#forty quinn x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theharddeck · 10 months ago

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do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone.

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit.

But.

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app.

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do.

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play.

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones.

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena.

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you.

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy.

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer.

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter.

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering.

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip.

Why did guys in real life never moan?

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure.

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low.

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only.

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you.

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste?

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy, acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin.

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.”

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his.

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?”

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper.

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you.

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper.

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him.

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?”

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds.

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you.

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly.

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl.

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy.

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?”

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against.

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded.

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C��mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.”

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect.

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there.

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow.

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to.

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear.

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set.

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you.

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door.

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time.

Some might even say, with a pep in your step.

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed.

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat.

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly.

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on.

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing).

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person.

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets.

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration.

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze.

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too.

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise.

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips.

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago.

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.”

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock.

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms.

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it).

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal.

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before??

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot.

A knock on your door startled you.

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically.

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door.

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused.

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it.

He looked the same.

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you.

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills.

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them.

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral.

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away.

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse.

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room.

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced.

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t.

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room.

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again.

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it.

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep.

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react.

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation.

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again.

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you.

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly.

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him.

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob.

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway.

Of course he did.

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately.

Objectively, Bob was the best.

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you.

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you.

He pushed himself off the bed.

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either.

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay.

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it.

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question.

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break.

You kissed him.

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer.

He was so soft.

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him.

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention.

“Can I show you?” you asked.

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry.

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely.

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous.

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him.

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard.

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on.

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze.

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently.

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you.

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually.

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked.

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob.

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered.

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them.

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett.

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard.

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him.

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need.

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch.

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission.

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations.

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing.

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing.

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it.

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric.

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob.

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again.

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob.

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering.

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob.

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking.

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did.

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled.

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him.

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.”

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him.

It was better with him.

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing.

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good.

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there.

You felt like you were floating.

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him.

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he?

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life.

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right.

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips.

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you.

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself.

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner.

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin.

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin.

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned.

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.”

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had.

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless.

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered.

He wasn’t done, either.

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…”

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses.

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man.

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace.

You loved the feeling of his skin.

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you.

Fuck.

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders.

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric.

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself.

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him.

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick.

Holy. Shit.

He looked like a work of art.

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl.

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky.

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat.

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it.

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact.

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you.

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him.

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them.

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking.

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster.

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much.

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly.

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot.

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you.

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more.

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn.

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect.

Fuck, he felt so good.

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon.

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked.

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything.

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop.

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying.

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core.

He knew, somehow.

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher.

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising.

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…”

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him.

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back.

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop.

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant.

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him.

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips.

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you.

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you.

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips.

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher.

And then.

And then he got close.

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you.

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it.

When you came back, you were on your side.

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction.

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

#bob fucks #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd #misskielwrites #International Bob Floyd Fucks Month

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withwritersblock · 6 months ago

Text

Knowing me, Knowing You

~Knowing me, Knowing You by ABBA~ Author's Note: requeted, sorta. it got angsty some how? Summary: Luke goes to his daughter's youth hockey game Warnings: none Word Count: 1,733 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Luke has always felt guilty for missing his daughter’s hockey games. Zoey was seven and had games almost every weekend. But all of her games overlapped with his. She would FaceTime him before and after the games. She would be red hot and dripping in sweat, her curly hair sprawled all over her features.

She was a center like her Uncle Jack and was the top scorer on her team. There was not an ounce of surprise with that fact as she was a Hughes after all. Y/N always made an effort to record as many videos as possible, so Luke was able to be involved as much as he can. He still felt guilty for not being able to go.

Except today. It was the mini championship for her league that she was apart of and Luke had the week off for All-Star break. This year none of the Hughes boys were a part of the All-Star tournament which meant all three of them would be there to support Zoey.

Zoey and Y/N were both already at the rink, while Luke was trying to drag his brothers out of the house. “The game starts in an hour, with traffic we’ll barely make it on time for the first period!” he shouted as he took a hold of his keys. Quinn groaned out as he walked out of the guest bedroom.

“Well it’s not my fault that Jackaboy needs to take forty minutes on his hair!” Quinn ran his hand across his chin. Jack huffed as he stood up from the couch.

“You could’ve used Luke’s bathroom!” Jack expressed as all three of the boys walked towards the door to leave the house.

The drive to the rink took forty minutes and Luke was freaking out the entire time. He parked the car and instantly hopped out. Quinn and Jack were trailing behind him. Luke promised Zoey that he would be there, and warmups were nearly finished. Zoey had to of thought Luke wasn’t coming.

The three boys walked towards the table, it was a seven dollar entrance fee. Luke pulled up his venmo and venmoed them the twenty-one dollars that was needed to enter. The teenage girl working the table flushed bright red at the sight of the three of them. She nervously added the wristbands to their wrists.

They all took fast steps towards the entrance to the rink. Luke step foot onto the bleachers to see his wife and his parents sitting together a few feet away, “Over here,” he mumbled towards his brothers before he guided his way through the crowded bleacher seats. He sat down beside Y/N, excited rubbing his hands together as stared towards the ice searching for the forty-three on the ice.

“She’s been looking for you,” Y/N mumbled, sadly. He clenched his jaw as he glanced towards his brothers who were sitting beside their dad away from him.

“They took forever to get ready to leave the house, I’m sorry,” he whispered as he leaned towards her, kissing her temple as he ran his hand up and down her back. “How was she before the game?” he asked looking at each of the tiny girls on the ice. His eyes landed on the forty-three skating towards the net, shooting and hitting the glass. Luke watched as her head tilted back as she smacked her stick against the ice.

“She’s having a rough morning,” she crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her little girl look towards the group on the bleachers again. She waved as she saw her dad. Luke smiled widely as he returned the wave. “She’s a little disappointed that you weren’t the one dropping her off,” Y/N let out as she turned her head to the side to meet Luke’s gaze.

Luke took in a sharp breath as he bit his bottom lip. “What do you want me to say, Y/N?”

“Nothing, it’s fine, Luke,”

“Is it?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. She scanned his frustrated features. She clenched his jaw.

“Let’s not do this here,” she mumbled as she shifted her gaze towards the ice. The girls were all skating off the ice to allow the zamboni to clean the ice.

“Seriously, I’m here now,” he muttered defensively.

Y/N huffed, “I’m gonna get a hot chocolate,” she stood up and walked the other direction. Luke watched her walk away clenching his jaw. He took a deep breath as he tilted his head back.

“Everything okay there?” Ellen asked leaning towards Luke. He shifted his gaze towards his mom. He shrugged. He shook his head as he stared towards the zamboni. “What did you do?” she asked. Luke rolled his eyes.

“I’m missing out on a lot,” he said keeping his gaze towards the ice.

“What do you mean?” Ellen asked.

“This is the first game of Zoey’s I’ve seen this year. It seemed like every game she had this year landed on a roadtrip,” Luke explained as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Y/N does her best at recording the games but it’s not the same,”

“What does Zoey think?” Ellen asked. Luke shook his head as he shifted his gaze towards his mom.

“She puts on a tough face but I know my girl,” he took a deep breath, “I know she’s sad that I’m not here that often.”

Ellen pouted as she wrapped her arm around his back. “She’s a tough kid, Lukey, she understands. She looks up to you and your career.”

“I don’t think my wife understands,” he mumbled just as he shifted his gaze to see Y/N walking back towards them. She was carrying three hot chocolates. Luke quickly stood up and met her halfway, taking two from her hands.

“Thank you,” she smiled politely. Luke kept one as he handed his mom the other. Y/N sat down at the same time as Luke. He rested his hand onto her thigh as he looked towards her. She took a deep breath as she met his eye, “That was unfair of me, I’m sorry. I know you’re trying,” He swallowed hard as he leaned towards her, kissing her cheek.

“I’m sorry too. I know I can do more to help, I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing this alone,” he said as he scanned her features. She took a shaky breath as she nodded.

It took another ten minutes before the girls reappeared on the ice. Most of the girls were only seven, but the energy in the small ice rink was electric. It was the league’s championship game afterall. She excitedly tapped her hand against Luke’s leg as Zoey skated to take the center draw.

The game in itself was slow as their little legs could only get them so far. But Luke didn’t take his eyes off the little forty-three for a single second for her first minute on the ice. He watched her skate the puck back into the zone. Her head up, not eyeing the puck like she used to. Y/N reached for Luke’s hand and he excitedly interlocked their fingers.

She shot the puck on the goal and it trickled into the net slowly. It was the fourth shot on net the girls had done. Luke threw his hand in the air as he cheered. He watched her skate away from the net and bow, exactly like he does after he scores. His mouth fell open as he laughed.

“That’s a new one!” Y/N let out as she hugged Luke.

“Atta-girl Hughesy!” their head coach shouted as she took a seat on the bench. Luke smiled to himself, remembering the days when that was his nickname.

“Luke,” Quinn hollered after him. Luke shifted his gaze towards his eldest brother, “She’s gonna be a PWHL star with that wrister,” he smiled widely.

“She wants to play for Ottawa,” he let out with a smirk, “She likes the color red.” The entire row of the Hughes family started laughing.

It took another few minutes before Zoey was back on the ice, the game was now tied. It didn’t take long before the puck was back on her stick, “Come on, baby girl,” Luke let out as he straightened his frame to get a better look. Her teammate was wide open beside the net and she tried to pass the puck. She made the pass and her teammate scored.

“Let’s go!” Luke cheered. “What a pass, Zo,” he let out as he looked towards Y/N. She smiled widely as she met his gaze. He took a shaky breath as the realization of what he’s been missing hit him.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked quickly as she reached her hand over, running her fingers through the ends of his hair.

“I swear we just put her in skates and now-” he trailed off. She pouted as she watched him blink back the sudden emotions.

“I know, my love,” she let out, leaning her head against his shoulder as she shifted her gaze back to the ice. Luke followed in pursuit to see Zoey have the puck all alone in the the offensive zone.

“Shoot it, Hughesy!” her head coach yelled, she listened and shot the puck on the net and scored again. She threw her arms in the air as she watched the puck go in.

“That’s my girl!” Luke let out as he clapped his hands excitedly.

The game ended with a 4-3 win for her tiny team. After the game, still in their gear the girls met them in the lobby of the ice rink. Zoey took the cage off of her head as she stumbled towards Luke. Luke smiled widely as he knealed down, letting her jump into his arms.

Her curly hair was messy as her hair was falling out of the braid Y/N done. “You did so good, Zo,” he let out as he lifted her up in the air, a gigle fell from her lips.

“Did you see me bow?” she asked with a wide smile. He barked out a laugh.

“It was awesome!” he let out as he wiped the stray hairs away from her forehead.

“Just like you,” she mumbled. Luke pouted as he nodded, pulling her head to rest against his shoulder.

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morverenmaybewrites · 2 months ago

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The Pizza Delivery Girl's Survival Guide to Gotham City Update

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Newest chapter

AO3 Link

Summary:

People who lived outside of Gotham City would most often think of it in terms of its heroes and villains. About Batman and Robin, Joker and Harley Quinn.

People who actually live in Gotham City would only think of one thing: surviving.

Who cares about the people in costumes when your house has been bombed for the fifth time, or your wife has been taken hostage just because she worked in a bank?

Or, in your case, when you have to make regular deliveries to places where even Batman feared to tread?

Because let's face it. In a world full of superheroes and costumed villains, the real heroes are the ones who make sure that people get their pizzas in forty-five minutes or less.

Chapter Preview:

You paused on the bridge that hung high above the Burrow, and for the first time in your life, you felt a terror was so great that it made your throat close.

Gotham City had never looked so beautiful. From such a height, the burning neon lights looked like stars.

But above your head, the sky looked pitch black. It made you think of the bodies that would sometimes wash up on Gotham Bay’s shores, black and bloated with rot. It made you think of the shadows of inmates in the asylum, their voices like the skittering of insects, rising and falling as you passed them by.

It made you think of the night Timothy Young died, and you wondered that if, back then, there had been light enough that he saw the shadow of a monster fall over him.

You wondered if he had time to understand what was happening, before he started against the concrete below. And then decided decided that it didn’t matter: you would understand If Francine Langstrom came for you, you would know.

You would understand what was happening to you before you hit the ground.

Your skull splitting open, the pink-grey ropes of your brain scattering on the concrete. And the thousand pictures that follow. Your death turned into a spectacle and a profit.

Just like Tim Young’s.

The thought made you freeze. You were standing in front of one of the many wooden bridges that connected the rooftops of abandoned buildings. The Burrow’s infamous floating night market. Set up by dusk and torn down by dawn, only to rise up again the next night, the floating night market was one of the Burrow’s main attractions. A bustling collection of kiosks made out of cheap plywood and tarpaulin, it was said that you could find anything there, so long as you didn’t ask too many questions: cheap phones, likely stolen from someone off the street, fake licenses, a sample of Bane’s Venom for impatient bodybuilders. It was set high up in the air, amidst the rooftops of many abandoned buildings, connected by a series of rickety wooden bridges.

But now the rooftops were empty. The bridges were falling apart, its wooden planks dangling precariously from their ropes. The empty kiosks had been left to rot in the constant rain. You could even see some of the abandoned merchandise, left behind in people’s haste to pack up: an old, broken phone, children’s toys hanging forlornly on strings, obviously meant to be prizes in a game, now swelling with rainwater. Mold grew on their cotton bodies like new fur.

Timothy Young’s death had transformed the Burrows’ floating night market into a ghost town. The thought made you feel a little lonely, picking through the bones of a dead market, looking to find a monster.

Francine, The voice in your head sounded like Professor Langstrom’s. Her name is Francine Langstrom.

The buzz of static cut through your thoughts as cleanly as a falling blade. And then Jason’s voice was in your ear.

“Last chance to back out of this.”

His voice was rough, even taking into account the poor connection and the voice modulators he used. Maybe he was scared, too. The thought eased you somewhat, to know that you were not alone.

Even through the poor connection, you could hear the strain in his voice. You cast a glance at the direction where he was supposed to be, tried to look for even a hint of him: the faint glow of his helmet, the hulking figure of his silhouette. But you found no sign of him. Still, knowing that he was there made you feel better.

You raised a hand and hoped that he would not see the way your fingers trembled.

And waved.

Read more on AO3

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #red hood #arkham knight #the pizza delivery girl's survival guide to gotham city

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wandasslut3000 · 4 months ago

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Pretty girl

Pairing: Love Quinn x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, public sex, bottom!reader, strap on use, club setting, alcohol consumption, praise, degrading, fingering, marking, nude photography, fluff, teasing, birthday sex.

WC: 1.1k

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Music blaring, lights flashing, your hips sway to the music. Your drink in your hands as you enjoy the light buzz in your body. It's your birthday, your party drunk out of their minds, some of the girls finding themselves a special someone for the night.

That however was not on your mind, the burn in your belly intense as you move to take another sip.

Just as your hand relaxes, your body moving along to the beat of the speakers, you feel two soft hands grab you by the waist, a strong hint of your favorite perfume invading your scenes. "There's my birthday girl, I've been looking all over for you baby."

Love presses herself against you, your hips now flushed together as more sensual music plays, her nails lightly scratching your sides making you shiver at the feeling.

Downing the rest of your drink, you turn to face her, a silly smile on your lips as you move to wrap your arms around her neck, holding your girlfriend close as if she would fade away if you were to let go of her.

"Yeah? You missed me?" she nods.

"I miss you every time we're apart." You peck her lips, "You're so cheesy." You tease.

"Only for you."

Your smile widens, leaning closer towards her, the distance between your lips almost non-existent. "You'd be insane to do it for anyone else."

Love groans, grabbing onto your face and pulling you into a lustful kiss, the taste of alcohol on each others tongues. Giggling, you both pull apart when you hear a Forty yell, "Get a room!"

You look up at Love mischievously, "Maybe we should baby, I think it's time for my birthday present." You tease and smirk draws itself onto her face.

"Whatever my girl wants, she gets." Taking you by the hand, and bringing you towards the back of the club. Love hands a man a hundred dollar bill before we are let into a private room.

"Wow, you took 'get a room' literally huh?" You joke and she winks. Closing the door behind her and pulling you into another kiss.

"Happy birthday." She murmurs against you, her lips moving to trace the side of your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the soft skin there, drawing small whimpers out of you.

"Love, please..."

She smirks, pulling away from you and taking your hand. You just then notice your surroundings, a large bed placed in the back of the room, a small box at the base of it.

Your girlfriend moves behind you, wrapping her arms lightly around your torso and leaning into your ear. "Strip and lay down on the bed for me?"

It was more of a question than a demand, a kiss placed right behind the shell of your ear as a way to underline her statement. A shiver trailing down your spine as you nod.

Wordlessly, you do as she says. Freeing yourself from her grasp and your clothing before spreading yourself across the bed, inviting the brunette to have her way with you.

"You look so pretty like that."

You bit your lip and whine, clenching your thighs together at her husky tone, watching as she opens the box and smirks at the contents.

A large flesh colored strap-on matching her fair skin. Part of you wonders how she even brought it here as your eyes stay glued to the item, she fastens the harness onto herself, the cock veiny and free, ready to be inside you.

Crawling up the mattress, Love drags a finger up your body. Starting from your stomach, moving to trace the swell of your breast, past your collarbone and finally up to your lips, slipping the digit inside.

"Pretty girl." A dark twinkle flashes in her eyes as she watches you, batting your eyelashes at her as you swirl your tongue around her. "All mine."

You nod, another finger going past your lips, "Ah... come on baby, there we go." She smiles lazily as you gag around her, tears welling up in your eyes as her hand moves in a faster pace, her other hand moving to wrap around your neck, making you roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Yeah... get'em all nice and wet."

Finally pulling them out of your mouth, your saliva coating her digits, she brings them down to your pussy, teasing your throbbing clit.

Love circles your bundle of nerves, your hips twitching against her, Your bottom lip between your teeth as you try not to moan, you clench your eyes shut in anticipation.

"Nuh uh, none of that, I want everyone to hear how good you take my cock." Her thumb drags your lip down before you kiss the pad of it, making her smile.

You feel her replace her fingers with the strap, your wetness helping you grind onto the toy.

Soon the cock shift's into your entrance, thrusting into you, your legs wrapping around her back as her hips buck into yours.

"Yes, uuh, yess- fuck! Oh baby, mmphf-! Right there." You gasp out, your hands tangling in her hair.

Love trails her kisses down your neck once more and latching onto your nipple, your squelching pussy sucking in the strap with little to no resistance at all.

"Go on babygirl, make some more of those pretty.."

One deep thrust.

"Noises.."

Another.

"For... me.." More harsh and deep thrusts stretching you out.

"Please!" You practically sob, your body spasming in pleasure. You don't even know what your begging for at this point, the wetness in between your thighs pulsing.

"Imagine how confused your friends must be 'cause we left so soon." She taunts.

"All because my dirty girl wanted me to fuck her dumb."

"Oh my god!" You gasp, throwing your head back as your eyes roll in a pleasure. Her thumb landing on your clit and playing with the bundle of nerves. Your orgasm rushing through you.

"Yeah? You like me fucking you like this?" She sounds breathless, also chasing her climax.

"Fuckk..." your legs tremble as you scream, mind slowly coming back down from your high. Hearing her moans of pleasure in your ear as she does the same.

Fluttering your eyes open you find your girlfriend's phone out, flashes coming from the camera as she takes a few pictures of you, and your marked and sticky body.

Your cheeks reddening when she pulls out, grabbing a shot of your sopping cunt.

"You're so gorgeous." Love stares down at you in awe. Putting her phone back away she moves to kiss you.

"My pretty girl"

#lovequinnxfemreader #victoria pedretti #sapphic #you season 3 #wlw ns/fw #love quinn x reader #love quinn #y/n fics #love quinn smut

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 2 years ago

Text

(3) TENDER LIKE A BRUISE ─── ethan landry 𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “Let me hold your tenderness for a moment, Forgetting all pains that the tenderness has caused….” — Luffina Lourduraj

pairing. spiderman!ethan landry x reader

warnings. heavy swearing, mention of blood+death, alcohol

summary. ethan calls during a patrol, frantic, and you have no choice but to find and save him. (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n. another bit of the spiderman!ethan landry universe. i'm being pretty carefree about the timeline atm, so basically you and ethan have been fake-dating for a few months already. also, do tell if the relationship progression is too fast or too slow!

iii.

Your fake-dating label has stuck, following you everywhere.

From having an awkward dinner with Ethan’s parents (which would have been one with his entire family, but Quinn could not keep a straight face and had to leave), having double-dates with Annika and Mindy, Ethan having to ward off weirdos hitting on you at parties (which, was actually rather welcome), and the like.

Sometimes, entirely to keep your cover straight, you and Ethan have to engage in some… physical contact. Mostly, it’s hand holding, or wiping something off his cheek, him tucking your hair back behind your ear, fixing his shirt collar, him tying your shoes — all the little intimate things that make your fake relationship seem so much more real.

It’s kind of sweet, actually, how in-tune you guys are becoming with each other. Like, Ethan knows how you like your coffee, and you know what shirts he likes to keep at your place more than the others. You can trust the boy to pick an amazing place to order food from, and he can trust you to wash his Spidersuit like no-one else. (Seriously, he is shocked at how you can clean it in forty minutes and he can spend four hours in his sink without doing much at all.)

However, once, you and Ethan had to kiss. Well, “kiss”. It was drunk couple stuff, trying to fly under everyone's radar.

Your friends were beginning to think it was a little odd you had never done anything while drunk together, because everyone did. Sure, you two could be very private considering PDA, but everyone saw how sweet you were in front of others, so it was getting suspicious.

To void these pesky suspicions, during a low-key drunk night between friends at Chad and Ethans place, you downed a full shot of gin, let it burn in your throat, and pulled yourself onto the equally drunk Ethan.

You had climbed atop his lap, his fatigued head thrown back against the leather couch. Your hands graced the sides of his face, and through your alcohol stained lips you whispered close in Ethan’s ear.

“I’m going to kiss you, Ethan. Fake, though,” You said simply, your mind addled with that familiar alcohol fog.

You waited for his familiar hum of acknowledgment, the one he voiced when he was brushing his teeth, or drinking something, all his little sounds you’d grown to know.

When he did, you leaned your head at just the right angle that to everyone, it looked like you were going to town on Ethan, when in reality you were pecking the side of his lip.

Your hands had carded through Ethan’s soft, curly locks, tugging slightly and repositioning yourself on his lap, his own hands settling nervously on your waist. You moved onto hovering around his neck, sending shivers down his spine with your hot breath on his skin.

Ethan could taste the citrus stains you left on the side of his mouth, and he was beginning to feel feverish. His entire body was incredibly warm, either from the alcohol, or how close you were to him now.

He gulped, watching you on his lap, pretending to do everything he had exactly zero experience in. You - this, made him so incredibly nervous, he was losing his mind over your touch.

And as soon as it started, it was over, and you pulled yourself off the flustered boy. Chad whistled at the intensity of the action, a “proud dad” moment of sorts.

Ignoring it, your hands itched towards another shot of alcohol. Through the corner of your eye, you saw Ethan, breathing heavily, eyes coursing over you.

His gaze, low and deep, made your heart skip a tender beat, beginning to thump louder in your ears—

You downed another shot, and let it wash those thoughts away. Perhaps it is denial, or perhaps you don’t want to lose him.

(Somewhere deep in you, you’re terrified of losing him. Literally and figuratively, you could lose Ethan in so many ways it's beginning to hurt.

One of those ways comes far too soon for your comfort.)

It’s Halloween.

You’re stuck in someone's house, and a drunk girl you don’t know the name of is regaling you on her outfit choices for the night.

Quinn and Mindy are fighting over who's the better superhero, Spiderman or Iron-Man (and when Quinn heatedly declares Spiderman is some friendless, familyless freak, you snort), Tara and Chad are… doing whatever their newly blossomed situationship requires to make even more tense, and Annika is passed out on Mindy’s shoulder.

Ethan is on patrol tonight, after he left you alone in the middle of the party. Apparently, it had something to do with candy and costumes making criminals more “devious” (whatever that meant).

Sometimes, you really wish trick-or-treating wasn’t just for kids.

You slip away from the drunk girl, whose friend group has since found her, and sneak into the very same bathroom Ethan had jumped out of earlier. In the mirror, you finnicked with the costume you were wearing.

“I couldn’t exactly find anything similar, so I made it myself.” Ethan had said a few hours ago, holding up the costume. It was an odd black-and-white version of his Spidersuit, with a white hood and pink underarms.

“It’s made of a mix of spandex and a flexible carbon-fiber I stole from the evidence locker at the NYPD - the same stuff as my suit. And, I know, not morally great, but whatever, I’ll make up for it by catching the criminals who owned that stuff.” Ethan continued, stretching the fabric.

You raised a brow, taking the slim piece of fabric off his hands. “And why exactly do I have to be some Spiderman dupe tonight?”

Ethan scratched his cheek, gaze veering from yours. “If I’m wearing this, you’ve gotta wear that. To keep the cover, obviously.”

You two were sitting on your bed, Ethan already decked out in his own well made Spiderman “costume”. Everyone else was dressed, too, just waiting for you to finish.

“So,” You leaned in closer to Ethan, “this is just a matching couple costume… for the cover.”

Ethan nodded rapidly, still avoiding your eyes.

You surveyed him for a moment: his brown eyes were coursing across the whole room, on anything except you, lips bitten between his teeth, hair askew, slight blush blazing across his face.

Something about that look of his just got to you, and the sound of the blood rushing to your face was positively deafening.

You pulled back, trying to ease your stuttering heart. “Isn’t this a bad idea? Wearing the suit and all, aren’t you scared of someone finding out?”

“I think it’s ironic.” Ethan said under his breath, a small smile gracing his face. “And it’s the opposite. If I pretend to be some superfan, people won’t think I’m him.”

You puffed up your cheeks, blowing the air out. “Okay, fine. I’ll wear your couples costume. Just don’t, and I mean it, Ethan, do not leave me alone at the party to go on patrol.”

“[Name]. You know I can’t promise you anything, I mean, what if there's a dog or something getting stolen out of an apartment—“

Without thinking, you stopped his rambling by pulling him close to you, hands gripping lightly at his arms. The two of you held still for a moment, staring deep into eachothers eyes.

You would have been ready to say anything, but the heartfelt words you had thought of, the feelings you knew were burning in your heart, about to burst at any moment, died in the sudden hesitance you felt from Ethan.

Unknowingly, your face contorted into one of hurt. “I know. I know, I’m sorry, I - I know that's selfish of me to ask, I just…” You let go of him, “there will never be enough time in the world for you to be both Ethan and Spiderman. Which one - which life, relationships - do you value more?” you turned away, whispering under your breath.

And if Ethan had heard you, he didn’t say anything. Tension settled in the room, with a terribly miserable air of regret.

Suddenly, Mindy had called out from the living room that you’d all be late to the party if you didn’t hurry up. Ethan exited your room quietly, and you didn’t see him look back at your door with so much guilt it was choking him.

Remembering that bitter start to the night, you sighed, patting down your spandex suit.

Then, someone on the other side of the bathroom door started banging it, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying under the blaring music reverberating throughout the entire house.

“Wait a minute!” You shouted, straining your throat. You began to continue in the loud tone, but the familiar buzz of your phone interrupted you.

Quickly, you fished out the device from a sleek thigh pocket you were thoroughly impressed with Ethan for designing, and clicked it on.

“Speak of the devil,” You mumbled to yourself, seeing the ever-present contact name of ETHAN LANDRY buzzing atop your phone screen.

You answered, pressed the phone to your ear. However, before you could get a word out, Ethan began frantically shouting into the phone.

“[Name]! Goddam—it, okay, I need you to - to - I left my backpack at your place, and I can’t do this without—“

“Ethan! Ethan, Eth— slow down, I can’t—“

“Get my bag, please, and don’t find me, just— leave it at Blackmore, near the fountain, I’ll swing by— and— oh, for fuc—“

And then he hung up. Or, more precisely, probably broke his phone swinging away from whatever was causing him to act like that.

You felt your heart drop, finally registering the intensity of Ethan’s voice. The boy was often lighthearted and dorky, extremely endearing in his polite awkwardness, so hearing how alarmed he was now was sending you for a loop.

You shook your head, storing such feelings away for later. You made a mental note of Ethan’s requests: bag at your apartment, leave at Blackmore fountain.

Nervously, you cranked open the window in the bathroom, eyeing the slingers attached to your wrists. You’d found out entirely by accident after sticking to a beer bottle that Ethan hadn’t merely created a fake pair of web slingers for the costume — he’d supplied you with a functional pair of his own.

Ethan had done a full run-down of his suit once, entirely fascinated with the thing. He was so proud of his own creation, rambling about how the web-fluid took ages to perfect, and about the one time his father got in trouble for “forgetting” to keep track of evidence from the NYPD locker.

This identity was entirely Ethan’s own, and he was so incredibly happy with it. You realized then how selfish your comment had been, how it must have stung him so.

You bit your lip, and pushed yourself back on track, slipping on the matching mask the costume had. Surprisingly, the vision in it wasn’t terrible, and it was merely a little foggy.

Then, at the window, you decided you needed to use the web slingers. You knew this could go extremely wrong, seeing as you obviously hadn’t been bit by a radioactive spider, so your agility, physical build, and pain tolerance were at an all time low in comparison to Ethans, but you remembered how frenzied the boy-hero was— and swung out the window. Time was of essence.

You finnicked with the webs, feeling the cool night chill bite your face, and tried desperately to replicate how Ethan so easily thwipped building to building. You just barely made it into an alley a few blocks away from the party-house, and almost hit your head on a lamp post on the way there, so you knew after this incident you’d never even approach the web-slinger cuffs.

You ran the rest of the way to your apartment, climbed up your fire escape, and shimmied the small gap for Ethan in the glass window open with your foot. After a moment of scanning, you nicked Ethan’s characteristic green canvas bag, and braced yourself to swing once more.

Your web made a slippery connection with the building in front of you - Danny’s apartment - and you swore you saw your life flash before your eyes when you almost fell.

After several moments of climbing down the wall with webs, a situation which closely resembled rock climbing with a rope, you broke into another run, heading to Blackmore University.

You would have felt dead tired by now if not for the adrenaline pumping through you, your anxiety for Ethan up to your ears. That, and maybe the amateur web-slinging that almost killed you, were the only things keeping you upright as you ran around New York.

However, as you made quick shortcuts through other alleys, you heard a familiar cry come out from an approaching block.

“Fucking—“ You heard the boy cry out, heaving, alongside the sounds of an intense scuffle.

Without any acknowledgment of doing so, your body pulled itself to the dimly lit backstreet lane, and you found yourself watching Ethan, partially unmasked, fighting a group of several masked people, weapons and duffle bags of money thrown on the ground. In the distance, you could vaguely hear an alarm — perhaps a banks — beeping on and off.

“E—“ You stopped yourself mid sentence, breath catching in your throat, and when one of the men threatened to grab the pistol lying haphazardly to Ethan’s side, you shot a web at the gun, bringing it to you.

Quickly, you slid the offending weapon away, and did as much as you could to help the still-fighting Ethan. From throwing measly punches of your own, tossing weapons away, or pinning the burglars to the wall with webs, you did it all, until it was just you and Ethan, sitting on the cobblestone, breathing heavily.

He slipped his mask fully back on, and turned to say something to you, obviously seeing your own mask on, as well as your use of his web slingers.

But, then replacing the bank's alarm in your ears, several police sirens could be heard making their way down to the backstreet lane you were occupying.

“We have to go. Can you swing?” you said to Ethan between gasping for air.

“I’m out of web fluid. It - it’ll take too long to refill,” he pointed lazily to the long-forgotten backpack.

“I’ll do it, then,” You said, trying not to show your hesitancy. Before Ethan could voice his own surprise and fear, you wrapped an arm (and several webs, as you knew you could not fully support his built body) around him and shot a thick string of webs at the closest tall building.

“You’re—“ Ethan’s eyes were wide open, “doing it wrong! We’ll— fall!”

“Just—“ you swung to the next building, completely unaware of how terrifying your technique was to an expert, “bare with it! I promise not to - kill us!”

“I’m unsure how - trustworthy - your - words are!”

“Stop - distracting me!” You said, making a close call on a parked garbage truck, before making your last swing to the fire escape window at your apartment.

Thank god the bank was not all the way across the world to your apartment, for you didn’t know how long your poor swinging skills and decent luck would last.

You two entered your room, and you immediately ripped off the white hooded mask you were wearing, taking in fresh bouts of air like a fish entering water. You felt extremely relieved that you two had made it back safe, alive — but Ethan clearly felt differently.

He tore his mask off, rapidly turning to face you. “I thought I told you to leave the bag at Blackmore!” Ethan’s finger was pointed accusingly, “I told you not to find me, for fucks sakes, [Name]!”

“Excuse me?” You said, in shock. “If I hadn’t found you — and I was going to Blackmore, I was taking fucking shortcuts, Landry — if I hadn’t found you, alright, you could be dead right now. You said it yourself, you were out of web-fluid!”

“Not then! I would’ve made it out fine!”

“Is this fine to you?” You gestured to his bloodied state, beaten up and bruised. “What? Were you gonna drag your broken bones up my fire escape, ask me to fix you up again?”

Ethan’s eyebrows creased. He had no answer for your words. “Just— I fucking told you not to fucking find me!”

“Jesus christ, Landry, you are fucking stubborn. I did find you, okay, but not on purpose— I fucking stumbled upon you. So don’t get all up on me for something you did.”

“You didn’t have to help either,” he said viciously, “I have escaped worse situations without your help. I have done this for years without you, okay?”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh my god, are you serious right now? I wouldn’t have to help you if you didn’t call me, if you didn’t forget your web fluid, and if you just fucking listened to me and didn’t go on patrol tonight.”

Ethan went silent, digesting your words.

“You know this is your fucking fault, right?”

And as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You wanted to catch the air and stuff it right back down your throat, undo your harshness, realize how increasingly broken Ethan’s tone was.

Realize how he stared at your cuts and limp, realize how guilty he looked as he asked why you went to find him.

Why you put yourself in danger.

Ethan’s mouth opened and closed, unsure of how to tread further, his anger falling off him in waves, revealing the pain he held underneath.

“Fuck, Ethan, I’m sorry, I—“ you started, but stopped when Ethan looked you in the eye.

“You could’ve died,” he whispered, “and you were - you were swinging and fighting armed men, [Name], I—“

“Ethan, I wanted to. I wanted to help you, it was my own goddamn choice. My own stupid choice.”

“No - no, you were right. I should’ve never called you, I have done this all before, in worse moments, all by myself—“

“That does not mean you should, Ethan. Being alone in this kind of danger is not smart.”

“I’d rather be alone than endanger you.”

“Ethan, I’d rather be endangered than have to lose you.”

You stared deep into eachothers eyes, not unlike the way you did at the beginning of the night. Except this time something had changed, perhaps the way you unearthed your hearts to one another now made it so much easier to breathe, to feel, to do.

But there was still hesitation there. Untread territory and past regrets making things - this - so much harder to make real.

You and Ethan wanted to do so much more, to do all the things you pretended to do, but instead, you wrapped your arms around his broad back and hugged him like there was no tomorrow, like you were the last people on earth before a meteor struck. His arms snaked around your waist similarly, longingly, and terribly grievous.

It felt like connecting broken pieces of a heart together, and though you did not kiss, you felt so equally joined to him like you had. The hug was long and intimate, so close you could smell the dull impression of his cheap cologne from earlier, the lonely heat of your bodies joining to warm you both so completely.

You felt so at home in his touch. You could only wish he felt the same.

(And Ethan did. He melted into you, the only thoughts in his mind being that this felt right.

Somewhere, deep in his mind, where he kept his guilt hidden, he felt he was just going to lose another thing he loved. That this love was futile, fading, the loss inevitable.

But today Ethan wanted to be selfish, breathe you in, and be at peace, even for a second.)

a/n2: no kiss, and not quite to the official relationship yet, folks! but we’re getting there, slowly but surely. have these lovely crumbs for now. though, big milestone: the acknowledgment of mutual love!

taglist: @iloveneilperry @backtotheshitshow @hazehepburn @powowowy @ifilwtmfc @oscarisdaddy69 @al1v3cvp1d2 @bloodyeverything @diamondci1ty @l5bryinth @gojosbucket @volturi-girl-imagines @sflame15-blog @thatoneembarrasingmoment @bajadotcom @cerealzzz @elynka @theapulidooo @solaceinwriting-blog1

(strikethrough: wouldn’t allow me to tag!)

#ethan landry x reader #jack champion #ethan landry #spiderman!ethan landry #jack champion x reader #spiderman x reader #scream 6 #scream vi #marvel #spiderman

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auras-moonstone · 8 months ago

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⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ don’t blame me for what you made me do

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.6K

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: gf!ethan landry x gf!fem!carpenter!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: y/n is finally able to get revenge on her sisters when the bailey family reaches out to her to ask her to join the plan.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: implied character death. murder. family issues. bonding over shared issues. fluff.

ᡣ𐭩 author’s note: on sunday it was scream 6’s anniversary and it made me miss that era sm😫 the fandom is so dead, especially the ethan/jack one.

y/n had always felt like an outsider in her own family. her mom’s favorites had always been sam and tara. and y/n went under her radar, the curse of the middle child, they say. and then there were her sisters, who she was also not very close with. despite having only one year difference with tara, the youngest sibling had a better relationship with sam, so y/n was also left alone in the sibling department. she only had her dad, who used to be her entire world until he packed his bags and left her behind. and it was all because of sam carpenter.

revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. and after years of waiting, the opportunity came to y/n. it actually knocked on the door of her new apartment in new york city.

“um, hello? can i help you?” the girl asked confused, seeing three strangers standing before her. one was a man around his forties, then there was a tall boy with curly hair and a red-haired girl with green eyes.

“hi, y/n carpenter, right?” the man said.

“yeah… do i know you?” y/n asked, a tad creeped out.

“no, but you knew my son, richie.”

richie, the man who used to date sam and then try to kill her. the man who tied y/n up and hid her in a closet, telling her she was going to be okay. murdering her was never in richie’s plan, and it still confused the hell out of her.

y/n’s eyes widened. “yes. i’m really sorry about what happened.”

“thank you.” the man gave her a small smile. “my name is wayne bailey, these are my children, quinn and ethan.” his two kids waved at her and she smiled in response. “do you think we could talk for a few minutes? i have something to say that might interest you.”

she reluctantly let them in, and wayne started telling her about what richie told them. how he noticed the tension between her and her sisters, how he could see the resentment in her eyes everytime she looked at sam, how sometimes they became murderous too.

“i don’t know what to tell you… what’s this all about? why are you here?”

“you see, y/n, your sister murdered my son. the light of my life, and i want her to pay. and by what richie told me, i think that’s what you want too.”

that captured her interest. “sam is the reason my dad—the only person i was close with in that damn family—left. so, whatever you have planned, count me in.”

“are you okay?” y/n asked ethan, who looked very deep in thought as they entered the dorms building. they had just came from a meeting at wayne’s house, and ethan had been dead silent the whole way back home.

“i just… aren’t you scared? that things won’t work out and we might end like every other ghostface?” ethan was very expressive when he talked, he talked with his whole body, especially his hands. the maniac hand movement showed y/n that he was very anxious about the whole thing.

during the time she had spent with the baileys, she had reached a conclusion—wayne and quinn were all for revenge, it was clear they were furious with sam. and ethan, although he truly loved his brother and hated sam for what she did, was in on the plan for the mere purpose of pleasing his dad.

richie had been the favorite, and ethan wanted so bad for his father to see him like he once saw his brother that he was willing to sacrifice his life for it. y/n understood that feeling of wanting to belong more than anyone else, which was why she had connected with ethan in a way she never thought would be possible.

they became each other’s comfort, each other’s safe place when things got overwhelming. it really sucked to fake being wary of him, to act like she was trying to keep her distance because—like the rest of the group—she didn’t trust the new members, when it reality she just wanted to wrap her arms around his frame.

“i won’t let anything happen to you. even if i have to take a knife to the heart to make sure you get out of this alive, i’ll do it. i can promise you that.”

ethan shook his head. “but that’s exactly what i’m worried about. something happening to you. the thought of getting out of this without you… fuck, that can’t happen, y/n.”

y/n had seen ethan being vulnerable, he let himself be like that around her, but this was the first time she had seen him cry. it was a sight she never wanted to see again.

she carefully brush his tears away. “okay, then we’ll have each other’s back, okay? please don’t cry, you’re killing me.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just really scared.” he hid his face on the crook of her neck and took deep breaths to stop the tears.

“don’t be sorry. never apologise for feeling, especially to me. it just makes me sad to see your pretty eyes with tears, but i get what you say.”

“i don’t want to go back to the group.” he pouted.

y/n chuckled then checked her smartwatch. “it’s late. chad might wonder where you are.”

ethan groaned. “i don’t care. i’ll tell him i was at study group. can i stay here for a bit?”

“you’re a little obsessed with my presence, landry.” she joked.

“and what if i am?” he said before letting out a nervous laugh.

y/n took him in. his strong arm was settled on the back of the couch, right next to her head. his temple was resting on his closed hand and he was staring intently at her with those killer deep brown eyes. he was so beautiful and she was so weak when it came to him. and fuck if his full lips didn’t look so inviting.

her index finger lifted and it was soon tracing the shape of his lips. they felt as soft as his cute curls. “then we’d be on the same page. because i’m a little obsessed with you.”

ethan’s arm left the back of the couch to end up around the back of y/n’s neck, pulling her close. her shaky hand found its way to his hard chest, right where she could feel the thunderous beats of his heart, which only became more erratic when their lips finally met.

“mmmh, wanted it so bad.” he said between kisses. “we’re not going back to being just friends right? because i can’t handle that.”

“are you out of your mind? no way. you’re mine and i get to kiss you whenever i want. well, whenever i can.”

“yours. fuck, that sounds so good.” he hummed contently. “it’s going to be so hard to hold back from you.”

“but then, when we finally get to release the tension, it’s going to be so good, don’t you think?” she smirked.

“you drive me insane.”

“right back at you, pretty boy. i don’t think you realize how powerful those puppy eyes of yours are.”

ethan’s blood rushed to his cheeks and y/n giggled like a schoolgirl. her chest felt like busting. she was finally happy. truly. the 6 foot two brunet boy lying beneath her was her one source of happiness, and she was not going to let anything take him away from her.

y/n stood in her ghostface costume in front of her sisters. she was practically bouncing on her feet, excited to reveal herself and see the look on the girls’ faces. ethan, who had already shown his face, had the biggest smile. y/n was so adorable he had to close his hands in a fist to fight the temptation of bringing her into his arms.

“ready for the last surprise?.” wayne asked.

“come on, babe.” ethan squeezed her waist and y/n took the mask off. her sisters stepped back in shock, faces tinted with hurt.

“how could you?” tara spat as tears fell from her eyes.

y/n rolled her eyes. “oh, cry me a river.”

“why would you do this? is this all because of him?” sam pointed her head at ethan. “what? you fell in love and he brainwashed you into becoming a killer?”

“do you think i’m stupid? of course not.” she scoffed. “i mean, i did fall in love with him, but that’s besides the point. they came to my door a few days after we moved.” and she told them how she came to work with the baileys. “i waited years, and now… i can finally make you two pay for how shitty you’d always made me feel.”

“what are you talking about? we’re your sisters, y/n.”

y/n glared at tara. “you have some fucking nerve. you’ve always made me feel neglected, until sam left town. we started to bond, but as soon as she was back… you forgot about me. how can you even say you’re my sister?” she yelled in anger. ethan took her hand in comfort. “and you?” she looked at sam. “you’re the reason my dad left, and i swear to god i’m going to show you exactly how badly that hurt.”

“you crazy bitch. you’re insane.” tara screamed at her.

ethan slashed her stomach in fury. “watch your fucking mouth when you talk to my girlfriend!”

“let’s just get over with this. y/n deserves a break.” quinn said.

the carpenters sure put up a fight, y/n was the one who got most of the wounds, but they had managed to succeed. wayne and quinn left to take care of gale and mindy while ethan stay behind taking care of his girlfriend.

“are you feeling alright?”

“don’t worry, eth. they’re bad, but not that bad. i’ll for sure live.” she reassured him. “we made it. i told you we would.”

“you did.” he laughed, and then hugged her tightly. “you scared me so much, though. i really thought i’d lost you when i saw you lying on the ground.”

“i could never leave you.” she brushed her nose against his and whispered against his lips, “i love you. thanks for walking into my life.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry scream #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry fluff #scream fanfic #scream iv #scream 6 #ghostface #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n

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snowvies · 7 months ago

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𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 ❄︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

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hamburgerhelpersotherhand · 8 months ago

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Infatuation P13

Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn

Masterlist

Warnings: post murder, drugging.

Notes: Wait... it cannot be... the final part of Infatuation? Posted? Pinch me, I must be dreaming! This has actually been sitting in my drafts for years. Not kidding. Ever since I finished Part 12, this has been collecting dust. Please enjoy, as I prepare some other goodies...

To put it simply, I’m frozen.

My instincts have me searching the room rapidly, but an emotional pull draws me to Love’s wide-eyed stare. She’s crouched by someone who’s laying limply on the floor. Well, I know they’re not just laying there. With that amount of blood, they’re surely… dead…?

I— I shake my head. No, no. Focus, observe.

The reasonable part of my brain tells me Love had something to do with it, but I can’t help but hold off on the assumption. Love couldn’t. She—

She stands and I feel myself stiffen. As she makes her way toward me, Im drawn to the blood staining her sleeve. I visibly gulp.

“I-It was self defence.” She says, nodding her head as though she were trying to convince herself as much as she were trying to convince me. She‘s making herself small, caving in with partially hunched shoulders and hands that don’t quite fit comfortably by her sides.

My god, she really did it. I could’ve believed the lie if I hadn’t seen the evidence caked on her… or looked at whatever remained of the neck, but I crouch and reach for the corpse’s face anyway.

When I drag her sticky hair out of the way, I feel an odd sense of satisfaction and relief. Now, I don’t have to worry about Candace… but this isn’t really any better. Love— she’s… she just took a life, and with a witness too.

I glance to you and Love drops the locker door behind us. I flinch.

“Does anyone else know you’re here?” I ask Love, feigning a calm demeanour. On the inside, I want to tear her apart— but I need a clear idea of what’s happening. You’re… here too. I can’t risk doing something drastic while you’re still in the room and looking this way.

“No.” She replies dryly before stepping back. “A-actually, yeah. Her phone—“.

“Do you have it?” I ask. When I glance back and up toward Love, she slips it out of her pocket and holds the device loosely toward me.

I take the device and examine Love’s face at the same moment. She seems erratic, so I tell myself that keeping myself together could benefit her as well, I need to be our anchor… lest I wake what’s underneath.

I place the phone in-front of Candace’s face and it unlocks.

“Check the call history.” Love rushes to suggest.

I look at her and squint. “…Why?”

“Someone called her.” Love says, and I’m already rubbing my forehead out of anxious habit. Oh, for fucks sake.

“Who?” I ask, shaken.

Love blinks, her expression shifting angrily. “I don’t know, Will—! I picked it up and I didn’t recognize any of it!”

“W-What did they say?” I stand up, looking at Love for answers. I’m getting frustrated.

She hesitates for a moment, but I can see she’s trying to wrap her head around it. “They said ‘get out of there’.”

I start scrolling through the call history with a shiver. All along the way, I see Forty’s name, and at the very top— the very last call received- I recognize the unnamed number.

I take out your phone, and open it swiftly. Love watches me and leans in curiously. And wouldn’t you know it, that same mysterious number litters your history too.

“This number called? It’s all over Y/N’s phone.”

“Wh-what the fuck does that mean?” Love asks me, stuttering and furrowing her brows like it’ll get her an answer. But then she looks to you.

“What the fuck does it mean? Who is that?-“

“Calm down.” I immediately regret my statement when Love’s face whips to look at me. She grimaces but hesitates to open her mouth. For the first time tonight, I see Love catch herself from what I can only assume is dawning realization that she looks and sounds absolutely ballistic.

“Why is she locked in that cage?” Love whines out about you, and I don’t know how to feel. She’s making me the villain, pointing fingers, but may I remind everyone in the room of who’s covered in fucking blood? You’re trapped in this glass container because I got carried away and made a selfish decision... but she did something worse, wouldn’t you agree? But stating this isn’t going to help anyone, especially our hysterical guest over here.

“I did this for you.” I reply instead, my voice just above a whisper. Love’s face softens into one I’ve seen countless times before. Yet… something in me has changed. I don’t feel warm when I see it anymore.

“We’ll get out of this.” She mutters, wiping at her eyes as though something were actually there. “We just— we just have to clean up a bit, yeah?”

And in an almost comical fashion, we both turn our heads to the cage— but more specifically… toward you.

You sit still in your corner. Your eyes are open and blown wide.

“We need to clean up...” Love mumbles again, this time drifting off as she observes you fondly. I can’t help but stare at her with an astonished look in my eye. She’s insane and it’ll be my unfortunate responsibility to do something about it.

“There’s some flunitrazepam in the desk.” I regrettably say, and a part of me feels terrible over the mere implications that flash through Love’s mind.

“I don’t even want to know why you have that.” She nearly spits, changing her demeanour once again. I have to clench my fists by my sides not to absolutely lose it in such a sensitive and integral moment. Love carefully makes her way to the desk and shuffles through the drawers.

In a minute, Love’s standing in front of the cage’s door, uncapping the water cup I got for you.

“Y/N. Look at me.” Love says. “You see this?” She holds a small grey pellet in between her index and thumb. “Im going to put it in this,” She wiggled the cup lightly, “and you’re going to drink it.”

You shake your head horribly, trying to shrink further into the corner.

“This is the easy way, Y/N. The hard way is going to hurt a lot more.” Love looks to you sympathetically. “Don’t take the hard way, babe.”

Babe… I gulp.

You don’t let up. You’re standing your ground and being stubborn, and I can see Love’s not having it. But you’re — you’re traumatized. I know you are because, hell, even I’m shocked at the scene I’ve stumbled into. We’re discovering something about Love we hadn’t known before… and it’s not easy. It’s never easy. Love takes in a deep shaky breath before facing me.

“Force her.” A shiver runs up my spine, and I hesitate. It’s not like she and I have gone through this before, had a plan, or even discussed the implications of her… hard way… but I think I know what she wants.

As I pull the key out from my pocket and unlock the door, I watch you cower. You’re just scared, but there’s really nothing to be scared of anymore… well, actually… I glance at Love.

“We can’t waste time, come on.” She says.

I step through and observe you for a moment. You try to stand up and I see it in your subtle move to get away that you'd expected to dodge me, but I’m quicker than you thought and you don’t have much room to wander. I hold my arm out and you run into it, allowing me to spin you around and firmly hold your arms to your sides and your back to my chest. My free hand simply grabs your jaw and squeezes.

Love steps into the cage as well, holding the cup in her hand and a face of… disappointment? Or maybe it’s shame, from the way I’m holding you still against your will.

“Y/N, I… I gave you options, okay? You chose this for yourself and we have to go through with it so we can move past it.” Her words are meant to reassure you that things could’ve been better, but I can’t help but feel as though she’s unlawfully justifying drugging you to herself.

As she gets closer, your squirming and panic gets worse. It’s not much to fight off, you never have been difficult to hold down.

Love’s hand takes my place and grips your jaw. You whimper, of course, and it’s such a gentle sound. You must be tired. She holds the cup to your parted lips and begins to tilt it into your open mouth. You sputter for a moment, and then your eyes shut tight.

“She’s not swallowing it.” Love grits and discards the empty cup. She loosens the grip on your jaw and, with her free hand, pushes your chin up to shut your mouth. Come on, Y/N… it shouldn’t be this difficult.

Love gently caresses your cheek and allows her hand to slide downward. I watch over your shoulder as her fingers run across your neck and, with a precise flick to your throat, you whine.

“You have to swallow.” Love states sternly as she tilts your head back some more. “Then it’ll be over.” You whimper again and I bite my cheek.

After another minute of your resistance, you start to move and it finally goes.. all the way… down.

It’s not long before you slump in my hold and I sit you up against a wall to think. What happens now?

I glance to a container of plastic bags. I wrap the body up, bring it out of town. A quick look to the phone in my pocket reminds me. I cover her tracks. But wait… teeth, finger prints, hair. Did Love take Candace’s car? And the messages… We can be compromised before we’ve even left the building.

When I look to Love, she’s nervously pacing back and forth. When she stops in front of me, I realize she’s been talking. “Are you even listening—?!” she panics. “Oh my god, we're so fucked!” Love grabs at her hair and looks around.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and I begin to wonder what our relationship will be like now. This isn’t going to work. My heart starts to race and I begin to heat up. She’s not meant for this. Will she let you go? I think we have to let her go.

I don’t hesitate to grab Love by the collar of her shirt and shove her against the glass cage.

"NO — W-WAIT," she tries to scream. My hands find her throat but before I can squeeze, she shouts.

“I’M PREGNANT!” and I still as my blood runs cold. My eyes run down her body then, quickly.

“You’re…” I hesitate to repeat after her, my terrifying future flashing before my eyes as my hands pull her closer by her shirt. I breathe out as my eyes meet hers again. I witness the… worry? Fear? Somewhere in her swirling sight, I feel exposed to sincerity. She’s telling the truth.

My arms fall limp to my sides, my attention growing dull. As my head swirls with thoughts, she slips out of reach. My eyes follow her movements until they settle on you, slouched, unconscious.

“I know how to fix this,” Love sniffs, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Just — please… take care of the body.”

#joe goldberg #joe goldberg x reader #love quinn x reader #love quinn #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader

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icallhimjoey · 2 years ago

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In 120 Hours

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work as a temp and are offered a very exclusive interview for a very exclusive job. You see, someone needs a personal assistant for a very eventful week, and you happen to be the perfect fit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, implied smut, drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: here we go, the last part! I know it's too long, don't look at me. Leave me alone! (enjoy reading it pls let me know your thougths!)

Wordcount: 5.6K

part one -part two- part three - part four - part five

You stirred awake as you felt someone try to take something from you. Pulling on something.

It was dark still, and your alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but someone was trying to take something from you, and in your sleepy haze, you whined and clutched your arms closer to your chest as you curled in on yourself more.

“Hey,” someone whispered.

“No,” you whined softly as you frowned, gripping tighter, all ten fingers digging deeper as they tried to hold on. You were warm, so comfy, and definitely not ready to be pulled out from your blissful slumber. You'd not had this good of a night's rest in days.

A soft chuckle followed, and then, “Hey,” again. “Can I have that back?”

What time was it? Wait, where were you?

You slowly came around, blinked a squinty eye, recognized the room and then, suddenly…

Joe.

You immediately let go of Joe’s hand, realizing that you’d curled half his arm into your chest as you’d been holding onto it like a stuffed animal, fingers still entwined, and then cupped by your other hand as well.

“Sorry,” you croaked, wincing at how your own body had betrayed you in the night like that. Couldn’t trust anyone these days, not even yourself, so it seemed, because clearly asleep-you didn’t care much about awake-you.

“That’s okay. T’was, um, snug,”

“Oh my God,” you groaned, frowning deeper then, and it earned you another chuckle from the other side of the bed. You looked over to see that the pillow-wall had only sort of held up, but that was probably mostly because you’d used one of Joe’s body parts for your own comfort. They were also, you know, literal pillows. Easy to let arms sneak under, move out of the way, push down into the bed more a little... but it was fine, you reasoned.

Two more days, forty-eight hours, and then you'd be out of here and these could just be embarrassing distant memories then. No reason to panic over any of it now. You could do that later, on your own, when you'd be back holding your own hand in the bed again, like a normal person.

Joe got up and out first, said he'd go for a shower upstairs and casually walked out. Like this wasn't awkward at all.

But all right. No time to fret. Today was premier day, and there would be more furniture delivered, you had that bed to build, and you still had a thank you speech to write... plenty to keep your mind occupied. Thank fuck.

And so the morning passed quite uneventfully. You avoided Joe a little, you let a stylist in, heard Joe lead him upstairs to where his good shit was now stored, and then made your way up to Joe's bedroom where you started on the furniture.

You'd turned into a much sweatier version of yourself when you were called down. Presumably, to see what Joe'd be wearing?

"Come here, have a look. I was thinking definitely black, but, there's other options too,"

Joe's stylist was stood next to a clothing rack that held what looked suspiciously like a couple of... dresses.

"Huh?"

"I'm wearing black as well,"

Joe held out his arms and presented himself, in bright red socks still, but wearing a lovely black suit. An unreasonably expensive one, you were sure. When you looked back at the stylist, he was holding a dress on a hanger up and out to you, looked at the hemline of the skirt, then at your legs, and said, "Yea, this should work."

Confusion.

"I'm getting dressed?"

The dress lowered a little.

"Honey, you've been seen out too many times with you looking like you've never looked in a mirror before. Of course, you're getting dressed. For today, and for tomorrow."

You looked at Joe. He wasn't even paying attention to you, but had turned back towards a mirror and pulled on the collar of his jacket a little.

"Um, okay?"

Your hesitation towards this whole concept made the stylist pause, look at you for another second, and then he pulled out his phone to show you a few pictures of you and Joe out and about; getting out the car together, getting into the car together, walking out of several BFI locations together — even outside pubs together.

"What the fuck?" you took the phone from his hands, zoomed in, and then just, stared for a hot second. You hadn't seen what you and Joe looked like together yet, standing close, eyes looking down streets in the same direction, to locate your car, you thought. If you were to tell someone, that's Joe and his PA, you'd believe them. But if someone would tell you, they hold hands at night, you'd believe them too.

"Worst part of the job," Joe then said and made eye-contact with you in the mirror. "Sorry," he apologised, like this was all his fault, but your mind was already elsewhere.

You inhaled a sharp breath, then looked up at the stylist and cocked your head to the side a little. You knew there was an NDA that prevented you from sharing information, but... sharing pictures? Was that allowed?

"How psycho is it to send these to an ex-boyfriend, do you think?"

Joe burst out in laughter, head thrown back, but the other man in the room leant in a little closer and said, "Very, but, do we care that he thinks you're psycho? Or do we just care that he sees the photographs?"

Oh, you liked him.

And you liked the dress he was holding too. And the shoes he'd lined up. And the selection of purses laid out.

You liked all of it, until he said, "Lose the accessories," when he started laying out jewellery he'd brought along with him. You only had one accessory, and your eyes immediately found it.

"Don't worry about that," Joe started, "I wear my own things all the time," and he showed you both his hands, showing off two silver rings that he never seemed to take off.

The stylist sighed. "Except for the moments I can talk you into losing those chains," and you sensed that this was definitely something they'd talked about — bickered about, before. You wondered for how many other events this guy had dressed Joe.

Joe just shrugged, looked at you and said, "If it's important, it's important, and you keep it on."

And so, you had kept it on.

Because you had shit to prove to yourself, didn't you? You had the very important task at had of not thinking of a pink elephant when someone told you not think of a pink elephant.

Impossible, maybe.

But you didn't have problems. Solutions were your thing, and shit like pride, stubbornness and determination too.

You'd kept the ring on.

And it was a good thing that you did. Because if you hadn't had the ring to fidget with, you probably would've started pulling at the treads of your hemline when a furniture delivery was late, which meant now you were going to be late to Joe's own film premier.

Potential disaster.

"They really should arrive any second," you assured Joe, entirely unsure if you were even close to being right. "It's probably London traffic," which was probably true, but also didn't help, because, "Yes, London traffic that we have to get into," and shit, Joe was right. You'd majorly fucked up again.

Forty-one hours to go.

And forty hours and 40 minutes to go still, when you launched yourselves onto the backseat of the car after giving the delivery men instructions on how to lock up after themselves.

But then forty hours and 20 minutes to go when you got stuck in traffic, and Joe received a phone call, asking where he was and what was taking him so long.

You made apologetic eye-contact as Joe explained with a bouncing, impatient leg, which made the whole backseat shake, that you were on your way. He seemed really nervous and you felt guilt, shame, for making this whole situation worse. Then you saw Joe look past you, out the window on your side of the car. He grabbed your shoulder a second to alert you, then undid his seatbelt and scooted over, closing the distance between you. He said bye to whoever had called him, hung up, undid your seatbelt next, and pointed at a tube station on the other side of the street.

"We're taking the tube,"

"What?"

"Come on, let's go," Joe leant over and opened the door on your side before pushing you out. You stepped out, kind of because you had no other choice, but objected verbally none the less.

"That's the central line, Joe," you hissed. The central line was notoriously crowded. You know, the insane kind of crowded where people had to move their heads out of the way not to get stuck in between the doors, absolutely packed into carriages like sardines.

"Yea," he closed the door behind him and stuck out an arm in front of you before checking to see if it was safe to cross. "Let's go," he then said, and smiled at you before grabbing your hand and dragging you along.

And even though you'd lived in London long enough, had had your fair share of rush hour experience, even on the central line, there was one thing you'd never done before. You'd never stepped to the left on an escalator to follow the walking crowd down into the station. Especially not in a stupidly expensive designer dress and in stupidly expensive designer shoes. You'd also never done it whilst holding a famous actor's hand as he made sure that you made it down safely behind him, but you know, that was something to store away in that little part of your brain where you also slotted waking up with Joe's arm pressed in between your boobs. Shit to unpack later, preferably with wine, whilst taking a bubble bath with a loud sad playlist on.

Like you'd predicted, the westbound platform was packed, and the train that pulled up was already full of people. It was the time of day where if one person got off, only one new person would be able to get on.

But you were running, and when doors opened, you kind of flew past everyone and jumped into the train — rude, definitely, but you had good enough reason to not wait your turn, and Joe was taking the lead. So, fuck all of it, you could be rude.

"Duck, duck, duck," Joe said, holding a protective hand over your head as the doors closed behind you with loud beeps, and once they slammed shut, you realised there were no handles close enough for you to hang onto. Joe was able to reach up a hand, hold onto the railing above him, and then, even though you were pressed in between others and also, up against each other, he offered his arm to you for balance.

Without thinking, you grabbed hold of it with both hands, and you saw Joe grin. You weren't interlacing fingers with each other, but this was definitely reminiscent of how you'd woken up that morning together.

"Shut up," you said softly through gritted teeth, not wanting to pull too much attention from strangers.

"I didn't say anything," Joe said back in the same way, and then you both grinned.

Idiots, the both of you.

You made it, sort of on time. Not really, but, on time enough. Joe still got his picture taken on the red carpet, had girls scream for him, did some selfie-taking and some skin-signing by the barriers and then headed inside to mingle and network before the film started.

This time he also had a not-too-awful looking PA babysitting his phone and cigarettes too, and you realised that being dressed this nicely made people not give you weird looks as you hung around the lobby on your own during the film screening.

Or when you snuck into the Q&A afterwards.

Or when you left the building and slipped back into your car together after the Industry Happy Hour.

"Congratulations," you said to a rosy cheeked, tired-looking Joe. He looked at you and smiled bashfully. The whole thing had gone so well — Joe'd effortlessly made it through the whole evening, and the talk of the night was the award ceremony of the next day. If not The Sutherland Award, then surely, they'd win the audience award for Best Feature Film. You'd heard almost every single person open conversation with Joe by telling him they would win tomorrow, and every time Joe'd given that same shy smile he was giving you right now.

T'was real cute.

"Did you have fun?" you then asked, and earned a chuckle from him.

"Did you?" Joe asked in return.

"I did," you said, meaning it.

"Then I did too."

Back at the house, it was a quick goodbye to the driver who you wouldn't see until the late afternoon of the next day, and then heavy alcohol induced steps that carried the both of you inside.

Joe immediately made his way upstairs, but you couldn't help wanting to quickly check the living room. The sofa had been delivered, as well as other important decorative pieces, and you wanted a peek at everything before bed. Tomorrow you'd try your best to pull it all together.

There were only thirty-one and a half hours left now and if there was one thing you wanted to leave Joe with, it was a nice house that he could actually live in like a normal person.

Getting out of your shoes and dress felt heavenly, and the silence coming from upstairs was nice too. No loud TV tonight.

Just before you were about to tuck in for the night, you sat on the edge of the bed and looked at your ring again.

That stupid ring.

Was it really worth wearing it to prove something to yourself if all it really did was remind you of the past? Of that pink elephant? You took it off, looked at your hand, felt it looked weirdly naked without the ring there, and then slid it back on. Somehow either way, with or without, it didn't look right.

So, what about a trial?

Just for the night?

You could leave it off, and then you'd see what that would feel like in the morning.

You could do that, right?

Um, bestie, you decorated a full house in three days — okay, not entirely, but tomorrow you'd finish it, that was the plan, anyway — of course, you could fucking do that. So you placed the ring on the bedside table, and got into bed properly when suddenly, in the low light of the bedside table lamp, you saw Joe.

Joe was standing in your doorway, two pillows in hand, eyebrows apologetically quirked up in question.

You had built Joe's bed. Had fully made it, sheets and duvet covers and everything. He should be absolutely fine sleeping upstairs in his own room now.

And for a couple of seconds — just a few — the look you shared was nearly too intimate. Too vulnerable. Joe was silently asking if he could come sleep in bed with you again, pillows ready to make-shift another pillow-wall in between the two of you. It was a short moment of openness, no walls in between the two of you, leaving all this space for an honest connection. And maybe the couple of drinks each of you had had helped, because you understood.

"Come on," you caved far too easily, knowing you shouldn't because there was no real excuse, was there?

But, fuck it.

"You sure?" Joe asked, but his feet were already making their way over to the other side of the bed where you slung back the covers for him, ready to slot some strategic pillows into place before turning the light off.

"I totally understand," you started, getting comfortable, but then couldn't help yourself, and said, "I left the TV all unplugged and stuff," and got a huffed laugh from Joe.

In response, Joe slung an arm over the pillow wall, said, "Here, for in between your tits,"

You laughed, slapped his hand, raised a middle finger over the pillows in between the two of you and then, before you could pull it back, Joe grabbed it.

Not in a cute, let's hold hands again, sort of way, but more in a, let me get a closer look, manner.

You couldn't see Joe's face, but you could practically feel his eyes on your fingers, the way he angled them toward the little light that filtered in through the curtains to make sure he'd seen it right. Then, to really make sure that you knew he noticed, he held your finger in between his thumb and index, pressed the spot that held your ring before, and then let go. Despite lying down, you felt dizzy, head sort of spinning, thoughts forming a weird tornado — nothing violent, more floaty than anything else.

After a short silence where you didn't really know if you could even properly breathe, Joe whispered a good night and you heard him turn over. You said it back and turned over too. No more jokes. No hand holding. No alarm set. Just, sleep.

You mentally told your arms to keep to themselves. To not let them sneak over, like Joe's had done the night before. And so like the lonely idiot your were, you clasped your ringless hands together and kept them like that, fingers squeezing, almost in prayer, until you drifted off.

But the morning brought betrayal.

You'd been let down by your own body, what a traitor, as you slowly woke up to light outside the window and you realised immediately that you were on top of Joe.

All snuggled up. Arms slung around waists, legs woven together — the whole deal. Shit you'd be fired for— should be fired for, if you were honest with yourself.

A strong arm behind your back held you in place, and your face moved with the rise and fall of Joe's chest as he breathed deeply and steadily.

You'd drooled all over him, left a wet patch on his T-shirt and although you'd only just woken up, your body was already rigid with panic. No! Oh my God, gross. You wiped a hand at your face, then at Joe's shirt, tried your best to move as little as possible not to wake him. It was no use patting at the saliva-soaked fabric — that was wet and was going to stay wet.

There was also no way Joe was asleep still.

That arm in your back was far too strong, muscles working, quite literally pressing you up against him more.

This man was pretending.

The thought-tornado returned, mind reeling with what it all could mean, but what you knew for sure was that... this was nice. You hadn't set an alarm and were all cosy and warm as it was slowly getting lighter outside. All of this was nice. Real nice.

So, you decided, you could pretend too.

You could pretend you hadn't drooled all over Joe. Your boss, who slept in his guest room with his temp PA, even though he had a perfectly fine, beautiful, gorgeous new bed waiting for him upstairs. You could pretend you hadn't woken up yet. Hadn't felt Joe's arm around your back, legs hooked around yours, his breath softly fanning your face.

You pulled on Joe's T-shirt a little, shifted to lay your head back on a dry piece of his fabric-cladded chest and closed your eyes again. Nuzzled a little. Liked his scent more than you dared to admit, and sighed deeply, relaxing more into him. You felt Joe pull you in more as a response, small noises of contentment escaping his throat and you snoozed. You snoozed with Joe, bodies touching, your ear pressed to his heart, body heat shared and slow breaths in sync.

You could pretend — were very good at pretending, and then, got even better at pretending when you felt Joe trace a finger across your face, feather light touches down your cheek, then across your lips before he pressed a kiss into your hair. Yea. You were good at pretending, but also definitely absolutely fucked.

Twenty-four hours on the clock, and counting.

Where the day before you'd been so good at being normal, you'd avoided a little, occupied yourself with tasks away from Joe, did PA things on different floors from Joe, until spending the night together was all forgotten about... this morning was different.

It was awkward glances, thin smiles and shaky bumps of hands in the kitchen as you made coffee and Joe tried to make toast. Hesitant arms would wait to reach, "You go first," and then, "No, you go," polite smiles, and then small, "Oh sorry," and "Oops, sorry, wait," until you let a stupid noise escape your throat - something you would one hundred per cent lie about if someone were to ever ask you about it. It was an embarrassing sort of whiney laugh-sigh, and it was that little noise that made Joe look at you before grabbing you by the shoulders, forcefully turning you towards the dining room, saying, "Go sit, I'll take care of breakfast."

Stupid.

But welcome, because being near Joe also meant being near your own spit stain on his T-shirt that he hadn't changed out of yet.

"Thanks," you gave a weird smile before making your way into Joe's dining room, sitting down at Joe's new table on one of Joe's new chairs. Looking around, you were so pleased with yourself. The room just needed one large piece of artwork on the back wall, and a floor lamp in the corner, and both of those would be delivered that day.

Your last day.

Over breakfast, you checked Joe's schedule, told Joe he needed to spend most of the morning signing Eddie photos and he twisted his wrist in response. "Got it, boss," he said, speaking into his coffee cup before taking a sip.

Fucking handsome.

Stop that.

"You'll find that you're very much the boss here, not me... do you need help writing an acceptance speech? They told me that if your film wins, you'd have to go and collect it and say a few things,"

Joe frowned, gestured a dismissive hand.

"I'll think of something on the spot, don't worry,"

And you would've objected, but Joe took his last bite, said he was going for a shower and whilst still chewing, stood up and made his way out of the room. But then, when passing you, Joe squeezed your shoulder. Just, casually, in passing, laid his hand on you, squeezed, and then walked out.

With Joe safely out of sight, you shut your eyes as tightly as you could and dropped your head forward.

Fucking hell.

Deep breaths, bitch.

Come on. Get your mind out of the gutter. Keep your hands busy. There was actual work to be done. A dining room to tiny, a kitchen to clean, a shower to be had and then deliveries to be accepted. And that was when your morning became what it was the day before as well — Joe busy in one room, you busy in another. Until you had to let the stylist in, who walked inside, arms full of dust bags with hangers peeping out the tops of them and immediately asked you if you'd seen.

"Seen what?" you closed the door behind him.

"You haven't?"

He made big eyes at you, dumped all he was holding into your arms and took his phone out to show you pictures and videos taken by strangers of you and Joe rushing down tube escalators, then of you and Joe on the actual tube. You were barely visible because of the many other people surrounding you, but Joe's hair was definitely there, and they'd managed to catch your smile perfectly in between the shoulders of strangers. And then there were pictures of Joe on the red carpet that you were in the background of, and if you didn't know any better, you could be mistaken for another actual celebrity.

"Look at those legs," the stylist said, zooming in on your lower half on a pic that showcased the dress he'd leant you perfectly.

"Shut up," you got all shy, pushing into him with your shoulder.

"It's these pictures that made me get my hands on two other beautiful dresses people want you to wear," he nodded at the folded over bags in your hands.

"People want me to wear?" you repeated, gobsmacked. There was no way.

"There's brands that want those legs peeping out from their designs," he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket and taking all he'd handed you back into his own hands.

"If someone had told you five years ago..." you both turned, saw Joe at the top of the stairs looking down at you, grinning wide. "Would you have believed them?"

Without a playful answer ready, you just shook your head, all bewildered. Couldn't actually believe anything that had happened over the past four days, if you were honest.

The stylist made his way upstairs, had another suit for Joe to try on, said he'd call you up when he'd need you, and then you heard him tell Joe that his place started looking real nice.

Excellent.

It was starting to look real nice, you agreed.

Not fully finished yet, but you'd get there today. Could properly show Joe all of it once you'd hung all the wall art, placed all the decorations in the right spots and twisted in all the lightbulbs, and you felt excitement and nerves twist up your stomach. You were all over the place today.

You were all over the place as you tried on new dresses.

Were all over the place as you styled your own hair.

Were all over the place as you called Joe down, because the car was waiting, and you had to leave to beat London traffic.

Were all over the place when Joe smiled at you as he jogged down the stairs, the both of you remembering your mad dash to the red carpet the day before.

Were all over the place as you sat in the backseat in a slutty dress and in slutty heels and passed Joe a piece of gum.

Were all over the place as Joe said he wanted to actually go out with you, hold your hand, do the full red carpet together.

And were all over the place as people asked you what you were wearing, like you mattered, and Joe encouraged you, a slight tug on your hand, to answer people, to smile at them, to show the back of the dress as well as your shoes.

You were only able to start pulling yourself together slightly when the award ceremony started, and you'd been allowed a seat upstairs on one of the balconies. Perfect view of a twitchy, nervous Joe, downstairs near the front.

They won.

Of course, they won. The fucking Sutherland Award as well.

Joe said exactly the right words. Somehow found your eyes all the way up where you sat, and you gave one of those stupid little encouraging nods again that made him huff a laugh into the microphone for everyone to hear before he said thank you again, and received thunderous applause from the full venue.

It was a great night.

A great night.

Your last night, hours counting down.

Your duties would end right after the event was over, that's what you'd been told. You were totally okay to head back over to Joe's, collect your things, say goodbye forever and take public transport home. Technically though, you were on the payroll until 8AM the next morning, so if you really wanted to... you could sleep over at Joe's for one last night, use the excuse of time you owed him still.

You didn't know what to do. What would be smart. But you did know that the evening was a success. And then Joe'd gotten drunk, because, why not? He deserved to, honestly.

It was after midnight when you opened the door of your car and presented Joe with the backseat that he let himself fall onto. You had to help him do up his seatbelt, and once it clicked, Joe's arm was around your neck as he pressed hard lips to the side of your head.

"Okay, Joe," you said, laughing, fighting yourself free from his grip. Joe let go of your easily, let you slide into your own seatbelt before the driver pulled up onto the road, but then, Joe snuck a pinky finger over to nudge against yours, and you linked pinkies, each staring out the window on your own sides of the car. Not talking. Barely even breathing, until you made it back to Joe's.

You found the keys, fumbled a little as you tried to open the door, and then froze completely when you felt Joe's hands take hold of your hips behind you.

You swallowed thickly, said, "We shouldn't," before looking over your shoulder. "I'm technically still working for you," you reasoned, hands now turning the key, the door swinging open in front of you, but neither of you moving.

"But the show's over," Joe softly whined, revealing that he'd been waiting.

Shit.

You knew then, if you'd let him, he would. Drunk or not.

"It is. But the contract runs 'til morning," you stepped inside, out of his hands and turned by the door, ready to close it behind Joe as he followed you in.

"The contract," Joe groaned, sobering up real quick as he stepped forward, turned and sat down on the stairs.

You balanced yourself against the wall as you bent over to take your shoes off. Joe did the same, pulling at laces, dropping shoes to the floor with loud thuds.

"8AM," you said, not even trying to hide that what you meant was, at 8AM there's no more rules and we can do whatever.

"But," Joe sat still, looked at you as you stepped out of your shoes and then stood opposite him, waiting for him to continue. "The festival is done."

Whiney baby Joey reached for a hand, and you gave him one to hold without thinking much.

"Yea but, technically—"

"I don't like these technicalities," Joe winced, pulling you in closer.

"It's very complicated," you smiled softly and let yourself be pulled right up against him, your hips to his knees, your hands in his.

"So complicated," Joe agreed, looked up at you, said, "We'll do an excel sheet on it in the morning," jokingly.

And then he looked at you. Waited for the next move, because if you weren't going to make it, he wouldn't either, and he'd end up alone, upstairs, in his new bed, with the TV on. Extra loud tonight.

You looked down at your hands in Joe's.

They didn't feel so naked anymore.

Looked fine, actually.

"So then... fire me," you then breathed, and caught Joe by surprise.

You carried solutions, damn it. Never problems.

"Fire me,"

"You're fired," Joe said immediately, and reached up a hand to touch your face. "You're so fired," and it only took the smallest of pulls from his fingers that curled around the back of your neck for you to let yourself fall onto him — into him.

Mouths half open, lips pressed together, "You're fired," repeated over and over in heavy breaths that fanned your face as you kissed. Joe's hands, arms, pulled you close as the edges of the steps dug into his back behind him, but he didn't care. He got to kiss you, like he'd been wanting to from day one, right from the fucking start.

"I'll double fire you if we go upstairs right now," Joe's hands found your ass, and you didn't even mind that they had slid underneath the dress, grabbing at your bare flesh.

"Two negatives make a positive," you said, nose bumping against his, eyes still closed as you brushed your lips against his once more.

"Fuck— tripple fire you then— just, get upstairs,"

If someone had told you five years ago, no, five fucking days ago... you'd have probably gone, "All right, Susan," all sarcastic, and all bitter. Because there was no way that your best friend calling you about a temp job was going to end with Joe pushing you up two flights of stairs, into his own bedroom. The one that you'd fully decorated. Organised his wardrobes in. Made the bed of. Now to be messed up by you as well.

“Careful, I’m going to lose my fizz fast. All these bubbles up in my coca cola? They’ll be gone before you know it,”

Joe pushed you onto the bed, towered over you, and said, “I know,” and then smiled a slow smile, the kind that dripped with adoration for even mentioning his stupid little metaphor, before continuing, "But the caffeine of you will do."

You were making out like horny teenagers, mouths and tongues wild and hungry as your hands much more carefully and sensibly got each other out of expensive outfits.

You wouldn't have believed them.

Not for a single second.

You fell asleep in each other's arms after, both hands with fingers interlaced and the TV still turned off. Just the sound of your panting filling the room, until breaths were caught and eventually evened out. The skin on skin contact between the two of you erased all the loneliness that had lingered in between these walls before. It was healing in the most wholesome of ways and it filled the dark corners of the both of you up with light.

You'd have never believed them.

Never.

the end

—

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson

@harringtonfan4 @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s

@thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #fluff #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #in 120 hours #part 5

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garciaasfluffypen · 2 years ago

Text

bright beginnings pt 8.

pairing: single dad!joseph quinn x fem!reader wc: 1.4k warnings: i don’t think there’s any!! let me know if i missed them tho. ALSO this part is still in joe’s pov

part seven • part nine

“so hold on.”

“holding.” joe took a sip of his tea.

“so in the last few months you’ve gained control of a daycare, started divorcing the witch and realized that you’re in love with your employee.”

joe practically choked on his tea. “i’m not- i’m not in love with her.”

“mmhmm…” grace chuckled. “sure joe.”

“don’t look at me like that!” joe playfully hit her on the arm while the kids weren’t looking. “i’ll admit, y/n is beautiful-“

“thats a really pretty name.”

“yes, but-”

“-you literally own the daycare, joe, i don’t think it's gonna matter in the long run.” grace took a sip from her cup. “and you haven’t had a chance to date since julia took over your life so this is basically a fresh start for you.”

joe sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “you do have a very valid point. but-”

“nope. don’t wanna hear it. you’re gonna flirt and your gonna feel good doing it.”

“what if she doesn’t like me back?”

“from what i heard from wes, she’s got her eye on you. joe she invited you out for drinks on girls night. girls don’t do that unless they’re whipped.”

“th-there’s no way she’s whipped for me.”

grace looked at joe over her mug. “joseph. wesley told me everything about girls night. and from context clues, i can tell she’s into you.” a beat. “don’t huff at me! you know i’m right and you’re only thinking this way because julia is a-”

“choose your next words very carefully vandien, there are children around.”

“you know what i want to say and that i will say it as soon as the kids go to bed.”

joe sighed, “do you think she likes me?”

“i don’t even know her but i know she likes you back. wes told me she spent like almost forty minutes talking to you two at the bar the other night, yeah? to be honest joe, most girls don’t do that kinda shiii…uff. that kinda stuff. we tend to stick to our groups and don’t go out of the way for men. you guys kinda suck, no offense.”

“none taken.” joe shrugged. “i just… i dunno, it feels weird i guess? to think anyone would actually like me.”

“well why don’t you take it slow? just try and… dip your toe in the water?” grace raised her eyebrows. “and besides, you don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. don’t force something that could potentially backfire if julia finds out.”

joe was quiet for a moment. “do you think she would use it against me?”

“honestly?” grace was quiet for a moment. “she wants to turn your life upside down. now i’m only hearing all of this second hand since i work with her sister at lamda, but from what i heard she really wants the kids.”

“the kids she subjects to sitting in the same room for hours on end with no enrichment and barely takes care of? the ones who get learning from their father and not their mother?”

grace nodded. “i don’t know what she has against you but…”

“i can’t believe her.” joe set his mug down on the side table. “i actually can’t-”

“daddy?” riley padded over to joe, climbing up into his lap. “daddy sad?”

joe’s heart melted. “a bit sad, yes bubby. your mummy isn’t being very nice to daddy.”

“mummy being mad?”

“you could say that, yes. mummy is trying to get daddy to do things he normally wouldn’t do. so mummy is being a bit mean.”

“dat’s not nice, mummy no be mean.” riley pouted. “mummy need be nice. like you daddy. you nice.” joe rubbed up and down her back. “daddy?”

“yes my princess?”

“thomas and me stay tonight?”

“yes, you get to stay with daddy for seven extra days! maybe longer if mummy decides to be nice.”

“wot about y/n? do we getted to play with her?”

grace had to force herself not to burst out laughing as she covered her mouth with her hands, watching joe’s expression turn from mortified to amused. it did make him chuckle a bit seeing how much they loved y/n, but it honestly could be because they didn’t have a solid female presence in their home lives. julia was not meant to be a mother, but for some reason she forced the idea of being parents on him pretty early into their marriage. it could have been because her own parents were determined to pass on the bloodline, and they fully thought that joe was going to make it big. from what grace had heard, originally he was interested in her sister, lucia, but that fell through pretty quickly when her mother basically shoved him into a relationship with julia.

julia, from the small amount of time that grace had spent in the same room as her, was a major bitch. you couldn’t do anything right for that girl, and it showed. julia refused to talk to grace, even though she and joe were pretty close since she was jealous of their friendship. at least, thats what wesley had told her. if there was anything she wanted in life, it was for julia to take a goddamn hike. she never liked julia, if she were being completely honest. it was definitely so ething that made her feel so bad, especially for joe, but she knew things were goung to be turning around now that the bitch was going down.

shs bad helped joe find some of the best lawyer he could afford, and he was able to help work out the custody plan. it was a shitty one, but it was so worth it. the kids would get roughly two weeks at each parent’s house, and spend more time at joe’s when julia decided iut of the bkue she was going to travel. grace and lucia had their suspicions that julia had a boy on the side, but nothing had been confirmed yet. it could potentially explain why she was traveling so much, but nobody would know for sure until it became facebook official. grace hadn’t blocked her simply for that reason- she needed to know exactly when julia would potentially post this guy she potentially had been seeing so they could take it straight to the lawyer and make the claim that she was prioritizing herself over the kids. lucia already sent over tons of photos of the kids sitting alone in a room with a handful of toys and a tv blasting that horrid steve and maggie show that julia insisted they watch. their case was getting better and better by the second, but she wasn’t sure how much longer it would last.

“is gracie stay too?” riley perked up. “gracie bedtime story?”

“i can totally stay for bedtime tonight. we can do all the silly voices!” grace leaned over to tickle riley’s tummy. “for now though, let’s decide what movie to torture daddy with during dinner time.”

“grace… no screens during dinner.” joe gave grace a pointed look.

“but joe, auntie grace is here. they totally deserve screen time during dinner. when was the last time they got to watch a movie during dinner?”

“the answer is no. they do that too much at julia’s and i want them to actually foxus on their food and not the movie.”

“how about a movie after dinner?” grace smiled sheepishly at joe. “then we can open the guiness you’ve been hiding in the back of your pantry.”

“you’re cheeky.”

“that i am, but you love me.”

“yes, i do.” joe lovingly rolled his eyes as he stood up to go make dinner. “but i also hate you. and you owe me big time.”

“i’ll be your babysitter when you finally get the guts to ask y/n on a date!”

joe definitely did not subtly flip her off as he walked to the kitchen.

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn rpf #bright beginnings universe

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withwritersblock · 6 days ago

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Blowing Smoke

~Blowing Smoke by Gracie Abrams~

Author's Note: requested! italics are flashbacks and how i met your mother is literally my favorite show of all time so when I saw this request nearly passed out. Summary: Quinn and Y/N have a complicated friends with "benefits" situation Warnings: implied smut Word Count: 4,136 Quinn Hughes x fm!reader

She sat down in the bar booth beside Quinn a groan leaving her lips. Kasey and Michael looked towards her suspiciously while Quinn was already watching her sit down. Frankie was off flirting with some girl in the bar, leaving the extra chair empty.

“Hey honey, what’s wrong?” Kasey asked as she slid the small scotch glass towards her. Y/N immediately took a hold of it and chugged it. Quinn’s eyes widened as he watched her drink the whole thing. Michael tried to hide his smirk while he brought his own beer towards his lips.

“I hate my job,” she let out as she fought the burn of the scotch down her throat. “I swear I’m never having kids because of this job,” she slammed the glass down onto the table.

Quinn wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards his body. She rested her head onto his shoulder. Her lips fell into a pout as she met Kasey’s gaze. “What happened today?” Kasey asked.

The pair worked together for the last three years and is the whole reason why they in this booth together. Y/N was new to the area and needed a group of people to be with. Kasey was the only other person less than forty at the elementary school they taught at.

“Three of my students got into a brawl and I got brought into the principal’s office,” she explained as she lifted her head from Quinn’s shoulder. She looked into his eye for a moment.

Quinn cringed as he slide his drink towards her, “Maybe you need this a bit more than me,” he let out as he shifted his gaze towards around the bar. She gladly took a hold of it and chugged the remainder of the drink. She let out a hushed groan as she shook her head. “I’ll go get us another round,” Quinn offered as he stood up from the booth, tapping his hand against the table.

“You’re going to love them, it’s going to be a great group,” Kasey let out as she guided her inside the bar, the bar her and her friends hang at nearly every other night. Kasey began to guide them towards the group of three guys sitting in a booth that they seemed quite comfortable in.

Y/N held back looking towards the guy she hooked up with two weeks ago. Hooked up was a strong word but they had a lengthy make out and a romantic evening on a rooftop. He was looking at her with so much love for someone who was on a first date. She wasn’t looking for anything serious but by the way he was looking at her and kissing her; he was. She told him that she wanted it to be a one time thing and he listened and they haven’t spoken since.

“You okay?” Kasey asked as she spun around. Y/N blinked rapidly as she looked towards the three guys again.

“Those are your friends?” Y/N asked quietly. Kasey nodded, a small grin on her lips.

“Oh god, did you hook up with Frankie? I’m so sorry-he’s-I don’t actually know why we’re friends with him,” Kasey explained while shaking her head.

“What about him?” she asked, her gaze on Quinn. Kasey followed her line of sight and her eyes widened.

“Oh Quinn? Are you a Canucks fan? Of course you are, you’re from Vancouver-he’s harmless,” she ranted.

“No, I mean yes but we sort of-had a night together a few weeks ago. I don’t want to make this awkward, thank you for inviting me-I think I’ll just-”

“No, stay! Come on, there’s so much testosterone over there, I need someone to balance it out! Come on, he won’t make it weird,” she took a hold of Y/N’s arm and dragged her towards the table.

“I’m worried, I’ll make it weird,” she mumbled. Kasey chuckled as she walked towards the booth.

Quinn lifted his gaze and met her eye, he smirked as he squinted his eyes slightly as he brought the beer towards his lips fighting the grin.

“Frankie, get up and get a chair,” Kasey asked, smacking her hand against his upper back.

“What? Why do I ha-” Frankie argued but Kasey smacked her hand against his back again before he stood up and walked away to get a chair. Kasey’s fiance moved and sat beside Quinn, letting the girls sit beside one another.

“Boys this is Y/N, we work together and she is my newly found best friend so you better be nice and behave because I would like her to stick around,” Kasey said waving a finger between Quinn and Frankie, her finger staying pointed towards Frankie a little longer than Quinn.

Y/N smiled softly towards them before she brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. “I’m going to go grab a drink,” she let out as she slipped out of the booth seat.

“I’ll join ya,” Quinn let out as he smiled towards Kasey, almost mockingly.

“Behave,” Kasey whispered loudly.

Y/N walked towards the bar, smiling towards the bartender ordering an espresso martini. Quinn leaned against the bartop, smiling towards her. She pursed her lips forward, keeping her gaze on the bartender, watching him make the drink.

“So have you changed your mind then?” he asked as he leaned his head into his hand. Turning her head, she met his eye fighting a grin forming to her lips.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Kasey when I agreed to hang out with her friends tonight,” she explained as the espresso martini was placed in front of her. Quinn gestured towards the bartender to put it on his tab. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked into his eye.

“It’s my night for the tab,” he mumbled. The bartender placed a beer in front of him.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she brought the drink towards her lips, taking a small sip. “Are you okay with this?” she asked while glancing towards the table. Quinn looked into her eyes, almost searching for something.

“Yeah,” he said quite confidently, almost nervous. “As long as you don’t sleep with Frankie. You’ll be the third friend of Kasey’s to stop hanging out with us because of him,”

“Noted,” she let out laughing as the pair returned to their booth.

“I’m gonna get fired,” she let out as she rested her head into hands.

“They won’t fire you,” Kasey said as she rested her head onto Michael’s shoulder. “We’re in a teacher shortage, you know that,” she teased. Y/N rolled her eyes playful as she turned her gaze towards Quinn and a short blonde talking at the bar. He was flirting, she could tell by the way he was leaning against the bartop.

Her mood was already in the dumps but it was getting worse the more she was watching him flirt with a girl, he probably doesn’t even know the name off. Frankie stood behind the blonde, holding up a thumbs up towards Quinn.

She felt the oxygen in her body dissipate as she continued to watch him talk with the girl. Their drinks were sitting on a tray in front of him but he was not attempting on bringing them over towards them.

Kasey turned around, “Oi Huggy bring me my beer!” she shouted. Quinn shifted his gaze towards the group, he began chuckling before he took the tray cautiously and began walking towards his booth table. The blonde girl huffed before she wandered towards a different corner in the bar.

“What if that was my future wife, Kase, you could’ve just ruined that,” Quinn expressed as he delicately placed the drinks down in front of them. He slammed the tray against his side as he looked into Kasey’s eyes.

“Sure Quinn, the girl with her tongue down Frank’s throat is your future wife. Sit,” she expressed. He spun his head around to see the blonde making out with Frankie against the bartop. Quinn laughed awkwardly as he left the tray on an empty table before he plopped back down beside Y/N. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her towards him.She rested her head onto his shoulder as she took a deep breath.

It was a common routine between herself and Quinn. If she was asked about her feelings towards Quinn three years ago, she would say it was merely attraction, but now she was not so sure. There was a handful of nights over the years that reflected the first night they met. It never went past a sleezy make out with their clothes on. It always ended with them cuddling and falling asleep in each others arms.

She brought her espresso martini towards her lips, taking a tiny sip before she rested her head back onto Quinn’s shoulder. He ran his hand up and down her arm. “You’ll be alright,” he whispered before he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Michael and Kasey shared a glance before they awkwardly brought their beers to their lips. Frankie soon took a hold of the empty chair, spinning it around as he sat down. “Look what I got!” he sang as he showed a napkin with the blonde’s number on it.

He spun it around, “Vanessa,” he sang before he ripped the napkin and let it fall to the floor. “Quinny, she wanted me to give it to but I guess I lost the napkin,” he teased as he smirked before he brought his scotch towards his lips. Quinn rolled his eyes as he pulled his phone from his pocket to see a text from his younger brother Jack. He pulled his arm away from Y/N as he began to reply.

~~~

She was laying on the couch, her feet draped over Kasey’s lap as they were both scrolling through their phones. Michael and Frankie were in front of them attempting to get a new high score on Just Dance. Quinn was pacing back and forth adjusting his collar and running his fingers through his hair repeatedly.

“My hair look okay?” he stopped behind the couch, looking down towards Y/N. She pulled the phone away from her face, looking up towards him, she hummed before she returned her gaze back to her phone. “You wouldn’t lie to me right?” he pressed further.

“Quinn, it looks good,” she let out a chuckle leaving her lips. He nodded before he walked back towards the bathroom.

Despite being the captain of the Canucks, money everywhere at his disposal, but he still lived with his first ever roommate in Vancouver. It was only a few seconds before he stepped out of the bathroom holding two bottles of cologne. “Y/N, which one is better?”

He held both bottles in front of her face, rolling her eyes playfully she leaned up and smelled both bottles. She smiled after she looked at the blue glass bottle, “That one,” she muttered. He smiled as he sprayed a few across his entire body.

“You’re the best, Y/N!” Quinn said while jogging away. Y/N nodded as she raised her eyebrows while trying not to laugh.

“What’s the name of this one?” Michael asked loudly while panting as the song finished. Frankie clapped his hands together while pointing his finger guns towards Michael, “Start it again,” he forced out.

Frankie started the game again, “Your funeral Atkins,” Frankie said completely normal, no sense of being out of breath.

Quinn remerged adjusting his collar, “Her name is Josephine and we met at that coffee place down the street. She has no idea who I am, which is great,”

“Doesn’t sound creepy at all,” Y/N mumbled, getting a laugh from Kasey.

“It’s not because this could be it guys! I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” He let out as he continued walking towards the door. “I’ll be back!” he sing-songed before he stepped out of the apartment. Y/N shook her head while she kept her gaze on her phone.

Kasey delicately tapped her hands against Y/N’s thigh. She lifted her gaze from her phone to meet Kasey’s gaze. “Are you okay?” Kasey asked softly. Y/N blinked a few times before shaking her head slightly.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kasey pouted her lips.

“I’m fine,”

Kasey leaned towards her, practically getting on top of her, “The love of your life just walked out the door on a date with another woman,” Kasey whispered.

“He’s hardly the love of my life,” she shot back quietly while looking into Kasey’s eyes. “I don’t have any feelings,” Y/N expressed. Kasey huffed and stood up from the couch, dodging Michael and Frankie in the process. She walked around towards the back of the couch.

Kasey motioned towards her to follow her. Y/N reluctantly stood up from the couch, Michael nearly smacked her in the head. “Damn, Y/N, you know not to get in the way of Mikey and Gaga,” Frankie joked as she stumbled away from the pair.

“Alright, we’re going to head home, Quinn are you coming?” Kasey asked as she started to climb out of the booth. Michael started to slide out too. Quinn shook his head as he brought his water towards his lips.

“I’ll head back in a bit,” he mumbled. Michael and Kasey smiled towards him before they started walking out of the bar. Quinn’s gaze followed Frankie who was busy chatting up a red haired girl that was definitely way out of his league. She seemed interested enough.

Quinn lifted his gaze to see Kasey talking with Y/N for a moment before her and Michael walked out of the bar. Y/N didn’t need to look through the bar to find Quinn. They sat at the same booth every time they were there. Which was nearly every night. They would only drink two nights they were there but it was their hangout spot.

She pouted her lips slightly as she slide into the booth, the same side as Quinn.

“Why is it every time you come here you have a pout on your lips,” Quinn teased as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Y/N rested her head onto his shoulder, he ran his hand up and down her arm.

“It’s not every time,” she mumbled fighting the grin on her lips.

Quinn’s face scrunched while smirking, “It’s almost every time.” He leaned his head against hers as he stared blankly ahead.

“Well you… guys always make me feel better,” she mumbled. Quinn smiled to himself before he leaned towards her, pressing his lips to the top of her head for a second.

After a few seconds she lifted her head to meet his eye. His hand glided up her arm, running through her hair as he took a hold of her neck. “What are you doing, Quinn?” she asked softly as she rested her forehead against his. Their hearts were beating out of their chest as they felt like they were in their own little bubble.

“Quinn,” she mumbled before he leaned towards her, delicately kissing her. She hummed against his lips as she took a hold of his t-shirt, tugging it slightly.

“You have an apartment upstairs, we should head to your apartment upstairs,” he mumbled against her lips. She giggled.

“Let’s go to my apartment upstairs,” she teased as she slowly glided out of the booth, holding out her hand for him. He gladly took a hold of it as she guided him towards the exit of the bar.

“Oh yeah!” Frankie shouted as he saw them walking out together.

Once they were upstairs, her small studio apartment was always there “secret” spot together. She shut the door and twisted the lock as she pressed her back against the door. He stood in front of her, shyly shoving his hands into his pockets.

She reached her hands up and delicately took a hold of the base of his neck. She dragged her thumbs across his skin as she looked into his eyes He pressed his lips together as he scanned her features.

“What are you thinking?” she asked as she tilted her head back against the door.

He smirked as he inched towards her, “I’m not thinking,” he mumbled as he leaned towards her devouring her lips.

Kasey took a hold Y/N’s arm and guided her towards her bedroom, to talk without the boys hearing. Not that they were listening much anyway. “Frankie said that you two left the bar the other night holding hands and that he saw you guys be all close and cuddly,” Kasey whispered excitedly as she forced Y/N to sit down onto her bed.

Rolling her eyes she pursed her lips forward. “It’s not like we had sex,” she mumbled.

Kasey let out a dramatica groan as she sat beside Y/N yet she also laid onto her back. Kasey pretended to punch the ceiling. “So you’re completely okay with making out with him and then watching him go on a string of first dates pretending to find the one. When we all know the one is you,” she explained while dramatically using her hands to make her point.

“I don’t know about that,” Y/N let out barely above a whisper as she laid on her back, following Kasey in pursuit.

“Do you have feelings for him?” she asked as she turned her head to meet Y/N’s gaze.

She didn’t want to say yes. She knew that Quinn was special from the moment that she met him but she wasn’t ready. Still didn’t feel totally ready. Because what does being ready even mean?

“I’ll take your silence as a declaration of love,” Kasey teased.

“It’s not, it’s an I don’t know,” she muttered.

~~~

It had been a month since Quinn’s gone on any date. Josephine ended up being a huge Canucks fan and wanted nothing more than to be involved with the captain. Quinn swore off dating after that, he was honestly terrified of the stalking that came with girls like that.

Quinn stumbled into the apartment after a win by the Canucks where he had the game winning goal. Despite his friends having season tickets that Quinn paid eighty percent for because they insisted on contributing; they didn’t end up going to the game that night.

Kasey stumbled out of the bedroom, her pajamas covering her frame. She threw her hands to the side, “Why do you insist on playing good when we don’t go? That’s so unfair,” she let out somewhat jokingly. She jogged towards him, pulling into a tight bear hug.

“Then you guys need to start coming to every game,” he muttered as he chuckled. His eyes scanned the apartment, furrowing his eyebrows. “No, Y/N or Frank?” he asked softly.

“They went out to a club or something, said that they were going to be each other’s wingman,” Kasey said, somewhat instigating. Quinn’s eyes widened as he nodded, he ran his hand across his chin.

“They went-like- together?” Quinn asked softly, meeting Kasey’s gaze. She nodded slowly, fighting the grin forming to her lips. “Cool, that’s cool.”

“One more time and I’ll believe you,” she muttered, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s cool,” he let out. She smirked as she started stepping back towards her bedroom.

“Okay, goodnight Quinn,” she teased before she slipped back into her room. Quinn nodded before he slowly walked towards his bedroom, directly opposite of Kasey and Michael’s room.

He stepped inside of his room and every hit he took during the game suddenly overtook his body. His entire frame felt battered and bruised. He took in a shaky breath as he took a hold of the hoodie on his frame, he pulled it away from his body, tossing it towards the corner of his room.

He walked towards the small mirror hanging above his dresser, taking note of the redden and bruising jagged spot on his ribs. Clenching his jaw, he delicately ran his fingers across the top of the skin. He sighed as his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that Y/N was calling him.

Quinn lifted it up and brought it towards his ear, answering it. “Y/N, you alright?” he asked.

“Can I come in?” she asked softly. He furrowed his eyebrows as he felt his heart jump into his throat.

“You have a key to our place,” Quinn offered as he took in a deep breath.

“Not what I meant,” she mumbled. He pressed his lips together as he fought a grin forming to his lips. He reached for the door and pulled it open. They both still had the phone up to their ears. He was the first to slowly pull it away from his ear, he quickly ended the call as he placed it onto the shelf beside him.

She slowly pulled her phone from her ear, smiling softly. Her body was covered in a tight red dress and her hair was pulled awy from her neck. He scanned her frame.

“Are you drunk?” he asked softly as he stepped back into the room. She took that as an invitation and stepped inside. Swinging the door shut, it closed quietly.

“It’s Wednesday, I don’t drink on school nights,” she said with a grin toying to her lips.

“What are you doing here then?” he asked barely above a whisper, a small grin on his lips.

“I am not sure,” she mumbled as she let out a sudden breath. Quinn bit his bottom lip as he took a hold of her waist as he cautiously pushed her against the door. She let out a small gasp as her eyes widened slightly. Her eyes lowered towards his frame, taking note of his bruising frame. “Oh my god,” she muttered as she delicately traced her fingertips across his bruises.

“It’s not that bad,” he said while holding his breath. She tilted her head to the side while staring into his eyes. He nodded as he stepped back.

“Got my ass handed to me tonight,” he muttered. She chuckled as she watched him sit down onto his bed. She chuckled as she walked towards him. His gaze followed her intently.

“I can make you feel better,” she mumbled. He smirked as he scanned her frame.

“How do you plan on doing that?” he asked as he leaned back on his hands. She stood in front of him, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper. She took a hold of his cheeks, lifting his head up.

“I’m gonna-” she muttered before she leaned towards him kissing him desperately, almost as if they’ve never kissed before. He reached his hands towards her, taking a hold of her waist as he pulled her towards him.

Her fingertips began to run through his hair as they began to devour each others lips. She slowly climbed onto his lap as his hands took a hold of her thighs. His fingertips glided along her skin as he slowly ran his hands higher and higher up her frame. She pulled her lips away from his as she pressed her forehead against his.

“I’m gonna say it,” she mumbled before she pressed her lips against his again. He hummed against her lips before he tilted his head back, slowly opening his eyes. She met his gaze as she continued to slowly run her fingers through the ends of his hair.

“I’m waiting,” he let out teasingly before he pecked her lips.

“You know this is really hard for me right,” she muttered. He smirked before he took a hold of her thighs, and tossed her onto the bed. Her eyes widened as he started to climb on top of her. Scanning her features, he leaned down and delicately pressed his lips against her cheek.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled as he leaned towards her, he brushed his lips against her ear, “But I need you to say it.” he pulled back and met her gaze. She rolled her eyes playfully before squeezing her eyes shut.

“I have feelings for you,” she muttered before she slowly opened her eyes. He had a grin on his face as he looked into her eyes.

“What kind of feelings?” he asked teasingly.

“Oh shut up,” she said as she took a hold of his neck pulling him towards her. She kissed him urgently as a giggle fell from his lips.

“This feels a little out of nowhere,” he mumbled against her lips.

“If you think three years is a little out of nowhere, you are hopeless,” she let out before she kissed him urgently.

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morverenmaybewrites · 28 days ago

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Masterlist of My Works

Morveren | AO3

This is a personal blog, but I do take the occasional ask/requests. SFW asks only, please.

Genshin Impact

Stories:

✸ Someday, Somewhere (Xiao x Reader) (AO3)

You meet Adeptus Xiao under strange new skies.

✸ Speak (Xiao x Reader) (AO3)

Learning to love him is like learning a different language.

✸ Silk Flowers (Xiao x Reader) (Tumblr | AO3)

It was the silk flowers.

In summer time, they are practically given away: to seamstresses, to scribes, or perhaps, woven into the hair of a well-known customer. The token of a bargain well-struck.

Xiao claims not to be bothered by them, that adepti are above petty mortal concerns like jealousy.

Perhaps he is right, and you are reading too much into it.

But perhaps, as you are slowly learning, adepti are closer to humans than they’d like to admit.

You decide to test this theory.

"Xiao, if you hate the flowers so much," you say, smiling. "Why not take them off?"

✸ A Crown of Bone (Zhongli x Reader) (Tumblr | AO3)

Imagine being a changeling child and living your life in quiet yearning.

You had been found in the dead of winter, or so your mother tells you, a half-fey child abandoned in a snowbank.

Imagine a lifetime of secrets: your first memories are of a spring that does not belong to the mortal realm. You dream of golden eyes gleaming at you from the darkness as your mother picked you up and carried you away.

Imagine keeping these things to yourself, tucked away against the curve of your ribs, right next to your slow-beating heart. Secrets that are half-yearning and half-memory: someone had left you there in that snowbank, and there are days that you think that they did not do so willingly.

And you hope that one day, they will find you again

Headcanons:

✶Imagine Zhongli as Your Reincarnated Lover (Zhongli x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Imagine Being Kaeya's Childhood Friend (Kaeya Alberich x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Diluc x Fatui Reader (Diluc Ragnvindr x Reader) (Tumblr)

Batman: Arkham and DC

Stories:

✸ The Pizza Delivery Girl's Survival Guide to Gotham City (Jason Todd x Reader) (AO3)

People who lived outside of Gotham City would most often think of it in terms of its heroes and villains. About Batman and Robin, Joker and Harley Quinn.

People who actually live in Gotham City would only think of one thing: surviving.

Who cares about the people in costumes when your house has been bombed for the fifth time, or your wife has been taken hostage just because she worked in a bank?

Or, in your case, when you have to make regular deliveries to places where even Batman feared to tread?

Because let's face it. In a world full of superheroes and costumed villains, the real heroes are the ones who make sure that people get their pizzas in forty-five minutes or less.

✸ His Father's Son (Jason Todd x Reader, Dark Fantasy!AU) (AO3)

Gotham City: the world’s last and greatest bastion of magic. A city made out of spells and twisting steel.

And the only place where the dead can be brought back to life.

After Jason Todd had been forcibly resurrected by his father, he left Gotham City in search of a new life. One where he did not have to be constantly reminded that he now sits on the border between the monstrous and the miraculous. One where he could forget that no longer quite belongs in the world of the living.

But when a strange new curse surfaces, one that causes plants to take root inside of living people and leaving flowering corpses in its wake, Jason finds that he must come back and help solve the case before it devours the city whole.

✸ Rules of Vanishing (Jason Todd x Reader) (AO3)

Here are the rules to survive as a civilian in Gotham City:

The first rule is to keep your head down. Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't make eye contact. Walk briskly and with purpose. Don't wear anything flashy that can be stolen and most certainly do not walk down that dark alley.

The second rule is don't be a hero. Avoid confrontations. Walk the other way when you see a standoff. Don't try to help that man getting beat up in the alley, because odds are you'll get killed right along with him. Gotham City has Batman for a reason.

The third and most important rule is this: Don't get involved with superheroes.

Or in your case, gun-toting vigilantes.

✸ Next to Last (Jason Todd x Reader) (AO3)

After Batman’s death, Jason is left to pick up the pieces.

✸Revenant (Creature!Jason x Reader) (Tumblr)

Headcanons:

✶ Imagine Dark Fantasy!Gotham City (Tumblr)

✶How would Jason react to having his face traced (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Domestic Headcanons (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Eurydice! Jason Todd and Orpheus! Reader (Jason Todd x Reader (Tumblr)

✶ Jason Todd's life outside of work (Gen) (Tumblr)

✶ Jason Todd's day to day life (Gen, mild Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Imagine Wayne Manor as a Haunted House (Bruce Wayne x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Sleeping Arrangements (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ What kind of praise/compliments Jason would be fine with? (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ What freaks him out most in a relationship? (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

✶ Jealousy and Insecurity Headcanons (Jason Todd x Reader) (Tumblr)

Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

✸ Stolen (Hawks | Keigo Takami x Reader) (AO3)

He is five years old when he decides to be a hero. It is not as simple learning to fly nor is it as easy as saving people.

But he does not know that yet.

Snapshots of Hawks’ life from child to hero to something else in between.

#masterlist #jason todd x reader #hawks x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #diluc x reader #morverenmaybewrites

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thegirlwiththeblush · 2 years ago

Text

Honest

- Love Quinn x Reader

- Word Count: 2,484

- Shared prompt with @vorsdany

Summary: Reader pursues a crush on Love Quinn, only to discover she’s not exactly what she seems.

a/n: sometimes i just throw words together and they’re not great but i try

I’m not sure what it was that first caused me to fall for Love Quinn.

It’s not that there wasn’t anything about her that stood out; quite the opposite, in fact. In a city full of self-absorbed, fame-hungry narcissists, her kind heart and unreserved smile were a sight for sore eyes. She never forgot a face, and she never refused anyone her time or her effort. Being the younger sibling of her twin brother Forty’s best friend, I’d had the opportunity to watch her grow into a strong and generous young woman.

So it was really no wonder that I’d taken a fancy to her. But I wanted to know why it took so long.

I remember the day I figured out that I was attracted to her; it wasn’t that the feelings developed then, but rather, it felt like I stumbled upon them, already existing, hidden deep in my mind.

The four of us had been out picnicking, a rare opportunity we’d taken when the Quinns had the day off from Anavrin and my brother wasn’t working on one of his hundreds of projects. When our brothers had decided to crack open some beers and start discussing business concepts and Forty’s never-ending script ideas, Love and I excused ourselves to sit mindlessly and make daisy chains.

“Y’know,” Love said, breaking the silence as she gently split a stem, “these are actually two flowers in one.”

I raised an eyebrow in intrigue, waiting for her to elaborate. A lock of hair slipped over her shoulder from behind as she leaned forward, continuing.

“The yellow in the centre is a separate bloom from the petals,” she explained. “It turns out a plant is better at multitasking than humans are.”

I chuckled at her joke and returned my attention to my task. She began humming softly, a tune I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but the melody moved something in me. I looked up at her again, taking her all in; her hair draping into the long grass as she leaned forward, her long, slender fingers working delicately. She ceased her humming for a moment, and without moving her head, her eyes darted up to meet mine, a small smile breaking her focus as she caught me in the act. Then, as if nothing had happened, she continued her song, murmuring the lyrics, and even shuffling closer to me.

The solace I found in her presence in that moment, the sense of safety and absolute comfort, awakened something in me.

Hardly a day went by once I discovered my feelings for her that I didn’t pop in to Anavrin. I didn’t always say hi; sometimes I’d just watch her through the kitchen window, admiring her focus and enthusiasm as she baked and cooked for her friends. There was a good chance she knew I was there; if I ever encountered her in the store, she’d flash a knowing grin at me, as if she was proud of keeping my secrets to herself. Occasionally I was invited to events with her, Forty, and my brother, but these were rather infrequent, and far from enough to feed my curiosity, so I had to resort to my little spy missions.

“I honestly don’t know why you like her so much,” Delilah said as she sipped at her smoothie. She sat across from me in our favourite café, an umbrella over our table protecting us from the unforgiving Los Angeles sun. I shifted shyly in my seat, the sweat on the back of my legs gluing me to it. Delilah was one of my closest friends, but she was never one to mince words, even with those she cared about; not to mention, with her independent mindset, she probably wouldn’t call me one of her closest friends.

“The Quinns are just a bunch of rich, stuck-up bitches,” she continued, pushing her shades up to the top of her head as she sat back. “Love’s the only decent one, but even if she was worth it, I’d never marry into that family.”

No one said anything about marriage, but I could see her point.

“It’s nothing, really,” I insisted. “It’s probably just a passing fascination, honestly; no one else here is interesting enough.”

I expected her to get snarky about me inadvertently calling her uninteresting, but she simply stuck out her lower lip and tilted her head in agreement. “Everyone thinks they are,” she pointed out.

Unfortunately, she had a solid point.

That afternoon, after Delilah had gone back to the hotel she managed to check in on her younger sister, I gave in to my tendencies and headed towards Anavrin. I wondered if the other employees there were wary of me, always coming in and, most of the time, leaving with nothing. Not that it was going to stop me, but I didn’t want to come off as some loiterer or stalker.

“Hello, again, stalker.”

I spun round to face Forty Quinn, raising an eyebrow to appear confused by his accusation. He smirked, not at all convinced by my ploy. “You have a contender,” he added innocently, gesturing in the direction I had been heading. Turning to follow his gaze, I saw a young man around Love’s age, chatting casually with Love. I blinked rapidly; she looked so engaged, so enraptured by him, that I immediately felt jealousy bubbling up in my throat.

“You’re jealous.”

I turned back to face him, shoving my emotions down. “I’m not,” I argued calmly. “I’m very happy for her actually.”

“Mhm.” He nodded sarcastically, obviously not buying it. “Maybe you should’ve made a move sooner, huh, sport?”

I squinted at the nickname but didn’t have the courage to roll my eyes. Who knew what Forty could do to me if he got wound up. Instead, we both continued spying on the newbie and Love. They were too far for us to catch the entire conversation, but I heard enough to figure out his name was Will, and he’d just been hired to work in the Anavrin café. So he’s gonna be sticking around? Damn it.

It was Forty’s turn to raise an eyebrow at the long, wistful gaze they exchanged, before Love excused herself, leaving Will to watch her while Forty and I ducked behind a bookshelf to avoid Love.

“Something definitely just blossomed there, sport,” he whispered to me, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m gonna have to keep a close eye on this Will guy.” He looked at me with a glint in his eye. “And you’re gonna have to up your game.”

I left before I could get myself caught up in any more of Forty’s scheming, but not before buying a frosted bun from the café so as not to look suspicious.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect when it came to Will. Love had never been interested in anyone since her husband James had passed; I’d always used this as an excuse for myself not to approach her with my feelings. But as I continued my little missions to Anavrin, and the more I observed Will, the more I began to question any chance I could have with the older Quinn twin. His character seemed so much deeper and more interesting than mine. He organized the bookshelves and stands in such a way that made him seem worthy of managing the store. Even Forty had taken a strong liking to him, enough to make me feel a twinge of jealousy.

“A good story cannot be devised,” Will said, speaking as if poor Forty could recognize literary quotations outside of comic strips and B-grade movie scripts, “it has to be distilled. That’s Raymond Chandler,” he added when Forty had no reaction but complete dissociation.

Forty slapped Will’s shoulder in delight, saying “Exactly!”, trying to give the impression that he’d felt Will’s sentiment in the depths of his soul. The quotation would’ve been better appreciated by Love, and I hated that.

Forty stepped back, surveying Will’s face in deep thought. “Sport,” he said. “Come with me to Harold night after work. I’m talent scouting.”

I turned away before I could catch more of the conversation and let it sting me any more. Sport. That was my nickname.

Forty wasn’t the one I was trying to win over. But if he was a harbinger of what was to come, things weren’t looking so good.

As if things couldn’t get more complicated, my brother was offered an amazing business proposal out of state the very week I spotted Forty and Will chatting. A golden opportunity, there was no way he could turn it down; and while I’d never left California, there was no way I was sticking around if he wasn’t staying. Not when my two best friends were being snatched away from me by some tall, gangly nerd.

Unless.

Maybe there was still some chance I could win Love over, if I was finally honest with her.

The next time I came into Anavrin, Love was in the kitchen; fortunately, the Quinns had given my brother and I complete access to the store, and most of the staff knew me. I made my way through the halls of lockers, fighting the urge to flip off Will as I passed him.

I opened the kitchen door softly so as not to startle Love, and blushed a little when a surprised smile came over her face at the sight of me. “Good morning,” she greeted as she slid some oven mitts on, “care for a muffin?”

I closed the door behind me and pulled up a chair next to the counter. “What kind?”

“Apple cinnamon,” she replied. I bristled as a wave of heat from the oven washed over me, and Love removed a tray from inside. The most tantalizing smell overwhelmed my nostrils, and my mouth immediately started watering. Good Lord, I was gonna have to be at my most vulnerable during this difficult conversation; I really had my work cut out for me.

“What brings you here, other than my unmatchable baking skills?” she asked. She handed me a muffin on a paper towel, the sweet aroma floating up into my face. I breathed in deep before answering.

“I’m sure Forty’s told you about my brother,” I began, before blowing on the muffin and taking a bite. An impossibly perfect texture; it held its shape when bitten into, but melted in the mouth. Why did everything she did have to be absolutely flawless?

“Yeah, he mentioned it yesterday,” she agreed, leaning back against the bench with a muffin of her own. “I’m excited for him! Are you moving with him?”

And here we were. The moment I’d denied myself for so long, but had no choice but to face now.

“That’s actually why I came to see you,” I said, lowering my voice. “I’m not sure.”

She tilted her head curiously. “Where do you feel more drawn to?”

I took another mouthful of muffin to stall myself up, before looking up to meet her gaze. Swallowing hard, the cinnamon flavour suddenly making breathing more difficult, I mumbled, “I feel drawn to you, Love.”

She grinned widely. “Aw, that’s sweet! I think you’re a great friend, too.”

I closed my eyes slowly. She was only making this more difficult. I bit my lip before adding, “I’m drawn to you in a way friends don’t understand.”

I didn't open my eyes. I was afraid of what I'd find; embarrassment? Disgust? A mix of both? My chances with her seemed to be growing slimmer the longer I gazed at the back of my eyelids, so I finally gave in and looked back up.

But what I saw deeply unsettled me. Her gaze had turned dark, her beaming expression completely erased.

“You don’t want me,” she murmured, her voice and tone lowered to an almost-deathly note. “Trust me.”

I blinked, putting the muffin on the bench behind me as I tried to recover my voice. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” she continued. “What I’ve done.”

What was she talking about? The way she spoke, it didn’t seem like she was just talking about relationships...

“Listen,” she said, stepping away from the bench and towards me. I felt as if I should get up and step back, but I didn’t move. “I think it’d be wise if you moved with your brother, okay? Feelings come and go... and they, can’t be trusted.”

And in that moment, as Love gazed down at me, with a look that didn’t belong to any Love I thought I knew, I didn’t love her.

I feared her.

I left with an abrupt farewell, leaving the muffin behind due to a sudden loss of appetite. The moment I got home, I began packing my things to move with my brother.

As months passed, I’ll admit, I couldn’t help but keep tabs on Love. While the things she’d said to me had frightened me in a way I couldn’t understand, curiosity got the best of me; maybe I could uncover whatever secret she held that separated her from the Love I thought I’d loved. I watched as she married Will, had a child with him, moved to Madre Linda to have more privacy (not enough to evade my stalking).

All through that time, I tried to bring up what had happened with my brother. He called me paranoid, told me I was overthinking or reading into her words, but I never backed down. The Love I’d seen that morning was someone to be wary of. I wanted to prove it to him so badly.

Until she died.

The story managed to make it to a news channel in LA, so it required no stalking on my part. After sending out a suicide note, Love had burned down her home, with her and Joe inside. No one yet knew what had become of their son, Henry, but they’d found remains of the two of them in the aftermath of the fire.

“Fucking hell,” my brother murmured, resting his head in one hand as he watched the article play out. “When you told me she was crazy...” He waved his other hand at the TV. “I’d never expected this.”

I bit my lip and asked him to change the channel. I stared at the TV, trying to keep my attention on the mindless sitcom he’d switched it to. It bugged me, that after I’d been honest and open for the first time in all my life, I’d been given dishonesty and mystery in return. But, of course, there was nothing I could do now. There was no way I could find out what she’d meant that day, or what she’d done that made her someone to be afraid of.

Maybe it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, and forget all about Love Quinn.

#love quinn #you #you netflix #victoria pedretti #joe and love #love quinn fanfic #you fanfic

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