#an unkindness of flags | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluesidez · 1 month

Text

The Love Lab presents:

Boyfriend is to Husband

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader

summary: How would Miguel react if you did the “calling my bf my husband” trend? 🤔

content warning: It gets a little suggestive, but other than that, it’s fluff fluff fluff. There are short mentions of food, but nothing too crazy. The Miguel in here is also not Spiderman. Just a little guy.

credit for art and dividers: Me! and @kimjiho1 (plus another person for the gif divider, if this is yours, lmk!)

a/n: This will be apart of a series called The Trendy Couple! This is the first installment ☝🏾😌. I’m not sure how long the series will be, but right now it’s just based off of cute couple's trends. My fyp has suffered trying to do research for this…

word count: 2.2k

I use the word "buggy" in here. Buggy = shopping cart or trolley. I'm southern so buggy just rolls off the tongue. ❤︎ Plus, it sounds cute!

You and Miguel have been out since 8 am running errands and grabbing supplies to fill up the new apartment.

After a year of your dresser being full of his sweatpants and hoodies and his furniture hosting several of your blankets, his fridge being stocked of your favorite fruits and your shower caddy holding his body care, you both decided it was best to live together.

Towel sets, bed sheets, comforters, silverware, curtains. This was only the tip of what you and Miguel had managed to stuff inside the car.

After hitting five shops just that morning, you opted to stay in the car while Miguel went and handled a pickup order from the hardware store. It was getting closer to lunchtime and you didn’t want to become irritable because of the long lines.

To pass the time, you decided to scroll on TikTok, watching video after video, reacting to each accordingly.

First, it was chatty kitties begging for food. Then, it was edits of hot wrestlers. Next, it was ramen recipes to cook at 2am. There were even a couple of NPC lives even though the trend was nearly dying at this point.

Finally, you scrolled to a video hosting a girl and her boyfriend huddled together in a car over the console.

She’s leaned up against him, her smile beaming, “Today I’m going to be guessing my husband’s favorite things!”

“I’m not your husband,” are the words that shoot from her boyfriend’s mouth, fast as lightning. Cold. Unkind. Callous.

You watch as the girl’s smile drops and the video cuts, her laughing out of shock beforehand, evidence of her trying to stamp out her embarrassment.

You watch more as his grin widens and she gives him this awkward glance.

“Not yet,” he adds, seeing how quiet she was.

The video ends with her jumping at him playfully, trying to play the situation of.

“Jesus,” you sigh, mouth turned sideways as you pause the video and open up the comments. Thousands of people were telling her to dump him, others questioning why he would say what he said in the way that he did.

Your heart went out to the girl who clearly wanted to do a harmless joke that completely backfired.

You liked a comment about this being a possible red flag. Although he could have responded that way because he wasn’t ready for marriage, his response was so quick and distant that it was like he was disgusted at the possibility of being with her that long.

After working yourself up by scrolling through the comments, you decide to go even further by pressing the “calling my boyfriend ‘husband’” search at the top.

There were so many stitches to the original video with people giving their own thoughts about the situation. Some people were proclaimed dating coaches, others psychologists, and a few influencers.

You even see a follow up video from the original couple with the guy giving a shitty excuse as to why he was so quick in his response.

“Yeah right,” you mumble, watching the girl snicker at her boyfriend’s pouts. You agree with the comments that his response makes the original video even worse.

Still scrolling down, you find another video featuring a new couple.

They’re at a table eating donut holes out of a hat, and when the girl calls her boyfriend “husband”, the guy’s entire body lights up. He’s grinning, cheeks rosy, and can’t stop staring back at his girlfriend.

From there, you were able to see countless other couples with cute videos, all of the guys radiating at the word “husband.”

Biting your lip, you wondered how Miguel would react if you called him your husband.

You loved him with all of your heart and you were sure that he loved you. You guys are literally moving into an apartment together. But the thought of him being unsettled by you calling him your husband weighed on you.

Just as you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a knock near the trunk of the car startling you. Looking up in the rearview mirror, you see Miguel standing with a few bags and wood planks in his hands. You reach over and press a button to pop open the trunk.

“Got everything?” you ask, turning to watch as he drops items in the back.

“Yeah, I think so. Although there was almost a brawl over some potted plants,” he said. “Some older lady just came up to this guy and snatched his monsteras.”

“What?” you respond, watching as he closed the trunk and walked around to the driver's seat. “Out of his hands or the buggy?”

Miguel laughed, both recalling the scene and finding your terms adorable. “She just came up and snatched it out of the cart while he was waiting at the end of the line. She swore that she saw it first.”

You listened to him retell the story, hand under your chin as you leaned closer. He was cute, lilt in his voice to make an impression of the plant thief. Thinking to yourself that you liked this little moment of playfulness, you take your phone out to record.

Placing your phone in a case attached to the dashboard, you smile at the camera while Miguel’s still going.

“‘You youngins think the world owes you everything, and that’s just not the case!’ And the poor guy is standing there going ‘ma’am, I just want my plant back.’ He looked so distressed.”

“I would be too! A random lady just shopped from my buggy. It’s like, why are you this close to me to see what I’m trying to buy?”

Miguel turns the car on and buckles up. “It started to escalate when the lady’s friend came over. Then there were two shrill voices fussing at this guy.”

He started to back the car out of the parking spot, hand behind your seat and head turned towards the back window.

You slowly glanced at his arm, eyes tracing a vein up his shirt.

Too bad you were in a car right now or else you’d let his arm wrap around you elsewhere.

You tune back into his words, silently scolding yourself for letting something so simple get you to fold.

“Luckily, I was able to calm them both down. All it took was me showing them some dasheen leaves,” he said, driving the car closer to the exit of the parking lot.

You came to a conclusion. There was no better time than the present.

“Aw, look at my husband. Saving the day with his genius,” you say, hand reaching out to pat his chest.

Then you feel your body jerk to the right. The seat belt tightens as the car jerkingly swerves in between two parking spaces.

You stare in a panic at Miguel who puts the car in park and turns his entire body towards you.

“What did you just call me?” he asks, eyes searching yours, a little startled but mostly hopeful.

You decide to keep the charades going, “I was just praising my husband for stopping the creation of another Karen video. Why did you turn the car like that?” You’re still looking at him as if he has two heads.

“You just-!” Miguel takes your hands into his and places his forehead on his fists. “Baby, you know what you just said.”

You laugh, a little giddy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Miguel leans back against his seat and closes his eyes, reaching down to take his seatbelt off. His eyebrows scrunch up as he brings your hand to his chest, “Feel my heartbeat.”

Your mouth drops as you feel his heart rattling against his chest. He really wasn’t being dramatic.

“Baby look at me,” you grab his hands and hold them tight. “You did a good job today.”

His breath stopped, as he looked at you. His face was tinted from the whole fiasco.

“Husband.”

Miguel’s entire body slumped as he grinned wide. He nearly jumped over the console to sag his body onto yours.

His shoulders were shaking and you heard his laugh muffled by your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and make a face at the camera.

“What’s up, Mig?” you say, trying to get him to talk.

He mumbled into your clothes, shoulders still shaking.

“I can’t hear you, you gotta sit up.”

He sits up and sniffles, turning his head toward the backseat.

Looking at his profile you can see a few streaks down his face.

“Are you crying?” you ask, turning his face towards yours.

Miguel swipes his wrist across his cheeks, “Stop, this is extremely embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not! I promise it’s not,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his ear. “Talk to me.”

He chuckled, eyes looking down, “It just feels really good to know that you think of me that way. We don’t have to ever cross that line, but one day, if you would like, we can make that title true.”

“Is this a pre-proposal?” you ask, heartbeat in your ears. You went out on a limb to follow a trend, not knowing how it would end. Now you’re staring at Miguel’s flushed face with his heart pouring out into your lap.

“Maybe,” he whispered, grabbing your hands. “Possibly a promise for what could be.”

You bite your lip to hold back a grin, “Can I know what could be right now?”

“And expose my plans? Not a chance,” Miguel smirked. “Besides, a husband knows what’s best for his partner, right?”

“He does,” you quip, rubbing your hand in a circle on his chest. “He also apparently forgets that SUVs can flip very easily.”

“Lo siento, mi amor,” he says, looking sheepishly at the placement of the car. “Did I startle you?”

You just giggle at his concern and give him a quick peck on the mouth. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction.”

“How would you react if I casually called you forever mine? While driving!”

“Go 90 in a 70,” you joke. “Maybe pull over and do a little more than make out.” You rub your hand down his chest, and squeeze playfully at his pec.

Miguel stared back at you, body instantly reacting to the shift in conversation. “We can actually do that right now.”

He leaned forward and brought your lips to his. You could taste the mint from the gum he had earlier, humming when he pushed further into your mouth.

He started to reach for your hips, ready to pull you over onto his lap.

Your stomach let out a loud grumble, making you jump.

“Ok, let’s try this again after we get you some food,” Miguel says, plastering kisses on your face.

The day moves on smoothly with Miguel not letting you out of his sight, hands itching to hold you in some way.

He also never lets the husband thing go.

As you’re ordering lunch, “One lemonade for my baby. And a water with lemon for me, the husband.”

As you stop in a clothing store at the mall for a small break, “These say boyfriend jeans. Do they have any husband jeans?”

As you’re trying to reach the top shelf to grab the last of your favorite detergent, “No, cariño. Let your husband get it for you.”

As you’re looking for throw pillows and towel sets for the apartment, “You think they have a couple’s set? I want something that says ‘Mr.’ on it.”

As you stop at a gift store, looking for something extra to give to the movers, “Look, this shirt says it’s made of ‘hubby material.’ Should I get it?”

This feeling is only amplified when you post his initial reaction online. The comments were full of people yearning to be in your predicament.

“If my boyfriend doesn’t crash the car when I call him husband, THROW HIM AWAY. 😒”

“Does he have a brother….asking for a friend”

“I needed this after the “I’m not your husband” he in LOVE”

“If your bf doesn’t cry at the thought of you, what are you doing”

“He was blushing HARRRRD 😭😭😭”

“So when’s the wedding? 🤨”

“He was literally cheesing and crying omg”

“Get you a man that stops the car to declare his love”

“What if I did a five mile marathon on i-55”

“He’s so in love with you that it’s palpable”

“He was ready do a lot more than make out 😭”

Miguel saw most things, a little embarrassed but mostly happy that so many people found him to be genuine.

You laid on his shoulder as he checked the comments, liking the funny ones as they passed by.

“Do you want to make a response video?” you say, liking a comment going ‘he’s a good man, Savannah.’

“No, I think this is enough,” he replies, handing the phone back to you. “Let me keep a little mystery. At least until I actually propose, of course.”

You looked at him with stars in your eyes.

“A mysterious husband. I kind of like the sound of that,” you say, wrapping your body around his side. “Maybe I can be nosy, find out his secrets.”

“I bet you would, cariño,” he voiced, nuzzling his chin on top of your head. “After, everything is planned and done.”

You laughed and snuggled closer, happy to be with him.

Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading! ❣️

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

I'm excited for the future of this series and I hope you guys are too. When I finish the series masterlist, I'll link it here. If you guys have any trends that you want me to include, then just let me know and I'll see what I can do!

- Lauro ♡

#love lab fics 🧫#husband jeans 👖#The Trendy Couple 💟#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x gn!reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara fluff #spider man 2099 #nerdy?miguel idk #soft miggy 🥺#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction

987 notes · View notes

rose-pearls · 2 months

Note

Could I request something for Clarisse? Where she get's with reader and her father ends up telling her she's weak in her dream. The next day she trains until she passes out and reader finds her and nurses her back to health. Then just some good ol hurt and comfort! Thanks!!

Hi! Thank you for your request, here it is!! I hope you like it! Ares is an asshole here but I am thinking of making a story where he is a good father! My requests are open! If you would like to join a taglist just send me a message!

Main Masterlist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Percy Jackson Masterlist: @niktwazny303 (open)

Clarisse La Rue Masterlist: @abbersreads, @peanutbelley (open)

It had been a hard week; the red team had lost at capture the flag and everything seemed to be getting on her nerves. The only good thing had been you, trying to sooth her and calm her down when it all became too much. She should’ve known that sooner or later a nightmare would come back.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any, every demigod has nightmares, but she hadn’t had one about her father ever since she had gotten with you. It was as if you had managed to heal that part of her with showing her how much you loved her. That night you had to help one of your younger half-siblings so you couldn’t come and sleep at the Ares cabin, but she had told you that it was fine, that she would survive a night without you. How wrong she was.

The forest had been quiet in her dream, no one there, but just as she was walking further ahead, she heard a twig snap. She turned around, expecting to find a monster of some sort but she only came face to face with her father. Deep down she could admit to herself that seeing him was even worse than any kind of monster she could have seen.

“Father?”, she whispers, as if she wanted to make sure that it was him. The sneer on his face makes her realize that it is him and she can’t help but make herself small under his harsh stare.

“What are you doing with that girl?”, the words are unkind, as they have always been, she doesn’t remember a conversation were his voice was soft.

“What do you mean?”, she can’t help but ask, wondering what he means.

“Don’t play stupid with me little girl,” the tone makes it clear that the conversation won’t be a pleasant one.

“Sorry, sir,” she says and Ares nods slowly before coming closer to her, making her curl herself more.

“The Demeter girl, that you have been spending all your time with,” he says after a moment, a clear disgust in his voice when he speaks about you and for a moment, she thinks of defending you, but she knows that the consequences would be harsh.

“We are just spending time together father,” she says, trying not to reveal too much of your relationship, she doesn’t want him to be able to take it away from her.

“You should put an end to it, it just weakens you,” she has to swallow down the urge to tell him you are so much more than just ‘it’, but she manages.

“It won’t, I promise you,” she says but Ares lets out a cold laugh at her words.

“Really? Then how come you lost at Capture the Flag and your idiot of a brother managed to beat you at single combat?”, Ares says, coming closer to her with a dark look in his eyes. She knows she hadn’t been as focused as before but she didn’t think her father was watching her so much. She didn’t know if she should be happy that he had been watching her and giving her attention or feeling sick at the fact that he was watching her every move to catch her making a mistake.

“Don’t make me regret announcing that you are my favorite. I don’t want a weak daughter to represent me. Is that clear?”, the words are harsh, just like they had always been, and she can only nod in response.

“Yes father,” she says, and he nods at her answer.

“Good, better prove that to me,” he tells her before he disappears from her dream, and she wakes up in cold sweat.

Her shirt is clinging to her back from the sweat that had formed during the nightmare, and it takes her a moment to come back to reality. Her breathing is ragged, and she tries to calm herself down but the words of her father ring through her head.

‘Weak’

She couldn’t let him believe that she was weak, she needed to show him that she could be better than her brother and that she deserved to be his favorite. She just needed to train as hard as she could and then she could beat her brother and the blue team at Capture the Flag. Maybe then her father would be proud of her.

No one notices her leaving, she manages to change into her sport gear before going to the training ground. There is no one and she lets out a sigh of relief as she takes her spear in her hands before turning to look at the dummy with determination.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, hitting the dummy as if it had hurt her personally, maybe imagining her dad as the dummy made her even more aggressive. It made the other campers avoid the training ground, thinking that it was better to leave Clarisse alone when she was in a bad mood.

“Clarisse?”, she hears you say, and she realizes that the sun has come up now, the rays of sunshine beating down her back as she turns to look at you. You look worried, a frown between your eyebrows as you look at her.

“Are you alright?”, you ask her, your tone careful, as if you don’t want to scare her with the question but she just nods.

“I am, I just need to train a bit more,” she says, and she is ready to turn back to the dummy before your voice breaks the silence.

“Don’t you want to eat some lunch?”, the question surprises her, not the fact that you are asking her to eat lunch but the fact that it is already lunch. She still had so much to do to be perfect and she couldn’t lose any time.

“I’m alright, I’m not really hungry but go without me,” she tells you and although you still looked worried you simply nod before coming closer to her.

“Fine, but do I get a kiss before I go?”, she can’t refuse you that, she has never been able to and as she brings you into a kiss, she enjoys the few seconds of you being close to her. As she pulls back, she sees you pouting as she doesn’t deepen the kiss, but she just smiles and pats your ass.

“I’ll see you later princess,” she says, and you let out a defeated sigh before nodding and leaving her to her training.

The rest of the afternoon is spent training but as the sun starts to fade into a sunset, she starts to feel dizzy. She tells herself it’s the lack of water but as she tries to take a step towards her water bottle, she suddenly feels her head turning. Before she knows it, she hears you screaming her name, and everything turns black.

There is something cold against her forehead and she tries to get away from it, but a voice shushes her, trying to calm her down.

Her eyes flutter open, and she sees you sitting on the bed next to her, your eyes are bloodshot but there is a relieved smile on your lips.

“Hey, you. How are you feeling?”, you ask softly as you brush a curl away from her forehead.

“Tired, and I have a huge headache,” she whispers, and you nod slowly.

“What happened?”, she asks after a few seconds and a sigh leaves your lips.

“I went to find you to get you to come eat something but before I could reach you, you had fallen on the ground,” your hand is trembling as you brush her curls, and she can see the wetness in your eyes.

“You scared me so much Clarisse,” you whisper, and she feels like someone has punched her, she tries to get up to reassure you that she is alright but as her head begins to feel even heavier you push her down again.

“You need to rest, two days and eat and drink enough,” there is that stern tone in your voice that you usually only use for your younger siblings, and she can only lay back and listen to you.

“Yes ma’am,” she says, trying to lift up the mood but you shake your head.

“Why did you push yourself that hard? You never do that,” she swallows hard at the question, as much as she didn’t want to say it, she knew you wouldn’t let it go.

“I saw my father in a dream, and he told me I needed to do better and stop being weak,” she says, so softly that she isn’t sure if you heard her but as you shake your head in disbelief, she knows you did.

“That asshole, I really want to beat him up right now,” she can’t help but be surprised at the words and the anger in them. You were never one to be angry, always trying to see the positive side and calming her down.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea princess, he is the God of war after all,” she says but she still looks at you in adoration, the way you look ready to get out of there and fight her father makes her weirdly emotional.

“Well, a twelve-year-old Percy beat him so why couldn’t I do it?”, you say with a smirk and Clarisse can’t help but snort at your words.

“I’ll have to teach you a few things before that,” she says, and you nod in agreement.

“But first, resting,” you whisper, and she can only nod in agreement, enjoying the familiar silence between the both of you.

“You aren’t weak Clarisse; you know that right? You are one of the strongest fighters here and if your father can’t see that then he is the biggest idiot on earth. Never let anyone tell you that you aren’t strong enough, you are perfect as you are,” a tear rolls down her cheek at your words and you brush it away with a sad smile, love and adoration shining through your eyes.

“If you ever doubt yourself or you just need someone to talk to you, you can always come to me. I will always be your biggest supporter,” Clarisse can’t reach your lips but as she squeezes your hand you seem to understand what she wants and you kiss her softly, as if she was something precious.

“I love you,” she whispers, and your smile widens at her words.

“I love you too, so much,” Clarisse can only kiss you again, trying to tell you everything she feels through the kiss.

She doesn’t know that you have already asked a now thirteen-year-old Percy to have your back next time you see Ares, to teach the God of War a lesson. And that the boy had happily agreed, already ready to go to Mount Olympus and fight him right there and then with Annabeth by his side. She didn’t realize just yet how many people cared for her, but with time she would.

#percy jackson x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #clarrise la rue #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue fluff

444 notes · View notes

piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 3 months

Text

One thing I think a lot of fic writers miss about Stede is that he can be ruthless.

A lot of the time, we assume "ruthless" is synonymous with "unkind" or even "cruel." Stede's neither of those things. But what ruthlessness really means is having a very clear understanding of what it takes to get from Point A to Point B and having no qualms about doing what it takes to achieve that.

People are mean to Ed? Stede wants them humiliated. He does not care what happens to them after they set their own boat on fire. He needs to escape with his crew? He does not care about drugging the Red Flag's crew to make them pass out and stealing their wheel, potentially stranding them in the open ocean. Ned Low insulted Ed and hurt the crew? Stede doesn't care that he's won, he doesn't care that he's neutralized any threat Ned posed, he wants him to pay for what he did, so he kills him anyway.

It's a fascinating aspect of his character that I rarely see writers lean into. Stede has his baggage but he's definitely not above doing morally questionable things without blinking an eye if it means he feels like he's protecting the people he loves or getting revenge for them.

#ofmd #our flag means death #this was inspired as i edit the next chapter of my ocean deep

310 notes · View notes

libraryofgage · 5 months

Text

PJO Steddie Six

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

And we back at it again with the PJO AU

The new series on Disney+ right? Like, that's soon and I'm fucking excited to start watching it omfg

Anyway, hope you enjoy this one! A little more Steddie flirting and some of Steve being a goddess's favorite little guy lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

-----

"Your, ah, bat," Chiron says, glancing at said weapon leaning against the side of Steve's chair, "it's effective against monsters?"

Around them, the sound of chewing can be heard as the kids descend on the snacks and refilling cups. Dustin, Max, and Erica in particular have chubby cheeks as they shove cookies into their mouths. In comparison, Steve hasn't touched a thing on the table. Not because he doesn't want to, of course, but because he'd rather avoid Lucas inadvertently biting him (it's happened before, he doesn't want it to happen again).

"Max's mom gave us some Celestial bronze, Dustin figured out how to melt it down, and Will suggested embedding nails in a reinforced bat. So we did," Steve explains, shrugging once.

Sitting in the chair directly to the left of Chiron is Eddie, his fingers drumming on the table as he looks between Steve and the centaur. He's been like that for the past 15 minutes, managing to keep quiet unless he's answering a question or adding a detail about their drive up that Steve missed. It's odd to see him so....restrained, but Steve can tell he's trying to be on his best behavior, likely to give him and the kids a better chance of staying.

Chiron hums in thought, considering the kids. His gaze lingers on El the longest, watching as she sips milk tea from her cup and passes Mike a bowl of grapes when he asks for it. "And you're sure El's powers aren't permanent?" Chiron finally asks.

Steve nods once. "We've timed it before. Worst cases fade in a few hours. Since El and I are related, she can't freeze me," he explains, offering a little more information than he needs to in the hopes of earning Chiron's trust.

The centaur must see through him, but his smile isn't unkind. "I see. And do you know all of their parents? The godly ones, I mean."

Steve nods and points to each kid while listing their godly parent. At the end, he points to himself and adds, "And mine is Zeus, which was probably obvious."

"Just a little," Chiron says. He considers them all for a moment before sighing. "Well, as long as you'll take full responsibility for El and her powers, I am happy to welcome you to Camp Half-Blood."

-------

Camp Half-Blood is nice.

Steve likes the strawberry fields, he's already looking forward to giving the climbing wall a try, and Eddie's brief mention of Capture the Flag earlier has him regularly glancing at the forest. The kids seem eager to explore, too, with Dustin practically lighting up when Eddie points out the Haphaestus cabin's workshop, Will and Erica looking wistfully at the pegasus stables, Lucas and Max practically vibrating with excitement when they pass the practice arena, Mike nearly breaking off from the group to jump into sparkling water on the beach, and El tugging on Steve's hand excitedly when they pass the archery field.

The tour ends in the middle of the cabins by a fire pit. A young girl is stoking the fire, keeping it going and smiling softly as the flames dance in front of her. She glances up to meet Steve's gaze, and he immediately recognizes her. He's ready to greet Hestia when she subtly shakes her head and turns back to the fire.

Steve forces himself to look away, studying the cabins, instead. There's one for each deity, and several other groups of cabins are scattered around the area like they keep adding more. A path of mismatched stone has been paved from each one to the fire pit, keeping them all connected.

His attention is immediately drawn to a cabin with a cloud and thunderbolt above the door. It looks kind of like a marble box with huge columns, a domed roof, and bronze doors that gleam in the sun. It looks imposing, and Steve can't imagine anyone actually staying in it.

"That'll be your cabin," Eddie says, pulling Steve's attention away. He grins when Steve looks at him, rocking back and forth on his feet. "And that's the Athena cabin, the Aphrodite cabin, the Morpheus cabin, Plutus, and Nemesis. Each has a lead camper in charge of getting new campers settled."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"Well, the kids will stay in the cabins of their godly parents."

"No. They won't."

Eddie pauses, seeming to realize there's a problem. He looks at the cabins, then the kids, back to the cabins, and finally settles his gaze on Steve. "It's possible to visit between cabins, but we've never had a camper, like, not live in their parent's cabin."

"Has anyone tried?"

"Well. No."

"Does anyone live in the Zeus cabin right now?"

The moment Eddie shakes his head, Steve leads the kids toward the Zeus cabin. He feels a little resistance when he reaches the door, but he stubbornly ignores it and crosses the threshold to find an empty space. Well, mostly empty. He blinks, looking over the alcoves with golden eagles and the giant statue of Zeus in the middle. From the inside, the domed roof has mosaic clouds drifting across it with lightning bolts striking out from them.

"You've got to be kidding me," Steve says, frowning as he looks around the cabin. A cursory glance reveals that there is, in fact, a single bed somewhat hidden behind the statue of Zeus.

"I'd rather not sleep with your dad staring at me," Erica says, frowning at the statue before looking up at Steve. "I'm sure the Aphrodite cabin won't be so bad." Despite her words, her tone is reluctant, implying she'd rather not sleep with a bunch of strangers.

Steve closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to look at the kids. Eddie is at the back of the group, watching him with a curious expression. "Okay," Steve says, his tone immediately getting the kids' attention, "I'm going to ask a question, and I want honesty. Who wants to stay in their parent's cabin?"

A few seconds pass in which the kids all glance at each other, silently asking the same question to see if anyone's answer will be different. When none of them raise their hand or say anything, Steve asks, "Does that mean you'd like to stay in a cabin together?"

The kids all nod, and Eddie looks ready to speak when Steve nods and herds the children out of the cabin. He glances at the fire pit, sees Hestia is still there, and tells the group, "Just hold tight."

He strides over to the fire pit and crouches next to Hestia, waiting patiently. After a few moments, the goddess smiles at him and says, "Hello, Steve. Welcome to my hearth. Would you like a cookie?"

Steve nods and takes the chocolate chip cookie that Hestia offers. He doesn't know where she got it from, but he doesn't question it. "Lady Hestia," he says after taking a bite, "I would appreciate your assistance."

"Your father would not appreciate other children in his cabin," she says, her voice gentle and coaxing.

"The kids want to stick together," Steve says, figuring that should be more than enough explanation.

"And what do you want, Steve?"

Steve is about to answer that he wants the same when Hestia meets his gaze. The words die in his throat as he's forced to actually consider the question. What does he want? He wants the kids safe, of course, and they'll be safest with him. But he also finds himself wanting a space of his own, his eyes glancing at Eddie before quickly looking away. He likes the idea of being alone with Eddie, something that likely won't happen unless Steve can put a door between them and the rest of the world.

He takes a deep breath, the two thoughts at war within him. Before he can say anything, though, Hestia smiles. "I'm sure Lord Zeus would prefer you stay in his cabin," she says, a brief flash of dislike crossing her eyes, "so I will work with it."

"And you won't get in trouble?" Steve asks, wondering if he really needs to worry about a goddess. She's doing him a favor, though, so he can't help himself.

"There is little your father can do to me," Hestia says, shrugging as she waves a hand toward Zeus's cabin. Nothing on the outside changes, but Steve knows the inside has been completely overhauled.

He looks at Hestia and smiles brightly. "Thank you," he says, pausing before digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a pack of gum. "I can give you something better at dinner, but would you like one?"

Hestia lights up and happily takes a stick, carefully unwrapping it before popping it into her mouth. After chewing a few times, she blows a large bubble, grinning when it bursts a few seconds later. "Thank you," she says, beginning to blow another bubble. A breeze kicks up, sending a slight haze of smoke into Steve's eyes, and by the time he clears it away, Hestia is gone.

Steve stands, brushes non-existent dust off his jeans, and walks back up the steps. "Okay, let's try again," he says, flashing a grin at the kids and Eddie before opening the door.

The cabin has, thankfully, changed on the inside. It now has a skylight in the ceiling, allowing sunlight to stream into the room. There are several bunk beds pushed against the walls and three doors on the opposite side of the cabin. Each of the bunks has one of the kids' names carved into it, and the left-most door on the opposite wall has a small sign with Steve's name right in the middle of it.

"How is Zeus not smiting you right now?" Eddie asks, following the kids into the cabin and staring at everything around him.

Steve shrugs, watching as the kids choose their bunks by throwing themselves onto the beds and splaying their limbs out like starfish. He walks over to the three doors. The far right is a bathroom with multiple stalls and showers and the middle is a storage closet with cleaning supplies. He studies the door with his name on it for a moment before taking a deep breath and opening it.

The room inside is large. Like the main portion of the cabin, the room has a skylight. The walls are ringed with real clouds, all of them fluffy and white and leisurely drifting along. In one corner of the room is a small fountain covered in clouds and tiny carvings of women holding urns and smiling. A small bowl next to the fountain is filled with gold coins, and two oversized chairs are set up in the adjacent corner. The opposite wall is covered in shields and swords with one open spot that Steve knows is for his bat. In the middle of the wall, just above the spot for Steve's bat, a large crystal ball hovers, filled with lightning bolts that streak across it.

As Steve takes it all in, Eddie wanders over to the weapon wall and pokes the crystal ball, the door swinging shut behind him. His hair begins to float and stand on end from the static, and Steve snorts. "Don't mess up your hair even more," he says, grinning at Eddie as he bats his hand away.

When their fingers brush, a tiny shock passes between them, an almost imperceptible arc of lightning connecting their fingers before Steve jerks his hand away. "Sorry," he mumbles, frowning slightly. He can dismiss the other two times this has happened (he was surprised by the pool and barely maintaining control outside the camp), but a third time means it's significant, right?

"Don't apologize," Eddie says, reaching out and poking Steve's hand. Another shock passes, and Eddie grins wide. "It's cool."

"It could hurt you," Steve corrects, sliding back a step only for Eddie to follow. He frowns a little more, backing up again. Eddie follows again. They keep this up, amusement budding in Steve's chest and changing his frown into a smile, until Steve is backed up against the wall and Eddie is crowding into his space.

Eddie lights up like he's won and shifts closer. "You wouldn't hurt me, Stevie," he says, utterly confident in his assessment.

Steve snorts, raising an eyebrow at him. "You barely know me," he says.

"That's easily fixed."

"I could be a terrible person."

"You're not."

"I could be. Maybe this is all an act."

Eddie hums softly, leaning closer until their hands are close to brushing and they're inches apart. A low buzz starts to build under Steve's skin, reaching out to Eddie with such desperation that Steve doesn't think before grabbing his hand. Tiny sparks pass between their palms again, and Steve somehow feels himself calming down.

"I don't mind falling for it," Eddie whispers, his smile softening, and Steve finds himself thinking "it" probably isn't the word Eddie actually wanted to use.

He swallows around a sudden lump of nerves in his throat, lost for words and about to just turn to action (kissing seems like a pretty good action right now) when one of the kids bangs on the door. Eddie jerks back, blinking a few times as his cheeks start to flush. "Steve!" Lucas shouts, knocking on the door again, "C'mon, man, we wanna see more of the camp."

Steve swallows again, noting the way Eddie's gaze drops to his throat, and quickly looks away. He pulls the door open, somewhere between grateful for and annoyed by the interruption. "Have you guys figured out who's sleeping where?" he asks, letting himself get distracted by Lucas rolling his eyes and Dustin shouting about Mike stealing his bunk.

------

Tage List

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer, @steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze, @melodymeddler, @lololol-1234, @sageclipse, @steddiehyperfixation, @livelaughlexa, @genderless-spoon

#steddie #steddie fic #semi divine steddie #pjo au #percy jackson au #steve harrington #eddie munson #the party stranger things #stranger things fic #my writing

234 notes · View notes

refloralisation · 2 years

Text

Amazed at the narratives coming out of the dont worry darlings shitstorm. Either Olivia Wilde is a cougar/predator who completely destroyed her marriage and preyed on poor, innocent Harry Styles; or Olivia Wilde is only getting beaten on because misogyny, because she dared to do what men do all the time. Florence Pugh is devil incarnate for not being professional and doing the press tour. Olivia Wilde is somehow a feminist who is now seeing her downfall.

Consider: Harry and Olivia are both adults with presumable intact cognitive functions, have been in the industry long enough to be fully aware of how decent professionals behave, and yet chose to initiate and continue a sexual relationship on set that made their co-stars uncomfortable. Both of them are equally culpable for creating this environment; at all times, both of them could have stopped to think about what they were doing. Harry Styles is not an innocent victim; nor is Olivia Wilde a predator.

Consider: Men having the licence to do dodgy for ages isn’t the argument that you think it is. Some things are dodgy irrespective of who does them. Olivia Wilde isn’t a feminist just because she did what men do. In a professional work environment, any two people being involved in a romantic/sexual relationship does not exist in a vacuum, it is situated in a larger context where unimaginable amounts of money, time and effort are going into creating a product with only a 50% chance to succeed. Instead of engaging in whataboutism, perhaps the conversation needs to be on what acceptable standards of behaviour on a set actually are. How much can you put on “creative synergy” and “creative licence” and get away with? Where should one draw the line?

Consider: Professional behaviour should never violate someone’s boundaries. The derogatory way in which Ms. Wilde spoke about Florence Pugh in that infamous video was extremely unkind and unprofessional. Florence is right to draw her boundaries and go about her business politely. Drawing boundaries isn’t “unprofessional” or “rude”. She’s not obligated to be nice to someone who was rude about them.

Consider: a woman making films isn’t inherently a feminist act. Olivia Wilde isn’t a feminist by the virtue of being a woman in the workplace. We need to ask ourselves tough questions; feminism isn’t a flag you wave around. It is movement, it is a war, it is fighting in a war that won’t end in your lifetime. Instead of sucking Olivia Wilde’s toes; ask yourselves tough questions. How many women did she hire as crew on her set? Did she give equal pay to these women? How much did Harry Styles make compared to Florence Pugh? (Reportedly, Pugh made less than Styles despite being lead, but i can’t find verified sources for this) What about on-set energy? Did she foster an environment that wasn’t only professional but also kind, and gave women the space to express discomfort? Of the women she hired in her film, how many were POC? How many were neurodivergent? What kind of men did she work with during the making of this film?

Glass ceilings don’t get shattered because one white woman who is conventionally beautiful was able to make films. Glass ceilings get shattered when women uplift women, at the cost of labels like “feminist bitch” and “biased” and “d*ke” - when women sacrifice the social capital they would get from men by turning their back on women, and choosing women at each turn (like men have chosen men but that is neither here nor there); by being aggressively, militantly pro women, pro LGBT as well as anti class, anti caste, anti racism etc.

* trans women are women

#dont worry darlings #dwd #olivia wilde #florence pugh #harry styles #shea lebouf #a rant #feminism #film #chris pine #gemma chan #venice film festival

2K notes · View notes

r-f-m-writes · 15 days

Text

Pretty, Dead Animals Chapter One

The shimmering shift of tattoos over refined tendons of muscle made Linette feel like she was being hypnotized as she swept the man's card through the slot on the side of the machine, not even glancing at the amount due.

“Your boss ’s sick, so he leaves a little girl alone to deal with grown men all day? More of a shmuck than I thought.”

The genuine ebb of concern in his tone made Linette’s knees feel wobbly as she handed the card back.

The tip of his index finger brushed against the soft underside of her wrist as he took it from her.

“I can take care of myself.”

When he scoffed at her it wasn’t unkind so much as disbelieving.

"Yeah, kid. I’m sure you think you can.”

Linette’s stomach was swooping itself into hot, excited knots as she stood fixing her hair in the spotty restroom mirror, yanking brown waves out of the claw clip and fluffing out her roots before arranging the tangled mess over her shoulders in a way the looked half presentable.

It had been scorching hot the night before, she’d barely slept. Her under eyes were sunken and blue tinged, she felt groggy and deflated - the clothes she wore had been grabbed thoughtlessly off the top of the clean washing hamper.

Linette didn’t look good, at all, and he had just pulled his black Semi into the truck stop.

He, who had an American accent, a full sleeve of brooding black ink tattoos, and a defined five o'clock shadow that made something primal inside her purr.

He, who had blue eyes, brown hair, and a permanent scowl that etched itself into the center of all her silly, girlish fantasies for the last four months.

He, whose name Linette didn’t know, was mysterious and new and scary in a way that thrilled her from the inside out.

Who could blame a girl for craving something fresh in the monotonous nothingness that came with life in a desert town hours away from anything important?

The shrill ting ting ting of the little ringer at the counter being hit impatiently three times snapped Linette out of her fussing, the girl giving her hair one last pass over in the mirror as she called out.

“Coming!”

The door to the bathroom bumped heavily as Linette hurried out, pretending to dry her hands on the front of her singlet. Blush stung inside her cheeks as she walked toward the counter.

A grunt and the sound of heavy boots shifting on the floor came before his voice.

“Sorry, kid. Thought it was the old fella on today.”

The nickname heated her up. She almost fell over her own feet when the rubber soles of her sneakers caught on the slippery tiles. When she cleared her throat to speak, her voice came out in mumbles.

“ ‘s all good. Ben’s off sick, I’ve been holding down the Servo for him. Pump five?”

Linette lifted her head to look him right in the eye, acting braver than she felt.

He was wearing a cap, gray, with the name of some sports team she didn’t recognize embroidered on the front. His buzz cut had grown out since last time he was at the stop, five o'clock shadow turning into a real beard, all filled out, thick and dark with no irregular patches.

That was how Linette knew he must be older, much older, than her. Boys her age who were trying to grow out their first beards always looked scraggly and gross, like they’d cut off their pubes and glued them to their face in uneven clumps. His beard was nothing like that. He was nothing like that.

Everything about him was mature and distinguished, polished in a finish of radiant masculinity that made Linette want to sink into a dependent puddle at his feet.

Even his mesh of black tattoos looked classic, and tattoos were something that, right up until seeing him for the first time, Linette had absolutely hated; taking them as a red flag of insecurity and a person’s incomplete sense of self.

On him, they looked downright lickable.

Him being the most beautiful man she’d ever seen outside of a TV screen certainly helped compel her intense attraction - but, for Linette, his voice was the nail in the coffin. Low, slow, smooth and rumbling, tinged with an accent she didn’t know how to place. She wanted to listen to him talk for hours.

The spot between his eyebrows pinched as he stooped to lean his elbow on the counter. The cut off black teeshirt he wore looked like it was fighting to stay together around the bulge of his bicep as it flexed while he held out his card for her to take.

The shimmering shift of his tattoos over refined tendons of muscle made Linette feel like she was being hypnotized as she swept his card through the slot on the side of the machine without so much as glancing at the amount due.

The payment was approved immediately.

“He’s sick, so he leaves a little girl alone to deal with grown men all day? More of a shmuck than I thought.”

The genuine ebb of disapproval and concern in his tone made Linette’s knees feel soft as she handed him back his card over the counter.

The tip of his index finger caught off the underside of her wrist as he took it from her.

Linette had to lock her shoulders back to keep herself from shuddering.

Her voice was embarrassed and quiet in her throat when she replied. “I’m twenty one. I can take care of myself.”

When he scoffed at her it wasn’t unkind so much as disbelieving.

“Yeah, I’m sure you think you can. You got anything behind the counter? Pepper spray? A gun?”

He slotted his card back into a neat, folding leather wallet as he questioned her. Linette watched the deft flick of his thick fingers and suddenly her mouth felt dry.

“Nope. Have a panic button, though.”

Pushing the wallet back into the front pocket of his dark wash jeans, he let out a short, humorless huff.

“Panic button. Shit. What‘re you supposed to do between pressing that an’ waitin’ for the cops to pull up? Just gonna stand there, smile all pretty, hope some guy my size doesn't try to rob the place or do what he likes with you?”

Linette was struck silent by the question. She had wondered the same herself countless times, but never came to any sound, practical solution other than doing exactly what he had said; standing still and hoping nothing bad happened to her in specific.

She shrugged hopelessly.

He looked at her. It was a long, strange stare that Linette didn’t know how to understand.

Eventually, he shook his head and sighed.

“What am I gonna do with you, kid?”

#original male character #original character #original female character #original novel #ao3 original work #ao3 writer #ao3feed #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #prettydeadanimals #pda #PDA

140 notes · View notes

shewrites444 · 4 months

Text

earned it part 2 [thomas shelby x mafia reader smut]

[ apologizes for not posting in what seems like ages. i've been working and in school so i haven't had much time, but here is a continuation of one of my old thomas shelby imagines i managed to finish up. i loved this trope so much i needed to write a part 2. check out part 1 here ]

word count - 2.3k

[ summary - following the events of part 1, the reader abruptly meets with the peaky blinders at the races to discuss their unfinished deal. thomas takes note of her unkind, frustrated nature, and intends to loosen her up. ]

[ warnings - dirty talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex ]

the front door was opened for me by one of my guards, the ballroom guests granting me several admirable stares and nods, but nonetheless, eyes still coated with fear, given everyone in the room knew who i was. if not, they were about to.

i sigh, reaching into my purse and pulling out a small revolver and holding it towards the crowd.

"i don't plan on shooting any of you, i don't even know you." i begin, hearing the doors shut behind me. "i'm just making a point. i need someone to direct me towards the peaky blinders."

a shorter, scruffy man, who seemed to be the ballroom assistant, walked towards me with his hands up, gesturing me to follow him to another room, down a long hallway, to a shut, windowless door on the right. he opened it for me as i flag off my men to stand outside.

the door opens to a view of thomas and his two brothers, smoking cigars with three glasses of whiskey on the table and a bottle closest to the one brother with the thicker mustache, who i assumed was the oldest, given his drunken look and far more aged face. the three of them look to me, thomas displaying a bit of confusion, while the others smirk, the oldest nudging the other.

"i didn't know they sent us up a whore, johnny boy!" the oldest chuckled, setting down his cigar. "she's a pretty looking one, too. i didn't know italians worked around this area."

thomas coughed to stop his brother from speaking any further. "this is [y/n] [y/l/n], arthur. leader of the sicilian mob. please, have a seat, [y/n]."

i grin, looking to his brothers as their faces redden with embarrassment, their laughter stopping in quite literally, half a second. i sit next to thomas, taking a cigarette and letting him light it. i sigh, looking to his brothers.

"nice to meet the two of you." i say, setting my purse on the table. "i am armed, so i don't mind shooting either of you if you call me a whore one more time."

thomas chuckles, glancing down to look at me, up and down, observing the silk red dress and the black coat that complemented it. he took a sip of his drink. "to what do we all owe the pleasure, miss [y/n]?"

"i think you're a bit late on our agreement, mr. shelby." i look up to him with a serious face. "i wanted you to talk to those men, get them to my state, and it all goes away, hm? that would make life so much easier for our families, wouldn't it? if you did your job. i can't do mine until you finish yours, you know."

he smirks, putting out his cigar. "i think we could discuss this later, don't you think? my brothers and i are sorting through completely different business at the moment."

"well, it seems to me that business was waiting for a woman to suck off each of you. at least, that was their business." i stand up, grabbing thomas's half full glass and sip it nearly full, setting it back down and grabbing my purse. "i would say it's been a pleasure, thomas and thomas's brothers, but it has not. have fun at the races."

i open the door and walk out, back towards the ballroom. arthur immediately looks to tommy, shaking his head and nudging john on the side, the two of them cracking up with drunken laughter.

"you fucked her, didn't you?" arthur leans back, watching tommy look down with a flushed grin. "i'm impressed. i didn't think mob bosses went for peaky fucking blinders. i've got to find myself one now, eh?"

thomas chuckled, glancing down at his empty glass and tapping his ring softly against it. “good luck with that, arthur. last thing she’d want is you.” he stood up, filling his glass before getting out of the booth. he held it up to his brothers. “i’ll be back, boys. business.”

arthur and john laugh, gesturing their glasses back towards thomas before he shut the door. thomas sipped down the whiskey as he walked down the hallways, his eyes darting around the room to search for myself, unknowingly aware that i was in the bathroom fixing the pins in my hair.

it seemed he must’ve talked to one of my guards because the door was soon knocked on and opened before i could even respond. i glance over to thomas, rolling my eyes as he leans against the frame with a smirk. i tuck my hair behind my ears, facing him with a blank expression.

“you are aware i came here for business and business only, mr. shelby. i didn’t mean to interrupt you and your brothers, or accidentally share more information than what was given to your family beforehand, but this needs to be taken care of soon.”

he smiled at me, never breaking eye contact during my words. he gestured his glass towards me before taking a sip. “i hear you loud and clear, miss [y/n], but you’re not the only person i have agreements with, eh? i’m a pretty busy man.”

“and i’m a pretty busy woman, mr. shelby. you’ve mentioned it yourself, in our previous encounter, that i was quite a powerful, driven woman, hm? i’ve got other deals to fulfill other than ours, but i can’t do much until you’ve done your part.”

he walked closer to me, his free hand locking the door behind him. he set the glass on the bathroom counter, stepping close enough to corner me into the countertop. i sigh through my nose, crossing my arms. “just do your job, mr. shel-”

“i will.” he interrupts, leaning down to cup both my cheeks, lifting my face up to lock our eyes. “why don’t you let me do something else for you in the meantime, eh?“

i take his hands and pull them off my face, shaking my head and step to the right towards the door. “i told you i came here for business.”

thomas snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me back towards the counter, his grip still soft enough for me to pull away if i wanted to, but i didn’t, feeling him press me against the counter. he leaned down to kiss me gently, which i returned, feeling his hands slide my coat off in the process of it all.

i reach down to unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants, sliding my hand down his boxers and onto his forming erection, lightly stroking his cock while he reached behind me to unzip my dress. he slides it off my shoulders and it falls to the floor. i step out of it and scoot it to the side, now left in nothing but my underwear.

he broke the kiss, looking down to my nearly nude figure as he wrapped his arms around me, picking me up and sitting me on the cold countertop. he slipped off his jacket, unbuttoned his white dress shirt, and removed his pants, until he too was left in his underwear.

to my surprise, he leaned down, onto his knees, beginning to kiss my lower thighs, trailing his lips towards my inner thighs, softly licking and kissing and biting my sensitive flesh, until he was inches away from my already wet pussy, which was already visibly coating my white underwear.

“you know, i can’t seem to get the taste of you out my mouth, miss [y/n].” he began, reaching his right hand up to push my underwear to the side. “spread your legs for me, won’t you, love?”

my cheeks redden my stomach tightens and i begin to do so, but hesitated after a moment. it seemed this would be more entertaining and worth while if i presented him with a challenge. “what makes you think i enjoyed it the last time?” i smirk, looking down at thomas. “or better yet, what makes you think you deserve it?”

he chuckles, leaning up to face me again, eye level, and kisses me again, his hands holding me by the shoulders. “oh, is that so? just imagine how i’m going to talk to you when you’re on your knees before me, miss [y/n]. you’re going to be begging me to touch you.”

thomas takes me off the counter and gestures for me to get on the floor, which i do after a few seconds, watching him pull his underwear down, exposing his large erection, my face going red as i look up to him nervously.

“no touching you until i cum, so go on ahead.”

i lean closer, opening my mouth wide and sliding him inside and i begin to suck him off, looking up to lock eyes while i pump his cock with my right hand, which quickly collected spit from my mouth. i feel his hand hold the back of my head, pushing me towards him as his cock shoves itself down my throat, making me gag unexpectedly, while he thrusted himself towards me.

he pushes himself deeper down my throat, and i blink, stimulated tears rolling down my wet cheeks as he throat fucks me, my own pathetic gargles and gags weakly muffled through his cock. he smirks as we lock eyes once again, his balls slapping against my chin as he continues, his free hand reaching down to wipe the tears.

“you want to act like you’re so deserving and so authoritative, miss [y/n], but you’ll let me shove my cock down your throat in a minute.” he chuckles, no break in his rhythm. “you’re gonna swallow every last bit of me, eh? well, you don’t really have a choice with my cock so deep inside your mouth anyway.”

he releases his orgasm down my throat, pumping himself through it as he swallow every last drop. upon pulling himself out of me, i gasp, regaining air and weakly standing up with his help. he leaves no time to waste, kissing me passionately and quickly turning me around, pressing me against the countertop and angling my body towards him, pushing his cock into my folds after coating it with my wetness.

i moan loudly, feeling him reenter my warmth, and it feels just as good, if not better, than the last time. he reaches his hand over to play with my clit, which only causes me to arch my body more towards him, sinking him deeper into my pussy. i glance over into the mirror, his face resting aside me own on my shoulder, locking our eyes through the glass.

he presses a kiss against my cheek and snakes his other arm around my waist, pushing himself deeper inside of me, earning a gasp from my wet lips. he grins at my response, leaning my body up a bit to where i could see below my waist. the mirror that sat on the countertop was tall and long, providing me with a view of thomas’s cock thrusting in and out of me, along with his fingers as they played with my already swollen and overstimulated clit. i stare, my whimpers coating the the room while thomas groaned, fucking me so hard that i could feel the tip of his cock in what felt like my lower stomach.

“i-i wanna watch you cum inside me, thomas. i wanna feel you inside of me.” i moan, my hands holding the edges of the counter. “please fill me up, fuck, please!”

he nodded more to himself, looking me in the eyes through the glass once more as he held me tighter, fucked me harder, and moved his index finger on my clit though a circular motion, the two of us reaching our orgasms soon in harmony, his filling up my insides within seconds of release. he slowly pulled out of me, my own wetness coating his cock and small remains of his cum dripping from my pussy, down my thighs.

i watch him grab a towel from the rack to the side of the toilet, wiping my cheeks and my mouth and then wiping off his cock. he handed it to me to wipe off my pussy, and i then tossed it into a basket of towels aside the rack.

“begging to finish inside of you now, eh? seems someone is losing up their high nature, miss [y/n].” thomas teases as he begins to get dressed.

i shake my head, biting my lower lip as i do the same, slipping on my dress and turning around for him to zip it up. “let’s pretend i didn’t ask you to do that, if you’re going to rub it in my face, mr. shelby.”

he leans down to hand me my coat, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a cigarette, gesturing it towards me and then lighting it for me. he begins to smoke as well, opening the door for me to leave first.

“perhaps the next time i’ll be the one on my knees, if i deserve it, hm?” he jokes, looking down at me with a smirk as i scoff, rolling my eyes.

“i wasn’t lying about that, mr. shelby. you want to taste me so bad, i’ll be the one fucking you like a whore, but that is an act i don’t think a man like you is quite ready for.”

he shakes his head, now upon reaching the room his brothers were still in. he takes my hand and kisses it lightly, his other hand on the doorknob. “i’ll finish my side of the deal this week, miss [y/n]. next meeting of ours, i’ll be ready to see what you have in store for me. i’ll see you then.”

“if you say so.” i grin, winking before i turn the other way and walk back towards the bathroom where my guards stood. i wipe my mouth and hold my head high as i walk down the stairs and towards the doors of the building.

i wasn't someone to give up authority so easily, but thomas shelby was something and someone else. i couldn't even imagine how our next meeting would be after our deal concluded, but whatever it entailed had to involve me having the upper hand.

#smut writing #x yn #x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic

112 notes · View notes

dreamdaddymorpheus · 2 years

Text

Don't Blame Me | Dark!Morpheus Headcanon

pairing: dark!morpheus x human!reader warning: dark themes, yandere tendencies, major gaslighting a/n: a continuation of this request and an actual attempt at a headcanon this time. honestly idk how i got here lmao i was trying something new but the writing style is just all over the place :'D i might just stick to what i know but it's done so have it anyway fml you can actually pinpoint the exact moment i gave the fuck up lmao

Morpheus, true to his word, will never refuse you – bar leaving him. That isn’t to say he won’t bargain with you in exchange for your affection. You want freedom to explore The Dreaming? Sit on lap for an hour every day. You want to visit your friends or your family through their dreams? Grant him a kiss. You want to visit the waking world for a day? Spend an entire day with him.

You are to address him as ‘Husband’ or ‘My Love’ at all times. He won’t accept any other terms and if you don’t want him pouty and sulky for days you will learn to oblige him.

He will never force you to lay with him against your will. He will be very tactile with you, of course, run his fingers through your hair, brush his thumb over your lips, pepper your shoulders with innocent kisses – but he will heed you without question as soon as you say ‘No’.

You will never escape him. The sooner you realize that the sooner you’ll see you are, in fact, the one with power over him. He will do anything to please you and gain your love again.

If you have yet to accept him, he will be extra possessive of you and any being he sees to be closer to you than him will be perceived as a threat to his position in your heart.

You learned this the hard way after visiting a friend through their dream and openly expressed how much you missed them. It wasn’t particularly intimate or affectionate, but Morpheus had been most displeased.

“What more must I do to gain even a sliver of your affection?!” He roared then. You remember walking into the heart of his palace to see him sat at the bottom step of his throne, eyes shining with resentment and his lips pursed petulantly. “I have disappointed you, I admit, in keeping you here but what can the waking world give you that I cannot?”

You stared at him in disbelief. Disappointed? Does he truly think you are merely disappointed? “You know what will make me happy.”

Rising to his full height to tower over your from, Dream of the Endless hardens his countenance as well as his heart in the face of his love, “Freedom? You think freedom will make you happy?” You hated the clear mockery in his voice as though you were asking for the impossible. “Very well then, my love.” That should have been the first red flag. Morpheus has never once relented when it came to the subject of your freedom. He bends down to plant an open-mouthed kiss on the top of your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

The King of Dreams then moved his open palm close to his mouth. He merely returned your look of confusion with a small smile before he exhaled a deep breath, sending a flurry of sand your way. The last thing you heard was “I exist only to serve you.”

Then…freedom. You remembered waking up in your bed, in your room, in your flat. It was bliss. Things were as you left them. You had your friends and your family. At first you feared Morpheus would make himself known to you again and rob you of the joy mundane life brought you. But he never came. Not even in your dreams. That should have been the second red flag.

Things remained the same for a long time – until it wasn’t. It started with little things, like your friends having dreams of you being unkind or inconsiderate. Silly things like that. At the beginning they would share it with you, and you’d all laugh about it. But the dreams would persist, later extending to you being violent to them. Then they’d wake up with physical evidence. What if they weren’t just dreams? They’d all wonder to themselves.

It wasn’t much different for your family – only their dreams would be memories of you. At first, they’d recognize the little changes made in the dream, but they’d experience it each night that eventually it would subconsciously replace their memory and perception of you.

Like that time you went swimming with your cousins when you were all teenagers and one of them almost drown through no fault of yours. Well, now it was your fault.

Or that time your grandmother fell down the stairs and you were definitely at work when it occurred. Well, someone recalled seeing you at the top of the stairs, looking down in delight.

In time your family and friends would slowly turn against you no matter how many times you would try to refute their claims. No, you did not try to seduce your sister’s fiancée. No, you did not hit your nephew. No, you did not kill the neighbour’s cat.

You felt everyone’s stares and heard their whispers, in your hometown; at work; in your building. You felt the weight of their judgement.

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do any of it!” But the more you insisted the more it sounded like the ramblings of a mad woman. “You have to believe me!” They didn’t believe you.

Your family later institutionalised you, thinking it for the best. Poor Y/N. What happened to her? They’d gossip amongst themselves.

It was when you were sitting in the middle of a padded room with a straight jack forced upon you, a punishment for your misbehaviour, that you finally called out to Morpheus. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

“Oh, my beloved wife” you heard him say not long after, voice far too sweet to be genuine but you didn’t even care to notice in your grief, “What have they done to you, my sweet” you’d feel a ghost of a hand brush down your cheek, “The Dreaming weeps for its Queen, as do I. Mortals do not deserve you.”

“Please, Morpheus, I want…to go home.”

You thought you heard him purr, but Morpheus had yet to show himself. “Is that truly what you want, my love? I do not want to deprive of you of your…freedom.”

“I was wrong.” You could only continue to sob, so utterly betrayed, “I-I thought they cared…I thought they loved me.”

He materialized in front of you then in a swirl of sand, clad in his glorious robes of black, “Oh, but none could love you as much as I.” He bent down to cup your face in both hands, “Let me worship you, my Queen, as you rightly deserve.”

If you enjoyed this you might enjoy Fire on Fire, a Morpheus and Scarlet Witch!Reader. Very 'you and i against the world' with a dash of 'villain will sacrifice the world for you' vibes lmao (morpheus is not a villain, but he could be for you 👀)

#tag:my work #tag:headcanon #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #morpheus imagines #morpheus x reader #dream x y/n #dream x you #dream imagines #dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #netflix the sandman #the sandman imagines

2K notes · View notes