#tom grant x female reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladyfogg · 2 years

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Windswept - Part 1

Fic Summary: Still getting over his breakup with Ruth, Tom notices a familiar face has returned to Cornwall. Lonely and unable to sleep, he shows up at your trailer late one night. But as eager as you are to have him in your bed, you’re not interested in only being his distraction. (Part 2) Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Tom Grant/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Established Friendship, Unrequited/Unresolved Feelings, Smut, Angst, Unprotected Sex, Oral (female and male receiving) Fluff

Fic Song: Windswept by Moonfall (It’s such a good sad song, highly recommend listening)

A/N: This one is for @delving-verilly. Hope you like it, hun! Also, I needed to give Tom some love because he is absolute boyfriend material and deserves all the good things.

Tom still doesn’t know the full story.

After what went down with Ruth, she never fully explained her actions or feelings. It was hard when she hung around. Seeing her every day and being completely ignored was like salt in the wound. It was like he never existed, like their long relationship never happened. Tom had to put up with it for several months until she and her…girlfriend moved without a word.

It got better when she left. However, it still wasn’t great. He still wasn’t great.

How could he be? The only girl he had ever been with, ever truly loved, betrayed him, and broke his heart. Cornwall is small, the staff filled with regulars. They all know about what happened and any new hires quickly learn about it. Tom can hear them whisper when they see him or see how they stop talking when he enters a room. For years he’d wanted Ruth to join him and once she did, she tainted it.

Tom keeps his head down, does his job, and goes through the motions.

Little by little the hurt lessens, and the anger dissipates. But it never goes away. Not fully. He can’t help but wonder if he could have said something, could have done something, to keep her. Was it him? Did being with him repulse her so much that she needed to run to someone else?

It's that thought that stops him from seeking any sort of physical comfort. There have been women since Ruth, vacationers who’ve shown interest or flirted. He never lets it go further because even though he’s sure it wasn’t his fault, he can never be one-hundred percent positive.

It’s late one night, on one of his bad nights, that these thoughts swim to the surface. The weather’s been cold, so there aren’t any of his usual outdoor activities available to keep his mind occupied. When it’s nice out, he’s able to distract himself with surfing or swimming. But when it’s like this, when he’s forced indoors, he's left alone with his racing thoughts.

Unable to sleep, he heaves himself out of bed and gets dressed. Jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and his gray hoodie are all he puts on to save him from the biting wind. He likes walking on nights like this, likes the chilly air on his face. It helps him feel.

The moon isn’t even out. The park is quiet, with most of the seasonal guests long gone. Only a few full-timers remain. Tom stays because…well, he doesn’t know why he stays, to be honest. What else is he going to do?

He does a full lap around the trailers, head bent against the wind, eyes trained on his shoes. He doesn’t need to look, knows the route by heart after having walked it so many times.

Except, tonight, there’s something different.

He sees a light in the distance. It creeps up on him, illuminating the ground bit by bit as he approaches. It takes a moment for him to register what’s going on. When he does, his head whips up and he stops in his tracks.

The light shines through the window of a trailer that was closed, at least, it had been the day before. He certainly hadn’t prepped it for anyone. There’s a chance someone else did but still, he would have heard about it.

Especially that trailer.

That one is yours. Had been yours. Tom hasn’t seen you in well over a year.

Before he can stop himself, he’s walking quicker, his hands balled into fists inside the pouch of his hoodie. His lungs are on fire from the cold but he doesn’t notice. Walking right up to the door, he raises his hand to knock. Then stops. In his excitement, he almost forgot that there’s a reason you left.

He used to see you every three or so months. You’re a writer and use the quiet of Cornwall to escape and work. It was always a treat, a highlight during his usually monotonous routine. You two would talk for hours, share a drink or a cuppa, and occasionally watch movies.

And you flirted. A lot.

Tom didn’t flirt back of course. He was with Ruth and devoted to her. Blinded by those feelings, he didn’t realize you were developing your own for him until the last time you visited.

You were respectful, never crossed that boundary, but you were honest. You told him how you felt, how you felt romantically towards him. You were also clear that you didn’t expect reciprocation, yet needed to get your feelings off your chest.

Tom played like he was surprised. Looking back on it now, deep down, he wasn’t, had always wondered if there was more to your flirtations. He held steadfast that he only regarded you as a friend, which you understood. It had been awkward, to say the least. After that, you withdrew. The hangouts and movie nights ceased. Eventually, you stopped coming around altogether.

Tom didn’t need an explanation. He could read between the lines. Of course, he had Ruth then so he didn’t dwell too much on it. However, you did cross his mind from time to time. He’d see your books in a shop or someone would visit who reminded him of you and he found himself missing your company.

And now, you’re back.

Tom realizes he has no idea what he’s going to say. What he wants to say. He also realizes it’s incredibly late and, after a moment of consideration, he lowers his hand and turns away. He doesn’t get more than two steps before the door opens.

Spinning back around, he finds you framed in the doorway. “Hi stranger,” you say with a soft smile.

Tom has to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Hiya.”

“What are you doing out in the cold at this time of night?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“So you came to greet little ol’ me?”

“Didn’t know you were back.”

There’s a beat of silence and then you gesture over your shoulder. “I’m making some tea. Come in and warm yourself, silly man.”

The ease of your stance and smile makes it feel like old times. Tom finds himself smiling as well. “Yeah, alright.”

You step away and he walks into the trailer. It’s warm, which means it was prepped for your arrival. That, or maybe Tom is colder than he realizes. He closes the door behind him, watching you move around your kitchen. You must have just arrived because your suitcases are in the living room. A grocery bag sits on the counter, still full.

You reach in and pull out the tea. “You don’t have to stand there, make yourself comfortable.”

Tom walks towards the living room, brushing past you in the process. There’s a brief moment where he can feel the heat from your body and it sends a shudder down his spine.

You shudder too but for a different reason. “Fucking hell, you’re freezing,” you say. “Blankets are in the second bag to the right.”

He sinks onto the couch, grabbing the suitcase and opening it to find your favorite collection of fuzzy blankets. He’d almost forgotten, though he doesn’t know how. Usually, he can find at least two in every room of the trailer. They’re soft and purely for comfort’s sake. He wraps one around himself, discreetly inhaling the scent of detergent and that unique smell that is you. Looking up, he watches you move around the kitchen, unpacking your shopping.

You look good.

It’s so strange to see you after all this time. There are so many of your features he’d started to forget. Or maybe he made himself forget because thinking about your absence hurt too much. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Tom admits as you pull two mugs out of the cabinet.

You quickly rinse them in the sink. “Didn’t know if I was ever going to come back here, to be honest,” you admit. There’s nothing left for you to do except wait for the kettle. You lean against the counter, your fingers drumming on the surface.

“Where’d you go?”

“Home. Some book tours here or there but mostly stayed put.” You’re studying him as much as he’s studying you.

He wishes he could hear what you’re thinking. Your expression is calm yet your body language is tense. Normally when you returned, you would be spouting off stories about your travels or asking him what he’s been up to. He’s not used to this quiet version of you.

“Why come back now?” he asks.

“My agent doesn’t like my new stuff. Says it’s missing my old flair. Sadly, she’s right. I always wrote better when I was here.”

Tom is surprised when his heart sinks. A part of him selfishly thought you’d returned for him. It’s a cruel thing to wish for, especially since he had made it clear that he only considered you a friend, that his relationship with Ruth was important.

Seems like a bad joke the universe played on him. Push away the girl who shared her feelings while holding onto the one who didn’t.

“Shirley didn’t tell me you were coming back,” he says, hands curled around the edges of the blanket to hold it closed. He’s warmed up some yet the chill persists. Though, he’s not sure the weather is the cause anymore.

“I asked her not to.”

“Why?”

“You know why. Do I have to say it?”

Tom is spared from answering when the kettle whistles. You turn your back, busying yourself with making the tea. He notices you pour his into the mug he always favored, preparing his cuppa exactly how he likes it. Even after all this time away, you remember.

When you’re done, you carry both cups over to the couch and hand him his. He takes it graciously, the heat instantly warming his freezing hands. You don’t sit next to him on the couch like you normally would. Instead, you choose the armchair, tucking your bare feet underneath you.

“I’m sorry about Ruth.”

Tom averts his gaze and stares at the floor. So you do know. “Who told you?”

“Shirley, about twenty minutes ago. We don’t have to talk about it. I just…I wanted to say something. I know you loved her.”

“Yeah, I did.” Tom takes a sip of tea, not even caring that it burns his tongue. He welcomes the flash of pain.

You two fall into silence, quietly sipping your tea as tension hangs in the air. He hates it. Being around you used to relax him and bring him comfort. Now, it’s like neither of you knows what to say or how to act with each other anymore. When Tom looks up at you, you’re staring out the dark window. He studies your face, even though he’s seen it hundreds of times before, admired it even. You were always full of energy and humor. He remembers the laughing fits you two would have after the other said something ridiculous. He remembers how your face used to light up.

Now it’s stoic and pensive. Did he do that too? Did his rejection take your laughter and brightness away? Was that his curse? To take a lively woman and turn her against himself?

No, he can’t think like that. Won’t think like that. Not about you.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to come back,” you say, more to yourself than to him. “Up until two days ago, I almost canceled.”

Tom processes your words, running his thumb along the handle of the mug clutched tight in his hands. “Why did you decide to come?”

“I missed this place,” you admit. “I missed the ocean, the quiet nights. I missed…I missed a lot of things about it.” You trail off, sipping your tea.

“Me?” he asks with a small smile.

You smirk and glance over at him. “Mighty presumptuous of you,” you tease.

“We were friends.”

“We still are, Tom. I never stopped being your friend.”

“But you stopped coming around. Never called or texted either.”

“I wasn’t doing myself any favors. And you made it perfectly clear where we stood. I figured distance would be best, for my own sake.”

“And was it?”

You finally turn away from the window to give him your full attention. “No. It didn’t make a difference.”

Silence washes over you once more as you drink your tea. Tom has no words, isn’t sure what to say to that. Does that mean you still have feelings for him? If so, he’s not sure how he feels about them anymore. How he feels about you. Everything is so different now. All he thought and knew had been a lie and now he’s left hollow and empty, a shell of his former self. How can you love a shell? Does he even want you to care enough to try? When you finish, you get up and take both empty cups to the sink.

Tom needs to leave. He needs to be alone with his thoughts. Everything is a jumbled mess and he’s starting to get a headache. Reluctantly, he stands, letting the blanket fall to the couch. “It’s late, I should let you get some rest.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty exhausted. We can catch up tomorrow or later in the week.” You’re washing the mugs, eyes trained on what you’re doing.

When Tom goes to slip by you, he feels that heat again and it stops him in his tracks. Like a moth to a flame, he steps closer. Unable to help himself, he turns his body towards yours. His arm slides around your waist and he presses himself against your back in what starts as a hug.

You instantly freeze, hands pausing their work. A moment later, you melt, leaning back into his embrace. The tension leaves your shoulders and you hum with satisfaction. Tom kisses the top of your head, closing his eyes and savoring the closeness. It’s been long, so long since he’s touched someone, been touched. And now that it’s you, a whole smattering of feelings and thoughts come crawling to the surface.

You turn off the sink, absentmindedly drying your hands on the nearby dish towel. When you turn around to face him, Tom cups your cheek and kisses you.

It’s impulsive, not something he is planning or even thinking about until the moment your lips are within reach. Your gasp in surprise and he takes advantage, slips his tongue past yours to lick at the inside of your mouth. He thought he’d be clumsy and out of practice but he’s not. The more he kisses you, the better he feels, and the easier it is to lose himself in your lips. You wrap your arm around his neck, your body yielding to his touch as he traps you between himself and the counter.

Desire twists his gut and makes his stomach fall through the floor. It’s like kissing you hits a giant reset button and he’s bombarded with a slew of sensations he can’t identify or process. At least not right now, not when he has you in his arms and you’re so fucking warm, and soft, and responsive…

Tom breaks the kiss to catch his breath, opening his eyes to find yours already watching him. Your chest heaves as you pant, and it’s then that he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. He can see your nipples through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and it does things to him, makes him want to touch and grope. His cock is already straining in his jeans and he knows you can feel it press into your thigh.

You open your mouth to speak but he silences you with another kiss, harsher and rougher, this time both hands cradling your face. A moan escapes and the sound makes him feral, fuels the raging inferno inside that wants to consume. He kisses you harder and slides both arms around your waist so you can barely move.

“Tom,” you manage to whisper.

He says your name back, deepening the kiss, leaning the full weight of his body against yours so you can feel all of him, feel what you’re doing to him. His hands seek the hem of your shirt, gliding underneath, desperate to feel your skin under his palms. The brief touch alone is enough to send sparks through his veins.

There’s suddenly a hand on his chest and you push him back, breaking the kiss and all contact. You’re panting, your lips glistening from his kisses. He knows you want him, can see that your pupils are dilated. He can still hear your moan echoing in his mind. He wants you too, wants to lose himself in your arms and bed.

“Tom, what are you doing?”

That’s not what he’s prepared to hear and he blinks at you in confusion. “Thought it was obvious,” he says. “I’m kissing you.”

He tries to step forward but your hand is persistent, keeping him right where he is. “Don’t,” you say, your voice dropping low and your eyes pleading with him. “Don’t do this. Not right now.”

It’s like someone douses him with ice-cold water. Every feeling and racing thought stops dead in its tracks. “What’s wrong?” he asks, wrapping his hand around yours. “Do you not want this?” He felt you kiss him back, felt the way your body molded to his. He knows you enjoyed it. At least he thinks you enjoyed it. Those anxieties start to creep back.

“Not if it’s just to make you feel something. Not if it’s just a distraction.”

The air is sucked from his lungs and he just stands there, staring at you while he takes in your words. Is that what he’s doing? He didn’t think he was. He was just reacting to what his body wants. And right now, it wants you like he’s never wanted you before. Never wanted anyone before he dares to think.

Tom tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. He says your name, gently holding the hand that’s pressed to his chest. Once again, he makes a move to step forward and once again you stop him.

“Go home,” you say in a gentle voice, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “We can talk more later.”

As if in a daze, Tom finds himself leaving your trailer. Once he’s in the cold, he lets out a shaking breath. Steps hurried, he heads to his own trailer, his mind replaying the kiss over and over again. He’s frozen by the time he gets home. Inside does not offer the same warmth you provided. He strips down and climbs into the shower, turning the hot water on full blast.

Tom sticks his head under the spray of the water, letting the heat soothe his tense shoulders and finally chase away the chill for good. Bloody hell, why did he kiss you like that? He didn’t even ask, he just did it without thinking of the consequences. Yet, you kissed him back. You may have stopped him from touching you but you absolutely responded to his mouth. He can still picture it, still feel what it was like to have your body along his.

His cock gives a persistent twitch, reminding him that he’s still very much aroused.

Without a second thought, he wraps his hand around himself and starts to jerk off. With one hand pressed against the shower wall, he closes his eyes and thinks of you. Of your mouth, your taste, your body pressed to his…all of the little details come flooding back and he bites his lip, desperately wishing it was your hand touching him. He pictures you there with him, naked and dripping wet from the shower, your mouth glued to his as you get him off.

Would you tease him? Would you keep him on the edge, backing off with that smirk of yours as he rolls his hips into your palm?

Other images come to mind, hazy memories throughout the years that he kept locked away. You, in your bathing suit, laying out on the hot sand with your notebook, your lips wrapped around the pencil as you lost yourself in your thought. The way that bathing suit hugged your frame, he couldn’t help staring as he ran by with his surfboard.

Or when the both of you were on his couch, trying to find something to watch. You’d gotten annoyed at him for flipping through the channels and had tried to steal the remote. He had laughed, and held it out of reach, secretly loving the way your solid frame leaned across his to try and grab it.

It’s like he’s flipped a switch and his brain won’t flip it off. Every smile, every brush of your hand, every hug, every lingering look…

He comes with a strangled moan and your name on his tongue.

That tension dissipates and leaves his body shaking and boneless. Tom slumps forward, letting his forehead rest against the tiled wall. The shower washes his cum away and he watches it go down the drain. He’s confused and ashamed. Is he this lonely that he’s reaching out to the first person he feels some kind of attraction to? Or has he always been attracted to you and is now able to act on it? What if it’s the first? He can’t do that to you, especially knowing how you feel about him.

Tom’s aware that he shouldn’t have kissed you. It’s not fair for him to use you this way. Even though that was the best kiss he’s ever fucking had.

Swearing at himself, he turns off the shower and gets out. He dries himself with a towel, then leaves it on the floor as he falls naked into bed, face-first in his pillow. “Right mess you’ve made of this, mate,” he tells himself.

It’s late and he’s tired. He needs sleep. Hopefully, he’ll feel better in the morning.

Yanking up the comforter, Tom bundles himself with it, wishing it was one of your blankets. For the first time in months, he has a dreamless sleep. When he wakes up the next morning, he’s in the same spot where he fell. Rubbing his eyes, he extracts himself from the warm cocoon of his comforter and reaches for his phone to check the time. Shite, he’s gonna be late.

Bolting out of bed, he throws on his uniform, brushes his teeth, and runs his hand through his hair in a vain attempt to control the curls. Having zero time to mess with it, he deems it good enough and hurries out the door.

Only to run smack dab into you. Instinctively, he reaches out to catch you, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” you ask.

Seeing you here in the light of day reminds him that the night before wasn’t a dream. You’re really here and somehow in his arms again. Your hands are pressed to his chest and it makes him suck in a deep breath.

“Sorry, running late,” he says, though makes no move to let you go.

“Then I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” He tells himself to let you go yet it’s so hard.

You break away first, clearing your throat as you put distance between you. “About last night…”

“I’m sorry, I can’t…I want to talk but I have to go.”

“Right, of course. You definitely just said you’re running late. Sorry. Don’t let me stand in the way.”

Tom shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for you like he wants to. He turns and starts to walk away when he has a thought. He turns around to face you. “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” he asks before losing his nerve.

Your eyes light up and you try to hold back your smile but he can still see it. “Yes. I’d love that.”

“Great.” Tom smiles, walking backward. “Around five?”

“I’ll bring the dessert.”

He’s about a second away from telling you that you are the dessert, yet he’s already made things awkward he’s not going to screw up again. Instead, he gives you a wave and turns back around.

It’s like a weight lifts from his chest and he can’t help smiling to himself.

Aside from being a few minutes late, the rest of his day is fairly uneventful. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little distracted. His mind can’t help but wander, thoughts consumed by you and you alone. He swears he can feel your lips still touching his and he catches himself standing there, unmoving, his mind racing with those run-away thoughts. He ends up calling it a day nearly thirty minutes early because he’s far too out of it to be any useful.

When he gets back to his trailer, he looks around and realizes it’s a disaster. It’s been some time since anyone has been over. He’s suddenly glad he left early because it gives him time to straighten up. Hurrying around, he gathers the scattered laundry, shoving it into the hamper.

Any trash goes in the bin and dishes in the sink. While he boils water for the spaghetti, he washes as many of them as he can, cursing himself for inviting you over when the place is an absolute mess.

A moment later, he realizes that he’s still wearing his uniform and his hair is all over the place. No, that’s not going to do. He wants this to be a date, is already thinking of it as one, and he’s not going to have his first date with you looking like this. He runs to the bedroom, opening the closet and swearing when nothing is hanging. Bloody fucking hell.

There’s a knock on the trailer door and he runs back, only to find the pot of water is boiling over. “Shit, shit, shit!”

The door opens and you poke your head in. “Everything alright in here?”

“Yeah, just making a right mess of everything.” He tries to take the pot off the stove and burns himself in the process. “Ow! Fuck!”

“Oi, move.” You sweep past him, plucking the dishrag off the counter and using it to help you grab the pot’s handle. After moving it to another burner, you turn to face it. “How bad is it?”

Tom’s hand is red but otherwise alright. Still, he lets you gently take it, relishing the brief contact of your skin touching his. “I’m all over the place,” he says, trying to clear his suddenly dry throat. Having you so close is making him dizzy.

“That’s alright. We’ll get you all sorted out.” You bend your head and lay a gentle kiss on the burn before releasing his hand. “There, all better.”

Tom smiles, taking in how close you’re standing and thinking how much he wants to close that remaining distance. His eyes stray to your lips but then you’re turning away towards the stove.

“Why don’t I get this going while you change your shirt? You got water down your front.”

Tom looks down and sure enough, there’s a large wet stain from when he rushed to wash dishes. Mentally, he calls himself every name he can think of as he heads to the bedroom. “Right, be back in a second.”

He kicks the door closed and then yanks off his shirt, digging through his drawers for something, anything that’s wearable. Thankfully there is one white T-shirt left. Not the best for eating spaghetti but it’ll have to do. In the bathroom, he attempts to push his hair back and does a quick check to make sure he’s somewhat presentable.

When he steps back into the kitchen, you have the noodles boiling in one pot and are pouring tomato sauce in another to heat it.

Tom leans against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you cook in his kitchen like you’ve done countless times before. This time it’s different. You’re both different.

You glance up and catch him staring. “What are you smiling about?”

“I’ve missed you.” Tom doesn’t think it’s too forward to say. After all, it’s the truth.

“I’ve missed you too.”

You teased him about it last night but it makes his smile wider when he hears you say it. He wanders over, noticing for the first time that you brought a dish covered with foil. “What’s that?” he asks.

“Blueberry pie. Had a scene that was giving me trouble so decided to make some dough to clear my head.”

“Ah, so you were procrastinating and used tonight as an excuse not to write.”

Hiding a smirk you glance over at him. “You don’t know me.”

He chuckles. “I know you very well, actually.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you know about me?”

“You’re smart, good for a laugh,” he lists, eyes taking you in. You’re dressed in jeans and a warm jumper, though you’ve already kicked your shoes off into a corner somewhere with your socks. “You like to make yourself comfortable whenever possible. When you concentrate you get that funny little crease between your eyebrows.” He reaches out to poke the wrinkle on your forehead. “What’s got you so lost in thought, hm?”

“You were always far too perceptive for your own good.”

“Except when it counted.” He doesn’t mean to say it out loud yet once he does, he can’t take it back. Damn it, can he not go for a whole day without his brain betraying him, bringing up Ruth?

You stop stirring, turning your head to look at him. “You cannot possibly be blaming yourself for what happened.”

Tom busies himself to avoid your gaze and your question. He grabs several of the dishes he just washed and brings them over to the table. “Sorry, didn’t mean to say that. I can’t seem to say the right thing around you lately, can I?”

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”

Tom opens his mouth to play it off, to tell you he’s fine. However, when he looks up and meets your eye, his resolve wavers, and that protective shell he’s been trying to build for months crumbles.

“She never told me what happened, why she did what she did,” he says, leaning on one of the kitchen chairs. “Guess I can’t help wondering if there was something I could have done differently.”

You step away from the stove and come up to him. “Look, I don’t have the whole story, only what Shirley could get out while giving me my keys. But from what I heard, it doesn’t sound like it was your fault.”

“We’ll never know, now will we?”

“Probably not,” you agree. “And that sucks. It really does. But it will get better, Tom. I’m sure it doesn’t feel like it, but it will.” So many people have told him that. Yet, he believes it coming from you. Always able to read him so well, you drop the conversation and return to the stove. “Spaghetti should be done soon.”

Tom finishes setting the table and gets you both a beer while you serve dinner. The quiet domesticity of it is not lost on him. He relishes it and enjoys every moment. When he sits down across from you, he can’t help smiling. He lifts his beer. Chuckling, you pick up your bottle as well.

“What are we toasting?” you ask.

“To old friends,” Tom says. “And new beginnings.”

“Is this a new beginning?”

“I’d like it to be.”

You study him for a moment and then tap your bottle to his. “A new beginning then.”

It’s the most enjoyable meal he’s had in a long time. You two spend the time catching up, swapping stories, and updates. You tell him everything you’ve been up to since you left, from the new books you wrote to the places you’ve seen. Tom smiles and laughs so much that his face hurts. He forgot that he likes this, likes being in your presence.

The trailer feels warmer and brighter with you here.

The next thing he knows, it’s hours later and you two are still at the table, spaghetti long since cleared and a half-eaten blueberry pie sitting between you, as well as empty mugs that once held tea.

Tom doesn’t even know what time it is, doesn’t care since tomorrow is his day off. Though, even if he did have to work, he still wouldn’t have cared. It's the first time in a long while that he’s allowed himself to let go. To feel and stay in the moment. And how fitting that it’s with you.

Then again, you’ve always had that effect on him.

“It’s late,” you say after glancing at your phone. “Damn, I didn’t realize how much I’ve been talking.”

“You also ate a fair bit,” he teases.

You flip him the bird. “Very funny.” Tom laughs and it makes your smile wider. “I’ve missed that sound.”

Just like that, the mood shifts. Tom’s hands become clammy and he fiddles with his mug. “About last night,” he says. He’s been avoiding the topic, not wanting to spoil the mood. However, it’s something that needs to be discussed. “I’m sorry.”

It’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. The way you purse your lips leads him to believe he’s struck a nerve. “It’s fine,” you say with a wave of your hand, eyes downcast. “I know you didn’t mean it.” You’re hurt yet playing it off.

Tom hurries to explain himself. “I never said that.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his. “What?”

“I never said I didn’t mean it. I’m not sorry that I kissed you. I’m sorry for not asking you first.”

He sees your lips part as you inhale and the urge to reach across the table is strong. “Well, I did mean what I said,” you tell him. “I’m not willing to be a distraction or a stand-in for someone else.”

“You never have been and never will be.”

Tom’s thoughts are a jumble. It feels like they’re stumbling over each other, making it difficult for him to decide what he wants to say next. Tentatively, he reaches across the table and holds out his hand. You stare at it for a moment, before laying your palm on his. His long fingers curl around yours.

When he says your name, it’s loaded with emotion. “I had a lot of time to think about that kiss,” he says. “Well, kisses, technically. And do you want to know what happened when I did?”

You nod.

“I lost myself in the memory. When I left your place last night, I couldn’t think of anything else. Kissing you felt like coming home after a long journey.”

“Tom…”

“Wait, wait, just…just let me finish,” he pleads. When you don’t say anything, he keeps going. “I didn’t notice until you left how much you were a part of my life. I loved the time we spent together. Looking back now, I can see it’s because everything is so easy around you. This friendship and these feelings, they’re not messy and complicated. They’re clear and powerful, and nothing I’ve ever experienced with anyone else. No one. Just you.”

Your bottom lip disappears under your top teeth and it conjures all sorts of images in Tom’s mind.

“Maybe it comes too late,” he continues. “But, if what you said last night is true, if your feelings haven’t changed, could we, maybe, give this a go? See where it takes us?”

“Is that what you really want?” Your voice is hopeful, though your expression is oddly schooled like you are afraid to believe what he’s saying, afraid to wear your emotions on your sleeve as you’ve done in the past.

Tom nods. “Yeah, I do.”

You abruptly stand, pushing your chair back so it scrapes against the floor. Tom sits back as well but before he can stand, you’re taking his face in your hands and kissing the life out of him.

With a moan, Tom yanks you onto his lap. You straddle him and his arms slide around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Bloody fucking hell his memories from last night don’t do it justice. Especially when you’re the one taking the lead, the one slipping your tongue past his lips and moaning as his hands slide down to grab your arse.

He hardens instantly and there’s no hiding it, not when your core is right there, grinding down on his bulge. He wishes neither of you was wearing jeans yet is too focused on your mouth to do anything about it. At least at first.

You draw back to catch your breath, but Tom doesn’t let you get far. He cups the back of your neck, holding you close as he gives an experimental thrust upward. You gasp and he swallows the sound, mouth hungrily searching yours.

“Tom, wait.” You’re breathless when you lean back to look him in the eye. “Are you sure?”

Tom nods without hesitation. “Yes, yes, I’m sure.”

You smile and he briefly loses control, yanking you into a harsh kiss in his excitement. Everything feels good, so bloody good, but also right. This, being here with you, it feels like it’s supposed to be this way. He’s aware there’s still a lot to talk about. Yet, he’s not worried. He knows you two will get there. He’s not going to concern himself about it right now. He’s going to stay in the moment and focus all his attention on making you feel as good as he possibly can.

Evidently, you have your own plan in mind because you reach between you to undo the button of his jeans. Your kiss is broken when you slide onto the floor between his knees.

Tom swallows thickly, lifting his hips to help you drag down his jeans and boxers. His cock springs free, the tip red and already beaded with precum. Your tongue darts out to lick it away and he sucks in a breath at the visual. When your lips wrap around his swollen head, he lets out a smattering of curses. Automatically, his hand reaches for your head, as if to direct you but he stops himself at the last minute and lets it drop to his side.

You catch the movement out of the corner of your eye. Pulling off with a lewd pop, you grin up at him. “It’s alright, babe. You can put your hand on my head.”

Tom doesn’t need to be told twice, especially when you take him into your mouth like that and slowly inch your way down his pulsing shaft. His hands immediately come to rest on your head and he pushes you down while he gives a small thrust up.

He feels your throat constrict around his tip and it rips a moan out of him. You glide back up, coating him in your saliva before taking him in again, this time with his help. It only takes one or two more times for you to manage to take him all, and when you do, he holds you there for a second, savoring the way you swallow around him.

After that, you’re back in control, bobbing your head up and down on his lap, taking him as far as you can every single time.

Tom drags his eyes open, head thrown back from the Incredible pleasure. When he looks down at you, you’re already staring up at him and the visual knocks the breath from his lungs.

You pull off with a gasp, your hand wrapping around his cock and stroking him while you catch your breath. Your thumb swipes at the string of spit and precum connecting your wet bottom lip to the head of his cock before your tongue darts out to clean it away.

“Fuck!” Tom swears. “I’m not going to last long if you look up at me like that.”

Smirking, you continue to stroke him with your hand while your mouth starts to suck at his quivering thighs. He knows he’ll have marks in the morning and that only makes him groan louder.

“I’m sure I can draw this out for you,” you pant, letting your lips run up and down along his shaft before your tongue takes a bold lick. “If you want me to.”

Tom is torn. Part of him wants to grab your head again and thrust himself down your throat until you gag. The other part wants to tear your clothes off, to get you naked so he can touch and taste…

You don’t give him a chance to decide. As if reading his mind, you take him into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough for him to see stars. His hips are constantly jerking now. His hands grip your head and he lets go, lets you take the reins because right now he’d probably die if you stopped.

Tom feels himself getting close, feels the way his balls draw up and the pleasure reaches its crescendo.

He comes in your mouth, lost in the way he coats your tongue and makes your movements slicker, stickier. You keep going, keeping sucking him down until he relaxes in the chair, panting like he’s just run a marathon. When you pull off, he opens his eyes in time to watch you swallow.

Head pillowed on his lap, face inches from his softening cock you smirk. “You doing alright there, love?”

He doesn’t answer, has no words at the moment. All he does is grin and reach for your arms, pulling you up as he stands. His legs are wobbly and you both stumble, bursting into a fit of giggles even as he kisses you. He doesn’t care that he can taste himself, he just wants to feel your mouth on his.

Stepping out of his jeans, tripping a little over his shoes, he pulls you towards the bedroom. You follow, your lips never leaving his until he bumps into the door.

“Careful!” you laugh. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’d have a fun time trying to explain that injury.”

You grab the hem of his shirt and help him pull it off. Now he’s completely naked while you’re fully dressed. That won’t do. He needs to see your body, to touch and taste as much of it as he can. He reaches for your jeans and you stop him.

For a brief moment, doubt creeps in and he has the mental image of someone else stopping him, someone else excusing herself right when they get started.

That goes away when you force him to sit on the bed, giving him a quick kiss before stepping back. You’re not leaving, you’re teasing, and that grabs his attention away from the painful memory. You grab the hem of your jumper and pull it off, showing him the lacy black bra underneath.

Tom nearly swallows his tongue. When you wiggle your jeans down your hips, he catches sight of matching knickers and realizes, you’ve thought of this. Even though you weren’t sure of his feelings or intentions, you still wore something sexy for him. Just in case.

He can’t keep his hands to himself. Pulling you forward, he drags you onto his lap again, mouth hungrily devouring yours. The need to touch and explore overrides everything else and Tom carefully turns the both of you until you’re lying on the bed, underneath him.

When he draws back, the loving look you give him is like a punch to the gut. No one’s ever looked at him the way you are now. You reach up to run your hands through his curls and he snags your wrist, placing feather-light kisses there, then along your arm, in the crook of your elbow, up to your shoulder, and then ultimately to your neck where he wraps his lips around a spot and sucks greedily.

Your gasp turns into a moan as his hand cups your breast. The black lace is scratchy against his palm so he tugs it down, needs to feel skin-on-skin while he feasts on your throat. Your back arches, bringing your breast right into his eager hand. He thumbs your nipple, tweaking and teasing it until it becomes stiff.

Tom leaves your neck, bending his head to take the now hard nub between his lips. He flicks his tongue over it once, twice, then swirls in slow circles. You moan, hands burying themselves in his hair, now unruly from your fingers. He tugs down the other bra cup, switching his mouth to that nipple while his hand continues to squeeze and knead the other.

When he draws back to look at you, your pupils are dilated and it takes him right back to those feelings that surfaced yesterday in your kitchen. Except for this time, he knows what they are and can’t wait to explore them.

You sit up just enough to unhook your bra and toss it aside. Tom lays gentle kisses from one breast to the other, giving them a final appreciative squeeze as he starts to descend your body. Tongue and lips leave a visible trail of kisses while his hands, so eager, run down to grip your thighs. He wants you to know where he’s headed, what he wants to do to you, to give you the chance to stop him.

You don’t. You urge him on. “Tom, please, touch me,” you say breathlessly, biting your lip as his tongue briefly teases your belly button.

“Can I taste you instead?”

You suck in a breath and he looks up at you, waiting for the nod of approval before hooking his fingers under your knickers. He draws back, pulling them down and eventually off, finally leaving you completely naked beneath him.

His imagination failed him. You’re gorgeous and nothing could have prepared him for the way his heart races when he finally sees all of you.

His hands slip under your knees so he can spread your legs open. You’re so wet and glistening for him and he hasn’t even properly touched you yet. The realization that he’s the one to do this to you, the one to make you aroused from only kissing and groping, does something to him.

All that self-doubt, all that worry, and concern about himself disappears. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong.

He slides down the bed, lifting your legs over his shoulders in the process. At the first swipe of his tongue, your body jerks in surprise, only to relax into the mattress. Your taste lacks comparison. The heady, unique flavor quickly becomes his favorite the more he laps at you. With his thumb, he gently rubs a circle around your nub, emboldened by the way you moan his name.

He loves the way it sounds coming from you. His name has never been sweeter.

Tom wraps his lips around that sensitive spot and sucks, having to take hold of your thighs to keep your hips from jerking off the bed. Your fingers pull on his curls when they tighten their grip and it lets him know he’s doing good, giving you what you like.

He loses himself, his lips and tongue in a constant state of movement, swiping, teasing, flicking, stroking, over and over again until sweat breaks out across your body. Your thighs trap his head but he’s too busy to notice.

When he slips his tongue inside you, he can feel your body clench and it makes his cock start to swell. Imagining what that will be like, he moans himself and notices that you gasp when he does. So, he does is a second and third, until he's humming and tasting, wringing an orgasm out of your shuddering, constantly moving body. Eventually, his mouth returns to your nub. He slides two fingers into you, moaning when your walls cling to them. Rubbing and crooking them just the right way causes swears to tumble from your lips.

Your voice calls out to him in warning but he doesn’t let up. It only urges him on, makes him suck, and rub hard until your body is convulsing underneath him. Seconds later, you go limp, your chest heaving.

Tom’s panting when he pushes your legs off his sweaty shoulders, sitting back on his heels to look down at you. You look more beautiful than ever. The post-orgasmic smile that graces your features makes his heart threaten to burst from his chest.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hands, he crawls up over you. You reach up to pull him down, touching your two naked bodies together for the first time.

Tom moans, stealing another kiss. Your hands run up and down his back, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your body shudders and he briefly notices the coolness of the room. Blindly, he feels around for the comforter and draws it up to cover you both. The action breaks the kiss and allows you to speak.

“Make love to me, Tom,” you beg, your forehead pressed to his.

He shifts and presses his cock to your core, lightly grinding so his length drags through your wetness. He’s now slick with you and the thought is too much to handle. Part of him wants to take things slow and savor, yet another part, a part he’s silenced for a long time, wants him to go for it, to take you and make you his.

Tom cups your cheek and draws his head back so you’re eye to eye when he pushes into you for the first time. He gets to see the way your eyes widen before fluttering closed and hears your sudden inhale of breath as you throw your head back into his pillow. And when he’s buried to the hilt, filling you completely, he says your name, whispers it like a prayer.

Despite his hormones urging for more, he takes you slowly. He’s not in any rush. Why would he be? Everything he wants is right in his arms. The world outside his trailer no longer exists.

You are his world.

Your legs wrap around his waist and you pull him in each time he draws out, making sure he buries himself with every thrust. Your mouths cannot break away from each other. Over time, the energy in the room shifts. Gentle, lazy kisses start to turn, become eager, biting, hungry.

Tom starts to move quicker, deepening his thrusts until he’s grinding into your pulsing heat. Good god, he can feel you clench so much better than he could with his tongue or fingers. It’s like you’re squeezing the life from him and he doesn’t care in the slightest. He wishes for it, wants your body to clench his cock so tight it leaves an imprint of himself inside you. He’s well aware that’s not how that works but it doesn’t stop him from wanting it. Your heels dig into his backside, spurring him on.

Tom’s mouth seeks your throat, kissing and sucking as the mattress groans along with you. He wishes this could last forever, that he could stay inside you until the end of time. His body is shaking from exhaustion, aching, and trembling after being disused for so long. But he can’t stop, won’t stop until he makes sure you cum. He did it once, he can do it again. Needs to do it. Needs to feel it around his aching cock.

Needs one more reminder that he’s the reason you’re coming undone.

His hand pushes down under the blanket, gliding along the swell of your hip, then slipping between your grinding bodies. His thumb finds your oversensitive nub and you cry out at the first swipe.

“Tom! Tom, I’m close, so close. Please, more. Give me more!”

His thrusts aren’t gentle anymore, haven’t been ever since he started climbing his own peak. A few more sloppy rubs and you’re cresting that hill for a second time, your tight cunt clamping down on him and sending him toppling over the edge as he comes inside you.

Even then, he keeps going, his mouth seeking yours as he fucks himself through his release. This is nirvana, this is his happy place. He knows he’s done for. All those crystal clear feelings couldn’t be more front and center than they are now. He loves you. Most likely, part of him has always loved you yet he was blind to it. Until now.

He makes a silent vow that he won’t be blind to you ever again.

You both collapse in a sweaty, panting heap.

Your hand hasn’t stopped stroking his back and as he comes back to himself, he finds your other hand running through his curls. His cheek is pressed just above your breast, hot breath ghosting across your skin.

“That was…” When you trail off, he pushes his head up to look at you. “Tom, that was…” His smile falters as that sliver of fear comes back for just a second. “Fuck, I’ve never been made love to like that before.”

And just like that, the fear goes away. “Yeah?” Tom asks, a smile spreading across his face.

You nod, cupping his face so you can drag him into a kiss. “Yes. You blew my fucking mind.”

Tom deepens the kiss, his thumb stroking your cheek. He feels himself slip out of you and his heart slams against his ribcage when you whimper at the loss. He rolls onto his side, bringing you with him so you’re face to face, limbs tangled together.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “Bloody hell, the way you make me feel.”

You kiss him once, twice, then a third before finally laying your head on the pillow. “Now you know how I’ve been feeling all this time.”

If this is what you’ve been feeling, he could kick himself for waiting as long as he had.

“What happens now?” he asks, afraid of the answer yet needing it all the same.

You trail your fingers up and down his arm, making him shudder. “Now, we sleep. And tomorrow, we’ll wake up, have breakfast, have sex again, then I’ll get some writing done and you lay here naked, distracting me from said writing.”

Tom grins, biting his lip in excitement. “I think I can do that,” he says, pulling you close. “What about after tomorrow?”

“Whatever we want, Tom. The world is ours for the taking.”

“Think I might like to travel some.”

“Well, if I finish this book, there’ll be a tour. I’d love for you to join me.”

“What’s the book about?”

“A woman goes on holiday and meets a handsome handyman who is as beautiful inside as he is out. He’s kind, funny, smart, carrying…everything she could ever want and she falls in love fast. He doesn’t right away but, eventually, he comes around.”

Tom’s heart flutters and his nose brushes yours as he nuzzles your face. “How does it end?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe you can help me figure it out.”

“I think the man falls in love with the woman. Or at the very least, he realizes part of him always loved her. Then I think he asks her to show him the world. Maybe they marry and have a couple of kids. Though that might be too cheesy.”

“I think it’s perfect. He’s allowed his happily ever after just as she is.”

Tom smiles at you and leans in for another kiss. “As long as they’re together, he couldn’t be happier.”

#tom grant #tom make up #joseph quinn #joe quinn #joe quinn make up #joseph quinn make up #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant x female reader

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littlelioncub43 · 11 months

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imagine going out for date night with tom grant… but he cant wait until he gets you home, so he pulls the car over to fill you up. better sit still on the way back so you don't spill any of his dessert.

Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnng 😩

He a horny little slut.

"C'mere, love," Tom whispers hotly against your kiss-swollen lips, his hands already tugging you across the center console and into his lap.

"What're you up to, Tommy?" You chuckle and crawl over the console. The small car was awkward and cramped, making you both snort in a fit of lustful giggles as you fought with the strap of Tom's seatbelt.

"Just want my girl, that a crime?" He mumbles as you finally settle into place, his lips attacking yours once more before you can tell him that public indecency was, in fact, a crime. The thought quickly leaves you when you feel his hands massage the flesh of your thighs under your dress, but he's pulling back just as fast as he was on you. "Wait, hang on..."

"Oop!" You exclaim in surprise when he, with some struggle, fully reclines the driver's seat with a triumphant grin, the moonlight from the sky dimly illuminating his (quite unfairly) gorgeous face. You giggle at him, loving the way amusement and love seem to pour out of his big brown eyes.

"There, we go, much better," he groans as he lays nearly horizontal, his hands pulling you down to him, "now, c'mere."

The kiss is a mix of tongue and teeth, smiles and moans, a desperate bid to completely devour each other as gently as humanly possible. The throbbing between your legs grows nearly unbearable each time Tom groans, the deep, throaty sounds that vibrate against your ribcage sends shivers up your spine.

Rolling your hips was second nature, the hardness at the front of Tom's "date night jeans" was too enticing to ignore for too long. The relief you feel from the seam of his trousers pulls a thin moan from you, the sound immediately swallowed by Tom.

"Fuck, don't you sound pretty," he mutters through heaving breaths, lifting his hips to match your pace, his mouth now leaving a trail of sloppy kisses and lovebites along the slope of your neckwhile his hands grope your flesh greedily.

"Tommy," you moan into the dark car and grind into him harder, your hands threading through his hair to massage his scalp the way he likes, the way that makes him needy.

"F-Fuck me, darling, h-haa," he moans when your fingers grip his hair at the nape of his neck in a firm hold. "Need you," he whispers into the skin of your neck, "gonna let me have you, darling? Hm? Please?"

The gentle begging really does it for you, Tom knows it. He loves the way you squirm when he asks for your permission to fuck you, the way your thighs tighten around his waist to try relieve the pressure between them; plus he just loves asking. Consent is sexy.

"Yeah, Tommy, you can have me," you agree almost instantly. Tom groans happily and gives your lips a loving kiss. Absolutely filthy, but still loving.

"Thank you, lovie, thank you," he pants as he works on unbuckling his trousers, his hands undoing the buttons of his jeans as fast as he can. A pleased sigh floats from his lips when his cock is released from the confines of his boxers. You barely get a glimpse of it before he's pulling you closer and draping the fabric of your dress out of his way.

"O-Oh, fuck," you moan when his fingers slide the gusset of your soaked panties to the side, the rough pads of his index and middle finger glide through the wetness that pours from your cunt. The pleasure builds steadily as he caresses you, eyes sliding shut, overcome by the steady waves of euphoria that roll upon you.

"God, you're so wet," Tom muses to himself, his fingers petting the soft, wet petals of your pussy until he dips them into you. His eyes stay fixed on your face, watching in rapture as you bask in the pleasure he gives you. The stretch of his fingers sends your hips into motion, each pump of his thick fingers has you grinding into them. You can hear the moans and praises Tom grunts as you ride his fingers.

"T-Tommy," you whine when his fingers aren't enough, "need more, baby, please."

That's enough for him.

He withdraws his fingers and wastes no time lining himself up with your throbbing entrance. With a harsh grip on your hips, Tom carefully guides you on to him. You listen through the pounding of your heart to the breathy gasps and moans that Tom releases. You both share a satisfied moan when you rest flush on top of him.

"Holy fuck!" Tom cries through gritted teeth as your grip on his hair tightens, the sting at his scalp adding to his pleasure. The soft, tight, heat of you was burning him alive, he was already throbbing uncontrollably inside you. You weren't faring any better than Tom was, the stretch of him was always delicious, leavjng you clawing the muscular shoulder beneath your free hand, the fullness of his length seated completely inside you made you light in the head.

The windows of the car have sufficiently fogged up, the darkness of the secluded street now clouded over from the heat of your bodies. Heavy breaths and fluttering whines fill the small space, Tom waiting patiently until you give him the go-ahead. The gentle rocking of your hips is all the confirmation he needs.

"N-No, no, don't," he says and grips your thighs to keep you from moving. Instead he spreads his legs as much as he can in the small car, finding his footing to drive up into you. His pace is slow, letting you get accustomed to him as best he can before his resolve completely breaks. He only lasts a few more thrusts before he's whimpering with you.

"Tommy! Fuck, feels good," you babble as you kiss the sweaty skin of his jaw. The moment you sink your teeth into the sweet spot below his neck, he was a goner.

"A-Ah, fuck!" He whimpers as his hips falter before speeding up, the car rocking with his now heavy thrusts. Those sturdy arms you love wind around your waist to hold you down, giving him better leverage to fuck you.

"Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Tom!" You cry out as he pounds into you, filthy sclickschlickschlick sounds harmonize your cries.

"M'close, lovie," Tom warns in a strained voice, his face flushed red from exertion. "Rub your clit, baby, rub your clit for me!"

He was desperate, you can tell by the sound of his voice alone, but the throbbing of his dick and the faltering of his rhythm were clear indicators of his rapidly approaching end. Your fingers felt nowhere near as good as his does, but they get the trick done. The added pleasure of your fingers playing with your clit has you fluttering around him, each spasm drawing a whimper from your boyfriend. The pleasure mounting in your core was building more and more, until you couldn't take it anymore.

"F-Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" You exclaim when your high finally broke over you, your legs trembling around Tom's lap. The arch in your back grows, giving Tom the perfect view of your sweaty and gorgeous face, the furrow in your brows, the dazed look in your eyes, the way your mouth hung open wide to let out the most pornographic moan— that was his undoing.

"Jesus f-fucking— fffUUUUCK!" He groans loudly and throws his head back, his eyes rolling back as he finishes inside you. You moan at the hot feeling of his cum filling you, instinctively grinding down into him to help milk him dry. Fluttering whines leave your lover as he basks in the sensitivity, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

"Ooooooh fuck," he sighs as you relax into him completely, the car now quiet save your heavy breathing. Lazy hands move across your body, tenderly soothing any aches from his frenzied grip. Loving kisses rain down on your head and shoulder, any place he can reach is given a delicate kiss. You can't help but giggle, he makes you too happy.

"You, ok, pretty girl?" He asks with a blissed out smile, mirroring your own.

"Never been better, Tommy."

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#tom grant x you #tom grant x fem!reader #tom grant x female reader #tom grant x reader #tom grant #tom grant make up #tom grant make up 2019 #make up 2019 #make up #joseph quinn characters #little lion literature

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fxckadoodledoomunson · 1 year

Text

New Angel |One-Shot|

Summary: After finding Tom drunk and upset about Ruth, you do your best to be there for him. What happens when you both develop feelings for one another?

Warning: swearing, vomiting , Kai being a dick.

It started at the bonfire. You were busy chatting to your new boss Shirley when you noticed one of your colleagues, Tom, stumbling across the beach.

You had started your job a few days ago, doing maintenance. You couldn’t stand Kai, who was an arsehole to a lot of people, and he couldn’t stand it that a woman was doing maintenance. Tom, on the other hand, was very kind and patient with you learning the ropes.

Not long after you had came to the holiday park, there was an uproar between him and Kai. Tom found out from him that Tom’s ex girlfriend, Ruth was seeing Jade, another colleague behind his back.

Ever since then, Tom had not been in a good place.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Shirley, before you followed Tom to the other part of the beach, making sure that he didn’t do anything stupid.

You called out to him, only to be ignored. You went up to him when you noticed that he was watching something as tears ran down his face. You turned to find Ruth and Jade kissing. You quickly looked up at him, and put your hands on his shoulders, before moving him away from the scene. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

You steadied him, as you reached his mobile home.

You took his key, and unlocked the door, before going inside.

You gently sat him on the edge of the bed, before telling him, “I’ll get you some water.” You rubbed his arm, before heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water, when you heard Tom sobbing.

You turned to look at him, as you turned off the tap. You took the glass with you into the bedroom.

You squatted down in front of Tom, who was covering his face with his hands as he continued to sob.

You softly shushed him, before telling him, “Here, drink this.”

He moved his hands away, revealing his blood-shot eyes, as you passed him the glass. He took a small sip, before he began to blubber.

As you took the glass from him and put it by his bedside table, Tom wept, “I thought that we were happy together.”

You rubbed his arm, as he asked, “What did I do wrong?”

You placed your hands on his lap as you told him, “Nothing, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

You sighed, before telling him, “I know that I’ve only been here for a few days, but from what I’ve seen and how you spoke about Ruth, you’re nothing but a sweetheart. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Tom looked up at you, as he asked, “Really?”

You nodded when he asked, “Can I...kiss you?”

You were taken back by the question, but you firmly replied, as you sympathetically gazed at him, “No.”

“But, you said that-“

“I know what I said.” You sighed, before telling him, “Tom, you’re not thinking straight. And even if you were by a miracle, immediately over Ruth, I wouldn’t kiss you when you’re drunk. Or anyone for that matter. If I did that, I would be taking advantage. Okay?”

Tom silently nodded, as he sniffled.

“Why don’t you lie on the bed? Get some shuteye,” you suggested.

Doing what you suggested, Tom pushed himself towards his bed and began to lie down.

As he shut his eyes, you put a blanket over him and squeezed his hand, before telling him, “I’ll check in on you in the morning.”

As Tom went to sleep, you were about to leave when you gazed at his sleeping face. You sighed, before telling yourself, “Maybe I should stay, make sure that he doesn’t do anything daft.”

You looked over to the couch, before walking towards it and laid on it. You grabbed the blanket near your head and covered yourself with it, before going to sleep.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of vomiting. You sat up, before getting up to go to the bathroom.

You walked in to find Tom kneeling down in front of the toilet, throwing up.

You squatted down and rubbed his back, when he turned to you, and asked, “What are you doing here?”

You were about to respond when he asked, “Have you been here all night?”

You nodded, before telling him, “I thought that I should stay, just in case you got worse.”

You expected him to tell you to leave, but instead, he told you, “Thank you.”

You smiled at him, before he began to speak, “Look, about last night, what I asked you. I shouldn’t-“

“Don’t worry about it,” you interjected, as you rubbed his back.

As you stood up, you asked him, “Do you think you’ll be okay to work? I can radio Shirley-“

“No, no need,” Tom replied as he shook his head. “Kai will get teasy with me if I don’t come in.”

“Teasy?” You asked, furrowing your brow.

“Sorry, forgot that you’re still new to this place,” Tom lightly chuckled. “It means pissed off.”

“Ah, okay,” you giggled, before telling him, “Well, why don’t you have a quick shower and I’ll make you a cup of tea and some toast. Is the bread on the side still okay?”

“Should be,” Tom replied, before he took off his hoodie.

You were about to leave, when he called for you.

You turned to look at him, when he smiled at you and said, “Thanks. You’re an angel.”

You giggled, before telling him, “You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to it.”

You closed the door behind you, before making your way to the kitchen to make him toast and a cup of tea.

Weeks had past since the bonfire. Over time, you and Tom became good friends. However, after Jade and Ruth left, you were asked to cover their jobs until Shirley recruited more people, so you didn’t get a chance to spend more time with him at work. But it wasn’t so bad, at least you didn’t have Kai breathing down your neck constantly.

Whenever you had a day off though, you would visit Tom and offer to help him with his work, even though Kai wasn’t pleased about it, always telling you to leave, saying that you were just distracting him and Tom.

“Well, I was doing this job before I had to cover for the leavers,” you retorted, as you handed a bolt cutter to Tom.

“I wonder how long it’ll be until you leave him for another girl,” Kai spat. Before Tom could say anything, you slapped Kai across the face. You glared at Kai before you sternly told him, “My relationship with Tom, be it platonic or romantic is none of your business, nor is my sexuality.”

Kai glared at you, as you told him, “If you ever talk shit to me or Tom again, I’ll report you to Shirley. Understand?”

Kai silently grabbed his tool bag and left, rubbing his cheek.

You turned to a stunned Tom, and was about to speak, when he smirked, before telling you, “Looks like you might’ve put him in his place.”

He chuckled when you told him, “Yeah well, he shouldn’t said that, not in front of you.”

You were cleaning up the worktop, putting the tools and safety gears away when Tom cleared his throat, before asking, “Are we still on for tonight at your place?”

You nodded at him, before replying, “Yeah, definitely. As long as you don’t mind pasta.”

Tom chuckled, as he helped you clear up.

Later that evening, you and Tom were sitting at the table, having tomato and basil spaghetti. You both lifted your glasses of water at the same time, when you quickly put it down, before getting up as you said, “Nearly forgot.”

Tom watched you and started giggling when you came back with some slices of bread on a plate.

You took a couple of slices, leaving Tom the remaining slices. “Cheers,” he said, as started putting his spaghetti in between the slices.

You giggled as you watched him do it. “I still can’t believe you do that.”

You were about to dip your bread when Tom said, “You try it.”

You furrowed your brows, before you chuckled, “Do you dare me?”

Tom laughed, before taking a bite of his spaghetti sandwich. “Alright then,” you said, as you added your spaghetti in between your two slices of bread. You could hear Tom’s muffled laughter as you picked up your spaghetti sandwich. You giggled, before you took a bite of it, which made Tom cheer.

You giggled after you took a bite when suddenly, Tom got up and leaned forward as he said, “Hang on, you’ve got something...”

He wiped the sauce off your cheek with his thumb, and sat back down. You wiped your cheek with a tissue and thanked him, as he sucked the sauce off his thumb.

After dinner, you both sat on the couch, watching a film, Carousel on the television. Halfway through the film, you grabbed a blanket from your side and placed it over yours and Tom’s legs. “Thanks,” he said, as he sat up straight.

As you both continued watching the film, Tom suddenly asked, “Do you believe in guardian angels?”

You turned to him, and asked, “Why do you asked?”

Tom shrugged before replying, “Just got thinking.” He then turned to you as he asked, “So, do you?”

“Well, I believe there’s something or someone looking out for us.” You giggled, before telling him, “My Nan told me years ago that she had a guardian angel.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded, before explaining, “She left her purse on the bus, with the money she needed for the rent. She said that was so distraught that she couldn’t go home and tell my grandad, in case he got angry. She was sitting on a bench when a man went up to her and gave her her purse. Weird thing was, not only did she not have any photo identification, but she never saw that man on the bus. After he left, she went after him to thank him, but when she turned a corner, he was gone. Just vanished.”

“Shit,” Tom exclaimed as his doe eyes widened.

“I know it sounds unbelievable, but stranger things have happened.”

Tom giggled when you asked him, “What about you? Do you believe in guardian angels?”

Tom sighed, before telling you, “Well, to be honest, I never really believed in all that. That is, until I met you.”

Your eyes widened, hearing what he told you. Tom gulped, before confessing, “Since you came to the park, you’ve been so good to me. And if I’m honest, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come here.”

You silently gazed at him, as he continued to confess, “Look, I’m still not completely over Ruth, I mean, I’ve been with her since we were fifteen. But... I really do like you, and I’d like us to be...more than mates.”

You gasped, as you looked away from him. You were in shock after what Tom confessed. Suddenly, tears ran down your cheeks, feeling confused. You liked him, but you didn’t want to be with him while he was still healing.

You heard Tom sniffle, before saying to you, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it...”

You heard the couch creak, before hearing footsteps heading to the door. The next second, you heard the door open and then slam shut.

A short moment later, you looked up, as you heard Tom cuss in the distance. You quickly went up to your window, as you sniffled, and watched a weeping Tom marching to his home.

A few moments later, Tom forcibly opened his door and slammed it behind him, before he sat down on his bed and uncontrollably sobbed.

He hadn’t meant for the confession to slip out. He still loved Ruth, even after what she did. But he also had developed feelings for you. Who wouldn’t? You had been so good to him after what happened with Ruth, but he was now wondering if he mistook your kindness for romantic feelings.

Suddenly, he heard pounding on the door. “Whoever that it is, just go away!” He sobbed, when the pounding continued. Tom got up, and shouted as he opened the door, “Are you fuckin’ deaf?! I said-“

It was you.

Tom murmured your name when you suddenly wrapped your arms around his waist, as you burst into tears.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, as you buried your face into his chest. “I’m sorry, Tom.”

Tom wrapped his arms around you, as he asked, “Why are you apologising for? I was the one who fucked up.”

You shook your head, as you confessed, “I really like you too. But it wouldn’t be fair to pursue a relationship with you while you’re still healing.”

Tom brought you inside, bringing you in the warm, before he shut the door while holding you.

He stroked your hair, before he sat you down on his bed.

He held you, as he asked you, “Do you mean it? That you like me, as more than a mate?”

You looked up at him, as you nodded, before telling him, “But like I said, you’re still going through a healing process. And I don’t want to be a rebound.”

“I understand,” Tom replied, as he wiped your tears away. “You really are an angel.”

You softly giggled, as rubbed your eye.

You both gazed at each other for a moment, before you cleared your throat. You then stood up, and were about to leave, when Tom grabbed your hand. You turned to him, thinking that he was going to ask you to stay over, but instead, he stood up, and said to you, “Let me walk you home.”

“Now who’s being an angel?” You giggled, making Tom chuckle.

A moment later, you and Tom were silently walking to your place. As you reached your door, you turned to him and thanked him for walking you home.

“You’re welcome, angel,” Tom replied, making you giggle at your new nickname. You hugged him, as you bid him goodnight.

“Good night,” Tom responded, as he reciprocated the hug.

Suddenly, you jumped at the sound of foxes shrieking. “Bloody foxes,” you sighed.

“You’ll get used to it,” Tom giggled.

Months had past since that night. The two of you remained close friends, even when things had changed in the park. Kai had gone to work somewhere else, which was a relief for Tom. Shirley found a few new employees, so that meant you were allowed to work in maintenance again with Tom, as well as a new colleague, who was much older than you two, but was far more pleasant to work with than Kai.

Another thing that happened was Tom had finally gotten over Ruth. Tom realised it when he was on shift one day, when the new colleague, Richard noticed how Tom was looking at you when he was supposed to saw a plank of wood, as you were sweeping the floor, gathering the sawdust with the dustpan and brush, before chucking the sawdust in the bin. “I’m surprised that you two aren’t a couple.” The older man lowly asked Tom.

“Sorry?” Tom asked, as he began to saw the plank.

Richard chuckled, before quietly telling him, “I see the way you two look at each other, lad. Even Shirley can see it.”

Tom quickly looked at you, as you put away the broom and dustpan, before turning back to Richard, who said, “Unless of course, this Ruth girl still has your heart-“

“I’m over Ruth,” Tom blurted out, before he quickly turned to you, finding that you weren’t there, much to his relief.

Richard then patted Tom’s shoulder, as he told him, “Well, since you’re over Ruth, it’s about time you told her.”

“Told who what?” You asked, as you went back inside.

“Oh,um...” Tom began to hesitate, when Richard said to you, as patted Tom’s shoulder, “That he wants to cook dinner for you tonight.”

“Oh,” you exclaimed, before you smiled and replied, “Okay. What time?”

“About six?” Tom asked.

You nodded as you answered, “I’ll be there at six.”

Tom smiled when you told both men, “If you don’t need me here, I’ll ask Shirley if there’s anything she needs me to do.”

As both men said goodbye to you, you waved as you left. Tom stared at Richard as he told him, “I can’t believe you done that.”

Richard chuckled as he retorted, “Well someone’s gotta give you both a push.”

You arrived at Tom’s place hours later. You were about to knock on the door, when it opened, revealing a smiling Tom. “Hi,” he greeted you.

“Hi,” you greeted back, as he let you in. As soon as you went inside and took off your coat, Tom took it off you and hung it up. You thanked him, when he said, “Have a seat. Dinner’s almost ready.”

As you sat down, Tom was gathering the plates, before getting a couple of glasses of water and placed them on the table. You watched him dish up Spaghetti Bolognese onto the plates, before adding slices of bread to the plates.

You smiled, as he brought both plates to the table. You thanked him, before taking a sip of water.

You watched Tom putting his spaghetti in between his slices of bread, before you did the same thing.

Tom giggled, as he watched you. “I didn’t think that you would still do that.”

“Well, what can I say? You’re a bad influence,” you joked, before you both took a bite of your sandwiches.

After chewing his sandwich, Tom asked, “You still working tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but Shirley’s given me the afternoon off,” you replied. “What about you?”

“I’ve got the day off. So, I’ll be going surfing in the afternoon.”

“That’s nice,” you replied, before chewing on your sandwich.

After Tom sipped his water, he suggested, “I can teach you if you like. If you haven’t got anything else planned.”

Your face lit up, as you responded, “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve wanted to learn for a while, but I never got the chance to, you know with covering shifts, and also looking after Kippa and her nan while her grandad was in hospital.”

“At least now you can learn.”

You nodded, before taking another bite of your sandwich.

The next day, you waited at your place for Tom to arrive with a spare surf suit for you to wear. As soon as he came already in his surf suit, he gave you the suit and waited for you to get changed. After slipping into the suit, you asked Tom to help zip you up.

“Yeah sure,” he replied, as he went up to you and zipped you up.

He gulped as he gazed at you, when you turned around and told him, “Right, ready when you are.”

A moment later, you and Tom stepped out of your place and you closed the door behind you and locked it as Tom grabbed his surfboard. You then hid your key under one of your flower pots, before you both made your way to the beach.

After Tom taught you the basics, you both got in the water. “Shit! That’s cold!” You cried, as you felt the cold water covering your lower body.

Tom laughed, as he positioned his surfboard, before he helped you up on his board. You felt wobbly as you got on it, but Tom steadied you as you laid on your front and started paddling around, getting used to being on the surfboard, while he praised you.

When you felt confident, you slowly stood up, steadying yourself. But as soon as the waves came in, you started leaning backwards and fell off the board.

A worried Tom quickly swam towards you and lifted you up, bringing you to the surfboard. You coughed, as Tom asked if you were okay.

You nodded, as he rubbed your back while you moved your hair back, before Tom suggested that the two of you should head back to his home.

A few moments later, you were sitting on Tom’s couch, wearing his clothes that he lent you and a blanket around you. Tom sat down next to you and handed a cup of hot chocolate to you. “Thanks,” you said, before blowing on it, cooling it down enough for you to take a sip. As you put down your cup on the table, you told him, “Thanks again for lending me your clothes.”

“That’s alright,” Tom replied, when he heard you cough. He patted your back before asking you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, replying, “I’m alright. Just not used to the sea water.”

You chuckled, as Tom rubbed your back. The pair of you gazed at each other for a moment, before Tom opened his mouth and began to tell you, “Listen, angel. There’s something I need to tell you...”

“Is this about your chat about Ruth with Richard yesterday?” You interjected.

Tom raised his eyebrows, as he began to ask, “How did you-?”

“I overheard you both,” you admitted, before you asked, “Is it really true? That you’re over Ruth?”

Tom immediately nodded, as he confessed, “Yes, I am. I think I’ve been over her for quite some time.”

You silently looked at him, when he confessed, “Look, angel. I don’t know if you still like me as more than a mate, but my feelings for you haven’t changed. If anything, they’ve gotten stronger.”

You gaped, as you continued to listen. “I understand if you don’t feel the same-“

“Ask me,” you interjected. A confused Tom asked you, “What?”

“What you asked me that night I took you home. If you remember?”

Tom remembered what you meant. That night when he was drunk, when he asked you if he could kiss you, which you rejected.

Tom took a deep breath, before finally asking you, “Can I...kiss you?”

You smiled, as you replied, “Yes.”

Tom grinned before he leaned forward and kissed your lips. You reciprocated as you cupped his cheek.

As you both pulled away, you both giggled when Tom asked, “So I take it that you...”

“Yes, I do,” you interjected. “My feelings for you haven’t changed either.”

Tom smiled again before you leaned in to give him a passionate kiss, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, before you straddled him. He then wrapped his arms around your waist, as you continued to kiss, when he suddenly pulled away, before he asked, “Do you want to stay the night?”

You nodded, as you replied, “Yes.” You then pressed your forehead against his as you happily sighed, before you kissed him once more.

#make up 2019 #tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant x fem!reader #Tom Grant x female reader

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heresathreebee · 2 years

Text

Tom Grant | Makeup (2019) || Prompt Anal // Glove Kink

College in America AU/ Vacation in America AU; 2.6k words; NO BETA/ SELF- EDITED. Best Friends to Lovers, American Author Writing British Characters, Swearing, Alcohol, Wet Dreams, Somewhat Dubious Consent, Groping, Semi-Public Sex, Anal Fingering (spit is not lube SPIT IS NOT LUBE; male receiving), Mutual Masterbation (male and female receiving)

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You were dreaming about him again– your best friend Tom. Watched too much Tila Tequila and Love Island reruns and now you’re thinking about him doing body shots off of you.

Licking sugar off your neck, sucking vodka from your belly button, and going for the lemon wedge in your mouth only for you to spit it out and kiss him instead. You dream about his hand closing around your throat and pulling back with a dangerous look at his eye.

“Naughty girls get punished,” his voice echoes in your ear as his other hand forces its way into your shorts and his fingers slip into your welcoming channel–

“OI WAKE UP, YOU’RE GONNA MAKE US LATE–”

You don’t usually wake up screaming but today is the exception. Tom threw your door open and didn’t seem to notice your complete state of disarray. Then he threw an empty duffle bag at you and bounced on his heels.

“Move your ass, English, we’ve got a road trip to start!”

He slammed your door closed and hollered down the hall of the dorm. Your thighs were still shaking from your weak orgasm and you mourned yet another pillow lost to your devilish fantasies. You knew Tom would bark about you showering but you weren’t about to ride three hours in a car with sticky underwear. At least you were already packed.

As predicted, Tom made a fuss but you were still on the road in no time. The urge to slip your hand down your pants and try and take care of the lingering sexual energy haunting you was unfortunately a nonestarter what with Tom constantly chattering on beside you. You managed to distract yourself with song selections and the thought of finally getting to see some old friends from home who were visiting for the summer.

After sunset, a dozen rounds of beach volleyball, and three kegs of beer, all of your drunk mates went scrambling for ice cream that you and Tom had already eaten on the boardwalk.

A dare battle was inevitable in a crowd like this, but between you and Tom it had become an all out war. Handstands in gas stations, swimming contests (a few close call drownings), dropping ice down each other's shirts or stuffed into bikinis and swim trunks, wrestling in the sand. A few of your friends were established couples and a few single (and not so single) mates were looking to hook up. You almost felt left out of the sexual energy buzzing around. There had been one grope from a tall Cali local friend that you were enthusiastic about, but Tom had put an end to that quickly (and to your eternal suffering). You were planning on getting him back for that. You waited until the two of you were alone, some distance from the boardwalk while everyone else was taking turns playing an old arcade game by the hotdog stand.

“Tommy,” you sang. He was polishing off a beer by the fire. “Do you wanna play… chicken?”

Instantly, Tom rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t start that. Don’t start that ‘cause you always lose.”��

“I do not!” You kick a stray football and a spray of sand follows it. “But if I did… what have you got to lose, seeing as you'll win and all?”

Tom stared at you long and hard. “Fuck it.” He tossed his empty beer into the mountainous trash bag and swaggered over to you, his eyes glancing up at the boardwalk where people were becoming less frequent and less visible in the growing darkness. The sky was purple, the beach black, and everything near the fire was dancing red and orange, including the two of you. “Me first.”

“All yours then.”

The first thing Tom likes to do– he always likes to do– is glance at your lips and lean towards you. It’s a faux pas, one that has lost you many, many games as you always flinch or run away. This time, you gulp and stand firm, unable to look at him so you screw your eyes closed. You felt the gentle breeze of his breath on your lips, still a little sweet smelling from the icecream flavor you forced him to pick earlier (pink bubblegum). He doesn’t kiss you– he has never kissed you– and you can’t breathe or open your eyes for fear of caving in until he backs off.

“Alright…?” Tom was clearly weirded out by your reaction.

You smile and hope he buys your nonchalant expression. “Is that all you’ve got? You’re getting sloppy, mate.”

“Cheeky,” he grumbled. You watched Tom pop his finger into his mouth which would have been sexy if you didn’t know what he intended to do with it.

“Don’t,” you said through gritted teeth. “I swear to god, Tommy–”

“A-what? Is that… a chicken, I hear?,” Tom teased and wiggled his shiny finger right by the tip of your nose. “Are you chickening, chicken?”

You bite your lip and glare really hard at him. You would not fold this time. You take the wet willy with a growl and curse at him while he giggles and gives up on it. The next moves he doesn't do often (because you've a tendency to chicken out long before then).

His roguish hands hover dangerously (delectably) close to your body as if scanning you for ticklish spots and erogenous zones. "D'you know, I think you really grew into your body. I mean, look at these hips!"

His hands plant themselves and grope you, his touch is just on the edge of being rough and leaves a small lingering impression of themselves behind like an after image. It takes everything in you not to moan and collapse into him– he's massaging your curves to tease you, trying to make you uncomfortable without realizing you are very into his attention.

"And this?"

His hands travel down until they're squeezing the apple of your ass and all but forcing your body towards him. You have to take a step closer just to keep your balance and have worried your lip so hard the inside starts to bleed. Tom has picked up on your impregnable silence and, as predicted, takes things a step further.

He loves winning and it's never this hard. There's no preamble, Tom simply slides his hands up your torso and around your back to fiddle with the ties of your bikini top and giving you his most smoldering looks (it's working, your skin is burning everywhere he looks at you).

"Nice tits too. When did you get them?," he says like he's asking about the weather.

You roll your eyes and squeak when he squeezes them. It’s something you’ve had a hundred wet dreams about, but it’s all just a game to him and you have to maintain that it’s just a game for you too. “Go on, get it out of your system, you pervert.”

As if playing into the character, Tom folds his tongue and groans lasciviously as his hands flatten and squeeze your boobs again. You lock your jaw and peak over your shoulder to find your friends still far away and sitting down to eat. You accidentally gasp when his hands find their way beneath your bikini top and his thumbs flick over your sensitive nipples causing electric shocks to storm through your body.

He's breaking the rules. Its an unspoken one, but you bite your tongue and don't chicken or call him out, so at long last, Tom’s hands disappear from your body and he sighs in defeat.

You smile smugly at his shocked face even as you readjust your bikini. “Finished?” For once, it’s Tom shifting uncomfortably because of you. “My turn?”

“Yeah, alright.” Tom clears his throat and opens himself up (shoulders back, hands limp at his sides).

No backing out now– this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. You tuck your poor, savaged bottom lip between your teeth and undress him with your eyes, lingering on the curls tumbling over his forehead, the column of his throat, his broad shoulders, the outline of musculature beneath his shirt. It’s cute the way he squirms. You’ve never looked at him like that before (not while he was watching anyways).

“What to play with first…” you whisper to yourself. “Whatcha got in here?”

Flinching is an instant loss in chicken, but a tiny bit is allowed. Tom flinches when he sees you reaching for his shorts but he growls as you reach into his pockets.

“Come ooon,” he groans as you dig around through his personal items. Crumbled receipts, a capless pen, a joint, two lighters, a calculator– that makes you giggle as you pocket all of his things to keep the sand off of them. Then you pull his wallet and wave it in front of his eyes.

“That’s off limits,” he barks immediately.

“Just a look isn’t!” You open the wallet to find stacks of cards, wads of tens and ones, his ID, and a saucy picture of a girl. “Look, not taking anything! My tits are bigger.”

“Better, you mean,” he grumbles as you pocket his personal items and return to skimming your hands over his thighs looking for secret pockets. “Not gonna find any other goodies– ACKH!”

Tom gasps as you cup his balls through his trunks. His eyes widen and a shiver runs through him. You, on the other hand, are wearing the biggest shiteating grin.

“Hey look! More goodies!”

His disbelief has him silent and staring like a statue. You pay him no mind and let your hands wander elsewhere, touching him the way you wish he would touch you. Feather light, almost ticklish as you touch his chest and belly under his shirt.

"Hope you're prepared to witness the consequences of your actions," Tom warned.

"Consequences?," you scoffed. And then you looked down to see an interesting lump forming below his waistband. “Oh.”

Tom is shameless, you are suddenly beginning to learn. Two can play at that game. You walk your fingers over the button of his shorts before setting the button free, much to Tom's shock.

"I… you can't," he's starting to protest, "thought we were keeping it over the clothes…"

It was an unspoken rule, but… "is that what you call your last move? Tweaking my nipples?"

Tom snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes. You started to feel sorry for him and offered an olive branch. "I won't take anything out, promise."

Tom's jaw clenched as he felt the zipper loosen with ease and relieve some pressure off his arousal. You bit your lip again and offered another boon, one you pray he doesn't take.

"Just chicken and we can stop," you whisper. "Seriously. It's just a game, Tommy. But I won't stop unless you tell me to."

Emotions warred on your friends' face. He wasn't sure he wanted you to stop, only... he couldn't say it felt right letting you keep on. In the end he chose silence, except for an eye rolling grunt as your hand came into contact with the impression of his junk through his cotton briefs.

"Wow, speaking of growing…" You chuckled madly at Tom's indignant growl.

Judging entirely by feel, Tom was your version of perfect. Not too big, not too small, and a formidable girth if you weren't mistaken. But now was not the time to back down– it's possible for you to still win your first game of chicken, if only you'd go just a little further.

"Stop enjoying yourself," you scold your squirmy friend.

"I-I… enjoying myself? I'm just, I'm just reacting to being touched!"

You let your fingers wander from his junk to his backside and feel him tense up. "You know the magic word to make it all stop, love."

Tom looks at you nervously. "What are you doin' now?"

"Something wicked," you reply, and squeeze his cheeks.

For a moment, Tom's eyes flutter. "That's not so bad…"

"Really? What would you call a wet willy that doesn't go in your ear?," you stuff a few of your fingers into your mouth.

"Y-you wouldn't," he stutters but grows more confident. "Nah, you wouldn't. You're… too prudish to do that. Even I wouldn't, and I–"

Tom cuts himself off and swallows hard. He is forced to watch as you suck your own digits, even thrusting shallowly into your mouth for show. Your eyes are hard set on his, practically shouting, 'chicken, chicken!' but he won't (he doesn't want to).

Once your fingers are starting to prune, you pluck them out with a pop. "Sorry I didn't plan ahead, otherwise I would've brought you some lube. But this should be fine, right?"

Tom shivers as your hand disappears behind his back again and feels your other, dry hand spread his cheeks a little.

"You'll tell me if it hurts won't you?," you whisper innocently, "I'll go in slow but you can chicken at any time."

"Fuck. You," Tom grinds out. "I'm no chicken."

“... suit yourself.”

Tom’s jaw drops as he feels the pad of your finger circle the rim of his hole. He tenses as you start to push in, but just as quickly he feels his body betray him by relaxing and allowing you to breach, his cock twitching in his boxers as your fingers curl a few inches inside of him. It takes him until he sees stars dancing around your serene face to realize that he’s stopped breathing and he gulps his first few breaths in over a minute.

“Fuck,” he pants, his voice cracking high, “fuck fuck fuck…”

“That good, eh?” You’re teasing him but he can’t answer you when you start working your fingers in and out of him in a shallow, dainty rhythm.

“What the fuck? What the fuck–” Tom is at a loss for words.

His hips rut involuntarily, brushing his clothed cock against your belly and making him moan. If he had known his night would end like this… well he never would have expected anything close to this, how could he? His best mate’s got her fingers planted in his hole!

Tom manages to focus his eyes just long enough to make out your lust drunk face again and beg. “I-I can’t come like this.”

“Sure you can–”

“No I-I-I can’t.” His hands which had been balled into fists at his side now fly to your shoulders to keep you close. “You’re t-too tiny to reach deep enough. Please, you have to touch my cock, please…”

Tom feels you moan more than he hears you (the vibration in your chest making his cock leak). His forehead presses to yours as he feels your other hand slip between your bodies and the second you squeeze his balls, he slams his mouth into yours in a sloppy kiss. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and your fist moves lightning fast over his cock. The assault of sensations has his eyes rolling into the back of his head and he’s coming hard, his hole fluttering around your spit covered fingers and his cum drenching your bikini top.

“Fuck, fuck, stop, please…”

You let Tom go gently, but his own hands pull you into another searing kiss before he collapses to his knees and bumps his sweaty head on your thigh. You giggle when you feel him rub his nose against your zipper and back away quickly, too overcome and aware of your location to let him continue.

Tom stares after you longingly as you slip away to the ocean’s edge and jumps when he’s suddenly surrounded by all of your drunk, happy, and oblivious friends. It takes him a second to stand on his trembling legs, but when he does he finds you hip deep in the water and taking care of yourself. You almost scream when you feel a body press against your back, only to relax when you realize it’s only Tom.

“Oi,” his warm breath tickles your neck and raises goosebumps. “That’s my fucking job.”

His calloused hands cover yours– one over your breast and the other in your open shorts, taking over your minstrations and making you see stars. This is much better than winning a silly little chicken game.

Previous | Masterlist | Next: Steve Harrington Brrathplay/ Missionary

Bienvenu powerbottoms! If you've made it this far, perhaps you would like to leave me a comment about something you liked or would be excited to read from me! Nothing makes my day more than hearing what people think about my work 🧡

#three bees writing #kinktober 2022 challenge #tppkinktober2022 #tom grant smut #tom grant x female reader #black reader insert #joseph quinn character fiction

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fujiihime · 2 years

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Joseph Quinn's Other Characters Fics (Series/One-Shots) - I

I made a list of currently reading and recommended fics for Joseph Quinn's other characters here on Tumblr. All were beautifully written by amazing writers. These writers are incredible and full of brilliant ideas, so please visit their blogs and check all of their works. Happy reading! Don’t forget to comment and reblog their works. You may also reblog this list to share with everyone/blog mutuals. Thank you! (For 18+, MDNI)

Prince Paul (Catherine the Great)

Pick Your Poison | 2 | 3 by @punk-in-docs

Keep Watch Over The Door Of My Lips

And The Stars Sighed In Unison

Lay No Claim | 2 by @the-suburban-blues

It Has Always Been You by @dingusfreakhxrrington

With Me Now by @the-suburban-blues

Our Duty & Birth Of 1st Child by @emmywrites-blog

Deserve Love Series | 2 | 3 | 4 | ED by @boohoo-clo

Thank You by @m7nson

Out Of The Dark by @creme-bruhlee

My Darling by @helpwhatsthis

Childish by @badmirvcle

Eye for An Eye by @rocknrollbabe14

Ralph (TimeWasters)

At Last | 2 | 3 | 4 | ED by @luv4fandoms

It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To by @brighteyedbushybrowed

Please & Darling by @no-mercy-bby

Wizard by @creme-bruhlee

To Be Loved by @stevies-corner

A Special Present For A Special Boy by @littlelioncub43

Who's A Good Boy? | 2 @mypoisonedvine

Baby Boy by @historygeekfics

Show Me

Untitled by @thefreak-thebanished

A Life Well Loved by @eddiemunsonthebanished

Words Of Advice | 2 by @ladyfogg

My Sweet Boy by @forays-into-fiction

A Rivalry For The Ages by @ladybug0095

The Dance by @stinkysam

Tell the World by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x

Busy Streets And Busy Lives @thefreak-thebanished

Kinktober: Day13 - Face Sitting by @xcatnapsx

My Way Of Life by @ @sadboyeddie

Tom Grant (Make Up)

You Got Me by @mypoisonedvine

WindSwept by @ladyfogg

Lemons Lollipops and Salt | 2(WIP) by @cherrielip

Adore You by @inklore

5 Minutes In Heaven

A Couple Hours by @luvsouya

Little Thief by @dingusfreakhxrrington

Thunder by @loves0phelia

Maybe It's A Good Thing? | 2 by @dingusfreakhxrrington

Prompts | 2 | 3 by @ladylannisterxo

Welcome Home by @mypoisonedvine

Untitled by @ginger-mews

New Girl | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 by @xcatnapsx

I'm Home by @bluesfortheredj

Cheer Up by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x

Untitled | Prompt by @joemazzmatazz

I'm Not Her by @munsonxmayhem

Smashed by @joekeeryswife

Rebound | 2 | 3 by @munsonxmayhem

Another Sad Love Song by @rocknrollbabe14

Kisses from Cupid by @hawkinsbanishedhero

His Past And His Future by @munsonxmayhem

New Angel by @fxckadoodledoomunson

Mr. And Mrs. Grant by @munsonxmayhem

Tom Grant Series by @wheels-of-despair

Leonard Bast (Howards End)

A Friend Of A Friend by @the-suburban-blues

All I'd Ever Need @the-suburban-blues

As Stubborn As A Mule by @writing-fanics

Arthur Havisham (Dickensian)

The Arrangement | 2 | 3 (x M!Reader) by @ladyfogg

One Of Those Nights (x M!Reader) by @alex-drinks-blood

Untitled (xPlatonicF!Reader) by @dingusfreakhxrrington

Letters (x M!Reader) by @axailslink

Million Dollar Man (x F!Reader) by @lvlycheri

Not All Who Wander Are Lost (x M!Reader) by @lvlycheri

It's Okay (xPlatonicF!Reader) by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x

Please Don't Go (x M!Reader)

Untitled (x M!Reader) by @alex-drinks-blood

Maybe Someday (x M!Reader) by @casettewrecked

Untitled (x M!Reader) by @razzledazzlestuff

Can The Past Save The Future (x M!Reader) by @stardancerluv

Koner (Game of Thrones)

Only You | 2 | 3 by @creme-bruhlee

Night Watch by @historygeekfics

A Not-So-Knight and His Spellcaster | 2(WIP) by @brighteyedbushybrowed

Winter Nights | 2 by @ercklln

A Winter's Tale by @lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer

Dark Koner (Untitled) by @mypoisonedvine

Note: I hope a lot more writers will write stories for these characters and I'm sure we're all excited to read more stories about it.

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joe-mazzello-archive · 2 years

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holy shit i've hit 1k!

a huge thank you to everyone who has supported this blog since i started it three years ago. whether you found me back in the days of borhap or you're a new follower who found me from my new eddie stuff, i appreciate you! i've met a lot of amazing people because of this blog and i'm extremely grateful.

so let's celebrate!

this friday, september 2 around 7pm CST, i'll be kicking off my 1k follower celebration! here's how you can participate:

☼ send me prompts!

send me a prompt from list one, list two, or list three (make sure to tell me which list) and a character! here are the characters i'll write for:

eddie munson (stranger things)

tom grant (make up)

adult tim murphy (jurassic park)

eugene sledge (the pacific)

pat murray (undrafted)

☼ send me asks!

send me whatever you want to talk about! tell me about your day, tell me about your latest obsession, tell me about your character hcs etc. feel free to ask me about my fics, my thoughts on various topics, my opinions on stuff, whatever you can think of.

☼ send me celeb names!

i'll rate them on this scale:

☼ send me celebs in menswear!

y'all know i love to nerd out about menswear, so send me some pics of celebs in menswear and i'll give my thoughts!

can't wait to celebrate with you guys!

#eddie munson x reader #tom grant x reader #tim murphy x reader #eugene sledge x reader #pat murray x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #tom grant #tom make up #tim murphy #eugene sledge #pat murray #joemazzmatazz

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queers-gambit · 1 month

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The Business That Pays You

prompt: ( requested ) not all disabilities are visible. being accosted for something out of your control angers the watchdog - your boyfriend, Carmy. additional request: protective Carmy.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x disabled!female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 4.5k+

note: it's not the best, it's short, doesn't really focus on Carm being protective but it'll do for now.

warnings: incredibly niche, depiction of invisible disabilities from author's personal experience, need and use of medical equipment, author doesn't pay for therapy and projects hard in this, cursing, Lord's name in vain, strangers picking fights.

Your mother raised you to be poised, collected, personable. Your mother indeed raised a lady; someone was independent, who valued morals and education, who showed equal respect to both custodian and CEO. Your mother instilled a set of beliefs that you refused to dismantle; becoming someone who knew right from wrong, to be helpful, kind, compassionate, empathetic.

Your mother, however, did not raise you to be a bitch. She did not raise you to take other people's shit, she did not raise you to take life for granted; to walk away from confrontation as much as she taught you to stand up for yourself.

People saw you and made snap judgements; thinking they could manipulate and control you, offer harassment and instill a sense of fear in you. Your mother raised you to only fear the wrath of God, not the opinions of privileged, foul-mouthed nobodies who couldn't understand a Goddamn thing you endure. She did not feed you from silver spoons; you had no preconceived notions about life's realities, but instead of becoming pessimistic, you were extraordinarily optimistic because the world had enough negativity in it.

However, despite the strength your mother built in you, that did not mean you were indestructible or any less human than anyone else. You weren't some robot who could turn emotions off and operate mechanically, you had a heart despite how your mother tried to program it to keep you safe from emotional turmoil.

The world could tear anyone down, she didn't want you defenseless against forces that would take advantage of you; she understood there was often no say in how life played out, so, if she could, she wanted to prepare you for what you could control.

All that to say, your mama didn't raise no bitch - but that didn't mean your feelings couldn't be hurt. While graceful, you had both bark and bite; traits that came in handy when defending yourself against wrongful opinions that drained your energy. Since starting high school at 14, you were always the oddball out - the need for a medical aids making it that much harder to fit in amongst able-bodied peers. Since that age, you were accustomed to every Tom, Dick, and Harry voicing their opinion about you; constantly wondering what was "wrong" when you seemed perfectly capable to their naked eye.

They had no business being in your business. No right to know what medical complications you endure, nor the diagnosis bestowed or any explanation for why you needed medical equipment. Didn't stop anyone from voicing their questions, though, feeling some kind of sick entitlement to answers only you could provide.

You were human, why wasn't that enough? You were a person with real feelings, someone with a heart, someone who bled red and had a thick desire for friendship, love, and acceptance.

One look at you and people would think you're perfectly normal, until the days your chronic medical condition flared its ugly head and forced you to rely on mobility aids. You looked normal, but the truth was, you body was in a chronic state of malfunction and sometimes, you needed braces on your ankles, knees, wrists - shit, even your hips! They couldn't tell by looking at you, but the pain was insurmountable. They couldn't tell by looking at you, but you were at a constant disadvantage. They couldn't tell by looking at you, but life was a never-ending nightmare of confusion that made everyday a little extra complicated.

No, nobody could tell - until you were on the ground. Until you had a dislocated joint. Until you lost control of your body and were forced to operate with limited energy and capability.

As you got older, you learned new tips and tricks that could help navigate life a little easier. You made sure to prioritize your rest, drank two liters of water a day, tried to keep a balanced diet, always took your medicines, and exercised to the best of your limited ability. You did whatever was in your power to help yourself, but most people didn't see it this way.

A lot of people just saw you as an inconvenience, someone who complained a lot and held no stake in this life.

One of your newer accommodations was actually more of a necessity. A qualified rheumatologist recommended you get a cane to help keep your balance and prevent unfortunate injury - being a common occurrence for you. So, a cane was added to your inventory and holy shit, did you hate it. You were used to your disability being invisible, allowing you to just skate by under most radars, but with this mobility aid, you couldn't deflect anymore. You were victim to gossip, a spectacle for people to stare at, a curiosity people questioned without real regard to your emotions.

They figured since you were sick and had been for so long, you were at peace with what was "wrong" and wouldn't be triggered by their jarring questions. You hated it, being asked what was "wrong" with you, why you needed a cane when you appeared fit, how you split your lip or sprained your ankle, why you didn't play anymore sports and spent your free time at a hospital - not considering it wasn't a choice you made willingly.

They considered you selfish for prioritizing yourself; telling you that the world was cruel and unfair, that you weren't special, that you didn't deserve "special treatment" because your disability wasn't directly in their face.

They questioned why you wore braces one day and not the next. They wondered how you got sick to begin with. They wanted to know how bad it truly could've been if you still appeared well-enough.

Many thought you were lying about your disability, not understanding what a "flare up" meant; where your body had lulled into a state of homeostasis before being rattled into painful action. They didn't consider that your "normal" was probably on par with their "worst days". Their questions irritated you, yes, but their assumptions just straight up pissed you off - thinking their hour of Googling was enough to compete with years of attending specialty appointments with qualified physicians.

As a direct result, you developed the philosophy that you can't know something if you don't ask questions. However, now you just hated having the responsibility of teaching them thrust upon you when already being the patient - thinking it shouldn't be your role to play.

You already didn't ask for this illness, you certainly didn't ask to be the one that had to make people understand that you were still viable and worthy - like every other human being. You didn't think educating the ignorant should be your duty, but yet again, who better could understand and put everything in words? Who else could convey your situation, explain how you felt, narrate what you endured?

So, for years, you developed a sort of passive attitude, figuring if someone was curious enough to ask questions, the least you could do was answer truthfully to avoid speculations and assumptions. Perhaps it would make the next chronically ill / disabled person's life a little easier by lifting the burden of education from their shoulders. There was no use in feeling bitter anymore, this was your reality and there was no escape; so, your attitude softened and you became a little more open and forthcoming in your tribulations.

Something Carmy admired since the first day he met you.

It was natural for you to feel skeptical when a desirable, able-bodied, very attractive and talented chef took a sudden interest in you; fearing he had some weird kink or wanted to get his jollies by dating "the sick girl". He proved you wrong around every corner, and after keeping him at bay for several months, came around to the idea of going on a real date. This time, when he asked questions to better understand you, your answers were honest, raw, open, and detailed - wanting him to get the full picture to avoid surprise later down the line. It was the least you could do: giving him a look into what dating you would look like, providing every opening to let him run away.

If anything, it made Carmy cling to you tighter.

He impressed you by how easily he accepted your truth. Next thing you knew, the label "sick" or "disabled" was all but vanished from your mind; Carmy making you feel simply human and as if your state was more than enough for him. He treated you with compassion, and if you had a flare-up in front of him, he remained calm and level headed in order to best care for you. Didn't mean he wasn't afraid or startled, but he was at least capable to help in the moment and ensure your safety. That was something Carmy made you feel: safe.

Safe, understood, like you were enough. As if your condition didn't deplete you, but added to who you are.

Carmen Berzatto - or Carmy - was truly one of a kind. A man of rare stock and breed, someone you confided in and trusted; someone who never needed you to be anything more than what you already are. Yes, you were disabled, but Carmy made you feel alive, passionate, and excited to tackle each and every single day; a sensation you have not known since childhood. Since before your illness took over your life.

However, there were some days that even Carmy couldn't save you from. After being assigned your cane, you were recommended to a physical therapist, who taught you the proper ways to best utilize your new mobility aid. Never have you considered there to be logistics behind such a device, but after a brief tutorial, you could feel the difference in use and developed a sense of gratefulness for the helpful tips.

"One last thing," the PT informed you before you could leave, "I'm not saying you will, but a lot of our patients who have invisible disabilities have reported they've encountered individuals who harass them for using their aids in public."

You didn't put stock into his words, just nodding and using your cane to hobble to your car and get back home.

You honestly didn't even think about the warning for weeks... Until one day, you were boarding the bus with your cane and boyfriend with the intent of heading to The Beef to pick out appliances for the renovations. Carmy normally would've drove, but his car was at the mechanics - leaving you both dependent on public transportation like your days in college.

You panted lightly as you climbed the stairs, feeling more tired than a normal day, but still smiling and nodding at the bus driver, swiped your pass, and limped down the short aisle to an open handicap seat Carmy pointed out to you. With a breath of relief, you relaxed slightly to try and relieve tension in your muscles, boyfriend standing beside you to let your head rest on his belly; the bus making several stops before your destination.

When approaching The Beef, you pulled the wire, heard the bus chime in acknowledgment of your stop, and stood from your seat with Carmy's helpful hand in yours; stomping your cane to catch your weight when it lurched while trying to adjust to your new position.

"All right, baby?" Carm checked, eyes wider than normal; able to recognize a flare-up was working into your system as your weakness grew more apparent.

"Yeah," you mumbled, ignoring the sweat dotting your upper lip as your adrenaline was engaged in order to keep you upright.

"Wow," a snotty voice leered slowly, seeing an older, dark-haired woman eyeing you with a curled lip, "bad enough you stole a handicap seat, but you're really using a cane, too?" She scoffed, "Way to lay it on thick. You look absolutely fine, you don't even need that - "

"Excuse me? Do I know you? Did I ask your opinion?" You snapped, the bus going quiet as patrons eavesdropped on the confrontation. Carmy readjusted beside you, his anger and confusion flaring.

"Well, look at you," she gestured, "perfectly healthy but trying to lie about the state of your health? That's so pathetic! You don't even need that cane! Way to steal it out from under someone who does need it, no wonder Medicaid's all backed up. It's 'cause of people like you thinking it's cute and will get them attention or special treatment that the truly disabled can't get their necessary supplies."

You barked a laugh, cutting off Carmy's ready response. He glanced at you in confusion, only seeing entertainment marring yor features. So, you sneered, "Wow, didn't realize I was talking to Superman."

"What does that even mean?" She sneered.

"Oh, sorry, just thought that since you had X-ray vision and all, you must've been him. You know, since you have such an extensive opinion on my disability and all."

"Wow," her eyes rolled as Carmy snickered, "Millennials are truly the worst - "

"I'm Gen Z, bitch," you cut her off, "and just because I don't look like it in your untrained opinion, doesn't mean my disability is any less valid. You know, not all of them are visible - some of us suffer on the inside and hide the outside really well."

"Something you might wanna learn to do - got a whole lot of ugly you might wanna cover up," Carmy scoffed, shaking his head. "C'mon, baby, don't gotta stand here and listen to this kinda bullshit."

"I just think it's shitty of you to steal equipment out from under those who genuinely need it!" The woman continued, making you pause in slight interest. "You're young, your sprained ankle doesn't warrant a cane - you're just using it for the attention, probably want people to feel bad for you. What? Your little boyfriend doesn't dote on you enough?"

"Listen, lady," Carmy snapped, "we've been decently nice, but you're asking for us to get mean. Why don't you fuck off - you don't have the faintest idea what's wrong with her, I don't think you get to say what's necessary and what's not. You're not her doctor, you have no idea what the issue is, so, please, kindly refrain from imposing your bitterness onto other people. Mind the business that pays you, lady, and maybe you won't be so brash and cranky."

"Jesus, she sounds like my little brother when he needs a nap," you tacked on. "Talk about needing attention - throwing a public tantrum is definitely the way to do that."

"I'm just saying!" She defended, noting how the bus of patrons were glaring at her and shaking their heads, "You look perfectly healthy, there can't seriously be something wrong. You would look way worse if there was something real - "

"Jesus, fuck, use your X-ray vision, Superman, then maybe you'd see how brazenly wrong you are," Carmy snapped, your eyes rolling bitterly. You hobbling towards the door, Carmy's warmth at your flank assuring you he was following.

You offered stiffly, "And for whatever it's worth, I had a trained medical professional prescribe this cane as a mobility aid - I don't need some Karen on the bus offering unsolicited opinions."

"I am not a Karen!" She gasped shrilly, looking mortally offended. "You little brat!"

"Not doin' a damn thing to beat those Karen allegations, I see," Carmy chuckled, slinking an arm around your waist; feeling incredibly protective against these judgements. "You might wanna start minding the business that pays you - which certain, isn't us."

"Hope you have as shitty a day as your attitude," you wished her with a smile when the bus pulled up to the curb, easing yourself down the stairs and onto the sidewalk with Carmy's large hands splayed to ensure you didn't trip or fall.

"Jesus Christ," He cursed, glaring at the bus as it pulled away, "you deal with that kinda shit often?"

"More than I should," you shook your head. "Just - let it go, Carm, it doesn't mean shit. The opinions of one dumbass isn't seriously going to make me embarrassed to use my cane."

"Can't believe the nerve of some people," he shook his head, walking on the side of the street to keep you tucked into his side. "I'm sorry you gotta hear that bullshit, baby, Jesus. Only heard it once and I'm fuckin' pissed."

You weren't sure what you felt, but definitely prickly, irritated, annoyed, and very frustrated. Knowing Carmy was just as wound up helped you feel less alone, and the fact that he tried to protect you from the onslaught of rudeness made you a little fuzzy. Perhaps this world wasn't totally doomed...

However, it seemed that wouldn't be your only encounter with a loud-mouth Karen that day. After helping Carmy with certain designs and decisions at The Beef, he informed you that a health inspector was coming to run point and after, you could go home together and soak the irritated joints that were swelling to twice the size they should be. Richie promised to your two a ride home, revoking the need to utilize public transportation. You didn't mind the bus, but it was a helluva lot easier to get in or out of a car, plus it reduces exposure to nosy strangers, their stares, and any comments people might feel the need to voice.

You stationed yourself in the office with Sugar, helping her with anything she asked, and when you limped onto the main floor, you saw an unknown man and woman in pressed suits talking to Carmy and Richie.

You leaned on a counter and listened, cane stationed in front of you, sighing internally when the man eyed you with mild trepidation. You were so close to snapping, but didn't get the chance because he was asking decently kindly (as if you two were friends), "You okay, Miss?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, yeah," you nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help the inspection run smoother?"

"Do you work here?"

"My boyfriend owns and operates the place, I'm just here to help if it's needed."

"Right..." His head shook, shrugging, "Well, uh, no, ma'am, we're just about to finish. Say, if you don't mind me asking, what's with the cane? I mean, you look pretty young, why do you need it? I mean, is it even necessary?"

Carmy was at your side without you even noticing him approaching, arm sliding around your neck to dangle casually as his brows furrowed with mistrust. He asked stiffly, "What's it matter to you?"

"Well, I guess it doesn't, but I was just curious. You mostly see the elderly with canes, a little weird to see someone so vibrant using one, too. I mean," he eyed you up and down, "you look perfectly healthy in my opinion."

"I don't remember her asking for your opinion," Carmy snapped, arm tightening in irritation to keep you close to his side.

With a sigh, you pet his waist and revealed (a brief and condensed version of) your medical diagnosis, explaining what it meant and what symptoms you were forced to endure all day, everyday. "That good enough for you, sir?" You asked sharply. "Didn't realize medical doctors now did health inspections - bit of a step down, isn't it?"

"I'm not a doctor, I'm just pointing out, you don't look sick to me. I'm wondering why you would use a cane if there's nothing wrong? Look, I know about your illness - I have a niece who has the same condition and she's perfectly fine, doesn't need a cane - "

Carmy snapped, "The fuck are you trying to get at?"

"Carm - "

"No, no, fuck that," he deflected your words, "the fuck is this guy on? Where do you get the audacity to have an opinion on a stranger's health?"

"It's just weird and I'm familiar with the illness," he scoffed, your throat swelling with frustration and strangling any response you might've defended yourself with. Something in your chest warmed with anger, raising your heart rate and blood pressure.

It was as if Carmy could sense this, snapping at the man, "It's not just an 'illness', it's an actual disability, asshole."

"It's literally just an inconvenience, there's not something seriously medically wrong - you'd look a lot worse if there was. I mean, there are other people out there with your condition that don't need a cane or braces, and there's also people who need a cane more than you - "

"Disabilities can be invisible, you fuckin' dumbass," Carmy bristled loudly, making Cousin and the female inspector look over. "You got some nerve, don't you? Trying to have impose an unsolicited opinion on something that has literally nothing to do with you?"

"It was just an observation, sir - "

"That you didn't need to voice. You're being fucking offensive and insensitive, she answered your little questions - which is more than I would've done - so you can fuck off now. Nobody owes you - or anyone else - an explanation about their Goddamn health. It's personal and you're just an asshole for asking a stranger about it. Especially one that was just fuckin' standing here, minding her business - you literally came to her, outta your way, and started attacking her."

"I'm not attacking anyone - "

"We good over here, Cousin?" Richie asked with a growl, stalking over with a glare marring his features; female inspector silently following in obvious discomfort.

"Yeah, Cousin, just this dumb fuckin' asshole harassing Y/N about her cane," Carmy answered, neck and cheeks reddening from his anger. Richie and Carmy narrowed their eyes almost in sync, making the inspector hold his hands up in defense.

"The fuck he say?" Richie snapped.

"That she looks too healthy, how his niece doesn't need a cane and is, also, sick, oh, and that she doesn't need her cane - "

"Why? 'Cause you can't see whatever's physically wrong? So you think she doesn't need extra assistance 'cause you can't outright point at her disability?" Richie barked with anger, a vein bulging and pulsing. "Didn't know we had a doctor in the house, excuse the fuck outta us!"

"I'm not a doctor - "

"Oh, so, just a Karen who offers their opinion nobody asks for?" You finally chimed in after calming your emotions. "Or does that make you a Kevin?"

"No, I think Karen's accurate," Richie nodded at you, hands moving to his hips. "Always sayin' the wrong shit, imposin' themselves, right?"

"Accurate," Carmy snapped, dropping his arm to hold your waist.

"Look, I don't know why you're all getting so defensive! I'm the one with the experience, my niece is sick, too, I'm just trying to understand how you think you're different enough to need a cane," The inspector snapped, "I'm just saying, there's nothing actually wrong with her, my niece has explained the symptoms to me, so why use a cane? For attention?"

"Oh, this fuckin' guy!"

"The fuck did you just say!?"

"Dale," his coworker tried to intervene but was ignored.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!" Richie barked loudly. "Is he fuckin' serious? He bein' serious!?"

"'For attention'?" Carmy repeated over Richie, narrowing his eyes and bunching his brows, "Wow, that's fucking golden! Dude has one family member, had one conversation with her as a patient, and thinks everyone with that condition has the same disadvantages! The same fuckin' symptoms - you fuckin' poser!"

"Fuckin' bitch-ass-loser," Richie still ranted.

"Dumb fuckin' idiot. Who needs the attention now?" Carmy sneered.

"She's too young to need a cane and she doesn't even look - "

"Dale!"

"I think you might wanna fuck off outta here - right fuckin' now," Carmy seethed, "and be prepared when you see your boss next, we're gonna report your dumbass to your superiors. You're being condescending and rude, meddling in someone's health - which isn't remotely any of your business. She was nice enough to answer your stupid fuckin' questions, she even explained what was wrong, but you're still gonna shame her? 'Cause you think she looks fine and healthy?"

"Yeah, time for you to get the fuck out! The more I hear, the more pissed off I feel - get out, goodbye, fuck off, before I make this into a physical altercation," Richie growled, moving forward to coral the inspectors towards the door. He was yelling profanities, the male inspector trying to defend himself and his opinions; still trying to say you must've been faking the need for a cane since there was no way someone who looked like you could need it. The woman was apologizing profusely, but was drowned out over the Chi-Town accents yelling at one another.

When Richie slammed and locked the door, still mumbling to himself in anger, Carmy turned towards you and asked, "You okay, baby? Shit, I'm sorry about that - "

"Don't, hey, it's okay," You soothed.

"It's really not - I mean, Jesus Christ," he seethed, "what the fuck even was that? Twice in one day? Gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me."

"I can't say I'm surprised," you shrugged. "I was warned people get lippy when they see people like me, who don't outright look disabled but still need to use their aids."

"Fuckin' bullshit, that's what it is!" Richie raged in a rant. "How the fuck do you put up with that shit? I'd be swinging that cane around like a fuckin' nunchuck - Jesus - fuck these dickheads! Knock their dumb fuckin' opinionated asses out!"

You paused, slowly perking your brows as Carmy chuckled, "Ah, fuck, you just gave her an idea, Richie, Goddamnit. Am I gonna get a call from the cops to come bail you out after you go on a rampage with your cane as your weapon of choice?" He asked you.

"You might..."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't, dollface," Richie smirked. "But seriously, babe, what the hell? Does that happen often?"

You sighed, admitting, "More than you'd think, more than I'd like to deal with. People don't believe what they can't see, so they can only go based on what they think they know."

"They don't gotta open their fuckin' mouths, though," Carmy shook his head, skin still cherried from his anger. "It's fuckin' rude - "

"People love having their opinions, baby, that won't change," you sighed, squeezing his waist. "But thank you, both of you, for coming to my rescue."

"You don't need rescuing," Richie sighed, hands back to his hips.

"Yeah, we know you had it covered, just fuckin' angered me hearin' that shit," Carmy scoffed. "You shouldn't be the only one defending your health."

"You want me to hit him with my car? Give him a reason to need a cane, too?" Richie offered, the two inspectors seen outside the window at their truck; exchanging heated words, arguing.

You paused to consider his offer with a hum, Carmy barking, "Hey, hey, no, no, no, bad idea, no hitting people with cars!"

"You're missing the point - it's giving that Karen a reason to use a cane, too, and for us to mock him that he doesn't look like he needs it."

"No."

"Bitch-ass."

When Carmy left you two alone to deal with something in the kitchen, Richie smirked and whispered to you, "I'm gonna hit him with my car."

"You're a good friend," you chuckled, his grin genuine as he offered his arm; letting you take it and limp back into the kitchen.

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thebadboyfanclub · 11 months

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The Lover Of The Seven Kingdoms (Tywin x Reader)

First of all, I’m sorry but you cannot tell me anything when it comes to Tom hiddleston being the perfect young Tywin Lannister. Second, I love writing morally grey female characters and I wrote grant maester pycelle and mushroom in cause I wanted to show how a lot of male historians portray women in one way cause it’s just easier.

The lover of the seven Kingdoms” grant maester Pycelle had used as a description of (y/n) Martell, the second wife of Tywin Lannister, the symbol of femininity for a plethora of men in kings Landing, the mother of lord Ezra Lannister and lady Asena, the scandalous twins and one of the few bastards that later became legitimate and inherited Lannisport, then they had three more, lady Nymeria, Lady Zara and Lord Sorin, (y/n) was the secret passion of Tywin since she stepped foot at court, she was to be Joanna’s lady in waiting.

Her appearance was one carved by the Gods, long dark raven hair that curled down to her waist, olive skin, and almost black eyes, her lips thick, and a body as juicy as the fruits of her land, her twin brother Dorian had sent her to Kings landing as a way to show respect and also expand her horizons.

“Princess (Y/n) had relations with one of the bastards of house Dayne when she denied him the man gutted himself in front of her, Doran sends her away to avoid more scandals caused by her lustful appetite”

Mushroom note, Joanna liked her, she was smart and endearing, and she knew how to play her part, however, what Joanna had not taken in mind is that (y/n) stopped at nothing to get what she wants, in this case, it was the young Tywin Lannister, the tall man with muscles everywhere, blue eyes and blonde hair was the subject of desire for a plethora of ladies, none of them had the guts to go after him, (y/n) was not like them, she had her eyes set and the game had begun.

“My lord”

(Y/n) called for Tywin, the hour was quite late but Tywin was the hand of the king, the hour did not matter when they were things he needed to pay attention to, papers to be signed and payments to be settled.

(Y/n) had studied his schedule, Joanna was already in bed and Tywin was free, most of the servants were dismissed so they were no prowling eyes to catch her.

Tywin halted and turned to look at the girl that called for him, she wore a rather sheer dress which was unlikely of hers, Dornish people were always costumed to very light choices in clothing, still, this was a step further, if the candles burned a bit brighter Tywin would have been able to see… well everything.

“Princess (y/n), is there something wrong?”

“No, not exactly, I was hoping to talk to you, in private”

Tywin hesitated, (y/n) was just outside her chamber, she was holding the door open which meant that her choice of privacy was her room, still, curiosity about what it could be that needed to be discussed in such a secretive way was enough for his feet to go one and then the other inside.

(Y/n) closed the door before she spun to rest her back on the wood, a smirk playing on her lips as her plan was going smoother than she expected, the room was decorated in cherry red and gold colors, some orange as well and the intense smell of vanilla and musk took over Tywins senses.

“So, I would prefer it if you started talking”

“Do you like being the hand of the king?”

“You summoned me to ask me if you like my occupation?”

“No, I summoned you because I have a pair of eyes, eyes clear enough to see that something has been bothering you”

“Well I am flattered that the princess cares to ask for my well-being, however, I must go”

“You can’t lie to me Tywin, if it’s not your duty then it has something to do with me, you have been avoiding me, you can’t even look me in the eye”

Tywin once again chose to not speak he only made a b line for the door to which (y/n) was resting, she had managed to think of everything down to reaching for the handle when he did, making their hands touch, Tywin did not pull his away, he let it rest on top of hers as he towered over her and she looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Is it me, my lord? It is my presence that is bothering you?”

“No”

“No? You are breathing quite heavily, your eyes travel below my lips, and… dare I say you could have moved me if you truly wanted to, no one is here, my lord, you can confess to me”

“(Y/n)-“

“Go on, confess”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she gawked at Tywin with lustful eyes with a hint of innocence, she had done this before, Tywin was a mere puppet, a bug that got caught in the spiders' web and was now waiting to experience her poisonous bite.

Her kiss could be described as venom, it made his entire body feel like it was burning and her touch was the only remedy, his addiction started and ended with her, he had been fantasizing about her every night, haunting him like a succubus and stealing the life out of him, at an instant he forgot everything, his wife, his status, his entire life would crumble if someone were to find them, none of it mattered, all that he cared about was to see her, take her.

He took her right on her window, some servants had even reported that they could see the young princess bareback as her moans grew some attention, alas none of them thought something of it, most of the castle had seen a generous amount of men go in and out of (y/n)s chamber at all hours of the night.

Tywin was in utter awe with (y/n), he almost felt like he would faint as he reached his high, it was the only time Tywin considered that (y/n) was a practitioner of dark magic. No other woman had held such power over him in this act.

“My lion”

She had whispered in his ear before she kissed him,(Y/n) was the perfect lover, every night he would slip from his chamber and knock on her door, she would be waiting for him, take him up to the sky, and wrap him with her fire that burned as bright as dragon fire.

Tywin was entirely himself around her, she allowed him to be in control and gave him the euphoric theatrics of prowling on her, which made (y/n) giggle a little, it was refreshing and borderline hilarious to move the strings in the background while Tywin thought he was moving them only because she let him touch them.

“I have exciting news”

“Which is?”

“Princess (y/n) is pregnant, how lovely would it be if we get to marry our children? We could secure Dorne and bind my friendship with her”

“We will do no such thing”

“Tywin, think about it if we-“

“You are forgetting an important thing Joanna, the princess is not married, who knows who the father of that bastard is, my child will not marry anyone of such low status”

What else could he have said? We can’t marry them cause they are siblings? Joanna would be crushed, Tywin had run to her chamber that night, not even bothering to knock as he burst into the room startling her, still once she laid her eyes on him she smiled, she dared to smile as if nothing has happened.

“How dare you announce your pregnancy without even telling me first”

“I thought you had noticed”

“No, I hadn’t and Joanna wants to marry your child with one of our children”

“I am sure we will find a way around it”

“Find a way around it? How are you so calm when the world is crumbling on your feet? You are not married nor betrothed, this child will be declared a bastard”

“This child will be my firstborn, a child created by you and me if you remember, that is all that matters to me”

“Not to the rest of the realm”

“I do not care about the rest of the realm Tywin, that is your problem, it will be royalty in Dorne, I do not care what they call my child here”

“Some said she bathed in goats blood every full moon, she would burn candles and speak in foreign languages to make Tywin stay by her side”

Mushroom claimed, it could be true or just whispers since no one understood the powerful hold that she had on the young lord, Tywin was a fearsome man, calculated and ambitious, yet (y/n) could sway him in any direction she wished with a bat of an eyelash.

It was such a peculiar moment, (y/n) gave birth to twins four moons after her lady Joanna, Ezra and Asena, both of them had their fathers' eyes, sapphires that shined in the light of the sun as (y/n) fed them from her breasts, Tywin had held Asena first, she looked nothing like Cersei still something in him knew that the two girls were born to be each others nemesis, fate had played him like a fiddle.

“I was thinking of going back to Dorne”

“Why?”

“My brother said it is not safe for us, people will talk and I do not want my children to grow up in a venomous environment”

“No, no you will stay, Ezra and Asena Hill has a nice ring to it”

“They are Martells, my love, they shall be called that”

(Y/n) was not ashamed of her children, on the contrary, she adored them and kept them by her side at all times, she taught them how to walk, talk, sing, and dance, a endearing mother with a backbone made of Valyrian steel, a combination made straight out of the seven rings of hell.

“Push, my lady”

“I can’t, (y/n) please make it stop”

“Maester, what is taking so long?”

“The babe has breached, it will not let me pull it out”

“It hurts (y/n)”

“I know, my lady, just one more push”

Joanna fought tooth and nail to survive, unfortunately, her labor did not harvest any fruit for her, the son survived but Lady Joanna did not even get to hold him, grant Maester pycelle held Tyrion and presented him to lord Tywin who was utterly disgusted by the ugly creature.

“That is no son of mine, throw him in the river”

“You will do no such thing”

“This matter does not concern you, princess”

“It does, you may be excused maester”

Pycelle only nodded and left them alone, a strange aura surrounded both of them, Joanna was gone, a deformed babe had taken her life, and (y/n)s belly was ready to pop any minute, what was to be done now?

“Does cruelty excite you?”

“Cersei and Jaime are both healthy and Lannister featured, that… thing could not have been created by me”

“It was not the babes' fault, so I have to remind you that you are also guilty of the thing you are accusing a dead woman of?”

Tywin was a man but that meant little to nothing, if Tyrion was a bastard then there was no difference between him and (y/n)s children, Tywin was in no place to frown upon such an act since he was having another child on the way, a bastard.

“Listen to me, my love, I know you loved Joanna and I loved her too, but the babe survived, it’s the last thing we have from her, grief is a strong emotion, but we have each other to lean on, don’t you want this for us Tywin? for me?”

There it was, her secret weapon, that sweet voice that dripped of honey and the big doe eyes, she knew how to play the damsel in distress down to every detail, Tywin put his lips in before he shook his head in defeat, his wife had departed but his mistress stood before him, demanding a place at his table and life, which he was willing to give her.

Cersei was frantic, the announcement of her father's betrothal to the princess (y/n) and the reaffirmation of her bastard children had brought her to an utmost stage of rage that she was going around her room like a hurricane, she was throwing things and cursing as loud as her lungs allowed it.

How could he do this to her? To her family? That woman had slithered her way into their life like a snake and was now feasting over her mother's dead body, this was just plain disrespectful to her mother.

Tywin found Cerseis handmaidens outside her chamber as the sounds that came from it could put to shame any wild animal, the ladies looked frightened and not one of them dared to go in, however, all of them tried to warn him in leaving the lady be, suggesting that this has probably happened before.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Get out”

“Young lady I advise you-“

“Shut up! I don’t want to listen to you! How could you marry her?! How could you do this to my mother?”

That was the last thing she said before a harsh slap landed on Cerseis's cheek, the girl was taken back by the act since her father had never hit her, he would discipline her but mostly by raising his voice or finding peculiar tricks of punishment, for Tywin to get physical with his daughter meant that she had gone too far.

“You do not get to judge my decisions, you will welcome your brother and sisters and you will be nice to my wife whether you like it or not, did I make myself clear?”

Silence only looks that could kill were exchanged

“Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes Father”

“My love?”

(Y/n) walked into the room, she had heard everything although she chose to reside in the act of being clueless, Tywin had turned away from his daughter and walked to his soon-to-be wife’s side, his hand found hers and brought it up to his lips, (y/n) smiled fondly before she scanned the room with her eyes, a puzzled look on her face as the room was upside down.

“What has happened? Is the young lady alright? The handmaidens were stuttering when I asked about the noises”

“Yes, no need to worry, my dear, Cersei was just redecorating”

“Oh, well if she wishes I can help with that”

“No, no, Cersei is quite specific, she prefers doing things her way, hence this scenery, we should live her”

“As the young lioness wishes, but before we leave”

(Y/n) took a few steps so she can stand ahead of Cersei, Cersei truly felt like a lioness, one that was trapped in a cage to be exact, as much as Cersei wanted to believe she could outsmart anyone (y/n) had years up on the horse, so naturally she was now trotting past Cersei with her caring smile and eyes that lit up, Cersei was left to looking like a kid that threw a tantrum whilst (y/n) looked like a mother that did her best to keep the peace.

“I know you are angry at me, I would be too, I will not try to be your mother, I do however hope that one day you will view me as your ally or your friend even”

(Y/n) went to caress Cerseis cheek which Cersei flinched away from that earned her a cold hard stare from her father, (y/n) only bit her lip in defeat, then it was replaced by a smile of hope, (y/n) genuinely wanted things to go as smooth as possible, to keep all of Joanna's children close to her, it was the least she could do she wasn’t a complete monster, as much as Cersei liked to think of her as one.

“Perhaps it’s too soon, I am asking way too much of you, I hope you have a great day, sweetling”

“Put everything back in its place, now”

Tywin instructed in a stern voice before they exited the chamber that Hurricane Cersei was occupying, Tywin was sure that she would throw something at the door once it was closed and he stood correct when a loud bang was heard.

“She is a young girl that lost her mother, having an attitude with me is inevitable”

“Cersei is not a normal young girl, she has a superiority complex over everyone, our children will not interact with her yet”

“That won’t be a problem, Asena is not… fond of Cersei either”

“I wonder why, let us not think of Cersei right now, it is time for Nymeria to be fed”

“See how beautiful it sounds when it rolls off the tongue? And you wanted to name her Lydia”

Since this babe was the first legitimate child of Tywin and (y/n) he had the suggestion of picking the name of the beloved girl, on the contrary (y/n) was not budging, she was adamant on naming her daughter after the biggest warrior queen Dorne has ever known, her precious Nymeria.

“The princess never wanted to marry lord Tywin, she was far more interested in keeping their relationship private, howbeit Lord Tywin was too consumed by his emotions for her to consider the fact that the princess could have been wed, she simply chose not to”

Grant maester Pycelle added when asked about their wedding. (Y/n) did not care about her children being legitimate or owning land, Dorne was her home, her brother had congratulated her on the birth of her twins and even offered to have them in Dorne, and her family was delighted by (y/n) bringing forth new heirs for the Martells, it was only Tywin that wanted to make it official, to let everyone know that the princess was now cloaked by the lion, her life as the lady of the rock had begun and Dorne had entered a land that they never really thought of earning.

“In a day you will be my wife, therefore, my children’s good mother, I expect them to treat you as such”

“I do not, Tywin they are in mourning, you cannot expect them to make it easy for me”

“I am not dimly witted my dearest, I know they will have some thoughts over our marriage, albeit I will make sure they keep it to themselves”

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somethingvicked · 2 months

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X-rated Education part 1

a Tom Grant (Make Up 2019) x FemReader story.

(warnings - smut, curse words)

Prologue part here

First lesson.

After they arrived at Tom’s trailer he felt himself being back on the edge, fidgeting with his hands.

”Do you... can I get you anything?” he stuttered out before Y/N took his hand and made them sit down.

”Easy, Tom. You don’t have to be nervous. Why don’t you start covering what you have done and feel okay with sexually? Then we can get back to basics and work from that.”

Tom told her about him and Ruth. The more he talked the more embarrassed he felt when he realized how... inexperienced he truly was. They had mostly just covered the missionary and sometimes with her on top.

But when Y/N urged him on, asked if they’d done oral sex he had to admit that no. Ruth had tried a few times on him but... she didn’t know how to keep her teeth out of the way and that hade always made him lose his hard on quicker than an bucket of ice cold water.

Y/N looked at him with an eyebrow raised. ”And you never tried to do it for her?”

Tom looked down in shame. ”No,” he admitted. ”I just... I guess I never really thought about it. Except when she tried to go down on me I always... I was always turned on just by her and I simply thought she felt the same.”

He could practically see how Y/N held back a sigh so to not make him feel worse although he didn’t think it was possible. If the rock bottom of failure had a basement then he was in there, alright.

Then Y/N spoke:

”Okay, first things first. The thing about us women is that not only can it take a while for us to orgasm but it can also take some time for us to be ready for sex. You guys have it easy – you get hard and you’re ready to go. What most of you don’t understand with us women is that yes, we get wet when we want to have sex but the vaginal channel also widens because of the sudden blood flow there.

Sometimes that can take a minute. So don’t go straight for the pussy because even a finger may hurt if she’s not ready. And if it hurts you might have irritated the tissue and it will be uncomfortable later, even if she’s then properly prepared.”

”So give the girl time; kiss, touch. Play with her breasts, kiss them, the neck, the spot beneath the ear... there are so many places that are sensitive that will get her going. You want to try?”

Tom’s eyes widened. ”Yeah,” he breathed out, making it sound like a sigh.

Y/N giggled. ”Go ahead. I’ll give you some tips along the way if you need it.”

Tom moved closer to her, placing his hands on her waist before he leaned in to kiss her.

He had been worried it would feel awkward and fake, but he felt himself melting into the kiss as she reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He felt safe with kissing, knowing that he wasn’t lacking in that area at least. He let his tongue slip inside her mouth, tasting her and already feeling his cock starting to harden. Y/N hummed into the kiss, and he took that as a good sign. As he withdrew from her lips he started started to kiss her jawbone, and down to the spot beneath her ear which she had told him about. That made her humm again, closing her eyes in what looked like bliss. He kissed her neck, sucking carefully as he slid a hand in beneath her shirt, touching the warm skin on her lower back.

Y/N moved one of her hands into his hair, tugging on his curls and that sent a spark through him.

He did exactly as she had instructed, moving to the other side of her neck, nibbling on her earlobe, which made Y/N utter a whimper – that gave Tom a needed ego boost.

Swiftly he pressed his lips to hers again, moaning himself as the kiss turned hungry, all tongue and teeth clicking against each other.

He couldn’t bear to wait any longer, he needed to see more of her. Quickly he raised her arms above her head and pulled her shirt off, his eyes growing big as saucers when he saw the purple, lacy bra that pushed her breasts together, giving a generous cleavage. He dove right in again, kissing from her collarbone, leaving dark marks down to her breast and pulled the cup down. She was perfect – even better than he had imagined. He made a motion to lay her down on the couch, placing his lips over her hardened nipple. Y/N’s hands were still in his hair and she spoke: ”If you want you can tease me a little – wet the nipple with your tongue, flick it back and forth, blow on it before you start sucking on them. Nipples are more sensitive than they seem, they just need to the right stimulation for it.”

He did what she said, teasing her nipple by rubbing them with his thumb, while kneading the other breast, blowing warm air over it as it started to get cold from the air in the room settling over his saliva. Soon he had her arching her back and moaning.

”Yes, Tom, that feels so good!” she purred, making his cock give a persistent twitch. ”Can I take these off?” he wondered, pulling on her jeans.

”Yes, go ahead. I want to see you too,” Y/N told him sitting up and letting him undo her jeans while she went for his belt buckle. It lead to them both laughing as they tried to take the other’s pants off at the same time, getting tangled in each other.

When they had finally gotten rid of both garments Tom felt his mouth water as he caught sight of her purple lace knickers, matching the bra. Was that something she did all the time or had she hoped to get some action tonight? He pushed the thought away, letting his finger slid over the lace. It was damp.

”Is this all for me?” he wondered and she nodded.

”Sure is. Tell me, Tom... do you want to learn how to eat a girl out?”

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#tom grant x reader #tom grant x female reader #tom grant smut #joseph quinn #(se)X-rated education

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ladyfogg · 2 years

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Windswept - Part 2

Windswept – Part 2

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Tom Grant/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Friends to Lovers, Unprotected Sex (reader mentions birth control), Brief Cockwarming, Creampie, Fluff, Hand Job, Oral (Female Receiving), Fooling Around in the Shower because Tom deserves it.

Fic Song: Windswept by Moonfall

A/N: Wanted to do a small follow up to part one since I enjoyed writing it so much. Hope you like it! Right now there are no plans for another part.

The next morning brings gray clouds and a wicked chill in the air.

Tom slowly comes to consciousness, his body wonderfully relaxed and rested for the first time in months. Next to him, he feels the warmth of someone else and when he drags his eyes open, he finds you curled under the comforter. He thinks of the night before, of the confessions and promises. You’d stayed awake talking for hours, like you two have done countless times except this time was different. This time Tom could kiss you, touch you, this time you both were naked, wrapped around each other so tight it was hard to tell where he ended and you began.

This time, you made plans for the future. A future, together. He’s already told you he’d travel with you, that he wants to marry someday. Is it too early to talk about such things? Probably. He doesn’t care.

Smiling, Tom takes the time to admire your sleeping form. Your back is to him so he has to push himself up onto his elbows in order to see your face. You’re still fast asleep. He’s already committed every feature to memory, yet can’t help staring at your serene, restful expression. Bloody hell, how had he not realized how much he loved you?

Right now, in the dull light of the early morning, it’s so obvious.

Tom thinks back on your friendship and how there was always something else there, something he never could put his finger on. Or didn’t dare to. The excitement he always felt hearing your voice, the anticipation he’d get when he saw your name on the list for future arrivals, how in the year you two were separated his thoughts constantly strayed to you and what you might be doing. All those instances pointed to deeper feelings. And true, he thought he had loved before and he knows he had, but this is different. This is something else entirely. What he feels for you is nothing like what he felt for Ruth.

Tom slides closer and spoons up behind you, curling his body protectively around yours. He hugs you, closing his eyes as he buries his face in your neck. He’s determined to lay there for as long as possible. There’s nowhere to be, no one around to bother either of you. Tom can lay like this forever if he wants.

Alright, maybe not forever but definitely for the foreseeable future.

Smiling to himself, he settles in and closes his eyes. For the next few hours he dozes on and off, while you stay right there in his arms. His mind weaves in and out of dreams, occasionally focusing on you, making sure you’re still with him. Once he’s sure you are, he settles and drifts off again. Eventually, he’s roused awake when you start to shift.

With a sleepy groan, you stretch, your body pressing firmly against his chest in the process. Tom takes full advantage, laying kisses on the back of your neck and letting his hand glide over your hip, and up your chest so he can grasp your breast.

“G’morning,” he says in your ear.

“Good morning,” you chuckle in response. Your backside presses into his morning erection. “And good morning to you as well.”

Tom kisses, squeezes, and thrusts, the desire for you somehow stronger than it was last night. His mind spins with all the dirty things he wants to do to you, all the things he wants to try and experience. Things he enjoys and is desperate to share with you, and things he’s never had a chance to do.

His hand starts to travel downward while his arm slides underneath you so he can hold you in place. When his finger teasingly dips between your legs, you gasp.

“Wasting no time this morning, huh, love?” you ask. Already you’re breathless and it sends a thrill of desire through him.

“Do you want me to stop?”

You moan at the press of his fingertips to your nub. “Not at all. Keep going.”

Biting his lip in excitement, Tom continues his exploration. With his mouth kissing and nibbling at your throat, his finger slides through your folds. He remembers the night before, remembers how you taste, how you feel on his tongue and he finds himself thirsting for more.

He’ll get there. Right now, he wants to touch.

It doesn’t take long for you to grow wet. He listens to the way your breathing hitches, feels your body shudder, and it makes Tom’s heart race. The confidence that had been so brutally shattered months ago returned in one evening. One spectacular evening. There is no hesitation from him this time, no second-guessing or wondering. He knows that you’re enjoying this

“God, Tom,” you moan, your hips gyrating back and forth, moving along with his teasing fingers. “I love the way you touch me.”

He smiles against your skin, inhaling your scent that now hangs around him like a cloud. Teeth gently digging into your throat, he slides two fingers into you, fire settling low in his belly at the way you gasp his name.

Your slick walls flutter around his digits, encouraging him, calling to him.

His mind goes back to what it felt like to sink into your heat, to have those same walls grip his cock. And as he strokes your insides, he imagines all the ways he wants to have you, not just how but where. Here in his bed again for sure, but also in your trailer, on the beach, in the shower, in your home, your true home, the one you exiled yourself to for the last twelve months. Tom doesn’t care where your job takes you. He’s going along until you both find a place to settle, a place you both can call home.

Lips brushing your ear, he briefly trace’s the shell with his tongue. “And I love the way you feel. I’m going crazy just touching you.”

His other hand squeezes your breast while his cock is pressed into your backside, begging for attention. He’s ignoring it, too intent on seeing if he can make you cum. It’s no longer a question of “if” per se, it’s more a matter of how long it’ll take.

You reach up to tangle your hand into his disheveled hair, tugging on the curls. “Only fair since you’ve driven me completely insane for years.”

Tom can’t imagine. Can’t even wrap his head around the fact that you managed to keep these feelings, this passion, to yourself for so long. It is no wonder you left.

“I need you inside me,” you groan, knocking the wind out of him and sending his mind reeling.

No, don’t think about that. Don’t think about how you lost her, he tells himself, sucking at your throat, dragging another series of moans out of you.

Tom moans in return, his hand slipping out from between your legs. He was going to hold off but there’s no way he can deny that begging tone. He shoves the blankets away before reaching down to grip his cock. Automatically, you lift your leg, giving him the space he needs to slide into you from behind. Your moan drowns his out as your body curls forward, your hand gripping the pillow beneath your head.

Hips rolling back and forth, Tom takes you just like that, mouth continually kissing and sucking at your throat and shoulder. It’s as phenomenal as the night before. You’re squeezing and fluttering walls make it impossible for him to pull out too far before he’s eagerly surging back in. He presses you onto your stomach and lays his hand over yours, slotting your fingers together while he fucks you into the mattress.

The room fills with the sounds of labored breathing and eager moans.

Eyes closed, Tom grinds into that delicious heat he’s quickly become obsessed with. His mouth glides over any bit of skin he can find, kissing, sucking, and nibbling your silken flesh. You moan his name repeatedly in an erotic chant that makes his head spin.

He can tell right before you cum when your hand squeezes his. Your walls flutter around his cock and he groans your name over the sound of his lap slamming repeatedly against your backside. He’s still going when you become boneless, absolutely pleased with himself that he’s managed to make you cum this time without even touching you. Fuck you’re so wet and he’s so lost in the pleasure you’re giving him that he knows it’s not going to take much longer for him.

Sitting back on his knees, he grips your hips, watching his cock slide in and out. When he glances up, he finds you staring at him over your shoulder, pupils blown wide and teeth digging into your bottom lip. He has to kiss you, has to feel your mouth as he nears his end. Laying over you once more, he snags that bottom lip, giving it a gentle tug as he finishes.

He slams into you one more time and stays there, emptying every drop of his release into your limp body.

Gasping for breath, he collapses against your back, panting into your sweat-slicked skin. You take his hand and he feels your lips brush against his knuckles as you cover them with soft kisses. Tom draws away just enough to slip out of you so you can turn to face him. Mouths collide in a proper kiss when you do. He settles his weight on top of you, humming with delight as you wrap your legs around him. Even though he’s softening, he manages to slip back into you with relative ease, thanks to the wetness he left behind.

Between kisses, he catches his breath, wills his heart to stop slamming into his chest like it’s trying to break free. There in the quiet afterglow, Tom’s rational mind kicks back in.

“Shite,” he huffs, eyes wide with concern as he draws his head back. “I didn’t wrap up.” It only dawns on him as he lays there, enjoying the way you feel around him.

Your smile sets his nerves at ease. “We’re good,” you say. “Got it covered on my end.”

Tom relaxes. It’s the first time he’s ever gotten so caught up in the moment that his common sense went out the window. “That’s a relief,” he says before his face breaks into a grin. “Does that mean we can go like this all time?”

“If you mean can you cum inside me the answer is always going to be yes.”

“You’re amazing.”

Giggling, you pull him into another kiss. Giddy and thoroughly spent, Tom leisurely kisses you back and the two of you remain that way for a time, until he hears your stomach grumble.

“I’m starving,” you say as Tom finally rolls over next to you.

His body protests at the loss of your heat but he knows he’ll find himself back inside you soon. “Not sure what I’ve actually got to eat. Here, let me check.”

Easing himself out of bed, Tom doesn’t bother throwing clothes on. He gives one big stretch before shuffling into the kitchen to check the state of his cabinets. It’s only then that he remembers he hasn’t gone shopping in weeks and aside from the spaghetti that was made last night and half a blueberry pie, there’s not much else to eat.

“How’s it looking in there?” you call from the bedroom.

“Let’s see we have a mostly empty box of cereal.” Tom closes the cabinet and opens the refrigerator. “Some milk that’s gone bad and…one egg.”

You laugh as he walks back into the bedroom. “So much for not leaving this bed,” you say.

Tom smiles, admiring the way you look in said bed. You’re exactly where he left you: sprawled out on your back with the sheets sliding onto the floor. His eyes are drawn to the mess he left between your legs. It’s a mental image he knows he’ll never be free of. Likewise, you eye his naked frame with appreciation, smirking as you shamelessly stare.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” you purr. Your stomach growls again and you huff in annoyance as Tom laughs. “After we get food of course. Luckily, my place is fully stocked.”

Tom crawls over your body to prevent you from sitting up. “But that would require moving and putting clothes on.”

“Yeah but then once we eat we can take the clothes off again. Maybe even get in the shower.”

It’s like you can read his mind. “I love the way you think.”

“I’m glad. Now can you get me a towel or something so I can clean up.”

Tom does just that and while you put on your clothes, he shuffles through the mess that is his room in an attempt to find something comfortable to wear. The only thing he really has is what he wore last night so he puts the jeans and white shirt back on. While you retrieve your socks and shoes, he throws several pairs of boxers and his work clothes into a bag, as well as his toiletries.

“What’s all that for?” you ask, sitting down so you can tie your shoes.

“If I’m going to your place I’m going to make damn sure I have what I need so I don’t have to leave for a while.”

The smile that you give him makes his heart skip a beat. “Great idea, though you should do laundry at some point. Your closet is empty.”

“It’s not like I’m going to need clothes anytime soon.”

Laughing, you lovingly shake your head.

Stepping outside is like a punch to the gut. It’s colder than Tom realized and he instantly wishes you two had stayed put. However, he’s also starving and knows if you are going to fool around some more, he’s going to need to refuel. Holding hands and laughing like children, you two run through the park towards your trailer. Between the early hour and lack of guests, no one is around. It’s like you’re the only ones who exist and Tom loves it. Once you’re back inside, you immediately kick out of your shoes and put the kettle on.

“Eggs, bacon, and warm rolls coming right up,” you say, moving about the kitchen.

You’d unpacked and the trailer looks as it used to before you left. It conjures warm memories of the past and makes Tom smile, reminds him that you’re settling in for a time. While you cook, he sets the table and gets your tea ready. Soon, he’s shoveling scrambled eggs and bacon into his mouth as you spread jelly on a roll you warmed in the oven.

“Bloody hell I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Tom says, leaning back in his chair and savoring the meal. Aside from the dinner last night, this is the first real food he’s eaten in a while. Lately, he’d been making do with frozen meals and cereal, not having the energy or effort to do more.

“Well, we did work up quite the appetite.”

He smirks at you and rubs his foot against yours under the table. “And we’re going to work up another one after we’re done eating.”

“Absolutely. Although, I actually do have to get some kind of writing done today.”

“Boooooo.”

“I know, I know. But my agent is on my case about this and I’ve been dragging my feet. Thankfully, I’m feeling incredibly inspired all of a sudden.”

Tom smirks, licking the jelly from his fingers as he meets your eye. “I’m going to give you enough inspiration to last a lifetime.”

Your gaze softens. “You already have.”

You two finish breakfast and Tom clears the plates while you slip away to the bedroom. He finds you hanging his work clothes in the closet, fussing with the wrinkles. It's adorably domestic and his heart can’t take the way you put his boxers in one of your empty drawers. It sounds silly to feel emotion over such a trivial thing but it means the world to him. You’re making space, adding him into your life without him even asking. When you turn to face him, he pulls you into a tight hug. He wishes words could express the depth of his gratitude. But words aren’t his thing, they’re yours. So he’ll let his body do the talking instead.

Drawing back, he cups your face as he kisses you, trying to pour all his thoughts and feelings into one simple act. He feels you smile, and when he breaks away, your eyes are hooded with desire and promise.

“Want to take a shower together?” you ask.

“More than anything in the world.”

Still smiling, you take his hand and lead him into the bathroom.

Clothes are discarded as the water heats up. Once in the shower, Tom can’t keep his hands to himself. He has to touch you, to feel every inch of your wet skin as your mouths moving together urgently. Lathering his hands with soap, he rubs them all over your body as you do the same to him, running your hands down his chest and teasingly squeezing his cock.

Tom thinks of the night of your arrival, of how he touched himself to thoughts of you and he realizes you’re unknowingly making his fantasy a reality. He presses a hand to the wall behind you, trapping your body with his. Though, is it really a trap when you want to be there? Probably not.

Your hand is still wrapped around his cock, and this time instead of teasing, you look him in the eye and start to stroke him. Tom moans, cradling the back of your head as he yanks you into a searing kiss.

Now you’re exploring, taking your time with each stroke, swiping the head of his cock with your thumb to see how he reacts. He can’t breathe, can’t think. All he can do is stand there as his knees buckle, your hand bringing him close to the edge with each firm tug. He doesn’t believe it, can’t understand how his body is already bouncing back so quickly after your earlier shag. It must be you. Has to be. You’d always had a hold in his heart and now that he’s acknowledged it, his body is racing to catch up.

“I have a confession,” you say into his ear, lips brushing the lobe.

“W’at’s that?” Tom slurs, eyes fluttering closed as he surrenders to the pleasure.

“The other night, after you kissed me and left, I touched myself because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Tom whimpers. In the past he might have been embarrassed by such a needy sound but right now he’s not. “Was that the first time?” he asks, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

Once again he feels your smile, this time against his throat as you pepper it with kisses. “Not even close.”

Fuck.

Tom’s mind is bombarded with images of you laying in the same bed that’s just beyond the door, your hand between your legs as you writhe and moan his name. How many times, he wonders. How many times were you right there and he had no idea? How many times had you dreamt this scenario, wanted him to touch and kiss you?

How many times did your heart shatter waiting for him?

The idea that he caused you any amount of pain is too much to bear. Yesterday, he would have let it get to him, would have let it drag him down into dark thoughts. But today is a new day, a new beginning and instead of kicking himself over what might have been, he’s determined to focus on what’s going to be.

It doesn’t take him much longer to cum. It’s all too good to hold back. Your hand sends him toppling over the edge and he groans your name, thrusting into your palm. Dragging his eyes open, he looks down to watch himself coat your thighs with his release. It invokes the same feelings he had before when he saw you spread out with his cum leaking from between your legs.

His. You’re all his. And he’s unquestionably yours.

Kissing you harshly, he reaches down and spreads the remnants of his cum all over you. He knows it’ll be washed away in seconds but he still does it, still takes the chance to mark his territory in some weird, twisted way. If you mind, you don’t say anything. On the contrary, your arms circle his neck and you kiss him back just as hungrily as he’s kissing you.

Now, it’s his turn to make you feel good.

Tom breaks the kiss to fall to his knees. He needs to show you again how much he wants you, needs to worship the body that’s now taken control of his mind. The body that waited so patiently for him to get his shit together.

Spreading your thighs apart, he buries his face between your legs, tongue eagerly swiping through your folds. It’s just as good as the night before, even better because he can taste himself and it reminds him of earlier.

You moan, back hitting the shower wall as the action makes you stumble. Tom holds tight, won’t let you go even for a second, not when he’s where he’s been dying to be since last night. You prop one foot on the edge of the tub to give him more space, to spread yourself open so he can reach all of you. His mouth hungrily devours, humming with enthusiasm at the reactions he’s dragging out of you.

One of your hands slips uselessly across the tile wall while the other buries into his wet curls.

Lost in your taste and the steam of the shower, Tom closes his eyes and gives himself over to sensation and instinct. He swears to take care of you this way whenever he has the chance. He wants to make you gasp and moan as many times as he physically can. And the way the breath escapes your lungs when he sucks greedily as your nub makes his head spin.

He pictures having you like this on the beach. There’s a bluff he knows about, one away from everything. When the weather is warmer, he’ll take you there. He’ll peel off your bathing suit, lay you on a large fluffy towel, and kiss you between your legs as your moans are drowned out by the ocean waves. Then, he’ll make love to you while the sex and sun warms your bodies.

For now, while the winter settles in, he’ll have you sit on the couch and he’ll sink between your legs, eating you out for as long as either of you can manage. How many times can he make you cum like this? He can’t wait to find out.

By the time your pleasure peaks, the shower’s gone cold. Your body is teaming with goosebumps as you cry him name for the final time, walls clamping down around his fingers while he tongues your swollen clit.

Tom gives you more lazy kisses before he stands, letting the water clean his face for a moment before he reaches to blindly turn it off. You hug him, just hug him, standing there dripping wet with your bodies pressed tight. He returns the embrace, his smile never once wavering. Chilly and tired, the two of you hurry to dry yourselves and slip into comfortable clothes. Well, you put on clothes. Tom puts on a fresh pair of boxers and nothing else.

Thoroughly satisfied at the moment, Tom tries to figure out what to do with him himself now that you have to work. You settle into the corner of the couch with your laptop, a fresh cuppa on the small end table and your feet propped on an ottoman.

Tom lays next to you, his head against your thigh since your lap is occupied by your computer. Before he gets comfortable, he wraps himself in one of your fuzzy blankets. While you type, he scans the channels, trying to find something to watch on the telly. Inevitably, his eyes droop and he concludes a nap is a much better idea. The weather is still gray and windy, the perfect setting for a long lazy day.

Like he had done earlier, he dozes for a time, lulled to sleep by the steady tapping of the keyboard. Occasionally, it stops and your hand strokes his hair as you read back what you wrote. Tom smiles, feeling content and loved.

Laying there with you, knowing he’s present in your mind even while you work has his heart swelling. If this is what awaits him in the future, he’s all for it. Hours later, when you’ve written enough and curl up to join him in his napping, he knows that he’ll never feel lonely again so long as you’re in his life.

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant x female reader #tom make up #joe quinn make up #joseph quinn make up #make up 2019 #joe quinn #joseph quinn

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littlelioncub43 · 10 months

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happy tech tuesday! today i'm thinking about tom grant's head on my lap. play with his pretty curls for two minutes, and the boy's out like a light. 🥰

Ah! Bestie! I am in the mood for the fluff! Thank goodness you sent this 🥰

A cold rain fell from the gloomy English sky, the arhythmic beat of the droplets on the roof of your shared trailer was the perfect background noise for your weekend. The TV was on whatever shitty action movie Tom had found flipping through the channels, and both of you were cuddled up on the couch, sweats and jumpers on to battle the cold that seeped in from outside.

"Like he could jump from 3 stories up and not at least break an ankle," you hear Tommy criticize with a chuckle, his head had found itself in your lap at least 10 minutes ago.

"I know! And then he got away? Yeah, right," you giggle at the ridiculous movie, rubbing your hand resting on his shoulder. It started off with circles on his back, just feeling the addictive warmth that radiates off of his broad shoulders while he relaxes even more into you. Then your hands glide up his neck and into the soft curls on his head.

"Your hair is so pretty, Tommy," you murmur honestly, a small smile tugging at his lips at your compliment.

"Yeah?" Is all he can say in a weakening voice when you start to massage his scalp, your pretty fingers raking through his hair and twirling a few ringlets lovingly.

"Yeah," you whisper and continue on, your eyes back on the TV while your fingers continue their little massage. The main character fights off 15 bad guys with nothing but his tie, and you can't help but giggle and shake your head, "what movie even is this?"

When you glance at Tommy, you find him out like a light. His plush lips were parted as he breathes steadily, his eyes shut gently as he rests. My god, he was so fucking precious. You beam down at his sleeping face, grateful that your words didn't wake him.

"Sweet dreams, baby."

#tech tuesday will be fun #tech tuesdays #tech tuesday #tom grant x reader #tom grant x female reader #tom grant x fem!reader #tom grant x you #tom grant fluff #tom grant #tom grant make up 2019 #make up 2019 #little lion literature

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thebiggerbear · 4 months

Text

CJ Braxton x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: You had only meant to call once, remaining anonymous while feeling out the whole helpline thing for yourself. Now, you talk to CJ every Friday night around the same time. When you don't call one Friday, CJ is worried and comes looking for you which presents its own host of problems.

Pairing: CJ Braxton x Female!Reader; CJ Braxton x College Student!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I initially wasn't going to write anything for CJ but this idea popped into my head for this prompt and I just had to write it. And I absolutely fell in love with the dynamic between CJ and the reader (and had so much fun with this). Please forgive any timeline tomfoolery or anything time wise that makes you go "huh?"; I was trying to make this work throughout the season from CJ's entry into the show (and his conversation with Jen about the helpline) to the end.

I wasn't much of a Dawson's Creek person back in the day (I still haven't seen seasons 2-5), so I hope this came out alright. I tried to keep it as 2000-ish as possible. I remember back in the day not everyone had a cell phone like Dawson, Audrey, and Pacey (though a lot of people were getting them moving into the beginning of the decade) so that rule kind of applied here so to speak.

This is meant to take place during s6 before Jen joins The Stand.

Warnings: implied sex; panic attacks; implied anxiety

Word Count: 15k+

CJ Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

<-->

You glanced at the clock, seeing it was 6:59. One more minute and you’d pick up the phone as you did every Friday night and make the call you always did. Your nerves thrummed in anticipation as you stared down the clock, willing the numbers to turn.

Eventually, you got your wish and as soon as the 7 appeared on the clock face you picked up the phone, dialing the number you now knew by heart. After a few rings, the call finally connected.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

“There she is.” You could hear his own smile in his tone as he recognized you. “How are you, Jo?”

You winced at the fake name you had given him. At the time, you had quickly scrambled and chose the first name that came to mind. Granted, Joey Potter was in the same school as you so you weren’t too worried about him finding out about either of you seeing as he was from Boston Bay. But as you had talked with him more and more, you really wished you hadn’t given him any name but your own. Even if you were beyond terrified; you felt bad for lying to him.

Why should it matter, right? He was a volunteer counselor for a teen helpline at another college. Why would you care what this one person thought out of you?

Well, unbeknownst to him, you had seen him once and you knew who he was. Thanks to Joey and Audrey’s friendship with Jen, you had come to hear quite a bit about the cute tall guy whose voice made your heart rate speed up way too fast. Jen had even invited him out to a house party and that was when you saw him for the first time. Your nerves got to you and you bounced before one of your friends could make an introduction. Partly because you were afraid he would recognize you from your voice and immediately put a face to the name and possibly be disappointed or worse: he’d know you lied to him. So you avoided him at all costs — well, in person.

It wasn’t like you had planned for this to happen, where you would call a helpline weekly just to speak to a certain boy. That’s not how this started at all.

When you got to Worthington, you were homesick, overwhelmed, and overall terrified. While you eventually eased into the college student lifestyle and Boston was now home, you never really got past the overwhelmed feeling, and terrified had dialed down to being anxious all the time: anxious that you would mess up, anxious that you would fail, anxious that your future wouldn’t turn out the way you planned — all of it. There were days you felt like you were just scraping by, barely making a passing grade (though your final grade usually proved you wrong), and you felt like you were some sort of imposter who was soon to be found out and didn’t really belong. Meeting Joey and her roommate, Audrey Liddell, who lived down the hall from you, helped some, and their introducing you to their group of friends helped even more. But there were still times that you just felt…tightly wound and about to snap. As if you had too many balls in the air and you were about to trip, and all the balls would fall to the ground.

So when Jen mentioned to the group about some guy wanting her to join a teen helpline for the college, you quietly paid attention. She laughed it off — his approach, not the helpline — and she didn’t think she would be right for it so that was that. While everyone else began to talk and laugh about another topic, the wheels in your head slowly started to turn inside your head. A helpline where you could remain anonymous and talk to someone who would listen and could possibly even help. You knew your school most likely had one of those but you wouldn’t even dream of risking it. But a helpline elsewhere where you could talk to someone who maybe understood how you were feeling most of the time, maybe experienced similar things, and you were able to stay anonymous? That you could look into.

After much back and forth in your mind over it, you took the leap and made the call one Friday night after a particularly rough week. You really didn’t think anyone would pick up, it was close to 7:00 and most college kids were either out or getting ready to go out…right?

Before you could answer your own question to yourself, the line connected.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You did what any other person would do; you promptly hung up. You stared at your phone in terror. Someone had picked up. A guy. Just when you were convincing yourself that this was stupid and you needed to take a chill pill and deal.

You argued with yourself in your head for about another minute, hemming and hawing over it all. Wasn’t the whole point of you calling to try to do something about how you’d been feeling? You supposed you could always see a therapist here in town but that could be costly, even with insurance. You also had no desire to tell your parents because they would respond the same way they did the last time you tried to allude to how overwhelmed you were when you had returned home for the summer.

“You should be grateful you got into such a great school, Y/N. Most people would kill to be in your position, going after their degree. You don’t see your classmates moping about, do you? Just because they have classes and homework,” your mother had made sure to prick you with that pin of guilt. “Make the best of it.”

“You know what I think? I think you need to get yourself some friends and then you’ll stop focusing on this so much. If you have nothing to fill your time, of course your mind is going to obsess over what you’re viewing as negative. Try to join a club or a social group. They have keggers all the time. I remember back when I was in college. It was party city every weekend. Maybe let loose a little one of these Saturday nights and things will start to get better. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even make some friends.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you mumbled, tossing your overeasy egg onto its side with your fork, your eyes trained on your plate. You knew he was just trying to help — they both were — but their attitude seemed to imply that you could simply hit an off switch somewhere and you’d stop feeling so overwhelmed. If only.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to take their advice. You had gone to some frat party and it had been one of the worst experiences of your life. You weren’t a big drinker and you weren’t really a party person in general. You didn’t really recognize anyone from your classes or your dorm and the music was so loud, it seemed like a ridiculous notion to try to approach someone and start a conversation. Not something you were very good at anyway. You had no idea how to play the drinking games you saw, other than what you’d seen on TV, and you didn’t want to do something to mess up anyone’s scores if you didn’t do it right. Then some hulk of a guy accidentally knocked into you, deluging you in beer, and he was so drunk, he didn’t even apologize, just kept on going. After about an hour (and the unintended beer bath), you decided to call it quits.

That night, you had gone back to your dorm room which was blissfully empty, taken a hot shower, and then sobbed into your pillow. So much so that when a drunken Audrey accidentally stumbled into your room, she saw your tear-stained face when your head snapped up and immediately asked what was wrong and why you were crying in her room of all things. Despite the back and forth over whose room it actually was and her drunken state along with the slurring of her words, you two actually kind of hit it off. Before long she had you laughing, something you felt like you hadn’t done in some time. She passed out in your roommate’s bed, much to your roommate’s chagrin, but when Audrey’s boyfriend and roommate came to get her the next morning, you figured that had been it. Your one social interaction with someone who didn’t look at you as an unwanted intruder every single day (like your roommate) or like you were some loner weirdo (like most of your classmates). You knew that Audrey would probably either ignore you the next time she ran into you or she wouldn’t remember you at all.

Boy, had you been wrong. The day after her hangover, she had been knocking on your door, smiling and telling you that you were going out with her for the night. Just like that. She introduced you to her roommate, Joey, and their group of friends. You had been inducted into their group of friends, just like that.

Eventually, Jen mentioned the helpline that one night and now here you were, staring at the phone as if it was about to come to life and do a dance or something. You waited a few more minutes, deciding you’d try again and hopefully get someone else. There couldn’t be only one person answering phones at a helpline, could there? That would make for some backed up phone traffic and not a good look for a helpline at all. Maybe you’d be lucky and the guy would have already had another caller he was speaking to so another counselor would have to pick up.

When the clock turned to 7:11, you slowly picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the number again. You began to jiggle your leg as you waited for the line to connect.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

Oh crap. You froze.

“Hello?”

What did you do? You wanted to hang the phone up again but you were unable to.

“Hello?” He asked again.

No. You were going to be a mature adult about this and answer him. Just as soon as you could breathe. You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and exhaled a breath.

“Look, if you’re in trouble or can’t talk, just hit a button. Any button will work.” A minute passed while you were trying to breathe, getting ready to talk. “If you don’t have a crisis and you’re not calling to speak to someone here, then I think you should hang up and let other people who need us call in. No use in tying up the phone lines.”

Another minute passed. You really were trying your hardest to get words out but your chest was tight and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your heart was racing yet you were frozen. This happened sometimes but usually you were by yourself, not with someone waiting for you to speak on the other end of the phone line. It also happened a couple of times while you were out with your friends, but usually you hid out in a bathroom stall until it passed and then you left to go back to your dorm with the excuse of a test the next day or a project due, whatever you could come up with on the fly. You didn’t understand why it was happening to you right now, though.

“Alright, I’m going to hang up now.”

You smashed a key on your phone so fast that you heard a loud annoying sound in your ear. Immediately, the guy’s tone changed.

“Okay, I’m here. If you’re in trouble, hit the key again. If you’re not but can’t talk at the moment, don’t hit it.”

You didn’t hit any more keys and gasped for air that just wasn’t coming.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. Is someone in the room with you and that’s why you can’t talk? If so, hit the key again.”

You moved over to your bed and laid down. That was the fastest way to get your body to relax when you had the option you’d found out.

“Okay, so you’re alone but you can’t talk but you’re not in trouble. Can you just try to say one word or make a sound so I know you’re really okay?”

You removed your hand from the mouthpiece. “T-Trying,” you rasped out. Holy crap, this was a bad episode you were having. You were completely mortified. Perhaps you really should hang up. You were worried, though, that now he might notify someone or think you really were prank calling the helpline. Either way, you were bound to get in trouble and even more embarrassed, and that just made your chest tighter.

“Okay. That’s good. I’ll take that. Do you have asthma or something similar?”

Great. That’s how bad you’d sounded; he thought you might actually have some sort of breathing issue. Well, technically, you were struggling to breathe right now so it made sense that he would think that but if he only knew the actual answer was something that was beyond ridiculous and couldn’t be explained away as something as serious as asthma.

“No,” you whispered, rubbing at the spot in your chest where a mix of discomfort and a heavy-rock-feeling sat.

“And you’re sure you don’t need to go to the hospital to get checked out?” He sounded concerned now.

“No,” you repeated, staring up at your ceiling, your vision blurring with building tears. All you wanted to do was give this helpline thing a shot since nothing else seemed to be working, and here you had gone and made it so much worse. On top of that, you were frustrated that you couldn’t even do something as simple as answer a person when they said hello on a phone call that you made to them. What was wrong with you?

“Okay. That’s good. Why don’t I talk for a minute so you can relax?” A tear slipped down your cheek when you realized he must have heard your heavy exhales over the phone. “Like I said before, my name is CJ. I’ve been with the helpline for a while now. I’m here four days a week. I try to schedule shifts around my classes and pick up a few extra when I’m able. Before you called, I was doing some reading for my Philosophy class. It’s not my major but I had to take another humanities course. It was that or religion so…philosophy it was.”

You closed your eyes and focused on his voice. It was actually very soothing and it was helping.

“Between you and me, I’m not the best student.” Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling, listening intently. “I mean, I do okay in terms of grades, but I’m not exactly a frequent flier on the Dean’s list.” He chuckled and after a moment, he asked, “How about you?”

You swallowed, feeling the slightest bit of easing up on your chest, almost if it was allowing the words through. “I do okay.” You didn’t sound as raspy as before but you still had a faint wheeze at the end. You were coming out of this, slowly but surely.

“That’s good. College sure isn’t easy, by any means. When midterms roll around, I always get a little more stressed. I usually have to blow off some steam to keep it all balanced, you know? Or else I get easily overwhelmed. I have to remind myself to take it one class at a time, one day at a time. But easier said than done sometimes, right?”

“Right.” You knew what he was doing but since it seemed to be helping, you played along. He was getting to the heart of the issue while also giving you time to come back down. You’d only been on the phone with him for close to ten minutes and already you felt much better than you had when the call started.

“How are you feeling? Any better?”

“A little.”

“Good.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “Is my being the one to talk helping any?”

“Actually…yeah,” you breathed out.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You bit at your lip, not really wanting to admit it, but you had called for this very reason, hadn’t you? “Yeah.”

“Around midterms or anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Even when you’re not in school?”

“Sometimes,” you whispered. “But mostly when I’m here.”

“So school related then?”

“Kind of.”

He was quiet for a moment and you wondered if you had said something wrong or if he was looking instructions up in a pamphlet or something for this sort of thing.

“Hey, did you see Phantom Menace when it came out last year?”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected to switch gears so quickly. “Um, no?”

“You’re not a Star Wars fan, I take it?”

He didn’t sound disappointed so you chalked that up to being a good thing. Most guys you’d met either were completely into Star Wars or weren’t into it at all. “I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan but I’ve seen the original movies.”

“Uh oh, you’re not one of those prequel snobs, are you?” He teased.

“No? I just saw the trailer and I wasn’t interested.”

“Well, a buddy of mine and I went to see it when it came out. The theater was packed. I’m talking bursting at the seams.” A small smile started to creep onto your face at his energy. “And when the lights went down and the opening credits started rolling and the music started up, everyone was cheering and clapping. It was pretty awesome. My buddy ended up loving it. He’s the biggest Star Wars fan you’ve ever met.” A moment later he asked, “So besides anything in a galaxy, far far away, have you seen any other movies that came out?”

“I went to see The Green Mile. My, uh, my dad is a big Tom Hanks fan and a Stephen King fan so he really wanted to go.”

“And you?”

“I liked it. Though it was sad.”

“I didn’t see it yet but I got the feeling that it was going to be a bit of a heavy one.”

“It was, but it was worth it.” You noticed then that you were talking to him normally, you were breathing normally, your chest was still a little tight but that was to be expected, and you were sitting up with your back to the wall. You had gotten through your latest episode and this CJ had helped. Perhaps there was something to this helpline thing after all.

“I’m definitely going to check it out then. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he then said, “You sound a lot better than earlier. Hopefully, you’re feeling better, too?”

“Um, yeah.” You anxiously tucked your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for earlier, by the way. You know, being patient…”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Right.”

“So, you feel up to telling me what’s going on and why you called tonight or did you want to talk about something else?”

You bit at your thumbnail, unsure. “I feel bad. I’ve taken up so much of your time already.” You glanced at the clock and saw that you had been on the phone with him now for almost half an hour.

“Don’t worry about the time and I don’t want you feeling badly.” He sounded completely genuine when he said it and it made you feel a little bit better about monopolizing his time like this. “This is why I’m here. So, if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

You still weren’t certain you should take him up on his offer. “Are you sure? What if there’s someone else who needs to call in who is having an actual crisis and you’re stuck on the phone with me? I would feel bad if they didn’t get to talk to you when they needed to because of me.”

“I’m not the only one here so if someone else does call in, they’ll speak to one of the other counselors who can help them. While we’re on the subject, what you’re experiencing is just as valid as what anyone else might be experiencing. I’m not stuck on the phone with you, I want to be talking with you and try to help you in any way I can. And yes, I’m sure.”

You contemplated it, turning it over and over in your brain. This was why you called. This was why you decided to give the helpline a try, to speak to a stranger who would listen and possibly be able to help you and if not, at least maybe understand where you were coming from. If he was willing (and he had been helpful so far), then why not?

“Would it help if I promise not to make any more Star Wars references?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Tremendously.”

“Deal,” he laughed. You liked the sound of his laugh; it was warm, inviting, and put you instantly at ease. This CJ seemed to know what he was doing and you could now see why people called in to speak to him and other counselors like him.

You nervously licked your lips and decided to take the plunge. You told him everything. You told him about how it started when you began college, how the classes and workload immediately overwhelmed you. How you struggled to keep from drowning in assignments and tests and projects and papers. How you started to develop these episodes and how badly you felt during them. How you had tried to talk to your parents but they just didn’t seem to hear you, dismissing it as an issue that would be resolved by you being more outgoing and feeling more grateful that you had such an educational opportunity when many didn’t. How you could be in a room full of a hundred people and still feel completely alone, especially when an episode kicked in. You’d even told him about your failed attempt at attending the frat party. He had rarely talked, giving you the floor, but he had interjected a couple of times to either support you or make some helpful suggestions. Other than that, he just listened. By the time you finished, you felt like you had told him your whole life story, but you had to admit that you felt a lot better once you got it all off your chest, which incidentally, was feeling lighter. And this time, someone listened and actually heard you. That made all the difference.

You glanced at the clock for the first time in a long time and noted it was 10:16. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, your cheeks immediately heating up. Had you really been talking nonstop for over three hours? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should let you go so you can speak to other callers.”

“My shift ended fifteen minutes ago actually.”

Your heart stopped and however much better you’d been feeling, felt like it went right down the drain. How could you have been so self-absorbed and only concerned with your problems that you’d talked his ear off and used up his whole shift? Not one other person got to talk to him tonight and you didn’t even go to that school. Seriously, how selfish were you? “I-I’m so, so sorry. You should have stopped me or told me there was a time limit per call.” You were full on babbling now. “I didn’t mean to— I am so beyond sorry. I’m going to let you go. Thank you so much for your help and I hope you have a good rest of your night. Don’t worry. I promise I won’t call again. Good night.”

You went to hang up the phone when you heard loudly, “Please don’t hang up.”

You put it back to your ear, your brows drawing together in confusion. “But you said your shift was over.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But that’s okay. If I wanted you to stop talking, I would have said something. And did I ask you to stop?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then I didn’t want you to stop talking. It seems like there’s a lot on your plate at the moment or else you wouldn’t have called, right?”

“Okay, yeah. But—”

“So it’s good that you called and I’m glad I was able to help. And for the record, there’s no time limit on a call.” Someone said something to him in the background and he quietly responded though you couldn’t hear what he said. “I’m actually gonna get going because my replacement is here and they don’t have another place to sit.”

“Right. Of course. Again, sorry.”

“But,” he continued. “I’m going to be here Monday afternoon around 2 so if you want to call back then we can talk again.”

“I have class then.” You truly did but even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be calling him back. You had taken up enough of his time.

“I’m here until 6:00 that day.”

“I have a study session after that class.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. “But I appreciate the offer. Thank you and have a good—”

“I’m back on again next Friday. Same time. Why don’t you call me then if you’re free?”

“I appreciate it, CJ, but don’t worry. If I need the helpline again, I’ll call, but you helped me a lot tonight and I feel better so…I won’t need to call. Again, I’m sorry I monopolized your shift.”

“Do me a favor and call me again anyway, even if you are feeling better. I’d like to check in with you and the only way I can do that is if you call me back.”

“Right. Being anonymous and all,” you mumbled. Thank God for that. You didn’t think your embarrassment at talking his head off for over three hours while you complained about your life would ever go away.

“Yeah. So, please, if you can call me next week, same time, even if you just tell me you’re feeling better and hang up. That’s all I ask.”

You supposed you could do that, after he’d generously taken the time to hear you out, after he’d helped you through your episode. “Okay.”

“Friday, 7:00. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you whispered.

And so had begun the tradition of you calling him every Friday night at 7:00. You hadn’t intended for that to happen, honestly. But each time you would talk to him, ranging in times from twenty minutes to an hour and a half (you refused to ever get near that three hour mark again, no matter what he said), he would always ask you to call him back the following week, making you promise that you would. Over time, you noticed that your overwhelmed feeling had lessened considerably (though not completely gone) and instead of having an episode (or panic attack as CJ called them) twice weekly, they had now diminished to one every couple of weeks. And even then they weren’t as bad as they had been, thanks to the techniques CJ suggested you try using. Things had gotten better for you and you had to admit, the helpline definitely was a useful service for students, though for your own personal experience, you attributed a lot of that to CJ.

Speaking of which, that was how you two began to get to know one another, moving from strictly counselor and caller into a tentative friendship. When initially speaking to him, he began to feel like a friend you were just catching up with on how your past week had been, and then it actually sort of became that. He started to tell you more details about himself and now you knew what type of music he liked, what he was majoring in, where he had grown up, and why he had joined The Stand. He had even shared his backstory with you and why he didn’t drink when you told him how uncomfortable college parties made you in general. The conversation was no longer one-sided and you’d come to like it that way.

Until the day came when he asked your name.

“My name?”

“Well, yeah, so I know what to call you. It feels weird calling you “you” all the time,” he laughed.

“Um…” You were practically crapping bricks. You didn’t expect this.

“Just your first name. You’ll still be anonymous,” he reassured. “It could be a nickname if you want. Or your middle name. Just something.”

You ran over it in your mind. What if he still somehow managed to find out who you were if you gave him only your first name? Sure, you weren’t going to the same schools, but what if somehow someway…? Plus, your friends weren’t exactly fans of CJ right now. Apparently, Jen had a major crush on him but her hopes were dashed when he told her he didn’t date (something he had told you long before you heard it via your friends) and then hooked up with Audrey the same night. You hadn’t been there that night, opting to stay in and study for a huge test you had coming up in your Lit class, and after hearing that not only had CJ been present but also what happened, you were glad you had made that decision. Audrey and Joey were on the outs thanks to the events of that night and now so were Jen and Audrey once it was revealed that CJ and Audrey had slept together, right before Pacey punched his face in.

When that Friday rolled around, you almost didn’t call him. You were angry and hurt yourself. Angry because his careless actions had hurt more than one of your friends, and hurt because truth be told, you had started to crush on him yourself from afar. You trusted him with the details of your life, very personal details (without giving specifics obviously), and he’d helped you. How could he be this helpful, compassionate guy working at a helpline but turn out to be this scummy, advantage-taking, selfish player? You couldn’t reconcile in your head the CJ you were getting to know with the CJ your friends saw.

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” Jen told you when you wondered aloud how a helpline counselor could do something like he had with your friends. “Most people who go into those positions to help other people are usually a thousand times more screwed up than the people they’re helping. Audrey’s been hurting, as you know, and she’s been acting out and he saw an opportunity. Case closed.” But it wasn’t case closed for you. Not by a mile. You wanted answers, but how could you get them while remaining anonymous?

So that following Friday at 7:00, as you angrily punched in the helpline number, you had no idea how you would do it but you were determined to get them. And if you didn’t like what you heard, then this would be your last call and you would close the book on CJ and your budding friendship for good.

It caught you off guard, though, when you heard a different voice this time.

“Hello, Helpline. This is David.”

You nearly hung up. You knew David; he was starting to hang out with your group more and more, especially Jack. What if he recognized your voice?

“Hello?”

You forced yourself to ask the burning question on the tip of your tongue, albeit with a slightly higher pitch of voice. “Hi, is CJ there?”

“No, I’m sorry.” You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and let out a sigh of relief. Whether it was because David didn’t recognize you or you didn’t have to confront CJ right this second, you couldn’t be sure. Probably a bit of both. “He called out sick and asked me to fill in for him. He should be back next week, though.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll call then. Thank you.” You quickly hung up before he could ask you anything else.

The next Friday you called, you got CJ.

“Hey,” he greeted, sounding relieved when he heard your voice. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” You were standing in your dorm room, staring out the window and watching the rain, your arms crossed. You weren’t as angry as last week, the extra time allowing you to let a cooler head prevail, but you still wanted answers. “How are you?”

“Honestly? I’ve been better.”

“I’m sorry. I know you were sick last week. Has it not gotten any better?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I was feeling lousy and just needed to take a day, you know?” And he didn’t need to be parading around a still-healing black eye that might prompt questions, you bet.

“I get that.”

“God, I wish I had your number outside of this so I could call you.” Your jaw tightened. Perhaps your friends were right; there was a whole other side to him. A side you didn’t really want to get to know. “I really could’ve used a friend to talk to.”

You unclenched your jaw when you realized he wasn’t hitting on you and when you thought about it, he sounded genuinely miserable and he never had in any of your previous conversations, even when your friendship formed. It was unlike him, or at least the CJ you had gotten to know. Just like this behavior your friends had told you about sounded unlike him. “Well, I’m here now, if you want to talk.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make this about me. You called in to talk, not to hear about my problems,” he laughed, sounding nervous. That was a first.

“I’m sure. What are friends for?”

He told you everything while not naming anyone. He didn’t hold back anything and you realized that while he didn’t know who you were, he was giving you the side that had been missing from the story your friends told you: his side. Every side has a story after all. He admitted he had messed up big time. He had hurt Jen (or Blondie as he called her), he had been an ass to Pacey (or The Guy Who Punched My Face) when he had no right to be, and he should have never hooked up with Audrey (or The Girl That Came Out of Nowhere). Apparently, Jen had said to him the same thing she said to you and it got him thinking, along with some things Audrey had said. He felt like a huge jerk and all he wanted to do was keep his head down and move forward, get back on the right track that his life had been headed in. You stayed silent as he talked and before you knew it, the clock read 9:47.

“Your shift is over soon,” you whispered once he was done.

“Yeah, but I still have a few minutes. So what do you think? Am I a complete jackass or what?” He let out another nervous chuckle.

You briefly pressed your lips together as you thought of how best to answer that. In the end, you were as honest as you could be without giving yourself away. “I think we all make mistakes sometimes. But as long as we recognize them, apologize to those we’ve hurt, and try to do better, then that’s all that matters. So no, not a complete jackass.”

This time when he laughed, it sounded relieved. “Thanks.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for,” you repeated his words back to him, teasing him slightly.

A moment of silence passed between you before he asked, “Will you call again next week?”

That made you do a double take. He never asked you to call the following week like that. Usually he asked in the form of making you promise you would call or he’d tell you he’d talk to you the following week. But when he asked like this, he sounded uncertain, vulnerable. You knew then that more than just his face and ego had been hurt by recent events. Perhaps you were a fool but you believed his remorse to be genuine.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’ll call next week.”

And when you did, he immediately hit you with the name question.

“Earth to you…” He called, snapping you out of it and reclaiming your attention. “See? It doesn’t really work,” he laughed.

You had to be careful here. Not only because you didn’t want him to find out who you were but also because if your friends ever found out, especially Audrey…you were toast.

You opened your mouth to give him the name of a classmate that couldn’t be traced back to you but “Jo” came tumbling out instead.

“Jo?”

Oh crap. You had Audrey and then Joey on your mind and it just slipped out. Crap, crap, crap. “Yeah,” you lied. “Jo.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jo.” You could practically hear him smiling, happy to have gotten a name out of you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, angry with yourself. “Nice to meet you, too,” you mumbled before you dropped your head into your hands.

So now here you were, him thinking you were Jo from the college he was attending, and you were calling him every single week at the same time like clock work. You had long ago stopped questioning the morality of what you were doing and it seemed that he didn’t appear to question it at all. He was always happy to hear from you and your conversations were more personal now. You couldn’t deny the way your heart rate spiked every time you heard his voice when he picked up the call or how whenever his name was mentioned in passing by David or Jen (though rare these days), you would specifically tune in, listening for anything that had to do with him. You had it bad and you knew it, but it was also a safe crush from a distance and would be staying that way.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your reverie and remembered CJ has asked you a question. “I’m good. Really good. How about you?”

“Really good, huh? I’m happy to hear it and happy to be hearing from you.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I got that paper back and you were so right, The Writing Center really helped. I can’t believe I never thought to try it before. Thank you so much for that idea.”

“I’m happy to be of service,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it helped. And the club thing? Did you give that a try as well?”

Your smile dropped. He had been trying to urge you to join a club or a group where you had shared interests with other students. His theory was that if you gave a small group of people a shot doing a social activity you might enjoy, that it might help decrease your nervousness in other social settings. Even though you told him you had a group of friends you regularly met up with, he didn’t think expanding your social circles would be a bad thing to consider. “No? I told you, CJ, that’s not really my thing.”

“I get that, I do. How about this? If you want, I could meet you at Student Activities and we could take a look around together, get some info. No pressure, of course, but you wouldn’t have to walk in there alone. I know it can be a bit much sometimes. I remember my first semester here and I didn’t know where to stick my head.”

You froze. That was the first time he’d ever mentioned the possibility of you meeting in person. Perhaps if you were really Jo from Boston Bay College, you could take him up on it or give him your number like he’d asked you for or call his room number like he’d offered up a few times now so you could talk outside of the helpline. But you weren’t and so you had to decline. “I appreciate the offer but it’s not my thing so I’m going to have to pass. Sorry, but thank you, though.”

“If you’re sure.” He sounded slightly disappointed but maybe that was just you imagining it.

“Yep, I’m sure. Uh, so listen, I can’t stay on long. My roommate and her boyfriend will be here in less than ten so I’m gonna go so I can get out of here before I get hit by the clothes hurricane that’s most likely to happen.” It was a complete lie. Your roommate, Stacey, had actually gone to visit her boyfriend for the weekend. You would have peace and quiet and the dorm to yourself for two whole days.

He chuckled good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you. If you get bored later, I’m here at The Stand until 10:00, like you already know, and then I’ll be back in my room. You can call me then if you want to talk. I”ll be up for a while so don’t worry about calling too late.”

“Oh. Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.” You weren’t going to and he knew you weren’t going to. You hadn’t the last two times he’d made the same offer and the last two times you’d given him the same response.

“Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“If I don’t hear from you… Call next week, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling, like always. You said your quick goodbyes and you hung up, letting out a heavy breath. While he had been urging you to contact him personally, he had never mentioned meeting him before. That was different. And it worried you at the same time. Why the offer now? Granted, he was just trying to be helpful to you, given the context, but what if he began to find other ways to work it in like he already had about your phone numbers? What if he continued to push to meet Jo?

You shook your head, telling yourself that you were doing it again, worrying over things that might not happen. You would cross that bridge when you came to it, something CJ had once said to you that you kept for yourself as your own personal mantra. You would wait to see how next week would go.

But unfortunately, the call never happened.

You had been out with Jack and David on Thursday night at Hell’s Kitchen, when Jen waltzed in, smiling and taking a seat. Joey and Emma were working and Pacey was supposed to join you later.

“You worked late today,” Jack commented.

“Training took a little bit longer than expected. We were supposed to be done at 6:00 but then our relief called and said they were going to be late. Of course, since CJ was going to stay, I wasn’t going to just leave him there.” Your ears perked up at the mention of CJ. You knew Jen was training as a counselor and he was the one training her. Jen had begrudgingly forgiven CJ but it was also obvious to you all that she still had a crush on him. While you couldn’t blame her, you also felt for her. CJ told you that he had to make it clear once more to Blondie that he wasn’t looking to date though he was happy she had finally started training at the helpline. He really believed she would make a great counselor once she settled into it.

Talk about complicated. Jen was your friend and you didn’t want to see her get hurt, but you could also understand if CJ didn’t see her that way, he just didn’t. They were both your friends now and you just wanted them both to be happy, whatever that looked like.

“But then, listen to this,” she continued. “Our relief, this guy named Seth, sees me there with CJ and starts teasing him about how he’s racking up all of these beautiful girls through the helpline, not leaving any for him.”

“Jen,” Jack warned.

“No, listen. This is good. You’re going to like this.”

Jack sighed but let her finish.

“CJ laughs it off but then Seth mentions how he has this girl calling him every Friday night, around the same time, and she talks his ear off for hours.”

You were about to take a bite of your french fry when you froze. Your heart dropped down to your feet.

“And so I ask if this is true and CJ says that we’re there to help everybody, time limits aren’t a thing, and it doesn’t matter how many times a caller calls back or they speak to the same counselor. As long as they get the help they need.”

“He’s right,” David chimed in.

“But then Seth starts teasing him again and asks if CJ can give him tips on how to get dates using the helpline. CJ laughs and says sure. I mention how he said he wasn’t looking to date and Seth says he tells every girl that so he doesn’t have to commit but can still get what he wants.” You dropped your fry back into your basket, trying to ignore the rolling nausea in your stomach.

“I don’t know about that,” David chuckled nervously.

“He didn’t deny it, David. He just laughed and walked away. Can you believe it? He’s using the helpline to get girls. Talk about abusing the system, not to mention the absolute lack of morality.” You definitely felt like you were going to be sick. “I quit. If that’s what guys like him and Seth are using that helpline for then I don’t want any part of it. And CJ? Audrey was right. He’s a skeevy player. I can’t believe I didn’t see it this whole time.” Jen shook her head. You were getting that all-too familiar falling feeling again.

“Wait, seriously? Guys are using the helpline to pick up girls?” Jack turned to David.

“No. Jen, I’m sure Seth was just kidding and CJ was just playing along. Nobody is using the helpline to pick anyone up. Everyone that works there knows the rules and they’re there to help callers. How could they pick anyone up, anyway? It’s all anonymous.”

“Yeah, but if they pushed for a date or something… It could happen.” You immediately felt your stomach jolt and like someone had punched you in the gut at the same time.

“It could,” David agreed. “But I doubt it does.”

“He has the same girl calling him every single week at the same time. What would keep her calling like that?” Jen interjected. You glanced away from the table for a moment, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer David would give.

“Is that true? Every week?” Jack asked in disbelief.

“It’s true,” David confirmed. “I actually got her once when CJ was out sick. She sounded nice.” If you could have, you would have given him a smile, thankful for David’s attempt to defend CJ and the helpline and unknowingly you. But right then, you were trying not to hyperventilate. “And CJ appears to be helping her. He said she’s made a lot of progress since they started talking.”

“He talked to you about her?” Jen looked shocked. Oh God. Your chest started to feel tight.

“Only because he was going to be out sick that one day and in case she called and then decided to talk to me, he wanted me to be up to speed in case she needed something. That’s all.”

“I feel badly for this girl. She probably thinks CJ is some great guy and she can trust him but based on what Seth said, he’s simply playing the long game with her. A girl whose trust he’s taking advantage of. I’m telling you, Audrey was right about him and I should’ve seen it.” Jen rubbed at her forehead. It was beyond hot in here and even though it wasn’t crowded, the room started to feel smaller.

“I don’t think that’s true, Jen,” David defended. “I don’t think he’s looking to take advantage of this girl at all. I think he truly wants to help her.”

“Yeah, that’s how it started with Audrey and look at how that turned out.” David dropped his gaze to his food, continuing to poke at it with his fork. There wasn’t much he could say to that though he wished he still would. “And if that’s true, he only wants to help her, then why was he laughing along when Seth talked about her and how she keeps him on the phone for hours? How is that helping her?”

You felt like your feet were locked in cement but your legs were wobbling to and fro. And yet you also felt like a large boulder was now sitting on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. How could any of this conversation be happening right now?

Jack glanced from David to Jen. “Perhaps David’s right, Jen. Maybe he was just playing along. That’s what guys do sometimes. You know that.”

“I don’t think that’s what that was. Either way, I quit.”

Jack and David started to urge her not to quit, but at that point you’d had enough. Your hands were clammy and you felt that feeling on your forehead, too. You needed cold, and air. “Excuse me,” you nearly rasped out and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. You could feel your dinner coming back up. Joey stopped you in your trek.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

You shook your head and dodged past her, hurrying to the bathroom. Once you reached it, you locked the door and pushed into a stall just in time. You emptied the contents of your stomach and once you were finished, you made your way towards the sink, splashing cold water on your face. You could feel the panic attack you were having and you tried your best to ward it off but to no avail.

You slid down the wall and struggled to breathe, trying the techniques CJ had taught you. You didn’t want to think about him right now but you also didn’t want to be having this happen while your friends sat right outside. Not to mention, you knew Joey was going to come check on you. You gasped for air and rubbed at your chest. Once it passed, you unlocked the door, made excuses to Joey and your friends, went home, showered, and cried yourself to sleep. For the first time in a while, you’d had a particularly bad episode and ended the night in tears: two things you hadn’t done since you’d started talking to CJ regularly. You felt as if all the progress you’d made was like a house of cards that fell to the ground after one card was pulled out from under you. And all because you’d trusted the wrong person.

So you stopped calling and instead, spent your Friday nights at the library, studying, so you wouldn’t be tempted to pick up the phone and call to confront the guy who’d betrayed your trust.

<-->

A few weeks later, you were sitting on Joey’s bed, watching Audrey unload her closet onto her mattress. Apparently, she was going to rehab, for real this time. She was ready to confront the fact that her drinking was out of control. Joey was helping her sort through everything and handed you things to fold and place in her suitcase. Eddie had already taken one heavy suitcase down to the car, along with a very high Bob.

You all looked up when there was a polite knock on their dorm room door. Joey got up to answer it, most likely thinking it was Eddie, but when she opened the door, it revealed another guy altogether.

There stood CJ, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a jacket covering his tall frame. Your heart skipped a beat before falling into your stomach but then leaping back into place and pounding faster than before for a whole other reason. You immediately grabbed a magazine from the nightstand and began sifting through it, your jaw clenched and you refusing to look in his direction.

Before anyone could say a word, Audrey groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw CJ hold up a placating hand in her direction. “I’m not here for you, okay? I’m actually looking for someone.”

You froze.

“I bet you are,” Audrey grumbled.

Joey crossed her arms. “Who?”

“A girl by the name of Jo who lives in this building.”

You mentally cursed yourself. You knew you had let the name of your dorm building slip once by accident but he hadn’t appeared to have heard you so you thought you were in the clear; apparently, he had heard you. Crap.

Joey tensed. Uh oh. You had a feeling this was going to come back to haunt you at some point. Here it was. “Why are you looking for me?”

CJ’s brow drew together. “You’re Jo?”

Audrey was suddenly at Joey’s side. “Yeah, why are you looking for her?”

“Jo is a girl who called the helpline. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks and I just wanted to check on her.”

Her distaste for CJ forgotten, Audrey turned in shock to her roommate. “Joey Potter, you called the helpline?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous, Audrey.” Joey then looked at CJ. “I don’t know who this girl is but it’s not me. Good luck in your search.” She went to close the door but CJ stopped her.

“Wait, so you’ve never heard of a girl named Jo who lives in this building?”

“No,” Audrey snapped. “Now, go away.”

“Hold on a second. Because Joanna Martin who lives on the 2nd floor isn’t her and has never heard of her. Now you’re saying you’re not her and you’ve never heard of her either?”

Audrey gave him a nasty smirk. “Imagine that. A girl using a fake name calling an anonymous helpline. She probably knows what a sleazeball you are and didn’t want you stalking her. If she was calling the helpline, she’s probably got enough on her plate. Best of luck, Stalker Boy.”

Audrey went to shut the door in his face but again, he stopped it.

“I don’t really care what you think of me. You want to think I’m the bad guy in everything that happened with us? That’s fine. But I’m actually trying to find this girl to help her.”

“Help her into your bed, you mean.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, I bet it is but whatever.” Audrey rolled her eyes and turned back to you. “Y/N, have you ever heard of this girl he’s looking for?”

Your eyes snapped up to them and all three of them were now staring at you, waiting for your answer. Crap. CJ was looking right at you. Double crap. You shook your head and went back to your magazine.

“There you go. No one here has heard of her. Buh-bye now.”

Audrey was closing the door when Joey’s phone started to ring. Joey, who had gone back into the whirlwind of clothes, looked over at you. “Hey, can you get that? Eddie might be calling from his cell phone.”

You nodded and picked up the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to Joey? Audrey’s friend, Bob, is getting a little impatient down here.”

“Sure. One sec.” You handed the phone to Joey. “It’s Eddie.” She took it and began rolling her eyes when Eddie was most likely telling her the same thing he had just told you. She came over, zipped up the suitcase you had been working on after dumping more things into it. “Do you mind taking this to Eddie downstairs? He’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Sure thing.” You tossed the magazine back onto the night stand and grabbed the suitcase handle, picking it up and placing it on its wheels. You slipped your worn paperback copy of your book into the back pocket of your jeans, intent on returning it to your room when you came back up. Now that you knew CJ was trying to track you down and he was in the building, you didn’t feel comfortable having any clues pointing to your identity out in the open like that.

You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and began to pull it along. “Oh my God, Aud. Do you really need this many outfits?”

She looked up from her cell phone and gave you a smile. “Of course. Rehab is bound to be drab so I’m going to make it fab.” She shot you a wink and opened the door for you.

You laughed and shook your head, crossing over the threshold. You made your way to the elevator and pushed the button. While you were waiting, you heard behind you, “Need some help with that?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. CJ was right there, behind you, talking directly to you. While a part of you wanted to tell him to take a hike, your desire for anonymity was greater. You turned and gave him a wan smile, shaking your head. His green eyes were intent on you and you didn’t care for that one bit. It was like he knew who you were without you even having to say it. Luckily, at that moment, the elevator dinged and the door opened. You went to roll the suitcase onto it when a hand picked it up out of nowhere.

“Let me give you a hand,” CJ offered, not waiting for you to reply and stepping into the elevator. You paused for a moment, considering not getting onto it with him but Eddie was expecting you and Joey and Audrey were waiting for you to come back. You let out a quiet sigh and stepped inside, hitting the button for the Lobby and waiting for the doors to close.

Once they did and you started descending, CJ glanced over at you. “So, Jo, were you planning on ever calling me again?”

Your heart started to pound but you forced yourself to remain cool as a cucumber, hoping he wouldn’t recognize your voice. You arched a questioning brow up at him. “I don’t know who you think I am but my name’s Y/N. Sorry to disappoint.” You turned back to the door.

“The Green Mile book in your back pocket says otherwise.”

Crap. You tried to think quickly. “That’s just a book I’m reading for class.” You decided to channel Audrey, the queen of mean when she wanted to be; perhaps that would get him to leave you alone. The doors were opening and you turned to give him a smirk. “NIce try, though, Sherlock. Better get back to Watson before he misses you.” You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and nearly stormed out of the elevator.

CJ was suddenly at your side. “I know it’s you. Why are you trying so hard to act like it’s not?”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore him. Thankfully, Eddie came into sight, rushing to get the suitcase.

“Thank you, thank you.” He picked it up and gave you a look. “About how many more of these are coming down, do you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. She has a lot of outfits. Joey’s got her work cut out for her.”

Eddie groaned and then noticed CJ standing next to you. “Good to see you again, man.”

“Likewise.”

Eddie glanced between you and CJ before walking away. Great. He was bound to mention that to Joey who would most likely question you about it later thanks to CJ’s impromptu appearance earlier. You spun on your heel and headed back to the elevator, punching the button.

CJ was suddenly next to you. “What happened? Why did you stop calling?” He quietly asked you.

You didn’t answer him, just kept staring straight ahead, your jaw clenched.

He leaned in slightly, his voice even quieter. “Did I make you nervous by offering to meet you? I was only trying to help. Nothing funny, I promise.”

When the doors opened, you stepped inside and of course, he followed you. The doors closed and your ride up began.

“Are you going to talk to me or just keep ignoring me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know your voice. It’s you.” After another quiet moment, he begged, “Would you please just talk to me? What happened?”

You shook your head.

“Something obviously happened to make you stop calling. So, talk to me. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You glared over at him. “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now please stop bothering me.” CJ looked as if you’d slapped him for a moment and you felt guilty but then you immediately remembered what Jen had said that night at the bar.

He gave you a curt nod and turned to face the door. Once it opened, you went to step out when he lifted the book out of your back pocket.

“Hey! Give that back!” He held it out of your reach, opening it to find the note from your dad on the inside page that he’d written after he bought it for you. Why did you have to mention that in your phone conversations? That was a dead giveaway that yes, Jo was indeed you. How could you have been so stupid?

CJ gestured to the note. “Tell me again how it’s not you.”

You snatched the book out of his hands and hurried down the hall to your room. You would’ve gone back to Audrey’s and Joey’s room, but you were afraid he’d out you to them. Even if they didn’t believe him, you still remembered Audrey’s reaction when she thought it might be Joey for a moment and the latter’s response.

“Y/N, wait,” CJ begged behind you. “Please, can we just talk for a minute?” You were unlocking your door when he was right next to you. “Just one minute. Please. That’s all I’m asking. Then, if you want, you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

You mulled it over for a moment. You could do one minute, you supposed, and get this over with. You glanced up at him and nodded, pretending not to see the relief that filled his expression. You opened the door and then held it open wider for him to follow.

You saw your roommate sitting on her bed, talking on the phone to her boyfriend. “Stace,” you interrupted. “Can you give us a minute?”

She frowned. “I’m kind of in the middle of—”

“I need the room.” Your tone brooked no argument. You surprised her; usually, you kept to yourself and never really stood up to her if she got mean or demanding. But you were not in the mood for any of her crap right then. You were at your limit.

Stacey scoffed but got to her feet. “One second, babe.” She glared at you, which you were more than happy to return, and then turned it onto CJ as well. “Boys aren’t allowed to stay up here so make it quick. You know the rules.”

You huffed out a snort. “The rule you break almost every other night? Got it, Stace, thanks for looking out.” You practically shut the door in her scowling face. You turned to find CJ’s eyes trained on you.

“So that’s the roommate, huh?” You shrugged. “Exactly how I pictured her, scowl and everything.”

You didn’t laugh at his joke and instead, crossed your arms. “You wanted to talk?”

He pressed his lips together and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “Why did you stop calling?”

You wanted to tell him the truth but it also seemed best to just get him out of there as soon as possible. He knew who you really were now and that was a problem. Especially if your friends found out you were the girl that had been calling him every week. Because sooner or later, they would want to know why and you weren’t ready to talk about that or have them look at you funny. You knew they’d be supportive, especially Joey and Audrey, but you also knew things would change. And you weren’t quite ready for that to happen.

“I’ve been doing better so there was no need. You should know, you made me your pet project after all.” You didn’t mean to be harsh but you were still angry.

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“You know. I’m the girl who calls you every week to talk your ear off and keeps you on the phone for hours. The girl you’ve supposedly been trying to pick up through the helpline, though apparently I’m not the only one.”

His eyes widened. “Y/N, that’s not true at all. I don’t use the helpline to pick up girls or try to get dates. I don’t date, you know I don’t. I don’t know who told you that but it’s not true.”

“But the other part is?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Because that’s how your buddy Seth put it, the way Jen tells it.”

CJ huffed out a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his forehead and giving a nod. “Jen. That’s who you heard this from.”

“Don’t even,” you snapped. “David also mentioned how you told him all about me and my issues.” You used quotation marks on the last word.

His hand dropped. “Okay, first off, you don’t have issues, no more than anybody else around here, myself included. Second, I only told David because I was going to be out that one night. I wanted to make sure if you called in that you were taken care of. That’s it. David is one of our better counselors, he’s a friend, and I trust him completely.”

Your jaw tightened. “That still doesn’t explain why Seth would even say anything like that. And you laughed! You stood there and laughed as this guy, who I don’t know by the way, is turning me calling you for help into a joke! Is that what I am? The joke at the office? Does everyone there know how I’ve been calling you every week and boring you to death with my problems?”

“What? No! You’re not a joke. And you’re not—”

“Really? Because it sure sounded like it to me based on what Jen said.”

“Okay, let’s get something straight. You’re not boring me to death when you call, you’re not talking my ear off, or keeping me stuck on the phone with you, or anything else that someone else might have said. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to be there for you and try to help. Then when we started talking about more than that, I wanted to talk to you even more. If I didn’t want to talk to you at all, if you were such a nuisance, then why would I ask you to call back every week or give you my phone number even?”

“But you weren’t trying to pick me up.”

“No, I wasn’t. I wanted to be available to you if you needed to talk to me outside of the hours I had at The Stand.”

“Yeah, because I was your pet project.”

“No, you weren’t and why do you keep saying that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Isn’t that what you do, though? Isn’t that why you tracked me down? Isn’t that why you kept trying to get my number and even suggested we meet though the helpline’s supposed to be anonymous? You look for girls who are messed up and try to be their white knight. It gives you some sort of satisfaction, some twisted sense of purpose… That’s what happened with Audrey, right?” Again, he looked like you slapped him but this time, you didn’t feel guilty. You were only speaking the truth. He had told you how much he wanted to help Audrey and how somehow they ended up in bed together and before he knew it, he really liked her and wanted to see more of her. In the end, he’d admitted to you that it might have been him confusing his desire to help her with his interest in her. That maybe Audrey had been right in what she’d said.

You watched as his shoulders deflated slightly and he let out a heavy breath, hanging his head. You bit your lip and glanced away from him, not wanting to see him look so defeated. You had to be strong, you had to stand up for yourself and not let him or anyone else take advantage of you. That was the silent vow you’d made to yourself after you’d cried yourself to sleep that night you found out how you were being used and made a mockery of.

“I tracked you down because I was worried,” he spoke softly. You turned back to find him staring at you, remorse radiating from him. You felt slightly bad for hurting him but you had said nothing but the truth, from his own lips. “It wasn’t like you not to call so I thought maybe something happened or maybe I made you nervous with that last call. Like I said, I gave you my number because I wanted to be there for you anytime you needed me, even if I wasn’t working. So this way you always had a way to get a hold of me if you needed to. I only asked for yours because I did like talking to you and I thought we were becoming friends. I know that’s not the norm for the helpline and it’s never happened before, to me or to anyone else that I know of, but like I said, I enjoyed talking to you. I only offered to meet you at Student Activities that day because you seemed nervous to try it alone and I didn’t want you to feel like that. I would’ve made that offer to anyone that needed it.” He nervously licked his lips. “I do like you but it has nothing to do with my wanting to help you or make sure you’re okay. I made a mistake with Audrey but I learned from it. I told you that.” He sighed before continuing. “I like you, Y/N, because you’re funny and smart and kind. Even if we didn’t meet through the helpline, I still would have liked you once I got to talk to you, once I got to know you better. That’s the truth.”

He turned to leave when he stopped suddenly. “By the way, Seth is the guy who usually relieves me on Friday nights. That’s how he knew about you calling every week. He always liked to razz me about being on the phone with you since I made him fifteen minutes late for his shift that one time. I only laughed because it was obvious he was showing off for Jen, that he likes her, and I was trying not to embarrass him in front of her. I did end up talking to him later about it, though, and asked him not to mention it again in front of her or anyone else. He agreed; he’s not a bad guy.” He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened. If you call the helpline again and want to talk to someone else, I understand. If you don’t want to call at all, I understand that, too. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”

You averted your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears building in them, and you gave him a curt nod. You only looked up again when the door snicked closed. You pretended a tear didn’t suddenly roll down your cheek and you told yourself that you had done the right thing. Though it certainly didn’t feel like it in the moment, deep within your chest.

<-->

You stared at your phone, pacing back and forth as you chewed on your thumbnail. It had been almost a month since CJ walked out of your dorm room, leaving you more conflicted than you felt prior to his arrival. You had turned his explanation over and over in your mind so much that you had begun to dream about him every night. You had more panic attacks during that time, to the point where you’d finally taken the plunge and made an appointment to see a therapist. You’d told your parents everything you’d been experiencing, making sure they heard you this time, and told them you needed help. Your mother was still annoyed with you but your father was supportive, especially when you told him that you had a group of friends you met up with pretty regularly. He agreed to help with payments for your therapy.

You were doing better, just like you had been while talking to CJ, and the therapist had even more techniques in her toolbox that she taught you how to use. You’d even opened up to her about CJ and everything that happened with him. She was the initial reason why you were considering making a call that you hadn’t made in quite a while.

When you saw the clock hit 7:21, you made your decision. You huffed out a breath, picked up the phone, and dialed the all-too familiar number.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You resumed your pacing, nervous, unsure of how to say what you wanted to.

“Hello?”

You’ve got this.

“Hello?”

Just do it already. Talk to him.

“Listen, if you’re—”

“What are your plans for tomorrow afternoon?” You rushed out before you lost your nerve.

“Jo?” You appreciated him using your fake name. “Is that you?”

“Well?” You asked.

“Uh, tomorrow? I’m free...”

“Would you…want to get some coffee? Maybe?”

“Coffee, huh?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Jo, you’re not calling the helpline to ask me out on a coffee date, are you? Because that would be a serious misuse of this valuable resource the college provides,” he teased.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll just wait until Seth is on shift then and call him up to ask him instead. Thanks, though. Bye.”

“Don’t you dare,” he laughed. You lifted the phone back up to your ear. “What time and what coffee shop?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Got a pen?”

<-->

You walked into the coffee shop ten minutes early, intent on getting a table and settling in before CJ arrived. To your surprise, he was already there, waving you over. You approached, feeling your heartbeat speed up with every step. “You’re early.”

“I wanted to make sure we got a good table.” You had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason. The worry shadowing his expression confirmed it. Did he really think you had called him up to ask him to meet you only for you not to show? Then again, you supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“Good thinking.” You gestured towards the line with your thumb. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”

He was immediately on his feet. “I’ll get it. You sit down. You still like lattes?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded; he remembered.

He returned your smile. “Okay. Here, take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” You watched him walk over to the line as you did just that.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, but you were taking your therapist’s advice. You were moving your friendship with CJ away from the helpline and out into the real world. You were giving him another chance while also allowing both of you to start over. If CJ agreed to, that is.

A few minutes later, he returned and placed your cup in front of you. You gave him a smile of thanks and waited for him to join you.

“So,” he started once he was settled. “You called in.”

“Only to ask you to meet me,” you pointed out.

The corner of his lips tipped up in a genuine smile. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.” And you meant it. You were happy he’d said yes. “I actually asked you to meet me because I wanted to thank you.”

His brows drew together. “Thank me?”

You nodded and began to tell him about all of the recent developments in your life, including therapy. You also apologized for how harsh you’d been the last time you saw each other but he waved it off, saying you didn’t need to and he understood. He listened intently and his smile grew when you mentioned how the therapy was helping and your panic attacks were starting to lessen.

“I’m really happy to hear it, Y/N, and I’m glad you’re doing better.”

You bit at your lip, feeling nervous about speaking this next part. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t helped me the way you did, especially that first night. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

Your heart began to pound against your rib cage but you bravely surged forward and kissed his cheek. When you sat back in your chair, his eyes were wide and you felt your face get hot. “Sorry. I just really wanted to do that for a long time. I hope that was okay.”

He grinned. “More than okay.” You felt relief sweep through you. “I was just thinking—”

“I know. You’re not dating, and we’re friends. Don’t worry, I understand.”

He studied you for a moment before speaking again. “I was going to say ‘I was just thinking what a coincidence because there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time, too.’” His hand gently covered yours and he slowly leaned in, giving you time to pull away or tell him to stop. You weren’t going to do either.

His lips brushed gently against yours and you felt a thrill rush through you at the contact. You had imagined kissing him so many times but the fantasy did absolutely no justice to the real thing. When you broke apart but he didn’t lean back right away, he murmured, “Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you whispered before pulling him back into you, both of you grinning like idiots before your lips connected again.

<-->

You stopped, seeing the front of the building you were about to go into. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You asked nervously.

CJ turned back to you and gave you a reassuring smile before cupping your cheek and kissing you. “Yes. We should.”

“But—”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “Trust me. I’m right here with you, okay?” He pecked your lips one more time, tightened his hold on your hand, and began pulling you forward.

“Okay.” You didn’t sound so sure about this and truthfully, you weren’t.

CJ chuckled and led you inside. The Stand office was decorated with balloons and streamers and there was even confetti on the floor. One of the counselors was leaving since she was soon to graduate and a party was being thrown for her last day. You tried not to get overwhelmed at the amount of people filling the small space. It was overly warm in here and you could barely hear yourself think over the din of multiple conversations going on at once. Somewhere music was playing at a decent level. You noted a room in the back where through the window you could see two people sitting, talking on the phone, a closed door in between them and the noise.

CJ intertwined your fingers and moved you both towards a group of a few people that he was intent on talking to, people greeting him as he passed. You remembered the techniques you had been taught and tried to put them into action while reminding yourself that you were with CJ and he wasn’t going to abandon you.

He stopped and greeted the group before he turned to you smiling. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

One of the guys laughed. “Ah, so this is Y/N.” Your heart started hammering inside your chest. “CJ hasn’t shut up about you since you two started dating.” You nearly sighed in relief.

CJ shrugged, grinning down at you. “Seth’s not wrong.”

Your eyes widened before you turned back to the guy. “Oh, so you’re Seth.”

Seth beamed. “Aww, CJ, you told her about me? I just knew we had something special,” he joked.

You frowned. “Hey now. Go get your own CJ. This one’s mine.” You winked up at CJ who laughed.

He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him. “Definitely yours,” he whispered huskily.

Seth pretended to gag. “Ugh. Young love. Gross. You can have him, Y/N.”

“Damn right I do,” you laughed as CJ wrapped himself around you from behind and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

From that moment on, it wasn’t so bad. CJ circulated around the room to different groups, introducing you each time. With him by your side, you began to feel more comfortable and you opened up bit by bit. At one point, CJ took your hand and led you away. “I want to show you something.”

“Again?” You teased. “Didn’t you already show me something back in my dorm earlier? Twice?”

“Ha ha. No, this is something different. Though there will definitely be a third time when I get you out of here and back to my place.”

“Ooo. You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, Mr. Braxton.”

He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and pulled you into a kiss that left you breathless. “Just a small preview for later.”

“A small preview?” You panted. You just loved teasing him and couldn’t resist.

He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Come on.”

CJ led you over to a desk and with his free hand, he swiped confetti off of the seat. “This is it. My station,” he told you.

Your eyes roamed over the computer, the keyboard, the notepad and pens, stopping on the corded phone. So this was it. This was where CJ had sat on those Friday nights during your conversations. You smiled to yourself at the memory.

You let out a squeal when CJ quickly sat down in the chair and pulled you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, glaring at his laugh. You softened though when you looked back over the desk. “So this is where you sat on those nights we talked?”

“Uh huh. Though I much prefer you here on this end with me.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and turned you to him, kissing you sweetly. You snuck your fingers into his hair and tilted your head to deepen it, not caring right then about anyone or anything else around you.

You and CJ had been dating for a while now and it was starting to become serious. He had met your parents when they came to visit. Your dad had liked him right away. Your mom, on the other hand, had given him a bit of a hard time but underneath the harsh exterior she was presenting, you could tell she liked him, too. He had initially planned to transfer to a school in New York, which you more than supported (though you were secretly heartbroken). You reminded him that you had done the phone thing once upon a time and you could do it again, if he wanted. After contemplating it, he decided to stay in Boston.

“Please don’t tell me you chose to stay because of me. I’m not going anywhere. If it’s a great opportunity for you, you should go. I don’t want you to regret not going.”

He’d simply smiled. “I have a great opportunity right here and I would regret leaving.” He’d kissed your nose. “Besides, Boston’s home.”

“CJ, you should go. I’m almost done and I can come visit you. It’s only a few hours’ drive. You could show me things like the Empire State Building or take me to a museum or a play or show me Times Square.” You’d tried to make it sound enticing but inside it was killing you. Everyone knew long distance relationships had their problems and who knew? Maybe he might meet someone new in the Big Apple. But you also wanted him to do what was right for him, just like you’d spoken with your therapist about. You didn’t want him to resent you later on if he didn’t take this opportunity now and you certainly didn’t want him to have any regrets. “We could even visit Jen and Jack, see how her Grams is doing.”

Jen and Jack had transferred to New York. You had been worried to tell her that you and CJ were dating but while she was a little miffed in the beginning, she was more focused on the developing situation with her grandmother who had been diagnosed with cancer. Eventually, she forgave you before she left and gave you her blessing. You had been relieved; Jen was a good person, a good friend, and you didn’t want to lose her friendship. Jack had been worried about Jen’s reaction but for the most part, he had been fine with it. David was happy for you both. Audrey was doing better these days and though she had wanted to know what the hell you were thinking by shacking up with The Sleaze (as she referred to him), she had eventually told you she loved you and just wanted you to be happy. Joey asked you if you were sure when you told her and when you assured her that you were, she pretty much said the same thing as her former roommate and gave you a hug. She gave you a look when you pulled away and you knew that she had connected the dots on who you really were to CJ, but to her credit, she mercifully never said anything. Pacey and Emma had shrugged (CJ had apologized to Pacey at some point after what happened with Audrey and they had resolved things), wishing you well. Dawson…well, you never really got to know Dawson all that well during his brief visits so no conversation needed to be had there really. All in all, your friends were supportive, even if still a little wary of how things were going to work out. You were happy, though. It was strange but shifting from friends into romance proved to be an easier transition then you thought it would be.

CJ laid his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not going without you.” You went to speak, to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, when he cut you off. “I know what I want. I’m okay with my decision. I need you to be, too.”

You tenderly stroked his arm. “Are you sure?” You whispered, worried he was making a mistake.

“More than sure.” He then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“Okay,” you whispered to his lips before kissing him again.

And now you had met all of his co-workers at The Stand and had seen where he worked a few days out of the week. He had offered to bring you several times before, but you had been hesitant to take him up on it, still worried someone might figure out who you really were. It’s not that you were embarrassed that you had called the helpline for help, but your business was your business and you didn’t want to be seen as that girl CJ got himself through the service. You both obviously knew that wasn’t the case but people talked, people judged, and you just wanted to steer clear of both as long as you possibly could. You knew you shouldn’t care what anyone thought or said, just like CJ didn’t; it was something you were currently working on in therapy.

“So,” you teased when he finally broke away for air. “Is there a switchboard somewhere that you have somebody directing all the girls to you when they call? Is that how I got you every single time I called?”

He grinned. “Not exactly. I told everybody that any calls that came in on Fridays at 7:00 were mine.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Well, how did you know I would call every single time?” You huffed out. “How do you know I might not have gotten held up? Or made plans at the last second? Or got fed up with you?”

He gave you a cocky smirk. “Because you liked talking to me. I could tell.”

You playfully swatted at his shoulder, making him laugh, and rolled your eyes. “It always amazes me that you’re able to make it through doorways with that massive ego of yours. That can’t be how you knew I would call you every time.”

His smirk grew and he nodded.

“I hate you,” you mumbled. You didn’t really mean it and he knew you didn’t.

CJ pulled you closer up against him. “You have a weird way of showing that.” He inclined his head towards your embrace around his neck.

“True,” you murmured and kissed him again.

“Plus,” CJ added when you pulled back. “You always said you would call back and I believed you.”

“Better,” you decided. “Though I will begrudgingly admit that I did like talking to you.”

“Like I said, I could—”

“Hush.” You covered his lips with yours and he chuckled into your mouth. When you pulled back this time, you laid your forehead against his, your eyes closed, smiling. “I love you,” you murmured.

“I love you, too” he whispered back to you, lifting up to press a kiss to your brow before you buried your head into his neck and he discreetly snuck his hands under your shirt to rub your back, just the way you liked.

“Want to get out of here?” He asked you after a few minutes had passed.

“Mmm.” You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “No Fleetwood Mac this time, though.”

He laughed and helped you to your feet. “What have you got against one of the greatest bands of all time?”

“Nothing. It’s just weird to listen to that chorus when we’re about to…you know.” You could feel your cheeks starting to warm.

He grinned salaciously at you. “Oh, I know. Hey, at least it’s not the Star Wars theme.” He snickered at your glare and picked up your hand, kissing it. “No Fleetwood Mac tonight. Got it.” He intertwined your fingers and his grin softened into an affectionate smile before he led you out of there. You quickly made your goodbyes and hurried back to his place where he kept his promise of no rock group music track playing along to your own soundtrack.

Later, as CJ slept, you repeatedly ran your fingers through his messy hair in soothing strokes as you studied him. Who knew calling the helpline that one Friday night would lead you here? Where you were happy, in love, and doing much better than you ever thought possible? You had gone from feeling overwhelmed by your education to feeling a different type of overwhelmed together. Overwhelming love and affection for the special person in your life; overwhelming gratitude for the progress you’d been able to make in managing your anxiety and panic attacks as best you could; and overwhelming contentment with every single moment, no matter the ups and downs that was best known as life. Regardless of whatever happened from here, you knew you’d be okay and you’d handle whatever was thrown your way. Like CJ had once said, one day at a time.

In his sleep, your boyfriend reached out for you and pulled you in closer to him, snuggling into your side and burrowing into your neck, making you smile.

And to think, you almost hadn’t made that call. You laid your head against CJ’s and closed your eyes. You were so glad you did.

#cj braxton x reader #cj braxton x female reader #cj braxton x you #cj braxton x y/n #cj braxton #dawson's creek fanfiction #dawson's creek #prompt response #dawson's creek fandom #cj braxton x female!collegestudent!reader #female!collegestudent!reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles character #cj braxton fanfiction #thebiggerbear

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sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

Cheers to the Weekend

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), pillow humping, cmnf (clothed male, naked female)

Summary: You and your boyfriend discuss what to do with your weekend off together.

Word count: 3k

"Babe, I'm here!" Your most favourite words. You jump up from where you'd been sprawled across the couch, running all of about five feet before being able to embrace your boyfriend. He buries his face into your shoulder, humming happily.

"You alright?" You ask as you let go, reaching over to gently intertwine your fingers with his instead.

"'M very tired," he admits with a sleepy smile. "How was your shift?"

"My cheeks hurt from all the customer-service-smiling I've been doing," you admit with a grimace. "Still, that family's the weekend staff's problem now."

"Yep, and now your only problem this weekend is having your annoyingly doting boyfriend constantly wanting to snuggle with you, watch TV with you, maybe go for a little walk on the beach with you…" Tom's head cocks from side to side as he lists off activities.

"That sounds like the opposite of a problem, actually," you grin at him, pulling him in for a kiss. He kisses you back, starting with little pecks that gradually linger more, getting more and more intense with each one, pulling you into the bedroom.

He pulls back with one final chaste kiss. "So, what was that family's deal?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress to start unlacing his boots.

Getting yourself comfortable on the bed, you sigh loudly, "Mum was trying to find every excuse to get free stuff while her kid emptied all the soil out of Fergus' pot onto the floor. "

Tom lets out a sharp gasp as he tugs one shoe off, "Not Fergus the ficus! That's murder!" You laugh, and he smiles over at you adoringly. "See, this is why I couldn't do your job, I'd have told them all to piss off and made that kid scoop it all back in," he shakes his head as he kicks off the other shoe. He flops onto the bed on his stomach, groaning into the pillow. The way his face squishes into it makes you laugh again. "Ugh, was your bed always this comfortable, or is it just the day I've had?"

"It's definitely just you," you point out amusedly, laying on your side and propping yourself up by your elbow. "I could never do your job, either. Big, strong handyman, slaving away at that workshop, carrying all those big, heavy things…"

Tom laughs as he pushes himself up. "Y'give me far too much credit, angel."

You soon fall into your natural position in bed; Tom's arm wrapped around you, his fingers rubbing up and down the top of your arm, your head against his chest, his heart thumping against your cheekbone. It isn't long, though, before he squeezes your shoulder in a way you know means that he wants you to lean up so he can kiss you some more. Tom hums, "Really missed you today."

"Missed you, too, Tommy," you purr between kisses.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," Tom admits, and you grin.

"Oh, yeah? What about me?"

"Just, y’know. Thinking about all the stuff we can do this weekend, all those things I were just saying about," he muses.

You grin coyly, "And nothing else?"

He rolls his eyes and tuts jokingly. "Yes, yes, and that stuff, too, horndog."

"What?" You giggle. "You're the one thinking about that stuff at work."

"Oh, and you're not?" Tom asks you in disbelief.

"...I didn't say that," you tease, moving over to straddle him.

"Oh, hello," he grins at the change of position, his hands running up and down the sides of your body, wrapping his arms around your back once you lean down to kiss him intensely, hips grinding down against his. He hums against your lips, "Mmm, somebody's eager, aren't they?"

"No shit, look at you," you grin back before kissing him again, your tongues engaging in a twisting dance of passion, accompanied by the harmony of you both moaning together.

"Fuck, yes, sweets, y'feel so good like that," Tom groans. "Keep making those sounds, yeah? Please, s'fucking hot." You move just slightly to moan deliberately into his ear, and his grip on you tightens. "Mmm, is this what you've been thinking about all day, love? Counting down the minutes until you could ravish me?"

With a sheepish giggle, you lie, "No…"

"Certainly seems like it," he raises his eyebrows at you as you sit upright, rocking yourself in circles against the erection you feel pressing through his tracksuit bottoms. He bites his lip tightly as he watches you, his hands slipping underneath your pyjama top to squeeze your hips, digging his grip in. He groans, "Want this off, want to see my fingers press into you."

"Is that all you want to see from me being topless?" You mimic his tone from earlier, and Tom laughs as he helps you pull the garment off of your body. He constantly slides his hands up and down your body, stopping each way to grip your breasts and your hips. Every squeeze earns him an evermore desperate buck of your hips.

Tom smiles dreamily up at you. "'M never gonna get tired of this view, pretty girl. My pretty girl."

You hope your, "'M not," is muttered quietly enough for Tom not to hear it, but no such luck.

"Uh, excuse you, you're fucking gorgeous, babe. 'M a lucky, lucky boy," he smirks, pulling your face down to kiss you again. He gasps out a moan against your lips, "And the way you're humping me like that, fuck, so good. Make me feel so good, looking like that, 've hit the jackpot, me. Fuck, is that good for you, too, yeah?"

You play with the collar of his shirt. "Please, Tommy… Wanna really make you feel good."

He groans again, this time out of exhaustion. "Listen, babe, literally any other time, you know I'd have my clothes off at that in an instant, but… 'M just so tired tonight, angel. I'm sorry."

"I could just ride you?" You offer, and he chuckles, rubbing his face wearily.

"You know I don't like just sitting there and letting you do all the work," he frowns up at you.

You mirror him, "And yet you'll spend the best part of an hour going down on me without expecting anything back?"

He pulls a face of intrigue. "What a wonderful idea." Before you can react, he wraps an arm and a leg around you, swinging his whole body around to roll you onto your back, as he hovers over you.

You giggle, "What happened to being tired, eh?"

"That was my last bit of energy," he grins back. "Well, almost. Think I've got just about enough to get these off you." He hooks his fingers over the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down your legs before settling himself between them. "There she is," he coos under his breath, his fingertips tracing the outside of your folds. "I've especially missed you."

You groan, "Tommy… 'S not faaaair."

"What isn't, angel?" he asks, sliding his middle finger inside of you with ease. You gasp out a long moan, your eyes unfocusing, and he grins up at the sight of you.

“Wanna make you feel good, too,” you whine.

He tuts, shaking his head. “Now, now. Sulking in’t gonna get you anywhere, is it?” He pulls his finger almost completely out of you before sinking it back in again quicker. You thrash your fists against the mattress and he breathes out a soft laugh. “What did I just say, sweets?” he asks in the same soft tone as before.

“Not sulking,” you pout. “Just wanna - wanna touch you and taste you and fu- Fuck, Tommy, I really wanna fuck you, please,” you plead as he adds another finger.

He does climb up your body, still working your core with one hand, to silently kiss you. His motions get far more rapid, moving in and out of you until his fingers are so slick with your juices that they just slip out of you, to which he then starts rubbing your clit at the same speed. Your cries of pleasure come out as muted vibrations against his lips, and you don’t realise him taking the pillow next to you and pulling it back down with him even as he breaks away. You blink your heavy-lidded eyes over and over, watching the imaginary spots that shower your field of vision slowly dissipate.

“Plenty of time for that, love,” he soothes once he’s settled back down where he wants to be. “But right now, I fucking need your thighs around me.” His palms slide up and down the inner sides of your legs as a gentle prompt, and you comply, crossing your ankles loosely between his shoulder blades. He sighs contentedly. “So soft…” He shuffles into position to press a kiss to your clit, his hands wrapping around the flesh of your thighs to hold them in place. “So warm…” you hear him from the cave he’s made for himself between your legs as you feel him nuzzle his way further down to your core. “Perfect.”

His tongue works as tenderly as it would if he were kissing you, gently poking its way through your folds and sliding through. Your fingers card through his curls as his head turns, this way and that, as he plays you like an instrument, eliciting different noises from you with every motion. Your legs twitch, instinctively squeezing together around his head, and he moans delightfully, pushing down on your thighs to tighten their hold on his head even more. He snakes his tongue inside of you, extending it to its stiffest, most pointed length as he bobs his head back and forth to fuck you with it.

Your legs wrap tighter still around him, and you feel his grip slip around to your ass cheeks to grip them roughly. The sensation of his fingernails digging into your supple flesh have you crying out in pleasure, which you can tell from his moans is turning him on insanely quickly.

But, with your thighs in a vice around him, it gets harder for you to grab his hair, make a mess of his curls so that when he resurfaces, it's obvious for the rest of the day what he's been up to. You don't get to look into those dark, rich eyes of his that caramelise when the sun sets just right through the window.

You pout, "Tommy…" as you relax your thighs, pulling them slightly away from him.

"Everything alright, sweets?" He asks with concern.

You continue in the same tone, "Miss your face."

With a soft laugh, he kneels up slightly, your heels naturally sliding off of his shoulder blades as he does. "Of course, angel, 'm sorry." He pushes your legs wide open, looking down adoringly at your glistening folds. "Such a perfect, pretty thing, isn't she?" he smiles, running the pad of his finger along them. Placing his hands just within the crooks of your legs, he gently pushes outward, spreading you even wider. He marvels at the sight in front of him studiously, his eyes darting around until he places another, calculated, kiss down between your legs, his lips and tongue working in ways no form of self-pleasure could ever replicate.

His eyes flutter shut as he flicks his tongue in all kinds of formations: he lays it flat against you as he licks along your folds from the bottom up; he gently traces the insides of your lips with the tip; he waggles his tongue back and forth, at a speed your eyes can barely keep up with, as it works your clit from every angle he can move his head to reach. Every sound of pleasure you make is harmonised by his humming against you.

As you melt against him, warm brown eyes flicker up to look at you through his eyelashes as he starts suckling on your clit. All you can see of him are his curls, now wildly spread out thanks to your handiwork, his eyes and his nose, but with just those alone, his expression tells you how much he adores you. The way his brow softly knits together, the glint in his eye, it makes you feel like a goddess that he's obsessed with worshipping.

You cry out, "Fuck, Tom… Feel… So good, 'm gonna -" The rest of your sentence is swallowed in a high-pitched whine as you feel the first pang of your crescendo forming.

Tom groans against you, pulling away just to tell you, "Perfect timing as always, angel, this has been turning me on like mad, wanna make you cum so badly."

You whimper, "Please… Want yours, too, Tommy."

He tuts, shaking his head. "No time, sweets. Think you coming on my face is exactly what I need to get off, too." Before you can answer back, he resumes suckling on your clit, burying two fingers inside of you and working them at the same speed he had earlier, until you're seeing those spots again. "So fucking gorgeous when you're all fucked out, babe," he croons. "C'mon, be a good girl and come all over me."

As you let your orgasm take full control over your body, he stops fingering you to immediately get his tongue in there, cleaning you up as you cream all over his mouth for what feels like eternity. His look changes as he devours you, one you recognise as his own orgasmic expression. You notice a little movement in the corner of your eye, and prop yourself up on your elbow to investigate.

You'd not even noticed you were a pillow short, let alone that he had slid his tracksuit bottoms to his knees to fold the pillow between his thighs, humping it as erratically as he'd move if he were coming. You let out a small, disappointed whimper. "Y'didn't need to use a pillow, 'm right here."

"Can't eat you out and cum inside you at the same time, sweets," he points out with a smirk, his whole body looking on the verge of giving up all movement as he slides back up to be eye-level with you.

"I could've sat on your face and sucked you off at the same time," you retaliate in a similar tone, and he chuckles.

"Nah, needed that. To just make my girl forget that anything else exists for a bit. Helps me feel the same, too," he explains, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "S'pose I should clean up what's in these boxers, though, eh?"

"Is it weird that it actually turns me on, knowing you came in your pants over me?" You ask as he heads into the bathroom, and half his laughter gets drowned out by the sound of running water. As he's cleaning himself up, you notice the discarded pillow and start rearranging the others until the one he'd been humping is beneath your head.

As he returns, he looks quizzically at the bottom of the bed, pointing to where the pillow had been. You bury half your face into it, smiling coyly as you look over at him, and he bites his lip. "Speaking of things that weirdly turn y'on, that's so doing it for me," he groans under his breath as he sits on the corner of the bed and reaches again for his shoes.

You frown, "Where you off to?"

"We have to eat at some stage, horndog," he teases, leaning over to tap your nose playfully.

"What are you gonna go and get, then?" You ask as he puts on his second boot.

"Thinking that Chinese place just outside of here, it's never that long of a wait," he shrugs, and you hum happily as you redress yourself in your pyjamas, opting to stay sitting up on your bed as he gets up.

"Sounds good to me. Could I have a -" Tom interrupts you by reciting your order exactly as he walks towards the door. Feeling nothing but the pure ecstacy of being around someone who remembers even the littlest details, you mindlessly call back to him, "You're the best! Love you!"

Your little bubble of contentment pops when you realise what you've said. How it's the first time you've said it. And it's just on a throwaway goodbye on his way to get a takeaway. He rushes the few paces it takes to get back to your bedroom to look at you, his expression tough to read, and say, "Say that again." You start to fluster, unsure how you can potentially backtrack from here, but he kneels one leg back onto your bed, leaning over to cradle your cheek in his hand. "Please. Say it properly, to my face," he pleads softly.

Grinning widely, you place your hand over his and look him dead in the eyes as he gives you that worshipping gaze all over again. "I love you, Tommy." A surprised chirp escapes the back of your throat as he tackles you back down onto the bed, furiously kissing your lips over and over and over again, and you laugh against him. "What happened to getting food, horndog? Now you've made me hungry!"

"'M not doing this to fuck ya, 'm doing this 'cause I love ya," he mutters as he kisses your neck. You lay back and revel in how good it feels until your stomach betrays you, growling loudly. The breath from Tom's laugh tickles your neck as he slides down to pull your pyjama top up enough to expose your tummy so he can kiss it. "Alright, message received, loud and clear, boss," he says directly to it before climbing off the bed. You giggle as you readjust your top, and he looks at you softly. "I do love you, y'know."

"If you did, you wouldn't keep me starving here, now, would you?" You tease, falling apart with laughter once more as he bolts out of the door. You head back to where the sofa is - where you'd left your phone - and send him a text: I love you, too, btw. 😘

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant imagine #tom grant fanfiction #tom grant fanfic #tom grant fic #tom make up #tom make up x reader #tom make up x you #tom make up imagine #tom make up fanfiction #tom make up fanfic #tom make up fic #*myfics #fic: tom g

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heresathreebee · 2 years

Text

Tom Grant | Make-Up (2019) || Prompt 69 // Dirty Talk

Upscale Trailer Park AU; 3.2k words (long fic, sorry); NO BETA/ SELF EDITED, American Author Writing British Characters, Slav and Lana Are Completely Made Up For This Story, Swearing, Drinking, Mutual Pining, Best Friends to Lovers, Jealousy (minor), Body Shots, Mild Voyuerism, Hair Pulling and Spanking (brief), Oral Sex (male and female receiving), Face Sitting, Messy End

Masterlist | Next: Eddie Munson Floor Sex

Cornwall was celebrating the coming new year with the catastrophic crash of all televisions in the county. It had taken you ages to get Tom to do anything other than sulk about no pubs playing matches tonight, but you still made the best of a short pub crawl and returned to your flat with a few friends.

Your old mate Slav whispers something in his girlfriend’s ear and smacks her ass as she stands to get him another beer. A spike of jealousy shot through you and your eyes darted to Tom, who noticed nothing and was counting his points again.

“No bloody way I’m down by 3.”

You chuckle at his dismay and tease with a pinch to his arm. “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. How do you expect to win if you can’t even get on the board?”

“I will twat you, swear to God,” he threatens you with a shake of his finger and you roar in laughter. “Oi, how ‘bout you make yourself useful and get me a beer, eh?”

“Oh it’s like that, is it?” You slap Slav on his thigh and stand. “Watch the board, make sure this git doesn’t change the score while I’m gone.”

“A’right…” Slav says, still very distracted by his girlfriend’s tiny skirt.

“Jesus bruv,” you hear Tom groan. “Pick up your jaw before you drool on the table!”

“Oi Lana.” you take a few shot glasses from the cupboard and reach to the very back for your stash. "Wanna get absolutely knackered?"

Slav's girlfriend squealed, snatched the bottle of tequila, and bounced back to the rummy game shouting, "let's do body shots!"

Both of the boys’ heads perk up with interest and you feel your heart pound against your ribs. Tom orders you to grab limes and you don’t bother to snap at him for bossing you around because you need a second to collect your thoughts. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as you cut the lime into wedges, thinking about Tom’s tongue gliding up your stomach. Maybe Lana would take the bullet and everyone would just do shots off her...

As you turned around, she was already laid out on the table with her shirt pulled up and the glittery sparkle over her belly made you certain you did not want to get body spray in your mouth. You pass two lime wedges to Slav and turn to Tom expectantly (ignoring the obvious glance he gave your cleavage).

“Alright you, ready up.” You sprinkle salt into your hand and hide a grin when he balks. “Come on, I know you’ve been dying to show off Mr. Rugby, so on the table you go!”

You tried unsuccessfully not to openly admire the way he reaches back and rips his rugby shirt over his head, and musses his curls. You pat the table which has already been cleared of cards. “Chop chop, we’re two shots behind already.”

Tom looks down his nose at you before obeying. He shivers as you pour tequila into his naval cavity. Mirroring Slav, you wipe some overrun off the table and smear it along the taut length of Tom’s torso before sprinkling the salt on the line. Feeling awkward, you tie up your hair and lean over Tom’s lazy face.

“You been cleaning the lint out, right?”

“Fuuuck you,” Tom’s belly shakes from laughter and spills most of the tequila you prepped. “Just fuckin’ do it, mate. Got a game of rummy to win.”

You laugh together and Slav helps you top off Tom's innie again while you hand Tom the lime wedge to hold in his mouth. After a deep breath, you dive in. You slurp the cheap tequila out of his belly button, lick the line of salt up to his pecks, and steal the lime from Tom’s mouth in record time. The feeling of his warm breath brushing over cheeks causes your nipples to tighten under your shirt.

Tom laughs at the sour face you pull and sits up. You don’t expect to feel his hand firmly grasp your hip and guide you to stand between him and the table. When you look at his face for an answer, his eyes are mischievous and unusually dark.

“My turn.” His voice is low, almost a growl and warm instantly pools between your legs. It’s embarrassing the way your eyelids flutter, but you recover quickly and slap his bare chest and make a pathetic noise around the lime wedge you were chewing on. He chuckles at your feeble swat. “Seriously, let me do my shot and get back to the game. Unless… you want me to use Lana, instead?”

You and Tom are just friends. Tom is teasing you and you two are nothing more than good friends....

And yet, another spike of jealousy slams through you and you rip the lime rind from your mouth before pointedly taking Tom’s place on the table and lifting your shirt to your armpits. Somehow the company decided Lana would also take a shot off of you as well. She went first, suctioning your stomach like she was trying to invert your naval and slurp your guts out.

Tom and Slav both laughed as you squirmed and by the time Lana took the lime wedge from you, you were laughing too. All humor escaped your body like a breath when you realized Tom was next. He was redressed and tilted his head lightly as he refilled the tequila, Lana sprinkled the salt, and Slav took his seat and began to shuffle the deck for a new round. With Lana distracted by her lighter, it felt like what happened next was just between you and Tom.

His hand resting on your hip for support. The puff of warm breath as he leaned over your bare flesh. The very indecent way his tongue dipped into your naval and swirled over your flesh. It made your sex throb painfully, and as he flattened his tongue to catch as much salt as he could off your chest, you gasped and inadvertently let the lime slip deeper into your mouth.

Before you knew it, Tom’s face was hovering over yours expecting easy access to the last step and god, grunting, as his slick lips touched yours. Without ceremony, his fingers were suddenly digging into your cheeks and forcing the lime to peak out of your mouth. You can’t help but whine and lift your head, startled by this unexpectedly rough treatment. Your fingers dug into his shoulders and you almost cried out as you felt his tongue poke into your mouth for just a second to gain more leverage.

You were panting and dizzy as Tom finally pulled away. Your entire face was boiling hot and your body ablaze, but Tom? Tom chewed the lime and grabbed another like he had no idea of the sparks between you (to be fair, he really hated the taste of tequila). He held out a hand without even looking at you.

“Come on up, off the table now. I gotta kick your ass in rummy.”

Somehow you recovered yourself and during the next round threw away an ace to get Tommy to the 30 points he needed to get on the board and actually start keeping his points.

“You suck at this game Tom,” you teased after the fifth time he finished the round with cards in his hand. “You know you wouldn’t have to subtract points if you emptied your hand.”

“Yes,” he hissed, “I know the rules, thank you. And that’s rich coming from the bottom of the board.”

You looked at the whiteboard where you were keeping score to find you were at the bottom (for now). You shrugged at Tom and kept playing, on and on until 2 am when Slav declared Lana won 75 points just to push her to the required 500 to end the game. The group laughed and began cleaning up the table. Tom asked Slav and Lana if they were sure they could make it home.

“We’ll be fine,” Slav said as he tucked his girlfriend under his arm. “Peace, mate.”

“Yeah, peace er whatever.”

You finished rinsing the last dish and stuffed it into the washer to start. “I’m gonna watch ‘em, make sure they get in alright.”

Tom grumbled something but followed you out to nice porch of the trailer. As you looked over the dirt road to spot them, Tom saddled up behind you. His hands gripped the varnished wood railing on either side of you and he very gently rested his chin on your shoulder. A shiver ran through you (you pretend it was the wind picking up).

"D'see 'em?" He asked, his words a little slurred.

“Think they went the other way, oh wait,” you leaned back into his shoulder and pointed to a weak lightpost three trailers down. “They’re sucking face over there.”

“Oh yeah,” Tom sang. “God, he’s eatin’ her!”

You laugh so hard you snort and double over the railing in embarrassment. It fills Tom with mirthful pride. “I’m serious, look! It’s like watchin’ your toothless grandpa suck a boiled potato.”

“S-stop!” You wheeze and bury your face in your hands. “I can’t! I can’t...”

Tom giggled right along with you. You feel one of his hands catch you by your waist as you sway drunkenly before him. You both manage to get a hold of each other and find your friends have escalated their tryst.

“Are they for real?”

Slav had one hand up the front of Lana’s skirt and one hand tangled in her messy bun. They were too far away to see the motion but you could imagine what he was doing to her. That's when Tom decided to lean into your ear and whisper, "what do you think he's tellin' her?"

"Something dirty," you answered back. "Absolute filth."

"Yeah," came Tom's teasing voice. A gentle laugh tickled the skin of your neck. "Like uh…"

A hand gripped your hip tightly and his voice dropped an octave. "Can you feel your greedy little cunt grippin' my fingers?"

It's painful how hard your own throbbed.

“Too much?,” Tom says, “or maybe you like that kind of thing.”

He was just teasing but there was no hiding the way your body responded. You knew he felt you shiver against him. You watched as his eyes darkened and a sly grin appeared on his face. You should have said something, protested, anything, but you were paralyzed on the spot.

"Oh, you do like it!," he teased and pressed you harder into the railing. “Shall we have a look and see if your knickers are wet?”

You grabbed Tom's wrist like it was a lifeline. In an instant, he took a full step back and had to catch you to keep you from falling. You felt… a lot of things in that moment. Lust above all else. It has to be why you said what you said next.

"Don't start something you can't finish," you said in a low voice.

All breathing stopped between you. Tom's eyes darted down to your lips several times. You had never been more sure of anything in your life before this that what Tom Grant wanted right now was to kiss you.

And you watched helplessly as his brow furrowed and a sigh escaped from him, one so woeful his shoulders sagged from it. "...you're drunk, probably. Should let you sleep it off…"

Disappointment filled your gut like a busted dam. You didn't want him to see you get emotional, so you pushed past him and stormed off to your tiny bed closet. You dumped yourself face first into your pillow and tried to focus on your anger so you wouldn't cry.

You were half way to falling asleep when there was a soft knock at your door. You grimaced into your pillow and ignored him even when Tom called your name, but you did peek out when he invited himself in anyways.

Your weak "go away" was completely muffled by the pillow pressed to your mouth and you buried your face harder to hide. Now you were ticked off at him, and growing more so when he decided to straddle your hips and poke your ribs.

Your name rolls of his tongue in a purr. "I was thinking…" His hands wandered up your back and began to massage your shoulders. "Tequila time was 2 hours ago, and I will admit one thing: you hold yours better than me. And I dunno about you but after that fucking marathon of a game, I'm stone cold sober!"

Muffled giggling turns into a relieved moan when Tom accidentally works out a knot in your back. You want to respond but you are a tad bit tired and you would hate for him to stop, so you wiggle your hips and bump his crotch with intent. Tom’s hips come down hard against you and are swiftly replaced with his greedy hands grasping handfuls of your cheeks and massaging you there roughly.

“Fuckin’ hell, babe.”

Tom’s hands slide under your hips for leverage as he humps your ass like an animal. You can’t take it anymore and lift your head just enough to yell at him, “stop teasing, Tommy, and fuckin’ fuck me already.”

“Someone’s impatient,” he chuckled and buried his face and his fingers in your hair. “God, you smell good. D’you want a towel? Gonna need one for what I’m thinking about doing to you.”

You were too busy rolling your eyes in your head to respond and yelped in surprise when he took a fist full of your roots and pulled your head back by them. His chin brushed your forehead, a five o’ clock shadow leaving burns where it touched you. It was mortifying, this vulnerable position… and yet, so rewarding.

“I asked you a question.”

“I,” you say with a gulp, “I don’t care! I just want you. On me, in me, I don’t care how or what fucking mess you make, but take my fucking clothes off.”

Tom tutts in your ear but relents. You lift your hips to give him access to your button and fly, and an extra gush of wet soaks into your pants as he works your shorts off (he has to exit the little close where your bed is as theres no floor room here). Once they are free from your ankles, you feel the bed dip again and a fat smack lands on your bare ass.

"FUCK!" You can feel every inch of his hand leaving a print that stings like a thousand needles. "Tommy!"

Tom just laughs and slips out of his shirt before going to work on his trousers. He swears when they tangle at his ankles because he hadn’t taken his shoes off beforehand and he sits down on the bed, struggling to free himself.

You are quicker to undress and as soon as you are free, you slip a hand between your thighs for some much needed attention. Your sigh of relief is cut short when you remember something very important. “You haven’t got a condom, have you?”

Tom freezes instantly. You can only see his back from your position but the silence that lingers between you is concerning. When he does speak, it’s timid.

“...I’m sure I have one… somewhere.”

He starts to search through his pockets (trousers still tangled around his ankles making it even harder) but you are beyond impatient at this point and you huff and crawl over the bed to him. Tom is given another moment to jack about before he is unceremoniously thrown onto his back.

“No more talking,” you command. “You ready to put that mouth of yours to good use?”

Tom nodded, his neck flushing red. He glances up and leans his head back as you hover over his face before lightly sitting down. Instantly, you are rewarded with the feeling of Tom’s tongue, flat and wide, licking a stripe over your clit to your hole and his hands settling on your hips lovingly.

“Fu-u-uck Tommy…”

He’s a little clumsy starting out but his skill is made up for by his enthusiasm. You have to rest your head on his lower belly and bite down on the soft skin there as he slips a long finger into your channel. His tongue dances a figure 8 over your bud causing your hips to rock against his face. You feel his other hand sneak down your naked chest, taking a moment to grope your boob before continuing down until his fingers graze your throat.

You’re not sure what his plan is, but you have others. Like making him groan as your hand squeezes the base of his cock.

“Fuck darlin’, don’t tease me, not now,” came Tom’s slightly muffled voice.

“Oh now we’re worried about teasing?” You yelp when he nips your thigh. "Ouch, okay okay!"

You collect the pearlescent fluid leaking from his tip on your palm and spread it around on his cock. He grows just a tad thicker as you work him, but it's still not enough lubrication so you spit in your hand and use that. Tom groans from beneath you again and plants his unused hand on your ass like an anchor.

Now with your hand gliding over the soft, pink skin, you hesitate to put him in your mouth. Tom inserts a second finger and stretches you as he works your sex desparately. You grind your teeth and tug on his cock harder to try and make up for your lack of reciprocation.

“Fuuuck Tommy,” you purr and immediately bark “HEY” when he spanks you.

“Hows ‘bout you put your mouth to good use, eh!”

“Alright, bossy,” you giggle which turns into another moan.

You push aside thoughts about your mounting pleasure and try to focus on him. You slide back the extra skin of his cock and pop the head between your lips before giving a firm suck. Tom groans against your clit and has to pull away for a second to breathe. He retaliates by adding another finger to his thrusting and pushes faster into you.

While you are pumping the lower half of his shaft, you bob your head, taking it deeper inch by inch. You feel Tom’s chest rising and falling faster beneath your dangling belly and breasts. It’s intoxicating, the assault of sensations from all around you. Energy thrums in your body, and pressure builds quickly in your gut. You’re getting close to coming way too quickly and have to back off of Tom’s cock when you gag. You use the gallon of saliva and precum to lubricate the movements of your hand.

“Fuck, darlin’. You gonna come on my fingers?,” Tom asked (can barely hear him with his mouth full).

“Yes, please Tommy,” you begged. “Always wanted you like this…”

Tom hums against your clit and his fingers hit that special spot inside you. “‘M never gonna let you leave this fuckin’ bed...”

All you needed was one more tug on your clit and then you were coming hard, digging your nails into his thighs and screaming. Tom's so worked up and turned on his free standing cock throbs and shoots cum all over your neck dribbling down to your collarbone as he whimpers and writhes beneath you as you ride out your orgasm on his face. You frantically try to catch his tip in your mouth only to take the last shot cum up your nose and sputter and laugh as you come down from your high.

Tommy laughs too as you roll over, your head resting on his thigh and politely dodging his softening cock. Your both panting like dogs.

"Sorry love. Least I didn't get it in your hair."

You check. "Yes you did!"

"Well fuck it!," and you both descend into another fit of giggles.

Masterlist | Next: Eddie Munson Floor Sex

Thank you for reading! Happy Fall and approaching Halloween!

#three bees writing #kinktober 2022 challenge #tppkinktober2022 #tom grant smut #tom grant x female reader #joseph quinn character fiction #black reader insert

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