#but wording it like explaining every joke is the bad thing I’m doing because ‘fuck you’
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Fuck you explains every joke
#you see it’s funny because#it’s worded like I’m doing something really bad#like we’re arguing and so I say#‘fuck you’#and then do the thing#but because of the lack of punctuation it looks like I’m just saying it#which is kinda funny#but wording it like explaining every joke is the bad thing I’m doing because ‘fuck you’#is also funny#because it’s not that bad#at least I think that’s the joke#idk#I’m a sheeple ato#atp*#it’s all funny
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You ever just wanna pick someone up, and cause them so much immeasurable pain that they die from shock before you even get the chance to properly kill them
#i’m sorry i’m still talking about them i just cannot for the life of me get over the sheer audacity of this bitch#like. i dare to not understand their joke#they proceed to make fun of me for not understanding the joke. essentially calling me braindead#and then why i call them out on it and give them a taste of their own medicine suddenly i’m the bad guy?#then suddenly i apparently only explicitly exaggerated their words in the way i did because i wanted them to kill themself#and the mere implication that they would ever do something like that is way out of line. despite the fact that they were just making fun of#ME for not being able to take a joke a few seconds ago snd then their wussy pissbaby nerves can’t handle a comical exaggeration that had a#fucking tone indicator on it#not to mention that i literally explained why i didn’t get the joke miltiple times- and it is a very valid reason might i mention#and then they go ‘oH wElL iF tHiS iS wHaT tHe UtDr FaNdOm iS LiKe-‘ bitch when the FUCK was this about fandom#this has nothing to do with fandom. this is about you making fun of me for not getting your joke and then wanting to act like the victim on#top of it#and then i call them out on THAT as well as how me being in this fandom doesn’t immediately make everyone in it terrible because h th at was#bullshit and they know it#and then i bring up how i was in the sanrio fandom too and they probably wouldn’t say that makes every sanrio fan ever terrible and they use#that t COMPLETELY ivore everything i said and then they have the audacity to fucking BLOCK ME and take my words out of context to tell their#friends i said all these terrible things that they know full well i didn’t say. at least not in the purposefully deceuitfuway they worded it#god i fucking hate rhis person so much#i’m not much of a big hater but i cannot think about this fucking atrocity of a ‘human’ being with anything but xomplete and utter hatred in#my heart#fuck them and fuck all of their friends because i know damn well they read that post too. assuming that bitch didn’t trash the evidence#before they could
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Indifferent (1)
Summary: Your father wanted a bond between you and the Barnes Empire. No matter what.
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader
Warnings: arranged marriage, angst, mentions of impotence, arguments, mafia au, hand around throat (no choking/non-sexual), strong reader, mentions of cheating/attempted cheating?
Indifferent Masterlist
He glares at you from across the dining table. His upper lip curls when you dig into the too-dry chicken his new cook prepared for you and your not-so-lovely husband.
“I’m not satisfied—” he leaves open what crawled up his ass today, but you know, it’s not the food. James Buchanan Barnes is bad at hiding he despises you when you are alone.
“You are not satisfied?” You chuckle dryly and drop the fork onto the table with a loud clank. “Why don’t you ask me how I feel?” You get up, chair scarping loudly over the expensive parquet.
His eyes darken when you dare to walk toward the end of the huge table. “What is it that bugs you, love?” He spats the last word as if it burned his tongue.
“You!” You throw your hands up. “This marriage is a farce. If I could, I’d be out and about in the blink of an eye. Everything is better than living with an indifferent, moody, and impotent man!”
“IMPOTENT?” Bucky rises from his seat. He squares his jaw and clenches his metal fist. For a second, you’re scared to the bones, but you brush it off.
“YES! If not I wouldn’t ride a pillow every night,” you spat in his face. “Just you know, I’m going to look for a lover first thing today. And I won’t be subtle about it. Everyone knows by now that this marriage is a bad joke. I refuse to be the butt of the joke, though.”
“You won’t ruin the union of our empires over selfish reasons.” You gasp when you end up pressed into the wall, Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around your throat. He leans closer to brush his nose over your cheek. “Even though, I don’t think you’ll find a lover anytime soon. Who would go for you if they can have some other girl? I’d go for someone else too if only I could…”
He drops his hand from your throat and smirks. Bucky steps away, flashes you a smile, and storms out of the dining room.
You stand there, shell-shocked at his outburst as you rub your throat. His words hurt like hell. You drop your eyes to look down at your body. It’s been a while since you felt this kind of hurt.
Maybe it’s you. Maybe Bucky isn’t interested in being with you because of your looks.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Bucky barks outside your shared bedroom. “Woman, I don’t have all day. My parents want to have lunch with the two of us. Just put a smile on and come here.”
You walk out of the bedroom, an armful of your clothes. “I think it’s for the best to not keep the act up. We are married, but this doesn’t mean I must spend time with your father.”
Bucky watches you walk toward the west wing of the mansion. He follows you hot on your heels, all the while throwing questions at you.
“Where are you going? What are you up to? Y/N, answer me!”
“I’ll stay at the west wing from now on. Annie will help me bring my belongings to the west wing. You can do whatever you want to at your wing. Just stay out of my sight.”
You walk away, leaving Bucky stunned and angry. He grits his teeth and calls you names as you slam the heavy door parting the west wing from the entrance hall shut.
“What the fuck!” He mutters under his breath. So far, you suffered in silence ignoring his unbearable behavior, and the openly shown hatred towards you and your marriage. Now you riot and he doesn’t handle it well.
“Where’s your lovely wife?” George cocks his head as his son sits down on their table. “I thought you said she’ll be here too.”
“She’s not feeling well today,” Bucky lies straight into his father’s face. What else can he do? How shall he explain that the bond your parents forced upon the both of you lies in ruins after not even six months into marriage?
“Ah, she finally snapped,” Winnifred remarks while studying the menu. She smiles to herself, while her husband and Bucky turn their heads toward her. “Good for her. I was rooting for Y/N.”
She slowly closes the menu and lies it down on the table. Winnifred doesn’t give away more. She orders her food and a glass of white wine. Your mother-in-law is in the mood to celebrate.
It wasn’t a lie. She was rooting for you to take matters into your own hands. It took you longer than she liked but now, she’ll lean back and watch her son grovel.
“What do you mean?” Bucky and George say in unison. They are surprised at Winnifred’s answer.
“You forced that lovely woman into marriage and didn’t even try to make her feel welcome. Did you at least give her orgasms?” She chuckles. Bucky’s face turns red, he swallows thickly, and uncomfortably shifts in his seat. “I see. The poor woman suffers in silence.” She sighs now. “Alright, I’ll give her the number of our gardener. He’s got a son who will gladly help Y/N take care of her secret garden.”
“What?” George is at a loss for words while his son tries to forget that his mother was asking him about your non-existent sex life. “Mother!”
“What? I’m a red-blooded woman, just like Y/N. If you don’t find satisfaction with your husband, you must look elsewhere. Men do it all the time.” She shrugs before taking a sip of her white wine. “Y/N is a beautiful woman in her best years. Her sexual drive must be over the top after six months of not getting any attention.”
“Winni, stop saying things like that in public,” George snarls. “You are making a scene.”
“I’m not making a scene,” Winnifred bites back. “I try to make our son see that his wife will turn toward someone else in no time if he doesn’t take care of her every whim soon. You’ll weaken our bond, and this will shatter both of our empires. Is that what you want, son?”
Is that what you want? His mother’s words echoed in his mind the whole way back home. Of course, he doesn’t want to weaken your empires.
The only purpose of your marriage was to strengthen not only his father’s empire but your father’s empire too.
If you turn toward someone else, an enemy maybe to get back at Bucky, the empires could crumble and fall only because he’s too stubborn to let you inside his life.
Bucky enters the mansion, a grim expression coloring his features. If only you weren’t so infuriating and stubborn he could’ve easily settled for you.
But no.
Y/N Y/L/N is the most annoying and bratty woman he ever met.
Sometimes Bucky believes you’re riling him up on purpose.
“Wait—” he stops in his tracks. Bucky furrows his brows as he tries to recall all of your little fights. “Is she doing it on purpose? Maybe she wants me to lose control and just…”
“Where are you going?” Bucky follows you out of the mansion. “Y/N stop being a brat. I asked you a question and I expect you to answer my damn question!”
“Out,” you glance over your shoulder at Bucky. “Your mother sent me something interesting and now, I want to find out if it’s for me.”
“She did what?” Bucky looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. He pants heavily and clutches his fists to his sides. “You won’t leave the ground for the time being.”
You huff. “Try me.”
He closes the distance between the two of you with three long steps to grab your arm. “Don’t tempt me to throw you over my shoulder! You’ll go back inside and listen to what I have to say.”
You laugh in his face. “Make me!”
Part 2
Tags in reblog.
#bucky barnes#mafia au#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#x reader#mobster!bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x y/n
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Every little thing you do- Part 4
Series master list
Tommy Shelby x reader
Better late than never! I hope you like this! The drama continues for a while, no warning is needed just Lizzie being a (b)witch.
Word count: 2,923
Lizzie rolled her eyes subtly as Y/N walked past her with a blinder following her steps with a box full of papers. Surprisingly Tommy hired his best friend as his assistant and now everywhere Lizzie looked, she found Y/N.
“Thank you James!” She heard Y/N.
“Any time, just let me know if you need anything.” The blinder tipped his peaky cap towards her and walked away.
Lizzie found Y/N the most irritating person, always smiling, always charming everyone, always so fucking close to Tommy. And now she had to work at the company too?!
“Now that Scott is missing, are you going to start flirting with James too?” Lizzie asked with sarcasm.
Nobody knew where Scott was, he simply faded away one day and Y/N didn’t seem to care.
Y/N wasn’t in the mood to deal with Lizzie’s bullshit that day, she had been giving herself away to work, eager to payoff Tommy’s kindness. But no matter what, Lizzie had been showing a bitchy attitude towards her without a valid reason since the beginning.
“Why? Are you jealous?” Y/N retorted immediately and pretended to focus on the folders with the licenses information, she needed to organize those.
“You think you’re so smart and with that innocent look you can blind men.”
“That’s what you think hmm? Well, even if that was the case… it’s none of your business.”
“And whose next? Tommy?” Lizzie placed her hand on her hip, twisting her lower lip down.
Y/N felt like actually having a little fun. Polly told her Tommy had sex with Lizzie occasionally, not like an official thing, but apparently Lizzie’s feelings got in the way at some point.
“Oh… wait you don’t know the latest gossip darling?” Y/N fixed her eyes on Lizzie’s paled expression. “I’m living in his house… Arrow House, it’s a fucking palace if you ask me.”
Y/N’s statement was a direct punch into Lizzie’s gut, anger and discomfort was so evident in her expression.
“Are you Tommy’s new whore?” Lizzie asked loudly not realizing that Tommy was behind her.
“Elizabeth Stark!” His voice resonated around, making Lizzie jump.
His jaw clenched and he threw his secretary a death stare that could turn her into stone. Y/N knew of his bad temper and his violent reactions -never towards her of course-, but deep down she felt bad for Lizzie.
Pacing between them, Tommy took a few more steps until he stood next to Y/N.
“I want everyone around.” He rubbed the cigarette over his lips, but refrained from lightning it because he remembered it made Y/N sick. “RIGHT NOW!”
As he saw other secretaries and blinders gathered around, as well as his family, he took a deep breath.
“I haven’t got the chance to properly introduce Y/N… she’s my assistant now.” He explained with a serious tone. “But if anyone…” Tommy then fixed his eyes on Lizzie, “dares to say anything bad to her, point a fucking finger, question her integrity or whatever the fuck you do. In that very moment, you’re fired. And I’m no joking.”
The people gave him a few nods and nervous stares.
“Are we clear?” He shouted then, to make his point valid.
A chorus of yes was heard around as people started to move.
“This is a warning.” He explained to Lizzie directly. “Next time you cross the line, and you’re out.”
Lizzie stood there petrified, not knowing what to say or do.
Then, when he turned around to face Y/N, his expression went completely soft again. The difference was evident.
“Y/N your grandma is waiting in my car, I’m taking you two somewhere.” He explained holding out her coat.
“Oh!” She rushed excited, leaving Lizzie fuming.
“Jealousy will take you nowhere.” Polly pointed at Lizzie, lighting a cigarette.
“I’m just so done with her, I can’t stand her!” She exploded clenching her jaw.
Polly studied her, then leaning against the desk, she finally asked; “what��s your problem? Y/N hasn’t done anything to you.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes and scoffed in discomfort. Y/N was always in the middle, always got Tommy’s attention, she made him smile, he looked after her all the fucking time!
Shaking the ash from her cigarette, Lizzie picked some folders from her desk.
“I don’t like her, alright?”
“You’re jealous.” It wasn’t a question.
Lizzie took a few seconds to answer the Shelby matriarch.
“I keep him satisfied… isn’t that enough?”
For an instant, Polly felt pity for Lizzie. “Believe it or not… that’s not all that Thomas is looking for.”
The green-eyed woman stared at her confused. So Polly continued.
“He had always dreamed big, he always wanted what he didn’t have growing up… he wants his own family, wants to make things right.” She explained.
“So there’s something going on between them?” Lizzie asked, the air escaping her body.
Polly stopped walking and slowly turned around to look at the secretary. “What? Of course not, they’re like brother and sister.”
Lizzie blinked a few times, confused. “I don’t understand.”
With a sigh, Polly told her it wasn’t her place to say anything and left. Y/N would decide if she wanted to share the news of her pregnancy and with whom she chose to do it.
“What did you tell Mum?” Y/N asked in the vehicle after greeting her grandmother with a tight and comforting hug.
She winked at her granddaughter from the front seat. “That I was going to the market.”
Tommy grinned listening to their talk, a moment later they arrived to the Garrison and he guided them to the private booth, so they would be able to talk freely.
“Harry would you prepare the kettle? Y/N and her grandma will need some tea.”
“Right away Mr. Shelby.”
Y/N’s grandma looked around, she had never been in a place like this, where men went to have a drink.
“You look pale my darling,” she stated giving her granddaughter’s hand a squeeze. “Is she eating well Mr. Shelby?”
“Oh, yes… you know, she’s a bit stubborn at times.” He chuckled. “You’re more than welcome in my house you know that, right?”
Y/N’s grandma touched his arm in gratitude. “God will pay you back in blessings.”
“Yes, Tommy won’t let me lift a finger, he got maids, someone that cooks and a driver. Can you believe that grandma?”
Her grandma looked at him in shock. It sounded like Tommy belonged to an upper status now.
“If you want to see Y/N, just ask any of my men to take you.”
Y/N looked at him with her eyes full of gratitude.
“Grandma…” Y/N stared at the cup of tea Harry brought, then she gave Tommy a quick glance.
“I’ll be checking the numbers of the pub. Alright?” Tommy offered to give them space.
“Thank you.” She saw him disappear, the noise from the pub filled momentarily the room.
“How are you feeling my dear?” Y/N’s grandma asked, worry installed in her eyes.
“As good as I can be,” she looked down, “the Shelby family had been looking after me and the doctor says everything is fine with the baby.”
“Oh that’s wonderful news.” The elderly woman celebrated. “But the sadness is still there, in your eyes.”
“I’m trying to be strong, but I can’t help but think I shouldn’t have been so naive, I thought Scott loved me.”
“I’m not going to lie to you dear, I always thought you’d end up falling in love with someone else.” The hint of a smile decorated her lips.
Y/N frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Her grandma shuddered. “Someone better, with a bright future.” She explained but kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. When she turned around, Y/N saw Tommy pouring some beer through the small window.
“But now it’s too late to think of that, I’ve to focus on this baby first.” Y/N murmured absently.
Y/N could feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. Part of her wanted to be optimistic and the other part needed to be realistic. Things would be different now.
“Can you ask Tommy if he knows a good lawyer?” Her grandma’s words caught her attention, but before she could ask if everything was alright, she spoke again. “I’m going to change my house under your name, but I don’t want anyone to learn this.”
The gesture touched every fiber of Y/N’s body and her eyes watered immediately.
“Oh grandma…”
“No, don’t thank me.” She warned. “When the time is right, you’ll need something to be yours.”
Dabbing the corner of her eyes with a napkin, Y/N stood up to give her grandmother a hug. “I don’t want you to worry anymore.” She added.
Y/N allowed her grandma to comfort her, feeling her heart full at the moment. And then she started sharing how good she felt now working at the Shelby business. Before they realized, time had passed and they thought it’d be better to take her grandma back home before it got dark.
“I’ll get Tommy.” Y/N informed standing up.
“Wait… I got something else for you.” Y/N’s grandma stated solemnly, producing a cloth from her handbag.
When Y/N opened it, she shook her head. “I can’t take it, it’s your money.”
“My darling… you will need it for the baby.”
“Don’t worry about it, thankfully I’ve the salary the Shelby family is paying me.”
Her grandmother shook her head profusely. “Either way, keep it in case you need it.”
“Thank you gran… it means the world to me.” Y/N stood to round the table and give her grandmother a tight hug. “You’re not mad?”
The elderly woman frowned and asked what she meant.
“Well you know… that I didn’t save myself until marriage?” She asked ashamed of her actions.
“Sweetheart, I’ve seen worse. It’s not my place to judge you.” Her grandmother caressed the side of her face. “What is it darling?” Worry was evident in her gaze.
Y/N was t able to hold it together any longer, tears started rolling down her cheeks.
“I feel like I failed my parents, you… I-I’m sorry.”
Y/N’s grandma wiped the tears away.
“Stop thinking that. A baby is always a blessing.”
“But grandma what will I do?”
“Whatever you need to do for this baby, it’s something you’ll only discover once the baby is born, a strength unknown will keep you above the water.” She stated wisely.
A few days later a sudden sound startled Y/N. When she looked up, she found Polly staring down at her.
“What are you bloody doing down there?”
“I’m organizing the races licenses.” She replied from the floor, papers scattered all around her.
“And the desk isn’t big enough?” Polly arched her eyebrows. “Don’t answer that.” She added after taking a look at the folders.
Lizzie took a turn but stopped abruptly when she found Polly talking with Y/N.
“Uhmm Tommy left these papers, said it was important for you to sign them.”
“Oh I forgot!” While she was signing the papers, she had some news to share. “Make sure to finish this, because you and I are going shopping this afternoon.”
“Polly you know I can’t, I’m trying to save money.” Y/N blushed in embarrassment.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not saying you’ll be spending money.” When she saw the face Y/N made, she interrupted her raising a hand. “I don’t wanna hear it.”
And with that, she clicked her heels to go into her office in the opposite hall.
Y/N stared at her, Polly was glamorous, she oozed personality and had a charming character. A light blood as Esme called her.
Lizzie looked at Y/N up and down, there was no way she could afford the clothes she was wearing. Taking a sip of her tea, she thought of what to say. She needed to be careful because Tommy had already give her a warning, but she couldn’t miss an opportunity to annoy her, poor little helpless Y/N… but Lizzie also knew she wasn’t going to run to him and tell him every time they talked.
“So you’re living with Tommy huh? That’s new… do the maids have to call you Mrs. Shelby?” Dabbing the lipstick she just applied, she gave her another look. “He can be generous when he wants, but seriously I don’t understand what kind of relationship you have if you’re living together but you aren’t a couple?” She spat bitterly.
“No offense Lizzie, but honestly? You’re the last woman I’d go after for an advice.” Y/N felt a bit tired, some nights it was impossible to sleep, worry and uncertainty was keeping her up.
“Well, you’re missing out then… because between us? You’ll never guess who’s taking me for a date.”
Y/N wanted to laugh at her words. A man dating Lizzie Stark. But a voice deep inside her made her shut up, because well… she was pregnant without being married. So she decided to play her game.
“Really? Enlighten me.”
Lizzie raised an eyebrow and gave Y/N a wicked smile.
“You know what? I don’t want you to ruin this for me.” She shook her head.
Y/N frowned, why would she ruin her date? She didn’t even care. Lizzie playing the mysterious woman was the most boring thing in the world and if she thought that would make her ask anything else or beg her to say her new lover’s name, Lizzie didn’t knew her at all. Y/N had enough at the moment to stick her nose in someone else’s business.
Lizzie rolled her eyes when Y/N didn’t commented anything further and walked with the folders to the safe.
She wanted to rub in her face that she was dating Angel Changretta. Whatever dating means, they were having wild sex, and Angel had said a few times that he didn’t care about her past. He took her out in his car and drove her back home, not like Tommy he only took her against the desk and didn’t even dare to take her clothes off, he just used her and lately he didn’t even looked at her.
Angel was her ticket to a better life.
Y/N locked the safe and returning to her desk, she found Tommy leaning against the window.
“What are you doing here?”
Y/N gave him a confused look. “I work here?”
That earned a laugh from Tommy. “Thought you we’re heading out, shopping.”
“Yes but later, once I finish my shift.”
Pointing at the hall, he let her walk first. “I need to ask you for a favor.”
That caught her attention and she looked at him intensely. “Anything.”
“Do you remember all those times we talked back then about how we dreamed of doing something together to turn everything around?”
Y/N nodded. “Because life was never fair.”
“How we were always missing opportunities because everything was so damn hard?” Tommy continued, his mind going back in time to a day when they didn’t allowed them in school because his old uniform had a hole in one of the knees and Y/N’s mother couldn’t afford the new books, so they skipped classes and went to the river to swim.
“You always said if it was up to you, you’d do everything completely different.” Y/N remembered all too well.
“I’m planning to open an institution for the kids in need.”
Her eyes sparkled with admiration. Tommy’s generosity didn’t know limits and it spoke volumes about the real man he was.
“How can I help?” She jumped in right away.
“That attitude will make you conquer anything.” Tommy pointed at his friend with a smile. “Whenever it’s possible I need you to lead this project. It’s ambitious but I’ll give you all the people you will need to materialize it.”
“Yes! Of course!” She oozed the excitement. “Education it’s the key for a better future.”
Tommy pouted, letting her words sink in. “You’ll need to make that the slogan.” He chuckled.
“I can scout the children who lost their fathers by the war, they probably were forced to drop school to start working.”
Tommy relaxed his shoulders, pleased with the way Y/N understood what he wanted.
She then continued, now pacing around.
“And the boys and girls whose fathers work at the factories, long hours they’re probably left at home by themselves… what about a program after school? We could offer them tutoring or different courses like knitting for girls and carpentry for the boys.
“Free tuition and uniforms.” Tommy added.
“We could add a jar by the bets table so people can donate here too.”
“Lizzie had some properties already, I’ll tell her to give you everything, check them out and tell me which one you think would work better.”
“Tommy this will make a huge difference, you can’t even imagine the impact.”
“Excellent, now… leave that.” Tommy tipped his head towards the papers. “Find Polly and go already,” he instructed and then produced something from his pocket.
“Tommy I can’t accept this.” She was shocked by the amount of money he was handling her.
“You can, and you will because it’s a gift for the baby. Now go, because I need to smoke.”
One of the secretaries walked past them, it wasn’t her original plan, but she heard their conversation accidentally.
Part 5
Tag list: list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @lau219 @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest @wannabeperfectionists-blog (can’t tag) @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @skydisneylover (can’t tag) @holacia3 @galactict3a @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @ietss @abaker74 @natalie--rushman @elliaze @justrainandcoffee @teawonderfultea-blog1
#that’s what Cill said#tommy shelby x fem!reader#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#thomas shelby fluff#thomas shelby fanfiction
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BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT
a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!
masterlist! song inspo! AO3!
pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)
summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?
word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)
warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)
authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags
There are two universal truths in life.
The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.
These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.
However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.
It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.
“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”
Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”
“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”
“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”
“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”
You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care.
You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting.
You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.
But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours.
Fuck.
Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.
“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”
You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”
Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”
“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”
The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers.
However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.
Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.
You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.
Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.
But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.
You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.
Unfortunately, neither of those happen.
Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.
Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.
You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something.
You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.
It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”
The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”
You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?”
You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”
You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—
The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”
The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”
“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”
That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”
Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.
Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”
“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”
You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”
“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”
He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”
“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”
“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”
“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”
He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”
“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”
He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”
He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.
But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”
That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt?
You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so.
Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”
The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”
“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”
Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth.
You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.
You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be.
(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)
Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.
It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth.
But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.
No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.
You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”
So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.
He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.
When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.
“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”
Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”
That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.
It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.
“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”
You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it.
However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.
If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you.
And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.
You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter.
That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis.
(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)
He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”
You blink at him. “What?”
“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”
At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him.
His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”
He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”
That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand.
You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.
But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.
Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.
You’re fucked.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.
You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number.
And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.
It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read.
(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)
Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?
His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.
And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.
And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.
Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.
She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.
Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.
“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”
“Leah…” Your voice is weak.
It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”
“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”
“Are you sure?”
You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”
“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”
You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”
“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning.
You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”
“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”
“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.
You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names.
You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.
That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you.
You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.
You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you.
(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.)
But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.
You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.
“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.
A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”
“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”
“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”
Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”
Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”
You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”
There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”
“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”
“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”
And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee.
You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.
It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.
It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you.
It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight?
It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.
It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.
It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes.
Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.
It’s a bad idea to consider it.
But it’s a worse idea to agree.
text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.
Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.
The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.
God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?
Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.
However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.
“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”
You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat.
It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?
Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”
His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”
That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”
“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”
The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past.
But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember.
“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”
“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”
He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”
You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”
“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”
He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.
The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”
That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”
His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”
Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”
“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”
The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”
“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”
Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.
You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”
Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.
He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.
His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips.
The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.
His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”
You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”
You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”
You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.
You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.
It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”
You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.
Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”
He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”
“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”
“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”
You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is.
It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.
So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.”
The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”
“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”
His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”
And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him.
This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.
That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.
So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.
Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”
“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.
“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”
“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”
He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”
Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.
He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.
“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.
Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.
Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”
You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.
He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.
The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”
That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.
Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.
He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”
“What?” you ask again.
“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”
The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”
With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.
He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs.
You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”
His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”
Your mouth parts. “Why?”
“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”
You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.
“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”
His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.
Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”
You scoff. “I told you.”
He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.
His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”
He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.
So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”
That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”
And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.
You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.
And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.
And it’s fucking hot.
The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.
“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”
Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”
“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”
“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”
You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.
“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”
And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.
Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”
He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.
He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”
He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.
The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”
You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.
But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.
The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—
“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”
The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.
Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.
It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.
When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.
You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”
You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point.
It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.
Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—
It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.
“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.
You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply.
Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”
You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”
He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back.
He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.
“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”
A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.
He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”
You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.
You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips.
He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”
You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say.
He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.
He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.
He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”
You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”
Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…
It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.
He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.
Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”
The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”
He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”
You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.
“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close.
He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.”
You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”
And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make.
“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”
You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.
He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.
You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.
“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.
You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”
You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”
He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”
You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”
Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”
They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.
You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.
Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing.
“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”
You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.
You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so.
“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”
The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”
It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.
You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.
You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”
The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings.
Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”
He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”
He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.
You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.
And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.
But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.
There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention.
And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.
Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.
I had a really good time tonight.
And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating.
me too.
And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with.
i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt#jamie tartt x you#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfic#jamie tartt fanfiction#bad ideas#the one who's not a loser but THEE loser#discowrites
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7/11 Slurpees
prompt: where Jamie comforts you when you overhear Trevor says he would never date you
word count: 3,535
“Are you ready for tonight Z,” Mason asked as they were filing out of the locker room after practice. The older boy let out a huff and shook his head. “I mean yes and no,” he says throwing his bag in the back of the Bronco. “What do you mean yes and no? I thought you were pumped for your friends to come out with us this weekend,” Jamie said looking at his roommate confused.
“I am really excited. It’s just Jack called me this morning saying that Y/n’s plans changed and she is able to come today with all of them and not tomorrow like we planned,” Trevor said pulling out of the parking lot and heading to his and Jamie’s house. “Okay, so what she is coming a day early? What is the big deal about coming one day early,” Mason asked from the back seat. “Yeah, she sounds super cool,” Jamie said recalling all the stories he had heard of the girl.
“She is fucking amazing, like literally the coolest girl I know,” Trevor responded with a sigh. “Okay, I am so lost. You are upset she is coming early, but she is amazing,” Mason was beyond confused. “No, it’s just, okay so she is literally the sweetest person ever. Like I’m talking you think she is faking it but it is all true. I love her beyond words, it’s just she has always had a thing for me,” he responds pulling up to the house and seeing a rental car full of his friends. “And it has never bothered me. I mean I think the attention and all that but wherever we go people think we are together. I mean you have no idea how many girls I have missed out on because of her,” he groaned putting the car in park and taking a deep breath.
“You are a fucking idiot,” Jamie says laughing at him and jumping out of the vehicle. “You must be talking about Trevor,” Cole joked from his spot leaning against the car. “Ha ha ha, hilarious,” Z mocks and embraces his friend. “Why is he an idiot this time,” Jack asks jumping in on the joke and hugging his friend. “Y/n,” both Mason and Jamie respond, making the other two guys nod their heads. “Oh god, here we go again,” Cole says grabbing his bag and following Jamie up the driveway to the house.
“Let me guess, he is complaining about how she is in love with him and his life is just so hard. I mean the torture of having a cool, kind, and pretty girl being into. Can you even imagine,” Jack responded with an eye roll. “Seriously Z, I wish she had chosen me over you,” Cole said plopping down on the couch. “If you want her so bad do something about it. It would help me out. Because I am telling you, nothing is gonna stop me from closing the deal tonight with Brittney,” the New York native says walking into the living room and opening his bottle of water.
“Brittney,” Cole and Jack ask looking at each other. “She is this bartender at the place we are going tonight. Trevor has been trying to get with her for like three or four weeks,” Jamie explains finding his spot on the end of the couch near Cole. “She is just playing the long game, she wants me,” Z says sitting down and starting up Mario Cart. “No she doesn’t Z,” Mason says flipping through to find his character. “Dude she flirts with me every time we go,” he rolls his eyes. “That’s her job dude. She gets more tips that way,” Jamie responded scrolling through his phone while the other four played a round.
“You guys will see later, or should I say hear later when I bring her home tonight,” Trevor says being cocky. Before any of the guys can chirp him the front door opening halts the conversation. “Who are you bringing home tonight,” Alex asked walking into the room first dropping his luggage on the floor near the door. “Brittney,” the other four respond. “I don’t even wanna know honestly. I am too tired to get into this,” he says walking towards the couch and looking for a spot to sit.
“Here you go dude,” Jamie says hopping up and giving the Kings player his seat. “No man, it’s your house,” he tries to argue but Jamie has already moved to sit on the oversized chair next to the couch. “It’s no big deal,” Jamie smiled at the older boy. The sound of my footsteps got everyone’s attention.
“Y/n,” Cole screams jumping up and pulling me into a tight hug. “Hey Coley,” I laugh into his chest and sway us a little. “Okay enough. My turn,” Jack says ripping Cole’s arms off of me and wrapping me up in his arms. “I missed you too Jacky,” I smile slipping my arm around his waist as he pulls away and stands next to me. “Also, Alex you have no reason to be tired. I drove here and you sleep the whole way,” I laugh kicking his legs that were propped up on the table. “Brat,” he snickers. “Princess,” I joke back and he laughs. “And don’t you forget it,” he responds with a wink.
“Hey Z,” I smile looking over at the boy who I had crushed on all of those years ago. “Y/n/n,” he smiled and stood up giving me a hug and a pat on the head. I laugh up at him and he flashes me his toothy grin. “Anyway, guys this is Y/n. Y/n this is Mason and Jamie,” he says moving away and back to his spot on the couch. “It’s really nice to meet you guys,” I smile at the two Candian boys.
Mason smiled and shook my hand and Jamie sat there. Cole nudged him and laughed as Jamie snapped out of his trance and turned red. “Hi Jamie,” I say moving to the empty spot on the couch in between Jack and Trevor. “Hi,” he says back smiling. I lean back and feel Jack wrap his arm around me and pull me closer. “Miss me J,” I laugh teasing the boy. “Yes. You should just quit school and move to Jersey so I can see you more,” he says smiling down at me.
“You know I can’t quit school. Some of us aren’t freakishly amazing at sports and go pro. Some of us have to go the boring route,” I say with a pout joking. “Yeah leave her alone Hughesy. She is like what a year out from graduating? You know what that is right,” Alex jokes earning a pillow thrown at him. “Fuck off,” he responds flipping Alex off. “Boys,” I say looking between the two. “Oh, you two are in trouble. Get em’ mama,” Cole says and I laugh at the nickname. I roll my eyes wondering how this weekend is gonna go.
Hours later when the seven of us got motivated we started getting ready for tonight. “So you live in Vancouver,” Mason asked me from the couch behind me. He had finished getting ready first and waited downstairs. I didn’t feel like fighting for the mirror in any of the bathrooms so I used my traveling one to do my makeup down here. “Yeah, I do. I go to school there,” I smile at him through the mirror. “Yeah our girl is gonna be a doctor,” Trevor says walking into the room with Cole. The two finally look my way as I am standing up putting the last of my makeup away. “
“Holy shit,” I hear mumbled under someone’s breath. “Why are you looking at me like that,” I say glancing back at the mirror trying to figure out what was wrong. “No no no. Nothing is wrong,” Cole rushes to say, trying to stop my worry. “Then what is it,” I say raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms over my chest. “Damn Y/n, you look hot,” Jack says walking into the door with Jamie and Alex. My cheeks turn bright red at the compliment.
I was wearing a see-through long-sleeved black top with a black bralette under it. A pair of high-waisted light-wash jeans and my Converse. “You guys ready to go,” I ask trying to get the attention off of me. We all split up between two cars and headed to the club Trevor had picked for the night. Alex, Jamie, and I all loaded up into my car while Cole, Trevor, Mason, and Jack got into the Bronco. “So can I ask you a question,” Jamie asked from the front seat, where I insisted he sat. “Yeah what’s up,” I ask from the middle seat of the back of the car.
“You and Trevor,” he started and then stopped trying to find his words. Alex and I laughed and knew exactly what he was talking about. “When we all first met I had a thing for Trevor. It lasted a couple of years and honestly was pretty sad,” I say wincing at how I used to act like a puppy following him around. “It was not sad Y/n/n,” Alex says looking back at me. “He never once gave me a reason to think he had feelings back so I just settled on being his friend,” I say getting out of the car when Jamie opens the door. “Thanks,” I say smiling at him.
“Y/n has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She loves big and puts everyone else above her. She finally got it through her hard head that she deserved someone who actually had feelings for her, instead of Z only fucking around when he didn’t have any other girl to flirt with,” Alex says and I lean over and hug him. As I go to move back I stumble on a rock and lose my balance. Jamie’s arms reach out and grab my waist keeping me upright. I grab his arm and laugh at how clumsy I am.
“You two look awfully cozy,” Cole jokes as they walk up to us. “Jealous,” I joke sticking my tongue out at him. “Always,” he goes along with it and sticks out his arm waiting for me to slip my arm through. I shake my head and thank Jamie before joining Cole. The two of us lead the group into the club towards the line to get in. After about ten minutes we finally get in and scout the place out for a table big enough for all of us.
“You guys find a table. I am going to find Brittney,” Trevor yells over the loud music. After finally finding a spot everyone gets settled. “I’ll be right back,” I say into Jack’s ear standing up. He raises his eyebrows at me questioning where I thought I was going. “I am going to the bathroom J. I’ll be right back, and plus you can see me the whole way there and back,” I laugh at his overprotectiveness. “I’m watching you,” he says and I smile turning and heading away from the table.
Leaving the bathroom I see Trevor at the bar and head over to get a drink. He is talking to some blonde girl behind the bar. I try to make my way to the bar but it is so crowded. I see a small spot next to Z and slip into it. I was super close to him but that wasn’t even the closest we had ever been. “Hey Z,” I smile and his head snaps my way. “What the hell are you doing here,” he whisper shouts in my ear. I pull back confused and look to see if he is joking. I quickly realize that he isn’t.
Before I can even ask what the hell his problem is I hear the voice of the pretty blonde. “Oh my god Trevor. You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend. She is so pretty,” she smiles across at me and I try and send her a genuine smile back. He steps away from me, bumping into the guys behind him. “Oh god no. She isn't my girlfriend,” he laughs trying to get the attention back of the blonde on him. She isn’t giving him any looking over at me with pity. The way he said the sentence was probably meant in a joking way but his laugh hurt me more than he knew.
I walk away as he is still saying how there is no way he would date me and I rush back to the table. All the negative comments from my past came flooding back. From ex-boyfriends, bullies, and haters online. I finally stumble back to the table. Jamie is the only one sitting there when I finally make my way back. “Hey so everyone went to dance or whatever but I got you this drink and didn’t want to leave it-” Jamie said and then stopped when he looked up and saw my face. He opened his mouth to say something and I shook my head,” I just wanna go home,” I said with teary eyes and a pouty lip.
He nodded and moved to stand and wanted to move toward him and hug him but my confidence was on the floor so I stopped. He noticed this and pulled me forward and wrapped his arms around me. I had only met Jamie hours ago but he was one of the most comforting people I had ever been around. I just felt safe with him. I sniffled into the collar of his shirt and his arm was on my waist keeping me in his embrace, and his other hand was in my hair holding my head. “Okay, I am gonna go tell Trevor-” he starts but I jerk my head up and look up into his blue eyes. “Please don’t,” I say with a wobbly voice.
He flashes me a confused look but nods and looks around the club finally seeing Mason over the crowd. “C’mon, we can go tell the other guys and go back okay? I’m not leaving you over here crying,” his voice is stern but also soft. He maneuvers us through the club and we finally meet up with the rest of our group. Seeing me upset and crying the guys all jump into action throwing questions at me every which way. I shake my head and they all give me a second to breathe.
“Come here mama,” Cole says opening his arms. I unwrap myself from Jamie and let Cole hold me. The others try and get an answer out of Jamie but he doesn’t know anything. “Let me go pay my tab and I’ll take you back okay,” Cole says into my hair and I shake my head. “I’m okay Coley. I swear. Plus I don’t want to ruin your night,” I sniffle pulling back from him. He goes to protest but the arrival of a pretty redhead halts the conversation.
“Hi. Uhm I don’t mean to interrupt but I was wondering if you wanted to dance,” she asked looking towards Cole and then me. I could see her starting to freak out thinking we were together but I quickly spoke up. “He would love to,” I say pushing him towards her. “You sure you are gonna be okay,” he asks looking back at me. “Of course I am. Now go dance before she changes her mind,” I laugh and the girl pulls me out on the dance floor.
“Jamie is gonna take me back to the house,” I say giving the guys hugs. When I got to Mason I gave him a quick one and he smiled,” I may not have known you as long as these guys, but say the word, and whoever it was is done for.” I laughed and thanked him before stepping back and looking up at Jamie. “You ready,” he asks and I nod. He wraps his arm around my waist and slips a finger through my belt loop keeping me close to his side. We make it back to my car and I stop. “Hey they can ride back with Z,” Jamie says opening the passenger door for me.
I nod and get into the car. He rounds the front of my car and slips into the driver's seat. He doesn’t push or try and force me to talk. He turns on the radio a little and starts to drive. “You mind if we make a quick stop,” he asks looking over at me when we hit a red light. “Sure,” I say smiling when he gets excited. He pulls into a 7/11 and looks over at me. I quirk my eyebrow at him and he jumps out of the car. He opens my door and puts his hand out for me to grab. “C’mon. Trust me,” he smiles and leads us into the gas station. We stop in front of the slurpees and he grabs two cups.
“Whenever I was sad growing up,” he starts filling up his cup with the cherry flavor,” my mom would bring me to the 7/11 down the road from our house.” I smiled at how incredibly sweet he was. “It always made me feel better when I was a kid, so I was hoping it would help you.” I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Jamie. This is the sweetest anyone has done for me in a while,” I say taking the cups from him and filling it up with the blue slurpee. “Solid choice,” he laughs paying for the both of them. I protest but it falls on deaf ears.
We get back to the car and just sit and drink our cold treats. “Thank you,” I say looking over at him. He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head a little bit. He looks like a cute puppy when he does that. “Why are you thanking me,” he asked setting his drink down. “You didn’t force me to talk about it. You are just a really good guy, Jamie,” I say looking into his eyes. “Z is an idiot,” he says looking over at me. “Who said Trevor is the one who made me cry,” I ask.
“I heard the conversation earlier. I was getting you a drink and heard him laugh and got pissed off at him. So I walked away and back to the table, then you came back,” he says reaching over and grabbing my hand. I looked down at his lips and then back up to his eyes. I started to lean in just a little and he got the clue and went to close the distance. His phone ringing ruined our moment. It was Mason calling him. “What Mase,” he asked with an attitude. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Oh hey Z,” he says looking over at me.
“Yeah, we’re cool. We made a quick stop but we are on our way. Yeah okay man,” he says shortly and hangs up. “They are all back at the house wondering how they beat us,” he laughs. I smile over at him and he starts the car. When we pull out onto the highway I reach over and put my hand over his on the console. He laces our fingers and moves his thumb along my hand
“Well would you look what the cat drug in,” I hear Jack say as we walk through the door. “You guys left like twenty minutes before us,” Alex says waiting for an explanation. I hold up my drink and he whines. “No fair. If I had known that you guys were stopping I would have gone with you,” he pouts. I laugh and give him the rest of my drink. “Also you guys missed Trev completely striking out with the bartender,” Cole laughs and Z walks into the room.
He looks over and sees Jamie and me sitting on the end of the couch together and looks confused. “I didn’t strike out,” he grumbled sitting next to me. “Oh yeah, he did, crashed and burned,” Jack laughed. “Get this she had a boyfriend and was just flirting for tips like we said,” Mason added. “That’s okay who needs her when I already have my best girl,” he says poking my side waiting on me to fall at his feet. “I don’t know Z. From where I am sitting she kinda looks like Jimmy’s best girl,” Mason smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.
Trevor looked between the two of us and waited for one of us to say something. I looked over at Jamie who smiled down at me and bumped my shoulder. I shook my head and laughed. We turned on a movie and slowly I started to drift off and cuddled into Jamie’s side. “Hey Jame? Can you promise me one thing,” Trevor says getting up and looking down at us. “What’s the promise,” Jamie asked. “Appreciate her better than I did,” he said smiling at the two of us.
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I saw your hc post with Nathan with a feminine s/o and the part where he liked listening to her talk and that got me thinking about this. He would love it if his s/o played piano. Like, he puts a piano in places like the living room and his office just so when he's there he can listen to them play. Sh maybe you could make a small hc post based on that idea
Ahh, I love this! Sorry it took me so long to post!
Nathan Bateman GN!Reader • Rating: T•Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •
Warnings: Soft!Nathan , swearing, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 455
Oh my gosh, literally pianos everywhere. You have to tell him to calm the fuck down.
“Do you want a new piano?” “No, you bought me five already.” “Do you need one in a different colour?” “No.” “What about another grand piano for the-” “Nathan.”
Doesn’t pester you to play for him, but is very happy whenever you play. Even if you’re trying out a new piece and feel like you're constantly messing up, he’s just 100% heart eyes at all times.
Will, however, act like he isn’t if you call him on it.
If you’re playing and it isn’t within his earshot you’re gonna get a series of, ‘why aren’t you playing near me so I can listen?’ type messages.
You end up just practising near him so he doesn’t complain.
You call him a baby (affectionate) about it.
He says he isn’t and sulks for 3 hours.
When you find him you show him a little song you’ve written for him.
He gets a little over emotional that you made something for him. And tries to hide it. (He does a bad job.)
Asks you to teach him how to play.
He understands the theory really well, but gets annoyed when he can’t play perfectly after 30 seconds.
“You’re really good Nathan!”
“I’m shit.”
“You can’t expect to play it perfectly the first time.”
“Why?”
You roll your eyes. “Because you have to learn the muscle memory, you couldn’t box amazingly the first time you tried could you?”
“I could.”
“Fuck off.”
You give him little lessons every day, which he adores. He progresses well, he’s obviously trying really hard, but after a couple of weeks, you realise he’s doing it more to spend time with you and to share in something you enjoy than to become a master at it. (Which surprises you.)
He likes calling you ‘bossy’ when you tell him to practise or play something. This morphs a little and sticks into a nickname, ‘boss’.
Whenever he’s on a conference call and someone asks him to do something he doesn’t want to, instead of saying a flat ‘no.’ he just starts shrugging and saying ‘you better ask the boss.’
He does not explain this to anyone, causing a lot of confusion (which he loves).
No one has any idea that you’re ‘the boss’ until a rare in-person event when Nathan isn’t being his hermit self and he refers to you by the nickname in front of a couple of staff.
What you expect to be the end of the joke turns into people asking and emailing you for permission and sign offs. (And to get Nathan to do things.)
Nathan finds this all hilarious and will not correct the situation.
Thank you for reading!
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New follower here and I have some thots imagine Noah.. trying to break down the uptight lawyer for the band. Drives him crazy in her polished suits. Total prude, pristine, doesn't joke, total business type..... all of the sudden. She hooks up with Noah and he just brings out the wild in her.... ends up being his wife.... total 180
“I do not!” You screeched while crossing your arms over your chest.
Noah smugly shrugs while leaning farther back into the office chair. It had been another boring meeting of logistics lawyer mumbo jumbo. But the entire time he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way your lips moved as you explained things to all of them; Matt intently listening out of the rest of you.
It’s been the same shit every single meeting. There really wasn’t a reason for him to be here but he still came because it meant he got to see you.
“I’m just saying, Angel. It would help.”
You blinked before straightening out your suit jacket. “Did you call me Angel?”
Noah leaned forward now, resting his elbows on the large table across from you. “I did.”
“I don’t like it,” you said while slicking back your hair that was already pulled back in a tight bun.
“Too bad,” Noah shrugged again. “It stays. Angel.”
“You’re unbelievable,” you pushed your chair away from the table but halted sitting up with his next words.
“All I’m saying is a good fuck on this table would loosen you up. I’ll even volunteer to be the one to do it.”
Also welcome to my blog! I hope you have fun here 😉
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girl dad! geto x mom! reader
-literally cannot I MEAN CANNOT!!! Mimiko and Nanako LOVE THE BABY! Like not even joking they think of her as a baby doll.
- geto puts his little princess in braids and cute hairstyles because of post partum depression. He takes charge sometimes
-“what do I do? Why is it crying?” He asked a little worried. While baby girl yuikiko is throwing herself back and closing her fists as a newborn. She’s so hungry. The nurse explains everything to him. He takes it with a grain of salt.
-takes care of you during pregnancy and your postpartum journey
-the first diaper change is hilarious. “Oh my god!-“ hello covers his mouth gagging looking away as the baby laughs. Because she has a full poopy diaper.
-the twins just laugh, when geto struggles changing yukikos diaper. “Ah little flower is going to give me a hard time.” He mumbles.
-he doesn’t understand what breast milk is until you were legit breastfeeding. “Wait can I try some?” Mother fucker inhaled that shit because it was pleasing to the tongue. puts it in his protein shake 😭
-if you feel insecure about your new mom body he’s not going to be the type of husband that says “fuck get over it.”
-he keeps on admiring your body, like when y’all had y’all’s first time together. “I have so much more respect for you now [y/n]..” he’ll whisper
-one time you came home from work watching the twins, the baby and Suguru all fall asleep, luckily the baby was alive and breathing well. Even sleeping in the portable bassinet around the house.
-is so proud that yukikos first word is mama but when he hears dada he goes feral crying. It’s giving “I’m not crying you are!”
- he is willing to teach his girls his techniques in order to defend themselves when geto is not present.
- now he calls y’all’s daughter a monkey “y/n! this damn monkey baby is putting things it’s in mouth!”
-(when the baby learns to pull hair he regrets it) “okay okay I’m sorry it’s a her my bad!!” 💀
- like fr though he loves your daughter even when she eats her food in nothing but a diaper and strapped in a high chair because she’s exploring taste and texture
-“I’m gonna protect you from everything that’ll potentially and will put you in danger on your mama.”
- one time he let gojo babysit it did not end well (he lost her by almost sealing her with another curse because he wasn’t watching her while she was crawling around) 😭😭
- the baby is very much a daddy’s girl so whatever baby girl wants baby girl gets
-also he holds your hand while holding the baby when she gets her ears pierced. (He shedded more tears than the baby) then the baby was fine after she was given a bottle of milk.
-“she’s fine?”
-the baby tries to hit Suguru for no damn reason ON PURPOSE (when she’s a bit older and can move her arms during that development)
-“OW SHE BIT ME!” the twins will laugh
-the twins will try to feed the baby baby food but wanna watch the baby feed herself.
-“ why is yukiko eating her foot?”
-“ask y/n”
-“why is yukiko eating her foot?”
-“I think she discovered it”
-he’s there for every milestone and trying to record it.
-lots of pictures and videos of the baby with the girls and you.
-when the baby is tired and screaming crying, and you’re not there singing to her. Suguru discovered his singing soothes the baby (regardless if it sounds bad on purpose or not) or if he sings bad lmao
-and geto would never want anything to change because he loves his little family
#⋆˚✿˖° osita’s chisme time#dad!geto suguru x reader fluff#ˏˋ ╎ ⁀➷ osita chisme time ´ˎ˗#jjk headcanons#jjk imagines#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader fluff#suguru geto#jjk x reader#⍣ ೋ osita’s loves#jjk x y/n#jjk x poc!reader#jjk x latina! reader#jjk x black reader#bears chisme♡︎#jjk masterlist#˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ositas jjk masterlist
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Straight-A Student
Andy Barber x You / Reader
Warning: Smut, Fluff and Smut, a lil angst?, Alternate Universe - College / University, Teacher-Student Relationship, Professor!Andy Barber, Student!Reader, Student!You, Pet Names (sweetheart, baby, sweet girl, sweet thing), Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, spanking, talking about Dom/Sub, implied Dom/Sub, authority kink, choking if you squint, possessive Andy Barber, rough sex
Word count: 3k
Summary: You argue with Andy, during your ninth date.
A/N: Part of the conversation came up by @rogerswifesblog <3
Dancing in the Daydream M. List
“Hey,” Andy breaks your kiss, lips tracing your forehead, muttering your name. He is panting because of the passionate kiss you shared, “… I should probably drive you home.”
You wish you could contain your anger. You really wish you could.
“What the HELL, Andy?” You snap, swatting away his arm around your waist, “WHAT THE HELL?”
To be fair, you have every reason to be angry with him.
This is the third time when he pushes you away during a heated kiss, either saying ridiculous shit about “driving you home” or waving you goodbye in front of your apartment.
This is the ninth date! NINE fucking dates and two months. That’s where you are, kissing.
And only kissing plus something PG-13.
“Is there something wrong with me? Or…” something’s wrong with Andy, but you didn’t say that out loud, “are we a thing?” You ask, unable to understand why the second before sex he’ll push you away, “why’d you do that?”
Of all the boys you’ve dated, no one made it past the fourth date and still didn’t mention sex.
Apart from Andy, apparently, who is not just any “boy”.
No, he is your fucking professor from last semester. And since classes are over, one encounter in the pub turns into more, which turns into dates, which turns you head over heels for him, which leads you to this precise moment.
Andy tries to hold your hand. Judging by your hurt expression, he lowers his palm to your knees. “N-No! I mean we’re…There’s nothing wrong with you.” He licks his lips, stuttering to explain.
“Then what the hell Andy? I like you and want to have sex with you.” You sigh in frustration, looking down at the short sundress barely covering half your thigh.
It is a cute sundress, light blue, with white daisies patterns. You choose this dress tonight with sex in mind-why else would he ask you to come to his house “for dinner”?
Now you despise your own interpretation of his invitation.
“For dinner” actually means “dinner” and no sex.
Har Har. Joke’s on you.
Andy massages your bare skin with his palm gently. He doesn’t even attempt his hands to go a bit higher under your dress, only warming your knees with his hand. “It’s not you-please,” he trips over his words, “I-I like you too, it’s just…”
You’ve had enough, “one last chance, Andy, or I’m walking out of this door.”
You set a ten-second countdown silently.
Nine.
Eight.
What’s the worse that could happen? He has erectile dysfunction?
Seven.
He visibly gulps, looking more nervous than before.
Six.
Andy? Nervous?
Five.
Four.
Looks like you are walking out of that door after all. You glance at your handbag, planning for an exit.
Three.
Brilliant. You will never date anyone older than you ever again.
Two.
You are only making yourself look bad by pushing him.
One.
Great.
“I-” “I have… needs.” You and Andy speak simultaneously. His voice lower, hesitant. He realizes he’s cutting off your words, mumbling a quiet “sorry”.
You are perplexed, to say the least. “Needs…? Sure. What needs?”
Andy looks like a balloon, full of air a minute ago when you were kissing, but now, the air drained, “I… I like to be dominant during sex. I like,” he swallows a lump down his throat, unable to meet your eyes, “holding my partner still, I like telling them what to do.”
The words are weighing him down, instead of up. The more he speaks, the more his heart dies.
“I like going rough. Leave marks on them. Bruises.”
Every sentence feels like torture.
“I want to discipline my partner.” The proper word is, “…spanking. I want control.” He winces.
Silence.
He knows he is going to regret it by the morning, when the headline of the university news would be “Professor Andy Barber, A Sadist in Life AND Sex”.
You are completely awe-struck for a minute.
You weren’t expecting this.
Not even a little.
But damn didn’t what he confessed make you feel things.
Good things.
First, you need to make this clear, “you are into BDSM … stuff?”
“Dom/Sub and bondage. Yes.”
More silence.
He is ruined.
He is completely over.
He messed up the chance with you.
Andy buries his face in his hands, hoping it could make things easier if he doesn’t see you walk away.
“Spanking, as if, the kind of spanking we get as a kid?” You swallow thickly, feeling your pussy clench with his response.
“Yes.”
It takes your whole body not to shake at his words.
“Can we… umm, try that?” You whisper.
Andy raises his head from his palms, turning to look at you, “I’m sorry?”
This must be a dream.
He is dreaming.
He pinches his wrist to make sure he is in the real world.
A sharp pain nearly has him yelp.
For Christ’s sake, you are asking him to spank you.
He returns your question with another, “you tried spanking before?”
Honestly? No.
You’ve had sex before, that’s for sure. Plain vanilla. Sometimes you have to fake your own orgasm to protect their fragile ego.
There’s nothing wrong with vanilla. It’s fine. It’s only a bit dull. Like there’s something missing. Something you’ve read about, “la petite mort”, dying a little. You’ve always wondered what’s it like.
No, you have never tried spanking before. But your unsettling heartbeat in your ears tells you it might be the solution to what you are looking forward to. To be put down. Maybe a little fight and struggle. To be taken.
“No, but I want to give it a shot.” You admit shyly. You blush from head to toe. The air in his apartment suffocating you. Heating you. Wrapping a hand around your neck – no, wait, that’s Andy. Andy caresses your jawline with his thumb, his blue eyes blown wide, and he nods, “before we get anything started, you need a safe word. It can’t be ‘no’ or ‘stop’, that could confuse me with you actually wearing out. Pick something short and irrelevant to sex. When you say it, it means a full stop to whatever I’m doing. Something you can remember and pronounce clearly. Something like fruit? Apple?”
“Yeah, apple sounds good.”
“Okay.” He pecks your lips, then orders you with a soft voice, “lie across my lap. On your stomach.”
He holds on to your shoulder to help you lie down. His jeans feel rough, even with a thin piece of dress between your body and his.
You don’t know where to put your arms, when he rubs the back of your neck and tells you to get comfortable.
You put your arms above your head, touching the soft material of the couch.
He moves your body slightly, for your ass to perch up.
“It’s all about relaxing.” He runs a hand down your bare thigh, warming the cool skin under his palm. He explains calmly what he is going to do, when the muscles on your waist are no longer tense, and your body gains a rhythmic speed of breathing, “I’m going to spank you ten times. Start with a small swat, and I will go harder. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes.” You reply shakily.
“Shhh. Don’t be scared, sweet thing.” He lands a kiss on your spine, his hand still massaging your thighs, his other hand spread over your upper back, giving you the soothing warm you need, his voice dropping to a whisper, “you can always safe word when it’s too much.”
Your body melts to his touch.
“One more thing.” He mutters, “could you be a good girl for me and count your spanking?”
The first slap is nothing more than a small pat on your right cheek. Even so, you count as he asked you to: “One.”
“One, Sir.” He corrects you, flipping the thin piece of dress to your waist as you unmistakably feel his shaft hardens under your soft stomach.
Bet he didn’t see your black lacy panties coming, huh?
“One, Sir.” You repeat what he says, biting your lower lip to stiffen a giggle.
The next blow comes harder to your bare flesh. A smack with no actual force. There’s not even a sting.
“Two, Sir.” You breathe steadily as he trails his left hand up and down your spine.
Somehow, you know the next blow is a real spanking instead of the last two playful swats.
A patch of sting blooms on your right cheek when he lands the third smack, dissipating quickly into your skin.
You let out a small squeal, “three, Sir.”
Your clit is aching for some touch. You press your thighs together for some comfort, but he stops your squirming with a warning pinch on your thigh.
“None of that.” He tuts, a hint of dominance in his voice, “getting needy, are you?”
Your whimper turns into another squeal when the fourth smack meets your cheek. The sting leaves for a longer period of time, still not truly painful.
“I asked you a question. I expect you to answer, sweetheart.” Andy squeezes your cheek with his fingers, kneading your ass as the pain grows fainter.
You grab onto the smooth sofa surface. The tinge of pain blooms into your wetness down your core. You crave something more at your entrance. Something stronger. Something harder.
“Four, Sir. Yes, Sir.” Your face flushed-red, abashed by your confession.
You yelp as the final blow to your right cheek paint your ass pink, even only for a couple of seconds. You forget all about counting his smacks as the buzz of pleasure leaves your body. Andy’s palm massages your tender skin slowly, turning you around to face him, “is that too tense for you, sweet girl?” His eyes nothing short of worry and concern, cerulean blue orbs filled with warmth.
His action speaks more than his words: Did he hurt you? Does he need to stop? Do you need to safe word?
“No. I’m good.” A shy smile hanging on the corner of your lips, “Sir.”
Andy closes his eyes and groans, “you’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.”
He flips you over with one fluid motion, delivering the next five smacks on your ass as promised. He watches as your skin blooms with pink traces of his spanking, clenching his teeth when you count each one. His cock strained in his boxers, painfully hard. He wants to paint your pink ass with his cum, the milky substance drips down your thigh, making a mess on…
“Can I have some more… Sir?” You look over your shoulders, lifting your body from his lap slightly, “a little harder, maybe?” You chew on your lower lip, in anticipation of his answer.
You crave more, after your spanks. His blows are not enough. You want his hands to come down just a little harder. And deep down, you can tell he is still holding back. Probably because he’s afraid of scaring you.
Yet you want it.
You want him behind this façade. You want him for all he is. You want to see the worst he can do to you.
You are so excited about his unfiltered dominance.
Andy chokes on your request, but huffs out a laugh.
They were married for ten years, and Laurie refused his dominance for ten years.
Laurie never wanted any of this. Laurie never liked any of this. Laurie thought BDSM was sick.
Not like young people saying skateboards and weed kind of “sick”.
The other kind.
The bad kind.
So, he hid that side of him away from her, tucked it into a dark corner in his mind, locked it, and threw away the key.
While you.
You found the key.
You unleashed the beast inside him.
Feeding it more of your given-up control.
He nudges your elbow to have you lie back in place, and mutters, “since you’ve asked so nicely… three each. Be a good girl and remind me of your safe word, will you?”
“Apple.”
“God you’re perfect.” He combs your hair to the side, rubbing circles on your back, planting a small kiss on your lower waist.
A loud smack has your body spasm, your nails bite into your palm, and you wince for the first time.
This is exactly what you need. What you want. What you crave.
“One, Sir.”
The sharp pain spreads with the numbing sensation. The shade of dark pink stays on your skin. Pain blend into pleasure, shooting sparks down your core. Andy kneads your ass until it doesn’t hurt anymore, which is only a matter of seconds.
Smack.
“Two, Sir.”
He could see the palmprint, covering the previous spank, leaving a beautiful pink imprint. He doesn’t wait to deliver the third blow.
“Ah-Three, Sir.”
Your ass is numb. Smack overlapping smack is both pleasure and torture to your delicate skin.
Three more smacks on your other cheek, and you know your core is leaking. The wet patch of lace clings to your soaking pussy, making you want to squirm.
“Fuck.” He pulls you close to sit on his lap, devouring you in a searing kiss, “fuck, you’re so good for me baby.” Andy rests his forehead with yours. Your pussy grinds over his bulge, when his hand kneads your ass. “I want you, Andy,” you moan into his mouth, your lips burning for his beard, but that’s what you want, “I want you, Sir. Please.”
Succumbing to his needs. Succumbing to his wish.
He makes it all so easy.
He makes you thirsty for more.
Andy wants to take you, right here, right now.
Rip you to pieces just to put you back together.
But no. The Couch isn’t the nicest place to take you.
“Bed.” He pants into your hair, kissing your temple, “bedroom.”
A tangled mess of limbs, groping, and kissing brings the both of you to his bed.
You are out of the restraints of your clothes in no time, eager to pull him down for more kisses, dragging him down, grasping the base of his neck, clawing his back.
Even if you are occupied with his kisses, your hands tell you all about his body.
He is built. Strong. Muscles flex under your touch. He has pecs, but you don’t bother counting them with your fingers, reaching for his shaft. Pumping it in your hand.
His thick girth twitches, oozing pre-cum, damping your palm, when he looks you in the eyes. Lip swollen, pupils blown, Andy gazes into your eyes, breathing out one single thing: ”Safe word?”
“I’m good. No need.” You giggle to pull him to your lips again, when he flips you over single-handedly, his shaft pressing against your ass. The pink shade on your skin long gone.
He puts a condom on, before covering your body with his, your back to his chest, “fuck, I want to spank your ass sore till you can’t sit on a damn chair without thinking about me.” He pushes himself into your tight channel entirely, hissing, groaning, kissing your shoulder and neck.
It is a fucking dream come true.
You pinned under his large frame, taken, fucked. Fisting the sheets, the pillows, his arm, his bicep. Your hips arched up, being pounded into. His balls smacking your clit. His hand sneaks around your throat, holding your chin so he can kiss your neck easier. His other hand holding your waist, gripping so hard it might bruise.
He doesn’t care.
No, he cares. He wants bruises. He wants you sore. He wants you pumped full of cum.
Slick runs down your thighs, gushes out of your pussy.
You have never been fucked this hard.
Tears slide down your cheeks, dampen your hairline, as you are being rutted into. His tip brushes your cervix. Ramming you into the mattress.
Rearranging your guts.
“Jesus. Fuuuck-” You moan into the sheets – his hand when he starts losing grip. When your bodies are slick with sweat. When his hand slide to your chin.
You didn’t mean to dart out your tongue, but you taste the salty sweat in his palm. Engulfed in his cologne.
You suck on his finger. His thumb, to be precise. Toying it with your tongue and swollen lips. Biting it when he rams into you.
He sputters a curse, “fuck, you’re trouble.”
Andy smears your saliva on your lips and your chin, pulling out his thumb so that he could hear your moans and whimpers, “poor pussy will be ruined tomorrow.” He rasps into your ear, “tell me, who’s making you feel this good?”
“You, Andy.” You choke on a scream, “you. Sir. Professor. You.”
He rams into you harder every time you squeak a new word for him, for all of him.
He bites your shoulder and rubs harshly on your clit, his dick twitching, cumming, shooting ropes of cum into the thin piece of rubber. Your walls pulsate. Creaming his dick. White hot pleasure burns to the very tip of your nerves.
He quickly throws away the condom before climbing back onto the bed with you. Panting. Breathing rapidly. Having an arm around your shoulders as you flip yourself over on your back.
“You did great, baby.” He murmurs to your hair, kissing the top of your head. He knows it probably doesn’t bother you anymore, but he has to ask, “does your ass still hurt?”
“No.” You rub your chin on his bicep, looking into his warm blue eyes, “not bad yourself, Professor Barber.” You smirk, teasing him a little, “you make a great teacher. Even outside of class.”
He chuckles at your words, capturing your wandering hand for a kiss, “well, I’d give you a B+ or even an A. Though we should probably work on your-”
You smack his arm, “ANDY!”
“OH, okay. B then, for your attitude.” He raises his brows to your “challenge”, earning another playful smack.
You push yourself up on your elbow, hogging most of the sheet because he annoys you, “is there any chance to…” your fingers circle his chest in a seductive way, “I don’t know… argue my marks?”
Andy pulls you down for a kiss, grinning in contentment with you in his arms, “lemme see your efforts. Perhaps I’ll change my mind for my favorite straight-A student.”
#andy barber#andy barber smut#andy barber x you#andy barber x reader#andy barber x female reader#defending jacob#professor andy barber#student reader#possessive andy barber#andy barber fluff#andy barber fanfiction#dancing in the daydream#straight a student
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No Joke
Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN!Reader
Warnings: Cognitohazard, profanity, mentions of Peanut (SCP-173).
A/N: Well, SCP x CoD? At last? This is based on the idea an anon gave me on my latest ask.
Simon noticed that the whole time, you were only staring at your dinner. Something felt off. You texted him earlier that you were released home early from work and that was not exactly making sense to him.
All Simon knew about your job was that you were military. He knew you were a part of a mobile task force, but for whom he had no idea. Whether it was a company or a government, he had no idea.
Also, your job paid you well. Your wages were way more than his.
Most of the time, Simon was not worried. He knew you were tough and could take care of yourself. However, this time was different. He felt something different.
You were sent home early. Something must have happened. It must be something bad because you were not blinking.
“You alright, love?” Simon asked.
“Yeah,” you answered, not looking up from your plate.
“You haven’t exactly been…,” Simon thought of a fitting word.
“Eating?” you asked.
“Blinking,” Simon clarified.
The mention of that made you look up at Simon and blinked. It was a relief for your eyes. You blinked a few more times, gently pressing the inner corners of your eyes.
“What happened?” Simon asked.
“I… something happened at work and I didn’t realise I brought it home. I’m sorry,” you rambled.
“What stuff?” Simon continued.
Here the two of you were back again. You had not been telling Simon anything work related and he got more and more worried every single time.
In the moment you and Simon were exchanging a glance, you came to a realisation that sooner or later you would have to tell him. The softest the conversation was, the more ideal it would be. This second was not exactly ideal, but it was not as harsh as the previous conversations.
“There’s a containment breach at work and I’m the first person to witness the entity. It took them some time to realise that a certain containment was… breaching and I had to stand in the toilet, where I saw it, for almost an hour without blinking. I couldn’t even move,” you explained.
Simon raised his eyebrow and scrunched them at the same time. His hand stopped the spoon that was about to get into his mouth.
“Then, they sent people in and three people died within my arms reach in less than a second because we blinked at the wrong time,” you added. “After that, I still have to stare at this thing for the next half an hour while we put it into the container because apparently it’s my job.”
Putting down his utensils, Simon tried to make sense of your description. This was the most you had spoken of your job and he did not exactly understand what exactly your job was.
The choices of words you had were quite interesting. It took him another second to realise what you were talking about.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon said. “You’re working for the bloody Foundation.”
You were not surprised by his guess. In fact, it was a relief that you did not have to be the one to say it out loud.
“Yeah,” you said.
For a moment, Simon only looked at you.
“Are you fucking serious?” Simon questioned. “Bloody fuckin’ hell… this—what the fuck?”
You were the one looking at him confused now.
“I don't know much about the Foundation, but I know enough,” Simon said. “You’re dealing with some shit there, love, way more dangerous than the ones I’m dealing with day to day.”
“To be fair, the day to day is pretty much like every other forces. We do absolutely nothing. I’m dealing with the dangerous stuff only when there’s shit going on,” you explained. “Like this morning. Besides, I’m not usually the expendable soldier, this morning was just an accident.”
Simon pushed his chair back and stood next to your seat. He was not one to usually initiate an affectionate gesture, but this time he pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you.
You pressed your face against his chest, wrapping your arms around his hips.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you any of those,” you said.
“Hey, look at me,” Simon lifted your face up with his hand. “You know what I do for a living and the shit I’m dealing with. If there’s a leak in my job, it won’t be me.”
You exhaled.
“I was so scared and my eyes are so dry, but I can’t bring myself to blink because I’m scared that something would snap my neck if I do,” you piled.
“Nothing’s here but you and I, love,” Simon promised. “You’re safe.”
You wrapped your arms around him tighter and he responded the same. Eventually, Simon sat down on the chair next to you and pulled you onto his lap. You sat on his thigh, resting your cheek on his head.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Simon asked.
“Because you’ll be worried. Besides, the Foundation’s pretty strict with their assets. Most of the things I know are classified,” you answered. “I don’t want you to be worried.”
“I’ll always be worried. Your job is dangerous. Mine is like a walk in the park compared to yours,” Simon said.
“I’m still worried about you,” you admitted.
“You should be worrying more about yourself,” Simon said. “It’s no joke, anomalies.”
“I’ll always come back to you,” you promised.
“I appreciate that,” Simon said. “Now, you gotta eat your dinner and we’ll get you relaxed afterwards. You’ve had a rough day.”
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Genshin Men Snoring
THIS IS PURE CRACK LOL
Relations; Albedo, Ayato, Alhaitham, Cyno,, Kazuha, Thoma, Pierro, Zhongli x GN!Reader
Warnings: uhm…snores? the word babe and sweetie are used just once
Albédo
- i don’t think he snores??
- like I can’t tell cuz he’s not exactly human
- if he does he only lets out those short snores every once In a while
- what I mean by that is it’s once every half an hour but it’s so LOUD AND INTENSE
- AWOOP JUMPSCARE
- you can sleep that night though but if ur randomly awake cuz u can’t sleep and u hear it…
- I’m not even joking you might flinch so bad you’ll fly off the bed
- it only happens when he’s in DEEP sleep like if he hasn’t had sleep for days
Ayato
- they’re so magnificent
- idk how to explain it?
- like they’re very LIGHT snores so you’ll sleep easily thag night
- it’s just if ur laying on his chest ITS SO BAD
- like they’re such magnificent snores but his chest rumbles rlly badly
- I think he’s an angel
- like they r SO ANGELIC
- they’re every 5 mins though
-you’ll be able to sleep that night dw
Alhaitham
- It takes a LOT of time to get used too
- It’s the last thing anyone would expect because he’s a quiet and reserved person
- and he snores so harshly that even you are shocked
- thankfully it’s only when he’s had very stressful days
- he always has stressful days.
- they’re harsh and loud and Kaveh can hear them from across the house
Cyno
- THANK FUCKONG GOD HE DOES NOT SNORE
- if he ever does they are very light
- they’re not as angelic as Ayato’s but calm
- it’s only once in a while so you’re good!
- you indeed can sleep every night
- it gets annoying when he’s holding you and if it’s on a day where he didn’t have much sleep and it’s DEEP, he’s snoring right in your ear
Kazuha
- he snores like the wind
- get it
- I’m so funny
- the snores are AIR
- first time sleeping with him you might confuse his snores for a fart
- “beidou he’s farting constantly when we sleep together what the fuck do u feed him?”
- “no sweetie those are just his snores”
- you r indeed able to fall asleep though
Thoma
- GUYS HE ACC GOES LIKE “MIMIMIMII”
- ITS FUCKING HILARIOUS
- very light snorted but they can get a little bit louder sometimes, but they ALWAYS end up with “MIKIMIMI”
- he’s such a light sleeper that his own snores scare him
- “babe did u hear that?”
- “yes it was ur fucking snores”
Pierro
- that man has snores from 1000s of years held back
- they’re so fucking loud even the Tsaritsa is praying for you
- HALF THE HARBINHERS FEEL BAD FOR YOU
- Pierro will prob come rlly late at night while you’re asleep
- you won’t hear him cuz it’s late and ur so tired
- then the first snore comes out AND UR WIDE AWAKE
- ITS SO SCARY
- IT SOUNDS LIKE A DEMON HAS CORRUPTED HIM
- takes weeks and maybe even months to get used too
- just imagine this convo after the first few nights of sleeping together
- “childe he sounds like a DEMON.”
- “did you know the Tsaritsa actually prayed for you when the two of you started sleeping together?”
Zhongli
- ur not fucking sleeping.
- he’s worst than Pierro
- I think all of Liyue can hear him.
- your gonna walk by Madame ping one day and she’ll literally say “do you want some special tea to stop his snoring?”
- He has SIX THOUSAND YEARS of snores held in bro
- the adepti gotta pray to Barbatos or some shit so Zhongli doesn’t bear the prayers
- if the last points weren’t enough, his are very harsh and at one point the whole room was shaking cuz he let out the harshest most intense snore
- takes MONTHS to get used too.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin fic#childe genshin impact#genshin impact thoma#albedo x reader#genshin albedo#albedo genshin impact#albedo x you#albedo x y/n#genshin impact ayato#kamisato ayato x reader#genshin ayato#alhaitham x y/n#genshin alhaitham#alhaitham x you#alhaitham x reader#genshin cyno#cyno x y/n#cyno x reader#cyno x you#kaedehara kazuha x reader#genshin impact kazuha#thoma x you#thoma x reader#pierro x you#pierro x reader#pierro genshin#zhongli x reader#zhongli x you
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𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 | choi san x fem!reader
PART TWO of : have your way with words, be my people pleaser
"Why? Am I not allowed to care now?"
𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: He usually doesn’t drink this much. No, maybe he does, but it definitely shouldn’t make San act like this.
It must be a trap, you think, but you’ve already fallen for him, so there’s nothing you can do except not getting your heart broken.
"As if you could care."
𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: smut, angst, fluff (if you squint)
𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 7.1k
𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): alcohol, san is drunk, reader doesn't fuck drunk people, lack of communication, non-penetrative sex, fingering, squirting, aftercare, showering, sleeping together (in a bed)
𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: prologue + main part, finished
𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: please know that i wrote this before ateez drank in their video so any sign of projection is like just ... bad luck LMAO but uhhhhhh yeah here's the start of the A N G S T of it all so enjoy lol !!! <33
𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲
unknown number: sannie i think i left my phone at your place
unknown number: oh wait
unknown number: yeah i’m an idiot
unknown number: how do i delete this message
unknown number: btw is my name still “unknown number”
unknown number: because you should really change that
“That’s our thing,” he laughs, “she’s smart and all, but every time we hook-up, it’s like, I’m seriously fucking her stupid.“
His roommate snickers and looks at the contact name.
“So, uh, what are you two?”
“Hm?”
“You guys have good chemistry! Or are you going to keep up with the whole “sex-buddies” schtick? She seems cool, why not give her a chance?“
“Nah.. You know I can’t get myself involved in that again, Seonghwa. My last relationship.. I get goosebumps just thinking about it, really. I think she wouldn’t even want that, too. It’s all just jokes and fun between us.”
“Really?“
He turns off his phone.
“Okay, only sometimes, I guess.” He smirks. “But I really like that about her, actually. She doesn’t do it as much now, but, uhm.. she compliments me a lot?”
“San, you’re so fucked up.”
𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞? 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.
“Hey, it’s me! Open the door~!", his voice rings and San should be very happy you’re still awake at 3 AM on a Sunday. “Let me in!”, he repeats and it’s not a loud, aggressive shout, but urgent enough to snap you out of your mindlessly scrolling-cycle on your phone and make you question whether you’ve heard correctly or are imagining things.
It’s a very bold move, really, thinking that your home is free for him to come at any given time, and if it wasn’t for the unnecessarily sweet drunken “pretty please?” that follows right after his demand, you would have gladly let him walk all the way to his own residency, but you’re weak, weak for him, so even though you do hesitate, the door is opened with almost no significant time having passed.
“Well, good morning,” you chuckle and watch the man lean against the frame with his head, his legs unable to hold the weight of his upper body. He’s wearing his usual fit of a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans, but his blushed cheeks, the smell of sweet tangy fruits and other sour substances tells you more about his evening than you need to ask for. It’s also not helping that his lips look swollen, smudged with red lipstick that he definitely tried to get rid of with a lot of rubbing on the way here — San's had a long night and he's waiting for it to get longer.
“I can’t drive like this,” San explains and his eyes are barely opening while he tries to keep a serious tone as he speaks in short-cut sentences, “and you were nearby... so now I’m here.”
“Did I ask? Get in here, Sannie.”
You grab his arm, or at least try to get your hand around his thick bicep and drag him inside, the door closing with a thump. “Thank you~,” San giggles and it takes a lot to not make him stumble completely onto you, you managing to put him down on your couch with your whole body-power, his face immediately plunging into one of the pillows.
“Where’s your jacket?”, you ask, as you stare holes into his muscular back and broad shoulders.
“Didn’t wear one,” he lisps through the fabric and his voice is raspy.
“Dumbass."
Trying to help him, you decide you’re going to get him a cup of water, but before you can let loose of him and disappear into the kitchen, San grabs you by your hand, immediately crossing his fingers into yours.
“No, stay,” San begs with a soft-spoken voice, face still planted into the couch, and he doesn’t know what those words are doing to you. Yeah, you guys have been having one or two one-night-stands too many with the unspoken promise to plead no hard feelings, but it’s him. Catching feelings for San hasn’t been something you’ve deliberately made the attempt to avoid.
But maybe you would have, if you’d known how painful it was going to be.
“Your hands are so soft,” he daydreams, a melody accompanying his rambling, “so soft and warm, like- like everything about you. I was actually just thinking about that on the way here! I don’t know if you noticed, but I really like holding your hands. They fit so perfectly around everything, and really everything— it’s amazing, really, really… amazing.”
“Funny of you to say that,” you comment on his drunk sweet-talk with a tired— but still entertained— sigh and stand there, dumbfounded, his hand sweating into yours. Is this the same guy that told you that he was uneasy when someone (namely his girlfriend) held his hand?
“Why funny? It’s my truth! Your hands are one of your best assets, second to.. your lips, maybe?”
“How shameless!”
Of course he’s absolutely boozed right now, but it’s been well-established to you that San only wears his silly loveable himbo-mask only when he’s subconsciously benefitting from it. Once you two had met up enough to have gotten comfortable with each other, San’s “nerdy” personality had magically disappeared, leaving you with one confident, prude-ishly sex-seeking macho. The “Sannie” you were looking for has somehow vanished into small moments and yes, it’s not like you haven’t been the one trying to crack through his shy façade for your own enjoyment in the first place, but you do miss watching the cheeky guy push up his glasses during your studies, glancing over at you from time to time, blushing, when he catches you staring back.
“Shame finds no place between us, does it~?”
Yet, exam season is over, has been over for a longer time now, which only makes it more evident that San is trying to find excuses to come over for reasons that go below bonding emotionally by miles. Sure, the hook-ups have been fun, exhilaratingly so. He’s all yours, San says repeatedly, but once you’d realised that he was still casually seeing other people, and it was just a saying, but worse, had felt an aching sting inside your breast when you had done so, yeah, fuck, that has been the moment you’ve known that having sex with this man isn’t enough: You have fallen in love (or something similar) with San and a serious relationship is the seal to quench your thirst for his affection.
“I guess we’ve got rid of shame a long time ago, huh,” you answer non-chalantly.
His hands are soft too. His lips are like one addictive book you can’t help but stick your face into, breathe in the words they say, inhale the soothing scent and make it your perfume — you’re smitten for him. You can’t begin to fathom the dread you feel when something inside you ever-so enchantingly tickles when San giggles, acknowledging your ways: "That's who we are!"
He knows that it's not who you "are" as he sits there on your couch, fingers interlocking, it’s… well, who you had been.
Two people who didn't have to think before they said anything, be free with their thoughts in order to relieve them from the stress that came from maintaining concentration and quality. Have you been with him enough to say you miss the older San? The sweet, sometimes silly Sannie?
"You’re my stupid whore, don't you forget!”
No, time alone can’t tell that. But even the sweetest strawberries mold when they're not eaten and waiting is a tiring process.
“Yeah.”
For the short time you've known and yearned for San, he’s been in multiple committed relationships, which is one of the reasons why it has taken you two so long to finally fuck, and it hasn’t really bothered you while you hadn’t, since you couldn’t know what you were missing out on.
But now— though you’ve never seen him be with his girlfriends— you have gathered enough information to know that San’s got it in him. He doesn’t like talking about his endeavours and you could only get a little bit of small-talk with Seonghwa about it, yet from what you know now, your college “love”-experiences don’t come even one inch close to the romances he’s been in; you can’t help but find yourself fantasising about his sweet ways of loving.
You have had enough of half-assery, enough of hangovers, and the thing is, you desperately don’t want San to be your next failed situationship. Knowing that he is single, that right now, he is able to be taken— taken by you— but him still not being yours; it makes you question things you haven’t stopped to question about yourself when being with other people. Like, what do you have to do, what do you have to be in order for San to not visit some dumb party in the first place? He hasn’t visited as many parties when you were just “study-buddies”, why is he visiting them now?
It— whatever “it” is— has developed into something like a challenge, making San want you and only you. Turns out though, that stuff is more difficult than anything you've been doing for college. At least when you had to study, San wasn’t going around having fucking other women.
“Were you gonna leave me?”
Yes, of course you feel pathetic thinking about it like this; you know it’s all an error in communication in regards to your “friends with benefits”-lifestyle you and San are carrying out, but if it has gotten you two together the first time around, the manifestation must work the second time: That’s the only trust you have and it’s enough to keep you going and engage in San's unannounced rendezvous.
"No, you sound like you needed water, that’s all.”
For a while, San just breathes heavily into the pillow and you caress his finger. It does remind you a little bit of the movie-nights you've had with him in the past, when you tried to make your hands touch inside the popcorn like some lovesick child. Maybe it has never been about the sex.
His finger twitches as if he's already gone to slumber, but when you scuffle to get him a blanket at least, San yanks you back down.
“No! Noo, I need you, nothing else! Stay here, please,” he thrums, lurking from the pillow to wink at you, though before you can react to this sentence, San mutters, "I'm not going to fall asleep. I'm not tired, I'm just exhausted." That's the same thing, Sannie.
“Where were you, anyways?”, you ask and make yourself comfortable, San’s and your hands placed on the edge of the sofa, while his stomach lays flat over the whole surface, legs extended out.
“Where I was? Good question,” San lulls, laughing a little bit, "Seonghwa brought me as his plus one to one of his friend’s birthday party, that’s where I was!”
“Sounds nice,” you hum. “Didn’t know you were a cocktail-type of person, though.”
“Oh, do I smell?”
“Mhm—“
“But you’re right, actually, I’m not a long drink-drinker,” San falls in. Your eyes still being closed, you feel his soft, heated cheek against the surface of your hand, his swollen lips chafing subtly against your fingers. “But some girls came by with trays of self-made cocktails and… we couldn’t say no, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” you answer to just have answered something to fill in the silence. You can smell the saccarine scent in his T-shirt and you fear it's going to paint off from his saliva he's spreading onto your palm as San places kisses around your hand. "What do you think you're doing?", you ask sarcastically.
"Nothing?", San giggles, becoming a bit more eager with the smooches.
You've experienced him drunk a lot of times already, but usually he only drinks just up until the point where he can keep his “educated” tone to a perceivable level of sobriety. But as of right now, in contrast, he seems to be way loose, swimming somewhere in between of lust and senselessness, which irritates you more than it should.
That is another thing that has changed after a while you two had sex. You are perceiving him differently, more and more differently each time San exits through your door, leaving an emptiness inside you that another person can’t fill, by whatever measure possible. But apparently, the same doesn’t happen for him with you, and you have to convince yourself you can change that every single day.
“We should party together more often,” he inclines, “what do you like to drink?”
“Whatever’s available and does its job, I suppose.”
He giggles, gasping at your answer. “You don’t care about taste?”
“I mean, drink enough and everything is going to taste the same anyway, no?”
"Let's do it."
"Huh?"
"I'm in the mood right now~ Are you in the mood right now?"
You scoff and open your eyes, revealing a San piercing his sunken gaze through you, cupping his cheek with your hand surface like you’re a saint healing him, his nose glazed red, and his lips remain pinkishly stained — in the mood.
This is not Sannie, but your guts still churn in amazement at the sight. The fatigue is wearing off; the sight of the black-haired man caressing himself with you is... "appealing" to say the least. It looks like he’s devoting himself to you, but you’d be a lovelorn fool to think this to be true.
“Or am I too drunk?”, San asks, pouting. “I may sound like this, but I’m really not that drunk anymore, I swear!” He pushes his eyebrows down, seemingly trying to appear serious, but failing to do so.
“You don’t need to swear anything, San.”
Gritting your teeth, you try to maintain a smile towards the drunken man as benevolently as you can. Of course he came for only one thing and one thing only, regardless of how cute he's huffing against your words; here are you, thinking that San was trying to get you as his plus one just like Seonghwa did.
Fuck, he’s still so hot though, there is no way of denying that. The first attraction has never worn off and you’re still head over heels for this man who’s booping your nose tip with his finger on the hand that is intertwined with your own.
“So, what do you say, sweety?”
It only takes one look towards his private area to know that San’s pants are almost exploding from how hard he’s become, his bulge being a face-forward sign inquiring sex.
“San, you know I won’t. It didn’t work the last time, don’t recall?”, you whoop.
He tries to kiss you, but fails to do so, as San misses your lips by an inch and falls to the floor. Your hands finally separate and you rub the inner burning space between your fingers as you remind him of the time when he’d drunk-texted you a message asking for "a quickie". San had made no spelling mistakes, but it had been very clear he had went to a party and returned sexually unsatisfied.
“Yeah, but that was via SMS. Now I’m here, and like, I even found my way to you, and they lived— like three blocks away, so I'm able to orientate myself, see?”, San corrects you.
“Impressive, but it doesn't change anything.”
“Morals?”
“Yes, morals.”
"You know I want to fuck you," he mumbles sulkily. Shuffling around, San sits up straight and looks at you with a saddened expression, his eyes trying to focus on you as he continues to talk you over: “But if you’re also drunk, you would?”
“Don’t even start."
“Which means you would?”
“San.”
“Come on, I’m being— I’m really being serious this time!”
You chuckle and brush his messy hair to the back, approaching his face to a dangerous distance, San’s lips opened by a slit, heavy breathing leaving his mouth while he watches you, his lip corners slightly turned upwards. He’s panting, his penis must be fighting for its life right now, and you’re just petting his head.
“At least watch me do it, then."
“Watch you masturbate?”
“Yep!”, San nods and unbuckles his belt without hesitation. “I bet you’d enjoy that! You would enjoy it, wouldn't you?”
“Maybe. Only if you don’t hold back your moans.”
“Consider it done, baby!”
You let out a laugh and search for a better position for seating to apparently enjoy the view. The drunk man takes a while to get rid of his pants, his legs getting tangled up and all, but once he kneels there, in his underwear, it’s showtime.
Or at least something like showtime. He’s being way too interactive with it for you to just sit back and relax. Whining your name in a needy pitch, he starts to pump his hardened cock inside the boxers, leaving whatever is happening there up to your imagination like a suggestive soft-porn video. However, you’ve seen his penis enough to know what it looks like, so this task is not too difficult for you. You can draw a picture of his cock down to each vein in your mind and you catch yourself drooling a bit, when you see his glistening tip peak from his waistband. You have to keep yourself together.
While letting out low groans, rubbing the head of his erection and creating slick sounds, San searches for your vicinity: “You like what you’re seeing there~?”
“What are you, a camboy?”, you tease and inhale sharply, when San grabs the seam of his T-shirt and bites down on it, revealing all of his abdomen, whining through his teeth. He’s definitely seen the same things as you online and his abs look phenomenal. Those things aren’t necessarily connected, but it’s the two thoughts shooting through your head as he begins to move his lower body to pump himself through his hand, chasing his own high.
“I don’t know!”, he lies, “I just like pleasing you!”
San purrs, his pelvis moving in round circles to accentuate his V-line and muscles flexing and un-flexing as he does so— leaving you quite speechless.
“Ah, really?”, you pant, him answering a very well-behaved “yeah, really~” right after.
“What do you want me to call you when I cum? Mommy?”
“Oh my god, is alcohol bringing out the submissive side out of you?”, you try to defuse the tension (mostly to hold yourself back from going savage towards this man as you always do) and chortle.
“Hmm, I don’t know about submissive~,” San answers, the saliva from his mouth soaking his black shirt, “but I should get naked first, no?”
“Yeah, definitely.” Taken aback by how you're anticipating seeing San jack himself off, you turn a bit too honest too quick like an avid viewer.
He grins and pulls the remaining clothing over his head with both hands, and his tip is still squeezed between his pelvis and waistband. By now, you really want to lick up the precum that’s leaking out, but you try to take your role as the sober audience seriously.
“You know, at the party, there was a girl,” San narrates, throwing his shirt to the side and looking down at his naked torso, “she told me I had nice pecs, so I said thank you, as one should.”
As an attempt to not interfere his performance, you wordlessly follow San’s hand trailing down his chest area down to his pelvis.
“But then someone told me she was flirting,” he continues, theatrically gasping to re-enact the surprise he felt after his friend had lectured him, “oh my god! I didn’t know! So naturally, I made out with her.” Which explains the red-stained lips, okay. Where is this talk going?
“But, the funny thing is,” San laughs, continuously brushing over his skin to give himself goosebumps, finally taking off his boxer-shorts up to his knees, his fully-erect, hardened cock jumping out and slapping against his abdomen as he plays with it, “she was so distracted by them, we didn’t even have sex. Like, she was massaging them and nothing else!”
You gulp at the sight of San lick over his finger and spread the spit on his lip with an opened mouth, making him look very erotic and naughty. His masturbating doesn’t seem to be speeding up any time soon though, San’s little tale isn’t over yet.
“I mean, it didn’t get me frustrated,” San admits, “but it did make me realise that some people can be in it for different reasons~!” That’s where he’s going with it, huh?
Okay, maybe you aren’t being very truthful to yourself, if you think that you've succeeded in hiding your feelings from San.
Let it be the one instance when you told him you were currently only hooking up with him and nobody else, or the other, when you woke up earlier than him and Seonghwa was the one to make you breakfast, San hearing his roommate joke that he should “join you sometime” and you dismissed it by saying you prefer it “private” — San has been presented the picture numerous times now, the picture being you wanting more than this, more than playing around with each other.
Which makes it all worse.
“… And she was in it for my boobs!”, San giggles and you notice you haven’t been listening for some while, staring at his hand installed around his dick, pre-cum dripping onto your living room-floor.
“San, less talking, more making yourself come.”
“Heyy, where'd that come from?”, San wheezes and leans against the couch, propping himself up with one elbow, “I haven’t asked you yet, what you are in it for, my lo—“
“Stop, fucking hell, I wanted to see you cum! Do it, San. I thought you were going to give me a show, not tell me a bedtime-story.”
“Geez, I just wanted to ask you about your kinks~!” Of course.
Grinning, San pumps himself quicker, hissing and whimpering, enjoying having all your attention on him. And even though there's nothing you'd love to do more than sucking him off, you’re still keep your hands to yourself, massaging your own tits as somewhat an homage to his dubious anecdote, but also compensate the vibrating between your legs. You’ve gotten unbearably aroused.
“Shit, keep touching yourself like that,” San responds and hopefully he’s forgotten what he was asking for. Filled with a sudden rush, he sings: “Do you want to masturbate too? With me? Do that, it'll be so hot. I will watch you too! Please, touch yourself with me.”
Too irritated and horny to do anything else about it, you let your hand slide into your pyjamas, and you meet your wet pussy immediately. You drive your fingers over the slickness, silently exhaling.
“That’s so hot,” San admires you and his vocabulary seems to have minimized due to his drunkness. He intensifies his masturbation, the grip around himself becoming tighter, and as he begins to thrust his pelvis through the hole he’s created on his own with his balled fist, San hisses erotically. Still not in control of his body, his arm holding him up folds unintentionally. San trips, and you twitch out of worry which you quickly realise you shouldn’t have. It's just a short moment, dismissable at best and to he honest, San is the one who’s naked, but in this moment, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been. Fuck.
He doesn’t say anything, thankfully so, but as San moans and laughs simultaneously, almost with a mocking undertone, you don’t know whether the feeling inside your guts is your lust multiplying or your heart dropping. To get rid of bitter thoughts, you hope it’s the first and insert your fingers into yourself, trying to match the pace of San’s movement.
“You sure— that— you don’t need my help?”, San asks with not-so innocent intent, and his voice is strained from letting all the moans out as you told him to. “I really want to eat you out right now, there wasn’t anything to eat at the party… No food and too many cocktails~ Too many— oh, fuck…”
Becoming faster with his hands, it appears San is slowly approaching his orgasm, murmuring drunken words while you just started having fun with your own masturbation.
“Hold it,” you groan, trying to quicken up your pace.
“But,” San whines, working his ass front to back as he’s edged himself, “I even asked you, I— I can make you cum! I can make you cum without penetrating you, so please— just— let me cum! Didn’t you say you wanted to see me do that?”
“Changed my mind,” you say, scoffing at the whimpering man, sweat forming on his chest and dripping down his skin. “Now be a good boy and don’t cum until I say so.”
San is definitely exploring his submissive sides here, his brain almost doing a complete revamp when he hears himself be called "a good boy", a pant leaving his mouth, trying to follow your command. It’s like he’s become even more drunk, bathing in your praise when you hum: “Ohh, yes..”
Eyebrows pushed together, his dazy eyes disappear somewhere into the breaths of arousal in the thick air that’s been created between you two. San is crushed in between the pressure to perform well and his pure desire, the devilish voice inside his head whispering words of profanities to him. The blush accompanying the florid stains on his lip— San looks absolutely, endearingly fuckable.
“Oh my god," you gasp, hoarsely laughing at him, but mostly out of amazement, "you should see yourself right now."
"What? Do I look that good?", he snaps back, thrusting as fast as he tries to keep up with you, almost competing with the pace you're pleasuring yourself. Short of breath, San wheezes: "You sound so wet, and I bet that was all me, wasn't it? Because I look so good? I'm your type, aren't I? Nobody gets you like I do?"
"San—!”
Using your thumb to circle around your clitoris, you fall victim to San's provocative teasing that you’re not comprehending at all. All it takes is his sly, foxy side grin for you to understand that San is asking questions he knows the answers to, knows them a bit too well maybe, but he will not back down.
"Say it! You wouldn't have opened the door if I was someone else, would you?", he asks and you don't notice that he's leaning forward to you the more you fall back so you can reach your g-spot better. “Tell me, tell me what’s on your mind, you stopped doing that! Praise me more, aren’t I your hard-working camboy?”
"Don't act like you'd care!", it sizzles out of your mouth, a light-hearted chuckle following your answer as your finger slides over the spot that gets you moan the loudest, sparks of pleasure forming and exploding in your pants.
"Why? Am I not allowed to care now?"
San is special, but so are you, and for the faint of your own feelings you won't allow this man to destroy your will just yet. You're already struggling to drive yourself to an orgasm all by yourself when San could do it so much better, but you can't afford a drunken confession (even if you're not even the one who's drunk) even for the sake of it.
"As if you could care," you joke with a wheeze and you catch yourself stopping to care about it. There is no inherent shame in liking San, but if there was, you aren't going to be embarrassed within the safe walls of your own home. You need the orgasm first.
"Well, yeah, I don't, but I'd still like to hear it out of your pretty mouth," San gutters huskily with the same grin, approaching you even more so you can see his abs tense up— thighs almost shaking from the withheld orgasm— up-front. “Take your clothes off.”
There's that again, this shift of power that San loves to abuse. Like a fucking metronome switching from one side to another, San changes up, which makes it impossible to get into his head. He's too smart to be sabotaged into submission, he must do it by himself. He's a wild animal that way, preying on you with hungry eyes, waiting for the moment you're too distracted to fight back. "Distracted" meaning wanting his cock in your cunt, that is.
Hurrying the hell up, you hastily pull off your pants and panties over your legs, revealing your pulsating, throbbing pussy that has been rubbed to a numbingly sensitive state.
"Yeah, I knew it, you're so fucking wet, shit, you’re leaking," San sighs in awe, gulping at the sight of your labia be moved around by your fingers, still wanking. "You should know that I’m so mad that I can’t bury my face between your thighs— you're so, fuck, you're so gorgeous, you should be the one who's the camgirl, shit.”
By now, your and his face are mere centimetres from each other, and there’s this heat that drives both of you, his lewd words melting against your skin.
"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," you sneer, flattered by his empty-minded eulogy, "I'm not going to let you fuck me even if you're being nice."
"Can you even make yourself cum with your own fingers?", San hisses pettily, watching them go in and out of you, daring you to go deeper, "I bet it doesn't feel like I do!”
"It doesn't, thank you very much," you quarrel and throw your head back for a moment to moan, accepting his challenge of resisting his soliciting. He’s piercing through you with lusty eyes— glassy from the orgasm he's been fleeing from since the beginning of your dispute, almost crying from being restrained that much.
"Are you close?", he whines, getting a bit impatient. "Please be close."
What? Do you think I'll let you cum?
"I'm so close," you whine back, speedening your fingers inside you, trying to thunder them as forcefully as possible to simulate the thickness and vigour of San.
“Good, that’s so very good.”
Sighs and pants leave through San’s opened lips and he looks for greed inside your irises, as you watch his shaft shimmer under the night-lights, imagining it pulsing through you, all of its girth stretching you out in a way you can’t achieve with your fingers from this angle.
“San,” you whimper, feeling your climax approaching quickly.
“Hmnh?”, the addressed man reacts, and his voice is shivering, waiting for you to say the magic words.
“San,” you moan again.
Tell me that you want me. How bad you want me. That you want to be mine, that you want me to be yours. That you’re thinking of nobody else, that you’ll only think of—
“I’m here, baby,” San answers and swings one hand around your neck, closing the small distance by pulling you closer to him; your lips clash together and his tongue eagerly slicks against yours, him heavily breathing inside your mouth. His saliva tastes of a life on the other side of the globe and as he thrusts into his grip with an unbelievable velocity, orgasming with strings of cum landing on your pyjamas, you feel otherworldly.
But San won’t stop milking himself until you have come to exhaustion as well: When he sees you push your lower body up, San throws his unoccupied hand under yours to take over your onanism, burying his digits inside you immediately. Surprised by his sudden gesture, you back your head away from the kiss, your body spasming together because of the overwhelming pleasure.
“You know you need me, don’tcha?”, San beams.
This is wrong, this is all wrong, this is not how you planned this, you cry, but by itself, your hand rubs over your clitoris repeatedly and because San has become a master in knowing where, when and how to finger you, it is impossible to not cum with him and become a moaning mess under his touch. It’s whirring, it’s sparking, San is trying to send you over the edge of the world and you’ll risk everything for it.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you whimper, feeling like you’re being intoxicated with the poisonous sucking at your neck and the stirring in your pussy; your body is being stimulated at so many points that it can’t catch up anymore. Not missing one beat, you scream out your orgasm, falling into the embrace of the muscular man who is barely any safety, his fingers not leaving your pussy.
“Be happy I’m not gonna shoot my second load into you, because your tiny pussy would feel so fucking perfect around my big cock right now and I could stretch it out so fucking nicely,” San growls intimidatingly, and you notice that his dick has become hard again right after his first orgasm, his stamina continuing to be one ridiculous weapon.
You moan, and apparently you’re not able to say anything except this, swinging your arms around his shoulders to not fall deeper into his fingers that are stirring your insides, “San!”
“What?”, he sneers and bites into your ear, “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”
“San, I—,” you start begging and reinforce the clasp to somehow make him slow down, tugging at his hair.
“Hmm? Yes? What are you? Coming? Being stupid for me again? Say it, say it for me, baby.”
“I, o- oh, stop, fuuck—!”, you whimper with the way he’s quaking you through and through, but your request gets lost in the sounds of your squirt meeting the floor. You see a lightning bolt strike in front of your eyes, your consciousness sent into the wide space of otherworldly dimensions: all you can hear his San’s stunned gasping once he realises what he’s achieved and him ejaculating the second time because of it, right on the spots he didn’t get the first time round.
“Holy fuck, mom~my,” he coos, finally letting you free, his own tension being relieved as well. San lets himself relax against the couch, taking you right with him on his bare, sweaty chest, your arms rested on his shoulders. “Didn’t know you could do that.”
You’re too busy catching your breath, the once-gone fatigue coming right back, hitting you like a wall. There’s nothing else on your mind rather than to cuddle into San’s arms and get some well-deserved sleep.
“Do you think you could do that on my dick?”, San asks and you can’t bear to answer. You’re lucky that his penis has gone limp, because you know that this man could continue for hours if he wanted to. “I think that just kicked all the booze out of me,” he pants and you know he’s lying by the way he’s continuing to lull. “I’ve made many girls squirt, but that was really something else. Maybe it’s because I never came with them. And I wasn’t even touching myself, can you believe that? You made me cum untouched, fuck…”
San has forgotten your first time.
And yeah, you want to blame it on the alcohol, you don’t know if he’s just mixing things up, whether his memories are hazy because of the months that have passed since the incident— but it’s the only way his surprised face makes sense. Of course people can forget and get confused, it’s just sex and fun after all, but it still feels… disappointing. Like the first time you found out he wasn’t all that “yours” after all, it’s not like he’s breaking any promise, rather than being a moment of “oh, but I thought— well, never-mind”.
“Hey, you can’t sleep now,” San reminds you, “you got my cum on your shirt.”
“I don’t care,” you mumble and rest your temple at his collarbone, stealing a glimpse of what appears to be San being on his phone that has been stashed inside his pants.
“You sure? ‘Cause I’m gonna go,” San smiles.
“Go?”
“Not home! Did I scare you? You clutched me like there’s no tomorrow.”
You bite into his flesh to get him to shut up and he scrunches his nose.
“You make a very comfortable bed…”
“Yeah?” San puts away his phone and installs his arms around your waist, grabbing your ass in the process. “I’m glad.”
Ignoring that your naked privates are touching, you sigh into his skin. Because the taste has already entered your system, he doesn’t smell like alcohol anymore, he smells sugary sweet, the mild scent of his body leading you to further sleep. “Mhm, it’s the best,” you purr thoughtlessly, feeling safe in his hug.
“You’re only nice to me at times like this~,” San remarks with a pout and stands up with ease, carrying you to your bathroom. “You’re always so... gutsy when we have sex. Are you that dominant?”, he rambles silently, putting you down inside the space of the shower. While he talks, he does a little shimmy to instruct you to get your arms up. “You know I don’t mind, but I’m not lying when I ask you to call me stuff. Like nice stuff. Sexy nice stuff. Gets me on~”
“How are you still drunk?”, you ask, too exhausted to take your top off by yourself, letting San pull it off with his hands.
“Why?”, he asks sassily, throwing your shirt inside the clothing bin, quickly rushing to the living room and back to get his own clothing back, explaining: “It’s just something I noticed! Other girls don’t do it like you can! Like, calling me camboy was something, but then you were so mean with it—“
Returning back to the bathroom, he crosses his arms and leans against the shower door.
“If that’s too mean, you must really not like degradation,” you chuckle, sitting naked in front of him. “And you do dirty talk and call me whore.”
“You know that’s different!”, San argues, taking off his socks and grabbing the shower hose behind you. “I at least keep a balance with pet-names, don’t I, darling~?”
“Quite convincing,” you remark, barely perceiving the whole scene.
“Wait, can you—“
“Here you go.”
You stand up and walk back a step so San can have the same amount space inside the shower. You actually have never showered together before, so this one is a first, but who knows whether San is aware of this or not.
You don’t want to be too grim about it.
San turns on the water only to realise that it’s not going to get warm. “This is bad~!”, he pouts. “It’s too cold…”
“Maybe you’ll sober up with the shock?”
Getting some water in his hand, you fear he’s gonna splash it to you, but San only applies it to his arm which doesn’t even need the water by how sweaty it is.
“I dunno if I’ll get it on my hair, I just don’t wanna leave the alcohol stink over your bed~!”
… Sweet, angel boy. Don’t you be so nice to me. You’ll mistake it for something else, if he doesn’t stop.
“Hey, you good over there?”
“You,” you stammer, “you still have lipstick stains on your face.”
“What’s that mean, “still”? Did I come here with lipstick on my face?”
Okay, so maybe he hasn’t tried to get rid of them at all before he came in. Ouch? — Ugh, who cares, let’s get you to bed first. Over-thinking is for tomorrow, you’re fucked out of your mind and San will be tomorrow too, if the alcohol stays this long in his body.
A sigh which turns into a scoff leaves your mouth. “Yes, yes, you did.”
“Do you think it’ll leave a stain?”
“It should go away.”
“Help me~”
San lowers himself a little bit so you have better access to his flushed face and turns the pressure low so you can wet your hands with a little bit of water, before you carefully brush them over his lips which feel hot in the cold liquid.
“Thank you,” he whispers and you stare onto his soft lips as you answer, “no need to.”
“No, I should, like a nice ladies’ man is to do, right?”
San throws an award-winning, a bit loose-eyed smile at you and uncontrollably, you smile back at his dimples. It’s a heart-warming moment, though you fear the warmth is not going to last long. These lips aren’t yours, he’s proving to you that they’re not yours— shit, fuck, damn it— you will probably not get over this for the rest of the night, if you don’t change the topic soon.
“Yeah. You.. ladies’ man.”
“You said that!”
“I did?”
“Well, actually, I don’t know, I think it was “people-pleaser” or something, actually, but I like.. Well, I actually like both!”
“You like being called a ladies’ man and people-pleaser?”
Rubbing his lower lip with your thumb, you question San’s understanding of the words he apparently enjoys to be described as. What a San-thing to do, you smirk to yourself.
“Seonghwa agrees!”
“With what, that they’re good words?”
“No, he said that they describe me pretty well.”
“Ah.”
“Do you agree?”
You inhale sharply and bite your lip, meeting his sunken eyes, a bit droopy from the exhaustion finally hitting your black-haired apprentice as well.
“I,” you start to say, “I don’t know. When I said that, … I meant something else, I think.”
“You think so?”
You know so.
“Because it’s, hm, I don’t know. Nice, isn’t it? The thought of being wanted by two groups? The ladies~ The people~ I’m their man, I’m their pleaser, you know?”
“Yeah, you please ‘em very well. There you go. Praise. Are you happy?”
San nods enthusiastically and hugs you, forgetting that he has ice-cold water running inside his hand, getting your whole back stunned.
“SAN!”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so—!” His eyes are big, but he’s laughing, he’s laughing very loudly, getting the shower off and hugging you again, leaving balmy kisses all over your face. “Sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, I’m unforgivable!”
Except maybe he is.
When San tugs you in, waiting until you don’t answer his late-night questions of “who invented the camera” and “who was the first live-streamer” to tell himself goodnight and fall asleep immediately, you feel at ease: Disregarding that it took alcohol, will again take alcohol to have moments like these, there’s hope that there is still a little bit of Sannie that you can salvage.
He may not be yours yet, and for what he ensues it will take a damned long time for him to be, but San is here, laying in bed with you, one hand extended out, perfectly formed for your hand to fit in it and oh, how fit in it does.
part three: “the red he leaves is different [i wish it was]”
#ateez smut#ateez x reader#choi san x reader#choi san scenarios#choi san smut#choi san x you#choi san x y/n#haveyourwaywithwordsbemypeoplepleaser#chokkiwa
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Enemies to Lovers - Joe Burrow
Angst -> to fluff
Joe couldn’t put into words precisely why he felt the need to say something every time she entered the room. The new physical therapy assistant was the sweetest person - at least according to several guys on the team who joked with her and would talk endlessly during their sessions.
Joe? Well, he shot himself in the foot the first day they met when she had bumped into him coming out of the exam room he was walking past. He was having a bad day, his calf was still sore and acting up, and on top of that, he had just had a heated conversation with his parents over his ex-girlfriend.
He remembered snapping at the new girl, “Can you watch where the fuck you’re walking?”
He hadn’t stuck around to hear her response, but after that, she went out of her way to avoid him or just outright ignore his presence unless absolutely required to talk with him. If she did have to, it was short, monotone sentences with a blank expression.
It pissed Joe off to no end. What pissed him off worse though was that HE caused this odd tension between them with his outburst that day. He had attempted to track her down a few times afterward to apologize but each time he had approached she’d take off the other way.
Now, every time he saw her, he felt his face twist into a scowl and frustration take over. It pissed him off and he wasn’t sure why his face flushed and his heart rate sped up at the sight of her. He knew his attitude made her uncomfortable but he couldn’t figure out why he was feeling the way he was.
It was Sam of all people who brought it up one day during a post-workout. “I just think it’s odd how mad you get when you see her. I mean, what is the problem?”
“I don’t know..” Joe muttered as he took a swig of his water. “She just always acts like she’d rather be somewhere else than near me. It’s like I’m dirt beneath her shoes.”
“I think she probably looks at it in reverse,” Sam said after a moment.
Joe looked at him questioningly.
Sam raised his brows at him before smirking. “It was you after all who said you yelled at her the first day you met her. And I’ve seen how you act towards her when she’s in the same room as you. The girl thinks you hate her guts. It’s likely why she’s always trying to get away from you. You’ve been a dickhead to her, Joe.” Sam said, straight to the point.
Joe mulled over what Sam said after he bit down the immediate urge to debunk his words. He couldn’t deny it - it was true. He had been awful to her and he needed to make it right. In the few interactions they had, either direct or indirect, he had been the unpleasant asshole. This all stemmed from a misunderstanding on his part. Now she thought he hated her.
He knew he didn’t hate her. How could he? He barely knew her. Yet, his ire with her made no sense to him.
“Yeah.. you’re right.” He finally admitted. He looked over to an amused Sam, “What should I do to make this right?”
“Well,” Sam scratched his chin as he thought, “You could corner her and apologize. Explain that you’re not normally like that, but still, it was no excuse for being a dickhead to her. Don’t ask for forgiveness because that’s corny - she’ll decide when she forgives and it’s ok.” Sam went silent again before grinning suddenly to himself, “And stop glaring at every man who approaches her and talks with her. You’re way too obvious, dude.”
“What do you mean by ‘obvious’?” Joe demanded.
“You like her,” Sam answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You act all pissy when a guy talks to her, then you follow her around the room with your eyes, and I’m pretty sure you are one step away from marking her like a damn dog marks his spot. It is so obvious that you have a crush on her.”
“That’s - that’s… not true,” Joe sputtered out.
“It is,” Sam said.
The two sat quietly once more, one of them completely lost in thought over his feelings, and the other one amused that his good friend was so intelligent but couldn’t read the situation at hand to save his life.
“Fuck,” Joe groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I do.”
“What?” Sam goaded.
“I do like her. Fucking hell, man. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She thinks I’m an absolute asshole now though,” Joe mumbled with his face still in his hands.
Sam thankfully had some information to make his day, “I have an appointment with her at 2 pm. I’m going to show up late. You can go in and talk to her. She doesn’t have any clients from 1-2 pm and will likely be on desk duty for the head PT. Go get cleaned up and you’ll have time to catch her.” Sam nudged his shoulder roughly with his hand.
Joe didn’t think twice, nor did he need any convincing as he got off the weight bench he sat at and took off to the shower rooms.
He didn’t want to waste this opportunity.
—------------
Joe breathed deeply as he stood outside the room she was working in. 205. He had double-checked twice to make sure it was the one Sam said she’d be working in.
He lifted his hand and knocked firmly.
A few moments passed and he heard footsteps approach from the other side of the door. The door opened and she appeared on the other side with a startled look on her face once she registered who was knocking.
She stared quietly for a moment and then cleared her voice, “umm… hi, Joe - er Mr. Burrow. How can I help you?”
Joe felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of her voice before responding, “Joe’s fine… um... do you have a few minutes? I was hoping we could talk really quick.” He smiled nervously.
She stared once more, visibly put off by the friendliness he was exuding. She glanced down the hallway and back, looking for some sign that he was playing a prank before coming to the conclusion that he was serious. “Uh - sure. Come on in.” She opened the door and moved out of the way so his large frame could pass through.
Joe shuffled awkwardly for a minute before taking a seat in front of the small desk in the corner of the room.
She came around to the other side where her laptop was facing and quietly shut it as she sat down.
It was awkwardly silent.
Joe cleared his voice and spoke up, “Listen... Rachel, I’m sorry for how much of an asshole I have been. Not just the first day we met, but also every time after that. I was going through a rough time when we collided that day but that was no excuse for how I spoke to you. I hope we can work together and that you’ll consider giving me a chance.” He smiled nervously.
Rachel nodded at him and remained quiet for a moment. “I appreciate the apology, Joe. I won’t lie - I’ve been really put off and uncomfortable with how you treated me. I don’t understand why you continued to be so unwelcoming to me after one instance in time.” She looked at him curiously.
Joe nodded with a serious expression on his face as he listened. “I was mostly mad at myself for feeling like I made things bad between us - and I did. It snowballed and I just kept feeling more frustrated - not at you but with myself and how I messed up that day. The truth is,” his cheeks flushed red, “I was jealous of how naturally you got along with others on the team but I somehow messed up any friendship we could have had from the get go. It was never you. It was all me and being in my head. I’m very sorry, Rachel, for making you feel unwelcome. It is not an excuse -”
“Just an explanation?” She finished for him.
He nodded.
They were quiet once more before she spoke once more. “Well, since we’ll be working together a lot,” She stuck her hand out to him, “My name is Rachel and I am one of the physical therapist assistants. It’s nice to be working with you, Joe.”
Joe grinned and shook her hand, “It’s nice to be working with you too, Rachel.” It took him a minute to realize he held her hand a little long before he quickly let go, his cheeks still flushed from earlier. “Sam said he was going to be late in getting here today - he needed to talk to the DC really quick. Did you want to get coffee together afterward at the cantina?” He asked nervously.
Rachel smiled and nodded, her own cheeks now flushed, “Sure. I would love to. It won’t be until 3 pm though.”
Joe nodded, “That’s fine. I need to go talk to Zac anyways. I’ll swing back around then.” He got up and stretched before heading for the door.
Joe paused and turned back to Rachel, a small smile on his face, “Thanks, Rachel… for giving me a chance.”
Rachel returned the smile, “Of course. We all have our days. Just don’t make a habit of it, Burrow.” She warned playfully.
He nodded and chuckled, “Right, right.” He looked back at her once more and said, “see you later.” And shut the door behind him.
He paused and released a heavy sigh of relief before fisting pumping and turning down the hallway only to encounter a grinning Sam.
“Went good, Shiesty? You look pretty stoked.”
Joe nodded a smile once more on his face, “She agreed to have coffee with me at 3 pm. So, don’t keep her waiting too long and holding it up, Hubbard.” He smacked his larger friend on the shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah. For that, you’ll have to wait for 3:30 pm.” Sam winced and pretended to limp towards the door.
“Dude,” Joe called, “Don’t you dare!”
Sam turned and winked at him, “She’ll be done by 3 pm, lover boy,” before knocking and walking on into the room.
Joe stood there in the hallway alone for a moment, staring at the door. He couldn’t wait to go back there at 3 pm.
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betty | quinn hughes
summary: you break up with your boyfriend following a fight, but you contemplate giving him a second chance.
request: yes / no
warnings: (kind of?) cheating, angst, bad boyfriend behaviour
a/n: based on ‘betty’ by taylor swift. i was doing way too much world-building for a blurb lol.
word count: 1.9k
The lake was my happy place. 100%.
I have been coming here every summer since I was born with my family. My cousins and I would spend all day in the water or going into town and going to the movies. In the winter, I would yearn for the lake and all that comes with it. Another amazing thing that came with the summer and the lake was Quinn.
I met Quinn one day when he and his brothers stumbled upon me and my cousins by the tire swing at Sellers Point. We became fast friends, all of us being around the same age. We hung out every day that summer and every summer after. They were my best friends, the Hughes brothers. But Quinn…there was something different about Quinn. He was someone you could never get enough of. Every little thing he did had me entranced.
I thought about him all winter and looked forward to him every summer.
Every summer, from the one we met when we were 14 to now, our families have poked at the idea that Quinn and I are destined to be together. That we are two sides of the same coin. Quinn and I would always say that we didn’t see each other like that, but I knew that wasn’t true.
I would sneak glances at him whenever possible, I would get butterflies whenever he would laugh at my jokes, and cared a little too much about what he thought of me. I always wondered if Quinn was also lying when he said he didn’t see me like that.
When the Canucks missed the playoffs this year, that allowed Quinn to come to the lake slightly earlier than his brothers. This left Quinn and me alone at the lake, spending a lot of time together. Somewhere along the way, I got bold enough and admitted my feelings for him. To my surprise, he shared them.
We spent the whole summer together, experiencing first dates and first kisses. Even though we were having firsts of all kinds, it felt like Quinn and I had been dating for years. We were so comfortable with one another and wanted to spend as much time together as possible, even if that meant hanging out in each other's room while you did chores.
Quinn was wrapped in my blue patchwork quilt on my bed, while I put clothes away into my armoire. When I put my last sweatshirt away, I turned back to Quinn who was looking back at me, a slightly sad look on his face. I climb on my bed and crawl to him.
“What’s with the frown?” I ask him softly as he lifts the quilt for me to crawl under.
“I’m just thinking.” He says.
“Bout what?”
“Just… the end of the summer.” He says quickly. “But I don’t want to think about it.”
I furrow my brows. “What do you mean, Quinn?”
“I mean, I’m going back to Vancouver, you’re going back to work in Detroit. I don’t want us to end.”
I sit up out of his embrace and look at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, we’re gonna be living in two different countries, y/n, I don’t see how we can even work.” He explains.
“So you’re just fine with us ending? Just like that? Without even trying?” I ask.
Quinn sits up, placing his hands on my waist. “Babe, c’mon.”
“No.” I shake my head climbing out of my bed. “I don’t understand. At the end of the summer, you’re just going to say bye and that’s it? You’re not even going to try and make us work?”
He sighs, putting his head in his hands. “I didn’t want to think about it but… let’s be real here. I’m in a new city almost every week, you’re going to start working full time. You can’t tell me you didn’t think about this when we started dating.”
I scoff. “No Quinn, I didn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t think about how we would break up because you can’t do long distance.”
“Y/n-”
“No. You knew you were going to break up with me, so what the fuck was this all for? This whole summer? If you knew we were going to end why did you even bother? This was just for shits and giggles for you?”
Quinn climbs out of my bed, still wearing his board shorts as we were on the boat earlier today. He stops in front of me, examining my face. He opens his mouth to speak but I do before he can.
“No, just go. I don’t want to look at you anymore.” I wave him away, opening my bedroom door, indicating he should leave.
“Y/n, come on. Let’s talk.” He objects.
“No! This is what you wanted all along, right?” I look into his eyes. They show nothing but remorse but I can’t find it in me to let him stay right now.
He looks as though he wants to say something but doesn’t. He gives me a soft kiss on the forehead before walking out of my bedroom. I hear him say a quick goodbye to my parents, who offer for him to stay for dinner, but he politely declines. When I hear the front door shut, I retire to my bed, wrapping myself in my quilt. Quinn’s scent is still lingering on the blanket. The tears begin to fall and don’t stop until I fall asleep.
The rest of the week is filled with rare days inside, not finding the energy to go outdoors. All I want to do is lie in bed and distract myself with reality shows. My parents take notice and let me sulk for a few days before deciding they’d had enough and forced me to go to the pier with my cousin.
Inez and I spent some time perusing the shops before we sit down at the Honey Duke diner for lunch.
“How are you?” She asks me when we’ve sat down and ordered our food.
I let out a dry laugh. “Not great.”
She sighs and eyes me. “Listen, I know this is something you probably don’t want to hear but I think this is something you should know.”
I roll my eyes. The one thing my cousin is known for is gossiping. I normally don’t take much of what she says seriously because often times what she tells me is just a rumour.
“So yesterday I was hanging out with Michael, and Michael was telling me that a few days ago Quinn was out for a run when Augustine, y’know the girl that just moved into the Russell’s old place? Well she pulled up next to him as he was on his way home and was like ‘Quinn, get in, let’s go for a drive’ and he did. And one thing led to another and apparently they slept together.”
I didn’t want to believe what she was saying but the story made my face heat up and a nervous, nauseous feeling arises in my stomach. “Why should I believe what Michael told you?” I challenge her.
“Because it happened just outside of his house! He saw him get in her car.” Inez says. “And he ran into her the next day at the grocery store and she told him they had sex.”
My stomach churns as I picture my boyfriend in bed with another girl. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. We’re broken up, he is free to do whatever he wants.” I say, putting on a front.
“Girl, you’re allowed to be hurt.” Inez says, grabbing my hand that was resting on the table to comfort me. “What he did was super shitty. You just need to try and forget about him.”
I smile and nod at her. However misguided she may be when it comes to spreading rumours, she truly wants nothing but the best for the people closest to her in life.
“Listen, parents are leaving the lake early this year, how about we throw an end-of-summer party?” Inez suggests.
“That’s going to be a pain in the ass to clean in the morning,” I say.
“But it’ll be fun in the evening.” She smirks.
I reluctantly agree and Inez immediately goes into planning mode. She planned the party for a week later, spreading the word to the others in the area. When the night of the party rolled around, the family lake house was packed with people.
Despite being at a party, and drinking with my close friends, a despondent feeling was hovering over me. The end of the summer was upon us and in a few days I was going back to Detroit. The same feeling I get at the end of every summer rolls right back in, a feeling of sadness sitting passenger seat of my emotions.
I excuse myself from the conversation I was having with my neighbour, slipping out back and down to the garden my mum keeps. A small path is configured through the plants using cobblestone, moss growing through the cracks. I bend down, smelling a bundle of dahlias my mum had planted, inhaling the slightly bitter scent.
“Hey.”
I stand up, whipping my head to the left where Quinn is standing. My despondent feelings about summer ending are replaced by despondent feelings brought on by Quinn.
“Go fuck yourself.” I say, almost coming out automatically.
“I had a feeling you would say that.” He says. “But please hear me out.”
I deliberate with myself whether or not I should hear him out or not. The downcast look on his face, accompanied by a tired demeanour forced me to give in. I sit down on the bench, leaving room for Quinn to sit as well. He sits down but doesn’t speak right away, so I do.
“Inez told me.” I say. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
I don’t even need to be specific. Quinn’s head bows down and I feel my heart break a little bit.
“Please,” He starts, placing a hand on my knee. “Trust me when I say it was just a summer thing. It didn’t mean anything. I was sad and she was there. I thought I had lost you forever cause I’d been an idiot. And then I was an idiot some more. I fucked up I know that.”
His voice is breaking as tears start to fall from my eyes. Every part of me wants to just take him back but I still feel hurt by our argument about long distance.
“And I know I was dumb about dealing with long distance but I was so scared about losing you that I just figured I would end it before long distance.”
I let out a dry laugh at Quinn’s way of dealing with it.
“If you’re willing, I want to try long-distance.” Quinn says.
My eyes snap up to his. Truly all I want is to try long distance but I’m not sure how I can when I’m not confident that this is what Quinn wants. As if he senses my uncertainty, he takes my hands into his.
“Y/n, all I want is to be with you. I’m willing to do whatever, I don’t care, I’ll fly you to Vancouver every weekend, I’ll come see you when we play in Detroit, I’ll-”
I cut off Quinn’s rambling by pressing my lips to his. He melts into me, his calloused hands finding me, one going to the back of my head and the other wrapping around my back. When we break apart I pull Quinn into my arms, just wanting to hold him.
“Please make this work.” I whisper.
“It’s all I want.” He whispers back.
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes imagine#vancouver canucks#nhl imagine#nhl#angst#luvzegras
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Today Millie had a fan panel in which she answered that her ideal ending would be Mike and El getting married and Will being happy and confessing to Mike (lol) and ofc the Stranger Things fandom kicked up the old Byler vs Mlvn war once again, regardless of the fact she doesn’t write the show. But I want to break down some points here about things I’ve been noticing today, but also for a while and that I think need to be discussed. Keep reading if you want.
I’ve seen a lot of hostility towards Byler and Bylers on Twitter lately, saying we’re delusional and don’t know what we’re talking about. This always seems to be the go to argument even tho it’s all in the narrative. Today it got really bad after Millie’s comments and even people that were merely disagreeing with her opinions got called everything from delusional to misogynistic.
IF the Duffers suddenly decided to ignore everything they’ve carefully crafted and put into their narrative that doesn’t make anyone delusional, it just makes them terrible writers. Who would be doing a great disservice to all three characters involved in the love triangle.
There’s been an insurgence (on Twitter) of so called “Will stans” who seem to be completely fine with the idea of mlvn being endgame because “Will can just get another boyfriend” Not only is this insulting to what the writers have already established for Will’s character but it’s also a defense and endorsement of the worst kind of lazy/bad writing that could graze our screens.
The Duffers CHOSE to tie Will’s character arc to Mike’s and El’s.
How do you expect them to undo that and create a well fleshed out character that’s deserving of Will, in 8 episodes that we know are not just gonna be dedicated to Will’s supposed love interest, because there’s a shit ton of stuff to resolve?
If this was the route the Duffers were going for, they could’ve clearly given Will a love interest last season (like with Robin) or two seasons ago (like with Dustin) And yet somehow, people think it would be totally okay for Will to get the most meaningless romance of all time as the writers ignore the same story they’ve created.
Another point I’ve been seeing a lot from these people is “Mike won’t come out. Let it go. He’s just a very unlikable character” What does that say about the quality of the writing and content you’re willing to consume then? You’re okay with characters being poorly written? And please someone explain to me how Mike’s actions, especially in S4, make any sense unless he likes Will.
The more people try to simplify this story the more plot holes and inconsistencies it creates.
The funny thing is that a lot of these “Will stans” used to be Bylers themselves but are so deathly afraid it won’t be endgame that they’ve started to use the same rhetoric mlvns use every day to justify what would be atrocious writing.
And this next thing might be controversial but I think it needs to be said.
So many people on Twitter have hit those who disagree with Millie’s opinion today with “y’all are misinterpreting Millie’s words” and let me tell you, no one has. She’s been saying the same stuff for forever and quite frankly she’s never had a coherent thought about Will. Which is fine, at the end of the day that’s not the character she plays. However, I haven’t forgotten how last year (at another panel) she was asked about Byler and said it was just a reflection of Finn and Noah’s friendship and that was what people were seeing…
Whatever the fuck that means, I guess.
Again, I’m not taking her answer today too seriously cause truth be told she’s been saying some version of this since she was around twelve, and has even at times said she was joking about it. If a wedding were actually happening she wouldn’t be able to say it cause I’d literally be a spoiler, even if she doesn’t have the scripts yet or doesn’t know I’m sure there’s things that would be off limits for any actor to say at this point.
But this defense squad that formed today begging for us to not misconstrue her words because “she really cares about Will’s character” is laughable.
Her answers regarding the topic of the love triangle have been anything but nuanced. If she doesn’t want to get into it or address it, that’s fine. It’s her choice.
But of course, mlvn stans are gonna take her answers seriously, as well as those who are now “Will stans” who basically ship mlvn too.
And to me there’s a fundamental flaw regarding the ship wars in this fandom, which these people don’t seem to grasp. At this point, it isn’t so much about “which ship is better” but “which outcome isn’t violently homophobic”
That’s it.
I don’t care how much you ship mlvn, this is the undisputed truth here.
But when your lead actors act like it’s not a big deal, it’s no surprise the fandom doesn’t give a shit.
I can only hope the Duffers were smart enough to see reason and were able to write the only outcome that won’t set television back around 10 years or so.
And hopefully one day, when S5 is out, we can get a more in depth and honest conversation with the actors about all of this.
As for me, I’m gonna lay low and not give much of a fuck until we start getting those Reddit leaks, which were very much accurate for last season. I’ll take a peak at those, and depending on what they look like, I’ll stay around or dip completely.
If you read all of this, thank you.
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