#like literally if it’s too mushy then don’t read it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

penvisions · 1 month

Text

there's a place and time {joel miller x reader}

Pairing: Younger / No-outbreak! Joel Miller x Neighbor! Reader

Summary: Moving back to your parents house wasn't part of the plan, neither was being a thorn in your neighbor's side. but you roll with the punches, and hey, he's kinda cute when he gets huffy.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: age gap (joel is mid 30's / reader is mid 20's), angst, biting words, argumentative language, joel is a lil meanie but so is reader, grief, off-screen loss, depictions of depression, comfort, mushy stuff

A/N: this literally came out of nowhere, a random thought on the way to work and then a manic two hours of writing once i got home. this turned out a little different than first imagined, but i hope it reads well!

navigation || joel miller masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Why don’t you date?”

“Excuse me?” The form crouched in between kitchen counters looked up at you with a raised brow, surely mishearing the question.

“Dating, I know you know what that is.” You repeat yourself as you push your arms back to brace on the counter and hop up on it. The granite of it is cold on your bare thighs, the shorts you were wearing thrown on haphazardly when a panic stricken pair of teenagers had begun to bang on your door in the early afternoon. The words of ‘fire’ and “help!” spurring you into action where you had been napping on your couch. Now though, the oven was off, the blackened frozen pizza still on the rack and covered in foam from the fire extinguisher neither of them had known how to use. Their father had sent them upstairs, thanking you for helping them out and getting it taken care of. “Or the concept at least, yeah?”

“Don’t mean it’s any of your business, little lady.” Joel’s voice leaves no room for further conversation as he realizes you’re more serious than need be. Little quips between you two common, the unspoken understanding of not discussing the reason for your presence in the neighborhood mutual.

“I dunno, I remember you being real keen on the idea of me babysitting.” You take a sip of your soda, swiped from the fridge after everything had calmed down. “Would do you a favor now, should you need the night off for some…fun.”

“Dating and fun are two different things.”

“Dating can be fun, if you do it with the right person.”

“Yeah, and what do you know about that? Saw you move in all by your lonesome. No big, burly man helping you with your boxes.”

The fizzy drink sours on your tongue and you toss him a scowl as he stands. He’s a few feet away but you can feel the warmth of him as he stands at his full height. He’s reaching to close the oven door, the creak of metal on metal loud in the beat of silence.

“You wouldn’t know fun if it bit you on your perky ass, Miller.”

“Language, you’re in my house.” His brow furrows and he pins you with a stern look. Something you’d seen him give to his brother, his girls, the neighbor across the way when she wouldn’t take the hint that he didn’t want her dog shit in his yard.

“Old men like yourself deserve to have some fun every once in a while. They deserve happiness too.”

“Even if I did, it’s no concern of yours. Your daddy didn’t help pay for two degrees for you to end up babysitting for grocery money.”

The rebuttal on the tip of your tongue suddenly dissolved as you felt a shiver run down your spine. He’s right, you know he’s right. But you just…you couldn’t even open the envelope with the certificates let alone add them to your resume and begin the arduous task of job hunting.

“Fuck you, I was only offering to help out a neighbor.” The words are rough, rounded out with the weight of too many emotions. You shove off from the counter, abandoning your half-finished drink. A delicacy you enjoyed only over at his house, too expensive for you to indulge in as bills you never anticipated paying became your responsibility.

“I didn’t mean-“ He had the self-awareness to realize he said the wrong thing. His hands coming up from his waist to reach out for you, but you don’t look over your shoulder as you make your way through the kitchen.

“Don’t come to me if you do need someone to look after the girls. I wouldn’t take your money anyway.”

“C’mon now,” His full lips shape around your name, but you’re already out the door. Resisting the urge to let it slam shut behind you, your anger still so sharp and hot. But the girls didn’t deserve to feel it, even the echo of it in the slamming of a door. Despite being a dick, Joel was a good father to them. He’d made his home a nurturing and loving environment. You didn’t want to taint it with your stained hands.

As he stands there in his empty kitchen, the smell of burnt dough, smoke, and ammonia dizzies him as he watches you cross over his yard to yours next door. The blank expression on your face and the faint smears of dried pant all over your legs makes him regret his fast words. He had been going for teasing, but of course they had come out harsh and wounding.

You were someone he didn’t know how to interact with. So sweet and polite with the girls, with the neighbors. But you were a firecracker with him. Teasing, whipping words that rung around his head, and he recalled far too often. The little smirk that pulled at your lips as you said them, waited for his response or sputtering lack of one. His own pulled from him, making him feel like a teenager again, like a young man you hadn’t been suddenly left alone to raise a child. Like his old self, someone who stood a chance with you as you gave him your attention time and time again.

He had only ever met you through the words of your parents, the people who had once occupied the house beside his own. He had moved in with two six-year-olds just as you had shoved off to college upstate. The running joke was that it was perfect timing for him to have missed out on the perfect babysitter.

Graduation is supposed to be a time of celebration and proud smiles, at least that’s what everyone else got. The day you had counted down on the calendar and crossed off the passing ones as it neared was now a blur of too bright colors and phone calls with people telling you things you didn’t want to think about, let alone hear as your new reality.

A car accident, on the drive upstate. Both parents, reckless driver.

A house that had been recently paid off, left to you. Your name already on the deed, something you didn’t want to think about too hard. Close, you had been close with each of them and them as a unit. A small family but understanding. It was yours, the backdrop to your life and suddenly the two people were only memories.

The move had been quick, the apartment you shared with fellow graduate students mostly books and a beautiful desk. The bedframe taken apart to go while the shelves had been left for the next occupants.

You hadn’t shared the news with any of your roommates or friends, not wanting to taint their own celebrations and happy memories of the day you all worked so hard for. Addresses were exchanged, well wishes were meant, but of course it all faded as time had gone on. Their news of job offers and exciting dates had been good to hear, but with no good things to respond with of your own, it was hard to feel the same way about them as you once had. They reached out, worry coloring their words, which made you feel even worse.

It haunts you for days, as you seal yourself into the home that is now yours alone. The paint slathered on canvas dries and the brushes coated in it turn into hardened caps over the bristles. You’re allowing things to sit for too long, the water evaporating in the cups you use to rinse between swatches of color. The open paint tubes oxidizing and becoming unsalvageable. But you have no control.

The bed becomes damp with nights of sweat, from your tossing and turning body as the heat rises and the air conditioning that needs to be repaired is just another phone call. You don’t even think you know where your phone is. It can’t bear bad news if you don’t answer it. It can’t carry the end of your world if you don’t let it.

There’s a sharp knock on the door at some point, in the midst of the haze of days after storming out of Joel’s kitchen. You hadn’t been able to dissect the sounds of life going on outside your closed windows.

But it had, to the point where now someone was calling on you to make you return to it.

Shrugging on a robe, you hold it tight to your aching body as you push up from the bed. Bare feet sticking to the hardwood floor as the heat fills the home.

“What?” You can’t help but bark as you swing the door open, only to find a concerned Joel on the porch, with your phone in his hand.

“I found this in the kitchen, must’ve fallen off the counter in the madness of getting the fire out and callin’ me.” He holds it out to you, but you don’t move to take it. “Figured you needed it, there’s a lot of missed calls and voicemails. I may have left a few too, to check on ya. Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Been here, painting.”

“Okay, that’s…that’s good. Got everything you need? Food, water, someone comin’ to fix the A/C?” It’s an apology in the only way Joel Miller is capable of giving, the need to make sure someone is getting what they need, that they’re taken care of. He’s a good provider, to his girls, to his brother, to the neighborhood when he’s not beat down from long days in the sun with concrete and paint dried to his skin, with wood shavings and stain splotched on his jeans.

“No.”

“No?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m my own person.”

Your name leaves his mouth on a sigh.

“I know that, but your parents…I know that kinda thing is-“

“I’m fine. Thanks for returning this.” You snatch it from his hand and go to close to door, not willing to hear what he has to say on the loss of your parents. For his credit, he let’s you. Knowing that you’re going through the motions, through the event in your own way. It doesn’t stop him from speaking loud enough for you to hear him through the door.

“The girls will be by with dinner later! Try to be nice to them, they ain’t me!”

The meal delivered by two smiling teenagers does lift your spirits a bit, even if all you do is shower and do a few loads of laundry. It’s a long process, the climb out of the hole that you had found yourself in.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months. You’re back to quipping across the yard with the man. His daughters delighting in the comraderies that underlies it all. It’s the height of summer now, the girls spending time with you to try their hand at painting. Sarah is better with bursts of color that compliment each other, vaguely floral. While Ellie is better with a muted palette imposed between detailed line art.

They always thank you for the time and attention, offering to help you clean up or tidy the house in exchange for watching over them when you notice Joel’s truck is still gone from their own driveway until late. They aren’t helpless, but you know what loneliness feels like and you don’t want them to become familiar with it.

You finally open the envelope containing your degrees, the last letters from your friends and pen down long responses. The stamps cute as you drop them off at the post office, the ornate certificates framed and hung above the desk in your father’s old office alongside his own.

Joel joins them most days, mid meal if he can make it in time. Food finding it’s way into your kitchen, something you’re sure is the combined effort of two pairs of small hands and one pair of big hands. The least you could do is turn it into something for everyone involved to enjoy.

But just as things seem to progress, they fall back apart. It wasn’t over a throwaway comment this time, though, but a piece of mail delivered from a local gallery asking after your willingness to partake in an exhibit. That they expressed their deepest condolences in this trying time.

The paint dries up again, another set of brushes left to ruin. The door goes unanswered, as does the phone you can hardly stand to look at. The lights don’t glow in the windows once the sun sets, no music is heard from behind thin screens, nor the sound of you humming along to it.

The house becomes a burden once again, shielding you from the world you as you feel the loss of your parents all over again.

You don’t hear the door open from where you’re sprawled on the floor of the bathroom, the shower is running but you didn’t make it under the spray. You’re fully clothed, having reached down underneath the vanity for a bottle of shampoo when your fingers had brushed over something else. A bottle of your mother’s favorite perfume. The one that lingered in every room she occupied, on every piece of clothing she adorned. It was her, the perfect encapsulation of who she was.

And it was staring at you inconspicuously from the shelf. The mere sight of it tearing the wound open once again and making it hard to breath.

That’s where Joel finds you. In tears over something as trivial as a tiny glass bottle. But he doesn’t bat an eye, he’s taking in the scene and shutting off the shower in a few easy steps.

“Hey now, come ‘ere, darlin’,” He’s crouching down beside you, hands reaching for your shaking body.

He’s so gentle, so soft as he pulls you up from the tiled floor and into his chest. Leaning back against rhe now closed vanity to support your weight. One hand on the back of your head, holding it to his chest, pleading with you to match his breathing so you don’t hurt yourself.

“Datin’ is hard, you’re right.” His words make you pause, confusion crowding out the wetness lingering in your eyes. The words from a conversation long ago pulling you out of your breakdown, the casual way he continues it.

“It is.” You insist, voice small and muffled as you refuse to pull your face from where it’s pressed against the warmth of his chest.

“Maybe…. maybe you’d be kind enough to try it with this grumpy old man. I’d sure like to give it a shot with someone like you.”

“I ain’t nothin’ special. Just the neighbor girl your dead friends talked about too much.”

“They loved you, darlin’. With everythin’ they had.” He holds tight to the hand you move underneath one of his. Seeking him out, to feel his skin on your own. “You are special, those paintings they showed me, you got a gift, honey.”

“Gifts don’t mean nothin’ when you got no one to share them with.”

“You share ‘em with the girls, they loved coming over here to spend time with you. Share ‘em with me, if you want. The girls and I are in your corner, we got you.”

“You don’t…you don’t want to date me. Every boy-“

“Boys don’t know how to date, that’s only something us old men know how to do. Will you let me show you, how it feels to be taken care of and looked after? To feel appreciated and like you aren’t a hindrance on nightly plans to play fuckin’ video games?”

“I like video games,” You sniffle, voice gaining strength as the conversation goes on. He’s soothing you, even as he just sits on the floor with you in his lap, his arms around you and your body pressed up against him. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in months. And it’s just Joel being Joel, it’s just you being you.

“Show me, if you want. Let me get to know you, let me show you what it’s like to be loved, not just sought after for a night of fun.”

“I don’t date old men.”

“No?”

“You’re not that much older than me, so I wouldn’t really call you old.”

“Cause then you’d have to admit you’re old too, huh?” He reads the meaning behind the change of thought, as if he was in your head right there alongside you.

“Yeah, we ain’t old. Life just beat us down, but damn if it didn’t touch your perky ass.” You reach a hand down from where it’s cradled between your chests, to pinch at where his backside it firmly planted on the floor. He jolts a bit, not expecting the action. But his rumbling laugh lightens the air around you both even more so.

“You goin’ soft on me, a compliment like that is makin’ my heart pick up. Can you feel it?”

“Yeah, cause you’re a big ole sap.” You can’t help the breathy chuckle that escapes past your lips, the twitch of a smile trying to break out. You can, indeed, feel the way his heart is thudding in his chest. The truth of your words and his making you feel some of the weight lift from your own.

“You ain’t gotta clue how sappy I could me, lemme show you, huh?”

“Only if you promise it’ll make me roll my eyes and groan.” You lean back enough to see his face, the roll of your eyes up to take in his hopeful expression allowing you to know how much he means it. Your own heartbeat picks up and you swear he can feel it too, if the crook of his lips underneath his mustache is any indication.

“Only if you promise to have a smile on your face while you do it.” He leans in, nose brushing against yours. The action so soft, so welcome after the isolation you had subjected yourself to.

“Deal.” You breathe out against his lips.

“It’s a deal then.” He presses them to yours, and damn it all, but it does bring a smile to your face.

taglist: @sawymredfox @tuquoquebrute @littlemisspascal @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker

@joelsgreys @tonysopranosrobe @morallyinept

452 notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 3 months

Text

Choices

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say

notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing i’ve ever written. the ending? meh. i don’t hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings 😭. i also lowkey don’t like the title, but literally couldn’t think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself

request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her

[6.7k]

“Are you sure I don’t need to dress up tonight? I know you said they’re just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,” you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

You’re wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.

Since meeting Jack’s family last year, you’ve been his plus one to every single trip he’s made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jack’s family for New Year’s activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jack’s.

This year, you’re celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.

You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.

One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.

You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was “foolishly and wholly in love with you.” You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.

That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.

“I promise, you don’t have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,” he calls out from the bathroom where he’s ‘fixing’ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. “I mean, mom might not be too happy if you’re sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but I’d sure enjoy the show.”

You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.

“I’m being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. They’re really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one another’s houses for dinner and fire talks,” you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadn’t seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.

Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jack’s age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and she’s a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.

You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jack’s childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you haven’t known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but you’re always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.

Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be “TP man” for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dad’s feet.

You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that weren’t his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldn’t figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.

You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm he’s been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.

“And I��m being serious, Sunshine, what you’re wearing is fine and won’t change the fact that they’re going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,” Jack walks over to stand in front of you.

You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.

“I just…I care about how the people that know you view me. It’s important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that I’m just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,” you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jack’s lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.

The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows you’re not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows you’re not with him for his money or fame.

He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldn’t change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, he’s still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting “sounds like you have a few fans out there.”

Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. It’s part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry they’ll think you’re not right for Jack, or that you’re only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.

Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.

“I promise you, no one here thinks that,” he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. “There is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no one’s opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think you’re with me for the wrong reasons?” He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.

You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.

“Hey, look at me,” he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. “Then absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, we’re the only two in this relationship, so that’s the only two people I’ll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?”

You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.

You’re still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.

Jack’s eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.

“On that note, let’s go get you something to eat,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.

Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour.

After he was satisfied that you weren’t going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.

The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.

Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a ‘looks lazy but really took an hour’ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.

Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.

As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.

“Oh! There they are! Aren’t they just dolls? Look at them!” she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.

You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jack’s mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her son’s.

“Mom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,” Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.

“Don’t be a grump, Jack. She’s telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you don’t love being told you look pretty,” you scold.

Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.

“See, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I don’t have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,” Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.

You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.

“Y/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,” Ellen breaks up yours and Jack’s moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,” you say, removing your hand from Jack’s so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.

“Oh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,” she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.

“Okay, Deb is it,” you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.

“C’mere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,” she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. “My, you’ve grown up, haven’t you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.”

Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.

He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but you’ve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.

“Just enjoy playing the game, is all,” he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.

“Ron, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!” Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.

“Jack, how are ya, boy?” Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a ‘guy’ hug, each having one arm slug over the other’s shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.

“Getting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldn’t wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,” Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.

“Oh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, I’m Ron,” Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.

“Hi, Jack’s told me a lot about you two. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lawson” you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.

“Oh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, I’m just Ron, dear,” he mirrors his wife’s earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.

You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.

“Not to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?” you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.

“Oh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,” Deb explains, looking over to Jack. “She’s so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.”

You sense a slight rigidness in Jack’s body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple “Yeah, that’s a shame,” not offering any other words about the mystery girl.

You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadn’t mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didn’t know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didn’t have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.

As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the house’s yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.

“See, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!” you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.

“Not fair, you didn’t tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,” you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.

As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.

She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think you’d ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.

“Hey, everyone. Hope we didn’t miss dinner,” she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.

“Oh, not even close, honey. You’re just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,” Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.

She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until she’s stood right in front of Jack.

“Oh, Jacky! I’ve missed you so much! It’s been so long!” she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.

He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.

“Well, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasn’t it Jacky,” she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.

The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.

“Uhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,” Jack says, squeezing you to his side.

“Oh! You’re the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!” she coos, placing her hand on her chest. “Jack, she’s so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainer’s number,” she asks, looking around at everyone.

You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“Not in the picture anymore. Didn’t really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly player’s throat when she came to visit me during an away game,” Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.

“What a shame. I liked her,” Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. “But, I’m sure you’re great too!” she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering “ex-girlfriend” in your ear, suddenly making Jack’s body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.

“Okay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,” Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.

“Oh great, I’m absolutely starving,” Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jack’s grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughter’s fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. “She’s something else, isn’t she? Such a little firecracker,” she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.

“Yeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,” Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.

Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.

The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.

“Jack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I can’t get enough of it,” you ask your boyfriend who’s sitting to your right.

He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. “That good? Or you want more?”

“No, that’s good. Gotta save room for dessert,” you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.

Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m so full,” you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. “I wish I could be like you, Y/N, I’d love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, I’m already so bloated as it is,” she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. “You’re so lucky you’ve already snagged a man and don’t have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.”

You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.

You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughter’s words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Luke’s mouth is dropped open.

Jack’s hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.

You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’d kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know you’re loved, no matter what you look like,” she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.

You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Luke coughs, a faint “bitch” heard by your ears.

“Okay, I think it’s time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,” Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.

“Great idea, let me help you,” Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughter’s words, starts to stand.

“No, I got it,” Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyone’s plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.

You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.

“Here, let me help, too,” Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.

The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.

You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent “You okay?”, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.

You look up again, straight at Sarah’s parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughter’s malicious words.

You meet Ellen’s eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her it’s alright.

Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion they’re unaware of the shift in atmosphere.

“Ellen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. It’s been too long since I’ve had a slice,” he speaks, unable to read the room.

Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go help Jack,” you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting “your daughter’s a bitch!” in their face your cue to leave the table.

You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.

You walk through the house, calling out Jack’s name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.

“Jack, I don’t get it. What does she have that I don’t? What about her makes her any better than me?” you hear the sound of Sarah’s voice coming from the foyer.

“What the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you don’t!” you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.

Were they talking about you?

“Jack, we were good together! We had fun. I don’t understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!” it was Sarah’s turn to raise her voice.

Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. “What part of I didn’t want to don’t you understand?” Jack spits out. “You had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.”

You can practically see the veins popping out on Jack’s forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.

“All you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didn’t care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!” he shouts again. “The fact you just admitted you cared more about being the “it” couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.”

“Well, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,” Sarah says, scoffing.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jack huffs out. “Y/N doesn’t care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not ‘Jack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pick’,” he puts on his announcer voice.

“All my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,” Your heart breaks at Jack’s voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.

“Hell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,” he continues. “With Y/N, that’s far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friend’s brother,” he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.

“Her favorite fun fact to tell people about me isn’t a stat, or how many hat tricks I’ve scored,” he keeps going. “It’s that I love to sing Shakira when I’m in the shower. Or that I’m the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,” Jack lightly laughs.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay-“ you hear Quinn’s voice rounding the corner.

Cutting him off with a “shhh” you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.

“So, yeah, I would say I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of me, but I’m not. I’m not sorry that I broke things off with you. I’m not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And I’m not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,” Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.

“I am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldn’t have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didn’t take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid what’s happening right now. I am sorry that you can’t begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,” He finishes.

“You know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. You’re really going to propose to her?” Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.

“Of course it’s true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that she’s the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,” you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.

Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.

Before you know what you’re doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.

“Y/N, no, wait,” Quinn tries to stop you, but it’s too late.

“You bought me a ring?” you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.

“Oh, great, the woman of the hour,” Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.

You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.

You turn your head to Jack, who’s face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinn’s.

“Jack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?” you ask him, begging him to answer you.

Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.

“Right…” is all you can say, trying to digest what’s happening.

You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.

“Listen, I don’t care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I don’t appreciate you coming to his family’s house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and I’m the one getting the ring,” you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .”

You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jack’s face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.

“God, you don’t have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. You’re not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I don’t need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,” Sarah says before she storms out of the room.

You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.

“That was…the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.

You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him

“For not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlier” you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,” he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.

“Yeah, well a lot of good that did,” you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.

“God, woman, stop hitting me!” Jack yelps again. “What the hell was that one for?”

“For buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,” he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.

“Still. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didn’t want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?” you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

“I knew that you were it from the moment I met you. There’s absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,” Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. “Also, you do snore, and I think it’s cute, don’t worry.”

You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.

“So, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,” Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.

“Luke, you’re such an idiot,” Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.

“What? It’s true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,” Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. “Why do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?”

“Thanks, Luke,” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Well, I guess it’s time to tell mom that she knows you’re proposing,” Quinn says, looking towards Jack.

“Oh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and I’m not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,” Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.

“Do I at least get to see the ring?” you ask him, hopeful.

“Nope,” Jack shakes his head, popping the ‘p’.

You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.

“Wait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean it’s here? In this house?” Jack’s face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.

“No…”

Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.

He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.

“Not fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,” you pout again.

As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.

Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.

And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jack’s room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.

863 notes · View notes

artists-ally · 5 months

Note

Hello sweetheart 😘 I really really adore your writing so much ! So, I dare to send in an idea as well 🥰 maybe you're dating Harvey but he barely had time for you lately, so one time he wants to surprise you with dinner at his apartment and you enjoy your time together. Then you both end your evening with lovely passionate smut and lots of cuddles afterwards. In the morning he wakes up before you and takes time in admiring you, realizing how happy he is to have you ? Hope that's not too cheesy ❤️ thank you so much in advance!

{Warm} Reader x Harvey Specter

This has been sitting in my inbox for god knows how long. I thank you for your patience my dear. I love this idea so much, and this song Warm by SG Lewis is just perfect. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. P.S. nothing is EVER too cheesy for me to write <3

Word Count: 3,998

Warnings: Just some good ole fluff and smut, some very soft dom!Harvey.

Tagging: @rosedpetal @blacktreacle22

Summary: After a particularly brutal month in the office, you've noticed some changes. Harvey is just... not present. Rather than demanding his attention, you just simply float by, knowing eventually he'll return his negligence. And boy does he ever.

~~~~~

“Yn, you really just need to grow a set and tell Harvey he’s being a jackass,” Donna scolds through the phone.

I roll my eyes, “Donna, I told you before. I don’t mind. He’s focused on winning this case, and it quite literally is the life and death of this firm. So, while I appreciate your ‘words of affirmation’, I didn’t ask for them.”

“I know, I just hate to see you so neglected.”

“Oh please,” I pff, flipping my head to move a chunk of hair out of my eye. “Neglected is probably the last thing I am. I can entertain myself. I actually haven’t minded the space. Every once and a while it’s good to go back to the basics. I’ve finally learned how to take care of the plants, I can make a mean lasagna too. I’ve even gotten back into reading. For fun.”

“Sheesh, clearly something is wrong if you’ve been reading voluntarily.”

I snickered. “I don’t know, I saw a book recommendation on instagram and fell in love. Childhood penpals turned strangers, turned back to penpals and she found out he’s the world's biggest rock star and he’s been writing songs about her the entire time.”

“Sounds exactly like the fairytale mushy-gushy shit you love. How you found Harvey to fill those shoes I’ll never understand.”

“He’s just… I don’t know, exactly what I need? My life is perpetually disorganized and he’s too organized. We balance each other out. It just works, and I love our life. I love our dynamic, and I love him. Since he’s so busy, and I have the energy and mental space to, I don’t mind picking up the slack. Again, things will balance themselves back.”

Donna sighed, and I knew that flat line was on her lips. “I know, you’re always so insightful. Optimistic bitch.” I cackled a laugh. “But in all seriousness, Harvey needs you. You’re right, he is too organized. He needs you to unwind him. I know how he is, and he needs a kick in the ass every once in a while. So, if by the end of the week, he doesn’t come around a little, just push him. He’ll fold. Especially for you, and that ass of yours.”

A smile bloomed onto my face, the door of our apartment building coming into view. “Thanks Donna, I’ll let you know how tonight goes. Maybe I’ll stop by the office in the morning and bring the crew some coffee, a few bagels as well.”

“This is why you will always remain my favorite. Now go eat that Chinese food, you sexy son of a bitch.”

“How did you know I had Chinese food?”

“Because I’m Donna.” Then the line went dead.

Psycho. My psycho, but still a psycho.

I did indeed have a takeout bag hooked in my elbow filled with Chinese food. Sesame chicken and wonton soup for me, beef and broccoli with pork lo-mein for Harvey. I got a small order of pork fried rice and some scallion pancakes to share. I was about ten seconds away from crouching in an alley and eating myself into a coma.

The city streets were just beginning to fill up with Friday night festivities. Those heading to lavish dinners or exotic clubs, dressed to the nines with pristine hair and outfits. I looked down at my beat up orthopedic sneakers that kept the never ending foot pain of being a museum tour guide at bay. Here I was, surrounded by the most eccentric and busy place on earth, with absolutely nothing to do.

And that felt amazing.

I scurried up the steps to the apartment building, greeting our doorsman with a smile and a wave. He gave me one back, pulling open the big glass doors. The mild April chill vanished and the comfortable, still air caressed my cheeks. The elevator door chimed open, chimed closed, and ascended to the top.

21… 22… 23… the floors climbed and climbed. What was I going to watch? The new season of Bridgerton was out, I could watch that. No, the next season can’t possibly be as good as Charlottes. Maybe a movie? Didn’t that second Dunne one come out? I’m not sure I understand the first one enough to comprehend the second.

The ding sounds, and I step off, juggling my keys as I rattle off more ideas in my head.

There's always The Big Bang Theory, maybe Two Broke Girls? Nah, I’ve seen those a thousand times. Maybe I should watch something new. No, nothing sounds interesting. I could try to read, but I don’t wanna risk spilling anything on my book. Once in third grade, I was eating a bowl of cereal in the morning, and I spilled the entire thing on my book. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie was never the same again.

When the door opened, I toed off my sneakers, kicking them in the corner. I threw the keys in the bowl and hummed a song aimlessly. In the kitchen, I pried a plate out of the cabinet and began to spoon food onto my plate. I won’t tell Harvey, but I stole some of his lo-mein.

“Yn,” a voice spoke.

I spun so hard I knocked my hip into the kitchen island corner, a scream bubbling out. “Jesus fucking christ Harvey! You could warn me next time, fucking hell.”

My heart thrashed in my chest, my eyes going a little wonky from adrenaline. I swallowed, bending at the waist to catch my breath.

“Sorry, my love,” he smiled, coming to raise me from my hunched over position. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“A simple text would’ve been lovely,” I sighed, rising to my full height. “What the hell are you doing…”

All words died on my tongue as I looked around. The table was decorated with a white cloth, candles skewed about. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, beside it a card with two small boxes. There was champagne chilling in a metal bucket of ice, a box of chocolate covered strawberries and cherries next to it.

“Harvey, what’s all this for? Our anniversary isn’t for two months.”

He grinned, that smirk going right to my chest. “No, it’s not.”

“Then what's all… this?” I waved my hand around, noticing a few balloons blown up and taped to the archway. I somehow completely missed the rose petals lining the floor.

“It’s because I love you,” Harvey grabbed my hips, pressing our fronts together. “You’ve been… dealing with me for weeks now. My absence, my constant mood swings and lashing out. And I know what you’re gonna say-”

“That I know you’ve been stressed and need some time to focus on the case?”

Harvey tilted his head, a flat expression on his lips. “Yes. That.”

“It’s not a big deal, Harvey. I know how important work is to you, and I know that you’ve really needed to focus so the firm doesn’t crumble and-”

“But I need you to know that you are a thousand times more important than work,” he says, placing his palms on my cheeks. He kisses me softly, stealing the air from my lungs. “Then the firm,” another kiss. “And anything that has to do with that hellscape. I love you, Yn. And I don’t know what I would do without your constant flexibility with my chaotic life. So this is a very small token of my appreciation. The first part, at least.”

I hummed against his lips, letting my arms lay across his shoulders. I kiss him deeply. “The first part?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, hands falling down my back, a less than PG-13 flex of his hands on my ass. “First, I want you to open those little boxes. Then, we’re gonna eat and have some dessert.”

“I feel like there's more to this list,” I smile, making my way back to the counter to get our food. One second to the next, Harvey gripped my arm and pulled me back into his chest. I could feel his desire pressing into me. “Looks like I’m right.”

“You’re always right,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear. He kissed the side of my neck, leaving a little bite below my ear. “Go sit, I’ll get the food.”

A new thrill fueled my body, propelling my steps to the dining room. I sat, playing with the end of the table cloth as Harvey brough everything over. The champagne, the card, the boxes and the food. Before he made his way to his seat, his palm cupped my neck and he tilted my head back. His deep, lust filled eyes locked with mine before he kissed me again.

“Open whichever you’d like, darling,” he sat opposite me, tucking the napkin across his lap.

“Just because I did what anyone would for their love doesn’t mean you need to shower me with gifts, Harvey,” I said, giving him a pointed look.

“And if I bought them just because I wanted to?”

Point taken. I read the card, a picture of a polar bear wearing sunglasses on a beach with a coconut in its hand plastered on the front.

Classy. It made me giggle nonetheless.

To my Yn,

Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. Thank you for being here, even when I wasn’t. I’m sorry for my absence, I promise I’ll be more conscious of my time spent at the office. I love you, more than I ever thought I’d ever be able to love anything. You are everything I’ve always wanted, and everything I never knew I’d need. After this last month, I didn’t understand just how badly I craved you. Your smile, your laugh, your warmth. The taste of you in the morning, and those adorable snores at night. No matter how many times I do it, I’ll never get tired of kissing you. Never tire of taking your breath away. I’ll never get sick of you being the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing before I sleep.

You are forever entwined in my soul, Yn. And I wouldn’t dare to imagine it otherwise.

I love you. <3 Harvey

I looked up at him, tears lining my eyes. He just winked at me, fork scraping his plate as he shoved a mouthful in.

“Fuck you for that,” I sniffled, brushing away the tears as I blinked. “That was so uncalled for, you didn’t need to do that to me. That’s so unfair.”

He smiled, “I know you love that shit. And before you ask, Donna didn’t come near me when I was writing that. It all came from up here.”

I laughed as he touched the side of his head. “Good to know all those years at Harvard Law taught you something other than corporate jargon.”

“Open the boxes, little devil,” he sipped his champagne, nudging the boxes towards me.

Both were a dark blue velvet, unlabeled. They were closed with a silver ribbon. The first one I grabbed was about the size of a book, and something rattled inside. I undid the bow, lifting the lid. Inside was a Kindle. I gasped, pulling it out and looking it over.

“Harvey,” I grinned, mouth falling open. “You did not.”

“But I did,” he smiled brightly. “Unlimited.”

I could jump his bones from across the table. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Well, after you find out I got you a case, a Pop Socket, and one of those stands with the remote clicker so you don’t even have to hold it, you might love me a little more.” I squealed, pushing out of my chair as I crashed into him. We nearly tipped backwards. Harvey laughed, rubbing my sides as I latched onto him. “I knew you’d appreciate this. I know we haven’t been together much, but I remembered you showed me a video of some girl who had one.” “You remembered that?” A new set of tears choked my voice.

“Of course I did. And I also remember you telling me that if I bought you another set of earrings you’d use them to pierce my ears, so that option went out the window.”

I swatted his chest, Harvey’s smile easy as he eased me off of him. “This is perfect, thank you so much.”

“Of course, my dear. Now open the next one.”

What could be better than a Kindle Unlimited? With a stand AND a remote to turn the pages for me. Harvey has no idea what he’s done, I’ll literally never get out of bed again.

Practically ripping the box in half, I take off the lid and peer inside.

I blink a few times, looking from him to the box. “My passport?”

“Yup.”

“I feel like there is something I’m not getting here.”

“There is.”

“Are you gonna tell me or make me guess?”

“I’m not that mean,” he rolled his eyes.

“I mean you have been ignoring me for the past month,” I feigned being upset, letting out a little yelp when he threw a piece of broccoli at me. “You're literally four years old.”

“We’re going to China.”

Everything stopped moving. I dropped the box, my small, navy blue passport skittering across the floor. My ears buzzed, my fingers buzzed. “I- What?”

Harvey grinned. Fuck, I missed that grin. “We’re going to China. We won the case last night, and I am desperate for some time with you. You’ve always wanted to go, so why not now? I have everything set up. We’re gonna stay in the mountains, we’re gonna go hiking and see some shows. I also know you’ve wanted to-”

“We’re going to China?” I had to make sure I heard him right? I’ve been learning the language for years now, engrossed with their rich culture and history. The cuisine, the art, the music… everything. Had I been in a different timeline, I would’ve moved there.

“Yes, my love. We’re going to China. Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” My eyes nearly fell out of my skull. “I can’t take two weeks off of-”

“Yn,” he cut me off, knowing I was going to spiral into a never ending list of reasons of 'why this and why that'. “It’s all been taken care of. All you have to do is pack a bag and get you cute ass in my car on Sunday morning. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“But-But Harvey… what the FUCK? WE’RE GOING TO CHINA? Oh my god, I have to call Donna.”

“Can you call Donna tomorrow? I have other things I’d like to do before you go blabbering to her about how amazing and awesome I am for planning this.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Donna planned this, didn’t she?"

“She did find the panda place. And the art festival. But everything else was my doing. You can applaud now.” Cocky, arrogant son of a bitch. My cocky, arrogant son of a bitch, but one nonetheless.

I looked at him, dumbfounded. He did all this for me, just because he had a crazy workload. I feel like it should be the opposite, me pampering him, congratulating him on his huge win. Not him fueling my book obsession and planning my dream trip.

But it was yet another reason I loved him more and more every day. He just did these things, without prompting. Without need. He felt like he was neglecting me, leading to… all of this.

We ate our dinner, chatting about anything other than the case. I asked about it, twice, and he completely side-stepped my attempt. I wanted to know, but if he didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t push. I told him the plot of this terrible Mafia romance book I finished earlier in the week, and he listened to every grating, awful point I made about it. All with a dopey smile on his face.

Harvey cleared the plates, setting them in the sink. He brought more champagne, the strawberries and the cherries. In a calm silence, we devoured them, eyes raking over each other. I risked a look below the table, seeing just exactly where he wanted the next phase of the night to go.

“You looking at it makes it worse, you know,” Harvey leaned back in his chair, my legs propped in his lap. He stroked his hand up and down, fingers dipping into one of the holes in my jeans.

“Good,” I smiled, a sinful intent in my eyes.

He looked from my smile to my eyes and back down. With a curse, he threw my legs off his lap and pulled my chair close to his. Harvey enveloped his mouth with mine, the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with the sour berry and tarte champagne. Every flavor on his tongue became my own.

I was in his lap the next second, legs folded against his thighs. Harvey kept me firmly planted. Steady. He wouldn’t dare let me fall. I got lost in him, suddenly aware just how long it had been since I truly had him. Truly tasted him. Truly craved him.

He stood, taking me with him. The familiar route to our bedroom whirled by. I landed on the bed with a soft bounce, tugging on the collar of his shirt until he laid on top of me.

“So demanding,” he whispered on my lips. I wrapped my legs around his hips to emphasize my need. “Fuck… I love it when you get like this.”

“You made me this way, Harvey,” I pleaded, eyes catching him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you what you deserve,” Harvey sighs. It’s not heavy, but it’s noticeable. “Let me take care of you, Yn.”

“I just need you to-”

“I know, my love. Let me worship you. Treat you how you deserve. You’ve been so patient with me, now let me return the favor.”

Well, I’d be stupid to deny him.

Delicately, he kissed down my torso, lifting my shirt over my head and throwing it for tomorrow's problem. He removed my socks, then my jeans. From ankle to knee, he kissed and bit my skin, making me squirm against the sheets.

Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, the tips of my fingers and toes pulsing with anticipation. With the last remaining pieces of my clothes gone, he spread my legs, kneeling to the ground.

The sight of Harvey Specter on his knees between my thighs was… empowering. Not that he hasn’t tasted me with his tongue, I’ve just… always been on top. Never so… exposed.

A heady sigh left my lips, body going lax with the first pass of his tongue on me. I clenched my legs against his ears, muffling my whines. He pushed them against the mattress, eyes pinning me as he sank his teeth into the muscle of my thigh.

“You know better than to hide those pretty moans from me, my love.” Yes, I do know better. “Scream my fucking name if you want.”

I just might.

He made quick work of me, practiced movements easily sending me up and up and up. He’d slow back down, torture me with more bruising marks on my thighs while I writhed and begged for him to let me release. I arched up off the bed when he added his fingers.

I was so close, a month's worth of pent up desire threatening me all at once. My mind and body were on fire. I couldn’t hold off any longer. I chase that high, circling my hips against his face. His hands, firmly planted on my inner thighs, I shook, that month long ache finally subsiding before roaring back to life.

When I thought he’d stop, he kept going. Around and around and around his tongue went. Teasing and sending an endless supply of pleasure through my body.

“H-Harvey,” I gasped, my body up in flames over his never ending devotion.

“I’ll stop when I want to. Fuck Yn, you taste so sweet. Almost as sweet as hearing you beg for me to let you cum. Can you take one more?”

Again, I nodded, content to let him spend however long he wanted at my aching core. My second release came much sooner than the first. He didn’t bother teasing me, knowing it would ruin all his hard work if he stopped. With a few more sweeping passes, he licked me clean, sitting back on his heels to look at me. He wiped my cum off on the back of his hand, giving me a wicked grin.

“You are so fucking beautiful, all laid out for me to do as I please,” Harvey said, beginning to strip.

“Please Harvey, have me. Any way that you like.”

He chuckled, kneeling over me. “I will, but like I said, I want tonight to be all about you.”

“Well I want you to fuck me.” I am not very good at being subtle.

“How can I deny you when you ask so nicely,” he purred, closing our lips together, I parted my legs for him, desperate for the friction of his body on mine. His chest, his stomach, his hands lacing with mine. I needed all of him all over me.

It didn’t take long for him to slip inside me, every inch of him stretching me in the most desirable way. I hummed as he stilled, his need clear in the way his arms shook to keep still.

“Move, please please move,” I begged, threading my hand in his hair. With a reluctant drop of his head, he rolled his hips into mine, our bodies finally meeting in full.

“I was trying to be gentle,” he reasoned.

“Fuck gentle, I need you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know my love, I know.”

With each thrust into me, a new sensation bubbled inside me. My toes curled, my back bowed, my eyes fluttered shut. He quickened his pace, heavy breaths falling from his lips into mine. His air was mine. Every muttered curse and moan and praise went straight through me. He needed me as much as I needed him.

~~~~~

With my mind not fully awake, I lazily fling myself off my stomach and onto my back. My arm knocked into something hard, and I squinted against the morning sun. Oh, Harvey.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, crashing back down against the pillow.

He chuckled, kissing the hand that accidentally hit him in the face. “It’s okay.”

“Are you going into the office?” I asked, still keeping my eyes closed. Man this bed is so comfy…

“No?” He said, a question in his tone. “Why would I?”

“Why else are you up so early?”

“I was just looking at you, my love. It’s been a while since I’ve just… looked at the love of my life. Taken the time to appreciate just how fucking stunning you are.”

My heart melted, a lovesick feeling welling up in my chest. I turned over, facing the handsome lawyer and grinned ear to ear. “I’m sure I look fabulous after last night.”

“You’ve never looked hotter. Lips swollen from mine, hair a mess from my hands… your body covered in my-”

“Okay,” I snatched his lips between my fingers, silencing his next words. “I did just wake up, at least let me shower before you destroy me again.”

“Only if I can quote on quote destroy you in the shower before I cook you breakfast and fuck you again on the counter.”

My eyes snapped open, meeting his blown out pupils. “You certainly have a vivid imagination for…” I looked over at the clock on the side of the bed. “... eight thirty-seven AM.”

“Wait till you find out I’ve been awake since six. With nothing to do but plot all the ways I could ruin you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, offering my lips as a peace offering. He quickly accepted, kissing me deeply. “Man, I missed this.”

“More than you could ever know.”

#harvey x reader #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter x you #harvey specter suits #harvey specter fanfiction #harvey specter #smut #writing #my writing

852 notes · View notes

rqgnarok · 3 months

Note

Hello! I loved your Jamie Tartt angst and would love more angst that leaves you hurt but resolves itself (I’m too mushy for things ending at angst) maybe self sabotage? I feel like season two Jamie would be good at that since he does want to be better but doesn’t fully believe in himself. Or Jamie is still into Keeley and reader likes Jamie and is icing out Jamie to protect their self? Literally anything there is a Jamie angst deficit 😩 mwah <3

hi anon! sorry it took me so long, school and then writer's block kicked my ass. full disclosure, i didn't read this after i wrote it so sorry for any mistakes! enjoy <3

“Thought you left.”

You close your eyes in despair, thankful at least that Jamie can’t see you. You’d been sure your escape had been a subtle one but here he was– the very person you were trying to avoid following you to the balcony on the less crowded side of the restaurant.

You didn’t think he’d notice. He hadn’t yet– looked at you or talked to you since he came into the team event with Keeley wrapped around his arm, looking gorgeous and worthy of his attention. She had smiled at you, genuinely happy to see you, which made this whole thing entirely more ridiculous.

You’d thought this was a date. After replaying the interaction between you and Jamie for the umpteenth time, you’ve come to the conclusion that your own excitement blinded you to the reality of it all. When Jamie had asked, all nonchalant without making eye contact, if the PR team would be at the annual team dinner in a non working capacity, you’d let yourself imagine something you couldn’t have only to be left a fool.

Well. Here you are now, paying the price.

“Just needed a second,” you try to sound like there’s a smile gracing your lips despite how close you are to tears, but won’t look back to meet Jamie’s eye. He settles at your side soon enough, hands in the pockets of his suit while yours remain gripping the railing, hoping for a full breath that just won’t reach your lungs. “There’s a lot of people in there.”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he says, hitting the nail on the head regarding your anxiety in crowded places. There’s a reason you work behind the camera, making other people look good while getting to stay away from the limelight. “It’s just the team, right? You’re okay with us.”

You can’t help but agree, even if it sounds a little miserable. “Yeah.”

Jamie doesn’t follow up and you find yourselves enveloped by the silence and the sounds of the street life underneath you. Cars passing by, people chatting and talking, the whistle of the air as it threads through your clothes and bites at your skin.

“Are you cold?” he asks when you shiver, shifting to take off his jacket and wrap it around your shoulders. You really wish he wouldn’t, stopping him before he can.

“I’m fine,” your voice betrays you and breaks, and you don’t have to look at Jamie to know he’s looking at you now, urgently searching for a sign of discomfort. “I’ll go back in a minute, yeah? I’m right behind you.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, surer than anything else he’s said so far. There’s a steel to his voice now that he’s realized you’re not fine at all, willing to protect you even from yourself. “I like keeping you company.”

“Jamie–”

“Are you alright?” you have to, you have to look at him, and there’s a furrow to his brow that frames his face so, so nicely. Eyes wide and concerned, one of his hands leaves his pocket to reach for you. He says, softer. “You’re crying.”

“Am not,” you say peluntantly, because you’re not. Not yet at least. You’re cold and tired in your fancy attire and fancier shoes, but you’re not crying. You won’t until you’re in the safety of your apartment, away from the people who care about you. “I’m okay, Jamie, please go back inside.”

“Love,” he says knowingly, tilting his head. His searching hand, after a moment too long of hesitation, touches your cheek. He’s frowning still. You wish he didn’t look so handsome doing so. “We’ve barely talked tonight. I was hoping…”

He drifts off when a loud laugh from inside catches him off guard, quickly retreating back to himself and digging his hand back into his pocket, taking a step back from you.

It’s such a terrible sequence of events in such a short amount of time that it makes you laugh, a sharp sound that surprises Jamie as much as it seems to hurt him. “I–” he begins, then cuts himself off.

It dawns on you that this might not be the first time Jamie has been rendered speechless, but it is the first time you’ve seen him scared.

“It’s fine,” you say. And it’s not. It’s not, but– “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You turn back into the night and wait one, two, five arduous seconds in which Jamie doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself before you hear his steps begin to retreat. Breathing out, you think the worst is over until he speaks, “you look beautiful tonight.”

He stutters. “Always, y’know, but tonight. You do. You do.”

“Can we… can I see you? Before you go?” he wonders.He calls your name when you don’t take the bait, frustration coating his tone. “Come on, I’m tryin’ here, sweetheart. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” you say, soft, so soft you’re sure he doesn’t hear it. “Nothing, Jamie.”

“Okay,” he says. Then– “I’ve been tryin’ to ask you out for over a month and you won’t let me.”

You want to be angry, but the statement only makes you sad. “Go back to your date.”

Jamie splutters in disbelief. “What?”

“Keeley’s probably wondering where you are,” it sounds accusing even to your own ears, and you hate it. You never intended to get him into trouble or bother him with your feelings for him. “Go back to your date, Jay.”

“That’s not– she’s not–” he blabbers. “Love, please–”

Isaac and Dani, drunk out of their minds, crash into the balcony to wrap their arms around Jamie, too out of it to notice your distress or that you’re even there. They call his name to the melody of Baby Shark, loud and basked in laughter.

“Ayo, lover boy!” Isaac barks, wiggling his brows suggestively. “Your girl’s lookin’ all over for you! I think she’s ready to go home if you know what I mean.”

“Fuck off,” Jamie snaps, thoroughly upset but barely heard above Dani’s teasing ohhhhh. “Can’t you see I–”

You abruptly turn, barely sparing them a look as you excuse yourself meekly, voice wet and hushed. Jamie tries and fails to hold onto you, calling your name. You only feel the brush of his fingertips on your bare elbow as you escape his grip and leave him behind.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #reader insert #x reader #jamie x reader #ted lasso fic #dani rojas #isaac mcadoo #keeley jones #leo writes

178 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 9 months

Text

The Spear and the Sword

Masterlist Here.

Word Count: 3,807

This is the final fic for the year, a wonderful prompt given by an anon months ago. Thank you to @since-im-already-here for beta reading and correcting grammar. If there's any issue, know my sister is to blame, folks.

@gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @vespidphoenix happy new year!

Warning: blood, gore, flirtatious dialogue, mutual pining, playfulness in battle, enemies to lovers, warlord reader, fluff, Mihawk x female!reader.

I said I'd get it done before the new year. Happy New Years Eve to my fellow Aussies!

This was too much. This was far too much. This was far too much for lord Dracule Mihawk to fend off alone. His great sword Yoru was spattered with the blood of several foes, each impact meeting his blade creating more lethargy in the broody sword master of the seas. His title of “worlds greatest” was hanging in the balance as more enemies approached him with more fervour than ever before.

“Garp,” Mihawk growled into his den-den-mushi earpiece, “you said there would be a few hundred. This is in the upwards of a couple thousand. What is going on back there?” Static and groans of battle were met within the earpiece in return, huffs of gruff breath and thumps of fists coinciding within the ferocious melody.

“It was all I was aware of, Mihawk,” Garp growled once the battle was silenced in the background of the call, “my marines are barely holding up on this end. The other warlords are occupied, I’ve got none to spare you.” Mihawk almost met with a single shot from a bullet, weaving away with a dance-like twirl to dodge the metallic, circular object. He swiped his lengthy blade within the air and kicked back the individual who shot at him, his torso falling to impale themselves against a fence post as a result of the blow.

The town he was tasked to protect, a marine base home to several prominent family members within the world government; alongside the sick, weak, young, and elderly, were currently engaged in a war-like battle with pillagers and pirates from the four corners of the north, east, south and west blues. This army was accumulated under a foreign flag, their jolly roger unfamiliar to both marines and warlords alike. Mihawk had been fighting at the front line alone, his ship destroyed under the destruction of war: his traveling vintages of fine wines claimed by the seas.

As another made his approach, Mihawk huffed out an exhausted and frustrated breath while continuing to swipe to relinquish the foes and meet them with the sharpened edge of his blade.

“Mihawk,” Garp interrupted his flow of battle with his voice cutting through the air within his snail earpiece, “we might have someone available. You’ve worked with her before, a warlord like you. She’s on her way.”

“Boa?” Mihawk asked while placing his fingertip to the shell of the earpiece, “I thought you said she’s on the other side of the north blue right now.” Garp growled at one of his underlings, directing them in some nonsensical way that Mihawk couldn’t quite register.

“No, not Boa,” Garp replied, panting into the earpiece with exhaustion overcoming himself. More clangs, clashes and thumps were heard within the earpiece, Mihawk turning to continue forcing the pillagers back to the shore of the beach.

“No,” Mihawk uttered firmly into the earpiece, “anyone but her. Give me cadets, give me your least valuable soldiers, give me prisoners. Literally anyone else-.”

“I don’t have anyone else!” Garp roared into the earpiece, prompting Mihawk to flinch away from it while furrowing his brows in anger. Both men managed to calm themselves down, Mihawk taking a moment to silence his rage by taking a few deep breaths.

“Put your former grievances and your ego aside, warlord,” Garp ordered within the earpiece, “she’s what we have, and she’s perfect. World’s greatest weapons-master, in fact.”

“I’m aware of that,” Mihawk murmured through his clenched teeth, his teeth grinding as he bit back his lackluster words, “she’s violent, impulsive, ferocious, messy. She’s feral and she’s the bane of my existence.”

“Have you even spoken to her?” Garp questioned, a small humorless laugh falling through his widened grimace, “she’s exactly what we need, Mihawk. You do this, and I’ll let you off the tether to tend your farms, sharpen your sword – or even sheathe it for an entire year.” Mihawk narrowed his eyes, huffing out a frustrated breath and brandishing his sword out to the side in preparation for another recuperated attack from the approaching armada.

“How soon will she be here?” Mihawk asked, his beard protruding while snarling with his upper lip drawing back.

“She’s already on the other side of the war line,” Garp confirmed with him, a final slam of iron-barred doors echoing within the background of the ship, “I’ll patch her through now.”

You tilted your head down, looking up at the coastline full of ships approaching the marine-base through your lengthy eyelashes. You drew back your playful smirk, allowing the elevation of your heartbeat to begin to work itself to frenzy within your ribcage. You were known far and wide for your battle-ready ferocity; allowing your rage to take over your emotions within the thralls of battle to relinquish many a foe.

Combat mastery began at a young age; bare knuckle boxing in gladiator cage-matches being one of the first types of combat you overtook the championship of in your youth. After boxing and grappling, you moved on to wielding large hammers and battle axes, enjoying the weight within your fists as you crushed skulls and decapitated limbs. After heftier weapons, you opted to train under the mentorship of a superior fighter. They taught you to throw the spear and reclaim it swiftly, giving you pointers to always meet your target with the piercing tip of the bladed end.

You were nothing, coming from nothing. No family to speak of, you traveled the continents, claiming title after title of world's greatest weapon-master with ease. The only one you were yet to best was the current reigning lord of Kuraigana, his title of World’s Greatest Swordsman continuing to badge itself against his bare chest with pride. Arrogant prick was the first thought that sprung to mind regarding the nature of his aura. You had seen posters, articles and even catalogs regarding his training history and weapons mastery.

As your status was elevated to warlord, the world government approached you for protection against several foes and to take on contracts they would rather not involve themselves with, you accepted under two conditions: they allow you to handle matters in your own way, being the first. Your own way, being: “I will get this done, regardless of the mess, and you will clean it up after I’m done with it.”

The other condition is you were to be given absolutely all the information available to you regarding the contracts: no children, no women: no innocents. Those were your rules. You didn’t care how feral the children were, nor how arrogant and uptight the women were. If they were innocent, you refused to do harm to them, or unleash your wrath onto the world government themselves. There were absolutely no qualms to your requests, printed in bold atop your profile.

Vice-Admiral Garp had no quarry with your methods, usually placing a den-den-mushi somewhere about within the battlefield to watch your barbaric tirades on the field in awe at your ferocity.

That was how Mihawk knew of your battle prowess, your pictures almost always covered in some form of dirt, mud and blood within the heat of battle. He absolutely despised mess, but was always held captive to your almost beckoning and sultry gaze as you removed your spearhead from another foe. And you knew him in a similar likeness, his images always clean-cut with not a splash of battle worn on him. Given the call you just received from Garp, you were quivering in anticipation to remedy such a plight from him.

“I’m going to patch you through now, Weaponsmaster,” Garp’s lilted brogue uttered into the den-den-mushi within your ear. His voice almost was quivering itself in anticipation of witnessing the carnage you were about to unleash against the armada as far as the naked eye could see.

“Thank you, Vice-Admiral,” you sang in an almost sultry tone within the earpiece, “I know you’ll be watching closely.”

“Aye, I will be lass,” Garp’s voice laughed into the earpiece. You were very well aware of how fond the older gentleman was of watching you work, not minding in the slightest at the attention and preference you got from him.

“Mihawk, you there?” Garp’s voice echoed within the earpiece, prompting you to wince away from his growl slightly.

“I am, Vice-Admiral.” A moment of pause occurred before Mihawk spoke again, “Weapons-master.”

“Sword-master,” you smirked, your voice almost purring at him, “a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

“That I’m sure of,” Mihawk replied in a bored tone. You were slightly taken aback by his standoffish mannerism, your brows furrowing low. He absolutely knew who you were, holding a title as warlord and world’s greatest weapons-master. You rotated your shoulders and clicked your neck to rid yourself of annoyance and prepare yourself for battle.

“Conceited Cunt,” you spat, unaware that the contact was still drawn between the three of you – only becoming aware once Mihawk’s voice relayed back to you, “Feral Filiform.”

“Easy now,” Garp’s voice called over the linked den-den-mushi, “Complete this feat first, then get to your flirting.”

“If you think that’s what flirting looks like,” Mihawk winced into the shell, touching his index finger to the outer shell of the den-den-mushi, “I pity your wife.” You chuckled at his crude comment, almost tangibly feeling the rage pouring off Garp in waves through the den-den-mushi attached to your inner ear.

“Save your insults for the enemy, pirate,” Garp spat into the earpiece. You heard Mihawk hum, prompting you to roll your eyes at the interaction. The ships over the shore began to fall closer to your small vessel - the rise of the tide ushering you into the new thralls of battle. You noticed there were a few hundred ships, all carrying an amassment of crew of various sizes. You once again rolled your shoulders back and pursed your lips.

Placing your fingertip to secure the shell deeper within your ear, you smirked out a final taunt to the warlord.

“This is what was bothering you? Couldn't you handle the troop all by yourself, swordsman?” You cooed into the voice responder. Silence and static was met within the drum of your ear, a stifled growl also accompanying it. You decided to get in a final jab to taunt him, “I could dispatch the armada by myself. Why don’t you take a break, old man? Sit your pretty little ass down on the beach and sit back to watch the show.”

“I’d like to see you try, barbarian,” Mihawk growled in return. Your ship brushed against the hull of the first ship to the rear of the fleet; your presence immediately making itself known as you housed yourself effortlessly over the railing. You laughed into the earpiece, feeling the rapidity of your heartbeat rising in elevation to frenzy yourself before first contact is made with your many foes.

Your spear was flung through your hands to indent itself against the top mast at the middle of the vessel, skewering several members of the mighty crew onto its pole as meat would dangle from a kebab. You grappled, kicked, flung yourself at the crew; using your hands and their own weapons against them to relinquish them from their life. Once they all fell victim to your battle mastery, you again reached your hand up to the shell-responder.

“I bet my left breastplate I will get to the middle before you, Swordsman,” you taunted him, your legs carrying themselves with haste towards the railing of the ship. You jumped high, the air lifting you and drawing your body down against the next vessel.

“I bet my waist-belt you absolutely won’t, Wild-Woman,” the swordsman snarled into the earpiece, Yoru circling around and pushing the troops back with one fell swipe. Mihawk’s teeth drew themselves back, enraged at his taunt being met with a small melodic giggle.

“Oh, this is how we’re playing, is it?” You whispered breathily into the earpiece, your spear clutched within the fist of your dominant hand as you stabbed at the next approaching foe. You giggled again, feeling at home on the battlefield. The life drained from the eyes of the enemy under the tip of your spear; another shipful of foes falling on their knees at your expert ministrations.

“Fine,” you smiled into the earpiece, singsong and humor dripping from your tongue, “I’ll see your belt and raise you my entire breastplate.” Mihawk growled in response. You held your ground, immediately flinging yourself at the next ship.

Rather than to take on several members of this crew, you shrugged your shoulders and thrust your spear downwards - sinking the vessel below your feet. You sprinted against the ship’s deck as it began to be claimed by the sea water below, ushering you on to the next ship. You threw your spear to the next vessel, embedding the tip into a lit cannon and witnessed the beautiful implosion it made; launching the spear back into your awaiting palm as you jumped onto the next one. The blast sunk the ship it was fired from, the cannonball flinging itself to sink the one laying perpendicular to the vessel.

Mihawk was not paying attention to your battle mastery, assuming you were still undertaking the first vessel you had docked your ship against and fighting like some untrained and feral marine. He snickered at the thought, himself already aboard his second vessel after pushing back the troop from their approach of the shore.

“I’m looking forward to claiming your breastplate,” Mihawk’s voice audibly smirked into the earpiece, “to add to the winning pool, I’ll claim that spear too.” A shiver of anticipation shuddered against his spine at the audible growl he managed to pull from your parted lips. Holding your spear more firmly within your hand, you growled back at him.

“There are several things I doubt you’d be able to do correctly, swordsman. Wielding my spear is the first that springs to mind,” you smirked, watching the bubbling of water rise as another ship sank against your skill, “pleasing a woman is the other.”

In order to remain silent while listening to your quips back and forward to each other, Vice-Admiral Garp clapped his wide palm over his lips to stifle an outrageous and unbridled laugh rising in his chest. Bogard smirked, hearing the commotion from the speaker molded into the desktop den-den-mushi, placing his hat over his eyes to hide his joy.

“I’ll gladly show you I can on both counts, woman.”

“You can certainly try, warlord”

“I will absolutely succeed, fellow warlord.”

Garp and Bogard were held on the edge of their seats, watching through binoculars the battle mastery balanced between you both while your quippy dialogue read as commentary to your mighty feats.

“Fine,” you again smirked into your earpiece, clothes and armor littered with the spilt blood of your enemies while your hair stuck to your face under the salty sea-spray, “If I am to give up my weapon to the cause, I will have something of equal value offered in return.”

“Yoru is not something I would ever part with for something as childish as a-,” Mihawk began, his words halting as you offered your trade.

“-If I win this little coo, you pretentious prick, your pride is coming with me,” you called into the shell attached to your ear. Feeling all the pent up rage and frustration of the respect of your skill not being met in return for your affection, you offered the best solution you could find.

“If I get to these exact coordinates, all foes falling before me,” you relayed the coordinates, Garp, Bogard and Mihawk hanging on your every utterance, “you will report back to Vice-Admiral Garp donning nothing but your stupid cross-blade, your stupid Yoru and your feathered hat.” The battle paused, the enemies halting their approach with their brows furrowing in almost disgust and awe. You held up a halting hand at them, awaiting a vocal response from Mihawk to your taunt.

Mihawk’s brows themselves were lowered, his eyes narrowed as he sought you out in the field. He couldn’t find you, couldn’t see a trail of destruction in your wake. He continued to search for you within the crowd, but was still unable.

“In that complete and utter unlikelihood,” Mihawk began, still craning his neck to seek out your form, “I accept the terms. Prepare to have your spear, your breastplate and my own satisfaction in claiming some semblance of femininity from you while I wield your body effortlessly.”

“And you prepare yourself to be absolutely humbled in response, your pride and ego removed because-,” you smirked, your eyes finally meeting with the yellow hue of the feathered warlord only a few hundred feet away from you, “-I’m nearly there.”

Mihawk’s eyes widened as he witnessed you jump to the next vessel, twirling within the air to throw a small axe into the base of the ship and sinking it by placing a wide hole within its bow. You were, indeed, very close to the coordinates. His widened gaze looked harder, noticing the absence of over half of the wide armada sinking to the bottom of the sea. How had he not noticed it before? Why, in all his stupidity, would he ever agree to this without looking properly first? Clearly, he had underestimated you. Or overestimated his ability to easily outmatch you.

The elements had changed along with the tide. Your battle-ready ferocity was overcast by an aura of calm playfulness; you giggling into the earpiece as you continued falling foe after foe beneath your spear, fist and axes. In turn, Mihawk was the one to begin to shower himself desperately in the blood of his enemies; curling up his lip at the mess alongside his stupidity at undertaking such a bet.

“C’mon Hawk, keep up. You’re nearly there. Flap your wings harder,” you’d giggle into the earpiece, uncaring whether blood, sinew or bone showered your body in the baptism of battle.

“Stop your stupid teeth from gnashing, Hyena. Your taunts mean very little to me,” Mihawk panted, his feet carrying him with more haste as he continued to unblinkingly search for you.

You giggled again in response, your feet almost carrying themselves closer to the finish line. Your enemies within the armada were fleeing from the utter horror you created, your wolfy grin and playful eyes not matching the energy of the gore befalling your form. Many simply dove overboard, ran to the next ship away from you in their cowardly retreat - only to be met with another approaching warlord with his mighty sword clutched in his dominant hand.

As Mihawk panted for breath, his adrenaline propelling him to the finish line leaving a trail of destruction in his wake; his steps quivered in his tracks as his gaze met with yours.

You were sitting on a barrel, twirling the twine around your spearhead nonchalantly with a litter of bodies laying at your feet. Your left brow was arched upwards, the knowing smirk plastered against your plush lips as you hummed a tune of victory through your nose.

“Looks like I’ll get to see what your other sword looks like,” you cooed in a melodic tune, not meeting his gaze and remaining aloof, “you can leave your boots at my feet. I think I might wear your coat home with me, Swordsman.”

“You are disgusting,” Mihawk spat at you, his breath finally catching up with him. He was now left breathless at witnessing your ferocity, the wild shape of your battle-worn eyes holding him hostage with tense emotion.

“You agreed to the terms, Mihawk. Now it’s time to pay up-,” you uttered darkly, snapping your head over to his form with your eyes narrowed at him.

“-I meant your appearance. So wild, so feral, so-,” his next words caught in his throat as you drew yourself down from your sat position atop the barrel, “-unladylike.” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes in your approach. Wiping your forehead with the back of your arm, you rid your face of the bone, blood and sinew blocking your view of him. He was a very pretty man, the most beautiful you had seen in a long time. Although slightly taken aback by his clean and uptight appearance, you stood your ground.

“What would you have me wear then? Silks and satins while I dance amongst the chaos? I think not, lord Dracule Mihawk,” you spat at him, laughing dryly at your own comment. Mihawk sucked in a small breath through his nostrils, wincing at your comment with his lips curled into a snarl. You overemphasized a sigh, placing your spear against your back and stretched your arms to cool down your body.

“I’ll make you another deal then, Mihawk,” you smirked again up at his towering form, “I’ll go and get cleaned up and don some pretty little dress for you,” you prodded his bare chest with your index finger and traced a pattern against his pectorals, “and you can go and relay the play by play to Vice-Admiral Garp completely starkers, okay?”

Mihawk growled, eyes looking to your tender touch against his chest and almost again finding himself falling to his knees under your radiant ferocity. He rolled his neck, arched his soldiers back and leaned into your touch.

“Fine,” he spat in response, gripping your bloodied wrist beneath his palm and curled fingertips, “but it better be something tight and preferably black.” You giggled at his comment, raising your other hand up to his cheek and patting it affectionately with a small utterance.

“What a good boy you are,” you praised him with another cooing taunt, scrunching up your nose and smiling with your feral eyes, “now take off your boots, coat and pants and run along now. I’ll be all dolled up for you and ready for you at the waterfront tavern. I might even see that your clothes are cleaned, pressed and waiting once you arrive.”

Your comment finally broke him, a warm laugh cracking through his tough exterior and rumbling within his chest to pour from his mustached lips.

“It’s a shame I lost,” he leant his cheek into your touch, prompting you to furrow your brows in curiosity. He stooped his form lower to you, tickling your face with his playful and breathy whisper, “I would’ve liked to have shown you how well I can please a woman.”

BONUS

Eyes were either focussed exclusively on the ceiling or marines would simply turn around as the darkened and well seasoned lord of Kuraigana entered the military office building. Holding true to his word, and the promise of good company after his humiliation, he sauntered confidently into Vice-Admiral Garp’s office donning nothing but Yoru strapped to his back, his cross-blade hanging loosely from his neck, and his feathered hat atop his sea-sprayed, curled, dark locks.

#Mihawk #one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x warlord!reader #dracule mihawk

378 notes · View notes

nofingjustaninchident · 6 months

Note

Hi, I just saw your Jason Grace general headcanons and I was wondering, can you do a Jason Grace boyfriend headcanons this time?

Jason Grace boyfriend hcs

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: jason grace boyfriend material

warnings: f1 references, one direction references, other than that just mushy gushy fluff

a/n: yk what? i absolutely hate writing hcs. i prefer one thousand times to write fics. the problem is, i don’t have creativity enough to write a fic, and neither do i have time. when i have inspiration, im usually in class and i hate writing fics in my notebook but whatever. i hope you enjoy?? lmk!!

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

He. Is. The cutest boyfriend ever. In the whole world.

He’s literally the sweetest person

With you? My gods

My boy’s whipped.

He’d do absolutely anything you asked him to do, and it’s kinda cute

But also kinda scary cause he’d kill someone if you asked him to

He memorized all of your favorite artists’ songs so you can talk about that together

Frequent dates!!

Lots of gifts in absolutely random occasions

At the beginning of, he was so touch starved it was almost pitiful

But he started to loosen up the more you got into the relationship

Now he just can’t keep his hands away from you, doesn’t matter how

Interlocking pinkies or hands? Check. Hugging you from behind if you’re talking to someone? As long as you don’t get uncomfortable.

He’s just super clingy, and it’s the cutest thing ever.

He looks just like a lost puppy.

He just needs a little bit of love

Cause it’s all too much for little Jason Grace

F1 joke sorry i can’t help myself

ANYWAYS

Back to my man

He loves when you braid his hair or just spend time with you in general.

He always seems to know when you’re down

Cause he usually does know

And when you’re with your friends and he notices you’re not feeling well

He gives an excuse and pulls you with him

When you get to his cabin he just cradles you into his chest and whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

He’s a great listener, and his favorite part of the day is when he gets to come home and listen to you

If you’re not the talker type, he can talk for you

He just wants you to feel comfortable around him, always.

He feels so bad when you’re mad at him or he knows he did something that probably hurt you

Even if it didn’t, he’ll apologize for the next weeks

And some days you’re just cuddling together in a totally allowed sleepover (Aphrodite threatened Mr. D to let you sleep together, but that’s not the point), he’ll just sniffs in your hair and mumble soft ‘i’m sorry’s and ‘i love you’s into your head.

He’s just the cutest person in the world.

You know that song “In a world of boys he’s a gentleman”?

It’s him. Momma Taylor wrote it for him. I know, i was there. I was the pen.

Sometimes he just gets super clingy out of nowhere, and it’s super cute in your opinion

Even if he’s embarrassed of it later on.

If you have curly hair, he’ll ask Leo how to style your curls so he can help you

He also learns all your skincare steps so he can help you with it when you’re too tired to do it yourself

He loves when you just lay on his chest and falls asleep, he can keep reading and caressing you

He’s so in love with you it’s gross

You can bet your life that he has a picture of you in his wallet

And if demigods had phones, his wallpaper would be you & him

Oh, i just know he loves listening to one direction with you

I’m not gonna elaborate. He just does.

He’s a very smart man, so he studies a lot

And he absolutely loves when you’re there with him

But in the end he doesn’t study, he just admires you as you scrunch your nose and pouts, trying to understand something.

He loves loves LOVES going on double dates, like you & him and will & nico. It’s like his two favorite people in the world and Will as a bonus

Hehehe sorry he loves Will too

But not as much as he loves you and his younger brother Nico

If you have younger siblings in the mortal side, he’s always asking to go to your house cause he LOVES kids

He just loves to take care of them

And deep down he’s also a little bit scared that maybe he’ll not live enough to have his own

But sometimes, in the middle of the night (when the wolves come down) he finds himself staring at the ceiling and imagining how you and his kids would look like

Would they have your hair and his eyes? Maybe your freckles and his personality?

He just likes to imagine how would it be like, your family

For last, your mortal parent immediately likes him. Like, sure, there’s that whole “if-you-hurt-my-daughter” blah blah blah

BUT

they know that he’s super protective

But he’s a great boyfriend.

And if you’re happy, they’re happy too.

And Jason fits in that list.

a/n pt2: I. MADE. IT. LONG. AND I CANT BELIEVE IT!! but look, i promise that im writing a real thing, it’s just that im drowning in homework and my mom is gonna give birth soon and. i feel like jason rn tbh

#postcards from leah #jason grace #heroes of olympus #jason grace x reader #pjo hoo toa #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo #if jason grace has 1 fan it is me if he has 0 fans i am dead.#jason grace supremacy #in jason we believe

231 notes · View notes

lightsoutletsgo · 6 months

Note

mimi congrats on 500, i’m so happy for you! 🤍🧸✨🫶🏼 i never send anything for these kinds of things but i need to do it now because i trust you 👀 so okay. . . can i request 2 ships please? and ofc i wouldn’t mind a little nsfw. i’m an aspiring actress, my favorite food is pasta and always will be. i’m a little introverted and shy but once i’m comfortable around people i’m able to get out of my bubble. i’m a perfectionist and don’t like not having control over my life. i have a hard time expressing my feelings :( and may come across as a cold person but i am extremely sentimental, i just wanna be held and loved. i like going out as much as i like staying in watching a movie or doing anything, really.

congrats again baby, love youuuu. <333

ahhh gwen! I'm so honoured that you trust me to write this request hehe I hope you enjoy it - this was literally so fun 🤭 happy reading! love mimi 🤍

MAX VERSTAPPEN ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ (everyone pretends to be shocked) - calls you schatje or lekker ding (when he's being silly) - loves loves LOVES feeling your hand in his!! it keeps him grounded - his love language is physical touch - he loves surprising you with flowers and buying you flowers. doesn't even need to be for anything, he just loves showing you how he feels through the language of flowers (omg fic idea?)

max relates hard to feeling like a perfectionist and while he also wants you to be the best version of yourself, he doesn't allow you to be hard on yourself. if he sees you getting too into your head, he's quick to hold your face and make you look at him. he'll remind you that he loves you and that he's proud of you. the way he looks at you makes you feel like you could make a million mistakes in the next few minutes and you'd still be okay - because you have him by your side. both you and max are often called the ice couple. no one means anything by it! they just think it's kind of funny how you're so short with others (especially if you're upset or stressed) but then you look at each other and it's like you do a 180. max won't ever admit this but it actually turns him into such a melt knowing that he's the only one who can turn you that mushy.

max loves taking you with him on race weekends and he will never not get butterflies seeing you there waiting for him in the garage with his name and number on your shirt, but nothing makes him get butterflies more than you sleepily curled up on his chest at home. he's a sucker for at-home dinner date nights and he loves cooking with you in the kitchen, it's fine if it gets super messed up because then he's telling you to get dressed and he's taking you out for dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in monaco where you know there's no way that he would have gotten in if he wasn't the max verstappen.

he loves that you have your dream of being an actress and he does as much as he can to support you in that, even if he's on the other side of the world. helping you look for workshops and audition opportunities, introducing you to your favourite actresses and inspirations when they're at the f1, helping you learn and run lines. you support him so much in his dream and career, showing up to as many of his races as possible that he can't wait for the day he gets to return the favour and stand on the red carpet as your trophy husband for the night! he's actually really excited by the thought!

max is absolutely addicted to the noises you make for him and only him as he loves to remind you. nothing satisfies him more than seeing your eyes roll back as he murmurs to you, his voice low, "who's making you this messy schat hmm?". he relishes in the way you squeeze around him when he's pushing in for the first time and you love the way he grips your hips as he does his best to control himself, the ache of his fingers digging into your hips a delicious reminder over the next few hours of just who you belong to. max is possessive, highly possessive. there is no way you're not leaving his bed, couch, apartment, car, driver's room, without him leaving a pretty mark in at least one or two places. he never does it where it can be captured by the cameras, instead choosing spots that only the two of you know about or spots that he can gently press when you're in public, the brief sting sending tingles down your spine.

"schatje?" max's voice prompts you to open your eyes from where you'd been dozing on the couch with the cats, "what do you want for dinner tonight?" you crane your neck to look at him as you gently scratch under sassy's chin, giggling at the way you feel her starting to purr against your tummy, "hmmm..." you look at him and bite your lip with a smile, max chuckles and nods, "pasta it is then!" you let out a cheer as max crosses the room and gently lifts your head to create a space to sit. as soon as he's sitting, he's placing your head back in his lap, one hand automatically soothing over your hair, his other hand snaking down to link his fingers with yours. you hum happily and he gazes down at you with so much love and adoration you swear you could cry. he leans down to press a soft kiss your forehead. you're not even aware of your eyes closing and drifting off to sleep but when you next open your eyes, you're cuddled into max, the cats nowhere to be found. it's dark outside and the lamp in the corner is switched on, casting a dim golden glow over the room. "how long was I out?" max stretches before pulling you closer to him, burying his nose into your neck and inhaling your cosy sleepy smell. "a couple of hours..." you sigh contentedly, hands sneaking under his hoodie to gently scratch at his lower back soothingly and he shudders next to you, "fuck... I missed you this weekend schatje." "I missed you to..." "I really don't wanna get up to make dinner," you giggle, "me either..." he sighs as if he's making a life altering decision, "then I guess we're just gonna have to order from your favourite italian restaurant." you give a little excited squeak as he rolls on top of you, softly grabbing one of your calves to wrap your leg around his waist, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck before he whispers in your ear, his voice gravelly, "think I could make you cum before dinner arrives?"

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

LANDO NORRIS ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you baby or sugar (when he's being annoying) - is addicted to your lips! like he loves kissing them but sometimes he gets so distracted just staring at you talk - his love language is acts of service - lando really isn't a good cook but he'll learn to make your favourite pasta dish just for you! lando is known for being that happy smiley, golden retriever around everyone whether he knows them or not. but you're not and he understands that! whenever you're in a new environment or meeting new people, he's gently linking his fingers with yours and squeezing once, twice, three times just to remind you that he's there if you need him. he'll happily stand slightly in front of you if it makes you feel better but as soon as you've warmed up and you're in your zone he's stepping back with a proud smile (and totally zoning out because your lips look so good when you smile and laugh)

lando is not a chef in any way, but he is determined to learn how to make your favourite dishes just because the way your eyes widen and you smile at him when he presents dinner to you is worth any amount of time or fails or tiny burns he gets in the process! he loves being able to surprise you after a long hard day or at any point! sure the presentation might be lacking and sometimes you have to add a little extra salt when he's not looking, but he does it with so much love and care. even taking the time to set the table up with a candle and some flowers. he'll pull your chair out for you to sit down and serves you as if you were dining at a michelin star restaurant (the only difference is that you pay him in kisses not cash!) he loves when you sit on stream with him and he loves watching you interact with the fans, asking them questions and passing on their questions to him. fans have made many compilation videos of the two of you and the titles and contents never fail to make you giggle watching them when lando's away and you miss him. "lando and his doberman gf" "golden retriver bf x black cat gf" "lando and his gf being the sun and moon for 10 minutes" lando loves how your lips look when they're smiling and laughing but he also loves how they look wrapped around his fingers as he slowly rolls his hips into you while you whine and moan underneath him. he loves the way they look around his cock and sometimes all you have to do is bite or lick your lips before he's clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, desperately trying to stop himself dragging you off to a quiet corner or his room - he usually fails! lando loves sloppy kisses while he fucks you nice and slow and deep, smirking into the kiss as you let out the most lewd whines and whimpers, drooling and cock drunk. he sometimes gets so turned on that he's begging you to sink to your knees under his desk. he's stopped a stream early before now, just because he couldn't wait any longer!

"hey sugar," you roll your eyes with a smile as lando slides onto the bed next to you, "come here often?" "you're ridiculous," you laugh and shove his arm. he wraps his arms around your waist and rolls onto his back, dragging you with him, "lando!" he cuddles into you, firmly tucking you into his side so you can't escape, "I was looking at an audition!" he sighs, "look later..." you wriggle slightly but he's unrelenting, "you're so needy!" you coo at him and you can practically feel his cheeks heat up, "yeah well... been missing you today..." he mumbles and one of your hands comes up to play with his curls absentmindedly, "ohhh yes please," you snort, "your fans are right, you're literally like a puppy..." he pulls away to look at you, "I'd be a good puppy for you," he says with a wink as you scoff and flick his forehead, "don't be such a whore, babe," "can't help it..." he shrugs, "just gotta look at your pretty lips," his face gets closer to yours and you can feel his breath on your lips, "just one look and I need to feel them."

he's murmuring against your lips at this point and your thighs squeeze together with no warning, he fucking giggles and presses a line of soft kisses along your jaw, teasing you. but you're not in the mood, "lando?" your voice is hushed as you look up at his pretty eyes, watching the way the lust and love he has for you swirl in them, "yes baby?" "kiss me." you don't need to ask him twice, he'll gladly kiss you anytime.

#mimi's 500 celebration ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡#mimi.writes #mimi.thirsts #sweet moots ₊˚✧*:･#gwen 🧸#max’s wifey #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #gwen <3

93 notes · View notes

or0ch1maru · 10 months

Note

Akatsuki Beach day HCs?(also include orochimaru if you don't mind) kisame is thriving

Anytime I think akatsuki and the beach I can only imagine absolute chaos

I’m loving all these fun and mushy scripts y’all are sending my way🖤🥺also, please don’t worry if it takes me a while to get to yours, my small business and my job(I work retail and it’s been a HOT MESS with Christmas right around the corner) tend to take up a lot of my time but I promise to get to every one you lovies send in<3

Okay, back to it..

•

🐚so for starters I could see Konan being the main planner. Food, drinks, making sure they have enough of literally everything they could need, as well as making sure everybody wakes up on time to leave.

🐠then for the majority of the time they’re at the beach she would be found relaxing under an umbrella reading or watching everybody have a good time.

🦞pain on the other hand would be trying to stop deidara from blowing up Tobi. (I’ll elaborate further down)

🪸pain would definitely be the ‘dad’ of the group, making sure things aren’t getting too out of hand, and failing terribly at it. Zetsu lost a sandal? Just go barefoot, what’s the worst that could happen? He gets a splinter or a rock scrapes his heel. Feels bad when Zetsu starts crying about his foot hurting, would buy him ice cream as an apology.

🌊I imagine Zetsu as being a big softie. Just like Tobi he wouldn’t know what to do first. I also see him having a slight fear of water? Someone tries splashing him he’d close his leaves? Pinchers? Locking himself in his own shelter

☀️he’d find a bucket, a cup, literally anything and start collecting all the pretty shells he spots, even when the bucket gets full, he’ll start stuffing them in his pockets.

🪼our gentle masked comrade Tobi would refuse to take his mask off, let alone his shirt🥺

🐙poor thing couldn’t figure out what to do when they first arrived; go swimming? Build a sandcastle? Collect shells? Stare at the fish and other sea creatures showing themselves in the water? Nope, he decided on doing what he does best, piss off Deidara

🐬doesn’t even mean to do so, deidara is as explosive as his art so of course he’s going to get mad when Tobi accidentally gets sand in his hair.

🐋would retreat far into the ocean on a floaty, avoiding Tobi as much as possible. His hair would be tied up into a bun to keep the sea water from drying it out. Would most likely be those floaties with the little cup holder in it, probably with a beer can or sake in it.

🦭Sasori my man, I can imagine him working on a sandcastle. Using his skills to make a large one with details that would be tedious to anybody but him.

🦐he would volunteer to run up to the shops to grab things his comrades may want. No matter how small or stupid that item might be. Would buy small toys and presents in the gifts shops for everyone. He really enjoys walking through the board walk, will take a break and hang out on the pier for a bit before returning to the group.

🐚the zombie combo would both be talking and trying to pick up the gorgeous women who also decided to head to the beach that day. Hidan of course would be much more outgoing and flamboyant about it. Showing off his muscles and abs.

🐠Kakuzu on the other hand, all he’s gotta do is show off that one smirk of his to have them hypnotized. Wouldn’t care if one of them felt up on his scars or touched his hair. He won’t voice it, not even to Hidan, but he enjoys the attention, even if nothing comes of it.

🦈oh boy Kisame. Do I really have to say anything? As you said, he’d be THRIVING.

🦈would be moving through the water with ease, not even a ripple would be seen as he swims. Within minutes, sharks and other large sea animals would be seen following him around. He’d be so cute about it too, feeding them random shit he’d find, knowing what they want, or giving the sharks little boops on their noses(you can’t tell me you don’t see him doing this) and would be the main one to eat like 90% of the food Konan packed. She would make him join Sasori when going to the shops so he can stock up on everything he devoured.

🦞our sweet boy Itachi would pop into the water for a little bit before wandering off to the tide pools. He would find a patch of sand to sit on, watching as the sea stars and small fish go about their business as they wait for the tide to come back in

🪸would eventually get tired of being in the sun and lay out a towel next to Konan to hang out under the umbrella. They would talk or sit in silence, depends on how either of them are feeling that day.

•snake boy orochimaru would LATHER himself in sunscreen, you see how pale he is? (No offense, i love him) and he would also wear sunglasses to protect his eyes.

🌊I could see him complaining about the sun and trying to avoid it like the plague, acting as if the sun is the worst thing imaginable. Not one to express his feelings well if at all and uses his complaints to hide the fact that he’s actually having the time of his life. Would put a fish or eel in a jar, wanting to bring it back to the compound to keep as a pet until Konan tells him release it. Promising to take him to a pet store to get one there instead.

☀️towards the end of the day, moving into the early evening the whole group would play volleyball or fuck around in the water, splashing each other until everybody’s out of breath.

#akatsuki #orochimaru #konan headcanons #zetsu x reader #hidan headcanon #deidara x reader #kakuzu x reader #obito my beloved #orochimaru stories #kakuzu headcanons #sasori x reader #kisame headcanons

70 notes · View notes

sylvianightshade · 3 months

Text

Back in my unhinged Jawyer era: the way that they are so feral and ferocious with each other on the island, but in the dharma setting and back on the mainland their energy is sooo gentle. Like I do wish we’d seen more hurt/comfort for these two (we already get a lot tbf but I can always do with more hurt/comfort it is my CRACK).

For example: I think sometimes Sawyer looks at Jack and wants to hold his face and cradle his head against his chest and fall asleep with Jack in his arms, and Jack sometimes looks at Sawyer and wants to be held, wants to brush his hair out of his eyes and kiss him right on the mouth, or on the wounds he’s patching up while scolding Sawyer for being too goddamn manly and impulsive, and Sawyer will grumble about being taken care of, but Jack will catch him with that look in his eye, like he’s never seen anything quite like Jack and wants to spend every day of the rest of his life figuring this man out.

And then I think sometimes Sawyer wants to see how much he can tease Jack, how many buttons he can push, how far he can take things to truly ruffle Jack’s feathers, because he’s so fucking hot when he’s annoyed— but then if Jack actually gets upset for real, Sawyer will either a) get angry in response because he was “just teasing come on” or b) back down and apologize with the energy of a kid who’s known abuse, but usually both. And Jack will tease Sawyer the same way, sometimes when he’s bored or when Sawyer has pissed him off a bit more than usual. He’ll see if he can trick Sawyer into believing very untrue medical facts, or fabricated surgical stories that get progressively more wild as he goes along, until Sawyer figures out he’s not serious, and then he gets moody. But Jack never gets upset when Sawyer’s moody because of him. He just sits with him in silence, or waits for him to walk it off, or kisses him until he calms down, smiling softly through all of it.

And then I think sometimes they each try so hard not to ask for what they want. Like, Jack loves to look at Sawyer with his glasses on so he’s always passing him shit to read like “look at this” or “I don’t understand this” or “you could use this advice” and then watches Sawyer’s brow furrow over the top of the frames every damn time, and it checks a little box in Jack’s mushy-ass heart. And maybe Sawyer pushes himself extra hard on purpose, doing any type of physical activity or labor, because a) he always wants to prove himself (he is macho macho man), but more importantly, b) he likes it when Jack gets concerned, if he ends up with sprains and cuts and bruises that Jack has to fix, because he’s obsessed with that spark of concentration and the condescending way Jack teases him, so he can tease back (and maybe he likes the feel of Jack’s hands literally anywhere on his body, so sue him).

And then sometimes I think they do ask for what they want. Sawyer says “talk dirty to me, doc” anytime Jack is about to/in the middle of explaining something technical, and the first few times he does it Jack is confused, but then he works out that Sawyer just likes to listen to him being all smart and doctor-y and hot (and neurotic), and these instances almost always escalate to sexual territory, so Jack doesn’t mind too much either. And Jack will just enlist Sawyer’s help when he’s feeling extra lonely, tossing whatever inanimate object corresponds to the task at hand without a word to get him to join in, and he says shit like “I was gonna go get groceries/go for a run/go to the park” which is Sawyer’s cue to ask if he wants company, because if Jack wants to be alone, he’ll just leave. But even when they are both displaying what they want full-force, it’s still so vibe-based. They’re constantly reading each other and making judgements based on the subtextual signals they receive.

And then sometimes I think Sawyer looks at Jack, in a suit and tie at a formal event, or in his lab coat at the hospital, or in his pjs either getting out of bed or getting ready for bed, and he just. Has to have him, right there and then. And Jack is literally always surprised anytime Sawyer initiates flirting, kissing, sex, anything— despite the fact that it is usually Sawyer who initiates— because Jack operates on a different (autistic) wavelength and still thinks it’s weird that Sawyer’s into him. But if Jack gets horny? Oh, boy. It’s a whole thing. He’ll go quiet, and do a lot of staring, but will wait until it’s an appropriate moment (once they get home, once Sawyer has put down his book and taken off his glasses, once Jack has his full, undivided attention) to pounce. And Sawyer is also literally always surprised whenever Jack initiates, because he doesn’t usually, but the surprise turns to smug pleasure so fast, because he’s thinking “hell yes, I got this man all riled up” and that’s constantly his goal.

And neither of them drink. They aren’t each other’s sponsors but they do attend AA together. No alcohol in the house ever, and sometimes if they’re out somewhere and it’s being served and one or both of them gets a craving, they have to distract each other with something (such as a delicious food, or a funny story, or a penis). And they’re there for each other’s breakdowns, and they know every single trigger the other has. And with the whole sleeping together thing, we’ve got textbook nightmare comfort: Sawyer’s are typically loud and full of groaning and flailing limbs and they wake Jack up every time, and he has to bring Sawyer back to consciousness and remind him where he is, that he’s okay. But Jack’s are more suppressed. He goes still, wakes up either gasping or completely silent, heart hammering out of his chest. And Sawyer doesn’t always wake up with him, until he feels the cool spot on Jack’s side of the bed, and then he does always get up to find Jack, out in the living room or kitchen or bathroom, either losing it or just barely holding it together, and then it’s hug time. Hugs always make it better. Long, long hugs and whispered words of reassurance, because Jack might not think he needs physical touch as much as Sawyer does, but it really fucking helps and he’s notorious for depriving himself.

And yes, they do still argue over stupid shit, and they do still self-sabotage, but they always come back to each other. They actually can’t stand to be apart for more than like. Three days, or they start spiraling and losing touch with reality. And they do still compete over every fucking thing, until they’re fucking on top of every thing, because they’re ridiculous.

#finally posting this #so it's not taking up space in my notes anymore #lost abc #jawyer

22 notes · View notes

treedaddymcpuffpuff · 8 months

Text

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part eleven - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW; this is just really gross fluff. Like I didn’t even think I was capable of this mushy stuff but this chapter was HONESTLY my favorite that I’ve written so far. Enjoy some soft John Wick ❤️ And thank you for reading.

Work is literal hell. Not just for her, but the patient’s, too.

To replicate the infirmary, the prison has attempted to create a pop up hospital on the main level.

Literal curtains attached to metal poles separate the sick inmates from the main, drafty entrance. Blankets upon blankets is not enough to keep these people warm. The upper and lower levels have been partially closed off, and to get anywhere you have to navigate yellow tape and maintenance and construction workers and use the stairs instead of the busted elevator. That would be okay if everything she needed for her patient’s was right at hand instead of four floors down locked in a dark storage room.

She’s thankful to have her job back, but after a night arguing with managers about the safety of the inmates, and running up and down stairs with supplies including oxygen tanks and water jugs, she’s exhausted, scared for these grown men’s lives, angry, and wondering whether or not she should call whoever owns the place and tell them it needs shut down and the prisoners need relocated.

Even the guards seem scrambled, fried, like they don’t know what to do in the midst of all the damage and chaos.

She’s been looking for Mike all night, and finally she sees him as he’s walking down the hall and picking up pieces of fallen plaster.

She’s so glad that he’s alive she almost hugs him.

“Hey darling,” he smiles, letting the broom and dustpan dangle at his side. He’s pale and sweaty and his overalls look loose, like he’s lost a lot of weight.

“Are you alright?” She asks.

He shakes his head. “Just getting over whatever the hell decided to mess my lungs up. Are you alright? I was asking around, trying to see if you were here that night and if you were okay, but no one could tell me a damn thing.”

“I was here,” she nods, “but I got out fine.”

“I knew there was a reason I was praying for God to send his best guardian angel to you,” Mike tells her, wiping sweat off his forehead. “You’re blessed. A lot of people died that night.” He looks away, down the hall behind her, sadness crinkling his sunken face.

She cringes, looks at the floor, remembering. No angels have ever been in this prison, and no God exists in this fucked up world.

Instead of saying any of that, she thanks him for the prayers and asks if there’s anything she can do to help him feel better.

“Just keep yourself grounded, kid. I was in Vietnam for a long time, and I know what seeing this kind of thing does to a younger person.” He motions at the blood stains on the concrete walls. “It either makes you hard, or makes you crazy.”

They both try sad smiles for the other’s benefit before parting ways.

She looks for Benny all night, too, almost hopeful that John bluffed. But the big man is not here, and no one says anything to indicate whether he’s alive or dead, so she assumes that she signed his death certificate herself.

When she makes it home, aching and yearning for a shower and a soft pillow, John is outside her apartment.

In any other circumstance, he would see her immediately, but right now he’s helping two elderly women that live on her level load something big into their trunk.

She watches the scene unfold, sees the way they thank him and hug him and kiss his cheek like he’s just saved children in an orphanage collapse, and realizes something about John Wick: Mike’s prayers for God to send her an angel were granted. Here he is, catching her eyes and smiling, her deadly guardian angel. She couldn’t see it before while her vision was clouded by spilled blood and instinctual fear, but he’s saved her life twice, subdued everyone he’s met into loving him, threw their trash away at the bar instead of just leaving it on the table for the waitress, and, if given the opportunity, she knows, without a doubt, he’d save a kitten from a tree and carry people out of a burning building and then go back in for more.

The cold, white sunlight illuminates his tawny eyes into a pit that she’s falling into and never climbing back out of and she can’t believe him hoisting something into a helpless senior citizen’s trunk was the final push.

She reaches where he stands leaning against his car, and he kisses her cheekbone in greeting, the fever of his skin instantly warming her freezing flesh. “Let me take you for breakfast?”

This sickly sweet exchange has her all messed up inside. She feels like her heart is a sleeping dragon hoarding her emotions in a pile and someone is tickling its nose with a feather and waking the beast up.

“I’m dirty,” she tells him, as if somehow that’s going to change his plans.

He cocks his head. “I can wait while you take a shower?”

Going to breakfast with a beautiful angel sounds lovely, but she doesn’t want him to smell her sweat and run the other way. “Sorry, I’m just gross right now.”

“I love dirt,” he teases. “Just come. They run out of the blueberry pancakes fast.”

She sighs, “fine, but if you smell me it’s not my fault.”

He eases her worries by pulling her into his nostrils and inhaling the skin of her neck.

She squeals with laughter, pushing to get his stubble off her ticklish skin as he nuzzles and sniffs.

“Hm.” He pulls away, thinking. “Smells wonderful so far. Maybe I should try again-“

“No!” She flails in his grip. “No john. don’t. Stop!”

He’s in the crook of her neck again, terrorizing poor nerves.

She hits on his chest, presses her neck down over his face to buck him off, giggles obscenely for everyone in the street to hear.

Her laughter is infectious, and she is beautiful.

“Apple shampoo?” He guesses, grinning down at her after ceasing cruel ministrations.

“Apple conditioner,” she corrects, glowering.

He leads her, by the waist, to his passenger door.

While he holds the door open for her, she rolls her eyes and curtsies. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

He growls, playful, reaching for her as she falls into his cab.

She’s giggling and then screeching, shocked as he chases her in and folds her against the driver’s door.

It’s cold in here, but the heater that he calls a body can’t be fully enjoyed without some chill involved anyway.

And she can’t find the audacity to be cold when he’s tickle attacking her.

Facial hair in the crease of her neck and fingers on her belly and ribs is a deadly combination when he combines it with his huge, agile, speedy hands.

“Oh-o-k-Kay I’m sss-sorr-y!”

He digs into her armpits and she screams, bucking her body so hard that she actually lifts him up a little bit. He’s impressed.

“Please.” “No.” “Fuck.” “Shit.” All broken, yelping words from her feral mouth until he stops without warning.

He kisses her gasping lips, and grins. Zero percent disheveled or tired from fighting her while she pants and squirms. “Such language.”

“What about blueberry pancakes?” She flexes away from his lethal fingers.

“You gonna stop being a heathen?” He asks, hoping the answer is no.

“I’ll try,” she promises, grimacing while she waits for impact.

He slides off of her, and they climb over one another - mostly just John moving both of them to their respectful places since she’s so wobbly - to trade places in the seat.

“Pancakes saved your ass,” he tells her, starting the car.

“Good ol’ pancakes,” she grins, “always there in my time of need.”

The restaraunt is a tiny diner on the corner of 3rd and Cross. It’s retro, metal and faded gold red upholstery, with flowers in glass vases adorning each booth.

She wastes no time in smelling the poinsettias when they take seats across from one another.

“Wow,” she says, “these are beautiful.”

“They’ve always had fresh flowers since I was young,” John explains, leaning close and taking a whiff. “You’ve never been?”

“I just moved here a little bit ago. City of opportunity. I think I’ve been to four restaurants and they’re all pizza places.”

“When did you move?” He asks.

She tells him, then adds: “When did you move from Russia?”

“I can’t exactly remember,” he says, “young, though.”

“What was your favorite place to go?”

“Internationally?” John clarifies.

She nods, toying with the edge of her napkin.

“New York. It’s my home.”

She’s jealous of that word. Such a foreign thing for her to think about, a home. But she’s happy that he has some place he loves.

It’s strange and sad, to meet someone more lost than he’s ever been. Even when he was young, he can’t remember a time when he didn’t have a place to sleep even if it was a cold wooden floor on a burlap sack, and he still has family here.

He grabs her hand, startling her with warm touch on her freezing fingers.

Neither one is used to it, even though they crave the foreign feeling of intimacy.

He rubs her palm with his thick thumb, pressure heavy and soothing.

White snow turns blue, pink, and orange sherbet as clouds curtain back to reveal a painted, fluffed candy sky.

They stare at each other, oblivious to the rainbow of color framing their embrace in front of the big window.

John hasn’t been scared in a long time, but he’s horrified by what his chest is doing while he looks at her face.

Vulnerability hangs in the flower scented air between them, and each one is afraid to cross its’ path.

Like a near extinct species meeting another one of its kind for the first time in a jungle filled with chaos, and, yet, still extraordinarily lonely.

The waitress sets menus on their table, pulling them from uncharted sea back into familiar rocking ocean.

“John,” Cindy greets, leaning down to embrace him.

“Cindy,” he replies, smiling, patting her shoulder and squeezing her back.

The older, plump woman chokes laughter and pulls out from his arm, dusting off imaginary lint from his jacket. She cracks her back and neck and rubs her shoulder. “See you haven’t lost your heavy hands?” She asks playfully. “Gotta be careful with us older people, though. We’re breakable.”

The faintest tint of pink colors his cheeks as he chuckles apologetically. “Sorry.”

“And who’s this?” Cindy asks, grinning down at her.

John introduces them, and Cindy pulls her into a warm hug. “Hi honey.”

Cindy turns her delighted smile on John. “Delo?”

“Udovol'stviye.”

Cindy claps her hands together, laughing in joy. “I’m going to get Bill. Hold on.” She starts to scurry away, but then turns around. “Oh, what do you want to drink?”

“Black coffee,” John says.

“Orange juice?” She says.

Cindy’s gone again.

He’s reminded by the side conversation she didn’t understand that there’s something on his mind he needs to ask her, because as much as he appreciates it, it’s starting to make him paranoid. “You haven’t asked a lot about what I..” he struggles to find the right words. “Do for work.”

“Do you want me to?” Her face is forgiving, non judgmental, although a little timid.

“No.” He hopes he doesn’t upset her with the blunt answer.

“I figured.” She’s a little disappointed, but only because she wants to know if he’s safe while on the job. And also because people that don’t reveal a lot about themselves tend to just disappear without explanation.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She waves his apology away. “You don’t really know what I do for work either.”

“Hmm.” He leans back, man spreading and dwarfing the booth. His knees knock hers and she laughs nervously, shying away. “Nurses. Hurt people to make them feel better.”

She cringes. “I never thought of it that way.”

“You give people shots, dress wounds-“ he refers to himself “-fix plumbing, cover for maintenance, open packages, argue with stupid doctors, make older ladies adore you, hold people’s hands. This list goes on. Am I close?”

She laughs. “You’re forgetting one huge part.”

He motions for her to tell him about it.

“We wipe a lot of ass.”

His head falls into his hands, and he shakes with heavy laughter. “Jesus,” he says.

“What?” She teases. “Tough guy embarrassed by ass wiping? But not ass whipping? It’s two letters.”

His laugh gets harder, now with added groaning at her embarrassing admission in the nearly empty but still occupied diner. Full of surprises. He peaks at her through his hands. “Just how you say it.”

She shrugs. “Nature of the beast.”

He puts his chin in his hand. “What’s your dream job? Surely not that?”

She tells him, then asks the same question.

“Librarian,” John replies.

She actually does laugh at him this time because she thinks he’s joking. He joins her laughter.

“Yeah?” She asks.

He opens his arms wide as if to embrace the career choice. “Yeah.”

Why is it so strangely hot to imagine him as a strict librarian working late nights at her local book dealer? There’s more to that fantasy, and it involves her getting lost in the maze of massive shelves right before the library closes and then sexy suited librarian finding her and deciding to punish her for her carelessness - but getting horny in a restaurant is not convenient.

And Cindy’s back with Bill, who also gives them both big hugs.

“Jesus John,” he says, “you swallow more iron every day?”

“That’s what I told him!” Cindy cries, elbowing her husband.

“Bill,” John nods.

Cindy sets their drinks down in front of them. “I was just asking about you the other day,” she tells John. “You haven’t been on one of your long trips for a while.”

John sips his scalding coffee and listens to Cindy talk, occasionally nodding and agreeing with the banter between her and Bill.

She drinks her orange juice and listens to the conversation about Cindy almost getting mugged on 23rd.

“And I said, if John was here those punks would have been sorry.” Cindy puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head, then looks at her.

“He’s always been my little - “ Cindy looks back at John “ - big guard dog. Anybody comes in her looking for trouble, he’s got us covered.”

She smirks over at John, who’s trying to act like he’s not blushing again. He narrows his eyebrows at her cheeky expression in a challenging warning at that says ‘comment on these pink cheeks, and you’re fucked.’

Her eyes shy away from his own as she drinks more tangy juice.

“Oh my god, Bill, he’s laying the charm on this poor girl,” Cindy whispers in her husband’s ear.

Bill glares at Cindy. “They can hear you,” he says.

Cindy pats John’s upper arm, quelling his elevated embarrassment.

“You take it easy on her, Johnny,” Cindy says. “She’s a sweet girl.”

She peaks up at John over the rim of her glass and he is adorable enough that it makes her forget some of her own shyness.

“Remember when you chased that drunk guy down the street with a coffee cup?” Bill asks, changing the subject. “Guy was so scared he pissed his pants before you threw it and gave him a concussion.”

Cindy laughs, addressing her again. “He did it because the guy grabbed me up for us being out of pie. I mean, how can I help it if we’re out?”

“You make the pie,” Bill tells Cindy, deadpan.

“That’s besides the point,” Cindy scoffs. “Tall, Lanky, growing John steps right in and grabs this guy’s shirt collar and drags him off me. Guy gets up, tries to grab a coffee mug for nefarious reasons, but John grabs it first, looks at it, looks back at the guy, and just goes right for him.”

Bill and John chuckle.

“And after he’s done knocking this guy out with a coffee cup, he comes back in and asks Cindy if she’s alright and she fell in love with the little demon,” Bill says. “Called him her adopted son.”

“And gave him free pancakes for life,” Cindy added. “How many do you want, by the way?” She winks at John. “Fresh blueberries.”

They place their orders, and Cindy and Bill leave them to cook and check on other customers.

“They’re so sweet,” she tells John.

John orders a literal stack of pancakes and eats them all like he’s been starving for weeks. He also eats half her big plate of bacon, eggs, and cheesy hashbrowns when she gets full.

She wonders if the wild wolves in Russia taught him how to eat every calorie you can in one sitting and then go days without, because she’s honestly never seen him eat this much or at all. She’s jealous of him, again, for being able to stay lean and bulky even after meals like this. She contemplates asking him to switch metabolisms, watching while he drinks down a cold glass of water and looks at her from the rim of his glass.

“You work tonight?” He asks.

“Twelve hours,” she groans.

“Let me give you a ride in the morning?” He asks. “I’ll pick you up in the alley across the street.”

“Well, that’s not shady,” she jokes.

“Not at all,” he agrees.

Before they leave, he tucks a casual one hundred dollar bill under their neatly stacked dishes and then hugs part of his chosen family goodbye.

“Easy, easy,” Bill laughs, being dramatic while John squeezes him. “Jesus.”

Bill and Cindy pull her in for a hug, too, and Cindy kisses her cheek. “You come back,” the sugar-smelling woman tells her, holding her shoulders. Her heart swells as she tries really hard not to cry in front of them. This whole time in New York and she thought everyone was a soulless robot, but John’s people are just the opposite of that, and she’s grateful to meet them.

She only has time to say thanks before John is escorting her out into the bearable flurry of snowflakes.

When they get into the car, she raises her eyebrows at him and smiles like he’s the most precious thing she’s ever seen. He glances away, avoiding her adoration. “Thought you got free pancakes for life?” She ribs.

He shrugs. “It was a tip.”

She’s extremely reluctant to let Mr. Wonderful himself go about his day as they pull out front of her apartment.

They stare at each other for a minute, before John talks. “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she says, the word partially muffled by his mouth while he plucks at her top lip.

He takes his kiss back and she whines involuntarily, eyes still closed and mouth open expectantly.

He opens her door, walks her to the entrance of her complex, and lays a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep,” he says. “See you in the morning.”

#john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john wick x plus size reader #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #john wick #keanu reeves

42 notes · View notes

regretfulcorrine · 2 months

Text

Heeey everyone! So little explanation as to where I’ve been— I kinda took a dive for a while 🥲 Really sorry about that! ((tw// mentions of mental health and mushy gushy emotional stuff under the cut))

In terms of content, I’m sure y’all have seen my Hazbin spiral kinda take a front seat for a bit but I miss my Drarry boys. They have infected my heart too much for me to part from them for too long 😔 And I may or may not have joined/finished a special project filled with amazing people coming out soon involving them 👀

So on Insta and here you’ll see me dive back into my love for them more than on the bird app! I love the amazing people/Drarry artists I found on Twitter, but it’s also a very big place for the fandom to just hit the fan unfortunately 😭 And it’s small enough to where unlike a bigger fandom, it can be hard to avoid. Doesn’t help the anxiety so for now at least I post my boys more here. I honestly wanna just post more on here in general!

I of course will still post my Hazbin stuff but it’ll be just more of a mix on here in terms of what I draw is all 💃 Thank you for still being here 💖

I’ve never really mentioned my health too much before but I have pretty bad crippling anxiety. It’s hard to do a lot of stuff (go outside, talk to people, etc.) and it even at some points has affected me physically. Whether that’s me worrying myself sick or being so paranoid I don’t even wanna really do anything besides watch like silly videos. And because of that I’ve only been really able to focus on one platform and that for some reason just happened to be Twitter (which in hindsight may have…contributed to the anxiety due to the nature of Twitter….ANYWAYS) I have meds and have finally decided to participate in regular therapy, but of course there’s always those breakout episodes!

Idk if anyone else has this thing but it had been such a long time I was afraid. That so much time had passed people were mad for some reason or there would be issues 😭 BUT I’m very happy to have finally just bucked up enough to come back, if you’ll have me!

Ive really missed you guys, and the second I opened this app and decided to post it was literally like a breath of fresh air. It’s weird to say in our great year of 2024 that Tumblr of all places has become calming but here we are lmao

Thank you for reading my rambles and excuses I’m gonna make it up to y’all with some good old fashion boys kissing 💖

#corrine speaks #I’m bad at emotions bleh I’m just quirky like that 🤪

14 notes · View notes

world0fmadness · 2 months

Text

MUNCHIES AND MTV

brandon “ badger ” mayhew x reader

♡ general headcanons for a day of getting high with badger!

୨୧ short little work about getting high with my favourite himbo stoner! pretty sure the breaking bad community on here is very small these days but i do not care! brandon refers to the reader as “ dude ” because i just think he’d call everyone that <3

♡ view my tv and movie masterlist here

reading music recommendations: flesh into gear by cky - be quiet and drive by deftones - stitches by orgy

♡ whenever you don’t have work, you guys spend so much time just lazing around and getting high together!

୨୧ usually just laying in bed, legs tangled together, passing a blunt back and forth, your head resting on his chest whilst one of his hands is thrown over your lap with one of his hands drawing patterns on your thigh…

♡ reruns of the jackass tv show or the mtv rock channel playing on the tv sitting atop your dresser, volume turned low but not silent

୨୧ the room is dewey with smoke which makes you eventually get up to open a window in the bedroom, much to the displeasure of brandon!

“ hey! what’re you doin’? come back over here ” ( he gets so clingy when he’s high, he hates not having you in his arms even if it’s just for a minute )

♡ within like, 20 minutes of smoking the blunt, brandon gets the munchies BAD! so you guys slowly get up from bed and move to the kitchen

୨୧ rifling through your cupboards, both of you realise you don’t have any snack stuff :(

♡ you’re both kind of broke so most of the time you don’t have super stocked cupboards, it’s nothing new but it feels much worse when you’ve got the munchies…

୨୧ but not to fear! you look through the freezer and what do you find? chicken dinosaurs! leaning up to show them to brandon who immediately gets a big goofy grin on his face

“ oh fuck yeah dude! chicken dino’s, you’re gonna cook ‘em, right? ” ( of course you are )

♡ you prepare them to go in the oven whilst brandon is watching like a kid waiting for his favourite dinner… mindlessly chuckling at the different dinosaurs laid out on the foil

୨୧ whilst they’re cooking, you and brandon play some backyard wrestling on his old PS2, giggling at the over the top moaning from the female wrestlers

♡ he lets you win every match, you can tell he’s letting you win and softly smack him on the shoulder…

“ hey! what? ‘m not lettin’ you win… why would i do that? ” ( he gets kind of whispery towards the end of his sentence, a clear indication that he’s lying, you know him too well )

୨୧ brandon asks SO many stupid hypothetical questions when he’s high…

♡ you have no idea how or why he even thinks to ask them but he asks you at least 10 variations of what you would do if aliens came to earth

୨୧ eventually the timer you set for the chicken dinosaurs goes off and brandon jumps off the end of the bed and practically sprints to the kitchen, grabbing a plate from the cupboard and waiting for you to pull them out

♡ you share a plate of chicken dinosaurs between yourselves back in the bedroom, brandon surprising you by naming every dinosaur on the plate before he eats them… why does he know so many dinosaurs? that’s a question for another day!

୨୧ he praises your cooking skills ( as if they weren’t frozen pieces of chicken you literally just shoved into the oven )

“ these’re so good, dude! thanks for makin’em ” ( you cover his mouth with his hand whilst chuckling, telling him to stop talking when he has food in his mouth )

♡ you both devour them in what’s probably a record breaking time, feeling as though you hadn’t ate for days…

୨୧ brandon gets SUPER mushy and cheesy when he’s high, calling you just about every pet name in the book, telling you how beautiful he thinks you are and always wanting his hands on you, giving you soft kisses from time to time

♡ not to mention how giggly he gets, oh my god!

୨୧ he laughs at literally everything when he’s high, he thinks everything is just so funny! a music video comes on the mtv rock channel? he’s erupting into a fit of laughter and doesn’t have an answer when you ask him what’s so funny

“ i don’t know! it’s jus’ funny, i just think it’s funny ” ( him laughing so much causes you to laugh and now if anyone else were to see you two, you’d look insane )

♡ another thing about him is he really doesn’t like being dressed when he’s high, he just gets really hot and likes to strip down to his boxer shorts and hey, you’re not going to stop him

୨୧ you think it’s cute how he pulls his clothes off as if they’re constricting him, carelessly throwing them across the room knowing he’ll probably trip over his jeans later

♡ sometimes you’ll strip down with him which makes him super smiley <3

୨୧ you’ll lay shoulder to shoulder on the bend just in your underwear, listening to one of his burned CDs as his hand traces just above your underwear line ( his fingers sometimes dipping under if you give him the okay )

♡ before long, you guys get super drowsy and lay back in bed, your head immediately taking its place back on his chest as he pets your hair

୨୧ you two always get the best sleep after getting high and when you wake up, bedsheets are always so crumpled up

♡ arghhh i wanna get high and cuddle with him so bad…

#brandon mayhew x reader #badger x reader #breaking bad x reader #bb x reader #breaking bad headcanons #bb headcanons #fluff headcanons #headcanons

17 notes · View notes

barmadumet · 1 year

Text

Ahsoka Episode 5 Spoilers Below!

Okay, I’m going to do something I never do, and I don’t think ever have done – I’m going to do the “take” thing – put my opinion online. I don’t like to do this, because I feel like there is ALWAYS someone opposed, and I just don’t want any bad energy revolving around my beloved escape from reality.

For the last twenty-two hours, I have been profusely hitting the ❤️s on other posts, jumping up and down and hugging people, and basically just doing the equivalent of shouting, “ANAKIN!!!” but I’ve yet to really try to discuss Episode 5, because, quite frankly, it’s just been too freaking emotional for me! I have all these feelings that I don’t know how to sort out, and I've honestly felt like I could burst into tears at any given moment, all day long. I went through this with the Obi-Wan Kenobi series, and I remember I felt literally insane for a WHILE. Perhaps, I should’ve written something like this back then – writing is my outlet, after all.

So, here we go. . . I don’t have many followers, and I know many people won’t read this, but I just need to get it out!

A couple of weeks ago, my dear friend, Wibz asked me, “What kind of story do you like? What kind of fic do you like to read?” I replied sappy, mushy, hurt/comfort, of course. I told her I like dialogue – dealing with emotional ups and downs - HEALING. I told her I liked fix-its and time travel, and I specifically said I like seeing into ‘what could’ve been’ scenarios, and I mentioned by name the movie, “It’s A Wonderful Life.” And the thing I really love about that movie is the ability to visit the past. I like stories that take us back – and not just as a flashback, but a present character being able to look at their past and reflect. You probably know where this is going by now, but the way we finally got our long-awaited Clone Wars ‘flashback’ couldn’t have been more perfect in my opinion.

And the thing that has made me the most emotional through all of this was simply seeing that first battle in live action. I will admit, upon viewing the first two episodes of Ahsoka, I felt the show might’ve been better presented in Rebels animation. Well, I can now, happily admit I was wrong.

We saw the brutal beginnings of the Clone Wars at the Battle of Geonosis in Attack of the Clones, and we see the heart-breaking conclusion and the end of the war in Revenge of the Sith. My personal opinion is that we have been very fortunate to get a great show about the time in between, however; being short, animated (directed at a younger audience) episodes, there are emotional aspects that are rushed through and not fully explored. If you’ve read my insanely long fix-it fic, then you know that it carries through these Clone Wars episodes that I love so very much, BUT in writing it my own way, I was able to put in all the drama I wanted to see – the breakdowns, the tears, a deeper look into the trauma of fighting in a war. And yes, there have been some amazing Star Wars novels that do this, but again, seeing it in live action. . . seeing just how young Ahsoka really was, seeing her mourn the injured and deceased clones. Having her and Anakin address the fragility of life and getting to hear that conversation about it. . . Now the viewing audience has a grasp on just how bleak this time period was. I didn’t know how bad I needed to see this – a human turned Togruta actor conveying those destroyed expressions and defeated body language. The impact was more than I expected, and it wouldn’t have been the same in animation.

The other super tear-jerky part for me was the theme of ‘Live or Die’ ‘Fight or Die’ . . .I can’t let myself get into too much detail about this, but if you know me, and you know my story, then you know. Great. I’m crying again 🤷🏻‍♀️ This was just such a powerful message for ANYONE struggling in any aspect of their life, and it sincerely helped me to rise another day, and will be a continued reminder, probably for a while.

You all know how much I love Anakin (and Obi-Wan), and so much of the hype is revolved around his character right now, but this personal journey we find Ahsoka on is truly beautiful to me. I was honestly uneasy about the way Ahsoka was portrayed, thus far, in our other series. She didn’t feel like Ahsoka to me. I accepted and understood that her character had been through much in her short life, and that much time had passed since we last saw her and she would've evolved, but overall, I honestly (😬) didn’t much enjoy what we got of her in live action. I kept my expectations for this show at the minimum. I try not to predict what might happen in canon Star Wars, because I never want to set myself up for disappointment. I strive to go in with an open mind and a clear head and just enjoy the show. But I’ll admit, I was hopeful for Ahsoka’s character development in this. . . and so far, I find myself satisfied. It has now been acknowledged how severely Anakin’s turn impacted her – that was a necessity in my opinion, because of course it did. And it’s still unfathomable to me, but I feel like we got to witness her getting her closure with Anakin 😭 At the end of episode 5, I was finally getting the Ahsoka vibes I was longing for. And let’s not ignore just how ’Ahsoka’ she was in the past scenes with Anakin! I was in awe of how her different animated fighting stances over the years translated into live action. It was her! And this is probably a great time to also mention: that was Anakin, too! In the beginning, we saw him on that World Between Worlds walkway training Ahsoka – the orchestrated footwork, the lack of aggression . . . It felt like the Anakin we see in the lightsaber kata training video Ahsoka watches in Rebels! We have not seen this in live action! We have not seen Anakin as a Master to an apprentice! 🥹 And again, I didn’t know how bad I needed that. Later, when we are taken back onto that WBW walkway, we see him fighting like we’ve seen in Revenge of the Sith. It’s Vader! And he’s so pissed and intends to kill! I won’t spend too much time gushing the way most already have – the Sith eyes, the flawless ROTS attire we already loved given back to us, and the Clone Wars look brought to life. . . the hair 😍 Just seeing him, Hayden Anakin, fight in a Clone Wars battle in live action! So strong and mighty 💪🏻 with such determination and sensitivity. . . with just the right amount of cockiness 😉 He’s perfection. And I think this is noncontroversial opinion everyone would agree with lol.

And maybe you do or don’t agree with this part, but I feel Anakin’s appearance was 💯 open to interpretation, and I think that’s GREAT. This character means so much to so many people, and there is never a way to satisfy everyone when it comes to storytelling. Everyone had/has different opinions of how this should’ve been handled. Was Anakin a Force ghost? Was the entire encounter all in Ahsoka’s head? Was Anakin something else entirely? Was he Vader? Maybe you have an answer to this question and you are certain in your theory – that’s awesome. I think that’s the way it should be. We get to “make things the way we want them to be” WITH CANON! 👏🏻 I am not yet certain of what my own theory is. I’ve watched it four times, and I am still processing it all. One thing for sure, I’m glad the WBW was involved. Again, if you know of my preferred way to ‘fix-it’ then you know what that means to me 🥰

I think I’m done 🫣 I just needed to release these feelings! And I feel we are so blessed. I still can’t believe this really happened. And I am so thankful to get to share in the joy with all of you 💖 Okay! I think I’m ready to talk now if y’all want to talk! 🤭

#ahsoka spoilers #a barma take?#that hasn't been done in the history of tumblr #hope you aren't insulted #this is basically a review I guess?#ANAKIN!#FEELINGS!#AHHH!#I love the feelings

28 notes · View notes