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junekissed · 10 months

Text

happy ending

member — husband!junhui x f reader genre — angst, fluff, hurt/comfort word count — 6.6k synopsis — a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time. warnings — female reader, planned pregnancy, there's a big argument but i tried to not make it too toxic (jun and reader have a happy & healthy relationship i promise), swearing, there is a happy ending lots of fluff !! notes — requested by anon — this has been sitting in my drafts for months bc every time i look at it i get shy and wanna change my mind but i'm proud of how this turned out so i'm posting it finally! i know pregnancy fics aren't everyone's favorite but this was honestly very comforting to write so i hope anyone who chooses to read can find comfort in it as well <3 also the last time i proofread this was like april and if i try to proofread it rn i'll get shy again and chicken out so if there's any mistakes pls ignore! i hope you enjoy :)

you sat on the bathroom floor, trying to comprehend the weight of the news you held in your hand. you couldn’t believe it. you could? you couldn’t.

after many months of trying to start a family with your husband, you had finally succeeded. the slim plastic stick with two tiny pink lines was the last piece of evidence you needed. it had been months of carefully tracked cycles, fertility doctors, and new positions that seemed too weird to actually do anything. but now, everything was finally falling into place.

you don’t know exactly how much time you spend sitting on the floor and staring at the pregnancy test; thinking, planning, and thinking some more. but when you finally stand up and place the positive test on the counter with shaking hands, it still hasn’t fully sunk in yet what’s happening. something you’d wanted for so long, and finally it was all right in front of you.

what do you do now? no— you know exactly what you need to do, and it’s a long list of things. the real question is, where do you begin?

you thought back to all the videos you’d watched over the last few weeks. somehow every social media algorithm knew exactly what you wanted to see, and it had given it to you in abundance; baby showers, gender reveals, those “get ready with me - new mom edition” videos. all getting your hopes up before you could confirm whether or not it had finally happened.

with your hopes high and expectations even higher, you were already beginning to plan how you would break the news to junhui. as your husband and your soon-to-be baby’s father, of course you wanted him to be the very first person to know, so you couldn’t wait too long to tell him. you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

maybe you’d get a little gift box and give the test to him before dinner. but, then again, it was literally a piece of plastic you’d peed on. surely you could give him… something a little nicer than that.

maybe you could buy a baby outfit and wrap it up for him. but you remembered he’d mentioned so many times about how excited he would be to pick out clothes once you got pregnant. you would want him to have the honor of picking out the very first one, going to the store together and looking through the whole section before finally settling on the perfect one.

what else was there you could do? bake a cake? make a crossword puzzle? buy him a t-shirt that says “dad-to-be”? so many ways you could do it, but none of them seemed perfectly right.

from the other room you hear the door opening, and hurriedly you stuff the test into a drawer, not wanting to tell him just yet. you need a plan first; waiting another day or two couldn’t hurt, so you’ll just have to figure out how to tell him later.

you flip off the bathroom light and stride into the hallway, barely able to contain the grin on your face. you’ve always been terrible at keeping secrets, and with news as big and exciting as this you have no idea how you’re going to be able to hide it from him for more than a minute.

but luckily you don’t have to wonder about it for long, because as soon as you see jun you can already tell he’s in a sour mood.

you know it’s usually best to let him have some time alone when he’s upset, but not for too long because he starts getting frustrated with himself and won’t stop working until he’s exhausted.

but you’re still on a high after everything today, so you decide on being a little bit sweeter to him in the hopes that your happiness will be contagious and that it’ll lift his spirits, despite what was probably a really awful day at work.

you find him sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, long fingers pressed against his eyes trying to block out the light.

“hey, junnie,” you call out, sitting down in a chair next to him. “bad day?”

“yeah,” he answers shortly.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you hum, putting your hand on his shoulder, but he flinches and your hand falls away in surprise. he’s never done that before. weird. you try something else. “um, any requests for dinner?”

“not hungry.”

“alright. well, i guess i can cook up some veggies and leave them out, you can heat them up whenever you get hungry.”

he moves his hands away from his face and onto the table, sighing as he leans back in his chair. “can you just— leave me alone for a while? i’m sorry.”

you nod and stand up. “no, it’s fine. i get it. i’ll bring you some tea later then, maybe. text me when you’re feeling better.” you reach out and gently touch his hand before walking away, leaving him alone at the table.

it’s definitely one of his worser days, you note, so you retreat to your bedroom to watch more videos on your phone, trying to bring back your excitement from earlier. hopefully later he’ll be more open and you can sit down and eat something, and maybe by then you’ll have come up with a good way to tell him the news.

an hour passes and you come out of your bedroom to look for jun, having a question from one of your friends about the dinner you’d arranged to have together next week. but he’s no longer in the kitchen, so you peek your head into his office room and find him exactly where you expect him to be, trying to work himself to death.

you clear your throat before you enter, not wanting to startle him again. “hey, junnie, i know you’re in a bad mood, and i’m sorry to interrupt, but—”

“what do you want?” he snaps, never turning around from his desk. just from the way he’s hunched over his computer, he looks like the most stressed you’ve ever seen him, and your chest tightens with worry before your brain registers what he’s just said to you.

“i— excuse me?”

“i said, what do you want?” he repeats, still facing away from you.

you resist the urge to glare at him, knowing he’s probably under a lot of pressure, and you aren’t trying to add to it. “you don’t have to be rude, jun. i just came in here to double check about next weekend, minghao’s texting me.”

he finally lifts his head, slamming his hand down on the desk. “i’m really trying not to snap at you, but— jesus, you make it so fucking hard sometimes.”

you raise your eyebrows in disbelief, your voice lifting in tone. “well, i’m so very sorry to inconvenience you then, but i really don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, jun.”

“and i don’t appreciate you talking to me like i’m a child! when will you get it through your head?”

his comment stings, but you brush it off. “well, maybe if you’d just talk to me like an adult instead of throwing a fit and hiding in your office then i wouldn’t have to treat you like one!” you’re starting to get tired of how he retreats in on himself every time bad shit happens. all you want to do is let him know he doesn’t have to do it alone, and he’s just… exploding at you for no reason, so you don’t try to hide the snarkiness behind your words.

he scoffs angrily and stands up, towering over you at his full height. “oh, grow up! you’re so moody all the time and you expect me to just put up with it! as if i don’t have enough other shit to worry about, i have to worry about what you think of this and that and everything all the damn time!”

you’ve never seen him get so angry like this, and it’s almost scary how completely different this jun is from the jun you know and love. “okay, jun, fine, i’ll just—”

“no, don’t fucking “jun, fine” me. it’s like you’re doing it on purpose at this point, you act like everything is just so perfect and then when it’s not you act like it’s your job to fix everything! you can’t fix everything!”

“i said fine! just forget it, i’ll leave you the hell alone like you always want!”

he pushes past you and crosses the room in two strides, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door, his hand already on the doorknob. “i need to get some air. i’ll be back later.”

you fold your arms over your chest, trying to look unphased but inside your heart is breaking. “you’re really gonna walk out like that? you’re just gonna run away from this? real mature, junhui.”

he spins around, and the look in his eyes is cold. “if i don’t get out of this house right now i’m gonna say something i actually regret.”

and in a flash the door is slammed shut and jun is gone. you can hear his car starting up in the driveway, and seconds later everything is dead silent.

you stand frozen in front of the door, unable to move. you can’t believe it. you can’t. what just happened?

jun has never just… walked out like that.

his words ring in your ears; though your argument wasn’t very long, a lot was said in a very short time and you can’t even begin to think about how to process it as it starts to hit you all at once.

say something he actually regrets? what the hell does that mean? so he’s saying he doesn’t regret everything else, the cursing and the anger and the pointed words that were clearly meant to hurt you?

minute after long minute passes and you realize he’s not coming back anytime soon. finally you drag yourself away from the door, dropping down on the couch in a daze.

there’s never been a time where you and jun haven’t made up immediately after an argument. sure, maybe you take a little bit to cool down in your own space, but neither of you like letting the tension sit unresolved for very long. so what was it this time that made him leave without even a goodbye?

so many reasons, so many excuses, so many words you could’ve said instead. you shouldn’t have reacted like that, you shouldn’t have kept it going, you should’ve just left him alone. would that have made him stay? if you’d backed down sooner and just let him work through it on his own?

despite all the what-ifs and the doubts in your mind, your conscience won’t allow you to let him worry about everything by himself without at least offering your help. you’re a team, husband and wife, and you’ll be damned if you let him forget that. maybe you trying to help actually made things worse in the end, but at least you know you tried… right?

it’s not until you check your phone and realize that jun’s been gone more than half an hour that you finally let yourself cry. you’d been so focused on worrying about where jun was and whether he was okay that you’d barely even thought about what might happen after this.

will he just… come back and pretend nothing happened? will he come back and still be angry at you? it would almost be worse if he was calm and acted like everything was normal. would he even apologize? would you even apologize? of course you would. both of you said things that were fucked up, and you’ll be the first to admit it if it means this whole thing can be over. right now all you want is to have junhui back.

the tears keep falling but you don’t even feel yourself crying, your face rigid as the tears continue to stain your cheeks.

after an hour you force yourself to get up off the couch and move somewhere, anywhere around the house to try and get your mind off things. but you can’t erase his voice from your head, the look in his eyes as he walked out the door and the way his shoulders hunched from anger mixed with exhaustion.

you find yourself back in your bedroom and you fall onto his side of the bed, wishing you would wake up to find that this has all just been a very bad dream.

it’s after 10pm when you hear your phone buzz on the nightstand and you sit up in a panic, scrambling to see if it’s something from jun. your eyes sting from crying so much, and you blink away the remaining tears as you unlock your phone with shaking hands. your heart drops even further when you realize it is, in fact, from jun, but not the news you want to hear.

you let your phone slip out of your grasp, tumbling to the carpet with a thud. when he’d said he’d be back later you had assumed that meant he’d be coming back tonight. clearly you thought wrong.

tomorrow seemed so far away; too much time to spend alone in a house that was supposed to be filled with happy memories, but now all you felt was pain. you felt it in your chest and in your stomach and in your head and everywhere. the whole room was suffocating, heavy weight crushing down on you from every angle.

you slide to the floor and pick up your phone. you don’t text junhui back. you’re not sure anymore if he’d even read your message.

instead you type in your friend seokmin’s phone number, listening to the line ring as you wipe the back of your hand across your eyes.

as soon as he picks up, he can hear the anguish in your voice and he’s begging you to tell him what’s wrong, but all you can muster up is a soft, “can i stay with you tonight?” because you can’t bear to be in this house another second without junhui.

and of course he says yes, and of course he’s immediately on his way over to pick you up. and of course he stops at mcdonald’s on the way back to his house to buy you something to eat, because you haven’t eaten and even though you don’t particularly have much of an appetite right now, seokmin would rather die than let you skip a meal, especially on a night like tonight when you could really use something to keep you going.

you throw your overnight bag on the floor of seokmin’s living room with a small sigh. in a haze you’d tossed in whatever items you thought you might need; a toothbrush, pajamas, something to wash your face with.

he gives you space for a while as he pulls out the folding bed part of the couch and brings out blankets and pillows for you to sleep with. you don’t say it, but you really appreciate his help. he’s been one of your best friends for so long, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

you hadn’t thought about it while you were packing, but as you stand in seokmin’s bathroom you think about the cleanser you’d grabbed; your favorite one, the one jun had gotten you for your birthday last year and you’d never switched to another brand since.

every single thing reminds you of him, and you push down a fresh wave of emotion as you scrub the foam into your skin, trying to wash away all your tears.

when you’re done getting ready for bed you find seokmin in the living room with a pot of tea. he was just trying to help, but unluckily for him, he’d made green tea. it was your favorite… but it also happened to be jun’s favorite.

and this time you can’t hold back your tears, and seokmin is sitting wide eyed and bewildered, wondering why you’re crying over tea, but he doesn’t ask. he just reaches out to let you hug him, and you squeeze him so tightly you know it must hurt, but he doesn’t say anything, just lets you hug him as hard as you can and lets your tears stain his t-shirt.

it takes another half hour for you to calm down enough to talk. you’d spent the time watching whatever was on tv, not really paying attention and instead playing everything back in your mind. seokmin had just sat next to you, quietly keeping you company until you were ready.

“jun and i… had a fight,” you say finally, interrupting the commercial playing on the screen.

“i figured,” he says, offering you a comforting smile as he mutes the tv. “do you wanna talk about it?”

“i don’t know. there’s not much to talk about.” you take a shaky breath, remembering it all one more time. “we both said some awful things that we didn’t mean. at least, i know i didn’t mean them. then he just… left, and he texted that he’d come home tomorrow. that’s it.”

you don’t tell him about the pregnancy test. you’ve mentioned once or twice that you and jun had been interested in starting a family, but you’d never gone into detail about it and you weren’t going to now. you still wanted jun to be the first person to know, even though you didn’t know when that might be anymore.

you tell him about other things instead, about your day at work and your plans for the weekend. eventually you finish your tea, and seokmin retreats to his own room and shuts the door with a quiet click, leaving you alone in the quiet of his living room.

it takes you a long time to fall asleep, but soon your exhaustion catches up with you and you let yourself rest, physically and emotionally drained. at least the silence here isn’t as bad as the silence at your house.

across town in his friend seungcheol’s guest bedroom, jun can’t stop tossing and turning. he’s fucked up, he knows he fucked up, big time.

why did he leave? he shouldn’t have left. you had been absolutely right, he was running away from everything and it was stupid and dumb and immature. but in that moment all he could think about was what the next awful thing he might say to you was, and he knew if he had stayed for any longer he wouldn’t have been able to stop what came out of his mouth. he was out of control, and immediately he knew it.

not even the worst day in the world could make you deserving of all the things he said to you. you were the only thing that wasn’t bad in his life; even on shitty days like today, all you did was care about him. and all he did was hurt you.

jun barely sleeps that night, finally forcing himself out of the extra bed at dawn. he’d been too anxious to sleep, too frustrated with himself to do anything other than think about everything he did and wonder if you were okay without him.

he’d already gotten an earful from his friend last night, and he knew he was still in big trouble. the things he said wouldn’t just go away overnight. in fact, they’d probably gotten worse by leaving them to build up overnight, and again he’s kicking himself for ever leaving in the first place.

he packs up his things as quickly as he can, eager to get home and see you again. on his way out the door, he thanks seungcheol for letting him stay the night and he apologizes for bothering him so late.

“i’m not the one you need to apologize to. you better figure out how to fix this, jun.”

with a straight face he nods, bowing his head as he closes the door.

in his car, jun takes the long way home, trying to find an open grocery store. he knows it won’t make up for how he acted, but the very least he can do it buy you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

he walks through the aisles, basket in hand, trying to think of something else for you. maybe he’ll get the ingredients he needs to make your favorite dinner tonight; he hadn’t eaten last night, though you had offered to cook for him and he’d shot you down.

he feels another pang of guilt at the thought, remembering yet another kind gesture you’d tried to give him that he’d brushed off like it meant nothing. it meant everything to him, and in the middle of the frozen vegetables aisle he swore he wouldn’t ever do it again.

he’d taken you for granted, and he was so lucky that things hadn’t ended worse than they did. he could’ve said something truly unforgivable, or he could’ve even lost your relationship altogether. but he was still yours, and you were still his, and he would just have to work extra hard to make sure you knew how sincere he was.

he’d been a little worried that you hadn’t texted him back last night, seeing that you’d read his message but never responded. you were probably still hurt, and he didn’t blame you; still, he’d hoped you would say something back.

with grocery bags loaded full of ingredients for dinner and the special things he’d bought for you, the drive back home feels a little more hopeful.

he plans out everything he’ll do in the car. he’ll bring the groceries in and put them away quickly; it’s still fairly early in the morning, so hopefully you won’t be awake yet. he’ll arrange your flowers all nice in a pretty vase, and he’ll come in and wake you up with the best apology of his life and hopefully a really big hug. after the last 24 hours he really could use a hug, and he’s sure you could too. and then he’ll explain how sorry he is and how he didn’t mean any of it and then everything will be better again. yes, everything will be okay.

the first part of his plan goes perfectly. he sneaks into the house and when he’s met with silence he continues putting everything away, quietly so he won’t wake you up in the other room. then, he puts the flowers in a vase and with everything in place, he walks down the hallway to finally face you.

but when he twists the bedroom door handle, the bed is made and the room is empty. you aren’t there.

he frowns, leaving the room and poking his head into the bathroom, then his office. he calls your name loudly, hoping you’re just in a corner of the house and you’ll come out once you hear him. but no reply.

he goes back into the living room and sets the vase down on the coffee table, trying to think. you aren’t usually up this early, but maybe you hadn’t been able to sleep and you’d gone out for a walk, or maybe you’d gone to the store to get more cereal?

a sinking feeling rises in his chest, and he walks back into the bedroom to confirm something, sliding open the closet door to check. your overnight duffel bag is gone.

he ducks back into the bathroom to check something else. your toothbrush isn’t sitting in the jar like it usually is. he slides open the bathroom drawer to check one more thing, and—

his hand freezes on the knob, staring at something in the drawer that wasn’t there before. he’s not sure it is what he thinks it is, but either way there it is, clear as day in front of him: a little white piece of plastic, sticking out from underneath a tissue.

gingerly he pulls it out, holding it up to the light to see it better. when he sees the two pink lines he nearly drops it in shock, but he stops himself, setting it gently on the counter instead.

this is something special, something precious, and he knew he had to take care of it. you’d saved it for a reason; you could’ve easily just thrown it away once you knew the results, but you had kept it instead. were you going to give it to him?

he covers his mouth with his hand, still staring at the stick sitting on the edge of the sink. it was just a cheap piece of plastic, but to him it was the most important thing in the entire world.

he deflates when he realizes you’d probably been planning on telling him last night, before he’d blown up at you. if he’d been paying attention to anyone other than himself, he would’ve noticed your mood was happier than usual, your face glowing with contained excitement. he should’ve been paying attention.

there’s a sense of urgency in his stride as he dashes around the house, looking for any other sign of you, but it’s clear you weren’t there. there were so many places you could be, he can’t even begin to think of where to look. your parents, friends, family; hell, you could even have stayed in a hotel, alone and upset. he should’ve been there. none of this should’ve ever happened.

immediately he presses the speed dial for your phone, but of course– no answer. he calls again, and again you don’t pick up. he curses, resisting the urge to slam his phone down on the table in frustration. no, he has to stay calm. that’s what got him into this whole fucking mess in the first place.

he remembers that your parents are out of town on vacation, so you probably wouldn’t have gone there. you wouldn’t have gone to a hotel because you always lecture him about the importance of saving money “just in case”, so you wouldn’t have paid to stay somewhere. your sister is still in college and shares an apartment with three other people, so probably not the best idea either.

that narrows it down to one of your friends’ houses; seokmin, who lives a couple blocks away, or joshua, who lives on the other side of town.

he figures seokmin is his best bet, so jun takes a deep breath and finds the contact in his phone.

“what do you want?” seokmin’s usually cheery voice has an edge to it today, and jun knows he’s picked right.

“is she there?” he asks anxiously.

“she is,” he confirms, and jun exhales, letting out the breath he had been holding in. “but she’s asleep still. i’ll let her know you called.”

“wait,” jun adds quickly.

the line is silent for a moment, and he’s afraid seokmin’s already hung up, but finally he gets a response. “what is it?”

"can i–are you sure? please," jun pleads. if he could just talk to you, just explain what happened and that he's so fucking sorry—

“hold on,” seokmin says, and the phone goes quiet again.

jun’s heart is in his throat as he waits for a response, and he stops when he finally hears your voice. “hello?”

he breathes a sigh of relief. “sweetheart. i’m so sorry.”

you don’t reply, so he continues.

“i’m glad you’re okay,” he starts, trying to put the right words together. “i shouldn’t have said any of that last night, and i shouldn’t have left. i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry.”

“thanks” is all you say, and he hates how small and sad your voice sounds. it’s his fault you sound like that.

“i found your test,” he bursts out, unable to hide his excitement any longer.

“oh." you pause, swallowing. "so… you know.”

“yes, i do know, baby. i’m so sorry, if i had known before—”

you cut him off, your tone suddenly rising with anger. “‘if you had known?’ so you won’t yell at me if i’m pregnant, but you’re just fine with yelling at me when you think i’m not? is that the only reason why you’re even apologizing to me right now?"

“no— fuck, no, of course not. i shouldn’t yell at you, period. and i’m not going to ever again.” jun pauses for a second, rubbing his hand over his eyes. he’s done nothing so far but make everything worse. “i really messed up, honey, and i’m sorry. i can’t say it enough. but— please, come home. i don’t want to talk over the phone.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will away the tears that threaten to fall again. you don’t want to cry about this anymore. “okay,” you say finally. “i’ll be home in a little while.”

“thank you,” jun says, and the way his voice breaks makes your heart sink. you can tell he feels awful about everything, and you do really, really miss him.

“…i love you," you add, changing your mind at the last second.

“i love you, too!” he says immediately. “i love you, too, honey. text me when you’re on your way.”

“i will.”

he says “i love you” twice more before you end the call. you sit in silence for a second, processing everything before you stand up off the couch and head to seokmin’s room to give him back his phone.

"can you take me home now, please?" you tell him softly, and immediately seokmin stands up and hugs you, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"of course. let me know when you're ready."

half an hour later you find yourself in the front seat of seokmin’s car once again, this time sitting nervously in his driveway as he puts your bag in the trunk for you. you're still not sure if you're ready to face jun yet, but you know you have to.

reluctantly you unlock your phone and open your text messages with jun, your eyes landing on the text he'd sent last night that had gone unreplied. with shaky fingers you type out that you're leaving seokmin’s house, and jun replies almost instantly with a long string of heart emojis.

seokmin gets into the car and starts it, and you exhale and set your phone in the cupholder.

"are you okay?" he asks, turning to look at you. "because you can always let me know if you need anything. anytime, day or night."

"i'm alright," you say, taking a deep breath. "i'm fine. but thank you, seok. i really appreciate everything."

he smiles, shifting the car into reverse. "of course. it's no problem at all."

the second he hears the car pull up outside the house, jun jumps up off the couch, smoothing his shirt down anxiously. through the window he watches seokmin hand you your bag and close the trunk, giving you one last hug before he gets back in the car. he doesn't drive away until you're at the front porch, and with a deep breath jun swings open the door, before you can even knock.

you both stand there in silence for a second before he blurts out another apology. "i'm sorry," he rushes to say. "i'm really sorry."

you give him a weak smile. "can i maybe… get in the house, first?" you ask quietly, motioning with your free hand at the doorway.

"yeah, i— yeah, shit, of course," jun says as he practically jumps out of your way, holding the door open for you to walk inside.

you set your bag on the floor by the couch as he closes the door behind you. the sound of the lock clicking seems too loud in the uncomfortable silence that settles over the room.

"can… can i give you a hug? please?" he asks, and you stay quiet but nod.

he closes the distance between you in one stride and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you so tightly and holding you close to his chest. "i'm so sorry, honey. i didn't mean any of it. i promise."

"i believe you," you finally manage, your voice a little muffled from how he's pressing you against him.

he doesn't say anything more, just holds you and holds you, and it feels so good to be home where you belong. there's a lot that needs to be said, but for right now you don't need any more words. you're just glad to be back together again.

after a while you pull your head away from him so you speak. "i'm sorry."

"why are you apologizing? you didn't do anything wrong, baby. i'm the one that needs to be apologizing."

you shake your head. "no. i said some things last night, too. granted, not as bad as you, but…"

jun breaks out into a grin at your joke, and you feel your mood start to lighten. "…which is true. and i'm sorry."

"jun, you can stop apologizing now. i get it, you're sorry. you don't have to tell me a million times," you say, trying to laugh a little.

now it's his turn to shake his head. "well, i'm going to anyway. because i am sorry." you look away from him, feeling embarrassment start to boil up, but he continues talking. "i'm serious. i'll say it as many times as it takes to make it right."

you turn your head back to him, struggling to keep a straight face. "why did you leave, jun?" you ask softly.

he takes a deep breath, and still trapped in his arms you can feel his chest expand with the breath.

"it was stupid," he says finally. "i left because i didn't want to stay and risk hurting you more. but i realize i did that anyway, by leaving. i was just… i needed some air. but i shouldn't have stayed away, and i'm not gonna do that again. i won't do it, ever again."

"i just don't want you to leave me," you manage, trying and failing to hide the crack in your voice as you feel your eyes start to well up with tears.

he hugs you tighter and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, gently smoothing your hair with his thumb. "i know, baby, i'm sorry. i'm not going to, i promise."

you don't respond, but you know he's telling the truth. the last 24 hours have been hell for the both of you, and you don't doubt he means every single "i'm sorry" he's said.

"so…" jun starts, and you tilt your head up at him.

"so?" you know what he's going to say next, and despite the excitement you had yesterday you feel yourself dreading this part of the conversation.

"you're pregnant?"

you sigh, looking down and avoiding his eyes. "yeah."

he hums. "but you don't sound excited?" he asks.

"well, i was, last night."

"i'm sorry," he winces. "do you wanna tell me now and i'll pretend this didn't happen and i don't know about it?"

you shake your head. "no, it's fine. the moment's kinda… ruined, already."

he sighs. "yeah, i know. i'm sorry i ruined it."

"i said it's fine, jun."

"no, it's not fine," he says firmly. "it's one hundred percent my fault. this is important to you, and to us, and we should be celebrating right now. last night should never have happened."

"jun, it's in the past. it was messed up, but i forgive you," you say, lifting you head to look at him once more. "it's not a big deal. we're okay now."

"i just want you to be happy about it," he says with a sniff. "we've been trying for so long, and finally…" he trails off, staring at you with watery eyes.

you smile at him. "i am happy about it, junnie. i'm so happy, you can't even believe."

"did you tell seokmin?" he asks, and his brows furrow when you shake your head no.

"no, i didn't. i wanted you to be the first i told," you say shyly. "i knew you would want to be the first to know."

"i love you so much," he says, still hugging you. he's never going to let you go, never again. "do you know how far along?"

"no, i didn't go to the doctor. probably like two or three weeks, though, if i've been counting it right."

"wow," he sighs, a smile on his face as he stares off into the distance behind you. "i can't wait."

you watch his eyes, practically able to see the thoughts running through his head.

after a while he loosens his grip around you, moving to swipe at his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. "well—anyway," he starts, giving you an awkward chuckle. "i bought stuff for breakfast. if you haven't had any, yet. and i'm making dinner tonight, too."

before you can even respond his eyes widen, like he's just now remembering all the things he had planned, and he lets go of you, bounding into the kitchen. he returns seconds later with a huge glass vase full of flowers, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to hand them to you. "and i got these for you, too. sorry they're not the best, it's all the store had this morning."

"junnie, if this is the best the store had, then i don't think i wanna see their best," you laugh, holding the flowers up and admiring the dozens of bright blooms. "this is gorgeous, but you really didn't need to get me anything."

"but i wanted to," he counters, still running around the room to grab the gift bag sitting by the couch. "consider it an 'i'm very sorry' slash 'congrats you're having a baby' gift."

you set the vase down on the table next to you and take the bag from him, pulling out the tissue paper and crumpling it into a ball.

"i didn't have a whole lot of time to look this morning, but i found these," he says nervously, waiting for your reaction.

from the bag you pull out a miniature plastic hanger holding a set of tiny pajamas covered in little kitties, attached to a matching set of striped orange socks.

"i wanted to be the first person to get you baby clothes," he explains as he fidgets with his hands.

"i knew you would," you smile at him, setting the empty bag and the clothes on the table along with the bouquet of flowers. "and they're perfect. they're so… you."

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him back in for another hug. "i love all of it. thank you, jun."

he grins, rocking you back and forth in his arms and leaving kisses all over your cheek. "i love you too, baby. i missed you so much. i won't ever do that again."

"i know," you smile. "now… you promised me breakfast, isn't that right? because i'm starving. crying is exhausting."

he laughs. "no crying anymore. and i did promise you that, so tell me: do you want blueberry waffles, or strawberry?"

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#kflixnet #k-labels #🌃 : june.writes #jun fluff #junhui fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt angst #seventeen angst #jun angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #jun scenarios #jun x reader #seventeen x reader #g: seventeen #m: junhui #c: angst #c: fluff

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honeybcj · 4 months

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after getting asked about my domestic rosekiller hc, i couldn’t stop thinking about it, so i’ve compiled a list. i could add so many more, so if anyone is actually interested in this maybe i’ll make another heheheh

- evan actually really enjoys cooking meals for the two of them, even if barty is an absolute nuisance in the kitchen. always stealing kisses and slapping his ass. stirring whatever is in the pot and pretending like he knows exactly what he’s doing (secretly he does know what he’s doing, but he loves when evan cooks for him, and evan is more than happy to indulge him <3)

-barty is a stress cleaner! he’s not always tidy, actually rather frequently he outright refuses to make the bed or will forget to wash his dishes, but then he goes and has one minor inconvenience and evan will come home to the couch on the other side of the room and the pantry reorganized by the color of each item.

-save water, shower together. there’s not a single chance you’ll find either of them showering on their own. they say it’s for the environment, but truthfully they are just severely connected at the hip, and barty wants any excuse to see evan naked

-evan will (and does) steal the same hoodie of barty’s anytime he is cold. might as well be part of his closet at this point. and before they actually started dating, barty would go out of his way to make sure it was clean every time evan came over even if it meant forking over four extra dollars worth of quarters and dealing with the bitchy lady at the laundromat (i did, in fact, include this hc in like smoke behind glass)

-i have it on good authority that for valentine’s day barty tried to bake evan a heart shaped cake (vanilla with raspberry jam and vanilla bean frosting), but he fucked it up real bad and forgot the LITERAL SUGAR but evan still plastered on the fakest damn smile and told him he was proud of barty

-evan is the early riser out of the two of them. that’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy sleeping in. but he likes to get up early, even on his slow days, so he can make breakfast just for barty (this goes hand in hand with the cooking one). breakfast is his favorite part of the day, and he likes to make sure barty does eat in the mornings instead of claiming that an energy drink is sustainable enough to start the entire day.

-barty is the night owl!!! again, not to say that evan won’t stay up late, but there’s more of a chance for barty to stay up literally all night long because he gets distracted by everything around him. in that case, more often than not, he can be found scrolling aimlessly on his phone in bed with one hand while the other strokes lazily at evan’s hair

-on more than one occasion barty has gotten so fucking high that he gets on his knees and begs evan to take him through the mcdonald’s drive thru because he will die if he doesn’t consume a ten piece nugget and a large sprite. evan just laughs at him and always, always, always takes barty through the drive thru. somehow they always end up with more than what they came for, and barty always shares his fries with evan even when he’s cranky.

-evan is a stickler for following plans. time management is his thing even if it means literally pulling barty by the ear to get the fuck up or hurry because he doesn’t have time to wait around or play with barty’s antics. barty teases him relentlessly, but it’s all in the name of love because he secretly loves seeing evan all riled up like that man WILL get hard over the smallest of fucking things he’s that far gone for evan.

-even though barty tries, he can never steal anything from evan’s closet because his stupid waist is TINY and no pants fit over his hips and all the shirts in his closet look like fucking crop tops on barty which he thinks is hilarious and LOVES to point out to evan anytime he tries to weasel his way into one of evan’s shirts

-evan is weirdly into teeth like he WILL go through a whole process with barty every morning and every evening to make sure they brush and floss. on more than once occasion, evan has even convinced barty to let him floss his teeth for him because he just wants to get his hands on barty’s precious teeth.

-both of them are actually super sentimental even though neither of them will admit it out loud. barty still has the ticket stub from the first film they went to see together. keeps it inside his wallet for memories and what have you. and the one time barty showed up with a bouquet of godforsaken roses trying to impress evan, evan kept one of the flowers, pressing it between his big ass books until it was preserved and dried. he still keeps it safe between the pages of the book, opening it on occasion to just smile at the silly little gesture.

#rosekiller #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller headcanon #barty x evan #marauders

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redbleedingrose · 7 months

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What do the batboys do for hobbies in your opinion

Hobbies for Bat Boys!

Rhysand

Okay so to be honest, I feel like Rhys is constantly stressed out being high lord and having to make all these heavy decisions, so his hobby would be something super relaxing and something you wouldn't expect.

First off, Rhysie is such a fashionista, just like his mother. He is absolutely going out with you to pick out all your outfits for the season. You are probably the best dressed female in Pyrthian and it is all because of him. He goes out of his way to custom design outfits for you, often playing a role in hand tailoring dresses that don't fit you perfectly so that it fits you like a sleeve. He knows different styles that look amazing on you, even when you don't think so. All the ladies of Valeris follow your fashion sense, not knowing that it is actually Rhys who is the trend setter for the night court.

Okay, this is kinda out there, but!!! I feel like Rhys would also just love flipping homes. He didn't realize this until after the attack on Valeris, but when he began to help with rebuilding the homes that were destroyed, he realized how much he enjoys the intricacies of designing a home, and surprisingly, he loves the handiwork of it too. Maybe it is the Illyrian in him that finds satisfaction in building something from the ground up. Once the homes of Valeris are rebuilt, he is really bored and can't figure out why until he decides to create a vacation home for just the two of you, and then he realizes what he has been missing out on. Now, he likes to build vacation homes for you and your future children and grandchildren from the ground up.

Cassian

For our daddy Cassian, I think he would pull a fast one on you and be really good at baking. You would think for a big, burly, hunk of a male he would be into wrestling or training as a hobby, but I think he sees it as more-so a job than a hobby. It comes to him when its nearing your birthday, and he is tearing the house apart to find the old recipe book his mother used to create birthday cakes for him when he was just a babe. Finally, he finds it with all these recipes that have tiny handwritten changes inked into the pages, and he realizes that his mum poured her love into her cooking and baking. So he tries to do that for you. Because he loves you more than he can possibly describe. So he bakes a five tiered black forrest cherry cake, with marachino cherries he hand picked from Summer Court (which he had to sneak into and out of with the help of a certain spymaster) and fudge imported from the Autumn Court. It turns out to be the best cake you and he have ever eaten, and thus begins his journey as a home baker. Cass becomes extremely good at making pies, cakes, and macrons. He never shows up to a family dinner without some form of dessert. At this point, even Elain can't complain because the sweets he brings are just too good.

Another hobby that I think Cass would have would be going to nursing homes or daycares where he can interact with the elderly and little babes. He always brings a dessert in tow that has the children literally climbing on top of him. He listens to the stories that the elderly have for him, taking note of all the lessons that he learns from them about love and life, sometimes sharing the stories with you in the deep of night like the little gossip he is. And he likes to play games with all the little babes, encouraging them to join him outside so they can play hide and seek in the woods behind the daycare. Sometimes you tag along because the babes love story time with you, complaining that Cass doesn't show the drawings for long enough like you do.

Azriel

The shadowsinger is indeed a singer.

He spends a lot of time in his private office with you lounging on the couch nearby reading, taking the time to develop different song lyrics and hymns for you. It is the one thing that he inherited from his father that he is willing to accept, is his musical creativity. He likes to collect different musical instruments and uses them to create different toons that he will only ever play for you. Sometimes he puts on one male shows just for you, playing the piano while softly singing you a song that he wrote with you in mind. He could spend hours trying to figure out the different keys and notes that he can achieve just to formulate something that might put into words how he feels about you.

I think Az is also the kind of male who is really interested in learning dead languages. He would find this ancient book in the libraries beneath the the House of Wind, and could spend days if you let him, trying to decode the meaning of the books. He likes the phenotics and analyzing different poetry and trying to make sense of what fae in the past felt and thought.

To expand on the last point, Azzie is def the history buff of the bat boys. He loves learning about the history wars and times of depression in the past, and how the world came together to make something better. You think that he thinks it brings him hope, and teaches him lessons that he can't get from anywhere else. He tries to apply them as spymaster of the night court.

Plus his reading glasses make him look incredibly sexy so you aren't complaining.

Masterlist

What do we think the hobbies are for the Vanserra bros?

#rose answers #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanons #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand hcs #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian hcs #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel hcs #rose rambles

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biffybobs · 8 months

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Meet the bakers!

Mikaela lives in Windenberg with her husband Boris, and their dog Janka. She has a large collection of novelty earrings, and swears she once saw Paul Hollywood coming out of her local Greggs with a sausage roll.

Dale is studying physics at the University of Britechester. He loves baking for his dorm mates, and once bribed his tutor to give him an A+ with a particularly moist chocolate sponge.

Pierre grew up in Tartosa and now lives with his family in Copperdale, where he works as a High School maths teacher. A keen painter in his spare time, he loves making his food look a whole lot better than it tastes. Style over substance here we come.

Natasha learned all of her baking and cooking skills from her Grandmother, who she now cares for in a tiny apartment in San Myshuno. She is having the time of her life away from the city and just hopes Granny has enough leftovers to keep her going if she ends up never returning.

Charlie started baking literally 5 minutes ago. Did they make this cake? Did they heck. But now seems as good a time as any to learn, right?

And lastly Valentino is an adorable little shit with so many skill points he probably should win the Bake Off hands down but where would the fun be in that? Also he really hates garlic.

#ts4 #ts4 portrait #the great simlish bake off #nightmare legacy challenge #bakewell nlc 9 #valentino bakewell #nightmarelegacy

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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 5 months

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LOTR and The Hobbit NSFW Headcanons pt 2.

(y’all bishes hoooorrrrnnnnyyyyy)

Part 1

Pippin:

- loves when you ride him

- wants to grab and hold every part of you that he can

- forcing him to be a good boy in public and keeping him nice and hot for as long as you can

- whispering really dirty things in his ear in public but following it with a sweet kiss on the cheek so people just think you’ve said something lovely

- ass kinda hobbit

- sitting in your lap and playing with his cock

- “such a good boy for me” you whisper while he cums on your hand

- loves when you grab at his hair during oral

Merry:

- likes to be man handled but in a playful way

- exhibitionist kink

- sweet and playful caresses while he fucks you from behind

- his favourite meal is between your legs 😏😏😏

- will tell you how good you’re making him feel

- buys you pretty night gowns and aprons so he can watch you bake in them

- loves when you put on a show baking, bending over and sitting in his lap while you feed him the cake mix

- holding his face nicely while you bounce on his cock

Lindir:

- degradation and praise all at once

- make him cry! Make him cry! Make him cry!

- overstimulation is his favourite thing

- tie him up and make him cum over and over again

- will beg you to stop but that’s because it makes him horny

- if it was too much he’d use his safe word

- “please mistress, I can’t take it anymore, it hurts too much please!”

- wants to be pegged so badly

- will suck your strap

- it’s so fun to grind up against him and make him cum in his pants

- you do it on purpose but then you tease him about it and he loves it

- “did you just cum in your pants? You’re such a dirty little pathetic thing aren’t you, Lindir?”

- he goes so pink

Frodo:

- has a thing for human partners

- likes feeling small and taken care of but elves are too big

- loves him a squishy partner

- would live laying on your boobs or on your thighs if he could

- pretends he can’t do things like open jars or reach things but home boy gets horny when you take care of him

- playing with his hair is foreplay

- lots of whimpers, light moans and quiet pleas

- if you tug his hair however he’s screaming and eyes are rolling back

- he lives in your lap

Arwen:

- oral queen 👑👑

- could honestly live between your legs

- whispers the dirtiest things to you and yet it sounds like poetry

- talks elvish in your ear while sitting behind you and taking her time playing with you

- the softest dom in the whole world

- like is literally only dominant because she wants to take care of you

- passing you dirty letters while you try to read peacefully

- loves watching you touch yourself

- she won’t say anything but her eyes won’t leave yours or your body

- breathy moans

- loves having her nipples sucked

Meludir:

- sweet innocent boy

- surprisingly kinky but only in a proper relationship

- praise kiiinnnkkk!

- tell him he’s a good boy and he’ll just melt

- “oh you’re doing so well for me, baby, such a good boy”

- kinda likes being hurt but will need a lot more aftercare than usual

- likes being tied up and edged

- is into watching you get fucked by someone else but only if he can join later

- wants Legolas to join you but turns into a blushing mess every time you talk about it

- sit on his face pllleeeaaaaassssseee! He doesn’t care if he can’t breathe

- craves kneeling before you during oral

- wants to feel like your sweet little servant

Glorfindel:

- size kink!!! He’s a huge dude and honestly loves how tiny you are (you could be tall and still be tiny to him!)

- loves being called ‘my lord’

- you don’t have to thank him when you cum but he sure does love it when you do

- degrades you and praises you in the same session

- he likes degrading you and being rough when you give him oral but if he’s fucking you (especially from behind) he wants to tell you how good you’re taking his cock

- gives you very sweet names during very dirty times

- “you’re just such a sweet little thing for me” he tells you while your face is covered in cum and spit

- bounces you on his lap while you ride him

- lots of loud grunts

- rag dolls you around into different positions

- is either fast and rough or takes his time and worships you

- thinks both giving and receiving hickies is really hot and will show them off with pride

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mediumgayitalian · 8 days

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fic rec friday 17

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Drew Tanaka's True Love Connections by @buoyantsaturn

Will smiled. "I have an appointment next door with the, uh… Matchmaker lady?” He winced at his own awkwardness, trying to bite back the embarrassment he felt. “Well, actually my friend set it up for me, but-- Sorry, do you know anything about her? The matchmaker lady, not my friend, I mean. I’m just not sure what to expect, you know? I’ve never, uh, done something like this before.”

THIS WAS SO SICK I LOVED IT!!!!!! flowershop au with a twist oh yes ma’am. also im so pumped drew was in this every time i see her im like hello my love how are you

2. just desserts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

It’s just a cupcake, Nico reminds himself. Surely that justifies breaking into the infirmary at the break of dawn. or: nico's love language is baking and will solace gets a lot of cake as a result.

end note hate me GIGGGGLIIING. also i am OBSESSED with this author but i haven’t read the solangelo book yet so i haven’t read a lot of her stuff and i’m DYING to. this was as sweet as nico's baking fr!! i'm writing less of a note on this fic (altho i love it) bc the WORDS i have to say about the next one,,,

3. caught in the river of tears that i cried by @thegoldenappleofdiscord*

In all honesty, it was really for the best that Will didn’t think about all the strange things that sometimes happened around him. After all, his mama had more than enough on her plate already. He was a good kid, and it was best everything stayed as it were. (Though admittedly, the flock of flesh-eating maniac pigeons, men with hooves, and the growing darkness in his veins might just make this a tiny bit more difficult than he anticipated) or: will can only push down a part of him for so long (will has plague powers, but he's known it from the very start.)

UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN REESE PLEASE 😭😭i am genuinely so obsessed with this fic and the WAY everything is woven together....like fear is a driving force!! you can feel it!! this is one of those starred fics fr bc it Changed the way i wrote and characterized will. he is fr a character who has been controlled by fear his Whole life actually. of the world and what it takes from him. of the Fates that do not care for your fragile love. of the things they are forced to do. of the precarity of life. and perhaps most intimately and ardently Himself, and the abilities he does not want to have, the life he does not want to live. the parts of himself that do not fit in the mold he has Built for himself and Forced himself into. and this fic shows that so so beautifully like this story is Woven.....i think about it literally all the time it's insane

4. a handful of almosts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

He’d said it so easily: “Best friends don’t do that to each other, Will.” It had been a throwaway comment after Will decimated him in a card game, which was usually Nico’s forte. Following that had been a furious, “Besides, it’s war. Entirely luck-based. Winning this game doesn’t mean anything. Stop laughing – why the hell are you laughing?” He’d mostly been laughing because of Nico’s expression – eyebrows drawn tight, mouth twisted in an adorable scowl – but also because of the sudden elation pumped into him like helium. They were best friends – and maybe someone else would be hopeful for more, and maybe one day he'll pursue it (he did want it, had wanted it for a long time) but for now, he’s content where they are, sitting in Nico’s room and cursing at each other through a deck of cards. or: 5+1 of will solace being a pining loser

A HANDFUL OF ALMOSTS!!! WHAT!!! every once and a while u just hit a title that Hits u u know. like a handful of almosts. yeah. what a deeply poignant and tragic thing. how fitting for the pjoverse, a universe of people who are haunted by their almosts. god. and then to turn around and make this story FLUFFY?? MAKE IT THE CUTEST THING IN THE WORLD??? "will solace and his rose coloured glasses" REESE!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!

5. Damage Control by @nikkira

“I couldn’t save Lee. I couldn’t save Michael. I couldn’t save Silena.” “You saved Annabeth when she was stabbed, right? And Annabeth was kind of imperative to the whole saving the world effort. The people you save go on to do things and help people and save people. When you lose someone, you lose them. But when you save someone, you save a dozen more people.”

"i dream of the people i could not save. they're mad at me." oh i am UNWELL. ill i tell you. i read this line and had to sit down for a little while like actually. one thing about will solace is that he never stops punishing himself and no one got that like this fic nine years ago

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

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creedslove · 1 year

Text

CHOCOLATE CAKE BLISS 🎂

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel loves your chocolate cake and while he's stealing one slice of it you two end up having a conversation about that future that makes him insecure, so you gotta show him you mean it when you say you love him

(this can be read as a continuation of SLEEP BLISS 💤, SHOWER BLISS 🫧, MOONLIGHT BLISS 🌙, BABY BLISS 🍼 PART ONE and BABY BLISS 🍼 PART TWO, or it can be read as a one shot, it's up to you)

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of pregnancy but no pregnancy at all, smut (oral m! receiving), age gap, insecure!joel, out of character!joel, cute!joel because he loves chocolate cake

1.8k words

Joel grumbled when he went back to consciousness and didn't feel you next to him. He could still feel your side of the bed warm and your scent lingering in your pillow, but you weren't lying there.

He looked around and rubbed his tired eyes. He didn't remember how long he'd slept, but it felt like a lot, as for once his body was completely relaxed and there was no tension in his muscles. He smiled at himself as soon as he remembered the night before, how you'd told him you loved him and how after gathering courage he told you the same.

You had exchanged love words while he was inside of you, as his hot load was hitting your womb and you couldn't be more connected than that at that moment.

It was official, you were each other's and no one could change that.

And he also remembered what he thought when he was inside of you.

He still didn't know what was up with him, sometimes he did want to have a baby with you, he wanted to get you pregnant, he wanted to see you glowing with a beautiful round belly, he wanted to be up at night helping you with your baby, he wanted to sit down silently and watch you breastfeed your baby, hold the baby's tiny little hand and feel the tight grip around his finger, little eyes searching for Joel's, so the baby would know mama and dada were there.

And then he fell back into his senses and remembered how insane all of that was.

He was old. He wasn't just older than you, he was old.

He didn't have energy to run after a kid, he was tired, his body ached and his back killed him at least once a day. There was no way he could leave you with the responsibility of taking care of a child. Even if you weren't living a literal apocalypse, it wasn't a great idea at all. And he couldn't force you to go through a pregnancy without adequate medical care, what if you had poor health? What if something went wrong in labor? No, he couldn't afford that.

He got up and widened his eyes at the delicious smell.

Chocolate cake.

Joel didn't even remember how long it had been since the last time he had a slice of it. But even if it'd been ages, he wouldn't forget that smell and he could already taste it.

He ran downstairs, suddenly feeling excited about the perspective of eating a slice of it and couldn't stop thinking it was damn pathetic a guy his age being so happy at something simple as that, but you couldn't disagree more, he was so boyish, so adorable when he wrapped his arms around your waist and tried stealing a slice of it.

You laughed at yourself. Joel Miller was acting adorable.

You snapped his hand away for the third time and frowned "Joel!!! This is for the kids, I already told you!" You said and saw him chuckling

"you are going to volunteer at the daycare, there's babies there. Babies don't eat chocolate cake" he rolled his eyes.

You turned around and faced him

"There are toddlers there, don't play dumb with me, you know that. And if you out of all the people in the world love chocolate cake, what makes you think the toddlers won't?" You chuckled and pecked his lips

"Alright, one last slice and I promise tonight I'll bake one just for you" you whispered against his ear and pecked his neck gently.

He groaned and gripped your waist, you shouldn't be teasing him like that, you were a real bad girl for that.

He crashed his lips against you, needing you to feel how much power you had over him, but you broke the kiss and stroked his cheek gently, smiling at him.

"Can I tell you a secret?" You blushed and saw when Joel frowned softly, he nodded, curious to know what you hadn't told him.

His heart raced with anxiety, what if you were gonna tell him you met someone nicer? Maybe a younger guy who made the butterflies in your stomach fly like crazy.

No. He quickly dismissed the idea, why would you be offering yourself to bake him cakes like a good housewife and spreading kisses all over your neck if you wanted to be with someone else? Fuck, get it together, man. He thought to himself.

"It's just that… at the daycare there's a baby, a real cute one and he's got the sweetest brown eyes and curly hair and Maria and I joke he's your son…" you giggled "and I like taking care of him and pretending he is your son, it's fun" you bit your lips not sure how he would react.

Joel gasped and looked into your eyes.

"Do you wanna have a baby?" He couldn't hold back his tongue, god, he cursed himself for being pathetic, but he needed to know.

"No… I mean, I don't know… I never really thought of having babies before, I just thought it was a cute scenario because the little boy kinda looks like you" you explained and saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes?

"Why? Do you wanna have a baby Joel?"

He shook his head and looked down, scratching down the back of his neck feeling once again embarrassed about having that conversation.

"I don't… I mean, sometimes I do, but it's a crazy idea, isn't it? Bringing a baby into the picture is fucked up… I don't know, I guess I went soft because of you and now we're together it makes me wonder what things would be like if we were in a normal world, if I hadn't lost everything…" he swallowed hard "I just feel guilty because you are so beautiful, so young and you should be able to get married and have a family, you know… with someone suitable for you, someone appropriate"

You shook your head and held his face between your hands.

"You are this person, Joel. You are the most suitable and appropriate person to me, you are the only man I would ever consider marrying, and you are the only one that could get me pregnant. As much as it is crazy to bring a baby into this world, I would do it with you and no else… why is it so hard for you to accept that I love you?" You tilted his head and watched him look down.

"I don't know" he shrugged and didn't stare at you again.

You took a deep breath and pulled his head gently, kissing him.

"It's not our fault if we fell for each other. I know there's a lifetime that separates us, but I love you even if you're older and I know for a fact that you love me even if I'm younger, Mr.Miller" you smiled "I think we're being carried away with this whole baby thing, I think it would only make us feel pressured, but if it ever happened, I'd be happy" you told him and saw how Joel only nodded and pecked your lips before leaving for work.

You spent the whole afternoon thinking of your interaction with him, it baffled you how insecure he was. Whenever you thought you'd advanced one step with Joel it also felt you took one step back. You didn't care if he was older, you loved him and you didn't want to be happy with someone else. You were already happy with Joel, even if he was a dumb, stubborn cunt once in a while.

When you got home, you knew there were still a couple of hours for his shift to be over, so you prepared the batter for the cake you'd promised him, as you thought of a way to show him your love, your passion for him.

After you put the cake in the oven, you got rid of your clothes and stood only in your panties in front of the mirror, you wanted to show Joel love the best language he could speak.

When he stepped inside the first thing he noticed was the smell, you had actually made him the cake like you promised and he smiled softly. He shouldn't have been so coward towards you earlier that day, he shouldn't have showed you how weak he was, but at the same time you were the only person he could actually do that. He didn't have anything to hide from you, and he hoped you were the same for him.

"Y/N?" He called your name wanting to see where you were, but was caught off guard by your half naked presence.

You walked towards him in nothing but your thongs, he saw how your breasts moved freely as you walked, your nipples already hard at the chilly air. You couldn't help but smile at his surprised face, hugged him and kissed his neck, deeper this time, adding a small love bite to it and earning a groan from your man.

"Darling, I-" you cut him off when you unbuckled his belt

"I wanna get on my knees for you Joel" that was the only thing you said, because at that moment you wanted to be submissive, you wanted to exist only for him, for his pleasure.

So you did as you said and faced his crotch. With delicate hands you unzipped his jeans and pulled them down just enough to free his cock.

You loved how his size matched his entire body, being thick and long, your cunt always clenched at the sight of it.

You gave his tip a small cat lick, tasting his leaking pre cum at the same time your hand massaged his heavy balls.

Joel had barely been touched and he was already groaning in pleasure.

You wrapped your lips around his tip suckling on it at the same time you stroked his base.

Joel's hand gripped your hair tight, pulling your face closer wanting more of you. You were driving him insane as you were touching him but not enough for him to cum yet. You took a deep breath and relaxed your throat, giving him a small nod to show him you were ready for him to face fuck you.

And then Joel bucked his hips, fucking your mouth, loving how you took all of him until he came for you, and you swallowed every single drop of it.

He panted and helped you up, holding you tighter against his chest.

Joel sat on the couch, not bothering pulling his pants up but seeing you shivered lightly so he took off his jacket and placed it on you.

You kissed him, smiling as he looked at you with surprise and admiration, you curled up to him, never wanting to be apart from your man, you loved him with all of your heart and you'd prove it to him whenever he needed some reassurance.

_____

A/N: idk i love joel and I'm horny

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #tlou show #tlou fanfiction

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theferrarieffect · 8 days

Text

snickerdoodles, chapter 3: drifting apart, keeping in touch, a bar near-miss and a senior year surprise (4.9k words)

previous chapter here!

warnings: a bit more angst followed by fluff, the slowest burn (sorry)

chapter 3: let them eat macarons (or cake)

The cookies sit heavy in your bag, straps digging into your shoulder, while the foam of the orange headphones that have been on your head for more than an hour now squeeze your temples uncomfortably. But you don’t notice either of those things, because your eyes are glued to the monitors showing everyone’s track position, and your heart hammers in your chest not unlike the way it does when the anesthetist announces there’s five minutes to go before rewarming.

Oscar tries to negotiate Lewis in Turn 15, but even you can see that Hamilton pulls a dirty defensive move, squeezing Oscar dangerously close to the wall. The radio beeps.

“Man, Hamilton is trying to kill someone today.”

A chill runs down your spine. When you streamed the races from the comfort of your own couch, you hadn’t realized, really, exactly how fast these drivers go. But watching and hearing them take sharp corners at the speeds you take your car on the motorway when you’re hurrying to the hospital…Oscar’s right. He could kill someone. Literally.

There’s no way you could work for motorsport, at least not in a capacity where you have to come to all the races. But then, you feel a crazy compulsion to come, as if you need to be there, need to make sure nothing bad happens to him.

Lewis attempts to chase Lando down, but Lando, daring and hot-headed, doesn’t budge, and you cheer internally for the papaya team. Look at yourself. Already biased, already fangirling.

“Okay, Oscar,” Tom says into the radio. “You are within DRS, you can push, last lap.”

Your nails dig crescents into your palms.

Oscar edges the car near Lewis, tries to take the inside line…

…and Lewis swings wide, retaining his lead. Oscar crosses the line not half a second behind, P4.

You sigh with relief as he slows on his way into the pit lane.

“Okay, good job Oscar, P4, P4,” Tom tells him.

“Fuck,” Oscar’s voice crackles through the radio. “I’m sorry guys. Fuck.” True to Oscar form, even in rage, he sounds downright placid.

“No worries, Oscar, it was a tight race. Good drive. Lando P2.”

A heavy sigh. “Well, congrats to Lando at least. Good for the team.”

When Oscar extricates himself from the car and walks over into the paddock, you’re waiting for him. He pulls off his helmet, then the balaclava underneath. His brown waves point in every direction, matted with sweat, but his frown melts as soon as he sees you.

“I’m gross—” he warns, but you’ve already pulled him into a tight hug.

“Congrats,” you whisper into the rough fabric of his suit.

“This wasn’t the race I wanted you to see,” Oscar says, dully.

You pull away, but move your hands from his back, holding him by his biceps. “It was the one I got to see. You’re incredible. It’s like you become a different person out there, you know that? You’re just so…in your element.”

Oscar chuckles. “Too bad the second the suit comes off, I’m the dorky bloke who likes cookies way too much.”

“Funny you should mention,” you say, reaching into your bag, producing the snickerdoodles you’d gotten up to bake at the crack of dawn with a flourish.

You swear Oscar’s eyes just light up, and he pulls you close to him again.

The paddock is much more relaxed after the race, more disorganized. Papaya mixes with navy which mixes with scarlet, green, pink; you shake many hands attached to many people you’ll never remember, all the while searching for Oscar, even though you know he’s probably tied up with press. Luckily, Logan makes a beeline for you and herds you around, introducing you to more of the guys on the grid.

“Oscar’s being held hostage by Sky Sports,” he says with a grimace.

You grin. “I figured.”

Charles, equally as beautiful as his teammate—does Ferrari hire drivers or models?—presents you with a tiny, squirming golden puppy. “His name is Leo,” he beams, waving a diminutive paw. “Say hi, Leo.”

You nearly melt, stroking Leo’s head gently with two fingers, which is about the most you’re willing to do with a creature that miniscule.

“Ay, cabrón,” Carlos practically shoves Charles out of the way. “That dog is just his excuse to flirt.”

Logan rolls his eyes, stunningly reminiscent of Oscar.

Fortunately, only the Ferrari boys seem hungry for your attention. Pierre actually apologizes for Charles’ antics—”he ees so desperate”—oblivious to Yuki yanking one of his shoelaces and bounding away. Fernando fulfills your plea to witness one of his famous celebratory dances as Checo and Max roar with laughter. And you’re pleased to be able to tesitfy that Danny Ric’s smile is as blinding as they say it is.

“How’s trauma service treating you?” Logan asks conversationally as you walk back towards the McLaren motorhome.

You shrug. “It’s alright—” Huh. “Wait, how do you know I’m in surgery?”

Logan reddens, as if he’s accidentally revealed classified information. “Ah—well, I mean, Oscar talks about you a lot.”

Talks about you so much that Logan knows what department you’re currently rotating through?

As if he read your mind, Logan straightens up, clears his throat. “Suppose you weren’t aware.”

“Aware of what?”

“Of how…invested Oscar is. In your life. In you.”

Your heart begins to pound. “I mean, we’re good friends.”

Logan raises his eyebrows. “Nothing more?”

You shake your head, lips pursed.

He looks thoughtful. “What?” you demand.

“Well…nothing.” He notices your suspicious frown. “Okay, well, the way he talks about you, you’d think the guy’s a little nuts about you. Like, he’s not exactly the most chatty dude on the grid, but I swear if someone mentions a TV show, it’s suddenly your favorite show. And we’ve all learned not to ever bring up anything medical, or else we’re about to hear a whole ass lecture on how cool you are, how you’re a real doctor. And don’t even get me started on cookies, or cakes, or come to think of it, baking in general…”

You don’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or crawl into a cave and never come out. But now it’s Logan’s turn to appraise you shrewdly. “So…are you interested in him?”

Well, the cave option sounds pretty good now.

“No! I mean—I don’t—we’re just not like that,” you stumble clumsily. Is Logan Sargeant really interrogating you about your love life right now? “We’re friends. We’ve known each other for ages—”

Before you can continue to dig yourself an even deeper grave, Oscar mercifully emerges from the motorhome’s front doors. “Hey.” He nods at Logan. “Thanks for babysitting her.”

“Hey, I didn’t need babysitting—” you say, and then see the faintest whisper of a smirk on his face. You give him a playful jab in the side with your elbow.

“I don’t know,” Logan says innocently, “by the way you were wandering around, looking like a lost sheep…”

Oscar laughs, really laughs, and then you know Logan’s actually his friend, even off the track. That laugh is sunshine. That laugh is the crest of a wave on the Australian beach.

“Let me guess,” Logan says. “Lando’s already drunk.”

“He’s halfway to the bars in London,” Oscar chuckles.

“When are you heading to?”

Oscar glances at you, then back at Logan. “Actually, I was thinking of sitting this one out?”

“What?” you say. “Why? You should go celebrate. It’s an off week next week too.”

“You on nights this week?” Oscar turns to face you.

“Yeah, although I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you retort.

Oscar hums. “Welllllll…hypothetically, it’d be good for you to be staying up late, right? To prepare.”

You have to laugh at that. “Are you saying you want me to go to your team’s afterparty?”

Logan says nothing, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you, an infuriatingly knowing smile plastered on his face.

You imagine taking a few tequila shots—something you haven’t done since uni, really—and jumping up and down on the dance floor with a bunch of strangers. Logan’s eyes search your face imploringly.

“I guess I could go,” you say hesitantly. Oscar brightens. “But I’m not staying late, or going crazy. That’s all on you.”

“Deal,” Oscar says.

“Deal,” Logan smirks.

You’re not sure what you’ve just signed up for.

“Sweetie,” your mom says one day, “the almond flour’s about to go bad. Weren’t you going to make macarons?”

Yeah, with him, you think bitterly. “I guess so. Haven’t been baking much recently.”

“Not as fun without Oscar, huh?” your mom’s voice softens. You try hard to fight back tears, even though it’s been nearly a year since he packed his bags and left for London. You shake your head.

“Well…Nicole was asking about you. I think she misses seeing you too, honestly.”

Nicole? Oh. Mrs. Piastri—Oscar’s mom. You sigh, remembering all the times you’d walked over to his house together, balancing plates wrapped loosely in clingfilm, Tupperwares full of baked goods. Oscar’s little sisters crowding around you while you watched TV on the couch, begging you to let them braid your long, thick hair, which had reached nearly to your waist. You tug on the newly short, barely-skimming-the-collarbone ends now—another thing, you think, Oscar wouldn’t recognize.

“S’pose I could bring her some macarons,” you mumble, and your mom smiles.

It’s not as fun without Oscar, of course, but you get the job done, and forego the drive in favor of a walk. A perfect March day in Melbourne—crisp, cool, and dripping in autumn foliage. London must be cold and rainy. It certainly is today; you check the weather there before here every morning without fail.

Oscar’s mom answers the door almost right away—your mom must have given her a heads-up about your impending arrival—and immediately scoops you up into a hug. “You’re all grown up!” she cries, and you feel a wave of guilt, remembering your mom telling you that she’d noticed your relative disappearance. But Mrs. Piastri waves you through the door as if no time has passed at all. A picture of Oscar, no more than ten or eleven, beaming in a tiny racing suit and perched on top of a kart, stands on the mantle. It’s been there forever. You realize why you’ve been avoiding baking, avoiding going to see Oscar’s family—because they’re just more reminders of the fact that Oscar himself isn’t here.

Mrs. Piastri gushes over the macarons, calls Oscar’s sisters down to enjoy the bounty, and your chest aches a bit at how much you’d missed this.

“What happened to your hair?” the youngest one whines. You smile apologetically, tell her you’d chopped it off for track.

Then Oscar’s mom asks about your senior year, college applications, and you swallow. Actually, you’d applied in Year 11, having frontloaded an obscene number of classes, done pretty much nothing but study and build up your résumé and get applications together. Honestly, it’d been a pretty good distraction from…well, other things.

You remember how, right at the beginning of term this year, you’d squeezed your eyes shut as you clicked the button to open your decision, read “Congratulations! University of Oxford is offering you a place for Medicine in the 2017 term”, heard your parents shout jubilantly, felt your mom’s tears on your neck as she whispered how proud she was of you.

“Actually,” you say, “I’m graduating a bit early, and writing medicine at Oxford in the fall.”

Mrs. Piastri’s mouth forms a tiny O, which quickly morphs into a beaming smile. “Oh honey, congratulations!”

“If anyone could do it, it’s you,” she continues, and you blush at the compliment. “Oscar always said you were going to be a doctor, no, the best doctor—”

You freeze at his name, and she’s definitely noticed, because then she asks if he knows. You remember how you’d immediately reached for your phone, realized the only person who you wanted to tell was currently halfway across the globe, no doubt too busy with karting and his new school and his new friends for you to be so much as a blip on his radar. You’d called a few times, texted back and forth when he’d first moved, but they’d gotten sparser and sparser, until by the end of Year 11, there were hardly any messages at all.

You shake your head apologetically. “We’ve been pretty bad at keeping in touch.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it—he hardly even calls me,” she laughs. “He misses you, though, he always makes it a point to ask about you when he does call.”

Mrs. Piastri’s probably being diplomatic, so you just nod. But when you finally stand up from the dining table to leave, she tells you in earnest, “Give him a call, will you? I think it would really, really make his day.”

At home that night, you stare at his contact photo. In it, Oscar’s wearing one of your mom’s aprons, brandishing a piping bag like it’s medieval weaponry, looking goofy as hell. Maybe he’ll think you’re weird for calling. Maybe he won’t pick up.

Here goes nothing, you think, and click on the Facetime button.

One ring, two rings, and Oscar’s face suddenly fills your laptop screen.

Your hands immediately start to tremble.

“Whoa,” he breathes.

His voice is almost unrecognizable, no longer the reedy drone of a teenager’s, and his hair, no longer so cropped, dips in a smooth wave over his forehead. You had no idea his hair was wavy.

“Hi.” Your voice cracks; you clear your throat. “Been a while.”

“You cut your hair,” Oscar observes, his eyes darting around the screen, taking you in as you did him.

“Yeah. It was getting too hot for track.”

Oscar’s eyebrows fly up. “Since when do you run track?”

You shrug. “Since Year 11, I guess.”

“You hate running,” he says softly, and you feel a pang at the fact he remembered, and another at the realization that you’d joined the team because you needed something to take up your time on your newly vacant evenings. Then, louder, “I like it. You look…older.”

“Thanks. And I don’t hate running anym—well, I’m trying to like it,” you correct yourself, and both of you chuckle awkwardly.

“So,” Oscar says abruptly, all business. You feel a little prickle snake up your arms as he crosses his. “I heard something from a little birdie.”

“Whaddya hear?”

“I just—is it true you got into Oxford? For medicine?” His voice rises about two octaves on the last word.

“I—ah, yeah,” you stammer. Clearly, Mrs. Piastri had wasted no time in exposing you.

“Oh my god,” Oscar all but shrieks. You’ve never heard him this worked up before. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling suddenly shy.

“You’re excited, right? Why don’t you sound more excited?” he demands.

You swallow. “I am. Excited.”

“And why didn’t you tell me about it? I can’t believe I had to hear it from Mum.”

“I wasn’t sure if,” you take a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure if you’d care,” you finish, lamely.

Shit, you think, as the smile fades from Oscar’s face.

“Oscar—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say you don’t care, or that you’re a bad friend—”

Oscar looks down. You see him chewing on his lower lip, and for a second you think he’s going to yell, or cry, or cuss you out.

But he just hangs his head. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Why are you apologizing?” you demand, horrified.

“Because…it’s true. I’ve been a shitty friend.”

“No you haven’t,” you plead. “I could’ve—should’ve—told you myself. I just assumed you were busy, and that you had better things going on—”

“Exactly.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“If you assumed I was busy…” Oscar says slowly, “I was the one who should’ve reached out.”

You shake your head.

“I thought you were too busy,” he blurts out suddenly. “All I do is race. But you…you have so much. Top of the class, every club under the sun…you don’t have time to sleep. How could you have time for me?”

And even though Oscar’s face is marred by the pixelation of the screen, the red that rims his eyes isn’t lost on you. Too quickly, the screen isn’t the only thing blurring your view.

“But I—” Your voice cracks; you swallow, resolute. “Oscar. I’ll always have time for you.”

You think that in another universe, one where Oscar stands a few meters and not oceans away, you’d show him how much you mean it. Pull him close and breathe him in and hang on for dear life.

Maybe Oscar hears you anyway.

He drags his forearm across his nose, tries to disguise his sniffle in a laugh. “Do you still bake?”

“Not without you…but hey, I did today,” you quickly amend, as he quirks an eyebrow.

“You should start again,” Oscar says. “I’m gonna call you next week and you can tell me what you’ve baked.”

You open your mouth to protest, then realize what he’s said, how there’s going to be a call next week, and think it’ll be the longest week of your life. Might as well bake something to pass the time.

Oscar’s drunk. You’ve had a beer together, maybe a glass of wine with a cheese board, but you’ve never seen this Oscar, his hair sweaty and matted against his forehead, cheeks flushed from dancing and yelling over the thumping bass, his eyes a little glassy. You’ve been nursing a cocktail he’d bought you for the last hour, pleasantly tipsy, taking it all in.

Logan bounds over and plants himself on the stool next to you. “Why aren’t you dancing?” he gestures exaggeratedly to the mass of bodies undulating to the music.

“I’m old,” you grin, knowing full well Logan has you beat by a few months. His eye roll tells you he’s all too aware. “And I have a real job, remember?”

“But Oscarrrrr,” Logan drawls.

Your heart does a little lurch.

“What about Oscar?” you ask carefully.

“He wants you to daaaance,” he singsongs.

No way. Boy’s making stuff up. “I was gonna leave soon, anyway.”

As if summoned, Oscar shoves his way past a small throng gathered near the bar, stumbles up to you and Logan. You stick out an arm to steady him.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” you tease. “I’ve never seen you so gone before.”

Oscar grimaces. “Not that gone.”

“Good thing you showed up, though. I was just telling Logan I’m about to head out.”

He blinks slowly, as if you’d just woken him from a nap. “You’re…leaving?”

“I’m working tomorrow,” you remind him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan wink, slide out of his chair, then slink away to the mosh pit.

Oscar shakes his head, pushes his damp hair up his forehead. One strand remains stubbornly stuck above his right eyebrow. You resist the urge to brush it out of the way. “I’ll go too.”

“What?” you say, alarmed. “No. This is your party. Come on, Osc.”

“Then I’ll walk you out,” he says, and something in his voice tells you he won’t take no for an answer.

So you let him lead you out of the bar—although maybe you’re the one doing most of the leading, Oscar leaning on you, an arm wrapped around your waist. You try not to pay too much attention to the way his hand feels, gripping your side firmly.

The night air is cool, and you feel little bumps prick on your arms. You shiver involuntarily.

“Cold?” Oscar asks. Before you can respond, the arm around your waist moves up, wrapping itself around your shoulder. Another arm joins it around the other shoulder, two hands clasping together around your chest. Oscar rests his chin on your head, and you feel the heat radiating from his chest onto your back.

You giggle, a little giddy, maybe from the drink, maybe from him. “You make a great jacket. But I need my arms to call a cab, ya know.”

Oscar’s grip slackens, and you think he’s freeing you, but then he spins you around and suddenly, your face is buried in his chest. He smells like his cologne, intensified by the dampness of his shirt. “Thanks for coming.”

Your chest feels tight. “Of course,” you manage.

His eyes roam over yours, your cheeks, finally settling on your lips, and your heart hammers a painful staccato against your ribs. He slowly brings up a hand to your face, thumb lightly brushing the corner of your lips, index tilting your chin up. Your faces are mere centimeters apart.

He’s going to do it, you think.

But his shoulders sag, and his hand drops. You search his face desperately, wondering what he’s thinking, try to hide your disappointment.

“I’m drunk,” he says quietly. “And stupid. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. Not ten seconds ago, you’d felt like you were suspended in the air, before everything came crashing back down. Now you just want to…run. “You’re not. Stupid, I mean.”

Stupid. Kissing you would be stupid of him. He is drunk; anyone could be standing in front of him right now. Maybe he wishes someone else was.

Oscar’s lips disappear in a thin line. A shiny black cab rolls up to the curb.

The last thing you see before you turn the corner is Oscar’s stricken face. You bury your face in your palms, still slick with his sweat.

“A cake?”

“It was Nate’s birthday,” you retort.

“Oh yeah, and I bet Nate was so much happier to get your girly-ass flower cake over peanut butter cookies. I know they’re his favorite.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the pride in his voice at knowing your brother’s favorite cookie. “I’ll have you know he ate three slices at dinner last night.”

Oscar’s face softens. “In all seriousness, that cake looked pretty fire.”

“Thanks,” you say, blushing a little at the validation. You had to admit you were pretty proud of the orchids you’d painstakingly piped over the bottom of the cake—no cheating with fondant in your kitchen.

“How’s formal stuff? I saw some schools already had theirs. You’re going, right?”

“Nah,” you say, “it just wouldn’t be the same without—” You catch yourself just in time.

“Sorry, I think you cut out,” Oscar says. “It wouldn’t be the same what?”

“Nothing,” you reply hastily. “I just don’t really feel like going.” You picture him frowning on the other end of the line. “Do you have a formal at your school?” you attempt to change the subject.

He’s quiet for a second. “Yeah,” he says. “Same weekend as yours.”

Somehow, an image of him dancing with a pretty British girl materializes in your mind, and it prickles at your chest. Oscar would have no trouble getting a date to his formal—you remember the picture he sent you of him on holiday, tall, tanned, broad-shouldered, with the same grin that had so endeared you years ago.

Rustling on the other end. “Hey. Still there?”

You force yourself to snap out of it. “Yeah, sorry, got distracted.” Then, in as casual of a voice as you can muster, “Are you taking a date?”

“I dunno,” Oscar replies, his tone blasé. “Some of my mates are. I haven’t really thought about it.”

There it is again, Oscar asking the imaginary girl to be his date, her blushing and nodding yes.

“You should,” you say despite yourself. “Anyone would say yes to you.”

Your mom’s voice faintly echoes up the stairs, calling you down for dinner.

“Gotta go, Osc.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You tap the button to end the call, feeling a little like you’d just made a terrible mistake.

You tie the satin laces of your dress together behind your back in what you hope is a proper bow, fasten the straps of your heels around your ankles, and slick on a layer of lip gloss before inspecting yourself in the mirror. Not too shabby for someone who would rather be doing pretty much anything else than going to Year 12 formal with some strange boy and friends who are a lot more excited about it than you.

In the end, it was Jessica who had relentlessly begged and wheedled you to come, and you’d acquiesced, mostly to stop her from yapping your ear off.

But two days before formal, she told you at lunch that she’d found you a date.

“What?” you’d snapped. “Jess, I don’t want a date.”

“Please?” Jess widened her eyes. “I just think it’d be so much better for pictures, you know, if we all had a partner.”

You shook your head in exasperation. It wasn’t like you could do anything to change her mind. “Well?” you said, irritated. “Who is it, then?”

Jess smiled, a tad apologetically, mostly not. “I can’t tell you.”

“Jess! I swear to God—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she waved your words away. “I promise he’s not ugly and I promise you won’t hate him...you’ll just have to wait and see.”

You aim your phone at your mirror, and snap a selfie for Oscar, just like he’d asked. He was probably just waking up now...if he was actually awake. It was a Saturday, after all. And Oscar Piastri was not one to ever wake up earlier than 10am by his own will.

But this time, your phone pings right away.

Oscar You look great!! :)

And that’s all you need to feel a little better about this entire formal situation.

You descend the stairs cautiously. You can already hear your friends chattering downstairs with each other, interspersed with a few unfamiliar voices you assume are some of their dates and all of your parents. One of them sounds vaguely like Oscar, and you wrench your thoughts away from him. Nope. Not tonight. You know you’re just going to be miserable if you keep thinking about him like that.

Jess notices you first, and squeals. “You look so good!”

The other girls crowd around you, complimenting your hair, your makeup, your dress. You think to yourself that it’s fun to dress up every once in a while. Be something other than your everyday self, forget about physics finals and the looming threat of college and boys who are going to other formals a thousand kilometers away.

“Jess is right,” a voice says behind you.

You whirl around.

Oscar is standing there, dressed in a black suit, the blush pink of his tie matching your dress, grinning from ear to ear. He’s holding a little box with a corsage inside of it.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

So you just launch yourself at him instead.

Oscar drops the box, picks you up by the waist as easily as if he was picking up his backpack, and spins around once, twice. Some of the guys whoop, and you can’t help but giggle, even though you feel tears on your face.

“What can I say?” he says, gently putting you back down. “Someone told me I should go...and that anyone would say yes to me.”

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, knowing your mascara is probably ruined for good.

“So,” Oscar continues softly. He bends down, picks up the corsage. “Does that apply to you too?”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “Yes, Oscar,” you laugh, “yes it does.”

Oscar beams, takes your hand, sliding a little bouquet of creamy orchids up your wrist. Jess takes picture after picture of the two of you.

The smile doesn’t leave his face for the rest of the night, not as you cram into the backseat of one of your friends’ minivans, not as you jump up and down to the music at formal, not even as he passes out from the travel-induced exhaustion on the ride back.

You’re pretty sure it doesn’t leave yours, either.

taglist: @sideboobrry11 @helloooobroo @fangirl125reader

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #snickerdoodles

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lowkeyrobin · 3 months

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Headcanons for mcyt x reader doing a cooking/baking stream together??

I love your writing!!!

ooooo okay okay!!! yes of course bro ; also thank you!! I appreciate it sm 🫶🫶🫶🫶

MCYT ; cooking/baking stream

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, grease fires

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you guys were making lasanga

Garfield jokes every five minutes

there's pasta sauce and cheese everywhere

he's constantly screaming to the viewers because you keep slapping him with the lasagna sheets, cooked or dry

"y/n! help! I'm being assaulted with lasagna sheets!"

he stained his shirt with pasta sauce 💀💀

almost set the house on fire bc he somehow left shit in the oven before preheating it

you turn on music halfway through and it turns into a karaoke stream

"CALIFORNIA GIRLS WERE UNFORGETTABLE-"

TUBBO

what was once a nice cake baking stream turned into making your kitchen a biohazard

somehow, you both went on a spree dropping everything to the point the frustration got too much for you, and you nearly screamed, while tubbo was trying to joke around about it to make you feel better

eating the remaining batter after putting the cake pan in the oven was a must

"aren't we gonna get salmonella?"

"that's only for Americans"

"really???"

the next 40 minutes consist of karaoke and reading dumb tweets/threads and AITA Reddit stories

"no, you are not the asshole because you were accustoming to a customer's needs, the fuck?"

"fire the manager"

"if they could've I feel like they would've"

cake was a 10/10

RANBOO

you were making soup because you found a good recipe you wanted to try

you accidently spilled the broth and covered your legs in it

he cut himself chopping up the celery (very minor cut dw)

"cooking stream? more like we injure ourselves for two hours stream"

"cooking stream? I hardly know her"

very chaotic but very good soup

during the intervals where you guys were just waiting for things to cook, you started a hashtag on Twitter to ask you guys stuff

and you answered them while keeping an eye on the food

afterwards you guys watch TV and eat your food while still streaming

"normalize eating on stream 2024!"

FREDDIE BADLINU

you were making breakfast for dinner on stream

you had to go use the bathroom while the bacon was cooking and left Freddie to tend to everything for less than a minute

and he started a grease fire.

after he got it extinguished he kinda just stood there waiting for you

meanwhile chat was exploding with panic and laughter

"Hey, y/n, I don't think we're having bacon tonight!"

"What the fuck happened???"

luckily no damage to anything other than the meat

the rest of it was really good though, and the stream had enough action for tonight 💀💀

NIKI NIHACHU

you guys were making cupcakes

you dropped like two eggs 💀💀💀 so while she was getting new ones you were cleaning up all the eggshell fragments and the insides

you got the camera to show stream your fucking mess and someone sent a dono saying "butterfingers ass"

the cackling after that 💀

you're able to get them into the oven though

and while you're waiting for them to cook, you watch dance moms and discuss everything wrong with it

commentary youtubers? I hardly know them

she begins making the icing while you pull the cupcakes out to let them cool

10/10 cupcakes they're amazing

you guys had a pride flag theme so lmao

ALEX QUACKITY

you were supposed to be making pancakes as a little challenge

his are literally raw and he put chocolate chips from the freezer straight in them

"that banana isn't gonna help anything"

"how do you know that??"

flour is everywhere. it looks like a war started

you put to much non-stick spray on the skillet and started a little fire

but Alex to the rescue dw

he couldn't even figure out how to use it and almost sprayed himself in the face!

goes on Twitter later to update that your kitchen was completely fine but the underneath of your microwave is a tiny bit melted

you blame him every time after that 💀💀

"my microwave melted a bit because you don't know how to use a fire extinguisher!"

"youre the one who used too much spray!"

chat always sides with you, too 😭😭

FOOLISH GAMERS

you thought making fried rice was a good idea? wrong

he literally has no idea what's happening

"can you make the scrambled eggs for me while I tend to the vegetables?"

"how many?"

"they're literally on the cabinet"

chat clipping every single funny moment too

"is the rice cooker even on? holy shit you left it on warm"

"I thought that meant it was on!"

"dude you've used this thing before, how long did it take for you to cook it?"

"like, forever"

"oh my god"

fried rice 10/10

he's complaining about the vegetables like he didn't have like two hours to say something about different veggies

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #foolish gamers x reader #tubbo x reader

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featherandferns · 21 days

Note

It’s my birthday today!!!

Literally can not decide how jj would act about birthdays, what do you think?

-🍓

first of all - HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you have had, or are having, the best day! <3

(everyone wish 🍓 anon happy birthday right now or else no more JJ fics)

hmmm. I think JJ would definitely try his best with birthdays. Even if he doesn't quite hit the mark, he'd get brownie points for giving it his best shot.

His dad didn't ever care about his birthday. At the most, he'd get a rough pat on the shoulder and a grunted happy birthday, kid, or even a can of larger if his dad was feeling extra affectionate and perky. At the least, it would go unnoticed. Thankfully, the Pogues made up for the lack. They'd supply him with drinks and weed and cake, and would spend the day doing JJ-approved things. Those typically involved starting the day with a blunt and a beer, surfing at the break, fishing in the evening and wrestling around the campfire. Money being tight and all, gifts were few and far between. Instead it was more company. That was plenty for JJ. Just the acknowledgement that he was turning another year older was enough.

Besides, his birthday brought a looming sense of dread. He'd try and push it down, distracting himself with festivities, but every year that passed, he wondered what his future might look like. A prison cell like his dad, or casual alcoholism? A scrimping-and-scraping lifestyle, alone and isolated? Or a simple but cheerful life with his friends, perhaps even rich with gold gathered from John B and Pope's countless adventures?

That final premonition became stronger after JJ met you. Once you were around, the festivities altered slightly. Instead of a blunt first-thing, it was sleepy morning sex, with you doting on JJ like he were the first born king, and then a sedated smoke straight after. The joys didn't end at the bonfire: instead, it extended into the night, with you practically worshipping JJ in the bedroom. You also splurged out to get him a gift. Usually it was something handy, like a lighter or pocketknife, but JJ treasured every bargain buy like it was a Rolex.

Because JJ knew what it felt like to go without on birthdays, whenever it was yours, he tried his best to make it special. He woke you up with his head between your thighs. He attempted to bake you breakfast in bed (often consisting of burnt pancakes and luke-warm coffee). He'd be the first in line to offer to take photos of you for your Instagram, working overtime to get the perfect angles and lighting. Had to at least try and push his luck, sneaking a shot up your skirt, earning him a smack upside the head. Same as you, he scraped together enough money to get you a gift. Some jewellery or make-up that you'd been eyeing, unable to justify the price tag. If money was too tight, he fell back on his acts of service. Fixed the creaky door. Pimped out your board. Cleaned your busted-up car. You fucking loved it.

Whilst some things became birthday traditions, one very quickly did not. The first time you celebrated a birthday with JJ, he tried to bake you a cake. Note the word 'tried'. It was undercooked, to start. When he took it out of the cake-pan, raw batter leaked everywhere. He salvaged the baked sponge and made some horrendous contemporary art out of it. The icing was just as bad. Isn't it strange how similar salt looks to sugar? In wonky, wobbling hand-writing, JJ piped happy bithday, joyfully oblivious to the spelling mistake. And whilst the cake was completely inedible (like truly diabolical), you marked that as the moment you fell in love with JJ. Hell, when a guy bakes you a cake, you sort of don't have a choice.

So, JJ tried his best with birthdays, and you appreciated every tiny effort :)

#replies #happy birthday!#drabbles #jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

Something wasn’t right with the consistency of the batter.

Eddie had triple checked the recipe on the notecard in front of him and it was still wrong.

He tried not to cry out of frustration, but his eyes were stinging and he felt a lump in his throat anyways.

He was in charge of this one tiny thing for Steve’s surprise birthday party. It’s literally all he was asked to do: bake the cake.

He’d gotten the recipe for Steve’s favorite from Claudia at his own insistence that he could definitely handle it and it couldn’t be that hard.

Apparently he couldn’t and it was.

The batter was extremely water-y, definitely not thick like the recipe said it should be. It also was more of a tan color than a brown color, but that wasn’t even something Eddie could be worried about right now.

He was supposed to be done with it 20 minutes ago. Steve would be home from work in 30, and there was no way this would be baked and hidden and cleaned up in that time.

He’d fucked everything up.

What a surprise.

He poured the batter into the cake pan, resisting the urge to just pour it in the trash.

He had to see this through even if it did end up being the failure he expected it to be.

He’d call Claudia while Steve was in the shower if he had to; She was already prepared to help if needed.

He put the cake in the oven and waited.

He watched the timer slowly click down and the clock slowly approach the time Steve would be walking in the door.

He could always just say he wanted to try a new hobby. Steve always said he needed a hobby just for him to do alone. All his hobbies usually involved the kids or his band.

Baking could be a hobby. Probably not though since he couldn’t even get cake batter right.

He was startled by the front door opening.

Fuck.

“You’re early!” Eddie yelled as he tried to hide the recipe card, as if the rest of the mess wouldn’t give away exactly what he was doing.

“Yeah. Robin didn’t need a ride tonight.”

Steve’s voice was closer to the kitchen with every word he spoke and Eddie was going through either a panic attack or an aneurysm.

Maybe both?

And then Steve was standing in the kitchen, hands on his hips, suspicion written clear across his face.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Yeah, that’s good. Act normal. Greet him like you always do. There’s definitely nothing baking in the oven. There’s no dirty dishes in the sink and on the counter and…is that a mixing spoon on the floor? God, he’s a mess.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Steve snorted, amusement taking over instead of suspicion.

“Okay, but this looks like a big mess for nothing.”

Eddie watched as Steve walked behind the counter and took in the rest of the mess.

Dustin and Robin would be so pissed at him for ruining the surprise.

“Just felt like trying my hand at something new.”

“Uh huh. And that something new involves making every dish in the kitchen dirty?”

“It was a test.”

“A test.”

“Yeah. Just making sure everything works.”

Steve nodded once and then turned to Eddie with a smirk.

“Did you make me a birthday cake for my surprise party?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. How the fuck did he know about the party?

“What do you mean?”

“The surprise party that I definitely don’t know anything about but is taking place tomorrow at the Henderson home. I’m assuming this is what you’re in charge of.”

“How did you find out? I was so careful. God, Dustin’s gonna kill me. Robin’s gonna kill me a second, bloodier time. I couldn’t make the cake right, I couldn’t keep anything a secret, now the surprise is ruined and-“

Eddie was cut off by soft lips on his.

When Steve pulled away, he was smiling.

“I love you.”

“I love you too?”

“You didn’t ruin the surprise at all. Dustin did three days ago. He doesn’t know he did though, so please don’t tell him.”

“What?! That shithead threatened my LIFE.”

“I figured.”

“Well, the cake isn’t gonna be right anyways. I fucked it up.”

“Did you add flour?”

Eddie looked at the counter where all of his ingredients were still scattered.

“Uh. Is flour one of those?” He pointed at the sugar and powdered sugar containers.

Steve looked at them, then back at Eddie, then at the oven.

“Let’s get that one out and start over.”

“I knew it! I knew it wasn’t gonna be right! I’m so fucking stupid. I swear to you I followed the recipe perfectly!”

“Baby, it’s okay. It’s just a cake. You did kinda miss the most important part, but we can make a new one.”

“You can’t make your own cake! It’s a surprise party!”

Steve chuckled. “It’s not a surprise anymore. And it’ll be fun.”

It would be fun to see Steve in an apron, mixing ingredients together, getting flour on his nose.

Hm.

“Fine. But if anyone asks, I got it right the first time, and Claudia is in charge next year.”

“Deal.”

Steve sealed it with a kiss, and quickly started washing the dishes.

Their cake turned out perfect and Dustin was so impressed that Eddie not only managed to keep the party a secret, but also make a perfect cake, he told him he could be in charge of next year’s party altogether.

Eddie smirked but went along with it.

Steve never had a surprise party again. Eddie got his help making the cake every year.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #tumblr drabbles #stranger things #domestic fluff #baking is a love language to me #I believe that this is actually canon and just happens off screen in season 5 when everyone is alive and well

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eganeyes · 2 months

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indulgent domestic modern!au clegan headcanons for the soul:

they're both really good in the kitchen!! i see them both as well functioning adults ngl so they both do the cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc working together like a well oiled machine.

bucky's more of the savory cook out of the two of them—I've been so into tinned fish talk on tiktok lately and been busy imagining this man just doing easy recipes for dinner and lunches. he likes making donburi, the air-fryer is his best friend, a risotto recipe he stole from benny's mom, wine marinated steaks, etc. he's the type to have to be in action to be calm so it's pretty common to see him running around the kitchen doing like six things at once.

buck's more of a baker, he has a sourdough starter on the counter and in the refrigerator bucky stays far, far away from. he makes the bread bucky uses for avocado toast breakfasts, cupcakes he shares liberally, dog friendly peanut butter cookies he made specifically for meatball, etc. rolling and smacking thick dough is like a stress reliever for him, so nearing the anniversary of him finally leaving his childhood house, the oven is on near 24/7 and the entire house smells like a bakery. everyone pops by now and then to take home some of the overload of baked goods and offer distraction in the form of chaos—at first by bucky's invitation but nowadays it's like an unwritten yearly calendar thing.

buck's usually in charge of breakfast. he makes fluffy pancakes more often than not, scrambled eggs on toast, always has two coffee pots ready for each of them because they go through it like its water. brady has made some very pointed suggestions on their kidneys, especially bucky's, but gets called out right back on the actual tobacco pipe he still smokes with in this day and age. if bucky wakes up earlier, he makes them avocado toast because he tried it at this hipster cafe as a joke but it's really not a joke anymore now.

they're both morning people it's revolting. when curt stays over he makes it very clear he won't be up before 9 the earliest and fuck them both if they try anything to actually wake him up. they wake him up. there's a guest room that may as well be curt's and his clothes are folded neatly in the dresser.

buck likes cantaloupe, so bucky regularly cuts up the fruit and packs them into lunch boxes for him.

brady shares the same birthday as meatball. so every year without fail, aside from his actual cake, bucky gets an extra plain cake with meatball printed on it with the words happy birthday meatball!! in large letters and a tiny (and brady) under it.

two of the shelves displayed in their house is just full of tchotchkes from all over the world from their adventures. yes there is concerning amount of unicorn statues. buck always looks moderately pained when someone asks about it. among them is a rock that tripped bucky up one random hike and somehow caused him to fall of cliff and get stuck in an outcropping of rocks. air rescue had to be called and he was an absolute nightmare of a broken ankle patient. again, buck always looks moderately pained when somebody asks about it.

they're hemming and hawing over getting a dog which the others find absolutely bewildering and when asked about it they both say its like cheating on meatball, which makes zero sense because the dog is benny's do not even think of stealing him cleven i swear—

they do get a dog from the shelter though!! they get a beagle. no really the dog is literally the bane of their existence they just had to choose the most exuberant 5yo dog with a powdered sugar face that's literally the antithesis of meatball. they name him tomato. benny despairs on how his dog isn't even really just his.

obsessed with the thought of them building their house by themselves like grey's anatomy's derek no hear me out architect!blakely helping them design the house and they have an open plan design which i kind of hate but the image of buck cooking in the kitchen yelling at bucky who's got his feet up on the coffee table oh

they go on these planned little adventures for dates and one of said plans is doing a pilates class together. hear me out: they both suck at it 😭. an hour in and bucky is literally stuck on the machine terrified of moving, he has cramps in muscles he didn't even know could get cramps. he looks to the left and buck is flat on the ground unmoving. they sign up for another class but bring curt into it thinking it'd be hilarious but no curt becomes the instructor's favorite within minutes. they sign up for another class in protest and bring brady and nearly kill the guy from sheer anger. their competitive asses work overtime and somehow end up getting instructor certificates just to prove they could.

the day they discover kahoot is honestly a mistake because when they host get togethers they do little presentations on what they've been doing since they last met and do full on kahoot quizzes and several expensive glasses are sacrificed for the worser worse. 'what was the shirt color of the lady photobombing us in that beach selfie?' and dougie straight up lobs his phone at bucky's face.

some extra casually possessive clegan hcs:

passenger princess buck with bucky's hand always casually draped over buck's closest thigh, absentmindedly playing with the inseam of his pants when they hit a red light

or: buck laying a hand on bucky's thigh to calm him down when some asshole cuts them off, or when bucky starts going past the speed limit, or just for comfort during a long drive

sitting thigh to thigh during breakfast/lunch/in the bar, sometimes even overlapping, buck's arm always around the back of bucky's chair

when they're sitting on high stools, bucky's leg is always propped up on buck's footrest

buck sitting on the only high stool available, bucky leaning by his side with an arm tucked around his hip

this pose of dua/callum insanity. squinting down on a tourist map of madrid for a random trip together, bucky's arms around buck with their heads bent trying to read tiny spanish lettering under the overbearing sun, buck tucking his hand into bucky's backpocket and tugging him closer like that'll help them find their hotel easier

some vacation fun: actually from this post I've added a few to and had brainworms on

the buckies go on a 7 day trip to somewhere with beaches and resorts and spa days and fruity little drinks with tiny little umbrellas and tell literally 0 people. they get ambushed on day 4 anyway.

in every beach outing thing, there has got to be a scene where they do each others' sunscreen. doing buck's, bucky purposefully leaves some parts of his skin unsuncreened on his back spelling out 'I SUCK' with an arrow pointing down to his ass. thankfully buck's blessed with perfect golden skin so he doesnt sunburn like at all.

buck brings a whole rack of books to read while sun tanning, a cute little folded table, cooler, bright towels for mats, and a rented umbrella setting up his downtime perfectly.

bucky leaves him to it for the first two hours because he loves the man: he goes to play beach volleyball with some random people he charms within minutes, saves a kid's sandcastle from being eaten by the waves and somehow ropes the kid and 4 other random children to build a giant fortress with a moat, accidentally step on a few crabs, takes hundreds of pics with other random tourists for some strange reason (they think he's a movie star and he does nothing to dissuade that), does karaoke near the beach bar with several equally enthusiastic drunk people, and pets every dog in his vicinity. he acquires exactly 9 numbers despite telling people he's very much taken, several insider local attractions added to his knowledge, and finds out the dirty sordid underground clubs in the area. all within 2 hours.

he comes trotting back to buck without a single hit to his stamina, and finally starts lobbying for a jet ski race.

in the two hours he was gone, bucky had flirted heavily with the jet ski rental managers, and rented 2 jet skis with a discount he refused and without an actual boating license but he's like really persuasive guys you don't get it. they do know how to ride it though because they're the kind of couple with a terrifying amount of qualifications in their CVs.

buck pretending not to be as competitive as his partner and hemming and hawing about going on the jet ski but the minute the race is on their trash talking gets so loud beach security has to stop by to calm them down.

buck leaves bucky with their kit to get some ice cream and comes back to bucky lounging on the mat. without pause, he kicks up sand directly on top of bucky and buries the man within minutes without giving the man the chance to defend himself from buck's onslaught.

buck sends the 100bg gc a pic of bucky buried under the sand with a coke right beside his head and a straw poking out straight to his mouth for easy access and it becomes the gcs new pfp.

the boys trace their location within days and on day 4 of their vacation they get ambushed in their hotel room and it turns into a big outing. jack scoffs at the buckies' itinerary and types out a new one for their entire group.

#a no pain day <3 #gathered all my eggs in one post so i could be done with them #mota #masters of the air #buck cleven #bucky egan #clegan #buck x bucky #mota headcanons #mota hcs #mota modern!au #just indulgence honestly #curt biddick #benny demarco #john brady #james douglass #jack kidd #this is literally just for me im sorry 😭#eganeyes

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