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cupid-styles · 2 days

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bodyguardrry x stripper!y/n?

pink pony club

in which harry is a bodyguard at the club y/n dances at

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: spicy content, minor violence, a small unwanted touching scene, smut (thigh riding, spitting, dirty talk, breast play, one "sir" mention, minor slapping......I think that's it gkdfjgkjd)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry doesn’t care much about his job.

He’s not all that interested in working night shifts that start at 8:30 p.m. and don’t end until 4 a.m. He’s not tempted by the constant flow of alcohol, the endless lines of powder that decorate the bartop and booth tables, and the half — and sometimes fully — naked girls that make their money by twirling around oiled up stripper poles and sweet-talking businessmen.

His job as a bodyguard is simply a means to an end. A paycheck. A way to survive.

Unless Y/N is working.

The second she started at Pink Pony Club, it felt as if his world brightened up. She emitted an effervescent pink hue everywhere she went, bathing Harry in it with her bright smile and sweet eyes. He’s always kept a special eye on her — while he didn’t care for the logistics of his job, he took the safety of the dancers seriously, and Y/N was no exception. In fact, maybe she was the exception.

He was the only dancer he watched. She was the only one he spoke to. His pretty, shy, pink girl.

When she took one-on-one dances in the Red Room, he was the guard she asked to accompany her. He never minded. No, he dropped everything to be there with her, even if it meant standing there stoically, watching as she grinded on the lap of a man that would tip her too little.

If it were him, he would never take her perfect presence for granted.

He would sit back and let her take her time. Shower her in every compliment his brain could churn out. He’d comply with the strict no touching rule, but god, if his hands wouldn’t tremble at his sides. He’d have to sit on them to stop himself from doing something stupid.

Sometimes, it’s what he wished those grimy men would do. Like this piece of shit, who’s been shelling out hundred after hundred dollar bills to keep Y/N locked away in the Red Room all night. It’s been hours and the guy can barely keep his head up straight. From Harry’s spot in front of the door, he can tell Y/N’s tired and in need of a break. And when the song comes to a crawling end, he’s ready to step in and tell the guy to get lost, but he’s already digging in his pocket for his wallet. Harry grits his teeth as he watches Y/N’s shoulders fall.

“Another one,” the idiot mutters, stuffing three hundred dollars in the waistband of her panties. Y/N jerks away from his touch and the man stills, flashing her a confused expression. “What? I’ve paid you your entire yearly salary tonight and I can’t put some fuckin’ money in your panties?”

Harry’s fists ball up at his sides, already taking heavy strides towards them as Y/N’s mumbling out, “you’re not allowed to touch the girls.”

“Oh, give me a fuckin’ break,” he wails, sending a look of disbelief to Harry, as if he should agree with him. “This girl’s a cocktease!”

Harry snorts and Y/N shuffles off the man’s lap. He stands in front of her, creating a physical barrier between the two.

“You heard her, you’re not allowed to touch any of the girls. Doesn’t matter how much money you’ve paid.” Harry says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you gonna get lost or are we gonna have a problem?”

The guy rolls his eyes. “You’re telling me you’re always here watching over this one and you’ve never once copped a feel? She’s out with her fuckin’ ass and tits out and you—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever disgusting sentence was coming out of his mouth because Harry’s already pulling him up by the shirt collar. The guy yelps as Harry’s strong grip yanks him off the couch and he scoffs, resisting the urge to spit in his face.

“Disgusting piece of shit.” he mutters, throwing him up against the maroon velvet wall. “You know that? You think you can fucking talk about her like she’s some kind of object?”

“She’s a stripper!” he exclaims, raising his hands up in mock defense.

“I don’t fucking care,” Harry growls, “She could be an escort for all I care, but you don’t touch anyone without their fucking permission. Especially her. Do you fucking hear me?”

“Yeah, man, whatever! It’s all good, I promise!”

“Oh, it’s all good?” he mocks, keeping him pushed up against the wall with his hand up against his chest. His other arm cocks back and his hand forms a tight fist, his knuckles white as hot adrenaline courses through his veins. He’s ready to beat this guy until he’s unrecognizable — until he hears it.

A small, quiet whimper of his name.

Immediately, he turns around. Y/N stands behind him, looking small and helpless with glassy eyes. Again, she repeats his name. “Harry,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s not worth it, I don’t wanna lose my job. Just let him go.”

And just like that, he does.

He lowers his fist, his hand unfurls around the cheap fabric of his button-up, and he’s free to go, scrambling out of the Red Room before Harry has the chance to tell the other bodyguards to escort him out. But he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the teary eyed girl with trembling fingers.

“Baby,” he breathes, fear surging through his chest as he wraps a tender arm around her waist. He sits onto the crushed velvet bench and pulls her into his lap, keeping a soothing hand placed at the small of her waist. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She quickly shakes her head, allowing the tears to flow a bit more freely now. “I-I’m okay. Just scary.”

“I know,” he mumbles, biting his lip. “Was it— did I scare you?”

“No, no. I know you were just… trying to protect me.” she says softly, blinking her eyes at him.

“I was, sweetheart. I promise. I would never do anything to hurt or scare you.”

She nods. “I know.”

“How much longer do you have left of your shift? I can take you home. You shouldn’t be working when you’re upset.”

Y/N glances down at the watch around Harry’s wrist, nibbling on her bottom lip as she thinks. It’s already 2, which means the club closes in less than three hours.

“Just another hour. I can make it,” she replies as she straightens her posture in his grasp. “I’m just… I don’t think I’m ready to go back out there yet.”

“That’s fine. We can stay here as long as you’d like.” And he’d certainly knock out anyone who threatened to give her shit for it.

They sit in silence for a bit and Harry keeps a protective arm looped around her waist the entire time, drawing soft circles into her exposed hip. He feels relief at knowing that she doesn’t express discomfort at being in his arms and frankly, if it were up to him, she’d never leave them.

Harry’s torn from his thoughts when she runs her fingers over the expanse of tattoos that cover his arms. Glancing down, he watches as her manicured nails slowly float from the anchor on his wrist all the way up to the ship on his bicep. He swallows, staying impossibly still as she analyzes the ink. Eventually, she lands on the cursive A on his shoulder.

“Girlfriend?” she asks, peering up at him. He shakes his head.

“Mum,” he murmurs, “Do you have any tattoos?”

Y/N nods. “One.”

Harry’s tongue peeks out to moisten his lips as he maintains heavy-lidded eye contact with her. He’s seen nearly every bit of her skin and prickles form in his stomach, thinking about where her hidden tattoo could be.

“What is it?”

Slowly, she shifts off of his lap to stand in front of him. Using deft fingertips to peel the waistband of her lacey lingerie down, she reveals a simple red rose inked into her skin, just above where her mound begins. Harry swallows harshly at the sight.

“Do you like it?”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Gorgeous.” he mumbles.

“I was thinking about getting another one,” she breathes as she shimmies the fabric just a bit lower. She taps the small patch of skin across from the rose. “An H, maybe.”

“That would be a silly decision, sweetheart,” he says lowly, leaning back against the bench and spreading his legs a little wider. “You don’t want an initial for the guy who beats up idiot losers.”

“I do, though. I love knowing you’re there to protect me.” she replies. Briskly, she climbs back into his lap, this time straddling his waist and placing her knees on either side of him. As if on instinct, he wraps his arms around her to steady her, pressing one palm to the back of her thigh.

“I’ll always be there to protect you,” he mumbles, chest tightening as she leans closer. Her lips are centimeters away and it makes his breath catch in his throat. His throat bobs as he swallows, angling his head ever so slightly to minimize the small gap between them, and then he whispers: “Stop me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not,” she’s so close to him that her breath ghosts over his plush lips, “Kiss me. Please.”

That’s all he needs to seal their lips, her shaky hands finding purchase at the back of his neck. It feels so special to have her hands on him as their lips meld; slowly at first, and then she’s straightening her back to push her chest forward, desperate to be closer, closer, closer.

It feels like their only source of oxygen is coming from one another. Harry’s hands grip her ass firmly, squeezing the plump skin in his palms. He’s content with keeping things here at a steady PG-13 level until her wet mouth breaks away for just a moment, only long enough to murmur, “touch me, I need it.”

A groan oscillates from his throat as his hands travel down to her neck, her shoulders, her chest, and then finally her breasts. His hands find the covered peaks of her nipples and she inhales sharply, shuddering beneath his touch. He smirks as he settles on the right side of her chest, using his thumb to gently brush over her nipple. She straightens her spine and leans into the sensation as he slowly rubs it back and forth.

"Always gonna keep you safe. You know that?” Harry mumbles into her mouth, licking at the seam of her lips. Her eyes squeeze shut and her thighs threaten to close around his wide, spread legs. “Uh-huh,” she nearly whines. He swallows as he watches her, noticing her quick descent into desperation. He gives her nipple a soft squeeze before quickly pausing to unhook her bra and toss it to the floor. He resumes his teasing just a moment later, leaning forward and attaching his lips to the hard bud. A quiet, shaky mewl falls from her swollen lips. He parts with a pop but only to spit messily onto the peak. She gasps when he takes her nipple into his mouth again, hissing as he bites the skin. It’s not hard or long enough to elicit any real pain, just a sweet sizzle in her stomach that makes her tug at the curled ends of his hair. He chuckles softly at her reaction before licking over the bite and tucking the bud back between his lips. Once he’s gotten his fix, he removes his hand from her breast and moves it up to her mouth. "Open." he commands. As if under a spell, her bottom lip drops open and Harry pushes two of his fingers inside, pressing them down against her tongue. "Dirty little mouth, hm?" He murmurs. She nods submissively and he grins, "Suck." She closes her lips, encasing his long fingers in her mouth as she begins to slowly bob up and down, taking them further. His fingertips make contact with her throat, eliciting a short gag as the muscles contract slightly around them. Quickly, he removes them. "Did I hurt you?" She shakes her head and reaches up to wipe away some of the drool that had escaped her mouth. "No. I like it." "Are you lying, baby?" He asks, moving her hair over her shoulder, "This isn't fun for me if you're just doing what you think I want." "I'm not lying, I promise. I like it." Harry's lips curl into a smirk. "Tell me what else you like, then." As she opens her mouth, he shifts his thigh between her legs, the muscles flexing firmly against her core. She gasps, though Harry pretends like he hadn't done anything, instead nodding at her shortly; an encouragement to follow his directions. "I like gagging on your fingers." She whines as he begins to move his thigh back and forth, just slow enough to create some friction between their bodies. "Yeah? What else do you like?" "You," she whimpers, gently rocking her hips against his jean-clad thigh, "When you keep me safe.” "Ah, my pretty baby likes feeling protected?” She nods as she begins to quicken my movements. He stills her hips but before she has a chance to whine about it, he mumbles out a "budge up, baby" so he can slip her panties off her legs. She resists the urge to hiss at the contact, her stomach tightening at the feeling of his thigh muscle against her. For a moment, he inspects the sodden underwear, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You made quite the mess in these, baby. What got you so turned on?” She swallows harshly, her chest shaky. “Y-you. Seeing you threaten that guy for me.” He smirks but decides to leave it at that, feeling the desperate warmth radiating from her core. "Go 'head," he mumbles, leaning back. "Let me see you use me." She feels her hole contract at his words, mentally cringing as he chuckles. He feels how needy she is and he absolutely loves it. Slowly, she starts to grind against his thigh, holding in pathetic whimpers at the solid surface making contact with her clit. Harry tsks when he notices her roll her lips into her mouth. She looks down as he moves his hand towards her lower half, momentarily excited that he’ll pet at her the way she’s craving. The dream is short lived when he parts her pussy lips instead to look at the wet mess between them. "Don't hide your sounds," he scolds, pressing the pad of his fingertip to her clit, rolling it in small circles. "They're too pretty.”

She nods, prepared to continue her movements when she gasps out in surprise. Harry had delivered a swift slap to her clit — not painful enough to ask him to stop, but just enough to deliver a sizzling sensation to her core. "Tell me you'll moan for me." "I will, sir," she whines, rutting helplessly against his hand. He smirks and pinches the skin at her inner thigh before nodding again, a wordless order to continue. Hesitantly, she rocks her hips, building up a slow and intentional pace that hits her clit at the perfect angle. She’s dripping now, embarrassingly so, and making a mess both between their legs and on Harry's, but she’s too turned on to care. There’s something about knowing he’s watching her get off and doing exactly what he asks of her that sends her to another dimension. It’s not long before she feels a familiar tightening in her stomach. They’d built each other up and up and up, teasing one another until they could barely stand it, so she’s not surprised when her muscles started to clench, pathetic gasps falling from her swollen lips. "Is my good girl gonna cum?" Harry teases from beneath her. She nods jerkily, her nails digging into his stomach. "Let me see. Cum all over my leg, baby. Make a mess." Harry's dirty talk is finally what does her in. With a few more rocks of her hips, she’s in heaven, whimpering out calls of his name as she peaks. He holds her hips to keep me on his leg as she bounces helplessly through her orgasm, her eyes slowly blinking open to find a smirk on his face when she finally begins coming down. "You're heaven sent, y'know that?" he mumbles. Y/N laughs breathily as she shakes her head, her blushy gaze falling to his lap. He thumbs at her bottom lip and gently nudges her chin up. “Lemme take you home tonight,” he whispers, cupping her cheek in his palm, “I wanna take care of you.” She nods. “Yeah, okay. You’ll wait for me to finish my shift?” “Of course,” he murmurs as he presses his forehead against hers. “Always.”

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cannedpickledpeaches · 5 hours

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Insert Your Name (12)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven!

Notes and TW: Last chapter! Side stories will follow. Thank you for sticking with this series for so long! This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

7:30 P.M. DD/MM/YYYY

I thought I knew the truth for a while—that this world existed inside a story. That this was a world which revolved around a nameless, faceless, flawless main character. This entire world around me existed to serve one purpose: to present trials to the main character until she eventually finds a happy ending with her one and only. This world was created for “(Y/N).”

I was Friend A. Friend A was never mentioned again after page two of that story.

It turns out that I was sort of wrong. This world is made for stories, from stories, and (Y/N) happened to be the main character at the time. Now that I’m the author, I made myself the main character.

You wrote “story” and “world” so much that they hardly look like real words anymore. The tip of your pen hovers over the first page of your journal. It’s your first time keeping one, and you aren’t certain how to proceed. What tone do you use? Should it be informal or professional? How long should each entry be? How detailed should you make it?

The trapdoor to the attic flips open. Floyd’s head pokes through it like a garden eel in the sand.

“Whatcha doin’ over there? Still lookin’ for that manuscript?”

You shake your head. The manuscript for (Y/N)’s story disappeared without a trace after your meeting with Hans. No matter how hard you searched, nothing turned up, so you could only assume he retrieved it.

“No use in looking for it. I’m starting on my journal.” The pen twirls in your hand. “I’m not really sure how I want to write it.”

He hoists himself up and saunters over to where you’re curled up at the window. He peers at your handwriting. Flippantly, he flops on the floor next to you and yawns.

“Who caaares. Write whatever ya feel like writin’. It’s not like the one before was any good.”

The previous author’s manuscript was riddled with inconsistencies, plot holes, and grammar mistakes. It wouldn’t be a massive problem. Hans would simply have to work harder to fill in the gaps.

“The previous one failed, though.”

“Then just don’t fail.” He grins up at you. “Easy, right?”

You pinch his nose, laughing when he swats at your hand.

“Easier said than done.” Despite that, his words ease the burden on your shoulders just a bit. You don’t need to overthink this. It’s your story, yours to tell however you’d like. “Thanks for the advice, though.”

“Sure, sure.” Your name rolls off his tongue dismissively. “You worry too much.”

You glance at him. “You’ve been calling me ‘Red Handfish’ recently, why’d you switch back to my name?”

The lamplight glints in Floyd’s eyes briefly, then he closes them. A lazy grin spreads on his lips.

“I was calling ya ‘Red Handfish’ ’cuz I was hopin’ you’d get your hands all red and bloody again.” A huff of air escapes him. “Shoulda been there when you beat up the security.”

“Typically, you’re supposed to not hope I’m beating up your men.”

“It’s fine. Not like Jade and I need much protectin’.” His voice quiets down to a mumble. “You’re enough for security or whatever.”

His voice trails off at the end. Soon, quiet snores fill the attic. Seeing that he isn’t planning on disrupting your writing, your attention returns to your journal. Following his advice might not be a bad idea.

My main priority was to break the curse on Mr. and Mrs. Leech. I thought I’d have to ask (Y/N) to reach out to Vil Schoenheit or write something in this journal, but it turns out I didn’t have to do anything. Hans went ahead and nudged the odds in my favour already. At least, I suspect he had a hand in it. But I’m never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I’ll happily accept that Walrus’s team and our own people have found a way to break the curse.

Azul was slightly disappointed that he didn’t manage to find a method on his own. He really wanted to put the twins in his debt, but I guess he’ll have to sulk. His specialty is potions, after all. Not curses. He’s also a little salty because this implies Vil Schoenheit is still more skilled than him on the subject of curses. His competitive nature never dies down when it comes to other competent people, even after all these years.

Anyway, the curse was undone three days ago. They’ve woken up perfectly stable and healthy, if a little tired. The twins have spent nearly every waking hour in their room. I’m glad they’re all looking much more lively.

Their parents wanted to go right back to work, but Jade and Floyd have been very insistent on making sure they rest. Right now, Jade and his parents have decided to split up the work equally, but Jade plans on eventually relinquishing his position as the temporary head of the Leech Mafia. He doesn’t want it back anytime soon. His parents might want him to keep observing their work, but I think he’ll take a long breather after the Carpenter Mafia dissolves. He says he wants to join a research lab on fungi. I’m sure he’ll enjoy himself there.

Speaking of Jade’s interests, Floyd owes him quite a bit for breaking his terrariums. You cast a glance at the twin dozing off on the floor. Jade’s been working him hard. Just as you’re about to pull a knitted blanket off the window seat and drape it over his torso, Jade climbs up to the attic.

“Ah, I thought I might find you two here.” He ignores your shushing motion, speaking nearly louder than his usual conversational volume. “Have you made any progress on that journal?”

“Keep it down, Floyd’s sleeping.”

“Oh? I suppose he is.” He smiles as though he’s entirely innocent. “Even though he should be running an errand on the west side of the city right now. Isn’t that so, my dear brother?”

Floyd stirs, brows furrowing as he grumbles. “Fuck off, man.”

“I’m afraid you’re late. Why don’t you head out? It wouldn’t do for you to procrastinate.” Jade leans over him, his shadow eclipsing Floyd’s face. The latter gripes some more before rolling away and hopping right through the trapdoor. His footsteps echo through the halls, eventually leading to the sound of the front door.

“He’s tired. You should let him rest.” You close your journal and set it beside you.

He kneels by your seat and rests his head on your knee. Gingerly, you reach out and comb your fingers through his hair. His entire body melts against the wall and your knee.

“I am also tired.” His eyelids drop halfway, a pitiable pout on his lips. “Much more so than he is, I’m sure.”

“And what? You want a gold medal for the Fatigue Olympics?” Despite your words, your other hand holds his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Come on, get off the floor. It can’t be comfortable.”

He sighs in contentment. “With the way you’re touching me, I have half a mind to stay where I am.”

You’ve come to realize that Jade acts this way when he’s looking for attention, and he only actively looks for attention from you. With a sigh escaping the smile on your lips, you ease his head off your knee and move your legs so that your feet touch the floor. He has the gall to look like a kicked puppy.

“You’re so dramatic.” You pat the cushioned space next to you. “Sit up here.”

It’s like his fatigue disappears as soon as you extend the invitation. He wastes no time in sitting next to you, his thigh pressing against yours. One of his hands reaches behind you. You feel it causing the cushions to shift under you as he uses it to support his weight. Strangely, it feels more intimate than if he had touched you directly. The knowledge that his arm is there creates a sense of security. Sturdy, safe, like the face of a cliff that has your back. He’ll never be a threat to you. You think back to what you once thought of people who trust Jade, and you wonder if you’re a fool, desperate, or if you have something on him.

It might not be so bad to be a fool once in a while.

You lean into his side and rest your head on his shoulder. A pause, followed by the light pressure of his cheek against your hair. His body is cool to the touch like always, and you find comfort in it.

“I’ll help you make new terrariums to replace the ones Floyd broke.”

“How kind of you.” The hand behind you lifts, only to find its place on your waist, securing you to his side. “In that case, I should consider what I’d like to grow in them. Lichen would decorate some surfaces well, but I doubt it would be possible.”

“Lichen?” You often see it back home near the shore. “Why not?”

“It cannot survive in a closed system like my terrariums.” His voice lowers to a soft, almost sweet tone. “It requires clean, fresh air, outside the confines of a box that I control. The charm of keeping a terrarium is that I control every factor within it, down to what lives or dies. But despite the fact that it eludes my grasp, I adore observing its beauty in the environment where it thrives.”

Somehow, you don’t think he’s talking about lichen anymore.

“Lichen grows on trees and rocks, right?” You think about the cliffside. Patches of pale green life covered the rocks where you met Jade. It brought a sort of earthy, rustic quality to the area. “It’s pretty. I think I’ve seen a few of your photos focusing on it.”

“Yes, it needs to be anchored to a sturdy surface.” He adjusts his grip on your waist. “Unassuming, allowing other elements of the scenery to shine, but charming and effective in its own right.”

You don’t want to ask if he’s referring to you. He’ll surely tease you for being self-absorbed. However, you are not so prideful as to not acknowledge what he’s trying to say.

“I sort of understand wanting to be anchored to something.” You place one hand over his. “It’s easier to let my guard down when there’s something that can protect my back.”

“Allow me to assist you with that.” He intertwines your fingers. “If you must be anchored to something, I’ll be more than happy to provide you with support forever, until you ask me to stop.”

“All this talk about ‘forever.’” A grin pulls at your lips. There’s no harm in teasing him once in a while. “It’s like you’re trying to marry me. What’s with that, huh?”

His entire body freezes. You lift your head from his shoulder, trying to look at his face.

“Jade? I was joking—”

He gently presses against your temple, his wrist blocking your eyes as he guides your head back down to his shoulder. What a letdown. This time, you really wanted to see his expression.

“Incidentally,” he says, “would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“You changed the topic way too abruptly.” Laughter bubbles in your throat. “I thought you were better at making conversation than that.”

“I’m inclined to disagree.” He doesn’t elaborate. “Are you free tomorrow evening? We can book a reservation for that restaurant you wanted to try.”

Usually, you wouldn’t turn it down. But . . .

“Sorry, I’ll be out with (Y/N) all day.” You’ve missed her. And after she called you in distress over losing the polaroids you took together, you promised to replace them with new ones. There’s so much you have yet to do with her. “Maybe the day after?”

Jade sighs loudly, as though he’s the most pitiful being in the world. Amidst teasing laughter, you close your journal and focus your attention on him. It’s alright to take your time writing it. Your story is a process that does not need to be rushed. It may only be a page at the moment, but one day, you’re sure this journal will fill with your experiences, plans, and thoughts. You will continue on living as your own person—not a side character or a main character in a grander scheme, but as yourself. To live as a human being with your unique experiences—that is your story.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst jade #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #twst fanfic #mafia au #floyd leech #multi chap fic #slow burn has burned #thanks for reading so far!

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steviewashere · 3 days

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hello!! steddie and 38 for the kiss prompt?? 💕

Hey, hey! <3 As a heads up, you might hate me for this. Everybody might hate me for this, lol. But here we go <3

Number 38: "Because they're running out of time."

CW: Eddie Munson Nearly Dies Here Tags: Season 4, Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends Steddie, Friends to Strangers to Friends?, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Love Confession, Near Death

🕰️—————🕰️ When they structured the plan to go back into the Upside Down, Nancy had suggested that Eddie and Dustin team up for the demobats. Now, Steve loves Nancy—not in that way—but he thought that that was one of the dumbest things he’d ever heard come from her mouth. And she’s incredibly intelligent, like mad scientist level intelligent, surpassing everybody on this earth kind of intelligent.

“Dustin should go with Lucas and Max,” he argued, “and I’ll stay with Eddie.”

The room had fallen silent. Until, Robin piped up, “But we’re going to need your pitching arm, Steve. That—We need somebody to throw the molotov cocktails.”

He scoffed. “No, you don’t. Robs, you used to play softball before getting on the soccer team. You two will be perfectly fine without me. And, besides, if things go haywire—Abort. Walkie on your channel, and we’ll fucking take our losses and replan all this bullshit.”

While the room had erupted into an intense argumentative cadence, Steve held his ground. Looked to Eddie. To his panicked eyes that had not once calmed since they met—again.

Steve knew what he was getting into when they found Eddie. They hadn’t been friendly and sweet on each other since middle school. Since being little kids, but that didn’t mean Steve wouldn’t at least try again. That he wouldn’t put up a fight and demand to be put in Eddie’s corner. So he held onto this, held out on this change in plans, because Eddie looked back on the sofa. He looked to Steve with something like…longing. Like he wanted to reach out and take Steve’s hand. And if the room hadn’t been full of people that just wouldn’t understand, Steve would’ve taken the plunge. He would’ve indulged.

He should’ve indulged, now that he’s kneeled on the ground in a pile of limp demobat bodies. Eddie is in his arms, blood soaked and babbling. And Steve wishes they could start again.

“Keep looking at me, Eds,” he pleads, “look at me and…and tell me one of your stories. You’re good at that. Can you do that?”

For a moment, Eddie’s breath catches. And in those grave seconds, Steve thinks it's over. He brings his hand, which was laying over Eddie’s waist, and places it on his chest. On Eddie’s slow beating heart and his rattling lungs. And he presses. As if, by his touch alone, Eddie would continue to live.

Steve wants him to live. Wants to get him out of here. Get him to safety and hold him and clean his hair and go swimming in Lover’s Lake like they did as kids over the summer. Take Eddie by the hand and go hiking through the woods, turn over every rotting branch to look at worms, and be gifted with rocks Eddie deems cool enough. Ride their bikes until their legs ache and their stomachs are sick and they’re craving lemonade and cookies. Wants to love on him forever because he was a fool; gave it all up for…what…popularity?

Eddie gasps wetly. Coughs up blood from the back of his throat, it drips sluggishly down his chin. Instinctively, Steve cradles his jaw and wipes it all away. Until it’s tacky and red on his own skin. Then, Eddie’s eyes sweep over to him. He blinks. Cries silently. And states, quiet enough for only mice to hear, “’86 is going to be my year, Stevie.”

“Yeah?” Steve prods, breathless and on the verge of crying himself. He thumbs at Eddie’s tears. “Tell me, Eds. Tell me how it’s gonna be your year.”

Another rattling, wet breath. “Graduate,” Eddie mutters, “and…and play with the band. I was—G’nna go to y’r house. Give…Give you a sunflower. You…My S’v’ie likes flowers.” He stares up at Steve, but Steve doesn’t feel very looked at. Like maybe Eddie’s seeing something beyond him, above him. He bites his lip and cradles Eddie’s jaw again.

“I do,” Steve whispers, “I loved when you gave me flowers, Eds.”

He sniffs and tries not to think about the dried petals of flowers he kept over the years. Ones that he stashed away in old books given to him by Wayne. That reside in his dresser drawers and in a cardboard box in his closet. Tries not to think about taking Eddie home with him, after all this is over, and showing him all the things he kept.

How, in moments where Steve felt lost, he pulled out the rocks and books and other trinkets, and wondered. Where Eddie was. What he was doing. Why he forced himself away from the only friend, sans Robin, that felt real.

“S’eve?” Eddie weakly calls.

He only hums, pressing his thumb deep into the going cold skin of Eddie’s right cheek.

Eddie reaches a clumsy hand up to Steve’s face, but doesn’t quite reach. So Steve ducks closer. Lets Eddie pull him in towards his face. Wipe away his own tears. Caress the few moles by his ear.

“I love you,” Eddie breathes. Inhales with a gurgle and Steve sobs in turn. “Love you, S’eve. Wanted…Been wantin’ you for forever.”

“Eds…”

In one fell swoop, Eddie pulls Steve in all the way. Noses along Steve’s. Then, with the strength of a newborn deer, he presses his lips to Steve’s. They’re slick with blood and drying tears. Chapped, split at the corners. He moves slowly while Steve tries not to devour. Eddie’s hand drapes over the back of Steve’s neck, neither grasping nor safe anymore. But he kisses. Like…

Like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it.

Maybe it is, Steve realizes in those few seconds. Because Eddie’s breath grows shallower, raspier between them. He gurgles blood into Steve’s mouth. And that’s tasted on Steve’s tongue, metallic and sweet and harmful. Maybe it doesn’t need to be.

Steve forces them apart. Lets Eddie try and drag him back, but doesn’t go back to that kiss. “Save…Save it, Eds,” Steve begs, “Save it for when we’re home and—I can show you how much I love you, too, okay? Can you—“

“Can’t,” Eddie slurs, “I…S’v’ie.”

He presses another soft kiss, this time to Steve’s thumb, where it’s still close to the split corner of his mouth. But he doesn’t look back.

“S’v’ie, love you.”

“I love you, too, Eds,” Steve murmurs meekly. “I’ll take you home, okay? I can—“ He takes a sharp gasp, sobbing through an exhale. “—Kiss me tonight. You stay with me and kiss me,” his voice wavers, “kiss me like we were never apart.”

“‘M’kay.”

“Okay, Eds,” Steve sighs, crying softly, “okay.”

Though it pulls on all his injuries, Steve hefts them up off the ground. Grimaces at Eddie’s pained yelp. And moves one foot after the other. They can’t be running out of time, Steve tries to digest.

Because he just got his boy back. They can’t be. I can’t be, Steve believes, hefting Eddie’s nearly limp body through the portal. I won’t.

🕰️—————🕰️ Kiss Ask Game <3

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst #love confessions #near death

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lacroixqueen · 3 days

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embers and earth ch. 1 (zuko x jin angst)

Summary: jin finds out "lee" is actually firelord zuko, the new leader of the fire nation. angst and mental breakdown ensues

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: zuko x jin

Tags: angst, jealousy, yearning, prince x peasant

Author's Note: this was inspired by fan art but I for the life of me cannot find the artist's name just if you are out there just know you inspired this fic so thank u :v

Jin was absolutely furious the day that she found out.

She remembered being over the moon the night before when the Earth King announced that the Hundred Year War was finally over. That the fire nation inherited a new leader who would forge peace between all four nations at long last. She recalled sleeping a little bit more deeply that night. A sigh of relief. A breath of fresh air.

She even had a pep in her step when she ambled into the main marketplace of the Lower Ring in the morning. For the first time in her life, she didn’t need to worry about her safety. She remembered having to escape with her family when fire nation soldiers attacked her village when she was only a little girl. The fear in her father’s eyes. Her mother holding her tight and telling her not to make a sound when she cried.

But today was a new day. A fresh start.

She was picking out the ripest cabbage in the stall when she noticed a couple of Dai Li agents putting up posters around the square. She swore to herself she saw a glimpse of a face that looked all too familiar for comfort. She almost didn’t want it to be true. Because if it was, it would confirm too many questions she would stay up asking herself over and over again.

A small crowd was already beginning to form around one of the posters. She eventually elbowed her way through and made it to the very front. And there it was.

Firelord Zuko. Future of the Fire Nation. Forging an era of peace.

Except it wasn’t “Zuko”, or whoever that was. It was Lee. The boy with the scar from the tea shop. She reached out reluctantly, as if she touched the poster he would come walking off the page. She placed the tips of her fingertips over the purple scar that ran across his triumphant face.

But it’s not possible. Lee said he was of the Earth Kingdom. A traveling circus, was it? Now that she thinks of it, it did sound a little bit too barbaric to be real. But none of that mattered.

She was fascinated by him. She hung onto his every word. Even though it’s not like he had much to say in the first place.

After their date, she remembered how excited she was to see him again. She planned out an entire day with him in her mind, replaying the scenarios in her dreams like she was the director of a play. She recalled feeling a bit ridiculous about it, like some giddy fangirl. But she didn’t care. She had never wanted anything more in her life.

But surprise quickly melted into confusion, which devolved into anger.

How could he? she thought to herself, trying to piece together the puzzle but it still didn’t make any sense.

The last time she tried to reach out to him, she burst through the doors of the tea shop, wearing her heart on her sleeve and ready to confess her undying love to him, without so much of a care in the world. But he was gone. In the blink of an eye, tossed away into the wind.

“Where did he go?” she asked one of the workers, almost dissociated from reality.

“To the Upper Ring,” he replied, sweeping some dust out of a corner. “His uncle got a job offer to run his own tea business. The Jasmine Dragon, was it? Yeah something like that.”

She felt her own blood run cold. She would only ever occasionally venture up to the Middle Ring, but Upper? She wouldn’t stand a chance. She would be ushered out as quickly as she came in. Not to mention she had no idea where this new store was even located.

She was inconsolable for several days, of course, but in the back of her mind she knew she couldn’t cry forever. Because time heals all wounds, as her mother would say.

And she eventually moved on, even though there was always longing within her that she could never quite shake. An ache that pulsated every time she remembered that she would most likely never see him again.

Her thoughts were beginning to spiral at a rate of a million miles per second. Was he lying to her that entire time? Was that what he meant when he said “it’s complicated”?

She paused, her entire body frozen.

Was that how he lit up the lanterns at Firelight Fountain?

She couldn’t even process what was happening, but next thing she knew, she had already scrunched up that stupid poster, much to the crowd’s bickering and dismay, and shred it all up into several pieces.

Tears were beginning to bud at the bottoms of her eyes. So that’s it. He was a firebender this entire time. But why lie about it? Why keep something so important from her, when he knew how much the fire nation had hurt her family.

Why was she acting like some sort of dramatic schoolgirl? It’s not like they were officially together or anything. It was just one silly date. Why did it mean so much to her anyway?

She walked briskly home, attempting, but failing horribly to conceal her tearstained face.

She opened the door to her modest home, without even bothering to close it gently, and stormed up the stairs to her bedroom.

“Jin, were you able to get the vegetables I needed?” her mother called from the kitchen but she wasn’t even able to muster up a response.

She flung herself onto the cot splayed out in the middle of the floor, grabbing her pillow and holding it close to her chest.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she kept telling herself. Why did she care so much anyway? It doesn’t even matter. None of it.

Lee or Zuko, what difference did it make?

He was still going to be a million worlds apart. Whether that was the Jasmine Dragon in the Upper Ring or the palace in the Fire Nation.

She could weep and yearn for her entire life, and then what? He would just descend into the dilapidated shacks of the Lower Ring and sweep her off her feet? She knew the chance of that happening was zero to none. So why hope? Why cling onto this tiny shred of faith that had no meaning otherwise?

She played with the thought a little bit, after all, she was a hopeless romantic at heart. But the fantasy dissipated as quickly as it formed.

It’s best to forget any of this ever happened, she decided for herself after an entire afternoon of contemplation. There’s no use in staying in the past. Besides, he probably never thinks of her these days. He’s busy running his own country, and creating a new era for the world.

After all, why would some Earth Kingdom peasant ever cross the firelord’s mind?

#atla #avatar netflix #avatar the last airbender #zuko #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #atla zuko #jin x zuko #zuko x jin #zuko x reader #zuko fanfic #zuko fic #zuko atla #the gaang #atla gaang #netflix avatar

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scoonsalicious · 2 days

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Bonus: Iron Man 1; 1/?

So, I decided to re-watch Iron Man tonight, and I started thinking about how Pocket would fit into existing MCU narratives. So, here's a little bonus, taking place during the first Iron Man movie. This might turn into something, it might not. For now, just a little fun thing I did, mostly so I could write more Pocket/Tony (even though she hasn't been given the nickname 'Pocket' yet). Enjoy!

“Only you would fuck a girl who called you a war profiteer,” you told Tony over the video call from your office in New York. “She still upstairs?”

“Miss Potts should be taking care of her right now,” Tony said as he fiddled with the engine of his 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster in his Malibu garage.

“How’s that working out, anyway?” you asked, your interest piqued. “She’s lasted loads longer than any of your other personal assistants.”

“She’s good,” Tony said, taking a piece of the car’s engine out and putting it aside. “Very efficient.”

“I like her,” you told him. “I think she’s been good for you.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t need her if you just moved out here permanently,” he told you.

“And just leave the New York office to Obadiah Stane? I don’t think so,” you said.

“I don’t know why you hate him so much, Kiddo,” Tony said, turning his focus away from the car and fully onto you.

“He’s the one who hates me,” you clarified. “I’m just matching his energy.”

“I think you’re reading too much into it. He’s a little wary of you, that’s all.”

“He hates that you nominated me for Chief Technical Officer,” you said. “He officially opposed the nomination in front of the board.”

Tony frowned. “When the fuck did that happen? Why wasn’t I informed of it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe if you spent a little less time shooting craps and fucking Vanity Fair reporters, and actually attended a board meeting every once in a while,” you said.

“I’ll talk to him,” Tony assured you.

“No, don’t,” you protested. “It’s bad enough he thinks I’m just another one of your fangirls. The last thing I need is for you to make a demand on him for my sake.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he asked you. “This job is yours– it should be yours. You’ve earned it.”

You sighed. “And I appreciate you saying that. Thing is, I’m not going to prove that by having you tell people. Only way it’s going to happen is if they see what I’m capable of, and if I leave New York for Malibu, they never will.”

“Did I ever tell you you’re very annoying when you make a valid point that goes against what I want?” Tony asked you.

“Frequently. All the time. Why do you think I enjoy doing it so much?”

“You know, I think I liked you better when you were just a stripper,” he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him through the video feed. “Yeah, well, whose fault is it that I’m not anymore?”

“You could always join my flight crew, if you ever wanted back on the pole,” he teased.

“Please,” you scoffed at the suggestion. “You call them dancers? They should be ashamed of themselves.”

“Hey now, what they lack in rhythm, they make up for in other… areas,” Tony smirked.

“Do you ever get tired of being a giant slut?” you asked affectionately.

“Not yet, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Maybe second,” you told him.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I don’t know– maybe you should tell Miss Potts first,” you grinned. You looked behind him to see the woman in question coming down the stairs through the glass door behind him. “Speaking of which, it’s her birthday today, so be nice.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “How the hell do you know that?” he asked you.

“I pay fucking attention, dumbass,” you said.

Pepper Potts entered the basement, talking on the phone. “You are supposed to be halfway around the world right now,” she said to Tony as she tapped something on her tablet.

“Hey, Pepper,” you called.

“(Y/N), hi,” the other woman said. “How’s the nomination going?”

You shrugged. “Oh, you know, just roadblocks from the patriarchy. No big deal.”

Pepper nodded understandingly at that.

“How’d she take it?” Tony asked Pepper, interrupting your conversation.

“Like a champ,” Pepper offered.

“Which translates to ‘like an obnoxious bitch,” you chuckled. Pepper winked at you over Tony’s shoulder. “You owe her a raise, Boss,” you told Tony.

“You give a raise,” Tony said. He directed his next words to Pepper: “Why are you trying to hustle me out of here?”

“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago,” she told him.

“That’s funny,” Tony said as he continued to play with the engine of the Roadster. “I thought with it being my plane and all, that it would just wait for me to get there.”

“This is the flight to Afghanistan?” you asked, and Pepper nodded at you.

“I mean,” Tony spoke over you, “doesn’t it defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?”

“Ignore him, Pepper,” you said, turning to face your computer monitor. “Tony, if you don’t get your ass to the airport right now, I’m going to hack into JARVIS’s system right now and swap all your playlists from metal to nineties bubblegum pop.”

“You wouldn’t.” Tony said, standing up and wiping his hands on a towel.

“Don’t test me, Boss,” you threatened. “This is a huge-ass contract.”

Inside Tony’s garage, the opening notes of Hanson’s MMMBop began to play.

“Fine, enough! You win, you tiny monster!’ Tony grunted, throwing his towel down.

You immediately cut the music. “Get on that plane,” you warned him. “I’ll know if you don’t.” You gave him a Look. “And Pepper, tell him to stop pulling your pigtails, okay?”

Pepper blushed, but she just nodded.

“Give Rhodey a hug for me,” you told Tony, “and let me know when you land, you absolute dipshit.” You disconnected the call.

“You know,” said Tony, turning back to Pepper, “sometimes I regret ever meeting that kid.”

Pepper smiled. “No, you don’t.”

Tony grinned at her. “No, no I don’t. Not even for a second. Now, about that Jackson Pollock painting…”

#unwanted bonus

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apollosfavkiddo · 9 hours

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⛧° Cooking classes with Uncle Leo

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: leo valdez x fem!reader blurb

warnings: probably cursing, bad spanish, not proofread. ig that's it?? lmk!!

a/n: i didn't really like this, but i'm posting it anyways lol. dedicated to covey and @/pinkdiorluvr cuz i know they both love leo hehehe

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

You never learnt how to cook. A disturbed childhood with a shitty mortal dad was not the best place to get cooking lessons. Or to learn anything, on that matter.

The point is, cooking skills aren’t something you possess, and that annoys you beyond limits. That took you to asking your best friend, Leo Valdez, for cooking classes. Which he immediately accepted. I mean, who wouldn’t want to teach your crush how to cook?

"So, when can I go to your house?” You asked, which made him snap back to reality from just admiring your features.

“Uh... my house?” He asked, as he completely forgot what you guys were previously chatting about. He was too busy with noticing how the freckles coated your cheeks, and how your black hair framed your face in the prettiest way possible. Oh, he was down bad.

“Are you even listening to me right now, Leo?” You asked, waving your hand in front of his face.

“Uh, yeah, ‘course I am. You were talking about the... cooking classes, right?” He asked, a sheepish smile making his way to his lips. You just rolled your eyes.

“Yes, I am. When can I come to your house, hm?” You asked again.

“Tomorrow at seven sounds good to you?” He asked.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” You answer, smiling softly as well.

“You’re gonna learn how to make the perfect pasta alla carbonara, my dear apprentice. It's one of my specialties.” He said, passing an arm across your shoulders and pulling you to him.

Before you could even pull away so you could leave, he planted a kiss with a loud ‘mwah’ to it and darted off, laughing. You were left confused, blushing and smiling as a toddler who just got a pack of candy.

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

Leo stood in his kitchen, a grin plastered on his face as he waited for his best friend’s arrival. He was looking forward to it, since he knew that it was a chance of absolutely zero percent that this whole class didn’t end in absolute chaos.

He leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers impatiently, trying to figure when you’d finally come, what clothes you’d be wearing, what shoes you’d wear and in which way your hair would be. Would it be down? Would you put it in a ponytail? A bun? A braid?

Oh gods, he was such a sucker for that damned daughter of Poseidon.

Eventually, he heard the rhythmic knock on the door, telling him that you were finally there, much to his happiness.

“Come on, Valdez, it’s freezing out here!” You complained, just when he finally opened the door and you barged inside, escaping the snow from the outside world. You were in a black coat, wine-red leggings, gloves and a cute scarf so your nose didn’t get too cold. “Finally! Thought you’d leave me out there to die.”

“I’d never do that, princesa. I mean, at least not today, I need an assistant.” He said jokingly, poking your shoulder and teasing you as you took your coat off.

“I’m gonna punch you, I swear to all the gods that I know.” She threatened. He just smiled and walked towards the kitchen, with you following right behind him. “So, what’re you gonna teach me today?”

“We’re gonna make the best pasta ever – carbonara!” He said happily as he pointed at the counter, which was filled with ingredients for the dish – bacon, eggs, flour and cheese were neatly organized in the counter, ready to be turned into a meal.

“If this goes wrong, I'm ordering a happy meal.” You complained, putting the things you brought to make your favorite dessert, a classic that you learnt with a Brazilian friend of yours – Brigadeiro. It's actually the only thing that you can cook without burning down the whole house.

“First, we gotta make the pasta.” The latino said, and you grimaced.

“Why do we have to make it? Isn't it easier to just, you know, buy the pasta and cook it?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s easier. But making it is so much fun!” He said, with a smile on his face, and started pouring flour on the counter, making a small tower and soon making a hole in it. Then he stopped and looked at you.

“What? Is there something on my hair?” You asked, brushing off your hair, which made Leo laugh.

“No, no. I need you to grab six eggs and crack them here.” He said, gesturing towards the bowl.

“Oh.” You mumbled and picked up the bowl, cracking the eggs in it and being extra careful with the shell. When you finished, you looked at him with puppy eyes. “What now?”

“Put them here.” He said, gesturing to the hole in the flour. You nodded and poured the eggs there. “Now, you washed your hands, right?” You nodded again. “Great. Now, you have to mix the eggs and the flour until we have a smooth dough; the pasta!”

You just nodded and put your hands to work. It was cute, since you didn’t seem to know what you were doing, and it was just so cute the way you were unsure on whether you were doing the right thing or not.

“You’re doing great, y/n/n.” He assured. If you looked up, you’d see a proud smile on his face.

After a few minutes of squeezing and mixing the dough, it was finally ready. You looked up at Leo’s face, a proud smile on your face and shining eyes. Maybe cooking wasn’t really that bad, after all. Not if you had a good teacher and friend around.

He was starstruck. He couldn’t even move. You were just so pretty, flour all over your arms and hands, a little spot on your cheek white from when you rubbed the back of your hand on your face. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you in that moment.

But he knew he couldn’t. He shouldn’t do it. Couldn't risk his friendship with you.

And yet you were so tempting, so pretty like that. In his kitchen, with his apron – which was slightly too big for your tiny frame – and with him.

“So, what do we do now?” You asked, interrupting the trance he was in. He shook his head and blushed, embarrassed to be caught like that.

“Uh... the- the eggs. We need to make the eggs.” He said, blushing after getting caught staring at you. “You can whisk the yolks while I cook the bacon. Is that alright with you?”

“Mhm. You just need to teach me how to separate the yolks.” You said, with a smile.

You two continued the cooking, with Leo cooking the bacons till they were golden brown and crispy while you whisked the egg yolks and the cheese together. It was a fun night, where you ate the food you made – which was delicious, by the way – and had fun with your best friend.

The only out of the ordinary thing was that the whole time you were there, the only thing you wanted was to jump on Leo’s lap and kiss the hell out of him.

And his train of thought was not that far away from yours.

Don't get me wrong, he loved to spend platonic time with you, of course. But he really, really wanted to kiss you.

‘Oh, for my father’s sake, what I wouldn’t give to kiss her.’

“...what?” You asked, your face clearly redder with his – more than sudden – confession.

You never thought he’d want to kiss you, much less give yourself the hope that maybe someday that’d happen. No, it was selfish, and you knew – or at least thought – that he’d never ever like his best friend.

But here he was, saying how much he’d give in exchange for a kiss.

“Oh, shit- I said that out loud, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Y/n, you can really pretend this never happened, I just-” AAAAAND he was rambling. Again. So, the easiest way out of that situation was, obviously, shut him up with a kiss.

He immediately melted. His hands stopped flying around his face and went to graze your neck and waist, unsure, but ready to search.

It was one of the best kisses you’ve ever had, and it was definitely the most awaited one. His lips were cracked and raspy, and he tasted sweet like the juice you had.

When you finally pulled away, both of your cheeks were red and there was a smile playing on both of your lips.

“I kinda love you.” You admited.

“Good, ‘cause i love you too, princesa.”

#all my love 🍀#postcards from leah #leo valdez #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #cooking classes with uncle leo is up huh #pjo hoo toa #pjo #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader

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my-castles-crumbling · 6 hours

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I have a problem Cas… I think im in love.

Okay so, there’s this girl. We’ve been best friends like 5 years. I mean i’ve always- okay I don’t know how to explain this.

I’m basically a fan-fiction come to fucking life.

So i’m Demisexual, and last year I decided to come out to my family. I don’t know if other Demi ppl have preferences of gender, but I don’t. Honestly labels confuse me. I’m not sure if technically i’m Biromantic and Demisexual but hey, the point is- and what I explained to my family- that i’d be open to dating anyone.

Basically i was telling them I wasn’t straight. (Obviously Demisexual is also about sexual activities and people and stuff but I wasn’t gonna try and explain to my parents that I don’t really get attracted to random ppl- cause they don’t get it- and I didn’t want to accidentally start talking abt sex).

So anyway, they were not happy. Have you watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine? There’s this clip where the character Rosa comes out as Bi and her parents are like “That’s okay, since you can still date a man and marry a man and be normal” and they were like that for me (i’m a girl in case that wasn’t obvious- so they wanted me to date a man).

And I didn’t really care to be honest. I had an equal level of straight friends to queer friends, I felt suitably in both worlds. I truly love my family. They’ve always been good to me. But they did imply if I did end up with a girl, they wouldn’t want to meet/know her.

Not to mention the religious trauma. I spent a shit ton of time listening to ppl tell me that same-sex marriage and relationships are a “sin”. Hell- there was this one rlly lovely women at church when I was like 9, but she got kicked out when they congregation found out she was a lesbian. (Okay- not kicked out but like bullied into leaving).

So it was fine for me to accept that I could potentially date a women since i’ve never felt immediate attraction to anyone, it never felt totally real.

BUT NOW I HAVE A PROBLEM. So my best friend (who is also a girl) of 5 years. She’s amazing. She’s literally the funniest person i’ve ever met, she’s so generous and has helped me so much, and she’s just adorable. She’s like fucking sunshine. And ngl, I don’t often like people who are so cheery all the time because it feels fake and I like people around me to be honest.

But she just, she has this way of finding the beauty in the stupidest things and it’s so cute. We got splashed by a car the other day, drenched both our outfits, and instead of being mad, she got all excited and had us do a photoshoot in our crazy soaked clothes, and then got all excited that we could cuddle under a duvet and watch a movie with snacks once we got home cause apparently that’s the only acceptable thing people can do after being covered in water (which is exactly what we did).

And she’s not unreasonably happy, you know? Like when people try to cheer people up at bad times and make everyone more sad, she’s not like that. Whenever i’m upset, or mad, she’ll doodle these cute little flowers on coloured paper and write things she loves about the world on the back of them, and once i’m done ranting abt how annoying the world is, she’ll give it to me and smile. She has the best smile.

I have this jar, I write the date on them and put the paper in the jar.

We’ve been best friends five years, she started doing that like four years ago and i’ve had the jar pretty much from the start.

It’s always been easy to be around her. We sort of knew each other for like a year, and then I blinked, and we were best friends. I read all the books she gives me even though the plot is super cheesy cause she loves talking about them, I learnt how to bake all her favourite snacks her mum made, cause she’s pretty far from home and honestly a tragic baker. And she cooks dinner (don’t ask how she can’t bake to save her life but is the most incredible cook, it’s unbelievably ridiculous) for us a lot, she learnt to make my fav food.

We technically live together, we’re at the final year of uni (maybe not tho depending on our next courses, I dunno) so we’ve been living together this year, but before that, I basically spent most of my time around her place anyway.

So yeah, we’re friends. But I realised a few months ago that i’m pretty, definitely, in love with her. I think i’ve felt like this for about a year and it just hadn’t quite clicked yet.

(I had this awful day and came back to our place to see her genuinely painting our wall a different colour of white. She paints as a hobby and accidentally splatter a ton of blue paint on the wall and freaked out and tried buying white paint to cover it when it wouldn’t wash of and she was sat on the floor with white paint all over her and the wall still blue.

She told me the story and I burst out laughing. I explained you often need white primer first, to cover the blue, and then to buy the correct shade of white, since ours was sort of chill white and she’d bought bright white.

It’s the type of thing that would’ve annoyed me so much at the end of such a tough day, but because it was her, I just found it adorable. That’s when it clicked, I love her. She noticed I was tired immediately and felt bad cause she realised i’d had a bad day. I said this cheered me up, cause it did. Then we made dinner together and spent the night reading on the sofa with music on.

We went to the shop the next day to get the correct stuff and luckily our wall is back to looking almost exactly the same).

So yeah, I love her. Plus like, being demi, I don’t usually find ppl attractive… I mean i’ve always known she’s aesthetically pleasing, she has good fashion sense and stuff, but like, I tend to view all people as the same sort of level of attractive. BUT NOW ITS LIKE- SHES FUCKING BEAUTIFUL. It’s kind of annoyingly actually. How is everyone not spending all day gazing at her eyes. They’re fucking caramel, like a book character. She says they’re brown but she’s wrong. In dull lighting they seem brown but they’re like dark orange (amber i guess) with little hues of green, but in the sun they’re really bright and caramel and warm.

She’s a lesbian btw. So theoretically I’ve got a shot. Also, i’ve always been good at reading people and I know she’s had like a small crush on me at least twice in our friendship. You can tell sometimes.

But recently, it’s been a wreck. I’m so distracted cause i’m in love with her I can’t think, and my friends keep telling me she loves me back but I can’t keep my head on straight long enough to try and tell.

But. If I do get my head out of my ass and tell her and she does end up wanting to date me, what the fuck am I supposed to do then. Cause if it does work out, i’m pretty sure it’ll last.

My parents never totally liked her (they probably saw this coming- but I think in the homophobic, all queer ppl date each other, way and not the, they’re meant to be together, way) and if ended up having to tell them i’m actually dating a women, they’d be pissed.

I always thought i’d end up with man, since it’s easier. No religious guilt about that. But I can put aside my own brains stupidity for her. But I can’t change my parents. But aside from this, they’re literally amazing. But I also know them and I truly don’t think they’ll change.

All my friends having been saying me and her should’ve been dating this entire time. I don’t know, I like to think now would be kinda perfect. I always knew she was gonna be in my life forever, I guess I just got so used to imagining myself with a man I forgot she was an option? That I could be with her romantically forever. You know, assuming she wants to date me.

(We’ll see about that. I’m really not sure. But i’m totally shit at keeping my own secrets so i’m planning to tell her soon if not just for the sake of my own sanity. All my friends say she’ll reciprocate, if she doesn’t, then I guess i’ll go from there, she’s not the type to be weird or bothered that we live together despite it. And if she does… then I have to decide what to do next. My other best friend is literally always right when it comes to our friends dating lives, and she has faith we’ll end up together, so we’ll see I guess)

But if she does. If she does I’ll have to get into it with my family. I don’t want to lie to them. And I know I shouldn’t judge, but I honestly don’t think they’ll change their minds. I think they’ll say I can come visit whenever, but not bringing my partner. And I won’t want that. And we’ll all argue.

I never liked knowing my parents didn’t accept this side of me, but I guess I never considered it would be an actual problem i’d have to deal with someday.

I spend a lot of my time trying to figure myself out. I haven’t had the easiest path in life. But with her, it’s so easy. It’s easier to understand what I like, it’s easier to talk about things, and I fully trust her not to be weird. Or leave. Or get mad for nothing. I don’t have to walk on eggshells around her. I trust her. We don’t argue much. We have, what she calls, three different type of arguments.

One, “bad mood argues”. She finds it so hilarious that it rhymes. You have to say it with the syllables. Bad-Mood Ar-Gues. We have these cookies in the freezer that we make every month. If one of us is having a bad day, we cook a few cookies to eat and I bought this dumb fridge magnet of a cookie to put on the fridge to signify it’s a cookie worthy bad day.

Another one is “justifiable anger”. That doesn’t happen much. When we first met, she had this tendency to not tell me when I did something that upset her, and it’d spiral, and i’d be mad she wasn’t talking about why she was mad. So we have a rule to always talk about problems, even the little things. For example, her yelling into the phone to her family for hours while i’m trying to study- she has planned days now, so I can go to the library or she can go out if necessary, or keep the convo below 45 min, her mums like half deaf so she does have to shout, but it’s also VERY loud. Basically we comprise. And make sure no anger builds up.

The third type of argument is, what our friends call, “married idiots”. As in, she shouldn’t use the siri talk thingy while driving cause it never understands what she’s trying to say and so I get jumbled texts that mean nothing and then she thinks she’s told me something she hasn’t told me. She’s nearly understanding that one 🤦‍♀️ And you know, the classic colour of something argument (it’s purple- she’s wrong).

Anyway. I forgot my point. Oh yeah, everything’s easier with her. I feel comfortable. If i’m being totally honest… i’m pretty sure if I ask her out, she’ll say yes. Like 80% sure. Im just scared to fuck this up, and cause family problems. Cause yeah, she’s worth the drama, but also, it’s her that’ll be being insulted right? She very likely won’t be allowed in my house. I don’t want this to ruin what we already have.

So yeah. That. I could really do with some advice ❤️

Hi <3

If you do not ask this girl out, I will physically pass away.

Like...I'm not usually so pushy with asks, but you're describing a relationship, hon. This is a relationship. I'm not sure if you follow me because of the Marauders, but you two are literally Wolfstar, And I'm shipping the two of you so hard right now.

If, for some insane reason, she turns you down, it's because she doesn't realize she's in love with you, too.

As far as your family...again, I'm going to be more blunt that usual. You're going to have to face their lack of acceptance for you at some point. It's absolutely shit that they don't accept you, but like...don't let that stop you from being with this girl. Because even if you put off their feelings now, you'll have to deal with it someday, and then you might miss out on an amazing girl.

Please update me. I need updates. I am so invested. I am DYING for updates.

God, I'm rereading all the things you wrote and I'm kicking and giggling. You two are ridiculously adorable. Please kiss her already (with consent).

I'm naming you purple anon. Please write back.

#ask #asks #ask cas #purple anon

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sillygoose067 · 2 days

Text

Over the 7 Seas

Ch.29

Charles Leclerc x Reader

That’s how Charles finds you, nearly an hour later. He leans against the doorframe with his shoulder, arms crossed, a smile playing on his lips. You and his mother had yet to notice his presence, but he preferred it this way. His heart warmed at the sight of you bonding with his mother— One of the most influential and important people in his life. You were laughing with you head thrown back, a few unruly wisps of your hair escaping the elaborate braid you’d styled. Pascale giggled with you, bumping hips with you as you stood side-by-side washing dishes and chopping vegetables.

He heard you switch the topic of your discussion to what his favorite dishes were, an unknown feeling fluttering around from his stomach, traveling up to his heart, which squeezed almost painfully. His mother was explaining how to prepare the dishes while you listened attentively, a faraway look in your eyes, no doubt mentally storing the information. His already painful heart stutters when Pascale leans forward to kiss your cheek with a watery smile. “I can see why my Perceval is so taken with you. Thank you for assisting me today, none of his past conquests have done that”. She grimaces at the thought. “None of them have taken the time to get to know me, or ask about his favorite preparation… I knew you were different. You’re so good for him— I hope that boy will keep you forever if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Thank you”, she whispers in your ear once again, while embracing you tightly.

You part from her arms and clasp it. “Of course, Pascale. I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to spend time with an amazing, strong woman like you. And I plan on keeping your son for as long as he’ll have me.”

The long withheld tears in Pascale’s eyes begin to stream down.

“Oh! Oh no! I didn’t mean to make you cry! Please, what can I do? I’m very sorry!”

You feel her hand come up to caress your cheek. “Nothing my daughter, these are happy tears. Extremely happy tears.”

“Ok, well I um, I just didn’t want your family to think that I made you cry on purpose. They think I’m some attention-seeking whore and hate me enough already”, you mutter under your breathe, but Pascale hears.

She wipes her eyes as they burn in anger. “Don’t listen to them. I’ll be by your side”.

Then, as if the universe knew to lighten the mood, the oven’s timer goes off with a ding! And the two of you go back to giggles and reminiscing about the past.

…

You hear someone clear their throat from the entrance of the kitchen. “Ahem”.

You turn and find a grinning Charles leaning on the doorframe, in a very sexy pose. “Charles! How long have you been here?”

He pushes off the structure and approaches Pascale to kiss her cheek. “Long enough…”

He catches your face flushing. “Don’t worry Chéri, I just came looking for you because you’d been gone so long. I was afraid you’d fled, but when I came to this”, he gestures to you and Pascale. “I was very much relieved and—”

Pascale cuts in, pointing her wooden spoon at him, with a glare on her face. “Charles Marc Herve Perceval Leclerc, if you don’t keep this girl forever and marry her and give me beautiful grandbabies, I will actually disown you and adopt her instead!”

He grins at this. “Ok Maman, but—”

“And you go tell those heathens sitting out there in the dining room that if they don’t clear up their differences with Y/n here ASAP, I will have their heads.”

You stifled a laugh. Charles looks stricken by the sudden change in his mother’s behavior. Nodding as if in a trance, he cautiously moves toward you, as if to not set off his lioness of a mother any further, grabbing your hand and then sprinting towards the door.

“Woahh—”

You hear Pascale laughing boisterously from the kitchen.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #fluff #smut #formula 1

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