#like no i don't hate my birthday i hate the way my family celebrates it

[lavender---sunshine]

Ah

[lunarsapphism]

nothing like celebrating your dads birthday in late march and being weirdly upset but not knowing why and then realizing its because your bio dad's birthday is on april 2nd and it took you almost ten years to realize that their birthdays have only been one week apart this whole time

[french-goodbye]

please never fall in love again

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: dating steve harrington is hard, especially when girls keep hitting on him.

notes: i wrote this a while ago but eventually forgot about it in the midst of all my wips lol. title from the song please never fall in love again by ollie mn.

you stare at the back of your boyfriend's head with narrowed eyes and your chin resting on your hands, an anger you know you shouldn't be feeling boiling beneath the surface of your skin. he, of course is none the wiser, as he is to most things, just chatting with eddie completely carefree by the bar.

you love steve harrigton, you really do. you think you fell in love with him on your first date and never really fell out of it. you've already planned your whole life with him, from getting married and having kids to growing old with him and sitting side by side on a wrap around porch. he's sweet, kind, he's great with kids and it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes and great in bed.

his biggest flaw, however, is not exactly his fault. the worst thing about dating steve harrigton is the amount of women who hit on him on a daily basis. whether it's old ladies at the grocery store telling him he looks like their dead husbands or bored soccer moms looking for a little thrill or, the worst of all, the girls your age who slip him their phone number in old receipts over the counter at family video. these women are always there, like blood sniffing sharks, somehow finding a way to make a suggestive comment or a flirty joke.

most of the time, it doesn't really bother you even when it does happen in front of you. steve's the kind of guy who'd never cheat on you, simply because of who he is and how obsessed with you he is. sometimes, however, they can get a little too close and personal and you can't help but wish steve was a little less attractive. just a little.

and it's not that you don't trust him either, he's always quick and firm to shut them down when it happens. it's that they're the ones you don't trust, the girls with big permed blonde hair and fake tans and bright pink lipstick who look at you disdainfully when they realize you're together because they can barely take their eyes off of him for long enough to notice you're standing right next to him.

you're out at a bar celebrating jonathan's birthday when it happens this time, steve and eddie having offered to get everyone another round, the two of them leaning against the bar talking while they wait when a girl from the booth in the corner approaches them. she's clearly a little bit more than tipsy and obviously focused on steve as she talks to them, avidly taking him in and resting her hand on his forearm. he doesn't even blink, just smoothly leans away from her and tells her something that makes her leave as fast as she arrived.

you can barely hear nancy as she complains about her male coworkers on her summer job, as you heatedly stare at his stupidly nice hair and broad shoulders as your boyfriend laughs at something eddie said, hand scratching his neck. you're still watching him with scrunched eyebrows and a sour expression when you feel robin poking your cheek, making you look at her and gently slap her hand away.

"why are you poking me?"

"why are you staring at steve like he kicked your puppy?" she asks, frowning, looking back and forth between the two of you like a tennis match.

"i'm not" she gives you a flat look with raised brows. "fine," you huff. "why do women always hit on him? we can't take him anywhere"

"no idea, you tell me"

"urgh" you groan, throwing your arms around her and resting your head on her shoulder. "god, i hate men"

"amen sister" you hang onto her for a second as she takes a noisy sip of her empty drink through her straw and taps your back sympathetically a few times before gently pushing you away as steve and eddie walk back to your table, drinks in hands and still chatting distractedly.

she softly claps her hands, enthusiastically and telling you a quiet "yay" as she turns back to nancy and jonathan, as the two argue wether or not their coworkers are sexist (they totally are).

you're still laughing at robin's drunken antics when steve comes to your side again and sets your new drink on the table in front of you, resting his hand on your lower back. you let him but when he leans over you to press a kiss to your hair, you promptly dodge away from him and out of his reach. from the corner of your eye, you can see how he frowns at that and silently watches you for a second as you pretend to listen to what nancy says.

his hand on your lower back climbs all the way up to the back of your neck so he turn your head his away, forcing you to look at his big brown eyes staring at you like you just kicked his puppy and you almost feel guilty. almost.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

you shrug, "nothing's wrong."

"are you mad at me or something?"

"no" you slowly shake your head in negative, shrugging.

"gimme a kiss then" he rests one of his hands on your face tilting your head his way while the other on your neck guides your face to his. you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek and look away, accidentally making eye contact with the girl who just hit on him. she's watching the two of you, quickly looking away when she notices she was caught staring.

"you saw that, huh" he tells you, hands settling on your waist instead so he can look at you.

"hard not to" you huff, picking invisible lint from your pants.

"then you know nothing happened"

"of course i know that, i trust you" you complain as you roll your eyes and gesticulate to show your frustration "but i-it just makes so insanely angry when they touch you like that, like they have any right to-" you stop your ranting mid sentence when you realize the look on his face. "what? why are you looking at me like that?"

"nothing" he clears his throat and looks down to uselessly smooth non existing wrinkles on your top. you watch him though narrowed eyes and gasp when it hits you, making him look at you again. "what?"

"you like it when i'm jealous" you accuse, lightly poking his chest.

"no, i don't"

"yes, you do. i can't believe i never noticed it before" you huff an incredulous laugh, remembering all the times girls hit on him in front of you and he said nothing but affirmations of how much he's in love with you and how he could never want somebody else, acting more attentive and affectionate than usual later, pressing you against his body and kissing kissing kissing you until he was the only thing on your mind.

"okay, it's not what you're thinking" he replies running a hand through his hair nervously.

"what am i thinking, harrington?" you ask, lifting one eyebrow as a smirk makes it's way to your lips.

"it's not an ego thing" you laugh softly at him, letting your fingers run soothingly through the hair at the nape of his neck, finally giving into the temptation to get your hands on him. "it's just- i like knowing how much you want me just for yourself, how much you care about me."

you stare at him for a moment, taking in his sincere brown eyes and his fluffy hair, feeling impossibly endeared by the boy in front of you. he fidgets under your stare, so you smooth your hands down his shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath his shirt.

"well, i do care... a lot" you tell him, pretending to be coy and batting your eyelashes at him. "but it's not like i blame her"

"what?" he looks at you blankly, confused.

"i mean, look at you" you pull him closer and then closer still, still smirking. "those nice brown eyes, the pretty hair, those shoulders... nevermind how much of a charmer you are. damn harrington, no wonder women keep throwing themselves at you."

"babe" he groans embarrassedly, "they're not throwing themselves-" he dramatically drops his forehead on your shoulder making you laugh at his discomfort, letting brown strands of hair slip through your fingers as you comfortingly pet his hair and he squeezes your waist in reprimand.

"it's true!"

he pulls you closer by the grip he has on your waist and burrows his face in the crook of your neck in lieu of an answer. you let him have it even though you would like to see his face and the way his blush is probably spreading from his cheek to his neck and rest your chin into his shoulder as you hug him.

"but one of these days i'll have to step in and defend your honor"

"please don't" he pulls away and cups your neck, thumbs brushing your cheek and staring at you disapprovingly, his eyelashes touching at the corners, the hint of a smile still on his face.

"i don't know, maybe i'll have to challenge them to a duel to the death" you disagree and look at him from under your eyelashes. he gives you an affectionate look that'd make you nauseous were it not directed at you and presses a long lingering kiss to your lips.

"shut up" he whispers against your lips. you gladly do, at least until eddie and robin start throwing balled up paper napkins at your head. it's worth it though.

[thought--bubble]

When he Breaks

Modern Aemond X (ex GF) reader

Word Count: 3,098

Note* This was written for @targaryen-dynasty's 3K celebration! (Congratulations my love you deserve it all!)

Modern Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Dividers and banners by @arcielee

Warnings:Toxic relationship dynamics, alcohol use, swearing, smut (fingering female receiving)

Four months should have been enough time. Should have been enough time to completely move on from the two-year whirlwind that was your relationship with the ever-elusive Aemond Targaryen.

Your relationship with Aemond Targaryen was difficult to put it mildly. You had tried. Really tried to make it work, but like with most things, there comes a time when things have simply run their course.

Aemond could be sweet, yet mostly, he was cold, closed off, and angry.

Aemond does not simply feel angry. He embodies anger. With each step he takes, he carries it around with him, like a festering wound he refuses to treat lest he forget the injustices he has suffered.

The smallest things could set him off, a harmless joke from his brother or his nephew simply breathing the same air.

the issue between him and his nephew, Luke, was simple enough to understand. You always thought it so tragic how an unfortunate childhood accident could tear a family apart at the seams. The accident had left Aemond blind in one eye, and as far as Aemond saw it, no one had ever paid for it. No one ever suffered for it, no one but Aemond that is.

His hate and anger ruled his life. It seeped into every facet of his being. Even being his girlfriend was not a shield from his rage.

This anger would come to a head when he ruined his father's birthday celebration, potentially the last one his sick ailing father would have. When he stood up and gave a toast insulting his nephews and calling his sister a whore, albeit using a roundabout way to say it. The ensuing physical altercation between Aemond and his other nephew, Jace, had been the final straw for you. No more would you live with this angry man. This powder keg that is just waiting to explode, this dragon grinding his jaw and salivating at any chance to tear apart those he saw as his enemies.

So, when you showed up for Helaena's birthday, a house party, Aegon is throwing. You were concerned about seeing Aemond for the first time since your split. You were over him. At least that's what you told yourself, and you believed it.

Until you walked in to see him, sitting on the sofa, cigarette in hand, smile on his face, and an arm around Floris' shoulders.

Floris Baratheon, a sweet little thing. Not a cruel bone in her body. The absolute visceral response you had to the scene was unexpected, yet you made sure to control your facial expression. You could not let him see you vulnerable or weak.

Yes, you were done with Aemond. You no longer wanted Aemond, but you did not approve of him to move on. To have someone else.

As you watch him sitting with Floris from across the crowded room of Aegon's flat, you feel your anger bubbling up. Four months, and he was already flirting about with a simpleton like Floris Baratheon? Had you meant so little to him?

You jump slightly as Helaena sneaks up next to you as you lean against the breakfast bar, drink in hand.

Helaena has always had this uncanny ability to seemingly pop up out of nowhere, with words of wisdom or nonsense. It truly was luck of the draw.

"There is no need to fight for what you don't want, just because someone else may want it." She muses thoughtfully.

"I'm not fighting for anything," you snap back. "She wants to deal with all of that. She's welcome to him."

"Hmmm," the light hum of Helaena's voice, usually a soothing sound, grates on your nerves.

"The two of you are more alike than either of you realize."

Your head instantly whips to the side, your eyes narrowed. "We are nothing alike," you hiss through gritted teeth.

Helaena simply hums in response before grabbing herself a wine cooler off the counter. "I hope you find some way to enjoy the evening."

"Hey," you call out behind her as she starts to walk away.

She turns and looks at you, with nothing but softness in her lavender eyes.

"Happy Birthday" You give her a weak smile.

"It will be entertaining, at least," she says dreamily before gliding off to welcome more of her friends who had just arrived.

With Helaena's final words lingering in your head, you knock back the drink in your hand and place the empty cup back on the counter.

Revenge is Aemond's favorite pastime. An obsession you have berated him for time and time again, yet here you stand, watching his faux gentleness that he seems intent on displaying for the fawn of a girl that sits beside him and all you can feel is the hunger inside you, willing you to take a bite out of him, sating that need for revenge of your own.

Aemond looks over at you briefly before his eye flickers back to Floris, carrying on their quiet conversation, which, from what you could gather, looked more like Floris speaking incessantly and Aemond, with his false patience, listening intently, or at least pretending to.

"What are ya drinking ya tart!" Aegon slurs as he leans over the counter, mixing himself another drink.

"Had a whiskey, looking for something else, though." You let your words trail off as your eyes search the countertop.

When you finally find the bowl of cherries, you turn to Aegon and bat your lashes. "Make me a tart cherry? You were always the best at making them. " You offer him a sweet smile as you lean over the counter. The short black dress you have on hardly concealing your rear.

"Ahh! A tart for a tart!" Aegon chuckles as he starts to make the drink, spilling liqueur all about the countertop.

You roll your eyes, careful not to let Aegon see. He's an idiot, but tonight, you will make him a useful idiot because leading Aegon is as simple as being kind for a fleeting moment.

"I may just be a tart tonight," you chuckle suggestively, taking the drink from Aegon's hand, slowly sipping at the contents. You can question a lot of things about Aegon. Pretty much everything about Aegon. But not his ability to make a strong drink.

"Let's sit. Catch up. We haven't spoken in quite some time. " You take Aegon by the hand and drag him to the sofa situated directly across from Aemond and Floris before Aegon has any chance to object.

"Right! OK then!" Aegon plops down on the sofa, his drink sloshing over the sides of his cup.

You slowly lower yourself down beside him, careful to make sure your dress rides up your thigh just enough so that the thickest part of your thigh is exposed to both Aegon and Aemond's lecherous glares.

"So Aegon," you place your hand on his thigh, gently running your hand up and down in a soothing motion. "How have you been?"

Aegon doesn't even respond before you feel the burn of Aemond's steely eye burrowing into the side of your face.

Aegon looks down at your hand on his thigh briefly before a lazy smile spreads across his face. "Good, grand actually," he answers as he scoots closer to you.

This is going to be easier than you thought. You could always count on Aegon and his never-quenched thirst for physical affection.

When Aegon lowers his voice to a seductive growl as he explains what he has been up to since the last time you spoke, you tune him out.

Your main concern was your body movements, now that you know Aemond's eye is on you. He is a complex man yet, still just a man.

You cross one leg over the other, your short dress riding up just a tad bit higher. You work hard to conceal the grin that fights to spread across your face as you can hear Aemond across from you uncomfortably shifting in his seat.

"Hmmm," you feign interest as Aegon goes on about passing all of his classes at uni this semester. Something he is most proud of given the unlikelihood of such a feat.

You pluck one of the cherries floating around your drink and slide it slowly past your lips and suck on it. You have yet to spare Aemond a single glance but are fully aware that his eye hasn't left you since you sat down.

"You ummm really like that cherry?" Aegon asks with a mixture of amusement and lust.

"I do," you answer, your voice soft and slow.

"Are you gonna ummm... eat it? Or just uhhh suck on it?" Aegon shifts even closer with this question, leaving almost no space between you.

"It's so sweet.... and a bit tart.... I want to enjoy it fully before I toss it away" You pull the cherry part way from your mouth, circling the small fruit with your tongue before biting through it with your front teeth, the juices dripping down your lip to your chin.

"Fuuuuck," Aegon whispers, his eyes trained on the trail of cherry juice as it reaches your chin.

"Whoops" You collect the juice around your mouth with your fingertip before popping it in your mouth and sucking the juice off.

You can hear Floris babbling about something and find joy in the fact that Aemond has seemed to have stopped responding to her.

Aegon brings his hand to your thigh, squeezing at the flesh there.

"Wanna go outside? Smoke a fag? Just... you and me?"

You go to respond but are cut off by Aemond, who is suddenly choking on his drink loudly.

You finally look over at him, his purple eye a ring of fire. There's all that rage, all that anger, what had driven you away seemed so pretty now.

"Are you alright?" You ask with a tone that's smooth like butter.

Aegon laughs loudly. "Seems my brother has chosen a drink that is too strong for him. This is something he does often. Here Aemond, give me your drink. " Aegon holds his hand out to Aemond. "I will drink it; I am typically able to handle the things thar are too tough for you." Aegon's eyes flit to you on his last word, and you smile at him.

"Is that so? That's a good thing to know." You stand up slowly, placing your nearly empty cup down on the coffee table. "I'm going to run to the rest room and then I'll meet you outside for that fag."

"Smashing" Aegon rises from his seat as you turn your back and walk off toward the restroom, each step calculated to make sure you sway your hips just the way you know Aemond likes it.

When you're done in the bathroom, you open the door to make your way outside, but instead of the empty hallway you expected, Aemond is leaning in the doorway. His shoulder pressed against the wood frame, his blonde bangs covering his bad eye.

"Having a laugh, are ya?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"A laugh?" You feign complete ignorance. "Sure, I've had a laugh or two. It's been a lovely evening. " You flash him a sweet smile and then move to the side, attempting to walk around him.

"A lovely evening?" He places his hand on your chest, pushing you backward into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"A lovely evening of flirting with my whore of a brother?" His voice is calm, not at all in sync with the tension of his shoulders as he towers over you.

"Well, that is an unkind thing to say. I was merely catching up with a friend." You push his arm from your chest, a movement with which he does not fight. "Who is currently waiting on me outside, so if you don't mind ..."

You again move to walk around him.

"I do, in fact, mind. Do you think this is a game? To tease me all night while using my idiot brother as a pawn?" He snarls, bringing his hands to your waist, his digits clenching around you.

"I have not teased you," you smirk at him. "If you would like me to tease you.  ..." You stand on your tippy toes, bringing your lips to the shell of his ear. "I can certainly do that."

You watch with fascination as his skin prickles and his grip around your waist tightens. "Do not"

You smile knowing you have him now, that cold stoic man that is Aemond Targaryen is putty in your hands, and it hardly took any work at all.

You bring your lips to the softness of his neck, just close enough so that your warm breath skates across his skin. "Do not? Oh, Aemond, you sound so serious when you say it like that."

His breath hitches as you chuckle, your hands sliding under his shirt, your fingertips dancing across his toned stomach.

"You're playing a dangerous game, love," he hisses, his grip on your sides growing tighter, creating a pleasant ache.

"My favorite type of game." You run the tip of your nose up the side of his neck while your hands find purchase on the buttons of his expensive button-down shirt.

"Did I make you angry, my darling?" You ask, a teasing lilt to your tone as you slowly pop out button after button.

A sound comes from his chest, a sound somewhere between a growl and a chuckle, a sound that is completely Aemond. "And why should I be angry? Hmm?"

As you pop out the final button on his shirt, his hand slides into the base of your hair, gripping tight and pulling your head back. "A whore will do as a whore will do, there is nothing to be gained by being angry about it."

"A whore? Is that how you think of me now? A few simple months is all it took for your blood to turn to bile in my presence as well?"

You don't fight his grip. In fact, you crave it. He pushes you up against the sink vanity, lifting you up by your thigh, his other hand never leaving your hair.

"You left me, you betrayed me, like they all do," he nips along your jawline while grinding his hardness up against your heat.

"I left. I did not betray" you argue between pants. The friction of Aemond's movements against your heat, building a pressure in your lower stomach, a fire that gets slightly bigger with each rut.

"Same thing," he reaches under your dress, running his fingers over the damp cloth that is the only thing keeping his fingers from your heated flesh. "You don't want me, but you melt in my hands, like a dirty little whore."

A smile crosses your face, and you close your eyes as he slips his fingers underneath the flimsy cloth of your thong. Circling your nub with quick aggressive strokes.

"So quiet now? Where is that girl I know with the big mouth, hmm?"

You moan loudly as he slips two fingers into your slick entrance.

"Ahhh, there she is," Aemond begins rutting his fingers into you at a quick and brutal pace.

You try to lower your head back down. The need to feel his lips on yours feels like a burning ache.

"Oh no. You don't get to kiss me. No." He brings his thumb to your engorged clit while his fingers continue their relentless pace.

"Whores don't kiss me. They cum on my fingers, when I say so." He growls as he nibbles down the side of your throat, his hand not slowing its pace.

The heat that has been building in your stomach becomes all consuming, your legs involuntarily stretch further apart, and your mouth hangs open wide. "Aemond, Aemond," you pant, each stroke of his fingers bringing you closer and closer to that blissful edge.

"Begging for me again, what a beautiful sound. Cum for me little slut. Cum for me now." He nips on your ear and pushes his thumb down on your clit while continuing to rub his small, rough circles.

Your eyes remain on the bathroom ceiling as the mix of pleasure, heat, and even a little pain continue to rise rapidly with each of Aemond's movements.

"That's fuck... that's it" you dig your fingernails into the skin of his back as you are hit with an overwhelming wave of pleasure, numbness temporarily traveling from your toes and up your legs as if the only feeling your body was capable of registering at this time was this feeling.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean, his one eye watching you intently as you finish riding out your high.

Without a word, he begins to button his shirt back up.

"So that's it then?" You ask frustrated at his cool and cold demeanor.

"Well, Floris is back on the sofa waiting for me and Aegon is waiting on you for that fag which...." he looks you up and down, a smug smile creeping onto his face " I assume you really do need now...."

The feeling of pleasure that had been swirling around your body is instantly replaced with a red-hot rage. "So, you return to Floris, and I return to Aegon?" You hop down from the vanity hastily fixing your clothes and patting down your hair.

You push past him, wrenching the bathroom door open to see Aegon in the hallway.

"Oh, sod off!" Aegon huffs in annoyance. "I knew you were using me to make him jealous. I just hoped he wouldn't go all Aemond on you before I actually got something out of it." He starts to stumble back down the hallway.

"Aegon, wait!" You begin to chase after him when Aemond grips your shoulder.

"Looks like your plans have fallen through."

You quickly shift out of his grasp. "Easy enough to make new plans."

"Go outside. Have your fag and I'll be there in 10 minutes" he says calmly walking past you back toward the living room.

"What?" You call out to his retreating form.

"I have to at least let Floris know I'm leaving. It's the polite thing to do after all."

"Leaving?" You ask incredulously.

Aemond sighs, turning back to look at you. "Yes, leaving. There is a heavier punishment you must suffer for your betrayal.... and I can't very well inflict that upon you in a fucking bathroom."

He turns away from you again, walking quickly. "Ten minutes, love. Give me ten minutes"

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[harrysfolklore]

yes for tom!! (bday anon!!)

first of all HAPPY BIRTHDAYY this is short but i didn’t want to leave you without your bday blurb 🥹 hope u guys like it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

gifs by @ssoveia <33

Birthdays were never your thing.

Surely growing up you had a lot of good memories when it came to celebrating your birthday, but as you grew older you forgot the magic behind celebrating your birthday.

However, that changed when you started dating Tom two years ago, he always made sure to make your day special and make you feel loved and celebrated.

In your first year together he threw you a big party in a rooftop in New York City, getting all of your friends and close family together. For your second, you celebrated in a more intimate way with a small trip to Greece.

However, this year you didn’t have any expectations on how would you celebrate your day, since Tom’s schedule was beyond busy with the press, promo and premieres of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.

You were extremely proud of him and everything he was achieving, so you wouldn’t blame him if he happened to forget your birthday, he was doing what he loved the most and that was enough to make you the happiest ever.

As the morning of your birthday approached, you woke up feeling a bit disappointed, knowing Tom had to leave early for the some promo shoot for the movie. The empty side of the bed only echoed his absence.

However, when you when you headed the stairs, a full breakfast and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers greeted you, accompanied by a note in Tom's handwriting.

"Happy Birthday, my love. I'm sorry I had to rush off. I hope this brightens your morning a bit. We'll celebrate tonight. Love you x . - Tom."

Just as you were admiring the bouquet, your phone ringed with an incoming video call from Tom.

"Hey, birthday girl!" Tom's face beamed through the screen. "How's your day been so far?”

"It's been good, actually," you smiled fondly at him, "Breakfast and the flowers were such a lovely start"

"Look, I'm really sorry I couldn't be there to say Happy Birthday first thing in the morning," his voice sounded distressed and you couldn't help but feel for him, "I'll make it up for you tonight, I promise."

"Don't worry about it, baby. I completely understand. I know how crazy your schedule is right now," you assured him, "You're doing what you love the most and I'm so proud of you for that."

"Yeah, it's been non-stop. But that I hate that it's keeping me from being there for you on your special day."

"Honestly, you being so busy doesn't take away from the fact that you've made it special already," you shrugged, smiling at him, "And I know whatever you have planned for tonight will be just amazing, so stop being so hard on yourself!"

"About that," he smirked before continuing, "Make sure to be ready at 7. I'll pick you up."

"Whatever you say, handsome," you rolled your eyes with affection, "As long as I would love to stay here, I know you have to go back to work."

"Shit, I do," he said realizing that crew members were already looking for him, "Happy Birthday again, my love. You're amazing."

//

ending kinda sucked lmao i hope u like this bday anon happy bday

[httpiastri]

more than enough – jmm21

you hate your birthday, but pepe is determined to change your mind.

genre: fluff/a little angsty/comfort

pairing: reader x college!pepe marti, ft christian mansell and sebastian montoya

warnings: uhhh anxiety and such ?? idk

word count: 2.6k

author's note: just like last year, this is merely a very self-indulgent birthday gift to myself (and a bit of a late birthday gift for a friend on here who confided in me about not liking their birthday either), so sorry if you don't relate but i needed to write this for myself despite how painful it was. not happy with how it turned out but, i had to get it out of my system. <3 (also not proofread because i will freak out likely aaaaa)

this is mostly a standalone fic but ig it kinda works as college!pepe so i put that there. i got this idea at my mom's birthday back in march but never actually wrote it until this last week... also loosely based on a tiktok that really spoke to me.

also! this doesn't really work with the headcanon of pepe, seb and chris all sharing an apartment, but i wanted it this way. i also wasn't comfortable including gaby or hermes, so i used the names nora and emma for seb's and chris's respective gfs. :)

"why didn't you tell me your birthday is next week?"

the question is innocent enough, only borderline accusing, but something tightens in your stomach nonetheless. you don't look up from the pot in your hand, however, instead continuing to scrub it with your dishbrush like it's no big deal. "who told you that?"

pepe chuckles as he makes his way over to your side, leaning against the counter as he looks at you. "emma," he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest. "going to answer my question now?"

"i must've forgotten to tell you."

"oh, come on..." your boyfriend shakes his head. "is there a reason i wasn't allowed to know? did i do something? do you not trust me? am i-"

"pepe," you say, his name followed by a sigh as you look over to him in hopes of stopping his rambling. "it's nothing personal."

"what is it, then?" he presses, eyes following your hands as they begin to rinse the pot he'd cooked your pasta in just a couple hours ago. "why don't you want to tell me?"

you take a deep breath, shrugging your shoulders before turning off the tap. "i just... i'm not a big fan of my birthday."

the biggest understatement of the year.

you hate your birthday.

for a number of reasons, really. some to do with your family and childhood; many to do with your own inner thoughts and feelings.

you hate how it reminds you of every bad birthday you had as a kid. you hate how it makes you hopeful that people will remember and congratulate you, because you hate how painful it is when they don't. you hate how you always get reminded of how little people seem to care, and how they always prioritize themselves even on what's supposed to be your day.

it's too much of a mess to explain to him right now – maybe, hopefully, one day you'll have the energy and courage to go through it all.

you hadn't forgotten to tell pepe; you had just been silently hoping he wouldn't address it, and that everyone else would forget, too. but apparently, you have a snitch in your friend group. "what do you mean?" pepe asks.

"i'd much rather not celebrate it." you place the pot on the drying rack, wiping your hands on your towel hanging by the stove before turning to him. "a lot of stuff regarding my birthday just makes me really upset. if i could, i'd just... make it disappear, honestly."

your eyes flicker to the floor, fingers nervously fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. he can tell you don't want to get into it, and he won't push you. instead, he opens his arms wide, taking a step forward. you accept the offer instantly, arms wrapping around his waist as he pulls you close.

the air in your little dorm room isn't as thick as you had expected it to be when telling him all of this – but at the same time, you aren't surprised. pepe has always had a way of grounding you, making everything seem a bit easier. "i can't make it completely disappear, i think," he says, placing his chin on top of your head. "but i can pretend for you."

you hum contently, letting your eyes close for a few moments. "that would be great."

he remains quiet for a couple of seconds, but then he can't stop himself from talking again. "do you really not want anything? no party? you threw me that party for my birthday, i'd feel guilty not doing anything back."

"i did it because you had a fun time and you like those things, and because i enjoyed planning it. but i was really hoping i could skip all that," you answer, pulling away ever so slightly to look up at him with a sheepish expression. "i would honestly rather have dinner with you, emma, nora, sebas, chris... maybe get some takeout from that new indian place down the road?"

to pepe's ears, you sound more than just a tiny bit crazy – but your being so different from him is one of the things that attracted him in the first place. he nods, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "whatever you say, love."

"where did your girl go?" emma asks the second pepe slumps into a free seat by the cafeteria table.

your boyfriend shoots a glance over his shoulder back to the serving line before setting his plate down. "they were out of rice so she's just waiting for a new batch," he says with a shrug.

"okay then, let's be quick before she gets here," emma speaks up again. "what are we doing for her birthday? it's just a few days away, but i think we can pull something off."

"me and seb were talking about throwing her a surprise party," nora says, looking over at sebastian who's nodding excitedly.

pepe, however, lets out a dismissive sound and swats the air with his hand. "no, forget about that," he says, stuffing a spoonful of pasta into his mouth. "she doesn't want any of that."

nora snorts. "what? of course she does."

"you know, pepe," emma counters, eyebrows raised at the spaniard. "every girl will tell you that she doesn't want a surprise party. don't bother, i don't care, you don't have to do all that for me! but in reality, we're all secretly craving it."

pepe considers her words for a few moments; maybe there is some truth in them after all. maybe all you did was try to act modest, to put the idea in his head so he would make the right choice.

but you weren't the one to bring up the subject – he was. he remembers clearly how you were doing your very best to avoid talking about your birthday at all, and the memory of how tough of a subject it seemed like to you is still etched into his mind. he thinks you were so brave to confide in him like that, and so he needs to stand up for you. he can't dishonor your trust.

"trust me, guys. she really doesn't want it." he ignores the groans of the people around him, taking a few sips of his water before continuing. "can't we all just grab some dinner on saturday instead? maybe that new indian place?"

"works for me," christian joins in. "how about presents, then?"

"right, are we all buying something together, or separate gifts?" emma fills in.

pepe shakes his head yet again. "i don't think she wants that, either." his words are followed by a long silence, which makes him unable to hold back a chuckle. "just paying for the food should be enough."

nora sighs dramatically, the palms of her hands pressing into the sides of her face. "and i'm supposed to just trust you, huh?" she asks and pepe merely shrugs, focusing back on his food. "hope you're not messing with us here, marti."

"i have no idea what he said, but he usually is," your voice spreads through the group as you finally take a seat at the table. "fill me in and i'll help you decide if he's just being annoying."

"i was just telling them about what mr. peterson said yesterday," pepe says quickly. "about what he'll do to everyone who fails the exam."

you throw your head back laughing, nodding instantly. "oh my god, that was hilarious. so, it started with someone on the front row asking about..."

pepe loves birthdays. his own, too, but mostly he finds himself looking forward to his friends' birthdays and longing to celebrate the important people in his life. he loves picking out gifts, planning celebrations, and making sure everything is perfect. it just comes naturally for him to be caring and detailed in that way.

but while pepe eagerly awaits your birthday, you couldn't even come close to feeling the same way.

most years, you spend the weeks leading up to your birthday dreading it, and the day of your birthday crying, because your birthday reminds you of everything you try to forget year-round.

pepe wants to make the day perfect for you, but he also obviously doesn't want to do too much. it's a hard task, but he's set on making it work – and the first step is getting a cake.

his first thought was to get you something huge, something to properly convey what he thinks you deserve and how much he loves you. though, it didn't take long for him to realize that something like that would be way too much for you. instead, he settled on a more basic yellow cake with some kind of white coating that the lady in the bakery recommended to him, and dropped by the grocery store near campus to buy sprinkles and a bunch of candles.

the end product is a little messy, but created with so much love, and pepe knows you're going to adore it. what he doesn't know is how he managed to keep you away from his refrigerator and the surprise hiding in it all night yesterday, but it doesn't matter – all that matters is that you're currently still sleeping soundlessly in his bed, with no clue of what's going on over in the kitchen.

pepe's hands are trembling slightly as he lights up the candles; he is a little nervous, he will admit, but he's also excited at the same time. he can't wait to see the look of surprise on your face, so he hurries up and places the cake on a tray along with two cups of coffee.

he silently curses at the way his bedroom door creaks when he pushes it open with his foot, but thankfully you don't move a single muscle. he carefully scoots over to the side of the bed, sitting down next to you and balancing the tray in his lap. he reaches over with one hand to your cheek, thumb tracing along your skin, fingers settling under your jaw. "mi amor," he whispers, a soft hum leaving his lips as he watches your eyelids slowly flutter open. "happy birthday."

it takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the sunshine lighting up the room, but when they do, they can't help but focus on him. the goofy grin on his lips, the messy hair, the-

the cake on his lap.

you push yourself up to sit in bed, rubbing some sleep out of your eyes. you're mistaken, surely? you're still half-asleep, you must've imagined it...

but no amount of blinking makes the cake disappear. the little flames of the candles swaying in the air, the single drop of stearic rolling down the side of a candle, the rainbow sprinkles sticking to the top and sides of the cake – it's all very real.

pepe was so sure this was the right way to go. but seeing the tears begin to seep out of the corners of his eyes makes him horrified. he messed up.

he knew the sprinkles would be too much. and that amount of candles, what was he thinking? he definitely went overboard.

"oh my god," he says, instantly placing the tray on the bedside table before scooting closer to you. "i'm so so so sorry, i thought you would like it... i don't know what i was thinking. here, let me-"

you shake your head as he begins brushing away your tears with his thumbs, and to his big surprise, you chuckle. "don't be sorry," you say, letting out another laugh when you see the confused expression on his face. "i do like it. a lot." you reach up to take his hands in yours, bringing them down to the bed and intertwining your fingers. "it's just... very emotional, for me. as you can see."

he also chuckles now, and he thinks he understands – even though seeing your happy tears is more painful than he'd expected. "okay," he says with a nod. "so..." his eyes flicker back to the cake.

"yes, please. i mean, what could be better than a sugar rush first thing in the morning?"

pepe would've been so happy to shower you with presents to express how much he loves you; it would've made him so proud to invite all your friends to a big celebration, to show you how much you mean to all of them, to change your idea of a birthday. but this – sitting together in bed, eating straight from the cake (no plates needed), pressing sugary kisses to each other's cheeks – is another form of perfect.

he just hopes you think it's perfect, too.

hearing you tell the stories of how you needed to bake the cake for yourself if you wanted one as a child, how you always made sure to buy yourself a gift because the risk that no one else would get you one was too high, and how you always needed to plan out your own parties breaks his heart – but hearing you open up like that also means the world to him. he understands that it's all buried so deep inside of you, but there's nothing he wants more than to help you heal and to prove that you can have much better and bigger birthdays than that.

but for now, a little cake in bed and a ton of kisses will have to do.

baby steps.

"chris, will you pass me the chicken korma?"

he leans over the crowded couch table and holds out the takeaway box to nora, who takes it into her hands and thanks him. "that one is really good," you tell her through your mouthful of bread, nodding to your friend.

"what's the verdict, then?" sebastian asks from his seat over on the couch. "i need a rating from the birthday girl, one to ten."

"food? ten," you say, taking a sip of your soda. "company? ten."

birthday? eleven.

the whole day has been much better than you'd expected; from your wake-up this morning, to the lunch date you shared with pepe over in town after a cute walk along the river, to having your closest friends all gathered in your living room for you. you don't even mind the way your buttcheeks are already starting to hurt after sitting on the floor for too long – you knew you should've invested in more seating for moments like these – because all of this is worth it.

"agreed," pepe chimes in from next to you. "especially about the food."

"speaking of which," says emma. "was there any bread left?"

you're quick to jump to your feet, already turning towards the kitchen. "garlic or plain?"

"ooh, garlic! thank you!"

pepe hurries off the floor right after you, making up some excuse about getting a new spoon for one of the sauces, but no one even bats an eye. you hear him enter through the door, and you smile instinctively. "how are you feeling?" he asks when he reaches your side, hand finding the small of your back as you rummage through the takeaway bag. "is this all enough?"

"it's more than enough. so much more." after pulling out the garlic naan from the bag, you reach up to the side of his face with your free hand, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. "best birthday ever."

you seal your words with a feather-light kiss to his lips, and he's still smiling when you pull away. "you promise?" he asks, eyes searching through yours for any slightest hint of insincerity or uncertainty.

"i promise." another kiss, followed by a gentle hum, and he visibly relaxes. "thank you."

"no, thank you." for opening up, for letting him do all this for you. for existing. "only happy birthdays from now on, okay? i will make sure of it."

"it could never be anything other than a happy birthday with you around."

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

airp2ds

read part one of airpods here!!!

wc: 2k reader: femme!afab (matt calls reader a "pretty girl", is called a "young lady" by their uncle-- it's meant to feel derogatory ofc, reader is wearing a skirt, reader dances at a strip club in stilettos) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- less of a bonkers scenario, but some really rich and fun plot development this time; funny & angst & fluff surprisingly-- stepcest obvi and we discuss it summary: after (y/n)'s little stunt a few days ago, their whole family gathers for an anything but peaceful dinner. rivalnewstepbrother!matthew has no interest in helping you out of this awful situation. or does he? yooooooo this only took 4 months to post, but it's perfect so hope you'll forgive me!! i TOLD you i'd do it eventually. and i did. missing organ and all. ilyyy thanks for bearing with me ੈ✩‧₊˚

ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, stepcest and we don't ignore it, p-in-v penetrative sex, brief heavy petting/fingering, not entirely safe cum destination lmao, unprotected obviously (do what you want, be smart), reader is a dancer at a strip club and their family is appalled, swearing... this one made me feel again yay

you stick your fork in a potato and pop it in your mouth, chewing and swallowing as you stare at your plate. your entire extended family converses around you at the long, glass dining table, celebrating your new stepdad’s birthday with your mom’s locally famous honey ham and roasted potatoes. 

everyone’s having a goodman ball.

everyone except... you.

after suffering such a devastating defeat a couple nights ago, you’d been avoiding matthew like the plague. tail between your legs, you’d stood up from your stepbrother’s bed after he left you high and dry— sulking all the way back to your room.

you’d been avoiding matthew so diligently since then that this dinner was the first time you’d seen him since his fingers were inside you. he’s eating a little too well and talking to all of your family members, oozing respect and likability. 

you’ve never hated anyone more.

“now matthew,” you grandmother starts, reaching out her hand to him, “please tell us more about what you’ve been doing abroad. it all sounds so important from what your father’s mentioned!”

matthew smiles humbly. “i’ve been pursuing a career in performance in seoul! it’s really not all that important in the scheme of things, but it’s definitely been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.”

“don’t be too humble, matthew,” your stepdad calls from the head of the table. “he works tirelessly day and night to accomplish his goal! he’s such a great kid.”

“we’re so very proud. i never imagined having a child with such passion and drive!” your mom chimes in obliviously. her eyes widen when she realizes what she said and she clears her throat awkwardly. “i mean, a son, that is.”

you close your eyes, stabbing a roasted red potato and letting your fork clatter onto the fine china plate. 

“(y/n), how are you doing?” your uncle asks quickly. “have you found a better job yet?”

“i’m doing fine, thank you,” you answer through gritted teeth. “and i like my job. i’m not interested in finding one that society would categorize as better at this time.”

“but a young lady like you shouldn’t be—.”

“but what i am interested in finding a better version of,” you interrupt, picking up your glass of wine and downing the remaining contents, “is a family. one that doesn’t judge me or compare me to my new stepbrother— who, if i’m to judge from how you all indulge him, is jesus christ reincarnated! how divinely exciting!”

“(y/n),” your mother scolds, grabbing the empty wine glass out of your hand. “don’t be so cruel to your brother.”

“he’s not my brother,” you assert, snatching the wine glass back. in a flash, it slips from your fingers and shatters onto the dining room floor.

“you always do this,” your mother sighs, shaking her head in disappointment. she can’t even look at you. "you get so jealous when anyone is doing better than you are. i’m just so tired of your selfish immaturity.”

“perhaps it's time for you to get your own apartment and stop freeloading off of us,” your stepfather says with a sigh. “then you’ll find the motivation to stop working at that indecent bar and start making a proper living.”

your stomach flips at the threat. “i grew up in this house. you moved in a year ago after the mortgage was already paid off. doesn’t that make you as much of a fucking freeloader as i am?”

“(y/n), stop this right now,” your mom tries again to quiet you.

“you talk like that and you think you could ever be as well-liked as my son? the—”

“dad,” matthew says, trying to interrupt the rant that’s already begun. he should know by now it’s too late.

“—reason that no one here ever boasts about your accomplishments is because you have none. the reason no one ever praises how respectable you are is because it would be a lie. you—”

“dad,” matthew says again, louder this time but it still doesn’t reach the ears of the valentino-suited man turning red in the face.

“—are an ungrateful brat of an adult child that doesn’t even have enough vision for their life to stop working at a strip club.”

everyone at the dinner table gasps. so the truth has been set free: ‘bar’ had been the code word your ashamed mother and stepfather had been using in place of ‘strip club’ for the past year.

guess their resentment had finally outweighed their shame.

your gaze travels down the table, landing on matthew. he’s staring at his lap awkwardly.

“if you’ll excuse me,” you say, standing up from your chair and giving a big, facetious curtsy. “the whore will leave the table now.”

——

you slam your bedroom door behind you, storming over to your bed and picking up your favorite plushy— the one your dad had bought you for your high school graduation before he... it’s a baby fox, pink blush across his smiling face. usually the only aggression you feel towards him is that of cuteness, but suddenly you find yourself filled with rage.

how had you not noticed before just how much barnaby foxworth iii looks like your stupid fucking stepbrother!?

you turn around, hurling baby foxworth across your room with a scream. your eyes widen as the plushy lands in the hands of his human twin. you hadn’t heard him come in over the blood rushing in your ears. 

matthew looks at the plushy, brow furrowing as he studies it. “i feel like i’ve seen this face somewhere before.”

“get the fuck out of my room,” you growl, walking over to him and grabbing baby foxworth. you frown as matthew holds onto him, not letting you pry your own plushy from his hands. “let go of him! what the fuck is your problem!?”

“i distinctly remember you stealing something from me a couple days ago and making it quite the fucking challenge to get it back,” matthew argues, pulling a little harder. “besides, how much can you really want something that you just threw across the room?”

you continue a tug-o-war for your beloved baby fox until you hear a sudden ripping noise. matthew lets go instantly, fear splayed across his face. you take baby foxworth in your arms, finding the fabric tear at the base of his little neck.

“i’m so sorry,” he apologizes quickly. “i really didn’t meant to—.”

“you’re sorry?” you repeat, jaw clenching as you step towards him. “sorry for what? sorry that you mamed barnaby foxworth iii? sorry that you barged into my room without knocking? sorry that i’ve made yet another mess out of a family celebration?”

“(y/n)…”

“sorry that all you do while they ridicule me is sit there and stare at your plate? sorry that your dad married my mom?”

“wait, (y/n)—…”

“sorry that i work at a strip club? sorry for what we did the other day?”

“i—…,” he stutters hopelessly. “i—.”

suddenly, your lips are on matthew’s— his body tensing at the unexpected action. you pull back, eyes meeting his.

they’re wide, shocked, confused. his hand reaches towards your face quickly and you think for a moment he’s going to slap you with it, but instead, he cups your jaw.

holding you still, he brings his lips back down to touch yours again. it’s a slow, languid kiss that, in and of itself, feels like an apology. a genuine one. 

it’s overwhelming. it challenges everything you thought you knew about this stranger you were now forced to call family.

you step back, clutching baby foxworth tighter to your chest. 

“they were so impressed when you told them you’re a dancer,” you whisper, tears beginning to spill over. “why were they so disgusted when i told them i am, too?”

his face falls as he thinks about your words. “i think you know why.”

you press your lips together, a sardonic huff of a laugh escaping you. did you really think you’d get sympathy from him?

“but it’s not fair,” matthew continues. “it’s not fair that they treat you that way.”

you’re afraid to look up at him, eyes remaining fixed on the tear at your plushy’s neck. “i didn’t even think you’d noticed.”

“i’ll admit, i didn’t see it at first. it’s not like i’m here that often,” he replies with a sigh. “and i guess i did think you were the problem. and i do still think you’re part of the problem, don’t get me wrong.”

you roll your eyes, looking down at the floor.

“but maybe you’ve forgotten that no one knows what my dad can be like more than i do,” matthew says, wrapping his hand gently around your upperarm. “i thought maybe he’d finally changed for the better after marrying your mom, but i know now that’s far from the truth. and i can try my best to help you from now on, if you’ll let me.”

“thanks,” you say quietly as your eyes meet his. he smiles softly at you before you promptly brush his hand off your arm. “but i still don’t like you.”

your hostility just widens his smile. “i thought you’d say that.”

you turn, walking back to your bed and placing baby foxworth by your pillows. you think about what your family must still be saying about you around the dinner table. your thoughts are halted, however, when a warm, muscular chest is soon pressed against your back.

“i was just wondering,” he says softly against your ear, arm snaking around your waist. “there has to be something about me that you like, right? i mean, you're the one who wanted my face in your cunt. and don't think i haven't heard you call me perfect a few times now.”

“i meant it as an insult,” you breathe as a hand reaches underneath your skirt— fingers beginning to pad delicate circles over your panties.

“was screaming my name while cumming all over my fingers also supposed to be taken as an insult?” he asks, knee against the back of yours until you tumble gently onto your bed— his arms catching you and flipping you on your back to face him. “you must’ve really been trying to offend me.”

matthew shimmies your skirt and panties down your legs and you find yourself assisting to kick it off with your foot onto the floor. he laughs much too smugly as he unzips his slacks and discards them onto the hardwood. you hover your foot over his groin, brow raising in a threat.

“okay, okay,” he admits in defeat. as a grin stretches across your lips, he bites at your thighs hungrily and sighs. “god, i wish i wasn’t your brother.”

“matt!” you screech in horror and he takes the opportunity to sink himself inside you. you gasp at the sudden stretch, a protest turning to a whimper as he smirks at you. “matt...”

“no need to worry, baby,” he coos, tip of his cock reaching your backmost wall. “it’s pretty obvious there’s a divorce on the way. my dad’s already let it slip to me about how he secretly blew all the money in their joint savings on a third yacht.”

“my mom’s been fucking her tennis instructor for two months,” you reply, trying to hold yourself together as matthew increases his pace. “and her golf instructor. and her pilates instructor. and her business lawyer. and her—.”

matthew’s lips meet yours. “you’re so fucking hot.”

you run your hand up his chest, tugging at his shirt until he pulls it off over his head. it’s a shame to admit it, but... he is perfect.

“but if our parents get divorced, we’ll never see each other,” you say with a pout. you shake your head quickly, realizing what you just said. “which i’m totally fine with. but you’d probably be really upset.”

a particularly rough thrust sends you reeling— crying out in pleasure and totally blowing your act. 

“yeah, it’d be really hard for me,” matthew patronizes, mimicking your pout. “g’nna cum for me, pretty girl? hm?”

“fuck,” you whine, nearly at your peak. you honestly had no idea how good at dancing matthew was, but if he was half as good at dancing as he was at fucking, then even goddamn dick van dyke would be proud. your walls flutter around him, a chorus of moans as he pushes you over the edge.

“oh my god,” matthew rasps as you reach your climax, his thrusts growing more desperate and sporadic. “pussy’s so fucking perfect, baby. made me want you so bad, i—.”

he pulls out quickly, a few pumps before painting your cunt with his cum as he moans under his breath. he stares at the sight for a few moments before his head tilts thoughtfully and a smirk upturns a corner of his lips.

“something to share with the class?” you ask, one eyebrow piquing.

he laughs, shrugging at your prodding. “i was just thinking about how i definitely wouldn’t be the golden child anymore if anyone knew about this.”

“i dunno. i think somehow you’d still come out unscathed,” you say, shaking your head. “i must’ve tempted you. coerced you. blackmailed you.”

he smiles at you sadly. “listen, i know that... i know things must suck for you right now and—... i mean it when i say i’m gonna try my best to fix—.”

“matthew!”

you both freeze as the sound of your stepfather’s voice rings from downstairs. matthew clears his throat, calling back, “yeah?”

“come downstairs! aunt bethany wants to talk to you about visiting seoul.”

“okay!” matthew answers. he rolls his eyes. “i hate your aunt bethany.”

“you and me both, kid,” you reply, sitting up on your hands as matthew hurriedly gets dressed. “have fun.”

“come with me,” he requests, picking up your skirt from off the floor and holding it out to you. 

you consider it, but shake your head. “tell me if you hear any good gossip about me. i have to get ready for my shift anyway.”

“really? you’re gonna go strip after this?” matthew asks, lips parted in surprise.

“dance,” you correct. “i’m gonna go dance.”

he smiles. “when do you get back?”

“around one,” you answer, standing up and walking over to your vanity. “why?”

“my flight’s at midnight,” he says, biting his lip. your mascara clatters to the table as a tiny, annoying ball of disappointment forms in your chest. “so i guess i’ll catch you another time.”

you don’t say anything— just continue doing your makeup as you try to ignore that growing ball. 

“okay then,” matthew says finally, opening your door. “bye, (y/n).”

“my mom’s birthday is next month.”

the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. you don’t regret it.

“she likes you more than me, so,” you continue with as much nonchalance as you can feign. “she’d probably want to see you.”

matthew catches your eye through your mirror. he just smiles.

~ EPILOGUE ~

you clamber through your bedroom door in the dark, stilettos still on as you stumble into bed and flop onto it in exhaustion. you clap your hands— bedside light turning on as you reach for baby foxworth. you cradle him under your chin, squeezing him tight. suddenly, you remember the tear in his neck from when matthew had ripped him after dinner. 

you feel around for the hole, but are surprised when you find a crinkly, purple sticky note instead. on it, is written: 

told you i’m gonna try to fix everything.  — your favorite brother ;)

“disgusting,” you mutter under your breath, turning your attention back to baby foxworth’s neck hole. except...

there is no hole.

okay, matty, you think with a smile. let’s see what you’ve got.

[yelenasdiary]

OK OK OK I have a request go with me here. What about Florence with an insecure reader but she’s plus size she’s insecure about like sitting on Florence’s lap (and face 😗) so maybe like a fluffy smut or something idk I just haven’t been feeling to good about my body these days. You 100% don’t have to do this. Ok love you bye!!!!😘

Why Me?

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Plus Size! Reader

Summary: Flo helps you cope when your mind gets the better of you.

Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Body image issues, Mentions of Depression & Cyber Bullying| 1.3K

AC: I hope you enjoy this, I didn’t include any smut or suggestive themes as I simply do not do that when writing celebrity x reader so I hope what I have written is still somewhat what you were looking for x

Dating a celebrity wasn't easy, especially when you never thought you were built for the spotlight of any kind. Birthdays were usually small just to keep the attention off you as much as possible and you never liked it much when people would make a fuss about your achievements. You were shy, but it was one of the many things Florence, your girlfriend, loved about you. 

Florence absolutely loves showing you off. At family events, she was always seen proudly holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around your waist. It took a long time for her to get you to say yes to attending a red-carpet event with her. Florence had this way of making you smile and laugh when you didn't know you needed it the most, it was like she was always one step ahead of your insecurities and thoughts. 

But not everything was rainbows and butterflies. The world can be cruel, not matter how big or small you are, people are always going to express their opinions and it was one of the biggest things that Florence quickly noticed that was affecting you. Whenever the paparazzi snapped photos of you and Florence hand in hand walking the streets of LA or the rare chance that caught you kissing in a busy café in London, there were always comments. 

Harsh and cruel comments directed mostly to you, comments on your body, weight and how people couldn't understand why Florence was with you. Most of the time you were able to avoid seeing them or ignored them whenever you did see them but being human, they got to you sometimes. You've struggled with thoughts about yourself for a while and it never helped when your depression would side with those thoughts. Florence hated the comments, and she would know when you had read some. 

"What's on your mind darling?" Florence's raspy voice brought your attention back to earth as you looked up from the plate of food in front of you. "Huh? Oh, sorry" you quickly collected yourself, "I'm just a little tired, I think I might be coming down with something" you added. Florence tilted her head slightly to the right, "don't give me that" she said knowing you weren't being truthful with her. 

You sighed, placing the silver fork beside the plate of untouched food, you knew there was no hope in lying to her. She studied your body language while you racked your brain to form the words you wanted to say but not wanting to upset your girlfriend. "I guess, I just" you started, avoiding eye contact with the blonde knowing full well that if you looked into her big green eyes that the tears you felt trying their best to build would break. Florence reached over the table and gently placed her hand on top of your left, "it's okay baby, take your time" she assured you. 

A moment of silence was shared between the two of you before you finally broke it and spoke the thoughts that had been circling your mind for the last few days. "Why me?" You asked, "I mean, you could have anybody in the world, I mean that literally. You could have somebody who isn't….well…. me" you spoke, your eyes dropping to your lap. 

Florence rose from her seat and walked over to you and kneeled, taking your hands into hers. "Look at me darling, please" she spoke. Slowly, you lifted your head up, looking at her with tears building up, "where is this coming from?" She asked, her thumbs brushing gently over your knuckles. A tear streamed down your right cheek when you saw nothing but love and concern from your partner, "I guess" you paused for a moment, "I feel so ugly" you said, "sometimes I think everybody is right, you can do a lot better than me" you added as more tears streamed down your cheeks. 

Without hesitation, Florence stood up and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close to her and placing a kiss on the top of your head. "Oh darling" she said softly. She didn't need to know how this all started, she noticed recently how you were slowly hiding yourself away from those around you, avoiding going out to lunch with Florence, afraid of what more people would say. She hated it so much that people could be so cruel and not think about what their words could do to another human. She gently rubbed your back, letting you break down in her arms. You were tired and she knew that. 

She kneeled down in front of you again, wiping the tears from your cheeks, "I don't want anybody else, I don't need anybody else" she assured you, "You don't see yourself the way I see you, all those strangers don't see you the way I see you, they don't see the beautiful soul that makes my day better every morning, they don't see how hard working you are. You care so, so much about every single person around you, you make sure that everybody feels seen and included and it's something I love about you, but it also makes me wonder why you don't treat yourself with the same kindness. 

You are the most beautiful person I have ever met; I am so lucky that you picked me. I am so lucky to love you. I love that I get to wake up next to you every morning and coming home to you is all I look forward to each day. Darling, nobody is perfect but you are perfect to me and I know that sounds cliché but I wouldn't have you any other way. I just want you to be happy" she said, ever breaking eye contact with you. She brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "how about this weekend you and I take a trip, wherever you want to go. We'll take some time away from everything and just enjoy our time" she suggested. 

You nodded, loving the idea of not having to worry about your insecurities. Although they didn't go away completely but Florence always had a magic way of making you forget about them. 

----

The sun kissed the top of the lake that you looked over, sitting on Florence's lap while she traced random shapes and patterns on your back. Like the sun, her presence and comfort brought a sense of warmth to you. Nothing else mattered in this moment but spending it with the one person you loved and adored so much. The weekend had only started, you and Florence had booked out a lake house for the weekend to enjoy, arriving in the early hours of the morning Florence still was able to cook up an amazing breakfast which the two of you enjoyed on the porch overlooking the lake. 

"It's so beautiful here" you commented as your eyes traced over the mountains that overlooked the lake. Florence smiled softly, "it is, isn't it" she replied. Although she didn't care much for the view of the lake but more the soft smile that you wore proudly. She placed a kiss on your cheek which only made you blush at her unexpected affection. 

"Thank you" you said as you looked over your shoulder at Florence, "I'm sorry that my mind gets the better of me sometimes" you added. 

"Oh darling, you don't need to apologise nor thank me" she smiled before leaning up and kissing your lips gently, "just promise me that when you start to feel down again, you talk to me. I am always here for you, my love. I'd drop everything just to see you smile, never forget that" she added before you kissed her once more, smiling against her lips before you pulled away. 

"I love you" you whispered to her.

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[willowser]

you know gojo satoru as a friend of a friend.

you hear more than you think you should about him, given that he's not really your friend, but that's all just chalked up to him being gojo satoru.

you hear conflicting things. some say he's a playboy and some say he's the biggest virgin on the planet. some say he's rich only from family money and some say he's been the most important part of the gojo business since it began. some say he's so fake that it's frightening, and some say he wouldn't hurt a fly.

it's enough to kind of ward you off a little bit, how much is said about him. whenever he pops into your thoughts, you always end them with a shake of your head, a "i really don't have time for that kind of drama in my life".

he disappears for a little while. you notice and you don't. parties and dinners without him are less chaotic, but not as memorable. the gift exchanges you do with your friends are, as much as you hate to say, lackluster. you're not invited to any weird, big events anymore—like some celebrity birthday or fashion shows or black tie silent auctions—even though you never went before; the tickets would just sit on your dresser until the ink faded and lost color, and now you don't have any.

you never ask, because you don't know who to. he and suguru weren't talking before he left, anyway, for reasons that you're too far removed to get the scoop on. you know of the students he mentors but you don't know them, actually, and you think the little mauve-haired one would have the answer, but you can't commit to the awkwardness of asking him. after a few weeks, his cousin disappears, too—a quiet boy with a sad look in his eyes, who has only ever been kind to you.

you run into him by chance, at an ice cream shop of all places.

his hair is not styled, flat and a bit dull against his head, and his eyes aren't as bright as you think you remember them being. but it's hard to tell. that makes you feel bad, and so you stop trying to find all the little ways he's changed—because if you want to know so bad, why don't you man up and ask?

he looks tired and his smile doesn't dimple, but it stretches thin across his face regardless when you say hello to him. something about his smell is off, too. expensive but not in a sharp, cologne way, but a sterile, clinical way. he knows your name and when he says it, his voice rasps, like he's been asleep for a long time. you don't know what any of it means, but it alarms you in an instinctive way, like how you know when someone is hurting and just needs a bit of kindness.

yuuta comes from around the corner while you make small talk, but he gives gojo his space. shoots him a small thumbs-up that is returned.

you've both been standing in the corner for an amount time that doesn't match the distant relationship you have, but leaving him now feels like abandonment. you never realized how much he towers over you. you never realized how much he joked until he doesn't.

you realize you don't have any of your own opinions of him, of satoru. only ones that have been fed to you.

you decide to start forming your own.

"i feel like," you reach behind him for the counter, for a spoon. the little cup of ice cream in his hand is melting because you've been talking for too long. "i haven't seen you in a long time."

he doesn't say anything when you scoop up a little and hold it to his lips. you don't know if you're being offensive or weird because you don't have any sort of threshold with him, but there's only one way to get one.

the first thing you really truly feel about him is that maybe he needs a little more help than anyone realized. maybe that's where he's been.

eventually some life comes back to his face, and he takes the bite you're offering. "yeah," he agrees, and when his eyes shift towards the window, the sun shining through makes them seem translucent. "i didn't feel like myself for a while."

"well, do you now?"

"i think so," he eyes shift towards yuuta, who smiles reflexively, a bit shy, when you glance at him. "i hope so."

you turn back to him and take your own bite of his ice cream—a rather large one, too, since it's melting—before saying, "yeah, me too."

and you still don't know what's right or wrong in his eyes, but he smiles, dimpled, and you think you're finding your footing.

[artificial-transmutations]

Hey I'm George. I am a 26 civil engineer working in a big company but it si not what i expected. It is so boring and I am only doing it since it ws what is expected of me. I wish you could transform me into a hot stripper or porn star cause that's has always been my secret dream. I don't wanna be transformed into an object.

Transformation Letters - The gay club

Even writing the letter to the unknown company has been an act of rebellion. All your life, you have been doing what was expected of you. You finished school with good grades and enrolled in an engineering degree program.

The first years were alright. It was still interesting, and you enjoyed the classes, but slowly you had to come to the realization that perhaps, engineering wasn't quite for you. The work was getting more and more monotonous, and the tasks were less and less creative. Regardless, you graduated with an acceptable degree and got a job in the field as a civil engineer.

Now, almost three years later, you are sitting in a small office cubicle, doing the same stuff that you did in the last few years.

"I hate it here.", you think and look at the blueprints on the wall. They are supposed to be "motivating", showing what your company builds. To you, however, they are nothing more than a reminder that the work is dull and unfulfilling.

As you get up and grab the coffee from the machine, you realize just how much of a rut your life has fallen into. Looking at the calendar on the wall, you recognize another thing: It's your birthday today. Yay. 26 wasted years, at least in your opinion. You don't have many friends or family, but for once, you decide to celebrate a bit on your own. You are going to visit a club tonight.

Some hours later, you find yourself in a gay nightclub. You are not out or anything, but your sexuality has been a matter of fact to you for some years now, so visiting a gay bar is on your bucket list anyway. The thumbing music surrounds you, making it near impossible to talk to anyone and even though it feels kind of exciting to be in such a location, you can't help but feeling kind of lonely and displaced here. Seeing all those hot guys dancing makes it terribly obvious for you that you are way too uptight to ever move your body to the music like that.

But... Perhaps you should just... try?

The thought is entirely alien to you, but... strangely appealing. So, you just try to dance to the music.

At first, it feels very awkward and a bit uncomfortable, but after a few moments, you relax. And, to your big surprise, you actually manage to move your body along with the beat. As your self-confidence grows, so does the speed and forcefulness of your movements. Before you know it, you have attracted the attention of a group of three men. Normally, being the center of attention would be something you despise, but right now it feels liberating and right. So right, in fact, that you do something crazy! The stage is empty right now, and, following these strange new impulses, you climb onto the stage and begin to dance to the music. You are still wearing your work attire and it is quickly becoming way too warm as you move your body. So, without thinking, you slowly begin to unbutton your shirt.

To your amazement, the crowd begins to cheer and applaud. It is like a wave of acceptance and approval washes over you, and the more buttons you undo, the more enthusiastic the cheering becomes. It is somehow getting easier and easier to follow the beat. Both your sense of rhythm as well as your physical fitness seem to increase and moving to the music quickly becomes a second nature for you. When you have finally unbuttoned your shirt, you slide out of it and spin it around your hand a few times before throwing it into the crowd. A bunch of hands shoot up, and the shirt quickly disappears. You keep moving to the music, now only wearing a white undershirt, which sticks to your skin and reveals your well-toned body. You have been working out once in a while, trying to keep yourself fit with mediocre success, but even you are a bit surprised how well your body looks right now. Your muscles are defined and bulging and when you pull the undershirt off as well, the cheers rise to an almost deafening level.

It feels like a wave of energy rushes through your body. You can barely think straight and the only thing you can focus on is the music and the movement. You have already gotten used to being the center of attention, but now, even more people join the crowd around you. They are staring at your body, and you can clearly make out their lust and admiration, making you smile. The next thing to go, is, of course, your pants, which you slowly peel off and, as with the shirt, throw them into the crowd, where they disappear as well.

Your movements are becoming faster and faster, and soon, you have almost completely shed your clothes, revealing your athletic and lean body, now shining with sweat. Your ample bulge is thinly veiled by your pair of bright blue briefs that do their best to set your assets, both your dick and your ass, into scene...

***

Hey, I’m Elias, a 22yo bartender with a French and Linguistics degree at University, though sometimes I wish I could trade smarts for sports and strength. I don’t think I’m unattractive, I never have much problem getting attention from guys at the club, but I feel like guys just look at me like I’m another pale twink with brown hair and hazel eyes. I don’t want to be an object, I like being a man: I just want to be more manly. Muscles and beard, I want to look powerful and have other guys be jealous of me.

It's a usual Friday evening for you, and you are tending bar in the towns gay club as usual. It's not too bad - your twinkish body usually gets you some tips, and today is no different. There are times, however, that you wish you were just a bit more... manly. Of course, everyone always wants to be what they are not. But seeing those sexy guys every day, made of beef and manliness makes you almost hate your thin and slender form. That is, after all, what made you write that letter some weeks ago, even though you already forgot about it by now.

All of a sudden, one of the club's visitors climbs onto the stage. Even though it's empty right now, people aren't supposed to go up there, for insurance reasons. Apparently, nobody else has noticed, so you decide to handle the situation yourself. You tell your colleague on the bar that you will be right back and then make your way to the stage.

The guy who has climbed up there seems to be some kind of office worker and is apparently completely focused on dancing. You just want to tell him to come down from the stage when he begins to unbutton his shirt in the rhythm of the music. Having forgotten what you meant to do for a moment, you stare, mesmerized at the guy on stage slowly getting out of his shirt. He looks quite attractive and moves his body like a pro. The crowd notices the show, and slowly, the whole scene becomes the focus of attention. The office guy has now spun his shirt around and thrown it into the crowd, which has now grown considerably. You have to admit, the whole show and the guy look kind of sexy. Not your usual type, he has more of a lean and athletic body that is revealed more and more with every move he takes. Still, he is good.

Next to you, directly in front of the stage, one of the red faux leather chairs has just become free, as the guy who sat in it went to get some drinks. The crowd is moving constantly and, without really thinking, you take a seat there. The office worker is still dancing, his sweaty body almost glowing, and his bulge looks impressively large, even in the low lighting of the club. You can feel yourself getting hard, and through your suit pants, you feel yourself up discreetly.

Actually.

Fuck discreetly. You rub your crotch through your pants while your eyes are still glued to the stripper on stage. Your mind is slowly going blank. You don't notice how the other bar patrons slowly stop moving to the music and gather around the stage instead, watching the office guy perform. You are completely entranced, unable to think, just staring at the spectacle in front of you, while your cock strains against the fabric of your pants.

Actually, your cock is not the only thing straining against your clothes. It is as if all your body is expanding, in every direction, all at once: Your shoulders, your arms, and your legs widen and grow thicker, while your ass and muscles swell. At the same time, the first hints of stubble and beard hairs break through your skin.

Your suit feels constricting, and you consider getting up to go to the bathroom to get out of them. But...

Actually.

Fuck modesty. With more raw strength than elegance, you remove your clothing while you still can. Your body continues to grow stronger and stronger and when your chest is bared, your nipples have hardened to the point where they seem like small pebbles.

It feels so fucking good to just get out of the clothes that are becoming more and more uncomfortable with every passing second. You watch with a superior smile as hair also grows on your chest and abs, as well as on your legs and arms, making your whole torso look furry.

When your pants are gone, your underwear is the only piece of clothing left on you.

And fuck, that's getting really tight!

But, as you watch, it is morphing into a different material. What was once a pair of cotton boxer briefs quickly becomes a pair of black shiny leather underwear, pronouncing the growing bulge of your hard cock. The bulge is, of course, not only growing because you're rock-hard: Also, inside the alien pair of leather underwear, your member is growing bigger and bigger with each throb, slowly becoming a true monster cock.

Other parts of you don't seem to be stopping growing larger as well: Your biceps are more than impressive right now, your forearms look like you can crush a watermelon with them and your thighs are as thick as tree trunks.

As the music keeps playing, the hair on your body grows denser and longer. You now have a manly full beard, and, as you cross your strong arms behind your head, a thick bush of hair emerges from each of your armpits, flooding the direct vicinity with your manly stench.

You grin as you look up to the stripper, who is just about to shed his pair of blue underwear and lick your lips. After the show, you're gonna take him home and breed him!

[pedrithink]

ੈ✩ masterlist ੈ✩

last updated: june 1st, 2024

social media fics

opposites attract - kylian mbappé

where there is golden retriever! kylian and his black cat girlfriend.

it girl - kylian mbappé

kylian is dating the gen’s it girl and can't help but be a simp for her.

unknown - kylian mbappé

kylian dates a person outside the media and fans find out about her.

love to hate me - kylian mbappé

kylian dates messi's eldest daughter and the media always talks that messi doesn't like him, they really don’t know the truth.

liverpool fan - jude bellingham

jude bellingham got a liverpool fan girlfriend and fans go crazy.

couple goals - kylian mbappé

you and kylian being the best celebrity couple ever.

break up - kylian mbappé

the media spreads that you and kylian broke up.

the sister of my best friend - jude bellingham

request: can you do an instagram au where the reader is trent's sister and soft launches her relationship with jude?

celebrity - pedri gonzález

request: hey, love your works a lot❣️ could you maybe do a social media fic where news report that pedri is dating this very famous celebrity and everyone is like :00 how?? but also WOW!! ;;; tyyy <;33

traitor - kylian mbappé

your boyfriend cheated on you, but you know someone much better.

secret - pedri gonzález

everyone thinks you and gavi are dating, but you have eyes for someone else.

mother’s day - kylian mbappé

celebrating your first mother's day.

my home - jude bellingham

jude and his low profile girlfriend.

london boy - jude bellingham

david beckham! daughter

you and i - jude bellingham

request: maybe you could do Jude and his girlfriend through different stages of their relationship

we find love - jude bellingham

request: can i request a jude x reader smau where the reader was jude's childhood bst, but they lost contact when they were younger (maybe around 10/11) bcos the reader had to move countries? then in one of jude's recent interviews, he talks about her and how he used to support him a lot but he doesn't know where she is and his fans find her for him

friends into strangers - jude bellingham

friends into strangers.

the other woman - mason mount

you will be always the other woman to some fans, but for mason you are the only one.

lost in paradise - jude bellingham

everyone thinks that you and jude have broken up.

surprise - jude bellingham

request: hi can you do where jude's camera pictures get leaked and everyone knows who his gf is.

private - jude bellingham

jude being a fool for you and you not giving a “damn” about him. reader! trent’s best friend.

no pics - jude bellingham

fans notice that you don't post many pictures showing your face.

birthday - jude bellingham

posts for jude’s birthday through the years.

changes - mason mount

mason joined manchester united and with all this hate, fans think that you should break up with him.

hate to love me - jude bellingham

request: gf that gets hated on for being jude’s gf and he defends her

delicate - jude bellingham

the massive hate you are getting on internet and the way jude stood by you, supporting you.

dream family - pedri gonzález

request: im on my knees begging for a messi reader x pedri 🙏🏼 soc med au or oneshot i will take what i can get

photos - pablo gavi

you being the photographer of barcelona.

[s-awturn]

Moon Spell || CS55

summary: They were fated to love someone they hated. There was no spell, no grudge, no curse that could break the bond that united them, doomed to die in the feelings they fiercely nurtured. The Moon had determined it and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

“These violent pleasures have violent ends, and die in their triumph, like fire and gunpowder, which, when they kiss, consume each other. The sweetest honey is disgusting in its own sweetness, and its taste confuses the palate.”

cw: Violence, conflict, soulmates, blood, magic, alternate universe, obscenity, pure filth, chaos, fighting, swearing, intense hatred, love, mention of death, blood.

a/n: This came to celebrate Carlos' birthday and to open the new phase of my profile. This is supposed to have five chapters, no more, no less. I don't know what else to say, so read on!

starring: werewolf!Carlos x witch!Fem reader

Part One: We Were Born To Die

”Choose your last words, this is the last time 'Cause you and I, we were born to die”

Europe, 1498.

She packed all her belongings into a deep leather bag, threw in crystals, grimoires, a few candles, and other magical items; she couldn't stay there long, her hiding place had been discovered and soon crazy fanatics would be there to drag her to the stake. She couldn't waste her family's sacrifice in keeping her alive.

“Let's go, Spix, let's not wait for those madmen to take us to the fire or the gallows” she said, picking up the cat and putting it in the basket. Toledo was no longer a safe place, in fact there was no safe place, with the frightening religious fanaticism that the kings of Spain were feeding, everyone was suspected of witchcraft and heresy, women were dragged to the catacombs of churches and were never seen again.

S/N saw husbands hand over their wives, fathers hand over their daughters, everyone wanted the silver coins that the Church was offering. She needed to get away from this, S/N knew that her neighbors were suspicious of her, a woman living alone on the outskirts of the village attracted attention. She couldn't leave any room for bad luck.

She threw a black cape over her simple dress, tightened her boots, and left the house, saying goodbye silently. That house where her parents lived their entire lives, where she herself spent her life, would soon be burned down, so many memories would be turned into ashes; He didn't look back, he clutched the bag under his arm and ran into the woods, listening to Spix's meows, nestled in the bag.

The moonlight illuminated her steps, ensuring that she managed to avoid roots and holes in the ground and it wasn't long before she heard the angry shouts of the villagers, She hid behind a thick trunk and saw the torches shining in the darkness, they cried out the name of God, calling her a witch and accusing her of heresy. S/N heard her door being broken down.

It wouldn't be long before they noticed her absence and went hunting for her in the forest. She needed to run far away, get away from poor fanatics after a few dozen silver coins. Her life wasn't worth that.

She made her way to a remote part of the forest, where wolves and other wild animals hid. No villager would dare to go there, after all, no one wanted to become wolf food.

When she passed through the oak arch, a shiver shook her insides, S/N looked at the sky and the Moon shone so brightly that it illuminated small patches of darkness in the forest, and a thought made her stop: It was a full moon night and the werewolves would go out to hunt.

She was vulnerable in the middle of the woods, with only a small dagger in the pocket of her cloak and her magic. Anyway, she hoped that no werewolves would cross her path, or she would have a lot of problems besides angry Catholics.

She went deeper into the forest, even Spix's meows fell silent. In fact, there was no sound at all, the wind did not cut through the trees, the leaves did not rustle, not even the nocturnal animals screeched in their hiding places. Until a deep sound echoed, an angry growl that betrayed hunger.

Y/N gripped the dagger with trembling fingers, witches and werewolves had hated each other since the first dawn, if it really was a hungry werewolf there, she would love to devour her, just for the pleasure of destroying her; he took a deep breath and ran between the trees, whatever it was, he wasn't going to risk staying there, even though turning his back was already a high risk.

She ended up in a clearing completely lit by the moon, the exact same clearing where she and her mother used to perform rituals to thank the goddess for the harvest and the coven celebrated.

But that was before Ferdinand and Isabella began their persecution. Before she saw her friends burn at the stake, her parents die on the gallows.

A dark bark stopped her in the middle of the clearing, Y/N heard the branches being broken and the frightening sound of teeth chattering. Her heart accelerated painfully, she was terrified, maybe she could make the roots hold him, but her magic wasn't strong enough for that.

Her magic core was weak and did not have enough strength to channel forces of nature. She would have to make do with an iron dagger and the help of the goddess.

— ☽ —

It was the night of the full moon and he could feel the effects surging through his body since early on, and there was a strange feeling present in his chest. Carlos felt that something was going to happen that night, and it wouldn't just be the milestone of his thirty years of age.

He saw his father cross the small village with a group of refugees, religious madness had arrived in those parts and was terrorizing his people, there was no one who did not fear being dragged into the church basement. No one wanted to be tortured and killed.

“Stop daydreaming and go help your sister, that roof is still going to fall on her head” he heard his mother order.

“Where is her husband? That’s that lazy bastard’s responsibility,” he questioned, but received a click of his tongue in return. He growled in irritation, Carlos would beat up his brother-in-law as soon as he could. And he wouldn't care about his sister's crying or his father's lecture.

He trudged over to his sister's shack, seeing Blanca hanging from the roof, hammering some nails into the central beam. This only made him growl even more, he really was going to punch his brother-in-law in the face as soon as he got the chance.

“Blanca, what the hell are you doing there?" He stopped far enough away to see his sister, Blanca wiped the sweat on her forehead and glared at him mockingly.

“I think I'm baking bread, what do you think?” she retorted sarcastically.

“And where is your useless husband? He must be sleeping…”

“Don't talk about him like that, you know his health is fragile” She tries to defend her husband, but this only increases Carlos' irritation.

“He's a werewolf, Blanca, the only fragile thing about him is his will to work” Carlos growled “Get down from there, I'll take care of this, since your husband is as useless as a leaky bucket!”

The woman came down from the roof, and Carlos took her place, still complaining about his sister's husband and insisting on hammering the boards hard, not caring if it would wake the sleeping man. Work distracted him from the strange feeling in his chest, he didn't know how the full moon night would end, but he knew something would happen.

Only when the sun began to set on the horizon did Carlos finish repairs to his sister's house — not without landing two hard punches in the face of his brother-in-law who dared to complain about the noise. He needed to prepare, As it was the first night of the full moon, the effects would be more intense, and he needed to prepare his body and mind to allow the beast to command him.

As night fell, Carlos felt the involuntary spasms and his gums itched, the bones in his legs and arms cracked painfully, anticipating the metamorphosis.

And of course, the sensation increased along with the discomfort, the beast inside him scratched the walls, howling as if it was foretelling something. Maybe it was the villagers appearing on the edge of their land, maybe it was the witches who had returned, it could be anything.

Any damn thing.

When the transformation, he began to run between the trees, smelling the wet grass, the animals nestled in their dens, Carlos felt the wet earth under his feet and when he realized it, he was running on four legs, his peripheral vision was greater and his sense of smell could perceive things dozens of meters away.

He stopped abruptly and howled at the full moon, announcing the arrival of his birthday. That morning Carlos had turned thirty and there was nothing like fresh venison to celebrate.

He sniffed the air, searching for his prey and licked his sharp teeth when he caught the scent of a fox lurking in the bushes. The huge wolf followed the scent into the clearing, his eyes fixed on the distracted fox, he was about to pounce when a different scent filled the air.

The sweet scent of lavender and lemon hit his nose like a blow, disorienting the lycanthrope and he turned his skull, searching for the source of the smell and It wasn't long before the leaves on the far edge of the clearing parted and revealed a girl. Up close, her scent was more striking, more mystical.

Witch.

He growled, angry that she had disrupted his hunt and stirred his senses. His heart was pounding and he studied the girl, she was running away and looked terrified, the witch was sweating under her thick cloak and breathing quickly, her eyes scanning the trees and the wolf knew she was aware of his presence.

He could hear her heart beating and the wind started to blow again, carrying her scent to him and he growled, torn between wanting to smell her up close and killing her.

Werewolves had been killing witches since the beginning of time and his nature insisted that he rip out the girl's little neck. She pulled out a small metal dagger and he grunted with laughter, the little witch really thought an iron dagger would stop him.

He was eager to see her try.

With a powerful leap, the werewolf stopped in front of her, seeing her gasp in fright, her heartbeat increasing to the point of occupying all of the creature's sensitive hearing.

That was his feeling, somehow someone would die that night, either him or the little witch, after all that was the final outcome — regardless of how many ages his existence could drag on, at some point he would die. And the little witch too.

After all, all creatures are born to die.

But fate changed its course along with the path of the wind as soon as the wolf met the witch's eyes.

That could only be a bad joke from the Moon.

[theocddiaries]

Maddie: Hey, baby, Tom and I saw your birthday is coming up. Wanna do somethig special? Shadow: No. Tom: Um… You sure? We can do anything you want. Shadow: I don't celebrate my birthday. Sonic: Shut up. Yeah, you do. Everyone does. Shadow: Not me. It's no big deal. It's the way I was raised. Back on the ARK, only my achievements were celebrated. My creation wasn't my achievement, but the Professor's. Tails: Wait, so you never--Like… had a celebration? Shadow: On my achievements, yes, I did. Tails: No, I meant-- Shadow: For example, if I didn't move much on the operation table or performed adequately, I'd get one hour to do whatever I liked. The family: … Shadow: Sometimes, the Professor even game me a whole package of coffee beans. Sonic: Yes? And how did he title his research paper? "My god complex has gone so far now I hate my creation too and so he can't ever have cake"?

[nellielsss]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Tσʝι'ʂ Bιɾƚԋԃαყ… αɳԃ ƚԋҽ Nҽɯ Yҽαr!

Summary: it's your man's birthday--and the new year! What better to reign in the new year by celebrating both? And at a festival no less! Ft: Toji Zen'in/Fushiguro CW: mentions of child abuse (pertaining to Toji) Note: two fics in the span of a week?! How amazing is that! Also I can't believe 2025 is already gonna be this week!!! Happy birthday to my #1 man everybody ☺️ Also this isn't proofread since I wanted to get it out before I'd be too busy to finish it in time, so there might be grammatical errors!!

To be quite honest, the New Year was yet another one of those holidays that Toji didn't give a shit about. Christmas, New Year's, Golden Week... none of those were anything memorable to Toji growing up. Why would he care when he had more important things to care about, like getting out of his shitty family and his shitty living situation? Why buy presents for people when he had nobody to buy said presents for and could just spend the money on horse racing instead? It was a no brainer for him, obviously. Just get through the week, swallow all those stupid "Happy New Year!"s from the stupid drunkards passing him by, and get on with his day.

And what was so special about the new year? The earth passed around the sun for another year--so fucking what? Everybody dies in the end anyway. People should loathe there being another year, because it means one year closer to death. January was also a shitty month on its own, so there was that.

There was also the fact that it was his birthday.

The painful reminder that he was put on this earth 20-something years ago, that his parents were stupid enough to not wear a condom or pull out that resulted in him being born into this equally stupid world. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid--all of this was so stupid. His birthday, the new year... he really couldn't give a shit.

But that didn't mean you couldn't care about both things!

The way you saw it, it was another year on this earth where the sun didn't explode and there wasn't a nuclear war that destroyed everything; and Toji's birthday meant that he had another year to look forward to being alive. That was just the kind of person you were: uplifting, vibrant, and always seeing the good in everybody and everything, especially your boyfriend.

(You didn't actually see the good in everyone; that was just a figure of speech. Plus, your boyfriend had a lot of good to see!)

This means that, for the past 2 years you've been together, you've gone all out for both holidays, dragging him to holiday festivals and making a day out of his special day, buying him presents when he didn't feel worthy of receiving such thoughtful items.

He's never even had a present from someone who wasn't his handler, and that's because he was contracted to him. All he's received is beatings and hateful words from his family, who made sure to make a nightmare out of what was supposed to be his special day. So, it didn't strike you as surprising when he cried his eyes out when he got his first present, but all of that was another story for another day.

So, here you were, putting on Toji's special black haori that you bought for him on one special day. It went perfectly with the dark green kimono that went perfectly with his dark green eyes. "Don't you look handsome, handsome," you mused, smoothing out the dark fabric.

He rolled his eyes and tried to play the compliment off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm not much of a fan of this kinda stuff anyway. 'Much prefer the sweats and tee I always got on."

"The ones you end up ripping while out on your job?" You teased, poking his chest with a long, manicured nail. "I can't have my boyfriend running around in rags. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I did, hmm?"

Toji snorted in response. "Hey, sweets, I'm the boyfriend here. Aren't I supposed to be the responsible one, spoiling you instead?"

"I guess I'm a fan of both," you shrugged earnestly. You stepped back after his haori was put on, and you went to look at yourself in the mirror with a big, confident smile on your face. The pink flowers on your red kimono went perfectly with all the little hairpins on your head, and the geta sandals you wore almost made you tall enough to not be dwarfed by the hulk of a man that your boyfriend was.

While admiring yourself in the mirror, Toji approached behind you and wrapped his massive arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "'N I'm a fan of you, sugar," he grinned with earnestness. "This color, especially. And all those cute little flowers you got in that hair of 'yers."

"Don't mess up my hair, Toji," you chastised him when he tried to play with the little pins. "One wrong move, and your 'sugar' won't be so sweet anymore."

He chuckled, shook his head, and walked away from you. "Right, right. Wouldn't want that happenin' anytime soon." He grabbed your purse and handed it to you, then wrapped the fur collar you had laid out around your neck. "And I wouldn't want you to catch a cold, either."

"Why, thank you, handsome," you giggled softly. "You ready to go?"

"Always if it involves you." He took your hand in his much larger one, pressed a kiss to the back of it, and led you out of the closet and the house.

Said festival that you dragged him to was just as amazing as always. The minute you got there, you dragged him to the first stand that you saw and played a game of ball toss (which he let you win, obviously; you didn't stand a chance at beating his assassin aim, and he'd much rather see you win than him), ate some takoyaki, and ran around doing whatever you two wanted to do.

"Let's go play that game next!" Was what you always said after every last game, dragging him around by the wrist with an unseen strength.

"Make sure my hand doesn't get yanked off first, doll," he chuckled simply.

At the dart toss, he decided to show off for you a little bit. What was the fun in simply rolling over belly-up when he can A. flex his biceps and B. show off his aim? He'd trained it for so long, so why not show off a bit? Each dart hit the bullseye, and he won you a giant New Year's special Hello Kitty plushie.

Which he ended up holding for you. You weren't lifting a finger, not while he was around.

Each game, each food stand, each little thing the both of you did only made the night more & more fun. He could definitely get used to celebrating his birthday and the New Year by playing silly little games and eating little delicacies here and there.

"Here, try this one!" You held up a bit of squid for him to try, and you fed it to him with your chopsticks. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing with your mouth stuffed, hmm?"

He narrowed his eyes at you with the food in his mouth and tried to say "shut yer trap" but instead sounded like he was muttering gibberish, resulting in you simply laughing and hugging him quickly.

Around you, the snow began to fall a bit more amidst the glow of the New Years lanterns, and all the little kids started to cheer for the specks of white snowflakes. Now, Toji wasn't a man who was hung up on the idea of starting a family, but it felt like a glimpse into the future that the two of you were going to build.

He didn't even feel worthy of having kids or a happy life in the first place. All those years of trauma, of being hit like a hurt dog & called a shit-stain on this earth had taken root in his brain, and digging them out felt like a job for an expert gardener (of which he was nothing of the sort), but with you, the light of his life, the angel of his salvation...

"Toji!"

You snapped him out of his little thought tangent and smiled at him. "Come, I wanna give you a present."

He grinned cheekily and let you lead him to a secluded area. "Oh? You finally gonna gimme that kiss you've been dangling over my head for so long?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, handsome," you chided with a little giggle. "It's something much more special than a simple kiss. Besides, haven't I given you enough kisses for the day?"

"Have some sympathy for the birthday boy, dollie," he said while clutching his chest dramatically.

You turned to the side, taking something out of the purse you'd brought with you. "I made this just for you, Toji." You handed him a little book and waited with an expectant smile on your face.

"Y'know I don't read much, sweets- ow!" He didn't anticipate the little flick of the forehead he received for that comment.

"Just open it already," you pouted impatiently.

It was a small book with a thick cover & back--more cover than book if anything, so this was definitely not an ordinary book. Turning the book open, his eyes lit up when he saw the little pop-up that came out of the pages.

In the little pop-up book, there were photos of you together ordered by date and event. There was the first time you met, your first official date, the milestones you'd completed as a couple...

In the back of the book was a small note that contained your elegant handwriting and read:

"Dear Toji, dear my future husband, dear the best thing that's ever happened to me! I'm not very good with words, but to put it simply: I am so incredibly grateful to be your sweetheart. To think that we're already celebrating your birthday again (and yet another new year!) is mind-boggling, to say the least. Time really does flow by when you're with the people you love. Your strength, your resilience, your self-confidence and willingness to grow and change despite all that's happened to you is an inspiration, and I find myself growing and changing along with you. Happy birthday, and happy new year!! Love, your sweetheart."

He didn't even notice the tears that were streaming down his face until the paper got noticeably wetter. He put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from sobbing, and he shakily closed the book. "Dollie, this is..."

"Hey, hey, big guy," you comforted him carefully, knowing how emotional he got sometimes. "It's okay to cry, y'know. It's okay to cry around me."

You encircled your arms around him and let him crush you in turn with his much larger ones, and you let him cry into your hair.

"This is... the b-best gift I've ever gotten," he admitted, muffled by the strands of your hair. "Thank you... thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so fuckin' much, I don't know what to do with myself sometimes."

"It's alright, you don't need to know what to do all the time," you reassured him, looking up at him when he pulled away from your hair. "You just need to know that it's okay to let others take the wheel, yeah?"

He nodded, wiping his tears with the back of his sleeve. "Got me cryin' like a little bitch here," he said, chuckling chokingly.

"And you're not a little bitch," you reminded him by flicking his forehead. "You're Toji, my Toji. No amount of tears will ever change that."

"Aye aye, dollie," he joked, even saluting you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and snorted. "C'mon, let's go write our wish for the New Year before the clock strikes twelve, 'kay?"

At the shrine in the center of the festival, the two of you took two things of paper and went to the shrine. You both turned from each other to keep things a secret, although it's not much of a secret when you both wrote "a happy life with my future wife/husband" on your papers.

Once written, you both hung them up and walked away from the shrine. "So, what'dya write, dollie?" He asked, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"It defeats the purpose if I tell you what I wrote, genius," you retorted (with another sassy look from your end).

"Guess you're right," he shrugged. He pulled back his kimono sleeve to eye the time, and he realized it was already 11:52 and the new year was about to arrive sooner than he'd expected. "Shit, guess it's gonna be 2025 real soon, ain't that right?"

"Time flies when you're having fun with your man," you giggled cheekily.

He reached around and smacked your ass real quick after you said that. "And ain't that right as well," he replied with an equally cheeky grin.

As the minutes ticked by, you thought about how incredibly blessed you were to have each other in your life. You'd started and were about to end the year with each other, at the same festival that you'd attended last year. He used to hate sameness and repetition, always searching for something to spice things up...

But he didn't need to search for anything when he had you.

Turns out, the only thing he needed to spice up his life was someone who could give him the stability he so desperately craved and needed to survive.

He was so used to turbulence, to not getting a day nor night's rest, that he'd forgotten to stop and smell the roses.

"Five, four, three, two, one!" Those numbers caught him off guard, but he didn't have to worry when you kissed him right as the new year rang in.

"Happy New Year!"

© nellielsss on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 12/31/2024

[seresinhangmanjake]

For the Drabble!

How would Jake react if eve starting only asking for you and would cry if Jake picked her up?

Dad!Jake Seresin x female reader

words: 1250 (this kind of took on a life of its own and expanded way past the ask, but this is where my head went)

Oh Baby series

So I picture this under a very specific circumstance, that being like, Eve is three now and has a decent understanding of stuff. 

She's in preschool and knows all about her parents' jobs and brags to her friends about how her daddy is the coolest because he's a pilot and she's going to be a pilot one day too. Basically believing her dad is the bravest guy and has the most important job in the whole wide world, until Jake and Mama sit her down one day and explain to her that Daddy is going to be gone for a bit, and he'll be missing some important event or something to Eve. Like maybe she believes in half-birthdays and convinced her parents to have a little three-person celebration for being three and a half. But now Jake won't be able to be there and so Eve is devastated and sobs all night, but that sobbing turns into anger because she just can't believe Daddy would leave her and Mama for so long (even though he has no choice).

Jake has a couple days before he has to go and Eve has pretty much been giving him the silent treatment, thinking he certainly wouldn't leave her while she's upset. So she's grumpy and stubborn all the time, especially when Jake tries to pick her up from school or tuck her in at night, and no way will she let him hold her without throwing a fit and asking for Mama instead. 

Then it's like the night before he has to go. Jake's miserable because he thinks his daughter hates him though you tell him that's not true. And he's uncharacteristically terrified that something might happen to him, that he won't ever see Eve with a smile on her face the way he is so used to seeing his baby girl. 

You tell him to go try to talk to Eve one more time, so he goes upstairs to her playroom where she's playing with her toy planes, and he crouches down beside her and says "Baby girl, I'm so sorry." He tries to touch her shoulder but she scoots away and turns her back to him and Jake just sighs, drops his head, and whispers "I love you, baby girl. Always." Then kisses the top of the blond curls, the same honey shade has his own, and leaves to join you again. 

Immediately by the look on his face, you know your little girl did not cut her father any slack. And you're so heartbroken for the both of them (and yourself honestly, because Jake leaving destroys you each time). So you walk him to the door and he kisses you for what feels like forever. And you don't want to let him go but you know you don't have a choice, so you unwrap yourself from around him and let him grab his bag before he starts over to his truck. 

But then you hear little, rapid footsteps, and you turn to see Eve carefully holding the railing of the staircase, moving down as quickly as she can while still keeping in mind Jake's stair safety rules. Then, like a little speed demon, she sprints past you out the door, screams "Daddy!" in such a desperate wail, and runs right into his legs, clinging to him like a koala to a tree. 

Then you start sobbing because she's already sobbing and Jake's got tears on his cheeks as he drops his bag and lifts his daughter into his arms, holding her as tightly as she is him. And he's kissing her cheek and whispering in her ear, likely promises that he'll come back, because there's no way he won't do everything he can to return to his family. 

When he looks at you, you completely lose it, because your husband is leaving, and you and Eve are really going to have to be each other's support to get through the coming months. So you walk over to them and kiss him and hug him so Eve is squished between you. 

But then he has to go. He doesn't have a choice. And trying to remove Eve from him is as hard as prying a drilled in nail from a sturdy wall with only your fingernails. 

When he's gone, Eve pulls on your hand so you can watch his truck drive away. She won't leave until she can no longer see it—not that you would dare leave either—and when you do finally get her inside, you give her the special ice cream you bought in preparation for your hearts hurting. You feed her a big bowl, and you watch her, knowing this is her first true heartbreak; the first of more to come. 

At bedtime, you tuck her in beside you, because you don't want to be alone either. She manages to sleep, fully emotionally exhausted, but you just stare at her little face in the dim glow of the moonlight, and you run your knuckle over her cheek like you've done since she was born, and you promise your girl that you'll make it through this; after all, you'd both done it before, she was just too young to remember. 

Every day. Every single day, Eve mentions her Daddy. Asks about him or tells a story about him or promises that when he gets back she's going to take him to Disneyland "because he should get a surprise present when he comes home." You agree. 

When you get your first video chat with him, Eve is bouncing on your lap, waiting for his face to pop up. She tells him every little thing that's happened at school. Her best friend got a new doll and she wants the same one but only if it can also come with a pilot outfit. The butterflies they'd been taking care of in class were finally released. She tried to name them all after the Daggers but the teacher said the whole class had to agree on the names, which she thought was "stupid." You scold her for her language, but you're chuckling a bit too. Then she says her teacher is having a baby, and "when are you and Mama gonna have another baby?" She wants a brother. 

When you tell her to go play—really so you can get a few minutes alone with your husband—he asks about that baby boy too, and you promise when he comes home, you'll work on it (after the surprise trip to Disney, of course. Or maybe during). 

You tell him you love him so damn much. He tells you the same. 

You meet him when he comes back, and when Eve spots him, she rushes off, weaving through other families to get to him. You catch up and you're crying because they're stuck together like glue, and that's all you ever wanted for them. He sets his baby girl down for a moment to kiss you in a way that manages to scratch the surface of all the pent-up need you have for each other. Then he picks his baby girl back up, and you go home. 

You watch movies and eat ice cream and when it's bedtime, Jake tucks Eve in after about a half hour of her talking his ear off. He loves it though, because he loves her and he missed her sweet voice so much. 

Then he joins you and you work on releasing all of that pent-up need and desire. And you're just about to fall asleep in each other's arms when you whisper "by the way, Eve is taking us to Disneyland."

---

A/N: this was my manic brain spilling thoughts

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie

[yesimwriting]

how old are they? (best friend!felix x reader)

short answer: felix is late 19/20, reader feels late 17/18 (i like the thought of reader having skipped a grade bc one of her main insecurities is constantly wanting to seem older bc being mature is the one thing her dad prasied her for)

elaboration below the cut!!

i saw a picture of Saltburn's script that says felix is supposed to be 20,, ig that could be wrong bc of editing/verification,,

i don't remember his age ever being explicitly stated in the movie though, but i feel like it's implied (through his status/familiarity in an on campus routine) that he's not a first year/a little bit older than oliver, but i do picture felix as 20 (maybe late 19 if i ever want to write a blurb where reader and felix are celebrating his birthday)

also it just feels like a good age for him! just starting to get his foothold in the adult world, enough youthful idealism still in his system to want to make someone as "tragic" as oliver his project when a safer choice would have been someone a little shinier,, and just as he's leaving his teenage years behind, he dies (ironically and arguably bc of the youthfully naive concepts his family life would have encouraged him to keep into adulthood) :(

so now instead of being forever 20 bc of his comfortable life style, he's forever 20 bc he has to be,, in a way oliver got to know the only version of felix he would ever know but i digress

bestfriendreader feels like a 17/18 year old freshman to me (hear me out),, i like reader as a freshman bc it's one more thing that should make reader feel closer to oliver,, but she just doesn't, which adds to their dynamic that i haven't shared much of but i will!!

also,, i see bestfriend!reader as someone that's spent their entire life hanging out with people a little older, constantly striving to seem more mature/be a grown up bc her mom's a free spirit and her dad only praises her when she handles his disappointments "like an adult"

also something about bestfriend!reader being on campus for like two weeks, hearing every story on earth about felix and his friends that he's more of an enigma than person (campus celebrity vibes) that she doubts is that impressive until he sits down next to her in class and starts talking is cute idk,, like reader not even realizing how big a deal felix's interest in her is until one of her friend's is like dude.

it's the kind of luckiness that oliver originally hates her for,, reader walked onto campus,, new to oxford,, new to the country, and still manages to snag felix's attention without even trying

idk if the age gap is weird tho😭 (i'm 20 rn and would never date a 17/18 year old but my best friend is 18, started college at 17 bc she was ahead a year and when she was that age she dated 19/20 year olds that went to school with her and that didn't feel weird bc they have enough in common bc of their setting) sooo i'm open to reader having an early enough birthday that she's 18 by the time her and felix get close,, i like the idea of writing a birthday fic anyway lol