze swept over your frame, lingering just long enough to make your cheeks burn.

“You’re doin’ a real shitty job of it.”

You held your ground when he stopped in front of you, close enough that the heat of his body seemed to wrap around you. The kitchen felt impossibly smaller with him towering over you like that, all easy confidence and simmering danger.

“Toji—”

“Shh.” His hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a gesture that felt far more intimate than it should have. For a moment—just a moment—his eyes softened, the intensity in his gaze giving way to something unreadable. But then the corner of his mouth twitched, and the fleeting tenderness was gone, replaced by the lazy hunger that made your pulse race.

“You’re too pretty to talk back, mama,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through your chest.

Your knees nearly buckled when his other hand slid down your spine, fingers trailing deliberately before settling at the curve of your hip. He paused there, his grip firm, almost possessive, before sliding lower, his palm curving over the swell of your ass. The pressure made you inhale sharply, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as if it might anchor you.

“You miss me takin’ care of you, huh?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement. “Been too long since I reminded you who you belong to.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you shot back, but your voice wavered just enough to betray you.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, like the growl of a wolf circling its prey. His grip on you tightened as he leaned in, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear.

“Keep talkin’, baby,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as velvet and twice as dangerous. “I’ll shut you up real quick.”

You didn’t know how you ended up bent over the seat of the couch, his strong hand splayed across your lower back to keep you still. One second, you were standing there, flushed and flustered, and the next, he was tugging your panties down your thighs, humming in approval at how wet you already were.

“You see this, mama?” His voice was gravelly as he slid two fingers through your folds, spreading your arousal before smacking your ass, hard. You yelped, more from the shock than the sting. “You’re already drippin’. Don’t even try to act like you didn’t want this.”

“Toji,” you gasped, fingers clutching at the couch as he kneaded your flesh, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of your spine.

“What is it, pretty? You need somethin’? Say it.” His teasing tone made you bite your lip, heat pooling between your legs.

“I need—” You sucked in a breath as he lined himself up behind you, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

“Go on, mama. Say it.”

“I need you,” you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s what I thought.” His hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back just enough for his lips to graze your ear. “Good girl.”

He thrust into you in one slow, deliberate stroke, your body stretching to accommodate him as a choked moan spilled from your lips. He didn’t give you a chance to adjust, his pace brutal from the start, hips slamming into yours with enough force to make the couch creak beneath you.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin on skin, his low, ragged breaths mingling with your broken cries.

“Fuck, you take me so good, mama,” he growled, his hand sliding from your hair to your throat, holding you in place as he pounded into you. “Tight little pussy, made just for me.”

Your only response was a whimper, your body arching under him as his grip tightened, leaving you dizzy in the best way.

“You like this, huh?” His voice was taunting, rough and deep as he leaned down to nip at your shoulder. “Gettin’ fucked like the pretty little doll you are. Bet you wish Megumi stayed out more often so I could ruin you like this every night.”

“Toji, oh my God—”

“Yeah, mama,” he rasped, angling his hips to hit that spot that made your knees buckle. “Say my name. Louder. Let me hear you.”

You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer as he dragged you closer to the edge with every hard, deliberate thrust.

“Good girl,” he muttered, voice thick with praise. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

Your climax hit you like a freight train, your body clenching around him as you cried out, his name echoing in the quiet house. Toji didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, chasing his own release as he slammed into you one last time, spilling into you with a low groan.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths, your body still trembling as you lay draped across the couch. Toji’s heavy weight pressed against you, grounding you, his broad chest flush against your back. The warmth of his skin seeped into yours as his lips brushed lightly along the back of your neck.

“You okay, mama?” he murmured, his voice softer now, edged with an unfamiliar tenderness.

You nodded, too spent to form words, and he let out a low chuckle. His hand smoothed over your side, tracing lazy patterns on your hip as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he muttered, his lips lingering just a little longer. “Always keepin’ me on my toes.”

A quiet laugh escaped you, though it was muffled as you buried your face into the couch cushion. “You’re so annoying,” you mumbled, your voice tinged with exhaustion and warmth.

“Yeah?” He shifted slightly behind you, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked down at you, his smirk as infuriating as it was endearing. “But you love me.”

You rolled your eyes, though the soft smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. Turning your head, you met his gaze, the sharp green of his eyes holding that familiar mixture of mischief and affection that always seemed to disarm you.

“And you’re lucky I do,” you shot back, but your voice was quieter now, your hand coming up to rest on his forearm.

He leaned down, brushing a kiss against your forehead, and his hand slipped to the small of your back, pulling you closer. You melted into the comfort of his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing soothing the racing of your own.

“Yeah,” he muttered, the smirk softening into something genuine as he settled back down, his arm curling possessively around your waist. “Damn lucky.”

And as you lay there, tangled together on the couch, the chaos of the world outside seemed to fade away. For once, there was nothing else—just the sound of your breaths evening out, the steady weight of his presence, and the quiet certainty that, somehow, he was exactly where you belonged.

[romancingmr-b]

Grasping for straws: looking at reflections

For the past 6 months we have been searching for any sign of Luke in Nicolas photos. We search for clues and connections. We hope so much for his connection to her we look in reflections of sunglasses, fork,suitcases, wine glasses and now salt shakers… we try and see what’s not truly there. We need to remember silence is more powerful than any post. (Unless it’s obvious of course) Luke not wishing Nic a happy birthday speaks volumes. Nicola tagging all her friends in her birthday posts but not the one of her at dinner? If it was JD why wouldn’t she tag him? She does in every other post… who’s the mystery photographer? The silence is POWERFUL.

[reaper2187]

Regina george x masc reader

Regina George was the queen bee of North Shore High School. With her long blonde hair, perfect figure, and designer wardrobe, she was the epitome of popularity. She ruled the school with an iron fist, and no one dared to cross her. However, there was one person who dared to challenge her, and that was the new girl in town, Y/N.

Y/N was unlike any other girl at North Shore High. She had short hair, wore masculine clothes, and was not afraid to speak her mind. Her confidence and individuality caught Regina's attention from the first day she set foot in the school. But what really intrigued Regina was Y/N's complete disregard for her social status.

As Regina and her clique, the Plastics, watched Y/N from afar, they couldn't help but be curious about her. They had never seen anyone like her before. It was almost as if she didn't care about fitting into their high school hierarchy. And that's what made Regina want her even more.

One day, Regina decided to approach Y/N in the cafeteria during lunch. As she strutted over to her, all eyes were on the queen bee and the new girl. Y/N looked up and met Regina's gaze, not backing down or showing any signs of intimidation.

'Hey cutie, can I borrow your salt?' Regina asked, flashing her signature smile.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unamused by Regina's flirting. 'Sure,' she replied, sliding the salt shaker over to her.

Regina smirked, taking note of Y/N's lack of interest in her charm. She sat down next to her and struck up a conversation, inundating her with compliments and trying to win her over. But Y/N remained unbothered, talking to Regina as if she was just another person.

After that lunch encounter, Regina found herself thinking about Y/N constantly. She had never met anyone who was so unimpressed by her status and beauty. It was a challenge that piqued her interest, and she was determined to make Y/N hers.

As the days went by, Regina continued to pursue Y/N, trying to get her to join the Plastics. She even set up a makeover session for her with her stylist and bought her designer clothes. But despite Regina's efforts, Y/N refused to conform to their standards of beauty and popularity.

Slowly but surely, Regina began to see the world through Y/N's eyes. She started to question why she felt the need to control and manipulate those around her. She had never truly been herself, always trying to fit into the mold of what society deemed as perfect. But Y/N didn't care about any of that, and it was refreshing to Regina.

One day, Regina invited Y/N to a party at her house. Y/N accepted, curious to see how the queen bee lived. As the night went on, Y/N found herself having a good time, despite the superficiality and drama of the party. But what really surprised her was when Regina pulled her aside and confessed her feelings for her.

'I know I can be a mean girl, but when I'm around you, I want to be better. You make me want to be a better person,' Regina said, looking into Y/N's eyes.

Y/N was taken aback by Regina's vulnerability, and for the first time, she saw the real person behind the queen bee facade. She couldn't deny her feelings for Regina either, and they shared a passionate kiss.

From that moment on, Regina and Y/N were inseparable. The Plastics were shocked when Regina announced that she was stepping down as queen bee and that Y/N would be taking her place. They couldn't understand why Regina would give up her power and popularity for someone like Y/N.

But Regina didn't care. She had found true happiness with Y/N. She no longer felt the need to be anyone else other than herself. And with Y/N by her side, she no longer craved the attention and validation of others.

As for Y/N, she had found love in the most unexpected place. She never thought she would fall for someone like Regina, but their love was undeniable. They were two individuals who had broken free from the confines of high school stereotypes and found solace in each other.

The once mighty queen bee and the rebellious new girl had defied all odds and created their own path. They didn't fit into any high school clique, but they found a home in each other's arms.

Years later, when they both looked back at their high school experience, they realized that it wasn't the popularity or the social hierarchy that mattered. It was the people who truly saw them for who they were and accepted them without judgement. And for Regina and Y/N, that person was each other.

[hihhasotherfixations]

Can you make a Drabble of reader telling price she has a teen from a previous relationship and the teen doesn’t trust price with their mom.

Why of course UwU Hope it came out like you wanted!

CW: fem!reader, no further warnings

Word Count: 1825

Dating in his late thirties wasn’t a thing Price was used to. Nor was it something he ever expected to happen. But you? You turned his world upside down.

It had been a casual thing. Price and you, both a little unsure, seeing each other every other week. Sure, deployments sometimes got in the way, but it was consistent. It was nice.

But casual slowly started to change to something more. And now, you had invited him to your house. For dinner, and to come meet your son.

Price knew of your previous relationship and divorce, the two of you had spent several nights at dinner tables bashing the things your ex did - much to both of your enjoyment. So he knew about your son. He was fifteen now, right around that age where everything parents do are wrong and unjust.

But you had explained your son was not like that. He was kind, a complete mama’s boy. He was your rock and your life and everything Price heard about him made him gain an appreciation for the kid.

Surely if he was like that, meeting him wouldn’t be a problem, right?

Well, that was the attitude he’d went into this dinner with. And he was sorely regretting not preparing more thoroughly now.

He’d been called away on a mission last minute, getting back into the country literally an hour before he had to be at your house.

So now here he sat, hair still damp from his quick shower, clothes the fastest thing he could find - a crumpled dress-shirt stuffed into maroon pants - and an overall flustered look to him.

After all, he just flew across the continent twice within 38 hours.

He’d tried to be casual, tried to introduce himself well to the kid. You seemed to approve of everything he’d said. But judging from the scrutinising stare down he was currently getting, your son didn’t think the same.

“So… Do you know what you wanna study after high school?” Price asked, trying to keep the conversation afloat, but it’d felt like a sinking ship for the last twenty minutes.

In response, the boy just shrugged and Price hummed, rolling the pasta on his plate with his fork a bit, trying to think of anything to say.

“Lew.” You sighed at your son.

“What?” He huffed back, twirling the salt shaker on the table. “It’s a stupid question. I don’t know yet. Of course I don’t.”

At that, Price watched as you turned a little more stern, looking at the kid. “Then you can say that politely. Come now, John tried his very best to be here today.”

Glancing at you, Lewis scoffed, giving Price a brief glare that made the military captain tilt his head in both confusion and intrigue. After all, he did nothing wrong as far as he knew.

“Sorry to have brought uncertainty.” He decided to speak up, getting the teen’s attention. “It’s sometimes a bit dodgy with my line of work.”

What was supposed to be a lighthearted comment meant to shed light, instead caused Lewis to glare at Price, slamming his fork down “You gonna leave my mom behind too then?” He spat and you gasped.

“Young man, that’s quite enough!” You started but Price then held up his hand.

“I get it, Lewis.” The man sighed. “Trust me I do. It’s been something your mother and I have talked about a lot.” He started, clasping his hands together in front of himself, elbows on the table as he put his thoughts into words. “My work is… well, shifty.” He sighed. “I’m not a fan of it, but it is what it is. I can’t guarantee that I’ll always be around, that I won’t ever disappear with minimum notice.”

Lewis’ jaw clenched as he listened. But Price kept going, because the kid was fifteen, and he didn’t feel like sugarcoating it. He was smart and old enough.

“But I can guarantee this: I will always keep your mother - and if you wish, you - in the loop. I won’t just leave. I’m not that kind of man.”

Crossing his arms, Lewis leaned back in his chair. “What kind of man are you then? Military big shot?”

Chuckling a little at that, Price looked at the boy. “Tell me this, do you trust your mom?” He motioned to you at that and, confused, Lewis nodded.

“Of course, why?”

“Then trust her that she won’t date some pompous asshole who can’t see beyond his own rank.”

Pursing his lips, Lewis had nothing to say to that, grumpily looking down at his plate instead.

“Kid-“

“Don’t call me that!” He snapped and John shut up. Almost instinctively, his military commander side wanted to rear up, scold him for yelling at his senior, but he restrained himself, instead looking at the angry teen. “You can’t just barge in here, into mom’s life, and expect me to take it laying down!”

Hearing that, you leaned forward onto the table. “Lewis, we’ve talked about this. You agreed to this dinner, you cannot act like this!”

A frown was on your face, almost borderline angry - something John hadn’t ever seen before.

But Lewis didn’t budge, now looking at you. “I won’t stop, mom! It’s obvious, I mean look at him!” He angrily gestured to the brunet, making John’s brows furrow.

“What about him?”

“Don’t make me say it out loud!”

“Lewis.” Your voice was hard and concise.

“He’s not good enough for you!” Lewis then yelled, a silence immediately falling.

Hearing it, Price clenched his jaws, a tightness forming in his chest as he then looked over to you. You held a frown, looking at your son.

“Lew…”

“I’m not hungry.” Without another word, the boy shoved his plate away and got up, storming off.

Speechless, you went to open your mouth, to get up to chase after him, but Price stopped you by placing his hand over yours, his eyes calm, hiding the hurt as he just looked at you.

“Just let him go. Speaking from experience, it’s best to let him cool off and gather his thoughts.”

Conflicted, you looked at him. “I- I don’t get why he’s being like this…” You said softly and John squeezed your hand, a loaded sigh leaving him.

“It’s a big change for him. You can’t blame the boy.” He said, pulling his hand back as he glanced to where Lewis left. “Admittedly, I didn’t think it would go like this. But I also didn’t think he’d accept me into the dynamic instantly. Just don’t take his words to heart right now.” The captain spoke, turning his head back to face you as he then gave you a kind, little smile, the lines around his eyes crinkling gently.

Sighing, you nodded as you placed your head in your hands.

“Dinner’s great, by the way.”

At his sudden comment, you let out a startled little laugh that made John’s heart flutter.

- - - -

Sitting on your porch with a cigar, Price looked out at the night sky. After he stormed off, neither you nor him had seen any sign of Lewis. It truly did put a damper on the evening.

Smoke gently exited Price’s mouth before being picked up by the wind and blown away.

Behind him, the door then opened and he glanced back, his eyes widening a bit as he saw Lewis standing there, a sour expression on his face as he kept his eyes firmly to the ground.

“Hey.” He muttered and Price took the cigar out of his mouth.

“Hi.” He replied, analysing the teen. He didn’t seem entirely thrilled to be here, possibly sent out here by you. It made the captain want to scoff a chuckle. But he didn’t and instead patted the spot beside him where he sat on the stairs of the porch. “Wanna sit?”

“I don’t like-“

“I’ll put it out.” John shushed, holding the cigar away a little. It made Lewis look up, however.

“Aren’t those crazy expensive?”

Chuckling a little, Price crossed his ankle over his knee, pushing the cigar into the underside of his boot. “Yep. But that’s okay.”

Tentatively, Lewis walked over, sitting down besides the man.

“I have to… say sorry. For what I said.” He mumbled and John turned his head, a kinder look on his face, almost serene.

“By your mother?”

Pursing his lips, Lewis turned to look at Price, only to see an amused twinkle in the older man’s eye.

“Maybe.” He instead grumpily mumbled and John just huffed in amusement, turning to look forward as he leaned his elbows on his knees, absentmindedly starting to twirl the extinguished cigar in his hands.

“I get it, Lewis.” He started, his eyes focused on the night sky and his voice soft - almost as if he didn’t want to break the serenity of the night. “Your mom? She’s a wonderful woman. Kind, generous, sweet.” Looking down, Price then focused on his cigar. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but I really like her. And I think she likes me too. I hope so, at least.” With that, he turned his head to the teen.

Lewis was looking at him, a conflicted expression on his face.

“I don’t want to come in here to play family, kid. I’m not your dad and I won’t pretend to be.” He said and then glanced at the door. “I just want to give her what she deserves.” He nudged his head towards the house.

“What I said about you not being good enough…” Lewis mumbled and John sighed, now turning to face the teen.

“Don’t bother. Honestly, you may be right.” He hummed, leaning his head back into the porch railing. “I won’t say I’m a perfect man. Far from it. But what I said at the table is true. I will always try to do right by her. And you too - if you’ll let me.”

Contemplating, Lewis looked out from the porch.

“Why mom?” He said after a moment and Price looked at him.

“Because she’s the first one in a long time to give me a chance. Despite my job and what I’ve done.”

At that, the teen angled his head, taking the brunet beside him in. “Really? What have you done?” He asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

Seeing it, Price huffed a chuckle, pocketing the dud cigar. “That’s classified, I’m afraid.”

“Lame.” Lewis scoffed, but there was no animosity in it and Price smiled to himself.

“Tell you what.” He said, sitting upright and looking at the boy. “You give me a chance and I might tell you some stories.” He held out his hand.

Looking at it, Lewis seemed skeptical at first, glancing at the peace offering. But then he sighed and reached out, shaking hands.

“If you hurt my mom I will kick your ass.”

Laughing, John slapped the kid on the shoulder. “If I do, I’ll let you.”

[procyonloser]

"Ouija?" Lute asked, raising an eyebrow as Adam waved a handful of smouldering sage around his apartment. "One of the guys probably just faked it, Adam. That stuff isn't real. Ghosts aren't real."

Adam laughed spitefully in her general direction, switching up from sage to a water bottle full of holy water he'd borrowed from a Catholic church. He began spraying it on his furniture, mumbling pieces of prayers that he remembered from his bar mitzvah.

"Adam, come on, you're being ridiculous." Lute huffed, walking over and around his couch to grab the bottle out of his hands. "The devil was not speaking to you!"

"Yes, he was, you dumb bitch!" Adam yelled in her face, snagging it back. "I was trying to control the planchet the entire time, and you know I'm the biggest guy in the band. There's no way any of them had more strength than me. I could feel it too, like this shadowy presence around me - then the table shook!" Adam pointed at an extremely heavy solid wood table in the corner than now had the ashen remains of a ouija board on it. "It said it was the devil, it said it was Lucifer!"

"Adam, you know I love you," Lute said flatly. "But the devil is not going to use a ouija board to ask for your cellphone number and say you have a fat ass."

"Says you," Adam said with a glare, grabbing his salt shaker and tossing it over his shoulder. Lute just sighed, running a hand down her face.

In hell, Lucifer wondered when the right time to text Adam would be, he didn't want to seem too desperate. Maybe he'd send him a cute message written in blood on his bathroom mirror first, that was romantic, right?