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uluvjay · 11 months ago

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Fall in love with you- T. Zegras

Trevor Zegras x Best friend! Reader (feat. Quinn Hughes)

Summary: you knew Better than to fall in love with Trevor

Warnings?; angst, self-doubt, crying, asshole Trevor, cursing, Quinn comes to the rescue, this is extremely old and hardly proofread so I apologize for any errors!

Next part

—

You were Trevor’s best friend, your moms were best friends in collage leading to the life long friendship of you two.

You two had always been close even when he moved to Michigan for hockey you never drifted. He begged you to come to Boston with him for collage even though he only stayed a year and your had gotten into your dream school.

It was Trevor how could you say no?

That was a problem of yours never being able to tell him no. He wanted to go to a party even though you hated them? You went, wanted you to stay up late with him despite you having a big test the next day? You did it.

You always blamed it on the fact he was your best friend but everyone besides Trevor knew you were lying, they could all see how in love you were with him they just never brought it up.

The first person to call you out on those feelings was Quinn Hughes. Trevor had invited you to the Hughes lake house two summers ago where he constantly left you and was hardly even home most nights, usually with some random girl he met that day.

There had been an argument between you and Trevor, you blew up on him after he came home from another one night stand telling him if you knew you would be spending more time with the Hughes family and their other friends then him you wouldn’t have come in the first place.

He got offended saying he was allowed to have fun to even though that had nothing to do with what you were saying, after he stormed out of the room you were staying in you made the impulse decision to book a flight back to New York, and get the hell out of there but Quinn had caught you packing.

—-

“Hey you okay we heard you two yell- woah what’re you packing for?” He asked stopping himself mid sentence

“Im going home Quinn, thank you for opening your home to me I really appreciate it and you guys have all been so nice spending time with me while Trevor’s off with random girls every night”

“Wait, why are you leaving though? Did Trevor say something? I’ll go kick his ass right now if he hurt your feelings”

“No he didn’t I-I just can’t do this anymore, he begged me to come and of course I said yes like always just for him to pretty much say fuck me and leave me to be with some random girls who probably took pictures of him sleeping so they can post them an-“

“Your in love with him” he said cutting you off

“What? No Quinn, I’m not” you replied with a defensive laugh

“Don’t lie to me”

“Quinn I’m not”

“Cut the bullshit” he told you more stern shutting the door

“I’m not lying”

“Yes you are, I see the way you look at your phone when he lets you know he won’t be coming back, how you stare at the marks on his neck and back, how you stare daggers into all the girls that talk to him, the way your face lights up when he walks into a room, your in love”

“He can’t know Quinn, it’ll ruin everything” you told him looking down at your hands

“Hey, your secrets safe with me, but you can’t do this to yourself forever kid”

And that’s how You and Quinn also became best friends

—-

Fast forward two years and here you are back at the same Lake house in the same predicament. However over last summer you became good friends with most of the guys including Jamie and Mason who came with from Anaheim.

You Graduated from collage in May and got your degree in interior design, tonight Quinn and Jack were hosting you a small graduation dinner as they wasn’t able to attend your graduation along with some of the other guys.

You were standing in the Kitchen with Cole, Quinn, Jack, Trevor and Jamie who had all just come back from a workout.

“So Y/n you gonna come to Montreal and help me make my house look nice? I need some help decorating my shelves they don’t look good” Cole asked

“You can reach your shelves?” Jack asked causing everyone to laugh

“Shut up asshole” Cole replied

“Yeah Coley I’ll come help but I won’t be needing your stepladder I should be good” you said adding in to the joking

“You know what fuck all of you” he said walking off laughing

“Love you!” You called out laughing as well

“When he murders us all in our sleep I won’t be surprised” Quinn said causing everyone to let out light giggles

“Y/n what color you wearing tonight? I don’t wanna clash” Jack asked you

“You act like you won’t be wearing shorts and a random shirt ” you replied “but probably this white dress I bought a little while ago, I’m finally tan enough to wear it”

“You can’t wear white, the girl I invited is” Trevor blurted out looking at his phone

“Dude what the hell? I told you this was a lake house thing only, only the people staying here are allowed at the dinner, no extra invites” Quinn said getting a little pissed

“Aren’t your parents coming? Along with Luke, some of his friends, and y/n’s one friend? Why can’t my friend come”

“That’s our Family Z, they have a relationship with y/n and she knows Luke’s friends from them hanging around they’re like all madly in love with her” Jack said joining in

“Y/n’s fine with it right?” He said giving you the look he always did when he wanted something from you

“I’m not paying, it’s up to Quinn and Jack they organized the dinner” you said looking away

“Yeah so she’s not coming and if she for some reason does show up, she better not be in white, it’s Y/n’s night” Quinn said ending the conversation and walking out everyone else following besides you and Trevor.

“What the hell was that?” Trevor scoffed

“What?”

“You totally taking Quinn’s side!? Are you in a mood with me or something? Why can’t my friend come”

“Because I’m not paying Z, it’s not something i organized Quinn and Jack did, if I had it up to me we’d being having pizza and sitting around a fire not going to a fancy restaurant.” you told him growing a bit annoyed.

“Whatever” he mumbled stomping off.

—

Four hours later everyone was in a private room at some fancy restaurant in Michigan, in all it had ended up being You, The Hughes family, Cole, Mason, Jamie, Trevor, Dylan and Luca.

Trevor hadn’t spoken to you since earlier in the kitchen and hadn’t gotten off his phone since you guys had gotten to the restaurant.

Jamie and Mason had both said something to him multiple times but it just ended with Trevor giving both of them attitude.

You were talking with Ellen about the new things she had planted in their home garden when Trevor stood up and pocketed his phone walking out of the private room.

“Okay can I ask what the hell his problem is?” Ellen had asked loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I didn’t let him invite one of his little hookups and he got mad because Y/n took my side instead of giving in” Quinn explained.

“He hasn’t said a word to me since like noon either” Jack added.

“Okay this isn’t about him and let’s not make it about him, tonight is about Y/n and her achievements” Jim said shutting everyone up just in time as the food was being served.

Ten minutes later the door opened back up and in walked Trevor with a blonde girl.

You froze, was he serious right now? For one night he couldn’t listen and not go off and do what he wanted. You looked around and seen Jamie and Cole both rubbing their foreheads and looked next to you at Quinn who had his head titled back, then to your right to your best friend who looked like she was about to murder both Trevor and the blonde girl.

You returned to eating until you heard someone scoff and a chair scoot out, as you looked up you seen Jamie pulling Trevor out the room, leaving the girl in the room.

“And you are?” Ellen asked causing Luke and Jack to both let out slight laughs at how straightforward their mom was.

“Emma” she replied

“Mm” was all Ellen replied, she also knew about your feelings for Trevor

The door opened back up and in walked a pissed off Jamie which was a rare sight to see, and an annoyed Trevor.

“Everyone this is my girlfriend Emma” he announced and it got so quiet you could hear a pin drop as everyone looked from them to you.

Did everyone know about your feelings? Were you truly that noticeable when it came to how you acted around Trevor?

“Since when?” Mason asked

“Three months” Emma answered

Everyone just stayed quite, the tension could be cut with a knife and the amount of awkwardness was uncomfortable.

“I think it’s time to head home” you whispered in Quinn’s ear

“Yeah, I’ll go grab the check” he said getting up and walking out

“Where’s he going?” Trevor asked

“To get the Check” you replied

“Already? Is that what you whispered in his ear about? I’m not ready to leave you can’t just decide when we all leave Y/n”

“Well I’m ready to head home Trevor and it was my graduation dinner but you of course found a way to make the night about you” you snapped standing up and leaving.

—

Once everyone got home you went straight to your room and got changed into comfortable clothes, went down stairs, made a drink and went outback.

You were feeling a rollercoaster of emotions, you loved Trevor and he constantly hurt you but honestly it was your fault, you were the one that never told him how you feel how’s he supposed to know you wanna be the one in his bed every night?

You were also angry at him, how dare he pull the shit he did tonight at your graduation dinner of all things. You celebrated multiple achievements of his with him and never once made it about you, it just wasn’t fair.

You didn’t even realize someone had come outside or that you were crying until you heard someone ask you something.

“Huh?” You asked as you came back to your surroundings to see Jack sitting next to you.

“I asked why your crying”

“Oh it’s nothing” you rushed out wiping your tears

“Non of that Bullshit what’s up” he asked

“I love Trevor, no I’m in love with him, have been since I was 17”

“I know” he replied nonchalantly

“What?!”

“It’s not hard to notice y/n, your pretty bad at hiding it” he said with a laugh

“You don’t think he noticed do you..”

“No he’s to stupid” he told you laughing again

“Good, I just don’t know what I’d do if he found out I was in love with him, we’ve been best friends since we were born it would ruin everything.”

“You’re in love with me?” You heard the person that shouldn’t be asking that question ask it.

“Shit” you mumbled closing your eyes

“I’m gonna head back inside” Jack said getting up and patting your shoulder

“I asked you a question Y/n, please tell me you’re talking about someone else you’ve been friends with since kids.”Trevor said

“No it’s you, I love you” you said in a low voice

“What the Fuck” he said with a laugh

“I know, I know I’m sorr-“

“Sorry doesn’t cut it Y/n! Do you know what this is going to change? Everything! Our whole lives, every moment we’ve ever shared, it’s all different now”

“I know that’s why I never said anything, I knew you wouldn’t feel the same” you mumbled

“Damn right I don’t feel that way”

“Can you not be rude right now?, you listened in on a conversation you had no business hearing and now you know information that just ruined our friendship, I don’t need you being an ass”

“Why? Why me y/n?”

“I don’t know Trevor! I ask myself that every single day, why you, why my best friend? And I don’t have an answer ” you told him.

“You should have known better”

“It not like I wanted to fall for you Trevor, it’s not like I hoped and wished that I’d fall in love with you and ruin a 22 year long friendship.”

“We need space, I need space y/n I don’t know how to feel about this.” he told you

“I’ll find the next flight to New York tomorrow and be gone” you told him walking past him and into the house.

—

As you were laying in bed you heard someone knock on your door, “come in” you said with a hoarse voice from crying

“Hey I just wanted to check in, Jack told me what happened” Quinn said walking in

“It was so bad Quinny” you said breaking down again.

“No, don’t cry, it’ll be okay y/n” he said sitting next to you and rubbing your back

“I’m leaving tomorrow” you told him

“Why?”

“He said he wants space so I’m gonna go home, I think it’s for the better you know getting away from him”

“Don’t go home, let’s go somewhere”

“Where?” You asked with curiosity

“A beach?”

“That sounds nice”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” you said looking up at him with a smile

—-

Next part

#nhl #trevor zegras #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras x you #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes

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egcdeath · 1 year ago

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how the cookie crumbles

summary: when you come back home to austin to help your sister with her bakery, you end up in an arrangement with your high school crush that ends up being far more than you bargained for.

word count: 11.5k

warnings: FAKE DATING, au: no outbreak, pining. so much pining and a touch of yearning, idiots to lovers, high school crushes to lovers, very hallmark-romcom esque, fluff, a touch of angst, more fluff, the reader has a sister but the sister doesn’t have a name, joel’s ex is kinda rude, alcohol consumption, cuddling, miscommunication kinda, unrequited love that’s actually requited love, no use of y/n, not beta read.

author’s note: this is my first fic back after taking my several month long break!! i want to give a big shoutout to my texas consultant and biggest cheerleader @cowgurrrl, who encouraged me to write, gave me helpful ideas, and let me dump my brain and my silly little ideas on her whenever <3

For as long as you could remember, you and your sister had been total opposites. As girls, your sister spent her time playing with dolls, experimenting with whatever new hairstyle on your scalp, and eagerly shadowing your mother in the kitchen, while you preferred to spend your time exploring the city on your bike, reading books in your hammock, and doodling whatever had caught your interest in your hourly. As you entered young adulthood, you were unsurprised as your sister married her high school sweetheart just months after graduating college before setting off to start her own business in Austin, while you moved as far as you could out of Texas and began a prosperous career in New York City.

Regardless of the different paths your lives had taken, the minute your sister had even suggested that she might’ve needed help at her bakery, you were booking a flight back home. The holidays were a notoriously busy time for her business, with people wanting cakes and pies to display as their own labors of love at their family gatherings, or to have their children wake up to a dozen expertly decorated cookies under the guise that that was what their Elf on the Shelf had been up to that night.

Given that you had no holiday plans other than drinking Bailey’s-spiked hot chocolate and watching reruns of your favorite season of The Bachelor, it seemed like a no-brainer to come back to Austin. Part of you was excited for your homecoming, to return to the vibrant personality of the city that was a far cry from the east coast city you’d grown to know and love over the years. The other part of you dreaded your return, not feeling particularly excited to have to run into peers from your adolescence while you were trying to peruse the shelves of your local Costco.

You were welcomed with warm arms the moment that you walked through the door of your sister’s home—metaphorically and literally. She practically hugged you the entire way as you dropped your items off in her guest bedroom, then even more so as she directed you to her car, giving you all sorts of updates about your parents and her husband, but not allowing you to forget the whole reason that you’d come home in the first place.

“You’re not hungry or anything, right?” she asked as she hopped into the driver's seat next to you.

“I think I’m good. I ate at the airport,” you replied, slightly amused by your sister’s eagerness to get you to work immediately. Then again, you couldn’t exactly blame her when you thought about how busy she must’ve been.

“Good! I’m gonna put you right to work then. How does frosting cupcakes sound?”

It sounded fine, and it was fine for the first few hours, until the angle of the piping bag started to make the newfound cramping in your hands unbearable, and your sister had to give you an impromptu tutorial on how not to make your rosettes look so… depressing.

“Look, the Girl Scouts need this order in like, an hour, and my cashier is going home in a bit. Give yourself a little break to shake your hand out, or pee, or do whatever it is you have to do, then you can ring customers up. How does that sound?” she finally huffed, clearly just as frustrated with you for your inability to do a task that was practically second nature to her.

“Anything’s better than frosting these damn cupcakes,” you commented as you tossed your gloves into the trash. “If I never have to frost a cupcake again, it’ll be too soon.”

“I love you, which is why I have to tell you that you will be frosting so many more cupcakes in the next few days,” she laughed aloud, looking down at the army of baked goods in front of her that she was still working on meticulously frosting. “But you’ll get used to it. I’ll have Ben give you better instructions. He’s really good at this, for some reason. I’m convinced it’s because he went to art school.”

You groaned dramatically as you exited the kitchen, only to bother your sister if nothing else. After all, wasn’t it your job as a younger sibling to annoy your older sibling?

As much as you enjoyed doing random tasks that your sister needed done in the back, working in the front was definitely one of the better aspects of working at the bakery. There was far less technique involved in doing anything, and when there was downtime in the storefront, you got to passively scroll on social media, turning your brightness down so you could secretly cyberstalk people from your high school in peace.

Being that you were distracted by the phone in your hand, you paid no mind to the shrill sound of the door’s bell as it opened. As you finished up looking at someone’s engagement pictures, you glanced up once before doing a complete double take.

“Hey, I’m just here to pick up the Girl Scout order-”

There was no way.

You hadn’t seen that face in years. Hell, you hadn’t thought about that face in years, despite your mild obsession with him as a teenager.

Joel had been the definition of so close, yet so far. You seemed to always be in his orbit, butterflies in your stomach every time he leaned over his desk to ask you a question about the material or to poke fun at one of the weirder quirks your teacher had. Yet, just as you’d finally worked up the nerve to confess your feelings to him, word got around the school that he was becoming a father. After many pints of ice cream and late nights of your older sister comforting an inconsolable teenage you, you’d finally gotten over the man, letting his memory become a funny anecdote you shared to friends to display your terrible luck in love.

As much as you hated to admit it, he looked good. Obviously, he was much older now, but much to your dismay, he’d aged more like wine than like milk. Donning a new beard that somehow managed to make him even more handsome and biceps that strained against the sleeves of his shirt, he looked far more attractive than you could ever even remember him, his mature look a good one. You were sure his wife loved looking at that striking face in the morning, before she set off to take care of their adorable young daughter. Their perfect little family, still holding up despite the test of time.

You had gotten so caught up in your thoughts, you’d barely registered the fact that Joel had said your name in a tone that held a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

“I haven’t seen you in years! Since high school?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. The surprise of seeing him, let alone seeing him looking so good led you to smile dumbly and shrug. “Wow!” he remarked.

“It has been a really long time,” you grinned involuntarily, practically feeling yourself revert back to your younger, immature self simply at the sight of the man standing across from you. “How are you? How’s the family?”

“We’re good. Sarah’s turning 13 soon, which is really exciting,” Joel explained, setting a hand on his hip as he did so. You swore you could see the fondness for his daughter as he spoke. “It feels like just yesterday I was feeding her bottles and carrying her around in a sling.”

“I know, they just grow up so fast,” you agreed, as if you’d had any sort of experience in the field. The fact that Joel still had this effect on you, one that made you want to follow him around like a lost puppy and agree with every word that came out of his mouth was mildly concerning to you—particularly because he clearly had a wife and a child.

“They really do. You have any of your own?” Joel asked, looking deep into your eyes and making you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Me? No,” you dismissed before following it up with,. “I’ve been pretty focused on my career, so it’s not exactly the best time for a family. To be quite honest, I think my cats do the trick plenty well.”

“You’re still so responsible,” Joel complimented, stirring something up deep inside of you that you promptly wanted to push right back down. “Clearly, I didn’t do any family planning. I’d say it worked out pretty well, if you don’t count having to get divorced just a few years after getting married.”

This piqued your interest. You could almost feel the teenage version of yourself cheering internally at the news that Joel and the mother of his child had split. She’d always been a bit of a bitch to you, so to hear that the two of them had split had sounded like music to your ears.

“Man, that’s too bad. I always thought you two would be the one couple from our school to make it,” you lied through your teeth, hoping that your entertainment wasn’t too obvious.

Joel chuckled and shook his head, smile lines appearing seemingly out of thin air, and unfortunately making you melt on the inside, just the slightest bit.

“That’s really too bad. I mean, what happened with you guys? If you don’t mind me asking,” you were definitely taking a risk with this question, but you were hoping that the reward of the answer would be worth every bit of boldness you put together to ask.

“We just had… different ideas for our futures,” Joel explained what you could only assume was a very condensed version of what had actually occurred. “You know, she’s actually in town right now.”

“I hadn’t realized she’d left town. Should we keep our voices down then?” you asked jokingly, although it would be quite awkward if his ex wife walked in while the two of you were talking about her.

“No, we’re good,” Joel chuckled. “Sarah really wanted to see her for the holidays, and it wasn’t like I could say no to that request. Although, getting Naomi to actually come was a bit like pulling teeth. I’m sorry, this is way too much information. What about you? Any special people in your life?”

“No, Joel, you’re all good. You know how much of a gossip I was,” you offered him a genuine smile. “Unfortunately, no. Funnily enough, the thing I was dreading most about coming home is having my mom constantly on my ass about bringing home a good man.”

“I get it. It’s exhausting seeing all the PDA whenever Naomi and Henry come back. It’s like they’re rubbing in that we’re so happy together and you’re still all alone.”

“Assholes,” you remarked, rolling your eyes to show Joel just how on his side you were. “I’m sure you’ll find someone someday. I mean, both of us will. Then maybe my mom will stop bothering me and your ex will finally stop acting all high and mighty for being in a relationship.”

“I can only hope,” Joel sighed. “Well, I apologize for dumping all of my holiday woes on you when I really should just be picking up some cupcakes.”

“Oh no, I apologize for holding you up. I’ll go grab that order for you,” you said before walking off to the back, where your sister had just finished putting the final touches on the order.

“Perfect timing,” she remarked, stepping back and running her arm against her slightly damp forehead. “Who were you talking to back there?”

“Oh, no one,” you dismissed, not ready to hear her reaction. “Just giving good customer service.”

The look she gave you told you loud and clear that she didn’t believe you, but it would be a conversation for another time. Since she didn’t seem interested in pressing, you took it as your opportunity to grab the large, pink box, and bring it out to Joel.

“Here’s that order for you,” you said politely. “It was good seeing you today.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, happily taking the slightly heavy box when you offered it to him. “How long will you be in town?”

“Into the New Year, I think? Maybe earlier, maybe later,” you shrugged.

“We should get together sometime. Maybe get a coffee or something and properly catch up? I would love for you to meet Sarah, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, begging yourself not to revert back to your younger, naive self, but not exactly being able to fight it at the same time. “Well, if you ever need me, I’ll probably be here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he headed to the door. “See ya!”

As soon as the door jingled, announcing Joel’s departure, you let out a deep breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding.

Fuck. You could not be feeling this way about a man you had a crush on in high school.

Your sister always seemed to have a sixth sense for when you were getting antsy, so one evening as the two of you worked on closing the storefront, she pulled you from the monotony of sweeping the floors while listening to the sound of her new favorite pop artist to send you to the grocery store and retrieve a few items that she needed more of.

With her company card safely secured in your wallet, a short list scribbled out on a pink post-it note, and your hands closely grasping the handlebars of the cart, you amaturely navigated the grocery store, unfamiliar with the locations of the items that lined the shelves after years of not visiting Austin.

The evening in the grocery store brought you a sense of serenity, with the rush of urgent people looking to pick up the one ingredient they forgot for dinner mostly gone. After packing your cart full of sticks of butter and bags of sugar, you headed off to the get your final item, relieved to have had a mostly successful trip without running into anyone you knew in your youth.

But just as you had this thought, you caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of your eye. Dark hair and beard imprinted in your mind after your brief interaction with him just one day ago. You did your absolute best to pretend you didn’t see him as you inspected a bag of flour, keeping your head lowered, and gaze averted. Yet, your efforts were futile, as just moments later, you heard your name called aloud as the man approached you.

“Hey!” he said cheerily, blissfully unaware that you were attempting to use the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ method on him just moments ago. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been like forever,” you added on, looking into his eyes and almost immediately regretting your decision as your gut was immediately consumed with a swarm of rabid butterflies. “What’re you doing here?”

“Grabbing some groceries,” he answered sweetly, despite that being the obvious answer to your not-so-great question.

Duh. What else did people come to the grocery store for? What a stupid question. See? Joel just made you so… stupid! Even after all of the years you’d spent apart.

“Sarah wanted to try making some Christmas cookies to bring to her mom, so…” he trailed off, gesturing down at the flour that was now in his hand. “Got any tips on the best flour to get?”

“That’s definitely more of my sister’s wheelhouse. I just do whatever she needs me to do, like go and get,” you glanced down at your list before continuing for comedic effect, “White miso paste.”

Joel smiled fondly at your joke, only making your insides melt further.

“Remind me to stop by and try whatever has that white miso paste in it. Sounds interesting,” Joel grabbed a package of all-purpose flour and tossed it into his cart, before leaning on his cart.

Fuck. Why did he have to be so endearing, with his smile lines and his kind eyes, and his insistence on treating you like you were the only other woman in the world, despite the other woman customer just standing feet away from you two.

“I definitely will. Has your number changed in the past thirteen years?” you asked, not sure what had gotten into you with the slightly flirty move.

He shook his head, his eye briefly catching on something and causing him to pause in his movements before he returned to the conversation, now looking slightly off in a way that he hadn’t looked just a moment ago. You were so stupid. Of course you trying to flirt back would’ve backfired. You needed to excuse yourself before you managed to embarrass yourself any more than you already had.

“It has not,” he confirmed, smiling at you once more, but not looking like his heart was completely into it. “Any chance you’re checking out?”

“I am!” you said a little too enthusiastically, which Joel responded to by somewhat urgently beginning to walk to the check-out lane. Given that he hadn’t told you goodbye, you followed him like the lost puppy that you were around him.

Just as the two of you stopped in line and had mostly finished checking out, Joel finally seemed to unclench from whatever he’d seen (or whatever you’d said) that had bothered him before. Yet, as soon as it was over, you noticed that same tension washed over him once more.

“Oh, Naomi. Henry,” Joel said, his tone taking a complete 180 from what he had just had with you moments ago, and his change in demeanor suddenly made sense to you. “Didn’t realize you two were in town yet.”

You glanced over to the woman who had seemingly appeared out of thin air to ruin your moment with Joel, just like she had done in high school a million times over. Who you hadn’t recognized was the man next to her, looking a little too put together for someone who had likely just gotten off a flight and was headed to the grocery store.

“Joel,” she said artificially sweetly, the one singular word drenched in annoyance. “We just got in. We’re grabbing groceries for the hotel.”

“I didn’t realize chocolate chips were groceries,” Joel muttered to himself as he evaluated their basket. You were slightly surprised by the sass he had seemed to equip out of nowhere, a far cry from the southern charm he had displayed with you in your past interactions. You desperately wanted to leave the situation, which was clearly none of your business.

“Surely, you remember your ex-wife having a sweet tooth,” the man on her side replied defensively, wrapping an arm around her protectively.

“Something like that,” he replied, glancing over at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite read.

With tensions boiling over with just a few words stated, you finally decided to step in, impulse and instinct guiding you.

“Hey honey, I think we need to get going,” you said, internally cringing as the words left your mouth. Joel’s now wide eyes made contact with your unsure ones and your furrowed brows as you attempted to tell him to just go with it without a single word.

The good thing for you was that Joel was a quick learner, and his hand quickly found the small of your back. Something in Naomi’s expression changed, just for a moment, before she went back to her stone cold facade. You hoped that Joel caught it, the same way that you did.

“Yeah, we don’t want to keep you too long, since we’ll be seeing you plenty this holiday season,” Naomi replied, flashing you a fake smile. “I didn’t realize you two were together. I’ve never heard Joel say anything about you.”

You were sure the sentiment was supposed to hurt your feelings, but you were more unsurprised by the sentiment than anything else.

“Some of us like to leave our personal lives personal,” he shot back, glancing at you before bringing his glare back to his ex-wife.

“Well, that’s cute. I remember, you had the biggest crush on Joel back in the day. Glad you two ended up together,” she laughed and your stomach dropped. Were you that obvious in the past? “Anyway, we’re gonna go to a less busy lane. See you at dinner, Joel. And maybe you, too?” She looked you up and down, and for a second you felt like you were in the hallways of your high school once again, trying your best to avoid the passive aggression of a particularly mean girl.

“Right. Bye,” he said simply, watching the pair walk away as if he were scared that they would turn back around at some point and bother Joel some more.

“Fuck,” he muttered aloud as soon as they were out of earshot, his hand falling away from your back and back to his side.

You immediately launched yourself into a rambling apology, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything, they just looked like they wanted to eat you alive and-“

“No, no, don’t apologize. I appreciate what you did back here. I mean, you saw the look on her face when she thought we were together?”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed out, which also acted as a cover for the deep sigh of relief you needed to let out. “Is she always so shocked when she thinks you’re dating someone new?”

“Well, I haven’t dated much since the divorce,” he explained as the two of you began exiting the building. “So I guess I didn’t really know what to expect. But it totally delivered.”

You couldn’t help but smile as the two of you walked out to your cars together and Joel confessed that not only was he single, but that he hadn’t really seen anyone. Not that it really mattered to you, considering that the two of you had absolutely no shot together.

You weren’t exactly sure where Joel had parked, but he’d offered to help unload your groceries into your car, and you weren’t exactly going to decline that offer.

“Thank you, again for helping me out tonight,” Joel said as he helped place bags in the trunk of the car. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Actually, there is one thing.”

—

Every year, you absolutely dreaded your family’s holiday celebrations. Specifically, the celebrations where you showed up without a date, and had to spend the night downing eggnog to drown out the sound of your family asking you when you were going to settle down and bring a grandchild, or niece, or nephew into the family.

But this year, you didn’t have to worry about that issue. After running into Joel at the grocery store and briefly pretending to be his partner, he’d agreed to do the same for you at a family holiday party, and to be completely honest, you couldn’t be more excited.

“Again, thank you,” you said to Joel as he opened the passenger door to his truck for you, politely standing at the side of it as you got in.

“It was really the least I could do after you saved my ass back there in the store,” he dismissed, closing the door behind you before getting back into the car.

“I mean, I couldn’t just stand there and let you suffer,” you explained, glancing over at the man as he settled into the seat and started the car. He’d certainly dressed up more than usual for the event, a nice red sweater nicely complimenting your green sweater, and his hair styled nicely. For a second, you thought about your younger self, and how she probably would’ve given anything for a night like this—to just play pretend with Joel just for a moment, since he clearly didn’t see you the way you saw him.

“Well, I appreciate it,” he dismissed, sending you a quick, charming smile before beginning to pull out of the driveway. “Anything I need to know about your family?”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “Where do I start?”

You more or less talked Joel’s ear off on the drive over, filling him in on family members to avoid; overbearing aunts who would attempt to examine him like a lab specimen, uncles who would try to quiz him on his knowledge of local sports teams, and the occasional family friend, who seemed to be just as crazy as your actual kin. Joel listened politely, taking in all of the information, and throwing in some commentary every now and then, but surely making mental notes on who to try to avoid.

Once you finally arrived at the car-lined street, Joel once again opened the door for you like the gentleman he was, before allowing you to lead the way to the christmas-light adorned house that was clearly bustling on the inside. As the two of you walked up to the porch, Joel looked at you rather earnestly.

“Did I scare you in the car? I promise they’re not all that bad,” you began to attempt to explain, nerves bubbling in your stomach as you thought about how Joel surely wanted to go home.

“No, no, you didn’t scare me,” he assured you, reaching over to brush a stray hair out of your face. “I just… I never got the chance to tell you how good you look. I wanted to say something when you first got in my car, but I guess I got scared. You always look good, but you kinda took my breath away.”

Fuck, you internally groaned. Why did he have to tell you that? Was he just trying to get into character or something? You couldn’t even gather the words for how it made you feel before the front door was swinging open with one of your favorite aunts at the door greeting you.

“Hello, my love!” she practically squealed as she pulled you into a hug. “And who is this?”

“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you introduced, only slightly alarmed at how easily the word rolled off your tongue.

“Hello, ma’am,” Joel said warmly, setting out a hand for her to shake, which was rejected in favor of a hug. He was clearly a bit caught off guard by it, but also clearly a little into it.

“Sorry,” you whispered to him once she let go and the two of you were ushered inside. “We’re a hug family. I probably should’ve warned you about that on the ride over.”

“I don’t mind, I promise,” he assured you, gently grabbing your hand and looking to you for some sort of assurance. You smiled at him then subtly nodded, lacing your fingers in between his in an act that you hoped would be as practical as it was performative.

As the two of you navigated through the house, you made pleasant small talk with all who you encountered, with you proudly introducing Joel as your boyfriend, and him taking the lead in introducing himself from time to time. After an exhausting hello tour, you had finally made it to the kitchen for drinks, something you’d surely need if you were going to keep up at this rate of socialization.

As you grabbed Joel the beer he’d requested and began to spoon out ladles of the bowl that was tape-labeled ‘ADULT Punch’ into your own cup, you were slightly surprised that you’d finally ran into your mother.

“Hi honey,” she squealed, pulling you into a hug. “How long have you been here? You avoiding me?”

While past experiences of being single during the holiday season and having to interact with your mother often ended up with you suffering for the entirety of the night–or an entire week, like the time she tried to set you up with a coworker’s son–you felt a newfound confidence with the knowledge that Joel was just a few feet away from you, diligently playing the perfect boyfriend.

“We just got here,” you giggled at her typical overbearing self. For once, your guard was down, knowing that she would not be attempting to set you up with anyone, or hounding you about coming home and settling down with a nice local.

“We?” she asked dramatically, brows raised in surprise. “Is your sister somewhere around here, or something?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” you feigned offense as she stepped back to look at the two drinks in your hands. “I brought my boyfriend,” you glanced back at Joel, who was right where you left him, making enthusiastic smalltalk with one of your cousins about the Cowboys game. Like a good little fake boyfriend, upon catching your eye he excused himself from his conversation and walked over to you and your mother.

“Mom, this is Joel, my partner,” you explained, as your gentlemanly fake boyfriend grabbed your mother’s hand and gave it a polite kiss. You certainly hadn’t forgotten about his charm back in the day, but to watch it up close and personal after so much time had passed was undoubtedly having a bit of an effect on you.

“I’ve heard all about you. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he gushed. You had to give credit where credit was due, Joel was a great actor. You’d given him a bit of backstory on your mom on the ride over to the house, and you’d certainly discussed her while the two of you were students, but definitely not to the extent that he was playing up.

“So nice to meet you,” she replied, her cheeks warming at her interactions with the man. Joel was laying it on thick, but it seemed to be working for her. “Miller, right?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed, flashing a pearly white smile at your mother. As you watched the interaction, you were doing your best to keep it together, partially wanting to laugh out loud at Joel’s overdramatic chivalrous act, and partially wanting to melt into a puddle over just how alluring he was.

“Then I’ve also heard a lot about you. My daughter had the biggest crush on you in high school! It’s so funny that you’ve ended up together now. I suppose God’s timing is always right?”

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth gaped open for a second as your mother reinforced your little secret that Joel had heard from someone else just a few days ago. Suddenly, you were feeling a lot less like a liquidy puddle, and more like the bark of a firm tree–if that tree could experience mortification. If you didn’t need it before, now you really needed that drink. He glanced at you and smiled cheekily before looking back at your mother.

“So I’ve heard,” he said with a smirk, clearly biting back a laugh. You were going to kill your mother. And maybe Naomi too, while you were at it. In fact, you might just add yourself into the mix. It certainly couldn’t hurt. Or at least, it would hurt less than the discomfiture of your fake boyfriend hearing from everyone about the huge crush you had on him.

“Mom! I think your other daughter just got here. Why don’t you go say hi to her and Ben?” you suggested, knowing that the best way to prevent her from embarrassing you any further was to distract her with the idea of embarrassing her other child in front of her significant other.

You clearly knew your mother well, because the strategy worked well enough to get her off your tail. You passed Joel his beer as he watched you closely, the same mischievous smirk lingering on his face long after your mother had left.

“Crush, huh?” he teased you, causing you to shake your head as you took a healthy sip from a deceptively strong punch.

“Shut up,” you groaned. “Please.”

As the night went on, you realized that you couldn’t have picked a better candidate to pretend to be your boyfriend at a family gathering. Joel was quite sociable and polite, even more so with a beer in his system. He didn’t even mind entertaining your family members on his own as you went off and caught up with the few members of your family that you could tolerate for more than a few minutes at a time.

Following a rather chaotic series of discussions including when you and Joel were getting engaged (never, I mean, in the next few years. Probably.), the most romantic thing you’d done (backpacking through Europe, according to Joel), and what it was like reconnecting with your high school crush (fucking fantastic), you’d finally lost track of Joel. You did a quick lap around the house before bumping into your sister and cousin, the latter of which desperately described her need for air.

The three of you huddled together outside on the deck, the spot where you seemed to find yourselves at almost every family function regardless of how fun or stressful it ended up being. While you were enjoying the mayhem of the party and enjoying your time with Joel even more, it was nice to have a little break from it all.

“I can’t believe you’ve been home for just a few days and you’ve already gotten your childhood crush wrapped around your finger,” your sister laughed, comfortably leaning against the railing of the deck.

“That’s the power of working for a Fortune 500. All of the men in your hometown just want a sugar mommy for a little bit. Get some presents for the kids and wife for free,” you joked.

“You’re kidding?” your cousin asked, her brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“I’m kidding,” you confirmed. “You know, we aren’t even actually dating,” you confessed, lips and tongue loose from your second glass of punch.

“What?” your cousin and sister exclaimed at the same time, the two of them suddenly very alert.

Even in your not-completely-there state of mind, you could tell that you had made a mistake telling your secret. It was now very likely that the entire house would know the truth within the next hour, or that you would not be hearing the end of how terrible an idea the whole ordeal was for months on end.

“I figured you two just hit it off, or had some long distance thing going on?” your sister questioned, peering at you curiously as if your face would reveal some sort of information about your arrangement.

“Nope. It’s kinda a long story, but I guess the short of it all is that we’re pretending to be together for the holidays so certain people get off our asses,” you said casually, finishing off your drink and looking out into the backyard rather than making eye contact with either of your kin.

“Fair enough,” your cousin sighed, finally relaxing once more. “If I wasn’t already seeing Will, I’d probably do the same.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? He really broke your heart,” your sister asked, grabbing your arm to attempt to force you to look at her, and staring at you with concern.

You were sure you could imagine what was going through her head in the moment, the vision of your heartbroken teenage self and the sound of your prolonged sobs as you questioned what your crush saw in her that he couldn’t see in you. You really couldn’t blame her for being worried. She was your older sister, after all, the task of protecting you instilled in her from the day you left the womb, and clearly not gone now. But things were different now. You were all adults, you had more life experience and perspective, and most importantly, whatever was going on between you and Joel wasn’t real, regardless of how much you might have wanted it to be.

“Yeah, when we were eighteen. I think it’ll be fine,” you dismissed, as if anything was ever that simple.

“And he seems like a sweetie now. I think my own parents were wishing I brought him home for the holidays,” your cousin, ever the peacekeeper, added as she attempted to diffuse the quickly escalating tension between you and your sibling.

“He was also a sweetie thirteen years ago when he led you on, then got someone pregnant,” your sister snapped back with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her back to you.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you declared, watching your breath float away in a cold puff of air. “Can we go inside now? I think my toes are gonna fall off.”

After a side eye from your sister and a nod of agreement from your cousin, the three of you headed back inside, where you made quick work of grabbing yet another drink and finding the fireplace.

A few couches were arranged by the fireplace, some filled from edge to edge with sleeping, snuggling children who were exhausted by the excitement of a holiday party, others with some of the older members of your family who simply needed a break from it all. Among them all, you were surprised to find Joel, enthusiastically talking to none other than your father.

Your father was probably one of the most difficult people in your life to impress. He’d maybe told you that he was proud of you a total of five times in your life. Yet, he looked content, hell, happy as he spoke to your fake boyfriend.

Part of you felt bad as you found your way to the empty spot on the couch next to Joel, but you were cold, and you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity to warm up by the fire and the man that you had found was a bit of a human furnace.

When Joel caught sight of you, he smiled and beckoned you over, and you made quick work of maneuvering yourself past the coffee table between the couch. Once you sat down, Joel surprised you by greeting you with a gentle peck on the lips. The action temporarily shocked you, and you desperately hoped that the feeling was not reflected on your face. The naturalness of it all almost felt as if you’d done it a thousand times, and you tried your best to suppress the part of you that wanted to do it a thousand more.

“Hi honey,” Joel greeted you sweetly, his hand almost immediately finding yours. It all felt so right, and if you weren’t so endeared by him in the moment, you certainly would’ve been mildly panicking.

“It was nice meeting you, Joel, but I’m old and I’m tired, so I’m gonna head out,” your father explained, giving you a half nod as he began to stand up.

“Bye, dad. I’ll see you on Christmas?” you asked him, ignoring the panicked look that Joel was certainly sending your way.

“Sounds like a plan. Love you. Get home safe,” he bid the two of you farewell before leaving without much other fanfare.

“Why didn’t you tell me that was your dad?” Joel asked you, looking at you with wide eyes. You laughed a little bit at his panic, finding the dumbfounded look on his face more adorable than you’d like to admit.

“Thought it might’ve come up in conversation, or something,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day, mixed with the criminally strong punch set in. “Why do you care so much? Trying to make a good impression, Miller?” you teased.

“You’re the worst,” he groaned, then laughed as you snuggled up to his side. You weren’t exactly sure whether the laugh was coming from discomfort or relief, but with the bone-deep cold you were feeling and alcohol in your system, you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to care. “You’re also really cold. Are you okay?”

“Mmm, you’re really warm,” you replied, settling against his warm body unconsciously.

“Someone’s feeling the punch,” he replied, wrapping an arm around you as you closed your eyes.

“It was way stronger than it needed to be,” you agreed in a murmur against his sweater. “Thank you for being such a good fake boyfriend tonight.”

“It was actually pretty fun. I like your family a lot,” he confessed, trying his best to maintain eye contact with you despite the fact that you were in the express lane to dreamland and your blinks were beginning to turn into miniature naps.

“Everyone liked you too. I owe you,” you yawned, dropping your head from the soft fabric of his sweater to the denim of his jeans.

“Mhm. Wanna head home?” he asked.

“How’d you know?” you responded as Joel chuckled above you.

The ride back home was a mostly quiet one, with Christmas music playing softly on the radio and you dozing off in the passenger seat. Every now and then Joel glanced over at you, and the few times that your eyes were actually open, you wondered what it was that he was thinking. Was he checking up on you to make sure you were still alive? Probably. But you just swore there was something else in his eyes, something you’d seen when Ben looked at your sister, or when your parents looked at each other.

But that was probably just the exhaustion speaking.

Once you arrived at your sister’s place, Joel made quick work of helping you get inside safely, even helping you get to bed at your own insistence. Even in your not sober and exhausted state, you knew that you didn’t want the night to end. Even in your less than ideal state of mind, you knew that the way you were feeling about Joel was unsustainable.

—

The soft, dim lighting of a restaurant that felt fancy even for you seemed to beam down on you, encouraging little beads of sweat to collect at your forehead and the creases of your arms. As much as you were desperately trying to maintain the appearance of being cool and collected, your staccato breaths, wobbly smile, and the rapidly appearing perspiration were quite clearly selling you out. You couldn’t help but to stare down at your menu like it was the most interesting thing in the world, the intimidation of sitting across from your fake partner’s ex-wife’s heated glare far more intense than what you’d expected. Far worse than sharing a brief, yet artificial moment of PDA in a grocery store, and far more than you expected to be able to handle. Yet, Joel had done the same for you, and really, it was only fair that you would do the same.

After the Christmas party, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from your date. As far as you knew, Joel had only agreed to play pretend with you for one night, and as fun as that night was, it was all fake.

As much as you hated to admit it, your sister was maybe, just a little bit right about the whole ordeal not being your best idea. You couldn’t help but think about the two of you at the party—how he’d held your hand like your hands were two pieces of a puzzle that were made for each other, how he cuddled with you on the couch and looked at you with such genuine concern when he thought you might not be well, but above all, you were stuck on his confession to you, about how beautiful you looked and how scared he was to tell you.

You couldn’t believe that you were still making these kinds of stupid decisions, the type of decisions that made you want to lay in bed all day with a pint of ice cream and a soap opera playing on the revision, and not do work—the very work that you came back to Austin to do.

But despite your urge to shut down, you tried your absolute best to do what you set out to do. You spent hours tossing ingredients in mixers, whipping egg whites into stiff peaks, and narrowly avoiding burning yourself as you took trays out of the oven. Only at the end of the day, as you wiped your forehead with a flour-covered arm and checked your phone did you realize that you’d missed a call from Joel.

After a quick call-back and an explanation to your sister that you would no longer be third wheeling the night’s tree-lighting ceremony with her, you had somehow managed to renew your little agreement with Joel. Your task being a performance of being the perfect, dream girlfriend to Joel Miller, a task that you hoped you would be up for.

But as you sat at the table next to Joel, nearly sweating your mascara off, you began to question the extent of your capabilities within this particular role.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Naomi began, the sharp wing of her eyeliner and the depths of her eyes feeling like they were poking and prodding into you, searching for any weakness or insecurity to be exploited. “What are you up to these days?”

“Well, apart from making the most of my time with Joel,” you looked over at him with what you hoped appeared to be adoration, but probably came across more accurately as the fear you were experiencing, and grabbed his bicep–what you hoped to appear like a fond move, but was something more like you bracing onto him for dear life. “I’m a consultant in New York City. It definitely takes up a lot of my time, but it also feels like every second of free time I have, I’m spending it on the phone with this one.”

You and Joel chuckled, your choked out laugh feeling far more artificial than his. You hoped to whatever powers above that you would somehow manage to convince the couple across from you to believe a story that you could barely even believe yourself, although, with the way that Naomi was still glaring at you, you doubted that being the case.

“That sounds fun,” she replied, leaning forward slightly as if she was ready to sink her teeth into you two and absolutely tear you apart. “So how’d you two reconnect?”

Joel, clearly sensing your discomfort, came to your rescue with a quick, preplanned answer. “Remember when I took Sarah to Manhattan earlier this year?” Joel began, averting his gaze from you and onto his ex, who now shot Joel a pleasant, yet, rehearsed smile.

“Mhm,” she replied, seemingly already entertained by where the story might end up going.

“Well, we ran into each other at a coffee shop a few blocks away from her workplace and really just hit it off. The rest is history,” he said, turning his attention back towards you.

“You two were hitting it off in front of our daughter?” Naomi asked, the slight tilt to her head and hint of smirk on her face revealing that her question was less out of concern for their child, and more out of taking an opportunity to antagonize the two of you.

“It was more like reconnecting. I swear, Joel is the only person in the world to think that recommending my favorite bagel shop in the city is flirting,” you attempted to save, not wanting to be labeled as a threat to their child just a few minutes into dinner.

“To my credit, you were selling it pretty hard. You were practically saying, ‘come with me to get bagels tomorrow,’” Joel added on, seemingly lighting up as the two of you added more and more to your fake meet-cute.

“Next time you visit we’ll get all the bagels you want, my love. We can even split them Lady and The Tramp style,” you giggled, feeling your cheeks warm as you imagined you and Joel at the opposite ends of one cream cheese filled bagel.

“Okay, yeah, I get it. I was just joking, anyway,” she replied, clearly fed up with the two of you.

“Sorry,” you apologized, actually feeling a little bad about how long your little bit had gone on. “What about you two? How’d you and Henry meet?”

“It’s actually a pretty cute story,” Henry spoke up after being a passive spectator for an uncomfortable period of time. “Noms had just moved out west a little bit after the divorce, and the two of us met in a yoga class. I accidentally took her yoga mat, and it was… what did you say earlier? The rest was history?”

The two of them shared an intimate laugh, one that indicated that they were referencing some sort of inside joke, just as you and Joel had earlier after you’d shared what you’d been doing with your life since high school. You glanced over at Joel, his pressed smile and slightly furrowed brows a clear indicator that he was not impressed by the two of them. Thankfully, before the tension could go any further, a kind waitress interrupted the conversation with the simple question of whether or not your table was ready to order.

Shortly after ordering, the conversation picked up once again. While you occasionally were able to ask a question or two about the couple sitting across from you, it above all felt like you and Joel were being interrogated about the nature of your relationship. Lies easily flowed from both of your tongues, sandwiched between fond looks shared between the two of you as if there was no one else in the room, and stolen moments of physical affection that seemed to warm you from the inside-out.

As the two of you added more and more onto your story, the more you began to yearn for the more intricate details of it all to be true.

You wanted to receive a bouquet of flowers on your doorstep from someone almost two-thousand miles from you, just because he’d been thinking about you. You wanted to have a reason to come back and visit the city you grew up in, and to learn about every new hole-in-the-wall shop that had come to mean a lot to him. You wanted to take on his hobbies, and have him take on some of yours despite you both being terrible at them, solely because you knew that the other cared about it. The longer the night went on, the clearer everything became: you wanted all of this and more with Joel, but you’d clearly never be able to have him.

It was no longer a question to you of if your arrangement should end, and had clearly become a matter of when it was going to end. No matter how much fun you were having holding Joel’s hand under the table and feeding the man next to you bites of scallop, you knew it wasn’t sustainable to be feeling so strongly about a situation that had been doomed from the start.

You were undoubtedly treading a very thin line between getting your hopes up for what wasn’t, but could be, and savoring every last second you had with Joel, pretending to be something that the two of you were very obviously not. With the arrival and passing of dessert, and the final spoonfuls of a split chocolate cake, you’d realized that your time with Joel had ended; a conclusion as bitter as the dark chocolate garnish on your shared plate.

The two of you held hands once more as you walked out to his car, fingers lingering together even after the couple you’d been putting a show on were safely tucked away in their own vehicle. You didn’t talk much on your ride back home, the air thick with a tension that made you wonder if Joel had come to a similar conclusion of his own during dinner. The radio filled in the silence where words lacked, covers of Christmas songs filling in for the conversation that surely should’ve been occurring.

After a ride that felt like it had lasted forever and no time at all, you had finally arrived at your sister’s place, the final resting ground for whatever your relationship had been.

“Thanks,” you said as you unclipped your seatbelt, wanting to rip the bandaid off and leave as quickly as humanly possible, while also lingering in his car forever. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” he looked at you for a moment as if he had something more to say, but was holding his tongue. Taking one long look at your face, then offering you a weak half smile, he spoke once more. “You too.”

Though you were mildly disappointed when you didn’t hear back from Joel, you couldn’t say that you were particularly surprised. Everything about your final encounter in his truck indicated that the very brief chapter in both of your lives of pretending to be what you both were not was over. Still, you couldn’t deny the remnant ache in your chest when your father asked where your boyfriend was over Christmas dinner, or the pathetic way that you secretly hoped every ring of the bakery door would deliver you Joel Miller, much like your first day back in Austin did.

Once again, you attempted to drown yourself in your work, working from open to close at your sister’s bakery and ending the day with sore legs, flour in your hair, and an intense desire to never consume anything sweet ever again. You somehow even managed to convince your boss to let you clock a few virtual hours at your actual job, spending all of the time that you were not at the bakery in your temporary bedroom, doing whatever tasks would set you ahead by the time you returned to work.

You realized you weren’t being particularly subtle with the fact that you were trying to distract yourself from something, and while your sister did her best to be whatever it was that you needed during such a bizarre time, she didn’t exactly press, though you were sure she had a bit of an idea of what was making you feel so down.

“Hey, I have a catering job for us,” she informed you one morning as the two of you worked side-by-side.

“When? You remember I’m leaving tomorrow, right?” you sighed, hoping your sister recognized your mild annoyance as less with her, and more with your time in Austin as a whole. You desperately wanted to leave, but you’d promised to stay until the new year began, when orders typically began to slow down. (“Resolutions,” she told you over the phone as you prepared to come back home.)

“Of course I remember,” she shook her head playfully as she spoke to you. “It’s tonight. At the Spoke. They’re doing some New Year’s Eve thing, and I think it’ll be fun.”

“I think maybe we have two different definitions of fun,” you commented, continuing to roll out the piece of dough in front of you.

“Oh, come on. What were you going to be doing anyway?” she pressed you, her attempt to get you to get out of the house clear as day now. “Working in your bedroom during your break? Sulking for reasons you refuse to share with me? Watching episodes of The Bachelor that you’ve seen a hundred times already?”

“Ugh, okay, okay. I’ll do it. We’ll do it,” you finally conceded.

“Good! Now, do you want a coffee? We’re gonna have a lot of trays to finish today.”

You couldn’t deny that it made you feel a little bit better knowing that you had somewhere fun to go that night. Despite living in Texas for the first portion of your life, you’d never had the opportunity to go to any sort of dance hall, and though you’d probably be spending the majority of your time distributing cupcakes to people, you were excited to be doing something fun regardless.

After your longest and final shift at the bakery, your sister hugged you as tight as she could manage and thanked you for everything you’d helped her accomplish this holiday season, before sending you back home to get dressed up for the dance hall. After deciding to go full cowgirl with your attire, you peered in your sibling’s closet for any article of clothing that you could borrow for the night, and ultimately left her closet with a completely different wardrobe.

Even as you and your sister arrived at the dance hall early to set up, patrons were already beginning to flood into the venue. Their excited energy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but feel invigorated, your downtrodden feelings being replaced with much more positive ones.

As the night went on, you found yourself having more and more fun, whether it was from distributing pastries to rosy-cheeked dancers who paused to take a break from the floor, or flirty gentlemen who took the brief moment of your fingers touching over a distributed cupcake to ask to buy you a drink. While you were sure that you would’ve had a decent time doing nothing at home, then popping a bottle of champagne at midnight, the night was certainly shaping up to be a memorable one.

Time seemed to be flying by as you stood by the table, offering cupcakes to whoever passed you by. It wasn’t long before Ben arrived, and your sister was excusing herself from the table to share a dance with her partner. You watched the two of them with adoration, thinking of how you would love to have someone to come sweep you off your feet and offer to dance with you–well, someone other than a sweaty patron. As much as you’d tried to convince yourself over the years that you weren’t cut out for relationships, your trip and weird fake dating arrangement with Joel had made you realize something of the opposite. Maybe you’d be ringing in the New Year with a Hinge download.

After passing out the final cupcake you had, you began to break down boxes and put away some of the other items you’d brought to help the distribution process go more smoothly. With your back turned to the dance floor as you dropped leftover napkins into a plastic bag, you were surprised as you heard a familiar voice greet you from behind.

“Joel?” you said as you looked up at the patiently waiting person, surprised to see his face after such an abrupt ending and a period of radio silence between the two of you.

“Hi,” he said, almost shyly.

“Hi. Sorry, we just ran out of cupcakes” you stated, trying to pretend that things were business as usual between the two of you–whatever business as usual meant now.

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off before ditching the idea altogether, surely figuring that whatever he had to say was more important than an explanation of how he was uninterested in the treats you were serving. “Can we talk?”

“I mean,” you hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be better to avoid everything altogether and simply move on with your life. You could simply tell him no, hop on a plane the following afternoon, then never think about Joel again. It would all be so simple and easy–the exact opposite of what your relationship had spiraled into during your time back in Austin. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s talk.”

The truth was, as easy as you would’ve liked it to be, you were intrigued by Joel’s nervous body language. As he shifted from foot to foot and subtly picked at his hand, you imagined him walking into the hall with his friends, or whoever it was that he came with, seeing you, and immediately going to leave the venue, only staying from the coercion and peer pressure of his peers. You imagined him spending the night working up the nerve to come say to you what was left unspoken the last time the two of you talked, hoping that the beers in his system and all of the dancing would finally get enough jitters out of him to finally address you.

“I’m all ears,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest in a subconscious protective measure. Even though he could do no physical harm to you, your brain was all too aware of the damage he’d done to your heart in the past.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not reaching out to you after our dinner, and for being an oblivious idiot in high school. And I guess, for being an oblivious idiot now,” he began to blather, glancing down nervously at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

You were surprised by his words and slightly unsure of what to say, or even think in response. Now that you had heard his apology, you were beginning to have an idea of the direction that this confession was likely going to take, and you couldn’t tell if you should be leaping for joy or finding the nearest exit. Maybe you could figure out a way to do both, jumping and skipping as you left through the fire exit.

Joel began to search for his next words and you tried to ignore the racing heartbeat in your chest as you attempted to search for your own. Just when you were thinking that it would be impossible for your situation to get any more uncomfortable, a man slightly shorter than Joel and who oddly resembled him sauntered up to the table where the two of you were attempting to speak.

“It’s gonna be twelve soon! Come dance!” the man shouted at Joel, his accent heavy and his words slurred as he grabbed onto Joel’s flannel sleeve. Joel shot him a dirty look, one that clearly communicated his annoyance, but didn’t exactly scream surprised.

“Not now, Tommy,” Joel reprimanded, his gritted teeth and tense demeanor making you want to laugh–if not for his reaction, then over the surrealistic nature of the scene. Mere moments into some sort of apology or confession, the two of you had been interrupted by his intoxicated acquaintance asking him to dance.

“Yes now, Joel. C’mon, lighten up!” the man practically whined, eliciting an exasperated eye roll from Joel. He looked back at you with tense shoulders and worry in his eyes, and you couldn’t exactly tell if he was looking for backup or sympathy. Instead of responding to him with either, you gave him a shy shrug of approval.

“We can talk while we dance?” you suggested, part of you hoping that maybe the distraction of doing something else while you spoke would make your conversation a little less difficult.

Taking Joel’s hand, you followed the men out to the dance floor, where Tommy had disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared to interrupt Joel’s confession. Part of you wondered if this had been premeditated, or if Joel’s drunk friend was simply not able to read the room.

“Before we start, I have a confession of my own,” you began, hoping that what you were about to say would at least lighten up the mood of your conversation. Clearly, the two of you struggled with communicating your feelings, and you hoped sharing what you were prepared to share would at least be helpful in opening up a line of communication.

“Yeah?” he said hopefully. You tried your best to fight the smile that was threatening to appear on your face at the sound of his tone, but ultimately failed.

“I don’t have a damn clue how to do this,” you confessed, glancing over at the pairings around you moving together as if they had done these steps a million times–and knowing your town, they probably had.

“It’s fine,” he said without an ounce of judgment in his voice. “I’ll teach you how.”

And he did, his mouth pressed closely to your ear as he counted off numbers in time with the live band just a few feet away from you, and directed your body left, right, back, and forward until you finally seemed to get the hang of the dance. Though there was still an elephant remaining in the room, dancing seemed to be successful in alleviating some of the tension that lingered.

“Is it okay if we continue our conversation?” Joel asked as the two of you took a synchronized step back. Your eyes were trained on your nearly matching boots, and the thought of having to face your feelings–or the lack thereof–made your stomach churn. Once again, you began to consider the most efficient exit routes.

“Of course,” you replied, doing your best to mask the nerves that had bubbled right back up as you finally met his eye.

“I was so excited to see you, when I found out you were back in town. I guess there was still part of me that wondered what things might have been like if things were different. Then I saw you in the store, and we started doing… whatever we were doing, and I just kept wanting more. It just felt so real, too real, and I started wanting more than what I could have. I mean, you live so far away, and even if you didn’t, I’m sure you have romantic prospects all over the place. Why would you settle for me?”

You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joel still thought about you? He had begun to want more in the same way that you did the more your fake relationship progressed? He thought he wasn’t good enough for you?

“Joel-” you began, his name slipping off your tongue involuntarily. You desperately wanted to dispute his claims, but he didn't let you finish.

“I guess I just wanted to apologize for how I acted. I didn’t want you to assume that things ended how they ended for any other reason other than me making terrible decisions as usual.” Once again, it was Joel’s turn to look uncomfortable, and you couldn’t exactly blame him after what he shared with you.

“I accept your apology, but it wasn’t all your fault. And you’re not an idiot,” you clarified in between a spin, finishing your sentence as Joel pulled you back to him. “I was disappointed, but I understood. Honestly, I was starting to feel the same way with you. Our fake dating was starting to feel a little too much like real dating, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up when you were clearly uninterested.”

“But I’m not uninterested,” Joel looked at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, which only seemed to be highlighted by the fact that his arm was draped across your torso, a welcome result of the spinning move. “I want to try, if you want to try. The distance is a hurdle, but we can give it a shot, at the very least. We can visit each other when we get the chance. We can watch the same episodes of The Bachelor, then discuss it afterward.”

“Oh my god, who told you about that?” you remarked, interrupting his big speech.

“Your sister. At the Christmas party,” Joel replied, his cheeks flush with the adrenaline of sharing his feelings with you and the excitement of dreaming of a future with you.

“She’s unbelievable,” you murmured, shaking your head the slightest bit before Joel continued.

“But that’s besides the point. We can send each other delivered gifts, and can talk to each other every day, like what you told Naomi.”

“What I told her when I was lying?” you asked with a laugh, reminiscing on your dinner.

“Well, yeah… But it doesn’t have to be a lie. I can come visit you, and you can come visit me. We can get bagels at your favorite shop when I come to the city. I can teach you how to dance when you come to Austin. Maybe it’s crazy, but I think we can try. Should try.”

“I would like nothing more than that,” you confessed, an honest truth that seemed to light you up from the inside. Hearing Joel’s almost crazed rant about how passionate he was about trying made you a little less afraid of your possible future together, and a whole lot more sure about your feelings for the man.

“Then let’s do it. Let’s do it right this time,” he said as the music finally came to a conclusion, being swapped out for none other than the chant of a countdown.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

As cheers of ‘Happy New Years’ rang out, Joel gently directed your face towards his, your noses and foreheads pleasantly bumping into each other. As your lips finally touched, it felt as if two puzzle pieces designed for each other and meant to be together had finally fallen into place, the rumble of fireworks outside celebrating the long-awaited union between the two of your bodies.

In the past, the affection the two of you had shared had felt real, but deep down you were aware that it was nothing more than a farce. A façade to trick judgmental exes and prying family members. But this time, the affection was different.

The growing warm feeling in your chest, the electric sparks on your skin where Joel was touching you, and the look of admiration in his eyes once you’d finally pulled away told you everything you needed to know.

This was real.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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reticulating-splines · 1 year ago

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WIP - West 70th

1880s-1910s row of Upper West Side townhomes.

Been working on this row of late 19th c. brownstones on and off for the past year now, so needless to say when I heard about For Rent I was hype.

Download Here

This initially started because I was homesick for NYC during the pandemic. Specifically for the area of the upper west side my dorm was in while I was a student. I mainly blame this experience for my obsession with historical architecture - walking along central park west past the Dakota on the way to the subway, smoking on the stoops of the brownstones late at night, going to classes in the wedding cake that is the Ansonia - it was just everywhere, and so, so beautiful to look at.

Except a lot of it is faded glory - buildings subdivided, details chipped or covered in the thickest coats of grime or paint. So I wanted to replicate some of the old New York from around the turn of the century. The one I read about in the Luxe series and saw in the Samantha movie lol.

The basement or garden level of each four-story brownstone will be dedicated to the original purpose as the main workplace of the service staff. Unfortunately no room for the actual garden, so laundry lines and planters are on the roof. There are bedrooms and bathrooms for a cook and a housekeeper/butler, along with the staff dining and the kitchen. The butler's pantry is directly upstairs from the kitchen, and the top floor is almost exclusively made up of staff bedrooms and washrooms.

I usually do the service areas first because they're the most interesting, and there was nothing more interesting than a full edwardian brownstone kitchen. Lots of exposed piping, beadboard, subway tile, and shelves of clutter. Has a separate scullery, pantry, and stairs down to a basement storeroom to keep your best champs-le-sims nectar in. There's also a servant's bellboard in the kitchen and the staff dining room. It along with the "boiler" system are made with tool and CC-free.

The main entrance and parlor are doing their best to continue the gothic revival theme of the exterior. The library and dining room follow in the enfilade starting in the parlor. Since this first house is a corner lot, it has a bit more width and space than a true brownstone. The only actual brownstone I've been inside of is Lady Mendl's, so ofc I had to have an extensive tea setup. Def took a lot of inspo from these two pics alone for these rooms.

The main stairwell and picture gallery lead to three large bedrooms on the second floor, and then up to the children's room and nanny's bedroom on the third floor. I really like skylights. I learned the importance of decent lightwells in staving off depression one semester when my window looked out onto a brick wall

The master bedroom and the children's room above it both have their own private sitting rooms and bathrooms. All rooms have either fireplaces or cast iron radiators.

There's no way this is going to be finished by the time For Rent comes out, so im just going to release it in whatever state it's in when it does come out. The exteriors and interior room layout for all the townhomes will (hopefully) most likely be set by then anyway.

Now available for download!

Also the anniversary of Chez Cromwell is coming up! Ive been gone for the better part of the year due to starting a new job, but I havent been idle. C.Cromwell has been updated for infants and ceilings, which led to me redoing the exterior and almost every room, so a rerelease is coming v soon! Sneak peek below. Happy Thanksgiving!

#sunblind by softerhaze #picture amoebe #drift reshade #heyharrie #lilis-palace #felixandresims #pierisim #reticulating builds #west 70th #the sims 4 for rent #ts4cc #the sims 4 #ts4 build #ts4 wip #sims 4 apartment #ts4 architecture

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phoneuserhana333 · 1 year ago

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.°˖✧ neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧

tags: enemies to friends to lovers, cocky!yn/annoyed!abby, mutual pining, dumb lesbians, unresolved tension, more to be added.

PART2 — PART3 — NSFWHC — N(SFW)HC

• after finishing med school, abby got a job at her dad’s private clinic outside of new york, which she quit after working there for a year

• during college, she was a victim of horrible gossip; everybody thought that she had it easy because of her dad being one of the best doctors in new york (to be fair, she was more privileged than other students because of this, but she would never admit it)

• and because of the desire to prove herself, she quit her “safe” job to go to work at the ER in the city to prove that she isn’t just somebody’s spoiled daughter who happened to be in the medical field

• she moved out closer to manhattan because of her new job, renting out a small brick red townhouse in a row of other copy-pasted houses, filling the shelves with books and the kitchen with spices. it was truly her home, which was something she took pride in.

• abby’s first interaction with her neighborhood critters went stellar; she met margaret, an old lady who lived across the street with her tortoiseshell cats clara and mima. margaret and abby grew close and she would go over to her house to have tea every saturday.

• abby’s second interaction with her neighbors however… didn’t go that as well as she thought it would

• she had some sense of what her next door neighbor was like- or at least she thought she did

• music would be blasting every night, approximately from 9pm to 6am- when she left for work. abby concluded that her neighbor was either a musician, a nepotism baby (pot calling the kettle black) or just insane.

• some days, her neighbor would be playing piano, guitar or banging on drums. on tuesdays, abby could hear her sing (“she’s screeching like a banshee manny, it’s like- 2:35am! wha- no, she doesn’t sound good, you’re just hearing things!”, she would complain to her friends) and on fridays, her mysterious musician neighbor held parties

• abby tired to be patient, but her abundant patience lasted her maybe one and a half month, before she found herself banging on her neighbor’s front door, dressed in a muscle tee with her hair falling out of her fishtail braid

• abby looked at her watch- 1244 steps, 4:22am, friday. she groaned and rubbed her face, realizing that she was about to meet her (probably very drunk) noisy neighbor, but to abby’s surprise- the door didn’t open

• she could hear the music turn down and a few girlish giggles behind the door, confusing her further

• right as the blonde started knocking again, the lights turned off and she could hear a familiar voice yell- “nobody’s home! go away!”, followed by muffled laughter

• this pushed abby over the edge- countless nights of sleeplessness, an irregular meal schedule and long day shifts at the ER finally caught up to her, and her annoying neighbor was about to be on the receiving end of her wraith

• “you’re troublesome, you know that?! always being so loud during the night, while some of us have work in the morning! get out here right fucking now and turn that god-awful music down!”

• abby let out a shaky, frustrated breath, suddenly being met with a tense silence, she took a step away from the door, thinking she finally got her neighbor to quiet down for once, before she hear that same agitating voice retort-

• “… whatever, grandma!”, followed by the music turning back on, laughter and chatter continuing into the night.

• by this point, abby’s chest and face were cherry red and she was stomping back to her house, trying to ignore the pang of embarrassment and frustration in her belly

• dr. anderson fell asleep with her earbuds in and woke up with a horrendous headache, only to have to get ready for her 7am shift at the hospital

• soon enough, abby was locking the door to her townhouse, double checking the contents of her lunch bag and briefcase (a gift from her dad, duh), when she noticed it, noticed her

• dressed in a kitsch black coat with fluffy white fur around the sleeves, donning gloves and a matching baby blue scarf in the middle of god forsaken october, was her favorite next door neighbor, blissfully unaware of the death stare she was receiving

• abby felt her eye twitch when she noticed her bare legs leaning against the railing that lead to her front door- the irony

• “hey! you!” abby made her way over to her neighbor’s staircase, nearly tripping over her bags and coat, before she stopped at the bottom, staring up at her with tired bloodshot eyes and a red, scrunched up face

• “um… hi? do i know you?”

• “don’t act all sweet now, you need to be put in your place. what the hell is wrong with you-“

• on the other hand, you lazily smiled, and continued staring at her. must be my lucky day, you thought, eyeing abby’s buff body and biting your lower lip, eyes sticking to her arms which were flailing around as she yelled at you for- oh, she’s the woman from last night!

• “y’know, you could’ve just joined us, right? i don’t bite”, you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

• abby, who despite being caught off guard by your borderline flirty statement, was about to keep going off on you, suddenly got interrupted by her apple watch alarm, warning her that she’ll be late for work

• she looked back at you with storms in her eyes, her glare making you straighten up and cross your arms defensively; your neighbor wasn’t only hot, but also intimidating

• “i do. this isn’t over, you better be home later. we need to talk.”, and with that abby walked away, leaving you with the sight of her towering form disappearing in the streets of new york, prompting you to dramatically fan yourself as your body heated up from the sight

• oh, you were definitely feeling inspired now.

#abby anderson #abby #abby anderson x reader #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #abby anderson x y/n #abby angst #ellie williams #joel miller #wlw #sapphic

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lesbiankimdahyun · 7 months ago

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Desperately need the next part for summer session I WANT TO KNOW IF IM NOT A CHICKEN FOR MISS SANA PLSANDJSJS

here it is!!

SUMMER SESSION III

2.9K words

CW: scissoring, face sitting, other gay activity using toys ;)

AN: this is most likely the last installment!

[Sana x F!Reader]

Requested: Yes

“You’re gonna run out of clothes, bestie,” Chaeyoung said, “And time.”

“Ugh,” you replied, readjusting your phone to give the tiny version of your friend on FaceTime a better view. “I know I know, just tell me what you think.” You stepped back into the frame of your full length mirror so Chaeyoung could get a glimpse of your outfit. She leaned in toward the screen, trying to get a better look.

Clothes that didn’t feel right littered your floor, bed, and hung haphazardly on hangers in your wide open closet. This was your fourth outfit change and you were about to start sweating. “Well?”

Chaeyoung took in your outfit– a simple white tank with a cropped, textured, short sleeve lilac button up over it, and dark denim shorts.

“You look…” she paused. “Well, gay. Okay great! Now hurry up and add a watch or some jewelry so you can go!”

You rolled your eyes a little, picking up your phone and reaching for the jewelry stand on your dresser. “Just gay? Oh whatever, as long as I don’t look stupid.”

The blonde-haired girl beamed at you from her New York City studio apartment. “She’ll like it,” she said, then smirked. “But you didn’t need any help from me for this, really. Not when those clothes are gonna end up coming off anyway!”

“Hey!”

Her burst of laughter cut off your chances of getting a smart reply in. Chae waved at you. “My job here’s done. I gotta go meet a few friends now but good luuuuuck!” Her sing-songy voice cut off as the call ended.

You thought about sending her a snarky reply via text, but when you put on your watch and saw how close to seven it was, you decided to forgo it. Instead, you opened the chat you had going with Sana as you locked the door behind you, told her you’d be there soon, then headed for the train station.

Sana’s apartment was modern and clean, but still very personalized to her style. As she showed you around her kitchen and living space, a few things caught your eye.

“Is that like… vintage Betty Boop?” you asked.

Sana smiled at you. “Yeah,” she said, glancing up at the framed image hanging on her wall. “One of two hundred original, signed, limited edition lithographs.” She blushed a little. “I uh, I really like Betty Boop. She’s just so cute! Yet sexy...”

Her bookshelf caught your eye, too. But not for the books. In fact, only the bottom shelf had books. The rest held other personal belongings of hers. The top shelves were dedicated to perfume bottles– some new, some that must have been a few decades old. The middle shelves were full of small photos and knickknacks.

You pointed at a photo of Sana with a couple other girls on either side of her. “Who are they?” you asked, suddenly noticing just how many photos she had with the two other dark haired girls. One of them had a cute, shy gummy smile and distinct beauty marks. The other girl had a long, shoulder length wolf cut with bangs that lay perfectly across her forehead. She was intimidatingly pretty, just like the other girl.

“My best friends from home,” Sana replied, picking up the framed photo. “That’s Mina,” she said, pointing to the girl with the beauty marks. She pointed to the girl with the wolf cut. “And that’s Momo!”

“Wow,” you said. “How long have you known each other?”

Sana paused to think. “It’s been…gosh, maybe ten years? It feels like I’ve known them forever, though. I’m trying to convince them to visit next summer.”

You smiled as she set the framed photo back in its place on her shelf. “I hope they do,” you said. “They seem cool.”

When you were done admiring Sana’s space, the two of you ordered food. As you waited for it to arrive, you hung out on Sana’s couch while she introduced you to her favorite kr&b duo, UJB. While you acquainted yourself with the duo’s two idols, Jihyo and Jeongyeon, Sana made mixed drinks for the both of you.

“Their music is so good,” you said when she sat back down and handed you a glass. “Okay be real– do you have a favorite out of the two?”

Sana laughed, a sound you liked the more you heard it. “I love them both a lot,” she said, pausing to take a sip of her drink. “Obviously. But if I had to choose…” she nodded toward the shorter, raven-haired woman on the screen. “It’d be Jihyo.”

When your food finally arrived, you arranged it carefully on Sana’s coffee table while she refreshed drinks for the both of you and grabbed plates and cutlery. The mouthwatering scent of bulgogi, spicy pork, steamed mixed veggies, rice and summer salad filled the room. Sana came back with not only drinks, but two tiny shot glasses and a fresh bottle of soju.

“What’s all this?” you asked, eyeing the shot glasses as you reached for a napkin and plate.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Sana said, reaching for the remote. “But I’ve always wanted to try…” she pulled up Jennifer’s Body, ready to stream. “...the drinking game to this.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, filling your plate while Sana filled hers. “I love this movie.”

At first, you thought you wouldn’t be drinking that much considering there were only eight rules to follow for the drinking game, but Sana insisted on alternating between the pure soju and your mixed drinks. Soon you were feeling much less self conscious and a little braver with some alcohol in your system. Before long, both of your plates sat unattended with only a few bites left on each as you got more into the movie’s plot and the drinking game.

Your nerves about why Sana had invited you over in the first place were almost gone, until the scene in Needy’s bedroom was suddenly on screen and you felt a bit of heat rise to your face. You couldn’t bear to look at Sana as you watched Jennifer kneel on Needy’s bed, tucking her hair behind her ears and adjusting her glasses on top of her head. Their lips met shortly after, and you glanced away. Sana, on the other hand, sat engrossed, leaning in slightly as Needy climbed on top of Jennifer on screen and leaned down to kiss her.

“When’s the last time you kissed someone like that?” Sana asked suddenly, making you jump a little.

“Wh-what?” you forced yourself to only look at the screen, watching for a moment. “Oh, uh… it’s been a while,” you said. Without really thinking, you then said, “You?”

Sana chuckled. “Hmm. A while for me, too,” she replied. You nodded a little, suddenly very aware of how much distance had closed between you and Sana since the movie started. You had been sitting more toward the corner, facing her with one arm lazily draped over the top of the couch, and now Sana was nearly resting against your arm. You kept your eyes on the screen, swallowing hard.

Sana reached for the remote, turning down the volume of the movie. “Would you kiss me like that?”

You blushed. You nodded before your voice finally caught up with you. “Y-yes,” you said meekly, finally daring to look in Sana’s direction. She was already looking at you.

“Okay,” she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You turned to face her, and as you did, you could practically feel the energy of the room shift. The attraction between the two of you was almost palpable now, and it gave you a much-needed bit of courage.

You sat up a bit, resting your hand on her knee as you moved. You leaned in a little and so did she. You were about to tilt your head when she spoke suddenly, softly.

“I…” Sana hesitated. “I just want you to know I really do think you’re attractive, I’m not just doing this because we’ve been drinking and—”

She trailed off, eyes fixated on your mouth. Noticing this, you moved forward then, finding your confidence finally as your lips met with hers. Sana let out a muffled noise of surprise, then quickly kissed you again, giving you permission to continue.

Her lips were soft and her touches even softer. She opened her mouth a bit, inviting you in to taste her. Her hands gently pulled on your wrists, and it was all you needed to be able to lead from there. As your fingertips focused on lightly trailing over her forearms and waist, you continued to kiss her, a little deeper, then deeper still until she finally broke away to come up for air.

Sana’s cheeks were a deep, flushed pink and her eyes slightly hooded as she looked at you.

“Do you— um…” Sana struggled to find her words and bit her lip to keep a goofy smile off her face. You waited patiently, amused by this new side of hers. It was like finally, your roles had traded. You felt much more bold, while Sana seemed to only get shyer. “My room’s this way,” she said finally, getting up and taking your hand.

You barely had time to look around Sana’s room before she was pulling you down onto her bed with her. Your lips met hers again and you laid back on her bed, pulling her on top of you. Her hands pulled your short sleeve button up away from your sides as she kissed you, then moved toward your white tank tucked into your shorts. Meanwhile, you worked on Sana’s shirt, a dark off-the-shoulder long sleeve. Before you knew it, both of your clothes had been abandoned on her bedroom floor. You could see out of the corner of your eye through Sana’s window that the sun was setting, but one of her lamps turned on automatically a few moments later, filling your corner of the bedroom with an incredibly soft, yellow glow while everything else fell away to shadows.

Sana was kissing her way down your neck fervently, one hand working its way between your legs. At first you thought she was going to touch you, but then she started pulling you closer. You were confused for a moment until you figured out what she was trying to do. You took your hands away for a moment to adjust your legs and the distribution of your weight, and then Sana’s; one of her legs over yours, and one of your legs over hers.

“Better?” you asked softly, pulling Sana closer to you. In all of your experience, scissoring had never been able to make you get even remotely close to coming, but if it was what she wanted and needed to get off, you were more than willing to do it.

Sana nodded eagerly, looking down to watch as your body met with hers. You closed your eyes, stifling a moan when you felt her wetness on yours. You tried not to think about all of the other things you’d rather be doing to her, focusing instead on trying to help her grind into you. It was nearly impossible to get a good rhythm going, but your own lust skyrocketed and you found yourself grinding back against her, trying to get your aching core any sort of satisfaction and relief.

The more the two of you worked at it, the more labored both of your breathing became.

“Is…this comfortable for you?” you asked after a few minutes, panting lightly.

“Kinda,” Sana replied. Her eyes roamed everywhere over your body. She grabbed at your thighs, squeezing lightly, then set her gaze back on your mouth. She paused for a moment. “Actually…” she said, “I think I know what I’d like even better.”

She reached for you to kiss you, gently untangling her body from yours as her tongue explored your mouth. You found yourself lying down on her bed with Sana climbing on top of you. Her long, brown hair tickled your face as she kissed you, and then she stopped.

“I… want to feel you,” she said, her brown eyes looking down at you for approval. “Put that mouth to work for me?” You nodded eagerly, sliding down more so Sana had room to hover above your face. You held onto her thighs as she lowered herself down, her breath hitching when she felt your tongue on her.

You started slowly, taking your time to lick the length of Sana’s wet cunt. She held onto the headboard of her bed, eyes closed. Your tongue teased her entrance, making her gasp, and then moved toward her clit. She tried to be quiet at first, but you gave the back of her thighs a playful squeeze. “I like being able to hear you,” you murmured. “Don’t be shy.”

Sana half laughed, half moaned as you lapped at her clit. “Y-you’re one to ta– oh, there, right there,” she said. She sank lower onto your face, her thighs warm and snug against the sides of your face. “F-fuck,” she breathed, starting to roll her hips. Your own noises of delight were muffled under her pussy, but Sana appreciated them just the same.

Your chin, nose and lips became soaked in her juices as you continued to eat her out. You could tell it felt much better for Sana than scissoring had because her breathing slowly became more shallow and her once quiet moans were getting louder.

“Oh, god…” Sana’s body involuntarily shuddered a little. “That feels so…” she trailed off, grinding against your mouth a little faster. “Yes…”

But then, just as you were working yourself back into a rhythm that seemed to really please her, she stopped again. She lifted herself off of you, giving you both a few moments to catch your breath.

“Are you okay?” you asked, slightly worried. “Did I hurt you?”

Sana smiled, still panting lightly. “No, no, not at all,” she said. “I was actually…” she tucked some of her hair behind her ears. “I could’ve come like that. Well, I mean, I wanted to, but I… I think I’m too shy to come in your mouth,” she finally admitted. “But,” she added quickly, “I do want to come.”

You nodded, sitting up a bit and wiping part of your face with the back of your hand. “How would you like to?”

“Hmm.” Sana climbed toward the edge of her bed for a moment, letting the top half of her body disappear momentarily as she leaned over the side to grab a small box under her bed. You quickly looked away from checking out her hips and ass when she sat back up. When she turned to face you, she held a light purple, seven inch toy in her hand. She blushed, but you grinned.

“I can work with this,” you said. “Lie back,” you instructed, taking the toy from her. You kissed your way down her body, lightly twisting one of her nipples as you moved. You settled in between her legs, kissing and licking your way to her wet pussy.

“Do you want me to touch you too, or do you want to?” you asked softly. In response, Sana snaked one hand down between her legs, rubbing her clit lightly. Your own cunt clenched involuntarily around nothing as you positioned the head of the toy at her entrance. You rubbed it along her folds a bit, soaking it with her own juices before finally slipping the head in.

Sana threw her head back, opening her legs a little wider. “M-more,” she said. “Please.”

You prayed your own wetness would drip down your thighs instead of onto her bedding, talking to Sana softly as you worked more of the length of the toy inside her. “You look so pretty like this,” you told her. Sana rubbed her clit as you fucked her, eyes locked on you as the toy slid in and out of her dripping pussy with ease.

“God, you make that feel good,” she said, her entire body flush from pleasure.

“And you,” you said, listening to the lewd sounds of her receptive, wet pussy, “make it sound even better.” You leaned down to kiss her, letting Sana lick your lips and tongue. Her hips bucked as you fucked her, her body trying to get more of the toy inside as her fingers rubbed away at her clit desperately.

“R-right there,” Sana said after a while. Her body had been growing more and more tense the closer she got, and you could tell she was extremely close now.

“Nngh- f-fuck, there,” she reached down and put her other hand over yours, helping you fuck her deeper and faster. Her breathing was ragged. You wondered how she was getting any air at all when suddenly she let out a cry, hitting her peak. Her body collapsed completely as she came, letting out light, breathy moans. It was one of the prettiest sounds you’d ever heard. You supported her body as she relaxed into post-orgasm bliss, and gently worked the toy out of her. The moan she let out when you finally slid it all the way out nearly made you feral as you set it aside on her nightstand.

“Thank you,” Sana said breathlessly. “Wow.” She rolled over, eyeing you for a moment curiously. “To be honest, I’m more of a pillow princess,” she said, glancing at your neglected, soaked cunt. “But I’d love to watch you touch yourself.” Then she smiled mischievously. “You uh, don’t happen to own a harness for a strap, do you?”

#twice imagines #twice x f!reader #twice x fem reader #sana imagines #pillow princess sana #anonymous #ask #answered

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neighbourscat · 2 months ago

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𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄 , spencer cassadine

EVERYONE HAS A QUIET ESCAPE.

𓈒 ˙ ꪆৎ ꣹ ۫ 𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . estate owner!spencer c. X estate chef!black!fem!reader. || second person ( you, yours, you’re ) + lowercase intended.

+ synopsis. making breakfast was your way of reaching out, of letting him know, wordlessly, that he wasn’t alone. it wasn’t about the food itself but about giving him a moment of comfort, a pause from everything weighing on him .. a quiet escape.

+ cw. mature language! & indications of social status difference between spencer cassadine and black!reader. || other than that, no warnings! ( a lot of italics! & sorry if my writing of spencer cassadine is poor and inaccurate, i haven’t watched general hospital enough. the storylines are so confusing to follow /: )

+ nali’s notes; food is a love language! reader is heavily inspired by ayo edebiri || sydney adamu from the bear! reader is three flowers tall! so gen-z, so hilariously awkward, so silly, so dorky, so sweetie & so patient with cranky spencer cassadine. such a doll! reader loves sza & chappell roan & beabadoobee! i love writing a reader who rambles a lot. wordcount :: 4.0k+

+ more; short does not follow any specific plotline of general hospital!

+ to be played: normal girl, sza. || alternative: there she goes, the la’s.

EVERYONE HAS A QUIET ESCAPE.

LAWRENCE, NEW YORK || DECEMBER 4, 2023

the king’s market stood at the very edge of lawrence; a small town within a big city .. . where the paint peeled off old brick buildings, and faded signs creaked in the december wind. yet, despite its weathered exterior, the supermarket was lawrence’s unexpected gem ( as was shawnda’s boutique, toni’s kitchen, minnie’s nails, the sullivan community college, that dunkin’ on mccarter road, brunch box, and express deli ) — a place that managed to thrive against all odds. its large windows glowed warmly under flickering neon lights, as if the store itself were proud of what it held inside.

you skid to a harsh stop — your brother’s old navy blue bicycle croaked with each pedal, it practically begged to be thrown into a junkyard — and immediately lose balance. you caught yourself before the tumble could come; the bottoms of your ragged, black vans scraping at the concrete and your thumbs accidentally brushing against the bike’s bells . .. . the scratchy ringgg alerted the cluster of pigeons, causing them to flap away, and made the mother pushing her big-enough-to-walk-on-his-own toddler side-eye you.

“mornin’ . ..” you raised a shy hand in apology, leaning your brother’s aged bike against king’s dried bike rack. you snatched up your bundle of reusable tote bags from the screwed-on basket and dug into the jumble for the bicycle’s lock; the new one ordered from amazon. “o .. kayyyy,” you sung to yourself, wrapping the chain link over a rack pole. hearing it click and seeing that it remained in place, you let out a deep breath .. relieved.

king’s market is quiet, but it’s a comforting quiet, broken only by the hum of old refrigeration units and the faint rustle of a distant shopper. sunlight filtered through the small, high windows, casting a soft glow over the shelves and illuminating specks of dust floating lazily through the air — king’s market was different from what was expected. though the aisles were narrow and the checkered linoleum tiles were cracked and crumbled and lifting out of place, each row and shelf was organized perfectly.

a faint scent of earth and herbs drifted from the produce section, where vegetables sat stacked in bright, fresh columns. local greens glistened with a crispness that rivaled any high-end market over in port charles ( you believed ), their colors vivid against the worn wooden bins. tomatoes were perfectly ripe, their skins taut and glowing, and bunches of parsley and dill leaned together like old friends, filling the air with a sharp, green fragrance.

in the far back, there was a small bakery nook filled with golden loaves, round bagels, fluffy croissants, beautifully-decorated cupcakes and soft cookies made with old-fashioned love, managed by antonella cardenas. beside it, a mini flower-shop section . .. . you’ve made it your business to circle by during your early morning grocery-runs.

you ripped the bud from your ear and let the wire hang down your front, dangling and brushing against the puff of your dark-green winter jacket. “tev?” you gave the worktop a knock, not too loud but hard enough to be heard throughout the mini-kitchen. tevin’s butcher counter was simple but spotless, manned by an old man who knew every cut by heart, arranging steaks and chops with the precision of an artist.

“tee-tee?!” still, nothing or no one came to you — you knew the mini-kitchen was open. the lights were on and the faucet was running. “i’ve got some .. fucked-up, jacked-up, cracked-up shit to tell you, tev.” you were careful with your curses, not giving them their regular intensity and over-exaggeration. “tevi?! it’s work shit!” crickets. that usually worked. you stopped knocking on the cold counter and dropped back onto your heels. “i know you can hear me, tevin,” spoken under your breath and while you were unraveling your wired-headphones.

and you started onward . .. realizing that it might’ve been a good thing tevin wright hadn’t come out to the register. you weren’t the best at lying on the spot. you had a little tell of it; while for many, it was laughing or evasive smiling or rapid blinking or coughing and clearing their throat, avoiding eye contact; like looking up at the ceiling, or those self-soothing gestures or being too fidgety with their fingers and clothing, you overused defensive phrases: like “honestly,” “to tell you the truth,” or “believe me”.

with sza’s ‘sweet november’ playing faintly in your ears .. you stand in the center of a narrow, softly lit aisle; shelves of hand-drawn packaging designs, others in plain jars that let the rich red or green hues of their contents do the talking. your hands hovered over two jars — one labeled locally-made marinara, the other a small-batch pesto. your fingers grazed the cool glass of both as you considered them, your full brows knit in thought. it’s just .. fucking pasta sauce, you could hear your mother’s grating voice. pick up a jar and go.

you lifted one jar, squinting at the label, as though weighing the memories each flavor might stir up. a faint smile tugged at your lips as you remembered how your father would make a whole affair out of selecting ingredients, debating over spices and sauces as if it were a high-stakes decision. are you kidding me? this is ridiculous. you are just like your father. half-insult.

you set it back down, you reached for the other choice, your gaze thoughtful as you further debated which would give your evening dish that extra something — sza’s song of past experiences fading into chappell roan’s love me anyway — you set that jar back into place and grabbed the third option. the one with the hand-drawn design. it was cute and you made a mental note to peel the wrapping off before use.

PORT CHARLES, NEW YORK || DECEMBER 4, 2023

the kitchen of the cassadine estate was a masterpiece of traditional russian design, combining rustic elegance with a sense of historic charm. the kitchen was a vast, open space dominated by an enormous central island, topped with dark, veined marble that has been polished to a mirror-like finish. cabinets of deep, rich wood line the walls, their surfaces gleaming under the sparkle of hanging iron chandeliers with exposed filament bulbs that cast a golden light over everything.

every detail exuded craftsmanship: the hand-carved moldings, the wrought-iron handles on each cabinet, and the aged brass fixtures that gave the room a touch of vintage grandeur. pots and pans of shined copper hung in neat rows from a ceiling rack, their warm glow offset by the cool, tiled walls in muted creams and grays, which add a subtle neatness.

a massive stone hearth sat against one wall, its archway adorned with intricate, hand-laid tiles. within, a wood-fired oven emitted a faint, smoky scent. to the side, a marble-topped counter held a selection of oils and aged vinegars kept in glass jars, each label handwritten in russian script.

large windows near the farmhouse sink overlooked the estate’s gardens, letting in natural light that poured across the butcher-block counters and casted shadows on the tiled floor. this floor — worn but immaculate — was ice cold underneath your soaking wet polka-dot socks. in one hand, your pair of vans ( fiona mccall, the estate’s lead-housekeeper, and her team were stern and meticulous in ensuring that the grand halls, ballrooms, libraries, staircases, and more importantly, the floors remained pristine ), your phone with the letterboxd app still open and dropped into a shoe, in the other hand; your grocery tote-bag you were to keep in the employee mini-fridge.

you faked a bad cough, in attempt to fake clear your throat — “sorry, goodmorning .. mr. cassadine.” — still, you grabbed his attention. spencer cassadine stood at the central island with his elbows resting on the chilled surface, his head lowered, lost in thought. the weight of family expectations pressed heavily on him, and the stillness around him offered a brief moment of respite .. before hearing your voice, of course.

your presence filled the room with a sense of . .. . play and awkwardness. spencer studied you: your winter jacket over a simple, faded-once-graphic t-shirt, wrinkled mom jeans, hints of gold jewellery, your box-braids loosely tied back with baby pink crochet yarn, giving you that .. ‘relaxed’ look, he guessed you were going for. it wasn’t effortless, it was messy. spencer’s gaze switched to your shoeless feet .. as did your own eyes — you took one large step to the left and landed behind a counter, only letting your upper half show.

“fiona-ms. mccall, i mean,” you began, your shoulders tense and your arms cramping from the hanging shoes and bags of groceries, “and those-sorry, your floors, sir. she’s serious ‘bout ‘em, that one. i mean, her team too. they’re like .. so serious about th’ floors .. i had’ta walk around in my socks-“ you stopped before continuing on. seeing him stand there with that signature blank, cold look on his face only shut you up ( you opted not to speak on how you dropped your dunkin’ coffee on the way here ) and drove sickness deeper into your heart.

you looked away from a moment, taking a shaky breath. “i should, uhm ..” you faced him again, “sorry, mr. cassadine .. my arms are, like, getting ready to snap off. like, actually.”

spencer watched you waddle off into the shared-employee closet. he straightened a bit, his fists carefully drumming at the marble surface as he waited for your return — though, he wouldn’t admit to anyone that he had been ‘waiting’ for you. after a moment, he took a step aside and tilted his head slightly, giving himself a clear view into the employee closet; with its array of lockable, highschool-style cell phone lockers . .. . you were shoving your winter jacket into the available top shelf, struggling on your tip-toes.

when you landed on your heels again, spencer took his previous position; leaning against the central island — “so, um . ..? sorry, but why are you back here, anyways?” you called out, but gave spencer not even a second to process the question. you peeked your head out of the employee closet, braids no longer tied back but cascading over your shoulder. “sorry, this is your family’s kitchen. you have, uhm .. every right to be back here. sorry.” you disappeared into the employees’ closet again, leaving spencer to be alone and to .. somewhat try and understand you.

“you apologize a lot?” he asked, his voice steady and even. not a question, but more so a statement.

dropping your hands from your braided bun, you moved away from the wall mirror and out of the closet saying: “trauma response,” unapologetic and freely, fixing your white button-up and fresh apron, “i can’t help but feel bad for a person literally every-time i-“

“what?” a deep grumble. too forward. he’s not one of your friends, you reminded yourself. you can’t speak to him like he’s on your level — rather, like you’re on his level. “sorry, mr. cassadine.” again with the sorry.

spencer huffed and in a low tone, “you can stop with the ‘mister’.” not a request, but an instruction. unsure of what to say next, in bad habit; “i’m sorry?” his eyes narrowed and you bit down on your lower lip, stopping yourself from the ‘m’ word and the ‘s’ word. “i actually get asked about that .. like, a lot. the ‘s’ word, thing. i’m kind of working on it. kind of.”

“kind of?”

“mhm-yeah. takin’ it day by day . .. . kind of. you know what i mean?” no comment, no further movement. your shoulders drooped, but you were okay. you were in an okay mood this early, december morning even after dropping your dunkin’ coffee. you had on new, warm socks and had beabadoobee in one ear — “you still use ..” with a hand, spencer gestured toward his own ear, “wires?”

you stared down at your phone, the adapter snug in the charging port; ‘pictures of us’ by beabadoobee at its first full minute. the slander on ‘wired headphones’ was so unnecessary and so childish. without thinking: “i’m sorry?” you paused a moment to recollect and what looked to be a smile began tugging at spencer’s lips. “i mean-who doesn’t? .. who doesn’t like wires?”

“many people.”

a weird chuckle, “what? literally so many people like wires. i don’t-? what is so wrong with wires?”

“what isn’t wrong with wires?”

“i don’know? that’s why i’m asking you ‘what’s wrong with wires’?

“everything.” and that was that. spencer had the last word, though you disagreed completely. silence fell for eight seconds, maybe nine, before he asked; “what are you, uh ..?” shoving his veiny hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans, “who are you listenin’ to, anyways?”

“beabadoobee.” you paused the song. “her beatopia album. it’s so good, seriously.” a part of you considered sharing the unused earbud, but that would require closeness and sharing wired headphones was an intimate gesture, a chance to bond with another — that couldn’t be done with airpods or those chunky beat headphones. “i’ll come over to you-you just stay there.”

spencer met you halfway around the marble island, going against your statement without a second thought. the gap between you and spencer was intentional, on both ends. he kept himself from standing too close, as did you. “okay, so, if bea’s not your cup of tea, or, uhm, you don’t like her sound or somethin’ .. justttt, uh, don’t say anything-y’know?” spencer listened intently, hands at his sides and the soft skin of his fingers rubbing the stitches of his dark jeans. “sorry, that wasn’t exactly ‘polite’-“

“play the song.”

“mhm. yeah.” your index finger tapped down on the rewind button .. pictures of us started, the acoustic guitar entrance soothing and inviting — “the words take awhile to, um . .. actually begin, sor-nope.” spencer smiled faintly at your effort, giving a light thumbs up. you appreciated the gesture, warmth slowly growing within your chest, causing you to chew the inside of your cheek.

with the pad of your thumb, you dragged at the progress bar, watching the thin line skip forward in small jumps, stopping at the right mark. you let your finger rest, satisfied as bea’s lyrics finally filled the air.

“i’ve watched that.” right under the music widget had been a notification from letterboxd: w-katie02 liked your review of the elephant man ( 1980 )! “it’s one of my favorites,” he continued, almost hesitant. “yeah?” a little, genuine smile as your fingers brushed the edge of your phone. “yeah.” spencer ended there, seemingly restricted; as if he’d just given something away he hadn’t meant to.

“do you have letterboxd?” just the most important app on your cellular device. well, one of them, certainly. by the glint in your eyes, spencer could feel the unmistakable love you held — because for you, it was so much more than just a platform; it was like a never-ending journal of emotions, insights, and memories. your perfect profile was filled with entries — some thoughtful and delicate and passionate, others scattered and messy and raw, like snapshots of your silly life in film. you’d spent many hours logging your thoughts after each movie, capturing how it made you feel, who you’d watched it with, what kind of day it had been . .. . you never missed a detail.

“what’s a .. letterboxd?” you unlocked your phone in under a second — “it’s like goodreads, but for movies,” you said as you clicked the app open. spencer, though confused and having never heard of goodreads, kept his lips locked and waited for your explanation: “letterboxd is immediate, like no other platform.” you held out your phone and he took hold of it; mindful of the need to avoid physical contact.

“social media in a way that’s like-“ spencer’s finger swiped up and you inched inward, lifting onto your tip-toes to watch as he did so. “-ultra safe and super cuddly. there’s no politics, close-minded straight men, or mentions of global crises, the sad stuff essentially, y’know? .. well, okay, actually-i guess, if you’re on the wrong side-“

“there are sides?”

“so, it’s . .. . yeah.”

“mm.” — pictures of us faded into don’t get the deal — your gaze shifted between his working finger and his face. you didn’t know what he’d been doing exactly, but you paid attention to how his eyes zipped side to side under his eyelids and how his brows lightly scrunched and how he sniffled softly every now and again and how his tongue darted out to bring moisture back to his lips. and in this very moment, this quiet moment of, what you assumed was nothing, he looked . .. . approachable. it surprised you how easily he fit into this small moment, his attention focused on something so trivial.

spencer cassadine — extra polished, effortlessly confident, someone who belonged to a world you’d only ever seen from a distance — handling your phone as though you and him were two equals. the four fingers of his right hand nearly covering every collected sticker.

to you, he really was someone you had heard about in passing, the kind of person with a surname people spoke of in hushed tones, heavy with history. he seemed so different up close, less like a distant idea of wealth and reputation, and more like just .. a person, with his own subtle quirks and quiet intensity — it felt like a rare glimpse beyond his guarded expression, easing the image you’d carried of him.

you tried not to overthink it, letting yourself just be here, grounded by the purr of the kitchen and beabadoobee in the background and the heat of his presence . .. .

then came a muffled ping; spencer returned your phone and retrieved his own from his back pocket. that dry, somber demeanor was back and whatever that quiet moment was, was long gone. you clicked off beabadoobee — your eyes searching his face for a hint of what could have been troubling him. “can i make you something?” a sweet offer. a sweetness that spencer cassadine had not known, or been at all familiar with.

he blinked up from his screen. “what?”

“have you eaten breakfast yet?”

spencer shook his head.

“food always helps.” just as you pivot and circled the counter, he spoke: “i’ve already taken too much of your free time. i’ve interrupted your routine,” clearly trying to brush off your sweet offer, though his stomach growled in response to the idea of food.

“it’s fine.”

“i can’t let you ..”

“seriously?” you stopped in your tracks, barely smiling. “come on, seriously. c’mon. i can prepare somethin’ quickly. i don’t mind, really,” you reassured. and spencer felt a flicker of thankfulness at your inclination; you weren’t offering to impress him or because he was who he was, but out of the kindness of your heart. “thank you.”

with a nod, you moved to the large refrigerator, opening the door with purpose. you pulled out a few eggs and some vegetables, your movements deliberate and calm. the rhythmic sounds of your chopping and sautéing completed the kitchen.

as you worked, spencer was leaned over the counter .. having just downloaded letterboxd and putting together his own movie lists. he found your account, remembering the username in the top left corner, and added a few of your saved movies to his new “to watch” list. “how long have you been cooking for?”

“mom put a knife in my hand at five, so i’d say since then,” you replied, glancing up briefly and laughing seeing the concerned look on his face — you weren’t joking. “it’s therapeutic,” you said then, eyes down again. “i find real comfort in it-a quiet escape, like my letterboxd. plus, feeding people is a nice way to show you care.”

your words struck a chord with him. he could see how the kitchen was your sanctuary, just as it had become a momentary refuge for him. “i can understand that,” he admitted, his gaze wandering to the window, where the light falling snow touched down and melted. “i’ll find my ‘quiet escape’.”

“you don’t have one now?”

“unh-unh.”

“that should be impossible. what do you look for when you need a moment?”

“i walk around and sit in silence.”

“that sounds awful.”

“it’s not the worse thing ever.”

“no, i guess not. but what do you love to do? like really, truly love to do-imagine, ‘kay, it’s your very last hour alive .. ‘nd you’re trapped in a dome with only th’ materials needed for your number one hobby, what is it?”

spencer’s mind went blank for a few seconds. he didn’t write, he didn’t read, he couldn’t draw, he couldn’t paint — “i like the gym.”

“okay .. cool.” you smiled and scratched at an eyebrow, “um, but seriously. what’s the hobby?”

“.. nothing.”

“-shit.”

“yeah.” a hopeless shrug. “i never got into an art or instrument. nothing that requires serious skill and talent.” spencer turned off his phone and held his hands together, fingers interlocking.

“well . .. a hobby doesn’t have ‘ta require serious skill or talent. and it doesn’t necessarily have ‘ta be an art.” you told him, matter-of-factly; knowing and practical. “like bird-watching. don’t have’ta be in your sixties to do it.” dropping your spoon onto a paper towel, you went for one of the five spice cabinets and dug inside. “i collect cool things.” you were a collector of very fine whatchamacallits, doo-dads, and trinkets; which ranged from mail stamps, pink paper clips, buttons of all shapes and colors and sizes, unique beer bottle caps, and stickers — your junk-sticker phone case is evidence.

“what-like rocks?”

“sometimes. marbles too.”

“marbles?”

“marbles.” firmly, “mancala pieces.”

“what’s a mancala piece?”

“y’know ..? mancala?”

“what’s mancala?”

“what’s mancala?” in disbelief, you released a defeated sigh and shook your head. “i have a mobile version, i can explain the game after this.” yyou stretched your arm over and with a knuckle, tapped down on your phone screen; you had little over an hour left. “jus’ta confirm, i will be explaining the game.”

no objection.

“but back to hobbies-“ spencer heard your voice and instantly flipped his phone back over. “-what’s an instrument you’ve wanted to play?” piano, there was no need to think about it. the first time spencer had heard a piano, the melody was soft and almost a whisper, beckoning him away from the clamor of the gala crowd. he drifted toward the sound, drawn in as if by a spell —

— he saw the grand piano in the corner of the room, its sleek black body gleaming under the warm lights. a man was seated there, his fingers gliding over the keys with such fluid grace that spencer could hardly believe it . .. . and in that moment, he felt an overwhelming urge .. not just to listen, but to touch the keys, to know how it felt to draw out a sound so moving and pure. but he was only a child, and the instrument seemed impossibly large, as if it belonged to another world.

and years passed .. life had filled up with other obligations and distractions, and the closest he’d come to a piano was brushing his fingers over the keys of one owned by a close friend or at another sprawling event. but every now and then, when he heard the low throb of a piano in a restaurant or wherever, he felt that same pull, that longing that had begun in the corner of a crowded room so many years before, waiting patiently for him to return.

“piano,” he answered. though he had no idea what happiness looked like for him, he was sure that starting with piano would make that discovery easier — he was so incredibly detached from himself and the more you spoke to him, you could tell.

“i know you can learn,” you said, kindly.

“i don’t have the time.”

“not even five minutes? you can download an app and start slow .. memorize piano stuff.”

“you have a piano app?”

“no, but i can find one for you.” his dark eyes brightened imperceptibly. “i bet there’s a lot. there’s an app for everything .. unfortunately .. kind of.” you mumbled the last bit, plating his breakfast with care. “.. here. simple, but it’ll help.”

in grabbing himself clean silverware — for the first time, he felt the possibility of letting someone in, even if just a little.

#nali’s ᡣ𐭩 #black writers #black reader #black women #short stories #spencer cassadine #general hospital #spencer cassadine x black!reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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tonyspank · 1 year ago

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SHE

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

New York was a city full of opportunity and possibilities. It was a place where people could come to pursue their dreams and make their mark in the world. It was vibrant and alive, and it was a place that gave people hope. You and your best friend Ross decide to move to the big apple, and you meet a woman who drastically changes your life. That woman being Jenna Ortega.

This oneshot includes mature themes such as foul language, sexual activity, acts of violence and etc.

Jenna and any other celebrities in this book are not famous unless said otherwise.

This is also very rushed, I wanted to get something out, so I’ll be revising it soon. Also this is inspired by that one Netflix show, I can’t say which one because then it’ll spoil a lot of stuff.

WORDS; 8.6K

"Bro. Please, just please go to the store." The blonde-haired boy basically pleads from the couch. You throw your head back dragging your feet against the white tile floor that leads to the kitchen. You take a deep breath and grab your keys off the kitchen table. You look back with a sigh and say, "Alright, I'll go," before heading out the door.

You walk to your car, still not entirely sure why you agreed to go. You get in, start the engine, and drive off toward the store. You live in the less busy part of New York, free from the loud noises of cars honking and random arguments of people on the street.

Ross Lynch, your best friend who just got accepted to his dream job of working at a tech company, just moved into a new apartment with you. With Ross being at work and you decorating and buying appliances, you didn't have time to go grocery shopping.

The two of you have been ordering takeout every day for the past two weeks. Ross's complaining and along with your stomach eventually convinces you not to avoid the task any longer. Now at the supermarket, you grab a cart and browse the shelves for the items you need. It was late, so the store was nearly empty.

At least that's what you thought. Your head turns toward the sudden voice, "Excuse me." The brunette girl smiles, and you find yourself mesmerized by her beauty. Her dark hair was tied into a messy bun, and her bangs fell into her face.

She reaches up and brushes them away, revealing her deep brown eyes. And also showcases the large amount of freckles that danced across her face, she was breathtakingly beautiful. You find yourself staring, unable to look away.

"I uh, I can't find a worker and I also can't reach this stupid bag of popcorn. Could you help me?" Your heart skips a beat as she speaks to you, her voice as sweet as honey. You can feel yourself blushing before you dumbly nod in response. She smiles and lets out a small laugh before thanking you. You feel a warmth in your chest as you approach the aisle she was in. She points to the white bag of popcorn and you reach it with ease.

"Here you go." She takes the popcorn and looks at you with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much." You nod, "Happy to help." She turns to leave but you stop her. "If you need anything else you know where to find me."

She furrows her eyebrows and you mentally slap yourself for being unable to talk to pretty girls. Her head tilts slightly and you swear your heart rate just increased. "You're going to be in the same aisle... until I leave?"

She gives you an alluring smirk and you feel yourself blushing. Your hands sweat as you mumble a response, barely able to believe this is happening. "Uh? No, but maybe I could just join you until you leave. You know, just in case you need anything else."

You watch her eyes glance around your face, almost as if she's having a mental battle with herself. She breaks her gaze and smiles. "Sure, why not? I'd like that." She replies, her voice a low whisper. You take a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as you follow her.

"Wait. I have to grab my cart really quick." She hums in acknowledgment and waits outside of your aisle while you quickly retrieve your cart. "I'm Y/N by the way." You introduce yourself and your face feels like it's on fire. She smiles in response, "Jenna."

"Bread and peanut butter. Not a jelly kind of person?" She says, her eyes scanning the few items in your cart. "I actually like to make my own jelly." You admit proudly.

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. "That's a cool idea. I've never thought of that. Is it difficult to make?"

"No, not at all," you reply. "It's actually quite simple. You just need a few ingredients and a bit of time." You smile and start walking toward the dairy aisle. She glances at you, her curiosity piqued. You start to explain the process in more detail, pointing out what ingredients you need and how to put them together.

"Hm... I might give it a try." You encourage her to do so, assuring her that it is easy and the results will be worth it. She grabs a bottle of sour cream, holding it in her right hand as she holds the bag of popcorn under her shoulder. "Are you making something?" You ask, curious at the different items in her hands.

She nods with a smile and replies, "I'm going to make cheesecake. I've been craving it for the past week."

You grab a few random stuff off the shelf, tossing it in your cart just so Ross can't say you didn't shop. Jenna's a few steps ahead of you, not noticing you've stopped. You quickly jog back up to her, sending her a smile. She smiles back, unaware of the random shopping you had done. "I love cheesecake,—"

"—It's a superior dessert." Jenna laughed. "I'm glad you're so passionate about it." She started walking again, this time more slowly, and you followed her. "Why are you shopping so late? If you don't mind me asking that is." Jenna asks, brushing her bangs out of her view of sight again.

You tap the handle of the cart, puckering out your lips. "Uhhh, I actually just moved here and I've been avoiding the task of going grocery shopping. My roommate— Ross, had to beg me to go." Jenna's eyes scan the shelves, and then they meet yours again with a small laugh falling from her lips. "Where did you move from?"

"Los Angeles." You inform her. She gasps in surprise. "Wow, that's a big change! I'm sure it's been a bit of an adjustment." She smiles. "Well, at least you have Ross to help you get accustomed."

You shrug your shoulders turning left at the end of the aisle. "Yeah, I guess. He's been busy though, with a new job and all. Which is the reason we moved." She nods in understanding before saying, "Well, it's still good to have a friend. Especially when you're in a new environment." You smile in agreement and the conversation drifts to other topics.

"Wait? What? You met Obama and got a photo of him?" Jenna asks in disbelief. You laugh as you nod your head and tell her the story of how you met the former president. Jenna shakes her head in disbelief, still astounded by the story. "Here look," you pull out your phone, scrolling a bit before showing it to her.

"Holy shit." She glances at you and then back at your phone. "You were telling the truth. How on earth did you manage to meet him?" You smile, "A legend never tells." She shakes her head in even more disbelief. "Well, you certainly have some impressive secrets." You begin unloading your cart which was filled with a bunch of random items.

You had a whole pineapple, a loaf of brioche bread, butter, peanut butter, a bottle of ketchup, a jar of pickles, and a bunch of other things. She looks at you curiously and asks, "What do you plan on making with all this?"

You pause, "I—" and you honestly cannot think of anything you could make with it. "I have no idea." She laughs and says, "Ross is going to kill you." You wave her off while the cashier finishes ringing up your items. "He'll live." The cashier begins typing on the screen before finishing bagging up your last item, the price showing on the mini screen in front of you.

"Off of that food? I don't think so," Jenna jokes. You laugh pulling out your card and swiping it. The cashier hands you your receipt and you thank him before you turn to Jenna. "You're funny." Jenna grins and places her two items on the belt. "I know, I should become a comedian."

You switch the bags to one hand. "I'd pay for every stand-up." Jenna laughs and slightly pouts her lips. "Aw, my number one supporter." She takes her bag from the cashier and you begin walking out of the store together. "Of course. You're going to see me in the crowd with a t-shirt with your face on it."

Jenna laughs and you start to smile wider at the sound. "I'd call security right away", she says in a jokingly serious tone. You smile continuing to walk to the girl's car. Once you arrive your smile fades.

Jenna unlocks her truck placing the singular bag down, turning to you. She gives you a tight-lipped smile and looks into your eyes. "Take care of yourself," she says. "It was nice meeting you."

You nod in response, not able to find the words to thank her. She gives you one last smile before getting into her car and starting the engine. You stand there for a few moments, watching her drive away until she disappears from sight.

You turn and walk toward your car, feeling grateful for the moment you shared with her. You take a deep breath and let out a sigh, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. "I should've got her number." You mumble to yourself.

You shake your head putting your bags in the passage seat and get into your car before starting the engine and driving away. When you arrive at the parking garage, you spot an empty spot and pull in.

You sigh in relief as you turn off the engine and get out of the car. You take a moment to stretch before heading inside. Humming a random song, you make your way to the elevator. A person beats you to it and you furrow your eyebrows. She looked so familiar—wait. It was Jenna.

You speed up your movements to the elevator arriving faster. "Jenna?" She jumps at the sound of your voice, a very confused look on her face. "I live here as well," you say, hoping to help her relax. She looks around, realizing the situation and a small laugh escapes her lips. "Oh wow. I didn't expect that."

"Me either," the elevator dings, the doors opening soon after. You two step inside and Jenna reaches for the button. "Could you press eight—" Before you could finish your sentence another ding is heard. She had already pressed the button. Your mouth forms an "o" in surprise. "I guess we live on the same floor."

She smiles slightly before chuckling, "This is starting to scare me." You smile back, "Yeah, it's like fate brought us together." She nods, stepping out of the elevator as the doors open. "See you around," she says. You both begin to walk in the same direction, causing even more confusion. If that was possible.

She stops, turning to you with a puzzled look. "I think we're going the same way," she says. You both share a smile before continuing on your way.

Shit, you two were next-door neighbors.

You felt embarrassed that you didn't know earlier, but you were also glad that you were neighbors. You figured it would make things easier since you'd be seeing each other again. "Shit, how didn't I connect the dots?" Jenna mutters. "Well, at least we know now." You say and smile back in understanding.

Jenna smiled back. "Yeah, now it all makes sense. Tell Ross that he's in my prayers." She jokes. You both laughed, and the awkwardness between you melted away. You both said your goodbyes, and Jenna promised to keep in touch and you both went back to your respective apartments.

As you place the bags down in the apartment, Ross makes his way to the kitchen. "Took you long enough." He mumbles under his breath, and you roll your eyes. "What the—" He searches the bags, a strong furrow in his brows. "Y/N? What the hell is all of this?"

You smile sheepishly, "I got distracted." Your mind begins to flood with images of your brunette neighbor that you'd introduced yourself to at the supermarket.

"I'll just DoorDash groceries." He sighs out, turning to walk to the living room. "You should've done that in the first place!" You yell out after him.

"THE APP IS DOWN!" He shouts back, a loud groan following after.

It's the next morning and you're sitting at the kitchen island, Ross walks through the door, multiple bags in his hands. You raise your head from your phone, giving Ross a confused look.

He places the bags on top of the counter and you can feel the tension in the room, and you can see the light irritation on his face.

"Woah, Mr. Grumpypants. I told you I was going to get the groceries today." Ross sends you a look, taking a few items out of the plastic bags. "Really?" He tilts his head and you nod, "Because last time you said you would and ended up getting distracted."

You frown at the tone of his voice, "Dude. I'm sorry, I was going to go once you went to work."

Ross apologizes letting out a loud sigh, he shakes his head waving you off with his free hand. "Shit, sorry. I've just been stressed lately."

You mumble an, "It's okay. I understand." Before getting up and helping him put away the groceries.

Ross didn't know it but the day you moved into your new apartment you had been applying for jobs. Ross was making more than enough to cover for your new apartment, but you didn't want to live off of your best friend.

Today you had three interviews lined up, one for a bookstore, one for a restaurant and one for a local flower shop. You were getting very desperate, the pays weren't a lot but it would have to do until you found a full-time position.

You hadn't seen your neighbor. Well, you have seen her. You were walking around the neighborhood and saw Jenna pulling up, she rolled down the window and say her hello's before entering the parking garage.

Then you had seen her again, she exiting her apartment as you were entering yours. She greeted you with a squeeze on your arm before going about her day. Every time you'd see Jenna her hellos would get more touchier, but never taking it too far.

You were exhausted and your mind was on a spiral. Having done three interviews back to back, and the horrible traffic of New York had made you feel like you were going to collapse at your door.

You fumble with your keys, attempting to unlock your door, but they drop from your hands. "C'mon, man." You mumble to yourself letting out a dramatic sigh as you reach for your keys.

You didn't even notice the brunette that passed you, taking out her own pair of keys until you heard them jingle. You look to your left seeing Jenna already looking your way, a playful smile on her face.

"You look nice. Had a date?" You give a small smile shaking your head. Jenna's eyes roam your face taking in all of your features, you were so damn attractive. From your eyebrows to your eye, to your nose and even your alluring lips.

But while she shamelessly checked you out she noticed the tired look in your y/e/c eyes, her lip slightly turning downwards. "Oh, date went bad?"

Inhaling a breath you shake your head again, "No, interview actually." Jenna steps away from her door, coming closer to you. "You look stressed." Her hand rests on your forearm, and you glance down at her touch before meeting her dark and brown sincere eyes.

"I made a cheesecake, come try it." Cheesecake? You really did love cheesecake. You remember back in sixth grade your entire social media account was based on your love for cheesecake.

It had become one of your favorite desserts after your mom replaced it for a birthday cake.

"Uh," You hesitate. You didn't wanna intrude her personal space. But god did that cheesecake sound tempting. "Sure."

Jenna flashes a smile at you, giving your forearm a slight squeeze. You pocket your keys following behind Jenna who holds the door open for you, "Don't mind the mess." She mutters, picking up the empty water bottle off of her kitchen island and throwing it in the trash.

Her apartment was the same size as yours, the decorations modern and bright, white everywhere. There were white walls with sleek and elegant furniture, natural lighting shining through as her white curtains are pulled apart. "Your place is nice."

"Thank you," You sit down on a white bar stool, and she reaches into her fridge pulling out the cheesecake. You swear your mouth began watering at the sight.

"That looks so delicious." She grins at your reaction scooting the dish closer to you. You watch as she pulls a plate and fork, platting your slice of cheesecake.

"Enjoy," She says, sitting down next to you and resting her head in her hand. You glance at her with a smile before picking up the fork and taking a decent bite of the New York-style slice of dessert.

Her eyes watch you intensely, searching for your reaction. Swallowing the piece of cheesecake you nod, twisting your bar stool to face Jenna completely. "Can I keep the whole cake?" You joke Jenna's face breaks out in a smile and she leans into you, holding your bicep.

"Only if you give me a jar of your jelly." You pursed your lips, pretending to think. "Okay fine, deal." You say, taking another bite of your food and she lets go of you.

"Is it not tight?" Jenna asks, your forehead creases in confusion from the lack of context. Her mouth twitches upward as she gestures to your tie.

"Your tie. Is it not tight?" You glance at the black tie around your neck, shrugging. It suddenly felt tighter than before, "Now that you're saying something, maybe a bit."

You reach for your tie but her own hands beat you, loosening it up. "Better?" She asks, her eyes glancing around your face. Staring a bit too long at your lips, you slowly nod sparing a glance at her pink lips. "Mhm," you hum quickly looking away. Her hands slip away, but her gaze remains. You take a deep breath, but your heart is still racing.

"So, what's the story? Why do you love cheesecake so much?" You breathe out a laugh, "Can people just not like cheesecake anymore?" She puckers her lips, tilting her head. Cute.

"Yeah, but not as much as you do." You try to fight back a smile but fail miserably, "Well, it was my fourteenth birthday... and my mom was working overtime, so she had to get my birthday cake late." You glance at Jenna who nods, paying attention to every word you're saying.

"And the store didn't have any left, so she ended up settling with a cheesecake which I absolutely devoured. Ate the entire thing by myself and then proceeded to lie about it and say I dropped it on the floor and had to throw it out." Jenna laughs, holding a hand over her mouth attempting to silence her laugh. "Did she know you were lying?"

"Yes." You simply say, turning back to finish your slice of cheesecake, Jenna begins to talk about another topic, and you find yourself freely discussing and sharing your thoughts without hesitation. It felt like you had known her for years.

You couldn't help but smile as you thought about how easy it was to talk to her. You felt a connection with her that you had never experienced before. You knew that she was someone special and that you wanted to get to know her better.

You could tell she felt the same way, and you were eager to see where the friendship would go. "My friends are going out to this club tonight, do you wanna join?" Jenna asks out of the blue, Jenna smiled, waiting for your response. You were taken aback by the invitation, but excited at the same time. You hesitated for a moment before saying, "Uh, sure."

Jenna's face lit up with a smile and she said, "Great! Let's meet up at 8 o'clock and go together." You agreed and the two of you made plans to meet up later that night, ready to see what the night would bring. When 8 o'clock came around, Jenna was already outside your door waiting for you. She had a big grin on her face, clearly excited for the night ahead.

You, on the other hand, had your jaw dropped to the floor at her beauty, though it already established she was gorgeous when you first saw her. You managed to regain your composure and walked out the door, flashing her a big smile. She smiled back, and you could feel your heart racing as she locked arms with you, making your way downstairs and into her car. You drove to the club, talking and laughing the whole way. When you arrived, you couldn't help but feel like you were walking on air.

You felt like you were in a dream as she opened the door of the club and you stepped inside. You looked around, amazed at the beauty of the place and the vibrant atmosphere. The night had only just begun, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. "Jenna!" A man's voice calls.

You both look over and see a friend of Jenna's waving them over. As they make their way to the table, Jenna turns to you and smiles. "Ready to have some fun tonight?" She asks.

You nod, feeling the energy of the club around you. Taking her hand, you walk to the table, ready to make the most of your night. "Hey, everyone! This is Y/N, we're neighbors." Jenna introduces you, and you wave timidly.

Everyone smiles and welcomes you, "Hey, I'm Mason." A handsome brown-skinned man says to you, "This is Mikey," the woman waves at you shyly, a small smile on her lips. "Jack," he nods his head a you smiling. "And Melissa." She waves at you with two hands, muttering, "Hello."

You take a seat next to Jenna and the group starts talking, laughing and joking. You smile, feeling welcomed and accepted. You feel a sense of belonging like you have always been part of the group. You relax and enjoy the conversation, talking about random things.

The conversation drifts to more serious topics and everyone shares their unique perspectives. You feel energized by the exchange of ideas and the group's willingness to listen and learn from each other. This is the kind of environment you want to be in.

"I'm going to get us some drinks," Melissa says, standing up. Everyone eagerly agrees. Melissa goes to the bar and Mason follows behind her to help. "So, Y/N." You hum in response, turning your head to Jack. Jack continues, "What do you think of everyone so far?" You smile, "Everyone's really nice. I'm glad I came," you reply. "Me too," Jack says. "I'm sure we'll have a great time tonight."

Jenna squeezes your thigh and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. You laugh nervously and glance at Jack, who seems oblivious to Jenna's gesture. She grins and removes her hand, the corner of her mouth turned up in amusement. You take a deep breath and turn back to Jack, trying to focus on the conversation.

"We got the drinks!" Melissa and Mason shout, raising the drinks in their hands. Everyone turns to the two, cheering. You glance at Jenna, who is smiling and clapping along with everyone. You smile back at her and turn back to Jack, who furrows his eyebrows when he's not handed a drink.

"No can do Jack, you're too young." Mason says, wiggling his finger in a 'no' motion. Jack scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. "But Jenna has one more year to go!" Jenna laughs sipping on her drink. "Yeah, but she gives off Wednesday Addams vibes and I don't wanna end up dying," Mason says, smiling at Jack.

Jack sighs and shakes his head. "Fine, I guess I'll just have to wait 'til I'm older." He says, disappointed. Mason puts an arm around Jack's shoulder and they all laugh. The night goes on and everyone is enjoying themselves, you especially. Their group felt like a big dysfunctional, but happy family.

Before the night was over, you excused yourself to get another drink. You head to the bar and order your drink. As you wait, you scroll through your phone, reading emails to see if anyone has emailed you back about a job.

You sigh and put your phone away. "Ex didn't text back?" A voice says, catching you off guard. You turn around and are met with green eyes, "Job didn't text back, I've been looking for quite a bit." You say, flustered at the beauty of the woman in front of you.

She laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don't give up too soon, you're in New York! There are opportunities everywhere." She takes a step closer, her hand outstretched. "I'm Ana, by the way. What's your name?" You take her hand and smile, "Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N."

She shakes your hand firmly. "Relax. This isn't a job interview, no need for the full name." She lets out a thunderous laugh, and you can't help but smile at the sound. "Let's go," she says. "I'll show you the city." You hesitate, glancing over at Jenna who's laughing with her friends.

You take one last look at Jenna and then nod at Ana. She smiles and takes your hand and leads you forward, the bright lights and bustling streets of New York ahead of you. You feel a thrill of excitement as you step away from the shelter of the alley and into the vibrant city. Together, you and Ana start to explore all that New York has to offer.

A large slice of pizza is in your hand and you and Ana walk down the streets of New York, asking questions about each other. "Ana de Armas? That's a pretty fancy name," Ana smiled. "It's Spanish," Ana said. "My family is from Cuba. I'm actually named after my mother." You hum, nodding your head before taking a bite out of your pizza.

Ana grins. "It's nice to have something that connects me to my heritage." She takes a deep breath and looks around. "This city has a lot of history, doesn't it?" You look around with her, "Yeah... and a lot of interesting people."

She pauses and looks at you with a faint smile. "Are you trying to call me interesting Y/N?" You laugh and smile. "Yes, of course." She gives you a playful shove, and you both keep walking, admiring the city around you.

You talked about the sights and sounds of the city and shared stories from your past. You both felt a connection that was growing more and more with every step. She looked at you with a twinkle in her eye and said, "Maybe we should do this again sometime."

"Yeah." You sigh out, taking your hands out of your pocket. The two of you stared at each other in silence. You smiled, realizing that you were both thinking the same thing. You leaned in and kissed her, your hands landing on her waist as she wrapped her arms around your neck.

You both were lost in the moment, enjoying the kiss and the feeling of being together. You pulled away, still looking into each other's eyes, and smiled. There was no need for words; the moment said it all, but she spoke anyway.

"I don't want this night to end." You leaned in and kissed her forehead, taking a few moments to savor the moment. You grab her hand, intertwining your fingers, and say, "Let's go somewhere we can be together a little longer."

That's how you ended up in her bed, waking up in the morning to a phone call. You sit up tiredly, glancing at the unknown number before answering it. "Hello?" You rasp out, getting up from the bed completely. "Yes, is this Y/N speaking?"

"Yes, this is me," you reply, picking up your clothes from last night. "Hi! This is Zoe calling from Mooney's. I believe you applied for the bartending job here." "Yes, that's me," you say, feeling a bit embarrassed. You take a deep breath and try to sound confident. "Yes, I applied. What can I do for you?"

"Well, we looked over your resume and we think you're a good fit! Could you come in today for training or...?" "Yes, of course!" you reply. You quickly jot down the details of the training and hang up the phone, feeling a wave of relief and excitement. Fucking finally! You got a job.

The training wasn't as difficult as expected, pretty simple actually you just had to listen and follow instructions. Zoe leans against the bar. "Y/N Y/L/N," she begins, looking at you with a smile. You nodded in agreement before taking a sip of your water. Zoe continued, "See, that wasn't so bad."

You smiled and nodded again, relieved that the training wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. "Why the full name though?" Zoe chuckled and shrugged. "Just to make sure I have it right," she said. "No one wants to be mislabeled, right?"

You quickly tilt your head, shrugging. She laughs, "My full name is Zoë Isabella Kravitz, if it makes you feel any better." She gives you a wink before turning and heading back to the other side of the bar. You smile, "Much better." You take a sip of your drink and watch her as she moves away. You can't help but admire her confidence and easy grace.

You continue to observe her as she talks and laughs with the other patrons; she seems completely at ease and unbothered by the chaos of the night. She catches your eye and smiles at you before turning away. You smile back, putting back on your apron before helping her around the bar.

You pass her her drink and she thanks you with a wink. She takes it to the customers the old regulars, who welcome her with cheers and applause. She takes a seat and begins to talk and joke with them as if she had known them for years. You watch with admiration as she fits in so easily, making the customers feel at home. It's clear to you why they all love her.

Once the bar is closed you help clean up as well, hanging up your apron before taking a seat with a loud sigh. "Uh oh, that sounds like a first day and I'm already about to quit type of sigh." She jokes, hanging up her apron as well.

You laugh, shaking your head. "It was a long day, but I'm actually really glad I decided to take this job." She smiles, nodding in agreement. "Me too. It's been quite busy the past couple of weeks, it was nice to have a helping hand."

You both smile and the atmosphere suddenly lighter. You chat for a bit before saying goodbye and heading home, feeling a sense of satisfaction with your first day.

"There she is!" Jenna smiles, walking beside you to her own door. You smile at her, "Hey, Jenna." She smiles back, taking out her keys before speaking, "I haven't seen you since last night." You just disappeared. "I uh, had to do something," you reply. She shakes smiling, "Well, I'll talk to you later." She unlocks her door and waves goodbye before entering her home.

It's been months since that interaction, months since you've worked at the bar. Everything was falling into place. You helped Ross with rent, and you talked to Jenna daily, having your moments every now and then. You were on your way to surprise Jenna with a jaw of your homemade jam.

You knock on her door which she opens in a matter of seconds, only in a robe and slippers. "Oh? Is this a bad time? I can-" She smiles and steps aside. "No, come in. I just got out of the shower. I'm glad you're here."

She takes the jar from your hands and sets it on the counter. "This looks amazing. Thank you for thinking of me." She turns to you and hugs you. "It really means a lot to me that you'd do something like this for me." She pulls away and smiles.

"Yeah, of course. It's just a thank you for the cheesecake." She laughs. "You're too sweet. I appreciate it." She looks around the kitchen. "Here, let's try it together."

She sets two spoons on the counter and you open the jar, sitting down on the bar stool. You both take a spoonful of strawberry jam, staring at each other for a reaction. Her eyes widen, and she smiles. She takes another spoonful, and you do the same. You both savor the sweet flavor of the jam and the moment of connection.

She reaches out and takes your hand into hers. You can feel the warmth of her skin and the electricity of the moment. "How do you rate--" You're cut off by a pair of lips attaching to yours. She pulls away and looks into your eyes. You can feel your heart racing as you realize what just happened. She smiles and says, "That's how I rate it."

You bring her into another kiss, standing up from the bar stool as her hands get tangled in your hair. You break off the kiss and gaze at her in wonder. She smiles again and you can feel yourself falling for her. You move closer to her, your heart beating faster with anticipation as you bring her in for another kiss. She responds eagerly, her body melting into yours. The kiss deepens, and you know that you will never be the same.

Her hands move to your jacket, peeling it off of your body. She pulls you closer, her eyes never leaving yours as you move to the couch, your lips never breaking apart, you lower her onto the couch. You lightly brush your hands against her skin as you take in her beauty, and gosh, was it amazing.

Her eyes close as you move your lips to her neck, she lets out a soft moan and grips your shoulders. "Fuck, Y/N. I want you so bad." You smile as you feel her desire. You start to kiss her again, this time more passionately and with more intensity. You both forget everything else as you melt into each other.

"I want you too," you whisper back, sitting up to take off your shirt. She follows suit, eagerly taking off her robe and reaching for the zipper of your pants. You reach down and take off your pants, taking off your underwear as well.

She bites her lip as she leans forward and kisses you intensely, her hands exploring your body. You feel yourself growing at her touch, falling backwards as she straddles you. She smiles, her eyes filled with desire, and she takes your hand and guides you inside her.

You close your eyes as you feel her warmth envelop you. "I've been wanting you for so long," she sighs, moving her hips slowly. "Do you feel how wet I am?" You can feel her heat radiating through her, and the passion rising. You nod and pull her closer to you, letting your hands roam her body. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss.

You grip her tightly as you move in unison, her moans getting louder with each thrust. "Jenna." You moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. She cries out in pleasure her moments becoming faster and more needy, "Say my name again."

You whisper her name in her ear, she shudders and tightens her grip, her back arching as she cries out in pleasure. "I'm about to cum, shit..." She whines, gripping your bicep.

You bite your lip as you thrust one last time, feeling her body tense around you as the waves start to crash over her. She clings to you, her fingers digging into your skin as the pleasure washes over her. "Y/N!!!"

You groan, "Jenna. I'm about to cum." She bites her lip, "Cum inside me, c'mon baby fill me up." You let out a low moan as you release, feeling her walls contract around you. She wraps her arms around your neck, her lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close as you both come down from the high.

"Round two?" She smiles, her eyes twinkling. She takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. You both laugh, feeling the thrill of anticipation.

THREE MONTHS LATER

It was your birthday and Ross and Jenna decided to throw a party for you, a small one at least. Jack, Melissa, Mason, Mikey, and everyone came to celebrate. You had also invited Zoe, but she was running late as you anxiously bounced your leg on the couch.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and you sprang up to open the door. To your surprise, Zoe had finally arrived and was standing at the doorstep with a big smile on her face.

"Isabella!" You jokingly shout you've been teasing Zoe about her middle name for a while now. Zoe laughed and shook her head in mock exasperation. She hugged you and stepped into the house. "It's so good to see you. Happy birthday!" she said.

You smiled and thanked her, and as she walk beside you, placing her arm on your bicep.

Ross looked over at Jenna who watched the situation with a blank face. "Who is that?" he asks, approaching Jenna, watching the scene in front of him. "Her co-worker." She answers, her eyes never leaving the two of you. Ross furrows his eyebrows, confused. "Why would she invite her co-worker to a birthday party?"

"I don't know." Jenna harshly says, jealously burning throughout her body. Ross looks back and forth between Jenna and the situation. "I mean she is cute." He says, shrugging as he takes another sip of his drink. Jenna rolls her eyes and looks at Ross. "Want me to ask if she's interested in idiot for you?" He lets out a laugh, shaking his head.

"I think I already know the answer because she's definitely interested in your girlfriend." Jenna scoffs in response, "It's not mutual."

"I never said it was." Jenna looks away, her expression unreadable. "Or maybe it is... a bit." Ross raises an eyebrow as Jenna continues, "I think Y/N's not fully... satisfied with our relationship."

Ross thinks for a bit before realizing where this is going. "Ugh, no Jenna. I do not wanna have this convo with you." Jenna grunts in frustration. "Too bad you are."

"No, the hell I'm not." He says before walking away. Jenna follows Ross, her voice rising in volume. "Ross, I'm trying to talk to you about something important." Ross lets out a dramatic groan, "I don't wanna talk to you about how you're not fucking my best friend right."

Jenna stops in her tracks, "Fine." Ross thanks her gratefully, before leaving to retrieve your birthday gift. Jenna does the same, leaving your apartment to go to hers and bring you the cheesecake she had made. When she returns she sees you hugging Zoe tightly before pulling away, a silver necklace in your hands. Jenna quickly walks away, upset and sad.

"You got her a cheesecake for her birthday? Really?" Ross says from behind her. "Yes." She replies blankly with an eye roll. Ross looks over to you, watching Zoe put the necklace around your neck. He then glances back at Jenna, sighing. "Don't worry, she doesn't even like wearing jewelry."

Jenna laughed, shaking her head. "At least I know what she likes." Ross smiled and the three of them shared a moment of understanding. Jenna smiled at Ross before turning back to you. She began walking over proudly, showcasing the cheesecake to you.

It read "Happy Birthday" with a red heart on it. "Aww, thank you, love." You smile, giving Jenna a quick peck. Jenna blushes, looking away bashfully. Ross chuckles, happy for the two of you as you all miss the frown on Zoe's lips. Zoe quickly looks away, pretending to be busy with her phone. Jenna notices and her smile widens.

It's been two more months since your birthday. Your life has been going okay. You're still working at the bar to help Ross and you're still dating Jenna, but you're so busy you barely get to see her. You miss her a lot and you want to make more time for her, but it feels like you're stuck in a rut. You've been thinking about making a change, but you don't know where to start. You sigh out, unlocking Jenna's front door and greeting her.

She quickly gets up from the couch, arms crossed. As you lean in for a kiss, she leans back. She looks away, and you can feel the distance between you. You take a deep breath, "What's wrong?" Her jaw clenches, "Where were you?"

You avoid her gaze and reply, "I was at work." She looks away again and shakes her head. "I don't believe you", she says. "Well, that's where I was!" She looks at you skeptically, "I don't believe you. You've been avoiding me for weeks."

You take a deep breath. You were so tired and you didn't wanna do this right now. "I've been working, Jen. You know this? I was doing overtime so Ross could have some days off."

She scoffs, uncrossing her arms. "Do you think I'm stupid?" You look away, not sure what to say. You don't want to argue, and you're telling the truth! "No."

"Then why the hell are you lying to me?" You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I'm not lying," you insist. "I'm honestly telling you the truth! I was WORKING." You say, raising your voice. She looks at you incredulously. "You expect me to believe that?" she says, shaking her head.

"Yes? It's the truth."

She shoves you, "Fucking liar!" You barely move at the shove.

"It IS the truth!" You reply angrily. She looks away, her face filled with anger and disbelief. "I don't believe you," she repeats. You grit your teeth, but take a deep breath. You know she won't believe anything you say, so you don't bother trying to defend yourself. "Okay, then, I'm done."

"Oh? You're done with me?" You sigh, running a hand down your face. "I meant with this," you motion with your hands. "I'm done with the argument. Or! Maybe I should be done with you. Maybe I'll be happier."

She doesn't say anything, and the two of you stand there in silence. After a few moments, you turn away and walk off without another word.

"That's all you remember?" The cop asks, writing on a notepad. You nod, sniffling. "Yeah, that's all I remember until I woke up." The cop finishes writing and looks up at you. "Are you okay to tell us more?"

You nod immediately, "I can tell you the rest." You take a deep breath and start speaking again. "The rest was fuzzy, blurry, and worrying. I wasn't scared," You shake your head, staring at the table for a second before locking eyes with the cop in front of you.

"I was worried. I wanted to know why I couldn't remember anything. When I woke up there was a bright light and glass surrounding me. I remember thinking... what happened? Where was I? Why wasI here?"

You sit up, breathing heavily. Glass, four walls, just pure glass. What the fuck was going on? You lift your hand to the back of your head and feel a bump. You slowly stand up and make your way to the glass wall, pressing your hands against it. You look around the room, searching for an exit.

There was a door. Locked. A small department to pass things through. Locked as well. You search for any other possible way out, but to no avail. Frustrated, you slam your fist against the wall. You were trapped. Suddenly, you hear a creaking sound of a door opening, you stare into the dark shadows, and suddenly someone appears from it.

"Jenna?" You whisper, tears beginning to form in your eyes. She steps forward and the look on her face, is terrifying. She wasn't going to let you out. She takes a step closer and you take a step back. You can see the determination in her eyes. She won't let you go.

She places a hand on the glass wall. "Don't be scared, Y/N." You take a deep breath and try to remain calm. You can see her eyes soften, but you know she still won't let you go. You press your hand against the glass, knowing you won't be able to get out.

"Please... please let me out, Jen." Jen slowly shook her head and said, "I can't, Y/N. I'm sorry." She looked away, letting out a sigh. "It's just... I do so much for you... it hurt to hear you say those words to me." You look away, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I was angry Jenna! I didn't mean it."

Jenna removes her hands from the glass, "You're just saying that. You don't care about me the way I care about you." You shake your head, "YOU HIT ME JENNA! AND—AND THEN YOU TRAP ME IN A CAGE? SOMEONE WHO CARES WOULDN'T DO THIS." Jenna looks away, silent. You take a deep breath and turn around, running a hand through your hair.

"Y/N. Y/N!" She shouts at you, and you turn around pressing your hand on the glass. Her brown doe eyes stare at you, taking in every detail of your face. "I love you." She presses her hand against the glass, mimicking your own. "And loving someone means you'll do anything for them."

You stare at her, unsure of where she's going with this. "Everything good that's been happening is because of me, Y/N." You shake your head, "What?"

"Ross getting his dream job, that was me playing with a few strings. You moving next to me, that was me as well. You getting that stupid fucking job, that was me as well! There have been things that I've done that I held out from you. Like killing Ana... she was going to ruin us, Y/N. I had to do it for us. We can be together now, without any worries."

Your eyes widen at the girl in front of you. Is that why Ana never reached out to you? Because she was dead? You take a step back in shock, not able to believe what you were hearing. You felt the tears come to your eyes as you take in the full situation. You were speechless. "Say something!" Jenna shouts, startling you out of your trance.

"Where—where's Zoe?" You whisper. Did she kill her too? Jenna's face falls at your words, removing her hand from the glass a second time. "Dead."

You shake your head in disbelief and your vision blurs as tears stream down your face. You sink to the ground, feeling a crushing wave of grief wash over you. You feel numb, unable to process the news. You try to take a deep breath, but it catches in your throat. You feel a sudden emptiness in your chest and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You slump against the wall, trying to make sense of what you just heard. "You're sick, Jenna! You're a fucking murderer!"

Your mind starts to think of the worst, "Are you going to hurt me? Oh my god, fuck!" Jenna rushes over to you, crouching to be eye-to-eye with you. "I'd never hurt you, Y/N." She presses both of her hands against the glass, watching as you look at her in horror.

She stares at you a bit before getting up and leaving, noticing this you stand back up. "JENNA! WAIT!" But she doesn't stop.

She returns the next morning with breakfast. You apologize for your behavior the night before and thank her for breakfast. She smiles and tells you that it's all right.

You had some time to think, to calm down, and to take everything in. Your girlfriend was kidnapping you, and she was doing it out of fear that you were going to leave her. If you want to escape this you know you have to tell her what she wants to hear.

That you forgive and you understand completely on why she was doing all of this.

You take a bite of your bagel and Jenna watches you, a small smile on her face as she sits in front of the cage eating her sandwich.

You look up and meet her gaze, offering a kind smile. "I used to eat bagels every day when I went to middle school," you tell her. Her face lights up. "Really? Isn't that kind of unhealthy?"

You laugh with her and nod, "Yeah, but I didn't care. I always thought only rich and privileged businessmen ate bagels so I begged my mom to buy some."

Jenna laughs, shaking her head before her smile begins to fade."I'm sorry. I know how much you miss her." You smile and shrug. "It's okay. We all just have our own way of coping." Jenna nodded in agreement smiling at you.

When you finish breakfast Jenna walks up to the cage, pressing her hand against the glass. You quickly stand up, mocking her movement. "Do you forgive me?" She whispers, and you can barely hear her.

"Fully. I had some time to think, and I understand that you only want what's best for me. I don't think anyone has cared for me the way you do." Jenna smiles, her brown eyes glistening with tears. She reaches into her bag, pulling out a pair of keys. Yes. Yes. Yes.

She opens the cage and you slowly walk towards her. Jenna wraps her arms around you and holds you close. When you pull apart you push her onto the ground, searching the room for a weapon.

Jenna stares up at you in shock, as you grab a knife from the table. You raise the knife above your head, ready to strike, but she runs away, tripping on the rug inside the room.

You straddle her, pinning her down with your body. She cries out in fear as you raise the knife to deliver the final blow. "NO! I'M PREGNANT!"

You pause and look into her eyes, realizing the truth of her words. You drop the knife as her chest weaves up and down. "I'm pregnant." She repeats, tears forming in her eyes. You take a step back, shock and disbelief gripping you in its grasp.

You can feel your heart beating rapidly as you process the news. You look at her, uncertain of what to say or do. "I couldn't let you walk out on us, Y/N. I couldn't let our baby grow up without their mother."

She takes your hand into hers and brings it to her stomach. You feel a rush of emotion overwhelm you, and you look up into her eyes, now filled with love. You know in this moment that you will do whatever it takes to make sure your child is safe in the arms of her.

"I was so scared." You tell the cop. He stares at you, and his expression softens. "That's why Jenna killed Zoe. To protect me and our baby." He nods slowly, understanding. "I know," he says. "You did the right thing." He helps you to your feet and leads you away and outside the integration room.

He guides you back to the station's lobby, and you watch as he disappears down the hallway. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. Ross stands up from the bench, bringing you into a tight hug. Jenna appears from behind him, kissing you softly before rubbing her belly. "It's okay, baby. We're safe now." She whispers to you.

#reader insert #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna x g!p reader #jenna x y/n

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simstorian-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Residential Floorplan Suggestions

New York City: TWO

(CC List + Links)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Spice Market – Waterside Warble

Lot Size: 30 x 30

Capacity:

A Dive Bar

An Internet Café

A Pizzeria

A Tattoo Parlor

Bonus: 6 residential rental units floorplans completed – not assigned

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Discover University

For Rent

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Jungle Adventure

Outdoor Retreat

Parenthood

Spa Day

Star Wars: Journey to Batuu

Strangerville

Vampires

Stuff Packs

Crystal Creations

Home chef Hustle

Laundry Day

Moschino

Kits

Castle Estate

Courtyard Oasis

Cozy Bistro

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Carl’s Dine Out Reloaded

City Vibes Lot Traits

Functional Tattoo Parlor

Functional Venue Lot Traits

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

Spawn Refresh

Use Residential Rentals shared areas as Community Lots & Create Multi-Purpose Community Lots

Build Mode

CharlyPancakes

Chalk Pt.2 (Tiles)

Felixandre

Chateau Pt. 1 (Stone Foundation)

Chateau Pt. 2 (Doors, Metal Pieces, Tiles, Walls)

Colonial Pt. 3 (Fence 2, Plaster Foundation 2, Railing 2)

Florence Pt. 1 (Fresco Mural)

Grove Pt. 4 (Plaster Column, Plaster Floor)

London Interior (Dining Chair, Stool, Walls)

Paris (Cartouche Large, Corbel, Swag)

Schwerin (Terracotta Female)

SOHO Pt. 2

SOHO Pt. 3

SOHO Pt. 4

Harrie

Brownstone Pt. 2 (Traditional Door Frame – Med, Traditional Door – Med, Traditional Window 2 - Med)

Coastal Pt. 2 (Column)

Klean Pt. 3 (Concrete Floor, Painted Walls)

Kwatei Pt. 1 (3x1 BiFold, Double Arch, Single Interior Door)

Mutske

Stairs Add-on

Lijoue

Louer Collection (Iron Fence, Railing, Stone Stairs)

Peacemaker

Bistro Expanded (Awning 1x1)

Graffiti Mural 01

Pierisim

Winter Garden Pt. 2 (Double Door High, High Window w Bottom x2)

Sooky88

Checkered Marble Floor

English Country Wall Set (Subway Tiles, Subway Tiles w Wallpaper)

Scandinavian Wall Set (Plain w Tiles)

Syboubou

Neighborly 1 (Ceiling Outdoor Light, Mailbox)

Neighborly 2 (Interphone)

Buy Mode

AroundTheSims4

Laundromat (Seating x3 – Metal Base)

Tattoo Parlor (First Aid Kits, Gloves, Ink, Ink Display, Light, Saddle Stool, Tattoo Gun)

Cepzid

Functional Tattoo Chair

Felixandre

Berlin Pt. 1 (Curtain – Tall)

SOHO Pt. 1

Harlix

Baysic (Coffee Table, container, End Table, Kitchen Cabinet, Kitchen Counter, Kitchen Island, Kitchen Sink, Kitchen Trolley, Kitchen Accent Counter 1-3, Sofa)

Jardane (Leather Pouffe)

Kichen (Cabinet, Cups, Glasses, Plant, Shelf)

Kichen 2.0 Pt. 2 (Glasses 2 & 4)

Harrie

Shop The Look 1 (Armchair, Coffee Table)

Shop The Look 2 (Ceramic Side Table)

Shop The Look 3 (Circular Cushion)

Spoons Pt. 2 (2 Tile Glass Pedastal- Short & Tall, Counters, Espresso Bar, Island, Pastry Platter, Pizza Board, Shelving)

Kiwisims4

Blockhouse Dining (Booth Seating)

KKB

The Chilling Home (Module Bar Stool)

LittlleDica

Greasy Foods (Napkins, Salt Shaker, Stalls Door, Stalls Wall, Vents, Wet Floor Sign)

Modern Kitchen Stuff (Soft Breeze)

Rise & Grind (Décor Mural 2, Décor Syrup Bottle, Décor Wall Painting Menu, Dining Tables – All, Wastebun Counter)

Max20

Happily Ever After (Sign of Attention)

NANDO

Fashion Store (Ceiling Lamp)

Pierisim

Coldbrew Coffee Shop Pt. 3 (Menu, Paper Cup, Tea Box, Tips Jar)

MCM Pt. 1 (Simstudio Display)

MCM Pt. 4 (Kitchen Island)

Ravasheen

Shake and Shimmy Dance Floor

Shop Chef (Drink Dispenser)

Severinka

Industrial Light II

Simkoos

Clutter Dump Pt. 2 (Boba Notepad, Boba Stacked Cups V1, Cafeteria Straw Dispenser)

SimspirationBuilds

Toffee Pt. 1 (Art)

Syboubou

Catherine Sushi Restaurant (Wall Shelf 1 & 3)

Contemporary Haven (Armchair, Artworks, End Table, Sofa 3P Left)

Macaron (Counter Display)

TaurusDesign

Lilith Chilling Area Pt. 1 (Bartender Kit, All Drinks, SulSul Sign)

Tuds

Cave (Panel Light 2 x 4)

IND 01

IND 03

Turn Couch

Wondymoon

Fraxinus AIO Computer (DL on Patreon)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

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talaok · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter one: The perfect life

Pairing: No-outbreak!Joel x married!reader

Series summary: You moved to Austin Texas with your husband due to his job, but your already troubled marriage is about to get more complicated when the contractor remodeling your home, Joel Miller, will enter both of your lives.

Chapter summary: Moving to Austin was the right decision, but you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong.

warnings: hints to the reader's unhappy childhood, and a very short smut moment

Next chapter

New city, new home, new life.

You should have been happy, you really should have been, but the weight that had sat on your chest as you got on the plane had lingered.

You wanted this. You had to.

You had the perfect life.

A big house with an even bigger lawn, more money than you ever thought possible, and a loving husband.

A loving husband of two years, a loving husband who had to move to Texas for work, a loving husband who you followed across the country, leaving everything and everyone behind, because it's him, and you love him.

Yes. You love him, just as he loves you.

You just needed time, time to adjust, and find a way to start new.

And Austin seemed as good a place as any.

It's warm and sunny here, and the city has an aura you had never quite encountered in any other place.

It's different from New York, yes, but different is good, different means change, and you needed a change.

"I smell burnt"

"oh- shit" you hissed, your gaze finally dropping from the window and down towards the pan where bacon was frying.

You turned the stove off and opened the window, trying to get some of the smell out.

"You ok?"

You looked at Richard, his deep blue eyes, perfectly slicked-back hair, and the tailored suit hugging his body like a second skin made him look as if he had come straight out of a commercial.

He wasn't watching you anymore, his attention had moved to the coffee maker.

"yeah I'm fine, I'm just a little tired I guess"

"you should rest today," he said, pouring some coffee into a cup

"I will" you nodded, glancing at the pan "I should probably make more bacon"

"don't worry" he stopped you "I'll just eat something on the way"

"you sure?"

"Yeah" He took a sip from his mug and set down on a stool

"So..." you walked to the opposite side of the kitchen counter to face him "Are you nervous?"

He raised his eyes from his phone to look at you.

"Why would I be? I'm the boss"

"yeah, but it's still your first day"

He shrugged "I just want to get it over with, today's only gonna be meetings and people introducing themselves, tomorrow's gonna be my actual first day"

"right," you offered him a small smile "And have you talked to Francis?"

"Yeah, he said he'll show me around today"

He stood up to place the cup in the sink.

"and about the remodeling?"

"Right, yeah he gave me a number, I'll text it to you"

"great"

Silence fell, and with it, a spell seemed to turn you both to stone

He broke it first

"Right" he glanced at his watch "I better go"

"Right," you said, taking a step closer to him.

His lips were on and off of yours so quickly you wondered if you had imagined it.

"Have a great day" you managed, as he walked out of the room

"you too"

__ __ __

The shelves had finally started to come to life.

"Why do we have to bring all your books, it's a waste of time" you recalled Richard saying "It's not like you're gonna read all of them again"

It infuriated you how he didn't get it, how completely baffled he was by your decision.

Like hell you were leaving such an important part of you back home.

Some of the volumes filling the living room you've had since you were a child, some of these stories raised you when there was no one else bothering to do the job.

A small, unexpected smile pulled at your lips as your gaze fell to the last remaining book in the box.

'scary stories to tell in the dark'

You were only 12 years old when you read it. You had found it in the school library, and tempted by a bravado that didn't belong to you, you had picked it up and stuffed it in your bag, carrying it all the way home as if it were the most precious treasure ever known to man.

It had helped silence the screams down the hallway, but it also made it impossible for you to sleep for a whole week.

A quiet laugh climbed your throat as you remembered watching every shadow in your room mutate into a horrifying monster.

You had never given it back.

The barely-together copy in your hands was the same one you had held 22 years ago.

For some reason, out of all the books you've read, this one you held closer to your heart.

Perhaps it was the rebellion behind the act, or perhaps, it was the feeling that that book had given you, the courage, the proof that you could do it, that you were gonna come out the other end, the proof, at last, that monsters can be fought, and at times even defeated.

You sighed, as you settled the book onto the now overflowing shelf, taking a step back to admire the living room.

That's it.

Piece by piece, you were gonna make this your home.

The next hours passed in a frenzy and by the time only a box was left on the floor, it was two in the afternoon.

You had been so caught up with your work you had forgotten to eat.

And now that you realized... god if you weren't hungry.

It's just one more box though, you thought as you peeked at it.

Yeah, c'mon I can do this

Only the stuff for the coffee table remained, and as you took the first item-

Fuck.

The shattered lamp rested on the floor like paint on a Pollok.

Fuck me, man, that was expensive.

You cringed as you bent to try and pick up the sharp pieces, but of course, as a ringing sounded across the room, you gasped and lost your focus, cutting your finger on the glass.

A stinging pain shot through you and you winced loudly, stumbling backward while trying hard not to look at the blood.

This really wasn't the time to be fainting.

Your phone was still annoyingly ringing.

"What?" you picked up without bothering to look

"I'm sorry is this a bad time?" what sounded like a confused male's voice spoke through the phone.

"Richard?" you frowned as you realized it was an unknown number "I'm sorry who's this?"

"I'm Joel, Joel Miller, from the contracting company" he paused "Your husband gave me your number"

"oh" you breathed "I-I'm sorry, he didn't tell me"

"Ma'am if this is a bad time I can call you later"

"no, no please don't worry I just- Now it's fine"

"ok good, your husband has told me you want to do some remodeling?"

"Yeah, we have a big room on the second floor that's unutilized and I'd like to build up a wall and make it into two rooms, perhaps a guest bedroom and bathroom"

He hummed, considering your words "That shouldn't be a problem, I'd like to come to your house one of these days so I can see the space firsthand"

"Yeah sure" You nodded, wrapping a paper towel around your finger once you walked to the kitchen "Would tomorrow be alright?"

"Absolutely, how does 10:30 sound?"

"perfect" you smiled

"Alright then, if you just give me your address we're gonna be all set"

"of course"

__ __ __

he didn't come home for dinner.

"I'll eat out with some of my colleagues"

That's all he said.

And before you knew it you were heating a frozen pizza in the oven, and watching the sun disappear on the horizon through the kitchen window.

It was good that he stayed out, that's what you kept repeating in your head.

It's good that he's already getting to know his colleagues, and it's good that he's already settling in, it's perfect.

It's what you should be doing.

And yes you would have liked to spend more time with him today, but there's still tomorrow, and the day after that... there's still the rest of your life, one day certainly won't make a difference.

And it's not like you didn't enjoy the quiet, it gave you time to think, to look around the bare walls and ponder what you should fill them with.

A painting there, a mirror there, photos there... it was all coming together in your head.

The house had started to look more like a home, your home.

It was 9 pm by the time you decided to go to bed, it was early for your standards, but you'd had a long day.

He wasn't home yet.

You didn't know what time it was when you heard the front door open, but you were still awake, having tossed and turned hoping to tire yourself out for what felt like an eternity.

"hey" you murmured, once he entered the bedroom

"What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep"

He only nodded, as he started undressing

"So how did it go?"

"well," he said "Everyone seems nice enough"

"I'm glad" you smiled, turning on your side to look at him better "I unboxed everything for the living room today"

"cool," he sighed, hanging his suit and walking into the bathroom.

You laid there, listening to the toilet flush and the sink being shut on and off.

He emerged from the door again and made his way into the bed.

"And the contracting guy called" you continued, as he made himself comfortable "He'll come by tomorrow"

"that's good" he breathed, turning the light off

"I told him what we wanna do and he said it shouldn't be a problem"

"yeah?" he asked, as you felt him shuffle closer to you

"Yup, he said he's done stuff like that before and he just needs to-" Your words got lost in your throat once you felt his hand travel to your chest.

"Richard?" you murmured, while his mouth moved to your shoulder and slowly up your neck.

The smell of his two hundred dollars aftershave hit your nostrils immediately.

"mh?" he hummed, letting his hand sneak down to find your ass through your shorts.

"Richard... I'm tired" you whimpered

"C'mon baby, you don't have to do anything I'll do all the work"

His hands on you felt inexplicably wrong right at that moment.

"I just-" you tried to slowly shift away from his grip "I've unpacked all day, I don't feel like it"

He emitted an audible groan "Y/n it's been like a month since you've last felt like it"

Your mouth closed as quickly as it had opened.

It was the truth, you hadn't been in the mood for a while now.

"I'm sorry, I don't know- maybe tomorrow..."

He sighed, pushing himself off of you

"Whatever"

A small gust of air sent a shiver up your spine as he got up.

"where are you going?" you asked, watching his shadow move around the room.

"I'll just watch some tv or something"

"oh- alright," your voice was so small you almost didn't sound like yourself.

He didn't seem to hear you as he closed the door behind him, casting a veil of darkness over the room.

Once again, you were alone.

You turned towards the window, the moon's soft glow split the ocean of blue in the sky, shily lighting the neighborhood.

You felt a knot in your stomach, a sudden urge to cry, but as you watched the wind glide through the leaves and trees and grass, you were able to breathe, breath with each gust, slowly willing your heart to stop racing and your eyes to dry.

There was nothing to cry about.

Everything was good, great, fantastic even.

You had the perfect life.

Everything you had ever dreamed of was right in your grasp.

You just needed time, and everything was gonna work itself out fine.

…

Next chapter

...

(if you’d like to be added to the taglist comment or text me)

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tacitoru · 1 year ago

Text

"caution! this could get ugly" - eren yeager

Pairing: eren x reader

Summary: It's hard to get into the Christmas spirit when you work through winter break. But when you attend your coworker's annual ugly sweater party in an attempt to get into the holiday spirit, a certain green-eyed line cook is determined to make that a challenge.

Or;

The Chili's!AU Christmas party one-shot no one asked for

wc: 6.6k

Tags: enemies to lovers, coworkers!au

Content warnings: smut, oral ( f receiving), spit play, drug references, eren has big ass hands, minors dni

my first fic in an anime fandom, pls be gentle! you can't tell me eren doesn't give off headass-but-secretly-softie line cook vibes... you can't tell me he doesn't look like that one guy you wanted to smash that one time at work!

um...happy holidays, y'all!

read on ao3 | masterlist | twt

The lady at table six doesn’t deserve about half of the attitude that she’s getting from you tonight. Besides, it’s not her fault all of the sides to each meal she ordered were wrong. It’s not her fault her appetizer had to be recalled two times because there were onions in the guacamole on both instances when her chips and dip platter arrived at the table. She’s not the one who cooked her husband’s steak well-done instead of medium-rare. Of course not, because as she oh-so considerably informs you over the distressed screams of her high-chair-bound toddler, she would never cook a New York strip steak like that.

But between the chaos of the dinner rush and the mishaps of a particular line cook who seems hell-bent on making your night as difficult as possible, table six and her husband are lucky that you are even able to flash them a drawn smile before stalking off.

The double doors to the kitchen – so lovingly called the heart of the house - are a thin veil between utter mayhem and the generally calm atmosphere of the dining area, never staying for longer than a second as waiters rush to tend to their tables. Stepping into the chaos, several obstacles stand between you and the culprit of your terrible night. Fellow employees swarm the narrow walking space, and you slip by with practiced ease and the occasional apology. You’re almost a little envious as you take note of them – no one else looks as half as pressed as you do tonight. As they should be, it’s only a Tuesday night. Not even the weekend yet. And yet, as you shimmy your way through the back of the house, you can’t help but feel a similar fatigue and exasperation that typically follows a Friday night shift. This only serves to further solidify your resolve as you duck past a team of waiters off to serve a business party. A long, stainless-steel counter runs the length of the kitchen space, with shelves that reach the ceiling, effectively separating the servers from the cooking staff. Waiters and line cooks take turns sliding completed and returned orders beneath the shelving, and heat lamps attached to the bottom of the last shelf to preserve the food. It is within this space that you all but shove your head beneath the heat lamps to give Eren Jaeger a piece of your mind.

“Do you have a problem?”

“Yeah, actually.” Eren, standing idly over the stove top adjacent to you whips around at the sound of your voice. He makes a wry face at the sight of you, hunched over the countertop and under the warm hutch, forced to cram your neck in a certain direction to give Eren the full force of your scowl. For all his nonchalance, there’s a glint in his eyes. “You haven’t come to talk to me since you started your shift.”

You blink once, twice, before all but slamming your head into the shelf above you in an attempt to swipe at Eren across the counter. “Are you – are you fucking joking right now? Are you actually fucking messing with my table’s orders because I didn’t say ‘hi’ when I walked in?” Eren sucks his teeth, pretending to rearrange some condiments in front of him. “You’ve been here for two hours already. It’s polite to greet your seniors. Seems you’ve lost all your manners while you were away at college.”

Right eye twitching at the condescending note in his tone, you rear back, ready to straight up drag him into the walk-in and show him just how polite your fists could be. That thought is quickly sidetracked as a broom handle to the back of the knees sends you stumbling back from the countertop. Your manager stands behind you, arms akimbo, broom in one hand. He pointedly offers you a serving tray.

“Your steak is getting cold.” Stern, curt, and orderly, your night manager is infamous for running a tight ship. But even he, for all his methodology and patience, gets run ragged by the customer service industry. If you thought you were over tonight, Levi looks just about ready to turn in his two weeks.

“What about-,”

“I’ll handle him. Now get back to your other tables before I make you clean the bathrooms.” The night shift manager threatens to strike you with the broom handle again before passing off the tray and pushing you in the right direction.

You spare an accusatory glare at Eren, who watches on in bemusement. Rude bitch, he mouths, wiggling his fingers in a girlish wave.

The rest of the night goes on fairly smoothly. The dinner rush subsides just as quickly as it came. No one asks you to sing the Happy Birthday song. The incident at table six lands you a meager tip, but you grin and bear it. Better than nothing at all. Or worse, change. This seems to be the case for Sasha, a regular dinner shift waitress. She marches through the double doors with a fist full of nickels and dimes courteous of her last table of the night – a group of college students. Cursing under her breath, it’s obvious your coworker is ready to call it a night hide in the back with a basket of rolls until close.

There’s an obvious shift in mood as your team transitions to its closing routine. As Levi thanks the last customers for the night and locks the door behind them, the tension from the day seems to almost melt away instantaneously. Connie, a back-of-the-house member who ends up stuck by the dishwasher most nights, takes the opportunity to hijack the restaurant’s stereo system to blast trap music you only know the chorus to.

Closing, believe it or not, is your favorite part of the job. You take pride in how dutifully you restock, fold cutlery, wipe tables, and somehow always manage to avoid being assigned the task of sweeping the dining areas. You’d rather be caught dead before you struggle with that insolent, brittle plastic broom against an entire night’s worth of grime and dropped food. Instead, when Levi wordlessly hands it off to you this time, you make your way to the back of the house, prepared to bestow this lovely gift to the main antagonist of your shift.

You discover Eren lounging outside the storage shed behind the restaurant, the tell-tale sign of the flicker of a lighter giving him away. And the smell. The heady burn of a Backwood climbs its way up your nostrils as you approach him, languidly smoking half a blunt on the clock.

“Y’know the longer you sit out here, the longer it’s gonna take for us to get the fuck out, right?” Eren greets your matter-of-fact tone with a cloud of smoke, thick and distinct in the crisp winter night air. You shoot Eren a disapproving look as you approach plastic broom in hand, fully prepared to guilt trip your coworker into taking on your least favorite closing duty. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight, aren’t you? You’re so lucky it’s too cold for Levi to come out here and bust your ass himself.”

This isn’t the first time the heart-of-the-house worker had snuck off to light up before joining the clean-up routine. Connie and Eren regularly covered for each other’s smoke breaks, so often that even Levi began to turn a blind eye as long as everyone clocked out on time. The line cooks' routine typically didn’t affect much on your end unless it was a night like this – a night when everyone had plans afterward.

Tonight, there was a holiday party at stake.

“Levi’s got a soft spot for me, you know,” Eren scoffs, taking another drag from the half-smoked blunt. He still has yet to fully face you, perched on a stack of discarded crates and angled away from the kitchen’s back entrance. Tucked away in the shadow of the storage shed, Eren ashes off the corner of the small building. “Besides, even he can’t resist my charm.”

Rolling your eyes, you wave the plastic broom in front of him, threatening to poke him in the ribs when he begins to protest. “Charm won’t save you from sweeping duty tonight. After what your petty ass put me through tonight – here, take it.”

Eren raises an eyebrow, throwing his hands up in protest when you move to toss the broom handle at him carelessly. He gripes, “I’ve got better things to do than clean up after you.” The blunt in his hand smolders near his fingertips. You pluck it from his hands with little resistance and take a hit, brow crinkling at the taste. Your lungs ache and warm at the sensation.

“Yeah? Yeah, like this?” You wheeze and hope he attributes the water gathering at the corners of your eyes to the cold. “Just get it done, and let’s finish this so we can all get to the party on time.” Eren watches in dismay as you stomp out the remains of his roach.

“Someone’s in a hurry…A Grinch like you, it can’t possibly be the Christmas spirit?” Eren narrowly avoids being jabbed in the ribs again, jumping from his hiding spot when you lunge. He eyes your tense shoulders, nearly hiked up to your ears, and the impatience in your stance. In the years you’ve worked together, your general disdainful demeanor towards him is nothing new, but there’s something else. Something else that leads Eren to believe that the dark flush of your cheeks has little to do with the winter air. He swipes the broom from your grasp, approaching you with a wolfish grin. You instinctively take a step back, a little less confident now with the broom no longer as your barrier. Confronting Eren over kitchen counters, between restaurant booths, and across busy back-of-the-house spaces in the presence of your other coworkers was one thing. But as the young man towers over you, gaze shadowed in the dim glow of the moon and the weak holiday lights haphazardly strewn about the awning around the restaurant, you can’t help but shrink a little under his direct attention.

After a tense moment of silence, Eren relents. “Alright, alright. I’ll get it done. But you owe me a dance later at the party.”

Your stupor was broken, you sputter and gawk up at him, at his audacity. “I- Me? Dance for you? Dream on, slacker. Now, move it. I’ve got tables to wipe down, and I’m not waiting for you to finish sweeping.”

Working at Pepper’s had only meant to be a summertime gig, at first. Looking for a quick way to make some cash before the start of your first year in college, the local Tex-Mex chain restaurant was your least enthusiastic option. A popular location in your small town, it was one of a few dining options that didn’t require you to drive out into the city to enjoy. The idea of running into one of your former high school classmates while donning the company apron and signature red visor, toting a serving tray - or worse, working with one of them - mortified you. But chain restaurants were always hiring, and you needed money fast. Eventually, working the evening shift as a waitress during breaks from school became the norm - until now. Now, as the start of the final spring semester of your undergraduate program approaches, you're left to consider what the next summer will really look like for you once you graduate. Besides, it wasn’t like this was going to be your career, right?

Right?

In your years on staff, Sasha’s ugly sweater party had become an unofficial team bonding event of sorts. No matter how new someone was to the staff or how frequently they were on shift, everyone came to Sasha’s. And everyone came dressed accordingly, or you were turned away at the door. A night of ugly sweaters, spiked eggnog, and best of all, Secret Santa. Since your freshman year of college, Sasha’s holiday party was always something you could look forward to.

You anxiously eye a little red gift bag from across your coworker’s living room, trying to hide your grimace behind your second glass of wine.

“You look like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off.” The hostess of the night is pretty quick to clock your demeanor. Sasha slides onto the couch next to you, her sweater an egregious display of flashing multicolored lights, silver tinsel, and a giant patch of Rudolph the red nose reindeer sledding down a mountain in sunglasses stitched to her chest.

You force a smile, attempting to play off your nerves. “No bomb, just…Secret Santa jitters, you know?”

“Ah, the classic Secret Santa anxiety.” Your companion watches as your nervous gaze flickers from the gift table to a certain couple in matching argyle sweaters with tiny Christmas trees sewn in between the jacquard diamonds, huddled in the doorway into the kitchen. Sasha’s eyes widen in understanding. “Can I take a wild guess at who you got?”

You realize you’re not-so-subtly glaring at Jean, who’s laughing with his uninvited guest across the room. Jean, your coworker, and former daytime shift waiter. Jean, your friend whom you’ve admired from afar for his kindness and tenacity. Jean, who got promoted to manager at some point while you were away finishing your last fall semester at college and didn’t tell you. Jean, whom you have the worst, most horrendous crush on. You take another sip from your drink to avoid the pitiful look you know is on Sasha’s face. “I just hope he likes what I got him. I mean, we’re not exactly best buddies or anything...”

If Sasha catches the sour note in your voice, she says nothing to acknowledge it. “I’m sure you know him better than you think.”

You can’t help but huff in exasperation. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it? Ever since I switched from dayshift in the fall, ever since I went back to campus, he’s been so distant. I could’ve sworn we were getting somewhere over the summer, but now…” You tip your glass listlessly in the direction of the object of your ire, whose arm is wrapped around none other than Mikasa, a waitress who quit last year but still hangs around some of your coworkers. Apparently.

Everyone comes to Sasha’s Christmas party.

It goes without saying that Jean is with Mikasa now, but your eyes can’t help but linger in his direction anyway. After all, the last time you saw him…

The pool party. That pool house. The surprise that colored his eyes and flushed his cheeks when you kissed him.

You shake off the memory, scowl deepening. The hostess herself leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, spill. What’d you get him?”

You glance around for any eavesdroppers before revealing, “A leather-bound journal. He’s always jotting things down, and I thought it might come in handy.”

Sasha squeezes the hand on your lap not balancing a drink and offers you an encouraging smile. “Not bad! Thoughtful and practical. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

You nod, a bit more reassured. “I hope so. It’s just…I really wanted to get him something he’d like, you know?” You watch as Jean presses a doting kiss to Mikasa’s forehead, smiling into her hairline. He has yet to look your way once, except for at your arrival.

Sasha pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry too much. It’s the thought that counts.”

The thought. You scoff. You think you might need a third glass of wine.

As Sasha wanders off to mingle with the other guests, a mix of cashiers and kitchen staff amused with seeing one another outside of shift schedules, your attention is drawn to Eren, who seats himself in the spot that Sasha once occupied with all the languor of someone who didn’t show up to the party sober. It doesn’t take much for him to reveal that he heard most of your previous exchange.

“Secret Santa jitters, huh?” he teases, propping himself up against one arm of the sofa. The line cook wears a dark blue cable knit sweater, with what you think is some horrific reimagining of Bob Ross knitted across his chest. Tiny, tinkling silver bells adorn the hem, glittering as he shifts in his seat. His hair, typically tied up and away from his face during shifts, spills loosely over his shoulders and shags over his eyes. You recall the way he looked at you earlier in the night behind the storage shed and remember his insistence that you dance with him at this party. In the warm lighting from the barrage of Christmas lights that line Sasha’s living room ceiling, he almost looks pretty like this.

You shoot him a look. “What’s it to you, Eren?”

“Just wondering if I made the nice list,” he quips, winking playfully. You make note of the lack of red rimming his eyes. Maybe he is sober then?

“Cute,” you scoff, trying to dismiss the way heat rises to your cheeks at the comment. Maybe you’re the one that needs to sober up. “Now go sweep something or whatever is it you do when you’re not getting high and crashing parties.”

Eren smirks but doesn’t leave. Instead, he nods in the direction of the gift table, of the little red disaster bag that haunts the corner of your eye. “So, who’s the lucky recipient of your generosity?”

You sigh, giving in to the conversation. “Well, the point of Secret Santa is that it’s a secret-,”

“Jean, huh? That’s interesting.” While you sputter at his presumptuousness, Eren’s expression tightens for a moment, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

Before you can question his tone – or how the hell he had even overheard you and Sasha, for that matter – Sasha calls for attention announcing the start of the gift exchange.

You leave Eren on the couch to grab your present, eager to get away from whatever that was. You have enough to be anxious about tonight without Eren Jeager getting into the mix. Unsure how Jean will react to your carefully chosen present, you grip the little red bag a little tighter.

In the end, you don’t even get to witness Jean’s reaction to your gift. All of that tension, all of your worries on the drive here, all of your anxiety leading up to this moment is all for naught. Eren Jeager makes sure of that.

He doesn’t even try to sound remorseful once he spills his wine down the front of your sweater just as you’re about to hand off your gift to your should-be-former crush. You had mustered up the courage to approach Jean, who had finally wrenched himself from Mikasa’s grasp for a brief moment to collect a wrapped parcel of his own. But as soon as you reach out to catch the day shift manager’s attention, your entire body is shifted off-center. Eren collides into your right side, tipping his glass into your chest with little more than a half-assed, “Whoops, my bad.”

You gasp, the force of Eren’s weight and a mix of shock and horror sending you reeling back from Jean. The surrounding partygoers come to a halt, Jean included as he turns to finally take in the sight of you for the first time tonight, mortified and doused in red wine that bleeds through the front of your white cashmere sweater like an open wound. The little red gift bag hangs limply in your hands.

Jean calls your name, voice colored with surprise and concern, but you’re already marching towards the bathroom, eyes stinging, hands shaking, dropping the gift bag somewhere on the way between pushing through little clusters of your coworkers all squeezed into Sasha’s homey apartment.

Much to your relief, the bathroom to the guest bedroom is already unlocked and unoccupied, a temporary haven for you to gather your bearings.

Or so you thought.

It’s not long before Eren finds you, gently knocking on the door with a soft call of your name. You’ve spent the past few minutes fruitlessly dabbing at the stain blossoming on your chest with paper towels and cold water, only succeeding in smearing it into a much larger mess. The snowflakes carefully stitched into the pattern of your sweater begin to take on a faint salmon color, the sight in the mirror only serving to fuel your frustration. Tears well up in your eyes as mortification over the night’s events threaten to overwhelm you, but Eren’s voice startles you into a sense of annoyance. In your panic and haste, you had forgotten to lock the door behind you.

The bathroom door swings open, and you glance up in time to see Eren duck inside, his expression softened with a hint of something you’re too bewildered to decipher. Your heart sinks when you realize Jean doesn’t file in behind him.

“Need some help?” Eren offers, an uncharacteristically sincere tone to his voice.

You shoot him a skeptical look, “Are you being serious right now?”

Rather than back off when met with your icy demeanor, Eren closes the door behind him. And rather than tell him off when he turns you to face him, nearly bumping heads in the cramped guest bathroom, you both set to work with damp paper towels.

You work in silence, under the harsh fluorescent lighting, the sounds of the party raging on outside. Eren’s touch is gentle, and purposeful as he braces your shoulder with one hand and dabs just under your neckline with the other. A pensive look falls over his face. You wait for an apology that doesn’t come.

Distantly, you hear the Christmas music switch to something with a little more bass and know that Connie has hijacked the speaker. As you dab at the hem of your sweater, convinced that the stain would be a permanent fixture in your sweater at this point, you glance up to notice a smile playing on your intruder’s lips.

You shoot him a withering look, “You think this is funny?”

Eren breaks out into a full-on smirk, impish even, looking a bit more like the line cook you’ve known to antagonize you. He tosses his paper towel in the trash and leans against the bathroom counter, his green eyes fixed on you. For a brief moment, they simmer with spitefulness. “I think it’s a hell of a lot less depressing than watching you openly moon over horse face.”

“Horse face?” You blanch. “You mean Jean-,”

“-Besides, I did you a favor. Now you don’t have to go and be disappointed him.”

Your frustration grows, but beneath it, there’s a spark of defiance. You snap at him, “What does it even matter to you, Eren? All night you’ve been on my case; at work, at this party! Whatever I give to Jean – whatever I have or don't have going with Jean is none of your business.”

You feel the tension between you, thick and charged, but the satisfied look on Eren’s face never wavers. He’s lax, head tilted back as he observes you over the bridge of his nose with a gaze that meets yours that could almost be described as bored if not for the hungry something lurking in them. That same look from your closing shift, passing him the broom. He’s not high anymore, you determine, hasn’t been for a while if the intense look expression, and the clarity of his gaze is anything to go by, so you can’t chalk it up to insobriety. You distantly wonder how much more often he’s looked at you like that. For how long? How have you never noticed? It seems so much more apparent like this, outside of work. So much harder to ignore with no metal counters to divide you, and no uniforms to keep up to code.

In your anger, you’ve stepped closer, balling the used towel in one fist and bracing against the counter with the other, half caging in the much taller man against the sink. You don’t realize how close you are, face to face like this, drawn in by the intensity of his eyes. The bathroom feels smaller, the air heavier, and you’re acutely aware of every beat of your heart.

You mutter, “What the hell is with you?” and he huffs a laugh through his nose, a real smile on his lips as you draw near.

“If only you fucking knew.”

Eren leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a bold move that leaves you momentarily stunned. For a moment, you forget about the chaos of the party outside. When he finally presses his lips to yours, it’s a slow kiss laced with arrogance, a statement of intent. And despite your annoyance, you can’t help the feeling of warmth that floods you. Hands seek each other out in a flurry of movement. The paper towels and spilled wine are forgotten as Eren’s hand slips around your waist, pulling you closer. Eren lets you cage him fully against the bathroom sink, if only to fit one leg between yours and slot his fingers from around your waist to the back of your neck, into your hair with the free hand not holding himself up against the counter.

The kiss is a collision of emotions – frustration, surprise, and an underlying current of something you hadn’t quite acknowledged before and aren’t entirely sure if you’re ready to either. Unhurried and messy, you can feel the groan that reverberates through Eren’s chest against your own as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. He tastes like smoke and red wine and metal. There’s no urgency behind his moments, languid with the way explores your mouth, as if a crowd of people you’ve worked with throughout some of the more formative years of your life aren’t separated from you by a singular door. As if the man you’d sworn you’d come back to try to commit to wasn’t a brisk walking distance away. He kisses you like a lover, and not like a man who has made it his mission to spend every waking moment you’ve had together grating your nerves.

Surprise shocks you at the swipe of his tongue ring against your lower lip. His thumb at your neck strokes along your chin, and your jaw with a touch that’s borderline reverent. A balmy, pleasant feeling unfurls in your chest, thrums in your veins as you allow him to tilt your head back and deepen the kiss. Eren’s lips are warm and insistent, and despite the bizarre circumstances, you feel right at home in his grasp.

The sounds of the party outside fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic thud of your heart in your ears.

You’re surprised at how gentle he is. Firm, unrelenting in his touch, sure, but with none of the simmering aggression you’d come to associate him with. Strong, sure hands, slide encircle your hips under your sweater, thumbs dragging across your hip bones at the hem of your jeans. Stoking that smoldering feeling in your chest, a simmering in your low belly. The sensation earns him a gasp, interrupted by his lips. It takes little convincing for you to remove the sweater altogether, discarding the article of clothing along with it.

You’re rewarded with a pained groan as Eren breaks the kiss long enough to admire you like this, all flush and disheveled from the neck up. His doing. Not Jean’s. He can’t help but feel smug satisfaction, finally having quelled that ugly, nagging feeling that had built up in his chest once he had realized just why you had been so anxious to get to the party tonight. None of that matters now. Eren is too focused on chasing the press of your hips against his. Too focused on the feeling of your lips and the little gasps you make each time he moves to tuck into the crook of your neck instead, teeth finding their way to the pliable skin at the juncture of your bare neck. Too enamored by the way the lust and wine make your eyes hazy and soft on him in a way he wishes you’d look at him during the daytime.

Breaking your gaze, Eren rearranges your legs so that you’re nearly seated on his lap with the way you lean over him against the counter. Eren’s fingertips find their way beneath the hem of your bra, sliding over the seams of your ribcage to trace and then squeeze at the expanse of bare skin there. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, content to rock in his lap and suck on his tongue until the rough pads of his thumbs swipe over your nipples, rendering you just a little more desperate.

“Oh – oh. Eren, please-,” The little silver bells sewn into the collar of his sweater jingle with every rock of your hips, and you can’t help but snicker against his lips once you notice the sound.

“Let me – here, let me take this shit off.” Eren gives you just enough room to swipe the festive sweater over his head, just enough time to toss it somewhere on the floor before he’s on you again. One large hand palms your rear, the other resting against your collarbones, fingers encircling your throat to guide you back into one more heated kiss, prying your mouth open with his teeth and tongue, rolling yours over his.

Your own wandering hands tangle in his hair as it curtains your face, trace the sinewy lines of his back as you silently wonder if he’s always been this strong.

Eren doesn’t let you wonder for long, managing to scoop up you inside the broom closet-sized confines of the spare bathroom and place you on the closed lid of the toilet, skirt fluttering up to the tops of your thighs with a swift motion.

“Wait, woah-,” You’re so caught off guard by the sudden motion, that you nearly miss Eren stooping down to kneel in front of your place on the toilet, large hands bracketing each of your knees. He leans in, a secret smile gracing his features, green eyes bright with mischief under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

“I figured, this is the least I can do after ruining your night, right?” As he speaks, his hands hook around the backs of your knees, helping him make room for a space between them. He takes a second to gauge your reaction, and you belatedly put the pieces together of what he’s asking with a slight shiver. His smile ie earnest, eyes unexpectedly sincere.

You think of putting back on your sweater and going back out there to face Jean. You think of fishing your gift out of whatever unfortunate corner of the room it fell into. Of returning home having achieved little other than embarrassing yourself in front of coworkers and friends.

Your thumb traces Eren’s lower lip, and you realize you’re taking too long to answer. Eren. Line cook Eren. Eren the bane-of-every-night-shift-ever Jeager. After all you’ve said and done, after years of working together, can you come back from something like this?

Eren sits back on his heels and presses a kiss to the soft skin of the inside of your knee. Well, you sigh, stroking a hand through his dark tresses, almost lovingly. The hungry, impish grin you receive when you can only respond with a half-choked “please,” is enough to make your heart stutter in your chest. A win is a win.

Unfortunately for you, there reaches a point where you’re not even sure who’s really winning. Eren eats pussy like he was made for it.

He starts slow, tracing his nose up and down the gusset of your panties like you’re not cramped together in the guest bathroom at your mutual friend’s party. Like he’s got all the time in the world. Gentle touches across the backs of your thighs, the plane of your stomach.

When you start to wiggle with impatience, he bites into the crease between your sex and upper thigh, deep and indulgent enough to make you cry out. He doesn’t care much for your choice in panties – they’re quick to join the rest of the discarded clothes on the floor anyway.

Eren switches your position again, turning you face forward and bent over the toilet so that your hands brace the lid. You fold your arms, pressing your cheek into the bends of your elbows when he encourages you to arch your back further, palm large and warm and sliding down your spine. From where he kneels, he locks one arm around your hips, the other hand bracketing the crease at your asscheek, just at the top of your thigh. You are rendered immobile, vulnerable as he spreads you open to his gaze and laves once between your folds.

“Fuck-!” The exclamation comes out warbled, almost tearful into the crook of your arms. You wiggle your hips in search of more contact, but the touch never comes. Eren’s mouth remains frustratingly out of reach, instead tracing your folds with his thumb. Of course, he doesn’t start right away. Indulges in the way you squirm, half out of impatience, half apprehension.

Complaints earn you a sharp smack! where you’re left wet and wanting. Your knees bow, legs trembling from the shock of the sudden assault on such sensitive nerves.

“Eren,” you bite back a moan. Your antagonist shushes and coos at your anguish, only pausing in his condescension to sink his teeth into the cheek not held in his grasp. The whine that works its way out of you in response is loud enough for him to relent after a moment, playfully admonishing you.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be this fuckin’ noisy?” He mutters, lips ghosting over where you need him most. “So damn uptight and quiet at work until it’s time to chew me out, right? Now look at you.” Embarrassment colors your cheeks at his words, feeling the slick wetness between your thighs you know he must have a plain view of, and you distantly wonder how you allowed this to escalate so quickly.

From your bent position, you think you hear him swallow, mouth working over something that’s decidedly not you until you feel something liquid and warm spatter over your mound. Biting back another moan, you silence the small, nagging part of your brain that seethes at the possibility of him holding this moment over your head in the future. Taking note of the litter of bruises that mark the backs of your thighs, you know the decision you both are making will literally come back to bite you in the ass tomorrow. Tomorrow, when you have to inevitably face him at work again, along with the rest of your coworkers who are no doubt wondering where you’ve been at this point. Eren uses the pads of his thumbs to spread your lips again, brushing a gentle, teasing kiss across your clit and you decide you’ll reconcile with yourself on the matter in the morning.

“Oh fuck, oh god,” you mumble, unable to work up the energy to be irritated when you feel the way he smiles against you.

When Eren finally decides to give in, it comes with a price. His lips seal over the span of your sex, sucking on one fold, then the other before gracing you with a broad stroke across your slit, and you’re a goner.

“Mm-oh! Oh.”

That price is your sanity and your resolve to stay as quiet as possible.

He devours you, seemingly unable to decide between one pace and another as he eagerly works his tongue into your molten core. He’s mean. Deliberate. Worst of all, he seems to be enjoying himself. Starting slow, savoring all of your heat and taste on his tongue. Then fast and relentless, flicking devastating strokes across your clit in a motion that leaves you gripping the lid beneath you. Chest heaving in exertion as you attempt to hold back your cries.

Your legs ache and tremble, knees biting into the cool lip of the toilet lid each time Eren presses you forward in his insistence. Eren dips the tip of his tongue into your slit, nose pressed between your folds with a self-satisfied moan, causing you to jerk and keen in his grasp. Your arms squeak across the porcelain when you jostle a little too far out of grasp. The angle he has you bent at presses you up onto your toes. Eren tightens his grasp around your waist. He presses one long digit into your core and you cry out into your elbows.

“Fuck, just-just a little longer, okay? Just gimme a little more, yeah,” he mumbles, deep, raspy, fucked out, and sounding more like an assurance for himself than you.

The finger inside you and the hand at your thigh disappear momentarily, and you wonder if he’s touching himself. The position he has you in means you’d have to crane your neck backward just to catch a glimpse of his lower half. The thought fuels the searing heat in your veins, as does the slick sound of wet skin and the resounding whimper breathed against your core, confirming your suspicions.

“Eren,” you gasp, whimper, locking up at the sight of his free hand palming at the profuse bulge in his jeans, veins popping in his arms at the effort. “Fuck, wait, fuck-!”

You come hard and fast, blood roaring in your ears, fingers gripping the lid with a white-knuckle grip as you squirm in Eren’s grasp. Coming together and falling apart in an overwhelming wave of pleasure that catches you off guard. Eren is quick to catch on, both hands returning to your hips to lock you in an embrace, face pressed into your sex in earnest. You twitch and writhe in his grasp, unable to escape from his relentless assault on your senses. He talks you through it when he can bear to detach his mouth from you, murmuring praises into the heated skin of your thighs. Bliss crackles up your spine and warms you inside out from head to toe.

“Eren, god, please,” you simper, dizzy with your fading arousal, not even sure what you’re pleading for at this point. To stop? To keep going?

Eren decides for you, pressing one last parting kiss to your mound before getting to his feet. The moments following go about in relative silence. Despite him having been between your legs just seconds ago, you’re quick to feel awkward and aren’t exactly sure what to say. Surprisingly ever the gentleman, Eren helps you rise off the lid and redress and clean on shaky legs. You are slow to stand upright. Unable to meet his eyes as you try to reconstruct your thoughts from mush. He slides your panties back over your hips and trades your ruined sweater for his own.

Eren stops you before you can protest the offer, vehemently against him commuting home at night, in the cold shirtless. “I’ll just take Armin’s jacket,” he reassures you, adjusting the collar of the horrendous Bob Ross fabrication at your neck. The tiny silver bells jingle at his touch, sounding akin to tinkling laughter

Over his shoulder, you take in your appearance in the mirror. You had done your best to right your disheveled makeup and hair, but the bruises on your neck and the obvious wardrobe change were a lost cause. Even if you dipped out of the party now, there was no avoiding being seen. You were going to have some questions to answer in the morning.

Eren catches your contemplative expression and matches one with his own, a little guarded now. Before now, neither of you had been on the best of terms. A history of annoyance and resentment that lasted years brewed between the two of you. But now…

Now as you consider how terrible the night had gone and the embarrassment you’ll face when Jean inevitably picks up that little red bag with his name on it, now as watch Eren wipe leftover slick off the corner of his lip before sucking the offending finger clean, you figure that’s something you can sort out another day.

5 New Messages

hey! I saw what happened w Eren, u alr??

hello??

I got ur present! Txt me when you get home!

hey!!

can we talk?

#eren x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren aot #aot smut #aot fluff #jean kirstein #jean x reader #pepper's!au #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yeager x reader smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #jean kirschtein x reader #ctcgu

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year ago

Text

It's unfortunate that this 1969 mid-century modern home in Chappaqua, New York. wasn't properly cared for. It needs work, so I'm wondering if the $1.9M asking price for this 7bd, 6ba home is really worth it. What do you think?

As soon as you enter the living room area, you can see by the rough shape of the furniture and dirty carpet, that the home hasn't been beautifully maintained.

I wonder what's under the carpet. This can be a glorious sunny room with a view of the pool.

Could be a fabulous tropical oasis.

Looks like the dining area.

Mismatched kitchen needs cabinetry and a new floor.

What is happening here? Missing wall around the door, exposed plumbing, and the side panel of the cabinet is gone. Is this place leaking everywhere?

Are those gas pipes?

Don't know what kind of condition the pool is in, and the glass dome is dirty, but does it leak?

Up the stairs, there's a semi-open loft with a library. I like the floating shelves. The carpet's faded, but it's nice up here.

Large primary bedroom. The floor has been stripped, so it will need a new one.

Carpet in this room is shot.

Small shower room.

Dated thermostat, hole in the wall.

Deck is worn, so it needs some work.

Looks like a little log cabin on the property.

Could use a little landscaping.

8.86 acres.

#mid century modern homes #MCM architecture #fixer uppers #houses #house tours #home tour

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 1 year ago

Note

Can you please make one of Muntant mayhem x reader? I bet you will do a awesome job on it! By the way love your content! <3

Beauty in the Bodega: part 1 (Fluff)

MM!Leonardo x reader

Part 2

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A/N: Thank you so much!😊💕💕 I’ve actually been wanting to write for Mutant Mayhem for some time now, but I just haven’t had any ideas until now💚 Inspired by when Mikey comments on Leo’s crush on April with: “Here he goes again”, and Donnie’s: “Every girl, man”, implying that MM Leo has had quite a few crushes in the past💙😏

Hope you enjoy!💚🐢

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During a grocery run to the nearest bodega, Leonardo sees a girl that makes his heart skip and his insides feel warm.

Warnings: Spelling and Mutant Mayhem cuteness💙

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The sewers beneath New York City were a chaotic blend of echoes as the four brothers moved stealthily through the shadows. With a memorized grocery list in hand, they moved silently and stealthily, just like their father had taught them to, each of them knowing exactly what to get.

Leonardo led the way, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. His younger brothers, Michelangelo, Donatello, and Raphael, followed closely behind, their ninja senses sharp as they navigated the labyrinthine tunnels, until they made it to the familiar ladder that led them to the world of the humans.

As they reached the surface, the brothers climbed the nearby fire escape before sprinting across the roof, until they found themselves on top of the building that housed the small bodega. Leo surveyed the area, ensuring it was safe, before nodding to his brothers. With practiced ease, they slipped in through the ventilation system.

In the vent just above the store, the four turtles found themselves staring down at the mostly empty store. The only human being, the ever absent minded cashier at the cash register, who was busy with a very infuriating crossword, mumbling about a word that was causing them a lot of problems.

With a quick nod from Leonardo, the brothers crawled out of the vent and split up to cover more ground. Donnie took care of the toiletries, while lip syncing to the music playing in the bodega. Raph was busy finding kitchen and cleaning supplies, while Mikey was digging his way through the best junk food. Leo found himself in the snacks aisle, contemplating the various options. He remembered what his father had told him before they went out. Make sure the Doritos were party sized. Party sized Doritos. Remember that Leonardo.

The bell above the entrance to the bodega rang, altering the cashier and the brothers to a new presence in the small store. All four of them knew what that meant - hide. With lightning fast speed Donnie disappeared up into the vent, Raph found a spot among the cleaning supplies, and Mikey hid up above on top of the long lamps. Leo stayed on the ground, hiding behind the shelves, relieved when he realized that the cashier still hadn't noticed them.

Through the shelves, he caught a glimpse of the person who had just entered the bodega, and his heart almost stopped at the sight, making him drop the Doritos bag. Of course he had expected a human, but he had not expected one looking like you did. Your presence, seemingly ordinary yet captivating, drew Leo's gaze. He couldn't help but watch as you moved through the bodega, selecting items with an easy grace.

You came into the store, humming to the music that was playing in your headphones, totally oblivious to the eyes of Leonardo that were watching your every move.

Leo’s brothers, scattered throughout the store, noticed his distraction and exchanged knowing glances. Raphael, spotting Leo's fixation, smirked and made eye contact with Donatello, who joined in the silent communication with a playful grin.

Leo tried to regain his composure, tearing his eyes away from you for a split second, as he moved to a different shelf, before you managed to see him. His heart was beating, not just from the fear of getting caught by a human, but the thought of how close you were to him. But as you moved away to a shelf further away, Leo couldn’t help but follow along, making sure that he was staying hidden.

Leo watched as you gathered your things before walking up to the cash register. You placed your stuff in front of the cashier, waiting as they groggily started scanning your items. Leo and his brothers used this as an opportunity to get the last they needed, before hurrying back into the vent, all while the cashier was focused on your items.

With all of their groceries in bags, they hurried through the vent and up onto the roof, just in time to see you leave out the front door of the bodega with your newly bought groceries, once again humming to the music in your headphones.

“It feels like / Skuba duba dabda dididaj / Skuba duba dabda dididaj / I love you / Another cliche baby”, you sang along, doing a little dance as you walked.

Leo watched you with a smile, his heart skipping a beat at the sight. There was just something about humans, especially the ones like you, that just warmed his heart. Carefree, dancing and singing down the street, without having to worry about who was watching. How he wished he could do something like that, with someone just like you.

Raphael couldn't resist a teasing comment, hitting Leo’s arm when he saw him staring after you. "Well, well, look who's got heart in his eyes again. Leo, you've got a thing for grocery shopping now?"

Donatello joined in, smirking. "I think I saw a spark between Leo and that cereal box".

Michelangelo laughed. "Maybe it's love at first sight. Or should I say, love at first snack?", he said and pulled out a pack of oreos from his bag, causing both Donnie and Raph to hold their stomach in laughter.

Leo tried to brush off their comments, a faint blush visible under his mask. "It's nothing. Let's just go home".

“Booooooring”, Donnie groaned out loud, as he followed Leonardo’s lead back to the sewers. But his brothers weren't about to let him off the hook that easily.

As they made their way back home through the sewers, Leo’s brothers continued to tease him, comparing you to all the other girls that have caught his attention over the yes. Was it really so bad that he dreamed of getting a girlfriend one day? All human teenagers his age did the same, so was it wrong of him just because he was a turtle.

As they were about to round the corner before the entrance to their home, Leo stopped in realization. He had forgotten the Doritos.

“Oh shit”, he mumbled, before giving his bags to his brothers.

“Yo, what’s happening, man?”, Raph asked in confusion.

“I forgot the Doritos”, Leo said in a hurry. “Tell dad I’ll be back in a minute! I’ll hurry!” And with those words Leo was down the sewer before any of his brothers could protest.

Leo made it to the ladder and pushed the sewer cover off, only to stop dead in his tracks. Right in front of him on the alley floor was a perfect party sized Doritos bag, with a note taped to it.

Leo’s first thought was that he should run. The fear that a human had caught him burning in his throat. But he didn’t run. Instead he looked around to make sure he was alone, before he reached out and grabbed the bag, bringing it down to the sewer. Once at the foot of the ladder, Leo took a look at the note taped to the bag. It was hard to read with his shaking hands, but he managed.

“Hey stranger! I think you dropped this at the bodega, so I thought I would bring it to you. (Y/N) <3. P.S. You and your friends are quite noisy once you get up on the roof;)”.

Leo felt like fainting. A human had brought him the Doritos that his dad had asked him for. Not just any human, but you. The pretty human from the bodega.

Heat creepy up his cheeks, as he took the note and hid it in a pocket on his belt. Thinking back on Raph’s comment, Leo couldn’t help but giggle a little. He might have a thing for grocery shopping now.

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A/N: MM Leonardo with his crushes gives me “Cliche Love Song” by Basim vibes. Also the song used💕

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bovineblogger · 10 months ago

Note

If you want a thoroughly cow-themed restaurant, you should look up Maureen's Kitchen in New York. It's cows all the way down. Big cow statue outside, cow head on the front of the building, hundreds of novelty ceramic cows in glass cases all over the restaurant, other cow knick-knacks on shelves on the walls, cow print seats, cow print tablecloths, cow garden gnomes outside, cow print mugs... its truly the cow lover's dream. Not to mention the best damn breakfast you'll ever have. Bucket list restaurant for anyone who is a fan of cows and is willing to actually go to Long Island.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!! this is literally everything..................................cow themed restaurant........

#also im addicted to the way u talk #asks

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marjoch · 12 days ago

Text

YOU’VE GOT MAIL

Jayce and Viktor are instant-messaging anonymously after meeting in an AOL chat room. They're also research competitors in New York City, and have no idea that they're slowly falling in love with their would-be business rival.

Inspired by the 1998 film You've Got Mail.

early updates @ josmarch on ao3

CHAPTER ONE

Viktor had always loved New York. Growing up in Brooklyn it was just him and his mother, who had immigrated from the Czechia in search of business opportunity. She had owned a small shop selling quirky inventions, a place she called The Shop Around The Corner due to its proximity the apartment she spent the rest of her life in. She’d been building things all her life, but the business kicked off when he was in elementary school, and she focused on expanding access to mobility. When he wasn’t in school, Viktor found himself following the same path. Drawn to science and mathematics, Viktor worked alongside his mother until she passed away and left him the storefront.

These days he worked with Sky Young, a woman who helped show walk-in customers around the crowded shop. She was curious about inventing, but Viktor had yet to convince her to open up and try something on her own. For now, she was good at watching the merchandise while he worked on more important things in the office.

Viktor’s mother died five years ago in 1993, but her creations still littered the shelves of the store. In fact, it was almost certain that they outnumbered his own. To be fair, Viktor’s projects were often lengthy and risked failure, while his mother did work on the side for commission or personal interest. His current project was an expansion of her thoughts on enabling someone suffering from paralysis to have full autonomy. It was intricate: neuroscience, engineering, and anatomy rolled into one. It was costly and timely, taking him upwards of a season. He’d started in August, and the clocked still ticked onwards a week out from the holidays.

The shop was funded by scientific and engineering grants that Viktor spent long hours applying for. He was noticing that he had to put in more effort recently: a couple times now, he had been expecting for something to pull through, and they had gone in a different direction. Even one of his regular investors was supporting something newer, and it was beginning to stress him out. He had a nagging feeling that the newly-constructed research facility just blocks down the street had something to do with it. The newspaper headlines said something about an achievement related to transportation, but he hadn’t gotten the chance to read about it yet.

When he wasn’t at the storefront, Viktor was in the apartment down the street that he shared with his cat Rain. She was a black cat, practically nonverbal unless she was convincing him to feed her. Her hobbies consisted of napping, staring, and sitting in Viktor’s lap, which made her a very easy roommate.

The apartment was a two-bedroom unit with a small bathroom and a fire escape. He’d lived here with his mother, and he’d moved things around since it became his alone, apart from her bedroom. It was frozen in time, the same as the day she left, with the addition of a few boxes of her personal belongings from elsewhere in the house. He couldn’t bring himself to touch it, and he was too busy these days anyway.

The morning of December 18th, Viktor woke up early. He spent an hour working his thoughts out in a notebook before ever leaving the bed, and Rain showed up expectantly when he entered the kitchen to make coffee. He fed her and let her have her space to eat, heading to the computer in the living room and starting it up. In its own time, it displayed the AOL instant messaging login screen. He input the correct information (username Tinkerman) and the startup informed him “you’ve got mail”, a sound that should not have made his stomach flutter like it did. He ignored the feeling, clicking on the chat he’d been anticipating a response from.

NY1972 was a man from the Upper West Side. That’s about all the personal details Viktor knew about him, except that he lived with his long-term girlfriend, and he worked in technology. Opening the chat they communicated through, Viktor read the latest message:

Today’s rainy in this area of town. I find that I don’t mind the weather, it feels nostalgic as it reminds me of growing up in Seattle. I heard we’re due for a wet winter, so I should invest in a new raincoat. Work these days is repetitive, there are so many companies willing to fund technological advances but even more hoping applicants. I can only hope my proposal is good enough to convince them. How are you this morning? I imagine you’re reading this as you drink your morning coffee, preparing for what awaits. NY1972

Viktor looked down at his coffee mug, feeling a bit seen-through. He shrugged a little, took a sip, and got to writing back:

The weather’s not so bad here. It looks like rain, but I’m not convinced today is the day. It’s fascinating that you are also working to acquire funding for your projects. May I ask what your passion is? If it’s too personal, I understand. I’m interested in hearing about anything, from your current favorite book to the inner workings of your daily routine. My morning started with research, and will likely end the same way. How is your day? Have you been to Seattle recently? Tinkerman

He sat there after pressing send, and stood up from the desk. NY1972’s message had come in earlier in the morning, so it could be before the evening that he received a response. He was getting dressed for work when he heard the notification of a message coming through AIM chat. He nearly stumbled making his way back to the computer, expectantly looking for an update.

My family is still in Seattle, I sometimes visit for the holidays. My father also works in technology, but his company is based on the West Coast. I think he holds a grudge against me for moving this far away. I’m still learning to appreciate New York, but making connections within the community has helped. I’m working in renewable energy these days. I’m about to leave for work, but I look forward to hearing from you later this evening. NY1972

It was nice to know that this man wanted to speak to him as much as Viktor wanted to hear. He sat in front of the computer, hands lingering over the keys, before words found him.

I have the same busy day ahead of me. I fear my cat will be upset at the lack of my presence, but she’s good at keeping herself entertained. I am curious if you have any pets? Let me know when you do return, and work hard. Tinkerman

Viktor logged out of AIM before he allowed himself to waste time sitting around in hopes of another message. The pair of them had met in a larger chat server, and when they’d moved the conversation to a private window, Viktor noticed how NY1972 was driven by his work. Viktor worked long hours, even occasionally staying at the storefront overnight, and he had noticed that there was sometimes no message awaiting him when he returned. He tried not to allow any disappointment to cloud his judgment, but this internet stranger was captivating his attention. He pulled his jacket on, leaned on his cane as he locked the front door, and started his short walk to the storefront.

Sky was waiting outside, having arrived just before him. “Good morning,” she chirped, dressed in a warm sweater, navy trousers, with her hair pulled back and glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose.

“Morning,” Viktor responded, unlocking the door and pushing it open for her. She entered first, flipping on the lights. The dark shop was instantly illuminated, bright lights shining down on the shelves of metal. Sky pulled the curtains open, letting the natural light in. Viktor headed back towards the register, setting to count the drawer.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Sky noted.

Viktor looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“You never seem this bright,” she clarified. “Did one of the grants pull through?” Hesitation, then: “Seeing anyone new lately?”

He shook his head and went back to counting the bills. As he worked, he answered, “I should ask you that question. I’ve yet to hear you speak of anyone, and you’re an attractive young woman. You’re intelligent. You could have men lined up down the block.”

“I could find someone if I was looking,” Sky said. She was watching him with some expression of longing, but Viktor missed the meaning in her gaze, focused. “So there’s no one? What’s got you acting all different?”

Viktor finished counting and put the cash drawer back in the register, closing it. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he feigned innocence. “I’m the same as I always am.” He straightened up the junk on the counter: sticky notes, a cup of pens, a stack of receipts. Sky didn’t go anywhere, staring as if it would reveal his secrets. It worked, because he sighed. “Alright. If I tell you, you cannot judge me.”

“Why would I judge you?” Sky laughed, leaning on the counter on the opposite side from where he stood. “I’m all ears.”

Viktor flipped through receipts as he spoke. “Last week, I had a night off. I ended up in one of the AOL instant messaging chat rooms.”

Sky laughed again, interrupting. “Oh, really?”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

She put her hands up. He continued on.

“I ended up talking to a man who is also in tech. He understands the work I do, it’s been a refreshing conversation. We’ve been messaging privately since that night.”

“And?” Sky pressed, never taking her eyes off of him. “What’s his name?”

Viktor met her eyes for the first time since he started sharing. Sky didn’t need a response to get the message.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed. “You don’t know his name. You’re talking to a guy on AIM, and you don’t know his name.”

“No, I don’t know his name,” Viktor said, coming around the counter and fixing the flyers on the front windows. Each of them displayed information about upcoming neighborhood events. The most important was two days before Christmas, in which Viktor was hosting an inventor’s fair. His mother started the tradition, and for ten years now, inventors and engineers in Brooklyn would bring their creations to the shop and demonstrate their discoveries. “He has a girlfriend. It’s not a big deal.” He straightened the crooked poster announcing the date and time.

“Interesting,” Sky said. “What are you trying to get out of this?”

“Good conversation at the very least,” Viktor replied, putting the conversation to rest by walking back towards the office. “I’m going to keep working on the project. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Have fun,” was the response from his assistant. The amusement in her voice never faltered, and Viktor almost regretted telling her about his new friend. He lost himself in his equations, sitting at his workbench and carrying on what he’d been working on for months, forgetting about NY1972 as well as he could.

Jayce had always hated New York. The noise was constant, and the stench was even worse. Growing up outside Seattle, he preferred the quiet and clean streets. He missed a lot about the city: his family, his best friend who may as well be his sister, even the weather. While he’d been in New York for two years now, he was still adjusting. Things were starting to look up, as he finally acquired property for the research facility he’d always dreamed of.

Jayce’s routine was easy. He woke up at seven in the morning each day, even the weekends, and either worked out or worked on his current project (depending on what the day called for). He lived with his girlfriend, who’d he been dating since just before his cross-country move. Since they became official, Mel had been elected to the state senate, leaving Jayce alone on weeks when she was required to travel for work. He’d kept himself entertained with a multitude of books and his own projects, but he recently found himself in an AOL instant messaging chat room, in which he came across Tinkerman, a captivatingly educated personality who was also in New York.

On December 18th, Mel was out of town. Jayce woke up, worked out, and made breakfast before sending his morning message to Tinkerman. He was buttoning up his shirt when he heard the AIM notification from the living room. Against his better efforts to stay calm, he rushed to finish dressing and hurried back to his computer. He found himself smiling at the response before him. It was nice to know that someone cared enough to ask questions.

After responding, he turned off the computer and took a taxi to Brooklyn. He was living in the Upper West Side in Mel’s spacious apartment, but he’d gotten property in a different borough because it allowed him to get his research up and running.

Just down the street from The Shop Around The Corner, Talis Technologies was two-story building that replaced an old bookstore. The building had been gutted and redesigned to add research laboratories, offices, and a large room solely for a supercomputer and all its related gadgets and gizmos.

Jayce was pouring himself into a project he’d been focused on for the better half of the year. He had a concept for introducing new cross-country transportation ideas, but was just now securing the location and the funding to pick up the pace. He was expecting an investor to show up for a tour this morning, but the appointment time came and went, and he heard nothing. He ended up in his office, flipping through a business magazine that gave him an idea of potential investors to call.

His cell phone rang, then. It was the investor, an hour and a half late. Jayce answered immediately. “Jayce Talis speaking.”

“Hello Mr. Talis,” said the deep voice on the other end of the line. “Apologies for the miscommunication about our appointment this morning. We have already chosen to award this grant to someone else, but we encourage you to apply again in the future.”

Jayce deflated, but kept himself together on the call. “Thank you for letting me know.” Curiosity got the better of him, so he continued, “May I ask who the grant went to?”

“We have been a consistent supporter of The Shop Around The Corner throughout the years, so we’ve chosen to continue maintaining that partnership. They have an inventor’s fair coming up, perhaps it would be to your advantage to network with peers and other potential investors.”

Now he wasn’t disappointed, he was annoyed. He hadn’t been to The Shop Around The Corner yet, but he was under the impression it was less of a scientific facility and more of a knick-knack store. It felt like the investor only chose The Shop because of their history, and not due to any possible successes, but he couldn’t let that show in his tone. “I appreciate having the opportunity to apply, and hope you have an excellent rest of your day.”

“Take care, Mr. Talis.” The investor hung up.

Jayce sat at his desk for a minute, then stood and made his way outside. He had to get some fresh air. He’d been expecting this grant to work out, and it was taken from under him.

Since he’d never been to The Shop Around The Corner, he figured he would see what all the fuss was about. He knew exactly where it was, having passed it in the taxi many times before. Three blocks west. When he arrived, he peered inside, curious for a glimpse.

A woman was entering the shop holding hands with a young boy, and she held the door for him. Jayce refused her gesture and held the door for her, then thanked her anyway. He followed her inside, looking around for a better idea of what was going on. So many unintelligible things on shelves of various heights. Despite the critiques coming to mind, he could imagine his teenage bedroom, full of the same seemingly-nonsense useful tools.

The woman seemed to have a good idea of how to go about shopping here, because she headed directly to the counter. Another woman sat behind it, and she struck up conversation with the customer. Jayce was eavesdropping until he saw a man walk out of a door behind the desk. He was older than the woman helping at the counter, about Jayce’s age. The pair of them locked eyes, and the man stopped.

“Can I help you?” said the man to Jayce. He seemed so genuine about the inquiry, Jayce almost felt bad for intruding in his space. Before the silence grew too lengthy, Jayce thought of something to say.

“Yeah,” he finally spoke. “I’m new in the area. I’m stopping by all of the shops and stores and checking things out, trying to get familiar with my surroundings.”

The man’s face softened. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” he said. “I’m Viktor. I run this shop with Miss Young.” He gestured to the woman behind the counter, who was still assisting the customer.

“I’m Jayce,” he introduced in response. “I’m just a few blocks from here.”

“You should come by more often,” Viktor nodded. “We have an inventor’s fair coming up, it’s open to the public. It’d be a great time to meet your neighbors.”

So it wasn’t just knick-knacks, it was outreach. Jayce could understand how someone with deep roots in the community beat him out for a grant, he just couldn’t let it happen again.

“If I’m free, I’ll try to stop by,” was he response he offered. He stepped back, then. “I’ve got to get going, but thank you.”

Viktor said nothing, watching this Jayce leave with intrigue.

“Thank you for what?” said Sky when he was finally gone. She’d finished with the customer, who was now poking around the shelves with her son.

“I’m not quite sure,” Viktor answered, picking up the receipt from the latest sale and stacking it on top of the others. The growing pile was bound to fall over soon.

“Do you think he’ll show up?”

“Probably not,” Viktor shrugged. He looked around the store. Noticing it was empty, he put forth a proposition. “I can watch the store if you want to go get us lunch. Whatever you want.”

“I got you,” she said, popping the cash drawer open and taking a twenty. “Be back soon.”

The bell on the door rang as Sky exited. Viktor basked in the silence, intending to rest his wandering mind for a few moments, but instead finding himself wondering if there was a message waiting for him when he finally got home later.

Three blocks to the east, Jayce was doing the very same thing.

#jayvik #jayce x viktor #jayce talis #viktor arcane #you’ve got mail #au #arcane

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