#or maybe a park ranger!

[anakinsthot]

oooo i would love to prompt you from that duolingo list:

"how did you lose your phone?" OR "please take my jacket."

for (she pretends she likes any other pairing over obikin) i guess...obikin?

How did you lose your phone (like I could write anything other than obikin, let's be real here lol) Please enjoy this silly little meet cute.

(1k)

Obi-Wan had thought he was being subtle, watching the man at the end of the bar from the corner of his eye. The brunet had been playing pool all evening. He’d absolutely devastated everyone who tried to challenge him, pulling trick shots and showing off the whole time. His arms, biceps bulging in a shirt that was at least one size too small, had captivated Obi-Wan immediately. When Obi-Wan had managed to drag his eyes away from the man’s long fingers wrapped around the wooden cue and the ripple of muscles under golden skin, he’d found his face equally entrancing.

“Here, take this and then go talk to him already,” the bartender says with a smile, pushing a shot glass across the countertop to Obi-Wan. ”You’ve been pining all night.”

Obi-Wan flushes. Apparently he wasn’t as subtle as he thought. He’d usually say no but, two and a half drinks in, it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Making up his mind, he takes the shot, wincing as the burn of cinnamon whiskey slides down his throat, and slams the glass back onto the counter.

“Thanks,” he flashes a smile at the bartender, “wish me luck.”

She snorts and turns away, taking an order from a couple that had just wandered in.  

Obi-Wan takes the cocktail glass he’d been sipping and swirls it nervously as he makes his way to the end of the bar. There’s an open stool next to the beautiful pool player, and he slides onto it quietly.

“Hello there.”

The man tilts his head towards Obi-Wan with a curious look on his face. “Hi? If you wanted to play a game you’ll have to come back this weekend, I’m done for the night.”

“No,” Obi-Wan laughs. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be a challenge at all. I just wanted to talk to you.” He flashes his most charming smile.

“See, everyone who says that usually has a few tricks up their sleeve,” the man says, turning to fully face him. “You look like you know how to handle a few balls.”

Obi-Wan chokes on the drink he’d just taken. The stranger watches him struggle with a bemused smile, eyebrows wrinkling. Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan rallies and looks up at him from under his eyelashes. “Well, a different kind of balls, but I’m told I’m pretty good.”

“Oh? What sport do you play?” the younger man asks earnestly. “Please don’t tell me golf, you don’t look that boring.” He pauses for a second to flag the bartender over. “I’m Anakin, by the way.”

Crestfallen that the man actually wants to talk about sports, Obi-Wan orders another drink from the woman as well. “I’m Obi-Wan,” he says after taking a moment to finish the remains of his first cocktail. “I play in a local tennis league.”

The bartender sets their drinks in front of them and sends Obi-Wan a sympathetic smile. The drink, when he tries it, is much stronger than his previous one. She must be able to tell how poorly his attempts at flirting have gone, he thinks.

Anakin scoots closer to the edge of his stool, his knees bumping against Obi-Wan’s. “That’s cool,” he says. “My sister plays tennis too. She’s tried to get me to play but I swear whenever we play she hits me on purpose. She says I’m just not good at it, of course,” Anakin laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Obi-Wan’s spirits lift and he jumps at the chance to turn the conversation around. “Maybe you just need to learn to play with the right partner,” he suggests.

Anakin hums and leans towards Obi-Wan. “Are you offering to teach me?”

Obi-Wan can’t help but notice how impossibly blue Anakin’s eyes are as he bats his eyelashes coyly. He loses his train of thought for a moment, alcohol and desire clouding his mind.

“Darling, I’d love to teach you,” Obi-Wan closes the space between them until they’re just a hairsbreadth apart. “Let’s exchange numbers, you can text me and we can set up a date?”

“Oh, um. No, I can’t.”

Obi-Wan pulls back, smile dropping off his face. “I’m sorry if I’ve over-stepped.” He slides off the stool and puts a little space between them. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

A hand snags on his sleeve as Obi-Wan turns away.

“Sorry, I meant no, we can’t exchange numbers because I lost my phone.” Anakin eyes are wide as he stares at Obi-Wan.

“It’s ok, Anakin, you don’t need to make up an excuse.” Obi-Wan tries to tug himself free but Anakin’s hand curls tighter on his shirt.

“I really did lose it! Can’t you, like, write your number on a napkin or my arm or something?”

Obi-Wan steps back towards to him, hopeful that maybe he hasn’t completely misread the situation. “You might have to let go for me to write it down,” he says wryly.

Anakin blushes, but pulls Obi-Wan a little closer before releasing him. He reaches across the bar and snags a pen from a cup next to the cash register. He hands it to Obi-Wan before offering up his forearm as a blank canvas.

It feels a bit high school-ish to be writing his number on someone’s skin, but it makes Obi-Wan’s stomach jump a little nonetheless. Anakin’s skin is just as warm under his touch as he’d imagined. He writes carefully, making the lines as legible as he can.

“How did you lose your phone?” he asks curiously.

Anakin bites his lip. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Obi-Wan lets go of Anakin’s arm to curl their pinky fingers together. “Pinky promise,” he says solemnly.

“It’s kind of a long story, we should probably sit back down and order some food,” Anakin coaxes Obi-Wan back to his bar stool. When Anakin sits down himself he scoots even closer, one of his knees sliding between Obi-Wan’s. “So it started this morning when I was getting ready to go on a hike. I was trying out a new backpack, which won’t be getting a good review…”

[tomialtooth]

Dungeons and Dragons first came out in 1974 so it would be entirely possible for the cast of cold war to have sat down and played a game in the safehouse.

[trebuchet151]

This is jumping the queue bc some really cool people reblogged my last post of Corey and they escaped containment.

Updated sidestep design perpetual WIP

Sidestep days vs retribution. They're slowly reacquiring their self expression. Next book will probably be the full return of the scene/punk look

Bonus Corey sans most of their clothing to show off their tattoos under the cut. CW for healed SH scars

Yes that is Ortega's bedroom yes I half assed it. I drew this background in my car at work when it was like 110 degrees idgaf

[moocowofdoom]

Had a job interview today !!!!!

[aiyonstar]

First Meower Rangers post on this account 😋

Here's all the Rangers from MMPR - Zeo

GroveClan - Angel Grove, StoneClan - Stone Canyon, BrightClan - New Tech City

Wildtuft, Breezeclaw, Windleg, Lightfoot, and Hazelstrike, where all chosen by an ancient GroveClan Leader: Shieldstar (Zordon), to protect the Clan from the looming threat of MoonClan.

MoonClan is a faction within the Dark Forest run by Rosestar (Rita Repulsa) and later co-ran by her mate, Zinniastar (Lord Zedd). They want to see GroveClan fall just for fun, it's the first Clan they saw after being let out of their prisons so why not.

Dragonsoul, Rowanleap, Boulderberry, Curlystorm, Kindheart, and Honeysand all joined later as different teammates eventually left to move on with life.

After moving to GroveClan Boulderberry decided to not continue his path as a Medicine Cat and moved to pursue the life of a Warrior, though he does remeber ALL his Med Cat training just in case.

Wildtuft left GroveClan and joined a different Clan along with Hazelstrike and Windleg. Lightfoot soon joined him and the two became mates, having one kit: Heatherkit.

Lightfoot left when she felt that she was wasting her life doing this, she wanted to do other things than have to be depended on every day. She left to find Wildtuft.

Breezeclaw briefly left to join a small group of Fishing Cats before realising his heart belonged in GroveClan and returned, he still ventures out to meet them sometimes. He became leader after Applestar.

Windleg eventually returned to GroveClan to raise her daughter, Bristlekit, but sadly was later killed while protecting Breezestar from a Mountain Lion manifestation of Rosestar (the big bad).

Hazelstrike originally had no plans to return to GroveClan but ultimately came back to raise Bristlepaw, becoming her Adoptive Father.

Kindheart and Dragonsoul are sickingly sweet to be around, they're always happy around each other. Kindheart moved Clans with Dragonsoul when he decided he wanted to venture past GroveClan. In ReefClan they had two litter of one kit each: Lightkit and Wildkit.

Curlystorm left to become a kittypet mostly to learn how to care for her curly coat. When Rowanleap left GroveClan she became a loner with him before they joined BrightClan.

Despite being born in GroveClan her parents took her to a far off Tribe when she was a kit, but after they disappeared suddenly she ran away, ending back up in GroveClan.

[juniperhillpatient]

Can’t say I find leaving your partner & trying to save some random bitch you just met (who was holding a gun over a clear murder scene ?) after saying “get up” to said partner who has a fucking door on top of him & a bear on said door attacking then saying “get in!” as you drive away at top speed is a #feminist moment but ok lol

[outtaluckawoo]

in my fic i've officially decided to make wyatt the campground host and i just. can't stop thinking abt it. he'd be so eager and enthusiastic!! it's the perfect job for him. he'd wear his park ranger uniform shirt everywhere, unbuttoned or layered over hoodies and under sweaters. his favorite part of the job would be getting kids involved with nature, seeing the wonder in their eyes as they explore the forest and observe the wildlife. at the same time, though, he'd work to protect his pack's territory, keep campers away from the borders. ensure everything sacred is kept safe.

[rosanna-writer]

Maybe this is just a me thing, but I find it SO interesting how rarely ACOTAR modern AU fics feature Feyre hunting.

I get making her a painter or having her work crappy jobs under the table from a young age because poverty to modernize the situation in the cabin in canon. That makes sense to me because nobody is really out here subsistence hunting anymore.

But on the other hand, there's something about the hesitation to put Feyre in camo and orange and give her a shotgun that just makes me go "hmmmmm"

[multiicolor]

unrelated to jack for now but i really wanna nerd out and do more research for lilly on how wolves are kept in a park + how much interaction they usually have with rangers + etc etc.

[20mice]

Years of academy training, wasted.

[limblesstar]

yknow i’m not super interested in the thing i was writing for my oc but i’ll be damned if i don’t do something with the forest universe because. holy shit the concept was delightful

[hoothootmotherf-ckers]

can people please stop filming the entire fucking world around them for public consumption? and especially random fucking strangers who you did not ask???

I work at a park and man the front desk. and I'm photographed and filmed a lot. I'm talking easily 20+ times per day. most of the times, it's parents filming me swearing in their kids as junior rangers. which. they're intending to film their kids. what they get is me and the back of their kids' heads.

there's this recurring problem that like. people forget we're real people? like yeah you're filming your kid, but you're filming me interacting with your kid. I could count the amount of times someone has asked me permission to do this in the past year on one hand. and sometimes that's after they already start filming.

Like, I'm not an actor. I did not agree to this. You could be a dick and make the argument that I'm a public figure, but I'm not. This is not a persona and my uniform is not a costume. I'm a person trying to do my job and help people and teach them about science and history. And you know what makes it harder to do that? The knowledge that anything I say or do could end up shared with thousands of people. The fact that if I fuck up the wording of this kid's junior ranger pledge, or I sneeze, or make some basic mistake, it's not just a funny or embarrassing moment for me and this one family. It could end up on tiktok.

And okay, those are the people intending to film their own kids and not thinking or caring about the collateral. What's worse is the people who film everything. A few times a week some guy walks into the visitor center, phone already horizontal in front of their face, narrating what they're doing and seeing. They come up to the desk and ask me questions, phone in my face. They take wide establishing shots of the visitor center and every visitor in it. None of us agreed to this! None of these people consented to be in your youtube video! We are not the fucking set dressing of whatever travel instagram story you're making!

I don't know where I'm going with this. This is really only the tip of the iceberg. Sometimes people ask us to repeat what we just did - swear in their kid, or explain a detail, or hand them a fucking map - so they can get a second take, and they're already filming so if we say no we look like the asshole. Sometimes we're asked innocuous things like to point out a landmark, and next week there's a photo of us in the 15,000 member Rangers Pointing at Things facebook group (yep, real thing). One time my entire 45 minute evening program was filmed without my permission and I was informed after the fact. This happens all the time, and I'm giving park ranger examples, but this happens to so many people in service work or public positions every single fucking day.

I guess just, next time you go to film in a public space, take a second. Think about who you're about to film, if they agreed to that, what might happen if a video of them went viral. there's a reason I'm not out as trans at work. And then, maybe. don't. or at least fucking ask.

[mybumblebeeblr]

I remember getting the coolest NPS Pride shirt my first month working for the park service. It's not official uniform but employees of the park put an order together and are allowed to use the logos so it's got the right font and everything. It has a little rainbow ranger on the front and was maybe the first time I've ever felt pride for an organization i was working for.

Please read the article. If you have feelings and need to express them, please know NPS has all the social media Facebook Instagram Twitter Official Page. So does the Department of Interior which oversees the Park Service Facebook Instagram Twitter/X Official Page.

Do you have a favorite park?

Acadia Facebook Instagram official page

Yosemite Facebook Instagram official page

Grand Canyon Facebook Instagram official page

Yellowstone Facebook Instagram official page

Zion Facebook Instagram official page

National Mall Facebook Instagram official page

Stonewall Facebook Instagram official page

Chances are they have their own pages that accept comments as well. Hard to say whether they will be allowed to post Pride content this year, but if you're looking for a more positive approach keep an eye out for those posts and show your support in the comments.

The people who run the nps social media are generally really cool. If nothing else you can get some neat facts!!

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Breeding Habits of the Common Mothman

Kinktober Day 4: Oviposition

Mothman Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Noncon, oviposition, stalking, kidnapping, non-human genitals, general yandere behavior, sweet delusional yandere

Word Count: 526

(This wasn't beta read and I kinda rushed, sorry for any mistakes and hope you enjoy it!)

On your back with your legs resting on his fuzzy shoulders. Large red eyes staring hungrily into your fearful ones. Pleasure started to overtake the initial panic as his cock plowed you with lewd squelching noises for the whole forest to hear.

How did you find yourself in this situation? 

You were a park ranger. Your duties centered around keeping the forest safe. Mostly, this meant picking up litter, monitoring wildlife, preventing poaching, and a lot of keeping drunk fools from hurting themselves or lighting the forest ablaze.

It also meant being spied on by the mothmen. One in particular became fascinated with you, their leader.

He found himself spending most of his days watching you care for the forest, tending to it so diligently, defending it, and the creatures it housed. Fascination turned into obsession. You felt like something was watching you but dismissed it. There were plenty of animals in the woods. 

The mothman began fantasizing more and more about you having a belly fully of his eggs. He could no longer control himself. His dreams had to be a reality!

He was positive you would respond positively to him. Who would not want to have a nice big mate to protect them? He could help you protect the forest so you would have time to rest and breed lots and lots!

And that's how you ended up whisked away, taken into the pocket dimension of the mothmen. 

You kicked and screamed, but he didn't let go. He trilled and cooed to calm you as best he could. His poor mate was scared. 

He sat you down in his hovel, a hut made of silk, moss, mud, and branches. You were still scared, so he showed you his huge cock. He was very proud of it. Surely, seeing his wonderfully large mating tool would show that he was not a threat and merely intended to breed with you! What mate wouldn't be excited to have such a nice cock inside of them?

It seemed to just frighten you more, though. Did you not know what it was for? He supposed it looked different from a human's. Much larger, slimy, tapered, and normally sheathed. Or maybe you had never mated before and were nervous.

Either way, it was okay. He would show his darling human what it was for. You tried resisting him, your hands pressing against the soft, thick fur covering his hard abs. 

The mothman definitely showed you what it was for.

He cooed and trilled and hummed, praising you for taking his cock so well. Your toes curled, and eyes rolled back into your head as he slowly bred you over and over and over. Each of his orgasms deposited more and more of his eggs deeply into you.

You were such a perfect incubator! A nice, warm place for his eggs to hatch. With your caring and protective nature regarding nature, he was sure you would make an amazing parent. 

You seemed to enjoy his cock so much he let you fall asleep while warming it for him. He nuzzled, cuddled, and willed you to have sweet dreams as you rested. 

[punkshort]

Thank you Anon for this request!

A Deeper Purpose

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: Living in Jackson during the apocalypse doesn't do anything to curb your desire to have a child. The problem is, most of the men in town are unavailable... except for one.

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, breeding kink (given the request, obv), language, friends to lovers, mentions of anxiety, infertility, pregnancy, angst, pining, alcohol

WC: 3.4K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you first asked him, he thought you were crazy.

He stared at you in complete disbelief, his gaze flickering down to the drink in your hand, trying to recall how many you had to propose something so insane. But it was only one.

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"Mhmm," you said confidently. "I've thought about it for a long time. I want a baby and the men in this town are either taken or have the mental fortitude of a child," you joked nervously. "You're neither of those things. Besides... I trust you."

His eyes softened for a moment and he dropped his gaze to the table. You had known Joel for the better part of five years, and while at first he was brash and gruff, throughout countless patrols and fights against infected where you had to have each other's backs, you had grown rather close. Neither of you ever crossed the line past friendship, and you had never even thought about it until recently when your anxiety was keeping you up late at night, wondering if you would ever find a man and settle down to start a family.

It was a luxury in this life, to be sure. The population of Jackson wasn't very large, but in five years you had come to get a good read on most of its citizens. And you kept coming back to the same conclusion: the man for you was not there.

So after much thought and self-reflection, you worked up enough courage to get a drink with Joel after your route and ask him if he would be willing to give you a baby.

You followed up by telling him you would be solely responsible, that you would do all the work and he could be as involved in the child's life as much as he wanted to be, if at all, while he sat there dumbstruck.

Now he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck nervously as he weighed your proposal.

"Can I think 'bout it?" he finally asked.

"Oh, god, of course!" you exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise that he was considering it at all. "However much time you need."

But that was almost a month ago. Each day that passed you became more anxious, more impatient, and it was beginning to sour your mood.

On that particular day you were checking out the park rangers outpost hidden deep within the Wyoming forest. The building was up within the trees, providing the park rangers in the past a bird's eye view of the forest, and now it gives Jackson the same.

Joel was scribbling something in the log book while you strolled aimlessly around the cabin, opening and shutting drawers loudly, already knowing what was in them but just looking for something to do.

"Somethin' on your mind?" he mumbled over his shoulder, his focus still on the book.

"No," you said defensively, but when you angrily began to struggle with a window that refused to open, it became clear you were lying.

"Here, lemme help," he offered, dropping the pencil and walking to your side of the room.

"I'm fine, I don't need your help," you snapped, though you obviously did.

His hands gripped your shoulders and forcibly moved you out of the way before he took hold of the window and gave it a quick jerk, loosening the window in it's frame and finally allowing fresh air in.

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes before breezing past him.

"This attitude 'bout the window or 'bout what you asked me?" he challenged, stopping you dead in your tracks. Slowly, you spun around, unsure what to say.

"The window," you finally answered, then shifted your weight and shrugged. "Okay, maybe a little of both."

"Mhmm," he said, advancing toward you. "Thought so."

"Well... have you thought about it or are you just trying to come up with a nice way to say no?"

He frowned and propped his hands on his hips. "Now why d'you think it's a no?"

"Because you haven't said a single word about it in a month," you told him like the answer was obvious.

"Well maybe the answer's yes but I don't know how to casually bring up into polite conversation that I'm ready to knock up my goddamn friend!" he argued.

You stared at him, jaw hanging open in disbelief.

"Wait, really?" you whispered.

He nodded and scrubbed his palms over his face. "Yeah, I mean... if you still wanna or... whatever," he grumbled.

The first time was bad, to put it mildly. Your kisses were all teeth, chins and noses bumped together awkwardly. You had hoped once you got down to it that it would have gotten better, but you were wrong. Your rhythms were all off, you hit your head on the end table, and Joel nearly fell off the couch at one point. Needless to say, you didn't come. It was a miracle he did by the end of it.

Afterwards, you both sat there, catching your breaths and wondering if you made a huge mistake.

No, it wasn't a mistake. It was always a means to an end. Ultimately, it didn't really matter if the sex was good or not, the end result would be the same.

Still...

"I'm not usually that bad," you finally said, breaking the thick silence. He groaned and tipped his head back to rest on the couch.

"Me either. I swear, I ain't lyin'. I never usually..." he trailed off, rubbing his chin, deep in thought. "We'll try again. Back home. In a bed. That's the problem. It's gotta be, right?"

"Yeah," you nodded, not fully believing him but at that point, what could it hurt?

The next time was the following day at your home. It was a little better than the first time, but not by much.

"It doesn't matter, Joel," you assured him, tugging your blanket over your chest.

"Matters to me," he said defensively. "I'm too in my head or somethin'. It's still weird, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it's weird," you agreed.

"It's too planned out. Maybe it's gotta be more natural. More... spontaneous."

"Yeah," you agreed.

A couple evenings later one of the other men on patrol was having a bonfire at his home and invited a handful of others, you and Joel included.

Ten or so people sat around a roaring fire, tossing back whiskey and playing cards or swapping war stories. The alcohol made you feel warm and relaxed, your limbs as loose as your tongue when you joked around with the others, joining in on the teasing when a seasoned patrolman admitted to shooting off a crossbow at a leaf that fell just a little too loudly in the woods.

Then you felt a hand on the small of your back and you turned, your eyes glassy and face warm from the booze and the laughs. Joel stood beside you looking just as at ease as you and he gave you a knowing look.

For once, you were on the same page. Neither of you said a word.

You made your excuses, said your goodbyes, and slipped into the night. It was quiet, the rest of the town asleep, so it was easy to hear Joel's voice carry over the wind a few minutes later when he announced his departure, your heart skipping an excited beat in your chest.

He didn't hurry to catch up with you and you were glad. It helped. The anticipation built up on the walk home, and for the first time you felt a warmth bloom between your legs. Your fingers shakily worked your front door when you heard his steps growing closer, the crunching of gravel growing louder and louder until your door swung open and the squeak of old wood under his boots as he walked up your stairs echoed in your ears.

You didn't bother to turn the lights on. His hands were on your waist instantly, kicking the door closed behind him as his mouth crashed against yours with a groan. All you could hear was your shared breath and the rustling of fabric, each of you working to strip the other of their clothes as quickly as possible.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the spontaneity of it. Whatever it was, it was better. Oh, so much better.

Somehow you had made it to your bed and you had never been more grateful to have a small ranch home in your life. When he first pushed inside, you moaned and arched your back off the mattress and his teeth gently grazed your collarbone, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. Instantly, you found a rhythm. Your hips rolled to meet his at the perfect time, his hands squeezed and pinched your breasts while his tongue invaded your mouth, only sliding down to cup your ass when he sensed it was becoming too much.

"More," you moaned into his mouth, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He alternated between snapping and grinding his hips, the mix of sensations quickly bringing you over the edge.

You could feel the excitement in his body when he finally made you come. Like he was reenergized and focused, like he had finally accomplished what he set out to do.

"Come for me, Joel," you whispered in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. You could tell he was close by the way his muscles tensed and the deep groans emanating from his chest.

"Yeah? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?" he growled, the dirty talk sending a jolt of surprise through you. Before, he had been so quiet. This was new.

"Yeah," you whispered back, "want you to fuck a baby in me. I want everyone to see what you did to me."

He groaned so loudly you wondered if it could be heard from outside. His teeth sunk down into your shoulder when he came, muffled words being spoken into your skin as he shot thick ropes of his seed deep into your womb, only slowing when his legs began to shake and he collapsed on top of you with a huff.

"Fuck," he gasped, still trying to catch his breath on top of you. "That was..." he trailed off with a chuckle and you felt him swallow tightly. "That was much better."

"Yeah," you whispered, your eyes sliding shut as your fingers gently raked through his hair. You didn't even realize you were doing it or how intimate it seemed considering your arrangement, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he leaned into it a bit as he waited for his heartrate to slow.

Once he collected himself, he propped himself up on his hands and slowly eased out of you with a hiss.

"Can you hand me-"

"Yeah," he said, already knowing you were asking for the small, firm pillow you used last time to prop your hips up, and gave it to you. With a groan, he got to his feet and went to your bathroom while you tucked your knees against your chest, hoping you were getting the angle right.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he handed you a wet washcloth to use when you were done, then began to dress.

He glanced at your face, then your hips propped up in the air.

"You need anythin' else?"

"No, I think this'll do," you joked, and he chuckled before he stood.

"Alright then. See you tomorrow?"

"Yep," you said with a smile, then watched him as he left your bedroom and listened while he slid his boots back on and quietly shut the door behind him, leaving you all alone.

"Fuck, it better work this time," you muttered as you bounced up and down on Joel's lap, your hands digging into his shoulders for support as you slid up and down on his cock. His hands held your waist, guiding you while you rode him on his couch, his eyes transfixed on where you were connected.

"Gotta relax. I told you, it ain't gonna work if you stress yourself out," he replied, eyes still glued to the way his cock emerged from your clutch even wetter than before.

"It's been six months, Joel," you whined, but he shushed you by slanting his mouth over yours. He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't mind when you came to him each month with a look of dejection when your efforts inevitably failed. He felt bad for you, don't get him wrong, but he had grown very fond of the one week every month you found yourself wrapped around his cock.

His thumb found your clit and he felt you tense and your mind went blank. Perfect.

"'S'right," he murmured, watching your face go slack, "just turn off that pretty little head of yours for a minute and lemme take care of you."

You nodded, eyes sliding shut as your hips began to work faster, rolling and grinding down on him until your nails dug into his skin and you cried out his name. Fuck, he loved hearing that. It didn't take much more for him to come, his hands gripping your sides so tight, he was afraid he might leave bruises as he thrusted up into you, giving you every last drop of his release.

"Goddamn," he whispered, head falling back onto the couch as he panted for air.

"Shit," you gasped, voice a little cracked. "Shoulda finished with me laying down. It's gonna leak out when -"

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you and, still plugging you with his cock, twisted around so you were laying flat on the couch and he was hovering above you.

"Better?"

"Much," you giggled, playing with a stray curl over his ear. You gazed warmly at one another, neither of you saying a word as your pulse slowed and his cock softened.

"Thank you for doing this for me, Joel," you whispered, your eyes drifting all over his face, taking in every little detail.

He nodded and swallowed then forced himself to look away. If he didn't, he was worried you would see too much.

He slid out of you and grabbed a pillow, handing it to you blindly before standing and strolling to his bathroom. After he cleaned up, he leaned over his sink, hands curled around the cracked vanity, and stared at his reflection in the mirror with a pit in his stomach.

How did he let this happen?

He should have known. The morning before you came over, he had a bad feeling. Like something had shifted in the air, something had changed without his permission and it left an empty feeling in his chest.

The overly excited knock on his door as he sipped his coffee almost made him want to pretend he wasn't home, that you weren't about to bounce into his kitchen holding two white sticks with a huge grin plastered across your face. But he didn't, and you did.

Either he really sold his reaction to your news well or you were too elated to notice his heart being ripped from his chest.

It was over. You were pregnant, and you no longer needed him. You would no longer come by every month and keep his bed warm. You would no longer share breakfast with him or talk to him about the books you were reading. He would go back to being utterly and completely alone.

It took a good month or two, but he adjusted back to his normal life. You still did patrol runs with him, which he protested, but when you finally began to show around five months, you agreed to stop and found a different job in town, instead.

That made his chest crack back open. Now he hardly ever saw you. It was bad enough he didn't get to be with you, taste you, fuck you anymore, but now he didn't even get to hear your voice. Occasionally he would see you in the dining hall or in the street and you would always talk to him, but it wasn't the same. Meanwhile, you walked around Jackson with his child growing in your belly, your shirts straining against the swell of your womb, the life he put inside you blooming before everyone's eyes. And all he wanted to do was claim you, right there in the center of town for everyone to see. For everyone to look in awe at what the two of you had created together.

One evening he was sitting alone in front of his fire, sipping whiskey and staring blankly into the flames. He had a decent life, considering the circumstances. So why couldn't he just be happy?

Then a rap came at his door. Urgent and loud. He placed his tumbler down and quickly went to open it, surprised to find you waiting on the other side.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, one hand over your round stomach. His eyes dropped down to take you in before he met your gaze again.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you replied with a look on your face that told him you didn't realize he would obviously panic about your wellbeing at this point in your pregnancy. "Sorry, I just - can I come in?"

"Yeah, 'course," he said, stepping aside to open the door wider. You toed off your boots and shrugged off your jacket, allowing him to take it from you and hang it up before you wandered into his living room. Your eyes fell on his abandoned glass and you smiled.

"I miss drinking," you said longingly. He grinned and, leaving the whiskey where it was so as not to tempt you, sat on the couch.

"What're you doin' here so late? Is the baby okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded, tearing your eyes away from the glass and sitting down near him on the sofa. "Baby's good. I just was thinking about you and I wanted to see you."

He perked up at that, he couldn't help himself. "Oh, yeah?"

You grinned and bit your lip shyly before looking away. "I miss you, I guess."

A smile spread wide across his face. "Aw, how sweet."

You swatted an arm out to smack him on the shoulder and he laughed, his heart finally feeling like it was mending a bit.

"Jerk," you muttered, and he laughed again.

"I missed you, too," he finally admitted, his cheeks rosy from the fire and the whiskey as he gazed at you, the reflection from the flames making your skin glow. Maybe it was that pregnancy glow that everyone used to talk about. Or maybe you always glowed and he just never allowed himself to notice until it was too late.

He watched your throat work, swallowing dryly while your fingers fidgeted in your lap and he realized you were nervous.

"What if I told you I missed you as more than just friends?" you whispered, your eyes pinned to the floor, unwilling or unable to meet his gaze.

His breath caught in his throat. Surely, he must have misheard you. But then you finally turned to look at him, tears welling in your eyes, and his heart lurched in his chest.

"What if I told you I'm in love with you?" he bravely whispered back.

Your eyebrows pinched together and your face crumpled before you reached forward, curling your arms around his neck and pulling him close, your lips pressing together earnestly before opening your mouth and letting his tongue lick behind your teeth.

He wasn't sure how you both made it upstairs and into his bed. He couldn't remember peeling your clothes off, one by one, revealing more and more of your changing body to him for the first time. But he did remember seeing your bare, swollen belly underneath him while his hand slowly slid across your skin in wonder. And then he felt it. A little flutter. A little jolt. And he looked up at you in surprise.

"She's kicking," you explained, and his eyes fell back to your stomach.

"She?"

You nodded, placing your hand over his lovingly. "I think it's a girl."

He smiled as tears began to cloud his vision, then bent forward to press a kiss against your stomach, letting his lips linger so hopefully his unborn daughter could feel him there and feel the love he had for her.

You had to pull him away by his shoulders, the both of you laughing softly, unable to believe how much things had changed in just a year.

Because not only were you a couple months away from finally being a mother, but you also realized you were very, very wrong all those months ago.

The man for you was, in fact, right there all along.

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[xiaq]

I want an AU where Steve is a werewolf and Eddie is a vampire except neither of them know about the other.

Eddie is the frontman of an up and coming band, but he's left his coven and surrounded himself with humans. They perform after sunset anyway so it's easy enough for him to hide his nature.

Steve has similarly left his toxic family pack and built his own pseudo-pack through the kids. He works as a park ranger. Or an ornithologist. Or something else nature-y/nerdy. But no one knows about his furry little secret.

Maybe Steve ends up attending a concert with one of the kids who has VIP passes and Eddie zeros in on Steve immediately at the meet and greet because he's pretty and preppy and delightfully out of place and also he smells good. And Steve is having similar thoughts, but he tries to play it off because there's no way an honest to god rock star would be interested in him and his polo and his boat shoes (also his hearing is temporarily fucked from the concert, so he doesn't register Eddie's lack of heartbeat).

After some light flirting, Eddie invites Steve back to his hotel and Steve is like, you know what? Yes. I am going to have a one night stand with the gorgeous front man of a metal band and I'll probably fall a little in love with him by the end of the night and it will break my heart when he kicks me out in the morning, but it will be an experience. Let me go drop off my kids and I'll be right back.

Except what he doesn't know is Eddie is planning to have a little snack while they're in the throes of passion––not enough to hurt Steve or anything, just enough that he'll have a pleasurable blackout and wake up tired but sated.

The only problem is that neck-biting (that breaks the skin) for wolves is the equivalent of marriage.

So when Eddie bites Steve, instead of a venom-drunk human, peacefully slipping into sleep in his arms, he gets a very horny, very confused, werewolf who is now insisting that they're married.

I can't decide if it would be funnier if Wolves/Vampires didn't know about each other, Ie:

"You're a Werewolf?" Eddie says, "What do you mean you're a werewolf? Werewolves exist? No. Shut up. Prove it."

And:

"Holy shit. A vampire. Vampires are real," Steve reaches for Eddie's face and Eddie is so baffled by the everything of this situation that he lets Steve pinch Eddie's top lip and peel it up off his fangs for a mortifyingly long moment. Eddie draws the line when he starts poking at Eddie's incisors, though.

"Why do I feel funny?" Steve mutters. "Will your venom kill me?"

"How should I know," Eddie hisses, only a little hysterical, "I didn't know wolves existed until two minutes ago, I've never bitten a wolf before."

"And you won't be biting any others, mister. Infidelity is not ok."

The other option is that wolves and vamps DO know about each other but stay so isolated in their covens and packs (and loners are super unusual) that they never interact. So Steve and Eddie are both like, dang, I'd been raised to think all of your kind were smelly/ugly/gross, but you uh, don't fit into that box at all. Weird.

Regardless, Steve (still naked, probably) crosses his arms all huffy, like, "well, we're married now, you're not going to bite me and then cast me aside like some harlot," and Eddie is like "...I'm weirdly ok with this, actually. No arguments here." And eventually they live happily ever after.