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javiscigarette · 10 months

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Bad Fun

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Jealous Joel takes you in the bar bathroom. (Inspired by the like five jealous Joel requests that have been sitting pretty in my inbox for weeks).

Warnings: smut, established relationship, (semi) public sex, slapping, degradation, hair pulling, pretty rough (consensual!) sex, possessive Joel <3, heavy on the dirty talk and daddy kink no use of y/n

w/c: 3.4k

A/N: Answered a request? How very unlike me. Idk why but you guys were thirsty for jealous Joel but I am not complaining! Also two fics in a week? who am I turning into?

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You can feel his eyes on you, even with your back turned to him. And you can see the way the men look over your shoulder, casting anxious glances at the man who’s now giving them an icy glare.

“Well, if you ask me, I’d say you’re far too young and pretty to be hanging around with a man like that” one of them says as he casually places a hand on your midback.

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you don’t say anything about his hand on you.

“A man like what?” you ask innocently.

Almost everyone in Jackson knew about you and Joel. The two of you were practically glued at the hip, if there was one of you, then the other wasn’t far away. Joel usually had a protective arm draped your shoulders, keeping you safely tucked away under his arm. Or a hand tucked in the back pocket of your jeans as you walk the streets of Jackson together, giggling at some inside joke like you were the only two people in the world.

And most men knew that you were off limits. Most of them were smart enough not to test Joel like that, fully aware of the repercussions that come with going after his girl. But these younger men, the one’s around your age, were still ballsy enough to push the boundaries.

The man laughs, his hand slowly sliding further down your back.

“He’s just a bit old for you, isn’t he? He’s like 50, isn’t he?”

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You glance over your shoulder at Joel where he’s seated at a table across the room with Tommy and a few other guys from patrol. He has his front turned to you as he leans back in chair, one hand wrapped around his glass of whiskey and the other resting casually on his crotch. His eyes are dark as he watches you carefully and a small but dangerous smirk is tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“More years of experience” you quip, turning back around and taking a sip from the cocktail that one of them bought for you.

The boys laugh, and the hand on your back slides down even lower until he’s inches away from your ass. You allow it, fully aware that Joel is still watching you.

“Maybe” he says, stepping closer towards you and closing the space “But I bet I could last longer than him.”

You supress another laugh as images of Joel fucking you into the mattress for hours flashing through your head. If only they knew.

“Buy me another drink and maybe I’ll want to find out if you’re right” you say, looking at him through your lashes trying to feign innocence.

The man smirks, entire too confident in his abilities to pull someone else’s girlfriend, much less Joel Miller’s girlfriend. You giggle as he rushes to turn around and find the bartender, flagging him down and pointing to your empty glass.

These men are cute enough, boyish faces with a youthful sparkle in their eyes. Still, they’re obviously not you’re type and you’re far from being interested in slightest.

It’s not the flirting that fun, it’s what comes after.

Joel watches you for a few more minutes, his skin growing hot with jealousy as he watches the man inch his hand further and further down your back. But he doesn’t intervene. If he didn’t know any better, those men would be on the floor before they even got the chance to touch you.

But he’s not that naïve. He’s played this game with you before and he knows exactly what you want.

He downs the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass on the table before standing up and heading towards the bathroom. He crosses your line of sight on the way but doesn’t make any effort to acknowledge you.

He knows you’re watching.

“I’ll be back, you boys have fun without me” you say quickly before finishing your drink and setting the empty glass on the bar. You don’t give them a chance to respond before you’re slipping away and heading towards the bathroom.

Your entire body is vibrating with excitement as you practically run after Joel, heady desperation mixing with the alcohol in your veins. There’s only one bathroom and you only have to knock once before Joel swings the door open and yanks you inside. You giggle with excitement as he pushes you up against the door and clicks the lock in place.

With one hand on your hip, he shoves a knee between your legs so that his thick thigh presses firmly against your core.

“Such a fuckin’ slut” Joel growls. He brings his other hand up to grip your jaw, his fingertips digging in your cheeks and squeezing so hard that your mouth pops open.

“Can’t leave you alone for two goddamn seconds without you whorin’ yourself out.”

The whiskey is heavy on his breath and his eyes are dark, his pupils blown from the liquor and lust making you clench around nothing, already hopelessly turned on. His grip on your both your hip and jaw are firm and unforgiving, serving as an indicator for what’s about to go down. You know that you probably shouldn’t push him more than you already have, but you can’t resist.

“They were saying they could fuck me better.”

Joel’s jaw tightens and his scowl deepens as he narrows his eyes at you. He’s still for a beat, and you bat your eyelashes at him innocently. Then within an instant, he manhandles you over to the sink, pinning your front against the fake marble countertop with his hips. You giggle again when you feel the bulge in his jeans pressing firmly against your ass as he holds you tight against him.

He snakes an arm up the front of your body, his forearm resting heavy and warm between your breasts as he grips your jaw once again, forcing you to look straight ahead. Your gaze meets his in the mirror and a hot wave of arousal washes over you as he slips his other hand between your legs.

“Jesus fuck” he groans quietly when he feels how wet you are.

“I know what your little plan is, sweetheart” Joel murmurs as his fingers feather over your swollen, dripping seam. “Actin’ like a fuckin’ slut to get me to bend you over and make you stupid on my cock, right angel?”

You just grin smugly and back up against him. His eyes get even darker, and you can see the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly under his skin.

You nod weakly and whine at his words, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine as try to grind down on his fingers, desperately chasing after any sort of friction. But Joel’s not having it. He moves his hand away from your jaw briefly so he can deliver a sharp smack to your cheek. It’s not hard enough to truly hurt, but it’s definitely enough to make your eyes snap open and your skin tingle for a few seconds.

“Use your words” Joel hisses, his fingers curling around your jaw once again.

“Yes, Joel.”

Another quick slap.

“And mind your fuckin’ manners.”

You whine again before correcting yourself.

“Yes, daddy”

Joel groans and rolls his hips against your ass in approval. You whimper when his hand leaves your core, but you’re quickly rewarded when he slides his two fingers, damp with your slip past your lips. You suck on them happily, satisfied with something finally in your mouth. You languidly roll your tongue around them, licking off arousal and coating them liberally with your saliva. Joel watches you through the mirror and leans in until his mouth is inches away from your ear.

“Look at that” he whispers, his warm breath fanning over your ear and jaw. “My dirty little girl, so desperate for her daddy.”

Hi cock twitches against you as he watches your eyes roll back as drool starts to leak out of the corner of your mouth, a small drop sliding down your chin. He curses under his breath and slowly removes his fingers from your mouth. You whine at the loss, but the sound quickly melts into a loud, drawn-out moan when he shoves them inside of you. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, just starts pumping his two fingers in and out of you at a dizzying pace. He watches you in the mirror and forces you to watch too, his grip tightening on your face.

“So fuckin’ wet for me already, angel” Joel groans. “Does actin’ like a goddamn whore turn you on, baby? S’that why your little pussy is already dripping all over my fingers?

“Daddy please” you pant, already embarrassingly close to release.

He just chuckles breathlessly as you squeeze around his fingers. Another loud moan tumbles past your lips when he adds a third finger. It burns in the best way, your sensitive walls stretching out around his thick fingers.

But he suddenly stills his fingers inside of you and the pleasure starts to quickly fade. You whimper and wiggle your hips, already missing the sensation.

“Be a good slut and fuck yourself on daddy’s fingers.”

You make a garbled sound in your throat and immediately start to grind your hips back. You try to position your body to get his fingers deep like they were before, but it’s no use. Only he knows how to get that perfect angle. With a frustrated huff and no other options, you double down on your efforts. You curl your fingers over the beveled edge of the fake marble countertop and push your hips back.

The lewd squelching sounds of his fingers working your tight cunt open bounce off the walls of the small bathroom and into your ears, sending a wave of heat down your body. He groans next to your ear when you start squeezing his fingers so hard that you’re almost forcing them out.

“Greedy fuckin’ slut” Joel whispers. “You gonna cum like this?”

He’s well aware that it’s not enough. But he loves to watch you try.

“Can’t, Joel” you whine. You yelp when Joel pulls his fingers from you and delivers a sudden smack to your ass.

“What’s my fuckin’ name?” Joel hisses, squeezing your jaw even tighter. You wouldn’t be surprised if you found bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“Daddy” you whine, high pitched and needy.

He grunts approvingly then suddenly removes his fingers. You whimper quietly at the loss and watch through the mirror moves to unbuckle his belt. He shoves his jeans down just enough to free his cock then bunches the hem of your dress around your waist.

“Tell me something, baby” Joel sighs, using both hands to spread your cheeks and exposing your burning heat to the cool room of the air. “Do you think they could fuck you better than I can?”

“No, daddy” you reply without missing a beat.

Joel hums but doesn’t say anything as he takes a half step forward, pressing his cock against your dripping seam. You moan softly at the sensation, the smooth, warm skin of his tip rubbing against your puffy clit. He starts to rock his hips, slowly dragging his cock back and forth through your folds, lubing himself up with your slick.

“Are you this fuckin’ wet for them?” he rasps, his fingertips digging into your hips.

“No, daddy” you gasp.

“Then who’s this pussy so needy for?” Joel taunts, the fat tip of his cock notching at your entrance.

You clench around nothing and ty to push your hips back against him, but the sharp spank he lands on your ass stops you.

“You daddy! Please daddy, only for you.”

“That’s right, angel” Joel praises, bringing both hands to your hips. “You’re fuckin mine.”

With that, he pushes inside and buries himself to your hilt in one fluid movement. Your knees buckle and your head falls forward, hanging between your shoulders, but the arm he wraps around your waist keeps you upright. He holds you tight in place and snaps his hips against your ass, knocking all the air out of your lungs and getting impossibly deep with each thrust. You try to bite back the loud moans but it’s a lost cause when he finds the angle where his tip kisses your cervix with every stroke.

He starts pounding into you faster and removes his arm from your waist, his hand now trailing up your back instead. He fists his hand in your hair and pulls your head up and holds you there, forcing you to look ahead in the mirror.

“You keep your eyes on me. Since you seem to have trouble rememberin’ who fuckin’ owns you”

Your eyelids flutter, but you don’t dare close them. You stare at him through the mirror, eyebrows drawn together with your mouth hanging open, strained whines and moans slipping past your lips as he continues with his brutal pace. And he just smiles down at your almost cruelly.

Joel laughs breathlessly from behind you when you let out a loud, broken moan and your cheeks heat up at the sound, knowing that there are people less than five feet away on the other side of the wall. It’s mortifying for you, but it only fuels Joel’s fire.

“M’not gonna cover your mouth, sweetheart” Joel grunts, tightening his grasp in your hair even more. “Want you to let everyone in this bar know who’s fuckin’ you this good”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and the sounds start to freely pour out of you. The way he’s pounding relentlessly right into your g-spot causes the heat swirling in your belly to start burning hotter. Your knees are starting to buckle and your fingers scramble on top of the countertop, searching for purchase on the smooth surface as you try to keep yourself upright.

Joel isn’t any help. He just watches you carefully in the mirror as he slams into you so harshly that you’ll probably have light purple bruises on your hips from where you keep hitting the edge of the counter. And the way his cock starts pulsating inside of you when you start clenching around him drives you both crazy.

Your whole body feels on fire now with tingles spreading from your lower abdomen and up your spine to the rest of your body. You know he won’t let you finish. You’ve gotten yourself in this exact situation more than enough times to know that. And you also know how annoyingly in tune he is with your body he is, noticing every single miniscule cue you display.

So, you try to hide it. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to suppress your moans and you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down, but it’s no use when you start to shake. Joel groans then lets out a dark chuckle from behind as you tremble and reflexively clamp down around him, letting you know that yeah, of course he fucking noticed.

He leans forward while simultaneously pulling your back by your hair until his lips are brushing the shell of your ear and whispers “Bad girls don’t get to cum”

He then pulls out and takes a step back fisting his cock.

“Get on your knees” Joel commands before you even have the chance to whine at the sudden loss.

You automatically sink to your knees, leaning heavily into the sense of submission that starts to cloud your brain. He looks down at you and smirks at the captivated look on your face as you watch him steadily stroke his cock. The thing is, you can pick up on his cues too, no matter how much he tries to hide behind the façade of his dominance. You can see it in the way his heaving chest starts to flush, the dark blush spreading up his neck and to his cheeks. His breaths get quicker, fand he has a harder time keeping the whines out of his moans.

You look up at him from your spot on the floor with wet, glassy eyes and he curses under his breath at the sight.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You obey and part your wet lips.

“Good girl” he groans, taking a step forward until he’s inches away from your face. “Daddy’s gonna cum in your mouth, babygirl. D’ya want that?”

You nod vigorously and give him a small whimper for good measure.

“Please, daddy” you whisper, sticking your tongue out.

Joel curses again and his hand on his cock starts to move faster while his free hand moves to the back of your head. Your scalp is already sore from the grasp he had on it earlier so you’re relieved when he doesn’t pull, just gently tangles his fingers in your hair to hold your head in place.

“Knew you would. You’re just a slut for daddy’s cum, aren’t you?” he teases breathlessly.

“Please daddy!” you whine again, not at all ashamed of the desperation in your voice.

Joel grunts and his wrist faulters again as he stares at your awaiting tongue. You wait as patiently as you can, subtly trying to squeeze your thighs together searching for any bit of friction you can get.

“Fuck angel you look so good like this” he groans, his hips involuntary rolling up to meet his fist. “On your knees waiting for daddy to cum like a good fuckin’ slut.”

You glow under his praise and start to say something, but Joel’s breathing starts getting heavier and his grunts and moans are getting louder and before you can say anything, he’s thrusting his hip forward to slide his tip past your lips.

You instantly wrap your lips around him and he doesn’t push in any further, just keeps the tip in your warm, awaiting mouth, his cock pulsing as he unloads rope after rope of hot cum. You try your best to keep eye contact with him, but the feeling of his hot, salty release on your tongue has your eyelids fluttering as your head starts to go dizzy and floaty.

You also try your best to keep his cum on your tongue, knowing that there was a reason that he didn’t push in all the way and fuck your throat. But it’s so much, it’s always so fucking much that you can’t stop some of it from sliding down your throat.

“That’s my good girl, My go- ah fuck baby” Joel cuts himself off with a careless moan. You can feel your slick starting to leak out of you and down your thighs at the sound.

“My good fuckin’ girl. All fuckin’ mine.”

He hisses when you dip your tongue into his oversensitive slit and reluctantly pulls out of your mouth. You press your lips together, keeping your mouth closed and look up at him expectantly. He smiles down at you, his scowl gone and replaced by a lopsided, sated smile.

Then he brings a thumb up to your bottom lip and tugs down softly and whispers “Show me.”

You comply, opening your mouth and proudly showing him the small puddle of his cum on your tongue.

“Now swallow, baby.”

You do as your told, closing your mouth and swallowing, then opening again to show him.

“Good girl” he praises gently. “So good for your daddy.”

You beam up at him, absolutely melting under his praise. He removes his hand from your hair and reaches out to help you stand up again. He straightens out your dress, making sure to “accidentally” brush his fingers through the mess between your legs.

“Now,” he starts, tugging the straps of your dress so that they sit evenly on your shoulders. “Go out there and talk to those boys again with the taste of my cum on your tongue.”

Your skin heats up and you look at him with wide, silently pleading eyes. Those men were only feet away from the bathroom door. If they didn’t see you two go in together, they definitely heard you.

And that’s exactly what Joel intended. So, he just gives you a devilish grin then pat your bum.

“Go on, sweetheart. Be a good girl. For your daddy.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #Joel miller #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal smut #javiscigarette

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luvhughes43 · 6 months

Text

is it over now? | jack hughes

part two of the beginning

au masterlist⭐️

note: i switched to first person pov for this story just to test it out. Inbox me if you’d want to go back to 3rd person.

warnings: pregnancy, birth

word count: 4.7k

the doctors waiting room is cold and uninviting. i stare up at all the pregnancy posters that litter the walls, and soon my gaze falls to all the mothers and all the fathers. they all sit, talking quietly amongst themselves. the women are gorgeously radiant, and if this were any other time i’d compare their beauty to mine.

instead, i linger on the way they interact with their husbands, boyfriends, whatever. small touches, whispers, and smiles all burn into my mind like a useless cd.

“y/n l/n?” a nurse in all blue interrupts my thoughts, she gestures for me to follow her and i do.

like the waiting room, the small room i’m brought into is cold. i wonder briefly what jacks doing right now. if he had gotten my message or if he’s still asleep. i try to imagine his reaction but i can’t bring myself to conjure up an accurate depiction of him. everything is off - and i fear if i keep trying to imagine this man who’s not my jack, that i’ll somehow forget the real one.

“we’re just going to do some tests, all very basic things. i need to know your medical history, and i’ll have to do a complete physical assessment,” a doctor walks into the room, clipboard in hand. she doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but I absentmindedly nod to her words anyway.

“Okay so, is this your first pregnancy?” the doctor asks.

“Yes” i nod.

“And, do you have any medical history I should be aware of? Past procedures, family history, etc” the doctor looks up from their notes and i pause.

“Uh, i -” my cell phone buzzes in my purse and i quickly reach for it. Its a notification from sephora, something about how there’s a last minute sale and that i should buy some overpriced body spray.

“I had my tonsils taken out when I was five, but other than that i’ve had no other procedures” my words come out shaky, as if i’m confused. i turn my phone over again, willing for another notification to pop up. It’s 11:40am, and jack is definitely awake by now.

the doctor calls a nurse in to prep for the examination. everythings a blur as i lean back. the nurse, short with reddish-blonde hair, has to ask me to lift up the bottom of my shirt twice.

“And if you look over here, this is where your baby is,” the doctor is confident in her speech as she shifts the little wand around my stomach.

the appointment was nightmarish.

the nurse sent me home with a little packet of information sheets, all different colours and all about different things. i don’t want to look at them, so i shove them into the bottom of my purse when i get out of the office.

⋆ ★

vivienne always made sure to wake up an hour before jack. she liked to make herself a fancy coffee with her espresso machine, and she liked to plan out her events for the day. she had decided that they’d go to the grocery store sometime before noon, hit the mall for an outfit to wear to dinner, and then of course dinner with viviennes friends at 7.

after her coffee, Vivienne tiptoed her way back into her bedroom. she was proud of the fact that Jack liked to stay here. she made sure her bedding was always fresh and clean when he was over, and she made sure to spray a little bit of her perfume on his pillows so he’d get used to falling asleep to the scent of her.

Vivienne grabbed a hold of Jack's phone on his nightstand, and slowly slid it off the side of the table and into the palm of her hand. she turned it over, bombarded with the amount of notifications that littered his phone screen. she slid up, quickly typing his passcode. she had to be mindful of her next moves. she didn’t have long to do her routine digging.

“It’s not really fair for you to be with vivienne if you still have feelings for y/n”

“will you drop it? you were the one who told me to go for viv”

“Jack-”

“No! Dawson, you were the one who begged me to move on. I am. What happened with me and y/n-"Jack cuts himself off. “what happened.. It’s done now. leave me alone”

Vivienne recalled the conversation she overheard a few weeks ago and she couldn’t shake it from her mind. So, she did what any girlfriend would do and searched the girls username on instagram.

She hadn’t thought y/n would be any type of problem in hers and Jack's relationship. That was until Jack and Vivienne were laying in bed, with Jack wanting to show Vivienne a picture he had taken a while ago on a roadie. He was scrolling past his photo albums when she saw it. The “it” being a photo album titled “❤️” filled with pictures of jack and y/n at art galleries and whatnot.

Ynuser: 1 dm request

Accept | Delete

Vivienne clicked onto the dm, and when she saw the words pregnant and yours her blood ran cold. She angled her body away from Jack, and with his reassuring snores clouding her mind, she reread the dm again.

Jack, I don't even know how to tell you this. It doesn’t feel right. But, I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. I’ve booked an appointment with my obgyn for tomorrow and they’re going to confirm the test for me. You're the only person that I've been with since we’ve gotten together so it’s for sure yours. If you need a paternity test or anything at all just let me know and we can sort it out. Please reach out and we can talk about this in person. I’m sorry.

“Fuck” Vivienne cursed as she clicked Jacks phone off. She turned around and stared at the man in question while debating her options.

Letting Jack find the message on his own was the most obvious answer but… would he still want to be with her when he found out about the baby? If it even is his, Vivienne rolled her eyes at the thought.

The next logical option was to delete the message and block the girl. Jack would never have to know, and Vivienne would just have to be the perfect girlfriend for the next little while. She’d make him his favourite foods, dress extra hot, and do everything in her power to make sure he forgot about his ex.

Vivienne turned Jack's phone on again, and without a second thought, swiftly declined the message request before blocking the girl.

To make sure her tracks were completely cleared, she searched the girls name up in his contact list and blocked her there as well.

And, just as quickly as Vivienne had picked up her boyfriends phone, she had set it back down.

⋆ ★

After the appointment, I was stuck in meetings for the rest of the day with no opportunities to check my phone. During my appointed bathroom breaks, I was too anxious to check. My hands trembled as I hovered over the instagram app, too nervous to see if he had read the message.

I thought about the next message that I would send all day. Would I send the doctors confirmation? My next appointment date? The reason why I found out about the pregnancy so late?

When I got out from work, I decided to walk the 45 minutes home instead of taking the Subway. I hoped that the semi-fresh air would clear my mind.

By the time I unlocked the front door of my apartment, it was 6:45pm. Jack would have gotten out of practice, and he would probably be at home grilling himself a piece of chicken while his rice cooked.

I pull my boots off and wander into my bathroom. i shut the door behind me, giving myself some privacy from my own space. When I close my eyes, all the memories of Jack and I flicker through my mind like one of those plastic children's cameras.

I take a deep breath, before finally pulling my phone out of my pocket and turning it on. I click into instagram and my stomach drops.

jackhughes

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what the fuck was i going to do.

⋆ ★

“Claudia!” my voice was hoarse from crying as I pounded on my best friend's door with my fists. I had run all the way to Claudia's apartment, and luckily someone was walking into her apartment complex so I didn't have to buzz in.

Claudia's door swung open, and she immediately pulled me inside and into her arms. “What's wrong?” she practically cooed, not a stranger to my breakdowns.

“J-jack he-” I couldn't stomach the rest.

“Babe, slow down… breathe..” Claudia stressed as she started doing breathing exercises for me to copy. I followed her movements, and when I was deemed calm enough she moved me over to sit on her couch.

I take a few minutes to recover before explaining what happened.

“I’m going to kill him” Claudia sneered after I had explained the pregnancy, the message, and how my ex boyfriend-turned-baby daddy had blocked me.

“What am I going to do?” I was crying again. I was bordering on exhaustion as I leaned my head against the back of Claudia's couch and wailed.

My hand found its place at the top of my stomach, where the faintest baby bump had begun to form.

⋆ ★

vivienne just added to their story!

vivienne

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, alixearle, and others

vivienne mr nhl man

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user01 VIVIENNE HAS A BF??

user02 viv baby who is it

user04 vivnation lost

user05 jack and trevor liking ohhh wow…

user06 is it jack?

user07 i thought jack has a gf?

user06 he was seen out with a girl a few times months ago but that was it lol

user08 the nhl girlies lost

⋆ ★

ynuser

liked by claudia, and others

ynuser my baby🤍

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claudia im a proud honorary aunt❤️

user00 congrats!!

user01 Congratulations on your pregnancy sweetie! We have to get together sometime soon😘❤️

⋆ ★

the pregnancy was lonely. It was all long hours at work, quiet doctor appointments, and late nights binge sessions watching gossip girl with whatever craving plagued my mind.

I tried my hardest to stay away from social media, my heart cracking a little more every time jack came across my feed with his rumoured new girlfriend. of course, i knew it wasn’t a rumour, which just made everything more miserable.

“Do you want to know the gender?” the ultrasound tech asked as she shielded the sonogram screen away from my view.

I nod, “yes, please”

Claudia squeezes my hand. “Are you sure? I can throw you a gender reveal party if you want? Or we can do something with just the two of us?”

I didn’t want to hurt Claudias feelings, but it wouldn’t be the same without jack.

I must have took too long to answer though, because the ultrasound tech looked at me with pity filled eyes as she said, “i’ll put the gender info in an envelope for you to take home”

All i could do was nod.

⋆ ★

“Im sorry, blair.. But you lost the baby”

“where’s chuck?”

“B, he lost a lot of blood, and he never woke up”

Gossip girl season 5 played in the background as I picked at my newest pregnancy craving, strawberry cupcakes from a bakery off seventh ave.

i sighed heavily as i continued watching the show. this has got to be the saddest episode… i thought as blair started praying for chucks survival. As the scene went on, tears pricked my own eyes as i thought about the past five months.

i was almost done with my 2nd trimester, and i was still refusing to acknowledge my pregnancy. I felt as if i were walking through water, i was restricted in all of my movements and my mind was cloudy like i had just spent all day in the michigan summer sun.

The episode finished, with blair telling chuck that she loved him but that she couldn’t be with him and that she couldnt tell him why.

When the screen turned black and i was faced with my reflection, i started sobbing.

Heavy tears rolled down my cheeks and fell onto my duvet, which turned the cream coloured blanket into spots of grey.

Without thinking, I rolled out of bed and threw on a thick sweater that I found strewn against a chair backing. I wandered out into my entryway, shoving on a pair of my mini uggs as I searched high and low for that stupid little envelope that my tech gave me.

It was in my purse, hidden behind a hundred other little things. Once the envelope was grasped firmly in my hands, i ripped open my door and rushed down onto the street.

I didn’t have a lot of time to think this through. If i placed the order now, everything would be okay and fine...

Truth be told, i was afraid that if i didn’t order a gender reveal cupcake that i would be doing my baby a disservice. I promised to myself that i would be able to do this without jacks support, and yet here i was crumbling under the pressure of motherhood.

The bakery shop chimed with my arrival, and then i was in the small line up to make an order.

“Hey, what can i get for you tod-”

“Can i get a gender reveal cupcake? Or one of those little cakes?” i ask, thrusting my envelope into the guy at the registers hands.

He looked taken aback before responding very politely, “i’m sorry, you’re going to have to make an order online”

“Oh,” my shoulders sag in disappointment. I hadn't thought far enough ahead.

the guy stared at the crumpled up envelope in his hand, and then back at me. “Why don’t you go sit down and i’ll figure something out for you,” his voice was kind as he noticed my dishevelled state.

I nod, and then move to an empty seat in the corner of the bakery. Another employee was sweeping the floors, and i realize that the store must be due to close soon. I need to pull myself together…

About ten minutes later, the guy from before walked over with a little white box in his hand. On top of the box sat my envelope which was now cleanly cut into.

“It’s not the prettiest thing in the world,” the guy chuckled as he placed the small box in front of me, “but it should work”

“Thank you,” i stutter, pulling a crisp $10 bill out of my pocket and handing it over to the guy.

At first he shakes his head in an attempt to decline the money, but I insist he takes it anyway.

back at home, i get comfy at my kitchen table where i finally open up my box. It was a vanilla cupcake with white vanilla frosting.

I take a deep breath before taking a small bite, and when i swallow, i see the remaining pink icing that filled the inside of the cupcake.

“we’re having a little girl,” i whispered, tears sliding down my cheeks as i rub my bump soothingly.

⋆ ★

Jack Hughes was stuck. He felt bad for Vivienne and he felt bad for himself. It wasn’t Viviennes fault that his attention was elsewhere because on paper, Vivienne Aiden was probably who most would consider his perfect match.

Vivienne was gorgeous, she had an online career going for her, and her apartment did smell amazing… but something just wasn’t right.

When she fell asleep beside him, Jack would pull out his phone and scroll through his photo album full of pictures of his ex-girlfriend. He would wonder what she was doing, what new journalist piece she was working on, and most importantly, if she was happy. He couldn’t bear searching her up online, for fear of seeing she had moved on (which, let's be honest, is very hypocritical of him), so Jack settled with his photo album.

When Jack finally closed his eyes for the night, he imagined the sleeping figure next to him was his y/n. Vanilla scent was swapped with coconut, a windy spring turned into an endless summer, and the lingering emptiness felt like coming home after a long roadie.

And in the morning, when y/ns lovely green eyes woke him up, he would blink to find Vivienne staring back at him, and whatever relief he had accustomed himself with in sleep came crashing down again.

⋆ ★

ynuser posted on their story!

jackhughes posted on their story!

Vivienne posted on their story!

⋆ ★

Vivienne wasn’t an idiot. she could feel the small shifts in Jack's behaviour. He was slowly distancing himself from her and she wouldn't allow that to happen.

Therefore, she sent him a teasing photo, planned a romantic dinner at her apartment, and took care of business.

Create an Account

User: user257483475

ynuser

Dm Request

User257483475: how does it feel knowing that you’re going to be a single mom?

User257483475: must be tough knowing that the daddy doesn’t want it

User257483475: if i were you i wouldn’t even try

Read

⋆ ★

“I can’t believe you're having a little girl!” Claudia squealed as she met me at the front of a baby store. I was now 6 months along, and I hadn’t done any of the necessary baby shopping yet.

We walked into the store, light pinks and blues and purples clouding my vision. “I can't believe it either! A little girl…” I smile, picking up a little onesie.

Claudia gets a basket, and we start to make our way through the store. “Have you thought of any names yet?” she asks as she holds up what might've been the cutest baby dress i’ve ever seen.

I placed the dress in the basket. “I’ve been toying with a few names but it just feels strange” I pick up another little dress and put it in the basket as well. “I’m sure once I see the nursery all together it’ll feel a little more real and i’ll be able to pick something out”

Claudia smiles at me sympathetically before taking the shopping basket out of my hand and guiding me towards the furniture section.

“I was thinking-” my phone buzzes causing me to pause. I pull out my phone, only to see a few instagram notifications.

User257483475: viviennes so pretty, i bet you're real jealous huh?

User257483475: jack didn't even want to post you publicly and now he wont even acknowledge his baby… he never loved you.

User257483475: i wish you the worst xx

Read

“y/n? What were you thinking?” Claudia asks, immediately noticing my pause. She walks over to me, one hand on my shoulder as she tries to gauge my facial expressions. “Are you okay?”

I don't want to speak, and so I thrust my phone into Claudia's hands.

She gasps when she reads the first message from a few weeks ago, and I can feel her tense beside me as she lets her hand drop from my shoulder.

“What the fuck!” she seethes as she stares at all the messages littering my phone.

“How do they know the baby’s Jacks? How do they even know I'm pregnant? My account’s private!” I utter as I close my eyes.

“Who’s Vivienne?” Claudia asks as she switches out of my dms and onto the search page. I watch her type in Vivienne's name.

“She’s Jack’s girlfriend,” I reply just as Claudia presses on her instagram account. The newest picture on her feed was of her and Jack at some cafe… I felt nauseous.

“Well, she’s obviously the one sending the messages” my best friend states firmly. Great I thought. Could my life get any more fucked up?

That night at home, I easily verifiy that it was Vivienne behind the account. For all the scheming she liked to do, she wasn’t very good at covering her tracks.

First, I used my laptop to try and log into her main instagram account. When I got the password wrong, I clicked the option for instagram to send a code for password resetting via email. The email, half unblurred, showed up on screen. Then, i moved onto the account who’s been sending me nasty messages. Repeated the process, and wouldn’t you know! Vivienne Aiden didn’t doesn’t know how to make a fake email for her fake account, that she uses to harass her boyfriend's ex! Nice.

With that little confirmation, I blocked both her and the account she’s using to send me messages.

⋆ ★

My baby’s nursery is painted a soft pink. Her crib is a beige wood, and there’s white flowy curtains with a blackout curtain set underneath. flower prints decorate the walls, and my baby’s name is highlighted on a beautiful homemade blanket which was gifted to me by one of my coworkers.

“Are you ready, baby?” my mom asks to which I nod. I watch her silently as her hands weave between different sets of baby clothes.

She’s helping me get the nursery finished for babygirls birth next month.

“I’m nervous, but i’m ready,” I smile, waddling over to the blush pink rocking chair that sits in the corner of the room.

⋆ ★

“i’m not ready! i need jack!” i cry, squeezing my eyes shut tight as pain overtook my body. i could hear the nurses faintly in the background of my own thoughts, shouting something about an excess of blood.

a group of nurses stand around me, all shouting different orders to one another. “ma’am you’re bleeding-“

“i need, i just need-“

a sweet looking nurse cut me off. “sweetie, you’re going to be alright. just breathe, i’ll be right here with you this whole time!” she grabs ahold of my hand to which i squeeze tightly.

the room spins and my whole body feels cold. I could tell that the nurses started going about their business from all the pinching and poking that was going on, but i couldn’t figure out where all the pain was coming from.

⋆ ★

“Mommy?” I whispered. My mom whipped her head in my direction upon my words.

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, tears lingering in her eyes as she sits on the edge of my hospital bed. she grabs ahold of my hand.

“Is…” I start to ask about my daughter but a cry falls from my lips.

My mom grabs my hand tighter and brushes my hair out of my face. “She’s in the NICU, but the nurses say she’s doing well”

“Can I see her?” my voice is hoarse. My mom jumps up from the bed and fills an empty paper cup with water. She passes the cup to me, and I gratefully drink its contents.

“I’ll go get a nurse, okay? She’ll tell you everything you need to know”

I had been asleep for roughly ten hours after my daughters birth. The doctor told me that the pain I woke up to last night was from blood clots, which is the reason behind all the blood and the premature birth. Luckily though, I was pretty close to full term, and I got to the hospital at the perfect time therefore babygirl would only have to stay at the NICU for a few short weeks to monitor her development.

“what’s her name, sweetheart?” my mom whispered softly to me while her hand ghosted across hairline.

“Leighton Rowe LN,” I replied sleepily as I stared at my baby in my arms. Leightons sweet face suddenly made all the pain worth it.

my mom brushed my damp hair out of my face. “that’s beautiful,” she cooed, and when she gestured towards the baby I tiredly nodded.

as my mom took my baby out of my arms to coddle, i let my eyes close and then i softly drifted off to sleep.

⋆ ★

It was a few months later when it happened. claudia was at my apartment, watching leighton while i ran around the city to get some much needed errands done. i stop at my favourite coffee shop, a place that i hadn’t been to since jack and i broke up.

i order my usual, a mocha to go, and when i turn to leave jack had just opened the door. I stumble back, not prepared to see jack in the flesh. He looks familiar and yet completely different.

“y/n,” he greets me, his tone uncertain as he takes a step towards me. How dare he.

“If your girlfriend sends me one more fucking text i swear i’ll ruin her life” i start, my words threatening as i let the weight of viviennes words fall onto my shoulders. for months shes been creating new accounts and messaging me, and despite hitting the "block all and future accounts" feature she still managed to harass me.

“I get that you don’t want to have a baby, but she’s here, and I'm capable of doing it without you. I have been doing it without you. So get your girlfriend to stop harassing me or i’ll press charges,” i spit out, pushing past a shell-shocked jack and storming out onto the street.

⋆ ★

“I have a baby!” jack shouts angrily, kicking one of vivienne's wooden dinning room chairs. “You hid my baby from me!”

Vivienne stares, glassy eyed as she watches her boyfriend stomp around her apartment. “Jack, i didn’t mean for it to go this far i-”

“You what? What was the plan here?” he shouts again, running a hand frustratingly through his hair. Jack stops, whipping around to face vivienne again. “Show me the messages.”

“What?” she cries.

“y/n said you were sending her messages. Show me them” jack repeats, causing vivienne to jump up in alarm. If he saw even half of the things she sent…

Jack storms up to vivienne who immediately pulls her phone out of her pocket. She switches onto one of her many burner accounts used to send y/n messages.

Jack sat on the couch, hunched over while he read through every single message. He felt sick.

he hates you

It must suck knowing that your child's dad doesn't want her

Jacks going to be the best daddy to our future baby… its too bad he didn’t want that for you.

“Jack we can fix this, i swear i’ll do better and-”

Jack stood up abruptly, letting viviennes phone tumble to the ground with a loud thud. “We’re- we’re past done. I don't even know what to say to you,” jack stutters, tears falling steadily down his cheeks.

“Baby, i’m so sorry” vivienne cries. she tries to reach out to jack, be he swats her hands away.

Jack backs away, and without another word he leaves viviennes apartment with the slam of a door. he had to make this right to y/n and his... baby.

part three

#journalist au!#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 9 months

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Three.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky get closer. Your choice only gets harder.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au.

Word Count - 6.4k

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut. cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Author's Note - angels, i can only apologise for the wait!! i've had some stuff going on, and i was on vacation, so this has taken a while. thank you so much for your patience, kindness and support on Honey Girl - it means everything.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! i will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sunlight seeps through the stained glass windows, murmured chatter echoing off the stone walls around you.

You smooth down your dress and adjust your bracelet, smiling at the rare sight of your family and friends all gathered together in one place. Your parents are sat on either side of you, all of you eagerly awaiting the beginning of this exciting occasion.

Man, you love weddings. You always have. So much happiness and joy in one short day, everyone excited about the possibility of eternal love.

You're still sat waiting when you realise, with quiet uncertainty, that you're not sure whose wedding this is. All of your family is here, as well as many of your friends. So why do you feel so confused all of a sudden?

The Priest gestures for all of the guests to stand just as the first notes of the Wedding March begin to reverberate around the room. You turn around, craning your neck to try and get a glimpse of the bride.

You don't know her, but she's... beautiful. Long, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, white silk dress hugging her frame perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve. She has kind eyes, warm and brown, and a blinding smile that's infectious and dazzling. Her skin glows in the stained glass sunlight, illuminating her in an ethereal radiance. She has a beauty that belongs on the cover of a magazine, or on the ceilings of the Sistine Chapel.

You eagerly turn back towards the altar to find out who her lucky groom is. He has his back to you, dark suit stretched across his broad shoulders. He turns, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.

It's Bucky.

You're panicking, suddenly. You want to scream, shout, run over to them and object in any way possible. Your Mom grabs your hand tightly from one side, as your Dad does the same on the other.

"Mama, I have to-"

"You can't, sweetheart. It's not fair."

"You made your choice," your Dad says kindly, not an ounce of malice in his voice. "Now you have to let him make his."

White hot tears drip down your cheeks as your chest rises and falls with frantic frustration. This isn't how you wanted things to go. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The lights in the church are suddenly too bright, the wooden pews too hard. There's an incessant knocking noise coming from somewhere in front of you, loud and overwhelming. You swear someone's shouting your name in the distance, among all of the chaos.

"Honey? It's Bucky. Are you okay?"

Why is he asking if you're okay? Of course you're not okay, you're in this living nightmare.

Nightmare.

You're having a nightmare.

You wake with a startled gasp, cheeks wet and warm, sweat dripping down your back. The knocking hasn't stopped, in fact, now it's even louder.

"Sugar? Are you in there? Can you let me in?"

It's Bucky. Bucky's here.

You throw yourself out of bed and race through your apartment, swinging open the door. Bucky is stood on the other side, still in his navy plaid pyjama pants, sweater thrown over himself haphazardly. You look down at yourself and see that you're only wearing an old t shirt, legs bare and feet cold on the wooden floor.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently, stepping forward into your space. "I had this horrible feeling. It was like... like I was panicking. I knew it wasn't me so I figured it must have been you. What's wrong, sweets?"

He snakes his fingers around your wrist and pulls you into him gently, wrapping his arms around you completely. You relax into his embrace, inhaling the warm, cosy scent of him. All the fear leaves your body, and you cling to him tighter, worried that he'll disappear any minute.

"I had a nightmare," you whisper into the soft cotton of his chest.

He pulls back to look at you, large, calloused hands cradling your tear stained cheeks.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You deliberate for a second before shaking your head softly.

"If you change your mind, you know I'll always listen to you. Any time. I mean it."

"I know," you say quietly. "Thank you."

You step away from him and towards the couch, where you curl up with your legs tucked underneath you. Bucky walks over to the kitchen, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. He makes two mugs of tea, handing one into your outstretched hands carefully. He shuffles to sit next to you, pressed into your side, arm slung around your shoulders. You relax into the broadness of him, the comfort he brings, the safety. The two of you fall asleep intertwined, warm and content, wrapped completely in each other and the blanket of your love.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're both startled awake by a phone ringing. The unwelcome melody is coming from somewhere between where you're nestled together, limbs intertwined and bodies connected.

"It's-fuck- is that mine or yours?" Bucky's mumbling as he scrambles amongst the couch cushions.

"Yours, I think," you reply, finding your phone on the floor where you've kicked it in your sleep.

Bucky finally finds the source of the noise, trapped in the arm of the couch. He presses the green button reluctantly, still disorientated from being woken so suddenly.

"Hello?"

That deep, raspy grumble of his morning voice is enough to make you melt back into your original position, the tone golden and honeyed. You slide back towards him and tuck yourself into his side, the two of you fitting together perfectly.

You can hear muffled talking on the other end, which takes Bucky a minute to comprehend. When he does, his eyes widen, and he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

It's your Dad, he mouths silently, muscles in his body going rigid.

Fuck, you mouth back, praying that he can't hear the two sets of heaving lungs on your side of the line.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there. Sounds good, man. See you then."

Bucky's about to hang up the phone, when your Dad makes a noise of complaint. You can hear your Mom yelling something at him in the background.

"They're coming here," he whispers to you as quietly as possible, covering the phone speaker. "Fuck, what do we do?"

"Tell them you're already here... borrowing something. Or giving something back."

You shoot him a look that says trust me. Trust you, he does.

"I'm with her right now. I can ask, if you want? Yeah, just dropping off a couple of tools - last time I saw her, she mentioned a few loose screws in one of the kitchen cabinets. Easy fix."

You can hear your Dad singing his praises and expressing his gratitude, and your Mom asking Bucky to put you on the phone. He passes it to you carefully, as if it's a bomb, bound to explode at any given second.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hey, sweetheart. Bucky get everything sorted for you?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been great. Fixed it in two minutes flat. I just didn't have the right kind of screwdriver."

"He's one of the good ones, huh?" she chuckles. "We called to tell you that you have to come to our get together later. I know it's a little impromptu, but we have so much produce from the garden, too much for just us. We'll have dinner in the backyard, and drinks, and play some games. And we'll tell you all about the wedding!"

Your Mother has a gift for hosting. She's a people person through and through, warm hearted and kind spirited in nature. She loves having people over at the house, loves cooking for them, loves choosing wine pairings for her dishes and explaining each one carefully. It's a gift. She's a gift.

"I'd love to come, Mama. Do you want me to bring anything? I can make desserts?"

"Oh, darling, would you? I'm making a strawberry and cream tart, but you know it's nothing compared to your talent."

"Oh hush," you chide playfully. "I'll see what I can conjure up. Maybe I'll even rope Bucky in to help."

You wink at him cheekily and he laughs, the sound settling gently in your ribs like a caged bird singing it's morning song.

"Glad to be of service!" he yells into the phone, his right hand moving to rest at the nape of your neck. He massages the muscle there gently, and the tension leaves your body just as quick as it arrived.

"What time, Mama?"

"Everyone's arriving at seven o'clock, but you and Bucky feel free to come any time. Did you hear that, Bucky? Any time!"

"Loud and clear," he chuckles. "See you soon, Lori."

"Bye, you two. Call if you need anything. Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too."

She hangs up the phone and you're plunged into silence, the two of you panting like you've just ran a marathon.

"Fuck," Bucky breathes.

"Yeah, fuck," you exhale. "Now my parents think I'm not capable of fixing a loose screw."

"It was the first thing I thought of! Sorry, honey. Didn't mean to undermine your DIY skills."

You fake angry, but you can't keep it up while he's looking at you like you hung the moon just for him. The corners of your lips twitch, and before you know it, you're grinning at each other like idiots.

"Now I have to make dessert," you laugh. "There go my plans for the day."

"You offered."

"I panicked!"

"I'll give you a hand, if you need it. I don't have to be at work for another hour and a half."

"It's okay," you reassure, reaching out to link your fingers with his. He's still absentmindedly tracing patterns across the back of your neck, the sensation almost soothing you back to sleep.

You relax into Bucky, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. He's so warm, and soft, and broad. You realise that there's been two occasions recently where you've slept like the dead. Both were in Bucky's arms.

"You wanna help me make breakfast?" you whisper, careful not to disrupt the golden glow of the morning sunlight. The orange hue of the room feels fragile, sacred even. You don't want to ruin it.

"Of course. I can't bake, but I can cook. I have my uses."

"That, you do," you tease, leaning back into him as he places a tender kiss on top of your head. If you could bottle up this feeling of complete tranquility, you would. For a moment, everything else disappears. It's just you and your soulmate. Nothing else matters.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky, as it turns out, is a decent chef.

Sure, he's not Michelin star level, but neither are you.

You're sat on the counter, bare legs dangling over the side as you watch him move around your kitchen with ease, as if it's his own. You can't help but notice the way he belongs here. Like he's been here all along.

Bucky leaves everything cooking on the stove to come to stand in between your legs, warm hands splayed across your thighs. He rubs comforting circles into your skin while his steely blue eyes look at you intently.

"You okay?"

You smile at him softly, draping your arms around his neck to play with his hair.

"I'm fine."

You're not fine. The words California and Bakery and Dream Job and Bucky keep circling around your mind like horses on a fairground carousel. The more time you spend with Bucky, the more your Tethering makes sense. The two of you work. This connection you have is made of threads of gold, braided into both of your souls.

"You've been quiet all morning. And... I can feel it, you know. This anxious, sinking feeling, deep in my chest. There's something really bothering you, honey."

You take a deep breath and grasp onto his shoulders tightly, grounding yourself back down to Earth.

"I'm okay. There's just a couple of things I need to work out, and I think they're giving me some anxiety. I'm just stressed, I think."

"Are you trying to convince yourself, or me? Because you're not doing a very good job of either."

He's only teasing, but the way he's looking at you makes your breath hitch. It's as if everytime he looks into your eyes, he's also looking into your soul. It's like he can read your mind. Your heart is covered in braille and he's running his fingertips over it gently. You suddenly feel very exposed, shrinking down into yourself on the counter.

"Hey, pretty girl. Look at me. Please."

He uses his finger and thumb to tilt your face towards him, holding onto your chin gently.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to push you, or anything. I'm just worried. It's weird, being able to feel what you feel. I think I'm still getting used to it."

You smile at him carefully, running your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Buck. It's just... overwhelming, I guess. Nothing's a secret between me and you anymore."

You both know that's not true.

"You know, if there's anyone who understands how you feel... it's me."

"You're right," you laugh, "on account of the whole half-of-my-soul thing, I guess."

"Exactly. It's scary, but you're not alone in this. The two of us will figure it out. I know we will."

He has so much faith in you it makes you want to cry.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, firm and reassuring. It's like he's reminding you that he's right here, in front of you. He's not going anywhere.

You might be, though.

"We've got all the time in the world, remember?" he murmurs against your mouth.

"All the time in the world," you echo, tucking your head into his chest.

He holds you close until your breakfast starts to burn. The impending fire on the stove is nothing compared to the impending fire that feels like your future.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you eat on your balcony, tangled together on the love seat chair. The sun is beating down, beams of light illuminating Bucky, setting him aglow. He looks like an angel, the golden hue creating a halo around him. You wonder for a second if he is. An angel sent just for you.

"Oh hey, did I tell you?" he asks, turning as much as he can in his spot to face you.

"Tell me what?"

"Leonie and Eli are having a baby."

"No way!" you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his hands in excitement. "I'm so happy for them. Man, it feels like yesterday that they found each other."

"Right? Hell of a story, too."

"Rough one, though. I mean, imagine it. You introduce your brother to your new girlfriend, and turns out they're soulmates."

Bucky's laughing so hard that he's clutching at his stomach, shaking the chair and you along with it.

"That's fucked," he wheezes. "It's so fucked."

You can't contain your own laughter, not when his is so contagious.

"It's not funny," you breathe, but you're giggling so hard your sides hurt.

"Not funny at all," he chuckles, pinching your thigh.

"If you think about it, our Tethering is a little fucked up too. I mean, you're my Dad's best friend."

"Yeah... not ideal, huh?" he teases, still laughing.

"Not ideal at all, really," you agree playfully.

You sit in the quiet for a moment before you speak again.

"What do you think they'll say? When we tell them, eventually?"

Bucky thinks for a moment, cogs turning in his brain. He considers carefully before he answers you.

"...I think they'll be happy for us. Your Mom'll be excited. It might be a little harder for your Dad to navigate, I guess, but... he'll be okay."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

The rational part of your brain is telling you that he is. They'll be ecstatic that the two of you have found your person. The celebrations will be endless.

But there's a tiny, nagging piece of your mind that won't let you rest. It's taunting you, telling you that they're going to be confused, shocked, upset. That they won't accept the two of you. You can't lose them over a soulmate. You won't.

You clear your throat and stand from your spot, picking up your empty plates.

"Don't you have to be at work soon? I doubt you can show up in pajamas."

"I'm the boss, pretty girl. I can wear whatever the hell I want."

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he relents.

"Fine. I need to change. But I'll see you later? At your Mom's?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you there."

You walk Bucky to the door, opening it expectantly. He looks at you for a moment too long, still unconvinced by your reassurances from earlier.

"If you need anything, just call me. You know you can talk to me anytime, yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirm, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his t shirt. "I know, Buck. Thanks."

He leans in to kiss your forehead before leaving you in the doorway, more confused than ever.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You commit your day to baking your feelings away.

As soon as Bucky left your apartment, the space felt empty, incomplete. Much like you do. As much as you hate to admit it, you feel better when Bucky is around. You know it's the whole Tethering thing, but still. Your heart feels fuller, the world seems brighter, the sun on your skin is warmer. Everything's easier when your soulmate is next to you.

You click on the radio, a soft, jazzy melody filling your kitchen. You begin to measure your ingredients, picking up bowls, utensils and your piping bags as you go.

This is the only thing you've ever felt like you were made to do. Sure, you've had hobbies as you've grown up. You're a good swimmer, you enjoyed soccer, you weren't too bad at dance. But nothing compared to baking.

Which at first, sounded ridiculous. Grown ups would ask you what you wanted to be when you were older, and when you said Baker, they'd laugh in that patronising way that adults do. It didn't stop you, though.

Your Grandma bought you a half empty recipe book for your tenth birthday. You can create your own and add them, she'd said. You'll be publishing a book with your name on in no time.

Your parents took you on a European vacation when you were sixteen. In Amsterdam, you passed this tiny little bakery, tucked away down a back street. It was red brick with a big window in the front, showcasing the cakes and endless sweet treats they had to offer. When you peered through the glass, you watched as the woman who you assumed was the owner went about her day. She looked so happy to be serving her customers. You decided then and there that was going to be you one day. A Bakery of your own. A happy life.

Which is why you're having such a hard time. You haven't talked to Stella since she called you, and you're worried she's going to change her mind if she doesn't hear from you soon. You haven't talked to Bucky about it either, even though he presented you with opportunity after opportunity this morning. It's starting to feel like the walls are caving in.

So, you do what you do best. Bake.

The day passes by quicker than anticipated, lost in a cloud of cinnamon and powdered sugar. You're wiping down your counters when your phone rings, Bucky's name lighting up your screen.

"Hi, Buck."

"Hey, pretty baby. You want me to pick you up later? I'm passing your place anyway."

He's always thinking of you so selflessly. The thought makes your heart stutter for a moment.

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Course not. I can drop by at six? Gives us enough time to help your Mom set up."

"Sounds perfect. Thanks, Buck."

"See you then, honey."

You hang up the phone and realise the hours have completely escaped you. You jump in the shower and do your hair and makeup in record time, miraculously. You're stood in a towel in front of your closet when you feel Bucky pull up outside. The tension in your chest eases a little, and you take a deep, full breath. He knocks on the door, and you completely relax.

"Hey, you," he greets, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

You take a step back to look at him, and almost lose your balance. He looks ridiculously handsome. He's wearing a dark short sleeve button up that hugs his biceps so tightly, you're worried it might burst open. His jeans cling to his thighs deliciously, and the leather jacket slung over his shoulder adds a ruggedness that most men couldn't pull off. Your eyes rake over him slowly, taking him in from top to bottom. He lets you devour him, smirk never leaving his lips. Eventually, you meet his gaze.

"You see something you like?"

"You clean up real nice, Barnes," you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

You untangle yourself from him before you jump his bones, and walk back to your closet. He follows you and sits on the edge of your bed, watching your every move like a hawk.

You pick out a sage green sundress that skims your thighs and hugs you in all the right places. It's a warm night, and your Mom loves to start a bonfire when it's cold.

"Close your eyes, playboy," you scold jokingly, laughing when he flops backwards to stare at your ceiling.

You slip the dress on, and realise it has a zipper at the back that you can't reach.

"Buck? Can you zip me up, please?"

He rises from his spot on the bed and strides over to you, standing a little closer than necessary. He pulls the zip upwards ever so slowly, fingertips brushing your spine as he goes. He's so warm and so broad behind you that it sends a shiver through your body.

Bucky brushes your hair to one side and leans down to press a featherlight kiss the place where your neck meets your shoulder. You hum in contentment, which only spurs him on. He begins to leave kisses wherever he pleases - your shoulder, your neck, behind your ear. You practically melt into him, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady.

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen."

You smile at his words, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder.

"Says the man that looks like a goddamn supermodel."

"Oh, angel. Now you're just lying to me."

His chuckle rumbles through the both of you, the sound lighting up your nerve endings.

Your eyes flick across the room, where you notice the clock on the wall.

"Baby," you whisper. "You gotta stop. We're gonna be late."

He groans lowly and lets his head loll into the crease of your shoulder.

"I was fine until you called me baby," he murmurs. "Now that's all I'm gonna be thinking about for the rest of the night."

"Sorry."

"You're not."

"I'm not."

You both laugh and untangle yourselves, you moving to put on your shoes while Bucky straightens himself out.

"You gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself, lover boy?"

"I'm gonna have to," he grumbles, trying to hide the smile that's fighting to take over his face.

You lean against him as you do up the straps of your shoes, dancing your fingers down his arm to interlink your hands.

"Ready?" you ask, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Ready," he confirms, leaning down to kiss you chastely.

"A night of pretending that we're not soulmates. How hard can that be?"

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Pretending that Bucky isn't your soulmate is one of the hardest things you've ever done.

You haven't even made it inside yet.

Buck parks his truck in your parents driveway and turns to look at you. You've been silent the entire ride over, and it's making him anxious. He reaches over and places a warm palm on your bare thigh, thumb rubbing patterns back and forth.

"You okay?"

You take a deep breath, which is all the answer he needs.

"It's alright, baby. I'm nervous too. We've got this. We're alright."

You look into his eyes for the first time since you were in your apartment, and have to fight to stop yourself from crying. You nod and bite your lip, inhaling and exhaling carefully.

"You're okay. I promise. It's me and you, honey girl. It's me and you."

You want to crawl over into Bucky's lap and bury your face in his chest. You want to curl up in his strong arms and let his scent envelope you. You want to tangle your fingers into his hair and smash his lips to yours, until you don't know where you end and Bucky begins.

Instead, you bring his hand from your thigh to your lips, and kiss each of his knuckles tenderly. The gesture makes his heart beat so fast, he's a little worried he's about to pass out.

"Come and talk to me anytime tonight, okay? I've got you. I've always got you."

You nod again, and take another deep breath.

"I know, Buck. It's the only thing I'm sure of."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"My baby!"

Your Mom smothers you in a hug the minute you knock on the door, almost tipping you over in the process.

"Oh, you look so beautiful. This colour is gorgeous on you, sweetheart."

The heaviness of your heart gets a little lighter at the sight of your Mother. She's magic like that.

"Thanks Mama. Is your skirt new? It's pretty."

She gives you a twirl, the skirt billowing around her like a princess. Both you and Bucky smile when you catch each others eyes briefly.

"I got it on our trip! Your Dad got a new shirt too - he looks so handsome."

She's grinning from ear to ear talking about him. Your smile only gets wider.

Bucky gives your Mom a one armed hug, and hands her a white box with a bow on.

"I wish I could say this is from me, but I don't have nearly enough talent for that."

"You're plenty good at other things, Buck," she laughs. "What's in here, sweetheart?"

"Apple, carrot and cinnamon cake with cream cheese frosting. I piped little bunny rabbits on top, too."

Before she can say anything else, you take the box from her hands and walk into the house.

"We better put this in the refrigerator before the frosting melts!" you call as you leave.

"Come on Buck, let's get you a drink. Jack bought your favourite."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your parents backyard looks incredible.

Golden fairylights adorn the deck, illuminating the dining area that your Mom has set up. The table is covered with a white lace tablecloth, and littered with tea lights and candlesticks. Each place setting has a wine and a water glass ready, fringed cushions perched on each wooden chair. There's a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a stained glass vase as the centerpiece, more flowers scattered across the entirety of the table.

The sun hasn't set yet, and the entire garden is dripping with the glowing orange hue of the evening. The air is warm and calm, salty ocean breeze only disrupting the peace occasionally. If summer were to be summed up in a night, it'd be this one.

Your Dad is pouring water into all of the glasses from an ornate painted jug when you walk into the yard.

"Hi, Papa."

"Oh, sweetheart!" he smiles in surprise, abandoning his task to come and give you a hug. "You look amazing. I like your dress."

"Thank you - hey, is this your new shirt? It suits you!"

"It's nice, right? Your Mom picked it out. She said the colour brings out my eyes."

You look him up and down comically, crossing your arms over your chest like a cartoon detective.

"Hmm... she's right. It definitely does."

You're both laughing when your Mom and Bucky join you, the two men immediately smacking each other on the back affectionately.

"Where you been, Buck? Work keeping you busy?"

"Stupidly busy - you wouldn't even believe."

"Well, it's your night off, so no shop talk!" your Mom encourages, handing Bucky a beer.

"Easier said than done," he winks, and your breathing picks up just a little.

"Mama, do you need help with anything in the kitchen?"

"Oh, yes please, sweetheart. Come, let me show you what needs doing."

The two of you leave the men to catch up, walking inside to prep the appetisers.

You're slicing tomatoes carefully when you turn to watch your Mom for a minute. She's chopping up basil, completely engrossed. The evening sun beams in, illuminating her as she stands by the window. You love her so much it makes you unsteady on your feet.

"Hey, Mama? Can I talk to you about something?"

She turns and immediately stops what she's doing, giving her full attention to you.

"Of course you can, baby. Anything at all."

You take a deep breath, and carry on slicing while you talk.

"So, you remember Stella, right?

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

There's good food, gorgeous wine and even better company. Your parents invited many of their friends, meaning twelve of you are sat around the meticulously prepared table. In between courses, there's conversation, laughter and games, everyone letting go of the stress of the week.

You're doing everything you can to avoid looking at Bucky. You're worried that if someone catches the two of you, they'll know everything. You're surprised you haven't confessed already, the weight of the secret too heavy to bear.

Your Mom is cutting your cake on the table when there's a sudden commotion.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. Shit."

"Is everyone okay?" your Mom asks, flitting to the other end of the table.

"I'm so fucking clumsy, my God. Dropped my wine straight onto Bucky," Jesse, one of your Dad's oldest friends, explains.

"As long as it doesn't stain my white tablecloth, we're fine," your Mom laughs. "What do you need, Buck?"

"It's only white wine, luckily, so no stain. I'm just wet. I'm gonna go dry off."

"I have a hairdryer?" you offer without thinking.

"Good idea, honey. Go help Bucky upstairs while I get some paper towels."

You rise from your chair and make your way inside, heart racing as Bucky follows you. You rummage around the drawers of your childhood bedroom, certain you used to keep all of your hair tools here somewhere.

"You got it?" a warm, whiskey smooth voice asks from behind you.

"Got it," you reply, standing up with the hairdryer in your hand.

Bucky kicks the door closed behind him, and takes a step into you.

"I can't focus on anything when you're sat there in that dress," he murmurs. "Look like a fuckin' angel, all pretty under the lights."

Heat blooms over your chest, and you pray he doesn't notice. Your breathing quickens, and you step forward too, now chest to chest with him.

"I'm so worried that I'm going to accidentally blurt it out," you confess. "You're the only thing that's on my mind."

Bucky leans down to press his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. You fist your hands into his shirt and pull him closer, snaking your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like mint and sugar and every kiss for the rest of your life.

He groans when you bite his lip, nipping yours back in retaliation.

"Easy, baby," he warns teasingly. "I can't go back down there black and blue."

You roll your eyes and kiss him harder, practically melting when he grabs at your ass roughly.

"What do you need, pretty girl?" he questions against your mouth. "I'll give you anything."

You're panting against him, vibrating with need.

"Need you to take the edge off," you whisper, hands shaking as you unbutton his wet shirt. "Can't carry on like this. Please, baby. Please."

"We've gotta be quick," he reminds, sneaking his hand under your dress to tease you over your underwear.

You grab at his shoulders for leverage, almost certain your knees aren't going to hold out long enough. Bucky doesn't even take your panties off, just slips his hand down the front. It feels filthier this way.

"Fuck," he groans. "This all for me, honey? You been thinking about this?"

"Yes," you whine. "All I've thought about."

Bucky wastes no time, slipping a finger into you easily. After a minute, he adds another, setting a steady rhythm immediately.

"Shit," you breathe, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chest. "We're supposed to be taking it slow."

"You want me to go slow?"

"No, fuck," you say immediately. "Don't stop. Please."

He chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"I won't, baby. Almost there."

It should be embarrassing, how quickly he can take you to the edge, but you don't care. This is what having a soulmate is. They know you better than anyone - inside and out.

"So close," you whisper.

"I know, pretty baby. I can feel it. Stay quiet and come for me. That's it."

You can't hold out when he uses that tone with you. You're thrown over the edge, your climax running through you like molten honey, hot and delicious. Your knees buckle, and Bucky uses a strong arm around your middle to hold you up.

"There we go," he's murmuring. "Atta girl. That's my girl."

You wrap your arms around his waist and breathe him in, finally coming back to your senses.

"My parents are gonna wonder where we are," you realise. "Grab your shirt and the hairdryer. You're gonna have to do it while I recover."

Bucky smiles at you with so much affection, the world stops spinning for a second. This is a moment of bliss. The two of you revel in it.

Bucky dries his shirt while you go back outside, trying to keep suspicion to a minimum.

"Fixed, sweetheart?" your Mom asks, holding out a piece of cake to you. You take it gratefully and sit back down, relaxing into your chair.

"Yeah, it's basically dry. That hairdryer is old, so it's taking a while."

"Well you didn't miss much, other than Jesse telling the Joshua Tree story for the fortieth time this month," your Dad laughs.

"You love that story, asshole!" Jesse yells, just as Bucky re-enters the garden. He throws you a mischievous smile, which you reciprocate with ease.

Everyone is a little more careful with their wine as the night goes on, keeping all the glasses planted firmly on the table.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"So then I said, well, if you don't like it, leave!"

You're pretty sure you've heard your Mom's friend Cora tell this story before, but you're all laughing like it's the first time. She has such an animated voice, you're convinced you could listen to her read the phone book.

"Which, I mean, I didn't think he would. Imagine breaking up over a chinchilla! A fucking chinchilla!"

You're laughing so hard your sides hurt. You look over to Bucky, and see that he's grinning like a Cheshire cat. You could get used to this.

"So I watched him pack his shit, box by box. Which took fucking ages, by the way. He was using those big plastic boxes, you know the black ones? And he was filling them so carefully and so slowly, that I started helping him!"

You wipe a tear from your face, still doubled over in amusement. You're gonna be sore tomorrow, the way your abs hurt now.

"But I didn't want him taking those boxes, because they're nice, right? They're expensive, and they're mine! So I helped him move out, and then unpacked all of his shit so I could have my boxes back."

Your Mom, despite hearing this story before, hasn't taken her eyes off Cora the entire time. She's such a careful listener. It's one of the things you love most about her.

"Oh, I'll drop them off for you, if you like!" Cora yells, staring directly at you. Everyone turns to look at you in confusion.

"Why would she need all your boxes?" Jesse laughs.

"For the big move!"

Time stands still. The world goes silent. Your heart stops beating.

"...What move?" Bucky asks, never taking his eyes off you.

"To California! Her dream job, falling in her lap. We're so proud of you, babygirl. You've worked so hard for this."

Cora's tearing up now, the alcohol catching up to her. She raises her glass high in the air.

"To our little superstar. The best baker the world has ever seen! Cheers!"

Everyone clinks their glasses together in the middle of the table, except for you and Bucky. You haven't taken your eyes off each other. The world carries on, but you stay still.

You suddenly feel a cacophony of emotions - sadness, anger, betrayal, hurt and confusion settling like ten tonne weights onto your chest. Then it hits you - you're feeling what Bucky feels.

You feel a heart break.

You're not sure if it's yours or his.

tag list part one -

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 22 days

Note

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.

God, you were down bad.

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.

That was all you needed to hear.

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!baureader

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bratzforchris · 1 month

Text

Five Love Languages, M. Sturniolo

Summary: The five love languages look a little different for Matt and his girlfriend, but that's always okay<3

Pairing: Matt x neurodivergent fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of autistic burnout, this is entirely self indulgent

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I think we need more representation around here, especially for different neurotypes and disabilities <3 This fic is based off of this Instagram post :) I am autistic and have ADHD, and this was so much fun to write--if you'd like to see the same thing but for another boy, drop a request in my inbox!

Infodumping༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

“Matt, come here! Now!” You squealed from your shared bedroom, your joy infectious as you bounced up and down on the bed happily.

You could hear the sound of your boyfriend running up the stairs, followed by him bursting through the door, slightly out of breath. “What’s up, honey?” he asked with a smile, noting your happy stims and luminous grin.

“Taylor’s going on tour!” You giggled, shaking your hands in small fists as a way to release all the happy, all-consuming energy that came with engaging in a special interest.

“Oh really?” Matt asked genuinely, sitting beside you on the bed. “Tell me more, hun!” he encouraged you, kissing your cheek gently so as not to get in the way of your movements.

“It’s going to be a tour where she goes through every era,” You smiled, happily bouncing on the bed. “We have to go.”

“We will,” Matt rubbed your knee softly. “As many dates as you want.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up at the thought of getting to experience your special interest with your favorite person.

“Really, honey. What album are you most excited to hear?”

Matt looked at you kindly, his eyes shining with love. He absolutely loved watching how excited you got over your special interests. You had been a huge Taylor Swift fan for over ten years now, and the brunette wished that he could bottle up your happiness whenever you engaged with her music. He would almost equate your joy to that of sunshine, baby animals, and glitter. Where some people thought you were “just a fangirl” or “too obsessed”, Matt loved listening when you infodumped about Taylor Swift. The sheer dedication someone could have to a singular topic was beyond impressive and adorable to him.

“That’s really hard, Matt,” You whined playfully, still happily stimming and flapping your hands. “I really like Lover a lot because it reminds me of you, but I also want to hear reputation because it’s just so iconic. Like the whole snake aesthetic after the Kim and Kayne thing was just perfect. But then I also love folklore because of the love triangle thing and also because it’s just so experimental. Did you know that there was only eleven months between Lover and folklore?” You asked your boyfriend, becoming more animated as you spoke.

“I didn’t know that!” Matt responded, clearly very invested in the conversation. “Here hun, why don’t you play with this instead? I don’t want you to hurt your wrists, sweetie.” he explained softly, passing you a fidget toy that was laying on your nightstand.

You blushed as you took the toy from him, not even realizing just how bad your wrists were hurting. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that?” You asked him, slowly crawling across the bed and into his lap.

“I think I had an idea or two.” Matt smirked.

You began to play with the fidget toy with one hand and Matt’s hair with the other. You still felt the need to stim, your nervous system buzzing with happiness. Whenever you felt the need to fidget, you loved to mess with your boyfriend’s hair, and he always let you. The way his soft, brown curls slid through your fingers and the way his natural highlights hit the light gave you such good sensory feelings.

“Thank you for listening to me…I know it’s a lot sometimes.” You whispered shyly, hiding your face against his hoodie.

Matt rubbed circles on your back as you played with his hair. “I love listening to you talk Taylor, baby. I think it’s interesting.” he grinned.

“You do?”

“I do,” he booped your nose. “I think it’s cute too.”

“Do you think she’s gonna go era by era?” You asked, still too excited to focus on much else besides your special interest. “I hope so. That would be so much fun.”

“You’re gonna have to teach me everything,” Matt giggled. “I can’t be one of those boyfriends who goes and looks miserable.”

You squealed, untangling your hands from his hair and planting a kiss on his lips. “Oh hun, you’re gonna be the most educated boy in the stadium. You’ll know more Taylor lore than Taylor

Parallel Play ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed happily, pulling your blanket closer around yourself and taking a sip of your coffee. Thankfully, Matt had a completely free day with nothing to film, which meant you could just enjoy each other’s company. These days were few and far between, but you treasured every one because of how unmasked and free they allowed you to be.

You sat your mug down on the coffee table and picked up the yarn and crochet hook you had set out earlier. Matt sat at the other end of the couch, feet in your lap as he focused intently on his book. You felt your heart swell with love as you took a peek at the cover, and noted that it was a memoir about understanding and aiding your partner in their unmasking journey.

Matt was by far the best boyfriend you had ever had when it came to accepting and loving you, neurodivergence and all. Finding a man who didn’t fetishize or infantilize being an autistic woman was hard, but the brunette was a diamond in the rough. Like right now for example, when he was spending his Saturday morning that he had off learning about how to understand the way your brain worked.

You blushed and picked up your crocheting, beginning to work on the blanket you had started earlier in the week. You had picked a chenille yarn in pretty pastel colors, and the rainbow of yarn, as well as its soft feel made you smile. You began to crochet, taking a peek at Matt every so often. Occasionally, your boyfriend would look up at the same time and catch your eye, sending you a soft smile before going back to reading.

The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. Matt had a way of making you feel loved and safe, even without speaking the words out loud. Having grown up with his own mental health struggles around anxiety, your boyfriend understood the importance of “being alone together” and just existing in each other's orbit, without the need for words.

“Thank you.” You whispered shyly after about thirty minutes of silence.

“For what?” Matt asked you, closing the book and setting it on the pillow next to him.

You sat down your craft as well and moved to snuggle into his arms, angling yourself so that you could hear the beat of his heart. “For just letting me be me.”

The brunette buried his nose in your hair, speaking softly against his head. “I love you.”

“You just let me be and we can do our own things without feeling awkward or weird,” You explained. “It’s comforting…and it makes me fall more in love with you.” You giggled softly, a blush creeping up your neck.

Matt held you closer to his body, arms wrapped around you protectively. “You’re perfect, baby. All of you.”

As you snuggled further into his hold, the two of you fell into companionable silence again, enjoying each other’s company. It really was the little moments like these that made you realize just how lucky you were to be in such an accepting, caring relationship.

Support Swapping ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Over the past year of dating Matt, you had fallen into a wonderful routine with your boyfriend, one that allowed you to distribute your spoons more easily and allowed him a slight break from his anxiety, especially socially.

“Support Swapping” as you two called it was great help and was arguably one of the best parts of your relationship. Being autistic and having ADHD, you tended to struggle with executive functioning, always focusing on the wrong things instead of doing what you needed to maintain a healthy lifestyle. If you were hyperfixated on something, your mind could block out all reminders and signals from your body to eat, drink, rest, and use the bathroom. Once you finally realized how depleted you were, it would inevitably lead to an autistic meltdown because of the overwhelming sensory urges of hunger, exhaustion, and thirst.

Matt, on the other hand, oftentimes struggled with parts of his job that came along with being a content creator. As much as he loved being in front of the camera and giving the fans funny content, he despised writing and sending emails. Nick could edit out anything that made him seem a little too weird or awkward; he couldn’t control how the recipient would take his email. You however, had loved writing ever since you were a little girl and actually took great pride in being able to communicate effectively through the written word.

When you had voiced these concerns with each other and how they made both of you feel emotionally, it was clear there was only one option, and that was to support each other, just like you were on this particular day. It was nearing dinnertime by this point, the sun setting over the LA skyline as you tapped at the computer in Matt’s office. You had been hunched over the computer all day, filling out paperwork and emails for collabs that Matt had to do. You typed up all the notes for him, pasting them into a document, where he could then sign his name and send them off. Between your love of the written word and routine, writing the same thing over and over again was like a weird therapy for you.

“Sweetheart?” You heard a soft knock at the door before Matt entered the room.

“One sec.” You hummed, eyes still trained on the screen. “I’m almost done.”

“Babe,” Matt spun you around in the office chair so that you were facing him. “I love you and I adore you for doing this for me, but it’s almost seven. Time for dinner.” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your lips.

“Oh,” You blushed, not realizing how much time had gone by. Just then, your stomach rumbled, making Matt give you a knowing look. “This is why we help each other and remind each other.” You snorted, facepalming yourself softly.

Matt kissed your forehead gently, helping you out of the chair and guiding you towards the kitchen with a soft hand on the small of your back. Before you two left the office, though, he sneakily closed out your computer, making sure you would spend the rest of the evening resting. Your heart swelled when you walked into the kitchen and saw your and Matt’s small dining table completely laid with dinner and drinks.

“You didn’t.” You smiled, turning towards your boyfriend.

“I did,” Matt picked you up and kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I know how distracted you can get when you’re working, sweetheart.”

You blushed as Matt sat you down at the table, knowing he was absolutely right. “You take care of me so well.”

Matt rubbed your knuckles softly as he sat down in his own chair. “That’s what a partnership is for,” he smiled, the adorable crinkles around his eyes that you loved oh-so-much on full display. “We take care of each other.”

"Please Crush My Soul Back Into My Body" ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed, growing restless as you shifted around in the backseat of the van. The triplets were filming their weekly Friday car video, and you had decided to join on this particular day. You absolutely loved playing Over/Under, but the effects of the evening were beginning to wear on you. Between Chris frequently changing topics to almost anything that wasn’t Over/Under and Nick’s yelling, you were starting to become overstimulated.

You shifted, trying to pull your hoodie off since it was starting to irritate you, only to loudly smack your arm on the hard, plastic door of the car. All three boys looked your way, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked with a chuckle, but his eyes held a concerned look.

“Mhm,” You nodded, trying not to let your frustration show. “Just a little too hot.”

“We should finish up. Nick’s second timer has already gone off.” Matt turned in his seat and stretched, trying to discreetly end the video.

Matt knew you almost as well, if not better than you knew yourself, and he could tell that you weren’t super comfortable, despite your best efforts to hide it. Even he had to admit that Chris’s frequent change of topics and Nick’s yelling was getting to be a lot, so he couldn’t even imagine how you were feeling. Luckily, his brothers seemed to take the hint, and the boys swiftly ended the video, with you whispering a little ‘bye’ in the background.

As your boyfriend began to try towards the triplets' LA home, you shoved your earbuds into your ears, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the window. You were overstimulated and exhausted, and the next person to add to sensory overload was going to catch it if you didn’t try to calm yourself. You were so caught up in the awful feelings taking over your body and your anxiety that you didn't even notice that Matt had pulled into the garage and Nick and Chris had vacated the car until your boyfriend turned in his seat, patting your knee.

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly.

“No…” You mumbled, trying not to choke on tears. “Too much.”

Matt understood what you meant and gently helped you out of the car and into the house without another word. On the way to your shared bedroom, he quietly shushed Nick and Chris, mumbling a little ‘overstimulated’. Both brothers were aware of you being autistic and immediately piped down, silently feeling terrible for you.

Your boyfriend sat you down on the edge of the bed, handing you a fidget toy from off your nightstand. Despite the discomfort you were experiencing, you felt your heart swell as you watched Matt gently take off your socks and shoes, before standing up and looking at you.

“Do you want your headphones?” he asked you in sign language.

You could’ve cried right then and there because of your sheer love for Matt. Ever since you two had started dating and you had explained that you used ASL to communicate when you were feeling overstimulated, the brunette had taken it upon himself to learn as much of the language as possible. He was still rather beginner level, but it was the thought behind it that made you want to squeeze him and pepper his face with kisses.

You nodded to his question, and Matt swiftly replaced your earbuds with better quality, noise canceling headphones. You sighed softly at the relief, standing up and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's waist. “Thank you,” You signed against his chest. “I love you.”

Matt hugged you back gently, almost like he was scared you would break. “Pajamas?” he asked again.

You nodded once more, and your boyfriend gently helped you into soft, sensory approved pajama pants and one of his faded, soft shirts. You quietly got curled up under your weighted blanket as Matt bustled around the room, getting himself ready for bed, but the pressure wasn’t enough. You needed something more. As your boyfriend crawled into bed, you rolled over onto your side, tapping his shoulder gently.

“Will you lay on me?” You signed.

Matt smiled, kissing your forehead gently. He grabbed the remote and turned on your comfort show on the television, before laying his head softly on your stomach. You smiled and sighed contently at the feeling, running your fingers through his soft, brown curls. That was one of your favorite stims, and the feeling of Matt’s pressure, combined with stimming and noise canceling headphones, was slowly calming you down.

Over the hour that followed, Matt softly laid more and more of his body weight over top of you. He knew that deep pressure therapy helped you regulate your nervous system, especially when you were overstimulated. If some extra love and cuddles would help, he wasn’t going to be the one to complain. Sure enough, by the time he looked up at you, you were fast asleep, a happy little smile on your lips.

Penguin Pebbling ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Matt looked over at you from his position on the couch as you giggled, happily kicking your feet. “What’s so funny?” “Check your Tiktok.” You laughed, a happy little smile taking up residence on your face as you stimmed.

Your boyfriend smiled at whatever antics you had going on, migrating to his phone. You let out a little giggle as you watched Matt’s facial expressions change, from that of confusion, to that of happiness.

“You really sent me one hundred and fifty different cat videos?” he asked, though his tone was playful.

“They reminded me of you,” You whined, throwing a stuffed animal at him. “You’re the one who always sends people images of sleeping kittens and says ‘that’s me’.”

Matt chuckled as he sat watching every single video. He knew how important sharing was to you, especially when it had to do with the people you cared about. “Penguin pebbling” as it was called, was the act of unconventional gift giving as a sign of affection. Your boyfriend absolutely loved when you did this, because it was pure love. It wasn’t big, expensive gifts or luxury vacations. It was the smallest, most accessible thing in the world, yet you took time out of your day to do it.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” the brunette asked, sliding onto the floor beside you and kissing your cheek.

“Maybe once or twice.” You grinned.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @mbsbaby @herxyz @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @bunny-cotton @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniee @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @mggcult @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @aemrsy @billsslutt

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

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lnfours · 4 months

Text

you are in love | l.n

summary: the moment where you knew he was the one.

warnings: best friends to lovers au, shitty dates, language, a little bit of innuendos, and just pure, tooth rotting fluff.

masterlist | inbox | listen

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you walked out of the restaurant, nails tapping against your screen as you walked on the sidewalk. there was a soft, warm breeze in the city of monaco as you stared down at your phone. your phone locked once you found somewhere to stand, out of the sight from the crowds, and specifically the guy you had left at the dinner table.

can you come get me?

it was almost ten. and if he wasn’t asleep, he was definitely doing better things with his time-

of course, where are you?

your heart pattered against your chest, your fingers moving to tell him the name of the street corner you were standing at. he had responded quickly after, saying he’d be there in five.

and he was, the mclaren pulling up besides you. he had the top open for the nighttime summer breeze to flow through. you stepped closer, opening the door and climbing in carefully before closing it behind you.

“you alright?” he asked, car still parked as he made sure he didn’t have to go back into the restaurant and give the guy a piece of his mind.

when you nodded, he let out a breath of relief, “i just really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

he huffed out a laugh, pulling onto the road, “we could say that,” he looked back over at you as you looked out the window, “back to mine? or yours?”

you met those stupidly beautiful green eyes and you let out a shaky breath as his eyes scanned your features, “yours is fine. blair is out of town anyway, so it’s been lonely.”

“oh, yeah? where she go this time? ibiza? france?” he joked and you snorted next to him. your roommate, blair, came from money. big money. and every other weekend, she always had somewhere new to take her father’s private jet. even if it was just to visit a louis vuitton store in paris.

her frequent trips had become an inside joke to you, max and lando. so far as to where the three of you make bets on which extravagant place shes visiting every time she leaves. this week, it’s bali.

“close,” you nod, “her family’s vacationing in bali this week.��

“damn,” he mumbled, “so close.”

you both shared a soft laugh, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you as you watched the city life out the window. he couldn’t help but take occasional glances towards you, his eyes falling to the necklace sparkling around your neck.

the one he had gotten you for your most recent birthday. you had refused to accept his gift at first, immediately shaking your head when you spotted the tiffany blue box underneath the wrapping paper.

but he insisted, and now you never took it off. a silver heart engraved with a little four. a subtle detail, but a special one. some people thought he seemed ‘full of himself’ because he got you a gift with his number on it. but, you were the one who encouraged him to chase his dreams. the one who pushed him to do better, the one who never believed for a second how the media tried to paint him out to be.

because, to you, he wasn’t ’lando norris: mclaren formula one driver with a sassy attitude who’s full of himself’, to you he was just ‘lando: the boy you’ve known your entire life, who knew everything about you, and the boy who would pick you up after a shitty date’.

at the end of the day, it was always the two of you against anything and everything. two peas in a pod, as cisca would say.

the two of you got to his apartment, his key unlocking the door and pushing it open. once you got inside, you kicked your heels off by the door as he made his way into the kitchen.

“do you still have those makeup wipes i left here?” you asked.

he nodded, reaching into one of the cupboards as he grabbed the white mug with little yellow stars on it. your mug.

“should be in the top drawer in the bathroom with your toothbrush and hairbrush,” he said, turning back to you, “want a coffee?”

you nodded, letting out a soft sigh, “please. milk and two-“

“two sugars,” he smiled softly, “i know.”

you smiled back at him before turning and walking down the hallway to his bedroom. when you entered, you took in the view of his freshly made bed and the hamper in the corner being empty. a sign that he had done his laundry and cleaned the house today.

you hummed softly, opening the closet door and thumbing through the different hoodies he had. you settled on an older mclaren one, the same one he had lent you a few years back when you were crying on his couch.

you also snagged a pair of sweatpants while you were in there, changing into them and placing your dress on his dresser. making a mental note to take it with you when he takes you home in the morning.

once you had taken your makeup off in the bathroom, you made your way back to the living room where he was sitting on the couch, phone in hand as he held his mug. you sat next to him, your mug on the table next to you. you took it into your hands, smiling over the rim.

“thank you,” you said.

“‘course,” he smiled, locking his phone and picking up the remote, “what episode were we on before we fell asleep the other night? i don’t remember,”

you looked over at the tv in front of you, now noticing he had the show the two of you had been watching pulled up. you twisted your lips in thought.

“uhm, i think six? maybe seven?” you said, he clicked on six and after a few seconds you realized the two of you had guessed correctly.

at some point during the show, your head had ended up on his shoulder. his arm had pulled you closer into him, taking in the smell of his cologne and the shampoo he used. a scent you had grown to love, to look forward to every time he wrapped his arms around you to give you a hug, or whenever you were close enough to him to pick up on it.

at some point you had zoned out, thinking to yourself. maybe the reason all these dates hadn’t worked out was because they all lacked something. something no one else had other than lando, the boy who knew you like the back of his hand.

you shifted, moving to look at the boy with curly brown hair, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the tv. you took in the beauty marks that freckled his face, the ones he used to complain about when he was younger, but you always said it was your favorite thing.

maybe it wasn’t the fact that lando knew you like the back of your hand that turned you away from all the other men who’d swipe right on you. maybe it was the fact that they weren’t him.

you didn’t know when, but somehow you had fallen in love with the boy next to you. i mean, who could blame you? he was everything you could ever dream of, the perfect man.

he turned and met your eyes, his face inches from yours now. you smiled softly, his lips turning up in return. his eyes scanned yours and you took in a nervous breath when his eyes traveled to your lips.

“i’m sorry that date didn’t work out for you,” he said softly, “these guys really don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

you shrugged, “it’s okay,” your heart was hammering against your chest, questioning silently to yourself if he could hear it.

he couldn’t, but he could tell when he scanned your face that you didn’t really seem all that upset. he wasn’t really sorry, either, to be fair. it might’ve seemed selfish, but he always anticipated your ‘can you come get me?’ texts whenever he knew you were going out. he prayed the dates would fail, so he could finally be the one to take you out and do it properly. give you that fairytale kind of love you deserve.

he blurted out before his mind could even filter it, “can i tell you something?”

you hummed. fuck, there was no going back now.

“i’m kind of glad those dates haven’t worked out.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in question, “why’s that?”

“because i want to be the one to take you out,” his voice was soft and it sent your heart right into your throat, “all the fancy dinners, the kissing goodnight at the doorstep, all of it.”

his eyes traveled back to your lips and you sucked in a breath, “can i tell you something too?”

he nodded, his face centimeters away from yours now. your warm breath fanned his face, the smell of your perfume and the hair product you had put in hours beforehand captivating him.

“i want all of that with you, too.” you smiled and he grinned back, a soft laugh leaving both of your lips. he reached up, his hand lifting your chin.

“you sure you want to be stuck with me?” he asked, “cause once i start, i don’t think i could stop.”

your nose brushed against his, “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

that was all it took until his lips were pressing against yours. you kissed him back, the hand that wasn’t holding your jaw reaching to your hip and pulling you closer, leaving no room between you as you climbed into his lap.

your hands threaded through the curls on the nape of his neck, his arms wrapping around you. a moment of complete bliss, the moment you’ve been waiting for for what felt like ages.

“lets go to bed, yeah?”

you nodded back, nose bumping his as your face wore a smile. he stood from the couch, hands supporting your thighs before letting your legs wrap around his torso. he carried you down the hallway, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

he placed you down on the mattress, the two of you entangling limbs underneath the sheets. he played with the soft strands of your hair, his lips pressing against the top of your head as you listened to his heart beat against his ribs. existing in complete contentment with each others company.

“breakfast in the morning?” he asked softly.

you thought about it for a minute, turning to look at him. it was dark, but you could still make out his face, “sure, just as long as you don’t burn the toast.”

499 notes · View notes

softspiderling · 5 days

Text

illicit affairs - part two | r.c

summary:

"Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

OR; Rafe makes an outrageous suggestion and you? You give in.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of drugs, talk about sex (nothing graphic yet) but the later parts will have smut, so 18+ MDNI!

word count: 2k

author's note: pt. two out so soon?? there's gotta be smth fishy going on 🤭we finally get into the PLOT! i hope you enjoy my lovelies, don't forget to leave a comment/like/reblog or share your thoughts with me in the inbox.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. two: "it's born from just one single glance"

A week after the party, it was the first Friday in a while where the four of you didn’t go to a party. After spending a day out of the sea to test out Topper’s new boat, you got picked up some pizza and settled down in Rafe’s living room, where you were still in the same spot several hours later. The empty pizza cartons were stacked on the floor and the four of you strewn out on the couch and various seats.

“You want another drink?”

Rafe was waving his empty glass in front of you, a lonely ice cube clinking in it, an expected eyebrow raised.

You squinted at him, nodding. “Can you get me a coke please?”

“Sure.”

Kelce perked up in his seat at the prospect of another drink. “Hey, can you get me another beer?”

“No,” Rafe answered, without even looking back as he left for the kitchen. “You know where the fridge is.”

“What?” Kelce muttered with a frown, looking over to you as he slumped back down. “You know where the fridge is, why is he getting you a coke?”

You only shrugged with a grin, making yourself comfortable on the couch now that you had more space, while Topper clapped Kelce on the back in consolation.

“Come on man, you know she’s his favorite.”

“Hey!”

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, you shucked it at Topper, making him yelp when it hit him square in the face.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not right next to you,” you scowled. “And I’m not Rafe’s favorite.”

“You’re a clown if you actually believe that.”

“Fuck you, you’re a clown.”

Topper tossed the pillow back at you, narrowly missing your head by an inch and the pillow fell to the floor behind the couch, landing just in front of Rafe’s feet as he returned.

“I was gone for five minutes, what are you guys fighting about now?”

“Precious over here thinks she’s not your favorite.”

You glowered at the other two boys, while Rafe settled back on the couch next to you, pressing a can of coke into your hands. He took a sip of his drink, eyeing you briefly and shrugged, pursing his lips in agreement.

“Nah, you’re definitely my favorite.”

You stuck your tongue out at Topper when he gave you a knowing look, instead focusing on opening your coke. “Whatever. It doesn’t mean anything, you two shitheads don’t make it hard for me to be anyone’s favorite.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kelce grunted with a frown and you raised a brow at him.

“You literally had sex in Rafe’s bed last year,” you said, before turning your attention to Topper. “And you’re still obsessed with Sarah.”

Rafe let out a noise, making clear that he was fully agreeing with you. “What she said.”

Topper, while satisfied he had proven his point, still rolled his eyes and Kelce crossed his arms, annoyed.

“I hate it when they team up like this.”

“Shut up and get your beer.”

The next couple of hours passed easily, just as it always did when the four of you came together to talk shit. While you did enjoy going to parties every now and then, you really appreciated just hanging out with your friends and talking about everything and nothing in the safety of the four walls of Rafe’s home.

Only you and your boys. Just the way you liked it.

“Alright, I think it’s time for me to go,” Topper said, breaking up the group with a yawn, shaking his head to stay awake as he sat up. “I’m beat.”

“Can you give me a ride?” Kelce asked, standing up and Topper nodded, turning to you.

“Do you need me to drop you off too?”

You stretched your arms, legs long draped over Rafe’s lap as you laid lengthwise on the couch. It was nearing one am and you really should make your way home, but you were far too comfortable to move, having spent most of the day in the sun, which was catching up to you now.

“I think I might stay for a while longer, thanks though.”

Topper clicked his tongue, ruffling your hair, messing it up for good measure as he and Kelce said their good byes, their voices getting quieter as they strolled to the front, the door shutting in its hinges. It wasn’t long after until you could heard Topper’s truck start, and then pull off the estate grounds.

Finally, it was quiet enough for you to hear the music, which was drowned out by Kelce’s constant yapping. You loved him but he was such a chatter box when he drank beer.

“Isn’t Sarah coming home tonight?” you asked into the sudden quietness, combing through your hair with your fingers, trying to get rid of the knots that have formed since you’d laid on the couch for the whole night. The estate had been quiet apart from the four of you causing raucous in the living room.

“Please,” Rafe scoffed. “She’s staying with John B more nights than not, I’m this close to kicking her out for real.”

“Oh come on,” you laughed, leaning up to shove his arm a little. “She’s in love. Leave her alone. And don’t act like you don’t enjoy being the man of the house and having it all to yourself.”

Rafe grinned to himself, shrugging his shoulders a bit like you weren’t absolutely right. Like you said, you knew him. “Eh. Maybe. House tends to get a little quiet sometimes... Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

“Give me a break,” Rafe huffed. “You know damn well you’re not one of my hook ups. They don’t get to stay till the morning,” he paused, turning his head to look at you inquisitively, and you knew that look all too well. He was about to be nosy. “What about yours, anyways?”

“My what?”

“Your hook ups, precious. Haven’t seen anyone around since Jack.”

You shrugged. “Cuz there wasn’t anyone else since Jack, you know that. And he wasn’t a hook up, he was my boyfriend.”

He was quiet, but you could basically hear the gears in his head turning. “I know you’re not into hook ups and shit, but don’t you need to get off sometimes?”

“And risk hooking up with weirdos like Moany? No thank you. I don’t need anyone else to get off.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I know, jesus. I’m just saying… Sex by yourself isn’t as good as sex with another person. If you know what they like. Not everyone has freaky requests like Monique. And if you’re compatible, you know the sex can be insane.”

You eyed him suspiciously, not sure if you liked which direction this was going. He wasn’t about to suggest the two of you having sex…. Right? Because that would be just crazy.

“… jus’ getting sick of having to get to know a new girl every time, ‘s exhausting.”

“You know you can have sex with a person more than once right?”

Rafe scoffed, leaning his hands behind his head. “Yeah, but then they start getting comfortable. I don’t need that right now.”

You waved your hands around, trying to stop Rafe’s train of thought before it could get any further.

“Rafe, stop beating around the bush. The fuck are you on right now?”

He swirled his drink around, downing the last of it before shoving the glass on the table, looking at you.

“What if… We fucked?”

“What?” you stared at him incredulously, like he had just grown a second head.

“I mean, not relationship wise. Casual. Friends with benefits.”

“Friends with benefits,” you echoed, dryly. “Are you insane?”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head at you, not bothering with a reply. You thought that was the end of it, trying to calm your heart down, as it was nearly jumping out of your throat, when you felt Rafe’s hand splaying across your bare legs. His fingers brushed your inner thigh, making you tense and you glared up at him.

“Seriously Rafe?”

“Seriously Rafe?” Rafe mocked you, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, the other hand starting to trace circles into the skin of your thigh, like it was the most normal thing for him to do. “We both know that if you didn’t want me touching you, you’d have kicked me half ways across the room already.”

You wanted to protest, but your words died halfway down your tongue, knowing it was no use with the way Rafe was looking at you. Also, he was a 100% right. Turning away, you stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore how his finger tips left your skin tingling, thinking of the most random things to calm yourself down.

There was no use of lying to yourself, a part of you wanted to say yes.

You knew Rafe didn’t do relationships, has never had a girlfriend in all the years you’d been friends. What if being friends with benefits was the closest thing you could be for Rafe? Not only his best friend, but a step further? What if this was all you could get with him?

“This is a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly. You’re my best friend, I don’t have to tell you anything because you know exactly what I like and what I don’t.”

“Not when it comes to sex!”

“Okay okay, calm down, I was just making a suggestion.”

Rafe trailed off, dropping the topic, his fucking hand still on your thigh. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell that he was biting back a grin, and you hated to think that you were going to give in.

“We’re not telling anyone, you hear me? Not a single soul. Especially not Top and Kelce, they would never let us live this down.”

He turned his head, the corner of his mouth ticking up knowingly. He was your best friend after all, he knew what to say to convince you of his argument. “Those two knuckleheads don’t need to know everything we do,” Rafe said as he leaned in, but you stopped him halfway, your hand on his chest.

“If this affects our friendship in any way, or or…. If it gets awkward or someone… Just, we stop, okay? No lying to get your dick wet.”

“Have I ever lied to you, precious?”

“Uh, yes. Remember when you, Top and Kelce snuck into my gard- oomph.”

Your sentence was cut short when Rafe pressed his lips against you in a soft kiss, his hand cupping the back of the neck. He pulled away, his breath hot on your face. Your lips parted a bit, shock coursing through your veins. You had wondered how it would feel to kiss Rafe for so long, and you had to admit, that the real deal was so much better than anything you could’ve imagined.

“You talk too much,” he mumbled against your lips and you rolled your eyes, brought out of your haze. This was still Rafe. Your best friend.

“Shut up.”

Fisting his shirt, you pulled him closer to you, lips hot as they interlocked. He leaned forward, both of his knees bracketing your waist, one hand moving from the back of your neck to the front, so he could cup your face. Suddenly, you were surrounded by him and if you weren’t so distracted by Rafe’s tongue slipping into your mouth, you’d be freaking out right now. This felt like a fever dream; your hands moving automatically down his torso, sneaking under his shirt, nails grazing his chiseled abs and when Rafe let out a honest to god whimper, you knew you were done for.

There was no going on back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: am i sorry about the cliffhanger? ask me later👀

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #drew starkey

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alisonwritesimagines · 1 year

Text

Baby Fever ~Simon Ghost Riley Imagine~

Summary: Your niece gets attached to Ghost during a family reunion. And luckily for you and Ghost, you two want a future together.

Author’s Note: This won the poll survey I did so here it is!

Part Two

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: a couple brief sexual mentions, mostly fluff

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

Before meeting you, Simon didn't like leave. He didn't have anyone to go home to, no one waiting for him to come back to, or anything to do even if he did go home. Before you, going on leave was miserable for him.

Then you came along. When you found out the first time that Simon didn't have anywhere to go (nor did he really want to go anywhere), you invited him back over to your place.

"You sure you want me to join you?" Simon asked you.

"I don't see why not. Plus, you can meet my plush toys," you joked. Simon wished you were joking until he actually saw one of your stuff plushies out on the couch when he joined you.

You invited him again on the second and third time you two went on leave. Simon wouldn't admit to you that he liked you. But you knew and he knew that you knew. And everyone knew that you two were together after Simon almost sent one of the newbies to medical after they said that they would tap your ass.

"You two spending leave together again?" Price asked you.

"I don't know. My family invited me to a family reunion and I don't know if Simon is comfortable with that," you tell your Captain.

"True. But yet again, do you really want Simon to be alone during leave?" Price asked you.

"No."

So you ask Simon to join you on leave again to head to your family reunion. He says yes to your surprise.

You tell your family that Simon can be quiet and that he wears a balaclava but that's mainly because of some issues he's had in the past. Your family understands but still tries to make some small conversation with him.

"So, you're the lieutenant she's talked about many times," your sister teases.

"She likes to talk about me?" Simon asked, humored over the fact that your sister had just ratted you out.

"Many times. Oh he's so big and handsome even though he wears a mask," your cousin mocks you as they join in on the teasing.

"Leave Y/n alone please. They just got back," your mother tells the two.

"Glad to know you talk about me," Simon smirks under his mask as he looks over at you.

"Oh shut up. I'm going to help out with the stuff," you tell him as you walk away embarrassed.

Simon sat at a chair, sipping the beer your father handed to him. It wasn't the type of beer Simon would normally drink but he didn't want to be rude.

Simon watched as your family chatted as they got everything set up. He felt a tug on his sleeve, making him look over. He saw as a young girl, no older than five, standing next to him.

"Um, hi," Simon said, unsure how to react.

"My ball went up the tree," the girl told him.

"Okay. Where is it?" Simon asked her as he got up. Her eyes widen from his tall figure. She reached her arms up, motioning him to carry her. Simon let out a sigh before picking her up.

"It's over there," she said as she pointed over at the bright yellow ball on the tree.

"How'd you get it up there?" Simon asked as he walked over to grab it.

"They tossed it up there," the girl said as she pointed over to the older kids.

"Isn't there someone your age to play with?" Simon asked her. The little girl shook her head at him.

This must be Y/n's niece, Simon thought. You had mentioned you had a niece and that she was your first niece in your family.

"What's your name?" Simon asked.

"Lana," your niece told him.

"Nice to meet you Lana. I'm Simon."

"Why do you wear a mask?"

"I just like it."

"Can you play with me?" Lana asked him.

"Alright."

As you helped with getting the party set up, you felt a nudge. You looked over at your aunt who motioned over at Simon and your niece.

"Isn't that cute. Have you two thought about getting married and having kids?" Your aunt asks you.

"Here and there but I think we've been so focus on work, we don't think about domestic life as much," you tell her.

"Well if you two ever decide to have a kid, just know you have free babysitting with us here," your mom mentioned. You smile before looking back at Simon and your niece.

When you both got back to your house, you sat on the couch with Simon.

"Have you thought about having kids?" You asked Simon.

"I don't think I'd be a good father since my father was shit," Simon tells you.

"Well I think today you proved that wrong," you tell him.

"What do you mean?"

"With my niece. You two got along pretty well," you tell him.

"She's a good kid."

"Yeah. But I'm just asking," you tell him before getting up to take a shower.

"Have you thought about having kids?" Simon asked you.

"A couple times. But when I saw you with my niece, I thought it'd be nice to have a mini us. But I don't want to pressure you," you tell him before heading to your bedroom. You turned on the water before stripping off your clothes.

You stepping into the shower before relaxing a little under the water. You heard the door open before the shower curtain opened. You watched as Simon join you in the shower before closing the curtain shut.

"I don't remember asking you to join me," you joked.

Simon shook his head at the joke before pulling you in for a kiss.

"I want it with you."

"What?" You asked confused.

"The whole marriage and kid thing. I want it with you," Simon tells you.

"Are you serious?" You asked in shock.

"Yes. I don't want anyone else but you and if we have a kids then at least I have you to raise them with," Simon admitted you. You smiled up at Simon before leaning up to kiss him.

"I'd like that," you smiled.

"Now, let's get onto baby practicing shall we?" Simon said, smiling down at you.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty imagine #alisonwritesimagines

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ruewrote · 1 year

Text

𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: ... GENRE: angst, fluff SONG INSPIRATION: almost by hozier WORD COUNT: 937 NOTE: its four in the morning so if there's any grammar mistakes bro idec anymore, anyways love you guys

navigation | inbox

the five of you were out on john b's porch passing a blunt around, you were talking absolute utter bullshit about everything and anything, well that soon stopped when you caught a certain look that was shared between john and kie.

a slight awkward cough left you before you stopped speaking, feeling embarrassed, it didn't help that you were newer to the group and didn't have the same bond they all had together.

so pushing yourself off out of the chair you were currently sitting on, faking a smile asking everyone if they wanted anything to drink as you went to walk into the home, hearing no's from everyone you made your way to the kitchen. not feeling a pair of eyes on you as you did so.

your eyes watered, sniffling trying to gather yourself, lightly shaking your hands to distract yourself from crying, blinking away the tears successfully.

starting to walk back to the front door, swallowing the lump in your throat, pushing the door back open announcing some bad, but believable excuse to them before rushing home.

this is so stupid.

you really shouldn't be so sensitive y/n.

you lay on your back with your eyes closed trying to focus on the soft music playing in the background, but your loud thoughts wouldn't stop eating at you.

well, that of course was until a little tap on your sliding door turned into two taps, this continued to happen. furrowing your brows, looking over to the glass thinking it was just a tree branch.

nope, it was very much little rocks, pushing yourself off of your bed closer to find the cause of the knocking, looking down only to find a cheeky smile on a certain blonde's face looking right back up at you.

"rapunzel, rapunzel let down your hair!" he shouted in a playfully deeper voice, you rolled your eyes before opening it and yelled back.

"you know i have a perfectly good front door, right?" quirking an eyebrow at him and he groaned back at you.

"but this is so much more romantic, no?"

you had to admit that did make you smile, you moved back over to your bed to keep up your 'stoic' act. soon enough a very out-breath jj was leaned against the right side of the railing on your balcony.

"you— ah. that looked a lot— easier from down there." he was now bent over with his hands on his knees quickly regaining his breath as he stood up straight and gave you a look, the sort of look that said i have an idea.

that’s when he started to run for speed towards you, your eyes widened as you realized it was too late to move out of the way when his body collided with yours, ending up with him on top of you, you both groaned as you tried to push him off.

only for him to make his body deadweight against you which made you struggle more, “ugh! get off of me, you’re so heavy.”

“nope i think i’m gonna stay right here, you’re actually super comfy, night night,” he muttered before shutting his eyes, nuzzling his face into your neck. not that you’d mind being in this situation any other time but not now when he’s all sweaty and gross.

you eventually gave up pushing him, accepting your fate underneath him. remembering how super ticklish he is, you wrapped your legs around his waist as your fingers gently dug into his sides making him jolt off of you laughing.

"im sorry-- i-m sorry, ah--." unwrapping your legs, he fell onto the floor, still slightly laughing whilst looking at you, reaching your hand out for him to grab with a smile, "wanna order some pizza?"

that was it for the next so many hours the two of you messed around, having pillow fights waiting for the food to arrive, eating and then you both ended up a tired pile on your bed, jay resting his head on his arms now gazing up at you as you spoke quietly since everyone else in the house had gone to sleep, it was just the two of you awake.

books. you were now rambling about what new book you were reading and the contents in it. telling him your favourite parts so far, barely noticing that you were talking entirely way too much when you stumbled over your words.

not even realizing that you hadn't even been looking at him the whole time, your eyes had been glued to the white of your ceiling whilst using your hands to slightly gesture what you were talking about.

he was awfully quiet beside you, glancing over for you to be met with a soft jj, how his eyes drooped slowly as he blinked, a gentle smile on his lips. he was listening...to you.

you offered an awkward smile before groaning into the palm of your hand and laughing, "i was doing it again wasn't i? should i stop talking?"

"don't, your voice is very soothing."

with that being said you continued what you were saying previously but now faced him, running your fingers through his hair smoothing the pieces that were falling in front of his face.

chuckling when you heard the sound of his light snores, your hand only stopping its movements when you had to lean over to turn off your lamp, snuggling deeper into your covers as you skimmed over his face in the dimly moonlit room as sleep overcame you.

that's when you discovered your new fondness for the blonde pogue.

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miffysrambles · 2 months

Note

hi! Feel free to not respond, but currently by dog is really sick and has this huge tumor and I know I’m gonna have to put him down soon and it really sucks, but your writing has made this a bit better so could I possibly request Sun Wukong and/or Macaque x reader with a dog? Like how would they react and would they like-call themselves the dogs parent or stuff like that? Feel free not to of course!

Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry for the late response anon (this ask has been sitting in my inbox for some time now). But I hope you're still around and enjoy!

Wuong and Macaque with an S/O who has a dog

Wukong:

Gods, Wukong LOVES your dog.

You’ll be making a snack for the two of you and you’ll just be hearing the monkey man giggling in the next room as the two play a classic game of tug of war.

You thought it was cute, at first.

When you realized it was with your sweater, you put an end to it real quick.

Now in his defense, he didn’t even notice!

Totally calls himself dad to your dog, he spoils the shit out of them.

AVOID PET STORES AT ALL TIMES!

“Hey peaches, you think (dog name) needs this?”

Wukong, no your dog does not need 12 new toys they barely plays with the five new ones you got them at home…

You sometimes bring your dog to Flower Fruit mountain for a small walk and visit which Wukong is ecstatic about.

The dog is strictly only allowed inside the house for their safety but you three definitely do late night cuddles on his couch.

You laying against Wukong on one side and your dog resting its head on the other in his lap.

You open your eyes to look uo and see Wukong gently petting them and gently scratching behind their ear with upmost care.

You smile and close your eyes once more, falling asleep with his arm wrapped around you.

Macaque:

Hilariously, Macaque was kinda nervous around your dog at first.

He won’t admit this to you of course (gotta look all tough in front of you0 but you could tell by the freeze and twitch of his tail.

Didn’t help the your dog was jumping up at his legs.

“W-Woah, hey there little guy…”

He tries so hard to keep his cool, cut him some slack.

However, spending more time with them, he becomes more chill and used to it.

He loves your dog after some time, he even offers to take care of them while your at work.

While your on break, he walks them to your work with some food to surprise you.

“Hey sugar plum, surrrprise.” His smooth voices calls out to you as you sat on a park bench outside your work.

You smile and he kisses your cheek, your dog barking out for you in excitement and you three spend your limited time together.

Lots of dates where your dog tags along, one including going to the dog park.

Macaque was in his human disguise but you could still tell he was a bit unnerved being around so many dogs.

You squeezed his hand, assuring him he was ok and you were there with him.

You couldn’t see it but his tail would’ve flailed like crazy from that.

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januaryembrs · 1 year

Text

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO MASTERLIST

DESCRIPTION: She’s all Steven can think about in between the missing days and the American man inside his head. When Harrow’s jackals leaves Marc with a difficult choice, his hectic life is spun out of control as Seth, God of Violence and Chaos, comes to reap his reward in the form of a woman from Soho with a dark past and a crush on Steven Grant. (Lightly inspired by Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: (specific warnings at the beginning of each chapter) 18+ DARK PAST. Sex trafficking/prostitution. Grooming. Explicit. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Abuse ex-boyfriend/lover, death, murder, gore, drug use. Any smut written will be consensual sex only, but there will be some implication to dubcon content. PLEASE CHECK WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. AGAIN MINORS DNI. * = smut warning

STEVEN GRANT & MARC SPECTOR X (EVENTUAL) AVATAR!READER. Friends to lovers trope (Steven Grant) Sunshine x Grumpy trope (Marc Spector), Light smut, explicit language, no use of Y/N, goes by nickname Dove. I ADORE LAYLA EL-FAOULY so she is still in the narrative but as Dove’s reluctant friend. Female!reader. AFAB!reader. I am English and do not have DID but have tried my best to do all the research I could on the themes I talk about (Ancient Egyptian culture/history/language. Experiencing DID etc) but if I am misinformed and offend anyone, know I am truly sorry and am more than happy to hear anyone’s corrections in my inbox and will do my best to fix it!

main masterlist

CHAPTER ONE - Steven finds his life slowly turning upside down when the man in the mirror starts talking back, he's sleepwalking all the way to the Alps, and the woman he's besotted with from work finds herself more caught up in all of it than he'd ever wanted.

CHAPTER TWO - She wakes up with a killer headache and a million questions when she realises two things: 1. the man in her room is not infact Steven Grant and 2. her body no longer belongs to her but to the God of Death.

CHAPTER THREE - With Marc and Steven captured by Harrow's men, Layla has no choice but to work with her ex-husbands mistress to get them and the scarab to safety. But things take a turn when Seth comes to reap his reward.

CHAPTER FOUR - Dove wakes up in Steven’s apartment for the second time covered in blood with only one thing on her mind. What the hell happened last night?

CHAPTER FIVE - Marc and Dove adjust to their new mission: catch Harrow before he can release Ammit and for the love of gods don’t let Seth have the body again.

CHAPTER SIX - Summoning a council with the gods sound easy enough, right? Except the man on trial knows the dark secret she has yet to tell Marc.

CHAPTER SEVEN - Marc, his ex-wife and his supposed mistress head to Mogart’s to find Senfu’s sarcophagus, whatever could go wrong when the god of Chaos wants to be involved?

CHAPTER EIGHT - Dove, Marc and Layla escape Mogart’s with only more dead ends and questions unanswered. They’re running out of time before Harrow reaches the tomb, but one thing keeps sticking in Layla’s head more than the rest. Why does Dove look so guilty?

CHAPTER NINE * - Layla, Steven and Dove set off towards Ammit’s tomb across the dunes, only Steven and Dove have a heavy confession they’ve each been meaning to make.

CHAPTER TEN - Marc finds out the truth about Dove, and pays the mortal price.

CHAPTER ELEVEN -

CHAPTER TWELVE -

CHAPTER THIRTEEN -

CHAPTER FOURTEEN -

CHAPTER FIFTEEN -

Comment or send an ask to be tagged in new chapters!

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icallhimjoey · 11 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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cvntrlseecvntrlvee · 3 months

Text

home is where the heart is

↠ pairing: wonwoo x reader ↠ genres: fluff ↠ word count: 900~ ↠ a/n: thinking abt bestfriend!wonwoo today 🥺 also ty to @hannieween who always reads all the little drabbles i type into her inbox, that’s how we ended up with this. she also helped write part of it, the an at the bottom will explicitly say which bits!! hope you guys like it uwu

bestfriend!wonwoo who keeps you company after your break up with your shitty ex boyfriend.

bestfriend!wonwoo who lets you lean on his shoulder while you guys watch the latest episode of bake off and you’re ugly crying with a tub of ur favourite ice cream.

how he tries to distract you the next day by inviting you to play mario party because some of the boys are over and he doesn't want you to wallow in your room by yourself.

the way, after the boys leave, he takes you into his arms while on the couch and letting you snuggle into the warmth of his chest as you sniffle a little. wonwoo smells like fresh laundry and he rubs a comforting hand up and down your back.

to you, wonwoo was home.

this is basically yours and wonwoo’s dynamic haha.

and he would never admit it out loud, but he honestly loves it. he loves as you ramble mindlessly, asking him pointless questions about nothing and everything at all. he remains quiet, but every now and then he’ll say is that so? setting you off on another tangent.

you laugh at your own jokes, which makes him laugh as well. it's the kind of laugh that makes his nose scrunch and makes him push the rim of his glasses up a bit.

and when ur away for the weekend, visiting ur parents, and wonu is home alone, the silence is deafening, and he misses you.

he misses you during breakfast, how you'd grumble about having to go to work and rant about the woes of capitalism and the five day work week.

he misses you when he's rewatching the previous episode of bake off on the cold couch alone, and how you'd be telling him about the history of shortbread and something about an alliance between scotland and france.

he misses you when he's out walking the dog after dinner and how you'd be talking his ear off about every little thing that happened to you that day, in chronological order.

wonwoo's life is quiet and greyscale when you're not there and he misses the colour of your laugh and your smile and the sound of your voice.

one night, he finally convinces you to go out to the movies with him. you've been feeling better lately, and you can't remember the last time you cried about your ex.

he buys you the biggest tub of popcorn, making sure the worker slathers it with extra extra butter (even though he knows its gonna give him a tummy ache later). and he watches you fondly as you try to choose between the buncha crunch or mike and ikes (his two favourites) before settling on both.

he also gets you a cola slushie, but your hands get cold from holding the cup, making you clasp them together between your thighs when you finally go to sit down, and he wishes, god how he wishes, he could just grab your hands to warm them up a bit.

you guys decide to see the latest action movie, a genre which you love, but sometimes you can't handle the blood and gore that comes with it. so when the bad guy's about to get sliced to hell, wonwoo quickly throws his hand up to cover your eyes.

you grab his hands to move it away because im a big girl, wonu, i can handle a little blood (except your pants are on fire and you absolutely cannot) but he knows this and does not budge.

and when the scene is finally over and he moves his hand away from your face, you're still holding on to it, not letting go

wonwoo sends you a look but you've got ur eyes glued to the movie, as if holding his hand is a normal occurance (it's not) and you're not freaking out like wonwoo currently is (you are, in fact, freaking the fuck out).

wonwoo settles back in his seat, loving the way your hands feel around his and laces his fingers with yours. you keep his hand in your lap, squeezing everytime sometimes stressful or surprising happens on screen and wonwoo rubs back and forth on the back of your hand when you do.

when the movies over, you still don't let go of his hand, and neither does he. not when you’re picking up ur bag to sling over your shoulder, not when he's picking up the empty food boxes to throw away, and not when you're walking home together in the cool of the night, as you rehash the movie ending, swinging your hands between you when you get a little too excited with your theories

you're both still unwilling to let go of each other's hands when you make it back to your shared apartment, as wonwoo keys in the door code, and it isn't until you're in the hallway, in front of your two bedroom doors, that you realise neither of you want to ever let go.

so you don't.

you let wonwoo hold onto you tightly while you tell him you had a lot of fun tonight and he replies saying he always has fun when he's with you. and you get on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, both of your cheeks warming up.

and it isn't until then that wonwoo let's go of your hand, choosing to instead grab your face with both of his and leaning down to kiss you sweetly

wonwoo tastes like a mix of movie theater butter, fruity candy and salted chocolate.

and best of all, wonwoo tastes like home.

a/n: this is my first time writing something in this sort of format! let me know what you think!! also the first part aboutt he rambling and the bit aboutt he cola slushie are courtesy of v, she's really fab and you all should go read her writing 👀👀👀

here are some lil extra bits that i didn't put into the drabble but i still think are cute to think abt hehe

gif 1 by @jeonsupershy // this wonu when he finally gets the girl he's loved all his life

gif 2 by @meowonhao-main // this wonu when you shyly nod yes to wonu asking you out to a real dinner date

this wonu (yes, im obsessed w this photo leave me alone) when you climb into his lap to snuggle after a really shitty day at work

this wonu when you whine that his kisses are too sweet and you want him to kiss you like a man

this wonu when he's about to ask you to marry him and legally be stuck w his loser gamer ass for the rest of ur life

u when u say yes because he's YOUR loser gamer ass and u love him so SO much 🥺🥺🥺

#seventeen fic #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fanfic #writing #mine #title: home is where the heart is #author: cvntrlseecvntrlvee #band: svt #member: wonwoo

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keldabekush · 5 months

Note

do you have any favorite fic recs that are fox/coruscant guard centered? there are a couple i've found that are really good but a lot of the fox tag is him in a more minor role with the focus on like cody or rex or jedi etc

Yeah i have a few! Here are some that i keep rereading - I'm putting them under the cut!

Politicians In My Eyes by jaigeye

Fox looks down at his armor, awash with blood. There are no identifying marks on him anymore. He's as red as Coruscant

CHTHONIC by catboydogma

Not even two days later, Fox revised his opinion. This wasn’t a disaster. This was a Grade-A, first order, fresh off the hot plate fuckfest. Fox’s day had gone something like this: lay in bed. Get up. Knock back some of the sludge in the mess masquerading as caf. Go through forms. Fill out forms. Bust open a closet in which the Senators for Uyter and Kinyen had both managed to get “stuck” in. Go through more forms. Fill out more forms. Get called up to the Senate dome to tell a Senator that no, the Guard did not address noise complaints. Find that the stack of datapads on his desk had somehow tripled over the last two hours. Despair at the state of his inbox. Etcetera, etcetera. And then.

dead dog (bye-bye baby blue) by batchmates

The way it happens is simple: at some point during your service in the Guard, you’ll lose time. The thing wiping the Guards’ memories gets sloppy and Fox remembers the order not to let Fives leave the surface alive. It changes everything and nothing at all.

Life During Wartime by chermit

Commander Fox has a lot on his plate: managing his Corries, filling out piles of forms, dealing with obnoxious Senators, and not thinking about the way he keeps waking up covered in other people's blood. All that considered, he really doesn't have time to deal with being investigated by the Captain of the 501st and the Head of the Jedi Order for two separate murders he (probably) didn't (want to) commit. But Fox is a soldier, and good soldiers follow orders, so when does he ever get what he wants?

Commander Fox's Guide to Touring Coruscant by kakashikrazy256

The painkiller he had been giving just half an hour prior is still working fine, leaving him relatively...alright. Nothing hurts particularly bad, but there’s a fuzziness layered over everything, making it hard to think too hard on anything beyond the first thoughts running through his head. Go inside. Find the rest. Sit down. Drink. Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t get caught. And...and just be there to properly enjoy the company of his brothers. Don’t forget these memories. / Fox gets injured but decides to keep it secret for the sake of his batchmates. For the prompt 'is that a bloodstain?!'

their days are darker by always_a_slut_for_hc

After the death of ARC Trooper Fives, an altercation at 79's leads Wolffe to spend his leave snooping around the Coruscant Guard. Fox assumes he'll drop it and leave the Corries to their fate; it's what everyone else has done. He is very, very wrong.

The Last Reason by meerlicht

Cody has a scar now, and it’s the only thing that differentiates him from Fox appearance-wise. For one, they both have the same circles under their eyes. Fox assumes that’s what comes with being a Commander. Their hands are the same, too, damaged and bruised at all times. But the biggest difference Fox sees when he looks at Cody isn’t the scar. It’s the rage. Cody doesn’t wear that same rage. Fox’s hands ache with the need to punch something. Or: Fox dealing with Senators, little brothers, the terrifying ordeal of asking for help and a menace called Quinlan Vos.

#ask #answer #fic rec #commander fox

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its-time-to-write · 7 months

Note

I loveeee your taylor swift based jamie fics so i was wondering if u could maybe write one based on question..? You’re amazing at writing conflict between the reader and jamie but ofc ending with fluff and i feel like question is the oerfect outline for a fic like that. Thank you!

once again, I am slowly but surely finishing asks in my inbox! my hyperfixation has been awakened ever so slightly, as well as my need for new Jamie content. enjoy!

half-moon eyes

“What if I don’t go?” you suggest, sprawled out on Keeley’s couch.

“You have to,” Rebecca calls from the kitchen. “It’s non-negotiable.”

“I don’t even work for you,” you say, “so you literally cannot make me.”

Keeley grins devilishly next to you, feet propped up on the coffee table. “You don’t work for me either, and I can make you,” she says.

You groan. “C’mon, Keels, I’m not even on staff at Richmond. Why do I have to go to this benefit? It’s going to be a bunch of rich footballer twats.”

Rebecca places two glasses on the table and sits down. “You’re a rich twat. And you’re our friend. Besides, Keeley and I already bought your dress.”

“You what?” you yelp.

Keeley’s still grinning, except it’s all smug now. “Come on, babe, it’ll be fun. Free food, free booze. Hot men. Besides, it’s for a good cause. You love those.”

You drape an arm over your eyes and say, “Fine. I’ll go. But honestly, it’s just because Ted told me he’d help me get Roy on the dance floor.”

Rebecca and Keeley become a chorus of “oh, come on,” as they whack you with Keeley’s pink fluffy pillows.

—

Keeley and Rebecca are the absolute worst for picking out the dress they did, because it’s perfect.

It’s sleeveless with a halter neck, decorated with giant light blue sequins all the way to the floor, with a slit high enough to add some spice, but still low enough that you won’t feel the need to tug at it every five seconds.

And while you were correct about the rich footballers, you were a little bit incorrect about the “twat” part. Mostly.

You didn’t want to go to the benefit for the same reasons Keeley and Rebecca did want you to go.

Jamie fucking Tartt.

He does no favors for your “good girl” reputation, and yet you’ve found yourself completely enamored with him. You swear to Keels and Bec that it’s just his muscles and his eyes and nothing more, but they got you to admit that you also liked his personality and that’s when you knew you were done.

The whole point of being in a three-person friend group is so that at any given time, two of you can meddle in the third one’s love life.

It’s supposed to always be you and Keeley versus Rebecca, or you and Rebecca versus Keeley.

Not Rebecca and Keeley versus you.

They had successfully gotten you to spend time with Jamie during a team party, one where they snuck you in as Keeley’s emotional-support person then promptly ditched you to flirt with footballers/coaches of their own.

You’d sat in a corner with a book stolen from a shelf, trying to make yourself invisible. Unfortunately for you, Jamie has sharp eyes and a tendency to gravitate toward introverts.

But it doesn’t matter now. You’re in Rebecca’s car headed to that dumb benefit and gripping Keeley’s hand.

“Please don’t leave me this time,” you plead.

Keeley squeezes your hand twice. “Babe, it’s a bunch of people you know. And besides, how are you supposed to get in Jamie’s pants if you’re with me the whole night?”

Rebecca snorts out a laugh as you groan.

“I’m not trying to get into Jamie’s pants,” you say. “I’m literally only here because you made me.”

“Sure,” Keeley says. “And I’m a virgin.”

The car dissolves into laughter along with your nerves, and you feel as ready as you ever will to face the night.

—

“Two please,” you say to the bartender. He turns around to prepare Keeley and Rebecca’s drinks and you sigh, forearms on the counter.

“Rough night?” asks a teasing voice. You turn to see Jamie slide into the space next to you looking fit in a cream suit. He tilts his head a little bit, causing one dangly earring to sparkle in the light.

“Surprised to see you without a book,” he continues. “But no worries, you could always ask Roy for one of his. He’s always got one on him and I think he’s stored one up his-”

“Here you go,” says the bartender.

“Thanks,” you reply, nodding once to Jamie in a way that signals he can leave, but instead of doing so he follows you.

“I can take those,” he says, reaching for the drinks and you automatically hand them to him.

“Thanks,” you say again.

He tilts his head to look at you. “You’re fucking quiet tonight.”

You laugh once, short and grating. “Yeah, well, this isn’t really my thing. I got suckered into it and manipulated into wearing this dress and normally I’m not this uncomfortable, but I don’t really know many people here.”

“You know me,” Jamie says softly, and then you’re at the table.

Keeley looks up in surprise as Jamie hands her a drink but the surprise doesn’t last long before it’s replaced by devilish twinkle.

“Oh, are you two going dancing?” she says.

“N-no,” you stutter, “he was just-”

“Dancing sounds so fun,” Rebecca interjects. “I might join you in a song or two.”

“But we’re not-” you try again.

Rebecca quirks an eyebrow at you. “Aren’t you?”

You turn to see Jamie with his hand out. “Come on,” he says. “It’ll be fun. Swear down.”

You reach for him before your mind can tell you not to, and let him pull you onto the dance floor.

You aren’t the only ones there, it’s actually pretty busy, but there’s only one set of hands on you.

You’re letting Jamie Tartt into your space in a way that no man before has been allowed.

He’s crowding you a little bit, dancing close enough that you’re brushing up against each other and there isn’t really anywhere to go, but you’re fairly certain that the moment you indicated you needed space, he’d be gone.

He’s so close that it’s overwhelming, with the music loud in your ears and the smell of his cologne.

Time seems to slow, music fades, and all that exists are you and Jamie. He reaches out to touch your face and you lean closer, almost at eye-level due to your heels.

He pauses for just a moment so you surge forward and kiss him, vaguely aware of Keeley and Rebecca wolf-whistling somewhere nearby.

Sam looks over and starts clapping, and pretty soon all the Greyhounds within the vicinity are hollering and cheering. You blush and press your hands to your cheeks but Jamie just grins. It’s the cocky, “I got the girl,” grin.

So yeah, sue you if he ended up in your bed.

What were you going to do, act like you were immune to the way he looked at you? The way he talked to you like you were the most interesting person in the room? The way his lips peppered firm kisses up your neck and across your clavicle after you sneaked outside for some “fresh air?”

No, immunity was never an option.

Half of you said it was just a one-night stand and the other half… well the other half told you to consider the facts.

The facts were that you knew he was into you, like full-on romantically attracted because you’d seen his text thread with Keeley.

She hadn’t shown you exactly, just left her phone unlocked on her coffee table, angled toward you while she told you she was going to make tea and it was going to take a long time.

So maybe the way he threaded your hands together while he pressed his body to yours won’t be a one-off event. Maybe you’ll get another chance to hear your name from his lips like it’s the only word he knows.

Maybe.

Except you’re awake at 2am and he’s gone; no note, no text, no nothing. You know for a fact he’s not meeting Roy, so where exactly could he have gone?

You don’t know. You just know your bed is cold and empty and there’s a strange pit in your chest. Maybe Keeley was wrong, and he didn’t like you that much. Maybe he was just looking for one night of fun.

You’d be ok with that, if only you’d known ahead of time. If only you hadn’t gotten your hopes up.

—

It’s a good thing you don’t work at Nelson Road because it means you can avoid Rebecca, Keeley, Jamie, and Ted for some reason, because apparently Rebecca told him everything and he’s incredibly invested in getting Jamie a “good girlfriend.”

Instead, you go to work like normal and accept your coworkers’ invitation to go out.

Kevin got you all into some incredibly popular bar because his girlfriend’s a repo baby, and you can tell from the moment you walk in that it is not your vibe. You’re just grateful you asked what to wear ahead of time.

You go to the bar and say, “Two please,” and feel someone slide into the space next to you. You turn, half expecting it to be Jamie.

It’s not, but he is attractive, objectively speaking. You down your shots and smile as dazzling as possible.

If you’re going to be here, you might as well get the most out of your night. The man next to you smiles back so you take that as an invitation to move a little closer and start flirting.

He buys you a drink and you laugh at his stupid little jokes, reaching out just a little to touch his arm.

Your coworkers are doing there own thing and you’re debating whether or not you actually want to fuck this guy when you feel someone watching you.

You pause a moment to try to get the room into focus but before you can, someone is shouldering their way in between you and whatever this guy’s name is.

“Alright mate, time to go,” Jamie says, and the guy says, “Jesus, sorry, didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t,” you slur but he’s already gone.

Jamie turns to you and says, “I’m getting you home,”

Your skin is tingly and warm and there’s a pleasant haze in your mind, but not so pleasant that you forget the fact that you’re still a little mad.

“Kevin,” you mumble as Jamie slips an arm under your shoulder.

“Yeah yeah, told that rich prick that I was getting you home safe. Recognized him from your website.”

A less-drunk you would have latched onto the fact that Jamie had looked at your website long enough to recognize some of the people you worked with. As it is, all you can think about is sleep. Which reminds you

“Why’d you leave?” you ask as Jamie helps you into the passenger seat.

Jamie stills for a moment before continuing to buckle you in. He gets into the car and sits in silence for a moment.

“Dunno,” he finally says. “It- it was too real for a moment. We’re not the same at all. You’re fucking… good. I’m not, not really.”

“Bullshit,” you reply but you succumb to sleep before Jamie can ask you what you mean.

—

You’re in Jamie’s car again less than twenty-four hours later. Why you agreed to meet him, you’re not sure. But here you are in a deserted parking lot at 8pm, parked as far away from streetlights as possible. Your knees are pulled to your chest, and you’re grateful you opted to wear your favorite over-large hoodie. It gives you the illusion of security, like you can hide.

Jamie on the other hand is wearing a fucking brown Gucci track suit.

“Isaac gave it to me,” he says with a shrug, in response to your raised eyebrow.

That’s been the extent of your conversation for a solid minute, ever since you got out of your car and into his. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to talk first, but you’re not going to. He’s the one who invited you, he’s the one who can figure out what to say.

He does not disappoint.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have fucking left. Don’t really know what I were thinking.”

You snort out a laugh, but his worried face falls so abruptly that you immediately try to take it back.

You say, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. It’s just that there’s no way you don’t know what you were thinking. You’re not stupid, you don’t just accidentally leave like that. And it’s not the leaving that’s the problem, it’s the fact that you didn’t tell me. Or talk to me after at all. So I’m just stuck in my own head trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

Jamie is shaking his head before you’re even halfway done. “You’re right, I do know what I was thinking. It’s like, you’re fucking brilliant, yeah? You do all this cool shit and make a difference and everyone fucking loves you. I went on a tv show to piss of me dad.”

He pauses, staring at the steering wheel. “If I woke up in the same bed as you, I’d start thinking we could be together. That I could have something- real, like. And that isn’t gonna fucking work.” He laughs, once, but it’s void of mirth.

You squint at him. “You could have at least tried.”

Jamie moves uncomfortably in his seat as he says, “That’s how I do shit, ain’t it? Fuck it up before it can fuck me up.”

You both relapse into silence, and you take stock of the way the nighttime glow sits on Jamie’s skin.

His features are softened, much like they looked in your dim bedroom light except this time, his eyebrows are knotted together.

You reach out to smooth them with your thumb before you can stop yourself.

Jamie sighs and leans into your touch and you find yourself cupping his face.

“What if we tried?” you whisper. “I bet we could do it. I’m really stubborn.”

He smiles a little at that, all wistful. “I’d do anything for you,” he responds, “Just don’t worry ‘bout it when it’s time for you to leave, yeah?”

—

What is it that Roy says, that you deserve someone who makes you feel like you’ve been struck by lightning?

You feel more like it’s a meteor.

It looks pretty as it shoots across the sky, almost like it’s a star, but then it lands on you and squishes you flat. There’s no electrifying current, just the inescapable, crushing weight of a giant rock that you thought you could wish on.

Two months. You made it two months with Jamie, and it felt like you were dancing on clouds right up to the moment you tripped.

It’s always something with him. Everything’s for PR, for an angle, for the game. Your relationship… it’s smothering.

It’s not smothering in the way you like, because let’s be real; you would be attached at his hip if you could.

But he seems to think that he can buy his way into your heart, especially during the weeks he has extra training, or an away game, or anything that cuts into your time together.

“It’s too much,” you say through tears one afternoon. “I don’t even know what to do with half of it. You’re spending so much money on me and I’m not ungrateful, but Jamie. I don’t want things. I don’t care that you’re busy, I want you and I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who thinks they can purchase my affection.

Jamie just looks at you, nods once, and walks away. No fight, no nothing.

You’re struck by two conflicting memories at once.

The first being his outstretched hand at the benefit, ready to pull you out of your comfort zone.

The second, his soft voice saying, “don’t worry ‘bout it when it’s time to leave.”

As you watch his retreating figure, you fight the urge to run after him. He’s the one with the self-sabotaging tendencies. You should have realized you were going to end up here sooner or later.

If he doesn’t even think you’re worth fighting for, then what’s the point?

You text Keeley and Rebecca, then get to your bed as fast as you possibly can.

—

Two months is a lot longer than most people think it is. It’s over sixty days of waking up with someone. Of texting them. Of holding them, eating meals with them, of kissing them goodnight.

It only takes two weeks for a habit to develop and now your bed feels far too large and empty.

Keeley’s snoring in what should be Jamie’s spot, unceremoniously sprawled out in some awful satin zebra-print pajamas. It’s better than being alone, but you’d rather have Jamie snoring next to you in some awful satin leopard-print boxers.

—

“Do you believe in soulmates?” you ask Rebecca. You’re laying on her floor while she eats a biscuit.

She asks, “Platonic or romantic?” so you shoot her a questioning glance. “I’m not sure about romantic soulmates, but after seeing Ted and Beard, I abso-fucking-loutely believe in platonic soulmates,” she clarifies.

“Cool,” you say, “smashing, brill, fucking superb.”

“What makes you think Jamie was your soulmate?” she asks. That makes you sit up.

“I didn’t say shit about Jamie,” you say.

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “Darling, it was very heavily implied. And anyway, who else would you be talking about? The last time you had a boyfriend was back when this club was still complete shit. So. Why do you think Jamie was your soulmate?”

“I don’t,” you respond, “I just- I don’t know, we clicked. It was weird. You know we talked before the benefit? We were at this party and… he talked to me. I was hiding because Keeley fucking left me by myself so I stole a book and was reading in the corner, and he sat next to me and started asking me questions. And-” you stop yourself.

“And,” Rebecca prompts.

“And I wish he would have fought a little more. For as great as he said I was, he just walked away like it was nothing. It feels like shit.”

Rebecca stands up only to sit down on the floor next to you. She tells you, “Men are shit with feelings. They never know what they really want until they don’t have it.”

—

You don’t take precautions to sneak out of Rebecca’s office because everyone has left by the time you go, so you walk down the stairs arm in arm as you giggle about something stupid.

“Oh shit, I left my phone on my desk,” she says. “Wait here while I get it?”

You grin and lean against the wall, staring down a decal of Bumbercatch.

You can feel someone watching you and you assume it’s just Declan’s cutout until something moves in your peripheral vision.

“Jesus Christ!” you exclaim. “Jamie?”

“I weren’t trying to scare you,” he says apologetically. “Didn’t know anyone was still here. I was doing a cool down on the treadmill and lost track of time.”

“…Cool,” you reply. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to say in situations like this.

Jamie passes his water bottle from one hand to the other as you shift your weight. Neither one of you are making an effort to say anything, or an effort to leave.

“For Christ’s sake,” comes Rebecca’s voice a few steps above you. “Can you two please just tell each other how you’re fucking feeling? My god Jamie, use your big boy words for fucking once.”

Jamie looks offended for a moment but apparently Rebecca’s words ring a little bit true because he switches from offended to wistful. Again.

“I can’t with that face,” you tell him. “You look like a kicked puppy, and it’s your fault at least eighty percent of the time.”

“I’m leaving,” Rebecca says.

“Wait, but you drove me here,” you say to her back.

She calls, “Cheers,” with no indication that she’s listening to you.

“I can take you home,” Jamie offers.

You tilt your head at him and say, “Yeah, and I can catch a taxi. Or walk. Or anything, really.”

“I’m driving you,” he says. “Just gotta grab my bag.”

“Oh now he fights,” you mutter.

Jamie stills for a moment before heading into the locker room. He’s back so fast you wonder if he was worried about you sneaking out without him.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat, reliving all the times you’ve been here before. You resist the urge to curl up.

It’s a quiet ride over to your house and you take advantage of the fact that Jamie is actively not looking at you. You allow yourself to examine his profile out of the corner of your eye. You miss touching his face, holding his hand. Does he feel the same? Most likely not.

He pulls into your driveway and as you reach for the handle he says, “Oi.”

You still.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really am.”

You explode. “For fucking what, Jamie? What the fuck do you think you’re sorry for? How many times are we going to do this? If one of us were going to have relationship insecurity, I would’ve assumed it’d be me. Hell, everyone thinks that I’m the insecure one. But it’s you! I don’t fucking get it, you ruin every good thing you have because you have stupid fucking thoughts and you don’t fight for what you fucking want, for fuck’s sake.”

“I want you,” he says.

“Coulda fooled me,” you shoot back.

“I do and I know I was being a twat. Went to fucking… therapy. I’m getting better, swear down.”

“Uh huh,” you say. “Bullshit.”

“That’s a fuck-ton of swear words for you,” he comments. “Been taking notes from Roy?” “Piss off,” you reply.

“That’s a yes.”

“Fine. Here’s a nice, clean sentence for you. What do you want?”

“I miss you,” he says without hesitation.

Right.

“And..?” you say.

“And I want you back.”

“Maybe,” you reply. “Possibly. I’ll put you on probation. Cook me dinner and then we’ll talk about it.”

Jamie turns off his car. “Does that mean I can come in?”

You sigh, but it’s with a smile on your face. “Against my better judgement yes, it does mean you can come in. But no funny business. At least not tonight.”

Jamie grins just a tiny bit and says, “Does cuddling count as funny business? I miss holding you?”

“We’ll see how good dinner is.” You open the car door and Jamie follows you close on your heels into your house. You think maybe this time, you’ll both get it right.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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