#wheel of time book 12

[jpiercecreative]

“A fount of power”

Egwene fan art /// scene from The Gathering Storm

[created with Midjourney] /// imagined by @wheeloftime.animated — my IG for animated WOT imaginings!

[sugarcube-stillabookworm]

so. Gawyn exists

[up-north-values]

Dai Shan al'Lan Mandragoran, Lord of the Seven Towers, Lord of the Lakes, True Blade of Malkier, Defender of the Wall of First Fires, Bearer of the Sword of the Thousand Lakes, May He Sever the Shadow

"Doomed by the narrative" is sexy and all but i think the narrative wanting to save a character who is utterly set on dooming themselves isnt as much of a thing and it's so good as a concept

[ultimateempath]

This thought isn't going to leave me alone until I write it down so I'm just gonna say it

STANLEY PINES HAS SEXUAL TRAUMA.

The wheel of shame on the website straight up acknowledges that Stan has done sex work and in general engaged in sexual activies, willingly or otherwise, to survive.

Not only this, but you also have to remember that he's been to prison an unknown number of times in three different countries.

The kinds of horrible things known to go on within prison walls already provide some pretty rough implications, but this combined with the fact that, at least at first, Stan didn't seem to know the language(s) of those countries well enough to understand his fellow inmates and was likely more heavily targeted for being a foreigner to begin with....it paints a pretty upsetting picture to say the least.

I don't think any of us really thought about this aspect of his past back when the show was still going because like...he was a character in an animated Disney show and we were like 12, characters with this kind of dark complexity to them were a fresh & new concept to us and a lot of Stans past was toned down and/or put in a comedic light since it was meant to be a kids show.

But now that we're adults and Alex has acted accordingly by targeting older audiences with the new book and website, we've gotten a much clearer and more serious look into just how horrifically bad Stans time on the street really was...and honestly? I think more people should be talking about it.

[pseudowho]

Fairs and carnivals were made for the winter, you felt; and the winter, made for them. Your friends had long-since abandoned you for the promise of an early night. Their company had been replaced with the sweetsmoke smells of toasting marshmallows, steaming stalls of culinary delights, and the tangled maelstrom of those in coats and scarves and gloves and hats.

Still, their presence was fleeting. A sting of loneliness followed in their wake.

You jingled your pocket; just a pair of coins left. You looked around you, and, hearing two bickering voices, you slowed to a halt beside the bumper cars. Two tall men argued; one (very tall, white-haired) was winning, while the other (not quite as tall, blond and scowling) was giving in simply for peace and quiet.

You stifled a laugh. You traded your final two pennies for violence. You bopped on your heels in the queue behind the two squabbling men. One of them, and one particularly iridescent bumper car, caught your eye. Your scowling man looked iridescent, too, lit up in carnival lights.

You didn't know what it was, as you settled into your bumper car seat, that set you on the path to mischief. You didn't know if it was the lights and laughter and lingering frost. You didn't know if it was the cinnamon churros that still warmed your belly. You didn't know if it was the hand-worn cool plastic steering wheel beneath your palms.

But you glanced at your scowling man, who appeared to be performing a 12-point safety check on his blue and yellow bumper car. Another giggle burst over. And, as much as you loathed yourself for it, you felt the need to show your affection in the only way you could.

So, like a little girl pushing a little boy into the mud, rather than tell him that she liked him, you chose violence. The bumper cars electrified. The air-horn sounded. The disco music began. You slammed the accelerator down.

BAM!

You slammed into the blue and yellow car in front of you. Your scowling blond looked up at you in pearl-clutching affront, his glasses thrown skew-wiff by your assault. You reversed, biting your lip. You caught his eye. His hands gripped, white-knuckled on the steering wheel...but he scoffed at you. A mockery. A blunt-bladed outrage. A dare. That was his downfall.

BAM!

Your second hit sent him careening, and your laughter ghosted in his ears as you were chased away by the other bumper cars on your mad circuit. The game was afoot.

You targeted him relentlessly. At first he cursed, and swore, and glared at you. But as the music went on, and his neat parting scruffed, throwing forward commas of blond with his scarf trailing after him, he might have smiled.

You were sure you saw one pass you, as he sent you spinning away. Perhaps it was the way your laughter caught on his jacket. Perhaps the violence was contagious; perhaps he pulled your pigtails, or flicked paper balls at you in class. Perhaps, instead, he found you crying in the library, with that same gentle smile and a book for two.

Hitting each other head-on in the eleventh hour of your tokens' time, you squealed, jolting forwards in your seat. Your cheeks ached with joy. He panted, his chest heaving, his smile lopsided and rueful. You both stayed that way, eye to eye, the music and the lights and the laughter fading away around you both, until--

BAM! BAM!

You were each hit on the flank, shunted in opposite directions and lost in the blitz. The air-horn sounded; the game was over. And, by the time the blond man stood, his head whipping from side to side, you were gone.

His smile faded. His whiskey-brown eyes flickered, an aurora in the carnival lights. He stood, alone and deflating, in a crossing field of bumper cars.

An hour passed before you could bear to leave the lights behind. You leaned against a stall, sighing as your penny-free pockets denied you a hot chocolate to walk home with. A voice sounded to your right, and you jumped with a squeak.

"Assaulting a stranger must be thirsty work. I'll buy you a drink."

A velveteen voice. An offer that would only be insistent if you did not roundly refuse him; if you did roundly refuse him, you knew, innately, that you would be safe to do so. He would not take it as a slight.

"I should be buying you a drink."

"Nonsense. You won."

"Does one really win bumper cars?"

"I didn't think so. And yet, you did."

"I still couldn't possibly--"

"You buy the next one."

Your heart faltered. You leaned back on the stall, biting your lip, your head tilted to the side. He was handsome; beautiful, really.

But in truth, it was his simmering, unbridled rage that had drawn you in. It was his scowl, that made you be mean to him in the playground. An immature excuse, you knew. You whispered, barely audible in the fading music of the fair. You felt the first flakes of snow kiss upon your lips.

"What's your name?"

"Nanami Kento."

"I would love a drink, Nanami Kento. But if you want the next one, you'll have to walk me home, because I've spent all my allowance this evening."

A chuckle, rich and deep. The man named Nanami Kento turned to look at the carnival lights, and found he could bear to leave them behind, if it were with you.

"It does feel a bit that way, doesn't it?" Kento mused aloud, setting his last handful of coins on the counter, and receiving two cups of childhood in return. You bit the fingers of your gloves to receive your paper cup with bare palms.

His eyes glimmered down at you. He offered his arm.

"How long is the walk?"

"Not long. Twenty minutes, maybe."

"Good. I was worried that if I didn't have time to finish this one, you wouldn't invite me in for the second."

[knife-eared-jan]

Ok, as much as I have been hyping and playing 12 hours a day since it got out (still in Act 1 though, bc I'm a slowass player and completionist), I feel like I have to say something that is getting hard to ignore at this point... and I wanna preface this by saying that I am loving a lot of aspects of the game and I adore the writing when it comes to the companions, who I am obsessed with.

And maybe this will get better yet, as I generally heard the writing picks up once the story progresses beyond picking up all companions..

But I'm starting to get quite upset at the way the writing just does NOT care about the established lore and the politics of Thedas like at all, when to me - and many others - that richness, nuance and depth of the world is what makes the games so special.

(Spoilers below)

I looked past the way the elves in Arlathan just seemed to know that their gods are evil and Solas is "kind of a dick" but was right about that. When, you know, that made him basically the Satan of their pantheon up to now.. It was after all the tutorial stage of the game and I understand that you wanna ease newcomers into the lore. I could also handwave it in-universe with Morrigan being there - she could have filled the Veiljumpers in on the discoveries of the Inquisition or even what the Well told her.

It felt a bit weird that our contacts in every other faction just accepted this huge revelation without a blink, but again it was the early stages and I also get that having a discussion about it 6 times with different faction leaders would have been incredibly tedious. So I ignored that. And yeah, at least the First Warden found it hard to swallow.

The fact that they brushed aside the gods finding elven subjects - many of whom after all still worship them - with one sentence from Solas was disappointing though. Instead they chose to ally them with the Venatori and the Antaam who are the pure evil factions with no nuance or motive to side with them besides a comic book level of hunger for power. They didn't even throw in a sentence about the gods maybe speaking to the Venatori through the Archdemons to get them on their side or how it's very ironic that the Venatori, who want to make Tevinter great again, stoop to working with the pantheon of the people they oppress because they see them as lesser and other. No political exploration of the massive lore implications at all.

It really hit me when I picked up Davrin and he commented how Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain blighting the world would really endear us (elves) to the rest of Thedas - this was the first time anyone actually mentioned the political impact of the elven gods being real, freed, evil and blighted on modern day elves at all, when this should be HUGE. It should be ugly. It should be complex. It should be explored in as many examples as bloodmagic and the oppression of mages was in DA2. It should be a central point of Act 1. (This btw made me love Davrin so much in that moment because this was the first time in the game for me when I actually felt like talking to a Dragon Age elf and even just that one line felt like home.)

And now I just did Taash's first companion quest and it seems Qunari lore is also being ignored (except for the gender aspect of it, which I look forward to). Taash's mum was a scholar and had a baby and the only problem about that was that it could breathe fire and was special but otherwise all would have been dandy? Like she would have just been allowed to keep Taash long enough to find that out about her baby if she was living under the Qun? That directly contradicts everything we know about how the Qunari's culture around reproduction and childcare works.

Sorry to be negative and talking myself into a rage - I know it's not something people want to see rn. But like, I realise you have to brush over some lore intricacies for brevity and to make it digestible for new players. But this is a world initially inspired by Wheel of Time and ASOIAF, both of which are interesting because of the depth of ficitional cultures, lore and politics, and hence it's also what gives Dragon Age its appeal. And now they take us to the most politcally interesting areas on the world map and just get rid of all of political depth?

That's really disappointing. Imagine if Winds of Winter dropped all political themes just because there's several previous books and it's been some a lot of years.

Also, I managed to play DA2 before I ever played Origins and they could introduce me to a vast established background of lore just fine back then.

Sorry. Rant over. But I had to get that out of my system.

[duckprintspress]

Duck Prints Press Kinks Your October!

Love prompt-a-day challenges? So do we, which is why we thought it would be fun to put together our own Kinktober list – assembled collaboratively with input from interested Duck Prints Press contributors. And now here we are! Welcome to the Duck Prints Press Kinks-Your-Tober challenge – 31 days of prompts, three prompts per day, loads of horny ideas there for the taking!

This is a rules-light challenge with no minimum word count or minimum art amount or whatnot. We’re kinking up your October, so anything goes! Pick one prompt per day or mix-and-match all three. Create fiction, art, graphics, playlists, or whatever else floats your boat. Fanworks or original works welcome. Combine our list with other October lists or don’t. Anything goes!! The only thing we won’t tolerate? Intolerance: no kinkshaming, shipshaming, fandom hate, etc.

We’re not reblogging or boosting works; this is a lowkey, for-fun challenge for y’all and for us. But, if you post your accurately tagged work to AO3, we encourage you to add it to the Kinks-Your-Tober 2024 collection.

Also, feel free to come hang with us on our Book Lover’s Server!

HAPPY KINKING, Y’ALL!

Full list in text form (read more):

Oct. 1: breathplay – sentient creature bestiality – collars Oct. 2: incubus/succubus – heat sex – breast worship Oct. 3: wax play – stone top – wartenberg wheel Oct. 4: xenophilia – human furniture – tailfucking Oct. 5: somnophilia – roleplaying – piercings Oct. 6: age play – oviposition – rough sex Oct. 7: nipple orgasm – suspension bondage – wireplay Oct. 8: service top – watersports – clothing kink Oct. 9: public use – tentacles – breeding kink Oct. 10: pervertable – come inflation – cigar/ash play Oct. 11: pet play – consensual non-consent – hair kink Oct. 12: knifeplay – mutual masturbation – sensation play Oct. 13: praise kink – fucking machine – wing kink Oct. 14: ice play – magical healing dick – safeword use Oct. 15: boot worship – clit/cock warming – melolagnia Oct. 16: biting – cock-and-ball torture – rut sex Oct. 17: sex work – size kink – hand/finger kink Oct. 18: exhibitionism – face sitting – underwater sex Oct. 19: blood play – vaginal/anal plug – merpeople Oct. 20: belly bulge – chastity – figging Oct. 21: objectification – voice kink – first time Oct. 22: lingerie kink – dollification – fisting Oct. 23: fire play – pampering – self-cest Oct. 24: handcuffs – hemipenes/hemiclits – glory hole Oct. 25: voyeurism – double penetration – S&M Oct. 26: lacatation – orgasm delay or denial – kneeling Oct. 27: overstimulation – dry humping – android/cyborg Oct. 28: dendrophilia – creature shifter – impact play Oct. 29: public sex – omorashi – electrical play Oct. 30: sex pollen – cunnilingus/blow job – humiliation Oct. 31: sex toys – power bottom – knotting

[fauchart]

S?? E?? - 'When Snakey Met Annie...'

An early season Bob-centric episode in which Ann finds Snake again after he's robbed her diner and, charmed and stupid, she tries to get him to date her - he's entirely uninterested until she mentions living across the penitentiary. The wheels start to turn and all of a sudden, he welcomes the idea... Meanwhile, Bob had been reading self-improvement books (anger management, how to let go of grudges, revenge isn't the answer etc) and was on his very best behaviour, planning on waiting out his sentence and come back to society a changed man, ready for a fresh start... But when the opportunity to escape is presented as readily as it is here, he shrugs off all of his good decisions, throws his book above his shoulder and switches back to crazed maniac in an instant - and back to hunting Bart he goes! Though the focus of the episode will be Bob and Bart, several times throughout the episode there will be appearances of Snake trying to drop the charade with Ann now that he got what he wanted - but each time he'll have to keep up the farce for one reason or another;

(Listen, Snake growing a conscience and suddenly refusing to violate carpool lane rules for a one-off joke is hilarious to me. Don't look at me like that)

While their B-Plot is going on and intermittently shows them fleeing the law by car in gradually stupider situations - Bob has managed to corner Bart against the big window pane of the Mall. As he lifts his knife, about to strike... Snake's car suddenly crashes through that window and flies out of the mall above Bart, before ramming straight into Bob and splattering him on the pavement. The end of a sequence parodying the Mall Car Chase scene from the Blues Brothers.

"Dude, that was not a shortcut." Cut to both Bob and Snake getting handcuffed. Snake looks a little more sincere when he says "I'll call you!" to Ann-Doreen as the cops make him sit in the car. Mirroring that, Bob says "I'll get you!" to Bart as the ambulance takes him away. Roll credits.

WELL THAT WAS A LONG ONE. LOL. I worked hard on this one, so for once I'll say; please reblog and give me your thoughts! I hope you liked it!!

BONUS INFOS:

This would be the second episode with Ann-Doreen (outside of like, crowd shots and other non-speaking appearances in the background) and the one to properly set up the relationship she has with Snake. Lots of fun for that poor bugger!

I've made all the panels rectangular because I wanted to try and work in a format that's similar to actually watching the show - it's not 16:9 (nor square like it should technically be for early seasons) but I think we get the feeling anyway :]

That one other guy in the prison is just this random unnamed prisoner from 12x10 'Pokey Mom'. His first appearance would thus be in that ep I made, since it predates season 12!

Also here's me knowing in advance I'm putting way too much effort into this post:

[kattyysims]

Autumn Core Challenge | The Sims 4

don’t click me

   With my favorite season being fall, I wanted to create a mini cozy challenge to do a let's play with! This "challenge" will take you through an autumn bucket list, and all the cozy aesthetics ~ meant to be played during the rainy fall season (at least where I'm from).

Required Packs: Seasons, Discover University, Spooky Stuff.

Extra Packs: Get to Work, Cats & Dogs, Paranormal Stuff, High School Years, Movie Hangout Stuff, Get Together.

~ Not a must have but required for some objectives.

Aspiration: Best Selling Author

Traits: Bookworm, Creative, and 1 free trait.

Sim Likes: Rain, baking, sweaters, candles, baths, movies, lofi, reading, cafes.

Skills: Baking, writing.

Season: Fall

~ Options Menu > Game Options > Environment > Seasons _ Seasons Length > 28 Days

Mods (Optional): Shorter University Degrees by The Peridot Project.

~ Not required but makes it easier ~ since the normal 12 credits takes up so much time.

Assets: Small cozy home, a cat, a small bakery.

Business: Bakery (Optional)

~ If you'd like an extra challenge, own a bakery on the side!

Education: Major - Communications or Language & Literature, Elective - Baking

Holiday: Spookyfest

~ (Open the seasons calendar, and create a holiday - add Spooky Spirit, Trick or Treat, and Wear Costumes.

   Your sim LOVES to read, write, and bake, she also has a small furry companion. Growing up she always loved reading books which led her to majoring in language and literature, with dreams of one day being a best-selling author. She loves all things fall and cozy, and thrives during the season. But not without conditions, she must drink at least one cup of coffee a day and loves visiting new cafes.

Objectives:

Master the baking skill. (Get to Work)

Graduate with at least a 3.8 GPA. (Discover University)

Own a 4-star bakery. (Get to Work) (Optional)

Publish 3 successful books.

Finish reading 4 books.

Become companions with your cat. (Cats & Dogs)

Drink one cup of coffee a day.

Have a 3 sim friend group.

~~~

Go to a cafe at least once a week. (Get Together)

Host a Spooky Party and get gold reward. (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a pumpkin patch (you can download one from the gallery). (Spooky Stuff)

Carve pumpkins (pumpkin carving station). (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a haunted house. (Next to the ferris wheel in Copperdale ~ High School Years.)

Befriend a ghost.

Play in a pile of leaves. (Seasons)

Watch Sims of the Dead. (Movie Hangout Stuff)

Go to a movie theater.

Stay the night in a haunted house residential. (Paranormal Stuff)

Commune with the departed. (Séance Table) (Paranormal Stuff)

Have a picnic.

Find a partner to go skating with. (Seasons)

Harvest an apple tree.

episode 1

[rispwr]

Take care of me - J.JK - mini

Sypnosis : you haven’t gone to school or even touched your phone due to your flu. jungkook rushes to your apartment to take care of you

Genre : FLUFFFLUFFFF

Note : i love this couple. Soo the mini jk fics are kinda connected?? It’s the same couple and i just wrote this. It’s 12:22 am rn, ikr so lateeee but anyway hope you guys like this

You hadn’t been able to go to school for the past few days. Your body ached, your nose was stuffed, and the fever had drained every ounce of energy you had. To make matters worse, using your phone felt like a chore.

your head pounding every time you tried to focus on the screen.

Jungkook, your ever loving boyfriend, had been texting you nonstop since your absence started.

You knew it wasn’t intentional, but you hadn’t been able to get the strength to reply.

Jungkook sat in his car outside your apartment, gripping the steering wheel anxiously. He’d tried calling again just before coming, but it had gone straight to voicemail.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Grabbing the spare key you’d given him for emergencies, he decided that this was definitely an emergency.

He climbed the stairs to your apartment with a bag of food in hand, hoping that whatever he brought would make up for whatever wrong he might’ve done. His heart pounded in his chest as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Baby?” he called out, his voice laced with worry. The quiet of your apartment felt unsettling, and he quickly walked toward your room.

What he saw made his breath hitch.

You were curled up in bed, tissues scattered all over the nightstand and floor, your books and papers unorganized on your desk. Your face was pale, your lips dry, and your eyes looked heavy and tired, barely able to stay open.

“Fuck- shit… are you okay, Y/N?” Jungkook asked, rushing to your side. He knelt by your bed, his hand reaching out to softly caress your hair.

You blinked at him, barely registering his presence.

“Fuck, you’re not,” he mumbled to himself, guilt clear in his tone. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, baby…” His voice cracked slightly, and his fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“Not your fault, Kook…” you murmured weakly. “Just tired… s’all.”

He shook his head, leaning closer. “No, you don’t. You’re not okay. I’m getting you meds, alright? Wait here.”

Before you could protest, he was gone, his footsteps echoing as he rushed out of your apartment.

Jungkook drove faster than usual to the nearest drugstore, his mind racing as he grabbed fever reducers, cold medicine, and a few electrolyte drinks. He added a packet of lozenges and a small bottle of hand sanitizer before heading to the checkout counter.

The thought of you being alone and sick made him feel terrible. He could’ve been there sooner.

he should’ve been there sooner.

The guilt was eating away at him as he paid and rushed back to your place.

When he got back, you were exactly where he’d left you, your eyes fluttering open slightly as you heard the sound of the door.

“Here, baby,” Jungkook said softly as he placed the bags on the nightstand. He knelt beside you again, holding up the medicine and a bottle of water. “Just drink this, okay? It’ll help.”

You gave him a weak look, your lips barely curling into a smile. “Kook, you’re gonna get infected if you keep staying this close to me,” you murmured.

He grinned at you, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “I won’t. Trust me.”

“Kookie…”

“You’re not convincing me,” he said, cutting you off as he placed the medicine in your hand. “Now, drink this, and I’ll clean up the room for you. You rest there and be pretty, alright?”

Despite your fever, you raised a brow at him, your voice dry but teasing. “You’re really gonna catch it if you keep kissing me. You’ve got a match in two days.”

He leaned forward and kissed your forehead anyway, smiling at the way you weakly rolled your eyes. “I won’t be there if you’re not gonna be there cheering for me,” he joked.

“Kook…” you groaned softly, too tired to argue.

“Just rest, baby. I’ll take care of everything,” he said firmly, standing up to begin tidying your room.

You watched him move around the room, picking up tissues, organizing your books, and straightening out the mess you’d made while studying.

“I’ll even do your notes later,” he said over his shoulder, glancing at you with a small smile. “Just close your eyes for now, okay?”

You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t have to go through all this trouble, but your body was too weak to argue. Instead, you let your eyes drift shut, the sound of him humming as he cleaned drifting you to sleep.

A few hours later, youwake up, your body still heavy but your fever slightly less intense. The room was darker now, lit only by the soft glow of your desk lamp.

You turned your head slightly, and there he was, sitting at your desk with a pen in hand, writing in your notebook. His brows were furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly pursed as he writes notes from your textbooks.

Your chest warmed at the sight, a faint smile spreading across your face.

“Kook,” you croaked softly, your voice weak from sleep.

He turned immediately, his eyes lighting up when he saw you awake. “Hey,” he said, setting the pen down and walking over to your bed. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged weakly. “Still awful, but…” You trailed off, looking up at him with a small smile. “Seeing you helps.”

He smiled back, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good. That’s my job.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you murmured, glancing at the clean room and his notebook on the desk.

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “I know how much you need those notes, and I can’t just sit around while you’re like this.”

“I love you, Kook,” you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

Your body may have been feeling weak, but your heart felt more alive than ever.

“I love you too, baby,” he replied softly, his hand brushing against your hair.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wheels up [S. R]

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer has just been released from prison and things seem to get complicated when Mr. Scratch attacks again. You want to know what's going on with your boyfriend, but when you confront him, you don't expect him to yell at you like he does.

contents: spoilers for season 12-13, directly based on the episode of the same name, established relationship, hurt/comfort, spencer being mean for a moment, mentions of migraines and schizophrenia, apologies, crying and I think that's it.

To say that you were worried was an understatement, because to cut all the tension around the team you would no longer even need a knife but a sword.

You had just gotten over the bitter pill of the fact that your boyfriend had been unjustifiably imprisoned when now Scratch had done this: the ambush, Walker's death, Emily's kidnapping… he just couldn't seem to get enough of this sick game.

“We also never stopped to ask why Scratch was in Honduras in the first place,” Simmons murmured next to you.

García, he and you were trying to review as best as possible the existing research on Peter Lewis that you found in your deceased friend's office to see if you could discover any other details, even if it were the slightest thing that could reveal the whereabouts of your unit leader. 

“Reid'll figure this out. “He's really amazing at this kind of thing.”

Garcia had barely finished saying this when a roar made her jump in her place and look back. Spencer Reid had just furiously thrown a book against the glass windows. You exchanged a worried look with your friend and the three of you silently agreed to go to the meeting room to investigate what was happening.

When the doctor arrived, he began to rant about what he had managed to discover. He talked about hallucinogenic plants found in Honduras and how this was related to Scratch, but you honestly couldn't pay attention to anything he was saying. You could only focus on the purple spots around his eyes, his messy hair jumping every time he said something, the sweat that glistened on his forehead, the erratic and rushed tone of his words and how he constantly rubbed his face or neck. 

Spencer wasn't well. 

You had seen him like this when he had feared he was developing an outbreak of schizophrenia and you had hated every second you had accompanied him to get tested, every second of uncertainty, every time you knew his vision was blurring. And now this was a thousand times worse, because you didn't even know how to help him. Shit, you didn't even know if he wanted your help.

While he was in prison he had refused to see you many times and it had broken your heart every time. He claimed that he didn’t want other prisoners to see you talking to him because they would try to use you to threaten him or that he didn’t want you to see the state he was in because he feared that after seeing the bruises and wounds you would no longer love him.

You respected him, but at the same time you felt that he was building a barrier between you so that in case he couldn't get out of there you wouldn't be tied to a prisoner and could live your life normally. That was why when Emily managed to build a solid case to prove his innocence you felt like you were going to die of joy, and when you saw him leave the prison the first thing you did was run into his arms to make sure he was safe.

But Spencer wasn't, because you knew he had only left there so he could help look for his mother: Diana Reid. During the course of everything you had barely seen him, you two were too busy with your own affairs to have a moment as a couple, but even so when you solved everything you let him go with her; after all they deserved it and you were happy that he had a quiet moment.

But Peter Lewis seemed to have other plans.

“What?” Spencer asked, noticing the way Penelope was looking at him. She looked like she was about to cry behind her blue glasses and you felt sorry for her.

“You threw a book at a window. It was jarring”

“Took me 60 minutes to deduce what should have taken me 60 seconds,” he muttered, clearly sounding furious with himself, “and if Emily dies because I was too slow, I'll be throwing a lot more than books.”

“Spencer” you tried to stop him, but he had already started on his way to the exit.

You always wanted to believe that you were his weak point, he had told you that on more than one occasion. When the team couldn't reason with him, they sent you instead.

Reid will do anything you tell him, Morgan used to say, whether it's convincing him about something silly between friends or something more serious. 

And so it was, because every time he was upset all it took was for you to make flirtatious eyes at him and steal a kiss for him to forget about it.

One day you're going to be my downfall, did you know that? he used to laugh. You're going to ask me to bring the stars down from the sky and I'll have to figure out a way to do it because I don't know how to say you no.

However, this time he didn't seem to understand any reason. He was just walking towards the exit and you were stumbling after him to catch up with his quick pace.

“Spencer,” you insisted, reaching out to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. You didn't expect him to stop abruptly to the point where you collided with his chest, in the middle of the desolate hallway you had arrived at.

“What?”

The sharp tone and angry look he gave you unnerved you slightly, but you managed to clear your throat in search of your voice.

“Honey, it's obvious that you're not fine. You need to rest"

"Rest?" he spat, incredulous. “Do you think I can think of resting when we have a situation like this?”

“That's not what I meant. I'm just saying that no one expects you to be here after what happened, you can at least take a break” 

The sigh he let out was enough for you to know that whatever was coming was surely not good.

“Huh yeah? And what is that break I'm going to take going to cost us? Emily’s life?”

“You know I'm as worried as you are.”

“I'm not worried, I'm sick. I'm sick of this damn case, I'm sick of one thing after another happening to us and I'm sick of failing." 

"I know but…"

“No,” he interrupted you, leaning back when you tried to lay a hand on him. “There's no but. Today I don't need you to tell me what I have to do” 

“I'm not telling you what to do, I'm asking you to take care of yourself. How much sleep have you even had? When was the last time you ate?"

Your tone of voice had come out more recriminating than you intended and if you were already tense, this exchange was not helping at all.

Hearing no response, you continued.

“If you're not going to rest, at least let me help you.”

You wanted him to have the confidence to tell you anything, to be able to explain why he was acting so strange or to at least take two minutes to admit that things weren't right. But Spencer had changed a lot in that prison, because if before it was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, now it seemed practically impossible. You were the only one he dared to do it with and you didn't even think you were that exception to the rule anymore.

If you had known what was to come you would have preferred to stay for the moment he took to take a deep breath.

“Do you know how you can help me? Stepping aside”

“Spencer”

“I'm sick of this too! I'm tired of everyone coming and offering me their faces of compassion and their words of encouragement as if they really understood me. They don't do it, nobody does it, not even you. This is... it is a huge and heavy accumulation that has accumulated for years and years and when I think that it can't be worse, life surprises me by saying that yes, it can be worse. So just shut up, let me do my job, let me catch Scratch and for the love of God stop treating me like I'm a child because on top of all the stress of the case I have to deal with that too and honestly it's killing me” 

Your boyfriend turned around without waiting for a response and a part of you was grateful that was the case, or else he would have seen the tears that had already gathered in your eyes.

You were shocked and felt your face burning with shame, with a hole in your stomach that wouldn't be easy to fill. You were no longer even worried about the man, nor sad, but you felt very different; it was as if Reid had infected you with his anger.

Still with wet cheeks you hurried to walk in the opposite direction, finding yourself at the end of the hallway to meet a very worried Penelope García. Without letting her tell you anything, you asked her to continue with the investigation and the entire time you swallowed your pain.

You knew that Peter Lewis' desperate face when he was hanging from that building and the way you and Luke left him to die would haunt you for a lifetime, but you didn't feel even the slightest bit sorry for it. Even a part of you wished that man had died a slower and perhaps even painful death. Whatever the case, he was gone and you could feel a second of peace at night.

Spencer was right, the most important thing now was to save Emily. Later there would be time to attend to marital discussions.

When you got home you were sweaty, tired, and had a headache that you knew a shower could probably solve, adding a glass of good wine just to be safe. However, clinging to that peace of mind that solving the case had provided you was only a mechanism to postpone confronting the problem that was still latent. You hadn't spoken to Spencer for the rest of the day since your fight in the hallway and although your heart ached you knew this was the prudent thing to do.

Fighting had never had a place in your relationship because both of you were too rational to be carried away by impulse. You had disagreements and arguments, but you had tried to resolve them like adults or you had let the matter rest until you were cool-headed enough to speak calmly. You suspected that right now you were doing the latter, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn't be the one who would look for your boyfriend to talk to.

You were hurt by the way he had reacted to your advice, but a part of you also understood that Spencer had been going through too much and that, in some ways, he had some right to want his own space. Or maybe both of you were partly to blame; you for demanding something that didn't belong to you and him for not having said things tactfully enough.

But you couldn't help but miss him. You had spent so many months away from him that you longed to be in his arms, shower him with kisses and hear the soft beat of his heart just to make sure he was real.

Still lost in your thoughts you searched the living room for your briefcase to grab your cell phone, hoping to find something to distract yourself, and upon unlocking it you discovered that you had several missed calls from Spencer. It wasn't like you were ignoring him on purpose, rather it had been an oversight on your part, but when you were about to dial his number a new call was announced on the screen. It was him.

"Hello?"

“There you are,” he murmured, sounding tremendously relieved “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just left the phone in my briefcase and that's why I didn't hear your calls. I'm sorry"

There was silence for an awkward moment and then he spoke again.

“You went home early.”

"I was tired. I told Emily.”

“Yes, she… he told me, but… Do you think I can see you? I would like to talk to you about something and I don't think it is appropriate to do so on the phone.”

You evaluated your options, looking at everything around you. Spencer was welcome whenever he wanted in your house and you knew a mess wouldn't matter to him, but you were more worried about him noticing the emotional mess, not the physical one.

“Y/N?”

“Yes,” you responded when you heard your name, without thinking too much. “You can come”

Spencer responded with a monosyllable and then he hung up. You were about to get up from the couch to look for something more decent than colorful pajamas when a knock on the door startled you. When there was no response, the person knocked again and when you tiptoed until you reached the peephole, you met a familiar silhouette who was visibly nervous. Apparently the look of confusion on your face when you opened it was enough to express a silent question to Spencer.

“I was in the hallway,” he explained to you. “I didn't want to take long if you said yes.”

You knew you shouldn't give in so easily, but it was hard when Spencer said things like that and he came to your house looking completely disoriented, sad, and regretful.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Although your silences were not with that intention, the truth was that you were making him even more nervous.

"Yeah, you can”

You turned around only when you heard the click of the door closing and leaned against it, waiting for him to say something. You took a moment to observe him and noticed that his clothes were slightly disarrayed, while his hands played with the leather strap that was still across his chest. When he noticed that you were looking at his hands he interpreted it as a sign to get rid of the garment, and so he did.

“Wine?”

“Rossi gave it to me,” you responded, following his gaze to the bottle on the coffee table along with the crystal glass.

Spencer opened his mouth slightly in understanding and then there was silence again.

“I think it's obvious why I'm here, right?” he murmured in a low, cautious voice. You looked at him with sealed lips. “I want to apologize.”

“Yeah?”

"Yes. I know I shouldn't have talked to you like that in the office”

“No, you shouldn't have done it,” you responded sternly “And I accept if you don't want me around, but…”

“No,” he interrupted you, lunging forward to take your hands. You didn't refuse. “It's not that. I want you close, I don't want you to go away”

“I want you close too, Spencer. And I care about you. That's why I tell you things, not because I want to bother you."

“I know not. I was wrong, okay? I was wrong and I had no right to yell at you just because I was upset. And I wasn't upset with you, I was upset about the case and… it was just too much. This is all too much” by this point Spencer’s voice had already broken and your arms were already open for him.

It didn't take much for your boyfriend to start sobbing.

"I'm sorry"

“I know, Spencer.”

"I was an idiot"

“Yes, you certainly were,” you responded, speaking barely above a whisper. You couldn't stop feeling empathy for your boyfriend, but you couldn't ignore your own pain either. “You made me feel so hurt.”

“Forgive me, you know that was not my intention.”

“I just want to see you well. I want you to be safe and help you, but you won't let me do it. And it's okay if you don't want my help, but you can't deny that you need help. We need help. Do you think I wasn't stressed too? Do you think I could care less about finding Emily?”

“I know not. I know…” he sobbed.

“And I understand that we were both going through a hard time but you had no right to treat me like that.”

"You hate me?"

“Of course I don't hate you. I love you very much and I always will, but when something bad happens we don't yell at each other. And I'm not hating you for this, did you hate me that time in Georgia when I went into negotiating in that hostage situation without consulting anyone?

"No. I was very angry and worried about you, but I would never have hated you.”

"You see it? It's the same” you said softly.

You weren't going to torture him with this and you didn't want him to kneel and ask for forgiveness, the message you wanted to give him was already more than clear. And you knew that the simple act of accepting his mistake was something that showed you that he cared about you.

“It won't happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, it may happen again. We are both dumb sometimes and the older we get the grumpier we become” you tried to joke. Although you didn't hear him laugh, you knew that it had lightened the atmosphere. “But talking about it makes him feel better, right? Just like now”

He nodded at your question and then your hand went up to his head to stroke his hair. The contact seemed to melt him against you, as if with this you had also given free rein to his crying. You knew he probably wasn't going to tell you about the horrors he'd experienced in prison yet, but maybe this moment could be a start; you were being honest with each other and after all that was what was important.

Spencer calmed down after a long while and when you separated you made sure to get him some napkins so he could wipe his tears and blow his nose.

“You're seriously not upset at me?”

“No,” you assured him, shaking your head at the same time. You approached him and raised your hands to his cheeks to hold him gently. “It's okay, Spencer. I would be upset if you hadn't apologized."

“I wanted to do it sooner, but I knew that maybe you needed time to… you know, not want to strangle me”

“You're always so smart,” you complimented him and this time he did laugh.

The man's hands were experimentally placed on your waist and upon noticing your approving smile he pulled you a little closer to him until you collided against his chest. The puffiness in his eyes didn't stop him from giving you a sweet look.

“I haven't kissed you since I came back,” he observed absently and after thinking about it for a second you realized it was true.

You hadn't even kissed him. You had gone three months without seeing him and you still hadn't had time to kiss him.

You opened your mouth slightly, but before you could say anything he had already leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. With the help of your hand sliding to the back of his neck you deepened the contact and Spencer wasted no time, wrapping his thin arms around your torso.

Even if you didn't want to admit it, you had already forgotten how good it felt to kiss him and amid everything you thought that you wished you could capture that moment in a jar to turn to it when necessary. Because after everything that had happened that day you really needed that moment of peace with him.

His lips were slightly parted, but your gentle tongue took care of moistening them and when the air began to fail you just let him go for a second, kissing him again when you breathed enough. Your kisses were sweet and soft enough to dissipate the rest of the guilt that remained in your lover's body.

"Better?" you asked once you two were satisfied. It took him a moment to compose himself from the intoxication of your kiss to be able to answer you.

"Yes, I feel better"

“How is Diana, by the way?” you said quietly, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes.

“She is fine, I managed to admit her to a sanatorium before García called me. It will only be for tonight, tomorrow I will look for where she can stay permanently” he answered you, rubbing his tired face with a hand “I think it would be best for us to return to Las Vegas”

“You should go to her now” it hurt you to give him that advice, but you knew that he must have other priorities now. One of your hands kindly caressed his bicep, feeling how he had lost considerably in weight.

“You don't want me to stay here?”

“I don't want you to feel obligated. I know Diana needs you more than me."

“She'll be fine today,” he murmured. Apparently he wanted to be with you more than you thought. “I left my number and she'll be asleep right now. As much as he wants to deny it, I think… that she is better off with professionals”

“So you want to stay here?”

You had sounded more excited than you intended and just because of the sparkle in your eyes he felt the urge to steal another kiss from you.

"Of course I want to. I missed you so much, I just want to feel you close to me."

“I can stay only if you promise me two things.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to try to sleep,” you asked him, passing the tip of your index fingers under his eyes. “I don't like that look at all and I think you could use some rest. I have a comfortable bed waiting just for you.”

“I'd love that,” he smiled weakly. “What's the second thing?”

“Tomorrow you will let me cook you something delicious before we go to your mother.”

The thought of you spoiling him so much made him smile.

"Done deal"

You carefully guided him to your room and once there you kissed him again. Spencer felt like he was going to cry again when he noticed that you still had the change of clothes that he had left in your closet over three months ago and the soft fabric along with the familiar scent filled his chest with joy.

You two snuggled under the warmth of the sheets and you made sure to kiss your lover's face countless times while your hands touched every piece of skin you had within reach, trying to show him that he didn't have to worry about anything; you wanted him to know that you loved him and that he was somewhere safe.

"Are you okay?"

You spoke in the middle of the darkness, while Spencer had his full weight on top of yours. His nose rubbed slightly against your bare skin and he found it necessary to leave another kiss there.

“I am now.”

And even if it only lasted for a brief moment, Spencer knew that nothing compared to the peace and tranquility of being with you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25

[poppyflower-22]

Lando Norris

(These are just small discerptions that explain the one shot or parts as shortly as possibly)

Fluff:

Sad, but good sad. Schumacher reader. HERE

A series of events after Lando becomes a dad. HERE

Lando finds out he hooked up with the daughter of the USA. Humor. Lando shitting his pants. HERE

Oscar and Logan feel betrayed when they find out their gird parents hid a secret family from them. Humor. Social media. HERE

Lando was late to his games session because he was picking reader up. HERE

You and Lando being THE TikTok couple. Slight social media. HERE

Fans gets glance of reader and Lando's relationship on stream. HERE

Social Media:

Lando and Schumacher reader. HERE

Lando and Russel reader. HERE

Lando thirsting over his girlfriend any chance he can get. HERE

Lando gets arrested for assaulting someone that assaulted his girlfriend. HERE

Lando and reader's sex tape gets leaked. Humor. Part 1. HERE, Part 2, Feat Oscar, HERE

A twitter thread showing Lando can't do anything without readers help, and the one time she needed his help and exposed their engagement. HERE

You're a booktuber, always posting your books and of course your boyfriend. HERE

Lando dating Leclerc reader. HERE

People think you and Lando aren't dating after saying you are. Driver reader. Part 1. HERE. Part 2 HERE

Going on different dates with Lando. HERE

In which Lando has the perfect girlfriend, everyone loves. Feat. Lilly being in love with reader. Humor. HERE

Their post breakup era is them shading each other. Drivers hating on Lando. Humor. Part 1, HERE Part 2, Them pretending they're not back together. HERE

Carlos cheated on his girlfriend, Lando gets with her, and everyone loves them more. HERE

Leclerc reader and Lando are dating but her brothers want him to stay 6 feet then 12 feet apart from her. Part 1, HERE, Part 2, HERE.

Verstappen reader releases a song that makes her fans get mad at Lando. Humor. HERE

Lando is a mega fan of reader. So much he has a fan account and then he gets discovered. Humor. HERE

Daniel realizing he is his cousin and Lando's biggest third wheel. HERE

A thread on how Lando and reader fell in love and how oblivious they are. HERE

Lando is dating the royal princess. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE. Part 3, HERE

When Red Bull didn't want to let her design their car, she found a team that would. Newey reader. HERE

Lando and Reader are couple goals but don't want Oscar to feel left out. HERE

Reader is the mother of the grid, but when a football player makes a move. Lando strikes. HERE

When Lando is spotted with a woman that is his cousin, Lando confesses to his best friend that has been ignoring him. HERE

Lando's girlfriend works as a biologist. He hates fish and they took his girlfriend. Humor. HERE

Reader and Lando host the end of year grid dinner on their farm. A tale of the events. HERE

In The Middle:

Max thinks his sister and Lando's relationship is inappropriate, but he soon finds that them apart isn't much better. Hurt/Comfort. HERE

Lando helps his neighbor from her toxic ex. Part 1. HERE. Part 2. HERE

Lando forgets his date with his girlfriend making her rethink their relationship. Hurt/Comfort. HERE

Lando saves you from a stranger after you called. Hurt/Comfort. HERE

Max was your ex, and now he wants your back. You're with Lando now. possessive Lanod. HERE

Lando and Horner reader have been hooking up, she ignores him after pictures are online. Didn't sleep with anyone. Buys her a Birkin when Carlos spills, she might be seeing someone. Happy ending. HERE.

People think reader is using Lando for his money. He knows that's not true. HERE

Reader is an introvert. Hurt/Comfort. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE

Polly/Charles & Lando:

Not a Verstappen, Max's sister that's a driver and gets into a relationship with Charles and Lando. Lots of parts. Link is the end of serries. Smut. HERE (My favorite series)

Reader, Lando and Charles. Out and open relationship. Social Media. HERE

Lando & Oscar:

Fellings are reveled after Lando places last in qualifying when Oscar and reader comfort him. Smut. HERE

Typical morning with your boyfriends. HERE

A Lando Oscar masterlist. HERE

Lando and Oscar dating a med student. Social Media. HERE

Lando exposing his relationship with Raeder and Oscar. HERE

Series:

Lando getting higher on Leclerc reader drivers list. But reader ends up falling in love with him. The best series. Some Social Media. HERE

Lando helps his dead teammates wife after his death. Smut HERE

Reader is Mark Webber's daughter and doesn't tell Lando scared. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE. Part 3, HERE. Part 4, HERE. Part 5, HERE

Dark/Possessive:

Dark series about Lando and his neighbor. Smut. HERE

Nieve reader. Lando won't let anyone in the way. Smut HERE

Possessive/ Dark Lando with Leclerc reader. HERE

Lando was bad for you, but you couldn't resist. Smut HERE (User dose dark and possessive Lando)

Shot. Lando Mafia. Single mother. HERE

Smut:

Lando wins his first Grand Prix. HERE

Lando has a bad race and fucks reader against his car. HERE

Reader and Lando have different ideas of working out. HERE

Racing simulator. Part 1. HERE. Part 2. HERE

In which Lando hooks up with a woman in Vagas and can't get her out of his mind, until they meet again. HERE

Lando can't help but keep going back to her. Happy ending. HERE

He can't be quiet while on vacation with friends. HERE

Watching Lando work out makes you hot and bothered. HERE

A bunch of smut list. HERE

Doing it in the kitchen. HERE

A list of smut. HERE

Riding Lando in his car. HERE

Six months of married bliss. HERE

Riding Lando in his gaming chair. HERE

Filming a movie. Giddy Lando. HERE

Lando and reader like the appeal of making children. HERE

Another making a movie. Capturing the moment. HERE

Lando teasing the reader while they are in Australia. Reader being needy for him. HERE

Lando can't help but see how good his girlfriend looks and fucks her in the club bathroom on New Year's Eve. HERE

Lando and reader spend the night celebrating the las Vagas Grand Prix. HERE

Manhandling, obsessed Lando who breeds reader. HERE

Reader knowns how to treat her boy. Breast Kink. HERE

Lando posts a picture by accident while doing the deed. HERE

Lando has a bad race. Helmet on. HERE

No protection for the first time and Lando loses it. HERE

Family Vacation. HERE

Lando gives his sweet girlfriend an award for being his lucky charm. HERE

Only having fifteen minutes after Lando lands a podium. Part 1. HERE. Part 2. You're going to celebrate, even if the world was determined to get in the way. HERE

She robbed him of victory, so Lando retaliated and rewarded her at the same time. HERE

Best friend brother. Sainz reader. HERE

<><><><><>

[wolverigrl]

Hugh x reader.

Reader is a mom of two young kids, something like Pre-K and 4/5th grade. She gets her hopes too high thinking her ex husband will at least show up for the kids 1st day of school but they all get disappointed; Hugh as the gentleman/sweetest dad he is steps up and takes care of it making a surprise for them

Broken Promises

Hugh Jackman x f!reader

A/N: I hope I won't trigger someone's serious daddy issues like I did to me lmao. But seriously, I had fun writing this one, too!

Warnings: angst, some swearing here and there, mentions of unavailable parent

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

The house was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon. Too quiet. I found myself pacing the living room again, eyeing the clock, then the door, and back to the clock. I had done this routine enough times to know how it usually ended. Ethan and Mason were perched on the couch, peeking out the window every now and then, waiting for the unmistakable sound of their father’s car pulling into the driveway.

"Mom, when's Dad coming?" Ethan asked for what felt like the hundredth time. His voice had that hopeful, uncertain edge that always tore at my heart.

Ethan was nine now, old enough to sense when something wasn’t quite right but still young enough to wish it wasn’t true.

I ran a hand through my hair and forced a smile.

"Soon, sweetheart. He said he’d be here."

Ethan nodded, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. He was too smart for his own good. Mason, on the other hand, was sprawled across the floor with his toys, blissfully unaware of time and promises. At four, he was still full of that magical childhood innocence where you believe everything will always work out.

The boys weren’t the only ones waiting. Hugh, Ava, and Oscar were here too. Ava, Hugh’s 12-year-old daughter, was curled up on the couch, nose buried in a book while Oscar, his 17-year-old son, was tapping away on his phone, though he glanced at me from time to time with a knowing look. Hugh was in the kitchen, pretending to busy himself, but I knew him well enough to catch his subtle glances toward the front door. He was watching too.

Waiting.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the tense silence like a knife. Mason jumped up immediately, his little face lighting up with excitement as he dashed to the door. "Daddy!" he shouted, his tiny hands struggling to twist the doorknob before Ethan quickly helped him.

And there he was. Matthew.

My ex-husband.

Standing there with that familiar polished grin, the same one that had fooled me for years before I realized it was more charm than substance.

He looked every bit the smooth-talking lawyer he was, hair neatly combed, wearing an expensive suit that screamed 'I don’t have time for this', but here I am anyway.

"Hey, buddy!" Matthew exclaimed as Mason leapt into his arms, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. He shot a quick glance at me, his smile faltering for a second before he smoothly recovered. "Sorry I’m late. Busy day at work."

"Of course you are." I muttered under my breath. But the boys didn’t care.

They only saw their dad, and that was enough for them. Ethan approached more cautiously, his eyes studying Matthew, almost as if he were waiting to see if this time would be different. I knew that look all too well.

"Hey, Ethan!" Matthew said, ruffling his son’s hair. "Got something for you both." He reached into the sleek black bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out two shiny, brand-new backpacks.

Mason squealed with delight, clutching his in his arms like it was made of gold, while Ethan’s expression shifted from excitement to hesitation.

"Cool, thanks, Dad." He said, a polite smile on his face. I could see the wheels turning in his head, though. A backpack didn’t make up for missed promises, no matter how shiny it was.

"Are you gonna come tomorrow?" Ethan asked quietly, looking up at his father with those wide, hopeful eyes that always broke my heart. "For the first day of school?"

"Of course, buddy!" Matthew said without hesitation. He leaned down, crouching to their level and placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world! I’ll be there, bright and early."

I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall, watching this scene play out like it always did. Matthew was nothing if not consistent in his ability to make promises he couldn’t keep.

Before I could say anything, Hugh walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His presence was calming, always steady and reassuring. He gave me a small, knowing smile before turning his attention to Matthew.

"Matthew." Hugh said, his voice polite but firm as he extended his hand.

"Hugh." Matthew replied, shaking it with the same rehearsed friendliness he used with clients.

They had met a handful of times, and while Matthew had never said anything outright, I could tell he wasn’t thrilled about another man stepping into the lives of his children.

The boys were still fawning over their backpacks when Ava and Oscar joined us in the living room. Ava smiled warmly at Mason, ruffling his hair.

"Nice backpack boys!"

Oscar stood beside Hugh, his tall frame giving him an almost protective air.

"You guys excited for school tomorrow?" he asked, nudging Ethan playfully. Ethan grinned full of excitement.

Matthew didn’t stay long. He never did. After about twenty minutes of small talk and handing out gifts, he was already looking at his watch. "Alright, I’ve gotta go." he said, standing up and straightening his suit. "But I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? Bright and early as I said!"

The boys hugged him, clinging to him like they always did, desperate for any time they could get with him. And just like that, he was gone.

I watched the door close behind him, and a familiar tightness settled in my chest. The boys turned back to their new backpacks, their excitement renewed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that tomorrow would end in disappointment. Again.

Hugh caught my eye from across the room, sensing my unease. He walked over, his hand resting on the small of my back, and leaned in to whisper. "You okay?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I don’t know. I want to believe him, but… I can’t keep letting the boys get hurt. Ethan’s starting to get it, Hugh. He knows when Matthew’s lying now."

Hugh’s expression softened, and he pulled me closer. "Hey, I’ll be there. We’ll be there. They won’t be alone. I promise."

I leaned into him, closing my eyes, letting his warmth seep into me. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’ll never have to find out, love." he whispered into my hair, kissing the top of my head.

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of pancakes. The house was already buzzing with energy, far earlier than I expected. I shuffled downstairs, still groggy, only to stop in my tracks at the sight that greeted me.

The living room was transformed. Balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling, and a colorful banner that read 'First Day of School!' stretched across the doorway. The kitchen table was covered in every breakfast food imaginable - pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruit, even little bowls of candy that Mason would definitely notice first.

I blinked, rubbing my eyes. "Hugh, did you…?"

He turned from the stove, grinning at me like a kid who had just pulled off the best surprise. "Figured we’d make it special."

Tears welled up in my eyes, unbidden, and I pressed a hand to my mouth. "I-I can’t believe you did all this!"

Hugh crossed the room in a few strides, pulling me into his arms.

"It’s their first day of school. Gotta make it a big deal, right?"

The kids came rushing down the stairs next, their faces lighting up at the sight. Ethan and Mason squealed in delight, darting between the living room and the kitchen like it was the best thing they had ever seen.

"This is awesome!" Ethan shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.

Ava grinned as she joined us at the table, patting the seat next to her for Mason, while Oscar laughed at his little brother’s excitement. "Told you Dad goes all out!" Oscar teased.

Hugh winked at me, flipping another pancake onto the stack.

"It's a big day. Gotta start it right!"

And it was. For a few precious moments, everything felt perfect. The kids were happy, the atmosphere light and joyous, and the worries from yesterday seemed far away.

But when we got to the school, reality came crashing back. We stood outside the classroom door, surrounded by other excited parents and their children, and the boys kept glancing toward the entrance. Waiting.

"Is Daddy coming?" Mason asked again, his voice laced with hope.

"He said he would." I murmured, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince anymore.

The minutes ticked by, and the crowd around us thinned as more and more families said their goodbyes and headed inside. But Matthew never showed. And I could see the hope fading from Ethan’s eyes.

Hugh stepped forward, crouching down to their level. "Hey, guys.." he said, his voice soft but upbeat. "Your dad’s probably stuck at work, but that doesn’t mean today isn’t special. You’ve got all of us here, and we’re so proud of you. Right, Ava?"

Ava nodded, smiling warmly at Ethan. "You’re gonna rock it, Ethan! I just know it."

Oscar clapped Mason on the back, grinning. "And Mason, you better show them how it’s done, okay?"

Mason giggled, his spirits lifting, but Ethan was still quiet. Hugh reached out, gently tilting Ethan’s chin up. "You’re gonna be amazing today. And no matter what, we’re always here for you. Okay?"

Ethan swallowed, his eyes glistening a little, but then he nodded, managing a small smile. "Okay."

I pulled him into a hug, my heart aching for him. "I love you so so much, Ethan. You’re going to do great!"

Mason was next, clinging to my leg before I knelt down to hug him properly.

"Be good, okay? Listen to your teacher, and have fun. I love you so much!" He nodded eagerly, bouncing on his toes, the weight of disappointment not yet touching him the way it did Ethan.

We said our goodbyes to Ava and Oscar, sending them off to their own classes, before Hugh and I turned to leave. As we walked out of the school, my chest felt tight.

The weight of everything - the missed promises, the endless hope that Matthew would change, the constant pain in Ethan’s eyes - was pressing down on me harder than usual.

I could feel Hugh’s arm around my shoulders, warm and reassuring, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the hurt. We stepped out into the parking lot when I heard someone call my name.

"Y/n! Wait!"

I froze, my blood running cold as I turned to see Matthew jogging up the sidewalk, his suit jacket slightly askew, as if he had hurried over at the last minute.

My stomach twisted in knots.

Now?

After all this time, after the boys had gone inside? My hands balled into fists at my sides.

"I’m sorry!" Matthew said, breathless, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I got caught up at the office, but I’m here now. I didn’t want to miss it."

Something in me snapped. All the hurt, all the frustration, all the times he had let our boys down over the years, rushed to the surface. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, my vision blurring as they spilled over before I could stop them.

"You’re sorry?" I spat, the words escaping me in a choked sob. I stormed toward him, fists clenched, my body trembling with rage. "You missed it, Matthew! You missed everything! They went into class without you!"

He looked startled, stepping back as I shoved his chest. "Y/n, come on, I said I’m sorry- "

"Sorry doesn’t fix it!" I screamed, slamming my fists into his chest again, harder this time.

"Do you have any idea how much Ethan was looking for you? How many times he asked about you?! Mason kept asking when you’d get here, and you didn’t show up! You weren’t here, Matthew! Again!"

I kept hitting his chest, my tears flowing freely now. My voice was loud, too loud, but I didn’t care. The dam had broken, and everything I had bottled up for years came pouring out.

"You promised me! You promised them you’d be here, and you weren’t! You never are!"

Matthew tried to catch my wrists, his face pale, eyes wide. “Y/n, stop- "

But I couldn’t stop.

The pain of watching my boys be disappointed time and time again was too much.

"You don’t get it! You don’t get to swoop in at the last second and act like everything’s fine!" I sobbed, my fists still pounding against his chest until I felt Hugh’s hands gently but firmly wrap around me, pulling me back.

"Y/n.." Hugh’s voice was steady, his grip gentle but unyielding as he pulled me away from Matthew. "That’s enough."

I collapsed into Hugh’s chest, my body trembling as I sobbed, the fight draining out of me as quickly as it had come. Hugh held me close, one hand cradling the back of my head, while I clung to him, my tears soaking into his shirt. He rocked me gently, whispering soothing words I couldn’t quite make out, but the warmth of his embrace calmed me, slowly but surely.

Matthew, still standing a few feet away, looked completely stunned, his mouth opening and closing as if he didn’t know what to say. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure.

"Look.. I’m sorry.." he said again, his voice weaker this time. "I really did try to make it.:

"That’s the problem, Matthew.." I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. "You always try. But trying isn’t enough anymore."

Matthew’s face twisted with frustration. "I’m doing my best! It’s not like I’m trying to miss these things, you know. I have a job- "

"A job?!" I cut him off, my voice rising again despite myself. "I have a fucking job too! You think that’s an excuse? Ethan sees it, Matthew! He knows when you’re lying. And Mason? He’ll start seeing it soon too. They don’t care about your job. They care about you being here!"

Matthew clenched his jaw, his own frustration building.

"I don’t have the luxury of just playing house like you do, y/n! I have more responsibilities!"

"Playing house?" I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "You have no idea what it's like to raise them. No idea what it feels like to watch their hearts break every time you don’t show up!"

"You don’t think I care?" Matthew shot back, his voice growing louder. "I’m doing the best I can with the time I have!"

"And it’s never enough.." I whispered, the fight leaving me again. I wiped at my eyes, exhausted.

"Hey." Hugh’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. His tone was sharp, but not raised. "That’s enough. You should be ashamed of yourself, Matthew."

As soon as Hugh said it, I saw Matthew’s posture change.

His eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. For a split second, I could see the switch flip in him, the smooth, collected persona cracking. Matthew wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone like Hugh. Not by someone who had quietly stepped into the role Matthew had always fumbled.

"Excuse me?" Matthew’s voice was low, his eyes locked on Hugh. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Hugh didn’t flinch.

He met Matthew’s glare head-on, his expression calm but firm.

"I think I’m the man who’s been here for your kids when you couldn’t be bothered to show up. And I’m telling you - what you’re doing is hurting them and y/n."

Matthew took a step forward, his face flushed with anger now. "You think you can just walk in and play daddy, huh? That you know what it’s like to juggle everything I do? You don’t get to stand there and judge me, Jackman."

I could feel the tension crackling between them, thick and heavy. Hugh was calm, still, like a rock against the storm that was Matthew’s rising temper.

My heart was pounding, the last remnants of my tears still clinging to my lashes as I watched, half-dazed from the emotional rollercoaster of the last few minutes.

Matthew sneered, stepping even closer. "You think you're so perfect, don’t you? Mr. Hollywood star, swooping in to save the day. You’re not their father. You’re nothing to them. Just a simple placeholder."

Hugh’s jaw tightened, and I saw the muscle twitch there. But he didn’t react the way Matthew clearly wanted him to. Instead, he exhaled slowly and said, "You’re right. I’m not their father. But I’m the one they can count on. I’m the one who’s here when they need someone. That’s what matters."

Matthew’s face twisted in frustration, his fists clenching tighter. He pointed at Hugh, his voice rising.

"You have no idea what it’s like to have your own life, your own responsibilities, and try to make time for everyone. It’s easy for you to stand there and act like the hero when you’ve got nothing else pulling you in a million directions!"

I stepped forward before Hugh could respond, my voice shaking with anger. "You think Hugh doesn’t have responsibilities? You think he doesn’t make sacrifices? He does all of this for our kids while you barely lift a finger! And you know what? He never complains! Never makes excuses. He just shows up. That’s what they need, Matthew - someone who shows up."

Matthew’s gaze flicked between me and Hugh, his expression growing darker by the second. He laughed sarcastically.

"You’re really going to take his side over mine, y/n? After everything?"

I scoffed, wiping the lingering tears from my eyes.

"I'm taking my sons’ side, Matthew. Because they deserve better than what you’re giving them. This isn’t about sides. It’s about what’s right for them."

Matthew again let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. You really think I don’t care, don’t you? That I don’t want to be there for them?"

"Well, If you wanted to be here, you would be." Hugh cut in, his voice sharp now, no longer willing to play nice.

"You wouldn’t be showing up late, making excuses, and disappointing them over and over. You’d be here, Matthew. It’s that simple."

"That simple?" Matthew’s voice was nearly a growl now.

"You have no idea what I go through - what I have to balance! It’s not as easy as you think, playing ‘Super Dad.’!" He stepped forward again, and for a second, I thought it might come to blows.

But Hugh, steady and calm, took a deliberate step forward too, closing the distance.

"As we said before.. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being there. No one’s asking for you to be a superhero. They just want their dad to show up. You owe it to them to do better."

The tension between them felt like it was about to explode, and I could barely breathe, watching it unfold. I knew Matthew’s temper. I had seen it flare too many times. And I knew Hugh was protective, fiercely so, but not one to back down when it came to the people he loved.

Matthew’s nostrils flared, his fists still clenched at his sides.

"You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? You think you can just walk into my life and replace me?"

Hugh’s gaze was steady, unwavering, but he couldn't help himself and let out a soft laugh.

"I don’t want to replace you, Matthew. But I won’t stand by and watch those boys get hurt because you can’t figure out your priorities."

I felt my body trembling again, but this time from the frustration and helplessness of it all. I had spent so long trying to protect my boys from this, trying to shield them from the disappointment of their father’s broken promises. And now, here it was, boiling over in front of me.

"Enough!" I yelled, my voice breaking as I stepped between them.

"This isn’t about either of you! It’s about Ethan and Mason. And I’m so tired of seeing them get hurt because you can’t keep your word."

Matthew blinked at me, his anger momentarily giving way to something else - something that looked like shame. But just as quickly, his walls went back up, and he shook his head, stepping back.

"This is ridiculous." he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I didn’t come here to be ganged up on."

I crossed my arms, feeling the weight of exhaustion press down on me.

"Then what did you come for, Matthew? Because if it wasn’t to be there for your sons before they go attend their very first day of school, I don’t see the point."

For a long moment, Matthew just stared at us, his jaw tight, his expression a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite place. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed off down the sidewalk, leaving us standing there in the empty schoolyard.

I let out a shaky breath, my legs suddenly feeling like jelly as the weight of the moment caught up with me. Before I knew it, Hugh’s arms were around me again, pulling me close, holding me up as I leaned into him.

"You okay, love?" he whispered, his voice gentle, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.

I nodded, though I didn’t trust my voice just yet. The anger, the hurt, the frustration - it was all still swirling inside me, but Hugh’s presence, his steady calmness, helped anchor me.

"I'm sorry.." I whispered, wiping at my tear-streaked face. "I didn’t mean to… to lose it like that."

"Don’t apologize." Hugh said softly, kissing the top of my head. "You had every right to say what you did. He needed to hear it."

I took a deep breath, finally pulling back to look up at him.

"I just… I hate that this is what it’s come to. That the boys keep getting hurt like this."

"They have you." Hugh said, his voice firm but full of warmth. "And they have me. We’ll get through this."

I nodded, though my heart still ached. "Thank you." I whispered. "For everything. For being here."

Hugh smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I’m always here, y/n. You and the boys - you’re my family too."

I felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over me, but this time, it was mixed with gratitude and love.

As we walked back to the car, hand in hand, I knew that no matter what happened with Matthew, no matter how many times he failed to show up, we would be okay. Because Hugh was right.

We had each other.

And that was enough.

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

Tags: @angelofthorr @haytchee

[jazzyblusnowflake]

(If this was asked before, I swear to god.) FullCompany (NUziVJ) Headcannons?

aaaaaaaaa time to write once more- i missed being able to type away like the lil shit i am-

anyhow- okay lets see- gonna add some things here- tbh my ideas was mostly for Jenvy ideas mainly- but i guess ill fit Uzi in there lol

Some JeNVUzi HCs:

[once again- Drone au only, and maybe minor suggestive content but not nsfw]

The polycule is essentially formed around Uzi pulling them back together-

J's original reason for siding with Cyn which was rooted in fear- was on the basis that she still had her team on her side so she could keep them safe and so theyd have eachother to rely on even after Cyn destroys everything. she did not however, account for Uzi coming along and messing everything up and ruining her team's alignment while she was "dead".

the entire reason J tried to kill N or V at any time was cuz she knew a clone of them would be sent back anyway- she has basically become desensitized towards death in general given she had also died around 12 times herself [canon]- V and N try to help her through this- during which they also deal with Vs behavior and Ns trauma too.

to communicate with J they often had to spar with her- seeing as she hated talking about feelings- but this became their own thing they all did afterwards to unwind and communicate- as J opened up a lot easier after feeling like she was reached out to.

Uzi and J bond over anime and gaming- the latter being somewhere J could actually use her anger on more effectively XD

they all like reading books every now and then where one would read and the others snuggle or cuddle- they take turns. [this is from their manor days]

J is... unable to emote or show emotion easily and it eats her alive. she can't show the appropriate needed emotion to the mood of the room and it makes her have breakdowns- occasionally throw up- as though you are desperately trying to cry but the tears wont come so you try heaving it out- make yourself fit in and look normal by trying to FEEL something- but she cant. J is a dated business model drone- custom made for office work- she was made to be this way- Cyn didn't change her- and she grows to hate herself for it. so when a situation happens that she doesn't know how to react, she leaves or hides- until N,V or Uzi find her- usually disassociating or somewhat catatonic.

Uzi occasionally feels out of place with the group, as though she's just being a literal 4th wheel, since they have history together. the others try to show her that she is important to them each in their own ways-

addressing the elephant in the room- yes, it took a long time for N and J to come to terms with eachother- J eventually accepting that her original reason for hating N [him being better than her or preferred over her esp by Tessa] wasn't important anymore- and tries to appreciate him and V and Uzi more in whatever is left of her life.

make no mistake V and J are still very much bitchy on a surface level- just cuz they are all growing close does not mean they are all now lovey dovey with eachother or sweet and character-redemption-ed with everyone around them. therefore: "playful catfights" >:3 !

V and Uzi tease J alot- this is one of the reasons why J found more comfort with N- not gonna tell him to his face tho lol.

J teaches N to draw better and they bond over that alot-

Uzi and J like attention alot- and they wanna get it by being as wordless as possible- very cat coded.

Uzi, V and N like to drag J into doing more normal things that have less to do with work. so far J has mostly shown some interest in writing and maybe poetry but she WILL shoot your head off if you try to read her stuff-

J's first kiss was with Uzi- N and V having kissed once back at the manor being eachothers first kiss. J thinks V kisses the best tho lol.

N and V like to cuddle a lot- J and Uzi are usually dependent on mood-

V likes to bite- J likes to be bitten, N and Uzi like both- :3

J likes playing with N and Uzi's fluffy hair. V only lets N touch her hair.

during intimate cuddles- J has passed out the most lol. Uzi following a close second lol-

Uzi and J yap alot about tech work-

hmm this is all i can think about for NOW-

:"3

[yameoto]

scumbag fuck but i swear that she’s not

she's so good to me, and nobody else

supernatural!au quinn masterpost

big sis. roadhead. barfight. somno.

“yeah, well maybe i don’t want to spend my life hunting monsters til' i'm fucking eighty, quinn!” quinn gives you the most unimpressed look of her life, because seriously? the two of you aren't living til' you're eighty, anyways. “yeah, well tough shit, baby sis.” she jerks the wheel just a little sharper than she should, like a fucking ass. "you run away again and i'll tie your tight-ass up and cram you in the boot, you hear me?"

backstory

▸ born in a supremely episcopalian, puritan household, LUCY QUINN FABRAY is the first daughter of russell fabray, famous preacherman in the deep south. when her mother, judy fabray, bursts into flames at the hands of a devil, above the cot of her baby sister, russell turns back to the hunting life, for good; taking his two girls' along with him.

▸ quinn's baby sister was dropped off on the fabray's doorstep when quinn was 4. russell believes she was ‘sent by the angels’, and the second coming of jesus.

▸ russell's cover as a travelling preacherman, and the long nature of certain hunts, meant he often left his girls’ to live alone for long stretches of time. for most of their lives, quinn has taken sole responsibility of the care of her baby sister. cooking, cleaning, the whole nines. from the moment russell thrust the infant into quinn’s arms as they fled from the fire, quinn has formed her entire identity around being her baby sisters’ protector.

“but daaaddd..” quinn can't help it. the baby is swaddled up in cloth, eyes blinking guilessely up at her, because apparently she's its ‘big sister.’ it’s been quiet since it came 'home’. a good girl. almost too good, her mom says. and yeah, okay. maybe it really is a gift from the angels. quinn doesn’t know what it has to do with sunday school, but she knows one thing; she’s jealous. she wants to be cooed over and coddled and called sent by the heavens like she used to do (but the way her dad says it this time sounds different. like he means it more, or something). besides, she doesn’t want to share her toys with a stupid new baby. “lucy, enough. good girls don’t whinge. say something nice, or don’t say it at all.” quinn opens her mouth to protest, before deflating on the stern look on her father's face. “i guess it’s kinda cute.” quinn huffs, blowing air out of rosy cheeks, golden curls framing her face like she’s been ripped right from some old romantic painting of a cherub. quinn reaches out, gingerly prodding the baby’s cheek. it makes an indistinct babbling sound, little arms reaching upwards. “looks like she likes you, honey.” comes russell’s deep rumble, overlooking the scene, expression unreadable. “really?” quinn perks up, because the prospect of being the only one this dumb baby likes makes it a little less dumb in her books—before she catches herself. crosses her arms. “well, i don’t care.” except she’s crawled over to sit beside the baby’s cot anyways. she asks, eventually “..can i hold her, daddy?”

▸ quinn has hunted from an early age, russell bringing her out on hunts to ‘watch’ as early as six years old, in order to familiarise his child with the supernatural in order to better protect herself and her younger sister better. quinn was 12 years old when allowed on her first, proper hunt. russell never allowed them to hunt individually, even in early adulthood.

▸ russell fabray originally never intended for his daughters to hunt, as he wanted to keep them ‘pure’ as possible. quinn, however, snuck into her fathers’ car when he was going out for a hunt one too many times (with her oblivious baby sister towed along, of course).

▸ for long, long hunts, russell would drop his children off a motel or at a fellow hunters’ house for extended periods, in which they would be enrolled at the local school for 1-6 months. quinn flourished, adopting the head bitch role like a second skin. even took up cheerleading. quinn enjoyed these brief stints of normalcy (and gratuitous popularity) though she would never admit it.

"hi, baby sis.” quinn gives you a fond hair ruffle as she passes you by, and you swat her wrist away, scowling at the retreating form of your older sister. you're just glad she didn't pinch your cheek or anything. that would be lame. though, what's totally lamer, is the slackjawed look your potential new friend is giving you right now. “your sister is quinn fabray?” the girl gapes. “the quinn fabray?” you stare back, uncomprehending. “um. last time i checked. yeah?” “instant head bitch, prom queen shoein, second coming of jesus, quinn fabray? because, like, everybody’s been waiting for chiara’s epic downfall, ‘cause everyone knows she’s a hypocrite and also a major slut, and then your sister strutted in the lunchroom on her first day and—“ you tuned out five seconds ago. is this a dream? this feels like a dream. the two of you have only been in town for four months! you didn’t know quinn was fucking notorious, or something. most demons’ or talkative monsters just dub you as those fabray brats and are done with that. this is entirely uncharted waters for eighth-grade you. you take one glance back, because you’ve got to be missing something. in your head, you’re thinking more like; too-lazy-to-clean-the-toothpaste-tube-and-lets-it-harden-into-something-disgustingly-crusty quinn fabray? takes-five-years-in-the-shower-and-uses-all-the-last-body-wash-and-fills-it-up-with-water-before-it’s-your-turn quinn fabray? your annoying, overprotective, (admittedly badass) older sister, quinn fabray? you've seen her, sure. sashaying down the hallways, blonde hair tight in a highpony, in a cheerleading uniform—which was so fucking weird the first time and you don't think you'll ever get used to it. not because you've never seen quinn in skimpy clothing before (whenever dad needs her to charm the wits out of some sorry sucker), but never like this. never, so.. normal. even if she's got this glint in her eyes that you recognise when she's facing off bloody wendigos; except its period 3 bell in some bumfuck town in the middle of ohio. it suits her, you think; normal. like she has eyes at the back of her head or something, midway down the hallway, quinn turns around and meets your gaze. her mouth changes, from that sweet, sweet smile disguising the devil underneath you've seen her wear nowadays, into that warm, fond grin she reserves only for you, with a flash of her canines and a subtle wink she learned when the two of you would play pranks on dad, in the early years. you shoot her a brazen middle finger for her troubles, and she just throws her head back and laughs, airy and breathy and carefree. you suppress the instinctive urge to return it with a grin, as you both go opposite ways, new spring in both steps. the quinn fabray. yeah, right. that's just your big sister.

▸ when quinn was 22, her baby sister got into stanford on full scholarship, abandoning the hunting life for a normal one. this led to a huge blow-up argument which escalated until they both went radio silent, for two years. stems from their intense sibling codependency, and the fact quinn, as her ‘protector’, derived all meaning from caring for her sister—and thus didn’t know what the hell she was good for, without her. this is the same reason quinn keeps to hunting. even beyond the whole, family first, ‘it’s in your blood’ schtick. there is nothing else that she knows.

facts.

▸ quinn's episcopolian upbringing means she has extensive biblical knowledge, especially due to being so exposed to her father. she is family-first, always.

▸ quinn wears a cross necklace around her neck that she never takes off, as her baby sister gifted it to her, on one of many christmases spent just the two of them, when russell left them alone for two weeks in a motel room.

▸ quinn had lingering faith in god, though moreso for it represented her idyllic childhood and a time in which she lived in relative normalcy. she is now a heretic. not a skeptic, a heretic.

“i thought you were saving this for dad..?” quinn, 12 mumbles, sleepily lifting her head from the shitty motel couch. she frowns, as you, 8, crawl up on the cushions to face her. your form is illuminated by the christmas lights she stole from the house down the street, while you were sleeping. “dad’s not here. you are,” you point out, as if it’s as simple as that. maybe it is. “i warded it. kinda.” your brows knit, sitting cross-legged in front of her as you hold up the necklace, shifting as if embarrassed. “i dunno. i jus' followed a few things i saw when i was snooping through dad’s journal. they probably don’t work, but..” they don't. she knows, just from running a finger over the silver emblem of the cross, that it's virtually useless. she couldn't give less of a fuck. instead, she turns, hands gathering up her hair and pushing it upwards, exposing the pale expanse of her nape. "put it on for me?" she asks, after a moments' silence, not even scolding you for, first of all; looking at dad's journal (big nono). secondly; trying your hand at an ancient, potentially town-levleling rite you can't even read properly because you wanted to give her a christmas present. who does that? (her baby sister, that's who. and the thought swells quinn with pride and a curshing wave of love, even though she knows she should be a good big sister and tell you off). except, she can't. not when your fingers so cautious, so soft—unweathered by the callouses of hunting life, the grooves of clutching a knife to your chest, unfamiliar with the cold metal of a trigger guard. she savours your softness. drinks it in, in a way she already knows is greedy but she can't help it, and in the moment you finish clumsily clasping it around her neck, she turns and flings her arms around you and tucks you close to her chest. nose burrowing into the familiar, earthy scent of your sweatdamp locks and promises to mom and to god that'll she'll take care of you for as long as she fucking lives. "i'm never taking it off, ever. i swear, lil' sis." "..never ever?" "never fucking ever."

▸ since losing her faith, quinn wears the cross necklace inverted. it is symbolic of her devotion—not to god—but to her sister.

▸ nobody calls quinn ‘lucy’ except for her father. this is because judy named her, and he clutches onto his wife through quinn. quinn goes by her middle name for the same reason.

▸ russell used to keep quinn's hair long as a child, for the same reason that she reminded him of judy, and preserve his eldests' semblance of innocence. quinn now regularly hacks it off to various lengths for practicality's sake.

OVERARCHING PLOT CONTEXT (SPN S1-5): follows the canon trajectory of spn seasons 1-5. angels/demons working together in order to break the seals, free lucifer and jumpstart the apocalypse. quinn is the vessel for michael, and her baby sister is the vessel for lucifer.

her baby sister was not sent by the angels, but was in fact delivered by azazel, the same demon who killed their mother. russell fabray, rather than being a voice/prophet of god, he has been obliviously consorting with devils, disguised as angels, who have been using him and his children to bring about the apocalypse.

to be finished.

[octuscle]

Gringo Life

Carlos was breathing heavily. Today, his destiny might be decided. The savings of many years of hard work had been spent on Carlos's trip to the United States today. He was to meet the smuggler in a village not far from the border crossing. Carlos was to come without luggage, without papers. Only with the clothes on his back. Of course, that sounded strange, but Carlos did as he was told. He wore his best clothes. He had gotten himself a new hat. He looked hot. He was an alpha paisa! He would make a career for himself in the land of the gringos.

At the agreed meeting point, a man was standing next to a surprisingly clean new pickup. He looked like something out of a bad college jock comedy. Stars and Stripes tank top over a muscular, tanned torso. The buzz cut hidden under an upturned cap, powerful legs in tight jeans that also accentuated an impressive bulge at the crotch. Feet in dusty biker boots. He spat a bit of chewing tobacco on the street. “Carlos?” he asked. Carlos nodded with a dry mouth. “Good, then let's go.” With the little English he knew, Carlos asked where he should hide in this car. Probably not in the open loading area. The guy laughed and said that Carlos had booked a first-class ticket. You don't hide with this ticket. With this ticket, you drive the car into a better life yourself. He threw the car keys to Carlos and went to the passenger door. “Are you serious?” Carlos asked. He was already much more fluent than a few minutes ago. “You drive, I choose the music. By the way, I'm Zack!” Carlos climbed into the car. He had never sat in such a big and new and expensive car, let alone driven it. “You know how to drive an automatic, bro?” Zack asked. Carlos shook his head. “You'll learn!”

It was hot. Zack had turned off the air conditioning and rolled up the windows. Carlos had no idea which buttons to press to change that. He didn't want to ask Zack. Zack had turned up the music loud and was enthusiastically singing along to songs Carlos didn't know. He was sweating. He ran his hand over his neck. His mullet was soaked in sweat! “Coke?” Zack asked, opening what was obviously a cooled compartment in the center armrest. ‘Holy cow, dude! You're like, a total lifesaver! Thank you, fam!’ Carlos replied. With a heavy Spanish accent. But in fluent English!

“12 kilometers to the border” was written on a sign. Damn metric system, Carlos thought to himself. How many miles was that now? 10? Or more like 20? He drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of Chris Young's ‘Young Love & Saturday Nights.’ The muscles in his forearms twitched, making his tattoos dance. Zack opened the windows. The wind blew up Carlos' cut-off tank top. It felt damn good on his sweaty skin. At the end of the road, the border station appeared. Carlos took a deep breath. He slowed down. He rolled up to the Mexican border guard's hut. Zack handed Carlos two passports, which Carlos passed on. The officer only glanced through the window. He had to stand on tiptoe to see not only Carlos but also Zack in the big car. He stamped both passports and wished them a safe journey. Carlos breathed a sigh of relief. Although he knew that leaving Mexico was the easy part. Now came the entry into the USA. The officer could be a brother of Zack. Muscular, short-cropped hair, a tight, perfectly fitting uniform. He bared two rows of immaculate Hollywood-white teeth. “Welcome back to the USA!” he said as Carlos handed him the two passports. “What was the reason for your stay in Mexico?” “We were there to get wasted and hook up, y'all! Get ready for some wild times!” said Zack. The officer said that was indeed the best thing about Latinos. “Which one of you is Charles?” Silence… Zack nudged Carlos in the side. Carlos jumped and said, “My friends call me Chuck, Officer!” Zack grinned. The border guard looked at Carlos and then at the passport. Then he asked Carlos to take off his hat. Shit, the hat, Carlos thought. Of course, with it he looked like a wetback. He felt for the hat. There was no hat. He took off his trucker cap. His long blond hair fell into his face. He pushed it back. The border guard grinned and said that with short hair, Chuck would look less like a girl. He stamped the two passports and handed them back to Chuck in the car.

“So, what did I tell you?” said Zack. “Easier than stealing candy from a baby.” Chuck replied that he had obviously lost the bet. He wouldn't have believed in his life that the guy wasn't checking the back of the pickup. There were six kegs of the finest smuggled tequila rocking on the truck bed. “Dude,” Zack said. “Didn't you see the way the officer was staring at you? If you had told him you had the tequila on the truck bed, he would have let us through. The main thing is that you smile at him once.” Chuck kneaded the bulge in his torn jeans. Hell yes, the officer had been hot. But the load of his balls was reserved for Zack today. He had lost a bet, so Zack was allowed to suck him off in the repair shop. Chuck could only hope that the border guard was back on duty on the next trip to Mexico.

Chuck and Zack had been best bros since they first got kicked out of college together for drug smuggling. Behind the facade of the auto repair shop, they smuggled various things across the border. In both directions. It was lucrative. And each time they bet on whether they'd get caught or not. The loser had to empty his balls into one of the other's holes. They were rarely caught. For some reason, Chuck spoke fluent gutter Spanish like a construction worker. He didn't know when or where he'd learned it himself. That usually helped with problems at the border. And if that wasn't enough, a blowjob had been enough to get him out. Life was great.

Pics by @ki-kink