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sincerelybubbles · 5 months ago

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hotch x shy!bau!reader <3 fem content: slight age gap implied. reader is new to the team and more on the introverted side! not proof read, as is my hubris.

Tired, nerves buzzing from a night spent up and chasing sleep that was not welcoming, you throw your bag down on your desk and go off in hunt of coffee. You usually try to curb your caffeine intake, especially with the travel associated with your new job, but this morning is a happy exception to your new rule.

"Here," Emily says, watching you scan the cabinets of the kitchen. You hadn't heard her walk in, but she's offering you a mug with a sympathetic smile. "Long night?"

"Yes," you say, tone thankful, and spin to figure out the coffee machine.

"Three weeks and i haven't seen you use that once," she comments, sipping from her own warm mug and watching you settle the filter in place.

"I've stayed away. it's harder to sleep when I get back because of the jet lag, anyway, don't need to add coffee at all odd hours to the list, too."

It's the most you've said in casual conversation like this. To say you've been shy with your new team would be an understatement. You're good at your job, you were pulled from the academy early to do this for a reason. You fit well into the team, generally. You like listening to Spencer ramble, especially on the longer flights. Rossi's dry humor reminds you of one of your old professors you grew up admiring. JJ is a constant breath of fresh air, Morgan's consistent strength has built up your own moral. Garcia took no getting used to, lifting you up and settling into your life easily. Hotch is intimidating but kind under the colder-tones, long glances sometimes distracting but oterhwise comforting. Emily is easily one of your favorites on the team, friendly and whip-smart. But, at the core of it, you're shy. Painfully so, even.

The team caught onto this quick, settling into the truth that your observational nature that makes you so adept at noticing the smaller details is bound to weep into your social life as well. So, despite your comfort levels rising with the team, you find these situations hard. Do you explain your nightmares to Emily? Share that you're a diagnosed insomniac who spent the night watching FRIENDS reruns after chasing sleep that pranced beyond reach?

"You're better than me, then," Emily says, smiling over her mug. Her eyes tell you she's pleased at the little crack into your life that you've let her see. They're all like that: insufferably kind and polite with your introverted nature but greedily sipping up everything they can learn about you.

"It's a new development," you admit, clicking start on the machine and settling back against the counter facing her. Something about your sleepiness makes it easier to talk, your tongue looser, your ache to let loose around the team more profound. "I'm sure most of us are insomniacs, though."

"Not me," Emily says, chuckling. "I get home and feel like I don't wake up until I get back here."

"Ah, well, I'm sure it can feel like a curse no matter what way you fall," you say with a shrug. Emily lifts her coffee in cheers to that.

"Morning," Morgan says, turning into the kitchen and giving you a surprised smile. "Hello, sunshine, you're looking bright eyed today."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I know, I know."

Emily points with her chin at you, "She's making the coffee this morning."

"Ah-ah, remaking it because you and pretty boy always get here first and finish the first pot." Morgan teases her with a slight shake of his head, grinning and opening the fridge to pull out the creamer.

"Well, you snooze you loose. Or," she sends you a smile, complete with a little nose wrinkle and a tilt of her head, "you don't snooze and still loose."

"Clever," you say, voice dry with humor, hiding your laugh by turning around as the pot finished brewing. "I'll remember this later."

"Careful, she's got teeth," Morgan warns Emily, reaching around you to grab the coffee before you can and filling his cup.

"Hey!" You call in protest, voice raising louder than usual and a pout hitting your lips. Morgan laughs, white teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Here, here," he says, placating, tipping the pitcher to fill your cup as well. "Any sugar or cream to placate the beast?"

Before you can answer, a laugh on the tip o your tongue, Hotch walks in and settles his watchful eyes on you, interest sparking them. You shrink, not in fear but in self-awareness, and send him a closed lip smile. Stepping away from Morgan, you turn quickly to fix your own coffee.

"Good morning," Hotch says, nodding at Emily and Morgan, answering Emily's question about Jack's recent sickness (he's recovering well, thank you) and trying to catch your eye.

You duck away, cowardly and regressing back into your shell, deciding it's time to get to work and stop indulging. You catch Morgan tease Hotch as you leave, though, "Aw, you've scared her off."

You try not to think about it as you duck away, pushing all thoughts of your boss away.

You're unsuccessful.

The problem isn't that you're afraid of him because you think he's mean or unkind in any way. He's done his best to welcome you to the team, allowing you to take investigations in your own direction and listening to your insights since day one. There was a brief moment in your first week where you felt tested, like his questions weren't to gain your insight but to see if you were up to the task, but you slipped past that easily. you have the credentials to back yourself up. you're quiet, yeah, but you're always right on track to where you need to be. pulled early from academy to jump into investigating was hard but it made this easy. a few years of experience under your belt and the job feels natural and, even with the shift in teams to join the big guns in Quantico, you feel like you're exactly where you're meant to be.

No, embarrassingly, this has nothing to do with you not liking your boss or being afraid of him. Rather, he makes you too comfortable. He ducks his head to hear you speak as you walk and talk, settling deep eyes on your face. He's sturdy, dependable, and exactly everything you're all too interested in.

You hate it, harboring a school crush on your boss like you're a teen pining over your teacher. You know it's normal, you know it's perfectly reasonable and there's absolutely nothing wrong with being attracted to him, but you still slink away from him more than the others because of that attraction.

Because it's more than physical.

He listens when you talk. Granted, so do the rest of the team - they're profilers, of course they catalogue everything everyone is saying for future reference. But, beyond that, you catch him paying attention. He complimented your new blouse earlier in the week and it caused air to catch in your throat, suffocating you. It looked new, bright white and without wrinkles, but you knew he must have been looking, noticing, to remember you not wearing it before. He's kind, remembering details about you and the team and using them to aid in everyone's comfort. He knows Spencer can't handle dairy and you've heard him reminding an intern to stock the dairy-free alternatives for creamer in the jet. He brought you a neck pillow on your second flight because you didn't have one.

That gift you accepted with stuttering thank-you's and a flushed face. It hadn't flared this crush, but it definitely aided in your ability to accept it when you finally got around to no longer avoiding how he made you feel with every kind smile and gentle good morning.

You settle down at your desk, putting your steaming mug on a pile of paperwork you really need to sort through, and try to physically push the thoughts out of your head by ranking your hands through your hair, lifting it from your forehead and squeezing your eyes shut. Today isn't the day. You're too tired, sure that the team will be flying out today, and really need to be on your A-Game.

"Everything okay?" A calm voice asks from your elbow. When you look up, you decide the universe hates you. Hotch is leaning on the desk adjacent to yours, holding his own travel cup full of fresh coffee, chin tilted down to check on you. His gaze is kind, light on your face, and his eyebrows are lifted slightly. You get the feeling that he's doing everything in his power to present himself as less imposing.

"Yes, of course," you answer automatically, heart thudding in your throat.

"You know, you shouldn't lie to profilers," he says, tone teasing, voice still low. "If you're tired, it's okay to admit it to me, too."

You're about to brush him off when something in your brain freezes before clicking into place.

He's looking at you, pleading, expression open. He's usually guarded, professional. Caring, but with a guard up. Rare are these moments of genuine asking, especially rarer so are the moment of pleading hidden behind a mask of gentle humor. You think, briefly, about how it must seem to him. He heard you, Emily, and Morgan joking in the kitchen. You haven't been here long, you're shy, but slowly thawing to everyone but him. He doesn't know your reasons, he couldn't, you've made a genuine effort to hide them, and you force yourself to see it from his perspective.

"Sorry," you say, softly, slowly. "I didn't sleep well. First nightmares and then insomnia. Hence," you gesture toward your mug. You shrug, heart beating out of your chest, eyes searching his. Nice, be nice, be open and kind and yourself. "At least I have FRIENDS reruns to keep me company."

You see something relax in him at your gentle offering of the information. He sends you a not-quite-smile, nodding once and pushing himself off of the desk he was lightly leaning against.

"Take a few minutes, I'm sure JJ will call us in soon." He scans your face for a moment before looking down at your desk. He reaches forward, slowly but with purpose, and lifts a file that has been nagging you for days. The new computer system is hard to get used to and the paperwork load is heavier than you've experienced before. "I can help you with this to ease some of your load, too."

He's walking away before you can protest, tucking the file under his arm and ducking into his office. He moves swiftly, leaving no room for argument, and you're left at your desk, mouth agape and heart in your mouth.

"Wow," Spencer says, jolting you in your chair to spin around and face him. His desk is near yours, across a walkway, and you hadn't registered him sitting there. You think he was nose-deep in a book when you walked in but you hadn't been paying attention. "I don't think I've seen him warm up to someone that fast," Spencer admits, leaning back in his seat and giving you a confused look, eyebrows lowered. "Actually, he's never offered to help me do my paperwork. Ever."

"That's because you read far too fast for it to actually help you," you offer, mind racing, words hollow as your thoughts are elsewhere.

Eyes trained on the windows of Hotch's office, you take his advice and relax for the few minutes before JJ comes to gather you all in the conference room. Coffee on your lips, you let yourself smile behind the rim of your mug. You can't imagine how you could think of anything other than that, really.

#bubbs.writes #criminal minds #cm #x reader #fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #shy!reader #Hotch x shy!reader #reader insert #maybe ooc #idk im always afraid of that #reblog appreciated #love u

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Hi Jade! I’ve been on my criminal minds rerun and it made me come up with this Spencer request if you’re taking them right now! Something along the lines of the reader and Spencer being together and she becomes pregnant but he pieces it together before she does!

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok♡ 1k

cw fem!reader has a positive attitude towards her pregnancy. vaguely adult theme

"I really don't think I can go," you say, flopping down on the bed.

Spencer laughs and shakes out the shirt in his hands, hoping the creases from the dryer will iron themselves before dinner tonight. "You always say that."

"I really mean it this time. I miss Hotch, I do, and I'm glad he's out of WITSEC, but thinking about the restaurant is making me queasy."

"Really? I looked it up, it's a nice place. They have their Grade A, it should be spotless in there. I'm pretty sure they almost got a Michelin star."

You groan, turning onto your side. "I looked too. The entire menu is seafood," you whine.

"What's wrong with that?" Spencer asks, giving you a quizzical look.

"The smell." You rub your nose against his pillow and sigh. "I don't feel good. Didn't rough me up in my sleep, did you?"

"I would never do that," he says, putting the last of the laundry aside to sit by your hip. His hand rests naturally against the slight curve of your side, fingertips pushing the hem of your shirt up enough to steal a glance at your back.

He wouldn't say this aloud and it doesn't matter, but you've gained a little weight recently. Actually, it does matter in that he thinks it's adorable, but he knows that telling your partner they've gained weight is a faux pas. He likes it, anyhow. It's happy weight.

Things are so serious now but they don't feel serious. There's no solemness in your relationship, just comfort. He's putting on weight in tandem.

"You really don't want to go?" Spencer asks. The earlier he lets Hotch know the better.

You wrap an arm around your stomach. "Sorry, Spence. I'm so sorry, I've felt sick all day and I think it'll just be a repeat of yesterday morning." You puked before breakfast, the smell of eggs too much to bear.

Spencer feels it click into place then and there. The weight, the puking, your changing taste. Your sore chest and lower back, your sensitivity.

He pushes you gently, a hand on your hip to encourage you down. Careful, he lays down next to you, propping his head on the pillow as he brings hand up to hold you. He can't know for sure… but if you're pregnant as he suspects, it fits. And more than that, it's insane. He doesn't know how to handle this besides wrapping you up in his arms. He'll keep you forever, if he can.

"Don't be sorry," he says, his voice faraway. You relax completely in his arms, sliding your leg over his to lock him in. "Does your back still hurt?"

"My chest, Spence," you lament, "it feels like I'm winded. I think I'm coming down with something. Maybe you shouldn't be near me."

"In that case, I'm staying right here."

You laugh softly, the warmth of it a circle on his shoulder. "I can call Hotch myself and say sorry. I'll feel better in a few days, and we'll reschedule, and I'll pay even if he tries to."

Spencer draws a line up your back. Now or never.

He steels his nerves, the beginning of a hypothesis hesitating on his tongue. Your symptoms in addition to your irregular period and your regular sex lives points toward pregnancy. How does he say that? How should he say it? Should he even bring it up? Perhaps he should wait until you discover it yourself. And you aren't definitely pregnant, it's just a possibility. Maybe you're simply sick—

"Hey, earth to handsome," you whisper, cupping his cheek in your soft palm. You smile as he snaps out of his thoughts. "Hey. I lost you for a few seconds, where'd you go?"

"Nowhere. I'm here."

Your smile gets impossibly fond. It's not dissimilar to how you usually look at him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I love you."

"I love you," you say.

There's something about you now, this gaussian blur to you. Sunlight seeps in lazily through the blinds thick as honey, a golden kiss to your skin where you lay face to face with him, and your I love you makes him want to cry. This is all ridiculous and amazing and he doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to make his mouth move into the right words.

"What is it?" you ask. You know him better than anyone.

"I think you're pregnant." Spencer winces, though he can't beat his smile into submission. "I mean. You could be pregnant."

"Why do you think that?" you ask, visibly startled.

"Your sensitivity to strong smells, your soreness, your late period, to name the more obvious. That's not factoring in your worsening low iron lately, and your headaches." You make a strange sound he doesn't like. "What?" he asks worriedly.

"I'm late," you say into yourself, looking past him as you puzzle it over.

"It's a good thing, if you are. I mean, it's an amazing thing if you want it to be. I'm saying everything wrong. It's only amazing if you want it to be, I want it to be. But I'm on your side no matter what." He grimaces into his hands, rubbing his face with both palms.

You sit as he panics. He clicks his neck looking up, racing to follow you, alarmed as you shimmy down the bed toward the ensuite bathroom.

"What are you–"

"I'm gonna take a test."

"Wait a second." Spencer catches your hands before you can get too far, pulling you back to the end of the bed to sit down. "Wait. Is it– is it bad? If you are?"

You look down at your stomach briefly. Anyone else might miss it, but Spencer can't not follow your behaviour, and the way you're acting now makes him think he got it wrong. That you won't be happy.

You grab Spencer's hand. "You know, it's not funny. All our friends are gonna ask how I found out, and I'm gonna have to admit that you noticed it first." Your eyes track up his face almost shyly, and soon your smile is as blistering as his.

Spencer bends under your weight as you jump up, throwing your arms behind his neck, your lips smashed to his ear. "I love you," you whisper urgently, "so much. This is good, right? This is really good."

"Are you kidding?" he asks incredulously.

Spencer takes your face into two hands and kisses you as hard as he ever has. He realises a second in that he'd much rather be squeezing you, caging you into the circle of his arms unrepentant.

"We have a really good excuse to miss dinner," Spencer says.

He sounds close to tears. You're worse, laughing wetly as you pull him into the bathroom to take your test.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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findmeinforks · 1 year ago

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The Incident - Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

A little one shot that I just couldn't stop writing. A good angst to fluff (btw my fics will never be all angst, im too soft). Also do not fear, Im working on a Sam fic and part 3 to not letting you go. But you let ME know what you think of this one ❤️ 2K words

"My SISTER, Paul. She's my fucking SISTER!" you yelled, voice hoarse as your throat cracked.

"I could give a SHIT LESS WHAT SHE IS. YOU'RE. NOT. GOING." He screamed, jaw taut as he tried his best to subside the tremors that were threatening to take over his body.

You ignored the teeth he bared, shaking your head and scoffing.

"Aren't you tired of this?! I'm going over there. I HAVE to know she's safe."

"YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I'LL JUST SIT BY AND WATCH MY IMPRINT GO TO A PLACE WHERE I CAN'T PROTECT HER? WHAT ABOUT ME KNOWING THAT YOU'RE SAFE?? HUH?? YOU'RE SICK IF YOU THINK I WOULD BE OKAY WITH THIS!"

"Sick?!? SICK?!? LETS TALK ABOUT HOW 'SICK' IT IS THAT YOU WOULD WANT TO KILL HER AND THE BABY. THATS MY FAMILY PAUL!"

"AND WERE NOT?"

It had been like this for a week straight. Ever since the pack stormed through the door announcing their mission to kill Bella and the unborn child within her.

You felt as though your two families had been pinned against each other. Head spinning at the idea of there being a 'choice' between your sister and imprint.

On one hand you were desperate to make sure she was alright, but also exhausted at the never ending battle with your boyfriend.

Sure you had talked to Bella over the phone, but you didn't buy into the lies like your father had. Even though you knew significantly more than he did, she still attempted to downplay the situation. She had done this numerous times since getting thrown into the vampire world, but she could only keep you in the dark for so long before you unraveled the truth.

You had to see her. Even if it was the last time. By fate, or at the hands of the pack. You had to be there for her, as she would you.

Leaving your imprint though? Was at task challenging at best. On at least four different occasions you fought with Paul for so long that Emily and Sam had to intervene, prying you two apart at the pleads of other pack members.

Emily would console you while you ranted and Sam would make Paul run off his anger in the woods. When you faced him again, it turned into a rerun of the same argument. Nobody in the house had gotten sleep, and the things were progressively getting worse.

Quil came through the door, widening his eyes.

"Just a heads up everyone, a little comedic relief does not go over well. I saw my life flash before Paul's eyes." He huffed before sitting down.

"When is this going to be overrrr?" Embry whined. He shoved his head in his hands on the kitchen table while you and Paul went at it in the front yard.

Emily sighed.

"Unfortunately sooner than you think....Y/N packed her suitcase this morning." She said quietly.

"You're not really going to let her go over there are you?!?" Kim stood up, looking at both Emily and Sam.

"If you would like to stop her, please, be my guest." Sam motioned his hand to outside, where you and Paul could be seen through the window. You were throwing your arms up and pointing fingers at him, while his voice boomed loudly, towering his large frame over yours.

Kim winced.

You had always been the calm to Paul's raging storm. 'Made him all soft' as the guys would tease. None of them had actually seen you two disagree with each other. In the mind link they saw glimpses of minor arguments, most of the time being reconciled in the sheets..

Paul eventually got an order by Sam to think about something else while on patrol. 'Literally, anything else'.

"She's not going anywhere. I can count on my hand how many times they've been apart since he imprinted. They'll work it out eventually." Jared said as he pulled Kim on his lap, taking a hunk out of his apple.

Kim didn't share a look that she believed him, worriedly looking out to where you stood.

A few moments passed when her body stiffened and she gasped, making Jared look where she was.

"SHIT! SHIT!" He said, throwing Kim off his lap.

Sam turned to look out the window in time to see Paul phase, his sharp claw making contact with your skin. Your blood curdling scream instantly had everyone else off their seats, nearly knocking each other over to race outside.

You laid on the ground as your body wracked with sobs, clutching your side. Blood gushed through your hand as you started to panic, scrambling to stand. The large silver wolf only stood for a few moments before Paul shifted back, completely horrified as he frantically tried to reach you.

He felt his heart nearly rip out of his chest as you backpedaled into Emily, who was helping to hold you upright.

"NO! NO! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! IM DONE!" You cried.

Sam stood in the middle of the two of you.

Paul could feel his chest caving in, hand out, speaking more gently than he had at all in the past week.

"B-baby. Please. Please, I'm- I'm so sorry baby. Please let me just see-"

"NO! I'm done. I'm done. I'm leaving. I'm done." You repeated like a mantra, limping to the car.

"Y/N you cannot drive like this..." Emily attempted to say as she stepped in from behind you. She could see your anxiety was heightened, and afraid to set you off further.

"I have to go," you choked, on the verge of tears as you tried to open the drivers side. You had yet to even notice the gash in your side, adrenaline pumping wildly through your body.

Paul made his way around Sam, grabbing your other arm that was holding the door.

"You are crazy if you think I'm letting you leave like this. Please come-"

You yanked your arm from his grasp.

"Don't. Let me go!" You said coldly.

Paul froze. He couldn't move. You never spoke to him like this. Even in the numerous fights you two had this week.

Every single instinct in his body needed to help you. He knew you were downplaying your injuries. He knew he just royally fucked everything up. But the absolute last thing you could do was walk into a house full of vampires dripping in blood. Fucking doctor or not.

"Come inside and let me take a look at you, okay? Please." Emily said to coax you, frantically looking at your wound.

This made Sam follow her gaze, looking down to see the blood pouring from your side hadn't stopped, and you were growing paler by the minute.

"Y/N....you're going to stay here and I'll call Sue." He said in an authoritative voice, leaving no room to argue as he turned to start dialing the number.

You almost argued. You almost fought both of them on the subject. Your stubbornness almost won.

But you felt an immense pain. So strong you don't know how the hell you didn't notice it when you stood up.

That couldn't be good.

"....Y/N?" Paul said, barely above a whisper. Tears were now silently streaming down his face as he held both hands out slightly. Not close enough to touch you but to be prepared in case you fell.

You could feel yourself start to float in and out of consciousness. You tried to ground yourself by focusing on something. You looked at his hands that were outstretched.

Those hands that you held on your first date. The hands that hover your back anywhere you go. The hands that lift you up from the couch on movie nights to bring you to bed. The hands that move in just the right way when making love to you. The hands that were now shaking, not out of anger, but fear. You loved those hands.

"Y/N? Baby?" Paul said louder, more urgently as he could see you fading.

You watched him get blurry as the world started to spin.

"Paul," you murmured, before fading into darkness. The last thing you remember were the hands that caught you before you hit the ground.

"Y/N!!!" Paul screamed as he caught your body falling into him.

Sam ran back, telling him Sue was just up the street. He instructed Paul to carry you inside and onto the bed. The pack dispersed, each trying to find something to help you such as towels, an emergency kit and pillows.

Paul held you close as he lay you down, while repeatedly whispering in your ear.

"I'm so sorry baby. I'm so-so sorry. I cant lose you. Youre everything to me. I'll never yell at you again. I swear on my life. You can do whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want. Please, I love you." Paul pressed kisses to your hairline when Sue and her nurse friend entered.

Jared reluctantly came in behind them to lead Paul out of the room as they worked.

"Come on man, she'll wake up soon I promise."

After he was guided out, Paul slid down to sit on the other side of the door, refusing to move. Jared didn't push it, leaning down to sit next to him.

"Sue's seen this kind of stuff before. Just needs stitching up and stuff," Jared reassured as he put his hand on Paul's shoulder.

"It's not the injuries I'm worried about. So much as what she'll think of me when she wakes up. I....I fucked this one up, Jare."

"If Emily can forgive Sam, I think Y/N will forgive you. She's crazy about your ass."

Paul just nodded, praying he was right.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you woke. You looked around to see that you had been bandaged up along your left side, an IV attached to your arm sat close by. You attempted to sit up, whining when the pain wouldn't allow it. Within a few minutes Emily entered, her face showing relief.

"You're up! How are you feeling?" She checked the IV before sitting on the edge of the bed, careful of your body.

"Sore...where's, where's Paul?" Your heart ached as you started to replay what happened. There was no doubt in your mind what happened was an accident. You had seen the signs he always warned you about, and chose to ignore them in the heat of the argument. Not only that, but the look on his face when you had refused him was too much to bare.

Emily smiled, not expecting you to want to see him so soon.

"He's just outside the door. Hasn't moved. He didn't know if you'd want to see him..."

"I need to talk to him."

It hadn't even been a few seconds when Paul stood at the door. He looked more out of shape than you did. The disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn't slept in days.

"I'll give you two some space. Just holler if you need anything," Emily spoke as she stood up, making her way around him and down the stairs.

Paul remained where he stood,

"If you don't want to be with me I understand. I have no words for my actions other than I am so...." he cleared his throat, trying not to cry. "So incredibly sorry I put you through this. I put you in danger when I was trying to keep you out of it. You don't have to stay I-"

"Paul please just kiss me." You interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest as you already made up your mind in forgiving him.

He stood for just a moment longer, trying to comprehend if he heard you correctly. It was when you weakly opened your arms for him that he wasted no time in rushing over to you, cupping your face and gently yet passionately kissed you with everything he had. Tears flowed his cheeks at the relief that you still wanted him. Even after everything he had put you through.

You two pulled back for air after a moment, and you ran your hand through his hair.

"I forgive you, okay? I can't imagine my life without you."

He let out a breath, smiling for the first time in weeks.

"It will never happen again. I swear on my fucking life baby." He caressed your hair, neck, landing his palm on your heart.

You two sat like that for awhile. Almost scared to leave each other's presence. You two talked for hours on the bed. Paul had confessed that the night before, while you were sleeping, the pack had fought with the Cullens. You learned that Paul refused to go, not wanting to leave your side. You were grateful to hear that Sam didn't push on him being there, knowing you were all that mattered to him, and he'd refuse him if he had too. Even if it went against his every instinct as a wolf. Turns out that Jacob had imprinted on your niece, and Bella had survived, now as a vampire.

You weren't particularly thrilled your sister was now a bloodsucker, but as long as she was alive, you were happy.

Paul eventually made his way to the other side of the bed, kissing every exposed inch of you, whispering all the things he loved about you in your ear until you fell asleep.

When your heartbeat slowed down and he was sure you were out, he reached down and felt the velvet box in his pocket. No doubt in his mind about the future you both held.

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yuquinzel · 2 years ago

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[ 2:18 AM ] — itoshi rin.

joining in on the clingy rin agenda with this :P

rin does not like disruptions to his carefully crafted schedule, specifically— his sleep schedule. he has to be in bed by 11 pm sharp and wake up at the first light of dawn for his morning jog. that's how he's always gone about his day, that's how he prefers everything to be— falling perfectly into a rhythmic routine.

but tonight is different, tonight it's almost past 2 am, long since he found himself cozy in the warmth of his blankets— and yet he lies wide awake, eyes heavy with drowsiness but not enough to close shut because itoshi rin can not sleep unless you're beside him.

he wants to blame his comforter for failing to keep him warm, but in truth he's aware that the cold pooling his sheets is only an extension from the emptiness of your side of the bed.

it looks barren, abandoned even.

it's not like you're not home, it's not like you had an argument that didn't end well and hence refuse to sleep next to him, it's not like some college assignment is keeping you awake late into the night. you're just busy watching reruns of your favourite series because it had your favourite actor and rin is too prideful to admit he's not used to falling asleep without you threading your fingers in his hair.

he told himself he can sleep just fine on an empty bed. and he believed it for about three hours.

now you find him hovering like a ghost by the end of the room, all wrapped in blankets as he's taking long and impatient strides over to where you're slumped on the couch.

“bed. now.” he says, almost a little desperate.

you spare him a glance, then back to your tv screen, “rin? why're you still awake?”

“it's cold. i'm cold. come back to bed.” you know his short and quick answers are just a reflection of how tired he truly is.

“you're cold?” you ask, and rin simply nods.

“just two more episodes rin, promise i'll come after that.” you say, eyes still set on the tv screen and rin eyes the way your eyes glimmer with awe when that actor shows up.

and then suddenly your vision is blocked, the fluorescent light from the tv casting white shadows across rin's large physique as he eclipses your view of the tv, “what's so great about him? you can watch these tomorrow, come back, i can't sleep without you.”

you're about to say what the hell rin step aside before the realisation hits, and his words replay in your mind. the gears in your head turn, an amused smile gracing your lips, “are you jealous of this actor?”

rin huffs, kneeling down so he's eye-to-eye with you, “i never said that. i said i can't sleep without you because your side of the bed is cold so it makes me cold.”

you laugh a little, and rin feels a sort of warmth tingle his skin, “but they won't air these old episodes tomorrow, and its only two more, give me like, half an hour?” you bargain, bringing a hand to cradle the side of his face, rin leaning in your warmth even more.

he ponders your words, grumbling something unintelligible as he gets up. you think he's about to leave, before he plops down next to you. adjusting himself on the couch with you with barely enough space to accommodate the both of you, rin manages to bury his face in your chest while you have to tightly wrap your arms around him to keep you from falling.

“we're gonna fall and it'll be your fault,” you breathe, and rin holds you even tighter at your words.

“no, it'll be your fault. you won't come to bed with me.”

“you're such a baby.” you laugh again, your chuckles reverberating through him with your closely pressed bodies, the comfort of it beginning to lull him to sleep like magic. he's a little grateful to the lack of space on the couch in exchange for the intimacy of this moment.

the last thing echoing in his mind before he dozes off is the sensation of your fingers running through his hair, with a light tug at times that relieves him of all his exhaustion.

sleeping on the couch is perhaps much better than the bed.

#❀˖° ─ hana writes.#I NEED HELP IM NOT OKAY #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #rin drabble #rin x reader fluff #itoshi rin fluff #rin itoshi fluff #itoshi rin

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peachhcs · 21 days ago

Text

home opener

so high school au (emma grace x gabe perreault)

gabe has pre game jitters hours before his second year’s sold out home opener

wc: 1.7k

WOW! look who finally updated this au! i made this kind of sappy lowkey but guys i promise i won’t abandon this again. send in any requests u have!

au masterlist

the first game back of the new season was always the most nerve racking game, especially with how well the boys did last season. they had a lot to live up to with the expectations that they'd win the championships in march. the conte forum completely sold out for tonight meaning the boys would have a majority of the bc student body's eyes on them.

gabe was normally never this nervous for a game considering all the ones he's played in so far, but something was picking away at his brain. he hardly focused all morning during class, mind always wandering and rerunning the plays in his head to pick away at everything he needed to work on. when he made it to the rink hours before puck drop his teammates even started noticing the forward's unusual silence.

"hey, you okay?" ryan lowered his voice while him and gabe sat in the locker room rolling out. his friend's gaze slid over to him, nodding.

"yeah, fine. why?"

"you just seem quieter than usual," the brunette pointed out with a small shrug like he didn't want to push it.

"oh. sorry. just thinking is all," the hockey player mumbled and brushed ryan's concern off.

ryan stared at gabe for another quick seconded before letting it go as well. he wasn't one to poke into his friends if they didn't want to talk, but he wasn't still slightly concerned. he's never known gabe to be this quiet before a game, so when the taller boy left the room, ryan dug his phone out.

ryan leonard

hey idk what ur doing rn but u should

come down to the rink.

emma cooper

is everything okay?

ryan leonard

i think so. gabe's just in some sort of funk

and i was wondering if he'd talk to u more

he won't talk to me

emma cooper

now that u say that i noticed it this morning

too

i'll be there in 15

if there was one person who could get to gabe besides ryan and will, it was emma. she was the only other person the boy opened up to and even then it wasn't something that happened often, but if gabe wouldn't talk to ryan, he wanted to hope he'd talk to his girlfriend.

like every pre-game ritual, gabe found an empty seat in the stands to sit with his thoughts and stare out a the rink, envisioning himself and his teammates out there with the student body yelling absurdities at the other team. sitting up in the stands really helped him visual the things he wanted to make happen tonight and remember how lucky he was to be here in the first place. the conte was a beautiful arena and the hockey player couldn't be more grateful to be a part of the history happening.

emma got to the rink 15 minutes on the dot. she walked around the outer circle, her eyes scanning into the stands for her boyfriend. she finally found him in his usual section near the middle. his legs were propped over the seat in front of him and he just looked so peaceful sitting there, the girl wondered what was running through his mind that made him so quiet.

she dropped her back near the top of the seats before quietly descending down the steps to where he was. there were a few other guys skating around the ice to just get some laps in and warm up their bodies a bit more before actual warmups. emma shuffled her way into gabe's row where he finally caught her gaze, a look of surprise on his features.

"what are you doing here so early?" he smiled nonetheless as she sat down next to him.

"class got out early so i wanted to come by," it wasn't a complete lie. emma's class did get out early 30 minutes ago, but she knew when she wanted gabe to open up to her that she couldn't just jump right into it. she needed to get him talking and then he would eventually start saying what was on his mind.

"lucky you," his hand slipped over her knee where he gave it a gentle squeeze. her own hand cupped his, slowly intertwining their fingers.

"i figured you'd be out here. hopefully i'm not interrupting your pre-game rituals," emma smiled a bit and gabe shook his head.

"you're not, i'm glad you're here. how's your day been so far?" having her here was actually a good distraction for gabe because sometimes he tended to get into his own head before he game, especially this one.

"pretty good. after i saw you this morning, i met up with morgan and we studied some before going to class. i got lunch with her and lindsey and then i had my second class and now i'm here," this was gabe's favorite part. he loved hearing about emma's day and catching up on the things he missed while they were apart.

"sounds exciting. are morgan and lindsey coming later?"

"morgan might be, but tyler is. he's been looking forward to opening night for like months," the two shared a laugh.

"i've heard. he's told me every time he's seen me how excited he is," a grin painted the boy's lips. he always loved how supportive emma and tyler were and tried showing up to every home game.

"don't even get me started. all he's been talking about is hockey and swimming to me," emma chuckled again, shifting further into her seat so she could find a spot for her head on gabe's shoulder. the boy leaned his head onto hers, his little curls tickling the top of her forehead.

"so how are you feeling?" emma began her slight prying. gabe shrugged beneath her head.

"okay," he was brief which she expected.

"are you nervous at all?"

the boy hesitated for a moment like he was debating on telling the truth. it wasn't that he didn't want to open up to her, he's just never really opened up about things before until

last year when they started dating, so this was all very new territory for the darker-haired boy. although, emma did make it easy and he's never felt more comfortable opening up to her when he did find the courage.

"kind of," he finally admitted.

"that's okay. it is the first game back," the blonde hummed.

"i think that's why i'm nervous. it just feels like a lot of pressure, you know? we have a lot to live up to this year," gabe continued his thoughts, slowly opening up what's been picking a part his brain for the last few hours.

"yeah, i think i get it. don't be too hard on yourself though. you're gonna play great this season," emma lifted her head so she could see gabe's face. the two exchanged a glance and he mustered his best smile.

"yeah, i know. just nervous, but i'll be fine. i guess it's also because we're playing without will and not saying oskar isn't a great player, he's phenomenal, it will just be different. it sounds stupid," the boy quickly shook his head, worried he sounded pathetic that he was missing his friend and the line they all had.

emma quickly frowned for a second realizing they finally hit the true reason gabe's been so quiet and spacey. she curled her arm around his, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"hey, it's not stupid, p. it's the first time you guys aren't playing together since you were like 16. that's a lot. it's normal to feel weird about it," emma quickly reassured her boyfriend who flushed.

"i guess i just wish the last time we all played together was actually gonna be the last time. we all thought we'd have another year together at least," the boy continued with a small frown.

"have you called him at all? i'm sure he'd appreciate hearing from you guys. maybe it will help ease some of your nerves," the girl suggested because whenever her brother was nervous about his swim meet, he'd their parents and it'd instantly make him feel better.

"yeah, maybe i will."

"it could help. it's not stupid to miss your best friend, gabe, but i know you guys are gonna do really well tonight. i'll be here too," her words made him smile as he quickly leaned over to place a gentle kiss to her head.

"thank you, sorry i was so weird about it. i'm still working on this whole opening up thing," he grimaced, but emma quickly shook her head.

"don't apologize, p. you're doing really great. i love you. i'm gonna run back to my place to change, but i'll see you at the game. do you need anything else?" the blonde wondered as she sat up, gabe quickly missing the feeling of her so close to him.

"i don't think so, i love you too. hurry back, i wanna see you before we go on," he squeezed her hand, reluctantly letting it go for now. she blew him a big kiss.

"i will," with that, emma hurried back up the stairs to grab her backup and rush back to her apartment.

feeling a lot better than before, gabe got himself up and headed back into the locker room. ryan was still at his stall doing some of his tape job. he eyed his friend as he passed.

"doing okay?" the brunette asked again. this time gabe had a more confident nod.

"yeah, i am. i was thinking about calling will before the game? would you wanna talk to him?" the darker-haired boy fished for his phone in his backpack. ryan quickly smiled.

"for sure. i'll always talk to smitty," he got up to sit closer while gabe pressed the call button.

the line connected a moment later, "hey!" will's voice cheered.

gabe quickly smiled, the weight lifting off his shoulders as the three friends caught themselves up and the other bc boys occasionally chimed in with their own hellos to will and expressed how much they missed him.

will echoed their sentiments and promised he was gonna watch the game in a few hours.

he must've been their lucky charm because boston won the game 4-2 in the home opener, already setting the precedent for the rest of the exciting season.

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harrysmimi · 1 year ago

Text

Gotchu!

Coffee And Pancakes series P13

Synopsis: YN pranks Harry after he's returned home from the gym

Idea courtesy to @vrittivsanghavi

Series Masterlist | More of my work

It was a day off for YN, so she decided to spend it at home.

She has been making a crochet bag for her mother-in-law for her birthday which was coming up soon. She cosied up on the sofa with a cup of tea with a rerun of her favourite show on, taking in some alone time. She had dropped off Milo to the vet for his checkup, surgery and vaccine updates this morning, he's due pick up in the evening. And she went grocery shopping for few things she needs to try out this new baking recipe.

Though Harry will be home soon, he had to rush to a quick meeting and then he went to the gym for a little. He came home way too soon.

YN heard the door open and close as Harry walked in dressed in his workout clothes and cup of coffee in his hand. His tote bag hung over his shoulder.

"Hey baby." He smiled at her, "I'm just gonna go take a shower real quick and be with you, yeah?"

"Hi, yes of course." YN nodded, and sat there starting on her new project.

Anne loved one of YN's bag she made and wore on one of their girls day out, since then YN's been wanting to make one for her. Her birthday was coming up so it was the best occasion to take advantage of. Gift giving is really nit her thing, so this was a golden opportunity for her there.

Harry's been jealous. He wants one too but he steals her bag everytime so he doesn't really know how to ask for one. He felt stupid. But at the same time it warmed his heart to see how the women who raised him get along so well with the woman he fell in love with.

He's honestly got to up his game of birthday presents for his mum after this. It's always been his forte, but a handmade gift has special value to it to everyone.

YN had been asking him what colour he thinks his mum would like the bag to be. It was a tricky choice to make without letting Anne can not know about this. It is a surprise.

"It's coming along right?" Harry asked he sat next to her, freshly showered and shirtless with droplets of water still shining on his shoulders and chest. YN rught away snuggled to his side.

"This is the last square for the bag." She said as she continued to crochet.

"That colour looks very pretty by the way." He added.

"Yeah? I'm making you one too." She beamed at him in excitement, "you can take this one and I'll give Mummy Anne the other one."

"Oh, thank you love." He chuckled watching her go back to do her thing, "I've been wanting to ask you to make ine for me, but didn't wanted to bother you."

"Please, you're never a bother to me." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah--" Harry realised something, "baby, where's Milo? He's usually attacking my feet by now." Harry asked looking around.

YN was too busy counting up the stitches on the crochet piece, or was she? Actually she was cooking a plan to prank him in that moment. She's the bored okay!

"He's in the Man Cave you built you or he must asleep in some nook." She shrugged, which had Harry immediately jumping up to go look for their fur baby.

"Did he eat McFish--" he checked the aquarium but the fish was the swimming around with the secure lid still on. "No, baby, did he fell into toilet bowl again?"

"You just came from the bathroom, didn't you see?" YN called from him as he frantically ran to their only bathroom to check.

Milo was just learning to adjust to the closed litter box, which was kept in the bathroom obviously and being the cat he is, he jumped on the box and accidentally falling into the toilet bowl. It was his fault that he didn't closed the lid.

YN had to bathe him twice after that, because well he doesn't let Harry give him the baths. Yeah, he's that spoilt. But Harry still loves him, he's just grown to bond with Milo. Even though the kitten always tries to trip and make him fall the best he could, or when he just attacks his dad's toes for no apparent reason. No, no, he doesn't do that to his mum, he's in fact very cuddly and sweet with her. Well, occasionally the cat likes to cuddle with Harry but that's very rare. That doesn't change the fact he loves that cat to bits.

"He's not there." He announced, "baby can you please put that down? We can find the cat!"

"Check in his man cave, dude!" She tried to break out laughing the best she could, acting nonchalant as Milo does like to be on his own sometimes.

Harry walked upto the little-- well it's not very little box fixed seven feet above the ground for Milo to sit in and rule over his kingdom along with wooden steps and comfiest bedding inside. The cat even sleeps in it at night. Harry had it custom made for just him, with facy ass design and his name plate on the front. Harry called it: Milo's Man Cave.

News flash, Milo isn't in his man cave.

"We have the balcony all netted and shit, where is he?" Harry was stressing out now. "Did you leave the door open by any chance?"

"Uhhh, no..." YN tried to act like she is not very sure and surprisingly it worked.

"Baby, no don't fuck with me like that!" Harry gasped as he ran into the bedroom to grab a shirt. He was soon heading out the door to check but YN's phone started ringing so he stopped thinking someone might have found him. He's microchipped, and got a collar with his name YN's number on it (not his for his privacy and as a prevention from getting his number leaks). He was teary eyed by now.

"Hello Ms. YLN, this is Amy from Medivet. How are you doing today?" The girl on the line spoke.

Now YN doesn't have her phone on speaker but Harry could hear the girl speaking through. It was Milo's vet. But he's still anxious.

"Hello, I'm good, thanks and you?" YN said politely.

"I'm doing fine. I've called you to let you that Milo is ready to be taken home, so you can come pick him up." The girl sounded very upbeat.

Harry immediately pulled out his phone to check, it was Milo's appointment day and his turn to tak him there. Fuck did she just pranked him?

"Yeah, I'll come pick him up in fifteen. Thank you, Amy." YN spoke before the girl was bidding her bye and hanging up.

"That was not good." He sniffled as he went on to grab his car keys with a puppy face on.

"Harry, I'm sorry!" She cooed rushing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Got anxious!" He sighed, "he's just too little."

"I know, I'm sorry, don't cry please." She tried to hug him.

"God my heart in beating fast," he sat down on the dining table chair.

"Hey, I'm sorry I was just trying to prank you." She felt embarassing now as she now hugged him. With her hand rested on his chest she could really feel how fast his heart was beating then which made her feel even more mad and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Hazza."

"Just don't." He gently pushed her away. "This isn't funny, YN."

"I'm sorry." She repeated herself, now with her own eyes getting teary and a puppy face on she stood there in the corner.

Now, Harry doesn't usually get upset. He's just that caring and understanding but when he rarely does, he gets really badly upset. This seemed to be one of those rare times and he used her first name in ages. She just grabbed her car keys and slipped on her slippers to go pick up the baby.

"Hey, hey, hey, I was just kidding!" He rushed to pull her back giggling, "gotchu!"

"God you little shit, can't just turn this around on me!" She whined now crying like a baby in defeat.

"Don't you cry now." He wiped off her tears, "not going to lie, you did get me until I heard Medivet. Got you back though." He seemed proud of himself as he tightly hugged her.

"No, go away!" She tried to push him off but he barely budged.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"No, move, I have to pick him up." She now managed to pull away.

"Hey come on, this is not fair!" He whined, "well... Baby I'm sorry." He grabbed her face cooing as he placed sloppy wet kisses in her cheek and mouth. It took him a second to realise that. "You sit and relax, I will make the trip to get him."

"Okay." She nodded.

"Am I forgiven?" He asked, to double check.

"Am I?" She countered.

"Of course you are, my darling." He placed another kiss on her mouth and got one right back.

"You are too then." She finally smiled.

"Okay, bet back in thirty, yeah?" He placed a few more kisses on her face.

"Yeah." She nodded.

"I love you!" And she recieved another kiss.

"I love you too!" She reciprocated, "now go bring our son home."

"Yes, yes." He quickly put his shoes on before he was headed out, "oh, keys!"

"Here." She handed him her car key as she was holding it, with that he was heading out again.

......................................................................

N O T E :

This is not how I intended it to go but dayummmm this is hilarious!!!!!! *cries"

......................................................................

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pullhisteeth · 2 years ago

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in which Eddie's love languages are quality time and acts of service - and you're a commitmentphobe

something small that came to mind the other day (I definitely do not do the annoying thing of never doing the things I commit to, no, definitely not). it's a lil bit christmassy so sorry about that lol. college!au, gn!reader, etc etc. fluff. 1.4k.

so you do this thing which you are convinced pisses all your friends off, where you declare that you're going to do something - wash the dishes, finally fold your laundry, finish a book, braid your hair, go to the gym, bake something - and then never do it. it happens far too often and you are so sure it drives them mad, Nance and Robin surely rolling their eyes at one another when you once again flop down on the couch and resolve that today will be the day that you repot the plants in your dorm room.

and it does. they're your friends, but friends can be irritating despite how much we love them regardless, and it's maybe one of your bigger flaws.

they groan about it between themselves sometimes, the same way you do with Robin when Nancy ditches girls night to finish another piece for your college newspaper, or the way you do with Steve when you catch Robin in another conversation with the cute girl behind the counter at the campus café who she still hasn't asked out. every single time, she joins the two of you with that look on her face that says, not this time, folks, sorry.

they often brush off your declarations of intent, humming without paying much interest, and you know it, of course. you also know they're your friends, so it's their job to put up with this.

but then there's Eddie. Eddie is a new friend, as of the months before summer break, though his presence at nights out or evenings in with the whole gang is so concrete he may as well have been here the whole time.

Eddie is also incredibly pretty. he throws you off guard often with his throwaway compliments ("you look great tonight, sugar") and those hands he fails to keep to himself. they land on the small of your back sometimes when you're leaving the bar. other times his knee nudges yours when you're sat beside each other during movie night. and, worst of all, sometimes his fingers brush yours as you walk, and it takes everything in you not to grab hold and never let go.

one evening, you've come home from class and changed into pyjamas and you're padding sullenly through the apartment you share with Nancy and Robin. like clockwork, you throw yourself onto the empty couch and say: "tomorrow I'm gonna go on a long walk."

"right," you hear Robin mutter from where she's sat on the other couch, her eyes trained on the complicated looking crochet project in her lap. Nancy's out but Steve and Eddie are sat at your dinner table - they may as well live here, you sometimes think - working on assignments.

"I'll come with you," Eddie says.

it surprises you; normally the only acknowledgement of these whims you ever get are the uninterested noises from Robin or Nancy.

"you will?" you return, turning your head to look away from the ceiling and over at Eddie.

"sure," he says, still looking at the assignment on the table in front of him. he's holding his forehead, pinching it in concentration. he looks pretty in the ebbing sunlight, as usual.

"sweet," you mutter back.

and he does. he sticks to his word, turning up sometime mid-morning the next day with a thick coat on and two coffees in takeaway cups. you wander with him around the park near campus and try your hardest to keep your expectations low.

he's a friend. it's not a date.

the following week you're back on the couch, watching a rerun of Golden Girls, and you let your eyes wander around the room, paying little attention to the television. you stare up at the plants hanging from the top of the cabinet by the door, and the ones on the windowsill.

"I'm gonna do it," you say. "I'm gonna repot them."

"mm-hmm."

Nancy's at the dinner table, scribbling away on various pieces of paper. she gives you the usual hum of okay, sure, yeah without looking up at you.

"need a hand?" Eddie asks. he's on the other couch, halfway through a joint.

you turn over onto your side to look at him.

"yeah, okay. wanna go to the garden centre?"

"only if we can look at the fish."

"obviously."

this cycle continues. every few days, your dramatic commitment to a new thing will go unnoticed by your seasoned friends, but Eddie won't let whatever it is go. when you tell them you're going to go to the beach, for some fresh air, he offers to drive you there. when you declare that you're going to bake them some bread, and finally learn how to kneed, he brings you bread flour and promises he'll bake weed brownies with you one day. and when you decide that today is the day that you'll take your resumé to the cafe round the corner, he looks it over with you and walks you over. I could do with a coffee, he tells you.

you get the job, starting a week later. you're working 3 shifts a week between classes and sometimes closings shifts roll into the evenings, when you'd usually be doing nothing in your little living room with your friends. on these nights, when it's dark before you finish, Eddie is always stood beside the back door as you leave. the first time it happened he said he'd been on his way home from class and had spotted you cleaning up inside so thought he'd wait for you, but then it happened two days later, when you know he doesn't have any afternoon classes. and so after every late shift you emerge from the back door to find him smudging out a cigarette with his shoe, and he looks up at you and smiles, and you walk with him two blocks back to your apartment.

after a month or two, you're on another close. it's December and you're on your last shift before you hitch a ride back to Hawkins.

"he's out there again," your boss mutters as he comes in from emptying the trash.

"hmm?"

"your boyfriend. does he have to smoke out there?"

you feel yourself warm, the bloom of embarrassment and something more under your skin.

"he's not my boyfriend. I'll ask him to stop smoking, though."

"some friend you got then, walkin' you home every night."

you don't respond, bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile. you speed through everything else on the list and grab your jacket and bag when your boss waves you off with a half-hearted happy holidays, and skip a little too quick out the fire door behind the kitchen.

sure enough, here he is, though tonight feels different. you quickly spot him smudging the cigarette out, but as your eyes drift back up they land on something colourful in his hand.

he looks up when he hears the door but he doesn't smile like usual; instead it's small, laced with apprehension. but it blossoms when you grin at him, so wide your eyes nearly close.

"good shift?" he asks.

"hm, it was okay. what've you got?"

you step closer and look down to see that it's a pretty bunch of flowers.

"uh, I... if I don't do this now, I owe Steve fifty bucks."

you look up at him, confused. "what?"

"wanna go get dinner?"

the bliss that swells inside your chest feels like enough to lift you off your feet. you grin again, and he smiles back.

"Eddie Munson, are you taking me on a date?"

he looks down at his feet, bashfully kicking the stub of his cigarette with one shoe.

"I mean, I thought the walks home and everythin' were obvious enough, but..."

you giggle at him, thinking about all the evenings he'd drop you home without more than a hug goodbye, leaving you kicking yourself for thinking this could be anything more than good friends.

"my fault," you say. "wanted to say something, but I'm not good at committing to stuff."

"nah," he says, looking up at you again. "you just needed a hand gettin' it done."

lifting the flowers, he holds them out for you to take. as you do, he takes your bag and, before you can protest, slings it over his own shoulder. they're pretty, deep reds and purples.

"these are beautiful, Eddie."

he smiles back at you and brings his hand to the small of your back, as always, as you leave.

walking down the street, past closed-up shops in the cold, your hands brush his as he gets closer and closer. you seize the opportunity, finally committing to something, and wind your fingers between his.

#something a lil cheesy for this dreary monday!#I am so touch starved #LMAO #anyway here u go #eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you

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junedenim · 5 days ago

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2012

beneath the boardwalk, part 10 (series masterlist)

why'd you only call me when you're high?

warnings: a whole lot of angst, temptation, nostalgia, and nothing

word count: 10.4k

Squished between two couch cushions watching Real Housewives, I got a call from Alex. "Did I wake you?" He questioned. It was late or early depending on who you asked. I had been woken up from a cold I was suffering from. He had never gone to bed.

"No, no, I'm just sitting around, suffocating," I complained. His voice was rough, but not thick with phlegm like mine. He chuckled in a rhythmic format, beat after beat. He sounded like he was sinking into himself, his flesh turning to goo. I heard his lips smack together as if he was chewing on a piece of hay. I coughed, the harshness reaching him miles and miles away. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I think he was chewing gum. "Just got home."

I hummed with understanding. "Did you have a nice night?"

He made a noise of indifference. "How long you been sick?"

"Two days now and it's not getting any better." I sniffled and stuffed a tissue up my nostril, thankful that I lived alone. "Think I caught it at a New Year's Party. I'm worried I have mono."

"Why? You've been kissing a bunch of people?" His words hung in the middle of us. Both of us moving on from one another had been unspoken. We were still on a break for all intents and purposes, even if he was with Arielle. Another thing we never talked about.

I gave the best laugh I could do without coughing. "It's supposed to be good luck. I also ate 12 grapes and banged bread against the wall."

"Did you really?" He amusingly asked.

"No, well, not the bread part." I sighed. "Now, I'm just sitting on the couch watching shitty reruns. I can't fall back asleep."

"Neither can I," he said.

I hesitated and curled up under my blanket. "Is that why you called me at 4 in the morning?" I said it with a laugh to ease any tensions that may arise.

"It's only 1 here."

"Right. I forgot about the time difference." It didn't seem right for him to be so far away permanently. None of this seemed like the correct order of things. It was a misalignment but there could be no corrective measure.

"Yeah, I kind of did too." There was a pause like he was thinking things over. Like he might have had something to say but now he couldn't find it. "I'll let you go then." In more ways than one.

Alex was a cloud. He was away on tour, far away and out of reach. We talked less but not intentionally. We both just got really busy and we didn't need each other for that constant contact anymore. I was plummeting toward the wildest time of my life and he was up to his usual unable-to-contact schedule. Somewhere in Australia first then opening for The Black Keys. Plus, he had Arielle.

The new girlfriend thing didn't bug me much, at least, not in the form of jealousy. It was a strange thing. I hadn't fully adjusted to the idea but it was much easier when he was nowhere near my life. If it had happened when we were younger, I think I would've punished myself for it, but I had grown into a far lighter figure who understood not everyone was trying to make a mark against me. Alex was living his own life, which for the past few years had been dedicated to one person. It was "seeing what else was out there."

I was alone for the most part. I saw Jackson nearly every day, whether for work or leisure, but I was getting used to being alone for long grasps of time. I spent time writing in my notebook like the old days. A therapy session that I locked away in a drawer. I rotted in my room for days. I watched all of The Sopranos, practiced the splits, and thought about getting a cat. It was winter and a very boring time.

But around the end of January, I did my first interview. It was small and nothing huge, but it was talking about my work in-depth for the first time with a stranger. I pretended I was talking to Alex.

Alex and I didn't stop talking completely. I called him on his birthday, briefly, and we had a long chat toward the end of January where we caught up with one another. Neither of us had much to tell. He had been touring. I had been crawling around New York doing next to nothing, besides book matters and talking about my "marketability."

Alex laughed at this. "Yeah, they tend to do that. Try to whittle you down to one trait."

"It's making me feel insecure." I laughed at it but it felt small inside me, burning its way out.

Alex hummed in agreement. "Well, at least you're not a pimple-ridden kid doing it."

It wasn't something he talked about much. He hated people giving him attention, yet he was in a career that commanded eyes to be focused on him. It was one of our many skimmed-over conversations. In some ways, it made me feel like I didn't know Alex. We both hid parts of ourselves from one another and knew that the other did this. That burning curiosity we used to have probably went out once we started to live with one another. You know someone for long enough that it begins to feel like you know every inch of them. I slept with him night after night but I wondered if I ever knew what was ticking on in his head before he fell asleep. What was he thinking when he sat outside with a closed notebook? Why did he turn away?

I didn't even know why I turned away. I wrote repeatedly in my notebook, questioning why I couldn't make it work with Alex. I resisted jumping into a relationship because of that. If I couldn't make it work with Alex then it probably wouldn't work with anyone, especially during that portion of my life. I didn't know what it meant to be alone, like really alone.

I deflected a lot. I even deflected earlier in this book. I was devastated by the loss of Alex and I don't think it hit me until much later because I always had an anvil weighing on the back of my head telling me it wasn't over. Arielle complicated those ideals and I think for a while I was on my back unable to regain upright status. I was flailing.

That's why I paused. When 2012 hit, I was forced into a corner. I felt distant from who I was but still so far away from who I was becoming. I felt like I was the roots of the tree that had been cut down. I was left to be a stump.

One night, over a joint, I told Jackson I didn't feel British. Jackson, a Californian boy through and through, did not understand this. He laughed from the high while the smoke just made me more disoriented. He told me that I was "perfectly British." To me, that sounded like some marketing strategy. That's what the book would be marketed as—a British girl coming to America; her cold skin meeting the California sun. It made me hate the book. Or I hated myself, the lines were blurring.

I thought I had grown away from forms of jealousy. I have just previously insisted to you that I experienced no feelings of envy toward Arielle...but I did. It was ignored and then it couldn't be. The "R U Mine?" music video featured Arielle and a "new" Alex. I'm not a fan of the insinuation Alex suddenly changed after we broke up, besides his hair and fresh Sheffield tattoo, I would come to know Alex was exactly the same. Alex never quite changes. He's always been suave. It's hard to take a 20-year-old as seriously as a 25-year-old, especially when he is still pimple-ridden.

I found my jealousy toward Arielle in regard to "R U Mine?" was the same as when Alex showed me "Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts" because, honestly, since then Alex's only explicit romantic muse (the word makes me want to barf, but that's what I was) was me. It's the weird thing of being with a writer, especially with personal subjects. It's beautiful when it's for you but then you realize that it was never really for you. It was about you. Alex didn't write a song to make me feel loved. He wrote a song because he liked writing songs.

Unknowingly, I always felt that. It's why I didn't swoon every time I heard "Mardy Bum." I loved it as a song but it didn't feel like a love letter. I felt Alex's love in far different ways. As the years went on, I would find love letters in songs, but at the center, I found his love in crevices: a note from college, a smoke outside a pub, a cooked meal, folded laundry—god, I sound old.

But his love wasn't restricted to those songs. Just as my love isn't restricted to this tome. This is a love letter in pieces for Alex but it's also for my youth. I found around this time, I began to reflect on those early years. Nearly 10 years out from 2003, I became a preservationist. I jotted down my memory of my first conversation with Alex. I tucked it away in my drawer, no use for it yet.

Alex called me on my birthday. He wasn't too far away, somewhere between Portland and Boston on a bus. It was late with only an hour left to my birthday, which I had spent drinking with friends. It was a rather simple birthday. It could've been just another night, minus the cake (red velvet with frosted flowers on top of it) that Fennel and Kaka purchased for me.

Alex texted me in the morning. Something akin to Hey. Happy birthday. Al.

It was formal and if it didn't make me laugh so much I think I'd be hurt by it. But Alex always texted like that as if he was penning a letter. The letter was awfully short but it was sent at 4 AM, which made me believe he either had no sleep or had just woken up.

I was expecting more and I got more. When I was drunk.

"Hi," I said, shoving the phone to my ear as a subway train came roaring by.

He chuckled, hearing the noise. "Hi." He waited for it to pass fully before continuing, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Did you spend it good?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty drunk."

"Alright, then, I won't keep you long."

"No," I insisted. "Stay on the phone with me." I was pleading. I didn't want to let go of him. "At least, until I'm home." I wasn't far away but I lied and acted like I was further away, keeping him on the line with me, even as we lost connection at various times.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything," he said halfway through the subway ride.

"I didn't get you anything,” I reminded him.

"Yeah. Feels weird."

We hummed in silence because we both knew how abnormal this was. We weren't friends. Alex and I were never friends. Nothing ever went away or could ever go away. We were struggling to redefine what we were. We could never disentangle from one another. It pulled us back toward one another, even when we shouldn't have.

"I was going to get you that, uh, milkshake maker so you wouldn't have to pay extra at Morgenstern's for one." I didn't know a person could get so emotional over a milkshake maker that they would feel like crying on the F train. I might be the only person ever.

It was such a stupid gift. I would probably get two uses out of the machine before it broke and it wouldn't be as good as Morgenstern's makes theirs and it would go to waste. Still, I can imagine if he did get it for me. How after I unwrapped it we would go to Morgenstern's and get a pint of ice cream and Alex would make me a milkshake. One just for me. If I was feeling generous enough, we'd share the straw.

None of this would have happened, even if we were together. He'd still be in between Portland and Boston and I'd still be riding the F, wishing he was with me. It was comforting that maybe I had done the right thing, even if it felt so hard.

"Well, you can get it for me for Christmas."

He laughed and said, "Okay."

Black leather loafers with black wool flannel trousers. A white poplin shirt, two buttons loose at the top and at the bottom. I had a black corduroy jacket that Jackson held for me. I felt like I was dressing up in my mother's clothes. I was doing book press. It was an unfitting experience but I held the hardcover book in my hand. It felt unnatural but I liked my authour's photo.

By that point, I was so far removed from the contents of the book. I started to second-guess it even coming out. It felt like my diary, even if it was evasive at times and cut out the personal from that time (Alex is not mentioned once, not even as the person I moved to LA for). Still, it was exposing, but it was real now and it was sitting in my hand.

Alex came to town a week later, opening for The Black Keys. I didn't see the show—things were getting too busy by that point. I asked Alex if we could meet for a quick lunch and he accepted.

We met at Westville, a cute restaurant, but by no means romantic. I felt a need for that to be clear. I worried about Arielle worrying that I was trying to "steal" Alex or whatever that meant. I don't think she ever did. After all, she had the guy and I was resigned with no longer having the guy. It wasn't the bitch fight it has been imagined to be.

I waited for Alex outside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette to achieve my all-time high of cigarettes per day (this was not a good year for my lungs). I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wanted to look cool but relaxed. I wore the previously mentioned black loafers to make it look like I didn't roll out of bed and throw some jeans on.

Alex wore the same thing: jeans, T-shirt, loafers...and a leather jacket. It was a hotter March day when spring was beginning to peek through and relieve the bitterness of winter. He was across the street stuck at a streetlight and I waved to him and he waved back. Then, we just stared at each other, waiting for the light to turn green.

He crossed, said hi, and hugged me. Every move was made with slight awkwardness. We hadn't been alone together since he moved out. "Have you been waiting long?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Got here early, just for a smoke. Do you want to go in now?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He bobbed his head.

I put my cigarette out and he followed me into the restaurant. "Your hair is back to normal." My natural brown. It was better for me to not play pretend when promoting a book about my own life.

"Yours isn't," I commented. It came off snarkier than I wanted it to.

He shrugged and smiled to ease the thick fat of awkwardness. "Yeah, well, you know." He didn't say it but this was the new normal for him, which was fine, but it was different from what I knew. When I dreamed about him or pictured him, it was still with a curling mop top or, you know, just the mop if I was dreaming of '09.

"Tattoo too," I added.

"Yeah."

"You're a changed man."

"Yeah."

Our heads ducked down and we stared at the menus in silence. It was a challenge of who would speak first—seriously speak, not those little comments over what looks good.

After we ordered, I said, "Sorry I'm not able to go tonight."

He waved me off. "You've already been to too many shows. Don't worry."

"Well, I like going. It feels weird not to go."

"Yeah." Somewhere in that word, I knew what he meant. It had been years since Alex had the ability to spot people in the crowd, but he told me once that there was a comfort in knowing I was somewhere in there, that even if he messed up, there would always be someone there at the end of it all. I wonder if he was still getting used to someone else being at the end of it all.

He sipped his water to cut off the look on his face. I decided to cut to the fat of it. "I, uh, have something to give you."

"Why do I feel like it's something bad?" He cracked a laugh, lifting the air in the room.

I picked up my bag. "I hope not."

I dug through my things slowly. It was held in my hands but I still had to catch my breath before I lifted it out. I saw a squint on his face as he tried to imagine what it was. I passed it across the table and his hands took it. That is when it all started to feel real; seeing his eyes land on it, his hands run down its spine with him smiling. "It's a first edition," I joked.

He raised an eyebrow, flipping it open. "Is it signed?" I laughed. I'm not sure what made me happier: him holding my book or joking around with him again. He opened the other end of the book. "Good author photo."

"I'm quite happy with it." Somewhere in that bittersweetness, I did feel content. It was never how I imagined him holding my first book. Parts of me were swallowed with sorrow that I would never experience this in the way I wanted—a desperate romantic lovemaking all-consuming kind of way—but there were small parts in me that were happy that we could still have this. I don't know if we kept dragging things out this would have been as joyous. That this would have felt like closure.

Alex looked up, meeting my eyes. A small smile played on his lips. The kind that can't be faked in any way. It was real and from the hurt. It was that pride he always had in me. The pride that kept me going for far longer than I'd ever imagined. I wrote the book, but he made the book. I never would've written anything close to it without him. I'd probably be stuck fucking Robert in London if it wasn't for him. It was my reassurance to him that he didn't have to make up for the sudden move to LA as he constantly tried to do. He wasn't in the book, but he was the book. It's why I dedicated it to him. It's why on the last page of his edition of the book I wrote: Don't make fun of me, Al. Thank you for this. I hope you know why. Love, Jane C.

I questioned the "love" part. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable but it would have been far more awkward to write something like "sincerely." I wasn't one for lying, especially about my love for Alex. It was something layered. It didn't rest in that romantic love. He wasn't just my boyfriend and he wasn't just my best friend. It's hard for a writer to find the word. It's nudged somewhere in this book. In all these little words.

"I wanted you to be the first to have it," I said. "Well, one of the first. Wanted to see the look on your face."

He looked back down at the book. Mild disbelief spread across his face as he looked back and forth between the book and me. "Thanks." He wasn't sure what else to say. He rolled everything around and looked as if he was choking on the bone of a chicken.

"It's been a little weird these past few months," I said while picking at my fingernails, an assured sign to Alex that I was referring to us. "I don't want it to feel weird. So, don't cry or anything," I joked.

He chuckled, dislodging the lump. He flipped the book over one more time before placing it on the table. "I'll try not to. I knew you could do it." He stared right at me, emphasizing every little syllable. The awkwardness faded from him and he leaned onto the table. His smile was small but bright. I could find a million different meanings in it, each meaning just as much.

"I know you did. You always did," I told him. "I had this dream last night. It was weird and blurry but we were driving around Sheffield or some weird ghost thing was driving us. It's hard to describe. I don't know. I think it was a sign or something. I'm not sure of what but just those early days of us talking. That's when I really started to write. I suppose my mind was thinking about this lunch and conjured up some old memories."

He smiled at me the whole time, eyes never leaving me, even when I glanced away. "Well, I had a dream that I was one of the animals left off of Noah's Ark, so, you tell me what that means."

I told him it had something to do with his fear of being left behind and he rolled his eyes and said I was trying to be Freud. Lunch came and we ate and laughed and agreed to split the check. He told me he would read the whole book tonight if he could. We hugged goodbye and he whispered in my ear, "I'll send you a proper review."

A few days later, Alex emailed me. It was long. Very long and detailed like he had taken a note on every page. He pulled the sentences he liked the most out, which turned out to be about half the book. I would later write back and ask what that meant for the other half of the book. He said they were left off Noah's Ark too. Continuing his initial email, Alex wrote at the bottom:

You did it. I hope you feel that too. Thank you, Al.

I had a book tour. A minimal one since there wasn't the highest of expectations and I didn't want to go to Omaha, Nebraska. So, there was Boston, New York, Atlanta, Chicago, Houston, and Los Angeles. I hated the whole thing. I always wanted to go to these places but I wasn't really going to these places. We lingered in Chicago at the end of July, but it was the equivalent of touring with Alex, except this time I was Alex.

I've never enjoyed talking about my work either but it was nice that people thought it was nice. But that part still felt awkward to me too. Like, people actually read this??? It eased up as it went along. It was a short tour anyway. I wasn't going to Tokyo or anything.

I thought about myself a lot. It was a little lonely but I had adapted to that. Jackson was my only company on the road and it was easy for us to get sick of one another. We had both grown bored with one another, both slightly exhausted from these months so closely intertwined. I thought about Al, often. I thought about myself, often.

Could it be possible that I did everything right? No. I never thought that but I didn't think I did everything wrong. I had cracks in the surface of me and guts that spilled out. I said everything with my pen but nothing with my lips. I hid myself under the disguise of a freshly lonesome girl who knew the only means to move on was to forget. But I didn't forget anything, only myself, just for a little. Pieces of me dropped on the side of the highway. We drove for days and I found no meaning in it, only wondering did he feel like this all the time? How did he bear this loss of self?

I asked myself questions and never got any answers. I felt everything but there was never any meaning in it. There were closed-off vessels, no means to transport blood or oxygen, yet, I was still moving. I suppose that was the only thing left to cling to. I still had the memory of it and those never made me sad. I experienced it. How fortunate was I to be cracked open and exposed to this impenetrable love? I still felt it. We were both on the end of the same wire. It was bent and twisted, knots made to keep strong but disrupt transmission. No love lost. Just changed. I know good comes from change. I didn't feel the goodness but I could taste it coming. So much else was happening. I would hate myself forever for wasting those precious few days of enjoyment in place of a relationship that didn't need nourishment anymore. It was about me. I wanted it to be about me for so long and it finally was. Don't waste it.

The mini-tour ended in LA at the start of August. Summer had whipped me in the face so hard I forgot the season even existed, until I was stuck in the sweaty, SoCal heat, dying for a drop of water. The first night—the day before the Q&A and book signing—Jackson and I got dinner and drinks with Opal.

It was nice to let loose after feeling so pinned up for most of the summer. The liquor soothed my sunburnt skin and I decided the tour as a whole wasn't too bad—I was about 3 drinks in at this point. Then, after another drink, I texted Alex telling him I was in town. The last we chatted was a week or so before when the band opened for the London Olympics. I watched it later on YouTube and told him he did a bang-up job. He told me he nearly shat himself.

Alex had returned to LA since. The city had become his permanent home since the tour had ended. He bought a house out here and everyone in the band, for the most part, had relocated too. So, in my drunken state, I told him I was there and we should hang before I went back to New York.

When I woke up, it was an embarrassing text of I'm in LA, AL. Even in my drunken state, I wrote with proper grammar. Alex wrote back, Come on over. This was in the early hours of the day so he must have been up by some similar means too.

The following night, I panicked. I wondered if this is what single people felt like all the time. Prior to this, I had never faced intimidation when hanging out with Alex, except maybe when I was 17 and that type of thing could be labelled as teenage anxiety. But, no, this was a thing that would plague me the rest of my dating life and I wasn't even going on a date with him. Alex is the only "ex" I had stayed in contact with up to that point. Most of my friends didn't do this type of thing either, at least not Opal who lived by the mentality that once people were gone they were gone forever.

Half my anxiety came from the limited wardrobe out of my suitcase but considering it was just dinner and a dinner that would be had with the other bandmates and the girlfriends, there should've been no pressure. I wouldn't have told you this at the time, I barely want to write it down now, but the nerves I felt weren’t because of Alex, they were because of Arielle. Part of me wanted to be conceived as a non-threat. I was over those days. The other part of me—the stronger part—wanted her to be jealous of me and question why Alex and I ever broke up. I wasn't fully-formed yet.

The two sides fought and then I just settled on jeans and a tank top because it was boiling outside and I was having drinks at Al's place, not the Windsors. Luckily, I showed up after Jamie and Katie so I thought of using Katie as a shield. I didn't accept Katie and Arielle to be talking though. The word traitor crossed through my brain and then I thought I must be regressing to my college days when Rosie and Will would feel each other up in front of me. Arielle was nice and I was probably an anxious bitch.

So, I hugged both of them as Alex came into the living room. He was staggering, dressed casually beside his uniform slicked hair. "Hey there," he greeted. He was calm, not an awkward bone in his body. He knew he had the upper hand. We were on his home turf with his hot girlfriend and I was a single mess who had been on plane after plane and stunk of cigarettes.

The room was hot with sweat dripping off every surface it seemed. The air conditioner was running but the flaming air came rushing in with the swing of the front door as Matt and Breana entered. The room became distracted by them, both looking darling. I hugged each of them, distracting myself in their grasp.

Arielle had lit candles for the dining table. It was the only thing formal about the informal event. The house itself was rather bare. Alex never carried much, I was always the one with the shit.

Alex tapped my arm. "You want a drink?"

"What do you have?" I asked.

He waved his arm and I followed him to the kitchen, isolating ourselves. "Beer, wine, tequila, vodka, all the fixings. I can make you something if you'd like. Margarita?"

"Anything non-alcoholic?" Alcohol would ease my nerves but it would lead to my loud mouth and I couldn't afford that tonight.

He looked bewildered. "Who are you?" He joked.

We kept our distance. I pushed my hair behind my shoulder. "Got real drunk with Opal and Jackson last night. Figured I'd keep it clean. At least for now."

"Right then. Iced tea?"

He knew me well. I laughed at his smile and agreed to this. I moved closer to the refrigerator to just feel the cold air on my skin. He poured the glass, leaving the door open for me. I chugged the coldness like it was the elixir of life. It felt like my lungs re-inflated when the liquid dispersed and his eyes looked at mine again, so clearly over that fogged-up glass. Wet brown eyes into my baby blues and it felt like he might reach out and snatch them out of my eyes and keep them for himself. He always liked them. He has a thing for blue eyes.

We talked around the dining table, eating a mix of something Arielle had cooked and pizza. I had the pizza. Everyone talked loosely about things I had no knowledge of. Jokes about LA and all these people I had no concept of. I suppose if they had come to New York it would have been similar, except they all shared this with one another.

The sweet Breana turned the attention onto me, which partially made me shrink and revel in the joy of being included. "Oh, Jane, I loved the book!" Everyone chanted in similar sentiments all at once.

I laughed and took a bite of my pizza crust. "You didn't all read it," I laughed.

"I read parts of it," Jamie said. They were all sweet but I'm unsure how often any of them even had the chance to pick up a book, let alone their best friend's ex-girlfriend. Because that's what I was now. That was my title.

Alex looked at me. I could hear my mother's words ringing through his lips so I smiled and said, "Thank you."

"Disappointed I wasn't in it more," Matt said. "You know if it wasn't for me the book would've never been made." The long story of it has made that true but I can't give Matt credit for everything, it might go to his head too much.

"How's that?" Arielle asked. Everything shifted after that. We could all tell that she had been the wrong one to ask that question. Whether she was clueless and curious or was trying to make a dig at Alex, I wasn't sure, but I felt like an imposition being there. I didn't feel like an out-of-town friend. I felt like an ex-girlfriend.

Nobody spoke so I spoke. "Matt introduced me and Alex." I sipped my drink to wash down any other awkwardness.

Everyone seemed awkward other than Arielle. She quickly nodded and said, "Oh, yeah, Al told me that." I wondered why everyone else was so stiff when Arielle didn't seem to have much of a problem with it. Why should she when she looked like that?

I felt frumpy and had to pee badly from all the iced tea I had drank but I was too scared to go to the bathroom and see her things mixed with Alex's things. I could leave there with ambiguity and the belief that Alex didn't move on so quickly and I was stuck being alone.

"That was our first gig," Matt said. He seemed to relax, always the person to slice through any amount of tension. "Almost 10 years ago now."

"What was it like?" Arielle asked.

"Awful," Alex said. His eyes pointed toward me. "Right?"

"I don't know. I never reviewed it, remember?" He laughed and it felt inappropriate to display this inside language in front of everyone. "It feels weird that I'm the only one here who watched it." Even if that had been the case for many years, it had been a while since we all gathered around in a circle and talked about those days.

"I wasn't even there," Nick remarked. The room buckled with chuckles.

I laid my forehead against the palm of my hand resting against the table. "God," I said, "I spent that whole show with Will’s hand on my ass and Joanie screaming in my ear."

"Oh, god, Joanie," Matt muttered.

"Oh, god, Will," Jamie cracked.

"She got married last month," I told them. She had invited me but I was in the middle of the tour. We talked about once a year and everything was always nice. The only time I would've had the chance of running into her was when Alex and I visited Sheffield and that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Bless that man's heart," Matt quipped.

I shook my head. "No, she seems to have settled down in the last few years. I guess we all did. Seems so long ago."

"It was," Alex said. "We're getting old, Janie." His silence punctured the air. My lungs felt like they were deflating. He poured himself another glass.

Things grew looser and looser. They rattled off stories of LA, I rattled off stories from the road. Arielle excused herself to bed, citing an early morning. Her bed was upstairs.

Each couple left one by one until Alex and I awkwardly remained. I figured then I should leave. He walked me to the door with a freshly poured glass in his hand. "Hope I didn't keep you up too late," I said because I wasn't sure what else to say. It reminded me of what my parents said to each other after a fight. It was the one thing they clung to in order to keep their marriage somehow working.

He shook his head and sipped. "No, no. It's fine. You're always good company."

I shrugged. The whole thing kind of felt awkward, at least with him. I could laugh with Matt and throw my arm around Katie, even hug Arielle good night, but whenever my eyes landed on Alex, I tensed up so tightly I knew I'd be sore the next day. "If you're ever in New York or whatever."

He nodded and smiled. He would be visiting his old apartment. I wondered how that would make him feel. Was it the same when I walked into his house and noticed different shoes by the door than mine? Would the emptiness of his presence leave him uneasy? "I'd like that," Alex said.

"Thanks for having me." We reached the door and the end of the night but we stayed awkwardly staring at each other.

"Course. Text me when you're back at the hotel and safe and all that." He was drunk, rambling with an incapability of holding his tongue.

I smiled. "I will."

I didn't know whether to hug him or not. He leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn't affectionate. It was a peck. The kind my mother used to give me when left for school in the morning. Of course, she was my mother and I was 7 and Alex was drunk and I was, well, awkward.

I said, "Night," and turned away. We never talked about it because there was nothing to talk about. It very well could have been a kiss on the cheek just like I gave Katie and Breana before they left. Of course, that was Katie and Breana and this was Alex—no longer mine.

Rain pattered against the window. Jackson and I returned to New York a week prior and we were now sitting in my apartment, drinking, and about to call Opal to join us. I felt dizzy and Jackson looked sleepy. It had been a long month.

"So," he said, "what's next?"

I finished off my glass. "What do you mean?" The year felt empty as the cold was beginning to creep into my summer warmth. 2012 was a bumpy year where so much yet so little happened. I was growing sick of my apartment because no matter how rid it was of Alex, he still had a whole life with me here. When I returned to it after the book tour, I was ready to move on.

Jackson placed his arm on the back of the couch. The tips of his fingers softly poked at my shoulder. "Now it's time to think about the next book."

I tossed my head back with a groan. "Gimme a break."

He chuckled and placed his empty glass on the end table. "No rush. For now."

I sat up straight, finishing off my glass, and growing more and more serious every day. "Thanks for doing this for me, Jackson."

He nodded. "My pleasure."

"I feel kind of empty," I confessed.

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I didn't feel like explaining it. I was growing tired of doing that with people. My stomach ached and I pushed Alex out of my mind. I felt that I had sacrificed our relationship for this success, even if it wasn't true. I thought I would have been over it by that time of year. It had been over a year. But it still felt so unnatural for him to feel so far removed from my life. Every word we spoke felt tinged with sadness and I didn't want it to feel that way. I wanted to move on.

I kissed Jackson. He kissed back. We never called Opal.

Jackson and I started dating in a casual way. We were exclusive to one another and treated each other as a boyfriend and girlfriend would but I suppose my association with dating was always a far deeper connection. I wasn't alone in this. Jackson had long-term girlfriends prior to me. He was older than me, not by some outrageous amount. He was born in 1979, seven years older, but I was 26 and 33 didn't feel so far off.

Opal loved it. She felt like the ultimate matchmaker and wanted to be both the maid of honor and the best man. My New York crew loved him. Fennel and Kaka found him to be rich in conversation. He liked going out more than Alex but then again most people liked going out more than Alex. Except more and more it seemed Alex enjoyed the going out part. (I was taken but I was still a snooping ex-girlfriend).

I didn't tell Alex. It felt awkward to call him up and tell him I got a new boyfriend. I decided to tell him when I saw him again, which didn't come up. He was in Los Angeles. I was in New York. We didn't talk very often either. I think I called him once in October because I couldn't remember the name of a restaurant we went to (he didn't remember either).

Other than that, there wasn't much reason to talk. We had completely separate lives. But I was aware of what he was up to. I wasn't cyber-stalking him much anymore (only on nights when I was wildly intoxicated). I talked to Katie occasionally and texted Breana from time to time. Things about Alex would slip through the cracks and get to me but the majority of it was just that they were recording their new album.

We had both moved on. Or we were both pretending we did. At least I was pretending, in some form. I thought about him all the time. I didn't feel like a day went by when I didn't think about him. It wasn't in some romantic longing way. I had shared a life with him from such a young age and to be forced apart from it felt unnatural. There were so many jokes and stories that went untold because no one would get it but him.

When I went back home for the holidays, I confided this to my mother. I don't know why, maybe because of what she had told me so many years ago in Florida. I don't know if my mother ever actually liked Alex so I figured if she said awful things about him it would make me feel better. Of course, she didn't.

"It goes away," she said. "One day, you wake up and you're numb to it. You just get numb to it in the end, Jane. All those people you hated and loved turn to nothing. Even the ones you still want to love. You'll be thankful for it when the day comes that you don't feel anything anymore."

I frowned and my mother left me on the couch to fetch another bottle of wine. In retrospect, my mother was suffering from mental illness, but I was oblivious to that because I had grown oblivious to most of my mother's behavior. I just didn't want to engage with it anymore. Maybe part of me was numb toward her.

I didn't want to feel nothing. I couldn't imagine not feeling anything for Alex, even if we remained friends for the rest of our lives. I had tethered so much sentimentality toward him, he might as well have been a knick-knack on my shelf. Letting go of him would be letting go of an entire part of myself. I was content if that part only came out once a year when I saw him but I couldn't let go of it forever.

Joanie was having a baby. She likely got pregnant on her honeymoon. Someone my age having a child felt unnatural. I pictured Joanie being a teen mum, not a 26-year-old pregnant woman. She invited me to the baby shower taking place right after Christmas. It was ideal timing since all her closest friends would be in town or, like me, the country.

I debated going but decided that since I missed the wedding the least I could do was go to the baby shower. So, I drove the Beetle up to Wakefield. I figured it would be a mini-reunion. The only one I had seen as of late was Claire, who lived in Bristol now, and I hadn't seen since last winter.

We drove up together and listened to Radio 2 on full blast the whole way. I don't think I had ever felt more like a teenager even when I was a teenager. Claire continued her streak of always being a comfort for me. While other friends might be wedding and birthing, Claire had just ended her two-year-long relationship and gagged in her mouth at the thought of being a mother one day.

It made me miss England so desperately. I forgot how much I ached to drive, which I hadn't done in years. The closest I had gotten to a car was the one taxi ride home drunk at 4 AM. And to drive on the left side of the road! I hadn't heard someone speak in a British accent since the dinner at Alex's. It eased my ears and made me wonder why I ever left, which just led to me thinking about Alex again.

Claire said, "I hate Alex, which sucks 'cause I like Alex." In a way, it summed up how conflicted I felt. Hate is a strong word but I was resentful for how everything went down. Then again, I probably didn't have much of a right.

Joanie's house was straight out of a picture book. I didn't know houses like that even existed in Wakefield. It wasn't fancy but at the sight of it, you'd call it a home. She had a little garden in the front that she said her husband grew herbs in that she used for cooking. It made Claire and I roll our eyes but we both desperately wanted that kind of companionship. If I ever would learn how to cook or grow plants, maybe that could be my life. I refused to do either, but it was a nice thought.

I bought Joanie—or Joanie's baby—these cozy fleece booties because that's what New York Magazine said to get. I never bought anything for a baby before (I got away with it two years ago during Harper's unmentioned pregnancy of my first nephew, Benjamin, by having my mother buy a gift for me) so I had no clue what to get. I bought Joanie this nice set of body washes that were her favourite when we were 17 with the hope that they either still were or she would feel nostalgic over them.

Claire and I ate a slice of cake and watched Joanie open her presents. Halfway through we turned to each other and decided we were going to go out drinking after. I love Joanie but oohing and awing over baby gifts with a bunch of women I barely knew got old quickly, especially incredibly sober and in the middle of the winter blues. The cake was good though.

The shower ended around 4 and while I was down to get hammered that early, Claire wanted to go out to lunch first. We ended up meeting up with AB at a pub. I hadn't seen AB since 2006 and I nearly cried at the sight of him all grown up. Claire and AB had broken up long ago but stayed in touch as good friends and if they could do it—two incredibly mature people—maybe Alex and I could too.

AB's girlfriend of two years (and future wife), Shay, joined us as well. It almost made me barf how gorgeous they were together and I was shocked Claire wasn't fuming more over how beautiful Shay was. I was almost fuming over how beautiful Shay was!

AB sipped on a beer, which I don't think I had ever witnessed. He shared it was Shay and I swallowed down my drink at the painful thought that Alex and I once did things like that. I was such a sad sack. I thought about calling Jackson. Thank god I didn't.

We left the pub, hugging AB and Shay goodbye next to the Beetle. Claire and I were going to go back to the hotel to change out of our baby shower clothes and "hit the town.”

We waved goodbye to the couple and that's when I saw Alex with his mum. I turned my back to him and grabbed Claire's arm. "I think I'm gonna vomit."

She looked at me completely puzzled. "What? Why?"

I was so freaked out by the sight of him. I think the unexpected nature of it threw me off-balanced. I had never been that unnerved by the sight of him. My head felt like my brain was about to burst out of my ears. "Get in the car," I harshly muttered to her.

She was still unaware but she raced around the side of the car to get into the passenger seat. We bolted out of there before he crossed the street.

It was midnight when I called him. I was definitely drunk, but not wasted, standing outside a club smoking while Claire chatted up with some guy inside. I was freezing and felt so childish for doing it, even in the moment, but I wanted to see him. It shouldn't feel right that I was here and he wasn't.

"Hello." His voice was clear so he hadn't been sleeping. I wonder if he was in bed (with Arielle).

I swallowed whatever dignity I had left and let the rest loose. "Hey. I'm in Wakefield for Joanie's baby shower 'cause apparently we're old enough to have children now and now I'm out with Claire at a club. We drove up together from Bath, well, Bristol for her, Bath for me, but you know that. Jesus. I saw you earlier today and raced into my car because I was so scared by the sight of you, which made me realize I'm not as mature as I thought I was. And it was just after we went to lunch with AB and Shay and Claire and AB still get along like they didn't have this romantic relationship and I know that we get along too but I raced to my car and nearly shit myself. Now, I'm outside a club smoking in the middle of winter because I apparently regress back to teenage tendencies when I'm in Yorkshire or maybe just England in general. Anyway, I'm drunk and I'm thinking this was stupid and it probably is but I know you're probably laughing at me right now but I'm freezing my ass off and I can't figure out how to get back inside the club and Claire isn't answering her phone, which means she's probably shagging someone or something and I wouldn't want to interrupt that, you know, and I probably should just get a cab back to the hotel but I called you for some reason. Well, not for some reason because I'm drunk. Okay, now you talk."

I was out of breath and sure I had just lost my mind. I need another shot of tequila. I felt I was growing too sober to face the repercussions of this. I took a drag of my cigarette and listened to his breathing on the other end of the line.

I could hear his smile. I still had a knack for that kind of thing. "I saw you too, you know."

I slapped my forehead and thought about slamming my head into the brick wall until it broke my skull and my brain gushed out. "Did it look like we were being held at gunpoint?"

He chuckled lowly. "A little. But I must've looked like someone pointed a gun at me. I'd recognize that car anywhere, Janie."

I didn't know what to say. My car was such a sensitive topic for both of us. It was the cornerstone (ha) of our relationship, especially for the car to be returned to its rightful county. I thought I'd feel weird driving it but everything felt right like it was a complete homecoming. Like nature had found its way and every piece fell perfectly into the puzzle.

"I thought I would be grown up by now," I confessed.

He suppressed a laugh. "I like you this way. Makes me feel less alone."

"How so?"

He waited, not wanting to fully let the truth go but it was me he was talking to. There wasn't much point in lying. "I've called you in various states of intoxication too."

"Not after running to your car," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure I'll do it one of these days." It was a silence but a vibration rang across the line to one another. Call it a vibe or a wavelength or just a feeling, but I could feel him like he was standing right next to me. "Where are you?"

It was so embarrassing I laughed. "Che & Coco." It was Barnsley College's resident bar and nightclub. The average age of the crowd was barely 20 and I felt like such a loser trying to claim that nostalgia is what made me want to club there.

"Geez, you really are down bad." His laughter rang through the phone and I nearly hung up due to how beet red my face was. He laughed and laughed. I could picture him with his hands on his knees, walking home from Will's house, unable to breathe he was laughing so hard. Then, I couldn't breathe. "You want me to pick you up?"

I'd like that a lot but I couldn't take it. That was a bridge too far. "No, no. I'll just call a taxi or something. Maybe even walk. My hotel isn't that far."

"You're gonna walk in Barnsley at midnight? Hope you don't get hit with a beer bottle," he joked. That had happened to Will back in the day. I'm convinced it made him even dumber if that's possible.

"I've walked later than this in New York," I reasoned.

"Janie," he stopped me, "I'd like to see you if you won't run away from me."

I sighed. "I'll see you in 20. I'll be waiting on Peel." Because maybe I would like to see him too.

He pulled up in his mum's car. It wasn't her car from way back in the day but it made him feel sophomoric to me. His hair wasn't gelled up, instead falling around in tendrils of combed-back magic. He had a hoodie on and a smile on his face. He honked the horn of the car and I dashed across the street to his car.

The car was warm, at least warmer than outside where I had been suffering. I tugged my coat closer and put my seatbelt on. "Hi."

Alex smiled over at me. "Hi." He pulled back onto the road and I couldn't remember the last time he had driven me. "How've you been?"

I shrugged in his peripheral vision. "Fine. Christmas was fine. My dad bought me Slouching Toward Bethlehem."

Alex laughed. "About 10 years too late."

"Yeah, but at least he's trying. I can't remember the last time he bought me a gift." My mother handled all the presents, something she was rather good at, even if it always felt like she didn't know me.

We stopped at a red light. "I didn't get anything for you," he said while looking over at me.

"Well, I didn't get you anything either." First time in eight years. It didn't even cross my mind. "This is enough of a present anyway."

He nodded in agreement. "Good." I believed him. The nod of his head told me that this meant as much to me as it did to me. Drunk actions are sober thoughts and sometimes I just wanted to hear his voice.

We kept driving. I had yet to tell him any directions. He was headed the right way but I wouldn't have had the willpower to tell him anyway. I liked driving around with him. I liked just this. The vibration of the road beneath us and the scent of him washing over me. The slowness of Yorkshire and the heat of him beside me. It made everything feel right.

"Arielle come with you?"

He rubbed his eye. He looked tired. "Nah. She went to her parents’." I nodded and he waited, looking over at me. I stared at him blankly. He looked back at the road and kept the car moving. "What about, uh, Jackson?"

My head snapped toward him. "He's at his parents’." I picked at my nails. I didn't want to talk about this. Why did it feel like I was cheating on him? It felt like Alex had died and I was some widower trying to move on but his ghost was coming back to shame me.

"Katie mentioned something," he muttered.

"Yeah," I explained, "just a few months."

He nodded slowly. "He's a nice guy." I laughed out loud. He laughed too, for some reason. "What?"

I shook my head. "We don't have to talk about my boyfriend."

"Okay. We don't have to talk about Arielle." It was probably some form of cheating, emotionally. We gazed at one another and never acted on anything, but the aftertaste of it didn't feel right. But in the moment, everything had fallen perfectly into place.

We went nowhere and neither of us said a single thing about it. The drive from the club to my hotel was ten minutes. We drove around for an hour.

"Joanie's house is beautiful. It's like my dream house. It isn't big but it's not a cottage or anything. But it's quaint. She's got plants and I never thought Joanie could take care of a living thing and now she's gonna have a baby," I told him. I fiddled with the radio, even though we weren't gonna listen to it.

"Are you sure they aren't fake?" He joked. I chuckled and hit his shoulder. "Eh! Watch it. I'm driving here, missy."

I held my hands up as a defense. I eased them back down with a giggle and tugged on my seatbelt strap. "You know, I thought I'd have a baby by now."

He snorted. "No, you did not."

"At one point I did. I mean, back before you. Like when I was still playing with dolls."

He laughed again and everything made sense. "Good thing you don't. You can't even keep a plant alive."

"They're not self-sufficient enough."

"And you think a baby will be easier?"

"Not anymore but at six I did! It was right around when Stacey was born. I took good care of her."

Alex felt warm with a smile. "You did." He was an only child but at times I felt he might consider her a sister too. She considered him a brother. He had been around since she was 11. She was only a little over a year away from graduating university.

"Granted I didn't have to breastfeed her."

It was still dark outside but it felt like the sun was rising in that car. "You wouldn't be happy living Joanie's life."

"How do you know?" I questioned. "Maybe if I was settled I'd feel better."

Alex's jaw gaped. He breathed a laugh and I looked over at him curiously. "Jane, you'd be losing your mind. The whole time I knew you here, you were begging to get out of here."

"Maybe I had it all wrong."

He shook his head, never looking over at me, just driving. "You're a completely different person because you got out of here. You're gonna get all that stuff one day. The kid, the garden, whatever the fuck you want, but you'd never have what you have no if you stayed put. You always knew what you wanted. Your gut is always right. I've learned that."

I sighed and accepted he was right. "Grass is always greener, I guess."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I think you have the greenest grass. You're the one who's a bestseller."

I rolled my eyes and leaned on the center console. "She's the one with the husband and baby."

He scoffed, "So is half the world. You have a tough time being proud of your accomplishments."

I gasped. "Look who's talking. My god!"

Alex chuckled and it felt like food for my soul. Fertilizer to my soil to keep growing. "Fair enough. But be cocky every once and a while, Janie. You deserve it."

I took what he said to heart but ignored him. I wanted to talk about something else. I wanted to put my feet in his lap and ride to Charlton Brook. Instead, I leaned back and looked at him. "We used to talk about the future so much and now it's come and gone."

"You're not dead yet." But we were. I think that's what I really meant. All those things I had planned with him and I had to be content with letting them go. Watching those promises slip through my fingers. I had no right to feel that way but it's all I felt.

I wanted to tell him I loved him with the windows rolled down and the cold air rushing in because he used to let me do that. I believe that right had been revoked. "I missed it here." The truth was hidden in those words, in between the lines, deep in those letters, stuffed in between them.

He hummed, glancing over. "Me too. Everything feels a little simpler."

I heard the radio speaking, ringing some familiar tune that I couldn't think of the name. Maybe if it had been a little simpler and Alex and I stayed there forever, in the car ride between Wakefield and High Green, we'd have a house, a garden, a ring, a little thing on the way.

But I would've missed out on a lot more. I would have missed out on a lot of Alex. How he was with his hair long in the middle of Joshua Tree, looking over at me instead of the night sky. How he made up our bed in our London studio apartment into a couch because we didn't have enough space for one. How he felt sitting next to me on the C train at 2 AM. How he felt in the dead of winter in Yorkshire, somehow ending up at my hotel with a hoodie I used to wear and a smile he still wears just for me.

I'll never know otherwise. And that's fine.

a/n: this was a struggle but i think it landed right in the end. much, much more to come.

#alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #junedenim #beneath the boardwalk

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zydratearchives · 8 months ago

Note

I appear to request Headcanons and shitposts

i'll do my best! hopefully these are alright, i'm not great at shitpost-y hcs but i came up with these :)

shilo wallace

• shilo is a lesbian (see: all of 'seventeen')

• she's homeschooled by nathan

• her favourite subjects to learn at home are biology, mathematics and music

• she has a blog she updates using nathan's PC whenever she can get access to it

nathan wallace

• nathan gets uncomfortable teaching shilo chemistry because it reminds him of marni's death.

• he doesn't let shilo have social media

• he's a surprisingly terrible cook. he wasn't always, he just fell off after marni's death. he especially struggles when it comes to handling meat - it reminds him too much of his repo man job.

marni wallace

• marni is also english, she moved to the USA with mag after the organ epidemic (based on how she pronounces "morning")

• when they were shilo's age, marni and mag used to day drink in a public park at 3pm

rotti largo

• rotti genuinely was nathan's best man at the wedding and he's convinced it was just to mock him.

• he's spent a solid amount of time visiting england due to marni & mag and he always has a great time. he enjoys wetherspoons

luigi largo

• luigi once blew a significant amount of his father's money on cryptocurrency

• he regularly takes pictures of his car. his instagram is just 99% car pics

pavi largo

• pavi is a skinny puppy fan (see: his tattoo)

• he once threw a tantrum as a child begging his father for a pony. this episode lasted a good 3 years

• pavi has been to every strip club and brothel in sanitarium, his next goal is opening up his own

amber sweet

• semi-canon since it's mentioned in her myspace, but amber has published multiple "self-help" books. they're all as entitled and tone-deaf as you can imagine

• she puts those scary eyelashes on her car's headlights & those fuzzy dice on the mirror

graverobber

• graverobber likes watching twin peaks reruns on the TVs dotted around sanitarium's back alleys

• he has been to prison once (implied by him being referred to as a fugitive). he probably got the shit kicked out of him there at some point

blind mag

• mag lives with the largos (implied canon?) and she always tries to make awkward small talk at the dinner table when the kids are causing chaos. it rarely goes well

• mag (and marni) moved to the USA due to rotti largo/geneco's influence there - she believed it'd be safer than staying in england

#repo the genetic opera #repo! the genetic opera #amber sweet #nathan wallace #repo man #pavi largo #luigi largi #rotti largo #blind mag #marni wallace #shilo wallace #graverobber

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yamst3rdamctrl · 5 months ago

Text

When Sexual Desires Clash (Y/N)

Chapter 1: The Start of Something New

Cause you done had mad bitches (ooh)

Been around the whole world (ooh)

And you carried all your fears with ya (ooh)

And now you found the right girl (ooh)

And you don't know what you do with her

You don't (no, no)

Know what you do with her

You don't (ooh, ooh)

Omniscient

YN was standing in the kitchen listening to rerun episodes of Insecure while fixing breakfast. After YN had finished, she was still enjoying her show when her phone began to rang.

Incoming Call Lupita..

YN POV

As I answered Lupita call I wondered why she was calling so damn early.. "Bitch you know its like 10 am in the morning." I said to Lupita. "Girl you forgot today is the dinner pool party with a few of us?" She questioned. "No girl I didn't but isn't it not until like 4 pm?" YN asked. "Girl yes I just wanna insure your coming. I have a few of my guy friends and you met all of them except one. Shay coming too since her boo thang Winston coming." "Yes sis she is and I'll see you then let me relax. Dance practice kicked my ass last night. I don't understand how hard it is for these girl to dance right with Chris. They do nervous so they fucking forget." YN said irritated. "Sis you right. If I was next to him I would be ready to cum on his face too." Lupita said laughing. "BITCH.. bye I'll see you later." YN laughed. "Bye Girl! Wear some sexy!!"

Omniscient

YN did her daily chores, went shopping, and rested. Before YN knew it was 3:30 pm and she had to get ready. YN is always a little late because she knows barely anybody will be there on time. YN took her slow time getting cute by pulling her hair in a pony tail and putting on her swimwear..

YN decided to let her cocca butter skin show along with her figure. YN then pulled her pony tail down and let her hair flow along with putting on her brown nude wedges. YN looked at herself and thought, "I'm that bitch! Still that bitch will for ever be that bitch!" Its been along time since YN has taken a break for herself. Since breaking up with her ex boyfriend due to him cheating on her she focused on herself. She would occasionally go out to find some dick but would never go along with it. YN felt as if no one would fuck her to her sexual desire. Therefore, she would just fuck her self going one day she'll have the BDSM of her dreams.. soon she'll have her dom.

YN gathered her belongings and her packed bag usually when they have a dinner night they spend the weekend in the vacation home. YN ensured to bring her toys because in her head she would be the single one left out..

4:50 pm Party Arrival

YN parked her car and walked through the gate that lead to the pool area. "What Up Bitchhhh" YN yelled and Lupita ran straight to her. "Girl look at you!! You wasn't playing when I said get sexy!!" Lupita said. "Nope I was not up. Hello Big One" YN said to Winston and dapped him up while hugging her best friend Shay.. "Girl! You look goodt. I'm glad Lupita invited the other person." Shay said smirking. "What do you mean?" YN asked confused. Soon as YN turned her head to the pool she saw a 6'2 burnt caramel complexion coming out of the pool drying his head off. When the figure removed the towel off his head all YN could do was watch and scream internally. YN never knew that she could be wet like this again. The figure walked up and reached out his hand and said, "Lupita, this must be who you were telling me about.. Hi YN, it's so nice to meet you. Lu has told me so much about you. My name is Michael B. Jordan".....

Sooo.. I have stories on Wattpad but I don't get that much love on here. I'm trying to get as much love as I can so Tumblr here we are... I'm going to show yal how to show MBJ love! 🩷

#Spotify #michael b #michael b jordan #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan x reader #smut #killmongerthispussy #killmonger fanfiction

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jhilsara · 5 months ago

Text

Tie Me to You/Chapter 15

Chapter Summary: Mika needs a break and finds Sam on the roof.

Word Count: 2.8k

Chapter Warnings: Horny levels of making out

This fanfic will explore heavier emotions and will have eventual smut. Minors DNI

Can also be found on AO3 X

Chapter 15

Put your lips close to mine

As long as they don't touch

Out of focus, eye to eye

'Til the gravity's too much

And I'll do anything you say

If you say it with your hands

Treacherous - Taylor Swift

After the events of the morning, Mika feels restless. She lounges in the living room watching some reruns of a reality show with Erik and Damien. Shooting jokes back and forth and snarky comments about the dated fashion on the runaway. It works in a way of keeping her mind busy, drifting away from her tiresome morning.

Damien keeps shooting her sympathetic looks of worry or sharing a similar look with Erik when their eyes roam over to her. Their stares are the opposite of comforting. Mika knows that they mean well, but it feels like they think she’s more of a flight risk with how often she feels one of them look her way. Mika tries to brush it off. She didn’t want to make them more concerned than they already were. She makes it through a few episodes before her eyelids grow heavy. Begging her to sink into the comfiness of the couch.

She was so exhausted and overwhelmed by the events from earlier, not to mention the succubus draining her the night before. She just needed to rest her eyes, for a minute or two...or maybe she thinks it would be easier to sleep than deal with reality. Mika couldn’t really pinpoint it, but the bags under her eyes were enough to prove she needed a break. She thinks she’ll just close her eyes, for a moment.

Five minutes turns into five hours, when she finally wakes up significantly later in the day. The sun isn’t as bright in the living room as when she fell asleep. The room is quieter without the sound of a show playing in the background. Mika realizes she’s under a quilt that one of the boys must have laid on top of her. Mika sits up and stretches and isn’t surprised that Damien and Erik had both left at some point. She wonders vaguely how long they stayed there.

Mika groans as she stands to move and checks to see if anyone is around. She’s sure it’s dinner time and wonders if maybe they’d just eat without her. She shuffles into the dining room and doesn’t see anyone nor smell any food being made.

She makes her way upstairs, not hearing anything really. It was so quiet in the house, like when she first arrived. It sends a shiver up her back, and she panics for a moment that maybe they did leave. Maybe that succubus followed through with her threat and took them.

Mika starts to walk faster, with a bit more purpose as she tries to calm herself. She feels her heart clench tightly, they wouldn’t have left. Not without a fight or a goodbye. Her nerves are fried enough, but the silence of the home is almost deafening to her.

She passes her grandfather’s study with the doors wide open, James sitting idly at the desk working. She back peddles quickly to reassure herself she isn’t seeing things. She needed proof she wasn’t alone again.

James stops typing away and looks up at her from the top of his glasses. He raises a brow at her in question.

She feels her body untense and her shoulders drop in relief.

“You okay Mika?” he calls out to her, closing the laptop he was using and giving her his undivided attention.

She gives a shrug and bites the inside of her cheek, “Define okay?”

She steps into the study and leans against the doorway looking down at the floor. Her arms come to cross over her chest tightly, like she's trying to protect herself.

James sighs and looks up at her sympathetically, “It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry about it, we’ll handle her.” He tries to reassure Mika in a gentle voice.

She feels herself seize up at the reassurance, “I’m so sick of everyone telling me to not worry. I’m filled with worry, about a million different things!”

Mika takes a deep breath before the word vomit starts to spiral out of her. She feels the tight coil inside her start to unravel as her brain fires off everything that’s happened. She glares holes into the floor the whole time never looking at James.

“I’ve been put on the backburner my whole life!” She bites out. Her body almost shrinks in as she continues.

“Don’t worry about a job, don’t worry about a major, don’t worry about your dad, don’t worry about you’re future, don’t worry about devils, don’t worry about this impending danger that seems to follow you!” She’s pacing around the room, using her arms to emphasize her point. When she stops and she looks up at James, he’s giving her this look of pity that makes her stomach churn.

“I’m tired of being told not to worry and treated like I don’t have a say. I’m so over it. It’s like I’m just watching someone play my life!” she says exasperatedly.

James is quiet for a moment as he takes in her words. The silence makes Mika feel like she’s just overshared way too much and now she wants to run to her room and act like this never happened. James didn’t need to hear her whine about her life.

James stands, reaches over to the printer and grabs something he printed earlier. He slides it into a folder and holds it out to Mika.

“I know a few things about being told who you’re supposed to be and the expectations of others. I was blessed enough to be able to escape and figure out who I am...I’m still trying to figure out who I am if I’m not the first-born prince of the Demon Lord.” He tells her with a look of understanding.

“These are Harold’s notes. I translated most of what I could for you, it’s almost all of his notes.” He refers to the large folder in his hands.

Mika gently takes it from him, “Thanks, she burned the first half you made me.” She admits shamefully, even if she knows it’s not her fault.

His face sours, “Yea I found the magical ashes on your bed… She’s threatened by you knowing that knowledge if she’s willing to burn the documents with magic.” he tells her, crossing his arms in annoyance.

“Why would she be threatened? She made it clear she can play with me like a doll.” Mika says bitterly remembering how the enthrallment felt. It made her nauseous.

James looks at the folder in her hands, “Harold was a powerful sorcerer. She either knows that, or knows you got these from someone powerful. His notes aren’t beginner level magic by any means.” he claims looking back up at her.

“Maybe you could be just as powerful.” He suggests with a shrug. “That’s just a guess though.” he gives her a tiny smirk.

She clutches the folder close to her chest, “Thank you James.”

He just waves her off before sitting back down at the desk, “It’s no problem, honestly easy to read and translate.” he tells her dismissively.

She rolls her eyes at how nonchalant James is being. This was a big deal to Mika because to her, this felt like maybe this was what her grandfather always wanted her to find.

She turns to leave, and James speaks up stopping her, “Oh and would you mind checking on Sam?”

Mika looks at him confused with a small blush tinting her cheeks. He rolls his eyes, “We sent him on a run to burn off his adrenaline earlier. I think he’s on the roof sulking.” James tells her in mild annoyance directed at his younger brother.

“Yea, I’ll go do that...” She escapes out the door and makes her way to go check the roof.

She rushes to her bedroom first and sets her notes on her desk, trying to push down her flushed cheeks before trying to find Sam. She turns to her balcony window and vaguely spots some movement. She opens the door and looks up to see Sam’s legs dangling above.

She puts her hands on her hips and cock her head as she stares up, “Do you wanna come down or should I go up?” she teases.

She sees him jump and look around before he bothers to look down and see her below. His face heats up for a second, like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“How’d you know I was up here?” He questions a bit baffled by how easily he was caught above her room.

She shrugs, “This is where you normally are when I can’t find you.”

He raises a brow at her in suspicion.

“That aaaaaaannnddd James told me.” She admits biting her lip.

Sam rolls his eyes and shoves himself off the roof to land on the balcony. He landed perfectly like an agile cat. He stands there for a moment, looking over her and assessing her. It's the same hesitant look Erik and Damien were giving her earlier, but it was different with Sam.

Everything was different with Sam.

The look he gave didn’t feel like he was worried she was going to crack under the pressure, it was more so like he needed reassurance she was still there.

He opens his mouth to try and say something, but Mika cuts him off, putting a hand up to motion him to stop.

“If you’re going to ask me if I’m okay, don’t. Jury's still out on that.” She states going to lean on her balcony railing with a sigh.

Sam chuckles lowly and shakes his head, “fair enough.”

He moves to stand next to her on the railing. Their arms brush against each other as he leans turning his head to look her over. His green eyes pierce into her, scanning Mika in a way that feels so intense. Like he’s looking for something to be wrong or out of place.

She looks up at him from the corner of her eye with a slight frown. “There’s nothing you’re going to find out by staring holes into me Sam.” She tells him with a cock of her head and a dry laugh.

He shrugs and at least he has the decency to look caught. “Can’t hurt.” He mumbles in slight frustration. “I feel like I need to keep an eye on you now.”

She raises a brow in amusement, “Almost like a guard dog?” she tries to bite back her laugh.

Sam groans in frustration and hides his face in his crosses arms leaning on the railing. “Don’t you start now too...”

She presses against his side, dropping her head to look at him, “Would it make you feel better if I said you were a very good guard dog?”

His head lifts and he shots her a deadpan stare.

“What? It’s kind of funny.” She says leaning her head on his shoulder.

Sam lifts a hand to ruffle her hair before he travels down to hold her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“Laugh it up, but I did protect you.” He tells her, trying to prove a point. He presses a kiss to her forehead.

Mika hums contently and looks up at him, “I guess that makes you a good boy.”

Sam groans in irritation and leans his head down to rest in the crook of Mika’s neck as she laughs. Her laughter stops abruptly as she feels Sam teeth dig into her flesh. Making her gasp and shriek.

“Did you just bite me?!” She asks him incredulously. She gives a soft swat of her hand to his bicep.

Sam’s the one now shaking with laughter as he looks like he just won a game.

“I’m an aggressive bred I guess.”

“Oh ha, ha, ha, you think you’re so funny.” Mika rolls her eyes and tries to push Sam away.

He doesn’t budge, his grip on her waist and the railing firm. Planting him in place. Mika looks down and sees the muscles in his arms tremble slightly, like it was taking all his energy to move.

“Sam?” She asks softly, trying to get him to look at her.

“Sorry, just uh, just give me a second.” He murmurs.

Mika sees a flash of gold rim his eyes before fading quickly. She understands what’s happening.

“Did you... did you burn off all the energy you had on your run?” She asks him quietly.

Sam nods, looking shameful.

“Sam, you know you can-” Mika starts to offer, before Sam cuts her off quickly.

“No!” He jolts up looking her in the eye, clearly nervous and hesitant. “I mean,” he takes a deep breath. “I don’t want you to- fuck.”

Mika tilts her head in confusion, a small part of her feeling hurt that Sam doesn’t want her energy. She holds it in, unsure if that’s what he even means. He wasn’t the easiest to understand when he was riled up. She didn’t want to make assumptions while his tongue twisted his own words into soup. So, she waits patiently.

“I’m bad at this.” He finally says in defeat.

“I would try to give feedback, but I’m lost.” She offers, her tone isn’t accusing but light and conversational.

Sam groans and closes his eyes trying to gather his words. “I don’t want you to think I just use you for energy. You’ve offered twice now, and I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

Mika frowns, her eyes trailing down to the ground “… do you not want my energy?” she asks softly, maybe she had been reading his signs wrong, the small insecure part of her poking its head out.

Before she can start spiraling Sam keeps talking and fumbles over his words, “No no! I didn’t, fuckin’ shit.”

He presses his forehead to her shoulder and takes a shaky breath. “I mean I want you to give your energy because you like me…not because you feel obligated too.”

His shoulders relax from their tense state after he says it. There’s a beat of silence before Mika starts giggling softly.

“Sam” she says his name fondly, like it’s her favorite thing, “I offer it because I like you dummy.”

Sam doesn’t immediately respond; he takes in the information but he’s unsure if he heard her correctly or not.

“Are you serious?” he finally whispers standing up fully and placing both hands on her hips, a comforting weight. His voice sounds so baffled and confused, it takes everything in Mika to not press her thumb to his forehead to straighten out the crease he’s forming.

“Sam, I don’t know if you noticed this, but I don’t let your brothers take naps or kiss me.” Mika says almost conspiratorially.

“I guess I should have put that together…” He says with a low laugh, it rattles Mika’s core and makes her feel mushy.

“Or ya know, asked me?” she suggests with a smirk.

“Yeah, or asked you.” He murmurs and presses a kiss to her neck.

The action sends a shiver down her spine. “Or kiss, kissing works.” She sighs airily, her arms working their way up to wrap around his neck to pull him closer.

He chuckles, kisses under her ear and pulls away to look at her. She blushes furiously, giving him the widest grin imaginable. His face breaks out into a matching smile.

Sam leans down, a hand moving up to cup her jaw, as he presses his mouth to hers. It’s intoxicating and slow. He takes his time, slowly moving his mouth against hers before pressing his hot tongue into her mouth.

Mika moves her hands to caress his jaw before running her fingers up through his dark brown hair before gripping it tightly.

It makes Sam moan into her mouth, giving her an opportunity to press her own tongue to his, trying desperately to taste the inside of his mouth.

He growls lowly in his chest, and she smiles into the kiss. She moves her mouth away from his and trails kisses down his jaw to his neck. His hands on her hips grip tightly, bucking his hips into hers.

“If you don’t stop that,” he hisses out with a partial laugh, “I’m going to lose my mind.”

Mika pulls back, looking up at him through her lashes, “What? This is light work, got you worked up already?” she says in a teasing tone.

Sam presses his forehead to hers, “No...” he growls out before biting her neck again, this time using his tongue to soothe the harsh bite.

“Just when I take you, I don’t want it to be for your energy, but your enjoyment.” He tells her.

It makes Mika moan and pulls him closer.

“You better deliver on that then.” She says breathlessly.

He moves back to press a softer kiss to her lips before letting go and smiling at her smugly, “Promise.”

A/N: Hey everyone! So as you know this fic has been on Hiatus and it will continue to be. I wrote this chapter over the summer. When I update next I will have a couple of chapters on the back burner. I just needed a break. I was so burnt out from work and I needed some time off. (Which maybe involved watching 9 seasons of criminal minds and if you see an fics mind your business) ANYWAY I'm going to start writing again and hopefully get this story with regular updates comes the end of September. <3 Miss yall and let me know how this chapter went (Cause I don't remember most of what I even wrote tbh)

#seduce me otome #seduce me the otome #seduce me the demon war #seduce me #sam seduce me #seduce me sam #seduce me fanfiction #fanfiction

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astoldbychae · 1 year ago

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What Kind of Love Are You?

Haven't really been in game as much lately but EVERY time I play around with another random household his ass just keeps popping up at all the community lots. Just stalkin' me...🤣 So I'll just got with him for this one.

Melo's love is. . .

Love as Youth Your love is buoyant. Your love is bountiful. It is ageless, and it will never age. When you fall in love, it is breathless. It is joyful and endless, it is magnificent. You think it, like your youth , will last forever. Youth is eternal, and so is your love. Your love skips rocks and tells stories, your love roasts marshmallows over fires, and laughs freely. Your love does not take itself too seriously. Your love is jumping into puddles just to watch the water splash, and dancing in the rain, and it is watching Sunday morning reruns of cartoons to feel young once more. Your love is forever, forever young. Being loved by you is to be loved by the summer months. And those never end, do they? Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.

Thanks for the tag @beebeesiims 💛

#oc tag game #oc: carmelo hollingsworth #ts4

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bakersimmer · 10 months ago

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What kind of love are you?

Thanks for tagging me, @sirianasims 💛 & @beachyserasims 🤗

Laila - Love as a Flaw

Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. It’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.

Laila isn't that dramatic, but close 🤔

Martin - Love as Youth

Your love is buoyant. Your love is bountiful. It is ageless, and it will never age. When you fall in love, it is breathless. It is joyful and endless, it is magnificent. You think it, like your youth, will last forever. Youth is eternal, and so is your love. Your love skips rocks and tells stories, your love roasts marshmallows over fires, and laughs freely. Your love does not take itself too seriously. Your love is jumping into puddles just to watch the water splash, and dancing in the rain, and it is watching Sunday morning reruns of cartoons to feel young once more. Your love is forever, forever young. Being loved by you is to be loved by the summer months. And those never end, do they? Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.

Yep. "It is joyful and endless, it is magnificent."

I'll tag (feel free to ignore) @zosa95 @swallowprettybird @bunnithechubs @someone-elsa @aleksa-sims

#MartinsESC #Martin Archer #Laila Mellov #tag

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itstokkii · 2 months ago

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A Week with Turkitty: Day 2

Day 1 | Day 2

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

Morning came, the sunlight streaming through her lace curtains. She felt something wriggling, light tufts of fur brushing against her knuckles.

She opened her eyes to see a cat sleeping next to her.

"You're supposed to be in the guestroom..." she sighed before getting up to wash up and make breakfast for the both of them.

Turkey awoke to the smell of kielbasa, and made his way to the kitchen to see Uzbekistan preparing the green tea for breakfast.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" She asked him, her eyes concentrated on the hot water she was pouring from the kettle to the teapot.

Turkey meowed and closed his eyes satisfactorily.

Every night is a good night when I'm sleeping next to-

"But you can't sleep in my bed." Uzbekistan's voice cut him out of his thoughts.

What?!? Why??

"I know you're a kitty, but I don't want your fur all over my pillows, sheets, and comforters. There's a guestroom over there with a bed as well, why not seize the opportunity?" She placed the teapot carefully on the table, sat down, and turned on the TV.

The news channel was droning on about what the next few years had in store for Uzbekistan's urban landscape, but given that she knew all of that already, she sighed and switched to the sports channel, where a rerun of a soccer game from last night played. As per usual, Turkey was the first to finish his food, while Uzbekistan took her time. They were both engrossed in the soccer game, Turkey more so.

She watched as his pupils dilated and giggled. "Same old Turkey!"

All his frustration and excited yells at the game were now reduced to cute meows. He hated it. She, however, relished in it, snapping a few pictures and videos to send to the group chat.

When it was halftime, she began to clean up the table, placing the dishes in the sink. She quickly changed into her pantsuit and then sat down in front of him.

"I have to go back to work really quickly since I forgot my purse. I’m bringing you with me because as a cat you’re quite helple-Ahaha! What are you doing? Stop!" Uzbekistan burst into giggles and mustered her remaining strength to look at the criminal sitting on her lap. Turkey was too busy kneading tiny biscuits into her thigh to listen.

"Cut that out! Please! No!" She pulled him off of her in between her laughs. "Look, I'll add another rule. You can't touch me. I mean, gentle touching is fine, but whatever you were doing just now? Don't do that."

She brought out the cat carrier, placing it on the floor with a resounding clang. The orange cat pulled at her leg, hissing at the cage.

There’s no way you’re stuffing me in that!

Uzbekistan sighed. “Look, I know it’s cramped and cold. But I honestly can’t think of a better idea to carry you around safely—Wait! I think I have an idea. I’ll be back.” She ran into her bedroom.

In the meantime, Turkey pranced around back and forth before spotting the cabinet from the corner of his eye. She was right about there being all sorts of precious wares…crystalware…and a commemoration plate of Misha the Bear from the 1980 Olympics that he had boycotted. The other Turkics would talk about it from time to time, and he’d be completely lost. He had tried to ask them about it once.

“Oh right, I forgot,” Turkmenistan sighed, “You missed out. On like, a lot. So much time and effort and meticulous planning…”

“Hey, it’s no big deal, Turkey! You can still watch the recorded footage on Youtube! ‘Course, it won’t be the same, but you’ll still feel a sliver of what we had felt.” Kyrgyzstan patted him on the back.

…Yeah, they probably had a grudge.

On one shelf, he’d found a bunch of old black-and-white photographs of what seemed like her, her siblings, and of others. In one of them, she was in a kitchen with Ukraine, both of them laughing and folding varenyky together. Another was a family photo, with Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Kyrgyzstan standing up, and Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan sitting down on chairs. Kyrgyzstan had a hand resting on the top of Kazakhstan’s chair, while Turkmenistan placed a hand on Uzbekistan’s shoulder.

There was also a photocopied painting of her from her time as the Bukharan Khanate. The artist was quite talented, capturing her regal look, the many decorations and jewelry that accessorized her clothing, down to the embroidery. But he had to admit, nothing compared to seeing her like that in real life all those years ago, when she was still a stickler for rules, but was energetic and had more light in her eyes. Nargiza insisted the change was because she had “matured into an adult,” though he felt there was more to it than that.

“I was pretty back then, too, wasn’t I?” Uzbekistan chuckled as she came out of the room with a designer tote bag.

“Here. I hope this will feel more comfortable and if not, it’s at least a disguise since I’m actually not allowed to bring animals inside the office.”

Turkey hopped into the bag. His tiny cat legs brushed against her other supplies: her makeup pouch, a portable phone charger, a few snacks, and her wallet.

“Careful, by the way. This is designer.” Nargiza put on her heels, grabbed her bag, and got in her car.

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

“Hello, Miss.”

“Hello.” She gave her assistant a gentle nod.

“I thought you were on break?”

“Well, yes, but I forgot my clutch purse on my desk. I came here to retrieve i—what’s wrong.”

Her assistant shifted his weight on one foot to the other. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but notice, but…there’s something in your bag. It’s quite furry.”

If Turkey could sweat, he would right now.

“A-ah! Well-! That’s my—”

“It actually looks like a cat. Miss Uzbekistan, did you bring a ca—”

“Shh! Yes, I did. A…friend dropped it over at my house to take care of. I couldn’t just leave it at home.”

“...Can I take a couple pictures?” Her assistant slowly held up his phone.

“Who are you going to show it to?”

“Oh, just my family at home. You know how my daughter loves cats…”

“Sure. Just don’t disturb the cat.”

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

Turkey was groaning for the past five minutes ever since they had left her office.

Come on…Think about my dignity! My pride as a man! To be taken photos of and shown to little girls…This isn’t right!

Uzbekistan sighed. “He’s a responsible guy, hence why I chose him as my assistant. Your photos are safe.”

YOU CHOSE A GUY TO ASSIST YOU AT WORK???

“Please be quiet. My stomach is rumbling…How about some lavash?

Turkey cocked his head to the side.

We’re having…bread for lunch…?

“Lavash…you know, like kebab?”

Oh.

Turkey sat on the table and snacked on a mini lavash Uzbekistan had the vendor make for him, while she munched on a larger one fit for a human’s stomach, petting him with her clean hand. Turkey still couldn’t get over how clear everyone’s voices were in the mall, overlapping each other like newspaper clippings.

“So, what do you think?”

Turkey meowed, his eyes dilating.

“Ahaha! So cute…your eyes are getting bigger! So you do like it, hmm?” She scratched behind his ears and below his neck.

God, this is embarrassing…But it feels so good…

He leaned into her touch, and at this point Uzbekistan laughed louder, placing a hand on her mouth so as to muffle them.

“We still need to go grocery shopping for your tuna,” she said as she wiped his mouth with a napkin before placing him in her bag.

She hauled 8 cans of tuna, along with her already heavy tote bag thanks to a certain orange cat, back to her car.

“Who knew tuna was so expensive these days?”

If Turkey could speak, he would have probably reminded her of her economy and the fact that she was a landlocked country where the only tuna she'd be getting are imported. But he had a feeling she knew that already.

The ride home was mainly silent, occasionally interrupted by Uzbekistan awkwardly trying to make small talk with a cat, who could only respond in meows and chirps she was unable to understand.

“Ah, what a long day…” Uzbekistan kicked off her shoes and flopped on her couch.

“But I can't relax yet. I need to give you a bath.”

G-give me a bath?! Turkey's face scrunched up. Don't you know cats clean themselves?

“Usually, I don't really wash cats that often since they can clean themselves well. But you…I don't know when you'll turn back. Just in case, I'm going to give you a bath so that your hygiene doesn't end up compromised. Now!”

She scooped him up and carried him into the bathroom, Turkey yowling the whole way there.

I hate this…

Turkey was sitting in a small plastic tub of water as Uzbekistan cleaned him up with pet shampoo she had secretly bought at the store earlier.

“Let's get your little paws…” She hummed to herself, gently scrubbing and kneading them.

Turkey felt conflicted about being treated like a baby(even if he was being taken care of by a pretty lady), taking his inner turmoil out on the water as he swiped his paws back and forth against the shower head.

“Ahah!! Stop! You're getting water all over me! Sadik, please! Ah!” She squeaked and laughed, attempting to shield the oncoming water with an arm.

Sadik looked at Nargiza, whose face had burst into red from laughter, the colors collecting most at her cheeks. Her other arm was clutching her stomach out of pain.

“Haha! Look at-snrk-look at you! It's like you stuck a fork into an outlet or something!”

Turkey bat the water against her with more force.

He had seen her appearances on TV, and her laugh was elegant and ladylike. A hand covering her mouth as she laughed, with the “ohoho” kind of laugh you'd see young ladies do in period dramas.

But after looking at her again as the water sprayed on her, as she laughed so hard she was beginning to snort and tears were coming out of her eyes, her mascara ruined, his heart blossomed with a certain adoration.

He was looking at her real laugh, not the suppressed one.

After a short moment of more laughter, she managed to whip out her phone from her back pocket in time to take pictures of Turkey's wet sponge form.

No doubt she'll send this to the group chat…

“W-wait, let me just…” she manipulated his fur into little spikes, and with shaky hands, took more photos.

Uzbekistan snapped to her senses, trying to calm herself down. After taking a deep breath, she grabbed a towel and began to dry him off.

“Ah…I-I couldn't help myself. If it makes you feel better…you look adorable….in an ugly way…?”

Turkey meowed with a hint of irritation, hoping the point gets through. It's all he could answer, since he wouldn't be able to magically speak to her and tell her how it was completely fine because of how adorable and pretty she looked as she laughed her ass off.

She looked at him and his slight frown. “I'm sorry, Turkey. I should make it up to you. How about some sardines as a treat? Lithuania brought me some all the way from Vilnius.”

He meowed, as if he was considering the offer.

“And…and you get to sleep with me tonight.”

At that, he stood up on his hind legs and raised his front paws, now very satisfied with the offer.

It took everything in Uzbekistan to not squeal as she gave him upsies, pulling him to her chest and carrying him to her room, where the blow dryer was…

…To which she laughed once again as Turkey's fur puffed up under the blast of the dryer.

However, she cuddled him in her sleep, and he couldn't be upset about that.

As she snored away, Sadik in her arms, Nargiza's phone was blowing up with the other Turkics replying to the photos she had taken of him.

Turkmenistan: ahaha! he seems to be doing well under your care! sending him my love ❤️

🇰🇿kazakhstan🇰🇿: oh my gosh…sister please don't be so cruel think about his feelings 😭

skibidisigmaohio123: we got unc getting a cat bath before gta 6 😂😂😩🗣️

kyrgyzstan: society is healing

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#aph uzbekistan #hws uzbekistan #aph turkey #hws turkey #hetalia #sadik adnan #nargiza yusufqizi #tokki writes #turkuzbek

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bellysoupset · 1 year ago

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Hey up! I FINALLY have an idea for Lucas as the sickie and bell as the caretaker! (Well it’s more of a small request) maybe He’s been running errands with bell all day and just kinda suffering in silence for the whole day until he finally gets home and it all kinda hits him at once and kinda topples over in pain and of course some Emeto but please feel free to make changes etc etc !! 🌙 peace out 🌙🌙

oh heheeh, time to torture this cutie again.

------

Lucas had been spending the majority of his time at the hospital. As the only one who didn't work, that meant he could spend most of the time keeping Vince from breaking bed rest.

Still, that had been taking a toll on him and also, generally, in his personal life. Normally Bella left the house obligations to him, since he had more free time than she did, and with the renovation of their new condo, his list of errands had all but doubled in a quick amount of time.

Bella: did u pick up the new lamps?

Oh yeah, the new lamps. Lucas groaned, rubbing his temple and across from him Vince glanced away from the old rerun of Friends he was watching.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Luke shook his head, "just forgot to pick up some stuff. In fact, I'm pretty sure I forgot to pick up a lot of stuff."

Vince snorted, "that's because you've been babysitting me, even though I said five times already that I don't need a baby sitter. Wendy is in the hospital, Jon too. Casey the nice nurse is here and Tony the hotter nurse and Claire the one that I'm pretty sure spits on my food. I'm fine."

Lucas let out a chuckle, lowering his forehead to the hospital bed mattress, only to feel Vince's fingers in his hair, petting it lightly, "get out of here, Luke."

"Uhmm, okay," Lucas nodded, but didn't move from his position, "in a second, as soon as I get the energy."

Vince hummed, tapping the top of his head, "you good, Luke?"

"Yeah, just... Just tired, I guess," Lucas shrugged, straightening up. Now that he had a second to assess himself, he realized he wasn't actually feeling all that well.

His stomach hurt, but Luke chalked it up as hunger. He hadn't eaten since morning, because unwillingly, his own meals had synched up with Vince's mandatory ones. He also felt lethargic as hell.

"I don't want to see you here tonight," Vince shooed him with his good hand, "I'm serious, I'll ask security to ban you. Get out of my hospital room."

Luke rolled his eyes and got up, "sure you will, you love my company... But yeah, I think I need to rest, your couch is comfy but not nearly as comfy as my girlfriend's bed."

"Bet Bella also doesn't snore as much as you do," Vince grinned, "get out of here."

Figuring he should tackle the first issue first, Lucas headed straight to the hospital's buffet before even running his errands. People said hospital food was garbage, but what people meant was that the severely sick patients with different amount of sodium intakes allowed were served horrible, unsalted food. The cafeteria one, though, Luke had learned through his teenage years, was awesome. No one wanted nurses and doctors unhappy.

He piled on his plate with food and then sat down at a little table on the corner, taking his time to answer all the texts he had left for another time. Vince's mom had gotten his number and she was just as chatty as her son. He had a backlog of at least ten texts from her.

Bella had texted him too, although hers were less conversation and more her utilizing one of their many group chats to dump on their list of chores. He sent her a saluting emoji and "on it boss". She texted back with an eyerolling emoji and then, "you're coming home tonight, right Lucas?"

How could he ever even say no.

Lucas: ofc, i miss my girl.

He saw her little bubble pop and disappear twice, before her answer appeared.

Bella: and here I was thinking I'd have to fight Vince

He snorted at the mental image and pocketed his phone, turning his attention to the food. He hadn't managed even half the plate, but his stomach already felt full. It was unlike him, he was the type to have seconds and thirds.

Luke pushed the meatballs around his plastic plate, trying to figure if he should overdo it or risk throwing it away and being hungry later. Deciding he really didn't want to derail his day by having to eat again, he mechanically chewed the remaining meatballs and got up.

As soon as he was up his stomach jumped to his throat, in a nasty belch that he had no control over. He slammed a hand to his mouth, catching the tailending of it, but far too late. On the table next to him, some nurses wrinkled their noses and glared in his general direction, causing his cheeks to burn.

He made his exit quick after that.

Home Depot wasn't his natural habitat. In fact, it was almost an alien landscape, snob kid that he was. Lucas felt like every worker there was deeply aware how out of place he looked, even if common sense actually told him he looked like he belonged.

He spent more than thirty minutes trying to decode whatever Bella had meant when she typed "eggshell mud green paint" and eventually decided that fuck it, grabbing the ugliest shade of green he could find and putting it inside his cart.

The more he walked around, confident that he was picking every single piece wrong no matter how hard he tried to decode the instructions, the more it hit him that he had been wrong. His nausea earlier hadn't been hunger.

Lucas grimaced, pressing his stomach against the horizontal cart handle. It caused his stomach to let out a gurgle and he muffled another burp, blowing it out under his breath.

His phone buzzed and he picked it up, squinting at the screen. The queasy sensation spreading all over him was making everything else too much. The bright white lights over his head, the store radio, his clothes clinging to him.

Bella: can you buy me tampons 😭I forgot

He groaned then nodded, only to realize a second too late that Bell obviously couldn't see him.

Lucas: yeah. that green brand with the pink things?

Bella: sí.

He pocketed the phone again, then groaned as a horrible taste flooded his mouth. It made him shiver, his hair glueing down to his forehead.

Giving up on home depot, Lucas paid - even though he was pretty sure he'd have to return - and headed to the parking lot. He barely got to load all the packages in the backseat, before his stomach churned again and Luke ended up bending in half, retching to the gravel between his sneakers.

Nothing came up, but his nausea jumped up a notch. He spat the bitter taste in his mouth and rubbed his stomach, sweat running down his forehead and his shirt glued to his back, even though it was a pretty chilly day out.

He rasped out, trying to catch his breath and keep his lunch down at the same time, which was proving to be a challenge. Another wet burp rolled up and Lucas groaned, pressing his forehead to the leather of the seats in front of him.

He palmed over his belly button, where he could feel some angry gurgling and pressing. Another sickening belch made past his lips, offering not an sliver of relief, but pushing the nausea back enough that Luke could straight up. His lips were covered with drool and Lucas grimaced, wiping his mouth and his forehead.

Well... fuck.

He still had to stop by the pharmacy, so despite his whole body aching and the contents of his stomach sloshing every time he so much as breathed, Lucas got to it.

The pharmacy was brighter than home depot, causing him to squint the entire time as he picked up the package of tampons, grabbing the cramps medicine with one hand and planting it all over the counter with a groan.

"Good... Good evening...?" the cashier sounded horrified and Lucas sighed.

"Not really," he took a step back to avoid breathing in their direction.

"Do you have our loya-"

"No, please," Luke groaned, "just... Please."

Catching the memo, the blonde before him scanned his itens as far as possible, flinching in sympathy when Luke's stomach gurgled.

"I also get super nauseous on my period," they said and Luke frowned, confused.

"I'm not... It's not my-" his stomach cramped again and the pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, gulping down and deciding not to clear up anything, "yeah, it fucking sucks. I'm sorry for-" he gestured to his general self, "keep the change."

"Feel better!" came a squeal behind him, followed by "ginger helps!"

He wasn't sure ginger or anything could help. Luke felt drunk by the time he pulled up in front of their place and he couldn't insert the fucking key.

His stomach was crawling up his throat and he gagged, liquid splashing on his tongue and puffing out his cheeks... He swallowed it back down, dropped the key and then slammed a hand against the door, "BELL! Open-" he gagged and slammed the door again, "BELL!"

He heard a distant squeal and then footsteps, followed by "Luke? Did you forget your-"

As soon as she opened the door, his stomach turned again and the only thing he could do in order to not throw up on her was grab his girlfriend by the arm and push her to his side, as vomit covered the very spot she had been standing on.

He crumbled down, falling to his knees and Bella let out a curse, barely avoiding the puddle of sick and holding his shoulders, "hey- Hey, Luke- Lucas-"

He was far from done. His stomach was still burning, bubblying with sick and he retched again, bracing against the floor and gagging as his hand met hot chunky vomit.

Bella planted a cold hand on his forehead and supported his head, a good thing she did because the next heave was productive and if it wasn't for her holding his head, he'd have covered his shirt with it.

Red sauce sprayed all over the Welcome In mat and Lucas groaned, wrapping an arm around his stomach and turning around, dizzily falling on his ass, head meeting the open door.

"Joder, Luke," Bella cursed, hands cupping his cheeks and gagging softly as her knee met the puddle that was impossible to avoid, "what the hell, baby...?"

"Sorry," his voice was completely gone and Lucas ducked his head, belching to his lap and spreading his legs apart so he could spit on the already destroyed mat, "sorry, I-"

"That was frankly the most impressive Exorcist imitation I've ever seen," Bella teased lightly, leaning in and planting her lips to his clammy forehead, "I think you're running a fever, Luke."

"Kill me," he groaned pitifully, muffling another burp against her band t-shirt, "my stomach hurts, Bell..."

"Okay, uhm..." she ran a hand through his hair, then down his sweat covered shirt, "you need a shower... I'm gonna-" Bella grimaced, glancing at the mess on their front door, covering the mat, running down the brick step, "Yeah, I'm gonna trash that mat and wash this down, alright?"

"Sorry-"

"Shh," she kissed his temple, "are you done?"

"Fuck no," Lucas groaned, "I had a large lunch."

"Well, you couldn't have known-"

"I knew," he grimaced, leaning back against the door and rubbing his stomach, tugging at the shirt and sighing as his girlfriend helped him strip it off, despite the fact they were sitting on the front step, facing the street, "my stomach was already hurting, but I thought it was hunger..." he burped, pressing on his belly, "I was wrong."

Bella let out a disappointed sigh, "clearly," she rolled her eyes, then used his shirt to wipe down his mouth and glanced at his belly, "okay, can you stand?"

"Give me a minute."

"Sure," she cringed, stroking his cheek, "let's sit here with the puddle of vomit."

"Uhm," Lucas smiled, tiredly and rubbed yet another wet burp up, "I got you the tampons."

"...Ah puta mierda, Lucas, you didn't have to go to the pharmacy when you were sick!" Bella exclaimed, "no wonder you couldn't make it home."

"I did make it home," he glared at her in a lighthearted manner, then gagged as another churn warned him his stomach was done with his silly teasing. He burped in his fist and then patted Bella's hip with his free hand, "move-"

She almost fell off the step in her rush to move out of the way and Lucas groaned as he felt her hands on his shoulders, keeping him from leaning too forward. He gagged, no longer bothering to aim anywhere. It was already a horrible mess.

Bella's thumb was rubbing lazy circles on his nape and Luke tried to focus on it, but it was to no avail. With another belch, he coughed and a gush of chunky vomit joined the previous mess, some of it covering the hem of his jeans.

"Gross," Bella mumbled, "take a deep breath, Lu-"

He heaved, loudly, and another watery amount rushed up, stinging his nose, mostly pink instead of the cartoonish red from before, "I think..." Lucas burped, spitting the thick saliva pooling in his mouth, "think I'm done."

She let out a humm and kissed the top of his head, "alright, then hold on me. Let's get you in a shower... Or to a priest."

Lucas groaned, hugging his stomach, "don't make me laugh, my stomach is so sore."

Bella opened a smile, grabbing his arm, "up, up, up."

He allowed her to pull him to his feet, swaying on the spot and grabbing on the door handle to keep him from toppling over her, "this isn't fair, my first night home in three days."

"You might consider where you picked this stomach bug in the first place," Bella said, gently maneuvering him around the cramped house, towards the bathroom, "I'm going to tell Wendy."

"About me hurling?" Lucas blinked, confused as Bella pushed him inside the shower and turned the water on, his jeans and sneakers be damned.

"Yeah, it's worrying if you got this in the hospital," she said, then gestured to the water, so he'd get in.

"Okay," Lucas sighed in relief as the water washed down the clammy sweat, hands fumbling with his jeans that were getting heavier and heavier with the water, "this wasn't very smart- Ow!" he jumped as Bella slapped his hand away and promptly undid his pants, "watch those claws, Bella!"

She snorted, crouching down to peel them off his legs. She grabbed his hip when Lucas swayed and moved up, balling the ruined pants in her hand, "I'll be back in a second. Don't fall and hit your head."

"I'm a better patient than Vince."

His girlfriend rolled her eyes, "not by much, baby. Not by much,"

#sickfic #emetophilia #emeto #mywriting #lucas atwood #lucas x bell my beloveds #stomach flu #🌙 anon #i have not reread this one and my corrector is in the wrong language #so i expect it to be typo filled

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