#and my hair was one of the first points that affirmed that for me

[kittygamer429]

I think a lot of adults (at least around me) don’t realize how much a simple haircut can mean to someone.

I was born female but grew up a tomboy. When I started learning about the lgbt+ community I never really clicked with a lot of the terms I learned. I didn’t hate being a girl. I didn’t prefer “girly” things but I didn’t feel like a guy. The sexuality side was a little easier (even if I don’t have quite the right labels for myself yet, I don’t really need them rn either).

For my sophomore year I was invited to prom by my jr friend. I wore a dress and loved the way it flowed around me. I liked the way the blush and lipstick looked on me. I felt pretty. Two years later and missing my jr prom to lockdown, senior year came around and I wore a skirt and wore a tailcoat tux for the top. I loved the vest and tie, and the way it fit my personality. I felt amazing.

Not long after the lock down I convinced my mom to help me shave a section of my hair, a small part above my right ear to where my hair parted to the left. My uncle shaved it and I loved it. I liked the way the shave part felt, I liked the freedom of it. My hair was still long everywhere else.

Senior year I cut most of my hair off. I got a what the internet calls a “lesbian” hair cut. All but a section in the middle of my head was shaved off and that section when brushed down reached just enough to tuck behind my ear. I almost cried from joy.

A good 7 inches or so of hair was on the floor, some of my family complained my hair was too short, but I was so happy. It was as if it felt right. Even now, 2 years later I still have lost of my hair shaved down with the long part varying in length. My sister even told me this is how she’s always pictured me, that I looked good with long hair, but that the short style I now have fit me too.

It’s have the same haircut as my brother in law but I don’t care because I love it. My grandma may always complain when I have to shave my hair every two weeks to keep it short, but I don’t care.

I still identify as a girl, and my hair didn’t change that. In the end my hair is an extension of myself but it doesn’t define me. I’ve always told my family if my hair got messed up bad, I would care if I had to shave it off and start over.

I know not every is indifferent about the hair like that, but I think part of my own experience speaks volumes for people who think that hair can change someones sexuality or gender identity. It doesn’t. Hair is an expression. Weather it makes someone feel more comfortable is subjective. Some straight men like having longer hair, some straight women like short hair.

I think I’m the end everyone should experiment with there hair, in whatever way they feel comfortable. I know some cultures hair is sacred or otherwise important. But if someone wants to try a shorter hair cut, or grow out their hair or otherwise try something non conventional, let them. Worst case it grows back or can be cut.

[lovebugism]

ok reader x eddie having a casual conversation about sex, talking about what they're both into, leading to some smut??? just hearing what eddie's into sounds so hottttt (i imagine its filthy,, sorry)

ty for requesting! hope you like it!! — a failed date with eddie leads to a night in and several confessions (established relationship, mostly fluff, talks of sex but no actual smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson is a hopeless romantic.

Not because he loves like it’s breathing (though some would argue otherwise), but because his attempts to be affectionate with you are complete and utter failures.

He had a whole romantic day planned. A late lunch, a quick walk, and then sunset at the park. Honestly, it probably would’ve been a pretty metal date if it was any day other than this one — the biggest flood of the whole goddamn year.

You got to the diner just fine but had to rush back to the trailer in the rain since he didn’t have his van. Thankfully, it waited to outright pour until he got you home. Now, his leather jacket — which you’d used as a makeshift umbrella — hangs beside the opened window to dry.

The orange autumn breeze rolls over your bare bodies like silk (because, of course, an innocent shower after getting drenched in the rain couldn’t not end in getting dirty again).

“Was all this just a ploy to get me into bed?” you tease, tracing the freckles on his back with the tip of your finger. “’Cause you coulda just asked, you know? I would’ve said yes.”

Lying flat on his stomach, Eddie laughs into his folded-up arms. His deep brown hair brushes his pale shoulders when he turns to look at you. His smile is swollen and rosy and crooked.

“You got me, princess. Making my girlfriend walk in disgusting weather was all a part of my evil plan.”

“I wouldn’t say it was evil.”

“No?”

“Sinful, maybe. Sexy, even,” you joke with a lopsided grin. “But no, not evil.”

“Is that so?” he lilts as he rises on his elbow to prop his cheek on his fist.

You shake your head and roll onto your back. Your eyes flit to the spotted ceiling. A smirk blossoms on your lips. “I feel like evil would imply that it was hurtful in some way. And that thing you did in the shower felt way too good to be evil.”

“What thing?” the boy wonders with pinched-together brows.

You shoot him a look. “You know…” you hum vaguely, expectantly.

“No. I don’t, actually,” Eddie laughs, mostly at himself. “I’m kinda dumb, in case you forgot.”

“You’re not dumb, Eds.”

“Stop being sweet. You’re deflecting.”

You concede with a small huff. “That… That thing. With your mouth. When you pressed me against the wall and— please, don’t make me describe it, Eddie,” you ramble, then cut yourself off to whine.

He meets your grimace with a boyish grin. “I don’t know. I kinda like hearing you talk about it.”

“I’ll die,” you deadpan.

“You’re so dramatic.”

His words are harsh, but his pink smile is kind. He kisses you with it after — a smacking peck to the corner of your mouth that migrates rather quickly. He sprinkles his lips along your jaw and chin and neck. 

That’s where he lingers. 

Eddie finds your pulse point and goes a half-inch higher, just like he did while he was fucking you against the shower wall. You nearly came the first time he kissed you there. 

He sucks at the delicate skin until he leaves another faint mark. The feeling of his tongue and teeth on your newfound sweet spot makes your toes curl. It has you moaning out loud before you mean to.

His lips audibly smack when he pulls away.

“That thing?” he wonders, smiling down at you like he already knows the answer.

Your thighs clench together. Your bones are made of mush. “That thing,” you repeat in the affirmative.

“Well, if we’re sharing secrets…” Eddie singsongs, then leans in all close like he’s about to spill the latest gossip. His fingers spread out along your bare waist, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I really liked it when you got all mean.”

You hadn’t thought much of it, then — when Eddie edged you on the counter with his fingers and laughed when you writhed. 

You didn’t even let him make it up to you after, just sucked him off and told him he wasn’t allowed to touch you. “Don’t cum ’til I tell you to, understand?” you’d said. “Or I’m gonna get myself off, and you’re gonna watch.”

He was a good boy for you, though, and you let him fuck you in the shower.

Your nose scrunches in muted embarrassment. “I wasn’t being that mean, was I?”

“No. I mean, you could certainly get meaner…” Eddie assures with a shake of his head, then grins as his fingers crawl up your ribcage. You fight back a shiver. “Which I think could be preferable from time to time.”

“So, you want me to be more… dominant?”

He shrugs a pale, freckled shoulder. “Yeah. Sometimes. I like watching you get all dumb for me, don’t get me wrong, but every time you get a little mean, I almost cum in my pants.”

The blatant confession makes you go slightly stupid. You just nod at him, lazy and unblinking. “Yeah. I can do that. You know, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want,” Eddie hums, matching your sloppy head shake. His nicotine-coated breath fans across your cheek. “Very, very much.”

“But not all the time, though, right?”

“No. Not all the time. Just… sometimes— when the moment’s right or whatever.”

“Sure…”

Eddie’s grin broadens when you trail off. A faraway look glazes over your eye. His brows raise expectantly. “What’s that look for?”

You blink rapidly as you descend from the clouds. Shaking your head, you dismiss him. “Nothing. Nothing— I just… I did kinda like not letting you come right away.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Eddie concurs, suddenly breathless.

Your gaze flits to his, mousy and twinkling. Your hands fidget above the covers. “And I kinda wanna try letting you cum and maybe… not stopping…”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. His mouth opens to respond, but he forgets how to speak. He barely remembers to breathe.

“Is that… Is that weird?” you ask, forcing a laugh at his unusual silence.

“No!” he blurts, sounding much louder in the honeyed quiet of his bedroom. “No, that’s… That’s really hot, actually. Like, really hot.”

He zones out just like you had. The imagery of it all makes his stomach whirl. He’s done it to you a number of times — brought you to the edge and kept on pushing you over until you pushed him away. But he’d never thought about ever doing it to himself till now. 

Actually, there’s quite a lot of things he’s done to you that he might enjoy himself if he thinks about it.

The thought alone opens a world of possibility in his wild, wild head.

“Can I tell you about something I was thinking about the other day?” he wonders suddenly.

Though slightly startled by the blurted question, you nod. “Of course.”

His gaze flits away from yours. His hand fidgets at your waist, fingers softly scratching at your burning skin. “You know my handcuffs? The ones I clip on my jeans sometimes?”

Again, you nod.

“Well, I— I have the keys, you know? So it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we— you know— if we used them…”

“On me?” you press, brows pinched in distant concern.

Eddie shakes his head immediately. “No. I know you don’t like that.”

“So… on you?”

“Yeah. Maybe. If you want,” the boy mumbles, suddenly shy in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times — including earlier, when he was begging to cum in your mouth. “I just think it could be cool, you know? Like, you could tie me up and just… use me. If you want,” he repeats.

“Use you?” you repeat with a soft laugh.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t— I don’t really care about getting off as much as I care about you getting off, you know? I just… wanna take care of you. Want you to take what you want.”

You open your mouth to respond only to find that all words have lost meaning. Your brain is a jumbled mess of alphabet soup. So you just nod, dumb at the very thought.

Eddie’s hand rises from the covers. His palm settles warm at your jaw. His fingers smell faintly of sex as his calloused thumb smooths across your chapped lips. “You could, like, rub yourself on my cock. Get yourself off on top of me,” he murmurs lowly to you, a quiet and crooked grin pulling at his mouth. “Wouldn’t that be metal?”

“Yeah…” you answer with a sigh, getting lost in the daydream right along with him. “Wouldn’t put you inside me at first, either. Not until you’re begging for it.”

His smile widens. “Exactly.”

“Then I’ll ride you until you make me cum.”

Eddie nods, egging you on. He tucks his face into your neck, if only to conceal how ardently he’s blushing. He hides his pink cheeks between your jaw and shoulder and kisses you where he knows it’ll drive you crazy. 

“Mhmm?” he urges, muffled.

You sigh a faint moan. Your fingers curl in his wild hair. You press your lips to his temple and continue. “And I’ll let you come, too. Eventually… But I won’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he groans into your pulse.

“Not until you’ve filled me up three times—”

“Oh, fuck…”

You tug at his hair with a soft, stern touch you think you could learn to master for him. His lips click faintly when he parts from you. He blinks down at you with glassy chocolate eyes.

“Something like that?” you wonder, feigning innocence with a sweet-sounding lilt.

Eddie nods, sloppy and stupid. He stammers. “Yeah… Yeah. Some—Something like that.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 

Everything would be done if another city fell.  

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life. 

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 

Your face gains heat. 

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 

The doctor had explained that you���d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 

You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 

The man forces a weak huff. 

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon. 

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[moonastro]

groom persona chart

venus in the house

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

venus rules love, aesthetics and desires, it is the planet of beauty and is a benefic. in the GPC the planet signifies your husbands love language, their needs and wants and aesthetics that he may be interested in.

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

venus in 1st house: fs is the definition of love. will shower you with sweet talk, make you feel like a queen and the luckiest person in the world. can look beautiful and have a beautiful appearance and aura. fs can look aesthetically pleasing and can just display themselves as someone ethereal. this is a placement where they tend to be the jewel in the room it reminds me of a prince placement, people forget or don.t establish their flaws and are mesmerised by their charm and beauty. their love language can be to compliment on your looks and compliment you on your appearance, hair, make-up, jewellery and all that sorts of stuff. fs is very self aware and can be into small detail and self awareness however may do so in their mind and keep it to themselves. fs may crave attention though and may want to be praised by their looks and appearance considering their efforts maintaining their looks.

spouse can have natal venus in aries, 1st house, fire sign, fire house.

venus in 2nd house: fs is gracious with his words and is patient. he likes the more high end things in life and will make sure that you have the same experience with that. likes to spoil so your spouse can spend and love to spend money on people that they love. can be strict but only to the point where he may receive pleasure from his actions so spouse can be quite controlling at times. however, sometimes it can be for the best in order to get out of your comfort zone. spouses aesthetic can be laid back, an admirer and can be full of lust. whatever he has his eyes laid on he needs it in an instant, so he may approach you within your guys first meeting. can be quite sensual and a bit un bothered at times, they can have the mindset of everything will work out for me anyway so why worry kind of thing. since venus is in its own house, venus is comfortable and spouse may be very open and comfortable the idea and commitment of love, they see it as an opportunity for them and can also claim it to be a gift for them. spouse is very attentive to what you have to say to him, he memorises each detail that is said and makes it his best effort to use it to his advantage like for special events and whatnot.

spouse can have natal venus in taurus, 2nd house, earth sign, earth house.

venus in 3rd house: usually spouse can talk abruptly when they have interest in something they love. they tend to give lots of words of affirmation and can talk sweet nothings just so they can hold your attention to them that much more. has love and interest in academics and may be quite the study type. loves to learn new things and is a very quick learner. spouses aesthetic is quite the study type, loves to know the fact that he knows stuff that others may not. loves to be one of a kind, and loves to be special. spouse likes to be in his own space but values socialising just as much, they need others to recharge themselves. can think very precisely about things and be quite analytical and precise with their thoughts. love to follow schedules and have plans, this eases their mind and makes them be certain that that plan is still going on.

spouse can have natal venus in gemini, 3rd house, air sign, air house.

venus in 4th house: fs can be the non-dominant one but can try to reach the needs of their partner. even though if they dont agree with your views or opinions they will follow them just to make you happy and fell like you can trust them. traditional roles are important to them so most likely they will have traditional views of what should be done in the household but with that they will carry out their task and provide for their family and will not think otherwise about it. fs can have a firm mindset that family is the most important thing in the world. fs love language can be providing for their family and their loved ones. are interested in his family needs and is very loyal to his wife. fs aesthetics may be based on what they were brought up with as a child or most likely what they are most familiar with, they tend to dislike change and stick to one thing.

spouse can have natal venus in cancer, 4th house, water sign, water house.

venus in 5th house: spouse is a hopeless romantic and loves to tease their partner and be playful. this is them simply being themselves and being comfortable around you. spouse can attract great prosperity and luck in his life. may be gifted in many talents and hobbies and may even be interested in the entertainment industry. can be interested in music and the arts and can be really good at it also. the spouse aesthetic is relatable to a lot of people which can be the reason for their likeness. spouse can have many followers and many admirers themselves. they aren't the awkward type and will make everyone feel welcome in the presence of them, are extremely friendly to everyone also. spouse can have a particular interest in other people, they are curious of other peoples lives and lifestyles.

spouse can have natal venus in leo, 5th house, fire sign, fire house.

venus in 6th house: doing things and doing tasks for their significant other is very important. its even more important when they get praised for it as well because they will continue to do it and with contentment as well. they tend to love very practically and not take things overboard. they respect boundaries of their partner and can be invested in your day to day routine and life. can have a beautiful body and may really take their energy into taking care of his health which can include having healthy habits, eating balanced meals and having good physical activity. may dedicate his aesthetic towards his occupation and may spend most of his time and efforts trying his best at his work. spouses work place may be quite aesthetic and they spend most of their time there as well, could also have items in the workplace for convenience.

spouse can have natal venus in virgo, 6th house, earth sign, earth house.

venus in 7th house: spouse likes to be equal individuals in the relationship. they love it whenever them and their partner can share roles equally within their time together, it makes them have a sense of completeness. however, the spouse can be liked by his charm and balanced nature and can attract enemies that are jealous of how many admirers he may have. there's no good without the bad also it comes both ways. spouse loves to be on everyone's good side and can show their charm to win hearts of others. spouse may feel relieved knowing that others think highly of him. loves being friendly to people and loves it back from others. in romance, spouse can be quite the romantic since venus is in its own house. they love being commitment and love taking care of their partner with the extents of sharing moments that couples like to do. can romanticise dates and events that you guys will attend in order to make it that much memorable.

spouse can have natal venus in libra, 7th house, air sign, air house.

venus in 8th house: the fs can be so deeply in love that they can have no where to be attentive to but you. they feel very intensely and most of the time when you are making out your fs will have lots of willpower because they will most likely want to turn the make out session into something more. they will have to resist a lot. can have lots of intrusive and spicy thought about you. this image just came into my mind of them just staring at you and you noticing and calling them out on why they are staring, them saying nothing but in fact👀they were probably imagining the beyond lets just say. your fs can be full of surprises and can hide their affection from you very well so when he does something out of the blue it can leave you feeling confused. their aesthetic is full of mystery and and chill vibes, its really them teasing you as well. they can tend to do that pretend to not be interested when in fact they are just so you can chase them. they tend to crave s*x and sexual activity. this is the type though to keep in private until it is only the two of you. is the silent freaky type.

spouse can have natal venus in scorpio, 8th house, water sign, water house.

venus in 9th house: spouse requires attention in order to satisfy their love for you. may acquire random bursts of love for you at spontaneous times. they love to go and explore things they haven't yet experienced and love to go with their partner. they prefer to explore new places with their loved one by their side rather than by themselves. can be experienced in love matters and may be confident and know what to expect in relationships which will acquire them to be like a mentor within the relationship. the fs aesthetic is quite loving and prosperous, they give and dont expect to be given back. people trust what your spouse may say or do, he may be the type that is very reliant and people notice how gifted and talented he is.

spouse can have natal venus in sagittarius, 9th house, fire sign, fire house.

venus in 10th house: fs will have an acute sense of the world around them. they will have certain expectations of how the world can see them. can be quite precautious of what other people think. can be quite professional and mature when it comes to love. for example can be mature when conflict occurs and so forth and may establish sensible outcomes for problems within the relationship. spouse can handle professional matters very well and may be the one to act carefully when it comes to their profession. spouses aesthetic can be profession biased and may be serious about their authority. they dont like disappointment and making mistakes however in the end they realise that they are valuable lessons to which they take their time to reflect on. as a partner they are responsible and will take care of you very well. when in need of their help they like the fact that they are needed so will gladly help you out. can feel like they are responsible for you so will look out for you a lot.

spouse can have natal venus in capricorn, 10th house, earth sign, earth house.

venus in 11th house: fs can enjoy company of other people but know how to identify the ones that have caused them harm and they tend to stay as far away from them as possible. will go to great lengths to fulfil their needs and wants. can be interested in alliances if it benefits them so your fs can become friends with someone to help them forward. usually can have goals related to their outcomes in life that benefits them. since this house is the house of good spirit, spouses charms and personality may benefit them through many things. may not have many enemies unless afflicted or other placements show otherwise. in relationships, spouse is affectionate and cares about their partner, can give needed space for you and not cross any boundaries. will respect your views and decisions in addition to being a supportive husband overall, so expect him to be your no.1 fan.

spouse can have natal venus in aquarius, 11th house, air sign, air house.

venus in 12th house: spouse can be quite delusional at times but thats just the nature of them in order to make their situation and life that much better. they tend to make up situations in their head that never happened before and that confuses them if that occurrence has happened or not which can go two ways. its not bad at all, they are dreamers and manifesters, they may have manifested you or you could be the exact spitting image of the girl they have manifested. spouses aesthetic may be quite delusional, they may be influenced by their dreams and thoughts and may achieve great lengths because they can easily envision their future reality. spouse may love the idea of love but can be scared of actual commitment in fear of losing their freedom and routine. however, as a partner they will shower you with deep love that goes beyond the scale. they can experience things differently but can give you the world if he could. would go through great lengths to make you happy and may even displace their own happiness to fulfil yours.

spouse may have natal venus in pisces, 12th house, water sign, water house.

thank you so much for reading and supporting!!!

[saturnrings77]

intoducing sleazy!rafe

note: this was not supposed to be smutty. I got carried away 😭. i need more dialogue... HOW DO I ADD MEORE?!?!? I gave up at the end, im sorry

oh, how you ignored all his red flags just because he had a pretty face and striking blue eyes. you've come to regret it and there's not much you can do about it.

on your first date, rafe shows up half an hour late, in a wrinkled, orange polo shirt, high with a freshly rolled blunt behind his ear. there's remnants of white powder along the edge of his nostril. his hair is greasy, and you wish he had put more effort into his appearance with all the dirty stares you were receiving.

he lazily chuckles at god knows what. his pupils are blown and his eyes are lidded. he has to tilt his head slightly up to be able to see you.

"let's eat?" you're unsure at this point, hesitating to call up one of your friends fo an excuse. your friends warned you about this. did you listen? no. you didn't want to prove them wrong though, always seeing the best in people.

"yeah... yeah"

when you flip you hair over your shoulder he says "i wonder how many times it'll wrap around my wrist." you freeze.

you fight every nerve in your body to refrain from rolling your eyes. gosh, he was so high.

the whole date went by with him making crude remarks directed towards you and the alcohol you guys were getting served was not doing anything to help the situation. you were buzzed and horny.

his gaze kept dropping towards your glossy lips and chest accentuated perfectly by the silk dress you were wearing. with the way he was licking his lips and shifting in his seat, there was no way he was letting you go home without him.

you felt exposed with the way he was eye-fucking you and you felt all the more turned on, your nipples hardening and poking out through the thin fabric.

you, were no better. you mirrored his actions, eyes constantly flicking down towards his lips every time he licked them, suggestively taking food into your mouth and leaning down enough to expose as much flesh of your tips without flashing him your nipples. something about his nasally, rich kid voice had you hanging onto his every word.

"y'look sexy." rafe's licking his lips, undressing you with his eyes. you squirm in your sit at his gaze. "got such a beautiful little thing sitting in front of me."

he's hot, that's for sure. maybe, one night wouldn't hurt.

"wanna go back to mine?"

"mhm" the moment you affirm your answer, he throws a wad of cash on the table, grabs your bag and drags you out the restaurant. he's taking large steps, much to large for your stiletto clad feet. "rafe, slow down." he slows down and looks back at you, before he starts walking towards you and throws you over his shoulder.

you squeal and he gives your ass a firm slap making you yelp. "what a slut. y'ass is basically hanging out." you gasp at the delicious sting on your cheek. "fuck, I don't think I can wait." he hissed as his truck came into view.

unlocking his truck, he pushes you into the back-seat, grateful for his illegally tinted windows. and then his lips are on yours.

he's everywhere, all at once. hands grabbing whatever he can, wherever he can. thighs, cheeks, ass, tits. he's groaning into your mouth, tongue pushing past your lips and fighting with yours.

short, heavy breaths fill the vehicle. your flushed with need. a needy moan leaves your lips as rafe starts undulating his hips into yours. your hands snake to his belt. "I need you." you whisper against his mouth. he just hums and rolls his hips with more insistence into you, chasing his own pleasure. he clasps both your hand between his and puts them above you while his other hand continues groping your tits.

he trails his kisses down to your shoulder, nipping and sucking along the way. a particularly harsh suck has you hissing, knowing it would leave a mark. he bites the strap of your dress, pulling it down your shoulder. he does the same to the other side, his hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it down.

your panties are drenched, sticking to you like a second skin. the friction of rafe's tip underneath his jeans, rubbing against your clit has you mewling in pleasure.

"I'm gonna cum" he snaps out of his horny daze and stops moving. he pulls his lips back but attempt to chase after him yet you fail. there's a string of saliva connecting the both of you together.

rafe fumbles with the buckle of his belt and leans over to open the centre console. he pulls out a condom, putting the edge of the wrapper between his teeth and tugging to rip the foil open while pulling himself out his boxers. you pull your own panties off, chucking them at rafe's face.

he rubs his tip along your folds before pushing in all the way. rafe looks at you to find you already staring up at him with doe eyes and your bottom lip between your teeth. a nod from you, and a roll of your hips is all he needs before he starts pumping in and out of you. fast.

it's not long before you hear the squelch of your pussy and the sound of skin slapping. "fuck. y'feel s'good, baby," rafe grunts out. a desperate, whimper escapes from your lips at his praise and you wall flutters around his thick cock. "y'like that, don't you?"

you let out a needy whine. "more." rafe flips the two of you over so that you're straddling him. one hand gripping your hip, the other grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts fucking up into you.

rafe's focus goes down to your tits and the way they jiggle every time he slams his hips into yours. he brings his mouth down and starts sucking on your nipple and you choke on a moan.

he brings one hand down to your clit and starts rubbing, listening to the way you let out an unrestrained sob, the pleasure becoming too much.

"w-wait" you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach and squeeze if your pussy, trying your best to push yourself away.

"y'bout to come, hm?" you nod your head, getting a small, breathless "yes" out. "cum f'me, baby." you feel your body convulse as your orgasm washes over you, however, rafe keeps fucking into you chasing his high, finishing moments later.

[moonchildstyles]

First time sex with rosemary 🌿

wordcount: 9k

—————

Wiping her floured hands on her apron, (Y/N) brushed her hair out of her face with her wrist before reaching towards her back pocket for her vibrating phone. Her lips curled into a soft smile seeing Harry's name on her screen, his contact featuring a photo of him sleepy-eyed next to his kitten in her bed had her smile stretching wider. Taking a quick glance at the time, she was sure he'd just made it back to his apartment after finishing up at the grocery store. 

Quickly, she peeled her gloves from her hands and peeked out into the storefront of the bakery. Just as she had left it a handful of minutes before, there weren't any patrons now that the morning rush had passed, leaving Sabrina tucked behind the desk with her book folded open. 

"Hey, I'm going to take my fifteen really quick. Is that okay?" As soon as Sabrina gave her the go ahead with a wave of her hand with her eyes still stuck to her book, (Y/N) was answering the call with a tap of her thumb. "Harry?" she greeted, stepping out back of the bakery for a bit of privacy in the mid-morning air. 

"Hi, peach," he murmured through the receiver, voice drooping and soft, "Is it alright that I called you? I know you're still working, so." 

"Your timing was perfect, actually," she told him, knowing he was probably more worried than he was letting on for fear of having ruined her day, "Everything just cleared out from this morning, and I needed a break." 

"Yeah? Long shift already?" he pressed, the sound of sheets shuffling on the other side with a petite meow chirping through. 

"A little bit, yeah," she sighed, wishing she was wrapped up in warm sheets with Harry and Rosemary, "Just one of those Sunday morning shifts, you know. How was your night, though? Work was okay?" 

"Yeah," he said, the syllable floating out on a long suffering sigh, "Theo and Brett were still annoying, but I think Fawn is going to cover one of my shifts this week." 

(Y/N) immediately perked up at the new information. She'd been urging him to take some time off this past month; he didn't have to work himself to the bone anymore, not now that his issues from back home had been resolved. It was unhealthy, she'd told him more than once—he would make himself sick with more than just exhaustion if he wasn't careful. 

"Really? What day?" she bubbled off, ready and willing to shift her own schedule around if he wanted. 

"Thursday." 

She could hear the smile in his voice as he uttered the words. He knew what reaction he was going to get. 

"Are you serious?" she beamed, bouncing on the soles of her feet, "You have the whole weekend off then?" 

"I do, yeah. So do you." 

"Harry," she bleated, "I'm so excited! We haven't had any time together I feel like, and now we get a whole weekend! Thank you!" 

"That's what I was thinking when I made my request; barely seen you this past week. 'S not fair." 

"It's not," she affirmed, "You haven't even been able to sleep over since Friday. I'm not used to that." 

"Me neither, peach," he murmured, his tone decidedly more somber than just a moment before though she understood where he was coming from. 

Ever since their impromptu road trip, they tended to have as many sleepovers as their schedules would allow. Besides the comfort that came along with being at each other's side—especially in the case of Harry's frequent nightmares—, it was hard to forget how much they liked sharing a bed and sitting down for meals together. 

"Did you want to do anything special?" she prompted, already racking her brain for anything that Harry would enjoy leaving the house for. 

"I've got to go to the library at some point," he mused, another chirping meow sounding from the background prompting a huff of laughter to leave his lips, "But, other than that, I was hoping I could catch up on m'sleep." 

"We can do that," (Y/N) decided, shifting her view of the days off to turn into cozy sheets and breakfasts in bed, "A weekend long sleepover. We'll make a thing of it." 

"Yeah?" Harry asked, a smile audible in his tone—a vision that had (Y/N)'s chest warming. "How are we gonna do that?" 

She hummed, sifting through her ideas before landing on a few to share, "Probably movies if we have the attention span for it—if not, we can read together or something. We can do face masks too—Ooh, or I'll get another of that hair mask you like. Let me think, but I have some ideas." 

"'M sure y'do, peach," he murmured, his voice decidedly lower and slower than before, sleep vining around the edges of his words, "Whatever y'want, we'll do. I trust you." 

"I'll make sure we make a thing of it, H," she told him, reluctant to say her next words but knowing he needed to get as much sleep as he could manage, "I've got to get back to the ovens, but I'll text you when I'm off." 

"Yeah?" he mumbled, "Tell me when y'get home?" 

"You've got it," she smiled, feeling the winter sun warm on her cheeks, "Goodnight, H."

"Goodnight, peach." 

With that, (Y/N) ended the call. Hopefully, he would be able to sleep through the rest of her shift at least. He just needed to get through the next few days, then he'd have some time off to spend at her gingerbread house. 

The thought had that soft curl on her lips feeling permanent. She would have to remind him how proud she was that he was taking a couple of days off, the time well-deserved. 

Just like she said, she would make a thing of it, she only had to figure out what a thing for Harry looked like. 

—————

With Rosemary wriggling in his arms, Harry nearly fumbled his keys to the ground while on (Y/N)'s stoop. She was a calm little thing nearly any other time of the day, but as soon as they were at (Y/N)'s door, Rosie couldn't settle. 

Keeping his hold on her tight, he was able to finally stumble through the door before letting her spill out of his arms. Her feet pattered over the hardwood, beelining for the kitchen just as he knew she would. Harry could only shake his head as he kicked off his shoes by the door, setting them next to (Y/N)'s under the foyer table. He couldn't stay mad, though, especially not when he heard the familiar cooing of his peach filtering down the hall. 

"Where's your daddy, Rosie?" (Y/N) crooned, voice a soft murmur through the house, "We've got to talk to him about how hungry you are when you come over. Is he not giving you enough treats?"

Following the sound of her voice, Harry's lips curled instinctively into a soft smile when he spotted (Y/N) crouched next to his kitten, fingers massaging through her fur. There was a part of him that wanted to peer out the small window above her sink, ensuring no one was watching in—a part of him that he forcefully tamped down in favor of reveling in the sight of his stitched family. 

"You know I feed her," he drawled, leaning against the threshold of the entrance, "I don't know why she acts like this when we come over." 

It was the way (Y/N)'s features seemingly bloomed when she looked up at him. Her hand absently continued petting Rosemary, but it was clear all of her attention was splashed upon him. It was when her eyes were on him with nothing but adoration that had Harry happily anchored to the moment, warm and comfortable in his skin. He hoped he was able to make her feel that way when he looked at her. 

"Hey, H," she smiled, giving one last stroke to Rosie before she was standing to her feet and crossing the kitchen towards him, "I was going to ask you how work was, but you're on vacation." 

"I am, aren't I?" he mused, collecting her into his arms.

(Y/N) looped her arms around his neck while he hugged her around her middle, face cradled into the crook of her neck. His eyes fell closed reflexively, his chest expanding as he pulled in a deep breath. The sugary scent of her skin filled his lungs, her hair tickling his nose. 

"Are you excited?" she asked, trailing her fingers up and into his hair as she drew away. 

Matching her eyes, her question drifted away in favor of tipping forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. A giggled out his name against his mouth, muttering something about answering her, though Harry didn't pay it any mind. He focused on the give of her lips under his, the seam parting when she eventually melted into him. Her hands in his hair was a warming tether, keeping him from drifting out of her pastel kitchen. 

It was her that pulled away first, cutting off his indulgences earlier than he liked. He attempted to chase after her, craning his neck with puckered lips, though that only granted him a peal of her laughter fluttering between them. 

"Not in front of Rosie, H," she teased, unwrapping from his arms to move towards the stove where a warm oven and bubbling pan had gone unnoticed before. 

Harry stood back, watching as she stirred and tasted and adjusted, clicking on the light in her oven to take a peek inside. No matter how many times he'd offered to make dinner, take care of her meals—told her that he liked cooking, even—she had insisted that she wanted to take care of him, take one worry off of his plate. When she put it that way, he didn't feel like fighting with her. 

"She's seen worse, peach," he countered, leaning over the peninsula counter with his forearms flat on the surface. He had a perfect view into the domestic dream that was his (Y/N), complete with a bow in her hair despite the mess of a bun on the top of her head. 

A small laugh fell from her lips as she looked over her shoulder at him, "Maybe, but we shouldn't encourage it. Dinner's almost ready anyway, so we don't need to be distracted." 

"Yeah? What'd y'make?" He could see just the edges of something creamy in the pot she was stirring.

"Sabrina's family is visiting, and her dad gave me this recipe for stuffed shells with all this cheese and, like, spinach and stuff. I thought we'd try it out." She gave him a beaming smile when she finished whatever she was stirring, taking it off of the burner with the timer on the oven ticking down to less than two minutes. 

"That sounds really nice, love. Thank you. I've got dishes tonight." 

"Harry." A small scold—as expected.

"(Y/N)," he responded in the same arguing tone as she, "You're letting me—and my cat—stay here all weekend, 'm not letting us leave a mess here for you too. 'S alright." 

This was one of those things he didn't allow much room for argument on. It was one of those things—fear of feeling like a burden—that had come with the years on the run while attempting to ensure his impact was never felt. He was working on it, sure, but the least he could do for all of (Y/N)'s kindness was taking care of the dishes. 

"Okay," she relented, eyes rounding out as she looked up at him, "Just not tonight, though. I have something special for you after dinner." 

He did recall her saying something about making this weekend a thing for him, he just didn't really know what exactly that meant. "And, what's that?" 

A sheepish look crossed her face, softening her features and lining her eyes. "It's kind of silly, but I got some fun bath things and, like, candles and stuff. I wanted to make everything a little special tonight since it's your first extra, real day off in a long time." 

The longer she went on explaining herself, Harry could feel his own lips curling into a small smile. "Really?" he asked when she finally took a breath. 

"Yeah," she started, dropping her eyes from his, "But, you don't have to use them or anything if you don't want to. I know it might not really be your thing, and all." 

"Love," he crooned, the petname falling from his lips just for her to hear, "Thank you. That sounds really nice actually—don't remember the last time I took a bath like that. 'M always too worried about the water running cold." 

(Y/N)'s expression brightened at his words. "I'm excited for you to see all the stuff I got for you, then. But only after dinner—and dessert."

"Dessert?" 

"Of course dessert," (Y/N) smiled, moving back to the oven on the brink of beeping, "But that's a surprise." 

It was the way she looked at him before she gave her attention to the oven and baking pasta, how bubbly she seemed over something as simple as a surprise sweet for him to have at the end of the meal. That was what had him all but melting into the countertop. She could have fed him garbage and left him to soak in an ice bath and he'd be just as happy—all he needed was for her to keep looking at him like that. 

—————

"Are y'sure y'don't want me to do the dishes tonight?" 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling out of Harry's embrace to head towards the kitchen and the plates waiting by the sink. "Yes, I'm sure, H. I want you to relax this weekend, I don't mind doing a couple of plates." 

"But—" 

"No," (Y/N) cut him off, plugging the sink before beginning to fill the basin with soapy water, "As soon as I get this ready, we're going to my bathroom and I'm showing you all the stuff I got for you, and then you're going to not think about the kitchen again for the rest of the night." 

"I'm not?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at her insistence. Sometimes it was fun to argue with her for no other reason than he liked to see her put her foot down with a smoke to her gaze. 

He thought it was cute.

"Nope. Not even for a second." Amusement covered her own features by the time she cut the tap and turned to face him. "C'mon." 

With that, she flitted out of the kitchen with socked feet padding over the flooring. She didn't have to look back to know Harry was following. 

Tailing her through the house with his gaze carefully landing on the round of her hips as they swayed with her steps, she took him to her bathroom. There, on the counter, was a brown paper bag with a white painted logo on the front. A gifting ribbon had the handles tied together on top,  a tag with his name dangling from the tendril. 

In presentation, (Y/N) stood off to the side of the counter, a beaming smile on her face as she flourished her hands out. "Happy free weekend." 

"What's this, hm?" he hummed, stepping over the tile with his gaze narrowed teasingly in her direction. 

"Your bath stuff," she said, practically bouncing in her spot as he began reluctantly untying the bow. He wanted to keep it perfect—he couldn't remember the last time he received a gift, especially one like this. 

Harry could feel his eyes on her as he began digging through the bag. Floating on top were two powdery spheres, striped in alternating colors with dried flowers stamped inside. He settled them gently on the counter, his hands coming away with remnants of the sweet smelling dust. 

"They're bath bombs," (Y/N) piped up, "They're those things that dissolve in the water and make it colorful with all these nice skin things in them. The purple one is lavender and sage, and the blue one is lotus and jasmine."

Smiling at her explanation, he reached back inside the bag. A glass bottle filled with sweet smelling oil was his next find, the wax seal corking it closed having dripped its way down to the label. He could smell the warm, floral notes from here, even with the contents sealed away. Looking at the simple label wrapped around the thick of the bottle, he looked up at her with raised brows. 

"Massage oil?" 

It was the way she hesitated that had his lips stretching into a smile. "Its—I—It doesn't have to be used for that. It can just be a nice body oil if you want, but I... I mean if you want a massage, I could use that, so." 

So far, this was his favorite gift from her reaction alone. He settled it with a clink next to the bath bombs. "I'll keep that in mind." 

Next in line was a candle, standing tall in a cold glass voice in the bag. Pulling it out, the four wicks were sealed away with the help of the suctioned lid, showing off the marbling of the wax tucked inside. It was a swirling jade color, complete with lapping white streaks to emulate the gemstone. Under the just right light, he could see bursts of glitter suspended inside. The label boasted a vanilla sage scent, surely meant to match the sage bath bomb he'd picked up earlier. 

"Peach," he smiled, looking at his gifts spread out on the counter for him, "These are so nice, than—" 

"There's more," she bubbled, unable to contain herself this time, "At the bottom." 

He raised a brow but dug inside like she suggested. At the bottom, his fingertips brushed something smooth and flat. Getting his fingers around it, Harry already had a good idea of what he was pulling out, a smile spreading over his features and denting his cheeks with dimples. 

It was a book—one of his favorites from the library. One he had loved enough that he wished he had his own copy to keep him company—something he had told (Y/N). The cover was the black and white with splashes of red, the artwork glossier than what he had borrowed from the library. The spine was uncracked, kept in pristine condition—just the way he liked it.

"I know you've already read it, but I thought you might want to read a little again while you take your bath," (Y/N) mused at his side, her hands in a fumbling bundle before her. 

"(Y/N)," Harry sighed, looking up from his new, personal edition, "This is all wonderful, really. Thank you, so much." 

With his book still in hand, he collected her in his arms, tucking her against his chest. While he wasn't one hundred percent sure what all of the things he had received were, it was more than warming to think about her perusing a shop with him in mind, plucking things up with the intention of sharing them only with him. 

"I know it's all kind of silly, but I'm happy you like it," she murmured into his shoulder, the curl of her smile felt against the cuff. 

"'S not silly," he told her, drawing back just enough to get a look in her eyes, "I can't remember the last time anyone has done anything like this for me. I really like all of it, (Y/N). Thank you." 

Tipping his chin, he pressed his lips to hers, hoping she felt his words as much as she heard them. He felt eased when her lips molded into a soft smile. 

"I'm happy I could change that," she cemented, beginning to untangle himself from his hold, "I'll leave you to it, then. Take as long as you want, I'm just going to clean up and we'll go to bed—" 

"You're not staying with me?" 

How was he supposed to enjoy all of these trinkets and things without her there? What was the point of a sage candle and glittery bath bomb if she wasn't going to be indulging with him? 

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, one foot out of the bathroom. "Oh—um, no? I was going to go clean the kitchen and things, remember?" 

"Yeah, but," he started, watching to reach out and keep her on the tiled floor with him, "can y'do that later?" 

"Do you want me to?" was her simple response. 

Harry nodded. "Yeah." 

Her features were warm, taking a step back into the bathroom with him. "Then, I'll do it later." 

It didn't take long for their clothing to be shed, lying in a lumpy file on the floor with the tub filled to the brim with steaming water. Harry had chosen the lavender bomb to be placed in the water, (Y/N) all too excited to show him the magic of the fizzy powder. She had urged him to sink in first, her gaze following the lines of his body before she had gone after him. 

Harry wrapped his arms around her as she sunk into him, his chest to her back. The steaming water rippled around them, scenting the air with crisp lavender and warming sage. Every deep breath he took had the bunching in his muscles lessening and lessening until he was lax with (Y/N) in his hold. He could feel her every breath, the expanding of her chest that pressed back into him, the brush of her hair drifting through the surface of the water and tickling his skin, the careful way she had her hands laying atop his own where they were threaded over the soft of her stomach. It was easy for his eyes to shutter closed with his head tipping back against the rim of the tub. 

It was almost enough to keep him from acknowledging the curve of her body pressed against his cock.

Now wasn't the time though, he starkly reminded himself, taking in a deep breath of the calming lavender. She had wanted to relax with him, not get felt up with a dick pressing against her ass. 

"Do you like it?" 

The sound of (Y/N)'s crooned words had him blinking his eyes open. He wasn't even hard yet, how could she know that he was already talking himself down? 

"What?"

"The bath bomb," she laughed, oblivious, "You said you've never used one before, right?" 

"Oh," he sounded, exhaling finally, "Yeah. 'S nice—it smells really nice. I could fall asleep in here.”

Twisting in his arms, (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile over her shoulder. "I have before—I don't recommend." 

"Yeah?" he smiled, much more willing to focus on this anecdote than on the way the shifting of her body hit points on him he would have rather ignored for the time being. 

"Oh yeah," she cemented, shaking her head, "I only woke up when I felt water going up my nose 'cause I started slipping." 

Though she laughed off the remark, a frown settled on Harry's lips. "Y'almost drowned? (Y/N)..."

Her name came out as a scold, one that had her letting out another peal of laughter. "No, I didn't drown, H—" 

"You almost did," he pointed out. 

There were parts of him, traits that he gained during his years protecting his mother and sister, that were now woven into the fabric of his personality. Hearing (Y/N)'s story had that protective gene flaring up in him, urging him to hold her tighter, keep her at his side. He wouldn't let his mind wander to another version of events where she hadn't spasmed awake when the warm water touched her nose. 

His limbs became a warming cradle around her form, caging her to him lest the bathtub somehow raise tsunami waves and try to pull them apart. He pressed his lips to the back of her shoulder, speaking against the skin, "I don't like that." 

(Y/N) wiggled her hands underneath his, turning her palms up to match his own with her fingers threading between. "It's just a funny story, H. I'm fine—you know I don't take baths, like, ever, anyway." 

His brows pinched into a furrow. Sure, maybe he did know that. "Still," he grumbled.

Harry's petulance only served to draw another breath of laughter from her chest. 

She wriggled in his hold some, melting into him as she slid deeper into the water. The milky shaded water ripped around her, Harry keeping her close as she settled with her head resting against his shoulder. 

"I'm fine, Harry," she cemented, peeking up at him with an adoring smile on her features, "But, you're cute for worrying." 

Taking in a deep breath, he did nothing more than dropping another kiss to the cuff of her shoulder. He wasn't trying to be cute—he was protective. It was a part of his nature. 

Shuttering his eyes, Harry indulged himself and allowed his kissing to continue down her shoulder, only stopping when the lapping line of the water halted him. With his fingers laced between hers, he pulled her arm out of the pastel bath. He dotted his lips down the line of her limb, nose skimming her skin in his wake and raising goosebumps. A plume of laughter left his peach, the sound enough to have his own smile taking place as he fought to smear his lips over her skin. 

It wasn't until he was headed towards her wrist, landing on the soft underside of her arm that he slowed when he, through cracked eyes, spotted a slash that had made a home in her skin. It was small, though it looked only partially healed—still a warm red and slightly raised.

"What happened here?" he murmured, a pinch furrowing his brow. 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed dazedly, shuffling in his hold before spotting what had made him stop in the first place, "Oh, Rosie scratched me by accident." 

It was something so minor, completely mundane and curable. The scratch wouldn't even scar, and yet Harry still felt his shoulders deflate. He would have to remind Rosemary to be gentle with her mother—she was entirely too special, no need to have claws out when being held by her. 

He apologized for his cat with a small press of his lips to the cut. 

Under the cover of the pastel water, (Y/N) untangled her hand from his that was still laid against her stomach. He was left to feel the give of her plush skin under the pads of his fingertips while she carded her own through his hair. Though he attempted to continue the dotted affection of his kiss over her skin, he didn't stand much of a chance as he reveled under her touch. 

Maybe it was the brush of her nails against his scalp, or the slight give of her body under his hand, or just the fact that he could feel every line of her body against his own, but Harry felt his stomach tense then. It was minute and fleeting, but something he felt under the blocking muscles of his abdomen. 

He attempted to keep a lid on whatever that feeling could lead to by taking a deep breath, but that only reminded him of (Y/N)'s skin right under his nose and the fact that she had been the one to run him this bath and that was why she was naked, and warm, and wet, and pressed right against him, and that was why his hands were on her and—

"H?" 

Blinking his eyes open and drawing away from her, Harry looked up to match her wide eyes. "Hm?" 

There was something teasing on her expression, lighthearted in her eyes with a small tug edging on the corner of her mouth. "Are you okay? You weren't breathing for a second." 

"Oh," he sounded, mouth dry, "Sorry." 

She shook her head, murmuring something about him being funny or cute or something, but, admittedly, Harry didn't have an ear to lend at that moment as (Y/N) started moving around him. Wriggling out of his hold, Harry stayed still in the water as she maneuvered around until she deposited herself in his lap. Her thighs were spread to cushion his hips, her bottom settled on the thick of his thighs while her chest was flush against his. Only trickles of the lavender water were able to make their way between her breasts and the curves of her body, leaving her shimmering with the scented oil on her skin and suddenly warmer than the steaming water. 

Looking up at her, Harry took his time tracing the lines of her piled hair with the wet ends sticking to her skin, warm cheeks glowy and dewy, the soft light reflecting in her eyes from the candle she had lit and stationed behind their cuddled bodies. He felt breathless—reverent. 

It was never far from his mind just how deeply (Y/N) had impacted him. Without her, he never would have been knocked out of the daze that was his life—the cycle of never-ending loneliness and purposeless decisions. She had changed him in ways he was scared of, the ways that he had avoided for years because it was easier to stay the same. He didn't enjoy thinking of who he would be without her, where he would be. 

It was with that knowledge and the sight before him, that Harry wanted nothing more than to worship her and show her the purple that he had been given now that she was in his life. Religion wasn't anything that ever consoled him during his years on the run, but if the temples and altars had looked like her, the gods held her kind eyes and warming touch, he may have reconsidered. 

"You can touch me, you know." 

Dropping back to earth with a flutter of his eyes, he realized his hands were lax at his sides, careful to keep a distance from her skin. She had been the one to tie her arms around his neck, to keep their bodies close, while he had basked in the sight of her alone. 

"Sorry," he murmured, placing his palms on the full curve of her thighs. 

He skated them over her form, taking in the rounded edges of her body and warm skin. He'd touched her before, enough times to have mapped out every crook and groove, and yet, it still felt like the first time when he allowed him to feel. It would never get old knowing that he had someone like her that loved him enough to allow his hands to land on her. 

"Don't be sorry," she murmured, ducking her head until she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I just don't want you to feel like you can't touch me—I'm yours, H, remember?" 

There was that stirring again in his stomach, that tensing in his muscles that felt much deeper and lower than he would have liked during a relaxing cuddle with his girlfriend. It was just the reminder, that declaration that got to him just like it always did. 

(It was a bit embarrassing, in Harry's opinion. Would it always be this easy to work him up? Would (Y/N) always be able to say a handful of words, let his hands wander to her hips, and then he would be done for?) 

"You're mine," he sighed, sinking deeper into the water. 

It was (Y/N)'s turn then to trail her lips over his skin, the pillows of her lips never fully lifting from his skin before she was planting another kiss. She went on with the tip of her nose smushing against the line of his jaw as she worked down to the column of his throat. He could feel himself growing harder and harder with every kiss, every brush of his hands over her body, until he was sure (Y/N) was well aware as well. Though she made it abundantly clear she didn't mind when she rocked her hips against his, his cock pressed against his stomach and the soft core between her thighs. 

A shuddering exhale caved his chest. 

"I'm yours," she crooned, the heat of her words fanning over his heated skin.

Her own arms wrapped around his neck began to drift, leaving only one tangled in the waves of his hair with the blunt of her nails tracing his scalp. Her touch skated down the length of his chest, her eyes settling into a daze as they followed the journey of her hand until it disappeared under the water. His abdomen jumped under her hand the lower she went until the heel of her palm grazed the plumped head of his cock.

He couldn't help the way he tossed his head back, leaning into the palm of her hand. His voice came out in a breath, "I want you so bad, peach, I'm so sorry." 

(Y/N) drew away just enough to match his eyes, her wandering hand settling against the middle of his chest. "Why are you sorry?" she asked with amusement in her eyes, a soft smile on her lips as she shook her head, "You don't have to be sorry." 

"Jus'" he started, focusing on the sight of her as opposed to the weight of her form and warmth of her skin against him, "I don't... Don't want to ruin tonight since you're already doing so much, and you're only trying to relax and 'm reacting like this and—" 

She cut him off with her lips pressing against his, the edges of her mouth unable to fall in line with her kiss as she fought back a smile. "Do you think I don't want you, too, right now? If I didn't, I wouldn't be climbing all over you, H—or trying to get you to take me back to my room." 

Shifting on his lap once more, (Y/N) emphasized her point with a small roll of her hips against him, her warmth grazing over his length. 

His hands on her waist tensed, denting into her flesh with stern fingertips. Was she asking for what he hoped—what he'd been wanting but was too fearful to ask for in worry of pushing her?

His mouth felt dry as he took in her features, watching as something heated lingered in her irises. "A-Are y'sure?" he mumbled, unwilling to misread the conversation. (Y/N) loved taking care of him, he never wanted her to think he was intending to take advantage of that. 

Carding her fingers through his hair, the tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips to run along the seam. "I've really missed you, H. It's not always enough just to call you before I fall asleep, you know. It's not the same as actually having you." 

A spark pinged in his chest at her words, the memories they dredged up. A couple of times over the last week with his busy schedule, they'd spent some extra time on the phone before (Y/N) fell asleep for the night and Harry worked through an especially long shift. He knew exactly what she meant: now that he knew what it was like to be touched by her, his own hand, his own fantasies paled so starkly in comparison it was almost embarrassing. 

"I can take care of you, peach. 'M sorry I haven't been doing m'job, but I'll make it up to you," he crooned, tipping his head in hopes of pulling her in for a kiss, "Y'want m'mouth or m'fingers, love?" 

It was only when she shook her head that he paused. That hand trapped between their bodies made a deliberate graze down his body until she skated her fingertips over his length, the ruddy head twitching over her touch. "I want you," she corrected, "Don't you want to fuck me?" 

Maybe it was the fact she rarely cursed, or just how intensely she was meeting his eyes, or the feel of her grabbing his cock, but Harry could have blown it all right then. His throat felt thick as he attempted to swallow down the moan building in his chest. His eyes were hooded, a vignette forming around his view of her. 

It would be so easy to sink inside her, split open her walls and make a home between them. All he needed was to shift his hips just right, and then he would be taking advantage of her spread legs and the slick around them. But, his worry of disappointing her—leaving her unsatisfied—held him back. 

His mouth felt dry by the time he found his voice. "I—um—(Y/N)," he started, unsure of how exactly to divulge the information in him, "'S been a while since I've—..." 

He wasn't sure what he was expecting her reaction to be, but he gladly took the small kiss she offered him, sealing his lips to hers. "How long?" 

"Since before everything," he sighed, allowing himself to sink into her kiss and the brush of her mouth against his, "I don't want to... leave y'unsatisfied if 'm not... good." 

That had her lips curling against his, a cluster of small kisses being pressed to the full of his lips before she pulled away. "It's going to be good before it's you, H. I'm not worried—I love you, remember?" 

Was it normal for him to feel his cock pulse at her declaration? Or was he really that easy? 

"I love you, too," he slurred before taking her mouth against his once more. It was messy and heavy, clumsy and unsure, but he didn't care. "I want to fuck you so bad, peach. Can I?" 

All it took was a soft nod of her head before he had his arms lacing underneath the thick of her thighs with the water splashing around the tub. He held her tight, grip stern as he stood tall in the pastel water. (Y/N) let out a bubbling laugh, clinging to him with a gasp as if he would ever drop her. 

With her pressed tightly to his chest, his cock was now fit snugly between the planes of his abdomen and the soft folds between her legs. Water sluiced down his form, a chill befalling his skin now that they'd left the steaming pool behind, though that had no effect on just how hard he was for his peach. 

"We didn't have to right away," (Y/N) laughed, fingers denting the broad of his shoulders, "If you weren't done—" 

"'M done," he cemented, dropping her onto the bounce of her mattress with only a small amount of guilt at getting so much water on her sheets. He'd change them for her later. "You're m'favorite way to relax, peach—don't need all the rest." 

Laid on the center of her bed with her skin gleaming and warm, scented so sweetly from their bath, Harry had a new level of respect for his self-control. But, that was in the past now, left in the bathroom along with the droplets of water on the floor and the candle he would have to remember to blow out before they fell asleep. 

Crawling on the mattress with his cock heavy between his legs, he fit his body between her spread legs, reveling in the plush of her thighs on either side of his hips. (Y/N) reached for him on instinct, looping her arms around his neck with the curls on the back of his neck dampening against her skin. 

"Hi, you," she murmured, a bubbly smile on her lips as if she hadn't just asked him to fuck her a moment ago. 

He could only shake his head, dropping a kiss to the bridge of her nose as he situated himself above him with his forearms stationed on either side of her head. "Hi, peach. What are you up to, hm?" 

"Nothing much," she laughed, hitching a thigh over his lip in a languid move to thrust him forwards. "You?" 

Harry's voice was stilted in his throat, feeling her slick folds give around his cock when his length split through. He could feel the minute pulsing of her clit against his base. "Jus' worried 'm not gonna last very long at all, nothing important," he attempted to joke, if only to feel of plume of her laughter fill the air. 

Instead, he garnered a smearing of (Y/N)'s lips against his own, her affection tender and lingering. "Don't worry about that," she urged him, "I don't care—I just want you to feel good." 

A furrow pinched his brow, his heart rattling when she rocked her hips underneath him as if it wasn't already hard enough to concentrate. "But, I want y'to feel good too, and—" 

"I will as long as you do," she reiterated, amusement sparking in her blown pupils, "I don't care if you finish early, just finish in me, that's all I ask." 

Harry couldn't contain the moan in his throat, the rumbling falling from his throat as he rested his forehead against hers with shuttered eyes. He could feel a bead of warm precum blurting from his tip, dripping to land on the soft of (Y/N)'s stomach with a pulse. 

"You're going to kill me," he murmured, not sure if he was speaking for her to hear, "D-Do y'need me to do anything f—" 

Cutting him off with a kiss, (Y/N) slipped her tongue between his lips only to offer a quick taste before she was pulling away once more. "You can feel how wet I am, right?" 

As if he could forget with the way she was pressed against the underside of his cock, the ridge of his head tight between their stomachs. He answered with a small nod. 

"Y-You're sure, then?" he murmured, attempting to tap into that self control he had back in the tub. 

"I want you, H," she assured, nothing teasing or urgent in her voice, only sincerity, "As long as you're ready, I am, too. It's just me—you don't have to worry." 

His only response came in the form of a small kiss and a declaration: "I love you, (Y/N)." 

"I love you too," she smiled into his kiss, a small roll of her hips turning his brain to mush. 

His breathing was strained as he reached between their bodies, his fist wrapping around his shaft. Looking down, he watched as she spread her thighs that much wider as he swiped his cock between her folds. She was sticky and wet, clinging to the width of him as he split her open enough for his head to kiss her clit. He could see the jump of her muscles, the small whine that chirped from her lips, but he couldn't seem to stop himself—especially when a thread of her slick stuck to him, only bowing and breaking when he reached his cock towards his stomach, too far for the string to extend. 

"Harry, please," she quietly pleaded with him.

The sound of her voice was just enough to knock him back into the universe. It was enough to remind him that this wasn't the main event, there was even more warmth and wetness to be explored. 

Pressing the tip of his cock to her opening, he held himself steady as he pressed his hips forward. It was a tight squeeze, a feeling that took his breath away. As much as he wanted to catch (Y/N)'s expressions, see exactly what she looked like as he sunk inside her for the first time, he couldn't seem to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock fitting inside her core. With every stretch of his length pushing through, less and less coherent thought filtered through his head. 

Instead, all he could think about was the snug fit of her walls around him, the pulsing with every heartbeat, just how wet she was, the warmth that enveloped him and welcomed him deeper and deeper. By the time he bottomed out, his mouth had fallen into a gape and his arm propping him up was now shaky. His only anchor was the grip he moved to have on her hip, his palm slick and sticky from fisting his cock though he didn't have it in him to care. 

He really, really hoped (Y/N) meant it when she said she wouldn't mind if he blew it fast; he doubted he had much longer left, and he'd only just sunk inside. 

"Y'alright, peach?" he breathed, his words fanning across her skin when he finally looked up to reach her eyes. 

Looking at him with hooded eyes, the pupils wide, (Y/N) gave him her confirmation in the form of a jerky nod. "I'm okay," she mumbled, "Are you?" 

"'M good," he said, feeling drunk despite not a single drop of alcohol even being present in (Y/N)'s home, "'M so good, peach. 'M scared 'm too good." 

"It's okay," she smiled at him, if only a bit dazed when she threaded her fingers through his damp curls, "Just do whatever makes you feel good—that's enough for me." 

He wished he could have told her how much her affection meant to him, how he couldn't believe she loved him the way she did, how there was no one who had such an effect on him, but there was no way his tongue was going to follow any kind of command let alone any train of thought to actually form. Instead, he settled for a searing kiss against her already swollen lips. 

Though he doubted he would have any chance at composure, he still attempted to catch his breath and his brain before he reared his hips back for the first time. Pulling out of her warm channel was enough to add some form of clarity to his mind, though it didn't last long before he pushed forward in a shallow thrust. Her walls welcomed him in once more, warm and snug with every ridge forming around him in a pulse. (Y/N)'s thighs tensed around his hips, a slight tremor to her muscles though she managed to let out a sigh of pleasure against his kiss. 

"Fuck, peach," he murmured when he bottomed out once more, the crown of his length tapping her furthest walls. 

A furrow had his brows pinched though his eyes remained closed, even when he couldn't manage to kiss her anymore, his lips simply resting against her own parted ones. He shared panted breaths with her, his forehead resting on her own with (Y/N)'s fingers curling in his hair. 

Though the pace was slow, he was able to curate a rhythm that kept him from finishing right away. He didn't feel too far from the edge, but this was as good of a chance as he was going to get when she felt as good as she did. 

"H-Harry," she whined, her voice breathy and airy, "You're so big." 

His hips stuttered at her words, the previously shallow thrust he was working on turning into a harsh grind against her core. The jolt had another moan rumbling her chest with a curse falling from Harry's lips. 

"Y'can't say that, peach," he murmured, unable to keep his pacing, "You're gonna make me cum and we've barely started." 

Every stroke was indulgent, lingering when he wanted, harsh and deep when he changed his mind, anything and everything to his taste. His only chance was in moving his hand from her hip and shaky positioning it between his punishing hips and her forgiving core. At the apex of her folds, her clit pearled. Though his hand was shaky, he still managed to smear the pad of his thumb against the bud, feeling the budding pulse that matched the hammering of her heart. 

Suddenly coming to light, (Y/N) managed to bring him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and clumsy, leaving their lips swollen and teeth glancing off one another, but there wasn't any room for perfection. 

Harry needed her, that was all he knew. His stomach tightened with every thrust, his balls shining with her slick with every slap against her ass. (Y/N)'s thighs were warm and tight on either side of his pelvis, unwilling to let him venture too far before accepting him back inside. 

"(Y/N)," he panted, shaking his head, "P-Peach, 'm so sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, do—shit—don't be sorry, H. I want you to cum, okay? Cum in me, please." 

How was he supposed to deny her? What kind of boyfriend would he be if he said no to such pretty words?

Keeping his thumb running circles around her swollen clit, Harry couldn't stop himself before harshly thrusting inside her and pausing when he felt the first spasm wrack through his abdomen. There was a bunch to his muscles he hadn't even realized until the thread keeping them together snapped. 

Ropes of his cum spurted out, decorating and flooding her walls with every pulse. She grew impossibly wet around him, his thumb barely keeping track as he tried to tend to her clit even through the tremors. He ground his hips against hers, unwilling to draw away even an inch out of her warmth as he came.

The world slowly came back into focus as he pulled in puffs of air, (Y/N) delicately kissing his bottom lip. He felt so hot, sticky despite the bath he'd just soaked in. 

Was sex always like this? He couldn't recall ever coming this hard, but had it been too long for him to remember? Or was this another (Y/N)-only thing? He could readily believe that highs like this only came from being in her arms. 

"Still with me?" his peach murmured, a wanton edge to her voice that reminded him that there were much more important things than his own pleasure. 

He nodded, finally reciprocating her kiss. "'M here, peach. I've got you."

Despite the oversensitivity beginning to leak into his system, he managed to grind into her just enough to match the swirling of his thumb against her clit. She gasped into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue past her lips and sweep over her own. He got a taste of her pleasured moans, reveling in the feel until it seemingly became too much for her. 

In a way he was now familiar with, (Y/N) let out a chirping moan, delicate and shaky into his mouth. That was the first sign before her fingers in his hair began to tug at the roots in a stinging pull, and toes curled. Her pussy clung to the shape of his cock, his cum overflowing around himself and dripping down to the bed under her ass as she gushed around him. His oversensitivity had him crying out a call of her name, her pulsing walls almost too hot to handle as she came around him. 

He could have done this all night, Harry decided. He could have pet his fingers over her clit and pressed into her walls for hours if not for the fact that they were both beginning to see the less than favorable side of sensitivity. 

"'M gonna pull out, okay?" he panted, blinking his eyes open to find his (Y/N)'s still shuttered. She answered in a quiet nod, her lips parted as she breathed. 

Though it was a bit reluctant, he drew his hips back in a slow glide. His softening cock slipped out with a wet sound as (Y/N) unfurled her legs from around him. A small whine left her lips, but she didn't stop him, only clinging to him.

Settling in bed beside her, reaching for one of the pillows stationed at the head of the bed, Harry fixed it under their heads. (Y/N) instinctively rolled to face him, sharing the cushion with him. He gave her time as she came down, brushing his fingers through her hair and over the planes of her features until she managed to crack her eyes open. 

"Hi, you," he smiled, repeating her small tease from earlier. 

A plume of laughter fell from her lips, a slight smile forming on her kiss-swollen lips. "Hi. What are you up to?" 

"Nothing. Jus' looking at you." 

"Nothing important then, I see," she laughed, snuggling closer to him until Harry was collecting her into his arms with her head tucked into his neck.

"Very important, actually," he corrected, amusement draining from his tone, "Thank you, peach. Really." 

"You don't have to thank me, H," she countered, "I obviously got my own benefits out of this, so don't think I just did this for you." 

He knew she was trying to play with him, get him to loosen up, but he wasn't in the mood for that just yet. He was a touch too sentimental at the moment. 

"You know what I mean," he murmured, planting a kiss to the top of her head, "I jus' love you, and... always means a lot when y'trust me, and let me be with you. Thank you." 

"I love you, too, Harry," she reciprocated, her own arms giving him a pulsing hug, "It's easy to trust you, really. I wouldn't want to have these kinds of moments with anyone else—you're the best thing that ever happened to me, honey." 

Though he knew they needed to change her bedding, and blow out the candle in the bathroom, get (Y/N) cleaned up, and mop up the bathroom, Harry couldn't find any good reason to extract himself from her arms. 

There would never be a good enough reason that came above being with her like this. 

—————

ahhhhh! thank u sm for reading and to whoever requested this! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any fun ideas or requests of your own please send them in!! if you want to read more, you can check my patreon page:)

[moonknightsonata]

Acts of Service

pairing: moon system x reader, marc x reader centered

summary: You learn Steven and Jake’s love languages quickly, Marc’s takes a little longer to realize but it doesn’t surprise you.

cw: not many, a brief non-explicit mention of sex, Marc getting anxious about your relationship

wc: 1199

a/n: Happy new year! This is not beta read, my first time writing for the moon boys and also my first time posting and sharing a fic in probably like 5+ years. Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings, and let me know what you think! I tried keeping the reader as inclusive as I could, but please let me know if I slipped up with anything.

—

When you first started seeing the system, they all showed affection in similar ways. Holding hands, chaste kisses, flowers at the start of dates and walking you home at the end of them. They each had their own ways of going about it, but at the start all 3 of them were stereotypical in their affection.

Now, months later, you could easily tell each of the boy’s love languages.

Steven fluttered between quality time and words of affirmation. He was a romantic at heart, so in reality, he would do anything you asked of him, really. But you could tell he was happiest just being near you, telling you how much he loved you, and hearing the words in return.

Date night with Steven would be art galleries, museum tours, site seeing, or just walking around the markets hand in hand. Cafe’s and bookshops for rainy days, which there were plenty of in London, filled weekends with him where you could just sit in each other’s company and read besides one another.

Jake was the master of physical touch. You think it’s because he didn’t have as much time fronting as the other two, and his only physical touch with humans up until the three started getting along was when he took over the body in emergencies like in Cairo. When Jake was fronting, his hands were always on you.

Jake always had his arm on you when in public. Around your shoulder, or on your waist, he didn’t have a preference as long as he had you in his arm in some way. You liked to compare him to a livestock dog. Not like sheepdogs who herded them, but like a pyrenees that would fight a wolf off a lamb.

He was also the most handsy in the bedroom.

Marc took the longest to pinpoint his love language. Mostly due to the fact that he was the last to open up to a relationship with you.

You had met Steven first, dated Steven first, and then met Jake and Marc along the way. The relationship with Jake blossomed easily, but Marc still had walls he had built standing steady, that he wasn’t ready to break down yet. For a while even, you weren’t sure he liked you. After anxieties about it were aired out, Marc reassured you he did like you, he was “just shit at showing it” as he had put it. He hadn’t wanted to get close, mess things up with you and risk everything Steven and Jake had with you. That was the turning point for you and Marc’s relationship.

You thought it was behind you, until you noticed Marc’s odd behavior one day.

“Marc, baby, are you alright?” You asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter as he washed dishes.

“Hm?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, nodding as he kept his attention mostly on the pan he was scrubbing. “Yea, fine, why’d you ask?”

“Because you’ve been scrubbing that pan for about 10 minutes now. I think it’s clean.” You smiled softly, as his brow scrunched when he realized.

“Fine… yeah. I just… you know I love you?” He finished his sentence more like a question.

“Of course I know. I love you too.” You moved closer to him, putting a hand on his cheek to look him in the eyes. “What brought this about?”

“I don’t… I don’t say it enough. When we met you weren’t even sure I liked you, and now I don’t even say I love you as often as Jake or Steven do. So I just…” Marc lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand to his hair, pushing his curls out of his face as he steps away from you. You give him his space, you know when he needs it. To work out emotions without feeling suffocated or closed in.

“Just thought maybe you weren’t sure again.”

Marc avoids looking directly at your face as you look at his. You understand him, more than you probably know, which scares Marc. Not in a bad way, but scares him in a way he can’t believe there was someone out there who could.

Which is why what you say shouldn’t surprise him, but it does anyway.

“You don’t have to say it in the same way Steven or Jake do for me to know.” You start softly. “You have a different way of showing it, than they do.”

Marc’s eyebrows furrow, even more than the wrinkled brow he usually has.

He can only describe the look on your face that you give him as adoring, as you continue.

“The days that you front, you’re always up before me. Whether you’re an early riser or you never really fell asleep that night - you know exactly how to make my coffee in the morning and I always wake up to a cup made the way I like sitting on the counter waiting for me.

“I also know that it isn’t Jake who had my car’s oil changed, or the tires rotated a couple weeks ago.”

Marc shrugs at that one, mumbles something that you think is “That’s not a big deal.”

As you tell him all this, you can’t believe it took you this long to realize that Marc’s love language was acts of service. Because of course it was. Marc, the giver. Marc, who always felt he needed to prove his worth and make up for sins of his past, by any means necessary. Your Marc, who did so much for you without expecting a ‘thank you’ because that was how he showed he cared.

You kept going with more examples.

“Last week I forgot my umbrella and my lunch in the apartment and you came all the way to my job to drop them off for me.” You wrap your arms around Marc’s waist at this, resting your head against him in a hug.

“Or, when it’s cold, you always turn my heated blanket on the bed while I’m doing my night time routine, so that the bed is nice and warm by the time I climb in. And when -“ You could keep going, listing the things you notice Marc does for you, but he stops you with flushed cheeks.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I do a lot for you.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully as he wraps his arms around you to return the hug. “I like taking care of you.”

“You take care of me because you love me.”

Marc nods, kissing your forehead. “Yeah, I do. I’m just sorry I don’t say it more.”

“I don’t need you to. It’s nice to hear, but I still know it. You show me every day.” You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss, which Marc gratefully returns.

“And I’ll continue to show you every day, until you get tired of me.”

“I’d never get tired of you, baby. You, Jake and Steven are all stuck with me.”

Marc laughs. “Stuck with you? Making it sound like that’s a bad thing. Honey, I think you’re the one ‘stuck’ with the three of us.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[kiddiesmores]

“𝟖𝟔 𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐢-𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐢!”

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s your first day on the job out of training, you’ve never been so nervous in your life! You finally met the big boss that everyone is saying the be weary of but he doesn’t seem to be as scary as everyone says he is…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Harmless flirting, Whole lotta swearing, Yelling customers.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.8k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞: SHES HEEERREEEE!! Pls enjoy as I try and bring my vision to life! Feedback is welcome but don’t be rude, I argue back. Enjoy!

“Psst…psst…YN!”

You shoot up, looking around in a hurry for a sign of danger. “What! What- Huh? Brooke? What is it? Is something on fire? IS THE DOG OKAY?” You question, grabbing your roommate's arm in fear. She laughs at you, shaking her head as she points to your phone, “Your alarm has been going on for 5 minutes, don’t you start your new job today?”

Your eyes widen, grabbing your phone and staring at the time. ‘9:30am’ it reads, making you gasp and jump out of bed. “SHIT SHIT SHIT, I'M GONNA BE LATE! '' you shout as you rush to the bathroom, your uniform neatly folded on the counter as if you’re going to your first day of school. Brooke follows you into the bathroom, watching you as you quickly brush your teeth.

“Did you still need me to drive you?” She asks, fixing her hair in the mirror. You nod quickly as you scrape your tongue, spitting out the gunk and shoving her out so you can change.

You make sure your hair is neat and tidy, fiddling with the shorts and collard black shirt that hosts the “CHOPS BAR N GRILL” name and logo in the right corner, your name tag taking its place on the left.

You let out a sigh, the nerves of starting a new job sending tingles across your body. “I’m cool, I’m cool! Everything’s gonna be fine- and i’m gonna make so much money-“

“9:45 AND WE LIVE 10 MINUTES AWAY LETS GOOOO” Your roommate calls out. You quickly shut off your lights, sprinting around the room looking for your bag.

“BROOKE MY BAG”

“I GRABBED IT ALREADY”

“AND MY PHONE?”

“IN MY HAND”

You speed walk to the living room, slipping on your work shoes and kissing your roommate on the cheek, “I love you.” She waves you off, “I know.”

The ride there was smooth, Brooke playing old 2000s songs so you can jam out and not think about how nervous you were about your first day. She was the reason you secured this new job, her boyfriend being one of the line cooks and all. He put in a good word for you with the owner as they’re extremely close, making your interview process very simple. You have to tell her to kiss Charlie on the lip real good for you for this one.

As you pull into the parking lot, a wave of anxiety rushes over you, but she’s a step ahead of you.

Hands on your shoulders you stare at your bestfriend/roommate. “Repeat after me, and close your eyes.” She states and you listen.

“You’re gonna make a lot of money.”

“I’m gonna make a lot of money.”

“You’re hot and sexy”

You laugh a bit, “I’m hot and sexy”

Her thumbs stroke your shoulders comfortingly, “You’re gonna have the best day. You made it through the training week just fine, it’s just time for the real thing! Plus, Charlie is there so you’ll have him there for help. I will literally pull right back the fuck up if anything happens.”

You nod, putting a hand over hers as you let out another sigh. You force your knee to stop bouncing, nodding affirmatively and letting out a “Thank you” before grabbing your bag and hopping out the car. You walk with purpose to the front doors, opening it and saying a hello to the hosts who greet you with big smiles. They wish you good luck as you make your way to the kitchen which you reciprocate with a thank you and a smile.

You set your bag down in its designated spot, fixing your face in the mirror and putting aquaphor on your lips. A hand clasps your shoulder making you jump, “Who’s ready for their first day on the floor!” you hear. It’s one of your managers, Rosemary. She’s a really sweet lady, yall are close in age so it’s very easy to talk to her. You put a hand on your heart, “Damn it Rosie, you scared me..” you respond turning to her.

She laughs, “I know you’re nervous, but trust you’re gonna do great. You were amazing in training, and there will always be people to help you. Just ask okay?”

You nod again and she claps her hands together. “Perfect, let’s get you clocked in- good job getting here on time by the way! And there’s someone you need to meet before you start!”

Rosemary guides you to the office where you’re met with a man dressed in a black chef button up with the facial hair you can swear you’ve seen on the logo. His expression is hard to read. It’s grouchy- yet bored- but not angry? He’s sitting in the chair and looking at the computer, an excel spreadsheet on display, checking the inventory from the night before.

Rosemary knocks twice to get his attention and he mutters “What is it?” She smiles, “This is our new hire, Y/N. You didn’t get to meet her during interviews and training but I wanted to make sure you knew who they were before you bitch about seeing someone you don’t know on your line” She jokes. His head turns, looking you right in the eyes, you have to force yourself not to flinch.

“Y/N this is Jay! The owner, manager, executive chef. He’s usually here on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sunday mornings. Saturday night occasionally, so you’ll be seeing a lot of him against your will…” Rosie teases. You let out a nervous laugh, “Nice to meet you sir..”

You reach out a hand for him to shake which he takes, “Welcome to the team, and don’t call me Jay, she only calls me that to piss me off. Call me Schlatt. Have you ever served before?”

You nod, “Yes sir, this will be my second serving job.” He hums, “Good, so we don’t have to teach you to hold a tray or anything.” He stands up with a grunt, and you take him in more. He’s fucking tall, and b i g. You both seem to realize he’s still holding onto your hand and you laugh a bit as he retracts.

“All the advice I can give you is don’t fuck up, but I don’t think i’ll have to worry about that with you. I’ve heard good things, now if you excuse me.”

He gives Rosie a push on the shoulder and makes his exit. She squeals a bit, shaking your shoulders, “That’s the sweetest i’ve ever seen him! You’re so in!!”

Your head tilts, confused, “What do you mean? He seems nice enough..?”

Rosie’s face drops, “Y/N. Schlatt is TERRIFYING. You’re lucky we caught him before we actually opened, he’s a beast when he’s in that kitchen. Just make sure to handle your business so he doesn’t have to leave that line.”

You nod quickly, your head feeling dizzy from the amount of times you’ve done it today. The phone rings and Rosie excuses herself to answer it, asking a coworker of yours to show you the section you’ll have for the morning.

All you could think about his ‘words of encouragement’ he offered, ‘Don’t fuck up’. You were determined not to disappoint him.

“Y/N! You just got sat!” The host comes back to tell you, and you smile at her sweetly.

“Thank you!”

You look in the mirror, forcing a smile on your face and rehearsing your script in your head before turning the corner with a shout, “Corner!”, and heading to your first table of the day.

The morning runs smoothly, you only need to ask for help twice. Once when a lady asked if you could just sell her raw chicken that she could take home for herself to cook and again when a guy tried to buy a case of beer off of you guys so he didn’t have to go to the store. Only later to find out that they were together but just came in at separate times…

Other than that everything was going good. But alas, all good things have to come to an end.

While it was slow you stood at the host stand, joking around with them as you waited for your next table, greeting everyone that came in. An old couple walks in, the man sporting a flannel and a trucker hat and the old lady in a blouse and pearl necklace.

The hosts greet them while you smile. The hosts lead them to your section and you follow behind them.

“Hello! I’m Y/N i’m going to be taking care of yall today-“

“Who are you? We ain’t ever seen you here before.” The man interrupts.

You freeze, regaining your train of thought after the question threw you off script. “Oh! Yes haha, I’m new here! Today is my first day on the floor!”

“Oh isn’t that cute! You’re so precious, are they treating you right?” The woman asks, making your heart warm. “Yes ma’am, they are. Can I get yall started with some drinks?”

As she’s about to answer, her husband cuts her off again, “I don’t know how I feel about some fresh face serving me. Where’s Jessie? Usually we get her on these mornings.”

You blink slowly, is this guy serious?

“Jessie isn’t here today, but I promise I will take care of yall well! This isn’t my first time servin!” You joke, his wife laughs again.

“Well I will take a nice cold sweet tea and he will have a Tall Bud Light, dressed. And we already know what we want to eat. We come in here often!”

Great.

“Of course, what can I get for y'all today?”

You learn their names are Tim and Pam, watching as other servers go up to your table while you’re away and conversing with them.

Pam orders the chicken breast with a side salad with ranch and mash potatoes, while Tim orders a 8oz filet, medium with a loaded baked potato and green beans.

You double- No. Triple check to make sure everything is right before sending the food through. Now all you had to do was wait as you got them and your other tables refills on drinks.

The expo slides your tray to you, muttering a “You're up.”

You carry the tray out to your table, passing it out swiftly before asking if everything is alright. They say everything looks fine but as you turn to leave you hear a yell. “GOD DAMN IT- SEE PAM! THIS IS WHY I DON'T LIKE NEW PEOPLE. MY STEAK AINT COOKED RIGHT.”

Your blood runs cold, you swore you sent it in right? It’s impossible. “I’m so sorry sir, I can send it back-“

“GET ME SCHLATT” He shouts, making you flinch. You nod, rushing to the kitchen, hands trembling. The kitchen is busy, plates are being shoved up on the counter constantly and you can hear Schlatt bitching before you even turn the corner.

You take in a deep breath before putting your face in the kitchen window, “Um…Schlatt? My 411 wants to talk to you-“

“I’m fuckin busy, what is it they want? And why me for fucks sake, where’s rosie? ROSIE” he shouts. You take a step back, finding your voice. “He asked for you specifically, Tim? I think his name was..”

Schlatt lets out a loud groan, slapping his towel over his shoulder before barging through the kitchen doors. “Fuckin Tim, follow me. I’m gonna show you how to handle his ass so you don’t have to bother me again.”

As yall approach the table, you hear Pam trying to calm Tim down.

“Finally! Just the man I wanted to see, your new waitress over here is already causin’ problems! I said I wanted my steak medium well, this shit is damn near raw!”

You look at Schlatt as he stares blankly at the man, his jaw clenched. You swore the man said medium, and even so the steak looked perfect to you so you had no clue what had made him so mad.

“Damn it, Tim! You do this shit every time man, at some point I’m gonna tell them to stop servin ya entirely!”

Schlatt rubs his temples as you stare at him as he lectures the table in front of you, apparently this isn’t his first time bitching at the guy, and evidently it won’t be the last.

“This steak is fucking perfect, just because you don’t like new people doesn’t mean you interrupt MY day. I’m getting sick of you messin with my servers. My day’s already shitty enough. I should fuckin known, you never order your steaks medium well in the first place!” He rants, throwing his hands up in frustration.

He lets out a sigh, “I’ll comp the meal today, but tip your fuckin waitress and get the hell out, I ain’t dealin with this today. .” Schlatt storms to the other side of the store, leaving you to smile awkwardly at your table as Tim grumbles and pulls out his wallet as his wife rubs his shoulder.

You make your way to the POS system to watch Schlatt comp the meal on the computer, mumbling about how he doesn’t have time to deal with bullshit or whatever.

“Thank you for…setting him straight for me, I didn’t know we could talk to people like that.” You joke as he hands you their new receipt. He looks at you, eyebrow raised, “When I told them to hire you I thought I told them to make sure they have a backbone. Don’t let anybody give you any shit, you’re too sweet n’ pretty to be talked to like that.”

You nod dumbly, watching him go back to the kitchen with the towel over his shoulder, hearing his voice boom as he yells at whatever poor cook for fucking up Tims filet. Your stomach is full of butterflies, “He thinks I'm sweet and pretty?”

The rush is FINALLY over and they cut you for the afternoon. You quickly popped in your earbuds as you roll silverware and conversate with your coworkers in passing. Once you rolled the silverware count and finished your side work, you decide to go out for a smoke break before going to sweep your section for the shift change.

You grab the cardboard and slide it between the door to make sure you aren’t locked out, stepping outside for fresh air.

There, you see Schlatt, cigarette in mouth as he scrolls on his phone while sitting on one of the empty barrels. The only other flat surface is the barrel in front of him, and god knows you needed to sit down after running back and forth all afternoon. You let out a sigh and walked up to it, “This seat taken?” you joke as you sit.

He looks up, shaking his head. “It’s all yours.” he grumbles. You nod, taking your vape out of your apron and hitting it. He looks at the device in your hand, “Didn’t know you were a…Watermelon Ice Geekbar kinda person”

You laugh out loud, “Yeahh, trying to ween off though..” you joke back. You offer it to him, “Wanna try it, tastes better than your cigarette” He scoffs, “Yeah and fucks you up worse than one too.”

You smile at his jab, shaking your head and hitting it again. Yall sit in a comfortable silence for a while, letting the sun hit your face as you try to decompress from your day.

“So, minus Tim being a dick how was your shift?” He asks, ripping you out of your dazed state.

“Oh um- great! It was great, the tables were nice for the most part besides a few weirdos. Everyone was really helpful…” you respond sheepishly, toying with the vape in hand. “Thanks again for your help..” you mutter.

He grunts, “Good to hear. It’s no problem really, but you really need to start talkin back. Not like me, you’re nicer than I am I assume, but don’t let anybody walk all over you like that.”

You watch him ash out the cigarette before standing up to go back inside, but your heart is racing. “Can I ask you something?” You call out to him before he goes inside.

He turns to you, waiting for your question, “Earlier, you said I was ‘sweet n pretty’? What did you exactly mean by that?”

He looks you up and down a small smirk on his face, “You been thinkin about that all day huh?”

Tingles rush across your skin, embarrassed as he clocked you. “No-no! Of course not! Forget it, sorry..”

He laughs, and you can’t help but stare at him, smiling shyly.

“Don’t think too hard about it sweetheart,” he starts, opening the door to go inside.

Once he’s halfway in, he peeks his head back out,

“But i’d be lyin if I said I don’t find you very nice to look at.”

And with that he’s gone. Your mouth is left open, trying to process off you heard him correctly. That was definitely him flirting with you right?

The after work debrief with Brooke is going to go INSANE.

//taglist @invadermeweatsshart @ohgodthebogisback

[moonstruckme]

hi mae! i’m not sure if you’ve done this already but i was wondering you could write james x slytherin reader where she heard some things being said about her and was feeling angsty but james was there to comfort her! btw, i love your writing! <3

Thank you lovely!

cw: academic competition (plus some anxiety), reader is a bit mean to be honest which isn't me trying to shit on slytherins it's just how it came out

James Potter x slytherin!reader ♡ 750 words

There’s something wrong with you. James has been thwacking his wand against his book relentlessly for the past thirty minutes, and you’ve not done so much as cut a look his way. And he knows the jumper he gave you when you shivered is your least favorite (that, he would’ve avoided if all his others didn’t need to be washed), but you haven’t complained even once about how the knit itches against your skin. You’re only laid placidly on your stomach next to him on the bed, scribbling away at your notes with a familiar dent between your brows that seems yet deeper than usual. 

“Hey.” James bumps your shoulder with his lightly. “Have you started Slughorn’s essay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum distractedly. “Finished last night.” 

He grins. “Course you have. Any insights into what he meant by the second question? The wording’s stumped me.” 

You don’t even sigh reluctantly as you lean over to look at his parchment. James’ concern for you worsens. 

“I think he means that he wants us to theorize about a potential mixture by using our knowledge about existing ones.” 

“Ahh, I see.” James thought the same thing, but it never hurt anyone to get a second opinion, especially if that second opinion seemed to need cheering and thrived off academic validation. He plants a smacking kiss on your cheek. “Thanks, lovie.” 

“That’s just how I interpreted it,” you add. “I’m not certain.” 

“Yeah, okay.” James abandons his reading and rolls onto his side. “What’s going on with you?” 

“I’m just trying to do my homework, James,” you say tiredly, going back to your own parchment. 

“No,” he says certainly, “something’s wrong. You’ve just second-guessed your answer.” 

“And what? Just because I’m not positive means something has to be wrong?” You give him a sideways look, the first hint of annoyance he’s had from you all afternoon. It tells him he’s on the right track. 

“Something like that.” James reaches up to your temple, playing with your hair in the way you pretend to hate but secretly love. “Also, you were fine this morning but ever since you got back from class you’ve seemed down.” 

You harumph, as good as an admission. 

“Don’t hold out on me,” he coaxes. “Something happened during class, yeah?” 

You pretend to be reading something on your paper, not looking at your boyfriend. “Nothing important. Collins called me stuck up, but I hardly give a shit what she thinks.” 

James feels his eyebrows rise. “Siobhan said that?” 

You grunt in affirmation. 

“During class?”

“Well, she hardly waited ‘til we were in private.” 

He strokes down some of your baby hairs thoughtfully. “Sweetheart, do you remember last week in class when Siobhan tried to answer a question in Astronomy?” 

You scoff. “Yeah, she thought Jupiter had sixty five moons. What a dunce.” 

“Right. And you told her that to her face, remember?” 

“What’s your point, James?” 

“I’m just thinking,” he says carefully, “that Siobhan might’ve taken offense to that. And, perhaps, she may have wanted to try to embarrass you like you embarrassed her.” 

Your hair falls away from James’ fingers as you sit up, irate. “Well, that’s stupid,” you say. “I called her a dunce for missing an easy question, and she called me stuck up just because I did better on the Herbology quiz than her.” 

“Sounds like she’s jealous,” he agrees. “But I mean, it’s hardly your fault. You’re smart.” 

“I know!” James has to smother a grin at the return of his normal, confident girl. You cross your arms over your chest, huffy. “And I don’t even rub it in everyone’s faces all of the time, which I could.” 

“Best to let it lie, sweetheart.” He sits up to give you a kiss, pleased when you relax under his touch. “The poor girl’s already down in the dumps. Don’t let her get to you.” 

“You’re right,” you say, and now James can’t keep his grin at bay. That’s not something he gets to hear often. “Don’t look at me like that,” you snipe. “I’m just saying, she’s probably suffering enough. It would be difficult to be that dense.” 

James laughs. He plants another kiss on your lips, making you scowl. “That’s my girl.” 

[pitchsidestories]

golden girl II Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1732

a/n: as always this is just fiction, your feedback is always welcome. We saw that other people recently wrote fics with a similar topic and just wanted to clarify that we had the idea while writing one night in ibiza, so all similarities are purely coincidental.❤️

You watched from behind the camera as Alexia carried a football and set herself up to take a free kick. The ball spun through the air and landed perfectly in the top right corner of the goal.

You beamed.

This would make a nice video for the Spanish national teams social media sites.

As Alexia proudly turned towards the camera, her eyes met yours for a brief moment. She smiled, suddenly all flustered.

You held back a laugh to not ruin the video. Only once the recording stopped, you said: “Well done, babe!“

Alexias smile grew wider and you could have sworn the she even blushed.

“Ew!“, Jenni commented from somewhere behind you.

You turned to see her grimace in mock disgust.

Alexia barely glanced at her: “Shut it, Jenni.“

“No.“, the dark-haired player replied quickly and determinedly, similar to a stubborn child.

“Ignore her.“, you laughed as Alexia walked towards you and pulled you in by the waist for a kiss. Her gaze was still directed towards Jenni.

“Stop making out.“, she said and wrinkled her nose, repulsed by the showcase of affection.

Alexia only smirked at her: “I’m sorry but this point goes to me.“

“Whatever.“, Jenni rolled her eyes.

You were well acquainted with their bickering. They were both so ambitious, even when it came to you they always tried to one-up each other. This could go on forever if you didn’t put an end to it.

“Sorry, girl. But I’m not a trophy to be won.“, you said calmly and walked away without looking at them again.

Still, you could feel their eyes lingering as you walked towards the other players.

“Oh, little Miss Independent is back.“, Jenni teased, slight annoyance vibrating in her voice.

Alexia raised her eyebrows: “Also that was a lie, she clearly loves it.“

“Of course she does.“

“Just look at her.“, the Barcelona captain said, nodding in the direction where you were talking with Laia and Ona.

Another smile played on Jennis lips: “I love it when she’s acting all innocent.“

“Walking around, giving hugs to everyone. Oh, that Ona hug was extra long.“, Alexia commented your actions.

“She knows this doesn’t work, right?“

Behind all of the jokes and teasing however, was the slight sting of jealousy.

You didn’t notice the two player approaching you, you were too focused on your conversation with Ona.

“Oh my god, really, Oni?“, you laughed.

The defender went quiet: “Yes, uhm…“

“We definitely need to go on a walk with our dogs after the Olympics.“, you continued happily.

“We do.“

“Sweet.“, Alexia said cooly.

“Huh?“ You turned towards her, one eyebrow raised in expectation of a good excuse for interrupting your talk.

Jenni just smirked: “Quit flirting with Ona, you already have our attention.“

“I wasn’t flirting with her, we’re just good friends.”, you corrected her annoyed.

 “Quit rolling your eyes.”, the raven-haired woman demanded grinning.

“You know exactly what you did.”, Alexia shook her head amused.

“No.”, you answered innocently.

“See? She’s playing blameless again.”, Jenni sighed.

With a devilish grin, the blonde midfielder hugged you from behind, whispering into your ear. “You’ll confess everything tonight.” Her words send a shiver down your spine.

“Tonight?”, you repeated quietly.

“Yes.”, she affirmed.

“But we’ve our first Olympic game tomorrow!”, you protested.

“Don’t worry about it.”, the older forward assured you, while driving her hand through her dark open hair nonchalantly. The urge to touch her like she did in that moment was almost overwhelming, but you hold yourself back.

“And the beds are really small.”, you thought out loud.

“We can make a big one out of the three.”, Alexia suggested rationally.

“Easy.”, Jenni nodded enthusiastically.

“I guess we could do that.”, you admitted.

“Leave that to us, y/n.”, the oldest winked at you.

“I’ll let you do it.” A staff member called your name, reminding you that you had to do an interview for national television. To your girlfriends you explained. “Shit, I got to go, media duties.”

“Have fun.”, Alexia responded before turning her head to face the dark-haired forward.

“Great, that gives us enough time for the project bed.”, Jenni clapped excitedly into her hands. The enthusiasm reminded her of a child when it was about to open it’s present.

“Let’s go.”, the blonde told the woman who played in Mexico now.

The small cardboard beds were quickly put next to each other to form a bigger one, ready to hold the three of you.

“I think we’re ready only y/n is missing.”, Jenni announced delighted. The level of anticipation has been rising to the next level, the warmth and the near Mediterranean Sea added to it and the sun was about to set painting the sky in the prettiest colours.

“I’ll go see where she’s.”, Alexia decided, the taller woman following her immediately, in the hallway their hands were almost touching.  

Meanwhile, you were too focused on answering the questions of the journalist to realize that your girlfriends turned up behind your back.

“Oh, I can’t wait for the tournament to start, it’s so special as it’s the first time for our team to play at the Olympics.”, you raved, beaming with pride.

“Why’s she smiling like that? Y/n’s genuinely excited, huh?”, Jenni asked the blonde surprised.

“She’s.”, Alexia agreed.

“I could watch her do interviews forever.”, she declared swooning over you. Her green eyes admiring your sight, the gestures you made while talking about something you clearly loved and were passionate about.

“With whom I’d like to do a jersey swap? Definitely Marta, she’s such a big inspiration and everything she did for the women’s game is incredible. The only problem here is that Ona and Alexia want hers too, so we’ll see who gets it in the end.”, you laughed light-heartedly.

“Of course she would say that.”, Alexia scoffed.

Jenni watched on as you answered more questions: “Those young girls are such media pros.“

“I think she’s finally done.“, Alexia said, seemingly relieved that you were unable to embarrass her anymore.

You politely said goodbye to the interviewer and got up up.

“Hey! Y/n!“, Jenni called.

You heaved a sigh and gave her a death stare: “Jennifer, you don’t need to shout when we’re in the same room!“

The dark-haired player shrugged: “Wasn’t sure you saw us.“

“I’d always see you two, even in a crowded room.“, you replied, shaking your head.

“Don’t flatter us.“, Alexia said with a half-smile.

Confusion flashed across your face: “No, I mean you two, Misa and Irene are usually the tallest in every room.“

Alexias face dropped: “Seriously? I thought you were trying to be cute!“

Before you could say anything about how ridiculous that assumption was, Jenni clapped her hands: “Anyways, it’s time to take this to bed.“

You cocked your head teasingly: “Oh, is it?“

“Yes, it is.“, Alexia agreed with her teammate.

“Let’s go then.“, you shrugged.

“About time.“

“We did our waiting!“, Jenni complained and scooped you up into her arms.

You shrieked as she carried you off towards her bedroom. “Jenni, put me down!“

Alexia followed behind, closing her eyes for a second like she was fighting a headache: “Children.“

“Ale, help!“, you begged but the Barcelona captain barely gave you any attention.

“No.“

Jenni threw you down on the bed they prepared earlier: “Finally!“

“Finally?“, you echoed. The bed wobbled as she laid down beside you.

“Yes.“

“Are we sure this is stable enough to hold us three?“, you worried as Alexia climbed on your other side.

You suddenly remembered why the beds at the Olympic village were made out of cardboard. It was supposedly to prevent athletes from having sex and this might have worked for some. But apparently whoever came up with this had never met Jenni and Alexia.

“Don’t worry about it, darling.“, Jenni said while brushing a strand of hair out of your face. As she leaned over, the cardboard made the typical noise of being crushed.

You yelled in surprise: “Jenni!“

“Careful!“, Alexia laughed, trying to grab Jennis arm. Her movement made the whole bed collapse in a pile of mattresses and flat cardboard.

“Oh my god.“, you breathed out once the initial shock wore off.

“We broke the bed.“, Alexia commented unhelpfully.

“Just great, you two geniuses.“ You tried to sound mad but the ridiculousness of the situation made you grin.

Jenni instead was extremely amused by this: “I’m sure this will bring us luck.“

“Since when do broken beads do that?“, Alexia frowned at her.

“You can trust me.“, she kept smiling.

“I sure hope you’re right.”, you remarked.

“Me too.”, the Blonde stared at the forward.

“Just believe me girl.”, Jenni answered with a smug smile on her lips.

“And where are we supposed to sleep now.”, Alexia questioned while nodding to the destroyed beds.

“We still have our mattresses. Can’t be more uncomfortable than the beds.”, the older woman proposed.

“Good point.”, you said while the three of you lay down on those, you in the middle.

“I guess that’s my life as a professional athlete now.”, the midfielder hid her face behind her hands.

“You two are such pillow princesses.”, Jenni commented.

“Coming from the real pillow princess here.”, you countered, elbowing her softly.

“Lies.”, the dark-haired woman clicked her tongue.

“Truth.”, you disagreed smiling.

“Shut up.”, Jenni requested.

“Make me.”, you responded, sticking your tongue out for a second.

“Don’t worry, amor. I will.”, she hummed, pinning your arms downs, so you were unable to move, while her eyes wandered from your face to your breasts, under her gaze your cheeks turned hot.

“Go on.”, you muttered, you didn’t want to wait any longer.

With that intention Jenni got down on you to give you a feverish kiss. Taking her time to devour this one.

“Ah silence.”, Alexia sighed happily beneath you.

“Way better, right?”, Jenni looked up.

“Definitely.”, the midfielder noted, kissing both of you before her eyes were closing, sleep was calling her name.

“Is she asleep already?”, you questioned.

“Yes, good night my golden girls.”, the oldest woman chirmed.

“Golden girls?!”, you repeated.

“Quiet.” The demand coming from Alexia.

You apologized with a kiss to your cheek.

It was time to sleep, tomorrow was a big day, you were about to play your country’s first Olympic women’s football game, you three and your team were about to write history. Or should you rather say herstory.

[queers-gambit]

Love What You've Done with the Place

song by Rascal Flatts

prompt: he's never been a man built for relationships, until you come into his life. now, the house feels like a home.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: more brain rot rambles, probably cursing, NOT edited, very docile, fluff, romance, hardened men being simps.

It started with clothes. Just a few, here and there; left behind, forgotten, purposefully stuffed in his dresser for when you stayed the nights. He didn't mind, in fact, Tangerine encouraged you to bring whatever you felt comfortable with leaving since he hated how early you'd leave in the mornings to get ready for work. He found his mornings were peaceful when you were around; neither rushed, both content, starting your days on high notes with each other.

So, he made the decision and found an old sitting-vanity for you. He put it in his bedroom simply because he was fascinated with the hair and make-up process; thinking it was incredible that women had such skill. When he came home about 3 months ago, he noticed your vanity when he first got home from a particularly difficult mission. Your chair was draped in an old university tee shirt, and he smiled.

It was like watching your comfort grow and it warmed something deep in Tangerine's heart. Your make-up wasn't always in a neat array, sometimes just left from a quick touch-up; making the house feel more like a home.

Tangerine also bought a strainer for the shower's drain to catch your hair. He didn't get angry like previous boyfriends did when he found strands of your hair left behind - not on purpose or by some gross standard, but it was natural that hair shed in a shower and not every single strand could be picked up. So, to make life easier, he just quietly bought the hair trap, placed it, removed whatever empty bottles from the shower, and went about his day. But then he started to notice your hair left other places.

His counters, his sink, the floor, your vanity, his bed sheets and pillows.

Tangerine had his issues with possessiveness in the past, but this wasn't remotely similar. No, Tangerine found himself smiling when he would find your hair in his clothes; thinking it was funny, almost like a mark or badge of honor to designate him as yours. It was a brief thought, but Tangerine actually felt giddy by the idea of people just knowing he was off the market 'cause his lady's hair was clung to his suit jackets.

He liked it. He really did. He'd not admit it aloud, but he liked it.

Tangerine wasn't the most humble man in the world, but he certainly liked to flash what was his. Golden jewelry, expensive, tailored suits, shining Italian leather shoes. And now, you, the woman who invaded his heart and head - and now his home. He adored showing you off, feeling affirmed and invigorated by the longing glances men threw your way, and while he expected jealousy from other women, they seemed more impressed by your beauty and grace as well.

He remembers one night, after a several weeks long mission, he just wanted to hold you. His throat was a little choked up when he called you, knowing you were at home after reading an earlier text. So, you rushed over in the middle of the night and he'd yet to let you go home - three days later.

"You've gonna have to let me out of bed sometime," you smiled playfully. "I have work tomorrow - and no, I'm not calling out again."

"C'mon, love, don't leave me alone," he whispered, looking like a beaten down puppy. The mission was much harder than he'd let on, but Lemon usually always filled you in. He thought it was important for you to know certain details that Tangerine was sure to omit, knowing those were the details that haunted him.

"I'll be back after my shift," you promised, nuzzling his nose with your own. "I also need new panties and clean clothes."

He sighed, "Some in there," he pointed to his closet now.

"What?" You giggled.

"You've left enough behind, got a bit of a collection goin', yeah?" He smiled softly, wrapping you back up in his arms. With a sigh, he relented, "I'll let yah go to work, love, just... Need this a bit longer."

You obliged, but the next day, you were gone before he woke up. With a frown, Tangerine dropped back onto the bed - but inhaled deeply when his nose buried into your pillow. He hummed in pleasure, feeling himself brim with contentment, bringing the fluffy item to his chest and nuzzling it; your perfume left behind to soothe him.

Was Tangerine clingy? Oh, for sure! He didn't think so, but you knew better. The contract killer liked you close, liked his hands on you; even if it was just a hand on your waist or a nose near your neck. He missed you when gone, but he usually held himself back from texting you all day - wanting you to be able to focus on your job.

But that day? He was inept, just wanting you; wondering if he paid you the same salary, if you'd consider just staying home. So, he texted you several times.

This obviously threw you off a little, knowing him better than himself most days. But he just missed you, so, you sent a selfie - promising you missed him too and would be home right after work.

He saved the photo and tried not to dwell on how you said you'd "be home" and not "come to his place". He had to take a few moments to calm down, feeling his heart zing with unfamiliarity - but not being afraid of it like he had been when you first started dating. He could recognize he was happy, that he was excited to see you everyday, and that the idea of coming home to you was far too appealing to ignore any longer.

It seemed neither of you needed to actually have an official conversation about living together. Lemon didn't mind, in fact, he was the one who insisted you have your own key; adoring you and whatever affect you had on his emotionally constipated brother. So, some mornings, Tangerine wasn't surprised to find a slightly damp towel left hanging in the bathroom, nor by the make-up on his counter - you using that mirror because of the fluorescent lighting. He never put it back, he didn't move it - he liked seeing it. It meant you were still here, and the idea of it being gone made his stomach knot with anxiety. He also wasn't surprised when he went to use the shampoo you insisted would help his curls flourish (you were right), only to find it damn-near empty. His shower gel, too.

When you came home that evening, you had Target bags in hand; replacing whatever was empty, making Tangerine grin to himself by how in-sync he felt with you. He'd never had a connection such as this, only ever feeling close enough to Lemon, but you changed everything for them both.

How Tangerine ended up with someone courteous was truly beyond either of them. Someone kind, caring, adventurous, sweeter than pie - someone definitely out of Tangerine's league, something he never let himself forget. He adored you to your core - thinking someone such as you should never have gotten tangled up in someone like him, but he knew, if the time ever came, he'd never be able to let you go. In fact, most days, he had to convince himself not to just pick you up and carry you around while he did chores or ran errands.

The very idea of losing you sent his heart into his stomach; hallowing his chest in a harrowing fashion that made it hard to breathe. Just a week or two ago, Lemon found Tangerine in the kitchen, hand to his chest as if he couldn't catch his breath, heaving for air; his worry spiking, but quickly realizing what was wrong.

"Bruv, you've gotta breathe - calm down," he tried to coax. "You're having a panic attack, you've gotta just focus on breathing."

"Fuck off with that!"

"Seriously, man," Lemon insisted, catching Tangerine in a vulnerable state enough that he actually listened without much of a fight. When Tan seemed a little more under control of his own emotions, Lemon asked, "What the hell happened?"

Tangerine shook his head, "Nothing t'worry 'bout - "

"Bullshit," Lemon snapped. "I've never seen yah like that, mate, the fuck happened?"

It was embarrassing, but Tangerine managed to answer, "Just... Just started thinking that if she ever left me, I'd fucking crumble, mate."

This made Lemon frown, "She's not gonna leave you, man. You know that. The girl's madly in love with you, yeah? Like madly in love - like to a degree it makes her stupid in the head, all right? Obviously, you too," he chuckled, shaking his head as he affectionately ran a hand over the back of Tan's head. "You're workin' yourself up, 's all right. You don't have to think about that - ever - 'cause she's it for you, mate. Yeah? Hear me? She ain't goin' nowhere, not without you."

Tangerine needed the assurance. Being alone after having a taste of your love felt impossible to Tan now, something he was never bothered by before. Seriously, why give a fuck about a relationship when he had his brother? Someone who loved him unconditionally and wouldn't leave? And then he met you and understood why people gave fucks about relationships.

It was as if every room you ever entered was brightened up simply by your smile. Your laugh wasn't always the most ladylike, but it was genuine and true and always made Tangerine smile to himself. During any public outing, Tan was always close - we've established this - but he liked to play a small game. One of your love languages was physical touch, so, you liked kissing him if even just for a single second. He was aware of your lipstick, feeling the tacky substance stain his cheek, but he wouldn't wipe it off. His game was to see how long it'd take before someone would point it out; his reputation didn't always warrant others to feel secure enough to speak up. Some nights, Lemon would motion to his cheek, and other nights, you'd return home, remove your make-up, and swipe make-up remover over his cheek to clear the color away.

However, it wasn't often you ventured in public due to Tangerine's innate introverted nature. You went if The Agency made it mandatory or if you were feeling stir crazy, but majority nights, Lemon would find you both lounged on the couch in various positions.

Sometimes, you'd be watching a movie together or binging a show. Other times, you were reading a book while Tangerine poured over paperwork. And once or twice, Lemon's come home to find you belly laughing and playfully scolding Tangerine as he tried to paint your toe nails. It was a homey sight to Lemon: seeing his brother so in love and at ease, hearing your laughter, the entire flat filled with warm smells of burning candles and homemade meals.

It wasn't evident at first, but with you laying in Tangerine's arms, clothes left on the floor, bellies full of whatever meal you had prepared that evening, favorite show playing on the bedroom TV, he realized that he loved what you had done with the place.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[chuuyrr]

TO THE STRAY.. CATS? — DAZAI OSAMU

╰➤ CW(s): gn! reader, strangers to lovers with him falling first and falling harder, fluff/romance, and mentions of karma

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which dazai finds interest in a citizen who feeds stray cats near his workplace

inspired by: gorgeous, lover, and karma by taylor swift !

"well, if it isn't you again!"

you gently raise your head, blinking obliviously at the young man in a long sandy coat with unkempt brown hair looming over you as you crouch down with some sardines in your palm, just outside the cafe uzumaki.

"me again?" you ask the man, tilting your head, with a sheepish little soft grin that made him feel strangely warm inside.

"yeah, you!" dazai exclaims with a playful tone of voice, a smile on his lips and a finger pointing at you, "i keep seeing you around outside my workplace feeding the cats around here."

you were, certainly, the same person he kept seeing outside the building where the agency office was, feeding stray cats in the area.

and it was all thanks to ranpo, who mentioned how stray cats had been appearing around the area more frequently, and that if it hadn't been for his super deductive ability, he would have assumed it was because of their president, fukuzawa, but instead, it was you, going up and about to them with sardines or kibbles readily available.

as dazai called you out, you let out a soft chuckle, and the sound of your sweet laughter rang in his ears like bells, "i guess it really is me."

"so, you must really like cats, huh?" dazai asks, crouching down in front of you, copying your position, his eyes observing you tenderly as you reach out to pet one of the kitties you'd been feeding.

"mhm.." you hum softly, nodding your head and chuckling once more as another cat that you had been feeding meows and approaches you. it purrs as it rubs its head against your leg.

"and it seems that they like you as well.." dazai giggles quietly, "how strange."

"strange?" you raise your head to face him again, tilting your head and smiling sweetly.

"yeah, strange," dazai affirms with a nod as he briefly turns his attention to the stray cats that were rubbing, meowing, and purring gently against you as if you were their loving owner, "cats have an unearned reputation for being cold and unloving, you know?"

"really, now?" you ask, still carrying a sweet smile that dazai was having trouble looking away from now.

"well, that's because they display affection differently than dogs and they tend to be meaner, at least that's what people say," dazai says before glancing down at the stray cats swarming you that were being affectionate and friendly, "but that doesn't seem to be the case at all, especially with you."

"you know what i think, though?" you remark softly as you start giving more sardines and kibbles to the stray cats, "cats are actually adorable, clumsy, and fun to be with."

"and that's what makes you like them?" dazai smiles at your words.

your following remarks, however, catch him off guard, "yeah, but i mostly like how cats are sensitive creatures too.. cats are karma after all."

dazai's eyes widened in astonishment, clearly and really taken off guard by your innocently sweet comments, which had morphed into something even more serious yet still engaging.

"be kind to cats, and you get kindness in return, just like this.." you explain, gently stroking the cat's body with a delicate carress as you look up to him, "be unkind, and well, cats become unkind to you too, like bite and scratch you. basically, what goes around, comes around."

dazai's breath hitched as your lovely [color] eyes ever so slightly narrowed while sparkling with a mysterious yet alluring gleam in them as you continued to speak your mind out, "cats know a person's heart like no other."

"wow.. i was definitely not expecting that," dazai exhales, amused at your choice of words, "so you're saying, karma is a cat?"

"karma is a cat indeed," you reply with a firm nod, giggling softly as you stand up on your feet after crouching for so long, prompting dazai to do the same, "but hey, that's just a rambling from a crazy cat person like me."

"hey, i might have never heard someone describe and see cats like that in a very deep sense before," dazai laughs softly, shaking his head at you, "and i might not be a cat either, but i can sense that you're a really interesting one, and a kind one too."

"well, aren't you a charmer?" you join his laughter, smiling at his words, "you're too kind."

"and you're too pretty." dazai whispers so quietly that you didn't catch that.

"huh? did you say something, mister?"

"nothing!"

dazai couldn't help but daydream more frequently at work since finally speaking with you, much to kunikida's dismay.

he's been acting strangely since he found out about you and starting seeing you around the region, which his yosano-sensei and ranpo would find hilarious and lovely.

there's simply something so enticing about you, in a positive way. you always had this beautiful glow with you whenever he watched you from afar, even if you weren't feeding stray cats and were just roaming around the neighborhood.

dazai would constantly sigh with his hands on his cheeks as he looked out the window, waiting for you to come around the corner so he could walk up to you and talk to you while you fed stray cats literally with hearts in his eyes, and he would even hurry downstairs to the first floor as soon as he saw you.

all of this may sound strange, but in reality, dazai was madly in love with you, so much so that he finds himself acting like a high school boy with a tremendous infatuation.

however, it makes dazai so happy that it makes him sad at the same time as well. you were just so gorgeous—so beautiful in his eyes.

you were a person with a kind heart and an open mind who sees the world in such a different but entirely fresh light, and dazai just can't help but want to be closer to you and just follow you wherever you go.

even if it's to the stray cats.

having said that, perhaps dazai was mistaken, especially given the manner he was behaving towards you. maybe he is more of a cat now.

he'd drop everything and trail after you like the stray cats you'd feed, eager to spend time with you, and even going out of his way to be a gentleman to you, carrying your bag for you while you went onto feeding cats, opening up the packet of cat food you had with you when you had trouble doing so.

even going out of his way to rescue a stray cat you found and pointed in the middle of the road in a panic.

at this time, dazai was also doing it for the stray cats, but he wasn't complaining. he's not a dog person and prefers cats in reality, but he really enjoys being able to do all of these things with you.

he was also typically confident and charismatic, but it didn't mean he didn't have doubts. in fact, dazai has them again when he recalls the things you told him when he finally had the courage to speak to you.

cats know a person's heart like no other.

and those words played over and over in his head like a broken record.

"[name], i'm not sure about this."

dazai can't help but be nervous as he crouches down in front of an orange tabby cat you two had come across around the area, putting out his palm, which held the few cat kibbles you had given him.

"it's just a cute little stray," you giggle at dazai.

"that's not why.." dazai tells you with a sheepish laugh. that's not what he's nervous about.

he genuinely enjoys spending time with you. he really does, but, to return to your remarks, he wasn't yet a good person. his blood was as dark as an empty void—at least, that's what dazai initially assumes until the cat walks up to him.

he tenses up a little when the cat's soft snout nudges his fingers, which feels ticklish, and instantly finds himself gasping in awe when it starts eating the cat kibbles he had in hand.

all of his doubts and hesitancy are washed away by a sensation of relief and peace as the cat purrs and nudges its head against his fingers after meowing and eating the food in his hand.

dazai's eyes light up as he looks at you with his mouth slightly parted, "i'm a cat whisperer now!"

with the cat approaching dazai and accepting the cat food he put out for it, he starts smiling ever so joyful and honestly like a child on christmas day, and you couldn't help but find it absolutely adorable of him.

"looks like you are now!" you say with a rather proud looking smile at him.

"it really likes me!" dazai exclaims, returning his gaze to the cat, who was still pushing its head on his fingers.

he then began petting and speaking to it with giddiness just like how you would to a typical cat, "hi, cat! hi! you're so friendly!"

"of course the little fella does," you giggle, squatting down next to dazai before tilting your head and continuing to grin lovingly at him, "cats are sensitive creatures, remember? it definitely knows you're a good person."

he blinks at your words, "it does?"

"yeah," you reply, reaching out your hand to pet the orange tabby once dazai has done so.

"I see.." dazai's eyes softened as he watched you smile and coo at the orange tabby he had fed with the cat kibbles you'd given him earlier.

as dazai watches you and cat interact, his smile grows larger and more genuine, and his heart begins to skip a beat.

perhaps he had already found it, slowly but surely—the light he had sought out since abandoning his old ways as dazai spent this very modest and domestic moment with you.

this opportunity to be so near to you, to indulge in something so endearing as this. he loved it.

but then dazai's phone goes off, surprising both you and the cat he was feeding.

"ah, crap. sorry! let me just take this real quick," dazai says quickly with wide eyes.

"no worries. go ahead," you reply softly, waving your free hand that wasn't caressing a cat.

dazai pulls out his own flip phone, already expecting a call from an angry kunikida, who will reprimand him and make him come back to do his pile of reports, but it was atsushi instead.

he then answers the incoming call instead of declining, and to his surprise, the work he assigned atsushi ends up being successful, as it went swimmingly more than he had predicted, with no casualties or damages, which was actually quite strange.

aside from that, atsushi had also called in to inform him that he had completed the stack of reports for him. meaning, there was no more paperwork waiting for him at the office either.

you glanced at dazai from the corner of your eye as he talks on the phone with a coworker before a pretty pleased smirk tugs on your lips as you continue to pet the orange tabby cat.

"everything alright?" you ask with an innocent smile as dazai finished answering his call.

"mhm, it's just my co-worker," dazai tells you with a smile on return as he puts his phone away, drawing his attention back to you.

"well, that's nice," you hum before tilting your head at him, your innocent gentle smile widening with anticipation.

"what are you smiling like that for all of a sudden, cutie?" dazai raises a brow at you.

"well, it's getting late, but i still have some cat food on me," you giggle at the sudden pet name from dazai as you speak, tapping your cheek with your index finger.

"and what about it?" dazai smirks, already knowing exactly where this was going.

"it means it's time for me to go look for more stray cats," you say, tilting your head with that same smile, "unless you want to come along?"

"is that your way of asking me out?" dazai jokes, his cheeks blushing slightly.

"well?" you ask him back, your smile growing wider as your cheeks begin to blush as well.

"oh, please, you already know the answer, my love," dazai shakes his head as he approaches you, already wrapping his arm around your waist and smiling as he puts his lips to your ear.

"i would follow you to the stray cats and back."

"to the stray.. cats?"

"and back."

karma is a cat allows its user to induce karma, which can be a blessing or a curse that may or may not include the bending of reality, but it is highly dependent on the target's course of action and the sincerity of the heart around the user.

[corvidcrossbow]

FIRST OFF, 600+ NOTES ON THAT FIC????? I ACTUALLY LOVE YALL LIKE I WILL SOB AND YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS 😭😭 I WAS NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING ON TUMBLR FOR SO LONG BUT YALL ARE SO SWEET I CANT I APPRECIATE YOU SO MUCH, BUT ANYWAY-

Nobody can ever convince me that Daryl doesn't purr like that man is a full on cat not actually… maybe? 👀

But his voice is already so low and scratchy and gravelly, half his vocabulary being grunts, and the other half is just extensions of grunts, he HAS to be purring too, humming so low that it just descends into purrs. (This has some smutty talk in it)

BUT LIKE HERE?? PURRING

The first time you noticed it, he was laying on your chest cuddling, maybe after sex or just a long day. His eyes were closed, enjoying the rhythmic rising and falling of your chest as you breathe, listening to your heart beat, feeling your warm, smooth skin.

Your hand rested on his head, slowly raking through his hair, combing through the strands and scratching his scalp. He'd grunt a little in approval, nuzzling closer to you, and it'd turn into a continuous low hum – a purr.

You could feel soft vibrations running through him and transferring to you. It was so comforting, healing.

“You purr,” You murmured, a gentle smile on your face.

“Hm?” He was a little confused by what you meant.

“You purr – like a cat.”

Daryl was still confused. He didn't hear it himself, didn't really know what you were implying, was maybe even a little insecure about it. He didn't know if that was a good thing, but you affirmed to him it was. He does it subconsciously when he's comfortable and had just never noticed it himself, or had someone point it out to him.

Most any time you're cuddling, he does it, still not even realizing it unless you say something. Cuddling would be a lower, more consistent/ continuous purr.

And during sex, when he's more submissive or really needy, whether missionary or you riding him (any position really) he'll bury his head into your hair, crook of your neck, shoulder, or chest and purr, breath hitching too with whimpers and whines. And this one is higher pitched, breaking with his breaths

Scratching is the major trigger for it. His head, back, forearms, torso, literally anywhere, just especially his scalp. He loves it more than he even realizes.

I would call him “my kitty” or "kitty" and he'd probably scoff at it at first sayin “‘m not'ah cat” but when I'm in his lap and he's literally purring and whimpering with tears in his eyes as I ride him how could I not call him my kitty?? (Never kitten cuz discord mods destroyed that word 🗿)

He's not the only thing that's purring

[marikosenwrites]

karasuno boys - dating headcanons (pt. 1)!

a/n: sen here!! heyy obsessing over our haikyuu boys are we <3 yes i am i'm only on season two right now though, almost season three!! i'll be doing aoba jousai, nekoma, and fukuroudani gakuen! enjoy!

characters: hinata shouyou, kageyama tobio, tanaka ryuunosuke, sugawara koushi (suga-san🥹), sawamura daichi, tsukishima kei (TSUKKI🥹) [pt. 1], yamaguchi tadashi, takeda ittetsu (just me and one of my favorites), ukai keishin [and in that order] {pt.2}

pt. 1 || pt. 2

notes: in this au, kiyoko can't be married to tanaka...yeah. they're still in highschool, btw

gn!reader

↳ ❝ [ 日向翔陽 HINATA SHOUYOU ] ¡! ❞

-this cutie omg

-probably the first to confess

-gets all blushy when you're around at the start of the relationship

-you love ruffling his hair

-if you watch him practice until the end, he treats you to meat buns!! if he doesn't have enough money, he'll just share one with you

-kageyama is jealous omg and tsukishima is just like "the chibi got a girlfriend??"

-loves you so very much

-his love language HAS to be words of affirmation and physical affection

-you just can't help but return the affection

-if you don't know how to play volleyball, he's gonna teach you!!

-if you know- he's going to ask you to talk to him

-dates will be chaotic and affectionate

-often cooking dates!

-you love his family especially natsu

-also love them amusement park dates with him

-he's so fun loving and all

-kisses are very innocent, close to no spice at all except when he's feeling super annoyed or something

-loves cuddling with you when it's bedtime <33

-does NOT have a specific schedule rest assured

-calls you his dove (aww)

-you love calling him sunshine <333

-HE'S JUST SO BRIGHT

-I SWEAR

↳ ❝ [ 影山飛雄 KAGEYAMA TOBIO ] ¡! ❞

-a sweetheart actually

-he's so cold on the outside but lights up when you're there

-kisses have a little bit of spice

-he's too prideful to confess first ig so you make the move

-loves it when you come to his practice to support him

-at some point he has requested you to become a manager because sometimes ukai thinks you're a distraction for him so asks you to walk out for a bit to let kageyama concentrate

-you bet he has worried over it because he didn't know where you went

-ok onto the main shit

-dates are always somehow sport related (HOW DOES HE KEEP FINDING THEM)

-sometimes an outing or two when he's actually free and not busy with volleyball stuff

-you'd think he isn't clingy...WELL IT'S THE OPPOSITE ALRIGHT.

-he actually craves YOUR attention and YOURS ONLY

-i think you two would have a cat together (named it NOTHING after the other volleyball players you know :/)

-loves your cuddles too

-WAIT WAIT HEAR ME OUT

-YOU KNOW HE BUYS THEM DRINKS RIGHT

-HE WOULD BUY LIKE HUNDREDS FOR YOU IF YOU WANT

-aww the little (wait he's tall) guy

↳ ❝ [ 田中龍之介 TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE ] ¡! ❞

-the hot-headed guy just can't get enough of you

-you sometimes make fun of him for being almost bald-

-but he's okay with it because he loves you (as long as you dont do it that often)

-okay so firstly like kiyoko WHEN HE SEES YOU HE CONFESSES TO YOU ALMOST IMMEDIATELY

-one second he's dumbfounded by your beauty, the other he's confessing to you already

-like you reject him first few times

-AND THEN AND THEN YOU START TO FALL FOR HIM

-THEREFORE YOU ACCEPT WOOOOO

-it's uh "Y/N-SAN! I LIKE YOU CAN YOU GO OUT WITH ME?!!!" and then you're just like "ah- yeah. mhm."

-he's just like :o WHAT

-okay that's it for the confession

-dates are always what you want

-if it happens you want to make cake, go for an ice cream shop, an amusement park- whatever, you name it and he can afford it? YOU'RE GOING

-they're all so sweet...

-he's also needy at some point when you're dating

-so...MORE IN MY NSFW LATER

↳ ❝ [ 菅原孝史　SUGAWARA KOUSHI ] ¡! ❞

-i'm gonna bet 100 dollars that he's the one confessing

-STEP ONE: get you as his girlfriend

-firstly he's going to ask you to meet him during lunch in the morning

-second when you're both there he confesses

-to his surprise you accept to go out with him and one date turns into two, into three and ON

-STEP TWO: MORE DATES TO COMEEE

-always ice cream dates and baking dates

-always appears to get flour in his fluffy hair

-ALSO ALSO YOU LOVE PATTING HIS HAIR AT ALL TIMES IT'S LIKE COMFORTING YOURSELF

-sometimes picnics too <333

-STEP THREE: there is none for now but THERE WILL BE SOON. SOON ENOUGH.

-his way of giving you affection is by kissing you, cuddling, and giving you praises...

-do you have a praise kink (nvm forget i asked that)

-cuddling in bed is one of his favorite ways to go to sleep

-you stroking his back is too

-you guys are always the talk of the karasuno vb boys group when you guys get together for gatherings (the perfect couple?!?!?!?!)

↳ ❝ [ 澤村大地 SAWAMURA DAICHI ] ¡! ❞

-he's definitely the one to confess first being the big boy man he is <3

-literally will kiss you when you accept

-so taken aback you felt like you were going to faint

-his kisses are so gentle help

-ok maybe not sometimes but we all know when that is

-love playing with his ears mayybe?? i know there's nothing different with the rest, but i just feel like it's with daichi

-your first date is an amusement park one ✨✨

-p.s. you shared the cotton candy lmao-

-he literally walked you home and your parents invited him in for dinner

-they like him very much thank you

-relationship has been approved now your parents are urging him to marry you even though it's only one week into the relationship-

-now HE'S the one that pats your head every time he passes you in the hallway or whatsoever

-when you move in together LITERALLY EVERYTHING IS YOUR CHOICE NOW

-you can choose the flat, the decorations, the vibes, the furniture- EVERYTHING

-loves you that much yes

-the sweetest guy ever NO DEBATE

↳ ❝ [ 月島蛍 TSUKISHIMA KEI ] ¡! ❞

-SALTY SHIMA. THIS MAN IS SO SALTY

-i swear bro

-he has rizz though that's for sure

-he confesses to you first (it was during lunch you remember the day like it was yesterday)

-his kisses are half spicy (igg since tsukishima is that kinda person)

-the mean to the public and only kind to you kind of person <3

-dates are usually home dates (he's an introvert (i headcanon))

-perhaps if you can persuade him (it's a 50/50)

-first date was a movie date

-then you went home with him (you went to his house)

-and met his parents

-they liked you very much <33 now treat you like their daughter

-the next time you went on a date, you brought him to yours and he made a good impression but they don't love him as much as his parents do to you

-i will write the time skip arc for this because i am biased and you literally can't stop me (but tell me if you want more i'll reblog it with more hcs)

-you were so happy for him when he joined the sendai frogs

-cheered for him on every game (LIKE THE SHIRT AND THE SIGNS AND STUFF)

-facepalmed himself out of spite ya bet he got a scolding for that

-"KEI KEI KEI GANABTTE," that was you, screaming at the top of your lungs at your HUSBAND.

-"oi, tsukki, who's that?"

-tsukishima facepalmed himself, earning a glare from you, "my wife."

-"EHH?? TSUKKI HAS A WIFE??"

-lmao the most normal occurrence

-after that koganegawa would often come to you and ask for dirt on kei (screw him for facepalming)

-saltyshima (in the public) → sweetieshima (in front of you only)

©marikosenwrites 2024-25 all banners, dividers, and work. please do not steal. i own none of the HAIKYUU!!/ハイキュー！！ characters mentioned. reblogs, likes, and comments are welcomed. <3

[trans-axolotl]

my gendered experience growing up as an intersex person was overwhelmingly defined by my responses and resistance to everything that got me labeled as a failure: failure to quickly get a gender assigned at birth, failure to go through a normal puberty and grow up into a woman, failure at meeting the standards for "complete womanhood" because of my intersex sex traits, and yet simultaneously failing to ever be acknowledged as a "real man" and being treated as a threat when I expressed I wanted to transition.

before i realized i was a man and came out as trans, the ways that girlhood was denied to me was very often humiliating and painful. locker rooms filled with other girls were a frequent source of shame. there were many big and small ways that i was told that my intersex body made me insufficient, incomplete, broken. i was forced onto estrogen, forced into shaving my body hair, and was constantly being told to change myself to better fit this mystical idea of a "normal woman." and even though I ultimately ended up becoming a man, the denial of girlhood was painful.

but i think that these things would have been even more difficult to navigate as an intersex girl if on top of everything I already said, i was having to cope with the denial of my girlhood while i was forced into boys locker rooms. if my doctors were forcing me onto testosterone hrt and refusing to even discuss estrogen, if all my legal paperwork had "M" on it and was a logistical nightmare to change, if every support group for my intersex variation labeled it as a "men's support group," if the LGBTQ community spaces i tried to join were misogynistic towards me often to the point of exile, if my self determination as an intersex girl was denied in most spaces of my life, and on and on and on. while listing all these things out i also don't want to make it seem like it's all about suffering and pain--so much of transition for me has been about joy in my self determination and how much it feels like a reclamation of autonomy to decide what I want my body and self to be like--i know this is an experience i share with so many of my trans intersex friends.

as an person who was AFAB, although there were many ways that trying to grow up as an intersex girl were a painful, logistical nightmare, many times and places that i was excluded from woman's spaces, etc. however, there was a simultaneous affirmation that i was right to strive for that in the first place. which is logic rooted in some fucked up compulsory dyadism, but also which would have made some things slightly easier or even possible at all if i had wanted to embrace being an intersex girl within this fucked up system.

pretty much every time i've seen people on tumblr talking about "afab transfems" in an intersex context, people seem happy to collapse these experiences and act like there's no meaningful distinction or point in distinguishing between different types of intersex embodiment. it seems incredibly extractive, to be perfectly honest with you--taking terms already used by a community to make meaning of their experiences and to expand and dilute that term enough that it means something pretty different than the original.

it's making me think about the concept of epistemic injustice, which is a term coined by Miranda Fricker to describe oppression related to knowledge, communication, and making meaning of the world. There's two subtypes of epistemic injustice: testimonial injustice and hermeneutical injustice. Testimonial injustice refers to the dynamic where marginalized people are labeled as not credible, excluded from conversations, and their testimony and knowledge is labeled as unreliable, even when they're the ones who are experts and have first hand experience of what people are talking about. (this is why i probably won't make this post rebloggable--i've noticed this pattern on tumblr many times where trans men speaking about transmisogyny get lots of notes and are given a lot of grace, where trans women are silenced, attacked for not having perfect wording, and otherwise delegitimized.)

the second type is called hermeneutical injustice. it describes how marginalized people are denied the right to make sense of the experiences in their own lives. this can look like preventing people from building community, terminology, a political understanding of themselves, and the interpretive resources needed to process how you live in the world.

this is a form of injustice that I think almost all intersex people are very familiar with--we are denied community and interpretive resources to the point that we're told we don't even exist, that intersex isn't a real word, and so many more examples that leave us isolated and with very few options for understanding what we're collectively experiencing. as an intersex person i really intimately understand how frustrating, confusing, and painful it is to not have words for your experiences, your identity, your life.

so it makes me really sad and pissed off when it seems like intersex people seem to be replicating this exact same type of epistemic injustice towards transfems and specifically towards intersex transfems. pretty much every time recently i see people talking about "afab transfems" they're doing so in a way that seems to deny that trans women even have the right to make sense of their own experiences in the world. there seems to be this mindset that these political frameworks, these interpretive resources that transfems have built up are just up for grabs for anyone. and then on top of that has come with it a lot of cruel, hateful language and direct attacks towards many intersex transfems who are facing so much harassment right now.

an important value to me is this idea of reciprocity as a foundation for solidarity. to me reciprocity means that we're prioritizing the ways we care for each other, we're thinking about how we can uplift each other, and we're watching out for extractive or exploitative patterns where one group is constantly expected to be in "solidarity" with another group without getting the same respect and care back toward them. i think that there could be so many ways that intersex people of all genders could share our overlapping experiences and actually be in true, meaningful solidarity with each other, but i barely ever actually see that happen on tumblr. and that pisses me off, because i do think that there's so much we have in common that we could celebrate and support each other with. i feel so much kinship with so, so many of my trans intersex friends, and ways where i see our lives converge. but i don't think that can happen in an environment where there's no acknowledgment of the ways that our experiences will sometimes (often) differ from each other, and the ways that we have unique needs.

another frustration i've had based on this most recent couple months of transmisogynistic intersex posting on tumblr is how intersex people have been mostly ignoring intersex community resources and devaluing the existing intersex terminology that people created to try to meet our needs. so much of what i've seen people describing on tumblr seems to really line up with the term ipsogender. Ipsogender is a term coined by an intersex sociologist Cary Gabriel Costello, and is used to describe intersex people whose gender matches the gender they were medically assigned at birth, but who might not feel like cis or trans fits them, might experience dysphoria, and who might feel like they've ended up transitioning medically or socially in some ways. this is a word that exists that an intersex person put time into coining because they wanted other intersex people to feel seen, embraced, and have ways of understanding themselves and communicating to others, and that's something that's super meaningful to me! and yet, i've rarely seen anyone reference it, and also seen multiple people making fun of it in other spaces online.

there's also intergender, which is another intersex specific gender term used to describe when your gender is inseparable from your intersex traits, and that your intersex identity is intertwined with your gender identity in some way. some people just identify as intergender, others use it as an adjective and exist as an intergender man or woman. intersex terminology like this is really important to me, especially because we're so often denied the right to make sense of our own experiences.

i think ultimately what i wanted to say with this post is just that when i think about intersex community, some of the most important values of intersex community for me are solidarity, care for each other, and affirming our right to define our own existence. and i don't think that can happen in a community where people are acting in extractive ways, harassing and attacking their fellow community members, and being dismissive of the realities of other intersex people's lives.

[6okuto]

i was thinking about oikawa and i just KNOW that he LOVES to be babied. that's just him, yk? like that's totally him and i would love to read about 30 year old professional volleyball player oikawa tooru being babied by his wife

(timeskip, fem!reader) he's just like me fr. i actually wrote something different but there wasn't enough babying so here u go 🥹🙆🏻‍♀️

tooru is one of if not the hardest worker you know, never losing sight of his ambitions and passion. determination lines his veins, and late nights of practice and analysis have seeped into the cartilage between his bones, gluing together what makes tooru oikawa, #17, setter for club athletico san juan.

but it's not oikawa, it's tooru, the boy you met in high school who stumbled down the steps after using a cheesy pick-up line on you and whines when you try to leave his arms for the washroom, who's your husband.

"long day?"

tooru groans and buries himself deeper into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped snug around your middle. he didn't really need to answer—the lit street lights and dim sky outside were answer enough.

holding back a laugh, you comb your fingers through his hair, the familiar scent of jasmine and vanilla dancing its way to you. "proud of you, baby."

your husband's voice is quiet, "thank you."

"you want me to run a bath for you?"

"...maybe later?"

"m'kay. you wanna stay here for a while?"

"yeah." his fingers trace hearts across your back, and when he pouts, you feel it against your skin. "i'm so tired."

pouting too in response, you press a kiss to his head and rub his back. "i know, baby, at least you're home now."

"but then i have to leave you tomorrow."

"and then you come back to me again tomorrow."

"but then i leave again—oh my god, what kind of sick world do we live in?" he whines, letting out a noise that could be described as a choked sob.

and this time, you let yourself laugh. "aw, my poor tooru,"—you cradle his head against you —"the horrors of a job have caught you."

"what if we worked somewhere together?" he lifts his head to look at you.

you raise a brow. "i love you, you're the light of my life, but you are not getting me on that court."

he gapes. "betrayal from my own wife?"

"okay, then come to my job."

"...well—"

"betrayal from my own husband?" you gasp and tooru pouts again—though at this point you're not sure if the original pout ever left to begin with.

it's still just as endearing, and your expression softens. "you'll be fine, 'ru. i'll baby you as much as you want every time you come home."

his pout pulls even more at his lips, and you mirror it. bringing your hands up, you hold his face and squish his cheeks with your words— "i, tooru oikawa, love my wife and my job, and i'm a strong, independent guy who can do anything."

"d'you rilly hafta hol' m'face?"

"it's for the effect and affirmations," you tease, before your amusement softens to something else. "how long are you out tomorrow?"

tooru's jaw drops as much as it can with you holding him in place. "why would you—9 hours!"

and before the dread of leaving you can fully take hold, you kiss his forehead. the apple of his left cheek, the right, then his eyes, his nose, both sides of his jaw, his lips—all with a resounding mwah!

tooru's arms cling tighter, and he leans into each kiss, always chasing your affection though he doesn't have to. you smile at the flush dappled across his face. "see? a kiss for each hour."

he opens his mouth to answer, but then the pout comes back. "each half hour at least. each 15 minutes—"

"tooru." you snort. "what is that, like, 36 kisses?"

"okay, a kiss for each minute."

"babe—"

"you know how hard i train, i know you watched my interview."

and you really don't think you'll make it to 100, much less 500 kisses, but you'll try anyway, even if after the first one, tooru says, "one."

you snicker as you place the next four, and he counts them before pointing out, "you know, kissing your husband is way easier than doing rdl's."

"yes, yes, i know, honey." you softly laugh and press another to the spot between his brows. "i'm not complaining."

he counts again—six, seven, eight, nine—and you remember the determination and patience of oikawa was never separate from tooru, especially not when it came to you.