#I see my dad wearing them like all the time

[angelplummie]

here for revenge.

being lily's best friend - you grow up with her - you're in the donaldsons orbit for all your formative years. you develop a crush on art that turns into love as you grow older. your home life isn't so glamorous. you spend lots of weekends at the donaldsons. art has tucked you in. brought you snacks when you stayed up late for movie nights, making you and lily promise not to tell tashi. you were there when art and tashi got divored, held lilys hand and pretended not to be happy inside at the thought of getting closer to art.

lily gets into college - a big smart one because she has tashi's ambition and leaves you behind, you're still stuck at home because your dreams have always been smaller.

maybe its not appropriate, to still spend time with art. but he's lonely. tashi left, and now his daughter has and you're the only one left in his life that actually wants to be around him, that has always looked at him with stars in your eyes. its probably not healthy. there should be a boundary there. your lilies, not his.

but you like being around him and he likes having someone to take care of. you come over and he makes you eat something healthy and you needle him about spending all his time at home and how he should get out more, and he rolls his eyes, tells you he should be saying the same to you, you're young and beautiful and you should be dating around.

but how can you date around when art donaldson is your dream man? when you're happiest at his side, eating what he makes you. you want more though. you want to share his bed, warm it for him, you want to make him not so lonely, you want him to stop seeing you as a little girl and as the adult you've grown up to be - so you start wearing less and less around him. start acting more and more like a housewife.

art accepts it without even realizing. now you just need to find the right opportunity to pounce.

WHEW. this one is long so buckle up

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

you roll your eyes.

“mr donaldson, how come you never started dating again?”

he chopped the lemon with a deft clunk, eyes never leaving the knife.

“never felt the urge.”

“what does that mean?”

“what i just said. never felt the need to.”

“hm.”

you sat on the island, next to the chopping board. your legs swung haphazardly, and you watched art as he chopped.

why was he playing this game? he could’ve told you to leave, to stop coming back and bothering him, that this was inappropriate. and yet. he didn’t even tell you to get your sorry butt off the counter, or some such dad-ism. the low glow of the many warm lamps that adorned such a luxurious house illuminated art so softly, he looked as young as the day lily was born. he was as fit as back then, if not meatier. he didn’t have the pouch your dad had, but the years had given him a thickness. instead of wasting away like most lean men did, he struggled to the other side. he got broader. layer upon layer of muscle encased in a thin finishing of fat. he was skinnier when you were a kid, but he had no reason to be lean now. under his chin a tiny hammock of pudge rested as his head tilted down, kissed by light stubble. his blonde hair was streaked in silver, but that somehow made him younger looking. made him glow. he had grown it out, by your suggestion. he was everything in the world a man should be.

“what about you?”

“i hate boys. they’re all stupid.”

“you got that right. you’re too good for all of them, never settle.”

“maybe it’s just boys my own age. theyre so immature.”

arts wide chest heaves. his eyes flick to you then flick back down. you see it all, and cross one leg over the other.

“maybe.”

“what were you like when you were my age?”

he laughs at the memory.

“stupid, immature, evil. if i was anything to go by you should swear off men entirely until menopause.”

air left your chest cavity.

“i don’t wanna wait. i want a fully formed one.”

you watched the muscles in arts forearms flex as he squeezed the lemon onto salad. the main course was cooking, was singing loudly on the stove. art had gotten into cooking after the divorce. it took all his attention and put it in one place, something complex and delicate and time consuming. it helped to clear his head. it wasn’t helping right this second.

“i shouldn’t say that,” he said curtly,”boys your age aren’t so bad. give them a go and quit hanging out with an old man.”

“but i like you, old man.”

art was so harsh on himself. he really wasn’t that old. and you really weren’t that young.

he pressed his lips together and kept squeezing. his pink lips, that gave his face the everlasting youth it held. he shrugged his shoulders in that way he did when he was confronted with the truth of your arrangement. there was something going on. something very, very, very wrong. you were the same age as his daughter. 3 months younger. he was the worst man in the world. the worst person to ever breathe. what could he do though? tell you to go? tell you to leave his house and never come back? what would become of you then? without him, what pillar of paternity would you rely upon? what new low would you reach? what men would you come across, and what would you do to please them? while he gingerly entertained you, you dangled something in front of his face that others would not have the restraint or morality to resist. if you had to move to another target, your next victim might not care so deeply for your wellbeing. were you not altogether safer, sitting in his kitchen, eating his caesar salad, rather than inhaling second hand cigarettes from old wrinkled fucks who might murder you, or worse-

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

“you got a bunch of lemon pips in the salad.”

“oh.”

he set down the lemon.

“are you ok? you seem tense.”

“i’m good. are you cold? i can turn on the heating if you like.”

“no. it’s actually quite warm in here.”

he hears the zip of your hoodie and starts away from the island, under the pretence of getting a paper towel to deposit the lemon seeds on. your jumper clatters to the counter, and you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. low cut top. he knows that’s what you’re wearing. because that’s all it’s been for the past 2 months. your mini skirt flowers around you as you sit, but when you stand each swish and sway of the fabric is a death sentence. god forbid you take the stairs for some ungodly reason.

“hey, you know what you said about never having the urge?”

oh, fuck off, he thought. fuck off. leave him be. leave him alone. release him.

“yes.”

“you can’t really mean that can you?”

“sure i can.”

“i mean, you can. but i don’t think you do.”

you twirled a strand of hair in between your fingers. your stomach grumbled, loud enough that he could hear. you were so hungry you could die, but if you ate what art was frying your breath would smell like fish all night.

“let me check the salmon.”

“i’m not that hungry. you can’t mean that you never had the urge to. everyone has urges.”

“well sure. but after tashi, i needed a breather. a grace period, if you will. you can’t go from marriage with a woman like her right into dating.”

“but it’s been 3 years. you must be over it by now?”

he ignored the hope in your voice. ignore, ignore, ignore.

“i am over it. but. women scare me.”

he walked languidly over the salmon. it was ready.

“i don’t scare you, i’m a woman.”

a woman. he turned off the stove, and turned to fix you with a stare for the first time tonight. a woman. that was not the word he would use to describe you. your eyes were the size of saucers, and you bat your lashes languidly, like you knew how much you were making him suffer. you sat up pin straight, and twisted your spine to make eye contact with him. your body. he tried not to look. tried not to look in front of you and see the twisted grin come across your lips. but he was a weak man. the weakest of men, and his eyes dragged over where a fatherly view should never cross. your perky new tits, the press and curve of your ass against the counter, the plush of your thighs. it seemed you had grown up overnight, and didn’t know you were still a baby. you’re a baby. you knew what you were doing to him. you knew. he blushed involuntarily.

“you scare me most of all.”

his voice trembled. he hadn’t meant to say that. hadn’t meant to dignify you will any response at all. it had crossed his mind and then it crossed his lips.

your eyes lit up with extreme delight. he liked to make you happy, but his stomach churned with the thought of why.

“why?”

he turned back around, and plated up your salmon, adding potatos and asparagus from the same pan, drizzling it all in the residual oil.

“why art?”

“mr donaldson.”

a twinge of irritation tickles your stomach. what was he fighting this for? you’re all grown up now. you both knew what was going to happen. he was resisting fate, the inevitable.

all your life you had known he was the man you were meant to be with. from that first time he kissed your forehead as you dozed off on the couch, thinking you were asleep. when his strong arms would carry both you and his daughter, flinging you around, threatening to dunk you in their backyard pool. when he would catch your eye in the rear view mirror as he drove you around and winked. he was so nice. so nice and brave and kind and warm, and if you had to be with any man it should be him because you’ve loved him since you were 8, and now you’re old enough to claim it. you’re not just a dumb kid with a crush. you love him. you understand it being one sided back then. but it isn’t anymore, and you wouldn’t let him deny it. with gliding footsteps you approached him, drawing closer every second he didn’t turn around. a hand rests on his shoulder blade.

“just stop,” you breathed after a pause.

his spatula clattered to the pan with a metallic thunk. you pull your hand away like he burnt you. he gripped the counter with a sigh and hung his head.

“you stop. stop it now,” his voice was stern. you felt yourself shrink. art was never stern.

“i know what you’re thinking, and it’s not going to happen. this has gone on far too long and it stops right now.”

a mere few paces from his wide curved back, you blink. the urge to touch him is overwhelming. you want to press your hand to his back, feel him under your palm and tell him you know he wants this. you know he wants this just as bad as you do.

but you don’t, because he’s angry at you, and he’s never been angry at you before.

“i’ve let you come here and cooked you food and watched movies with you because you’re a good kid. because i knew you as a kid and i know your problems with your father and i wanted to be there for you when lily is away. but you have taken this too far. you’re my daughters best friend. i have cleaned up your vomit twice, i baked you a cake for your 13th birthday- it’s not right. i’ve tried to be understanding, i’ve tried to ignore it, but you never drop it. never. your lack of self respect is staggering. you have to drop it right now or, im sorry but you can’t come back here anymore.”

every muscle fibre was clenched. if the counter top wasn’t marble it would’ve crunch and fell away under his grip. he couldn’t take it anymore. he didn’t know how much longer he could be good. didn’t know how much longer he could take resisting you.

maybe he was harsh. but it was the right thing to do. the only thing to do. he rested his elbow on the counter, and between his forefinger and his thumb held the bridge of his nose. he exhaled loudly. he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, hadn’t planned it. but now it was out. he had stared the elephant in the room dead in its eyes. he felt lighter, somewhat liberated.

until he turned around after a few too many seconds of silence to see you turned away from him, slightly hunched over. he stepped closer, and saw your hands covering your mouth. you body jolted, and you drew in quick, grasping breaths. you were crying. he said your name, and you didn’t turn to look at him.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry mr donaldson.”

all the relief he felt was replaced by swift, acute, crushing guilt. your hair fell over your face, shielding you from him. he said your name once more. you sniffed.

“hey, hey hey hey.”

against his better judgement, and because of the aching of his heart, he took you gently by the shoulders, and turned you to face him.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

tears spill from your eyes and you wipe them away with a heavy hand, refusing to meet his eyes. his neck craned down to your eye level, his thumbs began tracing circle in your shoulders. a thoughtless gesture but one that made you cry even harder.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. im just so sorry.”

“hey, it’s ok. it’s alright.”

“it’s not alright. i’ve ruined everything. i’ve made it- so- weird. i just thought that you- you wanted me. i’m so stupid.”

your mascara runs, painting your face with your turmoil.

how could you be so dense? you had been making him uncomfortable. he didn’t want you. the only reason he even let you hang around was obligation. because of what you meant to lily. you didn’t mean anything to him. you were just some kid. did he even think you’re pretty? you bet he didn’t.

worse than that, you had disappointed him. him. he was supposed to be everything your dad wasn’t. and now he was disappointed. you had failed. you had ruined everything. what even were you? were you even human?

“don’t. you’re not stupid. don’t say that.”

“i’m sorry. i just- i wanted to make you happy. that’s all i ever wanted. i wanted you to be happy with me. you were so- so- so crushed after the divorce, i-i just-“

he guides you over to the bar stool, and you let him. you sit across from each other. his hand touches your cheek, the other holds you shoulder still. the touch of his hand quietens your babbling, your eyes round and wet and open.

“you do make me happy.”

your lips parted, plump with crying.

“i do?”

he cringes at the hope in your voice, at the feeling in his chest that it stirs. the feeling in his whole body at touching, after so many years, your soft skin. the last time he held your face you were 8, crying over a bumped knee. he had very different feelings now than he did then. sympathy and concern had ebbed, making way for much darker, much more corrosive emotions. he felt guilt and want broil in the chambers of his stomach, and the evilness inside him told him how easy to would be to get what he wanted. how close he was.

“yes. you’re my favourite buddy, we have a great time together,” he ruffled your shoulder like you pat a dog, speaking quick to placate you.

the hope in your eyes dwindled.

“so,” you sniffled, “you don’t feel anything for me? you don’t-don’t want me at all?”

with your convulsive sobbing your chest rose and fell, and with each jolt you spilled further out of your thread bare top. he closed his eyes, and swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. inhaling deeply, his fingers released your shoulder.

“it doesn’t matter what i want.”

“yes it does, it matters the most,” you answer immediately, tears gone from your eyes, now sliding down from your water line and down your cheek, “what do you want?”

what does art want? when was the last time he asked himself that question? years. at least. he drew away from you. you felt sick.

he turned on the stool, ducking his head and cradling his face in his hands

“i want…”

what the fuck was he saying? he couldn’t say this to you. he couldn’t. but he was.

“i… you’re a very gorgeous girl. you’re sweet. you’re smart. you’re funny. i like you very much.”

he said it like he was confessing to murder. elbow resting on his knee, his hand covered his eyes with splayed fingers. god, he was going to hell for this. even saying the words felt like the deepest sin imaginable, and he was sanitising his truth extensively. what he thought about at night, when you went home and his house became cold again, when he got into the shower and mechanically relieved himself into the drain, that was truly deplorable. when he touched himself, it was you he thought of. invariably. everything a man could possibly do to a girl, everything a girl could possibly do to a man, he had laid up in his bed and touched himself to with you in mind. ropes and ropes and ropes of cum in your honour, so gently splattered on shower walls and bedsheets he needed to wash anyway. sometimes he came on his torso, just to feel young and frivolous, like you were. and when he did his brain would turn back on, and he would feel so guilty that he would lay there to soak up his guilt, a punishment for himself from himself. so yes. he wanted you. he wanted you very, very badly. with every fibre of his being, he craved you. and with every fibre of his soul, he hated himself for it. but apparently he was still talking. what his morality urged him his mouth couldn’t hear, or wouldn’t obey.

“so don’t think you’re delusional. you had every reason to think i might reciprocate.”

you watched him, glossy eyes wide as ever. he peeked from beneath his fingers, immediately covering his eyes again when he saw you watch him. he shouldn’t have said that. he shouldn’t have. that was bad, it’s only giving you hope, and there is no hope. he can’t, he can’t. he want to so badly but he can’t. god, no he can’t. it would be so easy but easy isn’t right and how could he ever look his daughter in the eyes again if he did? how could he look at tashi?

“mr donaldson?”

“mm,” he replied miserably.

“kiss me.”

slowly, exhausted, he lifted up his head. mistake. now he was thinking about it as he looked at your face, puffy and damp and shining like a star.

why did he look so disgusted? what was so wrong with you? you couldn’t stop yourself from barreling ahead, feeling his premature rejection like a rock in your stomach.

“just once. then i’ll leave and i’ll never bother you and you won’t see me anymore and i’ll go to church and ill get a therapist, but just once.”

he looks so tired. so tired and so fucking good. his eyes smouldered with deep thought, the thought only a mature man can have. he was so mature. he was so much larger than you. he could hurt you if he wanted to. he could make you do anything but all he did was look at you so tired it made you squirm inside. as your sobs died in your throat, regret and embarrassment become indistinguishable from desire.

he blinked slowly, and opened his mouth. the white of his teeth glittered. his tongue pawed the inside of his cheek. he was thinking about it.

how could he be thinking about it? he was the worst person in the world. and yet. and yet. one kiss. he could control it with one kiss. one kiss wouldn’t hurt. one kiss. he had kissed your head before. your cheek. what was so different about this?

wordlessly, he moved off the stool. heart in your mouth you waited. a tremulous breath shuddered from your chest as he took one step. two steps. three steps. until he was stood above you. his face was unreadable. not cold. not warm. just looking, appraising from above his brown lower lashes, down his strong kissable nose.

“one kiss?”

his hand rose slowly, palm facing upwards. his finger tips grazed your jaw, your chin, tilting your head up. fireworks burst in your stomach, and you resisted the urge to moan.

“one. that’s all.”

one. that would be all. one kiss and he would put this silly fascination away for good. a kiss is deniable. a kiss is nothing.

he stoops down, can feel the nerves vibrating from your skin. his head tilts slightly, and your eyes lock as he descends to your level. his hand moves into your hair, a combing hold. and you kiss. no tongue. your lips connect, mush and expand over the others. his nose touched your cheek. your arms remained stiff by your side as they gripped the stool. you felt the pinkness of his lips, felt the edge of his cupids bow. and then he pulled away.

there. one kiss. he had done what he had to to get you to drop it. had fulfilled your criteria, and now you could move on. now he could move on.

but if that was true, why was he leaning in again? why did almost tasting your saliva, a substance he had thought about in great detail, make him hungrier for it? why was almost having it worse than never coming close? why did he pull gently on your hair, making your head tip back, opening you mouth so he could kiss the part of you he craved; the inside part? why was he hard if it was over?

his tongue flicked gently inside, asking permission. your mouths closed together, making the kiss noise you hate hearing but love making. they open quickly and in sequence. your hands rise up to gently hover over his chest, barely grazing his shirt. you didn’t want to touch him too hard in case he dissipated into a cloud of smoke, an illusion.

but he was very real, and under your timid girlish touch he was undone. a soft exhalation like a groan into your mouth, and his tongue protruded. it touched yours and you tasted the salt on it, shivering. his other hand fell back to your shoulder, gripping so hard it was like had no idea what he was doing. feeling your mouth against his was all that there was. there wasn’t right, there wasn’t wrong, there was only sensation.

all the want he had saved for solitary and depressing masturbation now burst through his veins, into his actions and he kissed you with all the passion in him. with everything he’s never said, with all the times he held back with you, with tashi. he kissed you like if he didn’t he would die, breathing and groaning and grunting involuntarily. he mashed his face to yours, crushing your lips, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before recapturing your mouth in a sloppy open mouthed kiss. it felt like steam evaporated from where your met, so hot and wet.

you didn’t know what was your and what was art, where you finished and art began. you meshed like the broken pieces of a vase slotted against each other. his tongue became so wild it clipped the side of your mouth in its frantic exploration, and you sighed.

ultimately it was you who had to pull away. you pulled your hands into your own chest, gasping for breath. he didn’t move an inch. he gripped your shoulder still, cradled your face the same. he opened his eyes, chest rising and falling graciously.

he surveyed you, still too high from your touch to feel guilt, with lazy eyes. he was so fucked. your eyes sparkled like glitter. your lips shined pearly with his spit. his.

“art?”

“yes?”

“it’s not just one kiss is it?”

despite himself, despite everything, he smiled.

“no. i don’t think it is.”

[miley1442111]

cookies-a.hotchner

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a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1000 FOLLOWERS, Y'ALL MEAN SO MUCH TO ME I CAN'T BEGIN TO EXPLAIN IT!!!!

summary: you're the cute barista he sees everyday.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem barista reader

warnings: fluff, mentions of sa, aaron is a cutie in this, sorry if this doesn't make sense, i was studying german all day and idk if I have the patience to re-write this :)

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Aaron’s nervousness grew as he stepped closer and closer to the counter. Aaron Hotchner was not a man to be anxious, nervous, or shy when it came to speaking to people, even new people. Aaron Hotchner was a confident, intelligent man who was very important and powerful in both his personal and work life. 

So why was he so nervous to speak to the cute barista he saw every morning?

In his defence, you were drop-dead gorgeous. Aaron loved everything about you, your hair, your style, your face, your lips (he spent a lot of time looking at them), and everything about you. You were so interesting, so nice, and very good at making him a good cup of coffee. 

“Aaron! How are you today?” You asked, a smile on your face as he got to the top of the queue. 

“I’m fine thank you, how are you?” he smiled. Good, I got through the first sentence. 

“I’m great! It’s so nice out today,” you mentioned the weather everyday without fail, Aaron smiled and agreed with whatever positive outlook you had, even on the gloomiest of days. 

“It is,” he nodded. 

“The usual?” you asked, getting a cup ready. 

“Please,” he nodded. “And one of the cookies please.”

You stopped your writing on the cup to look up at him. “A cookie? I wouldn’t have put you down for a cookie guy, Aaron.”

“It’s not for me, my son loves the cookies from your shop,” he admitted, since he’d brought Jack here on your day off (yes, he had your schedule memorised. You worked Mondays to Fridays between 7am and 1pm, Saturday off, then on Sundays you worked the closing shift), and he’d enjoyed the cookie quite a lot. 

Your eyes flickered with something like… disappointment, but it was immediately replaced with your signature smile. “Any specific one?” You asked, eyes moving from him to the display case. 

“The red one, he loves spiderman,” he decided after a moment of deliberation. 

“A man after my own heart,” you smiled, and bagged the cookie, giving him a soft goodbye as he waited for his drink and cookie down by the other side of the till. 

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Your co-worker gave you a sad smile as you deflated. Your cute regular, Aaron, was obviously married with children, who wouldn’t want to make him a dad? Who wouldn’t want to give him anything he wants forever? He was just so handsome and so sweet and so-

You get the point. 

You were smitten with a married man you had no chance with. Sigh. 

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Saturday 4pm

Aaron walked in with Jack’s hand in his and the rest of the BAU team behind him. He was in his marathon wear, after just running the town's marathon. The shop was practically empty, it probably had something to do with the time and the fact that they were giving out free food at the finish line. But Aaron wanted nothing more than to b-line it straight to your cafe and get a latte and a cookie (he tried a bite of Jack’s and he very much enjoyed it).

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The bell above the door rang and you put on your best customer service face to be met with Penelope Garcia. Your sister’s friend from college that visits every summer. 

“Pen?” you smiled 

“Y/n!” she squealed, opening her arms for a hug. You came out from behind the counter to hug her.

“How are you?” You asked as the rest of the group looked at the two of you. 

“I’m so amazing! I cannot believe your sister didn’t tell me you opened the cafe?!” She practically scolded. 

“Don’t be too hard on her, she doesn’t exactly… know,” you chuckled uncomfortably as Penelope’s face fell. 

“Why wouldn’t she know?” She whispered, turning you both away from the prying eyes of the group. 

“She… she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,” you shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Why? What happened?” 

“After the… after Ryan did, y’know, what he did, she told me she believed his version and not mine. C’est la vie,” you sighed, picking at your nails as you explained. 

“What?!” Penelope was practically crying. “That’s awful!” “I’m fine,” you chuckled, going back behind the counter. “Now, what can I get you?”

“I have the order written down, it’s a lot,” a tall man from the group offered. 

“Sounds great,” you smiled at him. He handed you over a piece of paper with various drink orders and food orders and you started working on them right away, since you were the only one working that day too. Penelope paid, and watched over you as the group chatted about various cases and congratulated Aaron on his performance. She soon realised she wasn’t the only one watching you, Aaron’s eyes were firmly planted on either you, or Jack. 

Interesting. 

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As you brought over all the drinks, you finally let yourself look at Aaron. 

Fuck, he looked good in a t-shirt and running shorts. It was becoming unfair. 

There were three women on the team. Penelope, not his wife for sure- she was dating Kevin. A blonde woman, showing photos of her kids to the group and sitting far away from Aaron- not his wife. A brunette woman who was gorgeous who sat right beside him, but there was no physical contact- maybe his wife? You couldn’t tell. 

As the night wore on and they started trickling out, you were left alone with Aaron for a split second. While clearing their table, you accidentally knocked into him and spilt coffee on his shirt. 

“Shit, I am so sorry!” You immediately apologised and Aaron just stared at you with this dazed look for a second, then smiled. 

“It’s fine, I promise,” he nodded, but you felt awful. 

“Please let me get you some tissue or something Aaron,” you pleaded, bringing the cups over to the till before running to grab some tissue paper, not even waiting for his response. 

“It’s really not a big-” Aaron started but you hushed him, trying to get some of the coffee off of his shirt. He stared down at you as you worked, muttering soft apologies and sighs or annoyance at your carelessness. “Can I ask you out to dinner?” He blurted out, not even thinking. God, his head felt so hazy when he was around you. 

You slowly looked up in shock. “Pardon?”

“I’m asking you out,” he repeated. 

“But don’t you have a wife-?”

“She and I got divorced a while ago. I get Jack- my son- on the weekends,” he explained. 

“Oh, then in that case, yes please,” you smiled. “I’d love to go out.”

“Good,” he smiled, then he turned quite serious. “I promise to just move things at your speed, I overheard what you and Penelope were talking about,” he sighed. “You’ll call all of the shots, I promise.”

Your heart swelled. He was a gentleman, a dad, and a lovely person? How could you be more lucky? “Thank you, that means a lot.”

Aaron walked out of the coffee shop, a large stain on his white shirt, but a date too, so he really didn’t mind.

He also didn't mind the teasing he got from Penelope on the way home.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[starlostseungmin]

husband!hyunjin

✰ notes: here concludes my husband!skz series with hyunjin. i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing everyone! not proofread and not edited. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin , chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix（ hyunjin ）

ꔛ

Husband Hyunjin whom everyone expected to make a grand proposal, prepared a simple candlelight dinner in your shared apartment and cooked your favorite meals. You thought it was just a usual dinner date at home which you’d do sometimes. He suddenly got down on one knee and opened a small box with a diamond ring, “Will you be my everlasting muse? The one who would love to spend the rest of their life with me?” 

Husband Hyunjin who cried and hugged you tightly as he thanked you for saying yes. 

Husband Hyunjin who was the happiest and got emotional during the weddingーmentally screaming, hair-ripping, toe-curling, exaggerated excitement (sincere), and deeply in thought about how he would spend an eternity with you. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to stare at you while talking, especially on your lips thinking how much he wants to kiss you. His kisses start with innocent, soft, and warm then later change into intimate, hot, and intoxicating which makes you get addicted to them. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to be babied and cuddled when he’s tired or just wants to be a small spoon whenever he feels like it. He’d refuse to go to work just to stay in bed all day with you. 

Husband Hyunjin whose dates consist of visiting art museums, picnics, watching musicals or movies, evening strolls, and road trips. Sometimes it gets over the moon when he decides to take you to (country) because you’ve been dying to visit the place. He giggled nonstop when he surprised you that he bought the tickets. 

Husband Hyunjin who would always bring his sketchbook and camera on dates just to take a picture of you or make his hand busy sketching a portrait of you just because he finds you beautiful every time. He will show them to you when he’s done. The pictures or sketches will be hung on your shared apartment's wall for safekeeping and memories. 

Husband Hyunjin who drives you crazy when he’s just doing normal things like simply unbuttoning his polo, rolling up his sleeves, taking off his jacket showing his bodybuild especially when he wears a tanktop inside, brushing his bangs upward, dancing? It would add fuel to the fire when he kisses you like a man starved from your touch. 

Husband Hyunjin who brings you food and medicine when you get sick. He will probably take his day off from work depending on how fast your recovery is that it would take days for him to sit there and take care of you. The type to make sure that you won’t die since he would end up grieving so hard. “It’s just a mild flu, Hyunjin.” “Are you sure?” 

Husband Hyunjin who is loud and dramatic whenever he realizes he got betrayed, lost a game, or is just being dumb (lovingly). He and Jisung are a perfect match and you’re the one who actually gets in between. 

Husband Hyunjin who gets shy whenever you compliment him but sometimes he would feel a blast of confidence that he gives you a wink as a response and becomes flirty.

Husband Hyunjin who loves to make a fool of himself, vocabulary just consists of memes (you can blame Han and Felix for that) cringes at his own cuteness and regrets it later just to make you laugh. 

Husband Hyunjin who lets you play with his long hair. He loves it when you do pigtails. You often tease him that he looks like Boo from Monsters Inc. 

Husband Hyunjin whom Kkami wants to disown. 

Husband Hyunjin who tries his hardest to comfort you as best as he can whenever he sees you being vulnerable in trying times. Promised not to leave you alone until you feel better, crack a dad joke he got from Chan to lift the atmosphere (which is effective by the way) and take you to his arms, whispering how he is proud of you. 

Husband Hyunjin who made a playlist filled with songs that make him think about you, scream your vibe, and the ones that would portray his exact feelings. Sometimes he would write down lyrics about how lovesick and hopeless romantic he is. All songs and melodies are heavily inspired by you. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to send you selfies, videos of him taken by the members that serve husband material, and voice messages whenever he’s abroad because he misses you so much that he cries himself to sleep and can’t wait to go home. It’s also necessary to send you short vlogs and pictures of sceneries of the places he went without you because of work and leave messages like, “This reminds me of you.” “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Let’s visit this place together soon!” “I’m sure you’d like these souvenirs I got you!” “The food out here is great! Treat me here soon!” 

Husband Hyunjin whose love languages are words of affirmation, physical touch, gift-giving, quality time, and acts of service. 

Husband Hyunjin who loves to spoil you even if you tell him not to spend a lot of money on you but he won’t listen and insists on accepting them. 

Husband Hyunjin who doesn’t admit his mistakes during the first few minutes of the argument but later apologizes over and over again and promises never to do it again. He’s also the type that is hard to make up with but he can’t keep it up for hours and just cuddles you whispering “I’m sorry, I’ll do better.” 

Husband Hyunjin who gets jealous easily and is possessive whenever he sees you having a good time with his members. “I’m yours, Hyunjin. Don’t worry.” You’d say but you know that is not enough for him so he’d show you to whom you belong (affectionately, or depending on how you both want it).

Husband Hyunjin who refused to get a divorce when you felt that your marriage was falling apart because he couldn’t imagine his life without you. He won’t let go of you easily and you didn’t even make any attempts to leave him. 

Husband Hyunjin who is careful whenever in talks of having kids because your decision matters in this relationship but he would reassure you that if you ever wanted to have one, he will be the best dad your kid could ask for. 

Husband Hyunjin who is the most precious, kind, and pure to your heart that you wouldn’t even want to live a life without him. He is the moon and stars to your night, the sunshine after the rain, the rose amongst the thorns, and the pretty shells you find on a beach where no one knows. 

Husband Hyunjin who holds your hand and intertwines your fingers as he kisses your knuckles saying, “I love you.” 

Husband Hyunjin whose wedding vows are not enough to show how much he would love to spend his entire life with you. “I fucking love you so fucking much and we’re married, you can’t leave. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not!” 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89 , @lashaemorow

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

02: Lose Control

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

Warnings: alcohol, Charles being an asshole

a/n: Hello hello!! Second chapter! And things will get even more and more exciting!

Masterlist

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Every way of feedback is very welcomed

I never liked the taste of the champagne. It was bitter and the bubbles of it always annoyed me whenever I tried to take a sip of it, making me hold the same glass the entire night whenever I went to a gala.

But now? Now the champagne tastes like glory, like a drink made by the gods to reward their champions.

And that's what I am. A champion.

The first step of the podium gave me the best view I could ever ask for: a gigantic Ferrari flag, tons and tons of people dressed in red with flags in their hands, and a red fog that ascended up to the sky, painting the clouds by the crimson red.

The anthem, played for the second time today, sounded louder than before, with all the Tifosi screaming it with the top of their lungs, watching how I stood in the highest step while I looked up at the sky with a proud smile on my lips.

He's looking at me from above, he was the one that helped me. 

Jules.

I looked down at the crowd. My family was there. My sisters hugged each other, jumping excitedly like when we were kids while they sang the anthem. My parents stood next to them, and next to my family was Charles' family, looking at me too with a proud smile.

This is my day and nothing will ruin it. Nothing and no one.

I hugged the trophy close to me, walking out of the podium and not letting it go until I got inside of my room. My safe place.

I knew I made mistakes. I knew I argued with my engineer more than I should, that I held that position for the entire race until I found a chance of taking the lead. I defended and fought like a lioness, and that's why I deserve the trophy and the glory.

My glory.

I sat on the bed, scanning with my eyes that heavy piece of metal with a bug number 1 on it and the Ferrari champagne bottle, already planning where I should put them in my apartment. Somewhere everyone that walked in could see it, showing them that I'm a race winner too, that women can win in a category dominated by men.

I felt the anxious buzzing in my mind of what I will be doing for the next few days: interviews, social events, meetings with sponsors.

But it's worth it, because for once, I want to go to those things. For once I want to choose a dress that I'll have to wear for hours while I stand surrounded by high society people that smell like expensive perfume and eat caviar as an entree to their meals. I want to read little cards to remember possible questions to the interviews for the TV. I want to go to show the world what I did.

Because I deserve it. I deserve it. I deserve it. I deserve it.

“Here is our winner!”

I looked at the door, watching my parents and sisters walking inside of the small room and somehow fitting in it.

My dad, a man with thick beard and brown hair, was wearing a cap of my collection, and my mom, a woman that was the older version of Soleil, with dark blonde hair and bright eyes, was wearing a red summer dress. Every race they assist, they wear red, all my family dress with my colors.

“How are you feeling?” my mom asked, sitting next to be in the bed and wrapping her arm around my shoulders, kissing my temple.

“Mom, I'm soaked in sweat and champagne!” I gasped when I felt her body pressed against mine. 

“The smell of a champion” she chuckled.

I laugh softly, watching how my dad grabbed the trophy and held it, taking pictures of himself with it and then with my sisters.

“Well… We will have dinner” my dad said, looking at me. “With the the Leclerc’s”

“What? Why with them!” I frowned.

“Because they are our friends” he frowned. “When will be the time that you two stop acting like kids? It has been twenty years already! Are you tired of this rivalry?”

“Dad…”

“No, Dafne” he said, pointing at me with his finger. “Stop this now. Can't you see that it's not funny anymore? Act like adults, now you two are teammates, and I heard that the team already gave you a warning”

I clenched my jaw, looking at him and then at my sisters. When the team gave us that warming the only ones that knew were them, and I asked them to not tell anything to my parents.

“I'm sorry but he's right” Soleil sighed, looking away. “It's only you two… We get along with Charles, you are the only one that can't stand him. Why?”

I took a deep breath and looked away, avoiding their gazes.

They wouldn't understand. Why would they? They don't know what happened. And they won't know. 

“Whatever, I have to go to the press” I said, grabbing the Ferrari cap. “It will take me a while, I'll see you at the restaurant. The same one as always?”

“Yeah” my dad sighed, watching me get up and walk out of the room, leaving them there.

No one will ruin my day.

I don't know how I ended up in this situation.

An hour ago I was leaving the track alone, my sisters went with my parents to the hotel to get ready while I was finishing the last interviews and team pictures. The music was high in the speakers and I just sang along to it. My backpack was on the backseats with the box of my trophy and the empty champagne bottle. When I arrived at the hotel, the fans saw me and they immediately walked towards me, chanting my name and wanting to take pictures with me.

At that moment, I was on cloud nine, loving the attention they gave me and not remembering that I was going to have dinner with him.

As I walked inside my room and saw the outfit my sister chose for me to take to the dinner, I tried to not think about it.

The black sparkly midi dress is one of my favorites, that hugs my body in the right places and is perfect to wear to formal events and even to parties. Just what I needed.

After I did my makeup and hair I grabbed my bag, taking a deep breath before opening the door of the room and walking out. The heels were uncomfortable, but at least I looked good in them. While walking downstairs to go to the restaurant of the hotel, I started to wonder if that girl Charles brought was going to be there too.

And to my surprise, she was. Dressing like she was in a high society gala. Again, it's like she doesn't know where she is.

“Did you explain to her that my nickname is only a nickname?” I said looking at Charles, watching how he rolled his eyes.

“She wears whatever she wants to wear” he groaned. “She looks fine”

“Fine?! You told me I look gorgeous!” she gasped, talking with that high pitched voice that made everyone close their eyes. 

I saw Charles sigh, grabbing a glass of wine and drinking half of it. Well, the dinner starts strong.

“Well, Melanie” I smiled looking at her. “What's your job? I'm curious”

“Oh, I'm trying to be an influencer” she said, looking at me with a smile. “It's starting to work, somehow”

Sure, because you are hinting you fuck Charles Leclerc.

“Mhm, which brands contacted you? Maybe we will meet in one?” I smiled. 

“Oh none…. Yet” she smiled weakly.

I felt Charles' eyes on me, his angry gaze piercing a hole in my head and how he drank the entire glass of wine. 

When the waitress walked us to the private room where the dinner will take place, our families did everything to sit us two next to the other. The long dining table separated us from our parents, yet it felt like Charles and I were worlds apart. The polite hum of conversation was just a background noise to the storm between us. 

My father stood up with his glass of whine, looking at me with a big proud smile. I sighed, grabbing my own glass and raising it like the rest of the table.

“To Dafne” he smiled, pointing his glass towards me. “The first woman to win a Formula 1 race”

I smiled and looked at everyone at the table. Arthur and Lorenzo were sitting next to each other, sitting in front of my sisters. My father was next to my mom and Pascale, and Melanie was just sitting next to Charles.

"To success," Charles said, his voice had a big amount of irony. "And to the people who think they can buy it"

"Success is earned, Charles. Some of us know the value of hard work" I shot him a look, trying to keep my composure.

"Oh, I know all about hard work," he scoffed, taking another sip of his refilled glass of wine "And the people who take advantage of it."

“Oh, really? You do?” I laughed, looking at him and then at Melanie. “I think you don’t, but okay. Good for you if you think you can recognize who works hard for something and who just buys their way to it. Clearly you should look around more often”

Our parents exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the undercurrent of hostility. Melanie, blissfully unaware, just sipped her wine and looked around the room with wide eyes.

"What exactly is your problem, Charles? Are you upset that I won today?" I leaned in closer to Charles, keeping my voice low so only he could hear. 

"I'm not upset that you won, Dafne. I'm upset that you think you can walk all over everyone to get what you want. That win should have been mine, I had more pace and better tyres” he groaned lowly.

“You did? Then why didn't you overtake me, hm? You clearly know that I would do whatever Ferrari orders me to do” I smirked. “And I didn’t hear a team order of letting you pass me”

Our families were now fully aware that something was off. My mother gave me a warning look, and Charles' older brother cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

"So, Dafne," he began, forcing a smile. "How did you feel about your performance today? It was quite impressive."

 "Thank you. It was a challenging race, but I'm happy with how it turned out” I said, taking a deep breath, ignoring the man next to me. Charles scoffed quietly, and I shot him another glare. "Is there something you'd like to add, Charles?"

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and something else I couldn't quite place. "Just that it must be nice to always get what you want."

I opened my mouth to respond, but Erica cut in, sensing that things were about to escalate. "The food looks amazing, doesn't it? Let's enjoy dinner."

The bass vibrated through the club, reverberating against the walls as red neon lights danced over the sweaty bodies of the dance floor. The music was loud, making everyone scream if they wanted to talk to someone or even take a step closer and talk to someone directly in their ears.

With the adrenaline of the race and the tension that took place during the dinner, I made my way towards the drinks bar, ordering whatever that doesn’t taste like alcohol but definitely has alcohol in it. With the cold glass already in my hand, I walked back to the table where my sisters were sitting with some girlfriends of the drivers.

“Have you seen Melanie?” I chuckled, feeling tipsy and looking around.

“Who?” Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, frowned. 

“Charles’ girl! She’s a wanna be influencer” I laughed, scanning with my eyes the crowd, trying to find the monegasque driver.

I heard my sisters sigh and sip their drinks, trying to ignore me. Alex and Carmen looked at me, frowning and following my gaze.

“Are you jealous? You sound jealous” Carmen pointed. “When will you stop talking about Charles? You say you hate him but you can’t stop looking or even talking about him”

“Me? Jealous?” I laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, that guy can take whoever he wants to his bed”

“Then let him live” Erica sighed. “Yes, we saw that Melanie is a gold digger. Yes, we saw she’s making everything to get his attention and fame. But that’s his problem”

“Erica is right” Soleil sighed. “You even sound worried about him, always talking about how bad the girls he choose are”

“I'm not!” I gasped.

“Mhm, whatever” the four of them sighed.

I groan and look away. They don't understand. They don't understand! 

I just stayed quiet, hearing them talk and focusing on a random spot at the other side of the club, drinking and drinking.

This is my day, no one will ruin it.

But then that idiot decided to grab a microphone and open his mind.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please listen!” he said, standing on top of a table. “I would love to say some words”

I frowned, getting up and already feeling tipsy, having to hold myself against the railing of the balcony where the VIP room was. He was holding a glass of some liquor, raising it up with a smile on his lips.

“I want to congratulate my fantastic teammate, Dafne! Daf, where are you?” he exclaimed looking around. “I guess she's hiding as always…”

“Fucking idiot” I mumbled, watching him look around.

“Well, maybe she's not here” he chuckled. “I'm sure she's with someone, maybe a random dude so she can keep going higher on her career. After all, that's how she got in Ferrari, hm?”

I looked at him and then I started to hear people talking, their eyes all moving around to search me.

“Jules always said that everyone has a chance in Formula 1” he giggled. “But her? Oh, no. She got in this sport sucking the dick of every person she found that could get her a seat. Mick! Mick, where are you? Is she good at that? Is she good at fucking you? I bet you two did it, she always ended higher than you… Head for some points? How pathetic, Daf”

My cheeks were red. My ears were red. Everyone who found me was looking at me. I heard steps behind me and a pair of hands trying to hold my arms, but I moved faster and ran downstairs towards him.

“Oh there she is! Who was the unfortunate one?” he giggled.

“Get down” I groaned, clenching my jaw. Somehow I am sober now. “Now!”

“Why?”

“Get down!” I screamed.

“No!” he laughed, drinking from his glass. “Aren't you satisfied? You had your win, you are in your dream team. I think you should take another step. Maybe… I don't know, suck Max's dick so he can give you a championship?”

“Charles Leclerc you are a dead man!” I screamed, running towards him and grabbing his leg, trying to get him down from the table.

This was supposed to be my day. My party, without someone like him ruining it.

Two pair of arms grabbed mine, stopping me and pulling me away from the club before I could do something worse. Soleil and Arthur were holding my arms, pulling me away from the crowd while Lorenzo and Erica tried to put down Charkes from the table.

“Let me go! I'm going to kill him!” I screamed.

“You are going to your room and stay there until you sober up” my sister said, frowning, sinking her nails on my arm to make me stop.

“That asshole is saying shit about me! And I'm the one that will be punished? Bullshit!” I exclaimed, but clearly they are not listening to me. “He should be the one that has to be punished! And you should wash his mouth with soap! And drown him on the toilet!”

“Enough!” Soleil exclaimed. “I'm so done with this. We all are done with you two. You are acting like kids”

“Why are you two like this?” Arthur frowned. “Why can't you two see that only you are the ones that hate each other? It's making the team and our families have problems”

“I did nothing wrong” I mumble, letting them take me to the elevator. “I didn't suck anyone's dick. I did every right”

“And we're not saying you did something like that. But you two always find a way to start a fight” Soleil sighed. 

“I did nothing wrong” I whispered.

Soleil sighed and grabbed my keycard, opening the door of my hotel room. Arthur and her helped me get in the room and then she took off my clothes to get me in bed.

“Don't do anything you'll regret tomorrow” Arthur and Soleil said before getting out of my room. 

I groaned, showing them my middle fingers before they walked out and closed the door. 

The silence in my room was too loud and the drum on my chest was beating too hard. I tried to walk side to side in the room,trying to calm down. The drops of the faucet in the bathroom are too loud, just like the air conditioner.

But then two hard knocks on the door broke the noisy silence in the room. 

I groaned, walking towards it to open it. 

And I shouldn't have done that.

“Oh fuck off” I groaned closing the door again, but he was faster and put his foot to stop me. “Charles-”

Before I could stop him, or even kick his balls, his lips were on mine, pushing me inside the room.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05

[thestarsloth]

I believe it is time for me to talk about piper again

Something i really dont like about this fandom is that we were quick to hate her even though the main reason wasnt her character

People generally hate her because of her relationship with drew. The problem here though is not piper, but the way drew was portrayed by the author. Drew was a flat character, and to me she was a lot like Nancy Bobofit (who didnt appear a lot tbh). In my opinion, if we knew drew a bit more, hers and Piper's fight would be much more interesting.

They also hate her because she ONCE said that the aphrodite cabin was shallow. We all know how rick has treated the aphrodite kids, right? Percy has said many things like that about them but noones hating on him. I know that is not an excuse but see the difference on how we treat the white boy?

Another reason is that she is not as traumatized as the others (??whywouldthatbeareason??) and people say she complains a lot, which, to be honest, i did not see in the books.

To start with, she was most of the time neglected by her dad who didnt understand her needs and never paid attention to her (to the point she had to steal a freaking car thank you very much). We' ve seen she was treated really bad from the kids in her school (racist comments and also comments about her family) and lets not talk about how bullying affects teenage kids. Lets just say that we all sympathized with percy when he was bullied and changed schools all the time but noone talks about the fact that piper was also bullied (and not by having pb&j thrown at her, which is also bad but...)

People also say that she is a "pick me" and "not like other girls". First of all, shaming her because she doesnt wear makeup or isnt stereotypically "girly" is more misogynistic than anything you say piper did.

She has never ever said anything that implies shes doing so for boys. Sje genuinly didnt like those things and people straight up attacked her for being a teenage girl with MASSIVE OTHER PROBLEMS TO DEAL WITH.

She did not shame drew for liking makeup as far as i remember, she only called the cabin shallow because they treated her EXACTLY like her bullies.

Also she "only talks about jason" and is "possesive". Hmhm. Reminds you of anything? OH! ANNABETH! But the white blond girl was excused because she was a "teenager", yet ive never seen anyone defend PIPER'S mistakes with that excuse, even if it is the truest thing for both her and Annabeth.

I have nothing against percy and annabeth, or people who headcanon piper as girly, but we should remember that canon piper was a teenage girl and support her just like we do with annabeth.

Thanks for reading my rant and i would love to hear opinions. I hope i didnt sound too agressive defending a fictional character hehe.

[000-pawz]

I NEEEED MORE DAD BONEDO HEADCANONS THEY ARE SO SILLY

OKAY OKAY (more under the cut cause i got carried away HELP) also this is my new universe guys so if u see more dad bnd posts, THIS IS THE REFERENCE I LOVE DAD BND

sungho

⭐ sungho girl dad agenda! no arguments!!! i also think sungho would have the most kids for some reason??? maybe 3? elementary age twins and then a baby (i will hold on to this for as long as i live)

⭐ he always wears the baby harness everywhere he goes

⭐ brings all the snacks to every single game. he's the cooler dad with all the caprisuns and cheese sticks

⭐ wakes up super early to make breakfast for everyone and pack lunches

⭐ helps his kids with all their homework and art projects. if his daughter shows up in your doorway in the middle of the night saying they forgot they had a project due tomorrow, he will run to the store at 1 am to buy glue sticks and cardstock to make sure his baby has a project to show for tomorrow

⭐ can be a little overprotective, but he just wants his babies to be safe!!! always reminds his kids that he'll come running whenever they need him

riwoo

⭐ i think riwoo would be a toddler boy dad!!! literally like an even minier riwoo

⭐ when his son was a newborn, he spent most of his time doing skin to skin contact, just soaking up the new feelings of being a father

⭐ supports his kid through EVERYTHING like if he wants to dress up as a pretty princess, he'd buying two tutus on his way home

⭐ very gentle with his disciplining. if his son draws on the wall, he'll show him how to clean it up and then softly explain why it's bad!

⭐ has a hard time saying no and WILL give his kid cake for breakfast if he asks

⭐ loves loves loves cuddling while watching animated movies, sharing a big blanket and snacks with his baby <333

jaehyun

⭐ girl dad to two girls!!! they're a year or two apart

⭐ #1 family guy and the leader of the neighborhood dad group chat

⭐ spoils them so so so so much!!! you literally have to tell him to stop buying them new clothes every other day because you're running out of closet space ><

⭐ shows off his kids to EVERYONE and always adds "they look just like their mama <3" with the biggest smile on his face

⭐ organizes all the barbeques and picnics, invites all the kids in the neighborhood (yes, even sungho's gremlin twins)

⭐ cries every time his kids make him a gift and gives them the biggest hug ever

⭐ also cries on every single birthday because why are they growing up so fast!!!!

taesan

⭐ i see taesan as a girl dad tbh </3 he'd probably only have one daughter too

⭐ reads his kids the most outrageous bedtime stories like why are you reading "1984" by george orwell to a four-year-old

⭐ would let his daughter record a silly intro for one of his songs and show her how he makes music

⭐ takes soooo many pictures of his daughter, like half of his camera roll is his daughter and the other half is you

⭐ his daughter always has the best outfits!!! would love matching outfits too

⭐ i think his daughter would subtly adopt his opinionated nature and then he would be confused as to why she's so sassy and opinionated >< the apple doesn't fall far from the tree taesan

leehan

⭐ boy and girl dada!!! <333 i think the girl would be older too?

⭐ is super annoying during drop-off and probably yells out the window how much he loves them just to embarrass them a bit

⭐ lets his kids do the most random things to his hair... you'll come home and leehan will have a head full of bows, cars, and stickers (you have to help him get the knots out later that night)

⭐ the easiest dad to talk to ever. never gets upset at his kids for confiding in him and always gives them the best advice

⭐ falls asleep in one of the kid's beds every night because putting them to bed is the most exhausting task ever

⭐ teaches his kids how to care for fish and lets them redecorate the take every now and then

⭐ takes his kids on random trips to aquariums, parks, museums (and no, he never asks for permission from you so you always find out in the most random ways, like your son showing you his new shark plushie from the gift shop)

[ashsimpsalot]

Family Business (Kid X Rich!Reader x Sita)

Your eyes trailed from one of your lovers to the other. You could see the gears in his brain almost wearing out from how much thinking he's doing. It's like his world stopped, he's just standing at the corner of the room, totally oblivious that he's visible to everyone, just staring intensely at your other lover, doing her job.

Well maybe the years of grudge he's held against the owner of the pair of hands that roamed around on her skin isn't helping too. You sighed and took a sip of the whiskey you've been nursing. Your mind wandered back to how you three got into this arrangement. The night you trailed 'Bobby' into the alleyway, confronting him about his plans.

"Kid," You confidently called him by his legal name.

Kid was beyond shocked when he realised that someone noticed him, him, the boy that came from the untouchables, in such a big, rich place.

"I think you and me should go for a little drive," he's even more shocked when he's made the connection that it's you, the only breathing relative of Queenie.

It was Sita, honestly, out of the three of you she's more observant, she came up to you, legs swinging over your own, straddling your lap, your hand carefully placed on her back, knee ready to press on her just like she always love, she had her lips kissing your ear before whispering that there's a man, a mere waiter, she's been curious about.

"could you find out for me, baby?" her sweet voice in your ear sending shivers down your spine.

"How could I ever deny my girl?" you asked her with a tease in your tone, already pulling her chin softly for a kiss.

It took a while, for the three of you to be a thing, though you've known Sita for a long time you two had never made it official. even then she's the only woman you've taken up to your real apartment. Not that you've not had your fair share of people you've brought up to the VIP room.

Sita felt the same way, you're the only person she's followed back home. Others she's only taken in the hotel.

Well Kid is Kid. He's had close to none romatical relationship.. Except that one guy he slept with for a bed and warm food for a couple of days that one time but that's a different story.

"everything's alright?" Queenie's voice cut you out of your thoughts. You hummed, holding up your 4th glass of whiskey and sipping them.

"everything's great," you replied with a fake smile. Fucking hate the bitch, want to pretend she cares and shit.

"oh no it's not, she's been in the blues!" one of the men laughed. You almost successfully tuned out all the annoying business partners Queenie had, unfortunately for you, your dad was a big investor in the hotel, when he died, it all went to you.

Now you're stuck sitting in a circle full of annoying rich fucks that Queenie associated with.

You're a rich fuck too but that's not the point.

She frowned and then gave you a smile.

"pick anyone in the room, my treat," she said. You tried to hold in your expression, can't make a decision too fast, she'll notice. You three had decided to go forth with the plan on the night before Diwali. You'll request Sita as your girl. You've thought about plainly 'buying Kid off of Queenie's hands'. Not like she hasn't done that.

Your auntie's eyes searches the room. You know she's only being nice to you because she thinks that she's still in your will. Jokes on her, when you discovered that she killed your mother, you've taken her name off of the will.

But that's not enough, you want her to suffer, and when she's finally dead, you're coming for all her assets next.

"I assume your favourite girl huh? Sita," she said eyeing Sita who was too busy with Rana. "will he let her go?" you 'joked'. She hummed and called to Sita, sending two other girls towards Rana. Not like the man would care, anything with holes and legs he'd stick his dick into.

Sita walked towards you, one of the men slapped her ass when she walked pass him, making her yelp but professionally covered it with a smile. She immediately straddled your lap, swaying her body with the music. You held her back close. Turning to the man and 'playfully' punched his shoulder, making him yelp and held his shoulder.

"my girl," you 'joked' with a stupid smile. None of these people can do anything to you anyway. You'd love to see them try.

You kissed her neck making her whine, you smiled into her neck before she leaned in, kissing your ear.

You listened carefully. It's a sign that she wanted to say something to you.

"Kid? He's been staring at me, I'm scared seeing Rana triggers him like before," she said softly, the love and worry in her voice made your chest flutter.

You pulled away and turned to your aunt.

"what if I want two?" you asked playfully, your hand tracing on Sita's chest over her black dress. Trying to deceive her, making sure she can't see that this woman in your arms doesn't just hold your lust but your heart too.

"take your pick,"

You pretend to eye the room, not like you don't already have your answer. You pointed towards Kid. "that waiter," you said simply.

"the waiter?" she asked. "the tall one?" she asked again, snapping her fingers at him. Kid immediately walked towards the table. Moving to hand the table the drugs but stopped by Queenie. She whispered something in his ears.

You realised the looks of the men in front of you, it's the first time you asked for two, it's the first time you asked for anyone else when Sita is already in your arms. You had to think quick.

You can't let them think anything is off. You can't elt them use your loves as a point of weakness to attack.

When Kid stood in front of you awkwardly you felt guilty for putting him in an uncomfortable place but you had to do something to throw their suspicions off.

"on your knees," you said simply, earning a look of confusion from Kid. Sita who's still swaying and grinding herself to the music on your lap tried to look unfazed.

Kid does it anyway, kneeling next to your seat, looking up at you like an obedient puppy. You reached out your hand and pat him like one.

"Saw something about pet play in the magazine," you started, putting that stupid stuck up rich face all the people here have. You hands played at Sita's chest, roaming them on the neckline and toying the strap. Before turning your head into Kid's direction and lifted his chin with your index finger.

"they said something about male pet having more ego. It's more fun to break," you bullshit your way through, you figured it worked because they all laughed. Of course, fucking up someone's self esteem is most of these people's past time.

"well have fun then!" one of the men laughed, you just smirked.

You pulled Sita into another kiss, more passionate one, you felt the need to erase any taste of that Rana off of her, at least so that later Kid won't taste anything but you and Sita, she panted at how heavy the kiss turned. When you pulled away, she let out the most beautiful whine, looking into your eyes with pure need.

"you wanna go out now, baby?" you asked softly. Which she then nodded.

"well gentlemen, we'll be going now, our girl here needs some attention," you joked as Sita stood up holding both of your hands. You wrapped an arm around her waist and bent to pull Kid by his tie. "come on, pet" you simply comanded.

The drive towards you apartment was filled with silence. At a traffic light you can't hold it in anymore. "I'm sorry," it came out with a heavy sigh.

"for humiliating you like that. I didn't... I saw the men and they all looked so fucking confused and suspicious an-and I knew these fucking people, I'm so scared they're going to dig in more or something," you rambled quickly only stopping when you felt Kid's huge hand resting itself on your shoulder.

"it's okay, I know you didn't mean anything by it," his quiet voice tried to comfort you. Sita already had her hand reaching out for yours.

"I just felt like one of those stupid rich fucks and I hate it so much" you brought Sita's hand to your lips and left a little peck, then reaching to caress Kid's hand on your shoulder.

The light turned green and you switched the gear and drove. One hand still holding onto Sita's.

"Just a few more days, baby, and we'll be as public as we want," she tried to comfort you, you offered her a tiny smile.

Day in and day out, pretending not to know them beyond just renting or using them at the hotel hurts but it always end with a night of gentle and slow passions pouring into each of you. Before you know it, it's one day before Diwali.

You've 'rented' Sita as your date, you decided to bring her on a little shopping spree, letting her choose whatever she wants, wherever she wants. You just followed her with a stupid smile on your face, carrying whatever bag she decided to hand you. She bought a new dress for herself, then dragged you into a store to find a pair of shoes that actually matches your outfit.

"it's your day, sweetheart, you should buy for yourself, not anyone else," you said simply as she goes through the store to find you the right match. She shakes her head and pouted a little before siting next to you. "what is it?" you asked tentatively, placing all the shopping bags on the floor.

"I just wish Kid was here. I... It's unfair that we're here preparing for tonight while he's just.. God knows where," she sighed, placing her head on your shoulder. You sighed too, throwing an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer and kissed the top of her head.

"When this is all over, I'll bring you two anywhere you want, buy you all the things you want," you said smoothly and she lifted her head to look at you. "really?"

You nodded your head and kissed her. "anything for my favourite girl," you said and kissed her again.

"you can pick out anything for Kid, too. It's not like he can say no to you," you joked.

The night came and you saw Kid outside of the building, he gave you a little nod but nothing more. Though you did note the new necklace Sita bought for him.

"take my card, sweetie, my feet hurt from following you around," you tried to make her laugh. Sita's face light up and stood up to go searching for more things she wanted to buy for Kid.

Sita looked gorgeous, a new gold dress you bought her, a bangle to decorate her wrist, a new necklace. "I feel you staring," she teased as you held onto her waist and lead her to sit at the designated spot.

"hm? Not like you mind," you cheekily answered.

The rest of the night was fucking boring, hearing all the bullshit Baba Shakti spew.

You looked over your shoulder, Kid just went into the hall and stared at you before nodding. You slowly took Sita's hand, kissing her on the back of her hand twice to notify her and Kid that everything's on que.

Multiple gunshots were heard from the lower floor, loud screams of panic filled the hall. Everything was silent before another series of gunshot was heard. People started evacuatimg from the door before you pretentiously pulled Queenie by her hand. "Auntie, what's happening?" you tried to appear panicked.

She just shakes her head. "everyone's evacuating to the lower floor, the VIPs are going up to VIP levels, we should go to the penthouse," she explained the escape route. You nodded and followed her. Sita hand held yours tightly.

You saw Kid trailing Rana Singh. Decided to leave him be and followed her to the elevator.

Once you're in the penthouse, Queenie was going through her purse to find her phone, before she could do anything Sita hit her head harshly with a tray, resulting in her falling to the floor, unconscious.

"that's kinda hot, sweetheart," you smiled and kissed her, Queenie on the floor was barely able to move. You took the tray and hit her head again. "fuck you! You killed your own sister! My mother!" you yelled and stepped on her hands. Earning a loud yell from her. You pulled her hair roughly. Forcing her to look at Sita.

"see that girl you degraded so much? She's the one your filthy money is going to be spent on when they're mine," you said with a mocking tone before hitting her head again with the tray. Again. Again. Again.

Until her face and head is basically a bug puddle of blood.

Before you could turn to say anything to Sita, a figure of a man was about to near her. You threw the knew you see on the counter right into his thigh, earning a loud groan. Sita turned and hit his head with the same tray.

"that's Baba Shakti, good job, baby," you smiled and kissed her, tying him up in a chair.

You chopped a piece of Queenie's finger and looked over to Sita, handing her a gun. "Remember what I said about using this?" you asked her and she nodded, you pulled her into another kiss "take care of yourself, if he wakes up just make sure he doesn't get out of the ropes."

"be careful," Sita said before you smiled and goes down the elevator.

You searched for Kid, finally finding him on the VIP floor, hitting Rana with a high heel.

"love," you said in relief that he's still alive. Kid looked up to you, so does half conscious Rana.

"y-you.." he croaked out. All the hate and stories Kid told you in vulnerability at night comes to you. All the bullshit he had to go through because of this man, the hate came to you and you looked at Kid. "finish the job, love,"

"you think... You can get... Away?" Rana hoarse voice said. You rolled your eyes and gave him a sweet smile. "of course I can, I'm fucking rich," you said and signaled Kid to end it. Which he did with the last swing of the high heel.

"come on, love, Sita's upstairs. Baba Shakti too," you said leading him up to the penthouse.

Baba Shakti was screaming insults at Sita even though he's tied in that chair. Kid just went and slap him across the face. "that's not how you talk to a lady," he said with a stern voice. "do you know who I am?" he asked, eyes not leaving the old man once.

You pulled Sita towards you, holding her, standing little far from Kid but close enough so he knows you're both there. Let him have his moments.

You looked at your phone, one of your guy shoot you a text saying that you all need to be out by 10 minutes, they're burning the whole hotel down. "5 more minutes, love," you said over the sound of Kid beating Baba Shakti again and again. Sita had leaned her head onto your shoulder, arms around your waist, both of you watched Kid fulfill his plans and eventually he's stopped. "let him burn to death," he said before walking towards the both of you and into the elevator.

Life is easy when you have money, much more easier when most policemen you knew speak the same language. Bribery.

It's really not that hard, cough up a little when you got out of the building, give money to whoever needed to testify that the gunshots they heard weren't gunshots but really just glasses being blown because it's too hot downstairs and they start exploding, pay a cop here and there to dispose some evidence.

Cry on interview when talking about your aunt.

Wear white at her funeral, having your lovers by your side and pretend to mourn.

Then voila! You're in a new apartment with your lovers, enjoying a jacuzzi while drinking wine and eating grapes.

You hummed as you laid your head onto Kid's chest, he's chuckling as Sita went from kissing his neck to just tickling it to mess with him. "I can sleep like this," you said with a sigh. Sita leaned over to kiss you before tickling your side. "hey!" you yelped and caught her hand making her giggle. You pulled her towards you and she yelled when you tried to dunk her into the water. She pulled at Kid's hands for help but instead she got the opposite.

"surrender! Surrender!" she begged when Kid lifted her, walking towards the outdoor pool you had. "Wait, wait, dalring, no! No! Bad monkey! Bad! Ahh!" she yelled when Kid threw her into the pool. You let out a big laugh when Sita keep throwing water in Kid's direction.

God he looks too hot like this. Under the sun with swimming trunks and Sita... She wearing her little bikinis.

Barely could hold it in.

"what are you laughing about jaan?" Kid asked walking towards you.

Shit, time to run.

[sweetandglovelyart]

Now that I’ve finished the most recent comic page I think I should actually try and do some proper drawings of some of my OCs. Get ready to see Taranza’s mom Theraphoza, I’m working on drawing her first 🕷️

[siriuslynephilim]

tag limit hit ho gayi yaar

[sing-you-fools]

the problem with transing my gender when I did is. you see. I hate skinny jeans.

[toytulini]

I saw Barbie last night, I dont think i have a long film review of it for yall but idk I'll put some thoughts under a readmore I guess?

-Right off the bat, I enjoyed it, it was fun. It was a fun pink poppy romp. Thats about what I expected of it, and thats pretty much what I got

-Its not particularly radical in its gender/feminism takes, its very basic, which, I saw a number of ppl mention that before I saw it so I wasnt expecting anything radical. It couldve done better. it was. fine. im shrug about it i guess.

-My mom enjoyed it and was apparently not expecting any sort of emotional depth or story at all so it caught her off guard. I heard her crying. she cries easy at movies. I'm glad my mom liked it. Maybe she'll absorb some of the very basic feminism it drops idk.

-I knew the Kens adopted patriarchy and introduced it to Barbieland but it felt lile that happened very fast, idk.

-The ending....I. is her going to a gynecologist supposed to be like. shes gotten a vagina by deciding to be human?? or is she trying to schedule a surgery or something? that felt pretty weird to me if im honest, i thought it was gonna be a job interview or smth... Especially with how everyone was like "Barbie is ace (heheeh i agree) cos she has no genitals! (sorry what. excuse me. wanna run that by me again?)" like okay that makes that headcanon reasoning even more dewply uncomfortable that it already was?

-I enjoyed weird Barbie. i wish theyd cast someone else cos iirc ka/te mckin/non was a transmisogynist? unless she apologized or said she changed her mind on the topic since like 2017?? but i havent seen anything? idk. just. annoying to keep platforming these ppl. i guess theres probably other actors involved that have shit views of trans ppl. whatever i guess.

-I did dress up a little. i feel like my outfit had Weird Barbie Vibes. maybe ill post a pic.

-I did enjoy it and it had a number of shots and or transitions i liked, i think the one with the disco ball to the moon or whatever was enjoyable.

-god we really are so weird about barbie

-it just feels factually incorrect that all dolls pre barbie were baby dolls? idk. im sure it was the most common kind. but idk. not to be weird about The History Of Dolls but like. the porcelain dolls from the Victorian era. idk if those count as baby dolls. iirc those were to help young girls practice prepping dead bodies of loved ones for funerals or smth??? but i guess porcelain dolls have a sort of babyish look about them. and are fragile so you cant play rough with them.

-Like i Know its a 2hr long toy commercial for mattel but also god that cant be right. even if they werent filling the same niche as barbie as idk basically a fashion doll? there had to be other dolls right?

-I know the flat foot thing is Supposed to be over the top and silly for them all to get upset about but also tbh. as a bitch with falling arches the way some of yall make jokes about flat feet still is uh. well. rude. but also lmao man. the day my arches started hurting for no reason while i was barefoot did sorta feel emotionally like her feet falling to the ground lol.

-i want to introduce barbie to margot robbie's harley quinn owo. i think that would be Fun :3

-i want Ken's job. how do i do Beach as an occupation.

-I actually liked how they handled Ken and Barbie's rship til the end. i feel weird about that ending overall and also it feels weak wrt her dynamic as Ken. they make him grapple w her not reciprocating his feelings the same way but then she just leaves barbieland anyway?? and ig they dont get to explore a friendship or qpr dynamic. ok. its fine i guess.

-her saying she has no genitalia felt so transgender in a way im not sure it was intended to. ken saying he has all of the genitalia felt even more transgender. headcanoning them both as extremely transgender in fun weird new ways and no one can stop me.

-Allan is my favorite character i think. bro me too

-bibbleless movie. add bibble.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

One of my younger cousins came out as trans which is like “okay, cool. Good for them” the problem is that until that point she was assumed to be a boy and has I believe two brothers. They all looked really similar and now that they are all older it’s even harder to tell who is who (aside from the girl sibling). Now, I’m already pretty face blind and only saw them about three or four times a year growing up, so, since her family isn’t using her deadname (and fuck yeah they better not!) I don’t actually know which sibling had their name changed. I couldn’t keep track of the names already and now I’m like “I don’t want to call one of them their sister’s deadname but it feels awkward to ask kids I knew since they were babies what their name is”

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[thethirdtriplet]

Headcanon for the Bats:

The Bats are absolute menaces to society, in their own weird and unique ways.

—————

Dick refuses to be referred to as anything but “Dick” when in public with his family or even his friends, so no, he will not be referred to by his legal name or any of his common nicknames, but any and all variations or nicknames for “Dick” (Dickie, Dikehead, ect…) are acceptable:

It almost makes Dick a little too happy when any of his siblings yells “Dick” in a crowded room or public place.

One woman actually yelled at Dick and his siblings for their language, that is, until he informed her that Dick is his name. She was so embarrassed she turned a deep shade of red and she apologised.

Dick tried to hide his smirk because he's an absolutely horrible person. His siblings are not impressed, and refuse to admit that it’s kinda funny.

—————

On Father’s Day, Bruce receives a multitude of gifts from his children (whether legal, emotional or biological), as a joke he has to receive at least one gift that has “worst parent ever” on it, from one of them. And while he loves all of the gifts (gag gifts or sentimental) equally, he still has his favourites:

Bruce might enjoy the utter horror and unease a little more than necessary as he uses the thermos Jason bought him for Father’s Day with the words “worst dad ever”, printed on the front, in bright red for all to see.

He is currently forced to endure attending yet another board meeting when one -brave but stupid- new board member made a rather rude comment about how Bruce’s kids shouldn’t disrespect him with such gifts. Which prompts Bruce to go on a tirade about how he should mind his own business, and never speak about any of his kids like that. It got so bad, and he was so furious, that none of the other board members mentioned that the meeting would be ending soon. By the end of Bruce’s speech, their time was up and the meeting had to end.

Not that Bruce was finished. The next day, to work, bruce wore the bright blue tie Dick had gotten him, holding the mug Tim got him that had “Not the best parent, but I am trying my best.” printed on it. And he has continued to wear the things his kids buy him to work, without fail.

No one mentions anything about his clothing choices or the mugs (yes, mugs because there’re multiple mugs with equally concerning words printed on all of them), because if they do, he will go on a tirade about his kids and how much he loves them, and no work will get done.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]

You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.

CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.

FIRST PART (can be read separately) AO3

— Why your wife left you, again? 

You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad. 

You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good. 

— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi? 

He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous. 

He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there. 

— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know. 

— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger. 

— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage. 

— You’re too young to stop believing in it. 

— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir. 

— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja? König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him. If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him. 

— Could you two please stop fucking each other? 

— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.

— This is my house too!

— Not on the documents, it’s not. — You can’t just throw me away, dad! — Your new stepmom needs her space. 

König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig. König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement. 

— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age! — And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her. — She is my girlfriend! — Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option. You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time. 

Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge. 

König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention. 

If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention. 

His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something. 

— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son. 

He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing. 

König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .

He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends. 

But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are. — I don’t think we should be…

— He left. Won’t bother us anymore. 

— I’m not in the mood right now. 

— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy. — You’re a pervert. Like Paul. 

— He takes on after his father, ja?

It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other. 

König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did. 

You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts. 

— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.

— I assume after…af..ter your wife. 

You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both. — Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you. 

— I’m not dumb! 

— Nein, you’re not. Just silly. 

— You just call me a different type of dumb. 

— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter. 

König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this. 

He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street. 

— I want to take you to the Summer house next week. 

You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one. — What if I have plans, sir? 

It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him. 

He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good. 

— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer. 

— I wanted to study. 

You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him. — You can study at our house. 

— You mean you and your ex’s house. 

He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again. 

You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again. 

— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying. 

— I want a nice job. Without…distractions. 

He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s. 

— Why you need a job? 

— Not everyone are retired military. I need money. 

— You have me. 

— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir. 

— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.

König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost. 

You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone. 

König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later. 

Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then… — What do you think about getting married in August?

Maybe, you do know why his wife left him. 

[storiesforallfandoms]

new toy ~ felix catton;saltburn

word count: 5901

request?: no

description: when he brings a girl home for the summer, she finds herself struggling to fit into his lifestyle

pairing: felix catton x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of parent deaths, farleigh being a catty rich bitch (affectionate), feelings of insecurity and inadequacy, little bit of angst, things get steamy but no actual smut in this one

masterlist (one, two, three)

Venetia rushed to the window of her bedroom as she heard the car carrying her brother pulling up the drive. The family had been made aware that Felix was bringing a friend home for the summer. Not that anyone had to tell them. Felix often had a new sad sack in tow whenever he came home from school, who would never be seen again once they returned to school at the end of the summer. Venetia had tried to get some information on this new friend from Farleigh, but her cousin said he hadn't seen anyone new hanging out with Felix during the school year. She was itching to get a peak at Felix's newest toy.

She gasped and turned to Farleigh, who was looking at her in curiosity. "It's a girl!"

(Y/N) stepped out of the car as Felix excitedly talked away. She looked at the giant house with wide eyes. She knew Felix had money; his parents were paying his way through college after all, meanwhile (Y/N) was a scholarship kid. But she never could've imagined he was this level of rich. His house was a goddamn castle!

She was wondering if it was too late to back out of Felix's offer to stay over.

An older man dressed in a black suit opened the front door as (Y/N) and Felix approached. (Y/N) stopped suddenly as the man's glare landed on her.

"Duncan!" Felix exclaimed. "How are you, you serious old brute?"

"Good to see you, master Felix. This is your new...friend?"

The way he said it made (Y/N) wince.

Felix turned to her and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Don't be frightened, (Y/N). This is my family butler, Duncan. He looks terrifying, but his bark is worse than his bite."

(Y/N) tried to smile at Duncan, but he merely continued to stare her down. She shrunk into Felix's embrace, which, luckily, the taller boy noticed her discomfort and brought her into the house. With his arm still around her, Felix brought (Y/N) around the giant house. There was so much to see, so much to know. There was simply no way she'd remember it all. She expected to get lost just trying to get to the bathroom.

Luckily, that wouldn't be a problem at least, as Felix led her into his room. "Your room is just through here. We'll be sharing a bathroom. Hope you don't mind."

She was glad he wasn't facing her so he missed the look on her face at his statement.

Felix threw the door to her room open with a flourish before turning to her. "And this is where you'll be staying. Don't worry about unpacking, the butlers will do that for you. It has a nice view of the garden and such, and I'm just next door past the bathroom, as you've already seen."

He flopped down onto her bed and stretched out so he was taking up the entire bed. (Y/N) pushed his leg over a bit so she could sit next to him. "It's a lot to take in."

"I know," Felix said. He rolled onto his side to look up at her. "It'll feel like a lot, but I promise my family will love you. And if it gets overwhelming, I'll be here."

He put his hand on her leg. She looked down at it, the heat from where his hand was touching rising from that spot all the way up to her face. Her entire body felt like it had been ignited by a simple gesture to try and bring her comfort. She wondered if Felix knew what he did to her.

She tried not to let her disappointment show as Felix stood, removing his hand from her leg.

"I'll let you unwind or whatever," he said. "Dinner isn't until 5, so you have plenty of time to yourself until then. You brought a dress, right?" She nodded. "Good. Mum and dad insist on fancy dinner wear. It's a little embarrassing. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

And just like that, he was gone. (Y/N) sighed and fell back onto the bed.

This definitely was not how she expected to spend her summer. She had started her time at Oxford as an outcast, a scholarship loser among a sea of rich kids. She tired not to let it get to her. Getting into Oxford at all was a big deal, (Y/N) knew to be proud of that. But that didn't make the whispers and dirty looks directed towards her any easier to take.

She didn't seek out friendship with anyone, let alone with Felix. Of course, she had noticed Felix. Who wouldn't? He was beautiful and had charm for days. Everyone loved him. But (Y/N) knew better than to try and approach him. They were from two completely different worlds, and (Y/N) knew she didn't belong in his world.

To her surprise, it was Felix who initiated first contact.

They were in an English class together. Felix had sat next to her one day and asked, "Did you finish the reading for today?" (Y/N) was so shocked that he had spoken to her that she could only nod in response. "Can you summarize it for me? I tried to read it but it was so fucking boring."

Apparently, that one act of kindness was enough to consider (Y/N) a friend. Felix invited her to sit with him at the bar, to come study in his room, to go to the "invite only" parties on campus. His other rich friends didn't seem to enjoy her company, but he did and that's all that mattered.

When (Y/N) told Felix she had nowhere to go for the summer, he invited her to come stay with him and his family in Saltburn. He refused to take no for an answer. So now here she was, in a bedroom that only had a bathroom to separate her and the boy she had started developing feelings for but knew she couldn't have, in a house the size of a castle owned by a family who mad more money than she'd ever see in her life.

She let out another sigh for good measure before sitting up. She still had plenty of time before dinner, but she wanted to make sure she was presentable to meet Felix's family for the first time. She got up and went to the bathroom, locking the door that led to Felix's room just in case. There was no shower, so she had to opt for a bath. She tried to be quick, but once she had laid in the oversized tub and allowed the hot water to engulf her, she never wanted to get out. Maybe she could spend the entire summer in the tub instead of dealing with Felix's family.

When the water began to go cold, she reluctantly got out and returned to her room. She had packed the limited amount of makeup she owned just in case there were any formal gatherings she needed to dress up for. Now she was definitely glad she had if dinner was meant to be a formal thing. She did her makeup carefully to make sure it was perfect, then dug through her bag for the dress she had packed. It wasn't anything super fancy, just a royal blue, off the shoulder dress with a pleated skirt that came down just above the knee. It was the nicest dress she owned, so eh hoped it would suffice.

There was still some time before dinner, but (Y/N) figured it was time to meet the family.

She stepped out of her room and realized she had no idea where to go to find the dining room.

"Need help?"

(Y/N) jumped and turned to see Duncan stood, blank faced yet again, looking at her,

"Yes please," she responded, her voice soft.

"Follow me," Duncan told her. He didn't wait to see if she was following, she she quickly troted along behind him to keep up.

The Catton family was sat around the dinner table already when Duncan led (Y/N) into the room. All eyes turned to her when she walked in. She suddenly felt very self conscious and wished she was back in the hot, welcoming bath tub.

Until she caught Felix looking at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

"Oh, Felix, darling," an older woman sat at the head of the table - Felix's mom - said. "She is absolutely beautiful."

His mom stood from her seat and quickly approached (Y/N). She gently cupped (Y/N)'s cheeks. (Y/N) tensed, unsure of what to do. Mrs. Catton didn't seem to notice, or if she did she didn't let on.

"Honey, you didn't tell us how beautiful she was," Mrs. Catton said to her son.

"You never believe me," Felix retorted.

Mrs. Catton turned back to (Y/N). "Welcome, darling. We're very happy to have you here. You can call me Lady Elspeth." She took (Y/N)'s hands and squeezed them, then gestured towards the table. "We left a seat free next to Felix for you. Come, sit. Dinner will be served soon."

(Y/N) quickly moved to the table, oping to no longer be the center of attention. Felix was still smiling at her as she sat down next to him.

"You do look beautiful," he said.

Her face started heating up. "Thank you."

Across from them, a throat cleared. Felix glanced up at his cousin. (Y/N) didn't miss the subtle change in Felix's expression. "(Y/N), this is my cousin, Farleigh, and my sister, Venetia."

"Oh, I know Farleigh," she said, looking over at the other young man. He gave her an obviously forced smile. "I-I mean, I know of Farleigh. I've seen you around on campus."

"Weird that I haven't seen you. It's not like Felix to hide his friends away," Farleigh said.

"I wasn't hiding her away." Felix's face was tense. (Y/N) wondered what the story between him and Farleigh was. They seemed to get along well on campus, or at least Farleigh was in Felix's friend group.

Dinner was served, thus breaking up the tense moment. A plate was placed in front of everyone and they all began to eat. (Y/N) tried not to draw too much attention to herself, but she knew her presence alone was drawing attention. Both Farleigh and Venetia weren't very subtle with the way they were staring at her.

"So, (Y/N)," Elspeth said after a few moments of silence, "what is it you're studying at Oxford?"

"English," (Y/N) responded. "I'd like to be a writer when I graduate, but I know that's not an entirely realistic dream so I'm aiming to be an English teacher as a backup."

"Oh, writing! That's wonderful, darling!" Elspeth said. (Y/N) was somewhat shocked that Elspeth seemed genuine with her interest. "Have you written anything yet?"

"A few short stories." She shrugged. "Nothing major."

"'Nothing major'?" Felix questioned. "She's won contests with her short stories! Remember, you told me one of your stories was published in an anthology of short stories when you were still in high school?"

Elspeth and Felix's dad, Sir James, were impressed, while (Y/N) was surprised that Felix had remembered her telling him that. He was smiling down at her in pride and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Is that how you got your scholarship?" Farleigh asked. The look on his face told (Y/N) that his question wasn't as genuine as Elspeth's had been.

"Farleigh," Felix sneered.

"What? I was just asking. It's not like it's a secret that she's a scholarship kid. There's no shame in needing some financial help."

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

"Boys," James said, his voice stern in warning.

Dinner fell quiet after that. (Y/N) pushed her food around her plate, suddenly no longer hungry. She was back to wishing she could melt away into the floor and never be seen again. Maybe it wasn't too late to just go back to the school and stay in the dorms alone for the summer.

Once she had finished eating, she politely excused herself and went back to her room. She had paid enough attention when Duncan showed her to the dining room that she made it back with no issue. The minute the door closed behind her, she let out a sigh. A lump had started to form in her throat, but she was refusing to let herself cry. Even now while she was alone, she didn't want to give in to these feelings. She had to be strong, at least until she could get her things together and figure out a way back to the school.

As Felix had told her, the butlers had unpacked her bag while she was at dinner. It took her a moment to find her pajamas and makeup remover. She pulled on an oversized shirt she had packed to wear on the warm nights and was leaned over the dresser to start taking off her makeup, the shirt riding up just enough, when the door connecting her and Felix suddenly opened. Felix walked in, still in his suit from dinner, except he had removed his tie and the top few buttons had been undone. (Y/N) quickly stood up straight, pulling her shirt down to cover her ass.

"Don't you knock?" she asked.

"No, why would I?" he said.

"What if I was changing?"

"You weren't."

She rolled her eyes and went back to taking her makeup off, this time more cautious about how much of her was being exposed with Felix in the room.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about how Farleigh acted during dinner," Felix said.

(Y/N) paused for a moment. She glanced at Felix through the mirror. He was looking up at her with an expression that told her his apology was genuine.

"It's alright," she said.

"No, it wasn't alright. He shouldn't be saying those things about you. It's not like he's much different. My parents have financially supported him for years and let him stay here for free. At least you earned your scholarship, he only got his way in life because of his family."

"So did you, though." There was a beat, and (Y/N) quickly turned to face Felix. "Wait, I didn't mean - "

"No, you're right," he cut her off. "My parents have financially helped me, too. You're the only one among us who has really earned your spot at Oxford. It's not fair of Farleigh to try and make you feel small because you come from a different background."

(Y/N) wanted to tell him it wasn't just Farleigh, it was everyone at Oxford. Even Felix's own friend group had shunned (Y/N) when he introduced her to them. It felt like Felix was the only one who truly wanted to befriend (Y/N).

"You don't have to apologize for him," she said instead. "But I appreciate that you'd want to."

"You're my friend. I didn't bring you here to be insulted by my obnoxious cousin, I brought you here because I wanted you to spend the summer with us."

Friend.

Even though she knew that's all they were, it still stung to hear him say it. She wanted so much more than that, but it was wishful thinking to believe that Felix cause ever want more than that.

"I...I think I'm gonna just...get in bed."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "It's still only early."

"I know. All the travel just has me feeling pretty worn out."

"Okay."

He stood and (Y/N) expected him to go back to his room. When he started to unbutton his shirt more, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"What are you doing?!"

"I was going to stay over here tonight. If you were okay with that, that is."

"You're supposed to ask these things before you just start undressing."

Felix chuckled as (Y/N) turned her back to him. "You really don't want to watch as I undress?"

Of course I want to watch! "I'm just...trying to be courteous."

He laughed again. (Y/N) could hear the sounds of his clothes hitting the floor. She wondered why he hadn't at least gone back to his room to get a pair of pajamas. At least pajama pants. She was starting to get the feeling that at home, Felix didn't have to ask many questions, and that also extended towards his guests.

"Okay, I am covered."

When she turned back, he was under the covers of her bed, his hands behind his head so she could see that he was at least shirtless under there.

"The bed is big enough for us to share," he said, reading the shocked look on her face. "That is, again, if you don't mind."

"N-No. I-I guess that's fine."

(Y/N) crawled into bed next to Felix. She tried to put as much distance between the two of them as she could but, despite what Felix said, the bed certainly was not that big. She could still feel the heat from his body as she turned onto her side, her back to him. She could feel his nearness. And she could feel the fact that he was only wearing his boxers.

"You don't have to stay, you know," she said. "I'm not going to slip away during the night or something."

He bed shook a little as he laughed. "I know. I just wanted to stay over here. At the very least, I want to make sure you don't have any issues sleeping. I always find I struggle when I'm trying to sleep in a new place."

(Y/N) rolled onto her other side so that she could face Felix. The full moon was shining through the window, illuminating his face. He turned his head to look down at her.

"I really appreciate everything you've done for me, Felix," she said, her voice so soft it was nearly a whisper.

He smiled. "Get some sleep, (Y/N). I don't intend on having a boring day tomorrow if the weather is nice."

~~~~~~

When (Y/N) woke up the next morning, she completely forgot where she was. The bed was far too soft to be the one in her dorm at Oxford, and it was certainly too hot to be just a normal day during the schooling semester.

Not to mention the fact that there was a body laying under her.

(Y/N)'s eyes snapped open as she realized her head was resting on Felix's chest, and his arm around wrapped around her. At some point in the night, they must've shifted so that they were cuddling. (Y/N) wasn't sure if she should pull away or stay where she was. What would Felix's reaction be when he woke up and found them both in such a compromising position?

A knock came at her door. "Miss. (Y/N)?"

It was Duncan's voice. Now she was definitely panicking.

"Just checking if you're awake," he added.

"Uh...yeah! I am Duncan!" she called back.

"Breakfast is being served in ten minutes. Do wake up master Felix and let him know as well. His mother will want him to punctual since she didn't get as much time with him last night."

Her face burned. She wondered if Duncan knew Felix was in here with her, or if he meant for her to go over to Felix's room to wake him.

The sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway told her that Duncan had walked away. She let out a breath, relaxing into Felix's side yet again. She felt him move beneath her and she quickly pulled out of his arms before he started to wake up.

She was shocked at how beautiful he looked in the morning. The same perfect beauty he had when he fell asleep. Not a single hair out of place, no drool on his lips, no sleepy gunk in his eyes. It was really unfair just how perfect he really was.

His eyes slowly blinked open and he smiled when he saw (Y/N) looking down at him. "Good morning."

"Morning," she said. "Uh, Duncan was just here. He said breakfast is in ten minutes."

Felix groaned. "I don't want to get up yet. Why does mum have to have breakfast so early?"

(Y/N) looked at the clock hung on the wall. "It's almost 10am."

"Far too early to wake up in the summer."

She couldn't help but chuckle a little. Felix stretched his arms out and sat up as well. His face was suddenly very close to hers, almost too close.

"I suppose I should get ready for breakfast then," he said.

"Is there any dress code for breakfast?"

He shook his head. "Not for breakfast, but the dress code for today's events is a bathing suit. Once we finish eating, I'm taking you down to the lake."

~~~~~~

A few hours later, (Y/N) was following Felix towards the lake next to his house. It was a scorching hot day outside. One that was definitely better spent in the cooling water instead of cooped up inside.

Farleigh and Venetia were already by the lake. Farleigh was laid back on a towel, reading some book, while Venetia was sat by the lake with her feet in the water. She looked over her shoulder as she heard the two approach and smiled.

"Well, here they are!" she announced. "Finally you're here."

"Pull up a towel," Farleigh said, not looking up from his book.

(Y/N) went to sit on the grass, but Venetia called, "Not you! You're joining me down here. I've been surrounded by this testosterone for far too long."

She wasn't about to argue. She was already coated in sweat just from walking down from the house. (Y/N) sat beside Venetia and placed her feet in the water. The sudden cold was like a shock to her system, but definitely a welcome one.

"So, (Y/N)," Venetia said, "tell me, how did you and my brother meet?"

"We were in class together," (Y/N) responded. "I helped him with an assigned reading he had trouble with."

"Saved my ass from failing that surprise test the professor gave us," Felix added.

"It wasn't a surprise, he told us about it the class before," (Y/N) said.

"I wasn't there that class, so it was a surprise to me."

"Was that the day you were too hungover after a dorm party on a Sunday night?" Farleigh asked.

"A Sunday?!" (Y/N) laughed.

"It was a surprise party for one of my friends in the dorm," Felix responded. "He had gone home for the weekend so we had to have the party that Sunday. I didn't plan to get fucked up that night."

"You never do," Farleigh commented.

"What about your family, (Y/N)?" Venetia interrupted. "Are they okay with you spending your summer with a load of strangers?"

Felix opened his mouth to deter his sister from asking, but (Y/N) cut him off by saying, "My parents are dead."

A silence fell over them. Venetia looked a mixture of horrified and sad. Farleigh lowered his book to look over at (Y/N). Felix was trying not to look at any of them while (Y/N) was fixing her attention on the water in front of her. She was running her feet back and forth, disrupting the otherwise calm water.

"They died when I was ten," she continued. "Car accident, drunk driver. I've lived with my grandparents since then, but my grandpa died a year ago and my gran is starting to develop dementia. When I got accepted into Oxford, I made a deal with the Dean that I could stay on campus during the summers until I could afford my own place."

Venetia looked like she was about to cry. (Y/N) suddenly wished she had lied and made up some story about her parents.

"Way to ruin the moon, V," Farleigh commented.

"I didn't know!" Venetia retorted.

"No, it's fine," (Y/N) cut off their bickering. "It's tough, but I've had years to come to terms with all the death, and gran is in a nursing home now so she's being taken care of. I don't want anyone to tip toe around me like I'm made of glass."

As if to make her point, (Y/N) pushed off the edge of the lake and into the water. She shrieked as the cold engulfed her. Venetia followed suit, and soon enough both of them had convinced Farleigh and Felix to get into the water as well. The conversation was long forgotten as they swam around, splashing one another as if they were children.

~~~~~~

That night, (Y/N) was sat in the garden underneath her bedroom window. With the sun gone down, the air had cooled off, but only slightly. The room was still too stuffy for her, and opening the window just made it worse, so she opted to sit out in the cool air before she tried to sleep again.

Footsteps approached and she expected it to be Felix. When she turned, she was surprised to see Venetia instead, dressed in a sheer nightgown and carrying a lit cigarette between her fingers.

"Mind if I sit?" Venetia asked.

"I feel like I should be the one asking you that, considering it's your house."

Venetia chuckled and sat next to her.

(Y/N)'s first impression of Venetia had been wrong, and she was kind of glad it had been. She thought that, like Farleigh, Venetia was also going to be a little catty and condescending towards her. But after their day by the lake, she felt a sort of kinship with Venetia. They were the only two young girls at Saltburn, they had to look out for one another at the very least.

"So, how are you enjoying your stay so far?" Venetia asked.

"It's lovely here," (Y/N) said. "Much better than spending the summer at the Oxford campus along. At least there's a lot of the house to explore, and at least two people who seem to want me here."

"Three, if you count mum. She's ecstatic to have you. If you're not careful, she might just try and adopt you."

"I wouldn't complain."

Venetia took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. "And, um...has Felix been treating you well?"

(Y/N) looked over at her with confusion. "I'd...say more than well. Why?"

"I just..." Venetia leaned over, resting her arms against her legs. "I'm not saying this to try and scare you or anything. I truly like you, (Y/N), and I just want to warn you because I know how my brother is. He often takes someone who is a little more...damaged than him under his wing and brings them back here for a few months. But once the summer ends, or once he's lost interest, he casts them aside for whatever new shiny toy catches his attention."

Venetia's words hit (Y/N) like a ton of bricks. She had been telling herself for months since meeting Felix that their friendship was too good to be true, that he was going to realize he was making a mistake and move on. But when he didn't, when he asked her back to his house for the summer, she thought that maybe she was wrong. Maybe he actually did care for her and wanted to be friends with her. She had a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe this summer would bring them closer together, that they could become more than just friends.

If anyone would know how Felix was, it would be Venetia. She was his sister. She had seen a lifetime of the way Felix acted with friends. If she was warning her of the possibility that Felix might toss her aside once the summer ended, then she felt inclined to believe Venetia.

"Again, I'm not telling you this as a way to make you upset," Venetia added. "Trust me, I want nothing more than for you to stay with us for the summer. I just really do not want you to get hurt if that's what happens with Felix."

Tears were forming in (Y/N)'s eyes again. She was having a harder time at fighting them than the night before after all Farleigh had said to her. She quickly stood and murmured a "goodnight" to Venetia before rushing back inside the house. She got to her bedroom just in time for the tears to start falling.

Stupid! You're so stupid for thinking you belonged here in his world. You're nothing more than a charity case for him!

(Y/N) sunk to the floor and buried her head in her hands. She cried and cried until the tears dried up and she was essentially dry sobbing. Her eyes felt heavy and her body was aching from being on the floor for so long. She just wanted to go to back to the school and pretend this entire trip never happened.

When she finally coaxed herself to stand, (Y/N) went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth before bed. She looked at herself in the mirror and winced. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks were flush, and there were tear stains on her cheeks from crying. She grabbed a face cloth and wet it down with warm water. Before she could start wiping her face, the door leading to Felix's room opened. She froze, the wet cloth in her hands.

"Hey," Felix said. She thought for a moment that he hadn't noticed her state, until suddenly he was beside her. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, wincing again at the sound of her horse voice.

"You don't look or sound fine."

She began to wipe her face, trying to ignore Felix's presence. As she rinsed the face cloth again, she said, "I think I'm going to call the Dean tomorrow to ask if my room is still available at the school, then look into getting the next train back to Oxford as soon as possible."

"What? Why? I thought you wanted to stay."

(Y/N) shook her head. "I don't belong here, Felix. This is your world, not mine. I'm just the girl with dead parents and a scholarship, struggling to figure out how or if I'll ever be financially stable enough to live on my own once the school kicks me out."

"What did Farleigh say to you?"

"It wasn't Farleigh!" she snapped, finally turning to face him. "It was Venetia! She told me that you don't let people stick around for long. That you take in the charity cases and toss them aside when you're bored. And I knew that's what was happening with me, I knew there was no way you could possibly want to be friends with me, but I was also stupid enough to let myself believe that maybe it was all real. That maybe you actually cared and you actually wanted me here!"

She was crying again. She must've looked and sounded insane. She wished she had never accepted Felix's offer to come here. She could only imagine what he would say about her when she left the next day.

"I'm not staying here and waiting to be hurt, Felix," she said. "You may think it's fun to toy with people's emotions, but I don't. Not when I trusted you in telling you about my parents, about my stories, about my sad little poor life."

She had more to say, although she wasn't sure if any of it would've made sense, but Felix cut her off before she could. He took hold of her face and pulled her in for a kiss. It surprised her at first and she pulled away almost immediately. He looked down at her, worried, like he was scared he had just crossed a line. When her brain finally caught up to what was happening, she quickly leaned back in to kiss him again.

Her hands held on to his shirt while one of his still cupped her face and the other started to move down her body. With one quick movement, he had lifted her up onto the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands moved to tangle into his hair. His tongue moved across her bottom lip, silently asking for entrance to her mouth. She realized he was commando under his pajama pants when she felt him pressed against her, the only layer between being her panties as she was once again in the oversized shirt she had worn the night before.

Felix broke away first. She tried to follow him, but he held her back, a playful grin on his face.

"I don't want you to go," he said. "I want you here. Not just for this summer, but every summer from now on. I want you in my dorm room back at school, and eventually in my own place when we finish with school. I want you, (Y/N). You're not some toy to me."

"How long have you felt like this?" she asked.

"Since before I spoke to you in class that first day."

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I kept chickening out. Every girl I've been with has only wanted me for my money, or my looks, or both. No one has ever really cared for me as a person. When you did, it almost intimidated me. I needed to know for sure you'd be here for the long run, so I brought you home to see how you'd react to everything."

"Am I passing the test?"

He chuckled and kissed her again. "With flying colors."

She couldn't get enough of him; of his lips, his smile, his body against hers, his hands on her. She wanted all of him all the time. She suddenly never wanted to leave either of their rooms for the rest of the summer.

"You can still go back to school if you feel uncomfortable here. I wouldn't blame you there," he said. "But if you're going back, I'm coming with you."

She shook her head. "I couldn't take you away from your family."

"Then stay. I want you to be here, too. I want to be with you."

She grinned cheekily back at him. "If you're going to beg, you should be on your knees at least."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "If that's what you want."

She wanted all of him all the time, but she decided not to say that just yet. She was still a little cautious. She had to make sure Felix meant what he was saying, even if she felt deep down that he was. He needed to prove himself to her before she opened up that much to him.

But for now, she would definitely take the sight of him on his knees, his face between her legs as his hands pushed the shirt up around her hips.