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#i'm actually glad i talked to her after the day was over because being with the kids really helps me feel better. they're so cute
kikuism · 1 year
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i lived
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astonmartinii · 6 months
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into the arms of another part four | max verstappen social media au
pairing: max verstappen x reader
wedding bells are ringing, but so are charles' ears because no one will stop talking about whether he'll make an appearance on the big day
part one | part two | part three | masterlist | tips
yourusername
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yourusername: a night to remember where you don't remember much of it
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user1: how do i become part of this friendship group? real answers only.
maxverstappen1: how do i get to marry HER?
danielricciardo: i ask myself that everyday
maxverstappen1: that's not very girls support girls of you daniel
yourusername: yeah daniel, not being a girl's girl in the summer of barbie, i thought more of you...
danielricciardo: lets not get ahead of ourselves here
user2: y/n and max tag teaming daniel is my favourite thing from this relationship
danielricciardo: tag team? don't give me any ideas
yourusername: DANIEL?
maxverstappen1: DANIEL?
danielricciardo: do NOT pretend that y'all have not thought about it
maxverstappen1: we are getting married in a week do not proposition us for a threesome in a public instagram comment section
user3: max pretending like he's never thought about it
user4: how did we get to this point
yourbff1: threesome talk aside, we're so hot
maxverstappen1: hard agree
yourusername: i love you
yourbff1: i love you too
yourusername: and i love you too
yourbff1: you meant max didn't you ...
yourusername: maybe...
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maxverstappen1
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maxverstappen1: this is a public service announcement do NOT let daniel ricciardo plan your stag party because you will not remember a single thing
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user7: the way like 80% of the grid were at this except charles ...
user8: wow colour me shocked he didn't invite the one guy who keeps disrespecting his fiancee to the stag party
danielricciardo: ummmmm this is false? you had a great time.
maxverstappen1: maybe i did all i know is that the bathroom on that plane did not enjoy it i don't think i can touch vodka ever again
danielricciardo: that was all you big boy, you don't know your limit
yourusername: glad to see you didn't kill him before our wedding
danielricciardo: i am really not liking the lack of faith in me
yourusername: he's literally passed out in the second picture daniel
danielricciardo: he's just taking a snooze RIGHT @maxverstappen1
maxverstappen1: yeah ... i just needed my beauty sleep
yourusername: erm you don't need any beauty sleep pretty boy
maxverstappen1: oh, why thank you 😊
user9: she's literally marrying you babe and ur STILL BLUSHING WHEN SHE CALLS YOU PRETTY
user10: this is really not a good sign for charles attending the wedding
user11: yall ever get tired of bringing this shit up HE FUCKED UP this is merely the consequences of his own actions.
user12: and according to mr. leclerc him and max aren't friends so why would he be invited?
danielricciardo
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danielricciardo: max is currently passed out on my shoulder after talking for an hour straight about how much he loves y/n so here's my favourite pictures of them before they're officially married.
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user13: why am i actually dead ass crying over this?
user14: no cause the circumstances have been an actual shit show so i'm glad they've managed to get through it and are finally gonna tie the knot !!
user15: i've been in the literal trenches defending y/n and this relationship i deserve an invite to this wedding
yourusername: @maxverstappen1 omg we're so hot
maxverstappen1: i think you're the hot one babe
yourusername: you're literally the hottest man in the world STOP TALKING DOWN ON YOURSELF
maxverstappen1: i know, i know. i'm amazing, sexy and beautiful.
yourusername: TOO RIGHT
user16: is this ^^ positive affirmations
yourusername: yes, he's way too amazing to not believe that himself
user17: so like do they maybe want to adopt me?
landonorris: so as the sexiest groomsmen, can i have the scoop on whether there'll be any sexy bridesmaid
maxverstappen1: who said you're the sexiest?
landonorris: well since charles is out of the running there's a clear winner here - ME
danielricciardo: assuming the best man is not in this conversation cause my face card clears yours
user18: WAIT WHAT
user19: so it's confirmed, he's missing his best friend's wedding over him being petty, all hope in men is gone
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yourusername
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tagged: maxverstappen1
yourusername: no words. love of my life. best day ever. i love you forever maxy
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user25: OMFG IT LOOKS SO BEAUTIFUL
fernandoalo_oficial: a really beautiful ceremony for my favourites, enjoy your honeymoon and make some time for the old man
yourusername: thank you for coming fernando and thank you for the literal snowmobile idk what we'll do with it but thank you
user26: what kind of a wedding gift is a SNOWMOBILE?
maxverstappen1: a sick one? thanks nando
danielricciardo: what a wonderful day, you guys are so perfect together, thank you for letting me be a part of your day
maxverstappen1: HE CRIED AHAHAHHAHAAHA HE LOVES US SO MUCH HE CRIED
danielricciardo: ummm obviously i watched you pine over her for as long as i've known you. you guys deserve this happiness after everything
yourusername: daniel we love you and your speech was so amazing i nearly cried all of my makeup off
user27: the way the old charles would've given such a banging speech i am in mourning
user28: girl it's their literal wedding post leave the comments about charles for once
sebastianvettel: lovely ceremony you too, much love to your future - seb, hanna and the kids xx
yourusername: thank you for coming seb !! love you guys, let us know if you want us to babysit
maxverstappen1: thank you for your support through all of this seb, you guys are the best
user29: so charles really got no one in his corner lol
maxverstappen1
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maxverstappen1: in sickness and in health, the biggest honour of my life is being your husband
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user30: this is my barbie this does not get any better for me
christianhorner: a wonderful ceremony for the loveliest couple, very grateful to be included in your special day.
masverstappen1: thank you for being there for me, and for not standing on y/n's dress with your two left feet
user31: yall gonna give any context?
user32: i think he's referring to the fact that christian filled the role jos would have at the wedding and during the parents dance, christian would've had a dance with y/n !!
user31: i think my heart just melted wedding of the century
user33: seeing all the wedding content without charles is so weird the whole time we've known y/n her and charles were attached at the hip :/
user34: i beg yall leave it out for one day, he could've been there HE HAD THE INVITATION but he didn't so leave it out
redbullracing: officially THE f1 couple 🫶
landonorris: congratulations and all that jazz but WHAT THE FUCK WAS IN THAT PUNCH
yourusername: sorry lando i gave them the uni recipe
landonorris: oscar was sick on my shoes MY BEAUTIFUL SHOES
maxverstappen1: just send us the bill i can hear you bitching from our room
oscarpiastri: for the record THEY sat me next to kimi and seb and i tried to aim away from your shoes but the world was spinning
user35: okay i need to know the seating plan for this wedding ASAP
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excerpt of the podcast interview of y/n y/ln-verstappen.
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yourusername: my honeymoooooooooooooon with my super sexy and lovely HUSBAND
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user36: okay i've had enough of the cute posts WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?
user37: i crack myself up thinking about them setting up a lil tripod to take these
yourusername: and?
maxverstappen1: we're serving cunt x
user38: did yall see y/n's podcast interview?
user39: yes i'm glad she's got her closure now and can fully move on with her life
alexalbon: you guys are so sickeningly sweet i love you morons
yourusername: why thank you alex
lilymunhe: he said he deserves compensation for his half a season of listening to max pine
maxverstappen1: people think i'm embarrassed of that when LOOK AT MY WIFE OBVIOUSLY I WOULD PINE
maxverstappen1: and bro your apology was the open bar at the wedding
alexalbon: you guys are underestimating just how much this guy spoke about y/n
yourusername: fine we'll post in our albon shoes
albon_pets: this is why we love you y/n
user39: no charles comment... you hear that? peace.
note: i hope yall enjoyed this probably final part of into the arms of another. i hope it wasn’t disappointing lol i love this pairing with all my heart. (also wrote this at 4am on my couch after a MASSIVE FUCK OFF house spider came in my room (my dad said he killed it when i woke him up at 2am) but i was too scared to stay) xx
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know me the way you know your childhood scars, like breathing; i wasn't running but if i was i'm glad it was to you.
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tz11 x reader: a small town, a fresh start, a shared heart.
(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling, thigh-riding (this is newish), dirty talk (if you're new, welcome!), mentions of previous relationship being awful, i know i'm forgetting stuff but all my typical things. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)
(a/n: my favorites - i think jd6 getting traded was exactly what i needed in order to write a tz11 character who is actually a nice guy. i call that the best-friend-getting-a-new-best-friend-who-is-named-cam-york effect. anyways, this is long as hell (14k, anyone?), because i have recently been absolutely so over law school guys. i just want a guy who likes to get his hands dirty and actually has friends. too much to ask? okay. obviously, i got so insanely carried away here, as you will be able to tell. we've got about a million side characters, some of which you will recognize, some of which you will not, because i made them up (tell me why i'm so into the matt/bridget dynamic. could write about just them. maybe i will). you guys know that there will be plot holes and dialogue issues and the likes, but you love me anyways, and i love you for that. tz11 should enjoy this, because i know he will inevitably be back in my bad graces soon enough. next up is someone new (!) because i miss when people used to write about tyson jost left and right. hm, what else? tell me what you think, what you'd like to see. my one year anniversary since my first post is feb. 2 (i actually can't believe how fast it went by, and i'm so grateful for you for sticking with me). so, so much love to you and your snakes. go canucks. until next time.
this was probably a terrible idea, you thought, with your suitcases beside you, your head in your hands at the foot of the bed that would be yours for the foreseeable future. one bed of several at a local inn - local to this town, at least, not local to you.
no, you thought, jittery with unknowing and chance and uncertainty, none of this was familiar to you. not this town in the middle of nowhere, hundreds and hundreds of miles from your hometown, your university. not any of the few people you had interacted with, not the uber driver, the inn keeper, the housekeeping staff.
not one part of this place, this experience, not one part was familiar. but that's what you'd wanted, wasn't it? that was the whole point?
you'd wanted to find yourself, wanted to prove that you could take care of yourself, exist on your own, thrive outside of the bubble that was university.
you wanted a fresh start, away from ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, their betrayal still fresh, a wound scabbing over on your heart. you wanted to breathe deeply and not worry about who was watching you exhale - a place where nobody knew you, where nobody could whisper about the girl whose boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend. for three years. she's so stupid, how could she not have noticed?
well, here, you decided, that's what you would get. a humble job as a diner waitress lined up to start tomorrow, a booked room with no check-out date, not a laugh you'd recognize for miles and miles.
this is what you'd wanted, you told yourself, now, loneliness settling in your mouth the way the powder on sour candy does. this is what you have.
completely exhausted from travel and emotional havoc, you passed out that night amidst dreams of fresh starts and trees too tall to see you behind them.
such a lovely image did not last nearly an hour into the next morning, the first day of your new job, just a block or so from the inn you were staying at.
this was part of the reason you had chosen this place for your self-discovery journey, after all - the urgent hiring, competitive wage, amazingly low price for room and board.
you had worked in your university's coffee shop for a year or two to help pay your tuition, so, honestly, how different could it be?
very different, you realized, almost immediately. they were hiring urgently for a reason, which meant there was practically nobody there to train you. one of the line cooks, of all people, just threw you an apron and a name tag to wear over your uniform-compliant black skirt and shirt, mumbled something about a welcome, enunciated something louder about table three needing service.
and so your self-proclaimed new life began completely unceremoniously, with a name-tag that misspelled your name, the smell of waffles and western omelets permeating the air like some grandmother's perfume in an old living room.
at the very least, the business made the time pass quickly, as you paced from table to table, only pausing briefly to introduce yourself to the line, the host, the several curious patrons who asked about you.
"new girl," some impossibly old man husked, "they not have hot coffee where you're from?" he grimaced as he took another sip. "cold as a winter's -"
"okay, that's enough," his companion said, a woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with blonde hair chopped short. she gave you a sympathetic look, like you two were sharing some inside joke. you liked her immediately. "he's had about twelve cups already. don't mind him."
you felt your mouth tick up in a smile for what might have been the first time this morning as you introduced yourself to her, and her father, who you learned everyone affectionately called "old man peters." you learned that the young woman's name was bridget, and she insisted on giving you her number, in case you had any questions, or wanted to get together, or needed anything at all.
your day was already looking up, you thought, as you lifted your sulking ponytail from you back, loose strands curling at the nape of your neck, around your ears. bridget and old man peters bid you goodbye, and then the young host, a boy who stuttered so much over his name that you still didn't quite know what it was, sheepishly alerted you that he had seated a group at the booth in your section.
your flipped to a new page in your notepad as you walked back to the booth, your gaze quickly being tugged up by a drawl-ish voice blurting out "dibs! i call dibs!"
such as exclamation was followed by several groans and one "not fair, you're the only one facing the door."
your brow was slightly scrunched in confusion when you stood at the head of the group's table, four pairs of eyes faced to you in a way that made you feel like a politician about to give a speech.
you cleared your throat, not quite looking anyone in the face. "good morning," you said, "can i get you guys started with some drinks?"
you looked up from your notepad, clicking your pen against the surface of it, taking in the table of - well, you weren't really sure. construction workers, maybe? craftsmen? the four of them had on heavy canvas-like jackets, worn and worked in, highlighter-bright shirts underneath, callused hands that your observant eyes took note of immediately. they were young, too, probably about your age, which made you blush, only a little. these were not the kind of guys you had met in college, the kind who you would have taken a class on freud with, the kind who thought everything with a woman's hand around it was a phallic symbol.
"just coffee," one of them said, short. he tacked on a please when one of his friends smacked him lightly on the back of the head.
you motioned with your pen around the whole table. "for everyone?" you asked, but the question stumbled out of your mouth when your eyes caught on the last of the four, the one on the bench on the right, closest to you.
that sharp face, high cheekbones and cut jaw, should have been so serious, you thought, like some kind of statue, the kind your art history friends would have fawned over in a museum you didn't really want to go to. he should have been so serious, angular like that, but he was anything but. mirth danced in his eyes, so bright they almost sparkled. his full mouth was fixed in a sort of perpetual smirk, so ready to laugh that he was already halfway there. he had the lines around his eyes that told you his full smile would tear you in two.
you were probably staring at him, you realized, flushing deeper as his smirk broke free into something wider, all over his face.
"see, guys," he spoke, that goofy drawl you had noticed on your way over, nothing like the pretentious academics who spoke in circles. he leaned back in the booth. "doesn't matter that i called dibs. she likes me best anyways."
your face scrunched up in some combination of disbelief and hidden delight. "wait," you began, "when i was walking over here, when you said something about dibs," you fixed him with what you hoped was a glare, "you were calling dibs on me?"
he shrugged off his jacket, drawing attention to his wide shoulders, arms thick even through his bright long sleeve. you snapped your gaze back to his eyes, which shimmered, telling you that you'd been caught. "what's the big deal?"
you scoffed, blew a stray curl from your eye line. "you don't call dibs on people," you said.
"yeah, trevor," one of his friends teased, "what's wrong with you?"
"where to begin?" one of the others said, almost lost in thought.
"c'mon, sugar," trevor said, tilting his head, "'s a compliment, yeah?" his gaze rolled down your frame, almost gelatinous, meeting your eyes again reluctantly. "only 'cause you're so pretty, hm?"
you rolled your eyes, fixed your gaze on the one across from him, the one who looked the least engaged. "but, trevor," you whined, stretching out his name like salt-water taffy, "what if i wanted-" you paused, looked down at the blonde just below you.
"matt," he said, practically bored. you nodded your thanks.
"what if i wanted matt?"
his posture grew even more relaxed as he shifted his knees wider under the table. "oh, what if, sugar?" he mused, his eyes so expressive, never off of you for a moment.
"she's gonna spit in your coffee," matt said.
"how about we cut out the middle man and she just spits in my mouth?" he chirped, smirk so telling it made you flush pink.
you mumbled something about decorum before walking away in a flurry of annoyance and excitement. you couldn't really tell the difference, you realized, as you gave the poor host a pot of coffee and asked him kindly to drop it off at the back booth.
you were not something to be called dibs on, that was for sure, and you were here to find yourself, not anyone else, certainly not some guy. even if some guy had soft-looking hair and a witty mouth. even then.
you took a stabilizing breath and got back to work, noting that the back booth only got coffee, only stayed for about twenty minutes before making to leave, heavy jackets loud as they shrugged them back on.
three of the guys called out their thanks and headed out, leaving only a standing trevor there when you approached to settle their bill. thumbing through his wallet, he grinned down at you when you finally stood in front of him again.
he was taller than you thought, you realized, as he now stood at full height. you had to crane your neck slightly to look him fully in the face.
"thought you'd be shorter," you said, honestly, hoping to knock him down a peg, however mean that might have been. but of course he only smirked.
"get that a lot," he drawled, selecting a bill, putting his wallet back in his pocket with hands you had to force yourself not to stare at. "been told 've got the personality of a short guy in the body of a tall one."
you shook your head. of course someone had told him that.
you couldn't really ruminate on that, though, as he stuck the twenty in the front pocket of your apron, as well as something with a slight weight to it, urging an angry pink to the tops of your ears, the feeling of his wide hand warm, so close to you.
you peered up at him, sucked on your teeth as he pulled out his hand slowly, that ever-present smirk almost faltering at your gaze.
"thanks for the service, sugar," he said, and you probably imagined the way the end of his words sounded strained. "see you around, yeah?"
you didn't break eye contact, only let yourself smile back at him before turning and getting back to work, letting the push and pull of waitressing lull you into a rhythm during which it was practically impossible to think too heavily about bright eyes and broad shoulders.
by the end of your shift, you had been officially tired out. you were sure your hair reeked of coffee, and your ankles ached from standing all day.
going to empty your apron, however, right before you left, your hand settled on the bill from earlier, but also several wrapped butterscotch candies. your face contorted as you stared at them, wondering why trevor had put them there.
exhaustion won over curiosity though, as you thanked everyone for your first day and walked the short block back to the inn.
this won't be that bad, you were thinking to yourself as you walked up the stairs. you already had the phone number of a maybe-friend, after all, and as far as jobs went, this one could be a lot worse. good money, good way to meet new people, maybe even something pretty to look at -
as if summoned by your thoughts, when you turned out of the staircase to your hallway, there trevor was, standing on a ladder, looking into the ceiling, some box of tools on the floor.
you narrowed your eyes, bag suddenly feeling heavy on your shoulder. the presence of a new figure drew his gaze to you, and you had to scold your heart, the way it beat like a teenager at the way he looked at you, then. you didn't know him, after all, and you weren't here for anything romantic.
"you followin' me, sugar?" he asked, stepped down from the ladder, making his way over to you. his voice was slow and tired, from whatever he had done that day. you were shocked at the fact that you wanted to know what that was. his gaze shone as he gently took your bag from your shoulder and slugged it onto his own, fell into step beside you. you let him. "tell me you're following me."
you rolled your eyes, but the small smile on your face wasn't going anywhere. "this is where i'm staying," you explained, "so, if anything, you're following me."
you stopped in front of your door, leaned back against it, suddenly in no rush to lock yourself behind it, alone. not when he was on this side of the door, looking like this.
almost weary with hard work, but not weary enough to sour him, just enough to make his movements and expressions slightly slower, lazier, more indulgent, like they were drenched in chocolate ganache. not when he was here, looking at you like this, like you were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.
after years at some preppy, pretentious university, at which ingenuity was the most valuable currency, one you felt you lacked so disgustingly, was it really too surprising that you softened under his gaze? that you wanted to stay in it, just a little bit longer?
"sugar?" he asked, head tilted, and you realized he had been talking.
"sorry, what?" you asked, your voice soft like sponge cake, willing your eyes to focus, your mind to focus harder.
he didn't tease you too badly, though, only let his smile grow sharper with a smirk. "i said that 'm sorry if i hurt your feelings with the dibs stuff," he said, and you were almost confused at his apology. you weren't even upset, and when was the last time someone had apologized to you so quickly after doing something?
your memory cut hazily to your ex, somehow trying to convince you it had been your fault that he cheated on you, that it was something you were lacking that had inevitably led him to do that. you practically shivered, then internally scolded yourself for comparing trevor, whom you had met today, you reminded yourself, to your ex-boyfriend.
"'s fine," you said, waving him off, your back softening further into the door. "didn't really hurt my feelings."
his eyes flashed. "didn't really or didn't, sugar?" he asked, searching your face.
you swallowed, acutely aware of his attention, how it slid down your nose, your cheeks, your jaw, slow and thick as sludge. "didn't."
he gave a nod. "'m sorry anyway," he said, and it came out low. "if you really want to go for matt, i won't stop you."
and part of you wanted to blurt out i don't want matt!
but it was your first day in this place, and honestly, you were still kind of hung up on his apology, and the way it sounded from his chapped lips, and you knew to correct him would be exactly what he wanted.
so you just said "thank you," and were shocked at how gentle it sounded.
"jesus christ, distracted, are we, trev?" the voice of the young inn-keeper called from the end of the hallway. he seemed awfully chipper as he approached, hands in his pockets. "i came up to check on your progress," he said, "or lack thereof, i guess." he looked between the two of you. "now i see who's stolen your attention."
"i'm on my legally-required fifteen minute break," trevor said, half-smiling, turning back to you. "sugar, you know my brother, griff?"
you nodded, suddenly clocking the subtle ways their appearances drew from each other. trevor was taller, griff had a wider face, bigger features. but they had the same eyes, same strong nose, mirroring grins. "he owns my room," you said, dumbly, tiredly.
griff only smiled. "she's had a long day, trev, leave her be."
trevor searched your face again, seemed to find all the proof he needed - your heavy eyelids, drooping shoulders. he gently handed your bag back to you. "i'll see you tomorrow, sugar," he said, as soft as you'd heard him. so soft it startled you. "sweet dreams."
"goodnight," you said to both of them, shutting the door behind you. sleep came easily that night, again, with dreams less so of hiding behind trees and more so of rough hands and laughing eyes.
you were surprised, pleasantly so, at how quickly you fell into a routine in your new home. surprised at how quickly you let yourself call this place that.
maybe it was the way that bridget wasn't just being polite when she had given you her phone number, as she had quickly set up dates to show you all her favorite hiking spots around. your weekly hikes with her became a highlight as she told you more about the town, about her young daughter, about book club, about anything and everything. she was so kind with you that you found yourself so comfortable confiding in her. it felt so easy calling her a friend.
maybe it was the way the town seemed to accept you as one of their own so quickly and genuinely. the line cooks flirted with you in the way only line cooks do (in ways that would not be acceptable outside of a kitchen). they made you food to take home, kept you from starving. the host, harry, began to trust you enough that he asked for your help on homework. the regulars began to recognize you, know your name, ask how you were doing. griff checked in on you, asked if anything was wrong with the room, said you should feel free to use his kitchen anytime (as your room was the simplest kind, and didn't have any cooking appliances). you began to know the names of the streets, the stores, the store owners. your fresh start was starting to feel like just that - a start.
or maybe it was that same group of guys who came in every morning, at the same time, who ordered only coffee and then left in a flush of waves and heavy jackets and called-out salutations. you learned that the one with the curly hair, alex, was the quietest, probably the smartest. his closest friend, cole, was the shorter one, who had the loudest laugh. and matt was warming up to you, you thought. the more you made fun of trevor, the more he seemed to like you.
it was that same group, every day, who came in loudly and left louder, who had paint and dirt smudged on their shirts, their hands. who drank coffee like it was water. who laughed like it was easy as breathing, and maybe that was how it was supposed to be.
and, of course, there was trevor, who, the more you got to know him, the more trouble he became. every day, his "good morning, sugar," would reverberate through your chest, and you would drop a pot of coffee at their table, ask how they were doing, listen for their answers.
some comments about how old man peters' roof is caving in, and he should have told them about it probably a year ago, or about how the police chief's plumbing is fucked, or about how they were going over to fix bridget's sink that day. and, if it was the last one, matt would flush, which would make your eyes widen, would make you pepper him with questions about his crush.
and then, at some point during their morning break, trevor would ask something about you, about how you were, about the way you were wearing your hair, the shoes you were wearing, the book you had been reading the week before. and then, as he left, without fail, he would slip a bill and several butterscotch candies into your apron pocket, each time his hand growing heavier, more significant as it settled so close to you.
it didn't particularly help your small crush that you saw him everywhere. he was always fixing something - in the diner, at the inn, in the park downtown. you couldn't escape him and his deft hands, his working mind, his strong frame and easy laugh and addictive smile.
he was everywhere, so of course he would be here, at the grocery store, after your shift one day. you were roaming the isles, looking for a specific kind of vinegar, your basket hoisted up onto your hip, when a low whistle made you turn. you were met with that lazy smirk, your favorite one of his, the nighttime one, the tired one. he approached you, his work boots heavy on the ground.
"you followin' me, trevor?" you asked, repeating what become something of an inside joke between the two of you.
"maybe," he said, looking down at you, shimmering eyes framed by long lashes. "do you want me to be following you, sugar?"
you hummed, noncommittal, some harmony between the fluorescent lights above, the whir of the fridges the next isle over. you turned back to the shelving, resumed your survey of the contents. "your brother offered his kitchen for me to use while he's out tonight," you said, not looking at him.
"did he?" trevor mused, an almost undetectable bite in his tone.
you nodded, eyes alight with excitement. "been eating pancakes and chicken noodle soup for weeks now," you said, referring to what the line cooks sent you home with. "swear my mouth's watering just thinking about something different." you ran a thumb along your bottom lip, as if checking for spit.
if you had been looking at trevor, you would have see his shallow swallow, the way his eyes tracked your movement, how his gaze hung from your mouth like lacy ribbon. he cleared his throat.
you finally located the vinegar you wanted, on the very top shelf. pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, you reached the tips of your fingers for the bottle, only just out of reach.
trevor only chuckled as he grabbed the bottle easily, took the basket from your hip and into his own hand, dropping the vinegar into it.
"i can carry that, you know," you said, suddenly wishing you had something to do with your hands.
"i know," he said, smug.
you rolled your eyes, huffed a thank you, anyways.
"so, what're you making?" he asked as you led him from aisle to aisle, loading your basket with ingredients.
you explained to him how, in college, this one salad had been your absolute favorite to make when you needed something that made you feel good. something about the combination of arugula, kale, chickpeas, sweet potato, whatever other vegetables you had on hand, sometimes chicken, if you were feeling fancy, something about the simple dressing of oil and vinegar - it was perfect. no meal left you feeling as good as this one did.
and it was how you had made it entirely on your own, too - it wasn't some fancy steak dinner your ex had buttered you up with after a fight, it wasn't boxed brownies shared with your old best friend the night before you found out - no, this was all you.
when you looked back at trevor, there was something molten in his gaze. "sounds amazing," he said, low, like he didn't want anyone else to hear.
you tilted your head, let your smile slant across you face, scrunched up your nose, teasing. "would you want to join me for dinner, trevor?"
his face split into a grin. "i would," he said, "i would want to, please."
and so you found yourself fumbling around someone else's kitchen with an audience, washing kale and peeling sweet potatoes with fingers that twitched towards the figure across the counter, practically irritated that they weren't touching him.
you scolded your hands to behave, which became easier as the night went on, as conversation flowed like cranberry juice, the flavor of it lingering in your mouth just the same.
he might ask you about how the diner was going, to which you would look around as if to make sure no one was there. his eyes would flash. you would miss this.
"harry's been making some real progress in precalc," you would say from behind your hand, speaking of the host, whom you had come to view very fondly. "and you didn't hear it from me, but i think he's going to ask his friend jason to the school dance next weekend."
you would be flushed with excitement and pride, and trevor wouldn't be able to get much beyond that, honestly, the way it lit you up from the inside out.
but then he would clear his throat, and lean forward on his hands, and tell you that if harry needed help asking jason to the dance, he knew exactly the best crew for the job.
"don't tell me you're talking about your rag-tag group of misfits," you would say, cocking a brow as you dressed the kale and arugula.
and he would feign offense, place a broad hand over his heart. "i'll have you know that this group of misfits went 16/16 in high school dance invitations," he would say. "all four of us, all four years."
you might roll your eyes. "real band of heartbreakers, were you?" you would say.
and laughter would shine behind his eyes like christmas tree lights behind store windows, and he would stretch his arms above his head, lazily, comfortably. "'course not," he would say, his voice the sort of raspy that comes with stretching, "only alex."
and this would pull a real laugh from you, as you tossed everything together, the kind of laugh that rung in his ears, that made him pleasantly dizzy.
as the night passed on, time moving altogether too fast and the kind of slow that oozes, you would learn about how he grew up in this town, how he went to trade school, how he had had the same friends his entire life. you would ask questions about if he ever felt the desire to leave (not really), how he got into manual labor (he never really felt like he was that good at anything else), what his family was like (close, but not overbearingly so).
and, in turn, between bites and sips and laughs, you would tell him about how you grew up (humbly), what school was like (hard, but rewarding), how you ended up here (cheap housing, good job, close community). and maybe you would actually tell him about the ultimate betrayal you had faced before you left, why that made you want to be somewhere, anywhere else, somewhere where you had no choice but to make a life entirely for yourself.
at the mention of your ex his jaw might clench, his mouth twitching ever so slightly. he would mutter something about nonsense, and you would smile.
he would ask questions about your family (just your dad and you), your favorite parts of your life here (hikes with bridget, homework sessions with harry, bickering with old man peters).
and he would pout, at that, his bottom lip looking so positively delicious it stole your breath. "'m not your favorite, sugar?" he would plead, joking.
maybe you would really look in his eyes, then, find something hot, tilt your head. "you wanna be?" you would ask, breathier than you intended.
and he would smirk, somehow flipping the dynamic on its head entirely with only a single expression. "you know i do, sugar," he would tell you, low and so loaded you would blush.
it might scare you how easily you let him in, how quickly you were warming up to him. his pretty face might scare you, because pretty faces had hurt you before. there had been no one prettier than your old best friend, after all, and look how that turned out.
so, when the night grew viscous, and the meal was long over, the dishes done, a portion for griff packed up in tubberware on the counter, when he walked you upstairs to your room, both of your steps slow, reluctant, when his gaze lingered on your lips and the smell of him grew distracting, the height of him all-consuming, even then, even though you wanted to, you didn't kiss him. you only bid him a gentle goodnight.
"thank you for tonight," he would say, instead, looping his arms around your neck, hugging you close to his chest. this was so much worse, you thought, as you breathed him in, wrapped your own arms around him and squeezed. the way he held you like he was afraid what would happen if he let go. his hair so messy and his tone so genuine it almost hurt. "sweet dreams, sugar," he said into your hair before pulling away.
even though, that night, you might have dreamed about how his rough hands might feel as they held your soft cheek, how his chapped lips might slot against your glossed mouth. even if you woke up, that next morning, practically sweating. not the sweetest of dreams.
today was your day off. you had plans later with bridget, but you decided to book a haircut and blowout at the salon downtown, since you had the whole morning to yourself. the salon was one place you hadn't been in, yet, and you hadn't had a haircut in months, so you figured now was a good a time as any.
the bell above the door rang when you stepped inside, but no one seemed to notice over the shrill thrum of hair dryers, sinks, and the steady stream of gossip that you appeared to have walked in on.
"she told me her trevor went on a date, julia," one of the stylists said seriously, her eyes expressive as she sectioned her client's head of long curls. "won't stop rambling on and on about her, she says."
your heart jumped in your chest at trevor's name, sunk accordingly. he had been on a date? you weren't sure why you had assumed you were the only girl in his life at the moment, but it stung, nonetheless. you pulled at a thread on your long sleeve, eyes down.
you can't be upset, you told yourself, don't you dare be disappointed-
"oh, honey, how long you been waiting?" one of the stylists called out, making her way over to you and the front desk. "swear you have to throw somethin' at one of us when you come in or we'll never stop talking." she had such an easy way of speaking, a comfortable posture, a genuine face.
"sorry," you said, looking around, still recovering from what you'd overhead.
she just waved you off with a smile. "it's us motormouths who should be apologizing," she said before introducing herself as ginger. "now, what name is your appointment under?"
you told ginger your name, and as soon as you did, her eyes sailed up to meet yours again, wide and bright. she snapped her fingers, getting the room's attention. "you're the doll who stole our baby trevor's heart!"
you blushed furiously, felt the words in your mouth twist and tangle like a toddler's hair. "me? no, that can't be right," you said. there's no way last night counted as a date, you thought. there's no way he's talking about me.
the other stylist just squealed as you were led to a chair. "of course it's you! look at her, julia," she said to the woman in her chair, practically elated, "what a treasure!"
your blush wasn't going anywhere any time soon.
"that boy's been talkin' to 's mama 'bout you, honey," julia said from her chair, her expression knowing. "he's just about smitten, she says."
"and a mother always knows," ginger said, emphasizing her words with hairbrush gestures.
so you spent your appointment getting a couple inches off, hearing about the trouble trevor used to get in when he was younger (apparently alex used to be the biggest troublemaker, though), hearing about how trevor just went around fixing whatever anyone needed fixing.
"swear that sweet boy wouldn't charge a dime if this town'd let him," ginger said as she worked long layers into your hair, "we have to sneak payment into his pockets, and even then he tries to give it back!"
your cheeks burned, your heart heavy with affection as she blew out your hair, leaving it soft and smooth. you paid, said goodbye for about ten minutes, found out just how hard it was to escape salon conversation.
"now go show off for our baby, honey!" someone called out the door after you, making you laugh. you guessed that all the stereotypes about small town hair salons were true.
you went on your weekly hike with bridget, who gave you that understated grin when she saw you. "looking good," she said, bumping her shoulder into yours. "trev doesn't stand a chance."
you rolled your eyes. "didn't get my hair cut for him."
she laughed. "i know," she responded, "but all anyone can talk about this morning is your date last night."
you couldn't help but scoff good-naturedly. "i can't believe people already know about this," you said, "it was literally last night, and it wasn't even a date."
she waved you off. "nobody cares about the logistics. even my girl was moping to me about it. she's got a little crush on her skating instructor."
"trevor teaches your daughter how to skate?" you asked, having never heard of this.
she nodded. "he's the highlight of her week," she said, her eyes soft, picturing her daughter's unabashed smile.
"get in line," you mumbled, covering your face with your hands.
why was everyone so intent on revealing adorable information about trevor to you today? didn't they know he already took up enough of your daily headspace?
"can't somebody tell me he hates animals, or something? or that he's really pretentious about art? or that he has, like, some weird fetish?"
bridget laughed. "sorry, babe," she said, "he's the town's sweetheart."
you were still reeling with all of this information when you got back to the inn, your face rosy from the outside chill, your body pleasantly awake from your walk.
you began up the stairs, humming to yourself, ready to collapse onto your bed, maybe catch up on some reading.
"you followin' me, sugar?"
you looked up, immediately, feeling your pulse in your neck, in your teeth.
there he was, of course, there he was, painting the railing in the stairwell, the sharp smell of paint faint in the air.
all dirtied up from the day, that slouch that only appeared in the late afternoon, that crinkly smile, all of it made him almost too good to be real.
"maybe," you said, like second nature now, after all those times before, his face forcing a tiny smile from your mouth.
you stood just in front of him now, held your breath as he reached up, twirled a strand of your hair around a finger. he let out a low whistle you felt in your stomach.
"lookin' awful pretty tonight," he said, not much more than a whisper as he thumbed the soft ends of your freshly-cut hair.
his words settled like thick caramel on your tongue. "thank you," you mustered, your mind spinning with all of the wonderful things you had heard about him, today.
he bent down to one knee in front of you as you collected your thoughts. "um, what are you doing?" you said, strained, dumb.
he looked up at you through those girlish lashes, smirk heavy on his perfect face. he tugged your foot closer to him. "shoe's untied," he said, gesturing to your sneaker. "may i?"
you blinked at him before nodding, because what alternate universe was this? you tried to imagine any other man you'd known willingly getting on the floor for you, just to tie your shoe. you couldn't.
he tightened your laces with nimble hands.
you cleared your throat. "heard something funny today from the ladies at the salon," you told him, trying to focus on something other than his proximity.
he hummed. "nothin' good, i'll bet," he mused, "ginger loves a good story."
"it was a good story," you said, reveled in the way his expression softened, giving you the courage to press on. he began to tie a double knot. "'bout how you're tellin' your mom we went on a date."
he pulled the bow tight, looked up a you for a second, a guilty, childish grin on his face, caught red-handed. you extended a hand to him, helped him back to his feet.
"oh, yeah," he said smugly, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall, easy, comfortable. "like how you asked me to dinner, and then cooked for me, and how it 100% was a date-"
you laughed, shook your head. "it was not!" you said, "i never said it was a date!"
he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "call it wishful thinking, then, sugar."
and you couldn't focus too much on what he meant by that, so you just shook your head again. "you're too much," you said, wanting it to come out teasing, but instead there was a breathy sort of desperation behind it.
"yeah?" he asked, that smirk present as ever. you had grown so close to him without realizing it, now just a step away. him leaning back against the wall, you right in front of him, looking up at him.
you nodded, swallowed, your blood hot, your skin prickly, alive.
his eyes fixed you in place, teasing. "too much for you, sugar? can't take it?"
you bit your lip to stop any sound from escaping you, because everything seemed entirely too loud, then. you could hear your heartbeat, you swore you could hear his, the radiator could have been screaming at you. you didn't dare think about just how much you wanted to take.
to stop yourself from doing something much more serious, you simply reached your hand forward, swiped at a spot of paint on his face with your thumb.
your touch against his brow bone felt like an exhale, like melting wax. you could feel his warm breath on your hand as you pulled it back, but then he was looking at you, like that, like you were so, so special, like he would have doused his face in paint just to have your hands wipe it all away, and were you imagining the way his gaze grew fiery?
"trev! old man peters says his sink's still leaking!"
griff's voice rattled down the stairwell, smothering the flames in your eyes, if only just. just enough to break the spell, to pull away, to tell him you'd see him tomorrow for his coffee break, for his hungry gaze to follow you up the stairs until you were out of sight.
and so the routine continued, more butterscotch candies slipped into aprons, more pestering his friends, more slyly asking bridget what she thought about matt (she was deflecting, you'd observed, delighted). more helping with homework and reading in bed and cooking and snapping at old man peters to stop leaving his watch behind.
more stolen touches and longing glances and sideways smiles, backwards hats and work gloves stuffed in pockets, damp hair sticking to your neck, the hem of your skirt brushing against your thigh. more flame and softness and sweetness drenching your frame as he said hello, and goodbye, and sweet dreams, and anything else. that coil inside of you twisted tighter and tighter as you wondered what exactly was holding you back, what exactly you were waiting for.
one day, after work, there was a knock at your door. you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit disappointed when you opened it.
"you coming?" griff said, "town hall meeting starts in 5."
you scrunched up your nose. "town hall? what, is it required?"
he smiled, kind. "no, but they're usually a good time," he said, "and trevor's going to be there."
you had your jacket in your hand already. "he's not the reason i'm coming," you said, following him out the door and down the street.
"i won't tell anyone," was all griff replied, his smile understanding and gentle.
you had never been to a town hall meeting before. you'd guessed that the closest thing you could imagine was a student government meeting, which you'd been a part of in college.
this seemed much more laid back, though, taking place in the middle school gymnasium. it looked like almost everyone from town was here. you noticed old man peters, sitting with bridget, her daughter buzzing around from person to person. the salon ladies were talking to pretty much everybody. there was harry, sitting next to his mom. you approached bridget as griff went up to talk to the fire chief, one of his close friends.
soon enough, the meeting began, the first issue on the docket being the prospect of a stoplight on the intersection of drysdale avenue and york street.
bridget yawned, "same issue every meeting," she whispered to you. "always divided down the middle." this time was no different, you observed, the parents in the crowd seemed completely for the stoplight, the older crowd significantly against.
"next issue, a write in from the community, quote," the representative began, reading from notecards, "should the implementation of the 'dibs' rule be observed seriously, unquote." he cleared his throat, looked up to the crowd. "thoughts?"
you stifled an embarrassed laugh, held your face in your hands as bridget rubbed soothing circles in your back. "is this actually a real-life discussion topic?" you asked, incredulous.
"just let them have their fun," she whispered in a way that made her smile evident.
"i think 'dibs' is outdated and juvenile," a woman said, "sets a bad example for the kids."
the man up front was taking notes.
"i think it's cute," bridget piped up from her chair.
"me, too!" her daughter giggled, jumping into her lap.
"alright, i've got two for cute, one for bad influence," the man said, "anyone else?"
"i think it's lame," a very matt-like voice said, gruff, short.
"one for lame," the scribe said aloud.
"well, i think you're lame," that goofy drawl called out, making you pull your head up, look around until you spotted him, near the front. he was swatting matt on the back of the head. "and i learned it from alex, so take it up with him."
his curly-haired friend hid a smirk. "it's a high school move," he explained to the crowd, before turning to face trevor. "we haven't done it in years."
"until now," trevor amended, "but you guys understand. you've seen her. you've talked to her."
ginger put her hand over her heart as if swooning.
someone coughed. your face was burning up. bridget nudged you gently.
"she's here, trev," griff said, to which the fire chief let out a hearty laugh.
"really?" he turned to face the crowd, his voice excited, hopeful, searching. "where are you, sugar?"
you raised your hand, of all things, immediately wanted to smack yourself. "hey," you said, mousy.
"hey," he parroted, mocking, but of course not maliciously. his smile broke you apart.
and then you were having a conversation with several rows of people in chairs between you, on a gymnasium floor.
"you're the only one with the dibs curse on you," he said, "so what's your take on it? should we abolish the practice for good? is it outdated?"
you swallowed, were looking only at him as the scribe sat at the front, pen at the ready. "well," you began, "it works, from what i can tell." his smile put you together again. "so it can't be that outdated."
his eyes shone, only for you. "you heard her," he said, "case closed."
"are we actually still talking about this?" old man peters asked, to bridget, but much too loudly.
the rest of the meeting passed, absolutely delivering on laughs and nonsense, as promised.
"last thing before we go," the man said, "does everyone have a ride to the away game tomorrow?"
you leaned over to bridget. "what's that?"
"the rec hockey team is away this weekend," she whispered.
"rec hockey?" you said, confused, "like kids?"
she shook her head. "like kids, yes, but not kids."
"sugar, do you have a ride?" trevor's voice rang clear against the mumbled chatter of the room.
you looked up, met his eyes again. "uh, i don't think i'm going?" you said.
there was a collective gasp, followed by silence. your eyes widened. "babe," bridget whisper-screamed at you. "everyone goes."
you cleared your throat, realizing your grave error. "well, then i don't have a ride."
"you can ride with me, honey," ginger said, sweetly, with a warning in her eye.
"trevor has to go super early since he's playing," bridget whispered from next to you. you nodded, signaling that you had heard her.
"thank you!" you called out.
rides were sorted, the meeting ended, everyone saying their goodbyes, folding chairs scraping against the waxy floor. trevor and his friends caught up with you and bridget on your way out.
trevor slung a heavy arm around your shoulders that you couldn't help but lean into. he smelled like sawdust and something citrusy. "i didn't know you played hockey," you said, looking up at him curiously, not letting yourself ruminate on how good he felt slotted against your side.
he shrugged.
bridget scoffed. "he's good, too," she said, "i hate to pump his tires, but only the best teacher for my baby girl." she pressed a kiss to the cheek of her smiley daughter, whom she had hoisted up onto her hip. "all of them play," she said, a vague gesture to the group. "lit it up in high school."
"not all of them are as good, though," trevor said, which caused some annoyed groans.
"what about heartbreaker alex, over here?" you teased.
"heartbreaker alex has grown up since junior year," alex said, soft spoken. "and it's not my fault my hair looks like this."
the shortest friend of the group, cole, the one with the loudest laugh, whom you had come to rely upon for book recommendations, put a hand in line with his brow bone, as if blocking out the sun to search for something.
"what are you doing?" alex asked.
"oh, me?" cole said, "just looking for all the girls you must be getting, since you've still got all that hair."
alex rolled his eyes, the group laughed.
"what about you, matt?" you asked as trevor held open the door, all of you stepping out into the night air. "i've heard the team's got a perfect record for dance invites. any high school stories?"
matt didn't say anything for a second, but bridget laughed. "you're really telling people that, trev, as if i didn't ask him freshman year?" she nodded towards matt, who was actually blushing, you thought, but the dark made it hard to tell. "was a tough sell, eh? he was so quiet when i asked i thought he pretending that i wasn't there."
"oh, we remember," cole said, tone alight with understanding. "funny how we grow up, but so much stays the sa-" he blew out a breath when matt elbowed him in the gut.
you smiled to yourself. "i'll see all of you tomorrow, for the game, then?" you said, the inn now steps away.
goodbyes rang out, and you made to remove yourself from trevor's embrace, but he only spun you back into his chest, pulling you close, his arms now wrapped around your back, your nose against his breastbone. you breathed in, melted into him, squeezed him back.
"did you mean it?" he said, soft, so only you would hear him.
you mumbled your confusion into his chest.
"when you said it was working? did you mean it?"
your heart jumped, his words so vulnerable you couldn't look at him. "i meant it," you whispered into his bright shirt. "you're working on me, trevor." you felt his lips brush against your hair, featherlight, before he let you go.
"sweet dreams, sugar," he said, and you walked back to your room with wobbly legs and an overactive heart.
the following day, ginger graciously gave you a ride to the next town over. she, of course, chatted you up the entire time, which you welcomed.
"i know i must be super late to the party here," you said, carefully, picking at your nails, "but what's the story behind bridget and matt?"
ginger tsked. "we're a bad influence on you, honey," she said, taking a right. "you're gonna be a big mouth like me in no time."
you laughed. "it's only 'cause matt's so obvious about it," you told her, "they've known each other forever, and i learned yesterday that she asked him to their freshman dance." you trailed off, hoping that ginger would take your cue.
she nodded, smiled fondly. "our bridget was always such a spitfire," she said, "always going for what she wanted. smart as a whip, too, but you know that."
you nodded. you did.
"and she could have had anyone, but she wanted our matthew, and he wasn't a sight for sore eyes then, like he is now."
is matt good-looking? you'd thought to yourself. you surely hadn't noticed. perhaps you were distracted. perhaps your gaze always wandered.
"but bridget marched right up, asked him to the dance, and the poor boy was so stunned it took him a full minute to say yes." she shook her head, lost in the memory.
"did they ever date, like for real?" you asked, enraptured.
she frowned. "no, i don't think so, at least. bridget was always bouncing around flings, trying out guys for a few weeks, then cuttin' 'em loose." her smile grew wistful. "then she had her darling girl, middle of senior year. dad booked it, never looked back. don't think she's been with anyone since."
you frowned, too, hating the thought of someone abandoning your friend, as lovely and wonderful as she was. what a privilege it would be to be a part of her family.
"and matt?" you asked, as the car pulled into the parking lot. you ran your palms up and down your jeans.
ginger whistled. "that boy's been starry-eyed over her since grade five," she said, "but me and the girls aren't surprised he thinks he doesn't have a shot. his self-esteem's never been the highest, not like the rest of 'em."
"not like cole, who swears he could land a plane, if it came around to it?" you said, grinning.
ginger laughed. "exactly. and not like alex, who was never without a girlfriend, and not like your trevor, who's never needed anyone to tell him how great he is."
you sucked on your teeth. "but we do, anyways," you reminded her.
"that we do, honey," she finished, putting the car in park. "let's go cheer on those knuckleheads, shall we?"
the rink was colder than you thought it would be. the walls were practically made of aluminum foil. you wrapped your arms around yourself, blew out a foggy breath, followed ginger to the away section, absolutely packed with everyone you recognized.
as you settled into the stands, your eyes immediately searched for trevor.
"he's number 11," bridget said, coming to stand next to you.
you rolled your eyes. "and what number is matt?"
she shoved you, playfully, but when spoke, it was bashful. "12," she said. "cole's 22 and alex is 39. police chief is 8, fireman spence is the goalie, and griff is the ref."
you furrowed your brow. "isn't that a conflict of interest?" you asked.
she huffed in a laugh. "if anything, it's a disadvantage for us."
the game started, and you realized very early on that maybe trevor hadn't been lying when he said not all of them are as good. he practically flew around the ice, graceful, mesmerizing. and it was obvious that he wasn't looking to show off, either, that he was just playing to have fun, and if he really wanted to, he could run the scoresheet up into oblivion.
you could feel bridget smile beside you. "yeah," she sighed. "it's pretty crazy."
"he could play professionally," you breathed.
she shrugged. "he's happy," she said simply.
cole scored twice, the other team clawed their way back in. griff threw alex in the box for boarding, which old man peters, even with his granddaughter in his lap, would not let go, keeping a one-man ref, you suck! chant going long after the power play was over.
"does he know it's griff?" you asked bridget.
"of course he does," she said. "he'll buy him a beer after this."
such was small town life, you supposed.
in the end, fireman spence made some crucial saves, keeping it tied late into the third. with about a minute left, trevor made an unreal, practically magical pass to matt, who finished it off in a one-timer that sunk into the back of the net.
the crowd erupted. you and bridget jumped up and down, holding each other as the goal horn sounded.
the team went through the line in celebration, then skating by the away section before the next face off.
trevor blew you a kiss. you shook your head at him, but couldn't wipe the smile off of your face.
the game ended in a win, and the town migrated over to the local bar. you busied yourself with harry's mom, telling her that no, she had nothing to worry about, yes, harry was quiet, but he was kind as anything, and that was most important.
everyone cheered when the team walked in. you clapped along with them, feeling a smile tug at your lips as soon as your eyes locked on trevor.
his eyes found yours immediately, that lazy grin following as he squeezed past people to get to you.
you met him halfway, a hazy neon light over your heads, making color dance in his eyes like starlight. his long hair was damp, curly at the ends in a way that made you want to reach up and tug at them.
"speechless, eh, sug?" he teased, shrugging one shoulder with exaggerated arrogance. "i know, my play tends to evoke that reaction from people. i-"
you scrunched your mouth to the side, smacked him lightly in the chest. "god forbid i try to think of something nice to say to you," you said, smiling. you made to pull you hand back, but his warm, wide palm came up to cover it, holding it against his chest.
you exhaled, looked up at him, unsure.
"what was your favorite part?" he asked, those shining eyes careful. "did you like cole's between-the-legs? or maybe my last assist?" he winked. "always a crowd favorite."
suddenly confidence welled up inside of you, a vault. but we tell him anyways, you had said. that we do.
tell him, the overhead lights whispered.
"when you blew me a kiss," you said, reaching your free hand up to cup his jaw, textured under your touch from his five-o'clock-shadow. "that was my favorite part."
flame crept into his gaze abruptly, suddenly, shockingly. he settled his other hand on your hip, pulled you closer to him, his grip making your breath catch. "was it?" there was a roughness to his voice that felt tangible.
you nodded slowly, speaking to his mouth. you weren't scared. you weren't running. you weren't stalling. your skin was humming, your blood felt hot. he was so perfect against you, his hand over yours somehow the most intimate touch you could remember.
he ducked his head to yours, just a breath away, so you could see the gold in his eyes. "let me do you one better," he rasped, waiting for your single nod before finally crushing his mouth to yours in a kiss that felt like early sunrises, slow and meaningful and only the beginning.
you pushed up onto your tiptoes, looped both of your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, closer, as he kept one hand on your hip, the other grasping the back of your neck, keeping you from collapsing into him.
kissing your ex had felt almost robotic, scientific, stiff in an endearing way at best, stiff in an awkward way in reality.
there was nothing stiff about this, nothing scientific about him. this was all feeling, all malleable, all calloused hands and chapped lips. he kissed like someone who had to work for it, like someone who didn't have to prove anything to you but wanted to, anyways.
just that was enough for you to sigh against him, the fact that there were other people around the only thing stifling your soft moan.
he smiled into your mouth, like a low-spoken secret between the two of you. "taste like butterscotch," he mumbled against your lips, pulling away only just enough to make sure his words didn't disappear unheard down your throat, almost drowsily. "you like those candies i give you, sugar?"
your chest rose and fell against his. the low music in the background roared in your ears, the neon light making him look like some stained glass thing worth kneeling for. "like 'em because you leave 'em for me," you said, your fingertips tracing the top of his spine.
his eyes shimmered. "can i tell you something?"
you nodded.
he hummed, gave a guilty sort of smile. "gave 'em to you because i didn't like the taste of 'em," he started, smirk growing wider. "and i wanted to convince myself to hold off on kissin' you. not to rush you, you know."
you understood, and your swollen lips quirked at the story, but your eyes flashed with something like hurt. "you don't like the way i taste, trevor?" even if it was his own doing, you suddenly wanted to brush your teeth.
"that's the thing." he ran a steady thumb along your hairline. "think my plan backfired, 'cause butterscotch's my new favorite flavor." his thumb reached your chin, tilting it up to his mouth again. "can't get enough of it," he murmured, a man possessed, barely audible as he kissed you again, this time with a softness that cut like a dagger.
you swore your head was still spinning the next day. what was supposed to be just another shift at the diner quickly turned into a flurry of questions, of neighbors looking for a side of gossip with their french toast, of line cooks swearing there was something different about you.
it was hard to answer anyone, to do anything, honestly, when it felt like you were floating, like your head was far, far away, up in the clouds.
harry gave you a fist bump when he saw you. old man peters told you in a stern tone that public bars were no place for fornication, to which an ecstatic bridget patted his shoulder and reminded him that it was only a (sort of) innocent kiss.
she pulled all the details out of you, lit up as you flushed and stumbled over your memories.
the police chief made some joke about that boy being a bad influence when you accidentally brought him whole milk instead of soy milk for his coffee.
ginger and the girls were like some insatiable beast that only let you be when you reminded them that if they kept you much longer, the diner would go hungry.
of course, your heart instinctively fluttered when that tell-tale gust of loud laughter burst through the door, along with the drag of heavy work boots, the shuffling of canvas outerwear, the shoving of gloves into back pockets.
you made your way to the table with their regular pot of coffee, met trevor's dancing gaze almost sheepishly.
"morning, guys," you said, smiling at all of them.
they chimed their chorus of good mornings, pouring their coffee into mugs themselves, as they always insisted on.
"so, what's new?" cole asked, his head resting on his fists. "probably nothing, right?"
alex and matt hid their laughs.
you rolled your eyes, smiled nonetheless. trevor had a hat on, today, making his hair curl out from the bottom of the brim. you tucked a curling lock behind his ear, ran your nails soothingly along the hair at the nape of his neck.
anyone watching would have seen the way his gaze melted like milk chocolate, how his shoulders softened, his posture relaxing completely into your small touch.
he looked up at you, eyes so soaked in affection it spilled down his face like mascara-stained tears. "i missed you," he said.
his friends groaned, as if they'd heard this a million times. suddenly, with a blush, you had a guess as to what his morning had been like. perhaps he had been just as distracted as you.
"i missed you, too," you said, because it was the truth.
"he almost dropped a crate on my foot this morning," matt said, bitterly.
you put a hand over your heart. "how tragic." you looked up, making eye contact with your friend across the diner. "hey, bridge! matt almost hurt his foot this morning. has science found a cure for that, yet?"
she huffed a laugh as she approached, shook her head at matt when she stood in front of the table. she held the back of her hand to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. "are you sure you're okay, sweet boy? this sounds serious," she joked.
matt had paled. trevor pulled you into his lap and you hid your laugh in his collarbone.
"'m fine," matt bit out, to which bridget smiled.
"thank god, that was close," she said. her gaze wandered, landed on something out the window. she squinted. "did somebody dig up some of the flowers outside?" she asked.
"dig?" alex mused, "maybe rip is a better word, eh, trev?"
"right. almost forgot." trevor held you in his lap with one hand, reached the other to the side. suddenly several flowers were being held in front of you, thin, spidery roots still intact. "sugar, will you go to the valentine's day skate with me?"
you smiled, wide and toothy, touched one hand to his face as the other grasped the humble, earthy bouquet. "of course i will, handsome," you said, "what's the valentine's day skate?"
"pta event, tomorrow," bridget said, looking on with interest. "whole town shows up."
"this town shows up for everything," you replied.
she smiled fondly. "heart-shaped balloons and fruit punch and ice skates. what's not to love?"
you turned your neck to look back up at trevor. "'m honored to have been on the receiving end of one of your famous invitations," you teased, "even if it's not for a dance." his delight rumbled into your shoulders, the back of your thighs, firm and warm.
cole yawned, stretched. "duty calls, fellas," he said, making to get up.
you reluctantly pushed up from trevor's lap, quickly pouring his untouched mug into a to-go cup. the team filed out with their typical string of thank yous and goodbyes, matt's extra glance at bridget met with a returning smile.
then it was you and trevor, as the morning break always ended, like clockwork, like a bedtime story that was comforting in its predictability. he tucked a bill in your apron, several candies, the weight of them alone making you smile.
"did i tell you how pretty you look today?" he told you.
"no," you mused, your hands clasped behind your back, shifting on your feet.
he hummed. "so pretty, sugar, never been so nervous to ask someone out," he admitted, that smug smile lazy across his face.
you tilted your head. "don't be nervous," you told him. "you're the easiest yes i've ever had."
at your words he ducked his wide shoulders down to you, flipped his hat backwards on his head so as not to impede you in any way, kissed you with a rough palm on your soft face, your hands still behind your back as you met him up on your toes.
a different kiss, one so lovely, still, soft and beautiful, drenched in daylight.
would your head ever stop spinning, when it came to him? would you ever come down from the clouds, again? even if you did, would there not be cumulus tufts in your hair, wisps of cirrus in your lashes?
he was proving it difficult, especially that next day, the fourteenth of february.
you had the morning to yourself, existing slowly and methodically, reading and running errands, finally starting to get ready for your date in the late afternoon.
before you knew it, there was a knock at your door, just as you had swung your jacket on. you swung it open to find him leaning against the doorframe, the picture of ease, shoulders drooping the way they always did after a working morning.
"ready to go?" you asked, making to close the door behind you before pressing up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. he caught your face in a hand before you could, though, steering your lips towards his mouth instead. you laughed against his lips. "greedy," you taunted, pulling away, letting yourself lean into his warm side.
"got no idea, sugar," he admitted, voice twinged with a day of speaking. you walked together to the high school ice skating rink, only a few minutes away, the brisk february air biting at your nose, your ears. you caught up on the morning, what book you had finished, how annoying ginger's husband was being about the state of his rain gutters.
when you entered the rink, finally, pushing forward the old doors, you couldn't help but smile, and trevor couldn't help but watch you.
everyone was here, of course they were. balloons hung from the top of the glass, streamers decorating every archway and spare inch. a massive table of themed refreshments was just next to the bleachers.
it looked like something out a ninety's film, mixed with the unique small town charm and wintery love you had come to know so personally.
you and trevor quickly got your skates on, all lingering touches and knowing smiles, and headed for the ice.
you were shaky at first, but his hands were so tight on yours, you knew there wasn't a chance he would let you fall. he spun you around the rink easily, twirling you like a ballroom dance floor, ever the show-off, anything to make you laugh.
"hey, harry!" you called out, at one point, noticing your host-friend helping a taller, skinner kid his age onto the ice. he waved, his eyes glittery in a way you recognized. is that jason? you mouthed. harry nodded, smiled shyly. you gave him an impressed thumbs up, trevor whistled.
you asked trevor how he got into hockey, watched how his mind waltzed behind his eyes when he talked about outdoor rinks with his friends in elementary school, how even piled-on scarves and hats and puffer jackets didn't stop that flying feeling.
significance would gather in your stomach, butterflies morphing into something much more serious, the kind of flame you'd find in a living room fireplace, in the hearts of teenage lovers.
you skated by cole, scooping up the snow he had made with quick starts and stops, and alex, whose neck was becoming the new home of said snow.
alex grunted, immediately breaking into stride to catch a fleeing cole, whose bright and clear laugh echoed under the roof like church bells.
the fire and police departments had started a relay race, ginger and her girls had formed a circle close to the hot chocolate.
old man peters held his sleeping granddaughter in his lap, bouncing his knee gently, both of their smiles blissful.
trevor's hand found your far hip, pulling you into his warm side. you sighed, looked up at him as you let your fingers trace along his jaw.
"touchy today, sugar, hm?" he said into your hair, a rumble to his tone that told you he liked it.
you hummed, nodded. "you just look so..." you trailed off, in thought, thinking about what, exactly, you meant to say. he looked what? practically edible? like an ocean you wanted to drown in?
how could you tell him you'd been avoiding looking at his hands, for fear you'd blurt something out about wanting them around your neck?
you just swallowed, cleared your throat. his smirk was a flash of teeth.
"you feelin' okay?" he cooed. "should i take you home?"
you found yourself nodding, even though you hadn't been at the rink for long.
"yeah?" he mocked, taunting, his hand on your hip suddenly firm, burning.
bridget's laugh cut through the sizzling air like a stream of cold hose water. you both turned to look at where she now sat, having obviously fallen onto the ice. she peered up at matt through her blonde bangs. "some teacher you are," she laughed, "i knew trev was the right choice for my girl's lessons."
matt shook his head, a barely-there smile on his thin lips. he offered her a hand, steadily helped her to her feet, an almost undetectable shake in his breathing as bridget grabbed onto his forearm for extra stability. "alright, smart ass," he mused, "no help for you, then."
he made to drop her hands, to leave her on her own, but she latched onto him tighter. "yeah right," she said, "you're not going anywhere, sweet boy."
cole's laugh sparkled at matt's flush.
you and trevor were already on the way out, bidding your short goodbyes, half-assed excuses about not feeling well given and taken with knowing eye-rolls.
he walked you back to the inn, up the stairs, his hands on you ever-so-distracting, his voice a careless rasp, your heart beating heavy in your chest.
you finally made it to your closed door, your back against it as he looked down at you with that heated gaze, his frame boxing you in.
"well, get some rest, sugar," he said, slowly, smiling. "since you're not feeling well." he twirled a strand of your hair around a finger.
you sputtered. "what? trevor-"
his eyes widened in mock-surprise. "oh, is there something you want?" he asked.
you clutched at his shirt with your fist, pulled. "please."
"please, what, sugar?" he asked, so smug you wanted to punch him. "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"
"you," you whined, but that wasn't enough.
"oh, is that it?" he drawled, ducking his head down to you, so close, but not close enough, not even a little.
you worked your jaw, so frustrated. "just," you tried, "just please, touch me, trevor, i just wanna feel you."
he smiled, held the side of your face in his palm. "am touchin' you, sugar," he said, "tellin' me this isn't enough?"
you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, groaned at his feigned confusion. "shut up," you breathed, his mouth an inch from yours.
"make me," he bit back, and then you were kissing him. you swore your lips would be charred, later, as if in proof. you reached a hand behind you, twisted open your door, while the other rooted in his hair, tugged him inside your room as he moaned against your lips.
one of his hands grasped the back of your neck, the other a bruising grip in your side, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees felt the blunt edge of the bed.
you barely registered as he reached under you, flipped you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he sat down on the comforter, far too caught up in this kiss, somehow still so different from ones you has shared before. so charged you felt the air might combust at any second, that, despite his relentless repairs, there was no way this inn could withstand the way he was kissing you, now. surely, the roof would cave in under the weight of your want, water would sear straight through the pressurized pipes.
he smiled against your mouth when you started to rock your hips back and forth across his lap, just so desperate for something, anything.
your exhales came out short, little pants as you reveled in the little friction you were getting against his firm thigh, covered in his heavy work pants, nothing close to what you really wanted, but something, at least.
mercifully, he moved your clothes aside, rocked you more forcefully, making the sensation practically blissful. you dropped your heavy head to his neck, moaned into it.
"oh, sugar," he cooed, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "so greedy for it, hm?"
you nodded into his neck, the tough texture combined with the heavy weight of his thigh catching you in just the right spot, urging a whimper from your throat.
"makin' a mess of me, yeah? could cum just from my thigh?" he said, almost like he felt sorry for you, but you could hear the smile in his voice. you bit down gently on the space between his neck and shoulder, your small retaliation, smiled at his groan.
you slowed your rhythm, picked your head up, let your chest rise and fall as you looked at him in the face, searched his eyes.
his face was slightly flushed, his eyes only just a bit glassy, but he looked at you like you were a wonder, like some divine power had made her way into his lap.
you pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, loved the way you could feel his smile crinkle and widen under your lips.
"please, trevor," you whispered, your touch so soft around his neck. "please just give me what i want."
you shifted on his lap until you felt him, hard and hot and heavy underneath you. his voice came out with a strain. "anything, sugar," he told you, "just tell me."
you lifted your hips up, could feel how wet you were, could tell you had probably left a trace of yourself on his pants. "wanna cum on your cock, trevor," you breathed, couldn't help your sly grin when he immediately began to tug his clothes aside. "please, please let me. i know i'm so greedy-"
he was nodding like he understood as he angled your hips up higher, shifted you so that you sat right above him as he pumped himself up and down, once, twice, so obviously ready for you. "you are, sugar," he said, so eager it almost sounded like a whine, "but i'll give you anything you want, swear it." his hands found your hips. "just promise you'll only be greedy for me, hm?"
you sank down onto him with a nodded promise, bit your lip at the slow, scorching pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulled at your middle, that you felt in your toes. you blinked, trying to get used to the sensation, trying to muffle the groan in your mouth.
"fuck," he moaned, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like you might float away if he let go, "all the way, sugar, 'atta girl." you huffed a short breath when he was all the way in.
words felt far away, suspended in bubbles that whirled around your head.
"speechless, eh?" he teased, and you had a sense of deja vu. "don't worry, sugar. common re-"
and you could have growled at him for alluding to the fact that other girls had felt this, that there were other people in the world who knew what this felt like, so you fitted a delicate hand over his mouth and rolled your hips up and back on him until he was the speechless one, moans falling from his mouth, his brow pinched in pleasure.
"don't worry," you breathed, your mouth an inch from his ear. "common reaction."
you began to move your hips up and down faster as the stretch gave way to something dizzyingly good, as he began to thrust back up into you. so hard and fast, but he held you like something precious. his rhythm built until your mouth fell open, until sweat shone on the high points of his face, until time melted away, until you were reminded of what you'd mistaken him for when you'd first seen him, all that time ago - some ancient sculpture. a work of art.
he cursed as your clit caught on his pubic bone, the friction so overwhelming, and you clenched down on him. "give it to me, sugar," he said, but the strain in his voice made it sound like a plea. "fuck, let me hear you, yeah?" his tone grew gentle. "been wantin' to hear you for so long."
you tightened around him further at his small admission, let your nails rake down his neck, probably a little too hard. he grunted, thrusted harder, shifted you closer to him.
you moaned his name at the new angle, one you felt in the tips of your ears, your hairline, your tongue.
you were so close, so impossibly almost there. "please make me cum," you whined, "please, need you so bad." your exhale was practically pained as you ran your fingers over the red marks on his neck your nails had left. "don't i deserve it, baby?"
he grunted, and it was different. you felt his stomach and thighs clench, his hips sputter as his head spun with the fact that you'd gone right to begging him, skipped the asking part. he pressed his hand to your lower stomach, let his thumb catch against your clit, sending you over the edge in moments. "'course you deserve it, sugar," he rasped, gravelly, in your ear as you rode out your high, his thrusts growing wild. "been so good."
you clenched down on him, forcing his own orgasm, fast and all-consuming, the smell of him everywhere, mixed with your perfume. your exhales were warm and heavy, transparent clouds that settled on the floor of your room, making it every bit the dreamland it had become in your mind.
he held you so close to him as he pulled you to his chest, leaned you both back on your bed. you stared up at the ceiling.
about time, one of the tiles whispered, holding a crisp fiver.
couldn't have waited another week? the losing tile muttered bitterly.
you smiled as his rough hand found your face, tilted it towards him. he was smiling. your stomach fluttered as you felt your own mouth pull wider.
"what?" he asked, his voice rough, drowsy with use.
you shook your head. "nothing," you said, "just you." your eyes crinkled under the weight of your happiness. "i'm callin' dibs on you."
his eyes lit up as he pulled you in for another kiss, slow and overflowing with meaning. he hummed. "butterscotch," he whispered against your mouth. "my favorite."
fin.
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joeys-babe · 2 months
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Joey B Imagines: A Day In The Life
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Summary: You do a mini TikTok vlog of a day in the life with your boys while pregnant. (Pregnancy announcement to the public!)
Warnings: Fluff
Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader
Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic
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January 10, 2024 - *35 weeks pregnant*
After posting some more pranks I've done on Joe, surprisingly, my following on TikTok has grown significantly.
Usually, posting Joe on my socials garnered negative attention, AKA hate. I did it because social media apps were meant to share your life, and Joe was a huge part of my life.
I never meant it in a braggadocios way, but that's what people seemed to take from my family photos and post-win pics with my husband.
That's why I was so surprised to see that everyone loved my Joe pranks.
The comments held a consensus that I’d never seen under a post of mine, they loved Joe and I’s dynamic.
I didn't need the public fan validation to make me feel secure in my relationship with Joe, but for once, they understood how special our relationship was, and some even apologized for past statements.
“They love us, Joe.” - you
“No, honey, they love you.” - Joe smiled
After those words were shared, Joe pointed out how all the comments were mostly praising me.
“take back everything I said abt her.”
“stop she matches joe’s energy so well…”
“the way he can’t stay mad at her, they’re so in love”
“actually such a cute couple”
“they compliment each other so well!”
“i see why joe married her! 🥹”
“i want y/n to be MY mom.”
“who gave y/n the right to be so adorable.”
“she’s so fun!”
“the way joe looks at her.. 😭”
“still jealous, but he loves her sm.”
“MY PARENTS.”
“i bet y/n’s the best mom and wife”
“Everyone’s switching sides now, but they never deserved hate. Joe wouldn't marry her if he didn't love her, and I'm glad that you guys can see that now. She makes him really happy!!”
“See? Some are even requesting more videos, baby. Do you see how many new followers you've gotten?” - Joe
“It's just because I posted content of you…” - you
“No, don't say that. It's because you showed your personality, and they love you. They see why I love you.” - Joe
“Do you really think so?” - you
“I know so. Everyone thinks your pranks are hilarious, you're funny, and you handle me super well.” - Joe
“I do handle you super well.” - you laughed
“The best.” - Joe winked
——
That was two days ago, right after we put the twins to sleep and right before we went to bed ourselves.
Currently being nine in the morning, I just woke up.
It was off-season now, but that still meant early mornings.
This morning was a little different, though, because I was making a ‘day in the life’ TikTok.
Since my pranks had become a hit, I've gotten quite a few video ideas from fans in the comments. Most wanted to see more of our everyday lives and wanted to know what it was like as an NFL wife and mother.
So, I decided to do a short video to show what our family day routine was like on an average off-season day.
The thing is… Joe didn't know it was happening.
Joe loved that I was finally being seen the way he saw me but was still weary of what I was posting.
He wasn't a huge fan of social media, and being super public with our relationship and kids, he detested it.
I respected it, but sometimes Joe would ask to participate in a video unprompted.
Lately, that has become a bigger case, so I was hoping he wouldn't mind taking part in the mini-vlog.
Joe was still asleep when I got out of bed, so I discreetly walked into the bathroom after grabbing my phone.
I wouldn't be talking in the video, just showcasing the sounds of the background and whatever I was doing, while the text that I would put over it later would describe what was going on.
After making little clips of me brushing my teeth, washing my face, and brushing my hair out, I walked back into the bedroom.
Next, I recorded a little snippet of me picking out my outfit - leggings and one of Joe’s hoodies - before turning my phone off to get changed.
Now that I was ready, I headed downstairs to start breakfast.
I pulled ingredients out of the fridge for Joe’s smoothie, omelets for me and me, and some of the ingredients for the boy's pancakes.
Just as I was starting the blender, a sleepy-looking Joe with raging bedhead shuffled into the kitchen.
“G’morning.” - you grinned
Thankfully, he put on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and I was glad of that because he'd complain about being shirtless on camera.
“Hi.” - Joe mumbled
“You good, buddy?” - you laughed
“Mhm. I just don't like waking up to see that you're not next to me.” - Joe
“Awe, I'm sorry. C’mere.” - you
I opened my arms to Joe, and he immediately was in my embrace. My arms were around his waist as I squeezed him, and his head lay on my shoulder.
When he pulled away from me, Joe’s eyes landed on the recording camera and immediately went wide-eyed.
“Why are you recording?” - Joe
“I'm making a ‘day in the life' video. I won't put anything in it that you aren't comfortable with, like what just happened.” - you
“Oh… ok. Yeah, don't put that in, though, because I sound like a baby.” - Joe
His grimace made me laugh because I thought our interaction was cute. Then again, I loved Joe’s needy, soft side. It was purely adorable.
“My baby.” - you grinned
“Stop…” - Joe
Joe was trying to hide his smile as his cheeks turned pink, and I couldn't help but giggle. I loved knowing I could make him blush, even after all the years we've been together.
“Do you need help recording anything?” - Joe
“Not at the moment, but if I do, I'll ask you.” - you
“Okay. Want me to make the pancakes?” - Joe
“Sure! Can I get a clip of you flipping them?” - you
“Of course.” - Joe smiled
Shortly after that, Joe got started on the pancakes, and I recorded a little video to get audio of the sizzling from the hot pan.
When I got a short clip of Joe flipping a mini pancake, I didn't put his face in it, but you could very clearly see it was him. His easily recognized bracelets and hands gave that away, along with the laugh the speaker picked up when he executed the flip perfectly.
“I should be a pro cook.” - Joe
“We both know that shouldn't happen.” - you
Joe busted out laughing and told me to put that in the mini-vlog.
“Will do.” - you giggled
——
Later in the day, I had gotten most of the wanted content filmed, including waking the boys up, breakfast, and playing/cleaning around the house.
Now, Joe, Me, and the boys were on our way to the reason for the entire video.
AKA the ultrasound that I'm having today.
It was a hard launch of my pregnancy, but Joe and I thought we'd include it in the video since my maternity photoshoot wasn't for a couple more weeks. The reason we were announcing it before the shoot was because it was getting hard to hide my growing bump. We’d much rather announce it ourselves than someone screenshot a picture of me in the background with a round belly.
When we got sent back to the ultrasound room, Joe sat in the chair next to where I was. Tyson was in Joe’s lap while Miles sat in the chair next to them.
“You ready to see sissy?” - Joe
Tyson and Miles both nodded, causing Joe and I to both smile.
Soon the ultrasound tech walked into the room and before I knew it, the familiar feeling of cold gel on my stomach made me hiss.
“Okay, Mama?” - Joe
“Gel’s just cold. I'm fine.” - you smiled
Joe made sure to get a good video of you watching the monitor, and he felt tears pricking in his eyes at the sight of his baby girl.
He would never get tired of being called, girl dad, Joe wore it like a proud Boy Scout who had just received a new badge.
“Baby Girl is doing great, measuring how she should be, and is very healthy.” - Tech
“Good.” - you and Joe in sync
After a few more minutes, she wiped off my bump, and I was set to go.
Joe helped me off of the chair and pulled the hoodie back over my stomach.
“I love you.” - Joe grinned
“I love you too.” - you
——
I spent the first thirty minutes back home editing together the clips I already had, getting approval from Joe for each one.
It surprised me how much feedback and “Oh, this would be cool!” Joe was giving me. He liked this more than I thought he would.
We ate dinner just shortly after that, and the rest of the afternoon was slow, as it usually was.
Tyson and Miles went to bed earlier than usual, so Joe and I spent the majority of the evening watching space documentaries that Joe had been wanting to watch.
The last video of the day routine vlog was of the TV in front of us, Joe’s hand on my bump in view, as well as our legs tangled together.
I never truly appreciated the little things in my everyday life till they were pointed out in a video, like how Tyson always looks at Joe for approval before doing something or how Miles's eyes crinkle up when he smiles, just like his daddy’s.
Watching back at the completed TikTok while tucked into my handsome husband’s side as he rubbed over my baby bump and drew little shapes on it with his thumb had me thinking something I seem to always find my mind drifting off to. Oh, boy, was I one lucky girl.
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Authors note: cutie family fluff for Sunday
Request for this fic; thank you anon! 🫶
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Hope you enjoyed! 💕
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mamsieur · 5 months
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Ink and Smoke I Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader
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Summary : Reuben's wife wants to play matchmakers with Bob. It usually fails until the whole squad has a tattoo appointment.
TW : none, full fluff, hyper self indulgent
Length : 3664 words
AN : maybe it's kind of a self insert fic because of the whole "reader is a tattooed girly" and maybe the bee tattoo is the one I have. Maybe.
posted on AO3 November 8, 2023
A few months had passed since the uranium mission and the squadron was settled to San Diego for good, and Bob had never been happier. He finally had everything and everyone he needed in one place. The squad was a new family for him, he grew close to each of them, even Jake.
Work was easier now that he was permanently stationed here, and he was glad that the squadron was a permanent unit as well ; they were always working together and getting missions as a special task force. He was able to teach new graduates with Phoenix, and he enjoyed being an instructor. 
Life was good. His little found family fell into an easy routine of Sunday brunches at each other's houses, days off at the beach playing dogfight football, evenings at the Hard Deck. Each of them got to meet the family of the others ; mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, partners… Reuben was the first to introduce his wife, Josie, to the squadron and everyone loved her. They were expecting their first child and Mickey had appointed himself as godfather (not that Reuben had anything against it, but he had to talk it over with his wife). Josie had some sort of maternal aura that made them so comfortable, much like Penny ; even Bradley opened up to her about his past, and Jake always seemed to calm down when the pregnant woman gave him the "mommy" look.
As for his own love life, Bob’s friends had tried so many times to set him up on dates, and each time it had failed. The girls he was set up with had nothing to do with it for the most part ; Bob was sure they were great people, but they were always too much for him. He was a discreet and somewhat shy type of guy, he wasn't really comfortable with their extroverted behavior. And it wasn't like he was actively looking for a relationship; he liked being single most of the time. He had his ways, his habits, his comfort zone, and he wasn't in any hurry to leave it. His life was perfect as he saw it. But he couldn't deny that sometimes he felt lonely. He felt that way when he couldn't go home to his family, when he was on leave from work, or when he was asked to write his marital status on some paperwork. He felt that way when he listened to Natasha talk about her dates with her pretty hairdresser and how everything was going smoothly. He felt that way when he saw the girls at the bar only looking at Bradley, Javy, Jake or Mickey; he was right there but invisible. He felt that way when he was the last of his siblings and cousins to be single; his younger brother even got married this year. He felt that way when his father seemed to have to remind him that his last relationship was from before he left for naval school, and when his mother whined about her baby being all alone in San Diego.
Other than that, Bob didn't feel lonely. Not too much.
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When he arrived at the Hard Deck after another failed date, Josie sighed with a confused pout.
"Why didn't it work out this time, Bobby?"
He shrugged as he sat between her and Natasha on the stool across from the pool table where Jake and Bradley were playing. "She's just passing through San Diego and she... I don't know, she talked a lot about herself, I didn't have time to get a word in. And when I did, she didn't seem too interested in what I had to say."
"Yickes," Natasha grimaced, "you did well to leave that date early."
"Oh, well, in fact, I didn't... She actually was the one who cut it short, she had to meet a friend apparently. Not that I'm complaining," he smiled slightly at the girls, and Reuben’s wife rolled her eyes before finishing her ginger ale, rubbing her round belly.
"I give up, Bob. You'll find someone eventually, but I'm done trying to set you up. I hate seeing you like this."
"Like what?" he frowned a little, not understanding.
"Like a puppy that's been thrown out," Reuben said as he kissed his wife's temple, joining their conversation. She rolled her eyes, half amused. "That's the idea. You always look so disappointed and sad after these dates. And I know it makes you question your self-worth, and I don't want that. So we won't set you up anymore, consider this my early birthday present to you," she smiled. 
"Finally - Ouch!" he chuckled, stroking his side where Josie had elbowed him. She sighed with a smile and they moved on to more casual conversation. It was another casual night, and Bob was loving it. The brunette was right, he'll find someone eventually, why force fate?
As the night went on, one particular topic was brought back to the table; their matching tattoo project. The seven of them still hadn't decided what to get, but Reuben had already made an appointment with a tattoo artist that he and Josie had been to a few times; she had four tattoos, and three of them were by that artist. It was fine line, discreet; that style was perfect for the squad. 
"So, except for Reuben, this will be everyone's first tattoo?" Mickey asked, reading everyone's ideas again on Javy's phone. They all nodded and Natasha scoffed.
"Robert Floyd, stop lying to us! You have a tattoo!"
Bob blushed under the curious gaze of his friends, and if his eyes could throw knives, Phoenix would be dead.
"Come to think of it, we've never seen him without a shirt on," Mickey remarked, narrowing his eyes. The other boys agreed and Jake grinned.
"What kind of embarrassing ink you got Baby on board?"
"If it's the name of an ex-girlfriend, I swear we'll ask for the whole story!" Javy insisted. Everyone tried to guess, making Bob more and more embarrassed and Natasha smirked, proud of her. She saw his tattoo once, after a water fight. 
"Come on Robby, show them, it's not that bad..." she encouraged him, gently squeezing his forearm. The blond man pouted and sighed, pulling out his phone to find photos. He showed the screen to his friends when he found the picture he was looking for. The tattoo was on his ribs and it was a quote with a carnation flower underneath. Mickey couldn't help but gasp in surprise as he read the quote, his eyes shining with admiration, "Is that a Star Wars reference?"
"It is..." Bob muttered, "And my older cousin has the other half of the quote."
He swiped and showed them a picture of their tattoos side by side; his cousin’s said "Do or do not." with the flower above it, and Bob’s one said "There is no try."
"Nerd," Jake snorted, earning a nudge from Reuben.
"In our defense, we were barely eighteen when we made them, just before I went to naval school," he shrugged.
"I think it's cute," Josie smiled and Bradley hummed in agreement, siping his beer. 
"How come you never told me you were Star Wars fans?" Mickey accused, "What do you think of the series? Without the last three movies, of course. They don't exist," and he chatted with Bob for a good half hour. 
Bradley cleared his throat to stop the rumbling, "Can we get back to the tattoo topic? We have less than fifteen hours to decide".
After some discussion and a few scribbles of their ideas on some napkins, they settled on three designs that the tattoo artist would be able to work with.
Bob carefully saved the napkins, and one by one the group went home. He decided to take a walk on the beach before he left. 
He liked the silence, broken only by the gentle sounds of the waves and the wind. His week had been exhausting and quite stressful, and being here soothed him. The moonlight guided his steps home. As he made his way to his little house, he lit a cigarette. He was not much of a smoker, but every now and then it helped calm his nerves. Truth to be told, he was a little nervous to get tattooed. He wasn’t a big fan of needles. He just hoped that the final design would be simple enough so he didn’t have to stay too long under the hands and tools of the tattoo artist.
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The next day, after a nice lunch together, the group finally went to the tattoo parlor. Josie was with them, even more excited than they were. They walked in, making the little bell above the door ring. Soft rock was playing at a low volume, and some of the artist's work was hanging on the walls. 
Bob looked around curiously. This parlor was nothing like the one he'd been in with his cousin almost twelve years before. Here, the large windows let in daylight, and the reception and waiting areas were beautifully decorated with green plants (though Bob suspected they were fake). On the coffee table across from the couches was a binder containing the flashes that were still available. And on the walls were photos of several finished tattoos and some awards the artist seemed to have won at conventions around the country. The whole atmosphere was comfortable and reassuring. 
"I'll be there in two seconds!"  your voice came from the back of the room. 
The curtain at the back of the shop opened and you stepped out, dusting your hands. Your arms were covered with tattoos of all kinds; some colored, some not. Bob watched you for a moment, impressed by the number of tattoos you had. His eye fell on the one under and on your collarbones; two daffodils with a bee in the middle. He found it gorgeous.
He was jolted out of his contemplation when Josie threw herself in your arms.
"Bee! It's so good to see you!"
"Hello to you too, Jo’ !" you chuckled, returning her hug, "I assume this is the famous Dagger Squad you've been talking about."
You gave them your real name with a smile and shook hands with everyone, "You can call me Bee though, it doesn't bother me!". Your eyes locked with Bob's for a few seconds and he thought he saw you blushing a little. But maybe he had hallucinated.
You offered them some tea or coffee while grabbing your sketchbook and pen. "Okay, so what were your ideas? Jo’ and Reuben here told me you had quite a few," you asked with a smile, and the group began to explain what they had in mind. Bob, sitting in front of you, wasn't listening. He was mesmerized ; you had such a sweet voice and a warm, inviting aura. Your eyes shone with interest behind your glasses as you took notes on what Bob's friends were saying. Your soft smile sent butterflies to his stomach, and he felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears blush whenever he made eye contact with you. 
He was drawn out of his contemplation by Bradley, who nudged him discreetly. You had asked him something, but he didn't seem to have heard.
"Sorry, what?"
"Your friends said you had some papers with your ideas. May I see them?" you chuckled with a sweet smile.
"Oh... Oh! The napkins, yes!" he mumbled and took them out of his pocket. He displayed them on the coffee table in front of you. He blushed as your fingers brushed over his, and Josie and Natasha noticed. They looked at each other and wiggled their eyebrows. An idea had blossomed in their minds…
***
A few sketches later, you had a design that everyone in the group loved. It was simple enough that you could make the seven of them that afternoon. While you were getting everything ready, the Daggers argued about who would go after Reuben, who volunteered to go first. But Bob seemed a little lost and couldn't say anything. Josie sighed and intervened, hands on hips, like a mother scolding her children.
"Okay, everybody, calm down. Jake will go second, Mickey third and then Javy."
"But why?" Jake gasped and Mickey pouted.
"Because you three are too afraid, I can feel it. Look at it this way: the sooner you get it done, the sooner it's over."
"Good thinking..." Javy muttered.
"Thank you. Then Natasha, Bradley, and finally Bob. As soon as you're done, go to the little store next door and get yourself a snack, okay?"
The five nodded like children, but Natasha had a little mischievous smile on her lips that matched Josie's. But the boys, except for Reuben, didn't seem to notice. The latter gave his wife a knowing look and shook his head with a smile when she just shrugged.
Bob wasn't sure what to do. He looked at you a few times as you finished cleaning Reuben’s finished tattoo. You laughed with him and Bob blushed. He'd never seen anyone laugh so beautifully. His heart raced a little, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You were mesmerizing, a work of art. 
"... Bob?"
"Huh?" he hummed, still lost in contemplation.
"Bobby, stop staring, you're not discreet," Josie giggled and Bob blushed wildly. He looked around and to his relief the others didn't seem to be paying too much attention to him. "You know, Bee is single... you should ask her out. You're totally her type."
"Am I?" he mumbled, blushing as Nat and Josie giggled, "I-I mean, I, uh… she’s-" Bob stuttered. He was busted. Natasha wrapped her arm around his and looked at you.
"From what Josie and Reuben have told me, Bee is really sweet," she said.
"She loves sci-fi, has two cats, builds Legos, and she absolutely loves quiet walks on the beach, just like you," Josie informed him with a smile, and Bob's cheeks turned even redder. He watched as you reassured Jake and explained how the machine worked. Your smile definitely made Bob's heart flutter. He wanted it to be directed at him. Not at Jake who was certainly flirting with you… although you didn’t seem that affected by it.
"She's a great girl, Bobby, and yes, I said I'd stop to set you up, but this isn't technically a date. It's up to you if you want to ask her out," Josie argued and he nodded, playing nervously with his fingers.
"I... I'll try?" he murmured, clearly worried about the situation, "but what if you're wrong and I'm not her type? Or what if I make it all awkward? or what if-"
"Calm down Floyd, it'll be fine! She won't reject you like that. Look at her, she's too nice for that. You have the whole afternoon to relax and just be yourself with her. We'll keep the others out," Natasha smiled as she gave him a friendly nudge. He sighed and nodded, trying to keep his composure. But then he frowned and turned to the two women beside him. "That's why you wanted me to go last?"
They just chuckled and shrugged. Bob sighed again and shook his head, "You two are a menace," he groaned.
As the afternoon wore on, Bob had to go out twice to catch his breath. He tried not to smoke right now, but the urge got stronger as his turn to get tattooed approached. He watched you laugh with Bradley as you tattooed him on the inside of his bicep. Then Bradley pointed at Bob and said something to you. You smiled a little and waved to him. He blushed so hard he thought his whole face was on fire. He shyly waved back and thought he saw you blush again. But you quickly turned your attention back to Bradley.
Bob's heart was pounding, he was filling up like a 10-year-old facing his first crush. 
And finally it was his turn. Josie and Natasha managed to get everyone out by pretending to go shopping for dinner - which wasn't exactly a lie. Bob was worriedly silent as you cleaned your station. You turned to him and smiled. 
"Would you like something to drink while I finish preparing the area? I have some ginger ale, Reuben told me you usually like it?"
Bob just nodded, speechless. How can you be so thoughtful? 
He thanked you as you handed him the glass and watched you print the last stencil.
"Nervous?" you asked, tilting your head to meet his gaze, "Where do you want it?"
"Y-Yeah, a little bit," he swallowed and scratched his neck nervously, "I, uh... maybe here?" he gestured to his ribs, the side that had no tattoos.
"Josie told me you already had a tattoo, right? Do you want them mirrored, like symmetrical?" you asked as he took off his shirt. You blushed. This man was really, really beautiful. His friends were too, you'd seen Jake and Mickey shirtless, but Bob... Bob had this charming boyish face and a body that you could see yourself curling up against in your bed for a cuddle in rainy weather. He had that old American charm with his wire-rimmed glasses, that little curl of hair that fell perfectly on his forehead, and that shy smile. You wanted him to take you out on a date anywhere he wanted and listen to his surprisingly raspy voice talk about absolutely anything... but you had to be professional.
"Yes," he replied, "I think it could be quite harmonious..."
"I think so too," you smiled at him and prepared his skin before placing the stencil. You let him check to see if he liked the placement. He turned to you and his crooked smile made you feel all warm inside. He was absolutely adorable.
"I love it," he said, excited like a little boy on Christmas Eve, "it looks amazing!"
"Well, let's get to work then, Lieutenant!" you chuckled and let him lie down. You put on your gloves and turned on the machine. You saw him take a deep breath and exhale slowly; surely to calm his nerves. "Ready?" you asked quietly and he nodded.
He didn't flinch or move once during the session. You saw him grimace from time to time, but he was perfectly still. You tried to talk to him to ease the process without pushing him too hard, and to your own surprise, he was quite talkative. The two of you debated which was the best Lego set you owned - it was obviously the Millenium Falcon. He really made you laugh when he explained how Bradley accidentally broke his glasses and how Josie scolded them for being reckless while playing soccer on the beach. And you both agreed that Reuben and Josie would make great parents. He walked you outside when you said you needed a smoke break.
"I don't smoke that much, I'm trying to quit," you shrugged, "but some days are harder than others."
"Yeah, I get it, I'm not a heavy smoker either, but it helps... relax, I guess," he said, lighting your cigarette and then his. You smiled and agreed. In the distance, the sun was slowly setting, casting orange and pink hues in the sky. Bob blew his smoke slowly through his nose and sighed.
"I love sunsets," he said, "it's always a different color show..."
"I'm sure it's nicer when you're actually in the sky, isn't it?"
"Oh yes it is!" he replied excitedly, "Sometimes with the clouds it's like being surrounded by cotton candy. It's so pretty, but it makes me hungry." 
You laughed and his smile grew wider.
"So you have a sweet tooth?"
"The worst," he sighed with a soft grin, "I think I might be addicted to sugar. I mean, we all are a little, but sweet things are my weakness."
The way he looked at you when he said that made you blush furiously. And he blushed too, surprised at his own behavior. But you didn't seem bothered, so he wasn't embarrassed. You bit your lip and sighed with a smile before looking back at him.
"So if I asked you to come with me to the fair and eat our body weight in candy and cake on Sunday, would you agree?"
"Yes," he blushed, surprised at his own eagerness to accept your proposition. He chuckled and nodded, "I would gladly agree."
"It's a date then..." you smiled and exchanged numbers. Then you resumed your conversation about whatever was on your minds. Bob had never felt so comfortable with anyone, and neither had you. Unfortunately, the rest of the Daggers made their way back to your shop to pay you for the tattoos and take some pictures of them. They were all happy with the results and Mickey promised to come back for more. Bob couldn't stop smiling and looking at you as if you were holding the stars, and neither could you. You said goodbye to everyone, hugged Reuben and Josie - asking their growing baby in her belly to behave - and kissed Bob on the cheek when he last existed. You had to stand on tiptoe to do it, which he found adorable.
"See you Sunday, Bob," you almost whispered.
"Gladly Bee, can't wait," he smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
You waved him goodbye and he felt all light and happy on his way to his car.
The rest of the group was completely forgotten, but they were watching from a distance. They were surprised and so lost by what they had just witnessed, except for Nat and Josie who were really proud of their part in it. They discreetly high-fived and giggled.
"What did you do?" Reuben finally asked his wife, curious.
"Me? Nothing," she smiled at him before looking at Bob, who didn't stop smiling. She took her husband's hand on the way to their car and chuckled, "I just encouraged fate."
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undercoverpena · 3 months
Text
stockings and stars
javier peña x f!reader
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summary: Still need the star putting on the top of the tree. ive got other plans for you Because I’m the star? yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back
from the late night texts world - but can still be enjoyed on its own. chapter warnings: allusion to/mentions of smut. no actual smut. javi undresses you, though. flirting. fluff. reader wears red lingerie and a dressing gown. javi flirting. sexy talk, romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 3k
an: to @goodwithcheese merry christmas from me, to you. thank you for everything, for the tuesday fun we have - i wanted nothing more than to have this out sooner, but life, you know? but, i adore you. and I'm so glad we found one another. ahuge thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who cheerleaded for me throughout.
text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi
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Will I be seeing Santa Javi today? I want to decorate my tree.
one time I come to yours in a red shirt
You also had the tree under your arm and a bag of baubles, I’d class those as gifts.
keep talking baby and you can decorate your tree alone
Think I’m gonna wear that shirt you left here while I do it. Make sure I have to get up on my tip toes. Hope it doesn't rise up...
you don’t play fair
I think I’ll be in stockings too…
youre killing me
Maybe they’re white and red, and…
baby if i wasn’t putting this thing up for Pop, i’d be driving over right now
Hope you hurry up, I need someone tall to put the star on top of the tree.
how am I gonna eat you out when youre perched on the tree baby
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The last thing on his to-do list from his Pop is to hang the front porch garland.
He had learnt there had been a huge difference in the front and the back porch garlands. A fifteen-minute-long difference when he'd timed the response given to his sarcastic answer.
Javi learnt there was not only one for the back porch and the front, but one which sat across the fireplace and one on the staircase.
He learnt that after he'd made a joke about mixing them up—earning himself a very pointed glare, and the task of the front porch.
Now, it’s a battle he’s losing.
Tremendously so.
While he’d never want his Pop to do the more challenging tasks, he did rather hate he hadn’t thought to trade this one in for the back porch at the very least—because that had looked fucking easy.
Holding the garland in hand, he’s suddenly hit with a second wave of nostalgia, the first having arrived when he'd pulled down the box and peered into it.
It did the same thing as it had done then, all but rushed over him, layering itself on his shoulders, sitting, nothing short of a comfortable weight on him. Letting his gaze fall out over it, he smiles at the tuffs of fabric, all the bows tied by hand, all in an array of sizes and shades.
Over time, he can see how they've become sun-dyed, remembering the first year they'd been sewn into the faux greenery by his mamá, memories of her all hunched over, humming carols.
Smiling, he rolls his lips, letting out a heavier sigh than he intended as he drags it to the post he’d begin at.
But, all he wonders is whether in the years he wasn’t here, whether it was occasionally hung—or if this year is just that special.
The mere hint that he was going to ask if you wished to spend Christmas at the ranch had sent his Pop into overdrive. Practically yanked him out of his chair like he’d been electrified, a bunch of orders being flung from under his white, wiry moustache that they needed to get ready.
He wasn't sure he'd get the image of his Pop suddenly scrambling around like a man half his age, to drag the decorations out from the cupboard, would ever be erased from his mind. Least of all the sound you'd made aww'ing down the phone when he'd given you a condensed version of the story.
Because he hasn't asked you yet, not properly.
Even though he's spent the last two days at the back of barns and spending a ridiculous amount of time at the hardware store—because we need to make sure the lights stay up, Jav.
He just hasn't found the right time to ask you. A promise each time he goes to see you left in the air. Not that his Pop remembers that, instead he's just busy thinking up ways to make it special: one of which includes decorating the trees at the entrance to the ranch.
An idea having sprouted with the newest ranch hand—one which, if Javi overheard correctly, involves rope acting like tinsel and a cowboy hat being the star on the top of the trees.
Feeling his phone vibrate, he temporarily ignores it as he begins to weave the beginning of the garland around the wood—already knowing, before he tries to move it around the spindles, that it isn’t going to be easy.
Because nothing ever fucking is.
Least of all when you’re waiting for him.
His mind begins to concoct images of you in bows and sheer material, lips painted, sat waiting, smelling nothing short of heavenly as you call out for—
“Fuck,” he shouts, dropping the garland to the ground.
It had pricked him, stabbed him right in the skin—hand shaking the pain out, face likely all scrunched. And, if it didn't have sentimental value, he's sure he'd have kicked its protesting ass with everything he had. Instead, he just narrows his eyes more than he had done moments ago as he begins again.
He feels his nostrils flare when it begins to undo itself. The sound of faux bristles on wood grates him before it will even attempt to do what he needs it to.
And it makes him want to quit, to throw it back into the box and tell his Pop it isn’t worth it. But he knows it is. Knows that his mama didn’t spend hours bent over under flickering light for it not to be seen.
Javi also strongly suspects you’d love it. Likely run your fingers over several bows asking who made it. He can even imagine the look of joy on your face when he tells you.
It’s why, if he didn’t already suspect it anyway, he’s pretty sure his Pop loves you more than him. Because even the first Christmas he was back, there weren’t this many decorations; not nearly as much need to have them all out, either.
Not that Javi really minds—or blames him.
There’s a notable shift in energy when you stay over. Even more so in him. He can see there’s a cheer and a glow to the place—one Javi hates watching vanish when he takes you back to your place.
It's why, when—and where—he can, he fights for you to be here. Practically finds convincing ways to do so, including, crossword puzzles, dinner, and two-person showers. But, at some stage, your clothing dwindles, underwear runs low, and he has to make the painful drive into town to return you to your place.
Your fingers in his hair, practically clambered into his lap as you whisper that you’ll be back before he knows it. His fingers on your chin, thumb stroking out the words he says right back—that he’ll miss you all the same.
Javier Peña. Texan softie—what will the world think?
He only thinks one thing when he drives back—a response which had been there on his lips. Guess they’ll see just how much I love you. A thing you know, comment on, say back to him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. An array of promises there, sometimes spoken at a normal level and sometimes whispered.
You always keep them, just like the one that you are always back before he knows it.
He likes it when you are. Enjoys it when you’re nestled beside him, arm across his chest, hand close to his ribs—strumming them, tracing lines and words he tries to understand before sleep takes him.
He still always sleeps better when you’re beside him. When his breathing can mirror yours, when he can feel for you in the night when he’s awoken with nightmares and things he knows won’t ever come true.
Now, he’s fighting a different battle. One to get to you.
Halted in his path to freedom by the garland which refused to be hung, and could be labelled as giving him more grief than the horses which had banded together. A phrase he never thought he’d admit out loud, never mind think.
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You still fighting with the garland?
baby its torturing me on purpose
Do you want me to come and help?
will you come in the stockings
No!! Your dad is there.
then stay there actually lie down, but do not begin without me
Still need the star putting on the top of the tree.
ive got other plans for you
Because I’m the star?
yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back
Hurry then.
i’m hurrying
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He does hurry—practically scratched up by the time he’s parking his truck outside your place.
As he takes the step up to your door, Javi realises how much he misses it here when he doesn’t visit. A place less frequent and often spent time in, even under your insistence of renting it.
It is always usually a stopping point, him parking up, letting you go in and grab what you need before you're back in his truck, heading back to his.
He does like your place though, likes how small it is, how cosy. Plus, it has all the things which make you, you. A thing his place is currently missing.
Although, as he steps through the door, and calls your name, he does have to admit it currently looks fucking ridiculous.
On a good day, he’d describe your place as crowded, but right now, it’s claustrophobic.
The tree you’d forced him to get is shoved into a corner, branches fluffed out, surrounded by the piles of unpacked boxes you’ve tried to discreetly hide. Your remaining floorspace is overtaken by a bit of rug, several piles of books (you have no room for, but continue to buy) and odd bits of furniture you find and attempt to restore.
For the most part, you’ve decorated. A thing you did inform him of.
You’ll be pleased to know when you get here your only job is the star. managed it all yourself, did you I’m a very competent woman, Javi. oh i know baby ive seen you with a crossword Does that do it for you? Me finishing a crossword. does something to me Get over here. im leaving now
There’s a warm, comforting glow spread out across the place from the fairy lights you’ve hung and the array of mismatched decorations—both bought and handmade—hanging from branches.
He breathes in the scent of orange which hangs in the air, his eyes finding the culprit on your fireplace, a garland—one not dissimilar to the one he’d been battled with—places there, mocking him due to the ease of which had been laid, with oranges and little beads all entwined within it.
Snorting, he glances back at your tree, spotting the things he's been with you when you've bought. And, as promised—and informed him through text—there’s nothing at the top of your tree.
“You finally made it!”
Spinning on his heel, he comes face to face with you, and fuck if the sight of you doesn’t make it all worth it.
Dressed in a red, silky dressing gown, all tied in the middle, you're a vision. Then, there's the fact your lips are painted a shade he’d now famously dub Christmas red, a colour he wants nothing more than to be stained with. A path of it from his mouth down to the space where his jeans meet his hips. A thought which seems to only make how tight his jeans are even more uncomfortable.
“Cariño, you’re…”
You sway a little, letting the fabric move—allowing his gaze to land on the stockings. The ones he’s been thinking about all afternoon. The ones he can’t wait to feel under his palm and know whether they’ll create friction when wrapped around his waist.
“Fuck me.”
“I’m kinda banking on it,” you say, biting your red-painted lip. “But first…”
His hand crawls around your waist, feeling the smooth, soft texture under his hand—swallowing, dragging his eyes up and down you, unsure how he could ever be so lucky—how something so good could ever be here for him to unwrap.
“I need you to hang the star,” you continue.
“Right now?”
Nodding, you ghost your lips over his. “I’ve been so good waiting for you.”
“You're never good. You, baby, are a menace.”
“I’m your menace.”
Snorting, he presses a kiss to your lips. “Damn right, you are.”
Moving from you, reluctantly, only to pick up the gold star he assumes you want to hang, getting a nod from you that he’s right.
“Need to ask you something too.”
And even though he’s only taken a mere short step from you, he’s floored all over again about what a picture you look like when he glances back. That you’re standing all for him, dressed in nothing but cheer and ribbons all for him.
“Go on.”
Turning to your tree, he flattens his hand to the wall for stability. “I wanted…”
His concentration slides in—suddenly aware he doesn’t want to knock anything from the branches. Doesn’t want to force things to be misplaced from where they were expertly hung.
He’s also sure he’s wanting to swallow the question. A part of him, all the way deep inside of him, having been bracing—and waiting—to hear you’d be apart for the holidays. A thing the two of you have rarely been since you moved here, not a day going by he hasn’t seen you for at least an hour.
“Wanted to know if you—shit—” the star almost sitting atop, before at the last minute protesting. “I wanted to know if you wanted to spend Christmas with me—with us, me and Pop. At the ranch.”
The star slides into place, sitting more comfortably with another shove, more branch supporting it.
But he doesn’t turn, not immediately. Not as the question hums around him, swirls in the silence of you not immediately saying yes. So much so, that it takes him a second to move on his heels, to face you—to read the answer before it’s delivered.
What he sees is something his heart couldn’t have ever prepared for.
You, grinning—a silly, almost goofy, smile spreading out as you bite down on your lip, forehead slightly crinkled.
“You… you want me to spend the holidays with you?”
“Of course—cariño, I want nothing more than for you to be with me.”
It all quick to leave his mouth, mirroring the movement to be back in front of you, fingers under your chin, lifting your eyes—those beautiful, fucking eyes—to his.
“Do… do you—wanna spend it with me?”
You pull a different face before you’re nodding. One more excited, one which begins to expel out over a smile and a bunch of escaping phrases such as I can’t believe you want me with you and of course.
“Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”
Shrugging, you scrunch your nose—an act he finds just as cute as the first time he saw it. “Guess it’s a big deal. It’s… a thing people do with families.”
Pulling you close by your hips, your hand lands flat on his chest. “You are my family.”
“Javi,” you whisper, making each letter feel so individual the way you say it, that it makes his heart double.
“It’s true. You’re it for me, cariño. All I’ve wished for.”
Eyes widening, your eyes shimmer under the lights—more so than normal. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin before pressing a kiss to his mouth. One which turns hungry, desperate—your mouth searing, a thing he’s craved since he woke up before the sun even rose.
“Baby,” you whisper.
And he hums.
It vibrates out, able to feel it from the way his fingers cup your cheek.
“Undo me.”
Releasing your lips with a pop, he opens his eyes, studying your eyes, moving from one to the other.
“Go on,” you urge in a whisper, more breathless, more tinged with something that makes his skin hot.
Sliding his fingers over the knot, he barely has to tug before it comes undone—unveiling you, like a curtain which wishes to part. If he’d thought you’d looked good before, he’s sure every bit of you is a sin now—a Christmas sin.
Red and lace. It’s all he sees. It sitting there, against you, hugging your breasts—sitting on your hips. His mouth is suddenly dry at the thought of running his tongue over the place it meets your skin before pulling it down.
Your fingers follow his eyes, sliding between the valley to land on the bow in the centre, twisting the edge of the tie around your index finger—palm skating over your stomach, allowing him more chance to take in how you’re stood before him in see-through fabric and promises.
“How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, more to no one, than to you.
His fingers teasing the fabric sat on your hip—marvelling, unsure how to think straight until you clear your throat, forcing his eyes to meet yours.
“Hey,” you whisper, tightening your hold on his hands, bringing his arms more around your waist, pressing your front to him, feeling the heat from your skin through your clothes. “You’re all I wished for too.”
Smiling, he looks at your tree, before landing back on you. “You look so good.”
“I know. Could look better though?” His brow arches as you slowly begin to smile, the tip of your tongue sliding over your upper lip. “Everything is held in place by bows.”
Groaning, he closes his eyes, letting his hand slide down your lower back, over sheer material before his fingers find the ribbon on your hip.
“All for you.”
“Mine,” he answers, slotting his mouth over yours—staining the four letters to your lips.
His fingers slide around, brushing over soft skin, until he finds the first bow. Undoing it with ease, licking into your mouth, only to grunt against you when you whimper as the fabric falls to your feet.
“Yours,” you say back, your own hands beginning to undo him.
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an: merry christmas, love you
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0oolookitsme · 2 months
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Such an Opportunist
This one was going be a rather sad and angsty one, but it quickly took a turn ...and hopefully, it was for the better. I'll surely write another fic for what I wanted this one to be, but nonetheless – I hope you enjoy this one!
Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n
Word Count - 1.7k
Warnings - Some new-parental-stress in the beginning.
Harry really needs to sleep, and Y/n is very shocked to learn that he's written songs she'd yet to hear. Also, Harry falls on some Lego bits and what better opportunity to ask for a back massage?
Please rb to share! | Masterlist
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Harry was in the kitchen, making himself another cup of tea while chewing on some raisins. He could hear Amore playing with her toys around him somewhere and Y/n's humming voice was the only other sound travelling through the house -- apart from the whirring of the washing machine as well that Harry had thought he had broken on his first try.
Andre's wailing had quieted down, some sniffles being the only indication that he was still recovering from the fall. He had fallen from the couch onto the pillow that Y/n had laid on the floor just in case that very thing would happen -- and Harry and her both suspected that the little boy was just shocked.
"Hm, make me one too?" Y/n meekly requested on entering the kitchen, her fingers weaving through her hair to make a braid.
Harry turned back and automatically his first glance landed on Andre, feeling relief when he saw him playing with Amore on the carpeted floor -- and then, snaked his arms around Y/n's waist.
"Feelin' very sleepy today, thought another bedtime tea would surely be helpful" he chuckled hoarsely, before pecking her lips. "Don't know what I was thinking when I put the kettle on the stove," resting his head in the curve of her neck, he admitted. 
Y/n only sighed in response, swaying the both of them as she wrapped her arms around his slouched frame. She could tell that the sleep deprivation was beginning to mess with him. "Been craving a lot of Earl Grey, recently, haven't you?" She huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss somewhere on his ear lobe.
He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, considering that the pair of twins were teething at the same time, and he was on duty. He and Y/n did all that they could -- from gum massaging to freezing milk popsicles. The silicone teethers and other toys were great help, but only during the day. It was the nighttime, during which Harry and Y/n lived the actual nightmare.
On the night prior to the last one, it was Y/n's turn to look after the babies, and it was one of the worst nights ever. So much so, that Harry was unable to go to sleep because of the loud wails and the fact that his babies were helplessly hurting. So, he was up along with her, although he remained in bed and held onto Amore who had been whimpering with her head nuzzled in his chest – all while looking at Y/n pace around the nursery they'd built out of the room right next to theirs, with a sobbing Andre clung to her chest, bouncing herself in different motions to somehow get him to relax, in the baby monitor
So, it only made sense for him to be tired and sleepy out of his mind.
"I'm glad you came home early tonight. Was hoping you'd sleep in early," Y/n mumbled as she scratched his scalp, something that never failed to soothe him. "I'll take care of tonight. Got to peel some peas, too, you know?" Chuckling, she continued -- "It's been a while."
Harry hummed back, taking a deep breath before rising back to his height. He pressed a chaste kiss on her upper lip, and placed his hands on her love handles, already missing the warmth of her neck and Andre's baby scent that lingered there.
"Only had to do some composing today," he told her. "Pretty happy with the way the song's turning out," he smiled before he moved over to take the kettle off the stove. 
It made Y/n smile, that they were finally talking about something that wasn't in regards to their children or about how tired they were. Because those two topics seemed to be the only thing that they ever talked about these past few days, and she was beginning to anticipate a fight brewing somewhere in a dark corner, away from sight.
Sliding her bottom on the kitchen island, she sat cross legged on it and -- "Oh really? I'm so happy!" She chirped. "Tell me more!"
She heard him laugh lightly, and she felt as if she were glowing because of how happy she'd gotten. "C'mon! I wanna know!" She urged him to hurry as he waited for the tea to leave its flavour in their cups.
Harry laughed again, as if her happiness was contagious.
"You know the song I told you about, the day before yesterday? The one which I described as silently and shyly explicit?" He asked her, turning around with a cup in each hand. He was holding the body of her cup so that she could hook her fingers through its handle and wouldn't burn herself with how hot the cup was, and Y/n's heart felt like it was merely a puddle in her chest cavity.
She hummed in response, motioning him to sit and giving him a look when he only leaned his bottom on the kitchen counter, and crossed his feet at the ankles in front of her.
"Well, I named it 'Keep Diving'," he gleamed. "I can't wait for you to hear it! I think we just have to give it some touch-ups tomorrow," slurping on his tea just to annoy her, he grinned proudly.
"So... am I going to hear it tomorrow, or when the whole album is ready?" She asked him with narrowed eyes, pointing a finger gun at him.
Harry laughed out loud and immediately held his cup a little farther from his chest so he wouldn't spill the tea on himself. "You've heard every song I've made so far! Music For A Sushi Restaurant, Late Night Talking, Satellite, As It Was, and Grapejuice," he recapped the song titles for her.
"And, Keep Driving, of course," he said. "Which I think I'll let you hear once the album is ready, along with a few other ones," a smirk pulled one corner of his lips upside and dug a dimple in his cheek. He was growing a stubble.
Y/n gasped loudly; mouth wide open and eyes stilled at him in shock. "There are multiple songs you're hiding from me?" She exclaimed, placing her cup beside her before she could drop it.
Harry pretended to run, looking anywhere but in her eyes. "You are the first person to listen to anything I write! I'm just planning to surprise you with ...a few," he accepted sheepishly.
Her eyes had now fallen in suspicious slits that glared at him. "How many?" She asked, swinging her legs off of the island.
"I mean, there are songs I still need to write but... I've got 3, I think, that you don't know about," he emphasised as if that'd save him from her hands that seemed to be ready to attack him with pinches and tickles. So, he quickly chugged the last few sips of his tea that had gone cold by now, and slid the cup on the counter before taking off from the kitchen.
He ran carefully so he wouldn't slip in his socks, but that wasn't helping because she was running after him without a care in the world. Although, it was when she began laughing and shrieking behind him that Harry couldn't help but turn to see what had caught her attention that was funnier to her than them being grown-up adults, running after each other like they were kids again.
And the sight amused Harry to the level that he had to stop to laugh at it, which caused Y/n to slam into him because she was looking behind her instead of looking ahead.
Hary went tumbling down on the Lego bits the kids had built and he cried out loudly in pain, the pieces digging into his back as Y/n fell over him. She was laughing at him but her eyes showed concern for him, and before she would've gotten up to help him, the two little bodies that were running behind her came and halted at her feet.
She sighed in relief, slightly proud that they already held that certain maturity but then Andre bent his knees, and made a big jump on her back as if she were playing horses with him and Amore followed soon behind him, crawling up Y/n's leg and stopping once she was sitting behind Andre.
"Oh my -- god," Harry gritted through his teeth, wrapping his arms around Y/n so the kids atop of her wouldn't fall in case his groaning body tilted to the side in pain.
"Oh my god," Y/n also hissed, mainly for Harry but also because of the attack on her poor back. Her face still showed amusement as she tried to reach for the kids' hands above her and get them off of her. "Get up, Andre, Amore – get up," she urged them and sighed when they did.
She exhaled in relief on her back, but then Harry groaned again beneath her.
"Get up, Y/n," Harry gritted once more and Y/n stilled in realisation before rolling over, onto the floor on her back, spewing apologies.
His eyes were tightly shut when Y/n got up and offered him her hand. “H, give me your hand,” she asked of him, feeling warm inside that the kids were each on his sides and pressing their little hands on his biceps, shaking him thinking he was asleep.
Harry took in a ragged breath before opening his eyes, wincing when the kids shouted in delightment that they had woken him up. But, nevertheless, he set a pointed look on Y/n at once.
“I’m not letting you get away with this so easily, woman.” He said in a strained voice. “You better get you oils ready to rub ‘em in my back.”
That made Y/n gasp once again and she placed her hand on her hip while pointing a finger at him with the other one. “You’re such an opportunist! Taking advantage of the situation!” She called him out with an accusatory tone to her voice, and only shook her head when he shrugged with a menacing smile on his mouth, grasping at her withheld hand.
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nexusnyx · 1 year
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Hello🥰 It's not a request per say, but I'm really curious what's one of your favorite Joel headcanons if it's ok to share it now? Your writing is amazing, thank you for sharing it with us!
Jules, I am so glad you asked this question. I've been dying to just talk about the things Joel Miller enjoys.
(Also, thank you so much?! It means the world you enjoy my writing! <3)
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Starting from the top, shall we? Pre-outbreak Joel Miller, well..
He's reserved only to people he doesn't trust. If you don't know a thing about Joel Miller, you better bet Joel doesn't like your ass.
Worry not about miscommunication—that's a word his vocabulary lacks. Whatever he feels or not for you, he'll make it known. Unless you're his old neighbors, Joel has no qualms about keeping shit to himself. He'll just say it.
His mouth got him into trouble when he was younger. Often.
It's why he learned to react in his mind first, speak later. Too bad his face gives away his feelings anyway.
Speaking of feelings... Joel Miller is a romantic. Big, big time. It's why he's single after all these years and Sarah's mom — "if it ain't the right thing, I don't want it."
Joel's not scared of being alone because he likes his own company. It's why he values so much when he finds another one he enjoys, too. He appreciates real connections. Good conversation.
Hates small talk. Will not do it. Will get away with doing it 9/10 times.
Blood is made of caffeine, sandwiches, and take-out food, which is why...
He's a whore for home-cooked meals. He gets by on his own, but he doesn't have the heart for cooking. Tommy got those genes. Joel would sell his soul for home-cooked meals everyday, and he'll say it to whoever hears it.
Workaholic only because he wants to put Sarah through a good university, but when she complains about the lack of time she has with her father, he compromises. Hires more people, tries to balance work and Sarah.
Balance is not really his expertise. But Joel's good at compromising. Rationalizing. He's a man of structure, of building things from scratch—he knows the value of firm, solid base.
Not really a sports kind of guy, actually. He'll watch it, but... Shrugging it off. "I don't see what the big deal is over a ball. I mean — it's fun, but damn. Breaking windows and busting fists on walls ain't my thing. Not over a damn football, at least."
On the other hand... history buff. Over the strangest, weirdest, most specific topics. Joel has trouble naming three countries in Asia, but he can tell you in details everything about Mayan construction and their society. Go figure.
He's a man of taste. Good food, strong alcohol, fruit picked from the tree, and woman who let him sink to his knees and taste them 'till he's drunk on it. He's starving, quite often.
Joel's a tease.
He can play a game of chicken all night long. No fucks given about how hard he's straining in his jeans or the beads of sweat trailing from his nape down his spine — if you touch him when you two are out, he will make you live to regret it. To whine and cry his name.
Joel loves a playful thing. Seriousness is imbedded in his bones, he loves a person that can make him laugh.
His sense of humor is... peculiar.
("It's shite. You're sense of humor's the same as a fifty-six year old man, Joel." "You say that and yet, you're laughin'... how does that work, beautiful?")
You know his taste? His sharp tongue, his clever brain and quick fingers? Yeah... it makes him a cocky bastard.
Everything Joel has of insecurity, he equals in cockiness once he knows his person's attracted to him.
Reciprocity's big on him.
Joel pays attention to details. He'll remember the outfit you were wearing the day you two met 'till the day he dies, which is why he knows when he's in deep from miles away.
Loves being surprised, exactly because of this ^.
Joel loves through gestures, through words, through action.
Love language is touch, touch, words of affirmation, touch.
Never gonna half-ass anything that matters to him. Never.
Will play to you when he decides to confess his feelings. Will sing his heart out, even if he’s not that good at it (his words), will make himself vulnerable and open like a wound if he thinks he’s in safe hands.
One in a million. Joel’s one in a million and when the right person comes along to appreciate it, Joel only glows. Only glows up, and gets finer with each passing day, like a great wine.
(If you’d like me to do post-outbreak Joel, I could..)
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AITA for not going to my brother's wedding?
I (35F) and my brother (29M) have always had a bit of a rocky relationship. Like, don't get me wrong, I love him, always have, always will. That said, we've been at each other's throats since he was capable of speech, and probably will be until one of us dies of spite.
My brother, let's call him Carter, has been in an on-and-off relationship with Taylor (29F) ever since they were in middle school. Personally, I hate Taylor, and I'm fine keeping it that way. She treats Carter like shit, she's cheated on him more times than I can count, she steals money from him, she is just an awful person to be around. Like, don't get me wrong, Carter's also an asshole, but can you really blame him considering what he has to deal with?
Now, a few months ago, they broke things off after Taylor stole his car to go and hook up with a guy in another state. He got the car back, told her to go fuck herself, and that was that. In the meantime, he ended up moving in with his best friend since high school (28M), let's call him Tim, and they have been no contact with Taylor ever since. About a month ago, I was talking to Carter, and he sheepishly told me that he had realized he was bisexual and was now dating Tim.
Honestly, I was ecstatic. Like, he and Taylor have been a thing for forever, and despite all of their breakups, I've never seen Carter actually date someone other than her. Also, Tim is someone that has a really good head on his shoulders. He can be a dick, but honestly, so can Carter, and he's really smart and down-to-earth. I was super accepting, of course, and I told Carter how happy I was for him, how glad I was to see him moving on and living his best life with someone that actually respects him.
Fast forward to last week. It's my day off, and I'm hanging out at my house, getting some chores done, when I get a call from Carter. I pick up and ask him how he's doing, and he tells me that he's doing good, but he wants me to come down to the courthouse. I ask him what for, and he tells me he's getting married! I'm kind of in shock, like--yeah, I'm glad he's with Tim, but isn't that a little fast?
That is, of course, when he drops the bomb on me: He's not marrying Tim. Taylor came crawling back yesterday and proposed to him. He's marrying Taylor.
I lose it a bit, I ask him if he's lost his mind, and we get into a shouting match over the phone. He tells me I'm being a bitch, I tell him it'll be a cold day in hell when I just stand there like a dumbass at his and Taylor's wedding. I don't go, they get married, that's that.
Yesterday, I went out to get lunch at my usual spot, and who do I see but Tim. I sit down with him and ask him how he's doing, ask him what's going on in his life, and so on. I tell him I feel so awful that things went sideways with Carter, and tell Tim that he's always a part of our family, even if Carter's lost his mind and dumped the best thing that's ever happened to him. Tim gives me a weird look, and asks what I'm talking about. I tell him that I heard about Carter and Taylor getting married, and that's when he drops the bomb on me that he's still in a relationship with Carter.
At first, I'm pissed at Carter for cheating on Tim, but Tim reassures me that he's into it--something I wouldn't have expected from him. I mean, I'm glad Carter still has Tim in his life I guess, but I still feel like he's being a dick to Tim. I don't tell Tim that, but I do tell him that I can't accept my brother marrying Taylor.
He tells me that he knows, but that Carter's been miserable since the wedding after I didn't show up. Tim tells me that Carter misses me, and that he's really been hoping I reach out. That's a surprise to me, because he's been saying he's not going to talk to me again until I apologize.
I really do care about my brother, but I can't pretend I support him marrying someone that's just going to keep being a toxic presence in his life. I don't care about how many people he's in a relationship with, or whether he's straight or bi or gay or whatever. I just want him to be safe and happy, and I know this relationship is really bad for him. Tim seems to think I should have just sucked it up and gone to his wedding anyways for the sake of my relationship with him. I'm starting to have doubts--I know I hurt him. But I also don't feel sorry. AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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crunchypecans · 1 month
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heyy! Could you write something about ghost having a really famous girlfriend like she's kardashian level famous and she's a model. She always gushes about simon but never really reveal his identity during interviews. Please 💜💜
SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG💔 As soon as I got this, I started writing it, so I hope it's good or at least decent for you😭
“Some people believe that the boyfriend you talk about is fake, or fictional. Is that true?”
The interviewer asked the first question. You just smile and answer honestly.
“He's real. You don't have to believe me, but just know that he's something in my life that no one could make up.” Heat spread across your cheeks lightly.
“Oh? Why don't you bring him into the public?” The woman interviewing you live asked. Her long dark hair pulled up into a ponytail and her legs clad in expensive-looking material crossed.
You knew the answer perfectly. It's because you knew how scary the internet and public could be, and as a celebrity yourself, you would never purposely bring Simon into a place where he might get hurt, despite his strong and big physique. You knew he could handle himself, but people would do anything to bring you and anyone you loved down.
“We're all aware of the dangers that the public and internet brings to people, right?” You tilted your head, awaiting her response. You saw some people in the crowd nod along with her. “Let's just say I'm a bit protective. Paranoid, even, maybe. I can't risk anything happening.”
Despite how rich and famous you were, and how many people you knew thought you were snobby and rude and inconsiderate, you cared a lot. A lot about Simon, at least. No one could ever compare to him. He's been with you for so long, he was your best friend and boyfriend, no one could compare.
“How does it feel to be his girlfriend?” She asked.
“Amazing. He buys me gifts, he cuddles with me at night and we have a routine together.” Just talking about him made your heart throb. “Every night, we brush our teeth together and get dressed together, then we snuggle in bed and watch a few episodes of the series we're currently watching on Netflix before we turn it off and kiss and sleep. Shower in the mornings.”
You kept some things a secret from the public, like what actually happens before you two go to sleep. They didn't need to know. But nothing bad ever happened with Simon, hell you were waiting for him to propose the second you got with him. The very first date, you already started planning the wedding without him knowing. If he had a bad day, your day was also bad. If your day was bad, he also had a bad day, and it always ended in soft kisses because he loves spoiling you in them.
Everything was fine, people weren't sending threats to Simon for being yours because no one knew it was Simon. No one was sending threats to you for being with Simon because no one knew. It was easy.
Eventually, though, months later, Simon started asking to go out with you. In public. You've been with him in public before, but that was before you were famous, before everyone had their eyes on you. At first, you were scared but then you went out to a fancy restaurant with him and everyone was snapping pictures and complimenting your relationship. Your nerves have calmed down.
After four years of gushing over him to the public, it felt good to show him off. You were just glad he stayed with you and showed you the same love he had for you before you were famous. People asked to get photos, and he gleefully took them with you and your fans and smiled beneath his mask.
Slowly, you went out with him more often in public, and little by little, you started showing affection to each other in public. Just small kisses and hugs, though. It's not that you were embarrassed of being with him, you were just scared that someone would try to take him from you. Either murder him or make him be with someone else. All your worries were soothed, though.
The public loved Simon, and it's just what you wanted.
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anonymouscheeses · 2 months
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more obvious shit I wanted to point out but it's more than last time uhhh pt.2 (spoilers for dad beat dad and maybe welcome to heaven. Maybe?)
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I love that Charlie just randomly goes into demon form sometimes like here ehhehehe. Also can I just say I love Charlie so much?? She is my favorite and I love her especially in this episode because it feels like the same optimistic Charlie but she was just put in a bad situation. I relate to her a bit TOO much, almost down to every detail like wow. You'll understand later once I get there. But just wow...
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LOOK AT THIS FUNNY LITTLE MAN. SPOODER DUST <3 also. Live [image] reaction. Someone make that into a reaction image 🙏🙏
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HONEY!!! NEW MEME TEMPLATE JUST DROPPED. (Aka the one guy going crazy trying to explain the stuff on the board iykyk)
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OMG... THAT CANT BE CHARLIE... NOT CHARLIE'S EMO PHASE PLEASE BAHAHAHHAHAHA (also love that Lucifer has kept it all these years, if Charlie knew I think she'd be extremely embarrassed. Vaggie would love it probably xd)
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HE IS SO GOOFY I CANT- I LOVE HIM SO MUCH ALREADY!!! NEED.
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Broskie got character development and is NICE?!? I LOVE THAT SMMM YALL.... LOOK AT HIM!! I am very delusional yes, but I will take this over ass development(cough. Vaggie's "story" in ep 3. Cough).
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Imagine this. *holds your hand carefully to help you calm down while talking to your father you haven't really wanted to talk to.* lesbian type stuff ngl 🤯 (relatable)
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Angel looking at the gays while being a gay too. HE'S BEING SO KIND TO CHARLIE UGGHH I CANTTT!!(POS) NODDING HIS HEAD, SMILING TO HER, ALSO TRYING TO HELP CALM HER DOWN. I MAY BE ASS AT SOCIAL CUES BUT I NOTICED THIS ONE!! YAA
*SHE IS STILL HOLDING HER HAND. CHARLIE'S ALSO SWINGING IT AROUND NERVOUSLY. I can never get tired of them and will make art soon just you wait.*
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COMMANDER VAGGIE! I love that she acts like this is a camp full of tiny kids and honestly? That's not too far off. Sir pentious is at the ready! (glad he's here more often in the episode, thought he would just get sidelined after his first episode but gladly no!) Angel is just surprised. Husk spilled his drink, ON WHITE FUR NO LESS! Niffty of course is on the floor face first. Charlie is just happy to be there yippee!
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What is this?? I have no idea what the hell it is at all. Bro is just peepin- it doesn't look like Alastor, even in demon form. And... I can't think of anyone else who could be this. Anyone have ideas or maybe it's foreshadowing? Maybe it was revealed in the 6th episode I don't know I haven't watched it yet. (I am a freak. I don't binge I give myself a day to watch a single episode. Most of the time uhhh.)
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WE LOVE A SHORT KING. I LOVE THAT. I LOVE HIM. THE EVERYTHING. HE IS EVERYTHING. LET ME STRANGLE HIM PLEASE. (Lillith and Lucifer's dynamic is 100% Gomez and Morticia but a little more silly short man)
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"OH WOW! AN OLDER MAN WHO GIVES ME FATHERLY CARE!" *STARTS TO FUCKING CRY*
I FEEL YOU CHARLIE WAAAGHHH
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Oh and there goes the silly guy again! Atp I'm thinking it may be the gal some people been talking about that they've been hinting since the pilot. I forgot her name but she's said to be the big bad of season 1 or probably 2. Not sure if that's what it's trying to imply but here's my little no-thought idea
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Lucifer, no...
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LUCIFER NO!! THIS IS SUCH AN ADORABLE RESPONSE TO CHARLIE DATING A WOMAN. (ADOPT ME)
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AND THEN THE HUG! I GET IM LOOKING TOO MUCH INTO THIS ONE SILLY SCENE BUT I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH AND WANT THIS SO BAD IN MY LIFE.
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Niffty really said, "Yes, I do the cleaning."
Get yourself a taller king who is a short king but compared to you is a tall king
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Say what you will, but I genuinely want more dad Alastor, someone make an au before I do plsss and @ me 🙏🙏
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alright.. now this is where it starts to be relatable and hurt my heart... yayy.... needing any sort of parent figure that actually cares about you than the actual parent who is rarely there? WOWZA! SAME CHARLIE <3 <3 (SO FAR VERY ACCURATE FROM SOMEONE THAT IS IN THE SAME SITUATION)
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Alastor is letting her off kindly, atleast in his way. He may be pissed off she brought a shark gang to the hotel and put it on fire, but they were still close friends. With anyone else he would absolutely either murder them or have severely traumatized the person. She's the exception, although I don't think he'd let it off the hook so easily if there were a next time.
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A father-daughter embrace! :,)
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(This is gonna be messy asf) He wants to know who she is as a person. He always has, and that's definitely obvious, but from a person inside this, they may not know themselves what the other is thinking. To Charlie it was like he never cared and just wanted an excuse to not see her again, acting like he was truly busy as in the start where he made the rubber duck that breathed fire. Sure. But Charlie saw it as him finding ways to not interact with her again. The only times they talk was when it was related to business stuff or other things of the sort. Let me just say this song... is by far my favorite, including the episode. Sure, it's got problems it's own, but this extremely accurate portrayal of what my own situation with one of my parents just stole my entire soul. Yeah I got a bit of tears about to come out, BUT NOPE! NOT TODAY! I don't ever cry during shows or movies so if I ever get teary-eyed, YOU DID SOMETHING. THAT SOMETHING BEING GOOD. This episode was emotional and connected with me on a deep level that I dont think any film has ever done to me, which is weird because I've been actively trying to find one, any one that does. Then to find it in an indie company from a creator who has achieved the dreams that I myself want to one day? That's fucking amazing.
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FORESHADOWING! FROESHADOWING! FORESHADOWING! VAGGIE EX-ANGEL THEORY MUST BE CANON AND IF ITS NOT I WILL TEAR MYSELF LIMB FROM LIMB WITH A CROWBAR. LETS GO TO HEAVENNN!!! TOMORROW! BECAUSE THE DAY I PUBLISH THIS WILL BE TOMORROW(FOR YOU TODAY) BUT TOMORROW FOR YOU ILL POST THE NEXT WHAT I CAUGHT SHENANIGANS AGAIN! SEE YA!
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eufezco · 1 year
Text
I DID IT FOR YOU – Tyler Galpin x fem!vampire!reader
WEDNESDAY MAJOR SPOILERS !!
Summary - Wednesday's plan for you to stay away from Tyler after she found out that he's the Hyde.
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"Wednesday, don't." Enid said very seriously. More serious than Wednesday had ever heard her before. The blonde girl thought her friend's plan was merciless. Even for her. "I'm sure that if we talk to her... She'd understand."
Wednesday knew you wouldn't. She had spent enough time with you to already know how you would react to this. Dramatic, skeptical, and on the defensive for sure. Even if she'd tell you that she had seen it. That she had seen him turn into that. You'd never believe her because that's what love does. It blinds you. And Wednesday was completely fine and grossed at the same time with you being head over heels for him because not only it was reciprocate which was even more disgusting but also because she thought he was a nice one. And he would never hurt you. So she would have to do it for him.
"Wednesday, please." Enid begged while her friend prepared her bag to go to Jericho.
"There's no other way."
Once Wednesday arrived in Jericho, Tyler was getting things ready at the Weathervane to close the cafe. It had been a long day for him and he could only think about when you would arrive. He would drive you both to Nevermore and he would sneak into your shared dorm room. Enid would say that she was glad to see him again, and Wednesday would just hum at his presence. You four would talk for a bit before going to bed, him sitting in your bed wearing the pajamas you kept in your room for him and you by his side, playing with his big hands as he talked with your friends. Then you would fall asleep with your head on his chest after he peppered all your face with kisses. He'd hug you tight against his body, not letting you go at any moment of the night, and checking on you all the time. Were you hungry? Were you having a nightmare? Were you feeling sick? He was there.
"We're close." Tyler announced to the person going into the Weathervane at that time of the night.
"Then you should lock your doors."
Tyler turned around to see Wednesday. His expression changed after knowing that it was his friend. "Actually I was waiting for y/n."
"There are some real sick people out there, Tyler. You should be careful."
"Yeah, my dad told me what happened with Xavier. Pretty nuts." After mentioning Xavier, Tyler noticed how Wednesday's posture became tense. "Are you okay? I know you and him... Well, had this thing–"
"We had nothing. And yes, I'm fine. Perfectly fine." She said with her eyes locked on the boy in front of her. "It has made me revalue things." Wednesday walked slowly around the cafe. By the time she stopped, she made sure that Tyler had turned in on himself so he had his back to the door. The perfect position so he wouldn't see you coming.
"Like what?"
"Like who I can trust."
Wednesday took a step towards Tyler. He frowned at her sudden approach. "And I've come to the conclusion that you are the only one worth of my trust." The girl moved closer to Tyler, and none of them said anything else. Wednesday stood on her tiptoes and connected her lips with Tyler's. Then, she moved away from him to see his reaction.
"Wednesday..." Tyler murmured against her friend's lips right before the girl stood on her tiptoes again and kissed him one more time. This time the kiss was longer, Wednesday didn't separate and Tyler was glad that she didn't. His head told him to push Wednesday away, but instead, he cupped one of her cheeks and kissed her back. Your heart felt heavy inside your chest as you watched the scene, your knees felt weak, and your vision was blurred thanks to the tears in your eyes. You wanted to run but your eyes were locked on Tyler and Wednesday kissing. Your brain was telling you to burn that image in your mind so you would always remember you had a reason to hate the person you once loved the most.
Wednesday's eyes met yours when she parted ways with Tyler, her cold stare making you feel small. Tyler frowned in front of Wednesday and immediately after, he turned to see what she was looking at. He could feel his heart beating so hard against his chest that he even thought would stop. Tyler tried to get out of the cafe when he saw you leaving, but Wednesday quickly blocked his way, knowing that his instinct would make him follow you. "Stay away from her." She stated, her black eyes staring deeply into Tyler's, her lips pressed together, a sign of how serious she was being. They both shared a face of mutual disgust for each other; him because of what he just did, and her because of whom he had become. Tyler bumped into her shoulder but Wednesday was not going to give up so easily. She tried to stop him one more time by grabbing his arm, but she barely had him in her hand when with a sharp movement Tyler managed to escape her.
Wednesday followed Tyler outside. You were walking down the street in the middle of the road, hot tears rolling down your cheeks, and your body shaking because of your shorts and rapid breaths. Tyler called your name a few times and even had to do a little run to catch you. Wednesday was walking slowly behind you two. Her attention was always on Tyler and on what his next move could be.
"Y/n, wait, please."
You didn't listen to him and kept walking, with your fist clenched so tight that you could feel your long and sharp nails sinking into your skin. His hand grabbed your arm and made you stop and turn around to look at him. "Explain what?" You yelled to his face. Your eyes were dark red, the veins under your eyes that appeared only when you were really hungry or when you were really mad were decorating your skin, and you were fighting to not let your fangs out.
"She was the one that kissed me. I promise. She–”
Your jaw clenched. "I don't fucking care about who kissed who!" You snapped his hand off you and you threatened him with your index finger, pointing directly at his throat with your long and sharp nails. “You were kissing her back." Tyler craned his neck. Your lower lip was trembling while tears kept running down your cheeks. You didn't expect him to say anything else, and there was nothing he could say that would make you feel any better.
"I'm sorry, y/n–"
"I fucking hate you, and I hope I never have to see you again." Your words echoed inside his head. You lost interest in Tyler, who stood in front of you with glossy eyes, completely numb to everything that happened after what you said to him. You focused on Wednesday, who was a few steps behind him, watching the scene from the distance.
"You got what you wanted?"
"I did not want this."
"Of course you did. You know, because of things like this are why you are alone, and because you fucking deserve it." You said to your friend. Wednesday swallowed but showed no other reaction. It was enough to let you know that your words affected her. You looked at Tyler one last time, his face was pale and he couldn't make eye contact with you because of how ashamed he was. The next thing his eyes saw was you running as fast as you could so neither he nor Wednesday could catch you. You ran so fast that your legs started to burn from how weak they felt, ready to give up at any moment. It was strictly prohibited to go to the forest since Eugene got attacked by that monster, but at this point, you wouldn't mind about the Hyde finding you.
"You planned this." Tyler said to Wednesday. He didn't turn to look at her, just thinking about her face was making him feel sick. It was a very big coincidence that she kissed him and a few seconds later you appeared. He told her that he was waiting for you, but Tyler was pretty sure that Wednesday already knew that you were coming. "Why would you do this?"
"I want you away from her."
Tyler's lower lip trembled as he watched you disappear. Wednesday's words turned into the most annoying ringing sound in his ears, and then, all of a sudden, his breathing was out of control and he could feel that familiar pressure on his head as all of his muscles and bones writhed. You got lost running into the woods until you tripped and fell to your knees. You sobbed loudly as you blamed yourself for not have listened to Xavier when he warned you about Tyler. A part of you wanted to never see Tyler again. The other part of you wished that he would've gone after you, hugged you against his body when he'd found you lying on the ground, and allowed you to cry your eyes out on him.
At the end of the day, you expected Tyler to comfort in you the same way you did that night when you found him in the same forest you were. With blood covering his body and dripping from his mouth, extremely confused, and with that hiker's body completely dismembered by his side.
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THIS ONE WAS FOR US THE GIRLIES WHO DONT GIVE A F ABOUT TYLER BEING THE HYDE 💋💋
A/N: THIS ISN'T A SECOND PART OF A TASTE OF YOU
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roosterforme · 8 months
Text
The Curveball Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC
Summary: Bob ends up on thin ice with Molly after Bradley ends up on thin ice with her sister. But all he can think about is the perfect night he spent with her and how he'd be crushed if he didn't get a chance to do it all again. 
Warnings: Fluff, angst, 18+
Length: 5300 words
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)
Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist
Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!
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Bob was trying his best to be in the moment at the Hard Deck, since he was the one who invited Molly's sister out for a drink. He wanted to say thank you for all the hard work she put in while Bradley was away. But he was so distracted. 
Molly had spent the entire day sending him selfies while she was at work, and some of them were definitely rated mature. Bob had almost broken his phone earlier trying to minimize a photo of Molly's pierced nipples when Coyote walked over to him. She had snapped the photo of herself in the bathroom at the hospital when she was on break along with the caption I miss you, Bobby <3
The little heart at the end reminded him that he had already said he loved her. He assumed she hadn't heard him, but it made him blush just the same. And now he was at the bar with her sister and Bradley, which should have been fun, but he just wanted to get home and see Molly. 
Bob watched Nat and Jake both relentlessly flirt with Team Mom, but there was no way she had eyes for anyone except Bradley. And then he wondered what it would be like if he brought Molly here. He wanted to, because he already wanted to be with her all the time. But...Bob looked around at all the guys, and that feeling of self doubt was back. Jake was handsome and charming, and probably the kind of guy Molly was used to being with. 
When Nat offered to buy a drink for Team Mom, Bob cut her off, glad for the distraction. "No, it's on me! It's the least I can do since you gave up so much of your time this week to fill in for Bradley. What do you like?" And while he was up at the bar, waiting patiently for Penny to fill his order, Molly's sister ran out of the bar, followed closely by Bradley. 
"What happened?" Bob asked, holding two beers while Jake rubbed his forehead with his fingers. He mumbled a response and walked away, but when Bradley finally came back inside, he looked like he was ready to kill Jake. 
And then the barrage of text messages from Molly came through. Bob's eyes went wide as he read them.
Are you aware that your buddy Bradley is actually a fucking dickhead? I can't BELIEVE what he did to my sister! 
Seriously, Bob. Why didn't you warn my sister about him?! What the fuck! He called Everett baggage!
Please tell me you're not like him!
You know what? Maybe I don't want to find out. 
Bob called her immediately, but she didn't answer. When he got her voicemail, he said, "Mo, please call me back so we can talk, okay? I don't think Bradley meant any of what he said. He's not a bad guy. And I... don't think I could ever do anything to hurt you." He contemplated telling her he loved her again, but he ended the call before he could. 
He was already home for the night when he got one last text from her.
I'm not coming over. 
Bob collapsed in his bed, raking his fingers through his hair, wondering if this, of all things, was what would cost him his chance with her.
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Molly was having a wonderful evening with Everett. They painted huge masterpieces on poster boards and left all the messy brushes in the kitchen sink. Molly secretly loved leaving an innocuous mess for her sister to clean up in her otherwise spotless house. It kept her on her toes. 
"Movie time? With ice cream?" she asked Everett, checking the time. Of course she'd let him stay up late. That's just what aunts did. 
"There's ice cream?!" he shouted, sprinting back into the kitchen.
"Of course there's ice cream," she replied, kneeling in front of the freezer. "I know all of your mom's secrets. She thinks she's so sneaky, but you can't get anything past me." After removing all the healthy, pre portioned frozen dinners, Molly hit the jackpot. There was a gallon of fudge ripple and a gallon of vanilla raspberry. "See?" she asked Everett, holding them both up.
"Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple!" he chanted, and soon they were watching a PG-13 movie with two spoons stuck in the ice cream carton. 
"Want some more?" she asked, passing the carton to him.
He took a bite and said, "I don't think my mom wanted me to watch this movie."
Molly sighed and shook her head. "I'll cover your eyes for the scary parts, okay?"
"Okay!" he agreed.
Molly took a few more bites before she asked him, "You like Coach Bob, right?"
"Oh yeah, like a whole lot," he replied. "Almost as much as I like Coach Bradley."
"That's a lot," Molly muttered. "I like him, too." She was smiling as Everett looked at her. 
"You should probably marry him," he said seriously. "I heard my mom say that Coach Bob is smart and nice and that she never thought you could do so well."
Molly scoffed and rolled her eyes. "That sounds exactly like something your mom would say, and that's exactly why we are eating her overpriced ice cream without her. Now close your eyes for the scary part."
About twenty minutes later, Everett was sound asleep on her lap while she finished the ice cream. Then she carried him up to bed, starting to get a little nervous that her sister would be back soon. She tucked him in, turned on his nightlight, and then hightailed it back to the kitchen to hide the evidence of the empty ice cream carton. 
But when she got home, Molly could tell something was wrong and went right into protective jungle cat mode. "What happened?" she asked softly as soon as she saw her sister's tear streaked cheeks and quivering lips.
After a few minutes of being held in Molly's arms, she was able to whisper, "Bradley told all of his friends that he'd never date me, because I have baggage."
"That fucking prick. Does Bob know about this?"
"Probably," she said softly against Molly's shoulder. "He must."
"I'll call him right now," Molly said vehemently. 
"No, please don't. You had an immaculate first solo date with him last night which ended in a hot makeout session. I don't want the three ring circus that is my life to start messing up yours."
It had been more than a makeout session, but Molly wasn't going to correct her. She was so into Bob after being intimate with him, that she was devastated now. Because Molly knew she would ditch him in an instant, even if it would hurt, in order to support her family. 
Molly kissed her sister's cheek and promised, "Your life is not a three ring circus. And Everett is not baggage. And Bradley isn't worth your time if that's what he thinks. Now let me help you get changed for bed."
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Bob barely slept, and he was wide awake before his alarm went off on Saturday morning for the tee ball game. He hadn't heard another word from Molly. Even if she wanted to yell over the phone, he would have loved to hear her voice. 
When he arrived at the ballfield, Bradley was already there. "You look like shit," Bob told him, and he could hear the disappointment in his own voice. 
Bradley closed his eyes briefly. "I feel worse. Promise."
"Did you talk to her?" Bob asked. Bradley didn't hang around at the bar last night after things blew up, so Bob really wasn't sure exactly how bad it was.
"She doesn't want to talk to me. I'm such an idiot."
Bob just kind of shrugged as he set things up for their game against the Tiny Blue Jays. "Molly is angry, too," Bob informed him. "She's barely texted me back since yesterday."
Now Bradley looked sincerely upset on Bob's behalf. "I'm so sorry."
"I'll figure it out," Bob mumbled. "And you need to apologize to Team Mom until she forgives you. Did you tell her that you said all of that stuff a long time ago? You barely even knew her then."
"Yeah, but I still said it," Bradley replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "And between the slap to my face and the valid points she was yelling at me, I didn't get a chance to try to explain myself. But she's not going to want to hear it anyway."
Then Bob felt his heart lurch as he looked up toward the parking lot and saw Molly and Everett headed his way. "I'll be right back," he mumbled and headed for her immediately. 
Everett ran past him, calling out, "Hi, Coach Bob!" before continuing on to Bradley. But Bob had his sights set on Molly and her beautiful face filled with indignant anger.
"Molly," he gasped, wanting to reach for her as she came stomping to a halt in front of him. She was glorious. God, he was in love with her.
"Tell me you knew," she demanded. "Tell me you knew Bradley was trying to play my sister." She was practically vibrating with concealed rage now. "Tell me you fucking knew he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as them."
Bob swallowed hard, and her eyes flashed. "Molly, he loves them. I don't think he would do or say anything to intentionally hurt either of them." 
"He has a sick way of showing it," she spat. "He called Everett baggage."
Bob held his forehead in his hands. "I think Bradley just needs to talk to her. He's so crazy about them, he's really beating himself up."
Bob watched Molly glance past him to glare at Bradley while he helped Everett get ready for the game. "He can rot," she said, but her voice was softer now. "And so can you if you agree with what he said." 
"I don't," he promised. "Please, Molly. I...I missed you yesterday as soon as I dropped you off at your car. I missed you all night. I missed texting with you until one of us fell asleep."
She looked up at him, eyes searching his face. She muttered, "I missed you, too," and then she was heading toward the bleachers. 
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Molly was finding it hard to keep giving Bob the cold shoulder after another day. She was spending a lot of her time with her sister and nephew, sleeping over there and taking Everett out to keep him entertained.
She didn't feel any better after she blew up at Bradley. In fact Molly felt worse, because she sensed that Bradley really was sincere in the way he just wanted to apologize. And he clearly doted on Everett. Maybe he really did just want a chance to apologize, but Molly knew her sister wasn't ready to listen yet.
Her phone went off, and she reached for it while she was making coffee at her place late on Sunday morning. 
Coach Cute Glasses: I miss you, Molly. 
She groaned; the gas station flowers were in the vase right next to her, and she was trying not to look at them. Casey never did anything like give Molly flowers. He'd given her some hickeys and exactly two orgasms. But he also hadn't been friends with anyone who hurt her sister. 
She moaned helplessly. Her body was betraying her. She wanted to spend another night curled up with Bob, all warm and protected. She wanted to feel his even breathing and listen to his soft voice as she fell asleep. "Damn it," she whined, typing out a message to him.
Miss you, too. Any chance I'm still invited to your place? 
Molly was weak for Bob. She knew that already. Just one night with him, and she was constantly daydreaming about him at work. His rough hands. And how sweet he was. And how he wanted to be exclusive with her already. And his big cock. 
Coach Cute Glasses: You are always invited. Please, Molly, anytime. Do you want to spend the night with me? 
Molly snorted as she read the text, but another one was already coming through.  
Coach Cute Glasses: I didn't mean that the way it probably sounded! I'd just love to see you. I would be so happy if you wanted to come by, and even happier if you wanted to stay with me all night. I liked how it felt to wake up in bed with you. 
Molly tucked her phone into the pocket of her scrubs. He could wait it out for a bit. That sort of thing was good for a man. Especially one who was that eager to see you. But by the time she parked at the hospital, she texted him back. 
---------------------------------
Bob was in such a panic. Molly was coming over. And he wasn't sure if she was upset with him or just Bradley. He wasn't sure if she was planning on staying over. 
"I'm sorry," Bradley told him for the hundredth time when he called him. "I'm sorry if I blew it for you."
"I'm going to talk to Molly in a few hours," Bob said, rushing through the parking lot to his truck. He was running around, grocery shopping, trying to distract himself. 
"Can you tell her I miss her sister and Ev?" Bradley asked.
"I'll try," Bob promised as he got into his truck and ended the call.
Molly worked until 8 o'clock. He had a few hours to kill before he'd see her, so he wasn't quite sure why he was rushing. Then he stopped for more gas station flowers and cleaned his already spotless condo. He tried to eat dinner, but he couldn't stomach anything except toast. And when he finally heard her ringing the intercom button, he ran to answer it.
"It's Molly," she said softly, and he quickly let her into the building. He stood with his front door open, and a minute later, there she was. She had changed after work, and she looked stunning. No make-up at all and just some jeans and a crop top, but Bob felt suddenly short of breath. He wanted to run his hand along the flower tattoos on her side, and kiss her there too. 
"Molly," he whispered, fighting the urge to blurt out another I love you. He needed to keep it together right now. "Come in."
She walked past him and looked slowly around his living room and dining room while he closed and locked his door. He didn't have a lot of stuff, and suddenly he felt a little ridiculous that his place was so sparse. 
"Very clean," she muttered, her voice and clothing filling the space with so much color and warmth as she examined the gas station flowers. "I wouldn't know how to keep up with it," she said, turning and smiling softly at him. 
"I missed you," he blurted out, and her smile grew.
"Tell me more," she demanded, turning to fully face him. 
Bob swallowed and took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He was afraid he was going to stutter or say something stupid, but Molly just smiled at him, her all-knowing eyes gentle on his face as she waited.
"I...can't get you out of my mind. I called the runway attendant Molly by accident earlier, because I was thinking about you. Phoenix, my pilot, will never let me live it down."
Molly's laughter had him taking a step closer. "Tell me more," she said, also taking a step toward him. 
"I can't stand the thought of you being upset with me," he said sincerely. He ducked his head and added, "Thursday evening was one of the best nights of my life. Because I spent it with you." He paused, finally daring to meet her eyes.
"Oh, keep going," she said with a nod. "You're doing great."
"I want you to believe I'd never be friends with Bradley if I didn't think he was a good person. And I think he just got a little mixed up. Your sister and nephew really threw him for a loop, you know? But he really loves them."
Molly hummed and shrugged. "I guess I could relay that message to my sister. But I also have a message from me to you."
Bob took a deep breath. "What is it?"
"I missed you, too. I can't stop thinking about you either. And Thursday night and Friday morning, you were so sweet to me, I just want more." Then she kissed his chin and took his hands in hers. "I want you to touch me."
Bob pulled her close as she placed his hands at her waist. He would never get used to being around her, not as easily as she seemed to already know how he operated. She looked up at him, gaze open and earnest. Soft fingers gliding up his arms, tucking into the short sleeves of his tee shirt and gently squeezing his biceps. She placed three soft kisses to the corner of his lips, and he was done. He had to fight the invading thoughts of her nipple piercings and the way her body feels and looks when she's whining for him in her bed beneath him.
"Molly," he begged, but he wasn't sure what he was begging for. 
"Bobby?" she asked softly, pushing one hand through his hair and keeping his gaze focused on her. "I think I need you to fuck me."
"Oh," he groaned, turning her and pushing her back against the wall. He caged her in, and she looked absolutely delighted. 
"If you want to." Her voice was soft and sweet, and her gaze was anything but.
"Honey," Bob managed between ragged breaths as she let her hands come to rest on his abs. She was messing with him. Messing him up completely. She knew exactly what she was doing, but meanwhile, Bob was new to this game. But he was a quick study. A fast learner. 
So when Molly licked her lips and pouted, saying, "You don't want me Bobby? I thought you wanted to be the only one," he was ready for her. 
He wedged one thigh up between her legs, and she gasped. Then his mouth was on hers, rough and demanding. She was grabbing for his shoulders, rubbing herself all over him. He could feel her teeth, digging into his bottom lip, not hard, but definitely not soft. When she released him, she licked his lips until her tongue was in his mouth. 
Bob was rock hard, and try as he may to keep control in this moment, he couldn't. Because Molly was stroking him through his pants and tasting his mouth. Her nose was rubbing along his as she whispered, "Do you want me, Bobby?"
He reached down, wrapping both of his hands around the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms. Then her lips were on his neck and her arms were wrapped around him as he took her to his bedroom. She was on her back on his bed, kicking her shoes off while her little top rode up so Bob could see the soft undersides of her breasts. There was too much to admire here, and he froze up. 
When Molly's hands found the zipper of her jeans, she whispered. "I want you to say it, Bobby. I want you to tell me everything you plan to do to me." And then her hand was slipping inside her underwear, and she was stroking herself as he watched. 
"Mo," his voice was hoarse. He pushed her knees apart and settled between her legs, bending to kiss her wrist before pulling her hand free of her jeans. "I want to put my mouth on you."
The smile that curled along her lips as she started to shimmy out of her jeans and underwear should have made him a little nervous, but he was beyond help. Her bare pussy was right there, and she smelled so good. As soon as her jeans hit his floor, Bob's face was buried in her. 
"Alright, Lieutenant Floyd," she moaned softly. "Okay." And to Bob's delight and dismay, Molly's hands were on her own breasts, pushing her shirt up and playing with her piercings. She tasted so good as he ran his tongue through her wetness and sucked on her clit. But soon he was rutting into the bed, the sight of her fingers on those little barbells spurring him on. 
When Bob slipped his tongue inside her, Molly's back arched off the bed as she started whining for him. "Bobby, I want your big cock." He grunted in response, willing to give her anything in this moment, and shocked by how much he liked her dirty talk. 
He worked the zipper over his painfully hard erection and scrambled to get himself free. And then he was rocking into her at the same time he got his mouth on her nipples. 
"Yes," she hissed softly, head tipped back with a soft giggle on her lips. He was fucking her, and it felt just as perfect as it had a few days previously. Like her whole body was made for him. Like every response from her perfect lips was just what he needed to hear. "So fucking big."
He pushed those little, silver barbells around with his teeth and tongue, tugging a little bit until Molly was gasping his name. When he sucked harder on her nipples, she was screaming for him. And when she came on his cock, holding his face against her breasts and shaking beneath him, Bob could hardly believe he'd been able to make her orgasm again. 
"Molly," he gasped. "I love the way you shake."
"Oh my god," she moaned as he fucked her through her little tremors. But then she was sitting up, kissing his face, and Bob slipped out of her perfect warmth as she moved to kneel on his floor.
"What are you doing?" he whispered as she guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled her shirt over her head, and ran her hands up over his thighs. Bob's pants were pulled down to his knees, and Molly pushed them to his ankles before wrapping her pretty lips around his cock. She settled in between his legs, and Bob could only stare at her and try to memorize the obscene sounds they made together. 
Molly was good at this. She was good at everything. Bob tried to keep up, but her mouth felt too perfect. And then she popped up onto her knees and started running the tip of his cock along those pretty piercings. "Molly!"
"You like that?" she asked coyly, but Bob was hypnotized by the look and feel of the barbells on his erection. With a soft groan, Molly squeezed her perfect breasts together, sandwiching Bob between them. He thrust himself up closer to her mouth, and sure enough, she parted her pretty lips and licked him. Bob continued to do this until he was grunting and Molly's saliva was dripping down her chest, making the sensations even more spectacular for him. 
Slick saliva, wet breasts and Molly's mouth. "Oh!" he grunted, stroking her cheek with his knuckles as she sucked on him. But when she took his tightening balls in her soft hand and gave him a little squeeze, Bob came hard, without any warning. He watched in alarm as his cum spurted all over her lips and cheeks while she giggled. Molly jerked him off until he was gasping for air and wishing he had enough in him to coat her whole body, because it looked that pretty.
She licked her lips and opened her eyes, and Bob watched as his cum dripped down from her eyelashes, along her cheek and landed on her nipple piercing. Molly took his hand in hers and ran his fingers through the mess before guiding his hand up to her lips. She tasted him there and ran her tongue between his long fingers and across his palm. 
"You made the mess," she whispered before sucking on his thumb for a beat. "Now you have to help me clean up."
"Gladly," he promised, nearly rocketing off the bed as she set his hand on her breast. Bob used his wet thumb to collect his cum from her piercing and then he let her take his hand between her lips again. But then he was on the floor with her, pushing her gently onto her back as she laughed. 
"What are you doing?" she asked, but the words died on her lips when Bob licked his own cum off of her chest before kissing her and letting her taste it. He held both of her wrists in his hands above her head, and he was treated to the sights and sounds of Molly. She was rubbing her pussy along his soft length as she licked his cum from his mouth, and Bob just enjoyed making out with her on the floor. Everything tasted like him and smelled like Molly, and he listened to her soft laughter. 
His hands and shirt were a mess of cum, and Molly's pretty face absolutely lit up for him when he whispered, "I like the way I taste on your skin."
"Bobby. You fucking deviant," she moaned, taking his face between her slightly sticky palms and leaning up to kiss his lips. She wrapped one leg around his waist to keep his body against hers, and Bob let his cheek come to rest on her chest. He'd never been called anything close to that before, but he could tell he'd lose himself in the moment with Molly over and over again like this if she'd keep letting him. 
And then he blurted out, "You're not mad at me then?" while she combed her fingers through his hair. 
She hummed in contemplation. "No, I'm not mad at you, Coach Bob. I'm pissed off at Bradley, and I'm trying to protect my family. But I'm not mad at you."
Bob sighed in relief and ran his fingers along her pretty tattoo. He had found it actually painful the way she'd been avoiding talking to him, but he could see where she was coming from. 
"That makes me happy. And I can understand you wanting to protect them. They are where your loyalty lies."
"Don't fuck with my family," she whispered softly as she turned her head, and Bob glanced up at her as she swiped at her eyes. "I hardly have any left."
Bob could sense that she wanted him to change the subject, so he kissed her soft skin and said, "I like your tattoos."
She laughed sardonically and said, "Thanks."
"Did you get the carnation tattoos because it's your favorite flower?" he asked, running his index finger along the colorful ink.
"No," she told him. She was quiet for a moment, and Bob started sweating before she asked, "Did you know that there are different flowers that coordinate with your birth month?" 
Bob had heard of this before. "Sure," he told her, wondering where she was going with this. 
Her voice sounded a little rough, but her fingers were still soft in his hair as she said, "My parents were both born in January. Carnations were their birth flowers. That's why I have the tattoo. And kind of why I love the gas station flowers."
"Oh," Bob said, about to add that she didn't need to talk about it if she didn't want to. But then she rolled a little closer to him as he sat up, and she pointed to the other three flowers mixed in.
"The morning glory is for my sister's birthday. The chrysanthemum is mine. And the pretty red rose is for Everett's birthday in June. I got that one the day after he was born. It's actually my favorite one."
"It's beautiful," Bob told her, running his thumb along the chrysanthemum and meeting her eyes. 
"Listen," she told him, kissing the tip of his nose. "I'm protective of my sister. She took care of me when our parents both died. I moved in with her while she finished college. She shared her bed with me and made sure I ate. She sold my parent's house and gave me most of the money to pay for nursing school and a new, reliable car. And the fact that I can occasionally help her out a little bit now is really important to me. So if you think I need to castrate Bradley, you should probably just tell me now, okay?"
Bob laughed in spite of himself. "Maybe a kick to the nuts, but castration is probably not necessary, Honey. He's beating himself up enough, I can tell you that much. And I honestly think Bradley would jump in front of a moving car for Everett." 
"See, now that's what I like to hear," she told him, sitting up and draping her arms around him. Her skin was a little sticky from his cum, and Bob let her push him back until he was laying on the floor underneath her this time. She settled her chin in his chest and looked up at him. "Now tell me when your birthday is, Lieutenant Cute Glasses. I want to know how your flower would look in my tattoo bouquet."
Bob could feel his cheeks warming up. She wanted to know what a tattoo in his honor would look like on her perfect skin. And now she was just lounging right there on him, naked as the day she was born and just completely flawless. And she was waiting, just like she always did. Waiting until he was ready to say what he was thinking, but never rushing him.
He laughed softly and shook his head. "I have the most embarrassing birthday," he told her, and she cocked her head to the side. 
"Oh," she sighed. "April twentieth?" 
"No," he told her. "Worse. Leap day. February 29th."
"Oh! No, that's such a good one, Bob!" she insisted. "And your flower would be a violet. So pretty!"
But he just kept shaking his head. "Mo, you don't understand, Honey."
"Then explain it to me," she whispered, kissing his chest and stroking his skin. 
"My name is Bob. B O B. Bob. I got the nickname Baby On Board during flight training a decade ago, because I was technically five years old...."
She blinked at him a few times before she burst into laughter. Bob waited while Molly rolled around on the floor, gripping her sides and gasping for air. "And technically how old are you now?" she managed to ask through her laughter.
Bob waited until she calmed down a bit more. "Eight."
"Eight!" she screeched. "Don't say that to me! We've had sex!" Her laughter had Bob chuckling too now. "How old would you be if you had a birthday every year?" she asked, eyes wide as she giggled.
"Thirty two."
"Thirty two! Perfect," she sighed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "I'm not going to get arrested then."
Bob rolled his eyes and whispered, "I think a new flower would look pretty good in your bouquet."
And now Bob was thinking about a violet tattoo on her skin next to the other pretty flowers as Molly curled up on his bedroom floor with her arm wrapped around him. 
---------------------------------
Bob without Molly....it just doesn't make sense. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!
PART 5
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@theamuz
@thedroneranger
@cherrycola27
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feelbokkie · 3 months
Text
Let’s Fall in Love, IRL | Chapter 1
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pairing: Jisung x fem reader
genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, Pen pals to lovers, friend of a friend to lovers
pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)
warnings: swearing, mention of food, humor as a coping mechanism
summary: When she was a child, L/n Y/n was in a horrible accident that left her face disfigured.  After getting bullied relentlessly by her classmates for her appearance, Y/n escaped to the digital world where she meets Felix. Now an adult, Y/n has be come a complete social recluse, only talking to her 4 childhood best friends and roommates and her only friends. When Felix goes AFK one day in the middle of a game, Felix’s roommates decides to step in. Is this the start a new relationship or will Y/n’s crippling social anxiety get in the way?
taglist: CLOSED
word count: 1,254
screenshot count: 14
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©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
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"Hey, Lix, when you're doing fucking around, do you think you could haul ass The Meridian and heal me? If it's not too much of a bother to do your job." You groan as you take more damage. You turn and try to take out the other team's tanks as fast as you can, but you're being flanked by two of their damages. You'd take out their damages too, only you have no idea where they are.
"How did you get all the way on the other side of the map?" He panics.
"I thought you were following me since you're supposed to be pocketing me."
"You fucking ran off without telling me. Do you want me to read your mind?"
"That'd be great." You laugh, "Just get over here. And be careful. The other team's tanks and damages are still around." You keep an eye on your health bar as you keep your back against the wall, not allowing yourself to get ambushed again.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you suck at damage? I just healed you not that long ago."
"Did you not hear me screaming that I was getting ambushed?"
"You're always screaming. I've learned to tune you out."
"Chat, did you hear me screaming for help?" You quickly look over to the monitor where you're stream is. "See? Chat heard me. You're just a shit support."
"Maybe you should be support next game." He mutters.
"Why? Because I'm a girl?" You tease.
"No! Are you trying to get me canceled?"
"Aw, Lixie, you don't need my help with that. Just keep talking and you'll get yourself canceled in no time."
"I hate you,"
"That's not what you were saying earlier. Chat, Felix proposed to me earlier because I sent him food."
"Y/n, shut up!"
Your eyes shift over to the monitor on your left that's displaying Felix's stream. His face is noticeably redder than it was before. His dyed blond hair is in a messy ponytail. His freckles perfectly scattered across his cheekbone and nose. You remember how he used to cover his freckles with makeup when he first started streaming. You don't remember when he stopped, but you're glad he did. It may be hypocritical coming from you, you don't even stream with your camera on. Even if you did, you can't use makeup to fix what's wrong with your face like he can. People aren't going to find you cute or hot because of the scars on your face. For that, you're kind of envious of Felix. What he considers to be flaws are actually blessings while for you, your flaws are just that. Felix gets praised for showing his bare face while you'd be crucified for showing yours in general.
"Y/n!"
Your eyes shift back to the game, just in time to see the bright red "Defeat" pop up on the screen.
"They walked right to you. Are you fucking blind?" You watch as Felix puts his head in his hands.
"Yeah, in one eye, actually. Chat, Felix is an ableist."
"Don't you start. Chat, Y/n is being manipulative."
You laugh, reading all the comments from your chat shipping you and Felix. It used to give you anxiety, all the comments. You'd stay up late at night, stressing about them. You used to think that it was impossible for Felix to have any sort of feelings for you. He's never even seen you. Any time you've ever chatted on call, your camera stayed off. And even if he did, you knew that one look at you and any romantic feeling he had would just, dissipate.
"Pharmercy again?" Felix asks after taking a sip of the coffee you ordered him earlier.
It's more chocolate milk than it is coffee. You know how much he hates the bitter taste so you ordered one loaded with chocolate so he would drink it. It's still healthier than the energy drinks he's been drinking since yesterday.
"Yeah, but only one more match. I'm starting to get tired."
"Imagine being tired."
"You only have an hour left of the marathon."
"Stay up with me? Please? It's only an hour." You turn to Felix's stream just in time to catch him sticking his lower lip out.
"Hm, yeah okay. But you're going to owe me." You sigh, leaning back into your chair.
"I can live with that." You don't have to look at his screen to know that he's smirking right now. You can already tell that the two of you are going to be trending later.
***
The two of you successfully play through 2 rounds with your team. Felix working well as your support while you two sit on the front line. It's the calmest you've been all day. Inuyasha, your service dog, has been hovering around you all day. A few times, he's had to paw at you to warn you of an oncoming attack. But now, despite your yelling, he's calmly resting by your bed.
"Shit," you hear Felix mutter under his breath.
"What?" You ask, looking at his screen. Nothing is going on that should warrant that reaction from him.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Felix says sheepishly.
"Then go,"
"We're in the middle of a match!"
"Love your priorities, Lix."
"I'm trying to think whose home. Oh!" You quickly take out an enemy as you you watch Felix fiddle with his phone.
"What?" You hear an unfamiliar voice whine.
"I need a favor. A really big favor. And quick."
"Aren't you in your room? I thought I heard you screaming."
"I am, just come here quick. I need you to take over for me for 10--20 minutes tops."
"Your stream? No way!"
"Han, I am begging you. I will give you anything you want. Just, please. I'm in the middle of a match and I can't forfeit."
"How much?"
"Name your price later. Just get your ass to my room,"
"Okay, okay,"
A few minutes later you hear Felix's door open. Too focused on the game, you don't look at his screen to see who. You try not to take too much damage while Felix is distracted.
"Hey, you didn't tell me you were playing a game. I'm out,"
"Han, it'll be easy. Y/n will talk you through it. Just--please? I really have to go to the bathroom." Felix pleads.
"Fine,"
"Oh thank god! Chat, Y/n, this is my roommate, Han. He's going to take over for me while I...drop the kids off at the pool." Felix says quickly before he runs off the screen.
"That's disgusting." His roommate mutters.
"Literally could have just said he had to use the bathroom." You whine.
You glance over to Felix's stream to find a brown-haired man you've never seen before in Felix's spot. His features are soft and warm. His eyes are wide, almost as big as his cheeks, as he stares at the screen.
"Hello everyone, I'm Felix's roommate, Han. I'm a musician, not a gamer so bear with me." He says calmly.
"Lix is barely a gamer so your skill level should be about equal." You joke, trying to calm yourself down. If Inuyasha was awake, you know he'd be pawing at your leg to tell you to calm down.
"Fuck that scared me," Han says quietly as his eyes scan the screen.
"Sorry. I'm Y/n, I'm one of Lix's friends." You explain.
"Ah, okay. Nice to meet you Y/n. Please take good care of me."
Buy me a coffee?
Taglist
Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)
@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @phtogravi @lilcutieana @veedoesntknaur @yongbbokkie @brain-empty-only-draken @thisisnotjacinta @thefangirloncrack @chlodavids @heartz4chuu @sunshinessky @reverse-soe @its-hannjisung @angelsandtimelords @zeejones @liknws @marked-unknown @sansona @aaasia111 @jhstayy @aslou @hyunbae-35 @kangaracharacha @skz-streamer @btskzfav @weird-bookworm @jihanniee @everglowdaisies @puppysmileseungmin
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lucy90712 · 3 months
Note
I heard requests so here I am. Bare with me this might not make sense. So readergf! x Jude Bellingham. Readergf! used to have a situationship with pedri until he told her he didn’t want anything serious. Fast forward to the Clasico she’s in the tunnels wishing Jude luck (obvi with a kiss) & before she goes to her seats, Jude yells to her “I love you” which makes Pedri whisper something to Gavi. Later in the game there’s a scuffle between Pedri & Jude bc Gavi tackled him but in his eyes, he’s just being a good friend. This then gets brought down in the tunnels when Jude is just trying to leave the match, gf tells pedri she’s with a real man which makes Jude fall more in love with her. I hate to make pedri & gavi look like this but I love Jude 😩
WC: 2.5k El Classico is always a big event as the rivalry between Real Madrid and Barcelona runs deep and has been going on for many years. Tonight will be my first time going to a Classico which is nerve wracking in itself but it is made so much worse by the choices I've made over the last year or so. Last year I was in a situationship so to say with Pedri, I really liked him and wanted to enter into a proper committed relationship with him but that's not what he wanted. He wasn't ready for a committed relationship and I wasn't willing to wait because as much as it hurt to let him go I couldn't be sure that Pedri would ever be ready or that when he was he'd want to be with me. The 'break up' was hard on me as I really did have feelings for Pedri and thought he could be the one for me but clearly it wasn't meant to be. 
A few months after calling things off with Pedri my friends made me come away with them on a girls trip to Germany. At the time I was really against it but now I can't imagine what my life would be like if I hadn't gone on that trip. While we were there I met a guy at a club we went to he bought me a few drinks and we talked all night. We exchanged phone numbers before we both went home but I thought I'd never hear from him again. To my surprise he actually text me the next day and wanted to take me out before I went home. To start with I was a bit hesitant as after leaving the club my friends told me that I was talking to Jude Bellingham another footballer and I wasn't sure if I was ready to date another one. After some convincing I went on the date and I'm so glad I did Jude was so sweet and he made me change my thoughts on love completely. 
Nearly a year later and Jude and I have been together for 10 months. I've never been happier than I have been in the last 10 months Jude is the best boyfriend and he treats me so well I couldn't ask for anything more. Over the summer Jude moved teams so now he plays for Real Madrid which has been great for our relationship as it has meant that we can be closer to each other as I moved there after my breakup with Pedri. I hadn't thought too much about the consequences of Jude's move until I was reminded about el Classico. Jude knows about my relationship with Pedri so when he asked if I wanted to go to the game he made it clear that if I didn't want to go he wouldn't mind but I know I have to get over everything someday and I want to support Jude so I decided to go. It will be my first time seeing Pedri since everything ended but Jude has reassured me that everything will be fine. 
Jude left for the game with the team early this morning leaving me to find my own way there as I can't go with the team at least not on the way there. Instead of driving the 5 hours from Madrid to Barcelona I am getting the train as it's quicker and a lot cheaper than flying or paying for fuel. On the train I was going to get on with some work or do a bit of reading to pass the time but instead I found myself spending far too much time thinking about the game. I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to see Pedri again after so long and what he might think if he sees me with Jude. I also worried about what might happen on the pitch I know it's usually an intense match and I don't want anything to happen to Jude out there. 
By the time I arrived in Barcelona it wasn't long until the match was due to start so I quickly made my way to the hotel I booked for the night as there are no trains back until the morning. I just about had time to freshen up a bit and change into my Bellingham shirt which Jude gave me especially for this game even though I already own quite a few. There wasn't time for me to do much else so I quickly brushed my hair and left the hotel to make my way to the stadium. It took a bit longer to get there than I'm used to as Barcelona aren't playing at camp nou at the moment but I still made it with a good amount of time until the match. 
As I arrived I text Jude to let him know I arrived safely because he made me promise to do so before he left this morning. Typically just after I made it to my seat he text me back and told me to come and see him before the warm up. I didn't particularly know where I was going but eventually I found my way down the tunnel and to Jude who was waiting for me outside the locker room. As soon as he saw me coming he opened his arms so that he was ready to engulf me in a hug as soon as I was within his reach. Jude hugged me so tightly that my feet came off the floor for a few seconds which I didn't expect but I should've as Jude always gives the best hugs. When he put me down he kept his arms around me while looking down at me with a big smile on his face. 
"Thank you for coming here I know you were nervous but having you here means the world to me" he said 
"You don't don't need to thank me I wanted to be here I'm not going to let the past get in the way of me being here for you" I said 
"I can't believe it's my first proper el Classico" Jude said 
"I know please be careful out there though things can get pretty feisty and I don't want you getting hurt" I warmed him 
"I promise I'll be careful you don't have to worry about me" he said 
"I always worry about you" I said 
"Well don't" he laughed 
Our conversation had to come to an end quite quickly as it was time for warm up but Jude being Jude couldn't leave me without pulling me in for a kiss. He gave me one kiss before I pulled him back in to give him a good luck kiss. Vini came out of the locker room just as we pulled away from each other so Jude told him to wait as he bid me goodbye and slapped my ass as he left which if I could've I would have told him off for. As I turned round to head back to my seat I saw Pedri coming towards me. I felt all of the blood drain from my face as he definitely saw me and Jude together. Even though I said I didn't want the past go get in the way of me coming here that didn't mean I wouldn't be thinking about it and panicking when I saw Pedri. I'm not sure why seeing him made me so anxious but it did it also brought back a lot of memories especially of the heartbreak the man just down the corridor caused me. I was frozen to the spot but as Pedri walked past he smiled at me so I weakly smiled back. 
By the time I made it to my seat I was glad it was just the warm up as I needed a few minutes to gather my thoughts but that's all I had as time seemed to disappear in seconds and before I knew it the match was starting. Barcelona scored early on but apart from that the first half was relatively uneventful there was a few bad tackles here and there but nothing crazy. The second half came around quickly though and about 15 minutes in Jude scored to make it level. Watching him score in el Classico and dedicate his goal to me filled me with an overwhelming sense of pride. I thought nothing could wipe the smile off my face until a few minutes later Gavi tackled Jude and before I knew it he was face to face with Pedri clearly arguing. As much as it could've been about anything instantly I was worried that Pedri had said something or was mad as Jude had dedicated his goal to me. They were pulled apart and the game went on with Jude scoring yet another goal to give Madrid the win in the end. 
While the team were celebrating I stayed in the stands to watch but once they started heading down the tunnel I slowly made my way there so I could meet Jude after he was ready so we could celebrate together. I knew I would be waiting a while so I looked at my phone while I stood there reading all of the tweets about the game and how well Jude played which put a big smile on my face. As I was stood there a lot of people walked back and forth and there was a lot of noise but I drowned it all out until I heard a familiar voice calling my name. Straight away I knew it was Pedri but I was still hoping that when I looked up someone else would be stood there but of course that didn't happen. There he was stood just a few feet in front of me with that smile that reminded me of our early days together when we were both having fun getting to know each other. Somehow being face to face with him wasn't quite as nerve wracking as I thought it would be sure I was a little anxious as to what he was going to say but I didn't feel like the world was going to end. 
"Hey it's been a while how have you been?" He asked 
"I've been good how have you been?" I asked 
"Yeah I've been good what brings you to the match?" He asked getting straight to the point 
"I'm here to support Jude I met him a while back and we've been together for nearly a year now" I said telling him the truth 
"I'm happy for you" he muttered 
"Look I know you have a new boyfriend now but I have to say I'm sorry for how I ended things it wasn't right for me to lead you on for that long and I really regret it you are such an amazing girl and I regret letting you go the way I did" he admitted 
"It's ok it hurt at the time but I'm over it now you did what was best for you and that's ok" I said 
"Does Jude make you happy?" He asked 
"He does he's really sweet and supportive and we're always on the same page overall we have a really healthy relationship" I said 
"I'm glad you're happy but I'm sorry I couldn't be the one to make you feel that way" he said 
"We just weren't meant to be you'll find your person one day Pedri and you can be just as happy as I am and you deserve it too" I said 
He unexpectedly gave me a hug before leaving probably to head home. For a few seconds I was drowning in my own thoughts which had clearly all be pushed to the back of my mind during my conversation with Pedri. Once I had my thoughts under control I felt so much better it was as if talking to him finally gave me a sense of closure. We were able to talk about what happened without emotions clouding our judgement or trying to be petty to get back at each other it was just a normal adult conversation. It was nice to hear him apologise and acknowledge that he didn't go about things in the best way as it sort of validated my feelings at the time. As much as Pedri caused me pain I don't hate him he's still a lovely person so as much as we weren't meant to be that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve a healthy relationship and I hope he knows that after our conversation. 
Just a few minutes later Jude finally came out of the locker room of course with a big smile on his face. I always love seeing him all happy after a win just his smile always brightens my day which I thought I'd need today but I'm actually ok. Jude hugged me and gave me a quick kiss before rambling on about the game like I wasn't sat watching it which he always does but I find it endearing. As he talked he kept remembering more things he wanted to tell me so we spent a good while stood in the corridor outside the locker rooms talking, well he was talking at me. Eventually he stopped talking but not before he told me he was allowed to stay the night here with me instead of going back so we got to head to my hotel together. Once we were in a taxi to the hotel Jude finally allowed me to get a word into the conversation. 
"Did you enjoy the game?" He asked 
"Yeah it was great you played so well I'm so proud of you" I said 
"I'm sorry I made you wait so long we were all celebrating and I just couldn't leave nothing happened while I was gone did it?" He asked 
"I did see Pedri we had a good conversation actually he apologised for treating me the way he did and I told him I'm happy with you now which he seemed to accept it felt good to talk to him I feel like that part of my life is completely over now" I said 
"That's good I'm glad you got closure on that chapter of your life" he said 
"I have to ask though what were you arguing about on the pitch?" I questioned 
"Oh it was nothing he was standing up for Gavi saying there was nothing wrong with his challenge but I disagreed nothing major I had a quick word with him after the game and all is good" he explained 
"Good I'm glad everyone can all get along now" I said 
By the time we made it to the hotel both of us were exhausted so we got straight into bed and went to sleep. I was actually able to get off to sleep really easily as unlike the last few days my mind was at rest there was no more anxiety or worry everything finally feels perfect. 
214 notes · View notes
coryosmin · 2 months
Note
Ok we all agree that sejanus has a massive praise kink
But! I feel like once in a blue moon when he'd get really frustrated/pissed off/annoyed/whatever he would 100% get it out by absolutely ruining you, acting seemingly careless, rougher, making you slightly doubt you're actually able to take it but way to into it to ask it to stop of slow down because it's just so good
he's marking you everywhere, hickeys, hand prints on your ass, bite marks but the pain just add to the overwhelming pleasure he's making you feel, he'd trade his usual praise with more condescending and taunting phrases that you can barely answer to bc you're not even able to form words anymore, he turned you into his little brainless slut, to lost in the pleasure to even use her words right?
and finally when he made you cum so many times you lost count, let himself cum wherever he seem fit, almost instantly you get your usual Sej back, he's an apologizing mess now that he realize how rough he handle you, he'd lightly kiss every single mark he put on your body, whispering how perfect you were for him, like usual, because you're his good girl
And I'm bad at describing stuff but he'd just give the BEST aftercare
mdni | nsfw
no definitely. just imagine he’s like so pissed off over something that happened at the academy or something. and when he goes over to your place after classes end and you’re both in your bedroom, he just starts kissing you so aggressively. and you’re like woah this is new but you don’t hate it. so you kiss him back with just as much passion and eventually, it leads to you being pressed up against your desk, getting pounded by sejanus’ cock. and he’s just going at it.
he isn’t caring and loving like he usually is. sejanus has a hand on your neck, not pressing hard but definitely there for support. he’s railing into you with aggression. and his gaze is hardened as he fucks into you with force. and you? well you’re quite literally a moaning whore.
“you like that, huh?” sejanus says, breathing harshly as he continued his thrusts. “being such a whore for me. taking what i give you.”
and you wouldn’t reply, your cunt squeezing his cock so well. but you nod your head, letting out a high pitch moan as he thrusts himself deeper into you.
“god you’re such a fucking slut.” he says, biting marks on to your neck. and you took it all like a good girl. because even if he was being so harsh, you’d always be his good girl.
he would definitely make you cum numerous times before you guys started having sex. so when you felt your orgasm approaching as he fucked you, you arched your back and moaned so loudly into his ear. “cumming again for me, baby?” he would grunt into your ear, nipping at your ear lobe. “cum like the whore you are.”
and boy did you cum. you came so hard that you actually squirted on his cock. and it immediately made him cum as well, shooting ropes of cum inside of you.
and when you both came down from your highs, he would then look at you with the softest and apologetic eyes. “I’m so sorry for being so harsh, baby. i had a bit of a rough day.” sejanus would then kiss your lips before pulling out of you, holding you up against your desk still.
you would smile tiredly at him. “it’s okay, sej. i liked it.”
“i’m glad you did, princess. you’re so good for me.” and he would then spend the next while just kissing you, eventually moving to your bed to lay down and cuddle with you. he would give you small praises, talk about your day, then talk about his in a calm manner. he would be the KING of aftercare because once you both were feeling good after everything, he would make snacks. and you NEVER deny sejanus plinth’s snacks, oKAY
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