#HE TRULY IS A TINY ANGRY CHILD... I NEED MORE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multifandomimagin3s · 1 year

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Them as Dads - 141 + König

Requested by Anon

Fluff, hints of angst

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon's childhood was, to say the least, horrific.

No child should have had to experience when he went through.

Those experiences have stuck with him all his days, emotions buried deep down to a point where he doesn't feel them anymore.

There's a distinct divide between Ghost and Simon - and since he's considered legally dead, he has no reason to drop his mask anymore.

Needless to say, when he found out he was going to be a Dad, he short-circuited.

Didn't even say a word, and just left.

Of course he felt guilty for it, and he knew that what he did was wrong, but he needed to think.

The last time he had even been around a child was his little nephew...

And that tragic part of his past truly was the final nail in the coffin for him.

He was terrified of being like his own Father.

He did eventually come back but for the duration of the pregnancy, a cocktail of emotions swirled in his stomach.

The day he held his child for the first time, he was stunned.

This tiny little human, with their little button nose and - his eyes.

He grew angry - angry at his Father, and by extension the World.

How could anyone bring something so small, so fragile, so perfect any harm?

Needless to say, he's a very protective Father.

If any of the Team were to meet the baby, he probably wouldn't even let any of his comrades hold them.

Maybe Johnny - but that's at a push, and he'd be hovering around him the whole time like a shadow.

He'd be soft for his child - but he'd try to be the strict parent, teaching them to be ready for whatever the world may throw their way.

If he had a daughter, would let her paint his nails - would sit there still as a statue, watching with soft eyes at how her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth in concentration.

Speaking of, regardless of the child's gender - boyfriends / girlfriends / significant others would absolutely be interrogated before they even step a foot through the door.

"Who the fuck are you?" "You're 16?? Cunt, you look 30!"

It would essentially be like that scene from Bad Boys 2 - Soap would definitely be Will Smith in that scenario, accepting no criticism~

Would try to be there for every life event and would feel a deep seated guilt if he couldn't because he'd been deployed.

Overall, from day one, he'd made a promise to himself that he wouldn't let history repeat itself - he'd give his child everything he ever wanted growing up and more.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

I can see him as a chill Dad.

He wouldn't let his child get away with murder, but he would be good cop 99% of the time.

Would absolutely spoil them rotten - they would have to so much as look at something they liked and he'd get it for them.

It would be his Mother that would have to try and get him to reign in the spending a bit.

Also carries the baby around in one of those baby carriers across his chest.

I think he has a big, close-knit family so the child would have a ball playing with all their cousins of mixed ages.

If he had a son, definitely tries to style his baby hairs into a little mohawk with gel.

Lets his kids express themselves however they want.

They want to dye their hair? He's driving them to the shops to get the supplies.

They want a piercing? As long as they're old enough, he's fine with it - and if they want him to go with them for moral support, he's already in the car.

I think the only think he'd be awkward about would be periods.

He'd try to be helpful...but he's not great at handling it.

C/N: Dad, I got my period.

Johnny: Oh - OH! Okay, that's - that's fine...ehh...do you...do you know what to do with it...or?

I can also see him just running into a shop in an absolute panic - asking the store clerk for assistance because he doesn't even know what he's looking for.

Returns home with three massive bags of supplies.

He'd be supportive with whatever they wanted to do in life - if they wanted to go to University, he'd help them with their application; if they wanted to get a job, he'd be helping them look for vacancies, driving them to their interviews; if they wanted to join the military however...he'd be reluctant, but he would never discourage them for pursing anything.

The only thing he'd have an issue with...is if his daughter got a boyfriend.

He'd not be as...hostile as Ghost, but the silent threat is always lingering in the air.

If anyone ever hurt his child, he can switch from fun-loving Johnny to Sergeant in the blink of an eye.

Captain John Price

That child has this man wrapped around their finger from day one.

Would give them the world if he could.

Would never smoke his cigars anywhere in the vicinity of them, and would hide them out of reach - especially during the curious toddler stage.

I can see him cutting up their grapes into smaller pieces, paranoid that they'd choke otherwise.

Has dozens of photos of them wearing his hat - even got them a toddler version of his own because they liked it so much.

Doesn't matter how old they are, they're still that little smiling baby in his eyes.

So needless to say, he's very protective.

Doesn't threaten potential partners - he doesn't need to, he's a Captain in the military, so nobody would be so stupid as to try and hurt his child.

Only brings the child on base when he knows that only people he can trust are there - ie. the 141 taskforce.

Follows the toddler as they waddle around, waving happily as they pass people - Soap ends up joining the little adventure since the little one took his hand and he didn't have the heart to let go.

Speaking of, despite not being given the official title, Soap becomes Uncle Soap the moment he claps eyes on Price's child.

Gaz too - he sent Price the photos he took of them wearing his sunglasses, a beaming smile on their face.

It came as a shock to everyone when they saw the child approach Ghost.

It even shocked Ghost when the child made eye contact with him - and didn't cry. Instead, they smiled, tugging on the leg of his trousers to be picked up. And, even more surprisingly, he did.

Price never has to worry about keeping his child safe - because god help whoever tried to hurt them when they have 4 highly trained SAS soldiers coming for them.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He’d be one of those young, cool Dads.

Buys himself and the little one matching shoes.

Also matching outfits are the thing, especially during the toddler stage.

His kid would be the drippiest kid in the playground.

FaceTimes and calls home whenever he can when he’s deployed, seeing their little smiley face just makes his day so much brighter.

When he’s home he’s more than happy to spent chill days just watching cartoons with them on the couch, making pillow forts - he probably enjoys it more than the kid to be honest.

I reckon he’d struggle to actually parent the child, and would rather be their best friend than an authoritarian figure - ironic, considering he’s a Sergeant.

So it would probably be up to the child’s Mother to reign him in when he’s being a bit too soft or blasé.

Helps his kid build the best Minecraft house.

Loves being able to bring the child on base, showing them off to the Team.

Price secretly loves having the little one around, and they’re often found chilling together in his office.

Would absolutely spoil them - whether it be new toys, sweets or anything they wanted, he’d get it for them without a doubt.

Uncle Soap once spiked up the little one’s hair to match his own mohawk - Gaz wasn’t mad about it at all, and thought it actually looked cool as fuck.

If he had a daughter he would definitely sit down and learn how to do little braids in her hair.

Would also let her put little clips and bows in his hair, painting his nails to match.

He’d just be so soft for his child.

König

When the child was little, Konig was absolutely terrified that he would end up accidentally hurting them.

They were so small, barely even taller that his knee when he was standing, and all he could think about was what if he accidentally stood on their little foot or walked into them without noticing.

So, most of the time, he carried them around.

Would read books to them at bedtime, teaching them German and English to the best of his ability.

I don't think he'd wear his hood around them often, preferring his child to see his face rather than two eyes surrounded by black cloth.

Was genuinely surprised when they didn't cry after seeing him with it on; their little hand touched the cloth before breaking out into a sunny grin, "Dada!"

He probably cried a little bit after that.

He didn't have the greatest time growing up - so I think if his child ever got bullied, he would struggle to compose himself.

In his eyes, his child was perfect, so for anyone to go and make them feel bad about themselves - or worse yet, make them cry, it makes him see red.

Doesn't go and threaten the child - he'd not cruel. But the sight of a giant, masked man looming over all the other parents at school pick-up is more than enough to put the fear into anyone who had been picking on his kid.

Would probably teach them how to fight and defend themselves from a young age - he wouldn't always be around, due to deployment, so it gave him some peace of mind knowing that they would be able to defend themselves.

#simon riley #soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #konig #call of duty #cod #multifandomimagin3s

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bagopucks · 1 year

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T. Zegras - Disheveled Duckling

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 4.2k

Warning(s): Insecurities, and a tiny tiff

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“Whose decision was it to make Zegras the cover of NHL 23?”

“Tried and failed to make the new face of the league Trevor Zegras.”

“What an absolute joke.”

“Too flashy. Not enough skill.”

“Good thing the Ducks hired another useless player. I was afraid they might actually make the playoffs.”

“Wonder if he has to hold onto sh** when the wind blows”

“His girlfriend need a man’s man?”

“Holy shit!” I slammed the door to the house I’d slowly grown to love. Trevor and Jamie’s.

Jamie’s head shot up from the couch, startled and frightened by both my abrupt arrival and my anger.

“You good?” I heard him chuckle. No doubt nervous. I took my shoes off, locked the door, and turned to look at my boyfriend’s best friend. Silence filled the air around us. Jamie’s nervous smile immediately disappeared.

“It’s impossible.” My shirt was dripping with water, as were my hands. “And you didn’t even come outside to help!”

“Trevor’s car is really that unclean-able?”

“It’s yours! It’s your Jamie! What are you driving through?” His cheeks turned red. Trevor was out for a hockey game, but when I informed him that my work place was trying to schedule a late night meeting, and we hadn’t known how long Jamie was going to be at the doctors office, Trevor said he’d simply take an Uber. I felt bad when Jamie came home five minutes after Trevor had left. So I decided to go out and wash their cars for them. It was a nice day anyway, a little outdoor time hadn’t hurt.

“I don’t know?” I had managed to get Trevor’s car practically spotless before I had waxed it. But Jamie’s was something else. It had tiny asphalt pieces all over. Which was usual on a car, but I couldn’t scrape them away without chipping paint, and they wouldn’t just wipe away either.

The sun had begun setting mere minutes ago. I had given up on Jamie’s car. I was tired, I’d missed more of the hockey game than I wanted to, and now I was simply angry.

“You’re lucky I have a moral compass that says I shouldn’t hit injured people.” I grumbled as I left the living room, walking through the house to find mine and Trevor’s bedroom. I needed a change of clothes. Something comfortable.

I had been getting notifications for a while on my NHL app. I had only stopped to look at a few, but from what I’d seen, the Ducks were losing. Another reason to be stressed. Another reason to worry about my boyfriend.

I met Trevor when he played for the USA hockey team. We just happened to be in the same town and in the same pastry shop the night it happened. He was trying to order a bear claw, and I had let out a rather exaggerated sigh over the fact that it was the last one. We shared it over two cups of iced coffee.

After that, we became friends and remained so for a long time. The year he got drafted into the NHL, it seemed he’d been on enough of an adrenaline rush to ask me out. I said yes. He pursued his dreams while I pursued my own. Our paths of life ran parallel, but close enough to hold hands along our walks.

I’d been around long enough to see Trevor make records in USA hockey, get drafted, play in the AHL, and eventually join the league permanently. I’d also seen the rise and fall of his mentality as those years went by as well.

I couldn’t pinpoint when it truly started, but I would certainly say when the media began pushing to make him the new face of the league. That was when Trevor began to feel the anxiety.

To everybody else, he loved it. To everybody else, he ate up every second of attention he got. He loved the videos online, the commercials, the sponsorships and free stuff. And part of that was true. Trevor did love all of those things.

But people put so much pressure on you when they expect you to be the poster child of anything. It can change people. Hell, Sidney Crosby’s first year in the NHL was spent screaming at any ref he could over a call he didn’t like. Getting misconducts and penalties he ought not to. Good men can fall long ways under immense pressure. But when the spotlight is on you, all people want is to see you fall and fail. People want to see the hero bend and bend and eventually break.

Trevor loved the attention, but he despised the hate. He didn’t like opening his sports news apps to find articles on himself, and not having the impulse control to not read them. He hated posting something on Instagram, and going back to check a comment from a friend, only to find hate surrounding it. He hated hearing people he looked up to all his life’s putting him down left and right. He hated being misunderstood, but not given the platform to express his grievances. He had no right to discuss his feelings. Nobody would listen.

Perhaps that had been what made him feel like he couldn’t come to me. What made him pull away when I could tell he was tense and disappointed. It took me forever to really understand why he would come home looking so defeated. Looking like a parent who should have expected better from their kid. It took me forever to realize how much Trevor hated himself.

I blamed it on the publicity over and over again. They built him up so much, just to tear him back down. And I knew with each loss, there was a new article. A new post. A new video. A new comment.

My hopes were whisked away when I opened the NHL app to see the score. 5-1. Not a good look for the Ducks. Then of course, upon further inspection, opening the live summary of the game, I realized Trevor had his own ten minute misconduct.

I was never happy that he fought. That he got in people’s faces and picked fights with guys who could have pinned him down to the ice in one shove. But I understood somewhat. Trevor was just trying to look out for himself. Trying in his own short tempered way to be heard in a league that would not listen to him. But we both found through time that nobody was on his side other than his team and few friends.

“Jamie!” I tossed my phone down onto the bed as I grabbed a spare shirt and a pair of shorts. I quickly changed, the lack of response leading me to assume Jamie was ignoring me. I rolled my eyes as I walked back down the hall, stopping once I was in the living area and over the couch.

Not ignoring, somehow asleep. I worried sometimes about him and his pain medication. He was responsible with it, but I still worried. I gently nudged him. Easy to wake, per usual. And he couldn’t have been out that long.

I nudged Jamie again, watching his eyes flutter open. I gestured for him to move, and he quickly cleared a space for me on the edge of the couch. I sat and took the tv remote, turning the screen on.

“Have you had the game on at all?”

“No.. it’s been.. kinda- stressing me out.” I nodded.

“Trevor got into another fight.” Jamie wasn’t surprised. But he knew as well as I did that Trevor was struggling. On his own little broken sailboat, refusing help because he didn’t want anybody else to be caught up in his storm.

“It should be over by now.” Jamie shifted and sat up, leaning against the arm rest of the couch.

I found the channel and flipped it on. Sure enough, Jamie had been correct. I crossed one of my legs over the other, eyeing up the tv in search of my boyfriend. When I couldn’t find him, I assumed they had kicked him out of the entire arena for the last ten minutes of the game. Banished to the locker room.

I used to love games that took place in the middle of the day. Trevor would come home and we’d have dinner together. Then we’d curl up in bed and whisper for hours until we fell asleep. Now, games in the middle of the day meant there was extra time to avoid aggravating Trevor.

We sat in silence until the goal horn sounded, frustrated Ducks players exiting the ice. It was a waiting game now. One Jamie and I were happy to do together, so neither had to worry about Trevor alone.

“He’ll probably be fine.” Jamie broke the silence with a statement we both knew to be false.

“He hasn’t been fine.” I knew that in my mind, but my heart broke at the first confession of the fact. Trevor had been a wreck of emotions and I hadn’t been able to fix even one of his problems.

And he hid it all so well underneath that big smile. And all those jokes.

Jamie and I returned to silence not long after, but when we caught the headlights through the window, he had been the first to get up to leave.

“You should handle this one.. right?” I gave a nod in approval to his suggestion.

“I’ve got him.”

Jamie retreated to his room after that. Always only one call away if Trevor or I ever needed him. I was supposed to be one call away for Trevor too. Why didn’t he ever dial my number?

I waited for what felt like hours for Trevor to come inside. He never did. So I decided to see what was going on. I unlocked and opened the front door, surprised by the sight of Getzlaf’s car in the driveway. I could just barely make out the silhouette of two figures, one pointing at the other in a manner that looked tense.

I leaned in the doorway, and waited patiently before I was spotted. Getzlaf gestured, and Trevor climbed out of the car. He grabbed his gear from the back, and I heard his voice shout something to his old captain before making his way up the short drive to the door. I wasn’t sure what to say, so instead I stood there, staring at Trevor as his eyes met mine. He looked like he was waiting for something.

“Can I come in?” I was surprised by Trevor’s tone. Playful and lighthearted. I looked skeptical, but I nodded and stepped aside nonetheless.

“I was thinking we could do dinner? I miss that. Maybe- we could try.. like steaks? I know Jamie just got a pack the other day.” Trevor’s always been talkative, but this time it feels off. There was a sound in his voice I didn’t know how to place.

“Trevor I can’t cook steaks.”

“Let me do it.” I stared at him as he shut the door. He hated cooking.

“Come on! It’ll be fun! Let me take care of you.” I shrugged. What’s the worst that could happen?

Trevor insisted I sit at the table while he did his thing. I was hesitant, but I allowed him space nonetheless. Trevor tried to talk about the game a bit, but the bitter laugh that occasionally fell from his lips, and the sad sound in his voice usually caused him to stop before he got into any good details. He often stopped his own comments with something like, “guess it doesn’t matter anyway.” And the repetition of the phrase made me feel like it was a media interview. Like he was repeating and repeating just to get me to go away and stop asking questions. I hadn’t asked any in the first place. That’s what he was hesitant about.

“And the misconduct?” I hoped to look disinterested. Like it didn’t bother me, so I looked down at my phone. Trevor never turned to look at me.

“It was bullshit.” I glanced up at him. His shoulders rose slightly.

“What was it on?”

“You didn’t watch?” Trevor turned to look at me, and I don’t know why, but this time he seemed upset. I had missed games of his before… but this was the first in a long time.

“I was a little busy.” I smiled at him, hopeful to keep the clean car a secret until he could see it in the morning.

“No that’s cool..” he shrugged it off and turned back to the stove. It was definitely not cool, not to him, but he wanted to move on. So we moved on.

I listened to Trevor occasionally mumble under his breath about whatever he was making, the sweet smell of cooked meat filling the kitchen along with the sound of the sizzle of two steaks on the pan. I was certain I hadn’t missed out on Trevor learning how to cook.

Once they were finished, my boyfriend beckoned me over, and I was quick to join his side. He cut a piece and I waited for it to cool off before biting the tender piece of meat off the knife he held. At first it was perfect. Then it was oddly sweet. I made a face. Trevor noticed.

“What’s wrong with it?”

My eyes searched the various items and ingredients strewn across the counter. When I noticed it, I giggled.

“Trevor,” I nodded my head toward the container I used for sugar. I never labeled it because I knew what it was, and the boys didn’t use the big box of sugar I had set aside for baking.

“That’s sugar.” His face fell for a split second. Then he started to laugh. I thought about joining him before it all just felt off. Trevor’s eyes quickly adopted a glazed over look, his smile falling into a frown as the laughter ceased and an overwhelming look of grief overcame his features.

Trevor shook his head before turning the stovetop off. I reached for him while he reached for his keys in his pocket.

“Where do you wanna eat?”

“Baby no. We’ll fix this.”

“I don’t want to. Where do you want to eat?”

“Trevor.”

“I said I don’t want to!”

We didn’t get into fights much. We didn’t like to, but I couldn’t keep disregarding his feelings for his comfort. Something had to give.

“I love you, but you’re gonna sit your ass down and talk to me Trevor.”

“Fuck this.” He shook his head, tossing his keys onto the counter and turning to walk away.

“Trevor!” I snapped and followed him. “I am so sick of seeing you so- so sad! You have to talk to me!”

“I don’t!”

“Then who are you going to talk to? Huh?” Because I knew he was horrible at opening up.

“I don’t know! Nobody fucking listens!” I followed him all the way into our room, pushing the door shut behind myself.

“I’m listening!” I was desperate. “Trevor, I’m right. Here.” He turned to look at me. His anger eased into a blank stare, and it seemed my offer brought everything crashing down at once.

We stared each other down. Both waiting for the other to give up or make some kind of move.

“I’m so tired.” Trevor’s voice quivered, his lips pulling into a frown I hated to see. His eyes fell to the floor.

“Everybody’s so…” he drew in a breath. “Too much- it’s all too much.” Trevor sat down on the side of our bed, his head fell into his hands. “They hate me.”

There was a little kid in there. Devastated. Heartbroken that his heroes wanted him gone. That kids parents didn’t deem him a good role model. That he was ruining his own track record by trying to stay afloat. Trying to survive when nobody respected him. When refs pushed him around and legends dragged his name through the mud. Trevor just wanted to live his dream. He had fun before all the publicity. He didn’t need it, but it was forced on him.

“Nobody hates you.” I slowly made my way over, raking my hands through his hair. Trevor lifted his head to look at me, his brow furrowed and his cheeks red.

“Everybody does! I don’t want to be the guy everybody hates!” Trevor raised his voice, but I couldn’t be bothered to be upset. This was only the tip of the iceberg.

“They liked me..” his voice dropped to a mere whisper. My brow furrowed as I rested my hands on his cheeks, prepared to wipe tears as they began to fall.

“Huh?” I met his volume, Trevor closed his eyes tightly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“They liked me.. and I ruined it.” Sure, he hadn’t been perfect, but even the aggressive egotistical asshole players had fans. This wasn’t Trevor’s doing. This was the media realizing they failed and then deciding to spin his story. To make him a villain.

“It’s all my fault.” His words were interrupted by a broken gasp, I guided his head to lean against my stomach, pushing a sigh past my lips as I tried not to get too emotional.

“Trevor, this is not your fault.” I ran one hand through his hair while the other held his head.

“I just can’t- fuck!” His voice was muffled in my shirt. “I don’t want this.” I glanced down at him again, my hands travelled to his jaw to move his head from my body.

Trevor’s eyes met my own. So sad. So lost. So broken.

“I don’t want hockey if it comes with all this shit.” He tried to bury his head back against my body, but I held his jaw tightly.

“Trevor.” I carefully moved forward, resting my legs on the bed on either side of his own. I sat on his thighs and pulled Trevor in for a tight hug. His hands gripped the sides of my shirt.

“You just have to be patient. They’re gonna test you.” I whispered against his ear as his head buried in the crook of my neck.

“They test me every day.” I sighed. I didn’t know how to help. “I mess everything up.. they don’t want me. They want somebody who can actually get shit done. They want somebody bigger and faster.. and stronger. They want what I’m not.”

I rubbed at his back with one of my hands.

“Trevor, nobody gives a shit about your weight.” I had never heard a single thing on it before. Sure, maybe his mom made a comment or two about how skinny he was, but it was more so commentary when she was trying to feed him. It never had anything to do with his job.

“Yes they do.” He was insistent. I knew this was a projection. Him trying to find a reason to blame himself for something he couldn’t help. Not everybody gained muscle easily. It wasn’t a bad thing. But to him it was. To him, it was embarrassing.

“I think you look great already. If you get too big, then you can’t lay on top of me any more.”

“That’s not the point.” My joke crash landed. It only seemed to frustrate Trevor more. “People just.. they say shit.” I rested one of my hands on Trevor’s forearm while I worked the other through his hair.

“Like what?”

“That I can’t keep up.. that I’m too scrawny. I need to ‘build up.’ But I can’t! I try and I can’t! I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” He sounded desperate. Desperate for answers I didn’t have.

“It’s genetics Trev. It’s not something you can help.” I knew he tried a million different things. Nothing ever worked. And I knew how hopeless he could get when he’d go to take a peek in the bathroom mirror, and see absolutely no progress. Trevor never had an issue with his body until people started saying things about it.

He’d always wanted to get bigger, but he was patient before. He was willing to really take his time. Now one comment could leave him in the gym for more hours on end than he ought to be in there for. One chirp left him laid down next to me in bed with a shirt on and a pair of pants, curled in on himself like it would somehow make him and his insecurities any less noticeable.

“Or maybe I just shouldn’t be playing hockey. Maybe I’m just not cut out for it.” His sadness had shifted into acceptance. Like he was ready to give up.

“They drafted you Trevor. People talked about you forever. People were elated to have you in the league.”

“Yeah. Were.“

“They still are.” I sighed. “So you have an attitude? They’ll get over it. You know how many people have said they love you? They love your personality, and your talent? You’re a new version of the game. A new type of style everybody is going to know you for.” I moved my hand from Trevor’s hair. I gently traced his jawline with my fingers, holding my breath at the sight of my disheveled duckling.

“What if it never gets better?” Trevor had thought about this more than I realized. I shook my head.

“It will. There’ll be some new hotshot they’ll idolize and attack. Some new player who takes a downward spiral that they decide to torture. This won’t be you forever.. you just have to stay strong while it happens. Okay?”

“I just wanted to play hockey..” exhaustion was evident in his tone. I allowed Trevor to rest his head on my shoulder again, his breaths were heavy from trying to hold back the tears that hadn’t fallen.

“It’ll all work itself out, Trev.” My voice lowered to a whisper. “They did the same thing to Jack.. they did the same thing to Crosby. You just have to handle it better.. that’s all. You know I love you, I just think they get under your skin too easy.”

“I know.” Trevor sighed.

“You have to remember to calm down sometimes. Nobody’s ever going to listen if all you do is yell and fight.”

“That’s what Getz said.” I had been curious, but at no point did I consider asking what Getzlaf had said to Trevor. It hadn’t been my place. But I was happy Trevor told me nonetheless. It was reassuring to know somebody else was telling him the same things.

“You need a stress ball out there or something.” I joked softly, running my hand through Trevor’s hair one last time before I rested my hands on his shoulders, pushing him back so I could see him.

Trevor mustered a sad smile at my words.

“Maybe you just need to chew on your glove like Jack.” I added, trying to go two for two. It seemed that comment earned a giggle from him.

“Or reach out and talk to him.” My tone took up a more serious sound. Trevor pursed his lips and nodded. “You guys don’t talk as much as you should. He probably gets jealous of Jamie.”

I went three for three the second I noticed Trevor’s smile widen, his eyes squinting as well when he laughed.

Silence enveloped our own little world. I tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. Trevor seemed to finally relax.

“We’re gonna be okay,” I whispered as I gently placed my hands on his chest. Trevor picked up the cue to lay back as I propped myself up over him.

“And I love you.” I added softly, pressing a kiss to his collar. “And Jamie loves you,” Trevor smiled again. “And your mom, and your siblings, and your dad. And all of your friends all scattered about.” I climbed off of Trevor and slipped off the bed. He looked confused before sitting up to look at me, eventually standing as well.

“You don’t have to be perfect.” He stepped closer, resting his hands on my sides as my own slipped beneath his shirt to hold his hips. “Nobody needs you to become a body builder.” I continued. Trevor nodded slowly. “And nobody needs you to lose that attitude.” I wrapped my arms around his body beneath his shirt, gently scratching his back. His weakness. He loved back scratches. “Just keep being the Trevor I know and love. Just be yourself, okay? Everything comes after that.”

And everything did come after that. I didn’t want Trevor to lose himself or his confidence because of others.

After I got him settled, Trevor and I had cleaned the mess in the kitchen and I took him out for a quick dinner. We ate on some curbside, talking and laughing over nonsense. When we did get home, I had checked up on Jamie, prepared to ask if he was hungry before I found he’d been asleep. After that, I slipped back into our room and got settled in bed with him, flipping through streaming services until we found something to fall asleep to.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #trevor zegras #nhl x reader #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine

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freedomfireflies · 2 years

Note

hi! can i request a blurb where harry’s gf is a surfer and gets attacked by a shark while he’s on tour? idk i’ve just been really into shark videos and harry is <3 so caring so kind

“Where is she? Where—well, which fucking room?”

The sound of the loud, angry, and incredibly British request trickling into the small hospital room brings a flush to your cheeks.

You had anticipated his outrage, but you can’t quite say you’re prepared to face the wrath of Scary Harry.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” is the first thing out of his mouth as his eyes land on where you’re tucked into bed.

Offering a sheepish smile, you scoot further under the covers, calling a timid, “Don't be mad, okay?”

“Don’t be—” A scoff. Incredulous. He moves further into the room before flinging his incredibly sparkly jacket into one of the tiny chairs near the wall. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Well—" Your smile widens, which only aids in further exaggerating his fury. “Oh, relax. I’m fine—”

“I told you not fucking go,” he reminds you before running a hand through the once perfectly styled curls atop his head. Now, they’re disheveled and falling onto his forehead as he tugs. “I—shit.”

“Harry,” you repeat, straightening up once again as you bite back a laugh. “I am fine. He barely got my arm—”

“Oh, really?” A bitter snort, and soon, he’s reaching his fingers around your wrist to pry your arm from the bed and into the air between you.

Your eyes fall toward the bandage wrapped around your elbow as he thrusts his chin forward.

“They don’t just give out band-aids for no fucking reason unless it’s medically necessary.” He leans back. Point proven.

Your eyes narrow. “Okay, well, it’s not a band-aid. It’s gauze.” You tug your hand free. “And second…it’s a little scratch and it’s gonna leave a bitchin’ scar. So, I don’t really see—”

“Do you know how fucking scary it was to get told you had been taken to the hospital?” His words are sharp. Irate. And you can feel the guilt slowly creeping its way up your neck. “Just coming down for a pee and Jeff says, ‘Oh, hey, by the way. A shark tried to bite her fucking arm off and now she might be dead.’”

The urge to laugh becomes stronger, and as Harry watches you tug your lip between your teeth, his scowl deepens.

“This isn’t fucking funny.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you exhale, reaching out to grab his fingers and encourage him to sit on the bed beside you. “But…Jeff is incredibly dramatic. It didn’t try to eat me, it just—”

“I told you not to go,” Harry is quick to remind you, and you reward him with an exasperated huff.

“Yes, I’m aware. But in my defense…you were supposed to be there with me. So I could teach you how to get better—”

“Right, and then I’d get eaten.” His tone is bitter, but his eyes are alive with relief. “I don’t need to get better at surfing. That’s your specialty. My specialty is—”

“Is peeing in buckets under the stage, yes, I know,” you can’t help but tease, mostly in an attempt to smooth out that frown.

However, the only thing you truly succeed in doing is forcing another scoff from his throat as he leans away from you.

Oops.

“Har,” you whine now, extending your hands once more to try and tug him back to your side. “Come on, don’t be such a baby. I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m fine. I promise.”

His eyes are focused on the wall adjacent to the bed. Brows pulled together. Jaw clenching as his arms cross in front of his chest.

Like a little child.

And the sight brings a warm feeling to your chest. You scoot a tad closer now, moving onto your knees until you can crawl to his side and wrap your arms around his neck.

He keeps his head turned away.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” you whisper, ghosting your lips over his cheek. His breath hitches. You feel his resolve slowly start to crumble beneath your touch. “I promise I’m all right. And I promise I won’t swim there ever again. Ever, ever.”

“And?” He expects more.

You pause, lashes fluttering as you attempt to recall his previous warnings. “Uh…and I promise to wear skimpier bathing suits?”

His eyes roll. “No. I mean…yeah, but no.”

You sink down further into the mattress as you think. “Um…promise to let you be Ariel and wear the coconut bra?”

His head turns. “Seriously?”

You set the laugh free as you press a kiss to his tensed shoulder. “M’sorry, baby. Okay, what? What else am I missing?”

A beat. His muscles tighten as he glares at the dingy hospital floor beneath his glittery boots.

And you wait, fingers rubbing soft circles into his skin until he sighs, and glances back over his shoulder. “Don’t fucking do dangerous shit when I can’t be there to help you.”

Oh.

Your eyes soften, now understanding his reaction. You’ve had this conversation many times. Perhaps too many, although clearly it didn’t stick very well.

It’s not that he’s upset with your surfing. In fact, he adores it. Every aspect of it. The way your face lights up when you catch the perfect wave. The way you call to him from your board as he waits on the shore. The way you reenact the Baywatch running scene whenever asked.

But there have been times, like tonight, when your tendency to go looking for trouble overlaps with his schedule.

And he’s never felt more helpless than knowing he’s trapped on a stage while you wait for him to save you.

Which, you had argued, wasn’t the case. Because you didn’t need him to save you, but you knew that wasn’t really the point, and had quickly agreed.

And then, apparently, immediately forgot.

“Right,” you murmur, reaching up to stroke your thumbs over his rigid jaw.

“No more being stupid when I’m on stage,” he repeats. Firm. Yet laced with fear.

Your smirk rematerializes. You nod. “No more being stupid when you’re on stage.”

Another pause, his eyes flicking between yours before he sighs and reaches for your hip to tug you closer.

Teeth and tongues collide as he melts into your embrace, nearly forcing you onto his lap as you chuckle.

“Don’t do that again,” he whispers after a moment, the request ushered into your bottom lip before he pulls back to bury his face in your neck. “Shit, please…please don’t do that again. Thought I was gonna fucking die.”

The mood has switched on a dime and your fingers fall to the hair at the nape of his neck as you run your palm down his skin.

“Couldn’t…couldn’t get to you.” His voice is hoarse. Broken. Filled with the guilt of a man carrying the weight of your soul. “Fuck, never been so scared in my life. Thought I was gonna lose you.”

You can feel the burn in the back of your throat as the tears crawl their way up. “I know, Har. M’okay, I promise. Won’t do it again.”

“Good.” A soft kiss to the pulse point below your ear. “Cause I’ll feed you to the shark myself if you do.”

With that, you laugh again, slapping at his arm until he pulls back.

"Were you scared?" A hesitant question. One you're sure he's afraid to know the answer to.

You smile as you run your fingers down his cheek, shaking your head softly. "No. Not really. Maybe for a moment, but I knew I'd be okay. Knew you'd be there for me no matter what happened."

You notice the dark storm behind his eyes at this admission, anticipating the way he's already picturing the worst possible scenario.

"Harry," you warn, offering a stern look. "Don't do that. Fear is nothing more than a tool to help keep you alive. If I hadn't been at least a little afraid of losing you, then I wouldn't have found the strength to swim to shore."

"Shit." An angry hiss, his head attempting to turn away again, but you're quick to keep him focused on you. "Don't fucking tell me shit like that."

"I'm sorry." You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lip, despite your smile. "But it's true. Nothing will ever keep me from you. Not even a big, stupid fish."

He grumbles his misgivings into the gentle kiss but does eventually melt into your touch.

And once he does, and the tense moment has subsided, you let your eyes trail down to his outfit. You’d previously seen photos from Lambert, but now…the real thing. Right in front of your eyes.

Sparkly, pink, and incredibly loud.

“Oh…my gosh.” Your palm flies to your mouth, the right words disappearing into thin air.

On stage, it looks incredible. Perfectly tailored for the show, for the atmosphere, for the crazy antics he and the crowd engage in.

But anywhere else…

“What?” His eyes move down to his chest. “Okay, well, you didn’t see it with the hat. The hat ties the whole thing together.”

Your lips roll into your mouth. “Mhm. Oh, I’m sure.”

“And the boa,” he continues, gesturing toward his neck. “Yeah. Adds some dimension.”

“Yeah.”

“Little spice.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, you’ll see,” he tells you, and your brow quirks up. “Lambi let me borrow it so I could cheer you up while you’re stuck here.”

Well…shit.

“Oh, that’s…that’s so great,” you beam, teeth gritting together as Harry’s smug grin widens.

“Isn’t it? Nurse Harry, here to help.”

“Super.”

His hands move to the mattress, digging into the soft blanket beneath his palms as he leans forward, now incredibly close.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him eye your lips like candy. Nose brushing against your own as you breathe him in, desperate for what he might have in store.

“So…what do you say?” he murmurs, head tilting until you can nearly taste him. “Gonna let me take care of you?”

You smile. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

“Sure thing, Ariel.”

“All right, you know what? I changed my fucking mind, the shark can have you.”

“Harry!”

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles request #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #blurb #request

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adrift-in-thyme · 6 months

Text

Whumptober Day 17: “Leave me alone”

Read it on Ao3

- Fierce Deity & Mask

- Summary: Fierce cares for a wounded Mask

CW for blood and injury

———————————-

Link sits on the outskirts of the battlefield.

Fierce can see him from where he stands, a small, hunched figure silhouetted against a hazy blue sky and the remnant wisps of smoke. He starts toward him at a brisk pace, picking his way around the remaining bodies and rubble. He cannot help but wrinkle his nose at the conglomeration of unpleasant smells.

War god though he may be, he has never truly enjoyed conflict. At times it is necessary. But never is it enjoyable. The destruction it brings makes him ill.

Especially now, as he comes closer to the child and gains a better look at his injuries. He is bleeding. The emerald sleeve of his tunic has turned dark with the gory substance. A gash snakes its way from the very base of his neck down through his shoulder to end at his bicep. Its angry edges are coated in dirt and soot.

There is bruising too, peppering his arms and legs. And when he raises his head, Fierce can see that one of his eyes is swollen shut.

“Little one.”

He squats down, feeling abnormally large next to this tiny Hylian he has come to think of almost as his own child. Link looks up at him and sniffles. He raises a trembling hand, swiping viciously at the tears carving trails through the blood and dirt coating his face.

“Where’s the captain?”

There is anger in his voice, but Fierce disregards it. He has known this little hero for years now. He can tell quite easily when his anger is merely a front.

“He is safe.”

He reaches out toward Link’s injured arm. Link backs away.

“You are badly injured. Allow me to help you.”

Link shakes his head, cap flopping, bangs falling into his face. “Leave me alone. I don’t need your help.” There is a pause, then, “and he doesn’t either.”

Fierce blinks.

Ah, so that is what this is about.

Though the captain had willingly given himself over to the Deity’s strength, Fierce should have expected this to be a struggle. After all, Link does not know the promise he had made to the older hero. And his fear of the mask has not yet vanished.

With good reason, Fierce thinks, bitterly. Every time the hero uses it, his immense power takes its toll. It is a price he wishes he could rid him of.

“He tasked me with protecting you when he could not,” he says, solemnly. “Helping you would be fulfilling my oath to him.”

Link’s head jerks upward. More tears stream down his cheeks.

“You wanna help me? Let him go!” A sob tears through him and he clutches at his arm. Crimson runs down his fingers. “Let my brother go.”

Fierce raises his hands, instinct crying out that he comfort the broken child before him. But when Link curls in on himself further, he stops short of touching the hero. With his strength he could simply scoop him up and carry him away. He holds back, however. He does not wish to force his way unless absolutely necessary. So, they simply hover uselessly in the space between him and Link.

“Allow me to tend to your wounds and get you to safety. Then, I will release the captain.”

Link hiccups, his grip on his arm tightening, and finally, Fierce reaches out. Slowly, he pries the tiny fingers away from the wound. The captain had had bandages in his pouch and though he had been forced to use some for himself, there is still an ample supply left over. He begins winding them around Link’s arm with as much care as his war-calloused hands can manage.

“You’re hurting him.”

He doesn’t pause in his work, but he does look up from it for just long enough to see the broken expression on Link’s face.

“No, I am not. The captain gave himself willingly. As you know, that is the least painful way to utilize my power. He is not fighting. He is at rest.”

Another hiccuped-sob shakes the hero.

“Why? Why’d he put you on?”

Fierce tears off the remaining bandages and ties them tightly. It is not a perfect job, but it will hold for long enough to get him back to camp. They can take proper care of him there.

“Out of necessity. He needed to win this battle and care for the wounded. He could not do so with the strength he currently possessed.”

Link hands curl into fists. “That idiot. I told him never to wear it. I told him it was dangerous. I told him…” His words dissolve into another sob.

Fierce rests a hand on Link’s uninjured shoulder and the hero looks up at him, emotions swirling in his eyes.

“I promise you, little one, I will release him once you are safe. I have no wish to harm the captain…or you.”

He holds his gaze for a moment more, then turns to place the bandages back into the captain’s pouch. When he reaches for Link, the hero doesn’t struggle. And when he scoops him into his arms, he slumps against him with a trembling sigh.

Whether he is simply too weak and tired to fight any longer, or he has decided the Deity’s words are trustworthy, Fierce doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter to him, either way. His responsibility is getting Link to safety.

“The captain knew that you would not approve of his use of the mask, you know,” he says, once Link is securely in his hold and he has started his journey back. Link blinks, slowly, like one of the puppies they saw so often in Termina, exhausted after a day of running, yet still fighting sleep. “But you are precious to him. No sacrifice is too large if it ensures that you are safe.”

Tears well in Link’s eyes once more and he turns his face away.

“Idiot,” he mumbles again.

But there is something in his voice that Fierce cannot identify. Something almost like the feeling of sunshine trying to break through the clouds. It seems, sharing the captain’s sentiments was the right choice.

Humans really are such curious beings, he thinks as he walks back toward camp with the child curled in his arms. They care and yet, see fit to pretend that they do not.

“Fierce?” The voice is small, hesitant.

“Yes, little one?”

“You really are gonna let him out, right?”

Fierce smiles, grimly. So trust is still a ways away, then. No matter. He will repeat his promise however many times is necessary to soothe Link's fears. Someday, perhaps the hero will know that he wishes no harm upon him.

“I give you my word.”

Link sighs. His hand is curled around his tunic sleeve, Fierce notices now. The realization ignites a curious warmth within him.

“‘K,” he whispers and closes his eyes.

#whumptober 2023 #no.17 #‘leave me alone’#legend of zelda #hyrule warriors #linkeduniverse #fic #blood tw #injury tw #trin writes #lu mask #lu fierce deity #fierce dadity #yay I’m caught up #now just to stay caught up XD

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avocado-writing · 11 months

Text

bowser x gn!reader

1.6k words

part 1 of ?

rated: T (for now)

summary: you’re happy with your lot as nanny to the koopalings... until a chance encounter with the king sets your life off in a very different trajectory.

Few people like their jobs, but you’re lucky enough to count yourself among them.

Sure, there were places to work that weren’t as covered in lava. A little less rowdy and loud. But you’ve lived in the Dark Lands for so long they’re home now, and how you couldn’t imagine a day without needing to dodge a spit of errant fire from the ground.

Well, maybe you could. But you know now how to listen out for the telltale crack before an eruption, so you’re much less flammable than you used to be!

Maybe things would have been different if you didn’t get the job so… normally. Several years ago you saw a “help wanted” flyer advertising for a royal nanny, and, with Bowser’s reputation, people weren’t exactly chomping at the bit to apply. But you’d always had a way with kids so decided to give it a shot. This has been back when it was only Ludwig and Morton, and they’d only been young - not the eight terrors nowadays. It wasn’t so much a trial shift as a “try not to let them kill you” challenge, and when they didn’t you were hired immediately by a snivelling little man you’d later come to know as Kamek.

You never grew to like Kamek, exactly, but you loved the Koopalings. Your original duties hadn’t been too taxing. Mostly just some gentle discipline and education, as well as keeping them from maiming each other. They were rowdy kids. But they quickly grew fond of you and you of them, and it wasn’t long before the kids were acting like you’d always been there: a trusted adult who they could rely on to look after them.

Nowadays you can truly say that they’re sweet kids. Boisterous but with a soft side buried beneath - a lot like their father in that way.

Ah, Bowser. You can still remember the first time you met him. All those years ago. You’d been employed for a couple of weeks, and were hard at work cleaning up the playroom when a pitter-pattering of tiny feet let you know someone was approaching. And when Morton entered the room in tears and ran to hug you, instinct kicked in and you held the little tyke close. Ludwig had been going through a phase of teasing him about his star-shaped birthmark and Morton hadn’t been taking it very well. It led to fisticuffs almost certainly and tears more often than not.

“Oh honey, don’t listen to him,” you hummed, rubbing his shell soothingly. From his sniffles you knew you’d hit the nail on the head, “I like your star.”

Morton had pulled back enough to study your face, try and scrutinise it in search of a lie, but when he found you were sincere managed a wobbly smile.

Then Bowser threw the door off of its hinges.

“Morton-?!”

His eyes were wide, confused, a little angry as he took you in. As if trying to work out why his child would be in the arms of a stranger. Then his face softened as he put the pieces together in his mind.

“Uh, new nanny Kamek hired, right?”

“Yes sire,” you replied, a bit dazed from the splintered wood you just had to dodge, and not wanting to untangle from the distressed child to bow so instead choosing to nod deeply. Bowser looked at how Morton clung to you, his little muzzle buried into your clothes for comfort.

“Morton, you okay, little buddy?” he asked, more gently than the rumours about him led you to believe was possible. Morton nodded but stayed in your arms. Bowser let out a sigh.

“Okay, well… good.” He looked up at you. “You uh, keep doing that.”

So you did.

It was strange, seeing such a gentle side to Bowser from the offset. You’d heard he was a fearsome and fierce ruler - and, well, he was - but he also was a devoted father, too. And as more Koopalings came along to pad out the pack you found yourself growing happier and happier with your work. You were paid very handsomely, you were safe in the castle, and the children loved you so much that you were practically part of the family.

And… Bowser. Well, so what if your heart had a funny fluttering feeling inside it when you saw him sit down to have a tea party with his kids? That didn’t have to mean anything. Anyone would feel that way about a strong, handsome king. Besides you were certain he saw you as no more than a friendly face, a trusted confidant. Someone who’d been a rock by his side for years. He didn’t need to worry about his children when you were there to corral them.

You were content with your lot in life.

And maybe things would have stayed that way if you hadn't happened upon Bowser after that fight.

It’s been a normal day. After a rowdy lesson which turned into less violence than you thankfully expected, the kids had headed off to do some kart racing. Now you’re just off to tidy the nursery - though perhaps the children are a little too old to call it that, it’s mostly referred to as the “games room” where their more expensive electronics are kept - before retiring to your quarters for the night. You expect to just have to clean up a few abandoned snack wrappers… so the breath is knocked out of you when you see the trail of blood.

Immediately you assume it’s one of the kids. Nanny instincts kicking in you take off down the corridor, round the corner, and -

See Bowser there. In the games room. He’s digging through one of your cabinets, muttering to himself. In fact he doesn’t even notice you approach him until your foot catches an abandoned controller; it goes skittering across the room and bumps against the wall, making the king jump and spin around to face you. There’s a nasty gash along his arm and he winces when you notice it - you’re not sure if it’s because of the pain or the fact you’ve caught him with your first aid kit in hand, trying to bandage himself up.

“Are you all right, sir?” you ask, quickly gathering your wits. Bowser huffs.

“Yeah, just got beat up is all.”

You frown. You’ve helped raise his children for long enough to know when he’s hiding something.

“It was that plumber again, wasn’t it?”

Another wince, but this time followed by a nod. You hold out your hand and motion towards the kit he’s clutching like a lifeline.

“Here, give that to me. I’ll clean you up.”

You’re using your ‘no-nonsense’ voice and it works a charm. Bowser sighs and complies easily, heading to the nearest beanbag and planting himself down on it. He mutters a little in irritation as the spikes on his shell pierce the fabric and a few beans spill onto the floor.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m used to patching those up for the kids,” you state, kneeling in front of him and opening the first aid box. Bowser watches you in intrigued silence as you clean the wound thoroughly before beginning to bandage it.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

His voice is gentle enough to make you stop what you’re doing and look up. You’re not sure you’ve ever really noticed the colour of his eyes before. They’re a sort of dark red-brown. It’s nice.

“Anything you want, my king.”

“Look, just ‘Bowser’ is fine, okay? We’ve been friends long enough.”

His admission of this surprises you, and sends a warm feeling through you that you don’t have time to dissect.

“Alright… Bowser. Fire away.”

“Do I scare you?”

Carefully you tie off the bandage before sitting back on your haunches to face him.

“Not really.” He seems surprised. “Oh, uh, sorry - do you want to scare me?”

“Well, no, I guess not. Just I’m kinda scary looking, y’know? The spikes and the fire and all that. That doesn’t freak you out?”

To add to this he begins to summon flames in the back of his throat. They dance against his teeth. He’d certainly seem menacing if you didn’t know better.

“Nope, not at all. I’ve looked after most of your children through their terrible twos, being three-nagers, and you would not believe how well equipped I am to deal with fire. If any of the kids even try that with me they get a time out. Don’t make me give you one, too.”

You say that last part as a joke, but don’t miss the way Bowser’s jaw visibly clenches at the idea. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed or… for some other reason. Flustered a little you decide to try and move on.

“There, all done. If you get hurt again just come straight to me, I don’t mind patching you up.”

You go to put the kit back, assuming that will be the end of things.

“Uh, thanks for doing all this. You’re… you’re nice to talk to.”

His voice is small, like he’s telling you a secret. It elicits a genuine smile from you as you turn around to face him. He’s looking at his claws, a sure sign of shyness - you know because Junior does it too.

“You’re nice to talk to too, Bowser.”

The way his face lights up makes your heart begin to race.

Hmm. You might be in trouble here.

lmk if you’d like to be tagged for future parts!

#bowser x reader #bowser x you #bowser reader insert #bowser x y/n #bowser fanfic #fic: the king and the nanny

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decadentworld · 1 year

Text

My headcanons about the boys (Billy, Eddie, Steve, Jonathan)’s sexual orientations and how that comes into play in a relationship with Reader (male reader).

※ This post is only meant for fanfiction purposes.

※ Short version first, longer thoughts after the cut.

※ Work available only on Tumblr and under ArchiveOfOurOwn pseud of the same name (DecadentWorld). Do not repost, edit, or redistribute. Do not use for TikTok videos.

Steve

※ Bisexual with equal preference towards men and women.

Eddie

※ Gay. Sorry, hellcheer enjoyers. I have nothing against the ship. I just can’t see Eddie as anything other than exclusively homosexual.

Jonathan

※ Bi-demisexual with preference towards men.

Billy

※ Gay. I’m sort of ambivalent about him and can sometimes see him as bisexual if written right, but I prefer to think of him as closeted/repressed homosexual.

※ Under the cut are some more extended thoughts.

※ Trigger warnings: Mention of grooming (Karen Wheeler towards Billy Hargrove). Child physical and verbal abuse (Neil Hargrove towards Billy Hargrove, Lonnie Byers towards Jonathan and Will Byers). Mentions of death due to overdosing. Religious trauma.

※ Content and warnings: Homophobia. Internalized homophobia. Mentions of (all of the following unrequited and not acted upon): Steve Harrington/Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers/Argyle.

Steve

※ I picture him as bisexual, but as him having only recently discovered this about himself.

※ I imagine he would be in denial at first.

※ He would try to take ‘refuge’ in sex with girls, which is familiar to him.

※ Which is something that, to him, feels great. Truly.

※ But. There’s always going to be that tiny splotch of curiosity in his head. Like an interrogation sign following his line of thought every time he catches himself staring at a particularly attractive male celebrity in a movie for too long.

※ His bisexual awakening can’t be pinpointed into one man, but three in particular.

※ The most notorious one was Billy. But the first one was, surprisingly, Jonathan.

※ Obviously, in the heat of the fight, there was no room for any other thoughts than to beat Jonathan within an inch of his life.

※ But after all is said and done, after Steve gets his act together and tries to be a better person, he starts having thoughts.

※ Confused thoughts, remorseful thoughts. Thoughts that leave him disgusted with himself because why would he start thinking about that fight as anything other than a necessary reality check for him.

※ Why does he get a different kind of chills when he recalls Jonathan overpowering him? No, not overpowering him. Just… lying on him at all.

※ It was the first time Steve’s ever considered himself anything other than wound up by a physical fight.

※ And Billy.

※ Dear God. Billy.

※ If Jonathan was the inception, Billy was the confirmation.

※ The way he looked, the way he carried himself. Even the douchebag way he treated Steve was so different from anything he’d ever experienced. And he was curious.

※ Only much later could Steve understand there was more to Billy. Only after it is too late does Steve understand Billy’s reasons, Steve’s own fault in Billy acting the way he did at the Byers’ house.

※ Only when it’s too late does Steve start experiencing that feel of wanting to protect, ever since El had vaguely mentioned that Billy had a Papa too. That’s enough for Steve to understand.

※ He feels guilty. Angry. Not at Billy, not for this. At his father. At his environment.

※ But… it isn’t just the need to protect him from his environment? It’s also wanting to hold him? To be close to him?

※ Steve has always had conflicting thoughts about many things, but the idea that he’s always been attracted to Billy Hargrove wreaks havoc in his mind.

※ He can’t do anything now. It’s too late, because Billy’s left Hawkins as soon as he was discharged from the hospital.

※ Steve worries about him now and then, wonders if he even had enough money, if the Camaro was even functional at this point, how he’ll afford housing in (probably) California.

※ He calms himself by thinking the government had a hand in that.

※ And then you arrive.

※ Jonathan was the inception, Billy was the confirmation, and you are the execution.

※ Steve has seldom found people who he considers bigger than life. Billy wasn’t one of them.

※ You are.

※ The way you look like you could snap anyone in half, but still choose to be a nice person, has him immediately hooked.

※ His previous thoughts lead him to the shaky confirmation that yes. This is attraction to men.

※ But how is that possible? He can’t be gay. He likes girls.

※ Robin knocks some sense into him, obviously.

※ “It’s called being bisexual, Stevie. Like Bowie. Are you living under a rock?”

※ Huh.

※ It’s a long, very long way until Steve accepts that he wants to spend time with you as more than friends.

※ Even then, he doesn’t have the same amount of courage to come onto you the way he does with girls.

※ Luckily, he doesn’t have to, since you’re the one to make the first move.

※ The first time you ask him out, he refuses out of panic. And leaves. Running.

※ He shuffles his feet back to you the very next day, with a very dark blush on his face. Says he didn’t know why he panicked.

※ So he asks you to try again.

※ The second time you ask him out, he looks jittery, but agrees.

※ Only on the condition that it’s a private affair.

※ “Obviously,” you tell him. You know just how much his life would be ruined if anyone —if his parents, God forbid— found out about this.

※ And you’re now Steve’s Harrington’s first boyfriend. First everything with a man.

Billy

※ I’m slightly impartial about Billy’s sexual orientation.

※ I can sometimes see him as bisexual, but I’m more leaning onto the theory that he’s a repressed homosexual, so I’ll develop this latter one.

※ Billy is so conflicted with what he feels.

※ And who wouldn’t be in his situation? He has only learnt violence.

※ Never love.

※ Billy strikes me as someone who just does not enjoy sex with women. At all.

※ Everytime he does have sex with women, it’s just part of the mask. He knows that the more women talk about him, about his sexual prowess, the more ears will turn and the more possibilities he will have that he will not be mistaken with a queer.

※ Especially if his father is listening to this gossip.

※ Billy did not have one man in particular as his sexual awakening. There were many.

※ Most of them were in California.

※ Billy was often startstruck with how handsome and bright the surfer boys were.

※ He just didn’t know it was ‘bad’ to be a ‘queer’. There was so much acceptance of ‘queers’ in there.

※ Which is the reason why Neil found out so quickly about his son “being one of them queers” when Billy, so innocently and still full of life, walked down the beach hand in hand with another boy —a new friend, not even a little boyfriend— of his same age.

※ Betty Hargrove could somehow disregard the verbal abuse her own son was getting from Neil. However, she left the second he turned on her. (Sorry, Billy’s mom’s defenders, but a mother who abandons her son with his abuser just does not strike me as a good person at all.)

※ Billy just doesn’t know when his ‘punishment’ for being ‘queer’ will stop, if it ever will:

It starts with Neil bringing Susan and Maxine Mayfield in not even two months after his mom leaves;

it continues with moving them all to Bumfuck, Indiana soon after;

it keeps going day after day, with hit after hit, even when Billy shows himself with a different girl every week.

(Billy knows it’s not all about him being queer anymore.)

※ All of this plays an important role in Billy’s self-deprecation in general, in the way he sees being queer.

※ So his walls keep hardening. On and on. Until he’s unrecognizable from the innocent boy who would carelessly walk down the beach with another boy.

※ This mask he has built for himself, of a living hazard towards other men, a womanizer for the women, is not as sturdy.

※ There are moments when the cracks start to show.

※ Karen Wheeler’s predatory behavior almost has him reverting into a scared boy at times, as much as he’s able to hide it. She’s the reason why he starts being even more disgusted with himself when he has to keep this charade of being a ladies’ man.

※ There are, however, other moments when these cracks in the mask feel like freedom, a prisoner catching sunrays from between the bars, but it’s a dangerous kind of freedom.

※ Those moments happen whenever Steve Harrington is nearby.

※ Billy’s not sure who starts it, but sparks fly off the first time they interact.

※ Except. Not in the way he’d like.

※ He knows he’s not a pleasant person to be around most of the time, sure, but Billy could swear he did his best to not scare off the guy.

※ Now that’s all he can do. It seems like the only way he can interact with Steve normally is by pulling at his metaphorical pigtails.

※ Even this is more than he could have asked for. An escape.

※ But then, the betrayal. Not that Steve owed him anything, or that he was obviously anyone in Steve’s radar, but finding his little (step) sister in this random house, under this guy’s ‘supervision’ feels like betrayal all the same. How dare he lie to Billy?

※ Everything is fuzzy after this. Hate, betrayal, terror, acceptance, and pure, unadulterated pain is all he can feel. Being used like a puppet, and torn open and sewn back together will do that to you.

※ The light at the end of the tunnel exists, but the train has to hit him first.

※ Neil finally disowns him and ditches Hawkins. Billy figures his sperm donor jumped at the first chance as soon as he learnt Billy was critical, and he’s not surprised. So Billy’s virtually homeless. At the very least, the government paid off his hospital bills and gave him a hefty sum for his involvement, so he’s going to be alright for his hospital stay.

※ (Susan visits him at the hospital exactly one time and unenthusiastically offers him to stay at their new trailer. Billy refuses. She doesn’t visit him anymore. Billy knows it was just a courtesy.)

※ No one visits him.

※ No one, except you.

※ Word runs fast in Hawkins, and as soon as you hear —from your workmate, who’s heard from his cousin, who’s heard from her father, who works with Susan Hargrove Mayfield— about Billy’s situation, you can’t do anything else but go see him.

※ Billy lets the unexpected visitor (you) enter his hospital room, and you don’t fault him for not immediately recognizing you. You shared many classes in high school, but you never approached him because you knew (or thought you knew) how much he saw other men as nothing more than competition.

※ The panorama changes now. No words need to be said for you to understand that there’s more than meets the eye.

※ “I know you.” Billy surprises you, and you can’t be anything else than elated that he does.

※ The fact that you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on him for ages has a lot to do with this.

※ But, of course, that’s not why you’re here. You store these feelings away and simply make him company.

※ You’re his only visitor. Billy thinks it’s going to be a one-off, but he’s —pleasantly— surprised to know that’s not the case.

※ Billy heals with you at his side. His hospital room was one breath away from becoming a mausoleum, but instead, with you in it, it becomes his sanctuary.

※ He doesn’t say this. Tries not to show it.

※ But you think you know what’s up. Even then, neither of you says anything about the growing tension, though it’s not a bad kind of tension. On the contrary. Because you know you’re only a few steps away from full-on loving him, but you can’t do that to him. Can’t take advantage of him like that, and you know his feelings are probably only that of a vulnerable person towards their caregiver.

※ The closer he’s ready for discharge, the more nervous he becomes, because he’s still virtually homeless. He shouldn’t be; you’re going to offer him to stay at yours for as long as he needs. Obviously.

※ Though, as you say this, you can’t help falling face-first in love with him. Because the way he breaks down, like you just gave him a piece of heaven, tells you he hasn’t had a single good thing in his life for a long time. Which is when you start turning nervous too, because this is simply too much power held over him.

※ Billy doesn’t think that. He just falls in love with you, at the same time you do.

※ Navigating life together without actually being together is hard. A couple months into this arrangement it’s very clear to you that what he’s clearly feeling is not simple attachment to a caregiver figure.

※ So you take a chance and make a move. And he responds in enthusiastic kind.

※ You teach him how to accept himself. You hold his hand through the storm. You teach him how to make amends; this last one is important to him, because, “No one’s ever said sorry to me for shit, so how am I s’posed to know how to apologize?”

※ And through you, his relationship with Max improves. Lucas offers an olive branch. The kids and even Steve start warming up to him, seeing how much he’s changed, now that he’s in a safe place and has started to heal.

Eddie

※ Eddie strikes me as the gayest unconfirmed gay to ever gay.

※ Seriously. Have you seen the guy? (Again, nothing against hellcheer.)

※ The bandana on his back pocket should be enough evidence. (The fact that it’s on the wrong side doesn’t mean anything. Shut up.)

※ Eddie’s known about himself for too long.

※ Long enough that his parents sort of did, too. If it hadn’t been for his mom’s OD and his dad’s GTA, he’s pretty sure he still wouldn’t have lasted three more months in that house.

※ Wayne is the biggest ally ever. As soon as he knew this little thirteen year-old boy was going to go into the system, he dropped everything and swooped in to take care of him.

※ Wayne clocks him from a mile away.

※ Eddie doesn’t say anything at first, but he knows Wayne knows, somehow.

※ And the fact that neither of them aren’t saying anything about it fills him with anxiety.

※ Eddie’s always had a negative vision of himself being queer, due to dear ol’ Randy and Bonnie Munson —ironically— giving him a Christian upbringing, but the more time that passes, the more he hates himself. Hates the idea of Hell and is terrified at the same time.

※ These thoughts lead him to closing himself off for a long time, before Wayne decides the elephant in the room is too big to ignore and simply says:

※ “Kid, you’re not gonna go to Hell.”

※ It’s as if Eddie deflates when he hears that.

※ It’s a slow process, full of ups and downs, but eventually, Wayne convinces him that there’s nothing wrong with being queer, that he’s not abnormal.

※ Eddie vaguely wonders why Wayne and Randy are so different, being that they both had the same upbringing.

※ Maybe Wayne’s a little bit gay, too.

※ So Eddie grows up with a supportive figure who allows him to be himself, dress how he wants, grow his hair, listen to whatever he wants without side-eyeing him, without implying he’s going to Hell because his music sounds ‘loud’ or ‘demonic’.

※ Eddie’s ways of expressing himself are so genuine it’s not a surprise they end up pissing off some less accepting people.

※ The first few times, Eddie reverts back into conforming, trying to not take up too much space in the room.

※ As time goes on, however, he understands that this’ll follow him on every step he takes, so he figures it’s not worth it. He is unashamedly himself.

※ He never comes out publicly, but the rumors that he’s queer will always be there.

※ One thing that Eddie can just not stand, is people calling him ‘Freak’.

※ Sure, he is unashamedly himself, but he still has his limits. He very much prefers when people call him ‘gay’, because at least that’s true.

※ It’s a long time until he closes in on himself again, and that moment arrives the first time he and Steve interact. Or, rather, Steve makes himself known.

※ His asshole friends, those Tommy and Carol who follow the King like his shadows, make life impossible for some seconds at a time every time they see him.

※ And Steve watches. Calls him “queer” and leaves after, every time.

※ Eddie is so ashamed to find out that, among that resentment he feels, there’s also yearning.

※ But Eddie won’t be so easily swayed by this, so he ups the ante. Is even more boisterous, makes himself a dangerous persona, but never falls into violent territory. He won’t stoop as low as his bullies.

※ Time passes and things change a lot in Hawkins. He notices a new family moving into the trailer park. He notices they were only two people at first in the trailer, but when the third one arrives after some months, his interest is piqued.

※ He knows this guy. Billy Hargrove. Eddie’s never approached him, lest he bear the brunt of his usual bad moods. He would’ve probably clocked Eddie as well, called him queer, knock him out a couple times for good measure.

※ At least, that’s what Eddie thinks high-school Billy would have done.

※ The Billy Hargrove he sees now looks like a shell of his former self.

※ Eddie yearns again. He so badly wants to be by this man’s side.

※ Unfortunately, not much time passes before he learns Billy Hargrove has left Hawkins. He doesn’t blame him.

※ Eddie finds his clique. Many years pass and he’s still in high school, and the only reason he tolerates it is because he knows he’ll have people to look forward to: his band and his little friends.

※ Then, the long chain of events happen in just the span of a few days, and his world is turned Upside Down.

※ He will always cry at the mention of Chrissy’s name. They could have been the best of friends, and he would’ve always given her a shoulder to cry on.

※ He still doesn’t know how or why he’s still alive. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe Hell was real, and he had to go through it, just as if he were made to face the divine tribulations.

※ That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that he’s now apparently given the access to Heaven with everything he’s had to go through. His charges are cleared, and even though some people are still in denial of this, no one dares to say otherwise.

※ And this is the part where he thinks he’s earnt Heaven. Because as he goes with his uncle to volunteer at the gym, he sees you, an absolute specimen of a man that almost makes him weak in the knees, helping prepare some meals.

※ Wayne almost laughs at how obvious Eddie’s being. “Why don’t you go make some sandwiches, kid? I’ll be right over here.” And subtly pushes him towards you, making him splutter and making you look up at the noise.

※ Eddie watches, almost besotted, as you introduce yourself to him. He blushes when he realizes he should answer something.

※ That’s not a problem to you. You’ve already started calling him ‘angel’ in your mind.

※ Time passes and Eddie’s falling more and more. But his earlier internalized thoughts are making the rounds again. He thinks you’ll only ever see him as a friend, and God forbid he ever shows himself as he is to you. He’ll totally lose you.

※ Silly boy. You’ve known he’s queer the entire time, only you’ve waited until you’re sure he’s feeling something similar to what you’re feeling to make a move.

※ And, oh, boy. The way he reacts has you halfway in love. He all but climbs you like an excited puppy. And the way he kisses you lets you know it’s his first one too, and isn’t that a thought.

Jonathan

※ Jonathan has known he’s a bit queer all his life.

※ He didn’t have a specific man as his sexual awakening. He’s just sort of known all along.

※ Obviously, living with this knowledge under Lonnie’s yoke is not easy.

※ For some unfortunate reason, it’s Will who bears the brunt of their father’s verbal lashings.

※ And Jonathan can’t stand it. He wants to be there for his brother, but he doesn’t know how he can possibly show his support as long as they live in this house.

※ Luckily, as soon as they’re all out, they can start healing. Even then, the scars of their upbringing are too big to ignore.

※ Jonathan keeps his attraction to men to himself throughout life.

※ The fact that he’s an outcast at school wears him down even more.

※ Let’s not even talk about the time Will’s gone. He’s a mess.

※ One of the hardest lessons in life for Jonathan is that everything that has to turn out wrong, turns out wrong in the end. Steve Harrington outing him as a ‘creep’ and breaking his camera is part of that lesson.

※ There’s something about Steve that has Jonathan’s thoughts going haywire. He hates the guy, but… there’s something else there, too. Jonathan has to put this foreboding feeling aside for the time being, seeing the following events that play out.

※ One of the most notorious events is the brutal fight he has with Steve.

※ The guy completely deserves it! Jonathan is firm in this belief.

※ But when Steve tries to improve himself, he has those same initial thoughts.

※ Why is he turning that fight over in his head so much?

※ Something must be wrong with him, clearly.

※ Jonathan loves Nancy. He does. At least at first. She’s his first in everything, and they have an understanding.

※ As more time passes, though, it’s clear that both of them have strayed away from each other. It hurts that she doesn’t understand his point of view, but he concedes that it’s clear he, in turn, doesn’t understand her point of view.

※ Their break-up is nothing big. It’s very obvious that it’s been a long time coming. He’s just glad they both reached that same conclusion at the same time, else they be caught in a future loveless marriage.

※ Especially when he tells her that he won’t follow her to Emerson.

※ Jonathan is very sure that he felt love for her. Attraction, even. But as he briefly heals from this same separation, he starts giving thought to previous happenings in his life.

※ The fight with Steve being the most prominent one.

※ Why is he still thinking of that?

※ Maybe it was the fact that it was the first time he got all close and personal with another male.

※ Even if it was in a fist-fight kind of context.

※ But he thinks of other instances apart from that one. All of them revolving around Steve.

※ The Halloween party at Tina’s. How… surprisingly handsome he found him that time.

※ Steve breaking his camera. The mortification, but, underneath that… the little thrill he got at seeing Steve so collected, so authoritative. Trying to put him in his place.

※ Yeah. There’s something very fucked up in Jonathan’s head.

※ Steve trying to make things right. This one, he thinks makes more sense. A subdued Steve was almost like a relief to him. Meant he wouldn’t be harassed as much.

※ It also meant he would also try to be more amicable to Jonathan.

※ Jonathan finds himself partial to these thoughts. But he can’t think of Steve like this anymore. Or, rather, should have never thought of Steve like this. He considers Steve sort of an awkward friend, and he’s too afraid to break that fine ice they’re both constantly stepping on.

※ So, with all this, it’s not really a surprise to Jonathan when he starts having thoughts about another one of his male friends, but it makes him feel guilty all the same.

※ Argyle is so different to Steve. He’s funny, effortlessly charming in a way that’s so contrasting to Steve, and considerate. Not to mention he sells Jonathan the best weed in miles around.

※ Plus, he’s tall. So tall.

※ Jonathan is slowly getting to two conclusions at the same time:

1. He has a type. That type is tall and bigger than him.

and

2. He’s finding out he likes men a lot more than women.

※ These two conclusions go hand in hand together.

※ The guilt swirls in lazy strokes on his chest. This feels so similar to Steve. He thinks he’s doing something very wrong by simply thinking of a male friend as something more.

※ After all, childhood scars are the hardest to heal.

※ He tries to withdraw, just a little bit, just until Argyle asks if he’s okay, if he’s still sad because he’s thinking of Nancy.

※ Yeah. Sure.

※ It isn’t until the new semester starts and he gets paired up with you for a project that the lid on his feelings starts weakening its hold.

※ Oh, he’s so fucked. The first time he sees you, he thinks: he’s so my type. Why do I have to go through this, again?

※ You’re easy-going, attuned to him, helpful.

※ And you’re tall. A lot taller than him. He almost has to strain his neck to look up at you.

※ He doesn’t know how that looks to you.

※ Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, due to the conflicting thoughts in his head, you’ve already starting thinking that he’s so small, so cute. He has to lift his head to look at you.

※ This college project drags on like molasses, except Jonathan finds it’s not the usual, not because it’s boring, because it should be something more challenging for his current level.

※ No. It’s because he and you have to actually gather at either of your houses.

※ Have to work next to each other. Share the same space. Try not to break due to the tangible tension you’re both aware of.

※ You’re very sure of what’s going on. A simple conversation that starts with your nonchalant: “Oh, did you know I’m into men?”, his spluttering reaction and subsequent shy answer of: “I… kinda am, too. That’s crazy,” eventually, but rapidly enough evolves into tentatively taking his hand, seeing the openness between the bashfulness and making a move.

※ His first time kissing a man makes him feel like he’s a whole different person.

※ A person he was always meant to be.

※ Small dates with you consolidate the idea that yeah, he’s a lot more into men.

#stranger things x male reader #eddie munson x male reader #billy hargrove x male reader #steve harrington x male reader #jonathan byers x male reader #headcanons

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pitconfirmbutton · 1 year

Text

petals and peaches (II) | lance stroll

lance stroll x reader

wc: 7261 words

warnings: controlling relationship (not an f1 driver, oc), physical abuse, emotional abuse, eating disorder/not eating, smoking, SMUT, estie being the comedic relief

wildflowers and fruits (part i)

petals and peaches (part ii)

summer roses and winter strawberries (part iii)

carnations and clementines (part iv)

____________________________________________________

He couldn’t breathe. In less than 5 hours, Lance had gone from hopeful to hopeless. He had left the venue, storming off to the lift with Mick and Charles, before a taxi ride in silence back to the hotel. His friends were trying to comfort him despite their own shock and sadness regarding your engagement. Pierre had even noticed a tear escape from Lando’s eye, his face mirroring that of a young child finding out about their parent’s divorce, confusion, anger and sadness all present as he questioned everything he had thought to be true in the world.

Lance had gone straight to his hotel room, ignoring his father’s calls, shoving his clothing and toiletries into his suitcase, not bothering to fold them. As he zipped it up, squashing it closed with his arm, his phone began to ring again. He went to hang up for a fifth time, not wanting to talk to his father, angry at him for the hand he had to play in this, starting the butterfly effect that lead to you being trapped with Harry. Lance could live with you not choosing him, it would hurt and he knew he would never move on, but he would survive. But you with Harry, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to make it through this, knowing you were in trouble.

Looking down at his phone, he was met with a picture of his sister, holding tightly to Daisy in her arms, pulling a funny face, Chloe’s name across the top of the screen.

“Hey, Chlo” Lance muttered. He assumed she had heard from someone what had happened, why else would she be calling him when she knew it was 3 am in Singapore?

“Hey Lance, I heard what happened. I am so sorry.” Chloe was the first person Lance had ever told about his infatuation towards you, sitting with his sister in an Italian restaurant after the third round of the F4 season, describing the kind-hearted, speed demon that was his teammate.

“What am I going to do, Chloe? I have nothing left, I truly lost my chance.” Lance had finally let himself utter his new reality, one where you never ended up as his, not his best friend, not his partner, not his wife one day.

“I know you don’t want to talk to Dad, I understand but he has a jet for you to go wherever you want before Suzuka. I would take it if I were you, escape and clear your head for a bit.” Chloe hoped her brother would take it and allow himself a tiny part of the joy he fully deserved.

“Ok. I’m coming home, Chlo. I miss you and Monaco right now. I need a Daisy hug too I think.” The siblings both chuckled at that, Lance allowing himself to smile, even just for a second.

“She is here actually, let me FaceTime you.” With that Lance’s screen changed, and a bright, smiling face with tiny little teeth appeared before him. “Say hi Uncle Lancey.” Chloe cooed to her daughter, as she gurgled and babbled as she reached for the screen showing Lance’s face.

“Cute little suit there Daisy, a good number too.” His niece in an Aston Martin green onesie with a big ‘18’ on the front. “She watched your whole race, Scotty did too. He is off training now though. But we are all so proud of you.”

“I am going to head to the airport, I will see you all soon.” Lance waved goodbye, putting on his best happy disguise for the little girl and hanging up.

He sighed as he stood from the bed, looking over the notifications he received throughout the duration of the call before his eyes fell on an important-looking email.

Lance swiped more tears from his eyes, turned his phone off, threw on his sweater, pulled the hood over his head and headed for the airport, avoiding the paparazzi that were lurking around, attempting to see the newly engaged couple.

---

“You were such a good girl for me tonight, it looks like you finally learnt how to behave, hmmm?” Harry was towering over you as you lay on the bed beneath him, dress and heels still on from the event prior. Your makeup, however, had travelled down your face, staining as it went, washed by your tears. “You really didn’t think this was ending, did you? Me being engaged to the only female Formula 1 driver is the best business move I ever made. You are going to make me rich, sweetheart.” He whispered in your ear, kissing your cheek with force. Maybe it was the fact that you had been given a few too many celebratory glasses of champagne or because at that moment you were at rock bottom, but you bit back. “I thought you were already rich, isn’t that the point of a sponsor, you give me money, not the other way around?” You raised your eyebrow at him, feeling slightly more powerful than you had in a while before a sharp sting spread across your cheek.

“Don’t you fucking dare! Remember what happens when you get too cocky? You don’t want little Lance losing his-” Both of your heads jerked towards the hotel door, a knock echoing through the suite. “Clean your face up, I will answer it” With that Harry pulled himself off you and headed to the door, not bothering to fix his hair or tie, hoping the person knocking might get the hint and leave.

“Ah! Sebastian, Mrs Vettel! What a pleasant surprise!” Harry was a bit awe-struck standing in front of a 4-time world champion and F1 legend. “We just thought we would come around to celebrate our little one’s engagement,” Hanna said cheerily, however, her hand trembled within her husband’s grasp, fear soaking over them at the plan they had come up with. “She is like a daughter to me so it felt only right that I come and size up her partner, you know?” Seb clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling at the threat he had disguised as a joke. “I mean, it’s not just me, she has about 7 world champions that would make sure you never hurt her, HAHAHAHA!” Seb’s laugh was over the top and he was using all his energy to relax his jaw and look jovial. Harry chuckled back, trying his best not to show how the words rattled him.

“There she is!” Hanna said loudly, pulling you into a hug, hands clutching to you tighter than they ever had before. “Hey, sweetheart!” It was Seb’s turn to pull you into his arms and it took everything in both of you not to burst into tears again. “What are you guys doing here?” You asked, panic and happiness radiating through you. “Well, we have a little present for you, as part of your engagement.” Seb looked at Hanna. “I have planned a little girl's trip to Nice for us. I had a look and the wedding dress shops there are phenomenal and I know you always said you wanted me to be there when you got your dress.” You quirked your eyebrow slightly. You’d never once said that, in fact, the idea of wedding dress shopping stressed you out, but you knew what was happening. Your heart fluttered at the fact that they hadn’t given up on you, that they knew you didn’t want this.

“Oh my goodness, Hanna, you didn’t need to do that! I am so excited! How amazing is that, Harry?” You turned to him, the presence of the Vettels once again filling you with more confidence. “Oh, but that means I wouldn’t be with you. I don’t know if I could do that.” Harry half-joked, trying to signal with his eyes that he was unhappy with it. “Nonsense Harry, you and Peaches will have your whole lives to be together. Take it from a married man, you will regret not taking the peace and quiet while you can.” Seb chuckled in order to stop himself from throwing up, the misogynistic joke tasting like cough syrup in his throat, but he knew his target audience well. “Ok, but only for a few days,” Harry said, sighing.

“We’ll wait here, Blossom, go and grab your luggage, I even got us a private jet,” Seb explained, resting against the doorframe, allowing him to see into the bedroom where your bags would be. You quickly threw everything in, watching as Harry silently stalked you around the room, trying to find an area where Seb couldn’t see him but it was no luck. “I will see you later, honey!” You gave Harry a kiss on the cheek while Seb grabbed your bags and off you went, the Vettels flanking you as you walked down the hallway.

---

You had passed out from exhaustion as soon as you got on the plane, your body realising that you were finally safe and making up for the 3 months of lost sleep. When you awoke, a warm glow was coming through a curtain and your body was wrapped in a fluffy duvet. You shot up, not knowing where you were, your survival instinct kicking in. You froze, listening as you heard voices softly chatting in another room. You hopped out of the bed, making your way to the mirror, your make-up was off, no doubt thanks to Hanna and you had been put into your pyjamas, a pair of long pink polka dot pants and an old Schumacher championship shirt. Your eye was looking rather purple but you didn’t care right now.

As you opened the bedroom door, following the voices, you were greeted with a pleasant surprise. Walking into the living area you were met with your loved ones. Seb and Hanna were in the kitchen, cutting up some cheese and placing crackers on a board. Mick was attempting to help but was being shooed away by the Vettels who were telling him to relax. Charles and Pierre were sitting on the couch playing Xbox, trying to smack-talk each other. Esteban and Lando were watching, standing behind the couch, telling the boys to ‘go to that one’, ‘shoot it, shoot it!’. You looked over to the balcony, the door was open, letting the beige linen curtain dance in the wind. As it moved you could see Lance, leaning against the railing, staring out at what you recognised as the Yacht Club of Monaco. Well, this wasn’t Nice.

“This is definitely not Nice, Hanna.” Everyone in the room turned to you, smiles dropping as they took in the purple spot around your left eye. “Good morning!” Seb wrapped his arms around you, holding you longer than he ever had. “How are you feeling?” He asked, holding you at arm’s length, looking you over, trying to pay as little attention as possible to the bruises forming on your skin. “I feel the best I have in a long time, thank you.” You smiled warmly, looking up at him.

“You slept for like, 18 hours straight, ma marguerite,” Charles said, pulling you from Seb into a hug. You could feel his body relax as he held you and you realised how worried your friends were for you. “I think we all should talk,” you said. “Can I make us all some tea first though?” you asked, knowing that the favour wouldn’t make up for the shit show that was abandoning them all but nevertheless felt like a start.

After everyone had flowed into the dining room, finding a seat at the long table, you got to work putting the kettle to boil. As you moved around, grabbing tea bags and sugar, you heard footsteps. Spinning around, you were face to face with Lance who was leaning on the kitchen counter. “I like your shirt,” he said, pointing and chuckling. You looked down at it while attempting to smooth the creases. “Thanks, me too” you chuckled back. All you could do was stare at him, he was wearing a pair of grey tracksuit pants and a white t-shirt and with the glow of the Monaco sunshine behind him, he looked like an angel. He was an angel, a guardian angel that you just might let save you this time around.

“Would you like to, um, maybe have dinner with me tonight? Like just the two of us?” Lance scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the countertop. You felt your facial muscles instinctively lift. “I would love that but considering Harry doesn’t know I am in Monaco I don’t think getting spotted by the fans or the media is the best idea”. You genuinely wanted to say yes, sit across from him under candlelight while you both quietly whispered imaginary stories about passers-by to each other, just like you used to, his hand perched on your knee, rubbing calm circles with his thumb.

“Well you’re in luck, my mother always insisted I knew how to cook homemade pasta in case I ever needed to impress a pretty girl and it seems today is the day.” It was hard for you to ignore the way your cheeks heated, a feeling you had missed. “You have yourself a deal, 18” and with that, you extended your hand across the counter to shake his jokingly.

---

“Je m'en fous, Charles ! Je vais le tuer. Couper la conduite de frein de sa voiture ou tenir sa tête sous l'eau de cette fontaine stupide et odieuse chez lui.” (I don't care, Charles! I am going to kill him. Cut the brake line on his car or hold his head under the water of that stupid, obnoxious fountain at his house.) Pierre had stood from his seat at the table, having enough of Charles trying to calm him down. “Ich kann das nicht glauben, Hanna.” (I cannot believe this, Hanna) Seb was at a loss, feeling as if he might throw up any moment.

“Guys! English, please. I can’t understand you at all.” You were shaking from your explanation. You knew telling them would hurt more than living the last 3 months of your life. While everyone continued to discuss and process the revelation, you felt a hand appear on your knee, a soft squeeze and circles being traced upon your pyjama pants. You looked up to see Lance, who was looking across the table at Mick and discussing a plan of action.

A sense of nostalgia flooded over you and at that moment you felt like you were all younger again, back in the junior categories, sitting around a large table on race weekends, the novelty of travelling not yet lost on you all as you played card games, drank soda and stayed up later than you should after races, every weekend feeling much like a sleepover. It felt nostalgic because you knew that you had looked at Lance like this at age 14 and here you were, 10 years later, still looking at him with the same sense of admiration and love. Unbeknownst to you, Seb and Hanna had stopped to watch, allowing the view of young love to wash away their sadness for a second. No one in the room, well except for Mick and Esteban who had sworn to secrecy, knew still about your relationship that was ripped away from you. But the Vettels knew young love, they had also met at 14 and recognised the glances from themselves years prior.

“I don’t know if I am even allowed to speak about this,” Lance started, the rest of the room dropping silent and turning to him, subconsciously understanding the importance of his words. “My father mentioned that something was happening behind closed doors in regard to Harry. I don’t have any more details than that but it sounded bad for him. Maybe we should wait and see what he says. Can you wait? Will you be alright?” Lance shifted his gaze from the group to look down at you sitting next to him.

You were terrified, and the idea of having to go back to Harry scared you but the look in Lance’s eyes told you that he wasn’t letting you get away so easily this time. “As long as you all save me before October 15, I can wait.” You smiled at Lance before extending that smile to everyone. “Did you have any control over the guest list?” Esteban muttered, again focusing on a rather unnecessary topic. You shook your head, thinking back to how he selected who should be there. The only reason Lance got an invite was because of the sponsorship. “Ok good. Because I didn’t even get invited.” You laughed, a full-bellied, closed-eyes laugh at his response. You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t that funny but it felt good to be around everyone and the laughter felt like sunshine surrounding you.

You all chatted for a while before people started to excuse themselves, promising to be back tomorrow around lunch. It was Mick, Lance and yourself who were left before Mick was standing up and hugged you goodbye. “Is this your place?” You were surprised, you had assumed it was a hotel or the Vettels. You knew it wasn’t Scotty and Chloe’s place where you and Lance usually stayed when you visited Monaco. He finally got his apartment here, it made you smile.

“Penne Alla Vodka still your favourite?” He glanced at you from the pantry. Your coy smile returned again knowing that he remembered your favourite pasta. He smiled back and nodded, taking your smile as an answer. “Can I help with anything?” You felt a bit useless just sitting at the kitchen counter watching him cook for you.

“Actually yes you can. I have a little wine cellar cupboard down the hallway, can you go and grab one you like for me, please?” Lance smirked at you, knowing that the task he gave you wasn’t at all strenuous or helpful in making the pasta. You sighed and shook your head before standing up and walking down a hallway you hadn’t seen until now.

As you left the kitchen, you saw that the hallway was lined with photo frames. As you walked, you paid close attention to them.

Lance sitting on the tyre of his Williams car before his first season in Formula 1.

Lance winning his first race in karting, his Tony Kart suit swamping him.

Scotty, Chloe, Lawrence, Claire-Anne and Lance together at his sister’s wedding.

Yourself and Lance at your first FIA gala, leaning into each other at the table, toothy grins on your faces and silly peace signs being shown.

Lance, Esteban, Mick, Callum, Marcus and yourself sitting around a table playing Uno at a Ferrari Driver Academy training camp.

Little Daisy, his niece and your god-daughter, falling asleep in his arms the first time he met her, you sitting on the back of the couch, looking at them in awe.

You stopped at a picture right before the wine cellar, the butterflies erupting inside you. It was a picture of mostly the Canadian snowscape, pine trees and snowy mountains but in the corner, you were decked out in a snow jacket, boots, beanie and gloves. It took you a moment to place it but you remembered that trip for your 17th birthday. Lance had taken you to Canada and you had stayed in a quaint cabin. You had both drunk way too much wine and ended up in Lance’s bed together, confessions of love spilling out of your lips as you shared your first time with each other. It ended in both of you agreeing that it would be too complicated to date a fellow driver and so you both squished your feelings down low, dating other people. The picture held a weird sense of youthful excitement and a sense of sadness at what could have been if you had decided to get together then.

“Etno Rossa?” You questioned, holding up the bottle to Lance who was stirring the pasta on the stove. “God you are good. Perfect!” He took the bottle, opened it and poured a rather large glass for each of you. You weren’t going to complain, in fact, you thought you both deserved it.

You had sat at the table, eating pasta and drinking wine. Lance was scared that things might feel weird or different, but they didn’t and he was thankful. Thankful that you hadn’t become a person he didn’t recognise. Thankful that Harry hadn’t taken away everything that was pure and good in your heart and soul. “I am going to get us another bottle” Lance had said, quickly getting up and almost sprinting down the hall, not wanting to be away from you for a second longer. He came running back, sliding along the wood floors, bottle in hand with a focused look on his face, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he drifted along. You laughed and clapped for him, impressed that he stuck his landing as he poured some more for you.

After 2 bottles of wine between you, you were both ready for bed. “Do you mind if I have a shower?” Lance gulped, trying to keep the image out of his head out of respect. “Of course, Petal. It is this door here, there are towels in there. If you need anything though, this is my room here” he said, pointing down the main hallway to the left. “Thank you so much, goodnight Lance.” You propped yourself on your tippy toes and wrapped your arms around his neck for a hug. He held you back and you knew neither of you wanted to move. You pulled away first, muttering a goodnight before heading into the bathroom.

As the warm water fell over your face, you thought about Lance. You thought about how you had never gotten the chance to say sorry for breaking up with him via a letter in his driver’s room. An envelope addressed to him with a kiss of your red lipstick on it, containing your short letter of how you had to leave him, confessing that he was too good for you and he would be better off without you. You hadn’t lied but you knew he was heartbroken.

Drying yourself off, you put on a fresh pair of pyjamas you had found in your bag while hyping yourself up to apologise. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to say sorry to him, apologise a million times for the way he got roped into all this but apologising meant that he had the chance to say it was for the best or that he didn’t want you again. It felt all too real now.

Lance jumped out of bed at the knock on his door, his heart racing that you might not be ok. Seb had warned him that you may experience nightmares or have trouble sleeping, a common side-effect of the situation you'd been placed in.

“Are you alright?” he said as soon as the door flung open, making you jump slightly in place. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He mentally smacked himself. “Yeah, I uh, I actually just wanted to apologise to you, Lance.” Your eyes met the floor, unable to look at him. “No, that's ok, you don’t have to.”

“No, but I do. I left you with a note that didn’t even explain what was going on and then you had to see me turn up to the next race with Harry of all people by my side. You were never once rude to me, you defended me still to the media and you looked out for me. That was so sweet of you and I owe you an apology. I am so sorry Lance. I didn’t want to do it. I never did.” He studied your face, an apologetic smile on his.

“Can I ask you something?” He was nervous again. “Of course, anything.”

“Why did you do it? I mean obviously, he is a controlling…” He let out a sigh to calm himself. “He is an awful person but why did you decide to date him, why didn’t you try and tell someone? I am not blaming you, I never could, but I just need to know.” He grabbed your hands in his to hold them gently. “He threatened that you’d lose your seat, he said he has control over the team lineup next year and he knew that you were my biggest weakness. I had to protect you.” Your voice cracked at the end and your hands broke from his to wipe at your eyes quickly.

When you looked back up at him, he was smiling softly, studying your face. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again. Before you both could think about it, his hands were on your waist, pulling you into his chest and your arms were wrapped around his neck, your lips meeting in the middle.

Despite the haste to connect to each other, the kiss was slow and passionate, Lance bringing a hand up to hold your jaw softly. You thought for a second about the fact that you had a fiance and that he wasn’t the man you were kissing right now but you felt no guilt. The man you were kissing right at this moment was who you had always loved and who you wanted to marry one day instead.

You both broke apart with a gasp, filling your lungs with the oxygen they had been missing, resting your foreheads together. Lance chuckled to himself, unable to believe that he had you in his arms again. “God, I have missed you,” he said softly into your ear as he kissed your neck softly over and over again. “Lance, I have thought about this every day, dreaming that I would get to do this again.”

You let your head fall back, exposing more of your neck to him, a soft moan escaping from your lips as he found the spot he knew you liked. Lance groaned back, hearing the sweet sound he was able to elicit from you. “Jump” was all he said and you did just that. He carried you over to his bed, laying you down gently before almost taking a step back to take you in.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” You grabbed his hand pulling him back onto you, his hands catching him on either side of your head as he lay over you, careful to put no wait on your healing body.

Your lips locked again but this time you both weren’t taking it slow. Lance softly bit down on your lip, a moan parting your lips for his tongue. You held onto his cheeks, wanting to feel as much of him at once.

His kisses trailed down your face to your neck. Lance had always been happy to pepper your skin in soft love bites but you could sense his concern now, not wishing to purple anymore of your skin, being gentle with you.

Your hands found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, quickly breaking your kiss before throwing it to the side. It was your turn to be on top, you thought, quickly flipping you both over so that you were straddling him now.

“I forget how strong you are sometimes.” Lance let his hands rest on your hips as you ducked down to repay the favour, kissing and sucking the skin along his neck before dipping to run kisses down his sternum and abs. You could feel the muscle contract under you as you went and you felt your core heat at the feeling. You sat up again and looked at Lance, his breath heavy. His hands danced at your shirt hem, silently asking permission. You nodded.

“My god, you are so fucking gorgeous.” His hands travelled up and down your sides and he found himself mesmerized by you, the moonlight making you glow. “Can I… can I touch you, ma fleur? I want to make you feel good.” “Please, please touch me, Lance.” It had been three months since you had been pleasured and while Harry fucked you nearly every night, you couldn’t remember the last time you had your own release or even felt any joy while in bed.

“Lay back and let me take care of you.”

Lance trailed down your chest, kissing and sucking each breast as he went. You were unable to hold yourself together any longer, a string of moans leaving your mouth, your fingers tangled in his long hair as his tongue flicked over your nipple.

“You’re so sensitive to my touch, angel. So good.” The praise was new for you again and it went straight to your pussy. “I want to taste you, Mon Ange.” Lance was kneeling on the floor in between your legs and just the sight alone made you see stars.

“Please, I need your mouth on me, Lance.” He moaned back, making short work of your pyjama pants. As you lay there, finally naked again in front of Lance, your cheeks began to heat and the embarrassment of how your body looked now overtook you. Lance noticed you close in on yourself and was right back up beside your face before you could blink.

“Hey, hey. Are you ok? Do you want me to stop? We can stop right now, at any time, I promise.” He cooed softly to you, wiping some strands of hair away from the sweat that had started to form on your face from the weather and from the way Lance had been kissing you.

“No, I don’t want to. I Just… I know I look different and I’m sorry.” You looked up into his eyes, an apologetic smile on your face. You couldn’t deny it, the way your collarbones now protruded from your skin and your hips had lost their fullness, you were a complete 180 to how Lance had seen you on your last final night together.

“Hey Petal, that is ok that you look different. You have been through so much and with that your body has changed. However, I have never looked at you once in 10 years and thought that you looked anything other than breathtaking, even now.” His words moved you and you grabbed his jaw, showing him the importance of his words through a scorching kiss. “Thank you.”

Lance trailed back down your body before hooking your legs over his shoulders, kissing your inner thighs up to where you needed him the most. Before you could even beg, his tongue was on you, soft kitten licks making you inhale sharply, throwing your head back against the pillow.

“You taste like heaven,” was all Lance muttered as he continued to fuck his tongue into you, his nose rubbing over your clit, evoking growing moans from you. Lance was eating you like a starved man and you guessed that in a way you both were starved from this. Looking down at him, you made eye contact and just the look in his eyes made you nearly unravel right there. He had made you a mess, as he always had but there was no lust inside you. When you looked at him, butterflies erupted in the very pit of your stomach and all you could do was breathe his name out.

“I want you to say my name like that again. Please.” His cool breath against you was all you needed to say it again, the word repeatedly tumbling louder and louder from your mouth as he brought you closer. “That’s it, good girl. You sound like a dream. Come for me. Want to see you cum.” Lance was as breathless as you and you knew you were so close. His hands gripped onto your hips tighter but never hurt you, he would never hurt you.

“Oh my god, Lance, I’m… I am going to come,” was all you could get out in between your flurry of moans and whimpers. “I’ve got you, let go.” And that was all it took. With that, your head dug into the mattress, your eyes rolled back and Lance grabbed our right hand, thumbing small circles on it as you came. H helped you ride your orgasm, soft licks to you before you were squirming.

Lance came back to lie beside you, stroking your hair and kissing your lips softly. “I don’t think I can ever get over you, Princesse,” he said, smiling down at you, his stubble and lips glowing under the moonlight and it made your core begin to tighten again. “That was amazing, thank you so much.” With that you sat up, dropping to your knees in front of Lance.

He chuckled and for a second, your heart sank, had you gotten it all wrong? He didn’t actually want you? He saw your face drop and he reached down, two fingers pushing your chin up to look at him. “We can worry about me later. It’s all about you right now.” Your smile returned before he pulled you up, lying you back down again.

You watched as he stripped his pants off, finally matching your level of undress. You had to stare, you didn’t know when you’d get to see this again and you didn’t want to take any chances. He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but he was substantially taller than you. You used to tease him when you first met as you were just taller than him back then but he caught up and surpassed you quickly. He had let his hair grow out a bit more this season and it reminded you of watching him race in 2020, a pastel pink suit and luscious hair as he stood on the podium twice that year, you watching him from below, Prema shirt adorning your body.

He was ripped, there was no denying it. You all had to be, it came with the job but it was an added perk. His skin was not as tan as you remembered it but we all hadn’t been getting to sunny destinations as much as the season grew closer to Abu Dhabi.

“Lift your hips up for me, mon amour.” His request pulled you from your thoughts and you complied, feeling one of his silk pillows come to support you. “Are you ready?” and you nodded, pulling him down to kiss you again.

“You tell me if you want to stop at any time and we do ok? No questions asked.” He kissed your jaw as he whispered in your ear. You nodded again, already feeling too dazed to answer.

Lance lined himself up with your slip, his lip between his teeth as he tried to compose himself. He was slow and gentle despite the way he looked like he needed all of you at once. “Merde” was all he hissed as he bottomed out, bending down again to kiss your cheeks over and over, giving you time to adjust.

“Lance, please move, please, I need you.” That was all it took for Lance to begin thrusting into you, the sound of skin slapping and both of your moans filling the otherwise quiet room. Your nails dug into Lance’s back, trying to keep yourself grounded. He groaned at the sensation and picked up his pace, strands of hair falling near his eyes from the momentum.

You don’t think you had ever felt so good and so beautiful than in that moment, your cheeks were flushed, your eyes fluttering shut and your hands gripping at any part of Lance’s skin you could find. And then it all stopped. You opened your eyes to find him looking over you, chest heaving as he looked at you with so much admiration.

“Why did you stop?” “Just… let me look at you.”

Just like you, he was taking in everything, worried that he may never get to do this again. You both pushed the thought from your mind as he started again, leaning over you this time, your legs wrapped around his toned waist as you brought each other closer to orgasm.

“All yours. Only yours.” The phrase fell too easily from your lips and Lance moaned loudly at it. “I know baby, I know. You’re all mine, always have been.”

His pace was unrelenting and you could feel yourself falling apart more and more. His words were like magic on you and his praise made up for your lack of talking after the last few months. Every breathy gasp, every throaty moan and every mention of your name from his tongue was like pure gold.

Lance felt the same, looking down at you, he felt his heart swell as your cheeks flushed and lips parted so beautifully to make way for your pleasure to be voiced. His hands were laced in yours, pinning them just above your shoulders as he thrust into you.

His hips began to stutter, not from exhaustion, he could never tire of you below him, making the sounds that you were but because he knew his orgasm was only moments away.

“God, you feel so good around me. I’m getting so close, baby.”

“You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted so bad, Lance. I am never leaving you again. Please baby, please.” Your mind was intoxicated on him and it had loosened your lips, all the things you had to keep inside for so long, coming out.

“Darling, you have… fuck, you have no idea. You’re the only thing I think about at night when I am alone in my hotel room, you are my only release.” The brutal honesty may have seemed over the top or too much but for both of you, it was the confirmation that you were meant to be. That all those years of friendship, of pining, had meant to lead you here, to each other’s arms and hearts.

“I’m really close, angel. Where do you… where - fuck!” He wanted to come inside of you, the animal part of his brain wanted to claim you as his own, send a signal to Harry that he only temporarily had you, that you had always still belonged to Lance. But the only thing that Lance wanted more was for you to feel good and so he asked and would never force you into anything, he knew you had been for 3 months and he never wanted to be like Harry.

“In me, I want you to come in me, Lance. Please!” Your eyes were watery, the pleasure becoming too much and you knew you needed him. It seemed like the rawest form of intimacy and that is all you ever wanted with him. Harry never had the privilege and Lance was the only one who ever would.

��Marry me, please - oh fuck - marry me, ma belle.” “I will, I will, I promise. Fuck, Lance, I’m going to-” and before you could finish your sentence, you were seeing stars and high-pitched moans leaving your lips and you could feel Lance riding out his orgasm, moaning your name over and over.

He came to lay softly over you, still inside you, pressing small kisses over your face again and again until you knew there wasn’t a square centimetre that hadn’t been touched by his puffy lips.

“You were so good, blossom. So good for me. Are you alright?” He was stroking your hair, looking down on you like you hung the moon in the sky every night. “I am so much more than alright. Thank you. You were amazing, you are amazing.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, eh?” you giggled as his Canadian accent became more prominent. It always had when you were together when he was his most relaxed.

Lance watched as you relaxed, your eyes fluttering closed and your body melting into the mattress. He left to the bathroom, turning on the water before coming back to you. He placed an arm around your shoulders and an arm under your knees, hoisting you up, carrying you bridal style to the shower. He set you down, making sure you were steady on your feet before grabbing a handful of soap and washing you. You stood there, completely still, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of someone looking after you. He massaged your shoulders before washing your arms, breasts, stomach and legs, carefully avoiding every sore spot on your body.

Your eyes fluttered open at the loss of touch, Lance guiding you under the water to rinse you. As he reached for his shampoo, you stopped him, reaching your hand out expectantly. He sighed and handed it over to you. You reached up to Lance’s hair, before depositing the shampoo on it, pulling a face as you had to quickly stop it from running into his eyes. He chuckled at you and pulled you closer as he watched you concentrate on lathering his hair. You giggled to yourself as you made it into a mohawk before trying to recreate Elvis’ iconic hairstyle.

Lance was exhausted from the last few days but he would have stood there all night, or morning, he didn’t know what the time was, if he got to watch you smile to yourself at your antics.

“Did you mean it?” You said calmly as you finished washing his shampoo out.

“Mean what?” Lance had a suspicion but wanted to be sure before making a fool of himself.

“Marrying you.” You laid your head on his chest, letting your finger trail over his freckles, giving you an excuse not to stare into his eyes. The warm water enveloping you both in that moment together. After a few beats of silence, you looked up at him, a look of expectancy on your face. You had read his silence as rejection when it was really composure.

“Yes. I mean every bit of it.” He kissed you on the forehead tenderly. “I guess young boys don’t really think about marriage or their soul mate or even love that much but I still remember when I knew. It was Mugello I think, I was really down because I hadn’t managed to put it on pole all weekend for the first time that year and you tried to cheer me up all weekend. We had gotten rained out for the first race and it was cancelled and everyone was just so down but you went back to the trailer and dragged out those silly little drift karts you had gotten for your birthday. We reeked so much havoc that day, you, Robert and I just speeding down the paddock. René was chasing after us yelling for us not to get hurt and we got back to the trailer we were absolutely soaked from flicking puddles at each other with our wheels. We couldn’t stop laughing and I remember looking over at you.” He stopped and shook his head, smiling.

“You were standing outside the trailer, squeezing the water out of your hair, your suit was around your waist, soaked and René was jokingly scolding you and your laughter just sounded like the most beautiful music I had ever heard. I guess that was when I knew I was going to marry you. I still am going to marry you.” You reached up and kissed him tenderly.

“Take me to bed, my love. I want to lie in your arms and pretend that everything is ok for a while.”

“Anything for you, ma rose.”

____________________________________________________

part 3 will be out soon

a huge thank you to @tinydancerjj for all her hype on this! she is the bestest <3

#lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x you #lance stroll angst #lance stroll smut #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic

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sd1d-enthusiast · 2 years

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After years of people acting like Daemon “never loved” Rhaenyra or was using her for the throne, it’s so funny to see those arguments completely obliterated in just two episodes.

In episode 1, we see that he genuinely cares for her:

he brings her gifts with meaning and sincerity, things that have value that both of them appreciate and can treasure

she is the only one he speaks Valyrian too (he doesn’t do it with Viserys or Mysaria despite them knowing it!). One of the actors said it’s like their own secret love language a

nd that couldn’t be more accurate

look at their banter during the throne room: the way he teases her and the way she snipes back at him but instead of getting angry, he smiles. she makes him smile.

with her, he puts aside his claws and shows a very rare tenderness. that scene of him carefully putting that necklace on her? he wouldn’t be caught dead doing that to anyone else.

the look in his eyes when he goes to comfort her during her mom’s funeral? if he was really only looking to use Rhaenyra for the throne this would have been the perfect chance to drive a wedge between her and her father and draw her over to his side. but he doesn’t. why? because he cares for her and sees how alone she is in that moment

In episode 2, we see that Daemon is truly and utterly whipped:

the moment Rhaenyra arrives on her dragon he goes from smug douche mode to “oh fuck the wife is here and i need to behave now mode.” He literally clutches at that egg like a boy caught putting his hand in the cookie jar and Mysaria gives him the biggest wtf look lmao

there’s this tiny smile on his face when she lands and all of Otto’s side is in shock. he’s fucking proud of her for that glorious entrance. he’s glad to see her even if it means things are now much more complicated

Hell, you could even argue he engineered this whole scenario and trolled the fuck out of everyone, just so he could see two people that he cares about most. His brother. And Rhaenyra. He chose the one thing that he knew she’d be pissed about him taking: her brother’s egg. This is what happens when Daemon is bored, lonely, and separated from the people he cares about most for too long.

For all the people who claim Rhaenyra was the unsuspecting victim to Daemon’s desire for the throne and just manipulated and used, Rhaenyra destroys those claims with just a few sentences. “I’m right here, uncle. The object of your ire, the reason you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as an heir, you need to kill me. So do it. And be done with all this bother.”

She straight up challenges him and tells him to kill her. Why? Because she knows that there’s no way in seven hells that he would ever come close to doing it. She sees right through him and calls his bluff. She knows he cares too much. And he knows that she knows. Hence, the slightly amused, slightly proud, and very much exasperated “you know I would never do that” look on his face.

So it’s established that he would never hurt her even if she gave him the chance. Then it’s also established that he would never lie to her either. He does his whole elaborate prank about getting another wife and having a child to everyone, but under her stare, he can’t bring himself to lie. That shows more than just care and affection. That shows that he respects her too much to lie. He can play everyone else for a fool and have his little game, but not Rhaenyra.

“You already have a wife.” “Not of my own choosing.” The look he gives her afterwards when she tells him to kill him and he just stares at her in silence. He’s clearly not thinking “this girl really ruined my plans smh.” You can practically see the wheels turning in his head. This mf is involuntarily thinking “I’m going to make this girl my wife one day.”

TLDR: Daemon is whipped for Rhaenyra and I will hear no objections

#rhaenyra x daemon #daemyra #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daemonxrhaenyra #rhaenyraxdaemon #rhaenyra and daemon #daemon and rhaenyra #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd episode 1 #hotd episode 2 #game of thrones #fire and blood

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way-of-love · 1 year

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Unfulfilled (Namor x FemReader 18+ NO MINORS) (PART 1) (SPOILERS)

So I DECIDED to give a Namor fic a go and kinda got a terrible idea but tell me how it goes. Read a fic YEARS ago that inspired me to write this after watching Wakanda Forever. Cheers!

You, a mutant siren, made a deal with the god and king of Talokan. That in use of your body, to be a surrogate, to create an heir, you will be paid in what the world truly wants most. Vibranium. And other riches of course. But you set rules, limits to what was allowed and all those months lead to nothing. An empty womb. And a very angry surrogate. Namor has been nothing but patient but now was the time to exploit your ridiculous rules and claim what he's been fighting for.

Part 2!

It was taking too long, why was this taking so long? You were already angry from the beginning knowing HE was due to visit you tonight and seeing his progress, your progress barely moving added a lot of complicated stress not only to your mental state, but your body was taking a toll.

Every night when he came to hold up his end of this deal you two made it was always you who was sore and achy from it. And after months of trying, you were starting to think this godly man was full of dust. It grew increasingly hard to keep your emotions in check. At work any little thing blew you off, even when you were with him you got mad and almost kicked him once or twice because he didn’t know how to be gentle. But he was not one to stray from his path, not when his heir was on the line or even his people.

This arrangement of yours happened quite a few months ago, being a mutant siren yourself, you were the perfect fit to carry his little heir. Or so that is what he said. You lived alone on the edge of a tiny little island that seemed rural but was more advanced than they let on. Living here wasn’t all bad, you had a few flings here and there, had a job at a local “club” dancing and using your siren songs to lure in men and their cash. Military men absolutely loved you and the more you appeased them the more money you brought home with you. The Siren. That’s what the club called you, little did they know they weren’t far from the truth.

You were home standing by the shore singing one early morning when he walked out from the sea, claiming he was seeing pieces of land his people once ruled but stopped when he heard your song. At first, he didn’t seem to be quite allured like the others, so you heard him out when he offered to sit through your songs and see what you could do. Dreadfully, you should have never given him the time of day because after that he granted you a deal. A mutant baby with the power of a god and voice of a siren for vibranium and whatever treasures you wanted. It sounds awful but when you're struggling to leave this tiny island and live somewhere where no one can find you, it was a surprisingly good deal so you had to say yes.

He was charming with his words, convincing with his expressions, smooth with his caresses, he got you the moment he walked out from the ocean. And you were a being made to seduce and devour, yet he was your siren.

It took you quite a few weeks to understand his reasoning to have a baby so suddenly and why would he pick you, seemed like water people needed to stick together and the more there were of you the better. He went into depths about his defeat in Wakanda, how he was close to death and if he did perish, he would have someone to rule in his stead. An heir, a blood heir.

Children weren’t even in your vocabulary, not even in your future. You weren’t mother material. You could barely take care of yourself. You explained to him that as soon as you had the baby, he would take it and leave you alone for the rest of your life. He agreed. As soon as the child is born whatever vibranum was offered will be given in full and you both will never see each other again.

Fast forward to now, negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test. You were frustrated. When you made the deal you told him specifically, you did not want to feel pleasure, just do the deed and leave. You made sure he followed the rules, he gets it up himself, he mounts and finishes then off he goes back into his little water cave.

To say it was hard was the biggest understatement of the year. You weren’t sure this would work.

Standing back up you gave yourself a quick look in the mirror, a small little pep talk and left your bathroom. It wasn’t a big house, just a small little beach house where your bedroom was also the kitchen, the living room, and the office. And a giant looming sea man standing facing the double sliding doors that lead to the beach. When it was time to meet during the night, he would let himself in just as you both agreed to.

He must have heard you exit the bathroom because he slowly turned to face you with raised brows,” So?”

You hated this part. Before leaving the bathroom, you grabbed the negative pregnancy test you took a few minutes prior, “Negative,”

With small steps you stood before him holding it out, "I think, you're the one with the problem. I mean we’ve done this, what? Six hundred times and there still isn’t anything there?”

For the past few weeks everything felt different, the club felt different, you felt different, and you weren’t sure why. The other dancers saw it too and they left you alone, of course the siren who liked to be alone didn’t mind it one bit, but it felt strange.

It wasn’t even work that made you think something was wrong, it was when you started to study the men that came to watch you sing and dance. There was a difference in men, you didn’t know if you liked it. Each time one man stopped to look, you compared him to another one and then another, they were nice men but somehow, they left you feeling the strangest feeling...you couldn’t place your finger on it, but it left you unfulfilled. One man was too short, another was too skinny, and another's voice was too high. No one was sufficient, none of them could cater to your needs.

You had to stop occasionally, to remind yourself you were fulfilled, that your needs were met. But the heat radiating off your skin, the wanting of it and the needs tell you different. You were unfulfilled.

Namor didn’t provoke you while you ran a frustrated hand through your hair, as if he knew all too well the obstacle that lay in his way to conceive. “There is nothing wrong with me,”

“Really? Because it sure seems like there's a whole lot going wrong with you.” Again he didn’t engage in the conversation and just stared at you. It made you want to punch him in the face and tell him this whole deal was off. Turning around frustrated you tossed the pregnancy test on the bed and ran your hands down your face.

“I'm tired,” You complained, stressed. "Everything hurts. I get bruises, and I get sore. I can’t do specific dances because of that baby's arm in your trunks makes everything ache,” You were emotional and you didn’t know why. But he did. Namor knew this frustration very well and this was the first step to overcome and conquer you.

“You get to get off and I just stand there...”

You were talking with your emotions and didn’t know what you were saying but Namor did. But he still didn’t engage.

Slowly he walked over to the bed you slept on and you both used every other night; he picked up the test and held it to examine it himself. As if he didn’t believe you.

You glared at him while he took his sweet time looking at the little screen. Unfulfilled needs can cause rebellion. Rebellion can come in many forms. And as Namor looked at you he found himself growing very annoyed with how difficult you were making this out to be with your rules, your limits and how much you rejected the natural course of two human bodies.

“Do you understand why I choose you Y/N?” He asked her so sweetly as he placed the test down and went to stand before you this time,” Your voice brought me up. And when I saw the person behind this voice,” He pressed two fingers against your throat. “Independent. Strong. Beautiful. Invisible.”

He put more pressure on those two fingers against your throat forcing you to stand your ground, “No one would suspect you, even if I were to be discovered you would never be. You know how to hide and hide you do very well but this,”

His hand lowered so it lay flat against your lower stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand burning through your nighty, “This is something you cannot hide. You’re frustrated.”

“Damn right I am. You frustrate the hell out of me.”

“You misunderstand mujer fatal,” He spoke calmly, soften by how you looked neglecting yourself. Drained. Tired. “You are sexually frustrated.”

You blinked staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Then you scoffed. “I’m...Get out. This meeting, date, conference, whatever you want to call it is off tonight. I can’t stand you,” You murmured softly, moving to get around him. He blocked your path, with an outstretched hand. Namor has not dismissed this arrangement and he made sure you knew.

“You cannot stand me because you desire me.”

“Oh please, you may be a god, but your ego is just like every other man. Conceited.” Your ears were flooded with the sound of the pounding of your heart. He was getting you annoyed, angry, upset.

“This has nothing to do with ego but truth. You have denied yourself because of your silly rules and you are suffering from it. You’re allowing your own ignorance and ego blind you of that truth,” You looked almost scared as he went on to list her rules from top to bottom and you had to agree they all seemed ridiculous. But you set them there for a reason. You didn’t want him. Right?

“Your body has needs and you are neglecting them for something as senseless as remaining unattached. A woman can’t live that way. You are meant to be pleased and adored, and not used as you have allowed me to use you. Admit your desire for me and that frustration could ease away,”

You swallowed thickly, taking another step back but finding that the balcony doors were blocking your way of making space. Sneering and seething with anger or was it frustration? “I don’t want you Namor,”Shit. Even you weren’t too sure. Your voice came out quiet like a whisper. “You’re just a guy I’m working with. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“It doesn’t have to be only business Y/N.” He moved his hand down to your hip gripping it and making sure you felt just how big and powerful it was,” There can be pleasure too,”

#namor smut #namor fanfiction #namor x y/n #self insert #x reader #marvel #black panther wakanda forvever spoilers #black panther #wakanda forever

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lustrous-dawn · 13 days

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A time in passing

Arashi watched the Ho-oh tend to his tidings with a newfound edge to his demeanor. The young Tornadus didn't understand Zhen's behavior, a small frown on his lips. Then he bit his lower lip, trying to wrap his head around the new expression Zhen bore.

But he couldn't ignore the small Butterfrees in his stomach at his expression, his small hand reaching out to touch, a slight tug on Zhen's pants.

The change was swift and the expression was gone as Zhen looked down. However, the strange look hadn’t receded from his eyes, and Arashi's tail swished behind under this glance. “Zhen?”

“What is it, kid?” Quietly spoken words. Arashi knew Zhen was being mindful, he always liked this when it came to speaking with him. But this was different. It was almost as if he was on guard.

Things were different ever since the dragon had disturbed their dwellings. The Rayquaza rested in a private quarters arranged for him but not before a heated disagreement occurred between Zhen and Nahkti. Both Tora and Arashi were ushered away but they still heard it all.

It was rare for Zhen to be angry and… Arashi didn't like to see him angry. It felt off. But eventually, the Ho-oh would relent and allow it.

“Give him some time, child,” the placating voice of his guardian in his ears.

The sight of Zhen springing into action that day, a human then an eruption of flames as the Phoenix stood, taking his place never faded into obscurity for the Tornadus. The angry shrills replayed in his mind, Arashi cupping his ear, pinched eyes averting.

“Is there something wrong?” A soft touch; a gentle hand placed upon Arashi’s head, rubbing his hair. That strange look in his eyes vanished. “Does something hurt?” Careful hands tilted the Tornadus’ head this way, that, inspecting.

“No, no,” Arashi rasped. With a jerky shake of the head, he got himself free from Zhen’s hold. “No hurts,” he said more firmly, fending off Zhen as he reached in again. He knew he had to be strong, a grown-up eventually. But he liked the warmer touch of robes brushing against his cheeks. It reminded him so much of his feathers.

Then the child paused. This was a hurt but of a different kind. One you couldn't see.

It was with a sigh that Zhen hunched, looking Arashi firmly in the eye. “Arashi.” The Tornadus jerked at his name, recognizing what this was. “You know you can tell me if something is wrong. If I happened to scare you back then-”

“No!” Arashi exclaimed. “Not scary!” How could he ever find the Ho-oh scary?! He struggled to make out what was truly bothering him, his expression strained. It was something here. He didn't like seeing Zhen like this.

The signs of fatigue on his face, the guarded look in his eyes. He missed the carefree nature that always emitted from the Ho-oh whenever the young child saw him.

Like when they were flying-

A sparkle in Arashi's eyes as he gripped Zhen's long sleeve. “Zhen! Can we go flying?”

A pause, Zhen's free hand scratching the back of his neck. But Arashi knew he won as the man sighed. “We can fly around for a little bit but not long.” A small smile that touched his eyes. “I need to give the old wings a decent stretch anyway,” he said, placing the Tornadus on his shoulder.

“Me, me, me! Me too!” Cried Tora as she sprang from the darkness, leaping onto Zhen's back. She gave an affectionate nuzzle against the cheek as she flopped over his other shoulder.

Arashi beamed as he watched Zhen spark to life he returned Tora's gesture with one of his own as he laughed. “Yeah yeah. I wouldn't think to leave you behind!

“Yay!”

A sharp breeze opened the sliding doors, no doubt to Zhen's powers and he sprang into action, running into the great outdoors.

“Hang on!”

The children didn't need to be told twice, tiny claws clung tightly to the fabric quickly shifting to become feathers as the Ho-oh took to the skies followed by sounds of delight.

Powerful wings propelled them skyward, the sight of their little home growing smaller and smaller. But neither one was afraid, placing their trust wholly on the Ho-oh as he arrowed towards the sun setting over the horizon.

“Faster, Zhen!” They exclaimed, clutching onto his neck. Arashi remained focused on what was ahead. This is what he loved. The breeze caressed his hair. The sense of freedom from soaring made his small heart flutter.

“We’ll take it slow, guys!”

“Ok!”

A small leisure flight to permeate through the senses.

At some point, they found themselves gliding over a gorge, a massive split in stone. They peered down to see neighboring Noctowl and Fearow riding lazily on the thermals from a small updraft.

“Zhen!” A golden eye on Tora as she cried out. “I wanna see the one that makes your heart go boom boom!”

Zhen was so bewildered by the words coming from her mouth that he stopped flying for a second. They all dropped. He quickly recovered at once, tiny claws burrowing into his neck. “WHERE DID YOU LEARN THIS FROM?!”

“Momma says you like someone! So that’ll be our Auntie or Uncle right?”

“Tora…”

#Zhen #Arashi #Tora #Plot #*#I think kids are the funniest thing and you can't change my mind

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tiredpandaportfolio · 7 months

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Hey-ho, go on and tell us about how much everyone in DMC swears and do include your characters!!

Oh bless you for asking me an easy one on a Monday evening lmao. I do have thoughts a-plenty.

---

Let's start with the least sweary of the bunch and work our way up.

Vergil is almost as obsessed with dignity and an honorable appearance as he is (or was) with power. Swearing is uncouth and very un-Sparda-like, in his opinion. The worst you'll get out of him is a highly threatning "You..." with a full gamut of implied swearing. Or something like "buffoon" or "cretin". He's entirely capable of digging through a thesaurus for obscure ways to insult people.

On the other hand, V will say "shit" when things truly are as dismal as they can get. Quietly, under his breath, but with pathos. Griffon does 90% of the swearing for him. And if we believe Griffon, Shadow does about 9% of the rest but he refuses to repeat what she says, claiming it's too vile. But it's Griffon, who buys it, right?

Now, Kyrie, sweet and lovely Kyrie is a master of the Precision F-Strike. She has the patience of the saints and she's raising three boys and a whole-ass adult child who swears like a sailor. So her moments of dropping F-Bombs are very rare, but always editorial. Kyrie however has the amazing ability to be insanely passive-aggressive when annoyed, all while being incredinbly pleasant... and capable of making "thank you" sound like "fuck you, you soulless bitch".

Roy, Tess' elderly, sweet familiar, has a patience threshold that reaches beyond the moon. He is the epitome of the unflappable, stiff-upper-lip Brit without being British. It takes a lot to motivate him to swearing, but get him there, and he swears quite heartily like a Scottish sailor... and not above employing long-dead languages. But do expect you to insult you on the sly or call you a "silly cabbage" which is somehow more insulting that being called, say, "fuckface", coming from a being as old as he is.

Contrary to his image, Dante swears surprisingly little. He needs to be made really, really mad to start dropping F-Bombs and again, his threshold is pretty high. Childish insults don't count, which is why he'll happily call some hapless demon "buckethead" and shit all over their skills in battle without swearing.

On the other end, Trish will swear only when inconvenienced, and mostly under her breath. She learned swearing from Dante and has become aware that a lot of Dante's swearing is incredibly childish and infantile and therefore cringe. Her association with Lady is definitely helping. She's more likely to laugh at someone than call their mother something unpleasant.

Lady swears when particularly frustrated, which is rather often. And much of the source of her frustration is Dante. Or demons. Or shenanigans that cost her money. Or hijinks that damage her equipment, which costs her money. The woman has many reasons to let it rip and she does. She's very fond of rude gestures.

Nero is the problem child, this kid will start swearing loudly and heartily at the slightest provocation and loves pissing people off by insulting their mothers. He's not very creative about it... yet... but he's getting there as he hangs out with people who know more swear words than he does. He's very good at stealth insults.

As angry and sweary as he is though, there is yet another level he can only aspire to achieve... and he pays attention.

The sweariest and most vehemently offensive of the bunch is Tess who makes up for her small stature and unassuming looks with a wellspring of vulgarity and cursing that is as deep as outer space. Piss her off enough and her speech becomes a constant, uninterrupted stream of vile swearing that can go on without repetition for 5 or 6 minutes in about 4 different languages. Nero is in awe of this woman and Dante winces when she suddenly goes off like a grenade. He is wholly convinced this is a matter of stature-- "She's tiny, so all her rage and spite and swearing gets super concentrated."

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happyk44 · 1 year

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Melinoe allowing Jason to go on a nightly excursion to the surface. She sees a bitterness in him, small but doable, and she's still angry at Olympus so she sends him out to wander with everyone else and takes him back before the sun rises.

She just doesn't take all of him back.

The bitterness remains. The unfettered anger he always ignored, never acknowledged, pretended didnt exist. Disappointment in his sister, in friends. Rage at his father, his step-mother.

Bitterness quickly turns to vengeance the longer he sits outside of the underworld without the rest of him to reconcile it away, square it back to recesses of his soul and mind he doesn't dwell in.

He stalks along the coast, dragging storms with every ghostly step until he's at Camp Jupiter. Lightning storms set fires. Rain floods the plains. A righteous ghostly justice curls an eerie hand along the camp and into New Rome as he continues on.

The Hunters wake up freezing with torn tents. Their dogs have run amok. Thalia's diadem is shattered next to her. There's a threat in the claw marks around her shredded tent. I could've killed you, they say. But you weren't worth my time.

The Wolf House burns to the ground again. Anger festers so violently in him by then that it's only by luck the children inside make it out alive. By the help of wolves that are quickly torn apart in front of their horrified little eyes. How dare you help them and not me, the murder speaks. I was younger than them. I needed love more.

New York sinks quickly into view. Olympus ratchets up the Empire State Building. By now, news of his focused attacks has spread quickly across the Greco-Roman communities. Camp Half-blood prepares for an attack that never comes. Why would it?

No one there tore him into nothing. No one there rebuilt him into a perfect weapon, only to throw him away when he was unneeded. They gave him a home, people who truly loved him. Sure, he was abandoned by the friends he made there too but it wasn't their fault. Piper only left because she felt Hera had forced into loving him. And Leo only left because he felt he needed to die to matter, a consequence of terrible homes filled with people who didn't care.

A consequence of the gods.

The smoke gathers attention first. The smell of burning stalls and plants. Nymphs scream and cry next. They bleed out on the ground before withering away into flowers and tiny shrubs. Things shatter and break as a storm builds around him. He's inhuman now, a creature more than a ghost. Vengeance, pain, anger.

His teeth drip blood, his nails elongated. His eyes are electric. The door slam open. The portraits shatter. The thrones crack. He's a storm, whirlwnding forward for the culprits in his suffering. And they can't stop him from burning it all to the ground.

After all, what can a god do to a ghost?

His brother stands in all his godly glory and Jason hates it. How quickly will he forget the lessons he learned? Immortality paints time as a game. He'll forget what matters.

It's only Hermes' speed that saves Apollo from pure disintegration. Sure, he'd reincarnate, but, oh it would be painful.

He's a warhead on a mission, plowing down hallways and throwing back gods like toys. Lightning illuminates throughout him like veins. His father stands with lightning bolt in hand. His step-mother, the one who dangled him like steak over the snapping maws of a dozen wolves then cried as though he mattered to her, is by his side with a frightening silver sword.

This is their fault, he thinks. They created me. Lightning explodes like a bursting pipe. This is all their fault.

He feels nothing and tastes only victory. Godly blood stains the walls. But even as they fail to touch him, they don't go down easily. He batters them away and they stand again, joined by family, joined by friends.

Jason never had that. Abandoned every time he got close. Died before he could try again.

He was a child.

How dare they act like they cared.

How dare they call him their son.

"Jason." The voice cuts through his blinding haze like a train to the chest. He spins, his won personal tornado. Hermes stands, battered and bruised, beside Nico, who regards him a pinched look and an outstretched hand. "You're not supposed to be here. You supposed to be at home."

He doesn't have a home. He never did. Thrown from place to place. Home is where you are loved.

He wasn't.

He turns back to the people who took that from his. His father for letting him be born into an unkind world, to an angry mother, and for letting him be thrown to the wolves. His step-mother for throwing him to them, for taking his life and playing with it like he was a toy.

He was not a toy.

He isn't.

He's a person.

"I know you are," Nico says. His voice is patient and quiet in the thundering winds. It sings loud and clear through Jason's ears. "You're a good person, Jason. They didn't deserve you then and they don't deserve you now. You were worth more than what they gave you."

He was.

"Please. Let me take you home."

He can't. He's not done. But something pulls across his chest and he screams. Nico is unharmed as Hermes pulls him to safety, burned from where Jason's blast hit him, but gripping tight to Nico's waist.

Jason could remember that. Holding Nico, frightened and stressed out, carrying him across the skies to Cupid, to Eros. To painful confessions and anger.

He remembers how it sank out of his sink in angry shadows and grappling skeletons. And how Eros batted him away with forceful pushy winds.

"Kind of like you right now."

He stills.

"You tried to hurt me."

It wasn't on purpose.

"I can't leave until I have you in my hands, Jason. And soon my father will be here to do it himself and if he ends up injured because of you, I don't know if I can forgive you for that."

Jason stares at him. Why would he hurt his uncle? The god has done nothing to him.

"You're angry." Nico steps outside of Hermes' grasp. "Angry people do not make the best decisions. When I was angry, I listened to a homicidal maniac trying to come back to life. I almost got people killed. People who didn't deserve to die just because I was upset." He holds out his hand as Jason starts to float down. The ground scuffs the tips of his toes. Nico's palm glows back him. There's something familiar about the pulsing blue orb in his hand. "You're not thinking with your full capacity. You're a good person. You forgive. It is your best and worst trait."

Jason blinks up at him.

"It's time to go home, Jason." He pauses and glances down at Nico's glowing palm. Then sinks his hand against it, exhaling a breathless sigh. Nico smiles sweetly and pulls him close. "Let's go home."

#jason grace #nico di angelo #vengeful spirit jason is certainly a thought #happy talks pjo #my writing #pjo fanfic #my fanfic

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

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Friendly Ignorance

Original Ask from @writer84: Are there ever times that Andy is out with the girls and because of narrow minded people they do not think the girls are his? What happens does it hurt the girls feeling and what about Andy how does it make him feel?

Summary: Andy encounters an old friend while his girls are playing in the park, which results in him having to teach the idiot a lesson in manners that he won’t soon forget. Andy Barber x Black!Reader, Bianca Barber, Katrina Barber

Warnings: Ignorance, Asshole Behavior, Angry/Protective Andy, Cursing, Violence, Scared Barber Girls, Cheeky Barber Girls

A/N: So, @writer84, after a little more thought, I had another idea. And I can’t help but wonder if this is more of what you originally meant. I wasn’t going to write it, but it’s been ping ponging in my brain. Let me know...

___

Andrew leans back against the park bench, content to just watch his girls play. His babies were so full of unbridled joy and laughter, it truly made his heart lighter. The girls were currently going up and down on the seasaw.

Or they would have been if they both weren’t caught up in yet another fit of giggles.

Andy takes a moment to scan the activity around the park. He takes note of the other parents, various joggers, picnickers, and sure, the occasional homeless person.

All of these people could be perfectly innocent. But at the same time, any one of them could be a threat.

If his wife were here, she would roll her eyes at him. But Andy was the type of man who subscribed to the belief that you could never be too careful. In his opinion, that was just part of being a Dad. Any man could father a child, but it didn’t make them a Dad.

Nothing and no one threatened his girls. Not while he was breathing.

He forces himself to take a breath before he fully fell down that dark rabbit hole. He had a knack for doing that to himself sometimes. Instead, he allows his focus to return back to Bianca and Katrina, who have since moved to the swings.

BiBi is pushing little KitCat, while trying to teach her how to pump her tiny legs so she can swing all by herself. Too fucking adorable.

He jumps slightly when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Looking over, he sees a man who looks...familiar.

“Andrew Barber! I can’t believe it - I almost ran right past you buddy!”

Andy gives him a blank look as he struggles to recall the other man’s identity.

“Man, it’s me, Dustin. From Boston College, bro. Remember? And then we were law clerks together at -”

“Oh yeah, yeah, I remember.” He stands up to shake Dustin’s hand. “How ya been, pal?”

Dustin shrugs and wipes at his blonde brow. “Aw, bro. You know, out here living the dream. And speaking of dreams, look at you, Mr. District Attorney. You’re outshining us all!”

Andy chuckles before shooting a quick glance towards the playground. Old friends aside, he needed eyes on his girls. Satisfied when he sees them still over by the swings, he turns his attention back to the other guy.

“Hey, sorry, man. Gotta keep an eye on the kiddos.”

“Oh, no worries. I get it.” Dustin responds, palms up. “Got a few of my own myself. And, uh, hey. Not to make this awkward, but I’m sorry about Lori and Jacob. Truly.” He clears his throat and looks down at the ground. “I would have reached out, but...”

“It’s alright.” Andy mumbles, his voice gruff.

“So, you mentioned kids. I’m guessing you got married again?”

“Sure did. To the most amazing woman. She keeps me on my toes, pal, that’s for sure.” A smile graces his lips as he thinks about the fiesty little minx that he’d somehow convinced to marry him.

“Good for you, Barber!” Dustin gives him a hearty tap on the shoulder. “Now, which ones are yours?”

Once again, Andy returns his attention to the swings. “You see those two right there? Those girls on the swings? They’re with me.” His voice is filled with pride as he points them out.

The man looks over and his smile briefly falters. “Um, okay.” Dustin runs a hand through his hair. “Look man, it’s great that you volunteer for the Boys & Girls Club on weekends. Super admirable. And it’s great that you think of them as yours. Truth be told, that’s what these kids need if they ever hope to have a chance of making it, but...”

That one vein in Andy’s forehead was beginning to throb.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He growls.

“Aye, no need to get defensive, guy. You’re a good role model for them to have. I mean, they’re cute girls. Hopefully, your influence will keep them in school and, uh, off the corners, ya know?” Dustin flashes him a toothy grin, completely unaware of the fact that he was rapidily approaching death.

“My girls will never ever end up working the corner, you ignorant piece of shit!” Andy snarls.

First, he was going to break the prick’s jaw. And then, while he was bent over clutching his face, Andy would take that opportunity to knee him in the gut. He’d follow that up with at least two solid blows to the kidneys. Then, he’d finish him off with a broken kneecap. Yep, that sounded good.

“Woah!” Dustin laughs. “I’m not saying they will, Barber. Chill!”

Andy is distracted from his murderous thoughts when his girls run up to him.

“Can we have our water now?” Katrina asks.

Bianca pokes her in the shoulder. “You is supposed to say s’cuse me when people talkin’.” You older daughter huffs.

“Oh. Sowwy. S’cuse me. Water pwease. And can you fix my pigtails? Sissy tried but no look right.”

“Looks fine.” BiBi grumbles.

“Here are your waters.” Andy hands them their little cantines. “And yes, I fill fix your hair. Just give me one moment to -”

“Well hi, ladies.” Dustin lowers himself onto his haunches. “Are two having a good time hanging out with Mr. Barber today? I bet he’s lots of fun.”

Both girls share a confused look.

“Does he mean Daddy?” KitCat whispers.

“Dunno.” Her big sis murmurs before shrugging it off. Grown-ups could be weird sometimes. “Daddy, we gettin’ hungry. Time for lunch?”

“Yes it is, baby. Give Daddy just a second and we’ll -”

“Wait. Wait a minute!” Dustin blanches slightly. “These are your - these are really your kids? These two?” He gestures back and forth between the two girls. “Who woulda’ thought that the Great Andrew Barber had it in him to take a walk on the wild side?” He chuckles softly. “I mean, I know we all dabbled in college but...to put a ring on it?”

Andy feels his muscles tensing. His nostrils flaring. The combination of rage and utter disbelief threatening to choke him.

“My Mama has dah most beautiful ring in the world! So shiny.” BiBi tells the strange man. “Our Daddy gave it to her, because he dah best and he love her so much.”

KitCat nods in agreement. “Wike dis’ much!” She spans her arms as wide as they can go.”

“Tell the truth, old man. Did you feel like you had to or something? What’d you do knock her up and -” That’s the last thing Dustin is able to get out before Andy’s large hand wraps itself around his windpipe and squeezes. Hard. He watches with satisfaction as the man’s face begins to turn a myraid of colors.

First red. And then purple. Blue was next.

“Dada, stop!” He feels two pairs of tiny hands frantically tugging at his pants.

“Stop, Daddy. We scared!” Those last two words are enough to shake him out of his haze. Andy let’s him go and shoves him backwards.

Still breathing hard, he pins the man he once considered a friend with the most ferocious look he can muster. “My wife is the most brilliant creature to have ever walked this earth, you ignorant dipshit.” He rails as Dustin clutches at his abused throat.

“She didn’t trap me. I did everything in my power to trap her, because I knew from the moment I met her that she was literally the other half of my goddamned soul. And if that wasn’t enough, she graced me with two wonderful, brilliant, talented, beautiful little girls. And right now, they are the only reason that you are still breathing.”

“Let’s go babies. I’m sorry for scaring you. We’ll get some lunch and then Daddy will take you out for ice cream, okay?”

They nod and allow him to lead them out of the park. However, unbeknownst to Andy, both girls turn their heads and stick their tongues out at the stupid man.

END

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