#so nico comes over with his face off camera and just starts giving him head scratches

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ slip of the tongue ] n. hischier

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : after a Devils win, Nico gets interviewed in the locker room after scoring his first NHL hatty. he slips up in front of the cameras and mentions his girlfriend for the first time. it doesn't stop her from showing Nico how proud she is of him though ...

warning(s) : smut ! p in v protected sex, oral (m receiving), pet names during sex, language throughout. possibly wrongly translated german (i'm learning)

author’s note : this plot has been in my head for a while so here i am. pls just indulge me w this bc i was having a moment while writing it

18+ below the cut ! MINORS DNI

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(Y/N) swears she won't have a voice come the morning.

As soon as the puck went into the net and the goal horn went off for the third time, she's been screaming in the suite with the other Devils wives and girlfriends. Her boyfriend just scored his first NHL hat trick and she couldn't be prouder of him. They're now up 5-2 on the Sabres with less than a minute left in the game.

Jack and Dawson have a goal each along with Nico's three goals. It's a four-point night for her captain boyfriend since he got an assist on Jack's power play goal. She remains standing until the final horn that signals the game is over. The Rock is buzzing as the Devils give Vitek some goalie hugs.

She records when Nico is announced as the first star of the game for his four-point night. The crowd cheers as loud as they did when Nico scored the hat trick. Her lips hurt from smiling for nearly ten minutes straight.

As soon as Nico skates off the ice, (Y/N) makes her way down to the players' lounge room that the wives and girlfriends usually hang out in before and after the game. She hangs out with Vitek and Erik's wives as she waits for the players to come in after they've changed and showered.

Notifications start coming through about a half hour after going to the players' lounge. A lot of notifications. New followers, lots of likes and comments on Instagram. A lot of mentions on Twitter. She has no idea what's going on.

(Y/N) reads one tweet that's in her mentions that has a clip attached to it.

vina @/hischiers i knew there were rumors but nico hard launching his relationship after the game was not something i expected to happen today of all days

She clicks on the clip of Nico in his postgame interview and watches it.

Amanda Stein asks off camera, "Did you have any friends or family present for the game today to witness your first NHL hat trick?"

Nico doesn't hesitate to reply, "My girlfriend came to her first Devils home game today." He smiles and bites his bottom lip. "Yeah, she, uh, this game was really special for me because she's here and she got to witness my first hat trick in person." He blushes and doesn't stop smiling in the clip.

"Oh my God," (Y/N) gasps as the clip restarts.

They never talked about going public with their relationship. They've been dating for about seven months. Nico is one of hockey's most popular players, and (Y/N) has seen how loved he is among the fans. She's basically a no one from Newark dating the captain of a hockey team in the NHL.

The players begin to make their way into the lounge area. They make their way to their wife or girlfriend or really whoever they invited to the game. Her eyes are on the door as she waits for Nico to come in.

Jack and Luke walk into the room with Nico five minutes after the rest of the team does. They're deep in conversation but she can't help but run over to her boyfriend and basically jump into his arms.

Both Hughes boys both laugh as Nico catches her and she wraps herself around him completely. He wraps his arms around her torso so she doesn't fall.

"Congratulations, baby," she says against his hair. It's still damp so he recently showered. "I'm so proud of you."

"Guess you're my good luck charm," he laughs in reply. (Y/N) pulls back so she can see his face and he looks genuinely happy. "I play a lot better when you're in attendance."

She shakes her head and smiles. "I think that's bullshit," she tells him. "There's a reason you're one of the league's best players since you came back from your injury. It's not because of me."

"I think you should come to more games anyway," Nico says. "Clearly I like when you come to games."

(Y/N) laughs and rests her hands where Nico's shoulders meet his neck. "I'll come to games whenever you want," she replies. "You like to show off when I come."

He smiles and nods. "I gotta show off for my girlfriend," he retorts. "Especially when she looks so good in my jersey."

"Flatterer," she laughs before she leans down and captures his lips in a soft kiss. Nico laughs into the next kiss before she pulls back and looks at him. "By the way, did you know you told the entire league and it's fans that you have a girlfriend during your postgame interview?"

"You saw?"

"It's all over social media, Nico. People are saying you hard launched our relationship."

She lets her legs drop and Nico lowers her to the ground. "There were rumors anyway," he replies. "It was bound to come out. Did it bother you? It just kind of came out when I was asked and I wasn't really thinking about the fact that we never talked about it."

"I just would've liked a little heads up," she tells him with a smile on her face. "Are you ready to go?"

He nods and begins to make the rounds to say goodbye to the Devils. She never lets go of his hand as he says goodbye to his teammates. It's his job as captain to tell the team how good they did so he doesn't forget about that. He congratulates Jack and Dawson on their goals before they finally head to the parking lot.

Nico drove them to the Prudential Center in his car so she sits in the passenger seat of the car so Nico can drive them to whoever's place is closest. Which is Nico's apartment.

As they leave the parking lot, Nico stops and says hi to some fans. Pictures are taken where (Y/N) is definitely in the background but at this point, she doesn't care. Nico already told the entire world that he had a girlfriend that was at the game.

He signs some jerseys and pucks, takes some pictures, and gets more than a few congratulations on his hat trick before Nico finally pulls out of the parking lot. He looks over at (Y/N), who gives him a small smile as they stop at a red light.

"You played really well tonight," she tells him. "I'm not just saying that because you had a four-point night but you played really well. I'm so proud of you for getting your first hat trick tonight. I can't believe that I was able to watch it happen in person."

Nico laughs and says, "I told you that you're my good luck charm. The first game you come to after we start dating and I score my first NHL hat trick. It's not a coincidence."

She shakes her head with a smile on her face and looks out the window until they get to Nico's. She plays with her thumbs under the sleeves of her too big jersey that Nico gave to her a few weeks ago.

Fifteen minutes after leaving the arena, Nico pulls into his apartment building parking lot and parks in his usual spot. Her car is parked next to his. They get out and begin the trip up to the top floor of the building where Nico lives.

The building is ten stories tall so it takes a minute for the elevator to get up to the tenth floor from the first floor. Their fingers are laced together the entire time.

(Y/N) follows close behind as Nico unlocks the front door to his penthouse apartment. She wraps her arms around his torso as he unlocks the door and presses her front to his back. "You can't wait until we get inside?" Nico asks as the stupid door finally unlocks.

"Nope," she replies, popping the "p". "I wanna show you how proud of you I am."

He laughs before he pushes the door open. (Y/N) stumbles inside after her boyfriend. She closes the door behind her and Nico presses her against it with his hands on her waist. She stares up at him like she’s challenging him to do something.

Nico looks her up and down. “I wasn’t lying earlier when I said you looked good in my jersey,” he tells her. His voice is deeper and accent thicker than it normally is. “I love seeing my name and number on your back. Knowing you’re mine. It’s so hot. You're so beautiful.”

“Do something about it.” Her voice almost comes out as a whisper. She is absolutely challenging him at this point.

He leans down and captures her lips in a searing kiss. Her heart leaps in her chest when their lips touch. Her back hits the door with the force of the kiss and her fingers grasp at the collar of the jacket Nico is wearing. (Y/N) pulls him as close to her as she can get him.

He presses himself completely against her and slots a thigh between her legs. She has to resist the urge to grind up against his thigh to give herself some relief from the pressure that's building between her legs.

"Off," she mumbles as she pushes Nico's jacket off his shoulders. He helps her out and shrugs the fabric off. He kicks it to the side when it hits the floor and grabs her by the waist.

She pushes her waist off the door and they stumble toward the master bedroom where Nico sleeps. Their shoes are kicked off by the door and Nico's jacket is abandoned on the floor. He loses his tie in the living room and his button-up is lost in the hallway.

When Nico falls onto his back on the mattress, all he's wearing is his suit pants. Even they're unbuttoned and the belt is on the floor. (Y/N) looks down at her boyfriend on the bed and gnaws on her bottom lip.

Sometimes she doesn't know how she got so lucky. She fell in love with the most beautiful and loyal guy. He's captain of a NHL team but still manages to find time to see her whenever he can. He's a talented hockey player that fell in love with her.

She can't believe this is her life. Being able to fall in love with Nico has been the best thing that's ever happened to her. Being able to be loved by Nico is an honor.

"You okay?" Nico asks as he sits up. His hands run up and down the back of her thighs. "You look deep in thought."

"Just thinking," she tells him as she crawls onto his lap. She straddles his waist. "I don't know how I got so lucky to love and be loved by you. You could've fallen in love with anyone but you fell in love with me."

Nico smiles up at her and wraps his arms around her waist. "I fell in love with you because you are the most incredible and beautiful woman I have ever known," he replies. "You're so supportive of me despite my crazy schedule. I don't know how I got so lucky."

Her face gets hot as she smiles. "I'm proud of you, Nico," she says. "I am so happy that I get to see you grow as a person and a player." She leans down and presses a quick kiss to his lips. "Gonna show you how proud of you I am."

She slides down to her knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. Her fingers work on unzipping his pants. She pulls Nico's pants and boxers off in one pull. His hard dick pops out of its prison and stands against Nico's stomach. (Y/N) throws them to the floor and kisses up the inside of his leg from his knee.

After placing a soft kiss to his hip bone, she takes him in her hand and gives him a few slow pumps. Nico grabs a pillow and uses it to prop his head up so he can see her without straining his neck. She smiles up at him before she takes him in her mouth.

"Oh, fuck me," Nico breathes out as (Y/N) moves her head up and down on him. "That mouth of yours feels so good, liebling."

(Y/N) loves it when Nico uses German nicknames on her, especially when they're in bed. They sound ten times hotter when her mouth is on him or when he's inside of her. There have been times when (Y/N) has been in control and Nico has been reduced to speaking his native language.

She'll never get enough of it.

One of her hands makes up for what can't fit in her mouth while the under snakes into the leggings she's wearing under the jersey. Her own fingers run through her folds and work her toward her orgasm. She lets out an occasional hum, which drives Nico crazy. She knows it drives Nico crazy by the way he squirms under her touch every time she does it.

Then she does the one thing she knows gets Nico to come almost as soon as she does it. She hollows out her cheeks and sucks before she swirls her tongue around the fire red tip.

"(Y/N), baby," Nico pants. "Gonna come in about two seconds if you keep doing that."

With a pop, she pulls off his leaking dick. She uses her tongue to get a bead of precum that was on the corner of her mouth. "We wouldn't want that to happen so soon now would we?" she asks as she stands up.

Nico's eyes widen as she begins to undress. The leggings come off first. She reaches down to pull the jersey over her head and Nico sits up quickly. "Uh uh," he says. "Jersey stays on."

"If you come on it, you better get me a new one," she tells him as he slides back on the bed. "I'm not walking into games wearing a jersey you came on." He laughs as he reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a foil package.

She finishes getting undressed but leaves the jersey on. Nico slides the rubber contents of the packages onto himself as (Y/N) straddles his thighs. He sits back against the pillow and headboard. She leans down and captures Nico's swollen lips in a tender kiss. He matches her pace and slowly kisses her back. He puts a hand on the back of her neck. His fingers curl into her hair.

All of her emotions are poured into this kiss. Her hands are on his jaw so he can't go anywhere. Not that he could go anywhere since she is sitting on his lap.

(Y/N) begins to move her hips slowly. She hums as Nico's dick slides through her folds and against her clit. A soft moan falls from her lips into the kisses she exchanges with Nico.

One of her hands leaves Nico's jaw and she positions him at her entrance. She presses a long kiss to his lips and leaves them connected as she slowly sinks down onto him. A whimper comes from her as the familiar pressure fills her. Nico takes the opportunity to lick into her mouth before he pulls back to look at her.

"You feel so good, schatzi," Nico tells her. "So good for me. You take me so well, you know that?" She replies with a soft hum as he completely fills her.

She allows herself a moment to adjust before she begins to roll her hips. Nico's hands fly to her thighs before sliding under the jersey to her waist. "Fuck, Nico," she breathes out as he moves in and out of her while she rolls her hips. Her hands are on his torso to keep her balance.

Slowly, she begins to pick up her pace. Moans fall from her lips the faster she moves.

One of the best things about being with Nico is how intimate these moments are. It feels amazing to be physically connected to him like they are one person. She wouldn't trade this for the world.

They fit together like two puzzle pieces. His hands fit perfectly on her waist. Their lips mold together every time they touch. The way his nose fits perfectly above hers when their foreheads touch is her favorite thing. She molds against his body every time they lay in bed together.

It's like they were made for each other.

"(Y/N), liebling," Nico breathes out. His eyes are on her as she rides him. "Ich liebe dich so sehr."

This is what she means. It's like he's forgotten how to speak English when they're in bed together. She loves it.

"I love you too," she pants because she's slowly been learning simple phrases and knows what Nico said. He tells her he loves her all the time in German. "I love you so much. I'm so proud of you. Fuck. You're amazing."

One of Nico's hands slide to the back of her neck and he pulls her down so their foreheads rest against each other. Her nose brushes his every time she moves. Her eyes close and Nico's thumbs brush her cheeks. "Open your eyes, baby," Nico tells her. "I want to see them. Please."

Her eyes open back up and meet Nico's big brown eyes. He smiles and she leans down to kiss him. She breathes hard into the kisses that are exchanged between them.

Nico takes advantage of the distraction and rolls them over so he's hovering over her. She smiles up at him until he begins to thrust hard and deep inside of her. A pornographic moan passes her lips and she arches her back to get closer to Nico.

He reaches between them and his fingers find her sensitive clit. She gasps when he touches the bud then whines when he begins to rub her closer to her pending orgasm. "Holy fuck, Nico," she cries out. "Keep going. Fuck."

Nico throws her legs over his shoulder so he can get a new angle and move even deeper into her. She has to bite her lip to keep from screaming his name as he begins to slam into her g-spot over and over again.

"Let me hear you, liebling," Nico says. "Don't hold back."

His pace quickens and she has to grab on to something. She chooses his hair when her hands slide up into his locks and her fingers curl. "I'm gonna come, Nico," she warns him. "Fuck, I'm close."

He keeps the same pace and uses his fingers to bring her over the edge. She comes so hard she sees stars. Her vision goes almost white and Nico's name passes her lips along with a string of curses. Her legs shake as they hang on his shoulders and she cries out as she has one of the most intense climaxes of her life.

Only Nico could ever get her to come like that. No one has ever made her come like that. No one besides Nico will ever get her to come like that.

There's a weight on her chest as she comes to and she realizes that Nico is lying on her chest. They're both panting messes as Nico gets off of her after resting for who knows how long. He ties off the used condom and tosses it into the trash can by the bed.

(Y/N) pulls off the jersey and takes off the bra she's wearing because she's sweating before she crawls under the blankets to cover her naked and spent body. Nico joins her and she rests her chin on his chest. Her eyes are on his the whole time. She traces little shapes on his belly.

"I think I got a little carried away," Nico admits. "I blame the jersey."

She laughs and shakes her head. "Good to know you have a thing for me wearing your jersey," she replies. "I'll have to remember that when you're having a bad day or you have a rough game."

Nico smiles and brushes a piece of hair out of her eyes. "I really do love you a lot," he tells her. "Thank you for coming to the game tonight. It meant a lot to me that you were there to watch me score my first hat trick."

"Thank you for inviting me," she says. "I had a lot of fun watching you score your first hat trick. It was incredible."

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to her lips.

Their night is nowhere close to being over. Nico has a day off so she is going to make sure she takes care of him and gives him whatever he wants for the rest of the night. All because of that hat trick.

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MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl fluff #nhl smut #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #hockey fluff #hockey smut #nico hischier #nico hischier fluff #nico hischier smut #nico hischer x reader

[thatsdemko]

who’s the worst of them all? someone tell Santa Claus! - f1 grid

part two | masterlist

warning: not intended for minors + some jokes + fluff/filler part

a/n: hi hi it’s me… I’ve had this written since early November and I’m excited to share!! enjoy!!

DEAR Y/N,

have you been a good girl this year? I heard you’re looking for your stocking stuffed, I think I have just the gift. meet me at midnight for your gift!

Xx

secret Santa

you can’t read this out loud, and most definitely not to the public who will view this video later. whoever was your secret Santa, must’ve heard the rumors of your dry spell. and how pitiful was if that it wasn’t even a rumor, it was the truth.

“oh it’s just a sweet handwritten note.” you chuckle quickly flashing the note to the camera before shoving it back inside the off white envelope.

the presenter presses for more information. she asks what the letter contains and who you think it’s from, and in all honesty, it could be coming from anyone.

all the boys handwriting was not legible. it was like getting a doctors script, it could mean anything, but it was clear this individual took their time to make it perfect.

“I’ll have to find out at the Christmas dinner tonight.” you flash a wink in hopes to cover the beet red look against your cheeks.

“well have fun!”

fun… this was about to be nowhere near fun when it came down to narrowing twenty something guys to be your secret Santa.

—

starting off with Pierre. in his bachelor days, he would’ve sent you something like this, but it was always harmless jokes and he would never take it this far. with kika around his arm, you could cross him off the list of embarrassing yourself in front of.

then there’s his best friend, Charles. he always had a wobbly relationship with women, and seeing he’s alone tonight you cross the room heading his way, “you don’t happen to be my secret Santa?” your hands delicately press against his shoulders, he turns around rather quickly at your touch instantly shaking his head, “no, no, I got Pierre this year. you still don’t know yours?”

shaking your head in response, you eye the room from where you stand. the bar had begun to fill with drivers and team members rather quickly. the air was colder now, but the heat from inside was welcoming to those dressed in bare minimum, like yourself. Charles hand against your lower back was like a radiator, the heat spread through your system faster than the log fire going on, “I’m sure you’ll find him.” Charles promises, “but for now, can I get you a drink?”

“please.”

—

the nights gone smoothly and so far you can cross off valterri, Logan, Kevin, and Nico. you’re questioning yuki, Daniel, Lewis, and lando due to their abilities to dodge the questions.

George outright told you it wasn’t him after hearing you’d spun yourself in circles to find anyone new to question. Logan had confessed to having brought up the idea, but refused to give any further information.

and then there was Carlos.

the man who’d been under your nose this whole evening. with his bow tie crooked, and the clock ticking closer to midnight, you meander your way over to where he stands.

“I’m not who you’re looking for, hermosa.”

“and who am I looking for exactly?”

his eyes flicker from the clock, the television highlighting the Real Madrid game, and back over to you, “I’d never send such a cryptic message.” he maneuvers his body to face yours, “I know how to ask for what I want.”

“and what is it that you want?” you press your body closer in to the smooth wood bar top. your mind is spinning, your heart is hammering it’s way out of your chest, and Carlos is inching closer.

“for you to leave me alone.”

“you’re no fun, sainz.” you pout your bottom lip out and spin on your heels to find your body pressed into lando’s.

“you find him yet?” landos cheeky grin makes him look like a Cheshire Cat. ever since he read the note he’d been eager to place the pin on the man and root for your dry spell to end.

for now, it’s ten minutes to midnight and the place was emptying. the alcohol buzzed around the room and the chatter begun to die, it’s ironic how it was a little bit like your heart: buzzing to find the guy, but ready to die at the sight of him.

“I’m sure it’s all just a prank and I’ll have Logan to blame for it.”

“miss,” the bartenders tap against your shoulder makes you spin away from landos chest, “this is for you.”

DEAR Y/N,

giving up? never thought of you as a quitter.

xx

yours

grinding your teeth together you press the napkin into your palm until the ink smudges. you’re no quitter, but if the man with no balls doesn’t show up soon, you’ll leave here ready to slam your car into someone else’s.

“I’m going to head out, you’ll be okay to walk out alone?”

lando’s worries snap your thoughts from the napkin that’s disintegrating into your hands. his touch is soft against your bare shoulder, making your body two degrees warmer than the room, “I’ll be fine, you go home and have a good Christmas.”

“you too, and if you don’t find him—“

“yes, I know, you’ll key his car.”

rolling your eyes, you playfully shove the Brit off into the cold, leaving you and the cleaning crew in silence.

you never noticed how trashed the bar was. in its glory days, you can tell the red thick carpet and white trim around the bar gave the place a holiday feel. and by the old pictures scattered around the walls, the formula one boys had a riot in this place. people from Michael Schumacher all the way down to young Fernando Alonso, the place seemed to always be the home of f1.

looking down at the disintegrated napkin in your hand, and quickly looking up at the clock, midnight had just struck. if he wasn’t here by 12:01 you were a goner. you hated people who wasted your time, you’d much rather be at home or maybe in lando’s warm McLaren buzzing from the alcohol and the warm leather seats.

turning on your heel, he’d just arrived. he’s shaking the snow off his bulky black jacket, shimmering out of the sleeves. a man comes and retrieves it from his grasp, and in typical fashion, he thanks him.

“you thought I wouldn’t come?”

“I hate when people are late.”

“good thing I’m not late then,” he says with a soft smile approaching where you stand at the bar, with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. he leans forward, inching his mouth over your ear, “I’m right on time.”

a/n: take your guesses on who you think it is!! the big reveal happens Christmas Day!

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz z @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix @leclerc13 @goldenalbon

#charles leclerc #pierre gasly #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x female driver #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #f1 imagines #f1 fics #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #pierre gasly fanfic #lando norris x reader #f1 fiction #lewis hamilton #daniel ricciardo #formula 1 x female reader #formula one x reader #formula one x you #max verstappen #oscar piastri

[ladylooch]

Timo meier X team photographer smut please

Coming right up! This story idea came to me pretty quickly after I read your message. Thank you for the request!

Nailed it with Timo Meier

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ Content, injury including blood.

As the Devil’s team photographer, I know angles are everything.

I’m in a crouch, down on one knee with my camera facing up. The Devil’s take their cue, dashing onto the ice to my left as I watch, waiting for the exact moment that Dougie Hamilton’s stick connects with the assortment of pucks. My camera clicks, getting several bursts of the pucks spiraling in the air. 

“Nailed it.” I grin to myself, coming back up from behind the camera. 

Tonight, the Devils are facing off against the Hurricanes in a red and black show down at The Rock. I brush my hair behind my ears, smiling as my boyfriend, Timo Meier, skates by, slapping his stick against the boards in front of me. It’s an acknowledgement and a good luck ritual- at least for the home games. 

Timo and I have been together for awhile. At this point, most of the players and staff members are used to it. We were forthcoming about our relationship from the start, feeling like the openness was the right way to approach the deep feelings we have for each other. We agreed to keep a low profile at the rink. We acknowledge each other, but avoid any aggressive PDA. Still, we regularly leave the rink holding hands and sharing a soft smooch or two. Timo skates another few laps, hitting pucks into the net at lightning speed. I snap a few more pictures, zeroing in on a few notables like Nico Hischier, Miles Wood, and Jack Hughes. Jack sticks his tongue out at me in one of his laps.

“That one is definitely going to Instagram!” I yell after him. His giddy laughter follows his wake. 

Timo skates over to the bench, grabbing a red water bottle in front of me and dousing himself with the spray. I step more to my left to avoid any water on my camera.

“Ah! That is cold tonight.” He wiggles his shoulders at me as the droplets race down his neck and back. 

“You say that every night.” I respond from behind my camera. I bring it down, looking at the screen to see if I need to adjust my settings. The arena lights seem a bit brighter than I’m used to. I look up, realizing the graphics are whiter than last home game.

“Yeah.. I like that it’s our thing.” He cheeses at me. 

“Go skate some laps ya slacker.” I love him, but he’s distracting me from my job. I start to work my way into the camera settings, pressing the arrow buttons to adjust the shutter speed and aperture settings. I think I’ve got it just right, bringing the camera closer to my face.

Then, everything goes black.

When I come to, it’s because of smelling salts. I jolt then immediately start gagging. 

“Stay down.” Mike, the assistant athletic trainer, tells me. The smell of sweat and wet rubber meets my nose next. I’m laying on the mats in the Devil’s bench. The bright lights of the arena are blinding from this position and I grimace in discomfort. My eyes slowly work their way around the group hovering over me. I see Nico, Miles, and Timo, who’s complexion is ghostly white.

“Babe.” He sputters out.

“Ow.” I whine, reaching for my head. Mike grabs my hand to prevent me from touching it.

“I’m so sorry!” Miles yelps to me. Nico turns to give him a look and gestures with his head for Miles to hit the ice again.

“You’re going to need stitches.” Mike warns me when I try to touch the tenderest part of my head. Awareness of the towel and pressure has me feeling woozy. “Let’s sit her up slowly.” Timo moves behind me and together with Mike, they sit me up. I lean back into Timo, my head feeling too heavy to support on my own. “We’re gonna sit here for a minute.” Mike says, watching my eye movement. He brings out the pen with the light and shines it in my eyes.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” I tell them, feeling my mouth get wetter and my throat tighten up.

“Okay, let’s see if we can walk you to the training room.” Mike says.

“I’ll get her.” Timo insists, reaching his hands under my arms and gently helping me to my feet. I wind my arm around his back then gingerly move forward. Mike is in front, making sure I don’t fall forward. There’s no way Timo would let me. He’s holding me too tight.

We work our way to the locker room after a few encouraging pats from Nico and Miles. 

“I’m so sorry!” Miles calls after me. “Fuck…” I hear him start talking to Nico as we disappear into the hallway. I still don’t know what he is apologizing for. Several Devils’ staff members are hustling around, still preparing for the game. One of those people is Steve, the head athletic trainer, who looks at Timo concerned.

“What happened?” He asks, moving around to my other side and wrapping an arm around me. “I’ve got her, Timo.” Steve insists. “You can head back to the ice.” Timo hesitates in dropping his arm around me.

“I… want to make sure she’s okay. She got hit by a puck from Miles.”

“Go warm up. She’s in good hands.” Steve tells him.

“It’s okay.” I whisper to him, releasing his body to transfer completely to Steve. Timo pauses, watching the drooping of my eyes and the blood pooling on the BioSteel towel.

“Come get me if it’s bad.” He says to the two trainers. They nod in agreement. Timo gives me one last look before begrudgingly following the black mats back to the ice.

“Where is my camera?” I mumble to Mike.

“It’s on the bench. We will send someone to grab it.” I send a little prayer up that it’s not broken.

“Did someone catch me?” I wonder as they maneuver me onto the table. 

“Yeah, Timo did.” I nod, remembering our teasing before the world disappeared.

“He’s good at that.” I murmur to Mike. 

Steve sticks around as they pull the towel off. It’s not deep but it will need stitches. They decide they can do it without shaving part of my hair off, which I appreciate. They begin to line the tools up and start just as we hear the players coming back in from warmups. Mike insists he’s got it, so Steve leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

Timo struts in a minute later. He says nothing, just comes to lace our fingers together.

I wince slightly at the dull throbbing beginning to pound in my head. Timo takes it as the stitches.

“You’re hurting her.” He snaps. 

“Timo, I’ve got it. Let me work or you’ll have to leave.” 

“Go get ready for the game. I’m fine.” I mumble to my boyfriend. Its a total lie; I feel like garbage, but his help is needed elsewhere tonight.

“But-”

“Timo.” I sigh, closing my eyes in pain and exasperation. He’s making this whole thing worse by fussing over me. Yes, it’s sweet, but I need him to focus on the game. I don’t want to be a distraction when this is an important match up with a division rival. “You’ll have plenty of time to take care of me after the game.”

“Okay.” He says quietly. Mike pauses the stitches so we can share a kiss. It’s tender and a bit tortured, like he’s trying to heal me with his mouth. I reach up to cup his chin, deepening the kiss until I slowly pull back. Our lips catch together for a moment before his blue eyes open to meet mine. “Love you.” Despite the pain and anxiety, I smile.

“Love you.” He gives my thigh a squeeze before disappearing beyond the door to rejoin his teammates. When the Devils are about to begin the game, each one of the players strolls through the trainer’s room to give me fist bumps. Timo is the last one. 

“Kick some butt.”

“Just for you.” He taps my thigh on the way out, face turning serious with his game mode activated.

After Mike is done stitching me up, the team arranges for me to go home in a town car with strict instructions to stay awake until Timo gets home. I nod in understanding, but the request gets harder and harder the later it gets. By the time Timo rushes through our apartment door, my droopy eyes are almost closed.

“No, no, no.” He murmurs as he tosses his keys in the bowl by the door. “Baby, no sleeping yet. We have to call Steve. He asked for us to check in with him.”

“No.” I whine, tossing the blanket over my head. “I just wanna go to bed.”

“And I want you to be safe.”

We talk to Steve and he seems to think I’m doing well enough to go to sleep. 

“Reminder to take it easy for the next few days. Rest up.”

Timo agrees that I will and clicks off the phone. He tosses it on the end table, then gathers me into his arms.

“I was so scared. Like I saw it happen and there was nothing I could do.” He shakes his head, swallowing loudly. 

“It was an accident. I hope Miles is okay.”

“He’s fine.” Timo says, massaging my back with his strong fingers. “He’s going to send over cookies as an apology tomorrow.” I chuckle, shaking my head.

“That is not necessary.”

“Shhhhh.” He pats the uninjured side of my head gently. “We will let him send the cookies.” 

“Mmm interesting priorities, Meier.” I tilt my head up to look at his face. The adjustment in position makes my head spin in protest. I close one eye, trying to get my senses steady again. Timo picks up on the discomfort and frowns.

“Are you okay?” 

“I could use a distraction.” I tell him honestly. After being alone for a few hours and the trauma of what could have been settling in, I’m feeling edgy. I know Timo can be the cure. His blue eyes are wary.

“That’s… probably not a good idea.”

“Make me feel better.” I lean up to speak against his lips. 

“Steve said-“

“I don’t care. Help me focus on something besides the pain.” My tongue melds with his. He continues to resist until I skim my fingers along the zipper of his designer pants. “Please.” I breathe into our kiss. He surrenders to me, wrapping his arms tighter around my body to hold me closer. 

I maneuver up to straddle his large thighs. My fingers trail up his chest and neck to his cheeks, deepening our kiss. Timo’s hands move from my back to my ass cheeks, digging his fingers into my leggings. He rolls my hips, helping to build the thickening in his pants. A pleasure filled sigh wraps between us when he hits my folds just right.

“I’m standing up.” He says in warning, then does so. I pull back to look at his face while we walk. My fingers come to his silky, black tie, tugging on the fabric until the knot releases. Timo’s fingers dig further into my ass, holding me up tighter and closer to him. “You okay?” He checks as he lays me on the bed. I nod as he works his hands along the waistband of my leggings to get them down my legs. My panties come with. Timo moves between my spread legs, pushing my knees wider as he looks down at me. My inner muscles pulse, causing a smile from him. “You need something here?” He asks as a finger circles my opening. I wiggle against his hand. 

“Don’t tease tonight.” I whimper. “I’ve been through enough.” His thick eyebrows pull down in sadness then he slides his middle finger into me. His thumb comes up to stroke my clit in sync with his in and out motion. I bite my lip, lifting my head to look down and watch him. The room vibrates and I fall back onto the bed.

“Stay there, baby. Just feel me.” He encourages. I note his hot breath dancing on my wet folds. His tongue comes out to do a gentle lick, nudging between my outer lips to stroke my clit. I reach my hand out, letting it fall on his forearm. He moves so our fingers can lace together while he buries his mouth deeper into me.

His mouth slurps me greedily, working me closer to the edge. He interjects gentle nibbles to build pressure and impatience. Then, when he’s sure he’s got me, he creates a wet, hard suction with his mouth. I come loudly, gripping his fingers and grinding against his mouth. When I come to, I realize he is still completely clothed. He reaches down for the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it up my body until I’m naked.

“Watch me.” He murmurs, reaching for the tie swinging down his chest. 

He tosses it to the floor then shrugs his suit jacket off. He begins to work on the buttons of his dress shirt, alternating between looking there and at me. I slowly run my tongue along my bottom lip, gaining more of his attention. I drag my finger tips up my body to my nipples, swiping my fingers along them and moaning. Timo’s fingers pause as I take another pass at them. It feels so good that I widen my legs further, wanting him right there. His eyes stay pinned on my chest while working his belt apart. His pants fall down, then his boxer briefs until his hard cock pierces the air. Our eyes meet, hard and hot desire twisting in our gazes. 

My blue eyes drink him in when he leans over me, pressing our lips together. Our tongues connect, lazily eating each other up as his head nudges my entrance. I groan into his mouth as he pushes in. He tries to pull back to watch my face, but I hold him tight where he is.

“Just feel.” I remind him, kissing the corners of his mouth. My smooches lead me to his jaw, then to his neck where I sink my teeth into him. He becomes gooey, then increases his thrusts into me. 

“Fuck, I love that.” He moans. “Love everything about you.”

His hips snap and buck into mine. I feel his cock stroking my walls just right, building the tension in me. I moan into his ear, gnawing at his ear lobe to hear him sigh my name. His lips kiss down my chest, then over to my nipple, circling it with his tongue. He sucks it into his mouth as I arch my back. Timo presses me back down so I’m laying flat again. His mouth widens on my breast, getting a tight suction that has me clenching hard around him.

“You feeling better?” He asks me, kissing my nipple, then moving to the other one. I weave my fingers into his hair. My other hand stays on his ass, enjoying the feel of the muscle twitching as he pumps deeper into me. 

“So good, babe.” I whimper, swallowing as I feel the first flick of orgasm. My eyes close and my mouth opens wider, no sound comes out as I crash into the white hot heat. I tighten around him, making him swear, then shoot into me. His head slams into the mattress next to my cheek. A  soft laugh falls from my mouth, fingers trailing up to thread through his dark hair again. “So much better.” I confirm to him, turning to place a kiss on his cheek. He turns his face to capture my lips for the second press.

“I don’t know what I would have done if tonight had ended differently.” He murmurs, blue eyes deepening with worry.

“Guess it’s good we didn’t have to find out.”

“True.” He ghosts his fingers close to my stitches, wincing for me. “I think I’m the one who is supposed to have stitches in this relationship.”

“We could ask Miles to give you a matching pair?” We both chuckle.

“And we have found where my love for you ends.” I scoff, slapping at his shoulder. 

“In that case, get out of me!”

“No. Just a little longer.” He presses his lips to my shoulder while I wrap my legs around his body to hold him in place.

#timo meier #timo meier smut #timo meier fan fiction #New Jersey devils #NHL fan fiction #nhl writing #my writing #writing request #hockey writing #hockey fan fiction

[workingforitallthetime]

drawn arrows unseen

part 16 / previous installments/tags

The news about Connor breaks before world juniors. The tone of the draft year coverage immediately shifts. Before, Connor was undersized but built for hockey. Now Connor’s too short to stick as an NHL centre. Before, Connor was the undisputed 1OA. Now mock drafts are showing Fantilli or Carlsson going first. When Connor tries a lacrosse goal in Canada’s embarrassing loss in their opening game, suddenly there’s a bunch of hot takes about whether Canada can win with omegas on the team.

Mason’s furious about it. He watches every game, willing Canada on. Willing Connor on. Trevor tries to talk some shit and ends up baiting Mason into a bet. “When USA wins you have to wear my jersey for arrivals,” Trevor grins at him, crinkle-eyed, obviously not taking this seriously at all. “Or the other way around.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking on,” Mason growls at him. Canada’s going to pull this off, with Connor leading the way. Mason’s not going to have to wear a goddamned Team USA jersey. Trevor’s probably wouldn’t even fit him anyway.

Mason leaves Connor a screaming unhinged voice note after Connor wins the quarterfinals in OT with the slickest goal Mason’s ever seen. And then they win the whole thing, and Connor gets the same MVP award Mason got last summer, and Mason’s so unbearably proud of him it’s easy to focus on that and not on Adam Fantilli or whatever alphas Connor might be playing alongside.

Especially since Connor’s rooming with Zelly. No worries there. doesn’t steal my bars, Connor texts him, but he probably doesn’t know the capital of France. It’s one of the only texts Mason gets during the tournament. Connor’s busy.

The day after Canada wins gold, Trevor reminds Mason to bring his jersey to the game. “Gotta pay up,” he laughs, like it’s no big deal.

As Mason takes his jersey from world juniors off its hanger on his wall, he considers forgetting it instead. Absolving Trevor. But a bet’s a bet. And Trevor doesn’t give a shit anyway, laughing his fool head off about it when he meets Mason at parking to pull Mason’s jersey on over his gameday suit. Mason gamely mugs for the camera as they walk in, but he’s glad to reclaim his jersey and hang it safely in his street locker.

After the game, as they’re getting ready to go out, Trevor reaches in and snatches it off its hook. He starts to tug it over his head. Mason yanks on the sleeve to stop his momentum. “What the hell?”

“Just for fun.” Trevor pops his face through the neck of Mason's jersey, grinning his stupid grin.

Mason’s not going to get into a tug of war with a bratty omega. “Are you going to make him stop?” he asks Jamie instead.

“It’s not a big deal.” Jamie blinks his mild eyes earnestly at Mason. ‘He’s having fun, and it doesn’t bother me, so you don’t have to worry.”

Mason tries to unclench his fists. If Trevor’s mate doesn’t mind him wearing another alpha’s jersey, unbonded Mason doesn’t have any room to complain. It’s not like Mason even wants to see Connor wearing his jersey. He likes Connor in his own Canada jersey, side by side with Mason. Winning together.

When Jamie makes him pose for a picture at the restaurant, Mason wonders if Connor will see. But he never hears anything from Connor about it.

[never forget that this bet is canon]

The hot takes don’t stop after Connor torches world juniors. Dom at The Athletic comes up with a model to analyze the value of presented omega prospects compared to other prospects. The story includes an analysis of Jack Hughes’ performance and how his stats exploded partway through the 2021-22 season after it came out that he and Nico Hischer were bonded. 

Mason hates the suggestion that Connor needs an alpha to play his best hockey. Connor can handle himself. Nobody knows that better than Mason.

Shayna Goldman writes a companion piece examining five different bottom-feeder teams as potential destinations for Connor Bedard based on their unbonded alphas. Mason skims it and of course his own shitty team is on there. The story notes that Anaheim’s short on alphas, with only Commer and Fowler left after Verbeek sold everyone off last spring, so he’s probably not going to take a chance on an omega in the 2023 draft.

A week later, Shayna retweets a link to the story with this:

Rumor has it there’s another alpha who’s presented in sunny SoCal, and Team Canada says he’s got great chemistry with a possible 1OA pick. xoxo

It’s stupid to hope that Connor will get drafted to Anaheim and everything will be okay. But Mason hopes anyway. Connor on his line forever, the two of them putting this lousy franchise on their backs and dragging it into a new era. Connor, living in Anaheim, his draft year behind him, finally eighteen. Mason could finally tell him everything.

As the season rolls on and the Ducks get worse and worse, he texts Connor after especially bad games with a joke about the draft lottery. Sometimes Connor responds. Sometimes he doesn’t.

(next)

#drawn arrows unseen

[12romy]

Lewis & Charles and 9 or 46✨

Nothing better than some good old Chewis eheh

[9: in public + 46: our of envy or jealousy]

Charles never hated more missing the podium. Finishing fourth has rarely been this frustrating, because now, he has to watch Max Verstappen and Fernando Alonso and Nico fucking Rosberg fighting for Lewis' attention. Even George, who Charles had to fight off until the very end, sneaked into the parc fermé to hug him. He's got his paws all over Lewis, and it's starting to get on Charles' nerves.

His boyfriend just won his first race of the season - in Brazil nonetheless - and he's not allowed to congratulate him more than with a quick pat on the shoulder? This is fucking unfair.

Then he remembers. He feels dumb for forgetting something this important. Lewis and he had talked about it. They had agreed, actually, on coming out. They had a statement drafted, all ready to be posted in a couple of days.

Surely, Lewis won't be too mad at him, if he just... Kisses him now. Right there, in front of everyone. And it's not to show those bastards that Lewis belongs to him, of course not. That's like, a convenient consequence of that action. He's doing it because he loves Lewis so much that it feels like his heart might burst out of his chest if he doesn't.

Well, he truly hopes Lewis won't be mad, in any case, because now that the thought is in his head, it's stuck there.

He ignores the people in red clapping his shoulder or his arm in a tamed congratulation and makes his way through the crowd to catch Lewis before he gets to the cool-down room.

"Charles!" Lewis brightens up when he sees him, completely ignoring whatever Nico was asking him for the post-race interview. "Nico just told me Max got a penalty, you're on the podium!"

Now, that's not what Charles expected to hear. He's not lucky, usually, when it comes to racing and penalties.

He doesn't even think about being smug for stealing Lewis' attention from Rosberg because, well, Lewis is looking at him, happy and beautiful, and Charles still can't quite cope with that.

"The podium?" he exclaims, unable to hide his enthusiasm. He's gonna get to spray Lewis with champagne, he can't wait. "I'm on the podium?"

"Yes, Charles, great timing, I can interview you now," Nico cuts in, rudely, and Charles glares at him.

"Excuse me, I didn't even have the time to congratulate my boyfriend, so that'll have to wait," he growls.

He can tell Lewis is a little surprised but also a little turned on by the way his eyes widen slightly like they always do whenever Charles kisses him when he doesn't expect it, at home.

Charles focuses back on Lewis, cradling his cheek. He's making a show of it, he knows, but he doesn't need to look at Rosberg to hear him choke, and it's so worth it. He hopes there's a camera showing his face, he'll need to watch the replay.

"Congratulation, mon amour," he says, loud enough for the mic to pick it up, and Lewis leans in first but Charles is the one to close the gap between them.

There is nothing slow about the kiss. Charles presses his tongue against Lewis' lips, who parts them for him and it's gross and filthy and it will probably give a heart attack to a homophobic or two.

They're both panting when they pull apart and hear the cries of the crowd - it's hard to tell if they're booing or cheering.

They leave Rosberg there, speechless. In the cool-down room, Alonso is looking at everything but them, and he's very careful to stay as far away from them as he can during the podium.

Lewis and Charles are too wrapped up in each other to notice.

The screams of the crowd turn out to be cheering. Brazil loves its champion, after all.

#f1rpf #fic prompt #prompt answered #yeah i couldn't chose so i made both #and i've realised i've written from charles' pov again #wonder what that says about me #chewis #send asks!! #this is so much fun

[ticiie]

week 3: (missed) late night calls

prompt from the off-season winter sport fandom challange

characters: Nico Hischier, Jonas Siegenthaler, Jack Hughes (mentioned), Dougie Hamilton (mentioned)

length: 795 words

author's note: once again had to adjust the prompt because it was giving me 💫nothing💫 also as much as i want switzerland to do well at the upcoming iihf worlds, i kinda don't want to see any of the devils there because i want them to win the cup even more? sue me. so here goes nothing

The silence which had settled in the bus was filled with a tension that was almost graspable. Most of the players were trying to distract themselves by listening to music or scrolling through their phones. Nico, who was sitting next to Jonas in the back of the bus, had his head rested against the window. His level of adrenaline was still low enough to make him drowse off every now and then and since traffic was making a fool of them at the moment anyway, he might as well use the time efficiently. Jonas, on the other hand, felt his heart beating in his throat already. Not to be dramatic but the amount of blood, sweat and yes, even tears, it had taken them all to get here tonight was far beyond anything he could’ve ever imagined. It would all come to an end tonight and Jonas was trying to not imagine what would happen if they lost in tonight’s final. There was no sense in worrying about the outcome, never had been, yet his brain was running on full speed, his chest felt tight all of a sudden, and why was it so hot in here, had somebody turned on the heating? Jonas was pulling at the collar of his button down. An unpleasant tingle started to rise from somewhere near his stomach into his limbs. Only when Nico placed his hand above Jonas’ which he had clenched around the handle that was fixed to the backrest of the seat in front of him, he felt the flurry easing off little by little.

“Breathe,” Nico said, his voice as calm as always. Jonas did as he was told. They locked eyes, their fingers intertwined, pulling each other back up to the surface. The panic passed almost as quickly as it came and Jonas’ heartbeat slowed down to a healthier rhythm again. Nico didn’t let go of his hand though, not even as he pulled out his phone and showed Jonas a picture that had just reached both their and also Timo’s and Akira’s phone. It was most of their other team, and they were all wearing red-and-white jerseys that said “Swiss devils” giving the camera thumbs up and bright smiles. Jack had captioned the picture “GO WOLF PACK” and Jonas smiled. “I guess he’s not angry at us anymore then?” he asked.

“He told me how he’d much rather get kicked out by us than having to watch Sweden winning yet another time.”

“So, no pressure at all,” Jonas mumbled and Nico laughed softly. He pulled Jonas’ hand towards him and placed a small kiss on the older one’s knuckles. “We’ll be okay.” It was more of a promise than anything else and Jonas wanted nothing more in the world than to believe it and especially the person rewarding it to him.

What happened then was the stuff that dreams were made of. Until this night, Nico had never seen their head-coach cry but when Patrick was handed the trophy, his face was covered in tears and the sight of it alone was enough for a sob to escape Nico's throat. It took them half an eternity to get from the ice to the mixed zone let alone back into the changing room. Nico was the last player to reach it. He had lost complete track of time. The mood was incomparable to what it had been like this afternoon, loud music, shouts, and laughter were filling the cabin, someone had organised beer and pizza and the trophy was still going its rounds from hand to hand. It was simply impossible to describe the pure joy that was soaring through Jonas’ body. And when Nico entered the changing room, exhausted but happy, his heart started doing the sort of flips he had gotten addicted to over the years.

By the time Jonas got to check his phone again, the clock on the display told him it was past 3am. His intoxicated brain didn’t progress this information at all, along with the fact that apparently, Jonas had missed two dozen calls and was left with nearly one hundred unread messages. The only one that mattered though was one from Hamilton that had arrived only a few minutes ago. It was a picture he obviously had taken from a TV-screen, frozen at the very moment when Jonas and Nico had reached each other after the final siren that had announced their victory. One could barely tell where Nico started and Jonas ended and all Hamilton had to say about it was a short “idiots in love. Congrats.” Jonas grinned into his phone like an utter goofball as he set the picture as his lock screen-wallpaper. The night was mild, a soft breeze was rushing through Jonas’ hair and he exhaled in relief.

#osws fandom challenge #osws #ice hockey #iihf worlds 2023 #rpf #fanfic #nico hischier #jonas siegenthaler #shoutout to wunderlichkind

[solace-seekers]

himbo Will but all things my cats have done pt 2

occasionally forgets how to open doors. struggles for a fat minute before nico has to come help him

when he wakes up he’ll stretch out his limbs but he’s way too big so he ends up pushing Nico off the bed half the time, he never learns how to stop

randomly will get an energy burst and suddenly nicos being woken up at 4 am because Wills running around the house and instead of Nico being able to convince Will to sleep, it turns into Will trying to convince Nico to go run outside with him

lays in the sunspots whenever they’re available. it will be heatstroke hot weather and Will tries to sit directly in the sun, even tho he himself can still get heatstroke

lays on top of nicos work all. the. time. nico will turn away for two seconds and when he turns back Will, who he could’ve sworn was on the opposite side of their home, is once again crumpling his papers

has a nasty habit of staring just beyond someone’s shoulder, as if seeing a figure behind them that they are not aware of. even nico isn’t sure what he’s looking at

whenever nico has to be gone for a fat minute, whenever he returns Will whines his heart out until nico picks him up for at least 10 minutes

i created a second part because i have had to get out of bed five times in the past hour because my cat has forgotten how to get out of a door. my door is open. yet he still scratches on the doorframe until i open it half way even though he could make it out just fine before. i am suffering

#Will is compared to a lanky cat so let him behave like one argument #nico buys Will the gamer headphones with cat ears on them <3 #and Will refuses to be wasteful so he has to wear them <3 #so just imagine Will streaming some random game because he’s bored and somehow built a community around him #and he has the stupid cat ears on #so nico comes over with his face off camera and just starts giving him head scratches #and Will absolutely melts and somehow starts to purr #and someone clips it #and Will cannot escape being called a catboy no matter how many explanations he gives #hoo #pjo #pjo/hoo #will solace #not hades (game) #nico di angelo #will solace headcannon

[parkers-gal]

Hello!

Could you do a Psychiatrist!Y/n and Tom Holland where they are together and the russo brothers assigned Dr.Y/n to be their mental health coach for all of the actors and actresses in Cherry especially Tom and Ciara and one day Tom just have major breakdown after shooting a scene where he just let go like act like Nico and think like Nico and Y/n and Tom went to have a one on one talk🥺and tom be like: you are so good to me🥺and during the press interview (The iconic yellow shirt;)) Tom mentioned his girlfriend on how helpful she is to him to the entire production and sending heart eyes as well and million of fans where like swoon over their relationship:) Sorry its long🤣

Thank you for accepting and writing it❣️💖

requests are open

wc: 1k

—

“Alright everyone, really quickly,” Anthony, one of the Russo brothers, quieted the set of people, crew members and actors focusing their attention on both the directors and the woman behind them. “I’m sure you’ve all read the email I mass-sent to you all, but I’d like to introduce our Psychiatrist, Dr. Y/N L/N.” He gestured to you, and you waved to the people looking at you, slightly intimidated. “She’ll be helping through the entirety of production, so let’s give her a warm welcome!” You heard them say, “Hi, Y/N,” and you assumed the Russos did such a thing with every guest. 

You stepped forward, straightening out your shirt. “Hi, I’m Dr. L/N. Feel free to just refer to me as my first name. I’ll be here if anyone is having a hard time or… needs a bit of therapy or needs to relieve some stress.” 

You saw a few people nod, and you turned back to Joe with a tight smile, excusing yourself as you went off of the set. You wanted to set up in the trailer they’d given you.

You’d read the script. It was harsh, it was heavy, but it was real. That’s what made it human. You knew the actors probably wouldn’t warm up to your offers at first, but eventually they’d be coming in. It was typical in most of your patients, you had noticed. Denial played a big role in receiving help. You hoped, though, that they wouldn’t come in too late. 

**

It had been about two weeks since your first introduction. You were on set, taking notes of how people acted, picking apart their every move and their habits. What you didn’t expect, however, was someone to come to you so soon. 

It was mid afternoon, and you were sitting in your trailer, getting some work done online, when someone had rung your work phone. Picking it up, you heard the frantic voice of one of the Russo brothers, informing you they had halted filming for the next hour or so. They’d sent someone to your room, and you could only wonder who it was. 

When you heard a very timid knock, you opened the door to see the star of the film himself, Tom. You smiled, inviting him. 

“Hey, Tom,” you sat down, and he sat on the couch beside your small table. “Everything alright.”

He nodded, seemingly in thought, and you gave him the space to flutter as he pleased, allowing him to open up at his own pace. He was grateful for that — that you were more considerate than you would be if you were strictly following rules. 

“I’ve just been…” his voice was rough and delicate, scratching and quite damp. “Having a really hard time.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve been talking to so many veterans and people with addictions and I’ve just-” he sighed, hands rubbing his face and going over his head. “I’ve been so exhausted.”

You saw a tear slip and set your clipboard down. Moving to sit beside him, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close in comfort. 

“I just feel like I’m turning into him.” He breathed out, gasping between breaths as he tried to slow his tears. 

“You will never be him,” you looked him straight into the eyes. “You’re so strong, Tom. I’ve seen you these past few weeks and- I’m honestly surprised you didn’t come sooner. I can see how much of a fighter you are, how in control of your mind and your headspace you are. And that’s good,” he let out a few more tears, looking down to his lap, and you pulled him closer. “You’re doing so good.”

He nodded, hand running over his buzzed head. “No yeah, I know,” his voice was so broken, rasping beyond belief. “I’m terrified of becoming him- of… of losing who I am.”

You nodded. “It’s hard,” you agreed. “Just because you can handle it doesn’t mean you’re not going to have rough patches. It’s okay to have breakdowns like today. We know what you have to do and what you have to go through for this role,” you lifted his chin, swallowing. “Days like this are going to happen, and you don’t need to be sorry.”

The two of you sat in each other’s embrace for a few minutes after that, silence settling in the trailer. 

“You’re so good to me,” he sighed out, and you shook your head. 

“You deserve the best, Tom.”

With all the time the two of you ended up spending together during production, a relationship had sprouted. He’d confided in you for basically everything, not just Cherry-related problems. He trusted you, and he was certain he loved you. It had only been a few months, and he didn’t want to scare you off, but he still knew. 

Press had started, from home of course. Over the course of quarantine, the two of you had gone public with your relationship, occasionally sharing a few pictures. He was in an interview now, smiling in his seat, a yellow-golden shirt fitted on his chest. You were sitting in the corner, out of the view of the camera. 

“How hard was it to differentiate your headspace? Between Cherry, with such a dark persona, and you yourself. Was it difficult to keep it out of your personal mindset?”

“Uhm,” he crossed his arms, biceps buff. “Well, it was definitely difficult. There were days on set where I’d just- I’d snap and I’d go up to the Russos and be like ‘Hey, sorry about that.’ And they’d say ‘Dude, you’re playing a drug addict. It’s gonna happen,’” he laughed wholeheartedly. “But, I’d say we had really great support. My girlfriend was such a huge factor in keeping me in the right headspace through all of this.” 

“Your girlfriend is a…. Psychiatrist, right?”

Tom nodded with a smile, “Yeah, she is.” He glanced at you when he replied, a small grin on his face as he watched you from afar. He was grinning like a madman when you stared back, and you giggled, waving at him in a silly manner. He waved back, momentarily forgetting he was on camera, and you tried not to laugh too loudly. 

“Is she in the room with you?”

Tom’s head snapped back to the monitor and he laughed, a blush coating his cheeks. “Yeah, she is,” he scratched his neck. You stuck your tongue out at him, and he did the same. You were sure twitter was going to have a fit tonight. 

#tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland x reader insert #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluffy fic #tom fic

[byima]

California Dreaming pt 3

Shout out to Tim Cook, the most boring commencement speaker like, ever. You’ve inspired PJO fanfiction. I am sharing this in smaller portions because I’m incapable of working on large text documents. Part 4 coming soon. Read full story on AO3

3 weeks later:

“…it is an honor to welcome you all to New Rome University's 125th commencement ceremony…”

Annabeth inhaled, steeling herself, taking it all in, then she exhaled in a loud breath. The morning was too bright, her brow pinched as she squinted at her surroundings, and the five-story arena they’re all crowded into seemed to gleam more than usual. It was enough to make her head ache. 

She was in a Coliseum for gods’ sake. Because of course the arena in New Rome was modeled after the famous structure. The Greek in her wanted to wince at the on-the-nose mimicry. The architect in her was impressed by the modern adaptation and the homage to classic details. She had already committed to being on her best behavior, but the whole morning was shaping up to be a bit much. Nonetheless, neutral expression was her goal, as the Chancellor gave his welcoming speech.

“You all join thousands of scholars, authors, scientists, leaders, innovators, and thinkers in a centuries old tradition…”

It’s just… it wasn’t supposed to be this hot in the bay. But the sun was strong today, so much so that Annabeth found herself wishing she'd had Sally’s foresight and donned a wide brimmed hat like the ones her boyfriend’s mom and sister were sporting. Instead she sat in the cement stands using two programs as a visor, every now and then checking the status of the red flush blooming on Paul’s forehead and cheeks. And the beads of moisture, gathering incrementally at his temples.

“This is a landmark moment, the culmination of a lifetime of hard work and dedication…”

They’d arrived at the stadium early too, because Sally wanted good seats. The procession of graduates didn’t emerge for another hour and a half after they had settled in the stands. Her friends were spread throughout; Grover, Charles, Silena, Rachel and other Greeks that had made it sitting in a section to her left, Hazel, Nico, Piper, and Jason somewhere high up, to her right.

It was fine. They were here for Percy. And Frank. To celebrate.

That's what she told herself as she unstuck her dress from her sweaty thighs.

“And to all of our graduates, I encourage you to look into the stands. Find your family, your friends, your loved ones. The people that encouraged you, supported you, who danced and shouted and cried with you. Today we celebrate them, too…”

He owes me something real good, she thought to herself, for putting up with all the pomp and circumstance that’s coming with his graduation from this school. Mind on all the ways Percy was gonna make it up to her, she fanned herself with a program and settled back for the celebratory display.

It wasn't all punishing rays and sticky thighs though; the ceremony was touching in moments, electrifying in others. Touching when the procession of graduating students had poured onto the field; several students had broken formation to meet family members hanging at the edge of the stands for a brief embrace. Percy had searched them out in the crowd, spotted them, then blown dramatic kisses in their direction, finishing off with a two-handed "rock on" salute. Electrifying when the announcer prompted each cohort to give a battle cry. That sound, all the voices of graduates bellowing their affiliation, whether they had fought in the legion or had family that fought, accompanied by the reverberating tones of the Roman cornu, struck a note, something she felt in her chest even when the echo had subsided.

But the waiting, and the speakers, some engaging, others that should have never been passed the mic, had Annabeth digging her phone out of her crossbody bag so she and Estelle could occupy themselves.

And then, the final straw; the main speaker took the stage, a big Silicon Valley tech guy and a Vulcan legacy, and, gods above, Annabeth couldn't take it. She fell asleep, the drowsy heat was her blanket, hands folded in her lap and chin tucked into her chest.

After what felt like half a second of shut eye, Annabeth was jarred awake by loud, metallic clangs. Slightly startled, she looked behind her to see a girl, probably in her teens, apologizing as she picked up the water bottle she had dropped. Rubbing her nose tiredly, Annabeth looked to her right, there was Sally, leaning against Paul with her hand on his thigh, as they listened to the speech like the smug, functional adults they were.

Then she looked down, just as Estelle's gaze popped up, green eyes finding her gray ones under the brim of her hat, momentarily pausing her digital fruit popping to gleefully announce, "I saw you sleeping!"

"Yeah," Annabeth cleared her throat. She picked her hair up off of her clammy neck, shook it out, and set it back down. "Can I see my phone?" She searched for Percy's cap covered head as she asked. Bingo. Just as she thought. 

Estelle’s answering “of course” was very polite, but she was reluctant to hand the device over, peering up at Annabeth's face as if to double check if she was serious about her request. Annabeth retrieved the device, clicked out of the game and opened up her messaging app. glancing at the field every other second, then started typing.

A: Percy.

A: Percy.

A: Peeeeerrrrcccyyy.

A: Perseus Jackson.

A: Hey

A: Hi

A: What’s up?

A: Hello?

A: Buenos días.

She watched him jolt, shoulders shifting as he fumbled around for his vibrating phone. A couple seconds later...

P: You woke me up

A: I know. I could see your head drooping. I’m trying to save your neighbor from a drool stain on his gown.

P: Har har, nice one haven’t heard that before not.

P: Are you telling me you’ve managed to stay awake for this whole speech?

She took a moment to respond, she could lord this over him, falling asleep at his own graduation ceremony, but honesty is the best policy or whatever, and it’s actually hilarious how absolutely, horrifically, indubitably  boring  the selected speaker is.

A: No. I was knocked. The girl behind me dropped her hydroflask and woke me up.

P: This feels illegal.

P: I thought I was done sitting through lectures.

A: You’re almost there. You got this.

P: No. I’m not gonna survive this. 

A: Very dramatic.

P: Tell my family I love them.

A:  😒

P: And I’ll miss them.

P: We had a great run .

A:  😒😒😒😒😒

P: Maybe you could send a hot pic? 

P: One final act of kindness? 🥺

P: Make-a-wish style?

A: That’s your dying request?

P: Yup. 

P: Boobies maybe?

P: A pic I haven’t seen before?

She scrolled through her camera roll.

P: I was joking.

P: Sort of. Not really.

P: Please don’t do anything reckless.

She sent him a picture.

P: Holy shit.

P: I’m awake.

P: Have I told you I love you today?

Annabeth laughed, pushing her hair behind her ear before she brought her screen up to type her response.

"Sweetheart, I’d like to assume that you aren’t the reason Percy is openly texting during his commencement ceremony."

Annabeth’s head jerked up and to the side as she hastily locked her phone.

There wasn't a single adult that Annabeth adored as much as she did Sally Jackson-Blofis, but also maybe feared a little bit? It was the mother of her boyfriend (future mother-in-law?) thing. Sally loved her like one of her very own, but on the topics of misdemeanors, misbehavior and all the other ways she could be corrupting Sally's beloved firstborn child, Annabeth lost every bit of her nerve. Blame it on childhood trauma, and her desperation to avoid giving her loved ones a reason not to love her. She'll probably have children of her own and still be looking for Sally's approval.

Annabeth winced in Sally's direction. "Sorry."

Sally didn't appear to be truly bothered as she looked out into the field, "At least he's not sleeping anymore."

P: Why is he yelling now?

P: Does he think yelling will make this any easier to bear?!?!?!

P: Praise Olympus he's finishing I think.

P: So you're ignoring?

P: You woke me up, just to leave me hanging?

P: Cold hearted 😔

P: I won’t forget this

P: mark my words

P: you’ll rue this day

A: We've been busted.

A: Stop texting. Focus on commencing.

P: Busted how?

P: By who?

A: Your mom does not approve

P: Tell her I'd be passed out on the field if you hadn't texted me.

A: No. 

A: You tell her.

The bubble appeared, indicating that he was replying, then it vanished.

Annabeth got a notification of a group text, the group consisting of herself, Percy and Sally.

P: Mom I'd be passed out on the field if Annabeth hadn't texted me.

S: Get off of your phone now 😡

By the grace of the gods, the speaker finally wrapped up his monotonous ramblings. All that was left was the handing out of diplomas and the final address.

The rest of the ceremony passed in an energetic blur. There was a familial spirit in the stadium; people shouting and whistling and blowing horns and instruments to announce on no uncertain terms, 'yes, that's my loved one, I'm proud of them.' She felt it around her, in her. It made her holler for Frank, and whistle for Tobe and Simon, the other graduating seniors that lived in that little New Rome apartment that had been a second home to her. It made her stand up and jump with Sally when Percy's name was called. It made her scream louder and more joyously than she could recall ever screaming in her life.

And then it was done, and everybody was screaming again but also moving.

She turned to see Paul lifting Estelle onto his back as people seemingly began shifting around them at once, more or less in the same direction.

"The parking lot situation is going to be a nightmare," said Paul, worriedly observing the churning crowds.

"No, I can't imagine this small town gets this many people more than once a year." Sally picked up stray programs and their bag of snacks. "If we hurry, we can get out of the parking lot before there's too much of a bottle neck."

They were on the move.

"Can I use the restroom?" This was from Estelle.

Paul and Sally exchanged a look. "Oh sweetie. Is it bad? Do you have to go right now?"

"No, only a little."

"Do you think you can hold it?"

Estelle nodded confidently, one arm tightened around Paul’s neck while the other adjusted the lopsided hat on her head.

"Okay. That's what's gonna have to happen, because I doubt the bathroom lines are going to be bearable." Sally increased her pace, leading them out of the stands. "We just need to grab Percy, we'll meet everyone at the restaurant, Estelle can use the restroom there, and... yeah." She looked back to see everyone's expressions. "Does that sound like a plan?"

Annabeth gave her own confident nod. “I’ll go find him,” she said. 

The group split, Paul, Sally and Estelle making a break for the parking lot, and Annabeth doubling back towards one of the field entries/exits, hunting down Percy's tall form in the outpouring of students shrouded in purple.

Annabeth spotted him, doing one of those handshake hugs with someone she didn’t know, nodding and laughing as they were carried with the flood exiting the tunnels.

She hadn’t even meant to, but she found herself practically running towards him, weaving through a sea of purple figures until she was right there in front of him, throwing her arms around his neck as he picked her up to wrap her in a bear of an embrace. 

“Oh man,” he was chuckling at her enthusiastic display. “I knew you’d find me irresistible with a bachelor's degree.”

Laughter bubbled from her when he started spinning with her in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his hips to avoid hitting someone nearby with a flying limb.

He stumbled to a stop and, faces close, they both started speaking at the same time.

“Well I’m glad that’s over with-”

“I’m so proud of you-”

There was a steady thump of drums and harmonic cries of horns and pipes in the background: a celebratory soundtrack. Percy’s cap got dislodged when Annabeth sunk her hand into the hair at the back of his head to hold him in place and plant an enthusiastic kiss on his mouth.

He pulled back slightly after a moment thusly engaged. “You’re gonna make everyone jealous," he breathed with a smile. "Or at least uncomfortable.”

“Who cares?” She brought their faces back together and stroked her mouth over his. He responded immediately, parting her lips with his own and sliding his tongue into her mouth because honestly it was go big or go home and he’d decided that, today, he was entitled to a bit of a display. She had been snacking on oranges throughout the ceremony, not that he knew that until now, when he tasted the tangy story of it in the corners and surfaces of her mouth. He hiked her higher up with his hand on her thigh, her sandal clattered to the cement, and the loss of her shoe was enough to bring them back to reality.

They pulled apart, breathing loud and grinning like mad. Annabeth nodded to her shoe on the ground. Percy shrugged. She stuck her tongue out at him and he darted forward to lick the tip of her nose. There was that invisible string, connecting them, and they were grinning again, they couldn’t look away, they couldn’t help themselves.

She unwrapped one leg from his hips and reached for her shoe with her toes, finally finding the displaced sandal when she broke their connection and dragged her attention from his face to search the floor around them. Once she was properly shoe’d, he lowered her to the cement, adjusting her dress to fall smoothly at her thighs.

"Where’s everyone?" He trailed his hands down her arms and took her hands in his.

"Trying to get out of the parking lot before it becomes unbearable.” She fixed his cap back into place. They were jostled by a passing trio, and Annabeth got immediately shoulder checked by another hustling grad. “Come on," she tugged him forward. "I’m supposed to take you in that direction."

"Lead the way."

They set off, falling into step with each other, his arm wrapped around her waist and hers wrapped around his.

"Jackson! Annabeth!" They saw Frank, Hazel and Nico making a determined beeline in their direction.

The two groups fought their way to each other.

“I’m proud of you Percy,” Hazel fit herself to Percy’s open side for a brief hug. All of them were getting jostled, it seemed forward was the way to move.

“I guess they let anyone graduate these days.”

“Nico!”

Annabeth and Frank embraced.

“Hey guys,” Annabeth reluctantly pulled away from Frank. “Look, we've gotta hurry. Sally and them are pulling out of the parking lot.” She and Percy shared a nod. “And we shouldn’t keep them waiting. But we’ll see you at the restaurant!”

“At the place in Berkeley?”

“Yup! And congrats Frank! See ya there!” She called as they hurried off.

They moved away from the stadium now and headed into one of the main parking lots.

“You see them?” Percy asked.

“No… yes! There they are. White Toyota.”

“Yeah, I see ‘em.”

They jogged across the lot and jaywalked to reach the spot where Paul had pulled over.

Estelle was the first to comment as soon as the door popped open. “I saw you on the grass!” 

“I saw you in the stands,” Percy shot back as he and Annabeth slid into the rental vehicle.

“Congrats Percy. This is a big moment.” From Paul.

Sally was quiet, just looking at him through the rear view mirror with full eyes and a small smile.

“Aw Ma-” This only seemed to escalate things, Sally tearing for real as the car started moving.

“I am so–” she paused, gathering herself. “So proud of you sweetheart. That's all.” 

“Thanks,” he leaned forward and kissed her cheek over the back of her seat. “But also please don’t make a big deal about it. This celebration is for you too.”

She made a face like she was really attempting the no-tears thing and touched his hand where it rested on her seat. 

“You’ve grown up so much-”

“Aww ma please-”

“No Percy, stop,” she moved his hand from where it was inching to cover her mouth. “Don’t you put that grimy hand on my mouth- Let me say this.”

He leaned his forehead against the back of her seat.

“All of us know how hard you have worked. I’m not just talking about grades. Both of you.” Annabeth, who had just been watching their exchange, sat up straighter when she was addressed. “You two and all your friends have worked through and survived more than most of the world population will ever survive in their lifetimes and you’re barely above drinking age!” She located some restaurant napkins in the glove compartment before refocusing on Percy, who looked apprehensive at best. 

Cars in front of them honked as drivers struggled with the roundabouts and they weren’t so far from the stadium that they couldn’t hear the faint sound of a voice on the loudspeaker.

“You’re my son-” 

“I'm your daughter!” Estelle chirped from her booster seat, tired of being ignored.

“Yes you are, baby. My rockstar princess.” Sally smiled at the girl.

“You,” she said with emphasis, attention back on Percy, she was not going to let him off the hook, “what feels like just a second ago, were the little boy who asked for blue candy from the shop and tried so hard to carry the weight of the world on his little shoulders.”

Percy turned his head, still pressed to the back of the seat in front of him, and made an exasperated face at Annabeth who made a tight lipped, ‘don't be rude’ expression right back.

“And even though,” all of them rocked as Paul hit a speed bump with a little too much force, “even though you’ve grown a lot bigger and stronger since then, I still see you carrying so much burden and it hurts my heart, it always will.” He shifted up at this, resting his chin on the shoulder of her seat while his hand sought hers out to grab onto.

“But you just did a really big thing for yourself. For  you  .” She tightened her hand around his for emphasis. “And I know you say you did it for me or Annabeth or Estelle, but I know you did this for you. And  that , you choosing yourself, makes me so damn proud.” 

“Ma…”

“My little boy. You are so extraordinary.” She squeezed his hand again. “But you’re also my little boy.”

She looked past Percy to Annabeth. “Thank you for keeping him out of trouble. For taking care of him.”

At this point, Annabeth was emotional too, hugging herself as she blinked away tears. “We take care of each other.”

“I know. He’s a caseload though. You don’t have to lie, I had him for 18 years.”

“I love you Ma. You didn’t have to say all of that.” 

“I know, I just,” she waved a dismissive hand in the air, trying to compose herself. “Big day! Big weekend.” Her hand lowered to impatiently swipe the tears off of her cheek.

Estelle, who had been watching with wide eyes, felt it was time again to intervene. “Don’t cry. It's okay,” her little hand patted Annabeth’s right arm, comforting her in the best way she could. She looked at her mom. “Don't cry mommy. It's okay.”

Paul cleared his throat. “These are good tears Stelle-belle. Happy tears.”

“Okay,” she sat back in her seat, hands under her thighs, only half believing her dad.

Percy turned to his sister and tickled her sides. “You better believe I’m happy. No more school? And I get to come back to New York?” She screeched and pushed his hands away.

“You’re gonna come back with us?” 

He tugged on one of her long, brown curls. “Well, I’m not flying back with you guys. But in about a month, Annabeth and I are moving back to New York.”

“You’re gonna have your room back?”

“No, we’re gonna have our own place.”

“You’ll see us all the time,” Annabeth added.

Estelle gave Percy a long look.

“So are you getting married?”

Paul started chuckling. Annabeth opened her mouth but no noise came out. 

Percy, the smug, sweet bastard, cut his eyes over to his girlfriend and grinned, “Yeah, eventually.”

“My teacher is moving to Texas with his girlfriend and they’re getting married.”

“Well Annabeth and I are gonna live in sin for a bit–”

“Percy! If you don’t… ” Sally, who was giving Paul directions, paused to scold him.

“What’s that?” Estelle sensed a forbidden topic in the air and was on its trail like a bloodhound.

“That means we’re gonna get a dog,” Annabeth succinctly ended the conversation. The look she sent Percy’s way now said, ‘you can shut up.”

#mypjofic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy and annabeth #percabeth #pjo

[rafael-silva]

38. Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt - bc this is def something joe and nicky do

thank you! and they absolutely do! 

joenicky + #38. letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt | from this prompt list

FLUFF, domestic fluff, domesticity, softness, comfort, seriously there’s so much fluff

It’s been a rough winter. Turning on his side and looking out of their balcony window, Joe’s eyes scan an endless horizon covered in snow, sun hooded by clouds in the sky. He catches glimpses of his reflection staring back at him, his bedridden hair and thick beard.

Nicky had left twenty minutes ago to get some groceries for dinner. He got dressed while watching Joe stretch out in bed, having just woken up from a nap, the heated room allowing him to be in just a soft cotton t-shirt and boxers. He smiled sleepily at Nicky, stretching out some more and stifling a yawn. Joe’s smile widened when he noticed that Nicky was holding a scarf that Joe had gifted him recently. A soft, green cashmere scarf he found while buying some supplies for their last mission. He says it brings out the color in Nicky’s eyes. Eyes Joe would happily stare into for the rest of his life.

Nicky looked up from where he was tying his shoe laces and the way Joe’s eyes crinkle as he smiled at him? Nicky feels his own smile spread in reciprocation. And that silver sparkle dancing around his husband’s eyes? Yeah, Nicky could easily sing his own poetry about how even after centuries together, it makes his heart leap around his chest. At times, Nicky stops, looks at Joe in wonder, his thought: this man is mine.

Joe offered to go with Nicky to the store two blocks down the road, but Nicky had shaken his head, grabbing a coat, which Joe suspects belongs to him (Nicky always did prefer wearing Joe’s clothes), his gloves and walks around to the empty side of their bed. Joe feels the soft mattress dip with Nicky’s weight, his body swaying a little, still heavy with sleep. His love balances himself on one knee and closes the gap between them with a tender kiss.

“Stay. Keep the bed warm for me,” Nicky had mumbled against Joe’s lips. “I won’t be long.”

Joe smiled against Nicky’s mouth and gave him another kiss. A silent promise.

Nicky turns on his heels and makes his way towards the door, only turning to give Joe one last smile over his shoulder and leaves.

And now, watching the scenery outside, a smile tugs on Joe’s face at the memory. He feels sleep pull at him from all edges and decides to go with it. With a palm laid on Nicky’s pillow that smells like him, he drifts off, engulfed in the warm and comforting scent that belongs to the owner of his heart.

Nicky returns to find Joe asleep, and in that moment, wishes he were the artist so he could sketch this perfect scene. Instead, he pauses in his tracks, a recyclable bag in each hand filled with dinner necessities, and his eyes capture the view like a camera shutter. He tucks it into his mind, along with decades and decades worth of memories with this beautiful man.

He moves around the studio as quietly as possible, storing everything where it belongs, in cupboards and in the fridge. With a peek at the clock hanging on the red brick wall, he decides they still have some time before they start on dinner. He moves further down the kitchen counter to where the coffee pot sits empty and cold, he pulls out Joe’s favorite coffee brand, his own favorite tea and gets to work, knowing Joe will want some caffeine intake once he’s awake and Nicky could use a good, warm cup of tea himself.

Nicky turns around just as he hears his name called from behind. Although it’s more of a whisper rather than a call.

“Nicolo.”

Nicky always found Joe’s deep, sleep-laced voice attractive.

He turns to find Joe squinting at him and quite honestly, looking absolutely adorable.

“Ciao, amore mio,” Nicky replies. Hello, my love. “I see you have, indeed, kept the bed warm for me,” he smirks.

“Warmer with you here,” Joe half says, half mumbles, clearly still working on fully waking up. He reaches out his arm towards Nicky, barely harnessing enough energy as it hangs in the air for a few seconds before falling down next to his body, a gesture that spells out come here, I’ve missed you. “Nico.”

Nicky chuckles. It was always intriguing watching the process of Joe waking up. “Sono qui.” I’m here. He kicks off his shoes and does as he promised, sliding into bed and immediately gravitates towards his husband.

Joe wastes no time in tucking his face into the crook of Nicky’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent he knows by heart and soul, the scent that is all Nicolo and lets out a content sigh. In return, Nicky wraps a hand around Joe’s shoulder and draws him in close.

“Hi habibi,” Joe whispers, his eyes closed. My love.

Nicky replies with a kiss planted on the top of Joe’s head. He closes his eyes, savoring this moment, as he held Joe, both of them breathing in sync. Hearts beating as one.

Nicky begins running his hand up and down Joe’s arm, hand colliding with bare skin, a movement he knows relaxes his partner.

“Your hand is cold,” Joe mutters.

“Hm?”

Joe opens one eye and looks up at Nicky. “Your hand is cold,” he repeats. “Were you wearing your gloves, amore mio?”

“Si,” Nicky nods. “It’s really cold outside. I don’t think they helped much.”

“Hmm,” Joe studies Nicky’s face for a moment. “Come here.”

A weird shuffling happens as Joe rearranges them on the bed, limbs moving all over the place until he’s satisfied. With his own hand, Joe takes Nicky’s cold ones and slips them underneath his own shirt, the sudden press of Nicky’s icy fingers to his hot skin prompts a little escaped hiss from him.

Nicky moves to pull back—there are other ways to heat his hands, he doesn’t need to freeze his husband in the process—but Joe’s hold on his arms stops him.

“It’s okay, Nico, it’s already passed,” Joe reassures him. “And your hands are already getting warmer.”

Nicky does feel that, and with Joe’s words, relaxes as he feels the coldness seep out of his skin.

It’s always been like this, whether it’s summer or winter, Joe runs hot, while Nicky runs slightly cooler.

Nicky slowly starts tracing Joe’s skin with warming fingertips, in a way he knows tickles the other man. And true to that, Joe’s squirming in a matter of seconds and a couple of honest to God giggles escape him before transforming into deep, hearty laughs.

“Is this what I get for wanting you to be warm?” Joe teases around a chuckle.

“I love hearing your laugh, habib albi,” Nicky replies. My heart’s love.

“And I,” Joe presses a kiss to Nicky’s lips, “love you.”

Nicky gazes into Joe’s brown irises, getting lost in the depth, beauty and sincerity looking back at him. It takes his breath away. “I love you, Yusuf.”

With another smile and a soft kiss, Joe pulls back. “I smell coffee.”

Nicky nods and moves his eyes over to the counter where the coffee is ready, the pot filled and steaming.

Joe follows Nicky’s movement. “Did I tell you how much I love you?” He happily sighs, leaning back against the pillow and taking Nicky with him.

Nicky snickers, easily going with Joe and rests his head on Joe’s chest. “You can always tell me again.”

Joe’s reply is cut off and turns into another laugh as Nicky once again tickles him. His hands are warm now, but he keeps them plastered to Joe’s skin.

“The coffee is getting cold,” Joe says once he manages to take in a deep breath after a few more deep laughs.

Nicky moves his head and presses a gentle kiss to Joe’s neck. “I worked way too hard to let that coffee pot go cold.”

Joe playfully rolls his eyes at his husband. “I would hate for your hard work to go to waste. Come on, amore. You could use a cup of tea, too.”

#the old guard #the old guard fic #joe x nicky #joenicky #joenicky fic #useremmaa #usermarwan #usercacau #userjilly #benjisvictor #buckleyevan #missashley #userkayla #tuservi #usershan #bookersebastien #userthai #tusermj #dailyreblogs #*fics #I hope you enjoy!!! #this is seriously so fluffy and domestic and soft!!! #thank you emma for inspiring me and motivating me to continue this!! #I owe it all to you! #i haven't forgotten about the prompts i still have i promise!

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

“I’m in love,” Piper tells her when she shows up for another fitting. “Have you seen the new Beyonce video?”

“I heard the song.” Annabeth says, “isn’t that enough?”

“God, your whole play-acting thing is too far if you’re pretending to not like Beyonce.”

“I never said that.” Annabeth holds up her hands, “I like the song. But I did not see the video.”

“Well, when you see it, you’ll be in love too, but I will fight you.”

Piper could be scrappy in a fight. But Annabeth had been a champion fencer in high school.

“Kidding!” Piper says at her look. “There’s plenty of them to go around.” She didn’t even start to drape fabric over Annabeth, pushing her onto a muslin covered couch, and then pulling the video on the TV. She didn’t have one of those voice control devices. Because she was friends with Leo, and he was pretty firm on them being evil. “But I do call dibs on the main guy. The CALVES. The thighs. He’s unreal.”

“That good?” Piper went all ways, though as of late she gravitated towards women more often than not, so this was some high praise indeed. 

“Unreal, I am telling you. Like, the hand of God came down and sculpted him personally out of marble.”

Already in her recent watch history, the thumbnail of the video greets them, the song title splashed across the TV screen, weaving between  a very, very familiar set of legs. 

Like, intimately familiar. 

In something of detached horror, she watches the camera pan up, lovingly lingering on every inch of bare skin, following the muscles of his calves (which were unreal) to his knees then his thighs (which Annabeth had spent almost too much time between now), up his torso and his chest (which she knew made for an excellent pillow) to Percy’s face, set in a firm, hard stare. 

And that fucking blue lipstick again. 

She can’t even focus on Beyonce herself, too distracted by the way her hand traces the length of Percy’s outstretched thigh held in perfect arabesque as she gracefully drapes herself over him, crooning softly into his ear.

Annabeth should do that next time. That’s her spot, after all. 

Tearing her eyes away from the screen even as Piper watches, enraptured, she slips out her phone, sending a quick, furious text. 

annabeth: BEYONCE???????

A minute, then he responds. 

percy: oh lol i didn’t realize that came out today 😁

percy: what’d you think?

annabeth: i think im going to kill you later

“Just look at him,” Piper says, pausing on Percy’s form, his arms outstretched, fingers placed delicately around a bar. “I mean--look at him!”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, maybe a little uneasy. “He’s alright I guess.”

Incredulous, Piper swivels her head. “Alright? Alright? Do you need your eyes checked?”

She just shrugs. 

Why is she being so weird about this? It’s just Piper. She’s trained to find symmetry and beauty in bodies. They’ve happily shared crushes and fixations plenty of times before, so why is Annabeth being so weird about Percy? It’s not like they’re… you know… dating or anything. Just hooking up a bit. 

Piper squints at her, then shrugs herself. “Fine. I don’t have time to get an answer out of you anyway. Come on.”

“Speaking of time,” Annabeth says, following Piper back into the kitchen studio, “I have to head out by 6:30.”

“Oh yeah?” Piper’s head is buried in her belt box, searching for the perfect accent. “What for?”

“I’ve got a show to catch.”

“Kind of early,” she says, pulling out something thin and silver. “Don’t you usually meet Thalia at the ass crack of midnight?”

“Well I kind of want to eat first.”

“Okay.” She cinches the belt around her waist, tight. “Then you’re going to have to help me with this skirt.”

***

Hands aching from hours of macrame, Annabeth walks up to the box office window at the Koch Theater at 7:46, having a handful of second thoughts. 

Old, uppity white couples keep shooting her some particularly intense passive aggressive glares, some of them even venturing into actually aggressive territory, which usually wouldn’t even register on her very short list of things to care about, except that she is feeling woefully out of place. The lady in front of her has ten pounds of diamonds hanging off of each old, wrinkly ear, and the best Annabeth could do was fish out her least-ripped pair of jeans, pairing it with one of her nicer black shirts, the sleeves long enough to cover most of her tattoos. The macrame kept her longer than she had meant, so she didn’t have time to change before dinner, but fuck it, right?

She did also take out most of her face jewelry on the way. But she left the nose stud, obviously. And the tongue piercing. And the industrial, because Percy really likes those, so she doesn’t feel that bad about it. And he hadn’t even told her about this until after she had already given herself the half-undercut, so it’s not like she could do anything about that either.

“Can I help you?” At least this box office worker isn’t giving her the stink-eye. 

“I’m here to pick up a ticket? Should be under ‘Jackson.’” He’d offered to leave it under her name, but this was safer. She doesn’t think her mom is a big ballet person, but she isn’t about to risk it, either.

She slides the ticket towards Annabeth beneath the glass plane. “Enjoy the show,” she says, with a quirk of her mouth that is surprisingly sincere for someone in customer service. 

She’s pretty sure she’d enjoy the show more if she weren’t panicking thinking about getting dirt on their fancy carpets. Her boots are clean, of course, and she doesn’t really care, but she doesn’t want to, like, embarrass Percy or whatever. She’d asked him if she should dress up, but he’d assured her otherwise. “No one’s going to care, I promise,” he’d told her the night before, her lounging in his bed while he did some pushups. “And if anyone says something, let me know and we can kick their ass after the show together.”

“Great. Guess I don’t have to break out the Chanel, then.”

He’d paused, frowned, then huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Like the idea of Annabeth wearing Chanel was hilarious. Like what she’s wearing tonight really is the best that she can do.

Self-consciousness isn’t really a feeling that Annabeth has anymore. She’s spent so many years chafing against expectations, shucking them off when she inevitably failed to meet them, desperate for a place, a crowd where she could just be. In her scene, she doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, and when Percy is out with her, he doesn’t need any convincing. He likes her. He likes her a lot, she thinks. He likes her enough to let himself be dragged out to every shitty dive bar and shittier rock show in New York City, laughing and cheering and holding her close the whole time. He likes her enough to cart her to his apartment at 4 AM, inevitably waking Nico up from his undead slumber, and leave her with nothing but a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead. And she likes him, too--a lot. Annabeth likes Percy enough to ditch her band t-shirts for a night and track mud on the carpet of the Koch Theater and willingly sit through a performance of fucking Swan goddamn Lake of all things, and it’s only a little scary how much she is willing to do for him after only a few months of fucking him. Because this really isn’t her scene, not anymore. 

The weight of everyone’s stares bears down on her, threatening to crush her beneath them, a feeling she was so sure she’d left behind. 

At least Percy had been thoughtful enough to get her a ticket out of the way in the back of one of the balcony sections. It’s a bit of a hike, but the audience members aren’t dressed quite as nicely as the ones downstairs, and she feels like she can breathe a little easier.

She pulls out her phone, checking her text messages on instinct. There’s a selfie from Percy in his stage makeup (and she’s not going to lie… he looks fucking pretty), with his standard accompanying three blue heart emojis. She can’t help it, her heart skips a beat and she can’t help but smile, even as she rolls her eyes. She’s just about to send him something appropriately sarcastic when another text notification slides in. It’s from her father. 

Hi Annabeth… I was talking to a friend in Boston who said he's looking for a new 

prospective in his architecture firm. Passed your information along. 

Love you, dear

She swipes it away. Deletes the whole text conversation, for good measure. 

Forget about him. This night is about Percy.

A few minutes later, so engrossed in Percy’s program bio (it’s about all she can focus on right now), she doesn’t even notice everyone around her leaning forward in breathless anticipation, until the warm, honey-like sound of the oboe draws her head up. 

Roughly two minutes in, she’s really wishing she had attempted the synopsis. The extent of her knowledge of Swan Lake is a few half-remembered orchestra rehearsals in her teens and reading the Wikipedia article on that Natalie Portman movie a few months ago, and she definitely doesn’t recall there being anything about any Men-in-Tights looking motherfuckers prancing around. They’re sort of bobbing, back and forth, elegantly stepping from one side of the stage to another. Even from back here, she can see the delicate, precise placement of their hands, fingers curved just so, moving through space as though they aren’t bound by the laws of physics.

The fingers, she remembers. She could never get the hang of the fingers. Her old ballet teacher had given up on them after a week, and that had been the beginning of the end for that particular extracurricular. 

Now her fingers tap on her jeans, impatient, far faster than the easy going music on stage. She’s just about to give in to the millennial instinct and pull out her phone, maybe play a round of sudoku, when the dancers motion as one to the back corner, and Percy comes stepping out. His hair is perfectly slicked back, gelled down, any hint of curl beaten into submission, and his smile is small, but white, gleaming against the tanned brown of his skin. She can’t help but smile back, like he could somehow see her. Finally, she thinks, relaxing a little more into her seat. Something to watch.

On his off days, her off days, any day when she would spent the night at his (always at his, never at hers) and wake up wrapped in his comforter and the smell of seawater, she would take the blanket with her and steal into his living room, curl up on his couch with her feet tucked under her legs, and watch him dance. She’s seen him drill these sequences over, and over, and over again, counting furious sequences of sixes and eights beneath his breath in duet with the thuds of his feet on his floor. Most times he would notice her and shoot her a grin, granting her permission to observe the artist at work. Sometimes, though, he would be so caught up in his body, the shifting of his feet and the music in his head, that it was like he couldn’t see her at all. Seemingly alone, he would dance, uninhibited, and she would be struck by a feeling that she usually reserves for specific monuments. Watching Percy dance in his apartment, in his brown tights and black tank top, lost in his own world, is like looking at pictures of the Gateway Arch, or the Hoover Dam, or the Parthenon.

She searches for that feeling now, leaning forward in her seat, eyes hungrily raving his form, but she just doesn’t see it. It’s… honestly, it’s a little boring. She won’t lie. He had warned her it would be something of a slow start, but this isn’t exactly an ADHD friendly medium, and she is losing her patience, just a bit. He’s so reserved, like he’s holding something close to his chest, impersonal as he takes the hands of the female dancers and lets them twirl around him. 

Personally, Annabeth thinks that he looks kind of lost. Maybe he’s just nervous--it’s a big role and he’s a young guy. But he had seemed fine when he’d kissed her goodbye just after lunch. 

The court jester is killing it though. Feeling just the slightest bit guilty, she lets her eyes drift over to him, deciding to watch him for a while instead.

On some level, she does appreciate the skill on display here. Percy can raise his back leg in a perfect ninety degree angle that would make her architecture professors sweat. The girls drift back and forth across the stage on the tips of their toes, weightless and ethereal. It’s mesmerizing, and she lets herself be mesmerized.

Time must slip away from her, because she blinks and all of a sudden the stage has gone from sunny yellow to cool blue, the crowds of dancers having vanished. He is alone on stage. Percy kneels in a deep lunge that makes her thighs ache just looking at him (and for… other reasons), his arms and his attention pointed to the wings, with a… Annabeth squints. When the hell did he get a crossbow?

But everything is swept to the sides when the White Swan tiptoes her way on stage, impossibly graceful, and all of a sudden, Annabeth gets it. 

It feels a little cliche to say, but the way that woman moves on the floor really does remind her of those old, vintage jewelry boxes, suspended in animation, moved by some otherworldly force. It’s amazing. It’s a little terrifying. Sublime is the word that comes to mind as Annabeth watches her. Her arms move with fluidity, perfect curves, her fingers trailing behind her like wings. 

And Percy is just as mesmerized as Annabeth is. As the audience is. 

A few things hit her, in rapid succession. First, that Percy is, actually, a really good actor. His reticence before--he’d been playing a character. He’d been playing aloof and reserved and unmoored, because Percy--Siegfried--whatever--has been waiting his whole life for something to fulfill him, until this singular moment, the moment he laid eyes on this beautiful creature. Second, that she doesn’t need words to understand what’s going on. It’s all there, in every look and gesture and step, as the two characters circle each other, slowly but irrevocably falling in love. And third, that she recognizes the look on his face. It’s the look that Percy gives her when she has been talking for too long and he can’t get a word in edgewise, or when she screams along to the god awful underground bands, three beers in and missing every single fuck she’d ever had, or when she wakes up after him to Percy’s arms around her waist, her hair in his mouth and her head resting against his collarbone. She recognizes it, because that’s the look that Siegfried has for Odette. Because that’s the look that Percy has for Annabeth. Because he loves her.

And fourth, that that doesn’t make her as happy as she wishes it would. 

There’s a cold pit in her stomach for the rest of the show, a turning screw that twists in deeper, minute by minute, with every turn of the dancers. She wastes the next hour trying to puzzle this out, not even pretending to watch the drama unfolding on stage, because it makes no goddamn sense. (Her situation, not the ballet--she managed to skim the synopsis during intermission, her foot tapping incessantly against the blessedly empty seat in front of her.) Things are great between them. It’s been a heady, intoxicating four months, full of bubbles and butterflies, sweet, soft mornings, and some really, really phenomenal sex. This should make her happy. This should put her over the fucking moon, and she cannot, for the life of her, figure out why it doesn’t.

The prima ballerina comes back out as the Black Swan, just as poised and precise as her counterpart, but she’s a great actress as well, because there is something undeniably different about her. Her arms move like rubber, like joints are just an afterthought, wrapping themselves around Percy’s neck and shoulders. She misdirects his attention, drawing his eyes to her wrists, her clavicle, the curve of a leg or the point of her toe. Seducing him. Tricking him. 

Like Annabeth. 

Because try as she might to run from it, Annabeth isn’t who she says she is. She wants so desperately to be this fuck-the-rules, fight-the-power, punk rock princess that she took every part of her that didn’t fit that image and tried to rip it out of her, bloody and struggling. Her trust fund, her two (two!) Harvard degrees, her enriched childhood and her bright and shining future; she took it all out back and shot it, and prayed that would be the end of it. She’s a phony, just like that goddamn Black Swan. Percy is in love with a phony. 

Her sweet, wonderful, devastatingly kind and handsome Percy--she tricked him and made him fall in love with a mishmash of archetypes and aesthetics, distracting him with nose piercings and ripped t-shirts and ugly, deafening noise. 

She’s not surprised that she’s crying when the curtain falls. She’d never known that Siegfried and Odette both died at the end. 

When the cast reunites for curtain call, Percy is given a standing ovation, and Annabeth enthusiastically joins in, wiping the tears from her eyes, smearing her makeup. 

She doesn’t wait for him at the stage door, but sits on the steps of the theater, plucking at her sleeves, aching for a drink and wishing she had had the presence of mind to wear something a little nicer. Percy finds her there almost an hour after the show ended. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

In the dark of night, illuminated only by streetlamps, she can’t read his face--but she can read exhaustion, in every part of his body. “I was waiting for you by the stage door.”

Something in her stomach goes cold. “I… wasn’t sure if I was allowed,” she offers, weakly. 

He smiles, a light in the dark. “Of course you’re allowed,” he says, offering her a hand. “Shall we?”

She knows what will happen next. She’ll take his hand, and they’ll walk to the subway together, fingers intertwined. They’ll get on the 1 train headed north, and Percy will let her rest her head against him, tilting his head back against the window, eyes closed, almost asleep. The doorman will nod at them as they walk up to Nico’s apartment, barely batting an eye at his sweats and her ripped jeans, the two of them sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of impeccably dressed rich New Yorkers. Nico will wave at them distractedly from his office, gulping down his sixth coffee of the night, and they’ll tiptoe into his room, falling asleep in each other’s arms with little more than a good night kiss. 

Which, of course, is exactly what does end up happening.

Almost. 

Annabeth crawls on top of him in his bed, kissing him soft and senseless. She doesn’t know where he’s getting this energy from, but she is not complaining as he slips up inside of her, the two of them rocking each other gently to orgasm, their foreheads pressed together. Shuddering as he comes, he captures her mouth in another kiss, pouring every ounce of love he has in him into her.

A waste, honestly. 

But as far as goodbye sex, it’s pretty damn great. 

She needs to end this, before either of them get hurt. It’s the least of what he deserves, after all. To put yourself out there, to offer yourself up like that, that might be the bravest thing Annabeth’s ever heard of, and surely, Annabeth can find the courage to do what needs to be done.

#whomp whomp!! #ballet au #pjo fic #my fic #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Thirteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Twelve ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Fourteen

I position myself in the center of the panel, making the 104th pose that morning. Brandon guides me from one shot to the next, making everything easier.

Six makeups. Six hairstyles. Six changes of clothes, even though the focus was on my face. Why did I get into this?

The photo shoot was for a cosmetics brand, for which I was the cover girl. It wasn't a 7-headed bug, as I had been thinking all night, which resulted in an irritating insomnia. And even though I arrived shy and lost, when I saw my look all produced, I felt like a great hottie, which gave me the confidence to go to that studio and rock.

I was having fun, as Leah advised me. I threw my hair, made faces and danced. I shifted my attention between Brandon's camera and my cell phone, where Nico, one of the helpers, was filming behind the scenes and stirring up my social medias.

It's fun, but after the fourth change of clothes, I was exhausted. After all, that spotlight doesn't leave me and the light gets too hot.

“For you.” Nico hands me a pink lilies bouquet. I open a smile, confused.

The team that was with me today, the agency, the brand and my parents had already sent me some bouquets earlier today, congratulating me and celebrating my return to the fashion world. So whose would it be?

I hunt for the card, opening it in a rush. Nico rested his head on my shoulder, wanting to read along with me. The handwriting didn't make me doubt, they were Luke's.

“To make your day more beautiful.

Congratulations on your return.

Love, Hemmo.”

I open a smile completely shaken by that. I burst out laughing when I see under his name “and the rest of 5sos” written in a different hand.

I ask Nico to take a picture of me with the flowers and send it to him, who quickly responds with a Petunia figure with heart eyes. I know I need to drop the bouquet and go back to the photos, but it feels so difficult.

Finally, I leave the flowers to the dressing room and I focus myself. Brandon praises my goofy smile and begs me to keep it up.

I knew everyone wanted to come today and watch the photo shoot, but I begged so hard not to. If without anyone I was already terrified of, seeing everyone there, staring at me, I wouldn't leave the dressing room.

[...]

Leah and Kiki were at my house, getting ready for Ashton's birthday, and of course, to gossip. They were both super curious to know how my first shoot was and how I was feeling.

besides telling about work, I comment about Luke's flowers and, finally, I tell about yesterday's dreams that still haven't left my head, taking root in my mind, blooming when I least expect it and leaving me out of breath.

“Oh, you naughty one!” Hastings tosses me the pillow. "Are you going to tell him?" she sits up in bed.

“No! How do I tell this?” I question, not understanding.

“Luke, I remembered when we were like two pervert rabbits and we were always having sex in the corners. Simple.” Kiki shrugs, going back to making up her eyes.

“Kiki!" I reprimand her. I hide my face, laughing embarrassed. "We weren't like that…I think…were we?" I look quickly at both of them.

Kiki looks at Leah, holding back her laughter. The brunette stares at me in disbelief. Oh my God, we were! It takes time to sink in, because with Stephen, I avoided sex at all costs. It was so cold and awkward, that most of the time I was bruised and, in all cases, unfulfilled.

I remember the touch of the dream and how it felt so soft and intense, and so good. However, I still find it hard for me to have been so turned on that I started having sex everywhere.

“Are you sure?” I ask suspiciously.

"Oh, honey! I will have to tell you about my dad's birthday, have I?" Leah hugs me, making Kiki laugh.

"What about your father's birthday?" the same way I was feared of Luke when he started telling me about the day I threw up at his feet, I get with Leah.

“Well, it was my dad's 50th birthday. A big, big party and of course I invited all of you. We had just got back from Milan, you were away from Luke for a couple of weeks, so you’re kinda getting crazy by missing him.

"Make it crazy." Kiki comments.

“The plan was for us to arrive in the morning, you'd have time to see each other, and then in the evening we would go to the party. But our flight was delayed and you didn't have that time. So you decided to open the bathroom.” Leah gives a fake smile.

I took a few seconds to understand, and then I widen my eyes, wanting to sink into the ground. I can't believe we did this.

“Calm down! She didn’t told the best part”. Kiki leaves the bathroom, joining us.

“Oh, that's cool, is there a better part?” I look at them both desperately.

"Of course, there is a best part. Leah escorting you guys out of the bathroom" Kiki throws herself on the bed, laughing. “Oh God! Your faces were the best.”

“Was after that our friendship beat all the limits and you know, we got really close.” Leah smiles to me.

What was my problem? Oh Lord, I never, ever, in my all life, thought I'd give one of those. If anyone asked me, who would be most likely to do this, I would definitely say Leah, Kiki, and even Bethany, but I would never say my name.

What did Luke do to me?!

I look at my friends, shocked. They both start laughing, amused by my reaction. A few seconds later, I give up, starting to laugh too.

"Is there any other similar situation that I should know about?" I inquire with fear.

"Yes, but we don't have time right now." Kiki gets up from the bed, slapping my foot, asking me to get ready.

We turned on the music and continued to get ready. Leah goes down to the kitchen, returning with three beers. The subject changes and we start to gossip.

After hours of producing us, I come down wearing my silver sequin jacket, finding Leah with another beer in her hand.

“Well? Good? Great?” I take a stroll, showing off the leather pants and black tank top that valued my tattoo.

"I definitely would ask for your number!" she replies, making me smile.

"Do you think people will like it? I mean, isn’t that much?” I stop in a few poses while she watches me.

“Rephrase the question.” she leans against the table. I stare at her without understanding. “What you want to know is whether Luke will like it." I open my mouth a few times.

“Perhaps.” I answer softly. Hastings snorts, hiding her face.

“You two should pay for my therapy. Because it's not easy to take it.” she takes a deep breath.

I give a guilty smile. I head to the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila and flipping it quickly. I would find Luke in a few minutes and I still don't know how to face him. I close my eyes, letting the alcohol burn my throat and warm my body, along with the memories. The flashes come back to my mind, clear as water. I can hear the girls' voices again, telling them about Mr. Hastings' 50th birthday.

“Let's go?” Kiki's scream brings me back. Standing near the door, they wait for me to down another shot of tequila before we go.

Along the way, we took several photos, already moving our social medias. At the door of the restaurant, the swarm of paparazzi was already in place and as soon as we got off the car, they surrounded us. Hands and arms linked, the three of us entered, being saved by the huge walls that didn't let them see anything that happened inside.

We went to the back of the restaurant, in a more reserved space, where a long table took up half the back wall. Right away I spot Luke, laughing as he chats with Jack and another guy I don't recognize. I analyze your look, social pants and a black t-shirt.

How can someone look so beautiful, so simple?

I swallow hard when he notices our approach and looks directly at me. I look away, unable to hold on; the images screamed in my mind.

Irwin approaches, already quite excited, trying to hug the three of us at the same time. When Leah and Kiki go to greet the other guests, I calmly hug my best friend, congratulating him once more.

“Make yourself comfortable and behave” he leaves a kiss on my forehead, going to welcome other guests who have just arrived.

I turn in time to see Hemmings approaching, one glass in his hand and the other in his pants pocket. How? I hold my breath, giving a terrified smile. He opens his smile even more.

“Hey!” he says excitedly, close enough for me to hear. Those lips… what have they done… I close my eyes quickly, shutting my mind.

“Hey!” I answer awkwardly.

“How are you doing?” he hugged me, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I close my eyes again, feeling it radiate with amazing speed throughout my body. I let out a breath in a sigh. I manage to catch his eyes as he walks away, hiding a more mischievous smile.

“Well!” my cheeks catch fire and the jacket starts to bother me. "Thanks for the flowers earlier today." I thank, while Luke leads me to the bar. His hand firmly on my waist reminds me of that hotel room. I bite my lip, holding back the urge to bang my head on the counter. "A shot of tequila." I ask desperately.

Luke raises his eyebrows in surprise but says nothing. I turn it over without a single thought, asking for another one, just in case. The heat that spreads through my body is the result of three doses ingested. I take off my jacket and, through the bar mirrors, I see Luke shamelessly sweep my body.

“It was nothing!” he says after clearing his throat. "I'm glad you liked it. So, how was your first shoot?” he leans his elbow on the counter, propping his head on his hand, visually interested.

The effect of the alcohol starts to kick in, and so I feel lighter in his presence, not bothering with the memories between the two of us, nor the fanciful situations that my mind starts to create. I tell about the rehearsal and how fun it really was to do it. In the middle of the answer, I get enthusiastic, telling everything in minute detail. Luke looks at me smiling and interested, without interrupting me.

“I’m sorry!” I cover my eyes, laughing. “I'm talking too much.”

A few more people had already arrived, but the two of us were still there, sitting at the bar. The most interesting thing was, everyone who arrived didn't dare come here and interrupt us.

“No! I love hearing you talk.” he smiles before taking another sip of gin. I lower my gaze, totally ashamed.

"I think we'd better go sit down." I comment, seeing everyone settling into their chairs.

“Let's go?” he offers his hand, helping me off the stool. I hold into his arm, walking to the table. "Should I keep an eye on you today?" he laughs. I repress the urge to say yes, but that's not the answer to his question.

“No! I won't drink that much.” I press my lips together in a thin line, embarrassed by Ash's party.

We sat next to each other, with Calum and Noah in front of us. Luke leans his arm on the back of my chair and I'm not shy about getting close to him, even with everyone in our group staring at us curiously. We embarked on a lively conversation with everyone around us.

Michael rushes in and apologizes for being late, taking his seat next to Hemmings.

"Was she with her?" I hear Luke ask, taking my full attention.

“Yep!” Mike gives a shy smile.

“Who she?” I almost walk through the body of the australian beside me, wanting to get close to Mike.

“Nobody special.” he shrugs.

“Yeah! Go for it.” Hemmo lets go, laughing. Michael slaps him on the head.

“It's nobody special. Just a friend. I swear!" he closes the matter, but he doesn't convince me.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about it." I whisper, complaining to the blonde at my side.

“Sorry, there was no time. Also, I didn't even know it could lead to anything.” he shrugs. I stare Luke, waiting him to continue, but he is easily distracted by the napkin holder. I slap his head like Mike. “Ouch! What was it?” he looks at me shocked.

“Tell me!” Luke turns to face me, rolling his eyes.

“Her name is Sophie. They met at a Fortnite stream. She beat him and he went to congratulate her on the match, so they started talking and apparently it’s hitting something.” Luke shrugs, finishing the story.

“This is so cute. I hope it works!” I see Michael laughing over Luke's shoulder. “Is she pretty?” I question.

“This is a dangerous question.” I look back at him, confused. "Is there a chance you slap me?" I laugh.

"No." I don't get why I would hit him for finding someone pretty.

“She is pretty!" I hit him. “Hey! You said I wouldn't be hitten.” he accuses me.

“Sorry, it's just funny.” I defend myself by laughing. Luke turns forward, annoyed. I wrap my arm around his, which were on the table and come closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Are you going to be mad at me?" I question laughing.

"And I can do it?" he turns to me. His eyes drop to my lips and mine to yours. It would be a perfect time for a kiss, but I don't feel comfortable with all these looks on us.

Hemmo seems to understand my internal battle and just leaves a kiss on my forehead. I open a grateful smile and once again guide my attention to the conversation between Noah and Brian.

After a couple of hours of eating and drinking. We started to spread out through space, forming several conversation circles. I was having a blast with everyone. We sing, dance and record videos that we'll definitely regret later.

After starting to eat, I stopped drinking alcohol, after all, trauma still reigns inside me. So I wouldn't feel like the only sober one at the party, Hemmings decided to join me, stopping drinking too.

Relieved, of course, is the word to describe this night with him. I thought it would be hard to look at it with everything I remembered, but it was so light and fun, I admit I freaked out over nothing. As usual!

All through dinner, I try not to pay too much attention to everyone's eyes on us. We simply could not do anything that someone just needed to die of love. Luke was amused, while I just wanted to sink into the ground.

Yes, I may have had a clue as to how much I feel about Luke, but I still want to take it easy. I want to be sure, and for that, I need to stop being afraid. I know he's been realizing how I've changed and I'm letting him get closer and closer.

Our kisses, touches and smiles. Everything is falling into place and the fact that he doesn't put pressure on me helps me a lot. I already totally trust him, it just makes stronger.

Considering it was easy to stay close to him, without letting the shame take me, I didn't pull him away for a second, because most of the time he pulled me along and I liked that. I like being close to him.

“One round. Just one round.” Jack pleads, hands clasped under his chest.

“No! I've had too much today.” Luke denies it again, making his friend fake a dramatic cry.

"You drank when you arrived. A beer and a shot of gin. That's nothing.”

“I'll drive later and I'm keeping Marnie company.” he squeezes me tighter to his chest.

"Can't you drink?" Jack looks at me confused.

“Of course I can, I just don't want to, you know, make a scene. Or something like that.” I shrug. Jack rolls his eyes, turning back to Luke.

“One round.” he begs, making me laugh.

The boys were preparing a round of Answer or Drink with 10 different types of drink. So, they played and still got drunk.

“No!” Luke responds with a laugh.

For a few seconds, I leave the two of them arguing and go to the table to get my coat. With the lack of alcohol, I start to feel the cold of the air conditioning. On my way to the table, a voice stops me.

“Look what a wonderful surprise.” I turn quickly, feeling all the blood freeze through my body. "What a coincidence, isn't it?" I watch his smirk, knowing what his presence there would do.

“What are you doing here, Stephen?” I take a breath deep, controlling the urge to fly at him. Just like I did with Pam.

It's the first time we've seen each other since the diary report and I couldn't feel more disgust and loathing.

“It's a public place, Lizzie, and don't worry, I didn't come chasing you. I'm with friends.” he points to a table. “I just came to say hello.”

“Don't call me Lizzie, you know I hate it and why don't you take your fake education and stick it in your…”

“What are you doing here?” Luke walks past me, coming face to face with Stephen. "I already told you to stay away from her."

Soon, all the boys approach, ready to intervene. I grab his arm, trying to keep him close to me.

“Let him.” I beg, not wanting it to explode in the middle of the restaurant.

“Calm down, Hemmings.” the name comes out acid and full of poison. “I just came to say hello to Lizzie.” he laughs, hands in his pockets. "Don't worry, I'm not kissing her."

I close my eyes, feeling that hit both of us. That's low, very low. Luke steps forward, taking me with him. Noah and Jack are already starting to put their hands between them. Ash, Mike and Calum begin to put their hands on their friend's shoulders, pulling him along.

“Do not worry. I'm not going to spend my time punching him. But I'll just say one thing, Stephen.” he uses the same acid tone to say his name. "In case you're still dumb enough not to understand. It’s over! What you and Marnie had is over! So stop coming after her, because she doesn't want anything to do with you. She is with me.”

His tone of voice and body postureme impress. I've never seen Luke like this, so nervous, holding back so he doesn't explode, the veins in his neck bulging, proving how much he's controlling himself. I tighten your arm more tightly around my body. I bring my hand down until it's entwined with his, deceptively hoping that it will calm him down and bring him back to me.

“Funny. Cause from what I heard, you guys broke up, didn't you? What? You couldn’t stood the cheat?” he laughs, like he's made a great joke.

I don't know if he intended to hit Luke again, but without realizing it the words hit me. My blood boils and the words written in my diary take shape in my mind. Damn imagination.

I let go of my hand, putting myself in front of Stephen, who takes a step back. His gaze, full of curiosity and mockery, fixes on me.

“That’s enough, Stephen! I don't care about you. Pretend I never called you, just like I was before the accident and disappear from my life. I know you cheated on me and I don't want this torment in my life anymore. Go away.” I let go of everything contained, trying not to fly off his neck.

"Are you really going to believe their bullshit?" Stephen crosses his arms.

“Nobody had to tell me. I remembered." I see his eyes lose their mocking sparkle and he lose confidence. It's a lie, but he don't need to know. “There are at least twenty people here and they all want to hit you, including me, who wouldn't mind breaking my cast on your head. So if you don't want to get out of here on a stretcher, get out!”

I take a step back, feeling my heart pound and trying my best to keep myself from crying. Luke's agitated breath pulses against my spine. I lean against him, feeling his hand intertwine with mine, squeezing it delicately. Amazing how I feel safer, just with that touch.

Stephen passes his eyes around everyone and walks away without saying anything else. When his body pulls away, I release all the air I didn't even know I was holding. The boys start telling us to go back to the table.

I turn, pulling Luke, who is still standing there, facing my ex, who is sitting at the table with a group of friends. He turns around, pulling me easily into his arms. His hands tighten around my waist and I feel him exhale against my neck, giving me goose bumps. I stroke the back of his neck, trying to calm him down and show him that everything is fine.

We walked back to the table, striving for the mood from before. Ashton orders his birthday cake and we ourselves lull into the music, excited, mocking Irwin. While we devoured the cake, no one broaches the subject and I thanks for that. I know Hemmings and I will probably talk about it, but I don't want to involve the guys in this.

Gossip reigns at the table again. The entire group is engaged in conversation about the most disastrous trips ever made, minus the blonde and me. I watch him with his jaw still set and his gaze filled with rage, fixed directly on Stephen, who is across the room, staring at me.

It's a cycle: Luke stares at Stephen, who stares at me, while I stare at Luke.

I feel terrible for making him go through all of this. My amnesia, our breakup, my ex's return. Lucas doesn't deserve any of this. I need to reward him, but how?

“Hey!” I whisper, resting my chin on his bicep, but he doesn't hear me. "I want to leave, will you take me?" I question, hoping to gain any sign of him.

He looks at me nonchalantly, then blinks back to reality. Luke stares at the bleached on the other side, wanting to see if he's still trying something. I drop a small kiss on his shoulder, gaining his attention again.

“Of course! Let's go?” I nod, getting up.

Nobody is opposed to our leaving, I believe as much because of what happened as because it was the two of us. We walked across the room hand in hand, and with me clutching his arm, just to make sure he didn't fly into someone.

But I need to remember that Luke is just as classy as I am. Not just for the fame or the spectacle it would be, but because he was brought up that way. Educated not to go into violence, even if there was someone on the other side who deserved to be slapped.

I'm scared by the frantic flashes that start to pop when they notice the two of us. I cling closer to Luke, who makes room for his car. The delay for the questions to start is just for them to reason that it was the two of us there, together, after announcing our break up.

I keep my head down, focused on his thumb moving up and down, stroking my skin. Luke opens the car door and I settle in, still feeling the flashbulbs burst above us.

With great difficulty, we got out of that sea of ​​people. We remained silent until we reached the intersection of the main lane that led to my house.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks, softly.

I can't identify any feelings in your voice. He is neutral, indifferent. Apart from the isolated fact, this night has been amazing and I don't want it to end, not in this mood.

“No!” I turn in the seat, facing him. "Isn't there anywhere I'd love to go? Or that we both went a lot?” for the first time, I see a glint run through his eyes.

“Yeah! In fact, there are two.” he cracks a smile, causing me to smile too.

Luke takes the other path, heading to some place I couldn't even imagine. The subject comes up between us and so the mood softens. As we talk, I list a number of places I've always liked in Los Angeles, wanting to guess where it would take me.

We turn onto Wilshire Boulevard and I guess where we're going. Hemmo parks his car near the Urban Light and I look forward to getting out of the car.

Before we exit the vehicle, he pulls two caps from the glove compartment, giving me a dark gray one. I look at that accessory, wondering if it was always mine, if we always wore it when we went out.

“Why am I not impressed that this would be the first place?” I question, holding his hand.

By the time, the sculpture was a little empty, with only a few couples taking pictures. Luke and I went unnoticed, walking between those huge poles.

We walked around, with me admiring those lighted poles. I've always liked this sculpture, I've always found it romantic because so many people are proposed here, and I love the lighting.

“Oh no!” I push Luke, finding your phone pointed at me.

"This one got blurry." he laments, pointing again.

“Luke!” I exclaim laughing. I try not to scream so as not to draw attention to both of us.

“Sorry about my behavior at the restaurant.” Hemmings says after a while, surprising me. I lean against a pole, watching him.

“Why are you apologizing?” I frown. Luke leans against the same post, shrugging.

"I didn't mean to spoil your night." he answers.

“You didn't! If there is one responsible, it is him! Stephen knows he shouldn't have shown up there.” I comfort him.

His blue eyes meet mine. I take a step toward him, standing on tiptoe, reaching for his lips, leaving a simple kiss there. Without pulling away completely, I see a goofy smile appear on his face, which also appears on mine.

"What's our second place?" I whisper, next to him.

“My bed.” he lets go.

“Lucas!” I push him away, laughing again. His laugh is contagious. If he knew about the memories…

“Just kidding." Uh-hm… "Ready to get full of sand?" he asks, holding out his hand.

“Always!” I grabbed, leaning my head on his arm as we made our way to the car.

Follow me on Twitter: aquela_wendy

#michael 5sos #5sos imagine #5sosedit #luke 5sos #5sauce #calum 5sos #5sos blurbs #5sos fanfic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #ashton fletcher irwin #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #michael gordon clifford #calum hood #michael clifford #calum thomas hood #luke hemming imagines #luke robert hemmings #luke hemmo #lukey #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings #lrh #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings imagine

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 8 - Winter Comes Again (Part 1)

Full list of translations here

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A team with only ten runners had passed the qualifiers and was now in the Hakone Ekiden.

This spectacular achievement accomplished by the residents of Chikusei-sou was widely talked about, not just by the university athletics world.

Since the Hakone Ekiden began being televised in 1987, there was hardly anyone who didn’t know the name of this event for student runners in the Kanto region. Whether it was due to the grueling nature of the race or the glamour and glitz that aired on New Year’s Day, the Hakone Ekiden never failed to attract attention.

Only ten people were taking on that famous competition. Why would they think of doing such a reckless thing? What would happen if someone got injured or sick on the day of the event? What kind of daily training regimen did they follow, and how did they live?

Curious locals and students who wished to join the team began to visit Chikusei-sou incessantly. Most of the students had no experience in track and field, but when they found out that the team had passed the qualifiers, many of them asked to join the team in a temporary rush of excitement.

Kiyose carefully wrote on a piece of paper that he would turn down all visits and stuck it on the door of Chikusei-sou. He appreciated them wanting to join, but the Kansei University boom would soon die down, they couldn’t enter without an official record, and Chikusei-sou was already full. After much deliberation, Kiyose decided that it would be better for the ten of them to concentrate on training and unite to compete in Hakone rather than take in any new members.

With regards to the locals, the shopkeepers of the shopping district told them to not get in the way of training and most of the locals were now content to just peek at Chikusei-sou from over the hedges. The exceptions were the old people who quietly supplied produce from their fields.

As Kakeru was leaving for his morning jog, he noticed napa cabbages and pears placed outside the door. Is this some kind of repayment? He thought. Nira, who had watched the old people’s actions without barking, only wagged his tail at him. In the end, without knowing who did it, the residents of Chikusei-sou filled their stomachs with the produce that was often left at their door.

Of course, requests for interviews flooded in from the media. Not just track and field magazines, but also weekly magazines, newspapers, and TV; every kind of media outlet they could think of had been trying to contact them. Kiyose and Shindou investigated them all carefully and refused almost all requests with “We want to concentrate on our training.”

However, they agreed to an interview with Monthly Track and Field’s Sanuki and Yomiuri Shimbun’s Nunoda, who had been supporting them since the summer training camp. The two understood the psychology of runners well, so they watched them train without interfering and briefly asked them the most pertinent questions. Favorable articles about the people of Chikusei-sou were then published in the respective mediums.

The twins and King were over the moon and insisted on accepting more interviews.

“We’re actually going to Hakone, you know? It’s better to be noticed,” Jouta said.

“It might even help with getting a job,” King said.

“Instead of thinking about that, you need to get more serious about training. Otherwise, your pathetic running will be televised all over the country, and you’ll get attention whether you like it or not.”

Even when Kiyose flatly rejected them, the twins and King didn’t give up.

“No? We wanna be on TV. TV, TV!” they yelled. Kakeru was astonished as he watched the offense and defense unfolding at the dinner table.

Just the thought of competing in the Hakone Ekiden was enough to make Kakeru nervous and elated. But on top of that, the twins wanted the “extraordinary” experience of being interviewed on TV. Were they too simple-minded, were they greedy, or were they just fearless?

Until that spring, the twins had lived without having any connection to long-distance running, so they might not have had a clear idea of the significance of the Hakone Ekiden.

The Hakone Ekiden, which began in 1920, took place every year with the exception of a few years during the war. Even amidst the food shortage after the war, the runners put on their sashes and aimed for the mountains of Hakone—that's how important it was as an event for runners, with more than eighty years of tradition.

The Hakone Ekiden was what student runners yearned and dreamed of; the twins might not have fully understood the meaning and value of participating in such an event. But even though they didn’t understand, they trained and had the ability to claim their place to take part in it, so they were no ordinary people. Kakeru was impressed and amused by this.

Between them, the twins continued their appeal with Kiyose, who was silently moving his chopsticks.

“Hey, hey, let’s go on TV at least once.”

“We can have that perk, at least. After all, Haiji-san, you’re…”

“What about me?” Kiyose's chopsticks stopped moving. Jouta and Jouji suddenly closed their mouths and squirmed like they wanted to say something, but finally shook their heads.

“Nothing.”

In the end, Kiyose gave in and they ended up accepting a TV interview: on the evening news, in a five-minute topic segment, the lives of the residents of Chikusei-sou were going to be introduced.

TV cameras came and filmed Prince’s room full of manga and Nico-chan’s room full of small quit-smoking dolls that were scattered around his futon that he never put away. They also filmed their training in the field and interviewed the members.

The twins and King took the lead in the interview. We don’t know if things just followed their course or if it was because we were threatened by Haiji-san, but we found ourselves aiming for Hakone. We eat lemons soaked in honey every day to avoid catching colds. We don’t do any special training. We believe we have the same kind of regimen as the track clubs in other universities.

Kakeru, as usual, stood meekly in the corner, just far enough away that he was partially cut off by the cameras.

“Why are you hiding, Kakeru?” Yuki asked.

But Kakeru only smiled vaguely and dodged the question with, “No, I'm not really.” Nico-chan, who was watching over the interview, looked back at him.

“You’re not gonna tell us that you’re a wanted fugitive, are you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

That’d be cool, though, Nico-chan said and gave him a suspicious look.

“Putting that aside, there’s been a strange mood lately, don’t you think?” Yuki said. Nico-chan nodded, I guess so.

Kakeru had also noticed it; it had become somewhat strained within Chikusei-sou. The first-floor residents were the same as before, and most of the people living on the second floor were practicing with the same attitude as usual. The twins, however, seemed to be clearly depressed. To be frank, it was regarding Kiyose.

They didn’t argue with him or act defiant towards him. However, they tried to keep a subtle distance. Although Kiyose treated Jouta and Jouji as he always had, they couldn’t seem to be open with him for some reason. For some reason, their trust in Kiyose seemed to have faded.

This awkwardness spread through Chikusei-sou, and a somewhat uncomfortable atmosphere had persisted ever since the qualifiers ended.

“I wonder what’s going on,” Nico-chan said. “Kakeru, you’re in the same year as them—ask them casually.”

“What do I ask?”

“About what’s in their heart, of course.”

“Aah…yes.”

Although he answered with that, Kakeru honestly felt that it was a heavy burden.

Training was becoming more and more voluminous and dense. They slowly ran the first 5000 meters of the 12,000 meter run in 17 minutes, then increased the pace and ran the last 1000 meters at a pace of 3 minutes and 0.5 seconds. After that, they did five 1000 meter runs of 2 minutes and 55 seconds with a 200-meter interval in between.

Kakeru did his best to think about his own running. Was the swinging of his arms, the angle of his feet when he landed on the ground, the relaxing and tensing of his muscles okay like this? His consciousness stretched around every inch of his cells and he checked his running with every step.

Of course, he had to attend his university classes in between training sessions, but it was hard to have to pay attention to other people as well.

One time, he happened to be in the Tsuru no yu public baths with the twins. When the twins went to the washing area, Kakeru and Kiyose soaked in the bathtub with their backs to the painting of Mount Fuji, and conversed with the plasterer who happened to be there.

“How’s it going, Haiji? How are the Chikusei-sou guys?” the plasterer asked. He was sitting in the hot water with his back to the washing area, so he didn’t notice the twins. The twins, who would usually call out to them, saw Kiyose by the bathtub’s faucet and only slightly bowed without a word.

“They’re doing good,” Kiyose answered the plasterer.

“The first-years did pretty good.” The plasterer pulled his hands out of the water and rubbed his face. “Kakeru did great too, but look at those identical twins—they’re pretty fast too, aren’t they?”

Kakeru fretted over how Kiyose would answer. Behind the plasterer, Jouta and Jouji were straining their ears to listen. Perhaps because he was distracted by the conversation, Jouji lost control of his hands and spilled a large amount of shampoo on his head.

“They really are,” Kiyose smiled. “I can’t say it in front of the people themselves, but they run well.”

“Really?” Jouta stood up from his chair in the washing area, and the plasterer looked behind him with a start.

“What’s the point in lying?” Kiyose rose from the bathtub. “Sir, we’re raising promising runners, so please continue to support us from the shopping district. I will be taking my leave now.”

He walked past the twins’ backs, opened the sliding door of the baths and disappeared into the changing room.

“He only praised us ‘cause we were here,” Jouji muttered to no one in particular. But he couldn’t hide the fact that he was happy. He shampooed his head so vigorously that it was covered in dense bubbles in the blink of an eye.

“What’s with you guys? You didn’t even say hello.”

After the plasterer compared Kiyose’s and the twins’ words and actions, he turned to Kakeru, who was still in the bath. “Are they fighting by any chance?”

He was asked that in a whisper. “Well,” Kakeru sank up to his shoulders in the water. “I don’t think that’s the case.”

The twins might have been dissatisfied with Kiyose in some way, however they couldn’t hide it within themselves forever. If anything, he would say that it was because they had openhearted and naïve personalities; he was sure that they would let their emotions erupt at the earliest opportunity and directly vent them to Kiyose. It wasn’t too late to try and solve the problem.

Kakeru decided to leave the twins alone. He shouldn’t intentionally nudge a dormant volcano; when an eruption occurred, they would naturally discover where the crater is. After carefully assessing the location and wind direction, they could take shelter and wait for the overflowing lava to cool. That was what he thought.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

[ladylooch]

I love a good but if angst. Maybe something about lexi or Emma being out with the guys either at an event or after a game and a fan crosses a line. I love protective men 🫣

“Do you mind if I stop? I haven’t for the last few weeks.” Nico asks me after a home win against the Dallas Stars. He motions to the long line of fans waiting for an interaction with the players heading home for the night. Timo and Emma are in front of us, but keep driving because Lio was having a bad night at the game.

“Go ahead. Luc is asleep.” I say with a smile. 

“Thank you. Just like ten minutes.” 

“Okay.” I lean over the center console, giving him a kiss. He opens his door and people begin to yell out for his attention. I watch for a moment as he starts to sign autographs and pose for pictures. Then I pull my phone out, scrolling through Instagram.

I glance over to my left after a few moments, seeing a teenager snapping pictures of me inside the car. I don’t love that. I also don’t have much of a choice but to sit here. What’s she going to do with the picture anyway? I keep scrolling until I notice the the direction of her camera is pointed in the back seat where Lucie is sleeping. Now that I am not okay with.

“Hi, Can you please not take pictures of my daughter?” I lean over the console to say out the window. She completely ignores me and continues to take pictures. “Hey. Seriously, please stop.” Nico looks back at me after signing a jersey, then follows my gaze to the girl. “Nico.” I call to him.

“Hi, please stop.” He says, handing the jersey back and walking down to the girl. The security guard catches on, coming down to stand next to them. “Can you delete those?”

“I didn’t take any.” She insists back to Nico.

“Yes, you did. I saw your flash.” I call out.

“We take our daughters privacy very seriously. Please help us keep her safe and delete those.” Nico tries to reason politely.

“We are out in public. I can take pictures of whatever I want and post them.”

“Not of minor children.” I call. 

“Shut up, bitch.” She says. I unclip my seatbelt, ready to get out of the car.

“Lexi. Stay put.” Nico insists.

“That was completely uncalled for. You’re being threatening and confrontational towards my wife and child. This is not okay. Can you remove her?” He asks the security guard. The other fans start yelling back at her nasty things. A manager for the security company comes to apologize to Nico. “I don’t ever want to see her waiting here again. Please get those pictures off her phone of my daughter.” 

“We will take care of it.”

“Thank you.” Nico turns to the fans who are disappointed to see him heading back to his car. “Sorry all. Thank you for coming out tonight.” Nico gets in the car, lacing our fingers together. He brings my face over to his for a calming kiss. His cheeks are flushed, anger widens his pupils and nostrils. 

“I’m so sorry. We are never stopping with Luc again.” 

#what my world spins around au

[thiswasinevitableid]

Can you do 60 for indruck, NSFW? Thank you so much! Love your work!

Here it is! I set it in the same world as this sternclay fill. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord. Apollo is from my Super hero AU

“All I’m sayin is it seems mighty unfair to me that one fella gets a handler-assistant type deal and the rest of us don’t.” Duck crosses his arms as Ned fiddles with the pen on his desk.

“You’re not wrong, dear boy, but Apollo was in high demand from the higher ups-”

“Because he’s a shallow dipshit with a mean streak who’ll be good for ratings?”

“Precisely. He demanded in his contract that we allow his twin to continue his work as his photographer and assistant. He has over a million followers on Instagram, so those photos will be a boost to the show. Just try to get along for the camera’s?”

“His brother ain’t even on camera.” Duck mutters.

“I meant with Apollo.”

Duck shrugs, defeated, “sure thing, Ned.”

As he walks back to the main house, he mulls over the fact that the twin (Indrid, he thinks that’s the guys name) bugs him more than Apollo does. Apollo is vain, mean, and selfish, but at least that gets him things, even makes sense for the kind of show they’re on. Indrid gains nothing by helping him out here. Except protection from the bully, which Duck finds to be the worst kind of cowardice. Hopefully Vincent, this season’s bachelor, will see through the “influencer” and send him packing ASAP.

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

Four weeks in, and this is exactly what Duck was worried about. Not only is Indrid hovering around his brother like a nervous moth (excet when cameras are near, at which point he ducks out of frame), he’s doing fucking nothing to reign him in.

A few frontrunners are starting to emerge, and with that claws are coming out. Barclay, a chef and all around nice guy, is the target of choice. Nico and Josh both took bites out of him this morning. But Apollo sunk his teeth in like a dog on a fox, calling him, among other things, a pathetic, six-foot puppy dog who no man would ever want. The cook left noticeably teary eyed. Duck was about to block the cameras from following when Joseph beat him to it. Which is weird, because he thought Joe couldn’t stand Barclay. Apollo flounces off, but Duck corners Indrid where he’s been stoically watching his brother be a raging asshole.

“What the fuck man?”

‘Wrong twin.” Indrid says flatly, indicating his silver hair, tied back in a half-bun. His dark roots are showing and his eyebrows are black, unlike Apollo’s immaculate blonde dye job and bleached brows.

“Nope, right one. You’re his handler, cant’ you fuckin intervene when he’s doin’ shit like that? Or are you just here to let him hurt whoever he feels like?”

Indrid fixes him with a bitter smile, “If there were a way to make my brother be kind or, indeed, see others as people, don’t you think I’d have found it and used it everyday since?”

“I-”

“You people have no idea how much I’m already doing. I kept him from going after you yesterday by reminding him he looks ugly when he yells on camera. And if nothing else console yourself with the fact you all have only to deal with him for a few months. Some of us have endured twenty-eight years of it.”

With that, he turns and stalks from the room. As he leaves, Duck can’t shake the thought that his black denim jacket and worn jeans fit him better than Apollo’s designer ones ever could.

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

Indrid understands why there’s so much alcohol on set, but he can’t partake (too bitter) and it makes Apollo even harder to handle than usual. Which is why Indrid is out on the grounds at ten p.m, intending to hide from his brother until dawn.

At six weeks in, fan favorites are getting more established and Indrid, needing to predict Apollo’s mood in order to do his job, is keeping a close eye on them. His twin is well-liked for being snarky and hot, though he suspects the large number of contestants means there have been limited chances for his unpleasant side to be showcased. Joseph is another, because of course he is, movie-star handsome with an interesting past. Barclay is beloved for the very things that the other contestants torment him for. And Duck? Duck is quickly becoming the one people think Vincent will choose.

Indrid thinks they’re right. He’s charming in an understated way, funny, and while Apollo needles him for his “dad bod,” Indrid and Vincent have both noticed the muscles in his arms. Who gives a damn about flat abs? Indrid would much rather have something soft to rest his head on while those green eyes look lovingly down at him. His crush on Duck is useless, persistent, and must be hidden from Apollo at all costs.

His foot catches something solid and he tumbles over the obstacle to land ass-first on the lawn.

“Ow.” He glares at the object. The object turns out to be Duck Newton, who's obviously drunk as he sits up.

“Sorry man, thought no one’d come out here. Oh it’s you, it's, uh, fuck, fuck c'mon” he snaps his fingers as he searches his thoughts, “It's cute Apollo!”

“Indrid.” Surely Duck didn’t mean to use that adjective. Right?

“No, I’m Duck?”

He snickers, “No, I meant I’m Indrid.”

“Ohhh, right. You're Indrid. I'm Duck. That's the big dipper” He points at the sky. Indrid follows the line and grins, delighted.”

“It is!”

“Uhhuh. C'mere, can show you more.” Duck pats the spot beside him and lays back. Indrid scoots closer and reclines as well, making appreciative sounds each time Duck shows him a constellation.

As they’re studying the sky, the other man whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? I, I think Joe’n Barclay are into each other now."

“The way they look at each other is not exactly subtle.”

‘“Heh, yeah.” he links his hands across his belly, “I think they're in love. You ever been in love?”

“No.” He sighs, not wanting to dwell on that pile of baggage, “You?”

“Nope. And, uh, don’t, don’t tell anyone but I don't think I am with Vincent. Maybe I could be? Does that make me a bad person? He's nice, think he likes me a lot but, I, I dunno.”

“Not being in love with someone doesn’t make you a bad person. No more than loving someone does.”

Indrid is hard to surprise; years of getting out ahead of his brother and father taught him how to see things coming. But nothing could prepare him for Duck rolling to hide his face against Indrid’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he pats his back, notices a woodsy scent tingling his nose.

“You smell good.” He winces; that was too creepy, now Duck will pull the comforting bulk of his body away.

“Thanks. I bought a bunch of cologne when I realized I was actually going to be a contestant. News clothes too. Thought it would give me an edge but...I dunno, can't compete with a guy like your brother.”

“Join the club.” Indrid reaches up to toy with a lock of Duck’s black hair, expecting Duck to bat him away. Instead, he sighs and turns his head to give Indrid better access.

“You could compete with ‘im. You're cuter. Nicer too.”

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Duck’s fidgets with the mothman pin on Indrid’s jacket, “You wanna cuddle?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No one cuddles with me. And we ain’t allowed to cuddle Vincent yet.” He looks up, lips pouting just enough to be charming.

Indrid let’s a purr enter his voice, “That’s a shame. I’m happy to cuddle.”

Duck rolls more of his body onto Indrid, resolutely nestling his head under his chin and tangling their legs together. His hands stay on Indrid’s chest and shoulders, though he’s now drunkenly petting Indrid’s collarbone, making him shiver. He expends four months worth of daring in a second, wrapping his arms around the curves of Duck’s torso. When Duck’s fingers brush skin instead of shirt, Indrid whimpers, then bites his lip and prays it went unnoticed.

“You don’t get cuddled much either, do you?” Duck murmurs thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Damn shame, you’re real good at it. Can cuddle me any time.”

Indrid “mmhmms” knowing the promise is like the stars; bright and comforting in the darkness, but ultimately beyond his reach.

Three day later, he drops his guard; Apollo’s been on his good behavior since Vincent’s been spending more time with him. You’d think Indrid would learn by now that all his venom has to go somewhere.

He’s huddled down in the rec room trying not to cry; it’s pathetic enough that he let such childish insults get to him, but to cry over them would confirm everything his brother said.

“Indrid? You, uh, you okay?” Duck’s reflection in the darkened T.V approaches his own.

“I'm fine.” It’s the same inflection he’s used hundreds of times, but Duck sits down on the couch all the same.

“Do you, uh, need a hug?’

“No.” He replies a hair too quickly.

“Do you want one?”

“......Badly.”

Duck opens his arms and Indrid shifts on the cushions, doing his best to curl his long limbs so they’ll fit in his embrace. The shorter man notices, concern flashing on his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay. You, uh, wanna hear the most exciting news of the day?” He waits for Indrid to nod, “there was a cougar sightin’ in the foothills near here!”

“That is both very exciting and alarming.”

“Doubt it’d go after folks, they try to steer clear of people. We don’t have ‘em back home, but you learn what to do when you’re also learnin how to deal with bears.”

“How does one deal with a bear? Other than buying them a drink.”

Duck snorts, relaxes further into the couch, “Depends on how soon you see ‘em…”

They emerge two hours later, and Indrid is so engrossed in their conversation about hiking incidents that he runs smack into a camera man. While he’s apologizing profusely, Duck guffaws, steadies him, and leads him off in search of somewhere to watch the sunset.

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

“Oooh, ooh, look, sea lions!” Indrid points to the distant wharf.

“Good eye. Man, those fuckers are big. Glad none of ‘em were in the water when we did that fuckin cliff dive.”

“I for one would pay good money to see my brother chased by a sea lion.”

Duck chuckles, pops the tab on his WhiteClaw. They’re having dinner on the beach, a gourmet spread meant to encourage them to show off their pallets. Indrid took Barclay’s recommendation and ordered the whole, grilled snapper, which he assumed he’d be eating alone; Vincent’s attention has been on Duck ever since he went swimming this morning. Duck seems to be enjoying it, but come dinner time he demurred (“gotta let some of the other fellas have a chance”) and brought his basket of fried oysters over to join Indrid on the sand.

“Speakin of your brother, kinda surprised he didn't make any digs at this whole, uh, situation.” Duck gestures to the torso Indrid is currently aching to lick droplets of saltwater from. To subdue the craving, he licks salt from his fingers before replying.

“I, ah, the last time he tried to, I reminded him of all the pictures I have of him eating. He hates to be seen eating. Most of the time.” He tilts his head towards his twin, who’s chowing down next to Vincent without a care for the cameras. Indrid sets his hand on the warm sand, “I’ve been trying to, well, reign him in as you suggested. Or at least make him think twice about his choices.”

(Indrid omits the part where he’s most likely to risk it if Duck is the one with the target on his back).

Duck sets his hand down beside Indrid’s, brushes sand from the side of it with a calloused thumb, “Mighty good of you. But, uh, think I mighta read things wrong that day. You gotta handle him how you think best. Just, uh, just promise me you won’t sacrifice your own well-bein’ for my sake, or anyone else’s. We’re all grown-ass men; we can handle it.”

“I promise.” He lies.

The other man leans back on his hands, green eyes drifting across the waves. Indrid would gladly sit in silence the rest of the night, it’s so easy to be comfortable in the lull when it’s Duck filling the space beside him.

Eventually, the ranger murmurs, “It’s so fuckin breathtaking. The ocean, I mean. Maybe if you live on a coast you get used to it but man, it is somethin;.”

“More so than the forest?”

Duck smiles, “It’s like apples and oranges. Monongahela got its own charms; you’d have a blast takin pictures and drawin there, believe me. If, uh, if Apollo and I both make it to the final four, uh, maybe we could take a few hours durin’ my hometown visit and I could show you my favorite spot.

Indrid imagines the two of them beneath the trees, walking hand in hand.

“I’d like that.”

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

“You know you’re just a distraction, right?”

Indrid doesn’t look at his brother, just flips the page in his book, “I doubt that. You’ve said, often, that I’m too off-putting to be interesting.”

“Not when there’s competition for someone superior; Duck knows he might not win. You’re his back-up if he doesn’t, and a way to kill time until the end. Once Vincent sends him home, which he most definitely will, he’ll keep you around until something better comes along.”

“Don’t act like you know him.” Indrid hisses, looking up just in time to see something scurrying behind the triumph on Apollo’s face: fear.

So, his brother has a new weakness. He’ll tuck that away for later; this is shaping up to be an unpleasant conversation, but not one requiring quite that degree of weapon.

“You should thank me. If I weren’t so captivating, Vincent would spend all his time with Duck. Then you’d be without any attention at all. Even Duck’s taste isn’t that abysmal.” He grins his several thousand dollar smile, “he and Vincent are probably laughing about it right now.”

Indrid stands, crosses the tiny room, “Shut up, Apollo.”

Then he slams the door. There’s a yelp, followed by “you hit my nose, you pathetic excuse for a man, ow, open this door this instant I’m not done with you!”

He flicks the lock and sits back on the bed. There’s a tin of sensory putty on his nightstand and he opens it, playing with it between his fingers. Duck brought it for him after a museum date with Vincent. The image of him not only thinking of Indrid when he saw something, but then buying it for him just to see him smile makes him want to grin and hide his face in a pillow like a teenager who just got asked to prom.

But maybe this date is going differently.

Indrid squeezes the putty, repeats the mantra he’s had since he was a child, “Apollo always lies. Apollo always lies.”

Eventually, he’s calm enough to work on some tattoo commissions, is coloring away when there’s a knock on the door. A secret knock Duck invented as a goof. Throwing open the door reveals the shorter man wearing a suit jacket and an exhausted expression. Indrid gestures to the bed, shuts and locks the door as Duck slumps on the mattress and sets his head in his hands.

“Whelp, that was a shit-show.”

“What happened?” Indrid sits cross-legged beside him.

“Vincent went in for a kiss and I, uh, I turned him down. I mean, he took it well because he’s a sweet guy but I, I feel like shit.”

“There’s no shame in not wanting to kiss just yet.”

“That ain’t the problem. I, I wanna kiss someone on this set, but it ain’t him. Indrid” he looks up, green eyes watery, “Indrid, I think I’m fallin in love with you.”

“Oh. I, are you sure-”

“The whole night, and I mean the whole fuckin night, I was thinkin about you. Thought how nice the trip to the botanical gardens would be with you there to point out color combos and get excited about butterflies. Wanted to hold your hand over dinner. Fuck, when they brought out the dessert menu all I could think was how fun it’d be to order one of each thing to surprise you so you’d do that thing you do with your hands when you’re real excited.” Duck turns, sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders, “‘Drid, if you don’t want this, I’ll back off but-”

Indrid cuts him off with a kiss, let’s strong arms pull him down to the bed and presses as close to Duck as he can, as if any space between them might be a way for the universe to push them apart.

“Than fuck” Duck pants, cupping his face, “wait, fuck, what do we do now? I can’t string poor Vincent on.”

“We’ll get them to let you out of your contract. It can’t be that hard, right?”

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

“Absolutely not” Ned shakes his head, “dropping out of the show is out of the question.”

“But that ain’t fair to any of us. Can we at least tell Vincent the truth?”

“No, it needs to look as if he naturally decided not to choose you. If not, we could be accused of manipulating results; the last time that happened, the ratings tanked for that season and the next. And my predecessor was fired.”

Duck looks at Indrid, “Guess I’ll just...pull back? That way Vincent won’t have a reason to choose me and’ll let me go soon.”

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

“Droppin out is outta the question, huh?” Duck mutters to Indrid as they watch Barclay and Joseph walk off holding hands, the host eagerly asking them questions as they go.

“I suppose he didn’t drop so much as sprint.” Indrid glances at the rose in Duck’s hand, “congratulations on making the final...well, final three now.”

“Thanks? Guess Apollo’s pretty happy about it too.”

“Yes, but his ego needs no stroking.” Indrid smiles, “maybe this means you’ll get to show me the woods?”

“I hope so. Huh. What are they gonna do with the rest of us when it’s not our turn for the hometown visit?”

The answer turns out to be: drag everyone to each hometown. Because they no longer have Joe’s trip to do, Ned decided they needed more scenes of the contestants exploring where their competitors came from.

Kepler is first, and tonight is the night Duck’s been dreading. His romantic, home-town date that everyone expects to end with at least some kissing. He manages to make it through dinner, even enjoys showing Vincent the down-town he spent years roaming. But as they start down the river walk for a romantic stroll, his heart is trying to smash its way out of his ribs.

“It’s alright, you know.” Vincent stops, guiding Duck to face him, “the fact you want to be with Indrid.”

“I, uh, fuck, I, I don’t not know, uh, fuck-” he closes his eyes, “how’d you know?”

“I’m more observant than I get credit for.” Vincent brushes his cheek, “I’ve had a hunch for weeks now, but I kept you around because I liked having you here, even if I suspected it wasn’t going to end with us together. I’m very fond of you, Duck. You deserve someone who makes you happy. I promise I’ll send you home this next rose ceremony”

“Christ” Duck chuckles, “you’re a hell of a guy too, Vince. I hope whoever you pick treats you right. I, uh, can I, should we…?”

Vincent plants a chaste kiss on his cheek, then smiles, “go get him.”

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

“Any twos?”

“No. Go fish.”

Apollo grumbles as he takes another card. Given Duck and Vincent are on their date, neither he nor Indrid is having a good night. Before Indrid can make his ask, his twin says, “How do you get people to like you?”

“Why do you care? You’ve made it this far, so obviously Vincent likes you a great deal”

“I don’t just mean him. I, I mean, I want him to like me. To want me. But I suspect he’d like me better if other people did.”

Indrid idly taps his cards, “I suggest you stop acting like our father.”

“I’m nothing like him!” Apollo squawks.

“Oh, but you are. Everything he taught us you still hold as true; you’re just the newest version of men like him. Self-absorbed. Cruel. Shallow. I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far with Vincent, given that the age difference means you’d be caring for him in his old age.”

“I, I can care for him. I will!”

“Apollo, I wouldn’t trust you to care for a potted plant.” He sets his cards down.

“At least I’m not a-”

“Ambitionless deviant who has to ride his brother’s coattails to survive?”

“Wha--how-”

“Like I said; you’re just like him. Down to your insults.” Indrid stands, “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

His brother remains speechless--a rare state for him--as he closes the door and heads for his room. He doubts Duck will do anything on the date (hell, the two of them have only been able to steal some kisses now and then), but the whole charade has him feeling low.

There are far more cameras in the rented house than there were a few hours ago. Which means the rest of the crew is back. Does that also mean…

“Hey, sugar. I was just lookin for you.”

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

Duck’s glad his door is open, because otherwise Indrid would have smashed it to pieces dragging them both through it. He’d only gotten out the barest explanation before the taller man was kissing his face and tugging at his clothes, purring “mine” over and over again.

“Yep, all yours.” He shuts the door as Indrid mouths at his neck, “which also means you’re all mine.” He yanks Indrid’s black sweater up and over his head, sends the matching t-shirt after it a moment later. Indrid whines, fumbling with Duck’s dress shirt, and he gets an idea.

“Uh uh, only good boys who show me why they deserve it get to feel me up.”

Indrid groans into his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his jacket “What constitutes good behavior in this instance?”

“One sec, don’t go nowhere.” He starts to step past him, pauses to grips his chin and pull him into another kiss, “and no peekin.”

As he digs through his bag for the strap on he brought just in case, he keeps an eye on Indrid to be sure he’s following the directions. The taller man’s fingers twitch, but his head stays still. God, Duck is going to memorize the shape of each of the tattoos decorating his skin with his mouth.

“You did real good.” He slips around Indrid once more, resting his back on the wall. Indrid notices the new bulge in his pants and thuds to his knees.

“May I?”

“You better.”

Indrid undoes the button of his fly. Then he looks at Duck over the rim of his glasses as he takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down. When the black silicone of the strap breaks free, Indrid cocks his head as if unsure of his options. Duck doesn’t really have a plan--he just wants to be with him, to make him feel good and show him just what weeks of pent-up desire have done to him--but he’s starting to regret that choice.

Indrid flicks hair from his face and wraps his lips around the head of the cock experimentally. He hums, sucking on it a moment, then pulls back blushing, “This is going to sound strange but, ah, I, I really like that. It’s such a lovely texture on my tongue, it’s, it’s almost soothing to suck.”

“Guess you better keep suckin it then, huh?” Duck runs the fingers of his right hand through Indrid’s hair.

“Is that really alright? It can’t feel like much on your end.”

“Don’t mean it ain’t fun to watch. But, uh” he touches the edge of Indrid’s red glasses, “it okay if I take these off?”

Indrid nods and Duck slides them free, tucks them into his breast pocket for safekeeping as Indrid draws the cock into his mouth again. He focuses on the head at first, humming and moaning as it bumps his cheek. Then Duck sees him swallow and relax the muscles of his jaw as he presses closer. Little puffs of breath tickle Duck’s skin as Indrid gets most of the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing and head bobbing as he sucks. Hungry noises burlbe up his throat, and the more he lets himself go the messier he becomes, spit coating his lips and eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

“Okay, I lied.”

Brown eyes shoot him a disbelieving look.

“This ain’t fun. This is one of the hottest fuckin things I’ve ever seen.”

Indrid wiggles happily on his knees, left hand dropping to rubs his own cock through his jeans.

“Needy little thing, gotta have somethin down your throat and around your dick at the same time.”

“MMMhhmmm” Indrid purrs, the picture of filthy perfection.

“If, if you swallow the whole thing, I’ll let you finger-fuck me.”

Both hands fly to his thighs with an excited moan. Indrid’s brow crinkles with determination as he slowly, carefully brings his lips to the base of the toy. Duck groans out “good boy” and shoves his pants down, Indrid helping to drag them to his ankles. Indrid keeps his left hand on Duck’s hip while the right hovers below his folds. Duck takes it, the toy making the angle a bit awkward, and guides it against him.

“Start with one.”

Indrid nods, moans reverently as he obeys. Duck curses, looks down to find Indrid watching him attentively. Duck is going to wreck him. Then he’s going to cuddle him to sleep and wonder at the fact he got this lucky.

“You’re doin’ great, sugar. Promise I’ll tell you if you need to adjustOH, ohyeah” he lets his head rest against the chipped white of the door, “that’s the spot. Fuck it, add one more, Ahfuck, yeah, those artists fingers are fuckin perfect for this.”

Another purr and then a sharp, choked noise. Duck looks down, realizing he rolled his hips without meaning to. Before he can apologize, Indrid grips his thigh and shakes his head.

“You like that?”

“Mmhhmmm” Indrid traces a heart on his belly.

“You’ll pull off you need to?”

“Mhmmmm.” Indrid curls his fingers as his stretched lips manage to grin.

“Fuck!” Duck giggles, “okay, if my darlin wants his face fucked, that’s what he’ll get.” He keeps a hand on Indrid’s shoulder as he lets loose, grunts and curses mingling with the increasingly wet moans of his cock claiming Indrid’s throat. Soon he’s out of words, too busy with the sight of himself forcing Indrid’s lips apart as he tightens around his fingers. Handjobs are a toss-up for him most days; sometimes they work, other times he can’t cum from them at all. It turns out what makes it very easy to do so is-

“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, sugar, yeah, right there, rightthererightthere ohfuckyeah.” He cums, jerking his hips hard enough to punch a new, high sound from Indrid’s throat. The other man pulls off, rests his cheek on Duck’s belly with shuddery, satisfied sighs.

“Y’know” Duck unbuttons his shirt from the bottom up so Indrid can more easily nuzzle the skin there, “I had this whole plan where I was gonna fuck you with this and then ride your face to cum.”

“I’m not opposed.” Indrid grins, bouncing a bit.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got one in me tonight. So” He tosses the shirt away, pulls off the harness as Indrid nibbles his hips, “if you wanna cum, you’re gonna have to do all the work.”

An edge enters his smile, “I can manage that.”

Duck hits the floor with a whump, Indrid trapping him on his back and climbing atop him, all the while kissing him with abandon.

“May I fuck you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Condom?”

“Dop kit, bathroom, aw come back.”

“Patience, sweetheart” Indrid blows him a kiss, returns a few moments later doing an inelegant dance to kick his jeans and boxers away, “got one!”

“Good, now get back down here before I-AHfuck!” Indrid is on him and in him so fast it knocks his breath away.

“Before what? You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, alllllll mine.” He drags kisses across Duck’s cheek, then bites his chapped lip as he looks down at him, “right?”

“You know it, nnng, fuck, that’s it sugar, be a good boy and cum for me. Fuck, darlin, wanted this so bad.” He locks his fingers into silver hair to keep Indrid in kissing distance as the other man whimpers, thrusts shallow and rabbity.

“Want you too, so much, I’ll be worth it, I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll make you so happy.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “You already do.”

There’s a high, gasping moan, almost like a chirp, and Indrid rides out his orgasm in drawn-out rolls of his hips. Then he collapses, laughing, on Duck’s chest.

“I, I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d get this. Someone wanting me. Choosing me.”

“I mean, I went on a T.V show to find love, so I know a little somethin about that fear. But I also know findin you is better than anythin I ever imagined.”

“Likewise.” Indrid nestles closer, one hand reaching out to hold Duck’s where it’s flopped on the rug.

“...You realize this means there’s a fifty-fifty chance your brother will win.”

Indrid shrugs, lifts his head to smile at Duck, “I leave that to Vincent. I already got my prize.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #bachelor au #meet ugly

[tessathaitea]

To Think it Started With COVID-19

"Mr. Jackson, I need you to please introduce yourself to the rest of the class," his teacher Mr. Green asked through the computer. He sighed.

He and Annabeth had broken up, not on exactly mutual terms (by now he had moved on and they were both still very close friends). He held no grudge against her, for it was part of figuring out who she was, nor against the certain daughter of Aphrodite she had been crushing on.

Percy proceeded to type in the chat that he could not unmute, unless the class wanted to hear a bunch of pandemonium.

"Mr. Jackson, I assume you don't want to be failing class on the first day, am I correct?" Mr. Green asked (his name should have been Mr. Blue. That would be much better). Percy sighed, and hit the unmute button.

"Um, alright. Hello, I'm Percy Jackson and-" he started before being interrupted.

"GET OVER HERE YOU LITTLE PUNKS! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" a voice Percy later recognised as Clarisse shouted. A bomb-like noise then went off.

"Sorry about that. Okay, so-" another voice then shouted out, interrupting him for the second time in thirty seconds.

"Shut up you load of Minotaur dung!" it said. Another boom sounded. The Stolls must have been pulling another prank and went too far.

"Right, Mr. Jackson, you may refrain from introducing yourself. Now, please mute yourself. All that noise is going to end up giving me a headache," he said. Percy quickly muted himself, and then sighed with relief. At least he didn't ask where Percy was. It would be hard to explain as to why Percy was at a summer camp during the school year. He zoned out the rest of the lecture, making it when Jason snuck up behind him an even bigger scare.

"Hey," Jason said. Percy jumped in surprise, and he couldn't help noticing Jason's bright blue eyes staring right at him, and cursed himself for thinking. Turning his camera off, he turned towards Jason.

"Something you need? I think you know I'm in class right now," he smirked. Jason laughed. He gave Percy a sad smile.

"There's been a new quest issued for you, Nico, Thalia, and me," he said sadly, his smile gone. Percy's heart sunk.

"Right. I'll be there in a minute," Percy said. He told his teacher that there was a family emergency.

"I can wait," Jason said, sitting down on a bed. Percy smiled.

"Ha, no. You need to get your stuff ready. Now, shoo," he said. Jason rolled his eyes, but left the cabin.

After getting his work in advance for the next seven weeks from his teacher, he packed a bag of nectar and ambrosia. There was a soft knock on the door, and Annabeth came in.

"Hey Wise Girl. You get your crush yet?" he asked teasingly. Annabeth turned red, and glared at him.

"Shut up. You getting excited to be going on a quest with a certain blond haired blue-eyed Son of Jupiter?" she said. Percy turned around and pretended to continue packing, so the girl wouldn't see the light blush along his thoroughly tanned cheeks.

"I don't know what you mean Wise Girl," he said, fighting down the blush.

"Of course you do! You're always glancing over at him, and you sometimes even blush around him," she said, rolling her eyes and giggling uncharacteristically. He glared at her, forgetting about the blush on his cheeks. Annabeth's smile widened. As Percy walked out of his cabin, he told her something he would never regret.

"If you don't admit your feelings for Piper by the time I get back, you owe me twenty golden drachma," he called, and then bumped into the same daughter of Aphrodite he was talking about on the way out.

"Wait, what?" Piper asked. Percy winked at both of them.

"Don't start doing the deed in my cabin now, as I don't need more of a mess," he said teasingly. Leaving both girls a blushing mesh, he skipped out the door.

Once he arrived at the Big House, he was met with Thalia interrogating a flustered Jason, which Percy thought was sort of cute.

"You know that he's head-over-heels for you, right? I still don't get why you picked that-" Thalia continued ranting at Jason, until she noticed Percy was there. After Thalia saw him, she started to immediately change the subject.

"Are we all ready to go?" Nico grumbled. Percy suspected he had been pulled out of the infirmary after another round of 'doctors orders' stays. Percy bet that a certain Will Solace was just making excuses to fuss over Nico and spend time with him.

After everyone at least mumbled at yes, they all took hands. Percy later could have sworn Thalia nudged Jason closer to him. He realized with a jolt that Jason was actually holding his hand, and then cursed himself for thinking like a lovesick middle school student. He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sudden darkness of shadow-travel, and the burst of cold air that came after it.

There was a yell, and all of a sudden Nico and Thalia fell over the skyscraper that they had landed on.

"Thalia, concentrate on the winds and not anything else. If all else fails, Nico see if you can shadow-travel back to camp!" Jason yelled. Thalia concentrated, but only managed to stir up a miniature thunderstorm. Nico sighed, and touched Thalia's shoulder, trying to touch her as little as possible as they shadow-traveled out.

Percy sighed with relief, but then realized the situation they were in. They were on top of some sort of skyscraper with two antennae, and one was lit up red and the other lit up green. The city had an amazing skyline, but didn't look like anywhere in New York.

"Any clue to where we are?" Percy asked.

"Nico said we were going to start out in Chicago, but didn't say where. I'm guessing we're on the Sirius tower/ Willis tower," Jason answered. Jason had his legs dangling off the roof, and was staring at the skyline. Percy sat down next to him.

"You know, you guys never actually told me what we were doing on this quest," Percy said.

"We were waiting for you to ask," Jason said. Was it Percy's imagination, or did Jason move closer to him?

"Yeah, well I'm asking now,"

"It was for me to do something," Jason said. Percy had the urge to roll his eyes.

"Do what?" Percy asked. Jason turned towards Percy, his blue eyes sparkling.

"This,"

Jason grabbed Percy's jaw and smashed his lips onto Percy's own. Suddenly, the night's colors became sharper, and Percy's senses cheered. When they finally pulled away, both boys were blushing.

"You wouldn't believe how long I wanted to do that," Jason said, his fingers tracing one of the scars on Percy's face.

"Yeah? How long?" Percy asked.

"Since the day I met you," he said.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Are you sure you don't want me to sleep on the couch?" Jason asked. They were staying at a hotel room, and there had been a mix up in the room so that there was only one bed.

"Jason fucking Grace, I said it's fine. Now go to bed," Percy mumbled from his spot in the bed. He heard Jason sigh, and felt him lay down in the bed. Percy moved so that he was in Jason's arms, and sighed contently. He heard the equivalent from Jason a couple minutes later. For once, Percy didn't have to worry about anything from the mythological world.

TIMESKIPTOAFTERWHENEVERTHEIRSPRINGBREAKENDS:

"Mr. Jackson, could you please state the answer to this question?" his teacher asked. Percy sighed. He would have to spend the rest of the day correcting his other teachers.

"Fine. Also, it's Grace-Jackson now."

“COME BACK HERE! YOU DIDN’T TAKE A COVID-19 TEST!”  shouted someone in the background. Probably Will hounding Nico because he shadow-traveled to Europe on accident again. 

Oh, well. Camp Half-Blood was his family after all, and a great one at that.

#jercy #one-shot