#and so while every kid is dancing and having fun with their parents for the first song joel and sarah notice ellie is alone

[mariatesstruther]

hey @clickergossip and @becomethesun im thinking about how my preschoolers had a valentines day dance where we had parents come and dance with us to songs that the kids chose. also thinking about how how toddler sarah and ellie would definitely choose the BEST songs

the other kids are choosing songs like let it go, we dont talk about bruno, and pup pup boogie from paw patrol. meanwhile ellie chooses “we belong together” by mariah and sarah’s chooses “at your best (you are love)” by aaliyah

[yan-lorkai]

Kicks the door open I have come! to request a Self-aware AU with the Twst bois. When they and the Darling/MC/Player/S/O switch bodies. However, the Darling isn't inside the game. So it's like the Darling waking up in the boys' bodies inside the game, and the boys waking up in the Darling's body in the real world. Thankyou very much 🙏👍🫂✨

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: self-aware au, my beloved. It was so fun to write this and I wrote a lot too 🥺💓. It took me a while to finish, so I hope you like it, darling!

Azul could always feel your presence through the puppet you control. He felt calm when you looked at him. He felt delighted at every laugh you laughed, and he wanted nothing more than to be beside you. The real you. He wished really hard for it to be possible someday, not knowing that this was exactly what was going to happen. Although his request was successful, there was just one error in the equation: he was in your body, your holy, beautiful body. Which means... You were in his horrible body.

While others would feel happy (and he really is happy to an extent), Azul feels a sense of trepidation knowing that you were awaking in his body and there was no way for him to check on you. Or could he? He tried calling his own phone but it wasn't possible. Resigned, he then took to explore your room and home and if you have any roommates / lived with your parents, Azul would try get along with them and collect information on you. While this isn't the ideal, Azul still has to think ten times ahead so when he take you to Twisted Wonderland (not a matter of if but more of when), he could make you sign a deal.

By the way, he definitely try to unlock your phone. And since he is in your body, Azul may try to unlock your phone with your fingerprint or your face if your phone has that function. If he is successful Azul will read your messages as if it were a magazine, he would see what type of songs you listen and videos you like to watch, what's in your history. Basically he is your fbi agent seeing everything on your phone, there's not a thing he'll not see. Good luck for you, reader. That's why I always I always delete my history lol.

Meanwhile you. You wake up on Azul Ashengrotto's body, the octavinelle dorm leader. Geez, are you dreaming? But everything is so real and feels so real. Jade and Floyd seems so real. And their voices, mocking and teasing, almost condescending as you tried your best to act like Azul. They seemed to know that something was wrong but neither choose to ask, brushing off as you being busy with a new scam plan. You were overjoyed but also anxious, without knowing what to do. Could you even return to your body at all? Only time will tell.

⠀⠀

Jade always knew that something was strange with this world, it was almost too... Surreal? He can't quite put into words the things he feel but everything was so much clearer whenever he could feel your presence when he was studying or riding his broom. He could feel your presence when he was cooking, when he was talking about this terrariums, when he was beating people who broke their part of the deal. You seemed to favor him, to love him. He could feel your affection seeping through your cellphone. And he wished to see you, to know you as intimately as you knew him.

And that wish became real. One day he woke up in a different bedroom, in a different body, then, while he is a little surprised, Jade just brush this off as something you did. Perhaps you wanted to show him your world? You wanted to show him your life? Or were you trying to show him something else? Either way, Jade is having the time of his life in your body. Though, as if he was mesmerized by it, he caught himself looking himself at the mirror to see your face staring right back at him. He looks like an excited kid making silly faces in front of the mirror. Honestly he is so unserious. Making faces and silly dances, and laughing because of it.

⠀

Floyd is instantly thrilled, if somewhat bewildered. At first, he messes around with everything he can find, marveling at your surroundings and taking a deep dive into your belongings — he finds it all so fascinating. He’s absolutely entertained by exploring your room, your things, and all the little details that give him insight into your life. But once the novelty wears off, his mischievous nature kicks in. He wants to know everything about you — what you like, your habits, your friends — and he’s not afraid to dig deep. Floyd starts exploring your social media, searching for anything that brings him closer to you and your world. If he finds anyone he thinks might be close to you, he’s ready to make them uncomfortable with cryptic messages or odd behavior, wanting to make it clear that no one knows you better than him.

Meanwhile, you, trapped in Floyd’s body, have to navigate his spontaneous, unpredictable moods and intense physicality — whether in class, on the basketball court, or during his shenanigans. He's having the time of his life while you are fighting for yours, even more when Azul send you to squeeze some people. Like??? How are you supposed to do this????

⠀

Silver always dreamt of you. He knew you, the feeling of your love and affection, the tone of your voice, even if when he woke up he forget everything. A blurry line separating you two. For a while, he thought that you were some higher being that he created on his mind, a simple part of his imagination. That is until this magicless student come around and your presence was all over them, controlling them, talking through them. He wanted to get closer, he wished he could talk to you, to bask on your presence. But he couldn't. He couldn't break his code. Not yet.

But when he slept that night something was different. He couldn't jump into another dream, his voice was different, his height was different, then when he inched closer to the mirror, he saw. A different face. And he knew instantly that it was your face. It was a very beautiful face, exactly how he had imagined. Though it was not what he wanted. He wanted to talk to you, to tell what he felt whenever your gaze was upon him. He didn't want to be you. Or for you to be him.

⠀

Riddle wakes up in your body, feeling completely disoriented and frustrated with the lack of control he has over the new, unfamiliar world around him. But soon, the shock turns into curiosity and then into obsession as he realizes he now has full access to everything about you, your routines, belongings, even your weaknesses, and insecurities.

Riddle’s meticulous nature drives him to organize your life, make everything as “perfect” as he can, so when you’re back, it’ll be clear that he knows what’s best for you. He spends hours exploring your things, setting up strict plans, and making lists, even going so far as to cut out people he feels are a bad influence. All of this, in his mind, is for your “own good.”

In Twisted Wonderland, you’re now bound to the rules of Heartslabyul, balancing Riddle’s strict schedule, navigating his many routines, and dealing with his high standards as you struggle to maintain his reputation without causing a commotion.

⠀

Jamil is quick to adjust, immediately masking his initial confusion in favor of stealthily gathering information about your world. He keeps a low profile, but behind that calm facade, he’s strategically piecing together every part of your life, figuring out who’s important to you and how he can stay in your life even if he returns to his world. Jamil moves through your world with subtlety, observing your friends and family with a quiet intensity, noting who to trust — and who to remove from your life. He’s ready to make subtle changes to your social circle or behavior, aligning your life with what he thinks is “best.”

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re handling Jamil’s carefully hidden responsibilities, feeling the pressure of his dual life between serving Kalim and managing his own ambitions, all while trying not to slip up and reveal your true identity. It's difficult.

⠀

Kalim wakes up in your body with sheer joy and fascination, his excitement overriding any initial confusion. He’s absolutely delighted to be in your world, taking in every little detail with childlike wonder. Kalim sees this as an opportunity to become even closer to you, and he goes about learning everything there is to know about your life, friends, and family, brimming with excitement to be part of it all. He’s incredibly affectionate with anyone he meets, happy to share his thoughts, and may unintentionally end up sharing details about “you” that leave people puzzled. He can’t resist splurging a bit on your behalf, thinking he’s treating you.

As for you, adapting to Kalim’s responsibilities in Twisted Wonderland is overwhelming, as you’re thrown into his high-energy life and surrounded by his devoted friends and followers. His cheerful, social world is a whirlwind of activity and expectation, especially with Jamil by your side, assessing every move you make with a scrutinizing eye.

⠀

When Ruggie wakes up in your body, he’s initially thrown off but quickly realizes the opportunity in front of him. Instead of panicking, he takes a strategic approach, savoring every moment as he explores your life and digs into your personal world. His tendencies kick in subtly but intensely; he’s not one for grand, showy gestures, but every action is deliberate, aimed at securing his presence in your life as deeply as possible, as he changes your wallpaper for fanart of him and enters the game to level up all his cards for you.

He begins by poking through your belongings, finding small things that give him insight into your personality, routines, and friends. Ruggie is careful to go unnoticed, learning as much as he can about your relationships and keeping mental notes about anyone he thinks poses a “threat” to his place in your life. He’s not above making subtle changes, distancing you from people he dislikes and reshaping your social circle to align with his preferences, but he does so with skillful subtlety — most people won’t even realize he’s manipulating things from behind the scenes.

If you have a job, he’ll blend right in, charming your colleagues and subtly gaining their favor, leaving an impression that makes it hard for anyone to forget you. He’s naturally resourceful, too, so he takes a look at your finances, maybe even setting aside a bit of extra money “for emergencies” (which, of course, he intends to use for things he thinks you’ll need down the line).

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re adjusting to the gritty pace of Ruggie’s life in Savanaclaw. His resourcefulness is evident in every little aspect of his world — from balancing odd jobs to navigating the intense social structure under Leona’s rule. You feel the constant need to stay alert, manage his reputation, and keep up with his never-ending hustle. It’s a life of quick thinking, constant negotiation, and clever shortcuts that keep you on your toes, giving you a firsthand taste of Ruggie’s way of surviving in a world that doesn’t make things easy. You made a note to dote on him when you get back to your body, he deserves.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mignon's Halloween

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: The eleventh of my Halloween-centric fics

It's Jana that finds the headline first. It's Jana who opens her phone one day on camp to see it trending.

'Barcelona Superstar to Return to her Childhood Club?'

With her contract running out in the summer, question marks over whether young French star y/n l/n will stay at Barcelona remain but eagle eyed fans think they've solved the mystery.

In a recent TikTok posted on her girlfriend's account, the young star seems to have been pictured wearing her old Olympique Lyonnais jersey.

Click Read More below to see what our experts think of this startling discovery:

It's Jana that slides her phone over to Alexia at breakfast. It's Jana who has to explain that the site looks kind of sketchy and it likely isn't true.

But then you start posting things while you're away on camp with France.

Most of it is harmless stuff. The kind of stuff Alexia expects from a teenager back in their home country - a few harmless pranks on your teammates, a picture of you and your parents, a cute video of you kissing your girlfriend's cheek.

But then there's a random selfie of you in your childhood bedroom.

You're relaxed back on your pillows, your family dog laying on your chest.

His snout is covering the emblem over your heart but Alexia can recognise a Lyon jersey anywhere.

That's when she gets a bit worried.

You left Lyon because you wanted game time they wouldn't give you. You'd pushed a bit too hard for game time and they'd told you they weren't going to renew your contract.

Surely you wouldn't go back to them now.

Surely even if they begged and begged and begged, you'd hold yourself in a high enough regard that you wouldn't go back to them.

But the Lyon shirt pops up a few more times while you're away.

There's even a video of your girlfriend wearing one of your old jerseys as she walks her own dog.

"Don't tell me you're stalking the girlfriend now," Mapi gripes as Alexia stares down at her phone," The kids can have fun without you hovering over them."

"I'm not stalking anyone!"

"You haven't even met her girlfriend yet you follow her on every bit of social media you can find her on."

"That's for safety. I'm making sure she's a good one."

"I think y/n is capable of choosing her own girlfriend."

Alexia makes a face and Mapi corrects herself.

"I think y/n's parents are capable of approving a good girlfriend. Don't be so worried."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Alexia mutters, looking up from her phone when you finally walk in with Vicky.

The both of you are speaking in hushed whispers, giggling to yourselves until you both split off to go to your own cubbies.

Back when Lucy still played with the team, your cubby used to be next to hers but now that she's gone back to England, you've been moved next to Alexia so she can keep an eye on you.

"So," She says, trying to be as casual as she can," How was camp?"

You give her an odd look. "Yeah it was alright. But you know that already. Because you're a stalker."

"Why does everyone think I'm a stalker?!"

"You follow my girlfriend on all your social media. You didn't even create a fake account."

"Fake account? What's that?"

You smile at her, the same smile that Vicky does at camp when Alexia tries to show off one of those dances from TikTok that she knows young people like.

"Don't worry about it." You pull on your training shirt. "Is the Halloween party thing still on for tonight?"

"Yes, why?"

"Just checking. I might be a little late though. I've got a meeting with my agent."

Alexia tries to make it seem like she's not all that interested in it but she isn't quite sure it works. "Oh? What about?"

"Just contract stuff. I'm going to head off with Vicky before training," You say," We're going to see if we can break into the vending machine again."

Normally, Alexia would try to stop you but her eyes catch on the familiar white of the Lyon shirt you have stuffed in your bag.

The sinking feeling in Alexia's chest returns in full force, staying with her for most of the day to the point that she finds herself glancing at you much more than she usually does.

"She's not going to just up and leave," Patri says that evening at the Halloween party," She loves it here."

"She had Lucy here with her," Alexia points out," They spoke French together. None of us speak French. What if she misses speaking French?"

Irene rolls her eyes, slightly preoccupied with making sure that her son isn't eating all of the sweets that Marta has been spoiling him with. "She calls her parents regularly. She calls her girlfriend. And I can speak French. She's not been missing the French language in the slightest."

"But what if-"

"If she's leaving us," Marta says, reaching across the table to give Matteo another skittle," Then it won't be for Lyon."

Alexia finds it kind of hard to believe Marta when she's dressed in an inflatable pig costume.

"She's meeting with her agent and-"

"And she's here," Patri interrupts, chin jerking towards the door that you've just slipped in through.

"She's wearing it!" Alexia hisses, heart thumping in her chest," The Lyon shirt! She's wearing it! This is it. This is it. She's leaving us."

"No way!" Vicky laughs from across the room," You actually did it?"

You grin back at her, showing off your ripped shirt. "I think Laporta thought I was crazy when I pulled out the scissors and the lighter. What do you think? Do I look axe-murderer victim enough?"

"Do you mind if we add blood?" Vicky asks.

"You have fake blood? You should have led with that!"

You and Vicky barely take a moment to look at the congregation of captains at the table before you're pouring blood all over your head and shirt, really rubbing it all over the white fabric.

Alexia's mouth hangs up just as Jana's phone chimes with a notification from the Barcelona Femení account.

Happy Halloween Culers!

FRENCH SUPERSTAR HERE TO STAY! Find out more below!⬇️

[kamaluhkhan]

LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to: 

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE! 

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later. 

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year. 

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER 

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy. 

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too. 

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow. 

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!” 

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis. 

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples. 

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!” 

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears. 

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond. 

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand. 

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it. 

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.” 

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.” 

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you. 

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke. 

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat. 

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly. 

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you. 

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface. 

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all. 

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father. 

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief. 

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes. 

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.” 

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze. 

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained. 

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up. 

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others. 

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways. 

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why. 

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s. 

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too. 

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars. 

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all. 

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely. 

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him. 

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you. 

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.” 

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you. 

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking. 

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed. 

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….” 

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time. 

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash. 

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully. 

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too. 

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together. 

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill. 

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise. 

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw. 

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves. 

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost. 

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly. 

it fell just as quickly. 

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others. 

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids. 

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow. 

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party. 

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun. 

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away. 

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.” 

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways. 

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy. 

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.” 

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.” 

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. 

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.” 

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart. 

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile. 

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way. 

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you. 

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit. 

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you. 

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased. 

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further. 

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.  

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin. 

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.” 

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?” 

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. 

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes. 

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner. 

so, it’s fine. 

this, this thing with eros, is fine. 

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.” 

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden. 

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin. 

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words. 

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not. 

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more. 

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger. 

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?” 

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.” 

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego. 

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face. 

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three. 

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers. 

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into. 

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while. 

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it. 

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies. 

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.” 

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over. 

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.” 

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really. 

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together. 

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too. 

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you. 

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief. 

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while. 

but that isn’t all. 

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat. 

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move. 

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS. 

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness. 

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night. 

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday. 

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on. 

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters. 

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.) 

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake. 

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how. 

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was. 

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder. 

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything. 

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same. 

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were. 

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out. 

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts. 

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship. 

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too. 

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”  

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army. 

and once it was all over? 

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood. 

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?” 

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience. 

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question. 

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though. 

by the end of august, you’d be gone too. 

now 

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.  

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water. 

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.” 

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —" 

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.” 

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope. 

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

nothing.

[chsopnk]

「 ✦ DADDY’S HOME ✦ 」

☆. # SHIP — gojo satoru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro x gn!reader

☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — the guys as the father of ur kids.

☆. # WARNINGS — mentions of puke

GOJO .

i could see him as a boy or girl dad. or both

tries to give his daughter cute hairstyles and fails miserably. crooked pigtails where half of her hair is still hanging down is the best he can do. but hey, he tries

definitely hangs his kids upside down by their feet. probably shakes them too.

the kids are definitely small gojo’s. sorry not sorry

every single day is chaos.

when he goes out with the two on his own, he loses one of them about 80% of the time (he always finds them again, don’t worry 😭)

let’s them have snacks before dinner and tells them not to tell you. they always do.

despite all of that, he’s a fun father

gojo has a lot of energy so he runs around with them all day and plays with them <33

(then he complains about how tired he is when they’re in bed :/)

lots of fun trips. to the playground, amusement parks, places in japan, different countries. the beach.

if his kids have hobbies, he’s always ALWAYS!! the loudest and most embarrassing parent there. he says it builds character and he needs to support his babies ‼️‼️

NANAMI .

girl dad. twin girls.

he definitely does their hair!! and he’s good at it too <3 nanami has done their hair since they had hair.

he spoils them TO DEATH.

the girls only want to eat the food he cooks 😒 they say it tastes better

he dances with them in the living room when no one’s home. ugh he’s so CUTE 🥴🥴

nanami’s a very very loving father but he’s also strict when it comes to certain things

example a: the girls will never not do their homework. he makes sure of it 💯

just imagine nanami sitting at a table with his two little girls while explaining math to them 🥹 he’s so so gentle and understanding but he will not let them give up

imo he really loves it when they wear cute dresses and look all pretty. he’s a girlie girl dad.

he will play with them no matter what they want to do. play dress-up? he will wear the tutu. want to play house? of course he’ll be the baby. the girls wanna do his hair + make-up? he’ll be the test subject no problem ‼️

he’s also never ever going to miss any special day his girls have. their first day of school, bring your father to school day, their dance shows — whatever their hobbies are, he’ll be there to support them <33333

also: a REAL father. never had a problem with changing diapers or cleaning up baby puke.

TOJI .

not the best father, but he’s damn sure trying

the child was definitely unexpected and not exactly wanted but once he came to terms with it, he tries his best to be there as best as he can

he doesn’t have the money needed to take care of a child, neither do you (not really)

but whatever his kid wants, his kid gets.

mostly, that includes fast food and cheap toys from the dollar store

but hey!! the kid doesn’t care where the toys are from (/gen)

definitely the type of dad to get one of those leashes for kids. he’s not risking losing his kid somewhere 💀 and he knows damn well what kind of menace that child is

he can and will bribe his son with candy to get him to stop crying or throwing a tantrum

toji cannot deal with his kid screaming or crying. honestly mostly leaves you to deal with those situations because he’s unsure how to handle them

will change diapers but not without complaining and almost throwing up 💀 it’s not his fault !!! it stinks okay?!!

acts like he doesn’t care about the kid but then shows up after a mission with a bag of candy. or pulls out some toy the kid’s wanted

cannot, will not & should not help with homework.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

a really great (love?) story, m | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader

summary: Hot summer. South of France. On vacation with your younger brother's friends. Uh. Well, might as well make the most of it, despite Kim Taehyung making his weird comments every now and then. That damn French waiter put ideas in his head.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; Taehyung is obv trying to rizz up reader and reader is having none of it (but secretly likes it, keke); smut (fem reader, fingering, m-receiving oral); romantic and hella fluff; non-idol!AU; friends-to-lovers

I bought Tae's photobook and this is the result, what can I say, he's really pretty

--

“We’d make a really great love story.”

You grimaced and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

He frowned. His tan skin sparkled in the sun while you stayed curled up under the shade of a white beach umbrella, extra bundled in a wide straw hat and a flowy white linen cover up over a black and red sporty bikini. Even in this heat, you kept a bright yellow beach towel over your legs, not taking any chances with the blaring fireball in the sky.

Kim Taehyung asked you a question.

“Would you date me?”

You answered honestly.

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“You're too good-looking and that'll only bring trouble.”

His crochet shirt was gone, leaving him in hip-hugging dark teal baggy shorts with white stripes down the sides. His dark brown hair was damp from the ocean, tangled over his forehead. When he smiled at your reply, he showed all his teeth in a boxy grin. Your indifferent expression didn’t change. You held onto your book. You continued to show your displeasure as he ran off, long legs and rippling back muscles, knowing full well you would soon be bothered again. Sigh. You turned the next page of your book, listening to the sounds of a rambunctious volleyball game, and wondered again why you had accepted your younger brother’s request.

Damn kid fractured his ankle right before his vacation. Non-refundable plane ticket to Europe. South of France, to be exact. Hot as fuck this time of year. He didn’t want to go because it would be a pain for his friends and he wouldn’t be able to have fun, he said. That and you knew he would rather your parents dote on him all day in prime air conditioning rather than sweat it out with fear-of-missing-out. You told him you had plenty of male friends that would be interested, but your brother insisted you needed to get that stick out of your ass and have a vacation.

So, here you were.

On vacation with your younger brother’s friends. On a beach, reading a book, and, oh, look, here comes Kim Taehyung with a bowl of frozen grapes, yelling your name.

Being annoyed.

The other guys were polite. They always asked if you wanted to join in any of the activities. Some days you stayed back at the rented beach property and puttered around, reading, resting, staring at the view. To be fair, you did try some of activities, such as spending all day on the golf course being really terrible at golf. When your head turned away, some of the boys would move your ball closer to the hole so you could maintain some dignity. Nice kids. You even accompanied them to a night beach club – and saw some things that you will never speak of, yikes – and danced with a couple European guys. At some places, you translated for them when you could. Thankfully, a lot of people in the touristy areas spoke some English. Studying English literature at university hadn’t been useless after all. Although, watching a bunch of Korean guys try to hand-gesture their way in conversations was pretty damn funny. In short, so far it was a surprisingly fun and nice vacation.

Until you went with Taehyung to a fancy café wanted to visit, you being his just-in-case English translator, and the waiter mistook you two as a couple.

That was awkward.

“Oh, no, sorry. Just friends.”

It was probably Taehyung feeding you his chocolate croissant. At first, you were going to refuse, but the pastries had been pretty expensive, and you had wanted to try a bite so he had held it out and let you chomp. Then things got weird once he lifted his hand with a laugh and wiped away from chocolate from the edge of your lip, licking it off his thumb.

You did get a free lemon macaron for being a cute couple once you immediately clarified that you weren’t.

The waiter had winked. Taehyung had just smiled because he didn’t understand.

Awesome.

Once you explained, the relentless teasing began. Well, maybe teasing was the wrong word. Taehyung would just say weird shit with a grin and those sparkly brown eyes of his. Because the other guys were not interested in cute pastries or pretty photo ops spots as seen on TikTok, Taehyung finally had a chance to see these places, using you as an excuse to drag you around at dawn or dusk when the main activities weren’t happening. You had probably taken about five hundred photos of Taehyung by now.

He was very photogenic, at least.

“I think you would look good in these,” he would say during one of the many shopping trips, holding up a pair of chocolate brown, slim sunglasses.

“I’m not as a dress-up doll,” you would grumble as you removed your current cat-eye-shaped dark lenses so he could delicately place the new ones on your nose and survey his handiwork. He would tilt your head this way and that and nod to himself solidly.

“I’m going to buy them, so you have to wear them.”

Thus, you now ticked your new sunglasses down and raised your eyebrow at him as he handed you the bowl of frozen grapes. You weren’t sure what he was playing at, but then he ran off to the guys playing volleyball and act like he hadn’t done anything strange. Hah. You would catch him looking back at you while you were sucking on said grapes and roll your eyes. Was that a smirk or a residual smile from the game?

“A hot summer romance sounds fun, right?”

“Go off, then,” you replied dryly, turning the page of your book.

It was nighttime now. The guys were getting ready to go bar-hopping. You heard some hushed whispers of coming back to jump into the sea at night while drunk. Idiots. You would possibly have to play lifeguard if they followed through on being idiots. Sigh. You elected to stay behind this time, to keep the lights on and all that. You had a few packs of ramyeon in your suitcase for such drunken nights. Nothing like spicy Buldak to finish off a spicy night.

Taehyung poked your shoulder. You knew it was him because of his low whisper and his inability to stop giggling at saying ridiculous shit. You waved a hand.

“Come with us.”

“I don’t need to see you boys twerking on table again. No thanks.”

You heard him suck on his teeth, disappointed. “Join in then.”

“That is a little too weird to be doing around my lil bro’s friends, even for me.”

You glanced at him. Despite his dark, strong features, Taehyung still held that boyish charm. Or maybe it was because you couldn’t see past him being your younger brother’s friend, so he always seemed like a kid to you. He was very popular among the locals. Every time you all stepped out, people would be flocking to speak to him even though Taehyung didn’t know any French (or English, for that matter). Didn’t seem to bother anyone though.

It must be his unquestionably handsome, expressive face.

Hm.

You looked up from your book about science, sex, and murder, to encounter Kim Taehyung’s pouty expression. He was wearing a linen white and sky-blue two-piece set. Short sleeve button up and shorts, complete with floppy brown sandals. He perked up at your acknowledgement. In contrast to his summer heartthrob vibe, you wore a low-waisted long black maxi skirt, a tight black tank, and a draping dark brown lace cardigan. The cardigan color matched his eyes and the slim sunglasses perched on your head that you soon wouldn’t need anymore. The sun was slipping down to bed.

One of the guys called out to you. “Noona, do you want anything while we’re out?”

“We can pick up a man for ya!” Another chimed in loudly with a snort.

Taehyung’s expression darkened.

“Just make sure to do a head count,” you shot back. “Everyone better stay safe or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Ooookay!”

You caught Taehyung’s look. Didn’t say anything about it. He sighed and headed off to the kitchen with purpose as the other men began to pile out of the room. You figured he was pre-gaming or getting some water. You went back to the pages, only to start as you saw a glass and a chilled bottle of white wine slide in front of you.

Dark eyes looked down at you.

You gazed at him over the top of your book.

Reached up and untangled the sunglasses Kim Taehyung had gifted you. You placed them on the counter, next to the wine glass. He turned and left. The guys crowded by the door, gathering their things and laughing. One of them came back and handed you their gold watch – “I don’t want to break it by accident” “You mean, you don’t want to accidentally give it away because you get too happy when drunk?” – giggling with a silly grin and thanking you quickly before running out the door.

Before the door closed, you noticed Taehyung shooting you an enigmatic expression.

You ticked your head and looked back without much expression.

The wine was pretty good, but you didn’t have more than two glasses.

You remembered to put the watch on the appropriate nightstand before heading out to the back porch and reading as the sun went down. It was nice to read by the sunset waves in relative calm. You must have fallen asleep somehow, breathing in the sea and sounds of summer, only to be woken up by a gentle hand on your shoulder, calling your name from far away.

Hazy and deep.

“Hm?”

You shook your head and sat up, seeing Kim Taehyung looking back at you.

“Oh? What are you doing back so soon?” you yawned behind your hand, tucking your bookmark between the pages. “Or is it later than I thought?”

He shook his head of dark waves. He smelled a little like alcohol, but not too bad. “They’re still out. I told them my tummy didn’t feel too good.”

“Ah.” You chuckled. “Too much cheese this afternoon?”

There was a lantern on the back porch, along with a few lounge chairs and low lights that snapped away any pesky bugs. An orange glow dipped over you both. Taehyung had this look in his eyes that you had seen before, although not from him specifically. You were pretty sure every guy on this vacation had considered the same thing, although you had given them none of them a reason to fuck around and find out.

He gave you his puppy-like smile.

You gave him your usual cat-like expression that didn’t mean anything at all.

“You should go lie down,” you recommended.

“You’re my total opposite, I think,” Taehyung responded, which had nothing to do with anything. You didn’t respond to that, but you didn’t tell him he was wrong either. “I wonder what you’re like with your friends.”

You thought about the last time you were in a karaoke session with your few female friends. It had ended with one friend ragdolled on a stretcher and another girl dead asleep in your bathroom until noon of the next day. Stretcher girl was fine after some fluids and a nice, cute, hot male nurse making sure she was okay.

You had hooked up with him as a thanks. For yourself. And him, sorta.

“Girls are different than boys,” and you left it at that.

He raised his hand, spreading his fingers out.

You stared at it.

Taehyung reached over with his other hand and took yours, lifting it up and placing your palm to his.

You blinked slowly.

He was warm, as was the night air. Your hand was smaller, of course, but he wouldn’t be able to engulf it that easily. His palm was rough and worn from summer. From sun, from spiking a volleyball, from swimming in the salty sea. Yours was still soft from turning pages and sipping wine.

“I always thought you would want a very pretty, elegant girl who enjoys pink, parties, and flowers,” you commented, not yet removing your hand.

You did not go around perusing thoughts of your younger brother’s friends’ love lives, because that would be fucking weird. But it was a thought. Especially when you witnessed them get into or fall out of relationships. High school had been… yup. You had covered for lil bro and the boys a few too many times; you were a much better liar. With your parents usually gone for work, you were usually the one in charge, which meant you often played babysitter to way too many idiots. For some reason, over the years, they liked to ask for your opinion of their prospective girlfriends. You suspected it was because this course of action was safer than immediately introducing them to their mothers who were much scarier when it came to their sons. After all the question was always, what would my mom think of this person? You had tried to distance yourself as they all became older, but, alas.

Somehow you always got dragged back in to looking after them.

“There has to be a flower you like,” Taehyung insisted. “There are so many flowers in the world.”

You thought about it for a moment. “I like snowdrops.”

His face brightened. “Ah, yeah, that suits you. I see it.”

Your hands were still touching, palm-to-palm.

You tilted your head.

Taehyung didn’t move his hand away.

“I always thought you were a very pretty, elegant girl who enjoys black, quiet time, and snowdrops,” he said slowly, dreamily, his words turned into honey by his smooth, low voice.

You pointed out the obvious. “I only just told you I like snowdrops.” You scoffed lightheartedly. “And I enjoy quiet time because you all are so damn noisy.”

The sparkle in Taehyung’s eyes dulled a bit.

“Have you ever thought about it?”

You recalled him saying he told the others his stomach hurt. He must have picked up a thing or two from you over the years.

“About candlelit dinners? About going on night walks, buying convenience store snacks, and eating it at the kids’ playground when no one is around?” Taehyung asked one question after another. “About standing in the rain? Sharing an umbrella? Holding hands? About that leather jacket I have, borrowing it when you’re a bit cold, standing beside each other, waiting for the midnight train?”

He interlocked his fingers with yours.

You didn’t react much, other than saying, “You do look like the male lead in a romance drama, Kim Taehyung.”

The obvious was being avoided.

After a long moment, Taehyung let go of your hand, stood up, and went to his room.

You tried to put it out of your mind.

The night was warm enough that you napped a little more. Woke up a few hours later to make ramyeon and hydrate the group, earning many drunken handshakes of enthusiastic thanks. You stayed up a bit with them, learning of the night’s exploits despite the incoherent mess of their speech, and then sent them off to bed, one by one. Cleaned up, stared at the moon for a long time, and then headed to your room. Unlike the others, you weren’t sharing a room. It was small and cozy, as expected. You placed your book by your nightstand and sat in the dark.

You weren’t quite sleepy yet, but you got ready for bed anyway.

A few years ago, you and Taehyung had a… moment.

A very fleeting moment.

It had happened at bar. You had been turning the corner in the hallway to the bathrooms, and a hand grabbed your arm, yanking hard. Your body twisted, instantly on alert, but one look at the other person, and the shock had stopped you from pulling away, thereby allowing a drunken Kim Taehyung kiss you.

The contact had been in less than a second.

He had smelled like warm leather and musky embers.

Taehyung had immediately pulled away, sputtering your name, surprised that you both found yourselves at the same bar, the inopportune fate causing this fateful accident.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else – how… when…?”

You had shaken your head quickly, turning, your passing whisper by his ear.

“Forget about it.”

You entered the bathroom as a girl rounded the corner and fell into Taehyung’s arms.

At that time, you had chalked it up to weird timing. A random encounter. You had been hooking up with a different guy in Daegu. Taehyung was from there, so it wasn’t totally improbable that you could cross paths. Bold move by him. Wasn’t unheard of, though. Guys could be like that. Girls liked that stuff. When you left the bathroom, the couple was gone, which was a relief. You had gone about your night and it ended as expected. That guy had a great ass. It had ended on good terms, but ended all the same.

You wondered what made him bring it up again.

After all, he was the type of man he was, always surrounded by people vying for his attention.

He knew the type of woman you were.

Well, you had started getting a reputation among Daegu men.

After a moment of reminiscing, you stood up to pull back the curtain at your window. Your room was on the lower floor, next to the back porch, and, like a dream, there he was, Kim Taehyung against the rail, leaning over it to look towards the ocean.

You blinked slowly.

He wasn’t exactly looking inside the house, but he must have noticed your movement, because his head turned, and now you were entangled in eye contact broken by a thin pane of glass.

The shadows danced across his face. The lantern light was off but the lower lights along the ground path were still on. For safety, likely. He was only wearing a pair of white, tie-front linen pants. You wondered if Taehyung had been waiting for you or if he was simply admiring the summer night. Hard to tell. A soft breeze ruffled through his dark hair. You stood in your room, one hand on the floral curtain, the other on the button placket of your black silk pajamas. Short sleeved and shorts, breezy and slinky, perfect for the summer weather.

Moonlight shimmered off his bare chest.

After a moment, Taehyung backed away from the rail. You watched him step down the porch and walk over to stand under your window.

He tapped the glass.

You opened it.

Those dark eyes stared at you, blocking the light with his frame.

The window opened inward, a vintage latch at the center to split the two panes. You leaned out a bit, bending slightly, and now you and him were at eye level, surrounded by the salted scent of the sea instead of the dark hallway of a bar next to the bathrooms.

“You stomach didn’t actually hurt, did it?” you asked.

Taehyung smiled, but didn’t reply.

Instead, he too leaned forward a bit, inhaling softly. You had a tendency to spray your perfume in your hair. It lasted longer that way. He could probably smell it off your hair right now.

“I thought I would be fine,” he said, looking into your eyes.

You didn’t say anything.

“I thought I could forget about it,” he breathed in that deep honey voice of his.

Your eyes shifted past his, then back.

You placed your elbows on the windowsill and leaned out. You inside. Him outside. Taehyung seemed like he was searching for something in your expression. You didn’t give him anything. You wondered what he would do. The alcohol must have worn off by now. You weren’t feeling the glasses of excellent white wine anymore, at least. You remembered how the French women at the night beach club had held his arms and leaned against him, complimenting his smile and cooing over his perfect skin and beautiful dark hair. He hadn’t stopped them.

But, also, Taehyung was closing the distance right now, his warm cologne entering your private space.

“Why couldn’t you forget?” you asked, his lips centimeters from yours, viewing him through lashes.

His head was already tilted. His eyes flickered up, having lowered by instinct.

“Couldn’t help but think that you would make a wonderful female lead in a romance novel.”

You smiled, noting the detail between your words and his.

His lips pressed against yours.

You held it for a moment. Soft, deep, breathing in the scent of each other. You drew apart, hearing him suck in a breath hastily. Half-smiled, amused by his nervousness. He raised his head. You shared a questioning look. The night ocean sang, soft waves lapping at the shore.

You tilted your head towards the inside of your room.

Taehyung hesitated for a second, but only for a second.

Less than a minute later, he slipped into your room. Opened and closed the door as quietly as the old wood would allow. You paused, wondering if he had a whole script memorized, being the romantic and all, but Taehyung lifted his eyes and it seemed like he forgot everything. It seemed you had to be the one to make a move. You still stood by the open window, in your black silk pajamas. Night bathed in moonlight.

Well, you did have a reputation among Daegu men. One more couldn’t hurt.

You lifted your hand, palm towards Taehyung.

He closed the distance, almost soundless, and lifted his hand too. Palm to palm. You looked down at your touching hands, then back up at him. He was quite tall, but he wasn’t imposing his presence over you.

“You think we would make a really great love story?”

The moon caught a hint of his blush.

“You don’t think so?” he replied, unsure in the wake of you teasing back for once.

You were honest with him.

“I really don’t know.”

You angled your hand slightly so your fingers and his no longer overlapped.

“You have to be sure that you’re okay with that.”

You let your eyes linger on his chest on purpose before raising your head to make eye contact. The memory of his lips lingered. It was just like how you remembered it, even from that rushed, barely a second, frozen-in-time moment.

His kiss, however brief, had a lasting, forever type of feeling.

“You asked me if I had ever thought about it.”

His eyes widened a little bit as you mentioned the previous conversation. Like a movie, the instances played back in your head. The accidental kiss. The awkward silences when you both found yourselves alone in the smallest of moments before brushing past each other. You noticed Taehyung dating on and off, yet not committing to anyone. The times when he would notice you with other guys and quickly look away, as if he witnessed something dirty or wrong. His behavior wasn’t intrusive. He didn’t push you towards anyone, but he didn’t pull you away either.

“Not really,” you admitted. “Mostly because I didn’t think you would want the challenge.”

Taehyung stared into your eyes, slipping his fingers in between yours, holding your hand tightly.

“I think I needed to grow up a little.”

You raised your eyebrows. Looked him up and down. “Seems like you grew a lot.”

He laughed, then toned it down despite the house currently snores abode. You knew what he meant and he knew the double meaning you implied. You lifted your other hand. His chuckling died down, watching. He tensed as the pads of your fingers made contact with his forearm, walking up his muscle.

“You had a plan, hm?”

Your whisper melted into the moonlight.

“I was…” His breath stilled when you stopped. You glanced up, your fingertips poised at the bend of his elbow. “I was… going to ask you what kind of lover you are.”

You ticked your head, not yet moving your hand. “What about you?”

Taehyung’s dark eyes were barely visible under his hair fallen over his forehead.

“Yours.”

You paused.

His shoulder lifted in the lightest of shrugs.

“I heard you’re really good. Sometimes rough.”

Word got around then.

“I’m really good. Sometimes soft. So, we will balance out,” he said with a smile.

You removed your hand from his skin.

Your whisper so low it was nearly a growl.

“Is that what you think?”

The fingers of your raised hand spread. Curved. Danced over his neck. Taehyung started slightly at the contact of your middle finger sliding over his throat, your eyes locked with his, and you traced up, into the pocket of his jaw, closing your fingers around the back of his head and pulling his face down to yours.

And you kissed him.

Slow. Soft and intense at the same time, drawing in your breath. For a moment, Taehyung was suspended in surprise before leaning in, gasping against your lips, tangled in your tongue before he knew it. His own hand came up to cup your cheek, more to stabilize himself than for the passion, but then it all meshed together, kiss after kiss. One hand tangled in his hair and the other resting in the dip of his warm chest. He had one hand on your face and the other skimming along your elbow.

Surrounded by salt air and shadows.

You broke the kiss, pulling back with a sigh.

You half-expected him to retreat. Taehyung was one to flirt and not back it up. You were one to not flirt; instead, the first to move. He must have known that. For once, you played the role of the gentlemen this time, waiting for his choice. Toying with a half-smile on your lips, the erratic rise and fall of his built chest under your fingertips. Racing heart. Lingering taste. His dark eyes surveyed you under the messiness of his beach-loved hair.

In silence, you stared into his eyes, daring him to sin.

There must have been something in the French night air.

Taehyung tilted his head, feathering air-light kisses over your jaw. Your neck. You tilted your head back, to the side, letting out a sensual exhale at the tingling of your pulse. Your fingers touched the button placket of your pajamas, leisurely unbuttoning one by one. You felt his fingers ghost over one shoulder, pushing it down, exposing skin to air.

He spun you around, pressing your back to his chest.

You leaned your head back against his collarbone, silk draping down your arms.

Felt him whisper your name into your ear, low and tainted with lust.

His hands covered your chest, fingers spread, large palms hovering, statuesque in pose. Demure for half a second. Moonlight streaming over your torso. You arched your back, and Taehyung sucked in a breath, feeling your naked breasts fill his hands. His lips brushed against your neck, shuddering, and you rubbed your hard nipples into his rough palms, grazing your ass over his crotch.

“Fuck…”

You turned your head, viewing him from your periphery, melting into his touch without a word.

Your hands migrated to his sides, sliding down, adorning his hips with your curved fingers.

Taehyung moaned softly, his eyes closing. Hands all over your chest, igniting desire. Hungry but deliberate, no sense in rushing, moving to the sound of the sea. His erection pressed into the dip of your ass, linen and silk separating the skin to skin but not enough to hide the hardness to softness. Exhale. His arms crossed over your chest, soft lips on the base of your neck, and you felt him ghost his fingers down, down, past your bellybutton, dancing over the waistband of your shorts.

With one swift movement, you turned your wrist and covered the back of his hand with yours, dragging him in between the layers.

He gasped as he felt your slick wetness coat his fingertips.

Your other hand slid into his pants, grabbing his ass, pinning Taehyung to you while you pressed his fingers into the outer lips, rocking your hips into it, grinding on his growing arousal, grinning when you heard him swear under his breath again.

He shoved a finger into you.

You both moaned at the same time, the sound drowned by the crashing tide outside.

You pressed another in, and he got the hint. Middle and ring finger, his palm pressed to your throbbing clit, and you rode his hand before he moved, blossoming the pleasure all on your own. His moan rumbled in his chest, biting his lip to avoid any obvious noise. The wet sucking sound was conspicuous enough, and you tightened your core, your pussy clenching around his fingers, prompting Taehyung to lean his chin onto your shoulder, his dark hair brushing against your cheekbone, one hand teasing your nipples, the other between your legs, delicious sparks flying through your body knowing he was actively watching.

“The sounds you make… are insane…”

You weren’t aware until he said it. Soft, breathless gasps drifted out of your own lips, inaudible to anyone except for the inescapable closeness of Taehyung pinning you to his tense body. You could feel the shake creep down to your legs, your silk shorts slipping down your thighs, the fullness of each thrust making your lightheaded. And then, you felt Taehyung slightly curve his fingers.

You sucked in a breath, your eyes shutting, seeing stars, pleasure and want increasing tenfold.

“A-Ah, yes… Taehyung…”

His name polluted by sensuality. Foreign but not unwelcome. A sudden arousing surge of lovely wrongness – after all, you should not be fucking one of your younger brother’s closest friends – but you could tell it had an effect on him too. He squeezed your nipple, making you hiss, and then you felt his tongue flat against the side of your neck, sliding up, his breath hot, his impossibly deep voice husky, his command pleading.

“Cum for me.”

You raised yourself to tiptoes, the curve of your ass against his twitching bulge, and sank your nails into his hip as you came, spilling onto his palm in vibrating shivers, delicately moaning to the ceiling. The intense high rushed up your center, through your limbs, all over your nerves, and you let it take over, shuddering, growing limp in Taehyung’s flexed arms.

As expected, he did not drop you.

You stayed in the heady fog of orgasm, slowly waking as if in a lucid dream. Turned your head and found his lips, or perhaps his lips found yours. It was hard to tell. You drew his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it, sensing a growing desperation in the shallowness of his breath.

You pried your fingernails from his hip, rueful. “I got carried away. My bad.”

A hint of a mischievous smirk on Taehyung’s lips. “I never said I didn’t like it.”

You questioned him with half-moon eyes.

“Someone might see.”

The smirk morphed into more of a roguish smile. There he was. “I can say I got scratched up while roughhousing. They’re not gonna think twice about it,” he teased.

“Tch. Tricky, tricky, aren’t you, Kim Taehyung?”

You twisted like a dancer, breaking from his embrace. He let you go, somewhat reluctantly. His right hand was still glistening, covered in your orgasm. He glanced at it, mesmerized, before realizing you were kicking away your shorts and panties, tossing your unbuttoned top onto the bed. His eyes widened when your hand came into contact with his chest. You slid down. In one swift movement, you lowered to a squat, right in front of the massive tent in his pants.

Taehyung had but a second to intake a breath.

You grazed your palm down his stomach, his bellybutton, to the tie of his pants. Tugged on it, unlacing it, and then you hooked your thumbs onto the sides of the waistband and pushed them down.

Part of you was mildly shocked Taehyung was going commando.

The other part of you thought that was pretty on brand for him.

You weren’t too surprised by what you saw. He was well-kept, clean, and not fully hard yet. The latter was mostly a guess from experience. It wasn’t polite to stereotype Daegu men, but, well. If the shoe fit and all that. You raised your eyes, amused at his stunned expression, and then leaned forward to lick along the thickening length.

“Oh, shit…”

He must have expected you to simply put his cock in your mouth or wrap your hand around it. Instead, you pressed your lips to the hot, velvety skin, decorating him with kisses before flickering out your tongue and wrapping it over the head, rubbing your lips against the underside. Back and forth, curling your tongue around the swelling tip, licking off the leaking pre-cum.

He tasted strong. More enjoyable than most.

You looked up as you worked his shaft. Taehyung gasped and his cock twitched as if to affirm his attraction.

“F-Fuck, what…?”

“You should taste my cum while I suck you off,” you murmured against his balls, licking them all over as you spoke.

He wasn’t used to the multiple sensations. You could tell by his heavy pants and the tension rippling all over his torso. How unfortunate, but you would make up for that right now.

“O-Okay… fuck…”

You watched Taehyung slide his fingers into his open lips and his eyes rolled back, groaning deeply as your essence hit his tongue. In one fluid flick of your head, you swallowed his cock, relaxing as your lips pressed to the base, feeling his girth stretch out your throat. You lowered your tongue, bringing him deeper, and perhaps it was a good idea to have Taehyung lick his fingers off. His shocked whine was stifled by his own hand. You paid it no mind, slowly pulling back and diving forward, his scent filling your nose every time you inhaled, catching glimpses of him sliding his fingers in out of his mouth with each ascent.

Somehow Taehyung made the depraved act look almost dreamy.

Your fingertips balanced on the floorboards, lowering your knees to better support yourself. Not using your hands out of pride. You even leaned your head back, both to gain more air and to take him deeper with less resistance. You saw Taehyung pull his fingers out of his mouth, strings of saliva beading on his lower lip, balancing his fingers by his shivering exhales as he watched you, entranced.

You let the pleasure reflect in your eyes.

“How… wow… fuck, your tits and thighs look so good at this angle…”

The strain was prickling through your limbs. You were far too engrossed in your task to care, feeling your pussy dampen from the intoxicating adrenaline, closing your eyes to focus on the pace. Steady, intense, listening to the deepening sound of his groan, his cock throbbing in your throat, signaling he was close, and then his voice ceased, suspended, lost in the warm, encompassing reverie.

His hips tensed, snapping forward, and Taehyung gasped your name.

His hot orgasm gushed onto the back of your tongue, filling your mouth with the viscous, heady flavor, making you as lightheaded as he sounded. Through his jerking length you could feel the flinches ravage his body, and all of a sudden his large hand pressed against the back of your head, holding you down to the brink of danger.

You swallowed, trying to grasp for a sliver of oxygen.

Taehyung almost doubled over, his erotic cry muffled by his other hand slapping over his mouth, and he half-pulled out of your closed lips, only to slide back in again, slowly, groaning above your head. He was trying to keep quiet and contain his sound within the walls of this room. Everyone else in the house was probably too drunk to string a sentence together, let alone figure out sex was happening under the same roof, but it was best not to take any chances.

His expansive girth was trembling, softening as his sensitivity increased. None of that stopped him from continuing to thrust in post-orgasmic bliss, lengthening his pleasure. You swirled your tongue around him and Taehyung trembled, whispering sweet nothings like smoke, his words melding with the melodic sound of ocean waves.

After a few more thrusts, his grip lessened, backing off.

You drew back, licking your lips, throwing your head back, breathing in a long, greedy gulp of fresh salty air. There was something ethereal about the whole scene. If it wasn’t for the ache in your knees, you might have been deceived into thinking it never happened. His memorable taste was still on your tongue. You swallowed again, and then felt a hand on your elbow.

Wordlessly, you opened your eyes and let Taehyung lift you to your feet.

He stared at you, his hair over his eyes, breathing hard. His chest glistened in the moonlight. The rest of him was shadowed by your naked body.

“I…”

You waited.

“I… I should have asked if you…” He trailed off, grasping your arm tightly.

You half-smiled. “You thought I wouldn’t want to?”

There seemed to be a pink flush on his cheeks. His ears were certainly turning red. “I first wanted to ask you… No, Invite you on a proper date. Not on this vacation but… sometime soon?”

You couldn’t help but tease him. “Why so nervous when we’re naked in front of each other?”

Taehyung spared a glance down and then blushed deeper, clearing his throat. “I don’t know. I’m not usually nervous.” His dark eyes drifted back to your face. “I always thought you were beautiful. But too good for me.”

That almost made you laugh. “Too good? You know my reputation, Taehyung, and ‘good’ does not describe it.”

He shook his head.

Tugged on your arm, pulling you towards him.

“Yin and yang.”

He brought his forehead down, touching yours.

“You need both to have a really great love story.”

You breathed in his rich, warm scent, and leaned in to kiss him again. The sea, the salt air, the heat between you and him, burning, and the next day you were sitting under the beach umbrella again, laying on a teak lounger, book in hand, chocolate brown sunglasses perched on the end of your nose, secretly observing sun-kissed Kim Taehyung diving into the foamy waves as he snuck glances back at you, admiring your watchful form.

You smiled in shade as Taehyung dazzled in the sun.

--

masterpost

[puck-luck]

14 of hearts with Quinn 🙏 they finally talk about starting a family after being at a team event where the reader spent the whole night with the kids and after the families with kids leave she gets sad…and a little drunk

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, breeding kink, PDA WC: 578

You have a slight problem. You’re tipsy and there’s a baby in your arms. You’re drunk enough that you’re not sure exactly who the baby belongs to, but Quinn had been carrying her awkwardly, so you’d scooped her up and decided to dote on her. Of course, you’d had to cross the room to get to him and the baby, your vision tunneling as soon as you spotted him. 

Turns out, Quinn was only holding her so that her parents could wish the hosts goodbye without a tired baby in their arms. She’s taken from you far too soon, which you act gracious about, but inside, you’re pouting. You love babies. They’re so cute and so precious and you love the idea of watching a tiny little human, that you made with the love of your life, learn how to be a person. 

Once the parents are gone, taking your new favorite little friend with them, you pout at Quinn outwardly. “I want one,” you whine petulantly.

Quinn rolls his eyes, but he smiles at you fondly. “You’re drunk,” he says.

“Only a little,” you reply. “And that doesn’t change anything. I still want a baby. I want you to give me one.” You bring your hands to his sides and wrinkle the fabric of his shirt in your hands. 

Quinn covers your hands with his own and removes them from his clothing. He fixes you with an unimpressed look. “We’re in public,” he reminds you.

“Then take me home.” You bring your arms over his shoulders, plastering yourself against his front. You touch his nose in a brief Eskimo kiss, ghosting your lips over his. “We should practice.”

“Practice what?” Quinn asks, playing along. He hugs your middle, keeping you close. You’re both toeing the line of acceptable PDA, especially when you’re at an event with Quinn’s colleagues, but you can’t be bothered. You’re horny and you want to make a mini-Quinn. You’ve seen his baby pictures– he was adorable. 

“Making a baby,” you sing-song, toying with his hair. He hasn’t cut it since the start of the season, so it’s growing nice and long. He also hasn’t shaved in a little while, so his facial hair is your favorite length. “I’ll let you come inside me as many times as you want.”

“Tempting,” Quinn laughs. “But, again, baby– you’re drunk.”

“I’m horny,” you correct.

“You’re horny because you’re drunk,” Quinn says. He pecks your lips. “I promise, as soon as we’re both sober, we can do every little dirty thing you could ever dream of.”

“You’re no fun,” you tell him with a frown. 

Quinn allows one of his hands to drift lower and pat your ass. He kisses your cheek, then puts his mouth right next to your ear. “We can have a lot of fun tomorrow,” he mutters. “When you’re sober. I want you to remember every second when I try and knock you up for the first time, baby.”

You straighten your posture a bit, reacting to his words. You sway with him a bit like you’re slow-dancing. It’s certainly out of place in this environment, to be holding your boyfriend so close for this long, but you don’t care. You want to be touching him and you like what he’s saying.

“Gonna look so pretty with my cum dripping out of you, sweetheart,” Quinn continues. “But I’ll have to make sure it stays inside somehow. We can’t take any chances, can we?”

[itgetzweird08]

one two three four

katsuki bakugo x Gn!reader

One week later

T-Minus three weeks until the dance

—------------

 “Good Morning!” 

For so early in the morning, the rat principal was very cheerful. The same couldn’t be said for his human climbing tree. Mr. Aizawa stood slouched, eyes dark and face heavy with lack of sleep. Nezu sat snuggly in the binding cloths on the tired man’s shoulder. Mitsuki had only spoken to the principal on a handful of occasions, and she always thought he was very…unique. But he was damn good at his job, and he really cared about his students. That's why Mitsuki had such a good feeling about the request she was about to make, despite it being such a large one. 

“‘Morning. Thanks for meeting with me, I know your schedules are probably packed with everything going on around here.”

Nezu smiled cheerfully at the woman, waving a paw in dismissal. “Nonsense! I’m always happy to meet with a parent, especially you, Mrs. Bakugo. Young Bakugo is an amazing student and has done a lot for the country. We owe him a lot. Now, let’s get into the conference room. From the summary of your reason for meeting that you gave me, I figured it would be best that the rest of the faculty joined us as well.”

The three walked into the conference room, with Mitsuki taking a seat at the head of the table. Around the table sat the UA teachers, Hounddog, and Hawks. While initially shocked by his presence, she realized that it made sense. In her email to Nezu, she mentioned that the subject of the meeting had to do with bending an international rule, and Hawks had a lot of contact with other countries as the new head of the Hero Commission.  She was grateful he was here, as she knew he had a particular soft spot for Katsuki. If she remembered correctly, he called him “A little asshole with a lot of spunk”. She thought it was a fair statement.

After exchanging greetings and pleasantries, and accepting a cup of tea from Present Mic, she began the meeting.

“Thank you all for being here. I recognize that you all are busy so I’m gonna try and make this quick,” Mitsuki sat up straighter, folding her hands together as she looked around the table. “A couple of years ago, Katsuki met another hero student at the I-Expo. They stayed in contact for a while, got really close, and eventually started dating. They care for each other, a lot. They talk every night and are a huge pillar of support for one another. So much so that,” 

Mitsuki found herself getting choked up. She always did when she thought about the possibility that she would have to deliver that letter to you. She cleared her throat, taking a breath. She hated crying, especially in front of people. After a moment, she continued.

“Right before the war, Katsuki gave me a box to send them in case something happened to him. He truly cares about them. On that note, as you all know, the Spring Dance is coming up. Despite what most people think, Katsuki actually enjoys dressing up. I thought he would be excited about the dance, but he wasn’t. In fact, he’s dreading it. All his friends have been talking about are their dates, and Katsuki refuses to take anyone but them. Now, for my request. Katsuki died for this country. This is his last chance for some fun before graduating and becoming a real pro. So please,” she bowed deeply as she spoke. Mitsuki had a lot of pride and was known for rarely ever apologizing or bowing to anyone. But Katsuki deserved to be happy. She just wanted her kid to be okay.

“Please allow them to attend as Katsuki’s date. I can give you records, letters of recommendation, and even character statements. They are a great kid and an even better student. They would cause no trouble. I just want Katsuki to be happy.”

The room was silent as all of the staff looked at Mitsuki. They then looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. Finally, Hawks broke the silence. “To be honest with you, Mrs. Bakugo, this is a complicated situation. Other countries still don’t have a particularly great view of Japan. Trying to convince them that they should allow a pardon, just for a school dance? Realistically, it’s damn near impossible,” Mitsuki felt her heart sink, a disappointed sigh leaving her. Well, at least no one could say she didn’t tr- 

“However, you make a very compelling point. Young Bakugo saved not only Japan but the rest of the world. He is, without a doubt, a hero. I make you no promises on what the rest of the commission or international board might say, but I can promise that I will advocate for Bakugou and get you an answer before the end of the week.” 

Mitsuki broke out into a rare, wide, sincere grin. She bowed once more to the room, bending deeply.

“Thank you all.”

————

It was about 15 minutes before your usual morning talk with Katsuki when you got the call. Before the war, Katsuki gave you his parents' contact info in case of an emergency. You had only spoken to them on a handful of occasions, wishing them a happy birthday or anniversary, shouting ‘Hello!’ when you were on the phone and Katsuki was at home. But you had never really spoken to them one-on-one until Mitsuki called you.

You answered without hesitation, disregarding your normal early morning TikTok scroll. Something had to be wrong for her to call you, you figured. Your voice was frantic when you answered. “Hello? Is everything alright Mrs. Bakugou? Is Katsu-“

“Chillax kid! Jeez!” 

You blinked, confused at her tone. Okay, so clearly there wasn’t an emergency. 

“I’m sorry, I thought something was wrong. You’ve never called before-“ 

“Sorry, I should make more of a habit of calling my future daughter in law” 

You chose to ignore her comment. “So..if there’s no emergency, not to be rude, why are you calling?” You could picture her shit-eating grin in your head, knowing it was where Katsuki had gotten it from. 

“Well…I spoke to Hawks, you know the head of the hero commission here in Japan, he spoke with your government and pulled some strings…how would you like to be Katsuki’s date to the Spring dance?”

————

I’m having trouble tagging some of yall 😔. Anyways sorry this is so late, uni has been beating me into the floor 😭

Taglist: : @sleepyeri @teeesthings @zaiban2989 @kathsuhki @rinbeeyum @oladelmars @luv-for-fictional-characters @attackonnat @ratcity12345 @bffrs-stuff @ch3rryjampi3 @venus1224idkpleaze @fiannee @consentismfhot @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @bl-og134 @amayaaaxx @mikestuffffs @mushroomsoup119 @thatprettybunny @wheezdostuff @devils-adversary @enony-da @matchat3a @kawliflo @urmomsbananabread @anicaaa67 @that-sweet-mars @crimsonrubie @xanneeeyyyy @sweetloveandaffection-blog @ghostreadersthings @itsdragonius @snore-3 @sleepyk0dyz @ririoutspoken @ivuriexo @getosuckers

[lailols]

TXT as popular tropes!

Soobin: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

- maybe your moms were close friends so they decided to make their kids of similar ages friends too

- inviting you to each others houses for play dates and cooing over you

- naturally, y’all grew close

- going through life together and growing into the people you are today without losing the other

- genuinely, you know each other so well :(

- having PEAK communication because neither of you are letting small disagreements get between y’all

- as you get older and remain close, your parents start subtly (LOUDLY) shipping you guys

- bin’s family calling you guys a couple because wherever one is, the other isn’t far

- your family definitely calls the other if one’s not answering

- neither of you really put much thought into it, but knew that when imagining your future the other was there

- you both dated other people but never really felt a spark

- the confession comes randomly, just as you guys are talking about your experience with love

- maybe it was always in the back of your mind how you felt

- when it happened, everything felt right

- like every moment in your life was leading to this

“I love you”

“I love you too”

“No, I mean I love you”

“Yeah, I love you too”

- then you make out :D

Yeonjun: Rivals to Lovers

- you’re both gunning for captain of the dance team

- it’s for fun, but you’re both so damn competitive and passionate about what you do that it’s really not

- making playful jabs at each other that never cross boundaries but pushes the other to do better

- truly creating higher expectations for the rest of the team

- in spite of the competition, you both help each other out

- staying later to practice together, watching the others routine to critique, or making choreographies together

- the complements you share feel different because they go beyond the usual “you’re so cool” or “you dance so well”

- it’s deeper than that because you both understand the drive behind what you do

- the desire to be on stage and perform

- you confide in each other because you never fear the other seeing you as less of a dancer or a person

- you also make sure he’s taking care of himself, knowing his habit of prioritizing dance over his well being

- (threats are made to make sure he’s healthy)

- the team definitely placed bets on who they thought would be captain and you guys started your own bet

“Congrats, captain”

“Thanks, co-captain”

“So, what do you want?”

“I want you to treat me to dinner”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m paying for the next one”

Beomgyu: Musician x Muse

- the real loser lover yearners

- every song you write comes back to the other

- but you never tell :(

- you’re one of his biggest motivations

- you hang out once and BOOM three new song ideas

- he’ll hold little concerts for you

- playing songs he’d never share with anyone else

- you def have writing dates

- spontaneously breaking out into song with each other

- it’s like a game

- he “mocks” the songs you write (like he does with jun) but that’s just because you write bangers and there can only be room for one super talented friend in the room

- you’re on the front row for any set he has

- he winks at you while on stage and every around you screams thinking it’s for them but you know

- alternatively, he’s damn near on the stage from how close he is during your sets

- you want to sing? No Y’ALL are singing

- sometimes he’s louder than you even though he’s in the crowd and you have a WHOLE ASS MIC

- you guys cover each others song and it’s so :(

- like wdym the love of my life is singing a song i wrote ABOUT them :((

- the duet you guys release has everyone in shambles

- it’s a conversation between two people and honestly it’s the perfect way to confess

“This song is about someone special to me”

“Or, two special someones”

“It’s a conversation between them which is ironic because we’ve never really talked about it”

“But, you know, right?”

“I know”

Taehyun: Grumpy x Sunshine

- Tae isn’t a grump, he just doesn’t take bullshit

- add that to his generally “cold” exterior, and he’s sending a lot of people running for the hills

- which is exactly why no one can figure out how the literal embodiment of sunshine is his friend

- there is a difference between kind and nice, and you are definitely the latter

- you aren’t necessarily stepped on, but you take a lot more than you probably should

- you guys are basically polar opposites, so how do you fit so well together?

- it’s because you aren’t so different in the end

- in the comforts of your room, you allow each other to break

- to put aside the “characters” you play in the real world

- tae can smile and joke and laugh without having to deal with people gaping at the fact that he has “real” emotions

- you can complain and cry and yell without having people assume that the way you act is a lie

- in the comforts of these four walls, you guys become a mirror of the other

- it’s so sweet to have someone that you can just be completely human with

- no masks, no facades, no faking, just you

- in the beginning, most of your hangouts ended in one (or both) of you crying :(

- but now it’s normal for one of you to pull the other to your room to escape

- it eventually just turns into talking/gossip sessions

“So… how do you feel?”

“I feel like I want to take you out on a date”

“I’d like that”

Hueningkai: Best Friend’s Brother

- when you first saw kai, you’re pretty sure you died and went to heaven

- there’s no way an angel is opening the door to your gremlin of a friend’s house

- there’s no other explanation

- you guys literally just stand there for a good five minutes looking at each other before you’re so RUDELY interrupted

- after that, it’s sneaking glances at the other when you’re both in the same room

- it’s smiles and watching anime together cause no one else does

- kai finding any occasion to buy you a plushie of one character or another

- you suddenly being SO THIRSTY and having to go get water every hour on the dot and Kai just happens to do the same

- you guys get along so well :(

- so much pining between the two of you

- genuinely, your friend must feel like a third wheel even though you came to see HER

- Kai begging to crash your girl’s nights and being refused by everyone

- but then you’re back the next day because you “missed them” and since it’s not technically girls night, he can stay

- the way neither of you know the other’s feelings is so :(

- until his sister suddenly screams for one of you to confess and then storming out of the room

“So… about what she said…. Was it true?

“Yes, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same…“

“Of course, I feel the same! Have you seen yourself?”

————————-

I left Kai’s sister unnamed so you could be older/younger than him

I love txt so much :( I wish there was more writing for them

Please this is my first thing ever don’t be mean, I WILL cry

If you like it, let me know anything else you’d like to see :))

<3

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hi 👋🏽 I really like your stuff! I was wondering; could we possibly have some platonic headcanons for Husk where he has this unspoken kind of parent-kid relationship with the reader?

And the funny thing is that some of the others speculate that it’s no coincidence that the reader’s weirdly good at cards. Like, the reader doesn’t look exactly like him per say, but they bare enough of a resemblance to him that it has the other wondering is Husk could have possibly (unknowingly) had a kid while he was alive. No one knows. Not even us.

♦️ plz, and thank you ♥️

This is so fucking cute!!

Husk X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Reader being a sad baby, Kidnapping, Underage drinking, Harassment, Reader needs help fr

Description: ☝️⬆️

Sure, technically you were an adult but you're also still just a kid

You thought you knew everything, you thought you were grown and didn't need to rely on anybody

You didn't need to open up to anybody, you grew up tough and went out like a badass

You weren't hurt or angry at the world at all

It's your attitude towards these things that makes Husk look out for you, keeping a watchful eye on you even when you don't want him to

You're trying to get a drink at a bar?? He's dragging you out and telling you that you're too young for that shit

Fucking hypocrite you drink all the time

You're getting into a fight with someone 10x your fucking size?? Husk is there to tackle them and take you home

Lectures you the entire way back if you're the one who started it

Some sleazy motherfucker is hitting on you?(Or even if it's not someone sleazy really) He's there to tell them to keep walking

Even if you don't want them to

BRO WTF

Even the others at the hotel slip up and call him your dad which just pisses you off even more

"Angel! Let me have a drink!!"

"No way, kid! Your pops would totally kill me if I let you get wasted!"

Definitely causes some arguments between you two, the kind that makes everyone else in the hotel scatter

"You're not in charge of me, Husk! Just leave me alone!!"

"You think you got it all figured out, don't you? Well you fucking don't! You're not the biggest baddest thing out there! Hell, you're not even the baddest thing in this hotel!"

Not Alastor giving you cheeky wave as he walks by

Once the fight reaches it's peak then you storm off, fed up with being treated like a child

"I don't need a father so just back off!"

Husk needs a drink

Fine, let's see how you like it when nobody is looking out for you

You and Husk don't speak for awhile after that but you're too stubborn to admit that you miss him

You begin to act out whether you realize it or not, wanting him to come and yell at you like he used to

It was actually nice having someone who cared enough about you to fight with you over your choices

So you take your newfound freedom and sneak into a club that you've been trying to get into for awhile

You meet some fun people and party with them, drinking every drink they slide your way, dancing with whoever grabbed you

After awhile though you begin to feel dizzy and sick, you desperately need some fresh air

And some water

"Hey where you going, squirt??? We're just getting started!!"

Hey let go-

Ow! That hurts! Why are you grabbing so hard!?

I said let go of me-

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

HUSK-

You nearly cry at the sight of him, fur bristling with anger, wings spread out, arms crossed

You break away and run to him immediately, hugging him tight and relaxing as he wraps a protective arm around you

You'll blame it on the alcohol later

"You okay, kid?"

You don't see how he never takes his eyes off your friends turned attackers

You just nod and hide your face in his chest, squeezing him tighter

"I wanna go home..."

Husk immediately softens up and carries you home, making sure nobody follows the two of you

He takes care of you the entire night and has a hangover remedy ready for you in the morning

No lecture from him this time, he just quietly takes care of you then leaves

Charlie and Vaggie will later tell you that he stayed with you the whole night, refusing to leave your side

You'll have to seek him out on your own once you feel better, sitting on a bar stool and clearing your throat

"I'm not going to fix you a drink so just forget it-"

"Thank you...for...you know..."

Husk visibly softens up once he registers your words, sighing as he sets his rag down

It takes all of his strength to power through his next words, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable

Telling you that he's not trying to baby you when he stops you from doing certain things, or when he tells you that you're too young

He's just trying to look out for you because he cares about you

And no matter how angry with him you get, he'll always come bail you out of trouble and you can always come to him with anything

Sure, he might not be your father but he's definitely your daddy

Wait fuck that came out wrong

DON'T YOU LAUGH AT HIM

It sounded cool in the movie!!

It's not that funny!! You are ruining the moment

Husk is so fucking embarrassed now, forget he said anything

Freezes up when you suddenly leap across the counter to hug his neck, squeezing him in a way that makes his heart melt

Hugs you back while awkwardly petting your head, feeling like his old heart is about to burst

"Thanks for everything, Husk~"

NO HE'S NOT CRYING

I GOT VERY CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I'M SORRY!! I hope you still enjoy it!!

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

maaan it'd be so EASY for chaggie to end up with an adopted cannibal kid after the battle with heaven, tho

with Vaggie's past (and that being a Thing she can Charlie can talk about now), her having her big WAIT THIS IS EVIL IM BEING EVIL moment over a cannibal child she couldn't bring herself to kill....

add to that Charlie, who is now the DIRECT reason quite a few cannibals are Extra Super Dead, thanks to her inspiring them into battle with her song-

"Have you ever felt like you're willing to die-"

very rousing, maybe less fun for her to remember after some of them DID die-

oh hush y'all eat ppl im sure dying isn't the most shocking outcome of a night out that you can imagine

Charlie legit pitched facing final death as a "chance to travel" and "see more of hell" and she did it with a jolly song and dance and GOOD ON HER for getting a fighting force to protect the dream of sinners someday being redeemed! ....but yeah. kinda heavy for her to remember later on, i'd think

and Cannibal Town residents are so tight knit with each other that it's a literal PLOT POINT Charlie has to face off against- no way they don't have families, no way there weren't families broken up by the battle at the Hazbin Hotel- at Charlie's hotel

No way Charlie wouldn't feel guilty about and responsible as FUCK for any little cannibal kid who ended up orphaned as a result....

ahem

(is that kid wearing like frisbee on their head?? whatever. it looks kinda like a halo don't it. kinda ironic. isn't it)

Rosie would even have to SUGGEST anything! She's got a good read on Charlie now and she's 100% on board with Alastor's plans to "guide" Charlie (cough manipulate and use cough cough)

and what would make a better leverage point than introducing a little cannibal kid for Charlie to worry and feel guilty over? an ORPHANED cannibal kid. Orphaned by the same fight Charlie led the cannibals into. Orphaned when the kid's parents DIED fighting for Charlie

(great way for Charlie to always keep Cannibal Town in mind anyway. Good way to make sure she's protective of it)

but oh the irony if Rosie didn't even MEAN for chaggie to end up with the kid!

if Rosie DIDN'T fully understand- just how much Charlie would want to give a loving family and childhood to someone, when she herself had one and is now dealing (trying to deal) with all that crumbling away as an adult-

ALSO THO. IF. Hypothetically. the orphan was the same kid Vaggie spared. Like how many sinner kids are there in hell. Not too many running around. If it was the same kid. if Vaggie saw that

....if the kid saw her- or, no, even better- if when she tried talking quietly with them, and when they heard her voice like that they looked up at her suddenly like

cannibal kid: "...Go."

Vaggie: (instantly standing up) "Right, sorry- I'll go get Charlie, or- would you rather Rosie-" (stops) (looks down)

Vaggie: "...?"

cannibal kid: (is holding onto the end of her hair ribbon)

cannibal kid: (whispering) "Run."

cannibal kid: (hopefully) "Now...?"

Vaggie: "...you, remember?"

cannibal kid: (nods)

Vaggie: (slowly sits back down)

Vaggie: "Yeah, hey. That was... that was a thing, wasn't it. It's, been a while. Three years... didn't think you'd recognize me."

cannibal kid: "Didn't. Look different."

Vaggie: "The long hair, missing eye and missing wings is a lot of change, huh?"

cannibal kid: (shrugs) "You're happy." (sniffles) "It's different."

Vaggie: ".....well, Charlie's the one who did all that. She's, pretty great at that stuff. And she'd like make things different for you too now. If you want."

cannibal kid: "........if I stay at the hotel... can I play with Razzle every day? Not, not just when princess Charlie brings him over?"

Vaggie: "Kinda looks like your stuck with him either way to me. Maybe check he's getting enough air, stuffed down into your coat front like that?"

cannibal kid: (unbuttoning an air hole for Razzle) "But he belongs at the hotel, where Dazzle's murmur- marble- um- murder dial-"

Vaggie: "Memorial..?"

cannibal kid: "Where Dazzle's memorial is."

Vaggie: "If you're okay leaving Cannibal Town, you can belong there too."

cannibal kid: "I'm okay leaving town."

cannibal kid: (beat)

cannibal kid: "It's boring."

Vaggie: "Yeah well, the hotel is definitely not gonna be boring."

cannibal kid: "Does it get blown up EVERY week, or just on special occasions?"

Vaggie: "It sure felt like every week but we're trying to cut back."

cannibal kid: "Dang."

please imagine tho, Charlie seeing this sad orphan kid who won't talk to anyone, maybe even "hasn't so much as had a nibble on anyone, the poor little biter" according to Rosie, since being orphaned-

and the next time Charlie visits she brings RAZZLE

and she introduce the two of them, then stands back and watches her childhood plushy turned demon win over this kid SO FAST, disappearing into their tiny but fierce little hugs, getting them to share a donut with him, showing them how to do a little song and dance routine (one him, Charlie, and Dazzle used to do) bringing a bit of normalcy back to a kid who's parents are dead because of her-

Charlie thinking to herself, that the least she can do, really, is give this kid as many of the best parts of HER own childhood as she can

[vivwritesfics]

Lando Norris HC's

I'm burnt out and exhausted and I just want someone to love me haha

Masterlist

Lando

Where to begin?

He's... something else

Don't get me wrong, he's amazing

What's not to love?

High performance athlete who also streams on Twitch

Every bit the golden retriever boyfriend everybody wanted

Every bit the golden retriever boyfriend Y/N got

This man? Attention WHORE

He doesn't stop

Comes out with the weirdest stuff

It's so much fun

Wants his girlfriend with him for race weekends

Because he hates going a long time without pissing her off

Very important that his girlfriend gets along with Carlos

She's there when they're pissing about

During their McLaren days?

Mayhem

You kind of have a love every minute of it if you're dating Lando

Sitting in while he streams sometimes

Not every time

But being in the room, doing something while he streamed

Y/N could be doing her own work while Lando gamed and streamed

Chief cuddler

But can't sit still long enough for them to properly cuddle

Loves getting his hair played with

Oooooo running your fingers through Lando Norris' hair? Literally can't imagine anything better

Stealing hats and hoodies purely because they smell like him

Lando loves snogging

Kissing by lamp light, hands on her hips, grip almost bruising

Or his hands would be on her face, pushing away her hair

Man loves marking up

Marking up his girl and being marked up

Aka, hand prints, hickies, scratches down his back

Lando loved that the most

Feeling her nails raking down the skin of his back

Plus, it was easy to hide

Unless he was participating in an ice bath

Then he'd mark her up twice as good, since she couldn't leave marks on him

Out in the club, Lando is very touchy

Aka, doesn't let go of her

Holding her hand

Holding her hips or her ass as they danced

Y/N becoming one of the more photographed WAG's

Simply because she didn't want to stay hidden

She wanted the world to see her with Lando

She wanted the world to know how much she loved her man

After a race, when Lando was in the top three, he'd climb of the car, wave to the crowd, run over to the McLaren team at the barriers to celebrate

And then he'd pull Y/N against the barrier and she'd kiss his helmet, where she'd think his lips would be

Holidays with Lando!!

Oh my god, literally the best

Fancy hotels and Yachts

Adventuring together

Holidaying with other drivers

There was one particular holiday

It was very spontaneous, they hadn't booked anything

Just hopped off a plane and off they went

To the Canary Islands

It was difficult to get a hotel

When they landed, they could only get one

It was... hell

Kids everywhere, booming music like baby shark playing around the pool all day

It was all inclusive, with drunk, neglectful parents spending every minute getting burnt on the sun loungers or around the buffet

Y/N and Lando found themselves as far away from the pool and buffet as they possibly could

Y/N would be reading her book as Lando did... something

When parents came and took their kids for dinner, they got a break from it

They could go in the pool without kids swimming into them

The hotel had crazy golf

Happy Lando

Happy Lando dragging Y/N around the crazy golf course, giggling like a child

Driving with Lando

Ugh, simply the best

Driving around Monaco in the Fiat Jolly (before he sold it) with his hand on her thigh

Driving in any vehicle with Lando's hand on her thigh

Hitting every red light

Kissing at the stop signs (darling)

Lando belting out the lyrics to any song that comes on

Having a car playlist so that the both of them could sing along

Going to Lando's parents for Christmas

Traditional British Christmas

Aka, roast dinner, pulling crackers, drinking, playing board games and ending the night with a cheese board

Taking his girlfriend around Guildford while they're in the UK

(I'm pretty sure it's Guildford - a youtube video from five years ago just popped up which said Guildford)

(Guildford is the halfway point between where I live now and where I actually live)

After a year and a half, Lando asks her to move in with him

Six months after that, they get a dog

A Doberman, collie, or golden retriever, I think

The name? Badger

Why? Daniel

Aka, Daniel knew the couple were going to adopt a dog

He had to get himself involved somehow and

He placed a wager - if Lando finished below P5 he'd get to name the dog

Y/N readily accepted

Lando DNFed that race

And so, the dog was named after the honey badger himself

To this day, Lando doesn't know

Lando is such a good dog dad

The dog doesn't come to the race weekends like Roscoe does with Lewis

Either Y/N stays home or the dog stays with a trusted friend if they had both gone

Lando's social media becomes a fan account for the dog

Having oh so many pregnancy scares with this man

Who doesn't love a late night run to the shop to get a pregnancy test or two?

They do eventually get pregnant

Y/N finds out on a race weekend

She was at home with Badger when she saw the pregnancy test in her bathroom cabinet

Video calling her best friend, Y/N took it

She waited the mandatory couple of minutes before she checked the little stick

She had to hang up on her friend

It was just meant to be for fun

Nothing serious

But then it turned serious

What the fuck was she going to do?

When the fuck would she tell Lando?

Should she tell him now, before he's about to go and race?

Yeah no, not a chance

Not with how much she was currently freaking out

She waits until he gets home from the race weekend

The test (and all of the others she'd done) had been thrown in the bin

All she had was herself

This was fine

She wasn't freaking out

(she was freaking out big time)

Y/N stayed up, waiting with Badger for Lando to come home

As soon as the door opened, she jumped up and faced him

Lando dropped his things when he saw her

He'd assumed she'd been asleep when he got in

But no, she was still awake

And he'd been waiting for him

Warmth spread through him

Normally, when Y/N waited up for Lando, she'd jump into his arms

But not this time

No

She just stood there, staring at him

"I've got something to tell you"

Anxiety spread through Lando

Y/N told him

He dropped to his knees

Well, his one knee

For the longest time Lando had been looking for a sign that he should propose

He wanted to, he desperately wanted to

He was just looking for some sort of sign

This wasn't a sign, it was a slap in the face

With all of the racing, Lando hadn't yet managed to buy her a ring

He'd really meant to

When he got down onto one knee, it was at the very back of his mind

"Marry me?"

Yeah, that was how he asked

Of course, Y/N said yes

Lando began running around, looking for some rope or yarn or twine that he could wrap around her finger until he got a proper ring

[ak-vintage]

Sweet As

Pairing: Francisco Morales/f! babysitter reader

Summary: Frankie comes home after a long day at work and learns how you have been keeping cool in the midst of a heat wave.

Prompt: Frankie Morales x Grapes

Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI, 6 years post-Triple Frontier, single dad Frankie, flight instructor Frankie, babysitter reader, dual POV, age gap (not specified, but reader is a grad student), minimal descriptors of reader character, no use of y/n, domestic, sweet, mutual pining, food as foreplay, frottage, pussy pronouns, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), trying to keep quiet, trying not to get caught, undefined but hopeful ending

Word Count: 7.5K

Written for the @happypedrohours Charcuterie Board Challenge.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

Read on AO3

You had always been a summer girl, but even you had your limits.

It was week three of the most severe heatwave the south had seen in a decade, and even with the Morales’s air conditioner running at full capacity, you still couldn’t help but park yourself directly under the ceiling fan with a sweating glass of iced tea. Mila, thankfully, hadn’t fought you during bedtime tonight, the six-year-old nearly dead on her feet after a full day of summer activities – a bike ride around the block before the heat of the day had set in, a dance party after lunch, hours in her swimsuit weaving in and out of the sprinkler in the back yard. You had done your best to keep up with her sunscreen, but she still sported a little flush on her round, tan cheeks as she crawled into bed, making little snuffling snores before you had even finished telling her goodnight.

There was a part of you that envied it, the way she could just collapse into sleep, not a care in the world, while you were stuck at the kitchen table late into the night, your laptop and textbooks strewn across its surface. The perils of holding down a full-time babysitting gig while also taking summer classes, you supposed.

It was worth it, though. Mila was a sweet girl, a total social butterfly, full of giggles and sweetness, easily the most fun kid you had ever cared for. And Frankie, her father…

Mr. Morales, you reminded yourself with a quick shake of your head.

Mr. Morales was a dream to work for. Respectful, pleasant, communicative, fair. A great parent to his daughter – a single dad, the only one in your regular client rotation. He paid you well for your time, and he was generous with his recreation budget, always making sure to leave cash in the top kitchen drawer for ice cream treats, trips to the pool, matinee movies. You really couldn’t have asked for a better job for the summer.

It didn’t hurt that he was absurdly handsome, in a rugged, lived-in sort of way. Not that it mattered, of course; he was your boss, more than a decade your senior, and you were, above all else, a professional. Hitting on the kids’ dads? The biggest babysitting faux pas. You liked to think you had more class than that.

However, class or not, you were still just a woman, and Francisco Morales? He was all man.

A blue-collar, ex-military guy in his mid-forties, he was tall and impossibly broad in the shoulders with long, muscular arms, a soft tummy that peaked out over the waistband of his jeans, and a head full of dark brown curls that were constantly just a little squished by a dark, well-worn ballcap bearing the Standard Oil logo. He started out a bit reserved in the beginning, not at all unfriendly but certainly someone who took some time to open up to new people, but in the months since you had started working for him, the two of you had developed a comfortable rapport.

So, if you dragged yourself out of bed an hour early just so you could get to his house in time enough to share a cup of coffee with him before he left for work, well…that was just relationship building with a client, wasn’t it? If you found yourself lingering in the driveway every time he walked you out to your car at the end of the day, extending the conversation more and more, delaying your departure as long as you could manage, that was just…friendship, right? Comradery.

And if, on nights like tonight, you received a series of clunky, unpunctuated texts asking you to stay late on short notice and you agreed without question, that was just going above and beyond. That was you being a good employee.

It definitely wasn’t you genuinely wanting to help out the struggling single father, not because you were being paid to do so, but because he deserved it. And you definitely didn’t take a deep, personal satisfaction in knowing that he trusted you, knowing that he relied on you.

It was all above board. All friendly. All completely and totally normal.

These were the things you told yourself, anyway. It helped you to keep your traitorous heart in check.

It was nearing 10:00 PM by the time Frankie finally pulled into his driveway, his eyelids heavy, his limbs leaden and slicked with sweat. One of the ‘copters at the flight school where he worked had required some major repairs after a clumsy takeoff by one of the students earlier that afternoon had resulted in damage to the rotor blades, and he had volunteered to stay behind after hours and help with the effort so the thing wouldn’t have to spend the entire next day grounded. He was an instructor these days, but his assistance had still been welcomed. In the years he had spent attempting to earn back his pilot’s license after his…indiscretions, he had spent a fair amount of time working as an aviation mechanic to make ends meet.

Even then, at the lowest point of his life, he hadn’t been able to keep himself away from a hangar.

It had been back-breaking work, and Frankie hated having to ask you to stay late when he knew you had your own life, your own friends, your own dreams outside of babysitting his kid, but the repairs were complete now, which meant that none of the instructors would need to cancel any of their lessons for the following day. And when the flight school’s students were, more often than not, rich old men and their trust fund sons who didn’t take well to being told “no,” the extra effort would not go unnoticed.

Now, however, as he shifted his pickup truck into park next to your beat-up old Ford Focus, all he could think about was getting into the air conditioning, taking off his boots, and sitting down at the kitchen table under the ceiling fan with you.

It was the only advantage, really, of these late nights. Infrequent though they were, Frankie couldn’t deny that there was something special about coming home to find his daughter tucked up in bed, happy and tired and well-fed, and you at the table with your schoolwork strewn out in front of you. There was something peaceful and almost painfully domestic about it, something that had his chest swelling with a feeling that he couldn’t quite identify but that he knew for certain was not something one was meant to feel for one’s babysitter.

It was the same feeling he got when you started accepting his offers of coffee in the mornings before he left for work, or when you noticed that he had started purchasing the sugary-sweet creamer you preferred when he had only ever drunk his coffee black. It was the same feeling he got when he came home on one of the first nights of this fucking wretched heatwave to find you chasing his daughter around the back yard with an armful of water balloons, the both of you soaked to the skin and giggling as you pelted each other relentlessly.

It was the same feeling he got when he walked you out to your car and he watched you grip the driver’s door handle so tight your knuckles turned pale, watched you glance down at his lips one too many times to be proper. Soft mouth parted, long lashes casting shadows across your sun-kissed cheeks, perfect breasts rising and falling with your quickened breath –

Frankie brought the heels of his hands up to his eyes, pressing hard, scrubbing across his face to banish the thought. He had no business thinking of you like that, noticing you like that, and he needed to get it together before he walked through the front door and found you precisely where he had imagined you. This might have been his home, but it was your place of work, and he refused to be one of those skeevy dads who made the babysitter uncomfortable.

Gathering himself, Frankie hopped down out of the truck and jogged up the front porch steps. Slipping his keyring from his front pocket, he opened the door as quietly as he could manage and kicked his well-worn boots off onto the mat inside the entryway.

Before he could announce his arrival, however, your voice called out to him, hushed and warm.

“Welcome home, Mr. Morales,” you said sweetly, glancing up at him from your favorite chair at his table. He could see you there through the kitchen doorway, hair piled haphazardly on top of your head, eyes tired but soft, happy. You had gotten even more sun today, your cheeks, nose, and forehead tinged with pink, and you wore an oversized T-shirt and a pair of almost sinfully short shorts, the kind with the elastic waist that looked soft to the touch. Frankie tried and failed not to trace the length of your legs with his eyes, not to imagine the plush softness of your thighs, the suppleness of your calves.

Dragging his gaze back up to your face, praying that you hadn’t caught the trajectory of his traitor eyes, he was somewhat surprised to find you studying him, as well. Rather intently, as a matter of fact. He squinted down at himself, puzzled, and noticed for the first time what you must be staring at: he was a mess.

He was smudged with grease from head to toe, dark streaks of the oily substance arcing across his jeans, his uniform polo, his bare forearms, the backs of his hands. His skin, where it was visible, shone with sweat in the dim entryway light, and his shirt clung to his upper body like a second skin from the heat (moisture-wicking fabric, his ass). The weather would have been enough to have him in a state, but the late night combined with the manual labor had clearly taken its toll.

He watched the long column of your throat bob as you swallowed thickly.

“Rough day?” you asked after a beat of tense silence, keeping your voice low so as not to wake Mila.

Frankie felt his lips lift at the corner, offering you a fatigued half-smile. “A bit, yeah. But better now.”

You pressed your mouth into a thin line as though smothering a grin. “Glad to hear it.” Gesturing at the chair opposite you, you added, “Why don’t you come have a seat, and I’ll heat up some leftovers for you? You have to be starving.”

Fuck, now that you mentioned it, he was starving. He and the small crew of mechanics had taken a brief snack break while they worked, partaking of whatever hodgepodge of junk they had been able to liberate from the vending machine in the office, but that bag of chips and stale granola bar had left his system hours ago now. Still, even as his stomach growled with hunger, he couldn’t help but protest, “You don’t need to do that, cariño. It’s not your job to cook for me on top of everything else you do around here.”

You waved his words away with a flippant flick of your wrist, already on your feet and heading for the refrigerator. “I’ve told you, it’s not a problem. I cook anyway for me and Mila. Why wouldn’t I make a little extra for you while I’m at it?” You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Now sit down. I’ve got this.”

As the container of leftover pasta rotated in the pale yellow light of the microwave, you took a moment to gather yourself, to reign in the surge of want that had pulsed through you at the sight of your employer hovering in the entryway.

Miles of golden tan skin shining with sweat, pooling in the little hollow at the base of his neck. His uniform polo unbuttoned as far down as it would go, showing a sliver of gray ribbed undershirt. Grease smudged across one high cheekbone, streaked across his hands. You needed those hands on you, needed him to transfer those dark marks onto your skin, your clothes, to leave a trail across your body so you could remember everywhere he had touched you, so you could see it when you looked in the mirror.

“How was Mila today? She behave herself all right?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, quickly schooling your face into what you hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression before turning back around to face him. “Oh, yeah, she was great. We had a good day today.”

Frankie – Mr. Morales – smiled fondly at that. “Good, that’s good. No more, uh, meltdowns in the afternoon?”

“No, things have been pretty smooth since we started digging through that article I found. ‘30 Activities to Keep Kids Cool in the Summer’ or whatever. It’s been a huge help.” You chuckled wryly. “Once I figured out a way to let her be outside in the afternoons without running the risk of heatstroke, she’s been great.”

“Right, right.” He settled himself in the chair across from yours, running the side of his fingers across his patchy stubble in thought. “That’s what gave you the idea for the water balloons that one day, right?”

The microwave beeped twice, the golden light inside flickering off, and you grabbed the steaming leftover container as you spoke. “Yeah, exactly. And the sprinkler, and turning paint into ice cubes and using it like chalk.” Snagging a fork from the silverware drawer, you handed both to the exhausted man and slid back into your seat.

He tossed you a grateful smile and dug into the meal with gusto, loosing a quiet groan at the first bite. “Shit, that’s good,” he sighed, dark eyes fluttering closed in a way that had your heartrate spiking. “Thank you for this, cariño. You’re a lifesaver.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest, and you fought the urge to reach out and squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. “Of course, it’s my pleasure.”

Shoving a few more bites into his mouth, he asked, “Didn’t you freeze her Barbies one day, too?”

“Yeah, I did!” It had been one of Mila’s favorites so far of the heatwave-proof activities you had planned for her, and the memory of it had you chuckling. “I took a couple of her dolls and a bunch of their accessories, put them in a few of those sand buckets you guys have in the garage, filled those with water, and then froze them overnight. It took her hours to dig them all out, but hey. It kept her busy, and she didn’t overheat in the process, so I’ll take it.”

Mr. Morales grinned at that, plucking a napkin from the holder in the center of the table, scrubbing it across his sauce-stained moustache. “Incredible. You know, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the extra effort you’ve been going to with her lately. I know it’s a lot, just looking after her eight hours a day, every day. But with this heat, I know she’s going stir-crazy.” He glanced down at his meal, something almost bashful creeping into his expression. “Pretty sure she gets that from me. Never been real good at sitting still, being stuck indoors.”

“It’s really nothing, Mr. Morales,” you insisted, brushing away the praise with a swipe of your hand.

“No. S’not nothing.” His low voice had gone serious now, and when he glanced back up at you, his eyes were wide, dark, and earnest. “The way you take care of her? The way you always seem to just…know what she needs? That’s everything.” You swore you saw his cheeks darken, swore you saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “And I told you. S’okay if you call me Frankie. That Mr. Morales stuff makes me feel old.”

You drew your lower lip between your teeth, gaze flicking down to your hands as the intensity of the eye contact became too much to handle. “If you’re sure,” you agreed after a moment. “I don’t want to…presume.”

“Not presuming,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “We’re…friends, right, cariño? Friends can call each other by their first names.”

Something in your stomach ached at his words, but he sounded so genuine, so hopeful that you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. “Suppose that’s true… Frankie.”

Fucking Christ.

Maybe that hadn’t been the right call, Frankie thought. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested you call him that, not when your voice sounded so sweet wrapped around his name, not when the hour was so late, the house so silent, like you were the only two people awake in the world. That kind of intimacy, it was going to give him…ideas.

Eager to distract himself from the moment, he plowed onward. “Well, what was the activity today?” he asked, stabbing another selection of pasta and vegetables with his fork.

You appeared to consider the question for a moment before replying, “Actually, it’s more of ‘show’ thing than a ‘tell’ thing, so if you don’t mind holding that thought for a minute, I’ll show you after you’re finished eating.”

Frankie arched an eyebrow at you, intrigued. “Okay, sure. I can wait. Why don’t you tell me what you’re working on then instead? Something for school, I assume?” He gestured at the impressive spread of textbooks, printed articles, and your open laptop taking up most of the surface of the kitchen table.

Immediately, you launched into a detailed explanation of your current project, a research proposal for your graduate program that would serve as the capstone of this session of summer classes. He would freely admit that he only understood bits and pieces of it, his formal education having ended with his high school graduation, but he always enjoyed asking you about your schoolwork. The way you lit up when you talked about the subjects you were passionate about, your animated gestures, your wide, sparkling eyes, all of it was deeply endearing to him. He loved how passionate you were, the way you chased after your goals with fire and focus. It was one of his favorite things about you, and he felt as though that list might be growing longer by the day.

Your monologue about your research proposal gave him the perfect opportunity to finish his meal, so that by the time you had come to the end of your explanation, Frankie was dropping his fork into the now-empty container and leaning back in his chair, pleasantly full and satisfied.

“Oh,” you gasped, seeming to come back to yourself as you took in his relaxed posture, the little smile on his face. “Wow, I really just went on and on there, huh? Sorry about that, I guess I get a little overexcited about my research.”

“Don’t apologize. I like how fired up about it you get, it’s cute.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, a little too honest, a little too real, and Frankie braced himself for the shift in your demeanor that was sure to follow. The awkwardness, the clear discomfort at the too-personal words from your employer. But it never came. Instead, your cheeks darkened under his gaze, a flush spreading down your neck and disappearing into the neckline of your oversized T-shirt.

“You…you think I’m cute?” you stammered, voice a bit breathless in a way that had him shifting in his seat, and he felt a fresh flush of sweat bead up on his forehead, just under the brim of his ballcap, at the sound.

He needed to blow you off, he knew. He needed to make an excuse for the comment, turn it into something mindless, something shallow and impersonal, if he wanted to point this conversation back in the right direction.

“‘Course, cariño,” he said instead. “Who wouldn’t? Might be an old man these days, but I’m not dead yet.”

What was wrong with him?

You blinked back at him for a moment, eyes wide and glossy, lips parted in surprise at the confession, but then you were smiling, something almost…flirtatious in the curve of your lip as you said, “You’re not an old man, Frankie. You’re…experienced.”

Oh, fuck him.

This was a dangerous path the two of you were walking, and in that moment, Frankie wasn’t sure what frightened him more: the eventual destination or the fact that you seemed more than willing to travel it with him.

If he was ever going to make it back to safety, he needed to switch gears. Now.

“How about that activity?” he said quickly. “You gonna show me what you and Mila got up to all day?”

Drawing back from where you had started to lean toward him across the table, you shook your head a bit, as though the question had brought you back to yourself. He watched as the softness and the want in your eyes dissipated, and though he mourned it, he knew it was for the best. The two of you had come too close to crossing that line tonight. You both needed to regain your footing a bit.

“Sure. Actually, it should make for a good dessert.” Getting to your feet once more, you crossed to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door, pulling three medium-sized plastic containers from its depths. The clear plastic fogged up the moment it hit the outside air, obscuring their contents, but Frankie didn’t have to wait for long to see what was inside. A moment later, you spread the three containers out on the kitchen table in front of him and began removing their lids.

Inside the containers was a selection of perfectly chopped, completely frozen fruit. The two of you had clearly used some creatively-shaped cutters to prepare the fruit, as some of the chunks were shaped like little hearts, others looked like tiny stars, and still others looked as though a cutter in the shape of a bunny head had been used. One container held little hunks of bright red watermelon in a full assortment of unique shapes, another boasted chunks of pineapple, also uniquely prepared, and in the last container, a medley of green and red grapes had been halved down the center for easy eating.

“What tastes better on a hot day than fresh fruit?” you asked cheerily. “We cut it up together out on the patio first thing this morning so it would have time to freeze. Mila wanted me to tell you that she did the watermelon because it’s pink and that’s her favorite.”

Frankie glanced up at you, meeting your eyes over the frosty containers. “That sounds about right,” he chuckled.

“I ended up having to hose down the concrete by the time we were done, but it made a great snack when it got miserable out. She was going back and forth between the sprinkler and her bowl on the patio all afternoon.”

He grinned at the image you painted, thinking of his little girl in her pink bathing suit, wild brown ringlets wet and clinging to her scalp, grass sticking to her feet as she danced through the spray of the sprinkler, darting back to grab a hunk of watermelon or a frozen grape, the juice dripping from her little fingers.

“Help yourself,” you encouraged, sitting back down across from him. “I’ll have some with you.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Shouldn’t I…grab us some forks?”

You shrugged, that fucking grin making its way back onto your face. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

And with that, you fluttered your fingertips over the container of frozen grapes, plucked one from the pile, and slipped it into your mouth with a satisfied sigh. You might have started chatting then, might have begun asking him if he had any fun plans for the upcoming weekend and offered a summary of yours in return, but Frankie hardly heard a word of it. He was too preoccupied with your…snacking.

The plushness of your lips, the little peek of your slick, pink tongue each time you opened them, the way you seemed to allow the fruit to linger in your mouth as it defrosted. Heart-shaped watermelon had pale pink juice spilling out of the corner of your mouth, making it halfway down your chin before you delicately swiped it away with the tip of your middle finger. A pineapple star had you smiling softly as you enjoyed the burst of tartness over your tastebuds.

And those grapes.

Those goddamn fucking grapes, with their slick, frosty skin and their subtle, gentle sweetness – those you softly, almost absently traced over the seam of your lips before slipping them inside. Like you were savoring the sensation unconsciously, like the cool wetness of them quenched something in you that you weren’t even aware required attention. They made your mouth glisten in the low light, the shine of it so tempting he was certain that he hadn’t looked away from it in several minutes now.

In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to get ahold of himself. There was no way you hadn’t noticed; he had to be making you uncomfortable by now. But he just…couldn’t. God, you looked good enough to eat, with your messy hair and your sun-pinked cheeks and your bright eyes and your soft, bare legs.

A droplet of sweat traveled down the side of his face, streaking down his temple, his jaw, his neck.

Your mouth looked cool, and it looked sweet.

“…Frankie?”

Frankie startled at the sound of his name on your tongue, and his gaze snapped back up to your eyes instantly, a wicked flush blazing up the back of his neck and over his skull in mortification. Shit, you had noticed him staring, this was such a major fuck-up –

“Hm? What’s that, cariño?” His voice came out weak and raspy, like his throat had gone dry, and he cleared it loudly.

“I was saying, you don’t want any of the fruit?” You looked him over with wide, innocent eyes, and for the first time, Frankie realized that he hadn’t taken a single bite.

“Uh. A-Actually, I think I might be too full at the moment,” he stammered, bringing a hand up to pat himself across the belly in excuse.

The little confused quirk of your head told him immediately that you didn’t believe him. Scooting your chair across the hardwood floor, you came to sit directly next to him and gently scolded, “Frankie, you’ve been out working in this heat all night. You need to rehydrate. Here, you have room for a few pieces. Open up, okay?”

One of those slick, dewy grape halves appeared between your thumb and forefinger then, and the next thing he knew, you were holding it out to him. Not to take with his own hand, but to eat. It was a mere hairsbreadth away from his mouth.

Unable to formulate a suitable protest, his brain suddenly feeling rather detached from his body, all Frankie could do was drop his jaw and allow you to slip the fruit inside.

The pads of your fingers touched the soft, sensitive skin of his lower lip, and that was when he was certain that not only had his brain seemingly walked away on its own, it had turned fully off. That was the only explanation he could come up with for why the moment he registered the delicate touch, he immediately seized your wrist in one of his fists, dragging your fingers fully into his mouth.

A loud, feminine gasp met his ears as he swiped his tongue between your fingertips, stealing the frozen fruit from your grasp, pressing it firmly against the roof of his mouth to squash it, and quickly swallowing it down. His tongue returned to your skin, lapping at the frost and the condensation and the delicate, sweet juices coating your fingertips, and he watched as your eyes glazed over at the sensation. Your wrist went limp in his grasp, your fingers pliant, never once attempting to withdraw, and the ball of heat that had been brewing in his gut all night suddenly reached a fever pitch as he realized that you liked this.

Cock twitching in his jeans, he drew your fingers from his mouth. Both his eyes and yours followed the fine trail of saliva that stretched from his lip to the tip of your index finger, and he heard your swallow heavily at the sight.

“Frankie,” you whispered weakly.

And then his restraint abandoned him just as his mind had, and before he could think better of it, his hands were cupping your face and dragging you bodily to meet him in a hard, messy kiss.

Francisco Morales kissed like he did everything else – with intention, with competence, and with a raw, simmering fire that lingered just below the surface just waiting to be unveiled. To be stoked. To be nurtured.

The presence of that fire had your squirming in your seat, had your neck bending back on your shoulders in submission to the intensity of his assault. His thumbs, long and thick, pressed into your jaw from either side, wrenching you open, and his tongue slipped inside, immediately seeking your own with a desperation that drew a soft, muffled moan from your throat. Your own hands flew to the sweat-damp collar of his polo, and you dug your fingers into the fabric, holding him, keeping him just as fiercely as he kept you. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, pulsed between your thighs, growing sensitive and tender there when wetness bloomed.

With a low, rasping groan, Frankie broke the kiss and began tracing his prominent nose across your cheek, along the edge of your jaw, down your bare neck.

“You taste so fucking sweet, querida. Cold and…delicious and…perfect.”

Punctuating his words with hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, his voice rough and raw and sounding like the confession had been dragged from his chest against his will, it was enough to have sweat breaking out on the back of your neck, behind your knees, at the base of your spine.

“Frankie,” you breathed, threading your grip into his hair, curling his dark brown locks around your fingers, scraping along his scalp. “Please – ”

His hands dropped from your jaw then, sweeping around the width of your hips and hauling you into his lap. Instinctually, your thighs spread to bracket his waist, the weight of you coming to rest on his spread-legged lap, and you couldn’t help but moan at the thick, hard press of him against the softness of your cunt.

“This okay, baby?” he murmured against your skin, nuzzling against the neckline of your shirt, broad palms dragging down over your ass to hold you down, press you to him.

You whimpered and felt your body going soft, warm, and pliant beneath his touch. “Mm hm!” Hips hitching, grinding against him of their own accord, you pulled his face back up to meet yours, smothering your own gasps and whines in his mouth.

It didn’t last long, however. After a few quick licks against your tongue, Frankie pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours and knocking his Standard Oil cap to the floor.

“Uh uh, need to hear the words, cariño. Won’t do anything you don’t want me doing.” Wrapping his fingers around your messy bun, he angled your face down so that your heavy-lidded eyes met his. “I’ll ask you again. You want me touching you? You want me to make you feel good?”

Your eyes drifted shut, your mind gone warm and hazy. God, the things this man did to you. Did he know how long you had wanted this? How hard you had fought against it? He couldn’t know. If he did, he would never ask such a question.

“Yes, please, Frankie,” you gasped, nodding against his hold, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

“Yes, please, what, bebita?” You could hear a smirk in his voice now, and the sound had you flushing down to the tips of your toes, a fresh rush of wetness soaking your panties as you squirmed against him.

Tucking your face against his sweaty neck, you whispered, “Please…please make me feel good.”

Frankie was on his feet in an instant, boosting you into his arms in a move that had your stomach dropping down through your abdomen both in shock and in arousal. He backed you into the table, your hips bumping into the wooden edge, and the snap of pain had a brief flash of clarity flying through your lust-filled brain fog.

“Frankie, my books – ”

The older man swore under his breath – “fuck, right” – before changing course, bringing you instead over to the arm of the peninsula that extended out into the room from the edge of the kitchen. Kicking one of the two barstools out of the way, he dropped you unceremoniously onto the countertop before dragging you down for another kiss.

He ate at your mouth like a man starved, sucking on your lips, dragging his teeth across your skin, licking against the roof of your mouth. It was wet, sloppy, and so hot, his desperation contagious, encouraging you to match him caress for caress. No one had ever kissed you like this, like the kissing was the main event rather than a means to an end. Frankie kissed like that was the entire point, and it had you melting against the counter. You were dripping through your shorts now, you were sure of it.

“Can taste all that fruit on your tongue. Sweetest thing I ever tasted,” he growled, keeping his voice low. “But I can think of at least one other thing that might be even sweeter.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Your boss was going to eat you out on his kitchen counter.

“Lean back, bebita.” The words were spoken against your cheeks, brushed into your skin by the suddenly tender touch of his lips, the rasp of his whiskers, the press of his chin. “Let me take care of you.”

You did as he asked, releasing your hold on his broad shoulders and sinking back onto your elbows. The granite was cool to the touch, sending goosebumps along your arms and down your spine, but the sensation was a welcome one after the oppressive heat of the day, the heat of his body on yours.

His palms snaked beneath the hem of your T-shirt, bunching it up onto your belly to reveal the waistband of your shorts. Hooking his thumbs into the elastic without preamble, he murmured, “Lift your hips a bit for me, baby.” Again, you obeyed without question, and with a few short tugs, Frankie pulled both your shorts and your slick-stained panties down your legs to drop to the hardwood floor.

You felt a fierce blush flare in your cheeks, spreading down your neck and chest with a speed that had you gasping for air. The ceiling fan over the kitchen table – you could feel its breeze from here, the cool rush of air instantly pulling a shiver from you as it hit your wet, swollen pussy. You kept yourself bare in the summer, finding it easier and less stressful whenever you wanted to wear a swimsuit, and laid out like this on display, thighs spread around Frankie’s broad body, the cold fan hitting your most vulnerable skin, you couldn’t help but feel a bit…overexposed. The reality of your situation hit you like a freight train, and you found yourself fighting the urge to snap your legs closed against the eyes of your boss.

It was as though Frankie could read your mind. Not a moment after the thought occurred to you, you felt his big hands clamp onto your thighs and pull them apart even wider.

“Don’t you dare try to hide from me. She’s so fucking beautiful,” he tutted, and you risked a glance at his face only to find him staring intently down at your cunt. “You been walking around my house with a naked pussy like this all summer, baby? Dirty girl.” His dark brown eyes had gone almost black with lust, his irises only a faint ring around his wide pupils, and in a gesture that seemed entirely unconscious, he darted the tip of his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. He looked utterly fascinated. Entranced. Hungry. The sight had your walls clenching around nothing, and you watched him watch that happen with an eagerness that had you moaning aloud.

When he spoke again, he was a man in thrall. “‘M gonna eat this pretty pussy now, querida. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? Don’t wanna wake Mila.”

You nodded, bringing one of your hands up to cover your mouth preemptively. This man was going to have you screaming, you just knew it. Flicking his gaze up to yours for just a moment, he grinned wickedly at the sight.

“That’s a good girl, baby,” he whispered, and then his face was in your cunt, and you felt your every coherent thought fly out the window.

If Frankie had thought that your mouth tasted sweet, your tongue like candy, then your pussy was fruit on the vine, straight from the vineyard, drenched in sunshine. It was hot, deep, and rich, earthy and tangy and drugging, like a late summer afternoon, like a hazy day in August. This had always been one of his favorite things to do with women, one of his favorite ways to please them, and never – not once – had it ever been like this. From the moment his tongue touched your delicate, dripping folds, he knew – there would be no going back from this. Not for him. He couldn’t experience something like this and not crave it every day for the rest of his life.

He started with soft, light strokes with tip of his tongue, tracing just the very edges of your lips from down near your entrance all the way to the top of your mound. Then again, slowly pressing deeper but never with any more than the faintest pressure. Even so, you responded instantly, a panting, high-pitched whine sounding behind the press of your palm over your mouth. Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to increase the pressure, to draw him further into you, but he had one of his arms bracketing the span of your hips before you could make much progress.

Driving you firmly into the countertop, he held your knees open with the breadth of his shoulders and boldly dragged the flat of his tongue through your folds. “Keep quiet, now, bebita. I’m gonna take care of you.”

With that, Frankie felt himself begin to disappear, to melt into you from his position between your legs. Your soft thighs bracketing his shoulders, your heels digging into his back, your pussy, so soft, so hot, so sweet as you dissolved beneath his tongue. You were drooling for him, your clenching, grasping hole fluttering against his tongue every time he passed over it, your clit swollen and throbbing under the suction of his lips. You had collapsed back against the countertop now, one hand still pressed firmly over your mouth, the other burying itself in his hair, anchoring him to your body with a strength he found both surprising and wildly attractive. And with every lick, every suck, every vibration of a moan that spilled from his mouth into your flesh, he could feel you drawing higher, tighter, deeper.

He knew what you needed. He knew what would get you there.

Tucking his free hand beneath his chin, Frankie slipped one, then two thick fingers into the tight, velvety clutch of your cunt.

You shot up off the counter, your torso curling around his head, your hand in his hair fisting the strands roughly in your overwhelm. Sharp bolts of pain erupted across his scalp, but it was a welcome sensation, somehow grounding in its intensity. He smirked against your folds, sealing his lips around your puffy clit and rolling the little nub around with his tongue. At the same time, he pressed gently, insistently against the front wall of your cunt, applying steady friction and pressure with both fingertips.

A faint whimper slipped from you at that, muffled by your palm but not silent, and Frankie felt himself preen. God, he loved this. It wouldn’t be long now.

“You gonna come for me? Gonna let me feel her gush around my fingers? On my tongue? Hm?”

The hand on your mouth fell away, joining the one in his hair as you began to tremble beneath him. “Frankie,” you whined. “‘M gonna – you’re gonna make me – ”

“I know, baby, I know.” He kept his fingers right where they were, shallow thrusts, firm pressure right where you needed it most. “Just let it happen. I’ve got you.” Ducking his head back down to your clit, he resumed the combination of gentle suction and firm, long strokes that had driven you wild.

And just like clockwork, your thighs began to shake against his shoulders. Your abdomen clenched beneath his forearm. Your slick, soft walls clamped down around his fingers. A weak, breathless sound – “ah” – burst from your throat, and then you were coming. A rush of your wetness dripped down his fingers, coating his hand, pooling in the cup of his palm as you pulsed and fluttered around him, and Frankie could feel your poor, abused little clit twitching against his tongue. He worked you through it, slowing down a bit but not stopping, prolonging the torment just a bit longer. Only when your two hands buried in his hair started to shove against him, pushing him away, did he relent, and even then, it took him an extra few seconds to be willing to slip his fingers from your body.

Looking up into your face, Frankie felt a wash of joy and contentment pass over him. You were positively glowing – your skin flushed and ever-so-slightly sweaty, your hair wild and mussed, your T-shirt bunched up above your belly button, so much of your perfect softness on display. And you were grinning like a fool, your eyes showing your fatigue but your smile brighter than he had ever seen. You looked at him with a gentleness, an affection that had his heart clenching in his chest, and he was certain that his expression was much the same.

It had been years since he had felt this way about anyone, and even then, he wasn’t certain it could compare.

When you sat up and slipped from the counter, it was a slow and lazy affair, assisted by his firm grip and his steady arms to help keep you upright. The moment your feet hit the floor, you reached for his belt with a question in your eyes, to which Frankie responded, “Not tonight, querida. Tonight was about you.” You seemed somewhat disappointed by that response, but you didn’t push it. Instead, you simply pulled his head down for a kiss, which he gladly obliged. You sighed into his mouth at the taste of yourself on his tongue, and it took every ounce of strength he had in him not to take back what he had just said, to drag your hands back down to his belt buckle and allow you to proceed as you wished.

But no.

It was late. You needed to get home and get to sleep, and he needed to wash off the heat of the day before passing out in his own bed. There would be a little girl busting down his door at 7:00 AM tomorrow whether he was ready for her or not, and you would be back in this very kitchen by 8:00 eager to share a cup of coffee with too-sweet creamer before he left for work.

So, like the gentleman that he wasn’t certain that he was, Frankie helped you slip back into your little shorts, pack your overflowing bookbag, and carry your things out to your car.

You turned to him one last time before you slipped into the driver’s seat, a soft if uncertain smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Mr. Morales – Frankie, I…” You drew your lower lip between your teeth. “Thank you. For tonight.”

His heart melted at your words, the quiet, hesitating way you said them. It was a vulnerability he wasn’t accustomed to from you, you who always seemed to have it all together, you who matched his advances beat for beat, never wavering. “Don’t need to thank me, baby. I wanted to. You take such good care of me, of Mila. You deserved it.” Releasing a deep, trembling breath, he added, “And…I’d like to do it again sometime. If you’ll let me.”

“That depends,” you replied.

“Yeah? On what?”

Your soft, sweet smile morphed into something sharper then, something with more intent. “On if you’ll let me return the favor. It’s like you said…I want to.”

Frankie couldn’t have reigned in the grin that split his face then if he tried. Dropping a kiss to your forehead, he said, “‘Course, cariño. I’m not done with your sweetness just yet.”

[runninriot]

Backstage Romance (I Want It Bad)

written for @steddiesongfics

song: Backstage Romance (Moulin Rouge! The Musical) | rated: E | wc: 7.018 | tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson, Manager Steve Harrington, Famous Corroded Coffin, secret hookups, dom/sub undertones, angst, smut, ambiguous/open ending | complete fic on ao3

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Eddie is buzzing, high on adrenaline like always when they’re playing a show. He’s still not used to this, it’s still something he can’t quite wrap his head around – to watch people dance and sing along to their songs, to hear their roaring applause and deafening whistles, to know they’re here for them.

It’s electrifying.

A fucking dream.

They’re still considered newcomers but Corroded Coffin are finally climbing their way out of the gutter; they’re making it, step by step, and one day not too far in the future, they’ll be on top.

It’s all Eddie ever wanted, all he and his best friends have always fantasized about back when they were still a bunch of loser kids dreaming of becoming rockstars while terrorising Gareth’s poor parents (and the whole neighbourhood, really) with the horrible noise coming from their garage.

The dream is reality now, success not only a possibility but a fact. It would be poison for Eddie's already too big ego but thankfully, there's always someone bringing him back down to earth when he gets carried away.

They’ve got a label now, signed record deal and all and-

   “Great show, guys! The people seemed to really love the new song.”

Yeah, and that. They’ve got a manager now, too.

Steve Harrington.

The guy whose appearance makes him stick out like a sore thumb from the sea of blacks and greys and dark reds around him. The guy who doesn’t look the part but actually likes what they do. The guy who doesn’t give two fucks about what others think of him because he’s not here to make friends, he’s here to do his job. And he’s pretty good at that.

Good at a lot of things.

At first, Eddie hated the idea of having a fucking babysitter on tour with them. Someone to watch their every move, someone to keep them out of trouble (where’s the fun in that?), to make sure they don’t fuck up their reputation. Someone to handle all their business affairs for them, as if they couldn’t take care of it themselves.

Now, Eddie’s actually glad they have someone to deal with everything – from interview requests and setting up their tour schedule to negotiating their contracts and booking their gigs. Steve handles it all, allowing the band to enjoy the fruits of their labour without having to deal with the annoying parts of being in the music business.

And that should be all there is to it. Just a business relation based on what’s in the band’s best interest.

But it’s not.

Not behind the curtains, backstage, when no one is looking. Where, hidden in dark corners, Steve and Eddie share a secret.

A secret that could ruin it all.

Because it’s unprofessional, could get them both in trouble. Could get Steve fired, possibly. Maybe even put Eddie’s – if not the whole band’s – career on the line if the public ever found out about it.

But that just makes it even more thrilling.

Eddie has always been drawn to that, the forbidden, things that could cause irreparable damage. And throughout his life, he’s come to ask himself more than once if this is really worth it. If it’s worth risking it all just for giving in to his reckless impulses.

But the answer has always been the same. Now even more so than ever.

He knows it’s wrong, dangerous, a game he shouldn’t be playing because playing with fire will get him burned.

The problem is that he’s a sucker for the pain.

And being ruined by Steve Harrington is worth everything.

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continue reading here

[bakedpecans]

Love The Sims 3 Lepacy Challenge but you play The Sims 4? Look no further for I have created a lepacy challenge for The Sims 4 right here!

Here is the Google Document for the rules or read below!

As someone who loves the Sims 3 lepacy challenge, I thought I would create one for The Sims 4. I’m aware there is one already made by annaliesembsims on Tumblr but it didn’t fit the criteria I was looking for in the challenge. Their challenge looks wonderful, I just play a little differently. Thanks to both the sims 3 lepacy creator and annaliesembsims! If you see any similarities below, all credit goes to them. Let’s get into the basics!

This is an expansion pack only lepacy challenge. You don’t need to add any game packs, stuff packs, or kits unless you want to. ***Personally, whenever I start a new gen I will also be downloading the game packs and stuff packs that came out that same year.

Unless specified, your sim may have any traits or aspirations you wish.

Feel free to tag me so I can see your wonderful posts!

Generation 1 (Base Game)

You need a fresh start. What’s better than packing everything you own and moving to a completely new town? You move to this new town lost and confused about your future. Somehow, you get a job even though you have no degree or credentials! While your job is tolerable, you’re mainly missing having friends and hobbies and a lover. Now’s the time to do all of those things with your new way of life!

Must live in one of the three base game worlds (Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, or Newcrest)

Must have a base game job

Must have at least 3 friends

Max two skills

Must complete a base game aspiration

Must get married to a townie

Have at least 2 kids

***Packs that came out the same year as base game: None

Generation 2 (Get to Work)

You always admired your parents but saw how they both dreaded going to work every day. You want to work in a field you’re passionate about. As a kid you always dreamed of being the big boss, whether that be as a doctor, scientist, detective, or business owner. Time to get to workin’!

Move to one of the other worlds from Base Game (or Get to Work)

Must become a doctor, scientist, detective, or own your own business

If you chose a career, you must reach level 10

If you chose owning a business, you must earn at least 25,000 simoleons before the end of the generation

Max skills needed for job

Marry a coworker (or customer) and eventually get divorced

Have only 1 child

Make sure your child maxes all skills from infant-child and reaches all of their aspiration goals before becoming a young adult

***Packs that came out the same year as get to work: Outdoor Retreat, Luxury Party Stuff, Perfect Patio Stuff, Day Spa, Cool Kitchen Stuff, Spooky Stuff

Generation 3 (Get Together)

Your parents always pushed you to do your best in school to the point of having the Perfectionist or the Erratic trait. Once you became a young adult you decided you wanted to relax and have fun! The rumors of Windenburg’s parties have lured you to the scenic town. You still talk to your parents but are trying to distance yourself as they pressure you to settle down and get a consistent job.

Must have the perfectionist or erratic trait

Live in Windenburg

Must have one of the traits from Get Together (dance machine or insider)

Must have the Leader of the Pack aspiration and complete it

Must max out dancing and DJing skills

Must have at least one kid (if you want multiple then they can not share the same father/mother)

Never get married

***Packs that came out the same year as get together: Get Together came out the same year as Get to Work and the other packs

Generation 4 (City Living)

Your parent showed you how to live life in an exhilarating way! While you enjoyed staying up late and eating junk food and basically having no rules your entire life, you also craved the stability that never came. Moving to San Myshuno always intrigued you but you knew you would never be able to afford it on your own. But, wait! Your best friend wants to leave Windenburg too! Isn’t that just dandy?

Live in San Myshuno with at least one roommate

Must have the Unflirty or Vegetarian trait

Must have the City Native aspiration and completed

Must get married to roommate 

Go to every festival

Become a critic, politician, or social media influencer, or singing “career” and max the job

If you chose the “singing” career just make sure you can make livable wages

Try every single food from the stalls

Have as many kids as you would like

Max singing skill

***Packs that came out the same year as city living: Movie Hangout, Romantic Garden, Dineout, Kids Room, Backyard, Vintage Glamour

Generation 5 (Cats & Dogs)

Growing up you had to deal with the hustle and bustle of city life. Everything was cramped, busy, and packed. There wasn’t even enough room for a pet. You saw an ad on Simtube about Brindleton Bay one day and ever since then, you have dreamed of living there. The fresh air, the pets, all of it sounds so enticing!

Live in Brindleton Bay

Own a cat and dog

Have a litter of kittens or puppies

Become a vet and max the skill

Max the pet training skill

Have the cat lover or dog lover trait

Have the Friend of the Animals aspiration and complete it

Get married and have three kids

Optional: Have a simstagram for your pet

***Packs that came out the same year as cats and dogs: Vampire, bowling, parenthood, fitness, toddlers

Generation 6 (Seasons)

Living in Brindleton Bay all of your life was great, except for the rain (listen…i know this isn’t technically right because you aren’t supposed to have seasons until your sims are young adults but work with me lol). While Brindleton Bay had all four seasons, you still felt it lacked something because of all of the rain. Time to move!

Live in any world except Brindleton Bay

Experience a holiday (whatever holiday you want) in each season

Rely only on beekeeping and flower arrangement for an income (feel free to have a florist shop)

Max flower arranging and skating skills

Have at least one aspiration reward trait from seasons

Declare favorite season/weather

Get married to someone who has the opposition declaration 

Have as many kids as you want but each child must max the scouting activity

***Packs that came out the same year as seasons: Laundry, jungle adventure, my first pet

Generation 7 (Get Famous)

Small town life never intrigued you. You thought everyone was boring, the town you grew up in was boring, and nothing interested you. Except being famous. You would stay up late watching Simtube and meticulously rating movies on Letter Box and obsessing over your favorite celebrities. Now that you’re a young adult you’re free to do whatever you want! Time to move to Del Sol Valley!

Live in Del Sol Valley

Have the self-absorbed trait

Have either the World Famous Celebrity aspiration or the Master Actor and complete it

Become an actor or influencer 

Max either the acting skill or media production skill

Have a pristine or atrocious reputation

Reach max celebrity level

Marry another celebrity

Have as many kids as you want but each kid has to be into the drama club

***Packs that came out the same year as get famous: get famous came out the same year as seasons

Generation 8 (Island Living)

Growing up with famous parents and being forced to go to red carpets, join the drama club, and having to deal with paparazzi has run you down and you just want to live life alone in peace. Sulani seems like the perfect place for rest and relaxation.

Live in Sulani

Attend all Sulani festivals (Don’t know when they happen? Try this mod!)

Have at least 5 friends

Marry a townie

Have 4 kids (make sure at least one child maxs all skills from infant-child and completes all of their aspirations from child-teen and gets A’s throughout entire schooling career)

Have the child of the island or the child of the ocean trait

Have the beach life aspiration and complete it

Become a conservationist, diver, fisherman, or lifeguard and make the career

Max athletic skill

***Packs that came out the same year as island living: strangerville, moschino, realm of magic

Generation 9 (Discover University)

Basking in the sun throughout your childhood has been wonderful but you have always craved knowledge. You always had A’s and maxed your skills to fulfill your need for knowledge but it was never enough. Your restlessness has made you antsy. Now that you’re a young adult, you can meet that need in University!

Get accepted into Britechester or Foxbury institute and live in the world

Have the academic aspiration and complete it

Max the research and debate skill or the robotics skill

Join an afterschool activity or an organization (secret society counts for an organization)

Achieve all A’s

Throw one party per semester

Once graduated, live anywhere you wish

End up having a job as an educator, law, or engineer

Have a college sweetheart and get married

Have as many kids as you want

Once you have graduated and joined a career, cheat on your spouse and get divorced

Marry sim you cheated with

Optional: Have a servo

***Packs that came out the same year as discover university: discover university came out the same year as island living

Generation 10 (Eco Lifestyle)

Your parents' love of knowledge has worn off on you, but for the worse. You are riddled with the knowledge of capitalism and its destruction of the planet. Evergreen Harbor has been on the news, specifically because of the pollution. Finally, you have had enough of just sitting around. You want to make a change! 

Live in Evergreen Harbor

Make sure every neighborhood in Evergreen Harbor has a green eco footprint

Have the freegan, green fiend, maker, or recycle disciple trait

Have the eco innovator or master maker aspiration and complete it

Max the civil designer job

Max the gardening, fabrication, or juice making skill

Marry a townie 

Have as many kids as you want

***Packs that came out the same year as eco lifestyle: tiny living, nifty knitting, journey to batuu

Generation 11 (Snowy Escape)

Since your parent was obsessed with nature and eco footprints, you spent a lot of time outside. This aided in your need for excitement and thrill. You were always at the playground and hanging out at the quarry. Now, you want to take your need for thrill to the next level in Mt. Komorebi!

Live in Mt. Komorebi

Visit all festivals

Have the adventurous or proper trait

Max the rock climbing, skiing, or snowboarding skill

Complete the extreme sports enthusiast or mt. komorebi sightseer aspiration

Have the salaryperson job (you don’t have to max this as it’s not your goal)

Visit all neighborhoods and complete some activities (meeting Yamachan in Wakaba, nature walk in Senbamachi, snowy activities in Yukimatsu, etc)

Marry a sim that has the same thrill for excitement and is mastering another skill you did not choose

Have 2 kids

***Packs that came out the same year as snowy escape: snowy escape came out the same year as eco lifestyle

Generation 12 (Cottage Living)

Mt. Komorebi is where your heart lies but you wish you lived more in the country. You have always loved animals but you can’t really own a cow when you live in the middle of town! You made a penpal in Henford-on-Bagley and they have convinced you to move there.

Live in Henford-on-Bagley

Have the animal enthusiast or lactose intolerant trait

Have the country caretaker aspiration and complete it

Max the cross stitch skill or the cooking skills (if you choose to go into canning things)

Have a barn, coop, and farm on your lot

Have the simple living or wild foxes lot challenge

Win a town fair

Complete at least 3 errands

Marry your “pen pal” (a townie)

Have five kids

***Packs that came out the same year as cottage living: paranormal, throwback fit, country kitchen, bust the dust, courtyard oasis, dram home decorator, industrial loft, fashion st, incheon arrivals, blooming rooms, modern menswear

Generation 13 (High School Years)

Your parents decided that the education you were receiving out in the country wasn’t good enough! They moved you all to Copperdale so you could have the true high school experience. Yay, I guess?

Live in Copperdale

Get all A’s

Join an afterschool activity or have a part-time job and max it

If you choose a part-time job you must create a club from get together so you can have friends!

Sneak out successfully

Throw a party while parents are out or on another lot

Have the overachiever, party animal, or socially awkward trait

Complete the drama llama, goal orientated, live fast, or admired icon aspiration

Get prom royalty or jester

Use social bunny often to update your status

Marry your highschool sweetheart (once you’re a young adult)

***Packs that came out the same year as high school years: carnaval streetwear, my wedding stories, decor to the max, moonlight chic, little campers, werewolves, first fits, desert luxe, everyday clutter, pastel pop

Generation 14 (Growing Together)

You watched your parents as you grew up and always idolized their love. While everyone else was getting divorced, your parents stayed through thick and thin. You hope one day you can find that kind of love too.

Have a freelancer job

Get married

Have 3 kids

Have a dog or cat

Each kid must reach all of the milestones and have their own aspirations (and complete them) and traits (no repetition)

Must have a baby shower, family reunion, and sleepover at some point

Must visit recreation center often

Must have midlife crisis and do it (except the divorce one)

Optional: Max parenting skill (parenthood required)

***Packs that came out the same year as growing together: simtimates, bathroom clutter, greenhouse haven, basement treasures, grunge revival, book nook

Generation 15 (Horse Ranch)

Your parents let you have your own personalities and lives as you grew and you turned out to be a horse girl/boy! Congrats! San Sequoia lacked horses and equestrian activities. But, just a little bit east, is the town of Chestnut Ridge! Known for their horses, square dancing, and wine making, this town sounds just down right perfect for you.

Live in Chestnut Ridge

Have the horse lover or rancher trait

Have the championship rider or expert nectar maker aspiration and complete it

Master the riding and nectar making traits

Have at least 2 horses who makes their skills

Own sheep or goats

Get married

Have as many kids as you want

Have your spouse die (riperoni)

***Packs that came out the same year as horse ranch: modern luxe, poolside splash, home chef hustle

Generation 16 (For Rent)

Living in a small town where one of your parents was more concerned with their horses than you and the other one being dead has left you feeling a little lost. You crave the sense of a close knit family and friendship. You went on a trip in high school to Tomarang and loved every moment of it. Ever since you got back from that trip, you have thought about Tomarang. Now that you’re a young adult and can make your own choices you have decided to leave your parent to Chestnut Ridge in search of your own belonging in Tomarang.

Live in Tomarang

Have the nosy, generous, or child of the village trait (once you are an elder you need the wise trait)

Either become a property owner or have the part time handyperson job

If you are a property owner you need to decide if you want pristine living conditions where you have the highest ratings or the worst landlord known to man and achieve that goal

If you go into the part-time job you need to make sure you have at least 5 friends

Marry a townie and max your friendship with all of their family members

Have a pool party and potluck at some point

You must live with your spouse’s family

Have at least two kids

You need to have the seeker of secrets, five-star property owner, fount of Tomarani knowledge, or discerning dweller aspiration and complete it

***Packs that were released the same year as for rent: just the ones listed in horse ranch

Generation 17 (Lovestruck)

While your parents and grandparents were in love and devoted to each other, you aren’t sure of what you want. You aren’t sure of your sexuality or who you are, really, and your family is pressuring you to settle down and start a family. Because of the pressure you feel you choose to move to Ciudad Enamorada. You’ve heard all about its passion and culture and you can’t wait to explore.

Live in Ciudad Enamorada

Have the love bug or romantically reserved trait

Choose one of the romantic aspirations (lovestruck related or not) and complete it

Decide on your sexuality and attraction and jealousy

Go on at least five dates from Cupid’s Corner (one of them must be a blind date and one must be a get to know you date)

Have sexy dance time with a romantic partner

Complete one of the challenges (the dating show, have a real sugar relationship when asked if you want one, or the third option which i swear exists but for the life of me i cannot remember what it is)

Have the romance consultant job (you don’t have to max it but it must be your career)

Max the romance skill

Woohoo in the closet, rug, love hotel, and the heart shaped bed

***Packs that were released the same time as lovestruck: castle estate, goth galore, crystal creations, urban homage, party essentials, riviera retreat, and cozy bistro