#this is something that would actually happen I feel

[quarterlifekitty]

Promethean

fuckboy!Soap x Shy!Reader x Ghost (college!au) p.2

Uhh warning soap isn’t in this chapter and reader isn’t acting very shy rn lol

Simon managed to drag you, shocked and still on shaky legs, into his surprisingly clean car and across town to a little cafe. The guy with eye bags behind the counter starts making his order as soon as he comes in the door— must be a regular.

At the counter he points to a couple of items in the display case, before prompting you— you stutter out your go-to, and Simon whips out a beat-up debit card before you can think to pull out your wallet.

The largest size of earl grey almost looks normal in his large hand, a plate of pastries in his other mitt. You grab your own drink and follow where he tilts his head in gesture.

When you sit, he pushes the plate towards you. Like he’s dropping a fresh kill at your doorstep—a courting gift. Eat. Be provided for, sensitive doe. You pick up a danish, if only to ease the clench of his fist on the table. He pulls the black surgical mask down to sip his tea in a way that’s almost hilariously delicate given his permanent scowl.

You couldn’t have sat in silence for more than 10 minutes. But it feels like a lot longer.

“Simon. What are we doing here?” You probe quietly. Saying his name when you’ve never actually been introduced to each other feels wrong. Like you’ve stolen a piece of him that he hasn’t given freely.

“He never takes you out,” he grunts. As if that explains anything.

“It’s not… what we have isn’t like that.”

——

Simon chews on your overly diplomatic response for a minute. That’s what it must be, chewing— why else would he grind his teeth together when his tongue is still wet with his favorite soothing beverage?

You’re kind. Kinder than the mutt deserves.

“But you want it to be.” He says it with an almost biblical level of finality. Your pastry making the plate clink against the table as you drop it back down.

“What would you know about what I want?”

“You’re an easy read. S’how y’got yourself in this situation. Soap’s not exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to chattin’ up birds, you’re jus’ an open book.”

Simon shamelessly stares at your lips as they quirk in anger— so unused to vitriol. It’s gorgeous.

“So he’s using me. I know. Is that what this was about? Taking me on a pity date to let me down gently? Or did you just wanna see if you could have a go as well?”

Seeing you like this. It’s something else. He’s seen you mope around so many times, silently begging for crumbs that will never be tossed your way. It’s even harder to pull his gaze from you, now that you’re hissing. He wants to dig his teeth into your heart shoulder and rip out the bruise Johnny left you with.

Soap is his best friend.

“He’s a dickhead. You don’t need him. You’ll find something better.”

Simon has never been what he would call “something better”. Not in any sense. But this might be the first time he’s wanted to be.

“I won’t,” you say with the lower half of your face hidden by the sipping of your drink. As if it’s quenched your fire, and all that leaves you is vapor. “I’m not… the type.”

He gets it. Really, he does. He’s not the type either— or so he’s thought. You’re making him wonder if he’s imagined that about himself— the same way you’ve clearly imagined it about yourself.

“What’s the rest of your day look like?”

“…Nothing set in stone.” The not that it’s any of your fucking business goes unspoken, but is plain to see in the air between you.

“Lemme take you around. On a date. Be mine for today. If y’hate it, I’ll drop you back at yours and the next time you come round, I’ll mind my business and keep the door closed.” Well, that’s the most you’ve ever heard him say in one go. And it begs a question.

“What happens if I like it? You’ll fuck me in a different room of the same frat house?” Your unimpressed look makes him feel ravenous. She-wolf is threatening to turn her eyes from the display. Rejection. Not an option. “Or maybe you’ll ask me to go steady,” you huff under your breath like it’s a bad joke.

“If y’like it, then you’ll stay mine, and y’won’t fuckin’ want for anything. You’re supposed to be worshipped, not begging for scraps at a mutt’s door.”

He really didn’t mean to say it like that. He meant to bite his tongue. He’s trying not to think of how hot it would be if his intensity scared you into pissing yourself. He’s trying not to let himself show through the lines. It’s not working. Any of it.

The venomous bile that spills from behind his teeth reminds him that his eloquence is just one of many reasons why he’s single. Why he should be muzzled instead of kept. He doesn’t know why he’s taking it upon himself to do this. Selfishness, maybe. There’s plenty of better men he could’ve put up to the task, easy. The man who wants to feel blood on the back of his throat makes a terrible savior.

He feels like he can see your pupils dilate. You pick up your danish again and take a bite. You hold it out for him to try. It’s a test. You don’t think someone with eyes like his can handle doing cutesy, saccharine things. Like what couples do. That must be it.

He tries not to think of his teeth going past the flakey flesh of the pastry and sinking into your fingers. When his tongue meets the butter between the layers, he tries not to think of the salt sweet flavor of your sweat and tears. A seed from the blackberry jam gets thoughtlessly crushed between his molars— he hopes the bitterness will suddenly wake him up and he won’t be a beast crying for love at the heart of the world anymore.

It doesn’t.

[hcneymooners]

⋆ rose moon.

mafia leader!sevika x younger!female!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you've always loved sevika, despite the tension between her and your father and their shaky alliance. it was only a matter of time before she loved you back. 

cw: sevi is in the mafia baby!!, age difference, dysfunctional family, older woman/younger woman, power dynamics, slight power imbalance, love confessions, not actually unrequited love, misunderstandings, explicit sexual content, masturbation, exhibitionism, strapping, sex toys, dom/sub undertones, top!sevika, praise kink, degradation kink, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, obsession, you get bratty and sevi isn't having it, protective sevika, oral fixation (implied), forbidden love, resolved sexual tension, seduction (you try lmao), non-sexual intimacy, bathing/washing, face-sitting, you've loved sevi since you were 17 but nothing happens till you're 20, and she doesn't even like you like that till you turn 19, mutual pining, sevi has better control though. notes: i love her so much. it's eating me alive. let me know if you want a pt. ii or if you have a request. love you.

since you were a young girl, you’d known there would be only one love of your life. it didn’t matter how many times you were destined to date or marry; there would be one person who would capture you, body and soul. you had resigned yourself to a life laced with symptoms of unhappiness if you were barred from being with them.

then you met sevika.

you had peeked around your mother’s hips—fourteen and praying for a growth spurt—your curious eyes drinking in the stark lines of your father’s office. sevika had been a brooding figure on the edge of his desk—a storm contained in a silk suit, her gaze weighty, her hands scarred and capable.

she was the most singularly beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you still believed that.

it was a clarifying moment in twofold: on one hand, you understood your family’s accusations of weakness had lost their sting the moment you saw light thread across the silvery skin of her scars. on the other, you realized you were underestimated. you would have sacrificed every ounce of your bloodline, sown salt into the earth of your familial legacy, if it meant you could be beholden to her for eternity.

anyone surprised by the revelation that you loved sevika simply hadn’t been paying attention. it felt as though, since you’d first learned to breathe, you’d been enamored with her.

when you were young, your family found it endearing—your wide-eyed infatuation with one of the most feared women in the city. you trailed after her, quiet but relentless, and she had been patient.

she let you cling to her hand when you were frightened, let you curl into her space when you sought attention. she was firm but fond, tolerant of your tantrums and the transgressions of a spoiled girl who had always been given too much and still wanted more.

despite the risks, sevika had allowed herself to possess a favorite. you used to cry alligator tears when she left for long periods—because you were seventeen and didn’t yet understand it.

once, she gripped your jaw when you’d earned it, twenty and fresh-mouthed, her calloused fingers pressing gently into the soft skin. you couldn’t name the feeling it stirred—something dangerous and deep as she stared you down—but it stayed with you. that moment clarified your vocation.

and so you began to push.

you fought for her—through her—tearing past every shield she raised: her doubts about the gap in your ages, her cruel certainty that you could never endure the life she’d lived, the life your parents kept hidden from you, or the world she was still shaping with her iron grip.

criminal, she’d spat once, the word acid on her tongue, as though it was a slur she couldn’t wash away. but you had only looked at her, calm and unwavering, and reminded her who your father was.

you knew the spores of your affection had spread, had infested her. her eyes would catch on the press of your breasts, how they strained against gowns you tailored to be unforgiving in their intent. she always lit a cigar to occupy her mouth when an admirer stole your attention, restraining herself from speaking out of turn.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” she told you once, back when you were still a simpering ingénue.

“i have always been sure of what i want,” you replied, unflinching. she had only chuckled, thumb grazing your chin before leaving you to your slow breath and trembling mouth.

your family would never forgive you for this—choosing her over them. their anger would hang in the air, an unspoken threat, and you would spend your life waiting for the moment someone came to drag you back, to force you into the inheritance you had defiled. they would call sevika a thief, accuse her of stealing you in the dead of night, as if your love for her were something to be taken rather than earned. but you were ready for this. willing to endure it all.

now, as you stepped from your bedroom, you thought of how tonight could not go wrong. it was her birthday, and this would be your greatest declaration of love.

the party would be a lavish celebration of her impressive journey.

you raised a hand to your cheeks, pressing down on the tight skin. the ache was familiar—a result of the constant, relentless smiling as you readied yourself for her arrival all night. you wondered if there would be bruises later, if the skin would turn mottled and rotten. you didn’t care. everything you did was a labor of love.

you felt her enter the house, the air around you seeming to breathe easier.

“[name]?” your mother called, her voice curling up the staircase.

“coming,” you answered, your body trembling with barely contained excitement.

♕𓃮

the party was gilded, extravagant.

you had planned it with trembling hands, pouring over every detail until the edges of your vision blurred and a headache surged, each choice made with the silent hope that sevika might experience happiness, if only for a moment. you had begged your parents for this, wrapped in promises of alliances and strengthened ties, though your intentions had always been singular.

you wore gold for her—another dress clinging to you like a second skin, the fabric shimmering like starlight. a soft veil draped over your hair, your neck adorned with delicate jewelry you’d once been too shy to wear. compliments whispered as you passed—some sincere, others crude—but all of them mingled in the haze of champagne and the soft hum of music. you could barely hear them, your pulse frantic as you searched for sevika within the crowd.

carefully, you began to climb the stairs, seeking a better vantage point.

“there you are, little bird.”

the words made you shiver, then preen. sevika’s voice swallowed you—low, rough, like smoke and gravel. you didn’t need to turn to know she was right behind you, her silhouette tall and imposing, haloed by the faint glow of the party below.

you turned, and your chest practically opened, eager to display your heart—weak, wanting. your mouth parted to offer birthday wishes, but a laugh sounded, sharp and cutting.

“look at her. she might as well have ‘kneel’ written across her forehead.”

“pathetic.”

you smiled through it, cheeks burning, despite your body threatening to collapse in on itself in embarrassment. sevika cast a sharp look that exacted a heavy silence, her mouth twitching with displeasure. without another word, the partygoers dispersed, and you touched your waist briefly to stabilize your body as it swayed in relief. she looked back at you, brow furrowed, studying your face.

pathetic.

that’s what they had called you.

“sweet girl.”

you tried to speak again, but only managed, “one moment. i need to check on the food.”

you weren’t sure where you were headed, but it wasn’t the kitchens. eventually, you found yourself upstairs in the darkened hallway of the east wing, hands braced against the edge of a credenza.

the music drifted faintly below, strings lilting up the staircase like spiteful ghosts. you bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to swallow the knot in your throat.

“[name].”

as if struck, your body convulsed with shame as you realized sevika had followed you, only to find you like this. you must have looked so naïve, so stupid.

“sevika. i’m—i’m so sorry,” you whispered, not trusting yourself to meet her eyes. “i shouldn’t have left. the cake will be out soon. i just needed a moment.”

her boots crossed the wooden floors, deliberate and steady, until you felt her presence behind you. sevika—imposing and unshakable, as though the weight of the world couldn’t move her. and here you were, twenty years her junior, trembling beneath her gaze like a leaf caught in the breeze.

“turn around.”

you obeyed, as you always did, though your gaze stayed fixed on her chest. she was so close now, the scent of leather and something faintly metallic lingering on her. when you finally dared to glance up, you found her studying you—those dark eyes sharp, too knowing, as if she could see every jagged thought in your head.

“has it been like this all night?”

“sevika,” you said, and it was answer enough.

“that’s not what you usually call me,” she remarked, a slight curve to her mouth.

you flushed and tugged at your sleeves.

“i—well. i don’t think you need more reasons to view me as juvenile.”

sevika rolled her eyes, unimpressed at your jab.

“i don’t view you as juvenile, princess. i’m well aware you’re a woman.” she cast a long look over you after that, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip as her gaze followed the pendant dipping into the rising swell of your breasts. “i don’t misunderstand that.”

“besides,” sevika continued. “i like it.”

you never could argue against pleasing her.

“well, it is your birthday,” you sighed, and she smiled.

“thank you, sweet girl.” she tilted her head. “you’re so good to me.”

you turned away again, pressing your fingers to your cheeks as if to send your blood flowing away with urgency.

“it’s alright if you’re upset. they were cruel to you,” she said.

you laughed softly, the sound hollow, and spun to face her. “they’re right, though, aren’t they? i’m… a silly, pathetic little thing. i thought—” you broke off, embarrassed. “it doesn’t matter.”

“tell me.”

your fingers curled around the edge of the credenza, the words clawing their way up your throat. “i thought maybe… if you saw what i thought of you—what i did for you—”

the words hung heavy, the silence stretching between you like a knife’s edge.

“what did you do?” sevika asked quietly, her voice unreadable. “show me.”

you hesitated, shame prickling beneath your skin.

“it was supposed to be your grand gift,” you said finally. “for tonight.”

“show me,” she repeated.

your heart stumbled, but you nodded, slipping past her and further down the hall. sevika followed, her footsteps a steady beat behind you as you led her to the study. your hands trembled as you unlocked the desk drawer and pulled out the deed.

“i bought it back,” you said softly, holding it out to her. “your family’s ranch. the one you lost when you were a child.”

sevika didn’t take it at first. she just stared at you, her expression unreadable, until you dropped your gaze.

“i know it’s foolish,” you murmured, the words rushing out in a whisper. “but you must know by now that i’ve loved you for my entire life. the world is somewhat right—i am a melancholic creature driven by my whims. a spoiled brat at times, but i could—” your voice caught. “i could be better. i just… i thought maybe if you saw what i thought of you, you’d…”

“decide to love you back?” sevika finished for you, her tone firm but not unkind.

you nodded, eyes stinging. this was horrible. how did people confess their feelings? it was like staring down the barrel of a gun. she still wasn’t speaking, and your ears were beginning to ring. the shot had sounded.

instead, she reached out, calloused fingers tipping your chin up until you were forced to meet her gaze. her expression had softened, though something dangerous lingered, coiled and waiting.

“princess,” she began, and you lifted yourself from her hold.

“it’s alright,” you said, voice weak. “i had to try one final time. we [last name(s)] were never good at admitting defeat.”

“[name].”

it almost sounded like pleading. you put distance between the two of you and hid your shaking fingers in the folds of your dress. the door loomed behind her, and you sidestepped her thick body, desperate to escape.

“it’s fine. i need to prepare your cake. i’ll see you in the ballroom.”

you turned back.

“oh, and happy birthday, sevi.”

♕𓃮

shame pressed hot against your chest.

the bath water was scalding, the steam curling thickly in the air, but it couldn’t quite reach the knot tightening in your throat. you pressed your cheek to your knees, the weight of the evening finally catching up to you. you let yourself drift, welcoming the disassociation. turns out you couldn’t do anything right—not even shield yourself from sevika’s quiet entrance into your bathroom.

she leaned against the counter, her presence steady, and cleared her throat. it took you several moments to notice her, and when you did, you let out an undignified shriek. without thinking, you sat up, instinctively covering yourself. with another shriek, you scrambled for a towel as she calmly turned, propping open the window next to the sink, releasing a thick ring of cigar smoke. she stepped forward, plucking the towel from your hands and pushing you—tenderly—back into the water.

“what the fuck, sevi?”

she laughed, a low, rich sound.

“there you are. i hated that simpering nonsense you were doing earlier.”

“you mean when i confessed my undying love for you, and you told me you didn’t feel the same?”

“no,” she answered, her voice a dark purr. “i mean when you told me you loved me, and then ran like a coward.”

you huffed, turning away, the shame settling deeper.

sevika sat beside you, her metal hand tugging gently at your hair. the other, still cradling her cigar, absently traced the line of your collarbone. she didn’t speak, but you leaned into her, seeking the comfort she offered without words. her scent, a blend of blackberry and whiskey, mingled with the rose-scented bath soap. the only sound was the soft lap of water against the sides of the tub.

still, the quiet was suffocating. you couldn’t suppress the gnawing self-deprecation that had been simmering for months. it rose like a flood, impossible to contain. the weight of it pressed against your chest, the last remnants of your resolve crumbling. when sevika put out her cigar, you took that as your cue.

“i resigned myself to a life of displeasure,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

sevika didn’t respond at first. she simply pulled you closer, her fingers tightening just enough to ground you. her lips brushed against the crown of your head, but you could feel the tension building in her body, the way she braced for what was coming. she knew something was about to break.

“i prepared myself to lose you in some way,” you said, the words tasting bitter. “there would be nothing after you. i’d marry as a fail-safe, in case the business needed an alliance. and if things got bad, maybe i’d just—”

the words hung in the air, brittle and sharp in their conjuring, before being shattered by sevika’s breath—a ragged, shuddering inhale. you felt the muscles in her arm tighten, as if she were holding herself together by a thread. when she spoke, her voice was low, raw, and dangerous.

“don’t,” she commanded, her words thick with fury, “ever say that to me again.”

you stared at her, startled by the force of her reaction, and found her face tight, her eyes blazing with something primal. she was holding herself together by the thinnest thread, and you realized that the thought of losing you, of you slipping away, was a wound deeper than anything physical.

her hand came to your face, gripping your jaw with careful strength. sevika’s eyes searched yours, the intensity of her gaze making your chest ache.

“do you think i’d be so cruel?” her voice cracked, as if it pained her just to ask. “that i would let you slip away into nothing?”

the rawness of her voice trembled through you. she wasn’t angry—not really.

“i would burn this whole fucking world down before i let you die, do you hear me?” sevika’s words came out in a low rasp. “i will always find a way to save you. i will protect you, no matter what it costs. even if you hate me for it. you are mine, and i will never let you go.”

you felt her hands tremble as they slid down your arms, as if memorizing every inch of you, ensuring you were still here. still breathing.

“you are so—”

her gaze hardened.

“i asked them,” she said, her voice steady now. “tonight. wanted to do it properly.”

“asked who?”

“your parents. i petitioned them for your hand.”

the words hit like a punch to the gut, and you recoiled, your mind scrambling. “and they said no?”

“mmm.” she nodded.

you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. you pushed back, away from her, but she caught your wrist, holding you steady. your thoughts threatened to fracture.

“listen to me,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “that was a formality. it’s not their permission i need. it’s yours.”

you blinked up at her, your breath caught in your throat. “what are you saying?”

she stepped closer, her voice a low murmur.

“i’m saying you’re not a fool, sweet girl. you were brave tonight, and i’d like you to be mine, if you’ll still have me.”

“of course i still want you. are you dense?” you smiled, a shaky, indulgent smile, before your voice faltered. “but—what about—”

“forget them,” sevika interrupted, her tone sharp now, edged with steel. “i’ll take care of it. i’ll always take care of you.”

her words struck a pulse through you—not because you doubted her, but because you knew she meant them. sevika didn’t make empty threats.

you stared at her, your pulse quickening. “you mean—”

“we’ll go tonight.”

you gaped at her, but she only watched you with a fierce intensity that left no room for doubt. this was real.

“you’d take me with you?” you whispered.

her lips curled faintly, a ghost of a smile.

“of course, i would.”

your hands trembled as you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “yes.”

sevika’s hand found yours, steady and warm, pulling you closer.

“say it again.”

“yes,” you whispered.

her smile widened, dark and triumphant, as she leaned in, her voice a low rumble against your ear.

“good girl.”

and with that, your heart cracked open, and you lunged for her.

♕𓃮

if you desired her less, perhaps you would’ve been more coquettish, more in control. but nothing could have stopped your hunger.

still, as always, sevika steadied you. without any effort she caught the full weight of your body as you climbed into her arms, your hands like steel around her face. you bit at her mouth until she let you in, mewling as she pulled you into her lap. you shivered naked and wet, her large hands coming to cup your ass firmly as you plundered her mouth.

“steady, princess,” she murmured, pulling back to cup the nape of your neck. “i want this just as much. no need to work for it. i’ll give you want you need.”

“sevi,” you whimpered. “sevi, please.”

“mmm, i know.” sevika dipped her head down, sucking a dark mark into your neck. “i need you to do something for me first though.”

“anything.”

and she knew you meant it.

satisfied, sevika rose and walked you into your room. placing you gently on the bed, she used a hand to force your legs open. for a moment, she stood and watched your pussy glaze with arousal. she then leaned forward, sliding two fingers lightly through your cunt.

“so easy f’me.”

“sevi.”

sevika ducked down, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before pulling away, her movements fluid as she made her way to the desk. in a series of precise motions, she positioned herself in front of the bed, settling into a wide, deliberate manspread. idly, she slipped off her shirt so that her tits were exposed, large and enticing. your mouth watered, and you felt a new wave of slick leave you.

“you just have to do this one thing, and then i’ll do whatever you want. does that sound good, princess?”

you nodded, desperate to obey her and earn your keep.

“good girl. now, i want to watch you get off.”

you froze.

“wh—what?”

“i want you to touch yourself,” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “you weren’t this shy when you were, what was it, nineteen? yeah. you told me in great detail how you thought of me when you fucked yourself, how you had to shove a pillow over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming.”

“i was—that was a moment of unsound judgement!”

“yeah. i thought about it every moment after.”

that shut you up.

“so, i want you to show me.”

her voice let you know that it wasn’t an option.

“okay,” you whispered.

you began to shallowly pump a finger inside of your cunt, eyes fluttering as you searched for that spongy dip in your walls that sends your head spinning. your thighs reigned open and sweaty; your cunt was spread wide and so pink. the lips were swollen, and you felt yourself leaking further under sevika’s relentless gaze.

“slower,” she instructed.

it took quite some effort for you to slow down your ministrations, but you needed to be good. you let out a hiccup of pleasure as your knuckles clipped your clit, rosy and full. a throaty moan burst from you as sevika shifted, bringing her head forward to maintain eye contact. your fingers picked up the pace, and your eyes grew heavy as you felt your pleasure begin to crest.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. fuck, sevi. right there, please.”

you realized sevika was still mostly clothed, certainly more than you were, and that deepened the heat in your stomach. you whimpered pathetically as you pressed harder into yourself, adding two more fingers and riding them to abandon. you slumped further into the mattress, rubbing viciously at your clit to add more stimulation.

“please. please. please. please.” this was your form of prayer. “fuuuuck!”

your head snapped back as you led yourself to your first orgasm, a wail rising from somewhere deep in your chest.

“sevika.”

she loomed over you, settling her hands on your hip. her eyes were practically two pools of black, her irises swallowed by her dilated pupils. you reached a hand up to graze along the underside of her bob, and she caught your wrist, kissing right against the fine bones resting underneath your skin.

you softened and made a small noise of contentment. she looked back you.

“turn over.”

you abided.

♕𓃮

despite how much you’d imagined it, nothing to compared to the real feel of sevika fucking you.

you were surprised that she’d chosen penetration first and said as much, but she’d only smirked at you from where she was adjusting her holster.

“don’t worry. i plan to make you finish on my face.”

you couldn’t find it in you to be upset.

now, she had you back in her lap and riding her. your back was slick against her chest, her nipples hard and rigid against your spine. she pulled your hair, drawing your head back and biting down into your throat.

“holy shit,” you moaned.

“i know, sweet girl. no one’s ever given you what you needed before, hmm? doesn’t it feel good?”

“yeah,” you agreed, high and breathy, and she laughed.

you loved it when she laughed.

desperate to cum for the second time, you placed a hand on her thigh and slammed yourself down. lazily, sevika sucked your earlobe into your mouth and drew circles around your clit.

“look at that, princess. you’re leaving a little ring around me. jesus,” she sighed, as if put out, “you’re such a fucking whore.”

you moaned loudly, and she drew away from your clit and began to play with one of your tits instead.

“you know i’m right. that’s why you just tightened around me. you’re nothing but a cock-hungry slut who wants to be filled.”

“by you,” you gasped out.

“yes,” sevika said. with a cry, you were pulled off of the dildo and rearranged beneath her. “by me.”

as if to further prove the point, she brought your legs together and pushed them back until she could mount you.

“fuck, baby. you feel like a dream.”

you clenched. you wanted this to be good for her.

“shit,” she groaned and sped up her thrusts, her hips slapping against your ass.

“sevi, please. please give it to me. i’ve been so good.”

sevika nodded sympathetically, pulling your legs apart so she could put them over her shoulder.

“i know you have.”

you weren’t even hearing her at this point, just bearing down so that you could feel her in your throat. your nails dug into her back, and she hissed at the pain. the ache only pushed her, increasing the force of her thrust until her tits were bouncing with the effort.

“c’mon, princess. are you gonna finish for me? i want you to cum on my cock. paint it for me.” her eyes narrowed, honing in on her prize. “come on.”

with a wordless scream, your body arched upward, your pussy spasming as you squirted all over the bed.

“oh, fuck,” you moaned. “shiiiit, sevi. oh my god.”

“mmm,” was all she said, still intent on delivering on her promise.

your world once again turned on its axis as she picked you up, bringing you to sit on her chest. stupidly, you only stared down at her, and she couldn’t suppress a half smile.

“and i here i thought you were all work and no play,” she teased, dragging you upward until you hovered over her mouth.

“humor me, princess,” she ordered. “settle.”

we'll be happy, you thought.

she opened her mouth, tongue extended, and you fell.

© hcneymooners.

[imavagabond]

I can understand where this woman is coming from.

My mom would probably be alive now if she hadn't been denied an MRI ten years ago. Then the tumor on her spinal chord would have been smaller, and the doctors would have had more time to figure out how to treat her.

Instead she was denied, and she went without care. The next decade she spent losing feeling in her hands as spinal fluid circulation got blocked and fluid began backing up into her brainstem. When that MRI was done, she was finally taken seriously. The doctor couldn't even explain how she was still walking and talking and not a vegetable.

She had to have surgery, but didn't pull through. An artery was where it wasn't supposed to be, displaced by the cyst that had formed, and the surgeon couldn't stop the bleeding.

I remember her being denied the MRI and instead of fighting for it, my mom had shrugged and said 'I dont want this fight.'

Between their inaction, denying her care, and her just being tired of not being taken seriously, she ended up dead.

If I had the ability to sue, I would. My mom's death was preventable ten years ago.

Other than the words "you guys are next" taken immediately to a violent context, there was nothing threatening bodily harm about her statements. She was angry, frustrated, and just wanted the care that she has been paying premiums for. That's even if she actually said those words, as the statement says 'allegedly'.

She was arrested and jailed for something she might have said, not actually confirmed.

Even if she had actually said it, without what happened to the United Healthcare CEO, she probably would have just been banned from the premise. They're scared now, and are getting innocent people jailed and taken away from their families in retaliation.

Just for words. Words which in another context would have just been angry rhetoric, not threatening, and not taken to this extreme.

And they call us the snowflakes.

Freedom of speech my ass.

This woman was arrested for WORDS.

We should rally for her as much as the guy who actually shot someone. Push back.

[alllgator-blood]

'FOGGY STREETS AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS'

(part 3/3)

I'm gonna infodump about the backstory of this comic, don't feel obligated to read it because it's not cotl related it's just personal stuff, I just want to be able to write about it somewhere cause I can't really talk to anyone about it.

As always, thanks for reading this far, sorry my stuff has been such a bummer so consistently. This comic goes out to all my "christmas induced depression" homies, I left my house maybe like ~5 times all month and it was NOT pleasant hearing "IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!" on the radio when I'm so ready for it to be over. Gonna take it reaaaaal easy til the year ends, you guys take it easy too!! Got some asks I have to respond to when I'm more stable but probably no new comic pages til january

Alright uhhh so this part of the comic is pretty much taken directly from the last time I saw my great-grandma alive, a few days before christmas. She didn't remember me, but at the nursing home there was a piano, and I sat down and played some stuff because I didn't know what to say. I was really into lisa the painful rpg at the time, and I played that "I've got the joy" song that the villain sings without realizing it was an old christian campfire song. She didn't really say much or move that whole night, just kind of gave me a polite blank smile, but started singing the words when I played the notes to that song.

I kinda stopped in shock, my dad frantically asked me to keep playing, so I did. While the comic I made is way more sappy than the actual moment was, I wish I'd cherished the moment longer. I didn't know it was the last time I'd see her alive. Every family christmas was held at her house when she was around, so it's been weird the past few years. I actually lost another dementia-addled grandma to cancer on christmas eve in 2009, so the holiday was already kind of weird for me on top of everything else that makes me sad this time of year. That's what part 2 was about, I'll spare the details but I wrote leshy to act out how I felt back then. Why are we all sad? This is supposed to be a happy time, all the decorations are up and we're almost all here, so why is everyone smiling yet everything feels so wrong? I feel like since leshy's canonically the most ignorant one to things lurking below the surface, he'd be the one to try and make everyone feel better but not quite understand why everyone is so miserable. My first memory of having self injurious behavior came from then, hence why I had leshy pull his leaves off in the last comic. It was confusing and frustrating and I was just old enough to comprehend something was wrong, but not old enough to understand the depth of it, it DEFINITELY didn't help that nobody helped me back then so I made leshy's siblings actually come in clutch instead of grabbing him/yelling at him.

That night with the piano was something that's stuck with me the few years she's been gone, but I felt kind of strange when I asked my dad and my sister about it and neither of them remembered it. The room we were in was completely empty so nobody else witnessed it but us three. I myself have a history of head trauma and memory loss (plus, native americans are disproportionately more likely to develop dementia... lucky us) so if I ever forgot about that moment, there'd be nobody left to remember it. Sometimes when I do comics, it's my way of going "this happened at some point, and the only evidence it ever happened was me witnessing it, so if something happens to me I want the memory to stay alive in some form."

Anyway. The autistic urge to overshare, am I right? Idk what my religious ass great-grandma would think of me drawing demonic comics about my last memory of her, she'd probably think it's funny though cause she raised my dad whose interests have always been "death metal and devil worship". I'm not sure if anyone read this far, I just hope my dumb comics can convey the things I can't say with my voice and struggle to say through text. None of this was supposed to be "feel bad for me!! Woe is me!!", it was supposed to me more like...cathartic? Healing? I almost didn't post this comic because it felt kinda weird, but seeing people connect with it made it worth it imo. Thank you

[layaispunk]

a warm escape | joel miller x reader

summary: joel comforts you when you're having a hard time back home during winter break.

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: age gap (25/35), mentions of smoking, mentions of a dysfunctional family & family conflict, fluff, pet names, mentions of reader having long hair

wc: 1.2k

note: This is a personal one, and its my first time writing in first person!!!! 🫶🏼 i hope u enjoy and let me know if u want a part two

The chilly december air bit into my cheeks, my heavy breathing coming out like smoke. My nose was red and stinging, but it wasn't like I could spend another second in that house. Not with the yelling. I had to go for a walk for the sake of my mental health. I needed air, space - anything to gather my thoughts, and I was too angry to journal.

As I turned the corner, Joel Miller, my neighbor, was sitting on his porch with a cigarette glowing faintly in hand. He noticed me before I could pretend that I hadn't seen him.

"Cold out," he said, his voice a low rumble that somehow felt warm compared to the freezing air.

I nodded, pulling my coat tighter.

"You walkin' or runnin'?" he asked, tilting his head towards my childhood house.

I blinked. "Bit of both."

I wanted to go sit next to him. I didn't want to talk about what happened, but there has always been something fatherly about him, almost as if his presence would instantly make you feel better.

I hesitated for a second, the cold biting at my hands as I stuffed them into my pockets.

Then, without saying a word, I walked up to his front porch, and sat next to him. Joel glanced at me, he wasn't surprised at all. Didn't make me feel like I was bothering him, or intruding. He just held the cigarette out in my direction without a word.

I took the cigarette from his hand, the warmth of it was comforting against my numb fingers. Raising it to my lips, I took a small puff, and handed it back to him. It's been a while since I smoked last, but I needed it.

As if reading my mind, he mumbles, "You can keep it." Joel shook his head. "You doin' alright, sweetheart?" he said, his voice low and calm.

I glanced at him then, properly, really looking at him. The soft glow of the porch highlighted the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes. His hair was ruffled, dark brown and shiny, almost making me want to run my hands through it.

He didn't say anything else, just leaned back slightly, waiting for me to take the cigarette again.

Lost in thought, I wasn't sure what I was doing here, sitting on Joel's porch. Or, even better, I wasn't sure what I was doing here, visiting my family for the holidays, when I know things would never change. The same fights, the same bitter words ... It was hard to ignore the ache in my chest.

Joel must have sensed the shift in me, the way my gaze had turned distant, like I was in a place he couldn't quite reach. He didn't push it. The quiet attention he gave me was enough.

At that moment, his presence was enough. Breaking the fog of my thoughts, he placed a hand on my thigh, the weight of it grounding me, pulling me back to the present moment.

His touch was demanding, firm - but not aggressive. He was letting me know he was there.

Joel's voice cut through the air again. "You want to come inside for a cup of coffee?" he asked, his gaze steady on me. I liked the way he looked at me. Like he was seeing me. It was the first time that evening that I felt like someone was actually hearing me, like all the noise in my head faded away.

I nodded, the idea of a warm cup of coffee sounding like exactly what I needed. "That would be nice" I replied softly, my voice coming out really small.

Joel put out his cigarette on the ground, stepping on it with a quick motion before rubbing his hands together to warm them. Then, without a word, he reached for mine, his fingers warm against the cold. He pulled me inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind us, he wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace.

The moment his arms enveloped me, my brain went quiet - like the world had stopped spinning for just a second. It felt safe. Secure. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t have to think.

He pulled away, his hands still resting on my shoulders, eyes steady. "You can stay here for as long as you’d like," his voice was soft. "You know that, right? You know Sarah wouldn’t mind. I wouldn't mind."

I smiled softly at him, and nodded. "Thank you," I whispered.

As we made our way into the living room, I found myself missing the feel of his hand around mine. It was strange, an unusual emptiness that I couldn't quite understand.

The house was quiet. Sarah was probably out with her friends. It felt strange knowing we had the house to ourselves. Most of the time, Joel and I had always hung out in group settings before, rarely meeting one-on-one like this. He had always been the protective, friendly neighbor, the kind who made sure I was alright- while keeping a respectable distance, never pushing.

When I had told everyone I was moving to London for my masters degree, Joel was the one who went out of his way to make sure I had everything I needed. He cared more than my own family had, making sure I was prepared, asking if I needed anything before I left. And even after I’d moved, he’d called me a couple of times—just to check in, to see if I needed anything from back home, or if I needed help with my apartment.

It made me feel… tingly, in a way I couldn’t explain, like someone actually cared beyond the usual pleasantries. I often wondered how he felt about me. I was young - ten years younger than him - but he never treated me like a child.

Joel made two cups of coffee, one for him, and one for me. He grabbed the mugs and started heading towards the living room. He glanced over his shoulder when he realized I hadn't moved, giving me that familiar smile. "C'mon, darlin'."

As I followed him into the room, my eyes caught sight of the guitar tucked in the corner. I wondered if he played often, or if it was just there for the rare moments when he has some time to himself. The fire crackled in the fireplace facing us, casting a warm, golden glow on the room. It was so peaceful.

Joel turned on the TV with a casual motion, then grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it around me, the warmth settling over my shoulders as I sank into the comfort of his brown leather couch. It smelled like him. I wondered if he needed this company the same way I did. Knowing he was usually by himself, ever since Sarah grew up - spending more time with her friends, leaving him by himself most evenings.

I leaned against him, quietly, as we both drank our coffees. After a few minutes, I felt his fingers gently brush through my hair. At first, I didn't notice it, or maybe it just didn't register it as anything more than a casual touch. But then, it became more intentional - his fingers slowly running through the strands, almost like he was testing the waters, unsure of how I would react.

I didn't pull away. My body was trying to communicate that I didn't want him to stop. His touch was so soothing, and before long, my eyelids started to grow heavy. My eyes fluttered closed, and before I knew it, I was resting against him, my breathing slow, as I dozed off.

[tanadrin]

I would love to hear the rant about social media doomerism and conspiracy

I’m on my phone right now but the summary version is something like:

Humans are bad at integrating information into their worldview accurately bc of various cognitive biases

Social media incentivizes us seeking out content that excites fear or anger or irritation

Social media thus causes us to form negative impressions of the world bc it mediates so much information consumption and discourse these days

This general negative affective impression is subject to high confirmation bias and ppl in general are really bad at divorcing an affective impression of a thing from their dispassionate reasoning abt a thing

(Bc one of the functions of an affective impression is to “cache” our conclusions about a topic to save time and effort later)

(In general if you are a cynic and pessimist you can fall prey to these biases w/o social media but I think social media makes more ppl susceptible to them)

People don’t want to be dupes so they seek refuge in cynicism. We treat cynicism as wise or worldly when in fact cynicism makes you a dupe and an easy mark for grifters. Cynicism and low trust foster conspiracism, paranoia, and antisocial politics

(This is why so many congenitally contrarian folks seem to flit effortlessly between the far left and far right; it’s not horseshoe theory, they’ve just cooked their brains on this stuff)

This is a world where populist anti-social politicians like Trump and the AfD thrive, bc they will lie about how everything is terrible and people will nod along, bc it explains why their social media is full of awful stories of, like, immigrants eating pets and shit

But it doesn’t just have to be insane lies only a moron could believe. It can be any impression about a fact in the world that it is difficult to personally check and which is vulnerable to being swayed by anecdote

This is how we get a word where people think crime rates are higher than they’ve ever been when in fact crime is falling

Or child predators lurk around every corner when in fact children are safer than ever

Or the American economy is in a recession when in fact it’s doing historically well by just about every available metric (now with full employment AND low inflation!)

Because in a big world even where things are in general good and getting better you can always produce infinite individual examples of shitty things and pipe those in a steady stream into people’s eyeballs, and then point to that and leverage people’s low trust attitudes and their cynicism which tells them they are smarter than the experts and go “statistics is just a fancy way to lie! The world is secretly terrible! Every bad thing is even worse than you thought and every good thing is a lie!”

(Nevermind the whole phenomenon where anything that is complicated or that someone does not themselves understand gets treated like it’s actually secret and a conspiracy.)

And here I know I have to include some disclaimer about how this is not to discount individual cases of suffering or struggle, which are real, or that there are indeed some really awful things happening in the world right now, which there are, but you know what?

I’m tired of doing that. People with reading comprehension operating in good faith ought to be able to deduce that general statements do not obviate particular exceptions, and people who cling to their doomerism as a kind of emotional life raft do not generally argue with me in good faith.

Sometimes doomerism is a load-bearing pillar of their politics, which I think is dumb—I think you can be a leftist or a progressive without being a doomer! In fact I think doomerism is antithetical to useful politics!

Sometimes they are just depressed and treatment-resistant. Sometimes they are just angry misanthropes who want to feel justified in their misanthropy. Some doomers are themselves in bad circumstances and feeling hopeless about that—to them I am enormously sympathetic. Though a lot of doomers will admit they personally are doing OK—this does not seem to be most doomers.

But I think in general cynicism and doomerism and a worldview dominated by a general nebulous air of Everything Is Awful and by abstract nouns with threatening auras is not conducive to wisdom or understanding or useful politics or leading a happy and fulfilling life.

[redtail-lol]

Yep yep yep. Except I would argue incels are sorta worse

Radical feminists come from a place of truth: being a woman, or being AFAB, in a patriarchal society inherently disadvantages you. Though there are extreme flaws in the way they view men and maleness as evil, they are correct that they are an oppressed population. Incels are largely straight cis men, and arguably largely white. The "victimization" they perceive happening to them? They aren't getting sex. Whereas radfems are reacting poorly to real oppression, incels are acting petulant and stamping their feet about how they aren't getting what they want. Their beliefs are deeply entrenched in misogyny, as they wholeheartedly believe that they are entitled to sex and that it's unfair for women to be able to say no. They view women as sex objects and those who have gone off in the deep end have expressed that they think that they should be just given a wife, regardless of what she wants, because his desire to have sex matters more than a woman's autonomy. Radfems off the deep end are also horrendous - believing wholeheartedly that all men should be killed - but again the root cause is in real oppression, and they believe this would make the world a safer place for women. And to add, radfems have absolutely no way to make a KAM plan happen. It is their hypothetical dream world. Incel ideas used to be the norm in society. Women WERE property, and in some very poor places, still are. Incel's vision for the world, they'll probably never see but it is POSSIBLE. This could happen again. It probably won't but it can.

TL;DR Radical feminist beliefs are the result of real oppression, fear, and a desire for a safer, equal world, and they misplace the blame on maleness and bioessentialism, treating patriarchy as inevitable, rather than trying to reform society and create gender equality. Incel beliefs are the result of a sense of entitlement, the objectification and dehumanization of women, horniness, and loneliness. Being oppressed is an actual problem. Not having a girlfriend or being a virgin is not. It might make you feel down but this is an extremely temporary problem, and not something society needs to fix at the expense of others. Radical feminists are terrible and incels are managing to be 30 times worse.

If you use incel to mean "man who can't get a girlfriend" or "male virgin" you can go fuck yourself. Incels are a misogynistic hate group. The issue has never been that they can't get laid.

sucks that "incel" is just like a generic insult now synonymous with "virgin" bc if people had much of an idea of what incel ideology actually entails, we could have a conversation about radical feminism being quite literally, beat for beat, incel shit for girls

[capquinn]

I think abt decorating the apartment with Quinn and then he tricks you into getting under the mistletoe with him and goes “oh you remember the rules”

blushing and kicking my feet picturing this. what a sweet thought 😭🥹

It happens when you least expect it.

One moment, you’re carefully arranging stockings along the mantle — because Quinn’s first attempt had them completely uneven and absolutely not aesthetically pleasing — and the next, he’s suddenly loitering in the doorway to the kitchen with that look on his face. The one that says he’s up to something.

“Hey, can you come here for a sec?” he calls, his tone so casual it immediately puts you on edge.

You glance over your shoulder, already suspicious. “If you’ve tangled the lights again…”

He laughs, shaking his head, hands tucked behind his back like he’s hiding something. “Nope. Lights are good. Just come here.”

You hesitate, narrowing your eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you’re up to something?”

“I’m not up to anything,” he insists, but his grin is too big, too playful to be convincing.

Against your better judgment, you leave the stockings and make your way toward him. The closer you get, the more obvious it becomes that he’s hiding something.

“Alright,” you say, stopping just shy of the doorway. “What is it?”

He tilts his head ever so slightly, feigning innocence as his gaze flicks upward.

That’s when you see it: the small sprig of mistletoe dangling right above where he’s standing.

Your jaw drops as you look back at him, and he’s already grinning, the picture of shameless mischief.

“Oh, would you look at that,” he says, glancing up toward the mistletoe like it’s just magically appeared, his voice dripping with mock surprise.

“You actually put up mistletoe,” you say, crossing your arms but stepping closer anyway.

He nods, completely unfazed. “It’s festive. Classic. Very on theme,” he says, his tone so casual it’s almost believable. Almost.

“All this just to sneak a kiss?” you tease, shaking your head, though you can’t stop the grin that creeps in.

He shrugs, the picture of feigned nonchalance, but there’s a warmth in his gaze that gives him away. As you come to a stop in front of him, his hands slide to your waist, his touch light but firm enough to pull you closer.

“You know the rules,” he murmurs, his lips quirking up in that boyish grin that always gets to you.

You roll your eyes but don’t pull away, letting his thumbs brush against your sides as his nose dips, brushing against yours.

“Feels a little desperate, Quinn,” you tease softly, your hands slipping up to rest on his chest. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he murmurs, dipping his head slightly to press a quick kiss to your hair. His breath is warm, the soft affection in the gesture making your stomach flip in that familiar way only he can manage.

“Very smooth,” you say, tipping your head back to meet his gaze, eyes sparkling. “Did you rehearse this?”

He hums thoughtfully, his forehead dropping to rest lightly against yours. “You think I need to rehearse to get a kiss from you?”

“Maybe,” you tease back, your lips twitching. “Depends on how much you want it.”

His laugh is quiet, his nose brushing against yours again before his lips find your cheek. “More than you’d think,” he says softly, his voice dropping just enough to send a warmth blooming in your chest.

You lean into him now, your hands curling into the fabric of his sweater. “So what now, Hughes? Are we just gonna stand here, or are you gonna—”

Before you can finish, his lips are on yours, soft and deliberate, stealing the rest of your words in a kiss that’s as playful as it is tender. His hands tighten at your waist, pulling you closer with a quiet ease, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your side. The kiss deepens naturally, unhurried and warm, his nose brushing against yours in a way that feels achingly intimate. There’s no rush, just the quiet certainty of his touch, his lips lingering on yours like he’s savouring the moment, like he doesn’t want it to end. When he finally pulls back, his breath mingles with yours, and the faintest smile curves his lips — soft, teasing, a little smug.

“Still think it’s desperate?” he murmurs, his voice low, warm, and entirely too pleased with himself.

“Maybe,” you reply, breathless but grinning, rising onto your toes. You press a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips, just enough to leave him leaning in for more. “But it’s working for you.”

[phantomrose96]

I'm actually deeply obsessed with the tiny little anecdote Hayward tells about the god Henge and it makes me insane again every time I remember it.

You know the best god I ever met - they called him Henge. He haunted a village up north. He didn’t ask much of you. He liked keepsakes. Things that were no longer useful. Maybe you had a ring you didn’t want to wear any more because it hurt too much. Or you had a key that you weren’t going to use for a very long time, but you wanted to be able to find it again when you did. Or maybe your kid would be born with their eyes and throat shut tight and you didn’t know how to move on. You’d wrap your keepsake in green cotton, and you’d bury under a pile of pebbles in a place only you knew. And you’d make the prayer-marks so that Henge would know just what was being offered. And then one day, years later, when you were ready to pick up whatever you’d left behind but perhaps you didn’t even know it yet yourself, you’d turn and look outside your window, and the ring would be hanging from a tree-branch outside. The key would be resting on your sill. There’d be a newborn child, wrapped in green cotton, resting upon your doorstep. I never understood what Henge wanted with that stuff, but I understood the appeal of going through it. How nice it was to feel that someone had stopped to pick up the things you needed to drop.

The image about the stillborn child just stops me cold like. A child you loved and wanted and is born dead and you can't just part with, can't just accept it, can't find the way to put the work into the funeral and have them gone, forever, to nothing.

That you could put the child down and Henge will just... pick them up. Not save them. Not change what happened. Just give you time to step away. To not need to say "goodbye" to the child yet. To not have to deal, just yet. Just that one day, in the future, when you're ready, whenever that may be, the child would be back on your step for you to bury...

Hayward plays down the ring in his example of just hurting too much but, he plays down the kid too. Is that ring of your dead spouse? A dead family member? What kind of key do you need out of your possession until you're ready - or, Hayward, is this honestly just a strategy to keep something where you yourself can't lose it...? Can it be that simple?

I'm insane about Henge. I'm insane about putting a thing down temporarily, and having a god which will hold it while you can't.

[ellecdc]

Matched

Finnick Odair x fem!victor!reader who are constantly introduced to each other [1.2k words]

CW: people trying to introduce Finnick and reader, Capitol behaviours (body modification, eating-purging-eating, no sense of propriety), fluff, a surprise

You’d come to expect a lot of things to happen when attending a party in the Capitol.

There would be people dressed to varying levels of near insanity. There would be people literally eating until they were sick, then forcing themselves to be sick so that they could continue eating. There would be people approaching you, asking you questions, and running their hands over your clothes or hair or jewelry or body as though having seen the most traumatic moments of your life aired on TV from the safety of their homes made you friends.

And there would always be people trying to introduce you to or set you up with their favourite victor; the Capitol’s darling.

“There you are, darling!” A rather reptilian looking woman you knew to go by Komoda greeted you as she approached; arm aggressively interlocked with another’s who didn’t appear to be all that willing to be there. “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

You plastered on your show time smile and offered your hand to Capitol Darling Finnick Odair who accepted it readily, bowing his head slightly as he met your gaze.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“It always is in the Capitol.” You volleyed, smiling back over to the Capitol citizen who seemed very excited to be seeing two of her favourite victors intermingling. “Finnick and I have met a few times, actually.”

Komoda seemed rather bemused at the fact that the two of you had met and not immediately jumped each other's bones. “Oh… oh! Really?”

You hummed in the affirmative.

“Every year when we mentor new tributes.” Finnick explained.

Komoda tried to laugh. “Well, I just think that the two of you would get on rather well.”

“We get on fine.” You continued, feigning ignorance.

“The two of you would make a very handsome couple!” One of her friend’s chimed in, earning him nods of approval from the quickly forming group of spectators.

“Well, looks aren’t everything, are they?” You tried, and a few of the more…altered individuals seemed rather perplexed at the thought. “The two of us might not have anything in common.”

“That’s very true.” Finnick agreed. “Let’s see; how do you feel about the beach?”

“Too much sand; I’m shaking it out of everything I own for far too long afterwards. What’s your favourite pastime?”

“Swimming.” He answered.

“I never learned how.” You continued with pursed lips. “Least favourite season?”

“Winter. What’s your favourite holiday?”

“Christmas.”

Finnick hummed in displeasure before continuing. “Favourite animal?”

“Cats. Yours?”

“Dogs.”

You hummed in displeasure. “How do you feel about white chocolate?”

“Love it.” He replied easily; you scrunched your nose at him before he carried on. “What’s a dealbreaker for you?”

“People who like white chocolate.”

He pressed his lips into a flat line and nodded his head in understanding. “Very fair.”

You looked back over at Komoda and her friends to see them all gaping at the two of you.

“Sorry to disappoint, folks.” Finnick apologized with a shrug of his shoulder. “It’s apparently just not meant to be.”

“But…” Komoda started, looking rather crestfallen. “I…I was so sure!”

“You’re not the first to try to set us up.” You placated, placing a gentle hand over the scale-like jewels on the shoulder of her gown. “You probably won’t be the last, either.”

“Maybe the 29th time will be the charm, hm?” Finnick offered you with a wink, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t hold your breath, Odair.”

“I can hold my breath for a very long time, sweetheart; I’m a world class swimmer, afterall.”

“Oh, you’re something alright.” You laughed as you turned to walk away, deciding then to begin your rounds of goodbyes before heading back to your suite.

You held the towel to your face for a few seconds, just taking a moment to breathe and enjoy the quiet, warmth, and serenity of your post-party ritual.

You were just about to pull the towel away when you felt gentle hands slide around your waist before you were being embraced between two strong arms.

“Long night?” He murmured into your shoulder before pressing a kiss to it.

You hummed in agreement and pulled the towel away from your face, smiling at Finnick in the reflection of the mirror.

“It always is in the Capitol.” You replied.

He offered you a knowing smile before pressing another kiss to your shoulder.

“Missed you.” He said before reaching around you to grab some makeup wipes to begin removing the work his own stylists put into his appearance tonight. “Anything interesting happen?”

You hummed noncommittally as you smoothed cream over your skin. “Not really. Someone tried setting me up with this guy again.”

“Really?” Finnick asked, feigning intrigue. “Was it a match made in heaven?”

You made a so-so sound. “He was pretty cute,” you allowed, “but I don’t know if it would work.”

“No?”

“No. I mean, for one, he didn’t start drooling the second he saw me. Huge red flag I think.”

With that, Finnick theatrically slammed his hand down on the countertop and levelled you with a disbelieving look. “You mean to tell me that he didn’t immediately fall to his knees in worship?”

“No!”

Finnick shook his head; simply aghast. “You can do so much better, honey.”

Your smile turned soft as you watched him lather some of his face wash between his hands before bringing them to his face. “I think so too.”

By the time he was done with washing his face, you were sitting on the counter with Finnick standing between your legs as you massaged some moisturizer into his skin.

“They don’t know what you deserve anyway.” Finnick states suddenly.

Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Who doesn’t?”

“The Capitol people; they don’t know what kind of partner you deserve.”

You stayed quiet as you finished working the product into his skin, pressing a kiss to his lips to alert him to the fact that you were finished. You felt rather shy when he opened his eyes and you found yourself pinned beneath his sea green gaze.

“They’d be sorely mistaken if they thought Capitol Darling Finnick Odair was all you deserved.”

You smiled softly at him before pressing another softer, lingering kiss to his lips.

“I’m rather fond of this Finnick Odair.”

You relished in the slight pink dusting of his cheeks as his smile grew wider before he pulled you in, cradling you to his chest.

You’d come to expect a lot of things to happen when attending a party in the Capitol.

It would take your stylists three hours to prep you for the party. It would take you forty minutes to disassemble yourself after the party. The outfits and jewelry you wore would cost more than most District families saw in years.

And there would always be people trying to introduce you to or set you up with their favourite victor; the Capitol’s darling.

The best part was that no one knew you and Finnick Odair have actually been dating behind closed doors for four years now.

[misctf]

I’m a Latino twink and I just got accepted into Alpha Delta Alpha but my fraternity brothers have been acting weird around me and I’ve overheard them talking about their “lost brother” and how something is “an abomination and needs to be fixed” there’s a party tonight and they’ve lent me some clothes I don’t want to wear them in case it’s some kind of prank

“Are you all fuckin’ serious?” Garrett Thompson cursed angrily, “Bros, what the actual fuck were you thinkin’?

“Dude, we tried our best!” One of his bros replied.

“Yeah! It wasn’t fuckin’ easy, bro.”

Garrett groaned and rubbed his temples. How could this be happening? How could... He figured it must’ve started at last year’s rager. One day, he’s a party animal. Lady’s man. Campus stud. Fuck, he lived quite the life. Then suddenly he’s a ghost. Some kind of accident. Total tragedy. Trapped between this world and the next. Just wandering around campus. Unseen, unheard, and worst of all- unable to get off. Months passed and as he wandered the frat house...

“Yooo bruh...” Jamie saw him, his eyes red from smoking weed, “Garrett is that you? So good to see you man.”

After months of not being seen, Garrett couldn’t believe it. Of course the stoner bro would make first contact. And Jaime- all too willing to delve into the occult- quickly started doing his research. Telling the other frat bros about Garrett.

“Dudes, hear me out.” Jaime slurred one night, “I know how to bring Garrett back.”

Garrett watched their plan unfold. Jaime rambling about some kind of magic and finding the perfect vessel. They would need some kind of anchor for Garrett’s spirit. He watched as they rummaged through old bins in their frat house and found his old jersey and clothes. Apparently getting some poor dumbass to wear his clothes would be all he needed to rejoin the living. But then things stalled. No one wanted to join Alpha Delta Alpha after Garrett’s accident. And no one wanted to wear some dead guy’s clothes. So, Garrett started to lose hope. Until...

“No fuckin’ way.” Garrett had thought when he saw you join the frat, “Bros!” He tried to yell, “You can’t let some fairy join! Dudes!”

But it was too late. When you joined, the frat was clearly uncomfortable. You weren’t exactly their ideal applicant. Lean and gay, you were certainly a first for Alpha Delta Alpha. And if the plan failed... well they’d be stuck with you... But it wasn’t just that. Some felt uncomfortable with the true purpose of you joining. Jaime’s plan was seen as an abomination by a few of them. But you largely ignored both the weird feelings you got and strange conversations you’d overhear tidbits of. Besides, they were your brothers.

And so when they came to you with some old clothes and told you to wear them, you did just that. After some initial hesitation, you stripped and picked up a jock strap. It was dirty, and carried a stale smell of sweat and cum. You cringed as you slowly pulled it up your legs, securing it around your cock and bubble butt.

“Fuck yeah.” Garrett said, watching you from the corner of the room. He grinned as he floated over and placed a hand on your cock, his eyes widening. It was brief, but he could actually feel the cloth of the jockstrap.  

You turned to inspect the other clothes, shifting uncomfortably at the sensation from your dick. Your tan cock started to lighten in color, becoming white with a thick, pink head. And as your bubble butt lost its padding and became thick with muscle, your cock started to grow. Inch after inch, it eventually settled on 5 inches soft. But you barely noticed these initial changes as you pulled up the basketball shorts. As they traversed your legs, the melanin in your skin broke down, turning your legs white. But it wasn’t just your skin that was changing. A forest of wiry leg hairs burst forth into existence, covering your now increasingly muscular calves and thighs. And as the shorts settled on your waist, you let out a moan.

“Fuck, he’s really enjoin’ this.” Garrett mumbled, watching as your muscular ass made contact with the bed, “Of course he is. Becomin’ a real fuckin’ man.” He grinned and sat next to you. His ghostly hand on your leg, “It’s basically jerking off.” He reassured himself as he wrapped his hand around your new cock.

You let out a moan as your cock hardened and bulged in your pants. You were always a bottom, rarely caring much about your cock. But now? Fuckkkkkkk.... It felt so good. Your mouth was agape, drool pooling as pleasure overwhelmed your brain. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this since you bottomed last. And in your haze, you looked down to see a hand. A ghostly hand.

“What?” Your eyes widened when you saw Garrett, “Oh fuck!”

Garrett pulled his hand away, “Dude! Shit! You can see me?” He could see the terror in your eyes, that only seemed to grow when he noticed his legs, “Okay, bruh... just chill.”

“No, no, no!” You say, “I...I...!”

“Stop fuckin’ talking and put the shirt on, bro.” Garrett insists, “Dude...” He grinned as he floated over to you, “I know you want this.” His hand rubbed up against the bulge in your pants, “You and me bro. Together. Come on.”

You bite your lip and resist letting out another moan. What the fuck was happening to you? What were these clothes doing to you? Did you want this? It would be nice, right? Would it? What would happen if you put the shirt on? You barely notice that the skin of your torso is becoming whiter. And your muscles are starting to expand. As you consider the possibility of becoming Garrett completely, your body is already moving in that direction. Before you can think more on this, Garrett’s ghost seemingly starts to sink into your body. His eyes are wide at first, he grins as he realizes he's being anchored.

“Wait...” You watch as your arm moves against your will and grabs the jersey, “Ohhhhhhhh....” You moan as your other hand grips your cock and starts to stroke.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and gasp. You look more and more like an Americanized Latino jock. Far from the twink you had been. And you cry out as the jersey is lowered onto your upper body. And as it settles into place, you groan. Muscles expand rapidly, filling out the jersey nicely. Your pecs become shelves- far from the lean musculature that got you compliments from all those tops. Your abs pop into existence, one by one. And you watch as your arms become a beefy mass of ripped triceps and biceps. Bulging with just slight movements. The strength flowing through you is so unfamiliar. So different. So...

“Fuck yeah bruh.” The words leave your lips without any input from your brain. The voice deep and dumb, “Dude, it feels so fuckin’ good to be alive.” You feel as your calloused hands roam your muscles, squeezing your pecs, “Nighty, nighty.”

And you feel yourself fading. Your mind wrapped warmly in thoughts of beer, football, and videogames. God, you couldn't wait to see your team play again. To grind up against someone at the club. What a life you were going to have now. A simplistic life. Garrett’s life. Your life...

Garrett grins as you settle on one identity, “Fuck....” He moans, “If dying meant doing that again...” He chuckles, “Alright, let’s...”

He strokes his cock and finds his favorite porno. Feminine moans fill the room, and Garrett breaths hard. Stroking faster- desperate. Growing frustrated as his cock softens. Not deriving the same pleasure that he used to. His mind wandering to post-game locker room showers. And his teammates' muscular bodies. And slowly, Garrett stops stroking his dick. His eyes start to widen.

“SHIT!”

Now, as he stands around his frat bros, he can’t help but wonder how he could be gay. How could Garrett Thompson, back from the dead, only want a dick up his ass? Garrett shakes his head and sighs. He couldn’t be angry at them... fuck they were so sexy. His eyes roam and he takes in their exposed muscular arms, and cocky grins. He imagines what they might be packing down there. What it might feel like to wrap his lips around their dicks. And his cock starts to stir.

“You good, bruh?”

Garrett snaps back to reality, “Yeah, yeah...” He flips them off, “You’re lucky you’re all so cute, you fuckers.”

The other bros looked at one another, sly grins forming on their faces. After all, Garrett owed them for all the trouble they went through. Right?

[wonderjanga]

I Didn’t Ask for This

Freddy decided to prank Billy. It was nothing special really. He just decided to enter a bunch of photos of Billy, in his Marvel form, of course, into the Sexiest Heroes Alive submissions. It’s basically a magazine company that accepts photos of heroes and eventually decides who’s the most handsome. Initially, Freddy hadn’t known how popular this magazine was. After all, he’s from the 50’s and apparently, this thing started in 85’. So he just submitted it like nothing, only after sneakily taking photos of Marvel. Of course, with the help of an actual woman who could probably know more about this. The actual woman was Ms. Bambi.

Freddy: *hiding in some bushes trying to take photos of Marvel helping a cat out of a tree*

Ms. Bambi: *standing next to the bush because she doesn’t feel like crouching down next to him* “What are we doing again?”

Freddy: “I’m taking photos of Captain Marvel so I can enter them into a competition.”

Ms. Bambi: “What types of photos? Photos of him saving people?”

Freddy: “No. Photos of him being…” *looks absolutely disturbed he’s about to let this word leave his life* “…Sexy.” *fake gags*

Ms. Bambi: *raises a brow* “Oh. And you think that’s going to pass?” *takes the camera*

They took many many photos and at the end they compared them all.

Ms. Bambi: *looking at the photos that they placed on a park bench* “How many can we send in at a time?”

Freddy: “I don’t know? As many as we want? Also, we? Are you committed to this too now?”

Ms. Bambi: “Yes.” *nods head* “How about we send in these four?” *points to four of the photos*

Freddy: “Sure?” *shrugs*

The two sent in the photos and promptly forgot about them for about three months. Meanwhile, Billy was still unaware of everything that happened. That is, until the day came that someone showed him the magazine.

Marvel: *minding his business and chilling*

Flash: *snickering as he walks over to him, holding a magazine* “Cap, you never seemed like the type. I’ll give you that.”

Marvel: “What do you mean?”

Flash: “I mean you never seemed like the type to enter yourself into Sexiest Heroes Alive.” *shows him the magazine*

Marvel: *takes the magazine and slowly starts looking horrified as he reads (think just like this)* “What the fuck?” *also sounds horrified as he flips through some of the pages of the magazine*

Flash: *surprised cause he’s never heard Marvel actually curse* “What?”

Marvel: “How did they get these? Most people in Fawcett avoid modern technology.”

Flash: “Are you saying someone took these without you knowing?”

Marvel: “Yes!”

Flash: “Do you know who could’ve done this?” *now sounds a little concerned for his friend*

Marvel: “No? I have no clue who it could be either besides maybe a villain but even then. The only person in Fawcett whose experienced tech outside of Fawcett, and would do something like this would be…”*anger slowly crosses his face until he looks completely infuriated* “Junior.” *stomps off to go find Freddy*

Flash: *genuinely concerned for Freddy because he’s never seen Marvel that mad in his life*

Don’t worry. Billy wasn’t that mad. He just yelled at Freddy for a bit before they both got ice cream and promptly forgot about it.

[quarterlifekitty]

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

[bringbackmaes14]

My mom has her TV on in her room almost 24/7 and it's always on some news outlet or other. We talk a lot about politics and world/national/local events. And we do have a lot of varying views on a lot of things but we're both adults who are capable of saying "well we've both stated we have differing opinions and it's clear that we're actually arguing at this point and not just talking so let's put away the topic for now." But there are also other times where I'm just too overwhelmed by my own life to think about what's going on in the bigger world around me, so my mom knows to be hesitant to bring up news stuff with me (i.e. she doesn't just start talking about politics/world events with me rather she'll ask if I'm in the mindset to discuss things when she wants my opinion on something). This is all relevant.

We've always been able to talk about nearly everything from the economy to the school system to human rights to human tragedy and we've never tried to censor ourselves around each other (outside of getting too emotional with our language). But about two weeks ago when the United Healthcare CEO was assassinated, my mom, who is in her 50s, came to me and she said "Did you see that the CEO of United Healthcare got unalived?"

And I just sat there and looked at her completely confused and she was like "did you not hear about it? It's all over the news. It happened in clear view on the street." Like the problem was that I hadn't heard of the event not that my Gen-X mother had just in a real life conversation said the word "unalived".

And I told her as much. "Yes I've heard that. Why did you say 'unalived' instead of 'murdered'?

And she told me that she just thought that since I'm touchy about heavier topics sometimes (which is definitely true, that does occasionally happen) she thought it would be better to just not use the "heavy" words. I asked her if she realized, honestly, how stupid that was because regardless of the word she used, she was still talking about a murder, it didn't change the subject matter, she was only making the subject matter seem less significant and severe by changing the word to baseless internet lingo that a bunch of misguided, clout-chasing influencers spread.

She hadn't. She's doesn't use the Internet replacement words a lot, online or otherwise. This was a first. She thought this was a different situation, and a fine one to use it in, and like the above stories people shared, it's still not.

I'm allowed to say there are days where I want to avoid heavier topics because I'm overwhelmed. I'm allowed to not ever really discuss certain topics because they actually trigger me based on my own experiences. But people who are out here living their whole lives like just talking about about difficult or controversial topics, or asking questions about it, or enjoying media where it's portrayed (especially when it's actually portrayed respectfully) are being ridiculous, and they're handicapping themselves. They're never going to learn how to talk about hard things, or how to handle hard things. And honestly I feel bad for them.

Luckily, in my case, once I explained why my mom saying what she said was incredibly weird and honestly devaluing to the conversation, she backtracked and told me that (like I said above) she doesn't talk like that regularly and she has no intention to start; it's just that this was a huge news event and that day had been particularly rough for me emotionally and she wasn't sure how to approach it. So her intentions were good and I'm very lucky that she understands and also agrees that the Internet censorship language is incredibly unnecessary.

we have GOT to kill tiktok/twitter self-censorship i just witnessed a grown adult say the word “smex” out loud to our professor

[harrywavycurly]

Worth The Fight: Swoon Worthy

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, pregnancy things, minor anxiety, jealousy and per usual a bit of arguing and angsty bits.

A/N: I’m so glad y’all are enjoying this story! It makes me so happy, now don’t be mad okay? It’s gonna be fine just hold on a bit longer I swear Harry is getting it together. Also this chapter is a mix of texts and a one shot yall will have to tell me how you like it?

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy

Summary: You meet Anne and have a super tiny casual run in with someone else and Harry says some a lot of things that he shouldn’t✨

You smile at Nick when he opens the door for you and helps you out of the car, you adjust your purse strap on your shoulder as you look around and notice you’re outside the front gate of a house and not a restaurant. You feel your brows pinch together as you reach into your bag to grab your phone so you can call Harry to make sure you’re at the correct place because why would you be meeting his mom for lunch at some random house and not a restaurant? But before you can find your phone the sound of the gate opening up makes you lift your head just in time to see Harry making his way towards you.

“Harry this is someone’s house.” He just laughs as he gives a nod and a wave to Nick who is still standing behind you.

“You’re so observant. Can’t get anything past you huh?” You roll your eyes as Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Come on you’re already late let’s not keep her waiting any longer.” He says with a smirk that you instantly want to smack off his face as he stands to the side allowing you to walk in front of him.

“Is this your-”

“No it’s not my house it’s my mom’s.” He informs you as the two of you walk up the driveway. “As much as I adore my mother I am a bit too grown for her to be crashing in my guest room when she visits and she likes to spend a good amount of time here so this just made the most sense.” He adds as the two of you make it to the bottom step of her porch.

“It’s lovely.” You tell him with a smile as you look at the exterior of the house, Harry watches you look around for a moment before he walks up the three steps to the front door leaving you near the bottom step looking at a rose bush his mother’s has planted in her flower beds.

“Oh I forgot to mention-” Just as you look up from the rose bush you see the front door open behind him and you feel as if everything after that happens in slow motion. You watch Harry turn and smile at the man who walks out of the door, he quickly gives him a hug and you think you hear something about seeing each other soon but you’re not really sure because right after that you find yourself staring into a very familiar pair of blue eyes as the man stands at the top of the steps and is looking down at you with a warm smile.

“Hello.” His accent is thicker in person than it is when you hear it coming from the television in your living room when you, your neighbor and Paris watch The Voice. He gives you a wave as he makes his way down the steps. “You alight love?” He asks with a hint of concern when he notices you haven’t said anything or moved from your spot in front of the rose bush.

“Uhm hi-you’re uh-uhm hi.” You don’t know if what came out of your mouth were actual words or not but either way it earns you a small chuckle as he reaches a hand out and gently places it on your arm.

“Hi. Lovely to meet you.” He says with a smile before he drops his hand from your arm and you find yourself reaching for the spot he just touched as he turns his head to look at Harry over his shoulder.

“See ya H! Text me about a round next week.” And with that he gives you one more glance and a little nod before he makes his way down the driveway towards the gate. You find yourself turning around and watching him leave and it’s as if he can feel your eyes on him because right before he walks through the gate he looks back and gives you another wave and a smile causing a dreamy sounding sigh to escape you as you just stare in the direction that he walked off in.

Harry watches the whole interaction with a clenched jaw and a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, he’s not sure what it is because never in all the years he’s known his band mate has he ever felt this way while watching him simply meet someone for the first time. He’s watched people practically throw themselves at the man and yet he finds himself more bothered by the way your eyes lit up at and how your cheeks got all pink with just a little greeting and a smile from his Irish friend and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Do you need a moment?” Harry’s voice snaps you back to reality as you turn and face the front of the house. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you with a raised brow.

“That-that was Niall Horan.” Your voice is still a little shaky from the shock of seeing him up close and personal as you point down the driveway towards the gate Niall left through. “He’s so pretty.” You mumble as you look at the spot on your arm that he touched while Harry rolls his eyes and lets out a scoff.

“Really?”

“What? He is.”

“I’m not arguing with you about that I’m just seeing if you’re done swooning over one of my best mates or do you need a few more minutes to wipe the drool off your chin?” You just send him a glare as you make your way up the steps. You know you could’ve handled meeting him a bit better but you weren’t at all prepared and you’re extremely emotional so honestly Harry is lucky you didn’t start crying the moment your eyes met with Niall’s piercing blue ones because they are truly just that pretty in person, the tv doesn’t do them justice at all.

“I wasn’t swooning you don’t even know what that word means.” You state as you make it up the last step and adjust your purse strap making Harry want to let out a groan due to his personal hatred for the black hole you call a purse you lug around everywhere.

“Yes I do it means to swoon.”

“Are you serious? That’s what you think swooning means? To swoon?”

“It doesn’t matter what it means I just know that’s what you were doing with Niall when you got all heart eyes and just stood there with your mouth hung open.”

“My mouth was not hung open don���t be rude.”

“Then-then the sigh when he left? What the hell was that about?”

“It wasn’t a sigh I was just breathing.”

“Oh please I’ve never heard you breathe like that before.”

“That’s because I’ve never swooned over you.” Harry feels his eyes narrow as his hands clench into fits at his sides as you just cross your arms over your chest and stare at him. It’s then that it hits you what’s going on and you feel your brows pinch together as you give Harry a questioning look. “Harry Styles are you jealous of Niall right now?” You watch him shake his head as a deep and almost dark chuckle escapes him.

“Why would I be jealous of Niall? I don’t even really like you enough to be jealous of anyone you find swoon worthy.” Harry regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, he doesn’t know why he said them because he knows they aren’t true. He does like you, how much and to what extent he’s not quite sure but at least enough to feel a small bubbling of jealousy in the pit of his stomach when he saw you gawking at Niall right in front of him.

“Right. Can we go inside now?” You drop your arms from your chest so you can adjust your purse strap as you look away from Harry and towards the front door. Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand over his face, he mentally scolds himself for letting his emotions get the best of him and making him to say things that make you practically deflate right before his eyes.

“I’m so-”

“What exactly have you told her about us?” Harry rubs his lips together when you cut off his attempt at an apology and he knows he’s going to just have to add it to the list of things he has to eventually say sorry for whenever you’re finally ready and willing to hear them.

He opens the door and stands to the side allowing you to go in first and when you give him a small close lipped smile as you walk by he catches your eyes for a brief moment and he feels his chest tighten at how exhausted you look. It’s not the kind of exhausted in the sense you could fall asleep at any moment but the kind that shows you’re just emotionally drained and he knows it’s his fault. His words have managed to take the sparkle and light he saw in your eyes earlier when you arrived and were looking at his mother’s rose bushes, leaving behind only a dull glimmer.

It doesn’t help that he knows you’re putting on a brave face because you’re about to meet his mother, something you repeatedly told him you weren’t ready for and instead of listening and trying to work out a better time he just ignored you because for him it’s almost easier to argue and bicker with you than it is to try to talk and come to reasonable conclusions about things. And the thing is Harry just doesn’t know how to stop himself sometimes before he’s saying something stupid and leaving you to deal with the emotional aftermath. Much like he’s doing now as he watches you swallow down your emotions, readying yourself for the task at hand before you look at him over your shoulder with a quirked brow as you stare at him from his mother’s entryway.

“Harry?” You saying his name brings him back to the moment, he’s quick to walk into the house with a playful smile on his face acting like he didn’t just say something extremely hurtful to you a few moments ago as he takes a few steps so he’s standing next to you.

“Oh you know just that we are madly in love and I’m planning on proposing on your birthday which-that’s not today right? Because I’m not prepared at all I don’t have a ring or anything.” He can tell you’re not in the mood for his jokes by the way you just let out a sigh but before he can say anything you just stand up a bit straighter and turn your head so you can look him right in the eyes and that’s how he knows you’re about to say something that’s going to probably hurt his feelings.

“Don’t bother with a ring. I’d never marry someone I don’t swoon over.” You say it so casually but Harry knows there’s an undertone of seriousness to your words, you wouldn’t marry someone like him is what you’re saying and he can’t blame you because right now he doesn’t even think he likes himself very much let alone thinks he’s anywhere close to being marriage material.

“Yeah you deserve a swoon worthy husband.”

“I know I do.”

“I told her the truth.” Harry says finally really answering your original question as he leads you further into the house. “So she knows everything.” He adds as he looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re following behind him, you pause and give him a wide eyed stare as your hand reaches out and grabs his elbow keeping him from taking another step.

“You told her everything?” You ask in a whispered tone making Harry have to hold back a chuckle as he sees panic begin to set in as the thought of his mother knowing all the details of the two of you’s relationship hits you.

“I mean I might have spared her a few minor details about how we actually made the twins but other than that yeah she-she knows everything.” You let out a sigh as you release his elbow and Harry then does something that shocks the both of you, he places his hand on your lower back and in an almost comforting gesture you feel his thumb rub against the fabric of your shirt as he gently guides you into his mother’s living room. “Just relax. She’s going to love you.” Is the last thing you hear him say and before you can even fully react to it you hear the sound of a sliding door opening.

“Oh my goodness.” Harry grins as his mom walks into the living room from her backyard, he takes a step to the side letting his hand fall from your back so he can give you and his mom some room to say hello. “You are just lovely.” You feel your cheeks get warm as Harry’s mom walks over to you with her hands out. “I’m Anne.” You introduce yourself to her with a smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this I’m sorry if you ran into Niall on the way in. He just needed some-”

“Oh yeah we ran into him alright.” You turn your head to send Harry a warning glare as Anne grabs your hands giving them a reassuring squeeze while Harry ignores your threatening looks and heads off towards the kitchen.

“He’s always been a bit dramatic so you’ll have to get used to that I’m afraid.” Anne explains as she watches your eyes linger on the back of Harry’s worn out band t shirt before he disappears into the kitchen.

“So it’s not just me that brings this out of him? That’s good to know because I was beginning to think I had something wrong with me that just made him act a little wacky.” You say with a sigh of relief making her laugh as she lets go of your hands and subtly eyes your outfit, you feel embarrassed for a moment wondering if maybe she’ll think you didn’t find this to be an occasion worth dressing up for but then you see her eyes land on your small bump and a grin takes over her features and you instantly see where Harry gets his smile from.

“Come on love.” She reaches for one of your hands before turning around and heading towards the sliding glass door. “Let me show you what I’ve got for you and let me know if anything sets you off okay? I know how smells can be a bit rough during all this.” Harry stands in the kitchen and watches the two of you make your way outside, his mom places your bag down on a chair by the back door before she escorts you outside to the table he helped her set up before you arrived.

“Harry said you’ve been craving jams on toast so I thought this would be a safe thing to start with and he also said you like carrots?” You can only nod as you stare at the table in front of you that has a few plates full of pieces of toast cut up into cute shapes all with different types of jams spread on top of them while one plate has a mixture of vegetables on it with a dip in the middle.

“I do yes-I like carrots and this is wonderful thank you.” Anne smiles as you take a seat at the table, she sits down in the chair next to you and hands you a plate full of the toast and jam so you can have an easier time reaching it. The two of you snack on some toast and vegetables and talk about your work and how long she’s going to be visiting California before a comfortable silence overtakes the table for a few moments.

“I just want you to know that he told me what he did.” Her voice is gentle not wanting to ruin the mood surrounding the two of you as she looks at you with soft kind eyes, you swallow the lump you feel forming in your throat as your hands fall to your lap. “There’s nothing I can say that will undo that kind of damage but I hope you know that I’m so thankful you’re still letting him be apart of this even after-well after all that.” You look away from her and down at the plate in front of you as you feel your eyes start to get watery.

“I’ll always let him to be apart of this for as long as he wants to be apart of this no matter how I may feel about him.” Anne reaches over and places a hand over yours that are resting on your lap and gives them a soft pat.

“I know he comes across as a bit of a uhm well-a bit of an ass but he does seem to care that he upsets you because he’s never called me quite as distraught as he was that night you didn’t let him inside your apartment.” You simply shrug in response as you lift your head and look at the end of the table where you notice a tea pot and some cups.

“That was a rough not for all of us it seems.” You inform her as you place a hand on your bump as you reach for the tea pot but before you can actually grab it you see a very familiar hand with a cross tattoo between the thumb and index finger grab the handle.

“I can do it.” Harry’s voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it before making you blink up at him as he pours some tea into a cup. “You’re not going to want to watch this next part mom. It’s going to upset you.” He warns as he grabs a jar from next to the pot, Anne just playfully rolls her eyes as she watches her son open the jar and reach for a spoon.

“Is that-”

“Peppermint tea and honey? Yes. Is it killing me to make it for you? Yes but I know you like it and it helps with uh-”

“Nausea.” You finish for him resulting in a small nod and what you think is a hint of a smile as he gently places the teacup in front of you.

“Is that enough honey? I don’t know uhm how-how much you like in your uh tea.” Harry asks all of a sudden feeling very unsure of himself as if it just dawned on him that the amount of honey you take in your tea is just one of the many things he doesn’t know about you. You pick up the teacup and bring it up to your nose and take a sniff and Anne covers her mouth to hide her giggle at the way your nose scrunches up and you very quickly place the cup back down on the table.

“Still smells minty.” You explain as Harry raises a brow at you when you don’t answer his question right away.

“Well yeah it’s peppermint tea.”

“Yeah but I don’t like peppermint tea that’s why I add honey.”

“You-you don’t like peppermint tea?”

“Not really.”

“You’ve been ruining a perfectly respectable tea with honey and you don’t even like it?”

“Perfectly respectable? What kind of tea do you think isn’t respectable?”

“I don’t like lavender tea. Now really why do you drink something you don’t even like? There are so many other nausea remedies you know that right?”

“I’m aware but this one is easy and it tastes fine when I add a lot of honey.” Harry just stares at you as you reach for the jar of honey with the spoon still in it, you hear him let out a huff as he grabs it for you and places another heaping spoonful into your teacup.

“How does this even help with your tummy if it’s just basically honey and hot water?” He asks as he places the honey back near the teapot before he takes a seat in the empty chair next to you.

“Don’t know and I really don’t care because it works so I don’t question it.” Anne sits back in her chair as she watches the two of you go back and forth over the way you prefer your tea and she has to fight back a smile as she notices the way the two of you stare at each other during the whole exchange. Neither of you break eye contact unless it’s when you reach for something but even then Harry is quick to grab it for you, probably not even aware of what he’s doing but subconsciously wanting to do things for you so he has to take advantage of the opportunities when he can, such as spooning extra honey into your teacup while in the middle of a silly argument.

“So love you’re what? Eleven weeks now?” You turn your attention away from Harry to look at Anne who is looking at you with a warm smile. You nod and take a little sip of your tea and smile when it tastes just like it usually does when you make it or maybe a bit better if you’re being honest. “Have you told anyone yet?” She asks and you hear Harry shift in his seat next to you as he rests his hands in his lap and something tells you that if you were to look over your shoulder at him he’d be messing with his rings.

“Uhm not yet I was waiting till I went a little over twelve weeks or so just to be safe.” You explain as you place your teacup back on the table, she just smiles and nods as you reach for a piece of toast with raspberry jam spread all over it. “I also didn’t know how you uh would want to do that? Like announce it.” You look over at Harry as you speak and he lets out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair while leaning back into the chair.

“I honestly don’t know if I’m going to.” Harry states just as you take a bite out of your toast, he watches your eyebrows furrow as you try to take in what he just told you.

“What do you mean?” You ask once you finish chewing the bite in your mouth.

“I’m going to go check on the cake.” Anne says excusing herself as she stands up from the table, she gives Harry a look that you miss before she walks inside and the moment the sliding door closes Harry lets out a groan and runs both hands over his face as his head rests on the back of his chair.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now.” You roll your eyes at his attempt to change the conversation, but this might as well be discussed now rather than later when you’re even more pregnant and hormonal which just means you’ll be easier to set off on a crying fit.

���Just tell me what you mean by that Harry. You don’t know if you’re going to announce the fact you’re going to be a dad? People will find out eventually you know that right?”

“I don’t know if I want to announce the circumstances in which made me a dad. If I say I’m about to be a dad then they’ll expect an engagement announcement or some photos of me and some hidden girlfriend or something and that’s not the case with us is it?” You feel the lump return to your throat at his harsh tone making the tip of your nose turn pink as you look away from him and down at your lap while you sniffle.

“Once I announce I have a set of twins on the way and they see us together they’ll know very quickly that we are just two people who hooked up one night and ended up here.” Harry adds as he stands up from his seat and gestures to the two of you with his arms, completely ignoring the way you aren’t looking at him and the way your cheeks are now a bit blotchy and your breathing is shaky, all the clear signs that would tell him you’re crying if he would just stop talking and look at you.

“I always thought I’d be having kids with someone that I loved not someone that I just shared a few too many tequila shots with.” His hands are in his hair tugging at his roots as he closes his eyes and tries to take a few deep breathes so he can calm down, not really sure if it’s the topic itself that has made him so upset or if it’s a lingering side effect from his small bout of jealousy earlier and it’s just now rearing its ugly head.

“Harry Edward Styles.” His mom’s voice coming from behind him makes his eyes snap open as he turns around just in time to see you walk around her and through the back door and into the house. He raises a brow as he turns his head to your seat over his shoulder and sure enough it’s empty, he hadn’t even noticed you left the table.

“I uh-I’ll be right back.” Anne just shakes her head as she crosses his arms over her chest and blocks the door from him when he takes a few quick steps towards it.

“No you’ll go sit down and wait for me to get back.” He just nods and lowers his head before he turns around and goes back to his seat at the table. Anne lets out a sad sigh as she turns around and heads inside to find you.

“It’s okay. We aren’t doing this here. Wait till you get home. It’ll be fine.” Anne feels her heart shatter a little as she hears you mumbling to yourself in the entryway, where she finds you with your bag over your shoulder and your phone clutched in your hand while a steady stream of tears make their way down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry love.” Her voice is like a warm hug engulfing you as she appears in the entryway, you look at her and before you can say anything she is wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in for a gentle hug. “Do whatever you need to do for yourself okay? I promise he will respect whatever boundaries you need to set.” She reassures you as she gives you a small squeeze while your arms wrap around her to return the hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to stay longer.” You mumble between sniffles as Anne pulls away and she just brushes it off as she places a hand on your shoulder.

“Next time it’ll just be us.” She says with a smile as your phone goes off letting you know your ride is almost there. “Let me know if you need anything okay?” You just nod as she leans in for one more quick hug before she opens the front door for you, she stands there and watches you walk down the driveway and to the gate and she waves when you turn to and look at her before walking through the gate. It’s not until she sees the car you get in the passenger seat of drive off that she turns around and goes back inside.

Harry is chewing on his bottom lip while he waits for his mom to return to the backyard, he keeps replaying the last five minutes over and over in his head and he can’t believe he let himself get so caught up in his little tangent that he didn’t even notice you got up and left the table. He feels horrible because he doesn’t even know why he got so worked up over something so stupid. Because Harry knows he is going to have to tell the world he’s going to be a dad eventually, and he would much rather be the one to do it than to have a photo leaked of him with you leaving Dr. Andrews’s office or out shopping for baby things once the time comes for that. He wants it be something well thought out and personal not some rushed, shot from across the street, horrible angled pap photo that the both of you hate that ends up being how the world finds out about the Styles twins in the making.

His main thing is he just doesn’t want to deal with the questions of who you are because he doesn’t know how to answer them, because who even are you to him right now? Besides the obvious answer being the one doing all the hard work and carrying his children, the one he can’t seem to just have a normal conversation with, but also someone he clearly liked enough to give his actual personal number to and thought was cute enough to ask to have a mid night out romp in the bathroom with. For a moment Harry wishes the two of you could be those people again, the ones who met in that karaoke bar and were just having fun and enjoying each others company, before all the pregnancy chaos happened and he potentially ruined everything. Because something deep inside of him knows that if he just took the time to get to know you and stopped getting in his own way, he’d probably really like you and that kind of terrifies him.

“You are going to ensure that girl has a peaceful and smooth pregnancy from here on out do you understand me young man?” Anne’s stern voice makes Harry sit up straighter and knocks him out of his thoughts as he turns to give her all his attention as she stands at the end of the table with a disappointed look on her face.

“Yes ma’am.”

“You have such a way with words Harry and it’s a blessing as well as a curse because sometimes you just say the most hurtful things.” Harry swallows hard as his mom lets out a sigh and places a hand on her hip.

“I love you and you know I want to support you but I will not allow you to talk to her like that. You need to get your head out of your ass and treat her with a little respect or else you’re going to end up watching your babies be brought into this world over a phone because she won’t want you anywhere near her and that means not being in the delivery room and you’ll never forgive yourself if that’s how it ends up Harry.” He just nods as he feels his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears he can’t seem to blink away at the thought of you being so over him that you don’t even want him in the delivery room, something he would have no choice but to agree to.

“I keep-keep fucking it up.” He admits as he sniffles making Anne take a step over to him so she can place her hands on the tops of his shoulders over the chair. “I don’t know why I just-just keep hurting her.”

“Just give her some time and maybe while you’re doing that you should give your therapist a call?” She suggests as a few tears slip past Harry’s closed eyes as he just nods.

“Okay.” Anne smiles at his agreement and leans down and places a kiss to the top of his head before she gives his shoulders a nice squeeze.

“It’ll be okay Harry you just have to do better starting now.” She tells him before she lets go of his shoulders and heads back inside once again leaving Harry alone at the table in her backyard. He opens his eyes and wipes away the few stray tears that try to make their way down his cheeks, his head turns and his eyes land on your teacup and before he can stop himself he reaches over and grabs it so he can take a sip out of it.

“Still disgusting.” He mumbles to himself as he scrunches his nose while he places it back down on the table before he grabs a piece of toast off your plate. “That’s not bad though.” He says after he takes a bite out of a a piece with your favorite raspberry jam on it.

He sniffles a bit as he leans back in his chair to get comfortable with the toast in one hand and his phone in the other. He lets out a huff as he scrolls through his contacts until he finds his therapists’s number, figuring there no time like the present, ready to put his therapist’s whole “I’m here for you anytime” to the test as he hits the call icon while he takes another bite of your current pregnancy craving. All while trying not to think about what kind of emotional state you’re currently in all due to his irrational and hurtful outbursts because if he’s feeling this horrible and he’s the one who did the talking he can’t imagine how you must be feeling as the one who had to endure the hurtful words.

“So whose house was that?” Ethan, your neighbor who lives directly across from you asks after a few moments of you sniffling and silently wiping your face to try to rid your cheeks of any wetness due to your tears while stopped at a red light.

“Anne’s.” Is all you can manage to say before you feel your bottom lip start to tremble as you look down at your purse in your lap. Ethan just nods as he does his best to not let on to the fact he clearly knows you’re having a breakdown in his passenger seat because he also had to help you into that very same seat because your tears had made everything a little blurry by the time he got to the house to pick you up and you were a half step away from tripping on the curb before he caught your elbow.

“I met Niall Horan.” You mumble as the light turns green and Ethan lets out a chuckle as he lightly shakes his head before making his way down the street.

“How many members of One Direction are you currently seeing?” He jokes and that makes you turn to look at him with a raised brow as you rub your hand under your nose, not bothering to try to be polite and look cute in your current teary eyed and snotty state because Ethan has seen you look much worse.

“None.” You answer as you look down at your lap and place a hand over your bump. “But I did let one of them get me pregnant.” Ethan has to stop himself from accidentally slamming on the brakes as you casually let the information fall from your lips deciding that now is as good a time as any to let your neighbor who is also one of your very good friends know why you’ve been so emotional and a bit cranky lately.

“Please god let it be Zayn.” Ethan half whispers to himself making you reach over with your free hand and playfully swat at his arm with a chuckle making him smile at the sound of your laugh even if it is a bit watery and rough.

“It’s not Zayn.” You say with a playful sadness as Ethan pulls into the parking lot of the apartment complex.

“And obviously it’s not Niall if you just met him today.” You just nod as he pulls into his assigned spot and puts his car into park. You stare out the windshield as he turns to look at you, he lets out a sigh as he reaches over and places a hand on your forearm. “Well if it’s who’s been lurking around our hallway then let’s just hope this baby has your brains.”

“You mean babies.” Ethan’s eyes go a little wide but he’s quick to recover and just nods and lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug at the same time as if what you just said is the most normal thing he’s ever heard come out of your mouth.

“Twins?” You just nod as you look over at him and he gives you a smile that makes you feel like crying all over again but for a totally different reason. “Holy shit that’s-that’s amazing.” The excitement and genuine happiness you can feel practically radiating off of Ethan is the reaction you find yourself wishing Harry would’ve had when he found out instead of the one he gave you that ended with you alone in an exam room.

“You think so?” Ethan just nods as he gives your arm a squeeze. “They are the size of limes right now.” You inform him for no reason other than it’s one of the few facts you have to offer at the moment about the two humans growing in your tummy.

“Limes huh? That’s like my favorite fruit and I’m not just saying that because I’m a bartender.” You playfully roll your eyes at him before he just lets you sit in silence with him for a moment.

“I don’t think he likes me.” You whisper but Ethan is close enough that he hears you and you feel his grip on your arm tighten just slightly making you turn to look him in his green eyes that thankfully aren’t as big and dumb as Harry’s. “Like at all and I actually think he might-he might hate me?”

“Want me to kick his ass? He’s got like six or seven years on me so I’m pretty sure I can take him.”

“You may be younger than him but age has nothing to do with being able to beat someone up.”

“I mean come on he’s Harry Styles how much of a punch can the man pack? Besides I’ll let Paris get him in the ankles and I’ll just deck him in his pretty face and it’ll be easy and over with in a few seconds.” You just stare at him for a minute after he’s done explaining his plan of attack and when he lets out a sigh you know it’s one of defeat as he releases his hold on your forearm and runs a hand through his blonde hair.

“Fine because you’re an amazing neighbor and a good friend I won’t hit him. But I make no promises on being nice to him.” You give him a smile before you begin to unbuckle yourself and get out of the car while he takes the keys out of the ignition.

“Thank you Ethan. For everything.” He just smiles and grabs your purse from you before you can even try to put it over your shoulder and slings it over his as the two of you head inside the lobby of the complex.

“You’re welcome.” You lean into him as he tosses his arm over your shoulder while the two of you wait for the elevator. “I know you’re the one who usually drops the older sister advice on me but I just want to say that if he’s gonna act like a douchebag and make you upset like this all the time then fuck him. You don’t need him. You’ll be okay because I’ll make sure of it.” You know he means every word because Ethan isn’t one to just tell you something like this unless he feels he needs to. The two of you step into the elevator and press the number five before you decide to say anything in response.

“So the younger brother wisdom has finally hit you huh? I was wondering when that would happen. Only took two years of living across the hall from each other.” He laughs as he pulls you closer to his side making you smile. “I do appreciate the advice.”

“I just love and respect you too much to see you put up with bullshit from someone who has a god awful naked mermaid on his forearm.” You give Ethan’s chest a smack as the doors open and he lets you walk out first leading the way to your door. “Also you know old lady Sherry is going to fucking freak when she hears her favorite cat lady is having twins.” Ethan adds as the two of you walk by Sherry’s door and you laugh and nod because she does refer to you as a cat lady because she thinks at your age you should be married with babies not living alone with Paris.

“She’s not an old lady Ethan she’s not even in her sixties yet.” You correct him but he just rolls his eyes and brushes you off as the two of you walk up to your doors. You turn to him as he is digging through your bag that’s still over his shoulder, no doubt looking for your keys.

“I’m in my early twenties so I’m sorry everyone over fifty is old.” He teases as he fishes your keys out and hands them to you before he slides your purse off his shoulder and gently places the strap on top of yours making sure it doesn’t fall off. “So tell me what was he-”

“So much prettier in person.” You answer already knowing who he’s referring to and he laughs at how soft your voice goes as the memory of your brief encounter with Niall runs through your head. “The television doesn’t do him justice at all.” You explain since Ethan is the one you watch The Voice with sometimes along with Paris.

“But he looks so pretty on the screen already? How can he possibly be prettier in real life?” He asks with a quirked brow and you just shrug causing the strap of your purse to fall down into the crook of your elbow.

“Well I’m glad something good happened to you today.” You smile as he leans in and wraps his arms around you in a hug.

“Love you Ethan.” He smiles as he pulls away and you turn to unlock your front door.

“Love you too and please tell your little ankle biting boy that I said hello.” You laugh and just nod as you open your door, you turn around to close it and give Ethan a wave as you watch him walk into his own apartment and he waves back before closing his door.

You let out a heavy sigh as you lock the door and drop your bag at your feet. You hear the sound of a bell jingling and soon Paris is purring at your ankles as he rubs his head along your shins making you smile as you bend over and pick him up.

“Uncle Ethan says hello.” Paris just purrs in response as he nuzzles his head against your cheek as you make your way into the living room. “Oh Paris do I have some news for you.” You say with a sigh as you take a seat on your couch and get comfortable with your feet propped up on the coffee table. Paris moves so he’s resting in your lap with his head against your small bump and you bite your bottom lip as you get ready to spill all the events that happened during the few hours you were gone to him, and you’re thankful he isn’t looking at you because you’re not quite sure you could handle looking into his eyes right now since they remind you too much of the big dumb green ones that belong to the man that made you cry just half an hour ago.

[fancyfeathers]

Imagine Daughter!Reader pulls a "I'm gonna fake a crush on my brother's best friend so I can make them ALL uncomfortable" but it backfires and the best friend actually likes her back😭? (obviously daughter!reader's age will depend on the batboys bestfriend so no weird stuff going on in this ask dw) Like for Dick, Wally West. Maybe she asks the question "What else can go fast?" or something odd. Then for Jason, Roy Harper she asks him to teach her archery. Jason probably trusting her(maybe) he let's it go on but then catches Roy looking at her differently. Then for the others the same thing, like Tim- Conner. Something like REALLLLLLLLY kid-ish for Jon Kent if you feel like adding Damian's best friend. (These are all separate so no harem thing going on thank god.) Thank you for reading!!!!!<3

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

YES OH MY GOD I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS!

So realistically because she is the youngest, her crush would be on either Jon because he would only be a year older than her, or Connor who may be a bit older (physically, cause he was a lab child) but still within that reasonable age. Then in actual canon she has a boyfriend, who may be a lot little crazy, but they’re in love… right?

But anyway for this let’s say her age differs on each scenario in this okay

Okay Dick is just sitting there the like what the hell the moment he walks back in living room to see his little sister laughing and chatting with Wally, sitting way too close for comfort. Dick tries to show some self restraint, give the benefit of the doubt, but let’s be honest when Wally West falls in love it is head over heels and it is something that happens in an instant, basically love at first sight, she wouldn’t have to say anything to him, she just has to walk into a room. Then cue Dick ending up as a third wheel for the rest of the day, it probably gets to the point where Dick comes up with some excuse of why Wally needs to leave early and then as Wally is leaving he might ask about Dick’s sister and Dick gives him the biggest side eye ever and he just drops the topic. Then Dick goes back inside and his sister’s hair is all messed up, like a strong wind brew by and she is just holding her phone when she wasn’t a second ago…

“What…happened?”

“I think Wally put his number in my phone…”

“Son of a-“

With Jason and Roy, they are going on a mission together and training beforehand. Sister!Darling just handing around because Bruce and the rest of their siblings are gone and Alfred is out running errands that day, so until they get back Jason has to watch her which Roy thinks is weird because she is a few years younger than them for the sake of this post, but okay. So she is just sitting in the cave, reading a book Jason gave her because she not allowed down there so she’s not allowed to touch anything. Jason walks off to go find a different type of bullet and asks Roy to keep an eye on her because she is not allowed anywhere near the weapons or gear, and Roy just looks at her and waves her over…

“Cmon’ wanna try taking a shot?”

“Um… I don’t know-“

“I can teach you.”

So he does, and I really don’t know how to describe it besides this scene from Princess Diaries and just imagine when Jason comes back and found his best friend holding his little sister from the back, his cheek practically pressed against hers. He just loudly clears her throat and tells her that he needs to talk to her and he takes her out of the cave and sends her to her room, locking her in and sends a note to Bruce or whoever going to be home first what happened and where she is. Then he does back downstairs and Roy has the guts to ask if she is single and Jason just can’t…

“Fuck off Roy, she’s off limits.”

Now Tim has a harder time shaking off his friend, and I mean going by Connor in the comics (cause we don’t talk about Connor in Young Justice here) he is a bit of a headstrong personality and cocky, so if Connor and his sister are chatting and teasing each other he doesn’t really think much of it literally until he finds them kissing, a hand on her thigh and on the back of her neck and Connor is slightly levitating. Tim waits until Connor leaves and then he questions his sister about it, and she fesses up to basically trying to get on Tim’s nerves by flirting with his best friend but Connor ended up actually liking her, like a lot and one thing led to another and they were making out and have been texting for weeks and Tim didn’t think of it twice because it was Connor.

So then Tim asks Bruce to try to intervene by asking Clark for help but Connor has already gushed about his situationship with her to literally everyone in the Kent Family, and Clark has already gave Connor advice to ask her out and ideas for dates and it even got to the point where Ma and Pa are asking about when they can meet her because she sounds like a sweet girl. She just dug herself in a hole with this one, platonic Yandere!Superfam anyone?

Then Damian, well this is just kiddy love with his sister and Jon, and Damian knows that but it doesn’t mean he is okay with it. Whenever Jon is is over they are always talking, and Jon is just trying to impress her with his (half) kryptonian powers. Meanwhile Damian is giving Jon the side eye and really it’s nothing but that doesn’t stop him from running to go tell Bruce about it, what if it evolves into something more when they get older. So Bruce goes to talk to Clark about it and Clark doesn’t think it’s a big deal, they’re just kids and this is how kids are and so Damian just has to watch while Jon pushes her on the swings and deal with the fact that she just wants to spend time with Jon Kent and not him. Ugh.