#remember when he kissed the dying child

[roserosanna]

I have to thank him… for everything…

[panharmonium]

i’m re-watching house md right now and i can’t stop thinking about how glad i am that i originally watched it fifteen years ago when fandom still lived on lj, because if it were airing nowadays in this particular fandom culture i don’t think i would survive the experience

[acid-ixx]

You know what would be a good add for you yan bat fam fic? We refer to our father as Bruce! We don’t call him dad or wtv we call him by his name sense we don’t see him as a dad!

I can just imagine the heartbreak look on Wayne’s face!! Ooo even better if we call him by his last name!

a/n: this !! it's already hinted at during chapter one that you literally despise writing bruce wayne as your father in legal documents and even hated him to the point of changing your last name back to your mother's after your eighteenth birthday. the angst potential was stated in this drabble so it's something i had already expanded on but i love talking about my plans for the story so yk. this is basically the reader disowning their own father LMAO. p.s. one of the paragraphs here would be used for the next chapter !!

bruce knows that you have every right to not even refer to him as your father— he is way beyond unworthy to be called "dad" or "father" or any parental name you had in mind. but he wishes you have a sliver of love to even refer to him as "bruce" like your other siblings would call him.

but no, the world always has something else in mind.

"sorry, mr. wayne. but i am not your child, and will never see myself as one. and you? you will never be my dad."

your heartless tone, the way you look at him like he wasn't your father, but a mere stranger. maybe in your mind, he was just a sperm donor for your mother, and he knows he would only amount to that, seeing as how he wasn't even there for when you were born; not acknowledging your existence for five years and simply taking you in when your mother had left you, then forgetting about you again—

it's now that it isn't batman who has gone too far but bruce wayne. your supposed father, the man who should've been there for you, to nourish your growth, watching you as you accomplish all the great things in the world.

he was supposed to be the man who should've kissed your wounds away whenever you go out to the park with him to play. he should've been the man who would sit on the crowded bleachers to watch you perform on a talent show. he was supposed to be the father who would hold you close to your chest as you cry about your first heartbreak, about your overdue projects, about the bullies in the school.

but he wasn't that father for you. and now, you seek love and attention from people who weren't even family. because they had failed you, he had failed you.

it reminds him of all the times he was left brooding alone, in the manor as he forces himself to remember the scene of his parents dying all over and over again.

yet it was you, his precious baby, that he had lost. not physically, but emotionally and spiritually.

he doesn't want to lose hope at any instance for redemption but fuck, he doesn't want to delude himself into thinking you would easily forgive and forget.

but damn it all, because he would have nothing to lose to show you just how much he loves you. and he will, he will spoil you rotten to the core, he'll give you the entire world if that meant he would hear you would call him your "dad" just for once.

[dejwrld]

CHOSOIST KINKTOBER GAMING PLAYLIST — WEEK 2

( GUARDIAN ANGEL ) 🎮 GUARDIAN ANGEL!SEPHIROTH X READER

— game synopsis: he's been your guardian angel since you were sixteen years old. protecting you from danger you didn't see coming, but now that you're slowly wanting space from him—he makes it his mission to remind you who you belong to until you take your final breath.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, slight enemies to fuckers, reader somewhat purposely put herself in danger, possessive!sephiroth, mentions of sephiroth having pretty white wings, mating press position, cream pies, mentions of soul ties,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀kinktober masterlist / previous playthrough

You’ve known him since you were sixteen years old. The mere memory of him grabbing at your backpack strap to tug you out of the way as you were about to walk into ongoing traffic imprints your brain like a nostalgic TV memory. He was a sixteen-year-old guardian angel who aged through the years as you grew, interfering in your life as if you were the most life-threatening person ever. 

Freshman year of college, he’s taking the red solo cup of whatever mixed potion the older frat guys made out of your hand. This led to practically the whole campus thinking you were chronically insane as you argued with no one because they couldn’t see what you saw. He interfered with your life at moments when you had it all under control, and he didn’t need to baby you as if you didn’t. But you were grateful for him, and the things he did stop when things got bad.

It's like killing a guy who roofied you at a bar. Despite the toxic drugs from drinking your drink, it had you feeling like you were in another world. You remember the crimson-red liquid staining his large, elegant white wings after the deed was done. After that, he’s never left your side, and you grew to feel suffocated. You couldn’t do much in your life if you had your guardian angel down your neck twenty-four-seven commenting on you getting hurt or dying. 

Now an adult, he still was here. Despite you being perfectly fine. No freak accidents, no near-death experiences. He still was here lurking around as if you were a child. 

Right now, watching as you poorly attempted to get laid. Your panties dangle from your ankle as you wait for the guy to insert, but as your horny meter slowly decreases—so does the poor stranger you met at a bar cock. Your eyes averted between your bodies as he aggressively pumped his condom-covered cock; you could hear his laughs as he was sitting on your kitchen counter chewing on an apple. 

Fuckin’ Sephiroth.

“You know what? That’s okay. Just leave.” You pushed the guy off you, limp dick and all while you’re scrambling to tug your panties back on. 

“What? It just takes some time,” The guy’s tugging his pants up in frustration. “Just please…baby.” He’s grasping on you, and you’re swatting his hand away like it’s an annoying fruit fly. 

“Just go. I’m no longer in the mood.” You warned.

This was a warning not only for yourself but for him. You had a 6’1 angel looming around your apartment who didn’t care to kill someone—especially a person who wasn’t following directions. Your eyes darted from him in the kitchen to the guy who kissed his teeth while collecting his belongings.

“Don’t call me anymore! You completely wasted my time.” He sneered at you while leaving your apartment. The door closed with a harsh slam that made you jump. 

As silence drifts over your apartment, and the only thing you can hear is the sound of that annoying clock in your kitchen ticking, you lean back on the couch with a sigh. “You know, you completely ruined the vibe, you know?” Your eyes land on the white-haired male as he finishes the apple he obnoxiously chews on.

“Do not blame it on me.” He tosses the apple in a trash can and stands up to close the space between you.

“I am blaming you because it seems like every romantic connection I attempt to make, you are there to ruin it.” You sneered at him before sitting up. “I don’t think this will work anymore, Sephiroth.” 

“Are you saying you want to release me of my duties of being your guardian angel?” He asks. You can feel he got closer despite shifting your eyes closed to calm yourself down from this talk. 

You two have been together for years. He’s been protecting you for years, and now it felt so suffocating that you couldn’t breathe. Sometimes, you wanted to release him of his duties, but you knew when you did that every memory you’ve shared with him would vanish. It would be like you two have never met. 

The sight of him with his elegant white wings on his back. The sight of blood staining his pale skin after murdering someone that hurt you. The look of worry when you almost walk into traffic, and he was a split second from being too late. 

He was yours just as much as you were his. But you needed space. 

“Yes.” You breathed out, pushing yourself off the couch to enter your room. “You know, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t think we can co-exist in each other’s lives anymore.” You explained you turned around, and he was leaning against your doorframe with the most obnoxious face. 

It was as if your words were going out one ear and the other for him. “We’re not young anymore. I don’t need you being so….so.” You were searching for the word to describe how you felt—frustration riddling your bones as you attempted to express yourself. 

Sephiroth took steps forward, closing the gap between you two. When he was towering over you with such little care at how close he was to you—he fixed your tank top strap and let his slender fingers linger on your shoulder just a little longer to cause goosebumps to garnish your skin immediately. 

“Possessive.” He finishes your sentence as his teeth graze upon his lower lip. “Is that the word you’re searching for, my little ward?” 

And with challenging eyes, you met his and said, “Yes. Possessive, like you own me or something.” 

His chuckles. But this chuckle was different from the one you have heard. It felt more sinister, more agitated. 

“You’re stuck with me, love. If you like it or not. We’re bound together until you die of old age or better yet, I briefly take my eyes off you as fate finally chooses a moment for you to die. Maybe a bus will hit you as you walk into traffic for texting on that silly device of yours, or maybe you’ll accidentally hit your head.” 

Your eyebrows furrow together in frustration and anger at his words. 

“You enjoy my company but don’t want to admit it. You think I didn’t notice the way you bring home little flings to spite me. You think I can’t hear the way your heartbeat quickens at the sight of me watching you get fucked by some man who can’t even make you orgasm. Sephiroth’s eyes glance over your body like he was observing you under a microscope. “So tell me, Y/N.” His finger’s toying with that strap on your tank top that keeps falling off your shoulder. 

“How many times have you imagined me, your sworn protector—your guardian angel fucking you?” His fingers drag alongside your nipples that harden through the thin white fabric of your tank top. “And don’t lie; I know when you’re lying to me.” 

You couldn’t quite remember what you had said after his words for your knees to be pressed upon your stomach and for Sephiroth’s cock to be buried into your throbbing cunt while your moans bounced off the walls. The pornographic sound of heated skin slapping against each other with the sound of your headboard banging against the wall was like music to your ears. But you enjoyed the sight of Sephiroth more. 

His crystal white hair fell in his face so perfectly. Comically enough, you wanted to say he looked like an angel. His eyes kept averting between your fucked out face and in between your body. With each glance down there, it seemed he fucked you into the mattress even harder. Instantly, your legs snake around his waist, completely trapping him from depriving you of what you were so eager for.

Sephiroth chuckles darkly through your pants of desperation, “Seems you’re enjoying this a little too much.” He mumbles. He pulls his cock entirely out of you, leaving you whining for more. 

He guides his cock in between your pussy lips rubbing in the mixture of your essence and pre-cum. Your back arched off the mattress with urgency, and he pushed you back down so you could endure the pleasurable torture of his cock teasing you until you were staining the cotton sheets below your naked body. With each stroke between your puffy lips, you’re squeezing your eyes shut tightly to prevent even the littlest thought of him seeing you like this. You didn’t think you could fathom the mere embarrassment. 

“Come on, you don’t want to see how well you take me?” He questions, his voice rings with a teasing tone that makes your pussy pulse. 

“Fine then.” He mumbles what seems to himself before he hooks his strong arms under your knees, completely trapping you under him and what’s to come.

You wondered if Sephiroth could hear how fast your heart was beating. It felt like it was bouncing around your chest like a small ball in a pinball machine. The feeling of his thick tip brushing against your entrance felt like the world had stopped. Perhaps it did. The idea of a guardian angel fucking his ward into her mattress had to be some form of rule breaker, right? Maybe, just maybe—God had briefly paused the world to give you time to weigh out the pros and cons of this.

But when Sephiroth bottomed down inside you, you felt the world unpause, and a wave of pleasure travel across your body. You even could hear yourself let out a sigh of relief—as if you’ve been waiting for this moment in centuries. The way his cock was inside, you felt like it was a missing piece in a puzzle you need. It fit perfectly, but when he started rotating and thrusting his hips—you couldn’t help but call out his name like it was a scripture.

It wasn’t as if you could do anything else but take his sensual thrusts. The mating press position trapped you from doing anything else but that. The way he was making you feel at the moment had you ignoring all that. Your moans echoed into his ear, and Sephiroth was very responsive because he’d grunt back like a rabid animal in heat. Ensuring that the feeling was mutual. That he was feeling just as good as you were. 

“After this, you’ll be stuck with me forever, right?” Sephiroth asked. His tongue drags alongside the bridge of your right ear, and instantly, your legs snake around his waist, locking your feet together so he won’t let go.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” His words send a chill down your spine as he continues to fuck into the mattress.

The pornographic sound of heated flesh echos upon your bedroom, and your eyes seem to squeeze shut in bliss. Savoring the moment between the two of you until you couldn’t anymore. Your pussy pulsed around his cock, and your thighs quivered under your guardian angel’s touch. His grip on you grew tighter, and you knew that he was unraveling right on top of you. His groans that echoed in your ear changed into whines of desperation. If you were being honest with yourself, you haven’t seen him this desperate in your life.

But it was a reason for that because, in just three seconds, he was a coming mess. He didn’t even bother to pull out, either. His nails dug into your heated flesh with each thrust inside of you, ensuring that each droplet of his cum stayed inside of you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you leaned up to indulge in a heated kiss to seal the deal that you knew was going to follow you for years.

You truly were stuck with him forever until you took your last breath. 

TAGS // @salaciousdoll @syndrlla97 @lilvampirina @msun1c0rn

[almostfoxglove]

AN END TO DROUGHT

written for @perotovar's offering of Frith

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Javier Peña x f!Reader GOD: Freyr God of fertility, harvests, and peace WORD COUNT: 5.4k CW: Smut (f!oral, m!oral, unprotected piv, creampie).

SUMMARY: The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

For two fortnights you’ve seen no rainfall. Not a single, silver drop. The orchard, rich with the stunted globes of pale apples not yet fully formed, withers browner every day. Leaves crisp and folded in prayer, the last-ditch desperation of dying fronds. You spend hours hauling well water to the rows of cropland on which your livelihood relies, but it isn’t enough. Each morning you wake to the sun rising phoenix-like on the horizon, hotter and more accusing than the day before.

You speak to the trees, the fledgling stone fruit, apologizing when there is no more water your body can carry, when the well runs dry. 

Six generations your family has raised apples like they raised their kin. 

Now it will die in this drought with you as its shepherd.

Hopeless in your waking, back throbbing, shoulders sore, you rise from your bed at the crack of a new dawn to the fragrance coaxed every Sunday by your mother’s slender hands. She is fragile now in that child-like way, skin thin and veins sapphire blue, hearing going, but sturdy, still, for you. Doesn’t matter that you’ve been grown for decades now, solely responsible for the farm and her mounting care—your mother bakes a pair of her grain-kissed boules every week without fail.

“There you are,” she says, when you are just two steps away. These days she cannot hear your footsteps on the stairs.

“Sit, now,” you say softly, slipping your hand over hers to take the bread knife, and with a soft tsk your mother surrenders before settling at the breakfast table.

You break bread together: salted butter swept glistening over the delicate crumb and sturdy crust, spoons of preserves canned the year before. Cinnamon and cloves, honey and stewed apples, wild pickled blueberries. It takes so long to notice the change in the air, but when you do it’s obvious—you aren’t sweating in the way you have for weeks. The house, once sweltering, has cooled ever so slightly. When you gaze out the windows into the orchard, the sky is no longer the blue you’ve come to resent, but a wash of cotton batting. 

Clouds. 

Your mother, thin wire glasses low on her nose, grins at your expression. 

“He’s home,” she says.

“Who?”

Her smirk is the same as you remember it being when you were a girl. “The Peña boy,” she says, lifting her bread slice to her mouth. “Weather always fixes itself when he comes ‘round.”

You hum beneath your breath. You can picture him only vaguely—lean and liquid, little more than a silhouette in the distance on the other side of the fence that cages your family’s property from his. His father you know better, see often. Spiced apple cider traded for horse manure or Chucho’s brawn. Twice this past winter he fixed your fence after a furious storm and asked for nothing but a loaf of your mother’s bread in return.

Javier you’ve not glimpsed in a decade give or take, if you’re remembering right. Moved somewhere south for duty’s dauntless call.

In the lullaby of easy silence, you finish your meal, rinse the dishes, and walk out into the fields with the second loaf in hand where overhead the sky is performing a miracle befitting the gods: letting out the first tender, forgiving drops of rain. Your body brightens as you watch it freckle and darken the starving, yellowed earth. 

A caw, something of a laugh, shocks loose from your chest—delight, pure in its relief.

Tracing the aisles of death-bed apple trees, you sweep your fingertips along their trunks. Water pools in the green spades turned to spoons for liquid crystal. The precipitation for which you’ve longed and begged and prayed: here, at last, to save the grange.

The rain picks up. Forceful in its abundance, peppering the sandy earth. Soon your boots stick as you walk between trees, dirt becoming mud, so you shield the boule beneath the leaf of your buttoned shirt.

At the end of the orchard, the log fence stands and the grass grows tall and clover-riddled, purple thistles starved yellow in the heat. You stride towards the fence, far beyond which the Peña house stands white and shingled, framed by the umbrellas of old oak trees that border the meadows in which their herd of equines laze back and forth, grateful as you for the merciful change in weather. It is beautiful here, though it’s easy to forget when all the season brings is wilting. 

You hear him before you see him: a quiet, clicking tongue. 

Then a mare picks up her cantor, spurred forth by Javier—indeed returned, wide in the shoulders and dark hair slicked by rain, out forty feet or so—tanned skin made gold around his eyes by yellow aviators, periwinkle shirt undone a button too low. More handsome than you remember, but it’s been a long time. 

Your mother was right: it seems he brought the rain home with him.

As you come to a stop near the fence, tall grass clinging to your calves, his head turns slowly in your direction. Jaw working over something—gum, if you had to guess. You lift your free hand, show him your open palm, and he takes a last look at the horse before sauntering your way.

Like you, he’s undisturbed by the rain. No shelter-seekers here; you’re grateful enough to bathe in any storm. Come hell or high water—isn’t that how the saying goes? You’d swim any flash flood after all this unending dearth, drink any tidal wave.

“Heard you were home,” you call out over the pebbling downpour, watching his broad hand rake through his hair. 

Much more handsome than you remember, the nearer he strides. Unhurried, Javier lifts his sunglasses off to slip into his shirt pocket and even from some way off you don’t miss the path of his brown eyes as he takes you in. Against your better judgment, the hungry stripe of his gaze flips something low in your stomach, something needy. 

He stops just shy of his side of the fence, no more than an arm’s length away, as the splatter of kind weather kicks up the earth’s perfume. 

“This morning,” he admits, his voice all gravel and mead. Low and heady, a little sweet. Not shy—his eyes drop again, this time to your stomach where you’re holding the bread beneath your shirt. Sort of useless now—the rain’s too strong to save it—so you draw it out, flashing him by accident a glimpse of your bare stomach where his gaze stays pinned. 

Then, bread rising in your hand, seeded crust glistening as it speckles wet, his eyes at last leave you to follow it. “Ma thinks you brought the rain,” you say, not bothering to hide your smirk.

The corner of his mouth pulls into his cheek. “That so?”

You shrug, loaf held like a waitress’ tray not yet offered. “Accordin’ to her.”

To your surprise you see in his eyes what appears to be timidity—perhaps bashful to be given credit for the sudden end to the wrecking drought he’s no doubt heard about. With a sweep of your arm, you present the bread in your outstretched hand and one dark brow rises high on his head. 

“Before it’s drenched,” you insist, and Javier takes it, smile lopsided and pretty. 

Above the chuffing sound of a horse grazing on the trampled grass, the sky splits like a seam and sunlight cuts through the cloud’s white cover, throwing down a ribbon of yellow that licks the stables. 

Javier tilts the bread in his hands, inspecting the ear, the crust. Flashes those dark eyes back at you, exacting and tender at the same time.

“Our way of saying thanks,” you say, already stepping backward, toward the apple trees. “Neighbor.”

The rain doesn’t stop for three days—just long enough to wash the ash of long-snuffed forest fires from the orchard’s leaves. When the sun returns whole and yolk-gold to the sky, it brings heat of a kinder type. Warm for the growing things but barbless in its licking flame. You swear in just three nights the orchard lifts itself from its stupor—broadens, stretches, unfurls new leaves. 

Your mother bakes like she’s got an army to feed and doesn’t wait till Sunday to do it. 

“Take them, take them,” she insists, as fragile in stature as she is adamant in tone. Such a small, hunched little thing. “Least we can do.”

“Ma,” you sigh, powerless to her persistence, how she rests the arched handle of a basket in your hand for you to take. “You don’t seriously think he—”

She tuts softly, shoos you with one pallid hand before re-knotting the bow of her apron behind her back. “Just be grateful,” she says. “S’only right.”

Might as well be a girl again because here you are, obedient. Carrying the basket of seeded bread across the grass, between reborn apple trees, the fragrant orchard rows that days ago seemed doomed to die. Your heart thuds, surrendering itself to gratitude. Suppose it doesn’t hurt anything to take the Peñas bread.

Javier’s out in the pasture cleaving a rotten log from a sunken fence panel with an axe. White t-shirt translucent and clinging to the muscle that banks his back, he heaves the blade down with a biting crack and a grunt. Your footsteps give you away—he straightens as you hop the fence between your properties and land on his side, halting his rhythmic swinging.

As he turns, face halved by the shadow of an oak looming overhead, eyes squinting to make you out in the light, Javier cocks an eyebrow, dimple winking in his cheek.

“Neighbor,” he says, unabashed, now, in his lingering gaze. Dark curls cling to his temples and forehead, licked by sweat, across which he wipes the back of his forearm before setting the axe down against the fence.

Growing up on adjoining farms never sowed friendship between you—you’d estimate you’ve exchanged no more than a couple hundred words in damn near four decades—but there is in Javier a certain familiarity. A sense of him fitting into the landscape, reliable as an oak always looming in the distance. As constant as these valleys and hills, as the house beyond his muscled shoulder. Never something to acquaint yourself with, but something to rely upon.

Peculiar to stand before him now—twice in the same week—exchanging words.

You hold out the basket, linen cloth folded neatly over the boules. Javier, eyeing you suspiciously, takes one cautious step toward you with his hands on his narrow hips, peering down at your offering. His eyes flicker beyond you to your house and though you don’t look back you’d bet the whole season’s harvest that your mother is standing on the porch, watching. Guaranteeing you hand off the gift as she’s asked, like you aren’t well past grown.

Amused, he hums low and quiet. “For me?” he muses, knowing the answer, and when you roll your eyes he only smirks. Pleased, maybe teasing you.

You squint at him—glistening, all sinew and bated breath. Your mother’s mind may be failing in that drawn out, terrible way—hearing fading, her logic a little swimmy—but standing this close to Javier you can’t blame the woman for mistaking him for a god. 

“Just take it,” you say, betrayed by the curl of your lips. “She won’t let me back in the house ‘till you do.”

This time as he slips the gift from your hand to his, Javier sweeps his fingertips against your open palm, sending a sparkle of heat up the length of your arm. You watch him peel the frond of cloth back, unveiling the golden tithe as you drop your arm at your side. When he inhales slow and deep you can smell it too, that redolent unfurling of warmth. Hypnotic, despite its familiarity. Hypnotic, too, is the breadth of his chest as he takes that long, indulgent breath, thin fabric slick to his damp, lithe form. 

“She really think I brought the rain?” he asks, frowning a little. Watching you like he knows you’re watching him. Each of you sizing the other up, scrambling to build opinions of someone who’s only ever been a figure across the lush trees and grass. 

Did you once lose a kite to one of their oak trees? You think you might remember a young, rawboned Javier climbing a web of gnarled branches to fish it free, delivering it safely to where you waited on your side of the fence. Yes, you can see it now—that lazy, one-sided smile on his boyish face, the sun-bleached kite, and the relief of its homecoming to your trembling hand. 

Three decades older he is no less honest in the way he awaits your reaction.

“Or she’s messing with me,” you admit. “I never know anymore.”

His scoff triggers yours—a brief, quiet chuckle in the remains of a salvaged summer. Javier shrugs and yes, you think he catches the way your eyes skirt briefly to his shoulders because his jaw ticks, cheeks hollowing as he sucks his tongue against his front teeth. He turns his head in the direction of their house, sees no sign of Chucho, same as you. A low hm sound rattles from his chest.

You’d swear the sun flares a little hotter when he returns his gaze to you.

“If it rains again,” Javier says, his voice swooping to a deeper shade. “What will you bring me?”

You cross your arms. “I think you can count on the bread indefinitely.”

“Don’t mean her—I mean you.”

Traitorous, your heart: how it speeds, skips a note or two in its once steady pattern. “I don’t think you brought the rain,” you tell him. “Just timing.”

When he narrows his eyes, his crow’s feet swallow them. Mustache quirking, pink tongue darting over his bottom lip. “Call it hypothetical,” he says, and you’re not sure if you were standing quite this close just a moment before, if one of you has moved and if so, which. 

Hunger rarely devours you in any of its forms. A life spent in service of harvests leaves little excess to spend. Yet it stirs unmistakably, low and begging, at the sound of Javier’s gruff voice and the graceful way he pins your eyes to his mouth with every tiny movement of his lips. He doesn’t have to smile for you to feel him smirking—a fact alone that feels somehow mythic in its dominion, its quiet, unassuming power. All of him marble-sleek and solid, the image of virile beauty. It almost feels like a shame to think you’ve seldom stood this close before.

You jut your chin to the sky—that blue untouched by a single cloud—and shake your head. “It’s not going to rain,” you say, steadfast in your certainty. “Not anytime soon.”

“And if it does.” He doesn’t say it like a question—rather, an inevitability—which is to say you hear his real meaning: and when it does.

Head shaking, cheeks set aflame, you once more roll your eyes, this time turning back to return to your side of the fence. Over your shoulder you call out, “If it rains this week, I’ll bring whatever you like.”

For six days there’s nothing but sun. You watch the apples blush on their branches, those first pinkish stripes that promise a red and sugared fruit. Autumn will bring spices and cider, days and weeks and months of fermentation, of watching fruit turn liquid and then to gold. This stretch of summer is make or break for the harvest to come: the right weather now can mean perfection or a crying shame.

All week you watch Javier at such a distance he appears as only a tiny, charcoal figure roaming the fields, hauling lumber and picking up the far-off slack.

Yet often when you do, you think his head looks to be already angled in your direction. Impossible to know for sure in the blazing light and with so much land between you, but you’d take that bet. You’re pretty sure he’s watching you too.

You’re sure, also, that you’re right about the weather. At the dawn of the seventh day the skies look no less blemished than they have all week. Doesn’t look at all like it’s going to rain.  To your surprise, you’re a little disappointed, but the feeling passes.

You push out into the orchards, tend to the lifelong task of keeping everything verdant and alive. Sweet is the air at this early, fragile hour in which the birds are just now waking, filling the world with their jubilee. Sky pink at the horizon, white overhead, you spend the morning gloating to no one but the trees—you were right, and Javier was wrong. He’s going to lose.

Lose what, you aren’t sure, but when midday breaks golden and ripe, Javier appears in the tall grass, hand steadied on the neck of a tobiano as he and the creature walk between gated pastures, and his face turns in your direction, catches you drinking icy cider on the porch while you catch your breath between tasks. 

This time when he catches your gaze, he lifts his free hand, forefinger spearing up at the sky. Too far to call out to each other, you have no way of asking what the gesture is for, so you step down from the croaking porch into the crabgrass and look up.

There hang, above you, newborn wisps. Clouds ashy at their bellies.

But clouds are just clouds. They aren’t rain.

The reckoning comes an hour later. 

You dismiss the first, shy drop. A fluke, a fleeting blip of your imagination. Then the second: clear and wet on your forearm. Then a third. Soon it’s unavoidable—above you gray has gathered like dust bunnies beneath a couch, the bright summer shaded by the weather’s impossible will—and the rain that falls is not a patter, not a whisper, but a stony fist fight. The kind of rain that comes sweeping and determined, that has something to prove. 

It’s like autumn has taken the stage two months too early. Childlike in its eagerness to command your attention—a downpour harsh and giving. 

You emerge at the end of an arbored aisle to see Javier cut stoic against the shaded sky just shy of the boundary between your properties, chest wide and proud, just as drenched by the onslaught of rain but not fazed in the slightest. Too cavalier to smile but its essence hangs in the air between you, silver as any raindrop, unmistakable in meaning. He nods in the direction of a stable not far from the first shelter of elder oaks and without a word or invitation lopes off toward it, so fluid in his lazy strides, legs a little bowed and no small bit solid, hugged tight by denim that might as well be painted on.

You are following before your mind can think to.

You are hopping the fence.

You are dashing for the shadowed stable after him.

Breathless, hair kelped to your cheeks, clothes more water than textile, you cannot at first make out the stable’s interior, eyes not yet adjusted to the shift in light, ears booming with its cacophony. “Okay,” you say to the darkness in which Javier must be standing, blinking fast, wiping the rain from your eyes. “You got really fuckin’ lucky. What do you want?”

Embers warm in your chest—the first fronds of new wanting. You know what you hope he’ll say.

A flash of movement as your eyes adapt: Javier’s tanned arms reaching for you. His broad hands frame your face and you are not yet surefooted as he, swept up in his sudden, steady embrace. You hear yourself laugh over the barrage outside, silenced only by the blackness in his eyes—all that warmth and brown swallowed by his pupils. Your hands cuff his wrists, holding him to holding you without hesitation. 

It should be awkward, this first real meeting of your bodies. How Javier steps up to press the length of his torso to yours, sly in the subtle turn of his lips as he breathes one quiet word: You. But it isn’t. He slots his lips to yours like kissing you is just another step in his languid stride, graceful and planned, his arms dragging you against his steady frame. The softness of his mouth a welcome surprise. Dizzy on the first swipe of his begging tongue, you’re entirely unaware of Javier walking you backward until your shoulder blades hit the stable wall.

What a gift it is to be kissed and kiss with one’s whole body. Javier licks hotly into your mouth, sucking sweetly on your tongue or bottom lip depending on his whim, hands holding you flush to the fire of him. When he moves to your jaw, the soft flesh of your ear, you are a candle never before lit, touched a thousand times wrongly and made finally right.

Javier mumbles something lost under the bellowing tempest. Every raindrop riots on the sheeted roof. 

“What?” you pant, eyelids heavy with lust. Your shirt hangs open, as does his, both unbuttoned though you’d not noticed their undoing. Now visible in the gray light is the bronze of his freckled chest, the dark hair drawn from his navel to the waistband of his jeans.

You’d stare, but Javier then laps at the hollows of your neck, drinks rain from the dip in your collarbone, and you hum softly, entranced by his touch, eyes fluttering closed. He moves his lips closer to your ear. “Perfect,” he repeats, before his mouth is lost once more to the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your chest.

Meanwhile the path of your hands draws a symphony from him: low grunts and breathy huffs and, when your fingertips trace the hair on his stomach to graze his jeans, an earthy moan sweeter than any rainfall after any summer. 

Javier cants his hips against yours like he’s making a promise.

How sublime, the wet ask of his tongue down your stomach as he falls to his knees. 

Though he—after catching your eye, fingers frozen over the fly of your shorts until you nod—is the one to strip the layers from you first, you aren’t certain which of you is the one who’s praying, only that the reverence hangs heavy as a heatwave in the humid air.

Your head falls back against the stable wall. All but the roar of the storm is lost beyond your panting bodies as Javier kneels at the altar of you, shelves one of your legs on his shoulders, and laps hungrily from your aching heat. The pledge of his mouth sucks the air from you—your hands fly to the laurel of his hair, bathed locks slipping between your fingers as you clench and throb and tug, hardly conscious of the whimpers you let out in the wake of his tending.

Dutiful, he brings you gasping to the brink of some new chasm. Tongue expert in its tracing, circling, slipping, driving. Lifts his face to smirk just before you fall, dark stache glossy with your need and eyes blown black, and perhaps you’d be annoyed if Javier looked arrogant at all, but his confidence appears to you only assured. Resolute in his wanting. As if the world would have to come to a sudden, gasping end for his concentration to falter at all.

“Like that?” Javier asks, perhaps as winded as you. Genuine, you think, in his asking, though he must know.

You’re not sure if you remember how to nod or speak, but your hips buck on their own accord, desperate for him to see this through. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thick fingers squeezing your hips. “Think you do.”

Then his grin vanishes as he resumes and all at once you are tumbling, swept away in a landslide and earthquake at the same time as he slips two fingers into you, coaxing a rush of pleasure into his mouth. You might cry out his name, but the sound is lost to the din of the deluge.

When next you catch your breath, Javier is standing, denim wet and straining against the swell of his length. Hesitation is no longer a word you know or hold, already greedy for his taste, so you urge your mouth to his and lap the taste of yourself from his tongue, fingers busy with freeing him, the slick peeling of his jeans. You fall without realizing you’re falling, sunken to the ground with Javier’s cock heavy and throbbing in your hand. 

He might whine when your tongue flickers sweetly against his weeping head—but there’s no mistaking the desperate groan dug loose from the earth of Javier’s chest as you bring the whole of him into the furnace of your mouth, wet and tight and willing. Your moan sends a shiver through his body, then Javier’s hand shoots out fast as a gunshot, palm slamming into the wall to keep himself from toppling. 

“Shit—” he gasps, and you look up at him through dewy lashes to find his eyes have closed, lips swollen and jaw hanging open. 

Again, you hum. Make a game of the stroke and slide and swallowing that makes him quiver until it’s too good, too good, too close baby and he pulls you off him, drool slugging down your chin. His cock aching, surely, when you nuzzle your cheek against it, tempted to take it in your throat again. But you smile as he plummets to meet you on the ground, then swoon when he lays you out on the topsoil not yet drenched by the rain. 

“Wanna feel you first,” Javier murmurs, petting the hair back from your face, lapping the spit from your chin with his tongue before he unites it with yours. Lips plush, more tender than you expect amidst his fervor, the kind of kissing you can’t help but lose yourself to. You think you’d kiss him the rest of the day, through any night. Brows pinching when he pulls away, cupping the blaze of your burning cheeks with the palm of his hand, thumb swept across your upper lip as he gazes down at you with adoration.

“Need to fill you,” he groans. “Don’t I, hm? Dime, baby.”

Thighs spread to make room for him in the bowl of your hips, you pull him over you by the shoulders until he blankets you, covering all but a sliver of the rain-rich sky visible through the stable’s entrance, and the oak tree’s canopy lashing in the fevered gale.

Is his shirt below you now, somehow? You think it must be—spread carefully to protect your needy flesh.

“Yes,” you breathe, as Javier kneels between your legs, fisting the base of his cock. “Yes, yes.”

A grin, but not of ego—he is only pleased. Pious in his watching the way breath shudders in your chest. Javier nods, brow dented low and serious, curls black with water and plastered to his face, and pumps himself once, then takes your ankles in his hands. Sets them flat on the ground, bending both your knees to frame him. Hands butterflied and wide, tracing the slant of your thighs to the bend of your hips like all of a sudden he has all the time in the world. 

Maybe you do. It almost feels like you do. 

Like this might not be a spell that breaks with the end of the rain.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I know,” you breathe.

With both hands Javier lifts your hips from the ground and pulls you toward him until your core presses against the underside of his cock. He hmphs, transfixed by this silken meeting, and thrusts his hips once, gently, rubbing himself between your folds. You whimper at the friction, cunt fluttering, begging. 

Javier clicks his tongue as you claw at his forearms, hips pitching in his hold to ask for more, and this time there is perhaps a drop of pride in his cunning gaze. Glad to be the one you stir for, the one you choose.

“Needs me, hm?” he coos.

You paint the air between you with his name.

“I know,” he murmurs, guiding himself to you now, nudging his tip against your clit once, twice, then notching.

Then rhapsody. The urging in and dragging out, the sweet perfection of Javier inside you, taking space that now seems like it was made for him from the start. “Fuck,” you hear yourself say, more breath than voice, and Javier grits his teeth as he feeds his cock to you slowly, throbbing and whole.

“So soft,” he grunts, resolve slipping—his hips snap against yours on the next thrust and you yelp from the bliss of it. Teeth bared above you, Javier yanks you flush against his slender hips, buried to the hilt as he tries to catch his breath. “Shit, baby.”

Thighs clamping around his waist, you writhe, plant your palms on his sternum, desperate for more. 

“Javi,” you plea, and in a flash Javier spreads his hands over your hamstrings, pins your thighs to your stomach, and bends over you, fucking you into the ground.

Your teeth bump when he moves to kiss you, then he tilts his head and it’s all saccharine again: his tongue lapping sweetly into your mouth, mustache scraping against your cupid’s bow. Like this, the angle is exquisite. So deep it’s like he’s everywhere, stretching you out and stringing you taut and Javier must feel it too because he starts to grind, the thatch of dark hair at the base of his stomach rubbing against your clit as he grazes his teeth along the underside of your jaw.

“That’s it,” he mumbles. “Damelo, baby, quiero sentirte.”

You shatter, or bloom, you can’t totally decide. Exaltation in a single moment, your whole body electric in its trembling, clenching, gasping. Javier falters only when your body comes down from its high, emboldened to move again. Folded as you are, you can only whine and moan and sparkle as he once more takes up a rhythm. Smooth and hot as cider on a cold night, his cock glistening with your need as he pulls out and presses in, patient again.

“Perfect,” he prays.

It’s possible that this is heaven.

You don’t know when it stopped, but the skies have quieted. A lick of sunlight casts into the stables and falls over the expanse of Javier’s back and shoulders as he rocks into you again and again and again. Hand weaving into the curls at the nape of his neck, you hold him to you as his pace begins to stutter.

Javier licks the column of your throat, purring against your neck, “Lo quieres, baby? Hm?”

“Yes,” you tell him, one arm winding around his shoulders. “Deep.”

He kisses you once, then pulls back just enough to watch your face, his own lust-tense and sneering as his high builds and climbs. You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip, tell him to let go, and he is beautiful—lit copper and gold by summer’s warmth as he drops his forehead to yours.

Perfect in his promise, Javier offers all to you, fills you wholly, his body tense and then unraveling. His weight drops onto you properly as he paints your cunt with his seed. When you grunt he lifts just enough to free your legs without leaving your heat, and you lock your ankles over the small of his back.

Javier nuzzles his nose to yours.

You aren’t sure how long you stay like that, but when you’re standing again, his hands guides your weakened legs back into your shorts. You button each other’s shirts instead of your own. 

Outside the stables, the earth sings petrichor, grateful for the fleeting flood. Across the fence beyond the tall grass your orchard sparkles, glittered with rain as you stand beneath the oak tree gazing out in gratitude. Javier’s hand ghosts over your spine and you feel a rash of goosebumps break out as if he’s once more touched your skin. 

His breath is warm against your hair, the apple of your cheek. “Don’t wait for rain next time,” he whispers, then slinks off regal and graceful as a wildcat, clicking his tongue to call out the horses to the pastures now marbled with loam.

It doesn’t rain again for weeks, but you go to him anyway, hopping the fence that cradles your homes to seek his arms.

moodboard by @perotovar & dividers by @saradika-graphics

tag list & some mutuals:

@thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @tuquoquebrute @thundermartini

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @jessthebaker

@burntheedges @studioghibelli @la-eterna-enamorada29 @goodgirlwannabe @guiltyasdave

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @pedgito

@jolapeno @pastelpinkflowerlife @ak-vintage @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours

[dixons-sunshine]

Daryl Dixon x Mom!Reader With Baby Headcannons

*GIF isn't mine*

Warnings: None, really.

Word count: 802

A/n: I'm in desperate need for some Scud Frohmeyer or Daryl requests. I have two requests that I'm working on right now but I have no idea where I want to go with them, so they're going to be on hold for now until I get the motivation to write them again. I'm so sorry, but I'm hoping that some new ideas might spark some motivation back into my mind, then I can go back to those stories and give it my all!

—

★ For Daryl Dixon, there were only three days in his entire life that meant the world to him—the day you became his, the day you told him that you were pregnant and the day your baby was born.

★ When he held his baby for the first time, he definitely teared up a little. The little being in his arms was so tiny but so perfect. He would die to protect his baby.

★ Daryl would have no problems with staying up late to take care of the baby while you slept. In fact, he would insist on it most of the time. He didn't want to be the type of guy who slept while the girl had to always take care of the baby. You and the baby were the most important people to Daryl, and if it meant offering up his sleep to ensure you both were okay and that you, the mother of his child was well rested, so be it.

★ Although Daryl took most of the night shifts with the baby, there were a lot of times when you'd refuse to go back to sleep and stubbornly stay up with him.

★ In those 3am times with the two of you taking care of your bundle of joy is when Daryl would wonder how he managed to get that lucky. Merle had told him once that people like him and Daryl weren't cut out to have families and that even if they did, it would bring them nothing but misery.

★ But there he was, holding both the love of his life and his baby, in his arms, and he was the happiest man in the world.

★ Daryl would be so affectionate with the baby that you wished that you had a video camera to record it.

★ He would tell the baby stories that he could vaguely remember Beth telling Judith back at the prison, and he would tell them in the softest voice ever. There was no doubt that he loved that baby with his whole heart.

★ He would definitely also be extremely affectionate with you. Cuddles, kisses, hugs, you name it. Mainly because he's happy with his little family, but also because he's relieved. He knew the risks of dying while giving birth were there, so to have you alive and well after the birth was a huge relief to him.

★ While the feelings of happiness and love overpower his other emotions most of the time, doubt and fear still creep up from time to time.

★ Daryl feared that something would happen to you and the baby. It was a dangerous world you lived in and anything could happen at any given moment. But Daryl swore to himself that he would die fighting to protect you and your little one.

★ Daryl also doubted sometimes if he was a good father. He never had a good example of one growing up and he feared that he would end up being like his father. But even as those thoughts plagued his mind, one look at his baby and he knew that he would never be able to be that cruel towards his little one. However, the fear still lingered, and it would probably be there forever.

★ You and the baby came first. Always. You thought Daryl was overprotective while you were pregnant? It would be nothing compared to when the baby is born. Everybody knew not to even look at you wrong or they would be food for the walkers.

★ His escapades beyond the walls would decrease significantly. He preferred to be by yours and the baby's sides as much as he could, and nobody would be able to tear him away.

★ Daryl has definitely snuck a picture of you holding the baby in your arms while the both of you were sleeping. He keeps it in his pocket at all times.

★ Daryl would definitely keep the baby in his arms at all times if you ever had to venture beyond the walls.

★ Yours and the baby's safety were his main priority, so he definitely wouldn't let you out of his sight until you're all back inside the walls again.

★ He loves you both with his whole heart, that much anyone could see.

[desi2go]

Lifting your bump

pairing: Felix x pregnant!reader

warnings: fluff

author's note: I'm half way done with the greek mythology fic! I'm hoping that I can finish it within the next week ;-)

Being pregnant was something that you wanted to be since you were young. You didn't know why but these little human beings just do something to you. Their big glossy eyes, the rosy cheeks and the bright smile always made you smitten.

And it was one of your biggest dreams to be pregnant one day. To experience motherhood on your own, watching the child you and your love created together growing up.

You knew that pregnancy wasn't easy. The morning sickness, back pain, swollen feet and so much more. But that didn't matter.

That's why you were thrilled when you discovered that you were pregnant from your boyfriend, Felix, of two years. It wasn't planned at all.

At first you couldn't even remember how on earth you could be pregnant. Since dating Felix and after a long conversation with him, you had decided that you would take the pill. You knew that it wasn't one hundred percent safe and Felix most of the time used a condom. But visiting him at the practice room turned out steamy and spicy.

And days after, you had noticed that you forgot to take the pill in the morning and you didn't use a condom.

Sure, you didn't think that you will be pregnant so early.

You wished Felix was there so that you could have told him right now.

But he was on tour and wouldn't come home for another month.

However, you didn't want to wait so long to tell him the news. You were dying to tell him. You called him the same evening, deciding to drop the news immediately. Luckily, you two already talked about having children and you both agreed that when the time was right you would try. Well, you weren't trying but it felt right to you and you knew that Lix would be over the moon.

And you were right. At first he was shocked, his mouth open in disbelief but after a few seconds, the biggest smile appeared on his face.

He jumped through his hotel room, squealed and hugged Seungmin tightly as he just wanted to check on him because of his screaming.

When he came home from tour, there was already a small bump. He cried when he saw you again and hugged you tightly, caressing over your stomach.

The months flew by and your bump grew bigger and bigger. It turned out that you weren't not carrying a baby but two. Felix told you that you glowed and you looked great pregnant. And you really loved it. Even though they decided that they wanted to be kick boxer and stomped against your rips.

Your breasts hurt, feet swollen and you couldn't even brush your teeth without the need to vomit. That was the side that you wouldn't miss.

And oh lord, your little beans weighed a ton. Back pains were terrible but you still insisted to cook for Felix so that he had a meal when he came home from the company.

You hummed along the soft melody of your favourite song, boiling some noodles. You groaned when one of the babies kicked, running your hand over your swollen belly.

The front door opens, signalling that your love was home from work. Immediately, he was behind you. Kissing your shoulder and hugged you from behind.

"Hello my love. Why are you cooking? The doctor said you should rest" he whispered into your ear, nibbling on the skin on your neck.

"I am resting. See? I'm not really moving around. So technically I'm resting" you answered and stirred the sauce.

His hands circled your waist just below your belly. He felt the kick.

"Little beans are really active today." You said.

"You promised me to be kind to your mother, sweet peas" he scolded lightly. He wrapped his arms tighter around you.

"What are you doing, love?"

He chuckled and kissed your neck. "Just relax"

Then, he lifted your bump slowly. Most of the weight was taken off of you and it was like you could finally take full breaths again. Exhausted, you sigh and slumped against him. Finally, your back pain began to vanish even it was just slightly.

He saw that on social media and Chan told him today that his wife absolutely loved it when she was pregnant.

"Oh my god, Lix. That feels great. Please stay like that" you groan and sunk further into him. He found it so adorable and he'll do everything for you whenever he can.

In that position he could even feel the babies kicking.

And he loved to see you comfortable, especially when he knew how painful this was for you and he'll definitely do it in the future more often till his little beans were born.

[ithebookhoarder]

Do you have any criminal minds fics in progress? I’d love to see more of your work for them :)

A Sweet Surprise (Aaron Hotchner x AFAB!Reader)

A/N: Oh do I? Haha. Well, whilst my inbox of requests is bursting this randomly fell out of my brain, so great timing with this I guess? I promise I will get to the other stories soon people - in the meantime, enjoy xxx

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then visit my Ko-fi here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of pregnancy, Aaron being a protective partner

Masterlist

“Aaron, honey, stop," you giggled, trying and failing to wriggle free from your husband’s wandering hands. "I swear, I am fine. Don’t make me banish you back into the living room. You know Garcia has been dying to get you to play Monopoly and, so help me God, I will tell her you’re dying to be the shoe.“

Aaron’s laugh was infectious and if you weren’t so stressed you’d have melted into him. Instead, your eyes narrowed into a warning glare as he reached for you again. 

“I just think you should let me help you, honey-” he pleaded, falling silent as soon as you heard footsteps approaching the kitchen doorway. You glanced up, watching as your host for the evening, Rossi, appeared, an empty glass of wine in hand. He had clearly come in need of a refill of whatever expensive vintage he had cracked open for your monthly team dinner. 

“Help with what?” he teased, watching as Aaron sheepishly stepped back, as if he was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Aaron, you may be the boss in the office but in the kitchen? We both know Y/N is the only one I trust to help me cook, so leave her be and come relax in the other room, ok? She clearly has dessert handled.” 

“Thank you, Rossi.” You smirked, pushing Aaron back with a floured covered hand. “I told him I could handle a pie, but you know what he’s like.”

“I’m just offering to help.”

“Which I thank you for, but I got this,” you assured, even if he clearly disagreed. 

“I know, but it’s been a long day, why don’t you let me finish this-”

“Aaron Hotchner, go and sit down. Now.”

Rossi’s eyes widened as he let the bickering continue, waiting until he had finished filling his glass before he decided to weigh in again. He knew the pair of you better than you knew yourselves sometimes and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what was going on here. 

Aaron was protective of those he loved at the best of times, but something was different - and considering you hadn’t touched any of the drinks that had been put in front of you tonight, he had a pretty good idea what.  

“Aaron,” he sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, come have a drink with me and the team. We both know Y/N is going to be ok. She’ll join us in a minute, or she’ll ask if she needs help.” 

"But-"

"Leave the poor girl alone," Rossi teased, shooting you both a knowing look. “Otherwise, you'll give yourselves away before we even get to dinner.”

Aaron coughed but failed to hide the shock on his face. It was no use either of you trying to deny it, not when your closest friends were also profilers. If anything, you were surprised you two had been able to hide it this long - and it had only been a mere week since you’d first told him the good news. 

“Ah,” he choked, turning slightly red. However, he relaxed as soon as you turned and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He could see you were relieved by the discovery, rather than upset, and that was enough to make him remember who it was he was sharing the news with. 

"Ha! I told youuuuu,” you sang smugly. “And now you owe me $50. I knew you’d be the one to give it away.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I will.” 

“Well, congratulations to you both,” Rossi said simply, lifting his glass in a silent toast. He then shook Aaron’s hand and reached to pull you into a hug of his own. However, it was he went to let you go that he paused. “And Y/N? If you do need a break, or want me to finish dessert, I can-“

"Oh my god, Rossi! Not you too,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “Are you going to tell anyone?”  

“Oh, hell no,” he chuckled. “Given your performance tonight, I want to see if you can manage to keep it a secret from the team until dinner, let alone until work on Monday."

"So much for the being the best profilers in the US," you snorted, remembering how it had been Jack who had first worked it out rather than his usually observant father. He'd been the one to spot the pregnancy pamphlets hidden in your purse, after digging to find the candy he knew you always kept in there.

Of course, he'd only reacted with excitement upon learning he was going to be a big brother - leading to him bursting into the house, asking when he'd get to play with his new sibling... yeah, you'd thought Aaron was about to pass out he went so white.

“Hey, now. In my defence,” Aaron protested, “you're not showing yet."

"So my weird ass craving requests didn't tip you off?"

"Honey, you eat so much weird shit normally... Like, so much. Even Jack wouldn't eat half the stuff you do."

Well, he had you there. "... You still owe me $50."

[i-cant-sing]

Hello! I read your Baldwin fics and gotta say that they're really good! I can't help but smile when I read them.

I saw you respond to an ask about him and pregnancy and I remembered this fact about how women are SUPPOSED to give birth standing up/kneeling/squatting because it makes the process not only quicker but less painful, and how there was a special basket + a midwife who'd catch the baby. It apparently used to be very popular, until some king I don't remember the name of decided he liked watching births, which was only possible if the woman was laying down. And over time (presumably bc that king had women do this multiple times), giving birth while laying down became more and more popular.

All this to say... If/when y/n gives birth to their baby, would he want her to do it kneeling/squatting or laying down?

???? WHAT DO YOU MEAN???? OFC BALDWIN AKA GREENEST FLAG YANDERE wouldnt want you to suffer. Child birth is a dangerous feat as is, he cant ever be happy by watching you suffer. Any way/position that would has the lowest chances of pain is the way to go. Lets say that if reader does get pregnant and is about to deliver, do you have any idea of his turmoil? HIS STRESS AS HE HEARS YOU WHIMPER AND SCREAM IN PAIN??? HE HAS HALF THE MIND TO KNOCK YOU OUT AND RIP THE CHILD OUT OF YOU- MAYBE EVEN PUNT IT IN ADRENALINE RUSH BECAUSE NO ONE-! NO ONE IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOU.

If the physicians are like "but your majesty, the queen needs to bear a little longer/needs to be in this painful position for the safety of the baby-" fuck that child, he doesnt need a stupid heir- not when it would compromise your health.

I feel like after you have delivered the first baby, and if it was like a particularly traumatising event for you two, not only would he apologise but he would even promise that you dont need to try for another one again- even if his advisors suggest otherwise.

Its actually heartbreaking to see how he almost LOSES HIS MIND when you go into labour. He's listening to you scream and it takes every fibre in his being to not rip his hair out in distress. His heart practically sinks at the thought of you dying mid labour and he wants to smash his head for ever thinking this was a good idea.

Once all is said and done, he'd just have his "bundle of joy" swaddled in one arm while he sits on the bed by your side, whispering a string of apologies to your unconscious self, kissing your sweaty temple over and over again with tears pooled in his eyes.

[yagirlpurplefox12]

Logan’s Firecracker

(Logan Howlett x Female Reader Insert)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“When you get to young Xavier, tell him to find me. Young me would have loved to have been in a school like that,” you pant out to Logan with blood dripping down your nose.

“(F/N)—!”

“Now go, I’ll hold them off.”

Tears start to make his vision blurry as he clenches his jaw…very unwilling to let you go but he knows he has to. The Sentinels have taken over and he has to go back in time to stop this from ever happening…but that means losing you…

“(F/N), I…”

Looking from his face to the door, you know the others are holding off as best as they can but dying at drastically quick rate. Focusing back to Logan, you give a small carefree smile and kiss him on the lips. The first and last kiss.

“I love you too. Now go fix the past and tell Xavier to find me. Bye, Logan.”

Getting away from his grasps, you salute the others in the room and lock the door behind you. In front of you is carnage and more Sentinels than before. Getting ready, you feel the space and gravity around you and send out a burst of gravikinesis force sending the Sentinels flying.

You know you are going to die like your friends before you. But be damn if you let them get to Logan and the rest of hope without a fight.

And a fight did you bring.

Along with a horrible death in the process.

But technically that never happened.

Now Logan stands in X’s office as he is given the details on what happened after 1973. Seeing Jean, Scott, and everyone else, he’s happy to have everything back to how it should have been. Though, there is one person on his mind he can’t forget.

“Logan, as I said before you have a class to teach. Now since you just learned about the changes, I’ll be in the classroom with you if you want.”

“That may be best,” Logan grumbles, still thinking about his girl. About you. A strong woman who made him realize love can come anytime and in surprising ways. A young woman originally from shield who had gravitational powers. You were also much younger than him meeting him when you were 23. But as the two years past with the both of you fighting side by side, more than a friendship blossomed but was never dealt with considering the uncertainties of death.

Arriving to the classroom, Logan notices some young friendly faces that either died battling the Sentinels or should be with Magneto instead of here.

After class greets him and Professor X and the bell rings, the door suddenly slams open and a flustered, short, young adult with a shit eating grin on her face chuckles nervously.

“Sorry I was late Logan, training got a little fun now that I can do some cool shit.” Professor X shakes his head at your language in front of the kids as the class laughs at your seemingly normal everyday behavior.

Seeing you, Logan can’t help but to feel that tight feeling around his heart and throat. Looking down at Xavier, the older bald man smiles at him and nods.

Logan then looks back at you and watches you.

“(F/N),” he starts, catching your attention.

“ I know, I know, language. It’s a hard adjustment.”

“How about taking over today’s lesson?”

Your eyes widen and you start to giggle out of nervousness and anticipation, “Wait, for real?”

He nods and tells Professor X he’s not needed.

‘How about you take the day off and be with her? Since you’re officially back now, I think you deserve some peace.’

Logan smiles and nods his head, Xavier now rolling to the door but not before telling you to behave. As he sits back and watches you teach the class in a VERY entertaining way keeping the young teens attention, he feels a burning sensation behind his eyes. He’s grateful he doesn’t remember anything after 1973, for it would honestly be super awkward if he had to see you as a child. He’s grateful Xavier listened and, just like he told Logan in his office before they headed to the classroom, Xavier found you just a week before you accidentally kills your family and everyone in the apartment building. He’s just really happy to see you, alive, and as geeky and animated as ever. Like you’ve never changed. No matter what pst or future, you’ll always have the lovely, bubbly spirit. Once class ends, Logan gives them homework and as Xavier promised he let everyone know there will be no history class for the rest of the day, surprising you.

“(F/N), how about we go out and enjoy our free day?”

“….really?”

Logan can’t help to feel flustered but he knows he has to do this, he doesn’t know if you feel for him the same as in the other timeline, but he would regret it if he never tried.

“Well I’m on my period and I’ve been craving strawberry ice cream and Puerto Rican food,” you slide up to him with the smiles he wants you to wear everyday as long as you live. He wonders if he himself before ever pulled a move on you, whether that is taking you out in a date or simply hugging you. He gives back your smiles and gives in to his feelings for you. Reaching behind your head, he grasps the back and messages between the lower part of your head and your nape. “Let me get you those well deserved treats.” Your cheeks flush from his actions and words but your smile only grows bigger. “Well, let’s go then! Oooh, and last week you promised me a ride on your bike, let’s go,” you grab his hand and he lets you pull him towards the garage. You answered is unheard question. He is meant to like you and from your hopping and smiling and even flushing his arm to your body, you are meant to like him as well. Your arms squeezes to him and you lay your protected head on his back the whole ride to the closest town that you said has Puerto Rican food.

It’s lunch time by then but since it’s a workday not many are out. He buys all the food you want and lets you feed him yourself of everything he never had. The whole day, the two of you were getting closer and closer. “Logan, are you feeling alright?”

“Hmm?”

The two of you are ending your day licking ice cream after spending and hour and a half at a book store. Piles of bags are next to him, every book he saw you remotely interested, he bought.

Had to get a lot of gay manga but if it makes you happy, it makes him happy.

“Well, you’re always so broody and very cold many times. You also have a tendency to yell at me and abuse the hell out of me during training, but for the past month or two you’ve been very nice to me…and today…I guess what I’m saying is don’t be an asshole and get my hopes up. I know you know I like you, I mean since I was 15 I’ve literally asked you to be my prom date every year. Was this day just to tell me that I’ll never have a chance or what?”

Logan freezes for a moment, and watches your face get saddened per second. He remembers from the other timeline of you being insecure about…well everything. You were just always joyful while making stupid untrue comments about yourself. He’s not gonna let you think like that.

Gently grabbing your chin, he guides your face to his and wait, seeing if you’ll object. Your eyes and the lick to your lips give him no objection. Moving forwards, both of your mouths collide to a deep and passionate kiss. Your bodies feeling the same tingle and longing. Dropping your ice cream to the ground, you grasp his hair, pulling to get a deeper kiss as he groans in your mouth. “I love you (F/N), I want to take you on dates every weekend, treat you like the queen you are, and god I want you so badly,” he states between kisses. You can’t help but feel for him the same, “I love you too Logan. I just can’t believe a hunk of a man like you would be interested in flabby me.”

“Don’t talk about yourself that way, you’re gorgeous inside and out,” he growls at you.

You guys headed home right after that, but Logan wants to take his time with you. To cherish you. You invite him to your room to watch the Child’s Play series, cuddling, and eating popcorn and snacks. He kisses your head and inhales your scent. He scents your shampoo, perfume, skin, and even the little musk of want coming from under the covers. “Love you Logan, can you sleep here, with me?”

“Of course, love you too you little firecracker.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey hey, was wondering if you could do a headcannon for jason and dick when their s/o is sick cause im sick as hell rn and need some comfort <3

I hope you get better anon and I also hope that this gives you something to chuckle at in the meantime.

Jason:

He’s like a mother hen when your sick and it wouldn’t been funny…had you not been sick and forcibly bed bound by him.

‘Jason.’ You groaned. ‘I’m dying.’

Jason looks at you blankly. ‘Hi dying I’m Jason, now take your god damn medicine.’

He takes your recovery more seriously and makes sure that you take your medicine on time when they were needed. And if you were to make things difficult for yourself, he will straddle you if needs be just for you to take medicine that you were upset wasn’t grape flavoured…

Will tuck the blankets right under your chin if you’re feeling cold and if you were still feeling cold, he’ll offer you one of his warmer hoodies to wear in hopes that they’d stop.

He honestly can’t either you sometimes but has to remember that he loves you and that he’d stick by you no matter what, even if you do act like an outraged child when sick.

God sake do not ask him to get you ice cream when you’re sick, he will forbade you from eating that crap. You’re meant to be getting better, not worse.

He even makes you a nice warm soup amongst other foods to help you during your recovery process also.

Jason may seem strict in his methods in taking care of you but he means well and will apologise if he thinks he’s been a bit too much of a dick by sitting bedside and holding your hand, kissing it every so often.

‘I’m sorry if it seems like I’m being harsh chipmunk, I’m only trying to help.’ He’d say.

‘If you’re being sorry for being a dick, then it’s only fair that I say sorry for acting so childish when you’re only trying to help. And I really appreciate you for everything you’ve done for me.’ You’d reply as you both let out a chuckle before you allowed Jason to take care of you without any complaints to be made.

You get better by the end of the week and Jason spoils you by letting you have all the ice cream you could dream of, but please for his sake don’t eat it too fast and get brain freeze.

Dick:

Will let you eat ice cream because how can he say no to your sad, sick face.

Even when sick Dick spoils the hell out of you.

Does not make the situation any better in all honesty.

He’ll probably take more offence that you were sick than yourself as he takes your temperature and tutting.

‘38°?’ Dick says as he looks down at the thermometer and muttering under his breath, ‘Not good.’

You only look at him blankly before sniffling as you cling to your plush frog, unamused. ‘I hate you.’

He’d might even get Hayley to help ‘heal’ you by just letter her be her cutest self and not currently crushing your legs, seeing as how she’s not a little blue pup anymore. she’s yours and Dick’s baby however and you didn’t care because seeing her try to nurse you back to health with her licking never failed to put a smile on your face.

‘Thank you sweetheart Im beginning to feel much better.’ You say as Hayley continued aggressively licking your arms, hands and face.

If you were to tell dick you were cold/still cold, his immediate response was the cuddle you but when you stop him to remind him that your sick, he only shrugs and probably boasts that he’s got great immunity before cuddling you. (Lies utter lies)

Let’s be honest he probably ends up getting sick after you start to recover and demands for you to repay him for taking care of you.

dick is okay at making food but might mutter ‘this isn’t the way it looked when Alfred made it’ under his breath while making you some simple soup before consulting Hayley, who only whimpers and shies away from it.

‘Take out it is then.’ He’d say and tries to take credit for it once it comes, but you see through the bullshit but we’re too sick to say anything about it.

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

i love your headcanons! can you write percy jackson x daughter of hades??

(nsfw, sfw, or both)

percy jackson dating a daughter of hades

pairings: percy jackson x reader

warnings: (sfw) + nsfw

author's note: I love writing nsfw, remember that I always age up the characters when writing NSFW!

->masterlist

art by vidia

Being the daughter of hades has its perks, people stay away from you the moment you were claimed. They know better, but the bad thing is that you couldnt find yourself getting comfortable with others if it meant that you couldn't use your powers completely during games/sparring.

Luckily for you, percy is your guy. he can keep up with any attacks or summons or any power you have - and he does not let you down.

he never gets scared of anything you show him (perks of defeating a one titan and one goddess before the age of 18).

Besides, he has two good friends who are also a child of hades/pluto. He is interested in what you can do, but respects it if you dont wanna show him.

In a relationship percy does not mind showing what he likes about you, touching you, holding hands and lacing your fingers together everywhere, staring at you across the room and quirking up an eyebrow in a teasing way (just to see if you react or not).

in a relationship, I feel like percy has no shame in trying to make you flustered, in the same way he does not mind showing you how he likes it.

grabbing your waist when you stand and talk to someone, butting in when you dance with someone other than him, trying to tease you and flirt with you across the room - knowing damn well people are enjoying the show.

He loves to see how you react when he touches your delicate spots, the small of your back, your spine, thigh, inner wrists, anything that has soft skin he is willing to simply graze it with his long fingers - and pull back when you look at him.

other times he just full on stares at you in challenge, like he knows you cant resist the simple touches.

you might ask,

what are you doing?

but he will always give the same answer or some type off variant,

what do you think i'm doing?

by the way, he definetly know you like it when he talks in a husky and deep way. his voice already got deep during puberty, but he really takes it to another level.

he likes to watch you with hooded eyes when he lets out a deep chuckle, he knows you like the vibration coming from his throat.

he knows you like his warmth, and has no issues pressing close to you, even while standing. imagine youre just standing somewhere, and he suddenly comes and bumps his chest close to your body, and keeps it there. he doesnt grind or do anything but he just likes pressing himself close to you.

he wants to know the way you like it.

he likes it when you kiss his neck instead of his lips. or when you check him out from afar, but when he gets close you get shy

ugghhh bedroom eyes pleeeassee stop it percy. he knows a nice blush will form on your face or he has at least memorized what you do, what type of facial expressions you make when you're flustered. this man knows you from the inside out. understands your likes and dislikes and makes it his whole entire personality.

he gets reminded of you whenever he is with someone, wether its someones laugh or anything romantic really. his mind doozes off and he starts to think about you, your lips and your voice, your body underneath him--

he quickly pulls himself away from such thoughts, gets embarassed. but if you are dating, he's bound to think about something at least.

using his powers to make you feel good, forcing the water to give you a nice massage

whenever he watches you use your powers he gets somewhat turned on when you're being intimidating.

i dont want to be stereotypical, but if you do wear dark-coloured clothes and have piercings, dyed hair he just likes the fact that you stick out. but if he likes you, then you are the center of his universe.

things would start out slow between you two,

kisses and flirting->following each other around->

to suddenly backing each other against the wall or any surface

teasing both by pushing your limits, he likes to tilt his head to the side and watch you with his eyes while you try to keep a poker-face.

too bad, percy has mastered the art of poker-faced (refrence to kane chronicles and percy jackson crossover), he can go all day (and yes i mean that in both ways-or all ways)

but he's hesitant to go further with you, so initiate it.

istg, imagine him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his beautiful face - while you get changed slowly on purpose (he knows but he's enjoying the show), and just cast a glance over your shoulder and hes locked it, he will only focus his gaze on you. even if people call his name from outside his cabin, he wont turn his back. he takes in every feature, every movement,...

sheesh his toned abdomen. he didn't think it did anything to you at first, but he noticed how you would watch his shirt roll up whenever he leaned back or how your gaze would flicker to his biceps - so he started to wear his sweatpants low, like really low just to see your reaction. even if you dont make a big deal out of it, he knows you're screaming inside.

in percy's mind, theres something about knowing that someone desires you that makes him give that in return to you. like if he knows you want him, his desires for you grows twice as strong. knowing someone wants him, every part of him, that is enough to spark arousal in this guy.

do anything and he is watching. you are special to him, his one and only. and as the poets say, you are his other half.

touchign and playing with your hair, expose some of your neck, or just watch him with casual eyes and he just gives you a knowing-smirk. he knows when you want it and when you're up for it.

i feel like hes the type of guy to get turned on when you get turned on, your reactions are important to him. you moan, he moans. its as simple as that.

if you like to change up your style every now and then hes transfixed by the way you're casual one day and suddenly glamorous, or when you dress with clothes that most wouldnt wear or when you dress according to a group like the punks, goths or tomboys - hes just fascinated by you.

licks his lips and watched your lips when you talk. you dont even need to be talking to you. hes just memorizing your features. and when hes done with that he chooses the he likes the most.

ogle ogle ogle

quit staring

is a coming saying from you. you're met with the same response,

*quirks eyebrow and doesnt say anything, poker-faced*

sometimes you're met with a smirk.

sheesh. i feel like when he gets flustered he doesnt want to stop staring at you but he does anyway because he wants to try to hide it. lowering his head, looking away quickly and looking down -> smiling at himself for such a reaction but also silently complimenting you for making him react in such a way. everyday is exciting, he wants more. i guess this guy likes the adrenalin, perhaps is reminds him of the curse of achillies in a way?

sing a song and dance around or lip sync. i feel like he sometimes manspreads guys, like i know its annoying when you're sitting next to someone, but he means no harm. besides, usually on the subway he stands even if theres an empty seat.

but when he is sitting he spreads and leans back and watches you. sometimes he comes forward and rests his forearms on his knees to get a better view. if someone gets in the view ex. stands in front of him or blocks the view, he clicks his tongue and tries to look around. if a guy starts talking to you or dances with you theres a minuscule feeling of bitter hate in his chest that runs pretty hot and deep in his veins, luckily he doesnt make a scene but just sits there irritated. wipe that frown off his face plz.

has developed a habit of touching his hair and scratching his neck because of you. he starting doing does habits becuase he wants to seem cool and look good, but also because he gets nervous

he naturally smells like sea-water, but started to wear a musky, deep, hollow scent as his cologne so that when he puts his jacket around you - you can smell him and smell like him the rest of the day/night.

likes it when you lay in his bed so he remembers how you smell, its comforting - but not always good if it keeps him up at night

not a very innapropriate or suggestive person but gives his friends "the look" when you're being sexy on purpose. not to make fun of you or undermine you, but because he needs to make sure everyone is also getting this, phew.

like i said, he likes your scent - but secretly lays down in your bed (even if you're in the top bunk hes going to climb up there shamelessly) so that it smells like you and hopes it keeps you awake at night too.

if you try to tease him for staring or try to stare back at him he maintains eye contact and sometimes blurts out:

pretty

[starandcloud]

Simon Riley Imagine

You hadn't exactly seen "Ghost" before

You had always just seen... Simon, the sweet man who had always been there for you and made sure you were okay when you had bad days and the man that had been on your doorstep one night crying and letting out incoherent babbles about someone dying you hadn't questioned and just took him in, made him tea and food and got him blankets and watched stupid reality TV things with him until he calmed down The man who had held you so tenderly when you came to him with a burn on your hand and treated it, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin above it. Which earned him a smack on the head and a scold at his antics of treating you like a child, making the both of you laugh The man who had been your drinking buddy for years, who always came over (when he could) and drank with you. Neither of you ever got wasted, just tipsy and you were always so happy around him and vice versa. You had heard rumors about "Ghost" and you always stared in bewilderment when someone said that Simon was Ghost. The first time you heard it, you and Simon were at a shelter picking out cats for the two of you. Someone had approached you and asked if you were okay and if he was hurting you, you couldn't hide the offended look on your face and you glanced at Simon. Who was holding the littlest kitten in his hands and softly playing with the little thing, which made you shoot back a comment as you finished signing the paperwork. You didn't believe a thing anyone told you about Simon being the "Ghost" until you saw it.

It had been a late night when you disappeared, and taken somewhere you refused to remember. You remembered the thousands of hours, the months you were there, the scars that littered your skin. Everything you couldn't ignore, but... you did remember the gun fire that entered the room with those men. That skull mask that covered someone's face and... you remember screaming towards the men that had barged in.

"Who are you!?" and "STAY BACK!"

As they approached, you heard a voice (well several), and your blood froze.

"Simon..."

Your voice cracked as you lunged towards him, the chain on the wall holding you back and breaking the skin where the rusty metal bit in. You sobbed into his chest as he held you, his face buried in your neck as he soothingly rubbed the bare skin there. A jacket, his jacket, was put around you as the chain was cut and you fell into Simon. You couldn't stand, your legs had been broken and healed wrong, so you just... couldn't stand anymore. So Simon carried you, he carried you with such care that you almost forgot the blood that now covered the both of you. He kissed your head as you rode in the jeep with them, your skin discolored from the dirt and bruises you had been inflicted with during your four months there. You were in the hospital for weeks, and Physical Therapy for months, before you were allowed out on your own again. But after that you stuck close to Simon, who didn't understand why. Most people, in his experience, didn't want to be around after that saw "Ghost". Most people were to scared but... he forgot how... different you were. You weren't most people, you were his people. There were only a few people who stuck around after, most were only his teammates but you. You stuck around and still loved him after. You were his people. His person. And he vowed that he'd never let anything happen to you ever again.

COD Mainlist

Mainlist

[antigonenikk]

What it would actually be like to date various HBOWAR men (modern au):

by me and @guarnerepdf

Speirs:

-is a cokehead finance bro

-you wake up in the middle of the night to him watching you sleep with no explanation given, just an eery smile

-is gaslighting you for purposes unknown (moving your furniture one inch to the left etc)

-buys you the fucking tackiest expensive jewelry and designer clothes as random gifts but half of it is fake

-you justify staying because he takes you to NOBU but you’re afraid to google him

-malarkey keeps telling you he's a serial killer but he has such beautiful hair

-lipton keeps handing you domestic violence brochures when he thinks no one is looking. you throw them away because you want that fucking ugly gucci belt! and the staring is sort of charming after a while

-possibly has a secret child that he is hiding from you. you're not sure.

-the first time you have sex he chokes you without asking and is confused when you get mad at him over it.

-does coke while eating dry fruit loops cereal in the morning. somehow looks hot while doing it.

Liebgott and Webster:

-challengers level toxic throuple, these two come as a pair!

-liebgott is xanned out so badly on the regular that he does not remember the last time he washed his hands.

-lieb met bill and toye in rehab and now all his friends are undergrads even though he's going on thirty.

-lieb won't kiss you in the morning "goddamn it woman, brush your teeth" but will kiss webster no problem!

-lieb likes webster more, but web likes you more because you don't call him slurs and you let him rant to you about sharks.

-you and web unionize at some point to get liebgott back into rehab. when he's gone you realize your relationship is 200 million times healthier but also extremely boring. you take him back the minute he releases himself AMA.

-lieb cannot figure out how to work tiktok, meanwhile webster has 100k subscribers on youtube and does grwm story time videos.

-you once had to be driven home by babe from the gas station after lieb kicked you out of the car. the fight was because he didn't believe you when you said you were allergic to gluten. babe lets you play cinnamon girl by lana del rey on the way home.

-lieb keeps trying to weaponize therapy language against you, 'baby you're fucking gaslighting me!' webster just makes it worse when he tries to explain what the terms actually mean.

Bill:

-you start dating Bill after he steals you away from Babe. Babe was nice, but you got the ick immediately after realizing he's not the leader of the friend group.

-bill sends you disgusting dick pics with extremely poor lighting. you can see his bottle of lotion in the background.

-you think it's sweet that he brings flowers when you go out until you realize they're stolen from the neighbor's flowerbed.

-you have an extremely lavish jersey shore wedding that culminates in a horrible fight when he shoves cake in your face ruining your 400 dollar makeup (that you paid for) and your 2000 dollar dress (that you paid for). during your vows babe has to hold himself back from saying something when the priest asks if there are any objections.

-DIRTY fingernails! does not wash his hands. gives you a UTI but doesn't understand that it's his fault.

-Doesn't cheat but is always on the brink of it.

-Follows multiple swimsuit models on Insta, claims it's okay because 'sweetheart, listen, it's all on the screen!'

-Is so cheap he refuses to pay for extra sugar for your coffee, 'you've had it bitter before, babe.' you are ready to murder him. takes you to chili's and acts like it's a michelin star restaurant.

Talbert:

-cheats on you immediately. within the first week.

-sends you anonymous texts to get STD tested, too scared to actually go to the clinic but is certain he's dying of syphilis.

-cries to lip for an hour when you leave him for speirs.

Gale Cleven:

-'sweetheart. are you really gonna wear that out to dinner? it's a bit...well... risque.'

-accuses you of being an alchoholic every time you drink, but Bucky has done four Jeagerbombs tonight and isn't getting any lectures. Also. Why is Bucky with you two on your date night?

-is straight but keeps stringing Bucky along because he reminds him of his father and for narcissism reasons.

-marge messages you on facebook to warn you about him, and also to sell you on her new MLM scheme.

-bucky keeps giving you mean little grins as he hangs off your man....you are very close to murdering him.

-you finally leave him after he calls you daddy in bed. not mommy. but daddy.

Bucky:

-gives you chlamidya three weeks into dating. gaslights you into thinking you got it from sitting on a public toilet seat.

-drives drunk while you're in the passenger seat, goes above 90 and almost kills the both of you.

-is in love with gale and you both know it but refuses to talk about it.

-laughs when you start crying over your new STD diagnosis.

-is the worst boyfriend in the entire world. do not date this man!

Leckie:

-cheats on you with vera, but has a jealous meltdown everytime you talk to hoosier at house parties. you were literally just asking the man for a lighter.

-hoosier is stirring shit up for shits and giggles. he keeps liking your thirst trap insta photos, commenting 'photo cred'

-cries when you confront him about cheating. writes a poem to you about how badly hurt he was by the whole situation. says he only did it because that's how he was raised! no one taught him how to love properly!!

-exploits his family trauma at any given opportunity, shameless about it

-writes you sweet yet cringy love poems

-chuckler keeps trying to warn you but is so awkward about it that you just end up super confused

-blows up the minute you try and critique his writing

-tells you you're acting 'just like you're mother!' during arguments

-eventually you break up because you cheat on him with hoosier and he cheats on you again with vera

Hoosier:

-completely emotionally unavailable

-laughs at you in the middle of a fight, then when you storm out he stares at the wall for four hours straight. no blinking. no moving.

-goes to chuckler thinking he's dying because he has a 'weird feeling in his stomach.' the feeling is literally just a crush.

-catches leckie flirting with you. doesn't cause a scene but DOES immediately cheat on you as a retaliatory action. has no idea why you're mad about it.

-determined to hurt you before you hurt him.

-somehow makes you think you're in the wrong due to the sheer FORCE of his conviction that it was okay for him to cheat on you.

-you two break up but get back together after having a baby. the baby is possibly not hoosier's but he's a genuinely good father. (the baby very obviously has leckie's face. no one is fooled.)

-during your wedding ceremony leckie has to be thrown out after making the worst best man speech of all time.

-parent teacher conferences are a nightmare because your child is biting the other kids and is failing all her classes. hoosier blames you for not helping her with her homework. you all go out to souplantation afterwards and he keeps dropping barbs about you being a dumbass.

-the two of you stay married for 40 beautiful years before dying of old age. within those 40 years you separate and get back together a total of 5 times. leckie somehow outlives you both.

Luz:

-is sweet and lovely and handsome and makes you laugh a lot but

-you're banned from six movie theatres, three bars, the pier, disneyland, and a froyo shop

-you don't even LIKE froyo but the fact that you can't fucking go there anymore is driving you up the wall

-you got kicked out of disneyland because he got into a fistfight with donald duck

-his mother HATES you. she is the ultimate boy mom. they are constantly talking about you in Portuguese behind your back. she wears white to your wedding.

-cannot go grocery shopping because he's stopped every five feet by some old acquaintance. you have no idea how he knows any of these people!

Eugene:

-you're his beard but he doesn't know it

-is the ideal gay boyfriend/husband

-buys you flowers and takes you out on beautiful dates. cringes when you try to kiss him

-everything would be PERFECT except snafu keeps creating dummy accounts to harass you, drives by your house at all hours of the night, and you're pretty sure he's planning to SWAT you.

-eugene has no idea why you hate snafu? he's such a sweet guy!

Babe:

-you're a bit embarrassed to tell your friends you're dating him....he's sweet but just so dorky

-almost puked on you after taking a dab at bill's house. you had to comfort him for ten minutes

-long suffering angel who you cheat on because you know he's just too good for you.... better to hurt him before he leaves you first!

-is popular on tiktok somehow. you have no idea how this happened but it did

[night-lakmen]

Ok let's go.

nsfw beyond this.

Tw- Sleepy kisses, so much smut. Oral (f!receiving), fingering. Cuddle sex. Horny young couples.

After the battle of Manhattan, many had assumed you two had ended your relationship with one dead after a sacrifice and the other still in camp with the badge of Aphrodite counselor on her chest.

What they forgot was how stubborn Aphrodite kids could be when it came to their love.

Even though Luke and you had been on different sides of the war, the gods themselves knew no one could truly separate you from him, the root from its tree, a daughter of Aphrodite from her lover. There was nothing he did that you supported other than his motives, but deep down everyone could see the way Luke felt for you even when he was possessed by Kronos.

The Titan Lord himself had admitted to him finding it incredibly strange and overwhelming, just how much the body felt for you. After he stabbed himself in the arm to end the battle, you had sworn to bring him back—even if you needed to give up your very title of the dagger of Aphrodite, the honor Aphrodite herself had bestowed upon you.

It hadn't been easy.

Days and nights through Tartarus and the underworld, quests and tasks for the gods, multiple fights with monsters and facing Nyx herself had taken their toll on you but you kept moving.

For him, for the boy with the sweetest brown eyes you had ever seen.

The day he had been returned to you, you already knew something was wrong with him. He felt paler and weaker, his body almost crumpling in your arms as you held him up to kiss and caress his face with your own bruised palms. The world had completely sucked him off his energy, his body having given away due to the pain of dying as a traitor in his own mind. Yet when he had spoken, his voice was one of hope and pure love.

"...Ribbons?"

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

It had been 2 years after that. Away from Camp Half-Blood, away from the life of demigods and monsters, you two had created a small family where you two lived as normally as an ex-traitor and the ex-golden child of Aphrodite could.

A house in the outskirts of a city with a white fence, a black retriever he had named Oscar, and walls with the babiest shade of blue—it was everything you two had promised each other under the stars as young kids in love. The war, the crimson clovers that had been shed for you to get all of this, didn’t seem to matter whenever you were with him. Luke, now 24, had taken up a job as a marketing executive for a company you couldn't really remember and you had restarted your career as a model, earning enough money for both of you to live a comfortable life together.

**

The sun peaked through the windows, drenching the sheets of the young couple in its warm golden glow. The bodies under it stirred, the larger man wrapping an arm around the girl who was nuzzled against his bare chest.

"Mh.." he groaned, turning his head towards the window to mentally curse Eos for letting dawn in so soon. His brown hair was a mess around his face, spread out over the pink pillowcases his wife had forced him to put on his pillow as well ('to keep the hair healthy'), and as always he had given in to her pouty lips and the big e/c colored eyes.

His head lowered down to the girl sleeping against his chest, her hair ruffled over the side of her face like a curtain of pure beauty. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she slept, her lips parted open ever so slightly. She still wore those violet pajamas she had bought online a few months ago, even though he assured her he wouldn't mind it if she slept naked. His hand moved up to caress her face, a small wince coming upon his features as he saw the old scar on the side of her neck left from her battling one of the Telekhines who had tried to stop her on her way to him. It was filled in well now, the only scar left on her otherwise smooth skin.

Their platinum marriage bands were mirrors of each other, with their initials carved on it like some promise to never let go of each other.

From Tartarus to back, with each other.

"Good morning, Ribbons," he whispered, kissing the top of her ear in a way he knew she loved. The nickname had stayed with them from their time back at the camp, a reminder of how he used to tease her for her habit of adding a ribbon to everything she wore. "Wake up, baby."

His hand slowly trailed down her back, fingertips dancing along her spine, sending shivers through her body. She stirred slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips as she felt his warm breath against her neck. He nuzzled closer, pressing gentle kisses along her neck, his lips brushing against her skin in a way that made her toes curl."Mmh... Luke," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze, a sleepy smile spreading across her face."Good morning, beautiful," he whispered, his hand sliding up under her pajama top to caress her bare back. She arched into his touch, sighing contentedly as he traced lazy circles on her skin."Is it morning already?" she asked, her voice a mix of sleepiness and contentment.

"Unfortunately, yes," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "But that doesn't mean we have to get up just yet."She giggled softly, turning in his arms to face him. Her hands came up to cup his face, pulling him into a slow, lingering kiss. He responded eagerly, deepening the kiss as his hand moved lower, tracing the curve of her hip."I like the sound of that," she whispered against his lips, her fingers threading through his hair. He smiled, kissing her again, more fervently this time, his hand sliding up to cup her breast, eliciting a soft gasp from her.

You're always so eager in the mornings," she teased, her lips brushing against his as she spoke."Can you blame me?" he murmured, his voice husky. "Waking up next to you like this... it's impossible to resist."

She blushed, her heart swelling with love for him. "I suppose I can forgive you," she said playfully, leaning in to capture his lips in another kiss. He groaned softly, his hand sliding down to cup her bottom, pulling her closer.

Their kisses grew more heated, their bodies pressing together, hands exploring and caressing. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her as he nuzzled against her neck, his breath hot against her skin. She moaned softly, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he trailed kisses down her throat, his hands roaming over her body with a possessive tenderness.

His hands slid down her back, resting on her hips as he gently pulled her on top of him. She let out a soft laugh, her hair falling around them like a h/c curtain as she straddled his waist. He looked up at her, eyes filled with adoration, his hands tracing lazy circles on her thighs.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Every day I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest man alive."

She blushed, her heart fluttering at his words. Leaning down, she kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his as their bodies pressed closer together. His hands roamed up her sides, slipping under her top to caress the soft skin of her back. She sighed into the kiss, her fingers threading through his hair as she deepened it, their breaths mingling in the quiet morning air.

Luke's hands moved to the hem of her pajama top, slowly lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. His eyes roamed appreciatively over her exposed skin, his hands following the path of his gaze, brushing over her breasts and making her shiver.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper.

"Good," she replied with a playful smile, leaning down to press kisses along his jawline, her hands splayed on his chest. "Because you drive me crazy too."

He groaned softly, his hands gripping her waist as she continued to kiss her way down his neck. She could feel his heartbeat quicken under her touch, his skin warm and inviting. Her lips trailed down to his collarbone, her kisses growing more fervent as she moved lower.

Luke's hands moved up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples and sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She gasped, arching into his touch, her hands gripping his shoulders for support. He smiled up at her, his eyes dark with desire, before pulling her down for another deep, searing kiss.

"Gods, I love you," he breathed against her lips, his hands sliding down to grip her hips once more. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never letting you go."

Her heart swelled at his words, her own hands roaming over his chest and abdomen, savoring the feel of his muscles under her fingertips.

"You don't have to do anything," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "Just love me."

"Always," he promised, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom, pulling her closer. She could feel his arousal pressing against her, a reminder of the desire simmering between them. She ground against him, eliciting a low groan from his lips as his hands gripped her even tighter.

She smiled, leaning down to kiss him again, her lips trailing down his neck to his chest. Her hands roamed over his body, tracing the scars and lines she had come to know so well. Each touch, each kiss, was a promise, a reaffirmation of the love and desire that bound them together.

Luke's hands continued to explore her body, his touch both gentle and possessive. He pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in another searing kiss, their bodies moving together in a slow, intimate dance. The world outside their little haven faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other."I can't believe we made it here," she whispered against his lips, her voice thick with emotion. "After everything... we're finally home."

His hands moved with a gentle insistence, guiding her hips as he shifted their positions, laying her back on the bed. He kissed her softly, his lips trailing down her neck, savoring the soft sighs and moans that escaped her lips. His hands slid down her sides, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with hers, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Let's get these off," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide her pajamas down her legs, leaving her completely exposed before him.

His hands caressed her thighs, spreading them gently as he kissed his way down her body. Her breath hitched as his lips trailed over her stomach, each kiss sending shivers of anticipation through her. He paused for a moment, looking up at her with a gaze filled with love and desire.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "Every inch of you."

Before she could respond, his lips continued their descent, pressing gentle kisses along her inner thighs. She gasped, her fingers tangling in the sheets as he moved closer to her core, the anticipation making her heart race. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he lowered his mouth to her most intimate place.

The first touch of his tongue made her cry out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure surged through her. He moved with practiced skill, his tongue teasing and exploring, drawing soft moans and gasps from her lips. His hands held her firmly, keeping her in place as he lavished attention on her most sensitive spots.

"Luke," she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure. "Oh gods..."

He hummed in response, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation that made her toes curl. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She could feel the tension building within her, the pleasure mounting with every touch, every flick of his tongue.

Her fingers found their way to his hair, gripping tightly as she rocked her hips against his mouth. He responded eagerly, his movements becoming more insistent, more focused. He knew exactly how to drive her to the edge, how to bring her to the brink of ecstasy and hold her there.

"Please," she gasped, her body trembling with need. "Don't stop..."

He had no intention of stopping. His tongue circled her clit, flicking and teasing, his lips closing around the sensitive nub and sucking gently. The sensation was too much, too intense, and she felt herself spiraling towards release.

Her cries filled the room as her climax crashed over her, her body shaking with the force of it. Luke held her through it, his tongue never faltering, drawing out her pleasure until she was a quivering, breathless mess. Only then did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with her arousal.

He moved back up her body, pressing soft kisses to her flushed skin, his hands caressing her sides. When he reached her lips, he kissed her deeply, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. She moaned into the kiss, her hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him closer.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips, his voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too," she replied, her voice breathless and filled with love. "So much."

Luke's hands continued their exploration, his fingers trailing teasingly over her inner thighs. She shivered at his touch, her body still buzzing with the aftershocks of her climax. He looked up at her, a devilish glint in his eyes as he licked his lips, savoring her taste.

"You taste amazing," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "I could do this all day."

"Luke," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of arousal and desperation. "Please..."

"Please what, baby?" he teased, his fingers inching closer to her core. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," she gasped, her hips arching towards his hand. "I need you."

He grinned, his fingers slipping between her folds, finding her still wet and sensitive. He stroked her slowly, his touch deliberate and teasing. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So ready."

"Yes," she breathed, her body quivering under his touch. "I want you inside me."

His fingers dipped into her entrance, sliding in easily, making her moan. He moved them slowly at first, savoring the way she responded, her hips moving to meet his thrusts. "Gods, you're so tight," he groaned, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing in slow, tantalizing circles. "You feel so good around my fingers."

She whimpered, her hands clutching at the sheets as he increased his pace, his fingers curling inside her, hitting that sweet spot that made her see stars. "Luke," she gasped, her voice breaking with need. "I need more. Please..."

He withdrew his fingers, earning a disappointed whine from her, but it was quickly replaced with a gasp of anticipation as he positioned himself between her legs. He lined himself up, his tip brushing against her entrance, teasing her further.

"Do you want this?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yes," she replied, her voice trembling with desire. "Please, Luke. I need you inside me."

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside her, filling her completely. They both moaned at the sensation, their bodies connecting in the most intimate way. He paused for a moment, letting her adjust to his size, his hands gripping her hips.

"You feel incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "So perfect."

"Move," she pleaded, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "Please, Luke."

He didn't need to be asked twice. He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, savoring the way she felt around him. Her moans filled the room, her body arching to meet his every movement, the pleasure building between them.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "So perfect. I love the way you feel."

"I love you," she gasped, her nails digging into his back as he increased his pace, each thrust driving her closer to the edge. "Oh gods, I love you so much."

"Come for me, baby," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you come around me."

His words pushed her over the edge, her climax crashing over her with a force that left her breathless. She cried out his name, her body tightening around him, pulling him deeper as she rode out her orgasm. The sensation of her walls clenching around him was too much, and with a few more thrusts, he followed her, spilling into her with a groan of pure pleasure.

They lay there, tangled in each other, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in unison. He kissed her softly, his hands caressing her sides as they both caught their breath.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "Forever and always."

"Forever and always," she echoed, her heart full to bursting with love for the man who had given her everything.

"Now get up, mister Castellan, you're late for work already" She teased with a small smile as she flicked his forehead,but Luke only smiled.

"Hm," He agreed as he lifted her hand up and kissed her knuckles thumb moving over the wedding band on her finger before he spoke again.

"I'll be alright as long as I'm late because of you,"

He looked at her, his brown eyes almost shimmering in tears.

"𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯."

[morgluvsconnie]

BOUND, c.springer

chap.5 | drinking, mild sexual reference, basically just a build up for the next chapter! | chap.4

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

everyone yelled as mikasa took her hand from over your eyes. you smiled and put your hand on your heart. “yalllll, stoppp.” you bit your lip, looking at the decorations and bags of gifts.

“you finally growing up, that shit crazy.” eren wiped a fake tear and shook his head.

your eyes scanned the long table, which fit everyone in it. you were surprised that the rest of sasha’s friends came.

“my bitchhh!” sasha hopped up, hugging you and kissing your cheek. “you’re so pretty.” she poked your cheek, making you smile. you sat at the end of the table. “thank you, like, for real. is this a whole private room?” you looked around at the beautiful theme of the restaurant.

“my pockets hurt.” armin raised his eyebrow. you smiled and covered your face with your hands.

suddenly, a bunch of waiters came in, carrying a big, pretty cake, placing it in front of you. you clapped your hands out of excitement and stood up from your stool.

with your little birthday tiara on and your birthday ribbon, you clamped your hands together as everyone started to sing happy birthday to you, getting to the end where you could finally blow out your candles.

“now cut the cake.” connie smiled a little, passing you a knife.

you cut your cake, and everyone else a piece, sasha hopping back up to pass them out.

“i feel like a child again.” you smiled softly, sitting on your stool as the waiters placed the cake in the middle of the table.

“now she think she grown ‘cus she 102, okay.” eren slowly shook his head, being the first one halfway through his cake. you gave him a playful “shut up” look and started eating your cake.

“sasha slow down.” mikasa frowned. “anyway, y/nnn, what you wanna do today? everybody’s whole day is yours.” mikasa smiled at you. “nah, ‘cus i got some sneaky links i needa see.” ony said, raising his eyebrows, everybody giving him a death stare.

“chillll. i’m fuckin witchu. my day yours, best friend.” ony put his hands up in defense.

“ion really know, ion think about things like this when my birthday comes, only before it.” you laughed a little.

“so i’ll plan the whole day.” armin nodded.

“armin, if you plan the whole day, somebody gon end up dying.” eren mumbled, reaching in front of him to cut his self another piece of cake.

“ima plan it, that’s my friend.” ony waved eren and armin off.

“you just met y/n like two days ago.” connie scoffed at ony. ony frowned and squinted, lookingat connie. “and you met her like three days ago. that don’t make nothing better. now i said that’s my friend, ain’t that right y/n?” ony looked at you.

you laughed and nodded.

“y/n can plan the day, even if she don’t know what to do.” mikasa bucked at everybody.

“girl.” eren slowly shook his head, making everyone laugh.

“who’s a gentleman?” you looked up.

“me.” all the guys looked at you.

~

“man, ian even mean to say me, i was tryna say i needed some more meat.” ony groaned, carrying all the shopping bags for you. connie looked at ony. “we ain’t even have no damn meat.” connie said, also carrying bags.

“can y’all not complain for like… three seconds?” mikasa squinted at the boys behind the three of you. “it’s y/n’s birthday. everyone should be happy to give her what she wants.”

“i’m goin broke.” armin muttered, slowly shaking his head.

“when ain’t you broke?” eren looked at armin. “you bein funny?” armin raised his eyebrows. eren smacked his lips. “remember what happened last time we fought.”

“that was in sixth grade.”

“okay, everything goes in connie’s car because hes dropping it off later on tonight, and then we can split up and get ready to go out.” sasha said as you and mikasa both headed towards her car.

you and mikasa closed the doors, sasha starting her car, not even thinking to wait on them. “okay so we’re going to your house to get ready.” she pointed to you. mikasa sat in the back, stretched across the seat.

“whys it always my house?”

“because your house is like… the hangout spot.” mikasa laughed a little. “oh yeah, what’re you wearing tonight?” she leaned up to look at you.

“some revealing ass outfit sasha picked out, i don’t know.” you shrugged. “it’s literally cute, okay it shows a buncha ass, and? you have plenty to show off.” sasha waved you off.

“well what color is it?” mikasa asked, scrolling on her phone. sasha thought about it for a few seconds “white.”

mikasa nodded. “so me and sasha can wear white and black and you can wear white and pink ‘cus you’re the birthday girl.” mikasa poked your cheek, making you smile. “yeah, i’ll just wear pink heels, pink accessories, and my birthday ribbon, that’s everything pink. my nails are already done, toes…” as you were naming things you glanced back to see mikasa with her hand over her heart.

“you’re growing up so fast, it makes me sad.” she poked her bottom lip out. you laughed and shook your head. “it’s nothing for real. just one more year of bein sexy.” you flipped your hair in a playful way, making sasha and mikasa laugh.

the ride wasn’t long to get to your house. considering how long you were at the mall, it was already dimming outside when you made it home. and considering how long it was gonna take you to get ready, all three of you specifically, it was gonna be late by the time you went out.

“alright, come on.” sasha turned off her car, everyone getting out and going towards your house. you unlocked the door and let them in, everyone going upstairs.

“okay, so i’m gonna go through your clothes and my clothes.” mikasa said as she got in your room. since her and sasha weren’t even guests anymore, they already had a bunch of clothes at your house. and a bunch means a bunch.

“i’m gonna take a quick shower.” sasha got towels out of your bathroom closet. “with the door open.” she finished, turning on your shower.

you grabbed your jumpsuit and looked at it. “this looks really small.”

“it’s supposed to be, most likely. gotta hug that body.” mikasa said, sitting on your closet floor and going through the bag of things she had.

“this or this?” she held up two different white dresses. you pursed your lips together and hummed. “they’ll both look good so… it really don’t matter.” you raised your eyebrows with a shrug. mikasa rolled her eyes at your answer. “i’m asking you thoughhh.” she said, looking at the dresses.

“that one then.” you said, not even looking at the dresses. “perfect, i knew i should pick this one.” mikasa hopped up.

after a few minutes of mikasa retouching her makeup, she finally walked back over towards where her clothes were, you gluing your lashes back the way they were.

“yall done?” sasha yelled from the shower, cutting it off.

“girl we barely started.” you mumbled, taking off your dress and walking to your night stand to find your favorite perfume. “you’re literally naked.” sasha mumbled, putting a towel over herself. “i have a bra and panties on sasha, you’re naked.” you said, tossing your perfume on the bed and grabbing the jump suit.

“what if i wear a thong with this?” you held it up for a few seconds before sticking your legs through it and pulling it up.

mikasa put on her dress and looked in your body mirror. “lucky for whoever you lay tonight.” she said. you went in the bathroom where sasha was putting her body suit on, looking in the mirror.

“i hope nobody.” you said, turning around in the mirror. “this is cuteeee.” you smiled before sitting your leg on top of the toilet, tying the strings on the back.

sasha helped with the string on your back and nodded. “really cute.” she said, zipping up the front of her outfit, walking to your room to find her black heels.

“i have to curl my hair, hold up.” sasha said.

you and mikasa groaned. “were gonna be forever.” mikasa mumbled.

and yeah, you were forever. but the drive was only about five minutes from your house. everyone sprayed on more perfume before getting out of the car. “this things gonna give me a wedgie.” you mumbled, making sasha and mikasa chuckle. “you’ll be fine.” mikasa said, showing all three of your IDs and walking in the club.

you smiled as the atmosphere filled your eyes and ears.

“it’s my best friends birthday, you see this?” sasha said to a random guy, pointing at your pink ribbon.

mikasa led you and her through the crowd, finding the spot everyone would normally be. to your surprise, it was empty, only eren and armin rolling up blunts. “damn where everybody at?” mikasa frowned.

“ony talkin to some girl and connie prolly doin the same.” eren said, dabbing the blunt with his tongue while looking at mikasa. “i said where.” mikasa furrowed her eyebrows.

“armin, talk to her ‘cus if i do…” eren shook his head.

“they went over there last time i saw.” armin pointed to a direction, you looking that way. “i’ll find em.” sasha said, walking towards where armin was pointing. “i’m finna get a drink, i’ll be back.” you turned to walk towards the bar, standing instead of sitting in a stool like you’d normally do.

“can i get two shots?” you crossed your arms on the counter. “straight up?” the bartender laughed a little. “what shot?”

“your choice.” you mumbled.

“birthday girl.” you heard someone say from beside you. you glanced over, double taking as you saw connie. “connie, sasha’s lookin for you.” you smiled a little as your shots were brought to you.

connie grabbed one and drunk it, putting the cup down. you smacked your lips and squinted. “i was gon drink that, thank you.” you softly moved him away from you to take the second one.

“ion care. you look good tonight.” connie mumbled, scanning your body before looking away and drinkin from his cup. you looked at him and tilted your head. “really?”

“what i gotta lie for?”

you looked at him for a few seconds before scoffing and calling the bartender back over. “can i have four more? two for each.” you then looked at connie.

“sure. who’s paying?” the bartender leaned on the counter.

connie stared into your eyes for some seconds, his eyes flickering to your lips, just for a second as he reached in his pocket, pulling out some bills and passing them to the bartender.

you gave him a small smile.

“that’s one out of the three of yo presents, ight?” he rested his eyes on you. you raised your eyebrows. “what’s the other two?”

“still thinking.” he pursed his lips together and looked at the counter. “where ya boyfriend at?”

you frowned a little. “reiner?”

connie nodded, looking at the shots as the bartender sat them in front of you.

as you went to grab one, it tipped over on your hand. you groaned. “look what you made me do.” you muttered as you both grabbed a shot, taking them at the same time.

connie grabbed the last one, sipping half of it and then passing it to you. “i don’t drink after randoms.” you said, looking him up and down.

connie lazily blinked, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head back. “open yo mouth.”

as you mindlessly did as he said, he poured the rest of the shot in your mouth. “answer my question.” he put the glass back down as you swallowed. you rolled your eyes. “if your question made me waste my shot, what you think the answer is?” you narrowed your eyes.

“oh y’all ain’t together no more?”

“you know that. i told you that.”

“oh.” connie bit his lip and looked towards the crowd.

you didn’t know it, well, you felt it, you were starting to get drunk. and he was too, you could tell because that’s how he looked when he was high.

you didn’t even know you were staring, once again.

you also didn’t realize you hadn’t wiped that shot off your hand. you waved your hand, and grabbed a napkin, wiping everywhere it dripped.

when you were finished, connie grabbed your hand, looking at your nails. “cute.” he mumbled, rubbing your pink nails with his thumb.

you snatched your hand away with a soft laugh.

connie slightly frowned, grabbing your hand again.

you moved it away again, connie frowned even harder, grabbing your hand and forearm, looking at your wrist.

“the fuck?”

chap.6