#at my phone timer as it ticked down and abruptly leaving when i had to log a measurement. i was basically a non entity while there. which | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

would you potentially write sirius wearing remus’ jersey? 👀 (i love your writing btw!!)

I sure can! I really hope Haz writes this in Vaincre, but for now, this is my take on it. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut and mild overstimulation

Remus heard footsteps approach from the hall and closed his eyes with a sigh. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it—

“Y’know, I don’t think Earth should qualify as a planet.”

“Fuck you,” he fired back, though it came out as little more than an incomprehensible slur around the hunk of plastic in his mouth.

“Really, I do,” Sirius continued. Remus took a deep breath through his nose and did his goddamn best not to bite through the still-soft mouthguard as it molded to his teeth. “Other planets don’t have life on them. We’re the only one. That makes us an outlier.”

“As soon as this thing comes out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Kinky. Anyway, have I told you about that article I read that talked about the moon landing?” Through the blood pounding in his ears, Remus heard the clink of a water glass being taken down from the cupboard. “Turns out the whole thing is a hoax.”

Remus dug his phone out of his pants and furiously typed out a message, cursing every higher power that he got stuck with that idiot as his husband. Damn you for being pretty. “Read,” he ordered, closing his eyes and holding it over his shoulder.

“I’m illiterate.”

“I detest you.”

“What was that? Sorry, I’m having some trouble understanding you.”

“Sirius fucking Black—”

Remus’ mumbled retaliation cut off abruptly with a soft huh as he whipped around, and his jaw fell open. Sirius smiled, easy as you please, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Yes?”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus whimpered around his mouthguard. A sly grin curled the edges of Sirius’ perfect lips upward; he quirked an eyebrow and turned in a slow circle.

“Fits better than I thought it would,” he remarked as Remus whined, desperately checking the timer on his phone. Two minutes and seventeen seconds. Shit. The golden number 6 on the back caught the light of their kitchen like a beacon—a sexy, sexy beacon that beckoned toward every atom in Remus’ body while he tried not to drool on himself. “Mine was a bit big on you, non?”

“Baby, c’mon. C’mon, don’t do this.”

“Should I take it off?”

“No!” Remus blurted, nearly spitting the mouthguard out in his hurry. Sirius shot him a teasing look and sauntered over, then braced his hands—his fucking hands, Remus was so gone for that irritating bastard—on the back of the couch and leaned over until their noses nearly touched.

“What?” he asked, quiet and yet low as thunder. “Cat got your tongue, Loops?”

Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sharp peak of his collarbone beneath a drape of red-and-gold fabric; he couldn’t wait to get his teeth on it. His hands only shook a little as he reached up and rolled the hem between his fingertips, sliding his palms up to the strong planes of Sirius’ chest, hidden by his jersey. A meteor could strike the earth, and Remus would die happy for having seen his name and number emblazoned on the most beautiful man alive.

“Are you going to take it off?”

Remus shook his head without looking up and skimmed a thumb over Sirius’ nipple, feeling a thrill race through him when his breath caught. “Gotcha.”

“Bummer about the mouthguard,” Sirius panted. “If you didn’t leave it to the last second, you could already have that pretty mouth on me.”

As if on cue, the timer went off. Sirius’ face went slack in surprise. Remus grinned, and carefully popped the mouthguard out, laying it in its case before yanking Sirius into his lap. “You were saying?”

“I will admit, I thought that would take longer to set.”

“So you decided to torture me?” Remus guided him down to his neck and felt Sirius shudder.

“I always torture you on mouthguard Fridays.”

He hummed, opening a new package as quietly as he could. “I think I found a solution.”

“Seeing me in your jersey?”

“No. This.” Ignoring the confused noise Sirius made when he leaned back, he slid the new mouthguard mold between his teeth with a sugar-sweet smile, making sure to highlight his dimple. “You look gorgeous. You’ll be sorry for it, though.”

Sirius’ brows pitched and he mumbled a word that might have been ‘kisses’ if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied.

“You’ll get kisses eventually. That thing’ll be done in ten minutes, and it better be perfect.”

Without giving him a chance to appeal his case, Remus pushed him flat onto the couch, set the timer, and settled between his thighs with a tight grip on his narrow hips. The first touch of his tongue to the outline of Sirius’ dick drew a deep groan from him; he saw Sirius’ next tighten and reached up to grab him by the jaw.

“What did I say?” he asked patiently as Sirius squirmed under him. The tension released, and he smiled, placing a kiss to the side of his mouth as he rubbed his palm along Sirius’ shaft. “Je t’ai, mon amour. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

In a moment of shocking foresight (which Remus was eternally grateful for), Sirius had chosen to wander about in just the jersey and his underwear. The fabric was already sticky when his breath fanned hot over it—Sirius closed his eyes with a soft sound and reached back for the armrest.

“Harlot,” Remus teased as he ran his hand along his inner thighs. Sirius huffed a laugh, but it quickly transformed into a moan as Remus pulled his boxers away and took as much of him into his mouth as he could.

“Oh, god,” Sirius said, clearly winded as one knee knocking against Remus’ ribs while his lower back arched. “Please, please, ngh—”

Remus pulled away with a sigh and took his jaw again, giving it a little shake. “Sirius. Don’t clench your teeth.”

A shaky sound slipped through; he stared up at Remus in a silent plea, but managed to relax.

“You have eight minutes left.” Remus rubbed his thumb in small circles over the head of his dick and watched his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Count if you want, but that should be good enough for you to wear.”

Sirius nodded, his breaths coming harder as if he had just run a race. Under his palm, Remus could feel his heartbeat pounding in his broad chest—he smoothed the jersey down, then scooted back to resume pulling Sirius apart thread by thread. He had felt that exact fabric almost every day for months and rarely found anything attractive about it, but on Sirius it was astonishing how fast his whole body lit up in response. He wanted to see him wear it and nothing else.

He pulled off with a soft laugh when Sirius put his forearm over his mouth. His thighs were trembling on either side of Remus. “Oh, baby, is that hard for you?”

A keening noise was his only response.

Remus kept a tight grip on the base of his shaft, sliding his thumb along the underside as he swallowed Sirius down and nipped kisses along his sensitive hips. “Relax, I’ll take care of you.”

He grinned to himself as a shudder rocked through Sirius’ whole body and more precome dripped over his lower lip. The clock on his phone read three minutes. Plenty of time to take him apart, Remus thought, slipping two fingers into Sirius’ mouth to stop him from biting down. He made a muffled noise of protest, but it was weak, and within moments he was putty once again.

“I don’t think it really matters which skate you put on first,” he said casually, bracing an arm over Sirius’ lower belly as his hips jerked. “And at the end of the day, superstitions are bullshit.”

Sirius’ eyes flared open in disbelief; he tried to retort, but the mouthguard and Remus’ fingers made him incomprehensible.

“Sorry, I’m having some trouble understanding you,” Remus mimicked. Sirius’ chest buzzed with an angry sound, but he just smiled and licked a long stripe up his length, laving his tongue against the spot just beneath the head. “And you know what?”

“Hmm?” Sirius managed, clearly frustrated as his hands flexed.

Remus pulled back and leaned over him. The contrast between the warm colors of his jersey and the quicksilver of Sirius’ eyes drove him wild, and he closed his eyes as he bent down until his lips just brushed the shell of Sirius’ ear. “Sometimes, if it was a really long day and I was tired and ready to go home…”

Sirius made a questioning noise and Remus bit down on the hinge of his jaw.

“I would sharpen your right skate before your left.”

Sirius froze. Remus sat back up with a smug look and took his thoroughly slicked fingers out; from the expression on Sirius’ face, he may as well have told him he burned down the rink. The slack-jawed horror dissolved into pure indignance in half a second. “You mother—”

For the second time in about fifteen seconds, Sirius was lost for words. He replaced them with a yelp that Remus prayed the neighbors wouldn’t hear, rolling his hips back onto the finger that crooked upward in a practiced movement. The mouthguard may have muffled his words, but it did nothing to stop him from moaning.

Remus redoubled his efforts as the clock ticked down the final minute—he had plans for later, but they would only work if Sirius was properly handled first. He finally fell silent, reduced to gasping and writhing as Remus worked two fingers inside of him and kept up so much suction his own jaw was beginning to ache. Finally, with a desperate little sound and a harsh grip on the couch cushion, Sirius shook to pieces, his stomach jolting as Remus stroked the underside of his thigh in soothing motions.

The timer went off a few seconds later, and he carefully pulled the plastic out of Sirius’ mouth. There were a few dents from his lower teeth and the back was decently mangled, but overall…

“Huh. Not bad,” he said, setting it on the coffee table. Sirius blinked slowly at him, his mouth still open and his pupils blown wide as he tried to catch his breath. “Alright, up.”

Sirius silently shook his head, never taking his eyes off Remus’ face.

“Yep, c’mon. You’re still wearing my jersey, and I need to thank you for it.”

A quiet puff of air left his lungs as his dick twitched. “I c—I can’t.”

Remus sighed through his nose and stood, then hoisted Sirius into a bridal hold and headed toward the stairs. “It’s a good thing I’m strong enough to do this, or else you’d have to get yourself upstairs all by yourself.”

“Re?”

He maneuvered so Sirius’ feet wouldn’t smack into the banister and smiled when a kiss brushed against his cheekbone. “Yes?”

“You were kidding about the skate thing, right?”

“Depends.” He nudged the bedroom door open with his hip. “Were you kidding about the moon?”

Sirius’ shoulders shook with laughter as Remus set him down on the bed and settled on top of him, bracketing his face and waist. His hands were warm and broad on his cheeks, pulling him down for a kiss at long last. Remus hummed into it; his insides turned to happy mush, and he began running his palms along the outside of Sirius’ bare thighs.

“You look fucking amazing in my jersey, love,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“You say that like you didn’t already know.”

Remus kissed the smile off his face, lacing their fingers and pressing them down over Sirius’ head—he stretched his back like a contented cat before shifting until he was comfortable. “I still think about that night, you know.”

“Well, yeah, we won the Cup.”

“I think about the way you let me push you against the door,” he continued, paying Sirius no attention as he mapped each curve and angle of his neck. After over a year of practice, he knew the best spots by heart. “And the way you looked at me when you saw what I was wearing. And when you held me like you were going to break if I stopped moving. I wish you could’ve seen your face when I begged you to let me come again. Remember that?”

The room was quiet for a moment, save for Sirius’ shallow breaths and the rustle of the sheets as he squirmed.

Remus pulled back from his neck and ran a thumb over his wet lower lip. “Hey. Answer me.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Sirius said on the tail end of a slow exhale. “Fuck. You can’t just say things like that.”

“You kept your hand right here,” he said, pressing down on Sirius’ chest with just enough force to feel his lungs hitch. “I might not have a badge, but I’ll figure something out. I think I understand why you like it when I wear yours so much.”

“Every time you wear it, we fuck, and it’s always mind-blowing. There’s no way I’ll be able to see it on you outside of bed.”

“I have the sneaking suspicion we’re on the same page with that.” He took the backs of Sirius’ knees in his hands and pushed until they almost touched his chest. “Hold.”

Through the grace of God, the lube was easy to find. Remus really didn’t know what he would have done if it wasn’t—he might have been confident on the outside, but his fine motor skills were sorely lacking and his brain was playing a loop of sexy boyfriend jersey sexy boyfriend jersey that he couldn’t even dream of stopping. Sirius made a series of cut-off keening noises as he opened him up, and Remus wanted to memorize the look on his face.

“Deep breaths, baby,” he soothed, resting a hand over Sirius’ heart when his legs began to shake. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh, god,” Sirius choked out, leaning his head back into the pillows. “Re, please—”

“Shh.” Remus moved his free hand up to hold one index finger over Sirius’ lips while the other pushed and pressed inside of him, skimming over his prostate in a random pattern that drew harsh exhales each time.

“I can’t,” Sirius whined. “Mon amour, I can’t.”

“You don’t need to do anything but hold.” Small white spots were appearing on Sirius’ knuckles as he clutched at his thighs; his dick was already starting to drip again. Remus slid into him and stifled a moan into his own shoulder, though he really didn’t have to worry—Sirius’ short cry would have covered any other sound easily. “There you go, nice and easy.”

Sirius blubbered out a string of incoherent words as Remus began to move and the mattress began to creak, but he was far too preoccupied with the way his jersey shone in the light of their bedroom and stood stark against the sheets in a blaze of red. Sirius’ smooth skin, so warm and flushed under his touch, blended almost seamlessly with the golden edges until Remus couldn’t think to do anything but lean down and kiss him. He responded eagerly, craning his neck for a better angle and pulling Remus’ lower lip between his teeth with a breathless moan. Once, he tried to let go of his leg and bring him closer, but Remus calmly took his hand and guided it back to the proper place without breaking stride.

“I need—I need—mon dieu, merde—need you, please,” Sirius panted, squeezing his eyes shut with a wavering moan.

“Je t’ai,” Remus repeated as he sucked a mark on the junction of his neck. Sirius’ whole left side went limp at the feeling. “I’ve got you. Christ, Sirius, you look incredible.”

A gasp left his kiss-swollen lips as he looked up at Remus. “I don’t think I can come again, Re, please—”

“You can. Color?”

“Vert, green, but—” He bit down on his lower lip as Remus held his waist in a firm grip. “I really don’t think I can.”

“I think you can,” Remus said, combing his fingers through the top of Sirius’ hair and giving it a tug. His whole abdomen tightened and his knees knocked together; it took Remus several seconds to get his breath back to the point where he wasn’t about to come on the spot. “I’m taking care of you right now, remember? If I say you can, you can.”

Sirius’ gaze was bright and untethered as he gulped—Remus gave his hair another pull, harder, and he shivered. More precome painted his stomach and darkened the hem of the jersey. His vocabulary seemed to be reduced to oh, fuck on repeat, growing slightly higher in pitch each time until he was just whimpering. “Re—Re, now—”

Remus caught his mouth in a slow, gentle kiss and wrapped a hand around him, not changing his pace until Sirius crumbled into a puddle of bliss and his shins connected with Remus’ ribs. He buried his face in Sirius’ sweaty neck with a sharp gasp and followed him over the edge mere moments later; he didn’t even try to catch himself as his knees slipped on the sheets and brought him down to lay across Sirius’ chest.

For a few seconds, all he could hear was their breaths and heartbeats. Part of him was tempted to doze off right there, but he rallied the last of his energy and peeled Sirius’ hands off his legs, pulling them down and out so they wouldn’t cramp. Sirius was staring at the ceiling in a daze; the jersey was rumpled and rucked up around his ribs, and Remus slid that down as well.

“Baby?” he said, kissing each of his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Sirius’ voice cracked and he bit back a laugh.

“Ça va?”

“Mmm. Très bien.” His arms were little more than noodles as he wrapped them around Remus’ shoulders.

“Come on,” he said after a bit, disentangling himself despite Sirius’ grumbling. “You did so well, but we still have to clean up. You can be the little spoon, if you give me a hand.”

“You’ll have to carry me.”

“No,” Remus laughed. “I barely hold myself up, are you kidding?”

Sirius cracked one sleepy eye open, then narrowed it. “Depends. Were you kidding about my skates?”

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #smut #mouthguard #jersey

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

Drabble: Olly Olly Oxen Free (baon)

Summary: Spring is on the way and everyone is excited for it. Well, almost everyone, some people are still healing.But that doesn’t mean cheaters should be allowed to prosper.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff,

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

It wouldn’t be accurate to call it spring yet, but the weather was improving. The snow was mostly gone, leaving the ground a sludgy mess that in only a few weeks would be ready to begin spring planting.

Edge was willing to wait for slightly warmer and less muddy days to enjoy the growing warmth; hopefully by then he would no longer need the walking cast. He was already planning a burning party for the damn thing that wasn’t entirely an excuse to show off the new kitchen he’d have by then.

Stretch, on the other hand, disappeared some hours ago, all but throwing himself outside into the cold sunshine. Honestly, Edge was fine with that. He loved Stretch dearly but enjoying a few hours on his own listening to his podcasts was hardly a measure of his affection. Once he was done with his TED talks and lunchtime was closer, Edge would attempt to track him down and spend an enjoyable hour listening to him chatter about whatever trouble he managed to find. It was something to look forward to.

A knock on the door came just as Edge was finishing dusting his action figure collection, making him frown. He paused the current podcast about why the free world needed satire and limped over to answer it. He was accustomed to looking down, Stretch and Asgore were rare exceptions, but in this case he was forced to look down, down, down, to see Toby, one of the neighborhood children, on his porch, looking up at him hopefully.

Edge crouched down to keep from towering over the boy. “Hello, Toby, what can I do for you?”

"Hello, Mister Edge Sir,” he said earnestly. “Can you help us?"

Edge frowned. "Of course, child, what's wrong?"

"We're playing hide and go seek with Stretch but he's cheating! He shortcuts away!" Toby’s scowl was filled with the pure, righteous indignation of a child whose sense of justice was being severely impugned.

With some effort, Edge kept his face straight. Solemnly, he said, "I see. That is cheating.”

Toby nodded firmly. “Can you help?”

“Hm,” Edge looked down at his foot, still firmly secured in a walking cast. “I’m afraid I won’t be much use chasing after him. However--”

He dug his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through the list of contacts until he found the one he was looking for. The phone barely rang once.

“Yes, good morning. I need a favor.”

~~*~~

Stretch’s clothes were muddy.

Not a little muddy, not ‘take your shoes off at the door to let them sit so you can clap away all the dried muck tomorrow’. Oh, no, he was the kind of muddy where he was spattered from his sneakers to his skull, the kind where Edge would take one look at him and tell him to teleport right into the bathtub so he could shower with his clothes on. Liberally decorated with a generous quantity of deep, dark springtime mud, still freezing cold from the ground it came from.

He loved it.

Spring was finally trying to sproing after what felt like an endless winter, and when the kiddos came to his door that morning to eagerly invite him to play hide and seek, Stretch was halfway out the door before he even had his shoes on.

The mud might be cold, there was still a chill in the air, but the sun was making a cautious appearance and if a person didn't mind the soppy ground, there were plenty of excellent places to hide.

And places to hightail it to when getting caught was imminent.

He’d been relaxing behind a nice gardening shed when he heard the pitter patter of little feet tromping their way towards him. Welp, that was his cue.

Yasmine howled as he broke cover, dashing away. He probably didn’t have the stamina to get all the way back to Designated Home Free, which was Oscar’s front porch, and he definitely couldn’t outrun Yasmine for long. She was an older kid and as a Bun, she was pretty light on her feet, but Stretch had a headstart and a shortcut up his sleeve.

“you wouldn’t have seen me if i wore my camouflage pants!” Stretch called back to her.

“Why didn’t you?” she panted. He could hear the grin in her voice. Best part about kids was they always appreciated a good joke.

“eh, i couldn’t find ‘em!” Stretch laughed and he heard her laughing through her groan, too close, she was gaining on him. “sorry, kid, time for me to step out, better hop to it next time!”

Or tried to, anyway. He got as far as, “Bett--urk!” when a cheery ting interrupted him. Stretch barely had a chance to see the bright blue light shine through the front of his sweatshirt before he was abruptly yanked to the ground. He yelped, struggling against gravity even as a small hand slapped him between the shoulder blades. "hey!"

Yasmine was already running away, giggling.

A pair of slender legs stepped up next to him wearing bright red converse high-tops, similar to his own. Unlike his, they were pristine, not a smudge of mud dared sully the canvas, and they were topped with long white socks pulled up to bony knees.

"My apologies!” Stretch managed to lift his head up to glare at Papyrus, who only beamed at him innocently. Yeah, right, like Stretch would be fooled by that? He’d never had Sans as part of his name in his life, Stretch damn well knew better. And it didn’t take two tries to guess who tattled on him to Papyrus, et tu Edge? Betrayed by his own husband, shameful.

Papyrus shook a long finger at him sternly. “It looked like you were about to shortcut which is certainly a violation of the strict rules of hide and seek. But I am sure I was wrong, you would never stoop so low as to cheat against children.”

“if using magic is cheating, then so are you!” Stretch pointed out, trying to hold back a grin.

“One good cheat deserves another!” Papyrus said brightly. “I will let you up if you promise not to teleport to achieve a state of olly olly oxen free!”

Hmph. He could wait for the timer on the spell to tick down, only as much as Stretch didn’t mind the mud, he hadn’t planned on wallowing in it. Plus, the damp ground was still pretty damn cold and he didn’t really want to turn this into a round of ‘who can turn the other person’s soul blue faster’. Wasn’t fair to the kiddos, it was only a two skeleton game.

“deal,” Stretch sighed. Sans would deny it to the sky and back, but when Papyrus had someone by the balls, he knew how to give ‘em a cheerful twist. It was obviously something the three of them had in common, ‘cause the moment the pressure on his soul eased, Stretch shortcutted over to Papyrus and slapped him firmly on the back. “tag! you’re it!”

Papyrus’s mouth dropped open in outrage, “YOU PROMISED!”

“you never said anything about being ‘it’, only about running away!” Stretch laughed, both hands held up as he backed away. “edge would tell you to work on your negotiation skills! hey, no touchbacks!”

Stretch turned and ran as Papyrus lunged towards him. Not that he was gonna win. Longer legs didn’t help much when the one chasing you sometimes flagrantly disobeyed the laws of physics. All around them the kids were laughing and cheering Papyrus on, the brats.

Nope, he was gonna get caught and he was gonna to catch someone else, and that was fine. He couldn't think of a better way to spend the morning than counting down to hiding and seeking on an almost-spring day.

Revenge against tattletales could wait until lunchtime.

-fin

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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imreallyloveleee · 5 years

Note

Congrats! I love your fics! My prompt is person A walks in on person B doing x. It can be angsty, fluffy, sexy, whatever you feel like!

Betty flushes the toilet, zips up her jeans, and stares in the mirror as she tries to remember the breathing exercise her therapist taught her to use when she’s feeling overwhelmed. Five seconds in, seven seconds out…or is it the other way around…?

It’s pointless, she decides. No amount of oxygen is going to make this any easier.

She lets her eyes rake slowly over her reflection as she stands before the mirror, the timer on her phone ticking away in silence. She looks so young, younger than 26; still haven’t lost that baby fat, hm, her mother had remarked a few months ago at Christmastime.

A year from now, would anyone even believe Betty if she told them she was a mother?

She might not be. She probably won’t be: not if the test says negative, and not if the test says positive. She can’t have a baby right now, with her defense of her master’s thesis just months away, and then the trip to Paris they’ve been planning for years, and a job search after that, and –

They can’t have a baby right now.

But what if Jug doesn’t feel the same way? What if he wants it? They’re young, but not shockingly so; they’re stable. The thought makes her dizzy. She sits on the toilet lid and runs a hand over the back of her neck. Her fingers come away damp.

And then, as though her mind itself had summoned him, Jughead walks into the bathroom.

“Shit, sorry –” He turns abruptly to leave, then seems to register that she’s not actually using the toilet as anything other than a seat. “You okay in here?”

Betty feels her face grow hot. “Um.” She falters, unable to summon the words, but he follows her gaze to the plastic stick sitting on the sink. She can tell the exact moment that his brain pieces together what it all means.

“Fuck,” he says. “How much time?”

Betty looks at her phone. “Three minutes.”

And then he bolts.

“Jughead,” she calls. He doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t move to follow him. She’s immobile, fused to this seat for the next two minute and twenty seconds. She doesn’t know what she wants. For this miserable wait to be over, mostly.

From the bedroom down the hall she hears the slide of a drawer, then a thud as it shuts. The apartment’s creaky wooden floorboards tell her that Jughead is returning, and fast. He slips through the doorway again, this time with a little black box clutched in his hands.

Breathless, Jughead drops to both knees before her.

Betty’s hands fly to her mouth. “Oh, my god.”

“Betty –”

She shakes her head. “Jug –”

“Wait. Just – I was going to wait for Paris, but – I need you to know that, that I want this no matter what.” Jughead swallows. His hands are shaking. “Marry me? Will you?”

“Jughead, you can’t do this now,” she wails, the tears she’s been holding back finally leaking down her cheeks.

He looks stricken. “But –”

The phone beeps. Betty slaps her hand onto the counter, not even bothering to mute the timer, and flips the stick over: Negative.

All of the tension drains from her body. She shows him; Jughead sits back on his heels, sucking in a deep breath. She drops the test in the trash can, and then brushes past him and strides down the hallway until she reaches their bedroom, where she collapses onto the bed, burying her face in her pillow.

A few minutes pass before he joins her, sitting hesitantly on the edge of the mattress. “Can we talk?”

Betty hesitates, then rolls onto her side so she can see him. “You just proposed to me while I was on a toilet waiting to find out if I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk about.”

She can’t help the tiny smile that creeps onto her face – it’s equally amazing and annoying how he does that, without fail, every time.

Jughead scoots back on the bed and lays beside her, face to face. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her neck, his touch so gentle it almost tickles. “I’ve been planning to propose to you on our trip,” he says. “And if you were pregnant, I didn’t want you to think that was the reason why.”

“I would never think that.”

“I know.” Jughead lets out a deep sigh. “I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t expect me to make a decision like that when I’m sitting there waiting for life-altering news.”

“I know,” he repeats, quieter this time.

Betty rests her hand over his cheek, mirroring his on her own. “It’s just a lot,” she whispers.

His thumb strokes her jawline slowly. “How long did you think you might be?”

“Only a couple days.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m…I don’t even know why I thought it. I’m sure it’s just stress.”

Jughead leans forward and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Can I help?”

Betty sighs. “I don’t know. It’s not as simple as like, having you feed the cat this week, or whatever.” She scrunches up her mouth, almost afraid to ask what she knows she has to. “Did I ruin your proposal?”

“Betts, no.” He kisses her mouth this time, brief but firm. “Maybe the surprise element, but…who cares.”

She bites her lower lip. “Do it at a weird time. In the middle of lunch, or while we’re on one of those big, tacky tour buses.”

“We are not going on one of those tour buses,” Jughead laughs. “I refuse.”

Betty giggles and shuffles closer, nudging her head beneath his chin. His hand slips beneath her shirt, running up her back, fingers toying lightly with the strap of her bra.

“You really wanna do it?” he murmurs, so soft she can barely hear him. “Marry me?”

She presses her nose to his chest, breathes in deep. “I do,” she tells him, “I do.”

#bughead #bughead fic #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale #i did not expect to write pregnancy scare fic...but here we are!#also this is the second time i have written a vignette in which jughead proposes to betty in a bathroom #in case you're wondering: i was not proposed to in a bathroom #i just really love the idea of jughead's proposal going totally awry for some reason?#anyway i hope you like this anon!#anon #fic #loveleee takes fic prompts

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fellintotartarus · 5 years

Text

i think we partied too hard

on ao3!

i'm obsessed with one night stand amy gets pregnant fics rn (literally don't ask why... shut up) I'm also VERY MAD about the green book win (it was a category filler?! roma deserved it shut up) so you get this, i guess.

Jake sat with his head on the table groaning. He had spent 29 hours awake, running on 2 hours of sleep, and he could not crack this case. Amy sat next to him in the same fashion, in the same situation.

After 29 hours of looking at the same case board, interrogating the same perps, and running the same routes, they were no closer to bringing down this mysterious drug lord. The clock ticked teasingly in the corner, reminding them of the time elapsing that they couldn’t solve the case.

All of the sudden, Jake’s head snapped up.

“Ames,” he whispered. “It’s the sister.”

Amy’s head shot up. They stared at each other before smiles crept onto each of their faces. They solved it.

—

That night, the whole squad went to Shaw’s to celebrate. They were waist deep in shots, pints, and, in Holt’s case, Charbonay. It was a sloppy drunk kind of night.

Four-drink Amy had come out to play. Terry tried to get another drink in her so that she would stop terribly winking at everything that walked, but the bartender had cut her off and was watching them with a hawk eye. They wanted to stay more than they wanted five-drink Amy, so they let her horniness run rampant.

Jake was not a heavy drinker, but this case closing was a cause for celebration, so he was wasted. He didn’t have a tiered drunkenness scale like Amy did, but after six drinks he was strangely flirty as well.

The rest of the crew was very weirded out by their gross and alcohol-fueled vibing, and they gravitated away from Jake and Amy into another corner.

Soon enough, Jake and Amy were sitting huddled up at the bar, steadily drinking enough to keep them at the “horny-drunk” level.

“Jake, you know something? You’re super hot. I totally would sleep with you, but I’m too much of a chicken to say that,” Amy slurred, poking his chest (surprisingly firm, she might add).

“Whaaaatttt? You’re the sexiest ever. Every time you wear that red dress it makes me suffer because I just wanna lift up the skirt and fuck you in it,” he breathed in her ear.

The conversation had taken a significant turn from playful flirting to very serious dirty talk, and it was reflected in their proximity to each other and their heavy breathing.

Amy moaned under breath. She took a nibble of his earlobe and whispered lightly, already grabbing her purse, “Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Jake stood up abruptly, nodding, wobbled a little bit, and grabbed her hand. They half-ran to the door, giggling the whole way.

—

The next morning, Jake rolled over to find the good lump on his mattress only to find a foreign bed and a warm barrier with its arms wrapped around him.

Confused, Jake groggily opened his eyes to find a very naked Amy Santiago sleeping peacefully next to him.

His eyes went wide and he gasped slightly, causing Amy to stir and open her eyes. As soon as she saw him, her reaction was about the same as his.

After a few tense seconds of just looking at each other with surprise, they simultaneously sprang apart and let out yelps.

Amy, realizing they were both naked, tugged the sheet over her body, leaving Jake’s (very nice, she had to say) body exposed. He gasped and grabbed the sheet and pulled it over himself, leaving Amy’s (extremely sexy, he thought) body exposed. It was a slight battle of tug-of-war before they gave up and starting mad-grabbing for their clothes on the floor. Amy found her underwear pretty close to the bed, but, holding her boobs in place with her hands, she found her bra in the hallway, and her pantsuit on the couch. Jake was luckier to find all his clothes in the bedroom.

They met in Amy’s kitchen.

“So we... uh...” Amy trailed off. She was visibly tense in the shoulders.

“Seems like it,” Jake laughed awkwardly a bit, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

A pause. Then, suddenly, laughter filled the apartment. They were belly-laughing, the good kind of laugh that left you aching. Tears welled in their eyes.

“Was I any good?” Jake choked out through laughs.

Amy stopped laughing and said seriously, “I don’t know. You were my first.”

Jake stilled. “Wait, Ames, really?”

A laugh forced its way out of Amy’s throat. “No! Oh my god, who do you take me for, a 30-year-old virgin?”

“Jesus, you scared me!” Jake laughed.

“Okay, well, I’m glad this isn’t weird and all, but I am majorly hungover and would like to take my day off,” Amy said.

“No, yeah, got it. I was just on my way out.”

They shared a genuine smile as Jake walked out the door.

Amy lay in bed later that night and texted Jake.

To: Jake Peralta

Isn’t it... weird that we aren’t weird?

From: Jake Peralta

not rly tbh. the way i see it is we have a funny inside joke now. also i literally remember nothing.

To: Jake Peralta

Yeah haha. Makes sense. Definitely don’t remember anything either.

The thing was, she did. Or, well, she had evidence. She woke up with the mat in her hair that she only got when she had sex in her favorite position, she had the good ache between her legs of being well-fucked with a big dick, and her clitoris was really sensitive, meaning multiple orgasms. She didn’t entirely like the conclusion, but Jake must be really good at sex. Gross (Or was it? her brain said). She wondered why she couldn’t stop thinking about it, until she realized that it was weird now. She had made it weird by remembering.

Or maybe it was the way he made her laugh like nobody else, or the soft curl of his hair flipped to the side, or his strong arms holding her as she slept away the morning.

Amy blushed and shook the thought out of her head for the millionth time that year.

At his apartment, Jake lay awake with memories flooding back. Jake had the rare gift of retaining memories slowly when he blacked out, and he had never been happier. Besides the obvious, Jake was mind blown that Amy freaking Santiago had given him the best sex of his life. She was such a nerd, it seemed impossible! Just remembering the night’s activities sent a shudder down his spine and warmth through his core.

But it also begged the question: was it just the sex? Or was it also the halo of light around Amy’s face when she laughed, or the way her hair shone softly, or her adorable hate face reserved only for those who had invoked a pure form of hatred from a cinnamon roll of a human (looks like a cinnamon roll, could actually kill you).

Jake wondered for the millionth time that year why he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was his colleague for Christ’s sake, his frenemy within the precinct. They competed constantly and bickered more than an old married couple.

Jake sighed, punched the good lump into shape, and fell asleep.

—

Jake and Amy’s work relationship hadn’t changed much at all, except now they seemed to have a lot more to laugh about. Every once in a while, they would be sniggers coming from their desks from a seemingly new inside joke.

The main thing that changed, however, was the way they looked at each other. Their glances would linger while the other wasn’t looking, and there was something unidentifiable in their eyes. It was soft, and it was absolutely torturous. The rest of the squad had bets on the outcome of this newfound grossness.

Jake’s deniable crush on Amy had spiraled into a full-blown infatuation. He thought about her constantly, texted her when he wasn’t with her, and even improved his life to please her. He cleaned every week, he sold his unnecessary stuff, and started chipping away at his debt. It was a goddamned miracle.

Amy found herself thinking about Jake too much for it to be normal. She always suspected that she liked him as more than a friend but was always able to tamp it down and ignore it. Not anymore, she thought with a sigh. Now it was like everything he did was the cutest thing. His smiles always sent her into a soupy mess, and every time they touched by accident it was like electricity running up her spine.

Then one day, a month after That Night, it became impossible to not think about him.

She woke up that morning feeling nauseous for the second day in a row. She violently vomited a few times and then lay against the cool bathroom floor, the cogs turning in her brain.

Idiot, she thought to herself.

After nervously checking her period tracker and seeing that she was a week late, she immediately called Jake.

“Hey, I was just about to call you to see if you could meet up for coffee before work. I wanna talk to you about something.” He sounded hopeful and groggy, like he had just woken up. But Amy was not concerned about that right now.

“Peralta,” she whisper-yelled through the phone. “Did we not use a fucking condom?”

She heard shuffling on the other end of the line. Then, Jake’s voice rang clear and awake. That obviously had gotten his attention.

“Ames, what are you saying?” he said nervously.

Amy pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled slowly.

“I can’t stop puking and I’m a week late,” she said softly. “Jake, I think I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Then, after a beat, “Okay. Get dressed and meet me at the CVS on the corner by your apartment. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Amy wiped away some stray tears and did as Jake instructed. She found him waiting at the entrance of the pharmacy. When they made eye contact, his eyes lightened, and a small smile crept onto his face. He held his hand out for her to take. It was corny, but Amy really appreciated it.

They navigated through the store, finding the pregnancy tests, and Jake insisted on buying the most expensive one to put Amy’s mind at ease.

They stepped into the bathroom together, receiving strange stares from the employees, and Jake turned to the corner while Amy peed on the fancy test (Why was she comfortable with him in there? God, she must really like him). Then she set a timer and they waited.

Standing there in the bathroom waiting for the timer to go off, Amy turned to Jake and asked, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Oh, right. That.” He sighed. “Well, I guess now’s as good a time as any.” Awkward smile. Deep breath.

Amy waited with bated breath for what she thought (and hoped) he would say.

“So, after That Night, I, uh, realized that I like you. And I wanna be with you. Romantic stylez. Stylez with a z.”

Amy was shocked. She knew she felt the same way, and that she wanted that, too, but their life might be about to get really complicated.

A part of her brain told her that it would make things simpler if there was a baby, but another part thought of Jane the Virgin and how complicated Mateo’s life became with on-off parents.

But heart and mouth seemed to be ahead of her brain because she found herself saying, “Me, too.”

Jake smiled so genuinely it hurt Amy’s heart. She smiled back and, before she could think, pulled Jake in for a tender kiss.

If Jake had to describe it, he would say it felt like taking a deep breath after too long under water. Kissing Amy was like coming home and smelling your pillow after being away. Kissing Amy was like heaven.

If Amy had to describe it, she would say it was like pulling on a soft shirt straight out of the dryer. Kissing Jake was like a fresh, warm binder and a clean apartment.

Then the timer went off.

Amy pulled away and made eye contact with Jake. There was panic and worry in her eyes.

“Deep breath,” Jake said reassuringly.

Together, they looked down.

Not Pregnant.

Amy could almost cry with relief. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

She looked up at Jake, who also looked pretty relieved. He caught her looking and tried explaining.

“I would’ve been a good dad. Y’know, if that was the case. I would have stayed and cared, I’m not—”

Amy cut him off. “Jake. I know. I don’t doubt it even for a second. But relief is fine. I am definitely not ready, and you probably aren’t either.”

Jake smiled pulled her in for another kiss, only for Amy to stop him.

He looked worried and said, “Oh, shit, did I mess something up?”

Amy laughed. “No, you goof. It’s just that we are definitely not going going to make out in a CVS bathroom.”

“Oh. Oh, okay good. Geez, I thought I fucked up for a second.”

“No, Peralta. We’ll be fine.”

#b99 #brooklyn99 #peraltiago #jake peralta/amy santiago #b99 fic #peraltiago fic

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alwynswift13 · 6 years

Text

Alright

“Oh for the love of….” Taylor mumbled to herself as she dug through her bathroom cabinet on her hands and knees. There it was. Taylor snatched the small blue box up from the bottom corner of the cabinet where it had been shoved under a seriously startling amount of hair products bottles. Taylor mentally noted that she probably needed to got though the entire bathroom soon so she could get rid of some stuff, she probably didn’t need four bottles of the same hair spray. Shaking her head slightly Taylor stood up, straightening her skirt, as she flipped the box over and set it down on the counter. She skimmed over the directions, hands shaking slightly, as she picked the box back up.

Three minutes later Taylor was sitting on her bed, the timer on her phone on, two minutes to go. Her leg was shaking as she pumped it up and down, trying to stay calm, telling herself that she was probably just overreacting. She had been under a lot of stress lately, that was probably all it was, stress can do crazy things to a persons body she reminded herself silently as she stared at the numbers ticking away on her phone.

“Babe…” a voice suddenly echoed from downstairs as the sound of the door shutting reverberated. “Shit” Taylor whispered, standing up quickly, he wasn't supposed to be home for at least another hour. “Uh yeah, I’m up here,” she shouted back down while clumsily shoving the box into the side table, taking note of the bold word pregnant, staring back at her, her breathe hitched as she slammed the drawer shut. She could hear his footsteps echoing on the stairs as he made his way to her. “Hey love, I finished up early today” he announced, grinning at her as he stood in the door frame looking at her excitedly. “Well I can see that” replied Taylor as she made her way to the bathroom to wash her hands, “why didn’t you call or text?” She asked, a slight edge to her voice.

Joe’s grin faltered as he followed her into the bathroom, studying her, confused at her reaction to his arrival. He had thought she would be excited to see him, she didn’t need to be ecstatic, but she was acting very anxious as she roughly dried her hands on the towel next to the sink. “Well, I thought I would surprise you, I thought maybe we could have a nice dinner or something…” he trailed off as she raised her eyebrows at him, “yeah, because there’re so many places we can go” she replied sarcastically as she made her way back into the bedroom, picking up her phone as she went, automatically chiding herself for the way she was behaving. She knew she was being a moody bitch when Joe was only trying to do something sweet.

She took a deep breathe, turning to face him, a sheepish smile on her face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, it just” she paused for a moment, “can be a lot you know” she finished with a whisper. Her mind began racing, it already was a lot to handle, how on earth could she possibly add a baby to the mix. They both had crazy lives separately, but together it was almost unmanageable at times. Oh god how had this happened, this was not supposed to happen, especially not like this, her eyes began to well up as she thought back to that night.

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

“Joe stop it!” She giggled, running around to the other side of the island, “ah no, I swear” she exclaimed, almost doubling over with laughter as more white powder went flying into her hair. “Oh Miss Swift, you asked for it” taunted Joe lunging around the island, wrapping his arms around her waist, tickling her and she crumbled to the ground in a fit of laughter, screeching gleefully as Joe wrestled her to the floor, a huge grin on his face as a deep laugh escaped his lips. He pinned her hands above her head as she squirmed, laughing hysterically all while trying to catch her breathe. She was sure that she looked ridiculous as well, but she couldn’t help but grin at Joe’s white hair which was covered with a nice coating of flour. “You have something… right here!” Exclaimed Taylor as she threw her last handful of flour at him, giggling as he gasped and laughed as the flour coated his face.

His grip went back to her arms as she squirmed playfully under his grasp as he laughed and shook his head at her. “Taylor” he exclaimed, laughing so hard that he was leaning into her so closely, that she could probably kiss him if she wanted to, and boy did she want to. Who knew flinging flour at each other in the kitchen like small children could be such a turn on thought Taylor with a smirk.

They both made eye contact, giggling softly as Joe brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear as he took a deep breathe, collecting himself again. He bent down to place a short kiss on her lips, getting ready to stand back up, but Taylor gabbed his forearm before he could, “And where do you think you’re going mister” whispered Taylor as she leaned forward to kiss him softly, a smile on her lips. “Mmhm” mumbled Joe as he deepened the kiss, “no where now” he whispered as she sat up to her knees, straddling him on the kitchen floor, flour on every surface. “Good” she murmured seductively, “me too” she whispered in his ear as she began to kiss his neck. His hands immediately went to her ass, pulling her into him, as he kissed her neck, feeling her arch her back slightly with the contact. Before either of them knew it, their clothes were in a pile on the kitchen floor and Taylors back was pressed against the cool tile of the floor, arching slightly as Joe pushed her hands above her head, making love to her.

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

Taylor flinched at the sound of Joe’s voice bringing her back to reality. “What?” She asked, jerking her head to face him. “I said,” he began slowly, “ is everything alright, you seem anxious” he asked directly, not breaking eye contact with her as she stood facing him, looking like a deer in headlights. “Nope, its all good” replied Taylor brusquely as she abruptly turned and walked quickly out of the room, stifling tears and she made her way down the stairs into the kitchen, the scene of the crime she thought sarcastically to herself. She leaned against the counter, palms flush with the cool granite, taking deep breathes, trying very hard not to cry.

Joe quietly made his way down stairs after her, knowing full well everything was not okay. He walked into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when he saw Taylor sobbing with her head laying on her arms on the counter. “Oh love,” he whispered softly as stood behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. “Shhh, don't cry” he murmured into her ear, “we’ll fix it, I promise, whatever it is love.” “You ca- ca-can’t fix this” sobbed Taylor, “I… we.. I… can’t” she kept sobbing, gripping his forearms as her body shook. Joe absolutely hated seeing her like this. “Come on love, what is it?” He asked her again stroking her back. Taylor just shook her head as she stood up, taking his hand in hers and walking upstairs.

He followed her, very confused about what was happening as she took him back to the bedroom where they just were. She yanked open the side table drawer and thrust a blue box into his hands, promptly bursting into tears again as she sat down on the bed, cradling her head in her hands. “It was that night, in the kitchen,” she sobbed as Joe opened the box, staring at her wide eyed, now he looked like a deer in headlights. “ I knew we shouldn’t..” She sobbed as Joe stared at the test in front of him. The word pregnant staring back at him.

“Oh” he whispered, still in shock, “Oh” Taylor echoed back at him, “great response Joe” she said huskily, wiping tears from her eyes. “Exactly what I wanted to hear” she snapped at him, still crying , un able to control it any more. “Taylor, I…” said Joe quietly, sitting down next to her as she leaned away from him. “You know thats not what I meant, I’m just shocked, thats all” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him. She fought him at first, but after a second she gave in, resting her cheek against his chest, her tears leaving a mark on his grey shirt. She hiccuped as he rubbed small circles on her back, “It’s scary love” he began, resting his cheek on top of her head, “ theres so much that goes into having a baby, a child,” he said, “but you know what, I know you can do it, that we can do it. I watch you in amazement every day, and I'm convinced that there is nothing you can’t do. You are one of the most generous, thoughtful, and caring people I know. And in my opinion, those are the best qualities for a mother to have” he finished softly, kissing her on the top of her head as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, slowly looking ups at him. “Is this something you really want” she asked him, searching his face for a reaction. He stared intensely back at her, “Yes, one hundred percent.” He replied. “I want you, and whatever a life with you looks like” he said, wiping the tears from under her eyes as he spoke gently.

She smiled slightly, whispering into his chest, “I’m scared” she said, shaking slightly at the admittance of her own feelings. “Me to” replied Joe, “but I would be more concerned if we weren’t” he replied softly, tracing circles on her back, comforting her. She sat back slightly, wiping her eyes as she held his gaze. “So we’re doing this” she whispered, her breathe catching slightly, “a baby, its just…” she trailed off with a hiccup. “Yeah” replied Joe slowly, “its… a lot, like you said earlier, but when has that stopped us before” he replied with a small grin. “I’m one hundred percent in, in this relationship, being a father, whatever you need from me, you’ll alway get” said Joe seriously, “I can promise you that.” He said, taking her hand as he spoke. “Do you trust me?” He asked, “always” replied Taylor, her brow furrowed slightly as she thought about it. The totality of the situation, a baby, she Taylor Alison Swift was going to be a mom. It scared her so badly she wanted to cry, but there was also a hint of excitement there. She loved Joe, she would trust him with anything, somehow it seemed like maybe this wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen. “Ok….” She said slowly, “we are having a baby” she finished with a slight smile, “a baby” replied Joe, smiling back at her as he pulled her into a tight hug. “I love you” he whispered in her ear, feeling her relax into him as he pulled her closer, leaning back so that they were both laying on the bed, snuggled together. “And our baby too” he finished, kissing her softly. And that was when she knew everything would be alright.

#taylor swift #taylor and joe #taylor and joe fanfiction

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