#dad is eh but it’s growing on him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

haveihitanerve · 8 months ago

Text

Four Times the Batkids Forget They're Adopted, and The One Time Damian Forgets He Isn't

It had started off as a joke, as most things do, and Dick meant nothing behind it, really. It was amusing to him, actually, to tell his coworkers things about Batman and pass it off as his father. “Oh my dad? Yeah hes not big on talking. He loves showing me he cares though.” (this was, of course, in reference to Batman doing three back flips and a kick split when Nightwing had patrolled with him the other day, a classic Nightwing move) But it soon…went deeper. Dick stopped making jokes out of it, and actually began listing things about Bruce. About his Dad. It didn't help that his police friends were actually interested. “So did you and the old man do anything fun over the weekend?” Dick thought back to how he had wanted to surprise Bruce by stopping by for dinner and instead had ended up in the sewer eating granola bars on a stakeout for killer croc, who had escaped. Again. “Oh yeah we had a picnic.” Dick nodded, smiling at Randy. “Yeah. He’s, he’s kinda bad at remembering when to eat a meal on time and all that.” Dick laughed. “Its something I share too. Must be genetics.” He rolled his eyes. Randy laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I hear you. My old man smoked all the live long day. I try to keep it down, but that addiction gene is just strong eh?” Dick chuckled. “Yeah I guess.” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he waved to Randy, turning to tug it out. It was one, simple message from Babs. “Ur adopted genius. What genes.”

Jason didn't even know how they had gotten on the topic. But here they were. “Yes. I got my mothers hair, of course, but I get my temper from my father.” Artemis was saying. “I have parents.” Bizarro grunted. Roy laughed, smacking him on the shoulder. “Well you certainly didn't get Kal’s looks buddy. But you do have his killer hair.” Starfire laughed. “That is true. I, for one, share my parents hair and have my fathers powers. But truly the best gene I was given were my mothers eyes.” They all turned to Jason. “What about you?” Roy asked. Jason scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, I used to have my dads eyes but um after the pit y'know,” He waved to his now green eyes. “And actually I have my dads dark black hair, and he’s graying early too, which might be why my white streak is so prominent.” They nodded in agreement. “But yeah, hes actually a little taller than me so maybe I’ll still grow a few inches but uh yeah. I don't… remember my mother enough to talk about her.” “Dang man. I wish we could meet your dad.” Roy murmured, laying a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Then we could really compare. I mean-” He laughed. “You sound like his carbon copy.” Jason frowned at his friend. “What do you mean? You’ve met Bruce?” They stared at him. “Jason,” Artemis began slowly. “Aren't you adopted?”

Tim hunched over the information form, eyes straining to read the small print. His hand reached up to stifle a yawn and he settled for a sigh instead. It was late, but Tim needed to get the form done before he went to bed, otherwise everything would be far too stressful in the morning. He reached over and grabbed his coffee mug, a dark black cup that had a red R painted on it poorly. Bruce had made it for him a few years ago when he had first become Red Robin. He sipped it, staring down at the medical form. “Gods I hate having to do this.” He muttered, but reluctantly grabbed the thick medical binder Alfred had obligingly gotten for him when he had asked for medical records of the family. Tim did not under any circumstances, want to have to sit at the doctors office the next day and somehow lie his way through all the medical questions relating to his family history. He didn't have the time nor patience for it, and it was crucial he was given proper medical advice what with his missing spleen. “Any history of heart issues Bruce?” Tim muttered, flipping back past Martha and Thomas to Bruce’s great great great grandfather. “Nope, guess not.” Tim was halfway through the form when he realized the blood coursing through his veins wasn't Bruce’s.

Steph rubbed a hand across her belly, staring at the monitor. “Your baby looks good Ms. Brown. They’re at the proper stage. Due in about two months. We’ll see you back here for your next check up.” “thank you doctor.” Steph murmured, sliding off the bed and dressing quickly before hurrying out to her car. The car door slammed shut behind her and she breathed, pressing her forehead to the steering wheel. Her phone buzzed. She lifted it and pressed it to her ear, hitting accept. “Hello?” “hey Steph.” Bruce’s voice vibrated through the phone. “How was your doctors appointment?” Steph gave a bitter laugh. “Everything looks good. The baby will come in about two months.” “Thats good. Thats real good.” Steph nodded, eyes closed. “You doing okay Stephanie?” Bruce asked, voice soft. “I don't know.” her voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting tears. “I just- I’m so scared Bruce. So scared.” Bruce hummed comfortingly through the phone. “I know Steph. Its scary. And parenting, its hard.” Steph coughed out a watery chuckle. “Was that a hit?” She muttered, rubbing a hand over her face. Bruce chuckled. “No. Baby it wasn't. And just think, you’ll get to see all the firsts I didn't get with you. Their first steps. Their first wave. You might even get to hear them say mama before i kidnap- i mean adopt him or her.” Steph laughed again, and it sounded less watery. “Yeah. Well, when do kids start walking?” She asked in interest, sniffing and sitting up straight again. Bruce hummed. “Well i started walking almost immediately, but Im special.” Steph laughed. “Of course.” “alfred said i first started talking when I was around thirteen months old, and Talia said Damian was walking by ten, but she could have been lying.” Steph nodded. “Tell me more.” She whispered. Bruce obliged, happy to distract her. “Oh and whats probably going to be your favorite, babies, or at least I did, start laughing at around four months.” “laughing?” Steph gasped. “Oh Brucie!!! Thats too funny! Little chubby baby you, the future batman, laughing!” She cooed. She could almost feel his eye roll through the phone and stifled her laugh. “So yeah..” Bruce finished. “You should expect your kiddo to start walking around then. And laughing probably sooner. I would have if you'd be in my life at that time.” Steph was quiet. “Thank you B.” He hummed. “Anytime Steph. I’ll always be here to help you.” “Wait wait wait-” a new voice joined in the background of Bruce. “Are you guys serious right now?” Steph identified it as Jason. “What?” Bruce asked puzzled. “B, Stephs adopted. Her kid is as likely to walk at the same time you did as when she did!”

“Damian?” “Go away Drake.” Damian called back, riffling through the papers. “Dami?” Tim poked his head into his younger brothers room. “Oh hey kiddo. Whatcha doing?” “I am busy Timothy.” Damian countered in annoyance, shoving the box back under his bed and moving to his desk. “What are you looking for?” Tim asked puzzled. Damian ignored him. “Dami.” “Go away Timothy.” Tim crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Come on Baby Bird. Tell me.” Damian shook his head, covering the blush on his cheeks by poking behind the desk. “Damian.” Tim’s hand was suddenly on his back. Damian jumped. Tim held up his hands in surrender. “Just tell me. I’m sure I can help you find it.” Damian sighed in acceptance, cheeks pink. “I have.. Lost my adoption papers.” He muttered, staring at the floor. But Tim didn't laugh or ridicule him. In fact, when he looked up, his brother seemed thoughtful. “Well i know me and dick and jason have them hung over our beds…” His gaze drifted to the very clearly empty space above Damians bed. “I know.” Damian jerked his head in a nod. “That is why I wished to find it.” Tim nodded in understanding. “Well, lets go look in the den. Thats where Alfred keeps all the legal stuff.” Damian trailed after his brother to the living room and watched as he opened the cabinet and pulled out three boxes. “You look through this one, I’ll search these two.” Tim ordered. Damian nodded, accepting the box. It was where Alfred found them, two hours later, broom in hand. “My dear sirs, what are you doing?” The butler asked in bafflement. “Looking for Damians adoption record.” Tim answered, nose still in some papers. Alfred looked at them. “Master Tim. Master Damian.” The two boys looked up. “Yes Alfred?” Tim asked. Alfred's face was fond and utterly confused. “Master Damian is not adopted. He is Master Bruce’s blood son.”

@nonepizzawithleftglitter @zombiewithaflowercrown

you asked and you shall recieve!

#i only went with four because they were only so many things i could think of for them to forget theyre adopted #batfam #batkids #stephanie brown #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #batfamily #batman and robin #hope it lived up to your dreams

2K notes · View notes

miyakiwiii · 1 month ago

Text

GUESS NO ONE EVER TAUGHT YOU HOW TO BE A REAL MAN...。o○ [1]

-KANG DAE HO X FEM!READER

WOOOO SECOND DAE HO FIC OF MINEEE(ilhsm) HOPE U ENJOY!

TAGS

Reader and dae ho are both in squid game... uh no warnings except swearing and player EUGH 100

NOTE:

This is really long, since i made this while rewatching squid game s2 lmao. Also your kinda like sae-byeok but more chalant also this is really longU^ェ^U (did not expect this to turn into a series)

WORD COUNT:2,15k!

NEXT PART..

MASTERLIST

The debt was passed to you when eventually one of your only remaining family members were missing.

It was always because that family member always had to go to loan sharks, to get money, and to use for what? The common answer: Gambling.

The debt that was passed to you was... 320 million won.

Your dad, when he was alive.. you were inspired by him, after all, he was in the ROK Airforce before.

You wanted to be like him, but he didnt want that for you, you were his precious jewel.

"Pa! I wanna be like you when i grow up! All strong!" Younger you said as you flexed your tiny arms, flashing a big grin. Your father chuckles as he puts a hand in your head and starts patting you, messing up your dolled up hair.

"Now now kiddo, Being one of us is really difficult, i dont want my sweetie to be hurt." He says, kneeling down to face you as you pouted.

"Nuh uh! Im still going to become an air enforcer like you!" You said as you crossed your arms.

"Im warning you kiddo." He stops kneeling down.

Well, that dream never came true.

Sitting in one of the benches, it was dark. Now why would a woman stand in the dark all by herself? Isnt that dangerous?

Not at all for you- okay that was cringe.

You fought for yourself always, learning to survive and such.

"Need to go home now.." you sigh, standing up from the bench and fixing your jacket, putting your hands in the pocket, whew it sure is chilly.

"Now now... whats a pretty girl like you doing all alone in the dark?" A creep asks, you could tell it wants something for you, so you kept walking, fastening your steps even more.

"He-Hey! I was talking to you! Come back here!" The creep yelled out.

"Get the fuck away from me." You said, the man finally quiet down and just stood there, watching you walk, and dissapear in the distance.

Finally, arrived to your home... or small apartment, you searched for the keys in one of the pockets you put your hands on, now holding onto the small key, you took it out of your pockets and opened the door.

DAY 2.

You went into the subway for absoulutely no reason at all, going down the stairs on the subway station's tunnel entrance, now sitting in one of the chairs to relax,you saw a... man in a suit, smiling weirdly with a briefcase approaching you, Guess he was a scammer?

The man smiles at you and sits beside you at the bench.

"Hello maam, may i talk to you?" He says, looking at you strangely.

You ignore him and just look at the ground of the subway station.

"Would you like to play a game with me?" He says, looking at you, eugh that stare kinda creeps you out(ik some of yall be simping)

"Eh... who even are you to begin with? Some kind of buisness man exactly?" You say, looking at the man.

You find him, his suitcase opened, finding a red and blue folded paper, along with... won.

He holds out both of the folded paper, and asks. "So, which color do you want to play as?" He says.

"...Blue." You say.

A FEW ROUNDS LATER.

He had explained the round, basically, the two of his slaps were decreasing of the 100k won, but instead, we pay with our... body? That sounds like prostitution but its done anyways.

He looks at you as you stood silent, looking at the man.

"Here's your won." The man says, the man's slap still aching.

"You can make money after playing game's like this do you know that miss?" He says, as you held the money.

"Would you like to try it out?" He said, the hint of mischieoveness achived in his voice.

You thinked, looked at the man. "Huh? Are you trying to fool me sir?" You say monotonely.

"Miss [Reader]." He said as he stood up. You went quiet as you looked at him, how did he know your name?

After that, he said everything, every information you had, school, work- whatever else, even your fathers name.

"As now, one of your family members passed a debt to you about.. 230 million won due to loan sharks."

"Wha- what are you..?" You said, looking at him terrified.

He pulls out a card from his coat pocket, holding it out to show to you.

"We have many spots left." He says, you took the card fastly from his hand, basically snatching it.

"Give me a call." He says as he walked away, you were left there, standing.

DAY 3.

You wake up, in a strange place. Looking around, you held your head as you sighed. Rubbing your temples.

"Fucking hell... my head hurts. You sat up, and took off the duvet that was covering you. Realizing that you had new clothes, you decided to unzip the zipper of the greenish blue jacket, you saw that something was written on your shirt.

238.

"What the... fuck." You stood up and went to the center, as someone accidentally bumped into you.

"Hey-! Watch where your going!" You say, the music that was coming from the speakers finally stopped as the man spoke to you "You watch ou- oh.. i apologize miss."

"Yeah, you better." You said, looking at the man.

You observed the man as you saw that he had a hair length that was reaching his neck a little bit, he had a strong jawline, and a part of his hair was tied to the back, he kinda looked cute whatsoever, but you didnt pay mind to that.

You looked at his jumper, the jumper has a number.. '388.'

The front door opened as three men with masks, the middle one has a square mask, the other two? Both circle.

"Thats strange, this isnt a costume party at all." You say, hand on your waist.

The man was still beside's you, you didnt notice him looking at you, and then he looked back at the guards.

Murmur's filled the room, as you stayed silent, the man beside you tried talking to you.

"Real- ehem, real strange for sure." Yet you still ignored him.

TIME SKIP OF THE SQUARE TALKING.

"Excuse me." A voice said from afar, you turned around to see, it appears to be a transgender woman, you respected her of course. She stepped down some few steps and said..

"You said i'd be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me." She said, looking at the guard.

"I apologize." The man in the square soldier says. "Please understand it was necessary to maintain the game's security."

"... I agree, we didnt consent to this at all." You spoke out, looking at the guards as people leaned their head torwards you.

"So how can we believe that?" She says.

"Whats with the mask then? Is your face also a secret?" A random female says.

"Yeah! Why are you hiding your face? Is this some kind of illegal gambling house?" A random man says.

"Even the dealers dont cover their faces in those place's!" The random woman says.

Murmur's build up as i listened to some of them.

"To ensure fair gameplay and confilentiality, it is our policy not to reveal the face's and identities of staff please understand." The square says.

"... i dont really give a shit about all this talking.. except taking us to some- some place else." i sigh, crossing my arms.

A diva- i mean a girl holds out the jacket given and holds it up. "Did you take off my clothes and put these on me?" The girl says.

"My shoes are limited fucking edition." A forked up- i mean a purple haired guy says, rotating the shoes. "They're hard to find, you goin' to replace em if they get" RUINED?!"

"These dont fit and the color sucks... can i just have what your wearing instead? I like pink" the girl says.

I sigh, looking at the girl from afar, hands now in my pocket's.

TIME SKIP WHEN THEY ANNOUNCE THE PPL W/ DEBTS CUS IM LAZY..

(sorry chat)

"Hah, a crypto scammer in this game...? Noted." I say as i scoff, after hearing the mans words.

"Player 333, llee myung-gi." As the square presses something, the tv that was placed up the screen showed something, the ddakji game..!

"Age 30, Used to run a Youtube channel called MG coin. After Convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won. You shut down and dissapeared. Your wanted for fraud, and for violating telecom,and financial investment laws. Current debt level, 1.8 billion won."

"Player 196, Kang Mi-na, 45 million won in debt."

"Player 120, Cho hyun-ju, 330 million won in debt."

"Player 238, [READER FULL NAME]. 230 million won in debt."

'What a fucker..' i stay silent looking at the side.

"Player 230, Choi Su-bong 1.19 billion won in debt."

"Player 198, Jang do-yeong 1.4 billion won in debt."

"Player 226, Kim Yeong-san 1.9 billion won in debt."

"Player 444, Kim Nam-du, 2.02 billion won in debt"

"Player 343, Sim Jae-Seok 2.89 billion won in debt."

"Player 006, Park Mi-hwa, 3.1 billion won in debt."

"Player 283, Lee Eun-jun, 4.02 billion won in debt."

"Player 100, Im Jeong-dae, ten billion won in debt."

"One more game!" The screen's speakers yell out.

"What a greedy old grandpa, huh?" You tried talking to the taller man beside you.

"Uhuh.. totally.. haha.." he says, scratching his nape.

"Who is that? Who is he?" Some people say.

"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT!?" it yells out. "DO YOU THINK- BLAH BLAH BLAH blah blah..."

'Yeah we dont really care whatsoever.' You rolled your eyes, murmurs still surrounding him.

"All of you in this room, Have crippling debts, and now on a cliff-edge. When we first came to you, you did not trust us either. But as you know, we played a game, and gave you money as promised, And so you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will. You have one last chance to decide, Do you want to live in a piece of trash running for creditors? Or will you seize the last opportunity we are offering?" The square finishes.

I listened carefully (finally) to its words, processing all of it inside my head.

The light's suddenly darken- and now there was a golden glow emitting from above.

"Is heaven taking- woaah... never mind i guess." I look up and above, a piggy bank, not just any ordinary piggy bank, a fucking. Huge. One.

The music that appeared fastened up when the piggy bank was going down.

"Whoa, thats huge yanno'..?" The man beside's you says.

"What you see now, is the piggy bank where your valuable prize money will be stored. After each of the six games you will play, the prizs money will be accumalated in this piggy bank." The square says.

A mama's boy- i mean a man speaks up and asks "how much is the prize money?"

The square answers the man's question. "The prize money for the game is 45.6 billion won in total."

Shocked gasps and sounds build up.

"45.6 billion... won..." i say, my eyes blinking "thats insane."

"And one of us will get it?" The man asks.

"We will give you the detail's about the distribution of the price money after the first game. For these games, you will be given a special new advantage." The square says.

"What is it?" The old bit- i mean man says.

"After each game, you will be given a chance to vote on whether to continue the game or not. If the majority votes to stop the games, you can leave with the prize money accumalated up to that point." The square says.

"Are you saying.." a man says from behind,not in the crowd, but in the sides of the bed- whatever its called

"We'll receive the money after we leave the first game?"

890 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 2 months ago

Text

Fucksgiving 2k24: Growing Family

You and Joel try to patch things up with your father while starting a family of your own. A Thanksgiving oneshot in the Stranger in a Bar universe.

^This is how I pictured this Joel as I was writing, with his lil tie on. Sorry not sorry.

Pairing: DBF!Joel x Female Reader (from Stranger in a Bar)

Length: 3.8k

CW: BREEDING KINK. Unprotected P in V for obvious reasons. Planning for pregnancy. Age gap (Joel is 20 years older, reader is 35 and Joel is 55.) Reader's dad is kind of a dick. No outbreak AU. Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that Joel was reader's dad's bestie and he and reader are living together after dating years prior. No use of Y/N, minors DNI 18+ only.

A/N: Here's something to read while you navigate your own Thanksgiving dinner situations which are, hopefully, less awkward than this one. Happy Thanksgiving!!

“I mean it,” you said, clutching the casserole dish of mashed potatoes tightly to your stomach. “Best. Behavior.”

“When am I ever not on my best behavior?” Joel asked, his hand on the small of your back possessively.

You stopped in the middle of the drive on the mercifully long walk to your parents’ front door to stare at him, incredulous.

“When are you?” You asked, brows raised. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you behave yourself, not once, especially not where my dad is involved…”

“Alright,” he chuckled good naturedly. “I’ll do my best.”

“You’d better,” you said. “He’s just coming around to this, OK? I’d rather not blow it.”

“I know, baby,” he said, kissing your temple. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

“Thank you,” you said, continuing up to the front door.

“Your dad needs to behave too, though,” Joel said, sticking close to you. “Because I’m not gonna just let him say the same shit he always does, I don’t care.”

“Please try,” you said, ringing the doorbell. “If you do, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Really?” He asked, his voice husky. “Dyin’ to know what you mean by that.”

“I mean,” you said, keeping your voice low. “Given how much I want to fuck your brains out, I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating and I can think of all kinds of ways you can try to knock me up - hey Mom!”

“Hey, honey!” Your mom opened the door and pulled you in for a hug. You just caught Joel’s expression out of the corner of your eye, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” you gave her a squeeze, carefully angling the casserole dish away from her before stepping back. “We come bearing potatoes.”

“So you do!” She said, taking the dish before turning to your boyfriend and taking a deep breath. “Joel. Always good to see you.”

You looked to Joel and saw him collect himself for half a second before smiling to your mom.

“Good to see you, too,” he said. “Been a while.”

“Yeah,” she smiled a little bigger and reached out to give his arm a squeeze. “It has.”

You gave Joel an encouraging smile as the two of you followed your mother into a kitchen that was overflowing with dishes.

“Can I help?” You asked, laughing a little as you looked around.

“Oh…” she sighed, looking around before she laughed, too. “Yes, yes please. Your father has been utterly useless, just wandering around, muttering to himself. Not that he’s the most helpful in the kitchen but he’s not completely incompetent…”

“He’s good on the grill,” you said. “Kitchen… eh.”

“Well, yes,” she giggled conspiratorially. “But I try to give him credit where it’s due. Usually I’m not on my own for a holiday but this year he’s been… something.”

You just hummed in agreement and started in on the green beans because you were pretty sure you knew the reason why your dad was acting strange and that reason was currently asking your mom how she wanted the cucumber cut for the salad.

Joel and your father had barely spoken in the six months since you’d moved back to Austin and gotten back together with Joel.

Not that you were too surprised about that. He was, after all, one of your dad’s closest friends and was much closer to his age than your own. You hadn’t exactly expected the news of your relationship to go over well but it had been even worse than you’d anticipated.

You’d arranged to talk to your parents in public when you decided to tell them. Neutral ground, as it were. Plus, you were pretty sure your father would be less likely to punch Joel in the face if you were in public.

It ended up not making much of a difference.

“You’re what!” Your father stood up so fast that his chair fell over, the sharp clatter of the wood on the tile restaurant floor and violence of his tone plunging the once bustling room into silence.

“Dad,” you said gently. “It’s not a big deal…”

“The hell it’s not!” He yelled, looking between the two of you. “When the fuck did this start, hm? When the hell did you start fucking my daughter!”

“Why don’t you sit down and…” Joel began, but your dad didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” he put his finger inches from Joel’s face. “She is a child!”

“I’m 35!” You gaped at him. “Dad, you’re being ridiculous!”

“You’re already in hot water,” he snapped at you. “So keep your damn mouth shut while…”

“Don’t talk to her that way,” Joel said, standing up with too much force, his voice hot. “You got a problem with me, handle it with me, don’t take it out on her.”

“Don’t you tell me how to treat my own fucking kid!” Your dad yelled. “I’ll handle her however I damn well please!”

You weren’t sure who threw the first punch but it devolved quickly then, your mother pulling your father away while you dragged Joel back, both men bloody and panting for breath.

You kept your distance from your father after that. You talked to your mom regularly - she was smart enough to give up on trying to talk you out of your relationship quickly and, eventually, was even happy for you - but your father took some time.

After a while, he was willing to talk to you. Your mother must have given him strict rules - he didn’t try to talk you out of your relationship or question Joel’s integrity - but it was stiff and awkward.

Thanksgiving had been your mom’s idea. Joel was hesitant but - after you conspired with Sarah (you and Joel’s daughter becoming fast friends once you moved past the awkwardness of your closeness in age) so she would stay in Dallas to go to have dinner with her boyfriend’s family - he’d agreed eventually.

“If this don’t prove how much I love you, woman,” he’d grumbled as he tied his tie that morning.

“You? Love me?” You asked, adjusting the knot under his chin. “News to me…”

“Uh huh,” he smiled a little, just enough to make his cheek dimple.

“Never said it,” you had to fight to hold your smirk back. “Definitely not 20 times while you were inside me last night…”

“That don’t sound like me at all,” he teased back before going to kiss your cheek. “You look beautiful, baby.”

“Well, I do have a hot date.”

“Really? When’s he showing up?”

You glared at him and he laughed before giving you another kiss.

“Let’s go before I lose my damn nerve,” he said. “Gonna be the most awkward Thanksgiving ever.”

For a little while, there in the kitchen with just Joel and your mother, you almost forgot how awkward this was supposed to be.

You and Joel moved around each other in tandem now. You’d been living together for months and you’d fallen into sync so fast it was almost strange when you stopped to think about it. When you’d moved in with your ex, it took what felt like a small eternity to really understand the flow of his life, to subconsciously recognize where he was going in the kitchen when you were cooking side by side, to remember to consider him when making decisions big and small. With Joel, it was almost instantaneous. There had been no odd fumbling around each other as you went through your lives under one roof, no putting one brand of peanut butter back to pick up the one you suddenly remembered he preferred, no confusion or frustration when you came home from the office to find him not back yet. It all clicked, like you’d been built to do this alongside each other all along. Even in the unfamiliar space of your parents’ kitchen, his hand found the small of your back as he moved behind you to get a serving bowl and you just knew which knife to pass him from the block beside you when he went to reach for it.

Things shifted when your sister showed up about an hour and a half before dinner, her arrival finally coaxing your father out from wherever he’d been hiding since you and Joel had gotten there.

“Hey Dad,” you smiled at him after he finished greeting your sister and he stood, hovering awkwardly in the kitchen. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, princess,” he said pulling you in for a quick hug.

He turned his attention to Joel then, looking him up and down like he would an adversary.

“Joel,” he said, nodding once.

“Hey man,” Joel said, holding his hand out. Your father’s jaw twitched but he shook Joel’s hand all the same. “Good to see you.”

Your father just grunted before going to the fridge and getting out a beer. Joel followed him and you and your mother exchanged worried glances.

“Think the Cowboys are gonna pull out a win this year?” Joel asked.

Your dad held his beer for a moment, looking like he was considering just not responding but then seemed to think better of it.

“We’ll see,” he said. “With their record, I’d settle for not getting our asses handed to us.”

Things were easier after that. Your father and Joel disappeared to the living room and you heard the telltale sounds of football follow immediately after.

“I still can’t believe you’re fucking Dad’s weirdly hot friend!” Your sister said, just quiet enough that your mother was out of earshot. “Or that you were for years, forever ago! Seriously, there are rules about holding back to your sister like that.”

“You don’t need to know everything I do, you know,” you said.

“No but I need to know everyone you do,” she said. You snorted. “So… you think it’s going to last?”

“Well, we’re trying for kids,” you said, putting the last of the shredded cheese on the mac and cheese. “So it’d better.”

“What!” She yelped.

“What?” Your mom ran over. “Everyone OK? Did you burn yourself?”

“We’re good,” you smiled. “Just catching up. Sister shit, you know.”

“Yeah,” your sister said. “Sister shit.”

Your mother went back to the other side of the kitchen and your sister mouthed oh my God at you and you fought the urge to laugh. Your dad might hate your boyfriend but at least you could count on your sister to be your sister.

Eventually, the rest of the family came over, too, and everyone settled around the overly full dining room table, Joel sitting beside you with a reassuring hand on your knee as he made small talk with one of your uncles.

Dinner went surprisingly well, at least until everyone was a few glasses of wine deep and your father decided to pick a fight.

“So, Joel,” he said, setting his wine glass down with a little too much force. “Not sure if I should thank you for getting my daughter to move back home or if I should blame you for her obsession with being a failed musician for a living.”

“Dad!” Your sister gaped at him. “What the fuck!”

“Language, please!” Your mother said.

“Just seems to be real clear to me now,” he said. “Doubt she’d be so stuck on playing that damn guitar all the time if it weren’t for your bad influence.”

“Bad influence?” You laughed. “Dad, I’m almost middle aged, I’m not some impressionable teenager. I love my work, I don’t consider myself to be a failure just because I do music therapy instead of being a rock star, I…”

“You could have actually done something with yourself, you know,” he cut you off. “Instead, you decided to drive your life into the ground with this man and some bullshit career path…”

“Watch it,” Joel said sharply. “Not gonna let you talk to her that way. You will treat her with respect or I will make you treat her with respect.”

“Respect?” Your dad asked, his eyebrows raised. “You’re gonna sit there, in my house, at my table and lecture me about respect when you decided to take up with my daughter?”

“Stop it!” You shoved your chair back, throwing your napkin on your gravy smeared plate. “Both of you! Dad, stop acting like your my keeper and that I don’t have any goddamn agency because you raised me! Joel, stop acting like I need you to defend my honor! Just… fucking stop it!”

“Baby,” Joel said but you ignored him, stalking off to the guest room at the back of your parents’ house, needing some space from everyone.

You let yourself cry for a minute, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at an old family photo of you with your parents and sister, back when you were just 10 years old. Your hand drifted to your lower stomach. You weren’t pregnant yet - at least, not that you knew - but you couldn’t imagine your child doing anything that would make you as mad at them as your father seemed to be at you loving Joel.

There was a soft knock at the door and you wiped your eyes on the backs of your wrists.

“Yeah?”

“S’me,” Joel said quietly. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you sniffed.

He came in, closing the door gently behind him before sitting next to you.

“You OK?” He asked after a moment.

“I will be,” you sniffed again.

“I’m sorry baby,” he said, reaching out and cupping your face, his thumb tracing the arch of your cheekbone. “Know I promised to be on my best behavior but… Look, him being a dick to me is fine, I can handle that. I just can’t watch him say that shit to you. But that don’t mean I should get… aggressive and…”

“It’s not your fault,” you said. “I’d do the same thing if I were you, I can’t really blame you for it. And I appreciate that you care about me…”

“I love you,” he smiled a little. “More than just about anything else. But that means I need to take care of you in the way you want me to, not just the way I want to do it.”

You smiled tightly before leaning in to kiss him. Joel kissed you back, gentle at first but, before long, something shifted, the kiss becoming hot and needy.

“Baby,” Joel said, his voice low. “Should… should probably get back out there…”

“They can wait,” you said, panting a little. “I want you.”

He groaned, nipping at your lower lip but still hesitating.

“Please, Joel,” you breathed, pressing yourself closer to him. “I need you. Let’s make a baby.”

“Fuck,” he said, his tone shifting, and then he was on you. His tongue plunged into your mouth as he lay you back on the bed.

He didn’t bother taking your panties off, just tucking them to the side and tugging the low v-neck of your sweater down to expose your cleavage.

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he groaned, cupping your sex with one hand and tugging your breasts free of your bra with the other. He mouthed at your nipple, licking and sucking over your breasts as he ground his palm against your clit, one thick finger slipping inside your seam to your already dripping entrance. “Don’t deserve you, baby.”

“Yes you do,” you whispered. “You deserve the world.”

He just moaned in response, kissing you again, one large hand cupping your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple.

It wasn’t long before he shoved his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock and he jerked himself a few times with the hand that had become coated in your wetness. He notched himself at your entrance, his head thick and large and swollen, and pressed inside, a moment of resistance before your channel stretched over him and he buried himself within you.

He pulled his lips from yours, his head falling to the bed over your shoulder as he panted for breath.

“Goddamn you feel good,” he said, voice tight and hot in your ear. You rolled your hips up against him, making him moan.

“Good,” you said. “Love making you feel good, sometimes that’s all I want to do.”

“Fuck, you think your daddy hates me now,” he said. “If he knew what you do to me he’d shoot me.”

He started to fuck into you then, keeping his chest pressed tight to yours while his cock worked you hard and fast inside, his head finding that soft and tender place within you that built your orgasm fast with every stroke. He ground his cock against you there, his hips on your clit, making every ounce of need inside yourself gather tight and low.

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted. “I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, I…”

“Good,” he growled. “Come for me, come while I get you pregnant, c’mon baby and come all over me.”

You had to bury your face in his shoulder to keep quiet, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast, your center fluttering over his thick length as he held himself inside you.

“Oh you like hearin’ that, huh?” He asked, breathless, starting to move again, already building your next orgasm as he did. “Like hearing how I’m gonna put a baby in my baby, that it?”

“Yes,” you groaned, your second climax growing quickly. “Yes, please, please, please, please…”

“You don’t gotta beg for it baby,” he said, pulling back from you enough to look you in the eyes as he spoke. “I’ll give you everything, as many babies as you want, fuck, gonna give you my baby right now, gonna make you pregnant, fuck!”

He buried his face in your neck and pressed himself so deep inside you as he came, the heat of him spilling into you in thick, heavy pulses.

“Fuck,” he said after he finished, kissing your neck before pulling back from you to kiss your lips, too. “Didn’t mean to come that quick, wanted to get you off one more time first.”

“It’s OK,” you said, panting, even though it was kind of a lie. You’d been so close to coming again that you felt tight inside your skin, an energy rippling over you that you knew you wouldn’t be able to shake until you came again once you got home.

“No, it’s not,” he said, sitting up and slowly, carefully pulling his softening cock from you. “Got you all worked up, not taking care of you the way you deserve if I don’t finish the job.”

You felt some of his come slip out of you but he caught it with the tip of his cock, pressing it back inside before tucking himself away in his underwear and cupping your swollen, aching sex.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said quietly. “Take care of you the rest of my life.”

He worked your clit, slow and gentle circles at first before his touch grew firmer, drawing your orgasm back to the surface in the way that only Joel seemed to know how to do. You came to his touch, feeling his thick come inside you as you did, like your body was trying to pull him even deeper inside.

“There you go,” he said, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “Fuck, so pretty, every damn inch of you.”

You panted for breath, relaxing down into the bed before suddenly remembering that your entire family was down the hall.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “We should get back.”

“We should,” Joel said, tugging your panties back in place and helping you cover your chest again before chuckling. “Think your daddy really might shoot me if he found us like this.”

You laughed and sat up, looking at Joel for a moment. You trailed your fingers through his hair and he smiled a little, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Really not sure why you think I’m worth all this trouble,” he said. “But I sure am thankful I have you.”

You smiled back.

“I’m thankful for you, too.”

You kissed him and he helped make sure your hair and makeup didn’t look like you just got fucked within an inch of your life before you emerged, the party having moved to the living room, your mom and aunts on one side of the room, your dad and uncles on the other, an uncomfortable silence falling when the two of you walked in.

“Joel,” your dad said, getting up and walking over with a sigh. “Look… not sure I’ll ever really be OK with this but… my daughter could do worse than a man seems to adore her and is willing to stand up for her.”

“I do adore her,” Joel said. “I love her. I want to do everything I can for here as long as she’ll let me.”

Your dad nodded slowly.

“Think I can live with that,” he said. “But you hurt her? I will kill you.”

Joel laughed a little.

“I expect nothing less.”

Joel and your dad seemed a little more like the friends they’d started out as after that, laughing and talking and watching football. When the two of you left for home, your father and mother walked you out, containers of leftovers in hand.

“It was so good to see you both,” your mom smiled, giving you a squeeze. “We’ll have to do this again. Soon.”

“We will,” you kissed her cheek before turning to your dad. “It’ll be nice.”

“It will,” he said before looking to Joel and holding out his hand. “Welcome to the family.”

Joel smiled a little, taking his hand and shaking it.

“Thanks for letting me in it.”

You smiled the whole drive home, Joel’s hand on your knee.

“So,” he said, looking at you conspiratorially as he pulled into the drive way. “Think the family will be even bigger next Thanksgiving?”

“I sure hope so,” you smiled. “But I think we’ll have fun trying either way.”

“Think we should try again now?” He asked, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Because, you know… if you’re ovulating, should probably do it again. Seems like the smart move.”

You laughed, already adding pregnancy tests to your mental shopping list.

“Well we can’t start out our lives as parents doing the dumb thing,” you said and he laughed before the two of you went inside to try again to grow your family.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller smut #breeding kink fic #breeding kink Joel miller #dbf!joel x reader #fucksgiving #stranger in a bar

459 notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 11 months ago

Text

toaster waffles

in which spencer is woken up by fem!reader and their young daughter after being away on a case

fluff warnings/tags: none really, a bit of suggestiveness between spencer and reader but nothing explicit, their daughter is a genius duh, i love dad!spence so fucking much holy shit a/n: i wrote this in like thirty minutes so good luck! just needed to write dad spencer it just needed to happen idk

“No—baby, we have to let daddy sleep in,” you chide your daughter, jogging to catch her as she races down the hallway on clumsy little legs.

“No! I wanna see daddy!” She yells—and if Spencer wasn’t awake yet, he will be now. You give in, opening the bedroom door for Ada with a fond (exasperated) sigh.

“Daddy! Daddy wake up!”

He blinks sleepily several times, sitting up and grinning at his daughter as she attempts to climb up onto the bed.

“Hi, princess,” he laughs, grunting dramatically as he pulls her up onto his lap. “Oh my gosh, did you get all grown up while I was gone?”

He catches your eye as you stop at the foot of the bed, arms folded and mouthing an amused ‘I’m sorry.’ Spencer smiles and almost imperceptibly shakes his head, eyes sparkling as Ada attempts to use him as playground equipment. No apology necessary.

“I made you breakfast!” she remembers, grabbing onto his shoulders and springing up and down on the bed. His eyes go wide.

“You did? Where is it?”

“Oh no!” she claps her hands to her cheeks and opens her mouth wide, Home Alone style. Spencer laughs. “I forgot it!”

Then she’s wriggling off the bed and running as fast as her little feet will carry her, presumably to the kitchen.

“You like cold toaster waffles, right?” you tease, approaching the bed and filling the now empty seat that is Spencer’s lap. His hands find your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I would go so far as to say I love them. Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder. “I missed you. I forgot how hard it is when you’re gone.”

He hums, running his hand over your hair.

“I know. Me too.” Spencer now only consults on cases, and very rarely is he actually obliged to travel with the BAU. It was never easy before, but now that you have a child, it takes more out of everyone. “Hey. Look at me.”

You do, lifting your head and meeting his soft gaze. He leans forward and captures your lips in a gentle kiss, brushing his thumb over your cheek before pulling away. “I love you. Thank you for taking care of the progeny while I was away. I know it’s not easy on your own.”

“Eh. She’s alright. She reads to me at bedtime.”

Spencer grins, eyes darting back to your lips. Several quick kisses are pressed there in succession, and it’s not exactly how he wanted to say good morning to you but that will have to wait until later.

“Ewww!”

Ada is at the door again, waffle in hand, making a half-disgust half-delight face before prancing back to the bed and receiving another airlift from Spencer up onto the mattress.

“What do you mean, ew?” he asks in mock offense as her legs swing in the air. “You’re next!”

You watch in unadulterated joy as he peppers little kisses all over her face and she pretends to hate it, squealing with glee.

“Is that for me?” he asks once she’s comfortably sharing his lap with you, pointing to the forgotten waffle. She holds it up, pressing the disk against his lips. Spencer takes a bite, makes an exaggerated yum sound, and kisses her forehead once more. “Thank you. That was delicious.”

“You have to eat all of it so you’ll grow up big and strong.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll do that. Why don’t you leave it on the nightstand and go find a book we can read together?”

“Game of Thrones!”

“No!” he laughs. “That book is way too grownup for you!”

“But I read the first three pages!”

“I know you did. And Auntie Penelope is still in big trouble for that. Go get Lord of the Rings.”

Full of energy despite the early hour, Ada skitters off again to find the book.

“She’s too smart for her own good,” you sigh, listening to her making up a song as she picks through the book shelf in the next room.

“Intelligence is generally more nurture than nature. If we act fast we could probably stunt her IQ to just two or three standard deviations above the average.”

You giggle, straddling him as he slips his hand under your shirt to rub your back. Then you try to school your features into a serious expression.

“Not funny.”

That big, lazy grin might never fade—and you’d be happy to look at it forever.

“You’re right. Not funny at all.”

“Hey,” you remember, grabbing his biceps. He raises his eyebrows expectantly. “I was gonna make you real breakfast. What do you want?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. I want to. So tell me what you want.”

“Anything other than a toaster waffle.”

You snort, moving to slide off the bed.

“We can probably make that happen.”

“Hey—" he catches your waist, pulling you closer. “Penelope is taking Ada to the park this afternoon. We’re gonna spend some time together, okay?”

After having an entire child together, you still get butterflies when he looks at you like that.

“What if I have plans this afternoon?”

Spencer doesn’t even look mildly concerned—just tilts his head, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“Then I’m asking you to cancel them, pretty girl. I owe you some undivided attention.”

You chew on your lip. It’s embarrassing how easily he can still fluster you.

“Right now I have to go find out why our child is being so quiet.”

He laughs, letting you slip from his grasp for good.

“She probably got into the Stephen King again.”

You pick up the waffle and gesture at him with it emphatically as you walk away.

“This is all your fault.”

“Mm… let’s call it a team effort.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds

2K notes · View notes

ludwigplayingthetrombone · 1 year ago

Text

Bing Bang boom, Kakagai confession part 1 is done! Takes place during the 3 year gap between og narts and narts shippuden starting

Kid: Race you back! Kks: Let's go, Gai Gai: Papa

Kks: He's too important to risk Kurenai: You can push him away, kakashi, but that's /his/ choice to run back in. Punishing yourself will only leave you with regrets. Asuma: You and Gai have always been a pair

Dai: I don't have to worry about him knowing the two of you look out for eachother. Rin: You like him, don't you? Kushina: Have fun with Gaaaiii~! Kks: UUUGH Gai: Found a quiet place to space out, Rival?

Kks: Ooo!...Mm!

Gai: Do you not savor /anything/? Stop/doing/ that, you'll choke. I don't want to hear at all about your stomach hurting later Kks: Oh, I will. I'll have Pakkun track you down just so i can tell you

Kks: You didn't have to leave your brats. You looked to be having fun. Gai: Nonsense! They met up with their other friends! We always spend festivals together! Kks: Just letting you know

Gai: What's gotten into you?I knew you were up here brooding. Kks: I like watching you with them. You act like more of a dad. Reminds me of Dai

Kks: You just need a mustache Gai: I could never grow that beast. That's a relief! I thought you were mad at me. Ruined a date or something like that. Kks: A date? That'd be a first Gai: Eh? Kks: Never been.

Gai:... You've never been on a date? Kks: Not seriously. Never seemed appealing to me. Gai: People throw themselves at you daily! You could truly have anyone what do you mean?? Kks: I'm not interested in any of them/ I was also working non stop back then, you know that. Gai: Is there any person in this village you /do/ want to kiss?

Kks: Yeah Gai: WHO??? Kks: You seriously want to know?? Gai: Only if you want to! As your trusted rival, your secret would die with me! That's my self rule!

Kks: Fine

Kks: It's you.

Kks: Now you know... Gai?... Yup, ok... I made it weird. Sorry-

Kks: Forget i-

Tenten: GAI SENSEI!!

Tenten: I GOT THE TURTLE Lee: Can you believe it, sensei?! Tenten: [maniacal cackling] Gai: AAAAAAA!!

Gai: Excellent work, tenten! Tenten: Here ya go! Gai: For me? Tenten: It reminded us of you, so we had to win it! For the best sensei! Lee: Neji's idea Neji: Lee! Kks: Hm, Naruto gave me a frog in his pocket once Gai: I truly have been honored with the best students!!

Neji: The fireworks are starting soon Tenten: Kaaayy! Lee Right! LEt's go, kaakshi and Gai sensei! Gai: Uuhh Kks: Lead the way, Lee

#kakagai #gaikaka #kakashi hatake #maito gai #might guy #naruto #my art #team gai

2K notes · View notes

qrrieterisunnq · 3 months ago

Text

Bonfire And S'Mores

FT. JACK HUGHES AND BONFIRE SEX MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut — WARNINGS: sex scenes (please keep it safe guys!) — SUMMARY: When Quinn, Luke, and Jack, have one free weekend at the same time, they decide, they would like to spend some time with their parents and Jack’s girlfriend. So camping in Big Bend National Park in Texas sounded like the best idea. Especially for Jack, when he gets to spend some time with his girlfriend alone in a tent. — WORD COUNT: 3,06K — AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's been messy with me, but I hope you'll like this fic! I enjoyed writing this, so I hope you'll enjoy reading this.

“I’m so tired.” you yawn and open your tired eyes, while you sit in the car on the way to the airport. You, Jack, and Luke are heading to Big Bend National Park in Texas, together with Quinn and the Hughes’ parents.

“I know baby, but you can sleep in the plane. Okay?” Jack says quietly as he looks in the rearview mirror at his younger brother sleeping with his mouth wide open.

“I know,” you murmured, leaning your head back on the window. “I’m so excited to see your parents.” you look at Jack whose smile grows at your confession.

“You do?” he smirks at you bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

Giggling, you tuck your head between your shoulders, while your cheeks turn red. “Yeah, I do. You know I love your mom.”

“Yeah I know, pumpkin,” he sighs, caressing your hand. “Close your eyes. It’ll take a while before we get to the airport. The traffic is terrible.”

“Wake me up when we reach it, I want to be up before we arrive,” you say before you nuzzle in your jacket and scarf.

“I will, now sleep.” he chuckles and turns on the seat heating. You moan softly as the warmth hits your body, and lulls you to sleep in a few minutes.

The car ride is for a few minutes, with you sleeping silently next to Jack and Luke in the backseat when his phone starts to buzz in the phone holder.

Jack slows down a little bit and answers the call and turns the volume down a little bit so you won't wake up.

“Hi momma, keep it low, please. Luke and y/n are sleeping.” Jack says in a low tone looking over at you and Luke, hoping you won’t wake up. You were up until 2 am last night when both of you insisted on finishing watching some TV show.

“Okay, okay!” she giggles. “I’m just calling to ask when your flight is going to take off. So dad and I know when to wait for you at the airport.” dad’s laugh rang in the background of the call.

“Eh, the flight is taking off around 8:30, I guess. I’d have to ask y/n about it, but I don’t want to wake her up.” He sighs, trying to remember the time of the takeoff while he listens to the noises coming from the speaker in the car.

“No that’s completely okay, no need to wake her up. You can ask her when you’ll reach the airport and then text me. Or she can text me after all.” she says with a grin in her voice.

“Okay, I’ll tell her when she wakes up,” Jack smiles, turning left at the crossroads. “Is Quinn already there?” he asks when he hears his older brother's voice from the background noise.

“Yeah, dad and he arrived about an hour ago,” she murmurs, shushing the two in the background.

“Is that Jack?” Quinn's voice rings through the speaker which makes Luke move in the backseat.

“Yeah, but not that loud Quinn. The babies are sleeping.” you can hear your mom shushing him.

“Oh, sorry. Are you on your way?” he asks in a quieter voice, and Jack has to chuckle at him because he can vividly imagine his face.

“Yeah, we’re on our way to the airport,” he nods turning left on another crossroad to get on the highway.

“Okay, we won’t disturb you! Drive safe baby!” Ellen says before ending the call.

“That was mom?” Luke's groggy voice sounds through the car, startling Jack.

“Shit man!” he breathes put shaking his head. “Yeah, that was mom. Wanted to know when we’re taking off. And keep it low, please. Y/n’s sleeping.” he says when he sees Luke wants to say something.

“Oh okay. Sorry. Uh can we get something to eat before we arrive at the airport.” he groans quietly as he stretches his limbs in the small place that is in front of him.

“Sure, what do you want?” Jack looks at him through the mirror, raising his brows, while his right hand squeezes y/n’s tight when she moves in her seat and lets out a soft sound.

“Taco Bell. Please!”

“Baby, we’ll be at the airport in a minute,” Jack says in a shush tone, squeezing you tight to wake you up. You stir in your seat, groaning and stretching your legs while taking in a deep breath. “If you are hungry, there is a burrito under your feet if you’re hungry.”

“I fucking love you, Jack.” you peck his cheek quickly before you pull the bag with food on your lap.

“Oh really? Without me you wouldn’t have any food sis!” Luke gasps from the backseat, scaring the shit out of you.

“Jesus. Luke!” you whisper after you catch your breath.

“Sorry, but it’s true.” he just shrugs his shoulders as he continues in eating his food.

“Okay then, I fucking love you, Luke.” you giggle while your hand makes its way between your seat and the door to the back of the car, reaching for Luke’s leg or arm.

He interlocks his finger with yours and squeezes them. “And I love you sis.”

“Oh, stop those lovey-dovey things you two!” Jack looks in the rearview mirror and gasps. “You are cheating on me with him?” he turns to face you for a few seconds and all of you have to keep in your laughter as soon as he says it.

“Oh my gosh! We should stop it!” you laugh covering your mouth.

“Yeah we really should,” Luke adds with laughter letting go of your hand in the process. “That was really weird feeling.”

The rest of the way to the airport is in silence, with music in the background. Just as Jack parks his car, you finish eating your burrito.

“Okay! Our flight takes off in two hours, so we should hurry up,” you sing as you get out of the car and jog towards the trunk to pull out your suitcase.

Just as you are about to pull it out, Jacks hand stops you making a low ‘tsk tsk tsk’ sound.

“What?” you look at him with a bored expression. “I’m not allowed to get my own suitcase, or what?”

“No, you are not!” Jack says pushing you gently away so you hit Luke's chest and Jack can pull out your suitcase and place it in front of you. “Here you go, princess.”

With a roll of your eyes, you grab the handle of the suitcase and make your way inside the airport building.

“Oh, my baby!” Ellen shrieks as soon as she sees you. You let go of your suitcase, leaving it behind you as you run into her arm.

You both wrap your arms around each other as soon as you collide together. Ellen wraps her hands tightly around your figure. You melt into her embrace, snuggling your head in the crock of her neck.

“Mom.” you breathe out, moving even closer to her hug.

“MOM!” Jack and Luke say in unison with disbelief written on their faces.

“We are your babies!” Luke cries out, shaking his head.

“Oh, c’mon guys! You know she loves her more than you!” Jim laughs pulling Luke in a tight hug, while Jack is hugging his older brother.

“Yeah, we do!” Quinn laughs pulling away from Jack, who is looking at his mom and girlfriend having their moment as they whisper about something.

“Okay, mom! It’s my turn with y/n!” he gently pushes mom away from y/n pulling his future sister-in-law into a hug.

“Oh, c’mere Luke!” Ellen sings pulling his youngest son in a hug and kissing his cheeks.

“Okay, everyone greeted everyone?” Jim asks, his hands crossed on his chest, as he watches his family smile and laugh.

“Yeah, grumpy man!” Jack chuckles ducking his head from Jim’s hand.

You just shake your head at his childishness, and you make your way towards the airport entrance with Ellen.

“Okay! Y/n, Jack, you two are going with Quinn, Luke you are coming with us!” Ellen commands, turning around and smiling at her boys.

“Okay!” Luke salutes jogging to his parents’ car and waits for Jin to open it, so he can jump inside.

With a wave, you say goodbye to the three of them and make your way to Quinn’s car.

The ride home was quick for you. You barely said a word to Quinn, because you, yet again, fell asleep in the backseat and slept through the one-hour ride, only to be woken up by Jack who is carrying in arms.

“Sleep baby! It’s already nine pm. We’re leaving at six in the morning,” He says as he lays you down in his bed. “I’m going down for a while, mom made a diner, so if you want I can bring you some.” he cocks his head caressing your cheek.

“No that’s okay, I’ll come with you, I’m hungry,” you mumble and rub your eyes as you sit up. Jack chuckles helping you sit up and then stand up. “Did I sleep the whole ride home?” you ask looking at him with something written on your face, that Jack can’t identify.

“Yeah, you fell asleep the minute you sat in the car.” he laughs, grabs your hand and together you make your way downstairs to the kitchen.

“Hi there sleeping beauty.” Quinn grins at you from behind the table.

“Leave her alone Quinn.” Ellen swats her hand across Quinn's arm while urging us to sit down.

“So we’re leaving at six in the morning, I already made some food for us, while we’ll wait there. At the airport, there’ll already be a car waiting for us, with everything in it.” she smiles, handing you a bowl with a salad.

“Oh, I cannot wait!” Luke jumps on his hair, almost dropping the plate he is holding in the air as he waits for you to scoop up a portion of food.

The rest of the dinner is followed by laughter, stupid jokes falling for your mouths, and a few kisses that Jack steals from you.

“Shit! Luke! Watch where you are going!” Quinn yells when the tent they are building almost falls.

“Sorry! It’s not my fault that the stick was so long!” he throws his hands in the air in defeat.

“Well, you have eyes so you should have looked around before going somewhere!” Quinn yells again, shaking his head at his youngest brother's stupidity.

“I said I’m sorry!” he sighs with a shake of his head and starts to help Quinn build the tent again.

You and Jack just laugh quietly as you watch the two build it over again. “I’m glad I’m not building it with them.” he giggles and pulls you closer to him.

“What is going on?” Ellen asks with confusion written on her face. She sits next to you on the wooden bench with Jim following her motions.

“Agh,” Jack sighs with a chuckle looking down at you. “Long story short, Luke is stupid.”

“What did he do?” Jim looks over at his middle son with curiosity.

“He almost tore down the tent with the stick he was trying to put inside the holes,” you explain, leaning more into Jack's warm body.

“Oh my…” he pinches the bridge of his nose shaking his head. “I have no idea where we found him El, but I’m pretty sure he can’t be our son.” As soon as he finishes his words he earns a smack from his wife as she shakes his head at him.

“Need some help, you two?!” you yell at them when you see how they’re building their tent.

“No, we got it! But thanks!” Quinn yells back sending you a shiny smile.

“Well, then, we can set a fire in the meantime,” Jack asks, looking around for some wood.

“Oh, about this! I talked with the firefighters, and they told me we could set a fire, but it must be covered at the sides, and we needed to water the area around it so the fire would not expand.” Jim says stopping his son from going somewhere.

“Okay. We can look at what we have packed for the bonfire and then we can build it.” Ellen suggests, cocking her head to the side.

“Sounds like a plan.” Jim smiles and kisses the side of his wife’s head.

“Finally.” Quinn laughs, fist-bumping his brother.

“Finally.” Luke sighs, breathing heavily.

“Dumb and Dumber.” Jack shakes his head and tightens his arms around you.

“Don’t be mean. They’re your brothers.” you jab him in the ribs lightly, pouting your lips.

“I know baby. Sorry.” he sighs. He knows that you hate when he’s mean to his brothers. He knows you blame yourself for your siblings not talking to you. And he’s trying his best to let you know that his siblings are yours too.

“Jack?” you whisper in his ear when he listens to Quinn talk about something.

“Yes, baby? " Immediately, he turns his attention on you, his eyes searching yours and his hands tightening their grip on your waist.

“Come to the tent in seven minutes,” you whisper, your lips touching the side of his ear, sending shivers down his neck. You stand up immediately, earning attention from everyone. I’m going to sleep. My head is hurting,” you explain, wrapping your hands around yourself. Night.”

“Night, y/n!” Quinn and Luke say in unison, chuckling immediately.

“Night, sweetheart.” Ellen smiles at you and Jim nods his head with a small smile lingering on his lips. You turn around and walk to the tent, not forgetting to wink at your boyfriend.

Jack shifts in his seat, adjusting his pants. “Fuck.” he mumbles under his nose and looks at his phone counting down the seconds before he can stand up and leave.

As soon as the seven-minute limit runs out, Jack excuses himself, saying he doesn’t want to leave y/n alone when she’s feeling sick.

He tries not to look desperate, but he hears Quinn’s chuckle already knowing what is following.

“Don’t be too loud. There is a kid!” He teases, his middle brother earning a middle finger from him.

Jack opens their tent and slips inside, smirking immediately when he sees you sitting in those cute pajamas under the duvet.

“Hey, my love!” he whispers and crawls to you stealing a kiss from you.

“Hi Jacky,” you mumble in the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you.

“What was that for?” he asks as soon as he pulls away from the deep kiss.

“I just wanted to show you how much I love you,” you shrug, grinning at him because you know he knows it’s not true.

“Oh you do?” he teases you, slowly lying at you, pressing his already hard cock into your belly. “Well then you should show me how much you love me and get naked.” he cocks his head to the side, slapping your ass harshly.

In a few seconds, you are lying under him with nothing on just like Jack. “Fuck I missed you, baby. It has been too long without you,” he murmurs in your neck as he traces his way down to your breasts with kisses.

“It was only two weeks, Jacky.” You moan when his lips close around your left nipple sucking hard on it while his fingers pinch your right one making you let out a little louder moan.

He releases your nipple with a pop, looking at you with a devilish smirk. He reaches for your panties, which are right next to you, and stuffs them in your mouth, earning a gasp from you.

“I need you to be quiet. I know you like to be vocal, but my brothers and family are here, and I don’t want them to hear your beautiful noises.”

he smirks, kissing your forehead and nose before looking down at you again. “Now will you be my good girl and be quiet?”

Eagerly you nod your head, waiting for Jack to do what he has in plan. He reaches between the two of you, palming his cock and sliding it between your lower lips to feel how wet you already are.

You moan at the feeling of his cock on your pussy, and instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck to keep him in place.

Slowly he pushes his dick inside you, inch by inch until he’s balls deep inside you. “Just like that y/n, keep squeezing around me.” He murmurs in your ear slowly moving his hips while his lips suck on your neck, drawing more moans from you.

You can feel a strip of saliva running down your chin as you moan loudly around the panties in your mouth. “Jack,” you try to say, but it’s harder than you thought with the panties.

“I know my love,” he whispers thrusting into you more intensively and roughly. His hand moves to your leg so he can bring it on his shoulder, to change the angle and thrusts deeper into you.

You moan and dig your nails into his back as you squeeze around his cock, your juices coating his cock and balls.

You pull the panties away from your mouth, gripping Jack’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I’m going to cum, Jack!” you whimper in the kiss, tightening your legs around his waist and grinding on him.

“Then come, baby! Coat my cock in your juices,” he says in a rough voice his hand moving down to your clit circling it with the right pressure.

A few hard thrusts later you are falling apart in his arms, your legs shaking around his waist. Jack thrusts into you a few more times before his orgasm hits him and he collapses on top of you.

“Wow, that, that was something.” he breathes out placing soft kisses on your neck and slowly reaching your lips.

“I love you, Jack. Just want you to know,” you say nervously, caressing his cheek when he pulls away from you.

“I know, and I love you,” he says softly, brushing the hair away from your face. “Now get some rest baby,” he says moving you around, so you rest on his chest.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jh86 #jack hughes smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl #nj devils #quinn hughes #hughes brothers #qrrieterisunnq's autumn masterlist #luke hughes

248 notes · View notes

formulafics · 1 year ago

Text

★ MINI…ER LANDO: PT. 2 | LN4

scenario: a continuation of the first mini…er lando fic, in which he and his wife reveal her pregnancy.

pairing: lando norris x wife!reader

a/n: dad lando is growing on me 😭 not that i didn’t like it to begin with, but i wasn’t crazy about it. i hope all of the dad lando lovers enjoy! do we want a third part with actual dad lando rather than just pregnancy stuff?

PART THREE

requests are open for smau’s! | check pinned for more info

ynnorris

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, georgerussel63, carmenmundt, and 234,512 others

ynnorris baby norris is a girl 🩷 thank you to everyone who came to the baby shower. i love you guys so much!

view all 2,365 comments

nandoland asked for charles and got carlos…i’ll take it

⤷ ynnorris my apologies - charles was crying and i thought i’d save him the embarrassment @/charles_leclerc

⤷ charles_leclerc i appreciate that you didn’t take a picture but this is equally as bad 🤣

landonorris carlos picture before me? 🤨

⤷ ynnorris he got that jar open it only seemed appropriate

carmenmundt thank you for inviting me and george! i had such a good time and i’m so happy for you and lando 🫶🏻 can’t wait to meet her

⤷ ynnorris of course! don’t tell george, i don’t want to inflate his ego too much, but his gift made me weep after everyone left

⤷ georgerussel63 awe i’m happy that you like it ❤️ no ego inflated don’t worry

⤷ ynnorris that’s a lie from hell and you know it but thank you george

danielricciardo baby norris is already one of my favorite humans, just like her mom

⤷ landonorris what about me?

⤷ danielricciardo eh…

lando.jpg

liked by ynnorris, danielricciardo, alex_albon, charles_leclerc, lilymhe, lewishamilton, and 426,321 others

lando.jpg reporting from the hospital - baby norris is on her way 🫡

danielricciardo i am on the way tell yn to hold it

⤷ ynnorris HOLD IT???

⤷ rizzciardo LMFAO HELP i live for yn daniel interactions theyre so funny

charles_leclerc CALL ME WHEN I CAN COME VISIT and let me know if you need anything

carmenmundt ahh!! i’m so excited for you both. george and i are always here if you need anything

2K notes · View notes

brawberryz · 10 days ago

Text

What is that skin!?

Damian Wayne × BatSis! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

After asking (begging) Damian to play Fornite with you and as crazy as it sounds he accepted! (With gritted teeth but he accepted)

Instead of rotting his brain solving cases, he would rot his brain playing video games

You were getting ready to play, you accept the invitation and when the game was about to start- wait... is that Hatsune Miku!?

"What is that skin, bro?"

You said holding back laughter, you didn't think Damian was a fan of Miku, you thought he was too rude to be interested in those topics like vocaloid

"What's wrong with it?"

He said with an annoyed tone from his headphones

"Well... I mean there's nothing wrong with it but it surprises me because, well... it's you"

Damian arched an eyebrow at your answer "and what's the problem, miku is cool"

"Well I'm just saying that I didn't think you liked anime girls"

You said letting out a small laugh

"Hatsune Miku is NOT an anime girl SHE'S A VOCALOID DAMN IDIOT"

God, with that scream she could have easily broken your eardrums, how the hell did damian not tear his throat?

"Okay now I understand, although I remember having seen her in an anime.."

You said thoughtfully, from the other side damian let out a grunt as he settled into his chair

"But if we're being honest, teto is much better than miku"

"What did you say?"

Damian said with a sinister tone

"What a teto is much better than Miku"

You repeated without realizing when that was the straw that broke the camel's back, in a few seconds the door of your room was knocked down, right there was Damian with his two katanas ready to split you in two and shatter you

"Damian?"

You spoke with a scared tone while you cowered in your chair, he may be much smaller than you but damn it sometimes he was scary

"You will pay for your words"

Damian slowly approached you while you backed away in your chair

"Hey dami, this is too extreme, are we really going to fight over a fictional character?"

You tried to reason with him but nothing could calm your anger, you felt your end approaching

"It's okay do you want to hear it, I'm really sorry!"

You said, maybe if you apologized your death wouldn't be premature

"It's too late to apologize"

"What?... Wait Damian!... DAMIAN!!"

Bruce swore that he was going to grow more gray hair than he had if you and Damian kept doing stupid things, he was in the hospital while you rested on a stretcher

On the other side was Damian with a frown as he looked at you and his angry father

"Seriously Damian, what were you thinking when you STABBED AND BREAK YOUR SISTER'S ARM!?"

Bruce said hysterically, he thought that you two would spend some time on charity and would have a better coexistence

But it seems that they decided that it was a better idea to fight to the death

"Damian Wayne, you are grounded for hurting your sister and you will not go on patrol until I say you will go"

"WHAT!?"

The boy said angrily, you swore that Damian was about to jump on Bruce and strangle him

"While you, Miss, are also grounded and will not go on patrol until I say so"

"EH!?, it's not fair, I AM THE VICTIM!"

You said in a dramatic tone as you abruptly stood up from the stretcher

"I'm not going to discuss it anymore, you better respect your punishments"

Bruce spoke in a serious tone as he gave you and Damian a cold look

"Okay dad.."

They both said in unison letting out a sigh of defeat, maybe next time they should control themselves more...

Bonus ( *・ω・)ノ ♡~

Graphic description of how BatSis! Reader looked after Damian entered her room

175 notes · View notes

ma1dita · 14 days ago

Text

don't blame the kids

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> not your goddess | next -> trouble's coming for you words: 7.6k summary: (established relationship (kinda lol)) The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. The Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: the Chapter—set during the winter solstice; tldr: your dads are besties + hera is a good judge of character.... more d & trouble as requested, enjoy! eh ill edit this once i get back from class later tonight, taglist & ao3 update to be posted then as well

—

Your head falls against the metal of the school bus with an audible thunk. The sound of discordant cackles wakes you up from a dreamless sleep, making you jam your mouth shut and feel your spit go stale on this chilly winter morning.

“Rough night?”

Keeping your cool despite the pounding headache, you mumble out an incoherent reply to your younger brother, whichever one he was. The old leather seat sighs as one of them sits down, the added weight jostling your legs as you groan and open your eyes to see two blond heads staring at your tired form. One of them peers from over the seat in front while the other leans over your lap, rifling through your backpack for snacks—there’s no such thing as personal space with these two for siblings.

You blink slowly as your vision clears, the cold grayscale interior of the bus still too bright on your eyes.

It’s too early for this shit.

“You’re talking to yourself again,” Pollux grins, noticing briefly that you’ve made an internal thought external. He hands his twin a granola bar from your backpack and leans back against your shoulder.

“Need this weekend to be over already,” you mumble, “just wanna sleep a bit longer and forget all of this. You two helping me later or are you gonna do that juggling bit again with the bottles of ambrosia?”

“Too bad it’s just begun,” Castor chuckles, before flopping back into his seat, then calling out, “and we’re playing the water glasses, thought it would make dad laugh—HEY!“ You tossed your water bottle at him and missed only because he conjured it into his hand and not your intended target of his skull.

“We’ll be around if you need an extra hand up there,” Pollux murmurs over a hot chip, the crunch reverberating into your ear, “Are we gonna talk about why your boyfriend is on the opposite end of the bus?” Or why he didn’t come to cabin 12 last night… The stealth of sons of Hermes aside, the twins always know when he drops by— Luke usually leaves bags of stolen candy and tiny trinkets tied to their doorknobs when they lose teeth. To be honest, they’ve known the tooth fairy hasn’t existed since they were ten, but Pollux has one last molar he was looking forward to cashing in for a Push-pop.

“Nope.”

“Good talk,” he nods, before belching so loudly you shove him into the aisle, “Ow!”

The rest of the bus is filled with quiet chatter and excitement as you decide to take the chance and get up to survey the handful of campers who join you for the winter solstice. Some of the younger ones are crammed like sardines with bobbing heads as the bumps and turns of the Long Island Expressway rock them in and out of sleep, which is a privilege you were just robbed of. The others that are still excited to see their godrents move animatedly as they clamber over each other and practice their performances for later, a dissonant symphony of prose and instruments out of tune, vines growing from the Demeters’ row, and multiple charcoal pencils rolling along the floor towards the driver sitting up front.

There’s only so much you can hide on a bus, and now that you’re awake…

“Beck!” you hiss as the smell of burning hair wafts through the enclosed space, “No fire on the bus!” The dark-skinned boy looks at you sheepishly, fanning his younger sibling’s singed eyebrows and cracking open a window. Ironically (no pun intended, but while we’re here, ha!) Hephaestus will love his kids even if all of Olympus goes up in smoke. You wish you could say the same for the rest of your campers. The ones left to consider—like those of Hermes, watch the blur of the road whizz past their peripherals, lacking their usual sense of merriment and mischief in knowing their father will be a no-show even on the one day a year they’re allowed to visit. Though a worthless trip off the island is way better than cleaning wine glasses with the nymphs—to them, kitchen duty ends when one’s fingers are about to fall off the bone.

Making a mental tally of your kids in case any of them have decided to fall out of the vehicle during your much needed break (demigods can get into twice the amount of trouble mortals can in half the time after all), you notice Annie’s waving you over towards her and her seatmate who is coincidentally the only person you wish would drop into the East River.

You make your way over feeling like you’re walking to your death, with your knees buckling with the movements of the bus, momentarily stumbling to a stop in front of their row and conjuring a juice box for Annie with a small smile. Your boyfriend(? — could you still call him that? You remember falling asleep in the storage room counting the sleeping bags, waking up in your bed alone and not much else) looks up at you expectantly as if you’re the one who should have something to say now. You avert your eyes quickly.

Even on the shortest day of the year, being under his gaze makes time pass slowly like being dipped in molasses. The feeling sits at your throat uncomfortably, and your resolve makes your stomach feel like an endless pit.

“Yeah, Annie?” you say simply. You don’t mean to, but the smile on your face fades ever so slightly. They both notice and don’t say anything—one in contemplation and the other in disappointment.

“You look awful.”

Okay, what the fuck. Between the thousand-yard stare you gave your wall this morning and the amount of time you spent slathering makeup on at the crack-ass of dawn, you would think that at least your eyebags were concealed enough.

But Annabeth Chase is nothing if not honest, and even if you were the best actress she’s ever met (which you are), there is no way of hiding heartbreak.

Can you call this that?

Heartbreak.

You’re still unsure of if it’s really over—can you say that Luke broke your heart if there’s no way of being certain? What is a break, anyway? Are there terms and conditions you should follow? Is this the part where you two just never talk again and it’ll always feel like this?

But if the boy sitting across from you broke your heart, you think you’d be able to tell—so let the evidence show (or lack thereof) that you’re pretty sure he took it with him, wordlessly and selfishly like a son of Hermes would. With no remorse.

Let’s not call this heartbreak then. Perhaps the more accurate word to describe your expression is despondence—he chips away at you further with how he looks at you now. Luke catches himself admiring the way you’ve done your hair and the glitter on your eyelids and then honey meets amethyst as your eyes lock. In between an obvious sigh and the way you bite your tongue, he realizes that despite your beauty always rivaling that of Aphrodite (at least in his honest opinion), there’s something hollow in the way you look back at him this morning. He doesn’t know how to feel about that either.

You both didn’t end off on a good note yesterday—and that much, plus the rare occasion of sleeping alone in the months you two have been together was disconcerting, to say the least.

“Thanks for that. If that’s all, I’m gonna go back to my seat,” you deadpan, turning back towards the front of the bus.

You can’t even look at him, you realize. In the almost five years you’ve known Luke Castellan, your favorite thing to do was just look at him, from the way his nose scrunches when he laughs, to the fluttering of his eyelashes when he gets tired, because one of the easiest parts of loving him was by just watching him to see if he was looking right back at you.

And you can’t even do that, because it comes with a whole bunch of feelings you have no time to unpack right now. You decide to focus on the scar that spreads across his cheek instead when Luke calls your attention back towards them. He says your name so softly you almost miss it, gentle, like how someone talks to a child. It’s infuriating.

“I thought you were driving the bus today?”

Somehow a simple interaction like this feels like the hardest performance of your life. Breakups never came easy, but dear gods, why right before the winter solstice of all days— you mumble a reply so quietly even Annabeth leans a bit closer to hear, “Didn’t sleep well. Big day today.” You brace against the seatback in front of them, tightening your core as the bus whips around a bend.

“Thought it’d be safer if I got one of the satyrs. Had to promise him unlimited access to the kitchens for a month though.”

Almost slamming into a full stop, your eyes widen as your body hits leather, properly leaning over the both of them as the daughter of Athena holds onto your leg and one of Luke’s hands grabs your arm.

“Gods. Look how that’s going,” the younger girl jokes, before looking up again to see her brother and you staring at each other motionlessly. Everything goes quiet—you don’t hear screaming campers or see Clarisse shaking one of her younger siblings upside down for a candy bar. Your knees shake slightly under the weight you figuratively carry on your shoulders. How will you show face to the gods when you can’t even keep a smile steady?

Time stops for a moment, and if it’s only been 12 hours, you’ve already lost count— but its felt like a lifetime since he held you like he might still care. It’s hard to tell, the both of you are too stubborn and it reminds you of a time when all of your conversations went like this—vitriol and annoyance leaking from each word, but at least when you were fourteen it felt like the build up to something great.

But what happens after great is exhausted? The comedown is a terse conversation that almost flies over Annabeth’s head—said in a way that adults do when everything is veiled and heavy, not meant to be seen by prying eyes and younger hearts.

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way,” Luke mutters from beside her. You retract your arm like you’ve been burned and shake your head, “Well, it did.”

The wise girl starts to put the dots together, face scrunching as she deciphers the hidden meaning behind your exchange. She should’ve known Luke didn’t actually want to sit with her and talk about her latest chess match—the son of Hermes loves a good game but has no interest if he’s not the one winning. They both watch you rush back to your seat, the swaying of the bus pushing you farther and faster until you fall away out of sight.

When she gathers her thoughts, the words lay heavy on her tongue like a hot iron until she spits it out at her older brother. Annabeth Chase sparingly cusses, you see, mostly under her breath and really only when she’s stumped by a situation, especially since she’s only just turned eleven a few months ago—but she looks at him like a foreign object she doesn’t know how to dissect.

“You’ve got nerve, Luke. How do you always fuck up this bad?” Her dark braids drag over her shoulder as she turns to look the other way, away from him.

Luke swallows dryly, biting down on the flesh of his cheek. Between his plan for today and his impeccable timing of monumentally screwing up his relationship with you?

It’s like Annabeth hit the nail on the head, and he couldn’t agree more.

—

“Alright, places everyone,” you drone, tapping your pen against your clipboard like a gavel before a session in court. The Hall of Gods is just as unruly as your campers when you don’t water down the juice boxes, you realize—Olympians are mulling about the throne room, chattering and making it known that they’d rather be doing who knows what on the only day of the year that it’s mandatory for them to be parents. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you silently agree—there are much better uses of your time that you can think of right now, like making sure to hand Michael his epi-pen before lunch and hoping Connor and Travis aren’t scamming every seller blind at the street-markets of Olympus.

Everyone else is enjoying their free time and you’re…here, watching Apollo, god of music and truth, annoy his twin by sending birds to fly circles around her head.

Cacophonous laughter startles you, turning to see Hades watching the chaos with his arms crossed over his chest. Draped in black, his chill expression looms over the papers in your hand as he peers at the schedule.

“Siblings, am I right? Sorry you have to deal with mine.”

“Divine Hades,” you bow your head slightly, “they’re erecting your pedestal for the solstice as we speak, I apologize in behalf of—”

He waves a hand dismissively, “No need, child. I know you’re just doing your job. I can wait.”

“Well, I can’t if they’re all acting like children,” you mutter, the both of you watching Zeus bicker with Hera with increasing volume before she storms out, not before addressing the god of the Underworld with a nod.

And he smirks, letting out another laugh that the sound of it quiets the Olympians and sends them towards their seats like obedient students in a classroom. The nymphs are finished pushing the newly-fashioned slab of a throne into position, twelve turning into thirteen and Hades makes his way over as well, gesturing back at you, “Remind me of your name again?”

You say it calmly, clicking your pen. Your dad is sprawled out on his throne, legs over the side as he stares at the ceiling, “Alright princess—let’s get this show on the road.”

“Will we be waiting for…” your voice trails off, briefly looking towards the door.

“Nonsense. I’m sure you can brief her afterwards,” Zeus booms, and you swallow. There goes your lunch break.

“Of course. And Hermes?” You ask, eyes flickering to the only empty seat.

“Working.”

Clearing your throat, you stand tall to address the deities in the room and though you can’t look any of them in the eye, (besides your father that’s already guzzling his fourth cup of ambrosia at eleven in the morning, but you're not any better---you're on your third can of Redbull) it does not deter you from what you came here to accomplish. Might as well do the job well if there’s nothing else to look forward to for today.

You go over the schedule of events like an automated system, not stopping even when Ares starts sighing at the end of your sentences and Demeter sends daggers toward Hades with her eyes. It’s enough to wonder why those without children present today even stay. Formalities, you presume.

“Any questions? Good, I’ll see you all in here at four o’clock,” you quickly say, not giving them a chance to interject—spinning on your heel to walk out of there with even a shrivel left of your patience.

You find yourself running through your list again by the time you reach the end of the hall: you need to grab the tapestry that cabin 6 wove for their mother’s shrine from the bus, Lee needs help bringing in the harp after lunch, and your brothers need enough wine glasses to fill with water for their performance since they haven’t mastered the conjuring trick so well yet.

Her presence imposes itself upon you before you spot her perched next to the windowsill—the queen of the gods is not meant to be a decorative wallflower, after all.

“D-divine Hera,” you stutter and stop short, “Would you have a moment to go over the schedule?”

“I know the schedule, child. I’ve been here longer than you. What is it, your fourth year running this thing?” She’s expressionless, maybe even a bit bored with the topic as she looks down at you. You stare at the peacock feather shawl that hangs off her shoulders.

“Third, ma’am.”

Hera smiles (or at least it sounds like she is, talking to her has always felt like twirling on a minefield), “It doesn’t surprise me that all of this falls on a woman. Where’s your husband?”

“My what?”

You don’t mean to, but your knee-jerk reaction is to look her in the eye and the both of you are surprised by that. Hera’s perfectly arched brows are sky high now, but you haven’t been incinerated yet, so you can deduce that she might like you (or is still contemplating the matter), “The one with the pretty face, such a shame about that scar. You two were inseparable last year, I just assumed…”

With a face on fire, you clear your throat, “Oh. Luke and I aren’t…” Your eyes press closed, hot-red embarrassment brimming into tears you don’t expect to surface. Another reminder that he’s not your…anything right now.

“Mm,” she hums thoughtfully, “Sometimes I forget what year it is. Human societal norms and all that.”

A soft wind billows through the open air, and you hug the clipboard to your chest. You are not about to trauma dump on Hera. Though in a way, she might understand you more than you think.

“I sent him away, I guess. Sometimes it’s much easier to do things alone,” but even you don’t sound convinced. The side of Hera’s lip quirk upwards and she looks at you knowingly, “I agree. Though I guess there are worse things in life than sharing the hard parts with someone you love.”

Looking down at your shoes, you’re not sure of what else to say. It reminds Hera of her and her husband, before time complicated everything. In the early years, every obstacle feels world-ending until it passes and all you can do is laugh with the person who was by your side.

“I don’t have to be there later, don’t I?” the queen of the gods mutters. You shrug. Your opinion doesn’t matter, clearly, because she continues, “I don’t have any children in the show that are performing but…I want to be there.”

“I get that,” you say awkwardly, shaking your head to not fumble this conversation further, but she smiles, patting your shoulder as she walks past—it almost feels like a blessing.

Or maybe she wasn’t even listening to you at all.

She stops at the end of the hall.

“Trust is a fickle thing, child. It has more value once it’s been broken, and rebuilding it takes two sets of hands. Catch and fall, push and pull, go and follow.” Hera looks back at you again, her white dress swishing at her hips, “Do you agree?”

“I guess.”

The queen of the gods looks at you thoughtfully, a girl humbly offering her heart out to her divine presence and wanting her partner, a son of Hermes at that— over any glory Olympus can provide.

Oh, to be young and in love—it makes one invincible.

“Then I hope he makes it worth your while.”

She leaves you to your thoughts and they echo to meet her like a bittersweet greeting. Hera smiles, seeing them run through your head like a video on loop—replacing bloodied bandages in a dark train car, glitter and giggles in a locked room, burnt chocolate chip cookies, and face masks in the dim light of a bathroom.

The ritual of marriage has definitely changed over the millennia the goddess has lived through, but what you and Luke share is what she considers to be its truest form—that of two souls choosing one another over and over.

—

There’s not a lot of things that can make the herald of Olympus stop in his tracks. He holds as many titles as the letters that fly through his fingertips—though Hermes delivers mail with gratifying ease. The job has always been second nature; being a father…not so much.

But all the power in the world cannot compensate for the fact that you cannot save your children from themselves.

So when he sees you leaning against one of the ornate marble doors outside the Hall of Gods that afternoon, he wills himself to join you in real time. Infinite versions of himself scatter across the Earth with every second that passes. But you look familiar, and well, the trickster loves solving a good puzzle.

“I know you,” he says matter of factly, yet he can’t put his finger on it. His voice is deep, like a howling wind; it blows your hair back even when he stands still in front of you. Your gaze lifts from your clipboard to travel across his face briefly, but you don’t look him in the eye. You can’t even if you wanted to—incineration by divine form and all, so you weren’t about to test your luck with him. Tempting though—you’ve heard enough about Luke’s father to want to burn holes through the god’s head like he could yours.

“Shouldn’t you be inside with the other campers for the rest of the show?” Hermes prompts again, despite your silence. He is the god of communication after all. But there’s not a single thing you could think of telling him besides, “Shouldn’t you? Your kids have been waiting all year to see you.” Mortal lifetimes pass in the blink of an immortal’s eye—but he can’t spare a few minutes to see his kids? Hermes shrugs, like it’s nothing of the sort. Nothing he can do about it. Olympus takes priority.

“The work never stops. You would know that.”

There’s a startling shriek that escapes from the seam of the doorway as little Will Solace shuffles through the doorway shyly. He tugs at your sleeve, keeping his head bowed and mumbles your name, “Where’s the bathroom?” The god replies to the kid instead, looking at the tiny fractals of light that reflect off the boy’s hair, “Uhhh…down the stairs and to the left, fourth door.”

“Need me to go with you buddy?”

He squeezes your hand and shakes his head, undeterred by the fact he interrupted your conversation with an Olympian, instead going to hop down the stairs without looking at either of you, “Miranda tried to sing again. She should really just stick to plants.”

Perhaps the presence of gods isn't as impressive to a mortal when their godrent regularly visits them.

“So why exactly did you want to speak with me?”

You cross your arms and lean against the cool wall and wonder why Luke’s dad is still in front of you. After all, he has to have better things to do than make conversation with a moping girl with a workload stacked to the heavens.

Hermes repeats your name slowly as if he’s memorizing the way it sounds coming off his lips, “You look a little lost. So much so that it made me take a moment here with you.”

“I’m right where I need to be unfortunately, so…thanks but no thanks.” He’s the god of many domains—finding lost things being one of them, good luck being another, among the others. He can feel—actually, he knows that you’re searching for something even if you yourself don’t know what it is. The force that summons him to you feels thick, like quicksand that pulls him in planting his winged feet to the ground. Hermes observes your standoffish attitude and wonders if he’s offended you somehow.

Pushing down the yearning you feel for his son who sits inside the marble doors, you wonder if it would’ve hurt less had Hermes not made your want known to you, an ugly, embarrassing thing that feels like a lump in your throat. His caduceus vibrates loudly in his pocket and with a sleight of hand it appears in front of him, clacking buttons. It’s annoying to be treated like an inconvenience, especially in a time of need. Like father, like son, you suppose.

But unfortunately he’s right. You’re a lost little thing, mind scrambled from this hellish week and where you left off with Luke. You want him with you in all senses of the term, both right now as you glare at his father and in the way one breathes air through their lungs—autonomic, because you simply can't help it. Hermes looks at you again, scratching at his ear as if everything about standing in front of you is making his ears ring, “Who do you belong to again?” He’s trying to remember where he’s seen you before. The sound of trumpets pierce your ears when the door opens again, this time Castor catching his breath as he calls your name, “Hey. Where’s the little pipsqueak? 7’s going on soon.” Everyone seems to know you except him.

How intriguing.

Rolling your eyes, you grumble, “Bathroom. Go back inside Cas.”

“See that’s the problem, Luke asked me where you are, should I tell him you’re…” The blond looks at who you’re speaking to and swallows, “busy?”

“That’s it. You’re Luke’s girl—” the frown that deepens on your face makes him pause, “I thought your name was Trouble?” The god looks even more confused, scratching his goatee—his son, through his nightly devotions, has asked for a lot of things from him in his short lifetime. The realization comes to the forefront of Hermes’ mind like a thumbtack pierced through a map as you respond.

“Sometimes.”

In the past year, Luke’s narrowed it down to two things: to guide him onto the right path in life and to make sure you live well enough to be on it with him. That’s what was sacred to him—but Hermes could only see himself fulfilling one of them, if we’re being honest here: an unfortunate trick of the trade.

You grimace—maybe being in there and facing Luke would be better than having this conversation with his deadbeat dad.

“Only with him,” Castor smirks, and you shove your brother towards the stairs to go find Will.

“How did you know that, anyway?”

Hermes chuckles, looking you up and down as if seeing you clearly for the first time, “His thoughts are even louder than yours. Even though he probably has nothing nice to say about me, he thinks about you all the time, that son of mine.”

“And what do you do then? Let it fall on deaf ears?”

“Listen, I’m not allowed to meddle,” he murmurs, a twitching hand ghosting over your shoulder. He wonders if can offer comfort —you know Luke better than the idea he has of him in his head, the glimpses of his son’s life that he’s allowed himself to see. You’ve been there these past few years to live it with him. Hermes swallows, retracting his arm to put it back against his side. The door swings open again—and it’s your father this time, cradling a wine glass that fills with ambrosia when he swirls it in his grasp.

“Kid, what’s the holdup—where’s the little sunspot and Thing 2?” Mr. D raises his glass with a grin, clapping his best friend on the back— “Hermes, my friend. Making a pit stop?”

This just got even weirder—your head starts to spin a bit.

Talk about a nightmare blunt rotation.

Between their lighthearted banter, Will and Castor skipping up the stairs towards you, and Pollux popping his head out of the doorway to yank the glass out of your dad’s hand (“SISSY! He’s drinking my musical instrument!”), you shut your eyes to center yourself. This might be the worst day of your life. Chaos becomes you and your blood is boiling at being surrounded by too many men when the only one you care about won’t even lo—

“Kid, you okay?”

Breathing heavily, you don’t realize you’ve clenched your hands into tight fists, and your dad doesn't know what to do. There's a thought that passes his mind as swiftly as his friend can scale the world that Luke would know what to do. Mr. D doesn't mean to, but he scoffs under his breath, shaking hand extending to reach out to an equally trembling shoulder and you flinch before it makes contact.

"M'fine, I just need a second to think."

Pressing your palms into the pits of your eyes, your father watches you inhale a breath that seems to calm the storm brewing in your core, even for a moment, “Cas, take Will inside for his cabin’s performance. D, next time, don’t touch things that aren’t yours,” you say calmly as you conjure another glass of water and hand it to Pollux, not before taking a few sips to steady your resolve and perfect the tone of the vibrations.

Sip.

Too sharp.

Sip.

Perfect.

Putting the now fully functional instrument of water in your brother’s hand, he happily walks back through the door and now you’re just left with two gods that look at you somewhat impressed.

“Can I help you with anything else, or are you both just going to waste my time?” Tapping your foot, your face is expressionless again, any previous traces of emotion wiped clean.

“Princess, you know you could talk—”

“Nope,” you protest, “Nothing’s wrong at all. Just ready to get this day over with.” It’s rude and to the point, but you have no patience left, “ and all offense D, I’m not gonna talk about my boy problems with you, and especially not you,” you grit pointing at Hermes, “neither of you would get it and I don’t even fully get it, and partially you two are the reason why we’re like this!”

“What did Luke do?” your dad says incredulously, eyebrows furrowing. He’s sobering up from the buckets of ambrosia he’s consumed—itching to find out about what the golden boy could ever do to agitate you like this.

The gods will never know what it feels like to love someone like this—every fiber of your mortal being constantly anticipating an end without knowing when that is. You sigh helplessly, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“I don’t know who I am without you, and he only knows who he is because of you,” spitting the words out like acid, you seethe, “we’re not exactly normal teenagers, you know, so thanks for that. I can handle it from here.”

And you push past the both of them and walk through the marble doors like nothing even happened.

"Makes sense he'd fall for her," Hermes mumbles, “your girl is a force to be reckoned with.” If not a bit insane like his best friend.

"Yeah. Just remember I can tear your boy limb from limb. Just because she can handle it doesn't mean she should. Pray your kid fixes it or fucks off. " It’s the truth—poor Penthus was just an example of Dionysus’ contradictory behavior. Ruthless punishments were like a walk in the park for your father. A jilted noise escapes Hermes's throat as if his own truth was trying to claw its way up his esophagus. The future of humanity rests on the shoulders of his favorite son, and for once, the messenger god is still---in fear? Guilt?

His thoughts are still trying to catch up with the rest of his body, but as he watches the door shut softly behind you, his winged shoes start to flap to signal his imminent departure.

“He's a good boy. He knows the worth of being loved by the right person at the right time. If he’s anything like me, he’ll cherish it while it lasts,” Hermes smiles as he fades from view, “and if he’s not like me at all—he’ll make sure it’s forever. But it looks like we’ll be in-laws, bestie!”

Mr. D groans, waving him off and conjuring another glass of ambrosia—when he walks in to rejoin everyone for the show, his boys are killing it on the musical glasses. He surveys the crowd, watching Luke Castellan only have eyes for you even in this dark crowded room.

“Shit.”

—

Nights on Olympus are prettier than what you’re used to. The stars are much closer than they would be if you were still on Earth, and they act as a natural nightlamp hanging over the enchanted ceiling of the ballroom you and your kids occupy for your one night stay. Yawning into your fist, you spot Charlie Beckendorf who’s already fallen asleep directly on top of his sleeping bag, sweatshirt on backwards and tennis shoes still on. Offering to take the last thirty minutes of his shift after watching him nod off earlier against a marble column while doing everything in your power to try to fall asleep was a no-brainer. But now that you were actually wanting to stay awake yourself, your eyelids didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

Figures. Nothing you ever wanted has ever happened the way you wished for.

Sleep pricks at the corner of your eyes like dust from a sandstorm—presumably Hypnos forcing a hand on you getting rest. Here on Olympus he’s only a few doors away, after all.You rub your knuckles into the sockets of your eyes quite unkindly, hoping it’ll do the job. Even blinking is taking an added effort.

Patting your own cheek lightly to stimulate your senses, you cross your arms and decide to take another lap around the room. The rubber of your boots clomp louder with every shaky step and—

Tap-tap. Tap. T-tap.

D is rapping his knuckles against one of the glass doors on the perimeter like he’s playing the drums.

“Shhhh!”

Arms outstretched, you slip past rows of sleeping children, narrowly missing stretched out arms and fallen backpacks as you glare at him, “Are you trying to wake up all of Olympus?”

He looks at you with amusement, rumpled clothing and looking like a tiny, angry raccoon. You must’ve forgotten to take off your eyeliner, but he doesn’t mention it.

He brandishes two cigarettes in his hand and nods toward a door he left ajar leading onto the sprawling, wrap-around patio. And you swear you start floating towards him like an enticed cartoon character—surely you’re dreaming.

Is there even a designated smoking area on Olympus?

“How long have you known?”

The words almost slur out of your mouth as you swipe at his fist like a man starved—Mr.D can’t tell what exactly you’re asking. He’s known you’ve smoked since he found ash in the windowsill of his office. He’d known you and Luke have been having problems since you both started to sit at the opposite sides of the room during counselor meetings. Some things about you are harder to catch onto than others, and Mr. D is known for always being a little late to the party.

Dionysus, the god, was a late arrival to the Pantheon. Him as a father, he’s often late to discerning the happenings in his daughter’s life. But he’s also known that boy has loved you long before he drunkenly stumbled onto his porch. Could smell it off of him— love makes people do crazy things after all. Out of all of your partners, he always thought the golden boy was just as bad—if not worse than you, gods willing. But you two were good kids, and the thought makes him chuckle, “I’ve always been able to read you, kiddo. I get there eventually.”

“Besides when I first showed up at your doorstep.”

“Shock of my life, actually. And that says a lot. You should be honored,” there’s a stupid smile on your father’s face now as he looks out onto the darkened horizon, glittering city lights on the floating mountain top. Olympus has changed in the years he’s been gone from it without him noticing. He looks over to you and realizes you have too—no longer fourteen with your hair sticky from Kool-aid, or multiple sun-tan tattoos. You always liked making a project out of your boredom.

Laughing gruffly—the base of your throat itches and you surface for air sounding like something being strangled. Blame it on the lack of sleep or teenage angst as he so aptly calls your temper tantrums, but he pulls you in to rub your back, leading you further down the walkway with a shushing, soothing coo as you whine, “What if this is the best I can be?”

“You’re nineteen, princess. A hell of a long way to go. To be honest, it gets worse as the years pass.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” you groan, smacking your head against the cool marble. “That's like a blink for you. For me it feels like I’m constantly getting off on the wrong foot. How do you do it?”

He sighs and looks at you—and all of a sudden you see your father’s age in the way he grimaces. Left to do the dirty work, the things the gods don’t want to talk about, meant to endure because every ion of his existence has reeked of resilience.

Because it’s what’s expected of him.

You see the resemblance now.

His wrinkles are prominent and eyebags are heavy when he doesn’t fortify the image of a silly asinine man as he lets it all melt away in front of you.

You light a cigarette and puff life into the lit end to burn the other one, breathing out and handing it over. Smoke billows around the two of you as you lean against the marble railing—-but nothing has ever been so clear. It rolls through your lungs, warming you inside and out. You lean your head against his shoulder.

“I think you could shake this whole place up if you wanted to. Never met a more stubborn kid in my life,” your dad mutters, jostling when you elbow him, “I mean it. For a lack of better words, you’re a once in a lifetime kind of girl.” He’s not looking at you, but the sentiment wavers in the air and settles slowly until you learn to appreciate it.

“You mean that?”

D has had a share of his own struggles, from being ejected from his mother and birthed from Zeus’ thigh, to being curb stomped by Hera herself, and of course the occasional trip to the Underworld. Suddenly your life pales in comparison.

“Get that look off your face and stop thinking so badly of yourself. Life is not a dress rehearsal—just give it your best. I'll be in the wings for as long as you need me,” he swallows, “If you want that. I’m the only one dealing with this prison sentence, anyway.”

“I would like that.”

The god scratches his neck before dragging his Birkenstocks toward the door, swiveling to point at you, “Get to bed. You've got an early morning tomorrow.”

“I know. Is that an order?”

“Yeah, twerp,” he mutters, lingering by the glass, “Quitting cold turkey is never fun. Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. I've always been more of the type to go and get it myself though.”

“Cold turkey,” you repeat, nodding distantly.

Letting go means to accept that you let it in. And if you’re not ready to let it go, fight for it.

For a bunch of wordweavers, you both suck at talking to each other. It must be an Olympus thing to talk in riddles, but you’ve never been deterred by a challenge. Your fragmented conversation means a lot more than he’ll ever know. With a newfound appreciation for your dad, you smile and take a few puffs of the cigarette, taking a seat against the wall to let everything sink in. The comfortable weight of nicotine in your lungs lulls you to sleep, a momentary reprieve from everything.

You swear you shut your eyes for just a second. Just a moment—to rest them a tiny bit.

And Luke slips out the glass doors in the other direction towards the throne room without you noticing.

When you wake up, it’ll all be over.

—

It’s snowing by the time Luke comes back. Biggest day of his life—something he’s been waiting for for months now, and it was just too goddamn easy.

And yeah, Luke understood that it is so irrevocably wrong to steal from the gods.

But then why was it so easy?

Of course, it was all thanks to you. You don’t know it, but you helped the pieces fall into their perfect places. Keeping you up last night with the fight and leaving you to your own devices all day kept you indifferent enough about him to not notice the smaller details—him switching the night shift schedule around to his liking and making you the only obstacle between him and the Master Bolt and the Helm of Darkness (well, Ares was too, but onto more important things).

Everything happens for a reason, right?

Getting on your last nerve has always been easy, and though he hates seeing you cry—it almost makes him feel guilty that there’s a certain thrill that soars through him when you two fight. You love him like how you argue, with an unbridled passion he loves to sink his teeth into.

And he loves you. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. So despite the tear in his side that makes him clench his teeth, his first objective after his completed mission is to sidle over to your slumped form with a smile. Luke slings his jacket over your body and wraps his arm to bring your head against his shoulder. The grounds are weather-protected like at camp, yet a few stray snowflakes still catch onto your hair. You stir, “Lu?”

“I’m here. Not leaving you.”

If salvation could manifest itself into something akin to human form, perhaps it would still look like a god. Being saved is a feeling unfamiliar to Luke—the only person he was always sure could save your ass was himself. But he wants this, you nestled against him for as long as you want, until his arms ache and pins and needles ravage his body. Luke knows he would crawl to the ends of this earth and the next if it means he’ll be with you.

Gambling with fate will be worth it if he can find a way to make this love last forever.

This has to work. You did what you had to do, he thinks.

Sniffing, he kisses your forehead and his jacket faintly smells of smoke. Snowflakes dot his eyelashes and he rubs your arms to make sure you’re warm, “Let you sleep longer. Looks like you needed it.”

“How long have I been asleep?” you say groggily. His thumbs wipe at your eyelids gently with the hem of a fresh shirt, “Don’t worry. I took care of everything.”

It makes him grimace, emotional manipulation and a quick escape—hello Hermes!

“I’m tired, Luke.”

He sighs, and you turn to him, the both of you knee to knee, slowly being illuminated by a blanket of cool toned hues from the rising sun, “I know. Let me make it better, baby.”

Wistfully, you tangle your fingers with his in the space between you as if sealing a vow.

”Every future I envision includes you with me. I need you to know that.”

Overwhelmed by the events of the night, hell, these past few months—Luke starts to cry. A single rivulet cascading on the cheek adjacent to his scar and you catch it by pressing your lips to his jaw.

“Could you still love me?”

Inching closer, he feels as if you’re not close enough even when you’re breathing against the nape of his neck like this and you mumble, “You’re saying that like I ever stopped, angel.” The line blurs with each breath he takes—to earn a spot to walk amongst the gods, to live a completely ordinary life, or to be stuck in the strawberry fields of Delphini Farms forever. Luke was never awarded the privilege to want for himself before he met you, the absolution to all his wrongdoings. He can feel the quaking of your jaw under his fingertips as he slowly turns you to face him and all you have left to give him is a shattered breath.

“No matter what?”

Pressing his lips to yours as an apology feels like being saved. Lightly, until he pours himself into it and you relent, until the only thing that matters to you is that he’s with you now. Luke would merge your souls right now if he could—a tangled mess of eight limbs and head to head and everything is as it should be.

“Even if you don’t sit with me on the bus,” you smirk. He scoffs, kissing you harder and locking his lips with yours feverishly before resting much gentler ones against your tired eyes, “Oh don’t worry. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Trouble.”

A new day breaks on the horizon the longer you stay out there. But he takes these last final moments and keeps them under lock and key for safekeeping. You leave Olympus in a few hours, and by then there’ll be no time for regrets—his perfect crime with his perfect partner.

—

"I weep because you cannot save people. You can only love them." -Hanya Yanagihara

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #trouble!verse #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

159 notes · View notes