#i’m calling ‘em quick fics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ama3003 · 2 months ago

Text

In the Middle

Character: Bucky Barnes

Requested: No

Type: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: Being caught in the middle is always hard.

A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!! I have seen Thunderbolts* on Thursday (amazing btw) and have been craving Thunderbolts!Bucky. Also reader is like mid to late 20s.

Also double whammy with these fics. Also thank you those who requested some fics. I'm getting on them right now. Keep em coming!

Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC

3...2..1...

“I cannot believe this dude,” Sam says, pacing the living room like it personally offended him. His hands are moving almost as fast as his mouth. “I tell him Ross wants me to rebuild the Avengers, right? I open up—I mean really open up. I tell him I’m not sure I’m the guy for it. That maybe Steve made a mistake giving me the shield.”

He stops mid-step and points dramatically in the air, like he's building up his case.

“And you know what Bucky says? ‘No, he didn’t.’ That’s it. No discussion. Just—‘No, he didn’t.’ Point. Blank. Period. And I'm not gonna lie, that's all I needed to hear."

You open your mouth to say something, but Sam’s already spinning toward you.

“And I believed him! I believed him because I thought he was my best friend.”

"Hey!" you cut in, brows raised.

Sam waves you off. “Nah, nah—don’t ‘hey’ me. You know you’re like my sister. Ultimate mega best friend status and all that, but not the point right now. Lemme vent about your ugly boyfriend real quick.”

You throw your hands up in surrender. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you!” Sam claps once, then starts pacing again. “Then I find out there’s already a ‘New Avengers’—capital N, capital A—already up and running. And guess who’s right in the middle of it? Bucky! Like I wasn’t gonna find out!”

He stops again, staring at you like it’s your fault. “You know what I call that? Betrayal.” He jabs the air for emphasis. “Straight-up betrayal.”

You’re sitting on the sofa, letting him work through it. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him. Bucky had called not ten minutes ago to talk about—of all things—the copyright on the Avengers name.

Now Sam wants to sue them.

“Fourteen months,” Sam says, voice rising, “of back-and-forth with this man and his ‘new family.’ You remember what we went through? What he went through? Guess what? We were his family first. And now he’s calling me like I’m the one stepping on toes? Like I’m in the wrong for trying to do what Ross asked me to do?”

“He told you to back off?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Sam gives you a long-suffering look. “He wants me to give him the rights of the name."

"So it didn't end well..." You sighed, rubbing your temples.

"Y/N… if I’m venting like this, how do you think the call went?”

You try to offer something. “Can’t you just… I don’t know. Combine the teams? Be the MegaVengers or something? Steve literally said ‘Avengers, assemble’ and there were like a thousand people who showed up. We all kind of worked together then.”

Sam looks horrified. “No. No combining. It’s not about numbers—it’s about principle. That man knew what this meant to me. And now he’s trying to sidestep it like it’s nothing.”

He crosses his arms and looks at you with purpose. “You need to talk to him. Get him to step back.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not getting in the middle of this.”

You meant it. You’ve known Sam for years—he was your ride-or-die, your day-one, the brother you got to choose. But through Sam, you met Bucky. And he became your favorite person. You were in between your best friend and the love of your life.

You learned about the ‘New Avengers’ team at the same time Sam did. The two of you had stared at the screen in disbelief.

But after hours of yelling at Bucky—tears, arguments, explanations—you got it. You understood that he hadn’t meant for it to happen like this. That Valentina made moves he couldn’t stop. He hadn’t betrayed you… not intentionally.

Still, the line between intention and impact? That’s where Sam lived.

He stares at you for a moment, then reaches into his jacket and hands you a folded sheet of paper.

“What’s this?” you ask, skimming it. Then you stop. Your eyes widen.

“I want you to join my team,” he says simply. “The new Avengers.”

Your jaw drops. “Sam…”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says quickly. “You really think I’d build a team without you? Come on. We’ve never not been on a team together.”

“Sam, I… I can’t sign this,” you say, handing the paper back. “You know I can’t.”

He rolls his eyes. “You can. You should. Y/N, I’ve already started recruiting. I’ve got a plan, but I need my right hand. I need you.”

You stand, walking toward him. “And I can’t go against Bucky.”

He exhales sharply, then softens. “Just… think about it, okay? I don’t need a yes right now. Just don’t say no yet.”

“Sam…”

“Think about it,” he says again, looking at his watch. “Ugh—venting session’s over. Gotta go pitch Ross on the plan. Wish me luck.”

He leans in, presses a quick kiss to your cheek, "Please think about it," and walks out the door.

You sit back down, staring at the paper. Then you run a hand through your hair, heart pounding.

A few quiet moments pass.

Then you grab your bag and head straight for the other tower.

*****

“James Buchanan Barnes—you are in so much trouble.”

Your voice echoed through the tower as you dropped your bag with a thud. The team—scattered around the lounge doing everything from eating chips to watching TV—immediately snapped to attention.

A chorus of "Ooooooh!" broke out like a middle school lunchroom.

Bucky stood up fast, hands already in the air like he was facing down a SWAT team. “Okay, doll, don’t be mad.”

You marched forward, hands on your hips. “Don’t be mad? You asked Sam to drop the Avengers name.”

“He’s suing us!” Bucky shot back, already defensive. “We had the name first! Val got the jump on it—we just made it official.”

He crossed his arms like a stubborn teenager. Behind him, his teammates exchanged exasperated looks, a few shaking their heads like, here we go again.

“Are you both five?” you snapped. “You need to talk. Face to face. Not through lawyers. Not through phones. Like actual adults.”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Bucky muttered. “And honestly, I don’t want to see him either.”

He tried to hold his glare, but it faltered when he looked at you. He could see it written all over your face: this was tearing you up. And he hated that he’d played a part in it.

“I saw Sam today,” you said quietly. “He asked me to join his team.”

The room fell completely silent. Even Yelena put down her snack.

Bucky blinked. “And… what’d you say?”

“I told him no. For now. But he asked me to think about it.”

Bucky scoffed like that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “Think about it? What’s there to think about? You’re not joining them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Every single person in the room physically cringed. Even Red Guardian mouthed oh no.

“You’re not serious right now,” you said, voice low and dangerous. “Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

“I’m saying Sam’s being irrational,” Bucky argued, digging his own grave. “He’s suing us, Y/N. You can’t join them. That’s not how this works.”

You stepped toward him, fire in your eyes. “He’s not being irrational. He’s hurt, Bucky. He thinks you betrayed him. And the truth? Even if it wasn’t on purpose—you kind of did.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I get it,” you added, softer now. “He shouldn’t have filed a lawsuit. It’s messy. But this—this whole thing—is a disaster. And you’re both too stubborn to fix it.”

Bucky slowly reached for you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I never wanted to put you in the middle of this. I just... I won’t give up on this team.”

You let him hold you, but your heart was heavy. “I know,” you whispered, then gave him a small kiss. “But I can’t keep being the bridge between you two.”

He pulled back, looking at you. “Then don’t be. Move in with me. You said you were thinking about it. And hell, you could just join us too. We’d be unstoppable.”

You stepped back, blinking. “Are you seriously asking me to join your team right after I told you Sam asked me the same thing? Are you kidding me, Bucky?”

“Not cool,” Yelena muttered, earning a death glare from Bucky.

Then your phone rang—loud and dramatic. Mariah Carey’s voice filled the room. You groaned and answered.

“What, Sam?”

“Figured you were over there,” he said. “So I’ll keep it short. Ross and I have a few new recruits saying yes already. We might fast-track things. So I need an answer. ASAP.”

“You gave me thirty minutes—”

“Thirty minutes for what?” Bucky leaned in, practically pressing his ear to your phone.

“Would you stop?” you muttered, pushing him back.

“Is that Barnes?” Sam asked over the line. “Yo, Barnes—fuck you.”

Bucky blinked. “What did he just say?”

You sighed. “He said—”

“I said fuck you,” Sam shouted, louder this time.

You snapped.

“That’s it!” you barked, stepping between the two of them. “Both of you, shut up.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

“I am so done being in the middle of your pissing contest,” you said, voice shaking now. “You used to be a family. We used to be a family. And you two are tearing it apart like a couple of overgrown toddlers.”

Bucky looked like he’d been slapped. Sam was silent on the other end.

“You know what’s really messed up?” you added. “You both say you love me, you both trust me—but you’re trying to make me pick between you. And I won’t. I won’t.”

Everyone was still, barely breathing.

Then Sam, faint over the phone: “Wait… Did Barnes ask you to join the FAKEngers?”

“We’re the real Avengers, for the record,” Bucky muttered.

“Oh my god,” you said, throwing your hands up. “I’m done. Until you both grow up and get your shit together, I’m out. I’m not picking sides.”

You turned, grabbed your bag, and stormed toward the door.

“Wait—what do you mean?” Bucky called, chasing after you.

You turned back, pointing between him and your phone. “I love you, Bucky. And Sam—you’re my brother. But if you two can’t stop acting like enemies, then you don’t get to have me caught in the crossfire.”

And with that, you hung up the call and walked out.

Back in the room, Walker slowly picked up the paper. “Ouch,” he said, wincing. “Don’t you just hate when they walk away?”

Yelena smacked him in the head. “You’re not helping.”

***********

It had been a few days since everything exploded—and both Sam and Bucky were unraveling in their own ways.

Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it: the quiet ache where you used to be. The texts left on read. The silence that said more than any shouting match ever could.

Eventually, they both found themselves doing the same thing—sitting alone, staring at their phones, thumbs hovering over each other's names.

Bucky sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and hit the contact.

Sam’s phone lit up. He stared at the screen for a long second before finally answering.

“Barnes,” Sam said flatly.

“Wilson,” Bucky replied, just as dry.

A beat.

Then Bucky exhaled. “I miss her.”

Sam’s voice was quieter this time. “Yeah. Me too.”

Another pause.

“We gotta fix this,” Bucky said. “This whole thing… it’s not worth losing her over.”

“No, it’s not,” Sam agreed. “We should talk. In person. Try to settle this."

“Tomorrow?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah. Tomorrow’s good.”

“Alright.”

“Cool.”

“…Fine.”

They hung up.

No apologies yet. Not out loud.

But it was a start.

Maybe this whole MegaVengers idea wasn’t so bad after all.

3K notes · View notes

daxisyzz · 3 months ago

Text

Lost for words

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Bucky can't keep his hands to himself while your on a call with Yelena, wanting all your attention, making you lose your focus.

Based off this prompt from Pinterest

Word count: 3.1k+ (I kinda got too into it lol)

Warnings and tags: Clingy Bucky, he's a menace, Yelena mentioned (bestfriend), neck kisses, more kisses, Bucky is basically touch starved, cute relationship dynamics, Bucky can't keep his hands off of you.

A/n: this is my little treat for my 100 followers milestone. Thank you guys!! Enjoy the fic!!

Love you guys <3

Ps. Go read chapter 1 of my new series Business Proposal ♡

Also requests are open.. feel free to send 'em.!!

You liked to think of your apartment as a sanctuary. Sure, the walls were a little thin, and the paint on the windowsill was starting to peel, but it was yours. A cozy home that smelled of vanilla-scented candles, fresh laundry, and the faint aroma of Bucky’s cologne that seemed to linger everywhere these days.

Most days, Bucky Barnes, your sometimes frustrating, always handsome boyfriend—respected that sense of peace. After all, you’d established a routine of sorts: quiet mornings sipping coffee together, mid-day breaks where he’d slip away for a run or to tinker with something mechanical in the spare room, and lazy evenings spent on the couch binge-watching the latest Netflix series.

But today, it seemed, he had other ideas. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, your phone pressed to your ear, talking to Yelena Belova—your best friend, occasional partner-in-crime, and the only person who could drag you into the most unexpected of situations. Today’s phone call was nothing dramatic, though. She was simply updating you on her day, complaining about a near-disastrous grocery trip, while you nodded and made little sounds of sympathy at all the right times.

It started out innocently enough: Bucky roaming into the kitchen, glancing your way, flashing you a quick grin. You raised your eyebrows in greeting, mouthing I’m on the phone, which typically was code for don’t do anything weird. He gave a small salute, as if to say Understood, ma’am, and disappeared around the corner.

But then, just as Yelena began launching into a story about the horrors of supermarket lines and fighting an old lady for pickles, you felt the faintest brush of warmth at your back. At first, you thought you were imagining it. You continued listening, your phone tucked snugly against your ear. But then a hand—large, warm, and far too confident, settled on your hip. You startled, nearly dropping the phone in surprise.

“Bucky,” you whispered, craning your neck to look at him. He was standing behind you, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “I’m on the phone,” you mouthed.

He only grinned in response, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. His voice, when he leaned in, was barely above a murmur. “I know.”

You shot him a pointed glare, one that said Behave yourself. But Bucky, of course, had never been particularly good at following that order.

Yelena’s voice in your ear continued, completely unaware. “So anyway, the cashier looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo for buying that much hot sauce. But it’s not my fault the best brand was on sale—are you even listening?”

“Yes,” you managed, voice slightly strained, “I’m listening. Sorry, I just—”

Bucky took that moment to press closer, his chest aligning perfectly with your back. The warmth of him was impossible to ignore. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, a barely-there touch that sent a chill of awareness down your spine. The phone nearly slipped from your fingers.

“Everything okay?” Yelena asked, clearly catching the odd shift in your tone.

“Fine,” you said too quickly. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force yourself to focus. “Just, uh… I spilled something. Go on.”

You felt, rather heard Bucky’s chuckle against you. His arms slid around your waist, locking you in place. Slowly, he lowered his head to the crook of your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. It was so light you might have imagined it—if not for the way your entire body tingled in response.

You could practically hear Yelena’s eyebrow arching on the other end of the line. “You sure you’re not busy? I can let you go if you’re… preoccupied.”

“No, no,” you insisted, ignoring Bucky’s soft hum of amusement. “I’m not preoccupied. Really, I’m—” You sucked in a sharp breath as Bucky’s lips dragged across your skin, teasingly slow. “I’m good,” you finished, sounding decidedly not good.

Bucky was a menace. You realized that with startling clarity. He was enjoying every second of this, too—the way your breath hitched, the way your shoulders stiffened when he kissed just behind your ear. If he’d come in loud and obvious, you could have pushed him away, shot him a glare, or at least excused yourself from the call. But this was worse. He was stealthy, methodical, lulling you into a trap with that soft voice, gentle kisses, and the faint scrape of his stubble against your neck.

And oh, you were definitely trapped.

“Let me guess,” Yelena said, suspicion in her tone, “Bucky’s there, isn’t he?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Bucky took advantage of your silence, kissing a trail from the base of your neck up toward your jaw, each press of his lips making your heart pound harder.

"Uh,” you managed, “maybe.”

Yelena barked a laugh. “That’s a yes. Put me on speaker. I want to say hi.”

You stared at Bucky, who gave you a quizzical tilt of his head, as if to say What’s she saying? For a second, you debated whether or not to do as Yelena asked. If you put the call on speaker, she’d hear every little sound: the rustle of Bucky’s clothes against yours, the husky laughter you were certain would spill from his lips at any moment. But you couldn’t exactly refuse her, not without raising even more suspicion.

Reluctantly, you tapped the speaker icon. “Yelena, you’re on speaker,” you said, trying to sound composed. It was a losing battle.

“Barnes,” Yelena said, her tone mocking, “are you bothering my best friend again?”

Bucky cleared his throat. You felt the rumble of it against your back. “I wouldn’t call it bothering,” he said. His voice was low, smooth as silk. “I’m just showing her a little attention.”

You could practically see Yelena rolling her eyes. “She’s on the phone, you know. With me. Some people might say that’s rude.”

Bucky’s grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Rude, maybe,” he allowed, “but she’s been ignoring me all day. I had to get her attention somehow.”

You wanted to defend yourself, but the words lodged in your throat as Bucky nuzzled against the side of your neck again. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you had to bite your lip to keep from making any embarrassing sounds.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Yelena said, her amusement obvious. “You’re tormenting her.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin. “Torment’s a strong word.”

“That’s because it is torment,” you finally managed, your voice shaky. “He’s being insufferable.”

Bucky hummed. “You don’t sound too unhappy about it, doll.”

You could hear Yelena snort. “I’ll let you two figure this out. Call me back when Barnes isn’t acting like a cat in heat.”

You tried not to laugh, but the giggle bubbled up anyway, half from the absurdity of the situation, half from your own flustered state. “Okay, okay. Talk to you later.”

The moment you hung up, Bucky wasted no time. He spun you around in his arms so that you were facing him, your phone clutched tightly in one hand. He wore a cocky grin that made you want to kiss him and slap that grin away, all at once.

“You have the worst timing,” you scolded, although your voice trembled with laughter.

He shrugged, not the least bit repentant. “You looked too adorable not to bother.”

You tried to arch an eyebrow in disapproval, but your heart wasn’t in it. Not when Bucky was looking at you like that, with those soft eyes and that infuriatingly handsome smirk. “I was on the phone.”

He leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “I noticed.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you grumbled, but you didn’t pull away when he ducked his head to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

His hands settled on your hips, drawing you closer. “I learned from the best.”

Despite yourself, you melted into the kiss, letting the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips chase away your frustration. It was impossible to stay mad at him for long. Not when he kissed you like he was savoring every second.

When you finally pulled away, you were breathless. “I swear, you’re worse than Yelena sometimes.”

He laughed. “High praise.”

You tried to scowl, but the affection in his gaze made it impossible. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He pressed a playful kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’ll take it.”

Later, you found yourself curled up on the couch, scrolling through messages on your phone. Yelena had sent a few texts, each more teasing than the last. You alive? Surviving Barnes’s torment? You typed back a quick reply: Barely. But yes. Thanks for leaving me high and dry.

Bucky appeared in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets. “Need any help fending off Yelena’s jokes?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who gave her ammunition.”

He smirked, coming over to flop onto the couch beside you. “True. But I’m also the one who can help you forget about it.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “How exactly?”He reached out, plucking your phone from your hand. “By stealing your phone, for starters.” He tossed it onto the coffee table, far out of reach.

“Bucky!” You reached for it, but he caught your wrist, tugging you closer until you fell against his chest.

“You work too hard,” he said, settling you against him. “And you spend too much time on your phone. I’m just making sure you take a break.”

You snorted. “A break from Yelena’s teasing, or from your own mischief?”

He shrugged, running a hand up and down your arm. “Maybe both. Besides, I like having your full attention.”

“You had it in the kitchen,” you pointed out. “Remember? You nearly made me drop the phone.”

His smile widened, and you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he laughed. “That was different. Now you can actually enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his fingers slid beneath your chin, guiding you into a kiss. It was slow, deep, and achingly sweet, every bit of teasing replaced by genuine warmth. Your annoyance melted away, replaced by a comfortable haze that made you forget anything beyond the two of you.

When you finally broke apart, he traced a thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry if I bothered you,” he said softly, though there was still a playful glint in his eyes. “You know I can’t help it sometimes.”

You brushed your lips over his knuckles. “I know. And… I don’t actually mind.”

His grin turned lopsided. “You say that now, but wait until next time.”

You let out a mock groan, shoving him lightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Never,” he promised, though the twinkle in his gaze suggested otherwise.

A little while later, you found yourself in the kitchen again, rinsing dishes from a late lunch. Bucky hovered nearby, drying each plate you handed him. The domestic routine was soothing—until he decided to nudge you with his hip, nearly making you drop a fork.

“Seriously?” You glared at him, though you struggled to keep a straight face.

“What?” He feigned innocence. “My hand slipped.”

You snorted. “Sure it did.”

He set the plate aside, then stepped closer, the warmth of his body pressing against your back. You felt his breath on your neck again, and your heart kicked up a notch, recalling how he’d distracted you earlier. His lips grazed your ear.

“You’re adorable when you’re annoyed,” he murmured.

“Funny,” you replied, fighting a grin, “I was thinking you’re adorable when you’re not annoying me.”

He laughed quietly, nuzzling into your hair. “You still love me.”

With a soft sigh, you turned in his arms, letting the water run. “I do,” you admitted, resting your hands on his shoulders. “But you have to promise not to sabotage any more phone calls.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I can promise to try.”

You knew that was the best you’d get. Rolling your eyes, you leaned in to kiss him, the warm press of his lips sending a pleasant hum through your body.

A sudden buzz echoed in the kitchen, and you both turned to see your phone vibrating on the counter. Yelena’s name flashed across the screen. Bucky grinned, lifting a brow. “Round two?”

You huffed, reaching for the phone. “Don’t you dare.”

He put his hands up in surrender, stepping aside with an exaggerated show of good behavior. You picked up the call, putting it on speaker before you could change your mind.

Yelena’s voice came through loud and clear. “Hey, troublemaker. You done making out with Barnes?”

Your cheeks flamed. “That was quick. And you’re the troublemaker.”

“Details, details,” she quipped. “Anyway, I was thinking about that recipe I mentioned earlier—”

“Oh, right. The spicy pickle challenge,” you said, glad to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

“Exactly. I need your help. I can’t figure out if I should make them into some kind of hot sauce, or if I should try a marinade. But I need to test it on someone who’s not me. You in?”

You glanced at Bucky, who mouthed, Absolutely not. Smirking, you replied, “Sure, why not?”

Yelena laughed. “Perfect. I’ll text you the details. And by the way, I’m bringing extra pickles so no old ladies can steal them from me.”

Bucky cleared his throat, stepping closer to the phone. “You’re not going to drag her into any fights, are you?”

“No promises,” Yelena shot back, then paused. “You being nice to her, Barnes? Or do I need to show up and save her?”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to you, a playful challenge in his eyes. “She doesn’t need rescuing from me.”

You decided to intervene before Yelena got any ideas. “Alright, enough bickering. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Fine,” she replied with a dramatic sigh. “But if he bugs you again, you call me.”

“Will do,” you said, rolling your eyes affectionately.

The call ended, and you braced yourself for another round of teasing, but Bucky just slipped his arms around your waist, looking surprisingly thoughtful. You looped your arms around his neck.

“You know,” he murmured, “I like seeing you happy. Even if it means occasionally getting on your nerves.” A warm flush spread through you. There was that sincerity again, the undercurrent of genuine care that anchored all his playful chaos. “You make me happy,” you said softly.

He brushed a stray hair from your face. “Good.”

That evening, you and Bucky ventured out for a walk. The late sunlight gilded the buildings, and a gentle breeze ruffled your hair. With your hands intertwined, the two of you wandered the streets, content to let the conversation flow.

He told you about his latest hobby—fixing up an old motorcycle he’d found cheap online—and you filled him in on Yelena’s plan to experiment with spicy recipes. Every so often, he’d nudge your shoulder or lean in to press a quick kiss to your temple, as if he couldn’t go too long without touching you.

Eventually, you ducked into a small corner café that you both loved. You ordered dessert first, justifying it with a laugh: “Life’s too short not to have cake for dinner.” Bucky agreed wholeheartedly, paying for your order and guiding you to a cozy table by the window.

Once seated, he studied you from across the table, fingers drumming idly on the surface. “So,” he said, “am I forgiven for earlier?”

You tilted your head. “I don’t know. You did cause me a lot of embarrassment in front of Yelena.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Would it help if I said I’m sorry?”

“Maybe,” you replied, smiling. “Try it and see.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice that made your heart flutter. “For distracting you while you were on the phone.”

Your smile widened. “And?"

He reached across the table to take your hand. “And for enjoying it so much.”

You squeezed his hand, unable to keep the fondness out of your eyes. “Apology accepted, menace.”

The café door chimed, and a few more customers wandered in. You sipped your drink, relaxing in the warm atmosphere. Bucky kept your hand in his, occasionally rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

When your cake arrived, you split it, laughing as he stole the larger piece. He offered you a bite from his fork in apology, and you leaned forward, letting him feed you.

“Good?” he asked, eyes bright.

“Delicious,” you managed, savoring the sweetness.

He watched you with open admiration. “I like seeing you happy,” he repeated again, his voice softer now.

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I’m happy because I’m with you.”

He held your gaze, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away. You saw the man beneath the mischief—the one who cared so deeply, who’d learned to laugh again despite the shadows of his past.

“You know,” he said, clearing his throat, “I never thought I’d have this. Someone to tease, someone who gives it right back. Someone whom i could becso free with.”

Your heart clenched with affection. “And now you do.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his lips. “Now I do.”

When you finally left the café, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in dusky blues and pinks. Bucky’s arm looped around your waist as you headed home, the city lights flickering on around you.

You strolled in comfortable silence until you reached your apartment. Once inside, you both kicked off your shoes and made a beeline for the couch. He settled in first, patting the cushion beside him in invitation.

“Come here,” he said, and you sank down, letting him pull you into his side.

He grabbed the remote, but instead of changing the broadcast, he clicked it off. The apartment went quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic through the window. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his steady breath.

After a moment, he turned to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For this. For us.”

You smiled into his shirt. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

He tilted your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “I want to,” he said, and the quiet sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten with emotion.

You reached up, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Well, you’re welcome, then.”

He bent down, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise—of laughter, of mischief, of all the little moments that made up a life together. You let yourself sink into it, letting the warmth of his body and the softness of his mouth fill your senses.

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless. He smoothed a hand over your hair, cradling you against him. “We should do something fun tomorrow,” he said. “Before you go help Yelena with her spicy pickles.”

You chuckled, snuggling closer. “Sure. But only if you behave the next time I’m on the phone.”

His laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’ll do my best, doll.” You didn’t quite believe him—but then again, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the end, Bucky was a whirlwind of affection and playfulness, and though you sometimes pretended to protest, you secretly relished every teasing moment. Because beneath the jokes and the stolen kisses, there was a profound sense of belonging that tied you together.

As the evening came by, you drifted off in his arms, content and warm. The memory of his soft laughter echoed in your mind, reminding you that even when he was a menace, he was yours—and you were his. And that was all that mattered.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #marvel fanfiction #yelena belova #love language #physical touch #avengers #established relationship #bucky barnes fanfiction

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lascvitae · 2 months ago

Text

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ THIS ONE’S FOR YOU, BABY

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ alt. NO I AM NOT IN LOVE .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ you swear you’re not in love with huh yunjin. but she’s always in your bed, in your clothes, and under your skin. and you’re one game away from admitting everything you’ve been pretending not to feel.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. basketball player!yunjin x fem!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fwb to lovers, fluff, crack, tiny sprinkle of angst ᝰ.ᐟ warning(s). cursing, there’s one argument, yunjin is mentioned to be a stoner & player

ᝰ.ᐟ word count: 3k

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: had a crazy day i almost gatekeeped this fic

masterlist.

there’s a knock at the door. three quick taps, then one hard one.

you already know it’s her.

you make her wait a beat before opening it. just out of spite. or nerves. probably both.

yunjin’s standing there. except she looks a little too tired to fully commit to it. her ginger hair’s still damp and messy, curling slightly at the ends from a rushed shower.

her tank top has come up and her sweatpants are slightly wrinkled. ahe smells faintly like your shampoo. her eyes skim over you once, quick but not careless.

“hey. i left my shoes.” she says breathlessly, like she ran up the stairs.

you lean on the doorframe and raise an eyebrow. “you have, like, five pairs of shoes here.”

“coincidentally my lucky ones.”

“oh. of course. can’t have a good practice without the power of your purple jordans.” you step aside, trying not to smile.

she walks past you like she owns the place, dropping her bag on your floor without asking. “you joke, but i dropped twenty three the last time i wore ‘em. that’s math.”

“no, that’s delusion.”

yunjin flashes a grin over her shoulder. “they’re your favorite color too.”

you roll your eyes and sit back on the edge of your bed, pretending not to notice how she takes her time crouching near the closet. she pushes aside a hoodie that’s definitely hers, then another, then one that used to be yours until she stole it.

“damn. you hoard everything, huh?” she says, standing back up with her sneakers in hand.

“me? you literally colonized my closet.”

“that’s crazy. you sound mad i’m comfortable.”

“i’m mad you don’t fold.”

she laughs at that and tosses the shoes onto the ground beside you before flopping down next to you. “you fold enough for both of us. it’s kinda hot.”

you shoot her a look. “don’t flirt with me just ‘cause your jump shot’s been off.”

“that’s not why.” she says it too quickly. then she shrugs like it was nothing.

the air shifts. she leans back on her hands, legs stretched out, her knee lightly brushing yours. her head tilts toward you.

“you coming tomorrow? it’s a big game.”

you hesitate. “i dunno.”

yunjin chews the inside of her cheek and looks away. “right. that’s cool.”

you don’t say anything. neither does she.

then she sighs and pushes up to her feet like she suddenly just remembered she’s supposed to leave. “alright . i’ll, uh— see you.”

she grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder again. but her fingers linger on the doorknob a little longer than they need to.

“good luck kiss?” she adds while holding up her shoes, cocky again, like that’ll cover the part of her that didn’t want to go.

“um. the shoes?”

“you. but i’ll take it.” she shrugs.

you don’t answer until the door’s already halfway closed. “don’t trip over your ego on the way out.”

“i’ll text you!” she calls before the door closes with a thud.

you’re pretty sure she’s still smiling when it clicks shut.

then hours later, your phone lights up for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

chaewon doesn’t even glance up from her seat at the edge of your bed. “is that her again?”

you don’t answer. you’re too busy pretending to scroll through something else. something that’s definitely not the text from yunjin asking “you home?” like she hasn’t been here three nights this week already.

chaewon throws a gummy worm at you. “don’t play with me. you’re not slick.”

you furrow your eyebrows, throwing it back. “i’m literally just on tiktok.”

she scoffs. “cap. you’re fake scrolling. nobody blinks that much when they’re on tiktok.”

you toss your phone. “okay fine. it’s her.”

“and you’re ignoring her because?” she says with a gummy bear in her mouth.

“she’s annoying.”

“wow. how ever did you fall in love with her.”

you sit up with a groan. “i’m not in love with her.”

“she smokes in your car, you wear eachother’s clothes, and she calls you baby when she wants something. you let her. that’s literally just marriage.”

“bruh. she’s just loud.”

“and so are you.”

“she’s always flirting with other girls.”

“so do you.”

“she’s a player.”

“you’re a dumbass.”

you open up your mouth to argue. then you shut it.

because what are you even gonna say? that yunjin makes you nervous when she touches your knee under the table? that she always lights her blunt, takes a hit, and then passes it to you with that lazy smile like she knows you’ll give in? that she makes you crazy but you like it?

“look. you like her. she clearly likes you. so either go to her stupid ass game and cheer her on like a good fake girlfriend or keep acting like a dumbass until she stops waiting for you to catch up.”

“i’m not her fake girlfriend.” you protest, crossing your arms.

“you should tell her that.” her words make you roll your eyes.

“she already asked if i was coming.” you say.

“and you said?”

“i’m ignoring her! so i said i wasn’t sure.”

chaewon groans. “you’re the worst. no wonder she’s obsessed with you.”

“she’s not—”

“she is. and if you don’t show up to the game then i’ll go in your place. i’ll even make a sign.” she says, cutting you off.

“ew! you won’t.”

chaewon takes it as a challenge. “bet. i will. ima paint a giant heart around her number and scream ‘THAT’S MY WIFE’ every time she has the ball.”

“you’re insane.” you raise your top lip in mock disgust.

“i’m supportive. unlike someone i know who ghosts her situationship the night before a rival game.” she says.

“she’s not my situationship.” you mumble.

“oh? what is she then?”

you open your mouth. and shut it again.

exactly.

chaewon throws another gummy at you.

“yeah. that’s what i thought.”

you both sit there for a moment, her legs swinging off your bed while you stare at your phone like it might text her for you. like it would make this any easier.

it doesn’t.

“she looked really tired at practice yesterday.” chaewon says casually.

“you were watching her?”

“duh. everyone was. she’s yunjin.”

that’s the problem, isn’t it?

she’s yunjin. loud, flashy, and impossible to ignore. the girl who plays like she’s untouchable but always shows up to your place like she isn’t.

“ugh. fine. i’ll go.” you mutter while standing up.

“i knew you would!”

“not ‘cause i like her.”

“riiiight.”

“i just don’t want you embarrassing me.”

“too late. i’m making the sign anyway.” she says already in her notes app.

───────────౨ৎ───────────

she shows up again later that night. you don’t even get a knock.

she just opens the door and walks inside like she lives her. because, well, lately… she kind of does.

“you ignored me.” yunjin says from the doorway, her voice already that kind of lazy but annoyed. like she expected it but it still pisses her off.

you glance up from your bed, pretending not to care. “you didn’t say you were coming over.”

“yeah. because you didn’t answer any of my texts.”

you shrug, scrolling through your phone. “busy.”

yunjin scoffs, stepping into your room like she owns it. “right. too busy to say two words, but not too busy to repost shit on tiktok.”

you finally look up at her. “what is your problem?”

“my problem is you acting like we’re strangers after i spend three nights here.”

“i didn’t ask you to stay.”

yunjin scoffs before she crosses her arms, leaning against your doorframe with that typical smirk. the one she uses to piss people off. “huh. didn’t know we were being petty now.”

you set your phone down with your jaw clenched. “you’re not my girlfriend, yunjin. i don’t owe you anything.”

“no. but you could at least pretend like you give a fuck.”

you scoff. “says the one who flirts with every girl who breathes?”

she lets out a humorless laugh. “ohh. is that what this is?”

“it’s not anything. we’re not anything. you made that clear a long time ago.” you snap.

yunjin goes still. the kind of still that makes your throat feel like it’s closing.

then she speaks again.

“so why do you care if i flirt with someone else?”

you hate her.

you hate the way she asks like she doesn’t already know.

hate the way her voice drops, just a little, when she gets serious. hate the fact that she’s standing in your doorway like a bad habit you can’t quit.

you stand up. “you know what? don’t come over if you’re just gonna pick fights.”

she laughs in disbelief. “you think i’m picking the fight?”

“you showed up! uninvited! again!”

“because i wanted to see you.”

you stare.

“i just wanted to see you. but you don’t feel the same. i got it.” she shakes her head, running a hand through her hair like she’s trying not to explode.

“i’m not—” you pause, then you laugh bitterly. “you can’t say that like you’re innocent. you flirt with me when you’re bored, leave your shit here like we live together, smoke in my car, then act surprised when i don’t know what the hell we are.”

“i mean, we could be something,” she says suddenly and it’s so honest that it shuts you up.

your breath catches.

and for a second, you don’t know what to say.

then you scoff. “you only say that when i threaten to walk away.”

“maybe ‘cause that’s the only time you actually listen.”

you stare at each other.

“i don’t listen now?”

“see? wow.” yunjin laughed.

“see if i’m at the game tomorrow then.”

and for the first time all night, yunjin looks hurt.

just for a second. like it slips out before she can stop it.

“fine. do whatever you want.” she says, and her voice is a little colder this time.

she turns to leave.

and for some reason, it makes your chest ache.

like maybe this time she really will stop waiting.

the door clicks shut behind her. and for the first time all day, your room feels cold.

quiet, too. like her leaving sucked the air out of it. like you’re still waiting for her to call you on your lie.

but she doesn’t.

you stare at the spot she was just standing. then at your phone. then at the hoodie she left on the back of your chair last week. the one you swore you weren’t gonna wear again.

the silence is loud.

you sit back down but suddenly everything feels wrong. your bed’s too big. your room’s too empty. your heartbeat’s too loud.

god.

you miss her.

and not in the she’s kinda hot and fun to smoke with kinda way. you miss her in the stupid, real way.

you bury your face in your hands. “fuck.”

you grab your phone, scroll past her name three times before you finally text someone else.

you chaewon. emergency. are u awake

chaewon it’s 11:43 why

you i think i like her

chaewon no fucking shit

you sybau this is serious

chaewon ofc it took a near-breakup to realize

you IT WASN’T A BREAKUP THO WE WEREN’T EVEN TOGETHER

chaewon girl she’s been your girlfriend you just dumb

you she said we could be something

chaewon AND???

you i said she only says that when i walk away

chaewon toxic af

crazy

then what

you idk i think she meant it this time

chaewon bruh she always means it

you

i think i fucked up

chaewon you usually do but this one is like

salvageable

you she looked so hurt when i said i wasn’t coming tomorrow

chaewon bc she’s in love with you dumbass

you don’t say that

chaewon scared it’s true?

you don’t answer.

because yeah. maybe you are.

chaewon

she could have anyone

ANYONE

but she keeps showing up at your door

bringing you food n shit

smoking you out

leaving her clothes on the floor like it’s her room too

wake tf up

you i hate you

chaewon no you don’t

you hate that i’m right

you throw your phone onto the bed face down. like that’ll make her words stop echoing in your head.

but she’s right. of course she’s right. you close your eyes and let yourself picture it.

yunjin’s always looking for you in the crowd like. pointing it’s like you're the whole reason she plays the way she does.

your phone buzzes again.

chaewon if you don’t go to that game tomorrow i swear on my soul ima wear a shirt that says “i heart huh yunjin”

you STOP i’m literally going i’m already planning what to wear

chaewon i knew it

simp 🫵

you i’m not a simp

you ok maybe i’m a little cooked

chaewon girl you deep fried

extra crispy

marinated in delusion

───────────౨ৎ───────────

the bleachers are packed. people are yelling, the gym smells like sweat and popcorn, and your leg won’t stop bouncing.

you’re early. like, annoyingly early. chaewon insisted on it. said if you showed up late it would give "i don’t care that much" energy.

 and apparently, that’s illegal now.

you’re wearing her hoodie. the same one you almost cried over last night. the one that still smells like her.

chaewon saw it the second you walked out of your room, but she didn’t make you change. just dragged you to the front row with a comically large amount of popcorn.

and that fuckass sign that says ‘that’s y/n’s girlfriend’ with hearts surrounding it.

so now here you are.

heart in your throat. eyes on the court. pretending not to care.

until you see her.

yunjin steps out of the locker room, jersey tucked in, wrist already taped.

 she looks good. obviously. annoyingly good.

 her hair is pushed back, jaw clenched, scanning the crowd like she usually does.

and then she sees you.

and everything slows down.

her eyes lock onto yours.

 for a second, she looks stunned. like she didn’t believe you would actually come.

 then her whole face changes.

she smiles.

it’s small and stupid. but mostly just soft.

you freeze.

chaewon elbows you hard. “girl.”

you don’t answer.

 yunjin’s walking toward the bench, still looking at you. like she’s playing this game for you.

and maybe she is.

you watch her laugh with a teammate. stretch, adjust her shorts, and then sip from her water bottle.

“can you two just date already. i’m so tired.”

you don’t respond because you’re still too busy staring.

 and somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re already thinking about what you’re gonna say when the game’s over. if you’ll say anything at all.

 or if you’ll just wait by the locker room door until she finds you first. because she will.

 she always does.

the game’s close.

like, too close. the crowd’s on their feet, coaches are screaming, everyone is basically foaming at the mouth. and you're there in the middle of it. pretending your stomach isn’t in knots, like you haven’t been tracking yunjin’s every move since she stepped onto the court.

she’s killing it. obviously.

she’s fast, locked in, dropping threes like she does it in her sleep.

 and every time she scores, her eyes flick toward the stands.

 toward you.

“she’s totally doing this for you.” chaewon says.

you scoff. “please. she’s doing this ‘cause she’s in love with basketballs.”

but you can’t breathe.

and then it happens. last thirty seconds, tied score, ball in her hands.

 the crowd’s losing it, her teammates are yelling, but yunjin just dribbles steadily.

and then yunjin looks up. dead at you.

like a movie scene. like she rehearsed it.

and then— oh god.

she points at you.

literally points.

and mouths. “this one’s for you, baby.”

you recoil so hard you nearly fall off the bleacher. “what the fuck—”

“OH MY GOD.” chaewon screams, grabbing your arm. you bury your face in your hands.

“i’m not going out with her. i’m blocking her number. i’m moving states.”

and then, just to make it worse, she hits the shot.

a clean, obnoxious, buzzer beating three.

the crowd goes feral. the team tackles her. everyone’s shouting like someone just won the olympics. and yunjin?

yunjin’s just jogging down the court.

pointing at you again.

blowing a kiss.

chaewon is sobbing with laughter beside you. you glare at her.

“this is your fault.”

“what did i do?”

“you encouraged her.”

“nuh uh! you’re the one wearing her hoodie.” she laughs before raising the sign.

“that’s y/n’s girlfriend!”

“please shut up.”

yunjin makes it halfway to the stands before she’s pulled into a pile of screaming teammates, and you just sit there with your arms crossed and your cheeks burning.

you hate her.

god, you’re gonna marry her.

you’re pacing next to your car like a divorced dad when the game is over.

the gym is still loud behind you, packed with students and fans and probably three girls who are trying to get yunjin’s number.

you wouldn’t blame them.

she did hit a buzzer-beater.

and she did point at you.

and she did call you baby.

in front of witnesses.

you cover your face with both hands. “i’m gonna puke.”

“you better not. this is my favorite hoodie.” a voice says suddenly.

you flinch then spin around. and there she is.

she’s sweaty, grinning, and still in uniform. walking toward you like she doesn’t even feel her legs. like she’d beeline to you even if the building was on fire.

“did you sprint out of the locker room?”

“duh. what if you left? what if someone else tried to flirt with you before i got here? i had to secure the perimeter.” she says like it’s obvious.

you stare at her. “you’re literally insane.”

“insanely in love with you, maybe.”

you groan so loud it echoes in the parking lot. “you pointed at me, yunjin.”

“and dedicated the game winner to you. i should get a kiss at the minumum. that’s like, the rule.” she says proudly.

“there is no rule.”

“uhhh. i think the crowd would disagree.” she says, stepping closer.

you narrow your eyes. “you mean the crowd that tackled you?”

she shrugs. “they’ll get over it.”

“you’re unbearable. your form was ass, by the way.”

she gasps. “oh my god. you’re a hater.”

“i’m literally your biggest fan. i just think you’re annoying.”

“well. good thing i’m obsessed with you anyway.” she says, stepping closer.

you feel your breath hitch. she’s still cocky. still sweaty. still so irritating.

but her eyes are all soft now. like all the yelling, all the dumb flirting, all the chaos was for this.

for you.

you swallow. “you smell like a gym.”

“you like it.”

“i don’t.”

“you’re literally wearing my name on your back right now.”

you freeze and glance down.

oh, god.

you are.

she must’ve left this hoodie at your place after that night you both passed out on the couch, halfway through a movie you weren’t watching. her name’s printed big and bold across the back in that annoying varsity font.

“coincidence.” you mutter.

she hums. “sure.”

you look up at her again, and she’s still smiling. not the shit eating post win grin she had earlier. this one’s quieter. softer.

like she doesn’t care about the game anymore.

like you’re the only thing she came here to win.

you roll your eyes and push at her chest lightly. “you’re lucky i like you.”

“yeah?” she leans in, tilting her head. “how much?”

you glance away.

“enough to wear your stupid jersey.”

“hm. what else?”

you sigh dramatically. “enough to not block your number.”

she grins. “and?”

“enough to kiss you, i guess.” you mutter.

“you guess?”

you grab the collar of her jersey, yank her down, and kiss her right there in the parking lot. under the buzz of an almost broken gym light and the sound of half the campus still celebrating her shot.

and she melts.

completely.

when you finally pull back, her eyes are wide. dazed.

“shit. that felt like a girlfriend kiss.” she breathes.

you groan, shoving her toward the passenger door. “get in the car, jennifer.”

“yes ma’am.”

taglist — @saysirhc @prologue-ae @yuyuy90

#this one’s for you baby — hyj #le sserafim #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim yunjin #le sserafim huh yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin #yunjin x fem reader #jennifer huh #wlw #wlw post

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i-love-ptv · 10 hours ago

Text

Your Forever is All That I Need ♡♱

Husband!Remmick x Wife!Vamp!Reader

Navigating through life as Remmick’s darling vampire wife—basically follows the events of Sinners

wc: 4095

warnings: toxic relationship (not reader and remmick), small mention of domestic violence (not reader and remmick), b*rt and j*an/klan mentions, small mention of infidelity, remmick is a bit of a freak ball (🤤) , reader is bratty but she lovesssss her husband

an: hey guys….😀 ik i’m supposed to be working on the stack fic but i got bored sooo here! i get random spurts of writing energy srry guys! the stack fic will 100% be done by the end of this month tho

divider credits: @/uzmacchiato

reader’s race is not described in any way but i imagine reader is black 😚 (totally okay if you aren’t! you’re all welcome to stay!)

feedback is always appreciated and welcomed!

“…I thought I could trust them—and they’re trying to kill me,” Remmick fumbles with his words.

The man beyond the threshold tightens the grip he has on his gun, “Slow down,” he commands.

“Who’s trying to kill you?” The woman clad in a blue dress questions.

All Remmick replies with is, “Choctaw.”

“They took my wife—oh, God,” Remmick whimpers. “I’m a coward, ain’t I?”

You hear his desperate, faux cries from your spot behind the couple’s cabin. You look down at your ring finger and admire the band that adorns it.

Such a charming man, your husband Remmick is. Always doing the heavy lifting so that all you had to worry about was sinking your teeth into your newest victim.

You also faintly heard the not-so-friendly words they were using. If anything, it fueled your desire to turn them. Normally, you prefer to make the vampirization process as quick and painless for the individual on the other end of your bite, for you still have a sense of “humanity”, as Remmick calls it.

You think it’s just common decency, but to each their own!

‘These is Klan folk, angel’ Remmick speaks to you through your hive mind. Of course they were, you couldn’t even be surprised at the surplus of hatred in this world, especially here.

Your ears nearly perk up once you hear the sound of horse hooves clicking against the hot dirt.

‘Hurry on up, Rem. They’re comin’

‘I got it—I got it. Don’t worry yer pretty lil head, honey’

You roll your eyes, even though you know he can’t see it. ‘I ain’t worryin’, I’m hungry’

“Hey, I got gold,” Remmick abruptly says to the pair, who still wield their weapons. “They ain’t get all of it, you can have it,” Remmick holds out the gold coin, in need of some sort of truce. “Jus’ don’t let ‘em hurt me,” he murmurs weakly.

You peek from around the cabin–still making sure that your body resides fully under the roof’s shingles–and you’re just barely able to make out the frames of the Choctaw that we’re hunting you and your husband.

You still hear the woman’s voice, meaning the man is with Remmick. Exactly how you planned.

What transpires in the next 5 minutes is truly a blur to you. You’re famished, so much so, that your head starts to ache. But you eventually peer over the wall and you’re met with the distant sight of the Choctaw’s backs.

‘How’s it lookin’, honey?’ You question your husband, but you’re met with no answer.

It was done.

You quickly glide to the front of the house as the hot sun beats down on your large hat that you stole from the next town over, your heel-covered feet float over the ground. You don’t want to scuff them up any further–not until Remmick gets you another pair, that is. You take a seat on the rickety chair that rests on the porch, you cross your legs and lightly pick at your nails to cure your boredom.

A sharp, piercing scream resonates within the vicinity of the cabin, the loud intrusion breaks the peace that the birds once had as they now scatter through the wind. You smirk at the sound, you look up and devilishly grin at the only winged-body that remained perched on the edge of the roof.

Rapid footsteps bounce off the wooden floors, you assume Remmick’s chasing her, leading her out to you. You adjust your hat as soon as she slams open the front door. She pants and shuts the door, keeping her hands on it as Remmick yells threatening nonsense at her.

A tear slips down her now rosy cheeks, you can tell when her soul leaves her body once she caught a glimpse of you in her peripheral vision. You tilt your head at her and just blink slowly at her, “Hey there, sugar!” You chirp.

She screams yet again, her voice raw, as red claws up her flushed skin.

You then pounce on her with ease; you jump on her and her back meets the floor boards immediately. You hold both of her hands with just one of yours, and your tight grip has her hands losing circulation. You don’t bother teasing or toying with her, not with your undeniable thirst consuming your mind.

You sink your pointed teeth into her flesh. You groan as she yells for what seems like the hundredth time.

God, isn’t she tired of doing that?

The door creaks open, but you don’t shift your focus from the blood that pools down from the side of her bulging neck. You do pout, however. ‘Klan folk always taste weird’

Remmick pauses and sighs blissfully, seemingly disregarding your statement, "I ever tell you how beautiful you look while feedin’, angel?”

You lick your lips as you finally get your fill, you look at him, your pout turning into something more cheeky, “Once or twice, yes. Don’t mean I don’t like hearin’ it, though.” You jump up onto your feet, and your heels thunk on the planks next to the woman’s head.

You walk over to the Irish man, who watches you lovingly, with crimson dripping from his grinning mouth and staining his ripped undershirt.

Remmick takes your hand in his, and his other arm wraps around your waist. He holds you tenderly, before slowly turning the embrace into a waltz, “Well, you look divine, baby,” he says before spinning you. You yelp as he dips you, before laughing and smiling like a madwoman.

He presses his bloody lips to yours, and you hum into the kiss while lightly tugging at his gold chain. Remmick’s hand slips out of yours and moves down to cradle your cheek. Remmick’s slight stubble lightly scratches against your chin in the best way possible as he deepens the kiss. Unfortunately though, you’re forced to part from your husband once the woman who you bit moments prior now rises up to a stand.

“Oh! My apologies, am I interuptin’?” She exults with a smile. Remmick plants you back on your feet as you both look at her, which is when you realize that her husband is also gazing at you both.

“So are they both jus’ gonna stare at us all damn day?” You huff.

“Awwe, don’t be like that, baby!” Remmick coos, making you scrunch your face up. The couple also let out similar words of approval. Remmick grabs your chin and guides your beaming red eyes to his with his thumb and pointer finger, “Y’see, with them here, we can finally get what we always been dreamin’ for.”

All you can do is sigh, as you look between the pair, who nod at you vigorously. You grumble some more before stepping off of the porch and leaping into the air.

You look down at Remmick before speaking, “Don’t bring ‘em home ‘til you got ‘em straightened out, don’t need none of their foolishness in my house, y’hear me?”

Remmick beams at your brightly, “Yes ma’am! Anythin’ for you, darlin’!”

Your dog, Beau, whimpers next to you, you pet him before he hops up and begins barking at the front door. Somehow, it’s like he had a sixth sense for his vampiric father. You listen intently; you hear one set of footsteps.

…And then two more.

You sigh without looking up from your book initially when your front door eases open. The scent of your husband floods your nostrils.

“Honey, I’m home!” Remmick jokes, making you huff.

“Take them shoes off if ya wanna keep ‘em,” you chide half-heartedly as you turn the page of your book. “That goes for our guests as well.”

“Lovely home y’all got here!” The same feminine voice that had screeched in your ears earlier exclaimed. You look up at this; Remmick’s cooing and rubbing Beau’s fuzzy stomach, the woman wearing her blue dress smiles at you, as well as her husband, who stands behind her in the door frame awkwardly.

You don’t say anything, opting to give a look to Remmick instead, and that’s when you notice his new attire: the button-up he’s wearing is slightly oversized, as well as his pants, which are so large, they have to be pulled up and held with flimsy suspenders.

“What in the hell—are you wearing his clothes?” You exclaim incredulously.

Your husband looks at you sheepishly, obviously searching for the right choice of words. “We-well, we had t’go through town—‘cause Bert ‘n Joan here ain’t strong enough to fly yet, honey, will be soon though!”He mumbles as you squint at him with fire in your eyes.

“That’s us,” The man who you assume is Bert, says eagerly.

“Will be soon!” Joan cheers.

“Washed sum clothes ‘fore ya came in..Come ‘n take these off,” you gaze up at the Irish man lovingly as you slide the suspenders down his arms; the way you look at him while murmuring softly has him hypnotized. He hums in response and you turn away, trekking down the hall with a light sway in your hips, never looking back at him once.

Remmick finally realizes that you wanted him to follow you, so he quickly dashes to the bedroom. He has to remind himself that the two of you don’t have the house to yourselves right now when he makes it to the door, so when you wink at him, it takes everything in him to fight the urge to ravish you in ways only he knows how.

He looks out down the hall to Bert and Joan, “Please, try not to touch nun…The missus likes her organization.” He smiles tight-lipped. He steps into the bedroom and closes the door, where he’s met with you: bent over in your soft and clean house gown, rummaging through a basket filled with freshly-dried clothes.

If Remmick actually had a live, beating heart, he thinks it’d be leaping out of his chest.

His breath does skip a beat, though, and despite his cold skin, he feels his pale cheeks warm.

He thinks about sneaking up on you—rushing over to you with supernatural speed without a sound even ringing out against these four walls of your shared sanctuary, but he knows you’ll sense it.

You stand back up, hands full with a shirt and matching pants for Remmick. You turn around and smile at him, already knowing that he was standing there, watching you.

“Seo dhuit, mo ghrá,” your tone is sugary sweet as you peer up at him through your lashes, but Remmick knows that look is everything but sweet.

“Here you go, my love”

If only someone had told Remmick that emotional restraint wasn’t a skill acquired once you’ve turned, because God—did he wish he could refrain from chubbing up in his large slacks when he heard you speak Gaelic.

It wasn’t a new thing, no, you’d been learning bits and pieces as soon as you met Remmick, since you had been enchanted with how effortlessly the foreign words rolled off of his tongue. But Remmick swears he falls deeper and deeper in love with you every single time he hears the familiarity.

It makes him feel like he’s at home.

Actually, it makes him proud to have a home with you: someone who makes life feel easy, especially given the fact that you both weren’t the typical couple that you’d find in this day and age—for numerous reasons.

‘Done fantasizin’ ‘bout me, handsome? Mighty tired of seein’ ya in these rags’

You speak, yet your mouth remains shut, and your eyebrow raises at him expectantly. Remmick chooses not to speak, instead, he grabs the clothes out of your hands and places them on the bed before starting to strip. You huff out a chuckle at his sudden shyness.

Fuck—you’re so obsessed with your husband, it’s unreal.

You decide to give him some privacy, even though he looks as if you threatened him with an arms-worth of silverware as you walk away. When you shut the bedroom door behind you, you walk down the lengthy hallway and unfortunately Bert and Joan are sitting on your antique couch, hands folded in their laps, necks craned to look at you.

“Y’all ain’t no friends of mine, y’friends of Remmick, so don’t go expectin’ nun from me,” you speak firmly, leaving no room for discussion or debate. “‘N get the hell off my couch,” you scold, making them jump up as if they were popping corn kernels. Their squirming made you laugh.

“Darlin’…Hope we’re not scarin’ our new friends too much now,” Remmick teases as he places his cold hands upon your shoulders in a calming manner, and his head rests against yours.

You exhale, “Maybe your enhanced hearin’ ain’t so enhanced, ‘cause I just told these folks they ain’t gettin’ no welcome party from me—anytime soon.” Remmick feels you tensing, and it doesn’t hurt his heart, it hurts his soul.

“I-I know, I know—but it’s only temporary, baby, I swear it.” Remmick whispers sweetly to you; some of his words wrapped in desperation. He turns you around so that you’re facing him.

Your eyes are fixed on the floor as you pout without realizing, “‘N how long will that be?” You ask, your attitude never leaving your tone; you didn’t even bother to speak through your shared minds. Remmick shifts his hands from your shoulders up to your cheeks, holding you and guiding your face upwards so that he could get a clear glimpse of you.

‘Just ‘till mornin’, then y’wont have to worry ‘bout them ever again’

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t think your husband was just telling you what you wanted to hear. You knew of his plans of getting his people back, using music as a connector—so you knew damn well these white folk wouldn’t be gone by morning.

You let out what seems like your hundredth sigh, and walk to the kitchen, where you grab a glass of blood that you had stored for times like these.

Remmick grins lopsidedly, “Try not to drink too much, darlin’! Still gotta visit that ‘ole juke joint!”

“Are we sure that this joint even exists, Rem?” You groan.

“‘Bout as sure as I am Irish!” Remmick chirps, nuzzling his chin into your shoulder.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

“Well I’ll be damned…Y’werent lyin’, honey!” You exclaim, grabbing onto Remmick with just as much enthusiasm. He wraps his arms around your waist.

“‘Course not! What kinda man do ya take me for?” Remmick beams from pointed-ear to pointed-ear.

“Oh I’m just delighted to be here!” Joan giggles, quickly souring your mood.

Remmick immediately takes notice of this, and redirects the conversation. “Alright, now you stay right sweets, me, Joan, ‘n Bert got this all taken care of.” He squeezes your waist once last time as he pecks your lips; you hum against him.

Remmick secures his instrument that resides strapped against his back, and the three head to the entrance of Club Juke. The music is so loud it pours out the rickety building as if it were the ocean; the melodies meld with the air like a salty tide. You see Cornbread guarding the door, and you can’t believe you’re back here.

The last time you were here, you were living with a man that wasn’t Remmick—you were married to a man that wasn’t Remmick. That didn’t stop Remmick from visiting you every night for months after he met you, though. The ring on your finger especially didn’t deter him when he had found your husband mistreating you in ways he knew he wouldn’t.

Some nights, your husband wouldn’t let you leave the house, no matter how many times you tried to convince him that you just wanted to check-in on the animals on your farm. Remmick used to wait outside, becoming one with the shadows by the barn until you skipped on up to him. If you hadn’t been outside an hour after lights out, he’d walk back into the woods with his head hung low and a heavy weight on his heart.

On one particular night, one where your lights stayed on longer than usual, Remmick hadn’t left. In fact, he had approached your house—specifically the window that led into your bedroom.

It was wrong of him, he knows that, and he’s not afraid to admit it to this day—but he’ll never regret it, because he can still picture your face after your dead-beat husband had tried to lay his hands on you.

You had tip-toed out of your house after your husband had fallen asleep, and you knew that Remmick would be gone.

You had just wanted some air.

But you were wrong, because Remmick was still outside, waiting for you, but closer than he’d ever been before. You figured that he saw, or at least heard what happened, since his face showed both anger and a twinge of sadness.

That was the night you had been turned by Remmick.

And in that same night, you ripped your husband’s throat clean out, and watched as his life drained from his eyes.

You left without a word the morning after; you didn’t spare a single goodbye to anyone that you called family.

Not the Moore twins, not their little cousin who you looked after, not even Grace, Annie, or your best friend, Mary.

Hence why you opted out of going with Remmick to the door and seeing all of the familiar faces that could possibly hate you.

Even if they don’t hate you for leaving, you know good and well you’ll be hated for becoming what you are.

What you are is unknown by most, different, even—and different kills.

You’re so enthralled by your thoughts, you don’t notice your husband slowly walking back over to you with a sullen look on his face, similar to Bert and Joan.

“‘Fraid our plan didn’t work, darlin’,” Remmick trails off as he sits next to you on the log, still holding his most prized possession: his banjo.

“What’d they say?” You ask all too eagerly.

Remmick chuckles sadly, both for you and for him, “They ain’t interested in us comin’ in, though I don’t blame ‘em, I suppose.” You take your thumb and rub between his furrowed brows.

“…Do ya want me to go in?” You ask hesitantly, Remmick immediately grabs your hands and rubs his thumbs over your knuckles.

“No—no! ‘Course not, baby! W-we’ll figure sum out.” He smiles at you both sweetly and crookedly, calming your nerves almost instantly. “In fact, I already gotta new idea! Bert, Joan, get ready to play.”

You tilt your head and your eyebrows mimic Remmick’s a moment prior.

“Y’remember that song I taught ya, darlin’? ‘Cause y’might wanna start warmin’ up.”

Will ye go, lassie go?

Remmick sings, making a smile shine on your face. Seeing him so happy in his element makes you feel as if you’re over the moon.

And we’ll all go together

Out of the corner of your eye, you see none other than Mary walking over, wearing a pink dress and matching heels.

To pull wild mountain thyme

As she gets closer, Mary’s eyes light up in shock as she recognizes your features that she knows all too well.

All around the bloomin’ heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

Mary looks as if she wants to speak, her mouth opens then closes several times as she gets closer to you. You look at her with love and sincerity in your eyes as you sing.

As Remmick plucks the last few notes, a tear trickles down Mary’s face.

“_______? Is that you?” Mary asks breathlessly, wiping the tears from her rosy cheeks.

“Hi, Mary,” you whisper. You know she wants to say so much more, but then she faces Remmick.

She has a motive for coming out here.

As much love as you have for her nestled within your soul, Remmick is your top priority. Which is why you quickly get your head on straight as she sits down and conversates with your husband.

Remmick offers her the gold you two acquired, and she looks in disbelief, her eyes shifting from you to Remmick.

You can’t help but roll your eyes as Bert and Joan randomly decided to put their two cents in by repeating what Remmick says. But, you hold your composure, because you all have a shared goal to accomplish at the end of the day.

“Loosing a mother’s a hurtin’ feelin’.” Bert murmurs, Remmick hums, agreeing with him.

“And I wish in my heart that we’d met sooner.” Remmick empathizes, and Mary can't help but turn her head to you.

Despite being apart for all these years, you can tell that Mary’s getting riled up due to Remmick’s advances.

“I would’ve liked to have saved your mother from her fate,” Remmick muses, “I can still save you from yours.”

“No, you must have me confused,” Mary says with cynicism. “I’m sad is all, but I don’t need no savin’.”

“Yes. Yes you do. You all do.” Remmick looks at her darkly, his glowing red eyes now on display, as well as his fangs.

Mary jumps up from the log, holding her gun with an iron grip as it points at your husband. You look between her and Remmick, then really taking in his appearance.

“Dammit, Rem—y’droolin’ honey.” You scold him, slowly lifting a finger to his chin and wiping the dripping saliva, making sure Mary doesn’t get intimidated by any rash movements. Though this doesn’t make Mary feel any better.

“Petal, what the fuck is all this?” Mary gestures between you and Remmick, making you put your hands up defensively. Hearing your old best friend call you by your old nickname almost brings tears to your eyes.

Everyone around the Delta called you Petal, since somehow, some way, you always had a flower planted delicately in your hair. Sometimes you’d even leave petals behind where you walked.

“It’s a lot, Mary, ‘n I wish I could explain it all to you. But you have to trust me when I say that this is for the best.” You tread carefully with your words, trying to ease the tension in the air.

“W-what? No—what’s that supposed to mean?” Mary exclaims, seemingly growing more wary by the second as she begins to step back.

You decide to get up gently from your spot on the log, and inch towards her faintly. “I know I got no business comin’ here makin’ demands—trust me Mar, I know that.” There's a slight tremble in your voice.

“But I want ya to join us—me ‘n my husband. We can be a big ‘ole family, Mar, just like the old days. Elias, Elijah, Annie, all of ‘em! Please jus-”

“No! I ain’t joinin’ whatever you and your—” Mary snarls with hesitance, “Husband, got goin’ on. ‘M sorry, Petal, ‘n I love ya, but it ain’t happenin’! Not now, not ever.” Mary’s breath picks up as you continue walking towards her, but then, you stop. Mary’s rapid heartbeat doesn't falter, though.

Your lip quivers as you look back at your husband, sending a message not even through your mind—but through your eyes.

Just as Remmick nods at you, Mary makes her biggest mistake: she turns her back.

You thought you taught her better than that.

Maybe it’s because in a way, you turned your back on her all these years ago.

And right now, you have to turn your back to her once again as Remmick leaps into the air in her direction.

You walk with your arm linked with Mary’s; the music inside the joint sounds both riveting and inviting.

“Cornbread,” Mary greets him at the door, making him look up.

“Mary what’chu doin’ out here?” Cornbread questions as he then notices you.

“Petal? W-Where you been all these years? What’chu doin’ back here girl?” Cornbread’s jaw might as well be on the dirt right now with the way he’s looking at the two of you.

“You gon let us in, or just sit there blockin’ the door?” Mary quickly interrupts with a twinge of sass.

Cornbread uncrosses his arms and moves aside after a beat, “No, come on—come on in.”

You smile at him sweetly as Mary eyes him and guides you into the building.

‘Careful in there, darlin’ let me know if ya need me’ Remmick’s voice echos through your mind. Normally, you wouldn’t admit that his soothing tone grounds you in ways nobody else has been able to, but there’s no use in hiding it since he already hears everything.

‘Always, baby’

#lee’s writing! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#remmick sinners #remmick x reader #remmick x you #remmick x y/n #remmick x black!reader #remmick fic #remmick oneshot #remmick imagine #sinners fanfiction #sinners x reader #sinners x black reader #sinners imagine #sinners fic #sinners oneshot #jack o’connell x reader

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w2soneshots · 5 months ago

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Valentine -W2S

words: 1.0k+

warnings: none, just fluff!

summary: you and Harry spend a wholesome valentines day together.

notes: hello my loves! I’m single af so here’s a cute little fic I wrote with my fav British boy to make me feel better😌🫶🏼. Enjoy!!✨

Liked by wroetoshaw, taliamar and others

y/username: happy Valentine's Day💌

-comments-

wroetoshaw: sneaky

-> y/username: took my chance while you were distracted by the sweets🤗

faithloisak: gorgeous as always

-> y/username: I 💗 U

y/nfanpage21: balloons AND flowers! my girls living the dream🥹🤍

user: ugh, they're disgustingly cute

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was red heart shaped balloons. I looked around for Harry but he was nowhere to be found. I was extremely confused for a second before I remembered that it was valentine's day.

Just a few minutes later Harry walked into our bedroom holding a tray. "Good morning love," he greeted with a bright smile before placing it in my lap. The tray had pancakes covered in fresh fruit, a coffee and a card tucked into the side.

I looked up at him. "Thank you. Happy valentines day baby." Harry smiled then leaned down and we shared a quick kiss.

After eating the food, which was delicious, I opened the card. On the front it read, "you're a bit of a twat, but you're my twat." with read hearts surrounding the letters. "Very funny," I mumbled through laughter.

Inside the card was a different story. He wrote, "to y/n. I love you so much I don't think I could live without you (so you better not leave me!)," I giggled as he sat patiently waiting for me to read. I continued, "we have a special dinner at 7 so be ready to get your hands dirty. Love Harry."

"That was so sweet." I set the card on my nightstand and moved over to hug him. "Okay, wait there. Lemme go get your card from me!" I called as I cheerfully made my way into our wardrobe where I'd hidden everything.

I returned just a minute later with a gift bag. "Ooo, what's this...?" Harry inquired as I plonked myself down next to him and passed him the bag. "Open it and see!"

Harry was quick to fling the tissue paper across the room and look inside. "Ah! This is sick!" He looked at me with the cutest and brightest smile. He pulled out the special addition supreme jumper that he's had his eye on.

It wasn't super cute or wholesome like most valentines gifts but he's impossible to buy for so I didn't have many options.

"How the fuck did you manage to get this?" He asked, "it's been sold out everywhere!" I chuckled as he admired it. "I have my ways..."

A few hours later we decided it'd be fun to go and see the movie we've been wanting to watch in the cinema. We both got dressed into some comfy clothes and headed out.

On our way we stopped off at a shop to get some snacks since they're always extremely overpriced in the cinema and Harry loves a bargain. "Which one do you want? Actually... I'll just get all of 'em," he said as he looked at the selection of sweets. I giggled when he stood up with an excessive amount of them in the basket.

After watching the movie we stopped off for some lunch and then spontaneously decided to go bowling since we walked past the place on our way home.

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

"Beat ya!" I smiled when the final scores registered on the board. "By like... two points," Harry huffed. "Don't be a sore loser baby," I teased with a smirk then leaned into him to press a kiss to his lips. "Alright alright," he chuckled, "let's go home."

We walked back to our apartment building, hand in hand. The sun was setting and the air was surprisingly warm for February, in London. I breathed out a content sigh and leaned my head on his shoulder when we finally got into the lift.

"Hungry?" Harry asked me a little while later, while we sat on our couch with a random show playing on the tv, that we definitely weren't paying attention to.

"Mhm," I hummed. He jumped up. "Well, we're makin' pizza!" he said excitedly, "you coming petal?" I cocked my head to the side in surprise. "Oh, Haz. How romantic," I replied with a smile and followed him into the kitchen.

He took his time making the dough while I prepared the sauce and grated the cheese. Just as I was pouring the sauce into a pot I felt a puff of flour cover my shirt.

"Ah! Absolutely not!" I giggled before quickly gathering some in the palm of my hand and blowing it straight into his face. He coughed out a laugh. "Jesus Christ woman!"

He rolled out his pizza into a misshapen circle while I made mine into a cute little heart. We then covered it in tomato sauce, sprinkled on the cheese and added any last toppings.

y/username posted a new story!

After popping our masterpieces into the oven we sat back on the sofa with our drinks of choice and waited patiently for them to finish cooking.

"Mmm... this was one of the best ideas you've ever had," I murmured happily with a mouth full of pizza. "I know. I'm a genius, what can I say." I shook my head as I giggled at his sarcastic cockiness.

"You ready for bed love?" He asked as I yawned. I nodded slowly. I closed my eyes for just a second and before I could even process what was happening I was being lifted into the air, fireman style.

I leaned into my boyfriend's chest and exhaled deeply. He set me down on our bed gently. "I'm just gonna go take a shower. I'll be back in a minute to get into bed with you. Good night, I love you and happy Valentine's Day," he whispered with a kiss to my forehead before I drifted off with a soft smile on my lips.

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no-144444 · 9 months ago

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opposite's attract, right?- g.russell

Day 19 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: you have a pretty bad track record when it comes to being forgetful...

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You were one to forget things, everyone knew that. You’d forget your phone in almost every room, you’d forget where you put your shoes everyday, well, you’d forget your own head if it wasn’t glued on. People sometimes teased you about it, telling you that it was abnormal to be so forgetful, you’d ever had boyfriends break up with you over it, saying you were too much. George didn’t seem to mind. Obviously, yes there were certain occasions where it would be great if you two didn’t have to run around the house to try and find an earring, or your wallet, or whatever, but he wouldn’t trade the bright smile you give him every time he finds something for you, for the world.

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One: forgetting keys

“Baby!” you called out to him.

“Yes, my love?” he answered, coming down the stairs.

“Do you know where my keys are? I just can’t fucking find them and-”

“Do you remember what you were doing when you last had them?” he asked, having a method of making you remember.

You shook your head. “I could’ve sworn I put them in the bowl after coming in from work last night…”

“Where was the last place you remember having them?”

“My car,” you shrugged. “But I could’ve sworn I brought them in.”

He sighed and slipped on his shoes, going out to your driveway and finding your keys on the passenger seat of your car. “Found ‘em,” he smiled.

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned. “I’m sorry.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, placing the keys in your hand. “It’s alright, just don’t forget them tonight, yeah?”

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Two: forgetting a skirt

You rushed around the hotel room, quickly trying to gather all of your belongings before you left for the paddock. You were wearing some outfit that Tommy Hilfiger had sent over for you to walk in wearing, and you actually liked it this time.

“Baby?” George smiled as he watched you jump around the room trying to find various items. “Missing something?”

“Yeah, do you have my watch-?”

“Baby, look at yourself,” he chuckled.

You turned to him. “Is this your weird way of telling me I look good? Thanks?”

He snaked a hand around your waist and held you close. “Baby, you look gorgeous, but I think you’re missing an item of clothing.”

Your mouth dropped open. You ran over to the mirror to find that you in fact had forgotten to put on your skirt over the black tights you had on. You’d even put on your jacket and everything, getting completely ready to leave the room.

George laughed heartily behind you, snapping a picture to post on his story later.

“It’s not that funny,” you mumbled, pulling it on, your ego less than intact.

He placed a hand on your cheek. “It’s hilarious, sorry baby.”

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Three: forgetting an entire suitcase in the airport

“Babe, where’s my bag?” you questioned, coming back from the bathroom. To be fair, you were both pretty seasoned travellers, considering he was an F1 driver and you worked as a mechanic. He looked around his bags and his heart dropped. “Did someone take it?”

He groaned. “Where was the last place you had it?” You bit your lip. “I think back at security…”

He chuckled again, getting up and stretching. “I’ll go find it.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, slightly embarrassed by your own forgetfulness. “Thanks baby."

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Five: forgetting where you put pregnancy tests

You sat excitedly, waiting for George to come home. It had been a shitty weekend for you, spending most of it with your head in a toilet. After a week of non-stop nausea and vomiting, your friends finally convinced you to take a pregnancy test… and it was positive. Honestly, you were elated. George and you had been married a year, and you weren’t actively trying, but you didn’t exactly try not to. You knew he’d be happy, since he’d always wanted kids, and you knew how well he treated them, considering his ‘uncle duties’.

The door opened and a heavy sigh came from his lips. “Baby, I’m home!” he called out to the house. It had been a pretty good weekend for him, p4 in the race wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t where he wanted to be. He wanted to be at home with you, testing out his sneaking suspicion. Since you’d gotten sick he’d thought about the very real possibility of you being pregnant, which honestly, made him ecstatic. He wanted to be a dad, of course, but more importantly, he wanted to be a dad and have you as the children's mother.

“I’m in here!” you called back, searching around for the tests. You could’ve sworn you put them somewhere here…

He rushed in, pregnancy tests in hand. “Is this real?” He asked, beaming.

“Fuck! I left them out in the hall?” you pouted.

“Baby, we’re pregnant?” he asked, excitement rising.

You nodded, a bright smile spreading across your face. “Yeah baby, we are.”

He cheered, jumping up and down with you in his arms. He was going to be a dad. You were going to be a mother. What more could someone ask for?

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

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ughdontbeboring · 3 months ago

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pull up

Harry da Souza x woc Reader

(can be enjoyed by anyone)

You pull up and that shouldn’t be a surprising how that affects Harry.

tags/warnings: smut, a bit of a daddy kink I mean come on look at him, reader is late 20s/early 30s and Harry is however old he’s supposed to be 🤷‍♀️

sidenote: as a WoC reader is always written with that in mind. Though no description or complexion in this fic just a relation to another character.

this isn’t the original fic I had planned but a little idea I wanted to test the waters with Harry as I’m still working on the other I already mentioned.

No description of ethnicity but reader when I write is always written with myself in mind. It’s soooo self indulgent.

if you like it, love it, fuck with it leave some love. I DO NOT give permission for my shit to be used anywhere by anyone.

Minors DNI

You continue your stealth mission of making a quick pasta alla vodka as your post sex meal while you waited for the inevitable knock at the door of the two story penthouse. You had received the call only moments ago about her unexpected -though you should have expected it- arrival and request to come up from the doorman.

A soft replied “of course” and you knew she’d be making her way up determinedly. Her steps quick and sure of herself not too different from your own. You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself about his taste in women even if it wasn’t the same.

You move the pot to another burner to let the sauced noodles cool a bit. As heavenly as it smelled you didn’t want to risk burning your mouth and being out of commission. You move to grab your favorite plate as the knock at the front door finally sounds through the first level of the living space.

Setting the plate down you head to the door a little hastily hoping it wasn’t heard through out the penthouse. Your bare manicured feet come to a stop as you open the door slowly and pose a bit. The dramatics absolutely necessary in this moment.

You watch her eyes travel up your body and then widened in surprise as she finally takes your face in.

“When the fuck did you get here?” She asks in complete shock but relief.

“Last night technically this morning” you smile cheekily at her as you move aside allowing her in as she moves forward. You can see her brain working trying to figure out how she missed this.

“But-“

“I know” you say locking the door and following her into the kitchen.

“I should have fucking known” Zosia scoffs to herself.

“What does that mean exactly?” You ask laughing a little as you grab two take away containers.

“He would never turn his phone off and now it makes sense why it’s off and he’s not somewhere dead” she sighs almost annoyed but relieved. (Zosia and anyone who knew anything about you being with Harry knew when Harry starts being late it was because you were in town. Never MIA though this was new and Zosia was curious how the gangster would handle going missing involuntarily with news Tommy is missing)

“Zo!” You scold her. That was something you never wanted to think about.

“Sorry but you know the Harrigan’s think he got nicked or worse. He’s never not available when they call….and only slightly busy when your..here but never just not available” her statement as reminder of the unbearable burden and dangers his job carries.

You roll your eyes and flick your new nails dismissively in the air but Zo doesn’t take it personally she knows it’s not towards her.

“God forbid he’s not ready to jump when they demand” you mumble as you fill the two small containers with food and pop the forks on top.

“It seems too quiet, is he even here?” She asked ignoring your comment about their employers while looking towards the stairway.

“Yes and he’s sleep so they’ll have to wai-“

“Gotta wake em’” she cuts you off gently but swiftly.

“He’s sleep Zo, poor thing needs his sleep after what I put on him-“

“Ugh gosh can you not? He’s my fucking boss” she says eyeing you with her face turned up Ike she just tasted something sour. You just shrug as you lean against the counter facing her and the front entry way, your back to the staircase.

“And if I refuse?” You question. She just stared at you like you both know that’s not an option not now and not with his line of work.

“You gotta wake em” she repeats. “He’s already going to be pissed you turned his phone off. You wanna make it worse?”

“Oh I can handle him” you smirk at her watching her roll her eyes.

“So-“

“Is that right love?” You hear mumbled softly beside you as you feel the brush of his nose, plush lips along your neck and his solid body press into your backside. From the smell and feel of him you could already tell he was freshly showered and dressed. How you missed him doing all that you have no clue. Maybe you were too freshly fucked senseless to notice while you thought you were cooking quietly.

You gasp more from the feel of him than being scared as you shoot Zo a glare for apparently not warning you of the bear lurking up behind you.

“Ok yea I’ll wait outside the door” she huffs as she turns toward the main entryway with her food. Harry moves in front of you, the mountain of a man blocking your view of almost anything else as he eyes you knowingly. You’ve been caught. You wouldn’t be able to plead your case that his phone simply died.

“Oh! Brunch tomorrow and it’s on your tab for not telling your sister you are in town!” She yells as she descends down the entryway. You intentionally didn’t tell her your beautiful sister how had a different mother- hence you being American and her being British by nationality- because you wanted to surprise her but you did want just a day or two to have to yourself with Harry. He was a hard man to keep pinned down for longer than a moment.

You roll your eyes as your hands find themselves laid on Harry’s board chest.

“Yea ok. The usual spot!” You yell back as your eyes don’t leave his.

He’s eyeing you with amusement and a hint of anger. You know he is pissed about you turning his phone off last night well basically early this morning but how else were you supposed to ganrentee yourself a grade a fucking session if you knew without a doubt his phone would ring he would have to run off? Not tonight baby you thought smugly to yourself while shutting it off.

You landed around 2:30am and found yourself in Harry’s bed by 4am after he scolded you for not calling him to pick you up and how it was too dangerous to be riding around London so early and alone. Though you both knew you could handle yourself. The scolding didn’t last long before you were bent over the counter, cute panties and comfy lounge pants for traveling around your ankles, his face buried in your cunt.

And just the same like the scolding you knew would come from turning his phone off wouldn’t last either. Harry was never really able to get mad at you. Frustrated yes annoyed even yes but mad never. That put you in a very rare group of people.

Sometimes people who knew tried to use that to their advantage too.

“You’ve been naughty since your pretty ass landed love, yea” he tisk above you. His serious blue eyes pinning you to your spot in front of the counter. You feel the beginning of butterflies in your stomach.

“I-“

“Nah don’t and to ear’ it babe” he cuts you off. His voice is stern but there’s no real anger. He’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

You pout as you look up at him. Then your hand is rubbing at him, feeling the thickness and length of him even while he’s soft before he can catch on. You feel his whole body stiffen at your unexpected touch.

“Just wanted some time with you daddy” you mumble as you lean toward your soft lips kissing and nipping at his neck and up his chin.

He groans from deep in his chest as his buff solid body suddenly pushes you into the counter. The force causes the wind to knock from your lungs a bit.

“Fucking hell” he grits as your pelvis ruts into him. You grip the counter while pushing on your tippy toes to try to get the friction lower and where you need it most as you feel your thighs start to slick.

His large hand suddenly gripping your face, lips puckering slightly causes your rutting to falter as your eyes shoot open and land on his.

“So you spoiled think you can just do what you want?” He questions as his hand grips you a bit tighter.

“I-“ your words get caught in your throat when you feel his thick fingers brush over your lips and you get lost in the feeling of the thick calloused

digits parting them to circle around your clit.

“No panties love? Just walking around in my silk pj shirt with this tight little pussy out? What if it wasn’t Zo who came by? Hm? You’d like those men see what’s mine? See this wet pussy that belongs to me?” He asks the demand in his voice clear as he somehow expects an answer from you as he’s fingers work you good and fast. His voice getting huskier by the moment has he enjoys the feel of your wet pussy dripping down his hand so quickly.

“Fuck” you manage to moan out weakly as you try to shake your head no, not really even sure what men he’s talking about because your brain isn’t functioning enough, just enough to answer him.

You feel your body jerk as your orgasm builds quickly. You’re lost count since you arrived but this one feels different. Maybe because it’s rushed, maybe because you know he’s annoyed with you but also amused a bit at your bratty attempt to keep him to yourself or maybe it’s because you know someones waiting for him. Not just your sister outside his door but the oh so important Harrigan’s waiting for him to come save them, fix whatever problem they seem to find themselves in.

But he’s here making them wait a bit longer while he’s wrecking your cunt with his long thick fingers.

The thought of it all is too much. The feel of him too much as you push your face slightly to the side so he can suck on your neck.

You feel it closing in on you and you body starts to lock. His hand gripping your face tightly. His soft full lips sucking your neck. His fingers working you over fast and hard. He has no care to take this slow or let you savior it. Harry just wants you to cum before he leaves for God knows how long and you need to be quick about it.

“You better fucking cum like a good fucking girl right now or I’ll walk out and leave you here crying on the floor waiting til I get back” he threatens in your ear before nipping it and pulling back to watch you.

You loose it. Crying out you let the sensation wash over you as you twitch and your hips buck on his hand. The familiar feeling of your orgasm washing over you as the tears sip for your eyes at the overwhelming climax in the middle of his kitchen.

He watches you with a look you can’t quite describe or maybe you’re not ready too as you shake with the after shocks between his strong body and the counter while your slick drips down your thigh and his hand.

He doesn’t pull away fully yet as you watch him bring his hand to his mouth. You hear the wet pop as he pulls his two fingers from his mouth. Wet but clean of your essence.

His mouth is on your without missing a beat and he kisses you passionately and it’s so sloppy as he licks onto your mouth letting you taste yourself and his minty mouth wash.

You moan as he grinds into you, the familiar feeling of his hard cock sends your mind spinning. Your hand reach for his belt while you stand there dazed but his free hand stops you and you grown in protest.

“No. I gotta go babe” he says before pecking your lips that are still slightly puckered from his hold.

You stomp your foot childishly.

“No. No” Harry says firmly. “I’ve had enough of that for the day love. Thought you were a good girl fo’ me?”

You want to be but it’s just not fair how little time you get with him.

“Fine. When will you be back?” you ask as you run your finger tips over this salt and pepper stubble, one hand slipping down his neck to play with the gold chain around his neck. You feel his body shutter under your gent touch.

“Not certain but I’ll call ya yea?” He responds pecking your lips again and watching you nod before slowly back up and grabbing his food before he disappears down the main entryway behind Zo.

You sigh as you send your sister a text.

You: Make sure he eats

she responds moments later as you ascend the staircase with your favorite plate full of pasta deciding to unpack while you eat.

Zo: I thought thats what you were for?

You: 🙄

You: shut up, don’t make me come down and tag along as his to go meal when he gets hungry

Zo:…

Zo: pasta it is sis

You chuckle as you make it to the master bedroom. Maybe after you unpack you’ll finally get some sleep, quick nap since is was only 3:45pm and then meet some of your London friends for dinner later since you weren’t sure how long you man or you sis would be. You had to make your week worth it before reluctantly flying back home to the states.

#harry da souza #harry da souza x reader #harry da souza x you #mobland #tom hardy #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x you #ughharry #ughtom #ughwrites

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hyunsvngs · 2 years ago

Text

𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - lee minho x fem!reader

wc: 5.8k

cw: this is a piss fic, you have been warned - don't like don't read, established d/s dynamics in a relationship, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: your boyfriend has something he wants to try in bed. you didn't expect to like it so much.

a/n: like i said before this is a piss fic, if you don't like don't read! thank u to the sweet girl who commissioned this & thank u to my babies may and nessa for proofreading and also my ems <3 i was super nervous about this so i hope u like <3 smut warnings ofc under cut

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: PISS, established d/s dynamics, dom!minho, sub!reader, subspace, SERIOUSLY THERE’S PISS, face fucking, oral (m rec), very negotiated kink, minho calls reader a plethora of pet names, nipple play, one (1) face slap, minho’s condescending and MEAN, choking, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, squirting, reader calls minho sir briefly, brief aftercare but more offscreen!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s always daunting when Minho gets like this. You know exactly what’s going to go down tonight - you’ve discussed it extensively. You always have to discuss it extensively. Minho is nothing if not a good dom, and there’s rules and regulations that you have to adhere to, even if he is your boyfriend.

It still catches you off guard. He paces across the room to your shared wardrobe, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and exposing his veiny forearms. You’re perched on the bed, the exact way he told you to be in your plain black underwear. The fresh sheets are a welcome coolness on your warm skin. You’re overheating in excitement. You can’t wait.

He’s going to piss on you tonight. He’s going to piss on you tonight, or maybe even in you, he’d said - he wanted to make you well and truly messy. Just the way he liked you. He told you he’d be mean, maybe even meaner than normal, and you’d agreed to it all before climbing into his lap and begging him to take you on the flimsy dining table chair in your kitchen in all of your excitement. He had chuckled, brushing a hand over your head with a teasing little “you want it that bad, huh?”. He still fucked you, so your plan went as hoped.

“I want to talk to you about something before we start, jagi,” His voice is smooth, low in volume, yet you hear every word loudly. You nod in response, and he turns and blinks at you, slow and cat-like. Oh, yeah. You were forgetting yourself already.

You blush in embarrassment of how far gone you are already, and he smiles, soft and barely noticeable. Fond. “Yeah, Min?”

The blush only continues to spread when he finally, finally climbs onto the bed next to you. He’s still in his work clothes, shirt tight on his broad pecs and his trousers tight on his thighs. You try not to stare. You fail, and he chuckles, using two fingers to prop your chin up to look directly at his eyes.

“This scene is a little harder than the other ones we’ve done,” He looks at you. It would feel scrutinising, the way he’s sizing you up, but his eyes are so full of fondness you can’t feel perceived at all - only admired. “I’m a little worried you may fall into subspace. Do you know what that is?”

He’s using his dominant voice on you, you swear. The tone of voice that’s level, not quite monotone but very, very straightforward and firm. Almost strict. It makes you rub your thighs together in need. Your boyfriend is so sexy when he’s like this.

A quick scratch to your chin has you blinking back into reality. Yes. “Yes, I do know what that is. I’ve never done that before though, have I? So I probably won’t now, and-”

“We don’t know that,” He’s firm when he cuts you off, but presses a kiss to your nose nonetheless. “I need to know if you’re okay with me continuing if I notice you getting all floaty, jagi. I won’t if you don’t want me to. This is all in your hands, yeah? You know you run this show.”

He chuckles, lightening the mood, but he’s right. When Minho first introduced you to this, you realised very quickly that despite the dominant being physically in charge, it was definitely the submissive that held the reins. It’s hard giving yourself over to someone so viscerally - it’s a vulnerable state to be in, letting someone decide your limits and decide what’s best for you.

Despite that, you’d let Minho fuck you outside in six foot snow, so you were definitely down for being fucked in subspace.

“Yes. Yeah, I want you to- I think it’d be hot, I think,” You’re babbling already, and Minho smiles again, his teeth glinting in the low light of your lamp. “I think it would be hot if you carried on, and I was like- all fuzzy, and stuff. You know?”

It’s silent for a beat, and then he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Cute. Remember I love you, jagi, okay?”

Oh. Oh, you were starting? He normally only said that before you started, and before you can question him, he’s pressing his mouth against yours firmer, harder. It’s messy, the way he dominates your mouth instantly and uses one hand to tangle in your hair, yanking your hair back. You whimper against his lips, and he bites your bottom lip in response, finally moving to press you down to the bed with him on top of you. He starts to trail kisses down your face and your neck, and you can't help but let out a small noise of excitement. Before you can beg him to leave his mark on you, he quickly moves back up to your lips and starts to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth in an act of possession. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer, feeling yourself getting a lot more than just worked up.

His chest is muscled, the slightly toned soft muscle that only makes sense on Minho. He’s not heavy on top of you, only a presence where he licks and sucks into your mouth until you’re leaking into your panties. He pulls away, his lips dropping to your neck, and you can’t be anything more than pliant the way you let him use your skin and mark you as his. You are his. Mentally, emotionally, physically - any way he wants you, you’ll let him.

“I love this body,” Minho groans, his voice low and gravelly. “Such a filthy fucking body. You’re gonna let me piss on it, aren’t you?”

You whine, loud and unabashed, and Minho chuckles. It’s a puff of air against the exposed column of your neck and your hips cant up, searching for friction.

“Oh, you are,” His hand moves down to your bra, searching through the lace for your pebbled nipple. The lace is thin, pitch black and almost sheer, and a grin forms on his face when he manages to pinch your nipple meanly. “Look at how excited you are for it. Your nipples are so hard, are you that excited for my piss?”

You try to nod in response, but a quick slap against your cheek using his spare hand has you reeling to try and form words. You’re babbling before you can even think. “Y-Yes! Yes, Minho, I’m excited. I can’t wait, I wanna- I wan’ taste it, will you let me? Please?”

He hums in consideration, yanking down the cups of your bra to expose your tits to him. He was right - your nipples are hard and pebbled, dusky against your flesh, and he ducks down to engulf one in his mouth. His lips are full, plush like pillows, and his tongue darts around your nipple in small kitten licks. Soft, wet, warm. Pliant. His.

Minho’s bunny teeth are quick to bite at the peak, and you whine, back arching up to get more of the painful pleasure. He coos at this, finger running over your areola once when he pulls back from your chest. He sits back on his haunches, fingers deftly making quick use of his belt. The way he pulls the belt from the loops on his trousers have you remembering all the times he’s whipped you with it, and your eyes go blurry. You’re staring directly at the extremely prominent bulge in his trousers as if you somehow have x-ray vision and can see his cock in all its glory already.

“I’m going to fuck your face,” He explains, pushing down the expensive branded boxers to his thighs. His thighs are thick, muscled from years of dance, and you nod at his words despite having your vision solely trained on the bulging muscles. You can’t even keep your attention there for long - his cock springs out, hard and flushed and so big, so thick in the tight ring he forms around the base. The veins look as though they could be practically throbbing beneath the skin with arousal. “I’ll fuck your face, and I’ll piss down your throat. Do you want that? Tell me.”

He’s asking you, and you can’t believe it. Of course you want it, but you respond anyway. “I want it. I want it so bad, Minho. How do you want me? On the floor, on my knees? Or do you-”

“On the floor,” He looks towards the ground, pleased with himself when you heed his commands immediately. You’re quick to dive off of the bed and sink to your knees on the floor, and Minho lets out a fond chuckle before standing in front of you, ever the image of dominance. The hardwood floor doesn’t save your knees, still feeling hard and uncomfortable, and the way the pain bites into your legs has you shifting even more. It turns you on, being used and treated like an object, and being put on the floor to suck cock doesn’t help any. You’re positively ruining your panties by now.

His trousers are pushed down to his ankles, the perfect juxtaposition of black, thick material against his milky skin. His shirt is rolled up just enough for you to see the bottom of his tummy, hairy and soft above his cock. You expect him to keep it on, but you watch in awe as he unbuttons his shirt quickly and throws it to the side. His chest is exposed to you then, all broad muscle and dusky pink nipples against his skin.

He pumps his shaft in his hand a few times for good measure, just barely a few inches from your face, and then he’s tapping the cockhead on your lips. “Open wide. C’mon, kitty cat.”

His tone is condescending, almost patronising, and you hold back a whine. When your lips fall apart, he’s pushing into your mouth before you can even process it. A blistering, feverish pace immediately takes over his hips, and his cockhead is ramming down your throat with only a slight bit of pain beneath all of the pleasure. You try to run your tongue over the tip, to trace the veins with the tip of your tongue, but it’s impossible. He’s using your mouth like he’d use your pussy, unabashed and downright mean.

“Take it,” he grunts, looking ever the ethereal being above you. If you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was an angel - no, a fallen angel, debauched and with black, wiry wings sprouting from his back. Sweat covers the top of his chest, shiny and wet, and his cockhead presses firmly into the back of your throat. Your eyes water with the intense ministrations on your throat, hands aching to reach out and grab onto Minho’s thighs. They stay securely on your own limbs, and Minho groans, his eyes staring down into yours. “Fucking take it for me. Take my cock, dirty kitty. Don’t you dare fucking cry about it.”

You’d swear he was composed if it wasn’t for the way he was looking down at you. Minho’s mostly quiet in bed, only a few sparse noises, but the fire in his eyes is visible.

The sounds in the room are filthy. Your eyes are hazy already with the force that he’s rutting into your mouth, but when his hand goes into your hair, yanking with all of his might, you hear yourself whine between gags and you’re not even trying to. You’re floating, fuzzy where your boyfriend fucks his cockhead into your mouth - you can’t even consider what’s going on, not too out of it but out of it enough to question what’s actually happening around you. Is this what Minho was talking about before? Subspace?

“Oh, Jesus. Are you feeling fuzzy already, kitty?” He pulls his cock out, tapping the cockhead on your bottom lip. A string of drool attaches his cock back to your mouth and he groans in approval, feline eyes narrowing. “Went down so easy for me, huh? Do you think you can take a little more?”

You’re nodding then, subconsciously, but a slight smile on your face. You want more. You need more. You need his piss, wherever on your body that he deems acceptable - it’s like he’s marking you as his territory. It’s such a primitive act that gets you more than just hot under the collar. If he pisses on you, or in you, it’s as if he sees you as an object that’s beneath him, not worth anything more than his piss.

“Good,” He muses, and then his hand is forming a tight ring around his length. It’s throbbing, long and thick where it protrudes from his groin with drops of pearlescent precum, and he presses it past your lips again with a small sigh. “I’ve gotta take a piss, kitty cat. I want you to swallow it all for me, and then you can have some milk in that pussy for being good. How’s that?”

You can’t reply, because he’s already bouncing your head on his shaft. He’s resorted to pulling you up and down on his shaft by your hair this time, not grinding his hips rhythmically into the hot, wet cavern you’ve provided.

“You know, I really thought you’d say no to this,” How the fuck is his voice calm right now? “But then I realised that of course you’d be into it. My filthy little fucking urinal.”

You moan loudly around his shaft. Minho chuckles, and then he’s pulling back again, your throat abused and aching at the alleviation of pressure. His cockhead stays at the entrance of your mouth, and he drops a hand from your hair to pump it a few times, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It’s coming,” He warns. “Are you ready? Are you ready for my piss, filthy bitch?”

You moan, nodding, and when your tongue lolls out of your mouth, Minho lets out a loud groan. It’s primal, and you watch silently as he shakes his head and flutters his eyes closed to try and gain some control of himself. He runs his finger over the slit of his cockhead, and then he’s pushing the tip past your lips again and - oh.

His piss begins leaking out of his tip, a slow and steady stream that tastes surprisingly a lot like you expected. It’s purely Minho, raw and unfiltered, and you whine and whimper and let him fill your mouth up with his piss. It feels filthy, your pussy positively dripping through your panties and onto the floor by now. The stream floods down your throat even as you continue to gulp it down greedily, and you allow your hands to finally find purchase on his thighs, fingernails digging into the muscle. He allows it, his hands both moving back to your hair to bob you on his tip just a little to get the rest of his piss out.

Minho pulls out of your mouth with a soft noise, his eyes staring down at you almost menacingly. You dip your tongue into his piss-slit once more, moaning at the remnants of the taste, and then you’re whining, loud and un-muffled.

“Minho,” You say, voice high and needy. You feel as though you want to say so much, you want to beg so much, but nothing is coming out of your mouth. You’re so fucking turned on you feel like you could die. “P-Please. Please, please. I can’t, I can’t, please, please-”

He positively growls. You’re pulled up by two hands underneath your armpits and thrown onto the bed less than unceremoniously, his body sidling up next to you. He’s kicked his trousers off, you notice, body warm and firm next to you.

“Was it that good? Dirty little thing,” He hums, tongue licking one fat stripe up your neck. “C’mere. Let me taste it on you.”

Minho’s lips are firm against yours, and his hands are anything but gentle as he slides them down your body. It’s like he’s igniting you with electricity, every area of skin that he touches feeling warm and too sensitive. His lips trail down your neck, leaving another trail of fire behind them. You’re pliant, letting him pull you by your hair and your throat into his dominating, overwhelming kisses.

His fingers reach your panties, and his finger dips underneath the waistband. You gasp, holding your breath and wishing, praying that he’ll push his whole hand into your underwear, but he simply pulls his finger back with a small amused puff of air.

“Hnnfg, Minho, Minho, please, I don’t, I can’t-“

Minho leans over you more then, his eyes dark and half-lidded when he stares into yours. His gaze is all-consuming, but there’s a slight hint of a teasing smile on his lips. “Jesus, kitty. Be quiet,” His voice is low, amused, until all signs of a smile drop from his face upon his fingers finally delving into your underwear. His forearm obscures your vision, muscled and veiny, but you can feel the way your wetness immediately drenches his fingertips. His eyes flicker from your face to your core in awe, lips slightly parted. “Fuckin- shit. Jagi, tell me this is a joke. You’re fucking drenched.”

You are. His fingers smear around in your wetness, spreading it all around your folds. He drags his middle and ring finger down to your hole, wet and sloppy, and you look at him with pleading eyes. You’re not sure you could talk even if you wanted to.

Minho simply smiles that toothy smile that you love, eyes crinkling. You’re confused - he’s being nice - until he’s shoving both fingers into you at once. It was a stretch you hadn't been prepared for, and you jolt with a squeal, hands going up to grip onto his forearm.

“Do you remember what I said before, jagi?” He muses, fingers curling up into that spot that makes you whine. You do whine, legs thrashing around and toes curling against the sheets. “If you have any in there, I’m fucking having it. I want you to piss all over my cock before I fuck you with it, remember? I want you to treat you like the dirty little thing you are.”

You nod, brain still fuzzy and way too overwhelmed. Your pussy squelches loudly around his digits, and his spare hand wraps around your throat in a dangerous grip. It’s not too hard, but definitely there, and you whimper in approval.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the pace he sets against your g-spot, and after a brief, tight squeeze, Minho removes his hand from your throat in favour of using two fingers on your clit along with his harsh fingering. His arm is curled underneath your waist in a position that must be painful to him, but you ignore it in favour of your own pleasure.

You feel like you could scream, and you do let out some strangled noise that sounds nothing at all like you. Just when you think it can’t get any worse - or any better, actually - he slides another finger in, stretching you out with three of his digits. You’re dripping down onto his knuckles and you wail, starting to hump against his hand. You’re going to cum embarrassingly quickly.

“You better be fucking thinking of asking for permission, bitch,” Minho hisses in your ear. You moan in response, nodding. Of course you’ll ask. Something about your boyfriend just makes you want to be good. You want to obey him so he continues to give you such nice things. “You don’t make the decisions. I'm the one fucking that hole with my fingers right now, I'll be the one who says you can cum.”

His fingers thrust into you faster, if it was possible, and you thrash around. The movement brings Minho’s cock against your thigh, and you gasp at the realisation that he’s next to you, naked, in all his glory. Your fingernails still dig painfully into his forearm, but he doesn’t seem phased. “Minho, Minho- I’m gon’- please, please, please, I wanna cum, let me come, it hurts, I-“

“Oh, I know, I know. It just feels too good, doesn’t it? You can’t even fucking control yourself, writhing around like that,” He groans, eyes fixated on your face. You know your expression is screwed up in pleasure, eyes watering from the feeling of his fingers inside of you. His fingers begin to slide around on your clit rather than provide any direct pressure due to how wet you’re getting, but you still hump against the sensation with gratitude. You’d never have anything other than gratitude when Minho’s being so nice like this. “You’re behaving like a fucking whore. Beg me for it. Beg me to let a fucking whore like you cum all over my fingers, tell me how good it feels.”

He starts kissing up your neck again with the open-mouthed, wet movements, and you feel like you’re about to burst. Just a little more. Just a little more, and you can, you just have to will your brain to speak. “I-I love sir's fingers, fuck, I love when sir fingers me like this- fuck, sir I'm gonna- can't hold it- I, hnng, I can’t, I don’t- pleasepleaseplease-”

Minho pulls away from your neck with an alarmed little snort. “Sir? God, you are far gone,” He points out, but then he’s pinching your clit meanly with his fingers. It makes you hump his hand a little faster and whine a little louder. It’s quiet for a beat, and then he’s sighing as if he’s annoyed. You swear you catch him rolling his eyes through your blurry vision. “Okay, fine. Go on then, if you want to cum so badly. Cum.”

With one word, you feel like your whole world is falling apart. A gush of wetness bursts from you and all over the bed, probably soaking Minho too. Your ears are ringing and you can feel the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall, fat streaks of wetness painting your skin. His fingers don’t slow, but he’s groaning in your ear now, coaching you along. He pulls his fingers out, rubbing over your clit with a wet hand that only made you let out another gush everywhere. You were sure you'd screamed.

You wail and thrash through your orgasm, and then you’re panting, body dropping back onto the bed. You don’t register Minho groaning, licking his fingers clean - you only realise he’s moved when he’s on top of you, yanking your soaking wet underwear down your legs and finally unclasping your bra. Your hands go above your head, pliant and willing, letting him take control. You’re fucked dumb by now, anyway. You’d be no use.

“If you had all that in there for me, you have some piss in there,” He muses, and you whine, shaking your head.

“D’nt need to pee, Min,” You insist, head lolling back on the sheets. You’re pliant, and Minho grabs your chin with his hand, making you face him. His ears are burning a shade of delectable pink, the flush travelling over his chest and making him look almost embarrassed. You know this state of Minho all too well, though. He’s so horny he feels like he’s about to explode.

“You do,” He responds, quick as a flash. You whimper as he presses his cockhead into your folds, just barely teasing the ruddy, flushed tip at your hole. Your hands move to grip onto the sheets next to your head, and just when you’re sure he’s going to put it in, Minho leans down, and then his hand is pressing on the bottom of your stomach. You wail, shaking your head. Minho chuckles knowingly. “You need to piss, don’t you?”

You do. Embarrassingly quickly, just from him pressing on your bladder. “I- it’ll make a mess, Min, I can’t, I can’t-”

“I want it to make a fucking mess,” He scoffs, pressing harder. He continues to drag his cock through your sopping wet folds with his other hand, his feline eyes staring at you with a renewed fire burning behind them. He’s daring you to disobey. You would never disobey him. “I want everything you have to give me. Piss all over my cock. Do it.”

You clench your thighs, stomach tensing. It doesn’t take much, only a slight rubbing of Minho’s hand on your tummy and you’re pissing. The stream erupts from you in a messy spurt, and Minho groans, pumping his cock to coat it in your mess. You whine, trying to shift your hips to catch his cock inside of you, but the mess you’re making ensures that it’s too slippery to do so.

“Stay still, you’ll get it in a second,” Minho mumbles, hand tightening around the head of his cock. It’s substantially lubed now, but he still continues to pump it, hand easing up on your stomach. Something about it has your mouth watering, staring at his cock and wondering how it tastes. Maybe he’ll let you suck it clean next time, let you taste his cock mixed with your own piss. “That’s it, kitty. Get sir’s cock nice and wet with your piss. Dirty little thing.”

When the stream finally finishes, you shift against the sheets, soaking wet and definitely a lot more aroused than you were previously. There’s still only one thing on your mind. “Can- can I have it now, please, please?”

Minho nods, his cheeks blazing red. He’s losing his composure. “Yeah. God, yeah, kitty. You can have it, c’mere,” He sighs, finally pushing the head of his cock inside of you. It slides inside easily with the wetness of your pussy and the mess you’d made on him, his thick shaft stretching you out and making you moan out for him. You catch sight of Minho’s eyes rolling back into his head, a long, drawn out noise leaving his lips. “Fuck, this is so fucking dirty. You’re filthy, letting me do this.”

No. You’re not, are you? Are you dirty? “Filthy?” You question, completely in bliss at the feeling of him finally inside you. You’ll be filthy if it means he’ll fuck you. Minho chuckles, and then his hips start to move, a sinuous grind against yours. The noises your pussy is making are beyond debauched, wet, slapping sounds from how soaking wet you are. You whine, bucking your hips up, and Minho lets you, gripping your hips to pull you off of the mattress.

“I’m gonna go harder, okay? I want you to take it for me, all of it,” His voice is close, leaning down to whisper it against the skin of your neck. You nod eagerly, and he pulls your thighs up to rest your ankles on his shoulders. The change in position has his cock hitting you deeper and you gasp, fingers moving to grip on his biceps. He sits back slightly, pulling you closer to him, and then he’s pounding into you. With little to no buildup, you can’t help but squeal, your pussy gushing around his fat length. “You love this, don’t you? My cock, covered in your piss, stretching your little cunt out. You love being filthy for me.”

“Hhnnfg, hhng, Min, Min, Min, you made me pee, you-”

Minho scoffs, hand threading into your hair. He wraps your hair around his fist and pulls, bent half over you while he pounds your pussy into oblivion. “Don’t make stupid fucking excuses for yourself. I can see it in your eyes, you love being like this for me.”

You whine, tears brimming in your eyes again uncontrollably. You can’t do anything but just lay there, pliant and gripping onto his biceps for him to stretch your pussy out with his veiny fucking cock. It feels almost too good, too overwhelming. The ridges of his shaft are pressing against your walls, causing a delectable friction that has you clenching down on every outwards motion from him. It’s as if your pussy doesn’t want him to leave, and you don’t want him to leave, pulling him close by his arms every time he thrusts inside of you.

Minho pushes your thighs apart, and then he’s bending you into a sort of mating press. Your legs rest on his upper biceps and his body folds you in half for him, making you whine at the stretch on your muscles. You’re loud, embarrassingly so, little “ah, ah, ah”’s leaving your mouth with every thrust. The change in position allows him to hit your cervix with his length, long and throbbing inside of you, and you’re only louder and more pathetic for him.

“Can you hear that, kitty cat?” He whispers, and you hold your breath. Once you’ve stopped making so much noise, you can hear it - the sound of your pussy is even louder, wet and messy and when you look down, his cock is soaking with you. With your piss or your slick, you’re not sure, but it has you clenching down deliciously anyway. “I’m fucking your own piss into you, and you’re whining like a little bitch.”

You can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. Your previous slight fuzziness has morphed into full blown floating, and you think you’re crying, but you’re not sure. All you can hear is your own noises, loud and desperate while he ensures your pussy never forgets the shape of his cock. “Ah, ah, I don’t- sir, I don’t, I can’t, I don’t know- ah, oh, I can’t-”

“Ah, fucking hell,” Minho hisses, gritting his teeth. You watch in disappointment as he pulls his cock out of you, forming a tight ring around the base with his fingers. “I need to cum inside you. I need to give you your milk, kitty cat, c’mon. Flip over for me.”

He tells you to do it, but helps you anyway. You feel his hands go to your hips to flip you over, and then you’re face down, and some part of you finds the strength to push your hips up to present your pussy for him. But, milk? You’ve been good enough for that?

He sinks back inside you, his cock slick and fat and too much for your little pussy. “There you go, jagi. Biiig stretch, feel it,” He moans, and you push your hips back on him easily. In this position, your lips are parted and you can feel yourself drooling up a puddle on the sheets. It adds to the mess, filthy with piss and slick and sweat, and you want Minho to lick it all up and spit it in your mouth. He immediately resumes his punishing pace, hips slapping against your ass with every thrust and hitting that delicious spot inside you so well. “Fuckin’ tight pussy, ah, it’s so good.”

“H- haa, Minho, have I been good?” You question, eyes blurry and bottom lip slick with your own spit. Minho groans, deep and loud, reverberating through your whole body. He knows you need reassurance, and he nods, a little smile on his face despite his lust-filled, half-lidded eyes.

“You’ve been so good. So good I’m giving you my cum, yeah? Gonna breed that little pussy, filled it with your piss already, needs my cum now,” He’s babbling, which is a sure sign that he’s close - but you can’t even fathom it in your state. “Little girl, kitty cat, so good for me, c’mere.”

You don’t move, but Minho slinks one hand around your hip to rub at your clit. The added pleasure has you jolting with a whine, and Minho lets out an amused puff of air at your reaction. His fingers slide around your clit wet and imprecise, but it’s enough to have you hurtling towards your second orgasm. His cockhead slams against your g-spot, bordering on painful, but the sensation only adds to the throes of bliss he has you tumbling through.

“Min, Min, Min, it’s- ‘s so good, so good, so big, so- Min, Min, I g’ta-”

“You can cum whenever, jagi. Give it to me, I want it,” His voice is higher, more desperate, and you nod eagerly. He sidles over your back, his sweaty chest pressed to your skin, and then he’s pressing his lips against yours.

It’s less of a kiss and more of a messy exchange of spit and breathing into each other's mouths. Minho’s tongue slides against yours as he continues to rub messy circles around your clit, and before you know it, you’re cumming around his cock with a sharp gasp of pleasure against his lips. He swallows your noises, finally engulfing your mouth with his, and you moan and sigh freely through gushing all over his length, the electric feeling making your toes curl.

Minho envelops your hair tightly with his spare hand, thrusting harder and faster, his breathing becoming ragged as he approaches his climax. With a broken whine, you feel his cum fill you up, thick and hot and heavy.

He flops on top of you with a sigh, his body weight a welcome presence for you. You ignore the feeling of the sheets beneath you in favour of closing your eyes and humming contentedly. You’re still floating, but it’s calmer now, softer. It feels like you’re on a cloud. “So good, Min.”

“Yeah?” Minho grins, his hand now stroking softly through your hair in favour of yanking on it. “You did so good for me, jagi. You were so, so good, made me cum so hard.”

“You made me cum hard, too,” You respond, opening one eye to see his face over your shoulder. His cheeks are flushed, hair sweaty and floppy over his eyes, but he has a blissed out smile on his face. When he catches sight of you looking at him, he smiles, and the sight of his bunny teeth has your heart singing. How can he look so cute after fucking you like that? Before you can say anything else, you yawn, and Minho giggles. “‘M sleepy.”

“Bath first, jagi,” He coos, kissing your hairline. “My sweet girl. Let’s get you nice and clean and then we’ll nap.”

“Mm, okay,” Minho hops off of you and you stretch out leisurely like a cat, your body sticky and defiled. You hear him tinkering around the room behind you, humming a tune to himself, and you smile fondly. “Love you, Min.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

#juno's fics ♡#lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho fanfiction #lee know x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #skz smut #PISS!

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ohbabydollie · 5 months ago

Note

Can you write a fic where the cats catch you and schlatt having sex and he feels really bad bur you're still in the mood so he has to lock them out whilst he's still naked or something funny

It had been silently agreed upon by the both of you, that Schlatt was the one to shut the door when your “sessions” started.

He had gotten used to the familiar quiet click of the door’s back in your Texas apartment, the minimal strength needed to close the door that when you moved to New York he hadn’t gotten quite adjusted to the strength the doors required, but he learned real fast.

———

“There we go” Schlatt mumbled, finishing the final screw in the bed, shaking it slightly before calling you in, “sweetheart, come ‘ere”

“Yeah, what’s up?” You ask as you enter the bedroom.

“Come shake to bed, just to make sure it ain’t too loose” he mumbles as he stands up.

You hum, taking off your slippers as you sit on the bed before bouncing slightly, “I think it should be good”

“Ya sure? Try it some more” he says watching the way your tits bounce slightly.

You scoot to the edge of the bed, planting your heels in the floor before trying to move harder, Schlatt just stands there, staring at your tits as you try to bounce as hard as you can.

“Yknow what, maybe we can test it in a different way” he grins, shutting the door until he hears a little familiar click.

Suddenly he’s on top of you as you moan into his mouth, gently holding onto his forearms before he strips you of your shirt.

“look at these” he mumbles, gently cupping your tits, “perfect” he says squeezing them gently, drawing a shaky whine from you.

“Schlatt” you mumble as he grins.

“What, you don’t like me grabbin at ‘em?” He asks, gently playing with your nipples, smiling wider at your little reactions.

“N-not that” you manage to choke, your brain going fuzzy at the way he touches you, knowing the right way to push your buttons, the right way to just make your brain go dumb as you lie back, forgetting what you were going to even ask.

You feel something fuzzy brush up against your leg, but quickly ignore it, thinking it’s probably some clothes or a sheet. Almost in the blink of an eye you’re both naked and so close to the main event, soft pants and moans between kisses and suddenly ‘meow’

You push Schlatt away, your eyes widening as you see jambo and [redacted] sitting there, the door cracked open just enough for them to slip in.

“SCHLATT! THE CATS!” You yell moving away, covering your body with a blanket.

“Oh shit” he mumbles, turning to see the cats staring at him, his eyes dart around the room, looking for something to cover himself up with.

As quick as you noticed the cats is as quick as Schlatt is shooing them out of the room, leading them to the living room with a shirt held up against his crotch as you start to laugh.

You’re not laughing at Schlatt, more at the predicament you’ve found yourself in, your boyfriend shooing his cats out of your bedroom with his ass out.

I’m sorry if this is ass, I haven’t written in a while 💔

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #dollie shitposts #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader smut #schlatt smut #schlatt x reader smut #jschlatt fanfic

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antithetical-bolter · 5 days ago

Text

Out Of The Woods

Chapter 1

Shoutout to @antisocialfiore for helping me with the title!! This is my first fic I’ve posted to tumblr so any tips on how to keep chapters organized and whatnot would be lovely. Hang in there while I figure it out lmao. Chapter 2 is written and will be posted shortly <3

5.0k words | Seasoned ER nurse Iris McDowell finds herself pregnant after a one night stand with Robby, who is predictably handling things very poorly.

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, discussion of abortions, excessive use of the word fuck, commas, and em dashes.

Tag list: @antisocialfiore @snowflames-world @eviemonroeer

Page dividers by: @cafekitsune

Iris

Well, shit.

That is most definitely two pink lines.

On three different tests. Iris Elizabeth McDowell, you fucking idiot.

Just my fucking luck, that getting tipsy and fucking the very hot and very emotionally unavailable attending would result in a god damn pregnancy. I’d been blissfully ignorant the last 3 weeks - my periods have never been all that regular but as soon as the nausea and the sore boobs hit I knew it was time to face the music. And sure enough, the music was telling me that I was pregnant. With Michael Robinavitch’s baby.

Robby, who has barely made eye contact with me past what was required for patient care since it happened. Robby, who let it slip at the bar that he had been interested in me for months now. Robby, who I was unfortunately in love with. Had been for an embarrassingly long time now - so him up and leaving the morning after the best sex of my life triggered a full blown crisis. Almost a decade of pining, all for one (admittedly spectacular) night. The whole debacle had me briefly considering finding a new ER to work at, but I decided I wouldn’t let a man dictate my life. Even if it was that man.

Do I want to keep it? I think so? Should I want to keep it? Probably not.

It’s not like I’m some young new grad nurse who doesn’t have a career. I’ve been an ER nurse for more than ten years now, working at the Pitt for all but the first two. I’m damn good at my job, so much so that I occasionally fill in for the charge nurses, and I have a great support system. But the thought of having to tell Robby that I’m carrying his child? Genuinely makes me want to puke. Again.

I have money, a 2 bedroom condo, a regular enough schedule that daycare wouldn’t be an issue. But do I really want to be a single mom? Put my body through the fucking wild ride that is pregnancy? Oh god. Pregnancy scrubs? The absolute worst. Not to mention actually giving birth.

Thankfully, the universe has seen fit to give me a single win in all this, and I have the next 4 days off to figure out how to be normal at work again. First order of business - call my OB. A brief phone call later, I have an appointment for 9:45. Just over two hours from now.

Fuck, I could really use my mom right now. Not like we were ever super close, with her living on the west coast and me getting the fuck out of my tiny ass hometown right after high school, but I’d like the option to call her and freak out. Both her and my dad were killed in a car accident just over three years ago, and somehow this scenario had never crossed my mind. I have an older brother who lives back home in Washington, but we have very different works views and I highly doubt he would be a good source of familial support. Cue the tears - but they feel cathartic. A release I desperately need right now.

My therapist is going to lose her ever-loving mind. A quick look on her patient portal reveals that she has an opening this afternoon, so I guess that makes 2 wins from the universe for me today. I’ll take what I can get.

I am very picky about my medical providers. Working in the field myself means I have seen some shit doctors, and I just flat out refuse to put my care in the hands of someone I don’t trust. My OB is the best of the best, and she’s really earning her copay right now.

The transvaginal ultrasound was quick, confirming that I definitely have something cooking in there. The tech asked if I wanted to hear the heartbeat - but I said no. I’m right at the six week mark so a heartbeat can be heard at this point but I am not ready for that just yet. Not until I decide what I want to do. My OB, bless her, ran me through all of my options. She knows I know them, I’m an ER nurse after all, but it’s like all my schooling and experience fell out of my brain the second the stick(s) turned pink.

She encouraged me to take my time making a decision, since I have a few weeks to make a choice either way. We went through what it would look like to keep, terminate, and adopt. Having all the information laid out in front of me makes me feel both better and far, far worse.

She also tells me that no matter what the father wants, this is my choice. That I should lean on my people, and find someone I trust to tell. That if I do decide to terminate, I need to have someone with me after I take the medications to make sure everything progresses as it should.

I leave the appointment armed with 4 different pamphlets and 3 sonogram images that I have yet to look at.

Therapy is significantly harder. Erica, bless her, has been my therapist since I moved to Pittsburgh for college when I was 18. She knows me far too well - immediately clocks that it must be hard to be dealing with all of this without my mom’s support, which triggers a crying spell. Once I’ve recovered from that we move on to how I’m going to tell Robby.

“I don’t know, Erica. He’s barely looked at me since we slept together, I can count the non-patient related words he’s said to me since then on one hand and none of them were particularly nice.” That man needs therapy more than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s an incredible doctor and great to his friends, but ever since he fucked up his relationship with Collins so badly that she left the state he’s been especially moody.

“How do you think he’s going to react to this?”

“Not particularly well. He’ll freak out, not speak to me for a few days, and then inevitably come back around and say that he’ll help me with whatever I choose. I know that if I decide to keep it that he would help, but that it would be out of obligation and that is not what I want. I would never keep him away from his kid but I can almost guarantee that I would be eternally fucked up over it.” Erica nods thoughtfully, taking a pause to formulate a reply that won’t send me over the edge.

“Maybe you should start by telling someone else, then. Maybe Samira, or Dana? Someone who will support you unconditionally without any emotional baggage taking up space in the back seat. They could help you decide what to say when you tell him, and support you if it goes as poorly as you think it will.” She gives me a very pointed look before continuing. “Also, and really think about this before brushing it off, maybe this conversation between you and Robby will help you both. A push that requires communication where there is a gap right now.”

“I - I, ugh. I just really, really don’t want to have to do this with him. He really hurt me when he just up and fucking ghosted me. Especially because he spent the whole night prior telling me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months, and a whole bunch of other shit that he clearly didn’t mean.” He doesn’t seem like the type to spout bullshit to get a woman into bed with him, but I really cannot come up with another reason for him to be acting this way.

“It’s fair and reasonable for you to be scared. And if he screws this up, you have my blessing to tell him to fuck off. But no matter what you choose, you will be okay. It might suck for a while, but you will come out the other side.” The unspoken words are loud - that I will be okay but that it’s going to take a while for me to get there.

“I know you’re right but it’s hard to see right now.” Pretty much impossible, actually.

“That’s okay, I’m here to remind you. Your homework this week is to tell someone you trust.” Sad that I don’t consider the father someone I trust, but he definitely is not making that list right now.

“I’m going to call Dana literally as soon as we hang up - Samira’s working right now.” She nods in response, flashes me what I’m sure is supposed to be a reassuring smile but it just doesn’t land. We schedule an appointment for next week and then we hang up. I give myself 10 minutes to spiral before I pick up the phone and call Dana.

Dana picks up her phone on the third ring.

“Hey, kid! Where are ya?” I can hear the sounds of what is likely a bar or restaurant in the background and belatedly realize that there’s ER social plans today - most of day shift is gathered at the sports bar near the hospital to watch the first Penguins game of the regular season. Hockey is one of the few sports I will watch voluntarily, and I definitely told Dana I would try and make it out tonight.

“Shit, Dana. I totally spaced, had a bit of a personal crisis. Can I call you later? When you aren’t surrounded by our coworkers?” I hear a booming laugh in the background and immediately place it as Robby’s. Because of course he’s there. “Can you just, uh - text me when you leave the bar?”

“Hold up, Iris, wait. Are you okay?” Her voice changes, drops lower and sounds muffled. Like she’s covering her mouth while she speaks in an effort to afford me some privacy. She knows something happened between Robby and I, and has had a front row seat to whatever the fuck is going on right now so she’s sensitive to the fact that I might not want him knowing about said personal crisis. Little does she fucking know that he’s going to be quite privy to the details when I’m no longe actively in a state of crisis.

“I mean, okay is not really the word I would use but I’m safe and not currently in any physical danger.” Very much not okay, but I don’t want to make her change her plans for me. It’s so rare that we’re all able to see each other outside the Pitt and I know she values this time with her friends.

“Iris, honey. What’s wrong?” I don’t answer, but I do start to cry. My best efforts at keeping my sobs quiet are unsuccessful. “Oh fuck, you know what, never mind, I’m just gonna come over. Hang tight, okay?” I hear the screech of a chair as she presumably scoots back and stands up. Her voice is quieter as she speaks next, having moved the phone so she can talk to whoever else is at the table. “Change of plans, guys. I have to go. Enjoy the game and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The crying has not slowed in the thirty seconds it takes her to get outside.

“Dana, really, I appreciate it but you can stay and finish the game. I can wait.” I must not convince her, because she laughs at me. Fairly so, given that my words are very much broken up by sobs.

“Absolutely not. I’m on my way, I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

She arrives in eight.

I’m waiting by the door, and open it before she has a chance to knock. I’m still crying - no longer sobbing, but a pretty steady stream of tears track their way down my cheeks. I see the question forming on her lips but I beat her to it and hold out my three positive tests for her to see.

“Are we happy? Shopping? Making an appointment at the clinic?” Classic Dana - no big reaction, just thoughtful statements of action. Unfortunately I don’t know what I want.

“I don’t know yet. Took the tests early this morning and was able to get in last minute to see OB to confirm it. I’m just about 6 weeks along and I have no fucking clue what I want to do.” She closes the door behind her and immediately pulls me into a tight hug. Rubs my back with one hand and runs the other through my hair, tells me that it’s okay to not know what I want and that she’s here for me no matter what. Does not ask me who the father is. Unfortunately that is the biggest piece to this puzzle and I know I need to tell her.

We move to my couch and she makes me drink some water before continuing to fill her in. I decide it’s best to just fucking do it - no preamble and no backstory.

“Robby’s the father.” That stops her in her tracks for a second. Her eyes go wide and I can tell she’s working extremely hard to keep her own emotions under wraps.

“Well, shit. So that ‘thing’ that happened between you guys in September was sex?” I nod. “And, let me hazard a guess here, he freaked the fuck out and now he’s unable to act normal around you.” I nod again.

“That about sums it up. He left before I woke up and any effort I made to talk to him about it ended with him getting snippy and walking away from me. My texts went unanswered so I just stopped trying.”

“What an asshole - I’m so sorry, Iris.” She leans over to pull me into another hug. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I mean I kinda have to, don’t I? Would be a real dick move of me to not tell him about this. Even if he doesn’t deserve me speaking to him ever again.”

“I think that depends on what you decide you want to do. If you want to keep it, then yeah you’re gonna have to tell him. But if you don’t, then we go to the clinic this week and he remains none the wiser. Either choice is okay, whatever you decide to do will be the right decision for you.” I take a deep breath, enjoying having her here to support me.

“See that’s the thing, my first instinct is that I want to keep it. I’ve always thought that I could go either way on having kids, but now that it’s staring me in the face I can’t imagine not going through with it.” Saying it out loud all but confirms my decision - this is happening. I’m going to have a baby. And I’m going to have to tell Robby.

“Then that’s what will happen. I’ve got your back through all of it, and if you want me to hide upstairs while you tell Robby I can do that. I’ll even chase him out if he acts a fool.” She’s serious, and I love her for that.

“Might not be a terrible idea. The last thing I want is for him to be involved purely out of obligation.” I debate stopping there, not divulging the depths of my (extremely unadvised) feelings for him, but I’ve already gone this far so what’s the harm in spilling the whole story. “I’m like, stupidly in love with that man. Have been for a long time, and I was happy to have it kinda live in the background of my life up until recently. He approached me at that party we had for Jesse and we hit it off, and he was really sweet. Told me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months and that he hasn’t been able to get me out of his head. We each had a few drinks, but I wasn’t drunk. A little tipsy for sure, but sober enough to consent and be smart about it. We even used a fucking condom! Then he was gone when I woke up and you’ve seen how he’s been since then.” She grimaces a little before responding.

“Yeah, he’s been in rare Robby form. Very broody. But, Iris, I really think he meant what he told you. Handled it terribly for sure, but he’s so thoroughly fucked up in the past that his ex literally left the state. He’s probably just trying to protect you in his own, very fucked up way.” I laugh and try to wipe away the tears staining my face, but they just keep coming.

“Well he’s doing a terrible job. Is it crazy of me to make him go to therapy before I let him really be involved? Is that, like, blackmailing?” The last thing I want out of all this is for my kid to be hurt in the same way - their dad hot and cold, unable to really make a commitment to be present in their life.

“Maybe a bit, but I fully support you in that. I actually think that’s plenty reasonable, and if he gives you pushback then he’ll hear about it from me.” So quick to jump in and support me, even when the problem is one of her best and longest friends. “If it makes you feel any better, the second I said your name at the bar earlier he looked like he was two seconds away from taking my phone and checking on you himself.” A mirthful laugh escapes me at that - it does not make me feel better.

“Then blackmail it is. Now, how the fuck am I supposed to have this conversation with him when I can’t even get him to say three consecutive words to me that aren’t directly work related?”

We spend the next hour brainstorming, and by the time she leaves I feel better. I have a loose plan, my tear ducts have long since run dry, and I no longer feel like I’m about to majorly fuck my whole life up.

I make myself a list before I go to sleep - things I need to buy for first trimester health, food I should avoid, and symptoms I’ve been experiencing so I can be as informed as possible.

My list exhausts me (that, and the tiny human I’m currently forming) and I fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I spend the next few days making more lists. Baby names, furniture, birth plans. If there’s a relevant list to be made - it’s currently up on my fridge.

My first day back at work since The Event (TM) is fine, I guess. Dana greets me with a hug and a quiet check in, and while this isn’t that out of the ordinary it is unusual that she pulls me off the floor to do it. I feel Robby’s eyes track us as we walk back in from the ambulance bay, especially when we get closer and Dana does not smell like she’s just come back from a smoke break.

I treat Robby to his own taste of the silent treatment. No niceties, no attempts at small talk. Strictly patient care and work related conversations, and honestly conversations is a generous word. Terse exchanges is more accurate. Not even a polite smile in his direction. I don’t let it get in the way of my job, and if I do say so myself I really knock it out of the park nursing wise. Even escaping to the bathroom a few times per shift to puke doesn’t get in the way of my determination to keep up my ‘everything is fine’ facade.

Three shifts pass in this manner, three shifts where I can feel him fucking watching me like he knows something is up. Thirty-six hours of me sitting on the biggest fucking secret I’ve ever kept when all I really want to do is yell “Hey, fuckface! You ghosted me and it sucked, and I’m fucking angry about. By the way, I’m pregnant with your child. Get some god damn therapy if you’d like to be involved!” And then walk out, middle fingers up, leaving him to stand with the aftermath of his actions.

But, unfortunately, I am a professional adult so I don’t do that. I do heavily fantasize about it though.

Samira notices that something is up right away, but she is also on a long stretch of shifts so we agree to hang out when our work weeks are both done. We meet for breakfast (at 8pm) at the closest Denny’s and she spits out her coffee when I tell her that not only did I sleep with Robby, but that there’s going to be literal life long consequences for it come early June.

“Oh my god. I would ask if you’re okay, but I think I can answer that myself. When are you going to tell him?” I shrug as I finish my bite of French toast.

“Great question. He’s been fucking frosty with me lately and it doesn’t have me feeling very generous towards him. I know he deserves to know but god the thought of that conversation makes me want to punch a wall.” Another bite of toast. “I know that a few weeks after we slept together was the anniversary of Pitt Fest and Adamson’s death, but the way he’s been treating me does not make me want to tell him. It makes me want to be spiteful and keep it from him until the last possible second, so he can be as blindsided as I feel right now. Very immature of me and I won’t do that but it’s nice to entertain it for a bit.”

“He’s clearly fumbling the bag pretty hard right now, but you and I both know he’s going to do the right thing.”

“I know, and that’s almost worse. If he’s going to be all emotionally constipated while attempting to be present I am going to lose my shit. Dana said she thinks I am well within my rights to threaten him with therapy, so I think that’s my game plan.”

“That’s - that’s actually a great idea. If anything will get that man into therapy it’s the threat of potentially fucking up his child’s life.” She chuckles a bit. “Can I tell Jack? I will obviously swear him to secrecy but it might be nice to have him in your corner.”

“Please do - but if he tells Robby before I do I will kill him.”

“And I will help you hide the body. Also, he’s picking me up from this meal so if you’d like to fill him in yourself you’re about to have your window.” Like she summoned him, Jack Abbot walks in the door. He immediately finds Samira and she waves him over.

I decide that I do not have another long, emotional story in me and just spit it out.

“Hi, Jack.” He looks at me a little weird, we’re friendly at work but I don’t think I’ve ever called him by his first name before. “Welcome to the party, you’re about to hear some very classified information so prepare yourself.” He stares at me, a little stunned, but I just keep on talking. “I’m pregnant and keeping it. Robby’s the father, but I haven’t told him yet.” His jaw drops open, and he has to open and close it a few times before actual words come out.

“Uhhh, wow. Fuck. Are you, uhm, are you going to tell him?”

“I mean, yeah. Not sure when or how, but yeah. What’s your opinion on me using this as an opportunity to threaten him into therapy?” This gets a loud, genuine laugh from him.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. You want my therapists number? I’ve given it to him multiple times but he’s clearly never used it.” Abbot doesn’t wait for me to answer, just pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Are you doing okay? Managing symptoms alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks. Freaking the fuck out, but okay.” With that, I decide I’ve had enough social interaction for the day. “Now that all that’s out of the way, I’m going to head home. Samira, love you, thanks for the support, and Jack I’m a little sorry to drag you into all this but thankful that you’re here anyway.” I leave them at that, dropping enough cash to cover my meal and all but running to my car so I can have my next meltdown in peace.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I let another two full weeks pass before I even consider telling Robby. Erica, Dana, and Samira are all on my case a little bit but ultimately don’t push me too hard. My OB and therapist have both been informed that I’ve decided to continue the pregnancy, and the appropriate follow up appointments have been scheduled.

It takes an extra long session with Erica, complete with roll play and multiple outcomes of the conversation for me to feel even slightly ready to broach the subject with him. We decide that I’ll attempt to talk to him after our next shift together, a rare night where neither of us have to be in the next morning.

Dana knows, and as she leaves out the ambulance bay doors she shoots me a very encouraging thumbs up and a ‘call me!’ While I wait for him to leave. I don’t have to wait much longer. 10 minutes pass before I see him walk out, backpack slung over his shoulders and thick winter jacket thrown on like it’s armor. He doesn’t turn his head to look at me as he passes.

I parked at the very end of the lot today, hoping to use my car as an excuse to follow him for a bit. As we approach my green Honda CRV, I know it’s time to bite the bullet.

“Hey, uh, Robby? Can we talk for a sec?” He pauses, takes an AirPod out, and turns to face me. He looks like shit. Tired, like he hasn’t had a good sleep in weeks. I feel mean for thinking it, but I’m glad he’s getting just as much (little?) rest as I am.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, Iris. Now’s not a good time.” He may be facing me, but he’s not really looking at me. Fucking infuriating.

“It won’t take long, please. It’s kinda important.” Fuck him for making me plead to have a conversation - this is starting to feel a little humiliating. I can feel the tears forming and threatening to spill out, but he isn’t looking at me so he doesn’t see them.

“Not now. There isn’t really anything for us to talk about. I have to go, I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s got his AirPod back in and is walking away. Fucking dick. The hot sting of rejection sits heavy in my chest, and I have to take a few minutes before I feel steady enough to drive home.

I work myself up pretty well on the way home, moving from shame to anger. I kick my shoes off in the entryway and slam my bag down, feeling like I need to scream. I decide a run will suffice and quickly change into my running gear. As I slip on my shoes and grab my running belt I decide there’s something I need to do first, and pull my phone out to send the riskiest text I’ve ever sent.

Iris (7:58pm)

Hi, asshole. I have been working up the nerve to talk to you for weeks, but since I apparently don’t deserve even five minutes of your time I guess this is how you’re going to find out.

I attach a picture of the tests and hit send, and then immediately send a follow up.

Iris (7:59pm)

Before you have the fucking audacity to ask, yes it’s yours and I’ll be keeping it.

I immediately put my phone on do not disturb and start my watch so I can track my run. I hit the pavement with a vengeance. My feet feel heavy beneath me, and it takes me longer than usual to feel warmed up enough to really run. I blast my angriest playlist, and run until I no longer feel like murdering the father of my unborn child.

I hit my favorite smoothie place on my way home, and call Dana as I walk and warm down.

“So I told him.” She gasps. “But, uh, over text. I tried to talk to him as he left but he blew me off and I was just so fucking angry and maybe jumped the gun a little, but it’s done now. I went for a run as soon as I got home, I’m walking back to my place as we speak.”

“How are you feeling about it, hon?”

“Terrified. Have not checked to see if he’s responded. Maybe a little elated? But like, in a manic way so maybe that’s not a good thing.” Dana laughs and reassures me.

“It’s alright, kid. That’s a big step you just took and you tried to do it in person, so fuck it. You want me to come over?” She asks, just as I turn the corner onto my street. My heart all but stops as I see an unfortunately familiar suburban parked in front of my house, and my breathing stops with it when I see that the man himself is sitting on my front steps.

“Oh fuck.”

“He’s at your house, isn’t he?” She’s far too smart for her own good, or maybe she just knows him too well.

“Yup.” God dammit, past Iris. Did you really have to send those texts?

“I can still come over if you want.” Seriously considering taking her up on that.

“No, I’ll handle him. But, maybe later? If and when I need to cry about this?”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone. You’ve got this, kid. Give him hell.”

#the Pitt fanfic #the Pitt fanfiction #michael robby robinavitch #Robby x ofc #Robby x original female character #Dana Evans #Jack Abbot #Samira Mohan #jack x samira

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

Text

Just Friends: Isn't It Fun?

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You make a new friend.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You hum as you come up the walk of your building. It isn’t in the best location. In the dark, it’s scarier as a shadow overhangs the door beneath the awning. You reach into your knapsack, hanging from one shoulder, as you eke out the tune to Easy Street offkey.

As your keys jingle, a shape pops out of the bushes and you scream, throwing the keyring as you turn to sprint back down the pavement. You’re caught from behind as a familiar chuckle rolls up into the moonlit sky. You grunt and elbow Bucky as you realise the trick he’s pulled.

“Ah, why would you do that?” You wriggle until he lets you go.

You face him and try to snarl but you’re so relieved it’s just him, you can’t help but smile.

“Just having some fun. At your expense,” he chuckles and bends to pick up the keys. “Can I give you some advice, dreamy?” He raises your keys and holds them so one points between his fingers. “Keep your keys out, hold em like this and if some creep jumps out of the bushes, stab em good.”

“Stab-- Buck,” you shake your head. “I can’t do that.”

“You can if it’s life or death,” he swings the keys around to hang from his thick fingers, “here.”

“What-- what are you even doing here?”

“Huh. You didn’t let me ask my question first,” he huffs as he stands back and waves you past. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working late?”

“Well, firstly, you got lots going on,” you say. “And I didn’t think of it. I’m fine.”

“Fine, I could be a real bad guy waiting for you out here in the dark,” he taunts.

“But you’re not. So now my turn, why are you here?”

“Well, I was wandering by on my way to see a Buster Keaton marathon and thought maybe you’d be up for it...”

“Tonight? Right now?”

“I see,” he grabs the door as you opens it and holds it, “you’re too busy. Or maybe you’re too good for me.”

You enter and he follows. It’s that familiarity that you just sort of fell into with him. He’s like a wise big brother, even if he really is older than your grandpa. It’s the most unexpected bonds that are the strongest.

“No, not at all, Mr. Hero,” you climb the stairs as he stays a step behind, his hand on the railing right by yours.

“Ugh, why doesn’t this place have an elevator?” He whines.

“I thought the serum would give you extra strong legs,” you toss over your shoulder.

“Whatever.” He clucks, “so how about it? You wanna fall asleep in the theatre with me, dreamy?”

“Dream-- why do you call me that?” You head down towards your door.

“You got your head in the clouds. Also, when you watch movies, you get this look in your eyes, like you’re living on screen. Dreamy. See.” He explains.

“Mm,” you grumble.

“You don’t like it? I put up with Buckaroo.”

“That was once and it was a slip-up,” you unlock your door. “Fine, I’ll go with you since you don’t have any other friends.”

“I have friends.”

“Sure you do,” you snort and turn to give him a playful wink. You put your keys and bag down on the tall table. “You and Cap, the superfriends. Heroes and buddies til the end—whoa!”

You hit the shoe rack and stumble, landing on your ass. Bucky is quick enough to save you but he doesn’t. He watches smugly and cackles as your cheeks burn up.

“Not funny,” you pout.

“Oh, it is very funny,” he approaches and offers his hand. “How’s that humble pie taste?”

“Fine. I was being a meanie. I admit it but you got my adrenaline up. I can’t help it.”

“Ha, yeah, that was good. You shoulda seen the look on your face. And that noise you made.” He hauls you up as his vibranium thumb rubs between your knuckles. “Ayeeeee!”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You do.” He grins. You scowl and he laughs again. “You know I love that face. The day you actually get mad at me, I’ll be down on my knees, dreamy.”

“Ugh, you are such a...” you let the sentence trail off and the dimple stays in in his cheek as he crosses his arms.

“I’m a what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, say it,” he goads.

“No.”

“Come on, I can handle it. You know, I got hit by a truck the other day, I think I can take a few words.”

“Hit by a truck? Bucky?” You squeal. “Are you okay?”

“Ah, look at me. I’m fine. Not a scratch. That you can see,” he shrugs. “So what am I? Tell me.”

“No,” you turn your nose up.

“Say it. You’ll feel better.”

“It’s... not nice.”

“Come on,” he unfolds his arms and flutters his fingers at you, “I am trained in torture.”

“No,” you grab his hands, his skin rough, “no tickles.”

“So, tell me.”

“Not fair,” you struggle to keep his hands away from your sides.

“Almost...” he wiggles his fingertips a half-inch from your middle.

“Brat! You’re a brat!” You step back, out of his reach. “Okay, and if you keep being one, you can go to the movies alone.”

He laughs and grips his hips in victory, “wow, you know, I’ve actually never got that one. Creative.”

“Right, well, I can’t sit in the theatre in this get-up,” you look down at your frilly plaid overall dress and white blouse.

“I didn’t get to mention that yet. It’s a choice, as the young ones say.”

You cringe, “it’s my work uniform.”

“Uniform?” He squints.

“Don’t, okay? I get enough guff from the customers.”

“Guff? Oh, that’s language I understand.”

“Ergh,” you stomp your foot. “You are so... so... old.”

You turn and march away. He laughs and you turn into your bedroom. He just loves to tease you and despite your efforts, he always gets to you. At least he’ll have to be quiet during the movie.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #just friends #drabble #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers

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joeys-babe · 2 years ago

Text

Joey B blurbs: Isn’t She Lovely

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Summary: Joe brings the twins with him to one of his press conferences, but all Miles seems to want is ‘Momma’.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

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*No particular date for this fic!*

(Joe’s pov)

“Joe, my mom’s calling. Can you take the boys with you?” - you

“To my conference??” - Joe

y/n, Tyson, and Miles came over to Paycor today to watch us practice.

Afterward, I and a couple of the other guys stayed back to play football with the kids. The guys made a few jokes after Tyson successfully threw a spiral at two years old. I thought it was accidental, but Ja’marr and Tee swore it was the ‘Burrow gene’.

Now that almost everyone had left the stadium, y/n and the twins were allowed to come into the locker room with me.

y/n got on to me about how messy my locker was. I told her it was fine, but Tee made a ‘Happy wife, happy life’ joke saying I should clean it.

In the end, I knew I would end up doing it anyway to please her because that woman had me wrapped around her finger. She has since high school.

Currently, I was just about to step into the media room when y/n came rushing up to me, the twins behind her, saying that her mom sent a text saying call me ASAP.

Zac had just walked out from his conference, and he heard our conversation.

“You’re allowed to take ‘em in if you want to. I know you would rather be with them than have someone else watch them.” - Zac

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” - Joe

“No problem, kid.” - Zac walked off

y/n stood in front of me, her phone still ringing, and I made a split-second decision.

“Go ahead, I’ll take ‘em, baby.” - Joe

“Thank you, you're the best, Joe.” - you

She looked around to see if anyone was present, and when there wasn't anyone, she pressed a quick peck to my lips.

I watched her speedwalk down the hall toward the women's bathroom to have some privacy, and I bent down to the twin's level.

“You guys have to go in there with me for my press conference, okay? You know those videos you watch of me with Mommy where the people ask me questions?” - Joe

“Yeh!” - Tyson

“You guys are gonna sit on my lap for one, okay? If you wanna leave at any point tell me.” - Joe

“Ok, Dada.” - Tyson

“What about you Miles? Sound good?” - Joe

“Sound great, Daddy.” - Miles

I stood up and picked them both up, one in each arm, and walked into the media room.

It was kinda funny watching the reporter’s faces turn to shock. They knew I was a reserved, closed-off person, and that I hated the media, so for me to bring my kids in here was surprising to them.

Pulling my chair out, I sat down and situated the boys on my lap. One sat on each leg.

Tyson laid his head on my shoulder while Miles was looking around, trying to figure everything out.

“How’s it goin’.” - Joe

Everything was silent.

“What’s this?” - Reporter 1

“A one-time thing.” - Joe chuckled

Everyone in the room laughed before a reporter spoke up.

“Who are these cuties?” - Reporter 2

“They're my two-year-old twins. Wanna say your names?” - Joe

I almost laughed as Miles immediately lept forward and grabbed the mic.

“I’m Miles.” - Miles

His voice was super loud in the speakers from how close he was to the mic, and I couldn't help but bust out laughing.

Eventually, I pulled Miles back into my lap and nudged Tyson. He silently shook his head.

“This is Tyson. He's my little mini-me and doesn't like the media like his daddy.” - Joe

The room laughed again before I continued talking.

“You guys can interact with the boys for a little bit but I'm here to talk football.” - Joe

For the first time since I walked in, the room fell silent, till Miles spoke up.

“Momma!” - Miles

“Someone wants his momma.” - Reporter 3 laughed

“Yeah. She’s on the phone, which is why I had to bring ‘em in here.” - Joe

“Momma?” - Miles looked up at Joe

“She’s on the phone, buddy. If you guys can't already tell, he's a momma’s boy. He’s more like her than me personality-wise.” - Joe

“So he’s social?” - Reporter 2 jokes

I laughed as I nodded my head, finding his dig at me to be funny.

“Momma!” - Miles whined

“Guys, excuse me, but I'm probably gonna have to call my wife.” - Joe

This was the most unorganized thing I've ever done.

Pulling my phone out to call y/n, she answered pretty fast.

“Hello? Are you still in your conference?” - you

“Yes, but can you come get Miles? He wants you like bad.” - Joe

“Oh yeah, of course. I’ll be right there.” - you

“Okay, good. See you in a sec.” - Joe

“I won't say I love you, so you don't have to say it back. I know you don't want that being picked up on the mic.” - you laughed

“I love you too, bye.” - Joe smiled

“What?!” - you

I hung up just after that, not caring that I said it right into the mic.

“She’s coming to get this one.” - Joe

I nodded at Miles, then realized he was waving directly at a female reporter.

Just a few seconds went by before the media room door opened and y/n walked in.

She looked at me, unsure of what to do, so I flicked my head telling her to come in my direction.

y/n walked up the platform steps and took Miles from my lap, who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Do you wanna go with Momma too?” - Joe

Tyson shook his head no and sat up, now facing the room of seated reporters.

I leaned the mic away from my mouth and whispered to y/n.

“Thanks, Mama. You look beautiful by the way. I'll see you after this is over.” - Joe grinned

She grinned at me, her cheeks flushing as she situated Miles on her hip before waking away.

When I faced the reporters and fixed the mic back to point toward my face, they all had smiles on their faces.

“Did… did you guys hear that?” - Joe

All at once they all said yes, yeah, mhm, yup.

My cheeks turned red from embarrassment, this was an absolute trainwreck.

“So… Tyson, what can you tell us about your daddy? What does he do at home?” - Reporter 3

“Uhm…” - Tyson sighed

All of the reporters laughed, finding it so funny that Tyson just pulled something so characteristically me.

“He is just like you!” - Reporter 1

“What do I do at home, Ty?” - Joe

“Kiss Mommy.” - Tyson giggled

I immediately groaned and covered my face with my hand. Tyson kept on laughing, and so were the reporters.

“I’m getting exposed right now.” - Joe

“We, Uhm, pway foot…ball.” - Tyson

“We do.” - Joe nodded

“That’s it.” - Tyson blabbered

The room laughed once again till a reporter spoke up.

“So all he does is kiss your mom and play football?” - Reporter 3

“Mhm!” - Tyson

“Pretty accurate, not gonna lie.” - Joe

“Joe, you're pretty smitten with your wife, yeah?” - Reporter 5

“Have been since high school. She’s the best though. The best mom, wife, best friend… and so much more. She keeps me grounded. I know I usually keep my personal life separate from football, but I love her more than anything.” - Joe

“More than football?” - Reporter 2

“More than anything.” - Joe reiterated

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Authors note: though Joe would never do this, let's just imagine he would.

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals

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theshiniestgemstone · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I’m the anon who asked for the fic with Jesse and the reader on her and Gideon’s wedding day! I loved it! It’s everything I was hoping for!

I had an idea for a kind of part two to that if you’re up for it! What if the reader’s parents show up on the Gemstone compound and are demanding to be let through security but they’re not on the list. I can imagine Jesse going OFF on them when he sees how uncomfortable it’s making the reader. If we know anything about Jesse Gemstone, it’s that he believes in REVENGE!

Thank you again for writing my last request! 💕

-🦈

thank you for that idea btw. if i could kiss you, i would <3. someone kinda beat you to an idea .a, but i will 100% revisit that. here is their request if you want to read, but yours is here: :). they can be read as a continuation, but they don't have to be.

“Thank you for coming over for dinner,” you said, placing the last dry plate into the cupboard.

Amber smiled, patting your hand with a tenderness that always made your chest ache. “Thank you for hosting."

You smiled faintly, tugging your sleeves down as you followed her toward the front porch, the sounds of laughter from Jesse and Gideon echoing through the trees. It was your first time hosting his parents for dinner in your home. You'd come home last week from the honeymoon, complete with golden tans and no tan lines, save for the one beneath your wedding bands.

But just as you stepped outside, the phone rang. You turned around, grabbing the handset from the dock and answered with a soft hello.

“Uh, Mrs. Gemstone? We’ve got two visitors at the front gate. Say they’re family. Refusing to leave.”

You froze. Amber turned toward you, eyes narrowing in concern.

“Names?”

The radio crackled again. “They’re saying they’re your parents. Didn’t catch the names, just a lot of yelling and… threats of legal action?”

Gideon immediately stood up, the shift in his demeanor so quick and sharp it nearly startled you. Gone was the easygoing warmth from moments before. His jaw was tight now, eyes tracking you like he was waiting for the word to act. Protective. Present.

Amber touched his arm but didn’t stop him. She just looked between the two of you, gauging the storm that had clearly arrived.

You’d brought them up before. Once. Maybe twice, and even then, only in fragments, little slips during long talks curled up on the couch, or whispered late at night when the memories crept in.

There were a lot of disagreements growing up. The kind of tension that sat heavy in the air for weeks. A single B+ was treated like a personal failure. Silver and bronze were embarrassments. Honors without High Honors? A sign you weren’t trying hard enough. There was never yelling, never anything you could point to with certainty, but that made it worse. It was all sharp smiles and cutting comments. Love, but only when earned.

And now they were here. Uninvited. Shouting at the gates of your second home like they had the right.

“I didn’t think they’d come here,” you muttered, voice thin. “I didn’t think they’d actually-”

Gideon stepped closer, just enough for you to feel his presence solidly at your side. “They don’t get to decide anything anymore.”

His tone was low, firm in a way you rarely heard. It wasn’t for comfort. It was a promise. One that crackled under his skin like a lit fuse.

“I don’t care if they brought God himself in the passenger seat,” Jesse called from the front porch, his voice carrying as he adjusted his watch and started toward the back door. “They’re gonna learn today. Let them in."

Amber clicked her tongue. “Jesse.”

“I said they’re gonna learn, Amber!” he shot back without missing a step. “They came up to my gate with their little petty attitudes and ‘do you know who I am’ voices and thought we were just gonna let ‘em strut in here and act like she owes them something?”

You winced slightly. But Gideon’s hand found yours.

“You don’t owe them a damn thing,” he said, steady and sure, as if it were gospel.

You followed Jesse through the house and to the front door, every step heavy with the weight of what was about to unfold. The hallway felt narrower than usual, the walls closing in with memories and unspoken tensions. Jesse’s hand was on the doorknob before you could think twice. He pulled it open with the kind of force that made the hinges groan, revealing your parents standing stiff and stiff-necked on the other side, their expressions a mix of disbelief and entitlement.

“Well, well, well,” Jesse said, voice dripping with something between amusement and menace. “Look who decided to show up unannounced. Didn’t think you had the guts to come here, did ya?”

Your parents opened their mouths, but Jesse cut them off with a sharp wave. “Save it. I’m not here for chit-chat. You’re making her uncomfortable, and you’re trespassing. So, you’ve got two choices. Turn around and leave, or we make this real unpleasant.”

You felt Gideon tighten his grip on your hand, grounding you as your parents sputtered. You caught Amber’s calm but watchful eyes just inside the doorway, like a shield ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Your dad finally found his voice, but Jesse wasn’t done. “Look, if you wanted to talk, you’d have called. You wouldn’t come storming in like some damn bull in a china shop. This is her life now, and you’re not welcome to disrupt it.”

You stared your mother in the face. Everyone always said you look like her, that you'd age gracefully carrying her features.

Your mother’s voice cracked just enough to sound sincere, her eyes searching yours like she was trying to find a flicker of the child she once knew. “We just want a second chance. To make things right. We made mistakes. We know that now.”

Jesse’s posture shifted. His jaw unclenched, and for a heartbeat, he looked like he might actually soften. Gideon released your hand, stepping back but staying close enough to steady you if needed.

On the surface, it sounded like a real plea. The kind that might thaw even the coldest walls.

But you weren’t fooled. You caught the glint in your mother’s eye. Sharp, calculating, like a wolf disguised in a lamb’s clothing. The way your father’s gaze dropped, fixating on the polished marble floor and the mahogany dining table behind you, as if already imagining himself seated at it again, reclaiming his place.

You swallowed hard, the knot in your stomach tightening.

Jesse gave your parents a hard look, then turned to you. Gideon's hand found yours again, warm and steady.

"Get the fuck out," you spat. "You couldn't even come to my wedding and now you're standing here at my home? On my front steps ogling my home- the home that I found without you."

Your mother's lips parted in quiet offense. Your father tore his gaze from the crown moulding. He reached for your hand. "We just want to repair. We treated you terribly."

The tears in your eyes began to burn. "You had years to do something. You can't just see the fancy house and the gate and suddenly decide I'm someone worth visiting."

Gideon took a breath behind you, calmer now but still radiating that protective Gemstone heat. “Y’all need to leave. She ain’t alone anymore. And she sure as hell don’t need your half-ass apologies to validate her life.”

Your father finally looked up, but it was too late.

You didn’t blink. Then, turning away and with a wave of your hand, you spoke. “Go back to wherever you came from. See if any of your other kids will talk to you."

They hesitated.

“Now,” Jesse said, stepping forward.

Security didn’t need to be told twice that they were not welcome anymore.

#🦈anon #gideon gemstone #answered asks #gideon gemstone x you #the righteous gemstone #gideon gemstone x fem reader #gideon gemstone x reader #the righteous gemstones #gideon gemstone fanfic #fanfic

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aemondsbabe · 2 years ago

Text

Homecoming

summary: reassurance & car sex || you're desperate to have tom before he ships off, but neither of your houses are exactly ideal options...

pairing: tom bennett x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, first time, loss of virginity, car sex, public sex (they don’t get caught, no one else sees, but it’s not in the privacy of a home so ig), fingering, fluff, tom being so sweet actually, v soft

word count: 3.1k

a/n: happy day two of 12 days of smuff!!! tom bennett makes my head spin!!!!!!! Can be read as a part 1 to A Promise is a Promise or as a stand alone!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @violaobanion!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

A loud peal of laughter erupts from Tom’s lips as the two of you stagger out of the small, neighborhood pub you frequented, each of you calling quick goodbye’s over your shoulders to your friends. The night air was crisp but thankfully not overly cold yet as you take Tom’s arm, your shoulder bumping against his as you step out onto the sidewalk.

“You’re a real firecracker, love, you know that?” He asks with a cheeky grin, draping a long arm over your shoulders as you begin the quick walk back to your family’s place.

You can’t help but chuckle as you glance over at him, the apples of your cheeks sore from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing over the last couple hours. “‘S just the truth, Tommy,” you shrug, slightly slurring your words, “I just love you sooooooo much! Like, more than anything.”

Leaning in, Tom presses a quick kiss to your cheek and laughs once again when you stumble against him from the movement. “Easy there, tiger,” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. The two of you amble a bit further in a comfortable, giggly silence as you finally turn the corner onto your street, “D’you love me more than Cola Cubes?” Tom asks, giggling out the words.

You throw your head back and groan dramatically before turning to him with a playful pout, “That is pure evil, that is! Making me think of Cola Cubes during rationing!” You whine, reaching up to lightly smack him on his firm chest.

Tom merely laughs as the two of you finally come to a stop in front of your front door; spinning around, you let yourself fall back against the white-painted door, the material cool against your back through your thin blouse. You look up through your lashes at Tom, watching as he leans forward, balancing himself against the door with one arm outstretched above the two of you as his other hand comes to rest on your hip.

“Tell ya what,” he starts, a suddenly serious look in his cobalt eyes as he leans ever closer to you and rests his forehead against yours, “I’ll save you every single Cola Cube I get in my C-rations and y’can have ‘em all when I get back to ya.”

Your throat tightens at his words and your heart twists meanly in your chest, though you manage to turn your lips up into a small, quivering smile as you place a hand on his chest, the grey fabric of his sweater soft under your palm. “And you promise you’ll come back?” Your voice is softer than you mean for it to be, a slight hoarseness to it from how your throat pinches.

Tom sighs softly and gently cups your chin, his hand still cool from where it had been balanced on the door. “I’ve only had you for a measly two months, you think I’m giving you up that easily?” He teases, though there’s a certain sadness in his eyes that mirror’s your own; even still, you can’t help but chuckle at his words.

The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a moment, simply enjoying being close as neither of you are willing to say goodnight yet. After a minute, your breath hitches in your chest as you notice the shadow behind the brunette’s eyes morph into a different kind of darkness as his eyes stray to your lips.

Without a second thought, you lean in and press your lips against his, eliciting a pleased hum from the boy, the small noise vibrating against the hand still on his chest as your other comes up to rest on his shoulder. Both of his skirt down to grab at your hips and he pulls you closer to him, your heads tilting in opposite directions as the kiss deepens. A small whimper escapes your lips as he licks into your mouth, his tongue swirling against your own.

“Tommy,” you whisper, your head tilting further to the side as he presses a line of kisses down your neck, “I… I want you.” You finish shyly, teeth biting into your lower lip as he pulls back to look at you.

His breath hitches for a second before he collects himself. “Are you sure, love?” He asks gruffly, “I thought you wanted to wait till–.”

You shake your head, your eyes searching his as you fiddle with the neckline of his sweater. “Changed my mind,” the corner of your lips quirks up into a nervous smile, “Think of it as a going away present.”

Tom smiles at your words and huffs out a small laugh before nodding to the door behind you. “Whatever you wish, love. Lead the way.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you shake your head again. “Are you crazy? We cannot go in there, both my parents are very light sleepers and if my dad catches you, you won’t even make it to the Navy, much less make it home. Can’t we just go round to yours? It’s only a couple minutes away.”

“No can do, love,” Tom sighs with a shake of his head, “Even if my dad’s asleep, there’s no way we’ll get past Lois. Bloody bat hearing on that one, I swear.”

The two of you sigh, defeated, your shoulders sagging as Tom crooks an arm up, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck as he glances around, the wheels in his head spinning frantically as he tries to come up with an idea; his eyes do a double take as he spots your family’s black car sitting idly on the small driveway in front of your house and he turns to you with a sly smirk.

“What say we christen your dad’s car?”

You start to giggle, convinced he’s merely joking, although you stop when you see the look in his eyes. “Tommy, you can’t be serious,” you say with a surprised smile, “If my dad finds out we took it he’ll–.”

“Who said anything about taking it, love?” He says with a proud smirk.

You guffaw at this, staring at him incredulously. “What, you mean just here on the drive?”

“Well, why not?” He questions, exaggeratedly turning his head as he looks around, peering up and down the deserted road, “You know as well as I do that all your neighbors are old as the hills, love. Only ones out round here at this hour are you and me.”

You stay quiet for a moment, unbelievably actually considering his proposal as you glance up and down the road and well… he is right. Most of your neighbors are quite a bit older and all of their windows dark and still as you peer around. Finally, you turn back to Tom with a sigh, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Fine,” you quip, blushing slightly as he chuckles lowly, clearly pleased with himself, “Let me grab the bloody key.” You mutter with a playful eye roll as you open your front door as slowly and quietly as you can possibly manage. You duck in and quickly snatch your father’s ring of keys off the small table next to the door before quietly shutting it behind you.

You hand the keys to Tom and follow him down the drive, a sense of giddiness quickly replacing your nerves; the brunette easily unlocks the car and quickly pulls one of the back doors open and slides inside before reaching a hand out to pull you with him.

He pounces on you as soon as you carefully shut the door, his rough hands eagerly bunching up the fabric of your blouse as he tugs it out from where you’d tucked it under your skirt while his lips move frantically against your own.

“You’re sure?” He pants, pulling back after a moment when he feels your hands starting to tug impatiently at the bottom of his sweater, “We really don’t ha–.”

You press a finger against his rosy lips, cutting him off with a soft giggle. “I want this, Tommy,” leaning in, you trail soft kisses up his jaw to his ear, “I want you.” You whisper, relishing the way he shivers on top of you and the way the muscles of his stomach and chest twitch under your touch as you slide your hands under his sweater.

With a nod, Tom dives in yet again and presses wet kisses against the column of your throat as he tugs you into his lap, careful not to let your head bump against the roof of the car. He groans at the feel of you on top of him and his hands move quickly as they pull your blouse up; he leans in and kisses wetly up your stomach, right down the middle until he reaches the bottom of your bra.

His blue eyes are nearly black as he gazes up at you, questioning. A whimper slips past your lips as you answer him with a small nod, fingers threading through his short hair as he eagerly slips your bra up.

He breathes out a low, satisfied groan when your breasts are finally free, not bothering to take off your bra or blouse before he dives in. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, lips pressed against the underside of your breast, “They’re better than I imagined, so much better.”

A giggle spills past your lips before it quickly turns into a moan, your head lolling back as he latches onto one nipple, happily sucking it into his warm mouth with a satisfied grunt. “T-Tommy,” you whisper, already writhing on top of him from a few touches, “Don’t stop.” Your voice is whiny as you speak, only for you to actually whine as Tom pulls back for a second to tug his sweater over his head.

“Relax, love,” he huffs against your chest, groaning hotly as you squirm in his lap, no doubt able to feel his cock as it hardens steadily in his pants, “‘M gonna give you what you want, gonna do right by you.” He promises, licking over your nipple before sucking at it and letting his eyes flutter shut at the way you gently tug his hair.

The windows of the car quickly begin to fog up as the two of you move together, your breathy sighs and whimpers filling the small space along with Tom’s harsh pants and groans. You squirm in his lap as his hands make quick work of your stockings and underwear, quickly tugging them down and off your legs before he tosses them somewhere on the floor of the car.

He looks to you for reassurance once more, which you happily give, before his warm hand cups your center, causing both of you to shudder against each other. Slowly, carefully, he parts your folds before gently rubbing a finger over your bud, chuckling when you buck into his hand with a loud moan. “That the spot, love?” His eyes flick up to your face, eager to watch your reactions as he touches you, “God, you’re dripping.” A soft sigh leaves his lips as he presses his fingers more firmly against you, flicking them over your clit.

“Mhm, Tommy, shit,” you whine, your voice only a breathy whisper as you press your forehead against his. Your eyes flutter as your hips move against his hand, seemingly with a mind of their own, “More, please!” You whine desperately after a few moments, eyes squeezing shut at the way your center clenches around nothing.

Nodding, Tom moves his hand a bit lower, groaning at how much slicker you are here, before he runs his fingers through your folds once more, making sure to get them wet before notching two at your entrance. “Ready?” He asks softly, only slowly pushing them in once you nod. He groans along with you, marveling at how tightly you’re grasping his fingers as his cock twitches in his pants at the thought of how much tighter you’ll be around him. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans lowly, blue eyes glancing down to watch your breasts heave as you pant on top of him, “Does that feel good, love?”

Wordlessly, you nod against his forehead, swallowing thickly. A loud moan is practically punched out of you as he curls his fingers, pressing perfectly against a small, sensitive spot inside you. Your mouth hangs open as unintelligible whines tumble from your lips, a shiver going down your spine when you see the pleased smirk on his face.

His long fingers fuck into you for a few more moments, his thumb coming up to rub at your clit in a way that makes you see stars as you cling to him tightly, your breasts pressed deliciously up against his warm, bare chest.

You whine, however, when his movements start to slow against you, though he’s quick to hush you, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You want my cock, love?” He asks, pulling his fingers from you slowly before gripping appreciatively at the fat of your inner thigh.

You pull back to look down at him, your eyebrows knitting together as a small, nervous pit forms in your stomach. “It… it won’t hurt, right?” You ask softly, the words of several of your friends echoing through your mind.

Quickly, Tom shakes his head, one hand coming up to cup your cheek lovingly. “I promise it won’t,” he says softly, pressing a reassuring kiss to your lips, “I told you, I’m gonna do right by you.”

Hesitantly, you nod, though he must sense the nervousness that’s still pooled in your stomach. He sighs with a soft smile, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “How about you stay on top, hm? That way you control everything.”

You blink a few times, considering the offer before smiling and nodding, which draws a bright smile from the boy underneath you. You shift back a bit on his lap, giving him enough room to unbutton and unzip his pants and pull them down just enough to free his cock; your eyes widen as he pulls it free from his boxers with a relieved sigh.

“A-Are you sure it’ll fit?” You ask softly, marveling at it as he runs a hand over his length.

He chuckles beneath you with a proud smirk as he pulls you back to him. “I’m sure, love, I promise you’ll enjoy it.” He assures you, pressing kisses down your neck as he does so. Your breath hitches as you feel the head of his cock prod at your entrance, and you lean into Tom’s touch as you let him guide your hips.

“Oh!” You shudder as you slowly sink down, breathing heavily as the head slips inside your warm center.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, his hands gentle on your hips as he lets you take him at your own pace, “Doing so well, pretty girl.”

His praises spur you on as you sink lower and lower, eyes squeezing shut as your thighs burn a little with the effort. Finally, after a few minutes, you breathe a sigh of relief as your thighs finally rest on top of his, his length pressing fully inside you.

“Y’okay?” He checks through a ragged breath, his eyes nearly slipping to the back of his head as he feels you twitch and pulse around him already, your walls suffocatingly tight against his length.

You nod as you let yourself fall forward and press a cheek against his warm shoulder before giving a small, experimental roll of your hips. You gasp as you feel him press against you, filling you with a delicious ache.

The two of you begin to move together wordlessly, your hands finding purchase against his firm chest as you gingerly bounce on top of him, breathily moaning in time with each thrust. Tom grunts each time you sink back down onto him, one hand gripping at your hip as the other kneads at your breast, his fingers pinching and pulling your nipple just enough to elicit adorable high-pitched whines from you.

Your clit, still sensitive from his earlier attention, rubs perfectly against the small thatch of hair at the base of his cock and sends shivers down your spine. “T-Tommy,” you gasp, nearly doubling over as you tilt your hips, causing the head of his cock to rut against that sensitive spot within you at the same time your clit grinds against him, “I think – I, oh!” You pant against his shoulder, unable to string together two words as sparks suddenly burst behind your eyelids.

Tom huffs out a loud groan as he feels you tense on top of him, your walls clenching around his cock wildly as your peak washes over you. He mumbles incoherent curses against your neck as his hips rut up into you.

He holds out for as long as he can before tugging you off of his lap, one hand quickly grasping at his length as he desperately strokes it. You watch, enraptured, as his head tilts back onto the car seat, his Adams’s apple bobbing beautifully as he moans, long and loud. His cock twitches in his grasp as he finishes, painting wet, pearlescent streaks against the trembling skin of his lower stomach, his chest heaving.

After a moment, the two of you giggle softly. You bite your lip as he bends over, only to open it in protest as he quickly wipes his spend from his stomach with your discarded stockings, “Tom! You pig!” You admonish, albeit through a surprised laugh.

He peers up at you cheekily as he deposits your stockings on the floor of the car once again, laughing as he pulls you back to him. “You’ll wash them anyway!” He huffs, wrapping his arms around you. The two of you grow quiet for a moment, rain softly pattering against the top of the car. “Or you could keep them like a trophy while I’m gone,” he teases, chuckling once again at your small sound of disgust, “Something to remember me by.”

“But you’ll be back,” you say softly after a moment, pulling back so you can look at him properly, your wide eyes searching his, “Right?”

He sighs with a soft smile, both hands gently cupping your cheeks. “I promise, I’ll come back to you,” he says earnestly, blue eyes boring into your own, “I will come home to you, love.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before finally nodding, tucking your face against his shoulder once more and breathing in his familiar scent.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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neysaadept · 7 months ago

Note

fic request, i read your last request fic and kinda had a slight idea. for the prompts i need you & you’re family. similar ish to the last fic but emily is struggling and trying to convince her how important she actually is

I do hope you enjoy what I came up with!

Self Surrender

Emily Prentiss x Female!Reader (Reader is a Financial Analyst)

Tags - No use of y/n, swearing, angst, established relationship. mentions of blood but not gory, hurt/comfort. Set after the events of Demonology. Minors DNI.

AO3

Word Count: 2.3k

It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell - Buddha

It was a late day at work with a deadline that got pushed up due to military funding and the financials needed to be completed by end of day today. You enjoy crunching numbers and the beauty of spreadsheets, but this was fucking ridiculous. Yes, yes, need to keep people safe with the top-secret project you were working on at Northrup Grumman, but no one needed to baseline the damn project right now. The software design was already approved so what did it matter? Of course, you did not get paid the big bucks to make these decisions but one day, you aspired to be.

By the time you return to your town home in Westboro, MD, it was past 10pm. All you could think of was having a generous glass of wine while taking a bath to soak your stress and aches of the day away. You toss your keys and purse on a table in the foyer, lock up and reset the security system. You take off your coat and shake off the snow before hanging it up in the closet and turn on the lights. Shoes were kicked off and then you walked down the hallway into the living room to pick up the remote control on top of the fireplace. You turn on the flatscreen above on the wall and put on a classic rock station to fill your home with music, but something gives you pause before you put the remote back down.

You suddenly pivot on your feet to see what causes your senses to heighten, and there sitting on your couch dressed all in black is Emily Prentiss. Somehow you missed her when you first walked in.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Em!” You set the remote down and laugh in relief. “Scared the shit outta me.”

She doesn’t say anything but acknowledges you with her lips twisted to the side looking apologetic.

You’re delighted to see her but couldn’t fathom why Emily didn’t call or text you she was going to meet you here at your home. She was close to practically living here, which is why she had a key and the code to the town home and can truly come and go as she pleases, but something was clearly off as you approach her. She hadn’t even taken her coat or shoes off and looked distraught with brown eyes dull and introspective. What really made your heart ache was the dried blood under her nose.

“What the hell happened?!” Now you move quickly to sit beside her and immediately tilt her head to face you. You swipe your thumb above her lip and find it doesn’t come off easily. It was dried.

You frown. “What happened, baby?”

“Case was bad,” she answers in a raspy voice and gently tries to bring your hand down by the wrist. You don’t budge. “But I’m okay.”

You look at her dubiously and narrow your eyes. “Then why is my love sitting on my couch looking uncomfortable and sad?”

She shrugs as her response.

“Okay.” You are patient and lower your hands to slide the coat off her shoulders. “Take this off and I’ll go make us some tea.” You want clear heads for right now if Emily wants to talk and the tea would be soothing and warm for the weather outside.

She nods at that, and you give her a quick kiss that she returns.

The kitchen had an entrance through the living room and quickly take the stainless steel kettle off the stove top to the faucet to fill with water. You do look to your right to make sure Emily is getting comfortable and smiles that she is also taking off her shoes.

As the kettle heats up, you go into a cabinet to grab two clean kitchen towels and run one under warm water. After you rinse it out to be properly damp, you make your way back to the couch and see Emily has neatly folded her coat on the loveseat and her shoes were on the mat in front of the patio doors. What bothers you is her upright posture and her defensively crossed her arms over her stomach. She rarely does that around you anymore, but what’s worse, is she’s staring out through the patio windows. She is watching the snow come down and doesn’t realize you are back. This was so unlike her.

“Em?” you call out gently and watch as she drags her eyes towards you before her head follows. You dangle the towels before her as you sit down once again. “Let me take care of that …”

“It’s alright. I got it,” she says and reaches for the towel to do it herself. You give it up and bunch the dry towel between your hands.

You watch Emily start to dry the blood from under nose. “Wanna talk about it?” you offer as your hand goes to her thigh to squeeze in comfort. Even if she didn’t want to talk, you could offer small gestures of affection.

She doesn’t immediately say anything but when she was done cleaning herself off, Emily points to the picture on the glass coffee table. It was an old picture by the look of it, all folded up and yellow with age. You give her the dry towel to finish cleaning herself up and carefully pick up the picture, unfolding it.

You can’t help the smile that comes seeing a teenage Emily with two boys. All were smiling and had their arms up, except the boy on the right only had one. “Look at you. Still got the same smile.”

The affection you feel at Emily sharing a part of her past turns to concern because if she is showing you this with her mood clearly down, something terrible has happened. You look at her and wait, knowing she’ll speak when she’s ready.

“The picture was taken in Rome when my mother was posted there.” She rolls the wet towel into the dry one and sets them aside on the couch arm. She scoots closer and points to each boy. “That’s Matthew. And that’s Johnny.”

Emily reaches for the picture which you gladly relinquish and guides you to sit back on the couch with her. She strokes Matthew’s face with a thumb. “Matthew died.”

Your eyes widen in horror. Immediately your arm entwines Emily’s as you rest your head against her shoulder. You squeeze her forearm and respond so sadly. “I’m so sorry, Em. What happened?”

All three of them were around the same age in the picture so it had to be shocking to know someone Emily’s age had died. What you didn’t anticipate is what Emily shares next. “This case I told you I was working on …”

“Yeah,” you answer softly and then a shiver runs down your back as you understand where this was leading. “Oh, shit. I … I’m so sorry that you …” But you pause because something didn’t make sense. “I thought you couldn’t work on a case about someone you’re close to?”

That pulls a smile from her. “There’s my smart girl. You’re right. I asked the BAU to look into his death since it was under suspicious circumstances.”

“And they found out what happened?”

She briskly nods. “Yes. We did.”

You tilt your head to look at her profile with a frown. “We? Hotch let you work the case?” You lick your lips and continue softly so confused. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing. Really,” she states firmly.

“Okay.” You rest your head back down on her shoulder and try a different approach. “Then why did I find you in my home sitting in the dark?”

Her lips firmly press together and for a moment, you think Emily’s going to bolt. You’re upset that you were right as she starts to shift under you to untangle limbs. “You’re right. That was inconsiderate of me …”

The tea kettle begins to whistle but you ignore it for now as you hold onto her and plea. “Please don’t go.”

She stiffens under you, and you can tell Emily is weighing her options. To your relief, she settles back against the couch. “Okay,” she states so quietly that you thought you heard wrong.

“Are you in the mood for hazelnut?” you ask, hoping that you heard right.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

You lift your head and kiss her and then her on the cheek. “I’ll be back quick.”

She squeezes your hand with acknowledgement and as a promise to not go anywhere. You head into the kitchen and turn the stove off and place the teapot on a cooler grate. You take the cream-colored mugs off the wall rack and rummage in the cupboard for the hazelnut and mint teas to steep for both of you. You came back in five minutes and Emily was anxiously waiting for you. She was aggressively going at her fingernails and your eyes move from her nervous habit to gaze at her brown ones with sympathy.

Silently you set down your respective mugs on a wooden coaster before you sit back down and take Emily’s hands in your own. You run soothing circles over dry skin from the cold outside. “Talk to me. Please?”

She looks away, eyes focusing on the hardwood floors. “This is the time I fuck up relationships.”

“What makes you think you’ve fucked up our relationship?” you ask with confusion.

Emily scowls and audibly sighs. “Because … because I should’ve told you about this when it first started happening. And … everything around it that involved me.”

You look confused but she doesn’t see it as she continues. “I’m afraid. Of losing you to something stupid I do. Or don’t do because I can’t talk about how I feel. Or even worse.” Emily’s words turn harsher as she verbally lashes herself. “That I don’t know how to talk to you about it. Which is what I did.”

You reach out and gently touch Emily’s chin, briefly caressing it, before you coax her to turn to face you. You search for her gaze, but you are unable to connect with her just yet. “You’re talking to me now.”

“But, for how long are you gonna tolerate me keeping things from you?” she admits and quietly adds at the end, “how long before you leave me…”

Your eyes water at hearing this startling admission. Never did you think Emily was afraid of you leaving her. That was your fear of her doing that to you. You frantically blink, not wanting to let her go and wipe any tears that may fall. “Em?”

She doesn’t respond verbally or physically, only staring off at the floor. “Emily. Please… please look at me?”

It takes a good long minute for her to find the strength to lift her head and shift her gaze to hold yours. What she sees makes her choke back a sob because there is nothing but love reflecting in your orbs. You smile tenderly. “I need you, Em. So, I’m not going anywhere.”

She laughs out of nerves, not believing you. “Maybe not now …”

“Hey!” You deeply frown and drop your hand to run through her hair before rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not just gonna run out on the love of my life because shit got hard. And I’m still well versed in your long ass monologue when things got serious that you’re a pain in the ass who works long hours, is out of state a lot, and has commitment issues. Oh!” You smile, almost forgetting one important part. “And that your mom’s an ass.”

She looks sheepish as she tries to bite back a laugh. “Yeah, I did say all that.” She gazes deeply into your watery eyes that couldn’t hold back tears any longer. “And you’re still here.”

You nod. “I’m still here. Four months later. Cuz, I love you, you fucking dork.”

That makes her laugh. “Tell me how you really feel.”

You know she was kidding but you answer anyway. “You’re my family, Em. Nothing’s gonna change that. And I can see how hard this is for you but I’m not going anywhere just because it gets hard talking about the past. It’s happened with me, too, and you’re still here.”

She smiles tenderly. “Yeah.”

You scoot closer to her and cup Emily’s cheek with your free hand. “We got all the time in the world to share ourselves. I’m just glad you’re here with me, tonight, instead of by yourself. And to me? That’s a brave fucking thing you’ve done, baby.”

Emily joins you in shedding tears as you watch her overcome with emotion. Her lower lip quivers and she visibly shakes, and not from the cold. You were going to bring her into a hug but instead she launches forward and captures your mouth in a fierce, grounding, kiss. It was a kiss that made your body shiver from its intensity, feeling the love Emily has for you and her need to connect physically as words were so difficult for her to find. Her kiss is also an apology and a promise to do better.

And as Emily clings to your top, you press against her while you return the kiss. Now, it was a mutual promise you both declare moving forward and as long as you both could come together like this? You two would weather any storm.

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