#some of you need a life and to let jamie alone i swear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prentissluvr · 5 months ago

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you'd dance with me? — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ closed ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff, light angst ➖⟢ cw : reader gets sort of stood up, alcohol, reader is tipsy, swearing, (not) unrequited love, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.4K prompt : telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

the man from the bar, james, isn’t your exact type. no one is except for sam, because you’re irrevocably in love with him. but since you can’t have him, and you’re dying to have a fun night without every second being consumed by thoughts of him, how much you love him, and how much you’re sure he doesn’t love you back, you turn to flirting with the nearest handsome single man.

and that means james. james has been nice enough and asked you to call him jamie, because “that’s what his friends call him.” dean gave you an impressed look as you walked past with “jamie” on your arm, and you winked at him, feeling playful and hopeful for a fun night after a tiring hunt. dean grinned back and sam barely gave any indication he noticed you before you settled at the bar and launched into a decently boring conversation with james about his corporate job and the fake life that you spin up for him.

that was over half an hour ago and it’s been at least twenty minutes since james excused himself to the bathroom with the promise that he’d be right back. you know he’s not coming back, but you stay rooted to your seat anyway.

it takes a few more minutes before sam appears, taking the previous man’s spot by your side.

“he left, didn’t he?” you ask, forlorn and not even bothering to look at sam as he settles next to you. sam cringes and nods. you sigh, not having to turn your head to see the movement through the corner of your eye as he confirms your suspicions. sam wonders if he should tell you that the asshole left with someone else. you deserve to know, but he’s hyperaware that it’ll only add to the sting.

he takes in the look on your face and the empty shot glass that you fiddle with, and he immediately knows that you’re much more upset by this than you normally would be. of course, the situation is completely shitty, for anyone, but on any other day, you’d probably brush it off by looking for someone better or heading back to sit with him and dean for some fun with them (if dean’s still around by then). today, you’re alone and at least an extra shot or two in since the guy left, likely making you more tipsy than you intended to get tonight. more than that, the frown on your lips is easy to see and read, far different from the smile you normally give him when you’re pretending not to care. tonight you don't attempt hide it.

“you okay?” he finally asks. you sigh again and surprise him a bit by dropping your head on his shoulder. this kind of touch between the two of you isn’t abnormal, but these days it feels like you’re avoiding it a little, which sort of kills him. it takes you a moment to answer, but when you do, sam’s heart clenches.

“i just wanted to dance with someone tonight.” your voice is sad and candid from the removal of your filter by the alcohol in your system. for a moment, sam is blindingly angry with the asshole that stood you up, and he has to hold back a vehement curse before recentering his focus on you and the sad pull between your eyebrows. he just clenches his jaw and lets you say what you need to before he lets any of the million things he wants to tell you fall from his lips. “he said he’d dance with me when he got back… then he didn’t come back. d’you think it’s stupid i wanted to dance? think that’s why he left?”

now sam’s heart is plain-old breaking for you. he wants to ring the neck of the stupid man that made you question yourself like this, made your voice sound so dejected. then he wants to sweep you up in his arms and hold you close and kiss your forehead and tell you that it’s the sweetest, most endearing thing in the world that you want to dance. tell you that he’ll dance with you every night despite the fact that he can’t do much more than hold you and sway with you. tell you that he’s completely and enduringly in love with you. he discovered that recently, though he figures it’s been true for a long while now.

he has to settle for something a little more tame because you’re upset over another guy, because you're a little tipsy, and because he can’t lose your friendships if those words don’t come across well.

sam puts his arm around your shoulders and you sink further into him. “if that’s why he left, he’s an idiot. anyone in their right mind would trip over their own feet to dance with you. no one in their right mind would leave you– someone like you, sitting here alone,” he says your name so soft and loving that he thinks he’s given himself away until he remembers you’re not picking up on everything right now, “he didn’t deserve you. you deserve a whole lot better than that ass.” i’d be so good to you, he thinks.

“yeah,” you agree, still sounding a little despondent.

“if you– if you still wanna dance, you’ve got a willing partner,” sam forges ahead, anything to make you smile.

“mm, where? james probably left with someone else, for all i know.” he doesn’t like that man’s name on your lips, and maybe you’re a little more drunk than he thought, because you’re not getting the hint as quickly as you normally would. if you were sober and trying not to act upset, you’d say that all with a playful tone to your voice to tease him for offering. right now, you just sound sort of unbelieving.

“you know,” sam responds, keeping his voice just as serious as yours instead of matching that tease like he normally would.

this time you let a bit of humor slip into your voice, but it’s still sort of pessimistic, “what? are you gonna drag dean away from whatever girl he’s found just to cheer up my sorry ass?” sam has to laugh a little at that thought, because it’s a silly image and almost funny how you refuse to see him as an option.

“your ass isn’t sorry,” sam smiles all soft when that pulls a half-hearted snort from you. his voice is still gentle as he finally says, “i’m right here, you know.”

when you tilt your head up to look at his face, and finally, finally, he gets your eyes on his, he almost melts to the floor. you’re looking at him, sweet and soft with your eyebrows pinched together like you’re not sure if he meant it. then there’s that little hint of hope and joy swimming around in the pretty pools of your eyes and it sets his heart afire, just like that. you’ve done just about nothing special, but to him you’ve done everything.

“you’d wanna dance with me?” you say it like you can’t believe it, like that’s exactly what you’d really been hoping for all night and it takes everything in sam’s power not to swoop down and kiss you right then and there. he’d wanna do a whole lot more than dance with you, but it’s a wonderful, glorious, honey-sweet way to start, he thinks.

“of course,” he grins at you, and that’s all it takes to pull a big smile over your features too. that’s just about everything sam could ever ask for, and it brings a flood of relief over him. he just can’t help himself when he asks, “that is, if you’d want to dance with me? i’m sure i’m not your ideal dancing partner for the night, but hopefully i’ll do.”

“of course i want to dance with you, sam,” you say, so blatantly honest that it makes his heart hurt, “and that’s not true.” you won’t explain what you mean by that, so sam stands with you and gladly lets you use him for balance. it’s not true that he’s not your ideal dancing partner? is that what you meant? he certainly hopes so, because that must mean, by default, he is your ideal dancing partner, and you wanted to dance with him tonight, not this awful james.

maybe you love him back a little, he hopes, as your wrap your arms around his middle and let him sway you back and forth, all gentle and smiling.

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sammyluvr · 2 months ago

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you’d dance with me? — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, light angst, reader gets sort of stood up, alcohol, reader is tipsy, swearing, (not) unrequited love, barely edited, 1.4K words. requested ! for my 200+ followers event [ closed ]

prompt : telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)

it takes a few more minutes before sam appears, taking the previous man’s spot by your side.

he has to settle for something a little more tame because you’re upset over another guy, because you’re a little tipsy, and because he can’t lose your friendships if those words don’t come across well.

“yeah,” you agree, still sounding a little despondent.

“if you– if you still wanna dance, you’ve got a willing partner,” sam forges ahead, anything to make you smile.

“you know,” sam responds, keeping his voice just as serious as yours instead of matching that tease like he normally would.

“your ass isn’t sorry,” sam smiles all soft when that pulls a half-hearted snort from you. his voice is still gentle as he finally says, “i’m right here, you know.”

maybe you love him back a little, he hopes, as your wrap your arms around his middle and let him sway you back and forth, all gentle and smiling.

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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Final one for today

This one is a little odder but I feel like a single parent story would be great for Jamie

Like maybe reader is a single parent and is out in the park where the child is playing alone with a football (maybe trying to do some tricks) and accidentally kicks it to far and it hits Jamie (Who maybe is jogging by) jamie brings it over and does some tricks and the kid is like omg can you show me how to do that! reader is like embarrassed but Jamie is like sure so they spend a bunch of time playing football. The kid is a fan of Richmond but tickets are expensive so Jamie invites them to a game (Free) and they get to meet the team and it becomes a regular thing

Jamie is trying to work up the nerve to ask out Reader (He has never dated someone with kids before) and he doesn't want to mess up the relationship finally the child is like please ask my parent out!

I can't wait to see what you do with these!!

Here’s another one that I’ve been sitting on forever! Finally got around to it. And in case you couldn’t tell, I freakin love Keeley Jones. I think she’s great. Enjoy!

if only love were true

Thank god that Keeley Jones is your friend and she promised you’d never have to go stag to a work function.

“Keeley,” you say over the phone, “I need you to be my date for this fancy dinner/gala/thing I have for work next Sunday. I absolutely cannot go alone.”

“Next Sunday?” she says. “Let me check my calendar.”

You wait a moment as she presumably scrolls through her phone, checking her availability.

“Sorry babes,” she says after a long moment, “I’ve got a work thing too. Otherwise I’d totally be down to go as your hot trophy date.”

You groan. “Is there any way you can get out of it? Out of all the things I’ve taken you to, this is the one I need you at the most.”

Keeley’s silent. You can tell she’s thinking. She knows why this one is important.

“Alright,” she says finally. “I can’t go, but what if I sent you with a friend of mine?” She continues loudly over your beginning protests. “He’s really sweet and fit and funny, and he owes me favors pretty much for the rest of his life. You’d have a great time I SWEAR.”

“I don’t know,” you say. “Do you think he can go along with everything? There’s a 50/50 chance it’ll be a shitshow.”

“Absolutely,” Keeley replies without hesitation. “He’s fucking great. Can be a bit of a prick sometimes, but he’s learned how to use those skills for the greater good.”

“Uh huh,” you say. “Right. I’m trusting you on this one, Keels. If he’s as good as you say, I’ll take him. But I really, really need this to be good.”

“Trust me,” she says, “You won’t regret it.”

—

Jamie Tartt arrives at your doorstep, fully briefed by Keeley as to his responsibilities.

Be a gentleman, make her laugh, don’t fucking leave her with Harry.

Keeley showed him pictures of Harry’s instagram so Jamie would know exactly who he is on the lookout for.

It’s funny and it’s weird, but he’s not uncomfortable standing at the door, waiting for some woman he doesn’t even know. He’d do anything for Keeley, well aware that if she’s asking a favor, it’s for a good cause.

This is far out of his usual realm of expertise, but he reminds himself that he’s a person outside of being a footballer. A regular person would be a blind date for a friend of a friend at an awful work function.

Right?

Jamie doesn’t have time to dwell on the normality of this situation because the door is opening and you’re standing in front of him in some long gown that he swears outshines the stars.

“Hi,” you say. “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry about this.”

You call a goodbye down the hall before shutting the door. Jamie assumes it’s to a flatmate or something, whoever the owner of the other car in the driveway is. He just smiles.

“I’ve had weirder dates,” he says. “Don’t worry about a thing, love. Tonight’s gonna be fucking mint.” He offers you his arm.

You take it and feel yourself relax. It’ll be fine.

—

It is not fine.

Harry’s there, and god help you if you don’t want to kick him where it hurts. He’s surrounded by girls, shining that far-too dazzling smile and you’re pretty sure you’re going to throw up. Your grip on Jamie’s arm tightens, and he follows your gaze to your ex-flame.

“He’s fucking old,” Jamie comments.

“Yeah, well, that’s kind of how he gets you,” you reply. “Acts all charming and smart and shit and then next thing you know, you’re in his bed. Soon as that’s over, you’re done.”

“Twat,” Jamie responds with such conviction that you chuckle a little, despite yourself. That is, until Harry sees you and sheds his little entourage as he makes his way over.

“Shit,” you whisper. “How do I look?”

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Jamie replies without missing a beat.

The words are barely out of his mouth when Harry is upon you, leaning in for a hug that Jamie doesn’t allow. You’re grateful for his block as he pretends he was going for a handshake. You don’t want Harry touching you and the sentiment is reinforced as he gives you a once-over and says, “Didn’t expect to see you here, darling. What, are you neglecting your duties for the evening?”

That sentence must have some hidden meaning, because your teeth are bared and it’s gone over Jamie’s head.

“My duties,” you say through clenched teeth, “include being here at this gala because we both work for the same company.”

Harry tilts his head in mock sympathy. “Yes, but if I recall your priorities have… shifted.”

Jamie might be losing circulation in his arm and he may not know exactly what is happening here, but he knows enough. Keeley told him Harry was a right git without really saying why, but he is in no need of an explanation. In fact, he thinks that “a right git,” is too much of a compliment.

Harry turns his attention toward Jamie. “Has she told you?”

Jamie doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but he’ll be damned if he lets this prick win.

“Yes,” he replies forcefully.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Ah, and that’s not a dealbreaker?”

Jamie shakes his head.

“How…progressive of you,” Harry replies, meaning the exact opposite. “You see, I wouldn’t want someone who… well, you know.”

Jamie’s about to say, “No, I don’t know,” and also maybe punch Harry when more people come up, demanding your attention. As you both turn away, Harry calls, “Let me know when you get tired of the immaturity and need a real man. My bed is always open to you.”

Your face is bright red and you think you’re going to bolt. Jamie starts like he’s going to fight Harry and for a moment you wonder if Keeley sent him because he’s a little bit feral.

Unfortunately for Harry and fortunately for you, he spoke a bit too loudly.

You’ll find out later that he was heard by some higher-ups and removed from the premises. However, since that information is not made available to you until the next day, you spend the rest of the evening looking over your shoulder for Harry’s reappearance.

Jamie, god bless him, is a wonderful date. He goes the whole nine-yards, holding your hand, tucking your hair behind your ear, cracking jokes with you and others at your table. He’s making you look good, and feel relaxed in the process. By the end of the night you’re feeling confident and have made a good impression on several people on the board.

You have new opportunities at your disposal, as well as a potential promotion. You put a reminder in your phone to send Keeley some daisies as a thank-you. You’ll send something for Jamie as well.

—

He walks you to your door, ever the gentleman. You thank him profusely for the night, and tell him you’ll be rooting for him next time Richmond has a match. He grins. “You a fan?” he asks.

You laugh. “Yeah, I am. Used to go to every match till… well, I just don’t get out much anymore.”

Jamie grins. “We’ll have to change that, darling.”

Darling.

He says it so differently than Harry. It’s all… bubbly. Not condescending, not designed to make you feel small.

“Good night, Jamie,” you say.

—

You don’t really expect to see (or hear from) Jamie again, except you do. Because he’s texting you.

The content varies, from messages passed on from Keeley to gifs to memes to weird little stories from training. You think you’d like his coaches, even Roy. It already felt like you knew them from all their interviews that you’ve seen, but hearing the behind-the-scenes snippets solidifies the feeling even more. Your chatting is regulated to the early morning and your lunch breaks, as you’re not much of an evening person anymore.

Jamie doesn’t seem to mind, he’s up early to do extra training with Roy and you’re up early to prepare for the day. You enjoy hearing from him at 6am on the dot every morning.

Saturdays are nice, because you don’t have work. Keeley comes over sometimes, but today you’re on the Richmond Green. You’re sitting on a bench, watching a boy kick a small football. You’re so completely absorbed in the way he’s running back and forth that you are startled when a shadow casts over your face.

“Fancy seeing you here,” says a distinctly Mancunian voice.

“Jamie!” you exclaim. “What’re you doing here?”

Jamie points to his trainers. “Going for a quick run. Roy’s out of town, but he still makes me take laps. Fucking mental.” He shakes his head. “What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to reply when the boy with the tiny football comes flying over. “Are you Jamie Tartt?” he asks.

Jamie crouches to his level. “I am. What’s your name, mate?”

“Liam!” he replies. “I have a football like you!”

Jamie smiles. “Good lad. Keep up with the practice, and you’ll be better than me someday.”

Liam’s bouncing up and down, so excited that he throws his ball in the air. Jamie catches it and does a trick. At this point Liam is completely enamored with Jamie, and you are as well. He’s giving this kid his complete attention, making his whole day. Anyone else would have just shooed him off, but not Jamie.

He’s good with kids, your brain yells.

You tell your brain to shut up.

Jamie tosses the ball back to Liam. “Where’s your mum?” he asks. “Might have tickets to a match for you.”

Liam points. Jamie turns to look behind the bench where you’re sitting, as that’s where Liam is pointing. There’s no one.

“Which one?” he asks, turning back to Liam.

“Me,” you say. “I’m his mum.”

Liam climbs into your lap and holds your face in his tiny hands. “Mum, Jamie Tartt says we can go to a match!” he says.

You laugh. “Don’t get your hopes up, love, Jamie hasn’t made any promises.”

Liam settles into your lap, facing Jamie. He can’t see your face or the pleading look you’re giving Jamie.

Please don’t mess this up, you try to say with your eyes. Jamie must get the message because he keeps smiling and asks Liam if he wants to kick the ball around for a bit. You watch them go, dreading the imminent conversation.

—

Liam’s asleep in his little Richmond pajamas. He loves football, and you watch every single match the Greyhounds play. Tickets are expensive, and you promised you’d take him to a real game one day. Truth is, you aren’t sure when that will be. It’s not easy being a single mum, but as you watch Liam’s sleeping face, you know you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

You sigh and get out of the rocking chair. Might as well call Jamie and get it over with.

Please pick up, you pray, and he does; you’re in the dim kitchen lights, poking at a cup of tea.

“Hey!” comes Jamie’s surprised voice. “You alright? Need anything?”

You shake your head even though he can’t see. “No, I wanted to talk about today. And Liam. Harry’s his dad.”

“Figured,” Jamie replies. “Made his comments at the gala make more fucking sense.”

“Yeah,” you say. Harry is a fucking prick. “Harry… he doesn’t have any custody. He’s not allowed near Liam. He also doesn’t pay child support. Or want a child. Or anything, really. He just wants to fuck around and do what he wants with no consequences. I should’ve known better honestly, I’m not even one to go around like that. Figures the one time I do it ends up like this. Not that I’m complaining,” you continue, “Liam is the best part of my life. It’s just hard when I keep losing people because they don’t want him too. Keeley’s the only one who stuck around. Did you know she’s a surprisingly great babysitter? Even kicks around a football in the yard with him.”

Jamie makes a surprised noise. It’s hard to picture Keeley in that exact situation, but not hard to imagine her doing anything that her friends needed.

“Anyway,” you continue, “I get if this makes things weird. You don’t have to get us tickets to the match. Liam’s still pretty little anyway… always taking bathroom breaks and needing snacks.”

“The owner’s box would be perfect,” Jamie blurts.

That isn’t the reply you were expecting, so you’re silent for a moment as he continues, “I mean… It’s easy to get in and out of, Rebecca’s got a fridge and a restroom…People bring their kids all the time. He’d love it. I’d love it,” he finishes.

You’re not sure. This is the longest anyone has ever stuck around when it comes to Liam, and you don’t really want to go to jail for murder if Jamie breaks his heart. All he could talk about for the rest of the day was how Jamie Tartt played football with him. Isaac McAdoo is is number one favorite, but you think Jamie is now a close second.

“Alright,” you say finally. “We’ll be there.”

—

It’s past Liam’s bedtime, like way past, and he’s asleep with his head on your shoulder. Your arms are tired from holding him and your throat is sore from screaming at the Richmond match. Jamie was right, Liam loved it. He wore his McAdoo jersey and got to meet the whole team before the game. You have a picture of him on Isaac’s shoulders, smiling so big. It’s weird to think that he probably won’t remember any of this when he’s older.

You’re waiting in a lobby of some kind for Jamie to come out. You’re leaning against a wall, feeling Liam’s steady breathing as he dreams.

Meanwhile, Jamie’s in the locker room, freaking out.

“Coach,” he says, wearing a hole in the floor, “how do you ask out a girl who’s got a kid?”

“Well Jamie-” Ted says.

“Are there some kind of rules I’m supposed to follow?” Jamie continues, oblivious. “I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to say?”

“I think-” Ted tries again.

“Nah fuck it, I’m just going to ask,” Jamie says.

Ted grins. “That sounds like a good plan, son.”

Jamie smiles back. “Thanks, coach. You always have the best advice.”

Ted shakes his head, still smiling as Jamie leaves the locker room.

—

Jamie rounds the corner to find you half-asleep against a wall near some trophy case, with Liam breathing out tiny snores. He swears that he’s never seen anything more beautiful, and it freaks him out for a moment. It’s…domestic in a way he didn’t ever expect his life to be.

He shakes off the weirdness and walks over.

“Hi,” he says, unable to contain a smile. “D’you want me to hold him for you?”

“That would actually be amazing,” you reply. “My arms are killing me.”

The sight of Liam asleep in Jamie’s arms is enough to make your brain go oh shit. Because, oh. Shit. This boy is going to break your heart if you’re not careful.

“How’d you like the game?” Jamie asks as you begin to walk to the car park.

“I loved it,” you reply sincerely. “Haven’t actually been to a match since this one.” You pat Liam’s back affectionately. “Kid had a great time too. Talked about meeting Isaac McAdoo the entire match. He’s like some football aficionado in a four-year-old’s body, swear down.”

Jamie’s still smiling as he helps you get Liam into his car seat. “What’re you doing the rest of the night?”

You laugh. “Oh god, I wish I could say going to sleep. But I have to meal prep for the week while Liam’s asleep. Otherwise he gets his sticky fingers in everything. Gonna take a solid two hours, at least.”

Jamie hesitates. It’s now or never. “Could I come over?” he asks. “Can’t cook for shit, but I could keep you company.”

You pause. “Jamie- I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

But god, you want it so bad.

“I’m being serious,” Jamie says. “Not trying to mess with you. I like you. Think you’re fucking fit. I like being around you and I liked kicking the football around with Liam. He’s a good lad. I think it’s worth giving a try.”

You look at Liam. He’s still fast asleep, oblivious to his mum’s turmoil.

“Alright,” you say, still not looking at Jamie. “Let’s give it a try.”

Jamie grins and ghosts his thumb across your cheek, making you look at him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says. “So now’s your moment to tell me to fuck off.”

You smile. “Can’t say that in front of Liam anyway,” you say as you crash your lips into his.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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reysdriver · 1 year ago

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Come Home & We'll Talk | J.P.

part 2 of Behind The Venue; James comes home to ask you to stay with him — rockstar!james x fem!reader angst/fluff

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of like sexual acts

words: 0.9k

a/n: sorry this took forever lol, y'all wanted a happy ending so here it is

You hadn’t looked at any social media since finding out about James and Lily, nor did you want to. Giving James a chance to tell you everything was better than surfing through a whole bunch of pity, lies, and other crap on the internet.

You sent James a text—another thing you hadn’t checked since—and told him the only way you were willing to talk about what happened would be if he came home in the middle of the boys’ tour.

You honestly hadn’t expected him to come back at all—let alone the next day—so when he showed up with a giant bouquet of pink roses, you reluctantly let him inside your shared flat.

“I’m sorry, my love. I came back so you could hear that.” He told you, putting the flowers down on your kitchen table.

“No, you came back because you got caught with Lily Evans and I told you I wouldn’t talk over the phone.”

He slumped his shoulders and took off his backpack. Was that all he brought back? He dropped it onto the floor by his feet, but looked hesitant to do anything else.

“But I promise you I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything.”

Ignoring the flowers, you sat down on your couch and James followed, but stayed on the other side in case you didn’t want him to touch you.

“How long has it been going on?” You asked sadly. Any preamble or excuses would just be bothersome, you just wanted to know the details.

“Not long. It was just after a show in Lisbon, I was really missing you and Lily said we should all go out to a bar to cheer me up. We got drunk and did some stuff, but we never had sex.”

He knew that didn’t make it much better, but he was going to drop every detail that could help his case.

“And how many times have you ‘done stuff’ since then?”

“Since Portugal, we haven’t done anything more than make out. It was only a few times, and I felt like shit every single time.” James admitted. “I should have told you—”

“Yeah, you should have.” You told him firmly. You would have felt strong if it weren’t for the shake in your voice with every word. “Instead, you let it get out to the whole world, and I had to find out through a bunch of your fans.”

“I know. I was wrong. I’m a coward, my love. I was going to, but I kept worrying that you would leave me. I need you in my life.”

“So much so that you went and messed around with her?”

“It was bloody stupid, I know. I already told her that anything we had is over, even if you don’t take me back. But, please, I’ll do anything for you to stay with me.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he seemed genuine. Like he really was sorry about what he did, like he really did need you. It wasn’t quite enough, but he was getting there.

“Was she the only one? This was the only time?”

James sensed that you were starting to accept his apology, but he wasn’t going to smile and celebrate yet. “Yes, I promise. This was the only time it’s ever happened and it’ll be the last too.”

“How do I know that, Jamie?”

“(y/n), I will let you cut my dick off if that’s what you need to believe I’ll never do it again.” He used his hands to act out the idea he had just described and it made you laugh through your persistent teary eyes. “I’ll let you keep my hands and feet tied any time I’m away from you?”

“Promise?”

“I promise. We aren’t doing any more shows with her band anymore, and I want you to come on the rest of the tour with us. The Marauders don’t need an opener, but I do need you.”

You already knew what you were going to say, but it was fun to tease him a bit after what he did. “And what if I don’t come with you? Then what would you do?”

“I won’t do anymore shows.” James said seriously. “I’ll stay here with you. I’ll make a million gestures to make it up to you—well, I’ll do that anyways, but I’ll just make a million gestures at home.”

You scooted towards James’ side of the couch and picked up his hand to fidget with it. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

James needed to make sure he heard your mumbled words correctly and his ears weren’t just telling him what he wanted to hear. “You will? Really?”

“Yes.” You confirmed. “Mostly because your manager would be pissed and all your fans would be heartbroken if you missed all those shows.”

You reached up to kiss him softly, thanking him for the apology and explanation.

“And you’re not mad at me?” He asked as you kissed his cheek. “You forgive me?”

“I trust that you won’t do it again and I’m staying with you, but you have a lot to do to make up for everything.”

“I’ll do anything.” He leaned down to kiss you again. It was more passionate than when you kissed him; he knew he had a lot more to thank you for than you did to him.

He let off your lips and gestured to the kitchen with a nod of his head. “And you saw the flowers? You like them?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Yes, James, I saw the flowers. They’re very pretty.”

“Good, ‘cause there’s a bouquet coming from every tour stop for you.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter angst #james potter fluff #rockstar!james #rockstar au #marauders era #rockstar!marauders #marauders fluff #marauders angst #ansgt with a happy ending

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rqgnarok · 1 year ago

Note

the audience needs a part two for the jamie + fan kissing scene PLEASEEEE

your wish is my command, anon (part 1)

Jamie hasn't slept a wink when you finally come home.

It's a quiet thing, your homecoming. To the house you two share and couldn't run away to after you caught Jamie in someone else's arms. He'd called you desperately time after time and all tries went unanswered, followed up by texts begging to please just let me know you're okay. You'd read them all and only answered once before Keeley- who you'd chosen for a safe haven after running away from the club- took your phone away from you.

She'd also refused to speak neither ill nor good things of Jamie. She offered you a hot drink and spare clothes to change into, a comfy guest room, and a shoulder to cry on. The morning after you also had texts from Sam, Dani, and some of the other boys who'd witnessed the exchange between Jamie and said fan, all confirming the version your boyfriend had tried to tell you the night before.

God, you were so embarrassed. That this had happened, that some of your closest friends had been there to watch, that you couldn't believe him when he said he'd never do something like that to you even when you knew how deeply and loyally Jamie loved.

But the image of him kissing someone else was tattooed behind your eyelids. As a consequence, your night was also mostly sleepless, and when you finally come face to face with Jamie you both look like tired messes.

His hair is greasy and unkempt. He'd been pacing the living room and lying on the couch trying to sleep when you came home, so his clothes- the same from last night- are wrinkled and a little smelly. You in return are wearing someone else's clothes, eyes swollen from crying and body aching with the tension this whole thing has brought upon you.

You're both a sight for each other's sore eyes.

"Hi," you say quietly, dropping your bag and your keys on the counter.

"Hey," he answers breathlessly like he can't believe you're here. One blink and you might disappear into thin air like you never even existed. "You- Keeley called. Said you were on your way home... on your way here."

You close your eyes painfully at the correction.

"Still home," you reply, hesitant to get nearer. "The guys called. Told me everything. I-"

"I'm sorry," Jamie goes to hold you again but seems to hesitate when remembering how you'd tried to twist out of his grip the previous night. You close the remaining distance, wrapping your hands around his shirt and clinging for dear life. "I'm so sorry, I swear I would never- I hate that you had to see that, I'm so, so sorry-"

"Baby," you say, and Jamie melts like snow under the summer sun. You can't not touch him, cupping his face, touching his skin. Something inside your chest tightens when he nuzzles your palm with so much force his neck must ache a little. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that, I'm sorry I didn't listen-"

"Why would you?" he says self-deprecatingly, turning to burrow his face into your wrist, the crook of your elbow, and into your neck, hugging you tight. "You- I would've done the same thing, right? If I saw you... if I..."

"I wouldn't," she cups the back of his neck, possessive. Comforting. "And neither would you. I know that now, I'm sorry."

The only person who should be sorry is the fan that thought had some ownership over a footballer they'd never met, that put Jamie in such position no one deserved to be in.

"Missed you," he's crying, you realize when his voice cracks and something wet hits your neck. "All I could think was that I'd never see you again, and I... fuck."

"We're okay," you soothe, running your hands through his hair. He smells of sweat and faint traces of cologne. The scent alone and the thought of never being this close to him again makes your eyes water, too. "We're okay, baby, we're gonna be okay."

You will be, you're sure. After at least 9 hours of sleep in the same bed and keeping each other in the same room at all times, eventually the sting of this entire night will fade. You have to talk, too, about so many things, but right now you only pull Jamie toward your bedroom.

There'll be time for all of that. After all, you're not going anywhere.

#this was so fun i like angst that rips your heart out and then resolves itself #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #part 2 #anon ask #leo writes

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

Text

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter Five: Double Espresso

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader (I used she/her pronouns this time)

Summary: When Jimmy knocks at Michael's door, things are bound to escalate, and Michael makes a decision that is gravely going to affect both of you.

Warnings: ANGST, arguing, violence (brothers hitting each other), mention of seizures, mentions of canon character death, lots of swearing, Mikey is in pain so he's an ass

Word Count: 5k

A/n: I'm sorry for this chapter. I know some of you are going to absolutely hate me for this, but I promise that the next chapter will clear all that pain up and then we have another sweet epilogue chapter, I promise. Also, I did notice that having a clear plan for this miniseries made it so much easier to write, so the chapters are coming so fast after another because I know what I want to write and where I want it to go. If my other WIP’s could only flow like that *sigh* (also this plays after Michael’s release and before Jamie’s death, which might be important to note for some of the dialogue in here)

Read All Other Parts Here…

The sun behind the clouds casts a soft pink glow across the sky. Michael stands in his backyard, watching the sunset from the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame as he takes in the sight of the beautiful evening. He’s holding a cup of chai tea. After tasting the cup you were so kind to bring him, he decided to brew some espresso as well and add that with a little bit of milk and cinnamon. It’s nowhere near as good as yours, but the taste of the Dirty Chai runs on his tongue like ice cream and he feels at home.

He gets to breathe fresh air now, he tells himself, he has a bed, proper food, and coffee, something he couldn’t have in prison. He can watch the sunset from his backyard and imagine what animals the clouds above him could portray. With a little bit of mindpower, he manages to make out a possible turtle and a knight, but he’s not sure how his brain sorts the pompous cloud as a knight; it has a striking resemblance with one of the pictures out of his history books.

Sipping his Dirty Chai, he allows himself to rest for a moment. His lips curl into a soft smile as the wind brushes across his face and through his hair. It’s not particularly cold, not colder than usual anyway, but the oxygen feels good in his lungs, and his skin jumps in glee at the fresh air.

You told him that you try not to let the world get to you. You try to be an optimist and that makes you happier. You’ve made peace with how your life is, even though you still feel guilty for not being able to finish the things you want to, and he envies that. He wishes he could do that. It would make life so much easier, but he also knows that even though you like to pride yourself on how well you’re doing, staying positive is hard and you’re struggling just as much as him. It makes him feel less alone to know he’s not the only one who feels so inevitably stuck. Your situations may be different, but he gets how you’re feeling and he could tell just from talking to you that you understand him without knowing all the details because you can see his pain, and his pain is something you yourself have felt before. Most of the time, you still do.

He has to learn how to live with himself too, just like you. He has to learn that there are things he cannot change, but that those he can change require his full focus and that he needs to be happy with what he has before the yearning for something that’s so far out of reach breaks his heart completely and he will find himself in an even more helpless position. He doesn’t want to go back to being the man he was. He has changed for one person and one person only, and she deserves a father who is a hundred percent dedicated. He needs to be that man and to be that Michael, he needs to learn how to live with himself. Plain and simple. He needs to take a page out of your book and not try so hard to hide who he is just to appease others.

He can’t keep others safe when he’s running himself into the ground, and he can’t get Anna back like that either because then no court will ever grant him visitation rights ever again, and her grandma will have him dead before he can even breach the front door. Although he figures that might happen anyway. After what happened with Allison…

Michael shakes his head. He can’t let these thoughts in, not now, not when the sun looks as ephemeral as it does now. Sunsets are supposed to be relaxing, so relaxed is what he tries to be. Just for this particular moment, he wants to be completely free and not think about anything other than the relief he felt in the safety of your understanding arms.

After the sun has set, he stays outside for a little while longer until he starts getting cold. He returns inside, cleans his now-empty mug, and finds himself once again staring at the napkin you left him. The Sharpie is barely readable anymore after all of his tears landed on it, but the X is still there. There is something so adorable about how nervous you are around him, and it even shows in the notes you left him. He still regrets throwing the cup away, but he has the napkin and he cherishes it like it’s an antique.

A knock on the door disturbs his peace. At least with you, the world around him didn’t exist, but now he’s alone and everything seems to be rushing back in.

Michael makes his way to his front door and opens it. He expected it to be someone from his family, perhaps Birdy because the woman likes to check in on him from time to time or ask him for a cup of tea, knowing he tends to get lonely, and he appreciates her maternal bones, but it’s not her. In front of him stands his brother, Jimmy, and he doesn’t look happy. He never does, but he looks particularly grouchy tonight.

He steps aside and lets him in, albeit hesitantly.

“We need ta talk,” Jimmy says when he’s already halfway through the door.

“About what?” Michael asks, closing the lock again behind him.

He doesn’t want to talk, which is why he hasn’t been answering his brother’s calls, but even if he did, it’s been a long day and he is tired. Whatever Jimmy has to say to him, he doesn’t want to hear it.

He looks around the house with curious eyes.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Are ya alone?”

Michael nods. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Amanda told me somethin’,” Jimmy says. His eyes look dark, almost vacant in the dim living room light.

There are a million things she could have told him, and he likes none of them. His heart stops. The history between Michael and Amanda is something he promised to keep hidden, although his brother isn’t stupid and the signs have never been clearer, considering the rather awkward reunion after he was released from prison. But why would he come to him now? Why would Amanda tell him?

It’s not like Michael has ever been in love with his brother’s wife. He’s not sure why it happened; his feelings were conflicted back then and he screwed up. He always does. He lets the demons in his head guide him against his better judgment, and then shit happens. He’s not proud of it nor does he want to find excuses because what he did hurt not only his brother in a way but his wife and the family he’d always wanted and then lost. He doesn’t want to talk about it because he can’t explain himself – Michael knows he’s an asshole, but saying it to his brother’s face would be even more humiliating than carrying the knowledge around with him.

He tries not to show that he’s panicking. Instead, he moves to the kitchen and grabs both of them a beer. “Oh yeah?” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, although the guilt makes his eyes look particularly sunken in the darkness. “What did she tell ya?”

Jimmy takes one of the bottles from him. He doesn’t look like he wants to punch him just yet, so maybe Amanda didn’t tell him about them. He’s not sure what other secrets she’s keeping, he can only remember the elephant in the room, but his mind is foggy and he tends to forget a lot, especially when it comes to the past. He either pushed all the memories away or his brain decided for itself to forget certain things to protect himself – and the seizures, not to speak about them. His family doesn’t know, but he does, and he hates to admit that they’re happening, but ever since getting out, they have only become more frequent.

His life is a mess and as Jimmy is standing before him now, ready to let some kind of guillotine fall on him, Michael wishes nothing more than for you to be there and take some of the edge off that is pushing him forward toward the abyss.

“Have ya been goin’ out lately?” his brother asks.

The question surprises him. In his mind, he’s playing a game where he’s scratching off the things Amanda could have told her husband like a bad game of bingo, but they’re all over the place.

What does his private life have to do with Amanda and Jimmy? He hasn’t been doing anything illegal. He is trying to go straight, they know that. Everyone knows that. They hate it, but he’s insistent. Michael is certain he didn’t do anything wrong and he isn’t planning on doing so anytime soon.

Maybe it is about Anna? But that wouldn’t connect directly to Amanda and it wouldn’t be Jimmy but his lawyer and maybe Birdy because the woman actually cares. He’s not always sure if his brother cares like he pretends he does because there is a lot of unresolved tension – once again, he thanks himself for being such an idiot and Amanda for being herself – and that’s how he knows that Jimmy would be the last person to knock with news on his fight to get his daughter back.

“What do you mean?” Michael asks with a frown.

“Have ya been goin’ out?” Jimmy repeats his question. “On the town, tryin’ to pick up ladies, that sorta thing?”

His frown deepens. “What?”

“C’mon, ya can tell me, Mikey. I’m your brother.”

He is, but this feels more like an intervention than a friendly chat. It’s starting to dawn on him. While his visits to the café may have gone unnoticed, you came to visit him at work today, the same place that is a front for laundering money for all the Kinsella family business and Amanda was there this morning. She could have seen you. You kissed him across the street from the big windows and she could have easily watched the scene unfold, watched you hug him and kiss him, and Michael indulged in the kiss.

Amanda must have seen you and she went right ahead and snitched to Jimmy that he has been spending time with you. You, the last person who should have to deal with his mess. You, someone normal and authentic. You, someone who has never done anything bad in your life. And you, the person Michael has found solace in and started telling his story to. He didn’t tell you details, but he told you his name and you could figure it all out if you wanted to, and he dragged you into it even though he knew he shouldn’t have.

It’s you Jimmy is referring to, and his muscles instantly lock up. This isn’t about him anymore, this is about someone who has nothing to do with this life, you’ve just chosen to show the wrong man the best kind of affection and he refuses to let his brother or Amanda ruin this for him, let alone ruin you.

“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about,” Michael says through gritted teeth.

Jimmy scoffs. “Did Amanda see a ghost then?”

“If ya told me what this is about–“

“You’ve been seein’ a woman, haven’t ya, Mikey?” he asks.

There it is.

Michael puts his bottle down and stares at his brother. His features darken. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Start this.”

“Start what, exactly? I’m just tryin’ ta have a conversation with my brother.”

“Ya know exactly what yer startin’, Jimmy. Don’t play coy.”

“Amanda saw you kissin’ a stranger and she said ya keep disappearin’. Ya don’t answer our calls. I’m sorry fer gettin’ worried about ya. Yer family, after all and I care about ya, Michael.”

It sounds like he’s blaming him now, which, given the circumstances, feels neither fair to him nor to you.

“Ya don’t know shit about my life!” He hasn’t raised his voice in a while, but when he does, it’s pure anger and a tinge of vulnerability that strain his vocal cords. The glass of the bottle hits the counter.

“Hey,” Jimmy warns, “take it easy!”

He doesn’t want to take it easy. He’s far beyond the point where he can.

“I don’t know how this is any of your business,” says Michael, his eyes still staring coldly at his brother, “but yeah, I’ve met someone, and she’s good ta me. More doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”

“Michael, ya know what I’m gonna say and I hate ta say it.”

“Ya don’t have to.”

“I do ‘cause if this were anyone we know, I wouldn’t give a flyin’ fuck, but tha’ girl–“

“Leave her name out of your mouth or I swear to God–“

“Who is she?”

“Doesn’t matter. I told ya.”

“A normal civilian then,” Jimmy says. “Amanda said she looks like that girl who works at the café down the street.”

Now they know who you are, too. His skin turns as cold as ice, and he can feel his blood boiling in his veins.

“Ya know what tha’ means, Michael?”

“Fuck,” he runs a hand over his face, “Of fuckin’ course I know.”

It means a lot of things.

“If yer not careful, she’s gonna get killed. Ya just got out of prison, yer a Kinsella… The stakes are higher now. The danger is greater. We can’t deny that.”

Michael groans. “Since when do any of ya have the right to dictate my relationships? Especially Amanda. She’s the last person on this godforsaken planet that should get a right to have a say,” he says. “Just because ya want me back in the saddle–“

“Ya wanna know since when, huh?” Jimmy snaps, breaking his assumption in two. “Since ya’ve got your wife fuckin’ killed, that’s when!”

The beer bottle soars across the room, barely missing his face before it shatters against the wood on the wall behind him. Michael steps forward, his finger pointed at his brother, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him into the nearest object. He towers over him, even though he is smaller, and all of the humanity in his eyes has vanished.

Whatever Jimmy’s problem is, he’s moving on very thin ice, and the ice is about to break through.

“Watch yer fuckin’ mouth!” he growls. “Ya can tear me down and attack my life, but Allison and Anna? Ya keep your fuckin’ mouth shut about them! And her–“ Your face flashes in front of his eyes like a Polaroid picture. “Don’t fuckin’ dare compare her to them or what happened before I went to prison because I know.” His voice is barely above a whisper; he sounds almost like a snake. Michael doesn’t have to yell to cause goosebumps.

“I know, Jimmy,” he says, “I know she’s in danger ‘cause of me and this family, but I promised Anna I would go straight now because she’s my daughter and I deserve to get her back, I deserve to make amends, and I won’t let ya or Amanda tell me what to do as if I have anythin’ to do with the shit yer doing anymore. You tryin’ to sabotage my relationships won’t bring me back.”

Jimmy grabs his wrists. “That’s not how it works,” he says. There is a flash of concern in his eyes.

Michael sneers. “How would you know? You have yer wife and yer sons. Ya have everything. You don’t know what it’s like to lose a fuckin’ child!”

“Yer right, I don’t, but you think it’s gonna help Anna if ya start a relationship that might end anyway? Ya want more grief? More heartbreak? Does she even know?”

Michael tightens his grip around his collar. “Oh, fuck off, Jimmy! Ya don’t know me, and yer certainly not the boss of me, ya fuck!”

His spit pearls off his cheeks, and his eyes turn feral. “Are ya so used to gettin’ and corruptin’ what you want that ya can’t see the bigger picture?”

He lets go of him, distancing himself almost immediately. His fist twitches. Jimmy’s face looks so inviting, he has a hard time controlling himself. He tries not to let his words touch him, but he’s got him riled up and he can’t come back down.

“Maybe I should let ya make your own mistakes,” he says. “Let you run into the knife ‘cause ya seem to have a real knack for fuckin’ up everything. When yer little girlfriend ends up dead, maybe then you’ll learn that sometimes, family is right. Or ya just kill her yerself because ya just seem so fuckin’ good at it–“

The loud crack of bone breaking fills the house. Jimmy howls when Michael’s fist connects with his nose, and the bridge breaks clean through. It tilts at the most painful angle without popping back in place. Blood spills from his nostrils. He falls to his knees on the floor, clutching his broken nose.

Michael towers over his brother, his irises fully black now. His chest heaves, his knuckles are covered in blood, and his wrist is already starting to swell.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Jimmy!” he says. He doesn’t even leave him time to recollect himself.

Jimmy rises to his feet, his nose still dripping. He stares at him with a mixture of pride and shock; without another word, he launches at him and strikes his fist across his face.

It’s Michael’s turn to fall onto his knees with a surprised groan. He didn’t get his full nose, but something did break upon impact.

Jimmy huffs, staring at his brother who is now bleeding just as excessively as him. “Gladly,” he says, satisfied with his work, and then he leaves, but not without emptying his beer on his way out and leaving the bottle right at the entrance for him to clean it up.

The door falls shut behind him.

He stays on the floor for a while, feeling the floorboards under his fingers. The worst part isn’t that Jimmy said these outrageous things. Michael would be angrier if he had lied to him, but that wasn’t the case. He said the truth and nothing but the truth. And it eats him alive that his brother is right – the worst part is that he is no good for you and the wisest choice is to let you go before you’re too far in to crawl back out.

And that kills him inside.

He finds himself on his bedroom floor again that night, nursing a bottle of whiskey. He leans back against the bed. The alcohol is slowly hulling his brain into a fog, numbing the pain, numbing his emotions, but most of all, it makes the thought of you go away and turn into bitterness instead. You, Allison, Anna… he wants to forget it all.

His finger ghosts over the ‘send’ button on his phone, but instead of sending the text, he switches to the icon in the top corner and presses ‘call’.

The line clicks. “Hello?” Amanda’s voice sounds from the other end.

“Are ya proud of yerself?” he asks. He’s too exhausted to be angry, but there is a force behind his words that goes beyond being tired.

There is silence before she answers. “Michael,” she says his name oh so softly.

He doesn’t want to hear it. He wants to yell at her and tell her why she told Jimmy and ask her why this is such a big deal and that he hates her and he hates this family and… he hates himself.

“Jimmy just wanted ta talk.”

He scoffs. “I just wanted ta tell ya that ya should be proud of yerself. Ya can tell Frank I didn’t change my mind, but good try and ya should be proud of yerself, truly.”

She ruined something very good for him, and she made him loathe his reflection again.

“We care about ya,” she says. It sounds almost like she’s arguing. “And we want ya to think things through, especially with your history and this family, and you don’t want another person ta suffer because of a risk we couldn’t control, do ya? That’s why I told Jimmy. I just wanted ta help. This isn’t personal. And this isn’t about Frank.”

But oh, it is personal. She lies shamelessly through her teeth and right now, Michael hates her guts as much as he loathes himself, which is a lot. He hates his family. He hates everyone. And most of all, he hates the universe.

“Yeah,” he sniffles, “I did think ‘em through. And it is personal.”

“Michael��“

“Thanks for nothin’, Amanda. Good night.”

He hangs up, leaving behind only silence and the taste of whiskey on his tongue as he continues to stare at the ceiling until inevitably, he passes out right there, still leaning against the bed and praying that his life will soon turn out to have been nothing but a bad, bad dream.

The next day, the café buzzes with activity as customers come and go, their conversations blending into a steady hum. You're back behind the counter, but you're not paying attention. The radio plays a Taylor Swift song and you hum along, scribbling something on one of the coffee cups, waiting for the next wave of people in need of coffee to come through the door.

You're not working with Sarah today, so at least you're not getting smart comments about your floaty state, but his lips... you wish you could should his name at the top of your lungs. You can't get him out of your head – his hands on your body, touching and grabbing everywhere, his lips moving against yours as he breathes all of you in, even your bare soul; it's a picture you wish you could replay like a 3D movie, but the memories come and go in a blur. You need him. You crave him. He's messing with your head and while it's annoying, you can't get enough. You're addicted to Michael Kinsella.

What started as wanting to comfort a man who came to the café in need of an escape has evolved into a physical yearning for his touch, not just getting to know his soul in a way you still haven't been able to, but you've seen more of him the day before and you're proud of yourself for picking apart the walls he's built around his heart piece by piece. You're so happy, you could burst.

Every ring of the bell above the door catches your attention, but then your heart drops when you see it's not him. The longing for Michael begins to feel obsessive, yet you can't deny the thrill it brings you. And then, as if the universe has answered your unspoken plea, he walks in, and your heart stops, only to beat twice as fast.

"Michael," you greet him with a bright smile. "How are you?"

Something is off about him today. You notice there is a cut on his nose and the bridge is starting to turn blue. His hand is bandaged again. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t even try to fake it. His eyes are vacant, almost, like he’s empty inside, the pain having moved deep enough to burn his soul to ashes. The numbness he displays while also keeping a cage locked tightly around himself makes your own heart ache for him.

What happened to him? When you parted ways, you both seemed more than alright. It was awkward, but it was great. Or did you misinterpret something?

“I’ll take a double espresso,” he answers the question you haven’t even voiced yet. “Just a double espresso. Nothin’ else.”

“Are you sure?” you try to sound as cheery as before, but the sight of him has your light dimmed a little. “We have other options,” you say.

He’s not acting on your recommendations today. His stare is blank and his voice sounds harsh when he repeats his order, though this time making it sound like a demand that makes you flinch. Men scare you, that is no secret, but Michael had never scared you before. Up until this point, you never thought it possible, he never struck you as the scary type, but the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine, uncomfortable ones, and he leaves no space for you to argue or be playful with it.

You bonded over coffee before. His demeanor has you second-guessing everything. Did you misinterpret his intentions? Was it all a facade? Why did he come here if he intended to hurt you?

You finish the double espresso with millions of thoughts racing in your mind. Right before handing it to him, you take a deep breath and decide to write your number on the cup. You should have done it long before. He might not want to talk now, but maybe later, or maybe he won’t ever call. You’re not sure why the hope is still there, but it burns brighter than your fear or your anger.

"Double espresso," you call out, hoping he'll stay a moment longer.

Michael approaches the counter, his eyes avoiding yours as he snatches the cup from your hands. Your fingers brush. You keep him there.

“Hey,” your voice softens, “Are you okay?”

He avoids your eyes.

“You seem… different today.” That’s an understatement.

“Yeah,” he says and tears the cup from your hands. “Bad day. I have to go. Thanks.”

That’s what he wants to leave you with? The interaction tastes bitter. He doesn't even spare a glance at the cup. He doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t listen. It's as if he's determined to shut you out, to sever whatever connection you had.

You shoot your colleague an apologetic glance before tossing your apron on the counter and sprinting after Michael.

“Michael!”

At the call of his name, he stops in his tracks. “What do you want?” he asks. He sounds defensive, guarded even. There seems to be an entire army fighting inside of him, against him, and against you.

You’re not strong enough to withhold the storm. Yet, you still take a step forward to somehow bridge the gap that is not just literally but figuratively between you. The space hasn’t been there before, it’s new and you hate it. He won’t even reach your lifeline because he’s swimming out far enough that he can’t reach it. It’s almost as if he’s doing this on purpose, destroying himself, slowly killing himself, and you’re helpless.

“I want to be there for you,” you say, gentle yet determined. “I’m not sure where we went wrong, where I went wrong, but you’re not alone in this. Just tell me what happened and I can try to fix it. I can help you. Either way, I can tell you’re hurting and I don’t want you to push me away. Not after we’ve come so close.”

You’re grasping for straws now.

Michael turns to look over your shoulder. You see a flicker of regret flash up in his eyes, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. Left behind is only an empty shell.

“Please,” you beg.

He studies your face for a moment. He hesitates, he's uncertain, but he's gone. You can tell he's gone; he disappears right before your eyes, slipping through your fingers and this time it feels final. It shouldn't hurt, you don't know him, but it burns like acid on your skin and get through to your heart. It shouldn't hurt, you're not like that, but you can't deny that it does.

As if a wall slams shut, he shakes his head and takes a step back. "Ya don't get it," he says.

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything! It doesn’t fuckin’ matter anyway.”

“Come on, talk to me. Maybe I can help. I–”

“Maybe ya should stop tryin’ so hard all the fuckin’ time.”

You didn’t expect that.

“People might like you more if ya weren’t tryin’ so hard,” he says, taking your heart like a piece of paper and ripping it straight through. “People pleasers are exhausting, and yer no better than tha’.”

Your throat tightens as the words start to sink in. “What?” you whisper.

“Ya heard me.” He turns back around, his eyes leaving yours. “It’s best if we end this here. Fer both of us.”

There wasn’t much between you anyway and yet he wants to take his fist and shatter it like glass hard enough so that you won’t be able to pick it up. That sounds cruel, and it feels even worse. His words remind you of your childhood and the time after that, all the people who laughed at you, who told you that you were too complicated, that you needed to change to fit in, that you would never be good enough, and they remind you of your parents and the friends you’ve lost simply because no matter what you did, it was never good enough. They used your kind heart and destroyed you in the process. Not once did you think Michael would do the same.

“I didn’t realize, I– I’m sorry,” your voice cracks.

He huffs, still not looking at you. “Like I said, yer exhausting,” he says as if he hasn’t done enough. “I’ll stay away from ya from now on. It’s better tha’ way. Try not to please everyone so hard or you’ll end up miserable.” He says your name, but you feel like your ears are underwater and all of this is just a stupid dream. A nightmare, even.

Michael says goodbye and then he’s gone. You’re not sure where to, but he leaves, and you don’t make an effort this time – you don’t follow him. He managed to break your heart with what little you shared about yourself and that is not something you can easily swallow.

Your colleague stares at you when you storm back into the café, but you ignore her. You leave your apron where it is, holding your breath as you hold the tears in the corners of your eyes, your feet carrying you to the back room. And you cry.

You break down and cry because Michael used the power of words shamelessly to hurt you in a way that runs deeper than your skin. You break down, and you curse Michael Kinsella all the way to hell.

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin #no y/n #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #jimmy kinsella #charlie cox #reader insert #butterfly effect #coffee shop au #mini series

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practically-an-x-man · 24 days ago

Note

Here's one: Crossover with Jamie and one of your Marvel OCs? Could be MCU or X-Men

Ooooh, I've got a neat idea for this one!! Thanks for the prompt!

____ Godly Wagers

Word Count: 2.2k Content Warnings: some swearing but that's about it ____

"Y'know, something sleek." Jamie said, "Maybe silver? And purple- like a reddish purple? She likes that color."

As she spoke, Jamie wandered the lab, haphazardly fiddling with objects she found on the various tables and shelves. It set Ophelia's hackles up - she hated people touching her things without permission, especially when it came to her lab - but she did her best to keep a pleasant face. After all, Jamie had saved her life.

It was her bad knee again. She'd get used to it eventually, she knew she would, but for now Ophelia still struggled with having that as a weak point. And when it came to the battle, well... she shouldn't have been fighting alone, not while the wound was still healing.

So here she sat in her lab, her knee propped up and iced, jotting down notes about a new project- because apparently, fair repayment for saving someone's life was a new leg.

It was worth noting that Jamie Zhang had two perfectly healthy legs.

"You realize I'll need specs if you want this thing to actually fit her," Ophelia pointed out, "I can make an adjustable cuff for her residual limb, but I'll need to balance the height and weight to what she's used to."

"Well... yeah," Jamie agreed, though she seemed more preoccupied with a handheld device roughly the size and shape of a Geiger counter. She pressed a button on the side and the little device let out an earsplitting shriek, loud enough to make the both of them flinch. "Oh, shit-"

Jamie looked ready to smash the thing when it kept screeching, and Ophelia desperately stuck out a hand before she could.

"Just give it here," she huffed, and promptly shut off the machine with a single flick of her thumb, "It detects jump points between the multiverse - spots where the energy barrier is thinner, or overlaps closely with the energy barrier for another universe. I've been in and out so many times now, that thing goes nuts if you turn it on in here."

"Huh." Jamie muttered, "Oh- and it has to be magic-compatible. I'll give you a diagram of the runes."

Before she could stop herself, Ophelia let out a sharp, dry laugh like the snap of a firecracker.

"Magic is bullshit."

"You went flying through the multiverse and you don't believe in magic?"

"Magic implies something that cannot be achieved through any other means. Something that has no other conceivable explanation or scientific equivalent." Ophelia argued, "Which just isn't true. Anything that can be empirically observed naturally has a rational explanation."

"Aren't you Jewish?" Jamie pointed out, "Doesn't believing in a higher power kinda negate the whole... conceivable explanation bit?"

"Which is exactly why I said anything that can be observed," she replied, "I don't seriously believe that Moses parted the seas or that the lamp oil magically lasted seven nights instead of one. Most of that is just storytelling- like Arthur pulling the sword from the stone, or Odysseus shooting an arrow through twelve axeheads. It's not meant to say that these things actually happened some time in the past, it's more just... a way to generate hope and entertainment to help people through the hard times."

As she spoke, Ophelia found herself fidgeting with the clutter on her desk. Faith was a difficult thing for her to articulate, even to herself. Placing it into words for another person, trying to translate so many nonlexical thoughts into verbal descriptions, was even more difficult. Especially not when she'd stumbled into the conversation unexpectedly like this. She wasn't sure she could ever really put words to it, not completely.

"So I believe that our evolution stems from single-celled aquatic organisms which eventually led to early hominids, and I believe that my ancestors did flee Egypt after years of slavery," she continued, "But I also believe that most of that overt 'magic' is really figurative language for the sake of the story, and anything left over is natural phenomena that they didn't have the scientific means to understand at that point in history."

"You're such a scientist," Jamie huffed, somewhere between exasperated and amused, "I'm a demigod. My mother was a god. That's real. You can't logic your way out of the fact that magic exists."

"Oh, I certainly believe power exists," Ophelia conceded, meeting Jamie's jade-green eyes with her own shrewd dark ones, "And maybe that power comes from means science hasn't put an explanation to yet. But that doesn't make it innately magical. What's the tallest mountain in the world?"

"Everest?" Now Jamie just looked confused. Ophelia tended to have that effect. Sometimes her brain made connections her mouth didn't quite keep up with. But she pressed on.

"Right. And what was the tallest mountain in the world before Everest was discovered?"

Now she looked like she was catching on. She was quick, Olly would grant her that much. Stubborn, but quick.

"Still Everest."

"Right. Whether or not it had been discovered, the mountain itself always existed. That's the interaction between science and comprehension. The phenomena exist, and eventually we find a way to categorize them. Calling it magic is just a way for people to convince themselves it's something they can't understand. Hell-"

Ophelia smacked her palm on her desk with a sudden bang!, the idea striking her like a bolt of lightning.

"I'd put money on it. Anything you can do with your 'magic', I could do with logic and engineering. Try me."

She officially had Jamie's attention. The promise of a challenge, a wager, had put a mischievous spark in her eyes, and she'd finally stopped picking through the clutter of Olly's lab. She lifted an eyebrow, officially intrigued by the idea.

"Hundred bucks?"

"Sure. My wallet's in the pocket of my coat- the gray one, not the blue one. Excuse me if I don't get up," Ophelia said, gesturing at her swollen knee.

Another person might have hesitated, she thought, if only out of the social politeness to not go reaching into another person's clothing for another person's wallet, but Jamie didn't waste a moment. Within moments, she'd pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her pocket, joined with five twenties from Ophelia's wallet.

"You've got a bet." Jamie said, with a smile like Ophelia had just signed her very soul away.

She had a feeling she knew which "god" this one stemmed from, if her words were to be believed.

But Ophelia had never ducked away from a good wager, especially not one she was so intent on winning.

"Whenever you're ready, godling."

Jamie reached over Ophelia's shoulder and snatched a pair of needle-nosed metal forceps - normally used for making micro-adjustments to wiring or other components. She held the forceps pinched between her thumb and index finger, green eyes gleaming.

"We'll start things off easy, brainiac."

The tips of Jamie's fingers turned a brilliant blue, and frost crept up the metal forceps in a fine white film. She tossed the forceps on to the surface of Olly's desk, watching the frost begin to melt. Ophelia just scoffed.

"Please. This is just taking me back to my eighth-grade science fair." she said, and snapped her fingers for her actuators at the other side of the room, "Ammonium chloride and a beaker of distilled water."

The machines jumped to action in a heartbeat, opening cabinets and depositing the materials on Ophelia's desk in a flurry of motion. When the chaos died down, Olly calmly opened the container of ammonium chloride and tipped a few spoonfuls of fine white crystals into the beaker. She gave the solution a quick stir, then picked up the forceps and touched the tips to the outside of the beaker.

Much like Jamie's attempt, frost quickly began to gather on the metal's surface and creep towards Ophelia's fingertips. She couldn't help but fire Jamie a smug look.

"Point one for chemistry." she said, and waved a hand for her actuators to begin clearing the materials away, "Got anything else?"

Jamie just rolled her eyes.

"That was just the warm-up round," she replied, "Didn't want to humiliate you on the first go. Try this one on for size."

She lifted a hand at Ophelia's coffee mug (black enamel, with the chemical formula for caffeine etched on the side), and a second mug appeared right beside it. Experimentally, Ophelia brushed her fingers across the illusion, and watched it disperse like a cloud of fog before re-forming.

"Holography's been around since 1948." Ophelia said, already rifling through the drawers of her desk. She'd had plenty of time to tinker as her knee healed, and yet had spent very little of that time organizing her creations. Finally she found what she was looking for, buried in the bottom of a drawer: an old cell phone, reprogrammed and retrofitted with what appeared to be a large, dome-shaped camera.

"Let's hope this thing still has a charge..." she muttered, mostly to herself, as she tried to power it up. Hologram illusions could be made through any number of means, the simplest being a pyramid made of cut-up CD cases (that had been another, much earlier science fair project), but this little device would be much more impressive.

Finally it powered on, and the screen bloomed with a 3D-modeling interface. Ophelia tapped a few icons, then directed that odd dome-shaped camera at her coffee mug. Red light danced across the mug and the desk below it, mapping the object in a laser grid, and it appeared on the screen alongside a list of specs. Olly tapped a second icon, and the device projected an identical mug onto the desk beside the first.

"Voilá," she said, voice dripping sarcasm, "And I'll do you one better- I can adjust the specs, size, color, you name it."

She fiddled around for a bit, shrinking the illusion to half its size and shifting the color to a vibrant lime green. She returned it to its original appearance a moment later and shut the machine off, turning her face to Jamie with yet another victorious look.

"Hm. Alright." Jamie muttered, "Match this."

And with that, she vanished.

She appeared on the opposite end of the lab, near the cradle that held Ophelia's actuators. The machines flinched at the sudden appearance, and Ophelia waved a hand before to call them off before they flew into an attack. Jamie looked unperturbed- no, she looked proud, like she thought for sure she'd cemented her victory.

"You're really gonna make me get up?" Ophelia sighed, but set aside her ice pack and pushed herself up out of her chair. Her bad knee protested the movement immediately, but she shrugged the pain aside as she limped over to her actuator cradle.

The vest clamped around her body with a comforting pressure, and her actuators lifted her to the other side of the lab. The upper claws rose and began to give off orange sparks, weaving a rift between worlds in much the same way she'd once seen that so-called wizard do with his rings.

Ophelia stepped into the other world - the same in shape but completely devoid of other people, a world she'd begun to use for large-scale storage or experimental testing - and allowed her actuators to lift her fifteen feet across the room. Another portal, just as quickly, and she was back in her own lab. Ophelia spread her arms and gave Jamie a haughty mock bow.

"That wasn't teleportation."

"Manipulating dimensional planes to cause an intentional displacement of matter," Olly fired right back, "It's the same in principle, just different execution."

"Bitch, please. You know it's not." Jamie argued, "What I did was instant, and occurred entirely in the same damn universe. That multiverse shit is cool, sure, but it's not teleportation. I win."

She reached for the pile of bills and Ophelia swiveled on her actuators.

"Hey- hang on, now." she snapped, "Just because I haven't done it yet doesn't mean it's impossible. We thought multiversal interaction was scientifically impossible until last year, and I cracked that too."

"Fine. If you crack teleportation, I'll give these back." Jamie agreed, brandishing the wad of cash.

"You're expecting me to recreate The Fly for a hundred bucks? My own hundred bucks, no less? You're kidding."

"Well, either you crack it or you don't. And if you don't, I win. Simple as that."

Ophelia just rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the prickling in the back of her mind. Jamie had to know exactly what she was doing, at this rate: the idea had wormed its way into her head, it wasn't even about the hundred bucks anymore. It was both infuriating and oddly exhilarating. She'd been looking for a new big project, now that her multiverse tech was largely solidified.

"Fine. Keep the cash." she muttered, "I'll get it back from you soon enough. And find me Maya's measurements for that prosthetic you want."

Boy, Peter was in for a surprise when he got home.

#my friends!!!#negative-speedforce #answered asks #my writing #my ocs #ophelia octavius #revan ocs #jamie zhang #crossover au #crossover fic #ficlet #oneshot

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lushlovers · 2 years ago

Text

Jamie, J Burrow

summary; he just misses her.

warnings; heavy angst, alcohol abuse, swearing, mentions of bars and driving under the influence, talk of loss of loved one's. all around sad stuff.

word count; 1k

note; this is inspired by one of my favorite songs at the moment, Jamie by Zach Bryan ft. Charles Wesley Godwin, feel free to listen as you read for the best experience. i did cut it short because i'm not killing off joe, sue me.

please let me know if i missed anything in the warnings and if any of the warnings mentioned above may even slightly trigger you, please skip this work. there will be a fluffy one-shot of the burrow's coming soon for those who choose not to read. <333

There ain't much a war when it's 4:34 With the man you were before that bar door.

This Joe wasn't who he used to be. Drowning his sorrows in whiskey or any hard alcohol he could get his lips on was never his way of grief. Never had he ever been such a heavy drinker in all of his time in this world. He doesn't even like to drink. But love drives people to do the unimaginable, unfortunately for him, Joe Burrow was no exception to that fact.

No one loves you enough to give you a ride and your cars sittin' right outside, Oh, Jamie

Given the time no one was answering his calls and he wasn't in the right might set to find any friends who were willing to go with him and be the designated driver. Joe's made a few mistakes in his life, drunk driving was never on the list of those. He learned from a young age that was never a good decision.

Keep your tires between the ditches And your eyes peeled on the road.

Unknowingly, Joe swerved the expensive BMW that used to belong to his wife, driving it gave him a slight sense of relief. He used to always drive it, never alone though, she always in the passenger seat. She never liked being away from him, always loving just being in his presence.

There's two more minutes before you're back home.

The bar he chose to drown his feelings in drinking at was just seven minutes from their his expensive home. Going back there was always dreaded, especially knowing the one he once loved wouldn't be snuggled up in his clothes waiting on his arrival. He's not sure how he's driven the five minutes, his minds more clouded by liquor than it's ever been.

Don't 103 feel so free? You always loved the revelry Oh, Jamie

His wife was always one to get him out of his comfort zones, introducing him to new things. One thing she could never get him into was partying. She always used to tell him about the parties she had went to when they were back in high school, Joe never could imagine jeopardizing his nearly spotless career, so he settling for story telling.

The flashing red and blue in a cracked rear view.

"Goddammit," he murmured, pressing his foot down a bit harder as the cop's light flashes along his clammy face. As if his life could get anymore difficult, the last thing he needs is a DUI charge against him. The cracks of her rear view mirror obstructed his line of sight ever so slightly, he remembers the call he got from her stressed about the crack in her mirror. He was quick to reassure that it was the cold or something.

He remembers the smile he once owned.

Joe used to be the happiest man on the planet. He had a great upbringing, the perfect wife, a baby on the way, anything a man could ever ask for and then some. There was almost never any complaints from him about anything. He was simply content all the time. He used to smile until his cheeks would hurt, now the only expression he made was when the burn of his drink of choice hit him.

But he ain't gonna stop for any cop, from here to damn near Wichita County.

If he gets caught in this act. his excuse'll be that there was no where to pull off. There's no way he could pull him over in this area, maybe he'll understand how close he is to the neighborhood? What Joe couldn't seem the grasp was the fact that he was driving so dangerously, the cop who saw him to he was out of his mind and needed to be stopped immediately.

I'll go tonight, boys. I don't mean no harm. I just miss my lovin' lady and layin' in her arms. (2x)

The only thing his mind was on was her and the baby girl who he never got to properly meet or hold. His girls.

'Cause there's a tombstone hidden in a place that he don't visit.

Every time he took the tiny dirt road back to the secluded place he chose to lay them, his heart broke impossibly more. Life could never be the same for him, everyone knew it. The funeral gutted him from the inside out, seeing her their completely lifeless made his breath catch. Panic set in pretty quickly and all he saw was black.

Where the love of his life was laid to rest, he'll make it there by dusk that is where they'll draw their guns, Oh, Jamie.

He felt heavy, like he was carrying burden on him at all times or maybe he was the burden. His eyes blurred with tears that he was quick to wipe away. The blue and red lights followed him the entire way to his destination, no shock there though.

Cause this life ain't worth livin' if the love that you've been given is taken before you are.

There was nothing left for him. No one to come home to, no one to call his own, no one to run his mouth about to his friends. nothing, just a canyon in not only his heart but his soul. Nothing could fill this, no amount of booze or therapy could fix the pain he felt at this time. He's tried it all and failed every single fucking time.

Now Jamie is dancin' and spinnin' around his baby in the stars.

He had this analogy. That they were watching him, dancing around in the clouds and painting every sunset to keep him going. Even the simplest of tasks felt impossible in his situation.

I'll go tonight, boys. I don't mean no harm. I just miss my lovin' lady and layin' in her arms. (2x)

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joe burrow #joe burrow x you #nfl #nfl fan fic #lushlovers #joe burrow oneshot #joe burrow angst #joe burrow fan fic #lushlovers fic #im so sorry for this #tw drinking #angst tw

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pathfinderofandromeda · 2 years ago

Note

jerin in the glass trap instead of jamie and kate…

this prompt is undeniably evil, but i might have enjoyed writing it?

they're going through the absolute most, except i can promise that within ten minutes, jamie throws du’met off the roof, and he doesn’t get up this time :)

i hope you'll forgive me...and my embellishment of the amount of time they have before du'met comes back.

you can check out my other work on AO3...username: skyllianspectre

(trigger warning for the DIM glass trap and all that entails, as well as heavy angst and asthma/panic attacks)

Despite Jamie’s best efforts to avoid it, they end up getting separated.

It’s difficult to keep an eye out for moving walls while running, as it turns out, and now they’re here, in this fucking trap, and Jamie swears she’s gonna kill that son of a bitch.

“Try to stay calm.” She tells Erin, but then the wall starts moving.

She tries to break the glass on her own with no success, then tries the screwdriver.

It’s a useless pursuit, and that’s when she sees the button.

The reverse symbol above makes the function obvious, and Du’Met must really be crazy if he thinks she’d even consider hurting Erin, let alone go through with it.

She’s already carrying the weight of Charlie’s apparent death on her shoulders, whether she could’ve done anything more or not, and she won’t - no, can’t - carry another.

Especially not her.

Fuck that button.

She won’t even stand near it.

“J - Jamie?” Erin asks, incredibly fearful. “What is that for?”

“Some shit I’m not doing.” Jamie answers resolutely, shaking her head.

She knows she can stand here and scheme for as much time as they have, but it’s pretty clear that they’re not going to think their way out of this.

Somebody is dying here, and Erin seems to have realized that it’s not going to be her.

“Jamie. No. You can’t.”

“This is exactly what he wants.” Jamie says, ignoring her implication and trying to keep it together. “You know I won’t hurt you. You’re not changing my mind.”

Erin can’t even look at her.

Her crying is uncontrollable, and she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Even if Jamie lets her live, who’s to say she’ll make it?

She’s done nothing but hinder the crew, and she can’t fathom the idea of going on without her, especially if she feels responsible.

“The others...they need you.” She insists, and Jamie looks almost offended.

Erin isn’t a burden, and the fact that she thinks she is is nauseating.

“Listen. Please.” Jamie pleads, voice trailing off into nothing, and Erin is completely devastated by the sound. “This isn't your fault. Understand?”

Erin sputters to say something, anything, but it won’t come out.

The sight makes Jamie pause for a second, then completely break.

“I love you.” She admits, glass closing in, and Erin looks at her like she’s committed a crime. “Just...don’t watch, okay?”

She turns away as told, knowing from the way Jamie’s said it that it’s sacred, and now it’s going to haunt her.

Jamie loves her too, and the sound of her scream is deafening.

---

It’s the longest collection of seconds in Erin’s life before she hears glass shattering, a thud, and then, unbelievably, Jamie’s voice.

“Erin.”

It’s hoarse and shaky, but when Erin forces herself to turn back around, expecting some sort of auditory hallucination, she finds it undeniably real.

Jamie is on the floor a few feet away, talking, and breathing and alive.

She drops to her side almost immediately and helps her sit up, backing against the wall, but when she opens her mouth to speak, there’s no air left in her lungs.

“Hey...Hey, your inhaler.” Jamie murmurs, tapping Erin’s hand lightly, and she appreciates the reminder even though she’s sure Jamie’s gone mad.

There’s no way in hell she should be doing the care-taking right now, but it’s her, so of course she is.

Erin fishes into her pocket with shaky hands and sits next to her, taking a puff and exhaling painfully with the sound of “I love you” bouncing around her head like a pinball.

She gasps her way through several breathing cycles, Jamie’s hand sitting atop hers, and finally, mercifully, there’s some sense of control.

“Okay?” Jamie asks, only realizing how stupid it sounds once she’s said it, and Erin could almost laugh.

Jamie has no idea how good she is.

“You’re insane.” Erin responds, and then she’s kissing Jamie hard.

It’s messy and more than a little desperate, but Jamie only lets herself kiss back for a moment before breaking it.

They’re both incredibly vulnerable, tears still streaming down Erin’s face, and Jamie isn’t about to take advantage.

Instead, she pulls Erin into her arms, letting her bury her face in her neck while she rubs at the small of her back.

There’s some comfort in the way their heartbeats synchronize, but it doesn’t last for long.

Du’Met’s gonna be pissed, and Jamie’s brain is already trying to figure out what’s next to protect them.

No time to process.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Erin eventually whispers between sobs, starting to quiet down just a little, and Jamie has no idea what to say so she jokes.

“I mean it worked out - ”

Erin squeezes her tightly to cut her off. “Jamie...I thought...”

“I know.” She replies, a jagged breath ripping through her entire body with the weight of it all. “Me too.”

---

After what feels like an eternity, the door in front of Kate creaks open.

Her heart drops in her chest when neither of them appear, and upon stepping closer, she hears crying.

It’s Erin, and Kate's thoughts start to race.

Jamie.

Shit.

Her hand flies to the amethyst crystal in her pocket, taking a deep breath as her stomach twists violently.

They need to keep going, but she can barely steel herself for what she’s about to see.

Upon entering the room however, there is no massacre.

Kate finds them both sitting against the wall, seemingly un-injured, and her relief is palpable.

Jamie acknowledges Kate with her eyes, holding Erin close and repeating something inaudible to her under her breath, and Kate can’t help but feel like she’s intruding on them.

She stares for a long second, unable to speak, and then she hears Jamie tell Erin that she’s here.

Her voice is completely wrecked, and it makes a cold, horrible feeling seep through Kate’s bones.

Something terrible happened here.

“Are you guys okay?” She finally manages to get out, and Jamie nods slowly, looking unsure.

“Yeah...yes...we are.”

The way it hangs is uncomfortable and Kate tries her best to focus. “He’s not far. We should - ”

“Yeah.” Jamie agrees, urging Erin gently that they need to go, and only then does Erin move, separating herself.

Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and it makes Kate’s heart ache.

“Let me help.” Kate offers, holding her hand out to Jamie, and she takes it to get to her feet.

She’s clearly trying to reset, to put this away to worry about later, and Kate has no idea how she does it.

She turns back and grabs her screwdriver from the floor, then reaches for Erin.

“C’mere.” She breathes, and Erin does, taking her hand and standing up beside her, a bit wobbly.

Kate glances between them, but then there’s shuffling in the hallway.

God damn it.

“Come on.” She says anxiously, leading the way out of the room, and then Du’Met is there, staring them down.

“Stay close to me.” Jamie tells Erin, making sure she’s in front of her before they turn to run, and Erin clings to the words.

She’s not letting Jamie out of her sight.

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queenofbaws · 1 year ago

Note

You know what I think we need right now? Some (parent)s shenanigans up in this joint! Because those kids of theirs had to have gotten their penchant for trouble and mischief from someone after all fhdkdldhd

(and also I miss them 😢 so consider this also a request for some actual non-toxic middle aged old people for the first time in forever fhdkskdbd)

"We're going to just have to own up to it," Jamie said through the mesh cage of her fingers, "I think that's the only thing we can do at this point."

"Uh huh, great idea, let's just stroll into the kitchen and go, 'Hey Bob, hey Linda, yeah, so, sorry about the sculpture in the hallway, sure hope it wasn't too - oh what's that, it cost $40,000? - well sorry, it's seen better days...also, sorry about your daughters, let's get this memorial dinner on the road, huh!'"

As was so often her wont, Colleen stepped between the two of them and in front of the console table, fretting with the piece of ceramic that'd broken off the rest of the sculpture. "Let's think this through before running around like chickens with our heads cut off," she said, keeping her voice conspiratorially low, "I think we can probably balance everything well enough that no one will notice until - "

The door to the kitchen swung open and the three of them froze, each wearing a similar grimace of guilt, though Scott would swear as he stood there that the degree of that guilt varied slightly between them. He took the situation in, their faces, the sculpture, the awkward air hanging like fog, then made the decision for them, opening the console table's drawer and setting the sculpture inside; "I've been making the worst small talk of my life for the past ten minutes," he said as he silently slid the drawer shut, "if I'm alone with them for one more minute, I'm going to crack, so please just get in here."

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

#love-fireflysong #six sentence weekend #queenie writes supermassive #the almosts #the parents #i-im sorry was that a veiled reference to the hacketts there??? are you...are you SUGGESTING the HACKETTS are TOXIC?????????#wow. wowwwwwwwwww.#heheheehehe i miss the significantly less problematic middle aged crew too 🥹

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whimsical-roasting · 1 year ago

Note

Hear me tf out okay.. I’m a sentimental sop so I’ll tell you songs that I would slow dance w Jamie [done in a level of detail that no one fucking asked for]

Sweet Nothings by Taylor Swift ‼️ (particularly these lyrics:

They said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

relentless. if Jamie could describe the media as something then it would be relentless. I mean, before, when he was a prick it made more sense but he knows how committed they are to changing their favourability on you - just look at how they praise Sam and then turn on him when he calls out political agendas. either way, one thing is for certain, the media isn’t your friend so don’t take their praise too highly.. and more importantly.. don’t take their criticism too personally.

its hard though. day in and day out trying your best, just to read some goofy shit that doesn’t matter but suddenly his shoulders are slumping and his foot feels heavier with each step.. until he comes home to you. a warm smile and those hands that always cup his face in a way that makes him wanna drop all his strength and just let your hands hold him up.. he doesn’t do that of course, but if he could, Jamie swears he would.

“hi, sweet boy, long day?” “like yer wouldn’t fuckin believe, love”

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

so you guys sway in each other’s embrace, at 1am, confessing all the things in life that make you feel like no matter what, nothing seems to be enough. Jamie nods thoughtfully at your words, hates that you got things in your life that drain you and make you question yourself, just like he does. cause by god, it’s a shitty feeling, yea? but with every little stressors or confessed inadequacy from either of you, the other jumps quick to mumble some affirmation..quiet and honest, genuine… just sweet nothings

“you’re doing enough” // “i couldn’t be more proud of ya” // “fuck em.. i mean it baby, fuck em” // “jamie, i’d tell you every single day if that’s what it takes to remind you.. you’re a good person, with such a good heart, my love” // “angel it’s fuckin killing me to hear you sound so sad, please give yourself a break.. i think you’re- i couldn’t be more amazed by ya if i tried”

Simply The Best (cover) by Billianne (oh my god so this cover is slower and so romantic to me ughhhh and it reminds me of Jamie so bad)

Speak a language of love like you know what it means

easy. you and Jamie love each other like it’s the easiest thing in the world. which, is surprising to you both because you both question how hard it must be to love you. and love isn’t easy, relationships take effort for sure.. but here’s this person.. your person, and my god, they treat you in such a manner that makes you think they were put on earth with a bucketful of extra love and eyes that light up when they find you in a crowd.

Each time you leave me, I start losing control

You're walking away with my heart and my soul

I can feel you even when I'm alone

Oh baby, don't let go

Jamie needs you close. even when you’re dancing in the living room, bodies pressed together, Jamie wants to be closer. he can feel your head on his shoulder as he’s trying to memorise the way he holds your hips - not just the way your skin and curves feel, but also, the way his hands fit on your body.. the way his thumb is here but this ring finger rests over there tapping lightly along with the music

i can see you and Jamie slow dancing and mumbling the words of the chorus to each other, like line by line, looking into each other’s eyes.. “you're simply the best” “better than all the rest” “better than anyone “anyone I've ever met” (you both probably say this line)..

jamie saying “i’m stuck on your heart” cause you’re… simply the best person he’s met?? and you responding “I hang on every word you say” because how could you not be?? with his lil goofy accent and his personality

Hold My Girl by George Ezra (this is indulgent for when YOU have a bad day)

Jamie tries to cheer you up by playing the song and holding you close as you sway. He holds your face and brushes his thumb over your cheeks, mouthing “I've got time, I've got love. got confidence you'll rise above, give me a minute to hold my girl”

Bonus:

- All My Love by George Ezra (way more upbeat but I love the idea of twirling around and giggling as you both try to sing the words in that deep and low voice like the singer does)

- She’s Enough by Gareth Esson (this song is so simple but i fall to my KNEES. m y. k n e e s.)

Thoughts on Jaime’s favorite 1am slow dancing in the kitchen song?

Right now all I can think of are Taylor swift songs… like Jamie definitely gives New Year’s Day vibes (and I’m currently fighting the urge to write a fic) like the softer side of love after the party’s over and you’re both still there and still very much in love and he’d just twirl you around in the kitchen while you’re supposed to be cleaning up

I’m gonna turn this over to @whimsical-roasting because every time she says a song reminds her of Jamie it’s perfect and @sokkigarden because her Taylor Swift knowledge even surpasses mine <3

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader #i love this

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

Note

Omg I'm loving your response to my prompts!! thank you

I have a few ideas (You don't have to do them all) just throwing them out there to see what sparks ideas!!

I love secret admirer stories (I know its no where close to valentines day but still) maybe Reader is Rebecca's assistant and keeps getting gifts leading up to valentines day but she is pretty sure its like Sam or Isaac and tells friend Jaime (even though its really him) then the day of the grand finale and she comes to the lovely surprise of it being Jaime!

also if you could include Scarlett red roses in it for me (They are my favorite flower and the only flower I'm not allergic to)

So. I liked this one. Maybe too much? It might be the longest one I’ve written so far, so, uh, sorry about that. But I liked it a lot. It might be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy. also the gif isn’t Jamie Tartt but it is Phil Dunster so hopefully that’s ok

honey, i’ll give you all my time

Good god, it’s February all ready. You have a love-hate relationship with the month; love, because Galentine’s Day and hate because Valentine’s Day. You and your friends would go out on February 15th to get discount chocolate from the shops, then return home for an ungodly amount of takeout and a movie. On the whole, you all preferred action movies with a good romance.

You’re dreading Valentine’s Day because it’s when your boyfriend of two years held your hands in his, and told you he wanted to break up.

That was a year ago. You’re mostly angry that he’s a dark stain on one of your favorite holidays. You’re absolutely determined not to let him ruin your enjoyment.

This is also the first year you’re not with your friends. You moved away last March because you realized your ex had been holding you back in far too many ways.

So. To recap.

You’re alone. You love Valentine’s Day, despite it forever being the day of your breakup. Your friends aren’t here. You have new friends. There is no one to go to the shops with on the 15th. But discount chocolate is still discount chocolate.

Your current job is as a personal assistant, something you excel at. You basically anticipate needs, meet them, and just generally make your employer’s life a whole lot easier. The application said the job required a lot of travel, but all expenses (minus some food) were covered.

You were shocked when you got an interview, then a second, then a third, then were hired.

Your boss is a woman named Rebecca Welton, and you’re half in love with her, but who isn’t, really?

You swear you’ve never been in such a healthy work environment. You mention it one day, early on, and she says it’s all thanks to their head coach, someone named Ted.

You meet him for the first time later that day, and you understand.

It’s impossible not to love him, because he has vision. He knows what he wants from his team, and he knows how to get it.

He believes the team extends far beyond the players.

He believes it extends to you, too.

Ted and Coach Beard steal you from Rebecca as often as they can, claiming emergencies such as “a toxic amount of testosterone from all these boys,” “life-threatening boredom,” and last but not least, “there’s a new pun Ted absolutely needs to test right now and he won’t take no for an answer.”

(You like to give Ted honest feedback on his puns.)

You also find yourself in their office when Rebecca is out for lunch, eating your respective sandwiches and swapping life stories.

They remind you a lot of your parents.

It’s mid-June when you mention the Valentine’s Day story.

It doesn’t hurt as much when it’s punctuated by Ted’s “he didn’ts” and Beard’s perfectly-timed gasps.

You find yourself laughing halfway through, unable to stop.

“And anyway,” you finish, cheeks painful from smiling so hard, “that’s why romantic love is a joke and I am drowning myself in platonic love forever.”

Ted and Beard share a look. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Beard says.

You shoot him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“Well sweetheart,” Ted says, “between the two of us collectively,” here points between him and Beard, “we know of at least three of the boys on the team who are madly in love with you.”

“What?” you gasp, “How did you- where did you- who??”

Ted zips his lips and Beard tips a finger to him. “We know of five if we count Rebecca’s intel.”

You’re sitting cross-legged on the edge of Beard’s desk, in shock. “Rebecca knows about this??”

Ted and Beard shrug in unison. “We all have our opinions on which one should shoot their shot, but that’s neither here nor there,” Ted says.

“Coincidentally, it’s the one thing we unanimously agree on,” Beard nods.

You’re cut off from saying anything by the door opening. One of the players stands in the doorway.

“Excuse me, coach,” he says, accent thick.

Ted motions in a you have the floor type of way, and the footballer turns to address you of all people. “We’re all goin’ out tonight, and Keeley sent me to invite the new girl. None of the lads have really met you yet, just seen you ‘round. Thought it might be good for team bonding, or something. I’m Jamie, by the way.”

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. “I guess- yeah, I guess I haven’t really met them. I mean, I see you guys around and stuff and I’m at your games, but I don’t really know you. Are you sure you want me to come?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach is always on us about bein’ a team or some shit. And, havin’ a girl around makes the lads look good.”

You think that makes sense, and then find yourself agreeing to go out that night with a group of footballers you don’t know, and (thank god) Keeley Jones.

You’re going to figure out which five before the summer’s over.

—

You have nice time out with the lads. They go to a bar and cram into separate booths. You’re wedged in between two who have introduced themselves as Isaac and Dani, and across from Sam, Bumbercatch, and Jan Maas. Roy, Richard, and a few others you don’t know are milling about, and you see Jamie and Keeley at a table, surrounding by giggling girls. The sight is so absurd that you catch yourself smiling and turning back to whatever conspiracy Bumbercatch is telling you about now.

—

You put Sam at the top of your list as soon as you get home. The man wears his heart on his sleeve, or maybe in his eyes, but you’re positive that he’s one of the five Ted and Beard referred to. One down, four to go.

—

It’s the end of July, and you begin to become friends with the team. You know for an absolute fact who is not interested in you, Jamie being one of them. Coincidentally, he’s the one you become closest to. You think it’s because you’re not worrying about sending mixed signals or leading him on. You dropped public hints about not really looking for anything romantic, just to be sure you wouldn’t hurt anyone.

As it is, Jan Maas and Dani have made the list. Jan Maas, because he stifled his Dutch bluntness for you and Dani, because he openly declared he was madly in love with you in front of the whole team.

—

Isaac makes the list in December. It had been in between him and Bumbercatch, but Isaac was the one who walked you to your car every night and the first one to say hello to you every morning.

You’re not gonna lie, it was cute.

You shared some of this with Ted and Beard, who remained impressively stone-faced. Rebecca proved to be equally impervious.

You shared all of it with your lunch-buddy-turned-work-bestie, Jamie.

You ate with him because Rebecca was constantly in lunch meetings these days, and Ted, Beard, and Roy were always revamping their football strategies.

Jamie would plop down at your table and say, “What’s the news, Amy Hughes?” in his perfect Mancunian accent, and then listen/add commentary to whatever you had to say.

You explained to him that the reason you wanted to know who liked you was so that you could be extra careful with their hearts. You knew what it was like to be led on, and you did NOT want to do that to someone else.

Jamie nodded thoughtfully at that and then said, “We’re all footballers though, ain’t we? We get the shit end of the stick all the time, hearts broke by models and whatever. Even ends up in the fucking press. Everyone here’s has their heart broken before, and we all know you aren’t doing it on purpose.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s short end of the stick, Jamie.”

And thus begins your lunch hour of bickering.

—

No one has made a move on you yet, and you don’t have a read on number five. You still think it may be Bumbercatch, but in reality, it slips from your mind. Sam’s moved on, Jan Maas has accepted defeat, Dani swears he will love you until the day he dies, and Isaac stays, well, Isaac. Still sweet. Still walking you to your car, coming round extra early in the morning with a coffee or a water, depending on which “looked less like shit.”

Really though, you don’t think about it until February first, when you walk into your office to a small box on your desk.

At first, you think it’s a box of Ted’s biscuits.

Then, you notice a small, scarlet-red rose taped to the top. There’s no note, and all that’s inside is a tiny paper heart.

It’s folded with extreme care, and you place it on your shelf, smelling the rose. It smells amazing and you make a mental note to figure out where the heck it came from. But for now, it’s time to work.

—

You don’t mention the gifts until February third, because now there’s been one a day. Each one with a scarlet red rose, and a different gift. Yesterday was an incredibly expensive bar of chocolate (it was life-changing) and today is a tiny gold bracelet.

It’s a simple enough chain, but it is absolutely breathtaking. There is no mistaking the fact that it is not cheap, so you take it and march straight to Rebecca’s office.

“Rebecca,” you say, hands outstretched, “look.”

She does, smiles, then says, “It appears you have a secret admirer.”

“But I don’t want that!” you cry. “I don’t even have time for that! I don’t even like anybody right now!”

She peers at you over her glasses. “Don’t you?”

The sheer weight of those words is enough to physically knock you back two steps.

You don’t, you swear you don’t, you’re absolutely sure.

What about Vienna? a voice in the very back of your head nags.

You reply, out loud, “We don’t talk about Vienna,” and Rebecca just shrugs.

“Have it your way,” she replies in a tone that means this conversation is over, but you’re the one ending it.

You turn on your heel and find yourself taking the route to Ted and Beard.

You burst into their office in such a flurry that the entire room turns to look at you. “Close the door,” you say with such urgency, that Trent hurries to comply. Beard even shuts the blinds.

“What’s on your mind, Ollie Cline?” Ted asks.

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand. You point to Roy. “Do you want to be here? It involves feelings.”

“Fuck no,” says Roy, “thanks for being fucking considerate.” He follows it up with a pointed glare at Ted, then goes into his office and firmly shuts the door.

“Can he be here?” Ted asks, tilting his head toward Trent.

“I don’t care, he’s probably a good one to have around for this because look!” You present the three collected roses and the bracelet.

“Someone’s started leaving me gifts, and I’m pretty sure it’s a Valentine’s thing because of the roses, and it was fine for the first two days but this is expensive, and I can’t accept this!”

Ted and Beard share a look. You hate it when they do that and leave you out.

Ted sighs. “Listen, do you think this about Vienna?”

You fix him with a glare. “No. We are not talking about Vienna ever again.”

Trent pipes up, “What’s Vienna?” and you wheel around on him, taking your glare with you.

“Vienna," you spit, like it’s poisonous, “is a terrible, awful place where people think terrible, awful things. I never want to talk about it again and I never will.”

Trent nods. “Noted.”

You turn back to Ted and Beard, pleadingly. “What do I do? Tell me what to do.”

Beard gets up and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Kid, if you want my advice, take the damn roses and wear the damn bracelet. These boys make more money than they know how to spend, so just let it go. They all know how you feel about dating, so if someone’s shooting their shot, they know the stakes.”

You shake your head. “Fine. Fine. I’ll let it go.”

—

You decide to tell Jamie on day five, because it’s a Friday and you’re dying to get his take. You tell him everything, show him the roses in your office (hanging upside down to dry), and then hand him the notebook that was in today’s box.

“Jamie,” you say, “this is an expensive notebook. There was a typed note inside that said, ‘for your drawings.’ How did this person even know I like drawing? I never talk about it!”

Jamie looks at you and laughs a little. You’re very flustered for something most people would enjoy. “Dunno, love, but we’ve all seen the sticky notes you leave Coach. That might be it.”

You groan and flop down into your chair.

“At least tomorrow’s the weekend,” you say.

—

Jamie’s phone dings at 9:00am on Saturday with a text from you that says, what the actual heck and a picture of a brown bag at your doorstep. Inside is a plastic box of your favorite lemon muffin from a local bakery. He emphasized the image, then waits for your response.

It was still warm, you write. It was someone who knows where I live and knows what time I leave to get breakfast.

Jamie grins and sends you a shrugging emoji, and you respond with an eye roll and a you’re no fun.

Jamie reads that and privately disagrees. He thinks he’s lots of fun

—

You’re pretty sure it’s Isaac. After all, he’s the only likely candidate. He’s one of the few who knows where you live and knows your routine. Not in a creepy way, in a we’re-good-friends type of way. You bring this up to Jamie, after personally banning all talk of this with Ted, Beard, and Rebecca. Stupid Vienna. You should never have told them.

Jamie shrugs for the millionth, infuriating time. He’s been noncommittal this whole time. You’re over here pouring out your heart and soul, considering whether you like Isaac romantically or not, and all he can say is, “I dunno?”

This is not the Jamie Tartt you’ve become best friends with.

That Jamie would be down to hunt this secret admirer with you. That Jamie would be helping you figure out if Isaac had a chance with you. That Jamie would be way more engaged than the one sitting in front of you right now.

But, you suppose maybe that Jamie died in Vienna, so you stop bringing it up.

—

It’s day ten. Valentine’s Day is in four day, and you’re nervous.

You’ve decided you don’t like Isaac like that, mainly because it shouldn’t take you that long to decide if you like anyone. There has to be an initial spark, and you shouldn’t try to manufacture it.

Still, you’re not sure it is Isaac, so you’re not going to say anything about it. The scarlet red roses hang on your office wall, permeating the room with their scent.

You feel like you’re dying.

This is a cruel joke and you’re dying.

The building is basically empty right now. Rebecca and Higgins have some meeting, the team is on the pitch (including Will) and various other staff are somewhere far away from you. So, you jump a little when Trent Crimm comes tripping into your office.

“Vienna,” he says, no greeting. “If you didn’t want to talk about it, you wouldn’t have told anyone. I’m assuming you do want to talk about it, but you don’t want judgement from the people you love. I’m here to offer my services as a neutral party.”

You look at him. “Trent. You are a journalist. Your whole job is writing down people’s secrets. Why on earth would I talk to you about the worst day of my life?”

Trent shrugs. “I’m good at keeping secrets. This would be off the record. I’ve never lied to people about off the record, also. I consider it bad journalism.”

You consider this for a moment, then sigh.

“Alright,” you concede. “At least if this gets out, I know whose head I’m shaving in retaliation.”

Trent looks at you in surprise, seeing you in a whole new, slightly threatening light.

“It happened two months ago. It was around Christmas, and I didn’t have anywhere to go…”

—

Your family all had their own separate plans that Christmas. Plans that didn’t really involve you. Same with your friends. You said something casually to Rebecca, and the next day she told you she had booked you a trip to Vienna. Call it an early Christmas present, she said. It was at the Aumaris Vienna, and it was gorgeous and ridiculously out of your budget, but she said you worked hard and gave her peace-of-mind, and you can’t really put a price on that, can you?

So you went.

But here’s the thing.

Someone else didn’t have Christmas plans.

So when you brought up your trip at your daily lunch, said someone else casually asked, can I come?

You almost choked on your sandwich.

Because here’s the other thing.

You were, maybe, kind of, possibly just a little bit head over heels in love with this someone else.

You’re not sure when it happened, really, just that it was probably in August and that it was soul-crushing because you knew for an absolute fact that he did not, and never would, feel the same way.

You didn’t tell anyone except Keeley, but under the condition that she just let you say it and that she never, ever give you a response to it. Just listen.

She did, but you were pretty sure she almost combusted.

But who are you to say no when Jamie Tartt invited himself on your luxurious Christmas vacation saying, I’ll pay extra to get a plane ticket next to you?

You were doomed from the start.

To make matters totally and impossibly worse, he couldn’t find another room.

He had his tickets, but the hotels, he said, were packed.

It was Christmas, after all.

So that’s how you ended up in a luxury hotel with Jamie Tartt for a week and a half, one day of which was Christmas.

You know the, “there was only one bed” trope that everyone thinks is so cute?

It was that, but only if you add deep, shattering heartbreak to it.

Because every night, you had to listen to Jamie say, “goodnight, love,” and then get into that giant, soft bed as far away from him as you could manage.

Every morning you woke up to the pillow barricade long gone, one of his arms thrown around you. Or one of your legs on top of his. Or a million different scenarios where you end up literally asleep together, some weird gravity pulling you to each other.

You were falling so hard and so fast, that you felt like the air was knocked from your lungs when Jamie started talking about the girl he liked.

“She’s just so fucking beautiful,” he’d say, staring at an Alpine mountain. Or, “Swear she’s the smartest fucking person I’ve ever met,” while traipsing through the city. Or, “Pretty sure she’s ruined me for everyone else,” while getting facials at the hotel spa.

To be fair, you were the one who teased him into admitting he liked someone.

You just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

The entire trip felt like heaven and hell had simultaneously converged on you, and you never wanted to leave but also desperately counted the days till it was over.

You came back and broke down in Rebecca’s office. Ted and Beard were there. The whole thing came spilling out, about how you loved the trip so much it felt like your heart would explode but that Jamie loved someone else.

They all exchanged looks amongst themselves and did their best to comfort you.

You pulled yourself together and they promised never to say anything to anyone.

—

“So that’s Vienna,” you finish.

Trent is just staring at you, mouth slightly agape.

He finally says, “My god, that’s fucked,” with such emotion that you decide right then and there that you like Trent Crimm and his rainbow mug.

Now, you just shrug. “I did it to myself, honestly. That’s why I’m tripping out about this secret admirer thing. And god, Trent, the roses. They’re so beautiful and it’s so romantic, and whoever it is obviously knows me well so there’s a part of me that wants to like this person, but…” you trail off.

“But there’s a part of you that’s hoping against hope that Jamie’s behind it all,” Trent finishes.

You let out a little laugh. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Trent looks at the roses, then at you. “Maybe you should talk to Jamie,” he says, gently.

You reply with a forceful, “No,” and then follow up with a small, “That’s what Ted and Rebecca say, too.”

Trent stands up, shrugs, says with a small smile, “Just a thought,” then he’s out the way he came.

—

It is Valentine’s Day. And it’s a Sunday, which means you are legally required to stay in bed until 10, at which point you will get out only to make yourself decent enough to go buy a good cup of coffee and maybe (definitely) something to eat.

You’ve just finished putting on your shoes, when there’s a knock at the door.

You take a breath, and get ready to let down your secret admirer as gently as possible.

You swing open the door to reveal-

“Jamie! What are you doing here?”

Jamie Tartt is on your doorstep, hands behind his back, looking shyer than the day you first met.

He opens his mouth and says the last thing you’d ever expect:

“D’you remember Vienna?”

Your heart, which had already been going fast because his dumb floppy hair was all dumb and floppy in his stupid, cute headband, is now working double time. You manage a nod.

Jamie takes this as permission to continue. “D’you remember how I couldn’t get another room, no matter how hard I tried? That wasn’t true. I could’ve.” He pauses, and you wait for him to continue.

“And d’you remember when we met, when I told you Keeley told me to invite you out? That was a lie too.”

You tilt your head, confused. He keeps going.

“Look- I fucked it. I fucked it a million times and I told Ted and I told Beard, but they kept helping me un-fuck it and giving me chances, and then Rebecca bought two tickets to Vienna and slipped me the other one, and they all told me I had a perfect shot.”

You’re still not understanding what he’s saying. He might as well be speaking another language. Jamie sees the confusion in your eyes, takes a breath, and tries again.

“Keeley told me to invite you out, but only because I’d seen you around and thought you were fit. Then Isaac and all the lads thought the same thing, so I didn’t even get to fuckin’ sit with you. And then you started sayin’ things about not bein’ ready for a relationship, so I tried to let it go. I really fucking tried. But I just couldn’t. Your eyes are too sparkly and your laugh is too fucking cute and I couldn’t let it go, so I started eating lunch with you and you fucking let me. I knew the moment I said anything about liking you, it was over.”

Comprehension has started to dawn, but you push down hope until Jamie’s done speaking.

“Everyone told me to shoot my shot in Vienna. We shared a bed, for fuck’s sake.” Here, Jamie looks bewildered. “But I dunno, I didn’t want to make shit weird. So when you asked if I liked anyone I said yeah, and started fuckin describing you, but you never fucking picked up on it. That’s when I got the idea to try one more time. All by meself, no help from anyone else. So…yeah.”

Jamie Tartt is standing on your porch confessing his love for you on Valentine’s Day and it is not a dream, because if it were your teeth would be falling out and his hair would probably be neon pink.

“I’m an idiot,” you breathe. “You like me? Like, like-like me?”

Jamie quirks a smile at that. “Not quite, darling. Pretty fucking sure I love you.” He pulls his hand from behind his back to reveal a bunch of scarlet red roses. The same from each gift.

“Got these for you,” he says. “D’you know how hard it is to get red roses in February?”

You don’t answer him because you’re leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve thought about doing every day for what feels like forever. He’s kissing you back, hand with the flowers pressed against your back, other hand in your hair.

“I love you too, Jamie,” you whisper against his mouth. He smiles and pulls you in again.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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dameronology · 4 years ago

Text

figure it out {din djarin x reader}

summary: din djarin doesn’t usually get jealous. not until he met you, at least {for the lovely and wonderful @stargazingcarol} - 2.5k words

warnings: swearing

this is completely spoiler free!! just some good old jealousy and some antics with the kid. enjoy.

- jamie

You had a complicated relationship with the Mandalorian.

On one hand, you were colleagues…of sorts. He’d spent two years coming to your outpost on Corellia when he needed his ship fixing – and after becoming fed up of traipsing back and forth, he offered you the job full time. It was a mutually beneficial situation. You’d been desperate to get out the city for years, and you were also the only mechanic he trusted. The prospect of a job that would take you all over the galaxy was exciting, even if it meant tiptoeing around one another in the cramped hull of the Razor Crest (and that was before the addition of the Child). But, when you spent days and days in hyperspace with nobody else to talk to, it was only natural that you became friends. It had felt a little awkward at first, as though you were trying to force conversation with a man who just didn’t want to talk -- but then the Mandalorian’s barriers broke down, and things began to change.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when. It had probably been a few months in, not long after he’d saved your ass from a bounty who had thrown a punch in your direction. You hadn’t expected the Mandalorian to be so protective - and frankly, neither had he. It was after that he found himself doing things without realising; lingering touches on your back when he passed, his hands brushing your thigh whenever you were sat in the cockpit next to him. Then, you became unintentional adoptive parents to a weird, green creature - a bond between you that only seemed progressed naturally, as though you had no control over it.

One night, not long after you took the Child in, you’d both collapsed beside one another on the tiny bed in hull of the Crest. Usually, you would argue for a while about who got to take it, but on that night, neither of you’d had the energy. Under the covers of the dark and with the baby finally asleep, you were muttering amongst yourself - you couldn’t remember the conversation entirely, but it was sleepy, tired gibberish. Din found himself reaching to take the helmet off; he could hear you easier that way, and your voice was comforting enough to lull him off to sleep. In the quiet of the moment, and with the conversation between you reaching a natural stopping point, he’d gently closed the gap between you. It was simple; his lips on yours, only for a brief moment. Then, as though the Child had sensed that everything was no longer about him, he’d opened his mouth and let out a cry for attention.

You began to kiss more often after that; every night before bed, actually. As soon as the lights were off, Din would take the helmet off, give you a gentle kiss and then he’d drift off, holding you tightly to his chest. It was always that, followed by a good night, cyar'ika. Then the morning would come, and it would be good morning, cyar'ika followed by another soft kiss, before the helmet went back on and you both went about your days.

After a few months of that, you’d fallen into an easy routine. Neither of you had quite established what your relationship was, but it didn’t feel like you needed to. It’s not like there was anyone else around for you to have to worry about, or anyone else who would force you to define it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating; Din Djarin had never been the type of person to plan ahead, and you knew that more than anyone. The idea of becoming attached to him, only to lose him or get hurt was enough for you to at least want to try and work it out. You weren’t expecting a deep conversation, or even one that you could walk away from knowing whatever the hell was going on between you two.

It was just that with the addition of the Child, and the two of you growing closer each day, you wanted an answer. You wanted to know if you were wasting your time; if this was simply a pit-stop on your way to finding a more permanent settlement, or if this was it. Though you’d never admit it, you wanted it to be the latter. Din was reliable, and he cared about you. He was sweet in his own way and he’d have gone to the ends of the galaxy to look after you. He was protective in a way that let you fight your own battles, but not in a way you’d ever have to do it alone. You felt safe with him - as though you’d found everything you were looking for, except neither of you had been looking at all.

You brought the question up on a slow morning. The Mandalorian was between bounties, and you’d briefly landed in a dusty outpost on a thick jungle planet to refuel and find some food. The kid was snoring away in his pod a few feet away, clearly feeding off of the relaxed atmosphere that you’d managed to create. You were laying beside him, the lights still off and your head buried in his neck. Both of Din’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, gripping onto you as though you might slip away into the darkness of the vast galaxy.

‘What are we?’ You asked quietly.

‘Humans.’ Right, there was the dry sense of humour.

‘Din.’ You grumbled. ‘I’m serious.’

‘What’s making you bring it up now, cyar'ika?’ He asked. ‘It’s early.’

‘I was just thinking.’ You sat up, pulling the covers with you. ‘We’ve been doing this thing for months but neither of us have actually worked out what the hell is it is.’

‘We don’t have to.’ He replied.

‘Right.’ You murmured.

‘It’s just-’

As though the little bugger had sensed a sudden onset of tenseness in the room, the Child let out a loud cry. You immediately recognised it: he was hungry. Even if you were ready to throttle anyone who dared come near him, you didn’t have a hard time admitting that he had a penchant for the worst timing. With that said, the fact he’d slept through the whole night without waking once certainly helped the fact.

‘Hey, buddy! It’s okay!’ You heard the mechanical click of Din’s helmet as he turned on the lights, allowing you to leap out of bed and stumble to the baby. ‘We’ll get you some food.’

That wasn’t the first time that something had magically changed the subject whenever you tried to bring up the status of your relationship with Din. If the kid didn’t decide to pull your attention away, it was the Mandalorian himself who veered away from the conversation. He always had to check on a bounty, or rush off to see if the ship was on the right route. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he was avoiding the subject entirely and you were starting to become frustrated.

After almost three weeks of trying to challenge him about it, you were close to giving in entirely. What if you were wasting your time? What if you were going to let yourself fall in love with him, only to find out you weren’t a permanent part of his plan? Fuck, did he even have a plan? Was that the life you wanted -

- it was at that point that your train of thought had stopped, because the Child sensed you were upset, and started bawling. Again.

A few hours after your fourth or fifth try at the conversation - once again to have it ended by the kid tossing a frog at you in an attempt to steal the attention back - the three of you ended up in a bar. It was a little cantina a few hours outside of Mos Eisley; it was much cleaner than the other bars you’d seen, and if it weren’t for your foul mood, you might have even enjoyed it.

‘What’s up with you?’ Din asked quietly.

‘Nothing.’ You murmured. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Your tone is off, cyar'ika.’

‘Leave it.’ You snapped. ‘I’m getting another drink.’

You moved the baby off your lap, placing him on Din’s instead. After digging around in your pocket for some credits, you quickly stood up and sauntered over to the other side of the bar, leaning against the wooden counter as you waited for your turn to be served. It wasn’t too busy - there were a few people floating about. Locals, you figured. It was a slightly fancier part of Tatooine, and you could see the difference in the people who were frequenting the establishment.

You were trying not to think about Din, or the fact he still refused to talk about what was going on between the two of you. You’d long surpassed the point of no return for your friendship - no, you were too invested now. Either he had to prove he was in it for the long run, or you had to walk away. Was that an unfair ultimatum? Not really. He’d started it, after all.

‘What’s a pretty thing like you doing waiting for a drink?’

You glanced up to see a man beside you, a half-empty flagon of beer in his hand. He was tall, dark and handsome; the type you used to briefly date back on Corellia. He smelt of expensive aftershave, and his clothes gave the impression he was quite well-off.

‘I could ask you the same.’ You replied.

‘So you think I’m pretty?’ The man quirked an eyebrow at you.

‘No, I...I mean, yeahhhh.’ You turned to face him, offering him a smile.

‘You’re here with that Mandalorian.’ He glanced over his shoulder, before leaning a little closer towards you. ‘What’s his deal?’

‘Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.’ You snorted. ‘I don’t think he knows what his deal is.’

The conversation was completely innocent - after all, you had no intention of anything happening with whoever this guy was. And even if you did, weren’t you technically single? You certainly weren’t in a relationship, at least not according to Din Djarin. He had no standing ground, nor any right to be jealous.

Still, that didn’t stop his entire body filling with rage the minute the man put his hand on your arm, and it certainly didn’t stop him immediately packing up all your stuff to leave the bar. Even the notion of another man touching you made him want to scream - let alone the actual sight of it. It was the way your new friend leant in a little too close, and laughed a little too hard at your jokes. You were funny, but you weren’t that funny.

‘We’re leaving.’ Din declared, suddenly appearing beside you.

‘Okay.’ You shrugged, glancing up at him. ‘I’ll meet you back on the ship later.’

‘No, I mean we’re leaving.’

You snorted. ‘I think you’ll find that I’m staying right here- oof!’

You let out a small squeak as the Mandalorian grabbed you with his free arm, tossing you over his shoulder. Before you could protest, or even apologise to the man beside you, he was marching you out of the bar and into the cool evening air of Tatooine. All meanwhile, the baby was giggling at the site of you with your legs in the air and your face planted against Din’s back.

The ship wasn’t far - probably not more than a two minute walk. Din had been conscious of the Child’s little legs when he’d parked at the outpost; he was becoming more independent now and insisted on walking places himself. It was just that he could only walk for five minutes before getting tired, but the little sod would cry if you tried to carry him. He was lucky he was cute.

‘What the hell was that?’ You snapped, barely catching your balance as Din planed you on the floor of the ship.

‘That man was flirting with you.’ Din simply stated. ‘I didn’t like it.’

‘You...’ you trailed off. ‘You didn’t like it?’

‘He was overstepping his boundaries.’

‘You were jealous, weren’t you?’ You let out a derivative snort, folding your arms across your chest.

‘You knew I could see you.’ Din was still calm.

‘And? It’s not like we’re in a relationship, is it?’ You murmured.

‘That’s not-’

‘ - let me finish!’ You cut him off. ‘I have been trying for weeks to talk to you about it, to see where I stand with you, and you always change the subject or try to run away from it! You have no right to be jealous, or to act like I’m with you because you have made it abundantly clear that I am not. Your high horse is basically a shetland fucking pony, Din Djarin!’

There was a silence between you for a moment. It felt good to have finally said it - you just wished you’d been a bit more gentle. Din had never seen you shout before, or even come close to losing your temper. He knew it was bound to happen but he had never imagined it being at him. Then again, if you’d tried to pick him up and force him out the bar against his will, he would have been angry too. (The thought of you even trying it was rather comical).

‘I was scared.’

That hadn’t been the response you were expecting.

‘Of me?’ Your voice was quiet.

‘I’m in love with you.’ He said bluntly. ‘That terrifies me.’

‘I...fuck.’ You felt as though the wind had been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with whatever grey smoke the Crest spat out when the engines were broken. ‘I love you too - but why does it scare you?’

‘Because it means I can’t ever leave you.’ Din continued. ‘And I want to give you the life you deserve but I don’t know if I can. Not with my job, not with the things I’ve done.’

‘Din.’ You took a step forward, his large hands enveloping yours as you did. ‘D’you think I care about any of that?’

‘I was afraid to ask.’

‘No offence, but you can be a bit thick sometimes.’ A small chuckle escaped your lips, even if tears were forming in your eyes. ‘I don’t care where we are or where we go, as long as I’m with you, then I have the life I want. That’s why I’ve been so off these last few weeks, because I was so scared you were going to turn around and push me away.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’ He said. ‘I’m not going to leave you - you have my word. I promise.’

‘So why don’t we just stop being scared and start just...being together?’

He briefly stepped away, hitting the control panel to turn off the lights in the ship. His helmet hit the ground with a thud, and a moment later, his hands were on your hips as he pulled you towards him. Din crashed his lips onto yours, closing the gap between you with a desperate kiss. You’d kissed before - more times than you could even begin to count - but this one felt different. It had meaning; purpose, in fact. It was as though the last few months’ worth of feelings that the Mandalorian had been pushing aside had finally broken.

‘I love you, cyar'ika.’ He quietly murmured again. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘Stop saying sorry.’ You tearfully smiled, forehead still pressed against his. ‘And I love you too, even if you’re a bit of a dumbass sometimes.’

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you, dumbass.’ You quietly said.

‘Is that now your equivalent to cyar'ika?’

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mando x reader #mando imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x you #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian angst #star wars imagines #star wars x you #star wars fanfic #star wars x reader

3K notes · View notes

sambuckylibrary · 3 years ago

Text

PROTECTIVE SAM // SAM COMFORTS BUCKY + 1

sam does the protective boyfriend thing by abhorsenbranwen

T | >1k | nwa | post tfatws

Bucky's been very talkative to a reporter he's befriended and Sam gets a little protective.

mod note: part of a much larger series called Questionable Communication Skills

Agency by howler32557038

E | 4.3k | nwa | post civil war

Steve leaves Sam to keep an eye on Bucky while the team is on the run, with strict instructions not to leave the motel. Bucky can make his own decisions for the first time in years, and he's not going to waste it. Sam is always ready to help out a fellow soldier.

piece my heart back together again by last_honey

NR | 10.6k | gdv | post endgame

“I’ve seen you healthy, Bucky, and this isn’t that.” He waves his hand at the bare kitchen, the pathetic living room. “This—this isn’t that.” So maybe Sam has a point. Whatever. Doesn’t mean Bucky’s gonna fucking admit it.

—

In which Sam invites himself into Bucky’s life, and Bucky lets him stay.

Recovery by spideybegins

M | 4.2k | nwa | post tfatws

“On a scale of one to ten, how weird would it be if I washed your hair?” He kept his tone light. The less serious he was, the easier it would be for Bucky to say yes.

“You... want to wash my hair?” Bucky questioned. “It’s that bad, huh?”

Even though yes, it was that bad, Sam instantly waved him off. He wasn’t trying to make him feel bad about it. “No, not at all. Sarah packed me some of her hair products, and I just thought you’d appreciate them more than I would.”

—

Or the one where Bucky has been too tired to take care of himself, so Sam helps him.

mod note: part 2 of a 3 part series called Changing Stages. pay attention to the tags.

that feeling I get about you deep inside by glittercake

E | 3.2k | nwa | post endgame

"Sam, sweetheart, gonna-"

"You do whatever you want baby," Sam tells him, licks at his earlobe, "but I'm gonna keep going 'till I'm done."

Bucky makes half an attempt at an incredulous laugh despite his legs going weak, "I'm so in love with you, I swear."

"I know," Sam whispers, angles his hips down, then up sharp and hits home. Bucky sees fucking galaxies, drifts off into another realm.

mod note: i have been patiently WAITING for an opportunity to rec this fic. if you’re looking for an absolutely scolding hot sambucky wherein sam is the slightly more domineering partner and bucky gets taken care of, then look no further.

Got a feeling that I’m going under by cyclogenesis (addictedkitten)

E | 9.3k | nwa | post: endgame

In which Sam discovers that even super soldiers need a hand with healing sometimes, and it turns out there’s a slippery slope between helping out a partner and falling completely in love with said partner.

mod note: stomach clenching feels.

just a touch by ohjustpeachy

G | 1.1k | nwa | post: tfatws

“Well, you need to sleep, then,” Sam says.

“Easier said than done, Sammy,” Bucky says.

“We talked about the Sammy thing,” Sam points out.

“You talked about it. I’m pretty sure you like it, though. Besides, arguing will make my head hurt worse,” Bucky adds.

Sam laughs again, just as warm and soft as before, and Bucky wishes he could bottle the sound up and carry it with him, let it loose whenever he’s feeling like this again: hot and headachy and alone.

Or, Bucky gets a migraine and Sam helps.

mod note: added 1/18/22.

It’s Always You by 42hrb

E | 15.1k | nwa | post winter soldier

Bucky disappeared after he pulled Steve from the water and Sam spent the next few years following leads around the world looking for him. As far as Steve knows, Sam never finds him, but that isn't exactly true.

keep the ashes from my heart (and walk away) by coffeeinallcaps

E | 4.4k | nwa | post tfatws

“Jamie asked me out on a date,” Sam says. Bucky swallows. “Took him long enough,” he says, keeping his tone light. He bumps their shoulders together for good measure. “You should go for it.” “You really think so?” Sam asks, looking at him. “Yeah, man,” Bucky says. He fixes his gaze on Torres, high up in the sky, sunlight glinting off his wings. It hurts Bucky’s eyes. He blinks, rapidly. “You should be with somebody who can make you happy.” (In which Sam starts dating someone who is not Bucky, and Bucky pines, gets seriously injured, and proves himself wrong.)

Back to you by glittercake

G | 2.4k | nwa | AU

"I, uh, know you," Sam says, "In the future." Bucky looks at him intrigued. "In another life, no one saved you from that fall."

Bucky laughs like he's not shocked at all, "I always knew I wouldn't make it home from this war."

Sam goes on a rescue mission... in 1944

No Ordinary Love by TheFlashFic

T | 11.6k | nwa | post tfatws

Bucky’s been magically cursed to be allergic to Sam Wilson.

For fuck’s actual sake.

a bird in hand (is much better than any number free to wander) by raquetgirl

E | 5.7k | nwa | post tfatws

Bucky decides it’s time.

The Truths Beneath Our Ribs by ElisabethMonroe +1

E | 6.7k | nwa | post the winter soldier

5 times Bucky wears Sam's things +1 time Sam wears something of Bucky's

#mod: themandelorians #sambucky fic recs #sambucky #onlysambucky #sambuckylibrary #post tfatws #post endgame #post winter soldier #mixed ratings

121 notes · View notes

supercorpkid · 3 years ago

Text

Extraneous Variable 3

Error: n3

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Kelly Olsen x Niece!Reader

Word Count: 3120.

“What the actual fuck!”

“LANGUAGE!” Kara scolds Alex, pointing at you. “My kid is here!”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but WE ARE KIDS TOO!” Alex runs to the front of the mirror, and you get out of her way. “This can’t be true! I’m gonna kill Brainy!”

She marches to the door looking like she will absolutely kill him. You wonder if you should do something, but Brainy can protect himself, besides you’re not a superhero anymore. You look at your moms. Kara and Lena are staring at each other, so shocked, nothing leaves their mouths.

“Moms?”

Kara seems to be the first one to come down from her shock. “I’m you! I’m about your age!”

“Yep! We’re one in the same.” You agree with a big smile. Alex is close by, yelling at Brainy to reverse this mess. You try to ignore her.

“That’s so cool!” Kara holds Lena’s hand, who still hasn’t said a word. “Love, I’ve always wanted to know you as a teen. Hey, now we can say that we have! And, YAY, I’m going to kiss you as a teen.” Kara’s face goes towards Lena’s, who sleekly moves away. “Lena!”

“Nope.” Your mom finally lets out. “You’re her. I’m not doing that, it’s weird.” She points at both of you and sits on the chair that is closest by. Her hands cover her face, and she lets out an exasperated sigh. “I told you not to mess with alien tech. Look what you've done.”

“I didn’t do this! It was Brainy.” You defend yourself, pointing at him instead.

“In my defense, I’m just trying to undo the mess you made.” He also ignores Alex for the sake of defending himself.

“Well, you’ve made more messes than I have now.”

“Only if we look at this numerically.”

“How else would we look at it?”

“You star-”

“STOP IT!” Lena yells, making everyone in the room flinch at the sound of her teen voice coming out so loud. “Both of you, stop it! I have a damn company to run and how the hell am I supposed to do that looking like a teenage girl?”

Kara opens her mouth, but before she has a chance to speak, Lena snaps at her again.

“Kara, I swear to GOD if you say ‘language’ right now, I’m going to curse in five different languages!”

“Someone’s a moody teenager.” Alex mutters and you hold your laugh, biting your lip, knowing damn well not to add into Lena’s moodiness.

“I think I can-” Brainy starts.

“NO!” Alex slaps his hand away from the piece of tech. “Do not touch that again.”

“But-” He tries.

“NO!” Kara yells protecting the tech with her own body. “I’m scared you might turn someone into a zombie next and they’ll come for me.”

“In that case, you don’t have to worry. Zombies eat brains, so you’re safe.” Alex looks at Kara and you look to the other side trying to hide your laughter again. Aunt Alex as a teen is way too funny.

“Hey!” Kara interjects.

“I just have to-” Brainy starts again.

“NO!” It’s Lena who says it this time. “You heard them! Step away from the alien tech. Actually, can we all get out of here and leave it for the kid to figure this out?”

“You know, you can’t call me ‘kid’ anymore. I think I’m actually older than you are, right now.”

“And I am actually still your mother, so you better find a way to reverse this, or you will be in deep-deep trouble, young lady.” Lena says and you drop your head low. Why is she still so scary even looking younger than you?

“But if the 12th-level intellect can’t find the solution, what chance do I have?”

“Well, you have the motivation.” Lena smiles at you, blinking her big green eyes at you. “Find the solution, don’t get grounded for messing with alien tech when I specifically told you not to.”

“Touché.”

“But how is this even possible?” Kara says, counting something on her fingers. She looks around confused. “We’re not all the same age, yet-”

“I have neither the time, nor the crayons to explain this to you.” Alex says and this time you can’t hold your laugh anymore. You wheeze out a laughter and Kara furrows her brows at you in response.

“You don’t know, do you?” She asks Alex, who denies with her head.

“No idea.”

“Ok, that’s it. Everyone out of this lab. Let’s all wait upstairs.” Lena points outside and you watch Brainy, Alex and Kara leaving with their heads hanging low.

“But I need help.” You mumble, but are left unanswered. You don’t know if they didn’t hear you or are just choosing to ignore you for the sake of Lena not yelling at them.

“So, we’re not gonna kiss?” It’s the last thing you hear before the door closes behind them.

“KARA!” Actually, that’s the last thing before you find yourself all alone in your lab with the alien tech in front of you.

It’s not that you’re scared of it, but yeah, being a baby and then a boy wasn’t the best experience in your life. Now your moms and aunt are teens. One is moody, the other is a sarcastic queen, and the other one is… Just… Kara.

You: Need help. Brainy turned our moms into teenagers.

Jamie: WHAT! OUR moms? This is gold!

You: Yeah, well, Lena is still scary as a teen, so I need a solution ASAP. Help. Please?

Jamie: Don’t know how I can help, but yeah. Sure. On my way now.

Jamie shows up some time later. You try to fill her in on what’s going on. She can’t stop laughing. Seriously. She can’t be stopped.

“I’m serious!” You roll your eyes at her reaction. “This is bad! Really bad.”

“I know. I wish we had popcorn.” She jokes, grabbing her phone in her pocket and going to the lab door. “Come on, I gotta see this with my own eyes.”

“Jamie.” You try. She ignores you, still going to the elevator.

“You said they’re at Lena’s office, right?” She’s already inside the elevator when you decide to follow her. She smiles satisfied when she sees you. “Relax.” She says pushing the button for Lena’s floor. “We’ll say we need to assess the situation, or like, whatever.”

“Fine. Just be aware, your mom is a savage.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it. I’m going to film the whole thing. Whenever I say something she doesn’t like, I’ll use this video as proof I’m not as bad as she was.”

You two sneak into the top floor, but there’s no need. Your mom’s assistant was sent home. Lena probably didn’t want to explain how she was turned back into a teenager. You open a little crack on the door and Jamie sneaks in her phone so she can film them.

Brainy is no longer with them, so right now only the three of them are in the office. Lena’s on her chair, still doing some work even as a teen. Alex is on the couch and Kara is impatiently walking from one side to the other.

“Seriously Alex, what do you think? I could wear Superkid’s suit, and no one would know.” She asks, looking at Alex waiting for a response. It doesn’t come. “Alex?”

“There’s no need to repeat yourself, I ignored you just fine the first time.” It’s what Alex says. You and Jamie try not to laugh out loud.

“Rao, you’re the worst teenager ever!” Kara complains, throwing herself in the chair in front of Lena. “Lena. Hey.” No response. “Lenaaaaaa, do you have any snacks?”

“Kara, I’m trying to work.” Lena shots her down, making Kara roll her eyes.

“Why? We’re teens. We’re not supposed to work. Besides, it’s not like anyone can hear your voice or see your face right now. Am I right, Alex?”

“I stopped listening, so why don’t you stop talking?” It’s what Alex answers. You seriously have to cover your mouth not to make any sound.

“You’re not funny. Just very cruel.”

“Yes, well. It keeps me young.” She winks at Kara. You and Jamie laugh so loud, Kara stands up in one motion, grabbing Jamie’s wrist -the one with the phone still filming- and you watch your cousin being lifted over Kara’s head. She struggles trying to put her feet back on the ground.

“It looks like we have company.” Kara says finally putting Jamie back on her feet, and you get up from the floor and go inside the office too.

“I thought I told you to reverse this!” Lena says, looking at you. You shrug.

“Well, I needed to see how you’re all thinking.” You lie, trying to justify yourself. “Momma doesn’t seem to have changed at all and you’re still working, but aunt Alex seems to have turned into a teen completely.”

“I have not.” She stands up, crossing her arms. “It’s just nice to annoy Kara. Now, I would very much like to return to my old body.”

“Me too! Lena doesn’t even want to make out with me anymore.”

“Oh, dear God.” Lena gets up, going to her cocktail bar and pouring herself a glass of whiskey.

“What are you doing? You can’t drink! You’re not old enough!” You tell her and she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Yes, I am! I’m a forty-six woman in a teenage girl’s body!”

“Well.” You take the glass of whiskey out of her hands. “When I was a sixteen-year-old girl in a baby’s body you fed me baby food, so I guess we’re respecting that rule. That means no drinking for you.” You look at Kara. “And no, you cannot use my super suit and go save the world, because, like I told you, Superkid doesn’t exist anymore. Now, be nice and go buy us some snacks.” Then, you turn to Alex. “And you, stop giving Kara a hard time or I’ll call your wife and have her come and babysit all of you. Now, if you can excuse us, the older ones must figure out a way out of this mess.”

“She’s your daughter alright.” Kara mumbles, looking at Lena and you shoot her a warning look.

Kara follows you and Jamie out of the office and into the elevator. Jamie looks at both of you with a weird expression.

“I thought one was more than enough.” Then she agrees with her head, looking away. “I was right.”

“And you’re Alex’s daughter alright.” Kara steps out of the elevator when it gets on the ground floor and you hear Aly talking to her.

“Hello, Miss Luthor-Danvers! It’s good to see you.”

“Oh, um, yeah! It’s me!” Kara says and you look at Jamie rolling your eyes.

“You know what? The sooner we finish this, the better.” You push the button for the underground level, and it doesn’t take long for you and Jamie -kind of- start working.

You absolutely hate the fact that you started messing with alien technology in the first place. You should’ve listened to Lena when she told you not to touch it. Kara comes in and out with food, Jamie takes several naps next to you, but you keep working.

“Ok, honestly. That’s enough.” Jamie gets up, holding your arm. “We’re going home. They’re not going to die being teens for a day. I mean, you didn’t die being a boy, so they’re cool.”

“Lena told me to find the solution.”

“Yes, well. She said, ‘find the solution’ not ‘find it today’. So, we’re leaving.” Jamie sighs, tired. You look at the clock and agree with your head. “Let’s take our teens home.”

And despite protests, you all go home. It’s funny that none of them can drive, so Jamie is the one left driving all of you around in Lena’s fancy car. You can tell Lena is not enjoying the ride, but there’s not much she can do about it.

“And here we are.” Jamie says, stopping in front of your house.

“Why are our lives so goddamn weird?” It’s how Alex says goodbye, and you look at Jamie raising an eyebrow.

“Good luck with her.” You slip out of the car and follow your moms into the house.

“Well, I’ll go watch TV.” You hear Kara’s voice, and she makes her way to the living room. You look at Lena who just shrugs.

“Meh, guess I’ll do that too.”

“Ok, no.” You follow Kara and turn off the TV. She interjects, but you ignore. “You’re going to take a shower, and Lena is going to help me with dinner.”

“I don’t wanna.” Lena says, throwing herself on the couch and you breathe deep.

“Ok, come on. You guys are not actually teens. Stop being annoying!” You take the control out of Kara’s hand again, when she motions turning the TV back on.

“And you’re not our mom, so stop bossing us.” Kara complains. You breathe deep one more time.

“I wouldn’t have to boss you, if you would just act your age, young lady!” You hear yourself saying that and your eyes widen. “Look at what you’re making me say! My God, I hate myself right now.” You toss the control back at her. “Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

You still go to the kitchen and get started on dinner. How dare they make you be the responsible adult in the house? They only look young. They’re not actually young. Right?

Jamie: Why does my mom keep acting like a young brat? Isn’t she supposed to be like 50 but look younger?

You: Maybe? My moms are also being immature right now.

Jamie: Do you think their minds are catching up to their body?

You: Maybe???

“Mom!” You call but hear no answer. “Lena!”

“Ugh, what? Can you just leave me alone for like a second?” Lena’s voice comes a while later.

You run to where they are. They’re sitting on the same couch holding hands.

“What’s going on here?” You ask and receive rolling eyes as an answer. Those little weasels!

“God, you’re so annoying for a teen. Are you sure you’re not a 60-year-old woman?” Lena says and you bite your tongue not to answer her. “We’re holding hands, ‘cause this one apparently needs human contact to survive.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of pitch-black as a teen?” You go back to the kitchen and finish the dinner. But they’re awfully quiet in the living room, so you make your way there in silence to see what’s going on. “Wow, that’s a big kiss!”

You interrupt them, like Kara once has done to you and Maya. They are breathless and flushed and are now shooting daggers at you.

“Dinner is ready.” You say but none of them move. They’re really starting to annoy you. “Did you listen?”

“We’re choosing to ignore you.” Lena says and you close your eyes, breathing deep a few times. Come on, you’re not that annoying as a teen. She’s the worst.

“Get up, come on.” You make your way towards them, hold Kara’s arms and make her stand. “Come eat, and then we’re going to sleep. I can’t stand you both anymore. Go on, Kara. Don’t make me say it twice.”

At that she obeys. Lena still rolls her eyes at you once more, before getting up and going to the kitchen table. You thought it would be a lot more fun having your moms being your own age. You felt like they would understand you, but instead they’re so self-centered it is impossible to hold a conversation. There’s no doubt, their minds are catching up to their bodies for sure.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You stop them, before they run out of the kitchen. “You two are not sleeping together. And you still have to do the dishes and clean the kitchen.” You smile, actually excited you get to say that to them. “Go on.”

You don’t even care about the rolling eyes, and the mumbles under their breaths. You’re sitting while they do all the work. You get now why Lena likes bossing you so much. It is fun!

You don’t let them sleep together. You already saw way too much when you went to the living room earlier. So Kara’s stuck sleeping with you, and the moody teen gets to sleep alone in the other bedroom.

It’s early when you wake up. Jamie, Kelly and teen Alex show up at your house sooner than you’d like.

“Ok, I’m going to the lab, you stay here and try to wake my moms up.” You tell Kelly and look at Jamie who grabs the car keys at your signal. “You might have to hire an exorcist for Lena.”

“Can’t be worse than this one.” Kelly points at Alex with her head, who rolls her eyes in response. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at Alex and leave with Jamie.

“Do we roll our eyes that much?” You ask her and she agrees with her head.

“Not anymore. My God, that shit’s annoying!”

You go back to the lab, and surprise! You can’t do it alone. But since Lena’s not around – physically or mentally �� you call Brainy, and he shows up a while later to help you.

“Ok, this time, I think we actually got it.” He says and you agree with your head.

“After we undo this thing, I swear to Rao I’m breaking this machine into a thousand pieces.” You look at Jamie. “Ok, call your mami. Time to bring them back.”

It’s not long until Kelly shows up with three moody teenagers fighting behind her. She looks as done as you imagine you would with their bullshit. You pray to Rao this works. You’re done with this tech, and this nonsense all together.

You shove them inside your lab. Show Kara which button to press – she’s the less annoying one – and the rest of you wait outside.

“You did it!” Kara says, opening the lab door, excitedly. You look at them looking normal again and breathe relieved.

“Thank Rao.” You hug both of your moms, while Kelly and Jamie hug Alex. “You two were terrible teenagers.”

“Well, you handled us very well, babygirl.” Lena kisses your forehead. “I love you guys. But, um, I have to go to work.”

Lena leaves in a hurry. Kara, Alex and Brainy also excuse themselves running out of your lab back to their jobs, and you find yourself alone with Jamie.

“Hey. Help me with this?” You give her a piece of wood and point at the alien tech. She nods with a big smile.

Bye, bye weird situations alien tech put you through. Hello, weird situations your life puts you through.

Notes:

Once again thanks @oncemoonie for this fun prompt. I had too much fun with this series.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #alex danvers #kelly olsen #reader insert

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