#then Louis takes him back; and even tells her to get used to it and to try to be more open with her own abuser | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mediumgayitalian · 27 days

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“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

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cinemastyles-backup · 7 months

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BMWB

Summary: an anon request - “can you do a one shot where y/n is in the band and for some reason Harry and her don't get along and they end up fucking?? Like not enemies to lovers but more or like enemies to fw because they're so good at it ??? Pleaseeeee”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, lots of arguing, oral (both), fingering, biting, hair pulling, filth

My original CinemaStyles-blog has been terminated, so I created a new one.

MAJOR ASSHOLE FRAT BOY HARRY

"One, two, three, four." Harry screams into the mic and bobs his head to the music. I strum my base, close my eyes and tilting my head as I feel the music.

My eyes suddenly snap open when Harry starts to yell, "Stop. Stop. Fuckin' stop." I lay my fingers over the edge of my bass and sigh, "What now, Styles?"

I know he's talking about me, he's always talking about me.

He scoffs and shakes his head, "Are you even here with us right now? Because the he only thing you should be focusing on is getting the beat of the fucking song right. Jesus christ."

I roll and shut my eyes and take a deep breathe, "Harry. Chill out man. She was doing fine." Niall says setting down his guitar, "Maybe you need to ta-"

Harry cuts him off, "Maybe you just need to shut the fuck up."

"If you don't want me to pla-"

Zayn cuts me off, "No, y/n. You're the best bass player we've had, Harry's just having a bad day."

Harry shifts his weight to his left leg and puts his hands on his hips, "You know wh- fine. Take a fucking break, all of you."

He walks off the stage and throws his water bottle.

"What the fuck is his issue lately?" Louis says walking up, "Don't take it personal, y/n. Harry can be.." he trails off his words.

I sigh, "Egomaniacal? Asshole-ish? Cocky? I can stand here all day."

They laugh and I look over my shoulder, "I'll try and talk to him. If the screaming at each other stops call the coroner because I've strangled him with his mic cord."

I set my bass down gently and walk in the direction Harry went.

I look left and right and walk down the hall. I stop as I see Harry leaning against the wall. He turns his head towards me and looks away with an eye roll, "What do you want?"

"I want to know why you're all of a sudden coming at me?" I cross my arms, "We were fine and now yo-"

"Just go practice because you obviously need it." He pushes off the wall and walks towards me. I grab his arm as he goes past me, "No. I don't obviously need that, Harry. What I need, is for you to tell me what the fuck your issue is."

He laughs and tilts his head back, "Like I'd ever talk to you about what's bothering me. Go the fuck back to the stage. We have a show to get perfect."

He pulls his arm away and scoffs, "Don't ever fucking touch me again."

"Don't ever fucking yell at me again." I shoot back.

He stop waking and turns around, "Oh? So now you're the boss? Telling me what I can and can't do?" He walks up to me, "Let me tell you one thing, sweetheart." He leans in, his face an inch away from mine, "I'm the boss. You do what I say when I say it, hmm?"

I roll my eyes at him, "Mm. We'll see."

I step around him and walk back to stage. Before I enter back, I look over at him and smile, "You coming? We have a show to make perfect." I smirk and push the door open.

"Is he dead?" Louis asks with a slight laugh.

I shake my head, "Not yet." I pick my bass up and gently strum the strings. Harry walks in and everyone goes quiet.

"Let's get this fucking right." He says just loud enough for us to hear. He walks up and takes the mic off the stand and looks around at us, making sure we're ready.

"One, two, three, four."

——

"You guys are on in five." Liam, the crew manager says. I nod and finish applying my lipstick, "Okay."

"Don't fuck this up." Harry says leaning against the door frame to my dressing room. I look at him in the mirror, "Is that you threatening me or demanding me?"

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "Sometimes I just wanna-" he clenches his jaw and tilts his head, "Nope. Not happening."

"What?" I turn around and lean against the table, "You wanna what, Styles?"

He stares at me, and in that moment, if looks could kill. I'd be dead.

He walks up to me and brings a hand up, his thumb gently pulls down my lower lip, "Sometimes I just wanna gag you with my cock so you shut the fuck up for once."

He drops his hand, "Like I said, don't fuck this up."

He leaves the room before I have anything to say, which I don't. Harry just left me absolutely speechless.

"Hey, y/n. Let's go. We're up next." Louis knocks on the door, "You okay?"

I blink and turn around quickly, wiping away the smudge of lipstick Harry's thumb left, "Yeah. Coming."

——

The whole show, I was on edge.

On edge because of what Harry said.

On edge because he looks so fucking hot in that tight Green Bay jersey.

On edge because he kept looking over at me any chance he got.

On edge because he was fucking with me.

We finish the song and the crowd goes wild. Screaming for Harry. Screaming for me. Screaming for all of us.

"Give it up for the amazing band behind me." Harry says while clapping, "Niall, Louis, Zayn.." there's a pause before he says my name and the boys glance towards me then look back at Harry, "And y/n who actually did very well tonight."

The crowd screams and I force a smile and wave.

I shook a glare back at Harry and he smirks behind his mic, "We're going to give you guys one last song and then we're off to Phoenix!"

Harry walks around stage as we start to play the final song of the night, "Let's go!"

——

We exit the stage and I immediately walk up to Harry and shove his shoulder, "What the fuck was that?"

He cocks his jaw and smirks, "I know you didn't just shove me."

I go to shove him again and Zayn grabs my arms, "Settle down." I pull my arms and he gets louder, "Settle down, easy y/n."

"Why would you fucking say that?" I yell, "I actually did well tonight? What the fuck Harry!?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. He motions for Zayn to let me go and he puts his arm around my shoulder, "Let's take a walk and talk about this."

I push his arm off of me, "What so you ca-"

"Now, now." He cuts me off, "Just come on." We walk down the hall to the door with his name on it, "In."

I roll my eyes and push the door open. I walk in and turn around, ready to start losing my absolute shit on him but he holds his hand up, "I get under your skin."

"Yeah the fuck you do." I cross my arms, "And you do it on purpose."

He walks over and pours himself a drink, "Because you make it so easy."

"By what? Giving you a reaction?" I huff, "Do you want me to ignore you? Quit the band?"

"Why would you quit the band?" He asks bringing the glass to his lips. He lowers it and shakes his head, "You're the best bass player I've had, y/n. I don't want you to quit."

His words confuse me and I know my face shows it.

"He sits down and rests one arm straight out on the back of the couch and brings a leg up over his other, "Sit."

I find myself always listening to his stupid little commands so I shake my head, "No. I'll stand." He chuckles, "Hmm. Okay. Suit yourself, sweetheart."

I roll my eyes, "What do you want, Harry." I state, "Because if you're just going to sit there and-"

"You. I want you."

"Excuse me?" I laugh, "Did you just say you- you want me?"

He nods, "Yeah. I believe that's what I said."

"You're not serious."

"But I am." He finishes his drink and stands up, "You see, y/n. I really don't like you, for reasons I'm not open to telling you just yet." He sets his glass down and walks over to me.

I stay silent and watch him as he gets closer, "We have our issues that, well, the whole band can see, right?"

I shrug, "I-"

"Shut up." He says louder. His voice goes back to normal and he walks around me, his chest presses against my back and he moves my hair off my neck.

My breathing gets faster and I bite my lip.

"There so much stress while touring, right?" His fingers drag up my shoulder and neck.

I nod.

"I want you to be my little stress reliever." He leans down and licks up my neck, "No strings attached."

I shut my eyes tight. Fighting off every urge to turn around and give into him.

He's an asshole.

He makes your days a living hell.

He gets under your skin in the most annoying ways possible.

All the thoughts run spin around in my head and I let out the breathe I've been holding.

"What do you say? Huh. We help each other out and when you piss me off.. I get to fuck my anger out and fuck that annoying little attitude out of you."

I want to say no so bad. I want to turn around and slap some sense into him, but the idea of being Harry's fuck buddy is just so overpowering.

"You can speak now, sweetheart."

"Y-yes."

"Good answer. Now get on your knees." He places his hands on my shoulder and pushes me down. I land on my knees and bite my lip, looking up at him as he walks around to stand in front of me.

He starts to undo the belt on his jeans and he gives me a smirk.

"What?" I ask as I tuck hair behind my ear.

"Do I make your nervous?" He chuckles, "No need to be nervous."

I roll my eyes, "Please. If anyone should be nervous here, it's you."

"How's that?" He asks shoving his jeans down, "I'm not nervous one bit. Excited actually."

I raise my eye brows and laugh slightly, "Why because you're about to shut me up?"

"Exactly." He pushes his boxers down and pumps his cock in his hand a few times before pushing the head of it against my lips, "Open for me."

I part my lips and he pushes his cock in, letting out a groan.

I wrap my lips around his cock and swirl my tongue. I work my way down, getting him wet enough, teasing him slightly before I give him exactly what he wants.

I sink his cock into my throat and he moans.

I shut my eyes and control my breathing through my nose before I bob my head, gagging around his cock.

"Ah." He moans out, "It's nice to hear the sound of you choking on my cock rather than you speaking."

I ignore his words and continue to fuck my throat with him, working him up until he places a hand on my head, "A-alright. We can come back to this. I wanna see that ass of yours bent over."

I pull off and wipe my chin off with my wrist. He pulls me over towards the couch and slips his shirt off. My eyes flicked up and down his toned, tattooed torso and he grips the hem of my shirt pulling it up over my head.

"You know, y/n." His eyes move up and down my bra covered chest, "You are pretty fuckin' hot."

I smirk and unbutton my jeans, "So are you."

He smirks and watches as I take my jeans off, kicking my shoes out of the way. We both stand there naked and his hands reach out to explore my body.

I close my eyes as he leans in, sucking random spots on my neck. I moan out quietly and bring my hands up to his arms.

Wow, he isn't yelling at me to not touch him.

His hand moves down and pushes between my legs. His finger slides between my folds, "You're fuckin' soaked, sweetheart."

I part my thighs and dig my nails into his skin as he circles my clit, gradually applying a harder pressure.

I whimper and tilt my head back. Harry kisses and sucks spots under my chin and jaw line.

"Harry." I moan out quietly, "Fuck me."

He chuckles against my skin, "Are you demanding?"

I bite my lip, debating on what I should say before my mouth speaks on its own, "What if I am?"

He sighs and pulls his hand away from between my legs, "Then you get more time without my cock in that desperate cock hungry pussy of yours."

He walks over and gets another drink, "I'm going to enjoy this drink. Sit down and, oh I don't know." He shrugs, "Convince me that you're deserving of my cock going into your pussy."

I chew the inside of my lip and nod, "Okay."

I sit down on the couch and smirk as I bring my legs up and spread them. He pauses and stares at my open legs. I bring my hand down and rub circles onto my clit, moaning.

I need Harry to touch me.

"Afraid you won't get me to cum?" I tease, "Am I going to have to fake it with you then do it myself later?"

He roughly sets his glass down on the table and stands up, "There you go again.. running your mouth."

I bite my lip and sink my fingers into my pussy, letting out a loud gasp, "What? Im just asking questions."

He scoffs, "You have no idea."

"Mm. I think I do." I tilt my head back and moan. A smile grows on my lips as I feel the couch sink down.

"You'll be begging me to fuck you after this." He moves my hand and replaces it with his own, his rings roughly hitting my skin as his fingers pump in and out.

I arch my back off the couch and moan, "Fuck."

He shifts back and bends down, attaching his lips to my clit. I let out a gasp and put a hand on his head, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

He moans against me and that causes me to moan. I clench my walls around his fingers as I feel myself approaching my orgasm.

My eyes roll back and I smile as he did exactly what I wanted him to do.

He pulls his fingers out and licks up my pussy. He pulls away and moves up, rubbing the head of his cock against my clit, "That didn't seem fake to me."

I smirk and my mouth opens as he shoves his cock into me without warning, "Fuck." He smirks and tilts his head as he pulls out and thrusts back in.

He grips my hips tight and fucks me. His lips part as his eyes shit and a moan escapes his lips, "Shit, y/n."

I grab his wrists and arch my back, "Harry." I whimper, "Fuck."

He leans down, pressing his lips to mine as he continues thrusting. I drag my nails up his back with one hand as I pull myself to desperately cling to him with the other.

He gently bites my bottom lip and moans.

I tilt my head back and he kisses up and down it.

For a moment I would have thought I wasn't having sex with the asshole I shoved in the hallway, but with Harry who actual gives a shit.

He moans against my neck and pushes his cock deep into me, "This pussy is mine." He whispers in a deep, raspy voice.

"Yours." I breathe out, "Yours."

He goes back to thrusting and attacking my neck. I wrap an arm around his neck and sink my nails into his shoulder as I cum around his cock.

"Fuck." He groans lowly, "You feel so fucking good."

I whimper in his ear, "You fuck so good."

He smirks and kisses my cheek and over to my lips. Our lips move in perfect sink and he pulls out and I can feel his cum shoot out into my stomach.

He continues to kiss me, his hand pulls my hips closer to his. He slowly leans back and looks at me, "Who's pussy is this?"

I roll my eyes and smirk, "Yours."

"Damn right it is." He leans up and looks around, "Um.." he gets up and grabs a towel, "Here." He tosses the towel down next to me as he cleans himself off.

"Thanks." I wipe myself off and sit up, I lean over and grab my clothes, slipping my panties and jeans back on, "So what does this mean?" I smirk and laugh.

He shakes his head and smirks, "Nothing more than band mates with benefits."

——

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charliedawn · 2 months

Note

Hey this is some stupid fear I have but how would some slasher ( whoever you want. ) React to a nurse who is young like in 20s and isn't scared at dying at a young age or isn't scared of dying like any time, but it's scared to grow up? It's really a stupid fear I have personal.

P.S you don't need to do it tho.

( sorry for the bad Grammer, English is my second language. )

Pennywise:

"Yeah. Growing up is scary, kid. I won’t lie to you. But, guess what ? It is part of the process." Pennywise hesitated before patting your head. "Cheer up. Being mortal isn’t all that bad. Living forever is a bore honestly."

Pennywise’s throat tightened as he realised that you would grow up. He knew it was a process and that in the blink of an eye…You would be gone. He waited a few seconds before surprising you by pulling you into a hug. Your eyes widened as you realised that he was shaking.

"Pennywise…" You uttered in a whisper before sighing and hugging him back.

He didn’t say anything. Truth was ? He was scared too. But, he didn’t want to tell you with words. So, he hugged you and hoped you’d understand that he was scared too…but that he was happy that whatever little life you had left, he’d be right next to you until the end.

Penny:

Penny lost so many people in his life that he asked Pennywise to erase his memories of the people he used to love. When you shared your fears with him however, he tilted his head and seemed to ponder on it for a moment before shrugging.

"I could make you live forever. Would you be happier if I did ? Make you immortal ?"

You started thinking about it.

Living forever ? You smiled sadly and shook your head negatively.

"Thank you, Penny. But…I don’t think I would like to live forever. Life is meant to be precious…It is not meant to go on forever."

Penny tilted his head and looked puzzled, but he didn’t say anything. It was odd. He had never seen his life as precious when he was alive. But yours ? His jaw twitched slightly. Yours. He valued.

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is an artist. He sees beauty in everything.

When he heard that you were scared of growing up, he just started taking as many pictures as he could of you and showed them to you. He then told you in sign language that you’d live forever—in his camera.

And that if you were scared ? Well, you just had to look at the photos and remember that that was how he would remember you forever. He then started stroking your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to calm you down.

Vincent knew he would eventually have to say goodbye.

But, to him ?

You would always remain a masterpiece.

Five Hargreeves:

"Growing up is scary. But, being stuck as a child is even worse. Children never get heard. I would know. I was a child. Twice."

He said and looked down. So many years spent in solitude. So many years wasted. He lived for decades and yet, Five never thought that he was truly alive. He was feeling better with his siblings, but he never actually had any moment in his life that he could say that he felt like he was enough or enough. Sometimes, he even wondered if the world would have been better without him.

It was only when he was admitted in St Louis that he realised he wanted to be something more and make his life a good one. It wasn’t until he met…you.

He looked at you and smiled.

"You gave me a life. And even when you get older and start forgetting about how you changed everything for me, I’ll be there to remind you. Every single day."

Jason Voorhees:

Jason never had a real childhood. He was bullied as a kid and his overprotective mother never allowed him to get out of her sight. When she died, he had no one to look after him and felt lost and lonely. He tried to reach out to people, but he could never create attachment with anyone.

So, he just kept killing and making sure people stayed away, because it was better than to get hurt.

And then, he met you.

He started caring for you more than he’d care to admit and soon enough, he wasn’t feeling as lonely anymore.

Jason *hugs you tightly*

Jason started looking up to you and even though he was also afraid of what will happen when you get too old to keep him company, he still wanted to keep you close to him—no matter how sad he would be once he would have to say goodbye.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms looked at you and shook his head—as if he didn’t believe you.

"Y/N…Never going to grow old. Will stay young forever. Young forever with Brahms."

He hugged you and closed his eyes.

Deep down, he knew that you’d eventually grow old and disappear. But, in his mind ? You’d always be perfect. No matter how old you get or how afraid you get.

Brahms : "Don’t worry, Y/N. Brahms is here. Brahms will stay with you…"

He held back tears and just hugged you tighter.

Norman Bates:

Norman: "…Darling. Listen to me. I am the oldest slasher to have ever existed. I was born in 1932. I am old. Very old. But…I would give up a whole eternity just to be with you. So, it is not about having a long life, but a good one. A worthy life. And just meeting you made mine worth it. And if I was to die tomorrow ? I can say…I lived a good life." He smiled and stroked your cheek affectionately with his forefinger. "You should do the same. Stop worrying about when your time is gonna run out or because of the few wrinkles on your face. Just remember to have fun and enjoy your life. Take the advice of a man who’s seen it all."

He then put down a tray on the table.

"Now, tea ?"

Jack Torrance:

"Old ? Ah. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You’ll be one hell of a cute old lady, if you get there." Jack never got the chance to grow old. He secretly misses being alive. He would have loved to grow old with his family and be a father to Danny. But, he never got there. He died—frozen and alone. He then came back as some sort of ghost who feeds on fear. So, no. Growing old isn’t something he would find scary, or losing you. Because he knows that when you do grow old and eventually leave this world, you will go to a nice place—unlike him. And if you don’t ? Well, you’d be trapped with him. Either way, he knows you’ll be alright. So, he isn’t worried.

"You’ll be fine. I know it. Now, stop worrying and come have a drink with me."

Hannibal Jr.:

"You will always be a Hannibal in my eyes. No matter how old or wrinkled you get…You will always be my beloved daughter." Hannibal Jr. told you when you shared your fears with him. He stroked your cheeks and smiled. "Always."

You smiled at him and hugged him tightly. He returned your hug and whispered in your ear.

"You will always be part of this family." He then kissed your forehead. "No matter what."

Ghostface (Eddie Munson):

"…Don’t worry. We will grow old together. It will be less lonely." Ghostface told you and smiled at you. Unlike the other slashers, Ghostface can grow old. He is not exactly a slasher. It is more of a multitude of people taking the role with time. Eddie won’t be Ghostface forever. Once his mission over, he will start growing old as well until he just gives his mask to someone new.

Ghostface *scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders* : "I bet we will be the coolest old people ever…" *smiles*

#pennywise x reader #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #vincent sinclair x reader #five hargreeves x reader #jason voorhes x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #norman bates x reader #jack torrance x reader #hannibal jr #hannibal x reader #ghostface eddie munson

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writingstoraes · 9 months

Text

down the aisle 💍

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine (fluff, angst)

theme/s: none very gruesome, typical childhood best friends pining, unspoken feelings and all that

word count: 5.1k (got carried away lol)

notes: not proofread and not revised so pls expect grammatical/spelling errors! will be working on the pending reqs now hehe lmk what u guys think <3

about: charles was six when he promised to marry you when he got older and the time was right. as crazy children can go, you always thought he was delirious, but he reminds you of it almost every year.

“Y’know what, when we get older, I am going to marry you for real!” Charles, in broken French, says a little enthusiastically as he walks down the makeshift aisle you two had made for the two-hour playtime your parents allowed.

With a pillowcase hanging on your head as an improvised veil, you held in your hands hand-picked flowers from the Leclerc’s garden as your bouquet. Two of your other friends cheer, the joy of make-believe weddings children orchestrate on their own taking over.

“You’re crazy, Charlie! We can’t marry each other, we’re only six years old,” you giggle.

“I know,” he says. “I’ll do it when we get old! When we’re 18 or something.”

You thought of Charles as demented every time he promised to marry you in the unforeseeable future. He first said it when the two of you were six years old, playing an infamous game of roleplay wedding. For a long time, in your little group of friends, the two of you always assumed the role of the groom and bride. Of course, you were just as young as he was, but you dismiss his thoughts by saying you were too young to get married - and he’d always respond with the promise of doing it when you both got older.

Even when his parents and his older brother Lorenzo watch the two of you, he assumed Charles was just hopped up on the adrenaline of playing with his best friend, his favorite person in the whole world, you. He thought that when the two of you actually get older, Charles would eventually forget the silly vow he had made when he was awfully young.

But Charles never abandoned the thought. As he got older, he finds himself repeating the same promise he had told you in his family’s backyard, not for the sake of mere recollection, but because he deems you as his perfect pair, his soulmate.

It was at age 10 when he had made the same promise to marry you. You sat a bench in front of your school’s gates, waiting for the school bus, clutching your backpack as tears welled in your eyes. You and Charles had made a pact to always go home together and sit at the bus side by side, so he’s not surprised to find you at your usual spot, but he was surprised to see you crying.

Charles rushes to you, taking off his backpack to set it on the bench.

“Hey, why are you crying?” Worriedly, he says, a little panicked to see his best friend with tears running down her face.

“Louis t-th-threw away my let-t-ter,” you say in between sobs.

Louis was a grade above you, who was the dreamiest boy in school with his soft brown hair and brown eyes. Every girl at school had a crush on him, gigantic ones at that, so his locker is expected to be filled with love letters even on normal days. Frankly, Charles never got the hype over him but he’d never tell you that, not when you were one of the lovestruck girls at school.

“What happened?”

“I was too shy to tell him I like him,” you tell Charles, who proceeds to rub your back calmly to ease you down. “So I wrote a letter to tell him that and he crumpled it up into a ball and threw it in the garbage.”

“He did it in front of everyone!” you add, breaking into cries once again. Charles’ brows furrow, wanting to punch the stupid boy who had made you cry, but his main goal was to make you stop crying first.

“Il est idiot ou abruti!” He’s a jerk.

“Y/N, please stop crying. He’s no good for you, you’re too great for him.” he says, using both his hands to grip your shoulders as he adjusts you so you can face him.

“I’m so embarrassed. What if this goes on for years? What if nobody likes me-” you ramble on and Charles could only look at you sympathetically.

“Hey, I like you! You’re the best girl I know.” Charles replies, smiling slightly.

“And I will always like you, you know? It doesn’t matter if it’s years from now, I promise to marry you when we’re older because I will always like you!”

“You’re just saying that because I’m sad,” you shake your head, lightly laughing at his attempt to cheer you up.

“I’m not lying! I really will marry you. That’s how much I like you.”

It’s amusing to hear. What do 10-year-olds know about marriage, anyway?

At first, Charles thought he was repeating his vow to marry you years from now just to fulfill what he told the best person in his life when he was young. He remembers the time he had made the promise again back when he was 10 and he recalls telling you you were the best girl he knew. He convinces himself that he said that partially to cheer you up and because he’d do anything to make you smile, you were his best friend after all.

But it’s three years from now and he had done it again. Maybe it’s a reflex, something he thinks he’s supposed to say because he had said it two times already. Maybe when he was six it was out of joy and the child-like innocence he had. When he was 10 maybe it’s out of the fact that he wanted to dry your tears. Yet this time, he had no reason to justify it.

Deep down he knew it was because he grew to like you, more than a friend, more than he should. Internally he shakes his head, trying to dismiss the thought of breaking the unspoken rule of liking his best friend. He was 13, figuring things out, and the first thing he knew to be certain of was you were in fact, his dream girl.

Your family and the Leclercs were together again for dinner, a tradition done at least once a month. A big table was set up at your house since it was your family’s turn to host dinner. Plates were neatly set up, the smell of roast chicken and the aroma of an array of dishes coming out of the kitchen. It’s the same night Charles realized just how beautiful you’ve grown to be. Your hair was much longer and you were a little taller. You dressed differently, and the two years you had braces finally paid off. Charles feels butterflies in his stomach each time you smiled, but he chooses to ignore it.

“Remember when you said you’d marry me like, three years ago?” you spoke up, hoping to playfully embarrass Charles who was beside you in your bedroom, legs sprawled on your bed.

“You can say it, were you just saying that to cheer me up?”

“No, can you stop accusing me of that? I really meant it!” he says in defense, knowing he really did mean it, and he means it even more now.

“Hmm, I’m sure you won’t mean it anymore when you ask Elise to the dance and you guys have your first kiss,” you tease, enunciating the word “kiss” just to poke at Charles and the fact that the school dance was in 2 weeks.

“I’m still going to mean it, Y/N.” he shakes his head. “And weren’t we going to go together? I already bought your ticket.”

“Come on, Charlie! You don’t have to appease me anymore, we’re growing older, you know?”

“I know, and I keep my promises,” he turns to look at you, shifting into a seated position.

“Really?” you mock, raising one brow at him with a smirk on your face. “You’d really marry me like, 10 years from now?”

“I would,” Charles responds, unknowingly providing you with a small amount of comfort you couldn’t figure out just yet.

Things were pretty routine for you and Charles. Every time he promised to marry you, your response was always to never take him seriously. You always think he’s just trying to lift your spirits up or it’s because he’s fulfilling a promise he made when he was six years old. And if Charles was anything, he wasn’t someone who broke promises. He shows up and keeps his word, it’s just who he was. You think that vow would eventually be null and void when he finds a girl he genuinely likes, and the same would go for you.

Charles never lets your response get to his head. After he realizes he had grown feelings for you, feelings that persisted until now that he was sixteen, he lets your chuckle and “you’re crazy” responses slide away. He didn’t think he’d make the promise again anyway, he knows better than to say it again now that he actually was going to mean every word.

At sixteen, you and Charles attended your first party with friends without parental supervision. Even Lorenzo wasn’t there as a chaperone so it was an entirely new experience for the two of you. He had promised your parents prior that he was going to take care of you and makes sure you don’t go home wasted, and obviously, they trusted him with their entire chests.

Charles made sure not to drink too much that night, not even with the heavy and ceaseless invites from his friends. He wanted to be of composure in the event you get more inebriated than him, which will take place about an hour from now. You both went your separate ways, agreeing to meet when it was time to go home. You had friends outside of Charles and he had friends that weren’t you as well. Before letting you go he makes you promise to not drink too much and you only respond with a nod and a wide smile.

But he was summoned by your friend so he comes running to the living room and he finds you flushed and drunk out of your mind.

“Hi, Charlie!” you slur, waving your hands aimlessly as you see Charles’ figure tower over you.

“Oh my god, how many have you had?” Charles asks, desperately trying to lift you up and out of the couch you were nearly passed out on.

“Come on, Y/N, I told your parents I wouldn’t let you drink!”

“Sorry, Charlie.” you say, all senses nonfunctional, slinging both your arms over Charles' shoulder as he carries you.

He figures he can’t take you home in your state, so he takes you out to the patio and sat you on the lawn chair. The booming music was heard outside, red cups littered on the grass, teenagers shouting every now and then. He had asked someone to fetch a clean towel drenched in water so he can wipe your face, hoping that and some water could lessen your inebriation.

“Aww, you’re taking care of me,” you coo, still clearly drunk. You had totally underestimated the toll alcohol would take on you.

“When we get married, are you going to take care of me when I’m drunk?”

“What?” Charles mutters in disbelief, but he quickly remembers you were drunk out of your mind so he tries his best not to give it any thought.

“You promised you’d marry me. You’ll keep your promise, right?” you say, mispronouncing some of the words and holding back a hiccup.

Charles doesn’t say anything and continues wiping your face with the damp towel in his hand and proceeds to tie your hair into a neat ponytail. He ignores that most of the time drunk words are a product of sober thoughts. He grabs the glass of water beside you and asks you to drink it. You shake your head in disapproval.

“Not drinking until you say you’ll m-ma-marry m-me,”

He can only sigh, not believing he was making the promise yet again, this time out of actual sincerity, not just because you asked and he wanted you to shut up and drink the damn water he had in his hand.

“I will marry you, okay? When we get together and the time is right, you’ll walk down the aisle and you will see me.”

“Now, please drink some water, I’m begging.”

And oddly enough, Charles is convinced you would have no recollection of the words that came straight out his chest.

Charles was already nineteen and how he felt for you hadn’t changed, not one bit. He’s evaluated the emotions he’s been avoiding hundreds of times - he asks himself if it was the nostalgia of having known you for more than a decade or if it was really because he had grown old enough to realize you were all he could ever want. But he’s not the type to do something about it, he’s far more afraid of losing you than having to keep the biggest secret he had withheld from you.

You would be lying if you said the way you looked at Charles was still the same way you did when you were nine. You were scared to entertain the thought, it’s a dangerous territory should you try to open the door and see what was inside. For some time you disregard the pounding in your chest when Charles sends you a smile or the electricity that runs through your fingertips every time he held your hand.

Both of you decide to keep it at bay, stashing whatever you felt in a box and stowing it away in a compartment in the back of your heads. You were still as comfortable as ever, knowing each other best like you were each other’s home address. For whatever reason you and Charles deem it best and most reasonable to stay as friends and not say anything, you both loved each other too much to risk, jump, and then fall. Unbeknownst to the two of you, you were both ready to catch whoever falls first.

It’s not like neither of you tried to expand your horizons. There were attempts to date other people and establish the same or at least a comparable connection with another person as the one you had with each other. Numerous times you asked for Charles’ opinion on what to wear on a first date and several occasions were you with him as he bought flowers for whoever was waiting for him. The difference was that you were more desperate than Charles, trying your best and trying hard to get over the fact that you were possibly in love with your best friend. Maybe because you weren't at peace with it as much as him, so you figure that maybe when you actually meet someone you like, all of this would just fade into thin air.

But it does get tiring. Looking back now, you weren’t sure you got the irony in going on several dates just for you to come home at night to Charles, who’s almost always waiting for you at your front door to make sure you got home safe. Sure, his house was awfully near, but you don’t mind it anyway.

To say your date tonight was bad is an understatement. It was with a guy you met through a mutual friend, and at first, seemed charming and kind. After having rescheduled the date four times because of reasons he couldn’t say, you took comfort in the fact that he might be a great guy and you should give him a chance. He didn’t pick you up from the house, which Charles frowned upon, but he let it slide eventually after some persuasion and convincing. The whole night he only talked about himself and was even rude to the waiter who served you. To make the night even worse, him complimenting your physique in a way only perverts do was the cherry on top.

Charles’ lips twitch to form a small smile the moment he saw you walking towards your door. Previously on his phone, he shuts it down and sees your shoulders slumped as you give him an exasperated sigh when you finally get to him.

“Home so soon?” Charles asks, though it was more of a statement laced with an I-told-you-so tone.

“Why are you here so early?” you return the question.

“It’s only what-” you glance at your watch. “8:30 in the evening? You’re usually not here until 11.”

Charles shrugs. “I figured this date wouldn’t go well. I had this weird feeling to wait for you really early, call it best friend instinct or something.”

Best friend. In some weird way, the comforting thought that he goes out of his way to wait for you was joined with a little pang in your chest from the two words that defined the two of you your whole lives. Best friends, were all you were and you figure, all you ever will be.

“Sucks you had me give him the benefit of the doubt - the douchey shirt he was wearing really gave it away for me,” he laughs lightly.

The both of you sit down at the front of your door like you usually do before you went to bed. It’s routine, something you never get tired of, even when sometimes you and Charles were just enveloped in silence, comfortable silence that is.

“In my defense, he did seem nice. I wanted to give him a chance.”

“Yeah that’s the problem with you, no?” he says. “You give way too many chances. You give them away like it’s Halloween and they’re trick-or-treating. Even when signs point you to not entertaining them, you’re too kind to dismiss it.”

I’ve only ever wanted to give one person one chance. But I’m too scared to lose you. You wanted to reply, but there was no way in hell you would actually say that. So much for the self-imposed courage you said you had.

“That’s practically what dating is, Charlie,” you say instead, sighing after. “How am I going to meet the right person if I just stand and stall?”

“It’s because you keep looking. I think incessantly looking for the right person is overrated, sometimes it’s better to stop and let them come to you.”

“Oh because I should take dating advice from a guy who’s been in what, 6 dates his entire life?” you tease, smiling at Charles after he returns a knowing look.

For a while, his gaze fixates on you, a small smile painted on your face and the moonlight reflecting in your eyes, somehow making them sparkle.

Right then and there he finds the answer as to why he’s only ever been in six dates. And had no desire on going to more.

“Hey,” you speak up, cutting Charles’ trail of thought.

“At least when I don’t find the right person, I won’t be husbandless. I have you to marry, right?” you joke, hoping it jogs Charles’ memory of a dumb promise he made when he was a child.

“Yeah, you do.”

You entered the Leclerc household while it was in complete chaos. His brothers were occupied setting up a big table in the backyard and meticulously arranging the plates and centerpieces as to how Pascale, his mom, would like it. His aunts and mainly his mother were in the kitchen, surrounded by pots, pans, and cut-up ingredients for whatever they were cooking. Undoubtedly, Charles had a fairly big family if you include the extended ones. It was his 21st birthday after all, so it makes sense why he was a big deal for today.

“Y/N! You’re here early, dinner isn’t for another 3 hours.” Pascale smiles upon seeing you, walking over to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“I wanted to help you guys set up, looks like it’s a busy day today.”

You soon made rounds in their house, taking turns in helping in the kitchen, and backyard, and visiting Charles in his bedroom because he was apparently ordered to not move a finger until it was time to eat.

Soon after, the long table set up beautifully in the backyard of Charles’ house was filled. Close friends, family, and everyone he held dear were present to celebrate his special day. Various dishes were laid out on the table as well as a cake baked by his mom herself had candles sticking out of it, along with a cake topper that said ‘21’. You sat beside Charles like you normally do, which was never an issue to anyone. Thankfully enough, despite the long tradition of having meals together with your and Charles’ family, no one ever posed the question of when the two of you are getting together or telling you two how much you looked good together.

Which benefitted the two of you. Now, you weren’t really sure if you’d call each other best friends, not when you two had lingering feelings you keep hidden from one another. It’s better that no one imposes anything so you and Charles can avoid any awkward conversation that may arise after.

The dinner was definitely delightful. It was nice that Charles was able to fly back home after his races to celebrate with family and you could tell how happy he was as he sat at the head of the table, providing him a clear view of everyone present to celebrate him. The rest of the night was nothing but hearty conversations, light-hearted jokes, and sangrias that were made by a proud Lorenzo.

“Speaking of Lorenzo, I bumped into your girlfriend at the market the other day,” Pascale speaks up, everyone instantly shifting their attention to her.

“You should have brought her here, Enzo. She seems really nice.”

“Noted for next time, Mama,” Lorenzo laughs, continuing to sip his sangria.

Granted, Lorenzo did explain they’ve been together only for several months and he didn’t want to put his girlfriend under extreme pressure by bringing her to a dinner surrounded by his entire family.

“How about you, Charles? Anyone your mom might be bumping into here in the city?” his aunt turns his head to Charles, who was pleasantly surprised by the question.

“Oh no, not at the moment,” he chuckles, in hopes that would be the end of it.

“I don’t think Charles is the ‘dating’ type as of now, tante,” Lorenzo adds, replying to his aunt.

“Hey, I’ve been on dates!” Charles puts his hands up in defense as everyone erupted in laughter. “Really, I’ve just been focusing on my racing career.”

“Plus, I don’t think I’ve met the right person yet.” he adds, adding a low laugh at the end.

You shift in your seat as something in your heart drops, like your oxygen levels were dropping and your heart rate was slowing down. Whatever confirmation you were waiting for from the universe that what you felt for Charles remained stagnant, you were sure this was it. Hearing about how he’s in pursuit of the destined person for him sent shivers down your spine, yet you’re certain you had no spine at all, considering you chose to hide your true feelings for him for God knows how long now.

“Mama won’t have to worry about daughters-in-law anyway, Y/N’s practically one,” Arthur quips, making the whole table laugh once again, except you and Charles, who knew the gravity of the word wedding or marriage held for the two of you.

But the two of you manage to let out light, slightly forced laughs anyway, for each other’s benefit mostly.

“Ah yes, Charles did promise to marry me when the time is right.” you say, in a somehow witty and humorous tone, raising a brow as you look at Charles.

“I intend to keep that promise, Y/N, don’t dare me.” Charles taunts jokingly.

And for the irony and heartbreak of it all, that would wind up being the last time Charles ever mentions the only promise he’s kept this long.

If anyone ever writes a biography about the untold love story you and Charles had, the author would probably call you cowards. For several years, decades even, the both of you never tried to see what it would be like on the other side of the door. Swearing you loved each other more than life itself yet never brave enough to jump and take the risk. You only ever convince yourselves that what you two have cost more and is more than finally having what you two really desired since you were both thirteen. So you both decide it’s better to let what you felt die down when you both get tired of waiting and hoping that someday, time would finally pencil you in on a schedule and things would finally work out.

The shadow of being best friends your whole life mostly served as a justification for the hidden affection you had for one another. Whenever you questioned the motive as to why it only takes one call for Charles to come running over to wherever you are, you tell yourself he’s your best friend, that’s why he cares so much. And every time Charles’ heartbeat skips when your skin touches whether in a hug or a kiss on the cheek, he ignores and tells himself the two of you have been close ever since. The two of you never thought to question it, always afraid of what comes after.

Soon enough the extended pining for each other would blur at least a little bit. You and Charles will eventually grow tired of being surrounded by the what-if’s you’ve been holding back for years. So neither of you can really blame each other when one takes a step forward - it’s general knowledge that any longer of whatever situation this was would just harm the two of you and could potentially ruin your friendship, the thing you’ve been protecting so ceaselessly over the years.

At 24, you and Charles are at the peak of your careers. He was now racing for his dream team, and you finally got the promotion you’d been busting your behind for for several years. But despite the busy schedules that you have mounted on your calendars, you manage to still have time for each other no matter how tough it got.

19 years later, nothing had changed - exactly the way you and Charles wanted it to be. A small price to pay for broken hearts because of words left unspoken.

But the question remains, would your hearts stay broken for so long? Maybe not, maybe the long game is what you’re supposed to play.

Charles always wanted his wedding to be private and intimate. He wasn’t one for big weddings where he invites people he’s only seen several times in his life, and probably won’t see for a long time after the wedding. He preferred it to just be close friends and family, in a private chapel, and he’s damn lucky his bride shared the same philosophy.

The villa Charles had chosen was exclusive and very private, even the planners of the wedding itself can be counted by hand. The villa was rented for the entire weekend and he pats himself on the shoulder for doing a good job of picking out the place.

The sun was starting to set and you could only stare at the golden hues that painted the sky. The breeze was warm but not too hot it makes you sweat. Tables and chairs were set up, beautiful centerpieces on top of it. Everyone was already well-dressed following the theme, all prepared for the ceremony. Even the piano player was seated down, in a tuxedo, all ready to play probably the most haunting music you will ever hear. You smile lightly as you play with the hem of your dress, closing your eyes and hoping your heart won’t pop out of your chest.

“Your vows, please,” the officiant says, as Charles brings out a paper from his coat pocket, tears already forming in his eyes.

You could only look at him longingly, chest pounding, waiting for the words written on the piece of paper he held tightly.

“Mon amour, 7 years ago, my family thought I was never the dating type. Sure it was a joke, partly, but I wondered what it would be like to actually be with the right person, with my soulmate. I was too caught up in my career and in the whirlwind of chasing my dreams. But there you stood, in the middle of the chaos and you have managed to keep me grounded. You have served as my anchor all these years and I honestly don’t know what my life could have been if you weren’t in it.” He continues, tears falling down as he proceeds to use his index finger to wipe his eyes.

“With you, I finally know how it feels to be with their soulmate. In you, I found the best friend, the greatest teammate, and the most amazing woman. You have no idea how thankful I am that I found you in this lifetime, and I will spend the rest of my life loving you and reminding you just how much.”

It wasn’t long before a tear rolled down your cheek and it feels like you couldn’t breathe. Of all the places you could be, this was the last place you ever thought you’d be in - the wedding of the only man you have ever loved.

You sat in the audience, beside Arthur and Joris, who you hope was too occupied to see the tears you were shedding. You sat in the audience in your cream-colored dress, watching Charles promise to love another woman for the rest of his life, like your own personal execution, like you had done an unforgivable crime and this was the world’s way of punishing you for it.

Maybe it was your fault you even went. But your best friend for more than two decades asking you to be there for his wedding seems like something you can’t decline. It was the happiest day of his life, one of the most important days he was ever going to have - it would seem off that you weren’t there, but it was barbaric of you to torture yourself.

You were happy for Charles, you know in your heart you were. But it was a shame you never knew how he felt and it was a missed opportunity you spent years hiding your heart from him. But here you sat, surrounded by the desolating what-ifs, just like when you were thirteen and you realized you liked Charles more than a friend.

For the first time in his life, Charles has finally broken a promise.

For the first time in your life, you realize just how crushing heartbreaks can be.

---------------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy, @fdl305, @iloveyou3000morgan, @cxcewg, @sassyheroneckgiant, @ang3licho3, @pitlanebabe, @riverdalexvixens, @msliz, @boherahpsody (if anyone else wants to be a part of my taglist or if i forgot anyone that asked to be tagged, pls lmk by replying or sending me a message hehe)

notes: been ia since the hungarian gp bc my tooth was hurting so bad i was practically glued to my bed, also my classes start in less than three weeks and i am now more anxious than ever ANYWAY thank u so much for reading <3

#writtenbyrae #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #f1 angst #f1 fluff #formula 1 oneshot

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crystlizabeth · 4 months

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Thinking about Simon and his Stallion!wife How while in Vegas for their anniversary Simon decided he wanted to spoil her. The couple had been walking around the stores he watch as her eyes laid on a Louis Vuitton. “You wanna go in?” He asked pulling her closer to him by the hip.

“I don’t think so.. we’ve already spent enough..” she spoke her voice was hesitant as her arm wrapping around Simon’s waist.

He simply rolled his eyes and walked towards the store. Simon loved spending his paycheck on her, yes she was grown and made her own mine but what’s the fun of having her spend her own money on herself when he was with her. Nothing was to much when it came to her. The Chanel, Dior, hell even H&M bags His hands he carried her bags proudly, his gorgeous wife holding on to his bicep her pretty freshly done nails holding his arm.

Now he kneeled in front of her fastening the heel around her ankle, his eyes scanned her calf tattoo the pretty details, soon his eyes met hers her dark eyes looking down on him a smile displayed on her glossy lips. He stood up watching as she tucked her boho twist, holding her hair as she scanned the heel.

“What do you think?” The sales lady asked.

“Not really a fan of I’m honest.. do you happen to have wedge sandal, the starboards? I’ve had my eye on them for a while” She asked her tone excited while looking down at the small lady.

Simon watched as the lady looked up at his wife Her light eyes a bit nervous, “well umm..” she muttered, yep definitely nervous.

“Oh Honey I don’t bite.” She teased her hands meeting her hips.

“Well ma’am I don’t think we have your size..”

“On thats to bad..”

“I’m sorry I bet you could order them online!” The sales lady said.

She looked over at Simon then back at the lady “it’s alright hun, no worries.” She spoke sitting back down.

He could tell she was sad more disappointed, he helped her take off the heels it’s was and unsuccessful shop. Yet Simon now knew what she wanted, and he be damned if he didn’t get them for her.

He spent that night scrolling through his hope even making a few calls and ended up finally finding a store that had them.

It was weird especially on holiday not to wake up with her husband not in bed with her was new but not out of the ordinary. She ended up getting a text saying ‘Be ready for brunch I’ll be back soon gorgeous.’ It wasn’t long before he got back and she saw the bag in his hand.

He loved the face she made her jaw slightly dropped “Si?” She spoke fastening her gold hoop, Simon’s eyes scanned her body the white sundress she wore hugging her body the bottom being ruffled and stopping at the top of her knees, the top of it in a U shape her cleavage showing the sleeves also ruffled. Shit she looked good.

Simon cleared his throat before speaking “So you know those wedges you wanted.”

She gasped “you did not!” She smiled walking over to him quickly.

Simon hanged her the bag watching her place it on the bed Opening them “oh my lord, they’re so pretty aint they!” She smiled her eyes scanning the shoe.

Simon smiled as she let her arms wrap around his neck her lips kissing his multiple times. “Ugh! I love you so much. Baby! You didn’t have to!” She spoke between kissed knowing damn well he just spent twelve hundred dollars on them.

“But I did.” He spoke simply, his hands wandering soon feeling up her ass.

She hummed “what if we just do lunch instead brunch is for white suburban moms anyway.” She joked.

“Might make you mom…”

“Simon you impregnated me now I will rain hell.”

He chuckled pushing her against the bed, “yet you still beg me to cum in that pretty cunt of yours huh?” He spoke bitting her lip.

“You better get this dress off me, and that don’t mean rip it.” She spoke the feeling of Simon’s hands already at work.

“If this is a thank you I might just buy you another pair.” He smirked against her lips.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

Sorry for any spelling errors but I figured y’all used to it reading my stuff!

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #ghost simon riley #ghost x black reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x black reader #simon riley cod #simon riley call of duty #ghost x you

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ghcstao3 · 6 months

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ghost who, once upon a time, was a trained jazz singer.

sure, his speaking voice is rough, and it has only gotten worse over the years with a smoking habit he can’t quite shake, but it’s also deep. rich. and with that training, was rather talented at singing jazz.

he doesn’t use that talent anymore, however. doesn’t bother, doesn’t have the time or reason, nor the particular want to broadcast that sort of thing. but even still, when he’s in private, sometimes he’ll hum or sing to himself quietly just to relish in one of few happy memories from his younger days.

at least, he does so when he thinks he’s in private. because despite his uncanny ability to tell whenever there’s another presence, no matter how silent—soap discovered that ability isn’t quite as good, late at night, when ghost is shuffling about whatever he’s decided to do in lieu of fighting for sleep. when ghost is exhausted, soap has learned how to sneak around and listen.

not only does soap love the sound of ghost’s voice when singing, but it also reminds him a bit of his nan. the way she always played jazz records, louis armstrong or frank sinatra or ray charles always filling the empty space of her home when he was a child. it feels like warmth and comfort, and maybe it’s wrong for soap to intrude on this intimate sort of thing, but he can’t help it.

then, one night, soap overestimates ghost’s tiredness as he attempts to slip into the shadows of the common room like ghost himself so often does, right as the lieutenant has begun humming.

when it stops abruptly, soap tenses.

“i know you’re there, soap.”

soap, not johnny. soap has made quite a mistake, then.

though ghost’s back is turned, soap steps further into the room as he hurries to apologize.

“‘m sorry, lt, i didn’t mean t—“

ghost heaves a long sigh, bunched shoulders relaxing as he braces himself on the counter where he’s been making tea. “s’alright, i guess. just… don’t tell anyone, yeah?”

soap swallows, nods. “‘course not. i just—you have a nice voice.”

ghost snorts. “thanks. now go back to bed, would you, sergeant?”

“sure, yeah.” soap huffs, tapping an irregular pattern into the fabric of his sweatpants. “i’ll… i’ll do that.”

and he does, this time. he tells himself it’s only for now, that he’ll end up snooping again in a week or so’s time, but he never does.

it isn’t until they’re on leave, for the first time since getting together, does soap finally get to hear that beautiful, soothing singing voice again—and he knows very well not to take that for granted.

#this has been plaguing my mind i might write a whole fic #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #soapghost #ghoap #ghostsoap

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sassyfrassboss · 5 months

Text

So I have been following along quietly for a few months now. Not gonna lie, pretty burnt out on all of this. Pretty much at the point where the BRF needs to shit or get off the pot when it comes to Harry and Meghan. Strip the titles and give the US Gov a strict ultimatum, the UK or THEM. Take them off the royal website and shut down any and all connection to them for good.

I will tune in if there is a divorce. No way in HELL would I miss that. Especially since I have been dying for one since May 20, 2018.

As for the new book and Omid once again showing his true colors...yeah we all knew that was going to happen. I knew in advance this book was going to be a total dumpster fire and a pile on Kate. Don't need insiders or a psychic to tell me that...

However, it never crossed my mind he would claim Kate was one of the royal racists. I truly didn't think he, nor Meghan, would go that low. But alas, I was wrong.

I figured he would call out Charles as one of them but I thought he would claim William was the other.

Remember also, Meghan claimed that there were MANY conversations held regarding Archie, although according to Harry this was before Meghan was even pregnant and Meghan was never part of these conversations.

Back in 2018 before the wedding, we all know Kate was pregnant with Louis. Now I can see Harry inquiring about Kate's pregnancy and what it was like to prepare himself for future fatherhood. I can also see a conversation happening in regards as to who this potential baby would take after looks like since George looks like Mike Middleton and Charlotte looks like William. Heck, this conversation could have happened before he even proposed to Meghan.

What I can see happening is a casual conversation between Harry and Kate being mentioned to Meghan where Harry says "yeah we talked about what the baby would look like" and Meghan turning that into it being racist. Then over time the exaggerations begin and the next thing we know, Meghan has claimed on Oprah that skin tone was brought up and she was there...even though later corrected her saying it was before she was ever pregnant and she wasn't there.

So that's my thought on that...

As for Omid...

The biggest issue with him denying that he NEVER wrote the names of the royal racists and that it was a "translation error" is something he got right from the book of Meghan. Deny till you die or until they actually find proof you're lying.

Omid has already been caught lying under oath and he got a free pass. He is taking a page out of Meghan's book and expecting people to forget that he is a habitual liar or that he "misremembered" what actually happened.

However, we have the actual translator coming out and saying that the book she received included the names and that she did NOT mistranslate the book. All this woman needs to do now is show her copy of the manuscript she received (hopefully she still has it) and we have proof once again Omid lied.

Guaranteed though he will claim that the publisher must have been the one to change the manuscript and he is innocent...

Which either scenario leaves him without credibility or any future jobs because no publisher or network will touch him after this...

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

The Grey Zone 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: We're back

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Your bedroom door swings open, the handle knocking against the short shelf of figures behind it. You clutch the black skirt in your hands and face your mother as she gives you that look. The one dripping in disappointment and loathing. She’s hungover, you can tell by how she squints.

“Are you not ready yet?” She sneers, a Louis bag dangling from her elbow.

“Almost,” you assure her, rolling your tongue nervously, “mom, are you sure I should come? Work isn’t very happy about the time off and–”

“How dare you,” she accuses, flinching at the spark of her own temper, bringing her manicure to her temple, “Lloyd has been very nice in inviting us all to the lake house and I will not have you spoil it with your attitude.”

“I wasn’t trying to… I just thought…”

“Stop thinking,” she points at you with a long shellacked nail, “you’ll ruin everything.”

You snap your mouth shut. For her, this is another vacation. You know her plans don’t extend past wine and naps in the sun. And it is supposed to be a ‘family trip’. If you don’t go, your father might just tell her to stay behind too. It’s not that she wants you to go, but she wants to be sure she gets to go.

“I’ll be ready in like ten,” you spin back to your bed and tuck the skirt into your duffle.

“Make it five,” she huffs with the click of her tongue.

She prances off and you shake your head at the stacks of clothes in front of you. You cut it down as you roll up each piece to fit into your bag. You don’t need much. You shove your chest of makeup at the end and tuck your toiletry pouch inside.

You grab your leather knapsack and slide your laptop inside with your textbooks. You wonder if you’ll even have a signal all the way up north. If not, you’ll have a lot of catching up to do. Oh well, maybe it will be nice to get away. Or maybe you’ll be in hell, trapped in an isolated cabin with your own parents.

And him.

You shove a few novels in along with your computer and zip it up. You drag your stuff towards the door and grab your jacket from the clothes rack against the far wall. The long black trench goes well over your wide-leg curtain paints and razor back halter. You pop on a wide brimmed black hat and your favourite pair of sunglasses; black lenses framed with silver.

You grab your bags and haul them out of your room, making the slow and perilous descent to the first floor. You leave your bags right behind your mother’s pile of matching Louis luggage and wiggle your feet into your clunky Mary Janes.

Your mother emerges with a sunhat and a pair of large square framed sunglasses. She winks at you as she tucks a flask into her purse. You say nothing and cross your legs, perching on the bench impatiently.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” She harrumphs.

“Yeah?” You look down.

“You don’t have anything… lighter? It’s sunny out.”

You shrug, “we’ll just be in the car.”

You stare at her bags. How much does she need to bring? The physics of packing all of it into the SUV worries you. You fully expect to be crammed in next to her bandouliere bag.

“Constance!” Your father’s voice booms as his steps pound onto the porch. You look at the screen door as he rips it open, “well,” he stops short inside, “I told you to start bringing your shit out.”

“I told you, my shoulder,” your mother pouts, “yell at your daughter, she’s the one sitting around.”

Your father huffs and grabs her largest bag, pointing at you then the rest of her things, “well, let’s get this going. I don’t wanna be driving past midnight.”

You get up and grab two of the lighter bags. You roll your eyes behind your lenses, knowing you won’t be caught. You follow your father out the front door, the weight of your mother’s excess chafing your fingers. What did she pack?

The hatch door of the SUV is already open. Your father’s things are neatly placed against the wall of the trunk. He hikes up your mother’s suitcase in the other side and it takes up much of the remaining space. You place the two in hand on top and ponder the last three. It’s like a very unfortunate game of Tetris.

“Go,” your father snaps his fingers, “get the rest.”

You don’t argue. As you come up on the porch, your mother emerges with a bright pink travel tumbler in hand, slurping on the straw as your left to wonder at the contents. You dip inside and retrieve her smallest bags; a perfect circular valise and two more oblong ones.

You hand them off to your father and he grumbles under his breath as he tries to fit them into the hatch. You return to the house to get your own bags. You won’t mind sitting with your own things.

The backseat offers little hope as you find a large cooler taking up more than half of its length and fishing rods across the floor. So, where exactly are you supposed to sit?

As you stare, perplexed by the puzzle of your own belonging, a horn toots and a car rolls up the driveway, coming just short of your father as he turns to stare down the Bentley. You keep your knapsack on your shoulder and your bag clutched tight.

You face Mr. Hansen as he climbs out of his car, leaning on the door as he looks over it at your dad, “Ray Ray, ready to go?”

“Just loading up,” your father answers.

“Holy shit,” Mr. Hansen snorts, “you know you’re not moving in for good, right?”

“Connie’s shit,” your father snarls.

Hansen shuts his car door as he strides up the tarmac. His focus shifts as he sees you standing listless. He flicks his sunglasses up and gives a crooked smirk.

“Hey, sunshine,” he greets, “uh, Ray,” he stops, just a few inches from you, pivoting towards the back of the SUV, “where exactly is the baby girl supposed to fit? You strapping her to the roof?”

“She’ll squeeze in,” you father dimisses.

“For eight hours?” Hansen’s fingers tickle along the back of your arm and he squeezes just above his elbow, “I got lots of room.”

“I don’t care. Take her, then,” your father barks, “I got Lonny bringing up supplies, I don’t needa worry about all that.”

“Hear that, starbright, go toss your things in mine,” Hansen twirls his keyring and holds it out to you, “lots of legroom.”

“Um, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue,” your father slams the hatch door. “He’s right, we don’t got the space.”

You could suggest your mother leaves a few things behind but you know that will only end the same. You take Hansen’s keys and thank him. He grins and steps back, not much, just enough for you to pass, just close enough for you to brush against him.

You go down the drive, surprised to find yourself trailed by another set of steps. You glance over your shoulder as Hansen circles around you, “bottom button, sunny.”

You hit the fob and the trunk pops open. He seizes your bag before you can react and puts it in next to his. You slip your knapsack down your arm and he just as quickly has it in hand.

“Couldn’t imagine eight hours in a car with those two,” he says quietly, “you’re welcome.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

You cross your arms and step back as he closes the trunk. He keeps his hand on the sleek pant and eyes you up and down. He tilts his head and his tongue pokes out.

“You feel like driving,” he asks, “I don’t mind.” He pats the butt of the car, “she handles well.”

“Um, it’s okay…”

“Come on, you get the first hour and we can switch at the rest stop,” he goads, “I woke up fuckshit early.”

“Alright, I guess,” you keep the keys in your hand and go to step around him.

“Wait, wait,” he blocks your path, “one more thing.”

“Alright?” You frown.

“I didn’t say…” he reaches to tap the brim of your hat, “you look fucking good.”

You don’t know how to respond. You’re unused to compliments and a simple thank you would do but something about his tone has you tongue-tied. You wipe away your chagrin and try to smile. Your lips just quiver and fall straight.

“Right, let’s stop dragging ass,” he spins and struts up the driveway, “Ray,” he calls to your dad, “here’s the spare key. In case you get ahead of us.”

You chew your lip and slowly walk along the side of the car. You unlock the doors and open the driver’s side. You reticently get in and take off your hat, twisting to throw it in the backseat. You turn straight and adjust the seat and steering wheel. It’s a really nice car.

The passenger door opens and Lloyd drops in, sliding the seat all the way back as he stretches his legs. You leave the keys in the cupholder and push the ignition. The engine rolls as you take in the breadth of controls. Nothing too unusual.

“What’s that shade of lipstick called?” Lloyd leans on the armrest of his seat, “how many shades of black can they sell?”

“Um, I don’t know,” you fix the mirror.

“Like those glasses. Where’d you get them?”

“Amazon,” you answer as you shift into reverse, the camera showing on the console screen. You grip the wheel and slowly back out.

“Now, don’t be afraid to put that foot down once we hit the highway,” he says, “she’s got a lot of power. She can handle it.”

“Mhmm,” you stop at the end of the driveway and look both ways down the street. “Got it.”

🖤

As promised, you trade places with Lloyd after the first hour. He’s a bit more heavy-footed and you find yourself with your hand on the door as you brace yourself with his careless and aggressive passing. You’re a cautious driver and his style has you almost dizzy. You’re not bold enough to tell him to slow down.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asks, “no squabbling middle-aged assholes to listen to.”

“Sure,” you grasp the seat belt as you keep a wary gaze through the windshield.

“Hopefully it’s only more of this, baby,” he continues, “my house, my rules. You don’t worry about mommy and daddy.”

You nod and hold back a squeak as he swoops in front of another car. You wish you had kept driving. You hate this.

“I’ll be working on my tan as daddy does all the hard work,” he scoffs, “been a long year.”

You listen, almost curious as he’s rarely anything close to transparent. You would never imagine him having a bad day. He seems to carry it with that no fucks given strut. He swerves again and you can’t help but elicit a rather pathetic noise.

“Mr. Hansen, can you�� slow down a little?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer right away but he does as you request. “I get it, you wanna enjoy our time together,” he snickers.

“Uh, well, I get a bit carsick,” you utter.

“Ah,” he accepts with an air of disappointment, “can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me Lloyd? This Mr. Hansen business makes me feel old as shit. I’m not, you know, I got all my faculties,” he lets out a small chuckle, “just so you know.”

“Right, Lloyd, sorry,” you say, “dad just… you’re his friend so he–”

“Yeah, real tight ass but damn good at what he does. The biggest fuckers always are,” he scoffs.

“I guess…”

“So, those girls, they bug you again?” He keeps the same pace in conversation as he does driving. You’re disoriented by the flip.

“Haven’t seen them, no…”

“You know, they’re just jealous,” he says, “I know girls like that. I’ve f– met a lot. They’re not worth it.” He shakes his head and laughs, “hate to say it, but your mom is one of those. Never a nice thing to say about anyone but herself.”

You lean into the seat and bend your arms in front of your stomach. You know that. Deep down, you know your family is imperfect, you just didn’t realise how obvious it is.

“You’re young. Shit’s tough when you’re figuring it out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur.

“You got Spotify or something?” He asks abruptly, once more jarring you. “Got bluetooth in here. May as well put something on, we got time.”

“Right, uh, I could…” you dig your phone out as he pushes buttons on the steering wheel with his thumb. The screen flashes with the pairing symbol.

You find the right connection and scroll through your playlists. You don’t know if he’ll like any of those. Maybe you could find something generic.

“What do you like?” You ask.

He answers with a chortle, “nah, you put something on. I wanna hear your music.”

“Well, it’s a bit… of an acquired taste.”

“My car, my rules, put your music on,” he demands.

You resign and tap shuffle on your weekly mix. Joy Division drones from the random selection and you black out the screen. You’re comforted by the familiar tones.

“Holy fuck,” Lloyd says, “this is old shit. Before my time, even.”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “it’s just a shuffle–”

“Not complaining,” he smirks, “glad I actually know this one.”

You exhale and try to relax. It’s going to be a long ride and you're thankful he opened that door. You don’t know how much longer you could handle his chaotic conversation. Only six hours or so, you can make it if you have music.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the grey zone #the gray man

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axelsagewrites · 10 months

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Daemon Targaryen*Shopping

Sugar Baby Series Part Three

Part one - Part two

Pairings: Daemon x f!reader

Other pairings: reader x platonic Jace/Cregan/Sara/Aly/Aemond, Jace x Sara Snow

Warnings: creepy Aegon, Aemond having bad parents (Aemond redemption arc anyone??), general confrontation, swears, mentions of sex but nothing graphic, innuendos

Word count: 3390

Masterlist Here

“Remind me why we have to go to work when your sugar daddies already paid our bills for the next like six months?” Sara asked after you had both just sprinted to catch the bus.

You rolled your eyes as you stood on the bustling city bus filled with stoners and depressed office workers, “When did it become our money?” you asked. By this point you had gone on several more dates with Daemon. All to fancy restaurants and lunch spots.

He’d also began to send outfits to your house for each, making sure they were sent in discreet packaging still not trusting your neighbours. Gucci belts, Louis Vuitton heels, Chanel dress, Prada bags. Each date got a new outfit, hand picked by a stylist he had hired for you. each date also got an envelope discreetly passed to you as he kissed you goodnight. These goodbye kisses may have started out slow, but one time Sara had genuinely wondered if you were having sex on the doorway with how long it was taking. The best part? You didn’t have to pick up as many shifts so for once you felt you could relax. Sadly though, you still kept working despite it all.

Sara wrapped her arm around yours, partly to try keep steady on the bumpy roads as she held onto a handrail, “I’m your sugar baby now,” she said as she leaned into you making you laugh, “How many dates till you can get a car? Oh! Try get his Benz!” She chirped as an old lady a foot away glared at her. sara just glared back.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I’ll see what I can do. Still waiting on him texting me the next date,”

“Make it soon,” she groaned. The rest of the bus journey was mostly uneventful apart from the lady sara had developed a silent beef with. Luckily, she got off before you. the restaurant wasn’t supposed to be too busy tonight however that didn’t make it safe from a Targaryen invasion.

Aly smiled unnaturally wide as you and Sara walked in, arms linked laughing. “Hey guys,” she said, drawing out the words with the biggest smile. She may be a server and a host, but she was a horrible liar. “How are you?” she asked.

Your stomach felt hollow as you realised, “Oh god not again,”

Aly told you both how Aegon had practically skipped down a few months ago when he graduated business school and now that Alicent had tracked him down and dragged him back she, her father, husband and eldest son were now due in for dinner to celebrate. “It is so not my turn, nuh uh no way,”

“Don’t worry its Cregan’s turn,” Aly said as she looked over the reservation, “I gave you the good section tonight, remember me when you marry rich,” she said, smiling as she leant on the host stand.

“You bitch,” you said as you smacked Saras arm, “How many people did you tell?”

“Ow!” Sara whined as she hit you back. “It wasn’t me gold digger,” she said as she swapped placed with Aly to take over as host, “Bet you it was Cregan,”

You rolled your eyes when Aly told you that basically everyone knew, “What about Aemond?” you asked as you tied your apron on, “Speaking of where the hell is he?”

“He’s tots freaking out about his mum coming in with Aegon and is going all perfectionist on the layout,” Aly said as she picked up her bags, “Mans been driving me up the wall. But he doesn��t know. we’re not that cruel besides he barely talks to us now,”

How is he not lonely you wondered. Before you could even protest Aly beelined for the door and you heard a loud huff, “No loitering!” Aemond puffed out his chest as he practically dragged you to the server stand, Sara giving a sorry wave as you went, “Everything needs to be perfect today, my mothers been on my case about this place and she needs to see that im still the better son so you better bring you’re a game-“

Wait a minute. “What?” you said as you stopped in the middle of the floor. There were only three tables in right now and four servers, but Aemond still walked right up to you to ask what’s wrong, “I had her last time?”

“And?” he asked, crossing his arms, “Why can’t you serve her this time? she likes you,”

You couldn’t help but snort, “Aem we used to be friends, remember?” you asked, touching his shoulder, “Remember our walk-in conversation?” you asked with raised brows. One-night Aemond practically had a breakdown his first month on the job because his mother had come in and was tormenting the staff all night, “We both know she’s a nightmare,”

“C’mon she’s my mom,” he sighed as he finished dragging you to the host stand, “Do me a favour. Since we used to be friends,” he said, rolling his eyes when he said used to, “Though I thought we still were,” he muttered and for a second you almost felt bad, “Just do your job its not that hard,” then he opened his mouth again.

“Whatevs Aemond,” you said as you logged into the tablet, “Don’t you have a rota to fuck up?” before he could protest a chef came out to drag him into the kitchen to complain about the latest food order. You knew better than to back talk Aemond but the nearly $7 in your cookie tin at home was putting a pep in your step.

Hearing that Alicent liked you was the only thing that worried you. daemon had been in a couple times since your arrangement had started and each time, he gave you a sly smirk or a wink. Whenever there was no Hightower in sight, he would request your section but even still she seemed to be catching on to some kind of tension.

When you arrived at their table to take their order you were met with the confused eyes of Aegon Targaryen, “(Y/N)?” he asked, tilting his head when he saw you before he suddenly stood up, “Long time no see,” he said and before you could say anything or even move he’d wrapped his arms around you for a brief, but very touchy hug. “How’ve you been doll?”

That name was exclusively reserved in your mind for daemon so when Aegon said it you quickly pulled him off of you with a smile, “I’m good Mr Targaryen, can I get you a drink?” you said as you showed him back to his seat. Alicent was muttering something under her breath, eyes glaring daggers into the table, “Can I get you anything ma’am?”

“Water for the table and- “

“Plenty of lemons? Of course, ma’am,” you said, cutting her off and trying not to smirk. No matter what Alicent knew, there was something she did not know. daemon had already given you all the dirt on her. he had told you every crumb of his family drama and for once you felt like you had the upper hand. “Anything for our regulars,” you smiled as you jotted down on your notepad.

Viserys seemed extremely pleased that you had recognised their frequent visits but Alicent and Otto both looked mortified. When it was finally time to take their orders, Otto spoke up first, “I’ll have a medium rare steak with no pink and not burnt either hear me? I swear your kitchen people can’t cook steak to save their life,” he muttered.

Then order something else. You wanted to scream. The whole night went like that. Alicent’s petty requests and Aegon’s creepy stares. Even Aemond had asked if you were okay at one point. You’d snuck off to the kitchen to send a quick rant text to daemon, asking how he could be related to these sorts of people.

Otto had sent back his steak for the third time, everyone else on desert as he waited. “Medium rare no pink,” you said, trying your best to smile as you sat down his impossible order. “Enjoy,”

“Wait,” he said as he picked up his cutlery, “I want to make sure its right before you run off again,” you nodded and waited as he cut into the meat, excruciatingly slow, “Again!” he yelled as he slammed the cutlery down, making even Alicent jump, “Look at all this blood! He said as he picked up the plate only to clatter it back onto the table, “Does that look medium rare to you?” he asked, pointing the steak knife at you.

“Yes,” you said blankly, ignoring the vein that almost bulged out of his forehead, “Do not yell at me sir,”

“Excuse me?” Otto yelled as he stood up, dropping his knife onto the table, “I never- I come here all the time and- Aemond!” he yelled across to the boy who was trying to hide behind a bar tender, “Talk to your staff this is ridiculous,”

Aemond practically ran over as he tried to defuse his grandfather, begging him to sit down at the same time. “She’s sorry, aren’t you?” Aemond asked as he grabbed your arm, looking at you with pleading eyes.

You briefly glanced at Sara who was watching this whole thing from the host stand and Cregan who had just walked in for his shift. You turned back to the group, looking at Alicent first, glancing over to the sulking Viserys and Aegon who had finally grown some humility, then finally the grown man yelling like a child. “I’m sorry you never learned how to order a steak,” you said slowly, ignoring how Aemond tried to pull you away and shaking him off, “Learn how to order a steak and find some manners,”

Before Otto could speak you continued, turning to face Aemond who looked on the brink of tears, “I quit, you can have my tables and as for yous- “you said turning to face the table. Aegon’s jaw went slack as he stared at you in amazement while Viserys looked at his wife, fear radiating off of him. Alicent however looked shocked, angry, and embarrassed all at once, “Have a pleasant fucking day, see ya,”

With that you stormed out to the host stand, not even bothering to clock out or put your tips in the tip out jar and grabbed your jacket from the rack. You glanced back to see Alicent and Otto screaming at Aemond, pointing at you with flailing arms. “I quit,” you told the shocked siblings, “And I think I might have accidentally got Aemond killed. Good luck,”

“You’re my hero,” Cregan said, his eyes wide with awe like a child.

“I’ve never been so proud,” Sara said before glancing back to where Alicent and Otto were now storming over, “but you need to go. Like now. Run if you can,”

You didn’t wait another second before almost running out the restaurant however as you reached the street you felt yourself smack into someone’s chest. “Doll?” a deep voice came from the man. You looked up to see Daemon, still in his work clothes and looking down at you with worry and shock, “Are you okay?”

“We need to go,” you said as you grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the car he had just got out of, “I’ll explain in the car just go, go!” you said as you jumped in the back seat.

“To my house please,” Daemon told his very shocked looking driver, “What happened doll?” he asked as he shut the door.

You looked past him to where a bewildered otto looked around the street shocked, “I think I may have upset your sister-in-law,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I guess you got my text?”

Daemon looked back from otto to you, eyebrows scrunched and jaw hanging open, “I was coming over to yell at them but looks like you beat me to it,”

When you retold your glorious tale to Daemon, he listened in silence like he was reading the tensest book of his life. When you finished your tale, you feared for a moment that he looked almost disappointed in you. then a smirk spread across his face. “I’ve never been prouder of you doll face. Eryk change of plans we need to go dress shopping. Celebrations are in order,”

You had never been shopping with daemon, but you could easily get used to it. he whisked you past all the shops you used to frequent and straight to the nearest boutique. He sat patiently, sipping champagne as a shopping assistant helped you find and try on dresses to show him.

Daemons eyes raked up and down your figure when you stepped out the changing room for the fifth time. Daemon stood up slowly from the chair, stepping towards you and silently taking your hand to slowly spin you around, “Like it?” you giggled as his eyes finally tore away from your figure to your eyes. It was a dark purple, satin evening dress that hugged you perfectly and felt as silky as a waterfall.

“Fucking love, it,” he mumbled as he stepped in closer, placing a soft kiss to your lips, “You’re getting it,”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit much for tonight?” you asked, stepping back with a laugh to look in the mirror. It was beautiful, you had to admit, but you had also seen the price tag.

“We’ll get another for tonight,” Daemon said as he moved back to pour you your own glass of champagne, “and that can be for the gala,”

“The gala?” you asked, finally turning back to him.

Daemon rolled his eyes as he gulped his champagne down, “It’s a family thing,” he drawled as he returned to his chair, “it will be painfully dull im afraid but suppose it will be far more enjoyable with you on my arm,”

Even still after all this time you couldn’t help your flush, “We’ll see,” you grinned as you looked at the dress, “You sure it’s not too expensive?”

“Nothings too much for my princess,” he said before waving down the store woman who was hanging around like a hawk, “Can we see her in that dark red number I saw in the window?”

“Of course, sir, just one moment,”

After another three dresses you had finally settled on one for tonight. It was a silk black dress, simpler than the rest but still to die for. When you told daemon it was the one, he nodded, kissing your cheek before waving the lady back over, “Hi we’ll take this one now along with the dark red, white, and lilac dresses from before. then as for that purple dress do yous do custom sizing?”

“Of course, sir,” the woman said, practically drooling over the commission, “I can measure her right now if you’d like,”

Daemon nodded and the woman quickly fetched the measuring tape, wasting no time in grabbing your arm to start writing the numbers down, “We need it for the sixth, will that work?”

“I’ll have it done by the first,”

when you were stood at the till beside daemon you were almost sick at the prices, “Daemon you really don’t have to,” you said, gently holding his arm as the sale girl glared at you.

“Nonsense,” Daemon said as he kissed the top of your head and swiped his card like it was second nature, “Besides we haven’t even hit the jewellers yet,”

By the time you had left the mall Daemon had spent the equivalent of a small house on your outfit for tonight with a few surprise dresses. Since you still had to get ready, and it was only five daemon was going to drop you at your house before picking you up again at six. “Where do you want to eat tonight darling?” he asked as he held your thigh in the car, his thumb stroking over your skin, “Anywhere you want,”

“Why don’t we eat in?” you offered, trying to think of anyway to save him some money after the massive shopping spree you had just been on.

Daemon looked surprised before quickly nodding, “Its short notice but im sure Olivia will be able to swing bye and rustle us something- “

“I meant like,” you said, cutting him off, “Why don’t I cook for us? It would be cute, just us,” you said, as you nudged his foot with your own, “intimate even,”

“I think I like the sounds of that,” Daemon said lowly through hooded eyes, the sight alone making your heart race. Luckily, or maybe not so lucky, you were just pulling up to your street. daemon glanced out the window, “lets do it at mine though,” he said.

You laughed at his scepticism as you grabbed the bags of dresses, “Whatever makes you happy,”

“That’d be you doll,” he said, letting go of your thigh before quickly stepping out of the car. As you waited for him to open your door, something he had insisted on doing since you started your arrangement, you were able to collect yourself.

Daemon opened the door for you and helped you carry your bags upstairs, even saying hello to Robb as he left the building. You knew sara would be home by now since you knew she only had a short shift today so you wondered how long she would squeal for when she saw the necklace daemon had bought you. when you finally reached your door daemon paused for a moment, “Im afraid I’ve not got any cash love,” he said as he handed you your bags.

You hummed in fake thought, “I suppose I can take a kiss as payment,”

Daemon chuckled as he leaned down, his hand cupping your jaw to bring you in for a brief but intense kiss, “See you in an hour doll,” he mumbled as he broke the kiss.

“Wish it was then,” you said, opening the door and giving him a small smirk as you stepped backwards into the flat, trying your best to seem seductive.

Weird, you thought, sara wasn’t in the living room. You sat the bags down on the couch before walking towards saras room. She can nap later, you thought. “Sara!” you called, hand on her door handle, “You will never believe what Daemon got-JACE WHAT THE FUCK!” you practically screamed as you opened the door.

Jace scrambled so quickly to cover them both that he fell off the bed, dragging the covers with him. You slapped a hand over your eyes as the pair both scrambled to get under the covers. When you finally looked through your fingers, they both looked mortified. “You said you didn’t like him!” you almost yelled at Sara.

“Yeah, well I lied, okay?!” she yelled back.

“Should I go?” Jace asked, reaching for his shirt.

“No,”

“Yes,”

“Dude!” Sara yelled.

“Dude! I need you to help me get ready,” you said, moving to sit on her bed. Sara was unfazed by how close you were, but Jace seemed to clutch the covers tighter, “Also I need to cook for daemon,”

“You’re a terrible cook,”

“Im not that bad,”

“You burnt water,” she said, glaring at you, “Ugh fine I’ll help,” she said as she moved to grab a shirt before turning back to Jace, “This was amazing babe. Just give me half an hour, an hour tops, and I’ll be right back, okay?” she said, kissing him softly making you fake gag.

A love smitten smile fell over Jaces face as he looked at sara who quickly got dressed. “Okay,” he said like he was in a dream before falling back to lay down.

When you walked into the living room with sara you paused for a moment, “If you break his heart- “you began to talk before sara shushed you.

“I do actually like him,” she sighed, “I caught feelings, I know its weird. But he’s so cute,”

“At least I won’t be alone at the gala,” you said making Sara raise an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you all about it while you do my hair,”

Sara sighed as she shoved you down onto the chair, “Why do I have a bad feeling about this gala?”

If you don't want to read smut you can skip the smut part without the series plot being affected

Part four smut edition here

a/n: so this is offically gonna be a 5 part series now. part 4 will be up tommorow then part 5 a couple days after that so dont worry its almost here i swear i promise

Part four non smut here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @delicious-xx @pet1t3 @skyesayshi @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dark-night-sky-99 @lantsovheiress @themotherofblood @avalyaaa

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tomboy014 · 1 year

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The Prince's

So, I hadn’t originally planned on doing anything for Dani, but this post from @aziraphale-is-a-cats-a-cat got me thinking about things, and I ended up writing this.

So, while the men of the Justice League are trying to figure out who Dani is a clone of, Wonder Woman takes one look at the black haired, blue eyed, mischievous girl and can’t help but see herself in her and claim, “Mine.”

The rest of the League try, but there’s no arguing with Diana now that she’s set her mind on something, but Bruce and Clark have kids and know it’s not as easy as it looks to take care of them. She’s only ever been the “fun aunt;” she’s never had to get into the dirty, exhausting parts of parenthood before. It escalates to a full-blown argument, but if Dani has any say in it, she’d rather chill at Wonder Woman’s place for a while. It sounds better than staying in some gross cave or ice castle, and space isn’t her thing (the same way it’s Danny’s), so she’d rather not stay in the Watchtower.

Arguments about clones and custody continue over the next few weeks, not helped by the fact that Dani is still pretty unconcerned about the whole situation. Or, she was unconcerned until Vlad showed up. He’d decided enough was enough and it was long past time he collect his property.

It only takes a single scream.

Diana bursts into the room, fist connecting with Vlad’s jaw, and he’s knocked across the room.

“Don’t. Touch. My child.”

She proceeds to hand his ass to him on a bronze platter before he flees into the night, bruised and bloody.

Now it’s Dani’s turn to latch onto Diana’s leg, shouting “Mine!” This is her new, kick-ass mommy and no one else can have her. Dibs! No take backs! Well, it’s settled, now. Diana is officially Dani’s mom, and no member of the JLA can stop it. She scoops Dani up in her arms, and before she’s even out the door, she’s already telling the other Amazon’s the good news and making plans to take Dani to Themyscira to meet her γιαγιά Hippolyta.

The two work on figuring out family life, and all’s good for a while. Dani’s got a (relatively) stable home life and is quickly adapting to life as “Danielle Prince.” She likes that the name sounds similar to Diana’s, like it was on purposeful choice rather than a cheap knockoff of her original’s name, and she’s getting a lot more comfortable with it. Bruce, thoroughly defeated and resigned to put away the adoption papers, helps her enroll is a good school and finds tutors to catch her up on the years of schooling she didn’t live through. (This includes Jason Todd, who has volunteered himself as an excuse to hang out with Wonder Woman more.) Louis helps her get legal paperwork and documents for Dani (something she helped do for Kon). She makes friends with Damian and Jon. And she’s just as skilled as Danny with language, so she’s picking up Greek rapidly.

Since Diana’s adopted her and she’s gained an army of superpowered babysitters, Dani is finally starting to feel comfortable enough to share some information with the League. It’s not much, but she lets them know Plasmius is the one who cloned her, and her last name used to be Fenton.

Oh, no. Between those colors and facial features, Clark has a pretty good guess at which Fenton family she came from. Still, the family is enormous, so he doesn’t know which Fenton exactly was cloned, but the family reunion is this year, and wouldn’t hurt to give Dani a bigger support system. Would she and Diana like to come?

Vlad, meanwhile, has recovered and is pissed. After shadowing Wonder Woman from a healthy distance, he finds out she’s supermodel Diana Prince. Plasmius may not have been a match for Wonder Woman, but billionaire Vlad Masters is more than capable of taking some supermodel down a peg or two.

So, he approaches Diana at work, telling her he knows who she is and that he wants his “daughter” back. His “minion” might not have been a match for her, but if she refuses to comply, he’ll ruin her career.

And she laughs. Laughs right in his face. Loudly. Because she knows he’s bluffing. A billionaire and supermodel isn’t anything new as far as the media is concerned; it’s a cliché. But a deadbeat billionaire dad threatening to steal back an illegitimate child from an abandoned single mother? After years of not paying any child support? The media would eat something like that right up. Something that could drop stock prices and ruin political careers. That’s something anyone would be desperate to keep hushed up and out of the media spotlight, and she’ll drag him kicking and screaming into said spotlight if he comes anywhere near her daughter. Or maybe the media would prefer to know the real story about his illegal cloning? After all, that went over so well for Lex Luthor.

Vlad leaves, and Diana makes a few calls. First, she makes sure Clark heard everything in that conversation and sets him on the warpath against DalvCo if need be. She gets Bruce up to speed, and if there’s one thing he’s in the best position to do, it’s to hit Vlad where it really hurts: his wallet. Vlad was already a pretty scummy businessman. Wayne Enterprises didn’t need much of an excuse to cancel or back out of business deals with him.

But Diana is still shaken up by the event, even if she’s not going to let it show. Right now, she wants to send Dani away to Themyscira behind a wall of Amazons where she knows no one will be able to touch her, but Bruce and Louis talk her down. Dani’s finally settling into a normal-ish life, and uprooting her now will not help her, and if push comes to shove, trying to whisk her away will not look good to the courts. Louis knows a great lawyer, and Bruce is willing to foot the bill.

For Vlad, that did not go as expected at all. He hadn’t expected her to know Danielle was a clone, and he doesn’t want Danielle to be public knowledge. However, he has no intention of getting lawyers involved; she’d be expecting that. No, he has something far more insidious planned. It’s been decades since he’s attended one, but the Fenton Family Reunion should be coming up soon, and as far at that family is concerned, once a Fenton, always a Fenton. She’s prepared to fight lawyers? Well, Let’s see how she fares against an army of angry grandparents and disapproving aunts demanding that his poor child be returned to him once he sets the family on the warpath.

#dp x dc #dani phantom #wonder woman #dani fenton #danielle prince #diana prince #extended family au #this idea sorta threw a wrench into how i'd originally planned to post the stuff for this au #but i think the new order will work out better this way #no one's getting forgotten #they'll all be addressed in time #and i think the new post order will work out much better #at this point #dani is the only kid from amity park who's “out” to the supers #no one else knows about each other #it's all gonna go down at the family reunion

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dribs-and-drabbles · 3 months

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The things I loved about Last Twilight ep 11:

Night joking with Day about not farting whilst stood at his hospital bedside...the same place Mhok then wears a shirt with 'Proud' on it later as Night explains Porjai's baby's name is Poomjai - which translates to 'be proud' - harking back to the Fart Proudly shirt from ep 2. 👏🏼

Mhok's 'St Louis Blues' shirt at the beginning of the ep setting us up for all the heartache later:

"I hate to see the evening' sun go down...

...I got them Saint Louis Blues; just as blue as I can be

He's got a heart like a rock cast in the sea

Or else he wouldn't have gone so far away from me"

"You're not disappearing on me, are you? / If you can see again, don't disappear on me." | "I can't see" | "Let's break up"

Mhon, Day's mom, watching Day and Mhok through the hospital room door and slowly warming up to their relationship. Explaining that she's not against them dating but that she's concerned that Day needs someone who has the means to take care of him. Inviting him to be there when Day takes his bandages off, effectively inviting him into the family circle, giving him a chance.

Day reassuring Night that he doesn't need to feel guilty still when the operation doesn't work. 😭

This shot in particular, as the series has shown us before, Mhok is Day's eyes:

"True blindness is the inability to see any hope" and Day's singular tear.

I'm mentioning it again but Mhok wearing a shirt with 'proud' on it with Day in a shirt with 'goodtime / nice dream come true' on it, whilst Night tells Porjai she should be proud to have carried the baby alone, and for both Porjai and Night to have gotten the dream family -> her baby and a wonderful parent/soon-to-be-spouse.

But also them wearing those shirts during dinner with Day's mom and Night - a dream for Mhok to be accepted and both Mhok and Day being proud of Mhok's achievements. #proud

Food as a love language -> come eat with us, try this food I created and cooked and gave to my two sons and now I'm offering it to you...be part of our family.

Without realising perhaps, Mhon sows the seed of pressure on Mhok to be able to provide for Day when they're talking in the hospital when she says she just wants someone who can really take care of him - who has the means to do it. And then in letting Day go to Songkhla with Mhok to test whether they can live together, she's increasing the pressure Mhok feels. Which then gets amplified during the car accident and when Day doesn't answer the phone. All this leads to his decision to not leave Day.

The parallels of Day/Mhok and Porjai/Night when it comes to roles in their relationships. Night says he doesn't understand what his mom means when she says 'being a caretaker and a boyfriend are two different things' - now, we haven't seen much of Night and Porjai's relationship but I'd be willing to bet he's being more of a caretaker to Porjai than a boyfriend at the moment - he calls her Khun, she brushes off any suggestion that something is going on between them, and she goes to live with her mom... I wonder if we'll see Night coming to an understanding about this differentiation in ep 12, and whether it will play a role in helping Day and Mhok's relationship 🤔

TOTO!! I had been waiting for an appearance by Au. By the way, Day's new caretaker in ep 10 (the rude one from the end of the interviews in ep 1) is also an assistant director on the show, Meng Chaiyapat, so that's two cameos. I wonder if we'll get a third with Aof.

Mhok's blue lightening underpants! Plus the parallel of Mhok waking Day up with the dripping wet hair on his face.

How gestures and touches serve as a language for Day and Mhok - touching the lips as a way to communicate that one wants to kiss for example - and that touch in general is so weighted for them...but that they also use these things to trick and keep teasing each other.

The green and blue towel hanging next to each other over the airer in Day and Mhok's room. 😭

Mhok's 'Hawaii' shirt when he tells Day he wasn't chosen to go. (I missed this the first time round).

The way Day actually is giving it the most on the dance floor and genuinely deserved to win but can't see/understand that. Day automatically assumes that every good thing that comes his way is because people pity him. It's not surprising that this is the fear he falls back on when he finds out Mhok lied to him. This is his go-to gut reaction/response. That and feeling like he's a burden or causing trouble to others.

THE 'I LOVE YOU SO DAMN MUCH' CONFESSION SCENE. Mhok's face, the way the depths of his feelings settle within him just before he says it, the callback to the 'come closer' moment they had earlier in the ep, Day's voice cracking as he says it back, and the hug afterwards. It's all so perfect and not enough people are talking about it dammit.

Night in Mhok's blue, even Mhon has a blue dressing gown over her grey pjs, but Day is in that pink and white shirt but the pink is only over half of his body, and not on his left side over his heart, spelling trouble ahead. And as @grapejuicegay pointed out - it's not a groove mindset kind of a day, it's a rains county. The colours are colouring and the t-shirts are t-shirting.

The PARALLELS. "Read this to me" harking back to ep 1 when Day asked Mhok to read something to him, and now Day asking Mhok to read the paper. What was the text on Mhok's blue bag? 'I love to hear your voice'...? Ooof, hits hard.

Mhok respecting Day's last wish like he did when he burst into Day's room and got fired, and when he took Day up the mountain and offered to quit to appease his mom. Mhok is just so good.

"Mom, did I do the right thing?" Day realising immediately that he was too impulsive. 💔

#last twilight #last twilight the series #I wanted to show this ep some love #because there were some FABULOUS moments #that have kind of been missed/overshadowed #amongst all the other talk #I'm still a big fan of this show and I trust Aof and the rest of the team to bring it home #please keep this post positive #there are plenty of other ways to expess something different/opposite #and I respect that #so please respect this #💖

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larryfanfiction · 3 months

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Hockey Fics

🏒 The Smell of the Ice by ourownstrings @ourownstrings (3k, T)

Louis had loved the smell of the ice since she was little. Since the bottom of her driveway froze into a pond and she learned to skate by leaning on an old lawn chair – the enamel paint mixing with the ice shavings. She loved it up to the moment when the smell of ice was replaced by antiseptic and a doctor telling her to forget that hockey career. Until she’s offered an unlikely chance – cross training a figure skater who is trying to get back into the sport. If only Harry wasn’t such an ice queen. Inspired by The Cutting Edge. Written for the Girl Direction Winter Fic Fest 2020.

🏒 sensitive to pressure by momentofclarity @gaycousinlarry (4k, E)

Harry’s breath stutters on its way up his throat, his cheeks heating more with each step as Louis gets closer and Harry can’t move. Feet stuck to the carpet, heavy and unwilling, unable to shuffle away or take control, stuck in place and waiting.

🏒 On Thin Ice by Neondiamond @neondiamond (16k, E)

As the goaltender for one of the best hockey teams in the world, Harry never expected participating in his second winter Olympics would be so eventful. His hidden long-term relationship with the captain of their biggest rival team may have something to do with it.

🏒 i've got something to confess, i keep you in my pocket to use by babylwt (16k, E)

"You made Harry Styles practically swoon over you, admit you’re beautiful to basically the world, he asked for your number and you said no. Like, you have to be joking.” Bella tsks as she sits up straight, grabbing Louis’ computer off his lap and putting it off to the side. Louis moves to reach for it, sighing in defeat as he leans back against his pillows. “You know how it goes with those sports guys. They’re just after having a good time before they have to go to the next city and play another game and find another person to swoon.” Louis explains. “It just wouldn’t have worked and I’m too busy right now.” Louis shrugs. “Too busy to fuck Harry Styles?” Bella asks with a raised brow. “Yes, even too busy to fuck Harry Styles.” Or Prompt 251: Harry is a hockey player and he's in the middle of a press conference when Louis, a journalist, asks him a question. Harry sees him ans says something like "oh my god, he's so beautiful" to his teammate and only realized his mic was on when the pretty boy blushes and the room breaks in a laugh

🏒 On the Edge by zanni_scaramouche @zanniscaramouche (47k, E)

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane. Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes. A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

More Masterposts

#larry fanfiction #hockey au #sportau #ma

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avatar-anna · 5 months

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Hey , no pressure of course but I was sooo soo hyped by reading your assistant y/n story teaser any idea when it gonna be out?😭

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

so...i keep thinking i'm done, and then i keep adding more 😬😬 so here's another little snippy!

October 2014

“I just…I just can’t believe she would do something like that.”

Y/n hummed her assent as she carefully sectioned off Harry’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Harry said. “I thought she really liked me.”

Sighing, Y/n continued to quietly braided his hair as she came up with the right things to say.

In truth, this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, or one similar to it. Harry had had a few girlfriends in the years she’d been his assistant, but none of them ever seemed to last very long. There was a shallowness, an ambition, that they all seemed to share, something Harry never saw until they eventually broke up with him. He was just so kind, so eager to be loved that Y/n wondered if he really didn’t see he was being used or if he chose not to.

“You’ll find the one, H, I’m sure of it,” Y/n finally said.

Harry laughed a little, and Y/n straightened his shoulders before he moved too much and ruined her work so far. “You always say that, I feel like.”

“And I’m right, I always am. Eventually.”

He laughed again, but they soon fell into comfortable silence. Y/n worked through the long strands of his hair, braiding it nice and tight so it would hold for the duration of the show tonight. She wasn’t entirely sure why Harry wanted his hair braided tonight, or why he asked her to do it. He’d been growing his hair out for ages now, but he’d always worn a bandana or just left it loose. Or in a teeny tiny bun at the top of his head, a hairstyle Y/n had to walk him through a couple times.

But she selfishly she liked that Harry sought her out and spent time with her, even when he didn’t really have to. The rest of the boys were out sightseeing and getting a late lunch, but Harry had appeared at her hotel room door with a couple hairties in his hands and a sheepish grin. That grin was usually reserved for when he had a silly request or was embarrassed to tell her something. Like the time he and Louis bought a teacup pig and snuck it into a hotel room and asked for her help to take care of it; or when he needed her help with his Miley Cyrus costume for Halloween; or the time when she caught him watching Dance Moms by himself in his bunk on his tour bus.

When Y/n first took this job, she thought it would be for a couple months. She would travel and perfect her time management and organizational skills and hopefully not be driven crazy by young popstars who had more money than they knew what to do with. But somehow those couple months went by, then six, then a year, then multiple years went by, and she was still Harry’s assistant. And close friend. They’d known each other long enough that she felt comfortable enough to believe that.

“And…done,” Y/n said, tying off the last little braid. Somewhere down the line, she decided to get a little crazy, doing a full braid on one side and tying the other in a little bun. Harry looked a little silly, but he always seemed to pull anything off.

Harry pushed himself to his feet to look in the bathroom’s mirror. “Cool,” she heard him say. “Thanks, Y/n.”

Y/n leaned back on her hotel bed, stretching her back after bending over for an extended period of time. Part of her expected Harry to leave and catch up with the other boys, but he took her by surprise and laid down next to her so that they were shoulder to shoulder. He didn’t say anything, which made Y/n all the more aware of their close proximity. They weren’t touching, but she could feel the warmth of his skin on hers.

“So…Dance Mums?”

Rolling her eyes, Y/n punched Harry’s arm playfully. “Dance Moms. If you love the show so much, at least get the name right.”

Harry took that as his cue to pull up the show on his phone. They both flipped over onto their stomachs, leaning in close as he fired up the next episode. Y/n smiled to herself as Harry’s attention immediately became absorbed in the show. She didn’t know what compelled him to watch, or why. It was a trashy reality show about moms who fought about dance competitions. But that’s precisely why, Harry insisted once. You can’t make up that kind of drama. Y/n didn’t want to crush him and tell him that the drama was incredibly produced, so she just sat and watched with him and indulged in some mindless entertainment.

“Your show is in a few hours, just thought I’d throw that out there,” Y/n reminded him.

“Oh, don’t start,” Harry said. “I’ll stop with plenty of time to spare.”

Yeah right, Y/n thought. “I’m setting a timer.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You’ll never make it onstage.”

“Shh. It’s pyramid.”

Y/n quickly stopped talking and focused on Harry’s phone, slightly amused by the events of today. If this was how he wanted to deal with his recent breakup, then fine. She supposed there were worse ways to cope.

She still set the alarm, though.

#harry styles #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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imightgetbetter · 7 months

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One More Story

wow, guess who's made a return after all! hi guys. long time no see. i have missed you all, and i have missed matty and the missus more. i'm trying to get back into the swing of writing for some self care and i hope to be more active at night after work to do that. please be gentle with this quick little piece about how matty and the missus met, i just wanted something short and sweet. i'm going to try and do the challenge @abiiors is doing, so you should see some more writing from me in the coming weeks. as always, reblog and share and send me your thoughts. i love you all. <;33

“Daddy?”

Matty turns around to see Attie perched up against her pillows, her blanket falling heavily around her waist and her tiny arms clutching the teddy bear she can’t quite sleep without just yet. He just tucked her in, gave her exactly seven kisses (all around the perimeter of her face, as he’s been doing since she was a baby), and told her he loved her and that he would be in bright and early to get her ready for school. He’s been with Attie mainly while Lennon is struggling with the Trying Twos, a time that has been marked in the Healy household as Hell On Earth, with Lennon strictly wanting her mother and screaming bloody murder if Matty tries to take her away for even a second. Matty is taking advantage of the one-on-one time, though. He knows his little girl will not be little forever, and the thought alone is enough to kill him, or make him down an entire bottle of wine in one sitting. “Yeah, baby?”

“Can you tell me one more story? I promise I’ll go to bed right after.”

Matty tilts his head, looking at his daughter with hooded eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as she mimics his facial expression. “You can’t give me that face, Attie James. It’s time for bed. You have school tomorrow.”

“Just one story, Daddy! I’ll even close my eyes while you tell it. Promise.”

Matty can feel himself giving in, and by the quietness echoing through the halls, he can tell that you’ve gotten Lennon down for bed. A win for the both of you, this evening. Matty hums to himself in consideration, and when he hears your shower sputter on, and no instant baby screams, he concedes. “Okay. What story do you want to read? If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, again?”

“I want you to tell me how you and Mummy met.”

“Why do you want to hear that story?”

“Well,” Attie begins, moving her teddy bear to between her crossed legs, the dramatization already beginning. It’s something she’s inherited from you, Matty supposes. “Mummy and Uncle Adam were telling me about how when you were little you used to tease Mummy all the time and that meant you liked her and there’s this boy at school that teases me and I just want to know if it’s the same thing.”

Matty feels a surge of emotions filter through him for his little girl, and he smiles. He pokes his head into the hall to ensure that Lennon isn’t awake and you aren’t looking for him, and when he’s made sure the coast is clear, he nods his head and turns the light back on, walking towards her bed that is much too big for her, right now, and taking a seat beside her. “What’s this boy’s name? Do I need to come have a chat with him?”

“No, Daddy. I think he’s just being silly. But I want to make sure he doesn’t like me, ‘cause if he does,” she pauses, “yuck.”

Matty smirks, “That’s right, yuck. Boys are yucky.”

“You’re a boy, Daddy! And so are Uncle Adam, and Uncle George, and Uncle Ross. And Uncle Louis! And Grandpa!”

“That’s exactly how I know we’re yucky.”

Attie rolls her eyes and shakes her head, pulling her teddy bear into her arms and cuddling into Matty’s open side, tilting her head ever so slightly to have her honey eyes meet his. “Tell me the story, pretty please?”

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her hair, his fingertips brushing through the wet curls, her tiny little breaths hitting his arm. “It all started the day Mummy moved in across the street…”

///

It started off like any other day.

Ross, George, and Adam were all sat around Matty’s room, fumbling around with a baby joint and a lighter. George and Ross were talking about girl they both thought was hot in their year, Adam preoccupied with his “girlfriend” – what could a girlfriend really be at fourteen – and Matty had one thing on his mind, besides the joint in between his fingers. He had seen this girl a few times around school, but never caught her name. She was in their year, in a few of George’s classes. Matty passed her in the corridor and saw her at lunch. She kept to herself, usually opting for a book and a highlighter rather than a group of uniformed friends.

Matty hadn’t said anything to the guys just yet, but they could tell something, or someone was on his mind. They were his best friends, after all. They could tell. Especially when he stopped ogling the English teacher and started actually doing the readings for the one class that they all shared together.

“Boys! You need to come downstairs! We’re going to say hi to the new neighbors!” Denise called from the bottom of the steps, her footsteps growing closer and the boys scrambling to hide the weed and look semi-presentable. “Really boys?”

Matty looks at her wide-eyed and shrugs, standing to his feet and shaking his mop of curls out in the mirror. “I’m good to go.”

“Oh dear,” his mother hums, shaking her head and clicking her tongue as she turns on her heel and begins descending down the stairs, tallying the boys one by one as they exit the front door and make their way across the street.

Matty nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you standing in the doorway with a stack of books in your arms. George bumps into him, “Move, Matty. You’re in the middle of the street.” George’s eyes follow the trail of what Matty is staring at and it all clicks. “She’s the girl you have a thing for? YN?” George nudges Adam, Adam nods at Ross. “That makes so much sense, now.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, boys. I’ll introduce you. Their daughter goes to your school.”

“YN is in our English class, Denise,” Ross says with a smile, walking ahead of Matty and chatting nonsense to his mother, always the courteous one.

“She’s way out of your league, Matty,” George says with a laugh. “You do realize she’s not a delinquent, right?”

“I’m aware. Thank you. But I can make a good impression. I can do that.” Matty shakes his head and picks up his pace, walking alongside his mother and plastering smile on his face to introduce himself to your parents and you, formally at least.

Denise introduces herself and Matty, shaking their hands and begin to chat small talk about the neighborhood, the area, and the school, and as Matty pretends to listen, his eyes are scanning around for you somewhere around the house.

And then it happens.

Matty sees you.

And when he sees you, it feels like a moment in a cliché movie, where time has stopped, and he knew that something was different about you. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen up close, in person, in the flesh. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart beat faster. He was sure he was sweating and maybe even looked a bit flustered, which is why George nudges him to walk over and formally introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m YN,” you said with a smile, waving quietly and setting down another box of books. Matty was sure you probably had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with how many books you were bringing inside. “I think we have English together.”

“Yeah, I think we do,” Matty smiles, stepping forward and lending out his hand. “I’m Matty. Nice to actually meet you.” You smile back at him, and Matty felt his heart flutter. Feeling this at only fourteen felt ridiculous, but he couldn’t even help it. It was happening to him. Without any warning. “This is George, Adam, and Ross.”

“I see you guys around school all the time. Aren’t you in a band or something?”

“Yeah,” George smiles, budging Matty’s shoulder with a laugh. “You should come see us play.”

“Yeah! I’d like that. I need to make some new friends.” You paused for a minute, and Matty found himself upset that he wasn’t hearing your voice anymore. It was too early to be feeling this way. He didn’t even know you. “I actually saw you guys staring at the tree in my backyard earlier,” you giggled, kicking your foot forward and swaying back and forth. “I was going to, um,” you looked around for your mother, bringing your fingers to your lips and pretending to smoke, “back there. Do you guys want to come?”

George, Ross, Adam and Matty quickly nod their heads, an excited smile filling their faces as they wave goodbye to Denise and your mother, Matty following closely on your heels as you make your way through your garden.

///

“That’s how you met? Mummy was your neighbor? And Nana introduced you?”

“Mhm,” you hum from the doorway, stepping inside and taking a seat the end of the bed, smiling brightly at two of your favorite people. “Daddy and your uncles came to hang out with me, and it’s been all of us together ever since.”

“Well, Daddy, you didn’t tease Mummy like the boy at school teases me. Maybe he doesn’t like me.”

“Daddy teased me. But Daddy was my friend, so it was different. If you don’t like this boy at school teasing you, then you should tell him to stop.”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to tell him what Uncle George told me.”

You and Matty share a look. “What did Uncle George tell you, baby?”

“Uncle George told me to tell him to eat rocks.”

Matty laughs and nods his head, kissing Attie’s head and laying her down to fall asleep. “I think that’s a perfectly acceptable response, actually. Tell him that tomorrow.”

“Matty!”

#love it if we made it series #matty healy #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #promptober #matty fics

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