#sorry guys I just need to get this off my chest

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | Joel doesn't have a Mrs. but he does have a sports car.

author's note | @chaotic-mystery made me listen to sports car and i said you know what? yeah. this one's especially feral, sorry in advance.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, no outbreak au, girthy age gap, car talk, sad hot grieving dads gone wild, daddy kink, more specifically daddy issues, mutual mas, no touch rules, cum eating, pure filth

word count — 5k

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

Your tongue rolls over your teeth inside of your mouth as you stare with folded arms, phone clutched tightly in your hand as you wait eagerly for your driver to arrive and get you the hell out of here.

“Stunning,” You offer a forced smile, watching as your date lingered around the old car, pristine and well-cared for, an unattainable feat for such an immature man-child like himself.

It was the last time you were allowing your friends to set you up on a blind date, nearing the point of swearing off dating entirely, knowing that a man who couldn’t even cover half the check wasn’t driving around in a classic Pontiac, let alone affording the upkeep for it.

“Sure you don’t wanna change your mind?” He asks eagerly, the subtle admiration of the car waning as he comes into view, knowing the old beater a few spots down was surely his.

The bells above the convenience store next door jingle as people enter and exit, taking another impatient glance at your phone. You watch as the boy takes a seat against the hood and it makes you cringe internally, swallowing your words as an even deeper voice interjects from behind.

“I’ll give you about three seconds to get your ass of my hood,” The older man threatened, spinning the keys in his palm as he set the six pack of beer on the roof, the younger kid scrambled to his feet instantly, “—is he botherin’ you?”

“Unfortunately,” You mumble as you take another glance at your phone and curse under your breath, watching the unmoving dot on the screen.

“Get outta here, kid,” The mystery man barks, “looks like you already ruined her night and I don’t need some runt like you fuckin’ up my car.”

You both watch as he sulks to his car, just as you suspected, your lips pulling into a thin line to stifle the laugh that built in your chest, feeling lighter for the first time that night.

“Does that happen often?” You ask curiously, watching as he fiddled with his door before the lock popped and the door swung open, the six pack of beer carefully placed in the passenger seat as he rose back up to answer your question, hands curled around the edge of the roof.

“Ever since I fixed her up,” He pauses, recollecting, “probably a once a week ordeal. They’re easy to run off, fortunately. You waitin’ on something?”

“My ride,” You wobble your phone back and forth weakly and Joel squints, shaking his head as he winces at the guttural backfire of the engine in the car behind him, the final memory of your absolutely awful date as he disappears down the road.

“Kid had a car and couldn’t even bother to pick you up or take you home?” He asks curiously, strangely not unsettled by his openness to conversation given his gruff exterior, “Some nerve.”

“It was a blind date,” You shrug, “My friends they—”

“Those ain’t friends,” He interrupts politely, “if they set you up with a guy like that.”

“Well, maybe—” Your words linger, shifting from foot to foot as the conversation dies out and your feet begin to ache, the summer heat making you uncomfortable, the silk fabric of your dress sticking to your skin as you wipe at your damp cheek and push your hair behind your ear.

“Hop in,” He tells you, stooping into his car as he closes the door, his waiting gaze staring up at you through the window, “I can give you a ride.”

“I…don’t know,” You answer uneasily, “I don’t even know you.”

“I’m Joel,” He answers almost immediately, “I’m not a genius but I figure you had a shitty date, no sense in you paying for a ride home if I can offer one. Chivalry ain’t that dead, sweetheart.”

You offer him your name quietly, approaching the car with some hesitation. 

He seemed like an honest enough man, swooping in like a knight in shining armor.

You’ve given worse men a fairer chance—so, fuck it.

–

“My dad had a car like this,” You perk up after a few minutes, the glass bottles clinking against each other from where they sat by your feet, between your legs, “not a ‘67—was a ‘69.”

“You know your shit?” Joel asks curiously, his left hand settled over the top of the steering wheel while his right was settled against the gear shift, “He teach you about ‘em?”

Oddly, conversation with Joel was easy. A similar interest, neither of you with any room to judge one another. Equals.

“I pestered him alot,” You admit, “I was supposed to end up with it but he sold it before he died. God, what I wouldn’t give—”

“She is a beaut,” Joel admits, giving a soft tap to the dashboard, “and a labor of love.”

“She? What’s her name?” You ask knowingly, the slightest hint of a smirk on your face.

He spoke so fondly of the car, as if it breathed life into him. It wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

“Sarah,” He offers up more subdued, but a soft smile graces his face for a brief moment, “s’long story, doesn’t matter.”

“My dad named his Jameson,” You say suddenly in an attempt to add some levity, “funny, since my dad was an alcoholic…”

Okay, maybe not funny, but Joel gives you a pity chuckle anyways. 

Luckily, your nervous admittance is quickly looked over.

“So, where’m I takin’ you?”

You chew at your bottom lip and glance sheepishly at Joel.

“Um…UT?”

“Goddamn, that’s like—”

“An hour away, yeah,” You sigh, “I won’t be upset if you want to stop at the next gas station, I have the money for a ride, it isn’t that big of a—”

“I’m about five minutes up the road,” Joel begins, fingers flexing lazily ahead as they raise from the steering wheel, “I’ve got a spare room, I can take you up there in the morning.”

“You’re a total stranger, you know?”

“There’s a motel just a ways up,” Joel suggested with ease.

Though as you approach it looks bleak, the fluorescent lights blinking overhead and a glaring spot for much more nefarious activity with the perfectly placed strip club across the road, feeling the car pull to a slow stop.

“I…think I’ll take you up on that spare room,” You stutter out.

Joel nods, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he shifts gears and pulls back onto the road. 

The flickering neon lights of the seedy motel fade in the rearview mirror.

“That place ain't fit for anyone, let alone a young lady like yourself."

“I’m not young,” You retort, ‘I’m twenty-three.”

“And I’m as old as this car,” Joel retorts, watching your face scrunch up in thought as you did the mental math in your head before he puts you out of your misery, “I’m fifty-eight, sweetheart.”

Pushing sixty? Big deal.

You’ve had older professors flirting with you inappropriately on a weekly basis, at least Joel was being polite and kind and not at all as sleazy as most men, at least, not yet.

You stare at him without his knowledge, his eyes focused intently on the road. He’s rugged, facial hair thick and unevenly covering his face, plush lips parting as his tongue swiped along his bottom lip, a permanent scowl on his rather softened expression. 

He’s devastatingly attractive. 

And there’s something about him that comforts you, a remnant of protection despite the unconventional circumstance of finding yourself in a stranger’s care after a terrible date on the way to an unfamiliar place.

Eventually, the car slows, rumbling into a small cul de sac with four other houses surrounding his own, certainly picturesque and not what you would suspect from a man like him. He cuts the engine dead as he pulls into his driveway and wordlessly leans his body over the center console, a hand snaking between your spread legs as he reaches for the six-pack of beer.

“Home sweet home,” He jokes lightly, “C’mon.”

With trepidation and a sudden heat to your face as he peers up at you for a moment while his hand is settled between your thighs, you nod.

Please don’t be a fucking serial killer, you think. 

A silent prayer said to anyone that would listen.

-

He’s a perfect gentleman, fortunately. 

Joel gives you a short tour, displaying the spare room at the end of the hall, an attached bathroom and plenty of escape routes—he seems to sense the unease still as it lingers.

“You said twenty-three, right?” He double checks, “You want a beer? Or water? I got some soda, too.”

“Beer is fine,” You answer with a nod, turning on your heels to follow him back down the hall and toward the kitchen, watching as Joel flicked on the overhead light above the kitchen island and pulled two beers from the cardboard casing.

He pops the caps off with ease before he’s pushing the beer into your hand and taking a sip of his own, leading you toward the dining room as he pulls out a chair for you and him, a comfortable distance as his legs spread out when he sits, the glass resting against his denim covered knee.

“So your daddy, he taught you a lot about cars?”

“How to take care of ‘em,” You explain, “What’s good, what’s shit. I’ve got a soft spot for the classics, you know? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like them fast, too.”

“Smart girl,” Joel notes, but then he lingers for a moment and watches as you sip gingerly at your beer, “I’m curious—and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but what happened back there? Other than that kid makin’ a complete ass of himself?”

The comment should not make your insides twist the way they do, a faint throb between your legs that you hide with a cough and another long sip, “He’s just…not great. And the gesture was there, he tried paying for the date, but then his card declined and, well…”

“Sounds like a real winner,” He mocks, taking a hefty sip before the liquid is gone, sliding the empty glass along the dinner table.

“He’s not my type, anyways,” You shrug, finishing off your own beer and mirroring his actions, watching as he silently grabbed the bottles and stood up, disposing of them in the nearby trash.

Joel makes an unintelligible noise as he shakes his head, “And what exactly would that be?”

You hum thoughtfully, “A V8 engine for starters, some real hefty horsepower, a nice spacy interior,”

“Damn, just my type,” Joel plays along, “I like that you know your shit—you savin’ up for one?”

A car, he means.

 Given that you were attempting to find a ride home, it seemed like a valid question.

“Trying, sure.” You shrug nonchalantly, “It’s more of a dream anymore, college isn’t exactly the cheapest.”

A beat passes as Joel slips back into his seat and you pull your bare feet up into the chair, curling your arms around your knees loosely before you speak again.

“Serious answer—I don’t date boys my age ever. I was only entertaining it because my friends wouldn’t shut up about it. They’re usually older; thirties, forties. You can judge me—I get it.”

“Ain’t nothing to judge,” Joel shrugs, “You like what you like.”

“And you?”

Joel laughs at that, looking away briefly as you smile, poking his thigh with your foot as he thinks for a moment, eyes dragging toward the floor.

“I’m too old for that shit—ain’t nothing for me.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” You tell him honestly, knowing that most of the girls would be ripping each other’s throats out for a moment with him, the perfect amount of mysterious and dark, a hint of southern gentleman in the way he carries himself, a total fucking smoke show.

You knew just how deadly you’d be vying for a chance with him.

And here he was, like an offering plopped right into your lap.

Besides, you were having a bad night, what else did you have to lose?

“That so?” Joel seemed to be testing the waters too, a playfulness in his eyes that was deeply subdued but there, simmering. He wasn’t going to try anything unless you initiated, lucky for him, you were more than eager by now.

“Oh, I know so,” You nod with confidence, “Nice car—you got that whole dark and mysterious thing going for you and you’re hot, s’not like I’m blind, Joel.”

“Is there somethin’ you’re gettin’ at, sweetheart?” Joel asks curiously.

You shrug, a mischievous grin crossing your face.

You’ve had plenty of one night stands; terrible dates with half-decent sex.

You spent two hours getting ready, another getting to dinner, and you’d be damned to waste such a good opportunity when it presented itself.

“I had a shit night and you’ve already managed to make it better,” You admit, “I’m just sayin’ as a thank you, we could—”

“I’m not askin’ for a thank you, sweetheart,” His voice is immediately softer, alluring.

His brow twitches as you lock eyes, like a moment of consideration crosses his mind, large palms splayed out against even larger thighs, the type that made you curious.

He had the body of a man well-worked; a mix of someone who’s aged with grace and maintained his lifestyle through work, broad shoulders that begged to be explored, stretching as he fidgeted in his chair.

“If I told you I wanted you to fuck me, would you?”

Joel speaks your name aloud and you smile sheepishly, though he knows it was an act, feeling a little braver with a few shots of liquid courage from earlier in the night and a beer to loosen your nerves further.

You were staring at the veins in his hands now, calloused fingers rubbing at a soft, flayed spot in his jeans, right above the knee, tanned skin hiding underneath. 

“It’s not a question of would I, honey. I can’t.”

So, he would.

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“I’m gonna save you the regret—besides, I got a few rules for myself, and if not allowing myself to touch you when we just met is one of ‘em, I think that’s fair.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You goad, feet dropping slowly to the ground between his widened legs, “Do you want me to touch you? Is that against the rules?”

Joel knows there’s no benefit in lying.

“‘Course I think you’re pretty but you sure got a mouth,” Joel comments, fingers flexing against his thigh as he leans back in his chair, letting out a long breath through his nose as he peers over at you, “I’m willin’ to do a lot more than touch, sweetheart. But, not like this, not tonight.”

“I’m not drunk,” You defend, “C’mon, Joel. I got all dressed up tonight and I’m askin’,”

Half a second short of begging.

“Sweetheart,” He warns, “M’not gonna,”

“Then touch yourself,” You encourage, “let me watch.”

“Now, what makes you think—”

Your straps droop down your shoulders, one adjustment short of your breasts spilling out of your dress as your head nods toward his subtle adjustment between his legs, pulling slightly at the denim suffocating his growing erection.

He’s got a beautiful girl presenting herself to him, one more no away from dropping to her knees to wallow, lips parted as you breathed out softly, thighs separating so far that Joel catches the quickest glimpse of your thin panties, nearly see-through with how wet you were, your hands squeezing at the fabric near the end of your dress like a nervous tic.

Joel wasn’t blind either.

“You were going to do it after I went to sleep, weren’t you?

“You’re stubborn as hell, girl—”

“I bet it’s big,” You throw from left-field, a smirk growing on your face, “I love sucking cock, Joel. It’s my favorite thing—s’not a rule break, right? If I touch you and you keep your hands to yourself? Do you want me on my knees? Wanna see what I look like with your cock in my mouth?”

His jaw clenches, watching the muscle strain underneath his skin as he clears his throat.

“Don’t be shy—”

“I”m not shy.”

Then?

Your eyebrows raise in question, your dress pulling slowly up your thighs, legs widening with the movement before Joel finally relents, the deafening sound of his zipper pulling a soft giggle from your chest as you wiggle with excitement.

Joel's hand hesitates for a moment before he reaches into his pants, shoving them far enough down his thighs, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly pulls out his hardening cock, watching him swell in the loose grip of his palm. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of it—thick and veiny, an easy seven inches, a heavy set of balls to match as his fingers roll along the tight skin and up, his fingers drifting featherlight over his cock.

“This what you wanted?” Joel asks, low and throaty, a strain to his tone.

You nod eagerly, bottom lip pulling between your teeth as your hands settle beside you, gripping the chair so hard it creaks, legs spread wide instinctually, making room for him despite his distance, your dress slipping far enough down your chest that your breasts were on display.

Soft peaks, nipples hardened in the cool air, your chest rising with slow breaths as you arch yourself forward slightly, his hand keeping a slow, teasing pace as his thumb drags over the thick head and against the slit.

Your eyes flicker between Joel’s face and his tight grip around his cock, watching as he strokes himself with slow intent, belt jingling with the movement as he pushes his shirt up with the other hand, his own eyes trading between different parts of your body.

He’d suckle at your skin if he could, trail his tongue from mouth to cunt, have you a shaking, sobbing mess if he allowed himself the luxury, but he was a man wallowing in his own self-made torture and the energy in the air was palpable, thick with tension.

“Closer,” He groans out lowly, nodding his head in a jerky motion as his free hand beckons you near, “Spread your legs, sweetheart—lemme see you.”

You give him far more than he asks, standing slowly before you’re hooking your fingers in the fabric at your hips and pulling down, letting the damp fabric drop to your feet before you’re leaning down to pick it up, tossing your panties into Joel’s lap before you return to your seat.

One foot propped against the chair, your dress bunches at your hips, giving him a perfect view of your glistening cunt as you spread your fingers through your folds, a teasing touch.

Blindly, Joel grabs at the fabric and wraps it around his cock, like a vice, he squeezes tight.

Joel's eyes darken, pupils dilating as he takes in the sight before him. His grip tightens around your panties, the damp fabric adding a new, chest-tightening sensation as he strokes himself harder. A low groan escapes his lips, his gaze fixed on your fingers as they tease through your slick folds.

“You too scared to fuck a college girl?” You tease him, “‘Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Smart ass mouth, girl,” He gripes, “S’like your daddy never taught you any manners.”

“Oh, ‘cause I’m sure you could’ve,” You reply flippantly, gasping as your finger catches along your fluttering hole, a groan rumbling deep in Joel’s chest as he jerks his cock.

“I ain’t your daddy,” He reminds you.

You shake your head nonchalantly, “No you’re not. Could–could be, though. “What do you want? For me to pout and call you daddy?”

“Careful,” he warns, his voice rough with desire, “That’s a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

You hum at the words, a faint flutter in your chest.

If you stopped to think about what was happening you would psych yourself out completely, so you lean back further, arching yourself forward as you slide two fingers inside yourself. "I don’t mind playing," you moan, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before locking back onto Joel’s.

Joel's breath catches in his throat, his hand faltering for a moment as he watches you sink your fingers deeper into your wet cunt, the soft squelch paired with your innocent sounds.

He scowls as he squeezes his shaft, “Christ, girl,” He grunts, “Tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?”

You shake your head impishly, “Temptin’ you,” You admit, “Is it working?”

“You know damn well,” Joel says tensely, forcing the words through his teeth as his fingers slide up and squeeze at the head of his cock, precum slick against his fingers as he uses it to add to the friction, his eyes roaming hungrily over your body, “fuckin’ look at you, so goddamn eager.”

“That right, daddy?” You ask breathily, giggling with the word as Joel looks like he could explode, his other hand cupping his balls to keep him busy, knowing if he lingered with his thoughts for too long he’d fuck you into the chair without an ire of hesitation, his eyes close as his head leans back.

“Is that what you need? Someone carin’ for you?” He asks, “Is that why you’re actin’ out?”

The way his hand moves against his cock is mesmerizing, the flex of his wrist as he jerks his cock in a practiced manner, something he undoubtedly does weekly, squeezing his sack gently in his hand as his chest rumbles quietly.

“Eyes up, sweetheart,” He chastises, “I’m askin’ you a question, answer it.”

You nod weakly, a frown forming on your face as you whimper, the softest graze of your fingertip over your clit as your body spasms, gasping at the feeling.

“Words, ‘hon,” He encourages, his own voice wavering slightly.

“Y—yes,” You answer quickly.

Joel chuckles deeply, “S’good. Good girl, sweetheart. You wanna spread those legs for daddy then?” 

Obediently, they do, presenting your glistening cunt to him as you fingers slip out, wet with slick and Joel licks at his bottom lip, mouth watering at the sight.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” He murmurs endearingly, a slight smirk stretching across his face at the sight, “—won’t even touch you and you’re mess, been like that since you got in my car, huh?”

You nod weakly, sighing as your fingers circle lazily over your clit.

“Taste ‘em,” He encourages, “clean ‘em up.”

Your fingers, he means.

Like some magnetic pull, you find your fingers pressing against your tongue without thinking and the tangy sweetness melts against your tongue, his breath shuddering as you licked your fingers clean, cunt pulsing with need, silently pleading for Joel.

His eyes narrow, darkening with lust as his hand speeds up around his cock, obscene sounds matching his heady words, neck straining as he grunts, “That’s it, sweetheart. Listenin’ to your daddy—M’fuck—fuckin’ close.”

Through your bleary haze, you nod with the same sentiment, speaking softly, “Metoometoo—”

His movements are more fumbling, quick and furious jerks of his cock that still at the head as he squeezes, his face scrunching up in a mix of frustration and desperation, trying harder than he’s ever had to not shoot his load too soon.

“Yeah? Show me,” He encourages, goading as his unoccupied hand twists into his shirt and hastily pulls it up and over his head, “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

They spread impossibly wider, your hand reaching behind your head to grip onto the chair as your ass slips near the edge, circling your fingers over your clit without much precision, knowing that one more word from his mouth and you’d be drooling all over the seat.

“So fuckin’ desperate, look at you,” He demeans, “Poor little girl with daddy issues, huh?”

You moan shakily, avoidant of his obviously goading question, eyes fluttering closed as your orgasm crept in slow, mumbling out the words without even thinking, “Please—please can I—daddy, can I—”

“S’alright, we’ll fix that,” Joel comments softly, his voice a low growl, “Go on, sweetheart, come for me.”

The feeling is instant, his permission all you need to melt over the edge, legs shaking through the mind-numbing sensation your climax brings, chest tightening as you gasp, fingers working frantically over your clit as Joel’s name slips from your mouth.

Distantly, you hear him groan, his orgasm overtaking him at the sight of you writhing in your chair, spilling over his tight fist as thick, milky ropes of cum spread across his chest and down the underside of his cock, his eyes falling shut. 

As your breathing slows, your thighs pull together, shrinking impossibly small into the chair in a sudden overwhelming feeling of shame. Shame that you had shared an intimate moment like this with a man you barely knew all because you had a terrible night and shame over how easily he had made you come, like it was natural.

Despite the obvious, Joel doesn’t miss a beat.

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face and he beckons you forward. Finally.

“On your knees, sweetheart,” He instructs as your body moves without much protest, sliding to the floor as your dress pools at your hips, not amiss to the way Joel’s eyes follow the subtle bounce of your breasts as you move between his spread legs, his erection flagging but your tongue peeks out eagerly, licking at the head of his cock as your hands curls around his calves for support, “S’not—hey,” He hisses, “you were listenin’ so good until now.”

He’s salty and sweet, a taste so inviting that you needed more. It made your mouth water, tongue swiping against your bottom lip as your eyes fell on the opaque liquid covering his stomach.

Unfortunately, he still wouldn’t touch you.

He runs a hand through his hair while the other rests against the table, balled into a fist as you shake your head shyly, removing your hands from his legs.

“Sor—sorry,” You stutter, uncertainty evident in your voice.

Joel’s eyebrows raise, an unspoken bond quickly forming between you both.

“Try again.

“M’sorry, daddy—what can—,” You gulp audibly, fidgeting nervously with the silk fabric at your waist, “how can I make it up to you?”

Joel glances down at his stomach, still covered in cum as he breathes, watching the liquid drop down his skin and to his softening cock, still intimidatingly large even as it rests against his thigh, “Why don’t you clean me up? Can you do that?”

You nod eagerly, darting forward immediately as your tongue glided along his skin, into the small patch of hair above his groin and to his belly button, hearing Joel groan as the chair creaks with his shifting weight, struggling against his own forced restraint as you lick the cooled cum off his skin, eyes flicking up to look at him, dangerously innocent.

A facade, he knows. But, he’s in fucking trouble.

“That’s it,” Joel coos, “Clean me up good, baby.”

You giggle softly, dragging the tip of your tongue along the last bit of his cum before you drag up the center, barely reaching his face before you pull away, a soft huff of breath hitting you in the face as Joel shakes his head and chuckles, looking away from you briefly.

“Still not gonna touch me?” You tease him, quietly pulling your dress back up your body and over your shoulders, fingers adjusting the strap as he turns back to look at you.

“I’m tryin’ to be respectful here, sweetheart. And you’re makin’ it damn near impossible.”

Your brow furrows in a mix of confusion and amusement, “Respectful? You call that respectful, Joel? Oh—” You clear your throat and pull your bottom lip between your teeth, batting your lashes, “M’sorry, I mean, daddy.”

“Careful,” Joel warns, “You still have an hour in the car with me in the morning.”

You nod, slowly rising to your feet as you adjust your dress down your body, smoothing it out over your curves as your hands rest naturally behind your back, loosely as they curl together.

“Mmm, no,” You retort, a playful glint in your eyes, “I think you should be worried about me.”

“Is that right, sweetheart?” He mocks, hardly believing your faux confidence against him.

“Or, you could just let me drive?” You attempt playfully, a full belly chuckle erupting from Joel.

“I mean,” Joel shrugs, his voice trailing.

Breaking his rule for a moment, the hand ruffling through his hair trails toward your thigh, curling around the bare skin for a brief moment, sliding up until his fingers grazed against the curve of your ass and your bare pussy underneath, your panties resting near his fist on the table, a keepsake.

“Gotta reward my good girl, don’t I?”

[rosegolden13]

TF-141's favorite cuddle positions!!

Simon wants you to sleep on top of him. No, you won’t crush him, don’t be ridiculous. He just needs you as close as possible, in contact in as many places as physically manageable. The steady weight of you on his chest doesn’t necessarily help with his constant insomnia but it doesn’t hurt either. At least, he’s awake and comfortable instead of awake and miserable. His heavy arms will press you closer into him, his chin grazing the top of your head as you sleep on his chest. Luckily for you, he’s scarily good at staying still so you’ll sleep soundly even if sleep doesn’t find him nearly as easily.

Soap will 1000% use your tits as a pillow. I’m so sorry but it’s so true and you can’t convince me otherwise. It’s his favorite place to rest his head. He’ll mumble to you sleepily, turning his head deeper into your chest until you can’t even hear him just feeling the vibration of his words against you. If you try to tell him you’re too sore, he’ll whine and get all pouty on you. Honestly, you should just let him because it’s a win-win: you don’t have to listen to his whining and he’ll actually stay still for once while he sleeps so you won’t wake up freezing with the blankets (and likely Soap) on the floor. Honorable mention: he’d also love to rest his head in your lap or your tummy. Do we see a pattern? He likes using you as a pillow.

Gaz is a classic kind of guy. He wants you as his little spoon, tucked into his side as close as he can hold you. Your back is pressed against his chest, ass pressed into his hips, and legs tangled up together. This way his nose can rest in your hair and take in the subtle fragrance of your shampoo. His arm is locked around your stomach, elbow nestled around your hip, large hand splayed over your soft tummy. It’s nearly impossible to get up unless he lets you up- good luck. And he will playfully wrestle you into position so don’t even bother. He could use half his strength and still have you snug against him, no issues.

Price wants you cuddled into his side, using his shoulder as a pillow while his arm rests on the curve of your waist. He always wants you to face him so he can sneak little morning and good night kisses easily, the scruff of his beard rubbing against your cheek. This man gives off an unnatural amount of heat so, he’ll blast the air conditioning in the summer, heedless of the electricity bill, to make sure you’ll still want to snuggle with him. You both sleep better that way anyways. Once he’s settled into a leave, he’ll sleep like a log but if he’s just gotten back from a long deployment, expect him to wake at your slightest movement. Honorable mention: he loves falling asleep with you on his lap in his favorite recliner, probably snoring right in your ear.

Sorry if you're looking for a part 2 to my little drabbles!! I just have no clue where to go with it because I did not plan on expanding it... so take this instead LOL

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris): Epilogue

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons. also, this chapter contains some (implicit) references to sex.

genre: social media au (with written parts), angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

[A/N: hehe it's never really over, this is for my bff who just got engaged over the weekend <3]

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

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June, 2027

[Excerpt from Y/N L/N's Buzzfeed Playing with Puppies Interview]

Y/N is sitting down on the floor, enthusiastically chatting to someone off camera. “Listen Roz I’m so serious, you’re going to have to physically incapacitate me when I want to take them all home. It will happen, and you will need to stop me.”

Someone from the crew giggles, as they instruct Y/N to readjust her lavalier microphone.

“Alright, so it’s super easy – you just sit there, and we bring the pups to you!”

“Oh my god. This is my dream. I always say to my friends that I’d just really love to be in a puppy pile, and it’s finally happening. The pinnacle of my career. This is why I became a singer,” she chatters, then gasps as the first puppies are brought out.

“Oh hiiii,” she almost whimpers at the sight of them, some a little more active, others a little sleepy. One immediately snuggles into her lap, and Y/N looks off-camera to someone meaningfully. “I am taking him home.” Someone can be heard laughing and saying “no, you can’t” in response, to which Y/N sighs in defeat.

“So, can you tell us who you are, and what you do”

“My name’s Y/N L/N, and I’m a singer-songwriter. But today I’m a professional puppy cuddle buddy.”

“Here’s your first question – you mentioned recording a song in Taylor Swift’s studio for the Prophecy. What does it look like?”

“Oh my – oh they smell so good I swear, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear a word you said.” The interviewer repeats the question, as Y/N tries really hard to maintain eye contact with them instead of the puppies roaming around her.

“It’s a really beautiful space, a sanctuary, really. And it’s just amazing to think that so many iconic songs and albums have been partially written and recorded there as well. Taylor is a wonderful friend to have in this industry, and – oh just look at this little guy. He’s so cute!!!”

“Second question: You’re in the middle of a world tour right now. What was your own first tour that you remember going to?”

“Oh look at this one, he’s just playing around, such a little goofball. Sorry, sorry – the question. My first concert? You know it was probably some type of children’s act? My parents aren’t super into music, so the first time I went to see someone and paid for the ticket myself, it was probably Taylor actually.”

“Third question: You said you’re into reading. What’s your latest recommendation?”

“I try to read, yeah! It’s so easy to get sucked into my phone, but I always bring books and an e-reader. Oof, careful little guy, those tiny teeth are sharp,” she disentangles her finger from a puppy’s mouth, then hugs him close to her chest and kisses his head. “I love you, don’t worry. So, yeah, what was I saying? I think with reading I’m always in two minds about it. I enjoy literary fiction, but I also love fantasy. So I recently started There Are Rivers in the Sky from Elif Shafak, and then I’ve been re-reading the Fourth Wing series by Rebecca Yarros. Love that dragon. Maybe we should name you Tairn, or Xaden,” Y/N points at a puppy with dark fur and brown eyes.

“Do they all have names already? All of them are up for adoption, right? But surely these personalities – ah okay. His name’s Lewis?” She smiles cheekily, but doesn't comment further.

One of the dogs lets out a pitiful little whine, and Y/N immediately looks down. “What’s up little pup? Are you unhappy? Can we get them some water, some snacks?”

Someone steps in with a bowl of water, then asks the next question. “What’s something you do to relax on your days off?”

“Hmm aside from reading? Honestly, I love to just hang out with my family. Go do minigolf, something fun together.”

“Not actual golf?”

Y/N snorts, her fingers absentmindedly petting the puppies that have since fallen asleep in her lap. “My partner has tried to get me into it, and I love how much he enjoys it, but it’s not for me. So I’ll happily drive the golf cart and cheer him on instead.”

“Are you not competitive?”

You scrunch your nose at the word. “I think I am, but I’m more scared of others thinking I’m not good enough – so then I abandon serious pursuit of victory. If it’s just a laugh, then it’s fine if you’re not great at something. It’s something I’m working on!”

She kisses one of the pups that’s woken up from its nap on his tiny nose. “I love you, you, you’re such a tiny little angel aren’t you?”

“Alright, next question: If you were in an emergency situation, who would you call to bail you out?”

“Probably Lando. He’d be fast, you know?” Y/N smiles at the camera. “By the way, he’s going to be SO jealous of me for getting to hang out with pups all day.”

“If you weren’t a singer-songwriter, what do you think you’d be doing?”

“Hmm, I’d probably have gone to university – maybe literature, or maybe political science. Then I’d go work for an NGO? I’d love to know I was making a difference in people’s lives I think.”

“Last question – what are you most looking forward to?”

“Aside from the new, upgraded tour? I can’t believe I’ll be playing stadiums. That feels very surreal. Apart from that, we’re getting some renovations done on the house right now and I’m super excited to see my library fantasy come to life. I want to have a ladder on wheels.”

You quietly stroke the fur of a red and white puppy that’s been curled up in your lap since the beginning. “I’m going to cry having to give these back. But I’m going to, I will. It’d be irresponsible to adopt a dog right now, maybe next year we’ll get on that. Please, if you are able and willing, adopt these sweet little puppies – and I will personally come by and hangout with your pup and you.”

The screen fades to black, and then there’s a shaky camera that follows Y/N as she laughs while talking on the phone. “I know! I said you would,” she’s overheard saying. “There’s one in particular, I just – ” she trails off, listening to whatever’s being said on the other end of the line. “Do you really think so?” Her smile widens. “I love you so much, you have no idea,” she nods excitedly at her assistant and starts walking towards the animal shelter representative. “Yeah I’ll keep you posted, say hi from me to your brother and Sav please. Ok, see you. Bye.”  

August 14th, 2027

December 8th, 2027

June 18th, 2028

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You can read the previous parts & access various bonus content by going here

♥ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

taglist (open) : @charlesgirl16, @linnygirl09, @hoeforsirius, @motorsportloverf1, @sarx164, @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff, @formulaal, @tvdtw4ever @sadiemack9 @seonghwaexile @screamingwines

[gabbytvclarke]

pls could you do one where r doesn’t drink- maybe because of childhood or something else, and is worried what the boys (like the Arthurs, Chris, batch) will think, but George just supports and loves her? comfort and fluff omg 💔

I love this idea, sorry it took so long to come out! ____________________

Party Pooper // George Clarke

• Summary: George and Chris throw a surprise homecoming party for Arthur Hill, but y/n is nervous about being pressured to drink. • Pairing: Boyfriend!George Clarke x female!reader • Angst and fluff • Warnings: crying, trauma, alcohol • Word count: 2,167 words

♥���♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

She flicks through Netflix on her boyfriend’s TV, her free hand grips her thigh to stop it from bouncing. Struggling to concentrate on picking a film, her mind races with the thoughts of tomorrow’s party. George and Chris are planning a homecoming party for Arthur Hill, following his recent tour. Naturally, the party is at their shared flat and of course, y/n is invited.

Chris is visiting his family at the moment, planning to return in the evening, so y/n and George have had the place to themselves the past couple of days. Not enough noise to block our her worries. George returns from the bathroom, having seemingly found a couple of packets of balloons on the route back to the sofas. His eyes are furrowed as he counts how many are in each bag, ensuring the amounts match the numbers listed on the front.

“Still not decided on a movie yet?” He asks casually as he briefly glances to the TV.

“Hm? Oh, no not yet.” Y/n replies quietly, gazing towards the floor.

“I know I’ve asked this already this morning, but are you sure you’re OK? You don’t seem your usual self.” He asks, dropping the packets on the table and taking a seat next to his girlfriend. They haven’t been together long, 3 months officially since meeting on Hinge a month prior. Already he knows her too well.

“I’m OK, just a little nervous about tomorrow…” She mumbles.

“Nervous? You’ll be fantastic, the guys adore you. And don’t worry about helping me decorate, Chris will be here.” He rubs her leg gently with his hand, his eyes glued to her face as she continues glancing ahead. “I can send an Uber closer to the time if you’d rather spend more time relaxing and getting ready.”

But y/n knows she won’t be relaxing, she’d rather be there to help get the place ready to distract her if anything. Actually, she'd not go if she could, despite wanting to. “You won’t be driving so you don’t need worry about drinking either.” He adds.

Just the word sends shivers down her spine. She feels awful, she loves his friends too, but she ran out of excuses to not drink ages ago.

“Y/n?” George asks, his voice laced with concern. She doesn’t want to talk about it, but she doesn’t want to worry him by avoiding the topic either. She puts her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze and paints a smile on her lips.

“Sounds good, now what shall we watch?” She asks as nonchalantly as she can, picking the remote back up and pointing it towards the TV.

“Oh no you don’t,” George states with a small smile, reaching over and taking it off her. He switches the TV off and turns more to face her, taking her hand in his. “Something’s been bothering you recently, what’s wrong darling?” He asks, tilting his head down but looking up at her through his eyebrows. She’s struggling to find her words as she gets lost in his beautiful but worried eyes.

“It’s nothing, I’m all good.” She dismisses. She wants to tell him, but he’s so excited for tomorrow and she doesn’t want to bum him out.

“Look at me baby.” He reaches over and takes her other hand, his thumbs gently brush over her knuckles. “Please, just tell me.”

She feels her chest begin to tighten, her eyes sting. “I… I need the toilet.” She stands to her feet suddenly and awkwardly heads toward the bathroom.

“Do you not like my friends?” George calls out abruptly, a hint of sadness in his tone. She stops in her tracks. “Because if you don't, you really should tell me.” His voice softens. She turns to him and her heart sinks at his anxious expression. “They’re good people.” He adds.

“It’s not that at all.” She states.

“You’ve been avoiding hanging out with them for a while now, I can't help but worry.” He says, watching her face. Her eyes begin to water, the dam breaking.

George’s eyes go wide, he rushes to his feet and approaches her softly. “Oh no, I’m sorry y/n. I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t… you didn’t do anything. It’s me.” She speaks slowly, wiping her tears. George’s breathing shallows, thinking the worst. Thinking this is their relationship over, or something to that effect.

“Did something happen?” He asks, trying to keep his voice calm, but his eyes scream his real thoughts. He reaches his arms out and she accepts, stepping into his warm embrace. She sighs as she lets the tension in her body fade.

“It’s the drinking.” She states, the most coherent and yet painful sentence she’s been able to utter all morning.

His shoulders relax a little, but he’s still confused. “The drinking?” He leans back and looks at her again, his hands resting on her shoulders.

“Yeah.” She murmurs. His hand slides down and takes hers as he leads her back to the sofa. They sit down together as her sobs die down a little. “I’m not comfortable with drinking alcohol. It sounds ridiculous, but I went through a lot as a kid.”

Still holding George’s hand, y/n retells the traumas of her childhood, all of her bad memories linked directly to alcoholism. George listens and nods along. It all makes sense now; their dates never involved alcohol and if they did, y/n was the designated driver. Or she had an 'early start' the next day, or simply nominated herself to be the sober friend of the night.

What he hears hurts him but right now, he knows that she needs him to be strong. She cries harder once she's done explaining, as George pulls her into a hug, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “There, there.” He whispers as his eyes well up. They remain hugging for a couple more minutes as they both calm themselves.

When y/n pulls away, she sees George’s red eyes, making the blue stand out more. “Oh George, this is why I didn’t want to say anything.” She coos, brushing her hand over his cheek.

He leans his head into her palm and presses a small kiss into it. He lets out a defeated sigh, a faint smile on his lips. “Don’t be daft, thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.” He whispers. They both head to the bathroom to wipe their faces down.

His bloodshot eyes gaze at her through the mirror. “If you don’t want to come over tomorrow, I’d understand. I can make up an excuse for you.”

“I want to be there, that’s why I’m so frustrated with myself.” She replies calmly. “And I don’t even mind if everyone else drinks, I just don’t want to be a party pooper by being the only one not drinking ”

George chuckles as he hugs her from behind, still looking at her in the reflection. “The only way you can poop on this party, is by not being there, and by not being your amazing self.” He kisses her cheek.

“Noted.” She giggles as she takes his hand and they head back out to the lounge area.

She’s back scrolling through Netflix again, the fog in her mind clearer and a weight off her shoulders. “Are you OK now darling?” George asks, carrying a blanket and snacks over.

“I really am, thank you, and of course I’ll help you decorate by the way. You boys will do a terrible job without me!” George chuckles and tickles her side.

———

The next day, she hears George’s cheerful rhythmic knock on her door. His jaw drops when she opens it. She looks gorgeous. “Wowee!” He shouts as he twirls her and gives her a tight hug, making her giggle. “Ready?”

They get in the Uber together. “How are you feeling?” He asks her quietly. She gives him a playful smile. “I promise I won’t keep asking.” He adds.

“I’m excited, but a little nervous still. Nothing compared to how I felt before though.” She smiles at him genuinely this time as she answers. George nods, relieved.

The decorating takes no time at all. It would’ve been even faster if y/n didn’t have to keep rehanging things that Chris shoddily puts up. More people begin to show up, bringing drinks and snacks, and helping the three lay them out for the party.

As people mingle and wait for Arthur’s return, George shows y/n that the top shelf in the fridge is full of her favourite still drink. She gives him a peck on the lips to thank him. “I still don’t know what to tell them though.” She whispers in his ear.

“If they offer you a beverage, a ‘no thank you’ should suffice.” He smiles back, stroking her cheek. “And if anyone persists, come get me.”

———

“SURPRISE!” They all yell as Arthur drags his suitcase through the door. He is a little taken aback, his grin wide.

“Ah! Thank you!” He yells awkwardly, his reaction a little underwhelmed.

“Did you know we were here?” Isaac asks, a party blower hanging out his mouth.

“A bit,” Hill sheepishly replies, “Arthur said something about it yesterday.” He gestures to Arthur TV, who’s donning a guilty smile. Chris starts telling him off as he puts his hands up to surrender.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out!” Arthur TV pleads.

The party is a hit. With George being the social butterfly and fluttering between the guests, y/n sits more comfortably with the girls. Liv makes herself a cocktail. “Do you want one y/n?” She offers kindly.

“Oh, no thanks, I’ve still got mine!” Y/n replies, holding up her non-alcoholic drink. Sabine take a sip of her freshly made 'Liv special' cocktail.

“You’ve been drinking those all night, you sure you don’t want to mix it up?” She asks, holding her glass out closer for y/n to smell the drink.

“No really, I’m fine. These are my favourites.” Y/n replies sweetly.

George, Isaac, and Chip join them, having missed their girls already.

“Having fun?” George whispers in her ear, his voice a little off from his drinking.

“I really am, thank you baby.” She giggles back, keeping him steady.

“Sorry, you probably don’t want my beer breath in your face.” He mutters with a guilty grin. Y/n waves his worries away.

“You smell great George.” She replies with a smile, before pecking his lips. He’s then called over by Danny to take shots.

“Duty calls!” George smirks, he rushes off to their table. Y/n decides to make herself useful, acting as a photographer and taking pics and videos on her phone.

Arthur Hill slides in next to her while she scrolls through her photos. “Thanks for this y/n.” He says with a smile, resting his elbow on her shoulder.

“It was George who arranged it, Chris and I just helped decorate the place.” Arthur looks around at the stringers, banners, and balloons while she replies sweetly.

“Yeah but, this is all you.” He protests, gesturing at the decorations. He gives her a hug. “Thank you. Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve hung out.” He murmurs against her cheek.

“Oi! Hands off!” George shouts with a smirk, pointing his finger at the pair and making them cackle.

———

Y/n fetches another one of her still drinks from the fridge. She’s hoping that keeping one on her at all times will stop her from being offered anything else. The plan was working, until she sees the table.

“Beer pong!” Chip roars with his fist in the air. Some of the boys gather around him, while George is across the room chatting to Harry. Picking up a ping pong ball, Chip peers over at y/n. “Ladies first.” He says with a sneer, handing the ball out towards her.

“Oh, no thank you!” She replies, raising her own drink and taking a sip.

“Aw come on y/n! A beer won’t hurt!” Chip whines. Y/n declines further, her cheeks heating up, but the other boys join in with begging her too.

George, having heard his girlfriend’s name from across the room, casually joins the table.

“Clarkey, tell y/n to man up and join in!” Chip whinges, the Arthurs and Isaac nodding in agreement. George puts his arm around y/n’s shoulder.

“Oh, she won’t be playing,” George states nonchalantly, “y/n doesn’t drink, but I'll take her place.” Her breathing hitches for a moment, she looks at the boys’ expressions and awaits further complaints. She waits for them to say the party’s ruined, that she's spoiling it for everyone else. But they don’t.

“Fair enough, sorry about that y/n.” Chip replies with friendly grin, shrugging and passing the ball to George instead. The boys begin their game as if nothing happened. He turns to y/n and winks at her.

“What just happened?” She asks him with a confused smile.

“I told you, they’re good people. Love you.” He beams, kissing her cheek before bouncing the ball across the table.

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

A/n: Thank you anon for the request, this was my first angst piece. I hope I did your prompt justice ♥ - Gabby xo

[hypnzo]

Hi!! Could I request a Percy Jackson x reader where they’re battling some big bad villain and somehow reader is hypnotised into working against Percy?

And they’re battling it out he’s trying to not hurt her and it’s so cute maybe she could be a daughter if Demeter (but have actual powers Demeter kids got nuked hard!)

(She’s actually really badass tho kinda like poison ivy from dc)

Anyway! I love your fics thanks for taking your time to read my request x

Hit me where it hurts

Percy Jackson x Child of Demeter!Reader

Warning !! English is not my first language, there might also be possible mischaracterization.

The moment you and Percy were finally able to locate the very important thing needed in order to complete the mission, you felt the feeling of relief and triumph wash over the two of you in a haze.

However, without meaning to, that triumph soon blinded the two of you as you both failed to notice the lurking monster nearby.

“Sweet,” Percy whistled, his tone sighed with relief, “and it's still in good condition!” he pointed out as you both walked closer.

“Finally,” you groaned, feeling more tired than you usually would be. “Man, this mission took such a toll on me.”

“At least we're finally done with it.” he said, his voice tinged with optimism, but just when you were about to grab the item, you felt your body froze.

Suddenly, you heard a strange growl that seemed to echo around the place. You decided to ready your weapon, however it seems like Percy didn't hear the noise. It felt weird.

“Uh? Petal, are you good?” Percy said, looking a little dumb-founded towards your reaction. If he had to guess, it looked as if you were hesitating on something.

Percy, confused, looked at the item. ...It looked fine which made him more perplexed with your actions.

Curiously, Percy decided to grab the item instead, but just when his hand was inches away from the item, he was stopped by the vines that suddenly wrapped around his wrists.

“What–” Percy's brows furrowed, feeling his sudden irritation and confusion start to bubble even more into the surface.

Without a word, you suddenly lunged your weapon near his chest, making it obvious that you were meaning to kill him.

“Wh– Hey, woah, woah, woah!” Percy stumbled though he managed to block your attack in time. However the vines were getting annoying, especially with the way it was growing as if it was slowly paralyzing his movements.

Without much thinking, Percy tightened his grip on his sword—Riptide—bracing himself as he cut off the vines that extended to his forearms within minutes.

He was free at last, but he suddenly heard a loud hiss of pain. He averted his attention towards his side immediately only for him to realize that he accidentally scarred you.

“Oh– My gods! I'm so sorry, hey, are you oka–” he panicked, feeling his his guilt arising. All of a sudden, he felt as if the ground was trying to swallow him, along with more plants starting to lunge in on him in an attempt to injure him further from fighting.

“What's with these plants?!” he murmured in frustration. He was handling the plants left and right, and if he was being honest, he had no idea that plants could even be that aggressive.

Suddenly, in the brink of the battle, he felt the ground shake. Not knowing what was happening due to the place being quite dark, he blindly decided to keep moving.

“Petal? Petal! Hey, where are you?”

He heard no whispers—not even a soft murmur of your voice.

“Petal–” his voice got sliced through the loud thud which made him pause in surprise.

Looking to his left, he felt himself dumb-founded when he saw the gigantic tree fall over, which he was sure is impossible to even happen.

“What the...” though distracted, he felt someone sneaking up behind him—without hesitation, he knocked them up immediately with his elbow, making the person wince.

“Shit.” you murmured, feeling your nose bleed. What was it with this Percy guy?

“Petal?!”

“Stop calling me that, will you?” your voice lingered with annoyance as you made one step further, almost tripping Percy off of his balance.

“Snap out of it!” Percy exclaimed, his hold on his weapon tightened even further, however... It was a little too tight as if he was hesitating to lift it up against you.

“What? You can't raise your weapon against me, coward?”

Not bothering to hear out his words, you clinked your sword against his, making him fall slightly on his feet.

Taking every mistake to your advantage, you commanded the plants all around the two of you to distract him whilst the others made their way to tangle up Percy's legs from battling you any further.

He stumbled against his own foot, barely managing to draw his sword against yours before you could even forcefully drive it into his chest.

“Calm down..!” He struggled, trying to fight out the force of your weapon without accidentally hurting you in any way.

His whole figure was pinned to ground—the clinking of celestial bronze was heard nearby among the dead plants scattered on the ground.

Percy managed to elbow you with enough force to distract you for a few seconds where he had to make his moves.

“Sorry!” he apologized, though the vines were slowly growing up his legs, temporarily paralyzing his movements from below.

With all the effort he could muster up, his hold met his sword once more, its sharp blade cutting off the vines off of his legs, freeing him away from the paralyze.

Averting his focus back onto you, his sword managed to catch yours before you could even stab a wound near his arm.

His usual fluid flick on the Riptide faltered completely as his fighting became quite stiff almost as if he was purposely trying to hit the corners of your side in order to avoid injuring you.

If he was being honest, if this wasn't a life or death situation with you currently, he'd be laughing in embarrassment with how much he was "failing" to land a hit on you.

As the fight went on, Percy tried to distract you for as much as he could without letting himself die and without accidentally scarring you.

However, the moment you managed to get your sword to clash against his near his throat, you wasted no time to press his weapon against him.

Percy blinked—mentally rubbing his eyes when he looked back once more on your eyes...

Your eyes changed color.

Percy, having no other choices left, he needed to screw you off balance to let himself breathe, however he still needed to maintain you injure and scar free.

You heard him murmur an apology and you felt him step on your foot—its crushing sensation made you wince and you lost your balance for a few seconds.

His vision scanned through every possible solution he could think of to break off whatever hypnosis you've fallen under, that was until he decided to make a bold choice.

Your eyes lurked for his shadow to make an appearance—when suddenly you felt the tip of a blade tap you on the shoulders lightly.

“Over here, Petal.”

Your eyes immediately followed where the voice came from. Cautiously, you made your move, letting the plants help you tug on his ankles to stumble out his movements.

“Hey!” he waved from behind the item to be retrieved. “Over here!” He moved with precision, circling around the item as if he was trying to get you off of your balance once more.

Out of the blue, the familiar, strange, and monstrous voice roared from your body as if it was trying to control your senses next.

It was difficult trying to battle out the monster that had decided to occupy your body to use it against the two of you, especially since you've already ended up with a few wounds across your body from your fight with Percy.

Your own thoughts suddenly got louder the more the item cracked—with one last miscalculated attack, you accidentally hit the artifact, breaking it into dust.

“Petal!” you heard Percy's voice ring through your ears before you almost lost consciousness.

Blinking weakly, you saw him rush beside you as he guided you to sit on the ground before you could even fall on your knees.

“Percy,” you murmured weakly, feeling the hypnosis suck out a large amount of energy out of you, “Sorry.”

You felt his thumb brush across your cheek, smiling softly at your exhausted state—though you expected him to be angrier with you.

“You're not mad?”

“Nonsense.” he presses a kiss on your temple before lightly pinching your cheek. “How could I ever be?”

“Are you feeling alright now?” Percy asks while he assisted you on your feet after you accidentally fell to the ground, which almost knocked your face earlier.

“Yeah.. Thanks.”

“You could give me a kiss,” he says, looking away as if he was feigning sarcasm, “just a suggestion, of course.”

“You're sure a dork, honestly.”

“...So, yes?”

You rolled your eyes though you leaned in against his lips, feeling his lips brush against yours slowly as you felt him smile through the kiss.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

Note: (Thank you so much! Honestly, I really love your request! The moment I read it I immediately thought it was so cool! Thanks for taking the time to make a request!!)

Have a request? Feel free to send one in!

[legstheoctomobster]

Where do dads get this audacity from??? /rhe

[all-too-unwell-13]

what is it with teenage boys and acting like you're their favourite person one day, then disappearing the next?

[invinciblerodent]

an entirely expected side effect of me whipping out my old external HDD is that now I AM going to rewatch basically the entirety of my canon game of Inquisition that I had mostly recorded back in like '15-'16, and get my heart torn right out again by this damn guy making this damn face

he deadass goes "😢" doesn't he

[fyodior]

.

[savemebeel]

Sorry for the lack of edits recently, I’ve been trying my best to keep up with it all but I’ll be honest it’s a little difficult doing that since I’ve been sick for this past week. Not only that but I recently changed jobs so now my schedule is a bit different than what I had before.

I’m still keeping up with editing the latest cards but I’m still behind on finishing some memory cards from the last 2-3 events which I apologize for. I’m hoping to get over my fever so I can get the energy to edit and upload those cards for you guys. I appreciate you guys being patient with me while I recover.

Also I’d like to be fully transparent about this as well but I feel like I’m losing that motivation to edit as a whole. Before I say anything else I wanna make sure y’all know that I’m not quitting on editing any time soon, but I would be lying if I said I don’t enjoy doing it like I did before. Editing now has turned more into a chore than it does as a hobby. Maybe it was when I lost my first blog or it was the lack of engagement but I do not enjoy editing like before. I feel bad saying this since I know to those who’ve stuck around me do like my edits…idk I just feel stumped on what to do or how I’ll move forward with this. For now I’ll be editing at my own pace and give myself small breaks in between so I can finish edits at my own time.

[picture-me-in-the-trees]

“she’s the reason i work so hard. just wanted to make her proud. she doesn’t even care if im any good. just wants me to be happy. be a good lad. once i got good though, my old man started showing up, didn’t he? you know, bragging to all his mates every time i scored a goal. calling me soft if i didn’t dominate, you know and i hated that. i actually fucking hated that. so i made a vow to be so tough that he could never call me soft again. i wonder if sometimes i forget about making her proud. i dont think that she would be lately.”

jamie’s motivation comes from his mom. she’s the reason he got into football, the reason he wanted to play, the very reason he tried so hard in the first place. his dad didn’t decide to come back into his life until after he started getting good so he could profit off of jamie’s success. and even though he came in and twisted jamie’s goals to meet his own, that doesn’t change jamie’s core motivation as a player and as a person. everything he did was for his mom and i think ted lasso, a show about unconditional love and support and how that literally shapes people should have focused more on how unconditional love and support motivates people even when they stray from that instead of saying that everything jamie did was “because fuck him” yk? idk im just rambling here i just think its so crucial to jamie’s character to remember that he is so successful and dedicated to the sport in the first place because of his mom. yes, some part of him may be fueled by spite and yes, he could just be super overwhelmed with having to face his dad again in a higher stakes match without having talked to him since their last match against manchester city but idk it feels like there was definitely a better way to incorporate these issues into jamie’s character and the little arc they had for this episode that doesn’t throw off what they initially set up than how they did it in the show.

[pardonmydelays]

unpopular opinion but i really miss those days when it was all about the music in taylor swift fandom

[narwhalandchill]

its been like. nearly a year (How.) already but i cannot lie theres Still a part in the back of my brain occupied with and being thoroughly entertained by the way that childes confirmed 4.0 complete self-awareness over waking up the narwhal at 14 recontextualizes some key liyue things leading to some very funny self indulgent scenarios in my head

like yes chili is old news its basic please excuse me for predictable popular ship crimes (do NOT however associate me w the crimes of fanon against their actual range. theyre peak to Me) but i just keep replaying the imagery of zhongli and childe back on their homoerotic Professional Working Relationship bullshit where their flirting passed the jkjk unless treshold of even remotely plausible deniability like 8 exorbitantly priced business dinners ago and theyre just like. doing that whole song and dance now neither committing to a move except zhonglis presently feeling moderately conflicted (but nonetheless fairly unfazed at) by the prospects of actually developing some sort of a thing for the harbinger hes supposed to puppet master into executing the major story climax of his 67-step retirement plan bc he turned out to be quite the strangely charming ginger specimen (to His weird fucking 6000 year old tastes at least. they deserve each other) with some fascinating life ambitions he cant help but be enraptured by.

but because hes still 100% Locked In on his entire plan zhonglis also just . simultaneously dual wielding his coy-ass "i like you and am taking it slow to Savor this developing relationship (Also bc of the Geo Archon Shaped Elephant In The Room) except am old as shit so my languid sense of time inadvertedly Automatically turns my behavior into an equivalent of the dark souls boss of playing hard2get" act (cue "waddup im ajax 24 and im in fucking agony with this hot funeral consultant". Yes they live like this) AND also meticulously theorycrafting like 12 moves in advance for his 6d chess play of leaving the most subtly crafted trail of breadcrumbs behind for the tsaritsas 11th to follow into the intended & completely "Coincidental" idea of unleashing the one particular sealed sea deity that zhongli Specifically wants momentarily released for his sweet 6k retirement party and graduation test for the nation hes helicopter parented for 3.7k years .

like. this is zhongli we r talking about the guy Absolutely has it planned out down to a fucking art like he has an entire branching path dialogue tree planned and memorized like its a visual novel for every possible way he can conveniently namedrop osial in a non-suspect way and also that he just happens to be sealed right over there across the harbor (what a coincidence!) and also to slip in the intel about the latent power of the sigil of permission etc etc. like zhonglis just out there doing all this massive galaxy brain computational work simultaneously while infodumping on an academic level about whichever subject childes latest random comment of amicable small talk happened to remind him of because in his helicopter parent in remission mind its Absolutely Critical that the idea about releasing osial occurs Completely organically in childes mind it Has to he Cannot risk revealing anything . (hes in remission not in recovery guys.) so like here we are. he requested notes from the tsaritsa Personally on the character of her 11th just to ensure every move was painstakingly crafted to draw him Specifically to the intended conclusion without risking revealing his true identity .

except. the thing . neither he. nor the tsaritsa . would have been informed of . is that this simply isnt childes first fucking rodeo waking up an eldritch city sized sea creature . and he is very well aware of this fact . he woke that beautiful wonderful beloved huge fucking narwhal up by himself had his brain chemistry Immediately and Irrevocably rewired as a direct consequence do you fucking think hes somehow stopped thinking about that singular moment for even a second since then???

yeah . thought so.

so what actually ends up happening in reality is theyll be on another definitely-serious-business-not-just-a-date and zhonglis going to get down to like dialogue selection part 10 of the 86 step conversation tree at Most where hes only beginning to like Vaguely allude to the key pieces of information involved but it turns out Because Hes That Guy (TM) And Has Been There Done That Before childes basic pattern recognition and sense of irony simply proceed to kick in Way ahead of time and hes Immediately perking up like Hey wouldnt it be really fucking funny if i wake up an eldritch sea beast Again . like just in case. as a last ditch effort .

and zhonglis just sitting there seeing the gears turn in his head as they enjoy their cringe fucking picnic (bc they just stare at each other intently like that nowadays its a thing. being in a room with them by this point is essentially a human rights violation) and is just completely fucking flabbergasted and lost on how in the hell childes speedran his way to that conclusion at what amounts to barely a 13% completion rate in his whole overkill fucking plan (just 1 of 3 contingencies btw) and its like yes he has his intended outcome but also precisely 0 idea on how the fuck said outcome was reached the way it was this fast . like hes still winning its His plan thats well underway and ahead of schedule but How

(pov: ur selling the concept of waking up destructive sea creatures to the guy who woke up a celestial body eating cosmic whale at 14)

anyway its truly beautiful i absolutely detest these two and have prime liyue AQ hijinks nostalgia now thank you for the lore drop that allowed this to become canon in my head hoyo

[courtjesterrr]

Hey guys!! Jester here,

So.. Ehhehhehsbsjjx i dunno how to start this um ;-; i literally JUST REHEARSED THIS-

um....

I quit taocc (kinda- let me explain)

Im quitting the rp part of taocc. Its just not fun anymore, not like it used to, i cannot connect and keep my characters stable for the life of me, and most characters are done. Im just adding unnecessary lore to them. Im just really. REALLY burnt out from taocc rping. I wanna focus on other projects that taocc have gotten in the way of..

Im not quitting taocc all together!! No,no, this whole community has been amazing. Taocc got me through some hard times in life, and literally all my friends are here. Im just not doing roleplay anymore. Ill still finish projects like the TAOCC Episode, A TAOCC in Time, Hollow Oc Circus, etc., dw!!

You see, the Characters Of Eternity (I.e. Lantern, The shadows, Eternal Eclipse, etc.,) are done. Their story has been finished for a looong time.(when lantern became Guardian.) Its just, i keep adding unnecessary lore that I feel is ruining that bitter ending.

And the other half of my characters i made on a whim and have either A. No personality. Or B. No real reason to be there.

Rodger: made on a whim, no direction

Mimic: no real reason, plus i failed at making them evil, no direction Cookies: made on a whim, stopped using after my CRK hype went down

Lannbot: was requested to make by Mod Stuff, no real reason, no direction Knights: made on a whim, not even done yet Gardener: given to me by Jeff, no direction, + Jeff selfuses him more than me Sunshine: no reason and has no direction Ludvic: not done, no direction

And, that is why im giving away some of my characters. I feel like some of them CAN have direction, i just cant execute them. For the collab characters (Knights, Gardener, etc.,) ill be giving to the collabers respectively.

Now, the ones who ARENT collabs, ill be giving away to others if they want it. Those include

Sunshine @sunshiningdayyy Rodger @rodger-rodger-101 Mimic @mimic-your-actions Lannbot @artificialflame And Ludvic (librarian for WBQuest)

You can alter appearances, lore, personality, whatever! Im not giving away the eternity characters, as they were my first in taocc and i refuse to give them to someone else, plus their story is done.

You guys can still find me on: @courtjesterrr , @theamazinghollowcircus , @taocc-updates , and @storyjesterrr !!

Sorry guys again for this sudden announcement, like i said, roleplaying isnt fun or fulfilling anymore, and id prefer if i didnt have to stress 24/7 about where things go, whats happening, whos who, etc..

But ill still be here, making stuff for TAOCC, joining VCs, and interacting with this community!!! >:]

this also means i will info dump on unsaid lore on my characters if you desire to know more-

With that said, i will see you guys in the near future!! Stalking you from the shadows, uee hee hee!!

Jester, out!!

[thawthebeez]

haikyuu tiktok is sooooo annoying oh my god guys nishinoya deciding to stop playing volleyball post-time skip is literally not the end of the world he's fine dude. also sorry ur faves didn't go pro not everybody in that series were going to make it to the big leagues anyway. every single decision furudate made with that series was deliberate and realistic and fucking amazing. also no ur fave ship is never going to get together, haikyuu is about sports not romance. there is literally one canonical relationship within the entire series and it's fucking tanaka and kiyoko. iwaoi is not real, bokuaka is not real, kagehina is not real, kenhina is not real, and they never will be. kageyama is not a red flag you guys just don't know how to perceive autistic people in a positive manner without babying them. please just read the fucking manga

[certifiedmaidenlessblog]

Trying so hard not to be a detestable human to my project partner