Friends?
Luke Castellan x reader
"Hey, you alright?" Is all you heard from your best friend, the golden boy of the camp, Luke Castellan. You were snapped back to reality by him waving a hand in front of you.
You had been zoning out a lot lately and you had no idea why, maybe it was because of your anxiety. You spent a lot of time overthinking and worrying about you and Luke. What exactly?
Well...the thing was that, you and Luke had been best friends ever since you came at camp. You had been unclaimed for a while and Luke was usually the one who guided you around and made sure that you felt included. Since you were unclaimed, you both hung out a lot in the Hermes cabin, getting to know each other better and sometimes even helping the other hermes kids with the pranks.
You soon developed a huge crush on him which you tried hiding most of the time. It didn't help that he was around you always, sitting beside you during breakfast, helping you train with your weapon of choice and even sitting with you near the strawberry fields.
For a while you thought that he liked you too, but you were still paranoid about this and so decided to not have any high expectations. What if he was just being friendly? What if he saw you just as a sibling? (Since you were unclaimed)
These 'what ifs' never left you and you often zoned out as you thought more of these "possibilities" that could ruin the friendship you two had.
"Yeah im fine, just a bit tired" you reply to him. It was a lie, of course it was. You were too busy thinking to notice his gaze upon you. "Was today's practice too exhausting? Take a rest day tomorrow, yeah?" His voice was laced with concern. You chuckled at his reaction, why did he care about you so much? You looked at him, trying to find the answer in his eyes, when you didn't, you simply replied "No, I'm good. I like practicing" The truth was that you liked practicing with him. He smiled at your response, his eyes crinkling up a bit, something you had loved about his smile.
You both said nothing for a while, the evening breeze hitting you both with a sweet strawberry scent as the sun dipped below the horizon. The sky was painted various hues of pinks, reds and yellows.
"Okay then, tomorrow afternoon, practice with me, sound good?"
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a/n: Thank you so much for reading ❤️❤️
To be honest this was the first time I have ever written a fanfic. I know it was a bit short so please let me know if i should continue this. I would love to make a part 2!!
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Btw if you’re searching for a question I don’t have one this is just an essay on how and why I love you ❤️
You are amazing. You have have absolutely ruined Harry Potter fan fiction for me because no other fanfics are as good as this one. Like, seriously, this is better than most novels I’ve read.
Besides the obviously stunning jily storyline, I really like how you have written the Sirius/remus relationship. I honestly don’t mind whether you go the wolfstar route or not, because as much as I love wolfstar, I think a lot of fanfics use it as an excuse not to give a complex relationship to these characters and just ‘they love each other they would die for each other’. Sirius and Remus deserve better than that. In the original series, they are some of the most complex and honestly the most damaged characters.
I was so pleased when I first read the prank chapters almost a year ago (god, has it been a year? It feels like yesterday). I was mentally preparing myself for a big dramatic fight, followed by a big depressing tale of distance, followed by a big dramatic reunion of love and everything being forgotten. And not shitting on those stories at all… but they just feel so unrealistic? Your story feels like something that would actually happen, and I feel like both characters reactions felt so perfect and understandable. I love how the prank completely destroyed their relationship, and now through events in the book, they are building that trust back little by little. Maybe with something more? Lol, no this is canon to me now, honestly whatever you choose I will be 1000% supportive because these characters are your babies and the world is so lucky that you deign to share them with us.
Every time you upload a chapter I create a dozen alternate endings in my head, guessing what the next chapter will be. And yours is 10 times as good every. Single. Time. Probably my fault. I get wrapped up in Sirius and lily friendship stuff and forget other characters exist. When you uploaded schoolboys and their secrets, I felt like I was in a dream lol.
Anyway, I’m so excited for the next chapter, but absolutely no pressure. I just think you’re amazing and was kind of bored so figured I would write to my favourite person on the planet. Sorry if this is kind of long.
Thank you so much for these kind words, truly 🥺❤️❤️❤️
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"Mums, Yer Boys" reaches 10,000 reads!
10,000 reads for "Mums, Yer Boys are Cryin'" which is a terrible title but a sweet story from 'way back when I first started writing fanfics -- this one was meant to be a one-shot, like everything else I'd written up til then, but somehow the story of the teenaged Paul searching for John after Julia's death turned into a second chapter where he takes control (and care) of both John and a dour, miserable Mimi and that turned into a chapter about how empty and lonely their lives feel and then suddenly it seemed like I had absolutely no control over the story of these two young characters:
There is 17 year old John Lennon -- wild in grief, angry, lashing out and desperate to find a place where he belongs, desperate to figure out HOW to find a life he can stand to live, in a world where he can never fit in to. With Julia's death he is pretty much convinced he has nothing, is nothing in this miserable post-war Liverpool world. He is mean; he is funny; he is profane; he is needy.
John can't see or identify his targets but he sprays his anger like a machine gun, not caring where it hits.
There's is 16 year-old Paul McCartney, precisely the opposite -- self-contained, private, all tucked in on himself and watchful. He is constantly on the lookout to see how he can control what is going on around him. He carries his own anger -- both at Liverpool and the world around him -- but it's entirely focused, better-directed, and dangerously quiet. He is kind; he is watchful; he is bossy; he is anxious; he is forgiving.
If John is a machine gun, Paul is a suicide bomber who keeps resetting his timer.
Together, both of them find a safe place to put their heartache, and the first stirrings of a longing that neither of them fully understand yet, but are tentatively ready to explore.
There is Mimi Smith, cold, snobby, snippy, unable to show herself (or the depths of her love) to her troubled nephew, and repeatedly thrown off her guard by the sheep-eyed, common boy who never lets her off the hook.
There is Julia, present only in death -- at her laying out, where John falls apart; at her funeral, which Paul attends while all in his head.
There is Jim McCartney, stern, too quick with his hands, but capable of compassion, and even to admit his own failings, in time.
There is George Harrison. A bit grubby. Always hungry, easily called out but a sure friend.
There is even Auntie Jin and her bowlful of "Irish witchery..."
I've always been very grateful that people like this story, which probably could use some editing but I've never touched it. It just kind of tumbled from my keyboard and has always felt "true" to me in a way I can't explain, so I've just let it be. THANK YOU for reading it, and for some really wonderful, encouraging comments.
You can read the whole story at A03.
And truly, thank you for reading this story and keeping it alive. Some it helped to build "Carry that Weight."
This talented artist created this image several years ago. Not for the story but ... it really is perfectly suited to the final chapter.
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Hello, first of all, YOUR WRITING IS GOD’S WORK, second of all, I need a second part of “I know it’s thick”, bc that took me out 💀 It was fucking fantastic. And last but definitely not least, you seem very sweet, and like an amazing person, keep up the good work 🥰💕👏✨
"I know it is thick." - Part 2
Pairing: Boss!Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader
Summary: It is thick, and now you know it.
Warnings tags: SMUT SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE, blowjob (m receiving), public sex, under-the-desk blowjob while jill is in the room, porn with feelings (sorta), carlos always brazilian in my fics (foda-se capcom ESSE HOMI É DO BRASIL), translations at the bottom
Author's Notes: ANON YOU ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!! the idea came to me while reading your ask and i was like WHY NOT? again, bear with me since smut is still a constant work in progress. also thank you so much for your kind words and requesting with me, i hope i deliver! <;3 @cerezzzita aqui miga 💖
part 1 | my carlos's masterlist
You would never have guessed you would end up like this. You see, after sending that text message, you thought you would have been fired or sued for sexual harassment within Carlos's rights.
Not that by late Friday night, you would be doing extra work. And by that, it means your legs spread apart, holding yourself back in the cabinets of the stockroom as your boss Carlos pounds into you, his big hands holding your hips with such strength it would probably hurt tomorrow. Not that you cared: since this whole thing started three weeks ago, you have discovered you had muscles that ached that you didn't even know existed.
As Carlos's ball hit against your ass, the slapping sound sounding pornographic to your ears enough to drive you crazy, you hold onto the cold shelves, your legs barely keeping you steady. Every thrust he gives inside you is more powerful than the other, seeming to reach deeper into you. It had to be that thick cock, you thank mentally.
"Are you close?" Carlos wonders, and you imagine his bare ass looks delicious, his social pants on the floor.
You moan a pathetic yes and beg Carlos to touch you, and his hands find you, jerking in that delicious way only he could do it. It is unfair how well Carlos knew your body, although this only started a couple of weeks ago.
Three weeks since you stayed late and found out it was really that thick and you could barely fit in your mouth. Three weeks since this man gave you the best orgasm of your life. Three weeks doing extra work time.
With the way he is rubbing you, you don't take long to cum, biting your lips and closing your eyes to hold back a moan. Carlos gives you two final thrusts before you hear him muttering a curse in portuguese as he cums deep inside your walls. You stay silent for a moment, just the sound of your breaths before Carlos pulls out of you, his semen slowly dropping out of you.
You take a second to straighten yourself, your back hurting (it seems you are taking another ibuprofen tomorrow), when you feel Carlos pass a cloth between your legs, cleaning you gently.
"Oh, mhm, thanks?" You say unsure, and he smiles, giving you his handkerchief, with his initials sewn on it.
Carlos stares at you, wanting to say something. You are a little worried about it might be: yes, what you are doing is wrong, and you both know it. You are worried Carlos might want to end this sooner than later; you know he will have to. Or maybe he will finally invite you out? Maybe, you will end up fucking Carlos in a proper bed, not on top or under his desk.
"I will see you later, then." Carlos doesn't wait for your answer, and you ignore the pain in your chest, his handkerchief just the memory he left on you (along, well, with his cum). Again, this would have to end someday, right? It was just sex.
Two days later, you are under Carlos's desk a little after everyone leaves. You see, you went in there to end it all before Carlos could but, somehow, ended up with you on top of his desk, his head on the middle of your thighs. The things Carlos could do with his tongue were skills out of this world, and suddenly you can't remember what you wanted to do here.
You just didn't want him to stop.
So now, you are just repaying for the multiple orgasms from earlier, you tell yourself as his thick cock hits the back of your throat. It had nothing to do with the fact that you loved sucking him, the sight of his strong and hairy tights, hearing Carlos beg for your name, and how this powerful man seemed to melt in your arms because of you.
There is a sudden knock on Carlos's door, and you both seem to freeze. You look up, and Carlos gives you an urgent look, his eyes pleading for you to stay shut. "Please don't say come in," you beg mentally, but the door opens before Carlos can say anything, just with enough time to pull out of your mouth.
"Oh, I am so glad you are still here." Carlos's partner and your other boss, Jill Valentine sounds pissed. Carlos immediately pushes the chair into you, completely hiding your body, causing his dick to get close to your lips.
Jill vents about the challenging project the whole team has been working on, and for your relief, she doesn't pay enough attention to Carlos. Carlos gently tries to keep your head away from his cock, but you don't move. When he looks down in panic, you would have laughed if you could because Carlos knew exactly what was going through your mind.
When you test by licking the tip of his cock Carlos has to hold himself back against the chair, Jill still doesn't seem to notice. You try again, this time swirling your tongue around it, and Carlos curses.
"Puta merda."
"Did you say something?" Jill wonders, and you hold back a laugh.
"Puta merda this project huh, Jill?"
Jill continues her rant as your head goes down into Carlos's cock, slowly and torturous. Your boss has to hold himself into the table, his knuckles turning white as a low whimper dies down in his throat. His hands look for your head, you don't know if to pull you away or push you more down, but you don't stop.
"....and I am telling you, if this doesn't get solved by the end of the week, I swear I will cancel this whole deal!"
"Puta que pariu!"
"Well, I am glad you agree with me!" Jill exclaims, slamming the table. She finally looks at Carlos, who is sweaty, his chest rising up and down as he bites his lips.
"Carlos, are you okay? You look feverish."
"I-I am fine, Jill. All good. Just sh-sharing your frustrations, that is it."
Jill thinks she heard a strange, slurping noise after Carlos says that, but the sound stops. Her phone rings before she can ask what it is, and she groans, frustrated.
"You know, we shouldn't work this late. Life isn't just work, you know?" Jill expresses, before leaving his office, waving goodbye.
You can hear the door closing, and Carlos roughly pulls out of your mouth. You gulp, anxious, wondering if you finally took too far and Carlos will end it all, when your boss's face appears under the table to stare at you, full of desire.
"You want to play like that? Fine. Let's see how long it takes for you to gag on my cock." Carlos' voice is low and threatening, bringing chills all over your body, especially your heat.
"Challenge accepted, boss."
Puta merda = Holy shit
Puta que pariu = Holyfucking shit
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Fully support your desire to cut down on the extras as they're already so long, but as someone who was also looking forward to the sickfic section and is sad to hear it's been taken out, I will simply have to ask you about it instead! First off the discussion of home in the snippet you shared was delicious - when do you think Mav started thinking of the house as 'their' home? And Ice taking Mav to the hospital has a lot of crunch there around how they're seen and how they act in public, especially if Ice was worried and Mav was kind of out of it. Do you think Ice would have taken Mav in to the hospital if he'd really been spiking a fever and decided he needed it? How would he explain themselves? And I suppose a separate, related question: who are their official next of kin/emergency contacts?
the reason i got rid of the sickfic is cause all those questions were answered better elsewhere in the extras ❤️
i was kind of annoyed that the house inconsistently appears to be the property of whomever the plot calls for at the moment -> another reason to cut the sickfic
Yes Ice would take mav to the hospital. it happens elsewhere LOL, maverick is extremely incident-prone
obviously a fun surfing injury with friends != the sickfic’s ice taking “a friend” to the hospital in the middle of the night for dangerous levels of illness-related dehydration… implies familiarity, intimacy above everyone else… the hospital staff would probably assume they’re together, yes, & i don’t think ice would challenge that at all, especially if he had to make sure all the paperwork was filled out right. just not worth the effort. “is there anyone else we should call for mr mitchell?” / “Um no. Just me.” Yeah i took him to the hospital at 4am bc i love him and im worried about him what r u gonna do about it 🤨 violate his hipaa rights? It’s 2009 gay people exist grow up🙄 hospital staff isn’t gonna tell anyone, so who cares
(Luckily for ice in the sickfic he didn’t have to take mav to the hospital)
the point of the sickfic was to establish a precedent for one of them voluntarily taking care of the other who is unable to take care of himself, to set up the parallel of maverick taking care of Ice when he Really gets capital-s Sick. but then i still can’t bring myself to write ice actually being capital-s Sick because i have some weird neurosis where i simply dislike thinking about ice (powerful guy) being helpless or incapacitated or, um, dead. so the mav-sickfic isn’t really relevant anymore because i haven’t written (and never plan on writing, besides that one half-assed one-shot) the corollary ice-sickfic. so the sickfic became the Nixed-fic ❌
And according to this wip wednesday snippet, they are each other’s emergency contacts. don’t ask me how that works or how they figured that out, idk. some stuff you do have to talk about for logistics purposes i guess. which is kind of the point of all the house-related/money-related discussions I’ve written throughout my fics—they Have to talk about the logistics because that’s real life. But they don’t INTERPRET those logistics or assign them a normative value.
for instance debriefing presents (maverick’s) death & taxes as the only two things that ever get them to actually talk to each other lol. logistics become a vessel through which they can talk about their situation without actually talking about it. The state of being each others emergency contacts might be a death-and-taxes discussion—acknowledging permanence without acknowledging permanence
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