#but if you’re me you will take as many factors as you can think of into consideration

[louisironson]

I feel like the only reason people make Greg half-Jewish is because of his last name tbh

i’m embarrassed bc i didn’t even think of that….. i’ve headcanoned characters as jewish for less so if that’s your reasoning that’s valid (although a lot of stereotypically jewish last names are also had by german/german-descended gentiles, and hirsch is german, but also tv characters are fake and someone made them up)

however sometimes i get the vibe that people introducing a minority status to greg to make him more sympathetic/less connected to the roy bullshit (on a related note i think it would be super interesting to explore anti-catholic sentiments in the us throughout the 20th century and how they relate to logan’s identity as a Self-Made Man but that’s another post). on one hand giving further reasons for greg to be as othered as he is from the rest of his family is interesting, but on the other hand there are already existing reasons in canon (logan/ewan feud, physical proximity, age difference, etc) and sometimes i just get an icky feeling since greg gets woobified so often by the fandom, especially in favor of shipping him with tom, and the actual canon elements of his character are replaced by fanon that becomes basically original fiction so i feel justified in holding a little bit of skepticism towards jewish greg as a jew myself

so one side of me is saying i’m right and i’m smart and cool but if you think greg’s jewish and you want me to go fuck myself. cool ig you go do that

[pucksandpower]

Changing Lanes

Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc always thought he would spend the rest of his career racing in red. But you make him see that he deserves better than false promises and unrequited love

“Took you long enough,” you say, lounging casually on the small leather couch in Charles’ driver’s room, your fingertips tracing intricate patterns on the cushion beside you.

Charles raises an eyebrow, letting out a dry laugh as he kicks off his shoes. “Every single time I see you, Y/N, you always have something to say.”

You linger on him. “Is it my fault you had to chat with the entire paddock before coming here?”

He smirks, crossing the room. “It’s called being polite. Something you could learn from.”

“Polite?” You scoff, feigning innocence. “Oh, like how Ferrari celebrated that P3 like it was a win? That kind of polite?”

Charles stiffens but he keeps his cool. “We take what we can get.”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing. “Starting on pole and settling for P3? Charles, you deserve better.”

“I know,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze. “But this is racing. Sometimes it just doesn’t go your way.”

You lean in closer, your voice dropping an octave. “It could, though. If you were with a team that actually valued you, that gave you a car worthy of your talent.”

He looks up, meeting your gaze with a challenge. “You mean Red Bull?”

A coy smile plays on your lips. “It’s not a secret that Dad wants you. And imagine … you, in a competitive car, and me, right by your side as your race engineer.”

Charles’ eyes dart to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Tempting,” he murmurs, leaning in just a fraction closer. “But is this for the team or for you?”

“Can’t it be both?” You whisper back.

His breath hitches and he pulls back slightly. “This isn’t just about racing, is it?”

You hesitate. “I see how they treat you. How they let you down time and time again. But with us ... with me ... it would be different.”

He looks conflicted. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” You press. “With Red Bull, you’d have support, a competitive car, and … me.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about what happens on track. It’s about the politics, the contracts, the media ... it’s all complicated.”

“You make it sound like an impossible puzzle,” you say, tracing circles on his wrist. You gaze locks with his, trying to convey everything you feel.

“It might be.”

You lean in, lips just inches from his. “Then let’s solve it together.”

He hesitates, searching your eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.”

You smirk, confidence oozing from every pore. “Isn’t that what racing’s all about?”

Charles chuckles softly, the tension in the room slowly melting away. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“It’s the Horner in me,” you retort with a smug smile. “Besides, aren’t you tired of being just another pawn in Ferrari’s game?”

“It’s not easy. To just switch teams, to give up on something you’ve worked for your entire life.”

You reach up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Who says you’re giving up? You’d be making a choice. A choice to be somewhere you’re valued. Somewhere you have a real shot at the championship. With people who truly care about you and actions that reflect that.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just about the racing. There are so many other factors.”

“Like what?”

He opens his eyes, meeting yours. “Like us.”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“If I come to Red Bull … if I work with you … it changes everything. Our relationship. Our dynamic. Everything.”

You take a moment, absorbing his words. “We can handle it. We’re strong enough.”

He gives you a sad smile. “I wish I had your confidence.”

You cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. “You have me. Together, we can face anything.”

Charles looks at you for a long moment, his emotions raw and exposed. Finally, he speaks. “I’ll think about it. But whatever I decide … know that it’s not just about racing. I refuse to give you up.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “Never settle for less than you deserve.”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “Same goes for you, Y/N Horner.”

***

“I still can’t believe they forgot to remove the radiator blank,” you murmur, your fingers softly tracing patterns on Charles’ bare chest as he lies next to you in his São Paulo hotel. The dim light from the bedside lamp paints soft shadows on his face, emphasizing the frustration in his eyes.

Charles sighs heavily, turning his head to look at you. “Neither can I. Another race, another issue. I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore.”

You lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t deserve this, Charles. You’re better than this. Better than them.”

He chuckles humorlessly, eyes closing. “It seems like it’s one thing after another.”

“Come to Red Bull,” you whisper, fingertips dancing down his arm. “You know it’s the right move.”

He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours. “Y/N, we talked about this.”

You press a gentle kiss on his jaw, speaking against his skin. “Hear me out. If McLaren overtakes Ferrari in the Constructors’ standings, you can activate your exit clause. You could leave them, Charles.”

Charles swallows hard, feeling the warmth of your breath on his neck. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we’ll buy you out,” you say confidently, trailing kisses down his collarbone. “Dad’s already spoken about it. We want you. I want you.”

Charles’ breath catches as your hands explore his torso but he tries to focus. “Equal status with Max?”

“Of course,” you assure him, pressing your body flush against his. “You and Max, racing side by side. Just think of the possibilities.”

He groans, both from your touch and the tempting offer. “A car designed by Adrian Newey ...”

You nod, “With plenty of oversteer, just how you like it. No more one-sided compromises.”

He laughs softly. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

You smirk, lips hovering over his. “Always. And instead of Xavi, you’d hear my voice on the other end of the radio, guiding you, supporting you.”

Charles captures your lips with his, deepening the kiss before pulling back. “You’re making it very hard to think.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper with a playful grin, your hands tugging at his waistband.

He bites his lip, trying to resist your charms. “But Y/N ... it’s not just about the racing. It’s ... it’s us. What happens to us?”

You cup his cheek, gazing deep into his eyes. “We fight together, we win together. Every podium, every championship, we celebrate together.”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You make it sound so perfect.”

“It can be,” you promise, pressing soft kisses on his eyelids. “With Red Bull, you’d have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And me.”

Charles smiles, caressing your cheek. “You’re very persuasive, you know?”

You grin. “It’s one of my many talents.”

He chuckles, capturing your lips once more. “I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll still be by your side.”

He smiles, pulling you closer. “I know. And that’s what makes this decision so hard.”

***

“Absolutely unbelievable,” your father mutters, watching the replay of Ferrari’s disastrous double stack. “You would think they’ve never done a pit stop before.”

You nod, equally shocked. But your attention shifts as the familiar figure of your favorite Monegasque storms into the Red Bull garage, his helmet still on and visor obscuring his face. You can feel the fury emanating from him.

“Charles?” You question hesitantly.

He doesn’t respond to you but instead turns to your father, “Christian, can we talk? Now. Somewhere private.”

Christian looks taken aback by the intensity in Charles’ voice but nods. “Of course.”

Charles glances at you. “You too, Y/N. Please.”

You follow, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. Once inside the small office, Charles finally removes his helmet, revealing eyes red from restrained tears. He takes a moment, collecting himself before he speaks.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Charles exhales. “Every single time I think they’ve hit rock bottom, they find a new low. Today was the last straw.”

You approach him, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Charles, I’m so sorry.”

Your father is equally sympathetic. “That was hard to watch. I can’t even imagine what it felt like.”

Charles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just today. It’s everything. I gave them everything. I wanted to win with them. For my father. For Jules.”

You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “They would be so incredibly proud of you. No matter what.”

He blinks back tears, voice strained. “I wanted to drive that red car to the top for them. But I can’t keep sacrificing myself for a team that clearly does not value me in return.”

Your father speaks up, “Charles, if you’re thinking of a change ... Red Bull is ready to welcome you with open arms.”

Charles looks up, locking eyes with him. “I know. And as much as Ferrari has been my dream, my home, I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with a team that values me. I want to join Red Bull.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration but the look in his eyes tells you that he’s made up his mind. “Charles,” you whisper, stepping closer. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “But this is where my heart is telling me to go.”

Your father gives the two of you a moment, leaving the office to give you privacy.

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you close. “I never imagined leaving Ferrari. But after everything, I know it’s the right decision.”

You wrap your arms around him, resting your forehead against his. “They will be so proud of you, Charles. No matter what colors you wear or what car you drive.”

He smiles weakly. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”

You pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “This is a big step. I don’t want you to regret anything. Are you still sure?”

He nods, determination in his gaze. “More than I’ve ever been.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then welcome to Red Bull.”

***

“I have to tell Ferrari,” Charles straightens, determination evident in his eyes. “I just need to get it over with. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.“

Charles grabs your hand, pulling you towards his driver’s room. “Wait here,” he says, going in and returning moments later with his Ferrari jacket. He places it over your Red Bull team polo, attempting to keep your allegiance concealed for now. You both then proceed to the debrief room where the Ferrari team is waiting.

Fred Vasseur begins his speech the moment you both enter, “This wasn’t how we wanted to end the year but looking ahead to next season—”

Charles cuts him off, “Actually, there won’t be a next season. Not for me.”

The room falls into a tense silence, all eyes on the driver who has given them his heart and soul.

“What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath, “I’ve decided to leave Ferrari.”

Gasps fill the room. Fred’s eyes land on you, finally noticing the Red Bull logo peeking out from under the jacket you’re borrowing. “And you bring her, of all people, here to tell us this?”

Charles squares his shoulders. “Y/N is here because I asked her to be. This decision is mine and mine alone.”

Xavi stands up, “After everything we’ve done for you! This is how you repay us?”

You can’t hold back any longer. “Everything you’ve done? You mean the countless strategy mistakes, the endless car issues, the complete lack of support?”

Another team member cuts in, “This is not your place, Y/N!”

“It is today,” you retort. “I’m here to support my new driver.”

Charles’ voice shakes but he speaks with conviction, “I gave everything for this team. I bled Ferrari red. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when it’s clear that my effort and commitment is not matched in return.”

Fred’s voice softens. “Charles, we’ve had our challenges but we can overcome them together.”

Charles shakes his head, tears threatening to spill. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m joining Red Bull. My manager will send over the necessary legal paperwork as soon as possible.”

The room is filled with murmurs, disbelief evident on every face. Charles takes one last look around, his eyes filled with pain, and turns to leave.

You follow closely, feeling the weight of every step as you exit the debrief room.

The second you’re around the corner, Charles breaks down. He rests his forehead against the wall, tears rolling down his face silently. “I didn’t ... I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

You pull him close and try to find the right words. “It was never going to be easy. But you did what you had to. For yourself. For your future.”

He turns to look at you, eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I just wanted to make them proud.”

You cup his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb. “They would be proud of you. Not for the badge you wear or the car you drive but for the man you’ve become.”

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you stand there for a moment, finding solace in each other’s presence.

When he finally pulls away, he manages a weak smile. “Thank you. For standing by me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

***

***

***

Charles stands in front of the massive two-story trophy wall at the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes, eyes wide with wonder. “Ferrari would never do something so ... gaudy.”

You smirk, sidling up next to him. “And yet, you love it.”

“I do,” he laughs. “It’s … different.”

You lean in, whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Ferrari hasn’t had all that much to exhibit in the last two decades. Not for lack of trying from the drivers, of course.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Cheeky.”

The two of you walk further into the factory. “So,” Charles draws out, “I was wondering if you could recommend a good real estate agent in the area.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would you need an agent when I have a perfectly good apartment we can share?”

“Really? Are you sure? I just … I wasn’t sure if you would want that and I don’t want to pressure you.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course I do, Charles. It’s not even a question.”

He smiles, the weight of the decision to move seeming a little lighter now. “Thank you.”

You wink, taking his hand. “Come on, let me show you around.”

As you guide him through the factory, he’s like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. “This place is incredible,” he murmurs, running a hand along a piece of machinery.

You grin, pulling him towards the simulator room. “Wait until you see this.”

He steps inside, eyes immediately drawn to the impressive simulator setup. “Wow.”

You gesture for him to sit down, watching as he takes a seat, adjusting the settings. “Ready for your first sim run in the RB20?”

He nods eagerly, “Let’s do it.”

As he starts the simulation, you watch closely, monitoring the data and providing feedback. The two of you work seamlessly together, the connection between race engineer and driver already forming and growing.

After several runs, Charles steps out of the simulator, a huge grin on his face. “That was incredible! The car feels amazing.”

You smile. “I’m glad you think so. The team has put a lot of work into it.”

He pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. “I can’t wait to get on track with you on the other side of the radio.”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. “Me too. We’re going to do great things together. I know it.”

He nods. “I know we will too.”

***

“I have to admit,” Charles says, eyes scanning the paddock, “I’m thankful that Mercedes and McLaren are between our motorhome and Ferrari’s. Makes things less ... awkward.”

You glance towards the distant red of the mobile Ferrari building, understanding the sentiment. “Must be weird being so close and yet so far.”

He nods, a hint of melancholy in his gaze as he looks at the place he called home for so long. “It’s bittersweet.”

Pulling him from his thoughts, you nudge him playfully. “Come on, Mr. Pole-Sitter. We have a race to prep for.”

Charles smirks, playfully rolling his eyes. “Always so professional, Miss Horner.”

You grin. “Only when it counts.”

The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage is electric. Mechanics and engineers hustle around, getting everything ready. The RB20 sits gleaming, waiting for its moment to shine.

Charles adjusts his gloves, taking a deep breath. “Feels different,” he admits, looking at you. “Being here, in this car, with this team. But a good kind of different.”

You lean in, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this. It’s just another race.”

He smiles. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the hot seat.”

“True, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just listen to my voice and trust me.”

“I always do.”

As he gets into the car, you lean in closer to his helmet, your lips touching it’s hard shell. “And Charles? Stay safe out there.”

He looks at you and winks. “I’ll come back to you.”

The race begins with a burst of energy. Charles takes off from pole, holding his position as the field jockeys for placement behind him.

“Good start,” you say through the radio, your voice calm and composed. “Keep it steady.”

“Copy.”

The race is intense, with Charles and Max battling for the lead, their cars dancing on the edge of perfection. The radio chatter between the two of you flows naturally, filled with technical details, strategy adjustments, and the occasional personal quip.

“Feeling the heat from Max?” You tease after a particularly close call between the two Red Bulls.

Charles laughs breathlessly. “Just keeping things interesting for the fans.”

The race continues at a blistering pace, with Charles and Max pushing each other to the limit. But through it all, Charles remains in the lead, with you guiding him from the pit wall.

“Final lap,” you inform. “Bring it home.”

He nods, pushing the car to its limit. The cheers of the crowd grow louder as he crosses the finish line, securing his first victory with Red Bull.

“Amazing job, Charles! I knew you could do it!”

He lets out a whoop of joy. “Yes! Thank you, team. Thank you, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without you all.”

The two of you celebrate the victory, and as the rose water sprays and the cheers of the crowd fill the air, you know that this is just the beginning of an incredible journey together.

***

“You’re sure about the medium tyres, Y/N?” Charles asks nervously as he looks at the other cars lining up. “Everyone else is starting on softs.”

You nod confidently, tapping the race strategy on your clipboard. “Yes. The upside of using the mediums is it gives us flexibility. We can extend our first stint if needed, especially with possible rain on the forecast. While everyone else has to pit early for hards and then again for inters when the rain starts, we’ll only have to pit once. Trust me.”

He inhales deeply, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside. “I do trust you. It’s just ... Ferrari ... the strategies there ...”

“I know,” you interrupt softly, understanding the trauma and distrust years with Ferrari had instilled in him. “But this isn’t Ferrari. It’s Red Bull and we work differently. I’ve got your back.”

“Alright,” he looks into your eyes, finding assurance and conviction there, “let’s do this.”

The race begins, and Charles holds his ground well on the medium tyres, though the drivers running softs initially show quicker pace. But as predicted, the clouds soon darken and the threat of rain becomes increasingly evident.

“Stay focused,” you guide through the radio. “Remember the plan.”

He pushes on, expertly handling the streets of Monaco. The cars around him begin to lose grip and one by one they dive into the pits for hard tyres.

Charles keeps lapping. He moves up the order.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage. “Stick to the plan. We’re right on schedule.”

However, as the first raindrops begin to fall, panic sets in among the other teams on the grid. Those who just pitted for hard tyres are forced to pit again for intermediate tyres, losing precious time.

“Now,” you command, “Box this lap.”

He follows your instruction, driving into the pits, and with a flawless stop by his Red Bull crew, re-emerges in the lead.

The rain continues but Charles navigates the treacherous streets of Monaco expertly, maintaining his lead. When the chequered flag waves, it’s Charles who crosses the line first and finally claims victory at his home Grand Prix.

Tears of joy and relief pour from Charles’ eyes as he takes in the moment. “Thank you,” he says over the radio, voice choked with emotion. “I can’t believe it. We did it in Monaco!”

You smile, tears in your own eyes. “We did. I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”

He laughs, the sound full of pure joy. “You did. And I’m so glad I did. Thank you for everything.”

As he steps out of the car and jumps on its nose, arms spread wide, the crowd roars in approval, their prince finally crowned in his home race.

Then he rushes to the barriers and jumps into the cheering crowd of dark blue waiting for him. When his sweaty lips find yours surrounded by the celebrating Red Bull team, you take a moment to whisper a promise, “This is just the beginning. It will only get better from here.”

***

The season flies by in a blur of champagne showers. Heading into the Italian Grand Prix, Charles find himself leading the Drivers’ Championship with Max nipping at his heels.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Charles confesses, staring out at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. “This was home. I don’t know how they will react now that I’m no longer wearing red.”

You rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Many fans support the driver, not just the color he wears.”

He takes a deep breath and looks over the crowd. “The Tifosi are different. They bleed Ferrari red. I’m afraid they will see me only as a traitor.”

“You gave them your all,” you counter. “They’ve seen the struggles. They know why you left. They understand. Trust in them and in yourself.”

As the two of you make your way towards the paddock, the familiar chorus of cheers fills the air. But instead of the jeers and boos he feared, a chant begins to rise among the crowd of red: “Charles! Charles! Charles!”

Charles stops in his tracks. “They’re ... they’re cheering for me.”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “Told you.”

He’s soon swarmed by a group of fans, all clamoring for autographs, photos, and just a moment of his time. It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi remains unbroken.

An older fan steps forward, his Ferrari cap worn with age. “You are still Il Predestinato. We wish it ended differently but we have eyes. We watched the races. We know why you left. No matter what team you drive for, you always have our hearts.”

Charles blinks back tears, deeply touched. “Grazie,” he whispers and claps the fan’s weathered hands in thanks.

Another fan, a young girl with a homemade sign that reads Once a Tifosi, Always a Tifosi, shyly approaches. “We still love you, Charles,” she says.

He kneels down to give her a gentle hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs, taking off his Red Bull cap and placing it on her head.

As the day goes on, the support from the Tifosi only grows. They cheer for him during practice, during qualifying, and every time he appears in front of the stands.

It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi is as strong as ever.

That evening, as the two of you sit in the garage looking over data, Charles reflects on his day. “I was so afraid,” he admits. “Afraid of being rejected, of losing their love. But today ... today was incredible.”

You close the analytics. “The Tifosi love you. Not because of the car you drive or the colors you wear but because of who you are. Just like I do.”

He nods slowly. “It’s overwhelming. Monza has always been special to me. To feel this level of love and support ... it’s more than I ever expected.”

You lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “They see your passion. They see how much you give on and off the track. Anyone who does not love and respect you for that needs to reconsider.”

He exhales slowly, “I just ... I wanted to make them proud, to win for them in red and bring glory back to Maranello. But knowing they still support me no matter what ... it means everything.”

You look up into his eyes. “And they always will. Because they know you always gave and will continue to give your best. They love you because they are loved in return.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “For always being my rock, especially in moments like these.”

“Now let’s go out there tomorrow and win.”

***

“Vegas, baby!” Charles shouts, swinging an arm around your shoulders, both of you holding champagne glasses that have been refilled one too many times.

You giggle, distinctly feeling all of the alcohol you’ve consumed. “We won! We did it!”

Charles laughs, pulling you closer. “We did! And do you know what people do when they’re in love and win in Vegas?”

You think about it for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes. “Get ... married?”

Charles nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! Y/N Horner, will you marry me tonight?”

You don’t hesitate, “Hell yes!”

The two of you, in your drunken stupor, begin your mission to find a wedding chapel. However, before you can get very far, Max spots you and quickly catches on to what you’re planning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Max exclaims, grabbing Charles by the shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going with Y/N?”

Charles replies with a sloppy grin, “To make her Mrs. Leclerc!”

Max bursts into laughter, trying to play the voice of reason. “Mate, as much fun as that sounds, I think you might want to sleep on that idea.”

But you’re not having it. “No, Max! We’re in love and it’s Vegas. We’re doing it!”

Before the conversation can escalate further, your father joins the fray, looking both amused and concerned. “What on earth is going on here?”

Max chuckles, “Your daughter and Charles here have some ... ambitious plans for the evening.”

You pout and stumble slightly, “Daddy, we want to get married! Right now!”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Married? Tonight? Seriously?”

Charles nods with absolute seriousness, though his precarious swaying contradicts his tone. “Christian, I love your daughter. And we won. In Vegas. So ... wedding?”

Your father places a firm hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Listen, Charles, I have no doubt about your feelings for Y/N. But my baby girl deserves the world. When and if you ever decide to propose, I expect you to get down on one knee, stone-cold sober, and ask her properly.”

Charles blinks, processing the words. “But ... Vegas?”

You laugh and go to hug your father, almost falling over in the process. “He’s right. Let’s just enjoy tonight. And if we still feel like getting married in the morning, we can discuss it then.”

Max smirks, “Trust me, you’ll thank us in the morning. If you can even remember this conversation, that is.”

***

“Charles,” you begin, your voice echoing in his helmet, “The team has made the call. You and Max are free to race. No team orders.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Understood. May the best man win.”

The tension in the garage skyrockets as soon as the lights go out. It’s evident that this is going to be an epic battle from the very first turn. Max and Charles swap places multiple times, pushing their cars to the very edge of their limits.

“Breathe,” you remind him calmly as the laps go by, “Don’t loose sight of the race as a whole. There’s a championship at stake.”

The entire race is a blur of overtakes, pit strategies, and nail-biting moments. The two Red Bull cars battle wheel-to-wheel lap after lap. One side of the garage against the other.

Coming into the final laps, Charles is right on Max’s tail — the championship hanging in the balance between them.

You know there’s not much you can do to guide him anymore … it’s all up to Charles.

“Last lap,” you try to sound composed despite the pounding of your heart. “You can do this.”

The cheers and gasps of the crowd are deafening as Charles makes his move, taking the inside line and overtaking Max on the penultimate turn.

“Push now! Just a few more corners.”

As Charles crosses the finish line, the enormity of the moment crashes over both of you.

“Charles Leclerc,” you scream over the radio as tears stream down your face, “you are the World Champion!”

“Yeeeesssss! Yes! Yes! I ... I can’t believe it. This is ... thank you, everyone. To the entire Red Bull team, you’ve given me the chance to chase and achieve my dreams. To my friends, my family, to every single person who’s been by my side, believed in me, and supported me … thank you. And Y/N, you’ve been my rock and my oxygen. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you! Thank you. Thank you so much!”

***

“Whew! That was a lot of rose water!” Charles laughs, wiping the bubbly liquid from his eyes.

You chuckle and try to wring out your hair. “You didn’t have to drench me, you know!”

Charles grins cheekily. “It’s a special occasion, after all. Both of us on this podium? It’s a dream!”

Then suddenly, he turns serious and signals to his brother in the crowd below, who throws him a small leather box. Charles catches it and promptly lowers himself down on one knee in front of you, making the crowd fall into a stunned silence.

“I tried this in Vegas,” he starts with a laugh, “But I might have been too drunk and missed a few pretty important steps.”

Charles takes a deep breath and his eyes lock onto yours, saying everything that words would never be sufficient to. “Y/N, being on this podium with you, winning the World Championship, it’s the pinnacle of my career. But what we have ... it’s the pinnacle of my life. I can’t imagine going on this journey with anyone else, facing the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. Will you marry me?”

Tears flow steadily down your cheeks and you nod with a fervor that would make bobbleheads jealous, “Yes! There’s no one else I’d want to spend forever with.”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, the deafening roar echoing around the Yas Marina Circuit. Max gives a loud whistle, his face lit up with a big grin next to you on the podium stage.

Charles rises to his feet and pulls you close, attacking your lips as the crowd goes wild.

“Promise me we won’t head to a chapel right after this race?” You joke, sniffling and giggling at the same time.

Charles laughs, looking slightly sheepish. “I promise, mainly because I’m too young to die and your father would definitely kill me if I even thought about pulling the stunt we tried in Vegas again. You deserve a fairytale wedding.”

You press your face against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat as fireworks explode overhead. “All I need for my fairytale is you.”

[csuitebitches]

Fearless Social Confidence: Strategies to Live Without Fear, Speak Without Insecurity, Beat Social Anxiety, and Stop Caring What Others Think - Patrick King book notes

Socially confident people:

expect to be accepted. When they meet strangers, they expect to make a good impression. They never approach situations thinking, “What if they don’t like me?” Instead they think, “I hope I like them.”

evaluate themselves positively. Socially confident people are encouraging, positive, and accepting of themselves. They give themselves leeway not to be perfect and don’t beat themselves up too harshly when they are not.

feel comfortable around superiors. Socially confident people feel comfortable because they don’t feel threatened, or that their flaws and vulnerabilities will be highlighted by the other person’s qualities.

With a lack of social confidence, you are usually choosing the thought that is cruelest to yourself.

when navy SEALs recognize that they are feeling overwhelmed, they regain control by focusing on their breath—breathing in for four seconds, holding for four seconds, and then out for four seconds, and repeating until you can feel your heart rate slow down and normalize.

Core beliefs: 

Steps in a thought diary entry can be arranged in the easy-to-remember A-C-B format—

Activating Event. Note down the event/ situation. This is simply the origin point of your emotional change. It’s whatever caused your emotional status to change from calm to agitation (a memory, a song, etc).

Consequences. In this step you identify the specific emotions and sensations that arose. These could be simple feeling words— “anxious,” “unhappy,” “sickened,” “panicky,” “melancholy,” “confused,” and so forth.

Beliefs. This is where the action begins. How do you link the activating event with the consequences? What unconscious narrative or story about yourself was told to achieve the consequence? (“What was I thinking?”  “What was going through my head when this happened?”  “What’s wrong with that?”“What does this all mean?”  “What does it reveal about me?”)

Now you’ve gotten to the bottom of your situation and figured out what your core beliefs are.

The first step is writing down one of the core beliefs you’ve just uncovered. Ask yourself what experiences you’ve had that prove your core belief wasn’t always true. Generate as many experiences as you can and be very specific about what happened.

Write down the core belief you’re examining.  Think of ways that you can put that belief to the test. These are actual tasks that you can perform.  Then, write down what you expect or predict will happen after conducting these tasks if your core belief was true.  Perform the tasks.  Write down what really happened after you completed your task.  Compare and contrast your predictions with what actually happened. Finally, document what you learned from the task and come up with a new, more reasonable core belief that goes in line with your discoveries.

Bushman’s results imply that sometimes the best course of action after being provoked to anger is to just sit quietly and let it pass.

There’s a direct link between social anxiety and negativity. A 2016 Australian research study showed that “elevated social anxiety vulnerability is characterized only by facilitated attentional engagement with socially negative information.” Obsessing over negative details—including by constantly talking about one’s problems—only reinforces one’s social fears and does nothing to inspire real confidence in a social setting.

Personalization is the mother of guilt. In the cognitive distortion of personalizing, you feel responsible for events that cannot conceivably be your fault. While it is admirable to take responsibility for your actions, there are things completely out of your control: the subway schedule, other people’s actions, and a million day-to-day factors.

Common cues of overgeneralization are “always” and “never.” When starting a sentence or a thought with “always” or “never,” consider whether you have the experience or evidence to back up the statement.

Other people aren't only what they are showing to the world. Most people put on a good show. But do you really know what might be going on in their private life? Take comfort from the fact that while there will be many people who are better at certain things than you are, there are also most certainly things that you will be better at.

If you are self-conscious and worried that people will judge you if you say something stupid or “off,” there's an easy workaround to that. The best approach is simple preparation. Create answers to predictable questions and conversations. Run that mental videotape in your mind about your past 10, 20, or 30 social conversations. I guarantee they are not all that different from each other.

Figure out the general questions that people will ask and the topics that will come up in normal conversation and be prepared with story-answers. For example, How was your weekend? What are you doing this weekend? How was your day? What do you do for work?

How can we ease ourselves into social confidence little by little? 

List the social situations you avoid. Ask yourself what kinds of gatherings or circumstances you steer clear of and write them all down in a list. Your list should include both physical situations—parties, family gatherings, work presentations, and so forth—and personal experiences that you don’t want to face.

Give each situation a SUDS level from 0 to 100.

Plan your goals.

Build your goal stepladder. You’ve planned a goal and have decided to start work. Remember, situational exposure is a bit-by-bit process.

[dellalyra]

ʀᴏꜱʏ ᴘɪɴᴋ - ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

pixie says: another request from my wife @soraya-daydreams coming thru with an absolute banger. family formations or can be standalone <3

“Y/N!” Came a scream from down the hall.

You were almost asleep, bed so comfortable and sheets so soft until your door flung open and three bodies stood in the entrance before barging in.

“Shoko stop bullying Satoru.” You reflexively reply.

“Y/N! Thank god you’re here! A voice of reason! These two,” Satoru says, pointing to Geto and Shoko beside him “are trying to get me to dye my hair!”

You just look between the three of them. Geto is on your desk chair, fiddling with your pencils. Shoko is perched on the desk beside him and Satoru has flung himself face down on the foot of your bed.

“Okay, and… you don’t want to?” You ask.

“Why? Do you think I should?” Satoru asks, and you wonder why Geto and Shoko snicker.

“It’s your hair, Satoru! If you wanted to you could do a temporary dye in like - a really fun colour. Like the pink in the ends of my hair!” You wave your strands at him.

“See! I told you she would like the idea! C’mon Gojo, let us dye your hair.” Shoko pleads.

“You won’t even need’ta bleach it or anything, man.” Geto chimes in.

“But guys! My white hair is like - my thing!” Gojo is flailing his arms.

“I thought your eyes were your thing?” Geto questions.

“I have many things!” The muffled voice replies.

“Y/N, what do you think?” Geto prompts.

“Why am I the deciding factor?”

“Because Satoru would jump into a burning building if you asked him to.” Shoko adds, blunt as ever.

You blush and hear a weak attempt at a protest from the end of your bed.

You’ve no idea where your friends got this idea that Satoru is interested in you the way your are him but they seemingly won’t let it go.

“I think it would be fun - but Satoru chooses the colour. Is that okay, Satoru?” You poke him.

“Okay.” He says, lifting his head from your comforter.

“Cool! Shoes on then. Let’s go.” You say, swinging your legs out of bed.

“Where on earth can we get hair dye at 10pm?”

So that’s how you ended up at a 24 hour store checkout at 10.30pm with your three best friends. After much deliberation, a temporary box dye was found that would last about 6 washes and wouldn’t stain. Satoru was being uncharacteristically sheepish about the colour he chose, keeping the box close to his chest, until he dropped it and you picked it up to see the top of the box was a soft, rosy pink.

Your favourite colour.

You handed it to him, blushing as he looks straight at you.

“It’s gonna look really nice on you, ‘toru.” You say, smiling softly.

The two behind you gag at the sweet exchange.

At 11pm, Satoru was sitting on your desk chair - towel on his shoulders as you and Geto worked the pink through his white hair - Shoko (the instigator) sitting on your bed.

“Okay! Koko, set a timer for 10 minutes.” You say, pulling the gloves off your hands.

“What happens in 10 minutes?” Satoru asks.

“We wash your hair!”

“Wait?! You need to shower with me?! At least buy a guy a drink first, Princess.” He smirks at you and you roll your eyes.

“No, you incorrigible man. Just your hair. Plus, you don’t drink.”

Finding a way to wash his hair was a logistical nightmare since everyone insisted on being in the room but Satoru’s long limbs were difficult to contain - but eventually, the shower head was rinsing pink streams down the drain and his head was free of dye. You wrapped a towel over his head and told him to go style it how he normally would.

He proceeds to shake his head and say “I just let it dry?”.

Which sickens you.

He’s just that perfect, that beautiful - naturally?

What an asshole.

He turns to take the towel off and looks at you three and you melt inside.

His blue eyes shine in excitement as your face turns the colour of his now rosy pink hair.

Seeing him decked out in your favourite colour? Did all kinds of things to you - though it would never compare to his natural, snowflake coloured hair that visits your dreams each night. That will always be your favourite, because it’s a sign of your ‘Toru.

“Look at this marshmallow man!” Shoko says, jumping to try and ruffle his hair.

“Marshmallow?!” Satoru says, spinning to the mirror.

“Bro - that actually looks really good. I like it. Turned out real nice. What do you think, lil’ lady?” Suguru says, turning to you.

“I love it.” You say, hands clasped under your chin.

You didn’t just mean the hair.

[xxsabitoxx]

Fushiguro Megumi hates clubs.

Quite literally nothing about the club scene is inviting to Megumi. Too many people crowded into a too-small space, too dark, too many lights, odd smells, constantly being bumped into, music blaring way too loud… the list goes on and on.

But there’s you. Someone who lives for going out to a club maybe once a month just to let loose… and he’ll be damned if he lets you leave the house alone in that way too short dress. So he sucks up his dislike for clubbing and accompanies you.

Every. Single. Time.

He usually stays off to the side, sitting in a booth or leaning against a wall. Somewhere his eyes can follow you regardless of where you wander too. You’re usually accompanied with friends, whether it be your old jujutsu tech classmates or some friends you made after graduation when you attended uni.

But tonight was different. You had nobody with you. “You still want to go even though nobody else can?” Megumi had questioned you earlier that day, a bit perplexed when you nodded enthusiastically. “I’m not going alone, Meg. You’re coming with me, remember?”

Yeah… he remembered alright.

Remembered so much that he had let you convince him to drink. Now, three shots and two mixed drinks later, he’s crammed into the packed dance floor with your back pressed flush to his front. It’s dizzying, the music vibrating the dance floor, the alcohol seeping through his veins, your body on his.

He can't think straight, his face feels like it's on fire and the rest of his body is not faring any better. Your hips guide him, swaying dangerously to the beat of the music as you lean into him. Megumi's grip on your hips is as strong as steel, skin feeling clammy from an accumulation of factors but he couldn't care less.

He lets you take the lead, since you're far more accustomed to this than he is. He lets you spin, your pupils dilated as your fronts are now pressing together as you beam up at him. He can see your lips moving but he can't hear a damn thing you're saying.

Your bodies are still moving in time to the music, your arms snaking up to wrap around his neck as you guide him.

Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's how close your bodies are, or maybe it's the girl who accidentally bumps into your back and pushes you impossibly closer to Megumi. It doesn't matter though, because the next thing he knows, his lips are crushed to yours.

It's suffocating, he's pulling away with flushed cheeks as you gasp for air. That doesn't last long either, your hands pulling him back down to you in a series of feverish, needy kisses.

Fushiguro Megumi hates clubs... but you've changed his mind

*Alexa play Heavy Metal Lover by Lady Gaga” Hehehe Megumi makes the brain go brrr >:3

Banner from @/cafekitsune

[thedevilspearl]

are they a dom or a sub — brothers & dateables

a/n: i’ve seen dom/sub headcanons floating around since the dawn of time and now it’s my turn. these are my headcanons (spoiler alert: most of them are switches) and i want you to know that it’s okay to have differing opinions, and i’m 100% down to discuss your versions with you, just be nice about it loll this is all just for fun <3

tags: all brothers + dateables, no explicit smut but consistent discussion of dom/sub dynamics so minors do not interact!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑  ➛  switch but dom–leaning. as a sub, he is so good and soft. it’s a way for him to accept and nurture his vulnerability with someone he trusts. but as a heavily dominant person, he takes on the dominant role most of the time — though, there are many times he prefers no dynamics of the sort and to just have sex as him and you. but going back to his dom side, he can range from hard to soft and it depends on many factors: his mood, your mood, the time of day, how much energy he has, if you two are alone etc. he does either really well, but he prefers to be a soft dom because he craves soft loving and intimacy over rough and lustful sex. but i will mention, as a hard dom, he loves a challenge so do him a favour and be as bratty as you can be.

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍  ➛  he is exactly in the middle as a switch. he’s neither dom nor sub–leaning, but perfectly balanced. and similar to lucifer, it all depends on his mood and the atmosphere. as a sub, he’s quite bratty. very moany and loves to feel pain (though, not too much). he has his softer subby moments, but he’s mostly a bratty sub and loves to be tamed (and punished). but as a dom, he would mostly act as a soft dom, or somewhere in between soft and hard, never going into full hard dom mode. don’t get me wrong, he loves rough and nasty sex but he can do all that without being a hard dom. he’s also massively into dirty talk and teasing, so even when he’s a soft dom, you’ll get glimpses of his harder, meaner, dirtier side even if it never comes into full fruition.

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍  ➛  we’re all convinced levi is sub–leaning, even he is. but i believe his dynamic can change greatly. he starts as a sub because he feels more comfortable with someone else taking the lead while he’s learning what he likes and dislikes, and also what you like and dislike. but his subby–ness can get repetitive and unexciting really quickly. he may be a brat sometimes and would prefer punishments like orgasm denial or no touching over pain–inflicting punishments. but most of the time as a sub, he is so good and sweet, obeying every order like a zealous golden puppy who worships you. later on, he explores his dominant side and he is fully committed to being a soft dom. sex with dom levi is like having sex with your best friend; he’s always praising you and asking if you’re doing okay. he can still be rough (and mean, if you ask for it), but that only makes him eager to be more affectionate.

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍  ➛  is a switch but let’s talk about his dom side since we all love to think about rough, mean dom satan. he can be a soft dom and i do headcanon him as one, but he is better suited in the role of a hard dom, particularly when he needs to release his pent up frustration. he needs someone who can take all of his rough, mean energy whilst also accepting his genuinely caring and affectionate side. what i mean to say is, during sex, you would mostly see hard dom satan, but afterwards, it’s nothing but soft and loving dom satan to take care of you. as a sub, he also also better suited as a hard sub. he wants you to test his limits. make him cry. make him scream. make him beg for more and make him beg you to stop. he wants you to treat him in a way no one else would dare to treat him and he very reluctantly wants to be put in place.

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒  ➛  hard dom and hard sub for asmo are a no–no. the hardest he will go is calling you mean names (but they’re somehow always mixed in with praise), maybe spanking and a little bit of hair pulling. oh, and he does love to see you cry. rough sex is fine but with the way he speaks to you so softly and teasingly, it can hardly be considered rough, even when you’re brought to tears. if you want to see dom asmo, be prepared for him to always be a soft dom. as a sub, he may lean towards some harder things, but again, no matter how kinky or experimental sex with asmo is, he has his charming ways and it will turn out soft in the end. he’s kinky but he’s soft mostly all the way. and i would say he is more dom–leaning as a switch. sex is his expertise (sexpertise?) so he prefers to guide the way in the bedroom.

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁  ➛  dom/sub dynamics aren’t that important to beel but when it does play a part in sex, he is most naturally dom–leaning. sub beel has never crossed my mind and it probably never will. even if you are in control, he just can’t find himself in a sub mindset. but if it were the other way around, he could potentially slip into a dom mindset. beel is the demon most in touch with his animalistic nature, and that’s why it’s easier for him to be a dom. i would not categorise him as either hard or soft but rather just someone who likes to be in control sometimes. he can give you a good, hard fucking, but that doesn’t mean he’s a hard dom. he can also be a lot more gentle, and that doesn’t mean he’s a soft dom either. it’s hard to label him specifically, so i’ll leave beel as dom–leaning.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑  ➛  belphie as a sub is a dream. he is so whiny and bratty, just imagine how he moans....i just know he makes himself sound especially pathetic when he’s in his subby persona. he likes being slapped, he likes being brought to tears. but he’s a switch and as a dom, he loves to do those exact same things to you. he can be quite confusing as a dom because he is soft and slow in his movements, very rarely fucking you fast and hard. but it’s in his words and sadistic behaviour where his hard dom shines. so physically, he’s a soft dom. but mentally, he’s all up in his hard dom space. he’s also the type of dom that will demand sex whenever and wherever he needs it which definitely boosts his hard dom side. he’s so mean with his words but he’s caressing your face and wiping your tears at the same time. dom belphie to you is exactly how he wants you to be with him when he’s a sub.

𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐎  ➛  the demon lord is probably the biggest (or second biggest after mammon) switch in the entirety of obey me. he is a flip–flop in the making. he can bounce from one end of the spectrum to the other in an instant. his dom/sub dynamic is literally so dynamic that it gives you whiplash. with most switches, if they begin the session as a sub, they will most likely finish as a sub. but dia can switch during sex, going from dom to sub or vice versa. maybe even switching three or four times, depending on how long you go at it with him. he can go from hard to soft and soft to hard. he knows how to read the room, how to read you and because his mood is so changeable, you need to be able to read him too. sex with dia requires a whole lot of understanding and chemistry. if you don’t have it, the sex can be too confusing that it becomes unenjoyable. but if you do have it, then it will be the best sex you’ll ever have.

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒  ➛  he is another one that i rarely see as a sub, if at all. i don’t think barbatos has any strong sexual preferences or kinks in general. and while they do exist, sex just isn’t a huge ordeal to him. but during those times when he is excited to experiment with sex, he would be a dom. he can be a soft dom but i don’t think he’d be particularly good at it, mediocre at best. he would excel more as a hard dom. he’s the type of person who will have a dark and rough sexual side, but is wholly soft and affectionate outside of the bedroom. he’s a dom but if you wanted to be the dom, he wouldn’t mind acting as a sub — just know he wouldn’t enjoy is as much. but, he also wouldn’t mind having to compete with another dom until one of you submits; that would be fun.  

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍  ➛  now this angel can confuse you at first but first impressions are always deceiving. dom/sub dynamics are not heavily implemented into his simeon’s sexual preferences but i must say, when they do come out, it is absolutely stellar. simeon is a dom, a soft dom most of the time but every now and then, he’ll show himself as a hard dom. it’s very rare but it’s the kind of thing that lingers in your brain for weeks after it happens. even if you beg him to give you that mean and nasty sex, he won’t do it unless he decides to, or when he feels the need to. but as a predominantly soft dom, he is sweet and caring, a little bit of a tease (read: a lot) who loves to test your limits but in a gentle way. he can be subby at times, but he prefers to guide the sex as a soft, gentle dom or have sex with no dom/sub dynamics over being the sub.

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐍  ➛  i think he’s lived long enough to have a very aged libido. it’s hard for him to be excited about sex until you come along and it’s just like having sex for the first time. he’s discovering his sexual preferences, old and new, with you and he is steadily paced with his experimentation. i want to say he’s a switch but i also believe he doesn’t enjoy being a sub much. so he would definitely try being a sub, but will learn that he is more suited to the dominant role. he’s spent so long being powerful and almost uncontrollable, so being out of control upsets his personality. as a dom, he is quite balanced and i think he mostly relies on your preferences and moods. he finds it hard to decide for himself so if you want it hard, he’ll give it to you hard. and if you want it soft, he’ll give you all the love in the world.

[lady-of-tearshed]

Solace

Eris Vanserra x Reader

(Unedited yet! Posted it by accident 😑 I didn't even realized it until @daycourtofficial reposted 🤣 I was so confused lol)

Summary: Eris comes back from a meeting exhausted. He is overwhelmed with his new role as a High Lord lately, and his mate decides to take special care of him.

Eris sighed as he came back to your shared chambers later than anticipated from an awfully boring meeting. He had still tons of work to be done with, new courtiers to hire, troops reorganization, and court finances issues to fix and analyze in more depth. He was supposed to hand back a report about analyzing these financial issues this afternoon actually, but he didn’t even have time to finish writing it. Surprisingly, his courtiers had decided to be kind enough not to bring up his missing report in his meeting this afternoon.

His ears perk up when he hears the bathtub water running from the bathroom. He quietly walks his way there, and spots you pouring bubble bath and salts into the tub. He spots two sets of matching pajamas perfectly folded on the bathroom countertop. You were running him a bath… His heart swells with guilt, feeling ashamed of being absent recently. And yet there you were… still taking care of him.

Pangs of guilt flow through the bond, you look over your shoulder to see your mate staring at you, his brows frowned in concern “I’m unworthy of you…”. His Adam's apple bobs as he tries to swallow the tick knot in his throat. 

You walk over to Eris and wrap your arms around his neck, his instinctively resting on your hips. You stare into his eyes with determination and pure honesty shining into them and say “I am to judge whether or not someone is worthy of me, and you, Eris Vanserra, I can confidently say that you are.”. 

He opens his mouth and shakes his head to complain, but you cut him off with a sweet kiss on his lips “Don’t go down that path, please.” He sighs but kisses you back gently on your forehead, breathing in your comforting scent. “Okay…”

You smile and slowly pull back to stop the faucet before the bath overflows on the tiles. Eris can’t help but stare at your curves as you undress and sink into the bath first, a content sigh falls from your lips as the warm water makes your whole body melt in delight.

“Why are you still standing there?” You tease as you look over at Eris, frozen in his contemplation. His hands were still gripping the edge of his shirt he had wanted to take off before getting distracted. He shakes his head and chuckles at his own thoughts, thinking about how his wife could take his attention away by doing literally anything. He undresses and settles himself in the bath between your legs, his back pressed against your chest. You run your wet fingers through his hair and he groans in pleasure, leaning his head back onto your shoulder. You smile and kiss the side of his face.

It has been a while since you had any kind of intimacy with Eris, he had been spending a lot of time fixing the mistakes and changing the ways of Beron’s past reign in the past few weeks. You had caught him falling asleep in his study a few times recently, he looked so drained that every time you found him asleep on his desk, you felt too bad to wake him up to selfishly have him beside you in bed. So every time, you only had placed a pillow under his head, wrapped a sheet around his shoulders, and kissed his head goodnight silently. 

When you snap out of your thoughts, you turn your head and notice that Eris’s eyes are now shut, his lips slightly parted, all of his features relaxed and his head feels heavier onto your shoulder… “You’re not falling asleep on me… are you?” you chuckle “No…no.” He whispers under his breath.

He sits up and stretches his neck, hissing slightly at the soreness caused by his constant stress, lack of sleep, and probably many other factors. 

“I still need to finish writing this report-” He almost moans when your fingers expertly start to knead his poor muscles. 

You smile and hold back a laugh at Eris' pleased sounds. His thoughts were now completely off his work and the thing he was about to say. His soreness slowly fades away as your fingers work their magic on him. 

As you keep applying just enough pressure on the sore spots on Eris's shoulders, your eyes dart to his many moles and freckles. You suddenly realize that you don’t often have the opportunity to stare at his bare back. “Beautiful…” the words fall from your lips absent-mindedly.

Your words breaking the silence confuse Eris “...What?” he asks, his voice low from the deep state of relaxation you had managed to soak him in. “I said they’re beautiful, your moles and freckles. They make me think of a starry night sky. You are exquisite, my love.”.

The blush on his face travels up all the way to his ears, and he mumbles a shy ‘you too’, too stunned to answer anything back at your sweet words. He wonders how you manage to do it, every word that comes out of your mouth is always so honest and so… poetic. 

—

The bubbles of the bath had completely melted, and the water was starting to turn cold when you both decided to get out of the bath. You had braided your damp hair before the two of you quite literally crawled your way under the soft duvet of your bed. 

Eris was gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, admiring your peaceful figure lying down in front of him. He was trying his best to heat up your ice-cold feet with his legs wrapped around yours. After years of marriage, he still couldn’t understand how your feet always seemed to be literal ice cubes. You were starting to drift to sleep when suddenly you reminded yourself of something “You know that unfinished report you were worried about earlier?”

“Yeah?”

“You finished it this afternoon.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion “Impossible, I was in a meeting this afternoon-” Realization hits him when he hears you scoff quietly, his eyes soften and he pulls you closer to his chest, squeezing you tightly into his arms and kissing the crown of your head. You nuzzle into his warmth, appreciating the low rumble of his chest when he speaks up quietly before you both drift to sleep. “Thank you…”

“I love you.” You whisper as you fall back asleep.

“I love you the most, my solace.” 

••••••••••••

A/N: Well, I was supposed to post it on Friday or Saturday, but here we are! 😅 Hope you like it. I barely edited it, so if you guys notice anything, please let me know 💕

[kangnina]

i suck at asking for these type of things but han and fem reader sneaking around in the dorms?? (u can ignore if u want!! dont need to do!!)

“Are you sure?” you ask, quickly sneaking into the door before anyone sees you. Han locks the door to the dorm behind you. In an instant, he has you pressed against the door. His eager lips attacking your hesitant ones. His tongue rolling inside your mouth as he gropes your breast through your hoodie. You can feel his erection against your stomach. You gently push him away. 

“We’re not going to get caught. Relax babe. All the guys are at dance practice. I lied and said I had food poisoning,” he smirks.

“You’re so wrong, Sungie. If Chan finds out, he’s gonna kick your ass." Han shrugs. “Let’s at least go to your room,” you say. He immediately pulls your hand, leading you down the hall and into a bedroom. He closes the door. Once again, his eagerness takes over and he peels off your panties from beneath your skirt, pushing you back onto the bed. 

“WELL DAMN, just  treat me like a piece of meat, Jisung!” you say narrowly hitting your head on the top bunk. He grins. 

“Shawty, you know I’ll eat you like a main dish,” he says, dropping to his knees with a cocky grin. You roll your eyes. He lifts your skirt, pushing your legs apart and goes all in. He loves making a mess of you. Your inner thighs are covered in spit and slick. The rapper's tongue is good for many things. But pussy eating is by far your favorite in his skill set. Rolling his tongue against your clit. Sucking. Nibbling and humming as he curls his fingers to get your body lifting off the bed. When you pull his hair with both hands, he knows he’s slaying it. Just as you’re about to cum, he pulls out his fingers and licks them greedily. 

“...the hell Jisung…?” you pant in frustration as Han stands up.

“Sorry bae, time is a factor and I still need to fuck you,” he says pulling his swollen cock out of his sweatpants. No sooner does he enter you, you both hear Hyunjin singing in the hallway. There’s no time to think. You both drop to the floor and shimmy under the bed. As far back against the wall as possible. The dust beneath tickles your sinuses and you feel a sneeze threatening. You press your lips together and close your eyes, trying to mute yourself as Hyunjin swings open the bedroom door. A tiny little squeak escapes you. Han stares at you like you grew an extra head. He put his finger to his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Thank god he’s not masturbating on my bed again. Horny fucking squirrel,” Hyunjin says to himself. You narrow your eyes at Han as you both hear Hyunjin’s feet approaching. Then the creak of the bed above you. Oh fuck. Your eyes widen as you remember your underwear. “WHAT THE FUCK JISUNG??!!” you hear Hyunjin screeching as he jumps off the bed. You feel a hand grab your high-heeled foot that you didn’t realize was peeking from beneath the bed…

-----

@snoopypupp @moonlightndaydreams @daydreams-after-dark @wildflowermooon

[seireitonin]

“Toby/ other characters would be an abuser!1!” A talk on why that pisses me off

Hi. My name is Seirei. I don’t want to share super personal shit on the internet, but due to certain factors in my life I have BPD. (this is NOT self diagnosis. I have been to a professional and for now they think I have this due to certain trauma/ symptoms I’ve shown) This is part of the cluster B personality type. That being said Toby and many other creepypasta characters either canonically have ASPD/ BPD or it’s a generally accepted headcanon that they do. Now this in itself doesn’t bother me if it’s done well and with research. But the problem is most ppl just slap these labels onto them without doing the proper research. I’ve gotten multiple comments on my TikTok like “well I think Toby is an abuser bc he has ASPD/ BPD” I hate that. I hate that so much. You guys say it’s for “realism” but you’re just demonizing mental disorders. You’re demonizing people like me. In you having your “realism” youre hurting me and ppl in the cluster B personality type. ASPD/ BPD doesn’t instantly make you an abuser. These are personality disorders brought on trauma. Especially trauma with parents/ family. People with ASPD/ BPD know that we’re not well all the time. We’re suffering from disorders that affect our lives. From trauma/ experiences that we didn’t ask for. These are DISORDERS. These aren’t fake edgy illnesses that you can slap onto a character with no thought when you want them to be angsty. For example when ppl say “Toby would be an abuser/ not be capable of love because of his ASPD and he went through abuse in his past” not only are you taking away the depth of his character, you’re just straight up demonizing mental disorders. If you read his story, he loves his mom and sister so much. People with ASPD can love. But it does cause him to be obnoxious and rude. But this isn’t coming from a place of malice. He’s a traumatized man w a disorder! This isn’t me saying Toby can do no wrong and he’s 100% healthy. Toby definitely has issues and I’d never erase that. But to call him an abuser because he has ASPD is so gross and you’re just demonizing ASPD to be edgy without doing research on it or the cluster B personality type in general. As I said before, people with cluster B personality type KNOW we have disorders. We live with them every day. They affect our lives, our relationships, ourselves. We know that we fuck up and what we do isn’t healthy all the time. We KNOW. We’re not doing it because we’re “abusers” we’re suffering and hurting. Again this isn’t me saying that everyone with BPD/ ASPD is a good person who’s willing to do the work and grow. There are bad people with these disorders. But that doesn’t mean everyone who has them are instantly abusive. I’m not an abuser at all. Never have been and never will be. But BPD does affect me and the way I act that can come off as hurtful/ unhealthy and I KNOW THAT. Im always actively putting in the work to be better, like a lot of people with ASPD/ BPD. Just because we have these disorders doesn’t instantly mean we can’t change/ be better. Doesn’t mean we’re not humans with emotions/ trauma of our own. Toby obviously had to do some kind of inner work to be able to be with Clockwork the way kastoway portrayed them. (If it’s canon or not is irrelevant here)When you say shit like “Toby is abusive bc of ASPD/ BPD” that’s what you’re telling us you think of us. You see us and treat us like monsters but then talk about how much you love Toby/ other characters for having our very real disorder. ASPD/ BPD can be seen as two sides of the same coin. They have so many similarities but are shown in different ways. Do proper research before you talk about mental health because you’re stigmatizing/ demonizing disorders that are already looked down upon. Toby does canonically have ASPD and possibly BPD but it’s written into his character pretty well(as well as a 13 year old in the 2010s can do) and now that ppl are older we can actually analyze his character/story correctly. But Jeff and many other characters still aren’t getting this same treatment and they need it.Do better.

[saleeba]

silk sheets, silver tongue ; jude bellingham 🍓

summary ♡ jude can never resist you when you’re looking so pretty in a sundress.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+ (minors dni), smut, established relationship, p in v, praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, missionary, protected sex, no specific power play but maybeee a bit of dom!jude, porn with a poor attempt at plot, getting fucked in a sundress yessirrrr

a/n ♡ aaaaa this is my very first piece of writing on here!! >.< and trust it to be a smut lmaoo i might be speaking into the abyss here but i hope u guys enjoy tho pls lmk if u have any feedback <33

when jude proposes a holiday to málaga during the mere two weeks he has off from training, there is no way you’re going to say no to him.

so right now, the two of you are side by side at the hotel’s pool, lounging under the warm spanish sun, grateful to finally spend time together after such a busy season. a blush pink sundress is wrapped around your body, letting the slight breeze blow around the hem as a shirtless jude lays to your left, skin glistening from his time in the pool.

“i’m so glad we could do this, you know,” jude declares, turning his body to face you before his hand comes in to rub at your thigh. the sting of cool golden rings bites at your sun-drenched skin. “i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to have you all to myself.”

you bite your lip, struggling to hold in a bemused giggle as you turn your own self to face him. “yeah? well, you have me now,” jude’s hand shifts higher under your sundress at your words, fingers innocently massaging your upper thigh, the pads occasionally dipping into the inner skin. this leaves you more flustered than you would like to have admitted.

“all of me.” you breath out, moving into the warmth of his toned body and feeling like you’re falling into him.

he catches you with his lips on yours, the softness of which contrasts heavily with his strong grip on your body, arms now wrapped around your waist, pressing you to him. the feeling of both factors drives you dizzy, your selfish needs now taking over.

you press your mouth hungrily against jude’s, not caring about who sees the two of you as you hoist yourself up with both hands on his shoulders, legs parted on either side of his thighs, lips still greedy for his. with jude focused on cradling you in his arms, pushing you onto his torso with one hand at your waist and the other behind your neck, you begin to slowly rock your core against his pelvic bone.

jude lets a groan leave his mouth and flow into yours, the vibrations getting caught in your throat before seemingly traveling down to your core. your underwear grows wetter by the second at the sounds coming out of your boyfriend.

“oh god, babe…” jude tilts his head back, your mouths finally drifting apart and making room for his breathing to get shallower. you immediately see the opportunity to peck and bite at his exposed throat, teeth sinking ever so slightly into the damp skin.

“b-babe, babe,” jude hurriedly says, gently pulling you off him by the shoulders. you immediately feel the reality of your environment settle in. oh my god, you think, how many parents, kids and families did you force to witness all that?

“i’m sorry…” you remove yourself entirely from jude’s embrace, embarrassment heating up your cheeks. “got a bit carried away.” you fiddle with your fingers, mentally scolding yourself for being so promiscuous in public.

jude shoots up from the sun lounger that the pair of you were previously situated on, taking your hand in one of his and squeezing your waist with other before he sincerely says, “hey, i just didn’t want them to see all this, they would’ve been too jealous over what’s about to go down.”

he pauses for a second, eyebrows knitted playfully. “or maybe i would’ve been too jealous of them seeing you like that.” he gives you a purposeful wink to which you return with an equally playful roll of your eyes and an amused smirk on your face.

“come on, baby,” jude pulls you along with him, the two of you exiting the communal pool and heading towards the hotel’s back entrance. “you’ve gotten me way too hard for us to not do something about it.”

***

the journey back up to your plush hotel suite is an agonisingly slothful one - although you guys have opted for the lift, it is on the 19th floor after all. jude’s quiet c’mon c’mons and constant pressing of your floor number has you laughing, not wanting to bring up the fact that the ache between your legs was growing in case it caused him to nearly break the damn button.

once the relieving ping of the lift sounds, signalling that you’d reached your destination, jude is quick to grab you by the hand and lead you to your room. no words are spoken between there and the door to your suite but the both of you know what to expect.

once the door is swung open (then shut) and before you can even utter a syllable, jude near throws you onto the bed. the coolness of the beige silky sheets catches you this time, mattress bouncing with the force that you’d been placed on the bed with. jude hastily presses his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to feel any inch of you on him, before parting your legs at the knees and pushing them back slightly, causing you to wrap them around his waist.

you both continue to kiss each other, mouths moving to a self-appointed rhythm, each of you letting out whines and groans that only spurs the other on.

jude pulls away from the sweet sensation of your lips, albeit reluctantly, but finds a compromise in boring his eyes into yours, face still barely an inch away from yours. his gaze is drawn to how swollen and kissed-out your lips look.

“let me make you feel good tonight, baby, okay?” he somewhat asks, somewhat demands, progressively running his hand up your thigh to your underwear and letting his fingers linger on the fabric. he steadies himself by touching his forehead to yours, eyes still staring into yours.

you gulp and give him a quick yet honest nod to which he replies with a deep kiss, thumb suddenly pressing onto your clit. his mouth is muffling all the mewls that are leaving your throat, your legs still wrapped around his bare waist and threatening to wrap tighter.

jude buries his face in the crook of your neck, nipping at it with his teeth and soothing it over with his tongue and lips. it’s your head that’s tilted back now, left to his mercy only.

“gonna make you feel so good, darling,” jude whispers on the skin of your throat, pressing light kisses to the area as his thumb continues to keep rubbing against the fabric on your throbbing bud. “gonna give my girl what she deserves.”

your breathing starts to get heavier, anticipation now bubbling in the bottom of your abdomen and spreading to your core, the aches from earlier still resonating.

“p-please, jude,” he reaches the top of your cleavage when you pant this out, your pink sundress still covering all the parts of you that he desires most at this moment.

“be patient for me, baby,” he gently commands, fingers now hooking into the waistband of your panties before they’re pulled off in one swipe and tossed to some corner of the room. “fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear down,” he groans upon briefly catching a glimpse of your wet pussy before it’s covered by your legs closing as he steps away from the bed for a second, eyes just drinking in your beautiful figure on the king-sized bed.

without a word, he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer to the end of the bed, your legs dangling off the edge and palms flat behind you to sit you up steadily. jude pushes the bottom of your sundress up and bunches it around your waist, now fully putting your lower abdomen and wet pussy on display for him.

he gets on his knees right in front of the bed, face level with your sopping hole. “there you are, darling, hmm?” he hums, the tiny distance between his lips and your cunt making the sound waves travel straight through you. “all wet and ready for me.”

your breathing gets more rapid, chest heaving at this point and you’re desperate, so desperate to feel his lips, his tongue, his fingers, his anything on your needy cunt.

“jude, please!”

your whining makes him lift his head from where your pussy is to where he can see the near torment painted on your gorgeous face. eyebrows furrowed, lips pouting. you looked like a dream and there was no way he could deny you now.

he suddenly yanks you towards him, hands hooking around your soft thighs until your bottom half is hanging off the bed, legs draped over his shoulders and onto his back. the action makes his mouth latch onto the tense bud that is your clit as a high pitched gasp slips past your lips.

jude gets to work on your pussy, mouth ardently lapping up every drop of wetness his touch and his words have created. the feeling of his lips wrapped around your clit has your back arching off the bed, core pressing right up against the prickly scruff on his chin. the added friction has your toes curling in bliss.

you moan his name, one, two, three times and it does nothing but egg him on some more, tongue now slipping between your soaked folds and poking at your hole. the heightened sensitivity has your hand grabbing at his curls, the sensation in turn making him groan against you, the tremors of which have you moaning louder for him.

the room is filled with the gruff noises jude is emitting as he devours your sopping cunt - nose deep in the fleshy contours - and the breathy cries of jude, oh god, jude and ah ah ah coming from your parted lips.

the sounds you make are becoming more frequent and desperate and your eyes are squeezed shut, unable to comprehend how good jude is making you feel with his mouth, all this indicating that the bubbling arousal in the bottom of your stomach is about to tip over. jude, all of a sudden, stops.

“wh-what…?” you blink your eyes open, almost on the verge of tears over your climax being so cruelly snatched away like that.

jude says nothing, only getting up off the floor before pulling his white shorts down and stepping out of the fabric pool they leave around his ankles. he has no underwear on so you see firsthand how raging hard his cock is.

“‘m sorry, baby, you taste so good but-” he taps his seeping red tip on your pussy, still slick from his spit and your juices, the fluids combining on his cock and pulling off in a connective string as he brings his fist over it, jerking himself off for a second or two.

to you, it feels like multiple minutes. minutes where jude is indulging himself after denying you such a satisfying orgasm. you would’ve scoffed at the way he grunts out your name as he touches himself if it wasn’t for how absurdly hot he looked and sounded.

“just didn’t want you to cum so soon, y-yeah? w-wanted you to, ah, cum around my cock.”

he grits his teeth, hissing when he makes contact with the red hot feel of your cunt on his cock, taking his time to ever so slightly dip into the soaked slit.

“fuck, jude, hurry up,” you whine as he does anything but give you what you want. he’s now toying with the dress still gathered around your waist.

“have i told you how fucking stunning you look in this dress?” he pointedly ignores what you have to say, eyes heavy with lust and fingers still playing with the soft cotton material. a stray finger or two strokes the sides of your waist and you feel like screaming in frustration.

“i’m not sure how much i appreciate that compliment when you’re about to rip it off me.” you assume jude was going to pull off and throw your dress in some far nook of the room just like he did with your underwear. your tone is snarky too, a bitterness you think jude deserves after acting like such a dick.

“nah ‘m gonna keep it on, wanna see how good you look while i fuck you in it,” he smirks, watching how you visually gulp and avoid eye contact with him. your cheeks are burning with a mixture of fluster and excitement. you watch him as he retrieves a condom packet from the bedside table, taking his sweet, sweet time to walk back to the bed’s edge where you were suffering, legs still wide apart for him.

“now, you gonna let me give that sweet pussy what it deserves, hm? gonna let me stretch it out and fill it up with my cock?” he says all this without taking an eye off you, rolling the condom on without even looking at it.

his lewd words have such a heavy effect on you, your cunt automatically getting wetter and clenching around empty space. you can’t think of wanting anything other than jude’s thick length stuffing your tight pussy, anything other than his lips on yours, his fingers rubbing at your swollen clit right now.

“yes, yes, please give it to me, jude,” you beg him now, all forms of shame leaving your body along with these words. “i need your cock filling my pussy up, please, it’s yours.” you rake your nails up and down his biceps in an attempt to soothe your neediness and to also hurry him up.

jude lets a moan out at what you’re saying to him, the way you’re desperately babbling making him even more unbelievably hard. giving up on the teasing and deciding to fulfil both your wishes, he pushes his cock past your spit and precum-drenched folds with a strangled groan.

the sound that comes out of you is nothing short of pornographic. and it drives jude crazy.

he immediately sets a deep and fast pace, big cock pummelling into dripping wet pussy, the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and the two lovers’ moans and groans mixing into the evening air.

“oh fuuuuck, y/n,” he can’t believe how good and tight and wet you feel around his hard length, your pussy only getting more soaked at his words. “it’s like you were made for this dick, baby. m-made for me, weren’t you?”

you plan to wrap your shaking legs around jude’s waist to bring him closer into you, needing every inch of his skin on yours, every inch of his cock inside you. but your boyfriend has other ideas. taking both legs onto his shoulders, he’s able to reach even deeper in your pussy as he strokes in and out of you, an unfathomable amount of dick now filling you up. you almost scream from the pleasure, nails now scratching at his thighs.

“s-so so good for me, baby, you’re doing so good, ah!” he struggles to get his words out, the tightness of your cunt on his cock having the same effect on his throat. he’s always been loud in the bedroom but tonight is showing a different side to him — his voice is more confident, unabashedly telling you how good he feels and how good you make him feel, and it makes you want to burn it onto a CD and play it on loop.

jude allows your legs to relax now, positioning them around his waist himself with you giving him a thankful stroke across his abs. the pace at which he fucks you gets faster, the straps of your sundress falling down your shoulder with the speed and exposing the top of your tits.

you’re scratching up jude’s back with the same ferocity he’s pounding your pussy, the pleasurable pain making the both of you nearly drool with how delicious it feels. the tight knot in your stomach threatens to come undone and you warn jude with an increase in the pitch of your moans.

“i’m so close, baby,” you mewl, gasping out for your boyfriend who captures your lips in a sweet kiss that differs so beautifully from the way he’s abusing your poor pussy. “please don’t stop, oh, jude, please cum with me.” you’re craving for release now but you only want to ride it out with him, any former feelings of selfishness being replaced with the desire you feel for your lover.

“i’m right there with you, angel, let go for me,” jude’s face is hovering over yours, warm breath fanning what feels like flames on your cheeks, the reward of a white hot orgasm so so close. his thumb regains contact with your now bare clit, stimulating it quickly. “cum around me, baby, cum all over my cock.”

you cum around jude not a moment after he says that, with a scream that can surely be heard 4 rooms down the hallway. the walls of your cunt spasm around his dick, which triggers jude’s release, his slightly higher than usual pitched moans muffled into your neck. his white seed spills into the condom and you can feel the weight and warmth of it in you despite the barrier, and the last stroke of his cock makes you shudder.

you collapse into the bed and let the sheets engulf you, bringing jude down with you too. the two of you don’t say anything, you just let each other pant out the remaining energy with shallow breaths.

jude breaks the so-called silence first. “that was fucking incredible,” he laughs breathily, kissing your cheek repeatedly. “mhmm, thank you, thank you, i love you.” he nuzzles his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, leaving small kisses along the skin.

“jude!” you chuckle at his post-nut clinginess, trying to remind him of the fact that he was literally still inside you and that you both needed to clean up.

“noooooo!” he whines upon hearing your demands but still slips out of you and disposes of the condom before face planting onto the bed, right next to your tired self.

you let out a small gasp at the feeling of emptiness and close your legs tightly, rubbing your thighs together as they burn from the different positions jude had held them in.

“ugh, jude, i swear we’re not doing rough sex for at least 3 months now, my thighs can’t take it,” you complain, attempting to massage them but giving up in sheer exhaustion.

jude sniggers, pulling himself up to rest the side of his head on your left thigh, leaving a loud mmwah on the sweaty skin with his lips. “okay but how long really until we go at it again?” suggesting that neither of you can resist the other.

“i’m serious, jude!” you swat at him, playfully.

“yeah, yeah, round 2 in the shower?”

“JUDE!“

[spiderize]

.・'-✧ :-TORN | LSK. -: ✧.

description: you’re leon’s girlfriend and the gals are fighting!!!! 😒😒😒

warnings: angst. leon is still in love with ada wong (me too) while you guys are dating (he loves you too(i think)). english is not my first language so plz correct me if there are mistakes!! first time posting fics on tumblr so expect disappointment because i don't know what i'm doing.

word count: ~1k

You’re arguing with Leon, again... Your relationship with him has been rocky this year, with many factors adding to that but mostly due to his mission in Spain. This time, it's about Ada Wong. Just saying her name has left a bitter taste on your tongue.

You know of this infamous Ada Wong. Of course you do, how could you not? You haven't seen her, but you've heard stories from Leon. And he always talks so highly of her. And this time, when he came home smelling like women's perfume… you've had enough. You finally decided to confront him, and was met with the heart-shattering truth.

“Fine! I'm still in love with Ada, alright? Are you happy now, is that what you wanted to hear?”

It's not like you didn't expect that, but to hear it loud and clear coming from Leon… it was like the world went quiet. No loud car noises, not even the TV show that you turned on made a sound. All you could hear were his words that pierced right through your heart.

You pressed your lips together and nodded as tears threatened to fall down your face.

“So our relationship was a lie this whole time? I loved you, Leon! I fucking love you..”

You're cursing yourself, mentally. For being stupid. For thinking he was different from other people you've been with. For thinking that you could get married to him.

Leon's eyes soften as he sees your tears, guilt creeping into his expression. He reaches out tentatively, trying to cup your face.

“Don't touch me! Just don't…”

You're screaming at him because you're mad, but mostly because you don't know what you will do if he does end up touching you. You're scared you're gonna lean into his touch and let him make you forget.

“I care about you. Deeply. But there's something about Ada, she's like a part of me that I can't let go. I wish it wouldn't be like this, trust me… But my heart is torn between two different paths.”

His voice is gentle, filled with a mixture of guilt and sincerity.

And you hate him. You hate him for talking in that soft, gentle voice. The same voice that has told you countless of ‘I love you’s. Part of you wish he was just yelling at you.

“Then choose, Leon! Me or Ada?” You asked him, voice now raspy from crying and shouting.

Leon looks at you, eyes filled with conflict. He momentarily lifts his arms to hold you, before dropping back to his side. The hurt was evident in his face as he remembered your words earlier. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he speaks.

“I… can't. It's not fair to you… and not fair to Ada. I can't give you a straightforward answer, because I'm stuck in the middle.”

He pauses briefly, and you can hear his wavering voice.

“But I hope you know that I do care about you and I don't want to hurt you. I love you and my feelings for you are sincere and genuine. And if you can find the heart to bear with me through this struggle, then we can work through this together.” He said, and you can sense the sincerity.

But you can't. As much as you wanted this to work out, you can't stand being the second choice. It happened one too many times and you won't let it happen again.

“You can work through this. I can't! Not when I know that I'm not the only one in your heart. So just choose, please…” You choked the words out, wiping your tears but it's no use. They just keep falling down like it's damn Niagara Falls.

Leon's face falls, as if he's been struck by your words. He tries searching your eyes for any signs of forgiveness or understanding.

“I.. I can't. You deserve someone that will give their whole heart to you. And I don't want to lead you on when I'm still confused with my own emotions.”

His voice cracks. He takes a step closer and talks again, his voice barely above a whisper this time.

“I never wanted to hurt you, but… if you can be patient with me, I need time to figure things out, to make sense of what I feel.”

He begs for the last time, his words hang heavy in the air. And you speak immediately. Because if you don't, you're gonna think about his offer.

“Then I'll leave. I can't look at you—or even be near you right now.” You turn your back and walk away from him.

“I'm going to pack my things, and leave. And don't. Don't try to stop me, unless you have an answer for my question.”

And you do. You thought about leaving some of your clothes behind, but the thought of other women wearing your clothes makes you sick. You finished packing your stuff in the bedroom and as you walk towards the bedroom door to leave, you see a polaroid on the table.

You picked it up to see it clearly. It was a polaroid of you, face covered with chocolate cake, while Leon kissed your cheek. You remember this day, every second of it. It was your birthday, everybody was there. It was Claire who smashed your face in the cake. You remember getting mad about it but then laughing a second later.

You smiled at the polaroid, then put it back down on the table. You leave the bedroom and walk towards the front door of the apartment.

Leon was sitting at the couch, face in hands. When he heard you walk to the door, he stood up and looked at you.

You see him, and he looks like a mess. Probably more than you do. His shirt is soaked with his tears, and his eyes are red. He opens his mouth to speak, and you wonder if he is going to beg you to stay. Because maybe you'll listen, this time.

But he closed his mouth as soon as he opened it. Of course he wasn't going to. You speak to him one last time, “Goodbye, Leon.”

You twisted the door knob and walked out of the apartment without looking back. And as you leave, you felt a tightening knot in your chest, because all you wanted was to be loved the way you loved.

[redlittlefoxari]

Astarion Epilogue An Adventure in Making Life: Chapter Nine: Secrets Don’t Make Friends

Relationship: Astarion X Tav

Warnings: NSFW 18+, smut, blood, violence, sex, blood drinking, pregnancy.

Summary: Karlach barges in on Tav while she's about ready to come down for dinner. Spotting a Fully naked, and pregnant Tav.

Master List

People who wished to be tagged: @ofmyth-andmagicart @lunaredgrave

If you want to be tagged in future updates send me a message

12 weeks pregnant

Karlach’s eyes moved from your small baby bump to your face and back to the bump. There were so many emotions on her face, warring for control, the most prominent ones being hurt, confusion, anger, and happiness. They all tore across her face, and seeing her in this state broke your heart.

“What the fuck is going on.” Karlach walked further into the room, raising her voice as she did. “I thought you said that it was hard for elves to get pregnant? All that on the road earlier, and here you are, Pregnant.”

You quickly picked up a towel to cover yourself. “Keep it down.” You hushed her. “I know this looks bad, but let me explain.”

“Keep it down? Keep it down!?” You hushed her again. “You better get to explaining why didn’t you tell us? Does Astarion even know?”

“Oh, he knows…” You walked over to the bed where your clothes were laid out and sat down.

“So what, the two of you decided to have a child and found a sperm donor or something?” She waited for you to reply.

“No, it’s his child one hundred percent. Long story short, if a vampire has had enough blood and is sated, they can produce children.” You placed your hand on your stomach. “And if everything alines with elves, we can produce children, so one night about twelve weeks ago, Astarion had enough blood, and an elven soul was looking to be reincarnated. So now I am pregnant with a half-vampire baby.”

Karlach’s jaw hung open in surprise. “So why didn’t you tell us? That's amazing; we should be celebrating!”

Karlach closed the distance between the two of you, taking a seat on the bed next to you. She was a good foot and a half taller than you, so her tower form loomed over you a bit as she waited to hear why you and Astarion felt the need to keep this from them.

“I was scared.” You looked down at the floor. “Elven pregnancies are already high risk. and you mix that was a Vampire where we don’t have a whole lot of information… I don’t know.”

“But you're okay now… aren’t you? You’re so far along now; wouldn’t it be okay to tell us.” Her voice was low, an attribute that you didn’t see often in her.

“I don’t know. I’m still scared something could go wrong.” You could feel tears in your eyes starting to form. “What if I tell you all, Put it out into the universe, and something bad happens… what if I lose them and have to tell you all that they're gone…. I have to go through the loss of telling you over and over again.”

There it was, the fear that you kept to yourself. Not even Astarion knew why you were so adamant about keeping it a secret till you hit fourteen weeks. You just kept telling him you didn’t want to overshadow Gale’s celebration, but the truth was you feared that once you celebrated with friends, some cruel god would take the baby away from you.

You remember stories your mother had told you growing up that she herself had suffered three miscarriages until she finally conceived you. She had kept you secret until she couldn’t anymore, and that was well into her second trimester. It was just something that elves feared since it was a rare gift to have children, and most elves never got the chance to experience it. With the added factor of the baby being Astarion’s, your fears skyrocketed.

“Hey.” Karlach placed her hand on yours; it was warm, whereas yours was cold, the water on your skin making it hard to get warm.

You looked up at Karlach, her smile reaching her eyes, which also had tears in them.

“If any god even thinks of doing that, I’ll go to whatever plane they're on and kill them myself.” You let out a small laugh at her declaration. “I get why you did it… Gods, so when that arrow hit you… the two of your reactions make sense now.”

“We were terrified that we lost them…” The thought sent a jolt of fear to your heart. “I don’t know what I would have done if Astarion didn’t hear the heartbeat.”

“The little guy has a heartbeat…” Karlach stared at you in wonder. “Gods, that’s amazing…. You're amazing. May I?”

She gestured to your stomach, and you nodded. Her warm hand slipped beneath the towel to touch the swell of your bare belly. She wouldn’t feel anything, nor would Karlach be able to hear the heartbeat, but it felt nice having her be a part of the secret and her support. It also didn’t hurt that you were freezing, and she was nice and warm.

“You won’t be able to feel them kicking for a while, not till the third trimester.” You smiled at Karlach’s wonder.

“I just can’t believe that there is a child growing in there. What do you suppose it’s going to be? Boy or Girl?”

“I’m not sure. There is no way to tell short of asking a divination wizard, but I don’t want to know… I like to be surprised.” The thought of a boy scared you, though. You knew nothing about being a boy, and the idea of Astarion teaching them all his ways of being mischievous was scary.

“They are going to be beautiful judging by who their parents are.” Karlach pulled her hand away. “I understand why you kept this a secret, but why not tell us now? We’ll all help you keep this little one safe. Auntie K will be its number one bodyguard.” Karlach puffed out her chest.

“You are right, I suppose I should let you all in on the secret now since you know.” You reached for the white dress that would show off your bump and hesitated.

“I know you’re scared, but you got this. Astarion would never let anything happen to you or the baby.”

“I know. I just don’t want to mess anything up… He hasn’t really had a family. At least not one that he remembers.” You grab the fabric and bunch it up on your lap. “He doesn’t remember his mother and father. the family Cazador made was not even close to something that resembled a family; he just beat them and used them as slaves.” The thought burned white hot in your mind as you thought about everything that monster put him through.

“But now he has you.” Karlach’s voice was comforting. “And the baby.”

“And if something happens and I lose the baby, It’s like I’m taking another thing away from him.”

“You wouldn’t be taking anything away from me.” Astarion said in a quiet tone.

The two of you jumped as you turned to see Asatrion at the door, leaning on the door frame. He pushed off of the frame using his shoulder and entered the room, stopping just a few feet from where you and Karlach were seated on the bed.

“Karlach, would you give me and my fiancee some privacy? I need to remind her of something important.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke.

“Fiancee?” She looked at you.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that part too… sorry.” You didn’t look away from Astarion.

“We’ll you told me most of it.” She stood up and walked past Asatrion, reaching the door and pausing. “I won’t tell anyone… that’s for you to decide when and where you want to do so.”

She shot you one last smile and walked out, closing the door behind her as she did. The two of you stared at each other for several moments. You spoke first, not wanting to be in silence any longer.

“Were you listening the whole time?”

“Yes, When I noticed Karlach was gone, I hurried up her to get her before she got to you, but I was a few minutes too late.” He took a seat next to you. “Now, what is this about you keeping the baby a secret because you don’t want to take another family away from me?”

“It’s more than just that. So many things can go wrong, and if they do, I’ll be responsible for taking another family from you.” You spoke, and Astarion laughed. “How's that funny?”

“Because that is a silly thing to think and say, my love.” He cupped your face with his hands. “Karlach was right. I would not let that happen.”

“You can’t know that We attract bad. luck everywhere we go, pretty much. You’ve already lost so much of the family before you were a Vampire… the one when you were.”

“That one wasn’t a family. Cazador made us to be his slaves to make a small man feel big.” He scoffed. “The rats and bugs that often crawled around me were more family than he ever was. As for my family, before I was a vampire, I don’t remember them, so I have no comment on how they treated me.” He kissed your lips gently. “You and our child growing inside of you are my family, and there is nothing anyone will do to take that away from me. I would rip whoever apart if they tried.”

“So you think we should just tell everyone?”

“I think it is time to stop being so scared, darling, and start living; you are not your mother and are far past the point of losing this child. For gods sake, you got shot in the stomach, and our child shrugged it off like it was nothing. They are far stronger than you give them credit for.”

His statement makes you laugh. “You are right; they are. Just like their father.”

“Don’t forget their mother, too. How many arrows have I pulled out of you these past fifty years? Probably hundreds. The sacred tissue alone was probably enough to keep our child safe.” The two of you laughed lightly.

“What if we lose them?”

“Darling, it was a miracle that we conceived this baby, to begin with, so there must be a god out there that wants us to grace this realm with our beautiful child.” He kissed between your brows.

“I didn’t think of that…” You were beginning to feel foolish. Pregnancy brain, along with the fears your mother placed in you all those years ago, probably didn’t help you think clearly. “Next time, just hit me over the head when I’m not thinking clearly. “

“Will do, but it’s not entirely your fault. The standard practice for elves to keep this sort of thing a secret is kinda hammered into you.” He stood up and walked over to his bag. “Now, if we announce that we are going to be parents, I want to be a little more dressed up than this.” He gestured to what he was wearing. A white flowy shirt and standard black pants he always wore.

Asatrion reached into his bag and pulled out a red embroidered top. Gold was sewn into the top in a pattern that looked like dragons fighting amongst fire. It was gody and over the top and something that screamed for others' attention.

“Do you have anything else?” You also stood, dropping the towel from around you, and stepped into the white dress you were holding.

“What’s wrong with this?” He looked offended.

“It makes you look less like soon-to-be father and more like douchy Vampire lord.” You turned towards him, doing a twirl. “Something subtle like this, maybe?”

“Fine, I’ll wear my dark blue doublet.” He put the gody monstrosity back and pulled out a blue doublet with gold stars sewn into the fabric. He put the doublet on and huffed at you. “Happy?”

“Very.” You wove your arm into his so that the crook of your elbow was touching his. “Now, let's go; our child is telling me it's time to eat, and we don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Of course not, the others certainly, but not our child.” Asatrion said as he smiled down at you.

The dress put you on full display. Your once smaller breasts were accented by a low neckline that plunged down past the bottom of your breasts. The fabric was smooth over your belly and showed the bump of where your child sat in the safety of your stomach. And a long slit just the length of your dress where you could feel the coolness of the tower.

“I’m never wearing pants again.” You said, reveling in how you felt free and not constricted by any waistband.

“And I told you that I’m fine with that it makes it easier to have you whenever I would like; all I would need to do is bend you over and pull up your skirts.” Asatrion leaned down and bit your ear.

You shuddered. “I don’t think we have time to test that… Our baby needs substance.”

“Of course, But after we are fed, I’m going to eat you alive.” He growled his statement into your ear.

A wave of heat went through you. Astarion kindling your arousal. “We better eat fast than.”

You began moving to the dining hall. Each step becomes more complicated than the last. You fought with every fiber of your being to go towards the Dining hall wearing this dress. To tell your friends that secret that the two of you had been keeping all this time. The questions that they would surely ask. You stood at the door and hesitated.

“Are you ready?” Astarion looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“I will be once my heart stops beating so damn fast.” You took a few steading breaths and then nodded to him to open the door.

Astarion flung the door open wide, and you watched as everyone stopped their conversations to look at the two of you. From where everyone was sitting, they would not be able to see the bump that was protruding out from your dress. You watched as Karlach was practically buzzing next to Wyll in excitement. She really was trying her hardest not to let your secret out.

The two of you walked forward toward your friends slowly, fear still gripping your heart. Astarion reached with his other hand and patted your arm. “Everything will be fine.”

“What took the two of you so long?” Gale sounded annoyed as he stood from where he was sitting. “I thought when Karlach went up to get you, you would come down, but then she came down and has been acting like that every since.”

You looked towards her to find that she had a hand placed over her lips and looked like she was going to explode.

“I’m sorry, Gale, it’s my fault. I was having some personal issues I needed to work through.” You had reached the head of the table where your friends were sitting.

You unlaced your arm from Astarion’s and made it easier for everyone to see your baby bump. The whole table stared in shock as Astarion pulled out your chair so that you could sit down. You took your seat. and the table was still silent as Astarion also took his next to you.

Astarion looked around at everyone’s faces. “Well, go on, one of you say something. It’s almost as if you’ve never seen an elf pregnant with a Vampire’s child before.” Astarion grabbed a wine glass and took a long sip as the table erupted with questions.

[ihaveverything]

Limitless manifesting for beginners

part I - basic concepts

part II - states, techniques, change

part III - mental diet, sats

ʚ part IIII - daily life, time

part V - resistance, faith, the ''real'' world (coming soon)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Daily life

The “hard” part of manifesting is not knowing where to get information. There are plenty of resources on the internet to help you get a decent understanding on the Law, as well as original work from source teachers like Neville. A fairly common issue is overconsumption of content, leading to having a jumbled mess of info and confusion on how to go about your daily life. It’s understandable to feel lost, so I will break it down as simply as possible.

You are always being someone. Let’s say you’re manifesting an SP. We know that you cannot occupy two states at once, therefore you’re either in lack or you’re in fulfillment. When you think about your desire (SP or anything else), notice where your mind goes. What thoughts do you have? How are you feeling? What do you know to be true as of this moment? An example of a lack state while manifesting would be thoughts like “I do not have my SP”, “I wish they were here”, “I want to reach out”, “I hope they haven’t forgotten about me”, and feeling rejected, apathy, guilt, fear, etc. Basically knowing they aren’t yours right now. The emotional reactions and intensity of negative thoughts you get may vary from person to person, but the common factor in lack is always the knowing that your desire isn’t here.

A more positive mental diet would be automatically making the choice that you feel as though you have something each time you think of it. It’s as simple as:

Step 1: Identify your desire, I want X.

Step 2: I have it. (Making this choice by utilizing the feeling of having it, this can be attained through techniques or merely a simple decision)

Step 3: Rinse and repeat

I often suggest people make examples out of negative things in order to understand how the positive might look. When you see something unfavorable in the 3D, what is your immediate reaction? Was there any strain or resistance to assuming or fearing the worst? Probably not. Your thoughts, feelings, and reactions will always be aligned with your dominant state. Your only job is to change your dominant dwelling state by entertaining the positive instead of lack. Manifesting is consciously guiding your mind towards where it needs to be, repeatedly making a firm decision that you are something right now, knowing that your desire being unseen right now does not mean it’s non-existent, but it is yours no matter what.

Manifesting is actually much simpler than it seems. Aim to become the person within, and you will see without. Change your 4D, and your 3D will follow. Live your life feeling like the person who has your desires until that state is dominant.

Time

Everyone wants their desires fast, which is completely understandable. It’d be a disappointment if desires had to take an absurdly long time to show up. Many people will say that it’s not good to think about time, because it pulls you away from living in the end, and you focus on the process, which is true. However, it’s also beneficial to acknowledge how time in manifestation works, so that people can have more faith. Like always, your biggest improvements will always come from your own experience and application of the Law, but sometimes knowing why things don’t have to take months or years to reflect is helpful to people’s faith in going all in.

“The time it takes your assumption to become fact, your desire to be fulfilled, is directly proportionate to the naturalness of your feeling of already being what you want to be – of already having what you desire. The fact that it does not feel natural to you to be what you imagine yourself to be is the secret of your failure.” – Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

The time it takes to manifest something depends on how natural your state of awareness is. The state of the wish fulfilled is basically you identifying with a different probable reality where your desire is already yours, and you are utilizing feeling to make that decision to occupy a different state.

We live in a world that is expressed in 3 dimensions. A 4th dimension would be adding on the concept of time, but this does not mean that time is linear. It doesn’t flow in a straight line from birth to death. There have been many scientific studies on the theory that the past, present and future may exist simultaneously. Life could be compared to a movie, because you are watching (experiencing) one scene (event) at a time, but all scenes (events) exist in the present. Just because you are watching the famous deck scene from the Titanic movie right now, it does not mean the ending credits of that movie don’t exist. Creation is finished as a spirituality concept explains that all infinite probable versions of yourself, others, and realities already exist in the present. Every moment of the day we are experiencing a frame, and we move through these frames smoothly enough to maintain a sense of reality and balance so it doesn’t seem like we’re glitching through life, but every event you want to experience is already an existing thing. That’s what people mean by “it is done”. By identifying with an alternate probable version of yourself and whatever you want to manifest, you are selecting a different reality to experience. No circumstance or anything in the 3d can change an existing reality. If that reality already exists right now, then there’s no such thing as the universe acting like a factory and somehow manufacturing and remaking your circumstances so that they align with your new identity. It’s not a process of creation. It’s not a 2 month process for your person to conform, or a 7 month process for you to become wealthy. The version of you that is in a loving relationship already there, your money is already there, etc.

Make your state natural. When I say you can get your stuff fast with discipline, I do not mean that you need to affirm 10k times a day or visualize 500 times and “saturate” your mind to the point of being burnt out. It doesn’t have to be that hard. The discipline is only entertaining the states that align with having your desire, and not returning to lack. If you can just be 1 version of yourself, and stop jumping back and forth between 2 contradictory identities, then your dominant beliefs and state will change. This should be simple to understand because habits stick easier when you're only moving forward without taking a few steps back every couple of hours or even minutes. When you’ve made your new state completely natural, meaning your beliefs have truly changed (not just you think they’ve changed because you’re in a decent mood today), your desires will reflect fairly quickly. Additionally, for the people who spent months or even years to gain success, they were most likely wavering during that time. The solid chunk of time where they were fully committed to a disciplined mental diet and had conviction / faith was most certainly nowhere near that long. It was probably much shorter.

When people express disbelief in faster manifestations, it’s evident they believe things will take time, perhaps the “bigger” things take more time, or manifestation itself is a completely unpredictable process of blind faith. Knowing things can happen fast is not controlling. It’s not setting a time limit on yourself either, because anyone who has truly manifested something in days will know that when asked about their success, the first thing that comes to mind is definitely not “I wanted my stuff fast, so I tried to control the time”. How fast you get your desires should not be the focus of your attention in any case; people can feel free to be motivated with buying the Pearl of Great Price with the Law since there is a possibility of success being right around the corner. Above all, Neville and Seth have said that most desires do not take over 30-40 days to see significant movement or even reach the full manifestation. Proper mental dieting will give you results within a reasonable amount of time, so there’s no need to wait in impatience and fear for months or years.

source tba

[nightdiary]

last night's story (jake) – preview

word count: estimated 15-20k genre: surfer!jake, friends to enemies to lovers, angst, attempt at humor, fluff, eventual smut author's note: the odysseus concept demon got my ass. i cannot get surfer jake out of my mind so this was born .. whew! let me know if you'd like to be added to a tag list for when this is released <3 FULL STORY HAS BEEN POSTED!

summary: lured by the prospect of earning a couple extra bucks for the summer, you head north to man your aunt's surf shop on australia's sunshine coast. it's a visit that reacquaints you with everything you've been running from– old friends, abandoned memories, and one unforgettable jake sim.

“You should come watch me at the state titles next week,” Jake leans over the counter, propping himself up on his elbows and fixing you with an impish look. The movement sends a few droplets from his fringe landing by your hands, and he sheepishly apologizes before reaching out to wipe them away.

Instinctively, you want to reach out and shove his forehead with your fingers, but you have to remind yourself that this isn’t the same Jake you’d grown up with. Whatever you’d once had was left decaying in the past.

“Sure,” you say, ignoring the nagging warmth in your chest. Feigning nonchalance, you busy yourself with tapping on the checkout screen of the iPad, if only to give your hands something to do other than to fidget with your shirt. “Me and how many other chicks?”

Jake laughs good-naturedly, but the momentary lapse of insecurity in his voice isn’t lost on you. You feel guilty for just a moment, but don’t allow yourself to dwell on it. As you finalize his order on the screen, you look up to find Jake already looking back at you, almost expectantly.

“Your total’s $270.59.”

Jake’s face falters the slightest bit, but you don’t think it’s because of the ridiculously high price. “Does that factor in the ‘good friend discount’?”

The phrase makes something sour flood in your mouth, and you resist the urge to scowl. The receipt machine prints out his total, and you rip the paper out with more force than admitted necessarily. You nearly slam it down on the counter in front of Jake, peering up at his shocked face through your lashes. “Yea? What’s my favorite color, Jake?”

Noticeably taken aback, Jake’s confident demeanor slips away as easily as a receding wave. He stutters around his next sentence, and you try not to let your satisfaction show as you open the register. Jake looks down as he counts through the bills in his wallet, pulling out several and passing them timidly across the surface. “Uh–, well, hmm. Something… blue? Wasn’t it blue?”

“I hate blue,” you spit the lie out a bit too quickly, and hope Jake can’t see right through you. You accept the bills you’re handed with pursed lips, slipping them into your register and handing back the few cents you owe him.

“You don’t,” Jake answers immediately, not bothering to reach out and pocket the change. “You love blue. That light seafoam shade you see on the shore. Used to say it reminded you of summer.”

Despite how much you want to disagree, your throat feels all dry and your eyes are stinging and you don’t think you can bear to look at Jake much longer without saying something regretful. But something about letting him think he still knows you makes your fists clench and gut boil.

“People change,” you say with an air of finality. “I changed. You changed.”

Jake takes his bag and steps back from the counter with the expression of a kicked puppy. He looks back at you like he wants to say something, something long left untouched, and you resist the urge to hide behind your counter and stuff your ears with cotton.

You feel naked and vulnerable– like Jake has carefully stripped away every last layer of your defenses and he can see the rotting remains of everything you didn’t say. You hate how he looks at you, like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind and the inner monologue you’ve been fighting since you first met him. Like he still knows you in and out, despite moving away and changing every last bit of yourself that reminded you of him.

“Thanks for shopping with us,” the smile you give him is anything but warm, and you shut the register with a bang that echoes around the shop. “Have a good rest of your day, Jake.”

likes and reblogs greatly appreciated ♥

[ducknewtonscoolhat]

On this day I present

Every single time Duck Newton is horrible at lying !

Episode 7

Duck: Yeah, it’s a nickname. Listen, y’all got a van handy, why don’t you hop in and get on trucking. Don’t forget to— don’t worry ‘bout your clothes. We’ll drive them up seperate.

Swimmer: Why can’t we take our clothes?

Duck: [freezing up] You need to— you need— uh. Here, I’ll get them. Y’all start loading in the van and I’ll bring your clothes out to ya’s. Just another one of the many services we offer from the Forestry Service.

Episode 10

Pigeon: Well, I know how to do it, I just wanna know why.

Duck: Perfect. Perfect. Why? It's for firefighter training? Yeah, it's for firefighter training. It's been a little while since I last told someone that, so I had some time to forget it. But it's for firefighting training, cuz we can't get enough water pressure to fight the fires, forest fires.

Pigeon: Out in Monongahela?

Duck: Yeeeeeeep.

Pigeon: Duck, that's on the opposite side of town. I can find other places that I can get you some more water pressure instead of pumping it out of the water park almost a mile away.

Duck: Yeah, but the water park is definitely gonna be closed. If you can tell me somewhere where you can guarantee that they're not gonna need that amount of water that's using that amount, I'd love to hear about it. Cus, off the top of my head, I can't improvise anything.

Pigeon: There's a reservoir right next to Monongahela.

Duck: The reservoir is a source of water but it's not gonna give other— fuck, listen Pigeon, here's the thing. I... love... to… practice fishing. But... the running water... frightens me, it's called hydrophobia. And I would love to practice my cast in a real water environment where I can get in a large body where I can guarantee that running water won't be a factor. And I would just love to practice my cast in a guaranteed still body. But here's the other thing, sometimes if you do it in a lake, that's what you're thinking, a fish will bite it and normally that's ideal, but I'm just trying to practice casting. It's like, when you don't want to catch, that's when they're biting, y’know what I mean? So I need a still body of water that I can guarantee won't move to practice my fishing casting.

Episode 13

Duck: I should’ve put some time into it, honestly, but I uh… I was real busy with family over the holidays, so I didn’t make much—

Mama: You literally just said you didn’t have any family in town over the holidays.

Duck: God dammit. Dammit!

Mama: I mean, it’s fine if you couldn’t dig anything up, but you don’t gotta lie to old Mama, you know?

Duck: Dammit! Dammit, Duck!

Mama: You don’t have to beat yourself up about it, Duck, I mean po—

Duck: Fuck!

Episode 14

EMT: Do you know what happened to him?

Duck: Oh boy…um…do you want the truth or a more convincing lie? Um, nah so, okay, right… so the Pizza Hut sign started to fall, ‘cause of the weather, and he ran up there on… a fire escape… and tried to push it? …With a bat? Damn it. Nah, he just pushed it, and it fell, but then he fell ‘cause he got shocked. I bet… mmm…I didn’t see. I was in-Ah, shit! Alright, hey fol-hey guys, rewind. I-hey guys, rewind a second. Ah fuck! I was inside, I didn’t see. Anything! I don’t know… this man. I do know this man. His name-Fuck!  Alright, I Ned, hi, here's-hmmm. Alright, so this man’s name is Ned, and he’s a friend of mine, and I don’t know what the hell happened to him, but you know this guy. He’s always getting into something. I don’t know, I was in the building, I almost got killed by a Pizza Hut sign. I might be in shock!

Episode 18

Duck: Honestly… uh if I gotta tell you the truth, Juno, I’m— I was trying to get into character. I’ve been—

Juno: You’re going undercover with these teens?

Duck: —I’m going undercover. I got a undercover teenage identity. It’s— it’s Frick Richums and when I assume the identity of Frick Richums, I’m trying to get undercover, with the Hornets [hisses] so I can find their illegal grow thing. [grunts]

Juno: You are a truly miserable liar, Duck Newton.

Duck: Goddamnit! I put on such a good— damnit!

Juno: Hey, when you’re finished with the… with those, those nails. Would you mind taking them back to the station? I need to sort of keep going around the perimeter see if I can find something to, you know, maybe help with your investigation to take down those— those drug kingpins, the Hornets.

Duck: Yeah, Juno, about that. I— I was kidding about that, of course. I was just having some fun. But I did… I did hear some of them talking on...... Facebook about you and how they were gonna target you. Like they need to get you out of the way. And it kinda freaked me out a little bit. Can you think of any reason anybody would wanna get you… outta the way? Or— or be targeting you? Like… for this?

Episode 21

(Deputy Dewey is asking for alibis)

Duck: Me— Me— Me too.

Deputy Dewey: You too what? You were

Duck: Yup.

Deputy Dewey: Alright…

Duck: Me too. I was— Yup, I— Yup, me too, for both. Yup, me too. Mmm…

Aubrey: Duck, are you okay? You look like you need to use the bathroom.

Duck: Nope. Yeah, I do. Yup. Uh, Burritos, alright… Bye.

Episode 22 Featuring Ned and Aubrey also being bad at lying

Morgue Technician: Can I help y'all with something?

Duck: Well, we would like to see the bodies of--

Aubrey: My brother!

Duck: My dad.

Ned: My son.

Duck: His brother. Her-- His-- His son, her brother, my dad.

Aubrey: Not related. There's two of 'em.

Ned: But you have to figure out which two.

Duck: We need to see a body for a dare. I'm sorry about all the lies from before but we need to see a body for a dare.

Aubrey: I was dared to look at the body of my brother.

Ned: And my son.

Aubrey: I was dared to look at the body of his son. Who is also my brother. Because he is my father.

Episode 32

Duck: Um… yup. It‘s… Harpo. Uh, all… [imitating crackling noise] Y‘all hearing this? [imitating crackling] The… radio break up. Radio break up. Mrrr.

[lilmoonbunny]

Balls and Questions; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft has a question.

There was nothing Y/N hated more than attending balls, but alas, it was mandatory in her workplace. Being in the cyber security sector of the government was nothing short of exciting, at least until you factored in that the digital safety – and perhaps physical also - of the country was essentially in her hands. Socialising had never been her forte, least of all dancing, so combining the two was a nightmare which is likely why she stuck by her close friend Mycroft Holmes.

“Do we have to be here?” Y/N whispered, being careful as to not be too loud that others around them would here.

Frankly, Mycroft did not care about being heard and replied in his typical voice. “Sadly, yes. I do not wish to be here anymore than you do.”

With a sigh, Y/N turned to face those dancing, watching her friend Anthea dance with a man she had been approached by moments prior.

“I don’t know how people dance so much; I couldn’t do it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Mycroft asked, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N smiled. “A bit of both. I don’t think I’d be a good dancer.”

Mycroft hesitated for a moment, seeming as though he was about to say something before turning back to facing the crowd.

Everyone seemed to be having fun except the pair stood off in the corner of the room, both praying that nobody would approach them, although, Mycroft did have a question on his mind for the woman beside him that he was not yet willing to ask.

Truth be told, he had harboured feelings - a ‘silly crush’ as Sherlock called it - for her for the last year, having worked together for three, yet no matter how many times Sherlock told him that she reciprocated his feelings, he did not believe him nor wish to approach her romantically. He didn’t believe that he could be a good partner to her and did not wish to hurt her in any form.

“Maybe we can leave early? Say I feel sick or something.” Y/N chimed in with her idea.

“That does not get me out of this, I’m afraid.”

“Just say you’ll take me home or something,”

“That would start rumours.”

Y/N smiled sadly, taking a sip from the glass in her hand. “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” Mycroft replied, shaking his head when Y/N turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a smile, a giggle falling from her lips.

“I’ll take your word for it, Myc,”

There was that nickname again, the one that she had been calling him for the longest time when they were alone; the one that always had his cheeks flushing. It gave him confidence, well, downing his drink also helped.

“Would you like to dance with me?” He asked, avoiding looking towards the woman, despite wishing to see her reaction.

Y/N smiled to herself. “I would love nothing more than to dance with you. And not just a single, slow dance, I just want to have fun and dance with you for the rest of the night.”

Maybe balls weren’t so bad after all.