#anyway that’s how i got prissy

[thechildisgone]

ugh i wrote this whole post and it deleted but i realized my ten year anniversary of getting prissy passed on the 14th and i forgot!!! 😭😭😅 i usually make a huge deal of it bc idk her birthday

when i first saw her vs just now protesting the weather

[rafesweetie]

‎♡‧₊˚ boat days with rafe are always prissy!readers favourite days.

you loved them because it felt like the one moment rafe’s mind wasn’t elsewhere. usually he was a stressed, impatient man, but when he’d find the time to take the yacht out far and just park it there and soak in the sun with you, he was always happy.

rafe was doing his morning workout while you soaked in the sun that reflected from the water, a shirley temple in hand that rafe made you at the bar. peacefully content, your stomach rested on the longue chair as your back tanned, glowing from the tanning oil that rafe had applied for you while complaining about how oily it felt and how he was gonna have to wash his hands.

with a sigh when you realize your drink is empty, you call rafe’s name to get you another one — not in a bratty way, you just knew rafe was always glad to keep you content, so he would make you another, even if he did mutter ‘i’m not your fuckin’ servant’ every time.

he comes over, pausing his workout. “yeah, baby?”

“can i have another drink?” you ask, turning over to lie on your back so you can face him.

“yeah, i got you,” he takes the empty glass and makes you another shirley temple, then brings it back to you. “need anything else?”

“umm..” you try to think, biting on your inner cheek. “dunno if i really want tan lines, can you help me untie my bikini top?”

“this isn’t france, baby, can’t sit outside with your tits out,”

“do you see anyone around? we’re in the middle of the ocean,” you ask. “didn’t know you were such a prude, just wanna tan my chest,”

“m’not a prude. fine, sit up. c’mon,” he relents, and you sit up.

his big hands fidget with the little bow on your triangle bikini, untying both knots. “there you go,” he pats your shoulder. “gotta go back to working out, you good here for like, fifteen minutes? not bored?”

“i’m fine. thank you rafe,” you smile up at him, pecking his lips while he’s still crouched down.

he nods, giving you one last look with his pretty baby blues before turning to go to the back of the boat to finish his workout.

you spend a bit of time on your phone while you’re still sat up, taking photos of the water, and topless selfies to absolutely send to rafe next time he’s at the office, and take sips of your shirley temple. then you apply some tanning oil on your front and tan that side for a little while, putting in an earbud to listen to some lana del rey.

after a while, you’re overheatting, even with your drink. but thankfully, rafe is feeling the exact same way. he finishes his workout and comes back to you all sweaty.

“hey,” he breathes out, taking the earbud out of your ear and stealing a sip of your drink so he can get his breath back.

“rafe!” you whine, swiping your drink back.

“usually when people say hey, you say hi back,” he says sarcastically, teasing you. “anyway, c’mon, we’re going swimming, i’m hot as fuck and you’re coming with me,”

you nod and he helps you up. he takes you to the edge of the boat. “we’re gonna jump, you good with that?”

“nervous,” you admit, staring off the yacht and into the blue water.

“you’ll be all good. i’ll hold your hand,” he assures, grabbing your manicured hand. “on three,”

he counts down, squeezing your hand each time. when he gets to three, he jumps and pulls you with him.

the water feels cold and refreshing against your warm body. you can’t help but think that your blowout is ruined from the water, but rafe will pay for another one if it upsets you. giggling, you resurface, looping your arms around rafe’s neck, topless chest pressed against his. “that was fun!”

“yeah?” he can’t help the little smile that appears at your happiness. “c’mon, let’s go again,”

with an eager nod, he helps you onto the ladder at the back of the boat, and you grab his hand when he walks you to the edge again. he counts down again, and you jump. it continues like that for 7 minutes until you get chilly.

rafe gets you a towel embroidered with his name (of course), and leaves you to warm up in the sun.

at the end of the day, you’ve changed into a spare sundress kept below deck, because rafe is cooking dinner in the mini kitchen on the yacht. you watch him cook, drying your hair off with a towel, then recurling your eyelashes and putting your lipgloss back on that wiped away.

you sit down back outside, both of you eating your dinner as the sky turns into this gorgeous swirl of pink, orange, and yellow while the sun dips down.

with the golden hour highlighting every feature on your boyfriends face, the feeling of your wet hair soaking the back of the dress, and putting the most delicious food in your mouth, you’re absolutely sure you’ll never get sick of this.

“i think the water is gonna tarnish my necklace,” you tell rafe gently as you help him wash the plates after. your hand subconsciously fiddles with said necklace, the one that has his initial on it. rafe’s very proud of that necklace.

“well we can’t have that, yeah?” rafe smiles, putting his hands on your waist. “we’ll buy you a new one tomorrow, hm? real gold this time, no cheaping out,”

you smile and nod, and he kisses you in a way that’s gonna screw you up forever. being with him is like paradise.

[lylahammar]

Hi ✋ I have a little Marcille theory/headcanon (which honestly could possibly be canon) to share

I often see people characterizing her as the person who wears inappropriate clothes to a hike, like the girl who doesn’t know how to handle herself outdoors. And I always thought, why is that?? She’s shown to have been kinda an outdoorsy kid

I still think that characterization that people give her is incorrect BUT only partially. I was thinkin about it more and I think that Marcille is a reformed agoraphobe. She grew up playing outside all the time, until her father died and her mother said the worst thing possible to her daughter dealing with that trauma lmfao

Marcille became terrified of death, not just for herself but for others. I’ve seen people joke about how her early life timeline doesn’t have much on it, and I know part of that was because her backstory hadn’t been revealed yet when the adventurer’s bible was written so it was avoiding spoilers, but also. Maybe she actually didn’t do much before going to magic school?

When she met Falin, she was confronted with a kid who was just as, if not probably more outdoorsy than she was as a kid

And she actually got panicked by it! This interaction reads at first like Marcille being a prissy nerd who doesn’t go outside ever, which is why I think people often mischaracterize her that way, but it reads a lot different when you realize she actually used to be outdoorsy herself and is just a (probably recently) traumatized girl with a horrible fear of anyone around her dying

Anyways, it’s very clear that Falin’s carefree attitude and podunk knowledge helped her get past the worst of her fears, and now Marcille’s able to travel and go on adventures again. Which, again, makes their love hit even harder. And also the terror Marcille feels at the idea of Falin dying. Top yuri couple of all time moment

[miange1]

DONNIE DARKO

need a break from smut, breaking up, manipulation, donnie has no shame, manipulation, murder threats, readers parents are homophobic, frank mentioned like once

he didn't know what went wrong. you two were doing just fine— even if it had to be a bit of a secret from some people, he didn't mind that at all. some people mostly being the parents, no one else really seemed to mind and if they did they didn't show it too much.

but something was weird, really weird. you were acting so distant, finding excuses to dodge any affection or any kisses of his when he could give them to you.

what was going on? were you upset with him..? why were you avoiding him so much?

he asked you time and time again, and you swore it was nothing but he could tell that it was something. what were you hiding from him.

"my boyfriend fucking hates me.." he muttered, laying down on the therapists couch while fiddling with his fingers. dr. thurmans eyebrow raised, taking out her notepad as these sort of talks were rare with donnie. "and why is that, hm? why do you think so?"

donnie's nose crinkled a bit, eyes downward and almost as if he was trying to hide the fact he was gonna cry.

"dunno.." but he did know, he knew damn well you lost feelings for him. you no longer loved him. "he jus' isn't loving me anymore, and—" his voice cracked, face plunging into the soft cushion of the pillow beneath him. "i don't know.."

he missed you so much. missed your voice, your smile, your lips when you'd kiss him. and so much more. why did you leave him? this wasn't fair. he was planning on taking you out today, trying to make up for whatever shit he may have done but you didn't tell him.

and you just pulled him somewhere and made it some sort of official break up. "what.. what?" he felt himself disassociate, not even paying attention to anything you may have said to him.

your lips were moving but he heard nothing. his vision felt like a rewinded vhs player, many things flashing at once and loud static played at his ears. "no." he shook his head, grabbing tightly at your shoulders. "no, no. why? don't leave. no." he repeated those things, not letting you go no matter how much you had pulled.

he couldn't remember much after that. all he knew was that you were gone. he couldn't just let this go, he wouldn't. you were the only one for him, the only one he could be with. there was no one else for him, he would go insane without you.

next day he saw you with a girl. holding hands with her and everything. smiling with her and looking so much more happier with her than you did with donnie. the best you two could do was slightly brush fingers when walking next to each other, smile all you wanted too though.

what did she have that he didn't? really. what was it? did he need to become some prissy little blonde girl? loud mouthed and ear piercing voice? is that what he needed?

the entire day he wouldn't stop looking at you, when you looked back you instantly saw him already staring back. his eyes were sad, and filled with anger, guilt, and confusion. he felt like there was more, you wouldn't just leave him like that. for some girl either.

i mean, you were clearly not into women— this all just seemed so fake.

this was stupid. no, not him sneaking out to find this girls house, that wasn't stupid. what was stupid is that you had to choose her of all people. she was no better than donnie, she was like every other girl. she was nothing special.

he let himself slip in between the window of the blondie's room, snickering to himself as he thought. 'dumb bitch left the window open.'

the sharp metal object he held in his hand was being gripped as if he was choking it, his knuckle churning white and aching. he barely bothered being quiet, he wanted her to wake up anyways.

the bed creaked under his weight, a bit of dirt from his shoes staining her sheets whilst he straddled her. he felt the invisible wall blocking him from you, if he just got her away then that wall would leave as well.

her body would squirm a bit before her eyes shot open, and her first instinct would be to scream so donnie harshly slapped his palm to her mouth. "make a sound n'd i'll cut your tongue out.." he made it clear he had a weapon, showing it to her.

"or maybe," he inched the edge towards her eye, her breathing quickening and tears starting to leave her eyes and stain her cheeks and donnie's fingers.

"i can carve your eye out." his lips slightly inched up, almost as a smile yet it was a bit crooked. "frank would like that..he wouldn't be so lonely.." he still had the object in his hand, but moved it away from her eye.

"you're going to leave him alone— don't give me that fuckin' look, you know who." he was getting ready to snap her neck. he wanted to so damn badly. "by the time i leave this room. you will be out of his life."

it was starting to rain, thunder booming and clashing as trees would bang against his window. he was still awake, book in his hand that he wasn't really reading. he was just looking at it, as if he was waiting for something.

a knock came at his window. there we go. he instantly sat up, looking over to see someone— to see you.

he clicked the little lock at it, moment you had stepped inside you forced yourself into his arms and started bawling. barely coherent 'i'm sorrys' reached him, and he resisted every urge to smile.

"i— i should have—" he wrapped his arms tighter around you, shushing you a bit and kissing your forehead. "what..what happened?"

it took you a moment to get yourself together, and when you did you noticed the state you had put donnie in. "shit, i got you all wet." yeah, in multiple ways then one.

"um..donnie first i just wanna say—" he kissed you. he didn't wanna hear what you had to say because he already knew. what's her face told him what he needed to know, called you to "break up" and left.

"don't talk. please." he walked you back onto his bed, leg in between your thighs as he kept the kiss going. the flow of it got rougher and rougher, like the two of you were trying to morph yourselves together.

like you relied on each other, and you would for as long as the two of you could.

[stvolanis]

PT.2

it was late at night when drug dealer! Rafe parked in front of your house in his truck that seemed too expensive for him considering what he was dropping off to you. You were shy, you’d never tried anything before—even though weed was common amongst your friends, you were always to scared to try it. Your friend Rose slid you her drug dealers instagram, and instructed you on how to act and what to say—but god, Rafe didn’t expect an absolute vision to walk outside.

Rafe immediately rolled down his window, almost like he was trying to get a better look at you the closer you approached. Your flimsy tank top didn’t leave much to hide, and his eyes zeroed in on the strap that fell off your shoulder and the faint outline of your nipples. fuck, you were trying to kill him, weren’t you? Your little white skirt made his cock twitch in its confinements, and he knew if you turned around he’d be able to see your ass cheeks faintly peeking out from the bottom.

you walked over to the passenger side of his truck nervously, opened the door and sat down just as your friend had instructed you to. “Uhm, hi.” You said after a moment of awkward silence. Rafe didn’t respond, only grunting in response as he dug through a bag trying to find what was yours. “This it, yeah, pretty girl?” He said, pulling out a purple see through bag filled with bud. “Yeah, uhm, how much did you say?” She asked, fumbling with her wallet for a second.

Rafe looked at her through hooded eyes, not necessarily because he was high, but because he was imaging every other better way of payment she could give him. He kept his mouth shut, but he didn’t miss the way her cheeks turned red after he’d called her pretty. “Whatchu doin’ with this anyway, huh? I wouldn’t take you as the type to do this shit. Too prissy.” He chuckled, manspread and relaxed. You gulped, squeezing your thighs together as heat pooled to your core. “Jus’ wanted to try it.” You responded, huffing in embarrassment at his mocking tone.

“I got something better you can try, baby.”

TAG LIST: @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @luxuriouslokistan-3 @jazminsjaz @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @floredaqueen @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy @vogueprincess @scintilla-morningstar @liv-n @armandosbabymama @axailslink @cosmixstar @bamtorriii

[rainydayathogwarts]

Ron weasley - Opposite teams

Summary: You play a match against your boyfriend, who's a very sore loser. wc: 2k

Seeing him on the pitch shouldn't have had such an effect on you, especially considering you were playing for the opposite team. The gear looked good on him, and confidence was beaming off his skin, but you were one of the best chasers at Hogwarts, priding yourself on how rarely you missed a shot. "Pull yourself together Y/N!" Flint yelled at your frozen form, still in shock of what had happened. It was all because Ron had flashed you that stupidly gorgeous smile when you were about to score that you hesitated - hesitated enough for him to read your body language and predict your next move, easily catching the quaffle when you threw it. Even your boyfriend had been surprised, well aware of how good you played from years of watching you on the field.

"Wow! It seems as though L/N is too charmed by her boyfriend to get a good shot, this is a new one folks!" Begins Lee, rousing up those in the bleachers. "And it looks like Slytherin Captain Flint is calling for a time out! Good choice I'd say!" It was already embarrassing enough that the entire school knew the time out was being called because you were too hot and bothered by your boyfriend, but your face flushed a dark red the second the Slytherin team turned to look at you in disappointment. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't know what got into me, he's just so- I can't be the primary shooter I'm sorry!" The entire team looked back at you as you rambled and you felt your face get impossibly warmer realising you were gushing about your boyfriend to six teenage boys. "I'm sorry." You muttered.

"Y/N's right," Starts Flint again, "She shouldn't be the primary shooter for this game..." His voice trails off and your gaze drifting to where to Gryffindor team stands. You can see them laughing for a moment, and Harry pats Ron on the back - the reason you missed literally couldn't have been more obvious and they were having a field day about it. "Got it Y/N?" Your head snaps back to Flint, looking at you with raised eyebrows. Your face goes blank, your mouth opening as though to say 'what' but nothing comes out. "You'll switch places with Nott as secondary." Malfoy says quietly to you, and you perk up "Yes, got it!" Flint doesn't look convinced, but calls time out to be over anyway, and everyone gets back on their brooms.

"Stay focused or I'll knock your boyfriend off his broom!" The remark is clearly aimed at you, but is loud enough for both teams to hear and you glance at Ron, whose face has blanched at the comment. You turn away from him, trying not to smile, and the whistle blows. Nott scores time after time after time, and you can see your boyfriend's confidence decreasing while his anger increases. Nott passes you, high-fiving you on the way back to his post. "Good strategy change by the Slytherin team, it seems that they're back - OHH AND MALFOY CATCHES THE SNITCH, GAME OVER EVERYONE!" You're relieved to be off your broom when the game end and you sigh deeply, rolling your head in a circle to try and stretch a kink in your neck out.

You finally join your team, earning pats on the back by them, and teasing comments "Well he's not gonna be happy about that one." and "Good luck getting laid tonight." The comments follow you all the way back to your dorm since Pansy walks with you back to the common room. "I don't even know how that happened though! You never miss! Like you can't be so attracted to someone that, well that happens. He's going to be in such a prissy mood, good luck with that."

The party in the common room is in full blow when you finish showering and getting dressed. You're clad in a tight black mini-skirt with a red crop top, something your boyfriend will hopefully appreciate. "I see what you're doing." You're interrupted by Draco, who eyes your outfit once before handing you a drink. "I think you underestimate just how capable I am of getting my boyfriend in bed, Malfoy." He grins, shaking his head "Well if you have the effect on him that he had on you, I doubt it'll take much." You scoff in amusement, the jokes will never end. "Hey if Marcus asks where I am, don't tell him I'm sleeping with the enemy." But Flint is already beside you, muttering "Cheers" under his breath, so you scurry away quietly, starting your trek to the Gryffindor common room.

The Gryffindors' party is completely different. The music in the background is quiet, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team sits together, each player with a drink in hand while they talk. Others seem to be having more fun than them. When Ron spots you walking towards him, he rolls his eyes, clearly upset. His teammates, on the other hand, greet you kindly, some even joking about the slight incident on the field. You stand in front of Ron, putting a knee on the couch between his legs to support yourself when you put your hands on his shoulder, leaning into his body.

Despite Ron's free hand coming to the back of your thigh, he still mutters "I'm not in the mood." though he leans into your touch when one of your hands comes up to play with his hair. You tilt your head down so your lips barely graze his ear "You're so hot when you're angry." Ron stiffens, looking up at you, but your head is already dipping lower so you can press kisses on his neck. He shivers at the cool touch of your slightly wet hair on his collarbone, and his eyes flutter close for a moment. When he opens them back up, Harry is grinning at him and wiggling his eyebrows. Someone wolf whistles, but he doesn't know if it's directed to you. He feels your teeth graze the spot you've been sucking on right below his ear and he sighs, trying to disguise his pleasure as annoyance, pushing your hip away from him.

Yes, he wants you, but he has to at least pretend that he doesn't for a while longer because he's still angry, and wants you to feel as though you need to try a little to win him over. You've played his game before, and you know what follows. When Ron nudges at your hips one more time, you separate from him, tilting his chin up so he can look at you. He's putty in your hands, but you like to give him the illusion of being in control, so when you kiss him, it's a soft, almost desperate kiss. "Ronnie," you plead "Please." And that soft whisper is enough to make him begin to stand up. You back away, pushing your bottom lip forward and making doe eyes at your boyfriend to stop yourself from grinning in accomplishment.

His shoulder brushes past you and he begins walking up to his dorm, but when you catch up with him, snaking your hand in his, he only holds your hand tighter, so you know you've won. Ron's door slams shut behind you, and immediately, hands are on you, pushing you against the door and groping your ass while he kisses you aggressively. The kiss is filled with angry passion, and Ron's tongue is fighting against yours for dominance. Both your arms are thrown over Ron's shoulder in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer to you so your tits are pushed up into his chest. The hands on your ass move to your front, sliding up your crop top and cupping your tits, while Ron pulls away from the kiss to attack your neck.

Moans are immediately escaping your mouth in soft breaths, your back arching into Ron's hands, pulling and massaging at your breasts, teasing your nipples. His teeth bite at your neck, and one leg comes to shove itself right between your thighs and you jerk up, an electric shock being sent right through you. At your loud gasp, Ron looks down to where his leg connected with your cunt, and his hand immediately pushes your skirt up to find that you're not wearing panties. "What a little slut. No underwear under a mini-skirt? You're practically begging." He grunts, and you whine, grinding your pussy against his thigh. "Just for you, Ronnie."

The comment seems to make him happy, at least happier than he was before since he starts working on taking your top off. "Get this skirt off now." He mutters, his attention back on your tits the second they're exposed. Your bra drops to the floor at the same time your skirt does. Ron pulls away from where he was leaving hickeys on your tits, and takes a moment to oggle at your naked body. You falter under his stare, a hand coming up to grab the material of his t-shirt. "Ron?" At the sound of his name, he looks back up, taking an impossible step closer to you and pressing his lips to yours in a slow kiss. "You're so fucking amazing." He mutters between kisses, all of his previous anger seemingly gone "Don't deserve this. Don't deserve you." Before you can react to his words, his hands are wrapping around your waist and carrying you to his bed, where he immediately shuts the curtains of his four-poster.

He wastes no time pressing his clothed cock against your naked, which has you moaning his name, bucking your hips up for more friction. "Take it off, take it off." You beg. He complies, chuckling at the sight of your hips bucking up, but takes his time stroking his cock once it's finally freed. His demeanour completely flips the second he pushes into you; his hips snapping at a faster pace than you can keep track of, his hands grabbing both your legs to pull over his shoulders. The angle is perfect and with the way his cock is hitting the right spot with every stroke, you're sure you won't last ten minutes.

You're tightly gripping the bed sheets and you're almost positive that your eyes are going to get stuck at the back of your head because of how hard they're rolling back. "Mmph, bloody hell you feel so nice." The compliment only spurred the pleasure inside you and you moaned louder, bucking your hips up for something more - anything more. Ron's hand comes down to your clit in a harsh slap, and quickly starts putting pressure on it, watching as you squirmed underneath him at the extra friction. His pace sped up and your legs started to shake on his shoulders, a sign that you were clearly close. Ron's hand begins rubbing quick circles on your clit and hips start erratically jerking into you as he releases his load into you, triggering your very own orgasm.

Ron rides out both your orgasms, stilling his movements when you put a hand on his chest. He pants, his chest heaving with every breath he takes as he takes your legs off his shoulders. "Christ, that was too much exercise for one day." He mutters, looking down at you when you open your arms wide for him. He falls into your awaiting arms and mumbles "Can't sleep. Need to clean you up." You moan, shaking your head at him. "Just five minutes."

[tactical-jellyfish]

How the 141 handles long-term relationships

Warnings!: Nothing, other than a reference to Simon's dad. Just silly fluff to tide my sillies (you guys) over until the new chapters of the big boy fic(s) are done :)

Also: Price isn't included in this because I wrote a fic where he's an absolute asshole and accidentally made myself dislike him. Might add him later, idk.

Simon Riley is not nearly the stern man everyone thinks he is when he's at home.

It's kind of funny, really, but he's quiet, and he is stupid in love (assuming he already trusts you as a partner, which, if he's dating you, he does). Something like a cat, really.

He wants to be in your vicinity, always. He wants to know you're safe and okay at every hour he can, but sometimes he can't handle all that lovey shit.

This is why I do think Simon would spring for someone who is very quiet, and not very touchy. He adores that, he really does. It would be even better if you didn't mind having a big, bulky man staring at you while you work for hours on end.

It's to the point that, when the rest of the task force comes over, they aren't sure if you're a roommate or a spouse(?) until they see Simon gently bump his forehead with yours, watch how he follows you the same way a prissy longhair will trail after its nonchalant owner.

Price pulls you over that night and tells you that you have his full permission to marry the lieutenant. Simon hears him, but he doesn't say anything.

Another thing: He wants desperately to take your last name. It doesn't matter if it's stupid, he wants it so badly.

He's a bastard even with a father who was a bastard. His name links him back to corpses and an abuser, he wants to be rid of it. He won't ask, but if you do, he cries.

You've seen Simon cry before. You have. Mostly after nightmares, the especially bad ones. This is nothing like that.

He cries of joy before you twice. The first is when you let him take your last name, and the second is on your "wedding" day.

There is no ceremony, just a short trip to the courthouse. He cries anyway, watching you sign the papers, pulls you into a firm hug as he sniffles into your shoulder, tells you how much he fucking adores you.

He won't let you forget that. Ever.

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

Johnny MacTavish is a harder task.

He's always one very predictable sort of way in his relationships: Playful. Loving and witty, always ready to tease.

Sure, there are days he's tired, days he's beat to the bone and he just wants to collapse and let moss grow over him, but he sees you and he gets a shot of something divine.

It doesn't matter who you are, really. Sometimes he needs you to match the energy a little, but other than that, he could get on well with any partner, as long as love is reciprocal.

Weddings, though... it depends.

This is where most of my more personal headcanons come into play here. I really think Soap's family is very Catholic. And that Soap is very bisexual.

If his family doesn't know (assuming the relationship is straight, too), it's great! It's a packed venue, sure, but it's raucous in the loving, familial way.

Soap wears his best kilt, cries a little as you walk down the aisle and kisses you so long his mother smacks him over it.

If not (he got kicked out, presumably years before)... it's much less fun.

He still adores you, truly, but, again, it's a bit solemn for him. Seeing you, perfect you, ready to marry a man who has no family left who wants him, it's a nasty feeling.

Johnny sees you the way he thinks everyone should. You're a person, yes, but of practically biblical levels of perfection, in his eyes. You've put up with so much, done so much, and you want him.

He won't ever get to show you to his mother, or his sisters, or his cousins, but he wants to. God, does he want to. He just knows they would have adored you, as they should.

But he can't. And it bums him out, it really does.

Still, he takes your face into his hands, and kisses you like the sinner he is, pours himself into your silhouette like he could somehow peel your ribs apart and find a space near your heart, to sit and love you for as long as he can.

No one is there to smack him for taking too long, and you hold him. And that's enough.

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

Kyle Garrick is honestly the least challenging to end up in the good graces of.

He wants, more than anything, a peer. Someone who he can talk shit with and feel good confiding in.

So, of course he fell into a relationship with you. How could he not? Look at you. Brilliant, he'll say that. Brilliant, and an absolute menace with the silveriest tongue he's ever seen.

Again, like most, he's not really crazy about getting married. Not while he has a job so risky and at his age. It's more of an eventually, he feels no pressure to lock you down so fast, he already knows he has you, and that's enough for him.

This is most of the reason why the engagement is so long. I'm talking several years. Yes, multiple years. Moved in together, got a pet or two, even the rings.

And it's great, everything he could ask for. He comes home to a brilliant partner every day he's got the time, and he always wants to see you, because you're you. You can discuss, you can debate, and you can pull him over and tell him when he's being stupid.

The partnership works. And it keeps working.

At some point, you two were effectively married in everything but law, so you just forgot about the "wedding" bullshit and got one of his aunts to officiate in the living room and had a party that night with family.

Like any good soldier, Kyle has many issues with stress when he's home. His ultimate solution is to cuddle you whenever you won't be annoyed with it. Sometimes you talk, sometimes it's quiet, he doesn't mind.

He just wants you. Always.

And he knows he always will.

[princessbrunette]

thoughts on jj x bunny!reader ??

oooof, yes. i think it’s time we revisit the au where it’s bsf!jj and kook, prissy, well groomed bunny!reader.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 ⋅🐰 ˖°

you’re total opposites. yes you want to fuck eachother. yes you’re both oblivious to this.

your parents were never a fan of the pogue boy from the start. especially your father. he didn’t like the way that dirty pogue with the big smug smile would shake his hand at the door when he’d come round to pick you up, still wearing that black backwards cap and an expression that said ‘i’m probably balls deep in your sweet innocent daughter. you’ll never know.’ they’d scowl when they’d watch you disappear down the driveway with him, clutching his arm, practically rubbing all up on him in your tiny skirts. sometimes he’d even look back at them with a cheeky grin, like he just couldn’t believe it either. it was obscene, but they couldn’t stop you. you were soft, yes — but what bunny wanted, bunny got — and it just so appeared that bunny wanted to slum it with some blonde stoner from the cut, so for now they’d have to bite their tongue until you learn your lesson.

jj can’t spoil you like he wants to, no— he’s broke, and plus there wasn’t much you didn’t already have. but he’ll be damned if he didn’t give you the princess treatment, it was the least he could do for perving on his sweet, innocent best friend who knew no better (right?)

what this entails, is never having the power to tell you no. you need picking up from a kook party because you’re too tipsy and he certainly doesn’t trust rafe cameron to see it to it that you’re safe? he’s already outside, and has been for twenty minutes. you wanna learn how to smoke weed because you’ve never done it before? it’s better off he teaches you anyway, right? he would put his foot down with you, clearly needing some guidance and ‘taming’ if you will, but it’s harder than it seems.

“please, jayj?” you cling to his arm stood at his side, plush tits pressed against his bicep and eyelashes batting up at him routinely.

“nah, don’t do that.” he groans, shutting his eyes.

“pleaaaase?”

“you know it’s like, really not fair to pull the doe eyes on me. disappointing you is like… choking out a baby rabbit or something.”

“so you’ll come with me?” you muse hopefully and his eyes flutter, bordering on a roll as he licks his lips.

“fine, okay? fine.”

“weak.” john b passes by, clucking his tongue with a smug head shake.

“weak and pussy whipped.” pope follows him, bringing his can to his lips.

he’s also always getting looped into all of your girly shit somehow. “lets uh, keep this our special little secret, yeah cupcake?” he’s likely to say from your bedroom wearing a robe too small for him with cucumbers on his eyes, a victim of your ‘spa day’— which he secretly agreed to because he saw the potential of some possible feel-ups. maybe a massage, or showering together. not this shit.

you’ve also heard the phrase. “aint no way you’ve tied a pink ribbon to my bike again, princess.” more times than you can count. again, girly shit.

it does pay off though, the pogue tucked up in your pristine bed when your parents are out of town, whistling jokingly when you arrive back from the shower with just a towel tied round you.

“ooo—wee, aint that a sight.” he calls and you giggle, walking over to his side.

“not ashamed of anythin’ around you, jayj— just that comfortable. look!” you pull the towel off, giggling and doing a spin as you reveal your still dripping naked figure, pretty much the blondes wet dream presented before him.

it’s safe to say he nearly loses composure, but he’ll settle for you riling yourself up based purely on his reaction and praise, writhing your naked body on his lap only fifteen minutes later, humping him through his sweatpants.

“th—this isn’t normal for best friends, jj!” you mewl, body still warm and damp as he paws at you anywhere he can get his hands on.

“sure it is, sweetcheeks. don’t even trip.”

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 ⋅🐰 ˖°

[lexicorp]

Here to politely request your version of the Seeker Boys lore 🙏, if you feel so inclined as to share

[i got distracting doodling the sillies but i am /so/ inclined sdfnwifb]

So FIRST! we got Starscream! (youngest)

as you can see, he absolutely has his shit together :>

When it comes to his mentor Cryak, I tend to think of this fic by zeropro which i def recommend. After separated himself from her, he found himself enlisting in the Elite Guard of Vos. He quickly rose in the ranks, and met Thundercracker and Skywarp there, where the three rose up together as Starscream became the leader of the guard, much like in TF1. Overtime, the essentially police work, and monotonous servitude to the Primes got Starscream antsy. He didn't like how they were dismissed and given all the shit jobs the prissy higher ups didn't want. So, he decided to try and get into the Academy, since his time with Cryak had instilled an interest in such scientific endeavors. He managed to get in, juggling school and his work. He also met Skyfire of course (I wont delve too much into that part cuz it'd get p long-), aaaaand it was going great, with exhibitions to other planets in search of energon and possible settlements. But then on one to Urth back in da day, Skyfire was lost to the storm, and Starscream was forced to return without him despite his efforts. He was expelled from the school because of this on the basis of negligence essentially (they were itching for a reason to kick him out).

All that leads to when the next time he goes to a gladiator fight with warp and thunder to see the self proclaimed Megatron (prev D-16) in the ring as they often did, when Megs began his speech about how the system with the miners is screwed up, prejudice running rampant, and how shit needs to change: Starscream starts getting hella deep into that shit. Cuz he's pissed af now. He started meeting with megatron and openly supporting him as he was still the leader of the Elite Guard. Funding campaigns and giving information. This behavior got him flack from biches like Sentinel (more passive aggressive cuz that hoe had his own plans), and also the Primes, who were convinced that the system they had was necessary and tried to talk to him many times and when he tried to convince /them/ to change shit and set up mtgs for Megs, they wouldn't rlly listen (or their compromises were mediocre).

At that point in the lore, Megs and Star had an actually pretty good relationship for the most part. Even if Megs often prioritized Orion and their plans, and often would twist stars advice to make it sound like he had actually come up with it (Star brushed those things aside cuz he did admire Megatron and felt he had more right to organize this front from his background. His aft got gaslit and gaslit himself fr fr).

Star, Warp, and Thunder were generally on the same page then too. Warp hella down for usurping the government, and Thunder riding the high of his brothers' energy and wanting to support them.

Then, whole shit goes down of Sentinel and his accomplice assassinate the Primes (is framed as an accident and he tries to come back like oh yeah, I'm in charge now, so sad, much mourning). Starscream suspects it was bullshit, and he and Megatron plan to murder dat bich. Orion is against it of course, but follows them to continue to try and convince them to stop. How it ends, is Megatron gutting sentinel, and attempting to take the mattrix from him, but it denies him and chooses orion, which pisses him off. (detailing that would bleed more into Megs lore soo anyway-) Starscream was honestly like "wtf", and just follows Megatron out when Prime tells them to leave.

Then it goes into the war era, with Megatron rallying the Decepticons into a full ass force and announcing his plans to fuck shit up, and challenging Optimus. This is when Star and Meg's relationship starts going to shit. things get progressively worse and worse through the war, as Starscream is listened to less and less, and they get into fights often. This then starts reflecting onto his relationship with his brothers. At first, Starscream was decent at coming to them to rant or ask for assistance, but as Warp would show favoritism to Megs, and Thunder would tell him to just play it safe instead of starting fights, Starscream got more and more distant and bitter.

Oh! Also theres the fun Outlier factor where I imagine Star's is like super healing coded. Has a high ass damage threshold and very energy efficient (which can lead to him forgetting to fuel). The extreme end of this ability activates upon death, where his spark will hard deny separation and jumpstart his aft to life again and will try its best to heal his frame back to a functioning level. (which is rlly how he survived the shit that killed Skyfire) [bit about his optics]

***

Then there's Thundercracker (middlechild-)

He didn't exactly have much of a Mentor, per say. He was onlined specifically for the Elite Guard, and was just guided by his superiors and expected to just figure it out and follow orders. He had his love for writing for a long time, and often uses it as a form of escapism. He also loves to critique movies and shit. Loves musicals-

He and Starscream actually initially bonded over this when Star had asked about it and showed interest, which not many others besides Skywarp had. Thunder would script-write little plays, and Starscream would always claim the lead role. Those were coveted nights in the prewar era for Thundercracker. Where they would practice, brainstorm improvements, screw around, and maybe have some high grade. It made him truly feel like he was a part of something, when so often before warp and star, he'd been alone in his passions just going along with the motions.

Thundercracker found the Gladiator fights, that Warp introduced them to, fascinating more than anything. He enjoyed the hype and community that came with it, although did find the premise unsettling. So when Starscream started working with Megatron, and the whole rising revolution shit, he was like, "oh yeah, that sounds cool". He honestly perceived it with more anime optics, tfe hashtag ass processor over here, as he thought the idea of rising up and bringing the world into a new age was awesome! He wasn't a fan of being "just" a seeker of the Guard, he wanted to be a famous writer, and he thought that whole thing could be the way to make that a reality.

Alas, it all went to shit. The war started, and he felt like everything was falling apart. Starscream had started to get more aggressive, and dismissive. Skywarp was all guns blazing for the blowing up everyone who stood in their way, but thundercracker just...didn't see how a war was going to fix things. he didn't understand why megs and orion fell out, and why optimus wasnt on their side. or why they were fighting instead of fixing things since it seemed like they had just gotten rid of their main obstacles.

Thunder became more disconnected himself as time went on. smothering himself in his art as much as he could. Maladaptive daydreaming for dayz baybe-- He's overall hella frustrated, and just wants things to get better, but doesn't know how, and is just back on the go with the flow grindset.

His tendency to disappear annoys the hek outta screamer. Especially when thunder doesnt tell him where tf he vanishes too when it comes to the Earth era (Thunder meets this human farmer fam, and constantly visits to hang out with their doge Buster.)

***

last but not least, there be Skywarp (oldest)

Their Mentor was a scientist interested in researching Outliers. His earlier cycles were cooped up in labs, doing test after test after test. She hates that shit. Alot- Even joked at Starscream to "not become one of /those/ stiffs" when he'd gone to the Academy. When it came to joining the Elite Guard, it was a helluva an improvement to them, although adored any amount of freedom from the drab parts of the job by hanging with friends and trinemates. Adrenaline junkie and craves /all/ the stimulation.

They love graffiti, makeup/framepaint, and dancing. Would often do cover doodles for Thundercracker's stories, and helped choreograph shit. They /love/ drama, but only when it doesn't get too serious. They have fun with banter, brotherly ragging on each other, aaaand of course pranks. Theyre an absolute menace, but fiercely loyal to those they get close to (starscream would debate that fact when it comes to megatron-).

Skywarp was the first to introduce her bros to Gladiator lore Megatron. They idolize the guy, /heavily/. Which makes things difficult down the road when ol megs starts getting hella questionable, but they don't see it. They still view him the same way thru it all, and couldn't believe starscream's complaints as things deteriorated. Skywarps tendency to believe megs over star, ultimately is what starts driving them apart. Even if Skywarp still tries to bring them together again. They'll often try to rope star and thunder into their shenanigans, and petty schemes against the bots. Occasionally, it works. While others, he just gets an audial full about being immature.

Overall, they thrive in the chaos, but wishes the gang would get back together, and is hella salty about it. But being a silly goofy lad is the best coping mechanism lmao

[inkievoid]

Ballet Shoes and Bulletproof Vests

CW: Recovering from alcoholism (Leons just trying to better himself man

Words: 1k

A/N: 👛anon I've had brain rot because of you. But I still love you pookie.

Blue leotard... Gunmetal blue, his favorite shade. It was almost like you were trying to send a signal through the glass windows of the studio attached to the apartment building gym.

Every weekend for the past few months he'd come down and workout for a two hours without issue. Until you moved into the building a month ago. Walking through the gym in leotards and the same skin tone tights straight into the small studio space.

Leon picked up quickly that you don't seem to be doing mindless pirouettes, pliés or chassé. You practiced the same routine, which means you probably do this for a living. Or at the very least a hobby.

He tried his best to not come off creepy but sometimes he couldn't stop from staring. Leon rarely found beauty in life anymore, something he was trying to fix. His sponsor suggested that life could be worth living if you find something meaningful to live for.

Besides surviving or being a living breathing weapon.

At first, the staring was for more "primal" reasons, but it soon turned to him admiring how gracefully you could move. How sharp your movements were. The clean movements were mesmerizing and very distracting. It certainly didn't help that you were pretty either. But every time you stopped and turned back towards the windows, Leon would turn away immediately. Scared you'd think he was some kind of weirdo or worse...

A pervert.

You were probably way too prissy for him anyway. Why bother window shopping?

You're too pure, jumping around in white satin ballet slippers and him in bulletproof vests with tactical gear. Your worlds can never mix, you're too different. Far too different.

So, with his better judgment, Leon got into the habit of changing his routine and getting up at the crack of dawn like in his army days. Just to go workout first thing in the morning. Leaving the gym as you were coming in.

But one morning you didn't come in as he was leaving. And as usual, he stops at his mailbox, fishing in his jacket pocket as he walks into the main lobby.

And there you were. Stood in front of the mailboxes, sorting through a few envelopes with your tiny mailbox door hung open.

Shit... This is gonna be awkward.

Leon approaches slowly, walking up to his mailbox and ripping his keys out of his jacket pocket. Something round flies out of his pocket with a clatter as it hits the floor. You lift your head to see the green chip rolling across the floor, quickly you step past him and pin it under your shoe.

Leon stares, realizing he forgot to take his chip out of his pocket after his meeting last night. Too tired from a long day at work to remember before passing out in bed as soon as he got home. He can feel his neck heating up, he hasn't even said a single word to you, and now you'll know he's an alcoholic trying to get his life together.

And he's sweaty and gross?!

What a fantastic first meeting...

You bend down, grabbing the green chip from the floor as you walk back. Giving it a glance, you hold it out for him. Slowly he raises his hand, chest tightening as he nods a “Thank You” while taking it.

"90 days is a big accomplishment, you should be proud of yourself." He stared for a moment, fully expecting a dirty look or pity.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I-I am." His lips drew to a line as you walked back around him, shutting your mailbox and locking it. He gives you a glance as you grab your bag from the floor and give him a small smile.

"You're from 3D, right?" You question, his eyes glance at his mailbox, his lips part slightly. Brain trying to process how you knew his apartment without even talking to him.

"Yes?" His eyebrows raised, your eyes fixed on his uneasy response.

"Hmm." She looks him up and down, almost like she's trying to size him up. Or even taken him in completely.

"A little scruffy for my taste, but you'll get the job done." His nose wrinkled as you stepped past him, and headed for the door.

"The hell do you mean by that?" You turned your attention back to him, smiling again.

"The old ladies in the building, they talk about everyone. Well, anyone interesting at least. And they said you're pretty cute. I'd have to agree." He feels his neck burning again, embarrassment of another kind seeping into his collarbone and rising to his cheeks as he smiles a tiny bit.

He was never great with women.

"Thank you..." He clutches the chip in his hand, running his thumb across the bumped out embossing of the metal.

"And um... I know we don't know each other," you step forward again, gesturing to his hands, "but I'm here if you ever need to be talked down... 3 years for me, still have my bad days, but it gets easier with time. I promise."

He looks a little surprised, not expecting you to know his struggles in some way. He just nods, watching you lean to the side, looking behind him and turning back to leave again.

"Congratulations again on 90 days, Leon." You smile, pushing the door open.

"Whoa, wait. What's your-"

"2B!" You yell back without turning around, watching you leave through the doors leading to the gym. His head swivels, looking at the mailboxes. Seeing your name printed a piece of tape stuck to your mailbox.

His mind wanders, thinking of you as he pulls his bills from his mailbox. A folded over flyer was wrapped around the envelopes. Pulling it off the envelope, he gave it a long look. Your face staring back at his as you're leaping in a beautiful flowing white dress and veil.

Giselle printed in fancy font under you pointed toes along with show times for next weekend.

Staring for a second, he thought, pondering over the words of his sponsor telling him to try new things.

Maybe he should try theater.

[into-fiction]

Ok here's another idea. Pirate AU where Elphaba is the captain of a pirate ship and Glinda is a wealthy noble on board a ship Elphaba attacks. She holds Glinda for ransom and they fall in love or Glinda begs to join the crew because she was on her way to be forcibly married to someone she didn't know.

It's kind of shades of Pirates of the Caribbean in my head but less supernatural. Maybe Elphaba has magic and that's how she got her own ship and crew and it's full on misfits like her who were shunned because they're different.

idk if u wanted a drabble for this but i did one anyway lol

///

Elphaba was not in a good mood.

First, because their sail had been significantly more damaged in the attack than she'd expected. Second, because the weather on the horizon looked sour and formidable.

And third, the reason currently making her fists clench and her blood boil, is that their hostage is not being cooperative.

"A bunch of incompetent fools," Elphaba mutters, though the few crew members hustling to keep up with her know she doesn't truly mean it. Elphaba loves her rag-tag crew, and they'd found a family here on the seas that the land had never given them.

But seriously: they couldn't even handle a single prissy noble girl?!

Elphaba slams into the cabin with enough force for her grimy footprint to leave a permanent mark on the door. The single occupant doesn't even flinch, just cocks an eyebrow like the behavior is beneath her.

Glinda Upland is one of the richest nobles this side of Oz, and it was pure luck that Elphaba recognized her family's flag flying from that ship. The small, sleek ship had put up more of a fight than expected, but eventually, she'd been forced to retreat, her most precious cargo locked in cuffs and dragged aboard The Broomstick.

Elphaba had been ecstatic. There was nothing she and her crew hated more than those obnoxious, stuck-up nobles with their fancy parties and their wasted money and their utter lack of empathy or care.

The only thing they did care about, was themselves. The Upland family were well-known for doting on their only daughter and would surely pay out the wazoo to get her back. She was the perfect ransom.

Except that, apparently, she refused to cooperate.

As though she thought she had a choice.

Elphaba tries to impart this on the girl, her blonde hair tangled and her pink dress rumpled and stained. But there is not even a hint of fear in the stupid girl's eyes, not even when the swords come out, and not even when Elphaba brings in her largest crew member.

"You aren't going to hurt me," Glinda says confidently. She crosses her arms and tilts her chin, a tiny smirk pulling on the edge of her lips.

"And what makes you so sure?" Elphaba growls, leaning in to loom over the smaller girl.

Glinda's brown eyes sparkle- not with fear, but with delight. She's enjoying this, the little brat.

"You need me unharmed for this ransom to work. That's why you want me to write the letter myself. Momsie and Popsicle aren't going to pay for a corpse."

"Is that so? Are you sure your parents wouldn't be just as happy to pay up....after we chop one of your fingers off?"

Not even a flicker.

Glinda grins, leaning forward on her toes to get right in Elphaba's face. "What if I gave you an even better offer?" she whispers, glossy pink lips just inches from Elphaba's own.

"Oh?"

"Mmhm." Glinda rocks back, smiling winningly. "You want money, right? Well, I can get you that. I can get you anything you want. I know people."

"And what, pray tell, do you want in return?"

To leave, Elphaba expects the girl to say. To go home.

But Glinda hasn't cooperated with anything Elphaba has assumed so far. Of course, she wouldn't cooperate here either.

"If I help you," Glinda says, brown eyes sharpening into something intelligent and cunning. "Then you have to let me stay. Unharmed."

"What?"

Glinda's hair curls wildly around her face, her dress sways gently by her knees, and her hands, which Elphaba stupidly stupidly hadn't been watching, are slipping out of a pair of cuffs that clatter uselessly to the floor.

"I want to join your crew."

Glinda leans in once more, close enough that Elphaba has to force herself not to lean away.

"I want to be yours."

[brucewaynehater101]

Didn't know who else to send this to, so suffer my brain rot, I guess ♡

Anyway I've been on a fake powers!Tim kick and just the idea of fake psychic/medium!Tim looking unrevealed!hood-jason in the helmet and telling him he'd personally fist fight the crime lords personal demons. Jason is just "child no???? Also how would you manage that??"

Turns out that second question really should have stayed inside the head because Tim just smiled serenely, and 2 hours later, the Joker had been brutally assaulted.

Also, Tim did this as Tim, not as Robin. Jason is now reevaluating litterally everything he was told about this prissy rich kid

Fudge. I love a good fake psychic!Tim AU.

Let's see... as far as fics, obviously we've got to recommend "cards on the table" by wesslan. It's a good Tim joins batfam late au.

Shit... There's another really good one where Tim pretends to be a psychic because he can't otherwise explain how he knows who the Bats are (he's afraid of going to jail or something). They even "train" his powers, lmao. I can't find it, though :(

EDIT: "psych you out" by lukewarmbeefstew. It's locked so you'll need an AO3 account

Anyways! Two AUs inspired by this idea:

First one: Psych inspired AU - Tim, instead of becoming the third Robin, opens up his own psychic detective agency. He utilizes his stalking, hacking, and sneaking skills to gain information on people and pretends all of this "came to him in a vision." He starts this agency a little before Jason dies. Therefore, Jason uses his services to find more info about his bio mom (cause he doesn't want Bruce to find out anything and the agency promises secrecy). Tim finds out all the crimes Shelia committed, passes that info to Jason, and unknowingly prevents his death. Jason and Bruce still have a falling out, but Jason just moves in with Dick instead. The Bats are trying to prove that he's lying about his capabilities, but they can't quite catch him yet.

Second one: Tim, as the Dick Grayson fan he is, doesn't want to implicate Dick by admitting that his Robin gave away their identities to nine year old Tim Drake. Therefore, he knocks on Bruce Wayne's door and tells him that his "vibes are rancid" and Tim's there to fix em. Tim ends up becoming Robin and spends the majority of his career ensuring anyone who can give away his non-psych status (e.g. Martian Manhunter, Raven, etc.) are not in the same room with Tim and a Bat. He also has to go out of his way to procure information via stalking without the Bats somehow figuring it out.

The second one fits the ask better! Tim in that one is unhinged and has a habit of speaking in what he calls his psychic mannerisms. He has to sound all mysterious and mystic and shit to sell the act, but he also ends up being blunt as hell. This is how he ends up telling Bruce that his aura is "like a kicked puppy Bat dipped in angst glitter sauce." No, he does not elaborate.

[carmenberzattosgf]

[sorry this is so long....time got away from me and in an hour and 20 mins i was possessed by the writing spirit that SHOULD BE INSPIRING ME TO DO MY HOMEWORK....ahem ahem...anyways. yea :) habby valentimes day :) a fic for youe :)...!] having a relationship with carmen was like breathing in prophetic future tense. you know, from the moment you wake up in the morning to an empty bed, that by the time your head hits the pillow the coming evening, carmen will have had at least one full uninterrupted hour of pawing at your flesh till satisfaction. you know that, when he’s stressed and overworked, by the time you two fuck it out of each other, you will have had sweat beading in every crevice of your skin, and pinned by his dead weight, you will have had to whine and plead and squirm just to get yourselves into the shower.

so, when the start of a new year, the stagnation in uncomfortable weather, and a clawing mind fuck of your circadian rhythm going out of wack all set in like sisters to give you a hellish week, you just force yourself to move between pulses of blood. you are stressed. you will be better. you will have been stressed, and he will have already made it better. you were pained and you were better. it has all already happened, even as it’s happening, even as it is yet to happen. it’s not a matter worth questioning, and it’s as sure as thought happens in your mind. you are already going to be made better.

carmen is meticulous and particular, though at this point, your mind is tinged, and it can only come up with conniving, mean, Machiavellian. your partner is a wicked piece of filth for how he treats you, for how he plays your body, for how he steels his willpower when he wants to. an orgasm for every layer of clothes between his touch and your flesh, to melt away that prissy little furrow in your brow you brought home with you.

for the first build-up, you’re entirely still frustrated, still annoyed with the professor who keeps leaving you notes about diction, who nitpicks your theories in class and turns to nod along to another student who’d be better situated in a junior high review course. shit, you need to stop being so mean, you tell yourself, maybe you're the one trying to take this course too seriously. but carmen, eyes calm, words clear, creeps his fingers through your mind to find what he needs to get done. so as he guides you to grind over his knee through the fabric of your skirt, he reaches over to massage your wrists, all click-y and sore from expo markers and flat keyboards. you can’t relax into him, not yet. no draped cuddles and sweet moans, no soft kisses on the neck, sloppy and saccharine, not just yet. all he’s looking for is that soft huff at the exhale of your breaths. just physiological for now, he knows what he’s working towards, he knows your mind isn’t quite here yet. the ice machine on the counter is making an odd noise and you want to go fix it. you’re close to cumming, carmen’s thick cock is chubbing up in his old sweatpants and you’re trying to figure out if that’s the sound the machine makes when it’s empty, or when the ice is stuck. yeah, we’re not there yet.

the second orgasm, stockings stretched taut over your legs, pulling a slight little divot into your stomach from where the elastic band reaches up, and to make things fair, carmy will shed a layer too. his ears are pink in that sweet little way he gets when he likes something he doesn’t want to comment on. your slick seeping through your soaked panties and into the seam of your stockings, writhing over his cock strained against his boxers is seemingly really doing it for him. your mind is working it’s way towards that single-track pleasure state he’s drawing you into, and it’s definitely making the burn in your thighs worth it. you can allow yourself to get closer now, chest brushing against his, arms draped over his shoulders, soft little pants against the collumn of his throat, toes curling and tensing as the sound of your arousal becomes faintly audible. and, for all your kvetching earlier, carmen isn’t entirely sadistic, so he wedges one of his hands between the crux of your thighs and his lap, working his fingers over the fabric, a tense exhale pulling from his lungs as he finds a searing heat even through those layers. but he’s patient. he can be patient. he will be, he already has been patient. this one comes quicker, with affectionate kisses smeared over his jaw and cheeks, his lips finding their own trail at the cozy softness of your neck, and one of his favorites, that little hollow under the lobe of your ear where the bone of your jaw starts, a little nibble that always makes your breath go funny and your fingers twist up into little fists.

no, you haven’t done your math wrong. carmen is finally allowed to peel off his boxers, but you’re still stuck in an uncomfortably soaked set of underwear. but carmen, sweet carmy, darling carm, is entirely gracious, is sweet to you. baby, he knows you, of course this is how it’s gonna go. he shepherds you quietly to your bedroom [unplugs the ice machine on the way. you think you’re going to swoon], and finally, as a relief to your stiffened muscles, you get to lay down. blissful relaxation for a full breath, in and out, and you even get in a delicious little yawn and stretch, as carmen crawls over the bed to hover his way over you. smiling now, both of you. he’s smart, honey, he knows what he’s doing, he knows why he’s doing it. and he knows that it’s going to drive you entirely fucking mad and whiney when he settles into a rythmn of smoothly pressing and dragging his cock over your entirely empty, blood-flushed, swollen, needy, clothed cunt, with an utterly enamoured warmth on his face as he looks down at you. he loves you, so, so bad. you want to bite him and kick out at the mattress and throw an absolute fit. it’s not fair. it’s entirely not fair. he gets you all sticky and gross and needy and heaving like an animal in heat, just so he could watch you squirm with those pretty half-lidded eyes? carmen berzatto can actually go fuck himself.

you need to trust him more, you really do. halfway between the third spiel you were about to give on reciprocal affection and half-whined complaints and insults, carmen just sticks his middle and pointer fingers into your mouth, watching silently as you sputter for a moment, a chest-fluttering sigh leaving his soft lips as he strokes gently at the wet muscle of your tongue, something sickeningly affectionate in his eyes. and once that mouth is occupied, off come the panties, and you practically claw at his arm in anticipation. an inexplicably sweet gesture, carmen’s fingers slip out of your mouth, to be replaces by his own tongue, as he guides himself into your warmth, that sore, empty stickiness, a garbled whine he pours into your mouth when he goes as far as is comfortable. and then, blissful movement. and you remember why you stuck through this whole game. carmen, beauteous carmen, one spit-slicked hand holding the side of your face, the other pawing at the softness of your stomach, is fucking every thought out of your head. he’s perfect and warm and strong and he reminds you to breathe when you space out, eyes unfocused as you let him drive into you until you’re limp. limp, but not having cum yet. no, you’re just perfectly fucked stupid for him, just like you needed, just like you came into your home, pouting and stamping and begging for. you’re not sure what day of the week it is, but you think the weekend is something that’s happening soon. you’re not sure what color the sheets are, but you know they’re sticking to the small of your back. and carmen, carmen throughout all of it. in your mind, in your face, in your skin, in your hair, pumping in and out of your sweet clutch, pulsing so perfectly, just for him. in the end, it really is more simple than you think it would be. one last orgasm for you, brought upon by a few slick swipes over your clit as he nudged up into the soft patch of heat that punched breaths out of your lungs, and instead of a sweet little keening whimper, climax comes with a low, rasped-out groan from your kiss-bitten lips, and carmen pulls out to jerk himself to finish, knowing that you were undeniably already sore from how much tedium he’d put your poor muscles through. but this quiet now, your eyes closed, the backs of your knees weirdly sweaty, your hands feeling limp, this is good. all you need to do is breathe, just breathe, and you feel good. a thump onto the bed next to you, and a heavy arm drapes over your stomach loosely, a slightly clammy hand rubbing softly over your ribs. he doesn’t expect words out of you, but his heart is entirely warmed by the imprecise little kiss you mush against his cheek. this is good. this is just plain good.

-🫒

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TO ME. I HAVE NO WORDS NO NOTES THIS ATE THE FUCK DOWN. I’m properly tagging this so more people can see this masterpiece. I LOVE YOU 🫒 THIS IS A LOVELY GIFT

[flor4de4amor]

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

click for palestine | read before engaging w my work+acc

warnings: smoking, drinking, party setting

summary: you’re the basketball manager of abby’s team. you hate her, and for why? she can’t help but notice you’re at the same party as her.

She’s a tough player. She bleeds stark crimson, screams confidence, and demands respect on the court. She owns the court and the crowd. As captain of the team and star player, she constantly has girls throwing themselves at her.

“Abby can you sign my tits?”

“Abby can I take a picture with you?” 

“Abby will you go out with me?”

Abby. Abby. Abby.

While, it’s an ego boost, huge, ego boost, she can’t lie and say it doesn’t get boring. Which is why, she absolutely adores you. Team manager, pain in her ass, and absolutely gorgeous. 

Always rolling your eyes at her, cutting her off when she speaks, “forgetting” to film her for the team’s social media. You work overtime to stay out of her way, but that only riles her up more. 

Now she’s got to piss you off. Get in the way of your shots of video, flipping off the camera in group pictures so now they’re totally useless, causing problems so you get in trouble. God, you’re so uptight. Can’t you learn how to have a bit of fun? Fucking stick up your ass. A good time has never hurt anyone.You’re the only one who gets her acting this way. Before you started the Anderson smear campaign, she was a dictator of a captain.

So imagine her surprise, when she sees Little Miss. Prissy at the latest frat party. Miss. Stick Up Her Ass, has quite the tolerance it seems, as she admires you smoking a thick blunt coaxed with a solo cup. She sucks her teeth, closes her hand into a fist, and runs over her knuckles with her thumb. Ms. Perfect, isn’t so perfect after all. 

She can’t help herself. She starts walking towards you, with that stupid smile on her face. “Hey L/N,” she says, looking you up and down. You look upwards at her, glancing away from your phone, and rolling your eyes. You grunt in response and offer a sarcastic smile for supplement. “You really gonna be that way?” She raises her eyebrow and presses her tongue against the side of her cheek.

You gulp down the remainder of your drink, and place the empty cup in her hand. “Yes, I’m gonna be that way with you Abby.” Bitterness is laced throughout your voice. 

She grimaces, though there’s no threat in the sound. “Fuck I ever did to you huh?” She questions, leaning into your frame. It’s too loud in here. Mo Mamba is playing for the eightieth time. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to get in your personal space.  Abby discards the plastic cup while speaking, aimlessly throwing it on the floor. If she had been trying, she probably would’ve landed directly in the trash can. Well, if the hosts had half a brain to even set up a trashcan in this stupid trap house.

You lean further back and fail. The back of your skull hits the dry wood with a soft thump. Abby’s cornered you against the wall. “Nothing.” You sigh. Alcohol glued to your breath. Eyes red and lidded, your lips jutted slightly. You’re too pretty to hate her. It’s a crime!  

“Nothing yeah?” She steals the blunt from your hands, holding it between her thick fingers. “So what’s your fucking issue with me?” She holds the drug to her lips, her arms still boxing you close to her frame.

You look her up and down. “I’m a mandated reporter y’know. I’ve gotta tell Coach you’re smoking.” 

She laughs heartily. Her breath fans against your face, and you smell the Fireball on it. “I get someone else to take my drug test for me, anyway.” She winks at you. You’re attempted to cringe, but maybe it’s the lack of space or your intoxication but you feel heat rushing to your face.

You’re complied to roll your eyes at her comment. “I also have to report that.”

She smiles, licking her lips. “Let me know when you send in the complaint.” The blunt still dangles from her hands and lingers on her lips.  

“Let me know when you’re gonna take a hint and stop teasing me.” You regret the words out of your mouth as soon as you say them. 

She inhales, ghosting impressively. “You wanna be teased?” Her smirk growing, “I’ll show you teasing. Anytime. Just say when L/N.” 

You laugh, tossing your head back, carefully so you don’t hit the wall again. “You’re so not my type,” you state firmly.

“That’s what they all say,” she takes another hit, now blowing rings.

You take the blunt once it leaves her lips. Snatching it from her fingers and capturing it within your own. “You’re being greedy.” You take a large inhale, holding for a minute. Once exhaling, you blow the smoke in her face.

She feigns a pout. You smile and take another inhale. But once ready to breathe out, Abby closes into your face, parting her lips. She gladly inhales your exhale. “That was practically a kiss.” 

“Gross,” you retort, but the smile on your face betrays you. 

“Gross yeah?” She wets her lips, staring heavily at yours.  You nod intensely. Your eyes find their way to her pink lips. “Hm, I’ll show you gross.” She kisses you, softly at first. When you don’t fight her, and in fact moan, she slips her tongue into your wet mouth. You follow suit. Her hand finds its way to your hair. She pulls away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. “Thought you said I was gross?”

“Cause you are,” you say attempting to keep up your facade. 

“I’ll show you how gross I can really be,” her hand coming up to your face, smushing it. 

You swat away her hand, killing your soul a little in the process. “Absolutely not,” you reply without a hint of conviction in your voice. 

“Our secret hm?” 

When she says it like that who’re you to deny? “Fine. But don’t let me end up on the long list of names of girls you fucked.” You toss your blunt into one of the forgotten drinks. 

She pinches your ass, hand finding its way to your waist, leading you out the door. It’s gonna be a long night and embarrassing practice run on Monday.

divider by: @dollywons

[josephquinnswhore]

haven amongst the chaos - arthur morgan x female reader

summary: he finds solace in you.

word count: 2.1k

content warning: mentions of readers controlling father, arthur has low self esteem.

Arthur Morgan.

The name of the notorious outlaw with a large bounty, wanted posters plastered in many cities West and East, the man that your father critically despised and scolded you for even being seen with.

Not only were you seen with him in the small saloon of Rhodes, word has it from your father’s buddy, you’d been frolicking with the outlaw. Stools pulled close, your shoulders touching, his hand on your knee.

How could you allow such a prosperous act?

But once turned into twice.. turned into.. well—how many times? You’d stuck by Arthur’s side for months now, like a thorn he can’t remove. It’s unusual for someone to stay by his side like this. After Mary—he thought he would never feel for anyone again, but with you… things felt different.

Arthur was starting to understand a sense of you. The reason you did things, in a way of similarity and familial confines that almost reminded him of Mary’s father. He would never be good enough, the likes of you. For any father wanting their beautiful young daughter to wed.

But unlike Mary, you didn’t care about what your father thought. Didn’t stick by his drastic and old age morale. This is the way of the world now, you admired Arthur for that. To be able to live this unique lifestyle and have so many people around him in a family commune with a still sight and hopeful spirit.

The camp itself was beautiful. A dozen or so tents, many horses and a few small campfires. As wonderful as you remember, anyway. You’d made a few friends here, Mary-Beth, Molly, Lenny, Charles, hell—you’d even befriended Kieran.

That in itself was enough for Arthur to start being kinder to Kieran, it started with a nod of the head, a small smile and now frequent greetings in passing by. Thanks to Arthur and you.. the boy had earned his place among the rest of the gang.

“Hey,” his voice is low and his broad shoulders cast a looming shadow over your resting body. Sprawled out on the small sleeping bag you’d purchased off a small merchant nearby. One palm is holding your cheek and the other hand holds the page of the book steady for you to read. A small blue flower sits beside you, one he’d watched you pick this morning.

“Thought I told you to get off that old thing. Ain’t no good for your back y’know.”

The sides of your lips tug upward at his concern. The ruffles of your dress shift as you look up at him. “You worry too much, Arthur. I ain’t prissy like those girls in Saint Denis. Sleepin’ on the ground ain’t much of a bother to me.”

With a roll of his eyes he offers you his large hand, one that envelops yours completely as you take it, closing your romance book, you set it into your satchel, the small colourful flower you’d been grasping onto finds it’s place beside the photograph of Arthur’s mother.

“You sleep on the cot from now on.” He insists, eying you to see if you’d defy his request, but you don’t.

“I suppose me lyin’ on the ground ain’t the only reason you come pokin’ around?”

His cheeks are dusted with a light shade of pink, and you were right. He did have other intentions.

“Well I.. I was thinkin’ of headin’ out for a fish. Pearson is whinin’ he ain’t got enough food to keep cookin’. Wanted to see if you’d be interested.” His hand rubs the back of his neck nervously. “But maybe I shouldn’ta asked, suppose it’s stupid to ask a woman out fishin’ ain’t it?”

“I’d be delighted to join you,” the tenderness of your voice catches his attention, his gaze now of disbelief.

“You will? I mean.. alright, good. C’mon, I’ll help you mount that oversized horse’a yours.”

Your hands fist the ruffles of your dress and lift them off the ground, new boots that Arthur had gifted are now covered in mud from the overnight rain. His hand hovers over the small of your back, ignoring all the curious and confused stares from each person you pass.

His horse, Bodecia, was hitched next to your own. Your horse.. was giant, really. A Hungarian Half-bred, dapple grey. The colours of white and grey mix in a spotted pattern, sparse her face, which was mostly white, with a grey nuzzle. Costly, too. $150.00, but worth it. She was a loyal creature.

Your pride and joy, Marbelle. Her white mane was styled into six separate braids, as well as her tail. The mount was well cared for, well fed, and perhaps.. a little underused for what she was bred for.

A war horse, known for their fearlessness, used for a realisable steed in battle.. but Marbelle—was a spoilt thing. She refused any one else who tried to saddle her up, who attempted to mount her, she’d buck them straight off, Arthur included.

“Hey girl,” the greeting isn’t complete without a soft pat on her forehead, and reaching into your small leather satchel to hand the horse a wild carrot. Appeased, she nestled her large nuzzle into your chest.

“Damn thing won’t work a day in it’s life now, you got her spoiled.” Arthur’s hands grasp your waist, and he lifts you with ease into the saddle, before mounting Boadicea.

“She would work if I wanted her to.” The man scoffs, readjusting his dark hat.

“Sure.” His voice is full of thick sarcasm. “Come on, Kieran showed me a good spot.”

As you follow Arthur, your horse trotting beside his own to match pace, the silence is something you’ve grown to appreciate. The soft call of a songbird, the scattering of loose roughage from the rabbits that you’d inadvertently spooked. It was a life you’d always dreamed of, away from the suffocating life your father had set for you.

Work in the gardens, scout the town for a successful, wealthy and likely old-aged man, and inherit all of his riches when he eventually dies. Where was the adventure? The sense of fufillment?

Being surrounded by it all, and Arthur, reminds you exactly why you chose this life.

“Seems like you’re warmin’ up to Kieran.”

He grunts. “Gettin’ a pain in my ass, but he works hard, and the kid sure can fish.”

The look on his eyes tells you all that’s left unsaid, he’s warming up to the kid, even if others didn’t quite trust him, shunned him and isolated the young man from the rest of the gang.

“Seems like he’s takin’ a liking to you,” it was a keen observation.

“Then it seems the kid’s as brainless as he looks.”

He pulls up the reins on Boadicea, and slides down off his saddle. His arms are already outstretched to catch you.

“You ain’t worried I’ll fall?” He grins at you, stepping closer to you.

“Ain’t gonna let you fall Princess, now c’mon.”

Lifting one foot out of the stirrup, you awkwardly fall into Arthur’s arms, who catches you before you or your pretty gown could hit the wet sand.

There’s a thick tension between you, unspoken and true. “Thank you for not letting me fall.”

“Ain’t nothin’.” His hands hesitate to release their grip on your waist, and turns to his horse to get his fishing rod, attached was a premium lake lure, meant to catch the largest smallmouth bass in the lake.

Meekly following behind, not owning a rod of your own, you take a seat on one of the nearby rocks and perch, flipping to an open page in your book as he silently fishes, the only sounds you hear are the whizzing of the reeling fishing line, and small splashes of the fish in the water.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, your index finger follows where you’ve read, not to lose your focus on the intriguing plot.

After many pages, Arthur had bagged a few fish, and turns to you.

“You wanna actually learn somethin’ out here or you wanna keep your nose in that silly romance novel?”

Closing the book and shoving it into your satchel. Your boots sink a little into the wet sand as you walk toward him.

“What exactly are you gonna teach me, Mister Morgan?”

He guides you to stand in front of him, and places the fishing rod in your hands. His chest is flush against your back, and arms entangled in your own. “How to fish, woman.”

“Hold it like this, when the fish bites, pull the rod upward like this, toward you, tire it out, when it stops swimmin’ then you can reel him in.” He demonstrates how to flick the line into the water, and reel it in.

“Think you can manage? Ain’t gonna get it right the first time, an’ it takes patience. Which I ain’t so sure you got much of.”

How hard could it be, right?

“Sure, I got this.”

After many, many failed attempts to successfully catch a fish, and many bites, almost all escaping.

Finally, you’ve hooked one. “Good, this is good. Don’t rush it, only reel him in when he stops fightin’ otherwise you’ll snap the line.”

With the instructions ingrained, you fight the fish and when the line stills, you reel the fish in as soon as you can, and sure enough.. it’s a tiny 3 pound smallmouth bass, alas, a fish.

“Arthur, I did it!” The glee in your voice is salient, and Arthur can’t help but share your joy.

“Knew you could do it,” he utters. Out of his own satchel, he pulls out an old hand held camera, with little film from a small job back in Valentine, he quickly snaps an image of you proudly displaying a large smile and a small fish.

Shoving the printed photograph and camera back into his satchel, he helps you to unhook the fish. “Tricky business, an’ if the hooks get stuck in ya finger they’re toilsome to remove.”

When you arrive at camp, Arthur helps you off your horse, before walking off to deliver the full sack of smallmouth bass to Pearson. With a bit of effort, you manage to unsaddle Marbelle, and groom her as you did every evening.

Brushing the mud off, feeding her some oatcakes, and patting her.

By the time you get back to the tent you and Arthur share, he’s in the cot lying down, boots off. Which you would expect to mean that you’re lying on the ground in your sleeping sack, but it seems to be packed away.

“Packed away that sorry sleep sack ‘o yours. Told you I want you off the ground, didn’t I?” He looks up at you and a surge of confusion assails through you.

“So you’re sleepin’ with me, up here.. if ya want.” The offer was low, almost sheepish, but you caught it.

The offer doesn’t go unclaimed as you stand toward him, and he pulls you down next to him on the small bed, leaving no real room between the two of you, forced to share the pillow in a proximity that you could feel his warm breath on your skin and share a nervous gaze.

So much has gone unsaid between the two of you over the past few months. How times were changing.

“M glad you stayed,” he murmurs, hand reaching up to caress your face.

Looking past him, you see the photograph he had taken of you on your earlier escapade, stuck up on a crate beside his bed. Next to the image of a much younger Arthur, Dutch and Hosea, his father, and an old dog of his.

It warms your heart entirely, your hand reaches up to touch his hair, and you ensnare your fingers into the growing brown locks gently.

“I chose you, Arthur, an’ I always will.”

Arthur supposed, for once, he was good enough, for a beautiful woman like you to defy his every expectation of abandonment, of insecurity, to stand by him despite his rugged nature.

“An’ I’ll always choose you too, sweetheart.”

To have you, in the midst of all the chaos he’d been through, was like a haven.

[fizzing-imagines]

Teenage Dirtbag Part 1 | Steve Harrington x Teen Mom! Reader (x Billy Hargrove)

Notes: I love drama atm, I hope you enjoy :) (Pls don't let this flop)

Warnings: Teenage Pregnancy, big hint as a sex scene, swearing, alcohol, smoking

Words: 4.2k

You hated yourself for this stupid crush. Finally, you had everything together between school, your child and your family life, and then this dumb crush came along. It wouldn't even be that bad if it wasn't on the Steve Harrington, the infamous King Steve who's hardcore-crushing on Nancy Wheeler. While you were happy enough that he even took you into his friend group, considered you were a 16 year old teen mom to a 3-year old, you truly didn't need to see him pin over her whenever she was around. Despite them not being an official couple anymore, he wouldn't stop looking after her like a feral dog.

"You don't happen to be free for that project tonight, do you?", Steve asked while walking next to you. You bit your lip while thinking if you could make it work while fishing your car keys out of your bag. "Maybe. My dad's at work, so he can't look after Prissy.", you told him. "I don't know if a two-year old around is the best homework environment." But Steve just shrugged. "I don't mind her around. Besides, I've been annoying you about meeting her for a while now." After unlocking your car door, you threw your school bag in the passenger seat. "Right. Well, if you come at 7:30 she'll be in bed and we have time to do our assignment. But she'll wake up in between at some point." He nodded at your words. "Alright, I'll see you then."

You drove straight home, where your daughter was already waiting at the door. "Hi, mommy!", she squealed as she jumped into your arms. "Hi, baby.", you replied before giving her a kiss on her cheek. "Did you have fun with paw-paw today?" She nodded her head while you carried her inside. "We were in garden, and we picked our tomatoes, and cucumbers, and carrots." Your father greeted you in the hallway with a kiss on your cheek. "We put them in the kitchen, you can use them for dinner later.", he told you. "How was school?" Prissy wiggled from your arms and ran off to the living room. "Good. We got a group project assigned today, so my partner is coming over when Prissy is in bed." Your father looked a bit concerned. "And they know about Prissy?"

"He's my friend, dad, they all know about Prissy. It's not like I could keep her a secret anyways, I'm out with her all the time." He simply smiled at your words and squeezed your shoulder. "I'm just worried, is all." He walked over to the fridge to grab his dinner for work. "Alright, I'm off. See you tomorrow, don't stay up to late." He kissed your cheek once again before walking into the living room to say goodbye to Prissy. "Bye pumpkin, don't cause too much trouble." Your daughter told him goodbye, you heard the door shut and then the tiny footsteps of Prissy running into the kitchen. "Mommy, can we play teaparty?"

You spend a good hour playing teaparty, princess castle and then house before it was time to make dinner. "What do you want, baby?", you asked your daughter while looking through the fridge. "I can make you veggie sticks from the cucumbers and carrots you picked with Paw-Paw. And some tomato soup, maybe?"

"I love tomato soup!", she exclaimed before trying to pull up a chair for her to stand on. For some odd reason, you got a child who loved fruits and veggies. Not that you'd complain, but it wasn't what you heard from other moms. You helped her to get the chair so she could watch you cook.

After dinner, you got your daughter ready for bed. Not only was she a veggie-lover, but also fell asleep quickly. Despite the unfortunate circumstances of her conception, she made it easy for you. At 7:30, she was already fast asleep when you saw Steve pull into your driveway. "Hey.", you said as you opened the door for him. "She's sleeping, so we can't be too loud. But I have some leftovers from dinner if you're hungry." Both of you went into the living room to do the assignments with some veggie sticks and cans of coke.

"God, I hate history.", Steve said as he sat down on your couch. You plopped down next to him while chuckling. "It's not that bad. I mean, the only thing you really have to do is memorise it."

"I know, that's what makes it so awful." Both of you laughed before opening your history books. "At least we can pick one, that's nice.", you mumbled while skipping through the pages. He did the same, but neither of you found a good topic this quickly. "Well, my dad has some books on saints. Maybe that would be an option. How about Joan D'Arc?", you said after a while. "Who's Joan D'Arc?", he asked with a confused look. His question was met with a questioning look. "She was a martyr and is the patron saint of France. Do you actually don't know who she is?"

"Why would I know about a french martyr?"

"Everyone knows Jean D'Arc, Steve."

"I don't."

You rolled your eyes before getting up and grabbing the books from the shelf in the living room. "Sometimes, I can't believe that you're real." You opened the first book from your father extensive collection to give him a quick rundown. He leaned in closer to you so he could properly read, but it made your heart beat faster. Why did you have to have this stupid crush? And why did he have to smell so good, too?

"I think I can work with that.", he finally said. You grabbed a pen and your notebook to start writing. Two hours into mostly working, with some occasional off-rail gossip, you heard tiny footsteps upstairs. "Mommy?", Prissy said from the top of the stairs. Before you could get up, she caught a glimpse of Steve and ran downstairs. "Who are you?", she asked him while crawling on your lap. Your crush looked at you, then back at Prissy before speaking up. "I'm Steve.", he replied awkwardly. "He's my friend from school.", you added. Your daughter crawled off your lap and closer to Steve. "Boyfriend from school?"

"No, just my friend.", you corrected, despite it pulling at your heartstrings in a bad way. "Baby, we're doing homework so I'll bring you back to bed. Say bye-bye to Steve." She waved at him before walking back upstairs with you. Luckily, it took barely 20 minutes before she was fast asleep again.

"She looks just like you.", Steve said as you sat back down. You smiled at his comment. "Thanks. She got the hair colour from her father, but everything else is my carbon copy." The next question was one you have heard many times before. Honestly, you were really annoyed by it at this point, so you just took it away. "Her father's not in the picture. He robbed a gas station and is in jail, so I have full custody. In case you wondered." Steve looked into your eyes with a concerned look, but he had to admit that he did wonder that. "I'm sorry. That's...unfortunate.", he replied. You shrugged your shoulders and leaned back with a can of coke in your hand. "She's surprisingly easy. Unless I don't feel well, then she just copies my feelings like some kind of mindreader." He laughed a bit and leaned back at well. This felt oddly natural to you, and although you didn't know he had the same feeling. "You know, I always wanted kids. Like, six little Harringtons." You laughed at that statement, until you realised that he was 100% serious. "I didn't think I'd ever meet someone as crazy as me.", you admitted. Prissy was a dream child, and the sole reason why you wanted many more kids. "Really?", Steve asked, a bit surprised. Nobody, not even Nancy, wanted so many kids. "Yeah, I mean, Prissy is honestly a poster child. Six, seven, I'll even take eight." Now Steve was the one laughing a bit. "You're actually insane, (Y/N).", he said while leaning foward to take his can of coke. "Oh, by the way, if you don't have any plans for Halloween with Prissy yet, do you maybe wanna go to a party with me?" He said it so casually that his wording confused you. Why with him, not with us? "Aren't you going with Nancy?", you asked, even though you really didn't want to hear anything about Nancy. "It's...I'm trying, but some stuff happened." You sighted at his words, partially because they weren't what you were hoping to hear. "So you'd rather go with a friend?" This time, he sighted. "A friend, a date, who really knows." Your cheeks went red at his comment. Was he really asking you out? "I'll, uh, I'll ask my dad and tell you tomorrow."

He went home soon after. The assignment was off the table at that point anyways, and your head was too full of Steve basically asking you out. You went to sleep, woke up the next morning with your daughter in bed (who always snuck in during the night) and got ready for school. "Prissy, do you want me to do your hair before I go?", you asked her while she was occupied with her stuffed dolphin. She quickly ran into the bathroom where you were putting on a bit of makeup. "Pigtails!", she said while getting on her stepstool. While you were doing her hair, your father walked into the bathroom with his grouchy morning face. "Mornin'", he mumbled while getting his toothbrush. "Good morning.", you greeted him while finishing the first pigtail. "Can I already ask you a question or are you too sleepy?" Prissy giggled at your question a bit, mostly because she knew her Paw-Paw well enough to know that it was a valid question. "If you make me a coffee. What's the question?"

"Since we always only hand out candy on Halloween, could I maybe go out with my friends so you and Prissy can have some Paw-Paw time?" Your wording was chosen carefully to not upset Prissy too much. She'd follow you anywhere if she could, even school, but she also enjoyed spending time with her grandpa. And your father understood your wording. He also understood that you were a teenager who deserved to go out once in a while. "That can be arranged, as long as you're home before I go to work the next day." A wide grin spread across your face once he agreed. "Thank you, dad.", you said while finishing Prissys hair.

You told Steve the very same day, and you were extra giddy once you got ready for the party. Since you got pregnant so young, there has never been a party you could've attended. Sure, you met up with friends once in a while, but it was never for the whole night and surely not with alcohol or smoking. Plus, your crush insinuated that it would be a date. For once you could be a dumb teenager, even if it was just for the night. Still, you chose a very simple costume; a pink dress that ended just above your knees and a tiara. "Mommy, you so pretty!", your daughter said as she spotted you doing your makeup in the bathroom. She's been running around the house all day in Cinderella costume ever since you helped her get dressed after school. "Thank you, baby.", you said with a smile before finishing your lipstick. "Does the princess wanna put the tiara on mommy's head?" With a toothy grin, Prissy took the hair accessory from your hands to put it on you.

"Pretty!", she said once again. With a smile, you gave her a kiss on the cheek and left a lipstick print. "Come here, princess, you gotta look at your face." You picked her up and had her stand on the bathroom counter. "See, mommys lip print is on your cheek." Prissy giggled when she saw her face and turned around to hug you. "Love you, mommy.", she said while burying her fave into your neck. "I love you, too, Prissy.", you said while carrying her out of the bathroom. She remained cuddled up to you, taking in every second of cuddling she could get while you walked downstairs to your father. A wide grin formed on his face as he saw the two of you. "Look at that, both my girls are beautiful princesses.", he said before looking for his camera. Prissy giggled in your arms, now looking up after getting in her cuddles, and laughed even more when she saw her Paw-Paw look for a camera. "I think he wants to take a picture of us, baby.", you told her with a small smile. Ever since she was born, you kept multiple photo albums of her and this one would definetly go in it.

Your father did take a picture, or multiple, of the two of you before getting you and Prissy in his car to drive you to the party. He knew that it would be a house party with alcohol, smoking and teenagers making out but he actually didn't mind. Considering you had a child at 14, he thought you could be stupid for one night. As long as you don't come home pregnant again, which you had do solemnly promise, he didn't mind. "Have fun, sweetheart.", he told you while you got out of the car. "Bye dad.", you replied with a grin, then opened the back door to say goodbye to your daughter. "Bye Prissy, I'll see you tomorrow." You kissed her face multiple times while she giggled. "I love you, baby." You finished with those words before closing the car door and waving after them while walking up the driveway backwards.

It was a bit overwhelming. You weren't an out-of-controll teenager who got pregnant at a party, this was your very first one. Many people from your grade were there, greeting you with surprised tones, as you made your way inside. Just mere seconds after, you wish you didn't. Steve was standing in a corner with Nancy right next to him. Chatting. Laughing. Looking like a couple. But he didn't see you yet, and confrontation did seem hard right now. Ot felt like a knife was stabbed into your heart, and tears build up. How could be basically ask you out on a date and then bring Nancy? And even if they didn't come together, why would he stand so close to her? Your heart was being ripped open and thrown away. Jesus, how could you be so stupid and get your hopes up?

So you made a beeline to the kitchen, where a bowl of punch stood. Judging by everyone around, it must've been spiked. And you didn't care. From stories, drinking made you forget issues so you took the possibility.

"My, my, I think I spotted a little princess.", someone behind you said. As you turned, you spotted the new kid you passed in the hall once or twice. He checked you out from head to toe with a smirk playing on his lips. "And who am I spotting?", you asked with a sly smile. He took your hand and gave it a small kiss. "Billy. Billy Hargrove.", he replied. Billy smelled like cigarettes and beer, which was oddly attractive to you. Also, he was clearly tipsy already. "You here by yourself, princess?" You nodded your head at his question before taking another big sip of the punch. As a response, he put his arm around your shoulders and walked with you. "Come on, if I don't take you with me someone else will." Steve was becoming a memory as Billy walked you outside to the keg stand. "What's your name?", he asked you as he pulled you closer to his body while getting out a pack of cigarettes with his free hand. "(Y/N).", you responded with a grin. He lit his cigarette, blew out the smoke and took it between his fingers. "Beautiful name.", Billy said before offering you his lit cigarette. Why not? You took a long drag but started coughing while blowing out the smoke. He laughed at your antics and took it back. "Never smoked before?" You shook your head at his question while still coughing. Someone handed you a beer to wash it down, and it did actually help. "What's a princess like you doing here by herself anyways?", Billy asked you while you watched someone miserably fail at the keg stand. "Someone's asked me out on a date, but now he's here with his ex.", you responded. He raised an eyebrow and looked deeply offended. "Well, he's an asshole. You're mine now." You blushed at his words, but you really didn't mind his proclamation. Although it was a drunken one. It felt good, no matter the circumstances. Again, someone failed the keg stand as you watched. "I wanna try it.", you proclaimed loudly. Two cups of spiked punch and a bit of beer was already getting to your head, most likely because you never drank before. "Alright princess, let me help you up.", he said while getting another guy to help you stand upright. You giggled before someone put the nozzle between your lips. As much as Billy wanted to focus on you chugging, he couldn't help but look at your ass that was fully presented due to your skirt not being able to hide anything anymore. Plus, you felt your tiara slip from your head as soon as you did the handstand. "One, two, three.", people around you started counting loudly as you kept chugging. Ten was the goal in your head, which wouldn't be bad for your first. "Four, Five, Six.", the others continued. While beer wasn't your thing as you realised, it felt good to have no worries for one night. And this was more fun than you've expected. "Seven, eight, nine." You felt your arms get wobbly, which caused you to get down at 11. People around you cheered, Billy put his arm back around you and took a drag from someone elses cigarette before announcing that he'd go for it as well. "This one's for you, princess.", he said while putting the tiara back on your head. You don't know why he chose to dote over you right now, but it's not like you minded. Most likely, he was trying to get lucky at the end of the night. Which you wouldn't mind, either.

Billy lasted until 22 before he got down. "Billy's our new keg king!", someone screamed while others started chanting his name. "C'mere.", he said while putting his arm around your shoulders again and taking you with him. Someone handed him a lit cigarette again, while a girl gave you a red cup that smelled like hard liquor. Billy walked through the house with you, following two guys who kept yelling that they had a new keg king. You were stupidly grinning until both of you were dragged to Steve and Nancy. "We've got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington.", one of the guys yelled. Steve took off his sunglasses to take a look at Billy, before looking over at you with a confused expression. Meanwhile, Nancy walked off into the kitchen. "What are you doing here?", he asked you while noticing Billy's arm around you. It pulled on his heartstrings a bit. "You asked me to come here, as a date.", you reminded him. "But since you'd rather take fancy Nancy, I found someone else." The grin on your face could be described as nothing but shiteating cheeky. "I didn't think you'd come.", he admitted. Billy laughed at that. "Good thing you ditched here, she's mine now.", he said before walking off with you.

Billy stayed with you for the entire party. At some point, both of you were making out outside. Right now, the sting of Steve standing you up was completely gone and for once you felt like you were actually just a 17-year old teenager. "Come on, let's take this party somewhere else.", he said before dragging you to the bathroom. Just as you rounded the corner, Steve came out with a big slam of the door. Both of you rushed by him and went in the bathroom, where you found Nancy. "Get out.", you said to her. She looked over at you, clearly just as drunk as you were, with a death stare. "You're not scary, Nancy. Get the fuck out." After she still didn't move, you grabbed her by the arm and pushed her outside the bathroom before locking the door. "You've got some fire in you.", Billy said before picking you up and setting you down on the dirty bathroom counter. Both of you kept making out with no regards of anyone knocking at the door. Before you knew it, your dress was off. When he went down to get between your legs, Billy noticed the c-section scar running across your lower abdomen. He looked up at you, but you took the question from Billy's mouth. "I had a c-section at 14.", you slurred. You expected many reactions from him, mostly him leaving you in the bathroom, but he just smirked and said: "I always wanted to fuck a mom."

You don't remember how you made it home. But you woke up in your own bed in the morning, not with Prissy next to you, with a pounding headache. As soon as you moved just a bit, you were already running to the bathroom to throw up. Why do people enjoy drinking if this is the outcome? "Hungover?", your dad teased while leaning against the doorframe. "It's gonna be fine. I'll make you fatty food and get you some aspirin." He handed you some toilet paper to whipe your mouth with, which you gladly took. "Where's Prissy?", you asked once you flushed the toilet. "I let her stay up a bit longer than usual, so she's still asleep." You nodded before he left to go downstairs. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you noticed all of the hickeys on your neck. "Fucking hell.", you mumbled before getting back into your room. Grey sweatpants and a turtleneck sweater seemed like the best option right now. Soon enough, you smelled bacon and walked downstairs. "Did you have fun, at least?", you dad asked while you sat down on the kitchen island. He handed you a glass with some asprin in it. "It was good. I met a new student from my grade, he moved here from California." Your dad looked up from the pan. "Billy? Yeah, he brought you here last night. Seems like a nice kid." Well, that mystery was solved at least. "Yeah, he's cool."

Your father made you bacon, eggs and oatmeal with some orange juice. While he set some aside for Prissy, you ate it up like you haven't eaten in weeks. "Glad you had fun, sweetheart. But you gotta recover until 3, I still have work." You nodded your head at his words. "Is it morally wrong to have a lazy day with your child? I don't think I can go to the playground today." He laughed a bit at your question. "I doubt it. Maybe go in the garden at some point, though." A smile played on your lips at his words. "I can manage that." He turned to leave the kitchen, but not without saying: "And make up a good excuse for Prissy when she sees those hickeys."

It was four and you laid on the couch with Prissy in your arms, watching the Cinderella movie. She was her favourite princess and picked the movie all by herself. You had put some cut up fruit and juice on the table for the two of you to snack on. While Cinderella was trying on the glass shoe, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it, baby.", you said while getting off the couch and slouched to the door. It greatly displeased you once you opened it, because Steve was standing on the other side.

"What?", you asked in an annoyed tone. He was honestly the last person you wanted to see. "(Y/N), I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, or at least cancelled.", he said with a look of desperation. You scoffed at his half-assed apology. "I'm not going to tell you what I actually think, Steve, because my child is in the next room.", you started. "But you can go fuck yourself. If Nancy broke up with you, because I did see her leave with Jonathan, that doesn't mean you get to jump to the next best girl." He ran a hand through his hair and sighted. "It's not like that, (Y/N), please. I...I do like you." His sudden confession didn't make you as happy as it should've. Sure, you still liked him because otherwise it wouldn't hurt so much but you were too angry at him. "I don't care, Steve. You didn't care about my feelings either."

"Mommy, they gonna kiss!", you toddler shouted from the living room. "Have a good day, Steve.", you said before shutting the door. "What, they're gonna kiss?", you said with a false grin while walking into the living room. "There's no way that they're gonna kiss!" You started tickling her stomach and kissing her face while she laughed underneath you.

After all, that she loved you was all that mattered in the end.