#been watching a guy since you were twelve years old and it’s the first time you actually make art for his birthday… what a world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 1 year ago

Text

our secret moments.

ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers

in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.

this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D

songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument

5.6k words

your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.

vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.

you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.

high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.

he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.

but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.

“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”

both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.

your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.

your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.

lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.

your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.

okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.

“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.

“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“

“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.

“he is!” you protest, waving them off.

you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.

“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.

“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.

the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.

you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.

“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.

you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.

“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”

lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.

it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.

you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday

user: are they together?

otheruser: mother?

landonorris: lost millions.

user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.

and 444 other comments

you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.

apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.

“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.

“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.

“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.

“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.

you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.

lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.

“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.

“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.

“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.

lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.

“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.

“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”

he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)

landonorris: whoops?

user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?

user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.

user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?

yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.

otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW

and 567 other comments

“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.

“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.

you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.

none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.

you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.

you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.

“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.

“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.

“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.

you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.

“lando, why are you doing this?”

“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: dinner w bestie

user: lando took this. bet.

user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando

landonorris: how was dinner?

youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.

user4: a date if i ever saw one?

user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?

user4: @ user63 girl. be so fr

and 329 other comments

the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.

your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.

“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.

“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.

“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.

“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.

“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.

“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.

“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.

you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: new heights n pretty lights

user2: i know who took 3/4 of these pics.

landonorris: i want that hat back btw

user6: she is the moment

user: mommy? huh who said that?

and 588 other comments

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lando.jpg: from the road

oscarpiastri: violation.

youruser: can u send me these. especially the one of oscar :)

user4: WAIT didn’t she post the second one a while? LANDO TOOK IT?

user81: oscar 😭😭

maxfewtrell: why don’t you take nice pictures of me like this?

user11: the wags are fighting omg

and 799 other comments

your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.

nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.

lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.

you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.

so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.

that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.

it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.

but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.

no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.

cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.

“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.

“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.

“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“

“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.

“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.

great, now you are crying.

“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“

alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.

“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.

fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.

“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*

“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.

“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.

your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.

you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.

you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.

the flight home is quiet.

your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.

you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.

you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.

he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.

“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.

“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.

your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.

“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.

“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.

“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.

“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.

“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.

“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”

“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.

“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.

“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.

“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”

fuck.

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: commotion for the dress?

yourfriendmia: *commotion*

user5: on my knees begging

user1: no lando like? divorce? 😟

mclaren: always good to see you! 🧡

yourfriendnancy: kicking my feet looking at this lord have mercy

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you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.

from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?

he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.

you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.

the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.

you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.

he says your name, and the world stops for a second.

“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.

you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.

“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.

“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.

you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.

someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.

you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.

dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.

plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.

“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.

“lead the way.”

he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.

“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.

“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.

“come home with me.”

you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.

you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.

the door slams softly behind you.

lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.

“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.

your breath hitches in your throat.

“neither can i.” you whisper.

“we can be more.”

“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.

“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.

“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.

“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.

lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“can i…?” lando mutters.

you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.

“of course you can.”

he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.

you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.

“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.

the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.

“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.

“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.

“say it.”

“fucking incredible.”

“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.

his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.

his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.

lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.

“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.

“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.

“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.

lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.

he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.

he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.

“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.

your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.

the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.

lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.

one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.

“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.

lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.

“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.

“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.

“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.

“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”

“oh?” he coos, mockingly.

“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.

“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”

the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.

lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.

“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.

“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.

he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.

“you sure?”

“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.

it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.

you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.

lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.

“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”

the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.

you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.

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youruser: our secret moments

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youruser: @ landonorris omg shut up (omw over)

user1: FINALLY

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thinking-emoji · 19 days ago

Text

RNZ interview mirror - the original file is exactly 700 kb too big for tumblr so I had to compress it slightly 🙃

Transcript under the cut!

YouTube megastars Dan and Phil will be coming to Aotearoa next week with a live show full of scandalous stories. For those who don't know them, these two Brits invented being internet famous. Coming to stardom in 2009, the pair have amassed a media empire with over 40 million combined followers, 2 billion views on YouTube, as well as a handful of best-selling books. Dan and Phil went on hiatus in 2018, with each coming out as gay soon after. This is their first tour together since then. The show is called Terrible Influence and it's coming to Auckland's Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre next Thursday, the 19th of December. I caught up with Dan and Phil earlier on the line from Australia.

DnP: Hello.

(Interviewer laughs)

D: Sorry, was that a weird stereo hello there? That must have been disturbing.

I: That's exactly how I wanted you to answer the call.

P: Yes, that's how we speak all the time. D: We share one braincell.

I: You speak in unison.

P: Yes. (laughs)

I: Because you two have lived together for quite some time, haven't you? D: We have. I: Not only working together for many years.

D: Yeah, like imagine like being really fed up with your co-worker and then you want to come home and you want to be like, God, this guy, I can't stand him. Like, what are we doing here, people?

P: Then he's in your house.

I: How long have you lived together for?

D: Errr, fourteen- P: No. D: No, thirteen- twel- P: Twelve years. I want to say twelve years. D: Twelve years, but it feels like 2000. Do you know what I mean? P: Time is not real. We don't know what's going on. D: At this point, we're like, you know, when you go to a zoo and there's two elderly tortoises that are about 400 years old. P: Yeah. D: That's how we feel. P: Yeah.

I: I'm glad that you've decided to, you know, take air travel to get to New Zealand.

D: It's literally the furthest place from home we could ever. So we get some tweets from people that are like, Dan and Phil, thank you for coming to New Zealand because, by golly, you've travelled a bit of a way. But hey, we're happy to be there. New Zealand is a beautiful country. P: Yes. D: And so are the people.

P: Whenever I come to New Zealand, I just want to move to New Zealand. I'm like, why am I in London when I could be in this beautiful, verdant land?

D: A lot of people do abandon for New Zealand and we understand why.

I: Yeah. Yeah. I'm glad that you do understand that. And it's your first big tour back since coming out in 2018. D: It is. I: The show is kind of a little bit like a gossip session. Is that right? Setting some things straight?

D: Absolutely. We're people that have been on the internet for a very long time and people have talked a lot of smack about us over the years, as a lot of people do with anyone with a lot of followers. And we're like, you know what? We all deserve to look back at our past. We all deserve to be roasted for the things that we did and said. That includes us being embarrassing and what our audience were like when they were all teenagers on the internet. But if we have a bit of a therapy session slash Catholic confession, we can end it with a bit of a hug and a pat on the back and go, it's okay. We survived. Here we are now in 2024. So it's like a roast and a healing session at the same time.

I: That must be quite an interesting thing because, you know, you both grew up on the internet and made so much content. You have this huge following that you've built. And so many people work really hard to kind of erase their former selves online. And that's probably something that you cannot do.

D: Oh, no. I would love to. It's too late. P: That's the thing as well. Sometimes our audience know us better than we know ourselves because they watch these videos so much. I never watch my videos back ever. So they'll come up to us at a meet and greet like, remember that thing you did in 2014? I'm like, no. D: No, I don't. P: I don't know what I said or did. D: But Phil, you love this ice cream flavour. P: Yeah. Speaking of ice cream, I'm excited for the Hokey Pokey ice cream. That was the thing I remember in New Zealand. I: It is good.

D: Yeah. Someone said, hey, you're excited to have it again. I was like, what was that? P: We don't have that. D: Don't you remember the time that you had it? P: No. D: Here, I've got this photo on my phone. P: Yeah. I'm going to have some more when I get there for sure.

D: That is not the main reason why we made the travel, but it will help with the jet lag.

P: It's 80% of the reason, I'll be honest.

I: Why is the show called Terrible Influence?

D: I think there's this idea that everyone on the internet, all these creators, all these TikTokers and podcasters are just horrible people that are trying to sell you some kind of crypto scam. And the truth is 90% of them are. And the question that we're asking is, were we terrible? What did we do to all these young people that watch it? Maybe the other question is, what did they do to us? Is what we do inherently bad? Is it a two-way street? Well, maybe we can answer that question and along the way just giggle so much that we kind of forgive and forget.

I: I'm sure you have a pretty good idea of the extent of your influence. But being in high school in New Zealand when Dan and Phil were first starting out, it was almost like a code word. (Dan laughs) It was how weirdos, kind of, identified with each other.

P: I think we've always been happy to kind of have representation for the slightly alternative people of the world.

D: Yeah, we like to joke that it's for the goths, the girls, the gays and the geeks. Any type of person that feels like on any level, they may not be completely mainstream. They may not be vanilla. They might feel other in any kind of way. We have an audience and we look out now because you understand when all these people were 14, it kind of looked like they were all teenagers. Now that they're all adults, some people are coming up to us, they're like, hi, Dan and Phil, meet my child. (laughs) But all these people have been in such different journeys in life. But it's knowing that, you know, back in the day, there was a place where no matter what kind of person they are, they felt like, you know what? Here in this comment section with these guys, I can just be myself and that makes me happy. I think whether that is something that we did do intentionally or it's an accidental byproduct of our influence, we'll take it.

P: And a lot of them have grown up with us as well. That's the lovely thing. So we're meeting people now that are just much older, but they're still watching the videos because we've- we've grown up and they've grown up as well.

I: Absolutely. And you took this hiatus, you know, from the internet. How long was that hiatus for and what was the impetus for it? And for coming back?

D: It was five dark years. P: Five years. D: And there was no Dan and Phil in the world until one day, like Jesus, we returned and here we are now.

P: We did. I think it's always a good thing to kind of have a moment where you're like, what's going on in life? Have a reset. And and I think we're kind of back now.

D: You know, like when everyone, you know, there was a pandemic and then they were like, you know what? My relationship, my job, you have decided it's not for me. I think we were trendsetters there. We did that early, voluntarily style, because we'd been going nonstop since 2009. And I was like, I just need to hit the brakes and look around for a little bit. And then I came back and I was like, hi, guys, I'm gay now. And they were like, ah, yes, that makes sense. But sometimes you have to hit the brake in life in order to take the space, look around you, take stock of things, make decisions. And ultimately, when you come back, it'll be healthier and happier.

P: And we didn't know this Dan and Phil thing- Like when we came back, we're like, do you guys still want these videos? And then, like, the reaction has been incredible, like, so many people watching the gaming channel. D: To the extent people thought Dan and Phil, you need to go on a tour right now. You need to get your butts all the way to Auckland (laughs) because I've been waiting for you to come back and we need to have a good night together. P: Yeah.

I: Yeah. And get out from behind the screen and kind of just interact face to face. You two are hugely into gaming and it's been quite a good pivot from YouTube to kind of try and be more successful, I guess. It's incredible how popular you are on these platforms. Can you tell me a little bit more about how that works and how you kind of make a career out of this?

D: Well, Phil's been doing it so long that he did it before YouTube could even monetize videos. He was doing it purely out of boredom and passion for the craft. P: Yeah. D: That's terrifying.

P: I'm a YouTube dinosaur. But I think with the gaming, we've got a Sims series, which we've got- how many episodes now? Like- D: Oh a hundred or so. P: A hundred episodes. And I think people follow along the journey with us playing the games. And it's like, I guess it's like when you were a little kid and you're watching your big brother play a video game. It's kind of that thing. You're just like watching along, having the bants. So I think what the people come to our videos for is more of the personality and us having a laugh rather than getting really into gaming.

D: Yeah! I mean, gaming is just the topic. It's like any type of TV or radio talk or commentary show, it could be about football, it could be about music and pop culture or the news, you just want to see people that you relate to, that you find entertaining, doing something that you find interesting and then you pair it together, and for lots of people they go: yeah! This is what i want to see P: Yeah.

I: Phil, how have you noticed the kind of gaming culture change over time, and was that something you're a little bit hesitant about, you know coming out as gay in that kind of domain, because we know generally that - you know, over the last decade-

D: The gamers are the worst demographic in the world absolutely- I: Things have changed. D: We’ve been on the internet since the ancient times and it's hard to say, like in a way obviously the internet these days, it feels like it's more terrible than ever, but in a sense it is a lot less toxic and a lot more wholesome and inclusive than it used to be.

P: Yeah, I'd say coming out on the internet is always going to be a scary thing, when you're saying that and being kind of vulnerable in front of so many people. Thankfully we've got such a great audience that the reaction was incredible, I would say.

D: And i think that what's great about the internet is that people can find their own communities, so even within spaces that you might think, oh they're dominated by this type of person – any subculture, any type of person that feels like, I want this space for myself – you can find it. If you want to order you know a ping pong club for girls with ginger hair called Susan that drink wine on a Tuesday, you can start that discord server, people will love it.

I: And I think it's nice to have those pocket on the internet where people can feel safe and can kind of commune together. You will be playing the Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre in Tāmaki Makaurau, Auckland, on December the 19th. What about people who didn't grow up watching you, who think you might be quite funny right now. Like what could you say to them if you want them to come to your show?

P: I'd say, well luckily for you we have got a whole section of the start of the show which is the complete history of Dan and Phil in five minutes, so if you might have just slightly known who we are and be like, what's going on with these guys? We're going to catch you up in no time.

D: A lot of people drag their boyfriends, their sisters, sometimes like that mum that you need to drive you so you can have a couple of cocktails to the show, and we're like we need something for these people, we're going to catch them up, we're going to get them on our side, and if we have a spot- there's like a grumpy dad folding his arms in row three, I'm like, I'm going to crack you P: but- D: My mission for the night is you're going to be belly laughing by the end. P: They're always smiling at the end though. That's the thing, we do. We do crack them.

I: Oh and this will be your last show before a well deserved Christmas break, then back into the new year. What will Christmas look like for both of you?

P: I mean we're going to try and get home for Christmas. D: Yeah, yeah the question is, can we get back from Auckland on the 21st of December? P: Twenty- yeah. I think it's gonna be a challenge to get all the way home, but then I'm probably just gonna be asleep on my mum's sofa with jet lag, hoping to drink a lot of cocktails. D: I'm gonna slip into a nice coma.

I: I'm really glad to hear you are back together again.

D: Oh, well thank you! We really, really appreciate it and we're so excited for the show, so thank you New Zealand. P: Nice speaking to you!

@dnp-described

#dan and phil #phan #shoutout to tumblr for crashing while i proofread the transcript #daniel howell #amazingphil

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lovecla · 3 months ago

Text

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

epilogue:

how soph got her inspiration to write ‘juno’

➴ warnings: smut (unprotected sex, breeding kink, cock warming, aftercare, creampie, p in v, slightly degradation.), mentions of dad!jack and mom!reader, mentions of ovulation, domestic soph and jack.

➴ word count: 2.9k

➴ author’s note: inspired by ‘juno’ by queen sabrina and also by the videos of jack with kids on my fyp. i am sorry for being a whore but also, not really. enjoy! ♡

BEING a mom wasn’t something that you thought you wanted.

You’d always say that, ever since you were a little girl, when your sisters talked about how they wanted to marry a nice guy and have two point five kids— all girls— and name them after Disney princesses. You’d just stare at them weirdly and go back to pretend you were doing some interview for The Tonight Show with Jay Leno.

And Jack shared the same opinion— you knew that he wanted kids but it wasn’t a priority on his list. He never really mentioned them, not like Quinn, who was always talking about how he wanted to be a great father, just like Jim is.

But the thing is, you never really cared about being a mom, or making Jack a father for that matter, until you saw how Jack acted around kids.

First, it’d been with your nieces, Aurora and Jasmine. Back in 2023, you’d invited your mom, your stepdad, your sisters and their families to spend the New Years with you and Jack’s family. It was a huge mess, the house was packed with people but you were so happy to watch your favorite people— the Hughes and the Montenegro— get along with each other that the lack of space wasn’t an issue at all.

Then, you introduced your nieces to Jack.

“My babies,” you smiled, picking the four-year-old up, noticing how big she’d gotten since the last time you saw her. “This is Auntie’s boyfriend, his name’s Jack. Can you say hi?”

Aurora looked at Jack with big, bright eyes, and you could tell she was enchanted with his warm smile and blue eyes.

Jasmine stood behind your legs, the seven-year-old also staring at him with curious eyes.

“Hi, uncle Jack,” Jasmine whispered, holding your leg tighter. You gasped, not expecting her to call Jack ‘uncle’ so soon. He also looked surprised, but just for a second, before he went down on one knee and offered the little girl his hand.

“Hey, honey,” he replied back, shaking hands with the seven-year-old. “Nice to meet you and your sister.”

Aurora was looking down, the pacifier in her mouth moving around, until she finally decided Jack was worthy of her attention, moving her body towards the floor, signaling that she wanted to be down there with him.

You chuckled, sitting on the floor with them, watching as Aurora crawled her way to Jack’s lap, offering him her Maleficent plush she carried around everywhere.

“Oh, you want me to hold this?” He asked, voice gentle and funny. He picked her up and held the toy with his other hand, still smiling. “Thank you, Imma keep it safe. Jasmine, you wanna share your toys with me too?”

Jasmine ended up rambling about how she was too big for toys and that now she was only interested in singing like her auntie, which made you laugh and confess that you played with Barbies until you were twelve.

Jasmine and Aurora absolutely loved Jack. And you could see that he loved them right back, with how much attention he gave them, playing with them the entire night and answering all of their— mostly Jasmine’s— noisy questions. And when you were sitting on the couch, talking with Ellen and your mom, you watched with heart eyes as he leaned against the wall, talking to Quinn and Luke while holding a sleeping Aurora in his arms, gently rocking her back and forth, while covering her with her blanket.

After that night, you started noticing how he acted around kids. Either when he went to hospitals to visit the sick children who rooted for the Devils, or when he went with you to your concerts and interacted with the few kids there.

The way he picked them up, answered their questions, held their hands— it definitely did something to you. Not only to your brain, but to your entire body. You could always be sneaky and blame your ovulation for being a whore, but truth be said: the idea of Jack getting you pregnant was hot, even if it wasn’t something you wanted right now.

You were sitting on Quinn’s couch, watching as Jack held one of his cousins in his arms and talked to a man who was probably one of his uncles.

He looked so fucking good. His hair was a bit shorter, and he was getting bigger now, probably due to the fact that he spent too much time at the gym with Luke.

You were trying to continue the conversation with Ellen, answering her questions about your music and fans, but it was extremely hard. Jack being only a few feet away from you didn’t help, at all.

“Are you feeling okay, Soph dear?” Ellen put her hands on your knees, squeezing them slightly.

You turned your head back and smiled, deciding to tell her a half-truth. “Just a little tired and jet lagged, that’s all. Don’t worry, ma’am.”

She laughed, as she always did whenever you called her that.

“Do you want to take a nap in Quinny's room? He won’t mind.”

You felt bad because now your mother-in-law thought you weren’t feeling well but the full truth was you were just very much horny and wanting her son to fuck you.

“There’s no need for that, I’ll just wait until Jackie is ready to head back,” you nodded, looking at Jack again, who was now trying to put the baby to sleep— and failing miserably, since all the kid wanted was to remove his cap from his head.

“I’m going to talk to Jack so you both go home, okay?” She replied and before you could even stop her, she got up and walked towards Jack.

You watched as she picked the baby out of Jack’s hand and said something to him, while pointing back at you. Jack turned his head to the side and looked right back at you, and you could see that he was starting to get worried.

He nodded at something that she said, and quickly kissed her on the cheek, walking back at you.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, holding your hand and gently pulling you closer. “Mom said you weren’t feeling well. Why didn’t you tell me, Soph?”

“I’m fine, I just—” what would you even say? Hey, I’m horny and I need you to fuck me? “Hum. I can wait until you’re ready to go.”

“Nah, let’s go now.”

You barely recall the time between saying goodbye to everyone, getting in the car and heading back to Jack’s place. You spent the entire time trying to stop the wetness between your thighs and praying that it wouldn’t stain Jack’s car seat, squirming around.

“What’s the matter with you, baby?” He chuckled, placing his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly.

You didn’t answer, just tried to keep your mind in pink unicorns and old grandmas. No horny thoughts allowed until you were both at home.

Which, thankfully, didn’t take long. Jake parked inside of his garage, and you got out of the car like your ass was on fire.

“Sophia!” You heard him yell at you, before you opened the front door with your keys.

You didn’t make it too far, he grabbed you by your waist when you were making your way to his bedroom. “Soph, what is wrong with you today, baby?”

You whined, not sure of what to say. “Jack?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You stand on the tip of your toes and kiss him, your tongue fighting for space inside his mouth. He kissed you back just as ferociously, his grip on your waist becoming harder.

“‘Want you to knock me up,” you mumbled against his lips, watching as his blue eyes stared down at you, full of lust. “N-not really, but… please?”

He smirked. “You wanted to leave my brother’s house because you wanted me to knock you up?”

Well, when he put it like that…

“What a fucking slut, baby,” Jack whispered, gripping your ass with his right hand. “Just because you wanted me to make you carry my children?”

“Jack.” You moaned, holding onto his hoodie for dear life.

“You want me to make you a mommy, Soph?” Instead of letting you answer, he kissed you again, picking you up and walking with you, without breaking the kiss.

He managed to get you both in his room, and placed you on his bed, quickly taking his clothes off— the hoodie, the jeans, the shirt and then the boxers. His dick stood there hard and thick, the tip so red it was almost purple, leaking pre-cum.

You actually moaned just with the sight of it. The need of Jack’s cock inside of you, in and out, putting you in the right place, made you sweat.

You took off your own hoodie and your own shirt, thanking God for the past-you who chose not to wear a bra that day. Your nipples were hard and sensitive, just like they always are during ovulation week, that just the cold breeze inside the bedroom made you shiver.

You removed your jeans and stared at your situation, feeling disgusting and extremely horny at the same time— your panties were so wet that they were completely see through now, the thin layer of fabric doing nothing to cover your pussy.

“Jack,” you moaned again, feeling frustrated. “‘Need you.”

“I can see that, baby,” he smirked, towering your body with his. “I’ll take care of you, mhm?”

You nodded, kissing him one more time because you couldn’t get enough of his lips.

He removed your panties and threw them somewhere, the sound of something wet crushing against the floor filling up the room, making you cringe. Ovulation sucks.

He broke the kiss, moving on to your tits, sucking and biting and groping them, which didn’t help with the problem between your legs.

Jack finally let go, positioning himself so that he could be inside you in a quick, swift move. You moaned, feeling finally full and satisfied.

“Fuck, Soph, you’re so fucking wet, baby,” he breathed in your ear as he pounded inside you, as if you couldn’t hear the pornographic sounds whenever he sank deeper inside you. “All of this just because you wanted my kids? You could’ve just asked, uh, y’know?”

You wanted to reply so bad, tell him that it was just your post-period brain being absurd and crazy, but you had already reached that place inside your head you craved so much, the silence, the calmness— every thought being shoved inside a drawer and the only thing on your head was how Jack reached deep inside you, and how you could feel him in your belly, and how much you loved him and how you wanted to be the mother of his children so badly.

The saltiness of your tears inside your mouth made you realize that you were fully crying, as you often did whenever Jack took you to the right place. All you wanted to do was let him take care of you, and hand your life to him on a silver platter.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He sucked on your right nipple, fucking you so hard the mattress was moving. “Knowing that you’re gonna be a mommy? Carry my children and have my last name?”

You nodded even though you wanted to speak, but your tongue felt glued to the roof of your mouth and your mind was busy conjuring images of Jack holding babies who looked like the perfect mix between the two of you, and being the greatest dad ever and you wanted that so, so much.

“Can’t even speak, fuck, baby,” He mocked you, rubbing your clit furiously, making you scream and try to close your thighs— no success, since Jack’s body made it impossible. “None of that, Soph.”

You knew you probably looked like a mess; hair tangled, face wet with tears and probably spit too, tits marked and with his handprints on them, but it didn’t matter. All you wanted was JackJackJack.

You came with an obnoxiously loud scream, legs trembling and eyes rolled to the back of your head, while Jack still rubbed your sensitive, swollen clit and slammed his cock inside you.

You clutched the sheets like your life depended on it, head going side to side, eyes closed the entire time, until you felt the familiar sensation of Jack’s come deep inside you.

“Good God, Soph,” Jack sounded out of breath. “Fuck.”

You still didn’t feel ready to speak, the tears still rolling down your face, so you just waited until he moved around, laying down and bringing you with him, his dick softening inside of you, something he knew you liked to have after sex.

He kissed your forehead and put the duvet on top of both of you, as you slowly came back to life, listening to his heartbeat and counting your own breaths.

“I love you,” you mumbled, wanting nothing more than a nap.

He chuckled, before kissing your forehead again. “I love you too. D’you think we’re going to be parents now?” He joked, and you smacked his chest, lightly.

“Don’t be silly.”

He just hummed, deciding to leave you alone (for now) and removing himself from you instead. You winced, feeling his cum coming out of you, as you clenched around nothing.

Jack then picked you up, and walked with you to the bathroom, making sure that you peed before showering. He left the bathroom for no more than a minute, just to give you some privacy— he knew that even after all this time, you were still embarrassed to pee in front of him— and came back with your favorite pajamas: cotton panties and an old NJ Devils shirt.

You smiled, seeing his name and number plastered on the back of the shirt, remembering the night you first met, and how pissy he was because you were wearing Nico’s jersey.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

“Ready, baby?” He asked, blue eyes staring so deep into your soul that you had no option but to agree with everything he said.

He gently held your hand, guiding you until you were standing inside the big shower stall, the warm water untying all the knots in your body.

You leaned against his body, both of you under the water now, humming as he cleaned you, with your favorite vanilla scented body wash— which he secretly loved more than you.

His hands work slowly and gently, spreading the soap on all of your body, and you just stand there, accepting it and hiding your face as you feel his fingers entering you again, removing his release.

You should be used to it by now but it was still a foreign feeling, being so well taken care of sometimes still scared you, but Jack was nothing but patient.

You watched as he cleaned his own body, not using even half of the gentleness he used with you, which made you smile. If you weren’t so tired, you’d offer your help, but right now all you wanted was to sleep beside him.

He turned the water off and got out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his hips. He smiled at you and picked up another towel, drying your body with it.

He didn’t wash your hair so no need for hair dryers, thankfully, so you just slipped into your custom made pajamas and waited until he got himself dressed as well— a Calvin Klein underwear— before you both washed your teeth and got out of the bathroom.

You sat on the bed, trying your hardest not to smile, not wanting to look crazy. But you were happy. So, so happy, you were probably writing about this later.

“Here, pretty,” he handed you a bottle of water, already opened. “Drink this for me and we're ready to go to sleep.”

You thanked him softly before practically chugging the water bottle and placing it on your nightstand.

Jack smiled and gave you a peck, before sliding into the bed with you, pulling you close, as he always did. He wasn’t much of a snuggle guy, but he knew how much you liked them, so he just followed the lead.

After a few minutes in silence, you turned around so you could face those sapphire eyes you loved so dearly. “I am on birth control,” you whispered, feeling a little bit embarrassed. “Just so you know.”

He smiled, chuckling. “I know that, baby. I was just giving you something you needed.”

You nodded, not sure if you should feel content or not. Did that mean Jack doesn’t want you to be the mom of his kids? Your post-sex brain shouted yes.

He must have sensed that something was going on inside of your brain, because he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“For the record, I do want to have babies with you,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe you thought otherwise. “Just maybe not now? I’m still twenty-three and you’re almost twenty-five.”

“‘S fine,” you mumbled, hiding your face on his chest. “I know that. I was just being horny.”

You heard his breathy laugh and his chest moving according to the sound. “Yeah. I know that too, baby,”

The jet-lag and the tiredness of the day hit you like a trunk, and you were out not even five minutes later, nestled inside the heavy duvet and Jack’s arms.

“I love you, Soph,” Jack’s whisper was the last thing you heard, making a tired smile appear on your lips.

“‘Love you more.”

| LATER |

liked by dawson1417, _quinnhughes, zendaya and 3,972,082 others

sophiamontenegro 'juno' music video is out now!

starring our nhl stars, _quinnhughes, jackhughes and lhughes_06, my beautiful best friend morgan.grace and my loving niece aurora!

i love all of u and i'm so thankful for all the love you guys have given 'make me yours' so far!!! xx tell me ur favorite positions ;)

View all 13,091 comments

morgan.grace I LOVE YOU

user1 she wrote this during ovulation week bc ain’t no way

lhughes_06 😌

user4 when she sang “god bless your dad’s genetics” and the camera showed quinn jack and luke sitting on the couch I DIED. LIKE HELL YES

user2 idk about you guys but i found it sooo cute when she said “one of me is cute but two though?” and showed a baby who looked just like her 🥹🥹🥹🥹 i need sophia to be a mom right now

nicohischier 😮😮😮

trevorzegras why didn’t u call me, I’m a great actor

sophiamontenegro trevorzegras dwayne get out my fucking comment section. go do something man

user12 my favourite part was when she said “i showed my friends, then we high fived” and it was her and grace stalking jack’s instagram 💀💀

user7 i giggled so hard when she sat on jack’s lap and sang “i’m so fucking horny” and he SMIRKED. HELP 💜

jackhughes you know my favorite one

| the end |

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #jack hughes insta edit #jack hughes au #jack hughes imagine #IYLMLMK

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omiangelic · 2 months ago

Text

shared moments (dabi)

a handful of shared moments between you and your maybe more than friend, touya todoroki, the flame villain.

this is a prequel to the first fic i posted, pheonix, but it could be read as a standalone !

wc: 2.8k

reader is not described but is implied to have a quirk that makes them colder. i also imply that they're a nurse who frequently works with burn patients, including dabi's victims.

cw: 18+ ONLY !!! no smut, just kissing, grinding, and shirts come off but it ends pretty quickly after that. dabi accidentally wounds reader (a small burn from trying to wake him from a nightmare), mentions of abuse, murder, dying, and nausea. soft yet emotionally stunted and avoidant dabi

playlist: maybe by flower face, zombie by everglow, voidstar and longlegs by grim salvo

He’s shaking, head in your lap. You think he might be crying, but his hands are covering his face as he curls up as tight as he can. Dabi didn’t usually spend the night, but on rare occasion you can wrangle him into sleeping a few hours before running off who knows where. Tonight had been fun, daresay cozy, watching bad movies under a blanket so you could use him as a space heater and he could use you as an icepack.

It’s near four in the morning, far past when he usually sneaks out of your tiny apartment, when you awoke to his distress. He’d been squirming on his side of your too-small bed, mumbling and whimpering unconsciously. Even now, you don’t think he’s realized the small burn on your arm from trying to wake him, but you don’t move to soothe it; you’re too busy trying to soothe him. You rub his side over his shirt and pet a hand through his spiky hair even though he’s long since stopped shaking. You pretend you don’t care you have work in a few hours.

Now, he’s completely motionless, arms fallen to the cushion of the mattress. His voice is raspier than normal when he finally speaks, “…Sorry about that.”

“’S okay. I’ve seen worse.”

You both know he’s caused your ‘worse’.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on up here?” You tap your fingers softly against his temple. It’s a miracle he hasn’t moved yet.

“Don’t think that’s something you’d wanna hear about.”

“You can tell me anyways,” you can practically hear him go over the notion in his head. You met almost a year and you hardly know anything about the man besides his preferred snacks and the types of movies he likes to make fun of.

He thinks for a bit before stating, “you’ve never asked about my scars.”

You hum in agreement. The healed tissue is naturally textured but worsened from insufficient aftercare. The skin grafts look like they were done by someone with medical experience, at least. “Were you dreaming about when you got them?” The scar tissue on his face always made it look like the flames had tried to take him in its hands; like it wanted to soothe him. Console him. You want to do the same.

“Kinda,” he says after another long pause, like he’s trying to find the words, “maybe more like ‘why’.”

He can’t see you frown at that. You don’t like the implication it carries.

He’s quiet for a long time while you brush through his hair. It’s gotten longer- you think you can see blonde roots peak through the inky black.

“My old man…real shit guy,” he takes in a shaky breath and subtly curls deeper into your lap, “I’m gonna kill him one day.”

(You didn’t think he was serious, then.)

“All he cares about is power. He bought my ma so he could create a child more powerful than him. I’m the oldest of four- and his biggest failure,” you wince at the way he chuckles, “It’s funny. He got what he wanted. My youngest brother is a prodigy. He’s one of the top students at U.A.,” Dabi stops again, like he has to prepare himself for what he’s about to say, “I hated that kid for so long. Tried to kill him when he was a toddler, wanted to prove I was better than him. When I was twelve or thirteen I told dear old dad I got stronger,” another pause “He didn’t care,” another pause, like he’s debating telling you the rest at all, “I burned down half a forest, woke up three years later. The fucker who fixed me up showed me pictures of my funeral and everything. Ma got institutionalized not long after…but I gave myself a new name, since I died that day.”

“What was his name?” You ask impulsively. You wish you could take those words back, stuff them in your mouth and swallow them down

“Who’s?” He looks up.

“The boy who died.”

Dabi looks away again, contemplates before relenting, “Touya. Touya Todoroki”

“Touya sounds like a sweet kid. I hope he’s resting easy.”

It’s like the words flipped a switch in him. He shoots to sit up straight. His eyes are angry. Scared.

“You don’t know shit about him.”

“That’s not the point.”

He gets up, paces the length of the bed a few times, stops, looks at the ground, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know shit about me.”

“And whose fault is that?” You really need to learn when to shut your stupid mouth.

He looks up. Sees you fully for the first time since waking. He can see the welt he caused on your arm in his post-nightmare panic. His anger dies. His eyes widen. You reach to slap your hand over it to shield it from view, but he has his jeans on and his jacket and boots in hand before you can find words to say. He’s out the door before you can ask him not to leave.

(You call out of work that day. You won’t hear from him for three weeks.)

Later that day, the search results for Touya Todoroki hurt as bad as you expected them to. There aren’t many paparazzi pictures of him, only a handful of him with his dad at award ceremonies.

His dad. Pro hero Endeavor.

The news coverage of his son’s death is minimal, and it’s mostly about Endeavor taking a leave of absence from hero duties to grieve with his family, but the obituary is public. The white haired boy in the picture looks so young. It’s not very detailed aside from denoting that his funeral was a private ceremony.

You open a new tab and search for fire related quirk malfunctions or natural disasters from around the same time. Its not hard to narrow down that the forest fire that destroyed Sekoto Peak was Dabi’s doing. The flames had been massive and unnaturally hot, nearly impossible to contain. There was barely anything left besides charred bone fragments from wildlife and the partial jawbone of the only human casualty they could find. The victim is unnamed, but it says the police were able to identify them through dental records and bring closure to the family.

There’s a handful of pictures of Endeavor at the scene. They make your stomach churn.

A third tab. Endeavor. There are news articles about his most recent achievements and a few about his youngest son, Shoto, who recently passed the entrance exams into U.A., just like Dabi said.

You feel nauseous.

It’s so comfy laying here wrapped around him like a koala. He’s cold and hot at the same time. There’s one hand cradling the back of your head to his chest while the other rubs your back over the blanket he draped over you.

You don’t usually let him in when work gets you like this. He’s usually the cause, being the most prolific fire quirked villain in the country, but you felt like you needed him today. A little boy had come in with his parents after his first quirk manifestation. All you could see was a young Touya Todoroki when you looked at him. Now all you feel is the pain you feel for the real thing who has you cradled in his arms like you’re more than maybe a friend.

Dabi is prickly when it comes to touch- despite the nerve damage, his scars are sensitive- but for you, he makes exceptions, especially since this is his first time seeing you since his meltdown last month. When he woke up in his dingy-ass apartment today, he knew he had to see you, knew something was wrong. His gut was right. You practically collapsed crying in his arms when you opened the door.

You’ve barely said anything since he’s settled the two of you down on your bed. Every time he thinks about saying something, you burrow impossibly closer into his chest like if you try hard enough you can crawl in his ribs and clean out all the ash and soot that make him up.

He wants to apologize for how he left. He wants to tell you he was scared, that he’s still scared, because he’s never let anyone get close the way you have, and he doesn’t know why he yearns for you to be closer. It’s the only time he ever wishes things had gone differently. If he was closer to a normal guy, less of one of the most wanted villains in the country, maybe he’d let himself be happy to be known by you.

But the only thing Dabi can do is destroy. He burns too hot to be anyone’s light.

Dabi is ruthless. He’s a monster, a villain, a killer; there’s nothing that could clean the blood from his hands.

That doesn’t stop him from pretending things are different, even if just for a moment. You’re naturally cooler to the touch and he finds it hard to imagine ever choosing to be anywhere but in your arms. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling.

Dabi’s never had to comfort someone before. He’s never really wanted to, either.

He isn’t one to be soft or kind or comforting. It’s all so confusing. How do you drag this out of him? Why is he so content with this moment? Something about you makes him different. He doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s scared. He’s angry. He’s unhappy.

You pull yourself away from him completely, scooting to lay on your back on the other side of your bed.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “you can go now. That was probably really uncomfortable for you. You can leave now, if you want.”

Your eyes are so empty. He’s never seen you like this. He doesn’t know what to do. He thinks he wants to stay, make his last visit up to you with more time tonight, but would you rather he go? Should he ask about what upset you? This is so new to him.

He leaves.

The next time he’s over, you pretend to not notice the tension in the air. You move around in your usual sync, gathering snacks and scrolling through the worst rated movies you can find. You feign obliviousness to the way his eyes linger on you for longer than usual and curl up on the opposite side of the choice from him, like the months of slowly shifting closer to each other didn’t happen.

The jokes are bored and the laughs are empty.

He doesn’t spend the night. You don’t ask him to. He doesn’t know why he feels so hollowed out when he leaves.

A few weeks later, after watching movies and ignoring elephants in rooms, you fall asleep. Dabi waits, lets whatever’s playing continue to run while he watches you breathe in and out at a steady rhythm.

The credits roll. He turns off the T.V. and welcomes the darkness lit only by the city as he gets up to lay you down on your little couch. He’s never done this for you before- he doesn’t know why he’s doing it now. Your eyes flutter open as he kisses your forehead and tucks you into your blanket you keep out here.

(He did it without thinking, like it was natural, a habit. He was a big brother, once. He hadn’t realized that part of him survived.)

You look up at him as he stares down at you, eyebrows furrowed at his surprised expression. His eyes flicker to your lips without his permission. He’s already leaning over you, it’d be so easy to crawl on top of you, kiss you, wherever and however you want.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it. Maybe it’s Himiko’s insistence he grow up and take the risk, maybe it’s a moment of weakness where he allows himself to forget who and what he is, but he’s pressing a soft kiss to your lips without realizing. The contact makes your head jerk back, eyes wide in shock, surprise, wonder. You look at him like there’s something worthy of being looked at. His mouth moves to apologize, but you’re shooting your hands to hold his scarred cheeks and pressing you lips to his before he can try. Your skin is so cold against his had surprised at the lack of steam. He thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He doesn’t reciprocate in his shock. His response is even further delayed by the fact that he’s never done this before. He feels like a teenager- or what he imagines what being a teenager under more normal circumstances would allow him. As you move to pull away, afraid you’ve somehow overstepped, Dabi is snapped out of his shock, and he’s pulling you back in. His kiss is messy, wet, spit slick as his tongue licks into your mouth with no hesitation. The taste of his urgency is unexpected but he feels so incredible you can hardly stand it. You revel in the way his dull nails bite into your skin when you whimper at the sensation.

His hands are heavy as they make their way down your body, nearly pushing like he needs a constant reminder that this is real. Before you know it, he’s on the couch, on top of you, pushing at your shirt and you’re pulling it over your head in compliance. Dabi takes the moment to yank off his own; his torso is a marble of normal and scarred skin with a shiny barbell through each nipple. You wonder briefly if the metal is hot like the rest of his skin as his lips crash back into yours. One hand in your hair, the other on your waist- he’s pushing you down, pulling you in, until he's all but crushing you in his desperation.

You moan when he lets up, “Dabi-“

“No, no- don’t call me that. I don’t want to feel like a villain with you,” he’s equally breathless, practically heaving above you.

“…Touya?”

Your uncertainty is immediately discarded when he fully moans at the sound of his given name on your lips, “yes, yes, thank you-“ and he’s kissing you again, cradling your face like you’re porcelain but grinding down like you’re the farthest thing from fragile.

His grip tightens when the pressure of his hips makes you moan.

The weight of his body makes you dizzy. His lips and hands move down your neck, licking, biting, and sucking at all the skin newly exposed to him and it feels so good you don’t now what to do with yourself. You decide on shoving your hands in his hair; you’re pulling it at the root when he bites down next, and he’s moaning into your throat like it might kill him to be quiet.

What does he want from me? The question crashes through your brain like a bullet. You don’t know if you want to actually ask. Would it be so bad to let this happen, just to have him close like this? Is the burden of wanting from afar easier to carry than having him halfway? Yes. Of course it is.

Your sudden unresponsiveness stills him. He pulls away to find your eyes distant and face neutral.

“Touya?” You ask after a silent minute filled with his thumbs rubbing circles in your waist, “what did that mean? To you, for us?”

He gulps, “I don’t know.”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He hadn’t thought at all.

“You don’t know,” you echo.

He’s off you before you can decide what to make of his answer.

“Sorry, don’t know why I did that- sorry,” you think you hear as he fumbles around for his coat and his boots. You don’t say anything. You don’t even look at him. Instead, you focus on the ceiling it’s almost too dark to see. You think you hear him pause at your door, but your head is so loud and intelligible you aren’t paying attention.

The static doesn’t block out the sound of your front door shutting, though.

(Neither of you realize he left his shirt behind until after he’s already out the door. You pretend you resist the urge to cuddle it to catch his scent on it, and he will pretend he doesn’t imagine you doing just that.)

Ever the coward, Touya runs. He throws up his shame once he’s in his own apartment. He knows he shouldn’t have left. He didn’t want to- but he didn’t know how to stay either.

He hates himself more than he has in a long time for tonight.

His burner buzzes in his pocket. It’s Shigaraki. plans in motion.

He doesn’t think you’ll forgive him for doing this, but it’s been building since before he met you. It’s not like he has any sort of life or future to look forward to anyways. It’s not like he gives you much to miss anyways.

Soon. Endeavor’s head. Soon.

dividers by @/issysh3ll and @/thecutestgrotto

♡ Return to Navigation ♡ Masterlist ♡ About Me ♡ Main ♡ Fic Recs ♡

#dabi bnha #dabi mha #dabi x reader #dabi angst #mha angst #bnha angst #touya todoroki angst #touya todoroki x reader #ʚїɞ dabi #ʚїɞ lauren wrote what

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izzy-bee · 2 years ago

Text

— 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

— word count: 1.8k

— pairings: jj maybank x fem!pogue!reader

— summary: 5 times jj resisted the urge to kiss you, and the 1 time he didn't

— warnings: kissing, fluff, swearing, a bit of jealousy

— a/n: my first fic!! i'm so excited to share my writing with you guys! feel free to send in requests, and thank you guys for reading!

masterlist

one;

the first time jj wanted to kiss you, you were twelve years old.

he hadn't seen you all summer. you and your family had travelled to your grandparent's cottage for the holidays, and jj hadn't seen you for three whole months. despite the fact that he would never admit it to anyone else (especially john b and pope), he missed you.

he had had a crush on you for years. although, he would rather die than admit that to you, or anyone, for that matter. you had been his best friend since you two were seven. he didn't want to ruin that.

now, jj had always found you beautiful. with your flowy hair and your pretty eyes and your full lips. but when you showed up at the chateau after being gone, jj's heart practically stopped in his chest.

your skin was glowing from the hot sun, lips pulled into a sweet smile. you were dressed in a simple blue sundress, hanging just above your knees, and a pair of black and white converses.

at the sight of your blonde best friend, you immediately pulled him into a hug. your arms were wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to your height. jj's arm enveloped themselves around your waist, tugging you into his body.

you swayed the two of you back and forth. you had giggled as you separated, grinning up at him. "hi," you had said, resting your hands on his arms.

"hi," he mumbled, breathless at the sight of you.

subconsciously, jj had leaned closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips and your heart stuttered in your chest. just as jj wanted, so badly, to press his lips against your own, the door to the chateau swung open. out came john b, arms spread wide open as he tackled you into a hug.

the sight of your glittering eyes was on jj's mind for the rest of the day.

two;

the second time jj wanted to kiss you, he was teaching you how to surf.

it had never been something you were interested in. usually, you had laid on your beach towel tanning in the sun as the others were in the water.

but not today.

you had expressed your sudden curiosity to the blonde, and he had immediately jumped at the chance to teach you about one of his favourite things. you were straddling a surfboard (his surfboard) as he stood in the water next to you. your fingers were skimming the water's surface, staring up at the sky with sparkling eyes and clumped lashes.

you were practicing getting into position and going over small waves, a request made by you.

one of jj's hands was holding the edge of his surfboard to steady it. you had been contemplating actually standing up from the board or giving up and swimming back to shore.

you had sighed, before looking down at your best friend with a nervous smile. "okay, i'm ready."

"you sure?" jj asked, just in case.

you nodded, using your hands to paddle further out into the ocean. jj backed away, watching as you pressed your chest to the board before you got to your feet. you allowed the waves to push the board without stumbling, riding it back to the blonde.

jj smiled when you laughed in happiness. you sent a bright grin his way, jumping into the water in front of him as you got close enough. you brought jj into a tight hug, giggling with glee as you wrapped your legs around his waist. one of jj's hands cupped your neck as his other arm curled around your back as the two of you bobbed in the water.

he leaned his head back, eyes tracing over your face. you cupped his face in his hands and jj's stomach twisted in knots. he stared at your lips, wondering if they tasted like salt water. "how do you feel?" jj asked.

somehow, your grin grew even more. "amazing."

three;

the third time jj wanted to kiss you, it was unexpected.

it wasn't as much of a drastic realization as the other two times, but to jj, it was the most important one.

it was the moment jj knew he was in love with you.

the two of you were lounging on the couch. your feet were resting on the couch's arm, head thrown into jj's lap. one of his hands was running through your hair as the other rested on the back of the couch. you were distracted by the breakfast club playing on the tv, but jj was distracted by you.

the blonde had always found you beautiful, but this summer you were ethereal. your hair had gotten longer, bangs framing your face. your lashes were longer, and your eyes were so bright.

you must've noticed his staring, because you looked up and smiled that bright smile, before snuggling your face further into his thigh.

and boom, jj knew.

four;

the fourth time jj wanted to kiss you, you were flirting with someone else.

it was a kegger, the one the pogue's always threw before school started again, and you were flirting with some touron. he was tall, with dark black hair and green eyes and a lanky body. he wasn't ugly, per se, but he wasn't exactly cute either.

jj had been glaring at the two of you for the past ten minutes.

at some point, pope had sat down next to him, holding a red solo cup in his hand as he followed jj's line of sight. pope smirked, before nudging the blonde in the ribs with his elbow. "she looks comfy, doesn't she?"

the two of you were snuggling together on a log. the touron's arm was wrapped around your shoulder with you tucked into the side of his body.

jj grunted in response to pope's comment, tilting his cup forward and the rest of his beer tipped into his mouth. your pretty pink lips were pulled into a smile. the soft one reserved for jj. it was probably the alcohol running through his veins, but jj thought you looked so pretty.

jj was getting increasingly annoyed by the minute. he kept making eye contact with the boy next to you, sea green meeting ocean blue. the smug look on the boy's face made jj's blood boil. clearly, he could sense jj's jealousy.

the boy leaned forward, whispering something in your ear that jj couldn't make out. your eyebrows furrowed in response. your head turned toward the blonde. your head tilted in confusion at the angry expression on the blonde's face, before mouthing a small "you okay?".

jj's lips had twitched, before sending you a small smile, nodding.

he had drowned himself in his drink for the rest of the night after watching you leave with the touron.

five;

the fifth time jj resisted the urge to kiss you, you and the pogues were hiding from the smugglers.

jj had just pushed you out of the window of big john's office, grabbing you by the hand to drag you to the chicken coop. you were crying, fat tears falling down rosy cheeks. you were shoving yourself against the walls, jj sitting next to. kie and john b were on another wall and pope was on his own.

jj peeked through the cracks between the wood, watching as the smugglers carried big john's things into their truck, eyes shifting to the chicken coop every few seconds at the loud clucking from the rooster.

"do something, pope," jj had hissed. "shut that thing up."

"what do you want me to do?"

"pet it or something," you cried, fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt. "or talk to it, i don't know."

the sound of a trunk loudly slamming echoes through the bullpen, and your back hunches forward as you flinch. you let out a small squeak as jj leans forward and grabs at the animal's throat. you squeezed your eyes shut and turned away, avoiding the sight of jj snapping the rooster's neck.

jj's jaw clenched as he paused, leaning away. he slid an arm around your shoulder as you let out a sob. you tucked your face into his neck, sniffling. jj pressed a kiss to your hairline. not your lips, but close enough.

your nails were digging into one of his thighs, your other hand holding onto the arm wrapped around your neck.

it was weird timing for jj, wanting to kiss you after he had killed his favourite rooster. but at the time, he had wanted to comfort you, distract you from the paralyzing fear you were feeling.

+ one;

the first time jj actually kissed you, you were cleaning the blood off his face.

he had gotten in another fight with some pug-faced kook, and you were not happy with him. to be fair, the other guy had started it, (something jj had clarified multiple times). the guy had been making very loud comments about you, well, mainly your ass. in retaliation, jj had tossed a drink in his face. but the kook had thrown the first punch.

after john b practically yanked jj off of the kook, you had dragged the blonde into the upstairs bathroom.

now, he was leaning against the bathroom sink as you cleaned him up. there was a damp cloth in your hand and an emergency first-aid kit on the counter next to him. jj let out a hiss when you pressed against the cut on his lip.

"sorry," you mumbled, running the cloth under more warm water. despite the fact that you were clearly angry, jj couldn't help but smile at the adorable look on your face.

your eyebrows were furrowed, lips in a cute pout. your hair was pulled into one of those buns jj liked, and your free hand was twisted in his tank top. jj's hands were gripping onto your hips, squeezing a little when the pain got too much.

jj's blue eyes were tracing over your features as you grabbed an alcohol-free wipe. he smiled. "you mad at me?"

you glared at him in response. jj giggled and your lips twitched. jj never giggled.

you looked away from his piercing gaze, deciding to focus on the cut on his eyebrow instead. "you're an idiot," you suddenly stated, leaning away to look at him.

jj scoffed, "that guy was a dick."

"still," you shrugged. "didn't give you the right to beat the shit outta him."

jj sighed. you loved to be dramatic, didn't you?

"how can i make it up to you?"

you hummed before an idea seemed to pop into your head. you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a small kiss. jj's eyes popped out of his skull before he mentally slapped himself when he pulled away slightly.

he stared at you with wide eyes. your cheeks were tinted a soft pink, and your lips were a bit puffy.

"what was that for?" jj asked, to which you shrugged. you didn't respond to him, only choosing to lean forward to capture his lips with your own again.

you tasted like sugar.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank #outer banks #outerbanks #obx

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cobrakaisb · 7 months ago

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call me, beep me, if you want to reach me

summary: percy, annabeth, and grover have some great news about their quest, but something is off about their hypothesis

word count: 2.8k

featuring: reader and annabeth’s relationship, slightly steamy reader and luke scene, more percabeth crumbs, fluff and angst

author's note: IM BACKKKKK...this one took me forever, and i am so sorry about that! between finals, coming home from college, and just dealing with life in general it has been a real struggle BUT we are finally back on the luke train 🤩 and trust, these next few parts are about to get real...anyways, enjoy 💗

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

you run to the top of the hill, calling out to the three kids before they can cross the protective barrier surrounding camp half-blood.

“i just wanted to wish you guys good luck before you leave, although i’m sure you won’t need it,” you explain, walking up to the trio.

annabeth smiles at you. there’s an excited gleam in her eyes, and you remember how she’s been waiting for this for years -- her chance at glory.

“thanks,” percy mumbles, not really knowing what to say.

“i just…be safe okay?” you whisper, hands gripping tightly at annabeth’s shoulders while you look directly at her.

she nods, “i will. i promise.”

you nod in agreement, lips pursed in a tight line as you struggle to keep your emotions at bay. over the course of your years at camp, the bond between you and annabeth has grown exponentially. you love her like a little sister, one you’d do anything to protect. it scares you to think about her, a twelve year old kid, in the real world with no one looking out for her this time.

she senses your anguish, and pulls you into a tight hug. you freeze at first, not used to the affection from her, but ultimately wrap your arms around her small frame. the two of you stand there for a minute, embracing each other, but break apart when luke calls out to you from the bottom of the hill.

“it’s time to go,” he yells, and you imagine his pointed look and crossed arms. luke was just as worried as you, but he found it necessary to hide those feelings, claiming it was best for annabeth’s sake. you disagreed.

you nod, stepping away from the kids, back towards the chaos of camp, “i’ll see you at the solstice.”

you watch, with your stomach in knots from nerves and a mouth full of anxiety, as the kids step past thalia’s tree and into the world of monsters.

that was almost four days ago, and still no word from the trio. percy, annabeth, and grover were on their quest to find and return zeus’s master bolt, but the radio silence worries you. while you didn’t expect them to call every day to say good night — they needed to save their dracmas — you at least expected some type of update by now. the lack thereof leaves a nervous feeling in your stomach; something isn’t right, you know it, but you can’t quite determine what.

“those are called feelings sweetie,” katrina replies when you explain your current predicament to her.

you suck your teeth at her words, shoving her shoulder as you mumble, “shut up.”

“i’m being serious! since when do you care about three twelve year olds? no scratch that, since when do you care about anybody?” she shouts, throwing her hands up.

you look down at your converse, arms crossing over your bent knees as you sit and look at the rippling water. i care about luke, you think, and all those kids who will never experience a true family thanks to our parents. i care about you, and our friendship. i care about grover, who’s too kind for his own good. the list goes on and on, but you don’t say any of those names out loud.

instead you respond with, “i care about annabeth.”

katrina openly scoffs at your words, leaning back on her palms. “oh please, i’m talking about that little blonde.”

you sigh, looking at her over your shoulder. her short hair rustles in the breeze, and the unruly curls from spending the day in the water makes her possess a childlike innocence. if you didn’t know katrina, you’d think she was a sweet girl who’d chew you out for swearing, but you do know her; she’s anything but, and the constant taunting and teasing proves that.

“there’s something different about percy,” you explain with a shrug.

“yeah, it’s called your need to play mommy,” she mumbles.

“oh shut up,” you gripe, getting up from your spot on the dock. you make sure to kick her calf, not too hard, on your way back to hera’s cabin.

“harder,” luke commands, despite the sweat dripping down both of their faces.

percy groans, throwing his head back in frustration. they’ve been going at it for hours, practicing various techniques and maneuvers with wooden swords. while percy’s claiming was still new, and his slaying of the minotaur with no experience was still the talk of the camp, it was obvious to everyone that he needed to train. there’s an impending war coming, and the blonde boy has found himself right in the middle of it.

but he doesn’t even know what it is, you think, stepping into the dirt of the practice arena.

“give him a break, luke. he needs some hydration,” you exclaim, holding up two refillable water bottles.

they’re dripping in condensation, the ice from the pavilion already melting in the sweltering heat courtesy of long island summers. luke grumbles something under his breath, probably about how he doesn’t need a break, but takes the bottle from you with a squeeze of your hip. he stays close to your side as he drinks the water, and instead of giving him your attention, you’re busy looking over percy.

“there’s a cut on your forehead,” you say, pushing back some of his curls to get a better look.

“yeah, your boyfriend nicked me,” he replies, gesturing to luke with his chin.

“it was an accident! how many times do i have to tell you?” luke defends.

“a lot more. i’m great at holding grudges,” percy announces, and you roll your eyes.

“and that’s why you’re becoming friendly with annabeth?” you tease.

luke raises his eyebrows at your statement, looking over at the smaller boy, whose cheeks are suddenly a very dark shade of red.

“that’s different,” he grumbles, pouring the remaining water on his head.

“uh huh, right. whatever floats your boat i guess,” you reply, patting his cheek in a motherly fashion. percy swerves with an eye roll fit for a teenager.

“anyways, i’ll let you guys get back to it,” you announce, turning to face luke.

you kiss his cheek, and his palm splays across your waist. he gives it a gentle squeeze, a small sign of affection in a hasty moment. you smile at him, leaning into his chest to whisper, “go easy on him.”

“he’s training with the best swordsman in camp, he knows what to expect,” luke replies, cocky as ever, as you pat his sweaty chest three times before walking away.

the training arena is packed when you arrive, brimming with younger kids and blaring noisy chatter. they’re all clad in some sort of battle armor: shields, bronze chest plates, and celestial bronze swords. it takes a minute for them to notice your presence, but when they do they part like the red sea. most of them have the sense to keep quiet, watching you with nervous eyes and wary glances, fueled by the words of their older siblings no doubt. others, the more gutsy of the bunch, have the courage to whisper the exact words they heard from their siblings, warning their friends about you and your anger. you, however, are focused on finding the tallest head amongst the group; the one housing messy, onyx curls.

“he’s up front, helping jimmy with his armor,” a young girl whispers shyly, drawing designs in the dirt with the tip of her sword.

you stop walking, turning to face her. she’s young, no older than eight, and you feel the edges of your hard exterior soften from the sight of her pigtails and pink twinkle toes. you smile softly at her, hoping that it doesn’t scare her off.

“thank you,” you say, “i love your shoes.” she smiles at your words, giggling quietly to herself as a small blush coats her cheeks.

just as she goes to answer, luke appears at your side with, who you can only assume, is jimmy. you smile softly at him, ready to explain why you’re here in the first place, but luke beats you to it:

“let me just give them some instructions, then we can talk, okay?” he whispers, his free hand taking its place on the small of your back.

you hum in agreement, watching fondly as he takes charge of the large group of young demigods. he instructs them to practice the methods he just demonstrated in pairs, explaining that he’ll be walking around to give feedback once he’s done talking to you. as the kids partner up, he leads you to the side of the arena, where he finally meets your gaze with a raised brow.

“what?” you ask, crossing your arms at his confused stare.

“you never come here while i’m teaching lessons,” he answers.

“well, maybe i’m starting to,” you reply.

luke scoffs at your words, “no shot. what’s really going on?”

“i could be!”

“but you’re not. you hate their judgy, beady, little eyes. so, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours to make you seek me out while i’m in the middle of lessons?” he continues, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts.

you take a deep breath, meeting his chocolate brown eyes on the exhale, and state your concerns: “i’m worried. why haven’t we heard from them yet? it’s been days, and it’s not like annabeth to keep us completely in the dark.”

luke sighs at your words, “i’m sure they’re fine.”

you raise your eyebrows at his unexpected answer. this is luke, the same guy who refused to let you and annabeth out of his sight during capture the flag, talking? not a chance.

“so you’re not worried, at all?” you ask, searching for the true reason behind his lack of worry.

luke clenches his jaw at your words, looking away from you as he stares off into the distance. his eyebrows furrow, and you can see something flicker across his face. you don’t know what it is, but you know he’s battling something within himself.

“luke?” you ask softly, resting your hand on his bicep.

he shakes his head, a carefree smile taking over his face as he says, “it’s annabeth. she’s the smartest, most careful person i know. nothing’s wrong.”

you eye him warily, and nod your head slowly, “right. i guess i’m just overthinking.”

luke smiles, a teasing look in his eyes as he nudges your foot with his own. you look up at him, a breathy laugh escaping your lips as you meet his playful gaze.

“you always are,” he mumbles, followed by a loud laugh as you shove his shoulder.

he plants a quick kiss on your temple, hands rubbing up and down your sides before whispering, “i’ll stop by your cabin tonight. once they’re all tucked in.”

you hum in agreement, watching as he departs from your side and heads to the closest duo to provide feedback.

****

the door creaks open, and luke slips inside before the harpies register the noise. you’re already awake, patiently waiting for him on the singular cot in the cabin. the eternal flames of the fire pit burn brightly, leaving dangerous shadows on your face, illuminating the storm brewing inside.

“you’re late,” you quip, not even bothering to look up from your book.

you’re laying on your stomach, propped up on your forearms with a paperback book in your hands. you’re in your usual sleep attire, shorts and a tank top, and luke has to physically hold back a groan. he’s never wanted you so badly in his life, but instead of expressing that desire, he apologizes for his actions.

“some of the younger campers were arguing, you know i had to settle that,” he whispers, burying his face between your neck and left shoulder.

luke kisses your bare skin, slightly warmed from all the sun you’ve been getting recently. your head tilts, giving him access to more skin, and he doesn’t deny that. his lips move to your neck, leaving more than a few marks.

“careful. hera’s watching,” you tease, closing the cover of your book.

“let her,” he mumbles, practically moaning when you thread your fingers through his hair.

“oh you’d love that,” you taunt, tugging on his curls.

luke’s right arm wraps around your waist, flipping you onto your back, while his left pushes your book to the floor. your mouth falls open in shock, and you gasp quietly. he smirks at your expression, feeling satisfied to have you speechless. before you can ruin the moment, he captures your mouth with his.

the kiss is rough, all tongue and teeth. his left hand settles next to your head, while his right tugs your hips closer to his. your fingers are still lodged into his curls, and you use them to keep his face pressed against yours. he pulls back, gasping for air, but keeps his forehead planted against your skin. before he can reconnect your lips, you’re kissing all over his face.

“missed you,” you murmur in between kisses.

luke sighs, relaxing into your arms as the tension from camp counselor duties and other activities leaves his body. he knows eventually he’s going to have to tell you. he thinks it will be something like ripping off a band aid. but, for now, when he has you so eagerly in his arms, and he’s content with baring the brunt of the burden. besides, the kids aren’t even close to figuring out the truth, he’s sure of it.

****

“we know who stole the bolt,” percy announces, nothing but confidence in his voice.

luke falters, but only for a second, before asking, “how do you know?”

immediately, annabeth starts rambling. she mentions an encounter with ares, how he knows who the thief is, but was clearly covering for them. as she talks, luke realize that their suspicions are anything but correct, in fact, they’re so far into leftfield it’d be considered a homerun. yet, he runs with it, not willing to give himself up.

“so who would ares cover for?” annabeth finishes, waiting for luke to answer.

“his favorite daughter. clarisse is the lightning thief,” he answers, making sure to sound shocked by their groundbreaking discovery.

“chrion’s got to arrest her, find out what she knows. there’s more to this than just the bolt, something bigger,” percy explains.

luke and annabeth share a look of uncertainty, one that percy picks up on because he quickly adds, “don't ask me how i know, you’ve just got to trust me.”

as luke is about to assure the kids that he’ll get to it straight away, you walk into the office.

“talking to yourself again, castellan? i knew you were crazy but not this off the rocker,” you tease, stepping closer to his side.

as you approach, you see the faces of annabeth and percy in the mist. you smile at the sight of them. while they look tired, they seem pretty intact and much better off than you expected.

“how’s your quest going?” you ask, hoping to hear some positive news.

“not too bad. between ares, the chimera and medusa, i’d say we’re doing pretty good,” percy exclaims.

your eyes widen at his words, and you look to luke to see what his reaction is, but he’s not even looking at you. instead he’s watching the two demigods arguing about which monster occurred each day. he smirks at the sight of them, gently bumping his hip with yours before saying, “what is this?”

“what?” annabeth answers, confusion written all over her face.

“since when did you guys turn into an old married couple?” luke continues to tease, and you smile at the kids’ shocked faces. percy blushes at luke’s comment, and annabeth makes a point to avoid your gaze.

“not to change the subject, but we need your advice luke. we’re going to vegas and…” before percy can say another word, the iris message cuts out, the connective screen dissipating along with the rainbow that brought it here.

“well that was entertaining,” you joke, turning to face your boyfriend.

you expect him to laugh at your words, but his face is set into a hard line. his arms are crossed and jaw clenched as he stares at the spot where annabeth and percy’s faces were previously occupying. his thoughts are clearly running a mile a minute, and you step into his line of sight, calling out to him.

“they think they know who the lightning thief is,” he grumbles, gaze still distant and cold.

“what? who?” you ask, stepping closer to him. while it’s only the two of you in the room, you don’t want to risk anyone else hearing; this isn’t the sort of thing that should be spread around camp, even if you hate the majority of the people here.

“clarisse,” he starts, “but they’re wrong.”

“how do you know?” you ask, nothing but confusion plastered all over your face.

“because it’s actually me,” luke replies, finally meeting your gaze.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles @dracoslovergirl @vanessa-rafesgirl @l1a-pjosversion

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan series #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan angst #luke castellan pjo #pjo luke #all american bitch series #cobrakaisb writing

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eddiesxangel · 11 months ago

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Me and You? Together? | Eddie Munson x Best friend Reader

Eddie Munson + You = BFFLS that’s all you’ll ever be… unless?

Cw: Angst? Small fluff, Queer!Eddie, reader uses she/her pronouns, open ending? One mention of the upside down (ikr who am I?)

wc:1.7k

I think the story needs more pages, yes I've been in love with her for ages 🎶

"Oh, you two are just the cutest couple in here." the older waitress with the retro yellow diner dress and apron with a name tag that read Judy, fawned over you and Eddie. However, you were quick to correct her.

"Oh no, no, just best friends," you lightheartedly giggle.

This stung Eddie. Friends. Best Friends. Two decades worth of friendship, and it haunts Eddie. That is all you'll ever be... Best Friends.

Not once had you shown an ounce of interest in being anything more, but Eddie, on the other hand, fell in love with you in stages throughout his life.

When you were three years old, you moved to the trailer park where Eddie and his family lived. Being the only two kids, you were immediately drawn to one another. Eddie remembers that summer, the scorching summer sun beat down mercilessly on the trailer park as you both ran around in your underwear, laughing and shrieking, under the cool spray of the garden hose.

When you were both five, you had a "wedding" and promised one another vows. Eddie always remembered his promise to be your best friend and to always be your best friend. He told you he loved you, and you told him you loved him and sealed it with a small kiss and a slew of giggles. Your parents gushed about how adorable it was and how they couldn't wait for the real thing. Too bad Eddie's parents never would make it to the real thing.

As you both got a little older, around ten years old, you huddled together in your sleeping bags, whispering secrets and sharing stories that only best friends could tell. The sound of your laughter would fill the air, mingling with the chirping of the crickets and the rustling of the leaves. Your makeshift tent made out of bed sheets and sticks would only last so long as a barrier before you got scared of bats and earwigs, but Eddie promised to never let anything hurt you. He held your hand until you fell asleep.

When you and Eddie were twelve, and he struggled with his parents, you lent him your unwavering support and helped him weather the storm. You were his rock, his confidant, his best friend.

Eddie's world had begun to feel unfamiliar and uncertain during that period. Puberty had started to alter his body and yours, for that matter. Eddie saw the changes happening within you and within himself... He noticed how you got more attention from boys as your chest started blossoming and how he also longed for that attention. An ugly feeling would bloom in Eddie's gut and he hated it when the boys would stare at you or talk to you.

But you would never stray too far. Even with your first boyfriend, Eddie didn't understand why he hated the guy so much. He was a nice boy and never picked on Eddie like the others, but for the life of him, Eddie hated his guts. Especially when he would watch him hold your hand or kiss you on the cheek. He wanted that with you, but he also wanted to be you? He was so confused. He, too, wanted to hold your boyfriend’s hand and have him kiss him on the cheek, and that scared him.

Both your emotions lead to changes in the dynamics of your friendship, such as sleepovers. Previously, a fun and carefree activity had become different since it was now mandatory to sleep in separate rooms, a rule both your parents and Eddie's Uncle Wayne agreed upon. Yet, through the difficult times of teenage angst, you both powered through and came out stronger than ever.

When all the shit happened with the upsidedown a little over two years ago, you were at his bedside every day until the visiting hours were over, and the hospital had to physically kick you out; you would be back the second they started up again the next day. That was the last straw for Eddie. He could no longer deny his feelings for you anymore. He was in love with his best friend.

"Oh well, that's too bad; if you ever change your mind, invite me to the wedding, okay?" She smiles and takes your orders to the kitchen.

When the waitress left, Eddie saw his window of opportunity.

"Hey, uh, what if I took you out?" Eddie fiddles with the paper straw wrapper.

"We are out, Stupid." You laugh.

"No, no, I mean, can I take you for a drink?" Eddie was never this anxious around you, and you noticed. Like something in the air had shifted.

"Like a drink?" you raise your brows.

"Uh... yeah." You had never seen Eddie so nervous with you before. Where was this coming from?

"Oh God, I'll have to think... We're friends, Eddie, I don't know? It-it doesn't feel right." This had caught you so off guard.

"It's cool... no, yeah,- I-I was just messin'," he waves off, and your heart alleviates.

"God Eddie! You really had me there." you laugh and Eddie's heart sinks, and you can see him slouch back into the booth. His body language completely shifted.

Fuck, how he hated this; you were the only one who ever made him feel right. You were it for him.

No matter how hard he tried, his mind would always wander back to the same vision of a future with you. He saw the two of you building a beautiful life together in his dreams. He imagined the joy of raising children with you, cooking together in the kitchen, and sharing parenting responsibilities. He could picture himself changing their diapers while you watched with a warm smile.

Visions of you going to the Winter Fair, which was not the most exciting event; he envisioned you, him and your hypothetical child going there every year, enjoying the festivities and watching the colourful lights glow in your eyes. These thoughts filled him with happiness, and he couldn't wait for them to become a reality.

Unfortunately, you have shot down any possibility of being more than friends with Eddie, not to hurt him but because you only see him as a friend. Never once had it ever crossed your mind to see Eddie as anything more. Honestly, you questioned his sexuality over the years.

One memory, in particular, flashed in your brain as you pondered on the possibility of Eddie being serious or just taking the piss?

"Eddie, what are you doing?" You walked into your bedroom to see Eddie standing in the middle of your room, facing your full-length mirror.

"Oh, me? I liked your dress and wanted to see what it would look like on me? Kinda badass, no? Some may even say... metal?"

You can't help but laugh.

“Ed’s, you can’t even do it up; you’re going to rip it!”

“You’re being a hater… Imagine! Me on stage shredding to Ozzy in this?" He gestures to your floral church dress, which he’s paired with his black Converse all-stars. He’s always been flamboyant.

You can't help but roll your eyes. Your mom just bought you this dress.

“What, Sunshine?” He smirks.

“Ed’s, are you?-Is there something you want to tell me?” You bite your lip, not wanting him to freak out.

“You know me, sunshine! I’m just me,” he twirled and showed off his boxers.

“Okay, but if you ever wanna tell me anything, I’ll be here for you.”

“I know.” He smiled.

Sometimes, you wondered about Eddie... He never fully came out to you, and you never pressured him to do so because you loved him regardless. You wouldn’t ever have a chance with him; he’s your platonic soul mate. Sure, he’s handsome if you like that bad boy-leather-metalhead thing, but who’s to say you were even his type? You were a girl.

When Eddie asked you out just now, you had no idea how to take it? He’s him, and you are you… you’ve been attached at the hip forever, but never did you think you’d cross the threshold? Did he want to cross it? Did you want to cross it?

He was so nervous as he asked you. His hands wouldn’t stop fiddling, and he fumbled his words. His breath got all gaspy, like when he was trying to brush off something that bothered him. Maybe he was being serious?

“Ed’s?”

“Yea?” You saw a glimmer of hope behind his eyes.

“Don’t you like… boys? I’ve never seen you-“

“It’s okay- lots of people think I’m gay, but it’s cool, right? We’re friends! Why would it not be?”

“No, no, of course, but you’ve-you’ve never been with a girl or at least that I know of? So I never thought… Really? Me and you? Together?”

“No, you wouldn’t have thought.” He bit back bitterly. “I know, I’m queer; you know I’ve always been different.”

“Ed’s, I’m sorry I just- I never thought of you like that because I’m a girl…”

“Ask me, Sunshine.”

“Ask you what?”

“You know.”

“Do you like girls?” You spit out.

“No, sunshine, I like you.”

“But you-"

“I know how I am!” He raised his voice. He never raised his voice. Not at you. “I don’t like conformity and social norms, and sure, I like men, and sure, I like to dress up in your clothes and like to put on your makeup, but fuck, I especially like it because that stuff belongs to you, I do it because I love you.” There he said it, finally he felt like the 100lb weight had been lifted off of his chest.

“Ed’s-“

“No! I love you, and I do it because I like it and to be close to you because you’re my whole world, sunshine, and if I can’t have you, I don’t know what I will do.” He reached out for your hand across the table, and you let him take it. Your fingers intertwine.

It was quiet for a moment. You needed to process. Things between you won’t be the same after this.

“Talk to me, Sunshine?”

“I just never thought this was an option between us, Eddie. I need time.

“I’ll wait for you; I’ve waited this long.”

You only stay in silence for a moment before Judy comes back around.

“Okay, kiddos, 2 burgers and fries, enjoy.” The waitress smiles and places your meal in front of you.

“Excuse me, Judy?” you call out.

“Yes, darling?” She turns back with a smile

“Can we see the drink menu?” You chide

“Coming right up”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x best friend reader #queer!eddie munson #queer!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson concept #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #Spotify

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helenofsparta2 · 4 months ago

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Headcannon: Percy is immensely popular among nature spirits and "minor" gods

Oceanids & Nereids

It starts small.

The Nereids and Oceanids are naturally curious about him when they find out about his existence, that’s already canon:

She (a nereid) nodded. “It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest.”

Suddenly, I remembered faces in the waves of Montauk Beach when I was a little boy, reflections of smiling women. (The Lightning Thief, chapter 17)

Later, at the latest by the time Titan’s curse happens, nereids and oceanids see him save ocean creatures from fishing gear, or whales stranded on beaches, or him helping mermaids with hanging nails. (Titan’s curse, chapter 7) We see him be considerate and respectful to nereids through his interaction in the fourth book at the ranch.

She looked like she was ready for a fight. Her fists were balled, but I thought I heard a little quaver in her voice. Suddenly, I realized that, despite her angry attitude, she was afraid of me. She probably thought I was going to fight her for control of the river , and she was worried, she would lose.

The thought made me sad. I felt like a bully, a son of Poseidon throwing his weight around.

I sat down on a tree stump. “Okay, you win.”

The naiad looked surprised. (The Battle of the Labyrinth, chapter 9)

It’s pretty good established in the books, that smaller gods and spirits don’t get treated with respect most of the time, especially not from heroes of old like Herakles and the Olympian gods. The reaction of the naiad adds to this sentiment, so we can pretty easily conclude that the way Percy treats them, is relatively rare.

In-between the books, Rick often sprinkles in some interactions between Percy and naiads, which further underlines their positive opinion of him:

I looked over the edge of the boat and found a couple of naiads staring at me. They looked like regular teenage girls, the kind you’d see in any mall, except for the fact that they were underwater.

Hey, I said. They made a bubbling sound that may have been giggling. I wasn’t sure. I had a hard time understanding naiads.

We’re heading upstream, I told them. Do you think you could-

Before I could even finish, the naiads each chose a canoe and began pushing us up the river. (Titan’s curse, Chapter 14)

Satyrs & Dryads:

The satyrs know that he, Clarisse, Annabeth, Tyson and Grover were the ones, who returned the golden fleece to camp half-blood and so, have stopped satyrs from getting killed by Polyphemus. During the battle of the labyrinth, Percy is the one who extinguished the fire and stopped the trees and dryads from getting burnt to death. Not to mention that he is best friends with the guy, who discovered Pan and has the title of Lord of the Wild.

“Minor” Gods:

The non-Olympian gods, like Hecate, Nemesis, Eros, Hebe and Morpheus were probably curious about him, even wary, but nothing more at first, until Percy managed to stop the civil war between Zeus and Poseidon at the age of twelve.

We know that canonically, this already earned him the respect of many different beings:

As I walked back through the city of the gods, conversations stopped. The muses paused their concert. People, and satyrs and naiads all turned towards me, their faces filled with respect and gratitude, and as I passed, they knelt, as if I were some kind of hero.” (The Lightning Thief, chapter 21)

By the time the war with Kronos further escalates and they join his side, this obviously changes again. From this moment on, Percy is their enemy, and probably nothing more for most of them.

But then, they lose, and probably expect the worst of consequences.

Gods who have crossed Zeus have suffered severe punishments before. Prometheus was bound to a rock, with an eagle eating his liver every day because he stole fire from the gods, gifted it to humanity and tricked Zeus, the titans were banished to Tartarus after the Titanomachy. After some of the gods rebelled and tried to overthrow Zeus, Hera got hung in the sky with golden chains, where she cried out all night in pain, while Apollo and Poseidon were forced to work as labourers for King Laomedon of Troy.

They probably expected to get thrown into Tartarus with the rest of the Titans, get stripped of their immortality, or worse. Instead, however, their children finally receive cabins at camp half-blood and they themselves receive full amnesty.

All because Percy Jackson, this 16-year-old teenager, decides to change the entire thousand year old status quo on Olympus.

He could have wished for anything after their victory over Kronos and the titan army. The choice was not between the oath he made the gods swear and him becoming a god. He could have wished to be left alone, or to never have to do a quest again, or live a happy, and peaceful life away from the pain and wars until the end of his days, or literally anything else, but he didn’t. He made the active choice to make Olympus fairer, and to create equality among the demigods, without even thinking about it for too long.

No one can convince me that this, and his already mentioned other actions, didn’t earn him the respect of huge parts of the mythological world.

Not even Rick himself (no matter how much he may try in his new books)

#heroes of olympus #percy jackson #rick riordan #pjo hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #pjo headcanon

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teatreeoilll · 1 year ago

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|| Crush (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

Short one shot, in which Gojo finds out reader has a crush on him. TW: mentions of Alcohol and smoking

"I mean, if you had to choose one of them?" Your hands slipped further on the table, your palm grazing the wood while you fixed your gaze on Shoko's uninterested eyes.

"No," She said calmly.

"But if you really, really had to?" Her eyes darted across the room, her mind in dire need of a change in conversation topic.

"If I really - really, had to," She sighs, "I guess I'd pick Satoru."

Your heart dropped at the mention of his name. I knew it!

"But really," She continued, "I think he makes a horrible team with anyone, it doesn't matter how strong you are if you can't do that, y'know? But those six-eyes are no joke, so if I had to, I guess -" Your confused expression stopped her from talking further.

"Shoko, I meant if you had to pick one to - uh, you know, "

All the confidence you mustered to bring up the topic in the first place had vanished, you slid back into the chair, watching Shoko's face shrink with disgust. "No."

The drink before you emptied quickly as silence took over the room, each time you wanted to say something you felt your throat tense as the drunk haze had begun to clear. Perhaps it really was a bad idea to talk about this.

"I have a feeling this isn't really about me, is it?" She reached to open another canned sake. "I would like to say that you can tell me anything, but I have a feeling I wouldn't want to hear this," She took a long sip, "But I'll play along. Who'd you choose?" She was far too familiar with your mannerisms, knowing you would never admit to it any other way.

For a few months now, she had been brushing off her suspicions as misinterpretations.

"I - I would, hm, maybe, Satoru?" Regret settled deeper in your throat, but you knew it was too late to make up some excuse to leave this conversation. "It's not like I'd do anything about it, you know?" Shoko's eyes widened as you spoke, she tried to utter a few protest words, her hands are signaling you to stop talking.

You felt your face turn red, "I mean, It's just a crush, nothing to be too flustered about, right? What do those last, like a few months at most? Just don't look at those beautiful blue eyes, and that snowy white hair… It'll go away on its own!" Aware that it's too late, Shoko had buried her face in her palms. That's it, the thought passed through your brain, She will never respect me again.

"It really is nothing to be flustered about. Quite understandable - really." A familiar voice came from behind, you could hear the grin in his tone. You desperately stared at Shoko, your eyes begging her to say anything - anything to rescue you from the embarrassment.

Shoko cleared her throat, "It is, very understandable! That you have a crush on this guy, who doesn't even attend Jujutsu High!" Ah, it could have been such a good save.

"Oh yes!" Gojo laughed, kneeling next to your chair with his hand placed firmly on your shoulder, "Such a shame, but it's not like you have to see his beautiful blue eyes and snowy white hair every day," He failed to hold back his laugh, "I'm sure it'll go away on its own."

You focused your eyes on the table - Twelve cans of sake, only seven open. Gojo's hand on your shoulder. Oh god. Ashtray, still smoking. Salty chip packets - 2,3 … no 4, one has fallen off the table. Gojo's hand makes its way to your lower back. How's Kyoto this time of year?

"There's nothing to be shy about." His whisper catches you off guard, his face so close to yours you were sure he could smell the alcohol coming off of each of your heavy breaths. You find the strength to stand up, your chair screeching on the floor. Gojo almost lost his balance.

"It's getting late, Shoko, thank you for the - actually, let's never drink again. I'll see you tomorrow."

You walked the dark corridor, unable to focus on anything other keeping yourself balanced after so many drinks, keeping the thoughts on solving your predicament for a more sober time.

A hand brushed your wrist before gripping it tightly and pulling you in its direction. Even in the dark, you could see the blue of his eyes.

"Listen, I really meant what I said." You uttered, watching his smirk widen. "No smart comebacks now!" You felt your chest heat up, the shame had turned to anger. People have feelings, why does it have to be a joke? His hand loosened its grip on yours.

"We're not children anymore Satoru, It's a crush. It'll be gone just as fast as it came. You don't have to joke about it, just forget it."

Never in his life had he let you finish so many sentences without a snarky remark. You tried to read his face, but the shadows covered his expression.

"Say it again." You felt his body come closer to yours, his lips almost touching yours, you didn't notice yourself stumbling backward until the wood boards on the nearest wall had pressed to your back.

"Say what again?"

"Say you have a crush on me," His voice lower than usual.

Fine, if it's going to be a joke, I guess it's better to go with it. "I have a crush on you, Satoru Gojo." As you tried to rid yourself of your compromising position his hand grabbed the back of your neck, entangling itself in your hair. Tension forms at the pit of your stomach.

"I have the biggest crush on you, Sa-" you mustered the huskiest voice you could find, but he wouldn't let you finish, his tongue already trying to find its place in your mouth.

He freed his hand from your hair just to grab your legs, lifting them up to wrap around him, his fingers digging deep into your thighs. He pauses to catch a breath, his face resting in the crook of your neck, just to huff a few words;

"Well, aren't I lucky?"

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo X reader #gojo X you #gojo X y/n #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk gojo #gojo satoru X reader #satoru x reader

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qiupachups · 1 year ago

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miles.g / wiles

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 👾💭

contents: general hcs, mention of his father’s death, i call 42-miles ‘wiles’, me sorta bullying him

a/n: after a lot of procrastination and harassment gentle encouragement from @vhstown i’m finally posting my hcs. :3c (they’ve been sitting here since july)

Despite his tough guy exterior and criminal career, he's actually a massive nerd geek. Like: gundham, comics, posters all over his room.

Until you bring up those interests, he won't mention them. But once you start a conversation about them, he can tell you all the lore front to back or tell you where and when each collectible is from. Just listening to Wiles and nodding along will make his day.

Accepting help from others is not an option. Ever. He's an overly D.I.Y guy since his father's death and it's staying that way.

... unless you're very close to him. Wiles will begrudgingly accept your help and then be adamant on repaying you. No matter how trivial it was, he'll show his gratitude through service.

Wiles has great memory and knows all the lyrics to his favourite songs. Go through his playlist and pick something at random- he'll recite them flawlessly!

A good memory also helps with remembering those flashes of songs playing on your lock screen. Just a split second glance? He's adding it to his playlist, maybe listening to it as he works on his latest gear.

Would be a straight A student if he were there half the time. The only thing keeping his total grades down is attendance, where he’s often absent.

However, if he’s in a group project with you, Wiles will put more effort into it. Getting a ‘C’ or GPA point lower is fine if it means keeping Brooklyn safer. What’s not fine is him being the reason for your lower marks.

Unlike his counterpart from 1610, Wiles’ art is more realistic. He tries to capture the subjects’ essence quickly and minimally, so colours are an afterthought.

Accuracy was his pride in art until it came to you. He’d be so nervous in getting your smile right, scribbling failed attempts over and over again. Wiles even resorted to a pencil sketch.

Following the passing of Jefferson, Wiles has gotten much closer to Rio. That’s a no brainer; he was fourteen— a kid. And Jefferson never got to see his son in that overpriced Visions uniform.

Wiles makes an effort to speak more Spanish. He lets his mamí braid his hair even if it hurts like hell. Those stupid telenovelas aren’t that bad on the second watch.

Once upon a time, Wiles used to be a choir boy (keyword: used). He’d love singing hymns and doing nativities before he could read; all for his mamí and dad to see.

However, the christmas after Jefferson’s passing felt… empty. Wiles quickly lost his passion for choir and now just attends mass with Rio at most.

After years of experience being a choir boy, Wiles has the voice of an angel. Not that you’d know, of course— he intends to take that to the grave. But there’s also a deeper, darker secret… he can’t rap to save his life.

An extremely personal and harrowing Musically comment told him so. Following that attack, twelve year old Wiles abandoned his account with only a black profile picture left behind.

Like any other middle schooler, Wiles had a hype beast phase (he denies it). When Aaron got a Hype shirt for Wiles’ 12th birthday, words couldn’t describe how he almost knocked Aaron down with a hug.

The shirt’s first stain had Wiles distraught and furiously searching ‘remove paint on shirt hacks’ on Youtube. His heart would probably stop if he misplaced a gift from you.

Wiles isn’t the best cook, but he can definitely make himself a good meal. With Rio working night shifts and Uncle Aaron doing… jobs, he has to be self-sufficient.

A secret lil’ side project: he’s trying and failing to replicate Jefferson’s mac ‘n cheese. It wasn’t the best, but it was his. Something’s always off when Wiles makes it and he’s not quite sure what.

Sure, cooking isn’t that hard, but baking is like wizardry to Wiles. AP Chemistry and it’s endless calculations felt way easier than making pan de agua with his mamí.

But, mamí didn’t raise no quitter! On a particularly busy birthday, Wiles pulled together a modest little cake for Rio. She burst into tears seeing the shaky ‘!Feliz Cumple!’ written in too-sweet icing.

Calling Earth-42 a wreck is a massive understatement. Shit’s like Gotham, only very real and very deadly. Just breathing in that damn city air makes Wiles’ skin crawl.

Luckily, he’s got an outlet: boxing. A fun hobby he picked up from Uncle Aaron became his release. Wiles might never be in the ring, but Brooklyn’s more than enough.

a/n #2: what the fuck. this was supposed to be short and silly and fun. exsqueeze me how did this… erm. disjointed mess.

#miles g morales x reader #miles g x reader #prowler miles x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv headcanons #atsv miles #atsv x you #atsv fanfiction #chewy writes ♪

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too-deviant · 10 months ago

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Hii would you take a request for Luke x Athena!reader? Like an au where Luke isn't the one who turned and in the battle of Manhattan it's them and percabeth leading the camp in battle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Athena!Reader

Summary: Percy thinks there's just about nothing that can pull you and Luke apart.

Notes: sorrry this took so long i had w block for a little bit. hope this is okay!!! also not proofread so lmk if there's any grammar mistakes lolss

Since he found out he was a demigod, Percy Jackson only ever had three things remain consistent in his fucked up life:

(1) His imminent doom.

(2) His mom’s undying support.

(3) Luke Castellan’s wandering eyes.

Even now, as he fights for his life against Kronos’ Army ten feet away from the Empire State Building. Whenever he gets the chance, Percy scans his eyes over their side of the fight. Making sure everyone is okay, aiding where he was needed. And every time, without fail, Luke was doing the same thing — only his eyes zeroed in one one warrior in particular. You.

It was a tether, Percy realised, but not just for Luke. Whenever things got particularly tough — whenever he found himself thinking about how much had changed and how much would change after this, he would hear you laugh and he would know you were laughing at Luke. Or he would glance over at where you sat, the son of Hermes never too far away. It would remind him of his first day at camp, when he was young and unaware, being given the immersive tour by the kind older counsellor he’d met ten minutes earlier, and watching as he looked back at the same group of campers whenever he got the chance. Until Percy, curious as he is, finally asked the question.

“Who is that?”

Luke had grinned like he was waiting for someone to segue the conversation to you, and began his spiel about the best demigod the Athena Cabin had ever seen. An exaggeration, Percy knew, since he’d seen the other Athena kids and their skill. And he’d been unnerved enough by Annabeth’s staring the whole day to know they each had their own stories.

But Luke didn’t seem to be thinking about the other Athena kids at that moment. His brown eyes shone as he watched you, a smile so soft it made Percy screw his face up a bit. Just say she’s your girlfriend, man, no need to start reciting poetry.

It was a classic case of the teenage honeymoon phase. Even though he was twelve, Percy knew the deal. He’d watched Glee.

But where the honeymoon phase is supposed to end, yours remained. Apparently it wasn’t a phase at all, and you guys really were just sickly in love. It was horrible, but it also helped Percy stay sane as the world shifted around him with every passing moment.

Like earlier, when they were laying out the plans just after Kronos had put Manhattan to sleep. It seemed like aeons ago he was standing in the quiet, zoned in on nothing in particular, flinching at the hand that brushed his shoulder. It was you, Luke not far behind like he always had been.

“You okay?”

He shrugged, “I dunno.”

Luke snorted, patting him on his other shoulder, “You’ll be good, man.”

“Really?” He scoffed a laugh, “I’m fifteen, leading an army isn't my job. If anything, you guys should be the ones in charge.”

“Callin’ us old, sucker?” You joked, pinching him. He hissed and you laughed. Almost automatically, Percy’s eyes went to Luke, who was looking at you with a soft smile like he always did whenever you laughed. He’d once told Percy, last year before he set out to go into the Labyrinth, that he could recognise your laugh from a mile away.

“I don’t know what we're gonna do.” He frowned.

“Good thing our girls are Athena kids then, huh?” Luke quipped. Percy’s face dusted red at the insinuation, but the embarrassment was enough to knock him out of his stupor. Luke patted him again, “We’ve got this. And if we don’t, at least we’re going out with a bang, right?”

“Right.” Annabeth sidled up to them. “So are you guys done chatting or are we gonna wait a little longer, give Kronos a head start?”

“Nah, we’re going.” Luke straightened himself, looking each of them in the eye, “Ready?”

They shared some smiles, You and Annabeth did some weird sibling handshake that was way too complicated, then Luke was putting his hand in the centre of them all and waiting for three other hands to join it. “For Olympus?”

“No.” Percy interrupted. He thought about the kids that were ready to fight with their lives, the ones who had already given theirs. He thought about Annabeth and her plans for the future. He thought about you and Luke, and how extravagant your wedding could be with Annabeth as the planner and the Stolls as the ring bearers (an actual conversation he’d overheard the two of you having once), and he thought about how they all deserved peace after the hellish three years they had gone through ever since Zeus’ lightning bolt was stolen, and grinned, “For the demigods.”

“For the demigods!”

He thinks back on that conversation during the meeting with the Olympians after the battle was done. When Athena is thanking you, when Hermes steps up and thanks you too. And when Zeus says, “All rise for Percy Jackson, Hero of Olympus.” He hesitates, holds out a hand and corrects him. The next time the god speaks, it is with your name, Luke’s and Annabeth’s. Percy would have asked him to name everyone who had helped out, but they’d be there all day.

When all was said and done, he turned around and said, “They coulda told us all that in an email.”

They laughed. You laughed, and when Percy glanced over, Luke was smiling at you.

#@lia’s works #luke castellan #percy jackson #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo

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stardancerluv · 8 months ago

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When the Predator Becomes the Prey

Part One of ?

Notes/Warning: 18+ consensual act of implied sex, language, sexy fantasy, drinking, mentions of a possible kidnapping, mentions of pregnancy, sexist, domineering

I wanted to explore more of the Frank character. I gave him a real name. Yes, they say Adam in the film but I want that to be his deep cover name. So “reader” calls him Nick, Nicky. Also I plan on using alot of flashbacks..to flesh him out.

He is horrible, rotten person…but well..in the tradition of Roman Sionis…and more recently Gator Tillman (though he 🫣😬 not as bad as these Roman & Frank!). Here is a short take on “Frank” you could say its AU…so please don’t come after me.

Comments, ❤️, reblogs and any feedback is welcome!!!

The amber liquid sloshed in his glass. He twisted the cap back onto the bottle and took a swig. A bitterness filled him, he had been a well respected detective.

It had not taken long for him to discover the darker sides of his nature. It was very easy for him enter the world of the criminal.

“Can’t sleep?“ He felt as your arms wrapped around him. It did help somewhat.

He made an incoherent sound of agreement.

“You don’t have to take the job.”

The silence grew heavy before he took another swig. He glanced at you over his shoulder.

“I have to. If we want to disappear for good.”

You nodded.

He chewed his bottom lip.

“You’re still a good man.”

“A man who is about to become a fucking father who may or may not be weighing the options of kidnapping of some fucking twelve year old.”

“It was a good man who faced with unbelievable horror took me with him?”

He chuckled.

“It’s because you’re a cute piece of ass.”

You smacked him.

Placing the glass down, he shifted turning to you. In the muted, neon light that bled through the curtains; he could still make out your beauty. He remembered the first time he laid his eyes on you.

******

Glasses clinked, peels of laughter genuine and fake filled the air as men, women dark and brooding planned deeds that were unsavory. He was deep undercover. He relished the freedom it gave him. He had always been the law. Now he was above it. He was in the big leagues now.

Surveying the crowd, the ones he was meeting were not there. Taking a table in a corner, he would able to watch everything. He fiddled with his phone.

“Hello there handsome, is there anything I can get you?” A sweet voice, he didn’t recognize asked.

Glancing up, he saw your legs first. You had a curves he liked. The rest of you, damn. He bit the inside of his cheek. You had fresh face. Not worn or plastered like the other girls.

“Give me a twirl baby?” He pocketed his phone.

“I’m not for sale.” The smile left your eyes.

“Am I trying to buy you? No. Now give me a twirl.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.” The skirt flared just a bit and he liked even more what he saw.

He nodded. “Very nice.” He leaned forward, the soft scent of your perfume was pleasing like the rest of you. His lips curled into a smirk. Look, I got some important guys coming in. Wanna be the girl for our table tonight, and I’ll treat you right?”

You put a hand on your hip. He wanted it to be his, give you a squeeze. See the sounds you’d like. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

Your nervous glance around was endearing. Most of the girls would have been fuck the rules and happily accept his proposition.

“Go tell your boss, Adam is asking for you.” He sat back and smirked.

“Oh, alright.” You fluttered off.

Damn he wanted you already bouncing in his lap or kneeling between his legs. He didn’t want to wait.

******

“Are you getting sentimental, Nicky or are you committing my face to memory?”

He chuckled being brought back to the bedroom, the two of you shared. That night was a lifetime ago.

You had laid back down, the memory made him want you and now. He easily moved so he was between your legs.

He saw some hesitation flicker in your eyes.

“What? You don’t want me anymore since I knocked you up?”

You shook your head. “Just worried.

“Did the doctor say anything?” He blinked.

“No, he said it might actually be good for me.”

He smirked. “Then why are you worried.” He palmed himself.

“Because you’re rough.”

“I won’t be.”

He braced himself and leaned in close. His nose nuzzled your cheek. Your soft scent from you showering, lingered. You were good enough to eat.

“Don’t worry about that baby. I want to see the fruits of my seed.”

Your hand came up and caressed his cheek.

“Then, I’m all yours.”

“I knew you couldn’t say no.”

Her legs deliciously opened further for him. Easily, he took himself out of his sweats. He slid his tip between the petal softness of her folds.

“You want me just as badly.”

“Look at you. How could I not?”

“Well, here I come baby?”

********

He glanced around as he sat in the coffee shop. Lambert had yet to arrive.

He ordered himself an expresso and whipped cream. He stirred it before taking a sip.

********

You came shimmying up to him. Your short sparkly dress left little to his imagination. He knew what it barely hid. He was perched, at the high top table they chose.

“Nicky, come and dance with me.”

You tugged on his hand. It amused him. Compared to him, everything was so delicate and small. You were like a daisy compared the storm that he was.

“I’ll just sit here and watch you baby.”

A soft pout formed on your full lips.

“Now, don’t be pouting. We both know what happens when you do.”

“Then come dance with me.”

He grimaced, glancing around before he slid off.

“Just this one time.”

You wrapped your arms around his throat, he placed his hands in on your hips. Finding the rhythm and he began to move easily with you. You were easily the hottest woman on this dance floor and you were all his. The lights, twinkled and danced. The music ebbed and flowed and for the first time in his life, he relished dancing the night away.

*****

The bell on the door of the coffee shop chimed bringing him back to his expresso. He took a sip. Perfect, he mused.

Looking towards the door, he caught as Lambert cut a path over to him.

“So what have you decided Adam?”

He adjusted his glasses. “Cutting to quick, I see.”

The man nodded.

“What’s the exposure?”

“If you all do it right? None. You snatch her and then babysit her, twenty four hours tops.”

He pressed his lips together. “Alright. But I pick the muscle. I don’t want some psychotic ape losing his cool.”

Lambert nodded. “Fine. You have two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Impatience rose in him. He took a sip of the expresso to hid his disgust over the idea of waiting.

A bored look came over Lambert. “The subject is overseas. They are expected back in a week and a half. After that, you and the pack will be given the needed materials.”

He adjusted his glasses and nodded. “I just don’t like waiting.”

“Understandable.”

#dan stevens #abigail #abigail movie #abigail 2024 #when the predator becomes the prey #part one #adam barrett #frank abigail #frank abigail fanfiction #frank abigail x reader #frank abigail x you #frank abigail x y/n

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damallarky · 5 months ago

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Truce

There was an influx of Papae!Solas content and I wanted to share a WIP I was working on that I'm not sure what I'm going to do with or where it's going to go in the grand scheme of my Inquisitor and Rook's story.

For context:

Neria is my Lavellan and Solas's twelve-year-old daughter. She is at the Lighthouse because of reasons.

Ren is my Rook. He is my Lavellan's oldest brother.

Solas is busted from the Fade by Rook and Co. Because that is going to happen Bioware.

Neria does not appreciate the strange man who is suddenly in her and her mother's lives.

To Neria, he is the Interloper and must be Stopped.

Stuff happens, and Neria has a change of heart and is willing to give the guy a chance.

However, first, she needs to set some ground rules.

Enasali (who is briefly mentioned) is the Ill-Advised Pre-Veilguard Solavellan Hookup Baby

AKA why it was Varric trying to talk Solas down and not Lavellan.

AKA why Varric has gray hair. Sorry dude.

Neria is too much like her father. I love her.

Neria found him in the library, speaking in low tones to Emmerich and Uncle Ren as they poured over some massive tome. Unnoticed by the three men, Neria used the opportunity to study the bald elf, whom Mamae claimed to be her father.

He had quite a bit more color since her uncle pulled him out of the Fade. He no longer looked so pale and sickly, and the dark circles under his eyes had started to fade. He still looked tired, to be sure, but it was less somehow. He also stood straighter, taller, as if he had been carrying something heavy on his back and was finally able to relieve his burden.

There were other things Neria noticed about him as well. Features that were familiar to her. Features that she knew didn’t come from her mother but never truly seemed to realize that they came from someone else. Like how his ears were shaped similarly to her own or how they both had a cleft chin, though hers was noticeably less prominent.

And then there were the eyes.

Neria knew that she had her father’s eyes; her mother had told her as much growing up. But it never truly registered with her, until she met the man they called Solas and saw her own grayish purple eyes stare down at her.

The same grayish purple eyes that were currently watching her intently.

Apparently, she had been noticed. Great.

“Neria, did you need something? Is everything alright?”, her uncle asked.

Neria fought the growing urge to run away, and instead crossed her arms and tried to give her best “serious” face, like her Aunt Cassandra wore when she meant business.

Neria wanted to show that she meant business, too.

“I wish to speak with Solas,” she said, in her best Aunt-Cassandra-Serious-Business-Voice. Figuring that might have been a little too demanding, she added, “When he has a minute to talk. If that’s ok?”

“Of course,” Solas said, perhaps a little too quickly. Emmerich and Uncle Ren shared a look. Emmerich shrugged.

“Yeah, sure, we could use a bit of a break,” her uncle agreed. He and Emmerich grabbed the book and left the library, her uncle giving her shoulder a small squeeze as he walked by.

And just like that, Neria found herself alone with her father for the first time in her life.

“You wished to speak with me, Neria?” He asked, gently.

Neria cleared her throat.

“Yes. I wish to parley,” she declared.

She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting Solas’s reaction to be. She had figured he would laugh at her and tell her to stop being childish. Or maybe even get angry at her for being so demanding of an adult. What she wasn’t expecting, was for Solas to nod with actual, genuine seriousness. He clasped his hands behind his back, like one of those statues in Orlais of human generals.

“Very well,” he said, before gesturing to one of the many plush chairs seated around the table in the center of the library. “Please, take a seat.”

“Solas, it has come to my attention that I might have been a little bit mean to you.” Then, because she didn’t want to him to think she was going soft, she added, “Just a little bit, though!”

Solas nodded, solemnly, his face carefully neutral. Neria continued.

“As such,” she said, “I wish to declare a truce.”

Solas’s neutral mask slipped, and Neria noticed the corners of the man’s mouth tick upwards ever so slightly. With his hands folded on the table, he leaned forward so that he was eye level with Neria.

“Ma nuvenin. What are the terms of this potential truce?”

“First; I will not call you ‘Papae’ or ‘Father’.”

“Of course,” Solas agreed, “I would not ask that of you if it made you uncomfortable.”

Neria blinked. This was easier than she thought!

“Um, ok. Good,” she said. “Second term; you will call me Neria and only Neria. No stupid nicknames, like da’vhenan. Ok?”

For a fraction of a second, something flashed in Solas’s eyes. Something that looked a bit like hurt. Or maybe regret? However, it came and went so quickly that Neria wasn’t sure if she actually saw it at all.

He nodded.

“Third; if I want to be left alone, I want you to leave me alone. Ok?”

Once again, Solas nodded.

“I would not wish to encroach upon your space.”

Neria mirrored her father’s pose, clasping her hands together and laying them on the table in front of her. She didn’t quite strike the same imposing figure as Solas, but, for being twelve, she thought it was close enough.

“Good,” she declared. “Now, in return, I will permit you to continue to court my Mamae and help her take care of Enasali. But if, and only if, you continue to make Mamae happy.”

Solas’s neutral mask slipped once more and it was obvious he was actively trying not to grin. Neria narrowed her eyes at him, not appreciating the lack of seriousness on his part. Solas coughed and his face went carefully blank once more.

“Ir abelas,” he said, his voice serious despite the twinkle still in his eyes. “Neria, I promise that I will do everything in my power to make your mother as happy as I possibly can for as long as she will allow me to do so.”

Now was the part that she didn’t necessarily want to agree on, but she knew it was only fair. It was the whole reason why she was speaking to her father in the first place.

“And finally,” she said, reluctance clear in her voice, “I will do my best to… to give you a chance.”

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dreamerschroniclesofstories · 1 year ago

Text

Goodbye, Tommy Shelby.

A/n: Hey guys, this is my first fic after finishing my previous series, if you haven’t read it then please do and leave a like or any opinions. It’s all appreciated!. Also, I recommend listening to ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine whilst reading since i listen to it whilst writing this x.

I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ONTO A DIFFERENT SITE OR TO BE TRANSLATED.

Summary: Amelia has been in love with Tommy since she was 17.Today’s tommy's wedding day and Amelia can’t cope.

Word count: 1,575

Ada always told Amelia that there were “plenty of other fish in the sea” and she could do better than her brother, Tommy Shelby but Amelia had her doubts. The idea that there is someone else out there for her was ridiculous. If there were then why had she wasted twelve years of her life loving Tommy Shelby.

It’s to late now, Tommy was getting married and Amelia still felt like the seventeen year old in her room giggling about how Tommy smiled at her. The lead up to the wedding was the worst, every time someone spoke about how beautiful the wedding will be or how Tommy and Grace look more in love as the days pass would cause her heart to feel like, at any minute, it would crawl up her throat and jump onto the floor to be crushed by the passing carriages in the streets or even by the drunken’s getting thrown out of the garrison after closing time.

She knew she was being stupid, she was 29 and still pining over a man who clearly didn’t feel the same emotions she felt for him. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop loving him. The day before the wedding, Amelia decided she couldn't stay in Birmingham any longer. she would leave after the wedding, maybe go to London or even go to new York, she didn't care where, just a place that Tommy Shelby isn't.

Tommy's wedding day.

Amelia hadn't slept the night before, every-time she would try to sleep and close her eyes, all she could see if Tommy's' face, which in turn caused her to silently sob knowing she had lost the man she loved so dearly. She decided to write a letter to Tommy, to give him after the wedding. Confessing her love.

Four hours.

Four hours until Tommy gets married. Amelia was sat at her small kitchen table, holding her freshly brewed tea whilst Ada walks around talking about something that Amelia wasn't listening too. Amelia stared into the dark gloomy depths of her drink, slowly sinking into her sadness as the minutes pass. Ada had placed a plate full of bacon, eggs and sausage, stating that it would be a long day but Amelia couldn't get herself to eat anything, if she does she knew she would bring it back up anyway.

Ada stops her frantic movements when she realises that Amelia hadn't eaten or moved since she sat down “ it will be alright Mia” she whispers reassuringly. Using her nickname given to her by the Shelby family.

Amelia looks towards Ada, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly “ yeah, hopefully” the brokenhearted woman murmured.

Two hours.

Two hours until Amelia leaves, everyone had arrived at Tommy's' house threes hours before the wedding, needing to help set up the rest of the decorations before the wedding had to start. Amelia had been at the house for nearly an hour and she hadn't said a word. Every-time Tommy goes to talk to her, she quickly leaves, pretending that she was going for a smoke break or going to find the toilet. She knew that if she spoke a word to Tommy, she would break down right there, in front of him and in front of the guests that were arriving.

Amelia was stood by the fountain outside of tommys house, holding a cigarette between her lips as she watched the water flowing into the small concrete pond that surrounds it. Amelia was wearing one of her nicest dresses, she had it kept in the back of her wardrobe for special occasions. The gorgeous deep blue garment was embroidered with sliver sequins, though the dress was formal, there was a merriment in its nature and beautiful folds, making it easy for one to run but also to waltz. Amelia knew it was the perfect dress to wear for when she runs off before anyone sees. She didn't want the dress to stop her.

Amelia was in a trance like state, staring at the water. She failed to notice Polly walking over to her. She knew Polly wasn't stupid, Amelia knew Polly knows about her feelings for Tommy. Amelia jumps slightly when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“ you'll catch a fever if you stay out here” the older woman warns.

“ i prefer to be here then in there” Amelia admits, taking a puff of her cigarette then slowly blows out the smoke “ its very overwhelming with everyone rushing around” she quickly covers herself.

Polly lights her own cigarette and raises an eyebrow at Amelia “ if it was my choice, i would want Tommy to marry you instead of grace” she confessed.

Amelia sighs, her eyes glossing as the tears in her soul become tears in her eyes “ it wasn't meant to be pol” she whispers, her voice quivering. She takes a deep breath as she glances at Polly, the waterline of her eyes threatening to spill out, she knew she had to tell Polly she was leaving, since Polly had treated her like a daughter since the day Ada brought her over for tea for the first time.

“ whats on your mind?” the older woman quizzed, holding her cigarette between her fingers, her dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Amelia chuckles and shakes her head, around Polly you can't keep a secret because she'll know automatically “ i'm leaving pol, after the wedding”

it's time

Its time for Amelia to watch as her life collapses, its time she had to sit in the crowd and pretend her heart wasn't shattering into a million pieces as if her heart was made of glass. She was sat in the second to front row with Polly, Ada, Ada's son and Michael.

The wedding had started half an hour ago and for that thirty minutes her tears came freely, like an overflowed storm drain. Luckily, the people around here wouldn't think differently then her being happy for the couple. However, Polly and Ada knew differently.

As the priest announces the newly wed husband and wife, the Shelby brothers and graces family surround the couple. Amelia knew this was the time she had to leave, she looks around to make sure no one was watching, once she knew it was safe she turns around and walks towards the double doors leading to the corridor. She turns her head and glumly smiles, seeing the smile on Tommy's face. She was happy for him, he deserved to be happy.

As Amelia walks outside, the air hits her face, the tip of her nose immediately turning red. Amelia wraps her arms around herself as she begins to rush towards the carriage that was awaiting her with her bags. Her fingers ached in the bitter winter wind, as she clenched and unclenched them trying to keeping an feelings in the tips. As she climbs into the carriage, she looks out through the window noticing Ada and Polly outside watching her, she waves slowly as the carriage leaves.

Once the carriage disappeared, Polly stomps out her cigarette then turns around, walking back into the house, on a mission to find Tommy. Once, Polly found him, she wraps her hand around his wrist “ Thomas come with me” she whispers, taking him to his office.

Tommy's office.

Polly closes the door as Tommy walks over to his desk whilst putting a cigarette between his lips “ what is it pol, ey?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Polly walks over to his desk, picking up the envelope from the oak desk “ Amelia has left, this is for you” Polly explains, walking back over to the door “ you are stupid Thomas, if you didn't see it” Polly utters, leaving Tommy's office quietly, leaving Tommy alone.

Tommy sits down at his desk, immediately opening the letter, leaning back in his seat as he begins to read the handwritten letter.

Dear Tommy,

As i sit here, the night before you get married to someone who is not me, My heart is breaking because i love you Tommy. I love you with every fibre, every cell, every pore of my whole body. I love you, every good part and every bad part of you. It's been such an amazing journey since we first met, but our journey has come to an end. I hope you and grace get the life you are hoping for. How can i put into words something I've never experienced before until recently. i'm dead Tommy, yet very much still alive. You have allowed me to see the power of love, from point A to point Z. I want you to be happy Tommy, have someone experiencing that smile you keep locked away. I don't regret anything that I've felt for you. However, There is one thing i wish you could have seen, it's the things i did for love. For you. Letting you go is forever the hardest thing i'll do in my life but i want you to know you are the most amazing person, the only person i'll truly love with my whole heart.

I know you don't love me, i'm sorry i fell in love with you. i'm sorry i had to leave on the happiest day of your life. You deserve more. i'll hold these last twelve years so damn tight in my heart. I just hope you will too.

Goodbye, Thomas Shelby.

A/N: Well that was an emotional journey wasn't it? i hope you enjoyed this fic. Leave a like, comment , re-blog. Its all appreciated so much xx

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