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vivwritesfics · 6 months

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Horse Girl - LN4

High school sweethearts Lando and Y/N are very in love (she also happens to be Flo's best friend and they met through their yards) (any words you don't understand are probably just unimportant horsey terms dw about it) (also idk anything about flo's riding journey, so i made it mirror mine)

Lando Norris x reader

2.3K

"Flo," Y/N called as she appeared at the stable door. She had Gismo's bridle over her shoulder and her riding hat already on her head. "Think I borrow your martingale?"

Flo left her brush on her horses back and turned towards her friend. "I have conditions."

"Give them to me."

Flo held out her hand, checking things off on her fingers. "You clean it for me at the end of the week, you muck out for me tonight and we go on a hack."

Y/N let out a sigh. "I'm going out with Lando tonight," she said.

Being in a long distance relationship with an F1 driver wasn't easy. Y/N had to stay in England to take care of Gismo and Sooty while Lando was living in Monaco and travelling the world.

When Y/N could, she got somebody to look after the horses and spent a week with Lando in Monaco. When Lando could, he spent the week at Y/N's, visiting his family and watching her ride.

Y/N tried to spend as much time over the summer and winter breaks with him. But this year Y/N began competing Gismo. Lando travelled with her when he could during her competitions. He always had his camera with him, posting her on the jpg account.

Lando and Y/N had been friends for a bloody long time. When Flo started riding lessons, she was stuck behind a girl on a fat little pony that refused to do more than a walk. When their lesson activity had them riding side by side, Flo and Y/N became fast friends.

They went from a weekend lesson together to being at the yard every single day. They loaned the same horse, Y/N riding him for half of the week and Flo riding him for the other. Most of the time they'd be there on the same day, mucking out his stable together and cleaning his tack together. On Flo's day's to ride, Y/N was the one who sorted the jumps and picked up the shit.

When they were younger, when they'd spend all day at the stables, Y/N would sleep over at the Norris house. Flo lived closer to the yard so it just made sense.

Staying at the Norris house meant meeting Flo's big brother. Y/N had heard stories of him before, stories of his karting and his dreams of being in F1.

And then Y/N met Lando. He was the kind of boy who, when Y/N slept over, he wouldn't leave them alone. He was the annoying big brother that stopped by to make a comment on the film they were watching, steal some of their snacks and run off to play his PlayStation.

When they were teenagers, Y/N fifteen and Lando seventeen, things changed. He kept on with that whole annoying big brother image until he was around fifteen. And then he didn't care about teasing the girls - he was too busy winning in F3.

But at seventeen, he started to see Y/N a little differently. She was fifteen, almost sixteen when she watched him win around Silverstone. When he saw her afterwards, he saw her in a new light. Maybe it was that post win haze. But no, because the feelings didn't go away.

Lando waited two and a bit years before he made a move. He was in F2, then, waiting to take his place on the McLaren F1 team. Y/N and Flo were show jumping at the lower levels and Flo was Y/N's show groom for when she tried her hand at eventing.

Lando came up with every excuse in the book to join Y/N and Flo when they went eventing. He offered to drive the trailer for them, offered to groom and tack up Sooty for her. Of course, Lando had no idea what he was doing when it came to grooming and tacking up.

Flo was heavily judging her brother, but she let him come with them. He stood by the trailer, feeding Sooty mints while Y/N and Flo tacked up.

Before Lando entered F1, he knew he had to make his move. Y/N had agreed to help Flo with her horses for the night while she was off doing something unknown. It was November and Lando had just turned 19. It was now or never.

Lando made his way down to the stables. It was dark and freezing, the stables lit by floodlights. Y/N had mucked out Flo's horses and had moved onto hay. Her own horses hadn't yet been taken care of; she could deal with them once she was done with Flo's horses. Lando walked across the yard, trying to avoid getting mud on his shoes. "Y/N?" He called, looking from stable to stable.

Y/N emerged from a barn. She was in her black riding pants, mud splashed up the side. The mud disappeared under her coat and she wore a knitted beanie on her head. "Lando? What're you doing here?" She asked as she walked out of the barn with hay in her arms.

Lando let out a laugh when he saw the mud up her side. "Did you fall off or something?"

She let out a laugh as she threw the hay over the stable door. "Yeah, Sooty decided there was a gremlin hiding in the corner of the arena and freaked out," she answered as she bolted the stable door shut.

With Flo's horses done, Y/N started looking after her own. As she mucked out, Lando talked to her and gave Gismo attention. "So, McLaren, huh?" Y/N asked as she moved Gismo away from the stable door. "You excited?"

"You know it, baby!" Lando cheered. But his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he scratched at the back of his neck. "Are you gonna come to any of my races?"

"Yeah I'll go with Flo."

But that wasn't what Lando meant. He cleared his throat and rocked on his heels. "What if Flo doesn't go to any? Will you?"

Y/N stopped and put her broom against the stable wall. She crossed her arms over her coat and turned towards her best friends brother. "What are you trying to say, Lan?" Because there was clearly something he wasn't getting across.

Lan. He loved it. He loved when Y/N called him Lan. He somehow went even more red as he looked at her. "I want you to come to my races with me, whether Flo is there or not."

Y/N's eyes went wide. "Oh holy shit, Lan. I'd love to." She looked back at Gismo. "But I can't. Not when I've got these guys."

"Let me take you on a date then, before I go."

That was five years ago. Now, everybody was waiting for the couple to get engaged.

They were in the process of trying to move in together, but that meant Y/N moving the horses with her. Trying to find a stables just outside of Monaco that wasn't over the top expensive seemed too be an impossible task. Lando was happy to pay any amount of money to have his girlfriend and the horses there with him.

But Y/N didn't want to do that. She didn't want to have to rely on Lando to pay for everything. She was going to make it to Monaco, to be there with him, on her own.

Until then they were stuck with the odd date night whenever Lando could come back to England. If Y/N could, she paid somebody to look after Sooty and Gismo while she went to Monaco or to the odd race.

"Is he meeting you here?" Asked Flo as they walked across the stables, towards where they kept their equipment.

Y/N nodded her head. "Should get here just before I'm done with Gismo," she answered. "Pretty good timing if you ask me."

Lando was an incredibly supportive boyfriend. He had to be, with Y/N supporting his Formula One career. Whenever Lando could he came to one of her shows. No matter if she was eventing or jumping or doing dressage, Lando was watching with his camera.

Flo let out a sigh as she passed the martingale to Y/N. "You know, it might actually be nice to see him," she said as she and Y/N made their way back over to the horse.

Y/N quickly got herself and Gismo ready. She led him out to the arena and mounted. She rode him around the arena, warming him up and sending him flying over jumps as she waited for her boyfriend to appear.

Boyfriend. It had been weird saying that at first. After he and Y/N had their first date Lando was whisked away into the world of Formula One. They called a lot in that time, but it was strange. Their dynamics had changed but they weren't together yet.

It was a while before they got to have a second date.

A month after the second they had their third. That was when Lando officially asked her to be his.

That was five years ago.

As soon as Lando turned up to the stables, he knew white trainers had been a mistake. Actually, bringing such an expensive car had been a mistake. But, he got out anyway, locked it, and walked to where he knew he would find his girlfriend.

Lando was in awe every time he watched her ride. He couldn't tear her eyes away as she sent Gismo flying over the jumps, throwing her hands forward to let his neck stretch.

Lando had sat on Gismo before. He was the calmer of the two horses, the only one Y/N trusted to take care of Lando.

When Y/N finished jumping and brought Gismo back down to a trot, Lando clapped. Once upon a time he had whistled for her, but Sooty had spooked and Y/N had fallen off. Lando hadn't done it since.

"Lan!" Y/N called as she steers Gismo towards him. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," said Lando as Gismo put his head over the fence, searching him for treats. When he discovered Lando didn't have any, he resorted to getting attention instead. "Missed you as well, Gremlin."

Y/N took two minutes to cool Gismo down before she jumped off. She took him back to the stable and untacked him in record time, all while Lando watched. It was incredible watching her do the thing she loved, he realised. She must've felt the same way about him.

As soon as she was done, it was time for date night. Y/N finally managed to wrap her arms around Lando, holding him close. "You're gonna stink of horses," she said as Lando squeezed her even tighter.

"I don't care," he answered before he kissed her.

Keeping one arm around her waist, Lando walked her out to the car. Her boots were muddy on his cars interior, but Lando didn't care. She could have walked shit into his car and he wouldn't have cared.

"I brought that dress you like," Lando said. Before he'd gotten to the stables he'd stopped at Y/Ns apartment to get something for her to wear.

"You're the best, Lan," she said as she sorted the music.

I won't bore you with the details of their drive to their drive to the restaurant. Once they pulled up in the car park Y/N tried her best to get dressed in the not very spacious car, since their was no way she was getting in in her state. She combed her fingers through her hair, brushing out any hay.

"Goddamn," said Lando as she stepped out the car. Y/N slipped her hand into his and she walked in.

The restaurant was nice, rather fancy. The pair shared a candle-lit Italian dinner, with music playing softly in the background. Y/N listened eagerly as Lando spoke about his last race. "I really wish you were there, though," he muttered as he finished his dinner. "I can't wait for you to move to Monaco."

"I know, Lan. I can't wait either," she replied. They were making progress. Y/N had found a stables near enough by and it wasn't too pricy. She had a key to Lando's apartment, where she was staying for the weekend while he was away at another race.

As soon as they were finished eating, Lando asked for the bill. "No dessert?" Y/N asked with a frown. Lando loved his dessert, but today he was rushing.

"Nope," Lando answered as he paid. "My trainer would kill me."

As soon as he had paid, Lando escorted Y/N out of the restaurant. He walked her over to the car, stopping half way to do up his laces.

"Thanks for tonight, Lan," she said as she turned towards him.

But, when she did, Lando wasn't doing up his laces. He was down on one knew, an open ring box in his hand. Inside of the ring box was, well, a ring. It was simple, a band with a small stone, just the way Y/N liked it. "I know we haven't moved in together yet, but I really wanna marry you."

There was a moment where Y/N couldn't answer him. She was in complete and utter shock. The only talks of marriage had been tabloid speculation, no indicators from Lando himself. "Holy shit, Lan," she said, because that was all she could say.

It wasn't a question of whether Y/N wanted to marry him. Of course she did. She wanted that more than anything.

"Holy shit Lando Norris. Of course I'll marry you."

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bellaxgiornata · 3 months

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Right Here, Right Now

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Matt had been working hard on a case for over a month now, meaning the two of you had barely seen each other in weeks. After he, Foggy, and Karen finally have their win in court, he invites you out to Josie's to celebrate with them. Though it soon becomes apparent to you that he has something in particular on his mind tonight.

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, public fingering, and Matt being a little shit along with his filthy mouth also deserves a warning

a/n: Just a last minute smut fic I threw together as a little spicy treat for Valentine's Day for y'all. Hopefully you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @petrovafire39

Thumbnail caught between your teeth, you chewed it fiercely as you sat in the booth at the bar. Because ever since you'd come to Josie’s to meet up with Matt and your friends over an hour ago, he'd been doing nothing but intentionally working you up.

And he had been anything but subtle about it.

Earlier today Matt, Foggy, and Karen had finally won their case in court, a case that you knew they'd been endlessly toiling away on for over a month. You'd barely just gotten back to your apartment after work when Matt had called and told you the good news, urging you to meet them down at Josie’s. Having been excited to celebrate with everyone–especially since you'd barely seen Matt in weeks–you'd hurried straight there. You hadn't even bothered to change out of your work clothes before you’d left because you’d been so eager to finally have a chance to see Matt again, which left you still wearing one of the dresses you occasionally wore to work on incredibly hot summer days like today.

You knew Matt loved your dresses, he'd told you that plenty of times by now. And while you were very aware of the fact that the pair of you had barely spent time together since their firm had initially taken this case many weeks ago, you hadn't anticipated the reaction he'd be having to you tonight.

At first you hadn't noticed much out of the ordinary when you’d arrived at the bar. Matt had wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in close to the side of him as he ordered your drink. Though you had noticed how he held onto you tighter tonight than he usually did whenever the pair of you were out together, as if he needed to have part of you constantly touching him this evening. Not long after you'd gotten your beer, Matt's hand had begun to dip lower and lower on your waist, the tips of his fingers teasingly grazing the top of your ass. You had almost choked on the sip of your drink you'd just taken when his fingers began toying with the waistband of your panties through the thin fabric of your dress. Struggling to remain focused on the conversation at the time, all you could think about was Matt's damn hands peeling them off of you later. Every slight snap of the material from his teasing fingers had your breath catching in your throat and your cheeks beginning to flush.

But if his wandering hands hadn't already been enough, he'd also been taking moments to lean over and whisper things into your ear whenever Karen and Foggy were talking. You'd slowly lost the ability to pay attention at all to what those two were saying as the things Matt's deep voice kept purring into your ear gradually became filthier and filthier.

At first the comments had been sweet; mainly Matt telling you that he'd missed you and how he was looking forward to finally having time to spend with you now that he wouldn't be working on that case anymore. But then he'd begun to tell you how good you smelled this evening. Which eventually led to him telling you how much he had missed you in his bed over the past few weeks and what he was looking forward to doing once the pair of you left Josie’s tonight–in explicit detail.

That's when he began to tell you that he knew how aroused you were becoming; that he couldn't just smell the dampness forming between your legs, but that he could hear the slickness with every shift of your body beside him. It wasn't as if you could help it though because his voice alone always had an undeniable effect on you–which he damn well knew. And him catching the scent of your growing arousal only seemed to amplify the obscene things he kept whispering into your ear while he still wore that innocent smile on his face for Karen and Foggy. But there was one comment in particular that had been rolling around in your head over and over for the past hour now. You couldn't stop hearing it repeat in your mind in that same sultry growl in which he'd first said it in.

Before we even leave this bar tonight, sweetheart, I’m going to soak that dress and those panties more than they already are. I can promise you that.

You remembered the fresh bit of wet heat that formed between your thighs the moment those words had left his mouth, his hot breath dancing along your neck. You'd shuddered, becoming incredibly aware of every inch of your side he had pressed up against his. With the way he kept whispering in your ear all night, you figured that was his plan for the evening. To turn you on solely with his voice and the dirty things he was saying before leaving the bar tonight. But the moment everyone had sat down at the booth Karen had pointed out, you'd realized he might've had something else in mind.

Which is when you knew that you were in far more trouble tonight than you could have ever realized.

For the past twenty minutes Matt's left hand kept touching you underneath the table, oscillating between one exhilarating touch after another. A firm squeeze to your knee, his palm just beneath the hem of your dress. His hand resting on your thigh, the warmth of it seeping through your dress and growing the heat already building inside of you. And, a few times, he'd actually slipped his hand up beneath the fabric itself, languidly sliding it deliciously slow until you felt a gentle graze of fingertips along the inside of your thigh, just below your already wet underwear.

You were without a doubt already a flustered mess in the booth. Yet Matt didn't seem remotely satisfied, his hand still relentlessly teasing you under the table while he continued on conversering with his friends like nothing more was occurring. He was drinking back his beer and actively participating in the conversation while occasionally flashing you knowing, devilish smiles. Meanwhile, you could still barely focus on the conversation long enough to add much to it.

It was the sound of Foggy’s phone a little later alerting him to a text that finally caught your attention, tearing it away from the way Matt's index finger was currently drawing circles over your right knee. Both of your hands were fidgeting with your beer bottle above the table, your face feeling hot as you watched him pull the phone out of his pocket.

“It's Marci,” Foggy announced, still reading the text. “She's back from work and wondering when I'll be home.” He glanced up from his phone screen, a slight frown on his lips. “I should probably get going, I don't want to make her wait up for me.”

Beside him, Karen glanced down at her own phone on the table, unlocking the screen and checking the time. “Maybe I should head out too,” she said. “It is starting to get kind of late.”

A flood of relief instantly washed over you as you perked up across the table. If both of them were calling it a night, that meant you and Matt could leave, too. Which also meant you could head back to either of your apartments and do something about all the growing sexual tension and Matt's incessant teasing, because by now you were becoming desperate for some sort of relief. But just as you shifted in your seat, about to open your mouth and eagerly agree with the idea of leaving, Matt's hand tightened around your knee. Your brief hesitation gave him a chance to respond first.

“You both head on out,” he began, tone far too casual as he spoke. “I think we might actually stay a bit. It's been awhile since we've really gotten to spend time together with everything going on these past few weeks.”

“Just don't stay up too late tonight, kids,” Foggy joked, already sliding out of the seat across from you and Matt. “We've got a meeting bright and early tomorrow morning!”

Matt chuckled good-naturedly, his hand inching up under the hem of your dress as he did. You straightened in your seat at the touch, spine pressing against the back of the booth as you wondered why in the hell he wanted to stay.

“You don't have to worry about me, buddy,” he assured him. “I'll be ready for tomorrow morning.”

Karen slid out of the booth behind Foggy, one hand brushing some loose blonde hair out of her face as she sent you and Matt a warm smile. You returned the smile as best as you could, hoping neither of them had noticed how unusually quiet you'd been tonight.

“I know how much we've been hogging Matt the past few weeks,” Karen told you, readjusting her purse strap as she rose to her feet beside the booth. “So I hope you two enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Thanks, I'm–I'm sure we will,” you replied, trying to fight back the quiver in your voice as Matt's thumb slid across the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, we most certainly will,” he told her with a smile, his hand giving your thigh a slight squeeze.

Hips shifting along the booth's bench, you tried to ignore the growing ache between your legs, finding it hard to remain casual with how Matt was making you feel. You weren't sure what his reasoning was for not getting up and leaving right now with them, but you sure hoped you could convince him to get out of here fast once they'd left.

“It was good seeing you both again tonight,” you told the pair of them. “And congratulations again on winning that case.”

“We'll see you at the next big celebratory win!” Foggy said, shooting you a wave.

You sent them both a wave in return before they turned and headed towards the exit to Josie’s, the pair of them walking side by side. Matt's hand remained on your thigh as you watched them go, his other hand picking up his half-finished beer from the table. Your attention shifted to him beside you, watching as he drew the bottle up to his lips, taking a deep pull before he set the beer back down. Your gaze remained on his mouth, watching as the tip of his tongue slipped out and ran along his lips. The thought of that skilled tongue being put to use had your cunt pathetically clenching around nothing.

“You're so damn wet I can barely taste my own beer,” Matt said, voice just loud enough for you to hear. “All I have been able to taste for the past hour is you and your dripping cunt.”

Fighting a shudder threatening to roll down your spine, your own hands tightened around the neck of your beer bottle on the table. “That's your own doing, Matt,” you pointed out, sounding more breathless than you'd have liked. “You're the one who won't stop teasing me tonight.”

“And you're the one showing up in a dress,” he countered, his covered gaze finally landing on you. “You know I can't resist when you wear them.”

“I didn't feel like changing before I left,” you replied, heart pounding a little faster as you felt his hand begin to glide further up beneath your dress. “I was excited to see you and I hadn't thought–” you paused, eyelids fluttering momentarily when one of his fingers finally swiped ever so gently just over your soaked underwear.

“Hadn't thought what, sweetheart?” he asked cheekily.

You could feel your pulse pounding in your own aching cunt by now, your body tense as it desperately begged for more stimulation than that light touch. Breath coming in a bit sharper, you tried to focus your thoughts to answer him.

“Hadn't thought you'd react like this,” you whispered.

“Mmm,” Matt hummed out, turning more towards you in the booth, his hand still lingering on the inside of your thigh, fingers dangerously close to where you wanted them. “Well it has been awhile since I've had the opportunity to properly take care of my girl because of that damn case. I suppose I just couldn't resist you tonight.”

“So then let's get out of here,” you urged. “My place or yours tonight, I don't care, Matt. Just stop teasing me because I can't take it any longer. I miss you.”

You heard the sharp intake of breath that came from him at the sound of your plea. Behind his dark lenses you saw the way his eyes had closed, his jaw tightening.

“Please, Matt,” you begged, hoping the distress in your voice would help convince him. “Let's just go.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, his nostrils flaring sharply as his eyes opened once more behind the red lenses. “I do love how you sound when you get like this,” he murmured. “But if you're that needy for a release already, why wait, sweetheart?”

Brows drawing together on your forehead, you eyed him in confusion. “What?” you asked.

The corner of his lip tugged up into a sinful smirk. “Why not let me get you off right here, right now? Right in this booth,” he suggested, tone darkening.

Your eyes darted around the bar, the thought of Matt’s fingers on you right here raising goosebumps along your arms. While there were a handful of patrons scattered around Josie’s tonight, some were playing pool while others were at the bar, drinking down their drinks. There was no one even remotely near your booth. A nervous laugh slipped out of you as you focused back on Matt.

“You're not actually serious, are you?” you asked. “We're in the middle of a bar , Matt. And we aren't exactly here alone.”

He shrugged a single shoulder in response. “So?” he asked. “I can be discreet if you can be quiet.”

Lips parting in surprise, you sat there in stunned silence. The devilish smirk only grew on his lips as his right hand once again lifted his beer bottle from the table, bringing it slowly up to his mouth for another drink that he took so irritatingly calm and casual.

“Though it's entirely up to you, of course,” he continued after he'd swallowed, lowering the bottle back to the table. “You know I'd certainly never want to make you uncomfortable. So if you'd rather us wait until we've walked all the way back to my place–the closest option–then we most certainly can. Or,” he purred, his finger once again lightly gliding along your cunt over your wet underwear, your eyes nearly rolling back at the touch, “I can take care of you here. With my fingers. And then fuck you far more thoroughly back at my place after.”

He shot you a charming smile that had you feeling weak already. He damn well knew what he had been doing to you all night, especially with those senses of his. Had this been his goal all along? To work you up so much that you'd actually want to do this? Because truthfully, it had worked. You were considering it.

“The choice is yours, sweetheart,” he told you.

Once again your eyes darted around the bar, unable to believe that you were actually contemplating his offer. But this was Matt and you'd often found he had a way of making you comfortable and willing to try new things–like letting him get you off in the middle of a dive bar that the pair of you often frequented. But no one here was even remotely paying the pair of you any attention where you were sitting in the corner of the bar. If you kept quiet, no one would be able to see anything that was happening beneath the table. And did you really want to wait the ten minute walk back to Matt's apartment building? And then another few minutes on top of that while you both made it up to his apartment before getting any sort of release?

No, no you really didn't.

“Okay, you win,” you whispered.

Matt rested his right elbow up on the tabletop, his stubbled chin coming to land in his palm as he focused on you. That damn smile was still on his mouth.

“You're going to have to tell me what you want,” he replied. “I'm not a mind reader.”

You rolled your eyes at him and the way he was purposely drawing this out. He could be such a goddamn tease when he wanted to be.

“I want you to touch me,” you said. “Get me off here and then take me home after, Matthew. I can’t wait any longer.”

His head tilted to the side in his palm, his dark brows rising playfully up above his glasses. “You sure you can manage to keep quiet enough?” he asked.

With an irritated huff, you rolled your eyes at him again. “Yes, now can you stop toying with me and– fuck .”

A satisfied smile spread across his mouth as one of his fingers landed directly on your swollen clit over the fabric of your damp underwear. He'd only applied a faint bit of pressure with the pad of his finger, but already it had felt so damn good in comparison to the burning ache you'd been dealing with most of the night.

“I told you we'd have to save that for when we got back to my place,” he teased, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Don't think we'd quite manage to get away unnoticed in the booth doing that .”

“You're such an asshole, Matthew,” you breathed out.

He chuckled in response, his finger making a circle along the sensitive bud beneath it. “You sure now is the time for insults, sweetheart?” he asked. “Because I can stop.”

Your eyelids closed as you weakly shook your head, every part of you focused on the delicious pressure of his finger. “No,” you nearly whimpered. “Please don't stop, Matt.”

He hummed out a pleased noise in response, his finger continuing to circle your clit over the top of your underwear. Your breath was coming in sharp, short gasps as you fought to reopen your eyes and keep them open, remembering that you were both still in public and that you needed to keep your composure. Though keeping your expression neutral was difficult with Matt's smirking face directly in your line of sight. He looked so smug as his finger continued to gently rub against you.

But he wasn’t doing nearly enough to ease the growing desire between your legs and get you off. And it was becoming obvious that it was purposeful.

“Come on, Matt,” you whined. “Haven't you teased me enough tonight? Can you please stop already?”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he replied. “If you insist.”

His fingers hooked around your underwear, pulling it to the side and out of his way. Two of his thick digits soon slid between your soaked folds, running back and forth along the length of them as he gathered your slick. A rumbling growl vibrated in Matt's chest as the expression on his face abruptly darkened, that teasing smirk quickly vanishing.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he snarled between gritted teeth.

Your mouth went dry instantly at the sound of the Devil’s voice. You hadn’t expected that.

“Need me that bad, do you?” he growled low. “Already soaked your panties because you're so eager? And all it took was my voice?”

The tip of one of his fingers lightly brushed over your clit in a series of quick, gentle strokes. Your body gave a jolt in the booth, your breath hitching in your throat at the feather-light assault.

“Maybe I should make you soak my fingers along with that dress, hmm?” he purred. “Right here in this bar. You'd like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?”

Hands releasing the bottle of your beer, they immediately clamped down onto the edge of the table. You had a feeling you were going to need to hold on to something if the Devil was about to play with you in the middle of Josie’s.

“Mhmm,” you hummed out, spreading your legs a little wider beneath the table in open invitation. “Please.”

The corner of Matt’s lip pulled up into something feral as you felt his finger leave the little swollen nub, instead lining it up with your dripping entrance. You’d barely had a chance to mentally prepare yourself for what was to come before he plunged that lone digit straight inside of you. Teeth clamping down on your bottom lip, you fought back the noise that nearly flew out of your mouth, managing to trap it in the back of your throat instead as your hands gripped the table.

“That's right, keep quiet, sweetheart,” the Devil rumbled out. “Don't want anyone here to know that I'm touching you, do we?”

“No,” you breathed out, shaking your head.

His finger began to pump into your cunt painfully slow as he slid even closer next to you in the booth. His thigh pressed up right against yours and a whine managed to faintly slip out of your lips. The moment you felt his lips brush along the shell of your ear though, a lightheadedness washed over you.

“You're doing so good being quiet for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear with each word as his finger continued its unhurried rhythm. “Should we see just how quiet you can be?”

Your eyes clamped shut, your body feeling like it was burning up beside Matt's. A shuddering exhale left you as your hands clung tighter to the table as if that would somehow help you keep from making a single sound.

Before you knew what was happening, Matt plunged a second finger inside of you. A surprised gasp flew out of your mouth, your eyes flying back open. His fingers increased their pace, the soft, obscene squelch of your wet cunt meeting your ears over the faint chatter of the bar and the quiet classic rock that was playing. Matt moaned quietly beside your ear, his hot breath cascading down the side of your neck only making you feel even more dizzy.

“Good girl,” the Devil praised beside your ear. “Keeping so quiet for me while I fuck you with my fingers.”

A moan once again started in the back of your throat at his words, one you were desperately trying to hold back. But it was becoming difficult to stay aware of your surroundings and the need to not make a noise when his fingers started to curl inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that had white beginning to dance at the corner of your eyes. Matt's own ragged breaths in your ear wasn't helping your situation. You could tell he was becoming increasingly worked up beside you, too, at the sound of each of his own sharp growls.

“Should I let you cum already?” he whispered into your ear. “Would you like that?”

You nodded frantically in response, eager for the promise of a release from all the tension that had been building up inside of you tonight.

“Yes,” you begged. “Please, Matt, please.”

Another rumbling growl from him met your ears and your cunt clenched around Matt's fingers. He groaned low beside you in response, the sound deep within his throat.

“I love it when you beg, sweetheart,” he whispered. “And you have been so good for me tonight. So I want you to cum. I want you to drench my fingers here in the middle of Josie’s. But,” he continued, the Devil’s tone turning to that of a warning as you felt the pad of his thumb land on your clit, “you better not make a fucking sound when you do.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded obediently as you attempted to mutter out an affirmative response. Though it was hard to form much of a thought with the way his two fingers kept diligently fucking you now combined with the tantalizing movements of his thumb on your throbbing clit. His voice in your ear and the feel of his hard body against the side of yours was already pushing you over the edge now.

Your climax was within reach, you could feel that familiar pressure building to its peak deep inside of you, begging to be let loose with each thrust of his fingers and brush of his thumb pad. Your hands had grown clammy as you fought to hold onto the table, your back arching in the booth as you struggled to keep your eyes from rolling back in ecstasy.

But the closer and closer you inched to your release, the harder and harder it was becoming to keep silent. Whimpers and whines were falling out between your quivering lips, the sounds mingling with each wet thrust of his fingers inside of you and his own labored breaths in your ear.

“I know, I know,” he cooed. “You're so close, sweetheart. I can feel it. Just let go for me.”

Your body was beginning to shake under the strain of remaining composed in the booth. The pleased, encouraging noises coming from Matt weren't helping your efforts either, especially as that moan inside of you began to build just as your climax unexpectedly slammed into you like a brick wall.

You'd barely opened your mouth before Matt lunged at you, his own lips practically crashing onto you and smothering yours. The moan you'd been about to loose throughout the bar was quickly muffled by his own mouth as he swallowed the sound of it down his throat. With his mouth feverishly attacking yours in a mix of tongue and teeth, his hand continued to work you through your climax beneath the table, dragging it out and drawing you through it. One of your hands released the death grip you had on the table, landing on Matt's thick thigh just beside yours. You dug your nails into his muscle through his dress pants as your body trembled along the bench, a low moan once more barreling out of you and straight into his mouth one last time as you came hard on his fingers.

Gradually Matt's fingers slowed to a stop, your body sinking back into the booth as if it suddenly weighed far too much. His mouth broke away from yours, his own chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, still trying to recover from the body-shaking orgasm he’d just given you in public. His face was flushed, his cheeks slightly reddened. It almost looked like there was even the slightest sheen of sweat above his brow.

“That was not exactly quiet, sweetheart,” he lightly chastised, carefully withdrawing his fingers from inside of you. “You’re lucky I noticed before everyone else here did.”

You shot him a blissful, tired smile, your head resting against the back of the booth as you gazed back at him. “Thank God for your senses, then,” you joked, still a little breathless.

The corner of Matt’s mouth quirked up into a smirk as he continued to focus on you, the lenses of his glasses glinting under the red neon sign on the wall beside your booth. His left hand appeared from underneath the table moments later, coated and obviously glistening with your slick under the red light. He raised both fingers up to his lips before slipping them inside his mouth, sucking your arousal off of them with a satisfied moan that sounded low in the back of his throat. A shiver ran up your spine as you watched him slowly slide his two fingers back out from between his plush lips, his focus never leaving you.

“I don’t think it’s God that you should be thanking right now,” he murmured, the Devil once more grinning back at you.

Your cunt immediately twitched back awake at that voice, bottom lip rolling between your teeth. Matt's tongue slid out between his lips, sensually running along the length of them before an impatient growl rumbled out of him.

“Now what’s going to happen next,” the Devil began, his voice raising the hair on the back of your neck, “is you’re going to get out of this booth like nothing happened,” he told you. “And then I’m going to take you and that deliciously drenched pussy back to my place where I’m going to have my fill of you. And this time, sweetheart?” he continued, the red of the neon light washing over his face as he leaned in towards you. “I want to hear every goddamn sound you make. You got that?”

Swallowing hard, you immediately sobered up in the booth beside him. You nodded in response, already eagerly beginning to slide out of the booth after him, incredibly aware of how pathetically wet you still were beneath your dress. But you weren’t about to deny the Devil what he wanted when you loved playing with him as much as you did.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock #daredevil

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

Text

The cards stopped coming on his 17th birthday.

The year prior had been one of the few birthdays his parents attended, the last one had been his tenth.

His dad made a big show of giving him his car, this was back when he was still proud of Steve in a sick sense of showing him off. Captain of the basketball team, captain of the swimming team, girl on his arm from a good family, a B average in school. The day was filled with promises of working for his dad one day, of going to a good college, a first paycheck, the car was just the beginning of the bright future ahead of him.

Steve would learn about monsters before his 17th birthday. No card came that year, his grades had slipped, he quit the swim team, Nancy was gone.

No card came on his 18th, soon he'd be graduating, the new mall was opening up soon, he had a job starting in the summer, he had quit basketball.

No card came on his 19th but he spent the day with the kids and Robin, they went down to the quarry, replacing bad memories with good ones, it didn't matter that there was an empty letterbox.

No card came on his 20th, not that Steve was home to notice, his birthday passed unbeknownst to him, he spent it sitting beside hospital beds, hoping for a miracle.

No card came on his 21st, by now Steve didn't even check, Eddie kissed him that day, that was better than any card.

The month before his 22nd birthday, his parents came home. The time of their arrival was almost comical, since Steve was leaving. He and Eddie were carrying the last couple boxes downstairs when they opened the door.

"Steven, where are you going, who's van is outside?"

"I'm moving out Mom, that's Eddie's van I'm moving in with him downtown."

"Moving? Steven you're only 17."

Steve turned towards his parents, not fully believing the words that had come out of his mother's mouth. All those years they'd left their child blurring together until they couldn't even remember how old he was.

"I turn 22, next month Mom, no need to send a card."

Steve spent his 22nd wrapped up with his boyfriend in their new apartment, Steve wouldn't want to spend it any other way.

#stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #st4 #steddie #stranger things season 4 #ficlet #angst #poor steve #fuck the harringtons

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cheriladycl01 · 3 months

Text

I said don't peak C Long, you suck. Oscar/Lando/Liam/Logan x Streamer! Reader

Plot: You are a streamer and competitive Valorant Player for Fnatic, in the off season Lando reaches out after you win Valorant Champion's to teach him how to play as he's getting bored of Fortnite.

A/N: This is very Valorant heavy, if you do not like gaming proceed with caution as you may be a little confused but the good vibes are there!

Credit to givemegifs for the GIF

You were part of the Fnatic Valorant team, in 2023 you'd helped them win back to back championships for Lock//In and VCT Masters. You were offered your seat at the start of 2023.

You were already very close with your IGL Boaster, being from the same area helped. But after meeting your other teammates, Derke, Chronicle and Alfajer you guys became amazing when playing together.

It was hard being the only woman on the team, you'd come from Game Changers being on an all female team to all of these men. However your stats were high and you were a massive part of the team.

You were a complete bombshell, people knew you were good from your IGL role and seeing you compete previously but Fnatic really lucked out having you on their team.

You often hung out with him and his girlfriend Yinsu. You felt bad when they'd offer you to crash their date and often it took hours of convincing you to come with them before you did.

But they got busier, and your other Valorant friends who you either couldn't see because they were on the other side of the world or they were also extremely busier you started to get into a bit of a slump.

You'd go to practice with the team, the only fun and exciting part of your day, before going choosing between a cafe, restaurant or bar to spend your evening in, hoping someone or a group of people would come up and offer you to join them on their nightly adventures.

After an extremely good start to 2024 with another Championship trophy, you'd been saying to stream how you wanted to start playing more games and make a YouTube account for IRL you...

They jumped at the offer, begging you in chat to do both. Apart from Valorant, which of course was your main game as a professional player, you played other games at the request of your fans. Sometimes being small niche indie games where you would just be able to chill with music and answer their burning questions or sometimes you'd play throw back games, like Minecraft, GTA San Andreas, Resident Evil 4 which would often be pretty chaotic but fun none the less.

You'd even once played FIFA... which was awful and you would not do well as a professional football player or a professional FIFA player. You were so bad that actual footballers had reached out to you joking around with how they'd stay clear of you on the pitch.

But it was when you were asked to play the new F12024 game that you looked at your chat as if they were crazy. The sim set up's were crazy expensive, not that you couldn't afford that. Of course you could. But you didn't want it to be a waste of room or parts for what could potentially be a one time use.

This is how Lando Norris ended up in your chat. He'd spent the start of his 2023 winter break playing Fortnite with AngryGinge, and even off stream in his downtime between races he would often still be playing it.

However, by the time summer break rolled around it was getting stale, and Tarkov was too. He needed something new, and Max kept trying to get him to play Valorant, Oscar did too saying it was a mix of Call of Duty and Overwatch and it was very fun to play.

So of course he did his research, being free he downloaded it anyway. It was free even if it sat there and never got played it wasn't like he was loosing anything. After doing research and watching some gameplay, he'd fallen asleep and the YouTube algorithm took him on his journey to you.

He slept peacefully despite the change in volume, gun sounds, voice lines and all the talking behind the videos that YouTube were throwing at him. When he woke up, he was graced with your, in his bold opinion, stunning face. He watched as you played, it was seemingly a montage of your best moments. The camera would often change from you being in a bedroom, to a stadium to a different room.

He was so so intrigued he just had to go down a deep dive of you content. He spent nearly a whole Tuesday looking into your content, from your old stream vod's to the Vlog's on your IRL channel. You just had this personality he assumed would draw anyone in.

I mean who wouldn't like you, you were young, funny, absolutely gorgeous and kind.

So he reached out to you.

At first you didn't see the DM and follow request as you rarely opened Instagram, but after winning your second Cup in 2024 and having spent time in America with some of your friends it was time to get posting.

Lando Norris... you were confused by the name. These day's anyone with some cash could have a blue tick, so you looked over his profile and was surprised to find an athlete.

An athlete in your DM's wasn't uncommon, but a young hot one asking for a Valorant coach for him and his racing friends... now that was rare.

You replied instantly, the thought of being able to hang out with new people and gain some friends was exciting to you. Lando asked if you would be willing to meet up with him, he thought discord was a little awkward and cringey for the first time meeting someone. He happened to be in London so it was sort of perfect.

You met, and he was a nice as you expected. He let you talk about everything you wanted to, never interrupting, never trying to one up your stories... just listening and adding his input where necessary. But you let him do the same, your eyes lighting up when you saw his passion for his career in racing and how highly he spoke of it.

It was just incredible. The way he drove round all of those corner at insane speeds that you'd never dare reach in your Audi TT! And when he went into the behind the scenes you were even more in wonder.

When it came to talk about coaching him in Valorant, at first he'd made a joke about learning so Quadrant could have a Valorant team and beat Fnatic in championships, to which you'd retorted saying Fnatic would become a constructor in F1 and make the fastest car on the grid.

However, he was being partially serious. He wanted to move quadrant forward and with all the announcements they had made at the start of the year, it was time to do more things that would get peoples attention from different places.

He was thinking of a Quadrant team of well of course 5 people with some reserves. Max was the best right now, not close to your Immortal level, peaking Radiant. But he was now in Plat territory whereas Lando dreaded to think of where he would be.

"So you want us to play, with your friends Oscar, Liam and Logan. In a 5 stack on stream..." you'd asked and he nodded enthusiastically. You'd grinned just as enthusiastic.

However, right now you were in the middle of crying from both laugher and frustration. They all played games, however you didn't know that none of them had played Valorant.

When you first started your chat was going crazy, not only was this great because your fans were seeing you coach, but it brought in all the F1 fans so they could watch their fave drivers play games.

"So, how about just a small little warm up with a deathmatch?" you asked them all, and the silence that came after was deafening.

"Guys?" you asked with an awkward laugh, checking you weren't accidently muted and talking to yourself.

"Sorry Y/N your gonna have to explain each thing to us" Liam laughed.

"Okay, Deathmatch is where you kill anyone and everyone. Might be hard for you guys, as it will be really mixed elo!" you explain. However doing a deathmatch just had them complaining, only Oscar and Liam had managed to kill you. Oscar having decent aim from his time on COD and catching you of guard and Liam being a sneaky rat, coming up behind you and knifing you.

"Okay that was so unfair... you've got like look at that she got to 40 in no time... that was the quickest game mode ever!" Logan complained, salty with his 5 kills.

"How about a team death match. We are all on the same team then, first team to 100 wins, so we are all winners that way" you smile, hoping they'd prefer it more.

Which they did, you chilled out a little, letting them practice and get the gist of things while giving them pointers, when Lando flashed you with his ability or when Liam chucked a grenade at you. Or littler things like their movement, and how to not sweep the floor with their cross hair. But it was hard coaching when you couldn't see everything.

"Okay, lets move onto some swift plays?" you ask and a chorus of agreements dound through the mic. You explained the game mode to them while you were all in agent select before explaining how a good team looks. It was hard where 3 of them only had the standard characters. You settled on Lando as Pheonix, Logan as Sage, and Liam as Sova. Oscar only had three other characters unlocked being Iso, the newest agent, KAY/0 because in his words 'cool robot guy' and then of course Skye because she was Australian. He ended up picking Skye which left you locking in Omen to smoke as you didn't trust any of them to smoke.

"I think this is the most busted team composition I've ever had" you admit.

"Well, the more we play with you the more characters we unlock, now which one is from America!" Logan asks and you explain to him Viper and Brimstone are both American.

"Any cool people from New Zealand?" Liam asks hopefully.

"No not yet but RiotGames if for some reason you are in the chat, or if you see this. Lets get a New Zealander agent and call it Liam!" you exclaim.

"They should get a female British Agent and call it Y/N and make it look like you!" Lando offers before saying one of Pheonix's voice lines that he just heard.

"That would be very cool, take notes Riot!" you smile widely.

"So like, do you ever sit there and think... wow i play games for a living" Logan asks, filter completely gone and out the window, making you choke on the sip of water you were having at the sudden and brash question.

"Do you ever sit back and think ... wow i drive fast cars for a living?" you try snap back but you realize his job does in fact down a lot cooler than yours.

"Nah, guys don't sell her short. From one YouTube Guy to a YouTube Gal, cough cough collab when ..., your doing great!" Liam jokes, thinking of his part-time YouTube career on the side of being a F1 reserve driver.

"Ohhhhh a collab with the Liam Lawson! I'm honored, but fr i would love to do Disney with you and Hannah!" you grin, having made sure to watch his vlogs in detail before you all played games.

"You watch my vlogs??" he asks screaming into his mic.

"On occasion..."

"Do you watch my LandoLogs" Lando asks interrupting the sweet and wholesome moment between you and Liam.

"No!" you exclaim before continuing your conversation with Liam making the others all snicker.

For some reason, Lando and Liam had taken the spike A while Logan and Oscar peaked B window. You jiggle peaked C long and narrowly missed an Operator. Seeing that you decide to rotate back to where Lando and Liam are rotating to Oscar and Logan.

"Don't peak C Long, its being held by an op" you let them know.

As you peak garage, you get the first kill. Then the round picks up, someone swinging out from B main giving you a quick flick and a head shot.

"What the hell guys, I said don't peak C long, you suck!" you exclaim, checking that both Lando and Liam were dead at the end of C long along with spike.

"Look, in my defence i heard 'peak C long" Lando says, with a mouth full of food watching you play.

"I just tried to reclaim spike after Lando died, i heard you loud and clear" Liam justifies whilst throwing Lando under the bus.

"Okay Oscar, you stay here" you ping the map where you wanted him to lurk until you got onto site.

"Logan, follow me and we going to go two separate ways" you explain where you want him to go. You both shift onto sight, you going through C window and Logan going through the short alley onto C. You catch a rotator killing them. Logan gets onto sight being the bait for the Sage holding site with the OP. She whiffs the first shot, however get's the neck shot.

"120, she's so low" he cries in frustration.

"Okay Oscar, get spike and rotate to A" you say as you come from behind killing the enemy sage. You take the op from them wanting the advantage of the better gun.

You send your smoke out to A before using your charged up Alt to get onto site before Oscar to secure it. You situate yourself up in heaven. Watching sight, you quickly ping where Oscar should plant they you'll both be able to see from A heaven and A long.

"We got this Osc" you say as he retreats from his plant. He knows exactly where he should be watching and before you know it he has the kill.

"Amazing stuff guys, apart from you Lando" you joke making him scoff and start to throw insults your way.

"Ah ah ah! Now i wouldn't ever dare criticize your driving now would I Lando! Lets stick to our professions yeah?" you tease him, he however changes conversation saying he was going to start streaming.

"You want me to end and raid you?" you ask, and he agrees greedily smiling. You guys had been playing for around 2 and a half hours so you didn't mind ending now.

You played for some more hours, people got very excited when they saw that Lando specifically started streaming. And now they could see the way he'd blush whenever you teased him or flirted, which wasn't even really flirting ... but chat deemed you to just have this natural rizz. They could see his reactions whenever Logan, Oscar or Liam would make fun off him.

His chat was going crazy, asking if he liked you and if you'd met.

"Me and Y/N have met chat" he offers and everyone goes silent. The others didn't know you guys had actually met up, they just knew Lando slung you a DM and somehow you replied and gave him your discord.

"You guys don't believe me?" he asks in shock, reading chat every time a round ends or when he dies.

"Even you Max what the hell" he cries when he see's Max type a snide comment in chat about how there's no way in hell you would have met up with him.

"Fine, you guys don't believe me! Here!" he says shoving his phone up the camera showing the selfie he had taken in a cafe the day you guys first met.

"Where did we meet. In London, I dm'ed her on Instagram and asked to meet her. I wanna do new things with Quadrant and further the e-sports that we do here so i reached out to Y/N as a friend to see how her org did stuff" he explains.

"Y/N to Quadrant? I dunno guys, she's happy in Fnatic right now and unless we got other players that were on a professional level, i don't think she'd give up such a good spot where she's in a winning team for people who arent even on a professional level right now!" he explains before unmuting himself again.

"So, everyone's saying you should come to a race!" Lando offers Y/N.

"I'll come to a race if you guys all come watch me at VCT?!" she questions and they all agree.

"Deal!"

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo

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icallhimjoey · 10 months

Note

Love love love your writing! I’d be so interested to see your take on a friends to lover situation where the reader and Joe are good friends and the reader constantly gets the ick so Joe sets a challenge at a party (thinking Italian summer party) for her to find someone who doesn’t give them the ick.

And she realises that Joe is the only one that has no icks 👀

okay so ive had an INTERESTING (read: 18+, v spicy) suggestion from werepartnersnow who, by the way, claims she doesn't read rpf but then found herself in my inbox asking for very specific filth 👀👀👀 but, anyway, it was good filth, and i was trying to find a way to tackle her request, and then this request really brought it all together for me, so, THANK YOU! here we GO sluts! Wordcount: 3.9K

---

Double Or Nothing

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Did Joe say he was coming?”

“Yea, I’m surprised he’s not been spotted yet,”

Heads craned back, and you grumbled into your beer. Conversation had been flowing so nicely, and now, suddenly, everyone had to look at the pub entrance to check if there was any sign of Joe yet.

Like he was the guest of honour missing still.

Like the night hadn’t started properly yet, because Joe wasn’t there.

Ugh.

Now… listen...

By no means did you dislike Joe. He was your friend just as well as he was all of theirs. It was just that, Joe had seemingly become a lot more interesting to a lot more people in a very short amount of time. Even some of your friends sort of… fell for the sudden hype that surrounded him. Wanted it proven to the outside world that they were friends with Joe. That they knew him. Were part of his group.

And you kind of got it, or... at least a little.

Joe got to do very cool and exciting things, met very cool and exciting people, and he'd bring anyone who had the time to join. Any time he'd drop a message with the question 'who's got time off for these dates' it was really a first come, first served sort of deal.

So it kind of made sense that people wanted in with Joe. However, he couldn't pay you enough to sit next to him for a full day, or several, as he passed out autographs like boring assembly line work. To see people fawn over him. Tell him how amazing they all think he is...

Because Joe was… he was just Joe.

There was a lull in conversation, and you felt the need to remind everyone of the time Joe spent a full night ordering drinks for everyone before dipping out and leaving the last people with the bill.

He paid for his own share later, but, still. That was a shitty move.

Or when Imogen and Lawrence had gotten married, and he thought it was okay to help himself to a piece of cake before they'd done the ceremonious cutting of it.

Or when he'd invited everyone over to a party at someone's house without informing the host he was bringing seven other people. That night you'd just stood around awkwardly, all of you, knowing you weren't welcome and afraid to have any of the drinks for fear of them running out.

It felt healthy to remind everyone that Joe was just your shit friend. This guy who they’d known forever and who they also sometimes didn’t like. Because he could be a bit of a boring loser, who’d cancel on events last minute. One that you liked - he was still your friend, supported you when you needed support, made you laugh when you needed cheering up and was just... overall was a fun guy to hang out with. Despite all the shitty things.

Joe knew this is how you felt, and, not that you'd asked, but if you would have, he'd easily agree with you. Would just smile as you glared at him for forgetting someone's birthday and then pretending a gift someone else had bought was from him too.

And he got away with shit like that every single time because of that stupid smile. All charming, all endearing.

All handsome, and shit.

You felt a nudge to your knee under the table after you'd rolled your eyes at everyone looking around to find Joe. You were given a brief smirk by one of your friends before eyes turned away from you and you frowned. Idiot.

You knew what was insinuated there, and didn’t appreciate it.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been very adamant and obvious about not being impressed with Joe, and people took it to mean something else. Like you were overdoing it to hide your real feelings.

You weren’t overdoing anything, though, and you wanted to say something, wanted to argue and bite back at that stupid smug look you got, but you noticed the eyes of the people on the other side of the table focus on something over your head.

You jumped, tensed up with shock, when someone suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders. It nearly knocked over every drink on the table as your knees shot up and banged the underside of it.

“Jesus,”

“No, just me,” Joe joked, and he got heys and hellos and big smiles and even a drink handed over that someone had gotten him before he’d even arrived, and oh my fucking God, you needed more celebrities in your group because this was getting a little ridiculous.

You composed yourself fast, recollected yourself and tried your hardest to push down the blush that had crept onto your face.

Like you’d predicted, the second Joe joined the group, you suddenly all became his entourage.

Now you were all Joe's friends.

You weren’t, but, that’s what it felt like.

To Joe’s credit, he didn’t really act any different – he was still his quiet, normal self. Kind of dull, nothing crazy, just there for a laugh, comfortable with the spotlight being off of him for a little bit. That was nice, and you appreciated that.

It was just that your other friends were big dumb idiots. Not all of them, but, enough of them for it to bother you a little.

Although, Joe had changed his hair... so, he'd changed a little since Hollywood had come a-knocking.

It was all fine, though. The conversation automatically sort of continued from where it left of before Joe joined and the small bit of annoyance you felt before quickly disappeared.

You paid close attention to not paying close attention to Joe.

It wasn’t until Joe cheersed his glass with your half empty one to catch your attention that the irritation you'd felt before crept back in a little.

Not because of the focus landing on you, but because of the question he asked.

Not how are you. Not how’ve you been. But, “No David?”

You gave a little sarcastic smile, tilted your head down to look at him through your eyelashes and confirmed, “No David.”

Apparently that was enough for other people to comment on the matter as well.

“Yea, how’s that going?”

“Are you still seeing each other?”

You took too long to answer either question, and when you look a slow sip of your drink to give yourself more time to think of how you were going to frame this, you could see one of your friends groan. The lack of information said plenty.

“Oh no, here we go again,”

“Should’ve known it,”

“Did you dump him already?”

The whole table seemed to feel the same way about you and David not hanging out together anymore. Made sense though, David was the first guy in a good while you'd taken along to meet some of them. Before David, there'd just been a lot of first dates that only sometimes graduated into a second, and then, usually, contact would sort of... fizzle out.

“I didn’t dump him– there was no dumping to be done, we weren’t dating,”

You got a few scoffs.

“What was it this time?”

And, okay, so, your track record wasn't great by any means. It's just that... you were very easy to turn off, you guessed. And once you found something about someone that got under your skin, you couldn't not see it. You couldn't not hyper-focus on it, and you knew that from that moment on, whatever you and whichever guy had together was doomed to fail.

“Just... we didn't really match each other,”

That was the polite, vague way of putting it. You looked at your drink as you said it but felt Joe's eyes stare you down. It burned your cheeks a bit.

“No, be honest,” Izzy said, speaking to you as if you were a toddler before she went for a sip of her drink.

“What? That's essentially exactly why he's not here right now,”

Izzy scoffed, and you silently cursed your best friend. She was going to make you say it. The thing you told her in private. You took a mental note to never be honest with her again.

“Can I tell them the story, or are you going to do it yourself? I'd love to be the one to share it,” she sat up and leant in. Ready.

The eyes of your friends moved between her and you, like they were watching a tennis match, absolutely not sure where this was going, but very exciting to see where it was going to go.

“Well, it wasn't one specific thing,” you started, and foolishly, left too long a silence after. Izzy filled it immediately, because it very much was one specific thing and she couldn't keep the knowledge inside any longer.

“Bad sex.”

It got some hearty laughs from the group, and when you looked at Joe, you caught his narrowed eyes. He looked a bit hesitant, small smile playing his lips as he hovered his glass in front of his mouth, like was about to take a sip, but couldn't because he had to see how you were going to react to Izzy.

“Okay, no,” you fought. “It wasn't bad sex... not, like, not overall, anyway, it wasn't... it wasn't the worst by any means,” you stumbled through your words and it made Izzy shoot up her eyebrows.

“Oh, are we doing specifics?”

You groaned and saw Joe perk up a little from the corner of your eye.

Fuck.

“Absolutely not, that's not... that's not fair on David,”

What you meant was, let's not talk about my sex life in detail in the middle of this pub, thanks very much. But Izzy didn't care though. She hadn't listened to you faking your orgasms through her bedroom wall for a few weeks for fucking nothing.

“What did he claim to be good at?”

“Isabella...” using her full name did nothing, unfortunately.

“He'd boast about it so much, even I started getting a little jealous,”

“I'm going to get another drink,”

Escaping seemed a good idea. Izzy could just talk about the things she'd heard David say to you in the other room without you there. But you were kind of closed in. Couldn't just get up and make your way over to the bar without people having to move out of your way for it.

“What was it?” Joe asked carefully, voice not too loud, the question definitely only aimed for you to hear. Curious. Not that he was being any kinder towards you than any of your other friends were – you could see that cheeky smile, could see how he was ready to let laughter escape him. Plus, everyone heard him anyway.

You saw your friend open her mouth, ready to answer for you.

“Izzy, don't,” you raised a finger, and you silently cursed at yourself for not being able to keep a straight face anymore.

She was going to say it.

“Head.”

Someone snorted into their beer which splashed into their face and that made people laugh more than what Izzy'd said, but now, that information was out there. It made you slump down into your seat so far, you were practically under the table.

“You told him to fuck off for eating you out wrong? Am I hearing this right?” one of your friends asked, not even judgmentally, but more to coax you out of your hiding spot.

It worked.

“Okay, so, listen,” you sat up, ready to justify your actions. You weren't a horrible person, and you needed people to agree. “If you claim to be amazing at something like that, I would kind of expect you to then also... you know, actually know... where things, are?”

You looked around, read your friend's faces and most of them knew exactly what you meant. Didn't need to use the actual words to describe in detail what David couldn't locate.

Izzy read your friend's faces different, though. Thought they did need clarification, and she was an accommodating friend. Wanted to help out. Also enjoyed embarrassing you a little too much, the bitch.

“Kept licking her leg, sucked on everything but her clit,”

“Oh my G–” you hid your face with both your hands, elbows perched on the table.

“David, David, David,” Joe shook his head, tutted at you, seemed to feel genuinely sorry for the guy.

“To be fair, it's a good reason to stop seeing someone,” someone else said, and you quipped a quick thank you. The comment prompted people to go over all of the other reasons you'd turned men down before, and the list was... extensive, to say the least.

Chewed on his food with his mouth open. Dressed like he was colourblind. Was into weird experimental music that really got under your skin. Bit down on his fork when he ate. Held his phone only an inch away from his face when he used it. Kissed with his eyes wide open like a psychopath. Ran after a beerpong ball in a half-crouch and failed in his attempts to grab it as it bounced. Puns.

Every ick came with it's own backstory and you were shocked by how much your friends remembered - you'd forgotten half the things they were bringing up, reminiscing about the batch of men that you'd turned down for reasons they all deemed ridiculous. It was a lot of laughing at your expense. It was a good thing you were a good sport and that you genuinely liked your friends, so you just laughed along. Knew they all would've probably gotten annoyed by the same things you had. You know, eventually.

It wasn't until someone looked around and said, “There's got to be at least one person in here who doesn't scare her off immediately,” and no, no, no, no. You didn't need your friends actually getting involved in you meeting men.

Not tonight, anyway.

But heads started turning and eyes started scoping out the place, gliding across and lingering on men that maybe stood a chance.

You checked and saw that Joe didn't join in. He was looking down below the table, seemingly to check what his feet were touching, or something along those lines, anyway.

It could be a way to opt out of the game that your friends engaged in mostly to just make fun of you. It could also be that his attention span was too short and he was bored. Both options were awful. The fact that you even looked at him to check was awful in and of itself.

You were no better than your friends.

“Okay, enough,” you held up a hand, elbow in the middle of the table whilst you squeezed your eyes shut. “If you're going to make me look at people and come up with an ick, we'll be here all night. I could even go over all of you and think of several icks for each of you, so let's not,” you laughed, hoping it'd put an end to it.

It did the exact opposite.

“Not for me!” one friend argued, and the whole table laughed. Everyone could easily name multiple things, and so it kicked off.

You all went around the table, named things about each other that would drive you mad if you were to date them. It ranged from obvious things like snoring and working too much, to more niche things, like how someone would continuously pronounce a word wrong whilst insisting that they were right (they weren't) and someone else not wearing socks in certain pairs of shoes (gross).

You were the deciding factor each time. If you agreed with what someone said, there was no more arguing and you'd move on to the next person.

Until you reached Joe.

“Let's go, give me all you've got,” Joe beckoned with both hands, welcoming the criticism like a trooper. It was all innocent fun, after all.

And your friends would name things. All sorts. How he sometimes wouldn't reply to texts for days, leaving people on read for ages. How he'd cancel on people by saying wild shit like, “Oops, sorry, can't make it tonight, I'm in Tokyo rn”. The fact that he'd always hold up the last cigarette from a packet and say, “This is the last one, I'm quitting after this,” and then he'd just as easily buy another packet straight after.

But an unsettling realisation dawned on you.

You silently, almost automatically, dismissed everything that your friends mentioned, that got them laughing and got Joe to jokingly gasp and pretend offense to because... none of it turned you off per se.

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him.

Oh no.

You had to be able to come up with something...

“She fucking hates smokers anyway,” Izzy commented.

“Yea... usually, I do,”

Joe looked at you and raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“I don't know...”

Wide eyes looked at each other across the table, and Izzy couldn't fucking believe what she was hearing.

“That doesn't bother you?”

You laughed and gave your friend a panicked look, “It should! But... somehow it doesn't?”

You got a nudge of a knee under the table again and knew exactly what it meant. You pretended you hadn't felt it. That felt safer.

People started repeating things, waiting for you to go, “Ugh yes,” but you didn't, for none of it, and you thought of lying. Of just pretending that something did, but learning that none of Joe's personality traits actually rubbed you wrong was just as shocking to you as it was to everyone else.

Joe even joined in himself, said, “I'm always fidgetting!” but it did the fucking opposite. Made you look at his hands and notice how nice they were.

Shit.

“Is Joe ick-less?” a pair of astonished eyes asked you, and you couldn't fucking believe yourself when you slowly nodded, lips pressed together impossibly tight.

Joe was ick-less... what the actual fuck?!

“Uh oh,”

“We've found the one, guys! Game over!”

“So, when's the wedding?”

You scoffed. Loudly. Your friends were confirming they were big dumb idiots, you didn't even have to do any convincing of it yourself.

“Nah,” Joe said, and when you looked at him, you grew immediately shy. The little smirk and the mischievous eyes threatened trouble. “I can break her...”

Oh, fuck. The air between the two of you sparkled as your friends oohed, all eyes moving back and forth between the two of you. Even Izzy seemed intrigued.

“One week to give her the ick,” someone suggested.

“Easy,” Joe boasted, not breaking eye-contact.

“Why would you care abou–” you started, but were cut off by Joe who's smile got wider by the second as he challenged you, “And if I win?”

Despite the fact that his eyes were on you, the question was directed at your other friends. When they didn't answer, Joe turned to them, “What are we playing for?”

This... this wasn't happening.

“If you lose, she deserves some good head,” Izzy quipped, and you could've murdered her right then and there. Could've broken a glass on the edge of a table to slit her throat with, because what the fuck was that?

“Three days of head,”

“I said good head,”

“Guys, stop!” you tried, but you might as well not have been there.

“And if you win, she'll return the favour,”

“What?! Oh my God, fuck off, we're not doing this,” you waved both hands in a line, signaling that this was enough now. The joke was over. You weren't laughing.

“Three favours then,” someone else proposed.

“Like that's going to make a difference, he'll just ask for three days of head,”

“No, he'll make her his PA, for a con, or whatever,”

“Ooh, good one!”

“Yea, I'm not falling for that again,”

Joe snorted as your friends debated about a bet that definitely wasn't going to happen. You weren't going to shake on this, no matter how badly they wanted this free bit of entertainment for themselves.

“Okay,” Izzy said, smacking the table with a flat palm, shutting everyone up.

“Joe is going give you the ick within a week. If he does, you'll owe him three favours and if he doesn't, you'll be getting from Joe what you haven't gotten from David,”

“What if she lies?”

“She's a terrible liar, I see right through her,”

And Izzy did. Had always been able to.

“Jesus Christ, you're a bunch of delusional losers,” you laughed.

There was going to have to be a moment where Joe would side with you and you'd swipe the whole ordeal off the table together. At least, that's what you expected.

You expected wrong.

Instead of Joe telling your friends to leave you alone, to be sensible and kind, because you hadn't even gotten good sex in a little while, poor puppy... instead of all of that, you noticed how he waited for the commotion at the table to quiet down a little before he said, “Double or nothing.”

“What?”

“Double or nothing. One week of head,”

“Izzy said good hea-,”

“One week of good head, or one week of favours,”

You frowned slightly at him, dumbfounded that Joe seemed to be going with all of this.

He was actually going along with it.

Were you going to want to let Joe go down on you?

Wait.

You wrecked your brain and tried to think of everything that someone had ever done to you that had turned you off immediately. Would those same things be awful of Joe did them?

Probably not. But... maybe.

Shit, you kind of wouldn't mind a full week of Joe going down on you. Making you come on his mouth. It'd be weird, sure, but also, when was the last time someone made you orgasm with just their mouth?

Jesus, what a wild conclusion - you had no idea that Joe confused you this much. If anything, you'd learnt something about yourself today that you honestly never thought was something you were ever going to have to think about.

So the question maybe wasn't, would you let Joe go down on you... The question was, would you let Joe drag you along to be his personal assistant for a week? Because that was most definitely what he was going to ask of you. You had no interest in tagging along to watch someone do their job, and everyone knew this about you.

Fuck, were you... were you considering doing this?

Joe felt the second of hesitation and held his pinky out, hoping he'd get you to link yours with his before that window closed.

Your eyes glanced at Izzy, who somehow looked bored and giddy at the same time.

Should you do it? Joe's pinky flexed and he questioningly raised his eyebrows at you, a small smile playing underneath.

Just for shits and giggles?

What came out of your mouth next was so quiet, it was barely audible in the loud ambiance of the pub.

“Fine.”

But it was okay, people didn't need to be able to hear you. Because it was embarrassing, but also, because what happened next was one of your arms, moving from where it cupped your own face to half way across the table. Your pinky finger met Joe's and they linked.

“Deal.”

Joe's stupid face broke into a huge grin that made you instantly regret agreeing, but his pinky was stronger than yours and held you in its grip as he repeated your words back to you.

“Fine. Deal.”

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @frootvelvet @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @harringtonfan4 @emma77645 @tlclick73 @eddies-puppet @electricmunson @everythinghasafacee @a-time-for-wolvess @lucifers-side @barfightzanddiscolightz

(taglist currently full, sorry!)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #18+#Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #requested #double or nothing

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professional-yapper · 3 months

Text

Proximity

Neteyam x Olangi! Reader

Warnings: angst, arranged marriage, reader's sheltered asf and is low-key very awkward and blunt as a result, reader's direhorse dies, Neteyam gets insulted within five seconds of meeting them, slowburn I think, neteyam getting misnamed repeatedly

(nobody ask me about the accuracy of anything)

Neteyam was to be mated to you, the child of the olo’eyktan of the Olangi clan—the nomadic clan of the plains, direhorse riders.

To put it simply, he was nervous. His hands were gripping the edge of his loincloth so tightly he worried vaguely that it might tear. His mother kept sending him worried looks, and his father—Toruk Makto—had his hand on Neteyam’s shoulder, keeping him walking towards the Olangi camp like Neteyam would try to run away.

Since the Olangi were a nomadic people, his father had to plan everything out perfectly so that they would not come when the Olangi had already moved on. It had caused his father a lot of stress, Neteyam knew, but as they approached the camp, his father’s tight grip relaxed.

They'd taken their ikrans most of the way, but his father had made them the last little bit, saying the last time he'd sought out the Olangi his winged mount had startled their direhorses quite a bit, and he didn't intend to repeat the accident.

The camp was made up of simple cloth tents- animal skins, maybe, stretched over wooden poles whittled down to gleaming off-white.

The area was alive with children of all ages running around outside and playing, little squeals and shrieks snatched away by the warm evening breeze.

Cooking fires dotted the ground like red stars, adults and older children tending bubbling pots, haunches of meat skewered and turning slowly.

And, of course, direhorses tied up to the tents themselves, cropping grass peacefully, whickering to one another every so often.

It was nice. Calm. The grass, golden with summer dryness, rasped against Neteyam's calves as he walked. The air was heady with the smell of herbs and animals- not entirely unpleasant, he noted.

As they reached the outskirts of the camp, a small group approached them, the olo’eyktan at the head. He was tall, taller than Neteyam's father, with a bone piercing through his nose. The rest of the group was composed of a shorter woman with long, dangling bone earrings who Neteyam guessed was the tsahik; three near-identical young men, probably your brothers, all the same height as the olo’eyktan and therefore they towered over Neteyam, even from a distance; and a young person painted in rich, earthy colours, decorated with bone jewelry. The olo’eyktan’s youngest. You.

Neteyam’s future mate.

His father and the olo’eyktan both performed the usual greeting, and Neteyam was prodded forward to do the same. Tuk, Kiri, Lo’ak and their mother remain behind Neteyam and their father, but he can feel their support wholeheartedly, warm and constant.

At least, the support of Tuk and his mother. Kiri is less than pleased with the union, but then again, she is rarely pleased with anything. She says it's barbaric, the arrangement of a mating between two people who have never met.

Lo'ak just despises that Neteyam's new mate will take up his time, time that Lo'ak thinks should be spent on more entertaining things. Like disobeying their parents and whatnot.

You returned the gesture, and Neteyam realised with a little spark of sick fear that this was it. You would return home with him and his family, and you would be his mate. You would be together forever, in the eyes of Eywa.

He couldn't even begin to imagine how that would go. Your expression was blank, devoid of any emotion that could possibly clue him in to how you were feeling.

Your eyes, outlined boldly in red, flicked over him, and he felt oddly naked beneath them.

Then you made a face that was somehow both confused and disbelieving. “How do you climb with those legs, or even keep your balance with that tail?” you asked him, voice cutting through the serene silence.

One of your brothers muffled a snort, earning a sharp elbow from one of the other two.

“Parultsyìp!” the tsahik, your mother said, scandalised. Lo’ak stiffens beside Neteyam, and Neteyam knows his brother well enough to know that a rude retort is on the tip of Lo’ak’s tongue.

You wince at your mother's cry, ears flattening against your head in childish irritation.

Of course, you hadn't intended to be rude. Why would you? You weren't stupid, you knew you had to make this work or you would be miserable for the rest of your life.

But you had never seen Omaticaya before. You'd grown up on tales of Toruk Makto, of course, the sky demon with the skin of any average Omatikayan man, who'd come from a star and saved the Omaticaya- sort of, your older brother Kalzi had whispered to you afterwards, just giving you one of his annoying, knowing smiles when you had asked him what he meant.

You hadn't even been born when Toruk Makto came to your tribe, seeking their help.

But Toruk Makto was your childhood hero. Big and strong and smart and... Oh, everything in between.

You had imagined the Omaticaya to look something like you, of course. Strong limbs, hard with muscle from an early age. Though, of course, their muscle would be born from climbing trees and whatnot, rather than wrangling and spending days on the back of a direhorse.

Thick tails, for balance- though, again, theirs would be needed for balance when high up as opposed to when riding.

Not that you had spent much time thinking on the appearance of a tribe you had never seen in your life. It, stupid though it seemed now, had just been something you'd pondered once and accepted ever since.

Yes, now it seemed incredibly stupid, as you stood there staring at your future mate, whose name you didn't even know. Neteyam, you think your mother has told you.

And, of course, your mouth had gotten ahead of you and voiced your confusion and disbelief before you could stop yourself.

Your future mate (Neteyam?) stared back, expression carefully calm.

His little brother didn't seem so inclined, however, and was giving you a glare strong enough to burst your head like an overripe fruit.

"Apologise," your father said firmly, his hand coming down on the back of your neck. Hard.

"Oh, there's no need-" Toruk Makto began awkwardly, waving a hand in dismissal. "They didn't mean it badly."

Your father made you apologise anyway.

You weren't a kid anymore, but you sure as hell felt like one as you forced out the most sincere apology you could muster, still staring at Neteyam in disbelief, eyes roving over every inch of his abnormal body.

To his credit, Neteyam accepted your apology graciously, carefully avoiding meeting your eyes again.

"Well," your older brother Zütxu said cheerfully, clapping his hands. "This has been sufficiently awkward. Join us for dinner? It's the least we can do, since you've come all this way. My idea was to put them on their direhorse and send them on their way and be done with them, but-"

"Zütxu!" your mother said, clutching at her nonexistent pearls for a second time. "Must all my children make disgraces of themselves?! Great Mother."

"We'd love to join you for dinner," Toruk Makto cut in smoothly, ushering his family forward.

Lo’ak is still annoyed with your earlier insult. Neteyam can feel his younger brother bristling at his side, but he simply nudges Lo’ak. “You cannot blame them for being confused. They have never seen Omaticaya before,” he murmurs.

“You don't know that!” Lo’ak hissed in response. “They were being a jerk!”

“Ao’nung was the same way, remember?” Neteyam reminds his brother. “But he is a good friend now. They will not be like that always.”

“You have too much faith,” Lo’ak grumbled, before squinting up at his brother. “It’s because they're attractive, isn’t it?”

Neteyam just scoffs and smacks Lo’ak upside the head.

A few minutes later, they are seated around a bonfire with the rest of the Olangi clan, everyone eating and talking happily. Neteyam finds himself seated next to you, as he expected.

You are silent, the fire reflecting in your eyes, in your glistening body paint, in a way Neteyam cannot help but stare at.

Then your eyes flick to him, glancing over his face momentarily, before they drop back down to the food before you. "I am sorry, even if I don't seem it," you say after a moment. "It was stupid of me to make assumptions. And... even more stupid of me to act like you should've fulfilled expectations you weren't even aware of."

"It's fine," Neteyam shrugged. "I'm not upset or anything. I guess it's justified. I didn't know what you were going to look like either."

You nod. A few moments pass as you pick at your food before you speak again. "I thought you would look more like me." You take a minute to explain your theory to him, flushing as you do.

Neteyam laughs, the beads in his braids clicking against one another as he moves, his eyes glittering in the firelight also. He tilts his head, shifting a little closer to you. "May I?" he asked, reaching for your arm.

You nodded, holding it out for him to take, confusion written in your face.

Neteyam grips your arm gently, feeling the corded muscles within. "Omaticaya are not so bulky," he said carefully. He didn't want to upset you in some way. Of course, you'd already insulted him, but you'd apologised and he could see you hadn't meant it in such a harsh way. "In the forest, we have no need for it."

You nod, touching his own arm with your free hand, noting how you can wrap your hand around it entirely. "We ride before we can walk," you say, taking his hand and pressing his fingers into the top of your thigh so he can feel for himself. "Our leg muscles develop first. From riding and also hunting on foot. Then our arms, from handling direhorses and whatnot. Our core muscles too. Mama says we developed thicker bodies to accommodate the strength we need for our lifestyle."

Neteyam nods, feeling the hard muscle beneath your dusty blue skin, though he's careful not to let his curiosity cross any boundaries. He can feel his ears angling forwards to catch your words as you speak quietly, the rattle of the off-white beads in your own hair, his skin tingling with warmth as you wrap your hand around his arm.

He has hopes for this union after all.

This is deffo going to have a part two lol. Reader is also pretty much an Aonung variant I realise now. Idk if any of what I said about the Olangi is canonical it's all what makes sense to me. Please please tell me your thoughts!!! 🫶

Part two >

#avatar #aonung #avatar x reader #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #loak #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam atwow #jake sully #neytiri #kiri #tuk #tuktirey

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scoobysnakz · 4 months

Note

heyy girl i think if u haven’t what abt u write a dbf miguel x reader ik i see so many but theyre so gd to read they get me so invested every time🤷🏽‍♀️

summary: you’ve just come home from college for christmas but there’s a stranger in your bedroom

a/n: dbf as in dads best friend or dad boy friend? 😭 i’d do either but for this i’ll do dads best friend bc… yh. also tysm for the request it means sm 😚😚😚 also I guess this is a fic now? Bc I kinda hate one shots bci can never cut down on lore and stuff.

❤️

You hadn’t realised how easily college had managed to seep its way into every aspect of your life, pulling you away from both your family and social life, until you came home for Christmas.

Everyone looks so different, your mum is more colourful and chirpy, your father is healthier and your brother is surprisingly mature. But what takes you most by surprise is the lack of silence that has taken them by storm. When you had come home for the summer most of your stay had been filled with an uncomfortable but unfortunately familiar silence following you around but now, you can’t shut them up.

The entirety of the drive home from the train station is full of chatter, and for once they include you. They seem so genuinely invested about you that you don't even question the randomness of their questions, ranging from the journey home and the local shops that surround your campus.

“I heard that there's one of those pretentious, hipster coffee places nearby,” your dad claims from the driver's seat, not bothering to look around at you.

“Vegan?” you offer dryly, unsure of it he knows you work there or not.

“That's it!” he clicks proudly, resulting in both you and your brother sharing a sigh.

Part of you hopes that it’s because of you; that maybe they realised how much they loved you while you were gone and now feel overjoyed at your return. There’s a feeling of doubt floating around in your mind, telling you that this is just a random occurrence, but you push it to the side, wanting to focus on the positive and unrealistic.

***

Your brother helps you lug your suitcase into the house claiming, ‘It’s the least I can do’ which is surreal coming from someone who hasn’t written to you the entirety of your time away. You hand him your antler clifton all the same, glad you didn't have to carry it across the drive as well as up the stairs.

The warmth from the house welcomes you in, the softness of the heated air a stark difference from the harsh bitterness from outside. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread candles lures you in so soothingly that you don't even notice the extra pair of shoes neatly paired together with the rest by the front door.

“I'll leave it here,” your brother mutters before sliding across the floorboards towards the living room on the heels of his feet- not as mature as you presumed. You smile half-heartedly with a small nod, jealous of how easily he can dismiss himself.

And suddenly you’re alone again, left to your own devices as your parents go start dinner and your brother now yelling into his mic from the living room. It hurts slightly, moments ago they were all over you, so invested in you and your life that you forgot what they're truly like. It's the way it always been and you're a fool for thinking otherwise.

You scold yourself for being so naive as to believe that they'd changed, that they weren't as self-absorbed as they used to be, before pulling yourself away from your sea of negative thoughts.

You stare at your suitcase, bright white light shining on it from the lamp hanging above your head, and decide to leave it there, too tired to carry it upstairs to your room.

The steps creak under your weight as you slouch up the stairs, one hand idly dragging across the chipped bannister. You can't count how many times your dad’s tried to repaint it, how much money he's spent on overpriced glosses and varnishes, how many hours he's spent sanding the thing down.

As you cross the landing, thick carpet dampening the sound of your steps, you the bathroom door left ajar and the soft heat emanating from it. Which is… weird because both your parents and your brother are downstairs. But you shrug it off, too fed up to care, and drag yourself over to your bedroom, head drooping downwards with fatigue.

Casually, you push your door open, expecting the room to be empty and your bed freshly made as it often is when you come home for the holidays. Except it isn't.

Soft jazz music hums throughout the room, playing from a speaker you can't quite place, and the smell of an intoxicatingly strong aftershave clings to the air. Your walls are still decorated with the wallpaper you had when you left but it's covered in various posters. Some are boring and presumably scientific based on the array of symbols, whereas others are insanely niche but you don't really put too much effort into trying to understand them- you're too distracted by the man standing in the middle of your room, half naked and dripping with water.

He's tall, intimidatingly so, but the soft dimples that form in his cheeks as he smiles down at you soothe your nerves- slightly.

“Hey,” he grins down at you, head now cocked to the side and pats his ear causing water droplets to drip onto your carpeted floor.

You blink at him, completely dumbstruck and unsure of what to do. “What the fuck?” you breathe shakily, palms clamming up as your brain desperately flickers between arousal and fear.

The man’s brow furrows at your anxious tone and his smile falters slightly. “I think I should be the one cursing here,” he jests, tone annoyingly light, “you’ve just walked into my room without knocking or anything.”

“You're room?” you scoff, arms folding across your chest. “You're the stranger here, not me.”

He grins at your attitude, those dimples presenting themselves again. “I’m offended, has it been that long since you've last seen me?” he questions, large hand splayed across his chest feigning offence.

You pause for a moment and let your gaze scan him for a moment. He looks familiar, dark slicked back hair and mahogany eyes that are simultaneously scrutinizing and sympathetic.

“A la mierda, querida, have you really forgotten me?” he teases.

And then it clicks. You feel so embarrassed now, for not recognising him. Miguel, your dad’s best friend who you haven't seen for years, is finally visiting again.

He does look different now, though. He's still tall and his face is as chiselled as ever, though there are creases in his skin from when he's smiled too often or squinted too hard at the sun, but he's bulked up a considerable amount. His biceps look bigger than your thighs, tensing and relaxing with every slight movement and shining with the shower water in the yellow light of the evening sun. In fact, his entire body is covered in muscles, and what you can see of his lower half is toned, covered in dark tufts of hair, yes, but the curvature of each muscle is still visible.

He clears his throat and you realise that you’ve been staring longer than intended, shame burning hot on your neck.

“Sorry,” you mutter, “about not recognising you.”

He shrugs off your apology, which irks you slightly but you push past it, and smile once again. “I look different, old age is catching up on me.”

That's definitely what's different.

> next

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel au #dilf miguel #older Miguel

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my-castles-crumbling · 5 months

Text

diagon alley - @wolfstarmicrofic - Word count: 299

It had been far too long.

Two and a half months for summer?

How had he ever thought that was a good thing?

Granted, they'd seen each other at the Potters' halfway through July. They'd spent that one blissful week camping out by the beach, setting campfires and roasting s'mores, ignoring the way James and Pete poked fun at the way they (probably obnoxiously) never let go of each other.

But it had been over a month, now, and he was sick of only letters. Only relying on his memories to fill the Sirius-sized hole in his chest.

He realized that Sirius probably didn't miss him near as much. Indeed, the shorter boy was living with the Potters and wrote often about the mischief he and James got up to. Though it was nice to know Sirius was so happy and safe, he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. He wanted more than anything to be there, too.

So when they were able to arrange to meet in Diagon Alley to do their shopping together, Remus began counting down the days. The hours, really, but nobody needed to know that.

And when the day came, he spotted Sirius from clear across the pub, and all of his breath escaped from his body. Not for the first time, he wondered how he'd gotten so damn lucky.

But then Sirius's face broke out into the most beautiful grin, and he began running- actually running, almost tripping over himself- to get to Remus. And something overwhelmingly soft and warm and lovely settled in Remus's chest as he caught Sirius in his arms.

"I missed you," the shorter boy mumbled into Remus's shoulder, tucking his head down as Remus wrapped his arms around him firmly.

"I missed you, too, baby," he whispered.

Remus Lupin is just as needy as Sirius Black, pass it on.

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malk1ns · 5 months

Note

A prompt if this sings to you... established relationship mid-30s sidgeno taking in a rookie to live with them? Maybe a Russian? Maybe not! Maybe it's ABO and the baby alpha is overwhelmed by milfy Sid/baby omega is overwhelmed by dilfy Geno? Maybe not! IDK I just want to see an awkward 18 year old being completely rabbit in the headlights witnessing these two icons and heroes being dorky and frisky and middle-aged at home.

Ooooh I love this!

This isn't my best work, but I haven't written in ages and I'm rusty, so—you get what you get, haha. But this is such a fun concept and I had a lot of fun thinking about it!!! That's part of why it's so disjointed I think, I had so many ideas about how this could look and what it could involve and I wanted to cram everything in. Maybe I'll revisit this when I can actually properly use the English language again and clean it up!

Mack doesn't get a choice about where he lives his rookie year.

Not a lot of guys do, really—if they're bouncing between the A and the big club, they get real familiar with a few specific hotels, and if they make the show right away the team usually encourages them to look for something in a particular neighborhood—but Mack, after the excitement of the draft was over and the contract negotiations began in earnest, didn't even get that much leeway.

He's a first overall pick. He's an omega. He was drafted by the Pittsburgh Penguins. Of course he'll be living with Sidney Crosby and his mate.

Crosby—call me Sid he'd said, backstage after Mack stumbled his way onstage and held up his jersey and smiled so hard his face hurt—sends him and his parents an email in late summer, offering up a suite in his house in one of Pittsburgh's suburbs. He'll have a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living area to himself, along with a small fridge, and Sid says he'll help Mack get a car, too, if he doesn't already have one.

Mack's agent is copied on the email, along with four names from the Penguins organization that Mack doesn't recognize. It's not really an offer, after all.

Mack's parents are overjoyed. They're both betas, and when Mack presented his mom had practically lost her mind trying to figure out how to parent him appropriately, and they'd both been desperately worried about him living on his own. As if that had been an option; every interview at the combine included some discussion about where he'd stay, and it seemed like every team had a plan, no input from Mack required.

His dad's more focused on what he'll get out of living with Hall of Famers. "Watch how they spend their time off," he says to Mack as they're standing at Pittsburgh International. They'd all driven down in Mack's new car together, and spent the last two days getting him settled in and seeing the sights, and now his parents are flying back to Vancouver. "You're never going to have a better example than Malkin and Crosby. Pay attention to them, and you'll be fine."

Mack's not sure that this is quite what his parents had in mind.

Sid's amazing, of course. He knows what it's like to be an omega in the league—for all there are more now than when Sid was drafted, they're still an extreme minority, and going first overall, over all the alphas eligible, has only happened twice. Well, three times now. He walks Mack through the accommodations at the rink, connects him with the dynamics counselors and heat coordinators, and he spends a lot of time just listening to Mack, sharing his own experiences and talking him through his panic and nerves. Mack's lucky, and all the guys from BU are jealous as hell, constantly blowing up the GC with questions that Mack's not gonna answer in a million years.

Geno, though?

Mack's been around alphas his whole life. Sports at a higher level are riddled with them, obviously, and omegas aren't cloistered away anymore—he's not required to cross the street if he approaches an alpha, and North America has been totally integrated for decades.

There's getting in board battles with alphas his own age, though, or interacting with random people out in the world, and living with an alpha in his 30s, in the space he's marked as his.

Geno's not nervous around him. Which, obviously, why would he be, but Mack's used to the guys his age being a little on edge, a little anxious, a little fumbling in the presence of Mack's pheromones. Geno's a whole-ass adult, though, and he's been mated to Sid for as long as Mack can remember, so of course he wouldn't give a shit about some 18-year-old kid.

The whole house smells like Geno, a mix of coconut and snow and citrus. It's comforting; Mack's never slept so well in his life, and it just feels safe, knowing that there's an alpha around all the time. Sid's left his mark too, of course, but there's no escaping that an alpha lives in this house, an alpha who's strong, and confident, and sure of himself.

It takes Mack two whole weeks before he can talk to Geno without turning bright red and stuttering. He'd feel more embarrassed by his behavior, the way he reacts to Geno's scent, if he thought Geno noticed for one single second.

Because the thing is, what Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin seem to spend most of their off-hours doing is...each other.

Mack's never walked in on them—they're too thoughtful, and he's seen the way Geno stares down other alphas who look a little too closely at Sid, he's not interested in anyone seeing Sid that way—but he can smell them, all over the house. Geno's got a hand on Sid constantly; at his waist as they move around each other in the kitchen, on his legs when they sit on the couch, cupping the bond-bite on Sid's neck when they think they're alone. He smells like he wants Sid all the time.

And Sid absolutely reciprocates.

Mack can't blame him. If he had an alpha like that— He doesn't let himself go too far down that path, because he has to live with them, and he's too young anyway, he wants to focus on his career for a while, but there's something about how happy Sid looks, the way he teases Geno until they're both pink and smiling, the way he gets this look in his eye when he watches Geno putter around in the kitchen, that makes something in Mack's gut twinge with longing. He wants this, someday—a mate, a home, someone who makes him that happy.

He just wishes they'd do a bit more to hide when they're going off to fuck, though. Mack's cycle is still irregular, and being this close to a mated pair who are having sex practically every night—Mack is shocked they can still do it that much at their age—is gonna push him into early heat one of these days, and then he'll have to ask for a ride to the facilities, and Geno will know, Geno will smell it on him, and they'll both be so nice and understanding and go out of their way to assure him it's normal and make sure he has what he needs, and it will just be the worst, most mortifying thing that's ever happened to him.

Anyway, yeah. Mack's pretty sure his dad had something else in mind, when he was talking about what Mack could pick up from living with Crosby and Malkin.

It's going to be a long year.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #a/b/o #my fic #my writing #macklin celebrini YOU are a pittsburgh penguin #rookie houseguest

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imaginechb · 5 months

Text

Long Distance w/ Connor Stoll

Aka I'm back on my Connor shit™️ and now you all have to deal with it ❤️

You started dating over the summer, knowing that you'll have to spend the school year apart, but not really caring. You really liked each other, and no one back home could compare with him. No one could relate to you and care for you on the level that he could, no one had those experiences with you.

On the day you have to go back to your hometown, you pack all your things up in your cabin, your siblings either doing the same or keeping each other company.

Connor appears in the doorway and everyone else exchanges looks before clearing out. You turn to him, tears in your eyes that you don't want to let fall, but you can't help it. He opens his arms and you break, falling into him.

You stay there for a bit, holding each other, letting tears fall, before finally letting each other go. He helps you finish packing and walks you out of the cabin.

The rest of the day is spent laying in the strawberry fields in the late summer sun, playing volleyball with friends, and eating meals together rather than at your respective tables.

When it's time to go, he gives you one last emotional hug and a long kiss, before watching you go, a helpless expression on his face as he turns away.

NOW. while you're gone, he sends you letters. Updates on what's been happening with him and the camp, love letters, he writes down playlists for you.

He misses you so bad, he definitely mopes for a while after you leave, until people kinda tell him to get it together.

Sometimes he sends you care packages with things you might need or want; ambrosia in case of monster attacks, your favorite candies, his favorite hoodie, a cd he burned in Chiron's office while he was away

For your birthday (if it's during the school year), he mailed you cupcakes he and Travis made... they weren't exactly edible when they arrived (or when they were made), but it's the thought that counts, right? He also sent you a bracelet he made you (you'd taught him how), another one of his hoodies, and a necklace that you didn't want to know the origins of for legal reasons.

As for you, it had taken a while to adjust back to the mortal world without Connor. Seeing friends at school was nice, but still lonely without him. They were good friends, but they'd never know you and understand you like your friends at camp would. They were mostly just to keep from being alone the rest of the year while waiting for summer's return.

You listen to the playlists and cds he sent you every night to fall asleep, on your walk home from school, when you miss him. You have it memorized from start to finish at this point.

You wear his hoodies to school and to sleep at night to the point where they need washed, which you don't want to do because they smell like him, but it has to be done 😔

Luckily, that's around the time that he sends another one :D

You send him letters and packages of things from the mortal world, candies that he'd never tried, little stickers and pins from places you go, cds, you even return his hoodies to him occasionally.

He comes to stay with you and your family around your winter break (your family was a little unsure about him at first but ended up absolutely adoring him), and you go to camp during spring break so you guys can spend time together.

YOU GUYS PLAY SILLY LITTLE GAMES LIKE TIC TAC TOE THROUGH THE MAIL OMGS

Iris-messaging whenever you can. Sometimes it's hard because he's busy with training and activities at camp, and you've got school and maybe even a job taking up your time, but you manage at least once or twice a week.

Also depending on where you live, time zones may or may not be a thing. If you live on the west coast, there's a three hour time difference between you, which doesn't sound like a lot, but it is. You could be getting home from school when he's eating dinner, and by the time you finish up your homework and dinner, he's at the campfire and going to bed.

But you guys make each other a priority, you wouldn't do anything else

Because at the end of the day, it can be hard, and you might miss each other a lot, but you're also demigods in love. What you have is unshakable, it's not going anywhere, even if you do.

#pjo #toa #trials of apollo #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #chb #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa #camp jupiter #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #connor stoll x you #pjo imagine #pjo x reader

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ricciardosgirl · 5 months

Text

you'll get lost

here in saltburn . .

let me guide you.

farleigh start x reader.

trigger warnings ; mentions of death.

————————————————————

it was an early morning , venetia had left me to gather my thoughts here in saltburn. we were the first to arrive. poor venetia was barely awake , so she decided to go have a nap. i got set up in my room — which wasn't next to venetia's room , which was odd. but of course , i was naive to think anything of it.

i was unpacking before the maids got to it , she told me that they'd throw out anything that they deemed ' scandalous ' and i had a lot of things considered that. until i heard a small knock at my door. i froze for a moment , hoping that it wasn't one of those damn maids yet.

i hurried over to the door , opening it and being welcomed by a tall handsome man , i hadn't seen him when i came in. he gave me a small little smile , looking down on me.

" hey. " he said ever so nonchalantly , i had no idea who the hell it was. it made me nervous. " hey . . " awkwardly , i leaning against my door frame. " sorry , probably just weirded you out , i'm farleigh — i'll be next door to you. " great , just what i needed , a guy next door to me.

the only reason i came to saltburn was to get away from guys — my boyfriend , now ex cheated on me. this was my escape. i nodded my head at him. " i'm y/n. " i hesitantly smiled up at him. " another american ? how wild. " he chuckled , i came from the windy city itself , chicago. " mhm , yeah. " i wasn't paying much attention , i was more focused on getting my shit together.

" what are you doing all the way out here ? " he leaned down a bit , i caught a good glimpse of him. he was handsome , great sense of style. he smelled oddly good. " i go to school out in london , needed a change of scenery. " i eased up a bit . . he didn't seem creepy. " ah , nice. " another smile from him , he's too friendly for his own good.

" so — it's a pleasure to meet you , i suppose you got stuff to do , sure venetia is going to be around here soon. " he tapped the door frame , attempting to leave. " she's not , i think she's napping. " i said , one hand on the door to keep it open. i could use the company , this place was ginormous . . but lonely. " i - uh . . don't really know much about this place , i don't even really know where i am in the house right now. " i tried to make small talk.

" it can feel like that , did venetia not give you a tour ? " he asked , i caught his attention. " no , she just took me to my room and said she was off for a nap. " i sighed , i didn't think venetia would be around for awhile.

" what a shame , this place is really beautiful. here , let me show you around. "

the hours passed as farleigh showed me around saltburn , we formed this slight closeness in the lonely halls. i . . enjoyed his presence , and i think he enjoyed mine. we talked for hours on end , we did have a lot in common after all.

i think i spent more time with farleigh than anything , we did everything together. sometimes i forgot that venetia invited me. i could tell that she was pissed — but i was just having fun. it was the best summer of my life , all spent with him.

but my favorite memory came towards the end of the summer. we avoided the hedge maze on my first go around saltburn , but i begged him to take me. we got lost , just laughing at our stupidity as we walked together. after awhile we reached the middle of the maze - there stood a huge minotaur.

we sat on the edge of the statute , admiring the beauty of the sky and the maze - until i caught his gaze on me. he stared at me , that dumb smile on his face.

" y/n? " he finally spoke. " yeah? " i turned to look at him , i met his gaze. " thank you. "

" for what ? "

" this summer. "

he was talking like he was on his death bed , but we leave saltburn tomorrow. " why are you thanking me ? " i asked , chuckling a little.

" because , it was the best summer i've ever had here. " i could feel my cheeks flush , i'd miss him so much. we never really spoke about what actually happened that summer , the bond we made - the things we did. we never talked about how one night i woke up next to him.

" i don't think i'll miss saltburn as much as i'll miss you. " he sounded hesitant , i nodded my head in agreement. this summer was one of the best i'd ever had , and it was all thanks to him. " i'm sure we will see each other again. " i stayed optimistic.

" maybe , maybe not. " that broke my heart , i stared in disbelief for a moment. " why ? " i looked down at the ground. " because i'm going back to america to be with my mother. " i understood , family comes first.

" then i'll see you next summer. "

" next summer. " he smiled , grabbing my smaller hand and holding it. " let's try and top this summer next year. " he chuckled , i agreed again. i sighed , deep down . . i didn't want to wait that long.

we sat in silence for awhile , birds chirping as time passed , he never let go of my hand. when i finally looked at him , he smiled at me. getting up and releasing my hand. " let's make tonight last. " he got hopeful. " forever. " i said , standing up and following him. i wrapped my arms around his waist from behind.

we stayed like that for a moment , none of us saying a word. he turned around , my arms still wrapped around him. that cheeky smile is all i remember , that moment repeating in my mind over and over again.

next summer , didn't happen. i didn't see farleigh again till we were standing over the grave of each one of the cattons. he held my hand as he silently mourned his cousin while i mourned my friend venetia. we didn't say a word to each other. we just stood in remembrance of our loved ones.

maybe in another life , another time.

#saltburn #angst #fanfic #farleigh start #archie madekwe #mentions of felix #mentions of venetia #major character death #this broke my heart #almost romance

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ckret2 · 8 months

Text

Chapter 17 of Human Bill Causes Problems And Ruins Relationships On Purpose (title TBD), featuring: Mabel and Ford, not letting their relationship be ruined.

They're gonna be okay.

Also: weird donuts, cool crystals, and summer class.

####

Mabel was out of sight by the time Ford exited the shop—stupid, why hadn't he chased her the second he saw her run? He knew Mabel was fast. He circled the block calling her name—there was nowhere she could have gone, this mixed-use building was surrounded by residential houses—and then he hurried back to the parking garage, worst case scenarios tumbling through his head.

When he spied her leaning against the trunk of Stan's car, he heaved a sigh of relief. "Mabel! You shouldn't run off like that in a strange city. Anything could have happened."

Mabel tightened her crossed arms, glaring at her shoes. "I'm better at taking care of myself than you think."

Ford's shoulders slumped. He stood there useless, the silence thick between them, grappling for something to say to cut through it.

He never did well with these thick, awkward, choking moments—the moment before Stan left home, the moment after Fiddleford left the portal project, all the moments on the phone with his parents or with Shermie when he couldn't think of anything they'd be truly interested to hear about his life or any questions he truly wanted them to answer. He'd lost a lot of relationships in those moments. "Mabel—you're not in trouble, and I'm... I'm not mad at you."

"Being disappointed isn't better."

"I'm not disappointed, either. Just... concerned."

Wrong word. Mabel looked up at Ford with a dark, furious look that reminded him unnervingly of a look Bill had given him a few days ago. (He still hadn't learned to identify this as the hallmark gaze of the defiant teenager.) Then she glared at the ground again. "I wanna go home."

If he took her home, it would be an agonizing hour and a half silence—and what were the odds she'd just run to Bill and tell him he'd been "right," and he'd fill her head with more poison? It was far too late to forbid her from talking to him without exacerbating the situation. Ford could force her to stay right here in Portland until he'd talked to her—he had the keys, the driver's license, and almost fifty years' seniority—but if he did that, she'd tune out anything he said.

And she'd be right to. Who was he to her except the other uncle, the one who'd spent a year lavishing attention on her brother and only asked to spend time with her as a trap to give her a lecture?

He leaned on the car trunk next to her and looked down at the top of Mabel's head. She was wearing a headband studded with rhinestones and plastic ruby earrings. She'd dressed up for this. Ford swallowed hard. "Mabel, I'm an idiot."

She didn't say anything.

"I am. I'm a fool. I put all my skill points in intelligence and zero in charisma." He paused. "Which... that sentence probably makes self-evident." He cleared his throat. "I started out bad at socializing, and not interacting with humans for thirty years didn't make me any better. So I don't have any idea what I'm doing here. But... I asked you to come here with me because I really do want to spend more time with you; and because Bill hurt me, and I love you too much not to make sure you're protected against him doing the same to you."

He put a hand on her shoulder, and when she didn't tense up or pull away, he went on: "I think I tried to do too much in one trip, and it just made what should have been a fun time... awkward for you. But, if it helps, it's awkward for me, too. We can be awkward together. We're on the same side, I promise."

Mabel let out a loud, snotty sniff. "You... really do wanna hang out with me?" Quieter, she asked, "Not just Dipper?"

"Of course I do!" Ford said. "But I don't blame you for doubting me. I... know I've spent less time with you than with Dipper. I thought he needed me more. I'm sorry it took this to make me make time for you like I should have all along."

"Was... was there ever really a crystal store on the highway?"

"There was! I promise! I honestly don't know what happened to it! Maybe when I was coming from the airport Soos took a different exit than I thought? Or maybe a truck got between us and the sign as we were passing it and we didn't realize, but—"

He was getting off topic. The mystery of the crystal store wasn't what was important here. Reel in the puzzled scientist for a moment and be an uncle. "But—I swear Mabel, I didn't make up a story just to get you out here. I truly wanted to go to a crystal shop with you, hand on my heart." He put his hand on his heart. "That's a full finger more sincere than normal."

Mabel let out a choked giggle. She finally looked up at Ford, eyes red, cheeks tear streaked, but fighting to smile through her tears. "Grunkle Ford, I—" She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his sweater. "I'm not trying to ruin summer again, I promise! All I'm talking to Bill about is preschool cartoons and arts & crafts! Sure, he's—he's been nice since I helped him out, but—that doesn't mean I've forgotten who he is or what he can do..."

"Mabel, you didn't ruin last summer." Ford knelt down and hugged her back. "Bill did. Never forget that. I'm just trying to prevent him from doing it again."

Mabel nodded, unconvinced. "He couldn't have ruined it by himself."

"You're right. He couldn't. Which is why I was so wrong to keep the rift secret from everyone in the house but Dipper. I was trying to keep you safe, but you never would have fallen for his lies if I'd armed you with all the information you needed."

He leaned back from Mabel and patted his briefcase. "That's why I'm doing things properly this time! I'm prepared to educate you on every trick Bill has ever borrowed from the books of con artists, cult leaders, and serial manipulators. If you're going to talk to him, you'll know the rules of every mind game he plays before he starts playing them." He unzipped his briefcase and pulled out some of the research materials he'd assembled to prepare for this conversation. "I'm afraid even that might not be enough to fully protect you against his devious tricks, but if you keep your guard up and regularly check in with the rest of the family, then—"

Mabel looked in Ford's briefcase and exploded in a peal of laughter. "Grunkle Ford, are you making me go to school in the summer?! Gross!"

Ford blinked. If this was Dipper, he'd have been delighted at the educational opportunity. This just went to show how much he still needed to learn about Mabel, too. "Come now, Mabel. There's no greater defense against the shadowy forces of deception than the light of knowledge!"

Mabel laughed again. "You nerd!"

Ford grinned. "But, I'll try to make it fun, too."

"Okay, I'll take your psychology class. Bill-proof me! Arm me with knowledge!" She raised her arms like she was flexing her biceps.

"Great!" Ford rummaged through his briefcase. "I'll start with the broad strategies I've seen or heard of him using to isolate his victims, then narrow in on specific tactics he uses to steer conversations his way. First we'll go over the B.I.T.E. model of authoritarian control, and—"

Mabel put a hand on his shoulder. "How about we start with lunch?"

Ford paused, then let out a huff. "Yes, of course. We should eat."

They got in the car and went looking for a restaurant.

####

They had lunch at a burger place, and Ford told Mabel everything he could think of about how Bill operated—all guided by copious research notes.

To his relief, Mabel never got bored. Instead, she immediately related his lesson back to things she'd already seen Bill do: how easily he'd gotten her, Dipper, and Soos to do his job for him inside Stan's mind, or how he'd tried to turn Mabel and Dipper against each other during Mabel's puppet show. When she admitted what Bill had said to make her worry about talking to Ford, he confessed how Bill had turned him against Fiddleford—and how he'd done it with just a couple comments. All he'd had to say was that Fiddleford might not be committed enough to the portal project, might not be bold enough to finish, and Ford's mind had done the rest.

Ford hadn't even told Dipper about that part—instead, he'd just let Dipper read it in his journal. Ford had yet to so much as talk to Fiddleford himself about it. It was shameful to admit out loud; but less so when he knew he was talking to someone else who'd very nearly been fooled the same way—and that sharing his story might save her from repeating it.

They wrapped up lunch, moved to a nearby shop called Druid Donuts for dessert, and continued their conversation on one of the picnic tables outside. Mabel got a donut wizard with a pretzel stick wand and purple cream filling, and Ford tried out a donut with jelly beans on top. The jelly beans were kinda stale. He plucked them off and ate them anyway.

Mabel sighed, "Grunkle Ford, I'm so sorry I let Bill make me doubt you."

"Bill has that effect on people. When I had this same talk with Dipper, he tried to shoot me with the memory gun in case Bill was possessing me."

"Dipper never mentioned that!" Mabel laughed; but it quickly petered out as she remembered who had ultimately gotten memory gunned over Bill.

She gazed thoughtfully down at her wizard. (She'd eaten off one of his arms, half his robe, and licked out the purple cream filling.) "What made Bill so awful?"

"I sorely wish I knew," Ford said. "I spent half my life trying to find out where he came from, along with how to defeat him. All I ever learned is that he's from a two-dimensional realm—and he destroyed his dimension, friends and family included, for power."

Mabel's eyes widened.

"But... why? I still don't know. He told me he found his home 'restrictive'—but I imagine any limitations would feel restrictive to someone who's seeking omnipotence, so I have no idea what that truly means." Ford looked down at his donut. He'd plucked off all the jelly beans and sorted them into two piles on a napkin, one of regular beans and a smaller one with a few deformed ones. He popped a couple of beans in his mouth.

"It's weird," Mabel said. "It's like... I'm trying to hate him, but it's hard. It was easy last year! And I know who he is, and I know that all this"—she pointed at Ford's bag full of notes—"is going on in his head, but—when I talk to him, he just seems like... not a different person, but a—a normal person. I don't want to not give that person a chance just because he's Bill. You know? Does that make sense?" Mabel grimaced. "Or is that just how good he is at acting?"

Softly, Ford said, "I think it does make sense. Actually, even after everything he's done to me... since he's been locked up with us, I've—had a moment or two like that. I don't think he's doing it on purpose. I think it's a natural side effect of being in such close proximity to him."

Ford had been thinking a lot about his bizarre burst of compassion on the night Bill burned off his hair. He'd wondered if, maybe, putting a human face over Bill had made Ford see him as a new person. But that wasn't right. Like Mabel had said: Ford didn't see this human Bill as a different person, but rather...

Ford had obsessed over Bill for thirty years. He'd combed the multiverse for information about Bill's history, his state of existence, his potential weaknesses. But in all that time—in all that time, he hadn't once spoken with Bill.

He'd spent half a lifetime moving amongst people who saw Bill as a symbol, a legend, a cosmic force. He'd come to see Bill the same way. A threat, a target, an idea. He'd spent so many years picking a scant few hours of conversation with Bill to shreds that—he was now beginning to realize—he'd half convinced himself that Bill didn't actually have an identity beneath his lies.

It wasn't that seeing a human face made Ford forget that this person was Bill. It was that seeing a human face made Ford remember that Bill was a person. Ford had gotten so used to hating Bill the symbol; had he ever learned how to hate Bill the person? Or had he just let himself believe Bill wasn't a person at all?

Treating Bill like an idea rather than a person was useful enough when Bill was some distant foe. But now Bill was here. Ford couldn't let himself go soft just because Bill was capable of filling space in a window seat and tripping on the furniture and waking screaming from nightmares and regretting a stupid haircut.

Bill had been a person every other time Ford had tried to kill him, too. And that didn't change the fact that he needed to die.

And Mabel—who had so much less practice with hatred than Ford had—was struggling with the same thing.

"You want him to make sense," Ford said. "I understand that completely. Once we see somebody as a person, it's hard to see them as a monster, even if that's what they are. Our minds think monsters want to destroy the world, not play weird chess games. Seeing him as just a monster would be safer for everyone—but, as long as he's imprisoned and powerless, all he can do is be a person."

Mabel thought that over. "Yeah," she said. "You can hate somebody or you can get to know them, but you can't do both."

Ford could think of a few people he'd only hated more the better he got to know them, but he supposed Mabel was kinder than him. "More or less."

"How do you deal with it?"

"By avoiding him."

Mabel's gaze dropped back to her donut wizard. She ate his wand and other arm.

Ford took a deep breath. "Mabel... knowing everything you know now, do you still want to keep talking to him?"

Her neck sank down into her turtleneck. "Do I fail your class if I say yeah?"

Ford smiled sadly. Was she too kind for her own good, or—like Ford—too curious? "I thought you might say that," he said. "Follow-up question: are you prepared to be disappointed when he doesn't live up to your hopes? And I do mean 'when,' not 'if.' You're offering him a charity I don't think he's capable of reciprocating."

If she'd gotten angry, if she'd gotten defensive, he would have worried more. But she laughed and said, "Grunkle Ford, last summer I got my heart broken by like, sixteen boys. After that, I can handle finding out the evil demon triangle I'm trying to reform is still an evil demon. I'll be impressed if he ever gets an opportunity to kill one of us and doesn't take it."

Ford chuckled, relieved. "I think you deserve to hang out with people you can hold to higher standards than that."

"I do! But the other people I hang out with don't wanna watch the same shows as me. I don't think I can make you understand how important that is."

On the one hand, that struck Ford as a very thirteen-year-old priority. On the other hand... He winced. "Actually... for a while, he was the only person that would play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with me."

"WHAT! What kind of character did he play!"

"None. He always wanted to be the dungeon master," Ford said. "He ran very strange campaigns. And had a weird fascination with princesses with eyeballs for heads. And, in retrospect, it was probably a red flag when he decided to portray the God of Long Odds as a one-eyed golden triangle."

Mabel at least had the good grace to bite her lip instead of laughing at Ford.

"Well. I don't think you should want to talk to him. But, if you do... then you have a rare opportunity. Perhaps the first in multiversal history. Bill's our captive, he seems to trust you, he's motivated to make you trust him... I think if anyone's ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Perhaps you'll get your question answered."

"Grunkle Ford..." Mabel grinned slyly. "Are you saying that you want me to talk to him? Like, as a spy?"

Ford grimaced. "If I said that, that would make me a terrible uncle. I should be doing everything in my power to steer you away from him. I know that would be safer for everyone and healthier for you." He paused. "But. I can't control you. And as long as you've decided to talk to him anyway—I want to know everything you learn."

Mabel laughed. "You got it!"

"Final advice: don't trust anything he says, assume everything he does has an ulterior motive, and never agree to do anything he asks without twenty-four hours away from him to consider it. And keep talking to us—to me, to Dipper, to Stanley. He might fool one of us, but he can't fool all of us."

"Yeah!" Mabel raised a hand. "Pines power!"

"Pines power." Ford high-sixed her, then finished up his donut. "Well, I think this was very educational for both of us." He stood. "You've still got your $50. Want to go back to the crystal shop?"

####

They grabbed a big green box of donuts for the family and headed back to Lunar Blessings. While Mabel was agonizing over several fun-colored crystals, Ford wandered back toward the statue of Bill. He had to do something about this. "Excuse me." He waved down the shopkeeper. "Do you happen to know where this sculpture came from? The name of the artist, or...?"

She came over to study it. "I think we get all of these from a studio in the Bahamas, but I don't remember the artist off the top of my head. Why?"

He tried to think of a lie that sounded more realistic than the truth—maybe if he said he thought he recognized the art style and wanted to know if an old friend had made it, she'd be willing to dig up the artist's name?

He decided to go with a story that might get this thing off the shelf faster. "Because that particular depiction of the Eye of Providence is associated with a dangerous cult."

Her brows went up. "You're sure? It's a common symbol."

"Giving it eyelashes and a bow tie isn't. Trust me: either the artist is a cultist, or they got the design from somebody who is."

"Cult's a... pretty loaded word." (Ford grudgingly respected her for her wariness. She probably dealt with somebody calling something-or-other in this shop "cultish" on a daily basis.) "How do you know they're that bad?"

"Because once I got in, it took me thirty years to get out."

The shopkeeper's demeanor changed immediately. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. We get these in bulk with a lot of other sculptures, I thought it was just some obscure... Are these people dangerous, or—?"

"Not as much as they used to be, I don't think. Their founder's incarcerated. But... the kind of people who'd be eager to buy this probably aren't the people you want to sell to."

As she eyed the sculpture skeptically—probably deciding whether she found this stranger's story credible enough to warrant taking merch off her shelves—Ford asked, "Do you think you could find the artist? With the founder gone, I... I've been wondering how his other victims are faring." There wasn't much point in pushing further to remove the item. He'd given the shopkeeper enough to think about, and he doubted one more statue on one more shelf would really do any harm while Bill couldn't use its eye.

She hesitated, then nodded. "I'll check our records. If we don't have it, you can give me your contact info and I'll let you know when I find out."

"Thank you." What would Ford say if he did meet another of Bill's victims? He'd known a few, very distantly, thirty years ago; Bill had told him who he could go to to get art, much like the sculpture in this store. Back then, he'd felt like he was in a secret society—a real secret society with real secrets, not like the corny social club styling itself a "secret society" he'd joined in college—with the double secret that none of the other members knew that Ford was the society president's favorite. In retrospect, they'd probably thought they were Bill's favorites, too.

He supposed he'd find out if he ever met the artist.

####

Mabel found a little pink cat figurine, a string of small nazar eye beads she thought would be great for crafts, an extremely small crystal naturally colored like a watermelon slice, and a bracelet made out of tiny colorful rock chips arranged in a rainbow. The shopkeeper wasn't able to find the artist's name before they left; but Ford left his name, address, and the shack's number on a piece of receipt paper so she could contact him if she found out more.

As they were leaving, Ford said to Mabel, "You know... if you still like those glass pyramids, I think there's a couple in my study that escaped the purge. You could have one."

"Really? You're sure? You don't have to..."

"I'm sure. They're not magical or dangerous—and I think I'd like for one of them to get new, better associations. Just, keep it in a room where Bill can't get his hands on it," Ford said. "But if he does see it... make up a story about it that will drive him crazy."

Mabel considered that. And then a wicked smile twisted up her face.

####

"Okay, your turn," Mabel said. She was slouched down in her seat with her feet up on the car's dashboard. "Befriend, betray, or betroth: Carl Sagan, the Queen of England, and... a wizard."

Ford sucked in a breath. "Ooh, that's tough." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Describe the wizard."

"Greatest wizard of all time! And his beard is like, ten feet long."

Ford pursed his lips as he thought. "Marry the wizard," he said. "As much as I admire Carl's mind, he freely shares his knowledge with the public. Wizards are far more reclusive. Marriage may be my only way to learn his secrets."

"The queen isn't even on the table?"

"I've been a king before, Mabel. Too many social obligations for me," Ford said. "I suppose I'll have to befriend the queen. I can't afford to make any more powerful enemies. Anyway, it could give me an opportunity to ask about some of the legends surrounding Buckingham Palace."

"So you'd betray...?"

Ford frowned deeply. "This game is vicious."

Mabel laughed. "I won't tell him!"

"I appreciate it," Ford said. "All right, your turn. Befriend, betray, or betroth: a president, a movie star, and an astronaut."

Mabel paused. Mabel thought about the guy on the $10 bill—who, she was sure, was definitely a president, or else they wouldn't have put him on a bill. Mabel said, "Which president?"

He'd meant the concept of a president, but. "Uh..."

Mabel gasped and sat up straight. "Grunkle Ford, look!" She pointed out the driver's side window.

"Wh—?" Ford gaped as they drove past a tall pole topped with a gray sign. The sign read, "OCCULTED CRYSTALS". Beneath the words was a glass window shaped like a cut diamond.

"Is that—?"

"That's it!" Ford swerved into the exit lane. "You're not getting away this time, you sonofagun!"

"I've still got like two dollars! Let's do this!"

They celebrated and congratulated each other as they descended onto the frontage road and made a U-turn under the highway.

On the other side, there was no trace of the sign. All they found was a strip of five nondescript whitewashed storefronts, all out of business, with a narrow weed-filled parking lot in front.

Mabel and Ford exchanged a baffled look.

Ford pulled into the empty parking lot and stepped out of the car. "It was here, wasn't it?" he asked. "It can't have been farther back than this." He squinted to the west, shielding his eyes with his hand. No signs that way, and no trees or buildings tall enough to be hiding one.

"Maybe it's a time travel thing!" Mabel jumped out of the car and ran to the abandoned stores, peering through the windows one at a time to see if any looked like a former crystal shop.

Ford glanced warily at a concrete block along the edge of the parking lot that looked like it might once have supported a pole. "Hmm."

Eventually, when they couldn't find anything, they slunk back into the car, got on the frontage road, took the next U-turn, and got back on the highway.

The diamond-windowed Occulted Crystals sign taunted them from the horizon.

They stared dumbly at it.

Mabel pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

"What are you?" Ford asked the sign. "Is it invisible on its other side?"

Mabel turned in her seat and peered through the back window as they passed it. "Still visible!"

"Then can it only be seen if you're traveling east on the highway?" Ford mused. "But you'd have to be westbound to take an exit that reaches that location. It's impossible to access."

"What if you're traveling west but you drive the car backwards!"

Ford mulled over that. "For starters, we'd probably get pulled over." Ford glanced down at the car's clock. "It's getting late, too. We can't procrastinate anymore if we want to be home in time for dinner."

The sign had disappeared behind them. Mabel turned back around and settled in her seat. "I think this calls for a follow-up investigation later, don't you?"

Ford grinned. "I had the exact same thought."

####

"... And that's how we realized it wasn't Louisa who had slashed Sarah's tires," Abuelita said, "it was Arthur! Can you believe it? Arthur!" She turned away from the stove to look at Bill, eyebrows raised, making sure he fully appreciated this twist.

Sitting backwards on one of the kitchen chairs, he shrugged. "I can't blame him. Every man has his limit. And Sarah's been pushing his for weeks." He took a swig from a bottle of spoiled grape juice.

"Stop drinking my cooking wine," Abuelita said. "Sure, but Arthur's so passive! I thought he'd have a nervous breakdown long before he ever took action! Anyway, things just haven't been the same since he got arrested."

Bill shook his head sympathetically. "I tell you. This town's bingo hall is really going to the dogs."

The front door swung open, and Mabel's voice drifted in: "Betroth the vampire, of course. And—is it possible to betray a zombie? Do they understand loyalty? When Soos got turned..."

Bill perked up, set the juice bottle on the kitchen table, and got to his feet, immediately drawn to a more rewarding distraction. "I'll get out of your hair," he told Abuelita, and switched to English. "Hey, Shooting Star and Sixer!" He leaned against the kitchen doorway. "How were the crystals?"

"Great! I got a watermelon rock and a cat and some beads and the coolest bracelet!" She raised her hand and twisted it back and forth, making the rock chips click together. "And donuts!" She shoved a big green open box in Bill's face. "You're allowed to take one. Only one."

He grabbed the yellowest one he saw and bit in. "Huh. Piña colada. Weird." He took another bite and leaned around the open box lid to look at Mabel. "So. Did you two have fun?"

"Yes! It was a blast!" Mabel gushed. "We got lunch in Portland, and we talked foreverrr, and we've got more in common than I ever imagined, and we're gonna make more trips to Portland soon! I think it really brought us closer together."

"Huh." Bill's gaze flicked up to Ford. "How about that." Ford's face betrayed nothing. Bill looked back at Mabel and grinned wider. "Glad he's less of a killjoy than I thought."

"Pffft! You know he knows how to have fun," Mabel said. "Mr. God of Long Odds."

Bill's eyebrows shot up.

Mabel squeezed past Bill into the kitchen. "Abuelita, if you want a donut, I'm putting them in the bottom left cabinet with the pots."

"Thank you, Mabel."

"I'm taking Ford to the record store to introduce him to late 80's music," Mabel went on. "And we saw a crystal shop that isn't there depending on which way you're driving! Whaaat! Crazy, right!"

"Oh, you found Occulted Crystals?" Now Bill's grin was aimed at Ford. "I know you didn't get that bracelet there. Didn't figure out how to get in?" He winked. "Do you want to?"

Ford's expression darkened; but before he could say anything, Mabel darted back into the entryway. "No! No spoilers! You'll ruin the fun of figuring it out!"

Bill laughed. "Okay, fine! Just one safety tip: never go looking for it on an empty stomach."

Mabel gave him a distrustful look. "Will that help us get in?"

"It'll help you get back out."

She nodded slowly. "Good to know." She hugged Ford. "I'll be right back! I haven't been to the bathroom since lunch." She bounded upstairs.

Leaving Ford with Bill.

Bill simply smiled. "You talked about DD&MD? That takes me back."

"I know what you're up to, you snake," Ford said. "And it's not going to work. At least leave her out of it."

"Hey, you can't blame me for worrying about her," Bill said. "She's such a caring little thing. And you don't have a strong history of family loyalty."

Ford's hands curled into fists; but he forced himself to turn away from Bill without acknowledging him, and headed for his and Stan's guest room.

"But hey," Bill called after him. "I really am thrilled to see you two getting along so well."

Nothing in Bill's tone sounded sarcastic. Ford paused and glanced back at him suspiciously; but then he shook his head and kept going.

Bill's smile faded. He made a rude gesture at Ford's back; then returned to his post at the kitchen table to listen to Abuelita's gossip and make sure she didn't touch the poison.

####

(Thank y'all for not pulling out the pitchforks at the end of last chapter lol. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment or reblog! Thanks! 💕)

#mabel pines #grunkle ford #(for the art)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #(for the fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #bill goldilocks cipher

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areyougonnabe · 1 year

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“Antarctic Lovebirds” – the untold story of Harry Pennell & Edward Atkinson

[FULL BLOG POST HERE]

Harry Pennell, navigator of the Terra Nova, was in his own words “absurdly in love” with expedition surgeon Edward L. Atkinson, as he wrote in his private diary.

Atkinson was on the shore party in Antarctica and Pennell remained on the ship, but when they were together onboard, their bond was clear enough for biologist Dennis Lillie to depict it in one of his exquisite caricatures, drawing them as “Antarctic Love-birds.”

In summer 1913 after the expedition returned, Pennell and Atkinson lived together at 15 Queen Street. They met each others’ families, frequently dined out and saw theater, and spent weekends together in the country. Pennell called Atkinson “Jane,” and Atkinson called him “Penelope” — nicknames they'd gotten on board the Terra Nova.

But one month after Pennell wrote in his diary that being so “violently in love” with Atkinson was “aggravating,” Atkinson revealed he had a girlfriend. And one month after that, Pennell proposed unexpectedly Katie Hodson, the sister of his best friend (and possibly his first love) from the Navy.

The diary draws to a close as the work of the Expedition finishes. Pennell visited Atkinson at his job, & wrote that “Jane has been splendid explaining aspects of the physical side of marriage.” Atkinson departed to study parasites in China, & Pennell was appointed to a new ship.

Both men married in 1915. Neither had children. Pennell went down with his ship at the Battle of Jutland in 1916. Atkinson was badly wounded in 1918 when his ship HMS Glatton exploded in harbor.

But for one precious summer, Pennell was in love.

#hey guys do you want to be sad.#polar exploration

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katiapostsss · 2 months

Text

DRABBLE:

the notebook (hayden christensen)

enjoy!

〰️

"my dearest allie." the tv's blare was the only light in the stillness of the room, reflecting off the tears that welled in your eyes. unmistakably, and once again. "i couldn't sleep last night because i know that it's over between us. i'm not bitter anymore because i know that what we had was real. and if in some distant place in the future, we see each other in our new lives, i'll smile at you with joy, and remember how we spent a summer beneath the trees—"

your fist beneath your nose and your brows bunched upwardly together, the first of the tears fell. this part always got you. noah's letters were a cry-able thing after all. the screen panned to allie's sullen eyes on the road and her navy car driving across plains and plains of greenery. "—learning from each other and growing in love. the best love is the kind that weakens the soul. that makes us reach for more. that.. plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds. and that's what you've given me. that's what i'd hoped to give you forever." your shoulders convulsed as you sobbed into your hand, feeling the pain of the scene and allie's own pain like it was your own. "i love you, i'll be seeing you, noah."

exhaling through the o-shape of your lips, you expected a mock or a quip from the cushions beside you. a smirk or a laugh. hayden had been saying he wouldn't cry almost the whole movie and had also been teasing you about the solemn shake of your head when noah took that picture in front of the newly-built house and the tears that escaped the confinements of your eyes when they fought on that deck, in that rain. out by the lake. you'd watched the notebook before, and because he hadn't, you had countered back that he most certainly would cry and if he didn't, he was some sort of sociopath. it became a game between you.

and so that was what you waited for. the prod in your side and bright eyes on the side of your face. they never came. because....

"hayde—?" you thought maybe he fell asleep. maybe he was being truthful when he said this movie was mediocre. boring. but... when you looked to your left, to the man whose arm held you to his chest and whose legs were strewn across the extended footrest, you got... "are you— crying?!"

immediately, you straightened, pulling yourself from his embrace and staring at him incredulously. the blanket spread across the both of you slipped down your shoulders. hayden's eyes stared straight into the screen, still on the movie, the light shining on the tears streaked across his face. he quickly dodged his head. "no.."

forgetting all about the previous sorrows, a grin spread across your lips, contorting from shocked to giddy. hayden moved his hands to his cheeks, face turned down, and wiped off what you knew now for sure were tears with his palms.

"oh my god— you're crying!" you laughed, sniffling wetly through your nose and poking his side. he finally laid his eyes on you, batting your hand away and shooting a disgruntled look your way.

"i'm not crying."

"see, i told you you'd cry. i told you!" when you kept finding openings in the two arms he used to shield his torso, you poked and prodded, and each time, he tried deflecting. finally, he raised a hand and pushed your whole head away from him, sending you back a little. still, you giggled.

"it's not my fault. stop laughing!" hayden huffed, turning back to the screen and crossing his arms over his chest. you shook your head, leaning in and pecking his cheek. he didn't let. rolling your eyes with a smile, you twisted and fell back into his chest, watching the ongoing scenes with him.

"look who's sensitive now."

in total, he cried 3 times, and asked you if they'd end up together 6. hayden owed you 30 dollars by the time the credits rolled.

THE NOTEBOOK RAHHH

requests are open ofc ❤️❤️

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zablife · 7 months

Text

Michael's Wedding Gift

Requested by @peakyswritings for my 2K celebration An Evening at Arrow House. Warning: This is a dark fic 💀

A/N: For added effect play "A Heart Made of Yarn" by Franz Gordon while reading.

The new Mrs. Shelby nuzzled her cheek against the course hairs of Tommy's chest, eyelids shut tight to keep in the tears that threatened to overspill. Her breath caught in her throat as she whispered, "I don't understand why he isn't allowed to come to the party?"

Tommy moved to sit up in bed and his wife scrambled to find a place at his side. What had she done that was so wrong, inviting his cousin inside for tea when he arrived unannounced? He was the only relative to congratulate them in the month they'd been married.

As Tommy caught sight of the tear rolling down his wife's cheek, he softened. "If I'd known you wanted him here, he would have been invited, but Michael is going back to Boston in the morning. It couldn't be helped," he answered, brushing the tear away with the pad of his thumb. A deep chuckle rose from inside his chest as he asked, "What's so special about Michael anyhow? We're expecting at least fifty other guests who will be more than happy to coo at your gorgeous gown from Paris."

Mrs. Shelby sniffled as she replied, "It's not that. He was kind to me," she recalled, thinking of Michael's warm, brown eyes and unassuming nature which made her feel at ease around him. She learned that he was relatively new to the family business which gave them something to bond over. He wasn't brash, but shy and quiet like her and the kinship they forged was something she held dear despite the short time spent together.

"There will be other parties, love," Tommy assured her with a kiss to the top of her head. She held to that promise, dreading the evening before them because she understood the Shelbys could be an unforgiving lot.

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

As Mrs. Shelby greeted the arriving guests, she shifted nervously in her high heels and nuzzled closer to her husband's side. Despite the warm summer evening, there was a distinct chill radiating from the glacial stares of Tommy's friends and family. Apparently, not one found her worthy of the great Thomas Shelby, MP OBE. Sensing his wife's nervousness, Tommy gave her hand a gentle squeeze and she willed herself not to give up so soon.

As she turned to accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she locked eyes with Tommy's man Isaiah. He swaggered toward her purposefully as he deposited a key into her hand.

"What's this?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

"A wedding gift, compliments of Mr. Michael Gray," he said with a bow.

"A car?" she asked incredulously.

"You must have made quite an impression," Isaiah remarked.

"I wouldn't say that, but he was understanding of my situation," Mrs. Shelby replied, staring at the key which sat heavy in her palm.

"Whatever you say, ma'am," Isaiah agreed, turning his back to her.

"Isaiah, wait. I was wondering something," she asked with genuine concern. A thought had been plaguing her mind since tea. She hadn't wanted to make Tommy's cousin self conscious asking about his obvious limp, but she couldn't reconcile it seeing that Michael was far too young to be a war veteran. "I was hoping you might know what happened to Michael's leg?"

Isaiah's eyebrow twitched with a hint of mischief and he bowed his head to whisper, "Reckon Tommy don't want you to know, but his cousin's a nutter. Blew up the wishing well in his village with dynamite when he was a boy and got caught in the explosion."

Mrs. Shelby's hand flew to her mouth in panic. Surely the man she'd been speaking with a day earlier wasn't capable of such things. "My God," was all she could utter.

Isaiah gave a nod as guests filed past them, unaware of Mrs. Shelby's distress as he continued the grizzly tale. "That's not all. He got a taste for it after that. Set fire to the little farmhouse where he lived and the family who took him in burnt in their beds," he said, lips curling into a wicked sneer, delighted by the reaction he received.

Then he added one last threat for good measure. “Stay on his good side, Mrs. Shelby. Perhaps convince your husband to bring him back from his exile in America? Michael wasn’t pleased about that,” he said ominously.

Mrs. Shelby felt her heart racing and palms sweating as she looked around wildly for Tommy. As she spied him coming closer, she grabbed for him with trembling hands, a way to anchor herself in a sea of confusion and terror.

"There's my lovely wife," he beamed. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked seeing her ashen face.

"Can we go?" she begged, desperate to be rid of the unpleasant company. "There's something I'd like to show you," she said, holding up the key.

"Of course," Tommy replied, placing an arm securely around her waist.

"Michael's given us a wedding gift," Mrs. Shelby announced, gesturing toward a beautiful new Bentley parked in the drive. "What do you make of that?"

"It's a very nice automobile," Tommy conceded through clenched teeth, shoving his hands into his pockets hastily. "Shall we join our guests now?" he urged, turning to leave.

"Tommy, is Michael...dangerous?" his wife called to him, his foot frozen on the top stair. Before she had time to dissuade herself, she ran to him and confided everything Isaiah told her.

"People like to make up stories because Michael was away for many years, but it's nothing more than idle gossip,” he explained with a wave of his hand.

"Tommy, I must insist you take this seriously. Tell me you haven’t sent Michael to Boston to punish him. That he has no reason to quarrel with you,” his wife urged, voice bordering on hysteria.

Tommy's hands clasped her face between his large palms, icy blue irises fixating on hers in a hypnotizing stare as he promised, “Of course not, it’s only business," he swore. "Do you believe me?"

She nodded slowly, placing a hand over his. Her Tommy wouldn't lie or make false promises. She had complete faith and trust in her husband in that moment. She took his arm as he offered it out to her and walked confidently into dinner, knowing he would protect her from harm.

It would be the last time she was seen alive. The next morning as she placed the key in the ignition of her shiny new automobile, the engine suddenly exploded, tearing and twisting the metal into an unrecognizable ball of flame. As the smoke billowed up to the heavens, Tommy raced to the wreckage, finding a note on his doorstep left by his embittered cousin.

"Congratulations, Tommy. I understand why you eloped with this beautiful creature and left us all to fend for ourselves. Tell me, has she ever looked more lovely than she does now?"

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

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