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fangirl-dot-com · 2 months

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Chapter 23 - The Dutch Anthem on Repeat

Guys, I think I can finally upload on a regular basis if I can do every Friday and Wednesday? If that's ok? I'm hoping that it will work well for everyone!

This chapter made me laugh, and I remember someone asking for more Grandpa Nando so he makes a good appearance in this one!

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Please enjoy!

Max, along with everyone, was used to hearing the Dutch National Anthem. Sure, everyone joked that it was the Formula 1 outro, but that was life. It wasn’t Max’s fault that he kept winning. Everyone just needed a new and better car to keep up. As he walked into the garage, he knew he was expecting to possibly hear it at the very end of Sunday.

What he didn’t expect was when his foot hit the concrete, the song started blasting through the speaker. The mechanics were trying to hid giggles behind their hands as they watched the confused driver try to find where the sound was coming from. When it suddenly stopped, he got even more confused.

He looked at the mechanics.

“Have you seen the kid anywhere?”

Henry, one of the men that worked on your car, responded, “She’s been in her room since she got here this morning.”

Max let out a tight “thanks” before heading that way. He expected you to be hiding something, but you were peacefully taking a nap with your headphones on. The gag gift that he got you, a blanket with his face all over it, was curled up in your hands. His eyes softened as he walked over to gently wake you up. You did promise him lunch for that day.

He rocked you a bit until you woke up.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up. “Hey Max.”

A yawn escaped your lips.

“Kid, you don’t have anything to do with the fact that the Dutch anthem played when I walked in?”

“Huh?” you questioned, still really sleepy.

Max just let it go. You seemed like you didn’t know what was going on. You quickly got ready, placing your race suit at your hips.

When Max’s foot hit the concrete again, the anthem started to play. A groan left his lips as you looked around.

The Dutchman looked down at you. “You had nothing to do with this?”

You looked up at the older driver. “Nico took my boombox privileges away when I scared him last week.”

You seemed pretty dejected at the thought of losing your boombox.

Max just quickly kept walking out of the garage with you on his tail. The two of you conversed as you made your way to hospitality. You knew that Max had the priority for this race. It was his second home and you knew he wanted a win after what happened in Belgium.

“So I’m thinking of holding a party after Monza at the house. What do you thing?”

Max thought for a moment.

“That’s a good idea. You going to take a car to the circuit.”

You beamed at him. “Thinking of bringing the spaceship. What do you think?”

Max opened the door to the hospitality, and before he could answer, the Dutch anthem started to play once again. He stopped dead in his tracks, causing you to thud into his back.

You snorted as you heard the song play, causing Max to whip around.

His eyebrow arched. “Sure you don’t have anything to do with this?”

You only shook your head before pushing past him, wanting to get lunch as quickly as possible. Max followed, suspiciously glaring at anyone who looked guilty.

Lando was sitting in the corner, animatedly telling a story to Oscar, who looked dead inside (but was politely listening).

In the middle, Lewis, Charles, and Carlos were all playing on their phones, empty plates sitting in front of him.

Max’s eyes looked back up to see you talking to Fernando. Your eyes were wide as you talked to the Spaniard. He made his way over to the line and grabbed a tray. With each step he took, he was nervous about setting off something that would start the song. When he walked to the table, he just looked at the chair.

“Everything all right Max?” Lando asked from the corner, making everyone look at the Dutchman. His cheeks reddened under everyone’s gaze.

You bit into your sandwich. “Each time he’s walked into or out of a building, the Dutch national anthem plays.”

“Sure it does,” Charles said, finally looking up from his phone.

Now annoyed, Max sat down. Surprisingly nothing happened. He let out a content hum before biting into his food.

However, the moment he took a bite, it stated to play again. Rounds of laughter fell from everyone’s lips as he sat there, looking sad with a bite of food in his mouth.

Not wanting to sit anymore, he stood up abruptly and walked out with the tray. Yet, the song started over once he opened the door. A loud huff left his lips, which made everyone start laughing again.

What he failed to notice was a camera set up in the corner of the room. You turned and looked at it, giving it a thumbs up.

You wiped a tear from your eye. “Aw man, now he’s going to be mad.” You looked at one of the media personelle who was standing in the corner. He took the camera and just gave you a smile.

“He’ll be mad at us, not at you.”

You crossed your arms, not convinced in the slightest. Fernando gave you an upside down smile.

“Come on niña, I’ll take you to Max.”

He stood from the table, waiting for you to follow. Yet, you shook your head.

“Nando, he’s going to be mad and all grumpy and I’m going to be at the receiving end of it in the car. He’s taken Charles out too many times.”

“Hey!”

Your eyebrows pinched as you looked up at the green-clad driver. Your eyes then looked back down at your food.

Fernando sighed, knowing you weren’t going to budge. He turned around and walked out, without the Dutch national anthem playing. He stalked toward the Red Bull garage and was able to walk in.

Every loved Fernando and had great respect for him.

“Anyone know where I can find Max?”

Christian spoke up from the corner. “He’s in his room. Is everything ok?”

Fernando sighed as he rubbed his head. “For a prank, they got someone to play the Dutch National anthem every time Max did something. He got tired of it, so he stormed out. Now the kid thinks that he’s going to be mad at her all weekend. I’m just here to explain because she’s a bit nervous.”

Christian had a sympathetic look on his face. He was sad that you thought that Max would ever be mad at you for something so trivial.

The Briton nodded his head in the direction of Max’s driver room. “Second door on the left.”

Fernando thanked him, before heading that way. He knocked once before the door swung open, sadly causing the anthem to play once again.

Max deadpanned as he waited for the song to stop.

“Is everything ok Fernando?” the Dutchman asked, trying to look around to see if you were there as well. His heart sank a bit when you weren’t seen.

The elder sighed. “So your team thought it’d be a good video to play the anthem every time you did something.”

Max winced. “Oh I know.”

Fernando looked at him weirdly.

“You don’t think I saw the dude with the camera in the corner of the garage or hospitality?”

The Spaniard nodded. He knew a thing or two for spotting cameras on him. You get used to it after being in the field for so long.

“Well, the kid thinks you were going to be mad if you knew that she was in on it.”

Max’s eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. “Oh no no no. Doesn’t she know when I can tell that she’s not sleeping? She’s taken so many naps around me, that I know when she’s actually asleep.”

Max had known from the beginning, since you never woke up so quickly. It always took a few nudges, not just one. And your headphones were off and you barely flinched when he approached you. He was actually amused that you had gone through all the trouble to seem innocent.

Fernando let out a long sigh. “I told her that you wouldn’t be angry or frustrated.”

Max had a determined look. “Let’s go find her. She’s probably either in the Ferrari garage or McLaren.”

“She’s in the Williams garage.”

Max turned around. “How do you know this?”

“It was supposed to be a joke, but she put me on her Life360. Said I was getting old and was at a higher risk of crashing outside of work.”

Max let out a deep laugh at the imagination of you downloading Life360 onto Fernando’s phone.

The two walked out of the garage (this time the anthem did not play) and toward Williams. The two got to catch up on something before they arrived.

They saw the Thai driver first.

“Alex have you see Y/n anywhere?” Max questioned, catching him off guard.

He said nothing, but subtly tilted his head toward the back where Logan was awkwardly standing behind a box. Max’s eyes lit up at he looked at the American, who had a nervous look on his face.

Max put a finger to his lips and saw Logan barely nod. He gingerly crossed the room and looked down. Behind said box, you were clinging to Logan’s leg, playing a game.

He heard you snicker to yourself. “Max will never find me here.”

“Sure kid.”

He could have sworn he saw your soul leave your body as you jumped off of Logan’s leg. The American rolled his eyes before lifting you off the ground and placing you in front of the Dutch driver.

“I think this belongs to you.”

All in the back, Fernando and Alex stood laughing behind their hands.

You looked back at Logan. “Traitor.”

“Come on kid.”

Max gently led you back to the Red Bull garage, but not without thanking Fernando for his help. The Spaniard only patted his back before returning to his own garage. Max watched as you begrudgingly walking in front of him. He quickened his steps to be right beside you.

“I can hear your grumpiness from over here,” he tried to joke, yet stopped when he saw barely there tears in your lash line.

He cooed as he tried to not let you cry.

“Kid I thought it was funny.”

“Are you sure? You looked super unhappy after lunch.” You looked down and kicked a stone.

“Y/n.”

Oh, he said the name (and not the nickname).

You sheepishly looked up at him.

“I’m not mad. And if I was, I’d take it out on the media team and not you.”

You smiled just a bit. “Promise?”

“Promise. Now, let’s go kick some ass so we can listen to the Dutch National Anthem on the podium.”

Race Results:

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Y/n L/n – 18 points

Charles Leclerc – 16 points (fastest lap)

Lewis Hamilton – 12 points

Oscar Piastri – 11 points

Alex Albon – 8 points

George Russell – 6 points

Logan Sargeant – 4 points

Lance Stroll – 2 points

Lando Norris – 1 point

Fernando Alonso

Niko Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Daniel Ricciardo

Pierre Gasly

Yuki Tsunoda

Esteban Ocon

Valtteri Bottas

Zhou Guanyu

Carlos Sainz – DNF (engine failure)

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 309 points

Charles Leclerc – 268 points

Lando Norris – 190 points

Y/n L/n – 181 points

Carlos Sainz – 130 points

Oscar Piastri – 118 points

Lewis Hamilton – 105 points

Alex Albon – 56 point

George Russell – 54 points

Fernando Alonso – 45 points

Logan Sargeant – 36 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 17 points

Pierre Gasly - 12 points

Valtteri Bottas – 13 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Championship

Red Bull – 490 points

Ferrari – 398 points

McLaren – 308 points

Mercedes – 159 points

Williams – 92 points

Aston Martin – 62 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpha Romeo – 14 points

Alpine – 12 points

Haas – 0 points

The cool wind of the Netherlands brushed up against your face as you stood on the second step. If your math was correct, you were still behind Lando in the championship by only 9 points. You’d make it up as long as you didn’t DNF for the rest of the season.

You smiled as you heard the Dutch National Anthem for the umpteenth time that day. Your shoulders started to shake as it continued playing, which made Charles look at you and start laughing as well. Max watched with a grin on his face as you couldn’t contain yourself.

To the people down below, it looked like you were crying since you were wiping tears away (which you were, but the tears were from laughing too hard). Their hearts ached as you were on the second step once again, and not the top one.

But, you were having the time of your life, spraying Max and Charles with loads of champagne. You were on a high right now, and nothing would stop it. You knew that later that night, you’d stay awake going over data and sim times.

Because that second step was sweet, but the top step would be even sweeter.

And you needed the win.

You were starving.

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing no broken trophies this year - orange army you were good to us

liked by y/n.nation, dutch4max, orangearmynation, and 390,204 others

maxmaxmax_super DUTCH ANTHEM YASSSSS

maxie&kid best 1-2 honestly

lastlap_lando NOT THE BROKEN TROPHIES COMMENT

landonorris how many times do I have to apologize?

y/n.89 give it a few years, he still hasn't forgiven me for accidentally eating his stroopwaffle maxverstappen1 BECAUSE IT WAS THE LAST ONE y/n.89 YOUR NAME WASN'T ON IT

y/n&co when are RB going to give her a win?? for real???

best_rookie ROOKIE WIN ROOKIE WIN ROOKIE WIN

y/n.nation WE NEED A WIN?? ADMIN? AUTHOR?? author CALL DOWN - LET ME COOK

autodromonazionale_monza a presto! Viaggi sicuri!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

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bad268 · 3 months

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Frank Told Us (Colby Brock X Pregnant! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co

Requested: Yes by @eattothebeatt and anon. I hope y'all don't mind that I combined them, they were pretty similar. (Also, since I'm ahead on requests, I'm gonna post Wednesdays and Saturdays until it's cleared <3)

Warnings: slipping in snow (idk).

Pronouns: She/her

W.C. 1263

Summary: The Conjuring House is no joke, especially when a certain ghost (Frank) ruins a surprise.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

The Conjuring House was no joke, that was a fact that Y/n knew well. After going to the Conjuring House on three separate occasions with Sam and Colby and being witness to some crazy things, she didn’t need any convincing of that.

This time was one to top the charts. Ever since Sam and Colby heard about Satori and Cody, they knew that they wanted to meet them and get their expertise on camera. So Y/n decided to go with them. However, one thing happened about a week before the flight that may have changed the trajectory of the trip.

Y/n missed her period.

She took a test and met with her gynecologist, and they both came to the same conclusion. She was pregnant. She was not super far along, a little over a month, but she was not sure if she should go on the trip. After talking it over with her gynecologist, they decided she should be fine as long as she stepped away when it got too much and did not put herself in dangerous situations. She knew that if she had told Colby that they were expecting, he would abort the whole video, and she knew she did not want to be responsible for that

So they arrived at the Conjuring House. Sam and Colby in the front and Kat and Y/n in the back. Satori and Cody said they would meet them there, so they did not worry about getting a bigger car.

“Are you guys ready for this?” Sam asked enthusiastically as he pulled into the driveway.

“Are you ready to get another attachment?” Kat snapped back jokingly, causing Sam’s jaw to drop and the rest of the car to laugh.

“No need to come for my brother like that,” Colby defended, turning back to point a finger at Kat.

“You should definitely put this at the end of the video,” Y/n added, directing everyone’s attention to the camera that was recording.

“Anyway, what’s up guys! It’s Sam and Colby,” Colby started the intro.

“Today, well, this week, we are at the Conjuring House with Kat and Y/n!” Sam continued.

“These guys get 10 million subscribers, and we get dragged into this,” Y/n laughed gesturing to Kat as they climbed out of the car, so Sam and Colby could do their intro in peace. The two walked into the house and greeted Satori and Cody. The four made small talk until Sam and Colby came into the house.

“I see you made yourself comfortable without us,” Colby teased as he sat next to Y/n on the couch and laid his arm over her shoulder. “Do we know how we're going about tonight?”

“I think we’re just letting Satori and Cody do their thing and we’ll go with the flow,” Y/n explained as she leaned into Colby’s side. “What do you guys think? It is your video.”

“I think that’s fine,” Sam said, setting up the cameras. Kat started pulling out different gadgets and placing them around the room.

“We’re ready to start whenever you guys are,” Satori offered, moving to stand up with Cody. Colby stood up as well before he turned back and held his hand out jokingly for Y/n to stand up.

“Well, thank you, kind sir,” Y/n joked in a mock posh accent.

“You’re welcome, governess,” Colby joked back, causing the two to chuckle before turning serious again. “Ok, back to the task at hand-”

Hours later, Satori and Cody were still getting so much in response. It was nearing midnight at this point, and they were still nonstop. After the third hour, Y/n got a huge headache, and it did not prove to be a problem until the knocks started getting louder.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get some fresh air. My head hurts,” Y/n announced as she stood up and walked out the door, not waiting for a response. Kat immediately said she would follow Y/n and trailed behind her as they walked through the snow carefully toward the car.

“Are you okay? You’re really pale,” Kat asked as they leaned against the hood of the rental car.

“I have a huge headache, and honestly, I need to tell someone,” Y/n admitted and let out a sigh before saying, “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re kidding!” Kat exclaimed excitedly, reaching out to hold Y/n’s hands. “You’re serious? Oh my god, I’m so happy for you guys! Does Colby know?”

“If I told him, he wouldn’t have let me come,” Y/n laughed as Kat pulled her into a hug. “I’m so glad I finally told someone. I’ve been keeping that to myself for the last week.”

“You’re kidding!” Kat exclaimed again. She was too excited because when she jumped away from the car, she pulled Y/n with her and they both lost their footing. “Woah!”

“Ouch! Kat!" Y/n laughed as she landed on her back in the snow with Kat leaning over her. They were laughing like maniacs despite knowing that one or both of them could have been seriously injured. “What the hell? You’re crazy, get off me.”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Satori and Cody kept at it with Sam and Colby, teaching them along the way. The first person they connected with asked about Colby, so Satori and Cody took back over.

“Way to go, Colby,” Sam jokingly scolded.

“Shut up, Sam,” Colby joked back.

“You want to talk to Colby?” Satori asked as was met with a knock immediately. “Okay, what is your name?” She went through the alphabet and found the name they were spelling out. “Frank? Yes. Colby, do you know a Frank?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Colby answered, “Who are you to me?” Satori started the alphabet again and the knocks spelled out:

“Grandfather? No, Great-grandfather? Yes,” Satori interpreted. “What message do you have for Colby?” The knocks started back up and what it spelled caused a chill to run down everyone’s spines. “Protect? Protect who?...Y/n. Protect Y/n from what?”

They did not get an answer as they heard shouting from outside, causing Colby to bolt out the door immediately.

“Y/n?” He shouted, not caring that it was midnight. His ears were ringing, and his heart stopped when he saw Y/n laying in the snow. He could not breathe, and he could not register that the girls were laughing and not in danger. He slid down to be down by Y/n’s head as he held her hand. “Holy shit, are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“All good, Colby,” she laughed, pushing Kat off her as she stood up. Y/n inspected the snow around her as she felt around her stomach, “I don’t see any blood and I don’t feel any pain, so I think we’re both good.”

“Yeah, you and Kat look fine to me,” Colby sighed as he took Y/n into his arms.

“No, not Kat, no offense,” Y/n retorted before looking up at Colby as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She whispered, “Me and the baby.”

“Baby? Whose baby? My baby? Our baby?” He asked so quickly Y/n could not keep up with him as he held her at arm’s length before cheering loudly when she nodded her head. He ran back to the house to tell Sam only to find Sam, Satori, and Cody standing at the doorway. “I’m gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah, Frank just told us.”

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

#colby brock x reader #colby brock #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby x you #colby x y/n #colby x reader #colby brock imagine #sam and colby #sam golbach #katrina stuart #pregnant reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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corroded-hellfire · 24 days

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i love as you wish wednesdays! how did the three kids take the news that reader was expecting again? 🥰

It felt very fitting to fill this request this week because reader goes into labor with this pregnancy on April Fool’s Day and Eddie thinks it’s a prank at first (thank you @munson-blurbs for that idea). Yes, I have a whole timeline mapped out for these stories because I’m a nerd. I hope you enjoy the continuing adventures of this crazy gang 😘

Words: 2.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The lock clicks on the front door, swinging inward as Eddie gives it a push from the outside. Gentleman as ever, he gestures for his family to walk into the house before him. Ryan steps in first, you right behind him, then Luke comes over the threshold, Eliza slung over his shoulder, the little girl almost comatose from eating so much of her macaroni and cheese at the restaurant.

Eddie brings up the rear and closes the door behind him. The two of you share a look full of excitement and nerves as your husband kicks off his boots and wipes his hands off on the sides of his dark jeans. It’s rare the Munson house is ever this quiet, all members stuffed from the nice family dinner they just had. Little do the kids know that the evening out was a precursor to some major news.

It’s been a few weeks since you revealed to Eddie that you were pregnant again. The two of you had been caught in a whirlwind of excitement, your husband joking that it didn’t take him long to “get one past the goalie” since the two of you decided to go off all forms of birth control and try for another baby. Ryan, Luke, and Eliza had just started school when you found out though, so both you and Eddie wanted to give them some time to get into the swing of things before you dropped another big change on them.

The few weeks gave you and your husband time to discuss how and when to tell the kids about the new baby. At first, you’d discussed telling the boys and Eliza separately because they’ll understand it differently because of their respective ages. Ultimately, you decided against that because it was important for you both to tell them all together, as the one big family you are. Now the time was here, and you couldn’t help but think the butterflies in your stomach must be fluttering around the baby growing inside of you.

“I’m going to call Hannah,” Ryan says, cheeks pinkening at the mere mention of the girl he likes and went out on a “maybe sort-of” date with last weekend.

“Ah, in a little while,” Eddie says, placing a hand on the middle of his oldest son’s chest, stopping him from heading down the hallway toward his room. He nods his head towards the couch where Luke is flinging a very rag doll looking Eliza down on the middle cushion, nudging Ryan to join his siblings.

Luke takes a seat on one side of Eliza as she struggles to sit up, while Ryan takes the other. The younger brother takes a look at his siblings before looking back to his parents.

“Who’s in trouble?” he asks.

Eddie shakes his head as he pulls the recliner that’s typically tucked away in the corner of the room in front of the couch so the two of you can sit facing your kids. Once he sits, you perch yourself in Eddie’s lap and he immediately wraps his arm around your waist.

“No one is in trouble,” Eddie tells them.

“We just want to talk to you guys,” you add.

“Sounds like trouble,” Eliza mumbles to her brothers, sinking lower in her seat.

An exasperated look is shared between you and your husband, both of your expressions simultaneously turning into giddy smiles in your excitement. The look doesn’t go unnoticed by your sons, who shoot each other questioning glances over their little sister’s curly head.

Now that it was time to break the news, you started to get truly nervous for the first time. What if they didn’t take it well? Sure, the boys had been very excited to find out when you were pregnant with Eliza, but they’ve both grown into teenagers since then and gained the moods that come along with the titles. Eliza might not be thrilled either, used to being the baby of the family, getting the lion’s share of the attention her whole life. Neither you nor Eddie doubted your kids would love their new sibling dearly, but their initial reactions were still a little worrisome.

A soft hand rubs up and down your thigh, as if Eddie can sense your nerves–and possibly shares in them as well. You’d both prepared a time and place to tell them, figured out how to initiate the conversation, but how to come out and say it? Not so much.

Eddie clears his throat and gives your leg a light squeeze, letting you know he’s got you. He gives you a nod, encouraging you forward. You’d wanted to be the one to break the news. In this moment it was hard for you to remember why.

“So, we have some news for you guys.” You know if you let those words sit there too long the three kids will just start shouting different scenarios and ideas at you, so it’s best to just get it out. “You’re going to have a new baby brother or sister.”

There. The hard part was done. Now you were ready to see their reactions. Only, none come at first. You simply sit there in your husband’s lap, three pairs of eyes staring back at you. It feels like your chest seizes up and you internally wonder if you’d said the words aloud or not.

But finally, a smile cracks on Ryan’s face and he sits up straighter.

“Really?” he asks.

The initial response breaks the ice, allowing the younger Munson siblings to sink into the conversation as well.

Eliza looks a little confused while Luke’s eyebrows pull together and he lets out a groan as he flops back on the couch.

“Ugh, that means you guys still do it,” he says.

You can’t help but balk at his words, your cheeks heating up. Honestly, it shouldn’t surprise you coming from Luke. It certainly didn’t shock your husband.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at the fourteen-year-old. “How old do you think we are?”

“63,” Eliza answers immediately with complete confidence.

Stifling a laugh, Ryan leans in towards you, you meeting him halfway to hear what he has to say.

“Be glad that the age part of that is what she focused on,” Ryan mumbles to you and you nod in agreement.

Eddie runs his hand over his face, pushing past the age thing. “Eliza, do you understand about the baby?”

The little girl tilts her head to the side like a confused puppy. She looks alarmingly like her father with an open and curious expression on her cherubic face.

“A baby?” she asks.

“That’s right,” Eddie says with a nod. “There’s a baby growing in Mommy’s tummy.”

This seems to puzzle Eliza more than anything else that has been said. Her face scrunches up as she tilts her head to the other side. “How did it get there?”

At her question, both of your teenage sons turn to look at the two of you with shit-eating grins on their faces. Of course they’d be no help.

“Yeah, how?” Luke asks, feigning innocence.

Heat blooms fire in your cheeks and Eddie clears his throat before shooting the boys a quick glare. By the way he clenches his fist, you can tell your husband is resisting throwing a couch pillow at the younger teen.

“Well,” Eddie says, taking a calming breath, “when mommies and daddies love each other, their love can grow a baby.”

Questions still swim in Eliza’s eyes so you swoop in to add more information before she can ask anything more specific.

“And the baby grows in my belly until they’re big and strong and can be born,” you add.

The little gears turning in Eliza’s head are practically visible as she thinks over her parents’ words. She’s silent for a few moments before speaking.

“I’m the baby.”

“You’ll always be our baby girl,” Eddie is quick to assure her. This was his biggest worry in telling the kids; Eliza was so used to having everyone wrapped around her finger. “Ryan and Luke are still my baby boys.”

The three-year-old isn’t convinced.

“…I’m the baby.”

With a soft smile, you lean forward and scoop your daughter up in your arms. She settles in your lap with a little huff, and you press reassuring kisses to her chocolate curls.

“You are. But there’s going to be another baby. That means you get to be a big sister now.”

The toddler ponders this aspect for a moment, eventually asking, “What I do?”

“Well, before the baby is born you can help me pick out things for the nursery and some cute baby clothes,” you say, appealing to her stylish streak. “You know I trust your fashion sense more than the boys.”

Eliza’s small head bobs up and down in agreement. Never again would she let her brothers pick out her outfits—she’s learned her lesson.

“Then after the baby is born,” you continue, “you can teach them all kinds of stuff. You’ll be to the new baby like Ryan and Luke are to you.”

“Will…” Eliza’s bottom lip starts to tremble, another worry taking hold in her mind. “Will they still love me and play with me?”

Her big brothers are on duty though, already reassuring her before you can even raise your head to look at them.

“Of course, squirt,” Luke says, reaching forward and poking her full belly. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

“A new baby is just one more person to love,” Ryan explains with a shrug of his shoulders. “But that doesn’t mean we love you any less.”

“The heart can always make more love,” Eddie adds, taking his daughter’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“And just think,” Luke says, eyes widening with his trademark mischievous grin, “when they get older, you and I can play pranks on them like Ryan and I do to you.”

Large doe eyes light up at that, Eliza always wanting to be a part of her big brother’s shenanigans. The new idea clearly excites her and the prospect of her becoming a mini-Luke is too exhausting for you to even consider.

Eliza next turns those big brown eyes on you, now looking a little more serious than excited.

“Mama, can you make the baby a girl?”

Both you and Eddie chuckle at her request.

“I can’t control that, sorry kid,” you tell her with a small smile.

“I hope she’s a girl,” Eliza says, sounding more like she’s declaring what will be rather than what she wants.

“No!” Luke protests with an overdramatic whine. “Ryan and I need another boy on our side.”

“I say it’s a girl,” Ryan says and it makes Luke drop his jaw and look at his older brother as if he’s a traitor. But, of course, it’s Luke, so another scheme pops into his brain.

“How much are you willing to bet?”

“Oh, God,” you mumble, dropping your head forward to rest your forehead atop Eliza’s curls.

The older Munson brother appraises the younger, his eyes suspicious and inquisitive. “What do you have in mind?”

“Loser gets a tattoo.”

“No,” Eddie immediately interjects. He didn’t mind the betting, but he wasn’t about to let one of his teenage sons choose something permanent to ink on his other teenage son for the rest of their lives.

“You have like 80 of them!” Luke whines at his father.

“But all my choice, none from a bet,” Eddie says. That may or may not be true, but he’s not about to give his impressionable son any ideas. “Next.”

“Loser wears a Care Bear onesie—with a hood—into a McDonald’s and eats lunch there,” Ryan says, pointing a finger in his brother’s direction.

Luke immediately accepts. “Deal. Winner picks the Care Bear costume.”

They shake on it and Eddie can’t help the amused smirk that dances on his lips.

“I cannot wait to see this.”

The bet now settled, Ryan turns to face you. “How far along are you?”

“Just eight weeks,” you say.

“Maybe we won’t find out if it’s a girl or boy beforehand. Just keep the suspense of the bet in the air until the birth,” Eddie muses. Of course he’s egging this on.

“Can I name this baby too?” Ryan asks, eyes lighting up.

This question catches Eliza by surprise and her eyes widen comically as she stares at him.

“You named me?!”

“You’re lucky. Luke wanted to name you Donnie,” Ryan explains.

Eyes getting impossibly wider, your little girl looks up at you. “Mommy, don’t let Luke name the baby.”

With a laugh, you press a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t worry, sweet pea.”

Ryan lounges back on the couch, a smirk on his face as his eyes flit back and forth between you and Eddie.

“You know, I think you’re having this baby because I’ll be a senior next year and you don’t want an empty nest when I’m gone.”

“This is not how I envisioned this conversation going,” Eddie says with a huff of laughter.

“What did you want more of?” Luke asks. “Cheers? Tears? I’ll be happy to provide either way.”

Both of your sons start performing over-the-top expressions for Eddie, fake crying and grinning in glee, proving once and for all that they both inherited his dramatic gene.

With a sigh bigger than you’d expect from such a small girl, Eliza snuggles back against you and places a small hand on your tummy. All three Munson men start cackling in laughter at something Luke did, but Eliza just looks up at you with a straight face.

“Boys,” you say with a shake of your head.

“Tha’s why I want baby to be a girl.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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1d1195 · 17 days

Text

Toothpaste II

Here's the rest: Toothpaste

Here on 1d1195.tumblr.com we throw ethics and patient-doctor boundaries out the window. Proceed with caution.

~2.1k words

Warnings: Some smutty thoughts and innuendos present. We're getting there... 🤭

Now she was situated in the chair once more; looking prettier than she did last week. Perhaps because she was no longer in pain. Harry felt a bloom of pride swell within him. Grateful he could take the tears and pain away from her. She was too pretty to be sad.

Harry was insistent that she come back in for him to check on her teeth and the cavity he filled. He wanted to make sure that everything was correct and that she wasn’t in pain. He was analyzing her X-rays and consulted his colleagues to see if there was something he was missing when it came to her susceptible teeth. The thought of her in pain—especially after making her cry for several moments during her appointment—made him utterly distraught.

It took every spare ounce of decorum and professionalism in him to not give her his personal phone number. When he read her new patient form that she submitted online, he thought he was just being kind. He didn’t have anything to do that particular Wednesday she needed to be seen, so to him it was no big deal. He thought she was exaggerating—not that he thought patients exaggerated in general, but the idea of her pulling her own tooth out in the hardware store...

There was a reason one of the secretaries had Harry look it over while she laughed at the hyperbolic words on screen. But when Harry saw her, something shifted inside him. He didn’t know she was going to be pretty. So pretty it was hard to believe her teeth were stuffed with so many fillings. He read her dental history for the better part of the hour waiting for her to arrive. It felt like he knew her. The little quips that she expressed in previous appointments: “I’m in pain. Again. I always thought it was a joke that dentists were sadistic. But I think you like seeing me here.”

But the physical beauty was more than he ever could have anticipated. She was dressed for her job, and she was stunning. It made him wonder how anyone managed to work at all. It was hard for him to focus on his job while he was looking into her mouth. He never wanted to kick himself more than making her answer her boss’s phone call. He could see the resignation in her eyes. If Harry hadn’t intervened, she would have gone back to work. Completely in pain and he wouldn’t have gotten to fix her up. Wouldn’t have convinced her to come back in a week to make sure everything was alright.

“Good morning, love,” he smiled kindly. She grinned back.

“Good morning!” Her voice was cheerful.

Harry busied himself with putting on gloves, checking the computer, and making sure that everything was in place for his examination. “Y’seem t’be in better spirits,” he shouldn’t have felt so prideful. It was his job to fix teeth. But something about her made him feel that way. It wasn’t just that he made her feel better. It was the fact that she looked happier and more relaxed.

“I think you should refill all my current fillings. I wasn’t in any pain. Not even from the Novocain or anything,” she sounded proud herself. It was adorable. Harry was thinking the least professional things about that sweet face of hers and how badly he wanted to kiss her. It didn’t help that he would spend the better part of his examination staring at her mouth. It was a bad profession to fall in love with someone. A sweet gentle smile like hers? He was royally screwed—she didn’t even need to talk.

He chuckled at her assessment. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, love. S’kind,” he pulled the mask over his mouth and sat on the little stool and grabbed the little mirror and dental probe to press to start examining. She opened her mouth instinctively without him having to say a word. Of course it wasn’t otherworldly, but he thought she was. So, it meant something to Harry. It was silly and insane, but he couldn’t help it. She was adorable. It made him nauseous to think she’d be in pain and continue working. Moreover, working for that sorry excuse for a man that screamed at her loud enough Harry could hear through the phone pressed to her ear. “Feeling better?” He asked quietly.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled around the tools in her mouth. “Muh bett-ah”

He smiled; grateful it was covered by the mask on his face. He was sure he was smiling at her the way he wasn’t supposed to. He was glad he had the glasses and light to hide the adoration that was surely in his eyes as he watched her. “Good,” he nodded firmly.

“I got laid off,” she said. “I didn’t even realize how much I hated it,” she shook her head with distaste coloring her features. “I loved my work, but I hated my job. Does that make sense? Probably not,” she shrugged with a giggle that made Harry almost gleeful with the sound. “But I went right to a temp agency, and I’ve already had two job interviews. My boss didn’t write me a letter of recommendation, but the HR woman was happy to do so for me. Apparently, she was really sad I was let go,” she frowned. “I guess I caused the least amount of drama in the entire building, and it was right of me to stick up for myself. That’s what sick time was for,” she bit her lip. “So, thank you.”

“Me?” Harry couldn’t contain the surprise on his face or in his voice. He pulled the mask from his mouth, removed the goggles and light. Confusion lined his face as he tilted his head at her. “I jus’ fixed y’cavity love. S’my job.”

“But you made me stay so you could do that. If you didn’t tell my boss off, I probably would have gone right back to the office before you had a chance to help,” she explained.

He was glad his assumption was right, but it made him sad. Frowning, he tutted disapprovingly at her. “Love, s’not good.”

She shrugged. “It’s irrelevant now. I’m happy for the first time in like two years. Money is a little stressful, but I got a severance to keep me afloat. They have to give me insurance through the end of the year or until I get a new job so...” she shrugged. “I have good references. Plus, I always have dental school,” her smile was so cute. Like a secret for just the two of them. It nearly made him blush.

He chuckled. “Well...m’glad y’happy. If y’have trouble finding a job let me know. I know people...and I was serious. I’d hire y’in a heartbeat.”

“I’d be useless, Dr. Styles. I know next to nothing about dentistry other than my own history—”

“Harry,” he said quietly. A reminder that he told her to call him that last week.

She bit her lip. “Harry,” she repeated just as soft. Like she wasn’t supposed to say it. “Anyway, thank you,” she repeated, gratefully. “But I think I need a little break. I took that job because I was fresh out of college and wanted my foot in the door. I can wait a minute before taking a new job. I can research and make sure I don’t just like my work but my job too.”

God, he wanted to kiss her. “Well, m’offer stands,” he started to remove his glove from his hand.

“Actually,” she said and pointed to one of her molars in the back of her mouth. Harry left the glove in place. “One of my old fillings has a rough edge, could you look at it? I was so stressed-out last time I didn’t even get to ask.”

“Who was this dentist, love?” He frowned. She giggled sweetly leaning back in the chair. Harry grabbed the little mirror off the tray of tools. He didn’t replace his goggles or his mask. He just reached gently for her lower jaw and held the mirror in front of her lips. “Open.”

“Not even dinner first?” She asked quietly, with a smile. It was a reflex. Flirty and inappropriate beyond his wildest imagination. This time he did actually blush. His own lips parted, and his eyes flicked to hers unsurely and he almost released her jaw. “Oops,” she giggled, feigning innocence. Harry was so startled he didn’t know what to say to her. The words were lost. She flirted with him. It made the pit of his stomach flutter with butterflies and his heart skipped a beat. How was she so casual about it? She was so cute and so pretty he couldn’t believe it. “Sorry,” she whispered more seriously. “It just slipped out,” she promised. “I’ll be professional,” she assured him, straightening her posture and her eyes seemed to lack the light and playfulness that he witnessed only seconds before.

But he didn’t want her to be professional. He wanted to make another joke. Or lock the exam room door and take her up on the offer. But he needed to relax before his scrubs left little to the imagination for her innuendo and how it affected him below the waist. He cleared his throat and peered in her mouth trying to focus on the task when all he could focus on was how pretty her mouth was open and waiting for him.

He shook his head. “Fuck, love,” he mumbled.

“S-tha bah?” She asked around the tools in his mouth. Her eyes widening with fear again like they did last week.

“No,” he shook his head. “S’nothing. I’ll fix y’up in a minute,” he mumbled removing his hands and turned back to the computer to occupy his mind and hands before he did something stupid.

“A dentist has never cursed at my teeth,” she continued.

“Mm,” he was trying to play it cool. He didn’t want to think about what she said. Even though it was adorable and funny. Even if it was on the inappropriate side.

But Harry didn’t care if it was inappropriate.

“I have. God,I have,” she shook her head. “Sometimes I think I should just get dentures. But I need better insurance for that.” He didn’t even crack a smile, staring at his computer, trying to keep his composure. “Me and this mouth,” she mumbled. “Between what I say and my teeth I just always ruin something here.”

“Y’didn’t,” he sighed. “Y’didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured.

“You won’t even look at me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was inappropriate and honestly rude. You’re a professional. You’re taking care of my teeth doing my job. I’ve dealt with enough sexual harassment seminars in the workplace to know that was out of line and I shouldn’t—”

“I liked it,” he turned to her and caught her gaze, cutting her sentence off. Her lips were partially open, not helping any of the inappropriate fantasies that were plaguing his mind at all. She was speechless. Harry thought it was the first time in their two meetings that he had seen her speechless. “M’not supposed to.”

“Right,” she whispered quietly. “I’m sorry,” her cheeks flushed with the same pink color as the bubblegum toothpaste that the little ones requested in the office. “I...I won’t do it again,” she promised looking at her lap shyly.

“S’not what I meant. It was funny and cute,” he smiled at her. The first sign he was breaking when he really shouldn’t have. But she was a consenting adult. There weren’t any explicit laws in thinking she was cute and adorable. He wanted to get to know her more. It just wasn’t his best idea. Sighing, he rubbed his jaw. Caution to the wind. “Can I take you to dinner?”

She smiled, and despite so many cavities when he could clearly see her gums and teeth were otherwise so well taken care of, she had the best smile. A perfect smile. All that dental work must have stressed her beyond belief. There was a mischievous glint in her eye, and he should have known the second he suggested they get dinner what she would say. But he was so enamored already he wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously. In just two short appointments it was easy to see she made his mind all jumbled. But he should have known already what she would say, all the same.

“Just so I’ll open wide?”

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**You commented that you wanted more I just wanted to make sure you knew! I can take you off if you don't want to be notified!

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #dentist!harry #toothpaste

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 months

Note

Can we get a pining villain out in their civilian clothes when they bump into hero (also in civilian clothes) and recognizes them immediately, but hero doesn’t and starts friendly conversation while villain is both unsure of what to do and secretly crushing? Sorry if that’s an odd request ahhhh ^^;

Oh god.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry-” The hero picked up the books and shoved them back into the villain’s arms awkwardly. “I don’t know where my head is today, I didn’t…nevermind, the books aren’t dirty or anything? Library hates dog ears.”

The villain shook their head slowly. They hadn’t even checked.

“And you’re okay? Not hurt or anything? I didn’t hurt you, right?”

Again, the villain shook their head, even though their shoulder was pulsing in pain. The hero was quite strong. Stronger than they looked, definitely. It wasn’t like the villain had been obsessed with the idea of finding out their civilian persona.

They knew of other villains who dedicated their entire being to finding out absolute everything about their nemesis. But for the most time, the villain didn’t want to know anything about them.

They didn’t want to know what they did or whom they talked to. Or when they were visiting friends or lovers. When they went on dates or when they broke up with someone.

Because, ultimately, it wasn’t any of their business, right? And they weren’t on such a low level to force a foul gameplay onto them. Blackmailing them, kidnapping lovers…the villain didn’t like that.

However, now that they stood in front of the hero, they weren’t quite sure what to say nor what to do. They had recognised them immediately. Their widened eyes, their fingers. At first they hadn’t been sure but some scars gave the hero away.

They were obviously hiding them, pulling down sleeves and shifting a little — it was a habit the villain was used to too.

“I’m sorry again. I’m probably taking up a lot of your time already but do we know each other?” the hero asked suddenly. They tilted their head, just like last Wednesday when the villain had explained to them how to identify a fake bomb. The sunlight was hitting the hero’s eyes just right but this was probably some cruel joke from above.

The hero was one of those popular people probably. Popular at school, at work, in the neighbourhoods. Someone everyone loved, someone who was so sweet they were rotting teeth left and right.

Months ago, the villain had thought they were jealous of them but that was wrong. They were enchanted by them, wondering how a person who had gone through hell and back was still able to be kind.

“No…”

“Are you sure? You seem very familiar to me,” the hero said. They were curious, seemed intrigued by the villain. Their backstory wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew about the troubled childhood, the kidnapping and the trading. Being raised like cattle.

Everyone knew.

And the villain could relate. Opening up about it was difficult but they felt like the hero could understand, they could love them despite everything.

If the villain was even worthy of that kind of affection. They closed their eyes, trying to throw that thought into a bin.

“…I’m just a tourist,” the villain lied. Their neck was getting embarrassingly hot. Why was the hero staring at them like that? They’d never seen their expression be so soft, had never seen the little scar above their brow. Somehow, this felt like a prank.

“Hm, well, I’m really sorry for bothering you then.” The hero’s eyes fell down to the books and back up. A hint of a smile decorated their face and for a second, the hero just stood there in front of them with the busy sounds of the city passing by. “For how long are you staying?”

“…I am departing tomorrow.”

“Oh? Back home?”

“Yeah…” This was going terribly. The villain swallowed. They felt like a teenager again, too awkward to talk to their crush. In costume it was a little different. They could allow themselves to put on a show and pretend to be eccentric. But here they felt so…exposed.

“Pardon me, this is probably a little abrupt but…” Suddenly, the hero took a step forward. Their hand reached the villain’s wrist, soft fingers finding a scar a little too quickly. “…you’re really pretty.”

They looked up into the villain’s eyes.

“And by the way…the library doesn’t like it when tourists take books home either. Sending them back is such a hassle.” They tapped onto the copy on top, a volume of The Divine Comedy the villain had grabbed almost mindlessly. The hero took a step back, smiling. “See you soon, then.”

Oh god. They knew.

#Dante Dante Dante Dante #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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redroomwidows · 8 months

Text

notes: Sirius x James my love. Sirius and James sweaty and shirtless my love. Sirius and the reader are just as in love with James as he is with them in this. not a lot of quidditch content I'm sorry.

warnings: I can't write flirting, second person, I guess like sexual flirting?? I feel like i've written this wrong idk. reader is referred to as ‘gorgeous’

Poly! Prongsfoot × gn!reader

——-&——-

Dating Sirius Black came with many perks, he was all over you, all the time, and had no problems with PDA, or ‘defending your honour’. A perk you didn’t expect though, was bonding over your crush on James Potter.

James was tall, buff and had dark brown curls you wanted to run your hands through. He was also kind and passionate -

“You two are staring again,” Remus mutters from his spot next to you and Sirius. James had appeared after a nap, his hair a mess and his lips pouted and your eyes had not left him.

When you’d first started dating Sirius, Peter had joked how you’d also be dating James, oh how you both wished that was true. Sirius had been best friends with Jamed since first year, and he’d probably been in love since fourth. You could love two people at the same time, you both knew this.

What you didn’t know however, was that James felt the same way. Well, until he became terrible at hiding it.

You’d first noticed after a Summer Quiditch match, when the entire team had celebrated their victory by lying on the floor and begging McGonagall to pour water on them - she’d refused. Thus after the match, as little clothes as possible were on and Sirius had insisted you stay in his dorm while he showered. When he exited, a towel draped over his waist, two pairs of eyes were on him.

“Both of you see something you like?” he’d joked and while you merely laughed, James blushed and looked down “Prongs?”

“Huh?” he looks up, and then down again

“Are you checking my boyfriend out?”

“What! No-”

“You weren’t? I’m offended, I thought I looked hot,”

“No I mean, you do!” an eyebrow is raised and James scrunches up his face “I’m going to shower!” when he leaves the room, you smirk at Sirius.

Around a month later, after lots of flirting (mainly on Sirius’ end), the Gryffinfdors were throwing a party, And a lot of firewhiskey was involved. James ended up on the sofa with you, his head in your lap, looking at your boyfriend dancing .

James sighs, almost lovesick “You alright there Jamie?”

“He’s pretty,” you smirk and run your hands through his hair

“Yeah, he is,”

“You know he’s finally dating someone?” Oh, he’d got to that stage where he didnt know who you were “And they’re great, they’re really great, as great as Padfoot, and I love him, so they must be really great,” you stay very still, letting him continue “But I still feel jealous y’know, and I don’t actually know who of,”

“Maybe its both of them?” You suggest softly and he nods

“Both,”

Once you’d told a sober Sirius, that had opened up a rabbit hole, a huge one, one which included dates, that weren't really dates, and flirting that definitely was flirting. Sirius liked to make James - and you - blush, and laugh, and very flustered.

As the weather gets colder, you find yourselves in the common room more often, and on Wednesday, you enter and find James and Sirius cuddling on the sofa, this wasn’t new, it was something they’d always done, but today you needed a hug, and it made you slightly upset to see them so content.

“Hey Gorgeous,” Sirius greats and you smile, James waves “You alright?” you shake your head

“Need a hug,” you mumble, James goes to get up but you stop him “Want a James hug,” and so you sit next to him, and climb into his arms, sighing comfortably, Sirius’ hand’s find your hair, and James arms are around your waist. You were tired, tired of pretending that you didn’t like James, that you didn’t know he liked you, that he and Sirius haden’t loved eachother for years.

“James,” You start quietly “Do you remember getting incredibly drunk and forgettting who I was?”

“Uh- No?” you sigh and turn around, your elbows either side of him, you look up at Sirius and wink.

“I do,” and then you kiss him.

#prongsfoot x reader #prongsfoot x you #prongsfoot x y/n #hp x reader #james potter x reader #the marauders x reader #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x you #poly marauders x reader #sirius black x you

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faye-writes-stuff · 1 year

Text

welp here we go again

INCORRECT QUOTES TIMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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Y/n: petition to remove the 'd' from Wednesday Dream: Wednesay Y/n: Not what I had in mind, but I'm flexible

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Y/n: Dream, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power! Dream: Well of course I have. Dream: Have you ever tried going mad without power? Dream: It's boring.

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Y/n: Today is a day of running through hurdles. Ranboo: Aren’t you supposed to jump OVER hurdles? Y/n: Whatever. Fear is only something to be afraid of if you let it scare you.

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Y/n: Ranboo... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? Ranboo: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Y/n: Y/n: I wrote sanitize, Ranboo

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Y/n: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail Sapnap: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

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Y/n: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming Sapnap: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak

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George: Welcome, fellow idiots Y/n: Hello, George George: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot Y/n: You underestimate me

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George: *Gets down on one knee* Y/n: Oh my god, it’s finally happening. George: *Falls over* Y/n: The poison is kicking in.

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Tommy: Change is inedible. Y/n: Don't you mean inevitable? Tommy, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

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Tommy: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Y/n's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get them out...

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Tubbo: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running? Y/n: Oh, I’m always running Y/n: The question is from what

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Tubbo: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are. Y/n: It’s not a joke. Y/n: *sniffles* Y/n: I’m a legit snack.

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Foolish: Lol heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this lmfao Y/n: What did you do op? Foolish: A MISTAKE

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Y/n: Foolish... Foolish: Oh no, 'Foolish' in b-flat. Foolish: You're disappointed.

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Technoblade: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE Y/n: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially Technoblade, desperately, as Y/n bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE Y/n: Oh! B positive. Technoblade: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE Y/n:

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Technoblade, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something. Y/n: I saw a squirrel in a tree today! Technoblade, with the tone of someone who is used to Y/n: Outstanding. Technoblade: This is what I’m talking about people.

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Technoblade: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you. Y/n: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Technoblade: Absolutely not.

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i accidentally hit post on this too early so if you saw this b4 it was finished- no you didn't

ANYWAYS enjoy, because the last one got over 300 likes so

ic master list :)

#techno x reader #technoblade x reader #platonic technoblade x reader #ranboo x reader #platonic ranboo x reader #tommyinnit x y/n #tommyinnit x reader #platonic tommy x reader #platonic!sapnap x reader #platonic tubbo x reader #platonic bench trio x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #dsmp incorrect quotes #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound x y/n #Faye writes #Faye's incorrect quotes

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ornii · 5 months

Note

Wednesday addams x male reader who can read minds and sees the future and he always teases her. During a fencing session she can't land a hit and gets increasingly angry then tells him she loves him and it catches him out and she manages to get a hit but it leaves a scar on his eye. He's furious thinking she said it just to win they argue and she says she meant it then a lot of fluff.

They are already dating and he's irish please.

So Heimdall basically, but more simply put:

“It’s Skill, Not luck.”

Wednesday Addams X Male Reader

Fencing, the art of footwork and swordplay was founded ages ago and to this day still a practical challenge for those not versed in their footsteps. In Nevermore there were two divisions, same teams of course. Men’s Division and Women’s division, both intense divisions of fencing and sharp skills. But for both, they were dominated by the “Power Couple.”

Wednesday Addams was a fierce competitor, swift and decisive with her movements, she made little error and did not err from her training. Teaching too of the Class was a challenge she enjoyed and profoundly excelled in. Her Boyfriend on the other hand, it was very different.

(Y/n), Wednesdays Irish Boytoy as many would claim, was also top of the men’s division, not for his evil calculating attitude, but his absolute abilities. Foresight. Being able to see the future, see your opponents moves before they can even make them gives you an almost omnipresent advantage in many situations, fencing especially. It was a normal day being King of the castle, another student falls before (Y/n), as he scores the final point.

“Game goes to (Y/n).” The teacher said, and (Y/n) calmly took off his visor to smile, he offers his hand to the student who takes it.

“A bit predictable, but nonetheless, good effort.” He says, (Y/n) then casually turns to face all the other students.

“Well, anyone else? I’m open to all challenges?” He says with a vast number of confidence, nobody really took up his offer, why would they? he could literally read them like a book, know their attacks, what they’re going to do, it’s impossible to touch him. everyone was silent until one voice decided to test her mettle.

“I’ll play your game.” A voice creeps from behind everyone, they split like the ocean and to Wedensday, dressed in Black as usual. (Y/n) was actually taken aback by his girlfriend challenging his spot.

“A ghrá?” (Love?)” he asks a bit shocked, he shrugs it off and smiles. “Very funny Wednesday..” he combs his hair back but sees she isn’t the one for jokes or in the mood to jest. He knows that look in her eyes.

“With all due respect, you’re the one only I haven’t bested in any division, I plan on changing that… I suppose luck has to do with that.”

“Not Luck, Skill.” (Y/n) responds, but decides that now would be the time, he turns to the teacher.

“Then let’s begin.” He asks, the Match was set but (Y/n) did not put his visor to cover his mask on.

“(Y/n)? Mask?” The Teacher Orders, (Y/n) calmly raised his hand. “It’s no need, she won’t lay a finger on this beautiful face she adores.” (Y/n) smugly got in position. Wednesday kept a scowl, everyone was at the ready. (Y/n) watches calmly as his foresight activates, an almost ethereal spirit from Wednesday shows her next movement, right foot forward, strong lunge to the left. Her body follows suit and (Y/n) effortlessly dodges the first stab. Everyone tries to contain their laughter, seeing Wedensday get played like a fiddle. She begins to pick up the pace, going for more quick and calculated stabs. (Y/n) begins to dodge left and right, reading each movement.

“Well! Someone’s confident today!” (Y/n) smugly steps back, he locks his arm in and counters Wednesday, a loud thud is heard, (Y/n) again dodged her stab, this time his rapier casually poking her forehead, only shouted by her visor was her growing anger.

“Point, (Y/n).” The teacher allows the two to separate. (Y/n) calmly raising his rapier. He can sense the unease, the growing anger in Wedensday, he grins and blows a kiss. The students watching try not to laugh as the couple have their little spout. “You know Wednesday, it’s like a song really. You’ve heard the tune before, the lyrics, you know them by heart so there’s no reason for you to struggle to sing the words. That’s what this is like… I know what you’re going to do, makes counters too easy.” He explains, She said nothing.

“Wish to try again black dove?” (Y/n) said, Wedensday without any hesitation gets back in her stance.

“Shut up and Duel..” she mutters and this time attacks more ferociously. Students watch with bated breath as (Y/n) sees, she’s going faster, trying to overwhelm his foresight. But even going as fast as a cheetah, her attacks remain futile as (Y/n) ducks down, and delivers a firm poke to her naval.

“Point two, (Y/n).” The teacher delivers the second one.

“This is best to five sweetheart. I know you can do better.” (Y/n) steps back, and Wednesday removes her visor, “Fine, no safety, I will win.” She and (Y/n) lock eyes. His confidence is overwhelming, (Y/n) doesn’t even assume a combat stance, Wedensday charges and uses her quick movements, but each attack was perfectly parried. (Y/n) calmly walks back as Wedensday attempts to put more pressure on him.

“Love, this is amusing…. But please, I’d rather not cut you. I do love you after all.” He tilts his head, dodging her stab. Wednesday is visibly angry, and says something (Y/n) could never foresee.

“I love you too! Which is why I’m trying to stab you—“ she blurts out in a small little fit of anger, (Y/n)’s foresight took a nosedive as his eyes go wide, “wait, did you—“ before he can ask, he could see the rapier racing to his face, with barely any hesitation (Y/n) threw his blade up to attempt to counter, but it was too late for him.

A splash of blood hits the ground and (Y/n) falls back, clenching his eye, grunge of pain echo though the room and stunned silence. Wednesday gripped her rapier, adrenaline finally causing though her cold veins, she suddenly comes down from her high and sees what she’s done, the blood splatter reached her forehead and she wiped the warm liquid from her skin and then quickly saw (Y/n) being helped by the teacher. Gut twisting regret was all over her face, she took a step to try to approach him, but something stopped her. Guilt.

Wednesday sat outside the nurses office, waiting impatiently. Her members have been agitated so bad, her foot is tapping the ground. She’s never done this, she could only stare at the ground, pondering the fate of her boyfriend. The doors knob turned and opened, the Nurse stepped out with bloody gloves and Wednesday hopped out of her chair.

“How is He?” Was her immediate first question.

“He’s fine, thankfully the cut just tore though the cheek muscle and part of the upper eyebrow, missed his cornea by millimeters. should be fine with a bad scar. I have to contact his family.” The Nurse walks off and Wednesday turns to the door, a wave of negative emotions washes over her. She gripped the handle and twisted the knob to enter. She saw (Y/n)’s face, half of it, he was staring at the wall.

“… What do you want?” He asks coldly. Wednesday had never felt so, off.

“I, wished to speak with you—“

“Why? You got what you wanted. You wanted to use our relationship to get one over me, you got what you wanted, right?” He turns to her, letting her see the other half, his eye was covered in gauze with clear medical tape holding it there, the beginning and end of the scar can be seen under the pad.

“You’re right, it is What i wanted, and I was selfish and, evil to do something like that.”

“Really?” He said with such Fake Shock, Wednesday couldn’t be angry at him for it. He looks back at the wall and then from the Corner of his good eye, sees her sit next to him.

“(Y/n), Im sorry…” She Mutters, (Y/n) turns to face her, she could barley look at him.

“You’re disfigured because of me, when you went down I had this sense of fulfillment and pride, but then, it felt like needles were tearing though my heart. I always thought I’d enjoy that sensation but I didn’t. I was selfish, bitter and angry, I hope you can forgive me.” Wednesday lays out her apology, it’s dead air for a moment until (Y/n) sighs.

“First of all, I’m not disfigured..” he grabs the tape and pulls it off, the scar wasn’t entirely bad. The bloods Coagulation around his scar so no bleeding, just your puckish rouge like scar now, his eye looks just fine, albeit a bit red.

“Second, if you want to make it up to me..” he begins, “Kiss it to make it feel better.” He said with a smug smile, Wednesday was actually taken aback, seems his attitude has always stayed intact. “But if you don’t want to—“ he trails on, before feeling her palms grip his face, more accurately the cheeks of his face and she lays a cold but, loving kiss on his closed eye. She lets go and (Y/n) stares at her, actually at a loss for words, he couldn’t hide his smile. He scoots over and lied back, laying his head on her lap, Wednesday was less than enthusiastic about it, his eye looked up to hers.

“Ye know, this might be dumb to say..” he starts,

“But what?” She replies.

“You kissing my eye, I actually didn’t see that coming..” he chuckles, Wednesday closed her eyes, trying to stiffen a smile to not show.

“Heh.. I love you, Wednesday..”

“… I love you too..”

#netflix #male reader #wednesday #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday x reader #reader insert #wednesday addams x reader #wedensday x you

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fangirl-dot-com · 6 months

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Chapter 6 - Ok It’s Happening! Everyone Stay Calm!

This chapter is going to span Tuesday night into Wednesday night. Nothing really happens in between the initial post and family dinner, so I tried to add some things to fluff it up. You finally get to read a bit of reader-lore. The next chapter, “Family Dinner,” will be posted Wednesday night. Enjoy and don’t forget to comment to be added to the tag list :D

Arthur had to leave early Monday morning. You were sad, but were thankful that he was able to come spend a few nights with you. You almost forgot why you were in London in the first place.

Oh yeah, to become one of the best freaking F1 drivers there ever were. You could see the TikTok edits now. You hoped there would be at least one with an Olivia Rodrigo song in the background. Or maybe Taylor Swift? The possibilities were endless.

You were able to drive the car a few more times in the span of Monday and today. You really felt like you were becoming more familiar with it. One of the last times, they put you into the RB-19, just to get a feel for it for Vegas.

Speaking of Vegas, something popped up on your Instagram that you just had to share with Vito.

“Hey Vito, can you find me someone to marry while I’m in Vegas?” you nonchalantly asked while the two of you were having breakfast. He nearly spit out his orange juice.

“Excuse me?” he responded while wiping his mouth with the nice cloth napkin. The brunch place was very high end. You ended up getting pancakes though, while Vito got something you didn’t even want to try to pronounce.

“Well, there’s this Formula 1 wedding chapel, and I thought, how cool would it be to get married there while it’s up? So, I thought I’d ask to see if you could find me someone.”

Vito took a deep breath before massaging his brow. He was “this close” to quitting. But he would never do that to you. Instead, he said, “Kid. You cannot get married in Vegas.”

He thought you would have put up more of a fight, but you just shrugged and stuffed your mouth full of another bite of pancake. He shook his head as he tried to take another sip of his drink. The breakfast went well after that. You didn’t try to bring it up, but somehow, you would find your way to this chapel. Even if you weren’t going to get married.

As the two of you walked out of the building, you angled your body to Vito. “So, what do I have to do?”

He looked at his phone, “So you have to approve your helmet. And then we have to take some pictures for your post tonight. Tomorrow we have a flight to catch that will take us to Vegas. After, you will get settled at the hotel and then eat dinner with the team.”

“Geez, that seems like a lot doesn’t it?” You opened the driver door to your vehicle. Vito had said that it was your time to drive. You wanted to argue that every other waking moment was spent behind the wheel, but you knee that he wanted to be the passenger princess for once. He said that was not the case as he couldn’t handle you picking Country Girl by Luke Bryan one more time.

He said he even heard the song in his dreams.

You thought that was total madness. How could someone get tired of Luke Bryan. Maybe Daniel would listen to it with you at some point, if the two of you got close enough. Vito had walked around the car, got in, and started to buckle.

Using the button to start the car, the engine came to life. You carefully backed out of the parking space and pulled onto the road. Per the request of the Vito and Mitch, you were to return to RB to go over some last-minute paperwork and things of that nature.

Since the drive was so familiar by now, the time seemed to fly by even faster. You knew what you were doing. It was crazy to think that just last week, you were winning your F2 championship with no future plans. And now you were pulling up to headquarters like it was just another Tuesday.

Time was weird like that.

At the building, you almost cried when you saw your helmet. You wanted to make a joke, but decided against it. You could do that later over the radio in free practice one. It was everything that your little F1-loving heart ever wanted. The white and silver had a great contrast. But your favorite part was the glitter. You tried it on and had a couple of pictures taken. You let them know which ones were your favorites.

You later found yourself in a conference room going over last-minute legal things. Vito made sure that you knew what you were getting into with a multi-year contract and how much it would damage you if you were to break it. You were still 100 percent with it all. You also discussed what picture you wanted to use for their official statement. You picked one that had been taken after your first F2 win of the 2023 season. You sheepishly smiled when they pointed out the Mercedes logo, but you told them that it was there since you had won a sponsorship to help pay for everything. You had no loyalties to the other British team.

“All right, I think that wraps things up. Any questions, comments, or concerns?” one of the lawyers asked as he packed his things up.

With multiple shakings of heads, he bid farewell and left the room.

Now that it was just you, Mitch, and Vito, you spun your chair to face the two of them. You felt like a villain out of a movie as you put your hands together.

“Mitch, did you bring the special thing that I asked for?” you said in a darker tone, wanting to feel mysterious.

She rolled her eyes as she got up and walked to a clothing bag that was laying on the end of the table. She brought it back over and laid it over your lap.

You unzipped the bag and stared at the item. It was a vintage Red Bull bomber jacket. Just the sight wanted to make you cry.

You stood up and carefully put the jacket on. You turned towards Mitch and Vito.

“How do I look?” you asked. Now you were getting shy. You might be loud with people you were comfortable with, but you always put people’s opinion of you over anything else. They both had comforting smiles.

“I think you were born to wear that jacket kid,” Vito said, with almost tears in his eyes.

“Same here Y/n. You truly belong with us,” Mitch said as she gave you a hug. You let a few tears fall when doing so. It had been long since you really felt accepted somewhere.

With your parents, you constantly wanted their approval, but never got it. That drove you to be the best at everything. People always told you to quit in F4, but you slowly rose above them as you entered F3. There, people told you that you, a girl, did not belong in F3. You were only 15 at the time.

You proved them wrong as you became the first female to join the ranks of F2 two years later. You spent 3 years fighting for your hard earned right to be there. It got easier with the help of friends, but you always wanted more. One more chance to prove yourself. And you got that with the F1 seat.

“Could we take a few pictures for me to post later?” Mitch and Vito agreed. You three found a nice spot on a hidden balcony. It basically looked like you were on the sidewalk, but you wouldn’t take that risk. It was too close and you had people right where you wanted them.

You had grabbed an iconic can of Red Bull on your way out and cracked it open to pose with it. It took a good 30 minutes for you to get the pose correctly.

While going through those photos, you spoke up.

“Did you know that my first kart had the Red Bull logo on it. I loved that thing, even if I crashed it multiple times.” You chuckled at the memories.

“What goes around comes around,” Vito muttered as he went through the photos.

“Reminds me of that Taylor Swift sound on Tik Tok. It’s been a long time coming.”

Mitch gave a playful scoff, “You should use that as your caption.” You hadn’t thought of that! Mitch definitely thought that you wouldn’t, but the look on your face showed her that you really wanted to do it. She, once again, rolled her eyes at your antics. But, she herself was comforted by your easy-going personality. She had only known you for a couple of days, but you were becoming very dear to her.

You were becoming very dear to everyone. Every worker was amazed at your talent. A few even compared you to Sebastian Vettel and their very own champion Max Verstappen. But Mitch wouldn’t tell you that in fear of scaring you off. It was a big thing to be compared to the two legends, but you didn’t need that pressure on you. You already had been through so much. Vito had let Mitch know before of what has happened with past race strategists. She never wanted to be like what you’ve had to deal with.

You now were beginning to explain the entirety of why Taylor Swift was re-recording her albums in the first place. Your hands were pointing at invisible objects in the air while Vito just stood and listened. Mitch thought it would be hilarious to see you and Max discuss race tactics.

There was the Maxsplaining and the Leclerifying. Now you would be Y/n-strating (illustrating but with your name in front).

“And that is why we don’t like Scooter. We’re gonna come for his ankles before he can come for ours. Mother never told us to be nice to him,” you gestured as you finished your rant. Vito looked bored to death while Mitch was just smirking at the two of you. You wondered what she was thinking about.

Oh well. She could read your mind but you couldn’t read hers.

When it got dark, you and Vito headed back to hotel to pack before you were supposed to be at the hotel. Riggs, Lacy, Mitch, and other personnel would be flying out with you. There would be no commercial flight, instead there would be a private plane for everyone. You couldn’t wait, since this would be the first time to fly privately.

There was really nothing different to it until you actually got on the plane. Security was the same and the private lounge area wasn’t much different than the ones you had already been to. There were fewer seats on the plane, but everyone fit comfortable.

You were excited that you didn’t have to pay for WIFI on the plane to watch your TV shows. There were a couple of Brooklyn 99 episodes that you hadn’t seen yet. Once those were finished, you told yourself that you’d take a quick nap and wake up way before you landed.

That was a lie.

You practically slept the entire way there, and was only awoken by the plane landing. You were excited to be back in the states. You hadn’t been in years. Texas would always be your favorite state though, since you lived there for 5 years when you were in your teens. You had begged Arthur and Ollie to go with you once, but they declined and you ended up not going. You couldn’t wait to drive at COTA.

The nap really helped as you weren’t exhausted when you got to the hotel. Vito told you though that you had time to sleep before you needed to wake up the next morning. But the nerves were getting to you.

At 9 a.m. Red Bull would be posting the statement. Which reminded you to do the same. You inhaled sharply as you picked the pictures on your Instagram. You were able to find a picture of your old kart, and you definitely used Mitch’s suggestion for the caption. You tagged Red Bull before posting and turning off your phone. You could deal with everything tomorrow morning when you had gotten a good night’s sleep.

Well, that good night’s sleep was way too short for your liking. Your alarm sounded way too loud and interrupted the nice dream that you were having. It was something about marrying some dude at the F1 chapel. You just couldn’t get it out of your mind.

You took a shower to at least feel better. The staleness of the plane air clung to you throughout the night. Should you have showered after sending the world into a panic? Yes. But did you? No. Your phone might as well have combusted last night. Turning on the front screen, there were thousands upon thousands of notifications. You simply swiped left and deleted them all.

Opening your Instagram, it was worse. Your face was everywhere. Happily, enough, almost everything was a positive outlook. Only a few bad ones stood out, but you knew better than to look. While scrolling, you were interrupted by a face time request from Ollie. You quickly picked up and were met with the sight of his face. With jaw dropped, he just stared at you.

“Hello to you to?”

You pulled the phone away from your face as he started screeching. You just listened as he ranted for another 10 minutes before he went silent.

“You done?” you deadpanned.

“Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Ok good.” You went on to tell him about everything that happened in the past week. He definitely whined when you told him that Arthur knew before he did. He demanded that you tell him next time. And you told him that you hoped that there wouldn’t be a next time. You were determined to stay with Red Bull for as long as possible.

After the phone call, you kind of just chilled around the room all day. Dinner wasn’t until later and you had time to get ready.

After watching episodes upon episodes, you saw that you needed to get ready. With your trusty playlist, cans of hair spray, your makeup, and your curling iron – you were ready for the battle that was looking perfect for dinner.

Each curl had to be calculated, each face product must be weighed to the exact suggested amount. Did you do either? No.

You just did it how you normally did, and somehow you got it done. You took a quick picture and posted it on your story. The dress you picked was black. A long slit showed just enough leg, while there was only one sleeve. You paired it with some gold heals. You only hoped it wasn’t too much, but you wanted to make a good impression. Vito had gotten the go ahead from Christian beforehand. The restaurant was supposed to be of the upmost hoity-toity-ness and you hoped you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself.

With a knock on your door, you knew it was time to meet the family.

(Your story)

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oh-meretseger · 2 months

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part 2 (of whatever this is) - Clean Freak

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

notes: 18+! smut (there will be a lot more coming, I’m pouring all my fantasies into this fic lmao so bear with me), Jean being quite a pervert, fantasizing about oral, masturbation

word count: 3,4k

“You're gonna let Jean see you in THAT?!" Sasha yelled out suddenly, right after she promised to stay when Jean was coming over to your dorm to finally finish your project. You had to complete it by Friday, and it was already Wednesday, leaving you the most frustrated with Jean you've ever been. His immature approach to the whole thing made you question how he even got admission to college. The way he ignored all the work and instead kept stealing your notes, your glasses, he pulled your hair, poked his fingers between your ribs made you think he was actually a toddler in an muscular man's giant costume...

"Yeah, you're right, I can't show any surface of skin around that manchild" you glanced in the mirror, and quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants to slide over the tight shorts that covered definitely too little. Your arms were already covered in bruises due to all the damn poking, pinching and suffering Jean put you through this week. You couldn't let him target your legs next.

Since that ominous day in the library, Jean was more insufferable than ever. You had a feeling that it had to do with the multiple seconds you were kneeling on his lap, pressed up against his chest and face... And the awkward, quiet minutes after that you spent trying to hide your blood red face. You tried to ignore the heat that spread through your body whenever that moment popped into your mind, because it just left you confused.

You also tried not to look Jean into his eyes after that, if not necessary, but you could definitely sense him get ten times more irritating since.

And working on that project with him became impossible.

But you guys finally managed to arrange you and Sasha getting a two-bed dorm room together, and it seemed like the perfect, most peacful place to finally finish the project. With Sasha being there, you hoped you both would detain from bullying the hell out of each other, and actually get the work done.

"Pookie, stop covering up, just let it happen" Sasha laughed, sitting on her bed while watching as your movements became nervous. You turned to her confused. "How long are y'all going to pretend you're not into each other?"

You blushed instantly and turned away, hoping she wouldn't see you getting embarassed right away. What is she talking about?

"Sasha-" you awkwardly searched for the right words to reply, and Sasha chuckled again. "Stop being crazy. We're not into each other"

"Sure, Jan" she replied raising her eyebrows, and you let out a giggle at the joke. Although you wanted her to know how much of an insane idea it was to think that you and Jean...

"He's a damn playboy, he probably has a roaster of girls from around the campus that I definitely wouldn't fit into" you said your thoughts out loud while folding the few pieces of clothes laying around on your bed. "He's an annoying idiot anyway"

"He doesn't have a roaster of girls, actually. But I see why you would think that" Sasha smiled as she watched your movements in the mirror. "He does seem like an arrogant jock, but I've known him for years. He's a sweetheart. And there's definitely something between you two, so stop denying it to yourself, missy”

You quickly turned your back to her while quietly smiling at her words. You hoped she couldn't see, but she chuckled as she caught a glimpse of the curve of your lips in the mirror. Sasha grabbed the pair of jeans laying next to her and started changing her comfy joggers.

"He does seem arrogant, and he makes me go insane on purpose" you frowned, putting the stack of folded clothes away to your closet. "But I've only known him for a few months, so surely, you know him better"

"I do, and he's great. And don't call me Shirley" Sasha jumped from the bed, trying to use the momentum to get her butt into the tight jeans, and you bursted out laughing as you turned to her.

Your smile faded rather quickly as you saw her changing her shirt as well, as if she was getting ready to go out.

"Where are you going?!"

"Oooh sorry, Y/N, I forgot I already made plans with Hisu to go out, we're getting froyo" her eyes sparked with pure joy at those last few words, and you felt yourself shatter, instantly starting to panic.

"NO! You promised you would stay!"

"I knowww, I really am sorry" Sasha pouted, and quickly grabbed her cute little crotcheted bag on her way to the door, as you both heard a loud knock. That pout was SO fake, you knew she was doing this on purpose... Whatever her goal was. "I'll bring you a cup of that blueberry one you like, I promise"

"YOU PRO-" you froze in your place as Sasha reached the door and it swung open, revealing Jean standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Jean!" Sasha looked up at him with the most cheerful, chirping voice, as if she didn't just betray you with this evil surprise of hers. Of course, she'd made no plans to go out with Hisu whatsoever, but she did miss her, and getting multiple cups of froyo sounded like a great afternoon plan. Besides, she did want to leave you and Jean to be in private, completely alone...

"Hi, are you not-"

"No, no, no, I've got EXTREMELY important places to be" Sasha cut Jean off as she grabbed him by his jersey, then yanked him through the doorway and into the room. You stood there in shock, watching her leave you, with him, to suffer.

"Sasha!"

"Bye, pookies!"

BANG. The door slammed shut behind her, and you two were left there, completely alone. Your eyes darted to him, and Jean adjusted the jersey on his chest that Sasha nearly ripped apart a few seconds ago.

He was clearly coming from hockey practice, you could tell not only by the oversized jersey he wore, but also by the way his hair looked. It was messy, a few ashy brown strands sticking to his temple, wet with sweat, although it seemed like he did try to quickly comb it back. His face was flushed, the skin on his cheekbones and nose dusted with a reddish tint, his lips plump and wet from the empty water bottle he held in his hand. Your eyes wandered to the stubble on his sharp jawline, fading down to his neck. The skin slightly glistened from sweat, the muscles creating lines of shadow as he raised his head...

"The hell's wrong with her" he murmured frowning, looking up to see you staring right at him. As the hazel eyes met with yours, the heat forming in your center turned into a definite warm, tingling sensation between your legs, and you felt yourself starting to melt.

What. The. Hell.

There's no way you're getting wet at the sight of this idiot, dripping with sweat, smelling like a boy's locker room.

"I don't know, she's in silly goose mode today" you quickly shrugged and turned your head to break the few moments of silence of you looking into each other's eyes. Jean held back a smile forming on his face, and he dropped his backpack on the rug next to your bed.

"Sorry for being late, practice lasted a little longer than I expected" he apologized, throwing himself on the end of your bed without a second thought. You instantly felt your stomach drop at the thud, and turned to see the most horrific sight you could ever imagine.

Jean's sweaty, dirty body laying on your clean, white bedsheets.

"JEAN!"

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Jean yelled out, half-laughing from the element of surprise, as he tried to defend himself from your immediate attack. You jumped on the bed and started pushing his body down with all the strength you could gather. "AGH, you're breaking my ribs, you rat!"

"Get off of my bed, you're fucking dirty!" you groaned as Jean put his big ass palm on your forehead, trying to get you off of him. An intense wave of anger fueled your effort to move the sweaty body twice as big as yours. "You're getting your sweat all over my stuff!"

"You should be grateful for any bodily fluid of a man touching your stuff" Jean laughed, and moved his palm to cover and smush the whole of your face, when you decided that pushing with your hands was not enough, and started bullying his ribcage with your knee. Your shouts were muffled by his hand pressed into your face, but instead of giving up, you decided to let your teeth do the talking for you. "AARGH!"

Jean's muscles lost their defensive tension due to the sharp pain of your teeth sinking into his palm, and taking adventage of his momentary weakness, you pushed him as hard as you could. His body rolled over and landed on the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

"You're fucking insane" Jean pushed himself to slowly sit up, examining his other hand that you injured with a painful hiss leaving his mouth.

"PTUH, did you not wash your hands after digging in dirt?!" you growled at him, trying to spit out the dirty taste his hand left in your mouth. But that's what you get for biting him, you guessed.

You frantically started brushing off your face when you realized, it was not only your mouth that Jean's dirty palm got smushed into, but also the precious skin of your face.

"Yeah, I jerked off with that hand after that, hope you like the taste" Jean scoffed at you, but the smug look on his face quickly turned into an honest burst of chuckle as he watched you stick out your tongue, trying to get him out of your mouth by the little spitting sounds you were doing.

"You're a prick"

"And you're clinically insane, but here we are" he replied, then pushed himself from the floor to stand up. You followed his actions, then stepped to your closet as you shook your head.

"Here" you threw your largest oversized t-shirt you could find in his direction, and he reached to catch it, followed by the clean towel tossed to his chest. "You can take a shower here"

"A shower?"

"You will NOT rub your sticky body all over my bed" you crossed your arms, looking over to him. You could feel your lips curve into a smile, seeing the confused look on his face, still flushed from running from practice and of course brutally fighting with you. Confusion on that smug face of Jean's was a rare sight to see.

And it was kinda cute.

Huh?

You quickly shook your head to get rid of the stupid thoughts, and pointed your finger in the direction of the bathroom of your dorm. "You stink"

"Get off my back, I'll sit on the chair then" Jean gestured towards the only chair in the room, being Sasha's comfy rolling desk chair - which she definitely didn't want smelling of a dirty, sweating man. You shook your head. "C'mon, I skipped showering and dropped off my stuff at my dorm just to get here in time because of your bitching ass!"

"Don't care, didn't ask" you replied with a snarky, forced smile, and tossed a pair of Connie's sweatpants to him. He lended it to Sasha a few days back, after she yeeted a bucket of chocolate ice cream into her lap at Connie’s and Jean’s dorm.

"Thanks, dipshit" Jean grimaced right back at you, and accepting his loss, turned his back to you to walk into your bathroom. You couldn't help staring at the broad shoulders, his wide back muscles moving under the jersey as he moved, just like his glute muscles under the sweatpants that became visible where the jersey rode up... "Hey, these are my sweats!"

"Tell Connie, he's the one giving away your stuff" you replied with a smirk. "You're welcome, by the way"

Jean shut the door behind him, and you threw yourself on your bed, burying your face in your hands. What the actual fuck is happening in your head?

Jean in your bathroom, on the other hand, was not so confused by his feelings as you were by yours.

He stood in front of the sink and lifted the shirt you gave him up to his face. He closed his eyes as the familiar smell of you filled his nose. It was a clean, kind of a sweet scent, that he knew exactly from all the times he got into your face, bullying you to insanity in the past few weeks.

He smiled to himself at the thought, and threw the clean clothes on the edge of the sink. It was a small bathroom, full of a bunch of shampoo bottles, cream jars, serums, pots, and whatever other girly products he couldn't identify to save his life. There was not much room to put any of his stuff.

Jean started taking his clothes off, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. You were kinda right, he did look dirty. His hair was a mess, a few strands dripping of sweat and stuck to his face and neck.

He saw you staring at it when he caught your eyes after Sasha left.

Maybe you thought of him the same way he thought of you? The way he still saw you as a stuck up little nerd, but found you more and more attractive the more he got under your skin, just turned him on so much. More than anything. Maybe it was because your angry moments made your tough, icy shell break, that you specifically made just to hide from him. And under that shell, you were not the mousy dork you wanted him to see.

His dirty, sweat-drenched clothes dropped on the tile floor one by one, as Jean got completely undressed. He saw you getting flustered more and more frequently, when you two were close to each other. He wondered if you thought of him getting naked in that small bathroom right now.

You absolutely did. You felt your cheeks growing warm under your palms, as you laid there, face still buried in your hands, Jean getting undressed on the other side of the door being the only thought in your mind. You wanted to stop the thoughts, but they sent waves of warmth down your body, making you throb in your panties...

And it felt good.

You've been denying the pleasure of letting these thoughts flow free for weeks now. You gave up. He was within a few feet from you, and he was probably already naked.

Jean grabbed the clean towel, and swiftly looked around to find a place to put it, where it'll be within reach from the shower. There was a wicker basket half-full of clothes, with a familiar pair of socks thrown on the top, covered in small little teddy bears. That was definitely Sasha's. Next to it was what looked like another laundry box. That must be yours.

Jean stopped for a moment. Instead of simply using it as a temporary towel holder, he stepped closer to the box and slowly lifted the lid.

Yes, it was definitely yours.

After a quick glance at the closed door, he carefully reached into it, pulling out a familiar lilac top of yours. He remembered it, because it was quite a tight one, not like your usual baggy t-shirts that you liked to hide under. This one top made it hard for him not to look at the round outlines of your perfect tits, your nipples poking through the thin fabric. Jean lifted the top to his nose, getting a whiff of your sweet scent.

Jean felt like such a fucking pervert at that moment. There has never been a need for him to get creepy, he could basically get any girl he wanted. There was not one time when he felt called to stalk on anyone, or act out of line, being in their bathroom and smelling their used clothes.

Dear lord.

He almost, almost convinced himself to cut it off, and just take a shower. But as he reached to drop the lilac top back in the box, a pair of panties caught his eye on top of the laundry. Fuck.

Jean already felt himself getting hard as he pulled out the soft piece of fabric, and felt it between the tips of his fingers. It was a simple cotton pair, with a blue little bow at the top. Jean closed his eyes, imagining the bow sitting right above your little pussy, and blood flowed into his groin, his cock getting rock hard in no time.

He let out a quiet sigh as he imagined how your wet folds must taste just as sweet and salivating as you smelt. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was extremely wrong... But he also couldn't stop now.

Jean wrapped his fingers around his hardened cock, and jerked himself a little bit while thinking of how he would lick and tease your little clit through this soft fabric. His tip started glistening with precum as the thought of you moaning in pleasure filled his mind. Your eyes would be looking into his, your long eyelashes blinking down at him, practically pleading him to pull the panties aside and lick your wet, creamy center.

"Holy shit" Jean whispered with a quiet, low groan and hesitated for a moment, before wrapping the pair of panties around his achingly hard cock. He had to gather all his strength to hold back his moans as he started to slide them up and down on his shaft. This is so wrong.

But he so desperately wanted to be inside of you.

He bit down on his lower lip, tightening your panties around the head of his cock. The precum leaking from the tip started to form a wet little patch on the fabric. The softness of it, your smell still lingering in his nose and overwhelming his senses, the image in his head of your legs spread wide open for him... It just felt so fucking good.

Jean started to let out a few quiet sighs as he let himself enjoy the thought of eating you out, then the whole of his body jerked in shock as a loud knock on the bathroom door stopped him in his tracks.

"Jean, what the hell are you doing? Quit admiring yourself in the mirror and get in the shower, we don't have all day" you yelled through the door. It took you multiple seconds to talk yourself out of peeping through the keyhole.

Jean quickly dropped the panties back into the laundry box and closed the lid. You heard the shower start running in no time, and you threw yourself on the bed again, as if burying your face in the pillows made all your dirty little thoughts of him go away. You imagined as water ran down on his skin, wetting his hair, dripping from his most sensitive parts...

"Holy fucking shit, I'm out of my mind" you murmured into the pillow, and cursed Sasha for leaving you to suffer in this situation.

And for being so right about you being into him.

In little less than ten minutes, the bathroom door swung open and with a cloud of hot steam around him, Jean appeared wearing the clean clothes you gave him. You sat up on your bed, and instantly bursted out laughing at the sight.

His own grey sweatpants obviously fit him right, but the large t-shirt you lended him was so tight around his chest and shoulders, it looked like it was moments from tearing apart. Not to mention the length of the shirt on his tall frame left the lower part of his stomach completely uncovered.

"I like your crop top, babygirl" you grinned looking up at his face, and Jean frowned, but you could see the glimpse of the smile he was holding back. You forced yourself to ignore the wetness you felt spreading in your panties as you looked at his happy trail peeking from under your shirt. The V-line formed by his hips lead your eyes right down to the crotch of his sweatpants, and you felt yourself blush again.

This was going to be a misery, that was for sure.

"Shut up, clean freak" Jean growled and occupied his well deserved place on the end of your bed.

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hecateslore · 2 months

Text

💌

Supervisor!Simon

i'm back babiesssss, needed some time to chill so I don't get burned out lmfao. enjoyyyy also plz let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! someone wanted to be added for supervisor!simon. So I want to build a small one, if some of you are interested. 💋

Tuesday Johnny didn’t come in, He sent you a text saying he wasn’t feeling good, Maybe it was the cake. You didn’t want to pry. Maybe it was you ditching him for Simon. You were gone for some time. Wouldn’t doubt it.

And it was a quiet Tuesday, Simon and you barely spoke. Maybe he was busy with work, you should be busy with work too. It was hard to pay attention to the screen when you couldn’t stop thinking about His goddamn dimple.

Wednesday Johnny came in and barely acknowledged you, saying a quick hello and went back to his desk. Simon on the other hand wouldn’t shut up. Monitoring everyone, he even pulled up a chair and sat by your desk for fifteen minutes, not saying anything but watching your screen. And you kind of liked it? He smelled good, Like after-shave, his cologne and laundry detergent.

All he said was good job, tapped your desk and went to the back of the office, watching Johnny's screen. Crossing his fingers hoping he saw how close you two were.

Thursday Johnny was still distant. Simon was a little quiet again, Saying good morning, giving you a small smile. Simon left early, something to do with a Doctors appointment. Johnny hadn’t said anything to you since the party. You wanted to say something but you kept your mouth closed. You could reach out in text but he wouldn’t answer. You know it. Not that you know him, but what you were receiving of course he wouldn’t.

Friday. You came into the office hoping to catch Johnny, he’d been coming in earlier than usual. There he was, sitting on his desk typing away on his phone. You go up to his desk, and those pretty blue eyes look up at you, “How have you been?” you give a small smile. Trying to hide the shame of leaving him high and dry.

“Been good.” he nods, he goes back to typing on his phone. You look at him trying to figure out his emotions. “Just good?” you chuckle, “Just good.” he affirms. “How have you been?” he asks, still not looking up. “I’ve been okay.” you say uneasily, “ Do you want to grab breakfast?” you ask, and he looks up again, “I think I’m gonna get something from the breakroom.” he shrugs. You nod, “Alright well, I guess I'll leave you to it.” You walk back to your desk. The thought of confronting him is heavy on your mind. Sitting you peaked over your shoulder and he was still on his phone not paying attention to anything else other than that 8 inch screen.

Simon’s office door swung open, And he stood with a shoulder brace over his button up. He walks up to your desk, “Morning.” he says, adjusting the strap slightly, “what’s up with that.” you point to his shoulder, In return he grabs your finger moving it out of the way, “shoulder brace.” he says picking up the same packet of sticky notes he always played with.

“You get beat up?” you snort, “no,” he rolls his eyes, “I’m old.” he jokes, “Not that old.” you say rolling the chair back and forth. Simon raises a brow and you roll your eyes at him. “You wanna grab some breakfast?” he asks,You think about it and pear over your shoulder again, “I think I’m gonna stay here.” you say. “Do you want me to bring you something?”

“I’m good.” you smile at his offer, Looking over your shoulder one more time, You’d noticed Johnny left for the breakroom. Simon left and you thought this would be the perfect time for you to talk to Johnny.

And so you did. You walked to the break room, praying to whomever that it was only Johnny in there. You reach the door, Johnny was looking in the fridge for something. Your heart felt like it was gonna jump out of your chest, how fast it was going, you were sure you were going to pass out.

“What are you looking for?” you say aloud and it makes johnny jump, he bumps his head on the fridge. He turns around rubbing the spot he hit. “I’m sorry” You apologize, “You can’t sneak on people like that,” his tone a little irked. You hide the laughter that was waiting to erupt. “Sorry.” you apologize again, “Are you okay?” you ask, he nods quietly, “You sure?”

“I’m fine.” he affirms a bit louder than his original tone. “Well excuse me.” You roll your eyes. “I just wanted to check on you.” you admit. “For what?” he says, bothered. “Uh, cause you just stopped talking to me?” You say confused, “I didn’t just stop talking to you.” he exasperates.

“Oh sorry, cause we spoke all week, silly me!” you say sarcastically. “No you and Simon did.”

And you both eye each other, a long pause between you and him, so long that Linda came in and said hello to you both. You both said hello back obviously, but as soon as she walked out. “So you’re not talking to me because of Simon?” you cross your arms. “I told you how I felt about him.” He shrugs, “I think it’s weird he wanted to fire you not even two days ago and now he’s up your ass.”

Which was true, but he wasn’t up your ass. He’s friendly. “People can change.” You say. “And I’ll hang out with whoever I want.” You say and Johnny only sighs, “Look,” he pauses gathering himself, “We can talk about this at lunch.” You narrow your eyes at him, thinking about it for a moment. “Okay.” you agree, biting the inside of your cheek, leaving the break room before him.

You go to clock in, Still fuming at the interaction earlier, tapping a little louder than usual, So loud it made Simon come out of his office, “You break that you’ll have to buy it.” He says doing weird shoulder exercises. You look up at him, agitation very evident on your face. “Bad day?” he frowns playfully, not pushing any further when you say nothing and go back to work. He only walks back into his office. You wanted to turn around and see if Johnny saw you two.

Who did Johnny think he was? Yeah he and Simon don’t like each other but what does that have to do with you? It’s not like you and Johnny are dating.

Lunch time comes around and you wait for Johnny out front, he was taking forever to clock out. And to your luck, Simon came out. “Hey.” He draws out the Y, You only wave, “Not feeling good?” he asks, reaching into his pocket. You shrug, not wanting to say anything, “You sick?” he questions? “I’m just annoyed.” You huff and he only says “Oh.” You notice the granola bar in hand and he offers it to you and you chuckle at him.

“Pretty boy’s on your nerves?” You shrug again and he smirks, “Don’t start.” A small smile creeping onto your face. “Well I better get going.” he says, grabbing his keys. “Lunch?” you ask, adjusting your coat in hand. “Mhm” he hums, “What are you doing out here?” His brows furrowed in confusion. “Waiting for johnny.”

“How glorious.” He chuckles, “You can always join me if you want.” he offers, smiling smugly. “I’d rather not..” You say and he lets out a laugh at your reaction. You can see Johnny through the glass, “I guess I’m on my way too.” You sigh. “I’ll see you.” he puts his hand out, and you grin slightly, shaking his hand. He walks off and Johnny comes out of the building “you ready.” and you nod, doing your best to avoid the thought of Simon and his offer.

You bet his car probably is clean, and it smells good. He probably likes the cardboard air fresheners, not the ones you stick in the vents. He probably doesn’t let you use the cup holders in his car. Simon. Simon. Simon.

“And that’s what I wanted to tell you.” you look up from your feet. “What?” you say. You weren’t paying attention to what Johnny was saying, you were watching your feet move on the pavement. “I said, I was only feeling a way towards you because of the valentines party, and that’s what I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how.”

“Oh.” you say awkwardly, “Do you not want to be here right now?” Yes. “No, I've been in my head all morning.” You say falsely. “Sorry about the party, I knew I should’ve said something.” you clarify, “I just got caught up.”

“Caught up with Simon.” He snickered. You only roll your eyes at him. “Why does it bother you so much?” you ask, “It’s not like me and you are together.” You point out. “I just don’t like the way he treated you.” he shrugs, “fair.” you agree, “I’ve moved on from it though,” You add.

“I’m allowed to have my feelings.” He says, “Didn’t say you weren’t.” you say sharply, “didn’t say you did.”

You only sigh, “Well I’m sorry you don’t like who I hang out with.” You give a half apology, “Now you guys hang out?” he says, fake shock on his face. “That’s not what I meant,” You roll your eyes playfully. “Sorry for ignoring you.” he chuckles. You both were standing outside of the grocery store, “I’m not really hungry.” you admit. “Do you want something else?”

“I think I’m gonna go back to the office.” you scratch the side of your cheek softly, “Do you want me to go with you?” he asks, “No i’ll be fine.” you assure him.

And you walk alone, back to the office. Maybe Simon was right, Johnny is a bit territorial. What did he get for lunch? And what happened to his shoulder? Simon. Simon. Simon. It was all too overwhelming. You want to go home. You should have taken the offer.

Johnny and you sort of patched things up, but you didn't hear the first half of his speech. Too busy with the other one occupying your mind. The other one. The other one’s probably eating a salad or gnawing on a steak (he’s doordashed one before.). You really wanted to know about that shoulder.

Simon just has something that Johnny’s lacking, character, personality, edge? Maybe.

Yeah Johnny’s a nice guy, he did say he hated the way simon treated you. You hated the way he treated you too. But Simon’s sorry, and he knows he was wrong. He’s holding himself more accountable than you are. Yeah Simon teases him, but that’s their thing, or it was.

You finally get back. Sitting at your desk with your head in your arms, your head was starting to hurt. You can hear a door open and close, footsteps near your desk, hoping it wasn’t Johnny, you look up and see Simon, relief on your face. “What's wrong?” he asks quickly. “Headache.” you state. “You okay?” Concern on his face, “I’ll be okay.” you smile, “Wanna go home?” he asks again.

A lightbulb sparks above your head, This would be the perfect time to head home and avoid Johnny all day. “Will I get in trouble for this?” you ask, squinting, “I’m sending you home, so no. you won’t get fired.” he jokes. “I said, in trouble.” you perk up. “I’m joking.” he assures you.

“Go ahead.” he nods to the door, and you make praying hands to him and he chuckles at your odd behavior.

You gather your things and head home, head pounding from the emotional rollercoaster today.

#supervisor!simon #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost #cod mw2 #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #Simon Riley #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod

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discokicks · 9 months

Text

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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