#angelo x reader

[valentinesdaydate98]

The Secret in the Diner

Word count: 4.1k

Fandom: 91 Days

Pairing: Angelo Lagusa x reader

Disclaimer: English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar and/or spelling mistakes. The main love interest has a name, but I try not to be too descriptive. Thank you!

The chilly winds welcomed Joan with caresses on her flushed face as she strolled to her favorite diner on a quiet and late morning. What an agonizingly long morning! The dreadful crows of her roosters woke her from her deep slumber. Her house cats, who scratched her bedroom door, collided with the loud squeaks and playful nature of her little piglets outside her room. This morning was rougher than usual. The only thing pushing her through was her morning prayer. She prayed for a break from her mundane, soul-sucking life. In a rare turn of events, her neighbor offered to look after her animals for a day. After years of being trapped in her barn, she felt blessed by her neighbor’s offer. There is so much freedom, yet so little time. So little that she didn’t bother to change her disheveled clothes as she traveled deep into the city, away from her lonesome little town.

As Joan entered the diner, she greeted the friendly waitress, who ran up to Joan, surprised by Joan’s rare visits.

“Good morning, Joan; it’s been a while. I assume business is booming, right?” The waitress asked.

Joan chuckled at the question. “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s booming, but it’s doing decent. Same customers and all, ma’am,” Joan said as her southern accent blossomed.

“Ma’am? Oh, please. You make me sound like I’m your grandmother. Just call me by my name,” the waitress said.

“Sorry, ma’am.” Joan snickered as she heard the waitress groan.

During their conversation, Joan couldn’t help but let her eyes roam around the diner. Architecture-wise, everything had remained unchanged since her last visit. The same old, yet beautiful, paintings of previous owners adorn the walls. The sound of jazz music from the record player was soothing the worries Joan carries in her heart. It’s the same genre her mother adored listening to and dancing to with Joan’s father. She couldn’t help but clutch onto her cross necklace as she looked around.

Then everything came to a halt as her eyes met the dull pair of eyes of a gentleman with a cap on. The colorful atmosphere of the diner, in contrast with his almost black-and-white clothing, made him stick out like a sore thumb. He had a creepy aura that the average individual would stay away from. His pale porcelain skin and the small bags under his eyes. His face displayed a bored expression. However, in a split second, she noticed the blood behind his eyes. His soul is calling out for someone—someone to comfort him. For once, ease the burden off of his body. But how does one get his attention?

“Wow, what a handsome lad!” Joan exclaimed.

Margaret shrieked before she slapped her hand on Joan’s mouth and gripped her wrist, hoping the men didn’t hear Joan’s comments. The gentlemen didn’t seem to hear the ladies as they conversed.

“You can’t say such things out loud, Joan,” the waitress said.

“What? I’m stating the obvious. He’s a real sheik. Do you know who that gentleman is?” Joan asked as her heartbeat blocked out the sound of jazz music.

“No clue. I assume both are new in town. I’ve never seen those fellas before.” Margaret said.

Joan clapped at the revelation. “Splendid, I wish to speak with them both, particularly with the gentleman with the flat cap. I bet he knows how to treat a lady,” Joan said, with hearts floating around her head as she pulled away from Margaret’s tight grip. Margaret stood there, annoyed by her friend’s immodest thoughts and behavior. Oh, how she wanted to tug on Joan’s earlobe and scold her like a child. Unfortunately, once Joan was interested in a man, nothing would stop her from snatching him. Margaret sighed in defeat before returning to work.

Little did the ladies know, Joan would speak with Angelo Lagusa, the dangerous mafia member.

“Good morning, gentlemen. If it’s not any trouble, may I join you both for breakfast?” Joan asked as she sat up straight in her chair.

There was a pregnant pause as one of the two men looked dumbfounded at the request of a stranger. It’s not often a woman requests to spend time with both men.

The hazel-eyed man shrugged his shoulders before responding to her question. “Knock yourself out,” he said with a dull voice as he ate his breakfast. His bored attitude broke Joan into a sweat.

His partner, fortunately, had a more enthusiastic attitude about her request.

“What a lovely lady you are, and you have an adorable accent, too. Don’t worry about him; he’s a hardass. The name’s Nero, and this little fella is Avilio,” Nero said as he slapped Avilio’s back, though Avilio’s stoic expression remained.

“Pleased to meet you, sir; I’m Joan. Thank you both for letting me stay,” she stuttered, taken aback by the man’s preppy behavior. He went to shake her hand as she introduced herself to Nero and his friend? Sure, let’s go with that. What’s interesting is that Nero’s aura was stranger and creepier than Avilio’s. It was almost like she had seen him before, which was impossible. However, the icky feeling inside her was burdening her. She swore she felt this way before as an adolescent.

“Ah, a polite girl. If I didn’t have my hands tied up on business, I would’ve asked you out on a date.” Nero teased as he caressed her chin.

“Oh, I don’t think you can handle me, mister Nero. I’m a bit of a wild beast,” Joan said in a sultry voice as she fluttered her eyelashes.

“I have all the time in the world to get to know you, babe. Give me a time and a place.” Nero winked at her.

“You realize you don’t have time to fool around, right? Don’t get her hopes up,” Avilio reminded Nero, which resulted in Nero groaning and Avilio rolling his eyes.

“And you, newsboy? You’re rather quiet. Why is that?” Joan asked, trying to break the iceberg with him while she tugged on his suspenders.

Avilio shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing to add to the conversation, that’s all,” he said in a monotone voice that made Joan grind her teeth. She let go of his suspenders, slapping them across his chest. He can’t be this plain! What a blank canvas of a personality!

“I hate to bother you, little missy, but do you know any cheap motels nearby?” Nero asked.

“Not that I’m aware of. There is a small town, Khota, that has an auto camp. You can stay for free there,” Joan explained.

“Perfect, let’s go,” Avilio said as he stood up to put on his coat, leaving his half-eaten breakfast on the table.

“Aww, leaving already? Don’t you want to stay a bit?” Joan asked with a sultry voice as she crossed her legs.

However, Avilio looked unimpressed at her attempts at flirting. “Sorry, but we have business to attend to,” he said.

Joan whined at his insistence. “Can I come with you guys, please?” She pouted as she fluttered her eyelashes.

Before Avilio responded, a large, muscular man who reeked of cigarettes bumped into him. Though unfamiliar with Avilio, the sight of the man boiled Joan’s blood.

“Move it, bud. I ain’t got all day. Oh, Joan, it’s been a while. I see you’ve taken off those shackles. Are you still friends with those pigs of yours?” The man poked fun at her, earning him a glare.

“Not today, Mike. You know, it’s rare for me to have a day off. And for your information, those pigs are lovelier to be around than you,” she said.

Judging by the visible sweat marks on his clothing, despite the chilly winds and the foul odor from his mouth, Mike had been drinking earlier. He was the worst type of drunk—an excitable flirt.

“Ah, so you’re free tonight? It must be my lucky day. Hmmm, how much?” Mike smirked before eating Avilio’s half-eaten breakfast.

“Excuse me?” Joan asked, clutching her fists.

“What? A man has urges, and you do, too. I know you’re short on money, Doll, so do we have a deal?” Mike asked as he licked her lips and winked.

“Forgive me, Father.” Joan took off her cross necklace before she tossed the half-empty cup of coffee into Mike’s face. The burning sensation of the coffee made Mike scream in agonizing pain. Her action made everyone in the diner jump, especially Avilio.

Mike slammed his fists onto the table, breaking the table in half, and got up from his seat. With the fiery rage of Joan’s rejection, adding to his humiliation, he was ready to fight back. However, before he could comment on what happened, someone interrupted him.

“You got some nerve to ask her that, you low-life. Is this what you do for a living? Harass women until you get some pity favors? Frankly, that’s pathetic,” Avilio defended Joan, leading to Mike pushing Avilio against the wall, squeezing his throat, and turning poor Avilio red as an apple. The choked breathing echoed in the restaurant. Avilio’s nails scratched Mike’s hands and wrists, begging for an escape.

Joan, to save Avilio, grabbed a wine bottle from the restaurant and smashed it on top of Mike’s head. The liquid spilled all over the white floor and Mike’s coat. By a miracle, Mike let go of Avilio’s throat as he soothed his head. Joan stole Mike’s gun, pointing toward him without a shred of anxiety.

“If you’re smart enough, then the wine will be the only thing spilled on these floors,” Joan said with venom. “Get out, and don’t you ever think of touching my friend again,” she demanded of him.

Mike, shaken by her change of behavior, ran away, leaving a trail of footsteps. But cleanliness was not the most important thing on her mind.

“Are you alright, Avilio?” Joan rushed towards him, examining him for any injuries.

Avilio nodded and smiled at her. Though it was a small gesture, she felt excited that their potential relationship was growing. “You saved me back there; thank you,” he said, ruffling her hair.

“Joan!” Margaret shouted. “Are you alright, darling? He didn’t hurt you, right?” Margaret asked as she examined Joan.

“I apologize, babe, but we have to go now. We hope to see you around!” Nero shouted as he dragged poor Avilio away from the restaurant. However, Avilio glanced through the diner’s windows and noticed a strange man crawling underneath the chairs the three were sitting on. He scoffed as he saw an older man with ripped clothes and dirt on his run-down, open-toed boots stealing Joan’s cross necklace. That forgetful girl!

“Wait for me here, Nero,” Avilio instructed as he ripped away from Nero’s grip and rushed inside the diner. When he arrived, he rolled his eyes as Avilio noticed that Joan and Margaret had disappeared, but he needed to act quickly. So, he kicked the stranger’s stomach and stepped on his wrist.

“What are you doing? You know that’s not yours, right?” Avilio asked, glaring down as he stepped harder on the man’s wrist, setting the necklace free, and the man howled in pain. Avilio was close to breaking his wrist until the man apologized profusely.

“Let’s go, Avilio!” Nero shouted outside the restaurant, leaving Avilio to snatch the necklace and run back to the car.

“Hey, doesn’t that belong to that Joan girl?” Nero asked as he sat in the passenger’s seat and noticed the necklace wrapped around his partner’s wrist.

“It did. I couldn’t find Joan inside, and we had to go.” Avilio shrugged his shoulders as he turned on the engine.

“I don’t know much about jewelry, but I bet that necklace can make us millionaires by selling it,” Nero said, hinting at his partner.

“We’re not doing that. We’re coming back here tomorrow,” Avilio declared, making Nero groan in annoyance. “We have other ways of making dough,” Avilio said as he drove them to the small town, though at a snail’s speed to avoid a collision and because of the grey clouds covering the sky.

The next morning came with harsh winds complementing well with the grey sky. The pale, lonely girl with heavy bags under her eyes was biking back to the diner with lots of food in her basket from her farm. When the owner caught wind of what had occurred, he made a deal with Joan. She needs to compensate for the damages, he won’t press any charges against her. They settled on her bringing the diner food from her barn free of charge, which she had no problem with.

“I’m sorry again, Margaret,” Joan said as she put the food in its rightful place. “I hope I brought enough food.”

“I’m sure the owner is happy with the free food. Be careful next time, please! You’re lucky the owner didn’t ban you from his diner or press any charges,” Margaret scolded before her eyes widened as she noticed the missing family artifact on Joan. “Darling, you took off your necklace?” Margaret asked before Joan clutched Margaret’s apron and heard her friend’s sniffles.

“I lost it, Margaret. I lost my necklace. Mother and father, they’re gone,” she sniffled. “I looked everywhere, from the deepest soils of my farm to every drawer in my house. It’s gone! For the love of God, have you seen it, Margaret? Please?” Joan asked as she was on her knees, clutching onto Margaret as her tears poured down like a waterfall.

“I’m sorry, darling, but the last time I saw it, you had it on yesterday,” Margaret explained.

“Damn it! I’m an idiot!” Joan exclaimed as she shook Margaret.

A ring from the front doorbell interrupted their conversation.

“Please don’t tell me you both are fighting. It’s early morning.” The familiar voice of Nero echoed, causing Joan to shriek. Once she sees Avilio, she aggressively wipes her tears with her friend’s apron.

“Wow, you’re both back? How unexpected. Why are you back?” Joan asked as she used her hair as a shield to hide her bloodshed and puffy eyes.

“It’s a diner. What do people do at diners?” Avilio asked sarcastically.

“Right,” she says, clearing her throat. “I’m sorry, that was a dumb question,” she said in a trembling voice.

Avilio slowly tugs her hair behind her ears, exposing the bloodshed eyes and the tears on her cheeks. “Are you alright?” he asked, caressing Joan’s cheek.

Before she could respond, Nero jumped into the conversation.

“Sorry to interrupt this little moment, but we have to get going soon, Avilio,” Nero said. “I’ll be in the car. Just hurry up,” he said before rushing out of the diner.

“You’re leaving?” Joan asked.

“Yeah, we had to leave for business,” Avilio explained.

“Here, Avilio, I want you to have this,” she said as she rushed to grab a napkin and a pen. “In the short time I met you, you truly excited me like no one else would. Call me whenever you want. I prefer you to call during the nighttime,” Joan winked.

Avilio glanced at the napkin before folding it and placing it inside his pocket.

He took out a piece of paper and, at first, Joan believed he was writing a number for her to call. But after a few minutes of hearing the pen scratching the paper, her body tensed up as a million thoughts flooded through her head. Could it be a letter? What for? Is he rejecting her?

However, her thoughts drowned out as Avilio handed the paper to her.

“You’re a good girl, Joan. Be careful who you associate yourself with. It would be disheartening to read the papers and have your death be the headline,” Avilio said. “You can read that note and decide if you still want to associate with me.”

Joan looked puzzled as she read the letter. It started with basic information about him, like his real name being Angelo Lagusa and not Avilio. But then her jaw dropped to the floor at what he wrote next. Avilio went to school and church with her, yet he never introduced himself to her. He just watched her from afar.

It started on a harsh winter morning with icicles on every doorknob and feet of snow. They were trapped inside the church. The church authorities announced they would stay inside until it was safe to go home. Angelo’s little brother, Luce, was tensed throughout the morning. Luce kept biting his nails and his fingertips, clinging tightly to his big brother, and taking shaky breaths. Then the lights began to flicker, causing Luce to cry with his nails digging into Angelo’s skin. It wasn’t until they both heard the piano playing in the music room nearby. The soft hands of a young girl played Chopin as she glanced at the window, where the harsh winds pushed the tree branches into the window. A teary-eyed Luce walked up to her with awe in his eyes, leaving Angelo debating with himself. Grab his brother and potentially expose himself to the stranger. Or stay where he was? Luckily, Angelo didn’t have to decide since his little brother clapped in the middle of the girl’s performance. A loud thud and a hiss from the girl caused Luce to apologize excessively.

“It’s ok; it’s ok. I didn’t hear you come in, sweetie.” She reassured the little boy as she rubbed her knee. “A nasty storm outside, no?”

Luce nodded as he bit his nails.

“Everything will be alright as long as we are in the house of the Lord.”she said.

Before Luce responded, the power went out, causing him to cry.

Both Angelo, who was behind the door of the music room, and the girl’s heart ached at Luce’s cries. The girl gently picked him up and rocked him in her arms.

“It’s ok, sweetie. You’re safe. I’ll protect you; nothing will hurt you.” She declared before she had an idea. She carefully seated back down, with the crying boy on her lap, and played one of her favorite pieces. The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.

Soon the cries turned into sniffles and later giggles.

The small interaction between the stranger and his little brother made Angelo’s heart race, warming his body despite the freezing temperature. Even with his serious demeanor, the storm outside shook him up, but her aura provided a calming presence. Who’s that girl?

“I’m Luce. What’s your name?” He asked as he clutched onto her shirt.

“I’m Joan. I’m new here. Nice to meet you, Luce,” she said with a smile.

A few months later, Luce and Joan had a brother-and-sister-like relationship. A piano lesson followed every church meeting. Their first Christmas went by, and a special boy’s birthday went by. Angelo, who still hid behind any corner in every room, observed all the individuals were in. Angelo grew to like Joan, despite not interacting before. How can he not like a girl who treats his little brother kindly? If only he had the guts to talk to her. But he disregarded any attempt to talk to her. He never imagined that feeling intimated by a girl would make him feel ecstatic.

But then, they canceled his scheduled piano lessons forever. He found out when Luce came crying to Angelo, announcing that Joan wouldn’t be coming back to church as rumors spread about the reason. Some say it is because her family has moved; others say she got kicked out of the church because of her behavior. Despite all the badmouth and rumors, there was no answer to the question. What happened to Joan? In the end, no one knew the tragedy of her family’s death. She stared down at the lifeless bodies of her mother and father before she ran away from her home. A brutal murder from the Venetti family.

“Do you still want to hang around me?”

“You have my number, no?” she asked in a playful voice. Although what Avilio had written shocked her, she understood his motive. The Venetti family has killed her family. She prays that Avilio, no, Angelo, achieves his goal. Not just for his family, but for hers.

She heard a groan from Angelo’s mouth as his teeth held onto a cigarette as he rummaged through his pockets.

“Hmm?”

Oh, so that’s where his lighter went. He couldn’t help but smirk. The student learned from the master. It’s funny how a small action can light a flame.

“Keep it,” Angelo said.

“Are you sure? This lighter looks pricy,” Joan explained.

Angelo hummed in response as he rummaged through his coat pocket. “Would you accept this instead?” He asked, which left Joan choking on air. The golden cross necklace with a ruby rose-colored heart. It’s her family’s cross necklace in his hand.

“You found it? Where did you find it?” She asked as she cradled the necklace.

“Next time, be careful where you place it. You put it on the table, but I suppose it fell to the ground as you pummeled that man. You know, some shmuck tried to sell it. He was a real pain about it, too,” Angelo explained.

Joan thanked him repeatedly as she embraced him tightly. “Thank you so much. My family thanks you. You’re such a sweetheart,” she said before pecking his cheek, leaving Angelo feeling a tingle on his cheek and his heart warming up. The same feeling he felt when he first saw her. Finally, a breaking point!

Nero whistled at the sight of his partner receiving affection, resulting in Angelo scoffing and rolling his eyes. Joan giggled at their interaction before placing another kiss on his cheek. The kiss blossomed another rosy-red blush on his face. Joan’s warm lips on his cold cheek caused butterflies to fly around his stomach. The smooth jazz playing lessened the tension in his shoulders.

“Time is running out, Avilio,” Nero reminded him.

Angelo cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you were the religious type.”

“I’m not really. My father made this necklace for my mother, and she gave me this necklace before they both passed away.” She explained and then kissed the cross. “You saved my mother and father. Thank you!”

Angelo chuckled. “I didn’t save anyone, but I appreciate your kindness,” he said before Angelo sighed. “Be careful out there, Joan. I’ll see you around.” he pecked her cheek. An almost innocent smile and glowing eyes reveal a sweet side to him. Her heart match the sound of the Chopin record scratched on the record player from seeing him walk away.

“Thank you for everything. You gave my brother a happy life before his was cut short,” he said before leaving the diner, returning to the car with his partner.

A quiet pause followed as she stared, dumbfounded by everything that occurred. The letter, the kiss, their goodbyes. It all hit her like a tsunami. Wait, he was Luce’s brother?

“So, any luck, darling?” Margaret eagerly asked as her heels woke Joan up from her flashback. After a long pause, Joan glanced back before sighing.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s more of a one-sided affair,” Joan explained as she tugged the paper close to her chest.

“I’m sorry to hear, dear. Don’t be so down. As they say, there are plenty of fish in the sea,” Margaret said as she caressed Joan’s back. “Well, at least you got something from him. What is that? A phone number? Maybe you still have a chance.”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Joan lied as she folded the paper and stuffed it inside her paper. “Still, I haven’t even gotten to dance with him,” Joan pouted.

“Darling, I know you long enough to know that you wanted to do more than dance with him. Honestly, you’re going to get yourself in trouble,” Margaret teased as she pinched Joan’s ear, earning Margaret a giggle from her friend.

So long, Angelo.

As Nero drives them away from the diner, Angelo glances back at the note and contemplates what to do. The rapid heartbeat when she was near and the chest ache, knowing he may never see her again, were all real. And that kiss—that sweet and innocent kiss on his cheek. It’s the first time he’s received affection from another person and possibly the last time. He rubbed his temple as he crumbled the paper.

“Do you plan on calling her?” Nero asked as he stopped at a red light.

“Not sure,” Angelo said as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Hey, if you don’t want to call her, don’t throw that paper out. Let me keep it,” Nero asked, feeling giddy about the potential of speaking with Joan again.

“Just focus on driving,” Angelo said dryly as he stuffed the paper in his pocket and stared into the baby blue sky, covered by the smoke of his lit cigarette. A storm was approaching.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Mobster

Chicago - 1931 The Height of Prohibition The mafia is earning top dollar smuggling alcohol into the country. And one mobster has his eye on you.

Yandere! Mobster who's a made man, who drives a nice car even after the stock market crash forced most people to sell theirs.

Yandere! Mobster who wears a tailored suit and fedora, his black hair swept back. Who everyone in the neighbourhood says is a good guy, a decent man, even if he does work for the don.

Yandere! Mobster who pulls up next to you when you're walking home from work. It's late and clouds are scudding across the moon.

Yandere! Mobster who leans out his window and offers to drive you home. Who says these streets ain't safe for a pretty girl like you.

Yandere! Mobster who's known you since you were children. Two kids from immigrant families, playing together in the tiny bits of open space your apartments could offer.

Yandere! Mobster who keeps looking at you and marvelling at how grown up you both are. Where did that scruffy little girl go? And when did you get so pretty?

Yandere! Mobster who spends the whole drive chatting about old times. Who makes you laugh at his stories about running from the landlady and stashing his school books behind the canteen.

Yandere! Mobster who leans over you and pulls the door closed when you move to get out. Who looks you dead in the eye when he asks if you're having trouble with your rent.

The mob is a big part of the community afterall, and he knows just about everything.

You drop your eyes, embarrassed. Your brothers have their own families to care for, you say. Things are hard but if you pick up a few more shifts at the factory, you might manage it.

Yandere! Mobster who sighs and digs in his suit pocket. Who pulls out a stack of cash and counts it right in front you.

Yandere! Mobster who offers you enough for two months of rent. A small fortune to someone from your part of town.

You shake your head, horrified. You can't afford the interest, you tell him.

Yandere! Mobster who scoffs and asks if you really think he's offering a loan when you've known each other for years? It's a gift, to keep your mama out of the cold.

Yandere! Mobster who smiles at the hesitant way you accept the money. You're too proud to ever ask for help and he knows it. Just like when you were kids.

Yandere! Mobster who gets out and opens the car door for you like a gentleman, even if he knows the whole apartment building will talk about it.

Yandere! Mobster who grins that charming, good guy smile even though he has a gun holstered under his jacket and a shovel in the trunk. Who says he'll consider things even if you cook him dinner some time.

Yandere! Mobster who visits your ma while you're at work. Who tells her he's interested in you and wants her blessing. And your ma is all too happy to give it. He's such a good boy, she says, and she knows he's always had a soft spot for you.

Yandere! Mobster who insists on driving you home after work everyday. Even when you blush and complain that he's going out of his way.

Yandere! Mobster who gratefully accepts the gifts you offer him. Fresh baked bread, jars of your mama's famous marinara sauce, homecooked meals... Who eats so much better when you take care of him.

Yandere! Mobster who eventually runs out of luck and straight into trouble. What was supposed to be a routine whiskey delivery turns out to be a sting operation.

Yandere! Mobster who sees his partner get a hole blasted right through him and almost die. Who fires at the cops until his tommy gun is red hot and smoking. Who ends up with so much blood on his hands he ain't sure it will ever wash off.

Yandere! Mobster who finds himself at your door afterwards, his coat drenched by the rain.

Yandere! Mobster who doesn't resist when you pull him inside and strip away his jacket and shirt. There's blood on your hands after you hang up his coat, and you pretend not to notice it.

Yandere! Mobster who can see your curiosity fighting against your sense. In the end, you don't ask him a single question about it.

Yandere! Mobster who sinks gratefully into the bath you draw for him. And who falls asleep the second his head hits your pillow.

Yandere! Mobster who's gone by morning. His bloodstained coat gone with him.

Yandere! Mobster who asks around about you and finds out you've got a whole score of fellas vying for your hand.

Yandere! Mobster who let's it be known that he's interested in you and watches with satisfaction as all your potential suitors drop away.

Except for one. He just spits and says you're a grown woman and can choose your own man.

Yandere! Mobster and his buddies pick the guy up after a late shift. Tie his hands behind his back and gag him before they toss him in the trunk.

Yandere! Mobster who beats the shit out of him. Who breaks his nose with a knuckle duster and his ribs with a crowbar. Who grabs his hair with bloody fingers and hisses that you're off limits.

Yandere! Mobster whose buddies lounge against the warehouse wall and smoke, never bothering to question what a simple dock worker did to deserve such a brutal beating.

Yandere! Mobster who sniffs your hair when you hug him. He's like a dog - always making sure other men haven't left their scent on you.

Yandere! Mobster who let's his hands wander when he takes you out dancing. Who kisses you goodnight and let's his lips brush your neck before he pulls away.

Yandere! Mobster who goes home and jerks off to you, his teeth bared and head bent forward. Who snarls at you to take it, take it like a good girl.

Yandere! Mobster who tells his don about you - how pretty you are, how clever, how discreet. The man leans back in his chair and pulls on his cigar.

She'll never make a liar of you. You should marry her just for that.

Yandere! Mobster who shows up at your door a week later, an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket.

Be my girl. And I promise I'll take care of you.

You think about the night he came to you covered in blood and not speaking a word. You think about your friend from the docks and the way he dissappeared. You think about the way people look away when you're with him in public.

You say yes, as though you have a choice.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan! PJO + HOO the first time they tell that they love the Reader? You can choose the characters you want to write! Love you work 🥰💕

❝ 🌊 — lady l: I only did a few, since you gave me the freedom of choice. I hope you like it and if you want a part 2 with other characters, I will do it! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes!

❝warnings: none, just fluff, very soft!yandere and me being a cheesy romance reader.

❝🌊characters: percy jackson, annabeth chase, grover underwood, luke castellan, jason grace, nico di angelo, will solace, piper mclean and leo valdez.

❝dividers by: @cafekitsune 💙

❝Yan!PJO/HOO ❝The first time they say: ''I love you.''

Percy Jackson had never been good at expressing his feelings in the healthiest way. He knew he loved you, he knew it from the first time he met you but he didn't know how to put those feelings into words, he just knew how to show them.

And he showed in an unconventional way how much he cared about you, how much he loved you. His favorite way and the one that worked the most, in his mind, was being a bully to those who bothered you. He once almost drowned Clarisse to death after she knocked you down in training. Percy only stopped when you begged him to do so.

He knew there was failure at the moment, so he decided to have another strategy. He needed to confess what he was feeling, get those suffocating feelings out. With the advice of some friends, Percy decided to ask you to go swimming with him. When you were sitting on the riverbank, chatting away, Percy used his powers and made several hearts with the water, along with the sunset, it became a romantic environment.

He got close to her face, held her hands tenderly and whispered loud enough, ''I love you.''

When his lips connected, Percy knew he had known true happiness.

Annabeth Chase always knew what she wanted and when she wanted it and she knew she wanted you. She knew it since she met you at Camp Half-Blood and she knew you were meant to be hers.

Due to her more reserved personality regarding her feelings, Annabeth didn't have much of an idea of how to express them to you. A simple ''I love you'' could be enough, but she wanted something more. She was proud and wanted something that really screamed for her.

So she spent weeks planning how everything would go. The atmosphere, the lighting and the exact words she would say to you. Annabeth had a whole plan, everything was carefully planned. She invited you to go with her to a more distant part of the camp, where you could be alone.

Everything was going as he wanted, the silence was good, the light was beautiful and most importantly, you were there. After you ate some fruit and talked a little, Annabeth knew this was the time. But she got nervous and could no longer say the speech she had planned, so all that came out of her lips was, ''I love you.''

But that was enough. She was slightly blushing and felt her chest fill with happiness when you said you felt the same and when you kissed her.

Grover Underwood is much more cautious in its approach. He is a satyr who is shyer than the others, more reserved, especially towards you. He knew he was in love, but he wasn't sure if you loved him back.

And the gods knew how much it would break him if you rejected him.

So Grover chose to just be friends with him, to yearn for you from afar. He was satisfied with this choice, with this position in his life, but it didn't take long for him to be consumed by jealousy when he saw another demigod or satyr near you. That's when he knew he couldn't stay in the shadows any longer.

He asked Percy and Annabeth for advice, who advised him to be direct, but be more romantic when confessing to you. Grover was still afraid of being rejected, but he couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least try. When the moon was in the sky and the stars were shining and the two of you just watched it, that was when he gained courage.

Grover was a bit confused with his words, but he managed to say everything he wanted. When he said, ''I love you'', you pulled him into a breathless kiss, sealing your love. Grover almost melted in his arms.

Luke Castellan was much more interested in his revenge against the gods than in his feelings. He tried at all costs to ignore them, that is, ignoring you, but it got to the point where he could no longer ignore what he felt.

He was soon overcome by feelings of jealousy, of anger that left him breathless when he saw you near another demigod. When you spent your time with others other than him. He knew he was being a hypocrite, after all, he was the one who left but that didn't mean you could replace him.

When he saw you laughing with one of Aphrodite's children, that's when he knew he had to make it clear who you belonged to. During a cold, calm night at camp, Luke invited you to walk along the beach because he wanted to talk to you.

His eyes widened slightly when the son of Hermes held your hands and with gentle words, the gentlest you had ever heard come out of his mouth, he confessed how he felt to you. You were surprised, even more so when you heard him say, ''I love you.''

Luke waited for your return and when you said you felt the same, he kissed you. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt happy.

Jason Grace was nervous about his feelings, shy even. He was confident in many ways, but he didn't know how to tell you, the person he loved most, how he felt. He had no idea how to make you see the truth, see what he really felt and not just words that could be empty depending on the context and the person.

He was sitting by the lake, watching the gentle waves as he tried to collect his thoughts. Jason knew he needed to find the courage to express his feelings, but every time he tried, the words seemed to slip out of his mouth, leaving him even more frustrated.

He picked up a smooth pebble and began to throw it into the water, watching the circles form and slowly dissipate. It was like his feelings, he thought. They were there, clear as water, but they were lost before reaching the surface.

The sun was setting over the horizon, dyeing the sky in orange and pink tones, while Jason felt increasingly restless. He knew he needed to find a way to show the truth, to make you understand without his words faltering. With his mind made up, he got up and walked to where you were sitting, looking at the sunset.

With a lump in his throat and his heart pounding, he sat next to her, took a deep breath and, on impulse, took her hand and let the words full of feelings come out of his mouth, in love, ''I love you. '', it was said and when he finished speaking, you kissed him passionately, admitting that you loved him too. Jason could die right then and there and he would be happy.

Nico di Angelo was afraid to admit what he felt, he was afraid for you. He didn't want to accept that he was in love, no, that he loved you deeply because he was afraid. Being a demigod was already a danger in itself, but being a child of the Big Three, a forbidden child, only made everything more difficult. But he was selfish, he couldn't stay away from you.

He struggled daily with his own feelings. The weight of being a demigod, a son of Hades, added an extra burden to his already tormented heart. Nico tried hard to hide his passion for you, fearing the consequences of this forbidden love.

Yet his soul longed to be close to you, even if it meant defying divine rules and risking his own safety. He found himself torn between the responsibility to protect himself and the uncontrollable need to be by her side. Every moment together was an internal battle for Nico.

He tried to be distant, but your presence next to him was constant. His eyes held deep secrets, and his silence hid the intensity of what he felt.

One day, when the pressure became unbearable, he summoned the courage to confess. With hesitant words, he revealed the whirlwind of emotions he carried with him. He was afraid of her reaction, but he could no longer deny the love that consumed him. Nico just let the words come out, he didn't try to stop them or control them, he just vented his feelings and when he said, ''I love you'', that's when he knew there was no going back. When you kissed him and returned his feelings, Nico almost cried.

Will Solace was excited to confess to you, to the person he loved so much. He could already imagine your future together and happily. But he was still unsure how to confess to you and he knew it would need to be at least perfect.

He was determined to make this confession a memorable moment. Will spent days thinking about how to express his feelings in the most sincere and meaningful way possible. One afternoon, while walking through the Camp, he saw some flowers that were planted by Demeter's children and, after asking their permission, he had an idea.

With determination, Will began to set the stage for his confession. The chosen location was a clearing near a waterfall, a peaceful place full of meaning for both of them. He spent hours arranging the petals, creating a delicate, winding path to a central point, where he positioned a carpet of grass, adorned with more flowers, forming a heart.

When you arrived at the place, with your heart pounding, Will took a deep breath and, with all sincerity and love, expressed his feelings. He talked about how much the person meant to him, how precious every moment shared was, and how he envisioned a future filled with adventure and joy together.

''I love you.'' Will said, his eyes shining with love. He waited for his reaction and when you hugged him, kissed him, he knew it was worth it. You were worth it.

Piper McLean was confident that you loved her back, not more than she did because no one else could love you like she did. She was very confident and knew exactly what to say and what to do to tell you how she felt. For her, all that was needed was words and a kiss to seal everything. She was a daughter of Aphrodite, after all, no matter how different she is from her half-siblings.

Her confidence was like an aura around her as she approached. Piper knew how to seduce with words, but this time, it was something deeper, something that went beyond the persuasion skills typical of a son of Aphrodite.

She approached you with a smile, her eyes full of determination and tenderness. It was like she knew exactly what you were thinking, like she could read your mind. With a gentle touch to her face, she whispered words that would echo in her mind for a long time.

''I love you.'' It was her first words after a long look and when she saw your face blush slightly, Piper knew what she would have to do.

You felt the warmth of her hand on her face, her eyes shining with a rapturous sincerity. Piper approached slowly, lips hovering close to hers, an emotionally charged silence stretching between you. When they broke apart, she looked into his eyes, a tender smile playing on her lips. There were no more doubts, no words needed. What existed there was a mutual understanding, a palpable love that no divine power could overcome.

Leo Valdez was always that type of person who lit up any room with his contagious energy and playful way. His relaxation and optimism were like magnets, attracting those around him. However, behind his constant jokes and his eccentricity, there was something deeper that he couldn't easily express: his love for you.

He looked for ways to show his feelings, but his mischievous nature and his difficulty in saying what he felt complicated him. He wrote letters, tried to be more serious at times, but always ended up turning everything into a joke, too nervous to express his true affection.

One day, in the middle of one of your games, Leo suddenly stopped, looked into your eyes and, with a somewhat awkward smile, said: "Did you know that I love you?" You almost spat out the drink you were drinking, without having not sure if he was just joking or serious.

When it became clear that it wasn't a joke, you stayed quiet for a few seconds, until Leo pulled you into a hug, placing his head in the crook of your shoulder. You closed your eyes and melted into the warm embrace.

''I love you.'' Leo whispered, holding you tightly.

[pigfacedbitch]

Let's Break Up (I)

summary : you try to do the break up prank on your boyfriend.

word count : 0.5k

type : headcanons

pairing/s : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : none

here is my masterlist! Part II is composed of Leo, Frank, and Will.

Jason Grace

"Let's break up."

Jason is formally trained to remain calm and level-headed in the most drastic of situations ever since he was young.

So if you're expecting him to look surprised or upset, he won't.

Don't be fooled though, he may look like he's listening as you explain but deep inside this electric boy is panicking! 😂

"Okay, Jason. What in Jupiter's name have you done to make (Y/N) upset? Think! THINK!"

It might take a while for Jason to respond because he is torn between asking you what he can do to fix it, what he did wrong, or just be desperate and beg you to stay with him.

So he does what any Roman would do in his place. Accept his fate.

He fixes his composure and coughs a little to avoid his voice from cracking.

"If that's what you think is best, I understand-"

"It's just a prank, love."

"Thank the gods."

You never knew your boyfriend could sigh that hard.

Jason laughs in relief and hugs you tightly, like he wasn't thinking of crying his heart out and eating ice cream alone in the Zeus cabin later.

He'll never tell you that though.

Percy Jackson

"I want to break up."

"Nope."

Percy just can't see the two of you breaking up. No matter how much he tries, he knows it's literally imposible.

He already has a list of plans; when he will propose, where to get married, where you'll spend the rest of your lives together, how many children you two will have, and their names. Even the number of pets allowed in your future home.

But you don't give up easily.

"What do you mean, no? Isn't that my decision?"

"OUR decision, (Y/N). And I say no."

"But-"

"No buts, baby. If you're tired of this relationship then rest. We'll try again in the morning."

You just pout in defeat, taking a bite of the blue chocolate chips cookies his mother made for him before he left for Camp Half-Blood.

He smirks like the handsome devil he is, pulling you into his arms and lays his head on your shoulder.

"There's no getting rid of me, (Y/N). You're stuck with me forever."

He doesn't notice the small smile on your face, preferring not to have it any other way.

Nico Di Angelo

"I was thinking of breaking up."

He would shadow travel even before you could say another word.

Just YEETS HIMSELF OUT😌

Good luck trying to find him because he would be nowhere to be found. You already asked everyone yet nobody knows where he is.

Hours passed, no sign of him. You got truly worried that you can't even fall asleep.

You were just laying on your bed, staring into nothing when you hear a knock on your window.

It's Jules-Albert, holding a bag of McDonalds with your favorite foods and drink. It also has a note.

"Just think about what you said with a full stomach. You do stupid shit when you're hungry."

You don't know if you should be offended or laugh.

Still in your pajamas, you run to the Hades cabin and knock on his door. No one answers.

You do feel a pair of arms around your waist and cold nose nuzzling your neck.

You turn your head to kiss Nico's cheek as he leans more into you. He then whispers in your ear-

"I love you, tesoro mio. Don't scare me like that again."

Gods, you didn't have the heart to tell him it was a prank.

[bomber-grl]

Cuddle/Sleep Headcanons 💤🌙

Pairing(s): characters x Gn!reader

Character(s): Percy, Jason, Leo, Frank, Hazel, Annabeth, Piper, Calypso, Ethan, Nico, Octavian, Reyna

Percy Jackson

He’s a horrible sleeper

I mean sure, you can sleep and cuddle like the couple you are

However, that doesn’t stop him from sleeping wildly

Limbs sprawled all over the freaking place and the only reason you know is because of the concerning amount of times you’ve woken up under some of them

To make it worse?

He’s a blanket hogger

He doesn’t rlly hog it in the sense that he steals it all

I mean he does, but he sorta just slides off the bed and takes the rest of the blanket with him

The urge to just 🔫

But yea 😞

Nice to cuddle with but not to sleep with sorry not sorry

6/10

Jason Grace

Kinda stiff ngl

Like damn bitch, you live like this?

Plus he sleeps on his back face up 😭😭😭

Like wtf Jason

Are u ok?

In terms of actually cuddling, he’s pretty good

His arms are firm and his hugs are tight yet comforting

Plus he smells pretty good

Like no joke

I’d kinda see you sleeping on his chest since bro sleeps on his back

It’s nice but the stiffness is not appreciated 🙅

Atleast he’s not a blanket hogger and he’s quite considerate with the blankets and stuff

So

8/10

Leo Valdez

He sleeps two different ways

The first way is pretty compacted

What I mean is, he sleeps he sleeps bundled up by the blanket in a blanket burrito

The other one is where he sleeps sprawled out, limbs all over the place, blanket discarded

Just like Percy

So when he’s in a blanket burrito best believe he’s taking you with him

He usually does this during winter because he naturally runs hot

Anyway, he pulls you in and kinda bundled the blanket around you two for you guys to cuddle and be as close as possible

But when he’s sprawled out with his limbs everywhere he likes to cuddle with you on top of him

That or you’re abused and crushed by him in your sleep

Plus yknow how he runs hot? Well it’s absolute hell

It’s so hot and honestly suffocating when he’s sleeping on you 💀

Throw him on the ground pls

Ima rate him a 7/10 cuz he ain’t bad and if anything I love him so 🤷

Frank Zhang

He’s the best

Sorta…

He’s obviously huge so

He fully embraces you and hugs you so it’s pretty comfortable

And he sleeps on his side or stomach so there’s plenty of room

Even if he’s a bit stiff he’s still pretty nice to cuddle with

He’s pretty considerate on how you like to sleep/cuddle

He likes holding you so he’s not that picky

Honestly nothing to complain about with him

Except for one thing…

You can’t tell me this guy doesn’t fart 😐

I’m sorry but he just gives me those vibes

And it’s so bad

And not even on purpose either

It just happens but it’s the most traumatic thing ever

He feels pretty bad too 😭

Also when y’all are sleeping you just end up on different sides of the bed

He’s just casually on top of the blanket and you can’t even pull it from under him

You’re left shivering in the cold

Hazel Levesque

I love her 🫶

I see her sleeping on her sides and stomach tbh

She’s so sweet too

She loves to cuddle with you and even tho she doesn’t rlly have a firm grip she still likes to hold you

She especially likes to sleep on you

Either on your chest or just cuddled up to you

And she smells pretty sweet

Like clean laundry too like lawd

But ofc there’s gotta be some downsides

There’s isn’t really none with her, but with you

You end up stealing the blankets and hazel wakes up mad and cranky

That’s all and she quickly forgives you

Annabeth Chase

Sleeps on her back or side

She doesn’t really like cuddling all that much

She prefers to have some space and stuff when she sleeps

But if you want, she’s open to cuddling

She loves to both be held and to hold you

Mostly it’s mutual holding

Plus she probably sleeps with the fan on

Idk how to explain it

If you’re the type to always talk during night time then she’d react differently

Like if you gotta sleep asap cuz of the mission and all you do is yap

Then she’s turning her back on you and ignoring

What a meanie

At least she apologizes the next day but still

I don’t rlly see her stealing the blanket or anything but she is pretty stiff

Like besides hugging and stuff she lowkey just lets you hug her when she doesn’t feel like moving

Mood

Also since she smells good ofc ur gon sniff and she’ll be weirded out and ignore u this way too 😞

Piper McLean

She sleeps anyway tbh

She pretty cuddly and likes to snuggle w you

She usually likes to be held, but either way is fine

Especially after a fight or exhausting time with monsters

She’ll hold you in her arms too

She smells pretty nice and if you say so?

Well she finds it endearing

Unlike a certain someone

*cough cough* annabeth

But yea she’s the best

But she won’t hesitate to kick you out if you refuse to share the blanket

She gets enough crap from Leo

Who is just constantly annoying her

Calypso

The best

Like she fr loves to cuddle

With everything she’s been through best believe she’s the best cuddler

Honestly she sleeps whatever way

She’s another who loves to be held and to hold others

Especially if you’re hurt or anything

Then she’s try and tend to you

Even in sleep

Most times she’s a small spoon

She’s loved so many people who never loved her back

So perhaps she’s just a tad bit touch starved

And would obviously give in to any affection

As previously mentioned she loves to hold you too

Mostly just having you lean on her shoulder or lay on her lap but it also extends to cuddling on occasion

She’ll have you lay on her chest and in her arms and play with your hair

Ethan Nakamura

He’s so stiff it’s painful

(Not actually)

He’s definitely loyal, the books show that much

So despite his personal feelings with touch (he’s no doubt another touch starved person) he’d like to cuddle with you nonetheless

Not much in the beginning but he’d definitely warm up to you

And in the process, realize how much he wants it

He’ll let you love him however you want (cuddle him) and let you play with his hair

Which he loves

Eventually he gets enough courage to reciprocate

But he’s still stiff

Not the best when hugging or cuddling you because of how flustered he gets

Once you two go to bed and he falls asleep, he gets pretty subconsciously protective so he’ll hold you tight

Nico Di Angelo

Yes

Just yes

He loves to cuddle never made it obvious before tho

Another who was pretty stiff and touch starved

He gets over it quickly when he sees what you have to offer

I mean usually he just sleeps bundled up under the blankets, engulfed by their warmth

But with you there he just pulls you under the blankets with him so you can cuddle that way

Is mostly just mutual holding

He mostly just liked to intertwine your legs or hold onto you like a koala

I see him as a blanket stealer when you’re not glued together

He’s either super sleepy or not at all

When he’s tired he just drags you to bed, since that’s the only time nightmares don’t plague him

But when hes suffering from his insomnia he likes it when you stay up and talk with him

Idk to him it feels intimate but if you choose to go to bed, he won’t take it personally

If you play with his hair he won’t admit it but he loves it

Octavian

Ew.

Sorry I hate him but seeing that you’re here, you probs love him

So let’s get this over w

He’s rlly long and lanky and boney

Doesn’t stop yall from cuddling tho ig

And like a weirdo he sleeps on his back, arms to his side, head facing upward

Honestly probably obsessed with you

Only way he’d cuddle/ be in a relationship with you

He’s probably never been touched by another person

So he definitely likes to be held

Plus the bastard is selfish

And he doesn’t hold you

😐…

Yea so 1/10

I’m being generous

Reyna Ramirez-Arellano

I love her 😭🫶🫶

Yea she probs love you so ofc she’s gonna cuddle w u

Often times she’s busy with the duties of praetor so she can’t cuddle 😞

But it’s ok cuz when she can it’s the best

Not only is she holding you and making you feel cared after

But she also plays with your hair

Also you have to hold her

I don’t make the rules, just look at her, she needs it

When you do she’s a bit put off

But eventually she lets you coddle her

So more often than not she’s little spoon and comfortable

Just like she deserves

Yes beautiful

9/10

————————-

Note: I just realized Reyna is a hunter now idk why I even wrote hers 😭 maybe pre-hunter Reyna??? Idk man

[macfrog]

san angelo | one shot

what happens when joel miller meets his star-crossed lover?

big love to @mrsmando and @5oh5 for cheering me on with this one, and @bageldaddy for being my eyes, my ears, and - only sometimes - my brain.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so cordyceps outbreak happens, sarah dies (off-page), joel dissociates, doomed love, lots of mention of fate, alcohol consumption, reader is a smoker, cursing, drunken one-night stand, oral sex, unprotected piv, joel's cock is massive, a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lil smut to tie it all together. enjoy! word count: 9.8k

moodboard | main masterlist | playlist [in case you wanna vibe in sad] | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤍

Palm lines.

It’s the first thing he thinks as soon as she stops moving in his arms. The second her little whimpers cease, the moment her chest stops heaving and her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, Joel’s little girl weighs more than he can bear.

Palm lines. And he has no fucking idea why.

He closes his eyes and there you are. The whir of the ceiling fan, the tinkling of bracelets loose on your wrist. You have sorta earth hands, you told him. Or, well – they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way. I don’t really know. I’m still learning.

You told him that air hands were long, spindly. And Sarah was always a lanky kid – tallest on the soccer team, head and shoulders above the other girls by the third grade. Her hands, he thinks, must be air. They must be.

Her fingers are still twisted around his right now. Lifeless, slippery with the blood still wet and quickly cooling.

Joel cradles her, squeezing so hard that he wonders whether he might be able to fuse their bodies together. Lock them in some white-knuckle grip so that he never has to let go of her – never has to leave this hill covered in dirt and blood.

His palms are ruined; a maroon river carving its way down his heart line, dirt deep in the groove of his life line. Why does he even fucking remember what they’re called?

Why the fuck are you what he’s thinking about, right now?

“Tommy,” he says, opening his eyes again. “We gotta…we gotta get to…”

She’s limp, draped over his thighs as though she’s nothing more than a stretch of crimson curtain. He looks down at her and begs her to come back, begs her to open her eyes and look up at him again.

But the night is passing and she’s still not breathing. Dawn is breaking and Joel’s daughter is dead.

He sucks in a shattered breath. “…to San Angelo, Tommy.”

The younger Miller stuffs his gun into the back of his jeans and paces over, soles coated thick in shit and grass. “I hear you, Joel.”

“You ain’t listenin’ to me, I –”

“I’m listenin’ fine, Joel.” Tommy hooks his hands under his niece’s arms. “Now, help me lift her. We can’t…” his voice strains, fighting the death grip his brother has on the girl, “…we can’t leave her here.”

Joel’s frozen to the spot; sinking further and further into the earth. Staring at his open hands, the stains like rust on his palms. He says to San Angelo again, and Tommy snaps.

“Jesus, Joel, enough! I’ve heard enough goddamn it! I see your hands, now – we gotta fuckin’ bury Sarah.”

Your fate line, your nail tickled, and Joel held his hand steady, It can change, if something big is coming.

Somethin’ big? he asked. A little younger, a lot more naïve. Still a healthy dose of belief in the world, an echo of the god-fearing faith that raised him.

His hand felt so light, cradled in two of yours. He half hoped he’d never have to let go – just lie there with you forever. Your legs tangled with his, the sheets disturbed; the room injected with amber from the streetlights outside.

You nodded. A big shift, or something.

And he scoffed. He actually scoffed, right there and then. Incredulous. The hell kinda big shift is comin’ our way? he asked, laughing.

You just smiled back, shrugging. You were so fucking casual, that whole night. It would’ve unnerved him, if he hadn’t been so swept off by the sparkle in your eye, the glowing cherry of your cigarette.

Guess we just gotta wait ‘n see.

It’s August thirtieth, two thousand eight.

Almost five thousand miles on the back of a Harley, and Joel just wants to go home.

He arches his aching back, palms flat against the crests of his hips, and blinks in the light from the food mart in front of him. Twenty-six, he thinks to himself, only twenty-fuckin’-six.

It’s ninety degrees out. An uncomfortable heat, for a man who feels ten years older than he really is. For a man who hasn’t had a decent shower in almost two weeks. For a man who’s spent the last six hours tailing the brake lights of his little brother’s bike.

The sweat gathers sticky between his shoulder blades, prickles along the nape of his neck. There’s dust spattered down his bare arms and buried in the grooves of his knuckles.

He’s tired. He’s tired, he’s dirty, and goddamn, he wishes he was back home.

He holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, the yellow sky melting to a purple haze. Squinting, he follows the soar of two swallows overhead, looping through the sky, until he’s rubbing the image from his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He’s gotta remember to call Sarah before she goes to bed.

The door opens with the tinkle of a brass bell older and rustier than Joel feels. A swaggering figure splits the glow from the store in two – a figure with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and an already half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Tommy holds them both out to Joel, who swipes the water with a scowl.

“Ain’t killed you yet, brother,” Tommy scoffs, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket. He swings a frayed-denim leg over the seat of his Harley.

Joel drains the bottle, panting as he crushes the plastic in one fist. “Damn near tryin’,” he mutters, tossing it in the trash. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Where are we?” Tommy asks. He glances over his shoulder, staring from the cracked roads to the telephone wires overhead. A Syclone pulls into the lot; a dehydrated squeal as it rolls to a halt.

“San Angelo,” Joel says. “Only a few more hours to go.” He settles on his own bike, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We passed a Super 8 coming into town, if you feel like restin’ up. Or – we leave now, be home around midnight.”

Tommy chuckles. “What’s the rush? We ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

And Joel agrees – for the most part.

His mom is watching Sarah while they’re gone, and he reckons she’s hardly missing him. Too smart for her own good, Joel’s realizing: plotting and scheming her way into staying up past her bedtime, drinking Pepsi at dinner, watching Curtis and Viper – and swearing that her dad lets her do it all, too.

But, still. He misses his kid.

It’s the most they’ve ever been apart – time or distance. The longest he hasn’t had her climbing up his back or hanging off his arm. The least he’s been called Dad since he was eighteen years old.

He just…misses his kid.

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the body of the bike. “Tommy, I gotta get back home to Sarah.”

“Look,” Tommy says, and Joel knows that the argument is lost already, “By the time we got back, she’d be asleep anyways. Let’s leave in the morning – first thing, I swear – and we’ll be home in time for breakfast. Deal?”

They stare at one another, a stand-off in the parking lot. Both waiting for the other to break. The swallows gather on the roof of the store, basking in the weak wash of flickering fluorescents.

“Come on, brother,” Tommy pleads, “It’s one more night.” He lifts his helmet, punching it over his mop of shaggy hair, and kicks the bike to life.

Joel growls to himself, watching it drift over to the side of the road.

He considers heading to the Super 8 alone, grabbing a room only to shower and get some food, then hitting the road and leaving his little brother in the dust. Waiting for him to stumble through the door tomorrow morning – tired, groggy, probably hungover – while Joel, fresh as a daisy, drizzles syrup over Sarah’s pancakes and pours her orange juice.

He’s a pragmatic man. He’s a grown-up. Scares away the ghosts and ghouls and monsters of his daughter’s nightmares. Shushes her back to sleep in the crook of his arm, tiptoes as lightly as he can out of her room so as not to wake her.

Things like God, like the universe, things like horoscopes and laws of attraction…for the most part, Joel can do without them. Has done his whole life.

But then – the glow of indigo overhead, and the mysterious shadows lurking behind the buildings. The birdsong tittering in his ears, the twinkle of the sun in Tommy’s helmet – something distant in the dusty sphere.

Something, someone, winking at him from far away.

Something a little heavier than the breeze nudges at his spine, and Joel’s arms lift – fitting his own helmet over his head. He swings the heel of his boot into his kickstand and revs the bike, Harley roaring as it joins Tommy’s out on the boulevard.

Murphy’s is a small, green bar on the corner of an intersection. All peeled paint lettering and buzzing fluorescents – the y burnt out and pulsing.

Joel doesn’t think Tommy picked it for any reason other than the huge Lone Star mural on the side of the goddamn building, the way he tosses his thumb to it as they park up. A squint smirk on his face, muttering something like ‘s good to be home, big brother, as they hook helmets over handlebars.

Tommy leads Joel inside, their boots tacky on the wooden floor. Walls paneled by aged frames and sun-bleached photographs; air hanging thick with a smell like vinegar. The babble of slurred conversation is pierced by the sharp crack of pool balls breaking.

Metal-plate belt buckles snaked through strained jeans; low eyes which shift to size-up the two strangers. They all turn back to their fingerprinted glasses when Joel and Tommy settle into an empty booth.

It feels hotter in here than it is outside, stuffier. A thick humidity which clings to Joel’s bones, humming like the string lights draped from beams above his head.

Tommy reclines between the creaking leather cushion and the wall. He pokes at a yellowing poster of some Western, hums to himself, and then looks across the table.

Joel’s eyes loop once around the room before they meet his brother’s. “What?” he asks.

“First round is yours, old man.”

“Oh, is it, now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Thought this was your idea?”

A weedy grin stretches across Tommy’s lips. He needs to fucking shave, Joel thinks. Whiskers poking from around his small mouth like pine needles. “’s my birthday trip,” he reasons.

And can Joel argue with that? Does he have the fucking energy? Will it get him out of here and back to Austin any quicker?

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. He pushes himself to his feet, heels of his palms against the tacky wood.

He wanders over to the bar, tugging on the front of his tee to unstick it from his damp chest. Slots in beside an ivory cowboy hat with a pair of jeaned legs. The man fixes his bolo tie and watches Joel’s hand as he flags the bartender down.

And then he feels it.

You.

Then he feels you.

First, the weight of you – crashing some into his back. He shunts forward from the suddenness of it, knocking his ribs against the bar, and lifts a hand to brace himself on the ledge.

And then – heat, like an iron. Like every hair and freckle on your skin is branded into his the second you come into contact with him. A feeling like the roll of a wave against his spine, a hand hooked around his forearm when he begins to turn.

“Shit,” you hiss, steadying yourself on the curve of his shoulder. You glance down at your feet, clicking between your black boots. “I’m sorry, that was…that was my bad.”

“’s alright,” Joel says instantly. He holds his arm still until you let go and he sidesteps – though only a little. He watches, dumbstruck, as you rest your elbows on the bar and lean forward. His eyes linger on your back, trailing the crisscross straps wrapped tight over your spine.

You squint up at the menu pinned above shelves of crystal bottles. Your eyes move back and forth across the chalkboard, slowly descending until they’re meeting his in the speckled mirror opposite – a sweet smile growing on your lips.

It runs like whiskey through Joel’s veins: warm and dangerous.

And the way his head spins, the way the world blurs for a moment into one swipe of color around you; the way your cooing laugh echoes between his ears long after he’s heard it –

Joel’s already intoxicated.

He’s still staring when you pull back and motion to the bar. “You can go first, by the way,” you say, waving a hand. “I wasn’t cuttin’ in line. Just trying to read the drinks.”

“I’ll wait,” he replies, remembering how to be polite, how to be charming. Old cogs long out of use jerking to life inside him again. “Can’t read any of ‘em, either, anyways.”

It draws from you that same little laugh, a puff of air from your nostrils. You nod, biting your bottom lip.

He’s quickly forgetting why he’s stood in this room, why he’s in this city. He’d probably forget his own fucking name if you asked him right now what it was.

“’nother drink, darlin’?” a low voice interrupts, and you’re turning away.

Joel’s eyes follow you – a moth chasing something golden and radiant – as you face the wiggle of a snow-white mustache poking from beneath the brim of that ivory cowboy hat.

You shake your head, lifting two fingers with a bill slipped between them. “I’m good, thanks, George. Maybe next round.” You wave to the kid behind the bar – some name that Joel’s too fucking mindless to hear. Too distracted by the glint in your eye, the sparkle of your crescent moon earrings in the light.

If only he knew this feeling. If only he could put a name to it. As familiar as the sun and yet, brand new like dawn. His stomach swirls in a fleet of butterflies – as though he’s fifteen again, bumping elbows with his high school crush.

You nudge him, thumb pointing in the direction of the bartender.

Joel shakes his head. “Ladies first,” he says, heart skipping when you hold his stare.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, “Told you I ain’t jumping in.”

He asks the guy for two beers, barely taking his eyes off you. “Alright,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Then let me buy you a drink. Make up for gettin’ in your way just then.”

You prop your chin on your knuckles, grinning as you push your twenty around the wooden bar top, dodging pooled rings of alcohol like it’s an arcade game. “I don’t do that,” you say, eyes tracing the slick trail left by the bill.

“Do what?”

“Accept drinks from strange men in bars.”

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the taste of humor honey-sweet. “Yeah? ‘n how long have you known…” he nods to the – what is he, sixty? Sixty-five? – year-old on your right, “…George?”

Your gaze lifts, eyes wide. Apparently as impressed by Joel’s confidence as he is himself. “We’re actually in a very serious relationship. Marriage proposal imminent.”

“Damn,” he mutters as the bartender reappears with two Coors, “And here I thought I had half a chance.”

You hum to yourself, studying him. Looking from his jaw across the span of his shoulders, his wide-knuckled hands and then back to his lips. Curious and wary, judging the strange animal stood before you.

And he knows he’s weathered from the weeks on the road, and all the years before that. Dirt under his nails and the light sheen of sun on his forehead. The flecks of gray through his thick, brown beard.

You take a deep breath, eyes twinkling, and tell him, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Joel glances at Tommy. “I’m here with my brother.”

You look across to the dirty blond, sat tilting a glass candle in his hand. “He single?”

Joel nods. “Is she?”

You nod.

“Alright. You wanna come sit with us?”

Your smirk answers his question. You take the beers, rings clinking off the glass. “Rum,” you call over your shoulder, wandering off, “I drink rum.”

Joel’s gaze lowers to the sway of your hips. “Rum it is,” he says, turning back to the bar.

“So…a cross-country bike trip, and you wound up in San Angelo?”

You’re on your fourth drink, the first one Joel hasn’t paid for – and he only allowed it because it’s a Diet Coke (and maybe you got to the bar first, held his wrists with one hand so he couldn’t stop you from slapping your own money down).

“Yep,” Joel replies, pinching the lime from his drink and dropping it onto a napkin. “Just passin’ through. Shower, sleep, then head on home.”

“Where’s that, then? Home?”

“Austin.”

“Austin,” you pout, “Nice.”

Joel smirks, licking citrus from his fingertips. “Is it?”

“I’ve never been to Austin,” Brooke chirps, fiddling with the umbrella in her piña colada. She twirls the paper canopy and glances up to Tommy.

He snaps out of his slack-jawed gaze when he realizes what she’s implying. “Oh – yeah, well…” his head wobbles as he stutters, “…you two ever come down that way, we’d be happy to, uh…show ya ‘round, huh, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply, staring back at his brother with the same amused expression you are.

You’ve been an inch apart all evening – doused in the dive bar darkness, the shrouded conversations and muffled TV static. The tip of your nose and curve of your shoulders lit only by the luminous signs dotting the walls.

Tommy and Brooke are already deep in conversation again about the best car Tommy ever owned. Joel watches as your eyes flit between the pair, entertained by the way they trip over each other’s sentences. Your cheeks lift when Brooke lays a hand over Tommy’s, and he squeezes her fingers back.

Where did you come from? Joel’s thinking. He takes a swig of his whiskey, feeling your eyes on him. As he lowers his glass, you lift yours. When he turns in his seat towards you, you’re already facing him, back against the wainscotting. He smiles, and so do you.

Every movement feels choreographed, some merry dance only you two know. You’re in your own little world.

Where did you come from, again, and where have you been my entire fucking life?

“So, what about you?” Joel asks instead, swallowing – all warm-bellied and brave. “You grow up here?”

You shake your head, taking another sip. “Nope. Just liked it enough to hang up my coat for a few months. I grew up in Phoenix.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I’ve been around. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

He thinks of home: of Austin and its silver-snake river, burnt-orange jerseys and the pleated bunting lining Sixth Street. He thinks of late nights on lawn chairs, nursing a beer and shooting the shit with his brother. Keeping their voices lower than the buzz of the cicadas, looking more at the dusky sky than at each other.

“You don’t ever get tired of it?” Joel asks. “Of moving around so much?”

You scoff, breath clouding the inside of your glass. “Three weeks on a motorcycle starting to get to you, huh?”

He breathes a laugh, loose again. The cicadas fade from his ears.

Your head tilts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the universe keeps on surprising me.”

Joel doesn’t do this. At least, he hasn’t done this since he was a teenager – crate of beer under his arm and a chest full of courage. He’s long forgotten the feeling of heat blooming in his cheeks, the twitch of his heart anytime you look at him.

But fuck, if there isn’t something about you. Something in the way you move, the way you look at him. Something in the way you play with your straw, knocking ice cubes around and chewing on the plastic once you’ve drained the glass.

Something – though it’s a little too early and Joel’s a little too tipsy to tell just what. He tries to remember that he’s pragmatic. A grown-up. He chases away the monsters in his daughter’s –

“Oh, shit,” Joel says suddenly, scrambling to pull his cell from his pocket. It’s nine thirty. He was supposed to – “I forgot…”

A miserable tone from his Motorola cuts him short. The screen flashes an empty battery before fading to black. He jams a thumb into the keypad a couple more times, cursing at the winking symbol.

“Someone you gotta call?” you ask.

He meets your eye and winces. “Yeah, I’m…I said I’d call an hour ago.”

“You wanna use mine?” You twist around, fishing in your purse for your own. “We can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s alright, I’m sure she won’t mind, she –”

You shake your head. “Shut up. Come on, let’s go. I could use some fresh air, anyways. Be back in a minute,” you tell Brooke – who nods and turns straight back to Tommy.

Joel extends his hand to help you out of the booth, then follows you to the door. The cool air tugs every nerve in his body to attention, pin-sharp when he steps out of that lazy heat. Under the emerald glow of the Murphy’s sign, he settles his glass on a window ledge. “Next round’s on me, alright?”

You roll your eyes, pushing the phone against his chest. “Just call, Joel.”

One last apologetic glance, and then he’s dialing. He makes to wander along the curb, the tone already pulsing in his ear, when he notices –

“You ain’t brought a jacket?”

You’re sitting on the ledge, clutching your elbows. Swatting midges from the light you’re bathed in, charms on your bracelets jingling. “Hm?”

He tuts. “A jacket. Here.” He shrugs his own off, sitting it around your frame. It’s warm from the bar and from Joel’s body heat, and you sink into it – letting the dark leather drown you as you rummage through your purse again.

“Nice,” Joel’s eyes narrow, “Fresh air.”

You hum into your hands, flicking your lighter. The cigarette trembles when you murmur, “We all got our skeletons, I guess.”

He turns on his heel when a familiar voice picks up.

“Hey, hey, M–Yeah, sorry it’s late…Yeah, we got held up. My phone died, so I’m using…Is she still–? Can I–? Oh, Sarah. Hi, baby.”

His little girl begins chattering down the line immediately, telling Joel everything she’s been up to since they last spoke this morning.

“…and then, Emily thought I was one of the Armadillos – I don’t even know how, ‘cause they play in red, remember Dad? – but she did, and she slide tackled me so bad that Coach Thomson had to sub in Akari for me so I could ice my ankle. Grandma was kinda mad about it, but she took me to Burger King after to cheer me up, and…”

Joel wanders back and forth, smiling to himself and scuffing the heel of his boot along the concrete – barely able to squeeze more than two words between her chirping. It’s all, Yeah, baby? and Wow, sweetheart; all uhuhs and mhms until she finally quietens, excitement plateauing again.

“Alright, well. You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah,” Sarah groans. She knows it all too well.

Bedtime.

“…But you didn’t call when you said you would, Daddy, and it’s Saturday, it’s –”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. Just…somethin’ came up. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s Uncle Tommy? Can I talk to him?”

Joel turns to face the bar. “He, uh…I’m not with him right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you asked after him, though.”

Sarah concedes, and then begins asking questions Joel knows she’s only asking to stay on the line a little longer – to stay awake a little later. But still, he answers each one – humoring her and, at the same time, letting himself listen to her voice just a little more before he has to let her go.

He thinks of scooping her up in the morning; thinks of being slumped on the couch after dinner with her head on his stomach – fast asleep with whatever movie she chose droning on in the background.

Despite the thousands of miles and close to two weeks between them – she makes him feel closer to home. She always does.

When Sarah asks where he is, he glances your way. Clocks your flat expression, the half-burnt cigarette hanging from your fingers.

You flick ash to the ground. Eyes unreadable beneath low brows, a tiny crease between them that Joel’s only just seeing for the first time.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, “…just a little – a little north of you, baby. Home first thing, I promise.”

He tells her he loves her and she says it back, and he tells her to sleep well and she says that back, too. And then he’s hanging up – Alright, see you soon, bye, Sarah, bye-bye, byebyebye – and pressing his thumb into the red button.

He wanders back over to you – ears flat like a guilty dog, though he isn’t quite sure why. He mumbles a quiet thanks as he passes the phone back, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You lean back, ankles crossed, studying him. Swirling what’s left of the cigarette in your fingers – the smoke lifting like a winding snake to the dark sky. “So,” you pout, “What are you doing flirting with me, if you got a wife and kid back home?”

His jaw ticks, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “I don’t have a wife,” he says.

You stare blankly, filter back against your lips. “Okay, then – a girlfriend. Does she know you’re out tonight with us?”

He shakes his head. “No wife, no girlfriend. I don’t have an anything.”

“But you have a kid.”

Joel nods once, tongue in his cheek. “Uhuh.”

And then the penny seems to drop. A small oh; your jaw slack and eyes wide. The cigarette smolders between your fingers. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, hey,” Joel steps closer, “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

He straightens the jacket on your shoulders. When you finally look at each other again, you snort.

“Sorry,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is she okay? Your daughter – is she…?”

“Sarah,” Joel says. “She’s…she’s fine. Thanks.”

You look down, stubbing your cigarette against the brick. Voice quiet, you ask, “Her mom’s not around anymore?”

Relief settles in his chest: you’re softening to him again.

Joel slots onto the ledge at your side. Shoulder to shoulder. He reaches behind and lifts his drink. “Not since she was a year old.”

Your mouth pulls in a wince. “Jesus. That’s rough.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to – you’re not asking him to explain – and he doesn’t want to, either.

You’re not stupid – you’ve seen enough of the world to hear what he’s really saying. The darkest, dustiest corners of it – all the places no one ever wants to look.

You don’t seem disturbed, barely even moved by the reality that…well, shit happens. People leave, families break; a two-car driveway is suddenly taken up by just a pick-up truck and a little pink bike with tassels.

He figures you get it. You don’t need to know how can that be? – you just…know that it can.

“So, uh…” you look up at him again, “…my apartment is, like, five minutes away if you wanna…you know. You can charge your phone, can shower – if it’s bugging you that much.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really?”

You simper, eyes thin. “Really.”

“Charge my phone ‘n shower?” He stands, palm flat against the wall above your head, and leans in. His face is inches from yours.

You look up, mirroring his expression. “Yes,” your voice curls in a half-truth, “What’s the big deal?”

“What a goddamn line,” Joel says, smirking. “How long you been sittin’ on that one for?”

His blood thrums faster, harder, louder in his veins when you stand up, hands on your hips.

“It’s not a line, I’m serious –”

“I didn’t take you as the type, baby, I really didn’t – but if that’s how you wanna play this, then –”

He feels you before he sees you moving, like he’s stood at that bar all over again. Your hands on his jaw, your chest pressed to his. Your lips – soft as satin, with a tinge of sweet rum and smoke – against his.

Joel barely misses a beat. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to the back of your head, kissing you back. It’s dizzying, the taste and feel of you so close; the wet of your tongue on his. The little scratches of your nails in his beard, the moans caught in your throat.

Dizzying – and fucking perfect.

You break apart and lean in to each other, catching your breath. Joel’s hands slip beneath the heavy leather of his jacket onto your waist.

“Unless…” you whisper, pulling away from him, “…you don’t want to. In which case, I’ll just…” You twirl back towards the door, batting your eyelashes.

Joel smiles. He catches your wrist and reels you back into his body. “I want to,” he breathes, kissing you again. “I want to.”

“Let’s go.”

You make it to your apartment door, fumbling with your keys – and Joel’s hands are glued to your waist.

You miss the lock over and over as he kisses your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anything to satiate the hunger quickly taking over, the tightening in his jeans.

He pulls you against his hips – rough denim grinding into the curve of your ass. He can smell your flowery perfume, a strange melding of peony and menthol sharp in his nostrils.

It’s the hungriest he’s ever felt, he thinks – a starved animal pinning his prey to her flecked apartment door. He pauses, bottom lip damp against your neck; breathing a liquor-laced laugh over your skin.

You jam the key into the lock. The door finally shunts open and you spill inside, dragging Joel with you.

Your place is dark. Angled strips of streetlight thrown high up the bare walls and across the ceiling, splintered by tilted shades. The spill of a blanket draped over an empty couch; a pair of sneakers left on the rug. Joel’s knees brush by a houseplant guarding the door – heavy leaves which pfft when they sway out of his way.

It’s half-decorated. Temporary. Caught somewhere between home and away. Little fragments pieced together into something the shape of home: a mosaic vase that scatters light across the surface of the coffee table; a beaded curtain pinned around the closet doorway.

Like you’re a little magpie, collecting trinkets of silver and gold until your nest feels like yours. Bags dropped long enough to keep a Monstera plant alive, not to put nails in the wall for the frames propped against the skirting board.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off, dropping it over the back of the couch. When you spin back around to him, he lifts your chin with two fingers and presses his lips to yours. You lead him down the hallway, tumbling into your room.

He follows you over to your bed, collapsing onto a tousled mess of sheets with his hips between yours. The hem of your dress rides up your thighs, bunching around your hips and revealing a flash of pink lace underneath.

The world around him seems to sober up for a second, sharpens into focus. It begins to seep in: the realization that he has you – some girl he met no more than two hours ago in a bar – pinned to your mattress. A slick gathering in your underwear and a weight building in his.

Right now, he should be sinking into squealing bedsprings in a Super 8. Bathing in the flicker of a television set twenty years too old. He should be showered and rested – ready to head home at sunrise, if not sooner.

But then something led him to you, and – well.

There’s no fucking helping him now, is there?

Joel’s fingers hook around your panties. He pulls down, leaving a trail of kisses along your bare leg, until that same pink lace is dripping from your ankle.

His eyes flash up to yours, love-drunk and sparkling. He pushes your knees apart, watching your velvet folds open for him, and – oh, he thinks, staring at the glistening arousal smeared around your cunt. Such a slick little mess for him already.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he licks his lips, “She’s so pretty.”

You hum, hands lowering. Your fingers separate, spreading your pussy for him. Your middle finger swirls around your clit, dips along your seam. And the n, silky and shining, you lift your hand again and slip your fingers into your mouth.

“Tastes even better than she looks,” you murmur, dappling your fingertip along your bottom lip.

Joel growls. He pushes down on your thighs, ignoring your little yelp, and drags the tip of his tongue through your slit.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, back arching. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting and tightening. “Shitshitshit.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, tongue pushing inside.

Fuck, you’re just so perfect: so soft and warm and fucking dripping for him. He laps at your sweet center, wet already spreading all over his mouth and beard.

A dampness blooms in his boxers. He’s throbbing, fucking aching the longer he goes untouched. He grinds against the mattress, denim rough against his solid erection.

He lifts his chin, panting – satisfied by the way you squirm under the weight of him. “You like that, huh?” he asks, a sodden kiss to your mound. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He spits a thick bead of saliva, watching it dribble down your folds to your ass. His tongue swipes it back up, circling your clit, all slippery and swollen.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, tugging on his hair. Your legs spasm, hips lifting.

He loves the sound of his name when you say it. Broken in two, a lilt to it as it rolls from your tongue and down his spine. Like it’s yours as much as it is his, now.

He sucks hard on your clit, his tongue flicking. And he can tell you’re close; can feel your hips starting to lose rhythm, see your back desperately arching higher and higher.

Joel groans, pushing up to hover over you. He cups between your legs, dabbing two thick fingers at your entrance, and pushes in.

Your pussy draws him in knuckle-deep. Your chest lifts, the loose neckline of your dress exposing more and more. You grab your breast, pinching your nipple – a roll of pebbled flesh between your fingertips.

He lowers his lips to your ear – watching as you toy with yourself. “Come on, baby,” he grits his teeth, “Give me one. Let me feel this pretty cunt.”

Your head rolls back into the pillow; a high sob as your orgasm crests. Clamping tight around him; a warm flood down his fingers.

Joel kisses you as you come. You look so pretty, he thinks, with ecstasy behind your eyes and his fingers between your legs.

Christ, he wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to feel your cunt do all this around his cock instead.

The blood rushes between his hips.

His fingers slip in and out, bringing you back around. Joel’s lips are on your neck, murmuring, “Good girl, that’s my girl,” as you resurface.

Your eyes open again – glossy, glazed with the aftershock of your high. “Fuck,” you breathe, playing with the hem of his shirt.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Whips the tee over his head in one motion; another kiss tucked under your chin as you peel your dress from your body. He tosses it to the floor.

Still dazed, your body still trembling, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” All dreamy and distant, your hands trailing along his belt.

Joel pauses. Tilts his head, frowning. “I’m on a road trip with my brother, baby – the hell would I bring condoms for?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. It’s the cutest thing Joel thinks he’s ever seen. You thread the belt through the loops of his jeans. “In case you meet a really cool girl at a bar and wanna take her home, maybe?”

He lifts his eyebrows, impressed. He slips his salty tongue over yours again.

You moan at the taste. “It’s just I’m…I’m all out.”

His belt drops to the floor; buckle clinking against hardwood.

“Well, shit,” Joel whispers.

It’s not exactly a scenario he predicted, setting off from Austin. Meeting you wasn’t on the bucket list for the trip. It’s another three, four, probably five things to add to the list of shit he doesn’t do, shouldn’t do, wouldn’t fucking do if it hadn’t been for you.

No, Joel thinks, groaning as you palm the solid shape of him – he didn’t bring a goddamn condom. Jesus, the most he has in his pockets right now is fifteen bucks and a stick of gum.

You unzip his pants, shrugging the denim loose. “We can just do it…without,” you offer.

Joel stares down at you. “You sure?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Just pull out, right?”

“Just pull out…” he echoes. Your hands are cold on his heated skin, but he’s not about to fucking stop you.

You tug his underwear down with his jeans, following the darkening hair from his navel down. Another quiet pull out passes your lips – your voice dissolving when you spot the thick base of his dick.

Joel’s shaft springs free, heavy against the inside of his thigh.

“Holy shit.” You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes flooding black.

His tongue runs along the bottom of his teeth. He thrusts forward into your hand, a glassy drop of precome dribbling from his slit.

Your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, fingers wrapping around his width. You roll his balls in your other palm, massaging and squeezing just the right amount.

“Easy, easy,” Joel whispers. Too much, too soon. He can’t come yet, not until he feels your fluttering cunt around his cock.

Instead, you reach up – snaking an arm around his neck. You pull him back down, his naked body flush against yours, and hike a knee over his hip.

He grinds into you, his cock nudging between your legs. They fall apart for him – pliant and keen, like petals unfolding. He covers himself in your slick, his tip catching below your clit.

“Pl-ease,” you whine, scratching at his shoulders.

Joel nips at your damp neck. “Please, what?” he taunts.

Your breath is hot against his cheek – a stifling request which curls up in the shell of his ear. “F-fuck me.”

And his hips roll into yours.

“Jesus f…” your face buries into his chest, “…you’re…you’re so fucking big, Joel, I can’t –”

He nudges between your walls, groaning into your skin. You’re even tighter around his cock, even cozier. “I know,” he pants, “I know. Take it, baby, know you can take it.”

You stretch around him, opening up the deeper he pushes. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, the thick hair at his base finally brushing against your clit. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Look at me,” he taps your jaw, “Hey. Look at me. Breathe.”

You exhale, hot and shaky across his lips.

“Good, that’s good.” Joel nods. He holds you by the waist, lets you adjust to his size.

He pulls back, your cunt clamping around him. Halfway out, and then in again. Feeling you open up, inch by inch, until he builds a steady rhythm.

“Jesus, baby, she’s so…” he moans, “…she’s so goddamn tight.”

You drape an arm over his shoulders, a hissing pain where your nails dig into his skin. Yelping each time he bottoms out, your leaking cunt wrapped snug around him. “So – goddamn – big,” you whine, a ruined smile on your lips.

He slams his body into yours again, watching the way your tits bounce. Nipples hard, skin tacky and shining with sweat. Your pussy pinches, and he starts to unravel.

Fuck the road trip, Joel thinks, fuck all of it. This is where he should be: in the middle of your bed, burrowed deep between your legs. This is the only place he wants to fucking be, right now.

So he fucks you harder; the headboard hammering against the wall. A fistful of the pillow, his knuckles whitening. He guides his cock when he slips out – a filthy sound as your clutch sucks him back in.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard he worries he might bruise you. His thrusts become sloppy – quick and desperate.

“So close,” you gasp. You’re squeezing him so tight that he sees stars. “I’m gonna – I’m…”

Perfect, Joel thinks, watching you bloom. You’re so fucking perfect.

He coaxes you through it. Slows enough to feel you come around his cock, your warmth as it gushes all over him. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls out just in time to coat your stomach; a throaty groan as he comes. He pumps his shaft, covering from your sternum to the plush of your tummy. It dribbles down your waist, spurts between your breasts.

He collapses over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His dick, soaked and softening, smears the ejaculate across your skin.

You giggle, leaving sticky kisses along his beard.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and his tongue dabs at the inside of your lips. You taste like sex and sweat – sweet and salt.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed. He feels you follow, your lips featherlight on the curve of his shoulder.

You make to stand – going to clean yourself up, he reckons, your tummy dripping with his semen – and he locks a hand around your bare thigh.

“Stay,” he says, voice low and rough – sex still smoldering. “Let me get you a towel.”

You smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your fingers link around the other side of his waist. “I’ll get it. Just relax.”

And for a minute or two, you stay like that. Hooked onto one another, tired eyes closing over, breathing in rhythm. Your cheek on his shoulder, your knee brushing against his tummy.

It’s simple; quiet and still. Joel feels like half a person – the other half tracing her chipped nails along his bare thigh. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth holding back a grin that she thinks might give her away.

Eventually, you move. Shimmy yourself down the mattress, swipe a crinkled tee from the ottoman – and slink off to the bathroom.

Joel lies back against the headboard, body sticky hot. He watches the shadow of your figure stretch across the open door. His eyes drift upwards to the looping ceiling fan – only half as dizzying as the sound of your humming in the next room.

And just when he starts to think he might be fucking missing you, you reappear in the doorway. Leant against the frame, some worn band tee hanging from your shoulders. Arms crossed; smiling back at him.

A rush of words floods to the tip of his tongue. You look beautiful. Your makeup’s smudged, chains of your necklace twisted; your shirt is frayed and splotched with faded stains – and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He holds his arms out and you prance over.

You crawl over his figure, kissing your way up to his lips, and then turn in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, your head nuzzling into the dark threads of hair between his pecs. You clasp one of his hands in two of yours.

“Offer’s still there for a shower, if you want it,” you whisper, kissing the pads of his fingers.

Joel tilts his head, mumbling against your temple, “Will you be in there with me?”

You answer something shaped like a tease, just as sharp with wit – but he’s too busy watching your nails trace his open palm. Too distracted by the sweet scent of your skin: a fresh burst of fruit, singed with the edge of tobacco.

“What do you do for work?” you ask.

He makes some sort of sleepy sound – a grunt, a hm? into your skull. “Oh, uh – I’m a contractor,” he says.

Your chin lifts. “That why your palms are all…?” Your thumb strokes light as lace against his worn skin.

“Probably,” Joel admits. He draws shapes on your thigh with his free hand.

“Do you sand the wood with your bare hands, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs. “Alright, alright. You liked my hands plenty, twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks lift, a low hum caught in your throat. You angle your head to let his lips trail along your shoulder, pressing into the hinge of your jaw. A dark nail following the landscape of Joel’s skin – each score and divot, the callused pads at the bottom of each finger.

“You have sorta…earth hands, I think.”

It sits in the air for a few seconds before Joel turns to you. “What?”

“Earth hands. Or, well – I guess they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way.” You open up his hand, fingers stretched. “I don’t really know. I’m still learning.”

He looks down at you. Feels the now-steady pulse of your heart on his sternum. “Learnin’…hands?”

You snort. “Palm reading, Joel.”

His brows draw tight. He licks the inside of his whiskey-stained cheek. “You’re into all that hippie sh…stuff?”

You knock your knuckles against his chest, still staring at his hands. The hills and their valleys, the ravine-like lines; the worn skin and hatch marks.

“Let’s see…Your heart line,” you whisper – more to yourself than Joel, but he’s listening all the same. “It’s pretty deep, which means the relationships you’ve had have been…important. But it’s kinda…it tails off right here, see? It’s broken. So…I guess they didn’t end too good.”

Joel raises an eyebrow – playful, encouraging your timid smile. Keep figuring me out, he thinks, stoking the curious flame behind your eyes. “Alright,” he says, “Now tell me something you didn’t already know about me.”

You gawk, holding his wrist up. “You don’t see that? The way it breaks up? I’m not bullshitting you, Joel, it’s –”

“Naw, I see it,” he nods, squinting a little at his palm, “Just – tell me more. What’s all these other lines mean?”

“Well,” you adjust between his hips, “you got your life line right here. Short, which means –”

“Don’t tell me that part.”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “It just means you’re independent. You never needed much from anyone. And it runs past this mount – these are called mounts – right here. Venus: all to do with love and sexuality.”

Joel holds your open palm next to his, comparing them. He takes less than a second’s look, lines his lips to your ear and says, “Seem like a pretty good match to me.”

You wriggle when he tickles your ribcage, trying to twist out of his grasp. You’re laughing again – the same laugh he’s been hearing all damn night. The same giggle that’s had his stomach somersaulting since he first heard it.

The room seems to light with it, this glow he feels from you – as if you’re the sun. Spent and still half-drunk; lazing with a stranger in the middle of her bed. Tracing the lines and scars on his palm, telling him how logical and grounded he’s supposed to be.

As if the world orbits around you – everything you touch turning to molten gold. And for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Joel looks at you and wonders: Where the hell did you come from?

You hold your hand against his, folding your fingers perfectly together. The evidence of your night flaking from Joel’s knuckles; sweat still simmering on the nape of his neck.

He hasn’t done this for years. Hasn’t felt this gentle aftermath. It’s usually a rush, a hastened zip and clink of his pants. An awkward dance, plucking clothes from the bedroom floor and pacing back to his truck.

It’s never like this. Talking and laughing, holding and kissing. Questions about his parents and yours; his biggest dream as a kid, or the time you broke your arm falling out of a tree.

He tells you stories about growing up with Tommy; tells you Sarah’s favorite flavor of cake. He tells you about the time they tried to make it for a school bake sale, forgot to turn the oven off, and almost burned the damn kitchen down.

You snicker and tell him that never would’ve happened if you were there.

Yeah, well, Joel smiles, I wish you were.

He notices you’re drifting off, despite your slurred protests and your weak grip on his wrist. He pulls you under the covers, curving his body around yours, praying that the quickening drum of his heartbeat won’t wake you.

His nose nuzzles into the curve of your skull, his hands link in front of your tummy. And he wonders whether his body was made with yours in mind.

He glances out at the sky – light starting to bleed from the horizon – and wills the turn of the sun to slow. Only a little; just let him stay here a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Dawn forces her way in eventually – more unwelcome than ever before.

There’s a throb between his temples which swells to life when the light floods past his pupils. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, face turning back into the pillow. He gives you a gentle squeeze and then pushes up from the mattress.

You roll to the middle of the bed, still sound asleep. The sun spills golden all over the valleys and crests of your body. The bedsheets carve pathways up to your hips, dipping at your waist.

Last night, there was something so mystical about you – so otherworldly. Joel felt himself drawn towards you like a compass needle shooting north, the second he felt your weight crash against his spine.

A figure behind a cloud of smoke, like the mountaintops disappearing into a thick mist. And now, blood drained of alcohol, you’re just you.

Your shirt is twisted around your shoulders. Your lips puffy, mumbling to yourself in your doze. Makeup smudged like chalk under your eyes, and still – just as beautiful. Just as radiant as you were ten hours ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He blinks down at his bare feet, the morning sharpening into focus. As he lifts his phone from the nightstand, the cable drops – hitting the wooden floor with a snap.

He pauses, shoulders hunched. Hears you stir over his shoulder, and turns around.

The earth of your body shifts beneath cotton hills, clouds of sleep clearing from behind your eyes. “Hey,” you whisper, voice pretty and broken.

A little bird in the palm of his hand – that magpie curled up in her nest of gems and trinkets.

“Hey.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You wrap your arms around his wrist, tugging. “Are…are you…leaving?”

Joel feels a pang in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his lungs and steadies his heart. “I…” he sniffs, “…I gotta go home, baby.”

You give a slow and heavy nod. “S-Sarah…”

He strokes your head with his thumb. “Yeah. Shh, go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

He glances at his phone – it’s just after six. He knows Tommy will be waiting for him, parked outside the Super 8 and wondering where the hell Joel is. He knows Sarah will be, too – sat by the living room window, listening for the rumble of their bikes.

And still, he thinks – How do I fucking leave you? Leave this?

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. He has a kid waiting for him back home; soccer practice, packed lunches, homework and bedtime stories. He has work to do, bills to pay, a roof to keep over their heads. It’s all waiting in Austin, two hundred miles away.

As though you can see the question flipping in his mind, you pull him closer. A weak finger in the palm of his hand, drawing circles. Your bleary gaze meets his, and you whisper, “In the next life.”

Joel smiles. Twelve hours ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of it. Now, he’s not so sure. He kisses your knuckles, muttering, “Promise.”

Another wave of sleep washes over you, and you’re gone again.

Joel pushes himself from the bed, reaching for his clothes. His back twinges as he stretches, pulling his T-shirt over his shoulders. He steps into his jeans; pinches his belt between two fingers and lifts it from the floor.

He leans over and tilts your shades the opposite way, dulling your bedroom. He unplugs the charger, neatly winds the cord, and sits it on your nightstand. He fixes his side of the sheets: folds them over the mattress, tucks them in at your back.

With a deep breath, he makes for the door.

His jaw turns, eyes still low. Your dress is in a heap at the foot of the bed; a tube of lip gloss lying next to it. He looks up, following the landscape of sheets – the slope from your ankle to your hip. Your hunched shoulders, your cheek smushed into the pillow.

If he looks too long, he’ll never leave.

The image burns golden into his eyes. He hopes for half a heartbeat that you’ll wake again and pull him back into bed. Kiss him all over, whisper something sharp and sweet in his ear. Touch him and graze him and wrap yourself around him – anchoring him right here and now.

But you don’t.

And Joel slips out of the room.

Jackson stirs to life over his shoulder.

A white lump in the snow-covered valley, the settlement seems so far away now. Tommy sets off up ahead, leading the way to the outpost. The blizzard is picking up – it almost swallows the silhouette of him whole.

Joel had tried to warn him: the weather would be too bad to see five feet in front of them, never mind any infected. But Tommy argued with the same determination that dragged the pair of them into that dive bar thirty years ago, and Joel didn’t have half the energy nor the will to argue back.

He’s thinking about you. He always is.

Your searing gaze over the rim of your glass; the weight of you against his chest. The tickling of your nail on his palm, severing each line and changing him forever. You and your palm lines.

You were just learning to read them. Joel didn’t know a thing about any of it, and he told you so. You took his hand in yours and said, Here. Let me see.

He runs a thumb down his fate line, swaying in time with his horse. And he shakes his head with a little smile – he still remembers which one is fate and which is heart.

He still remembers all of it. He has earth hands. All salt and soil and solid as stone. His earth hands have gotten him this far, right? Twenty-five years and he’s still here. Gray and grown; stiff joints and sewn-up scars.

His head line has channeled more strangers’ blood than Joel can count. Mounts that’ve stopped breath in the throat of any man who crossed him. He doesn’t think you’d recognize his hands anymore, if your fingertips traced over them again. Broken and bruised and bloody.

And he doesn’t think he’d want you to – doesn’t want you to meet the shadow of the man you knew back then. He’d prefer you remember that same brown-eyed, soft-touched stranger with enough charm and naivety to survive anything. No need for bone-breaking fists or bloodstained hands.

Where are you, he wonders?

The answer knots deep in his stomach: the same old rope twisting into the same old shape. A fist of anger, of guilt. Some terrible cocktail of both, spilling poison through his veins.

He’s terrified to wonder what might’ve happened if he had ever made it back there. What he might’ve found in your apartment – what he might not.

Where would you have gone, that day? Would you have fled, or would you have stayed?

You were smart, he knows that much. He saw the cogs of your mind turning right in front of him, standing opposite each other in that bar. Barely thirty seconds in and he could’ve sworn you had him all figured out.

But – oh, Jesus, you were kind. Open and willing to help a stranger with a dead phone and a tired smile. Would that kindness still glow as bright against the flicker of a world on fire?

A lone hawk swoops down before him, shooting straight between the pines. Joel slips his glove back over his freezing hand.

He thinks about you every day. Every fucking day, and it never eases. Never loosens. It keeps him up some nights – the truth he’s too afraid to look square in the face.

You live now in the back of his mind like a little ghost. His little ghost – still floating around that dusty city; the warm light of life and innocence still bright in your eyes.

Tommy glances over his shoulder. He gestures ahead as if to say, Would you take a look at this goddamn storm?

And Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m lookin’, brother.

All he wants is to go home. Jackson, Austin, the bedroom of your apartment in San Angelo. Just let me go back.

He blinks, and the snow melts to cracked asphalt under a lilac sunset. Tommy’s holding handlebars instead of reins. The horses’ hot puffs of breath darken to clouds of smoke, choking from the exhaust pipes of the Harleys.

You’re somewhere on the other side of town, waiting for him in the faint glow of a jukebox. Sipping what’s left of your rum and Coke, fishing a twenty from your purse for the next round.

Just let me go back home.

He tugs on his horse’s reins and pulls off after his brother.

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

love languages ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

pjo boys x reader (ft. percy jackson, jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang, luke castellan, nico di angelo, will solace, ethan nakamura) backtrack: "hype boy", newjeans inspiration: I love thinking about love languages (little disclaimer that these are all obviously just my opinion)

percy jackson

giving: acts of service

how many times has this guy risked his life to save the world? percy jackson is a true hero, always putting himself in harm’s way to protect those around him, such as when he chose the prophecy to protect nico. he always takes risks to protect his loved ones, and he constantly puts others’ needs above his own.

receiving: quality time

I guess I based this off of percy spending a bunch of time with rachel before last olympian. but demigods are in constant danger, and percy would cherish every moment he spends with his partner because, unfortunately, you never know when it could be the last. I also thought about acts of service, since he was really grateful when annabeth and grover wanted to go with him on that quest in lightning thief.

jason grace

giving: acts of service

jason’s a giver. he literally joined the fifth cohort to bring back their glory. he sacrificed himself for piper (rest in peace jason, you deserved better) and his whole life has been about serving camp jupiter and later, camp half-blood too.

receiving: physical touch

this might be kind of controversial. I just think jason’s been in such a strict, intense environment since he was a toddler that he’s definitely touch-starved. he probably melts at any physical contact with his partner. I also thought about words of affirmation because he’s always been held to such high expectations, he’d really need someone just telling him they love him.

leo valdez

giving: gift giving

lowkey I put gift giving because too many people were getting acts of service. but genuinely I think leo would love making little trinkets and machines and giving them to his partner. he’s not great at being vulnerable with words or touch, so he shows his love through little actions. similarly, acts of service is also definitely a love language of his; think of everything he did to help calypso after all, even though I hate that ship.

receiving: words of affirmation

this is probably the one I’m most certain about. let’s be honest, leo’s been through so much shit, he’s been called so much shit, that he just needs someone to appreciate and love him and tell him that. plus, he’s so used to rejection that one “I love you” will send him into a spiral for days on end.

frank zhang

giving: physical touch

not entirely sure about this one, I need to reread heroes of olympus. but I bet frank would give the best hugs. you’d feel so safe and warm wrapped up in frank’s arms, and I feel like he’d be the most likely to be physically affectionate with others out of pretty much all the riordanverse characters.

receiving: words of affirmation

the second one I’m most certain about. frank is quite sensitive and definitely needs praise. not needs as in he’s an attention seeker, but needs as in he blushes bright red and smiles super wide when someone praises him. it just makes him feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

luke castellan

giving: acts of service

luke is like the embodiment of the statement “a hero would sacrifice you for the world, but a villain would sacrifice the world for you”. he did everything that he did in order to build a better world; I genuinely believe he thought what he was doing was right for the greater good. and he brought back the titan lord and fought a war for a cause he believed in--what lengths would he go to to protect his partner?

receiving: words of affirmation

luke’s never received any sort of praise or recognition; it’s part of why he resented the gods so much in the first place. if he could have someone with him just to pick him up when he’s down, to encourage him and shower him with praise and love, he’d be so happy. although I like to think he’s a touch-starved baby who’s really clingy with his partner too.

nico di angelo

giving: quality time

nico’s not a talker, he’d much rather listen or sit in silence with his partner. spending a lot of time with his partner would let nico feel closer to them. there’s a special sort of connection and understanding that comes from shared experiences. acts of service was also another contender. nico would do everything for those he loves. take bianca, for example, and how hard nico tried to bring her back in battle of the labyrinth.

receiving: physical touch

another touch-starved one. he was taken out of time for seventy years, came back and lost his sister in like five days, went through two wars, had to deal with coming to terms with his sexuality; the poor guy has been through tartarus and back (literally). poor nico. someone give him a hug. I also thought about words of affirmation, since nico constantly struggles with being isolated and would probably really benefit from some reassurance and support.

will solace

giving: acts of service

I mean, he’s literally a healer. he does everything for others. enough said, really. he puts others’ wellbeing first, and in the process sometimes overlooks himself and his own needs. which leads to. . .

receiving: acts of service

will is so used to people taking care of him that he never asks for help when he needs it. the little things, like helping him out when he’s tired, is the way to his heart. no one’s ever really looked out for him since he arrived at camp half-blood, and he had to take over the apollo cabin when he was barely a teenager. it’d be nice for him to have someone take care of him for a change.

ethan nakamura

giving: acts of service

I don’t know why so many characters have acts of service as a giving love language. maybe it’s because they’re heroes and fight and do stuff for their respective causes, so naturally they give off a giving or take-action vibe? but anyway, ethan fought and gave his life in order to gain his mother--and himself, honestly--more recognition. he takes action for those he cares about and always wants to defend his beliefs and help his friends, even though his ways may be a little questionable.

receiving: words of affirmation

really similar to luke. ethan’s always been undervalued and overlooked. he just needs validation and support. encouragement and praise would help him finally feel acknowledged, accepted, and valued.

I wanted to post this on valentine's day but I got too excited

divider by @cafekitsune

taglist: @loveinalocket, @raysmayhem-72

[etoileee]

here are pictures that remind me of the hero’s of olympus as someone who’s shifted to percy jackson!

—PERCY JACKSON

—JASON GRACE

—LEO VALDEZ

—FRANK ZHANG

—NICO DI ANGELO

—ANNABETH CHASE

—PIPER MCLEAN

—HAZEL LEVESQUE

— REYNA AVLIA RAMÍREZ ARLLANO

[bagerfluff]

Nico: Hold the fuck up!

Y/n: Excuse me?

Nico: I said "Hold the fuck up"

Nico: I'm the fuck up

Nico: Hold me

Y/n: *With Nico in their arms and petting Nico's head* You've had a rough time lately, huh

Nico: *Face buried in Y/n's shoulder* Mhmm

[vampbloodbunny2]

Annabeth: So what did the paper in your fortune cookie say?

Percy, eating the entire cookie: the what in my what

[f0rg0ttendaughter0fhades]

Got drunk and wanted to text him, Then remembered he doesn’t have a fucking phone because we’re halfbloods.

[storywriter007]

hi hi hi!! i loved your preferences with the HoO boys! i was wondering if you could do another one, with literally any plot (ex- cuddling hcs, first kiss, or anything you feel like writing) with the same boys (+maybe nico if you write for him?) thank u!!

First Kiss - HoO Boys x Fem!Reader

author's note: hey i'm so glad you liked my work!! y'all have no idea how much it means to me omg :) i didn't include nico bc in the comments a valid point was brought up

warnings: kissing, cursing, whiskey is mentioned as a scent (tbh i've never smelled it, it's just vibes)

genre: fluff

word count: 3.2k (all bullet points)

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

percy jackson

you and him would've started off as best friends

and as both of you get older, you start liking each-other

percy would 100% be aware of his crush on you

he knows he has it, but he just avoids acting on it

he kinda just does his best to ignore his feelings

bc even though he's charismatic and charming

he's shy and anxious

he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable

and make you never want to talk to him again

he doesn't want to ruin everything you guys have and lose your trust in him

so he undoubtedly tries to pursue someone else

he'll talk about this other girl to you

not to make you jealous

but instead as a weak attempt to make himself feel like he doesn't like you

not a good idea

he makes you unintentionally jealous

you distance yourself from him bc you like him but can't stand hearing abt another girl all the time

but, you don't want to ruin things for him (bc you are convinced he is crazily crushing on her)

so you decide that you've just gotta let him go

percy wonders why his best friend is being so distant

you guys go weeks barely communicating

percy is still trying to convince himself he doesn't like you

but distance makes the heart grow fonder

he realizes and accepts the fact that he is madly in love w/ you (who wouldn't be?)

and that he can't stand this weird distance between you guys anymore

he decides he needs to talk to you

so one day you're just sitting on the deck by the lake with your feet in the water

you're just contemplating your love affair with him

and you see him coming your way

you're trying to avoid him so you get up and start to leave

he literally sprints to you and grabs your arm

you turn to look at him and he asks you why you've been avoiding him

you snatch your arm out of his grip and tell him it's nothing and that you're busy

he doesn't let you leave and keeps asking

so you slide a passive aggressive comment, something like "i bet your girlfriend's thinking about you"

and he realizes that you're jealous

and that he didn't convince himself that he liked this other girl

but he convinced you

he tells you everything

he tells you how much he likes you and that he never even liked this other girl

he was just trying to convince himself he did bc he didn't want to ruin things between the two of you

you confess to liking him too

both of you kind of laugh off your stupid choices

after you're done laughing, you kinda just look into each-other's eyes

both of you are leaning in

until you hear someone coming, and percy just grabs you and jumps underwater

and you guys have your first kiss underwater

your arms are around his neck and his are on your waist

you're like pressed up against one-another

the kiss is kinda steamy bc let's be honest: you've wanted to kiss each-other for five years

but it's a sweet kiss

percy smells like vanilla

you can hear the person saying "i swear they were here a minute ago" and then walking off

you both come up to the surface undeniably blushing/hot and laughing

jason grace

listen, i love jason

that man is STIFF

like you could literally leave him a note that says "i want to kiss you"

and he'd find you and go "that was a pretty good song you suggested. i like this one-direction band"

LMAO

ok but anyways, you guys are frenemies

you guys started off as rivals

you thought being the son of jupiter would make him arrogant

and you thought he was, but he was really just reserved and serious

he didn't know how to be anything different

he didn't like you because you argued with him about everything

you challenged him constantly

and you weren't as nice to him as you were everyone else

but

throughout the years, you get to know each-other better

but that doesn't mean you get along

you guys occasionally unite and get along (and typically when you do, it's the best hours of your life)

but otherwise, you two have it out for each other

constant disagreements and fights

you just loose all of your patience when it comes to each other

so you have a love-hate relationship with him

yeah you'd kill for him but you would never lend him an extra pen on tests

yeah he'd die for you but he would never let you look at his notes

you get along when you need to and this exact mentality is what lands both of you together, as praetors

but let's be real: there is so much unspoken tension between the two of you

like yeah you hate each other but you lowkey wanna make out

and you can't lie and say you didn't trust him or didn't like him

he'd proved you wrong on hundreds of occasions

he was capable, kind, caring, smart, loyal

and he couldn't lie and say he hated you either

you were fun, kind, ambitious, intelligent, and loyal too

over the years, both of you projected an "i hate you."

when in reality, you'd grown quite fond of one-another

you've shown your worst selves to each-other, you've lied for each-other, you've told secrets to each-other, and you've just been each-other's constant

y'both know you like each other: that's what makes the hate even stronger

like jason has other feelings for you but he doesn't know what to call them

attraction? a small crush? love? sexual tension? is it getting hot in here?

first kiss happens before you guys head into a huge battle

yes. the possibility of never seeing you again is what makes the man realize he's in love with you

like you guys are standing on a hill, watching the army of monsters slowly march towards camp jupiter

you guys turn to look at each other

you two are thinking the same thing: if i die, it's an honor to have served with you

"you ready?" you'd ask

"always." he'd say (typical roman)

you'd turn to look at him, but he's already looking at you

he grabs you by your arm and pulls you in for a kiss

it's a long kiss

it's passionate, and it's needy, but it's sweet at the same time

he basically lifts you off your feet and you're holding onto neck and his hair

you're pulling him closer into and he's holding you so tightly

you want to remember this

jason smells like fresh clean sheets mixed w/ whiskey

when you guys finally pull away bc you know you have to lead an army, you rest your foreheads against one-anothers

"good luck y/n"

"i'm gonna see you when this is over jason."

"i know you will."

one of the rare times you guys use first names

and yes, you do see each other again :)

leo valdez

you and leo happens when you first get to camp

and instantly his mind short-circuits and he's like DAM

he knows you're probs gonna reject him

but hey you miss 100% of the chances you don't take

so he starts off, as always, making some bold flirty comment

and to his surprise, you return the banter

he has to pause for a second

he stutters and thinks of a witty response

you laugh at how flustered he is

and that's the start of a beautiful friendship

from that day on, you two are partners in crime

your guys' days consist of: making stupid things, playing stupid pranks, sneaking out to get fast food, and making vlogs of all of the stupid things you do (on an old vhs recorder leo rigged)

you guys are a two in one; if you went somewhere, he did too

soon, your friendship evolves into things that aren't just fun hangouts

you often catch him under cabin 9 and talk to him

you guys open up to each other in his little workshop, a lot

he tells you things he's never told anyone and you do the same

what's different about your relationship w/ leo is that you don't make fun of him

you barely argue with him, you respect him, you don't call him scrawny, you don't point out his insecurities, and you never make a joke at his expense

this makes him feel a lot more comfortable around you

and he puts down whatever he's doing if you come to him in an emotionally distressful state

you guys listen to each other, cry in front of each other, and help each other feel better

leo becomes the only person in your life you can rely on

and you're the same for him

so his thoughts evolve from DAM to i think i'm in love with you

and everyday he's around you, he finds himself falling more and more in love with you

and every late night you're with him under cabin 9, you start to like him more too

he's nervous to confess to you bc he doesn't want you to not feel the same way and you end up pushing him away or something

but he can't ignore how deeply he feels for you

he can't stand it when other guys try to hit on you bc all that's going through his head is that's my girl

so after a lot of contemplating, he decides he needs to tell you how he feels

he invites you to his workshop at a really specific time (which is weird bc he just says come whenever)

but you go and this man has cleaned the place up and dimmed the lights

he has a robot that he programmed

it sees you and starts playing some really corny love song

and he confesses that he really really likes you and that it kills him seeing other guys trying to flirt with you

he says the sweetest things ever about why he likes you and he just sounds like a fangirl tbh

he starts rambling abt how much he likes and how it's totally okay if you don't feel the same way and that he doesn't want this to affect your friendship if you don't and etc

you just go up to him and kiss him

the robot starts cheering and saying "da lady loves leo!!!!" (he would totally program that change my mind)

he short circuits (like the day you met him)

but he kisses you back, hands around your waist as yours are around his neck

leo smells like burning firewood mixed with cinammon

it's a long and sweet kiss, but you guys have to pull away bc you're laughing too much

why? bc the robot won't stop cheering and saying "da lady loves leo!!!!" so he has to take a minute to make it play your favorite song

"sorry." he'd chuckle. "where were we?"

and then you guys would kiss again

frank zhang

you and frank are best friends

you first met each other cleaning the weapons room

you were looking at archery equipment and you just kinda mindlessly said "i wish i knew how to use this"

and frank's ears shot up so fast

he offered to help you learn, and you guys came to a deal

you'd help him become a better swordsman and he would help you become a better archer

during your guys' training sessions, you'd talk a lot

frank finally felt like he had a real friend

you guys would share stories about your pasts and your interests

maybe a little bit of gossip too

frank was kinda surprised you hung out with him so much bc in his eyes, he was a loser

you reassured him that having different strengths didn't make him weak

you often traded shifts with other campers so you could spend more time with him

as time went on, frank became more confident in his ability as a swordsman

and you became more confident in your skills as an archer

so during the next war game

you two teamed up and actually led your group to victory

no one expected two kids from the fifth cohort to steal a victory like that but you guys did

you were diligent, effective, and cooperative

you guys were over the moon that night and frank thanked you for helping him become a better soldier

and you did the same

it was after that night you guys both realized you had a serious crush on one-another

after countless hours training, cleaning, and working

after having hundreds of deep conversations

after helping each-other reach their goals

you guys realize that you really liked one-another

so one day, some kid at camp makes fun of frank for being better at archery than sword fighting

he shakes it off now, ever since you told him the people who make fun of him probably miss the entire target during archery

but he got really pissed off when the kid said "i guess that's why you and y/n are friends. you exchange weaknesses"

it made him upset bc you aren't weak

you acknowledged you faltered in one spot and wanted to do better

that's brave, that's strong

so frank might've "accidentally" hit the kid with his arrow

it was nothing serious, but he was pinned up against the wall by an arrow

it was rlly funny

unfortunately, reyna didn't think so, and frank got sentenced with a bunch of chores

you didn't know this, so you switched your shift and visited him in the weapons room

you asked him what he'd done to miss all the camp activites

he wouldn't say at first, but then he'd admit he kinda shot an arrow and a kid ended up pinned against a wall

you'd ask why he did that bc you knew frank wasn't violent in the least

and it just comes out right there

he admits he went a little crazy bc he didn't like how this kid was talking about you

he talks about how incredible you are and it made him angry that some kid tried to minimize you to a weakness you were working on improving

"and i don't know, i guess i get heated when it comes to people i love" he'd say, before pausing and realizing what just came out of his mouth

obviously you're smiling bc you love him too

you tell him that you love him too, and that you didn't say anything bc you were scared of ruining your friendship

so yes, your first kiss is in the weapons room

you just kinda jump on him and kiss him

he bumps into the wall behind him and he wraps his arms around your mid-section

and yours are around his neck

it's a cute, sweet kiss

it lasts a few seconds more than it should

frank smells like sugar mixed with the irony-smell of the weaponry

but afterwards, you help frank with his chores so you guys can go train

[p0isongore]

little hazel color study, ive never colored a poc in my life before so i hope this is a good first try!!

reminding i have emergency commissions open ( 15usd a whole illustration, dm for more info)

[myprophecy]

"oh will is such a bean he would never hurt a fly!!"

girl. THAT BOY IS TEXAN WITH A COUNTRY SINGER MOTHER?? he has probably witnessed more fights break out than all of us combined and he CANONICALLY listens to true crime podcasts!!! bro would 100% go berserk and use his southern accent to scare campers when they don't follow his doctors orders. "oh your wound reopened? OH, RATS! WHAT DID I TELL YA 'BOUT SWORD FIGHTIN'-" he is not a bean, your honour. HE'S A MENACE!!

[pigfacedbitch]

Phobia

idea : your phobia relates to your boyfriend's gifted godly abilities.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Nico Di Angelo x Reader

warning/s : phobia speaks for itself. personally, it's thalassophobia for me. 😓

here is my masterlist!

Jason Grace | Acrophobia (Fear of Heights)

Due to having the same fear as his sister, Jason is completely aware of the dos and dont's when you're an acrophobic.

If you two are forced in situations where you need to be in high places, he always attempts to distract you with anything he can think of.

He prefers embarrassing stories over jokes. His delivery is too deadass and his 'i'm-trying-hard-here-it's-not-funny' look makes you laugh before the punchline.

Knowing that it can be associated with the fear of falling, Jason will reassure you every time that he's going to catch you.

If you did fall, during some battle for example, he will asks you to close your eyes and hold you tighter before slowly bringing you down.

He really lives up to that Superman nickname so much, the others started calling you Lois Lane.

Percy Jackson | Thalassophobia (Fear of Deep Bodies of Water)

Percy would be bummed out. Being the son of Poseidon, he loves to be in the water.

Everything about him— from his favorite hobbies to his happiest of memories, revolves around it and he wants to share that with you.

He plans on taking you on trips underwater; introduce you to the majestic marine creatures nobody else has seen before, unravel mysteries the sea has to offer, and form a big bubble where you can do whatever you want without being interrupted (ehem👀).

But how can he make all of it possible when your fear is literally all of those?

Percy would want to help you get over it. He wouldn't force you but he will at least try convince you.

If you refuse, he will respect that.

But if you accept his help, he'll try to take it one step at a time. Probably by starting to show you how the sea, no matter terrifying it is, is also beautiful place.

Leo Valdez | Pyrophobia (Fear of Fire)

Initially, Leo will laugh. I mean, who wouldn't?

You're a pyrophobic yet you're dating someone who is actually made out of fire?

After he notices that you're not joking, he will begin to be terrified for you. Expect that Leo will be extra careful when you are with him, especially when he is working on something.

His contraptions deemed too dangerous like explosives, will be kept somewhere far away.

As much as he thinks your presence will make Bunker 9 a lovelier workspace, he will understand if you don't want to go there. The essense of it is from the god of fire himself— I mean you need a blast of fire to enter.

He also will refrain himself from using his fire abilities in a fight, making do with his inventions instead.

While pyrophobia doesn't have specific causes, it may be possible that you had some traumatic experience relating to fire. Leo doesn't want to hurt you or make you feel worse.

Frank Zhang | Zoophobia (Fear of Animals)

Frank is confused. He doesn't know that the fear of animals is a thing and would wonder why you agreed on dating him in the first place.

He will ask you tons of questions; what caused your phobia? Are you afraid of all animals, a few, or just one? What can I do? After your conversation, he's going to search more information.

If you're afraid of one animal only, Frank will forget it ever existed. He will never talk of that animal again even when you're not around.

The others will joke about it. Example, if you're scared of snakes—

"What is a snake, Frank?"

"What's that, Leo? I have no idea, so let's never speak of it again."

In the case that you're afraid of all animals (this is a rare condition), he will not use his abilities and will train harder in combat.

When he really doesn't have a choice but to shapeshift in a fight, you two will separate with your friends' assurance that they got your back.

Frank is a nice guy but if someone made an offensive comment about your phobia or hardcore pranks involving that animal? Expect the wrath and rage of Mars.

Nico Di Angelo | Phasmophobia (Fear of Ghosts)

I'm sorry but Nico will slightly judge you. Really, a ghost? What are you, five?

Like Frank, he will ask you what caused your phobia.

He will feel terrible and comfort you if you have the same experience as Reina and Jason, who's loved ones turned into a mania. If it's because of horror movies, he will awkwardly pet your head.

You may think the subject is dropped but Nico will make sure that no ghost will ever come near you.

Having the infamous title 'Ghost King', he will not hesitate to torment and threaten the spirits who try to approach, scare, or talk to you.

He will take you on dates to McDonalds but he will not bring you to any 'ghost business'.

If you want to get rid of your phobia, Nico will summon ghosts who can entertain you; like singers, dancers, those that can do tricks, and stand up comedians.

He will also show you how easily he can bend any ghost to his will, proving to you that there's nothing to be afraid of.

[cece693]

He's Taken (Jason Grace x Son of Aphrodite)

Since one of you requested something with Jason and a son of Aphrodite, I wrote this to prepare for it :)

Summary: Piper has had the biggest crush on Jason...too bad he's already taken and by her sibling, no less.

tags: Piper chases after Jason, she should've known he was taken, you're Aphrodite's favorite child, jealousy between siblings, protective Jason

Piper should’ve known Jason was taken the moment he politely turned down her flirtatious remarks, following it up by calling her a "very good friend." Friend. That word alone should’ve raised multiple red flags, but Piper was blinded by her crush on the son of Jupiter. Maybe Jason was just as oblivious as Percy had been, from what Annabeth had fondly recalled, but when their group arrived at Camp Half-Blood and the Roman immediately ran toward a handsome boy waiting at the camp’s border, Piper finally understood.

The reason Jason wasn’t interested in her was because he was already in a relationship—with you, M/N, Aphrodite’s most favored child. Though no one had explicitly said you were the favorite, the moment Piper stayed in Cabin 10 and saw you casually conversing with your mother through a seashell—as if it were the most natural thing in the world—she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Here you were, not only in a relationship with Jason, the boy she liked, but you were also head of Cabin 10, and on such good terms with Aphrodite, a goddess often criticized for her distant treatment of her children.

Piper wanted to hate you, but it was impossible.

You were kind—too kind. You had a natural charm that Piper couldn’t help but notice, and it wasn’t long before you started forming close friendships with the rest of her friends. You had been friends with Annabeth, Percy, and Nico way before Piper knew them, so that didn't sting, but when Hazel, Frank, and Leo began to enjoy your company, hanging out without a care in the world, it stung.

Each interaction stoked Piper’s jealousy. She could see how easily you fit in with everyone—how naturally people gravitated toward you. It wasn’t your fault, but it felt like you were taking over her world.

Then, she heard about the rite of passage.

While spending more time with the children of Aphrodite, Piper learned about an old tradition within the cabin. Each camper, once they had reached a certain level of maturity or skill, was expected to break someone’s heart. It was supposed to be a test—an initiation of sorts to prove their power over love, to demonstrate that they could wield it as a tool. It had been prohibited a while back, campers calling it an outdated and cruel practice, but Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still following the old ways.

You're playing him, she thought bitterly. How dare you wrap him around your finger, only to break his heart down the line. Upon discovering this, she was unable to take it anymore. Storming into Cabin 10, while the rest of camp was busy at the dining pavilion, Piper found you sitting on your bed, reading, looking annoyingly serene.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Piper spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

You looked up slowly, frowning at the harsh tone. “What?"

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know,” Piper snapped, stepping closer. “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re using Jason, stringing him along, just waiting for the perfect moment to break his heart.”

“Piper, you’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?”

“The rite of passage!” Piper’s voice was rising, her emotions barely under control. “That ridiculous tradition your cabin has where you break someone’s heart to prove yourself. That’s what you’re doing to Jason, isn’t it? You’re leading him on, playing him!”

You sighed, setting your book aside, your patience wearing thin. “Piper, you’re letting your jealousy cloud your judgment. This isn’t about Jason or some old tradition—this is about you not being able to accept that Jason is with someone else.”

Piper’s eyes flashed, her fists clenching at her sides. “Don’t twist this around on me! I’m trying to protect Jason. You’re going to hurt him—I know it. You’ve been manipulating him from the start!”

“No, Piper,” you said firmly, standing to face her. “This is your jealousy talking. You’re so desperate to find something—anything—to make Jason yours that you’re willing to believe whatever makes me the villain. But the only thing you're doing is pushing him away. Accept that he only sees you as a friend."

Although Piper disliked you immensely, that didn't mean you were happy to see your sibling suffer. Love was both a blessing and a curse. While you felt in paradise, basking in Jason's love, Piper suffered from painful, unrequited love.

Piper’s breath caught in her throat, her anger faltering for a moment as your words struck a chord. But she quickly pushed it aside, shaking her head. “That’s not true. I just don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“You don’t want to see him get hurt, or you don’t want to see him happy with someone else?”

Piper’s face flushed with anger and hurt. “I love him! And I know he loves me too, he just doesn’t see it because you’ve blinded him!”

Before the argument could escalate further, the cabin door swung open, and Jason stepped inside, his brow furrowed with confusion. His sharp blue eyes flicked between you and Piper, quickly sensing the tension in the room. “What’s going on?”

Piper turned to him, her desperation clear as she rushed to explain, “Jason, you have to listen to me—M/N’s just using you, manipulating your feelings to pass some sick test!”

Jason’s frown deepened, clearly caught off guard by her accusation. “What are you talking about?”

Piper’s voice cracked, a mix of panic and emotion seeping through as she took another step toward him, her eyes pleading. “That old rite of passage—where a child of Aphrodite has to break someone’s heart. He’s just waiting for the perfect moment to tear you apart. I’m trying to protect you from getting hurt!”

Jason blinked, his confusion gradually giving way to understanding. His posture relaxed as he sighed, but his voice remained firm. “Piper, stop. You’re wrong.”

Piper froze in place, her heart pounding in her chest as Jason’s words sunk in. “What? No, Jason, I’m not wrong! They’re lying to you!”

Jason stepped forward, his gaze steady and unwavering. “No, they’re not. I already know about the rite of passage, Piper. M/N told me about it a long time ago.”

The room seemed to close in on Piper, her world momentarily spinning. “You…you knew?”

Jason nodded slowly. “Yes. And I also know that it was M/N who banned it.”

Piper shook her head, her mind racing as she tried to process what he was saying. “No, that can’t be true. He’s just...how can you be so sure?”

Jason sighed softly, stepping closer to her, his voice quieter but filled with conviction. “Piper, I know you’re trying to protect me, but you have to understand—I know M/N. I know him better than anyone, and he would never hurt me. He loves me too much to do something as horrible as that."

Piper’s eyes darted between the two of you, still filled with confusion and doubt. “But what if you’re wrong? What if—”

“I’m not wrong, Piper,” Jason interrupted gently but firmly, his gaze unwavering. “I trust him completely. He’s never given me a reason to doubt him.”

Piper stood there, frozen for a moment, Jason’s words echoing in her mind. The certainty in his voice, the way he spoke about M/N with such unwavering trust—it hit her like a punch to the gut. Jason was in love with him. Truly, deeply in love.

Her heart cracked. No matter how much she wanted to believe she could change his mind, the reality was staring her in the face: she didn’t stand a chance.

Without saying another word, Piper took a step back, her chest tightening as the weight of her unrequited feelings pressed down on her. She bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling, her pride barely holding together. Then, before either of you could say anything more, she turned on her heel and fled the cabin, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft thud.

Jason stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, his expression a mixture of regret and sadness. He sighed softly, turning back to you with a look of concern. “I didn’t mean for things to get that heated. I never wanted to hurt her.”

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle embrace. “She’ll be okay. She just needs time to process everything. It's not easy to get over a crush; I should know.”

Your attempt at a joke landed miserably, but to your relief, Jason let out a small chuckle, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a warmth that enveloped both of you.

“Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?” he asked, his voice soft and sincere.

“Oh, just like a thousand times,” you replied playfully. “But I also ask myself the same thing: how did I get so lucky as to find you, Jason Grace?”

Smiling up at him, you felt your cheeks heat up as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, gazing at you with quiet admiration. The world around you faded into the background, leaving just the two of you wrapped in this moment. “I don’t deserve you.” he said, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

You shook your head with a chuckle, determined to dispel his doubts. “You deserve all the good things, Jason.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”