#sorry my ex is being Anni

[iqmmir]

Why is he like this

[bachno2]

if you know me irl and you know who this is about no you dont

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[mediocre-daydreams]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲: send me a character and “opposites attract” duo (ex. grumpy x sunshine, loner x popular) for a blurb!

finnick odair (popular/shy) please! i think it'd be so sweet :)

ok so i just started typing and this emerged and i'm not sure how well this fits the request or if it makes sense but you've got me in my finnick feels and now i have this urge to write for him but bro i have so many WIPs how could u do this to me :(((((

finnick odair x reader // 1.2k

you have an odd relationship with finnick. are you acquaintances? begrudging friends? enemies just for the sake of having someone to squabble with? in any other situation, you’d want a definitive answer. but it’s the 75th hunger games, and in all honesty, you couldn’t give less of a damn about finnick odair.

you’ve only met him a few times, when the capitol invites all the victors for some frivolous celebration for anniversary of a glorified massacre. it’s horrible, you’re more than aware. but some part of you feels a little better that you get to see finnick, because as much as he is confusing and for reasons unbeknownst to you, he seems to have your back.

the parade is twice as busy this year but the capitol spectators seem thrice as enthusiastic. you silently thank your designer for prematurely accepting your death, because it means he didn’t bother to design something extravagant (by capitol standards) and embarrassing (by your standards).

“well, don’t you just look ravishing?” a male voice sounds near your ear and you feel a warm breath tickle the side of your face.

you fight the urge to grab the nearest sharp object and stab your opponent. you turn your head, slowly and intentionally, to the source of the noise and are unsurprised at who you find. “finnick?” it sounds more like a statement than a question.

“surprised to see me?” finnick grins, flashing you those teeth that must’ve been capitol-modified. they aren’t, of course. finnick hates everything capitol, and that’s the only reason you let him stick around. there are no other reasons.

“um, no.” you wish you could come up with a better, wittier, cleverer, flirtier response, but there’s something about the way he smells—luxurious and a little briny and so fresh it’s almost cold, but the heat from his bare chest says otherwise… “no, i’m not surprised. i saw your reaping.”

you cringed, remembering how he’d volunteered for annie and how defeated he’d looked on that stage, standing next to his old mentor and trying to avoid eye contact with his crying ex-lover. annie had never been the same after her games. perhaps you shouldn’t have brought that up.

“i’m flattered,” finnick grins at you again, pinching his lower lip between his teeth. he’s got one elbow on a table and even though his free arm hangs loosely by his side, you feel trapped where you are. or at least you’re in no rush to get away from him.

“okay, well… that’s good?” you mumble, not sure where he gets his endless chain of banter from but wishing you could have some.

“it’s good,” finnick repeats, shaking his head in amusement. he runs his hands through golden curls, meticulously styled and sprayed to look effortlessly tousled, and you’re sure his styling team is somewhere nearby wishing death upon you for being the reason their pretty boy has (god forbid) a strand of hair out of place.

finnick calling your name with that lovely voice of his snaps you out of a daze you hadn’t realized you were in. you blink, slightly caught off guard. “sorry, what was that?”

“i said, see something you like?” finnick’s grin is more smug now, almost feline. he looks like he’s about to pounce and ruin your life with those damn eyes. or, spear you with his trident in the quarter quell. neither seem particularly appealing.

“no!” you deny. “no- i mean, that’s not what i meant-” you stammer, eyes jumping everywhere but his polished chest. had his team rubbed him down in baby oil? he was glowing, all tan skin and smooth planes and well defined ridges and-

“no, you don’t like me? i’ve gotta say, i’m a little hurt,” finnick teases. “and here i thought we had something going on.”

“gah, i didn’t mean that! i’m not ogling you, is all. ‘course i like you, as long as you’re not going to kill me on the first day,” you manage to get out.

“hey, your words, not mine.” finnick shrugs, a smirk gracing his lips. “but just for the record, i am ogling you.”

your eyes narrow in confusion.

“i mean it,” finnick continues, swallowing, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker away yours for a moment. almost like he’s nervous. “you look nice. you look really… pretty.”

it’s not a groundbreaking or particularly romantic statement, but it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen finnick around someone who isn’t mags, and that means something to you. “i think you’re pretty too, finnick.”

his confidence returns. “y’know, i’m told that quite a bit. but it means a lot more coming from you, sweetheart.”

you purse your lips. “don’t get cocky, or i’ll take it back.”

“no take backs!” finnick sighs and licks his lips thoughtfully. you’re not sure if he’s trying to entice you on purpose, but either way, you’re enticed.

the conversation is lulling and it’s really finnick’s fault. you’re not much of a conversationalist. “uh,” you begin, not sure why you opened your mouth when you had nothing to say. “um, your horse is… well groomed. and- uh, your chariot- yeah.” you want to kill yourself. you’re going to die in a few days anyway, so you might as well die before you lose all your dignity to the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

finnick snorts, unattractively horse-like, and you’re only a little comforted to know he’s not as perfect as he seems. “well, i’m sure the gamemakers will be pleased to hear that the procession is up to your standards.” he turns away from you to pat the side of his horse’s face and you get a good look at his high cheekbones and impossibly sharp jawline. you hate this man. 

the horse doesn’t seem to like finnick much. it flares its nostrils and finnick is forced to retreat, taking a step back and finding himself against a small table, useless and meant for decoration. atop it rests a bowl of sugar cubes, which are also useless and probably meant for decoration. you want to scoff at how dedicated the capitol is to performing false hospitality down to the last detail.

finnick turns to see what he bumped into and his eyes light up. he pinches a cube of sugar between his pointer finger and thumb and rolls it around, pretending to examine it. he returns his gaze to you. “some sugar for my sugar?”

you want to gag. finnick is so disgusting and you can’t imagine who would fall for his cheesy pick-up lines. not you, that’s for sure. “no thanks. i’m… allergic.”

“allergic to sugar? really?” finnick frowns, tossing the sugar cube in the air and catching it in his palm easily. “i’ve never met someone with a sugar allergy before.”

you shrug, caught up in your lie and grateful that finnick didn’t call you out on it. you didn’t know if you’d be able to survive the embarrassment of your verbal slip.

the sugar cube really is for show. he places it on the table with disinterest and curls his lip mischievously. “well, i suppose it doesn’t matter. you’re sweet enough to give me a cavity as it is.”

you can’t help yourself. “are you flirting with me?” your mind runs faster than your mouth, it seems, and now you’re pretty sure you’ve screwed up the chance to talk to this man ever again.

finnick looks at you oddly, raises his eyebrows, and purses his lips to hide what would probably be a stupidly smug smile. “no, with the horse.”

[toxicyeuriii]

hai hai!! hru? i was wondering if i could request general romantic headcanons for medicine pocket x gn reader if it's okay. your recent writing was awesome!!^_^

I'm feeling good (esp bc the new update I love it) And tyty so much anon! It means so much to have my writing complimented ily >///< sorry for not seeing the request earlier! Busy busy haha! anywaayss let's get started!!!! ♡♡♡♡

Also, Sorry if they aren't to your liking!

☆ __________________________________ ☆

romantic/fluffy headcanons ♡ -

• Medicine pocket would totally be the type to do quick little French kisses all over your face and then proceed to call you moron or other rude comments

• speaking of which they would call you rude ass things, but out of love ♡ and if you obviously dont like that then they MIGHT call you traditional pet names, ex: sweetie, boo etc

• they will definitely let you play with the puppies after an exhausting day of work

• infact if you and medicine pocket lives together then beware of puppies cuddling in the bed between you and medicine pocket

• And for the anni of yall dating they will get you some cute plushies, chocolate/ whatever treat you like, and a day of cuddles, kisses, and perhaps if they are feeling fancy a little dinner date

• They also get sooo immersed into their work, so dont feel sad if they kinda ignore you or tell you to just be quiet, they need their work time okok???

• but they do find comfort into you just silently being beside them as they work, as long as you're being quiet...

• they are kinda a workaholic sometimes but they do make the time for you, whether they are teasing you, comforting you, coddling you. They make sure they spend some time with you!

• but yes most of the time they might be an asshole but hey? We still love them ♡♡♡

☆ __________________________________ ☆

I'm sorry if these aren't really romantic! I have trouble with the romance genre! Anywaaays thanks for the ask! I really appreciate it! ♡

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Alone But Not Lonely

John Mitchell x Reader

Words: 4339

Summary: Mitchell and his girlfriend finally have a moment alone after weeks of hard days at work, dealings with other vampires, and frustrating exes. Only, she’s still hesitant to take the next step because of her relationships in the past. 

Notes: Oh look, is it another comfort smut? I need to be put on a leash. 

Warnings: 18+. Minors do not interact. You know the drill. 

-

You couldn’t tell which you felt more- tired or pissed off. Collapsing onto the sofa, you buried your face in a pillow, letting the cushion absorb your frustrated groan. Like clockwork, you heard those all-to-familiar sounds coming from your flatmate’s room. 

“Christ, don’t they ever take a break?” you whined, face still smooshed into the pillow and hands clamped over your ears. 

Good for her, but you needed to sleep once in a while. 

You had two options: either put in earplugs and try- and fail- to get some shut-eye or you could go for another late-night drive until two in the morning when they would be finished. 

You had to give her girlfriend one thing, she had an impressive amount of stamina. 

A buzz on the coffee table made you lift your aching head, squinting at the name lit up on the screen. 

A small smile teased your lips. 

So maybe you had a third option.

-

Mitchell sat in the quiet, listening to the slow creaking of an empty house. George and Nina left for work for the night an hour ago. Even Annie was out, spending time at the theater or whatever it was. And while he was one to enjoy time by himself, he couldn’t help but feel, well, alone. 

So when the knock at the door came around, he jumped up with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. 

“Hey,” he greeted, grinning as he kissed you on the cheek. “Sorry for the short notice, but I thought we could have a movie night or something.”

Just seeing him made you feel lighter, more awake. 

“That sounds nice.” You smiled and stepped inside. 

Windsor Terrace had become a kind of second home for you, if not an even more chaotic one. But with a ghost, vampire, and two werewolves living under the same roof, you couldn't really blame them. 

“How was your week?” He asked, tucking his hands in his pockets.

You simply gave him a ‘look’ in response.

Mitchell winced. “That bad, huh?”

“Willow’s in town again.” You fell onto the couch and stretched out. “Which is great. I love Willow. She makes Katie happy, which is great.”

Your boyfriend raised a brow. “But?”

“But she makes her happy. Every. Single. Night.” 

His mouth fell open in an ‘O’ shape. 

“Yeah.” You ran a hand down your tired face. “Which, you know, awesome for her, but not so much for me after being on my feet for eight hours and I can’t even enjoy Miranda without learning what positions my flatmate likes!” 

His lips quirked up as he tried not to laugh. 

“You can tell what position they’re in just from hearing them?”

“With them, you can!” You exclaimed. “It’s like they’re their own nature documentarians. They fucking narrate their own fucking!” 

He couldn't stop his snickering. 

You pouted. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s kinda funny.”

You tossed a pillow at him, which he caught, still trying not to laugh his arse off. Mitchell sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

“Oh, come here then,” he said, pulling you closer. He tilted his head, looking down at you with nervous eyes. “You could stay here, you know.”

You leaned into him. “John Mitchell, are you trying to take advantage of my housing situation?”

He held up his hands. 

“I’m kidding,” you laughed, snuggling closer. “If you don’t mind, I could use a good night’s rest.” 

“I don’t mind at all.” He turned your head to capture your lips with his. “I’m sorry I haven’t offered sooner. Everything has been so-”

“Chaotic?” You finished for him. 

He gave you a small smile. “Yeah.” 

“Same for me.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Obviously, not quite the same.” 

His laughter filled the room. 

“I hope not. If any vampires come around your door…” He trailed off, not wanting to think about the possibility. 

“Vampires other than you, you mean?” You teased, tugging on the collar of his shirt. 

Mitchell grinned. “Obviously.” 

He leaned in for another kiss.

Your hands found his hair, encouraging the movement of his lips. With his arms wrapping around you, you leaned back onto the couch, accidentally lying on the remote. The TV switched on with a loud burst, making both of you jump. 

“Fucking hell,” you gasped, nearly falling off the couch if not for Mitchell’s hold. A breathy- if not a little frustrated- laugh fell from your lips. “I guess we’d better start that movie, huh?”

Mitchell sat up, pulling you with him. There was something in his smile, though. Something he was holding back. 

“What do you want to watch?” 

“Anything but Laurel and Hardy,” you said, a little too quickly. 

Mitchell’s jaw dropped. “You don’t like Laurel and Hardy?” 

“Not for every movie night!” You exclaimed, snickering as you pulled his pouting lips back to yours. “Aw, don’t be like that. We can watch something scary. Like Dracula.”

“Pass,” he huffed. 

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s full of hurtful stereotypes and bad accents,” he said. His hand fell to your leg, rubbing slow circles into your jeans. 

You laughed.

He scowled. “It’s not funny.”

You lowered your voice to mock his words earlier. “It’s kinda funny.” 

Mitchell’s eyes narrowed. He waited a breath before he pounced, fingers tickling your sides and feet and every bit of sensitive skin he could find while you shrieked and giggled and tried to push him away. 

“Mitchell!” You squealed, failing to get out from under him. “Okay! Okay! You win!” 

“What was that? I can’t hear you!” 

“Mitchell!” 

He switched tactics, changing his tickles for slow, sweet kisses along your neck. 

You stopped trying to push him off. “This doesn’t seem like watching a movie.”

“You didn’t pick one,” he hummed against your collarbone.

Melting into his touch, your fingers tangled in his hair to urge him on. “Mitchell,” you sighed, the sound very different from your pleading before. 

“Hold on.” He pulled away, turning his head. “Listen to that.”

You did. 

Nothing.

“I don’t hear anything.”

Mitchell turned back to you, grinning. “Exactly.” He kissed your forehead. “We have the whole place to ourselves.” He kissed your nose. “For the entire night.” He kissed your lips. “How does that sound?”

“That sounds-”

A shrill ringing cut you off and made your whole body tense. 

“Goddamnit.” You grabbed your phone off of the table and put it to your ear without checking the number. “Willow I’m a little-”

The voice on the other end shut you up. You froze and Mitchell climbed away from you so you could sit up. 

“Hey, Simon.” 

Mitchell stiffened. “Simon?” He couldn’t keep the bloodthirsty tone from his voice. It was an unfortunate habit when it came to dealing with your ex. 

You held a finger to your lips to quiet him and stood up.

“Yeah, I have a second, I guess.” You had to turn away from your boyfriend’s burning gaze. “You said it’s a problem with the system?” 

Mitchell ran a hand down his face as you stepped into the kitchen to take the call. 

It had been like this for a couple of weeks, even before the two of you finally admitted your feelings and started seeing each other. 

Your ex-boyfriend was now the head of the project you’d left so now he called you up all the time to tell him what the fuck he was supposed to be doing, even though you left and he left you broken-hearted and the whole mess just kept going around and around. It gave Mitchell a headache. 

He knew you weren’t thinking about going back with Simon. Mitchell never doubted your feelings for him. But he also knew what Simon had done to you, to your self-esteem and your ability to trust anyone. Including Mitchell. 

He wondered if that was part of the reason you had never stayed the night before, even though you’d been dating for a while now. It wasn’t a problem, of course. He’d never try to rush you into anything. But he couldn't help but feel like he wasn’t doing enough, he wasn’t helping you to deal with the shit of your past, to help you get past it. It still hurt you and that hurt him more than he could even try to explain. 

“Yeah. Just…” You pulled on the ends of your hair to channel your frustration into something other than throwing your phone. “Just shoot me an email next time, yeah? Great. Be seeing you.”

You hung up and tossed the device onto the table a little harder than you should have. 

“Everything okay?” Mitchell asked. 

“Everything’s fine,” you laughed bitterly. “Simon is just going to keep using me to make himself look good and I’m going to keep letting him because I’m too nice and I’m-”

“Hey,” Mitchell said softly, standing up. He put his hands on your shoulders. “You help him because you are good and he’s a prick.” 

“You’ve got one thing right,” you huffed. 

Mitchell brought your lips to his for a sweeter kiss. Reassurance. 

“Well, you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the night.” His lips curved up in a small smile. “If he calls again, just give the phone to me. That’ll shut him up.”

“Oh no,” you snickered. “You already scare him enough.” 

“Good.” 

You shook your head with a crooked grin. He ran his thumb over your lips.

“There,” he said, kissing the corner of your smirk. “That’s better.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. 

His brows drew together. “For what?”

“I don’t want to seem like one of those girlfriends who’s always making her ex a problem.”

“Your ex makes himself a problem.”

“You know what I mean.” 

“No, love, I know what you think.” He tapped the side of your head. “You’re thinking that you owe everybody something and you think if you don’t do it, then you’re the bad guy in every situation.”

You swallowed. “And you got all that from a phone call?”

He shook his head. “I got all that from paying attention.”

“Oh, did you now?” You draped yourself over his lap, your arms falling around his neck. “You didn’t even notice when I got my ears pierced.”

“That’s because I’m too busy noticing the important things?” He said, though even he didn’t seem convinced. 

You snorted. “Right, that’s it.”

He pinched your thigh and wrapped an arm around your middle so you couldn’t get away. 

“What was that for?” You squeaked, jumping up as much as you could with him holding you to his body. 

His mouth was at the back of your ear, his breath hot on your cheek. 

“For teasing me.” 

With you pressed against him, he could feel the shiver down your spine. 

The front door swung open and this time you really did fall onto the floor you flung yourself off of him so fast. 

Annie walked in, her mouth falling open. “Oh God, did I just interrupt something?”

“Yes,” Mitchell sighed at the same time your phone rang again. 

It was Simon again. 

You stood up, brushing yourself off. “I better just go down there.”

“Y/N, wait-”

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” You hurried past Annie and out the door before he could say anything else. 

Annie looked at him, then at the door, then back at him. “What was that about?”

Mitchell fell back against the couch with a sigh. “Fuckin’ Simon.”

-

He planned everything out. Well, Annie and Willow helped him, but he had the most say in the plans. From the wine on the table to the relaxing record he put on, Annie even said she was quite proud of how romantic he could be. 

“This is perfect!” She cheered. 

Willow stood in her doorway. “And I promise, you won’t see me for the next twelve hours. The place is yours.” She winked. “Just don’t make too much of a mess.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I’m just trying to do something nice. She’s had a rough week.” 

Willow and Annie looked at each other and answered in unison.

“Right.”

The two gave him one last, long glance before heading for the door. 

“Have fun!” Annie called. 

“But not too much fun,” Willow teased. “I like my furniture the way it is.” 

Mitchell narrowed his eyes and shooed her out. 

You were supposed to be home any minute and he wanted the evening to be perfect. He finished setting the table, dumping takeaway containers full of pasta onto plates and tossing the boxes, and pouring the wine before stepping back to admire his work. 

“117 and I’ve still got it,” he muttered to himself, fist-bumping the air in victory. 

When he heard keys in the door, he quickly rushed in front of it to block your view of the surprise. This, unfortunately, nearly got him pepper sprayed in the face. 

“What the hell, Mitchell?” You exclaimed, nearly having a heart attack when you saw someone standing in your flat. 

Mitchell held up his hands. “Sorry! Sorry, Willow let me in.” He laughed, though a little nervously now that you’d almost blinded him. 

Once your heartbeat returned to normal, you gave him a surprised smile. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought you could use something nice after dealing with Simon all week.” 

“How did you know that-”

“You’ve been dead tired, irritable, and avoiding me since the night he called.” He laid a hand on your arm. “I put the pieces together.” He rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “And I know what you’re thinking. Believe me, the only thing I am jealous of is that undeserving dick got to spend more time with you this week than I did.” Mitchell kissed your forehead and stepped aside. 

Your eyes widened, taking in your decorated table, the smell of your favorite pasta, and the warmth of candlelight. 

“What-” You gasped. “What’s all this?” 

“A reminder.” Mitchell hugged you from behind, kissing the nape of your neck. 

You tilted your head. “A reminder of what?” 

“That you are valued.” Mitchell kissed just beneath your jaw. “You are wanted.” He kissed the spot behind your ear he knew drove you wild. “And you are incredibly sexy.”

“Is that so?” You turned around to face him. 

“Mmmhmmm,” he hummed, putting a finger under your chin, lifting your lips to his. “And you deserve to be…” Mitchell’s eyes met yours, widening with want. “Appreciated.” 

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling and buried your face in his chest so he wouldn’t see the tears building in your eyes. 

Mitchell froze, pushing back gently so you couldn’t hide. 

“What is it?” He panicked. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“No, no it isn’t that.” You laughed tearfully, pressing your lips to his for a quick, but sweet, kiss. “I just don’t think anyone has ever done something like this for me. I’m not used to feeling,” you mimicked his suggestive tone, “appreciated like this.”

“Which is exactly why you deserve this, Y/N,” Mitchell said, laying his hands on your shoulders. “I wanted you to see how important you are to me.” 

Walking over to the table, the scent alone made your mouth water. You leaned over the plates and smirked. 

“Is this takeaway from Rossetti's?” 

Mitchell cleared his throat. “Yeah, cooking isn’t exactly my strong suit. But I put it on the nice plates!” 

“I love it,” you laughed, kissing his cheek. “It’s very romantic.”

“Annie and Willow help me set it all up,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Maybe it’s Willow’s way of apologizing for all my sleepless nights,” you snorted.

Mitchell pulled out your chair for you before sitting down himself. “Speaking of which, she is actually staying with a friend tonight, so we are completely alone.” 

Blush rushed to your cheeks under the heat of Mitchell’s gaze. 

“We’ll have to find some way to entertain ourselves then,” you said. 

Mitchell chuckled and took a drink from his wine. 

The two of you ate with pleasant conversations that avoided topics like vampires, death, and, most of all, your bastard ex-boyfriend. 

When your food was gone, you just passed the wine back and forth, letting the rich red drink help chase away any of your lingering doubts. 

You stood to clear your place, but Mitchell held up a hand. 

“Let me.” He took your plate and empty glass and put them in the sink to clean later. 

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, moving to the couch. You tried to sexily lounge across the cushions but felt absolutely ridiculous, so you just sat with your hands in your lap. “So, you and Willow plotted this together all to give us the flat for a night?” 

“And Annie,” Mitchell laughed. “Don’t forget her, she’d be crushed.” 

“Of course. She’s the whole reason we’re together.”

Mitchell took the seat beside you. “I don’t know if I’d give her all the credit.” He stretched his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers grazing your shoulder. “She just nagged me every morning until I finally asked you out.”

“Our matchmaker.” 

You both laughed and you leaned into him, laying your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you. 

“Mitchell?”

He hummed, having lost himself in thoughts of you. 

“You know that I trust you, right?” 

He pulled back. “I hope so.” 

You shifted in his embrace. “I just don’t want you to think that the reason we haven’t…” You swallowed hard, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter. “It isn’t your fault. It’s me. I just-” Turning your head away, you took a deep breath. “Every relationship I’ve been in, I either got my heart broken or I was used or both. And I’m not saying I think you’re going to do that to me. I know you wouldn't.”

“But it’s hard for you to let someone in,” Mitchell concluded. He gave you a small smile. “I know, love. I can’t say that I haven’t kept you at an arm's length myself for a long time, but I want that to change.” His voice saddened. “I don’t want to hurt people anymore. And I especially don’t want to hurt you.”

You moved closer to him again, leaning forward, your lips almost touching his. “You won’t.” 

Taking his hand in yours, you slowly moved it to the hem of your shirt.

Mitchell’s eyes held the question. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded, the word barely a breath from your lips. “Please.”

His hand slipped beneath your blouse, rough fingers tracing along your skin, splaying over the small of your back and pulling you closer. Mitchell’s mouth was on yours, soft and patient at first. 

You raised a hand to his hair, tugging gently to spur him on further. Your tongue ran over his lower lip. 

“Careful,” Mitchell growled. 

Feeling braver thanks to the warmth of the wine and his touch, you smirked. “Or what?” 

Something flickered in his eyes. Mitchell wrapped his arms tightly around you and lifted you off of the couch. 

You gasped and locked your legs around his waist. 

Mitchell carried you toward the bedroom but didn’t even make it halfway before he pinned you against the wall and buried his face in your neck, peppering every inch he could find with bites, careful to leave a mark, but not break the skin. His hips pressed against yours, letting you feel him through the barrier of both of your clothes. 

You needed him closer.

“Mitchell,” you whined, tugging on the collar of his shirt. 

He chuckled against your collarbone, pushing you against the wall even more. His jeans grew tighter, already feeling your wetness seeping into the layers of fabric between the two of you. Mitchell held you with one arm and slipped one hand up the back of your shirt, unclasping your bra with a quick twist. 

You quickly pulled off both your blouse and your bra, leaving more surface for him to continue his marking. 

Lifting you up a little higher, his mouth trailed down between your breasts. The hand not gripping your ass to keep you up reached up, rough fingertips running back and forth over your nipple. 

Your head fell back against the wall, almost knocking a photo off its nail. 

He rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb, but didn’t want to leave your other ignored. Mitchell took your hardened peak into his mouth, swiping his tongue around in circles. 

“Stop toying with me,” you pleaded breathlessly, his touch taking over any rational thought. 

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he snarked, nipping your sensitive peak. 

“Mitchell,” you whined again, pulling his hair a little harder. 

He finally broke away from the wall and carried you to your room. All the while, your lips desperately search for his, quiet moans escaping when his kisses could not contain them. 

You were so distracted by his touch that you didn’t even notice he’d brought you to the bed until your back hit the sheets.

Mitchell hovered over you, the want in his eyes accompanied by genuine concern. 

“Do you want this?” He asked. He knew about your past, how they made you feel… like you were nothing. It sickened him. How anyone could see you as anything less than the incredible woman you were angered him beyond belief. 

Lying beneath him, you tucked a dark curl behind his ear. “Every time I’ve ever been with someone, I felt like I was playing a part. I was trying to be who they wanted me to be.” You leaned up to kiss him. “You’re the first person to make me feel like… me.” Your voice cracked. “Like I matter.” 

Mitchell’s grip softened, his hand moving to tangle in your hair as he leaned his forehead against yours. 

“If I could tell you I love you all the days that I have lived and have yet to live, it still wouldn’t be enough to show how much you matter to me,” he whispered. He could still see the disbelief in your eyes, so he convinced you with a slow, passionate kiss, unlike anything you’d shared before. “I love you,” he said again. 

“I love you, Mitchell,” you breathed before pulling him back to you. 

Everything started very soft again, from his hands taking off the rest of his clothes to your fingers lightly running through his hair. But the more you moved together, the more your driving need took over your motions. 

You quickly undid Mitchell’s belt, sliding your hand beneath his boxers. You needed to feel him. 

Mitchell gasped against your breast. “Y/N…” 

“Mitchell,” you said lowly. “I need you.” 

“I know, love.” Mitchell’s fingers traced the outline of your core. “I know.”

He slid two fingers inside you, his other hand holding your hips down when they bucked up in response. 

“Fuck.”

Mitchell gave you a devilish smirk and spread them, stretching you out wonderfully. He curled his fingers and watched you writhe on the bed, panting breaths filling the room. 

“M-Mitchell.” You grinned down at him. “I told you to stop toying with me.” 

You moved your hand along his shaft, circling the tip with your thumb to emphasize your point. 

Mitchell sucked in a breath. “Well, then you have to tell me what you want.”

“Christ, John Mitchell,” you laughed. “I want you to fuck me. There? Is that what you-” You were cut off by your own moan as he pushed himself inside you. 

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he said before his lips took over yours again. 

His thrusts began slowly, letting you adjust to every inch of him. He moved in and out of you in a way that tossed away any other thought. You could only think about how he filled you so perfectly. How you’d never felt like this with anyone else. 

After a while of this agonizing pace, Mitchell couldn’t take it anymore and he knew you couldn’t either. He snapped his hips against yours, moving deeper within you than before. 

Your nails raked down his back as you bit your lip to keep from screaming. 

“Let me hear you, Y/N,” Mitchell urged, thrusting into you again. 

“John!” You cried out, feeling yourself tighten around him, the burning inside you growing more and more every time he hit that perfect spot. 

Mitchell needed to hear you like that again. He needed to hear you like that always. He abandoned his cautious pace and railed into you, the sounds of skin on skin mixing with both of your panting moans. 

You clung to him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as his cock moved inside you. Your fingers tangled in his perfect black curls. 

“I love you,” you said again, barely able to form any words with how he was fucking you. 

“I love you, Y/N. I love you.” Mitchell sped up, everything consumed by you and how you felt around him. 

With another deep thrust, the waves of pleasure you chased washed over you. Mitchell’s climax soon followed, filling you with warmth. 

Mitchell kissed along your jaw before finding your lips. He held you, still sheathed inside you, and pressed his lips to your forehead. 

“How do you feel?”

You simply sighed contently in response. 

Mitchell collapsed beside you but was quick to pull you back into his embrace. He ran his fingers up and down your spine, listening to you breathe. 

“Tonight was perfect,” you said softly.

“You deserved it.” 

“I should tell Simon to annoy me more often if this is what I get,” you teased. 

Mitchell shook his head, laughing. “I could still just get rid of him for you.”

“Mitchell!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He pressed one more kiss to your lips. Mitchell pulled away smirking. “Mostly kidding.” 

You smacked his chest playfully and cuddled up close to him. 

Mitchell whispered more ‘I love yous’ and other sweet words until you fell asleep in his arms. 

[aexolilly]

imma do all of these in one day here we go

1: trina!! ❤️❤️

2:like act 1 marvin

3:Whizzer (OMG IM SO SORRY WHIZZER FANS)

4:charlotte or cordelia

5:trindel!! 🎀

6: holding to the ground or days like this

7: what more can i say ( im so srry..)

8: anything with sill goober mendel

9:everyone hates this parents. just the song is funny to me.

10: WHIZZERS GRAVE 😭

11: Jason, his character kinda changes his perspective of love soo..

12: probably give trina a song/scene on her perspective of mendel in the first act (BEFORE PLEASE COME TO OUR HOUSE OR BREAKING DOWN)

13: mendel, i was like, he’s so silly, then i read about how he just lusts for trina and im like. OH. okay- that’s. and that’s how I changed my mind in him.

14: probably anything with like Jason since act 2 I could probably be his older friend from school or whatever like idk-.

15: def cordelia or charlotte or trina any of the ladies are good but TRINA DEFF

16:trina or cordelia (food ladies cause me love food!!)

17: Jason or maybe trina since we don’t really have much of them in act 2 but also act 1s perspective of both of them i need

18:probably Jason’s barmitzavh (srry if I spelt it wrong-) and how Jason wanted it in Whizzers hospital room.

19:Jason or anything with trina cause I am a trina fangirl- 😍🥳

20:STEPHANIE J BLOCK OBV

21: already did this with a friend who breaks down often was I’m breaking down. But for many of my other friends probably please come our house or days like this since those are bops.

22: act 2

23: trina? I’d probably talk about how cool she is

24:annie from annie, i see her being friends with jason.

25: cordelia or mendel

26: whizzer and Trina’s relationship in march of the falsettos or falsettoland (past musicals)

27: I have this on my insta “life is never what you planned, life is moments you can’t understand”

28: marvin saying “baby, you know I-“ to trina LIKE WHAT WHY ARE YOU CALLING HER BABY STILL???

29: when trina takes the photo of the rest of the people . HER LEGS JUST MAKE ME LAUGH.

Ex:

30: more children. like during miracle of judism, like the girls that get named would appear.

and that’s it for the 30/1 day challenge:)

[lowkeyremi]

Boys a liar pt 2

Anime characters I think would match w the lyrics (pls don’t come for me this is just my opinion 🧍🏾‍♀️)

CW: Mentions of breaking up, insecurity, fluff, a lil bit of angst, etc. (BEING A BAD BITCH)

Including: BNHA, Haikyuu, JJK, Demon Slayer, HxH, AOT, Food Wars, and Saiki K

“Because you only want to hold me when I'm looking good enough..”

They think you don’t find them attractive unless they’re all dressed up (BUT YOU LOVE THEM TO DEATH EITHER WAY)

↳ Kirishima, SERO, KENMA, Aran, Inunaki, GIYUU, MITSURI (yk, they used to tell her she has too much muscle to be a woman), Leorio, Knuckle Bine, MEGUMI (food wars), Ryo K, KAIDO, Armin, CONNIE

“Every time I pull my hair was only out of fear that you'll find me ugly and one day you'll disappear…”

Very insecure. They believe that you’ll leave them for the dumbest things. Constantly needs your reassurance. (Comfort your baby D:)

↳ AMAJIKI, Jiro, ASAHI A, Koganegawa, MEGUMI F, GENYA, Obanai, FEITAN, Levi, AKIRA H, Zenji M, Hairo (Saiki K), Toritsuka

“What's the point of crying? It was never even love..”

Finally over the relationship. It took them awhile to get over it but now they appreciate themselves and are happy w/o their ex :)

↳ MINA, Twice, NOYA, Yamaguchi, KUROO (shut up idc he has emotions), Nobara, TODO (I think he gets attached too quickly), Tanjiro, Rengoku, Killua, Pakunoda, Jean, IKUMI M, ALICE N, Nendo (mah baby), Rifuta Imu

“So I tell him it's one of me, he makin' fun of me.. (HA) his girl is a bum to me”

Wonders why they even dated their ex. Realized they could do WAY better (Better being you ;D) I’m telling you as soon as they see their ex’s new partner they literally can not stop pointing out how they can’t compare to them.

↳ MONOMA, Dabi, SAKUSA, TSUKKI, Mai Z, Nanami, SHINOBU, Kurapika, Bisky, Mikasa, Annie, Soma Y, TAKUMI ALDINI, Asahi S, Teruhashi, KUSUKE S

“Bet he blowin' her back, thinkin' 'bout me 'cause he know that ass fat (DAMN)”

They’re the kind of person who broke up w/ their ex and they know said ex wants them back. Anytime the ex calls they’ll show you and joke about it. They think it’s funny.

↳ MIRKO (no further explanation is needed), BAKUGO, Hinata (hear me out..), OIKAWA, ATSUMU, Geto, GOJO, TENGEN, Illumi (he’s a bitch so yes), Shizuku, Eren, SASHA (I don’t wanna hear nuthin abt this one), Erina N, Saiki, Akechi Toma (100% I mean his weird ass was trying to stalk Saiki)

“But I don't sleep enough without you and I can't eat enough without you. If you don't speak, does that mean we're through?”

They NEED you to survive. You’re their life and they get sad when you aren’t around. Get anxious thoughts when you guys don’t talk for awhile. They try to hide it but it’s obvious.

↳ Denki, AIZAWA (we have the same birthday so I would know :P) BOKUTO, Suga, Aone, SEMI, YUJI I, Mahito (he’s everything starved), Zenitsu, AKAZA (he dotes on ppl sorry not sorry… I mean he was down bad for his wife) INOSUKE (trust me on this one) Gon, Kogumi, IKALGO, KITE, Marco, Historia, YUKI Y, ISAMI ALDINI, Gin Dojima, K. AREN, Y. Chiyo

[deliciouskeys]

about the uhm meme list thing for fics…

could you do Hughie x Homelander no16..<3

Lol, sorry, this fic idea got a little bit fucked up, Anon. Hope you don’t mind Annie being in the mix. (meme link)

16. Homelander x Hughie, Mistakenly assumed to be gay

After hashtag #Homelight airs, and Annie, Homelander and Hughie have that tense exchange in her Vought tower apartment, Hughie gets worried about Annie, and rather than just fucking off to Russia, decides to meet with HL without her to negotiate that the FBSA will lay off investigating Vought and Hughie won’t go out in public with Annie when she’s recognizably Starlight in exchange for HL not fucking with her and keeping the PDA to a minimum. He arranges to meet HL in a public place (for safety). HL is amused by the entire notion that Hughie has anything of interest to him that he can leverage and agrees to meet for what, in his mind, is a complete joke of a negotiation.

What neither of them anticipates is how much public and pap attention they end up attracting when they meet in public. What was going to be a quick conversation in Washington Square Park suddenly becomes tabloid gossip fodder for why Homelander is meeting Starlight’s ex in front of a fountain, and quickly devolves into juicy gossip that all three are involved in a ménage a trois or something equally bohemian. #Homelightbell starts to trend more than the original, Vought-approved hashtag.

HL is really annoyed when he realizes this rumor has gone viral and wants to clarify to the press, but the Vought PR team advises that it’s best not to acknowledge even knowing about the rumors by denying them. Meanwhile, the Boys find this turn of events absolutely hilarious and Billy is determined that Hughie needs to capitalize on this by threatening to fan the flames of the rumors unless HL keeps his hands off of Annie. Hughie isn’t particularly looking to incense HL, but he does get bolder about visiting Vought Tower and spending nights there with Annie. HL gets fed up with these power plays from a puny mudperson though, and one night just waltzes in through the door while they’re having sex. He thinks he’s going to stand there and make them uncomfortable but Annie is also fed up and tells him to leave, since he’s too straitlaced to join in. HL’s like… “what if I do join in”, and Hughie’s kind of terrified and questions why Annie even brought that up as an option, and Annie’s like “Because I’m sick of both of you trying to decide things behind my back and doing your stupid little power games over me!”. … and a very weird sex scene ensues that nobody wanted but both men deserve.

[princessanneftw]

Sorry, Charles, but the answer to everything is Princess Anne

By Deborah Ross for The Times

This week, a royal quiz because, come on, you thought you’d get away without one? This week of all weeks? And if you actually did think you’d get away without one, and I don’t mean this spitefully, aren’t you somewhat dense?

However, in the light of the no-fluff, no-nonsense interview Princess Anne recently gave to Canadian television and all the admiration that unleashed, and in my belief that you don’t like to be overstretched on a Thursday morning, particularly as some of you are still recovering from the news that Jacob Rees-Mogg finds broad beans “loathsome” — it isn’t yet known what broad beans make of him; I will ask next time I push one to the side of my plate* — I have decided to make this easy for you.

The answer, in every instance, is “Princess Anne”. Again, I don’t mean this spitefully, but if you get one wrong you will have no one to blame but yourself.

● Who is the best king we’ll never have, would have been known as “King Anne I”, and would have told those Repair Shop people to “just get on with it” and stop blubbing all over the place and let me know when you’re finished as I have to go kick ass and am behind with kicking ass as it is? (“I get up at 4.30am to kick ass but the day runs away with me all the same, Jay.”)

● Who was not their mother’s favourite child, which, to quote Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, proved “a big mistake. BIG! HUGE!”?

● Who sits somewhere between Kate being marvellous (and “dazzling”) for just wearing a dress and Meghan being an evil bitch and the new Stalin simply for adopting a different hairstyle?

● Who has never, ever suddenly adopted a different hairstyle and therefore can’t be either an evil bitch or the new Stalin?

● If someone attempted to kidnap you on The Mall and you thought, “What would a royal do in this instance?” which royal would most spring to mind? Particularly if you wished to tell the kidnapper, “Not bloody likely.”

● Ranking them in order, which royal do you suspect rolls their eyes at Fergie the most?

● If you had to bet on one royal retaking America, who would it be?

● Which royal was never dubbed “Randy Annie” or “Air Miles Annie” because they never adopted the kind of freeloading, entitled, licentious lifestyle that would one day bite them on the arse and have them running to Mummy?

● Who, of all the family, do you suspect most often swears like a sailor under their breath and would smoke Woodbines, if they smoked?

● Which royal would be most likely to run over Paddington in their Range Rover and not look back?

● Who demanded that titles weren’t conferred on their children, saying they’d have to earn their own money, and also, chances are, campaigned, albeit unsuccessfully, for Princess Eugenie and Princess Beatrice to get married at Hackney Town Hall followed by Nando’s?

● If a royal were to meet Greg Davies in a post-performance line-up, who would be most able to think up a brutal snub along the lines of, “A lot of ex-teachers become comedians. I can’t see why”?

● Which royal most probably inherited their mother’s Tupperware and will keep it going for future generations, thereby ensuring no royal cornflakes ever go soft?

● Which royal could probably get a potato to peel itself and leap into hot fat just by looking at it?

● Who sliced and diced Cherie Blair at Balmoral in 1997 by refusing to call her “Cherie”, as requested, and instead said, “Let’s not go that way. Let’s stick to Mrs Blair, shall we?”?

● Which royal taught their mother to use Zoom during Covid — “you should have six people on your screen . . . you don’t need to see me. You know what I look like” — but probably gave up on teaching her to text, like we all do, so no judgment there?

● Which royal probably couldn’t be bothered to even get their mother started with online banking?

● Who has inherited a look that amounts to wearing a headscarf tied under the chin like an old Greek lady guiding a donkey down a lane with a stick?

● Who has a look that, for some reason, never sells out everywhere the next day?

● Which royal did The Crown reveal to have been an absolute goer in their youth?

● Which royal did, in fact, have different hair as a young child and looked the spit of Harpo Marx?

● Which royal once reportedly said of Princess Diana, “I will not be pushed around by that brainless woman”?

● If you had all their numbers, which royal would you call if you needed a chicken’s neck wringing?

● If you had to come up with a royal who once appeared on Wogan while looking for all the world as if they’d prefer to have had their head on the chopping block like that other Anne, the Boleyn one, who would that be?

● Which royal do you most imagine would give you a horsewhipping** if you didn’t close the Tupperware properly, thus failing to maintain its airtight seal and letting the cornflakes go soft?

● Which royal has best withstood all the scandals as well as their own divorce and has provided so little grist for the newspapers we might as well all just go home?

● Which royal kind of reminds you of Willa from Succession, who sees everything that goes on in this family but knows if you get too involved you’ll be torn apart and fed to the wolves?

● Lastly, of all the royals, who would you name as the one who actually gets what being a royal is all about?

(*Funnily enough, I did push a broad bean to the side of my plate just now and it said: “The feeling is mutual”)

(**Or a savaging from her dog Dotty)

[icysinner]

influenced — chapter three | choices. click the pics for better quality.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: sasha decides to join her two friend groups, thinking everyone will just be friends.

𝐍𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: LOL SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

warnings: jean being a questionable character.. SMALL mention of violence

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ᥫ᭡ 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 ᥫ᭡ 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀

-ˏˋ 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄. ˊˎ-

・・・・☆・・・・

at this point, everyone had seen the picture of annie and jean, including you. while it was nonsensical to be mad, considering you and jean weren’t together in any way, not even as a situation-ship. it bothered you a little bit, as it would anyone who had a crush on someone and they were still cool with their ex. it only messed with you just because jean would crucify you for being cool or even talking to floch again.

“you okay?” connie asked immediately after you answered the phone, causing you to sigh, “something has to be wrong? i can’t just call my friend?” you asked, your tone showing faux positivity, knowing connie could probably see right through you. “because any other time you want to just talk, you just call. what’s wrong?” he replied, still clicking things on his editing software. “um, i’m a little messed up, i guess.”

connie knew what the call was about the minute you asked to call him. he wasn’t an idiot— and he also knew you better than you thought he did. “jean?” he asked, to which you nodded. “i don’t know, i feel like i have no right to be upset because we aren’t together but at the same time, that’s a little fucked up, isn’t it?” you confided, a small sigh coming afterwards. “i feel you, i really do. i hope you aren’t losing sleep over his dumb ass, though. you know he just does shit before he thinks.” connie said, making you crack a small smile. “i’m not, but i also probably could if we’re being honest. i just don’t know how to go about the whole thing.” you said with a shrug. “i think you should just talk to him, you guys are friends after all, regardless of if there’s other feelings attached to it.”

connie was right, and that truth was unpleasant. you didn’t want to talk to jean about this situation, it made you feel all gross on the inside. you and jean were always complicated, and with the knowledge that there was no established relationship, not even an established connection, you had no interest on making yourself look crazy for not wanting him to be close with his ex girlfriend.

[lynderman]

The party lights were bright and shone through the more secluded hallways of President Snows’ mansion; flashing colors mixed with fireworks. Although, it’s not like you could see them much. What with the tears that don’t go away no matter how hard you blink and wipe at them. The cheers and applause of capitol citizens’ being drowned out by the shouts and arguments of you and your boyfriend. Ex boyfriend? Friend? What was he at this point?

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so upset! What did I do?!” Even as he glared down at you with suck ferocity, Finnick Odair was still as handsome as ever; which made this more difficult. “What did you do? Run off with Annie again!” He scoffed as he pinched the bribe of his nose. “Again? Really? This- we’re doing this right now?” “We wouldn’t be doing ‘this’ right now, if it weren’t for you!” You motion between the two of you, mimicking him. At the party tonight, you’d come with Finnick. As his date. Not Annie. But you. Yet like every other time, he ran off to her. It was like he’d lost interest in you completely! Years of friendship and romanticism down the drain! All because of-

“You! We wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you, not me.” By now he was a lot closer, your bodies touching as he shouted at you. Avoiding eye contact, you wiped your tears away for what seemed like the hundredth time. You’d never say it to his face; especially not now during this argument. But he was right. It was partially your fault. You can’t blame him if you did it first. “You can’t do this every time. For fucks’ sake, you left me first! Alone. In the village. After I told you how I felt. And what? You just say nothing and walk off? Come to my house the next morning like nothing ever happened? No! We can’t keep doing this. Going back and forth.” Your heart sank at his words, knowing this was a never ending game of tug of war. One you’d most likely never win. Finnicks’ lips pursed and he ran his hand through his hair, you still refusing to meet his gaze.

“I only left because I didn’t know what to say! I didn’t-“ “It’s not that hard! You either tell me you feel the same or you don’t, it’s as simple as that!” “No, Finnick! It’s not!” He laughed as he shook his head. “It was a lot to take in is all. After my games, my family-, there was so much stuff going on! And I didn’t want-“ “To what? Reject me nicely? Hurt my feelings? Tell me that-“

“To open up, Finn! To tell you I do feel the same. I have for so, so long. Before my games, before you won, before everything! But I was scared to open up. I didn’t want to lose you too. And now I have because I didn’t know how to properly express my feelings. Again. I know it’s a cycle, and I want to break it-“

He looked conflicted but also weary. Out of habit, one of your hands cupped his face; Finnick instantly melting into your touch. “I’m sorry, Finnick. I really am. Maybe if we-“ His hand gently removed yours from his face, folding it over your heart. “Don’t look at me like you’re sorry. You’re not. If you really were, you wouldn’t have waited this long to tell me. You would’ve treated me better too.” He gave you a parting smile. One filled with sympathy and pity but you didn’t know if it was for you or himself. As he walked down the hall and back to the party you realized something.

Finnick was never the person at fault. You were. It was always you.

[seancekitsch]

could I please request a hughie campbell smut? with the reader being morally gray (kind of like billy) but hughie being kind of her soft spot + some smut with bottom!hughie + some of the boys teasing reader for having a soft spot for hughie

okay its not explicitly smut but its def heavily talking about the smut happening idk i think it works but i did not follow the prompt well i am sorry for that

It’s not that Hughie tries to eavesdrop, really, it’s not. But none of his friends are exactly subtle unless their lives depend on it, and even then that’s not always a guarantee. 

It starts when he hears Annie drag you aside when they’re all drinking at the flatiron building. It’s only two months after she moved out all of her stuff from their shared apartment to her dream one. The one on her vision board from her teen years. 

“Look, this isn’t because I’m his ex,” she starts, and you nod before sipping your beer, understandingly, “But Hughie?”

You smile at the mere mention of his name. 

“I mean, I thought him and Butcher would get together before you and him.”

It’s then that you splutter against the rim of your bottle. 

“He’s not- We’re not- not yet I mean but-“ you can’t find the words. Hughie finds it adorable how flustered you can get, it’s just rare someone other than him can make you this way. 

“It’s okay,” Annie tries to soothe you, “I give my blessing. You know I love you both.” 

Hughie figures this whole exchange makes sense. Annie loved him with her whole being for two whole years, she knows him better than most people, the only other person being Robin. She knows what he looks like when he’s falling for someone; he’s just happy she’s still looking out for him. Another act of love. 

Hughie closes his eyes in the elevator. 

“Fuck yeah, babe,” you whine, thighs straining as you push yourself up and down on his cock, your hand wrapping around his throat. 

“Please,” you beg, but for no one. Hughie has given you full control in this situation. He wants you to take what you want from him and he gives it all so willingly. 

The ding of the elevator snaps him from his memory. 

All of you are already arguing in what is the makeshift meeting room, with you and Frenchie arguing both verbally and signing to keep Kimoko up to date when your mouths move faster than she cares to read. From what he can see, you and MM are covered in blood and mad as fuck about it, with Butcher and Maeve charactersitically nonchalant about it, but Annie, Frenchie and Kimoko being upset for you. 

“C’mon you can’t be mad at me for my methods, Bill,” you exclaim, “You’re the one that taught me!” 

It’s clear immediately that you and MM are mad for different reasons. 

“I’m not mad at that, its just, do you have to make such a fuckin show of yourself?” Billy relents.

“Show? Show?! You’re kidding, right?”

MM stops his raving to listen to you. 

“You’re the one that sent me and M in there and told me to act like a supe. You practically begged me to make a show. You wanted me to do that.”

“You fuckin told her to do that?” MM shouts, and the fighting begins again. 

Hughie clears his throat and tries to break the insane tension. 

“Lets agree to give everyone the intel next time?” he offers, knowing it lets you off the hook and gets everyone to stop screaming. 

You immediately move a bit closer to him, whispering a thanks before you slink off to clean your face. 

Kimiko approaches Hughie almost immediately after. 

‘Some blood on you too’ she signs, and at his confused look, she presses her thumb to his neck and rubs it slightly. When nothing comes off on her fingers, her eyes widen slightly. 

“What?” Hughie asks, but Kimiko only smiles as her eyes widen further and she runs off towards Frenchie. 

It wouldn’t be until he got himself into the bathroom later that he would realize there was a monster sized hickie on his neck. 

The rest of them realized when Maeve finally said something. You had walked in like normal, fifteen minutes and thirty agonizing seconds after Hughie just like normal. Your black eye hidden by big sunglasses anyone else would assume was for a hangover and a tray of Starbucks in your hand as you strut comfortably into the building you used as headquarters. Your ride up the elevator was uneventful, thoughts of the bruises on your inner thighs caused by Hughie and not at all by anything nefarious. You shifted carefully on legs still sore from riding him all night as the elevator opened again. 

“And Hughie’s owner finally arrives!” Maeve shouts, the heat draining from your face. You step out of the elevator before it brings you back down again to see Hughie pale as if the pigmentation of his skin left him completely. 

“What?” Maeve asks, fake shock on her features, “Like we didn’t all know?”

Annie and Kimiko share a look, they know, of course they did. Butcher is the first to react.

“You two?”

“Really?” Frenchie asks, but its all in jest because its clear Kimiko filled him in. 

“Never thought you’d go for crazy," MM remarks, but then shrugs as if he's had his own thoughts on this all along. Hughie take you in like its the first time seeing you again, removing your sunglasses to reveal swollen and punched eyes and wounds definitely inflected on you by someone else that a Forensic Files episode would tell you were made in defense of their life and he can't think of anything more beautiful despite how fucked up it might be.

"I've got your coffee," you announce, not at all reacting to anyone else in the room, your eyes trained only on Hughie.

[agirlwithbigdreamsforher]

I'M NOT HER!

THE NANNY: ONE SHOT

I’M NOT HER!

Pairing: Andy Barber x Annie Johnson (OFC)

Summary: Andy makes the mistake of comparing his current wife with his ex.

Warnings: Language.

A/N:  HAPPY 2024 EVERYONE!

Word count: 1175

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

GIF's not mine, you can find the credits in the bottom of the gif :)

                                     ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

It’s been a couple of weeks after Annie was told she was expecting their first child. And so far it was a nightmare. She didn’t understood why they were called morning sickness since she felt sick all day long. She couldn’t eat anything and Andy’s perfume made her sick as well. The poor guy had to stop wearing aftershave because she will gag and then ran to the bathroom. And on top of that she was exhausted all the time. She even had fallen asleep once during her lunch break at the Children’s Cottage, if it wasn’t because her boss walked into the teacher’s launch Annie would’ve stayed asleep.

Andy walked into the room carrying a glass of water after Annie threw up for the third time of the day.

“How you feeling?”

“I wanna die. The room is spinning.”

“Hehehe. It’ll pass. It’s so weird, Laurie was never this sick, I never saw her throwing up. Not even once.”

“Lucky bitch.”

And so it began, no matter the symptom, no matter the situation Andy always mentioned Laurie.

“You know when Laurie was pregnant, she had these crazy cravings. Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything? Maybe ammm pickles with Nutella?”

“I just threw up breakfast! So no, I don’t want to eat! And don’t you ever mentioned that combination. You know I hate pickles!” She gagged, “Oh God!” and then ran to the bathroom again.

“Sorry, honey!”

It was a slow afternoon, Jake was lying on the floor of the living room drawing some things, while Annie was resting on the couch.

“Mommy?”

“Hmmm?” Annie was spend, she could barely kept her eyes open.

“You wanf more warer?”

“No, I’m good. Sorry for throwing up in front of you.”

“S’ ok.”

Jake still didn’t know Annie was pregnant. She was determined to hide her pregnancy for as long as she could to make sure everything was perfect with their child.

“Honey?” Annie felt a soft stroke on her cheek, “Honey?” Andy said in a sing like voice, and soon after Annie opened her eyes. “Hey.” A soft “hi” came out of her mouth, “Jake said you threw up.” She nodded. “Are you feeling better now?”

“I’m not having nauseas, but I’m tired.” She yawned. “Where is Jake?”

“In his room. You think you can eat a bit?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s just saltines, but it’s better than nothing.” Andy passed a small plate with saltines, a glass of iced water on the coffee table. Annie was about to bite the cracker when Andy spoke “I remember when Laurie was pregnant, she could…”

“Ok, I’m done!” She said putting the saltine back on the plate.

“What?”

“You keep doing it!”

“Doing what?”

“Comparing me to Laurie!”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! I’m not her! I’m sorry if my pregnancy is not being as smooth as it was for her, but I’m fucking done with you always bringing her up!” Andy remained silent, “Oh Laurie never had morning sickness. Laurie could eat everything she wanted. Laurie could fly around the world in a fucking minute while doing the laundry and dinner. Well I can’t! I feel like crap! I’m exhausted, I’ve thrown up 5 times today! I’m carrying your child and the least I except from you is not to bring your bitch of an ex to my pregnancy!”

“Ok, how about if we calm down…”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

“Honey, this is your hormones talking…”

“Don’t! Shut up! I hate you!”

“Honey!”

“I hate you so much! You are an asshole! And if Laurie is so fucking great why don’t you come back to her!”

Annie walked away from Andy and hid in their bedroom. Andy stayed in his spot, rubbed his temples and waited for 5 minutes. He stood up and went to their room. When he walked in Annie was fully sobbing, flushed face, snot coming out of her nose.

“Oh, baby.” Andy walked and sat on the bed, “Come here.” Annie sat on his lap “I’m sorry.” Andy hugged her and stroke her back softly. “I’m sorry for comparing you with Laurie, I didn’t notice I was doing it, I swear.”

“Is she better than me?” Annie said in a whisper.

“Of course not, honey. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” Annie was still sobbing slightly against his chest, “I won’t do it again, I promise. And I understand why you’re upset, I wouldn’t like it either if you compare me with Daniel.”

Annie took a deep breath, the musky smell of his perfume made her run to the bathroom and at this point she was just throwing up water.

Andy sat on the floor next to her, rubbing circles on her back until she was done.

“I…” she took a breath, “sorry.” Andy just smiled at her, but that smiled faded when she began to cry again.

“Tell me what’s wrong?”

“I am so hungry.”

“Tell you what. We will try with the saltines, and if you feel sick again, maybe we should go with your doctor.”

“Ok”

“Alright, up we go!” Andy took her in his arms and put her on the bed, “Be right back, ok?” She nodded meekly.

When Andy came back she was sitting against the headboard drifting off.

“Honey?” She opened her eyes and smiled. “Open your mouth.” She did and bit the cracker Andy put in her mouth. She moaned at the flavor. “Good, small bites.”

Annie took the plate off of Andy’s hands and kept eating the saltines until the plate was empty. She then took the glass of water and took a small sip.

“How you feeling?”

“Good. They were delicious. Did Laurie used to eat that too?”

“No.” Andy scratch his head, “I was talking with the guys today during lunch and I told them you had the flu so Anthony told me his wife ate saltines and cold water when she was sick, so I thought maybe you could eat that too.”

“You talk about me at work?”

“Well, yeah. I was worried about you, honey.”

“Aw.” Her eyes filled with tears, “That’s so sweet.” And then she began sobbing, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

“Nothing is wrong with you.” He hugged her until her crying stopped. “Your body is going through major changes right now, so no need to apologize.”  

“We are having a baby.” It was more than obvious that the first trimester was going to be though but then she thought about the baby she was carrying and smiled. It was worth the trouble.

“Yes, we are.” Andy gave a peck on the lips. “Get comfortable, I’ll change my clothes and then we can rest.”

Andy stood up and walked toward the closet. He was about to opened it when he turned down and saw Annie was on her side completely out, slightly snoring, definitely a first. He laughed a bit and shook his head before walking into the closet and change his clothes for the night.

[my-dark-lord]

Hi! I wanted to ask, is there a way to read more about your ocs in hellaverse? I just kinda like other people ocs very much lol

Hey! I'm so sorry this is running so late, Nonny, I meant to reply sooner than this but I tend to get distracted super easily. I've got the ADHD pretty bad and in my past life I was the goldfish that made scientists think they all had five second memories.

At any rate, I have quite a few Hellaverse OCs! A lot of fankids and then quite a few surrounding Ozzie or Valentino. I've been working more with the ones that deal with Val, lately, which are mostly Darío, Ostello, and Anya!

The main OCs I have are Ostello, Anya, Darío, Ozzie's Parents (Abstemiounessa and Valore), Archangel Uriel, Leviathan, Magpie, Vick, and then a few others that I don't do much with. I also have fankids but that may be for another time.

I literally just reworked Ostello's bio and took it from 364 words to 1,101 words and updated a lot of information that had become wrong as I wrote him. Anya recently got upgraded from OC that I didn't really do anything with to OC that I'm using a lot more.

They're all on my RP blog, @e-m-p-error, though a lot of them need a little reworking. For now, I can share Ostello and Anya's info here! I've been working on them most recently. Ostello is Valentino's ex-husband and Anya is his Personal Assistant!

It's under a cut for length. Ostello's info is LONG. All art by me.

Anya

Human Name: Anya Kazlow

Name In Hell: Anya

Nicknames: Annie Baby, Yaya

Faceclaim: My/Friend’s Art

Original Universe: Mainverse

Age: 30 (When He Died); 37 Years Dead

Birthday: April 30th, 1956 (Taurus)

Deathday: December 5th, 1986

Height: 6'8"

Gender: Cis Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual Bimantic, Ambigamous

Species: Gorgon Sinner

Snake Color: Red and White

Eye Color: Pale red sclera, bright green irises

Occupation: Valentino’s Personal Assistant

Headcanon Masterlist

When Anya was alive, she worked in a veterinarian’s office that saw a lot of exotic pets owned by bad people. There were all kinds of things that she had to overlook in her line of work, including humans that had bullet wounds or other such injuries. She doubled as a nurse when she had to, and learned how to take care of human and animal injuries alike. Always having been nurturing and gentle, she was well-loved by the Russian mafia in her town in Belarus and ended up getting married to a lower-ranking member after tending to him for one summer.

She was shot on their wedding day when a rival cell infiltrated the wedding and killed as many of the people there as they could. She died holding her lover’s hand, and vowing revenge. This never came to fruition.

Meeting Valentino not long after she fell, Anya was hired on to be his PA after she ended up gentling him through an injury that he obtained in a turf war. She happened to be there at the time, and he decided having a medically minded personal assistant would be a good idea. She sold her soul to him, and being an important member of his team, she was given the golden tooth that Angel Dust and Val both had. She is in love with Valentino, but he only sees her as a friend. She’s mostly okay with this because it’s worth it just to be near him. It is her job to handle most things that Vox doesn’t handle for him. This can be anything from cast lists to work schedules to bartending if he needs someone to cover a shift. If Val needs it done, she’ll do it.

Her snakes are Frog Eating Rat Snakes, and because of this, they have bacteria in their mouths. If she bites you, it is an immediate, violent, and disgusting case of leprosy that can kill in minutes. She has only ever bitten three people, and she usually doesn’t, but she will absolutely do it if it is necessary.

Anya is very nosy and always likes to be up on the latest gossip and whatever juicy things are going on around Val. She will pry into his business while she takes care of him while he’s drunk so she is abreast of the latest drama.

Ostello 

Human Name: Oscar Lawrence

Name In Hell: Ostello

Nicknames: Tello, Baby (Valentino Exclusive), Broadway (@strangeandun-muse-ual’s Vox Exclusive)

Faceclaim: My Art/Al Pacino

Original Universe: Mainverse

Birthday: January 21st, 1899

Human Deathday: May 3rd, 1944

Demon Deathday: February 9th, 1980 (Assassinated by Val with a Holy spear)

Age: 45 (When He Died As A Human); 36 Years Dead (When Killed By Val); 80 Years Dead (In Heaven)

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Homosexual Homoromantic Ambigamous

Species: Badger Sinner

Height: 6'8"

Relation: Valentino’s Ex-Husband (Widowed)

Occupation: Overlord, Pop-Jazz Singer, Arms Dealer

Headcanon Masterlist

When he was alive, his name was Oscar Lawrence. Oscar was the son of Ruth and Samuel Lawrence, their only child. Marty was his father’s best friend, his right-hand man in the fire department, and his wife’s affair partner. Oscar knew about the affair for approximately a year before his father died on Christmas day when he was ten years old. A year after his father’s death, Marty was his stepfather, and while he never held any express animosity toward him, he never called Marty his father. His mother and Marty had two kids together who were twelve and fourteen years younger than he was, and he was never particularly close to his half-siblings.

At seventeen, he had dropped out of school and gone to work in a club in Omaha. He was discovered singing one of the numbers from a nightly show while cleaning by his boss, who loved his sound and gave him his own attempt at playing a show one Saturday night. For starters, he did a few covers of things that he had heard and ended the night on a song he’d written himself. His lyrics were filled with a longing he became known for, a desire for something he could never have. It became something that was so Oscar Lawrence to long, to pine so genuinely and openly that it was impossible to separate from him. So much of his music was about barely scraping his fingertips against the thing he longed for, and nobody could ever quite get out of him what it was.

When he was twenty, he met Olivia, his wife-to-be. She fell for him, hard and fast, and he never felt much. But it was a suspicious thing for a man his age not to have a wife, and he liked Olivia enough to live with her. Oscar was rarely home, out touring and recording a lot, but at twenty-one their daughter, Gertrude “Gertie” Rose Lawrence was born. He rarely saw her, and when he was home, he was usually sad and drunk. Gertie doesn’t remember much of her dad, but his biggest sin with her was neglect. He never rose his hand against her or her mother, and he was never particularly cruel.

However, he did cheat on his wife. Often while he was on tour, he could sleep with any woman that wanted him in ways he found impossible to do with his wife at home. Like many singers of his time, he also had a stage presence on the silver screen. Much like he found many temporary replacements for his wife, he found a semi-permanent replacement for his daughter as a mentor to Shirley Temple.

If there was something as Oscar Lawrence as pure, unadulterated longing, it was a desire to run from what he did have with that same desperation.

His biggest sin in life was that he was gay in a time when that was very highly frowned upon, and it was a well-kept secret. Nobody knew about it, and he never once acted on it while he was alive.

When he died in 1944, it was a slow, painful, and disorienting death alone in a hospital half a country away from his family. His wife and daughter flew out to see him just in time to say goodbye, and he couldn’t recall who they were. He died of acute liver failure that had progressed under the radar of his manager who had been busy working him through the holidays.

Olivia sued the company for negligence that led to her husband’s death, and she and Gertie continued to never want for anything but the man whom they owed their cushy lives to. Neither could say they knew him before he died, and after they would know him even less.

Oscar sort of expected to fall into Hell, and when he did, he was unsurprised. For a few months, he just tooled around, feeling out his new abilities and appearance as a badger. He discovered early on that he had pyrokinesis and it was something of a novelty for a while.

One night while walking the streets and experimenting with it in the lonely hours of the morning, he gave a fireball too much juice and shot an Overlord on her way back from a big deal. He didn’t expect it, and it led to a huge fight between the two of them in which Ostello accidentally became the victor. It was a hard fight and when her gun was knocked from her hands, he managed to grab it in the ensuing wrestling for it. Unbeknownst to him, it was loaded with holy bullets, and ended in her demise.

Her attendants, who had scattered during the fight, came to him to tell him that he was now in charge of her territory as long as nobody else took it, and he took the responsibility fairly seriously. This didn’t stop him from pursuing a musical career on top of the weapons dealing, of course, but it was somethingi that he did want to do to the best of his ability.

Ostello, as he eventually renamed himself, became a rather beloved fixture of the Pentagram. He was hard to upset and treated his workers with dignity and respect. They were paid well, especially those who gathered holy metals during the Extermination, and he never went so far as to treat any of them cruelly.

He worked with Alastor to produce radio shows and sang live several times for him. When Vox eventually came around, Ostello left Alastor’s employ to work under a label that Vox owned. He performed for him there, with concerts and other such things, until the day he was killed. His music is still fairly popular and played in several Voxtech buildings.

In 1972, he met Valentino, and in two months married the moth. He was a devoted husband who wanted nothing more than to make his wife happy, and he spent the next eight years absolutely enamored by him. However, Valentino had never really been in love with him, and in 1980 used a holy spearhead pilfered from Ostello’s own armory to kill him.

Due to his love for Valentino driving him to be a much, much happier and better person, when he died he was reincarnated in Heaven. He dislikes Heaven very much because he misses Valentino and was reunited with Olivia. He does not know that Gertie is in Hell. He has been watching Valentino in Hell for years and is abreast with the latest things going on in his life at all times.

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Solar Opposites in Mighty Solars Issue #4: “Fighting for Family” Ch. 4

A Week Later…

Miss Frankie is waiting for someone like Jesse did in the Wooden City episode while looking down depressingly

Monique: Hey Frankie! Saw the court vid! You doing good?

Miss Frankie: Don’t care.

Ms. Paris: Congratulations on getting your ass kick.

Miss Frankie: Go fuck yourself.

Then, Miss Frankie sees Principal Cooke and Ms. Perez with Kevin, Jamie, Darcy and their friend Trevor as she waves at they head over there.

Miss Frankie: Wait. Darcy?

Darcy: Hey Frankie. It’s been awhile since graduation from college.

Miss Frankie: Sorry I was late. I had a court day.

Jamie: Court day? What happened?

Principal Cooke: No need for us to tell her. We saw Frankie on the video getting arrested after calling a judge a bitch, a big fucked up bitch and nothing but a bitch!

Kevin tries not to laugh.

Miss Frankie: She couldn’t handle that she literally sucks fat shit! Now I gotta wear this! shows them a device on her foot Plus, I’m in a boat load of car rent because of my stupid fucked up car!

Ms. Perez: We’re so sorry…

Trevor: Man that is fucked up. Sorry to hear about that. Also, I’m glad you guys came to my girlfriend Louise’s cafe. You already known her since middle school, like we did. Right?

Miss Frankie: Yeah, we did.

Ms. Perez: Yeah. Poor thing has been raising her daughter for 4 years since her wife Maude passed away in the car accident. I’m glad she’s doing better.

Then, the adults sees Phoebe walking with human Yumyulack and Human Jesse. Human Yumyulack however is depressed about something.

Principal Cooke: Yumyulack?

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: What’s wrong Yummybear? You look down in the dumps today.

Human Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: Oh, I changed my name into Baxter Cool to make myself stand out at school, but it turns there is a kid named Baxter Badass. So, now those guys call me Baxter C. and then Mark recognize me.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: How?

Human Yumyulack shrugs.

Human Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: I don’t know. I guess the voice is a dead give away and… suddenly sees Stacy G, now a teen waitress Holy shit, is that Stacy G of the Stacies?

Human Jesse is confused but looks and blushes.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Holy shit! What happened to her? Her hair is now tanish brown instead of red and is all puffy and what happened to her looks? She looks like Keri Russel from the Waitress movie.

Human Yumyulack: I don’t know but we should talk to her.

Phoebe MacCarthy: Must’ve realize that her friends are a toxic influence. Glad you kids don’t hang out with those mean kids.

Then, while writing down an order, Stacy G sees Human Jesse and gasp as she drops her journal. Stacy G then looks lovingly at Human Jesse as a romantic pinky background appears. Human Jesse goes up to Stacy G.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Hey Stacy G. It’s been awhile since you’ve been in the woods searching for Slender Man.

Stacy G: Yeah, I kinda lied about that. I just need to get away from my ex-friends.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: What?! You hate being a Stacy?

Human Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: But why?

Stacy G sighs.

Stacy G: When I moved here two years after my other mom Maude died, I tried making friends and when I heard two girls Stacy K and Stacy F are a duo, I decided to join them. But I was wrong. They were jerks. They were even mean to unpopular girls. The last straw came on Valentines’ Day. The Headphone Guys and Stacy K and Stacy F teamed up and played a mean prank on me saying Annie wanted me to be my Valentine but it turned out to be a mean prank… that got cockroaches to fly out. After I got heartbroken, I found out the Stacies replaced me with Stacy H and I decided to not be friends with them anymore.

Human Yumyulack starts crying.

Stacy G: Are you crying?

Human Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: A little. sniffs

Phoebe MacCarthy: Hey there. I’m Phoebe MacCarthy. I’m the kids’ nanny.

Stacy G: Oh hey. So, I’m going back to school in two weeks. But, I will no longer be with the Stacies. And luckily I can still work on Tuesday, Thursdays and Sundays.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Oh my god. I am so sorry. No wonder you didn’t came to school the other day during the fungus thing. You were trying to make friends, but it ended badly. It broke you heart, didn’t it Stacy?

Stacy G nods and sheds a tear.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Well, I would like to be your friend.

Stacy G: You do?

Human Jesse giggles.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Of course. You deserve a real one, plus I think Monica would like you too. sees Janice and Randall walking towards the grown ups Holy geez, is that Randall?

Randall remorsefully comes up the grown ups while Louise sees her old friends and her boyfriend.

Randall: Hey. Guys. It’s great to meet you guys after all these years.

Jamie: No way! Randall?!

Randall: Uh hey uh guys. I wanna say it’s nice to meet you all, and I’m sorry for turning into a psychopath that hates children, got greedy for money and for nearly killing one of neighbors Korvo-

Kevin: It’s okay man. No big.

Jamie: Yeah. We heard about the new stand. Nice business.

Principal Cooke: Wait. You almost killed Korvo?!

Randall: I’m sorry! The last few years have been hell for me ever since I had a horrible Halloween as a kid! I really do have problems! cries hysterically while Janice comforts him Also, I didn’t mean to try to kill my neighbor.

Janice: H’no, it’s okay, y’know.

Trevor: Yeesh. sees Louise heading outside Oh hey baby.

Louise: Hi, Trevor.

The couple kiss while they then see Phoebe with the human Replicants.

Louise: walks over to Stacy G while Monica arrives Hey sweetie. Glad to see you patching things up with your classmates.

Stacy G: Thanks, mom.

Miss Frankie: So why do you wanna meet here?

Jamie: Oh. Something about the Solars turning human, also Quasarblast decided to take a break after that stressful ceremony. Glad he deserved it. I saw his text. But it looks it’s up to us guys.

Darcy: We also saw Terry as a human at our dinner party

Suddenly, Human Terry appear.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Huh? hides behind the wall but then receives a text from Pupa Aw man, another dog refuses to fuck? How dare they? Coming Pupa!

Stacy G: Wait, what? No way, Jesse and Yumyulack Solar? Is that you what happened?!

Human Yumyulack and Human Jesse awkwardly look at each other.

Human Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: Long story. But, I think we should go looking for Korvo. He’s been gone for a week.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Yeah. I think he still feels pretty bad about a something lately.

This gave the adults an idea.

Principal Cooke: That’s it! Korvo! He can help us! He can invent something to stop La Smaragdus!

Darcy: But isn’t Korvo still mad at us for the past things we did to him?

Randall: Aw cheer up guys. I’m sure he’s changed back by now. I bet he’s home right now.

But when the grown ups along Human Yumyulack, Human Jesse, Stacy G, Monica and Phoebe arrived home, they see dogs all over the place.

Principal Cooke: What the hell? Why are there dogs everywhere?!

Human Jesse: Sweet grapes!

The group head inside and gasp upon seeing the dogs while Human Terry is in a pimp outfit and counting down money next to human Pupa with a security guard. A dog took the device off of Miss Frankie, who scream a bit.

Phoebe MacCarthy: For God’s sake, Terry.

Security Guard: Hey! Humans are not allowed in here! I keep telling you, this is a brothel for dogs!

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Hey, man. It’s cool. I know them.

Then, a space mound spider came and starts sucking on the man who began to feel relax.

Jamie: It’s okay Terry. We know it’s you. And we won’t tell anyone over something your husband doesn’t want to tell us.

Human Terry smiles.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Actually I have been wondering where Korvo is. Can you guys go find him, while the kids and I check the neighborhood?

The grown ups thought about it.

Three hours later…

Cooke, Frankie, Perez, Jamie, Darcy, Kevin and his family, Randall, Louise, Trevor and Janice arrived at Night Club with sexy people. Music in background:

Kevin’s Wife: Woah. What the fuck is this place?

Waitress: The Earth-4 Night Club. A place for the grooviest fucking sexy people alive.

Jamie: I believe you are describing me. Darcy slaps him on the back Sorry honey.

Darcy smiles then the grown ups and two kids walk by the place while looking around.

Principal Cooke: What the fuck is Yumyulack and Jesse’s dad doing at a fucked place like this?

Kevin: Maybe he turned human and he is like a sex dancer or something.

Human Korvo: offscreen Well well well.

All: Huh?

Ms. Perez: What?!

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: My human neighbors and mortal enemies. What a surprise.

Principal Cooke and Miss Frankie: Korvo?!

Jamie faints while Kevin’s wife drops a glass of wine in shock. To everyone’s shock, Human Korvo looks different. He is now wearing a ponytail with a hair tie with an emerald on it that looks like his robe crystal, he is wearing icy blue lipstick makeup on his lips, his ruined robe is now fixed and turn into a suit jacket, his Shlorp boots have been turned into lady high heels and he is now wearing a black shirt with a purple word that says “Bitchin’” on it. Music in this background:

Janice: H’no, you turn into the most gorgeous human we have ever seen y’know.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: Aw, thank you.

Jamie: Damn, what happened to you? You look different, especially with your new clothes.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: Not bad right. It’s been a good couple of days. So I probably bet you’re here to say I told you so about being a human.

Darcy: Damn. You’re hot.

Ms. Perez: What?! No! We actually need your help Korv-

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: It’s Korey.

Miss Frankie: What? Why the human name change? And…. Oh… it’s you and your new family’s civilian identities huh?

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: Yes and… suddenly realized what they said You guys… need my help?

Miss Frankie: Yes! Terry needs you!

Principal Cooke: Yes! Quasarblast is not here! He’s on break! We gotta create something to stop La Smaragdus- hears a gasp

It turns out Human Terry, Human Yumyulack, Human Jesse, Human Pupa, Phoebe, Monica and Stacy G have arrived as they ran up to Human Korvo while Human Terry kneels down in recoiled shock.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: K-Korvy!

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: laughs nervously Hey, Terry.

Principal Cooke: Uh Terry, we can explain.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: You never looked more beautiful!

Human Korvo blushes. The two husbands then kiss while Human Korvo picks up Human Terry and carries him while kissing.

Stacy G: Wait, that’s Korvo? How?

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Uh…

Human Pupa Solar-Opposites: Korvo! hugs Human Korvo I miss you.

Human Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: No way! You look hot! Where have you been K-Dog?

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: Well…

Later, while Human Korvo was buying a new bus turned into a space ship…

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Wow. That explains a lot but it’s okay honey. You’re beautiful both Shlorpian and human to me. I still can’t believe you got caught up on the biz like I did.

Human Korvo however is still remorseful for making his family worried sick about him.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Are you really upset about the whole thing?

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: No. Not the fact that we can shapeshift into humans now and can’t walk the Earth as aliens anymore. But, it’s because I didn’t tell you where I was and made you all worried about me.

Human Terry sighs.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Aw, it’s okay Korvy. We know why you did that.

Human Korvo smiles.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Yeah. We’re really glad you got into some human culture.

Human Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: We’re just glad you’re alright.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Plus, is it true that you miss us?

Human Korvo starts sobbing.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: sobbing It’s true. I’m so sorry Terry, I got caught up with my new look and-

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Aw Korvy. hugs human Korvo while comforting him and soothing him Shh… it’s okay… I’m here.

Human Korvo keeps sobbing as mascara runs down his face and blows his nose into Human Terry’s shirt.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: There. Let it out honey. soothes Human Korvo’s face in a comforting manner

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: smiles Oh Terry, I love you. Also, I’m so grateful you all came for me. Thank you.

The two human husbands kiss. As they keep kissing, the kids, Phoebe, Monica, Stacy G and the other human adults hug the two husbands. Then, Human Korvo sees Stacy G and grows confused.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: Who’s that?

Louise: Oh, that’s my teenage daughter. Stacy G.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Hi!

Stacy G: Hey. So, what’s the plan Mr. Opposites?

Human Korvo then got an idea as he makes a genius smirk.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: I think I just came up with one. the group then huddle together Now, here is our plan.

Special thanks to @avaveevo, @asikreading, @themagicwolf6677, @king-of-squishmallows and all of my watchers for their ideas and support.