#god what a wild series of events | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wlntrsldler · 28 days

Text

THE PROPHECY | LUKE CASTELLAN

synopsis: series of events between zeus!reader and luke that started the prophecy. not canon-compliant; inspired by the prophecy by taylor swift.

series masterlist | previous | next

Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it's gone again.

"Do you think Thalia knew I loved her?"

There was a bite in the air, as there always was when the summer began to fade and fall began to creep up at Camp Half-Blood. It happened every year, at least for the past three years you've called Camp Half-Blood your home.

Luke sat beside you on the hard, dirt floor, looking up at the green of Thalia's pine tree. The summer campers knew of her legend, but it was the year-rounders like you and Luke who understood her sacrifice best. There was a feeling of guilt and gratitude that engulfed all of you, like the protection Thalia blanketed over the campgrounds. You were thankful that demigods had a place to feel safe, but it came at the cost of a life. Thalia should be here.

"Of course she knew," Luke replied, unconsciously yanking out the blades of grass that flourished between the cracks in the floor. "She's your sister."

"Yeah, but do you think she knew I chose to love her?" You clarified, turning your head to face him. You did this every year, you and Luke at the foot of Thalia's tree once the summer campers all left for the year. “I mean yeah, I had to love her because she’s my sister, but do you think she knows that I would’ve chosen to love her even if she wasn’t? I feel like I never told her that. We always fought.”

Each year you studied Luke and noted the things that were different. He's older now. His arms were more defined, muscles beginning to form on his otherwise lanky frame. He'd grown taller in the last few months and his body was adjusting to his new height. The pants he wore all of last summer were discarded a few months ago. They stopped short on his ankles and Luke decided that it was time to let them go.

Another bead was added to his necklace, three wooden beads clanking against each other, just like yours, when he moved his body too quickly. A new bracelet adorned his wrist given to him by a young girl in the Hermes cabin before she left to go back to Virginia for the year. Luke had a collection of bracelets stashed in his bedside drawer. It was a reminder of all the demigods he wanted to protect. Some became painful reminders of the ones he couldn't.

Luke pursed his lips, "Sisters fight. I don't think she took it personally."

Each year you studied Luke and treasured the things that stayed the same. He still had the same smile as he always did, bringing you back to when you and Thalia first met him all those years ago– just three kids fighting for your lives all on your own. You and Luke were the same age, him only your senior by a few weeks, but he took the protector role seriously. Luke was your safe place before Camp Half-Blood.

His curls were the same, especially in the mornings when he first gets out of bed; all wild and unruly, just like how he is when he wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Some people say it's because he's the son of Hermes so mischief ran through his veins, but there was nothing about Luke that mirrored his father. He was too good to be like the gods.

"I just wish my last words to her weren't that," You uttered, a bitter taste in your mouth as you replayed your last conversation with Thalia. In the final stretch of your journey to Camp Half-Blood, you and Thalia got into an argument. In hindsight, it was petty, a disagreement that any older and younger sister would have, but it felt big at the moment. You didn't speak to her for two days. And then, in the blink of an eye, there was a blinding light, and suddenly, your little sister vanished.

You don't even remember what the fight was about anymore.

"You need to forgive yourself," He said, flicking away the blades of grass he had in between his fingertips, "This wasn’t on you."

He said this every year, yet it never felt rehearsed. It always felt genuine when Luke said it. You wondered if he got annoyed at how you brought this up each year, this never-ending feeling of guilt that you didn't turn around to see if Thalia was behind you, that you couldn't protect your little sister, but Luke was patient with you. If it bothered him that you thought about it often, he didn't show it.

"Sometimes it feels like it is," You whispered, watching a singular pine fall from a branch. You like to think that Thalia did these things to let you know that she's listening. "Our dad hasn't talked to me since."

Luke clenched his jaw, wiping his hand on the fabric of his cargo pants. His warm palm took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze, "You're better off."

"Maybe."

"You are," He said, clearing his throat. His chest felt heavy as he spoke. "I have to tell you something."

You turned your hand over, lacing your fingers together. Holding Luke's hand always felt right, even when you were fourteen and he had to drag you away to safety from the monsters who were out to get you; even when you were fifteen being woken up by the nightmares caused by the empty Zeus cabin, a chilling reminder that your sister was supposed to be there; even when you were sixteen and began to take on more responsibilities at camp despite your protests. "What is it, Luke?"

"I have a quest," He admitted. He'd been keeping this from you for days. He was meant to embark on this journey today, but he pleaded with his father to give him until tomorrow to begin. He knew the day the summer campers left was hard on you.

Your stomach dropped. Luke had been waiting for a quest from his father for years. You watched him fall into a pit of despair every time a camper who'd been at camp for a shorter period of time got a quest and returned with the glory of the strongest and bravest champions. You knew Luke wanted the opportunity to prove himself to his father. This quest was it, but it didn't mean that you were enthusiastic about the idea. "When do you leave?"

"In a few hours."

"Oh."

"Are you upset?"

"No," You said, then paused. You thought about it. Luke let you think in silence, rubbing his thumb along your skin. "Yes, but I can't do anything about it. I can't stop it."

"Say the word and I will, you know that," Luke rebutted, staring at you now. "I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Luke," You sighed, "You can't deny the gods."

"For you, I'd try to." Sometimes Luke said things that worried you. You'd always been told that your allegiance should be to the gods, your parents. Sometimes you felt differently, but you never said it out loud, but Luke had no problem doing it. He made it clear that his allegiance was to the people he loved, to you.

"You should go," You said, ignoring the shake in your voice. It was tempting to tell him to stay; Tell him to be content to live a quiet life in the safety of these grounds, to be content with the glory he received from being the head counselor of the Hermes cabin, as the best swordsman at camp. But Luke craved more to life than this, you knew that. He needed more than another notch on his belt from Capture the Flag. He deserved more. He deserved a father who cared about him. Maybe this quest is the key to giving him exactly what he needed. You couldn’t in good conscience keep him from that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." The lie burned your tongue. While some demigods returned victorious, some never returned at all. The thought of it made a chill run down your spine. It made Luke flinch.

He wrapped his arms around you. The position was awkward, but neither of you cared. When you were younger, his curls tickled the side of your cheek when you hugged him. You used to be able to look him in the eye back when you were the same height. You used to be able to memorize the features on his face; the crinkles by the side of his eyes that would appear when he'd smile, eyelashes brushing against the stray hairs of his eyebrows; full cheeks dusted with the faintest shade of pink from the beating sun or the wind chills; a crease under his lips that cast a shadow on his chin.

Now that you're older, his curls fell against your temple when he held you like this. His face was thinner, jaw more defined and cheeks hollow, like his youth was being drained from him each year. But his heart remained the same. A steady thump against your own, a beat that became synonymous with home.

“I feel like this is a test,” He murmured, shaking as he spoke. He’ll blame it on the wind if you asked, but he knows that his words would fall flat. You always did know when things felt wrong with him. Sometimes he thought that you knew him better than he knew himself. Luke licked his lips, “Like he’s expecting me to fail and prove what he’s known all along.”

“You always tell me that I’m more than what the gods think of me,” You said, looking up at him. Luke was staring at the sky, jaw rigid as he fought back the tears. There were only a handful of things that made Luke emotional– talking about his father was one of them. He used to cry when he talked about May, too, but now when someone asks about his mother, his tone turns robotic. He recited her fate like a broken record, waiting for the inevitable looks of pity from the onlookers. You brushed your thumb along his jaw, “Luke?”

“Hm?” His eyes darted to yours, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he studied your features. Luke always knew you were beautiful, but sometimes when he was this close to you, it knocked the breath out of his lungs for a moment, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You always tell me that I’m more than what they make me out to be,” You repeated, holding his face in the palm of your hand, “And yet you never believe it for yourself.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d called him out on his hypocrisy more times than he could count. You were right, though. He did always tell you that the opinions of the gods didn’t matter, not when they didn’t know you like he knew you, not when they were too preoccupied in their own world to realize that you were the greatest thing they created.

“You are more than what your father thinks.”

He wanted to believe you, he really did, but all his life he’d been told that he was destined for something great. And yet the things he’d been able to accomplish so far seem so miniscule, irrelevant, in the context of the gods. He craved more.

When Luke was a child, May Castellan used to mumble the same phrase over and over again. He didn’t think much of it then, nothing that his mother said usually made any sense to his nine-year-old self anyway, but the more time he spent at Camp Half-Blood, the clearer her words became. Luke was destined for something, it’s in the cards, it’s in the hands of fate. This quest might be it, the first step to reaching eternal glory.

There are times though, during moments like this, with you beside him, when he thinks that he’ll be fine not reaching eternal glory. He can live out his life happily with just this; you and him at the foot of Thalia’s tree, with you telling him he’s more than what the gods want him to be. After all, he’d give up eternal glory if it meant being with you.

“You’re gonna be okay without me around?” He teased. For years, it had always been you and Luke. It was a type of co-dependence that made Chiron and Mr. D's eyebrows raise. They found it dangerous. You overheard them talking in the Big House about it once, how unnatural it was for two demigods to choose each other despite the dangers of it. You joked that it was a trauma bond of sorts, but you and Luke both knew that it was more than that. Neither of you said it out loud, though, both too scared to ruin whatever this was.

“No, probably not,” You confessed. Your words took him by surprise. He was expecting you to join his teasing, but he found no trace of banter in your tone. You bit your bottom lip, “But you’re gonna come back, so I’ll be okay. I need to be okay with you being gone. I can’t expect things to always stay the same.”

Luke couldn’t help but frown at your words. He knew you were right like you always were, but he didn’t like the idea of things changing. So much in his life moved with the tides, and up until he met you, he was fine with it. But the idea of the two of you changing, the idea of one day not having this, not having you, well, Luke didn’t think he could stomach the idea. His lips hovered over the crown of your head, almost touching you but not quite, “Not us, though. It will always be us.”

Luke didn’t know what he was destined to do, what prophecy the gods and the Fates had in store for him, but the only thing he was sure of was you. And that was never going to change if he could help it.

#frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke fic #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan series #percy jackson fanfic #luke pjo #pjo series #pjo fanfic

462 notes · View notes

minarisplaything · 10 months

Text

Gala Gal ft. Blackpink Rosé

pairing: Rosé x male reader rating: Explicit wordcount: 2.8k prompt: a young journalist gets a chance of a lifetime with Rosé at a recent event.

Being a writer for a celebrity magazine has its advantages, such as getting to attend grand events like the Cannes Film Festival, or in this case, the MET Gala. Now you might think, where's the fun or excitement in that? A bunch of rich people dressed in overpriced clothing and posing on the red carpet while you have to ask them redundant questions that no one truly cares about outside a small niche of fans.

That is a reasonable question to ask, and a fair point to make. Hell, there are times when you wonder to yourself just how legitimate of a job this is. You certainly hear that question from your parents enough. But the answer to all of those questions comes from the woman currently walking towards you.

"Thank you for your time," you say to the current girl in front of you.

You have been interviewing some girl who is apparently 'the next Olivia Rodrigo,' which is a wild title to have, but you digress. As you bid her good-bye, a sudden chorus of "Rosé! Rosé over here!" erupts from the group of photographers, followed by a series of flashing light bulbs.

Your eyes flick over to the red carpet area near you to see none other than the 26-year-old starlet, Roseanne Park. Otherwise known as Rosé from Blackpink.

You have never crossed paths with her at any events you have covered; which you just toss up to bad luck or god punishing you for some crime you can’t remember. Either way, it seems like you will finally be getting your chance. Judging from this distance, she is just as beautiful as she appears in all her photos.

Her blonde hair is flowing down her back while loose bangs frame her face as she smiles for the camera. She is wearing a black dress that is form-fitting at the top, held together by two thin straps, and flares outwards at the waist. Frankly, she looks stunning. It is a classy dress that still manages to spark arousal in you. Though, you will keep that last part to yourself.

It is only a few moments later that you have to compose yourself as the press woman directs Rosé towards your vicinity. Adjusting your stance, and growing erection, you cough and put on a friendly smile as she walks over.

"Hi, I'm with Eros Magazine," you introduce yourself, managing to remain composed.

"Rosie, it’s nice to meet you," she says sweetly. She is even more beautiful up close, and that smile is practically paralyzing. Given that you don't trust your tongue at the moment, you decide to keep it simple.

"So how are you tonight?" you question, knowing how many times she must have answered it already.

"I'm great! It's a little cold tonight, but I'm excited to be here," she starts in her accented voice. "I love the Museum of Arts and supporting a good cause is always great. There are so many beautiful dresses and people here. So it's all feeling great right now!" she says, remaining smiling and bubbly throughout her answer.

For your part, you merely nod your head and smile, holding the recorder up to get every word. You go through the litany of typical red carpet questions: what projects are you working on, how's the music coming; all the typical things you could hand in to your editor when a story is due. You can see the press woman getting antsy though. Typical. Figuring you only have one or two questions left, you decide to venture out a bit.

"So, you're going to be going on tour again soon, that must be exciting..."

"It is! You're actually the first one to bring that up all night," she says, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"I do like to do my homework beforehand," you joke with a grin before continuing, "That being said, how do you manage to have fun and unwind? Even at these events, you have to keep a certain image, right?"

Rosé is quiet at first, and for a moment, she glances around as if to check that the coast is clear before she answers, "Oh, you know the girls and I find out ways to have fun. And this is actually my third year at the Gala, so I’ve found the little tricks and ways to have some fun."

There is something about the way she looks at you as she speaks that screams there is more than meets the eye to her words. Maybe it is the coy tone to her voice or the glint in her eye as she smiles. Whatever it is, you suddenly find yourself wondering exactly what ‘some fun' entails.

"By the way," Rosé says, interrupting your thoughts, "Eros Magazine...as in the Greek word for erotic love?"

Again she fixes you with that mischievous grin.

"Uh — yeah. Nice catch," you stammer, causing her to giggle.

"I like it" she says, a look you can’t read in her eye. Before you can ask anything further, the press woman begins to nudge her on to the next reporter. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too, have a good one," you reply, watching her intently as she walks away.

If that is your first and last interaction with the K-pop star, then you can say it has been interesting if nothing else. You get the feeling there is more to that little minx than meets the eye, you are only disappointed that you’d likely never get the chance to delve a bit further.

Covering the event means that you gain access to the party but hardly anyone does any real reporting. After all, these kinds of events are meant for the rich and famous. To cement their status as celebrities, they then sneak off inside to where they can have their fun. For the most part, you reporters stay together, talk, and drink the free liquor that is available.

You expect your night will be spent at the bar, winding your time down until it reaches an acceptable time to call it a night. But first things first, if you are going to be here on the company dime, you might as well get your money's worth.

"I've been looking for you all night!"

You are in the middle of ordering yet another drink when a familiar accented voice reaches your ears. Turning in your stool, you lay your eyes on Roseanne Park for the second time tonight, only this time there is something a little more...loose to her demeanor. You get an explanation when you spot the glass in her hands and briefly wonder how many she had at this point.

"Me? You must be confused," you say, both amused, curious, and a bit confused, "I don't think anyone at this party has said I’m wanted."

"Well, you are!" she says, smiling as she moves towards you, "And now that I've found you, I have something to show you."

"Don't you have famous friends to entertain?" you question more than protest as she places her drink on the bar and takes your hand.

You catch a glimpse of a hint of a pout on her features, "Don’t worry, they’re occupied." Again, there is that suggestion that something more is going on. Of course, there is the very realistic possibility that your mind is just running away with crazy, erotic theories. But that potential doesn’t stop you from being any more turned on by the thought. Coupled with the fact that Rosé is dragging you through a gala to god-knows-where and you are practically dreaming. In that moment, she could take you to hell for all you care.

"You're going to love it, trust me," she assures, looking back at you as she continues leading.

"Oh, I’m sure," you reply. Your mind is racing with things from a blow job to taking her from behind, so needless to say, you are a bit disappointed when she stops at your destination.

"A photo booth?" you ask, a bit amused at how silly it seems.

Rosé is either undeterred or doesn’t register your lack of enthusiasm as she simply nods, still smiling and pulling you into the booth.

“It's fun! Come on," the blonde insists, pulling you by the hand into the photo booth. Judging by the size of it, the booth is clearly an afterthought to the gala planners, or maybe it just isn’t meant for two people at the same time to occupy it. You do your best to squeeze yourself in so she can close the curtain behind you. To your surprise, Rosé neatly slides onto your lap, her perfect, tight ass sitting right on top of where your hard-on has been growing for the last couple of minutes.

"Alright, so it takes six photos then prints them out there," she points to the deposit box under the screen. She either doesn't feel the bulge pressing firmly against her ass, or she is very good at playing naive.

"Okay," you nod, as if you are bothering to pay any attention to the pictures.

As she shimmies on your lap to get into a better position, you decide to be bold and snake your arm around her slim waist, only to receive no complaints from the pop star. A countdown shows up on the screen, and when it says CHEESE, Rosé throws her arms around you, smiling openly as you try and fail not to look too bewildered. The screen replays your photo, and you can’t help but laugh at your own expense.

"Not bad," you grin, as the counter starts for the second photo.

"Not bad, but I think we can do better!" she says with a determined look on her face. When the screen says CHEESE again, Rosé suddenly leans over and licks the side of your face. You are so surprised you don't know how you react until the photo replays.

"Oh my god! That's great!" Rosé laughs.

You take the next few photos in the same fashion, going for ridiculous and silly in each one. After every photo, Rosé would shift her weight on your lap, rubbing against your erection each time. You are certain that she has to be well aware of what she is doing, and by the time the countdown for the last photo appears, you have made up your mind.

When the screen flashes, you turn Rosé's head to you and push your lips flush against hers. To your surprise, it takes less than half a second for her to respond, her hands moving up to cup your face. You kiss passionately like that until the simple need for air breaks you apart.

"I was starting to think all my work was for nothing," she says, a devilish grin on her face.

You raise an eyebrow at her; apparently, all your theories have just been confirmed. "You planned all this then?"

"I told you we know how to have our fun at these things," she comments, twirling a strand of hair in her finger.

"We?"

Mischief gleams in her gaze for a moment, “Maybe later. I know you’re a reporter, but you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

She places a delicate finger to your lips as she gets up off your lap. The low ceiling of the booth doesn't allow her to stand up fully, but she doesn't have to as she crouches and reaches under her dress and begins pulling down her panties. "Fuck...these things are definitely ruined. I practically soaked them."

Her comment is more to herself than you, but your cock only grows harder at the revelation. You watch as she slides her thong down past her ankles, and her eyes fall to your crotch. With nimble fingers, she works on your button and zipper, springing free your aching cock.

"Oh wow..." she mutters, eyeing it with an animalistic hunger. "I would love to wrap my lips around that..."

"You're more than welcomed to," you groan, starting to get that sense of teasing with the amount of anticipation that is building. You are tempted to just force her head onto your cock, but you stop short when she speaks.

"Later. We don't have a lot of time."

Your disappointment at that statement is short-lived as she stands again and turns around. Rosé lifts her skirt and hovers over your lap. Grabbing hold of your member, you let out a groan as she positions it at her entrance, rubbing it for a second in her dripping juices. Unable to hold out, you thrust your hips slightly upward, causing your tip to pierce her folds.

"Mmm, somebody's anxious," she purrs, her accent coming out thick.

"Can you fucking blame me?" you say through gritted teeth, reaching out to grab her waist. Before you can yank her down, she beats you to it and spears herself on your rod. "Oh fuck," you let out, feeling how tight her petite body is.

"God, you feel fucking amazing," you mutter into her shoulder.

"Ah~...and you're...much bigger than you look," she says, clearly trying to adjust to the size she just filled herself with in one go. Apparently, the discomfort isn't so bad as she soon begins lifting and dropping herself on your cock slowly. "Try not—ooh— to get too loud," she moans out, her ass rocking against you.

"Speak for yourself," you grunt, your hands gripping her waist firmly as you start to move your hips to match the movement of hers.

You can't wrap your head around the fact that you're fucking a member of one of the most famous girl groups in the world in a photobooth at a gala with hundreds of celebrities. Thankfully, you don't need to wrap your head around it, as long as you keep fucking her. With that in mind, you take control of the pace, gripping her waist and forcing yourself up into her. Each time you spear her pussy, it's like another piece of heaven. Her pussy is squeezing you like there's no tomorrow, only increasing the pleasure you get with each thrust.

"Shit, yes, yes! Fuck me," Rosé chants in a loud whisper as she puts her hand on the console to steady herself as you thrust up into her.

"God, you're fucking tight," you moan, continuing to pound her Australian pussy. "Someone could look in here at any second."

"Oooh, I know," she lets out a shuddering breath.

"You're getting off on that, aren't you?" you continue the dirty talk, sliding a strap off her shoulder so you can push her top down to fondle her pert breast.

"Yes, yes! It fucking turns me on," Rosé pants.

For a moment, you fear she has given you away, but you're too far gone to truly care at this point. Her hands slide down the console, and you're only aware of what happens when the shutter of the camera makes you look up. Looking over Rosé's shoulder as she bounces up and down, you see your photo displayed, Rosé's mouth opened in pleasure.

Grinning to yourself, you increase the speed of your thrusts, determined to get her orgasm face by the last photo.

"OH!" she squeals, surprised by your sudden turn of action. "Oh fuck, right there. Keep going," she pants, her hand covering yours and holding it firmly against her breast.

You squeeze firmly, shoving every inch of your meat deep into her snatch. Her lithe body arches back into you. She's panting heavily, each thrust causing her to take a sharp breath. You turn her head towards you and kiss her, her hand gripping the back of your head. It's sloppy and passionate, perfectly fitting the current heated moment that is occurring.

"I'm close. I'm so fucking close," Rosé chants, continuing to grip your head as she moves her hips to yours.

A few moments later, you have to cover her mouth with your hand as she shrieks her orgasm. Her walls clench around you as she comes, her juices flooding your cock.

"I'm going to cum," you warn, knowing you aren't going to last through her orgasm.

"Mmmph," Rosé says, until you remove your hand, "In me! Cum inside me!"

You don't take a second to question it, instead thrusting your hips upward, your cock pushing into her one last time as you empty rope after rope of your seed into her womb. You continue unloading into the star for what seems like eternity until you both finally collapse in the booth. Her body heaves on top of yours as she tries to catch her breath.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard before," you pant, causing the Blackpink singer to giggle.

"Don't speak too soon," she says, leaning back and kissing you softly on the lips. Thinking of what she could have planned only causes your cock to twitch inside her with anticipation.

One thing is for certain: this girl certainly knows how to have fun.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

#kpop smut #blackpink smut #male reader #rose x reader #rose x male reader #park chaeyoung x reader

1K notes · View notes

thavron · 4 months

Text

"It starts how it will end, with a garden."

This could just be God's omniscience talking, but I feel this tells us something about season one. The story is already over, God is recounting a tale in the past tense.

What if the same is true for Season Two, and it is a story being recounted by Aziraphale and Crowley?

Hear me out. Somewhere on this hellsite there is a post with a great long list of inconsistent duplications. I can not now find this list, nor can I remember it's full contents, but an example would include the following.

Crowley has two sets of sunglasses. Crowley's side burns have two different lengths. Bildad having two different looks.

Why, we ask, would a show that is renowned for its attention to details have so many inconsistencies? Surely not continuity errors. This has given rise to the idea of time traveling Crowley, which I must say is an interesting idea. But I think it might be simpler that that.

Let's look at Bildad. This is a version of Crowley from the past. We know it is a memory/flashback. We know memories can be inconsistent and can also be messed with (see Jimbriel)

So we have Exhibit A, wild and floofy and goofy. Exhibit B, sleek and shiny and a little bit sexy. Why may I ask? Well the simple answer is that this flashback is a shared memory. Both Aziraphale and Crowley are remembering it, and they both have different perspectives of the events.

How do we know both are remembering? There are times when they are not both present on screen. At the start of the minisode Crowley is alone on the hilltop smack-talking the goats. He sees Aziraphale appear. His is the only perspective it can be. Later we see Aziraphale in heaven, without Crowley. Both characters are remembering events and both are remembering it a little differently. Aziraphale, remembers Crowley differently to how Crowley remembers himself. So we have two different versions of Bildad in the same minisode.

So what if the same is true for the present day events? The story is being told from two perspectives, and so they both remember events a little differently. This would explain why little details are different, this is why we have inconsistencies. It would also explain why the major plot arc of this series is about memory loss.

Why does this matter? I'm not certain. But I think something about the final fifteen, and how both characters leave with a different understanding of what happened in that bookshop, will be relevant to how the story unfolds.

EDITING TO ADD: this break down of the perspectives in Job minisode is extremely compelling.

#good omens #good omens meta #my meta

318 notes · View notes

foreverinadais · 9 months

Text

bad date: j.l

summary: you find yourself on a bad date. in desperation, you call your ex, jake lockley, hoping he can help you. which he does, in ways you never could've bargained for.

warnings: smut (eek), dry humping, kissing, light choking ig??? jake puts his hand around reader's neck, fluff, teasing, reader's date is a twat like he seriously sucks, angst but not with jake, no use of y/n or pronouns :) ~part of the ex! mk series but can be read standalone!!!~

word count: 3.4k

ex!mk series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

It felt wrong to be on a date. Extremely wrong. You felt as though you were being disloyal, despite having no commitments, no one to be disloyal too. The events of a couple of weeks ago were still freshly embedded in your brain. It was as though every time you blinked, you remembered a different detail from your conversation with Marc, or a different look from your car ride with Jake, or a different touch from your comforting of Steven.

You had never been quite so confused.

You almost cancelled the date that had been scheduled for quite some time. But doing that would admit you weren’t over your exes. And admitting that would put all the work you had done in getting over them to shame.

So, you got ready, put on your finest outfit with the glamour you desired, and got a taxi to the restaurant you were meeting him at.

He seemed nice enough over text. You had shared stories, even laughed at his pick up lines. He was handsome in a way which felt… unnatural. You struggled to find attraction to other people after so long denouncing everyone. It felt odd to look at a person, that wasn’t your person, in any way other than politeness.

He had embraced you, even kissed your hand, and you worried as you felt nothing. He had opened the door for you, even pulled your chair out, waiting for you to sit and still… nothing. He was perfectly nice.

Until he started talking.

“I just do not understand the people who say looks mean nothing. I mean, obviously, I am attractive, I know that. And you’re decent looking. We’re attracted to each other, nothing wrong with that.” You cocked an eyebrow, taking a long sip of wine as you hummed.

“Right. I mean, I think appearance is surface level. Other things matter more, like how much you laugh together, your morals… good conversation.” He scoffed, waving over the waiter with just his hand. Ew.

“Should’ve known you would think like that. Crickey, wonder what other opinions you have in that brain of yours?”

“Actually, I have a lot.”

“Right, Would love to hear about those, that’s why I came on this date.” The sarcasm dripped off his words and anger bubbled in your stomach. You opened your mouth to talk when the waiter came over, notepad in hand. “I’ll have the steak -rare- with the potatoes and veg. Gotta get the protein in after a work-out.” You cringed and the waiter shot you a sympathetic look.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have the lasagne, please. With garlic bread.” The man in front of you chuckled, but it felt cold.

“Are you sure? Don’t want to have to kiss you with garlic breath.” Your stomach lurched at the thought of kissing him, but it was by no means a positive feeling. You would rather be sick.

“Make that extra garlic.” You said, and the waiter nodded with a smug, ‘certainly.’

Your date talked at you for the next fifteen minutes. He told you his life story, his career, about his friends and their “absolutely wild times, we go kinda crazy, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You were relieved when the food came out, so you had a moment of silence.

You wanted to leave. To shout at him, get up, and go. But you knew that wasn’t smart. He seemed like the type to follow you out the restaurant and ridicule you for making a scene, before claiming he was a ‘nice guy’.

You stuffed another piece of garlic bread in your mouth as you attempted to plan your next move. “These potatoes are vile. God, you want something done right, I can’t even eat this.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead shrugging.

You had eaten at supersonic speed to rush the date, to get home and snuggle under your covers watching a shitty romcom whilst eating the leftover cake in your fridge. You were relived as he swallowed the last bite of food, putting his cutlery down and sighing deeply. “Well that was a load of shit. The food, I mean, not you, darling.” You almost threw your food back up but managed to keep it down.

“Hmm. Right, should we-”

“Dessert first, right? Not that either of us need it but can’t have a date without something sweet.” The wink he sent you made your whole body curl in disgust. If you had to spend more than thirty seconds more with him, you were sure you’d end up stuffing your ears full of cheese just to never him speak again. This was the worst date you’d ever been on. You weren’t expecting the best date ever, but at least something to distract you from-

The idea hit you all at once.

Pulling out your phone, you pretended to look concerned, opening the one contact you knew would be readily available right now. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” You said as your date just shrugged.

Standing from your chair, you found an empty corner, hitting the call button and desperately holding the phone to your ear. It only took a couple of rings before you heard the familiar, “Yes?”

“Jake, you gotta pick me up. I’ll act like you have an emergency and you need my help or something, and then I’ll hastily leave, and you can get me in your cab and-”

“Woah, woah, slow down. What’s goin’ on? Estas en peligro? Are you in danger?” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you.

“Nothing like that. I’m just… this is kinda awkward but I’m on a date.” You could imagine him tensing up as his breathing changed slightly. “But it’s terrible and awful and I just, if I spend one more second with him I’ll end up killing someone.” Jake chuckled, and you scoffed. “It isn’t funny! Look, you owe me. And here’s your chance to pay me back like right now. As fast as you can. I don’t care how many laws you break getting here.”

“Relax, Carino. I got in the car when you started talking.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat and your heart skip.

“Thanks, Jake. I’ll send you my location.” He hummed, and you hung up, quickly sending the restaurant name before returning to your date.

“I’m so sorry but my friend’s had an emergency. This has been… lovely… though.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have too, yeah.”

He scoffed, and you noticed a shift in his persona. “Figures. Everyone leaves me.”

“Nonono, it isn’t anything like that! My friend-”

“Likely story. You know, I’m too good for you anyway. You won’t get a date with someone like me again.”

“Well, thank fuck for that. In fact, I’m deleting every dating app I have just to make sure I never do!” It came out before you could bite your tongue, but fuck, it felt good.

“Whatever. Didn’t want to fuck you anyway.”

“Excuse me? That’s all this was? God, you’re such an arsehole! Fuck you, I’m leaving. I’ll pay my half at the till.” He started ranting about something, about how you ‘probably couldn’t afford it’ and how ‘you’re lucky he’s being nice’ but you were already walking away.

You paid for your meal, apologising to the waiter for the arsehole’s rude behaviour, but she just smiled and handed you a piece of dessert in a takeaway box; “It’s on the house.” You smiled, ignoring the shouts from your date as you left the restaurant.

You were beyond grateful to see him. He was wearing his driving gloves, the rough leather ones that you loved. He had got out the car, waiting anxiously to see you. You saw his sigh of relief when he did. You couldn’t help yourself.

You practically ran toward him, watching his face of shock turn to acceptance as you reached his arms. You wrapped an arm around his waist, careful not to drop your food as he engulfed you in a hug. “Hi.” You whispered into his chest, beyond grateful he was there. You knew you could look after yourself. You didn’t need a man to come to your rescue.

But he wasn’t just a man.

Secretly, you were looking for an excuse, any excuse, to call them again.

“That bad, huh?” He said as you pulled away, scanning your face as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

“Worse.” You wanted to convey a serious composure. It had been terrible. But if you didn’t laugh, you’d definitely cry. Jake rose an eyebrow as you began chuckling, covering your mouth to try to contain it. But eventually, it started pouring out, until you were out of breath laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Jake asked but couldn’t help smiling himself. “Huh?”

“It was the worst date ever.” You managed to get out, and even though Jake couldn’t quite understand, your laughter was so contagious, he couldn’t stop himself from joining in. People passing by shot you a few weird looks, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you released your emotions in the healthiest way you had for a while.

Eventually, you calmed down, wiping a tear from under your eye as Jake looked at you in admiration. “Want a ride?” You smiled, glancing back at the restaurant before nodding. Jake opened the door for you as you climbed in the cab.

“We have to stop doing this.” You said as Jake had pulled up to your flat. You had told him every detail about your date from hell, down to what seasoning you had on your food.

Jake had listened neutrally, apart from whenever you mentioned that man. His blood boiled as he thought about you on a date, thought about another man looking at you, making comments about you.

But he ignored the jealously, instead focusing his negative feelings on your date. “He sounds like a fucking asshole. Should’ve gone in there and given him a piece’f my mind.” He had said,gripping the steering wheel, but you brought him down, assuring him you had taken care of it and would be deleting him off every app you had him on.

“Doin’ what?” He asked, and you gestured between the two of you.

“Picking each other up? Calling each other? Seeing each other at all?” Jake nodded, but smirked.

“Almost like we can’t get enough of each other.” He teased and you tried to ignore the effect he had on you.

“Almost like you can’t get enough of me.”

“Ey? How’d ya reach that conclusion? You called us.”

“You called me first! I thought it was just something we did now.”

“Sounds like it’ll become a bad habit.”

“Maybe. But sometimes, I like being bad.”

“I remember.” The air shifted and suddenly, there was too much space between the two of you. You watched as he gulped, watched as the vein in his neck tensed and his lips twisted up in the familiar way they did.

“Thanks for the lift. Again.” You said, chuckling lightly, trying to clear the fog in your mind.

“Right. Anytime.”

“Anytime huh? That’s dangerous.”

“Maybe. But I like danger.”

“I remember.” You teased his words from earlier, and he shot you a small smile. Fuck, you wished he hadn’t looked over; and so did he. You held eye contact a beat longer than you had intended, your heart skipping a beat as his eyes flicked briefly towards your lips. You swallowed harshly, pulling yourself away from the moment, forcing yourself to make a move out of the car. “I should really…” You pointed toward your flat, smiling awkwardly as he nodded.

“Right. You should rest. I’ll see you, well, whenever either of us need a lift.”

You chuckled, nodding, “Well, thanks.”

“Por supuesto, anytime, seriously.” You didn’t want to leave. This felt different from every interaction with them since you had broken up. Something was screaming at you to stay, and you didn’t think it was the remnants of wine left in your system.

No, it was as if an invisible force was willing you to him, to his scent, his warmth, his stupidly attractive smirk. He noticed your hesitation, eyebrow raised in question. “If you’re gonna sit here all night, lemme know so I can turn off the engine.” He teased jokingly, and you forced a laugh.

“ ‘m going now, just… preparing for the cold.” He nodded but didn’t look convinced, amusement lingering in his features. “Okay, ready now!” You felt suddenly embarrassed, deciding to get the inevitability of your leaving over with. “Goodbye, Jake.” You said quietly, sticking your hand out as if to shake his hand.

“You want me too…”

“I don’t know! I thought it was a nice, civil gesture to end this terrible evening with!”

“A handshake…?”

“Fine, it was dumb anyway-” You began, retracting your hand before he grabbed it with his gloved one.

“No, no, c’mon.” He squeezed your palm with his own, and your skin tingled at the contact. The friendly gesture was corrupted in your brain as he shook your joined hands, a smug look on his face at the way your breath hitched. “There, happy now?”

You couldn’t think. Could hardly breath as you shook your head, ‘no’. Because it wasn’t enough. No amount of contact would ever be enough.

You didn’t think about the possible aftermath of your next action. You couldn’t think about anything but him. With zero hesitation, you were shuffling forward in your seat, hands falling on his jacket as you pulled him toward you slightly. Your lips barely grazed his, but it was enough to send your heart soaring.

No sooner than you had done it, you pulled away. It was his move. His cho

Jake looked to your gaze, then down to your lips, repeating the action twice. His eyes were glazed over, and you were sure his mind was reeling, his alters talking over each other, but he couldn’t hear anything apart from your heavy breathing and all he could smell was your perfume-

His hands cupped your cheeks, a small groan leaving his lips before they were on yours. You sighed in content, moving your lips with his as if you had never stopped. Your hands found his hair, tugging on the familiar locks gently as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

You didn’t ever want to stop kissing him. It felt so familiar yet so distant, as if you had only ever dreamt of moments like this. When in reality, you had kissed him thousands of different times. And it all came flooding in to this moment.

Jake pulled back slightly, breathless. You wondered why he had stopped, about to ask when you felt his thumb trace your bottom lip. Your breath hitched as he pulled lightly, your mouth obediently opening for him. He smiled before pulling his own lip between his teeth, eyes dark as he gently pushed his thumb into your mouth.

You made a noise of shock, but quickly pushed it away as you swirled your tongue around the tip of his thumb, inviting him to push further. Jake groaned, almost in disbelief, eyes never leaving yours. “Fuck, baby.” His words were drawn out, like they always were in situations like this. It drove you crazy. “C’mere, need you t’ be closer.” He said, voice husky as he apprehensively removed his thumb from your mouth, quickly silencing your groan of disapproval with his lips.

Jake pulled you over the gearstick, careful you didn’t hurt yourself, not that you cared at all about your safety right now. He sighed in relief as you swung your legs over his lap, straddling him as your arms looped around his shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer. “Relax, Carino, ‘m not goin’ anywhere.” He chuckled against your lips, but you hardly heard as you rolled your hips forward.

His chuckles turned into groans as you found a pace, desperate to feel him against you, everywhere. Jake held onto your waist, helping you move rougher against him, trying to keep kissing you but fuck it felt so good.

You pulled away first, breathing heavy in pleasure as small moans left your lips. Every sound you made only amplified what he was feeling, and he couldn’t help but clash his lips to yours just to swallow them.

“Jake.” You whimpered, and he couldn’t recall a time his name had ever sounded so good. It was euphoric, just hearing you say his name.

“Fuck, baby, you sound ruined, and I’ve barely even touched you.” His words elicited another moan from you as your head fell into his shoulder, hips rolling faster to chase a high you couldn’t reach on your own, or with any other partner you had tried with since them.

Jake squeezed the flesh of your waist, still guiding your movements as his other hand went to the back of your neck. He tugged you up, watching as your bottom lip slipped between your teeth. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Lemme hear what I do to you.” He pulled your lip out from your teeth, and you let out a broken moan, eyes squeezing shut as his teeth bit possessively at your neck.

“Who’s makin’ you feel this good?” His voice had an edge to it, dark and dirty. It made your thighs clench harder around him.

“You.” You whimpered, eyes rolling back as you felt yourself hurdling closer to the edge.

“Not that prick from your date, huh? Ey, look at me. Who makes you feel like this? Need’ta hear you say my name.”

“You, Jake! Always you!” You practically sobbed, overwhelmed and so, so close. All your senses were heightened, and you couldn’t recall the last time you had felt this level of pleasure. And he hadn’t even touched you yet.

Jake chuckled darkly, his hand slipping up to your neck, squeezing only slightly, but it was enough to send your mind reeling. “Thaaat’s it.” His words were drawn out in arousal. You were at the edge, practically falling off, and Jake could tell. Even after all this time, he could read your body perfectly.

“You can let go, Carino. Let go f’me, c’mon, there you go.” He cooed as you clutched onto him, gasping and repeating his name like a mantra as you reached your peak. Jake kissed your shoulder, stroking at your back as your body shook with aftershocks. “Did so good f’me, baby.” He whispered and you practically melted against him.

The windows were covered in perspiration from the events inside the car, and your heavy breathing filled the car. Jake whispered terms of endearment in your ear as you snuggled into his body. It was hot inside his car, yet somehow, you couldn’t get enough of his heat.

Eventually, you felt strong enough to speak, lifting your head up to face him, skin glowing in a thin layer of sweat and euphoria. Jake’s smiled matched your own as he cupped your cheeks, bringing you in for another kiss. “Wow.” You whispered against his lips, and he chuckled, agreeing.

You stroked the side of his face, tracing the details of his skin with soft fingertips. Jake leaned into your touch, savoring the softness of your actions. Neither of you were thinking about the consequences. And if you were, neither of you cared. Not right now. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. He had almost forgotten that happiness existed outside of you.

“It’s late.” He said suddenly, and you sat up straighter. “You need rest, especially now. I don’t wanna disrupt that.”

“Wait, what? I just kinda figured… you don’t want to come up with me?”

“Well… I thought you were finished.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t get to…” You looked down at his lap, at the prominent issue still there, and you smiled teasingly.

“Trust me, baby, that was all I needed.”

“But I want to make it up to you.” You innocently ran a hand down his chest, stopping just before his belt and he tensed.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want too. If you want too.” You watched as he tutted, before nodding. “Please?” Your voice was soft but seductive as you ran a hand through his hair, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his jaw, then his cheek, then just next to his lips.

You felt drunk on him and you didn't care about what this could mean. How far it could set you back. You were too far gone, too deep already. You needed him. You always needed him.

Jake groaned, squeezing the flesh of your waist. “Joder eres tan bueno -fuck you’re so good- when you ask so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

a/n: i have never written smut before so this was a fun venture into it!!! i promise more parts are coming. i was conflicted on how to do this chapter but it kinda found it's own end. the next one will involve our other two boys yayyy :) i am really enjoying writing this series. thank you so much for reading!!!

tags: @rmoonstoner @marinalor @readingfan @neteyamsluvts @howellatme @nana90azevedo @midgardian-witch @daddyjackfrost

#moon knight #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley #jake lockley smut #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader #moon knight angst #moon knight fluff #ex! jake lockley

615 notes · View notes

eyesthatroll · 6 months

Text

chocolate pancakes | bless the broken road series

pairing: dad!jack x fem!reader warnings(s): established relationship, children, not sure what else. word count: 2.26k author's note: dad!jack is everything to me. also i love this au sm. hope u enjoy. (i too would give jhugh as many babies as he wanted). go canucks! -mari

With a gradual opening of your eyes, the morning light filtering in, you’re gently reminded that your youngest son, Adler, sought refuge in your bed after a nightmare. An attempt to roll onto your side is halted by a concealed giggle emanating from under the covers. Curiosity piqued, you twist your body, discovering a tender scene unfolding—your son and husband engaged in a hushed game of thumb wrestling.

Caught in this quiet interlude, Jack’s eyes meet yours, and an easy grin spreads across his face. “Morning, Mama,” he greets, the raspiness in his voice echoing in the morning stillness. Adler, buoyed by his father’s words, springs into action, throwing himself onto you with infectious enthusiasm, demanding a good morning hug. “Mama!” he exclaims, the joyful proclamation filling the room and ushering in the start of a new day.

“Addy,” you softly greet him, a smile gracing your lips as you lean in to plant a cascade of kisses all over his face. Starting at his nose, you traverse his cheeks, then his forehead, and back to his nose again. Adler giggles in response, a mixture of delight and playful protest evident in the sound, his small frame wriggling as he tries to escape the onslaught of your never-ending kisses.

Releasing him from your hold, Adler tumbles into Jack’s chest with a soft thump, a mild groan escaping Jack’s lips as he instinctively pulls your son into a warm embrace.

“How about you go wake your brother up? Please.” Jack suggests to Adler, who responds with an enthusiastic nod. In his eagerness, Adler inadvertently delivers a swift kick to Jack’s sensitive area as he springs off the bed, his small feet padding down the hall toward the shared room with Stephen. Jack’s face contorts in pain, his hands instinctively reaching down to alleviate the discomfort. The unexpected and humorous turn of events elicits a spontaneous burst of laughter from you, unable to contain the amusement of the morning. Moments later, Jack joins in, and the two of you find yourselves laughing obnoxiously at eight in the morning.

“Are you... okay?” you manage to ask. He shakes his head, a lingering amusement dancing in his eyes as he pulls you towards him. Yielding to his tug, Jack effortlessly guides you onto his lap, and you straddle his waist. In an easy gesture, he reaches up to sweep a cluster of wild curls behind your ear, his fingers tenderly lingering at your earlobe to stroke down your cheek.

From this vantage point, looking down at him, your hands come to rest on his toned stomach, fingers lightly grazing the warm skin beneath. Your gaze lingers intently on his striking face, where traces of a recent injury still mark his nose from a puck taken to the face weeks ago. Noting the specks of acne littering his T-zone area, you discern that proper skincare wasn’t a priority when he was away on the roadie he just arrived home from. Yet, despite these imperfections, God was he gorgeous. You couldn’t help but have an appreciation for the raw and unfiltered essence of him and who he was.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mumbles. Your response is a subtle raise of your shoulders, a facade of innocence adorning your features as you lean down, bringing your face closer to his. “Like what?” you inquire, a teasing edge to your tone.

A hitch in his breathing betrays the effect of your proximity. “Like you want me to put another baby in you,”

Quirking a brow, you choose to test the waters further, your face flaring with heat. “Maybe I do,” your words hang in the air, laden with a provocative energy that lingers between you both.

He wets his bottom lip, cursing under his breath, before leaning up to capture your lips. Your hands are in his hair, tugging slightly at the roots, a gesture that elicits a small moan from him, prompting an opening that gives you access to his tongue. You hear multiple sets of footsteps through the hall headed your direction, causing a smile into the kiss you shared with Jack. “Daddy, tell Stevie to stop touching my Obi-Wan doll!”

You quickly roll off of Jack, slight panic arising for him as he moves to throw a pillow over his rapidly growing erection. With a quiet chuckle escaping your lips, you pivot toward your beautiful babies, whom you couldn’t believe were almost five years old. “Let’s go make pancakes!” you exclaim, the mere suggestion injecting a burst of excitement into the room. The bickering that had occupied their attention mere moments ago dissolves like morning mist as they eagerly latch onto the idea, their little feet transforming into a blur of motion as they dash towards the kitchen, their jubilant voices harmonizing in a spirited chorus of, “Pancakes!”

Emerging from the embrace of your cozy bed, you pause at the threshold of the door, a playful glint in your eyes. “You coming?” you inquire, the corners of your lips curling into a mischievous smile.

Jack responds with an almost theatrical groan, surrendering to gravity as he collapses backward onto the bed. “You know I can’t right now.”

With a subtle shake of your head, a genuine amusement lighting up your features, you leave Jack with his predicament, your steps carrying you towards the task of gathering the boys. In the confined space of the hallway bathroom, the three of you brushed your teeth, and washed your faces for the day.

Upon your return to the kitchen, you are greeted by a sight that pleasantly surprises you—all of the ingredients needed, adorning the counter top.

Your fingers close around a bag of miniature chocolate chips, and you arch an eyebrow at the two little boys gazing up at you with eager anticipation. “Chocolate chips... what’s the plan with these?” you playfully inquire, wearing a mock expression of bewilderment.

In an instant, Stephen jumps from his feet. “Choco pancakes!” he declares with unbridled enthusiasm.

Your grin widens as you challenge him, “Chocolate in pancakes? Mhm.. that doesn’t sound right...”

Stephen, undeterred, makes a determined lunge for the bag, insisting, “Yes, Mama, they’re my favorite!”

Grinning, you seize Stephen around the waist, effortlessly lifting him off the ground. You twirl him in a joyful circle, showering him with affectionate, sloppy kisses—mirroring the same endearing ritual you bestowed upon Adler earlier in the morning. “Ew, Mama, let me go!”

Gently settling Stephen back onto the floor, your focus shifts to the mudroom, where your keen eyes catch sight of the two items you were seeking. Easily, you retrieve the boys’ step stools, positioning them strategically near the stove for the later use.

Turning to the boys, you invite them to take their places at the island, their anticipation palpable. The prospect of cooking with you elicits an unmistakable sparkle in their eyes. As they eagerly perch on their stools, you can’t help but feel a radiant warmth in your heart as you reflect on the profound significance of these moments. Spending time in the kitchen with Stephen and Adler, sharing what you’ve dedicated your life to, with them—gave you a sense of happiness that rested in your chest always.

You grant the boys autonomy in the kitchen, allowing their small hands to navigate the world that is chocolate chip pancakes. They take charge, measuring ingredients with a mixture of enthusiasm and concentration. As they gingerly crack an egg, you observe their movements with a watchful eye, ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble, though, they’ve made pancakes around probably a dozen times now, it was almost second nature to them.

In the midst of this culinary symphony, Jack materializes, a vision of casual comfort in gray sweatpants and a well-worn t-shirt. Evidence of a recent shower clings to him, his hair tousled and damp, redness resting in his face. Closing the distance, he sidles up behind you, molding his form to yours. With a gentle touch, he rests his chin atop your head, wrapping his arms around you, the warmth of his presence adding an extra layer of intimacy to the kitchen tableau.

Together, you and Jack become silent spectators to your twins before you, sharing a moment of quiet unity as you witness the harmonious chaos of your sons navigating the world of cooking.

“Done, Mama!” Adler’s triumphant proclamation reverberates through the kitchen, accompanied by the clink of his bowl being hoisted upward and skillfully twisted for your inspection. Jack, displaying swift parental reflexes, intervenes immediately. He glides over, deftly guiding the elevated bowl back to a stable eye level, a masterful save as the pancake mixture teeters perilously close to escaping the confines of the container. Stephen, ever the observant sibling, punctuates the moment with a peal of laughter, relishing in the near-miss.

Amidst the playful banter, Adler slouches into his chair, a subtle pout gracing his features as he nibbles thoughtfully on his bottom lip. “Sorry, Daddy,” he offers in a soft, apologetic murmur.

Jack, the epitome of paternal grace, brushes aside the potential mishap with an understanding smile. He leans in, a soft gesture that manifests as a kiss planted on Adler’s forehead. “It’s alright, bud.”

He moves to methodically pull out the boys’ chairs one by one. His strong arms effortlessly lift them from the lofty barstools, descending with a gentleness that contrasts the stools’ imposing height. The boys, brimming with anticipation, scamper towards the stove, their eagerness painting the air with a palpable sense of excitement.

Meanwhile, you seize both pancake-laden bowls, cradling them with a careful balance as to not drop them. Jack, in seamless coordination, retrieves two spatulas and two ladles from the kitchen drawers, handing each utensil to the boys, who accept with a small thank you leaving their lips. Mindful of the potential hazards, the boys instinctively keep a safe distance as you flick the burners on, configuring the heat before positioning the pans.

You watch with amusement as Adler crafts a quartet of petite pancakes, each a miniature masterpiece, while Stephen opts for a duo of substantial ones that meld seamlessly within the confines of the pan. Laughter dances through the air as the boys revel in their culinary freedom, flipping their creations with a sense of pride, all without needing your or Jack’s assistance.

As the spatulas expertly navigate the flips and turns, the aroma of cooking pancakes weaves its way through the room, a fragrant tapestry engulfing the space. In a surprisingly short span, the once-filled bowls now stand empty, replaced by towers of golden-brown pancakes, contrasting in size and shape.

Jack extinguishes the burners, before helping the boys dismount from their step stools. A synchronized burst of youthful energy propels them toward the den, their plates clutched like treasures in hand. The anticipation of Saturday morning cartoons, a rare indulgence, dances in their eager eyes. You trail behind, two cups of milk in hand, the cool liquid promising a refreshing complement to the warmth of their freshly cooked pancakes.

The den, a haven of comfort, awaits their arrival. With careful precision, you guide them to a small table, the hub of their Saturday morning ritual. The glow of the TV screen flickers to life, revealing an episode of Sonic the Hedgehog already in progress. Settling into the soft cushions, the boys become entranced by the animated world unfolding before them.

“Started coffee,” Jack announces, his gaze leaving the pot to lock onto yours as you reenter the kitchen.

“Thank you, love,” you respond with a grateful smile. Moving to the fridge, you retrieve a container of velvety vanilla yogurt and your preferred coffee creamer. Jack, attuned to your needs, hands you a plate laden with pancakes, seamlessly relieving you of the creamer as if anticipating your next move.

Taking your designated seat at the island, you observe with quiet appreciation as Jack, with practiced familiarity, doctors up your coffee just the way you like it. The fragrant steam rises, winning the battle over the pancakes and successfully enveloping the kitchen in the rich aroma. As Jack presents you with the completed coffee, you savor the moment, the warmth of the mug seeping through your hands.

Seated beside you, he seizes the moment to immerse you in the vibrant narrative of the road trip. As the two of you indulge in breakfast, he delves into the details with animated gestures and candid expressions. From lamenting the decisions of the referees to self-critiquing and dissecting nuances that demand improvement, he unveils the intricacies of his experiences on the road.

Amidst the discourse of sports, a genuine sentiment surfaces — he shares how much he missed you, and the intimacy of the conversation deepens as he intertwines personal anecdotes with tidbits of team gossip. The breakfast table becomes a nexus, where the clatter of cutlery and the exchange of words weave a narrative that transcends the surface of sports talk.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

A fleeting moment of confusion flits across his features, a subtle puzzle settling into his expression. However, realization dawns, and a radiant spark ignites in his eyes. Despite the attempt to conceal his joy, a flicker of brightness surfaces, momentarily betrayed by the clearing of his throat as he grapples with a mix of emotions.

“You don’t have to just say that, if you don’t really want another.” He cautions.

You lean into him, your lips meeting his gently. “I’ll give you as many babies as you want, J.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfiction #dad!jack hughes #jack hughes fluff

334 notes · View notes

gotham-daydreams · 8 months

Note

Honestly, if I was reader I would weaponize the fact they literally know next to nothing about me. Hear me out

Bruce and fam show up and are like: it's so irresponsible for you to just disappear and not tell anyone, did you drop out of school just to get away

Me, knowing they never paid attention anyways: no one wanted to talk that night so I left a note. And no I didn't drop out, I graduated with honors. I went to/am going to college for___ degree. I took my diplomas with me because it's MY accomplishment

Bruce letting his high tech medical machine do a series of tests because he's lost it and wants to know every detail down to your white cell count: you've had a significant damage to your pelvis in recent months

Me : oh yeah, My husband is going through a phase

Bruce : you're married???

Me : was it my ring or extraordinarily good sex life that gave it away??

Like seriously, I'd not pull any punches when it comes to hurting them back for what they did to me. Such as mentioning lasting injuries or traumatic events that happened while they were pretending I didn't exist. If anything I'd bring it up just to hammer in the fact that I.don't.need.them. And let them all have mental breakdowns. It gives me joy. And the best part is, they really wouldn't know what's fact or fiction. Let them go hunting for a husband that doesn't exist. Send them on wild goose chases for anything and everything they don't know.

Again, I love all of these spite posts and y'all are a RIOT and I love y'all for that, oh my god.

Icing on the cake? Of course the reader has gotten hurt in the past. They've overworked each and every last atom in their bodies just to have an inch of a connect with the Batfam, but still got nothing for their efforts. Which may or may not be mentioned in part 3 when stuff starts tumbling down even more.

Honestly, why not just make shit like that worse? How are they going to know?

You broke your wrist? Say it was your arm.

An ankle? Say it was both your legs and you were maybe even bedridden for a while. Or just on crutches (which may or may not be canon).

Hell, with the whole husband thing — why not lowkey turn it into a whole ass drama for the hell of it? You've had pervious partners in the past, and honestly some of them were kind of shit but there was this one person who you're actually kind of chill with. Maybe you still have a drink with them every now and again. You're married but have already been through your first divorce and have maybe been thinking of having children, or maybe you already do! (Which, of course, they can be pets but how is the Batfam going to know that right away?)

Basically, go off. They honestly deserve it, and especially because after years they still don't know the smallest thing about the reader. Well- besides that they're into music, and even then that's only about half of them? I believe?

The only one that would see through your bs is Alfred but he isn't going to say anything. Not without being sassy himself and heavily sarcastic. Even if he'll only play along for so long, your the favorite so it's okay. Besides it wouldn't be the first mind games he's played.

It may take everyone a little longer, but you can guess why. Hell, maybe some lies they'll never even find out about, since some of the best lies are told with a little bit of truth to them.

Regardless, it all spunds very fun ♡♡

#talking daydreams #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #sibling reader #gn reader

229 notes · View notes

starsandhughes · 6 months

Text

Penalty Box Series— High School Edition: Prom

General Masterlist

y’all asked, and i delivered <3 (just way later) p.s the cringe is on purpose because who wasn't cringey in high school?

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, colecaufield, and 577 others

yourusername BREAKING NEWS: the gang went to prom!

pic one: sexy girl is swooned by her boyfriend

pic two: two kids happily in love on their way to the dance <3

pic three: mom takes marvelous picture of her favorite child!

pic four: five loser boys refuse to take a normal picture

pic five: sexy girl makes her twin brother carry her (for the first time ever)

pic six: two losers (lexi and spencey) photobomb a picture of some hot girls

pic seven: sexy girl gets tired of her shoes

pic eight : sexy girl and her brother’s date run away from sexy girl’s boyfriend and brother because they were being annoying

pic nine: sexy girl’s sexy boyfriend goes a little crazy at the after party

thanks for a wild night, boys❤️

tagged trevorzegras, jackhughes, colecaufield, _alexturcotte, slknight35, and others

view all 47 comments

trevorzegras god i love my sexy girlfriend (forever)

yourusername god i love my sexy boyfriend (always)

jackhughes @/yourusername @/trevorzegras could you two stop calling each other sexy? i’m trying to have a good time

trevorzegras @/jackhughes you should’ve thought about that before you brought her into my life

jackhughes @/trevorzegras I JUST LEFT YOU TWO ALONE IN A RINK! I DIDN’T KNOW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN!

yourusername @/jackhughes you've been rooting for us since day one stop being a dick

jackhughes @/yourusername i was not rooting for you two to be nasty online!

yourusername @/jackhughes i could be saying MUCH worse and you know it

jackhughes @/yourusername *insert curse word here*

trevorzegras i’m surrounded by basket cases

colecaufield @/trevorzegras entertaining basket cases!

yourusername @/colecaufield ty best friend number two! i live to entertain

jacksdate GORGEOUS

yourusername SAYS THE GODDESS HERSELF

jacksdate let's ditch our boyfriends and get married

yourusername i like your thinking! i’ll get the rings

jackhughes @/trevorzegras i think we just got dumped

trevorzegras @/jackhughes we could get married

jackhughes @/trevorzegras hard pass

slknight35 i'm not a loser, loser!

_alexturcotte what he said

yourusername @/slknight35 @_alexturcotte you literally are?? you guys saw IT one time and took the losers club to heart

slknight35 @/yourusername that makes you beverly who is also a loser

jackhughes @/slknight35 don't flatter her. she's the pyro.

yourusername @/jackhughes patrick hockstetter???? who dies towards the beginning of the movie????

jackhughes @/yourusername exactly! when's your death scene coming?

yourusername @/jackhughes after i play with hairspray and a lighter apparently

trevorzegras @/jackhughes DON'T GIVE HER HAIRSPRAY AND A LIGHTER

_alexturcotte @/jackhughes GIVE HER HAIRSPRAY AND A LIGHTER

slknight35 @/jackhughes i fear for your safety

yourusername @/slknight35 he's fine

slknight35 @/yourusername you responding for him does not look good for you

friend1 pop off, sis!😍

yourusername staappp you're gonna make me blush!🤭

alexsdate things i learned tonight: you party HARD

yourusername thank you! it's a talent of mine!

trevorzegras @/yourusername a concerning talent

yourusername @/trevorzegras that sounds like a you problem, my love

colecaufield sissy quotes that preceded unfortunate events: "the moon wants me to swim to her"

yourusername just admit that ur lame

colecaufield my wallet got soaked!

yourusername but did you die?

colecaufield no?

yourusername then you're fine <3

_alexturcotte @/colecaufield wym? you getting shoved into a lake was the highlight of the night

colecaufield @_alexturcotte YOU DIDN'T GET SHOVED

yourusername @/colecaufield because he dove in willingly!

trevorzegras @/colecaufield somebody always gets shoved into the lake every time we're near it so i feel like this is on you, bud

jackhughes @/colecaufield 100% on you

slknight35 @/colecaufield at least it wasn't your phone!

colecaufield i'm being attacked

yourusername @/colecaufield great observation! you're so smart!

_quinnhughes now why are you lying in your caption?

yourusername i told the truth and nothing but the truth, judge quintin

_quinnhughes you frequently make jack and i carry you!

lhughes_06 and me!

jackhughes lying in court is illegal, sissy

yourusername @/jackhughes i didn't swear on a book so technically this is quinn's fault! he raised a liar

_quinnhughes @/yourusername i didn't raise you!

yourusername @_quinnhughes i see how it is... smh

_quinnhughes @/yourusername i quit, i rule you innocent

colesdate did mama hughes get any normal pics of the guys?

yourusername just one because we yelled at them

colesdate you yelled at them too? queen shit

jackhughes @/colesdate she tends to

colecaufield @/colesdate she's really good at it

slknight35 @/colesdate she's a bit crazy

_alexturcotte @/colesdate we live in constant fear

yourusername @/colesdate don't listen to them, they love me

trevorzegras @/colesdate i love her the most!

colesdate y'all are something else😂

yourusername thank you! we take pride in that

friend2 may i take your hand in marriage?

yourusername of course! but you might have to duel with trevor first

friend2 i can take him

trevorzegras @/friend2 i’ll show no mercy

yourusername @/friend2 you could take him

elblue6 i'm glad you kids had fun! you looked absolutely beautiful, sissy❤️

yourusername thank you, mom❤️

253 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 16 days

Text

I AM HOOOMEEEE

and finally decompressed / settled in from the entire ordeal , at least enough to finally get my bearings together and post about it LMAO holy crap, what a wild past two weekends, i'm exhausted but it was a great time, got to meet some great artists, tattoo some great people, and share great art <3 Here are some of my favorites :>

Thank GOD I have this week off from expo's and conventions, I'm definitely ready to chill for a bit. Though I'm definitely cooking up fun community ideas for the LO series finale, so stay tuned for that LOL I do have another convention coming up two weeks from now but it's only a one day thing a couple hours away and it's purely for selling prints n stickers, so it won't be anywhere near as demanding as the 3-day tattoo events LOL

I'll be posting a recompiled version of Episode 50 Pt 2 tomorrow! Sorry to those who were massively inconvenienced by the way I chose to post it, I took a risk and it proved to be a massive failure LMAO but that's how we learn 💅 So expect that tomorrow morning! <3

In the meantime, I'll be getting back to work on Episode 51 as well as responding to as many of the asks in my inbox as I can! Thank you all so much for your patience while I worked through these past two weekends, y'all are the best for that <3

#ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything #lore rekindled #self post #announcement

69 notes · View notes

isa-ghost · 2 months

Note

*places down some money*

Phil headcannons please

*eats the coins whole*

Other qPhil headcanons

He means it 1000% when he says he'd burn the entire island to the ground for the kids. No building would be safe. Not even his own. All bets would be off. And if one of the other parents would do the same for their kid? He'd be right there with them.

He loves every egg, dead and alive alike. He has no clue what any of them think of him, and tbh he'd probably be overly humble or vaguely negative abt it bc he's just so shitty to himself when it comes to image related things, thinking they probably find him weird or smth. But he loves them all, and even if any of the eggs DO have a negative opinion of him, he'd still shed blood sweat and tears for them.

GUYS PLEASE THIS IS CANON BUT he is SO BAD at picking up on certain things if not explicitly told. If you have an issue with bird man you have to TELL HIM. He has a million other things on his mind and he has survival brain on by default which means several other things are taking up brainspace, he doesn't have the means to be looking for subtle signs someone isn't happy with him. FUCKING COMMUNICATE WITH HIM!!

Idk I just think Fit, Pac & Mike should convince him to get high with them. But I can't tell if I want to say he'd actually chill out for once & get a lil goofy or if he'd be the type that gets super anxious & hates every second he's stoned

Has a manga collection. It's not that big series-wise, he's a completionist so his collection is big bc he collects every volume of a series he's interested in. He has all of Bleach ofc, most of Chainsaw Man, probably 1-3 other series. He's preoccupied with other things usually so he hasn't read any of them in ages, but Chayanne has been going WILD reading them when he's not out and about

He gets sluttier when he's drunk. That confidence boost he gets when he's drunk enough goes places. Particularly when he's around Fit (Fit's a bad influence /pos)

Tbh? If his usual civil disobedience and the like don't work, I would not put it past him to follow Cellbit's example and just start killing Feds. I don't know how canon Phil's past is but if this is the man who helped create the Antarctic Empire or the man that leveled an entire country? Quesadilla Island's days are numbered and it will be Specifically to spite Cucurucho and any other Fed that's responsible for whatever Phil has an issue with. All it takes is taking his kids away again or hurting his friends :)

Fr tho if/when he finds out what they did to Jaiden or Baghera or anyone of the other islanders? He WILL be unleashing hell for them.

He's ready at all times to die for someone. The goal is to Not die, but if it comes to it, better him than them. And in classic hypocritical Phil fashion, he vehemently refuses to allow anyone to do the same for him. The survivor's guilt would be too much for him.

Outwardly, he processes grief and stress with humor. Because if he doesn't, he'll shut down emotionally and mentally. But don't think for a second that internally, he's a wreck. He's angry, he's in pain, he's stressed, he's conflicted, he's grieving. He just won't let anyone know he is. He doesn't like admitting it.

That said, GOD do hugs and random acts of kindness during tough/dark times get him. It's a hit straight to the heart. He'll get emotional before he can stop it or mask it. They mean more than anything, and they're the quickest way to make him realize just how much shit he's shouldering and bottling up.

Currently his greatest fear is the Federation finding out about or asking him questions related to Ender King. Normally he'd at least prepare how to answer such questions. In this case he has no clue what to say, which really stresses him out. And he knows fleeing the conversation wouldn't go well.

He doesn't typically do anything special with his hair but goddamn it looks good in a short braid. He only ever does smth with his hair for certain events, like Festa Junina. And that was mostly because Tallulah insisted.

If the Federation one day declared every islander needed some kinda career for whatever weird reason, Phil's would be photography.

Don't listen to his complaining. He REALLY likes that there's so many birds around the house. Prefers them outside but he likes them around regardless.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #qphil headcanons

57 notes · View notes

thisismeracing · 6 months

Text

MICK SCHUMACHER MASTERLIST

✦ MICK SCHUMACHER ▶ MS47

All my Mick posts here

▸ main masterlist | patreon guide ▸ taglist ▸ who I write for & guidelines ▸ subscribe to Patreon for exclusive content ▸ tip me on ko-fi

KEYS: s: smut f: fluff a: angst ✷: Patreon exclusive

― ✦ SERIES

king of my heart: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

― ✦ SOCIAL MEDIA AU

I don't wanna be your ex (f): Y/n and Mick used to be the golden couple in the paddock, that’s why the internet went wild when they announced their breakup. Imagine how they reacted when Y/n dropped a song about not wanting to be his ex. Would the couple have any hope of getting back together?

sunshine (f): In which Mick starts dating an earthy/spiritual girl who just loves nature and good energy.

it was always you (f): Mick and Yn decided to stay friends after breaking off their two years relationship, but it seems like things weren’t that broken. Maybe having the same friend circle and seeing each other all the time meant that things were never really over.

angels like you (a): They say misery loves company, maybe that’s why Yn accidentally made Mick miserable too.

super shy (f): The one where your boyfriend is your biggest fan to the point of turning his account into a fan account or something of the sort. Or, Mick and Yn’s relationship through the years

go shawty (f): Every year Yn gets Mick a unique birthday cake. This year she’s ready to surprise the internet and her boyfriend again.

― ✦ BLURBS

I regret meeting you (a)

Say it again (f)

Friends don't (f)

I think I'm in love (f)

Speak now (a)

Light's on (f)

Suck it (s)

All mine (s)

Morning light (f)

Schatzi (f)

― ✦ REGULAR IMAGINES

our baby Angie (f): What happens when Mick refers to you as Angie's mom?

rosy cheeks, salty hair, warm bodies (s): After finally matching their schedules and booking a trip together, Yn and Mick decide to go to Mallorca for a well-deserved break. The fact that they went weeks without seeing one another and the tension around the hot weather and beach garments only helped build the momentum in which her boyfriend would absolutely ruin her in bed.

cherry (s): Mick has an idea while lying in bed during a lazy weekend, and Yn is more than ready to oblige.

suit testing (s): Yn decides to tease Mick until he gives up and takes her against the bathroom door while still wearing his racing suit.

an avid learner (s): Mick has been nothing but an attentive lover since they started dating, what Yn didn’t know was that he would be even more attentive in bed. It’s their first time having sex, and Mick is an eager learner, he’s set to make sure Yn forgets she ever dated someone before him.

banana pancakes (f): Mick is used to racing cars and living at high speed, but lazy rainy mornings with you are his favorite. Cuddling in bed, making banana pancakes, and listening to the rain fall down while swinging together on the front porch, no travel or circuit beats these moments.

love sips (s): Some bad moments leave the feeling that your whole day was destroyed. Sometimes, all you need to navigate life’s ups and downs is someone to remember you that bad events don’t equal a bad day, Yn decides on a very peculiar approach to remind herself that, and Mick, her boyfriend, is happy to help.

god is a woman (s): Making out in bed never felt this deep and heart-stopping, but dating Mick and having him love you is a full experience of being a goddess. Your hips were his altar, and he would swear to everyone that God is a woman because you’re it to him.

call me obsessed (s): Everyone talks about how good it is to date someone who’s exactly like you, but Mick has been finding it hard to believe, especially when his girlfriend has the same sunshine energy as him. The problem? Too many friendly flirts around her. And though he’s not a jealous guy, he finds himself ready to praise her and prove to her that he’s the only one. You can say he’s obsessed.

twisted love (a): The rule is clear for all celestial beings: to love the Almighty beyond everything. They can’t share the feeling. It is perpetually prohibited for angels to get fond of humans, especially the protector angels. They are the ones who will follow their human on earth and protect each one. Those Angels and the humans are the same pairing throughout time. Mick watched Yn die and come to life in different forms each period, and he fell - in love, and from Heaven. Years after searching for Yn, he found her again and he’s ready to get what’s his.

I'll always take care of you (f): The flu caught you out of the blue and completely unprepared, good thing you have your boyfriend around to take care of you.

to build a home (f)✷: Mick and Yn are used to sharing everything, and always spending time with each other. However, they didn’t notice that things got easier because they ended up pilling some things in one house. His place is theirs now, but the same happened with her place. It only takes their respective siblings one look to figure out the whole situation. Will it scare them, or will they finally move in together?

die from a broken heart (a/f): After a fight with Mick, your secret boyfriend, you find yourself crying in your father’s arms, and it won’t take much for Toto to connect the dots. The thing is: what is going to happen when he finally does?

― ✦ CONCEPTS

college!mick (masterlist)

― ✦ HEADCANONS

♡ how mick is as a boyfriend ● part 02 ♡ aftercare with mick ♡ how mick is as a husband ♡ baby making season ♡ size kink ♡ breeding kink ♡ mick dating a black girl ♡ fighting with mick ♡ choking kink ♡ NSFW alphabet ♡ mick dating a desi girl ♡ mick dating a korean girl ♡ mick dating a girl with anxiety ♡ mick dating a latina ♡ mick dating a K-pop idol

©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work. do not repost on a different media platform.

#ms47 #mick schumacher #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher fanfic #f1 fandom #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #op: masterlists

126 notes · View notes

cellarspider · 3 months

Text

13/?? Science interlude!

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to Prometheus, where I am taking a break to ramble about my job. A thing that I love. It will be a nice change. Also: weird blood!

I have been informed that some methods of accessing tumblr do not play well with long alt text rambles. To keep the flow between the main text and alt text separate, I’ll be copying the longest ones below the main text and citations. Captions that I think are going to be long enough to need this treatment will be marked with “Overflow Ramble [number]”, so they’ll be slightly easier to find. It’s not a perfect system, but Tumblr is not a perfect website.

And I am going to need the overflow space this time, because we’re getting into genetics!

After electrocuting a decapitated alien head until it exploded into a shower of green gore, the creatures that claim to be scientists stuck a bit of the goop in some sort of very science-y DNA machine, leading to this:

“Let's have a look at its DNA. Isolate the strand. Okay. Compare it to the gene sample?”

“[Overlay… Processing… Processing… DNA MATCH.]”

“Oh, my God. It's us.”

I want this preserved for posterity, because this made me absolutely hoot. They avoided fake science technobabble by going so far in the other direction that it becomes equally meaningless.

What the scene is trying to say is “this alien shares the vast majority of its genetic material with humans, indicating that they are in fact related.”

I will get to how one would actually determine that, but first: The head turned into green goop. Green goop. Humans are notably not prone to turning into green goop. Otherwise Nickelodeon would’ve probably been shut down within a week.

(Image credit: Rich Fury/KCA2021/Getty Images for Nickelodeon)

This annoyed me so much that years later, I dug up a possible explanation that backfills this with cool biology.

Humans, and almost all vertebrates have hemoglobin-filled blood. And on a tangent that I must follow: The only vertebrate that doesn’t is the icefish Channichthyidae family, commonly known as the white-blooded fish.

You’ll never guess what’s special about them.

Yes, somehow these fish manage to live without hemoglobin, their blood only having 10% of the oxygen carrying capacity of their red-blooded cousins. Hell, most of them also lack myoglobin, which stores oxygen in muscle. The loss of myoglobin isn’t just a one-off event either, genetic studies have shown that these icefish have seen four distinct branches of their family tree lose myoglobin independently of each other. They have a wild series of adaptations to permit this, but basically they were already in such cold-oxygen rich water and moving so slow that they didn’t need all that extra oxygen-having stuff. They lost it, kept going, got bigger hearts, weirder muscles, and just kept going. They’ve actually expanded their range in the past 30 million years or so!

I love them! Evolution is wild. You know what’s also wild? There’s green-blooded vertebrates. Yes. You read that right. Yes, they still have hemoglobin. What they also have are staggering levels of biliverdin, which human bodies only produce when breaking down hemoglobin–when a bruise takes on a greenish hue, it’s because the dismantling of the blood under your skin has created biliverdin. While it’s generally been thought of as just a breakdown product, some research suggests that it also has protective effects against a number of diseases. In moderation, though. If you have enough of it to actually turn a bit green, you’ve got jaundice, which is not a thing you want to have.

But for a number of fish species, bush frogs, and skinks, they have way more biliverdin.

(Austin, C. C., & Jessing, K. W. (1994). Green-blood pigmentation in lizards. Comparative Biochemistry and Physiology Part A: Physiology, 109(3), 619-626.)

Humans usually don’t have much circulating biliverdin at all, so the table above compares someone with untreated jaundice to a number of other species–fish with two to fourteen times that amount, and the green-blooded skinks have twenty-two times as much! These creatures have green blood and turquoise-colored bones, and we still don’t know why. Maybe it’s protection against diseases, maybe it’s protection against parasites like malaria, maybe it’s to make them really blend in with foliage. Could be all of those at once, could be none of them, we don’t know! What we do know is that, as with the icefish, the green-blooded skinks in particular have independently evolved this feature four different times. (Rodriguez, Z. B., Perkins, S. L., & Austin, C. C. (2018). Multiple origins of green blood in New Guinea lizards. Science Advances, 4(5), eaao5017.)

(https://australian.museum/blog-archive/amri-news/amri-three-tiny-green-blooded-frogs-sing-like-birds/)

(https://web.archive.org/web/20180619143048/https://blog.nationalgeographic.org/2013/09/30/why-do-mysterious-lizards-have-green-blood/)

We have no mammals identified with biliverdin-filled green blood, you would need a lot of tweaks to how our bodies function to make this work. But it’s not literally impossible, like I thought in the theater! I’m quite sure the prop department didn’t do this level of research on the subject, but think about it!

I love biology! It’s! So! Weird!

And because I love biology, you’re not getting rid of me yet. My chosen field is genetics. This movie has presented me with a laughable sci-fi depiction of what we do.

So! What do we actually do, when we want to find out how related we are to another species?

I’m going to get into excruciating detail, so here’s the top-line summary: We extract the DNA, mash it up into readable little chunks, use some wicked cool machines to do the actual reading, and then we compare the target DNA with our DNA, and do some cooler stuff the movie isn’t aware of. A competent analysis would not only be able to tell you how much overlap two genomes have, but also be able to estimate how long the two species have been genetically distinct.

Is this way more than the movie needed for this plot point? Yes. But they didn’t actually have to do this at all, they could’ve just said the truth that science fiction usually ignores for budgetary reasons: “there’s no way these beings independently evolved to look so much like us, we have to be related.”

(Although even Star Trek, despite being the classic example of “putting a rubber thing on an actor’s forehead to make them an alien”, actually does acknowledge this. Precisely once. TNG s6e20, “The Chase”. It has never been mentioned again in the main line series, possibly because Rick Berman didn’t like it.)

Now. Time for me to take you all on a grand tour of DNA sequencing and phylogenetic analysis. You are all getting into the Willy Wonka boat with me. You have no choice.

So! You have a sample you’ve taken from a non-human mammal, one that’s never been genetically analyzed before. You are very lucky. You get to do fun stuff.

But before you get to sequencing, you have to purify any DNA in the sample. Your sample is full of all sorts of other biochemical gunk, and when cells are happy, DNA is packed away in the nucleus–you need to crack those open to get at the DNA.

Next, you need to break the DNA into chunks, that’s #1 on the diagram above. For most of the past twenty years, this has meant chunking DNA down into pieces 25-50 letters long–just enough to probably get something unique over most of the genome, though you will have some areas that look identical at that tiny scale. In recent times, we’ve been getting better and better at what’s called “long read sequencing”, which at this point means fragments of several thousand DNA letters in length–though that’s still pretty short, compared to human chromosomes though: the average length of a human chromosome is 134 million letters long.

Depending on the sequencing technology and its needs, the sample may also need “amplification”: getting copied over and over using a protein originally harvested from hotspring-loving bacteria (#2). I always love that bit just as a concept: it’s one of many places where the modern study of genetics uses the microscopic, biological machinery of proteins for our own use!

After everything’s prepared, Then the sequencing itself can occur. That too is wild–the most common versions these days use tiny little fluorescent proteins to tag each letter of the DNA and read the sequence of lights (#3!). Some use infinitesimally tiny electrical modulations as DNA passes by a microscopic reader. There’s loads of different ways, anything works, so long as it can be read by a computer.

All this takes place in machines that are either small enough to fit on a countertop, or big enough to look like a fridge, and come in Apple White or Cheap Plastic Appliance.

Because you have a new species, you’re building what we call a reference genome. This tries to capture as much of the entire genome sequence as possible. Here’s an interesting wrinkle, though–A lot of samples won’t be just DNA from your target species! You might be picking up microbial DNA along the way as well. That can be really interesting and worth knowing about, though! Some people spend their whole careers studying the genomes of microbes found on people’s skin, or in their bodies. You’ll be computationally sorting out which sequences are in contiguous, mammalian chromosomes, which are from mitochondrial DNA (those cute little powerhouses have their own genomes!), and which come from microbes.

At the end of it, you have sequenced an entire genome. Because you want to find out how related it is to humans, you compare it to our reference genome–The human reference genomes we use is an assembly made from multiple individuals.* We use the reference genome as a common point of comparison that we refer to when studying genetic variation.

*Though if you’re working with data form the Genome Reference Consortium as is usually standard, one anonymous African-European donor, RP11, is still the backbone of the reference, accounting for 70% of the latest assembly.

(https://mk.bcgsc.ca/telomere-to-telomere-human-genome-assembly/posters.mhtml)

So, we’d compare this new mammalian genome to our own–how much overlap would we find? A lot. How you define our similarities and differences from other species can change the answer, but you’ll expect a lot of overlap. Some areas of the genome diverge faster than others, others are highly conserved–generally the more stable it is, the more important it is for our function.

Through many, many, many studies and corroboration with the archaeological record, we’ve worked out how to estimate how long ago two species diverged from each other. Actually, you’d rarely be comparing between just two species at this stage–get out all the other relevant reference genomes you’ve got! Compare them all! Build a phylogenetic tree–the modern version of that “tree of life” idea that Darwin popularized. Then you’ll have a more accurate sense of how your mystery species relates to everything.

(https://www.embl.org/news/science/a-new-tree-of-life-allows-a-closer-look-at-the-origin-of-species/)

I’m going to go off on a tangent to end this post, because that’s just the start, taking the entire genome of a single individual. This is what most people think is what we always do. But no! That’s expensive overkill for most experiments. Once you’re familiar with a species, and you’ve sequenced DNA from many individuals, you can identify areas where lots of them have sequence variants. These can be completely benign, differences that make us all unique, or make an individual more susceptible to disease. This allows us to target what we want out of DNA sequencing: Are we trying to diagnose an illness? Identify a person from a tissue sample? Or are we doing something more exploratory?

Depending on what you want, you select anywhere from a handful of locations, up to tens of thousands. The closest many people have gotten to this stuff is through ancestry services like 23andMe, which uses this kind of sequencing.

But that’s not all! There’s so many different targets to choose from, depending on what you want to do! So many techniques to get DNA in different ways! And we still haven’t gotten to the part that I actually work on.

I’m a computational geneticist. I get all the gigabytes of data that comes out of these experiments and I get to dig into the details, the patterns that emerge between genetic code and the details of the organisms we study, the connections between genome sequence and other, wilder things we can collect data on, the dizzying complexities of what goes on every microsecond of every day in every cell in your body.

I love my job.

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | ⛬

⛬

Citations for alt-text rambles:

1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_YuTMDkWfI 2. https://doi.org/10.1242/jeb.116129 note: this source lists the image as credit to “J.M.B.”, which is not how I’m used to seeing images credited. Those are the initials of one of the authors, but I thought it meant “Journal of Molecular Biology”, so I went on a half hour wander around the internet trying to find where the hell this fish blood came from. 3. https://www.thebhs.org/publications/the-herpetological-journal/volume-13-number-4-october-2003/1729-01-hyperbiliverdinemia-in-the-shingleback-lizard-tiliqua-rugosa 4. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1439-0264.2009.00952.x 5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandrill#Characteristics 6. https://www.vogue.com/article/dune-part-two-costumes-jacqueline-west-interview 7. http://dx.doi.org/10.13140/RG.2.2.29564.08327 8. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/357946568_New_approaches_and_concepts_to_study_complex_microbial_communities 9. https://karobben.github.io/2023/10/30/Bioinfor/PacBio/

Overflow Ramble 1

the fuckin “DNA MATCH” machine. I already wrote a 380-word alt-text about this thing last time. I’m not doing it again. I’m going to talk about things I like instead. Such as Dune: Part Two! Yes! I mentioned it last week and then didn’t ramble about it after seeing it. Well, NOW I WILL. tl;dr it’s good, go see it. I only vaguely remember the book, but I liked the changes they made to center the fact that no, Paul becoming Lisan al-Gaib is not actually a good thing.

Man, it’s nice to see a movie where the costumers and set designers got good time to work on their craft. (cite 6) Even the generic Harkonnen soldiers looked great–reminded me a lot of my beloved Warframe, probably because the costume designer was using H.R. Giger for inspiration there. Everything felt real. Even the stuff that definitely wasn’t–the gigantic spice harvesters and ships felt like living, physically present beings. The sand worms looked great. The movie did a fantastic job visually communicating the massive size of so many things. Especially because the camera remains restrained: no weightless zipping around, the camera itself follows paths and finds locations that make sense.

Chakobsa continues to be a fantastic conlang, now the work of both David and Jesse Peterson. It’s heard a lot more in this movie, and there are some great flourishes with it. While there isn’t as much Arabic vocabulary in it as in the original books, I remember from DJP’s work streams that he definitely was using the grammar of Arabic as one of his touchstones. Most key words remain Arabic though–jihad was removed, but it made me double-take in the theater when Stilgar referred to Paul as the Mahdi.

I’m of two minds about lowering the Arab influences on the Fremen–on the one hand, missing representation, which included some explicit ties to real world anti-imperial struggles in North Africa and the Middle East. On the other, these first two movies are about how the Fremen are manipulated by a colonial power, using their adherence to a faith that was manipulated by a different colonial power. They become both hapless victims and also perpetrators of colonial violence, with only Chani seeing through it.

I think the general decisionmaking process on cultural changes was motivated by a desire to remove some of Frank Herbert’s bad ideas–particularly around the Harkonnens, thank fuck. That seems to have been the thinking around altering the Fremen a bit as well. Did it succeed? Not my place to say. On all other notes, I have no reservations recommending the movie. It’s a very earnest attempt to bring that world to life, and I think it succeeds.

Overflow Ramble 2

A figure showing the basic steps of the standard Illumina sequencing method (cite 7). It is broken into four sub-figures:

Library Preparation. The genome is snipped into small fragments, then adapters are attached (“ligated”) to stabilize the molecule and make it behave. This creates a “library” of DNA that will be read from.

DNA library bridge amplification. The adapters on DNA fragments stick to a prepared plate, which is covered in little clusters of molecules that specially attach to those adapters. Biochemical processes are then carried out in repeated cycles to duplicate (or “amplify”) those fragments in such a way that the clusters on the plate are all filled with copies of just one DNA fragment.

DNA library sequencing. The DNA is modified so that the four letters it’s made out of all glow a specific color, with each DNA letter shining in sequence. This is pure awesome and I love it.

Alignment and data analysis. Because of some details on how step 1 is done, you have lots of fragments that create an overlapping patchwork of sequences. This allows (most of) the genome to be pasted back together by looking for overlaps (“contiguous sequences”, or “contigs” for short).

Congratulations! You have just attended an abridged graduate-level introductory lecture on Illumina sequencing.

Overflow Ramble 3

A diagram of PacBio Systems’ sequencing technology, Single Molecule, Real-Time Sequencing, or SMRT Sequencing, because scientists love acronyms. Pretty much every step is different from how Illumina does it. I cannot find a diagram that’s both brief and also good at explaining what it’s showing, so this is the best I could find. It’s split into four parts with attendant text, which I’ll try and explain as well.

“SMRTbell template. Two hairpin adapters allow continuous circular sequencing.”

Library preparation basically involves taking a longer chunk of DNA and splitting it in half lengthwise, in such a way that the two strands of DNA will form a single-stranded loop. This is called a SMRTbell library. Why? I have no idea!

“ZMW wells. Sites where sequencing takes place.”

Then, these are fed into SMRT Cells, which contain zero-mode waveguides (ZMWs). I was once told what this means, and I have completely forgotten, but it sounds like something from Gundam.

“Modified polymerase. As a nucleotide is incorporated by the polymerase, a camera records the emitted light.”

What I do understand is that at the bottom of each of these little holes, they stick a molecule which the DNA sticks to. This molecule, a polymerase, has precisely one job: make more DNA, an exact copy of what it’s latched onto. So you give it this loop of DNA, feed it a soup of free DNA letters, and it starts cranking out a new strand.

“PacBio output. A camera records the changing colours from all ZMWs; each colour change corresponds to one base.”

Each one of the DNA letters given to the polymerase has a special modifier, on it which flashes a color when the polymerase slots it into the new strand it’s making. A camera picks up this flash. And, because the DNA is a circle, the polymerase doesn’t know where to stop–it just keeps going and going until something breaks or it runs out of letters to work with. This means that even if the camera misses a flash the first time, it will have more chances to see it, and confirm what it already saw.

Wait what in the fuck this figure was from somebody’s thesis (cite 8), but that wasn’t what actually got this into search results. What got it there was a github page with a vtuber avatar sitting in the corner?? What??? (cite 9)

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

#Prometheus 2012 #Prometheus (2012)#I go rogue and refuse to talk about the movie #or rather I spend 4600 words talking about a quarter of a scene as a springboard to talk about my job and how cool it is #I kind of envy people who work on wild population genetics #but also their sample sizes are tiny and bad for my particular specialty #so I'm giving a broad overview on how reference genome assembly works and I've only ever done phylogenetics on intraspecific variants #yes this is how much I talk about bits of my job that aren't even directly my job #because working in genetics is SO COOL #tomorrow we'll be back to analyzing inexplicable characters and androids poisoning people don't worry

41 notes · View notes

icallhimjoey · 2 years

Text

I've Got You

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your flatmate have perfected the art of wingmanship for one another. It’s a great system that seems to work every single time, until you’re left unsatisfied.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, rpf, fem!reader, smut, angst

Author’s note: baby’s first smutty series - sorry if it’s bad! The insane reaction I got to part 4 was really unexpected and I loved every second of it - I really hope part 5 lives up to everyone's expectation!! Extra special thanks to my buddies @ghostinthebackofyourhead and @dirtyeddietini for inspiring, encouraging and being so very unbearably supportive for absolutely no reason: I love ya! (rewritten on 13 nov 2023)

Wordcount: 5.1K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe meant for you to talk to that girl for him. You scanned Joe’s face to see if he was joking. Hoped he was joking. Please, be joking.

But all you could see was drunken haziness in Joe’s eyes and you swore your vision coloured pure red for a second.

Oh no.

Feelings.

You managed to keep a fairly straight face, but you felt how anger washed over you. How it engulfed and swallowed you right up. You were seething. Absolutely livid.

Mostly at Joe, but you also felt some of it clawing at you inwardly. You were angry with yourself because, of course.

Of fucking course.

Why the fuck was this not what you had expected on this night out?

You were an idiot.

So was Joe.

But you, my God. You were the biggest idiot ever. But now was not the time to punish yourself. You'd just been given a task, hadn't you?

Your flatmate had seen a pretty girl he wanted you to talk to for him. To work your magic on her.

So, you clenched your jaw, and your expression went cold. You could almost feel the protection mechanisms within your body turn on to guard you, thick walls shooting up all around you as you turned away from Joe to walk over to the beautiful blonde girl in the corner.

With every step, you felt more outside of yourself, slightly more dazed, the loud music a little more muffled in your ears as everything went a little fuzzy, but, there was no mistaking. You were absolutely on your way to talk to this girl for Joe.

Just before you reached her, you looked back and saw that Joe was watching you. Your eyes almost let a little sadness slip through, and you hoped Joe didn’t catch it.

When you made eye contact with her, a moment you would normally use to display your best smile, you leant in and touched her arm, your face expressionless when you spoke to her.

She seemed kind and immediately ducked her head down and leant in a little to listen to you.

As you were talking, her eyes found Joe’s, and he smirked at her. Just for a moment, she smiled back at him, but then, her face contorted, and she leant back to look at you before leaning in to speak into your ear over the music.

Joe was watching the two of you talk to each other from afar, a little confused.

This wasn’t how this usually went.

You exchanged more words with the beautiful blonde, and Joe thought it was taking too long. It never took this long. Then, in a wild turn of events, he saw the girl pout at you, all empathetic eyes and scrunched up brows as she pulled you in for a hug.

Joe tried to make sense of what he was witnessing.

Couldn't.

He read your lips as you told her, “You’re welcome.” before you turned away and started on your way over back to Joe.

The beautiful blonde didn’t follow you, and Joe didn’t understand.

“What happened? What did you tell her?” Joe questioned when you were close enough.

“I’ve got the flat tonight,” you didn’t want to see him for a bit and claimed the flat just to have it for yourself.

You passed him and carried on your way towards the exit, face still just as flat and emotionless as it had been when you'd spoken to this random girl you'd never seen before. You would've remembered her if you had, you thought. She was the kind of pretty where you knew she'd look almost better first thing in the morning.

Of course Joe had picked her from the crowd.

Of course.

Yea, there was no way you were going to stay at the bar for any longer.

Fuck this evening.

You felt Joe’s fingers wrap around your wrist from behind you in a weak bid to make you stay, but you were quick to snag your arm away from him and didn’t bother looking back.

The whole way back to your flat, there was one thought that you couldn’t shake. There were many other thoughts, sure, like, Joe was a bastard, and also a knobhead… and a wanker, an idiot, a tosser, a twat, just– all of the above.

And you, you were an idiot, and also stupid… and foolish, naive, and gullible, because you’d unknowingly convinced yourself that there’d been more to you and Joe.

It had just been a week and you’d been dumb enough to now think that you were more than just flatmates who casually got each other off sometimes.

But the absolute worst thought, one that kept creeping back in no matter how much you tried to evict it from your brain permanently, was that you had feelings for Joe now.

Feelings.

For Joe!

Absolutely disgusting.

When you heard the front door to your flat open, you checked your phone and saw it was 4 o’clock in the morning. You weren’t entirely sure if you’d slept. It felt like your mind had just been racing thoughts, but they could’ve also been dreams. All you knew is that you felt awful, emotionally, but physically too, as you felt your hangover creep in in real time.

The way Joe moved into the flat was incredibly delicately done, like he didn’t want you to know that he was creeping in. The click of the door closing was almost undetectable from your spot in your bed, even with your bedroom door left ajar.

You had said that you had the flat, so technically, Joe should have at least texted to check if it was okay to come in.

But then again, Joe had probably also seen you leave by yourself a couple of hours earlier, so he must’ve gathered it was okay to come in. Or, he was just drunk, like you had been when you’d walked in hours earlier.

Come to think of it, you had a hard time recollecting your own stumbling into the flat if you were honest.

You could hear the soft ruffle of shoes being taken off and very carefully placed down onto the floor. It was followed by soft footsteps of socks that slid down your hall, the door to your bathroom then opening and closing before the light switch flicked on inside.

Why did Joe smell of pineapple?

And why were you able to smell it from your bedroom?

You listened as the shower turned on, the water clattering against the tiles, and you tried to focus on the white noise of it to help you drift off instead of the visual of Joe’s naked wet body in the room next to yours.

You stirred awake slightly when you felt your covers move on your left and the mattress dipping in.

“Hey,” Joe softly whispered and cuddled up behind you, like he so very often would do.

Your groggy mind momentarily chose to ignore every negative emotion towards your flatmate that had been brewing inside you and you relaxed under his arm that squeezed around your waist, pressing your bodies together.

Joe smelled like your shampoo, mixed with your body scrub. You could feel him move your hair aside, away from where his face then nuzzled into the crook of your neck, and you tried to hide the emotion that shot up into your throat unexpectedly.

But Joe had felt it – the small gasp, the quickened breathing, the tensing of your stomach; it was all too telling.

It only made him want to squeeze you into him tighter, but he didn’t get the chance to. Stubborn as you were, you refused to crack where Joe could see, so you moved away from his grasp.

“Don’t use my stuff in the shower.” You spoke into the dark and you used your hand to remove Joe’s from your waist, scooting over until your bodies were no longer touching.

For a few seconds it was eerily quiet behind you.

No movement, no breathing; like Joe wasn’t there for a second.

Then, you felt and heard him move, turning over in the bed to face away from you.

You spent maybe ten more minutes listening to Joe’s breathing before you decided you didn’t want to be there and got up and out to spend the last early morning hours fast asleep on the sofa.

For the next few days, you didn’t talk about it, because what was there to say? You avoided Joe like the plague because that way you could also avoid confronting your feelings, which was just easier, you thought.

It was annoying that you didn’t know Joe’s schedule, and that he spent a lot of time at home.

It was even more annoying that before anything had ever really happened between the two of you, you used to be flirty and touchy on a more platonic level and it was something you couldn’t muster yourself up to sink back into.

Joe tried a few times, asking you to have lunch with him that day, or when you found him making lasagna from scratch, asking you if you wanted some later.

You declined all of it, mostly without giving any excuses or reasons why. Just a simple “no thanks” with a polite smile, a nose scrunch, giving Joe your most normal, casual self, but definitely a more distant version of you than before.

Obviously, Joe had noticed. And he hadn’t liked it.

You had noticed something too.

There were a lot more annoying things about Joe that you didn’t think you had ever noticed before.

Joe would always leave his shoes under the coffee table, a place where they didn’t go, and it made the living room look a right mess. And Joe would hang the toilet paper under instead of over, so you’d correct it, only to later find it back the way he liked it. And Joe would still secretly use your products in the bathroom – you found a tube of lip balm you thought you’d lost in the washing machine after Joe had done a load of his washing, and it was almost entirely used up by him.

Maybe it was time to ask for a raise at work, just so you could afford a flat of your own, because every day more little things started getting on your nerves.

Wednesday seemed a day where everything had gone wrong at work, and all of it felt like it had been your fault. Frustrations built and as the day dragged on, you felt less and less equipped to deal with them.

From about 3 o’clock that afternoon, you’d started fantasizing about the pint of caramel core ice cream that was still in your freezer, and you hoped Joe would be out so you could watch an early 2000s romantic comedy and cry into your ice cream on the sofa.

You couldn’t think of anything else to ease the stress– wait, no, you could, but having your flatmate… crack your neck no longer felt like an option.

But when you walked in after work, Joe was there.

On the sofa.

Watching TV.

And the flat smelled like a bakery.

“Hey!” Joe shouted from the sofa, all upbeat and cheery. “How was work?”

You stepped into the living room whilst shrugging your coat from your shoulders.

“Fine,” you looked around and frowned quizzically.

“Did you bake bread?” your tone was almost accusatory, and it made Joe laugh.

His laugh was stupid and adorable.

You hated it.

“I made ciabatta rolls, they’re cooling in the kitchen.”

You turned to see for yourself and found about twelve perfect-looking hand-palm-sized baby ciabattas on a baking tray on the counter.

Funny how you got to slog knee-deep through shit at work all day, and Joe got to recreationally bake bread in your kitchen.

So fair.

Very equal.

Not at all infuriating.

It was also very fun how Joe left all of the washing up in the sink, when the dishwasher was empty and open right next to it.

You had to mentally count to ten and take a huge gulp of air to calm yourself down from the sight of the mess.

“What do you think?” Joe called from the sofa.

You eyed them again as you opened the freezer door.

“They look great,” you spoke without a fibre of enthusiasm.

You reached for your pint of ice cream, so ready to dig into it, even if it wasn’t going to be with a bad, sappy film on because Joe was there.

But when you grabbed hold of it, fury washed over you instantly and engulfed you entirely.

It was empty.

There was no weight to it.

You opened the pint to check, but you knew what you’d be met with before you’d seen the inside: an empty container that used to hold your favourite flavour of ice cream.

Joe.

“If they’re okay to touch, you could try one if you want,” Joe suggested, oblivious to the fact that you were near a lot of knives and ready to straight up murder someone.

Okay, knives felt a bit extreme, so instead, you reached for the next best thing.

“Would you like to try one yourself?!”

Your voice had grown louder and angrier with every word of your question. Joe didn’t have time to register the hostility in your voice – he didn’t even have time to turn his head to look at you. If he had done, you would’ve hit him square in the eye, but now, one of Joe’s own freshly baked crusty ciabatta rolls smacked him hard in the temple.

“Hey, what–”

Another dense ciabatta roll hit him in the chest, leaving behind a white, dusty flour print on his black T-shirt.

“Ate my fucking ice cream, Joe?!”

You were stood in the doorway, tray in one hand, the next roll ready to be flung at him in the other. Joe really made them the perfect size; they fit perfectly into your palm, fingers gripping around it with ease – excellent for throwing with force.

“My rolls!” Joe cried.

“My rolls!” you mocked him, facial expression and all, and you saw Joe get up from the sofa to fetch the bread you’d already thrown at him.

You threw another, getting flour in his hair this time as you hit him on the back of his head, surprising yourself with your good aim since your body felt shaky with adrenaline.

“What fucking self-centered, greedy bastard eats a pint of their flatmate’s favourite ice cream and then places the empty container back in the freezer?!”

You were quick to launch another roll his way, but Joe expertly caught it this time. It only angered you more, and you fumbled fast to throw another, but your aim was completely off this time as you rushed it, and you hit the sofa behind him.

“Stop fucking tossing my ciabatta rolls about!” Joe carefully placed them on the coffee table next to him.

“Honestly, I can’t fucking believe you,” you dropped the tray with the rest of Joe’s bread onto the floor in frustration. It clattered loudly and had bread rolling everywhere before you started to make your way over to your bedroom, away from his face, no longer able to stand it.

“Fuck you and– stop leaving your fucking shoes under the coffee table!” you screamed when you saw them as Joe stepped away towards the dropped ciabatta rolls to pick them up.

“I was looking forward to that ice cream all fucking day!” you stepped into the hallway, took a few steps, turned around and walked right back into the living room.

You had more to say.

“And another thing!” you were going to get every little bit of frustration out.

“Stop using up all of my products in the bathroom! Some of it’s really expensive!”

From his kneeling position, gathering all of the dropped bread rolls, Joe looked up at you and you spotted a faint red mark where you’d hit him with bread on the side of his face.

Good, you thought.

“And the fucking mess in the sink? The dishwasher is right next to it! Ready to be loaded up! Why would you– why would you not just– just, put it in there!”

You squeezed your eyes tightly shut as you let your arms flail about, motioning in all different directions.

“Are you done?”

“Caramel core, Joe. What is your problem?!”

You were ready to turn around and leave to go to your bedroom for real this time, but Joe stopped you.

“Are you finished?” his unrelentingly harsh tone of voice shut you up in an instant, and a little bit of the anger that shone out of your eyes was replaced with wary surprise.

Joe seemed angry too.

“Because first of all, I didn’t fucking eat your ice cream, what do you take me for?!” Joe repeatedly pushed his finger into his chest before gesturing at you.

“Secondly, I baked these today! Today! I baked them, by myself, with my own hands!” Joe talked about the ciabatta rolls like they were sacred treasures to be protected.

If you could get your hands on them again, you’d rip them all to shreds, just because now you knew it would hurt him extra.

For a moment you just stared at Joe, your nostrils flaring, thinking of more things to hurl his way now that he was stood there, ready to take it. There was an obvious thing you wanted to throw in his face, but you couldn’t muster up the courage to, so you just stood there and resisted the urge to stomp your foot like a fucking toddler as you huffed at him.

Joe suddenly seemed enraptured by your rage, and it was as if he had read your mind.

“... want to tell me what’s actually bothering you?”

He voice was much quieter than before, and you saw the beginnings of a smirk on Joe’s face. You hated how Joe was scanning you wholly, gathering up how pent up you really were in that moment as he stepped closer towards you.

It prompted you to take a step back.

“What’s really got you this riled up?”

You couldn’t speak as you found yourself stepping backwards into the kitchen with Joe slowly stalking forward.

Your eyebrows deepened your frown, scrunching together in anger even more, trying to reject the incoming thought of how hot you thought Joe looked.

“Are you trying to avoid me? Like you’ve been doing for fucking days?” Joe accused, and you saw a flash of what you thought might have been pain in his eyes as he bit into his bottom lip, and it hit you right in the chest.

“I’ve not been–” you tried to deny, but Joe took away your chance to speak, kissing you forcefully, running on nothing but adrenaline and want, crashing you into the kitchen counter behind you.

It felt like Joe wanted to devour you on the spot, and instead of pushing him away and slapping him across the face like you wanted to do, you realised you wanted to let the anger drown into Joe this way even more.

Joe was nothing but harsh, bruising touches, and you clawed back at Joe, scratching him and biting into his kiss. His grabbing hands squeezed into your waist strongly before one reached down to hoist up a thigh you wrapped around his body.

“I hate you so much,” you panted into his mouth as Joe’s nose pressed hard into your cheek. Your comment made one of his hands come up to grab your face, your cheeks pinched between his hand in a tight grip, and he pulled back to look at you.

He held you there a moment. Looked you in the eye. Scanned your features for a second.

And then, “Turn around.”.

His low gravelly voice, thick with hunger for you, made you do exactly as you were told. Your hands were quick to undo the button of your jeans, leaving Joe to pull them down with ease.

Yes.

Joe pushed you slightly, bending you over the counter, and as you turned your head to the side, you caught sight of all the dishes in the sink.

N– no.

“I’m not– I am not just another one of your hook-ups,” you warned him, your voice still thick with anger.

Look at how fucking messy Joe had left the kitchen.

“Neither am I,” Joe answered back just as quickly, fumbling out of his jeans behind you.

That shut you right up.

Joe slipped into you with ease, his front pressed tightly against your back as he bent over you, and he chuckled into your ear at how ready you seemed for him.

You couldn’t help but gasp at his intrusion. Joe’s arm came around your neck as he straightened himself and pulled you up with him until your head was leant back against his shoulder.

Made it a little hard to breathe.

You were sort of into it.

Shit.

Joe made sure to keep you there, arm firmly stuck in place and pressed at the underside of your neck with fingers dug into the cap of your shoulder. He wasn’t gentle in his movements, immediately starting a rough, steady pace into you whilst panting heavily into your ear.

“Want to tell me why you got six girls to drench me in their cocktails?”

You focussed solely on Joe’s thrusting, moaning at particular sharp ones, unable to answer a question you didn’t even have enough context for to understand properly.

“What did you tell her, huh?”

Joe meant the blonde, and you swore at him under your breath for bringing her up whilst having you half naked, pressed up against the counter in your dirty kitchen as the sound of loud skin-slapping filled the room.

“The truth,” was all you managed to get out, your voice all constricted, gasping for air.

“Yea? You think I don’t give girls my number because they don’t let me fuck their mouths?”

Oh.

You didn’t think she’d tell him that.

Then again, you didn’t even think she’d talk to him at all after your chat. Because Joe was right, that was what you had told her. You’d said to her that the guy that was staring at her from across the room was keen to take her home, but that she should know he was the type of guy to use her for his own pleasure and then wouldn’t even give her his number if she didn’t want to take his dick into her mouth.

“Is that why I had to walk around smelling like tropical fruit juice for hours?”

A laugh escaped your throat – you couldn’t help it. Was the wrong move, though.

It made Joe strengthen his grip around your neck in response, making you whimper immediately, your fingers finding his forearm to wrap around in a bid for him to loosen it.

Joe’s pace picked up too, as did his grunts, and you felt his other hand curl around your hip as fingers found your most sensitive spot to rub, making you moan loudly.

“Pineapple,” your strained voice slipped out. “You smelled of pineapple,” you remembered.

Joe’s opened lips dragged against the side of your face as you tilted your head back further. Still pressed against the hard line of his body, you turned your face and connected your lips with his in a heated kiss full of swallowed groans of pleasure.

Joe’s fingers rubbed against you furiously, the movements quickly becoming too much for you as you felt the familiar feeling of your orgasm deep within your core building up and flushing your cheeks.

You were about to announce to Joe that you weren't far off coming as one of your hands shot down to grab his wrist, but Joe’s unwavering thrusting and rubbing had you unexpectedly groaning through your high as he panted against your face, mouth agape, as was yours.

He didn’t even let you finish experiencing your orgasm fully.

Joe turned you around in his arms, slipping out of you for just a second, and before you were even aware of what was happening, he had you lifted with your legs wrapped around his hips.

He guided you back down onto him effortlessly, one arm strongly around your hips to keep you up, the other hand cradling the back of your head, fingers tangled up into your hair as he pushed you into his kiss.

You were ready for him to start ramming into you again, but instead, Joe started walking, taking you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. He was about to step into your bedroom, but you stuck an arm out that slapped against the wall, stopping you in your doorway.

“Don't go– we can't in mine. Yours. We need to in your bed,” you demanded, and you tried to push off from the wall in trying to guide Joe away from your bedroom and towards his own.

Joe wasn't having it.

“Fuck that. We’re ruining yours,” and Joe pushed forward, not leaving you a leg to stand on, literally and figuratively, as he let the both of you fall onto your mattress.

You expected Joe to continue with fury-filled thrusts, but you instead were met with a soft, teasing kiss and slow movements from his hips.

And, whatever had just gone down in the kitchen was nice, but this?

This was nicer.

When Joe tugged at your top, you momentarily broke from each other as you pulled it over your head. It was quickly followed by your bra, and Joe’s lips found your neck to press wet kisses into when you collapsed back onto the bed, now both fully naked.

You let your fingernails scrape long lines across his back, up and down in a slow pace, and you felt Joe squirm a little under your touch. The sudden shift in the mood left you space to think your thoughts freely, which is why you suddenly wondered...

“Why did you send me over to that girl to talk to her for you?”

Joe halted everything he was doing for a second to look you in the eye.

That wasn't something he expected you to ask him. Not right now, not during, anyway.

“You... you’d left me on my own for forty minutes,” he answered, then leant down a little, nuzzling his nose around yours, his tongue slipping out to lightly feather across your lips. He licked the teethmarks on your bottom lip that you left there. That he made you leave there.

“I thought you’d fucked off with someone else.”

You felt your stomach twisting in knots as your eyebrows pulled together.

“After last week? I could never,” you confessed, letting your hands run from Joe’s back up into his hair.

“No?” Joe sought your eyes again, sounded fucking hopeful as you used your hands to pull him back down into a kiss.

You felt him smile against your lips.

Such a sap.

Joe's turn to confess.

“I don’t give out my number because I have a hot flatmate I'm very fond of,” Joe then said, speaking into your mouth, and the dopamine-rush from his words would’ve toppled you over had you not been laid out under him.

Joe’s thrusts were slow and long, with hands finding your creases and curves to squeeze into softly.

His pace never picked up, remaining agonizingly slow, and he kept his hips closely connected with yours in his ruts, applying pressure exactly where you wanted it applied.

Joe took the time to study your face closely, seeing your face contort when hitting the right spots. You caught his eye, and upon seeing his expression, you immediately grew embarrassed.

Joe was giving it to you good, and it was almost upsetting how into it you were.

“It’s okay,” Joe cooed. “I’ve got you.”

He pressed his forehead against yours and you could almost feel the two of you fuse together within your eye-contact.

You really had to try your hardest to not absolutely ruin the moment and cry. You closed your eyes when it became too much, and Joe sensed it perfectly, dipping down to kiss your neck once more, having learnt by now that you really did like that a lot.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked into your neck, and you shook your head in annoyance.

Could Joe not see how fucking romantic the two of you were being in this moment?

You gripped both hands firmly around his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you lifted your hips higher to let Joe hit an even deeper part of you. The new angle, and the way Joe never let much of you disconnect, hurdled you towards another orgasm. Joe followed closely behind, and he came with broken moans into your neck as his hips jerked and bucked throughout his orgasm.

After that, Joe didn’t move for a while, remaining inside of you, head in the crook of your neck with your fingers softly stroking lines along his back as he struggled to regulate his breathing.

When he finally did, he pulled back to look at you.

You looked... dishevelled.

Hair a mess, your eyes bleary and blinking with make-up smudged everywhere, face blotched and flushed but, your expression very satisfied.

Joe thought you had never looked prettier.

“I really didn’t eat your ice cream,” Joe broke the silence, and it pulled a giggle out of you before you groaned in shame.

“I think... I'm sorry, I think I ate it myself when I came home drunk that night,” you confessed with a guilty nose scrunch which prompted Joe to lean down and kiss it.

“Sorry.”

“I know it’s not what you wanted,” Joe pressed a kiss to your temple where he could see a faint tear stain run from your eye into your hair. “But I do have something else for you to eat...”

You made a face a Joe.

“Is it bread?”

Joe found the other side of your head, and kissed your temple there too.

“Freshly baked.” He quipped, eyebrows raised high up on his face, ignoring the fact that every single one of his ciabatta rolls had touched the floor by your doing.

He leant back a little to see you smile at him, to get a proper good look, prompting a wide grin to spread across his face too.

And, you know what?

“I’d love some.”

the end

-----

The Taglisted: @ghostinthebackofyourhead @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @jssmth5 @nobody-000 @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @thefemininemystiquee @dirtyeddietini @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @harringtonfan4 @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 - add yourself

#I've Got You #part 5 #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #joe quinn smut #joseph quinn smut #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #smut #fanfic

599 notes · View notes

lildoodlenoodle · 11 months

Text

Spider Freaks(affectionate) no.7

Spider Noir:

Unlike most spider people, Noir wasn’t bitten by a radioactive spider, but rather a mystical spider that came out of a statue of a spider god. After being bit he sees or hallucinates a spider god, Anansi(Akan), Ereshkigal(Mesopotamian), or Neith(Egyptian) all are possibilities(kinda but that’s another post). He wakes up covered in webs and has spider powers. It’s kinda similar to Araña/Aña(Anya) Corazón in some respects to their origins.

So right off the bat, his powers are mystical and not radioactive, which is evident in how his spider sense presents. He does have super strength, but it is a fair bit below the average spider person. We’ve seen him more or less control some spiders that we believe are the same type as the one that bit him. He has organic webbing that is black(it’s white in the movie and in some comics, but it stayed black in my heart). Because of the mystical aspect to his powers there is most likely more beneath the surface but we’re getting into headcanon territory.

WELCOME TO HEADCANON TERRITORY

Personally, I think all the spiders should be freaks. Make them more like spiders, make them less human, love that shit.

Spider noir powers are mystic(or multidimensional depending on how you wanna spin it)in origin. With most spiders powers it’s very concrete on how they got them and what the effects of said event were. Noir is a bit of a wild card in that respect, because we don’t even know if the spider god is real or not. Spider Noir is an unreliable narrator because of that.

Now the color webbing change and what that means:

No, I don’t like it but it furthers a theory I have. If the spider god is real then it is changing Peter throughout the series. Originally the webbing was black, after Peter meets the other spider people it turns white(this was probably an artistic choice due to new people being on the comic but still). This shows that he’s still changing AFTER the initial bite. We’ve seen something like this with other versions of Spider-Man, but they usually keep changing until they turn into an actual spider-human creature. The difference between Noir and those other examples is that a radioactive spider is not sentient. It is not choosing how much of a spider you are becoming. A spider god on the other hand very much could.

Now this, this could mean anything. What does a spider god consider to be important spidery changes? It’s difficult to tell for a bunch of reasons, especially for the ‘Why?’. But things I’d think could be possibilities include:

BLACK WEBBING

Claws/talons

Excessive hair

Exhibiting spidery behavior/instincts

Extra limbs

Fangs with venom(could liquify preys’ inside or just be death or paralyzing venom)

Mandibles

More eyes

Oral pedipalps

Spider limbs(think Kaine Parker)

Split lower jaw

Split upper jaw

Stinger(again Kaine Parker)

Talking to spiders

And more, probably. The ones in bold are my HCs but literally any of these could happen if he continues to ‘mutate’.

And, last one, brought to you courtesy of Burning Matches on AO3, the wind. Remember that scene from the first movie?

“Wherever I go the wind follows, and the wind smells like rain”*dramatic pose*

This could totally be put on the role of an exaggerated caricature of a noir film PI Noir is filling but let’s assume it’s not. Instead it’s a manifestation of the spider god, ‘following’ him. Because it’s not wind, it’s breathing. Which is insane and terrifying but it is one of my favorite headcanons that came out of that fic.

Feel free to add any more freaky biology or spidergod headcanons in the comments/tags! I love hearing this shit!!!

#spiderman noir #Spider-Man #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider god #spider noir #ITSV #ATSV #spider noir conspiracies

162 notes · View notes

lol-jackles · 3 months

Note

So apparently, per a CE email, they are full on rebranding the 2024 SPN Con Tour as Jensen's:

We have some thrilling news to share with all of our fellow fans of The Boys! Creation is excited to present The Road So Far… The Road Ahead 2024 Tour, featuring none other than Jensen Ackles, who plays Soldier Boy in the hit Amazon Prime series. This is a special opportunity for fans to come together and celebrate Jensen Ackles' iconic role as Dean Winchester in Supernatural, as well as his new role in The Boys franchise. PLUS, we have more amazing SPN guests on the tour, including Misha Collins ("Castiel"), Jared Padalecki ("Sam Winchester") -- and Jeffrey Dean Morgan ("John Winchester") and Rob Benedict ("Chuck/God"), who will be joining The Boys cast in the upcoming Season 4! Watch the trailer for Season 4 above! Whether you're a longtime fan of Jensen or a new admirer, join us for a weekend filled with panel discussions, meet and greets, photo opportunities, autograph sessions, exclusive merchandise, and more. It’s the perfect chance to connect with your fellow fans and immerse yourself in the world of Supernatural and more. Don't miss out on a wild adventure! Click here and mark your calendars for your favorite destination. Your "The Boys are back!" friends at Creation Entertainment

So now Jared is included in the "amazing SPN guests"??? F*ck off. I know he isn't doing them all but this is just… a low blow tbh. This feels like CE's 'f*ck you' to Jared for branching out and essentially screwing them over.

I'm sure AA's and Jared antis will be celebrating int he streets, but Jared isn't doing less cons, he's just doing less CE cons. Also he's actually working.

Oh this is so funny! Always be careful of what you wish for because Jensen finally got his Dean show and the AAs finally got their Jensen-centric show but we all know AAs are actually sweating bullets that Jared won't be around to save Jensen from himself, and hellers will wonder which one of them is going to ruin Misha's reputation......

But seriously, clearly Creation Entertainment saw the math on the wall and the sum of which is a Jared-shaped-hole where money used to be. Jared actually has a career outside of Supernatural , so he Fox-Muldered himself. For reference...

But for Jensen and most alumni, Supernatural will be their best-known gigs. I said here and here 5 years ago that "Misha and the rest of the one hit wonders may have 5 years of con circuit to rake in the money, after that it’s Meet & Greets at strip malls". And that was assuming Jared would still be co-heading with Jensen.

So by now attendances are peeling off and a few actors apparently told their fans that CE reduced their salary to the point that either working at CE is no longer viable or CE essentially fired them. CE is desperate to attract new con-goers by throwing out The Boys mentions and adding Smallville actors and rebranding as "J1 and friends convention"! I wonder if CE is still demanding the same outrageous price for the privilege of a J2 event without one of the Js.

#supernatural convention

30 notes · View notes

wheels-of-despair · 6 months

Text

Enough | A Make Up Story | Tom Grant x You | Series Masterlist

Epilogue: Are You Fucking Kidding Me? Words: 2k

WINTER

Just as you feared, your life had been waiting for you back home.

It had taken five awful hours of driving to get there. You'd collapsed on your bed as soon as you walked in, still in your clothes that smelled slightly of him, and stayed there until morning.

The temp you'd trained had proven to be useless, and your work had piled up during your week away. It took you a month to get caught up again. You'd never exactly been fond of your job, but after your week with Tom, it had reached a new level of joylessness.

You sent out several resumes, but never heard back from anyone. So you kept plodding along, performing tasks you disliked and taking orders from people you hated. What else could you do?

You went on a few dates, each one worse than the last. You accepted invitations to events with people you barely tolerated, hoping it might spark something inside of you. Maybe you'd find something you enjoyed. Maybe you'd find someone you liked. Maybe you'd stop going home and thinking about things that weren't meant to be.

One night, several drinks deep on a dance floor so crowded it felt like you were fighting the bodies around you for air, you realized… here, in this crowded room, surrounded by people, was the loneliest you'd ever been in your entire life. You froze. The excessively loud music became a dull roar, bodies knocked into you, and all you could do was stand there feeling like a shell of a person.

You're not neon lights and wild adventures and meaningless hookups with people who won't bother to learn your name. You're talking 'til sunrise and listening to the rain and goofing on crappy movies.

You don't belong here.

You battled your way to the exit and walked home, head ducked so no one could see the tears streaming down your face.

You spent your nights watching stupid movies alone in bed after that. Why force yourself to do things that only made you feel worse?

Your mind always drifted to a curly-haired beauty in Cornwall. What would Tom think of this movie? Or the state you're in? What was he doing? Had he found someone who deserves him? Was he still angry with you for leaving? Did he understand that it was for his own good?

You thought of Jade, too. Did Ruth take care of her? Were they still together? Would she show up on your doorstep in a few months like nothing ever happened? Would you drop everything for her if she did?

Thinking of them was painful, but it was better than feeling nothing.

One cold and drizzly day that winter, after a long and dull day at the office, you were looking down and fumbling for your keys in front of your building when you ran into something solid.

You jumped back, realizing it was a person.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't…" You looked up and froze.

"At least it wasn't a car this time, I suppose."

Tom.

"Is this an 'I missed you' stare, or an 'oh God I thought I got rid of him' stare?"

"First one," you croaked, not quite believing your eyes.

Tom opened his arms, and you stepped into them instinctively. You didn't think you'd ever get to feel this embrace again.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying not to melt into his chest.

"Kind of a long story."

"Will you come inside and tell me?"

"Mhm," he hums, not moving.

"C'mon," you whisper, wondering if this was a dream. He felt real enough. You reluctantly pull away and lead him inside by the hand, fighting the urge to glance back every few steps to make sure he's still there. But he's right there with you when you unlock your door.

You shed your jackets and retreat to your bedroom, not knowing when your flatmate would come home and ruin everything. You sat on the bed while Tom wandered around, looking at the pictures cluttering your walls. You wonder if he'd notice the Cornish sunset that looked suspiciously like the one you'd seen on your last night together. You'd found it on Google and printed it at work in a particularly intense moment of weakness.

"How've you been?" you ask.

"Miserable, and you?"

You laugh. "Same, actually."

Tom focuses on your bookshelf. "Seeing anyone?"

"Ha," you chuckle dryly. "No. You?"

"No. Found someone great a while back, but she ran away from me."

You feel your heart sink as he sits next to you on the bed.

"Jade came to see me."

"Yeah?" This should be interesting.

"Yeah. She's sold her gran's van. She and Ruth are going to go see the world."

"Really? Where are they going?"

Tom shrugs. "Said they were going to pack their bags, go to the airport, and get on the first cheap flight to somewhere hot."

"Sounds like Jade."

"Sounds like a fucking nightmare."

"I know!" You laugh incredulously. "Where are they going to stay? What if no one speaks English? What if they get lost? What if they run out of money?"

"My thoughts exactly," Tom grins. "Said they'd figure it out as they go."

You thought about it for a moment. "Can't decide if that's brilliant, or insane."

"Insane, definitely." His smile fades. "We talked about you, too."

You drop your gaze and begin tracing the pattern on your blanket. You don't know what Jade told him, but it stings like a betrayal.

"What are you doing here, Tom?" You pick at a loose thread, unable to meet his eye.

"I'm here for work, actually," he says, getting up to inspect the knick-knacks on your desk. You're suddenly self-conscious about the seashells from the day you watched him scramble his brains in the sea. You'd forgotten all about them until you finally made yourself unpack, finding them scattered in the bottom of your bag. You spent nearly an hour sobbing over them that day. They were the only pieces of Tom you had.

"Oh yeah?" Of course he's not here for you. "Shirley expanding her empire?"

"I wouldn't know. She fired me."

"What?!" Your jaw drops in surprise.

"Yeah, about a week after you left. Not exactly a great time for ol' Tom Grant." He picks up a shell and runs his thumb across the smooth surface. You wonder if he knows where it's from.

"Tom, I'm so sorry. I know you loved it there."

"A blessing in disguise, really. You did me a favor."

"I did?"

"Yup." He puts down the shell and picks up another. "You left, I moped… then I beat the shit out of Kai. Fucker's really gotta stop running his mouth. Anyway, that was my third strike, so she sent me packing. But they broke ground on a new caravan park a few minutes up the coast last autumn, so I dropped by to see if they needed any help. Talk about perfect timing. Their handy-man had just gotten a better offer and bailed. Owner hired me on the spot. I'm head of maintenance."

"Tom, that's amazing!" He puffs out his chest and grins.

"It comes with a lot of perks, too." He puts the shell back and leans against your desk, crossing his arms and waiting for you to ask.

"What kind of perks?"

"I've got my own truck. Get paid more than double what Shirley was giving me. Got my own caravan. Brand new, too, but it has a few flaws." He pauses.

"Such as?" you prompt.

"It's twice the size of my old one. Got a bloody bathtub in it. And the bed? Way too big for one person."

Is this going where you think it is?

"Anyway, I'm here on a recruiting mission. We got the big stuff set up, but we're opening in the spring. Gonna need a full staff. Lots of openings to fill, in everything from housekeeping to the office. So if you know anyone dependable who's willing to relocate for a job… and maybe a handsome lad who makes great pancakes…"

You shake your head, trying to make your brain process everything he's just said to you. He grins in a way that does not help you get your thoughts in order.

"Jade said to always tell you what I want and how I feel, so here it is," he says, dropping back onto the bed next to you. "I want to give this a shot. I want you to come back to Cornwall with me, and I want you to stay. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing I see before I go to sleep. I want you. Because I love you."

You stare at him in disbelief, head spinning, tears threatening to spill.

Tom suddenly looks nervous. "I mean, if that's what you want too…?"

Of course it's what you want. You've never wanted anything more in your entire life. Not even her.

"Are you sure?" You have to ask.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You tears spill as you rush at each other, desperately needing to make up for several months of lost kisses.

"I'm guessing that was a yes?" he asks when you break for air. His curls are out of control, thanks to your roaming hands, and most of your clothes have somehow disappeared. A devilish smirk decorates his face. He's the most beautiful person you've ever known.

You nod, unable to find your words.

"You don't have to work there, by the way. But I think you'd like it. Owner's rich and clueless, but he's a good guy. You and me could fucking run this place. Make it better than Shirley's ever was. Teamwork, love."

You take a moment to imagine what your life might be like, living with Tom and working in a place you actually liked. A place that Tom helped build, even. You imagine welcoming guests and watching sunsets and cooking together and playing in the sea and putting up a Christmas tree and trying out that bathtub… and maybe squeezing into a rental shower every once in a while for old time's sake.

"This is what you want, right?" he asks nervously.

Tom has mistaken your fantasies for hesitation. You smile and cup his face. You've had so much time to think about what you want… and this is better than anything you could have possibly imagined. But at the center of every fantasy lies one little thing.

"You said something to me one night…" you begin quietly, as if it might shatter the illusion. "I think it was the night we had dinner at April's. But you said 'if you love a person, they should be enough.'"

Tom nods his head in your hands.

"That's what I want, Tom. I want to be enough." You hold your breath.

"You are," he whispers, eyes wide and genuine. And you believe him. You really do.

"So are you," you whisper back. "You're everything to me."

"C'mere," he smiles, reaching out and pulling you to him before you can start crying again. You lift your head and meet his lips in a sweet kiss that soon turns needy and desperate. You do have a lot of lost time to make up for, after all.

An hour later, you lie on your backs in your twisted sheets, staring up at your ceiling and trying to catch your breath.

"Was that my sign-on bonus?" you joke.

"Don't tell anyone else, or they'll all expect it."

You laugh together and reach for his hand.

"We really doing this? You and me?" you ask.

"Absolutely," he says.

"Guess I get to live out my job-quitting fantasy tomorrow," you grin. "How long do you think it'll take us to pack?"

"As a team? With our motivation? Sunrise."

You laugh, feeling happy and whole again for the first time in months. You get to quit your job tomorrow and come home with boxes so you can start packing. You get to leave this place and all the people in it behind, and start a new life with someone you love. Someone who loves you back. Someone who wants to keep you.

"I love you."

His words make your heart soar, and you have no doubt that he means them. He means them as much as you do.

"I love you too, Tom."

#writings of despair #tom grant is enough #tom grant #tom grant x you #tom grant x reader #am i forgiven now??

43 notes · View notes