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thebrochtuarachs · 3 years ago

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Something in the Rain - “A Month Apart, Part 2”

A/N: Hi everyone, sorry this chapter came a little bit later than I intended but here it is. I've had some family things I need to take care of so in order to rest, the writing got put on hold. But do know that this story is on my mind and I hope you enjoy this update :) Stay safe and as always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire.

AO3 / C1: A Day In June / C2: Definitely, Maybe / C3: So We Meet Again / C4: Friday Lunch / C5: Finding Solid Ground / C6: Situations / C7: Interruptions / C8: A Month Apart, Part 1

XXXXX

The call was scheduled beginning Claire’s lunch and Jamie’s dinner. They opted for this time since Claire’s schedule was clear for the rest of the afternoon and Jamie was happy to stay up late for this. Her supposed agenda that day was to get some research and paperwork done but after what happened yesterday, she knew they needed to have a conversation.

Gathering her laptop, lunch and paperwork, she settled on her desk and waited for Jamie’s call. And right on time, his caller ID pops up in her laptop and she accepts.

“Hi, Claire.” Jamie greeted from the other line. Just by the way he addressed her so formally immediately told Claire just how nervous he was.

“Hi, Jamie.” she chimed back. Hoping to light the mood, she decided to take the lead in the conversation. “What time did you get home?”

“Erm, got home around 6:30, 7:00PM. Freshened up a bit and for food - well,” he held up the take out box from the table to show to Claire. “Thanks for these” It was a box of their favorite comfort food and Jamie could not feel any much more relief. “How about you, what’s for lunch?”

“Oh, it’s sub day today here at the hospital. So got the biggest one I could order to last me the day.”

“Any food over here in Scotland ye miss?”

“Honestly, the chicken! I’ve tried some here but nothing tops Mrs. Kim’s” As Claire shared that sentiment, Jamie took one wing on his mouth, prompting Claire to roll her eyes. “Right, rub it in, will you”

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat ye to some once yer back.”

“I’ll record that raincheck” After a short laugh, the line went silent. They both knew it was time to address the elephant in the room.

“Claire, I want to let ye know what happened yesterday.” Jamie began. Claire was silent, a hesitation etched on her face.

“Are you sure? You don’t really have to -” Claire replied, hesitation etched on her face. The past three months of Jamie and Claire dating has been kept much in the down low with none of the tabloids catching drift of one of Scotland’s most eligible with the pediatric doc. It was unusual but they accepted that gift of privacy. It allowed for them to get to know each other freely and without much pressure so far.

But now, things have slightly changed with Jamie back in the spotlight, worse, linked to another woman. With all the things they’ve discussed so far, these - their past, the media - were not one of them yet. With that, it’s not that Claire didn’t want to hear Jamie’s story - it’s that she didn’t want him to feel forced to share something he or they aren’t ready to talk about yet.

“Just...please” he pleaded.

Claire took a swig of her coffee and nodded.

Flashback

Jamie was nearing his house when his father suddenly called. Clicking the screen on his dashboard, he answered his call.

“Yes, Da?”

“Hi lad, where are ye?” Brian Fraser spoke from the other line.

“I’m near home now. Why?”

“I just got off the phone with Lord Dunsany and he’s inviting the family for dinner.”

“Where will it be?”

“At the Number One”

“Alright, I’ll be there in 20, see you and ma, I hope!”

Jamie sighed but putting his family first overweighed whatever he was thinking about.

He honestly didn't like the Dunsany's that much. There was an air to them that didn't sit well with him but he shrugs them off as 1.) They are long time family friends, and more importantly, 2.) long time business partners.

Both their families have benefited from a decades-long relationship that going to unexpected dinners like this is something he just has to do once in a while. He turns his car to the next corner and heads to the restaurant.

Arriving, he hands his car to the valet and enters the restaurant to find their table. He should not have been surprised but seated on their table was his mam and da, the elder Dunsany’s and their eldest daughter, Geneva.

Again, after knowing each other for a long time, Jamie isn’t and wasn’t blind to Geneva’s attempts to flirt and get him. He was able to avoid it for so long as he’s always been respectfully direct with declining her advances. But as they grow older, the more persistent not only Geneva, but little by little, their entire family is joining in this cause to get them together.

Jamie took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever was to come. He sat down and immediately took note of the other people he wished were there. “Hi Mam, Da” he greeted his parents with a kiss on the cheek for his mother. He proceeded to his seat, acknowledging their guests. “Lord, Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he bowed to them and they returned his greeting. “Is Gideon and Isobel not joining us?

“They had other things to do” Geneva quickly replied, leaving it at that.

The night proceeded as usual, business talk over dinner. The Dunsanys are looking to expand their real estate business to the Americas and want to get the Frasers opinion on their dealings. On the topic at hand, the dinner was quite enjoyable as it was a conversation Jamie was happy to chime in.

Geneva, to his few observations, was relatively quiet for some reason. Maybe because she didn’t understand it as much since she wasn’t as involved in the family business unlike his siblings, opting to work as a brand ambassador or influencer through her big social media following.

But it didn’t feel like that to Jamie. It seemed like she was waiting for something to happen or come up. She kept looking at her father urging him to do something but he discreetly pacified her everytime she got impatient.

After a few more minutes, Jamie’s hunch would prove right.

“So, in addition to the planned expansion, Geneva here has finally accepted our offer to join the business and she’ll be heading to the U.S. to study and eventually, train and oversee the project on behalf of us.” Lord Dunsany shared. The announcement came as a shock to the Frasers though they didn’t let it show. They offered their congratulations to Geneva which she graciously received.

“Jamie, lad - “ It was Lady Dunsany’s turn to speak. “We’ve heard in the past from your parents that you’ve been planning to take further studies as well. Why not accompany Geneva and study overseas together?”

“Your family also has some business in America. You can continue to work as well from there if you wish be. Plus, it’ll give you time to maybe get to know our little girl better.”

So, there it was. Lady Dunsany winked at his direction as she and Lord Dunsany tag-teamed to put out this request. Geneva, for her part, nodded furiously and was shameless at showing her agreement to their proposal. Her eyes gleamed with hope as if it was already a done deal.

Jamie was dumbfounded on their very bold request. He looked at his parents for help but they seem to be at a loss of words as well.

“I, uhm, - “ Jamie braced himself, unsure what the consequences of this be. “Thank ye of thinking of me but I have to respectfully decline the offer.”

“Do ye not want to study anymore? You don’t have to decide right now about this, please take your time to consider. We’re not in a rush anyway.” Lord Dunsany replied, trying to control the conversation once again. However, his last statement sent death glares down his direction from his daughter.

“No, it is still in my plans.” was Jamie’s plain answer. The table was silent for a good 10 seconds when the implication of his response sunk in.

“Are you saying it’s me you don’t want to be with?” Geneva’s tone was calm and angry, her resolve was slowly dissipating, raising everyone alert on the table.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s more of me...not wanting to leave someone behind.”

Geneva had a confused look while all four parents’ interest piqued at this new information. Jamie closed his eyes to muster the courage to get through the next minutes. He turned to his parents, addressing them directly, while being mindful of their guests.

“This is not how I imagined telling ye guys this, and of course to you Lord and Lady Dunsany, Geneva” he acknowledged them one by one before focusing on his parents again. “But I’ve started seeing someone and it’s fairly new...”

“That is ridiculous! You haven’t been seen with anyone in ages! I mean I would know if you are, our social circles are not that wide…” Geneva started reasoning to herself. “Unless… she’s not?”

Jamie didn’t react or say anything that would give Geneva or the Dunsany’s any more ideas they can prod on.

Geneva quickly fetched her phone and nibbled with it. She turned to the guests and excused herself. “I’m sorry everyone but I have to leave. Jamie, walk me to the car?”

Jamie nodded and stood up. He may have dropped a ball on her but he’s still a gentleman.

On the way out of the restaurant, he can hear more interrogation from Geneva in his periphery. “Who is she? Do I know her? Is she from here? Is she even real?”

It was one fast question after the other and Jamie didn’t bat an eye but rather, lead her by the arm to get her going a little bit faster. Once they were out, he didn’t notice anyone except her car and driver. He escorted her in and bid her simple goodbye.The last thing he heard Geneva say was it wasn’t over and that they’re going to have another talk on this.

When he got back to the table, the foursome was on to dessert, the earlier conversation seemingly forgotten and passed. When dinner was over, they went their separate ways.

Jamie walked his parents to their car when Brian made a joke to break the ice. “What a night, huh?” Ellen giggled which made their son comfortable speaking with them.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to make it awkward but I couldn’t find a way to lie about it or give them false hope.” Jamie explained and Brian and Ellen were happy to give him some slack as he knew it was the right thing to do.

“I know, son. But what we are more surprised to hear is about your new friend.” Ellen pried and the smile that Jamie flashed just told them this was different. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Claire” Jamie shared.

“And?”

Jamie jokingly shrugged. “She’s a doctor and we met around 3 months ago.”

“3 months and we haven’t heard of her?”

“Well, in my defense, Angus and Rupert have met her. I assumed they would babble it straight to ye.”

Brian and Ellen was just shaking their head. “Well, we need to remedy that, lad. If yer ready or such, we’d love to meet her.”

“So that’s what happened last night. As for the picture, I’m guessing there’s a pap I did not see outside the restaurant and - my parents want to meet ye.“ Jamie said in conclusion. “I mean there’s no pressure really but I wanted to let ye know.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.” Claire took a bite of her sandwich and sip of water. “So, how are you in all this?”

“What?” that was the last question Jamie thought Claire would ask. “How am I?”

“Yeah, I mean what are you feeling?” she looked genuinely concerned and it baffled him.

“Is this some sort of reverse psychology thing cause I know you have questions Claire and I’m more than happy to answer them”

Claire smiled briefly and raised a hand to settle him. “I know you are and I do have them. And this is not some psychology thing too” she laughed at that. “But before anything else, I want to know how you are.”

“I - “ Jamie let out a breath and released a tension he didn’t know he was holding in. He wants to be open to Claire but he wasn’t sure just how much yet. Their growth has been slow, gradual, and intentional, and the pace was working well for the both of them. But this situation did not fit that criteria.

“It’s okay” Claire assured him, breaking his thoughts and easing his hesitation.

Jamie nodded and began. “With Geneva and the photo, I’m frustrated. I hope you know that this part of my life is not something I wanted to hide from you, Geneva especially. It’s just not something I thought about us talking about yet. With the media, maybe I was buying us some time before they got a whip of this, of us, when this needs to be public, and of course, I need to know how you feel about that, but then again, conversations for a later time. As for my parents, a little anxious but more intrigued on how you feel about it.” He was out of breath after explaining that it was his turn to take a sip of water.

“Jamie” Claire called and Jamie leaned on his screen closer. “I honestly don’t know what exactly to feel about Geneva at the moment. I get it, you have a long history and you might feel it doesn’t but it amounts to a little something. Was I surprised? Definitely. Jealous, to be honest, surprisingly not. But I would love it if you could tell me more about this and your family when I get back.”

“I’ll tell ye everything, Claire” Jamie affirmed.

“Doesn’t have to be everything at once” Claire joked and thankfully, Jamie laughed. “As for meeting your parents…”

“You don’t have to decide on that now, Claire.”

“I know. No pressure . But...” Claire smiled. “...if you feel like the time is right, let me know.”

Jamie felt relief as he flashed a breathless smile, looked up and wiped his face with his hands. Claire, on her end, put her elbow up on the table, leaned her head on her hand, and just observed him.

“Happy?” she asked.

“Very” Jamie replied. “I canna wait till you’re back, Sassenach.”

“I know, me too. Just one more week. Now,” Claire shuffled some papers around. “I do need to get back to work and you need to go to sleep”

“Aaah” Jamie pouted and looked at his watch, it was almost 10PM. “I can stay a little bit more, keep ye company.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me if you come in late to work tomorrow.”

“Eh, can’t promise that.” Jamie jokingly shrugged. “So, how’s your day so far?”

And just like that, after an uncertain overnight, everything was back to its good place again.

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mommy-imagines · 4 years ago

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Pretty Boy - part. 3

Content: Mommy Kink. Sugar Mommy. MILF. Protectiveness. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Insecure Atsumu. Age-play. Diapers. Breastfeeding.

Words: 3.705

A/n: This chapter is to introduce Atsumu to the idea of letting his walls down with Mommy and fully trusting her. There is no smut, but the next one will, for sure.

Atsumu kept his head lowered, pulled his hood over his head, low enough to cover part of his eyes, he was suddenly glad beyond words for Mommy having made him wear sunglasses; There were reporters and paparazzis surrounding the entrance of the place where they held their practices and even worse than the blinding flashes of the cameras were the yells from all sides. Atsumu felt himself freezing to the spot when they finally identified him and instantly he was surrounded. He felt trapped and he didn’t like it one bit.

He didn’t know what to do but then, as if materializing from thin air, Mommy was by his side, her hand firm on the small of his back and her security team forming a wall between them and the screaming reporters, “Ma’am, over here! How long have the two of you been together?” Atsumu cringed, all that he wanted at that moment was to be back home with Mommy, curled up on the large couch in the conservatory, the big windows letting the sun in, he liked the pretty flowers that were placed all around the room.

“Baby?” He heard Mommy’s voice directly on his ear and turned to look at her, he was wearing sunglasses but she just knew that his eyes were wide and frightened, “You’re going to keep your head down and follow me, okay?” She posed it as a question but it was a statement, really. Atsumu nodded and leaned back on her hand. Mommy looked at one of her security guards and then they were quickly walking across the sea of camera flashes and screaming people.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing that Mommy said as soon as they were safely inside. Her assistant, Alexa, was somehow also there and Mommy handed her her purse and her coat, reaching for Atsumu’s gym bag and handing it to Alexa as well. She largely ignored the other people present, eyes scanning over Atsumu, looking for any sign of him being hurt. Atsumu drew in a shaky breath, looked down and fuck but his hands were trembling; Mommy reached up to his face and took off his sunglasses, her expression turning stormy the moment she identified the look in his eyes as pure distress and panic, “Okay, baby,” She said, her voice pitched low enough only for them to hear it, “You’re okay, no one’s going to hurt you, no one’s even going to touch you; Do you want to go home? All you have to do is say the word and we’re going,” She assured him, right hand cupping his cheek, her forehead touching his own.

Atsumu swallowed around the lump on his throat and shook his head, “I’m okay,” He offered, even if his voice was rough, “I’m going to be okay.” He corrected himself at her disbelieving look.

She gave him one last assessing look before turning around, eyes sharp and furious, “Is anyone going to tell me just what the hell was that circus out there?” She demanded. The room turned silent, enough that it was possible to hear a pin drop, suddenly no one could meet her eyes. Mommy pressed her lips together. “Alexa?” She prompted and her PA was by her side in seconds, having transferred the previously handed objects to someone from the security team.

“It seems that the tabloids have received pictures from the two of you out around town last Friday, ma’am; We have been getting calls all morning asking for an exclusive interview.” She informed, and Mommy didn’t look all too happy.

“Alright,” She sighed, eyes roaming around the room filled with team’s executives and players alike, she turned back to Atsumu, “I suppose that you need to go to practice, I need to get to the office, if Alexa is right about this, my day is going to be hell; What time is practice over?”

Atsumu cleared his throat, still a bit shaken and very much uncomfortable having all eyes on him like that, when he was so vulnerable, “Four thirty.” He informed her, the unsaid Mommy, stay, please don’t leave me here alone! was heard loud and clear by the two of them, for Mommy’s eyes turned sorrowful suddenly.

“Okay, I’ll send a car, Richard is my second driver, he’ll be waiting for you; Also, Vladmir, Maxim!” She called two security guards that were standing near the door; Atsumu chanced a look at them and, sure enough, they were taller than him, packed with muscles that even dressed in suits were possible to see, Mommy kept looking at them, but her hand was rubbing small circles on his shoulder, Atsumu leaned into the comforting touch, “The two of you will stay here with him, don’t let any of those vultures out there near him, do you understand me?” Her voice was stern and authoritative and if it was any other moment than this one, Atsumu would get aroused just by hearing it. But, alas, he was still very much shaken from the shitstorm outside and very much self conscious being on the spotlight.

“Yes, ma’am; They won’t touch a hair on his head.” One of them answered, voice gruff.

“You better hope so,” Mommy responded and then she turned back to Atsumu, her eyes instantly becoming gentle again and her voice turning low so no one else would hear it, “Baby, Mommy needs to go, but if at any moment you feel uncomfortable and want to leave, or if anyone here says anything to you, you can call me, doesn’t matter the time, and I’ll come and get you, okay?” She assured him, her voice not louder than a whisper, but all that he could muster back was a nod, blinking fast enough so no tears would come, “Okay, I’ll see you later,”

And with that, Mommy was calling Alexa back to her side, her own security team, and was out of the door. Atsumu felt a moment of panic when he realized that not only was he alone and away from Mommy when all that he wanted was to be held, but on top of everything he didn’t have a clue as to where Alexa had dropped his gym bag. He turned to the side to go look for it, but one of his new guards handed it to him, “Here, sir;” He said, voice rough but respectful. It made Atsumu feel weird, being addressed like that and in front of people. This whole day just felt off.

“Thank you,” He said nonetheless, because the day might have taken a turn for the worst and he might be on the verge of a complete meltdown, but he was still Mommy’s good boy and Mommy always said that he had to remember his manners because he was a polite boy. Atsumu swallowed again, shouldered his bag and turned around, walking through the sea of people on the foyer, he didn’t lower his head but man, did he want to. He kept going until he reached the changing rooms.

Once he made sure that it was empty, Atsumu allowed himself to sink back against his locker, eyes falling closed and head banging against the metal. He took in a shuddering breath, brought up a hand to rub against his eyes firmly, determined not to cry in the middle of so many people who, clearly, already had more than enough reason to talk about him. Atsumu wanted to curse, just under his breath, a way to try and unwind, but then again, Mommy didn’t like it when he used bad words, said that that was no language for a good little boy to be throwing around. He was screwed.

“‘Tsumu?” He heard a tentative voice sounding from the changing room’s door and forced his eyes to blink open, he turned his head and was faced with Bokuto, Omi and Hinata, all looking at him with shock just barely concealed by their worry, “Are you alright? That shit was crazy outside, maybe you should sit down, man,” Bokuto said and Atsumu gave him a small smile.

“I’m doing good,” He offered, cleared his throat when his voice sounded much too rough to his own ears and didn’t miss the concerned looks that his friends traded, “But thank you; How are things out there?” He asked, motioning to the rest of the gym.

Omi’s eyes were watching him closely but Atsumu was grateful when he humored him with a small grin, “Executives are going crazy, mostly,” His rushed to add more when Atsumu’s eyes grew big hearing that, “Not in a bad way! No! They’re talking about how to turn the press around and how it is actually good press to the team;”

Atsumu nodded slowly, “In the end, they’re all just very much worried about making sure that your girlfriend doesn’t turn her rage to them, I think that I’ve heard something about doubling security. They're all terrified of her!" Hinata added and Atsumu shifted in place. He did not like to inconvenience people at all and now not only was Mommy having to go out of her way but also people he worked with!

He longed for Mommy and he wished that he could just call her and go home - But he knew that he had to stay for practice. They had important games coming soon, plus he didn’t want to give everyone else even more reason to talk about him behind his back, “I suppose that I should change, then;” Atsumu threw them a small smile, grabbed his uniform and went to do just that.

/*/

They were having a small break, just enough time so everyone could catch their breath and drink some water. He was sitting down on a bench, head between his hands, just resting, when he felt his phone vibrate beside him. He turned to reach it, the ID said Mommy 💖 and showed a picture of Mommy hugging him from behind, his face tucked against her neck and a big smile on her face. Bokuto was sitting directly to his side and Omi and Hinata were standing up in front of them, if any of them saw the phone’s screen, none of them said anything about it and Atsumu was grateful for it, especially because he caught the shocked looks they all suddenly tried to hide.

He grabbed his phone, answered the call and went to a corner of the court so no one would overhear his conversation, but he was acutely aware of his teammates staring curiously after him.

Mommy wanted to know how he was feeling, how was practice going, did anyone say anything to him or did he want to go home? Atsumu reassured her repeatedly that he was fine, as far as possible, and that no, no one had said anything to him, at least not to his face.

(He didn’t mention how he had walked by just in time to see a group of his coworkers going over the pictures from the tabloids from their day out shopping, calling him a sugar baby and saying that at least he made good eye candy.) (He didn’t mention that because he knew that if he did, Mommy would drive down immediately; Still, he knew that he needed to tell Mommy about it at some point, because it made him sad and made his eyes sting with unshed tears and one of Mommy’s rules was to never keep secrets from Mommy, especially when they made him sad.)

They said their goodbyes, Mommy told him to hang on just a little longer and then he could go home and she would meet him there and they could cuddle with Toulouse and he could nurse from Mommy.

Atsumu had to say goodbye quickly after that, because thinking about that made his brain feel fuzzy and he couldn’t afford that.

He joined the others and pretended not to notice when the conversations suddenly came to a halt.

/*/

When practice finally ended, Atsumu was the first one out of the court and into the showers, quickly washing himself clean from the sweat, gritting his teeth because he liked it best when Mommy was the one to wash him clean, always in the bathtub with the water the perfect temperature and smelling nice and with bubbles. He scrubbed his hair harder.

Atsumu was quick to pat himself dry and to pull on his clothes. Skinny jeans and a hoodie; Both were gifts from Mommy from the day that they went shopping, one of the bags with Armani printed on it on the many pictures splayed across the tabloids was the one that had been holding his current attire.

“‘Tsumu, wait a moment!” Bokuto called for him and Atsumu noticed that his teammates were just walking past him to enter the changing room while he was ready to bolt, “We just wanted to ask you man, if you’re happy,” Bokuto was looking at him with wide eyes painfully earnest. Atsumu looked to Hinata and to Omi and both of them had similar expressions. “We’re just asking because all day you have been on edge, it's all.”

“I am, I promise,” Atsumu smiled at them, it was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless, “I’m just still a bit shaken from this morning, was not expecting that crowd at all,” He forced himself to give a short laugh, “But yes, I’m happy, I really am.” He told them, prayed to god that his voice sounded as sincere as he felt.

They stared at him for a few seconds and then he was met with three matching grins, “Good! So if you’re happy, we’re happy too!” Hinata told him happily, coming forward to give him a hug, “Also man, I might be jealous of you, she’s just… wow!” He ended, nodding appreciatively, and Atsumu had to exercise some restraint because that was his Mommy! No one else was allowed to think about his Mommy like that! But Hinata didn’t know that and he was being a good friend, so Atsumu laughed softly and nodded at him.

“Does ‘Samu know?” Omi asked him and Atsumu looked down guiltily.

“I suppose that now he does know, but we were planning on inviting him over for dinner this weekend so we could tell him ourselves; Bit too late for that now, I suppose,” Atsumu confessed, mind working a mile a minute trying to figure it out his brother’s reaction. His phone had blown up earlier with texts from ‘Samu, but he didn’t have the nerve to look them over.

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine.” Bokuto told him and was about to say something else when one of Atsumu’s new bodyguards (he couldn’t wrap his head around that concept) appeared by their side.

His hands were crossed firmly in front of him, his shoulders were squared, and he said something on his earpiece before turning forward and looking at Atsumu, “Sir, the driver is here and your car is ready, there is still a crowd upfront so we have worked with the team’s security crew and will be leaving by the back door. We have orders to work around the media so as to not let them get near you and then to take you straight home. Whenever you’re ready to leave, just let me know.” He informed him, voice professional.

Atsumu turned to his friends to say goodbye, all that he really wanted was for Mommy to cradle him close, maybe rock him a bit, but his friends were watching him with raised eyebrows and big grins, “I suppose that I could definitely get used to living like that,” Bokuto joked before coming forward and friendly slapping his shoulder, “Go on man, I bet that you must be drained from this hell of a day, if you need anything, just text me, alright?”

Atsumu nodded and looked at his friend, “Yeah, thanks man,” He smiled. He bid his friends goodbye and followed Maxim as he guided him through the building and out of the back door, straight inside one of Mommy’s town cars.

As Atsumu sinked into the leather seats, he felt his eyes closing. Not much longer now and then he could curl up in Mommy’s lap with his best friend and forget all about this damned day.

/*/

When he got home, Atsumu went straight to Mommy’s bedroom; Undressing quickly and immediately hiding completely under the soft covers. He felt exhausted and sooner rather than later, his cheeks were flushed pink and were wet with his tears.

He didn’t really know why it was that he was crying, it wasn’t like he had never been the center of attention before, but maybe it was the fact that he felt exposed and raw. So wrapped up in his own spiraling thoughts that he was, that it took Mommy pulling him into her lap for him to notice that he was no longer alone, “Oh, baby;” Mommy cooed, rocking him slowly and smoothing his blonde hair back and away from his face, tsking when he gasped for air, “Baby, it’s okay, you’re okay, Mommy is right here and Mommy isn’t leaving,” She cooed at him for long moments, his large hands balling into tight fists where they were bunching up the fabric of her silk shirt.

Mommy continued to hold him close and to rock him slowly until he was all cried out, only then reaching for the bedside table for a baby wipe that Atsumu was not sure where it came from, cleaning his face from tears and wiping his nose, “Are you feeling better, baby?” She asked him, bright eyes looking down at him in worry.

“A bit,” Was his response, voice hoarse from crying, hand coming up to rub his eyes, “How was your day, Mommy?” He asked, voice small.

Mommy looked at him with a small frown, but indulged him nonetheless, “It was fine, as far as it could be; A lot of calls asking for interviews,” She rolled her eyes before sighing softly, “But we won’t be doing any of those, so there’s no need to worry over that.” She informed him and Atsumu felt a bit calmer with that piece of information, “Have you eaten anything?” She frowned heavily when he shook his head no, “I’ll ask the cook to make you something, nothing too heavy,”

“I’m not hungry, Mommy,” He told her, “Can we just cuddle and eat later?” He asked and she hated with a passion how small and unsure his voice sounded.

“Okay, baby,” She conceded, “But you’re eating dinner later on,” Mommy’s tone didn’t allow any objections and Atsumu just nodded; He studied her face when she bit her lower lip as if thinking, before bringing her hand to caress his warm face, “Baby, Mommy wants to try something a bit different tonight; You might not like it at first, but Mommy really thinks that it’ll help you relax, do you remember how you felt last Friday when you nursed from Mommy for the first time?”

Atsumu frowned a bit and Mommy smoothed it over with gentle fingers, “Felt fuzzy, weird but not a bad weird,” He responded, hands coming up to play with the pearls around her neck, hazel eyes studying it intently and Mommy smiled down at him.

“It’s called a little headspace, darling,” She said, hand continuing its motion on his cheek, “That is when you go into a headspace of an age younger than your biological one,” She told him, shushed him softly and held him a bit tighter when he hid his face on her neck, “There’s no need to feel embarrassed, baby; Mommy wanted you to feel like that, didn’t you feel safe? Like you could just relax and let Mommy take care of you?” She hummed once he nodded hesitantly against her neck, hand coming up to cup the back of his head, “Well, now Mommy wants to try something else that might make it easier for you to slip right back into that headspace. Mommy knows that you had a very stressful day, and I think that my little boy deserves to relax now,”

Atsumu swallowed thickly, arms wrapping around Mommy’s middle as he tried to burrow closer to her. He knew that he should feel weirded out, maybe fight this entire dynamic, but should he really? Mommy had done nothing but care for him all this time, she never let him down and she never allowed him to feel self-conscious. He felt Mommy’s fingers cupping his chin until his eyes were meeting hers, he knew that his cheeks were bright red, “Okay, Mommy,” He said, trusting her with yet another aspect of his life.

Mommy kissed his lips softly, gave him a bright smile, “Okay, baby, lay down on the bed, Mommy will be right back;” She said and Atsumu moved to do as told. His eyes watched her with rapt attention as she disappeared inside the walk-in closet and came back with a large bag. She offered him a kind smile as she showed him the first object and Atsumu felt himself go numb with embarrassment as he identified it as a changing mat. Mommy patted his hip softly and he raised his body just enough for her to place it underneath him, “You know, baby; Mommy thinks that maybe you should have your friend with you,” Her voice was tender as she handed him Toulouse and immediately Atsumu hid his face on the soft orange fur. He closed his eyes tightly and felt himself floating away, barely processing Mommy’s actions as she wiped him down, powdered his privates and taped the diaper around his hips.

It was only when Mommy was moving him again, cradling him close to her chest and guiding his mouth to her nipple that Atsumu allowed himself to assess the feeling of having the puffy garment wrapped around him. He felt oddly comfortable - safe, even. He closed his eyes again, brought his stuffie up so it was smushed between his chest and Mommy’s and allowed himself the solace of being in Mommy’s arms.

He fell asleep soon after and Mommy allowed him to break the rule of never skipping meals.

#mommy.writes #atsumu miya #sub atsumu #imagine #atsumu imagines #mommy kink #md/lb

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gucciwins · 4 years ago

Text

Frosty the Snowman

Harry and Y/N love the holiday season but Harry takes the teasing a bit to far and well Y/N decides to give it right back.

Word Count: 5126

A/N: hello! thank you so much to @goldenbluesuit for organizing this wonderful christmas fic challenge. thank you for allowing me to participate, kate. i’m so happy i got to be a part of it. merry christmas and happy holidays to you all. sending you all a big hug and lots of love.

_____

Christmas has never been much of importance in your life.

That was until you began dating Harry.

Harry and his family loved celebrating in particular because Harry was gone for so many months of the year. They loved giving gifts, and Harry loved spoiling his family. He was a true family man who loved to be doted on by his mother and teased relentlessly by his older sister. His smile never leaves his face when he's with them.

Ever since Harry found out how you spent the holidays alone drinking wine and hot chocolate on and off and binging all the best holiday movies. He declared that was not acceptable and that furthermore and until the end of time you would be spending it with him and his family.

The first year was something out of a storybook, a house full of kids and adults, Christmas music all day, and a big festive dinner. Gifts passed around, photos being taken to be added to the end of year scrapbooks. Lots of stories being told; honestly, it overwhelmed you.

Anne found you outside wrapped up in Harry's coat that you swiped before slipping out unseen. She stood next to you, overlooking her garden with you. "My son loves you; he's brought you here not to overwhelm you but to let you know that you have a family here, and you always will." You let your tears run free, feeling comforted, and loved. "I've never seen him shine as bright as he does when he's with you and when he's speaking of you. We all want you here as much as he does." Anne then pulled you into a long hug, the motherly hug you never got growing up. Reminded you not to stay out too long.

Three Christmases later, you now take part in family traditions, helping Anne cook dinner and staying in sweats and playing family games all of Boxing Day.

It's what makes your move to London with your boyfriend of four years easy. Knowing they want you there, knowing that the love Harry has for you won't fade, you've gone through many hurdles together, and it only strengthened your bond to one another.

Four years together, and you're still learning new things about each other, like Harry having to have coffee first thing in the morning, bread was a must-have always in the house, and that he owned more mugs than he needed. He picked up that you adored your shoes, meaning you wouldn't throw them out until they were ripped and beat up enough for a new pair. Also learned that you rather eat lots of fruit during the day than making food in the kitchen because it meant more dishes that would be needed to wash. You loved doing the laundry, Harry knew it was to steal his shirts, but he didn't mind. He always knew where to find them.

The one thing that really surprised him was your love for Christmas music; you knew every song, maybe couldn't remember the name, but you would be able to sing it. It never failed to make him smile; you even knew ‘Feliz Navidad’ and didn't butcher it as he did.

Your love for Christmas music was signified because you never celebrated the holiday, and music was easy to access. It was what you immersed yourself in.

This is why Harry is confused when he hears you begin to sing ‘Frosty the Snowman’ under your breath, then switching to a soft hum in the tune of the song as you start to place your freshly washed sweats in their drawers.

Harry was not sure why you did that; you loved singing out loud. You had a decent voice, as you liked to say, but why switch.

You're clueless to Harry watching you, deep in thought, trying his best to analyze you.

Then Harry gasps; it all clicks, making sense.

You raise your head to look at him, shutting the drawer with your hip. "What?"

"You don't know the lyrics." Harry accuses.

"To what?" You step towards the bed, wanting to finish the rest of this to finally go down and each lunch.

"Frosty the Snowman."

"I do." You defend.

Harry smirks, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"No."

"Why not?"

You frown before taking a deep breath and begin to hum the song correctly to Harry.

"Okay, you know the tune, now the lyrics." He gestures for you to go on.

"Frosty the snowman..." Your voice dies down, you rake your brain for the correct lyrics, sending a smaller prayer you're right. "had a shiny nose?"

"Oh, this is golden, love." He's laughing now. It's filling up the room.

"Harry," You whine.

"You call yourself the Christmas Queen." Harry is holding his stomach, his laughter getting to be too much. "Next, you're going to tell me you don't know the lyrics to 'All I Want For Christmas Is You.'"

"How dare you, that came out in our birth year." You're over making fun of you.

"Okay fine, but really so many years, and you never learned. You said you love all Christmas music, and well, that's a classic, dove."

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers getting caught on the tips for not brushing it out. "I never actually got to make a snowman, so I never listened to the lyrics."

"Are you secretly a Grinch as well?" Harry teases.

You throw a balled-up shirt of his and hit him square in the face; it quiets him down. "Conversation over."

You walk out of the room, leaving him alone, to his chuckling.

_____

In your home, something was always baking.

It was either Harry trying to better his last bread or you baking a new vegan cake that Gemma sent you.

It's something you both loved to do.

For you, though, it was your own form of meditation. No matter the time of day, if you felt your head spinning, you'd just head to the kitchen and begin to take out ingredients letting that be your only focus. The Great British Baking Show also brings a lot of comfort to you, Harry happily laying his head on your lap, your hand running through his hair as you just let the show play on and on.

Now, you're in the kitchen for a whole other reason; you're baking gingerbread cookies, from snowflakes to snowman and even little reindeer. Harry has invited friends over for a fun holiday decorating party. It sounded like a good idea until he left you to do it all yourself as he ran errands that he pushed off for a week.

Thankfully, there were no distractions during the time it took you to make one hundred cookies because there would be casualties during the decorating. Just as you were putting the last dozen on the cooling rack, does your phone ring causing it to cut off Paul McCartney's singing of 'Wonderful Christmastime.'

As you pick it up to answer, you check the caller id and see that it's Gemma calling.

Gemma forgoes a greeting and goes straight to the reason for her call.

"You don't know 'Frosty the Snowman!'" She exclaims more than asks.

"I'm going to kill him." You groan into the phone.

Gemma laughs, "No, no, please don't. Mum likes you too much to see you behind bars."

"Gem, he's been relentless." Thinking back to the past few days and how he'd randomly come up to you and just begin to sing the lyrics to you, not shutting up until you tickled him too much to continue. "Please don't let it come up later."

"I've got you," Gemma assures you.

"Thank you."

"As long," Gemma begins, but you groan jokingly into the phone.

"Go on," You sigh, knowing this is how the eldest Styles sibling acts.

"As long as you tell me what Harry bought mum for Christmas."

"Alright, fair." Very well, Harry would most likely spoil this himself the closer the holiday arrives.

Just as you were about to spoil Harry's gift, he walks through the kitchen, saved by the devil himself. "I'll tell you later when you get here." You tell Gemma, smiling at Harry as you bid his sister goodbye.

"Who was it, love?" Harry asks, kissing you lightly on your lips, being able to taste the gingerbread on your lips that makes him beeline to the cooled cookies.

"Gems, a huge birdie told her I don't know the lyrics to a popular song." You lean against the counter, smiling as he has a cookie in hand already; he is also a big reason you made so many.

"Hey," He says, offended, a cookie half shoved in his mouth. "I'm not huge."

"Never said it was you, hun." You smirk. "Thanks for fessing up."

He pouts, not liking that you outsmarted him.

"Might want to watch the cookies." You pinch his love handles, snatching what was left of the cookie from his hand and heading upstairs.

Harry watches you walk away, upset that you stole his cookie; also, he knows you love his winter gains.

_____

You and Harry are up fairly early, he likes to go on a run around the neighborhood, but you like going to the park. This morning you skipped your run because Harry was meeting up with a friend for breakfast.

Sure, you got up at your usual time at 7am and began to prepare yourself breakfast. You usually drank coffee with Harry and seeing as he wasn't here, you decided to skip it, instead going straight to the fridge to get the fruits and orange juice to make a smoothie. Something simple, not wanting to clean much after.

As you finally settled on the couch, getting ready to read Educated by Tara Westover, a book Gemma recommended to her then gifted to her. Tara's memoir is her story of how she comes from a Mormon background and recounts how she educated herself to go to college and learn about the world. It's a Friday, and what better way to spend it lost in a book.

You had just flipped it open when your phone rang, alerting you to a message. As much as you didn't want to check because you were finally in a comfortable position, you knew it could easily be Harry checking in who gets worried about not getting a reply even five minutes after. He's a worrier at heart.

As you retrieve it and settle yourself back down, not at all comfortable anymore, you see it's a message from Iz. She was the first friend you made on your own that Harry didn't introduce you to. Iz saw you at a coffee shop you began to frequent and complimented your tote bag that had wildflowers embroidered on it. You thanked her and shared you made it. Iz was shocked, just throwing compliment after compliment. You offered to make her one, but she said you had better teach her instead. Thus, a friendship began.

Her message read:

Radio 1 Breakfast Show. Listen in!

It was definitely a strange message coming from Iz, but you did as told.

Greg James was saying goodbye to his special guest, no idea who it was. "Before he signs off, he's going to play you one of his favorite Christmas songs," Greg says, then silences, allowing his guest a moment before speaking.

"This week's Christmas song is in honor of my girlfriend who loves singing Frosty the Snowman... without knowing the lyrics. Happy Holidays."

Your jaw drops.

That your boyfriend's voice. You are the girlfriend.

He went on record.

Harry really went on live radio to tell thousands that you don't know the lyrics to a Christmas classic.

You want to laugh because you never expected this from him and are annoyed that something personal now the whole world will know by the end of the day.

You can't wait until he arrives home.

"Harry Edward Styles!" You yell as you hear Harry open the front door.

He looks sheepish. "Yes, my darling angel."

"You told me you were having breakfast with Greg James, not that you were going to be on the Breakfast show."

"I took muffins, and they provided coffee, therefore, breakfast." Harry defends

"You exposed me to all of the UK to not knowing 'Frosty the Snowman.'"

"No one knows you're my girlfriend." Harry tries to brush it off.

"We've been dating four years; I'm not that much of a secret. Anne posts me on her story from time to time, and your friends follow my Instagram, fuck; you've introduced me to Greg." You're not angry, more annoyed than anything because he won't let this go.

"It's just to give everyone a good laugh; no one is going to hold it against you."

"No, just my boyfriend and everyone who listens to the Breakfast Show." You cross your arms before storming up the stairs away from Harry.

"Love? You're not actually mad, right?" Harry asks, pushing the bedroom door open.

"You even got Iz on it!" Your turn around with a pout on your face.

Harry laughs. "I honestly thought she wouldn't go through with it."

"Well, I see where her loyalty lies."

Harry steps close and pulls you into his chest. You sigh, wrapping your arms around him. He knows how much you love his hugs.

"I promise this is the last I mention of it."

You frown into his chest, not at all believing him. Harry pats your bum, and you take that as the queue to look up at him. He's smiling down at you, leaning in to give you a quick peck. "I promise."

"Okay, then." You lean in and kiss him, firmer this time and much longer. Harry sneaks his tongue in, instantly getting a moan out of you.

"I know how you can make it up to me." You gasp, pulling away,

Harry raises an eyebrow at you. "Do tell."

A smirk on both your faces as you guide him to the bed, very much hungry for something that wasn't breakfast.

_____

Harry has the Christmas playlist running; it's a Sunday, meaning they spend it at home doing absolutely nothing. To be truthful, they rolled out of bed past ten and still have their pj's on. Not at all bothering to change, why waste more clothes if no one will see them like this in the comfort of their own home.

You cooked grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and now are playing a game of scrabble.

Harry puts down the word 'light,' then reaching his hand into the black pouch to pick five letters to have seven once again. You are looking back and forth between the board and your letters, thinking of the best place to place your word.

"I've got a question," Harry says, looking at you, wanting all your attention as well.

"What is it?" You're focused on your letters. Rearranging them, not putting down the 'q' in your hand. It's currently useless but will eventually give you a word to win the game. Not that you both ever keep points, oh no, that stopped after you beat harry 120 to 66, and he flipped the board, causing letters to fly everyone. You still claim that there are missing letters.

"Frosty is a cute name."

"Reminds me of that Wendy's dessert. I'm still not sure what made it so good." You say, maybe you should get up and eat some. Harry did just pick up new flavors that he had been wanting to try something about them being richer in flavor.

"You're getting off track."

"Sorry, Frosty is cute for what?" You don't let him answer before you're speaking again. "A dog, did you get a dog?" You pause, looking up at him, "a cat, did Anne find a stray and wants to give them to us?" You wait, but Harry is about to crush all your excitement.

"None of that." He shakes his head at you, and disappointment fills you immediately.

"Well, can this conversation end then? I'm disappointed."

"Darling," Harry chastises you for not letting him go on.

"Go on then, mate." You gesture him to continue. Shifting your attention away from the game in front of you.

Harry frowns, his eyebrows pinching together in the sweet way that makes you want to rub them out until he's relaxed. "Why'd you call me, mate?"

"Oh, I've called you this before." You brush off Harry's reactions; he's always dramatic.

"I'm not your friend." He states.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head and really look at Harry. "Well, of course, you are boyfriend," You emphasize, dragging out the word. "You're my best friend."

"You can't say boyfriend anymore. I'm your fiancé now." Harry states proudly, but you feel a little dumbfounded, not knowing why he is saying that.

Your eyes widen when you look down at your left hand, and no ring rests on your left ring finger.

"Fuck, I missed your proposal, and the ring got lost." You pout, trying your best to stop the smirk from coming out.

"Darling, I'm sorry." Harry quickly apologizes. "I'm still your boyfriend, but I will be proposing soon." He promises. "Shit, you were supposed to not even know. I really am bad at hiding things."

"Fuck, you really are." You laugh, "but boyfriend sounds cute. Can't I still say boyfriend when you do?"

"Doesn't fiancé sound nicer?" Harry tries.

You shrug. "Not as fun, husband is nice."

"You're rejecting my future proposal, then." Harry is teasing, and you can tell by the sparkle in his forest eyes.

"Of course not, you dummy. You can be my fiancé and my boyfriend." You tell him like it was the most obvious answer.

"Seems like a lot of work."

"Rude." You stick your tongue at him.

"Right, love, well try to remember I'm your husband once we're married, no more boyfriend."

"I will, hubby. You're going to be my hubby."

You both go silent.

You burst out laughing, "That's awful, I hate it."

Harry chuckles, nodding his head. "Yeah, I do as well."

"This is why I'm the brains in the relationship."

"Right," Harry rolls his eyes at you, not at all agreeing.

"Uh, darling, I went to uni and got two degrees while you only finished school at sixteen before going off to steal millions of hearts around the world."

"Including yours." He teases.

"I was always more a Zayn girl." You correct him.

Harry throws his arms up, "Can never let me win, can you?"

"Nope"

"We're off-topic." Harry realizing how far they strayed from their starting point.

"Where did we start?"

"Frosty."

You sit back, resting against the couch; you take him in and smile at how cuddly he looks in the purple robe that he stopped letting you use. "Well, go on."

"Seeing as-" He pauses, hearing the familiar opening notes to the song he was thinking of. 'Frosty, the Snowman' is now his favorite song. "Perfectly timed, as you don't know the lyrics to Frosty the snowman."

"Gosh, you're never going to let this go," You grumble.

"Nope. I figured we will have a little fun with this."

"More fun than the breakfast show."

He gives you a pointed look.

You let out a long sigh, "Let's hear it."

"You learn all the lyrics and sing it for me, and I'll let you get us a dog or cat." Harry's grinning at his idea, knowing you'll agree without a fight.

"Can we go to the shelter?" You look like a kid on Christmas morning who had just received their presents from Santa, and in a way, you have.

"Yes, we can. Only if you can learn the entire song." Harry tells you again, wanting to emphasize the singing.

"Done deal."

"Great, I'm giving you a week."

You smile wide, nodding, looking, finally focusing back down at your words and the ones Harry has placed. You put down the word 'queen,' and this wins you the non-official game. Harry looks down at his poorly hidden score sheet and curses under his breath.

"I win."

Safe to say you lost more letters that day.

_____

It's been a week, and Harry is patiently waiting on their bed as you get ready in your shared closet. Your shared closet is large and mainly holds all of Harry's clothing. You definitely have a nice share of clothes filled with gifts from friends as well as Harry's friends and your treasured thrifted pieces. You smile at yourself in the full-length mirror.

Harry really can't begin to imagine what you have in store for him.

The speaker is set out and ready, and all that is needed is for you to make your entrance.

You shake out your hands in hopes of ridding yourself of the nerves. You look yourself over one last time before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

"Close your eyes." You call out.

Harry rolls his eyes but does as he is told.

You walk over to the speaker and press play, letting the music fill the room, making your way to stand in front of Harry, who slowly opens his eyes.

He gasps; he feels himself start to get hard. His eyes can't seem to take everything in fast enough. You smirk, loving the reaction you got out of him. It gives you the extra boost of confidence you were needing.

You stand there, hand on your hip in a sexy snowman outfit to go with the performance you are about to give.

The dress, if you can consider it with how short it is, has three black buttons in the center. The material hugs your chest nicely, giving Harry a nice view of your breasts that are close to popping out. The dress hugs your waist and begins to flow out right past your butt. You wore your favorite black heels that Harry sometimes begs you not to take off. You had on a plaid scarf and a black hat that matched it perfectly.

You were the human version of the snowman except for a more rated r version.

Harry is sitting his mouth wide open at a loss for words. You blow him a kiss before letting the song lyrics flow out of you.

Frosty the snowman

Was a jolly happy soul

With a corncob pipe and a button nose

And two eyes made out of coal

You sway your hips side to side, singing, enjoying the ravenous stare he was giving you. You throw the hat, letting it fall at his feet, but not even that breaks the gaze he has on you, not wanting to miss a single movement of yours.

Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say

He was made of snow

But the children know

How he came to life one day

You take a few steps forward, but never enough to allow him to touch you, and he's craving it; you know he is. His hands are gripping his thighs, his knuckles turning whiter by the seconds.

He still hasn't said a word. You have him mesmerized.

You sing the lyrics proudly, knowing you practiced all week for this moment. The moment Harry will never forget all the teasing he had been doing, always forgetting you win these battles.

There must have been some magic in that

Old silk hat they found

For when they placed it on his head

He began to dance around

"Baby," Harry breathes out, putting a hand out to touch you, but you take a step back before he can do so.

You smirk, shaking your head no at him. You were having a lot more fun than you expected.

You bend over, slipping off your heels, never breaking eye contact with Harry; he could very easily see up the dress that you had nothing underneath. His green eyes turned dark, and you swore your heart stopped, and you were sure he was about to attack. You were the prey, taunting him until he had enough, but surprisingly enough, he took a deep breath, and his composure was back well, just a bit of it.

O Frosty the snowman

Was alive as he could be

And the children say he could laugh and play

Just the same as you and me

You stopped right in front of him. Harry's eyes trained on your red lips, hanging out to every word you were singing. You reached a hand back and began to unzip the dress. The grin on your face excited for the next reaction you were about to receive.

Once you reached the bottom of your back, the dress fell to the floor. Harry let out a loud gasp. Your breasts on display, the small owl tattoo on your hip staring at him, he could see how wet you were, and all he wanted was his head between your thighs as you screamed his name.

You were a dream. You missed Harry's touch. It was the reason you stepped close enough for him to finally pull you in.

He led them down the streets of town

Right to the traffic cop

And he only paused a moment when

He heard them holler "Stop!"

Harry has no expression on his face as he sits you on his lap. He lets his head fall into your next, feeling how wet you are through his thin sweats. You move to stand up, but he grips your hips tightly, thrusting his hips against yours, searching for some kind of relief or a reaction from you because you still haven't stopped singing.

"Baby, stop singing." His hand is cradling your cheek as his lust-filled eyes stare at you.

You shake your head, not letting him distract you. The only piece of clothing left was the scarf, and Harry lets out a growl before ripping your scarf off your neck, throwing it off to the side.

Now you truly sit there naked in his lap, and you feel all the control you have over him. The song is coming to an end, meaning you've got to remove yourself from your favorite place to sit but knowing you'll be back there soon enough.

Frosty the snowman

Had to hurry on his way

But he waved goodbye, saying

"Don't you cry I'll be back again someday"

You sing the final lyrics in his ear before walking away to turn off the speaker, an extra sway to your hips, knowing Harry is very well still watching your every move. You stand a delighted look on your face as you wait for his praise.

"Those were the longest two minutes of my life," Harry says; he puts a hand over his heart, feeling like it might just burst out. "I'm never going to be able to listen to this song in public or around anyone that isn't you."

You smirk, thrilled to hear that.

"What did I do to end up with someone as beautiful and perfect as you in my life." He confesses.

"Probably stopped a war in a past life." You throw out jokingly.

Harry puckers his lips and makes grabby hands at you. "Kissy, please?"

And who are you to say no? He spreads his legs, letting you step in between. You slip your fingers into his hair, pulling back with enough force to have him let out a moan. You lean down and connect your lips in a hot kiss, one that has Harry gripping you tightly wherever he can get his hands on. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you happily give up the control to him.

You pull back and rest a hand on his chest, preventing him from pulling you back for you. You wipe your thumb over his bottom lip that now has some of your red lipstick. "Seems like I won, sweets."

"I feel like the real winner here," Harry tells you cheekily, sneaking a kiss to both your boobs. You giggle, not at all surprised by his action.

"Well," You fiddle with the collar of his shirt. "Why don't you show me how winners celebrate?"

"With pleasure." Harry groans standing up quickly and pushing you back against the best. He strips as fast as he can, not without a small stumble; you're sure to keep your giggle quiet, knowing very well how easily he gets embarrassed.

He is quick to get on top and kisses you hard. His kisses are always soft, but it seems the teasing seemed to flip a switch, one that you will happily remember to look to turn on again on a later date. Tonight, you are ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

Harry connects their lips, ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

_____

Christmas cards were a lovely tradition. Harry insisted they started because he wanted to show off his beautiful girlfriend to his friends and family. He also liked them handwritten because it added a nice personal touch. Who were you to argue about it?

This year you were the one excited to send them out.

It read: Merry Christmas from our beautiful family to yours

You and Harry sat in front of the fireplace, four stockings hanging behind you. Harry made you sit in his lap, wanting to show off your matching two-piece buffalo plaid pajamas. You both had the biggest grins on your face, eyes shining bright. Next to you, laying on top of a box that was wrapped with blue sloth wrapping paper, was a one-year-old Australian shepherd that had spent the better of six months in the shelter because the small pup was quiet who didn't do well with people, but that changed instantly the minute he met you. You decided on the name Frosty for him. Not only did Harry get you the dog of your dreams but a small kitten as well. You brought home Snow, a six-month white Birman kitten who was the rut of his siblings, and how could you just not bring him home with you with his big blue eyes staring at you begging to add to your family because he had lots of love to give. At least that's what you told Harry what the look he was giving you meant. The two siblings laid next to each other, both surprisingly staring right at the camera, making it their best Christmas photo yet.

A photo can honestly speak a thousand words because one glance at this photo tells you how much love there is in that home and their relationship.

Christmas was all about spreading joy and love, and well, Harry accomplished just that for you.

_____

thank you so much for reading! i honestly hoped you loved it and would love to hear what you thought so send me a message if you like.

i love you!

#harry styles #gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #christmas #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff

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robinofinashiro · 4 years ago

Text

sypnosis: mini scenarios for a few BNHA boys.

characters: mirio togata, bakugou katsuki, and izuku midoriya

request status: OPENED / all fandoms I write for are pinned to the top of my page as well as my rules! feel free to request as you’d like!

he has to come pick you up drunk from a club:

oh god, mirio is crying from laughter the minute he sees the way you are. the look of being plastered is written all over your face and you couldn’t stop laughing for some odd reason.

Nejire had called him on the fact that you were complaining that Mirio wasn’t here to enjoy the night with you. the reason why was that this was your last night before becoming a married woman and mirio wanted you to enjoy it before the wedding.

a part of his mind knew that this was going to happen though. you got very clingy to him when you drank and although he was hoping that you didn’t get as drunk tonight, the call from Nejire made him know he wasn’t getting what he was hoping for.

he grabbed his shoes, making sure to put all of the medicine you would need in the morning on the night stand before heading out the door. you and Nejire were at a club not too far from where the both of you stayed so the drive wasn’t even more than fifteen minutes.

once he arrived to the club, he flashed his ID to the security outside and walked in. the club was relatively packed for a Friday night but once he saw Nejire’s bright blue hair, he knew exactly where you were and how loud you were being.

when he finally spotted the two of you, he could see how drunk you actually were. you had a cup filled with whatever alcoholic contents you were drinking and singing, actually more like screaming, to one of your favorite songs.

“babe!” he sang, trying to catch you attention. you still hadn’t realized it was Mirio as your eyes were still closed and taking small sips of your drink, “( your name )!” mirio screamed again. finally, you heard your name and turned around, “MIRI!” you screamed, jumping onto him.

he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, “ready to go home?” he asked, seeing the way your eyes were getting droopy, “you can’t hungover to your final fitting tomorrow,” he informed, grabbing your bag and phone.

“boooo!! i wanna stay and party with you!” you exclaimed, trying to get him to stay, “nope! we gotta get you home or else no wedding,” he saw the way your eyes instantly watered at the idea, “babe! no i was kidding!” he exclaimed, trying to back track on the comment.

your lip stuck out in a pouty way as he grabbed your wrist, “see you tomorrow Nejire!” he said, knowing she’d probably come over after all of you got done with the final dress fittings, “yup! she’s making me dinner actually!” she yelled as he grabbed her own things to head out, “make sure she doesn’t die on me tonight,” she giggled.

“i’ll make sure! see ya!” Mirio said as he felt your weight get heavier. he looked down to see that you were already starting to fall asleep as you walked, “i swear, what am i gonna do with you?” he joked, as he put you in the passenger seat, making sure you didn’t double over in the process.

you accidentally get hurt in front of him:

all of you were doing some simple training on the grounds outside of UA. it was nothing that you hadn’t done before but there was something that was not making you preform at 100%

you noticed a few weeks ago that you weren’t preforming as best as you could because of the weight you gained over the winter break (lmfaoo, this is 100% self projecting). you couldn’t stand the fact that you weren’t skinny as the rest of the girls were and decided to put yourself on a diet.

because of said diet, you were strictly drinking water and a very small dinner.

no one had noticed it but you weren’t seeing the results you were hoping for. at first you thought you had to cut off the dinner portion of your diet but you knew if you had done that, you weren’t going to succeed in your performance either.

you were fighting Kirishima, giving him a decent run for his money as you countered each of his attacks with one of your own but Kiri had noticed how tired you were getting. your attacks were strong but they weren’t as quick as he had seen them before.

“you okay?” Kirishima asked. you nodded tiredly as you stood back up, getting into a fighting position, “nothing i can’t handle!” you exclaimed. he laughed, shaking off his concern before going in for another attack.

as soon as you felt the impact of his punch on your stomach, you knew that this wasn’t going to end well. you instantly fell back, flying a few feet from where you were before and hitting the wall with a giant thud as you slipped down.

at first, Kirishima had thought that you were just messing with him in order to get him riled up but when he saw that your body remained slumped on the ground and you weren’t getting up, he instantly ran over to you. “hey!” he screamed, seeing your eyes closed, “hey, get up!” he yelled a bit louder.

Bakugou, who was fighting with Momo, had saw the interaction from the corner of his eye and instantly dropped the match. he ran over to you to see you still passed out on the ground. Momo caught Aizawa’s attention as he had saw you still not moving, “take her to recovery girl,” he informed Bakugou, knowing that if he didn’t take you, he wouldn’t allow anyone else, “and let me know the extent of her injuries,” he added on.

Bakugou nodded, basically scooping you into his arms and running to her office. once he got there, he pushed anyone who was already waiting for her away and slammed the door open, screaming that you weren’t awake and you had passed out from training.

recovery girl, being used treating Midoriya, sighed and told him to put you on the spare bed as she took out her tools to see what was wrong with you. once she hooked you up to a few machines and let them check your vitals, she instantly saw the issue.

“when’s the last time she’s had a proper meal?” she asked, a bit in disbelief, “her water intake is fine but her food intake is extremely low. it looks like she hasn’t ate a significant meal in a while,” she told Bakugou, showing him the screen. his eye twitched, trying to remember when’s the last time he actually saw you eat.

“i’d suggest you bring her something to eat. by the time you arrive with food, i’m sure she’ll be up,” she said, basically kicking him out of the room until you woke up. Bakugou growled, not wanting to leave you but he knew better than to piss Recovery Girl off and did as she ordered.

it took about an hour for him to come back with something for you to eat when he saw you awake, playing with the blanket and trying not to focus on him. he stared at you, trying to suppress his anger as best as he could.

“what the hell happened?” he asked, setting the plate down and looking at you. it was like a dam breaking as your tears came down in strides. you tried to explain but all Bakugou heard was the hurt in your voice as you basically confessed your insecurities, “listen you idiot,” he scoffed, sitting down on the bed and wrapping his arms around you, ��your body is fine. nothing is wrong with you and even if there was something wrong, you should have told me,” Bakugou said.

you nodded, trying to hide your face on his side, “but if you have such an issue with how you look, come and work out with weird hair and i. don’t pull some stupid shit like this ever again,” he warned as he put the plate of food on the small lap table, “and i won’t be leaving you until i see you finish all of that food.”

the two of you run into your ex:

both you and midoriya were running a few errands for his mom while the two of you were visiting her. you had offered to help her with dinner before you were due back at UA and she asked if you and midoriya could run to the store for a few things she was missing.

before you and midoriya got together, you had been friends with him for a while. you, bakugou, and midoriya had attended the same middle school and when all of you got accepted to UA, he confessed his feelings for you after a few months.

you and midoriya were walking down the street, groceries in hand and his other arm wrapped around your shoulder. he had been talking your ear off about some all might facts when he felt you come to a sudden stop and become stiff.

he followed your eye trajectory and realized who it was. it was ex and an ex that you practically had a death wish on. the two of you dated the summer before entering UA and broke up after he made some sly remark about how you didn’t deserve to go to UA with the weak quirk you had.

“lets try to find another way back home,” midoriya murmured. the two of you tried to turn the corner but it was too late. your ex had saw you and basically screamed your name before running down the street to see you, “hey!” he yelled with disgusting happiness.

you turned around giving him a fake smile, “hey,” you whispered, feeling midoriya’s grip get stronger. your ex saw the way he was holding you and frowned, “how have you been!” he asked, trying to ignore midoriya. “okay, just been at UA, training and all that,” you replied.

your ex nodded, trying to get closer to you but midoriya instantly pulled you closer, “so, are you here visiting his mom?” he asked. you nodded, a bit happily, “yeah, ever since we got together, we’ve been visiting his mom more,” you said. he cringed upon hearing you mutter that the two of you were together.

“the two of you....” he implied, “are together?” he asked. you nodded, “yep! we’ve been together for a few months now!” you looked at midoriya and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “i wonder how long that’ll last. not long considering he’s midoriya,” he joked to his friends.

your eyebrows fluttered in anger as midoriya whispered to calm down. you looked to your ex, “well, we should be leaving. we actually have to leave in a few hours to head back to UA. you know, the school you couldn’t get into,” you retorted, making midoriya laugh loudly.

your ex tried to say something back but before he could, you grabbed midoriya’s arm and ran in the opposite direction before your ex could follow you. the two of you ran for a little while longer before agreeing that you both had lost him.

“what an asshole, right?” you asked. midoriya agreed, grabbing your hand and kissing it, “serves him right. he’s always been so rude,” he replied, seeing his house coming into vision, “plus, i think my mom is going to find the story pretty funny.”

you rolled your eyes playfully as you tried not to think on the exchange with your ex any longer and trying to refocus on what midoriya was talking to you about before you ran into him.

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daddynegandesires · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets chapter 2

Summary: negans jealousy and temptation starts to escalate when he starts coming around trying to fit his way back into your life while also showing jack who the man of the house is but jack may also have secrets of his own no one knows about.

🛑Warning: fluff, major smut, saddness, jealousy, cheating,fighting 🛑

@jazzy1118

18+

Sitting on your bed with mascara tears streaming down your face holding onto old pictures of you,negan and ellie. Jack walks in and you quickly wipe your tears and shove the pictures under the pillow before he notices.

"Hey baby...whats wrong?" Jack slides in next to you

"Oh nothing haha" you sniffle and play it off all cool

"You looked beautiful lastnight...i realized i forgot to tell you" he said brushing a strand of hair behind your ear leaning in to kiss you softly. Jack resches inbetween your skirt automatically causing your legs to spread apart inviting him in. He reaches his other hand up your shirt grabbing your boob gently squeezing it in his hand you begin to quickly unbutton your blouse breathing heavier when the front door opens. You frantically pull your shirt back together terribly and tugging at your skirt when you exit the room to see negan and ellie standing in the living room.

" have you ever heard of calling or sending a text!!??" You cross your arms over your chest with a few buttons still loose allowing your black lace bra to peak out

"Well....looks like youve been busy" negan takes off his glasses sliding them ontop of his head

"I just thought id come by and cookout for ellie.." He grins pulling out steaks and ribs from a grocery bag.

"Oh! I brought wine too...your favorite"

"Cook out!?...wha" you followed behind him outside to the patio slamming the door behind you.

"So you think you can just walk into my house acting like you own the place saying you want to "cook out" for ellie!!??" By now you are almost inces away from him

Negan flicks on the grill and then grabs you gently by your face.

"I believe its my house too.....my name is also on the deed" he relases his hand and then walks past you back inside

You scoff to yourself as you stand there trying to process what is going on when jack comes outside.

"Im heading out for work...also whats up with him?"

"I..uh...he is cooking out for ellie i suppose" you said running your finger's through your messy hair

"I see.....well ill see you later, message me!" He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before hopping into his car and driving off. You sigh to yourself opening the door walking back into the kitchen seeing negan rubbing up the meat with spice's and ellie downing a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Negan! Seriously you gave her ice cream before dinner" you quickly took the spoon and bowl away from ellie before she could cram another spoonful in her mouth

"Whaaat let the kid live alittle...." He looks at ellie giving her a goofy face

You go over to dump out the ice cream in the trash can before dropping the dish in the sink next to negan you caught yourself looking at him his jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up exposing his toned arms and rough hands. His black glasses resting on his face and his perfect salt and pepper hair. You always have had a thing for men a bit older than you and negan fit that image perfectly...jack was much younger than negan which you never would of guessed going for a younger man would be good for you.

"Mommy!!"

"Huh..yes honey?" Causing you to snap out of your thought's

"Can daddy stay the night we can stay up and was scawry moviessszz!!?" Ellies face lit up with excitment

"Oh. Sweetie im sorry but daddy cant stay the night" bending down to her level caressing her cheek

"Uuuuggghhhhh!! No fair!!" Ellie screams at the top of her lungs and starts flailing her arms

"Ellie! Do not act like that towards your mother!" Negans deep strong voice boomed in the kitchen almost making you weak at your knees. Ellie ran off to her room and slammed the door.

"That sassy girl" negan said looking at you through the top of his glasses

"Thank you...." You sighed exhaustedly while popping the cork off of the wine bottle and filling your cup up

"Mmmm...." Swallowing the sweet red wine feeling it flow down your throat

"So....you and younger guys huh?" Negan chuckled while washing his hands

"Something new...nothing wrong with that" you said taking another sip of your wine

"thought you had a fetish for older men....whats it called? Daddy issues"

"I guess you could say that...." Pouring more wine into your glass

"Sure sure..." Negans voice died out as he walked off to the bathroom

Negan came back into the kitchen grabbing the tray of meat outside and slapping it on the grill. You followed behind him wine glass in hand.

"So...was it you that told ellie to ask me if you could stay the night?" Raising an eyebrow

"Shouldnt you go get another glass of wine" negan chuckles

"Ya know...your cooking was always the best" chugging down the rest of your glass

" i think the wine is starting to talk haha" negan closed the lid to the grill folding his arms over his chest

---------

I was cleaning up the mess in the kitchen while ellie and negan were snuggled up on the couch watching friday the 13th together. Hearing negan be playful and caring with ellie really makes your heart happy. A part of you wishes things could have been diffrent between the two of you that is your babygirls father of course you love the both of them but being with negan just isnt in your future right now.

"Mommy come in here!"

You finished putting dishes away when you walked in there and sat down by negan he kept looking over at you grinning while ellie jumped at the scary scenes with jason Voorhees.

"So...hows the team going?"

"Good...good the boys are a handful" negan chuckled

"You were always a great coach you really pushed those boys to do great things" giving him A sweet smile

Talking about school with negan was always a touchy topic. He runs a basketball team at the local highschool......thats also where he was cheating on me with one of the english teachers.

"She is out like a light... My sweet girl." Negan was running his fingers through ellies long red hair when he looked over at you realizing you had fell asleep on his shoulder too. Negan picked up ellie and took her to her bed and tucked her in when he came back you were slightly awake.

"Thank you..." You said tiredly

"For what baby..." He said in a low deep voice

"For dinner and taking ellie to bed...its hard doing it alone sometimes..." You began to feel really vulnerable and kinda felt unsettling with negan calling you baby

"Jack should be home soon he gets off late.." You raised up off the couch

"You want me to leave...." Negan asked with puppy dog eyes

"Negan....you have to go im sorry"

"Baby....you know i never meant to hurt you" negan pulled you back down to sit on the couch

"But you did.....what were you thinking....you ruined everything" you were a bit tipsy from the wine and your emotions were just flowing out of you

"I love you negan! And you threw it all away for some fucking teacher at your school!!" You began shoving him

"All you care about is yourself you are so fucking full of yourself...you think you are so fucking amazing!" Now gripping onto his shirt hitting him in the chest he quickly pulled you into a tight hug and you began crying uncontrollably onto his shoulder soaking his tshirt.

"Shhh....im here now i promise you i will do anything..i want to be back in ellies life full time again i miss my girls" negan started to get all choked up holding back tears

"I...i cant right now negan its too soon im still hurting so bad.....im trying to move on from this" wiping the tears away from your eyes

"I understand.....im never going to let you down again all i want is for you and ellie to have a good life even if im not in it"

He stood up pulling you with him he took you to the bedroom and layed you down in bed taking your shoes off for you and tucking you in before jack got back.

"Goodnight" he kisses you on the forehead and leaves

---------

You woke up to ellie jumping and screaming on your bed you looked over to see jack sleeping next to you rubbing at his eyes.

"Good morning beautiful" he leans over and kisses you

"Goodmorning" you chuckled

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" Ellie jumped onto you

"Hi sweetheart mommy sees you" you squeezed her tight in a hug before getting up out of bed

Jack had already gotten up and hopped into the shower when his phone began to ring on his bedside table you eagerly went over and looked at who it was. A girl named Melissa was calling him you just brushed it off and joined him in the shower.

"Hey...." Slipping off your panties and hopping into the shower with him

"Whoa...hey" jack said shocked

You grabbed him by the face and began kissing him hard feeling the hot water stream down your back. He moved his hand down between your legs taking one finger and slowly slipping it inside of you moaning out gripping onto his dick starting to slowly pump it back and forth feeling it grow long in your hand. Before you knew it he flipped you around ramming his cock into you pumping back and forth into your dripping wet pussy. His grip grew tighter on your hip as he started going faster and faster untill you felt an emptyness from him pulling out.

"Im hopping out im gonna let you finish up in here" he slapped your ass and then hopped out and closed the bathroom door behind him

"What a disappointment....." You whispered to yourself as you scrubbed shampoo through your hair knowing that negan would of never left you hanging like that and would of lasted way longer. Turning off the water you coulf faintly here jack laughing and talking to someone over the phone you quickly dried off and opened the bathroom door.

"Who are you speaking to?" You asked slipping on some clothes

"Ohh just a coworker nobody really" he said putting his phone into his pocket and sliding his tie on leaving the room

"Okay then....." You said to yourself

Slipping your shoes on you walked into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee before jack headed off to work. Jack seemed super eager to leave for work today you just brushed it off assuming it was going to be a busy day for him at the office. He kissed you goodbye and took ellie with him to drop her off at daycare. It was just you alone in the house today which meant housework....gross.

You tied your hair up in a bun and began gathering your cleaning supplies you connected your phone to the bluetooth speaker blasting old rock songs. You were down on your hands and knees scrubbing at the floor in your short shorts when you were greeted by two feet infront of your face. You slowly looked up at who it was and it was negan with a huge dirty smirk on his face.

"This all for me doll?" He bit at his lip

"Oh....uh i planned on cleaning house today while everyone was out" you said shyly not realizing you were still on your knees

"I like you down there...on your knees" he slwoly chuckles

"Oh! Sorry....you cant just keep letting yourself in negan..." You quicly shot up to your feet

"You need me to help with anything?" He walks into the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee

"Ugh....The grass needs mowed......" You answered while wiping down the living room table

" jack doesnt mow grass?" Negan began laughing

"Negan...dont" standing there with your hands on your hips you sprayed him with the water bottle

"Hey!.....im just saying i figured young business boys couldnt mow grass anyway" negan walked outside and started up the pushmower.

An half and hour has passed and you finally finished the housework inside. You peaked out the window to see negan finishing up yard work...his shirt was off and he was all sweaty then jack suddenly pulls up causing you to stop gawking at negan.

"You always mow peoples grass" jack called out to negan getting out of the car

"Well, today i do. And maybe even next time...your girlfriend asked me to" negans jaw begins to flex

"Oh really...well" jack rubs at the back of his neck annoyed

"Dont think for a second that you have this all figured out......just setting some ground rules" Negan leans in towards jack and sternly says

Jack glared at negan as he walked past him to go insdie the house.

"Hi sweetie!" You greeted jack with a peck on his cheeck before stepping outside to speak with negan.

"I think you need to go...." You softly said to him trying not to stare at his sweaty toned bare chest

"Cmom doll.....things were getting fun. Jack is really starting to take a liking to me" he chuckles sliding his tongue across his bottom lip

"Negan....this isnt a game" you said picking up the gardening tools and taking them to the garage

"But i like games....and i always win" negan said in his cocky voice following behind you

You slammed down the shovel on the work bench in the garage before you knew it negan flipped you around lifted you up and and sat you ontop of the bench crashing his lips into yours he slid in between your legs grabbing a fist full of your hair yanking your head back as he began biting at your neck.

"Negan...." You moaned softly

"God i miss you moaing my name..."

"N....negan stop" it was so hard to resist him

"I want to have another kid with you....i want to fill myself insdie of you.....please baby" he tugged at your hair harder causing you to moan louder

The hairs on the back of your neck shot up after hearing what he had just said to you. You wrapped your legs tight around his waist and pulled him into you kissing him roughly biting and tugging at his bottom lip. You couldnt control yourself your body was weak negan always knew the right things to say. Negan took his two fingers pulling your yoga shorts aside to his surprise you weren't wearing any panties his finger began to play with your now swollen sensitive clit causing you to whimper out. He sucked on his finger making it wet before bringing it back to your clit gently flicking it faster and faster.

"Negan...im gon-

"(Y/n)...are you in here" jack called out from around the corner of the garage

"Oh shit!" You whispered to yourself before hopping off the work bench approaching jack

"Hey...im going to be going out of town on a business trip soon"

"Oh....well how soon?" You asked curiously

"Like...tonight soon" he quickly stated

"Oh...i see" your voice lowered

"I have to go baby i will keep in touch with you!" He kissed you before slow jogging to his car and leaving

A part of you didnt feel good about jack leaving for a "business trip" if thats really what it was.....something seemed off with him like he was hiding something. You stood from the garage watching him drive down the road untill you couldnt see his car anymore.

"Business trip huh....." Negan questioned walking up beside you

"Yeah...i suppose so" you said zoning out

Negan begins to chuckle and walk past you to his car.

"Wait were are you going!?" You yelled out to him

"Have to go pick up our daughter from daycare" negan calls out from the driver side

"Wait up im coming with you!" Jogging up to his black 1969 camero and hopping in the passenger seat

-------------

You,ellie and negan were back at the house when you were in the bedroom freshening up when you noticed jack had left his laptop on the dresser. Curiously you walked over and popped it open the screen automatically came on to his emails the very top email read from Melissa.

Hey jack we have that meeting tonight dont forget!😊 im also wearing that little tight dress you love.

You read the message over and over again the words ringing in your head making you feel sick to your stomach you slammed the laptop shut your body shaking full of rage and a adrenaline not knowing what to think or how to feel anymore. You just lay back on your bed zoning out up at the ceiling.

The door to the bedroom opens and its negan with a dirty smirk on his face looking at you layed out on the bed you just want to forget everything you want to feel numb you want to be made to feel dirty...

"Hey..." His deep tone giving you goosebumps

"Fuck me.....i want you to fuck me like the slut i am" you sternly said to him

Negan swiftly ripped his shirt off and yanked down your shorts spreading your legs apart bringing his tongue to your pussy licking your sweet folds brining his tongue down to your opening and all the way back up to your clit teasing you. You begin to grind up against his face while he pumps his cock hearing him moan only made you even more wet. He pulls his mouth away and flips you over slapping you on the ass hard the sting of it felt amazing he spanks you agains and a again before he enters his tip inside of you. Gripping onto the the bedsheets you have almost forgotten how big his cock is streching you open to fit perfectly insdie of you.

"Oh fuck.....god its so tight! You dirty fucking whore" he grunts slowly sliding more of his cock into you pulling your head back by your hair

"I miss you....i want you to fuck me hard..." You begin to rub your clit

Negan starts pumping his cock in and out of you his cock slowly swelling up inside of you and you squeeze down on him feeling all it all. He begins to move faster and faster leaning his face down to yours grabbing onto your throat squeezing it to let you feel that perfect high.

"Fuck...i...i cant keep going much longer" he starts fucking you faster and faster

"I want you to cum in me....please..i want your cum inside of me"! You beg

He lets out a load moan as he finishes inside of you and kisses you hard on the lips before pulling out letting his cum pour out of you all over the bedsheets. Negan pulls up his jeans as he hands you a towel to clean yourself up. You havent felt that amazing in awhile so relaxed and burnt off some built up rage

"All you have to do is ask and im here...." He whispers to you before leaving the room to go check on ellie. You get up from the bed to go take a shower.

"What am i doing......." You say to yourself

"Im so fucking stupid...." You begin to cry and sit with your knees pulled up to your chest in the tub feeling like a peice of shit after what you had just done. You are playing with negans emotions and stabbing jack in the back...what kind of girlfriend and mother am i.

#negan x you #jdm #twd #jeffrey dean morgan #negan fanfic #negan x reader

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joshuas · 4 years ago

Text

facts

♫ pairing: hwang hyunjin x female reader

♫ genre: fluff, crack (seriously, do not question how i came up with this), domestic au, established relationship au

♫ warnings: mentions spiders, and mentions use of alcohol?

♫ word count: 1.5k

♫ prompt: “are you drunk?” “not nearly enough” from this prompt list !

♫ a/n: this was actually a request from @starteez and dedicated to her as a very very belated birthday present <33 hope you like it :)))

♫ summary: hyunjin gets super drunk and has a Crisis, meanwhile you just wanted to watch the latest episode of your favourite drama.

♫ tagging: @jadezircon @mostlikelynotmelissa and @potato2earth - let me know if you would like to be part of the tag list !

You sighed, settling into the couch, tub of ice cream, and tv remote in hand.

It was Friday night. Otherwise known as you and Hyunjin’s drama night, in which you’d watch the latest episode of the most recent drama the two of you were hooked on. However, today, Hyunjin had decided to go out for drinks with Felix, ditching you and your drama night. Initially, you were annoyed (not that he was hanging out with his friends but more so that he messed with your tradition), but you realised that you could just watch it without him. I mean... he was going out and having fun, who’s to say that you can’t do the same by chilling with your favourite characters and finding out about whatever dark secrets they had been just about to reveal in the previous episode. Okay... the latter of that was your main motivation for it. You’re not that lonely or sad.

Nodding resolutely, you scooped your ice cream, settling into the couch as the drama played, your attention fixated on the screen.

The sharp buzz of your phone startled you out of your immense concentration, the caller ID flashing to reveal your boyfriend, Hyunjin.

Your eyes widened in panic, your hands knocking the ice cream off of your lap as you reached around for the TV remote. The phone buzzed continuously, ringing as you fumbled around for the off button, leaving you breathless as you picked up the phone on the final ring,

“He—“

“Y/NNNN~” Hyunjin whined into the phone, his breathing heavy.

“Hyunjin? What’s wrong? Are you crying? ...Are you drunk?” You closed your eyes, only to open them again in confusion as you heard sniffling on the other end of the phone.

“Not nearly e-enough! I-I don’t w-want to be e-eaten.” He sobbed into the phone.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion,

“What?” Your tone coming out sharper than expected, eliciting more sobs from Hyunjin.

“F-felix w-was telling me about how f-female s-spiders e-eat their m-mates, and now I’m scared and I’m n-never coming h-home because y-you’re going to e-eat me.” Hyunjin breathed, between sobs.

...What?

“Excuse me? Why would I eat you. Felix was talking about spiders.” You said, slightly offended by his drunk comparisons.

He breathed deeply,

“Y-you know how the other day we were watching a Marvel movie and y-you k-know what you s-said? You said that the c-character you r-relate with t-the m-most with is Black Widow!” He exclaimed, almost hysterical.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, as he spoke incoherently at the phone, sobs heaving out of him as if he had just witnessed something deeply distressing. Well... what his drunk mind was picturing was slightly distressing, so it made sense.

“Well yes, because she’s a strong, independent female lead. Anyway, you’re too drunk to understand any of that. Hyunjin. Where are you?”

“I’m not telling you! Y-you can’t come to Felix’s house!” Hyunjin attempted to ward you off before realising his mistake a second later. “FELIX! Y/N’s COMING! She’s going to eat us—“

You hung up on him, grabbing your keys and heading out the door... ignoring the melting ice cream on the floor.

As soon as you reached Felix’s apartment you flung the door wide open, apologising profusely as a wincing Felix came out from behind, guiding you to your extremely drunk boyfriend.

Not noticing your entrance, Hyunjin had positioned himself quite... oddly, so that his head was on the rug on the floor but his legs were on the couch, a hand flung dramatically on his forehead, and another hand on the floor, not too dissimilar to someone doing a one-handed snow angel.

He looks like a four-year-old...

You cleared your throat behind him, approaching him tentatively. Whipping around, his eyes widened when they landed on you, panic flashing through them as he scrambled to sit upright.

“What are you doing here?” His words, although slightly slurred, still portrayed fear that was not well-founded at all. How his drunken state got to thinking you were a spider was beyond you, but then again, he was drinking with Felix, so who knows what went down there.

“I came to pick you up since you’re um. Drunk.” You raised your eyebrows, stating the obvious.

“No! You’re not allowed to take me back to your web.” He stumbled forward, couch cushion in hand in an attempt to ward you off.

Web? Oh my god...

“Can you— ugh. I’m not a spider! I’m not going to eat you! You’re my boyfriend, for God’s sake, and I love you, and I’m not a cannibal. Besides, you wouldn’t be very delicious, you’re mostly just muscle.” You sighed, raising your arms in frustration and defeat.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in offence, placing a hand on his chest and stepping back, tears started to well in his eyes.

“I— oh no. What? Why are you crying again?” You panicked, settling him on the couch, rubbing his back soothingly as you mentally cursed his current over sensitive state.

“Y-you really t-think I w-wouldn’t be d-delicious?” He sobbed louder into your shoulder, as you rubbed soothing patterns on his back.

You rolled your eyes,

He’s so drunk.

“This conversation is so concerning, and one that I want to discontinue at all costs. I'm not a spider, and I'm not going to eat you. I don't want to comment on... that.” You deadpanned.

“How did you guys even get this drunk?” You glanced between Hyunjin and Felix who had emerged from the kitchen, ice pack on his slightly bruised face.

“It was all him. I asked him if he wanted to come over and watch the latest episode of this drama we’re both really into. He started drinking as soon as we started watching because he didn’t want to remember any of it so that when he watches it with you his reactions are genuine. Eventually, he got too drunk to even sit still, so we turned it off and started talking about stuff.” Felix shrugged.

“...and you somehow got to talking about spiders?” You asked, unimpressed.

“We were baking because he wanted to make you cookies, since he felt guilty...for basically watching nothing. I guess he still felt guilty for the action. Anyway, he freaked out after seeing a spider. Hyunjin, plus being drunk and his usual dramatic self is not fun. Especially when spiders are involved. I told him that fact because it was at the top of my head and he gave up on the cookies and started freaking out about you. Speaking of the cookies, I should probably check on them. You need to take this home before the rest of the guys come here if you want to have any of it.” He headed to the kitchen, leaving you and Hyunjin alone in the living room.

“Hyunjin, why didn’t you just stay home if you were just going to watch the drama? You know that today is drama night.” You crossed your arms, directing your attention once again to your sniffling boyfriend.

“I didn’t want to cry in front of youuu,” he sobbed. “I didn’t know what was going to happen next and I thought they might break up and I just...” he trailed off.

“You know that makes no sense right? You’re literally sobbing in front of me now. Also, you’re my boyfriend, I’m supposed to be there for you, tears and all. Besides, we’ll probably both be sobbing if the main characters broke up. We’ve shipped them too much for that to not be devastating.“ You said resolutely, your gaze softening as you looked at him, snuggling closer to you.

“I knowww.”

“Come on, let’s go home. There’s a tub of ice cream waiting for the both of us.”

Your drama night was postponed to Saturday seeing as soon as the two of you arrived at your apartment, Hyunjin collapsed and fell into a deep sleep on the couch... and your ice cream was on the floor, melted and no longer edible.

Leading you to Saturday night, where you and Hyunjin were snuggled together on the couch, wrapped in a blanket burrito, eating the cookies he baked yesterday, alongside a new tub of ice cream, whilst bawling your eyes out.

“I told you,” he sniffed “I knew this would happen.”

Your tear-filled eyes blurred your vision as you tried to focus on the crying characters on the screen, reaching for another tissue,

“I know, but it’s not as bad when we’re watching it together, and besides, these cookies are incredible with ice cream.” You snuggled into him and gave him a watery smile.

“Hey, as long as you’re not a spider and about to eat me, I’m all for our drama nights and cuddles,” Hyunjin smirked.

You pushed him lightly,

“Oh my god... how do you even remember any of the stuff you said? You were ridiculous.”

“I don’t know but the fact still holds.”

“It’s not even a fact! I'm human!”

💫 masterlist !

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wingsofanillyrian · 4 years ago

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Lights Over Monaco: Chapter 1

ITS HERE! I plan on updating this weekly/biweekly, based on how busy I am. Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

Special thank you to my new F1 friend for inspiring this fic as well as being my beta reader, @acourtofcouture ! F1 fans out there, her fics are AMAZING

Chapter Masterlist

F1 Glossary

----------------

Nesta Archeron discovered Formula 1 when she was 9 years old. She woke before the sun one Sunday morning, quietly excited to have the television all to herself and watch whatever cartoons she wanted. But she couldn’t remember what channel they were on, instead flipping through the programs. She had almost given up when she stumbled across a race.

The moment she had seen the brightly colored open-wheeled cars flash across the screen, she paused. For whatever reason, the high pitched wasp-like scream of the twelve cylinder engines and the astonishing speed that the drivers were travelling enthralled young Nesta. She didn’t look away once for the rest of the race, or even for the post-race interviews and wrap up that most adults skipped. Something about it had her adrenaline pumping.

Nesta traded her dolls for matchbox cars, and when she grew older, picked up racing magazines instead of teen ones. Ever since that day, Formula 1 consumed her. No matter how the other kids or her two younger sisters teased her for it, her love for the sport never tarnished.

She spent years getting up at 2 am to watch live races that were being held halfway around the world. Instead of going to her senior prom, Nesta stayed home and layed out her predictions for the season’s drivers and constructors championships. She didn’t know how to do anything half-ass. She poured her whole heart into the sport and devoted her life to it.

**********

Nesta spent her 24th birthday working. It wasn’t like she could request the day off, not that it mattered. The racetrack at Monaco was exactly where she would have been anyway, working or not.

A press pass got her through the first security checkpoint. The team tents loomed ahead as she waited for personnel to cross the unstriped asphalt, inching her car carefully through the throngs of people. She rolled her window down, soaking in the sound of air tools and snippets of conversations.

Street tracks like Monaco were her favorite. They required drivers to push themselves with plenty of technical corners and dramatic incidents. There was less room for error, as the tracks themselves were not as wide. Drivers had to know their limits and follow the racing line closely.

Race tracks were Nesta’s comfort zone. She knew each track on the calendar like the back of her hand. Every turn was permanently etched in her mind like words on a tombstone. Race weekends followed a set schedule, something that she could appreciate. Friday: practice laps. Saturday: more practice, followed by qualifying, where each driver got the chance to set the fastest lap and secure a spot in the starting line up for the main event on Sunday.

Before she had graduated college, Nesta had managed to fully entrench herself in the world of Formula 1. Securing an internship at ESPN her sophomore year, she had made herself indispensable to the crusty old man that had been the senior track side reporter for decades. She studied everything he did and the questions he asked each driver, noting what changes she would have made. Somehow, he came to admire her spirit and taught her the tricks of the trade.

When he retired the year after Nesta graduated, he went to the board of directors and personally recommended her to fill his spot. She waited two agonizing days for their decision.

Using whatever means necessary, Nesta had clawed her way to the top and cemented her reputation as the most cutthroat reporter in the industry. Her goal had been for everyone in motorsport to know her name, and in only two years, she had done so. Better yet, she had caught the eye of one of the fastest drivers on the grid.

Her phone rang just as she pulled into the press parking area. She answered, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

Tomas’ velvety voice thundered through the speakers of her Civic. “Hey baby. You here yet?”

“Just pulled in,” She replied, touching up her makeup in the rearview.

“Right on time for a quickie. Meet me at my trailer in five.”

Tomas had already hung up before she had the chance to protest. Both their reputations hinged on their relationship staying secret. If the press caught wind that she was fucking a driver, her credibility would go out the window, and Tomas would be the laughing stock of the grid. So sneaking into his trailer wasn’t exactly the type of discreet she was aiming for.

Tomas Mandray had been racing for Red Bull for two years when she had scored her first exclusive interview with him. He had just been awarded pole position at the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, and Nesta had sweet talked her way into the paddock. It had taken minutes for his charming blue eyes to enchant her. He had won that race, and taken her to bed straight after.

The sex was great, but that’s all it ever was. Their relationship was purely based on the physical; nothing emotional on either end. They had agreed on that from the start. Just sex.

Unfortunately for Nesta, somewhere along the way it had become something more.

Sighing, she put on her oversized sunglasses and hid her tawny hair under a gauzy scarf. The fashion wouldn’t stand out at all amongst the celebrities that frequented the Monaco Grand Prix. Going over the top here was expected; Monaco was known for its money. Due to the lack of income tax, Monaco was a haven for white collar delinquents and royalty alike. Lamborghini’s and Ferrari’s were commonplace, and women wore rings that could set a jewel thief up for life.

No one bothered her as she strode towards the pit checkpoint, flashing her press badge to get by. She fell into her usual cadence, exuding an air of importance and invincibility. Seemingly without realizing, people moved out of her way when they saw her coming. The navy, red, and yellow of the Redbull tent came into view, and Nesta inserted herself into the crowd of mechanics and VIPs to get past security. Press wasn’t allowed in the area until after the race.

Nesta broke away once inside, heading down a back corridor. She knew the layout by heart, having walked the path many times. The door at the end of the hall led outside to Tomas’ private trailer. She didn’t bother to knock before entering. Tomas would already be waiting for her.

He set down his phone as she entered. “Finally,” He said with a savage grin. “We only have a few minutes.”

****************

Tomas left as soon as he finished, donning his jumpsuit without so much as a kiss goodbye. Utterly used to the behavior, Nesta straightened her clothes and again touched up her makeup before heading back out.

She was scheduled to conduct a pre-race interview with Cassian Valle in the Mercedes tent in twenty minutes. Redbull and Mercedes were at opposite ends of the pit, giving her plenty of time to think.

Truthfully, Nesta was dreading the interaction. Cassian was an arrogant ass. She couldn’t stand interviewing him; all he did was skirt around questions and try to flirt, which made it incredibly difficult to get any headline-worthy tidbits from him.

Azriel Sainz, Cassian’s teammate at Mercedes, was much more amiable. He was mostly forgettable and quiet, but always gave her something to work with and was sometimes downright pleasant to talk to. She could understand why the public loved him, but not why they were so enamored with Cassian. Sure, he was a three time world champion, and that earned him plenty of fans, but he was just so… dreadful.

She made it to the Mercedes pit just minutes before the scheduled time, immediately spotting her tense cameraman, Jacob. Slim built, he was average looking, nothing special. He was sweet though, if not a bit of a pushover.

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed, chocolate brown eyes wide. “Valle is waiting.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, handing Jacob her sunglasses and the scarf. “I’m here now, aren’t I? Not my fault if he was early.” Nesta accepted her microphone and rolled her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with then.”

“Happy birthday by the way,” Jacob added. Yes, there was the pushover side shining through.

Nesta threw a grin at him over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

Cassian’s back was to her as she approached, his white Mercedes jumpsuit half on, the arms of it cinched around his waist. The crisp gray shirt he wore left little to the imagination, hugging his sculpted form. Good; at least that would capture the attention of any women that might be watching. As would the deep brown curl that fell in his face when he turned to her.

“If it isn’t my very favorite reporter,” He crooned, a grin plastered on his face. “Took you long enough to get here. I also hear it’s your birthday.” Nesta glared at Jacob. He shrank under her steely look, an apology stumbling from his lips.

“I would give you a birthday kiss, but I think you’d knock me out if I offered.”

Nesta pointedly ignored him, “Let’s just get on with it,” She said, motioning to Jacob to start recording. Once he signaled he was ready, Nesta breathed deep, the sweet scent of high octane fuel assaulting her senses. It steadied her, and she slipped into her professional mask before turning to the camera.

“As we all know, the Monaco Grand Prix offers drivers a unique set of challenges. The two-mile street course has 19 technical corners with little room for error. It is in Monaco that we get to see who has what it takes to be a Formula 1 champion.” She turned to Cassian, gave him a professional smile and continued.

“Last year, you had a puncture at turn seven when you ran over some debris. Coupled with the fumble the pit crew had with not having your tires ready when you came into the pit, you finished a disappointing 12th place, winning you no points in the driver’s championship. Do you expect that this year will be better, or will you stick to your usual aggressive driving style?”

Cassian laughed, running a hand through his unbound curls. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be changing anything. You can expect to see me on the podium, sweetheart. Most likely in first.”

Nesta grit her teeth. She couldn’t air that, and he knew it. “How about you answer the question without trying to piss me off?”

“It’s too easy,” Cassian said, that devilish grin returning. Nesta cut him a glare that simmered with violence. “Alright fine,” He relented, putting his hands up. “Go again.”

She repeated her question, and this time he answered, “I don’t really see any need to change my driving style, what happened last year was a fluke. I went wide on the turn and didn’t notice Vanserra's front wing until the last second and wasn’t able to change course.” Nesta nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I don't see myself making any mistakes like that this year. You can expect to see me on the podium, most likely in first.”

“Thank you for that Cassian. Good luck on the track today.”

“Thank you,” He said, waving at the camera. He paused before adding, “Though I won’t need luck.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and signaled for Jacob to cut the recording. At least that last bit could be edited out. “You are absolutely insufferable, you know that?”

Cassian shrugged, undoing the arms of his fire suit and slipping into them. “I do my best.” He winked at her before zipping up his suit, opening his mouth to say something else when the Mercedes team principal, Rhysand, barked at him to get his ass in gear. He gave Nesta a wordless salute before jogging off.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jacob said, packing up his camera. “That guy has balls.”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver,” Nesta said simply, putting her sunglasses back on. “Of course he does.”

**********

Nesta watched the 78 lap race from the press box, silently cheering Tomas on. Each time the pack of cars passed, the windows rattled, doing little to muffle the engine noise. She chatted with the others as necessary, keeping one eye on the tarmac below. Tomas had started from pole position, and held onto first place until the final 10 laps. He had attempted to lap an AlphaTauri driver when the driver had failed to yield, violating FIA regulations. The two had bumped tires in what was ruled a racing incident, but Nesta knew better. Tomas had lost his cool and nudged the other driver on purpose, nearly sending him into the wall.

It was a bad call on Tomas’ part, as the comfortable four second lead he had held over second place shattered. Nesta swore under her breath as Cassian overtook Tomas, her heart dropping when the other Mercedes driver, Azriel, did the same. Tomas would not be happy about that.

When the checkered flag waved, Cassian was first, Azriel second, and Tomas third. The winners parked before the podium, anger radiating from Tomas as he tore his helmet off. Tamlin, the Redbull team principal, said something to Tomas that had his cheeks burning red.

Nesta grabbed Jacob and headed for the press room. They had a half hour tops before the post-race interviews started, and Nesta had to make sure she was front row. Though it didn’t matter where she sat; she always made sure her questions were answered.

It was more so for Tomas. She wanted him to see her, to see the understanding on her face and know she supported him even when he didn't win.

They were first to the press room, and Nesta had ample time to prepare questions. She couldn’t question Tomas, or she risked uncapping his rage. Instead, she jotted down a question she knew would shift the focus from Tomas to the Mercedes drivers.

Reporters began filing in, vying for the perfect spot and debating the race results with one another. Nesta remained in her seat, determined to maintain her composure as her stomach churned. Tomas finally entered, jaw set as he took his place on the stage. Nesta tried to subtly catch his eye, but he pointedly avoided looking at her.

Cassian and Azriel entered, laughing and congratulating each other. Nesta noted the slight change in Tomas’ posture, the only hint of the blood boiling beneath his skin. Cameras flashed, reporters shouted, but still Nesta remained seated. Cassian, at least, sought her out in the crowd, and flashed her an ‘I-told-you-so’ grin when he found her. Once the clamor had died down, Nesta stood. The room quieted further, the others having learned not to talk over her if they valued their jobs. Nesta had a knack for digging up dirt on anyone she pleased.

Her eyes were still locked on Cassian as the moderator indicated she could ask her question.

“Azriel,” She started, turning to the dark haired man, “You were lucky you were able to take second in this race, after the incident in turn twelve on lap 27 when you sustained heavy damage to your front wing, thanks to the actions of your teammate. Does it ever get under your skin that Valle’s overly-aggressive driving threatens your own position in the championship?”

The room was silent. Tomas hid his grin behind a well-manicured hand. Cassian’s eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw fluttering. Good; she had hit a nerve. Azriel shrugged, crossing his arms.

“It was a racing incident. Could have happened to anyone. I don’t think the blame lays entirely with Cassian; I could have given him more room on the corner.”

And that was that. Nesta didn’t ask any more questions, but she could feel Cassian glaring at her throughout. At the end of the interview, all three drivers thanked everyone before leaving.

As Nesta made her way back to her car, she texted Tomas.

You okay?

Her heart pounded as she waited for the reply. Her phone buzzed minutes later.

I’ll be home late. Party at the Redbull house.

Oh. Okay. See you later then.

“Happy birthday to me,” She muttered, stuffing the phone in her pocket.

Nesta wasn’t sure why his reply stung, but it cut deep. She had hoped that he would want to see her instead of going to another party and spend time with her on her birthday. Instead, he would probably stick his tongue down another woman’s throat like usual. She couldn’t really blame him. Their relationship had to remain secret and to do so, Tomas had to maintain his playboy aura. It wasn’t really cheating if she had agreed to it.

But if that were true, why did it hurt so fucking bad when he did?

Some of her tension eased when she finally spied her car in the lot. The Blue Bullet, she had nicknamed it, due to the strikingly bright paint. It was the first purchase she had made upon being promoted, and it had since become her pride and joy. She had chosen it because it set lap records left and right when it had hit the market a few years back, and she had craved speed her whole life. On city streets, this car was the closest she could get to experiencing Formula 1 without completely breaking the bank.

“How about you don’t ask stupid fucking questions next time your prettyboy loses?”

Nesta’s breath hitched. Your prettyboy. The accusation was clear. Her hand slipped from the door handle, turning towards the voice. If he knew… If he knew about her and Tomas, they were done for. She willed her voice into solid steel.

“Cassian. I would advise you to choose your next words wisely.”

He placed a hand on her Civic, getting in her face. “Racing means you have racing incidents. I don’t expect you to understand, seeing as you’ve never been behind the wheel of a real race car.” He sneered at her car, the insult striking home.

Fear faded, replaced by a rising wave of scarlett rage. Nesta’s gaze stuck to where his hand lay on the bright blue paint, utterly vexed by the infringement. She bared her teeth at him, rising to the challenge in Cassian’s flaming hazel eyes.

“Get. Off.”

Cassian started at the command in her tone and obeyed. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Understanding the nuances of Formula 1 is my job description. I asked about that incident because I knew it would piss you off. Looks like I was right huh?” Her temper was getting the better of her. “And by the way, would it kill you to give me a decent quote once in a while, instead of always trying to get in my pants?”

“I do not-”

“Oh go fuck yourself,” Nesta scoffed, yanking the door open.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward as she slammed the car door. “I was already planning on it.”

Those parting words haunted her drive home, even as she took the long way in hopes of blowing off steam. She shifted through the gears, throwing the Civic around corners much faster than was probably safe. Nesta didn’t care; her head was a mess. At least he hadn’t mentioned anything more about Tomas. Maybe Cassian had just thought she had a crush, based on the way she had been looking at him during the conference. Gods, she couldn’t get Cassian out of her head.

His grin followed her up the stairs to her apartment, where she snapped the curtains shut. She couldn’t bear to look out over the track any longer today.

Those words echoed in her head as she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed alone. Swam through her thoughts of Tomas, as she struggled to keep her eyes open when the clock showed 1 am. As she finally gave in, they were her last thought.

I was already planning on it.

@aphoeni @planet-faerie @nina-zcnik @linsimin @that-little-red-head @teagoddess99 @enpointe10 @electronicstrawberrystrawberry @awesomelena555 @iptneus @weesablackbeak @wonderland--memories @nessian-trash-heap @magicalwaterfall @perfectlyimpxrfect @cassians-wings @valkyrie-archeron @acourtofcouture @nesemryn @chloepereyra @illyrianshadowhunter

#Lights over monaco #nessian #nessian au #nessian fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #acotar fanfiction #my writing #nesta archeron #cassian #lucien vanserra

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parvuls · 4 years ago

Text

fic: kintsugi

summary: The day after brunch at Jerry's, Jack and Shitty have a raw, much-needed conversation over the phone. Some issues need to be addressed before they can head down the road to patching things up.

word count: 6k

tags: year 3, post-comic 3.12, phone calls, friendship, canon compliant, apologies, introspection

notes: based on the prompt ‘providence + family’ by @atlasthemayor.

read on ao3

Jack’s stomach churns strangely when he sees Shitty’s name flash on his caller ID.

It’s a disconcerting feeling, a slight jolt and twinge in his gut, both reminiscent of when anxiety coils low inside him and distinctive in some way. It makes Jack frown and set his heated dinner aside on the coffee table with the hand not holding the buzzing phone. He’s not sure he ever had this foreign reaction to Shitty calling him before, so after a brief moment of puzzlement he decides to write it off as a side effect of the exhaustion weighing him down.

The phone vibrates once more in his palm before Jack slides his thumb across the screen to accept the call. “Hey, man,” he greets, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder so he can pick his food up again. Shitty won’t mind the sound of his chewing, probably. “Staying up late to study?”

It’s coming up to half past eleven on Saturday night. Jack dragged himself through the front door and into the dark apartment at around ten forty-five, his muscles sore and his body beat from over twenty minutes of ice time. He dumped his gear bag in the entryway next to his shoes and headed straight into the kitchen without flicking any of the lights on, shoved one of his frozen meal plan boxes of grilled chicken and brown rice into the microwave without pausing.

The yellow glow of the microwave was the sole source of light in the room as Jack strapped an ice pack to his shoulder, still aching from Ericsson’s high-stick, stuck Bitty’s handwritten PB&J note on the fridge, and waited. The only thing he really wanted to do was fall face-first into his bed, text Bitty that he was home, maybe break down the game over the phone if Bitty wasn’t too busy -- but his regimen had taken precedence. He knew he needed to put in some calories and take care of his pain if he wanted to get up for his six a.m. run. By the time his phone started ringing, Jack was mechanically chewing on his food in the living room. His couch was more comfortable than a dining chair, plush upholstery engulfing his tired limbs, and it only distantly occurred to him that there was something sad about eating dinner alone in the dark.

Shitty’s call, when it came, was unexpected.

“Hate to tell you this, but eleven thirty is not late," Shitty replies, the familiar timbre of his voice tinny due to cell reception. It's an effect Jack is closely acquainted with after months of daily phone calls with Bitty, so he knows that's not all there is to it when he notices something else amiss about Shitty’s voice; like the rhythm of his speech is slightly off. He registers it as abnormal, but before he can figure out if he wants to ask about it Shitty carries on talking. “How’s everything going for ya?”

“Okay,” Jack answers plainly, piling rice onto his fork. He doesn't have the energy to think of anything more gripping than the truth. “Eating post-game dinner.”

Shitty pauses on the other side of the line, makes the creases in Jack’s forehead deepen. Something feels weird, but Jack doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it if nothing is really wrong. Sometimes people act in ways that confuse him for any number of reasons, and he’s not always good at telling them apart.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” Shitty says, clearing his throat quietly. “The Red Wings. Great game, brah. Your shoulder doin’ okay?”

Jack’s mouth slows down his chewing on instinct, and he swallows the rice with difficulty. Shitty never just tells Jack great game. Shitty talks about hockey like he’s the narrator in a porn film, with an enthusiasm unmatched by anyone Jack has ever met. Shitty once sang Jack’s praises for half an hour after a game against UND in which Samwell lost 2-0. That, combined with his tone -- something isn’t quite right, Jack thinks. He's more confident in that observation now, but his brain feels slower than usual and he’s too tired to connect any dots.

“Euh, yeah. I’ll be alright. Really have to shake it off and make sure I’m all there on Monday night, eh? We’ve had a good streak, but it’s always about how we play the next game. We’re getting better as a group.”

Jack’s tongue slips into hockey speak naturally before he can do anything to stop it, but instead of chirp him, Shitty makes a vague, throaty noise and doesn’t comment. “Yeah, I get what you mean. You and Mashkov really seem to hit it off out there, heh. Uh, listen -- I know you had to drive back for your practice, but. We didn’t really get the chance to talk much yesterday, and I guess…” Shitty pauses again, and Jack lowers the box to rest against his knee, apprehensive. “Well. D’ya have a moment? Because I’d really fuckin’ like to apologize for some shit.”

Jack’s hand clenches convulsively around his fork, a piece of chicken breast sliding off the tines and falling back into the box with a dull noise.

The early morning and then noon hours of Friday were an emotional blur. From the anxiety spike when Jack stepped off the plane to the car ride on the flooded highway; from the sleep-deprived, tearful conversation in Bitty's narrow bed to the cathartic brunch at Jerry’s with their friends. Jack drove straight home after his nap and stepped out of the car back in Providence to find his phone overflowing with chirping text messages. The chirps haven’t really died down over the weekend, but Jack doesn’t mind them, and he doesn’t think Bitty does either; it feels good to have a subject that’s been burdening them both treated lightheartedly. Trusting their friends with this secret isn't as heavy on Jack's shoulder as he feared it might be.

Shitty is the only one who hasn’t written much in the group chat. He and Jack talked briefly on the lawn outside the Haus after the six of them had returned from brunch, and then they resorted to roughhousing when the mood got too somber. Jack hoped that it’d be enough to put everything behind them, but if he pushes himself to think it through, a part of him has known that this conversation was coming. It wasn’t like Shitty to let things go so easily.

Jack's glad that Shitty can't see his face right now, because he can feel himself grimacing. He hopes his brief silence hasn’t been too revealing. “Shits -- it’s cool, yeah? We’re cool.”

“I don’t think we are, actually,” Shitty argues. His voice is growing strained. “You don’t have to talk, even --”

“C’mon, man, there’s really not much to say. Everything is good now --”

“Jack,” Shitty cuts him off, and the tone of his voice shuts Jack right up. Shitty can get wrapped up in things, can lose himself in long tirades about rights and wrongs and justice, but this tone sounds different than it has through the hundreds of rants Jack has been witness to. Shitty sounds dead serious. Jack blinks, and realizes: this isn’t Shitty being his normal self. He’s genuinely torn up about this. “Just -- will ya let me…? Please.”

“I…” Jack starts, but he doesn’t really know what he wants to say. He’s never been skilled at these kinds of conversations, and the odd feeling he got when he saw Shitty’s name on his screen squeezes even tighter than before, making him feel slightly nauseated.

“It’s -- I --. Jack, what I said in front of everyone during the home opening kegster… and all the other times I... That was some fucked up shit. I fucked up real bad, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jack tries again, but this time the words feel so wrong in his mouth that he has difficulty shaping his tongue around them. It tastes like an outright lie, although he wasn’t aware he was even lying at all.

Jack hadn’t recognized the churning in his gut until now, but Shitty’s steadfast apology intensifies the feeling and dredges up what Jack has clearly failed to notice. He wants to tell Shitty that there’s no need to apologize, but apparently that’s just not true; it’s only now that he realizes the sharp response he had to Shitty’s call is bitterness. Jack’s feelings actually were hurt by Shitty. Maybe he should be startled by discovering wounded feelings he wasn’t cognizant of for over a month, but if this past summer has taught Jack anything, it’s that sometimes he manages to overlook the most substantial of things.

“-- and it’s not enough to be chill about it now,” Jack blinks out of his thoughts and tunes back into Shitty’s distressed train of words, coming chopped and fast through the ear speaker. “I should’ve -- before, too, I should’ve created a safe enough fuckin’ environment --”

“You were always talking to us about creating safe environments, Shitty,” Jack interrupts him. His voice sounds hollow to his own ears, and he puts his fork in the box and the box back on the coffee table to free his hands. He’s still making sense of his own mental state, and he knows that whatever is going to come stumbling out of his mouth will be barely coherent at best. “It’s not -- it was just that -- you’re always saying it’s important, and then, câlice… It was hard enough, hiding, and then with you as well --.”

Everyone was allowed to be queer, for Shitty. Jack remembers how in sophomore year Shitty marched into the Haus, ecstatic about the five different people who had come out to him that same week, babbling about how great it was and how different Samwell was to Andover. He mentioned sexuality labels Jack had never even heard of, had accepted so effortlessly those borderline strangers who had trusted him with their identities. Shitty has always been the most open-minded person Jack knows, the one to talk endlessly about the inherent toxicity of heteronormativity and to lecture the team about never labeling others without their consent.

Jack’s not always good at pinpointing the root of his own feelings, but the moment he thinks of that thrilled look on Shitty’s face almost three years before, he knows, like a lightbulb going off, why he was hurt. Because it seemed like everyone was allowed to be queer, for Shitty -- except Jack. Like Jack wasn’t queer enough to warrant the same respectful treatment. Like he wasn’t really allowed to be queer at all. Jack had never felt particularly close to his sexuality, but when even Shitty assumed so assuredly that he couldn’t be anything but straight, it stung. He just hasn’t registered it until now.

There’s a split second of tense silence, and then Shitty says, “I didn’t even know you were having a hard time, brah,” the pace of his speech slowed down.

Jack’s eyebrows draw together. His right hand, absentmindedly, pinches the fabric of his suit pants and rubs the smooth texture between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t -- what does that mean? It’s not like you asked.”

Shitty’s breath comes out in a harsh exhale, crackles in Jack’s ears. Jack can hear springs squeaking and sheets ruffling, the sounds of Shitty dropping heavily onto his bed. “Brah. How was I supposed to ask? You never pick up the damn phone anymore. Shit, man, I know fuck all about your life lately."

The fabric of Jack’s pants stretches in the tight grip of his fingers as he blinks, takes in Shitty’s accusation, and realizes he’s right all in the space of two and a half seconds. He can recall a few missed calls that he never got around to returning, but it didn’t seem so important at the time. He was, and still is, in the midst of his first NHL season, trying so hard not to get so lost in hockey and his own worries that he drowns in it and forgets to be a good boyfriend to Bitty.

It never occurred to him that he was investing so much effort into being a good boyfriend to Bitty that he wound up forgetting to be a good friend to everyone else. He knew Shitty and he weren’t talking as often, that things between them haven’t been great lately, but the truth is he had so many other things to worry about that he let it drift to the margins of his mind.

Jack lets go of his pants, rubs his palm down his thigh to smooth the creases away. His momentary bout of anger deserts him with the release of a slow, purposeful exhale. "You’re right. I’m sorry."

"No, no, shit,” Shitty says immediately, switching back from resigned to guilt-ridden in the matter of nanoseconds. “Don’t -- damn it, don’t apologize, oh shit, I’m victim blaming aren’t I, I totally didn’t mean to put this on you --"

"Shitty --"

There’s the sound of bed springs creaking again and then loud footsteps hitting a floor, which Jack assumes are the background sounds of Shitty rushing up from his bed to pace the length of his room. He’s seen Shitty do it across his small room in the Haus countless times, and it feels strange now, having it happen forty miles away. "It’s just, you know, I tried and you didn’t pick up and I get it, fuck do I get it, remember how in freshman year you forgot to talk to anyone for like a week during the preseason stress?"

Jack cracks a tiny, shaky smile that he knows won’t make it into his voice. His first few months at Samwell were a horrible time, fraught with loneliness and frequent panic attacks, too absorbed in thoughts of the path he was supposed to take to function in the path he ended up taking. His therapist helped with that, later, but before that there was Shitty. Determined to be Jack’s friend for no good reason at all. "Yeah. And you broke into my dorm room to make sure I wasn’t dead."

"So it wasn’t like I was offended you didn’t pick up or some bull,” Shitty hurries to finish, “I know you, I get it --"

But that’s wrong, Jack thinks, frowning deeply. Surely, Shitty must know that. "Shitty."

"What? No, seriously. It’s not the first time it happened, and with the pressure of playing in the league and all, I totally get it -- it’s just --"

"You’re allowed to be offended, Shits." Jack says quietly. His hand reaches up to curl around the phone and tug it away from the crook of his shoulder, but his muscles remain tense even when his shoulder drops down. His other hand is still fisted on top of his thigh and the purple shadows cast by the faint stars outside the windows heighten the grooves of his veins. "I know I -- I know it can get difficult -- with me --"

"No," Shitty interrupts, sounding even more emotional than before, a penitent snowball that keeps on rolling down the hill. Shitty’s capable of rolling on forever, if he thinks something is truly wrong. "No no no, Jack, I didn’t mean --"

"Shut up, Shitty." Jack says firmly. He preserves, reminding himself forcefully that the sentiment he wants to establish is too important to be derailed by Shitty’s atonement. His hands have begun to shake slightly, but he needs to get it out. "I know I’m worthy of love and friendship and all the crap you were about to say. I’m just saying --. You’re allowed to be hurt even if it isn’t new behavior. Just because I -- my anxiety -- y’know. If it hurts you, you’re allowed to be hurt."

The other side of the line goes quiet for a long moment, not even the sound of breathing coming through. Jack closes his eyes, counts to ten, tells himself that it’s Shitty and that the two of them are going to figure it out. Fighting with Shitty has always been mentally hard on Jack, has always felt like shaking the only foundation Jack had to stand on. It didn’t happen often, but Jack tries to remind himself that whenever it did they always came out intact on the other side. Arguing was a healthy way to understand your needs and the needs of the other person, his therapist told him.

When Shitty speaks, he sounds awed. "Christ on a cracker, man. That was fuckin’ wise. That Bits’ influence on you?"

Jack pauses to consider it seriously, taking time to recompose his brain. Being with Bitty -- it has taught him so much, about his own feelings and others' and how to put them into words, the importance of open communication. He told Shitty that the previous day after Jerry's -- feelings could easily not occur to him, even if he felt them very strongly. He coexisted with them without acknowledging their existence a lot of the time, and this phone call is only one example of it. Being with Bitty, having to be aware and give name and give value to his own feelings to make things work between them, has changed the way he interacted with his emotions. Made him understand himself better. He’s not at all sure he would’ve been capable of articulating himself in a conversation like this if not for the progress Bitty and he have made together.

But being aware of his worth as a person, and learning that his disorder didn’t define him but shouldn’t be brushed aside either, that wasn’t Bitty. “No, Shits. That’s your influence on me.”

This silence is even longer than the one before it, and then it’s broken by muffled sniffles on the other side. Jack's heart leaps, panic building in his chest -- but then Shitty says, throat choked up, “I thought -- fuck, Jack, this is gonna sound so motherfucking stupid. But I thought you didn’t, y’know. Need me anymore. I know this is on me too, I’m barely keeping my head above water here and the whole -- fuckin’ Harvard situation, it’s not… but each day we didn't talk and I saw your game scores, or I would see those Falcs vids… it looks like you have this spankin’ fuckin’ brand new life that I know shit about. And you’ve got Mashkov, and St. Martin, and…”

Jack can’t find adequate words for a long moment, and once he opens his mouth he’s surprised to hear his voice is thick, surprised to feel hot tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. “Shitty. Tater is great. And Marty is great, and -- Thirdy, and all of them. But.”

None of them are you, he wants to say, but that sounds too dumb to utter out loud. That’s not how Shitty and he talk to each other, or at least, it’s not how Jack talks to Shitty. Shitty is good at phrasing his feelings in ways Jack can handle, but Jack can’t ever make the right words come out of his mouth.

There’s another pause, his mind blanking, and then he says, “Tater didn’t make me sign a friendship contract.”

Shitty snorts, but it isn’t a happy sound. “Jacko --”

“No. Shits --. Tater didn’t make the effort to be my friend even when I was doing everything I could to push him away. He didn’t drag my ass to the Haus my freshman year after I hadn't talked to anyone but faculty in two weeks. He didn’t argue with Bergey until we were banked together on every roadie and was heartbroken when no one spread rumors about us hooking up.”

That shot goes wide. “Oh fuckity fuck, Jack, I’m a fucking dickhead --”

“Bordel de merde, Shitty, will you fucking listen?” Jack rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose, feels his skin crease between his brows. “Tater didn’t make me go to Gender in Warfare in Early 20th Century America because he knew it’d end up one of my favorite classes, or learnt my story about the fire extinguisher and the football team by heart, or -- or have been defending me behind my back since the first week he knew me. Tater’s great. I’m -- you know, uh, thankful, for having people on the Falcs. I didn’t think it could be -- after the guys at Samwell, no team would ever be the same.”

“Yeah,” Shitty says, sadly, in the tone of someone who knows exactly what Jack means.

Jack’s throat bobs when he swallows, chest aching. “And they’re great. But Tater -- or Marty, or any of them -- they’re not...”

None of them are you, Jack wants Shitty to hear, gripping his pants in his hand again to balance himself. He doesn’t know how to say it in a way that would make Shitty hear him. None of them could ever be you.

There’s once again silence between them, only interrupted by Shitty’s quiet sniffles and the erratic beating of Jack’s heart. His phone is too warm on his ear, clammy from sweat smearing over the screen, but he can’t bring himself to put Shitty on speaker. It feels like they’re too far apart to have this conversation already, like Shitty should be sitting here on the couch next to Jack in flimsy underwear like he was every time they needed to talk like this over the past four years.

After a long moment, Shitty makes an ambiguous rasping noise and admits, “I was jealous.”

Jack winces. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Yeah, I mean, apology accepted, whatever, just. I was jealous they got to be there for you every day, really be there in the moments I used to live through with you that I now know zilch about. I was used to that being me.” He then adds, much more grimly, “Except apparently I sucked ass at being there for you at all when it counted.”

Jack sighs. They veered off topic to talk about something Jack considers more important, but now they were back to that and he knows in the pit of his stomach that they, both of them, won’t be able to move on until they talk this through. This is a conversation they need to have, even if it would be easier for Jack to not have it at all. “Shitty. I need to tell you something.”

The thing about Shitty is that he has faults like the rest of them, but Jack has always known that he’d drop anything if Jack needed him. He knows because it goes unconditionally both ways. Shitty’s voice goes immediately even and he wastes no time before saying, “I'm listening.”

Jack swallows. It feels -- heavy, on his breastbones. It didn’t before, it didn’t at Jerry's. He doesn’t remember this weight from years ago, when he first talked about it with his parents, and then -- later, too much later -- with his therapist. His chest was so laden with other concerns then that there was no room for anything more, and this burden was only ever an afterthought. At Jerry's he was thinking of Bitty, of Bitty’s happiness and Jack's own happiness with him, and the necessity of the action for their joint happiness. It didn’t leave any space for this weight.

Now he can feel the weight. It’s stupid. Shitty already knows, and besides, it’s Shitty. Jack knows Shitty so well that he can practically predict the exact words he will use, and even if he couldn’t, he knows Shitty would never turn him away. Yet his chest feels tight, like he’s holding in all of his air, and his fingers are again shaking against his thigh. “Shitty, I'm dating Bittle.”

Shitty makes a baffled sound, clearly not expecting this choice of confession. “I -- yeah, dude, I know.”

“I’m dating Bittle,” Jack reiterates determinedly, eager to get it over with. “He’s a guy.”

Shitty goes quiet for a moment, and then he says, voice low, “Okay.”

Jack wasn’t sure he was going to say it, but now that they’re here, this is something he wants Shitty to know. “He’s not the first guy I’ve been with.”

Shitty’s sharp intake of breath at this is audible even over the phone, but other than that he doesn’t react outwardly. Jack's shaking hand lifts up to rub over his chest while he waits for Shitty to say something, and Shitty doesn’t keep him waiting long. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

That’s almost exactly the reaction Jack expected to hear, but for some reason he doesn’t feel settled. “It never came up before.”

“That’s okay, buddy,” Shitty reassures him. Jack’s not sure what Shitty is thinking, if he’s thinking anything at all. This probably isn’t as big a deal to him as it feels like to Jack.

Jack frowns down at the shadows of his socked feet in the dark, thinks it over, and then corrects, “No, actually -- no. It never came up with anyone else. But I did think of telling you. More than once. You were the only one… but I had reasons not to. Or, I thought I did.”

“That’s still cool, brah,” Shitty hurries to interrupt. “You don’t have to --”

“No, because,” Jack sighs, trails off midsentence. He doesn’t want Shitty to make this easy for him, to allow Jack to take the exit he’s being offered. He knows they could stop the discussion right there and Shitty would never say a thing, but he doesn’t want this to hang over their friendship for the rest of time, and he knows that it could if he doesn’t force himself to dig deeper. “Because when you assumed that if I had someone it must’ve been a girlfriend, it hurt. I didn’t realize before -- I thought I was upset because Bitty was hurt, and I hurt him even more with my reaction, and it mattered more at the time. But it hurt. And that’s not entirely fair to you, because you had no reason to think otherwise. Because I didn’t tell you.”

There’s more rustling in the background, and Shitty talks over him before the last word is out of his mouth. “Jack, no, you’re under no obligation to disclose your identity to anyone and it doesn’t give them any right to assume -- I assumed and it was so fucking wrong --”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, because it was. He’s not trying to argue that it wasn’t. Shitty was wrong, but that’s not the point Jack is trying to make.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Shitty sounds contrite, and Jack can almost imagine the look on his face now. The small wrinkle in his forehead, the downward slope of his mustache, the sharp angle of his jaw. Shitty always looks older when he feels guilty about something. “So fuckin’ sorry.”

“That’s okay, man. Eh. Well, it's not, but it's forgiven.” And it is, Jack knows. He’s already forgiven Shitty, would have to try so hard not to forgive Shitty. They’ve hurt each other in the past and they’ll most likely hurt each other again in the future, but it’s never done intentionally. Shitty’s friendship is worth all of this crap and always has.

“I guess I just... “ Shitty lowers his voice, and Jack has to press the phone harder into his ear to hear him. “Fuck, I don’t want to excuse my actions, this does not in any way justify the shit I said. But I guess, in my mind, even though I know you should never assume about anyone, I did think that because it’s you… that you’d tell me. If there was ever anything to tell.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says this time. He’s not sure Shitty knows this, but this is what he was trying to get to before. What Shitty is saying is reasonable even if it isn’t ideal.

“Fuck no. What the fucking fuck are you apologizing for, you idiot --”

“I’m not apologizing for not telling you, Shits,” Jack stops him before it becomes another rant. He’s growing tired of using so many words at once, feeling the toll of the unexpected emotional turmoil he’s dragging his overworked body through. “I know what you said was wrong, and I know I didn’t have to tell you. I’m saying I’m sorry if you were hurt by it. And I'm apologizing if it made you feel like I didn't trust you, or. Or some shit.”

Another pause follows Jack’s words, and he has to stifle the urge to collapse sideways into the couch and shove his face into a cushion until everything goes away. This conversation, as necessary as it is, doesn’t come naturally to either of them. They’ve been talking about their feelings for too long now and it’s starting to get awkward and overwhelming.

“I’m not saying I wasn’t super touched by your previous comment,” Shitty says, suddenly. “Because stereotypical masculinity is complete bullshit and I’m not ashamed to admit I teared the fuck up. But Jack -- Bitty has done some serious work on you. Or, like, you know, healthy relationships and all, you two worked on yourselves with each other to be better and all that, but. Man, I don’t think that’s a distinction you would’ve made six months ago.”

Jack considers it. The idea of someone’s hurt being valid even if the reason for it didn’t make sense probably isn’t a concept he would’ve been able to grasp, or at least would not have paid much thought to. Looking back, he was probably hurt dozens of times by little comments in the Haus, or things he heard around campus, or moments of feeling left out by his team; but when the reason for his hurt wasn’t completely logical it was harder for him to allow himself that pain. He would usually distract himself from it, instead. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“But can I just say again -- I'm so fucking sorry for being a heteronormative jackass. I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for hurting Bits, I’m sorry for --”

Esti de câlice de tabarnak. Jack drops his face into his palm and sighs over the string of Shitty’s rapidly escalating apologies. Jack is fully aware that Shitty is just going to apologize until they’re both old and gray if Jack doesn’t stop him. “Shitty, can you knock it?”

Shitty hesitates, but the flood of his words stops. “I miss you,” is what he says eventually.

Jack drops his hand down, leans his weight on his elbows and blinks at the dark room. Shitty used to tell him that all of the time. When they were apart on school breaks; when they were separated on roadies; when Jack had two lectures and a senior workshop on Wednesday nights and Shitty wouldn’t see him for several consecutive hours. Shitty’s affection was always abundant and inescapable, and Jack didn't know it was something he was lacking until he finally hears it. “I miss you, too, man.”

Shitty lets the gravity of it, the seriousness in Jack's voice settle between them, the earnestness he wouldn’t usually hand over easily when they were back at school. And then he says, “It’s hard as fuck, man. It’s hard to admit that it’s hard, too. It’s hard to see Lards’ pics from kegsters I can’t attend anymore, and it’s hard to find friends in this pretentious shithole full of pretensions dicks, and -- Harvard is fucking hard, Jack. And I hate being away from you guys, but I don’t wanna bring you down with my sad. You assholes are my goddamn family, there’s nothing that’s ever gonna replace that. It sucks knowing that I'm stuck here. I miss you so much it drives me fuckin’ insane.”

Jack knows, instantly and wholeheartedly, what Shitty is talking about. He’s living his dream and he loves the Falcs and he’s sincerely grateful for all of it even on his worst days. But sometimes stepping off the ice after a grueling practice and getting pictures of Bitty, laughing with Holster and Ransom on the ice at Faber -- it aches somewhere deep inside him. Sometimes he lies awake in foreign hotel rooms in foreign cities, and while most nights he longs for nothing more than Bitty’s presence, others he closes his eyes and wishes Shitty was there to crawl into his bed again. Sometimes he puts on his jersey before games and imagines the blue and yellow are red and white. His team from Samwell is his family, too, and sometimes missing them feels like missing an amputated limb.

“I wish we got to see each other more,” Jack squeezes out. His windpipe feels strangled, and for a moment he thinks that if he blinks too hard tears might well up again. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s so tired his body is shutting down, or because he’s been holding on to more emotions than he previously thought. “I didn’t know --. I feel the same way, Shitty, but I didn’t know you felt like that. I’m sorry we didn’t really talk much lately.”

It wasn’t something Jack was consciously aware of, but he more or less assumed that if Shitty was ever struggling he would just reach out for help. Shitty was always the better one of the two of them at communicating his feelings, at saying when he needed something or was going through a rough time. It never occurred to Jack to reach out and ask because he always figured that Shitty would come to him first. It's a startling realization. He really isn’t as good a friend as Shitty deserves.

“‘S not your fault,” Shitty objects, even though in some ways it really is. But Shitty means it, Jack knows, despite the lingering hints of anxiety. Shitty wouldn’t say it if he didn’t honestly believe it wasn’t Jack’s fault.

“Maybe, but you should make time for the things that matter to you, right? I’ll try to be better about that. I wanna be there for you, too.”

Shitty sighs, and the tails of it turn into a breathy, weary laugh. “Fuck, Jacko, this is a fuckin’ sobfest. Shit, man. Yeah. I’ll try, too. We could Skype, even. You know I miss that mug of yours.”

Jack finally pulls the phone away from his ear, wipes the sweat tracks away and switches the call to speakerphone. His calendar app is full of cute little reminders Bitty leaves anonymously, like 06:30 work hard and have fun! or 11:11 someone is thinking of you. He’s developed a habit of checking his calendar often these past six months, counting down the days until he gets to see Bitty next. He’s sure it won’t be easy, especially with the progression of the Falconers’ season, but from now on he’ll have to make every effort to fit more people into his schedule. Bitty makes him happy, but he’s not the only one who does.

Jack scrolls through the events logged into his upcoming week. He’s got a game on Monday and one at home on Wednesday, and then Thursday is American Thanksgiving. Bitty is throwing together a whole meal for the Samwell team. He told Jack that he’s under no obligation to come if practice time doesn’t allow it, but... “Are you going to Hausgiving on Thursday?”

Shitty curses loudly. “Fuck, I fuckin’ wish, but I don’t know if that’s smart. I’ve got this fuckin’ test coming up. But I promised Lar-- uh --”

Jack smirks, even if it’s only to himself in an empty apartment. Lardo texted him after Jerry’s to let him know that the two of them will exchange deets privately like civilized bros, but Shitty still seems to be under the illusion that he’s fooling someone. Like his heart-eyes haven’t been obvious from space -- and Jack is painfully aware that if he noticed, that really says something. “Lardo, eh? Not getting out of that one.”

He can almost see Shitty’s answering furious blush from all those miles away. “Fuck you, Zimmermann, don’t make this about me. What I was sayin’ is, I wanna be there super freakin’ bad -- we all know I will gladly sell my right leg for Bitty’s cooking --”

“And for Lardo’s company,” Jack chirps, incredibly satisfied with this turn of conversation.

“I will fuck you right up, don’t you think I won’t!” Shitty threatens emptily, even though Jack takes him down every single time. “Seriously. Your bro becomes a pro athlete and suddenly he thinks he’s a goddamn comedian. Anyway. For Bitty’s cooking, I will make an effort. You got team stuff?”

“No,” Jack says with finality, swiping his calendar closed. He always feels better when things are put into action. “I think I’m going.”

“For Bitty?” Shitty asks, most likely trying to chirp Jack back.

“Well. Yes,” Jack says, perfectly honest. He’s not in any way ashamed of how much he wants to be near Bitty all of the time. He doesn’t think he can remember ever being less ashamed of anything in his life. “But also for you. Think you can meet me there?”

Shitty’s quiet. And then he says, “For my best friend? I’ll meet you halfway across the universe, Jackabelle.”

After the two of them hang up the call, Jack doesn’t move, his eyes fixed blindly in the direction of the windows across the room. His food is growing cold on the coffee table, but Jack thinks that at this point he might genuinely be too tired to eat. Whatever little energy he had left after the game was spent on this conversation with Shitty. He doesn’t regret it; they needed to say all of those things. Jack needed to hear all of those things, both so he could forgive Shitty for something he didn’t know he was holding onto, and so he could work on being a more considerate friend.

The game plan is solid, though, Jack decides. Thanksgiving dinner at the Haus will bring the opportunity to be completely honest with his friends after months of hiding a big aspect of his life from them. And it’d be fun, too. Ransom would put together actual charts for the seating arrangement, and Holster would draw everyone into a betting pool on the football game results, and Bitty would inevitably prepare insane amounts of food using the frogs as his sous chefs. He would probably insist that they’d hold hands around the table and say one thing each of them wants to give thanks for, as well.

Jack doesn’t mind American Thanksgiving, but he’s never really seen the point of that ritual. He’s known for a long time now what he's truly grateful for.

#omgcp #jackshitty #jackshitty fic #omgcheckplease #pavfics #i decided not to wait for friendship day because i'm not sure i'll be around to post then #but i hope you'll enjoy this anyway?#i wanted to write something about their friendship in early y3 in forever

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spencessmile · 4 years ago

Text

Let Me In

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary - Spencer takes you to visit his mother but it doesn’t go as planned.

Warnings - Angst & Fluff

Word Count - 2,510 words

All imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and post it without my consent.

Feedback and comments are always welcome. Happy reading!

Requests are open!

Even though you've been to Las Vegas for a couple of cases, but after profiling and catching unsubs you want nothing more than to go home so you never got the chance to spend any time exploring the city.

You and Spencer landed in Las Vegas on Friday. Spencer dragged you around between Saturday and Sunday showing you some places here and there and all of his favorite places.

It was Monday morning and you found yourself putting on too many layers of clothes. You looked out the window and noticed the trees blowing, indicating that it was windy. Even though it was almost March the forecast was between 36 to 40 degrees. You were used to cold weather but after being in warm weather and suddenly finding yourself in a colder environment, it completely messed with your body.

"One steaming cup of coffee for my love," Spencer put the cup down, wrapping his hands around your waist.

"Spence," You groaned. "Why is it so cold?" Spencer snuggled his neck into your shoulder.

"We live in Virginia," He chuckled.

You looked at him through the mirror. "Yeah, so?"

"Virginia is way colder than Vegas."

"Were in Nevada, this is the desert," You say. "It's not supposed to be this cold."

"Baby, the desert is known for the temperatures dropping below freezing."

"Yeah whatever you say genius," You mumbled. "I'm still cold by the way," Spencer moved to his closet and pulled out a long royal blue scarf. He wrapped it nicely around your neck, pulling your hair out watching it loosely fall into your shoulders.

"How about now?" He asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Ohhh," You said, snuggling your chin in the incredibly soft scarf. "Much better."

"Good," He said, kissing your cheek. "Have your coffee and then we'll get going, alright?" You nodded.

You and Spencer have been dating for three years and Spencer told you about the condition of his mother. A couple of months into dating you introduced Spencer to your parents but you never pushed to meet his mother knowing the situation. You know that Spencer would take you to meet her whenever he felt the time was right.

Your head was in Spencer's lap, as you both were watching a random movie on TV.

"Can I ask you something?" Spencer suddenly asked, you turned your face towards his.

"Fire away."

Spencer played with your hair, lingering with his thoughts. You reached up for his face. "What's wrong?"

"Would you want to meet my mother?" You were taken back by his sudden question and Spencer took notice, immediately.

It was at times like this that being an FBI profiler, sucked. You and Spencer read each other super quickly. You both promised each other that when you started dating that you would never profile each other but it's easier said than done.

"Why did you ma-"

"No," You sat up quickly and stopped him before he could continue. "I'm just taken back because you asked so suddenly."

"Are you not ready to meet her?" He asked.

"It's not that."

"When what?"

"Spence," You held his hands. "Just because you met my parents, I don't want you to feel that you have to introduce me to your mom. I want you to introduce me whenever you feel ready. I don't care if that takes seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months, or decades. I want to meet her when you feel comfortable. I will never push you."

Spencer pulled you in for a hug, "I love you."

"I love you too," You pulled back.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah."

"I'm comfortable with you meeting my mom."

"Then I'd love to meet the woman who raised you."

You and Spencer got to the facility where his mom was, but before opening the door Spencer pulled at your hand, halting your steps towards.

"What's wrong?" You asked, the wind blowing your hair.

"Before we go inside I need to know if you're okay with this?"

"I'm fine."

"I never know what type of day she is having but I always hope for the best Y/N," Spencer says. "I just don't want her to terrify you or say something that might offend you because she can sometimes do that."

"That's not her talking," You spoke. "That's the medications she's on."

"I know," Spencer nodded. "I just hope she's having a good day."

"Well if she is having a bad day, I'm sure it'll turn around once she sees this beautiful face," You said, squishing Spencer's face and he lightly laughed. "Come on, I want to meet the lovely woman you raised such a dorky, intelligent, and handsome man whom I love so much."

You reached up on your tiptoes and gave him a kiss, and you felt him relax. Spencer took a deep breath lacing his hand with yours.

Spencer stepped into the facility first and you followed. There was a woman standing at the door and she greeted Spencer with a wide smile. You flashed the woman your ID and she nodded.

"Spencer I should warn you about your mother's condition before you go in to see her," She said holding her clipboard.

"Dr. D's/N, I already know the condition of my mother." You could feel Spencer tense up beside you.

"There have been rece-"

"If I have any further concerns I will speak to you," Spencer led you down the hall and stopped in front of the beige-colored door. Spencer carefully stepped into the room and you followed. Sitting on a chair near the bed was a woman, who was flipping through, what looked like a scrapbook. She had short blonde hair and was wearing a flannel pajama with a hoodie.

"Hi mom," Spencer said softly, not wanting to startle his mom. She immediately closed the book and moved her chair further back.

"Spencer?" She questioned. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," He said walking up to her. She flashed him a small smile and hugged Spencer. They stayed hugging each other for a few moments and you couldn't help but stare. Spencer's mom noticed you were staring and pulled back.

"Spencer, who on earth is that? Why is she staring?" She pointed to you.

"Mom," Spencer motioned for you to come closer. "This is Y/N, my girlfriend," You took a step forward.

"No!" She said looking away from you. "Don't come any closer."

"Hey, hey," Spencer said, putting his hands on his mom's shoulders. "It's okay, she's not going to hurt you. She's with me."

You didn't move an inch from your spot. "Ms. Reid, it-"

"Do not say my name from that disgusting mouth of yours!" She yelled at you. "Spencer get her out of here!"

"Mom what are you doing?" Spencer said looking at his mom with concern, helping her sit down. "She's harmless," Spencer looked back at you. "Y/N, come here," You just continued to look at Spencer's mom.

"NO!" She yelled, starting to panic. "She was here all last night! She was watching me through the door! I saw her, Spencer!"

"Mom sh-"

"She tried to kill me last night, she stood by the door all last night!" Spencer's mom threw a flower vase at you, but your quick reflexes were faster as you moved out of the way, watching it shatter into pieces beside you.

"Mom, what are you doing?!" Spencer asked as she continued to throw things at you.

"Spence, it's okay," You finally said. "I'll go, I'll just wait outside. It's okay."

"Y/N, no wait," As Spencer tried to grab your hand Spencer's mom grabbed him by the arm.

"Do not follow that wicked evil woman! She's pure evil. She tried to kill me last night Spencer!”

"Mom Y/N didn't try to kill you last night. She was wit-" He tried to explain.

"Noooooooooo!!!" She yelled. Before you could even leave the room, nurses came rushing it. You decided to give them space and walked out of the facility. You walked outside until you saw a bench.

You sat down waiting for Spencer. The wind had picked up a bit so you put your hands in your pocket and leaned your head towards your knees, looking down at your shoes. It stayed like that for a while until you heard the facility doors open.

"Y/N?" You heard someone call out for you, you stood up and saw Spencer standing on the steps. "Y/N?" He called out to you again.

"Spence!" You waved your hand until he caught your attention. As soon as he noticed you he ran to you as fast as his feet allowed him. He pulled you in for a hug immediately.

"Are you okay?" You ask, rubbing his back and he pulled back.

"I should be asking you that."

"I'm fine," You answer.

You knew Spencer had a lot on his mind, you guided him towards the bench and sat down. Neither of you said anything. You could tell Spencer was building his walls. When he built walls he pushed everyone out, that included; you.

Over the years you were the person Spencer would talk to everything about, you were his person. He shared almost everything with you. You once pushed Spencer to tell you about his family since you knew nothing about them and Spencer refused but you kept pushing and pushing, little did you know that while you pushed Spencer he had silently built up a wall from ever talking about his family.

When Morgan and JJ told you about Spencer's mother, you immediately apologized for pushing. Ever since then you never brought it up.

"Spence, you built up these walls when it comes to your mother and family. I will never understand how you feel," It was true, you would never know how he feels on a daily basis about his family but you always try to be there for him. "I know it's difficult for you to talk about it with people but you can't block me out. You have to let me in."

Spencer laid his head on your shoulder, not saying anything but letting you know he heard you.

"I'm so sorry," Spencer finally spoke up.

"No," You said. "Don't you dare apologize to me."

"I didn't know she was having a bad day or that she would say those things to you. If I had known I would have never brought you here to meet her."

"Spence there is no way you could have known that she was having a bad day."

"She's been confused when she meets new people but she's never thrown flower vases at them. I don't why she started to act that way. And the things she said to you," Spencer stopped to look at you.

"I didn't take any offense to her words Spencer," You say, quietly. "We've had unsubs say shitter things to us and we're still here." You laughed.

"I just didn't want her hurting you."

"She didn't." You knew that no more how much you assured Spencer he'd still feel bad. "Babe you can't control whether she has good or bad days."

You could tell Spencer was drowning in his thoughts.

"We can always try again," You said, his head still on your shoulder.

"You might not have a next time," Spencer slowly said. You moved and Spencer lifted his head, looking down at his hands.

"What do you mean?" Your heart started racing at his words.

"The doctors said that her condition is getting worse. She's been more paranoid and acting out, as they say. They want to put her in another clinical trial but I know that she won't agree. She'll shut me out as soon as I even mention it. I had to pull her out of her last one," Spencer says. "I want to help her but I just don't know how Y/N," You moved and saw Spencer crying.

You pulled him in for another hug, "I know you're not going to believe me when I say this but you are doing things for her. You write a letter and call her every day, you try to fly out whenever we're not on a case. You've been doing these things for so long that you probably didn't even realize that these are the ways you’re helping her."

"Sometimes I wish I could take her home so that she wouldn't forget me," Spencer lets a few more tears fall. "I don-don't want her to forget me. I woul-wouldn't know what to do with myself," He sniffled.

"Love," You wipe his tears and he kisses your hand. "She won't forget you. She may forget everything and anything else but please believe me when I say she is never going to forget you. You’re her son, a mother just doesn’t forget her children.” Your own words stabbed at your heart because there was so much history behind them but your story was for another day.

Spencer nods, wiping his eyes. “How was she doing after I left?"

"They gave her a sedative to calm her down," He replied. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being so understanding. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I don't know either," You say, shivering. "Would you happen to know any coffee shops around here? Your girlfriend is in need of a good cup of coffee and maybe one raspberry muffin."

Spencer helped you up and wrapped the scarf around your neck tighter, "I might just know the best place," Spencer and you walked hand in hand as he guided you to his favorite coffee shop. He looked over at you and smirked. "Just one muffin?" He asked and you shook your head.

"Okay okay, you got me, two maybe three," You replied as he laughed.

"You know after we grab our coffee and you're still feeling cold I could think of another way to warm you up," Spencer whispered in your ear.

You playfully hit his shoulder. "Spencer Reid!" He threw his head back in a laugh.

You reached the coffee shop, found a table, ordered your coffees which came after a couple of minutes along with your raspberry muffin and Spencer's buttery croissant.

"Can you promise me something?" You asked, grabbing his free hand.

"Yeah.”

"I know it'll be difficult for you but when things start to get tough I'm going to need you to let me in, promise?" He put his hand on yours and with the most adorable face he said;

"I promise when things get difficult I will let you in."

My walls are built up of stones but I swear for you I will tear them down - Unknown

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #BAU #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds masterlist #criminal #spencer reid x angst #spencer reid x fluff

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Exile: Five Whole Minutes

Previous: Breaking Branches

Pairing: Timotheé Chalamet x Reader

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Timothée’s crossed the line... now what?

Exile Master List

She left a kiss on his cheek as she ran down the stairs and out to the garage. She knew he’d remember her 10:30 workout, a Saturday staple, but she texted to remind him that today she had brunch with a few friends. She delicately wrote a note, which she set next to a freshly filled glass with water before setting it on the bathroom counter, ibuprofen next to it. She knew he would be dehydrated when he awoke, not only from their intimacy the previous night, but from the copious amounts of alcohol they drank.

Timothée had begun shipping a few boxes home from vineyards and distilleries that he’d enjoyed while filming, often holes in the wall that had no Yelp review, often small family owned places. He’d send a case to his parents, one to his agent and manager, and one home. She loved that he brought home specialty liquor, particularly because it made their bar a little gauche and allowed her to feign any understanding of the complexities of alcohol. She preferred prosecco, preferably under $15 and easily accessible in her local grocery stores liquor aisle.

Timothée was a connoisseur, a wannabe sommelier. He had an impeccable palate, which always terrified her when out at restaurants or catching a drink on a Thursday, unsure what to order. She often deferred to him, leaning on his expertise. At first, he thought it was charming, he liked that she wanted him to pick it out. In reality, she was avoiding looking like an idiot in front of a man she liked so much so quickly. Eventually she shared her insecurity, and the next time they were out, he asked if she wanted him to order for her, and since then, he had taught her a lot about alcohol, about making drinks, about which wines paired with what. In her heart, she didn’t care, but she felt more confident every time they went out.

They loved sharing nights over a new acquisition. But it could also be their downfall. Last night they had tasted three different bottles of vodka, sipping slowly on their drinks while they caught up and made out.

Timothée had returned on Tuesday from filming. Much like his other projects, he was completely burned out. Yes, set tended to have a lot of downtime, but Timothée was a pro, and he knew that the last two weeks were often the most grueling. Filming all hours, getting shots and different takes and angles on every scene. His body was physically worn down, and his mind had tried to separate himself from the incident two months prior. The minute he got to their house, she was waiting with a scalding bath, the perfect balance of Epsom salts and lavender. She knew him so well and slowly undressed him and herself, languidly moving into their tub. The music was low, the lights were dimmed, and they sat together, skin pruning, reacquainting themselves with the intimacy they had missed.

She’d made dinner and they ate in comfortable silence. Then, she gave him a melatonin gummy and he passed out at 8PM.

There was nothing like falling asleep in your own bed, in your own house, with the person you love, after being away for three months. His accommodations abroad were always nice, often over the top for him. He took it upon himself to become friends with the staff, to say hello to every member he saw, and he took his politeness very seriously, particularly in a country where he didn’t speak the language. But his own sheets… waking up to her … his own bathroom with the perfect water pressure … and a closet where his clothes were put away correctly, where laundry was done when he wanted it to be when, where he could cook any time of day. Their house was home, whether it was this estate or the flat in New York.

He fell asleep quickly and awoke early afternoon to find her gone to work, but his favorite pastries from their local bakery waiting for him. Upon her return she found him doing laundry and making space for his new purchases. He left a surprise for her on the top of the counter in their closet, knowing she’d find it when she came up to change.

“Babe, what’s this?” She asked, carrying the bag into the laundry room.

“It’s a gift,” He said, folding the stack of t-shirts.

“You didn’t have to,”

“I wanted to,”

“Tim, this isn’t because you feel-

“No, it’s because I saw it and I thought you would like it. I like to buy you things while I’m gone,” He said shrugging.

“I really like it,” She said, holding the bag tight to her chest.

“I’m glad,” He stopped folding to take her in. She was still in her professional attire, hair pulled back and dangling earrings still in. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, I had an important meeting this afternoon,” She looked up from the bag and caught him staring.

“That’s a good color on you,” He said, moving towards her to rest his hands on her hips. She’d missed his touch and shivered at the contact.

“Thank you,” She whispered, eyes darting from his lips to his eyes. He mimicked the movement and leaned in to kiss her. She turned her head. “I need to change.”

She turned on her heels and walked back to their closet, silently screaming.

Timothée didn’t protest or pry, he knew why she’d pulled away. Perhaps after dinner they would talk, air things out. She was often hesitant to be intimate when he returned, unsure who he’d been with… the fact that she knew, the fact that she’d spent Friendsgiving at her house and had invited her to movie nights made it worse. Maybe she needed more time.

Which is how they ended up drunk and having sex in various places in their home all Friday afternoon, evening and night. There was something in the liquor that loosened her up, and something in how he looked and spoke to her that reminded her how much he loves her. It was also because of the alcohol that they had officially ended their open relationship, deciding monogamy was what they both wanted. The incident with Florence had caused them to reevaluate their relationship. Wasn’t that the point of a relationship? To grow and challenge one another, and at the end of the day, make decisions together? It was on that note that they had made love most of Friday, and why he was sleeping until eleven on Saturday.

Timothée was awoken by his phone ringing and loudly vibrating off the nightstand. Jolted from his dreamless slumber, he quickly reached for it and furrowed his eyebrows at the caller ID.

“Hello?” He growled softly as he cleared his throat.

“Hey Timmy, can we meet for coffee? I have something I need to talk to you about,” Florence said.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. When?”

“Can you do 30 minutes?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, where?”

“Do you want to just come here?” She asked.

“Sure, see you in 30 minutes,” He hung up the phone before jumping out of bed. He made the bed quickly, and thankfully tossed back the water and ibuprofen left for him. He scanned the note while he brushed his teeth. He slipped a baseball cap over his curls and slid into his favorite trainers. He hopped into his car, grateful that she was kind enough to put gas in it and drove off.

It was three hours later when he heard the garage door open. He tried to wipe the snot from his face. He wondered if he washed his face quickly, would it make a difference?

She came in through the garage, singing. As the door shut behind her, she was stopped by how quiet it was. Their home was never quiet, particularly in LA, where they often played music or podcasts throughout the house. As she paused, she listened, where was he?

“Tim? Timothée?” She called moving through the kitchen. “Babe, where are you?” It was then that she heard a sniffle from the living room. She turned down the hallway and beelined for the space.

She stopped dead in her tracks as she took in the sight in front of her. His eyes were swollen and puffed. A pile of tissues sat on the coffee table, the box flipped on its side, no tissues left. His hat was long forgotten, the pile of tissues starting to form a dome on top of it. His curls were blown from his hands running through and tugging them. He glances at her through swollen eye lids.

“Babe what’s wrong?” She asked, rushing to his side. He engulfed her into his arms, tears falling onto the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He sobbed.

“Tim, what’s going on?” She questioned, still holding him.

“I’m so sorry,” He cried.

“Tim, you’re starting to scare me. What’s wrong?”

“Florence called, she wanted to have coffee,”

Her mind began racing. She called today, she knew of their arrangement, had she decided she wanted more from Timothée? Had he slept with her, a day after they had decided to be monogamous? Had she called to say she gave him HIV or Chlamydia? Was she dying?

“Okay, and?” She whispered, bracing for the hit.

“She’s, she’s pregnant, and it’s mine, and she’s keeping it,” He tried to breathe, to inhale the air she’s exhaling, but she was rigid.

“What?” She asked. She could feel her entire body going cold, her eyes filling with tears.

“Florence… She wanted to get coffee and she told me,” He said. He sounded like a teenager who had had sex for the first time and gotten his girlfriend pregnant at Christian Summer Camp. Like his entire life was over, like his future was ruined. His voice was already pleading, though he didn’t know for what.

“She’s pregnant?” She whispered.

“Yes,” He said.

“And it’s?” She asked.

“Mine.” His voice cracked. “She wanted me to know and said we could talk about how involved I wanted to be. I have to think about it! I, I’m going to be a -

“Okay,” She said, arms dropping to her sides. Her tone was hollow. “I’m um, congrats. I’m going to ...”

She stalled, brain trying to work in overdrive to compensate for the sludge it was peddling through. She decided on her next action before running up the stairs. At first, he thought she was slamming the door to tell him to stay away. But then she came down the stairs, large suitcase packed. She didn’t stop to talk. She didn’t stop to listen to him. She didn’t stop to console him or offer him support. She didn’t stop as he called her name, as he followed her to the garage. She didn’t stop as she watched him fall to the floor in the space her car once was. She didn’t stop as she drove away from the house and the life they shared. He didn’t stop calling after her, even after his knees hit the concrete, the snot and tears mixing on his tongue as he tried to will her back.

Next: My Town

#timothee x reader #timothee x you #timothee chalamet #actor #RPF #actor RPF #established relationship #couple #exile #Florence Pugh #Love #dating #heartbreak

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crazy4dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Everything Will Be Okay

Astrid comforts Hiccup after he finds out his injuries from a car accident are more serious than he thought. Pure fluff! Like Heaven AU. Hiccstrid are about 16 here.

Hearing her phone ring, Astrid turned her attention away from her homework and looked at the caller ID.

Hiccup 😜

“Hey, Hiccup,” she greeted as she accepted the call.

“Are you busy?” came Hiccup’s voice through the speaker.

“I’m just doing homework. Why, what’s up?”

Hiccup sighed. “I had physical therapy today. You know, for my leg. And my therapist told me that I’m not making the progress he thought I would.”

“Listen, you shattered your bone pretty badly. And with the fracture in your ankle, too, it might take longer than expected for everything to heal all the way.”

“That’s the thing, Astrid. It’s not going to heal all the way.” Hiccup’s voice cracked. “The doctors are recommending I get a second surgery. And if that doesn’t work, I might have to use a wheelchair off and on for the rest of my life. Or maybe just a cane if I’m lucky, but I don’t want to be walking around like an old man with a walking stick. Do you know how much I’ll get teased at school? If I can ever go back to school?”

“But there’s also a chance the second surgery could work, right?”

“I guess, but even if it does, my limp will never go away permanently.” He sniffled.

Astrid frowned. “Hiccup? Are you crying?”

He didn’t reply.

“Are you still there? Hiccup?”

“Can you…can you come over? I need you,” Hiccup said, still sniffling. “And if it’s okay with your mom, do you think you could just stay the night?”

“I’ll ask, but she might say no because it’s a school night. Are your parents there?”

“Yeah, both of them are here. I’ll be honest with you, Astrid, I cried the whole way home from physical therapy, and cried more when we got home. My mom sat with me for a while, but she thought that maybe it would help take my mind off of everything if you came over.”

Astrid shut her laptop and, putting her phone on speaker and resting it on her desk, began to pack up her school supplies. “Yeah, I can come for at least a couple hours. I’ll check with my mom about sleeping over, too. Is there anything you want me to bring?”

“No. But if you’re down to cuddle, that would be great.”

“Of course I am.”

“Great. Well, I’ll let you go, then. Do you need my dad to come pick you up?”

“No, I can walk.”

“But Astrid, it’s freezing out. And dark.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll ask my dad come get you. I’ll tell him to be there in fifteen.”

“Okay, if you insist. I’ll talk to my mom about the sleepover and text you to let you know what she says.”

“Sounds good. See you in a bit, then.”

“See you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

…

Twenty minutes later, Astrid walked into Hiccup’s house, her overnight bag over her shoulder and a pillow under her arm.

“Hello, dear,” greeted Valka. “I’m so glad you could come. Hiccup could really use a friend.”

“Is he in his room?”

“Yes, love, he’s in his room. Did you have dinner yet? Stoick made pan-seared salmon and noodles. We have leftovers if you’re hungry.”

“No, I didn’t have dinner yet. Do you mind if I bring a plate to Hiccup’s room?”

Valka looked at the things in Astrid’s arms. “Why don’t you go on up and get settled in, and I’ll bring it up to you?”

“Thank you,” smiled the blonde. She ascended the stars and knocked on Hiccup’s door. “Hey, it’s me.”

“Come in.”

Astrid twisted the doorknob and, after putting her bag and pillow down, shuffled over to where Hiccup was sitting with red eyes and a box of tissues and wrapped him in a hug. “You know, no matter what happens, you’ll still have me.”

Unable to hold back his tears, Hiccup broke out into a sob. “I just want to be normal,” he cried, burying his face into Astrid’s shoulder.

“Shhh, it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay,” repeated Astrid, running her fingers through his hair and hugging him closer. By the time Valka came upstairs with her dinner, he had stopped crying and settled back against the pillows, clutching Astrid’s hand for comfort.

“Here you go, Astrid,” Valka said, handing the blonde a warm plate of food. “And what about you, dear? How are you feeling?” She bent down and kissed Hiccup’s forehead. “Do you want any dessert? Or a soda?”

Hiccup shook his head. “No thanks, Mom.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind, just call me. I’ll be back to say goodnight in a little while. Just try not to worry too much, okay? I love you.”

“Love you, Mom.” Hiccup briefly hugged his mother before turning back to Astrid. “I’m just tired of the hospital. And surgery. And being stuck in bed. And I know the kids at school are gonna tease me if I show up with a cane. Or even a wheelchair.”

“They’re jerks if they tease you,” said Astrid, scooping noodles into her mouth. “But as for me, I’d much rather have you alive and needing a little help to walk than have you in your grave. Do you know how worried I was when I heard you were in an accident? And how scared I was when you were in your coma?”

“The coma was only two days,” Hiccup pointed out. “And seeing that I don’t remember it, it’s the least of my worries.”

“But from my perspective, all I could think about was, what if I lose my best friend?”

“And what kind of a friend will I be if I can’t do anything with you besides sit and talk?”

“I like talking to you,” shrugged Astrid. “And besides, you’ll be able to move around more soon. Even if it’s with some help. You’ll adapt.” She took a bite of fish. “You want any of this?”

He shook his head. “I already had some.”

“How about you put on Netflix or something so we can find a show to watch? As soon as I’m done eating, I’ll cuddle with you, too. I put on cozy clothes before I came here just for that reason.”

“What time are you getting up for school tomorrow?” Hiccup asked as he grabbed the remote.

“Six. I’ll try to leave without waking you, but I do have to give a warning that I have to set an alarm for myself.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I I can’t go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Are you still getting your assignments e-mailed to you?”

“Yeah. Right now I’m working on the project for my history elective, so at least I have something keeping me busy.”

“And you’re still making drawings to go with it?” Astrid asked between bites.

Hiccup nodded. “Yeah, wanna see?” He reached over and grabbed his sketchbook from the bedside table. “Here’s Thor and his hammer. And here’s some dragons. And here’s Freja and her cats.”

“They’re awesome.”

“I still have to color them in. I also have to draw Loki and Odin. And I want to do a scene of Vikings sitting in the Great Hall listening to stories. Then I have to get all these drawings on a poster and write a few paragraphs of background research for each of them. What about you? Any big projects you have to finish?”

“I have my AP bio exam coming up soon. That’s kicking my ass right now.” Astrid finished up her food and laid her plate aside. “But it’s okay.”

“And how’s it going with your boyfriend?”

“You mean David? He’s not my official boyfriend yet,” laughed Astrid. “But he is taking me out again on Friday night.”

“Is he treating you good?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have agreed to a second date if he wasn’t.” She snuggled against Hiccup’s side. “By the way, what are we gonna watch?”

“Will you hate me if I put on Vikings? I know how much you love historical dramas.”

Astrid laughed. “Put on whatever you want. I’ll just snooze. But wake me up when this episode is over because I need a shower before bed.” She draped an arm across his middle.

Grinning, Hiccup pressed the play button before tossing the remote aside and hugging the blonde. “Your boyfriend won’t mind us cuddling, will he?” He winked.

Astrid playfully punched his bicep. “He’s not my boyfriend!” she insisted.

“That’s what you say,” teased Hiccup.

“And even if he was, he wouldn’t be any longer if he had a problem with our friendship.”

“Aww, you’d break up with your crush for me?”

“Of course. Friends come first.” She tugged the duvet over their bodies and kissed his tear-stained cheek. “I mean it. No matter what happens, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” returned Hiccup, squeezing her tighter and rubbing his nose against the side of her face. “And thanks for coming here tonight. This is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re allowed to kiss me, you know,” laughed Astrid as she felt him nuzzle her cheek. “You don’t have to do whatever this is.” She reached up and flicked the tip of his nose.

Smiling, Hiccup pressed kisses into Astrid’s hair and against her cheek. “There, is that enough for you?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged playfully. “Maybe one more.”

Hiccup gave her cheek one last kiss before burying his face against her shoulder.

A warm feeling surged through Astrid’s veins as she let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes. “Alright. I’m gonna nap now. Remember, wake me up after this episode is over.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” teased Hiccup.

“Unless you want me to walk around school smelling like a yak tomorrow, you’ll wake me.” She snuggled into his chest. “And Hiccup?”

“Yeah?”

“Everything will be okay.”

#hiccstrid #like heaven #like heaven au #fanfic #my writing #httyd #modern au #modern au hiccstrid #teenage hiccstrid

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piracytheorist · 4 years ago

Text

A Kiss for Good Luck (5/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: Total chapter count went up cause I decided to split the last chapter into two parts. From now on updates will come every Tuesday and Friday.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 2.1k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 5: Emma Swan, October 31st 2000 – October 19th 2011

Emma pulls back at the sound of a whistle next to her.

"Nice catch, Captain," a girl dressed like Cruella de Vil says to the boy, but he just shakes his head, annoyed at her.

"Ignore her," he tells Emma. "She's just pissed that there's too many adults around," he says as he gives the girl a pointed glare.

The girl just shrugs and walks away.

Emma keeps her arms around the boy's neck and they keep rocking to the rhythm of the next song. Just as she's about to ask him for his name, she sees Sarah and the owner of the two villas run to the front door.

"Excuse me," she tells the boy and lets go. "I'll be right back."

She follows the two women outside and gasps when she sees the bright, wild flames burning inside their rented villa. She tries to step forward towards Sarah, but she trips and falls, scraping her arm on a sharp rock on the ground.

She's not bleeding much; she keeps her arm hidden, feeling lucky she has her zombie makeup, as she stands awkwardly by while the villa's owner is venting out her anger over her destroyed property at Sarah. Emma is too tired and too shocked to understand whose fault it is and who will have to pay for the damages.

Everything they'd brought with them was burned in the fire, including Emma's passport. Sarah says they were lucky enough that her own wallet and papers were in her purse. Early the next morning, one Emma dressed as a way too messy zombie princess and one Sarah dressed as a very tired witch with a broken hat check into a hotel, waiting for the embassy to open so they can arrange for Emma's new travel documents.

They're flying back two days later, and after a long, seemingly endless to Emma trip, she looks at the queue at passport control as if it's the final obstacle to a good night's sleep.

Sarah lets her go first, and though the security guard takes a little more time checking her passport than Emma feels comfortable with, he eventually allows her to pass. Emma picks up her rucksack, still slightly mourning the clothes and the other stuff she lost in the fire, crosses over and turns to look at Sarah.

Sarah walks to the checkpoint. After checking her passport, the security guard picks up a walkie-talkie and says something to it while staring at Sarah.

Sarah turns to look at her, worried, and Emma feels a shiver run down her spine.

Two other guards appear and walk up to Sarah, while another one walks to Emma.

Emma freezes; she watches as the two guards lead Sarah away, while she's turning her head back to look at Emma before they urge her through a door. She seems to be calling Emma's name.

“What's happening?” Emma says, still staring at the closed door. They didn't even let her cross. “Where are you taking her?”

“Just follow me. It's a matter of security.”

“You have to tell me! What happened?!”

The guard stays silent and simply walks forward. He leads Emma into an office, offering her water and a sandwich. Emma takes a few gulps of water – her mouth feels dry as sand already – but her stomach is too tight for her to manage even one bite.

Many long, tiring hours later, a woman dressed in a suit approaches Emma. The badge on her chest has that damn seal that Emma had hoped she'd never see again.

They tell her that Sarah's real name is Ingrid, that she'd migrated illegally from Norway eighteen years ago, that she never had the right to adopt Emma, that all her belongings are now part of the state...

Emma is taken away by the social worker before she has any chance to talk to Sarah – or Ingrid, whatever her real name is.

Still processing the unbelievable secrets revealed to her, she's in such a shock when she picks up a few essentials from the place she called home that she doesn't even think to call a friend. She doesn't need her phone book to remember Lily's phone number, but for the few days she stays in a foster home on the other side of Boston, she trembles at the thought of calling her after the news of her adoptive mother being a criminal have hit the neighborhood.

And Lily had sounded so excited to hear all about Emma's first crush. She wouldn't be ready to deal with such heavy news. She wouldn't be able to understand.

It's not long before Emma runs away. Sar-Ingrid has been deported, there's no good at searching for her, and no-one will take care of Emma like she did, despite the secrets she'd kept.

Part of Emma wants to believe Ingrid had a good reason. But it still lead to this, to Emma running away, breaking into and stealing a yellow Bug to sleep in and probably escape with to... somewhere. Anywhere.

Only Emma had never imagined she'd get a partner in all of this, sneakily sleeping in the backseats, all courtesy of stealing an already stolen car.

Neal is okay. Only two years older than her, he's quickly interested in her, but when she tells him no he keeps their relationship strictly platonic – and professional. It's always easier to pickpocket and shoplift when one of them plays the role of distraction.

At first, Emma keeps remembering that boy, dressed as a pirate, who looked at her in a way she hadn't been looked at before. But when the way Neal looks at her slowly starts resembling that, she thinks that maybe there was something about the romance novels Ingrid liked so much. Maybe there's no love at first sight, but there may be love at first shoplift, first trespassing, first sharing of stolen goods...

And when he promises her a home in Tallahassee, she realizes that just a look means nothing. When his lips stay on hers, and kiss them again and again. When she pulls him to the backseat of the car and what does she know, that scene in Titanic was actually realistic. When he nuzzles closer to her after he's fallen asleep.

Tallahassee is a bit of a long way, but she dares to have hope. Maybe Ingrid wouldn't be too mad. She'd committed a crime, too, anyway.

Neal convinces her to pick up some watches he'd stolen and stored in a locker. Fencing them would give them big money. Neal wants to make fake IDs for them and run off, but after seeing Ingrid's drama, Emma simply wants to give up stealing and make their life in Tallahassee. He puts one of the watches on her wrist as a promise.

As Emma waits for Neal to come back from meeting the fence, her imagination goes wild. They'll have a home for themselves. They won't have to hide, to run, to fear anything anymore. Not that she gives one damn about the law – she's just tired of running. She spins her wrist, touching the watch and thinking of Neal's promise.

But again, it's not the first promise made to her that's broken. Though admittedly, getting sent to jail for Neal's crime was way worse than any other.

He left her the car. She holds the swan keychain with its keys in her hand, then looks at the bars outside her cell's window and wishes with all her might that she could find Neal and run him over with the car he was oh so generous to give her.

Even though she's just seventeen years old, she's already heard that prison makes one tougher. Maybe Emma's exterior does get that way after eleven months in there, but she knows that inside she's still a mess. It's not just that the Bug is the only place she's got to sleep. It's not just that she sometimes still resorts to shoplifting to eat. It's also that now the pirate boy's look becomes nothing. Ingrid's promises and comforting words become dust.

People look at her and through their harsh looks she sees anger, hate, disapproval.

So be it. It's better that way. It will discourage her from trusting anyone again.

Finding a messy, exhausting job as a janitor is the luckiest she's been since Neal gave her away to the police, putting the blame for his crime on her. It's tough, and she hates it, but it pays just enough to rent an old studio that's at least got a bathroom and a kitchen.

Tallahassee is a lost dream by now. Not that she dares to dream much anymore.

Sometimes, from far away, she spots old friends and acquaintances and she makes sure to avoid them and pretend she doesn't see them. They never call her, and she's glad. What is she going to say anyway? Those people still have their homes, their families, their sparkly clean criminal records. She's not the Emma they knew, and surely not the Emma they're ready to accept.

The years go by and she feels emptier. Her jobs get a little bit better, her studio apartments a little bit warmer, but her heart never feels lighter.

She's satisfying some needs. One-night-stands are as far as she goes, though. Sometimes she allows herself to spend the whole night with her partners, but there are times that she remembers that pirate boy and she nearly feels disgusted by her life. She's stopped wanting more, she's stopped wanting something deeper. She's stopped simply wanting.

She hates herself for still thinking about Tallahassee from time to time. Even if she decided to visit, only to prove to herself that there's nothing there for her, she can never spare enough money for a simple trip there. Something always comes up; her apartment flooding, her car breaking down and needing fixing; she gives up when in the span of one year burglars break into her apartment twice and empty it from the few items of value she has.

Even ten years after Neal's fake promise, the damn thought about Tallahassee won't go away.

She wonders if it's because it's the last promise she was given. She spent the first years of her life used to nothing being permanent and secure; then Ingrid pretty much spoiled her, gave her unrealistic expectations about the world. But Emma can't find it in herself to blame her. For all her faults – and crimes – Ingrid had given Emma her love. And it's something she'd go to jail ten times for.

Boston is a big city, but it's choke-full of negative memories for Emma, and just for once she wishes she can spend her birthday somewhere and just do something.

Her boss can only give her two days off the week before her birthday. Just her luck.

Still she's got just enough savings to visit New York City. Truly, she just wants some time away from Boston – she hasn't left since she was released ten years ago. She just wants a place where she doesn't have to avoid old acquaintances, she wants something loud, and drinks, and dance. Lots, lots of dance.

The club in New York isn't half bad. Someone's cigarette burns half a lock of her hair, she spills her drink on her dress, and her shoes are killing her – she learned long ago to not trust heels with her luck, and still her flats are uncomfortable – but she manages to have a decent time.

Or maybe it's the drink that's muddling her thoughts. Maybe she's too drunk to stay on one thought for long, if the realization that her bladder has given her its sixth warning is anything to go by.

Of course there's a queue outside the of course only bathroom. She sits down next to a guy who looks as plastered as her. And she swears it's not the drink that makes all but one person disappear from the queue. And then it will be the guy's turn, and then hers... sweet, finally.

However, when the last person comes out, the guy next to her gestures with his hand.

"Go ahead," he says slowly. His eyes are drooping closed.

"No, it's okay," she says, also slowly. "I can wait."

"Go, please. I'm not one to leave a lady waiting."

"Oh, how a gentleman... what gentleman..." Shit, she's very drunk. Shit? Is that what he... is that why he wants her to go first?

He is a gentleman. And with an accent, to boot.

"Can I kiss you?" she says.

The man just shrugs.

As he sits against the wall, she touches his cheek and kisses him deeply.

#Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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