#and then later on in my life i came to terms with the fact that was bi | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foldingfittedsheets · 5 months ago

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I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.

I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.

This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.

Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.

But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.

Here’s who was on the dating roster:

• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.

• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.

• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.

And finally,

• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.

So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.

Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.

She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.

“Do you want it?”

“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”

But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.

So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.

I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.

I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!

What about the table?!

“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”

Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.

There on my doorstep. The table.

It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.

“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.

“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”

“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”

“Make me an offer.”

I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.

This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.

“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.

I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”

They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.

But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.

“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.

With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.

It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.

So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.

I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!

Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”

I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.

For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.

Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.

It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”

“Did you like it?”

“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”

My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.

Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.

“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”

“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.

So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.

#ramblies #funny #ffs foibles #dating #the table #writing #story #funny story

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hedgehog-moss · 2 months ago

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I usually buy one stere of firewood per year, one and a half at most, but this year I saw an ad at the farm store promising a discount if you ordered 5 or 10 steres and I thought, well, I have a brand new wood shed, so let's go, five steres, why not!

Then a big truck came to my house and threw up this lava flow of wood in front of my shed and I realised that my mental representation of 5 steres, in terms of volume, was a bit off.

But that's okay! My friend D. was coming to visit. She's very convenient to have around in early autumn because she enjoys the real-life Tetris aspect of stacking wood—not only that, but she's uncannily talented at spotting blackberries, and September is blackberry season. (I do also invite her in other seasons so she doesn't feel exploited for her gifts.)

I was a bit concerned about the wood-stacking part of her visit though, partly because of the truckload of wood awaiting us and partly because this year's wood is completely shapeless and looks like whimsically sea-sculpted debris from an ancient shipwreck.

(On the left: the pretty logs that /I/ cut, which are shaped and easy to stack. On the right: the nonsensical wood that I bought.)

(My friend saw this and almost went on strike. She was like, "Not a single log has a shape that makes sense with the others... it sucks. That's not Tetris 😠") (Me: "Think of it as having reached a higher, more challenging level of Tetris." Her: "😠")

On top of that, because of the cold and rainy summer we've had, blackberries were very scarce this year, like everything else. Brambles are so ubiquitous in my woods I used to think I would always get more blackberries than I know what to do with, but last month I actually had to go look for them which I'm not used to doing. Every fence is usually covered with blackberries in September, and in some parts of the woods there are hazel trees taken over by brambles so that blackberries are dangling in front of your face temptingly and you don't even need to bend down to pick them. But not this year.

I feared this visit would be quite disappointing for D. if the wood stacking and the berry picking were less fun than usual—but the fact that blackberries were much harder to find than the previous years made her amazing berry-dar all the more necessary and appreciated, and she enjoyed our blackberry hunt. We'd get lost in mazes of giant broom bushes and I'd be like, let's go somewhere else there are no blackberries to be found here, and she'd stop dead and go, "Here!" And here they were!

I don't know how she does it.

One fun thing that happened is that at one point, while D. was somehow finding kilos of blackberries in a field I'd already searched two days before and which had seemed empty of berries, I wandered away into the forest to photograph some pretty mushrooms. Then I heard a strange bird call which, when I looked up and paid more attention to it, sounded more like my friend calling my name from afar. I figured I was being called out for getting distracted from the berry harvest, so I returned to the field. She was crouching down at the other end of the field with her back turned on me and didn't look like she'd just called me.

Half an hour later, when it was getting dark and we were about to go home, she told me, "Hey, did you have something to show me earlier? When you were in the woods." Me: "No, why?" Her: "You called my name."

...

Me: "I didn't call your name. You called MY name." On second thought, she said that it sounded quite shaky and high-pitched, not like my voice, more birdlike. Me: "I initially thought it was a bird too!" Problem: our names sound nothing alike.

We stood there mystified for a minute, wondering if there could be a bird capable of articulating both of our names, or if it was some other animal or thing that somehow knows our names. (We were quite sure there were no humans in the area, because Pandolf is very good at sensing nearby people and always wants to go say hi to them.)

We looked at the woods, then at my car parked nearby, then went, "Okay! Time to go home and never investigate this further 😊"

My friends are a good influence on me—there were people a bit concerned about my sanity in the notes of that post where I talked about going out into the woods at night because something was screaming, and I think they'll be happy with the moral of this story! We went home and sat by the fire eating blackberry tart and talked about what a great decision it was, all things considered, to not try to figure out what sort of creature wanted us to wander deeper into the forest at dusk. The end.

#crawling along

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moonlightcycle571 · 1 month ago

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The JL fight a magic user who casts a spell on everyone where their biggest weakness will be displayed above their heads. If Batman takes notes later, then that’s not on him.

There’s the predictable ones like Hal where it says ‘Yellow’, Clark says ‘Kryptonite’, and Martian Manhunter ‘Fire’.

But then there’s the one where you need to interpret like Flash halving ‘Bound’, the Hawks having ‘Clipped’ which pertains to their wings or even the ‘Pride’ on Doctor Fate.

What’s weird is that Batman and Captain Marvel of all people have the same word:

‘Adoption’

Little does everyone know that it’s for two entirely different reasons. Batman can’t help but adopt. Batson doesn’t want to be adopted.

No one knows Captain Marvel is secretly a kid, so everyone thinks he’s like Batman, but just doesn’t adopt (or thinks Freddy & Mary or the Vasquez kids are actually his if they are in AU). But for the sake of comedy, let’s not have them.

Batman thinks there is some kind of kinship, and asks how he battles the urge to adopt? Captain Marvel is trying really hard to not run away (he doesn’t want to get adopted, especially not by Batman, the puns enough are going to be atrocious).

It would look something like this:

Bruce: and that’s how I got all my kids. Or at least most of them. I’m not sure if technically family friends count, but they still got their parents, you know?

Billy, does not in fact know: yeah… darn those parents ammi right

Ollie, wondering if they should put Cap in the JL parent group: oh, do you have any kids?

Billy: oh no, I can’t (Cue misunderstandings)

Bruce: I understand the urge to adopt is real, good on you for not giving in. We live a dangerous life style

Billy: We’ll we can’t help the fae brain

Bruce: the what?

Billy, he just heard the term before and thought it was the common word: you know, when you just want to keep and raise a kid for yourself

Bruce, thinking of the numerous tales of witches and fae using first born children as payment only to realise it’s their way of adoption: … huh

Billy, just wants to escape and hug his tiger: oh it’s really fine. Anyways I need to bounce, but we’ll see each other on Mondays meeting

Proceeds to ruffle everyone’s hair (he can’t help it, he’s taller than anyone and enjoys the feeling of ruffling hair instead of having his hair ruffled)

Batman: oh OH

Cue most misunderstanding where they think Marvel mentally adopted them. They all have daddy issues anyways, so it really shouldn’t be a surprise when they try to be the fae brain favourite.

HAHA YOU THOUGHT YOU WERENT GETTING DAD MARVEL, BUT JUMPED ON THAT BANDWAGON THE SECOND IT CAME OUT

#billy batson #dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #batman #bruce wayne #JL #JL: is this a new father figure?#Billy: I’m nine years old :)#Captain Marvel is everyone’s dad #adoption as a weakness #Billy straight up refuses to be adopted #so the magic powers of SHAZAM made him into the ultimate Dad #even funnier if Billy looks like his mom so no one makes a correlation between him and Marvel

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dreamsteddie · 1 month ago

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Once Steve and Eddie come out to the broader world, Eddie's floodgates open, and before interviewers can even think to ask about his "long-term partner and love of my life" Eddie starts gabbing about Steve almost as soon as a microphone is put near his face.

At first, Eddie refuses any and all requests to be on talk shows or long-form interviews. Steve himself has no desire to be interviewed ever, and Eddie wants the media hype to die down before he makes any big appearances off the stage. He knows that if he does the conversation will be a glorified investigation into his private life no holds bared.

So Eddie takes the occasional question after a show or on the red carpet but always dominates the conversation and finishes quickly. He's always dropping little tidbits about Steve, even if it's just talking about whether or not he was able to make the show or how handsome he looks in their matching outfits today.

Once the hype dies down and the media vultures aim their beaks at another celebrity, Eddie agrees to do a couple of talk shows with the rest of the band.

Everything is normal. The focus is on their next leg of the tour and the music video they released last week that went viral. Right up until the last three or so minutes when the interviewer asks, kindly, how his boyfriend Stevie is doing.

Stevie.

As in Eddie's Stevie.

The name only Eddie and Robin have ever called him. The name that used to make Steve flush so pretty when they first started drifting together. The name that still makes Steve give him one of those pleased little smiles that make his heart pitter-patter in his chest years later.

Eddie's hackles are immediately raised at the audacity of this stranger to talk about his boyfriend so familiarly. His shoulders rise, eyes narrowing ready to say something scathing when the rest of the band notices and steps in. Jeff drops a not-so-friendly hand on Eddie's shoulder while Freak steps in to very loudly tell a funny story about the last time Steve joined them on the road. Emphasizing "Steve" a little too much as he does.

When Eddie finally gets to stalk off stage he's let himself get worked into a tizzy. Logically, it's not a big deal but Eddie has always been territorial when it came to Steve and has been even more on edge since they came out. The idea of anyone outside of their family acting like they know them, know him, just because he's married to Rockstar Eddie Munson and shows up in the occasional gossip rag makes him so fucking mad.

As soon as he's backstage he's dialing Steve's number, impatiently running one hand through his hair as the phone rings and rings. As soon as he hears the beginning of Steve's standard WASPy "Hello, this is the Harrington-Buckley residence, Steve speaking" greeting Eddie launches into a long rant about "the audacity of media vultures."

Steve doesn't say a word the entire time, just letting Eddie vent out his frustrations. At the end, Steve lets the silence linger for a little bit before speaking.

"Hey babe?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"I don't know how to tell you this but you've been referring to me exclusively as 'Stevie' since we came out. I'm pretty sure when we made the announcement you said 'This is my Stevie. He's been my partner for six years.'"

".....what?"

"In fact, I'm sure that's exactly what you said because Robin replaced all my nametags at work with ones that said 'My Stevie' because she has the sense of humor of a middle schooler."

"God fucking damn it!"

They hang up not long after. When Eddie looks up for the first time since he dialed Steve's number he's met with the rest of the band and their personal crew all wearing various faces of exasperation.

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, he rocks on the balls of his feet and says "Sooooooo...I may have overreacted."

----

The next day, despite Eddie's hopes that his outburst wasn't that noticeable, his clearly irate face is the subject of every magazine and gossip rag at the grocery store.

Robin frames her favorite one and gives it to Eddie for his birthday.

#steddie #rockstar eddie munson #steve harington #eddie munson #fanfiction #robin buckley #platonic stobin #I need a platonic ship name for Eddie and Robin too #don't like any of he options I'm thinking of tho #dreamer speaks

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celuere · 19 days ago

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I want you all over me.

pairing: feixiao x fem!reader

context: feixiao having never experienced a single mating cycle in her life was always something she has been relatively relieved about. That is until she met you

cw: feixiao has a dick here because I said so, breeding, mating press, feral feixiao, HSR didn‘t have any lore on how Foxians reproduce so I had to get creative, story takes place after she wiped the floor with Hoolay, biting

First work on my iPad with the new bluetooth keyboard I ordered, truly a life changer. Not even my fever will stop me from writing Yuri. and also huge thanks to Ray for helping me with the gradient, not all heroes wear capes. Some of them are axolotls!

NSFW utc, MDNI!

Have you ever wondered if Foxians can enter a heat? Well, they do. Just not the way you think. There are a lot of factors that play an important role in a Foxians heat cycle.

For once their relationship status is a strong factor. Are they single, taken or even married? Are they happy in said marriage? Do they want to reproduce with their partner?

Then there is their age. A first Foxians heat cycle is usually triggered in the late 20s, some may experience it earlier, some later. There are even recordings of certain individuals not experiencing a single mating process in their entire lifespan, simply because they didn’t want to, have never found the right person and variety of other reasons. A Foxians urge to reproduce along with the frequencies of their cycles may decrease with age.

Now, once having lived through a mating cycle you are considered „Mature“. No, it doesn’t refer to your mental capabilities, it‘s simply the medical term for Foxians that can reproduce. Because until you didn’t live through at least one of these unbearable cycles, your ability to reproduce is -so the doctors call it- sleeping.

In the young days of the Xianzhou, where arranged marriages were still a thing, a certain medicine was to be used if one or both parties weren’t already mature to trigger their first heat, so they may produce an heir. That was until said medication was banned for good.

Once mature you only develop a steady, balanced heat cycle that may only occur when you’re in a happy, fulfilled relationship. A few may live through it two times a year, others every two months or even just once every year.

And during the actual thing? Unless not separated from their s/o, Foxians become extremely grumpy and frustrated, it‘s better to not bother them during this time. Just avoid them all together. They reach their breaking point once they’re reunited with their partner again. Be sure you won‘t be leaving the house or rather the bedroom for the next two or three days.

Feixiao usually was never bothered by the fact that she didn’t mature yet, never once was it a problem for her. Quite the opposite. Seeing how her Foxian friends and coworkers seemed to disappear off the face of society for a good few days actually relieved her. It meant no interruptions in her training schedule and left no room for distractions.

That was until you came along.

At first the general didn’t think much of it when you first started dating. She‘d touch herself to the memory of you, how good you‘d took her cock into your wet pussy last week, moaning and clawing into her trained shoulders as you begged for her to go faster. To fuck you harder.

She first didn’t think about how annoyed she got over the week because of the smallest thing, recruits being stupid, Jiaqou annoying her, she even gave Moze a whole earful when he tried his luck on her again. Only feeling better during the mornings and evenings she‘d spent with you in her arms.

It reached a certain point on a Friday Night. Jingyuan sent her home after she almost lost her shit at Hana because of a simple misunderstanding from her side.

„Come back once you’ve calmed down.“, he said.

The funny thing? Nobody was angry with her. Not Jingyuan. Not Jiaqou. Not Moze. Not Hana. Nobody. Everybody already knew what was going on with the Merlin‘s Claw. Except for the poor woman herself.

Or you.

Once Feixiao opened the door to your shared home and inhaled your scent, it‘s as good as over for the both of you.

Poor you was just dusting off the shelves in the living room when your girlfriend practically threw herself right at you, hands clawing your shirt and pants right off of your body. Even your underwear covered too much for her liking.

Her body felt too hot. The general had the impression she‘d burn to ashes from the inside out if she didn’t bury her already throbbing cock inside your cunt within the next moments.

„F-Fei, what- Hah!“, a bite mark on your most sensitive part on your neck never sounded better to her.

She needed you carnally. Fucking wasn’t enough. She needed to breed you throughly until neither couldn’t think straight anymore. Until all that’s left inside of your spent pussy is her cum.

„Quiet, darling.“, leaving your neck with a mark that will surely take on a pretty purple color during the next few days. Goodness, she might as well died without the tightness of your cunt.

In between the fog of clothes flying to the floor, sloppy kisses and Feixiao‘s growling right into your ear, you didn’t even notice when exactly she shoved her length into you. Suddenly she was all over you, inside you, digging her claws into your skin so she could drag you on and off her cock in a faster manner, soon forming creamy ring around her base that drove her close to madness.

She wanted nothing more right now than for you to carry out her babies, the sheer thought only fuel to the fire that’s seemingly devouring her from the inside.

She didn’t try to angle her hips to hit your weak spot better, she didn’t care how you’re supposed to cover up the bite marks on your neck and shoulders, not even your beautiful tits were spared of her teeth.

„Fckin‘ take my cock into that pussy… g-get it all i-in there…“, she‘d mutter as she watches you melt over her for another time, your mixed juices oozing out on the sides whenever she‘d fuck back into you. That sofa will probably have to be replaced when she is done with you.

When your legs were pressed up against your chest that was probably the moment your soul disconnected from your body. Her using you more or less as a personal fleshlight was more than you could ever handle, even when she fucked her third load into your cunt, you just hoped she would keep on fucking out her heat with you.

If every cycle felt like this for her, Feixiao could only pray to Lan to be blessed by this amazing occurrence once every month. The warming sensation of your pussy tightening around her dick every so often, those pretty moans spilling out of your mouth with each time she rolled her hips against yours, only adding to the already torturous pressure against your cervix. She could go on like this for days.

There was one time where she accidentally slipped out when pulling back, never in her life did something piss her more off than seeing her dick outside your cum-filled pussy. Her hands immediately went back around your hips and then she pushed herself back in. With one, smooth thrust you welcomed her back inside your warmth, that absolute guttural moan the both of you let out was surely to be heard outside by any random passerby.

But don’t think she will be done with you after a day. She‘ll make sure you fall asleep with your pussy warming her dick and she‘ll make sure you also get to wake up with it, only so she can mess you up all over again.

Maybe being mature isn’t so bad after all.

#honkai star rail #star rail #hsr #feixiao #feixiao x reader #hsr smut #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #feixiao smut #hsr fanfic #xianzhou luofu #hoyoverse #x reader #yuri

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thedivinetarot · 2 months ago

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Talk to me in songs and poems

10 facts and more about your fs | pt.1

☆ How to chose the perfect pile for you?

- Close your eyes and take a deep breathe. Ask the question I your head, open your eyes and the picture that you can't look away from is your pile.

☆ Note:

- This is a general reading, use your own discernment when judging the accuracy.

- This is a short mini reading. I may do an extended one or pt. 2 later.

- This is a future spouse reading which means that it is not applicable for crushes or someone you are briefly dating and if you want to do it on your long term partner feel free but I don't guarantee that it will be 100% accurate.

- Can be applied on a future lover too.

Pile 1 - The corpse bride

1. This person is very active. He could move a lot, work out a lot, or he could be an athlete. I see a constant movement from this person. Also he could walk fast, faster than normal.

2. This person get overwhelmed so quickly and the funny part is they cannot focus on more than one task and get distracted easily. He gives me an ADHD vibe. So, they may have ADHD.

3. This person is indecisive, it take them forever to make a decision which can be good or bad because they overthink everything. And because they see the good and bad in every option.

4. Your person is unbalanced when it comes to giving and receiving affection/ emotions/ gifts/ and other stuff. They either give too much or doesn't give at all.

5. They are tall and scary. They might have anger issues or get angry very easily. I see that this person is a catalyst of change or they might have changed a lot physically or mentally throughout their life.

6. This person is very emotional honestly, I see someone who is kind, sweet and caring towards others but they doesn't know how to show it in a balanced way.

7. This person have a big family or he came from a very strong/ rich or wealthy family. I see also that their family are very respected from people in the country they live in.

8. They are very successful but they kinda show it off and brag about their success in arrogant way. They could be arrogant too.

9. This person is pessimistic. They doesn't know how to be optimistic at all. It is like they have a different point of view than the people around them and because they overthink it, they doesn't feel good about it. There's a lot of emphasis on "what ifs" in their mind.

10. This person is family oriented. They are the perfect husband/wife material. They dream of having a family on their own and they are so excited about it.

Bonus: they lives far away from you and they travel to work or to their home. Could be in travel (from state to state) or out travel (from country to country).

Pile 2 - Blue moon

1. Lives near you. Or in the same state. Could be your neighbor too. I see that he tried to travel for work but it didn't last at all and he got homesick and returned.

2. Very diplomatic and 'demure'. He doesn't like conflicts and always try to avoid them.

3. Is very emotional. Idk why I keep picturing a blonde, white, and an overweight man in my mind eye. This person is cute or look cute and cuddly too.

4. They are very nurturing, if they are identified as masculine; he doesn't feel ashamed of taking care of others. And if they are identified as feminine; then they are very in their feminine energy.

5. This person is intuitive too, I'm picking up on the mbti INFP, ISFP, INFJ, ENFJ, ENFP, ISFJ too.

6. This person is very spiritual, I'm sensing major pisces placements. This person could be a wizard or a witch. They could read tarot and practice divination too. If not then they may be interested in those things (even if they are not a practioners of it).

7. This person have a very interesting point of view. I see that they see things from a different angle which cause others to misunderstand them and their intentions.

8. Despite this person's sweet personality or look. They have a dark side that they keep to themselves. I see that they might have been a drug addict, alcohol addict or other some type of addiction that I couldn't put my finger on. Could even be sex? Or masturbation? Maybe.

9. This person is very vital, they could blush quickly or their face get red easily. I see also that their voice can be rough and loud in an annoying way.

10. This person is active too like pile one. They may walk fast, talk fast or work out to keep fit even if they are obese or overweight.

Bonus: They were dating someone but they broke up with them. This incident was close in time like 2 to 4 months ago. I'm not seeing something deep at all. Could be a fling or a hookup.

Pile 3 - Blue butterfly

1. This person is an extrovert. I see someone who party a lot but from time to time this gives them anxiety so they isolate themselves from time to time.

2. This person is a huge believer in twin flame, they might be manifesting their twin into their life.

3. This person is spiritual too. I see that they are into psychology, inner child healing.

4. This person could mirror you a lot. Could be good or bad, so if you want them in your life you need to be better yourself in order for this to last.

5. Your future spouse is you twin flame, this came again while I'm channeling the facts about them.

6. They are very childish and innocent. And if not they can impulsive and carefree of the consequences of their own actions.

7. They are really a hard worker. Could be a workaholic too. I see that they are working on their finances so when they meet you they can wife you up.

8. This person is a busy bee. They are constantly working and juggling things. Could be a great multi-tasker too.

9. Their family traditions are very important to them. And they get very defensive when someone point out anything wrong with their family traditions.

10. This person is defensive. And also argumentative. They only want to prove that their opinion is the only right one.

Bonus: They are on their healing journey towards you. I see that also they can be a slow/smooth talker or walker. I see also that they do not hesitate to walk away when things are not working the way they want. They abandon their projects easily too. They could breathe loudly, or make a loud voice when they inhale.

Pile 4 - White swan

1. This person is an atheist. Or if not they might not have a religion or not into spirituality or doesn't believe in that "crab".

2. They are that one hot sexy fucker that fuck around with no commitment. And if not then they used to be like that before meeting you.

3. This person is very blunt, harsh with words and even abusive, be careful of their rage. They have a nasty energy. I smell something not pleasant at all. They could be clueless about hygiene.

4. This person is broke. Financial and in other areas in their life. They could also use their attractiveness to their advantages to use women's money. Again be careful, you don't have to keep up with that.

5. This person got disappointed and if not so they disappointed a lot of people in their life. Especially their family. I feel like when you get to know them, they will complain a lot about how unsupported they are.

6. I see that they always daydream about being successful, independent, and the boss but they do nothing about it honestly. Like there is no serious steps to be like that.

7. They have daddy issues, even if they are a male. Their father; might have left them which caused them to be heartbroken.

8. This person is a player. I see that they use people around them to their advantage.

9. I see also that at some point they learned from their past mistakes. They want to be a better person. I see that they might travel to another country to work on themselves.

10. This person when you meet them they will be in a better place. The previous facts might be from their past and they feel so ashamed of what they have done.

Bonus: He could be in a poly relationship or like poly relationships, or they date two or three people at the same time. Major womanizer vibe. Even if they change; they still are attracted to the opposite sex like crazy.

29th of sep/2024- Sun

* Feedback is appreciated

#free divination #free tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot community #divination #divination readings #metaphysical #occult #tarot pac #witchy #witchblr #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarot cards #pac future spouse #future spouse

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 4 months ago

Text

How OP men would react after finding out you have an aggressive stalker || Shanks and King

some maritime terms I used

"This is my fault," you mumble, looking morosely at the charred remains of the ship's cargo and the apron.

"What?" Shanks asked incredulously.

Tears came to your eyes as you confessed that you've had a stalker, Charles, for several years. Charles had forced you into a life of piracy just to escape his unwanted and increasingly violent advances after he burnt your house down.

Shanks felt breathless, he had had no idea that you went through anything so horrid. To him, you had always been so cheery and carefree. "Wait, didn't you say your pet died in a house fire?" He mumbled. You nodded your head, avoiding eye contact with your captain. Rage filled Shanks's chest, not only had this bastard, Charles, burnt the only cargo the crew could afford at the moment, but he had hurt your pet and forced you into a dangerous profession just to escape him. Shanks put his anger aside because he could see you were clearly scared of this man. "What's he look like, Love?" He asked as he tucked a knuckle under your chin and tilted your head to look at him.

After you gave Shanks your stalker's wanted poster, he assigned Benn to stay by your side, just in case your stalker came back. Meanwhile, Shanks and the rest of the crew combed the island for Charles. They eventually found him holed up in a sea cave only a mile south of the harbor, where the crew grouped up and descended upon him. Rockstar and Yassop threw Charles at Shanks's feet while he thrashed and yelled, "Leave me alone, you bastards!"

Shanks leaned down from the rock he was sitting on, grabbed a fistful of the stalker's hair, pulled him up to his face, and quietly growled. "Do you know who I am?"

Charles curled his lip in mock disgust and sneered, "Someone in desperate need of a breath mint." His retort earned him a swift punch to the jaw from Shanks, who reiterated his question. "Do you know who I am?"

"Red Haired Shanks," Charles submitted, going limp on the ground, "An emperor of the sea."

"Uh huh, that's right, and it seems you've been giving my crew mate, and good friend, a hard time." Shanks replied, "And I'm here to put a stop to that."

Charles lunged at Shanks and screamed, "They're mine! Not yours! I will have them even if it's the last thing I do!"

After easily batting away Charles's hand, Shanks hummed, "Is that so?" as he pulled his sword out of its sheath.

Shanks returned later that night with enough Berry to replace the cargo and still have enough left over to give you a month's worth of your usual pay.

It was the Fire festival again, which meant all the Beast pirates, from near and far, flocked to Wano to party at Kaido's place. While most of the crew loved this time, you did not love it, because it meant he'd be there. The Wano's minister of commerce, Yukimaru, was one of Orochi's entourage and your stalker. He always got way too grabby with you for your liking. You thankfully only saw him a few times a year, mostly for work.

"You don't look happy," King noted.

You glanced up at him and grumbled, "You usually don't have a problem with my unhappiness, you delight in it, in fact."

King fiddled with his cuff links and huffed, "I only delight in the unhappiness I cause."

"Good to know," you chuckle.

King crouched down to look you in the eye, and said, "I am concerned because everyone loves the fire festival, even I kind of like it. But you seem too eager to return to your room tonight, which isn't like you because you are normally more excited about parties than I am. Something must be bothering you, so spill it so we can party."

You sighed and told him about your problems with Yukimaru, even confiding in him about how Yukimaru had cornered you and ripped your shirt before last month's finance meeting.

"So the rumors are true, then," King muttered to himself, rubbing his chin and explaining, "I heard a few of the servants talking, one of them claimed Yukimaru was pursuing someone, who was rejecting his advances. Another servant claimed that when Yukimaru heard of this person's whereabouts, he'd always race there to meet them, even if they didn't want to see him. One of them even claimed that Yukimaru has a reputation for violence and coercion in the Red-Light District." He hummed for a moment, before turning to the Mary next to him and ordering her to tell Yukimaru to meet the two of you in his office.

"Why would you do that? I just told you I didn't want to see him!" You snap, outraged that he'd tell your stalker where you were.

"Unfortunately I can't kill him based on your word alone, so I'm setting a trap, now wait while I hide in the closet. When he comes and misbehaves, I'll stab him." King clarified, before tucking his wings behind him as he wedged himself into the wardrobe behind his desk.

Shortly after, you heard Yukimaru thundering down the hallway. Each footstep filled you with dread because the man terrified you. A moment later, the door slid open and Yukimaru self stepped inside. Yukimaru was a head shorter than King, and a great deal taller than you. He gave you a toothy grin, and said, "There you are, I've been looking for you. The Mary said King was here." Sauntering towards you, his sharp eyes devoured you.

"... He stepped out for a minute." You replied, trying to resist the urge to run for the door as Yukimaru plopped down on the couch beside you. Your will remained strong until he put his arm over your shoulders, without thinking you bolted for the door, only to be pinned down to the floor by the large man. "Where do you think you're going? I just got here, why don't we play together while we wait for your boss to come back?" Yukimaru trailed his fingertips along your shirt for a brief moment before his body was ripped away from yours with a swift kick from King. He pointed his sword at Yukimaru's chest and said, "Go enjoy your party while I deal with this trash."

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #king the conflagration x reader #king one piece #king the wildfire x reader #akagami no shanks x reader #red hair shanks #red haired shanks x reader #shanks x reader #shanks #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #no beta we die like men #7/14/24

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samkerrworshipper · 4 months ago

Text

rockin’ around the christmas tree

alexia putellas x reader, alexia putellas x putellas!child x reader

fun fact my least favourite holiday is christmas and i don’t really celebrate it at all! but the request i got for this was so cute so i pushed down my inner grinch because i just had to! i’m sorry to any spanish people who don’t celebrate christmas this way lol i tried my best xo

Growing up, christmas had looked a lot different for you then for most kids.

You didn’t grow up in a house were Christmas was really celebrated, most of the time, your parents worked through the day, and you’d be left home alone with you older brother.

On the good years, you’d get a present, but most years all the money that could have been christmas presents was put into the football budget, or into buying you a second hand pair of boots so that you didn’t have to play through the winter with holes in your shoes.

You never really minded, you didn’t grow up in a family where christmas was something your parents could afford, and you’d come to terms with that, it was more important that there was food on the table and money available for football fees then christmas trees or gifts.

That’s why you struggled with it all.

Alexia had grown up in a house where Christmas was everything you could have ever wanted, christmas lights, dinner with the family, as many presents as she asked for, a big tree, everything traditional that made the holiday everything it was made up to be.

Alexia had been the first person to show you what Christmas could look like, your first christmas together had been an.. experience.

When your girlfriend of six months at the time had found out that your plans for christmas included staying in your apartment and watching whatever crappy christmas movie re-runs that the television was showing she’d been distraught. It had taken a lot of you reasoning with her to explain why you didn’t feel the need to celebrate as extravagantly as other people. You were happy to spend the day in, happy to have a day of piece and solace.

Alexia refused to accept that, so you’d been dragged along to her christmas morning with Alba, then her christmas lunch with her cousins and extended family and finally dinner with Eli and the closer family.

It had been more activities and festivities in a day then you’d experienced in your whole life of christmas’, and that night when you’d inevitably ended up at Alexia’s house you’d broken down.

Christmas for you had always just been another day, but your day spent with Alexia had made you feel more loved then you ever had before.

Christmas was supposed to be a happy day, but that night, all you’d done was sob. You didn’t blame your parents for your missed experiences, they did the best that they could at the time. But you mourned the bit of your childhood that you’d so clearly missed out on. You were overwhelmed beyond any words being able to describe it, you didn’t understand how some families got this, and yet others didn’t. Alexia was so incredibly blessed and she had no idea about it.

Even eight years later, you weren’t the best with christmas.

Just because you’d become accustomed to what christmas in Alexia’s world looked like didn’t mean that it came easy to you.

Alexia loved christmas, she looked forward to it every year, if you were to harbor a guess you’d say it was probably her favourite holiday of them all.

You didn’t hold the same sentiment, you didn’t have years of positive childhood christmas memories, and even after your experiences with the Putellas it didn’t overshadow your deeply innedeed desire to spend christmas under the covers of a bed.

Every christmas was spent similarly for the Putellas’, Alexia waking up at 5am, full of energy, dragging you straight out of bed. Once dragged out of bed, you’d get thrown down onto the living room floor, coffe thrusted in your hand before the annual present unwrapping.

Alba normally rocked up around 6am, depending on her circumstances, with or without a partner. From then the apartment living room floor turned into a pile of gift wrapping paper as the two Putella’s sisters unwrapped present after present like six year olds.

You’d never been big on the present thing, you enjoyed watching the two sisters and their animated reactions to every single gift that they received, you preferred to sit back and discreetly open the gifts that were thrown your way.

After the great present opening, it then transitioned into a big breakfast that made you nauseous and bloated and semi-uncomfortable.

Christmas tradition to Alexia was like a law, there wasn’t any changing it.

You’d thought that once you’d started to form a family together that maybe things would change a little bit, that maybe Alexia would relax and mellow out, that all of the fuss and festiveness would subside a little bit, but you were so wrong. If anything, it only got more intense.

Lili was four, and it was the first year that she’d started to catch onto what Christmas was, and Alexia was giddy about it. She’d spent the whole months of November and December getting your daughter as excited and understanding of the ‘magnitude’ of what event was coming up.

Christmas for the putellas’ household started on december first, everything leading up to the big christmas eve dinner on the 24th.

Lili had already been excited, but spending the night beforehand with all of her older cousins, unwrapping smaller presents and sitting around the table hearing stories from Eli hadn’t been any help.

You were less than enthuasiatstic about it all, but this year you had an excuse to sit back and relax, and that came in the form of your 2 month old baby, Emi.

Emi was also a good enough reason to dip out of the celebrations a little bit early, when Emi started to get fussy and hungry for her night time feed you decided it was time to call it and one-handedly dragged your wife and her mini-me out of Eli’s house, with the promise that you’d make sure the two of them got enough sleep so that they were functional by tomorrow.

The two pouted the whole way home, and it truly added a whole new layer to the whole mini alexia persona that Lili had adopted.

She was a carbon copy of Alexia, always begging to be dragged along to football training, she had the same little focused scowl that Alexia had when she was focusing, she watched football on the television with the same amount of intensity that Alexia did, all of her mannerisms, all of her values, all of her little details were all Alexia’s.

You were still holding out bits of hope that Emi would be a little bit more like you, but you were also well aware that if she was anything like her sister then it was a losing battle.

You tasked Alexia with getting your hyped up older daughter to sleep, whilst you dealt with a fussy Emi who was overtired and refusing to go to sleep.

“C’mon Emi, you’re fed, you’re changed, you’re tired, you’ve got a comfy bassinet and yet you won’t go to sleep.”

You looked down at your daughter, who had tears running down her face below you in her bassinet, sucking furiously on her dummy like she was trying to prove something to you.

You weren’t quite sure what was worse, a four year old who was riding on a christmas fueled energy high, or a baby who was so determined to stay awake even though she was absolutely exhausted.

With Lili, at least you knew that once she’d been bathed and put to bed that a few stories would put her straight to sleep, it was just the process of getting her into bed that was a struggle. Emi however, was a complete mystery.

Some nights, all she needed was a big feed of milk and she went out like a light, other nights, she would stay awake just for the sake of it.

It was like she could sense the excitement bouncing off of her mama and sister and decided that she too was destined to make your christmas as long as possible.

By the time Alexia trailed in, you were just bouncing Emi off to sleep, unsure about how you were going to transfer her from your arms to her bassinet.

Alexia crawled into your shared bed, watching you with adoration as you gentled paced the rug at the end of your bed, rocking Emi with you.

“You’re so good with her.”

Emi at least, was an easier baby then Lili had been. Lili had almost been reason enough for you to leave it at one child, the first couple months of her life had been hell, but then the toddler phase came and you and Alexia had both fallen in love with the idea of having a little friend for Lili to run about with. So, the rounds of IVF had come again, and after a miscarriage and failed treatment, the two of you were met with little Emi.

It was hard juggling a four year old with far too much energy for one child, but the two of you had made it work.

“I’m just doing my job.”

Motherhood had become a job for you, football wasn’t your passion so much anymore, you were unofficially retired and you were happy that way, you’d won all the accolades you needed, you had a family now that was coming first.

“You’re the best mother, you couldn’t do much more for them.”

You smiled at Alexia, it made you blush in a way like no other when anyone commented on your parenting, it was good to know you were a good person, but to know that you were a good mother, it was something else.

You finally managed to push Emi into enough of a lull that when you placed her down in her bassinet she fussed a little bit before finally falling into a proper sleep.

Once you were sure she was out, you crawled into bed beside Alexia, allowing her to wrap her body around yours.

“Is there any chance I can convince you to stay in bed any time past 6?”

Alexia snorted, her head finding homage in the corner of your neck.

“Lili has permission to be out of bed from 5am onwards, so have fun trying to control that.”

You groaned.

“The presents will still be there, when the sun has risen, why do we need to be out of bed so early?”

Alexia reached over to the bedside lamp that was still on, flicking it off and relaxing into the pillows.

“Alba will be here at 5.30, technically, you can stay in bed as long as you like.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And miss out on you acting shocked at the presents you bought for our daughter and for yourself? How could I do that to myself?”

Alexia pinched your side.

“No, santa brought the presents and I will act shocked when i see what Santa has brought this year, as will you.”

You pinched Alexia back, smirking as she winced.

“I told you that you didn’t need to buy me anything, Alexia.”

You managed to block Alexia’s attempt at retaliation, smirking to yourself.

“No, my name is baby, love, honey or sweet, not Alexia. Asking me to not buy you presents is like asking me to not love you, it’s simply not possible. Also, what kind of impression am I setting for lili and emi if they think that it is acceptable to not shower everyone around them in presents on the best day of the year.”

Alexia sounded proud of herself for that statement, like she’d made a real point.

“You’d be setting an example that love isn’t tangible and you can love someone without pushing gifts down their throats.”

Alexia’s arms wrapped around your stomach, pulling you directly against her.

“You don’t have to open them if you don’t want to, we can keep them for your birthday, or for mothers day, or for our anniversary. I know it’s a hard day for you, if you don’t want to be apart of it all then that’s okay. We’ll work it out okay, I can try to keep lili at bay for a little bit longer if you watnt a sleep in.”

You shook your head, what Alexia was offering was nice, but it was one day a year, Alexia’s favourite day, and you were willing to make compromises if that was required.

“You know how much I love you, right?”

Alexia smiled into your neck, a big corny smile.

“Love me enough to wake up at five am?” You rolled your eyes, flipping down onto your pillow.

“You’re making breakfast, and you’re putting Lili down for a midday nap when she inevitably needs one, and Alba can deal with her other niece when she gets fussy from her sleep schedule being messed with, I want a day of relaxation, okay?”

Alexia wasn’t kidding about the five am thing, you’d just managed to get Emi back down after her early feed, when your daughter dragged herself through the door of Alexia and yours’ room.

She looked more exhausted then excited, something that you were happy about.

“Feliz Navidad, mommy.”

You smiled at your daughter, patting down on the bedding between Alexia and you, making room for your daughter to snuggle up between the two of you.

It was far to early for your liking, and you were happy to cuddle with Lili if it meant you could have another hour or so of sleep.

“Feliz Navidad, sweetheart.”

She wormed her way underneath your covers, immediately throwing her arms around your body.

“Present time?”

You shook your head, bring your daughter close to you.

“Not yet sweetheart, you mami will wake you up when it’s time, okay?”

It was like at 5am Alexia’s internal body clock went off, both her and your daughter jolting up together like they’d been struck by lightning.

“Mommy, it’s time to wake up, it’s christmas.”

Lili’s voice was less of a whisper then it had been when she’d crawled into your bed, and you weren’t all that surprised when seconds later Emi was crying, like she knew exactly what was supposed to happen.

“Sweetheart, go downstairs with your mami, I’ll come down in a minute.”

You were happy to get Lili and Alexia out, leaving you in a semi-tranquil room, besides Emi who was now softly whining beside you.

You reached over into her bassinet, lifting her up and out, happy enough when she settled in your arms.

You figured it was a smarter idea to feed her now, then staving it off and having a grumpy baby in a couple of hours.

So you enjoyed some peace as you nursed Emi, it was a nicer way to wake up and adjust to the reality of what your day was going to look like.

Once Emi was done you threw on a robe and your slippers, before slipping down the stairs of your house and slowly making your way into the living room.

You could hear what was going on before you saw it, the sounds of your daughter squealing and Alexia making similar noises.

It was Lili, Alexia and Alba, all crowded around the christmas tree that Alexia had insisted had to be from the same farm Eli had been getting trees from for years, all three of them with their own piles of wrapping paper at their feet.

It was a sweet sight, one that struck on your heart strings and made you so incredibly grateful.

The amount of excitement one Lili’s face made it all worth it, how happy she was.

“Ah, their is my other favourite niece, come, let me have her, sit down, put your feet up. Emi can help me with the pancakes.”

You accepted a hug from Alba, and happily handed of Emi to her, taking a seat down on your couch, watching as she with practised ease carried your daughter next door to the kitchen.

“Mama, look at what santa brought me, look at all of the toys.”

You weren’t all that surprised that Lili’s pile had magically grown in stature, probably due to both Alexia and her sister’s insistence that it was child abuse to not overflow a child with presents on Christmas.

You were even more shocked by the amount of presents that were designated to your newborn baby.

“Mami, look, a new jersey! With mommy’s name on it, so i can match with you to games!”

The amount of excitement on your daughters face as she turned around to show you the putellas lettering across the back of her blue and red jersey made both you and Alexia weak. You might have been a grinch but there was no denying the amount of pure innocence and joy that was filling your daughter up. She looked impossibly adorabl with her twin braids that Alexia must have done the night before, with her newest addition to her jersey collection layered over the top of her pink flannel set, catching in certain places and the collar not quite aligning.

“Wow Lil, we get to match now, we’ll have to get a extra one for Emi.”

Alexia smirked at you, alreayd holding up a matching miniature sized version of the same jersey Lili was in, you rolled your eyes, there was one thing your two month old baby didn’t need more of and that was most certainly barca memorabilia.

“Mami, look, presents for you, and presents for mommy, and presents for auntie Alba.”

You smiled at your daughter, who was pinging with excitement. She pointed frantically between the different piles of parcels, all of which wrapped in seperate colours of papers. Lili’s pile was less wrapped, more strewn across the floor.

Alexia was responsible for all of the different bits of football gear, whereas you’d stayed more conservative with your choices of clothes, dolls, different zoo animals, small train sets and new books.

“Wow sweetheart, you really got spoiled, huh?”

You couldn’t help but clutch for your phone, taking a photo of your wife and daughter, who were both looking at eachother with equal amounts of excitement. You were well aware that it was going to be a fight trying to get Lili out of that jersey and into the nice dress you’d picked out for today, but you could compromise with letting her wear it over until photo time came around.

Alexia looked particularly proud of herself when Lili came running at you, with a handful of gifts, all with your name on them and signed from ‘santa’.

“For you, from mami and santa.”

You smiled at your daughter, who stood in front of you, seemingly waiting for you to open up the gifts.

You reached for the smallest one first, smiling at a new set of earrings that you knew would quickly become some of your favourites and a matching necklace that had the letters E, L and A on it.

The jewellery was then followed by a voucher for three months of pilates lessons at your favourite gym, which you were exceptionally grateful for. It wasn’t easy working out after having children, but it was even harder trying to adjust to the new version of your body and Alexia was well aware of how insecure you were feeling, plus pilates was a better transition then pump workouts.

The next gift was a new set of running shoes, practical but a gift you were more than happy about. Plus, they would be good for your pilates, so you couldn’t really deny the need for them.

“Alexia, if there is anything alive in this box then I’m going to lose it.”

The fourth parcel was the largest, a big box which contents you were completely uncertain of. Weirdly, Alexia had the tendency to always purchase something for chistmas that the two of you definitely did not need, and that was only going to make your lives harder. Lili had been harping on about wanting a dog, Nala, had unfortunately died when she was too young to remember. She was for whatever reason desperate to fill that hole, and you conceded that once Emi was a little bit older it was definitely a possibility, but not right now.

You nearly cried when you ripped the packaging open and were met with a brand new set of pans.

It was a random thing, and definitely not something to cry over, but it was something that you’d been secretly wanting for a while now.

“Mami, why is mommy crying over new pots and pans.”

Alexia snorted from the other side of the room.

“Because mommy has been saying naughty words every time she’s been cooking with our other pans and things have been getting stuck to them, so I decided it was time we got some new ones, because it’s not nice to use bad words.”

You rolled your eyes, Alexia was the worst role model for swearing, every time anything small annoyed her.

“Thank you, it’s a really good gift.”

Alexia smiled at you lopsidedly, pots and pans was her version of the worst christmas gift ever, but seeing your face light up was enough information to know that she’d done good.

“Ah, you’re crying now, and you haven’t even opened my final gift.”

You looked at Alexia sceptically, trying to figure out if this was one of her weird Christmas things. On your first christmas together, she’d brought you a bike, technically she’d bought two bikes, with the intention of the two of you using in the summer. What she hadn’t know, was that you had a slightly irrational fear of riding bikes, and refused to be within 2 metres of the two wheeled beasts.

Alexia wasn’t a bad gift giver, she was just really good at buying things that she wanted, but forgetting that she person was gifting them to wasn’t necessarily the ideal recipient.

“Lili, give your mommy the last one for me, yeah?”

Lili smiled at you, big and wide and for a second you worried, that it was going to be something you had to pretend you liked for the sake of not giving Lili a bad example.

“Mommy said best for last.”

She pulled a present out from nowhere, a small, long one that looked more like a gift card then anything else.

Good, nohing alive, nothing big or spacious.

You took a moment to compose yourself before smiling down at your daughter and opening the final one.

If you’d been crying before, then this gift had you close to sobbing.

“Mommy says that you deserve time off, just the two of you, so I’m going to stay with abuela and auntie alba for a few days with Emi and you two are going to have some alone time.”

You bit down on your lip, looking up at Alexia, waiting for the catch.

“Just you and me?”

Alexia nodded, a big smile playing on her lips as she looked at you from across the room.

“Just you and me, three nights in italy, your favourite.”

You werw willing yourself to not cry, but when Lili jumped into your arms, followed quickly by Alexia you couldn’t help yourself.

“Feliz Navidad, my love.”

You reached up to press your lips to Alexia’s ignoring the fake vomiting noises that your daughter was making, undoubtedly that she’d learnt from spending to much time with her auntie.

It was peaceful, it was wonderfully perfect and nothing that you would have imagined for this christmas to look like.

“Ale, I think the pancakes are burning, or the toast, or the bacon, something’s burning.”

Alexia snorted and you couldn’t help but join her, the two of you breaking into giggles when the smoke alarm started to scream from the kitchen.

“Feliz Navidad, baby.”

720 notes · View notes

kamaluhkhan · 4 months ago

Text

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!!

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you.

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock.

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs.

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap.

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side.

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.”

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word.

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo.

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?”

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure.

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts:

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you.

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend.

friend.

if you could still call him that.

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.”

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air.

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling.

“me too, kid.”

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze.

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left.

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him.

“perce! hey!”

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.”

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood.

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack.

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium.

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways.

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed.

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees.

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing.

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure.

but, there were other things, too.

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes.

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving.

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection.

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of.

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.”

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed.

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him.

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then.

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge.

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house.

something in luke softens, then. he sighs.

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on.

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke.

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially.

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too.

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.”

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.”

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up.

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.”

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles.

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this.

about you.

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were.

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?”

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy.

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though.

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you.

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand.

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own.

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos.

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways).

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here.

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply.

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you.

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you.

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant.

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.”

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan angst #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty

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vintagegeekculture · 8 months ago

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Because she was an intentionally mysterious woman initially only seen in a single episode, and before she got an on-air backstory in the recent streaming series, Star Trek supplementary material developed contradictory information on who - or what - Number One, the female first executive officer of the Enterprise, was. To my count, she has four different, completely incompatible backstories in the comics and novels, and this is absolutely unique in Star Trek, which usually keeps it consistent.

Peter David, in his New Frontier novels, identified Number One as a long lived immortal human mutant (like Flint from the original series) named “Morgan Primus” who was an early genius in cybernetics and artificial intelligence, which is why the Enterprise computer has her voice. One of the names Morgan Primus assumed to hide her immortality was Morgan Lefler, and one of her daughters was Robin Lefler, Wesley Crusher’s love interest from the Next Generation Series played by Ashley Judd. Robin Lefler did not inherit her mutant ability to heal all injuries.

Alternatively, the DC Star Trek Comics of the early 1980s said that Number One was from an obscure planet of peaceful, open, friendly telepaths who resemble humans exactly, and that she was present at first contact with Starfleet. They explained that her blunt, direct, undiplomatic manner is due to her being from a telepathic culture that values total honesty. This would make her the first telepath on the Enterprise, with Spock and Arex coming later. Her planet was created before the Next Generation, but her species being a peaceful, open, telepathic race resembling Mediterranean humans who are not well known or commonly encountered in the original series era….well, that certainly sounds an awful lot like Betazoids to me. If this backstory is true, she may have been the first Betazoid seen on screen, in much the same way fans generally believe Trelane was either Q or a member of the Q Continuum.

D.C. Fontana’s only Star Trek novel, “Vulcan’s Glory,” was one of the earliest attempts to give the character a backstory, and was the most consequential long term. The first novel set in the era of the first Star Trek pilot with Captain Pike and a young Spock, "Vulcan's Glory" identified Number One as being an Illyrian, a race of human-like beings who specialize in species wide breeding programs and genetic improvement. This genetic superiority is why she was cool, intellectual, aloof, and a bit arrogant. Her nickname “Number One” came from the fact she was the supreme product of the hyper-competitive Illyrian system, and won at everything from academics to athletics. According to DC Fontana, her actual Illyrian name is impossible to pronounce, so when dealing with humans, she assumed the human name “Una Chin-Riley.” Una of course, being “Number One” in Greek.

As DC Fontana is such an important figure in Star Trek history and only actually wrote one Star Trek novel in her life, many future materials used the backstory established in “Vulcan’s Glory,” like the David Stern Pike-era novels of the 2010s....but more importantly, the Discovery and Strange New Worlds series, which canonized the “Una Chin-Reilly” name by using it on screen (I remember gasping when Pike called her Una in a Discovery episode, meaning they were going with the Fontana backstory, a detail that may not have been significant to the casual viewer). Since DC Fontana wrote “Vulcan’s Glory” in the 80s, a lot more information was learned about the role of genetic engineering in the Federation, however, and interesting things were done in that series to bring her in line with everything we’ve learned since in Deep Space 9 and Enterprise about augmentation and the society wide prejudice against it. For example, they established that the fact Number One was Illyrian was not public knowledge, but that she pretended to be human her entire life.

The one person who didn’t see fit to give her a backstory or even a real name was John "Johnny Redbeard" Byrne in his comic series about the Cage era Enterprise, who thought the mystery of the character was the most interesting thing about her, and he was deliberately cagey about any details. To Johnny Redbeard, she was just “Number One.” There was a running joke that every time someone says her actual name, or when we see her personnel file, it was blurred out, or somebody’s thumb was over it, and so on. It was rather like the running joke where Mr. Burns never remembers Homer Simpson's name. Johnny Redbeard loves mystery men and women who don't talk about their past, since that was the characterization he famously gave to Wolverine in his X-Men comics.

The one detail of Number One's past that is clear is that Number One in Byrne's comics is competent, mysterious, and has mystique, certainly, but she is completely human, without any powers. Byrne always got exasperated that his X-Men co-creator Chris Claremont added fantastical and far out details to the background of X-Men characters (like how Nightcrawler's girlfriend Amanda turned out to be a sorceress) because he felt "some people should just be allowed to be normal." Byrne always said his original idea for Wolverine's "true" backstory was that he was a Vietnam veteran in intelligence who volunteered for bionic experiments that wiped his memory, and disliked the idea he was immortal, and vetoed the very, very early Dave Cockrum idea Wolverine was an actual mutated wolverine who achieved sentience and a human shape (which early X-Men comics hint at). Byrne was reportedly enraged that they gave Moira MacTaggart a mutant power, as he saw her as just being a scrappy Scottish housekeeper.

Johnny Redbeard didn’t give Number One a past (other than to show she was on the Enterprise's shakedown cruise with Robert April as a rookie officer), but he did give her a future, as he showed an older Number One as a starship commander in the Kirk era (aging gracefully with a white tuft like Tongolele), and later, a flag officer in the Motion Picture era.

To what extent are these backstories compatible? Well, with what we currently know about Number One, that she hid her true species and status to avoid prejudice, it could be that some of the other versions were tall tales she spread to obscure her true origins. The John Byrne idea she served as an Ensign with Robert April in the Enterprise's very first mission hasn't been confirmed, but hasn't been denied, either. The Peter David "Morgan Primus" backstory is completely incompatible, but perhaps there are some elements to it that are true, like the idea that the early part of her career involved working as a computer engineer in artificial intelligence, which is why the computer has her voice.

#star trek #tos #snw #number one

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loliwrites · 17 days ago

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The One You Need | six

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, angst, first real date, discussion of dysfunctional parental relationships, turbulent sibling relationship, joel makes reader cry [not in a mean way], cuddling, terms of endearment [sweetheart, babygirl], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.2k series masterlist | part five a/n: it’s about time, huh? (the last part was released about 10 months ago 💀 but i’m back hunni buns. and back to remembering why i love sweet, emotionally intelligent joel

Make it hurt.

The words were seared into Joel’s brain. He even saw them etched into his eyelids when he closed his eyes. If only you’d known that the man standing in the bathroom doorway, watching you get ready, had a mind reeling with worry. Instead you, leaning over the sink, carefully applying eyeliner, snuck a glance at him through the mirror and only recognized how absolutely gorgeous he was.

He’d gotten back into his jeans and green flannel, much to your dismay for the want of his bare chest, broad shoulders, and soft stomach. His arms were folded over that now covered chest, shoulder leaning against the jamb, one foot crossed over the other. Despite you having been getting ready for the better part of an hour now, it hardly looked like his patience was waning. All too willing to have nothing more than your presence for as long as you’d have him. Even when you traded in your eyeliner for the tube of mascara and pulled the firm-bristled brush over your lashes, you heard him take a deep breath but it didn’t sound like an argument to the time you were taking to doll up. After all, it was the first time Joel would see you in any amount of makeup designated for him. You chose to forget the night he’d swooped up on your porch, handgun in his waistband, and shooed your pushy date away. Though that night you hadn’t gotten made up for him.

Face painted and ready to get changed, you waltzed past him in the threshold, keen to the fact that he spun slowly to keep you in his eyeline. Even took a couple steps in the direction of your bedroom before you paused and pressed a hand to his chest, insisting he go on and wait in the living room for you. You hadn’t needed help getting dressed since you were a kid. And it wasn’t like you were getting completely dressed up. Joel was in a flannel and jeans. It was all you needed to know he wasn’t taking you to some Michelin rated restaurant. You ventured to guess he’d take you somewhere a tad nicer than a diner, where food that would stick to your bones was served. So you emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later and pulled the door shut behind you until it clicked back on itself. His boots created soft thuds on the hardwood floor where he paced, waiting, anticipating.

All that stopped when you came into view.

You stood, arms held out to the side to show off the long, simple dress you’d thrown on. Something probably better suited for a day of peak summer day-drinking instead of a dinner date night nearing autumn. But you looked up into Joel’s eyes, seeing if you could figure out what he was thinking before he said it, and it wasn’t hard to do so. It was all written on his face. The way those dark brown eyes darted away from your face and down to the dress and the way the fabric flowed around your legs; a slit in the cotton skirt of it showing just the smallest hint and promise of the skin beneath. His jaw hung slack, forgetting to maintain whatever class or politeness he may’ve felt was deserved. And then all he did was shake his head, eyebrows raised, bouncing a curl loose over his forehead.

“Good?”

“You look…” he shook his head again, advancing upon you with outstretched arms that eventually found purchase at your waist. Fingers dug firmly into it, squeezing. “You look great… beautiful,”

Though you could tell that’s what he thought, hearing him say the word made your heart jump into your throat. He kept ogling, staring, and now up close. Heat rose in your cheeks and you clutched your hands over his biceps gently, urging him back. “Should we get going?”

He nodded and took your cue. A few quick steps toward your front door and he was pulling it open with a protective and secure hand on your lower back as you passed by. It all started to feel very… adolescent. Like he’d picked you up from home, all nerves and anxiety. Like you hadn’t already seen each other naked a handful of times. Like he hadn’t already been informed of the way you seemed to get a little more turned on when he choked you. The way he opened the front door, and then stood by your side, hand still on your back when you descended the porch steps. How you crossed the street together like that, smiling and talking to each other. You weren’t sure if he noticed but you sure did. Noticed that Mrs. Cole was knitting on her front porch when you passed by, and how she stood from that rocking chair and made for the house as quickly as her old bones could take her, calling for her husband. Or the way Kelly… poor Kelly… paused her progress on helping her kid out of his booster seat in the car and stared, having to witness the man she wasn’t a match for, parade down the street with the new neighbor who seemed to be.

That one made you bow your head, trying to avoid not only her gaze, but Joel’s as well. Had your initial resistance to men and relationships been a game? One that the very core of his primal being couldn’t help but want to chase? Had you trapped him here in a false promise that if he caught you and won, there’d be a prize at the end? There was a very obvious and adult way of figuring that out. You could ask him. Talk it out and see what was there. But that would require you to make it real. To say that you were noticing something between you two, and if he noticed that too, which he surely would after you’d brought it up. So you swallowed it and smiled graciously to him as he pulled open the passenger side door of his truck and helped you up into it.

Once you were settled, he closed the door and circled the truck to his side, wasting no time in getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. The truck was in gear in no time, and right as he started off down the street, through the neighborhood, past all the nosy, small-town neighbors, he reached over and placed his hand on your thigh. Wrapping his fingers around it and giving a soft squeeze. You could feel his eyes shifting to you. Back and forth from the road to you; inspecting. And fearing that a conversation you wanted to delay would arise, you kept your gaze out the window. Downtown Austin was coming into view but Joel wasn’t exactly taking the route to get you to it.

“Slide on over here,”

Finally, you looked at him. He was already looking back at the road, but his hand on your thigh tightened and pulled, urging you closer to him. Closer meant he wouldn’t have as good of a view of your face, so you obliged. Moved yourself across the bench and settled in next to him, where his arm released your thigh and migrated up around your shoulders. His hand hung limp just over you.

“Nervous?” He asked and shook you gently. And being met with a questioning expression, he pressed a smile. “You’re kinda quiet,”

“Just thinking,”

“Uh oh,”

You nudged into his side, earning a more authentic smile and even a little chuckle. Foregoing focus on driving for a split second, he pressed his lips against your temple. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

A quick shake of the head was all you were hoping to have to do to dismiss the topic. Tell him? About how it was scaring the hell out of you that despite your best efforts and consciousness, you were somehow becoming dependent on him. Absolutely not.

Joel took a deep breath. He’d caught the shake of your head from the corner of his eye, and with your lack of clarification, his brain – which had already been on a witch hunt of its own – picked back up where it had left off. Only now you weren’t in front of the mirror with things that could be turned into eye weapons. You were just here. Next to him. Curled beneath his arm. And he couldn’t get this convoluted duality to quiet down. The one where part of it was riddled with this gentle caring and acceptance of what this was, and the other part that resulted in him finding his handprint on more than one spot on your body.

“I’ve been thinkin’ too, and I…”

He leaned forward in his seat, glancing out the side view mirror before he veered into the left lane. The silence gave you time to look up at him and study his face. The graying scruff at his jaw nearly meeting the curls that had grown long enough to wrap at his neck.

“M’not sayin’ I didn’t enjoy it. I think it’s obvious I did,” he cleared his throat, attempting to get the image of you bent over the kitchen counter out of his head. His hand circled the steering wheel, fingers outstretched to make the right hand turn, before circling it back, getting it straight again. “Guess I’m tryna figure it out…” he paused and shook his head, deciding to ask a different way, “did your parents comin’ over have anything to do with… it,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion sweeping through you. And figuring his brain was cannibalizing itself more than yours was, you set your hand in his lap and squeezed his thigh, giving him the permission to continue.

“You askin’ me to make it hurt,” his eyes flicked down at you. All you could do was cower a bit more into his side, but he lost the nerve to keep his eyes on you, and shook his head softly again. “I know you said I did what you asked, but I think I might’ve gone a bit overboard and actually hurt you, and…” he cleared his throat again. “If you asked because your parents showed up, and fuckin’ an older guy sorts out daddy issues, I… guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that’s alright if that’s what this is, but I need to know. ‘Cause then you’re saying stuff like you’re mine. And I know that was during sex, and I wouldn’t want to be held accountable for everything I say during sex, but…” He looked back down at you, the realization that he’d gone ranting catching up with him.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, the drive was over. Truck now sat in a crowded parking lot. The world could look in and get a glimpse of something you’d rather have been doing in private. But Joel removed his arm from around your shoulders so he could turn the keys and pull them out of the ignition. “I can’t be the guy that marks up a woman like that,”

“Joel,”

“Not when she says stuff like she’s mine and… yeah I don’t care if it was just a during-sex thing.” He took a breath and cleared his throat, “so I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that with you again. The really rough stuff. Maybe if you were a one night stand. But you’re not. You’re… you,”

“What’s that mean?”

He glanced at you sideways and pushed his door open, “means we’re on a date. Stay there,” he slid out of his truck and slammed the door shut behind him.

And even if you had been so inclined to move, Joel cut you off by hustling around the front of the truck so he could make it to the passenger-side door first. He tugged on the handle and held the door open for you; his free hand coming down for you to steady yourself on the jump out of the cab. You, however, growing uncomfortable with his honesty, stepped out of the truck by yourself, choosing to forego his help. That was the absolute very least you could do.

If there was any thought or hope that at some point through dinner you’d both snap out of it and return to the chemistry you so obviously had in private, that was squashed by the time the waiter set your plates down in front of you. Conversation had waned – nay, come to a complete stop – and your drinks were the only things keeping your mouths busy.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at the waiter. A quick flick of your eyes to Joel had you seeing that he’d gone straight for his fork and knife, even refusing to say a word to the waiter. Who, also feeling the awkwardness in the air, left your table as fast as humanly possible.

“You gotta tell me what’s going on,” Joel all but demanded.

“What do–”

Beautiful, divine providence. That’s all that could be said for the way your phone started vibrating in your purse at that very moment. And under any normal circumstance, you would’ve ignored it completely. But it was a sign from God. A get out of jail free card. Only you did just that – scoured through your purse with your hand in the shape of a ‘search claw’ and rifled around until you felt it buzzing against your fingers. Another quick glance at Joel to find his expression now purely unimpressed, before you looked down at your phone screen. And seeing the name across it, you wished you hadn’t seen it at all.

Joel noted how you re-hid your phone in your purse by clearing his throat. When it grabbed your attention again, he raised his eyebrows, “talk to me. And don’t say it’s nothin’.” He pushed a forkful of food into his mouth, and just when you opened your mouth to say something, he beat you to the punch, “be honest.”

“I’m not just fucking an old man to get over daddy issues, I’m fucking an old man because I like him,” you glared, a little meaner than you thought you’d be.

“Don’t pull punches,” he smiled.

“My mom is weak. My dad’s a steam roller. And I’ve spent my entire life being pitted against my sister in a battle of which one is prettier and which one is smarter. One of us was supposed to find a man to take care of her, and the other was supposed to get a career and take care of herself. Guess which one I am.” You lifted your wine glass to your lips, thankful this place had a somewhat palatable house red. “I asked you to make it hurt because I wanted to feel something. Something that overshadowed the things that their presence evokes in me. And if I’m being completely honest, I asked you to make it hurt because I like you. Because if you hurt me, I mean, really hurt me… even if it’s just in this way, then I can chalk you up as being like every other guy. No good,”

“You–”

“But I fucked up,” you interrupted him and set your wine glass back down. Cocked your head to the side and shook it absently. “Because you didn’t just hurt me like I asked you to. You fucking took care of me after. You ruined my plan,”

“Sorry,” he smirked.

You shook your head again. This time with more intent, “and Kelly saw us walking to your truck. She knows. And it looked like it broke her heart all over again. So I think we should stop doing this and you should give her another chance,”

“What about what I think?”

“Be able to give you the type of relationship you want. I think she’d make you really happy,”

“You make me happy,” he sat back in his chair and pressed a wide smile when that made your eyes return to his fully. “At least you do for now. Think you’re gonna be a pain in my ass in fifteen to twenty years, but maybe I’ll be dead by then,”

“Joel–”

“You know what I think?” He paused for effect but wasn’t actually looking for an answer from you. “I think it’s fucked your parents pitted you against your sister, knowingly or not. I think it’s fucked up that you were made to believe you’re only smart. I think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous. I think you should stop bein’ so afraid of wanting something. Or someone. And I think you should let me try and get you to fall in love with me.”

“Fall in love with you?” You exhaled in a way that sounded like a laugh of disbelief. “Good luck,”

He lifted his beer bottle, “don’t think it’ll be too hard. ‘Cause here’s the thing,” he scooted forward in his chair, a smirk growing across his lips as he leaned over the table toward you, “you ain’t never had a man take care of you before, and now you’re gettin’ a taste of it. You don’t know what it’s like to let a man in and let him love you. You won’t let yourself. Hell, you didn’t even know sex was supposed to come with aftercare.”

“Did too,” it dawned on you that you sounded more like a petulant child than a full-fledged adult.

“Yeah, you tryna sneak outta my house after the first time because I was gone a couple minutes… Sweetheart, you don’t even know what love looks like.” He took a sip of his beer, “how could you know something if it was never taught to you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to try and keep the tears you felt burning in your eyes at bay. “What’re you trying to do? Make me feel stupid?”

Joel pursed his lips. His eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t help but notice but the best description for the expression he now gave was remorseful. “To you, bein’ stupid must feel like the worst thing you could be, huh?” His eyes searched yours for affirmation to his question and found more than enough of it. “It’s not. And you’re not,” Joel reached forward and took your hand when you tried to grab at your wine glass again. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed them tight, holding on despite you fighting him to pull away. “You’re not stupid,”

“Joel,”

“You hear me? You’re not stupid,”

“Stop it, Joel,” you pleaded, the first tear falling from your eye, trailing a wet line down your cheek.

“You’re not, babygirl,”

Finally you’d manage to pull your hand out of his grasp and raised both to your face, covering your eyes. You wouldn’t let him see you cry; to show your weakness. Your chest bounced and the breath caught in your throat as you tried to stifle your sobs. For the only thing worse than Joel seeing you cry, was the entire restaurant seeing you cry. And you’d either been at it for longer than you thought, or he managed to pay for the bill rather quickly, but either way, the next thing you knew was you were being hauled up to your feet. Joel kept a hand on your elbow and the other on your upper back. His thumb and index finger cradling the base of your neck to guide you safely out of the restaurant despite your head being bowed.

“Almost back at the car, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear.

You figured as much. You’d taken far too many steps to not be back at his truck by this point. Just a few more steps. A few more staggered breaths as calmness still evaded you. Then you were pulled to a halt and Joel reached forward for the door handle. He’d only manage to tug the passenger door open before you were turning into him, standing up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms over his shoulders. Your face buried into the crook of his neck.

“I gotcha, babygirl. I got you,” he kept his arms embraced around you tightly. Squeezed you to his body and kissed your temple in the same moment you pressed your lips to his neck for a kiss.

He rocked you side to side, almost like what you’d do to a baby to soothe them. And whether it was the motion, or the smell of him, or the feel of his lips on the side of your head while he whispered all the gentle things you’d always wished a man in your life would say…

You’re alright, sweetheart.

I’m proud of you.

You’re safe.

You’re not stupid.

And all these things that sounded a little bit like I love you.

Your breathing evened out. Lungs filled with fresh air that also smelled like his cologne. Once you lowered yourself from your toes and returned to your normal height, you looked up at him and sniffled. If he could like you looking like this, he could like you anytime. And Joel, always unwavering, pinned a genuine smile to his face when you showed him your face again. He lifted his hands and cupped your cheeks; thumbs wiping away the wet trails your tears had left behind.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, giving him an exaggerated pout.

He shook his head in return, “no, no. You been carryin’ this weight a long time.” He wiped his thumbs over your cheeks again, this time with a nod. “Don’t I look like a big, strong man that can carry some of it?”

You looked up into his eyes, really hoping that what you’d find was yes, he did look like someone to carry some of the weight. You also hoped that if that was indeed what you found, that it wouldn’t scare you away immediately. “Take me home, Joel.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Home.

Such an odd word to use with him.

Home.

What was that? Your house? His house? Either one as long as he was there? Maybe in this state you were just inclined to read too much into your own words. Let fear build in the recesses of your brain and wonder if they’d be the thing that would eventually scare him off. You figured it was just your own mind playing tricks on you. Making you believe the worst before it ever happened, as if to ensure that it would. A self-fulfilling prophecy.

Joel certainly wasn’t making you feel that way. Not on the entire drive back home. One of his hands on the steering wheel, the other stroking over the back of your head, playing with your hair. Him checking in with you every time a red light stopped your forward progress. Y’alright? And the gentle smile he’d return when you assured him yes. Not when he walked you back up to your front door and waited for you to unlock it. His hand remained on your lower back, his thumb dragging lazy circles over the fabric of your dress. Not when you asked if he’d come in and his answer was an immediate and resolute, of course.

And surely not now when you returned to your bedroom and found him lounging back in your bed in his underwear, ogling you when you walked in in nothing but the green flannel he was wearing earlier. The buttons undone. The fabric undulating against your body. Desire and lust flared up in his eyes as you crawled up on the bed.

“C’mere,” he cocked his head back, inviting you forward to his lap.

Legs straddled his waist with ease as if it had been a move you’d been perfecting with him for years. His hands folded to your thighs. Strong fingers wrapped around supple flesh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you to stay over tonight.” You glanced to the side where Joel was already staring at you. “I’m exhausted,”

He chuckled and closed his eyes, turning his head straight again, “wasn’t planning on staying. Your bed fucked up my back.”

“My bed’s not the–”

Joel squeezed your thighs once, twice, quickly, “shh, c’mere, I wanna tell you a secret.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and pressed your hands to his chest. “What?”

“Come closer,” he whispered, very nearly forcing you to lean in just to be able to hear him.

So you did. Crowded his personal space and leaned in, very ready to turn your head to the side to get your ear closer to his mouth for this so-called secret. But Joel lifted his hand and took hold of your chin before you could turn it away from him. He held you there, and as your eyes widened in confusion, you noticed how his gaze danced over your face – from your eyes, to your nose, mouth, down to your chin where his grip grew gentler, and all the way back up to your eyes. And you opened your mouth to once again ask what the secret was, but your lips parted and before any noise could slip out, Joel met you the rest of the way. Leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, softly and then all at once. He inhaled deeply and upon releasing your chin, cupped his hand over the side of your face; fingers cradling the back of your head while his thumb stroked over your cheek.

You parted slightly, catching your breath, “that’s a good secret.”

“Got somethin’ else to tell you,” he hummed, not wasting any time in getting you back into a kiss.

You smiled softly against his lips, allowing your tongue to meet his as it searched for entrance into your mouth. Finding it, a gravelly moan escaped his lungs, hung in the air between you for just a moment, until you swallowed it down. Beneath you, you could feel his length growing harder. Joel, too, let you know that he was aware of it. He let out another hum of recognition and reached around you with his free hand, ducking it beneath your ass, and tugged on the fabric of his underwear.

With another breath, you pulled away from him and set your forehead against his. Eyes pinned downward, focused on your hands on his chest. Fingers dancing over the dusting of hair down the center. “D’you want me to blow you?”

His response was instantaneous. First by shaking his head. Then by the way he leaned in and pecked your lips, and the hand on your cheek drifted down to your shoulder and held you. “No… I–” he rested his head back on the wall behind your bed, “are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry earlier.”

For the second time that night, you opened your mouth to say something. To tell him it was alright. You know he didn’t mean to do that. And for the second time that night, your phone interrupted you. There on the nightstand, the whole thing buzzed. The wood tabletop seemed to accentuate the noise and both you and Joel turned to look at it. You know he saw the name flash across the top. And knew he clocked the way you leaned over to quickly turn the screen black again, sending the call to voicemail. It wasn’t the first time you’d done that tonight either.

“Y’wanna get that?” he prodded gently. But you were quick to shake your head and return to your spot on top of him, taking him into another kiss. He took your shoulder again and eased you back. “Might be important if they keep callin’,”

“It’s just my sister,”

Joel’s eyebrows raised. Eyes widened. The very sister that so much of your inner baggage was tied up with. He didn’t want to press. Didn’t want to urge you to divulge too much and end up in tears again. He knew he was treading choppy water.

“I’ll call her back tomorrow,” you mumbled, sounding less than enthused. Running your fingers through his graying scruff, you tried to ignore the fact that you really would have to call her back tomorrow. “Sure you don’t want me to blow you?”

He shook his head again. More insistent this time. “Just want to cuddle up with you before you kick me out for the night,”

You smiled, almost to yourself as you leaned forward, turning your head to the side and resting your cheek on his chest. Legs straddled his lap, arms wrapped around his torso, You couldn’t have been closer to him if you tried. A yawn torn you, absolutely exhausted from the entire day. The fact that your parents had been there that morning seemed like a lifetime ago.

Nuzzling into Joel, you let out a sigh, “your time tonight’s running short.”

He let out a chuckle, and the next thing you felt was his lips pressing down to the top of your head. A subtle nod of acknowledgment.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You woke up due to a shuffling around your bedroom. Squinting into the sunlight that poured in through the window, you spotted Joel pulling his jeans up his legs. He fastened the button and looked in your direction.

“Mornin’,” he looked around, searching for his flannel that you’d thrown off sometime during the night. “I’ve got an early job,”

You nodded and pointed him in the direction of the foot of the bed where you knew he’d find his shirt. “So much for not staying the night,”

He followed your tip and retrieved the garment from off the floor, quickly sliding it on and doing up the buttons, “yeah, my back’s paying for it.” Rounding back to your side of the bed, he bent forward and kissed your forehead, “you wanna come over tonight?”

Foregoing everything but a nod, you let your tired eyes drift back shut. The next thing you felt were his lips on yours, giving a chaste kiss. It almost made you think you could do this every morning for the rest of your life.

Sometime between Joel using the bathroom and leaving the house, you fell back asleep. Taken back to recuperate from the previous day. Looking forward to doing nothing but lounging around and knowing you’d actually have to put in some work today. Two hours later when you woke again, the rest of the neighborhood had too. The sounds of the suburbs seeping in through your old single-paned windows. Note to self, get Joel to replace those with double-paned.

Rising from bed and starting your morning routine, you noted all the other things around the house you’d have to ask Joel to do. Fix that annoying drip of your shower head. Replace the kitchen faucet to something not so antique looking. Blow out your dryer vent so you didn’t accidentally burn the house down. As you added each thing to the mental to-do list, it became increasingly more frightening how much you needed him to do. How much you needed him. And if that just didn’t make your coffee taste like tar.

It really started to weigh on you. How dependent you were on him being around. How you were spending practically every night with him. Thankfully, the buzzing of your phone pulled your attention away from cynical thoughts. Even if it was your sister calling again. Surely talking to her would be less painful than the rabbit hole in your brain.

“Hi–what?” You furrowed your eyebrows trying to make sense of your sister’s frantic words. It almost made you feel guilty for sending her to voicemail the previous night. “What’re you talking about?” Another pause but her voice didn’t get any less agitated. “Slow down, I can’t understand you,”

Once she took a breath you were able to catch up on her rant. And what you’d gathered was unfortunately something you’d seen had been a long time coming. New parents with a single income in southern California, your sister was cluing into the fact that her husband – the father of her baby – wasn’t exactly the dad she hoped he’d be. You wondered why she was surprised by his absent-mindedness. He hadn’t gone to any of her appointments. He hadn’t waited on her when she was nauseous or doubled over in pain. In fact, he didn’t do much of anything for her in the nine months of what you’d heard had been a pretty hard pregnancy. So her surprise at his absence now that the baby was here was baffling. But here she was, complaining to you about how he leaves for work early in the morning, and comes back in the evening. And though she too had spent the entire day working – as a mother – he didn’t help her with the baby when he got back home. He sat around, waiting for her to cook dinner, and change the baby, and feed and bathe the baby. He bitched at her if the house wasn’t tidied up. Shit, he hardly even acknowledged the baby.

And though you wanted to ask her why she was surprised – this is who he’d always shown himself to be – you knew that wasn’t helpful. This was your sister’s new reality. Surely she was growing aware of what a mistake it had been to be to hitch her wagon to him. And you pointing that out wouldn’t change anything. It would still be a mistake.

“What can I do?” It was the only remotely helpful thing you could think to say. And it was genuine. You imagined venturing into motherhood was hard enough. Doing so as if you were a single parent when you expected to have the support of a partner must’ve added to the difficulty. So when she told you the thing that would be helpful, you agreed immediately.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

If Joel’s back wasn’t hurting enough before work, it surely was after. He limped up the stairs to his front door. One hand clutching the railing and the other clutching his lower back. The perfect night was looking like it’d include a heating pad and a lot of whiskey. He hoped you wouldn’t mind.

In fact, he’d just poured himself his first glass of whiskey when he heard the knock on the front door. Figured you saw him come home. He was going to be sure to make fun of you for watching him out your front window again. All ready to give you a good ribbing, he tugged open his front door with a big smile on his face. But upon seeing you, that vanished entirely. A large rolling suitcase was beside you. A carry-on sized duffel pack in your hands.

“Goin’ on a trip?”

“I’m goin’ to my sister’s house,”

His breath caught in his throat. He remembered all the calls you’d avoided the previous night. Wondered how catastrophically wrong it had gone for you to be leaving. “Why?”

“I don’t know when I’m gonna be back,”

“Can you come in so we can talk?” He stepped to the side to allow you space to come in. He wasn’t prepared for you to deny him.

“I have to catch my plane,”

“Is this because of yesterday?” He cocked his head to the side figuring you weren’t bound to tell him the absolute truth. Yet, he surmised he knew the real reason. “You’re spooked,”

“What?”

He nodded. Hit the nail on the head. “Something clicked in for you about us and now you’re spooked. Running away,”

“Am not,”

“Okay. Then tell me,”

“Joel, I have to go,”

“I’m not trying to trap you,” he murmured and stepped out toward you. “I don’t know what exactly got you spooked, but I’m guessing it probably has to do with me being around so much. Maybe I’m doin’ too much for you. Gotta get you to mow your damn lawn,”

“Joel–”

“I’m just trying to take care of you,”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“I know,” he nodded and cupped his hand to the back of your head. “But I want to. And I can. If you’ll let me,”

“I gotta go Joel,” you pressed back against his hand, but he did he best to keep you in place.

“Give me a kiss,”

You knew it was probably the wrong thing to do given that you truly didn’t know when you’d come back. If you would come back, or if you’d spend some time back in California and end up selling your home here. You knew it’d be easier to cut him off here. But his lips looked so soft and you yearned to feel them at least one more time. So you did as he asked and leaned in for a kiss. Let him cradle your head with all the fondness in the world and give you the most tender kiss you imagined existed.

Joel didn’t want to let you go. He knew if he did, each day that passed increased the likelihood he’d never see you again. But you eventually won out. Pulled away enough that your lips parted and you took a step back. You stared up at him, not fearing his gaze, almost as if hoping to sear his image into your memory. Then with a sheepish nod, you turned with your suitcase and walked off his porch and to the awaiting car he hadn’t even noticed had pulled up to whisk you away from him.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the one you need

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shortestcake · 4 months ago

Text

SAFE WITH HER

(oneshot)

Pairing: Abby x reader

Pronouns used: she/her

Gendered terms: girl

Genre: angstish+fluff

// Owen(gross), description of violence / very mild gore

It was no secret that Abby was fiercely protective of the people she cared about, naturally assuming a guardian-like role. And when it came to you, that instinct intensified tenfold.

It could range from subtle things, such as a careful but shielding hand on the small of your back or around your waist when the two of you weren't in the comfort of your room. Or less subtle things, like her straight up refusal to you going on patrol without her.

Even before you two were together, she insisted on accompanying you on every patrol, unable to trust anyone else with your safety.

Her constant presence during your outings made this all the more terrifying. This was your first patrol without her in nearly three years, and every step you took made you want to scamper back to base. You knew you were competent—Abby knew this too—but it didn't make any of the situation feel any less wrong.

"Listen, you and Owen know the area the best, I need my most capable people for this. These items are no joke."

On top of it all- he just had to partner you up with Owen for this.

He told you about how there's an emergency trip he wanted done by you. There was an extreme medical supply shortage, he thought he'd be able to hold it off for about another month or so but was proven wrong.

"I wouldn't be asking you if I had better options, I know Abby won't be too happy with me when she finds this out." She, Manny, and Nora had been on their own reconnoitering trip for a week before this; hence why she couldn't join you instead of—or at least alongside—Owen.

As much as you hated to admit, Isaac was right. So you begrudgingly obliged and started preparing soon after, since it was a spontaneous patrol rather than the typical planned ones.

A few days later, your beloved girlfriend returned from her stupidly long journey. You'd usually already be waiting for her the second she walked in. When she didn't spot you immediately, she didn't take it personally, making her way to your shared 'apartment', solely wanting to melt in your embrace after a difficult ten days. Along the way, everyone she met paths with lacked both the heart and the courage to tell her you wouldn't be waiting for her when she reached her destination.

"Baby? I'm back." She spoke softly upon entering your shared space, but said space now felt empty and lifeless. Abby's only companion was a small note you had left on her nightstand. It was short and sweet- explaining the situation to her, complaining about it, and then doing your best to reassure her in written words.

But your gentle words did little to ease her. Saying she was pissed was an understatement, she nearly stormed up to Isaac to tell him off for going against their agreement. But she caught herself, knowing it would accomplish nothing. Even so, she made no effort to hide her displeasure for the rest of the day, shooting him a glare that could cut through steel whenever he was in view. The helplessness of waiting, unable to do anything but sit and pray to any deity that might listen for your safety, was driving her crazy.

The weight of uncertainty hung heavy on her shoulders, amplifying her anxiety with each passing hour. Some might call her dramatic, you'd been able to hold your own before, you'd be able to hold your own now. But that didn't change the fact she didn't trust others with your life, especially Owen, of all people. He wasn't necessarily a bad partner, however, he was definitely when it came to you. It wasn't a secret that the two of you never really got along. And that could only add to the whiplash of how seamlessly teamwork flowed between you and Abby.

The next day, which you estimated would be your last one on patrol, you and Owen were on your way back, only a few hours away from base. The air was thick with anticipation, and every minute felt like an hour.

"If you just—no, give it to me," you snapped, snatching the map from his grip. You mumbled under your breath about his incompetence, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"So fuckin' prissy," he rolled his eyes, the disdain in his voice unmistakable.

"Yeah, 'cause you're such a delight to be around," you scoffed, barely holding it together after the past few days of dealing with him. The tension between you had been simmering, and it seemed on the verge of boiling over. He shot back another snarky comment, and you retorted with your own. The back-and-forth bickering served as a temporary distraction from your surroundings.

The landscape outside blurred as you focused on the argument, each exchange of words feeling like a small release of pent-up stress. But the sharp crack of gunfire abruptly shattered your argument, the sound slicing through the air with terrifying clarity. Your heart jumped into your throat. Perfect, a fucking ambush.

Surprisingly, the threat forced you both to act in sync. Owen's foot slammed on the gas pedal, and the car surged forward. You quickly leaned out the window, scanning the area for targets. Your senses sharpened, the adrenaline coursing through your veins heightening your awareness. Despite being outnumbered, the speed and protection of the car gave you a fleeting sense of advantage. For a moment, you almost believed you had the upper hand.

You should've known better than to get ahead of yourself.

Your body reacted before your mind could process what had happened. Your muscles tensed involuntarily, and your gun slipped from your grip, clattering onto your lap. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped your lips as the shock set in. "Shit—fuck," Owen muttered under his breath, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, accelerating even more. The car lurched forward, tires screeching against the ground as he pushed it to its limits, trying to outrun the danger.

Then the pain hit, a searing agony radiating from the right side of your neck and spreading through every nerve in your body. It felt like fire, intense and all-consuming, making you momentarily dizzy. You pressed a trembling hand to your neck, your fingers coming away slick with blood. You’d been shot. The bullet had grazed your neck.

You weren't sure if you were lucky or unlucky—the bullet had only scuffed your neck, just a few centimeters deep. It hurt like hell and limited your movement, but it hadn't damaged your vocal cords or vital blood vessels. The realization brought a mix of relief and dread, the pain clouding your thoughts. You did your best to stay up and alert, but the adrenaline started fading, and your exhaustion caught up. Slowly, your head lulled and the world went black.

"And you didn't fucking think to patch her up?" Muffled screaming was all you heard when you woke up.

"Up already?" Nora's unmistakable voice asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Well, I'm glad. She's been having a meltdown since you got back." The woman gestured towards the door, where you could still hear screaming from outside the room.

"So, you got shot." She started with the obvious. "It's nothing major—or shouldn't have been." Her voice was laced with slight annoyance. "Owen drove nearly two hours with you bleeding out beside him. Even with a small wound, it did some extra damage." She explained the do's and don'ts, giving you a little rundown of what you were in for.

"I'll bring Abby here, let her know you're awake and all," Nora said, patting your arm gently. You nodded, as much as you could manage. "Thanks a lot, Nora."

"'Course," she replied with a smile before opening the door. "Hey, your girl's up," was the last thing you heard before Nora was out of view and Abby rushed in.

When her all-too-recognizable form bustled to your side, you sat up properly, extending your arms for a long-overdue hug. At first, Abby wanted to examine you, to make sure you were alright, before allowing herself to indulge in the much-needed affection she craved from you. She hesitated, her eyes scanning for any signs of distress or pain. But the sweet look on your face when your eyes met, and your eagerness to just hold her, made her decide it was alright to give in to her wants. With a soft sigh, she melted into your embrace, wrapping her strong arms around you tightly, both of you savoring the comforting warmth of being together again.

After a few moments of satisfying each other's need for tenderness, you both let go, though she kept her hands on you, moving them to your shoulders. Her left hand slowly and ever so gently inched up your neck, studying the bandages wrapped around your wound.

"I'm fine, really. Nora did a good job patching me up," you reassured her with a smile, moving your own hand to rest on hers. You softly caressed up and down her arm, trying to comfort her. Her eyes were filled with concern, but your touch seemed to ease some of her worries.

"If I was there…" she started, but you didn't let her finish, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips. "I know, I know. I didn't like being out without you either, but I'm all good, 'kay?" The look on her face told you she wanted to say more. To tell you that it's not okay because she should've been there, to protect you. Instead, she settled on, "Owen's a dumbass." Which caused you to start giggling.

"Yeah, he really is," you agreed, the tension breaking as you both shared a lighthearted moment.

Abby stared at you laughing, it felt like a weight had just been lifted off her chest and she could finally breathe again. She leaned down, her blonde strands tickling your face slightly while she pressed gentle kisses to your lips and cheeks.

You let yourself soak in the quiet aftermath, in the adoration and security she showered you in. Finally safe in Abby's arms.

Yes, I'm back, again. Hope you guys missed me cause I missed you, might open requests soon too!

#abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #tlou x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson angst #abby anderson fluff

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hardly-an-escape · 3 months ago

Text

for @bucktommypositivityweek Saturday 8/17: nicknames and terms of endearment | naming conventions | 1300 words | rated T

Tommy wasn’t much of a nickname guy. He shortened names, of course – he wasn’t the kind of asshole who insisted on calling Hen Henrietta or Eddie Edmundo – but Howie was almost always Howie, not Chimney, even after they reconnected, and the handful of other firefighters they knew with goofy monikers were still almost always referred to by their given names.

Buck had asked him about it, once; he’d assumed that an Army pilot would have been all in on nicknames and callsigns. But Tommy had simply shaken his head and said something about how, in his experience, they always came from negative moments.

Haven’t you ever noticed that? He’d said. They’re almost always based on something bad. A mistake or a close call. I don’t know, I just don’t think people should be known for something they fuck up when they’re a probie, or a raw recruit. When they’re still learning.

And Tommy wasn’t wrong; most nicknames did stem from some kind of fuck up. Usually something funny or ironic, but not always. To Buck it seemed almost like a kind of hazing ritual – maybe rite of passage would be a kinder term – like, can you really join the club if you can’t handle a little joke? But Buck also saw Tommy’s point. Saw how the loss of a name could mean the loss of agency, loss of identity, loss of control over one’s own person in a context when so much control had already been willingly given up. To service, whether that meant the military or the LAFD or just being the guy always willing to step in and do something.

Buck saw that, even if he didn’t feel it himself. For him, getting a nickname had been freeing – had been an opening up, a door to an identity he’d wanted for a long time without being able to name.

Becoming Buck instead of Evan had been – it was hard to describe. He’d always secretly wanted a nickname, wanted something cool and casual and jocular, something to show that he belonged somewhere. But Evan didn’t exactly lend itself to shortening or rhyming, and nothing he’d done in his youth had ever set him apart. Not in a way that mattered; not in a way that stuck.

He’d lived more than twenty five years of his life being Evan and feeling vaguely uncomfortable about it – until the fire academy, when someone had called him Buck and he’d just run with it, made it happen, finally carved out his own little niche in this world that suddenly meant so much to him.

And that’s how it had been – he’d just been Buck – until Tommy came along.

He hadn’t meant to introduce himself as Evan, when they met in the hangar. In fact, he hadn’t introduced himself at all; Chimney had been the one to make introductions. “Tommy, allow me to introduce you to your flight attendants for this evening’s little jaunt: Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz. Boys, this is Tommy Kinard, formerly of the 118 and currently probably regretting picking up my calls.”

They’d all shaken hands, faces serious. The weight of the moment and what they were about to do was heavy on their shoulders, despite Howie’s wisecracking, and it hadn’t even occurred to Buck to throw out his usual line about his nickname. And later, during his tour of Tommy’s station, it hadn’t really registered for Buck until they were halfway through that the other man had exclusively referred to him as Evan. It felt too late to correct him by the time he’d noticed.

And besides, he’d realized – much later – how much he liked the sound of Evan coming out of Tommy’s mouth.

Neither of them were big on pet names. Tommy would throw out the occasional sweetheart, which always made Buck melt a little inside, but it wasn’t a regular thing. Buck sometimes went for baby in intimate moments – babe, with what Tommy called “a tone,” if he was being a bit of a brat – but it was often as much for comedic effect as anything else.

They mostly just stuck to names. For Evan, the novelty of murmuring Tommy as he kissed his boyfriend’s Adam’s apple or his stubbly cheek or down the line of his happy trail never seemed to wear off. The masculine body under his hands and lips. The masculine name on his tongue.

He asked Tommy, once, after explaining his own weirdly complicated history with his name – and his parents, and his dead brother, and his long unwitting search for an identity – why he went by Tommy, not Tom or Thomas.

“I guess it sounds a little juvenile, doesn’t it?” Tommy said. “For a guy in his forties.”

“I mean, I don’t think so,” Buck said. “I think – I don’t know, I think it fits you. Like, I’ve heard other people call you Tom, but if I called you Tom, I feel like that’s a different person, almost. Someone I don’t even know.”

“I feel the same way about Buck,” Tommy admitted. “Hen says it, I don’t even blink. I know it’s you. But if I say it? It’s like, who is that.”

“Yeah.”

Tommy shifted a little on the couch. Plucked at his jeans, wrapped an arm around Buck’s shoulders and then immediately shifted again so he could run his fingers through Buck’s hair.

“I’ve told you a little about my dad,” he said eventually. “About how we don’t… get along. Never did, really, even when I was just a kid.” He paused, for long enough that Buck looked up enquiringly, only to see Tommy staring off into the middle distance.

“But I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that I was named after him,” Tommy continued eventually.

“Wait, really?”

“Really. I am technically a junior. Thomas Edward Kinard, Jr. He actually wanted my birth certificate to say “the second,” but my mom put her foot down.”

“Wow. I had… no idea.”

“I stopped using the junior a year or two into my stint in the service. Dropped it completely when I came out to Los Angeles. Changed my driver’s license and just… didn’t put it on the paperwork. I’m sure that won’t come back to bite me in the ass someday.”

Tommy laughed, short and sarcastic, and Buck frowned. He’d only heard that laugh a couple of times, but he didn’t like it. He wormed his way out from beneath Tommy’s arm so he could take one of his broad hands between his own, petting over hairy knuckles and a calloused palm.

“Have you ever thought about changing it? Choosing something new?” he asked hesitantly.

“No. Never. He took enough from me, over the years,” Tommy said harshly. “He doesn’t get to take my name, too, even if it did come from him. Besides, it pisses him off enough that I went by Tommy past the age of sixteen. Changing my name would feel like… would feel like giving in.”

“I get that,” Buck said thoughtfully.

He squeezed Tommy’s hand one more time, then put it aside and climbed carefully into his boyfriend’s lap. Tommy let out a soft grunt of surprise as Buck wound his arms around his neck and tipped his face up for a kiss.

Buck obliged him. “Well, for what it’s worth,” he said softly, lips brushing against Tommy’s, “I love your name. I love how it sounds when I say it. Tommy,” he murmured, and Tommy swallowed hard. “It fits you. I don’t know how else to say it. It’s you. And I – I love you. So I love your name.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said those words, but it was still new enough that they tasted fresh and exciting.

“I love you, too,” Tommy said quietly. “Evan,” he said, and kissed him again.

this was supposed to be something fun and silly based on this post but then it developed emotions and that's why it's a day late.

#bucktommy #911 abc #my writing #bucktommy positivity week #names #pet names #this got so much longer than I intended lol #might clean it up and put it on AO3 tomorrow #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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