#Even though I just got a baby cousin this morning

[shut-up-rabert]

Can't believe I spent the entire day replying to hatemail *and there's still one in inbox*

[laiiaaa]

Your writing is stunning! Can I request injured!reader and Carmy rushing to be by her side? god the idea of that man dropping everything to be with you....

this has been in my drafts for probably a year now. i forget why i was hesitant to post it. so here’s something for you all :)

“Hey, Cousin—”

“I’m in the middle ‘f something, not now, Richie—”

“Hey.” He raises his brows, gives that serious look that has Carmen’s head peeking over his shoulder because it’s so sharp he can feel it. “It’s your girl. You wanna take this.”

He gets nervous, then, heart beginning to race. Where’s his fuckin’ phone?

“Give it here,” he says, arm extended. Richie hands it over and slips out the door, shutting it to leave Carmen by himself in the office; it only makes hurt stomach lurch harder.

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“. . . Carm?” Your voice is broken and wobbly, wrought with tears.

“Baby?” He doesn’t even think before he’s jumping out of his chair, tucking the phone between his jaw and shoulder while he scrambles to find his keys. “Baby, you there? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at the hospital, I tried calling you—”

“The hospital—?” His mind goes back to New York, back to that morning. “What—” He takes a deep breath. His jacket. Where the fuck is it? “Okay, you’re okay, I’m comin’ now, alright?” He storms out of the office toward the lockers, finds everything right where he put it, including his phone. Dead. Fuck. “I gotta hang up, okay? I’m sorry, I know, I can’t take the phone with me. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“O-Okay.” A shuddered breath rings through the line, and it kills him. “I’m okay, Carmy—”

“I know,” he says, shimmying into his jacket and feeling for his keys. “I know, baby, but I’m comin’ anyway, you hear me? Gonna be there in ten.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I love you.”

He doesn’t put the phone back properly, just slides it across the counter and hopes it doesn’t break again, shouting out orders over his shoulder on his way out the door.

The ride there is the longest ten minutes of his life. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know anything at all, really. Are you hurt? How bad is it? What happened? Is it a burn, a broken bone, just a flu that got out of hand? Will you need surgery? Did you get in an accident? Did someone try to hurt you? He doesn’t want you to be alone right now. He needs to be there with you. You were fine this morning. You were fine this morning, all beautiful and groggy when he kissed you awake, still cozied up in bed when he left early as the sky turned blue after sunrise. You were fine. You were fine, and then he left, and suddenly you weren’t.

The fluorescent lights make him nauseous. They’re too bright, and a disgusting color, and too different from all the gentle lighting you insisted upon at home. Made the place homey, you said, and he agreed. The nurses at the station must think he’s out of his mind, all wide-eyed and asking for you.

“What’s your name?” the one asks him.

“Carmen, I’m her fiancé, I was—I was just on the phone with her—”

“Okay,” she nods, softening. “She’s doin’ alright now, she was askin’ for you, though. Still gotta get her wrapped up, but you’ll be outta here soon.”

He’s too busy wondering What the fuck does that mean? to properly answer.

When he’s finally brought to your room, his nerves subside—only a little. There’s no blood, no bland hospital gown to say you’re headed off to the operating room. Just a pillow over your tummy, with your arm—your swollen, bruised arm—resting on top of it.

“Hey, hon,” he says, coming to your bedside and smoothing a hand over your forehead to press his lips to your temple. “You alright? What happened?”

“They—” you sniffle when you look up at him, lip quivering— “They had to take my ring off, Carmy—” he nods along to your rambling with a concerned brow— “I-I told them not to, but they said my hand was too swollen—that-that it was gonna mess up my finger—. . .”

“What’s that, baby?” He smiles into your hair and exhales through his nose. So typical of you to get upset about something cute like that, he knows you’ll be okay. “Your arm’s all black ‘n blue, and you’re worried about your ring—?”

“But it’s special—”

“Shhhhh . . . I know, I know . . . ‘m just askin’ you to ease up.” Another kiss lands on your forehead before he asks, “Where’s it at, baby? I’ll fix it for you.”

You pout and look somewhere behind him. “On the table, but you’re not gonna be able to—”

“Just take a breath ‘n relax f’me, yeah? I got it.”

He stands upright again, turning to check that the ring is there—that beautiful, beautiful big diamond for his precious girl, before reaching toward the nape of his neck to unclasp his chain. Carefully, he threads it through the ring, silently urges you to sit up so he can hook it around your neck, icy-cool on your smooth skin, admiring the way it sparkles like your eyes.

You’re still pouting when he’s done, and he kisses your soft lips anyway while he wipes away stray tears. “Better?”

“. . . yeah,” you admit through a murmur.

“Good,” he huffs, pulling the visitor’s chair right next to your bed. With your good arm, you reach for him, just any part of him, and he holds your hand as he kisses your dry knuckles. “You gonna tell me what happened now? What’s got you all banged up?”

And you groan and roll your eyes, insisting that it’s too embarrassing to tell, and he lets you drag it out just because he thinks it’s cute when you’re stubborn. The doctor comes in with the x-rays to confirm that, yes, indeed, you’ve got yourself a broken arm, and after you’re splinted and discharged and given a sling and the next day’s protocol, Carmen holds your good hand on the way out the door.

“Oh,” you start, pausing before he opens the car door for you, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“I drove here.”

“You what?”

“I told you, I was embarrassed, Carm—”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he grunts, laughing and shaking his head with fingers running through his hair as he helps you into the passenger’s seat. “You’re killin’ me today, y’know that?”

And it’s not the last time. When he unlocks the front door and sees the laundry spilled all the way down the stairs, with a basket flipped upside down at the bottom, he can put the pieces together. He kisses you softly, doesn’t say a word about it, takes you to the bedroom, and tucks you into bed to let you rest now that your adrenaline is wearing off and the pain meds are making you sleepy.

He fixes up the mess without a second thought, and once he’s done he slips right under the covers next to you, thanking whatever God there is that you’re okay, and that he’s got you back in his arms.

(And tomorrow, when he takes you into the doctor’s office for a proper cast, he has Natalie and Pete pick up your car. He still hounds on you about it weeks later, how you drove yourself to the hospital with a broken arm. You insist it makes for a good story, and to that he can’t deny.)

[iadoreneteyam]

e!42 miles and his girlfriend going to his family barbecue

e!42 miles who begs his girlfriend’s to match shoes with him

e!42 miles who laughs in his girlfriend’s face when she says she wants to make a good impression on his family and says “why would I give a damn if they like you, mami?”

e!42 miles who makes sure his girlfriend has everything she needs to do her makeup as she sits down at his desk and looks into the led hello kitty mirror he bought her specifically for his house.

e!42 miles with a girlfriend who allows him to do her lipliner

e!42 miles who willingly sits in the backseat with his girlfriend when heading to the barbecue even though the passenger seat nexts to his mom is open

e!42 miles who does everything to annoy his girlfriend in the car.

e!42 miles who falls asleep on his girlfriend and drools but immediately denies that he drooled on her when they arrive at the barbecue

e!42 miles who puts his arm around his girlfriend’s waist to move her away from all his family members crowding him and his mom before leaning into his girlfriend’s ear and whispering “don’t want you to be overwhelmed, mami. my family is a bit of a handful y’know.” and kisses his girlfriend behind her ear before backing off.

e!42 miles who fights the urge to punch his cousin in the face when he hears something along the lines of “yeah, I don’t know how Miles ended up with a girl like that.” Miles heard murmurs agreeing before his cousin continued “wayyyyyy out of his league, man. he doesn’t even know what to do with that.”

e!42 miles and his girlfriend who runs to be the first in line to get barbecue when his older cousin yells that the food is ready only to be pushed aside with his cousin telling them “older men eat first.”

e!42 miles and his girlfriend who finally get their food and make and effort to sit away from his family because he “rather be with you than with them, y’know that mami.”

e!42 miles who refuses to let his girlfriend get herself another drink. “Imma get for ya so tell me what ya want, mami.”

e!42 miles who also refuses to let his girlfriend throw any of her own trash away

e!42 miles who immediately brings his girlfriend inside when she claims “it’s so hot, baby.”

e!42 miles who regrets coming inside because everyone now sees it as their chance to question him about the girl he brought

e!42 miles who is so happy to get away from all the hassling and to sit on the couch with his girlfriend

e!42 miles who smiles when he sees his girlfriend with his seven year old cousin in her lap as she helps her play uno against his mom

e!42 miles who comes over to the three of them and asks “y’all got room for one more?”

e!42 miles who groans after he loses to them twice before rushing his cousin off his girlfriend’s lap so he can pull her closer

e!42 miles who swings his girlfriend’s leg in his lap and asks her if she’s having fun

e!42 miles who silently begs his mom to go home once they hit the five hour mark to which his mom keeps waving him off saying “yeah sweetie let me just finish this conversation.” (they did not leave after that conversation)

e!42 miles and his girlfriend who don’t get to leave the party until it’s dark outside

e!42 miles who sits his girlfriend at his desk chair and grabs makeup wipes to help her take off her makeup

e!42 miles who lets his girlfriend take a shower first when they make it to his house so she can get more rest

e!42 miles who gets out the shower only to see his girlfriend still awake waiting for him

e!42 miles who gets in bed with his girlfriend, kisses her on the lips, and says “what I say about staying awake for me, mami ?”

e!42 miles who fights the pout on his face when his girlfriend tells him that her parents said she has to come home tomorrow

e!42 miles who just can’t sleep knowing his girlfriend is leaving in the morning

e!42 miles who wakes his girlfriend up and says “ya think ya parents will let me stay a couple days?”

e!42 miles who breaks out into a grin when his girlfriend tells him “ if you go get me breakfast in the morning I’ll ask, how’s that sound, baby?”

e!42 miles who kisses his girlfriend goodnight

[charliemwrites]

Bark, bark, snort, grrr

(The ex idea comes from @st-el-la-luna, absolutely brilliant darling ❤️)

Content: Voyeurism, Mild Injury, Possessive/Protective Behavior

Johnny, for all his quirks and… weirdly human tendencies, is an incredibly good sport. Particularly about letting you put him in Santa hats and wreaths, ugly sweaters and snow socks. He poses for every picture so dutifully, looks so serious and annoyed up until you plant smooches on his head or cheek and that silly lupine grin comes out.

He’s been your perfect little heater ever since the heater started to go on the fritz. It keeps shutting off or turning itself lower than it’s meant to be, leaving you shivering before you realize something is amiss. It’s not so broken that you’re willing to interrupt your solitude to have someone come fix it. But you’re grateful for a big fluffy body laying on your feet or snuggling under the blankets with you.

As the winter sets in, you tromp out with him in the snow a lot. Often use his sturdy shoulders and better footing as a crutch to navigate without slipping. He always gets fussy when you do, dancing in his feet and snuffling at your coat, urging you up.

One morning you wake up after a fresh snow, expecting that you’ll have to clear the driveway and porch - only to find it freshly shoveled and salted. It would spook you, except you’re sure Johnny would have woken you up barking his head off if it was anything to worry about.

Your mother calls about holiday plans in mid-November. You hedge around any commitments, hand buried in Johnny’s fur, saying that you don’t want to leave your precious pup at home.

The combined efforts of both your parents, your sister, and a cousin you actually like makes you cave eventually though. They promise it’ll just be family, that you can even bring Johnny. You grimace at that - debate getting him some meds from the vet…. But he’s been doing better on walks in town.

The weird assurance that it’ll “just be family” should have been a red flag.

When you arrive at your parents’ place, several gift bags and Johnny (with a bow tie on his collar) in tow, you find your ex there. On the couch. Next to your least-favorite cousin and your sister.

“What’s he doing here?” you ask sharply.

“Well, you two were engaged—”

Johnny’s ears shoot straight up as you tense.

“Yeah, and then he cheated.”

“People make mistakes. If you would just hear him out.”

“I don’t care what he has to say. And I don’t care what you have to say either.”

You drop the bags in a heap and click your tongue for Johnny. He falls in with you instantly, leaning up against your side. You get all the way to your car before you hear your ex’s voice calling your name.

You try to hurry, but there’s ice and the last thing your dignity can take is slipping right now. Luckily, you have the perfect deterrent before you ex can even get within arm’s reach.

Johnny snarls, so deep and loud you feel it in your own chest.

“Jesus!” your ex cries, coming up short. “Where did you get that thing?!”

“Johnny picked me. More than I can say for you.”

“Don’t be like that, I’m picking you now.”

“Oh, did your girl best friend lose all her daddy’s money?”

His cheeks light up neon. Huh. Got it in one.

Then he dares another step and Johnny lunges. You just get a hold of his harness but it’s enough ward your ex off a bit more.

“He’s very loyal,” you add. “Also more than I can say for you.”

“Baby, just listen—”

“An upgrade all around, I think.”

You round your car, climb into the driver’s seat with Johnny standing guard, then let him clamber over you into the passenger’s seat. At the front door, most of your family is gathered and staring. You flip off your ex one last time before peeling out of there.

The tears come after you’ve gotten back home. Johnny licks your face until you stop crying, then leads you inside. The two of you curl up on the couch together, his face buried in your stomach. You fall asleep there and dream of a man’s voice whispering love and comfort in your ear.

—

A week later, your ex shows up.

You’re out in the yard with Johnny, watching him zoom through the snow and laughing as he speeds by. Your ex must hear you because he comes round the side of the house.

And Johnny. Goes. Ballistic.

Literally, he hits your ex like a missile, taking him into the snow and snarling like something from hell. He’s got his teeth in your ex’s designer coat, ripping it to shreds. It’s frightening; you’ve never felt safer.

“Johnny!” you call. A growl. You walk closer, kick a bit of snow at both of them. “Johnny, down! Leave it!”

And he does, finally does, though not without taking a good chunk of fabric with him. Your ex, wide-eyed and pale, panting, doesn’t bother to say a word. He scrambles away while Johnny barks after him, all canine and spit.

You hum as he returns to you, fabric in his mouth, tail wagging.

“What a good boy,” you coo, taking the partial sleeve and inspecting it. Louis Vuitton, it looks like. “Very good. My perfect boy.”

You drop his prize into the snow and snort as he wastes no time peeing on it. Well, that’s gonna stay there. Forever.

“C’mon bud, you deserve a treat.”

Johnny follows you happily inside, a new pep in his step.

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Masterlist

[mellowsadistic]

Birthday Party - Part 3

One Year Later

Sarah’s soaking wet diaper squelched between her thighs as she toddled into the kitchen where her aunt was making breakfast.

“Good morning, baby girl,” Helen cooed at her twenty-one-year-old niece, reaching out to cup a hand to the front of Sarah’s nappy through her baby duck patterned onesie. “What a soggy girl! But I don’t smell any poo-poos just yet. Go take a seat, little one. Auntie will have your num-nums ready in just a second.”

Sarah blushed furiously, but even though much of the hypnotist’s conditioning had been undone and control of her body had been returned, her resistance had long since disappeared. She clambered obediently into to her highchair, her breasts wobbling freely in her loose onesie, and sat down on her pissy diapered bottom, wrinkling her nose in disgust as her bum pressed heavily against the sodden padding.

A few moments later, the microwave tinged, and her aunt took out an enormous bottle of warm milk and plonked it down in front of her. Sarah looked at it with distaste. It was breastmilk, she knew. One of Helen’s friends was producing too much of it for her own baby to take, but she was more than happy to deliver a regular supply of bottles to Helen’s house to make sure it didn’t go to waste.

Fighting her revulsion, Sarah took the bottle with both hands and lifted the rubber nipple to her lips. Her mouth latched on instinctively and she began to suckle, feeling the warm, creamy breastmilk squirt across her tongue and flow down her throat. She sucked quickly, but the bottle seemed endless – even after fifteen minutes, she was barely halfway through the enormous thing, and she already felt full to bursting!

Sarah let out a feeble whimper as she thought about her once-tight, sexy tummy. Her mother and aunt were careful not to make her gain too much weight, but her formerly trim stomach was gone. Her belly had a cute layer of what Helen called her ‘baby fat’, perfect for tickles and tummy raspberries. Even her face had a slightly rounder, ‘cuter’ look to it. But Sarah knew better than to throw a fit over her baba. Her aunt was quick with a spanking, and looming over everything was the threat of being reduced back to being a helpless prisoner inside a baby-brained body.

After a few more minutes of mindless suckling, Penny joined Sarah at the table, flashing her babified older cousin a bright smile before tucking into a bowl of cereal with milk.

Sarah couldn’t help but notice how her little cousin’s table manners had improved. It wasn’t long ago that she’d ended every breakfast with soggy cornflakes and milk on her chin, but now she didn’t spill a drop. Straight away, Sarah felt something clunk into place inside her head. She let out a quiet little moan around her bottle, but there was nothing she could do – not all of the hypnosis had been removed, and when a compulsion hit her, she was powerless to stop it. Penny had done something mature, and that meant Sarah had to do something immature.

Immediately, she popped the bottle out of her mouth, blew a spit bubble, and dribbled breastmilk down her chin. She could feel it soaking into the collar of her onesie. Messy girl, a voice echoed in her head. Mucky tot. Dribbly, soggy, wet little baby. Penny giggled at her, and Sarah shoved her bottle back into her mouth to resume her sucking, her face as red as a tomato. No matter how much time passed, it never got less humiliating. She was a grown woman for goodness sake! She didn’t deserve this! Just because she’d been a little rude one time, it wasn’t fair to turn her into some kind of overgrown baby! She’d been taken out of university of course, and there was no chance of going back – her auntie said that if she was lucky, maybe one day she’d be allowed to grow up a little bit more and get a job pushing shopping trolleys at the local discount supermarket. But that was it. No more ambitions. No more dreams. Just minimum wage, and well-used nappies hanging off her hips.

Tears started welling up in Sarah’s eyes, but before a tantrum could really get started, she was distracted by another feeling. There was a sudden fullness in her bottom. Her bladder control was totally gone, and Sarah found herself helplessly dribbling pee-pee into her diapers on a near constant basis, but even after months as little more than an adult-sized toddler, she still had at least some control over her bowels.

With a hiss of air, she finished her bottle. Feeling almost nauseous at the amount of breastmilk now sloshing about in her tummy, Sarah gently lowered herself out of her highchair, clenching her bottom tightly.

“Um… Auntie…” she said, waddling up to Helen and putting on her best pleading look, “I really need to go poo-poo. Do you think maybe I could use the potty?”

“Sarah,” Helen said sternly, turning to look at her niece, “you know the rules. You get to have control over your body again, but you are not an adult anymore. Your mother convinced me not to make you act like a total baby all the time, but when it comes to your potty training, I’m putting my foot down. You will never use a toilet again, young lady. You wear nappies now, and nappies are for pooping in. Now squat down and make a messy in your pants right this instant, or I’ll call the hypnotist and have you cooing and gurgling in your crib by tomorrow!”

Her lower lib trembling pathetically, Sarah fell into a squat, all traces of the formerly proud, snarky young woman gone for good. With a loud fart, she started pooping her diaper. She could sense the smiles of her aunt and cousin above her as she grunted and strained to make yuck-yuck in her pants right in front of them. As the heavy, disgusting load dropped into the back of her nappy, Sarah burst into tears.

“That’s a good girl,” Helen cooed, her face alive with malicious delight, savouring the sight of her niece packing her adult Pampers like the ridiculous baby-woman she’d been turned into. “Get it all out. Right in your pants like a silly little baby.”

Sarah’s vision was blurred by her tears, but she felt her aunt take hold of her hand once she’d finished pooping. Helen led her into the living room and positioned her in front of the television, where some inane children’s program was showing.

“Be a good girl and watch your kiddie shows, Sarah,” said Helen, smirking. “I need to take your older cousin to kindergarten now, so I want you to stay right here. I’ll change your diaper when I get back.”

Sarah only sobbed.

“And your baby monitor will be recording,” Helen went on. Sarah felt her stomach plummet. “I’ll be reviewing the footage later,” her aunt continued warningly, “and if I don’t see a happy big baby girl dancing along to her silly programs, you’ll be getting a very nasty spanking when I get back. Is that clear, little miss?”

“Yes, auntie Helen,” Sarah whimpered, as the embarrassing, babyish music began to play. Helen and her daughter turned to leave, and Sarah started to dance. This was her life now, and she had no choice but to get used to it.

The End

***

If you want to read more evil stories about women being transformed into overgrown babies, I also post on SubscribeStar.

[verysium]

BLUE LOCK REVERSE ICKS 😳

😭 i read this as blue lock icks and was about to drag them all through the dirt with a brutally honest character review. but anyways, reverse icks is still a good idea, so here you go anon:

rin has abandonment issues. now before u come for me, let me explain. ever since sae left him, he's been hesitant to let anyone back into his heart, and that's why you mean so much to him. his hand automatically reaches for yours in the crowd so you don't get separated. when he has nightmares and dreams of you leaving, he wakes up, patting frantically on your side of the bed until he finds your body and relaxes. hugs you as if he'll never let go and buries his face into the crook of your neck and just whispers "thank fucking god." and you can see his chin wobbling as he struggles so hard not to cry, but deep down you know he's a very sensitive soul and you're quite literally his whole world.

sae's entire character is a reverse ick. have you not seen that man? he is beautiful. but i'll give u a little scenario: sae attends a charity gala, and you're invited as his plus one. you're busy getting ready in the bathroom, and he just leans against the doorframe, breath hitching when he sees you all dolled up in your fancy dress. coughs to hide his blush when you turn around and ask him for help. creeps behind you silently, his hot breath grazing your nape as his deft fingers reach for your zipper. his hands are callused and gentle when they clasp the back of your necklace (the one he bought for you), and the cold metal contrasts with the warmth of his hands on your shoulders. his heart is beating so fast that his fingers tremble and struggle with his tie, so you fix it for him but when your gaze travels back up his face, you catch him staring down at you, his eyes filled with an intense emotion. your gesture of kindness reminds him of his mother and how he hasn't gone back home in ages and how blessed he is by the gods to have you in his life.

kaiser does the hair tuck thing where he kisses a strand of your hair and smooths it behind your ear. he tries so hard to be a suave and charming gentleman, but honestly he's just an awkward loser. screams like a girl when you watch horror movies together and hugs you so tightly you think your lungs might burst. but then he gradually quiets down and falls asleep in your arms, and you think maybe he's not so bad. he canonically is not a morning person, so when he wakes up, he has the homeless cut 2.0 with the wild bed head and groggy facial expression. also has a weird habit of walking around the house naked. in any other situation, you would've yelled at him to put some clothes on, but his physique was looking extra good today, and you sort of got distracted. he definitely noticed and not-so-subtly flexed his biceps. always tries to make you laugh even though his pick-up lines are terrible and he can't tell a good joke to save his life.

nagi sometimes wakes up before you and pulls your body closer to him. on most occasions though, it's you who wakes up before him and he drags you back to bed. he hates it when you work late and hovers above you like a phantom, waiting for you to finally finish and go cuddle with him. if it gets to the point where you fall asleep while working, he will tuck you into bed and kiss you goodnight. the next morning, you find all your work finished, albeit in poor handwriting. in all honesty, nagi is a genius, and he tries hard for you and only you. if any other person asked them to finish their work, he would've flat-out rejected them.

isagi is good with children but often at his own expense. unsuccessfully tries to make a baby laugh but ends up getting distracted and slamming face first into a telephone pole. now that made the baby start giggling, and he just smiled through tears with a red bump on his forehead, insisting that he was alright and didn't just knock his two front teeth loose. whenever he babysits your siblings/cousins, he ends up doing all the grueling work like changing diapers, taking out the trash, cleaning up after the gremlins. and yet the children will still favor you and not him. tries to act like he's not heartbroken but boy did that sting a little too much.

barou buys you flowers. has a big stupid blush on his big stupid face and refuses to admit that his heart skips a beat every time you look at him. does that thing where he looks the opposite way to pretend like he's not interested before shoving a bouquet into your hands. he's also very protective. holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk so you don't get run over. holds the door open for you every time. tried to make those origami hearts for you, but his fingers are thick and stubborn, and he stayed up all night in a fit of rage because he's not used to delicate work like this. you ended up getting a lopsided piece of crumpled paper that barou insisted was a heart, and you agreed because why would you hurt his feelings?

chigiri knows how to braid your hair. makes you sit in front of the mirror while his slender fingers carefully brush the soft strands. he can get complex too. dutch braids. french braids. fishtail braids. also does that cheesy couple tradition where he braids a piece of his own hair with yours as a symbol of love. most people don't know this, but he's actually a crackhead. sometimes when you're walking down the street, he'll do impersonations of the various people he sees. the old lady at the laundromat. the two aunties at the flower shop. the fisherman near the boardwalk. he even imitated your dad once, and you nearly lost it. he's too funny guys, but you need a sophisticated sense of humor to understand him.

and that's about it. sorry this was so short anon, but my brain is dessiccated this week.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 8: unspoken but understood

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: everyone see it, everyone knows it... you're just not resfry to admit it

Welcome to the chapter 8 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

The time at home had been everything I needed—warm hugs from Granny, my mom’s home-cooked meals, and the simple comfort of being surrounded by family. It also gave me the chance to step back and see the bigger picture. My final project wasn’t just about basketball anymore; it was about capturing life, connections, and the emotions that come with them.

For the past week, I’d been documenting everything on my personal camera. From my morning walks through the fields to late-night chats with Granny, I wanted to remember it all. Paige had been right by my side, blending seamlessly into my family. It was surprising how easily she fit in, like she was always meant to be there.

One evening, I was in the kitchen baking peach cobbler with Granny. She insisted I follow her exact recipe, even though I’d made it a dozen times before.

“Now, don’t you dare skimp on the cinnamon,” she scolded, wagging a finger at me.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied with a grin.

The next day, my mom organized a BBQ, and the whole family came over. My younger cousins adored Paige, dragging her into games of tag and basketball in the driveway.

“Paige! Paige! Show us your moves!” my cousin Jackson, an aspiring point guard, begged.

Paige laughed and spun the ball on her finger. “Alright, but only if y’all promise not to dunk on me later.”

The kids screamed in delight as Paige ran drills with them, pretending to stumble whenever they “crossed” her over. Watching her interact with my family made my chest feel tight in the best way.

That night, Granny and I sat on the porch swing, the crickets chirping softly in the background.

“You’ve got a good one there,” she said, nodding toward the house where Paige was laughing with my mom.

“She’s not mine, Granny,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Granny gave me a knowing look. “Not yet, maybe. But the way she looks at you, and the way you talk about her? It’s only a matter of time.”

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond.

Granny patted my hand. “Don’t let fear keep you from happiness, baby. You deserve it.”

Paige’s POV

As Y/N and Granny talked on the porch, I found myself in the kitchen with her mom, helping clean up after the BBQ.

“So, what’s Y/N’s favorite thing to do on a night out?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Her mom raised an eyebrow. “Planning something, are we?”

“Maybe,” I said with a smirk.

Her mom’s face softened. “She loves sunsets, anything strawberry-flavored, and quiet places where she can think. But honestly, she’ll love anything you do, as long as it’s with her. Also something about the water calms her. And if you want to impress her, take her to special place that no one knows about.”

I nodded, filing the information away. “Thanks, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Call me Mom,” she said with a smile.

I smiled, filing away the information. “Thank you.”

“Just take care of her,” she said, her tone serious now. “She’s been through a lot, and she deserves someone who will treat her right.”

“I will, momma” I promised.

Y/n Pov

The week flew by, and soon it was time to head back to Connecticut. At the airport, Paige noticed me shivering and draped her UConn warm-up jacket over my shoulders.

“You didn’t pack warm clothes, did you?” she teased.

“I didn’t think I’d need them,” I replied, clutching the jacket tightly.

As we walked through the terminal, I noticed a few fans snapping pictures. By the time we boarded the plane, Twitter was already buzzing.

At the next practice, Coach Geno wasted no time teasing us.

“Look at the lovebirds, back from their honeymoon,” he said with a grin.

“Not you too, Coach,” I groaned, my cheeks heating up.

Paige just laughed, nudging me with her elbow. “You know they won’t let this go, right?”

“I know,” I muttered.

The teasing didn’t stop there. During warm-ups at the next game, Paige convinced me to let her work the camera.

“Just point and shoot,” I said, handing it to her.

“You act like I’ve never held a camera before,” she said, rolling her eyes.

She ended up taking surprisingly good shots, though she couldn’t resist turning the camera on me a few times.

“Smile, Y/N!” she called, snapping a photo of me blushing.

After the game, a reporter asked Paige about our relationship during a post-game interview.

“Paige, there have been rumors about you and Y/N. Care to comment?”

Paige’s smile didn’t falter, but I could see the tension in her jaw. “Y/N’s a good friend and an incredible photographer. That’s all there is to it.”

The answer stung, but I understood why she said it.

Later that night, as we reviewed footage together, Paige leaned closer and whispered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” I said, my voice soft.

The truth hung between us, unspoken but understood.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 .... (more to be added)

[ch6rmed]

KATE MARTIN X PREGNANT WIFE READER

word count; 640 words.

authors note; i love love love feedback!! please come into my inbox and tell me what you think, it really helps to motivate me!

— cried when you told her. tears of joy of course, the two of you had been expecting it. the treatment was bound to work at some point, and if it didn’t, you’d adopt. holding the pregnancy text in hand, you’d cried as well.

— you had recorded your reactions as the test was flipped over. just for the memories, not to post. the pregnancy was not nearly ever posted, you preferred to keep these nine months all to yourselves. the public knew that the kate martin and her wife were expecting their first child, but it wasn’t found out until you were almost ready to give birth. once the baby was born, you tried to keep their face and name out of the media as much as possible. you and kate only wanted this baby to have the most normal life they could have.

the most you’d post, was pictures where you bump was not shown.

— nearly always had her hand on your stomach. everywhere you went, kate stood next to you holding onto you protectively. if you wanted space, your wife stood not too far away, but far enough to keep you happy. in addition to always touching your belly, she’d kissed it all of the time. she truly couldn’t believe it was finally real.

— kate just hopes for a healthy baby, not specifically a boy or a girl. but, when you found out the gender of the baby, the girl was over the moon. you were having a boy. every second she got, she rambled on and on about how good this would be for her nephew, carson. one of the greatest joys of the pregnancy was watching your wife hold carson in her arms and tell him about how his new cousin would be his bestfriend.

— every morning your wife sat on the side of the bathtub, holding back your hair and rub her hand on your back attempting to soothe you. she wishes morning sickness wasn’t a thing at all :((

— cooked for you every night, and every morning. always making or buying what you craved. her cooking wasn’t great, but you never wanted to hurt the poor girls feelings. so the two of you spent lots of time eating out. the thought was what counted after all.

— kate was forever thankful that carson had provided her with practice, and that she had awesome role models that gave her many tips. of course, you’d wake up late in the night to pee, and you’d find the blonde in the living room tiredly watching videos on how to swaddle or burp a baby.

“kate, baby, come back to bed. give the teddy bear a rest. you’ve got six months.”

— speaking of late nights, the girl would sit next to you with her hand on your stomach trying to feel some sort of kick. she couldn’t help but feel jealous that you’d always get to have the extra closeness to the baby during these nine months. and that you’d always be the first to feel the kick. but times like these, she cherished, it helped you to share the experience with her.

— after the six month mark, and your bump had grown larger, kate did everything for you. she took care of everything, cleaning, preparing the nursery, and she still had time for her career. the girl was constantly doting on you, showing how much she truly loved you. no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to do this all, she’d insist.

— and once your child is born, it’s born somehow looking like the perfect mix of both of you, even though you knew that wouldn’t be possible. funny how you carried this baby for nine months, yet he is just as sassy as kate.

divs by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged + anons are on. taglist; @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin. comment to be on taglist!!

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 5

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 5 🔞

Word Count: 7361

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Guys this chapter is biiiig! I'm so sorry. But I didn't want to cut it short and remove such a fun interaction at the end... It has a lot of important information going on but it's a bit NSFW, k? Not too explicit, but still... 🔞

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil

Masterlist

|Chapter 4| | |Chapter 6🔞|

You barely see Law after that encounter because of your conflicting schedules. He texts you the details for the wedding, stressing the need to dress to impress and tries to offer you money to buy dresses but you refuse vehemently saying there’s no need. 

You have a friend with the classiest, sluttiest closet you've ever known: Nami. 

She, however, forces you to buy new lingerie to go with the dresses because there's no way you can wear satin with granny panties underneath. Only sultry lace. You almost think you got away with not telling her who your date for the wedding would be, but you bump into Kaya and Usopp, and learn that Law informed Kaya of his absence because of a wedding he's going to attend. 

Nami can add two and two. 

And she does it in front of Kaya and Usopp which renders the rest of your afternoon useless while you are teased relentlessly. 

On the plus side, Nami's dresses are really beautiful, fit you perfectly and you both find the perfect colours to complement your complexion. You pack extra dresses, just in case. 

And extra panties. 

Law tells you that you're to leave Friday morning because you have to be at the Donquixote household in the afternoon and the drive to the city still takes a while - you manage to do extra hours at work on Thursday to compensate for your absence. You'll sleep there for three nights, the rehearsal dinner is on Saturday, the wedding and reception are on Sunday, and then you’ll come back Monday morning - you'll compensate for those hours on Tuesday. 

That means you'll spend about four days pretending to be Law's girlfriend. 

After the heated moment you had while practising, you're feeling both apprehensive and excited about the prospect. You've had a taste of what he's been telling you, how rewarding it can be to let go of your control, to let someone else take over. It felt good, freeing and so pleasurable. 

And he barely even showed you the tip of the iceberg. 

You're aching for more of his relentless teasing, you're pretty sure you can kiss him faster this time. You just want to taste him again. 

Sighing, you decide to finish packing. It's going to be a long weekend. As you take the dresses out of the bag Nami put them in, your eyes widen at the unexpected surprise she left there. 

A box of condoms. 

Sneaky Nami. Does she think she's witty and funny? 

Joke's on her, you're taking them anyway! 

Deep down, you're hoping you get to use them.

-*-

Law greets you normally from inside the car, as if nothing happened and he wasn't probing your throat with his tongue earlier this week. 

You, on the other hand, immediately lose it at the sight of his smirk. 

Fuck. He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He knows he's got you wrapped around his little finger. And that's why you're not going to make this easy on him. 

“Hi.”

You exclaim tensely as you approach the car, already struggling to figure out how to open the door to his sleek, black Tesla. Yet, Law doesn't give you any time to make a fool of yourself as he gets out of the car and opens the door for you. You can't help but notice how casual and sexy he looks. Black jeans and a yellow t-shirt, paired with expensive sunglasses that fit him like he’s a movie star - that's the whole look, and it drives you crazy. 

He sees you checking him out, so he leans in and places a soft kiss on your cheek as his hand grips your waist, pulling you towards him. “Hi, sweetheart, you look gorgeous.”

Freezing in place, you feel your cheeks burning from the intimacy of his greeting. Your father watches you both from the porch, coffee mug in hand and a silly grin on his face. 

“How are you doing, Mr. S.?” Law's eyes barely leave yours, an amused glint making them twinkle and sparkle. 

“Oh, I'm mighty fine! I'm greatly enjoying the show!” Shanks replies, his shit-eating grin still in place and you already regret sharing with him what you were doing this weekend. Truth be told, you didn't exactly tell him you were going as Law's girlfriend, you just said you were going as his date, in a friendly manner, so Law could avoid his uncle. But after the way the doctor greeted you, you're sure your father now firmly believes there's more than friendship between you. 

You mumble curses at both men as Law lets go of you to place your bags in the trunk of the car. Then he lays your dresses neatly in the backseat, near his suits, so they don't wrinkle too much. 

“Bug, be careful!” Shanks admonishes from the porch. 

“Yes, yes, I will! Call if you need anything.” You say, mostly out of habit more than anything else, because your father would be much better off calling Ace or Beckman if he needed immediate assistance since you'll be far away. 

“I won't. Have fun!” You wave him goodbye as you enter the car and Law closes your door, but you watch as his grin widens. “Law, take care of my baby girl, will you?”

Law then closes the backdoor of the car and chuckles. “Sure will, Mr. S.” He waves and enters the car, taking his seat and burning you with his amber gaze and sexy smirk. His hand lands on your exposed thigh and he squeezes softly. “I'll take good care of her.” He whispers, earning a muffled gasp as you purse your lips to contain the incriminating sound. 

As he chuckles again, fastens his seat belt, and inputs the new destination into the GPS, you take a deep breath, steadying your heart rate. You're determined to not let him hold the same control over you as he did the other day. 

Very determined.

But as he backs the car away, completely disregarding the cameras on the dash and placing his tattooed bare arm behind your seat to look back - dark, tinted sunglasses in place and an unreadable expression - you sigh and close your eyes, your determination leaving you in a heartbeat. 

This is going to be a long ride. 

-*-

As soon as he enters the interstate, you fish out your tablet from your purse, turning it on and adjusting the brightness so you can read the screen. 

“You're really going to ignore me? Am I less interesting than all your book boyfriends?” He says, eyes fixed on the road since there's a bit of traffic. 

You try to hide a small blush by adjusting your sunglasses. He's not right. He's way more interesting than any book boyfriend. He's real. 

“I'm not going to read.” You ignore his comment, trying to steer away from every chance he gets to gain the upper hand. “I'm opening our list so we can cover the important questions that were left unanswered the other day. Since it's a long ride, we can study. And maybe make up a story about how we met and fell in love. A believable one.” You mumble. 

Law scoffs. “Again with that list. Fine, if we must.”

“We must.” You reinforce your statement. “We still haven't covered our personal stories… maybe that's important? It could come up.”

You glance at him and notice that familiar crease forming in the middle of his eyebrows. You know he moved in with his uncles at ten but you have no idea how his parents died, and that's something a girlfriend would know. You’ve shared everything about your parents and their divorce with him already, but there's still your story about Ichiji, which you're not so keen on sharing. 

He sighs deeply, his face falling into that stoic expression. “Later. Also, why do we need a love story? Isn't ours perfect?”

The tablet you're holding almost falls to the ground as your head whips to the side. “Ours? What do you mean?”

The smirk returns as his foot presses the gas and he passes two slow cars in the right lane. “You're the daughter of my surgery patient. As soon as I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. When you passed out in my office while yelling at me, I was certain. When you fumbled and made a fool of yourself just because I was examining you, I knew there was no way out of it. When your expression intensified as I called you a ‘good girl’, I was deeply ensnared. The rest came naturally. I helped your father, we got close, we fell in love.”

You're staring at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. Is this how he feels? Or is this pretence? Because the way he told the story was really believable. The thrumming of your heart is slower and steadier than when he's teasing you, something much more grounding than the usual feeling, but no less intense. 

“What do you think? Is it believable enough or should I add more details?” 

Oh… It’s not real. 

“No,” You clear your throat, “it's perfect. Everyone will buy it.”

You did. 

-*-

“There's another important thing we still haven't discussed. I don't think you covered it in your professional-looking spreadsheet.” Law says when you're taking a break from asking him questions, trying to memorise some of his answers so you don't slip up when it really matters. 

He sounds serious, so you take your eyes off your tablet to look at him. “Oh? I covered everything.” You say with a slight edge. 

Law's low chuckle is not condescending. “Yes, you covered daily things, information, wants and hopes for the future.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look you in the eyes. “You didn't cover boundaries.”

Your mind instantly takes you to the heated moment you shared when he kissed you. If you had any boundaries set then, would he still have done it? You don't want to go without his touch. 

It's far too addictive. 

“Oh. That.” 

“Yeah, that. It's important. What are your boundaries? What is off the table? Besides sex, obviously. We don't need to do it to fool anyone.” You lock your tablet, fixing your eyes on the road ahead and pondering. He's right, sex is a big boundary. But what are your other boundaries? 

“Well… I… I don't mind doing what we did in your house.” Why does your voice sound so small? 

“Speak up, sweetheart, don't be afraid to tell me what you want.” He uses that commanding tone that sends shivers down your spine and twists your stomach. 

Taking a deep breath, you steady your voice, fixing your eyes on the licence plate of the car in front of you. “I think we should kiss… because of appearances… and I like all the teasing, and the touching… I don't mind having to beg for it.” You whisper again, cheeks ablaze and heart pounding. 

“It's nothing to be ashamed of. I also like it when you say please.” Fuck. 

“Is the AC on?” You stammer and he chuckles low, setting the AC higher. 

“What else?” You open your mouth and close it a few times. This one is a little harder to get out. Law takes a look at you and smirks. “You like it when I call you ‘good girl’, right?”

Fuuuuck! The voice! It's his voice! It makes everything - better! - worse! 

“Yes!” The words leave your lips in a hurry and you take a deep breath again. Why is this so hard? 

You never had to speak about these things with Ichiji, about what you want or like. You had ‘normal’ sex where he focused on getting himself off. He didn't especially chase your pleasure, not if he wasn't in the mood for foreplay. But this conversation isn't about sex, anyway, it's about boundaries so you should focus! 

“How about touching? Where can't I touch you?”

“Erm… Below the waist?” You try, tentatively. Thinking about his hands on your body is already leaving your brain in a puddle of mush. 

“So I can't touch your legs?”

“You can!” Another blush creeps in. “And you can touch my butt too…” That sentence comes out as a mumble but he hears it. 

“So it's just your vagina I can't touch, right?” He’s amused by your embarrassment and you know it. 

“Yes, doctor.” A loud sigh leaves your lips. “How about you? Where can't I touch?” Time to turn the tables! 

“Sweetheart, you can't touch me anywhere. I'm in control, remember?” His smirk is unbearable. And unbearably hot. 

“That's not fair, Law!” 

“You're right, it’s not. But you’ll only touch me if I allow you to, if you’re being good.” He lets out another chuckle, a low rumble. “The same rules as you, then.”

“So I can’t touch your vagina?” The smirk on your lips is teasing and you both share a laugh. 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” A smirk of amusement still lingers on your lips when he asks you the next question. “So everything else is fine? What we did before? The teasing, the touching?” He asks one more time.

“Yes. All of that is fine.” It’s welcomed, even. “Should we… should we save these interactions for when we’re n public?”

“I don’t think we can very well do that in public.” He teases.

“You’re right. Maybe when we feel like it?” You have to admit you relished in the complete surrender of control you experienced the other day. You see yourself getting slowly addicted to that feeling. “I've been thinking and what you did the other day soothed me… I wouldn't mind exploring that… Besides, I think whatever interaction that serves to deepen our pretence is…” Needed, desired, wanted! “Beneficial to our act.”

“Oh.” He sounds surprised. “You want to be spontaneous? Where is your need to control every little situation?”

Your hands fidget with the hem of your dress, straightening it and then picking at a thread as your mind wanders. You’re trying to let go, like he said. Trying to surrender. Trying to let him help you do that. But you don’t quite know how to answer him. You want his help, but you don’t want to impose. You don’t want to force him to help you. Does that even make sense?

You feel it even before you see it. Law’s hand sits on your leg, a bit above the knee and he squeezes. “It’s alright. One step at a time. There’s no rush.”

-*-

The ride keeps going at a steady pace, you fill in the blanks of some seemingly unimportant questions like: ‘when was your first kiss, and with whom?’ or ‘do you want to have kids?’ Meaningless stuff normal couples would talk about. Law gets tired of the questions pretty quickly and just as the GPS indicates that you're about halfway to your destination, he drives the car to a rest area so he can stretch his legs and asks you if you want some coffee. 

You couldn't agree more. Your legs feel stiff and your butt aches. 

Law puts the car in the fast charger as you both head inside to grab some coffee and use the restroom. Neither of you wants to sit down again, but, conveniently, there are trees surrounding the whole rest area and there's a path connecting the entirety of it, so you both decide to walk it, to pass the time and stretch your legs. 

After a few moments, you try again. “About our pasts, Law, as my boyfriend I would have told you all about my ex…” You decide to start, since talking about his parents’ death must be very hard for him. 

He nods and glances at you so you know he's listening. “We were together for around four years, having moved in together after one year of dating. He proposed to me last year and we were already planning the wedding, it was pretty serious and I genuinely thought I was in love. He's the son of a very powerful man and I worked for his father at a very prestigious company.” Ichiji's name is at the tip of your tongue, you could just say it. But you're certain Law knows who he is and maybe that's a bit more information than you're willing to share right now. Talking about an anonymous asshole beats talking about someone he can picture doing terrible things to you. 

Taking a deep steadying breath after a small sip of coffee, grounds you as you continue, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet lending you some sort of comfort. “I found out he was cheating on me and a little research proved he had always been cheating on me, since the beginning, I was just too blind to see it. He was manipulative, controlling and a bit possessive - all in terrible, demeaning and very dangerous ways. He made me feel like it was my fault that he cheated, that I wasn't good enough for him, that I would never be good enough for anybody. Instead of feeling safe around him, I always felt on edge, it was… it was unbearable.”

You don't even realise that you’ve stopped on the path, your eyes fixed somewhere else, not focused on anything. The pain from the past still manages to hinder and hurt you. It's Law's touch that brings you back. His hand on your waist, pulling you to him helps you remove yourself from those hurtful events. He leans his head to your ear and whispers, his breath hot against your shivering skin. 

“If this were real, I would make you forget all about that asshole.” His fingers dip against your skin and he grits his teeth. “There's nothing I can do about him now, but I can help you overcome the pain.” You nod slowly, your mind hazy as to what's real or not. “If this were real, I would never make you feel like that. You'd be all I have ever wanted. I would make you see that you're more than enough, that you're everything.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the intensity of his voice as you feel the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes. Your mind is reeling and your heart is racing again. This is too confusing. 

“Law,” you whisper, blinking and taking a small step back but not pulling away from his grasp. “We need some sort of signal, some way to know we're faking or being real. It's too much. I can't handle this, I need a semblance of control.”

He grunts, pulling away from you as his fingers tousle his black hair and you both resume your walk. “You're right.”

“Should it be verbal? Like a safe word? Or something physical?” 

“Verbal might be too obvious. Doflamingo is very sharp. We have to use something physical. Not too conspicuous, something of meaning to both of us.” Law looks at you, trying to come up with something. “Do you always wear earrings?” 

He eyes your ears, you currently have small hoops on - quite similar to the ones he's wearing. “Usually, yes. I can wear them all weekend, I have different ones to go with the dresses.”

“Okay.” He says as he stops, making you stop too. Then he takes a step closer to you, his hand raising near your ear. “When I'm faking it, I'll start with this.” His fingers touch your ear, twirling your earring as his lips curve upwards. “And then I'll do whatever action I was going to do to pretend. You can do the same to me, I won't take off my earrings either.”

You nod as he drops his hand and you raise yours, to give it a try. Your eyes pierce his and his amber gaze is quite soft. Softer than you've ever seen him. Could it be because of what you shared about Ichiji? Your fingers graze his ear and you notice the way his jaw clenches at the touch. 

You haven't touched him like this yet. He's the one who’s been doing all the touching. You just remember feeling his taut muscles against your palms as he was kissing you senseless. But no light touches, no teasing. How will he react further? 

Your digits circle the loop of one of his earrings and, as you drop your hand, you let the tip of your nails lightly scratch his neck. He hisses with a deep inhale as he grabs your hand mid-air, to stop you. “Yes, like that. It works.”

You got under his skin. 

It's not just you who gets affected by light touches, you can bend him to your will, though you doubt very much he'll ever let you do it. 

You resume your walk, but he doesn't let go of your hand. You're too afraid to ask if it's real or fake, but since you both used the signal now, it must be fake. 

It's his turn to speak but he doesn't seem willing at all. “Law you don't have to share. Maybe it's something you don't want to say to your girlfriend, it's okay. I'm sure your own family understands how hard it is for you. I would understand too, if this were real.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze and he lets out a deep breath and a slight nod. 

Your walk continues in peaceful silence for a while. 

“Both my parents were doctors. They were wonderful parents, full of life.” The crease in the middle of his brows is there again, but so is a very tender, longing smile. “I had a younger sister, too. She was very bright and happy.”

Had? Has she passed too? You feel your heart sinking as he continues his story. 

“There was a fire, a house fire, something completely accidental. They all died. I was with uncle Cora, he and Doffy were my mother's siblings.” He stops speaking, his jaw clenches and you can feel sweat in his hand. It's the most out of control you've seen him until now and yet, he still seems collected and cool. “That's the gist of it. I moved in with my uncles and the rest is history.”

He has shared the rest with you. About how kind and amiable Cora is and how ruthless and powerful Doffy is. He doesn't seem to fear Doflamingo, it's a lingering respect. But what you sense most when he speaks of him is disgust or resentment. So you realise that he hasn't told you the whole story. There's more to learn about Trafalgar Law. Maybe not about his parents or their death - that seems pretty straightforward - but perhaps some other interactions he's had with Doflamingo while growing up. 

He doesn't share and you don't press. If he doesn't feel the need for you to know, it's because it's something he wouldn't share lightly. 

“I'm so sorry.” You mutter as you squeeze his hand again. 

A few moments pass in silence again and you discard your empty coffee cups in a trash can along the path. The car is in sight and Law's phone tells him it's fully charged so you're ready to go. 

“Oh, Law?” He stops near the car to stare at you. “How long should we say we've been dating? It's a pretty important question we need to know. And if it's true, maddening love, we need to have had some time to let it mature and-...”

“Two months. I met you around two and a half months ago. I don't need much more time than that to realise you're special and you're someone I want to be with.” He shrugs as if he's said the most natural thing in the world and opens the car door for you, waiting for you to get inside before closing it. 

You can't help but notice that he didn't touch your earrings when he said that. 

-*-

Ever since you left the freeway and the GPS timer keeps getting smaller as you approach your destination, Law has been quieter. The flirtatious, teasing demeanour he uses with you has been completely replaced by his normal stoic expression. The crease in his forehead deepens as you approach Donquixote’s household. 

You try to engage in small talk, but the only response you get are grunts and nods, so you don't press further. He blasts his music and you don't complain. It might be his way of coping. If it were you in his shoes, you know you'd be close to a panic attack by now, but he's pretty composed, considering. 

Only someone who's spent time with him, getting to know him, learning his little tells, can realise he's upset, anxious and nervous. You know his uncle will pick it up immediately. 

Law takes a deep sigh as the GPS announces the destination and stops the car in front of a large gate, near the intercom, waiting to be buzzed inside. You look at him, placing your hand on his leg because he's gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are almost white. 

“Hey, I've got you.” You mimic the words he used on you when he was operating on Shanks. His gaze softens and he breathes deeply, his shoulders relaxing a bit as the gates open wide. 

Your eyes dart around in awe. You see a grand mansion at the end of the road, but the way there is adorned with trees and flowers of all kinds. The gardens are immense and opulent. Just like the man who owns them. You peek at the top of a few tents on the back of the house, probably where the wedding reception will take place, and the gardens are buzzing with activity. Gardeners polish the last touches on the flowers, while servants make last minute preparations for the decorations. They all seem tense, as if nothing can be out of place. 

And if Doflamingo likes control as much as Law does, then there really can't be anything out of place. 

Law parks the car as you see two blonde men at the top of the steps leading to the mansion. They're huge. Law is tall, they're taller. He inhales deeply as his eyes meet yours, a glint in them, the crease still parting his brow, and then he touches your earring. “Are you ready?”

You nod and ignore the twists and turns in your stomach, the discomposed rhythm of your heart, the many scenarios in your head where everything goes wrong. Instead, you smile brightly, repeat his gesture and squeeze his hand. “Let's sell this, Law.”

He nods and gets out of the car, you're about to do the same but discover that your door has a child lock. As Law moves around the car to open the door for you, you realise that it serves this single purpose and you can't help but to blush. In four years of your relationship, not once has Ichiji held a door open for you. In less than a week of a fake relationship, Law does it constantly. 

He holds out his hand to help you out and you smile sweetly at him, unconsciously passing a hand through your hair to straighten it as you adjust your summer dress. Cora - you assume, since you know the other man is Doflamingo - runs down the steps to greet his nephew, but slips and falls spectacularly, bumping his butt on at least three steps before landing awkwardly on his knees. 

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle a gasp and Law shakes his head as he approaches his uncle. 

“Cora… come on! Again?” He admonishes as the blonde man laughs and pats his butt. 

“I'm fine, I'm fine.” Law helps him up and both men embrace. It's a long hug during which Cora whispers something to Law, who clenches his teeth and nods, hugging him back. 

It's sweet. They really care for each other. 

Then Cora sets his eyes on you, they glimmer as he lets go of Law and with one stride, he's by your side, exclaiming your name and holding you in a tight embrace. “Welcome, welcome! It's so nice to meet you! It's been a while since Law brought a girl home!”

Oh… Interesting. He didn't mention any other important relationship, in fact, when you were covering past flings, he told you he doesn't really do the girlfriend thing. He just dates, sometimes. But he apparently had an interesting relationship before. 

However, you don't act surprised. You're pretty sure Doflamingo is watching you closely, even though he doesn't make a move to come down the steps. You'll go to him. It's as if he's the King of the mansion and you're just his loyal subjects, bowing to him. 

“I'm flattered.” You smile softly as Cora steps back. “What Law and I have is special.” This was a rehearsed phrase. But you deliver it perfectly, looking lovingly at Law, who smiles back at you, his hands in his pockets and sunglasses hanging on his shirt collar. 

“I believe you!” He grabs your arm to help you up the stairs, though you sense you'll be the one keeping him from falling, and then he turns to Law and mouths - in what he thinks is a veiled whisper but is anything but that - “She's breathtaking, Law! Well done!”

Law chuckles and shakes his head at his uncle but, as soon as you're all facing Doflamingo’s inquisitive gaze, Law tenses again. Cora leaves you to join his brother's side and Law is instantly connected to you, his hand on your waist, pulling you to him. You notice his fingers digging deeper and harder than any of the times he's grabbed you, but you don't acknowledge his discomfort. 

“Well, well, well…” Doflamingo’s voice is deep, commanding and imposing and you can't help the way your hairs bristle when he lets out a low chuckle. “Hello dearest nephew… and how interesting.”

What is supposed to be interesting? You hope he hasn't recognized you from any of the Vinsmokes’ events! Maybe you should have shared with Law who your ex was. It seems like it's something he should know. There’s no point in worrying about it now! You can't let your distress show, especially because Law keeps tensing up by your side, so you have to ground him. 

“Good to meet you, sir.” You drawl, a bit embarrassed at the way his piercing gaze hasn't left you since the moment you arrived. 

“Oh,” he chuckles again and this time looks at Law, a terrifying grin showing all his teeth. “Polite.” He nods and turns back to you, slightly raising his chin to emphasise your height difference. “Good girl.” He purrs and winks. 

What?

You immediately tense up and Law squeezes your waist harder. 

“Uncle Doffy, we're really tired from the trip and the car ride. We'll retire and freshen up before dinner. Then we can get to know each other, how about that?” You can sense a slight change in the tone of Law's voice. What was commanding and assertive is now strained and measured. The crease in his forehead is deep and his scowl twists his expression. 

“But of course! Come on, come on kids! Let me take you to your room!” Cora takes over as some servants bring in your luggage. 

Law starts to walk, dragging you with him and he brushes his lips against your temple in what's supposed to be a loving gesture. His whisper is barely audible: “Relax.” You glance behind and catch Doflamingo still tilting his head. His grin is unsettling and disconcerting and, for the first time since you agreed to do this for Law, you start to doubt yourself. “Real or not, I won't let him hurt you.”

You don't know if he means physically or mentally. Either way, you're not prepared to suffer any attempt. And the way Law says that… It's like he already knows Doflamingo will do something. And that frightens you. 

Yet you take a deep breath and try to relax as Law guides you through large maze-like corridors, following Cora until you reach a big white door with golden handles. His uncle opens the door with a smile. “Ta-da!” He exclaims, opening both arms to show you the room. 

You stifle a gasp and turn it into a surprised expression. Law squeezes you tighter and smiles at his uncle. 

“It's the honeymoon suite for you two lovebirds!” He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “Well, not quite, we're not a hotel, so it's not really a honeymoon suite, it's a room with some amenities like a jacuzzi in the bathroom and privacy from the other rooms so you can… you know,” He chuckles some more, “talk as loudly as you want without being heard.”

Law groans at his uncle but a tentative chuckle escapes your lips at his attempt to lighten the mood. Your amusement is short-lived, however, as you survey the room. It might be private and away from the other rooms, but it's not that big. There's a huge bed and two cushioned armchairs, a closet, a vanity and a desk. No couch. Just one bed. For both of you. 

At least it's a big bed. 

“Thank you, Cora. We've got it from here.” Law smiles softly at his uncle and thanks the staff who brought in your luggage. When everyone leaves, he closes the door softly, leaning against it and briefly closing his eyes. 

You take a deep breath and set your purse on one of the armchairs. “Well that was intense.” 

Law's chuckle starts low and quickly turns into a groan as he looks at you. “I'm sorry, but I can guarantee you he will be much more inconvenient.”

You snort and roll your eyes. “Is that even possible?”

“Trust me, it is.”

You both laugh away the tension of the meeting and, after a brief time, as you're hanging your dresses in the closet, you speak again. “Your uncle Cora is lovely.”

Law is in the bathroom emptying his bag of products on the counter. “He's amazing. He's like a father to me.”

“I could tell.” You mutter. “What are the plans for tonight?”

Law senses the slight tremble in your voice as his head peeks from the bathroom. “Oh? Why? Do you need to rehearse everything beforehand?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you close the closet door to face him. “Considering Doflamingo is breathing down our necks, perhaps it's not a bad idea?”

“It's just a family dinner. Baby 5 will come too, along with the groom. Possibly the groomsmen, bridesmaids and some of Doffy’s associates. I bailed on the last board meeting and I'm pretty sure he'll want to bore me to death with company issues. Also, I predict that Doffy will ask personal questions while Cora will want to know if and when we'll get married and if and when we're gonna have kids.”

Law joins you in the room and you smile at him. “Cora is really sweet.” 

Raising an eyebrow, an amused glint dances in his gaze. “Should I be jealous?” His voice drops lower and a snicker curls your lip as a consequence of that. You're feeling bratty. 

“Maybe. I do like blondes.” Law grunts, reading immediately into what you're trying to do. “And he's so tall and big. I'm sure he'd make me feel small and-...” Law takes two strides, pushing you gently and pinning you against the closet door. One of his hands rests on the closet beside your head, while the other grabs your chin tightly, tilting it up so you can meet his eyes. “Weak…” You finish your sentence, cheeks already flushed and ablaze. 

Law's eyes glint with mischief, but his lips are pursed tight. He uses the hand near your head to brush your earring. 

The signal. 

“Do I have to remind you of who you belong to?” His voice drawls from his lips, his face is so close that you can feel his hot breath against your skin. 

Your fingers graze his earring lightly to use the signal, but his low hum warns you to return your hand where it was. No teasing is allowed on your part. “I was just commenting on how handsome and charming he is. I have eyes.” You know you're playing a part, you know it's fake, but you have no audience. This is for yourselves only. And you can't help the tiny sliver of anxiety tugging at your brain, telling you to keep pushing. Push enough so you can let go. 

So you can surrender. You need to surrender.

Law's eyes darken as he presses his body closer to you. You can feel his heat  against you, but the fire in his eyes burns ten times hotter. 

“You do, but they have to be on me all the time. You don't want to misbehave, do you, sweetheart?” His lips brush the skin of your collarbone, the hand on your chin tilts your head to the side as he nibbles your jaw, his tongue wet and teasing. 

Fuck. This is what you wanted, right? Now you have to deal with it. 

“You know what happens to bad girls?” His hand lowers as he traces down the middle of your breasts, trailing to your belly, dropping down some more - so close to where you want him, but you know he won’t touch - and then settles on your hip. 

“What?” You whisper, dying to know, anticipation making you tremble and shiver. 

Or is it his touch that's doing that? 

“They don't get what they want.” His teeth graze your earlobe. “They don't get what they need.” His hand raises your dress, fingers curling the fabric as his palm settles against your thigh, eliciting a choked moan from your lips. “They don't get what they crave.” His lips hover yours and you lean forward to capture them but he moves his head back, tutting you in a disapproving manner. 

“No, no, sweetheart. No kiss for you. You're being a brat.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you squirm and press your thighs together. There's a fire burning in your belly that needs to be put out; a devastating thirst that needs quenching. 

“I can beg, Law. I can be a good girl.”

Fuck, where did this come from? 

The sound he makes is half-grunt, half-growl and it reverberates through his chest, making you gasp as you grab his neck, trying to pull him in for a kiss, trying to erase what your mouth said that your brain doesn't want to acknowledge. However, Law is faster, and stronger. His hands grab yours, pinning them above your head. One big hand of his is enough to hold your wrists, and he's barely using his strength. 

He shows you that slightly unhinged grin of his and you mewl at the sight, biting your lower lip. That grin right there, you realise, it's your favourite. “You say one thing sweetheart, and then you do another. We can't have that, can we?”

You shake your head, your eyes pleading for your mouth. Law's free hand returns to your side, he lowers it tantalisingly slowly as his thumb brushes circles on your dress, but his fingers burn so much that it's like they're pressing directly on your skin. 

“I told you that bad girls don't get rewarded.” He practically purrs against your ear. He does something sinful with his tongue on your earlobe and you close your eyes in abandon, arching your back and giving way to a wanton moan. His hand clenches your wrists tighter as his unholy tongue continues to tease you. He licks your neck and collarbone, then goes lower towards your cleavage. You can't stop the pants and gasps that escape your lips, making you tremble. 

There's a pressing need in your core screaming to be filled, or touched, or teased. Something, anything! But he's adamant about not fulfilling that need. 

“I promise I'll be good, Law.” You whisper. “Just…” Touch me. “Kiss me. Please!”

His lips hover over yours as he slots his knee between your legs. You fight the urge to ride his thigh, to grind your core against his taut muscles. You're pretty sure you could come undone from just that. “Is this what you want?” His breath is hot against your lips, his lips barely grazing yours. 

But now you know better than to push your luck. You stay still, your eyes nearly watering from the throbbing need. 

“Yes! Please.” Your whisper sounds like a prayer, but he's a relentless deity and shows it by pulling back, a smirk curling his lips. 

“You don't deserve it, sweetheart. You misbehaved. I warned you.” How can he be this cool and collected while you're falling apart? A mess of quivering bones and frail muscles? His hand grabs the back of your thigh, lifting your leg easily and slotting himself against you, giving you a taste, a sliver of the friction you want - need! “Bad girls are left wanting more.”

He presses further, his hand still groping the back of your thigh, fingers spreading over it. Your mind goes blank. You can feel his length pressed against you, you didn't think he'd do it, is this pushing your boundaries? He’s not touching you. And you want him there! Besides, this is fake. 

Right? 

But he's doing it. And you desperately want more. 

“Bad girls get teased until they can't take it any more.” He bites your lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough to jolt you and shake your senses. “If this were real, sweetheart,” he begins, his voice huskier and raspier than ever, needier even, it seems. “I would bend you to my will and have you on the brink of exhaustion, pleads and prayers escaping your lips in mewls and moans, before I took you right here, against this closet, until you begged for release between screams and cries of desperation.”

The image he paints is so real that you almost feel yourself snap, the coil within you starts to unravel as he presses just a bit further, his lips hovering just above yours, his fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs. 

“But this is not real, and you've been a very good girl so far.” As his lips finally crash against yours, a soft thrust of his hip pushes him against your clothed clit. The friction of the seams on his jeans hits you just right, and you snap without any kind of warning.

Your back arches and you moan into his kiss like never before as your body clenches and squirms, your leg wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. A freeing, warm sensation fills you, building like a flame, higher and higher and he takes it all. His tongue slides against yours, swallowing your moans as if he needs them to breathe. His hands grip you tight and he's still pressed flush against you. 

It's all too much. 

It's not enough. 

And it's over too soon. 

He parts the kiss and you're both left panting. Law doesn't meet your gaze as he removes his hands and composes your dress, pulling back slightly, while ensuring you can stand on your own. Clearly he overdid what he meant to do. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, worry lacing his words as you struggle to catch your breath. You should feel embarrassed. You’re in a fake relationship and yet, here you stand, in post-orgasmic bliss wondering if he regrets what just happened. But you’re not ashamed, far from it. You feel free. 

“Yes.” Your voice still comes out in shaky gasps, but your legs - though wobbly - manage to sustain you. 

Law nods and clears his throat. “I'm… I'm going to take a shower, to get ready for dinner. Unless you want to go first?”

“No, no. You go. I… I need to choose what I’ll wear first and-... you go.”

He nods, turning away from you, walking towards the bathroom, his pace more erratic than usual. 

What just happened?

|Chapter 6🔞|

[stevesbipanic]

"It's just a weekend trip." Steve tries to remind himself as he watches Eddie's van drive away.

Eddie's band got a gig in Indy for two nights and Eddie looked so excited and Steve would've gone too but he had an really shift Sunday morning and after all, "It's just a weekend trip."

Eddie calls of course the moment they get settled at Jeff's cousin's apartment. Steve can hear his smile through the phone and picture it clearly in his mind. He can hear the others teasing Eddie in the background, classic fake kissing sounds from the other boys.

"I'll be home before you know it, sweetheart."

"Yeah, it's just a weekend trip."

Eddie is back in his trailer happy and smiling ready to tell Steve everything that happened by the time he's back from his shift two days later. Just a weekend trip.

Except it wasn't.

"You're going again?"

"Yeah just for the weekend, no biggy."

"Right, just a weekend trip." I was the fourth in six weeks.

Eddie wasn't in Steve's bed by Sunday night and there was a voicemail left on the machine.

"Sorry sweetheart,"

"Sorry Steven,"

"They want us to play a couple more shows this week."

"Your father has a few more meetings to go to."

"This could be really great for the band though!"

"It's going to be great for the business."

"I'll be back soon."

"We'll be back soon."

"Love you!"

"Goodnight Steven."

He's back by Wednesday night. He looks so excited, Steve wants to be too.

"Are you going next weekend?"

"Of course not, that's your birthday baby, can't miss that."

"Course not." See it's fine Eddie isn't them, he's different, he loves Steve.

"I've just gotta go for a meeting in the morning sweetheart I'll be back by the end of your shift you won't even notice, then we'll have cake and I'll make you dinner which will be burnt but burnt with love Stevie!"

It's easy to get swept up in it, to take the kiss on the cheek and the wave goodbye and the promise of later.

There's a leftover slice of cake in the fridge when he gets the call.

"Hey, sweetheart I'm so sorry I missed your birthday, the fucking van carked it a mile outta Indy, I'll be there when you wake up ok? I love you."

"Love you too Eds."

It's easy to accept the excuses because they're easy, the van breaks all the time, Eddie's band is getting more shows, just one more weekend, just one more night.

There's boxes scattered around the trailer.

"Going on a trip?"

"Three months."

The Harringtons last three month trip was four years ago, Steve wonders if they even remember the house phone number.

"It's just three months."

Steve can feel the end is standing in front of him. He wants to freeze this moment, he wants to hug Eddie and he wants to tell him he'll see him Sunday night and he wants to get excited hearing about Jeff tripping in a wire and he wants Eddie to stay and he wants Eddie to go and he wants this moment to just freeze and never end.

He wants his parents to choose to stay in Hawkins and not miss his birthday or graduation or hospital trips and he wants his mom to have kissed his cheek goodbye or his dad to at least wave, he wants one more phone call of we'll be home soon.

"I won't go if you don't want me to and if you want me to go I've gotta have you there, Stevie."

Steve feels his heartbeat stop.

"What?"

"I don't want to miss your birthday ever again, sweetheart, I don't want to come home and you're already asleep, I want you there or me here no more it's just one trip. I don't want to be your parents, Stevie."

Slowly, Steve's heart starts beating again, and the moment doesn't have to end.

[bloodyinkandquill]

Ban Hammer x Reader

it is two am, istg do not write on this until the morning me, i will hate you i have to be up in five hours let’s go to bed

ok i didn’t write this but i did stay up another hour and a half listening to a true crime podcast so…

- You’d think dating a 6’11 demigod who owns the most secure prison in Inpherno would not be on someone’s to-do list, but for you it was different, you knew him more than just the fearsome warden, to you he was your lover and honestly, a bit of a big softy

- Ban Hammer was big, he knew that, really strong too, so he was more than just a little afraid of hurting you, especially if he had his big and sharp armor on, he liked being physically affectionate, but he did worry about hurting you, so he’d wait until he’d taken off his armor you hug you, which did sort of feel like being swallowed whole since he’s such a large man, but it felt safe and warm so you never minded it

- He was gruff and tough but after a long day he enjoyed just laying face down the couch as you stroked his head pulling it to rest on your lap, he’d just lie there as you tried to convince him to get up, take off his armor, get some water, etc, he’d grumble about it but eventually get up

- Hope you like golf, he loves taking you to go golf, he’d never admit this but it’s mostly because when he does good you tell him how great of a shot he was and other junk like that and he enjoyed the praise, if you didn’t like golf he wouldn’t mind you sitting back as long as you were there together, and you were paying attention to him, he may be your boyfriend but he’s very clingy like a puppy, he also loved receiving praise from you, he already thinks very highly of himself but hearing you say those things feels even better to him

- He’d probably take you on very fancy dinner dates, to those really nice restaurants, though you have to make the reservations because he can be a little high strung and will demand certain things like a good seat, or a discount, so to avoid him getting mad at some poor waitress you make them for the both of you

- Like mentioned he’s super cuddly and snuggly, he loves just holding you as he sleeps, or sitting very close to you to the point he’s practically on top of you, you sometimes have to tell him that’s he’s crushing you, he moves immediately and feels bad, you tell him it’s fine but how about you sit on him instead

- Unironically uses sorta cheesy pet names, you’d expect him to be more creative with it but I feel like he’d use ‘baby, babe, sweetheart, etc’ though something funny he does is he has his voice and then his warden voice, loud and commanding to demand respect and fear, sometimes he forgets to turn it off when he gets home so he gets home and says in a gruff unamused voice ‘babe i’m home!’ to the point it sounds sorta angry, you crack up and he clears his throat before saying it snot that funny, as you’re doubling over in laughter

- The first time you met Windforce was terrifying, he loved you but he loved his mom more, if she said she didn’t like you that would be it, and if you pissed her off you feared her wrath, luckily she thought you were fine, obviously she has a distaste for mortals but you make her boy happy so she puts up with you, maybe not fully liking you but she doesn’t mind you, as long as you don’t annoy her she doesn’t care

- Thought meeting Windforce was scary? One time Ban Hammer said his whole family was having a dinner party, Firebrand organized it trying to keep the family all together and connected, and Ban Hammer wanted to bring you to meet all his uncles and few cousins, you didn’t wanna say no but holy shit you were terrified, you were about to meet literally the entirety of the SFotH, which was definitely intimidating, luckily they all at the very least didn’t dislike you, and you got to meet Flipside which was cool, but holy shit when you go home you let out the biggest breath ever since you were so on edge the whole time

hope you enjoyed! had fun writing it and thinking of all this junk, anyways до свидания!

[cloveroctobers]

GRANDMA’S HOUSE — ARMANDO ARETAS x BLACK! READER [Summer Randoms]

A/N: this was honestly inspired by typical family functions + a vid I saw on Instagram (possibly belonging to Tiktok) where we all have that universal experience where we spend the night at grandma’s lol.

SYNOPSIS: your grandmother’s always been in your business, you had a good job? Great! That job got on your nerves? Just be thankful that you have a job when there’s plenty that can’t even find one. You finally moved out of your parent’s house? Good for you, it’s about damn time. Now when you upgraded even more, hearing that you have finally got yourself a boyfriend after being single for only the lord knows how long…she opens up her home for you and Armando to crash instead of spending money (you both had it) out of the kindness of her heart—mostly.

<- read my previous anthology piece here.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Your grandmother smelled like fresh baked cookies with a hint of peppermint, Armando thinks as the smaller woman embraces him at the front door. The ranch styled house is more fitting than the coastal one she offered you two to stay in last summer out in The Hamptons. From what Armando’s learned about the elderly woman is that she may have the sweetest face but her lip was more deadly than anything. He would have never guessed that Granny Bessie would ever want to be bothered with the folks out there but it was evident that she held her own.

He shouldn’t have suspected anything less.

“Oh you’re so handsome,” Granny Bessie pats Armando’s cheek before staring up at his hair, “You got Indian in you? Looking like you got that Arabian grade of hair.”

Armando casted a glance at you who deeply sighed at the slight ignorance in the entry way of the home. He kept a smile on his face, finding this humorous more than anything, “No, ma’am. I’m Hispanic: Mexican…and black. I used to get Guyanese all the time though.”

The woman nods in agreement as she waves him into the home, “I thought your daddy was coming too?”

Armando inhaled at the mention of the man, who your granny had no issue inviting to her home as well for the upcoming festivities, “Detective Lowrey’s flight got delayed, probably won’t be here until early morning.”

The woman raised a brow at Armando as she closes the door behind him, “You call your father by his profession?”

“Well he hasn’t been much of a father so, yeah.”

“Hold on now, that’s still your blood—

“Granny! How’s the garden been treating you?”

“Oh, It’s flourishin’, baby.” She grins as you slip an arm across her shoulders and sent an apologetic look at your boyfriend, “your cousin Saleema and I went out to the Lowe’s and picked up a bunch of flowers. She helped me plant half of them but I know you’ll help me do the rest.”

She had a whole lot planned it seemed, considering you two came up for a couple of days for the upcoming family reunion at her house. You honestly thought about not attending, since you didn’t feel like socializing with half of your father’s side (1. they were either in your business to make sure you weren’t doing better than them—it wasn’t a competition in the first place but apparently it was in their eyes, 2. acted like they didn’t know you and expected you to roll out the red carpet for them—meaning if you didn’t speak to them first then that automatically became a problem, or 3. simply weren’t wrapped too tight in the head) but pushed through it since your granny got sensitive about not seeing her grand babies as often now that you were all adults.

Armando chuckled to himself at that, you knew your granny would bring this up since your cousin wouldn’t stop boasting about their outing in the: first cousins group chat. Saleema was older, just touched forty and was single living in her condo with her funny looking cat. She was always your granny’s favorite—perhaps it had to do with her being the first grandchild since your aunt had her young—although Saleema was a true hell raiser throughout her teenage and college years apparently, she hardly got shit on out of the grandchildren and it showed.

“Sure thing…anything you want me to help with on the inside first? You know I’m not built for this type of heat.” You whistled, fanning at the back of your neck after swiping some of the braids to your boho Bob to the side.

Granny Bessie scoffs, “stop that lyin’ baby, you chose to live out there with them gators and those strange Florida folks so you have to be built for some of it.”

Armando laughs as he follows you two into the living room, spotting old photos of: Granny Bessie during her bowling tournaments with her voluminous hair, various of family members, and childhood photos of yourself and many more cousins from previous family reunions.

“Oh you should see her Granny.” Armando speaks up after putting a picture back above the piano, “I think she got bougie on you, she even walks outside with umbrellas.”

Not this man snitching on you?

Granny side eyes you, hand still latched on your waist, “…you not one of them demonic people now are you?”

Now it was your turn to send a dark stare to Armando, who bit down on his bottom lip trying to hide his laughter. He knew what he had started, knowing that your grandmother was religious and always had something to say about other aesthetics? The goths and the emos received no love from Granny Bessie.

“No, grandma!”

You only ever called her by that to show that you were serious.

“Good,” she states with a pat to your hip before adding, “you haven’t contracted high blood pressure yet have you? I just knew it would hit you like it hit your father and me.”

Shaking your head you reply, “Nope, still dealing with low blood pressure actually.”

“That’s why I told you to up your vitamins and eat better foods. Good thing you’re here with me for a few days, I’ll send you on your way brand new,” she dusts her hands off with a clap, “your doctor will be thanking me.”

“As he should, granny Bessie knows all!” You rested your head against the shorter woman.

“Damn straight, now y’all come on in here and get you something to eat.” The elderly woman with the Mother Nature braids waves you two along.

Armando starts to squeeze his way by at the news of eating, hands rubbing together in excitement as his stomach rumbled before he steps to the side to continue letting you two go ahead.

“…ah a gentleman! I think I like him so far.” Granny Bessie whispers up at you, carrying into the kitchen.

It was 7pm by the time Granny Bessie was packing it up and getting ready for bed. She made the arrangements, sticking Armando in the back room while it left herself and you on opposite sides of the home. She of course let the home be open to you two but you knew not to stay up too late since the woman liked to be up early and active. Granny Bessie was in her seventies and still moved quickly even when her Arthritis was acting up. Everyone told her to slow down but granny Bessie has proven that she was always going to what she damn well wanted to.

Which definitely stood when she sent her last warning to you two of where you two would be sleeping for the night.

The both of you stood at the entry way of the ranch home, lips attached and battling each others as Armando swung you towards the wall, hand going to your waist then down the side of your ass to hook your leg over his hip.

“You said Granny Bessie was a snorer didn’t you?” Armando breathed against your neck.

You nod as you lick your lips, “yeah but she’s still a light sleeper and I’m not in the mood to get cussed out when we get caught.”

“When?” Armando quirked up his brows to look up at you, “All you have to do is keep quiet, mami.”

“And you think you’re going to help me do that?” You question while Armando thinks about it, “Yeah no.”

You pecked his lips while running your fingers over his facial hair, “just call me on FaceTime if the night gets too bad.”

For as long as you’ve been dating Armando, you weren’t completely oblivious. You knew that he didn’t adapt well to new spaces and it only got worse at night. The nightmares kept him up and anxiety was a bitch, he was trying to get through it on his own and even tried to hide it from you plenty of times before he moved in but there wouldn’t be any secrets in your relationship.

And you wouldn’t disrespect your granny’s home—never did and never will.

“Alright,” Armando sighed as he kissed your forehead, “better keep your phone charged, we both know how you are.”

You scowl as he pushes the creaking door back that led down the narrow hallway, “that was only a few times and I had valid reasons.”

“Uh huh,” Armando holds his hand out back for you to interlock your fingers before stopping in the middle of the hallway, “…goodnight baby.”

“Sleep tight, don’t let the dolls bite.”

Armando halts at kissing the back of your hand as he steps towards you, head dipped as he quizzes with a soft whisper, “…what fucken dolls?”

You’re trying to silence your cackling at the deadpan angle of Armando’s face on your phone screen as you settle into bed. There’s no cable in this room so you’re stuck leaving the tv on some court show that’ll help you fall asleep. It only took maybe a minute or two for Armando to start calling you, you on your side and arms tucked underneath the comfy blankets that made you feel like you were back in your childhood.

Granny Bessie had all sorts of trinkets decorating the dresser drawer by the side of the door and you had to remind yourself that if you needed to get up during the night to not stub your toe.

“It’s not that bad is it?” You ask while Armando just simply blinks at you, which said enough.

Eventually you’re the one that falls asleep on Armando although you promise that you wouldn’t. He knew that was a lost cause after you decided to shut the tv off, welcoming the pitch black and snuggle deeper into the sheets without him. You were closer to the opposite end of the hallway with your granny right across the hall but her bed sat deep in her own room yet that didn’t stop you from hearing her lawn mowing snores. You even popped an earphone in one ear to drawn out the noise and just enjoyed the company of your man on charge.

He ends up falling asleep after you but it takes him much longer, browsing social media, checking up on his side business, ignoring a text from Marcus, and simply sending a thumbs up to Mike’s text that he was finally boarding. Armando managed to keep himself busy, fighting the urge to snatch up all the weird looking dolls, rip their heads off and shove them in the closet.

He guessed this was a thing with Grandma’s having obsessions with odd items?

He makes sure his own phone in on charge, bringing it back to the FaceTime call of your closed eyes before completely covering his head underneath the covers then dozed off himself.

That doesn’t last long being woken up out of his sleep. There’s a loud booming noise in the distance and he’s tempted to find his piece just to make sure no one was breaking in. Granny Bessie had an alarm system and that didn’t seem to be going off but that didn’t stop Armando from sitting up in bed. He looks at the dolls and it suddenly feels as if their soulless eyes are still watching him.

He tossed the covers back, feet on the carpet, eyes finding a random blue light that he couldn’t find the source of as he passed by the edge of the bed. This room was suffocating and he feels like he’s been sweating underneath the sheets. The house was cool before the both of you went to bed and now it felt like being inside of a sauna.

Armando pulls the door back, peeking out into the abyss of a hallway and he just hopes there’s no one else in the house but you three. Leaving the door open a crack he moves back into the bedroom to grab his phone to use the flashlight since he can’t remember where exactly the hallway light is.

The floor creaks underneath his feet as he moves from the back of the house. As he gets to the middle of the hallway, he picks up on Granny Bessie’s snoring and stops at your room. His fingers rack against the door and he gets no response so he moves forth with twisting the door knob. Your back is to the door now, phone abandoned on the floor but still charging.

He picks it up for you and steps back out.

Armando lets you sleep, heading towards the front of the house. He’s in the entry way and the home feels much bigger in the dark, more eerie but knows he’ll find comfort in the dining room or kitchen—where the snacks are.

It’s 3 in the morning when you get the violent urge to use the bathroom. You try to fight it but the pressure in your belly isn’t pleasant so you throw the covers back in annoyance. It was your own fault chugging that ice cold water before you started making out with Armando but you didn’t need to acknowledge that. Shoving your fuzzy socks on, you pull the door open and head out into the dark hallway. Eyes half lidded as you use the wall for guidance to the bathroom, your head turns to the left to see the hallway door is left open just a crack but you carry into the bathroom.

Leaning against the door after doing your business, you feel a pull to head out into the main areas of the home. You see a light from the right of the dining room and walk through the sitting room towards it. Turning to the right you spot Armando immediately, snacking as you plop down beside him in another chair.

Balling your arms up on the table, you rest your head against them as you ask, “Can’t sleep?”

“You didn’t hear that big ass noise?” He says around the dried fruit he’s chewing on, “Sounded like a whole bomb.”

You hum, “yeah we’re near the military base…I thought I mentioned that.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“My grandad was a vet. They moved here in the early 2000’s, it’s a whole community.” You yawn.

Armando shakes his head, “that sounds like nothing but triggers. I don’t know if that’s worst or the creepy ass dolls following me with their laser blue beams as I snuck out of the room.”

Frowning you sigh, “did you take an edible before bed?”

Armando feels his eye twitch, “no I didn’t take a fucken edible—I’m for real. Is this supposed to be normal? The dolls? The random lights? The bombs? The clicking and buzzing?”

You shrug, “…I didn’t hear any of that…or maybe I just learned to tune it out.”

“I see you didn’t get the light sleeping from your granny then.” Armando mumbles while you snort, moving one arm to latch onto his wrist.

Slowly lifting your head you say, “…well we can’t stay out here for the rest of the morning. Granny gets up at six and probably will let us rest until eight if we’re lucky so…”

Waking up early had no effect on Armando since he barely slept anyways. He already scoped out the area once the two of you got closer to Granny’s home from the airport for a good workout.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Working out with Armando in the gym was a death sentence and you’ll be damned if you do it out in this heat too? You rather go to hell in a pretty hand basket and Armando was willing to take you there honestly.

No pain, no gain.

*Cue the eye roll*

“That’s cool,” Armando shrugged, “but I’m not goin’ back in that room.”

Sitting back against the chair you huff, “fine you big baby…set the timer to 5:45 so you can go back to your room. Don’t think she won’t check once she’s up for the day.”

Armando scowls as you scrape back from the kitchen table, reaching over to slap your backside, “I’ll show you a baby if you keep getting smart.”

Rubbing the sting on your back side, you fan your hand back at him, which he snatched to hold while setting a timer as you both make your way to the hallway. Too tired to give him any lip, you were just ready to get back into bed and cuddling with your man didn’t hurt.

Your back is to Armando, he tucks himself right into you, feet intertwined, his hairy legs prickling your shaven ones, chin buried into the space of your neck and shoulder while cradling your stomach.

“…how long were your grandparents together?”

You heard him but take a minute to respond as you fight sleep, “They’ve been married since the early 60s…all the way up until pa’s passing in 2019.”

Armando breathes you in, “how’d they do it for so long?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask Granny but they were everything good you can imagine—nothings perfect but they felt like it you know?”

“…Think he was used to all the noises here?”

You snort, “he’s always been a night owl so if any of us couldn’t sleep, he was always up in the living room in his chair, eating that a disgusting banana ice cream just waiting for any of us to talk. If we had a nightmare, he’d do anything to make us laugh until we forgot it.”

“Sounds like a special man.”

“He was.”

“…I want that you know? With you. The kids and the gran’s. The creaks and the strange, a loving home. A place where anybody can stay and feel like life’s worth revisiting, like it was nothing but a breeze once you see who you’re surrounded by. A less lonely life.”

You shuffle to face him now, resting your head underneath his chin, not finding this conversation to be new. Most nights when Armando couldn’t sleep, he would ramble about what a future could look like with you.

It warmed your heart just as much as how warm your granny kept the back of the house.

“Then let’s do it.” You mumble into the night as Armando squeezes you, placing a kiss right on top of your bonnet.

That sealed the deal.

“Morning, dear. How did you sleep?” Granny Bessie asks with a mug of coffee as Armando makes his presence known.

Armando glances at you who sips at your own mug with a hidden small smile, “Good. Thanks, Granny Bessie. I’m actually about to head out for my daily run…would you like to join us?”

That gets you to cast a glance at the man over your shoulder who softly squeezes your shoulders with a grin, “us?” You whisper.

Granny Bessie laughs, “oh no. I need to tend to some things around the house but make sure you eat something because the heat will rise by the time you’re out there. Also did you speak to your daddy about what time we should be expecting him?”

“He probably should have landed by now.” Armando shrugs, trying to ignore the feeling that he felt when Granny Bessie labeled the man as such.

You say, “He texted me about twenty minutes ago. He was heading to baggage claim, maybe in the next hour he should be here.”

“Alright, well you two best be going and stay away from the houses from the next two streets over…nothing but confederates on that side.”

The woman wags her finger in warning.

Armando nods, “Thanks Granny,” he pops a red grape into his mouth, “these are delicious.”

“Take as much as you want, darling.” The woman squeezes his elbow on her way by, “Now I’m going to go get fully ready for Mr. Lowrey.”

Frowning you ask, “now what do you mean by that granny?”

“Just that I need to be presentable in my own home.”

“Uh huh. I know you’ve been on Facebook and know what Mike looks like.”

“I am a woman of God, do not sass me.”

Armando snickers while you raise your hands in surrender, finishing off your morning juice.

“I see you Granny Bessie.” Armando teases while the woman fans her hands at him.

“Hush! Don’t make my bad list, Herman.”

You gently reminded, “It’s Armando, granny.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay! love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” She grins.

As you’re locking up the screen door, you and Armando walk around the path to the driveway to exit the home. He silently stops you, encouraging you to stretch while you send him an unimpressed look.

Armando was lucky you didn’t go into hiding around the house and shouldn’t be so bossy but you knew better.

“When did Granny see a pic of Mike?”

You switch to bending to the other toe, “when she wanted to see a picture of you. Then she proceeded to rate you, Dorn, Rafe, and of course…”

Armando laughs as he finishes, “Mike. your granny is a trip.”

“Tell me about it.” You try to prolong this morning exercise but he picks up pretty quick and isn’t having it.

He stops jogging in place, hand going out to slap your ass before pulling you along by the hand.

You’re wheezing, ready to throw a whole tantrum, legs stinging, wrists limp as you drag yourself up Granny’s driveway. There’s a Porsche parked to the right in the driveway by the rental you picked up from the airport. Mike’s already out of the car, at the trunk as he’s pulling out his luggage.

“Hey y’all! uh oh, Armando what did you do to my girl?” The smile vanishes from Mike’s face as his son glances back at you.

If the ground wasn’t so damn hot, if the air, if everything wasn’t on temperature hell you would have face planted right on the gravel.

Armando also looks back at you, hands on your knees as you give a wave to Mike, whose brows are deeply furrowed before he raises them to the twenty-eight year old closest to him.

“She’s aight.” He shrugs, “we needed to get our cardio in and she’s the one who wanted to tone that hot girl body up—her words not mine but I don’t disagree.” Armando looks at you again, biting down on his bottom lip, “she’s lucky I didn’t strap any weights to her ankles.”

Raising your hands above your head, you actually feel yourself sway doing that movement over touching your knees and Mike actually takes a step toward you but Armando presses the back of his knuckles against his bio dad’s chest. Mike takes his eyes off you for a second and sizes Armando’s hand as he’s now analyzing you closely himself.

“I don’t know how many serious girlfriends you done had in your life man but I’m telling you right now, if that girl ends up in the hospital with heat stroke because of you pushing her too hard, that’s your ass.” Mike warns Armando, who glares up at him.

He didn’t need Mike to tell him about you.

He was the one who took the time to get to know you mind body and soul.

Mike’s missed out on twenty-something years and didn’t get to give Armando any advice.

And that’s on Kanye!

Armando does move over to you the moment you feel your stomach clench, ready to upchuck any light breakfast you had. He doesn’t waste time picking you up and over his shoulder, you resting limply against him before he’s walking by Mike.

He pauses, “your room is the last room at the back of the house, padre.”

And with that Armando continues towards the house, ready to cater to you because what Mike Lowrey didn’t know was that Armando would die for you.

Mike is mumbling to himself, trying to control his temper since it felt like he was building a connection with Armando one minute and then in the next he was pulling ten steps back. The kid didn’t even offer to come back and help him bring his things in—not that Mike needed it but it was a decent thing to do.

Respect was earned and the duo had a long way to go.

So Mike lets it go, slamming the trunk shut before meeting a very excited Granny Bessie at the front door.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

More Armando content here.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Nonhuman AU Jack.

Wolf beastmen are naturally bigger than their cousin, the dog beastmen.

Has black claws.

His fur is so freaking fluffy and he has so much of it. Arms, legs chest, underarms, floof happy trail, above his tail. It's perfect for shoving your face in. Be careful not to get it in your mouth.

Said fur is something he has a lot of and it’s thick. As a result, he has some problems with overheating, more so in the summer. Till his winter coat shades and… it's a lot and gets everywhere. It's around that time he’ll need to be taken outside a few times and given a good brushing. That floof will go everywhere and the local bird will wait nearby to take that floof going around for their nests. It's good quality nesting stuff and the birds want it. 

A wolf pup’s eyes are blue at birth. Their eyes turn yellow by the time they are eight months old. This was also the case for Jack when he was a baby.

Is fully capable of crunching bones with his jaw and there's a local butcher back home that he and his family like to get those along with meat.

Like a regular wolf, Jack has a light-reflecting layer on his eyes, also known as tapetum lucidum and it makes his eyes glow in the dark and he also has good night vision.

I found out ravens often follow wolves to grab leftovers from the hunt—and to tease the wolves. They play with the wolves by diving at them and then speeding away or pecking their tails to try to get the wolves to chase them. Imagine Crowley liking to bother Jack...until Owl Rook shows up cuz owls also have some beef with corvids.

“Wolves howl to contact separated members of their group, to rally the group before hunting, or to warn rival wolf packs to keep away. Lone wolves will howl to attract mates or just because they are alone.” Kinda funny if certain beasties like him howl when they want to hang with their homies. You end up hearing random howling during a normal school day. Also, him howling because he's trying to attract his mate (you) and just looking at you expectedly after.

He tries to seem cold and distant at first but that doesn't last too long, still a tsundere about things though. The others keep pointing out how he helps you out more than he does his other friends. Well, obviously it's because the human needs more help things being weak and all…totally no other reasons.

You know those lines about how he messed up making that flower crown his sister wanted and how she ended up crying? And then he smooshed all those macaroons during the cooking thing? Yeah, he’s cononly bad with delicate things and even more so with those claws in the nonhuman au, he asks for your help with delicate things and offers to help you with other things in return. Lifting heavy things, reaching, scaring off other guys. Though he already does all that without even being asked. He also likes comparing your hands but gets annoyed at you calling his paw pads toe beans. He has mostly human hands, he just has the patting on his fingertips along with the pad on his palm...and he has claws....and fur on the top part of his hand....yeah mostly human hands.....

One time he got a tail sprang because being around you makes his tail go nuts. The others teased the hell out of him for it.

Wants you two to do things together and convinced you to try going for runs with him, unfortunately, you couldn't keep up with his big wolfie self. But when you were about to mention it he suddenly picked you up and carried you for the rest of the run saying something about adding this to his routine to make him stronger. It does become a part of his morning running routine.

A wolf pack may contain just two or three animals, or it may be 10 times as large. Once you guys become friends he decides the two of you are your own little pack and expects you to know that.

The two of you are around each other…a lot and not just because you guys share classes. However, he does insist on sitting next to you for each class. Wolves are pack animals after all. Always staying close. Walking you back to your dorm, making sure you have lunch together, and even taking food from his plate to add onto yours, kinda hovers around you, and wants you to either join his club or hang out where it's happening.

I hope you're prepared for wolf kisses once you're together. Now regular wolves do it for a few reasons. To show affection, say hello, to show respect, to see if you are sick, to see if you've eaten anything good. Wolfs with human handlers will even do it to them and they have to keep their lips shut really tied or else they’ll get sloppily frenched. Jack is gonna have some deep wet kisses, and straight up lick your teeth. And your face…and your neck…and…

He’s totally going to try grooming you the wolf way and get growly if you push his face away.

You will be scented often. When he sees you in the morning, before you leave, after a shower, after he smells someone else on you.

Keep a lint roller handy cuz of this guy.

When you are alone he’s a lot more affectionate and especially loves getting scritches on his ears, chest, and above his tail. You're the only person he will let rub his tummy in his full wolf form. You might even catch him making wolfie noises when you find a good spot to scratch. 

He really likes it when you help him with his grooming, and with his kind of fur, he needs it often.

With wolf courting he will do with you what males do with females regardless if you're a guy, gal, or nonbinary pal. 

 With regular wolfs it usually involves the male following the female around and the female allowing him to approach her. They may vocalize, scent mark, and chase each other around. They may also touch noses, lick muzzles, mouth each other, bump bodies, groom, and nibble coats, the male may bow to the female, toss and tilt his head, and walk and sleep close together.

So, you not pushing him away is something he’ll take as you be cool with it. Tests things out with some nuzzles and a gentle nip or two. Some (cute) wolf noises, help you with your grooming, be it straightening out your clothes or even giving a lick. Will bump noses with you and gently bump your body with his. Will walk with you any chance you get and will want to have sleepovers more often.

Talk of wolf mating habits and Jack's junk below.

For wolfs mating season can be anywhere from January to April with the female having only five to seven days of estrus. During this time, the pair may move out of the pack temporarily to prevent interruption from other pack members. Since your human “mating season” is pretty much any time you ovulate if you can but really the whole thing that gets male animals when it comes to seasons is that they smell that their mate is excited/fertile, so anytime he smells you being aroused it's going to have him react. So, if he knows you're cool, with it he’s to want to get you away from everyone and take care of you. 

However, with Jack, he will likely want to hold off on sex and want to date for a long while, build trust, and make sure you are right for each other. He takes dating and relationships very seriously. He only wants to have one mate for his whole life after all. Anyways, once he does deem himself ready and knows that you are too he’ll want to work his way up to full-on sex starting with oral, using hands, and whatnot.

He really likes giving oral, especially because of the taste and scent. Male wolves will smell the genital region to determine readiness to mate, tongue flicking in and out, and testing the air for traces of sex hormones and only stop if their mate growls and snaps their jaws at them.

A kind of funny/cute thing wolves do right before mating is act happy by nuzzling and whipping tails in each other's faces. Just all happy about mating I guess. I mean, Jack probably has his tail going already when you're making out or having actual sex. Ask him if he wants a blowjob then his face is all serious but flushed and his tail is going back and forth. Pretty darn cute I must say.

Yes, his dick is big, and yes, he has a knot. You'll be stuck together for about half an hour before it deflates, and he can pull out.

Kinda gross but he likes to clean your hole out with his tongue after mating.

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...

Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

They travel together for two more days. Dean isn’t really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.

He tells her about growing up on his family’s farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.

“She tamed him,” Mila remarks with a smile. Dean’s lips quirk in response.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles, “but he knew he couldn’t pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. She’s a real pistol when she’s gotta be.”

Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life. 

He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Dean’s morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.

Dean managed to smooth things over though. He’s always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.

Mila admits that she and her cousin Šóta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the “free mind” her mother dreamed about.

The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens.  

On the third day, it’s nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, they’ve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.

“My tribe lives beyond the river,” she says, “but the current is strong now.”

Dean looks over at her. A question he hasn’t wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

He’s still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesn’t have many options. It’s either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. He’s not sure how long he could survive in the wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.

In the past three days, it’s taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. He’ll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. It’s a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be.

He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides it deep inside, where she won’t see it. 

“All right, the current doesn’t look too bad over here,” he says, pointing to farther north along the river. “The horses can make it.”

Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.

The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until they’re submerged into the water up to their waists.

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

That’s why he’s able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.

Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Baby’s reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Mato’s reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.

Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotcha,” he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.

She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Mato’s neck. Without her weight, he’s able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.

Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God he’s a strong swimmer.

Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see it’s a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.

A waterfall.

Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesn’t know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesn’t want to know. All he’s trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.

She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all she’s worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.

This time, it’s Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.

A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.

He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Mila’s familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.

She smiles in relief.

He realizes that he’s lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. She’s taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.

The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. There’s a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. He’s heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most he’s taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors.  

Dean’s never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

“It’s night,” she says. “You slept for a long time.”

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble. 

“Thank you,” she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.

Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.

She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like it’s shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly.

Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.

“Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says.

Her brows raise. “No?”

“Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man.”

“Toothsome. I don’t know this word,” she admits. “Am I supposed to eat you?”

Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.

It’s difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Mila’s cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.

He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.

She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

“I can’t,” she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.

“I am not…how you say, married. I have to be…”

Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Chaste?” he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.

“Yes,” she says. “In the eyes of my people, it is…”

“I get it,” Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Really, I understand,” he says.

His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.

This time, he’s a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.

Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?

Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than he’s ever felt.

It’s harder than he might’ve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he won’t be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesn’t show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.

“This looks good,” he says, clearing his throat. “What kinda fish is this?”

With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.

That night, Mila dreams.

She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky. 

When she wakes, the fire has gone out and it’s still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s safe. Finally safe.

And she’s lying securely in Dean’s arms.

She’s no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize…

Her heart has already chosen.

“Kimmímila, what have you done?” her uncle asks in the language of their people.

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

Mila’s father, Chatan, and her cousin Šóta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chief’s large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge what’s happening. He doesn’t understand a word of any of it.

“You’ve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!” Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.

Mila steps forward, despite her mother’s embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribe—because even a horse’s spirit should not be broken by greed.

“Uncle, I’ve told you the story, though you don’t want to believe it,” she says. “Dean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.”

She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.

She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness she’s ever possessed in her life. She feels it’s led her to exactly this moment.

“And we are one,” she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.

“You would take it that far?” he asks.

Her face doesn’t change. “It’s already done.”

Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silence…he releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they don’t let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

“You prove yourself to be a man with honor,” he says in English. “Kimmímila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?”

Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how he’ll react. She’s not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.

“No, sir. I don’t deny it,” Dean says.

“Then, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,” Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."

Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.

“Is that it?” he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if he’s honest.

“Almost,” she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.

Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. “Sir.”

Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean. 

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Mila’s hand and heaves a deep sigh.

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance. 

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs. 

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life. 

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.  

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.” 

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.  

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter! 

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

Read the Sequel:

Dive into more Cowboy Dean with the sequel of this story, Outlander:

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won?

▶️ Keep Reading: OUTLANDER (PART 1)

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@ades106 @my-stories-vault @cevansbaby-dove @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof

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@pizzagirlxnsfwx @justsom3onesworld @beskarfilms @lunaticgurly @artemys-ackles

@malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester @jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean

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[livinggxd3adgirl]

a/n: warning before reading please don’t put my head on a fucking spike for making this 😭 I just wanna see more jjk x latina fanfiction 😓 and for the purposes of this you guys live in Tokyo! You moved from your home country to Tokyo!

i've been thinking about this pairing!

I just know Sukuna would start secretly learning Spanish so he can understand what you say to your cousins on FaceTime with them.

Whenever you call him a corny name like “fresita” or “mi gansito chulo” his cheeks always flush. Even though he doesn’t know what it means, he always feels embarrassed. Once you tell him what they mean ( strawberry and my handsome gansito IFYKYK), he will be even more embarrassed than before.

Whenever sukuna hears you talk in Spanish, he falls in love with you more and more. He loves boasting about how you know Spanish and Japanese to all his friends.

You always find it so cute when he tries to talk to you in Spanish. His struggle always warms your heart. Though his Spanish needs some work, the thought of sukuna learning a whole new language to communicate with you always makes you feel like the most special girl in the world.

When sukuna finally meets your family for the first time he’s practically sweating balls and bullets. He had never been so fucking nervous for anything else in his life. He stutters over his Spanish as he introduces himself to your family. But after that he’s practically a part of your family.

One day, your mom will call you to show you how she has a photo of Sukuna as a child right next to a photo of you as a child hanging above her television. When you ask her how she got the photo, she explains how she searched Sukunas name on Facebook and found baby pictures his mother posted of him. This situation has Sukuna begging his mom to delete her Facebook and you cackling.

The first time you take Sukuna to a quinceañera a whole different version of him comes out. He’s shotgunning drinks with your drunken uncles and on the dance floor with you. The next morning, you are both eating menudo to cure the gnarly hangover.

[demigodsanswer]

What's the new au???

It's another modern/non-demigod au, with Tattoo Artist! Annabeth, who is also a single mom working hard to coparent her five year-old. The story starts when she meets her friend/mentor's cousin, who's only just moved back the New York City after getting Ph.D. out in California.

Here's a bit of the draft. Not sure if this will ever actually be something I finish though.

~

There were already a few people lined up on the sidewalk when Annabeth stepped through the door. Sundays were walk-in days at Electric Tattoo, but it was first come, first serve. She still had half an hour before she needed to serve anyone though. 

Electric was a basic street shop that boasted artists who could probably work somewhere more impressive, but didn’t have the energy to deal with the Instagram of it all. Annabeth herself had a decent following, and her books were usually full, but she still appreciated the spontaneity of a walk-in. And Sunday’s were good money. Sophia spent the day with her father, and Annabeth spent the day sticking needles in strangers. 

She’d built a pretty robust portfolio in the last few years; she could do just about anything. Geographic tattoos and linework were her favorite though; it was the closest she got to using the architecture degree she finished mostly out of spite in the end. But she’d always like the drafting process, even if she couldn't stand her internships or the industry in the end. 

At least, as a tattoo artist, she got to stab the shitty men she dealt with with needles. 

“I booked your six o’clock spot already,” Thalia said to her before anything else. 

“Good morning,” Annabeth said back. “Who is it?” 

“My cousin. I’d do it, but you know how I feel about doing family,” Thalia said. Annabeth didn’t know why she phrased it like that, but she wasn’t in the mood to tease her about it. “I’ve told you about him, I think? Percy? Lived out in Berkeley?” 

Annabeth shrugged. “Probably, but I don’t remember,” she said as she walked over to their shitty coffee maker -- the machine and the coffee it produced were sub-par, but it would do. 

“You’ll like him,” Thalia promised. 

“Last time you set me up with someone you thought I’d really like, I didn’t fall in love, and I got pregnant,” Annabeth reminded her. 

“I told you to abort the little crotch goblin,” Thalia teased. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “That crotch goblin is your goddaughter.” 

“And I love her very much,” Thalia promised. 

Thalia had been her mentor through her tattoo apprenticeship, and then, a fast friend. And for all of her jokes, she was a reliable aunt and baby sitter for Annabeth’s now-five year-old. 

Really, Annabeth needed the distraction of a Sunday walk-in day. Sophia spent Saturdays with her father, slept at his house, and didn’t get dropped off to her again until six thirty Sunday night. It wasn’t even a full forty-eight hours, but Annabeth spent just about every Saturday night missing her, whether she stayed home or went out. 

She wiped down her station, got her ink, tools, and stencils ready. And then she checked her phone again. Nothing from Luke. Not that she was worried. He was a good and responsible father. But she appreciated a photo here and there, an update. 

Annabeth decided to just text him instead: “I have a 6pm, bring her to electric” 

Luke just thumbs up reacted. 

Things between them had never been particularly romantic. A few okay dates, and some decent sex had really been the extent of it. Until Sophia made herself known to Annabeth a few weeks later. 

Annabeth knew she didn’t exactly look like a mom, with arms and legs covered in tattoos, a piercing in her eyebrow, and an undercut (really, her hair was simply too thick to deal with in its entirety), but she had always wanted a baby. And this one was hers. She didn’t expect Luke to want to coparent or be around at all. He made things easier -- financially especially -- but … 

Well, there wasn’t really a but. That was what annoyed her so deeply. They could be the perfect family. Mom and Dad just didn’t love each other. Luke had proposed to her when she told him. But Annabeth had just laughed and turned him down. It was more stable for Sophia this way. The less time they spent together, the less likely they were to hate each other in the end. 

But Annabeth still looked forward to six thirty. 

~ 

Thankfully, no one asked her to tattoo any genitals today. Closest she got was some side boob -- laurel wreaths, one on each tit. They came out pretty nice. She might have stolen the idea for herself if her tits still sat up like her client’s did. Breastfeeding had left her flatter than she was used to. But at least she could usually go braless these days. 

Annabeth cleared off her bench, disinfecting the surfaces and the equipment as Thalia’s voice got louder and closer to her. 

“I can have Hazel re-pierce your ear, if you want,” Thalia offered, tugging on some man’s ear. 

“Ow,” he complained. Annabeth stood still and looked at him. He must have been the cousin. Percy, she remembered. He looked more like Thalia than her brother did -- dark hair, strong jaw, just a few inches taller than her, and devastating green eyes. 

“This is Annabeth,” Thalia said, gesturing towards her. Annabeth gave a small wave. “She’ll be ruining your arm today.” 

Annabeth laughed, insulted. “You taught me. If you think my work is that bad, it’s your fault.” 

“It’s not about your work,” Thalia promised. “This idiot,” she pointed to the man, “lost a bet and now gets whatever dumb tattoo my brother picks out.” 

“I’m hoping he’s kind to me,” Percy said. 

Annabeth forced a smile and looked at Thalia. “I really don’t want to give you a tattoo you don’t want,” she said. 

“Bets a bet,” Thalia said. 

“It’s really no worries,” Percy said. 

“Is it your first tattoo?” Annabeth asked. 

“Nope,” he promised her. Then he rolled up his tee shirt sleeve to reveal his shoulder. It was covered in dark linework of waves, with a ship on the sea. The lines were incredibly clean, but for a moment, Annabeth panicked. It was shaded in with reds and purples that for a moment made her think it was painfully infected. 

It didn’t take long for her to realize it wasn’t infected at all. It was a very well-healed image of --

“The wine dark sea?” She guessed. 

“Yeah!” Percy said. “Thalia told me you were smart.” 

“She went to Harvard,” Thalia offered for her. 

“Smart enough not to bet on a tattoo,” Annabeth said to him. Well, anymore. 

Thalia walked back to her station, leaving Annabeth and Percy relatively alone. Frank had a man on his bench next to her, but they weren’t talking.  

“It’s really okay,” Percy promised her. “I knew I was going to lose.” 

“What was the bet?” She asked, inviting Percy to sit on the bench while they waited for Jason to make up his mind. 

“I’m working on my first book, he just finished his dissertation. Race to the finish. He was way ahead of me, though, just needed a final push to finish before his funding ran out. So, I figured I could sacrifice my forearm to keep him on track,” Percy explained. 

Annabeth asked a few more questions and Percy offered answers. He and his cousin were both classicists, he was Greek, Jason was Roman. Jason was at NYU, Percy had been out at UCLA, but then did a postdoc at UC Berkeley. But he’d finally gotten a job at Hunter College. He’d only just moved last week. 

“Are you from California?” Annabeth asked. Jason had finally made up his mind, they’d gotten the paperwork signed, and now Annabeth was applying the stencil. SPQR. Easy enough.  

“No, no, from New York, although,” he pointed to the New York Yankees logo she’d tattooed on herself just above the knee, “a Mets fan.” 

“I really don’t have strong allegiances. I just did this to piss off my Bostonian family more,” Annabeth said.  

“Rebellious,” Percy teased. “Thalia told me you’re from San Francisco?” 

Annabeth nodded. “Well, sort of. The family is from Boston, but my dad is also a professor. I grew up near West Point, then we moved to Berkeley when I was thirteen.” She pulled the stencil paper away. It looked straight. “There, check out if you like the placement.” 

Percy examined it in the mirror, twisting his arm in different positions to make sure he liked it. 

“Yeah, looks great!” He said, laying back down. “So, wait, your dad teaches at Berkeley?” 

Annabeth nodded. “History department. Twentieth century military stuff, though, you probably wouldn’t have --” 

“Is your dad Fred Chase?” 

Annabeth pressed her lips together to hold back a sigh before saying, “the one and only.” 

“He’s a …” Percy paused, studying her face to see what he should say about him, “very boring man,” Percy said. Annabeth laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah, all research, no fun,” Annabeth confirmed. 

Percy was looking at her in a new way, like he was trying to piece something together. “You’re his only daughter?” 

“Yep,” Annabeth confirmed. His eyes glanced at her chest, and Annabeth knew he figured it out. Her daughter’s name, the first three letters at least, poked through the V neck of her black tee shirt. “He’s mentioned me?” She asked. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, I haven’t talked to him a lot, but I mentioned I was from New York. He said he had a daughter and grandkid in the city.” 

Annabeth nodded. “Sophia.” 

“Where is Sophia today?” Percy asked. 

“With her father,” Annabeth said, trying to communicate through tone that Sophia’s father was not someone Annabeth was romantically attached to. “He’ll bring her around later,” and then for good measure, “he gets her on weekends.” 

Percy nodded, and then got comfortable, offering her his arm. “He gets her all weekend? Nights too?” 

Annabeth turned on the tattoo gun and picked up some ink. “Yeah, why?” 

“Just … if you’re single --” the needle made contact and shut him up. 

“You’ll still need to pay for the tattoo even if you ask me out,” she said with a teasing smile. 

Percy relaxed a bit as he got used to the sensation. Annabeth had it on good authority that she was a very gentle tattooer, actually. Men were just babies. 

“Yeah, I assumed,” Percy assured her. “Do you date? I mean, are you single?” 

“Am single, and I guess I date.” Truth be told, she didn’t date often. But she wasn’t opposed. Her arrangement with Luke would easily allow for a date here and there, she just … hadn’t dated much. Even before Sophia. Thirty in one month, she wasn’t exactly itching to join dating apps. 

“Cool,” Percy said as she finished the first pass on the S. “Are you free next weekend?” 

Annabeth smiled. “Let me finish this tattoo and then you can decide if you ever want to see me again,” she said. 

~ 

As always, her linework was clean, and the tattoo sat straight on his forearm. 

“How much?” Percy asked, after it was sanitized and wrapped. 

“One hundred,” Annabeth said. It should have been closer to $120, but she’d give him a friends and family discount. Percy handed her his card. 

Annabeth turned to the register. 

“So your daughter --” Percy started. Annabeth didn’t look up from what she was doing, worried about what he might say or what her face might reveal. “She’s what? Five?” 

“Yeah, she turned five in April.” 

“Blonde?” 

“So, so blonde,” Annabeth said with a faint smile. 

“Big fan of Beauty and the Beast?” 

Annabeth looked at him. “Did my dad talk about her that much or are you psychic?” She asked. 

Percy just pointed to the window. Six thirty. 

Luke was holding their daughter as Sophia waved her arms around, trying to get Annabeth’s attention. She was in a new Belle dress up dress. Annabeth had to appreciate that Luke doted on their daughter, but it was hard not to resent him. He got to be the fun gift-giving weekend parent, while Annabeth was stuck with the bath time, nap time, daycare, chores parent. Sophia was starting Kindergarten in the fall. Soon Annabeth would be the homework parent too. 

But her building resentments fled her for a moment. She put Percy’s card down and walked quickly towards the front door. Thalia had locked it at six after the last clients had come in for the day. 

“Hello beautiful,” Annabeth said as Luke handed Sophia over. She was starting to get too big to be picked up, but Annabeth was still doing her best. “I’m just finishing up,” she said to both of them, letting them inside. 

Percy and Luke seemed to recognize each other, and offered some warm words. 

“It’s been a while,” Percy said, glancing at Sophia, then back at Luke. 

“What? They don’t have Facebook out in California?” Luke asked him, as if to say this wasn’t a secret. 

“You know I don’t bother with all that,” Percy said. But Annabeth thought he looked a bit guilty and apologetic for missing … all of this. 

“Can I see your tattoo?” Sophia said, pulling on Percy’s shorts leg. Percy squatted down to her height and held out his arm. Sophia stared at it for a second before announcing: “That’s not a word!” 

Percy just laughed as Annabeth told her daughter to be polite, before adding, “really good reading, though.” Sophia beamed. 

“It’s Latin,” Percy explained, offering her the meaning in Latin then English. Sophia seemed genuinely inspired by the new information, and Annabeth wondered if she’d, despite it all, birthed a tiny scholar. 

When he finished his explanation, though, there was a long awkward silence between the three adults as Sophia ran off to find Hazel. 

Percy started to excuse himself, realizing that he was the odd man out now. He signed his name on the receipt, leaving Annabeth a more than generous tip. She watched him try to shield the receipt from Luke as he wrote his phone number for her. She hoped this wasn’t some bro code nonsense. Legally, Luke had partial custody of their daughter; he did not have authority over her Saturday nights. 

“See you next Saturday?” Annabeth asked as Percy started to leave. 

He looked sheepishly at her, but his smile betrayed him. “Yeah, let me know what works?” He said before leaving her alone with Luke. 

“You’re going out with him?” Luke asked as he handed over Sophia’s bag. 

“Maybe,” Annabeth said, tucking the receipt into her pocket. 

“I mean, I’m fine with it. It just … he’s a college professor,” Luke said. 

“What, you think I’m not smart enough for a college professor?” 

“No, I think your dad is a college professor,” Luke said. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” she warned. “How was she this weekend?”

“Great,” Luke said. “She read a bunch of books to me, we watched Beauty and the Beast twice, and we went to the park. No accidents, no injuries, no melt downs.” 

That was her girl. She was a bit injury-prone, as she inherited some of Annabeth’s impulsive fearlessness, but otherwise she was a smart, well-behaved girl. She was more than Annabeth thought she deserved. 

“Great, and the dress?” Annabeth asked. 

“Couldn’t help it. It was too cute,” Luke said. “It makes her happy.” 

“I’m not mad about it,” Annabeth promised. “Thank you. It’s sweet. I’ll be in touch about next week. Her Pre-K graduation is on Thursday, don’t forget,” Annabeth said. 

“Don’t worry, we also practiced singing ‘God Bless America,’” Luke said. The Pre-K kids were all singing that during the ceremony. 

“Well, I still need to clean up here. Feel free to hang out, or take off, whatever,” Annabeth said. 

Luke said hi to Thalia, goodbye to Sophia, and goodbye to Annabeth and was gone within a few minutes. “I need to talk to you about something this week,” Luke said. “An idea I had. A surprise for Sophie.” 

Annabeth nodded. “Alright, call me whenever,” she said, waving him off. 

“Tell Percy I said hello,” were his last words to her before leaving the shop. 

Annabeth found Sophia in the back with Hazel, who was marking where Sophia would get her ears pierced with a marker. Annabeth told her she had to be seven to get her ears pierced, but she still insisted on getting the little purple dots on her ears every time she saw Hazel. 

“Ready to go, nugget?” Annabeth asked. Sophia nodded and got Hazel’s help getting out of the big chair. “Say thank you,” Annabeth reminded her. 

~

Bay Ridge was decently close to the shop, and not too far from Park Slope where Luke lived, but it was still a long way on the R train. Sophia spent the entire ride asking Annabeth a series of ear-piercing related questions that Annabeth answered honestly, logically, and with as little audible annoyance as she could manage. 

But three stops from home, Annabeth suggested they play the quiet game. Her daughter was as competitive as she was smart, and stayed quiet the rest of the ride. 

Annabeth’s first words were: “Come on,” when the subway pulled into their stop, and Sophia’s first words were a boastful: “Ha! I win!” 

“Princesses don’t brag,” Annabeth said, taking her hand. That might have been a lie. She had no idea what princesses did or didn’t do. 

When they finally got back home, Annabeth popped some chicken nuggets in the airfryer, got some steam-in-bag veggies out of the freezer, and wrestled a tiny human out of her new princess dress. 

“Come on, you don’t want to get food on it,” Annabeth said as Sophia pouted. 

After many chicken nuggets, and a reluctant forkful of vegetables came the bath. Then the bedtime story. Then tucking her in. And kissing her goodnight. 

“Love you to the moon and back, sweetie,” Annabeth told her. 

“Can I wear my Belle dress to school tomorrow?” Sophia asked. 

“No, but I promise you can put it on as soon as you get home, okay?” Annabeth offered. 

“Okay.” 

“Good night,” Annabeth said. 

“Night night,” Sophia offered back. 

Annabeth shut her door. It was only nine. A bit late for her bedtime, but Sophia wanted a few extra chapters of The Hobbit, and Annabeth did love that book. 

Annabeth unpacked her weekend bag. Sophia’s favorite toys had already come out of it, and her favorite blanket. All that was left were the dirty clothes. One outfit was shoved in a plastic bag, covered in brown goo. Annabeth groaned. 

“For fucks sake, Luke --” He’d told her no accidents. Sophia had never even had a poopy accident before. She barely had accidents at all. How long had he ignored her for her to --  

Mud, it was mud, she realized when she opened the bag. Sophia had somehow gotten covered in mud. She took a deep breath and let her shoulders relax. 

Annabeth took out her phone and texted him anyway. 

Annabeth 

You could have told me about the muddy clothes 

Luke

Shit, sorry, I forgot. 

Happened this morning. 

She jumped off the swings and landed in a puddle 

I keep telling her not to do that

She typed out: no reason to leave it for me to clean but deleted it, in no mood to start a fight. 

Annabeth

I know, I keep telling her too. 

Maybe we take swings away from her until she stops next time

Luke

I don’t want to be the bad guy 

Annabeth

You think I do? I’m proposing a united effort here. I just need to know you’ll back me up. 

Luke 

Alright, I will. 

She just went to the bathroom and dropped the dirty clothes in the shower and started to rinse them out. Her apartment had a washer and dryer, one of two blessings in her life (Sophia, of course, the first one), but she didn’t need it getting covered in Brooklyn mud. She let that wash down the drain. 

With the clothes rinsed she started the wash, stripping off her own clothes from the day to throw in with them. 

Her hand slipped into her pockets, checking to make sure she didn’t wash another pair of headphones. She found Percy's receipt. She smiled. She typed the phone number into her contacts, before putting the receipt in her bag. The shop would actually need that to charge him and make sure she got her tip. 

Annabeth

Hey, it’s Annabeth

He’d texted back by the time she got out of the shower. 

Percy

Hey! 

Annabeth

I’ll be honest, I was hoping for a better pick up line 

Percy

Shit, okay hold on let me think of one 

How about: you are an SPQ-T?  

Annabeth 

It’ll do 

They didn’t talk much. She asked about his tattoo; he confirmed their dinner plans. He asked about Sophia, if she had a good weekend, that sort of thing. 

Percy

She’s adorable. Looks just like you

Except blank 

Annabeth laughed. 

Annabeth

She’s constantly in trouble at school for drawing on her arms and her friends’ arms. 

Percy

She’ll be a great artist one day I’m sure 

Annabeth

Her dream career is artist princess mommy

That’s exactly what she’ll tell you if you ask

Percy

Not a bad collection of jobs 

Annabeth finally asked the question she did need an answer for before anything else went forward. 

Annabeth 

Do you like kids? 

Percy

I love kids 

Can’t wait for my own honestly 

Annabeth

So you’re alright with me having a kid? 

Percy

Yeah for sure

It’s not like she’s going anywhere anyway. Wouldn’t have asked you out if it wasn’t okay. 

Annabeth 

Were you and Luke close growing up? 

Percy

Eh, he was always Thalia’s friend. He mostly tried to pressure me into stealing candy and shit. 

Us going out wouldn’t be weird to me

Is it weird for him?

Annabeth

He hasn’t really said anything about it 

Percy

Is it weird for you?

Annabeth

No

Percy

Good, that’s all that matters to me 😁