#yes most of these are from the last half of the season ... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ssahotchnerr · 3 months

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omg could you maybe write something about reader going to one of jacks soccer games and all of the moms are jealous of her bc she’s with hotch

not so friendly competition

omg i absolutely can cw; fem!reader, jealous suburban moms, one tries to make a pass at aaron, established relationship, small angst?, pettiness, aaron being adorable <3 wc; 1.3k

from the moment you arrived - a hand clasped in aaron's, jack excitedly sprinting ahead the two of you - you could feel the target on your back.

the warm, refreshing morning suddenly felt quite stuffy. as if strangely enough, there wasn't enough air to go around. the feeling especially solidified when aaron gave you a sweet, parting kiss - him off to uphold his coaching duties, you off to find a spot on the grass to set up your chair.

you half expected it, the feeling out of place and self consciousness; this was jack's second season playing soccer, aaron's second season coaching, and most of the players had returned from last year. long story short, and entering a relationship with aaron only a few weeks after jack's season had concluded, you were the new face.

not only that, you were missing a common trait amongst the others. you weren't, by definition, jack's mom.

it was a silly, technical notion, and it was quite possible you weren't the only outlier, but you simply wanted to belong there just as much as the others. to feel as if you belonged.

and that's definitely not how you currently felt.

despite your perception - hoping you had falsely and quickly misjudged the atmosphere - you offered the moms a smile and a hello as you got settled. you got maybe one, two responses in return, before they resumed their ongoing conversation without you. any hopefulness that remained, deflated as you sat there silently.

and while you weren't exactly listening to them, you could still make out bits and pieces of their conversation. however, your ears fully perked up at the mention of aaron. which also brought you into the discussion.

"you're with the coach?"

her question wasn't based on genuine interest, a getting-to-know-type basis, a friendly conversation starter. but, it was rather accusatory, as if you'd done something detrimentally wrong.

you nodded, your eyebrows furrowing briefly in confusion. "yes?"

"like... with him?"

oh.

the standoffish environment wasn't due to you being unwelcome, or, at least not in the way you had previously anticipated. it was jealousy, plain jealousy. they must've spent all of last season ogling aaron, and here you were, getting in the way.

again, you nodded in confirmation. a few grimaces were produced amongst several faces, igniting something deep within you, suddenly feeling very protective of aaron and your relationship.

you casually shot back, relentlessly, "why, is that a problem?"

the mom shrugged, pulling her eyes from yours annoyingly, as if you'd done her an injustice.

she didn't stop there though, uttering something under her breath. while you didn't hear what it was exactly - the low tone definitely indicated she had just insulted you in one way or another.

and choosing to remain on the civil side, you held your tongue.

the whispers continued sparingly; as much as it stung, and as much as the red-hot feeling that had settled in your body was uncomfortable, why should you let it affect you? they weren't a threat, they were suburban moms - probably peaked in high school, probably relied off their husband's salary, probably thought they were better than each and every person they came across.

you could be annoyed, but you weren't worried. the bigger picture, you had what they wanted; you had aaron. you've already won, despite any fights they attempted to pick.

"i need to stretch my legs." the same woman abruptly said, loudly to gain your interest.

she promptly rose, walking towards the team's bench. or more specifically, right up to aaron.

she was quick to strike up a conversation with him - overdramatizing her already-shrill laugh, displaying open body language, the sweetest smile she could muster up.

what did you in, a 'friendly' touch to his arm before she retreated, whenever she finished saying whatever the hell was so important she had felt the need to interrupt his coaching for.

and throughout such, aaron appeared as his typical friendly self as he engaged with her, as expected. although a look of confusion did flash across his face when she graced his arm.

your jaw clenched in anger, but you kept reminding yourself: her actions were just to spite you, just to piss you off, and you refused to give her the reaction she seemingly so desperately craved.

so when she returned, with an awfully smug look plastered on her face and dropping into her chair with a sense of pure satisfaction, you kept your focus forward. you came to watch jack's game, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

but during the mid-game break, once aaron had finished talking with the kids and they sprinted back onto the field to practice some goals, did you approach him.

"hi sweetheart," aaron mumbled into your skin as he kissed your temple, one of his hands comfortably finding your back. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, offering him a timid smile.

"what's wrong?"

"nothing." you lied, tucking yourself into his chest. you took a deep breath and sighed, smelling the traces of light sweat and grass clinging to him.

"you don't think i buy that, do you?" he asked, a gentle, almost comical tone to his words - all to lighten up your present tension. "what is it?"

you shook your head, "i don't want to talk about it..." your eyes shot over to your new best friends, whose eyes were glued to the two of you. "here."

aaron glanced over at them, profiling immediately. "are they giving you a hard time?"

after a moment's hesitation, an annoyed huff escaped you. "let's just say they're not too happy that the coach is taken."

"what?" aaron laughed breathlessly, his face scrunching the smallest amount in confusion. "half of them are married."

"clearly that doesn't matter, they're still over there undressing you with their eyes." you arched an eyebrow, the scowl on your face only deepening.

"c'mon, you're too pretty to make that face." aaron lightly teased, kissing your pout gently. at the touch, your face did relax, the ends of your lips itching to turn upwards into a smile.

"oh they're gonna hate that you did that."

aaron shrugged, kissing you again. "let them."

you surrendered yourself to your smile, but you still frustratedly crossed your arms in front of your chest. "it's ridiculous."

aaron was quick to untangle your hands, holding onto them and applying a gentle squeeze. "you know you don't have competition. you have me."

"i know. that's why i feel so stupid i'm letting it bother me." you gritted through your teeth. "what did that one woman even say to you?"

"truthfully, i couldn't tell you. i wasn't paying attention." he answered honestly, his eyebrows drawing into a line as he even attempted to mentally recall it.

you couldn't help but laugh, pressing yourself more into him. "you're insufferable."

"i try." aaron joked, but his expression switched tactics, to genuine concern as he moved in front of you, "in all seriousness, are you going to be okay?"

"yeah." you brought your hands to his chest, running your thumbs against his pecs affectionately. you already were. "i have you, don't i?"

"and you could always stay here with me." aaron playfully, but earnestly offered. "and be my beautiful, thoughtful, astounding, beautiful assistant coach."

"you drive a hard bargain," your eyebrows rose, feeling his chuckle underneath your fingers. "but it's okay. i'm not gonna let them think they're running the show, or that they can step on me like that." you shook your head. "and as needed, i might have to flaunt you around."

aaron grinned, proudly. "that's my girl."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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hobies-princealbert · 10 months

Text

pornstar! hobie brown x pornstar! reader | (obviously nsfw)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆ pornstar! hobie brown whose name you've heard floating around your feed since your first appearance. The one who you've been dying to get in touch with, but feared that your small following wouldn't interest him, like some of the others you've asked.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown, a veteran in the game, and by what you've heard is one of the best fucks some of the most seasoned creators have ever had.

☆ yeah, that same pornstar! hobie brown that just messaged you asking if you were down to collaborate with him one day.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who had you screaming into your sheets and kicking your feet cause not only does he knows you exist, he wants to collab!

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who you immediately said yes to.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown and you then stayed up all night discussing the location, time, equipment, condoms, toys etc. you know the good stuff. he was surprisingly thorough, most people you've collaborate with just wanted to make sure you were clean and had a good camera.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who when he showed up in the lobby of the hotel he booked, took your breath away. the man was ridiculously gorgeous. not to mention thay voice. god, fuck me sideways he's hot asf.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown took the initiative to started up some small talk as you made your way to the room. he could tell you were nervous, since you were much more talkative on the phone. and he could hear the excitement in your voice. but now you couldn't even look him in the eye. guess he's gonna have to do his best to ease your nerves.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown offered to do most of the heavy lifting like the setting up the cameras, lights, sanitizing the sheets, just whatever prep was needed. all he wanted from you was to get relaxed and ready.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who started you off with a slow heated makeout session. he was a damn good kisser, and his lip piercing made the experience even better. he told you to guide his hands to wherever you wanted them. his hands were much bigger than yours, but still his palms were soft and warm to the touch.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who's breath hitched once you directed one of his hands to cup your clothed cunt. you both stared at each other, both afraid to make any sudden moves.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown did his best to ensured you times that ""jus' say the word love, and all this stops. i won' be disappointed ok?" even though he said it with a half hearted tone, his gaze in his eyes was serious. the last thing he wanted was for you to force yourself.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who was doing his best to ignore the mind numbing throb in his pants, as he waited on your response. you then moved his hand pass the waistband of your panties, so he could put his finger in between your folds. once he did, his eyes grew slightly wide. you were soaked.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who you had to now ensure you were ready. "trust me I want this as much as you do, i promise i do". and with the simplest nod, he went to work.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown, that you found out was a real pussy drunk, had used his tongue to push pass your folds and was now tongue deep in your cunt. his hands pressed your hips further into his face anytime you even squirmed in the slightest. its not like you could help it. he sent the first few minutes searching your inner walls for the spot that made you cry out the loudest. and once he did it was hell to get him off it.

☆ the man, pornstar! hobie brown, was a messy ass eater. you could hear as he suckled hard on your clit. how whenever needed a break would just run his pressed tongue along your slit. and how he would groan whenever your walls tried to push out his tongue whenever you reached your peak.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who reminded you to breathe as you struggled to ease in his length. he knew it would probably be a tight fit, that's why he made sure to coat your cunt with slick and spit before he tried. "don' worry jus' breathe love. shhh i know, but imma need you to relax for me. no it will fit, jus' stay with me now".

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who loved to give you face a light tap whenever your eyes would roll back or you mumbled to him when he asked you a question. he would most definitely grab your chin if he caught you staring at the camera instead of him. he knows it's for the optics, but hell he's the one fucking you dumb, so eyes on him. "don' focus on them. 'm right 'ere love. set thos' pretty eyes on me. trust me please baby. just you and me"

☆ pornstar! hobie brown that loves to run his fucking mouth. you almost told him to shut up, especially since he realized how your walls would pulse around him whenever he so much as let out a groan. what can he say, if he sees an opportunity to make you cum, he'll do whatever it takes.

☆ speaking of cum, pornstar! hobie brown who tell you to open your legs wider so the camera can get a good shot of the mess your cunt made of your inner thighs and his dick. "let 'em see baby, aw look at that. oh i kno' they gonna be so proud of you, but probably not as proud as me. good girl, lemme clean you off." yes he gave you a tongue bath.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who just by fucking you to the edge in some random hotel room, helped you blow up practically overnight. don't be surprised if he hits you up for a part 2. (he would even if there was no camera)

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown x black!reader #atsv hobie #atsv fanfiction #atsv #hobie brown #hobart brown #hobie x reader #☆° via writes °☆#i feel like i need a cigarette yall....and i dont even smoke

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stylesharrys · 3 months

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Special Brownies [Weedrry]

Harry and Y/N accidentally eat their roommates special brownies.

A/N: I came up with this idea very randomly and I have written it as fast as I possibly could lmao anyway, the whole thing is about accidentally getting stoned, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read! If it doesn't, enjoy <333

Warnings: mentions and use of weed (edibles), being high, swearing, kissing, biting, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk.

WC: 2.3k

It’s been a long week and Y/N is feeling it. Between classes and shifts at the cafe, her feet are sore and her mind is tired. She wants nothing more than to cuddle up on the sofa with a good tv show and pass the fuck out.

And tonight is supposed to be her lucky night. Tom has a night shift and Harry has a hot date. No boys, no roommates, no interruptions.

There’s just something about knowing she’s got the flat to herself all night long, and she can lounge about like the lazy girlie her heart yearns to be.

She starts with a long, relaxing her aching body in the hot soapy water until her skin begins to prune. Y/N takes extra time to moisturise her body and brush her hair. Even treats herself to a face mask while she does so.

When she leaves the bathroom, it’s almost 7 p.m. and Tom has already left for work. The apartment is clean, and most importantly, quiet.

She’s a bit too excited in her movement to the sofa, a squeal slipping from her lips. Too caught up in her head, she doesn’t notice Harry leaning against his bedroom door, arms folded across his chest.

It’s not until he clears his throat that Y/N jumps out of her little happy dance with a scream. A smirk sits on his lips, amused by the way she scowls at him.

“What the hell are you doing here! You’re supposed to be out on a date!”

Her tone is accusing, pointer finger jabbing at the air in his direction. She notices his attire; grey shorts and a white hoodie. Y/N’s shoulders slump.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she huffs.

“What? I thought you liked hanging out with me?” Harry follows her to the sofa, sitting on the opposite end of her.

Y/N crosses her arms furiously. “I do! But I was so excited to have the flat to myself for just one night.”

Harry’s brows are raised suggestively, that sick fucking smirk on his lips again. Y/N lunges a pillow at his face. “Not for those reasons, you perv.”

He barks out a laugh, hugging the pillow close to his chest as he props his feet up and on Y/N’s lap. He watches how her bottom lip pouts out and his face softens.

“Look, if you want me to fuck off out for the evening, I can.” Harry offers.

She scoffs. “That is what you were supposed to be doing.” A moment of silence passes and she sighs. “Sorry, that came out rude. I'm not about to kick you out of your own flat – though I am going to force you to watch the last three episodes of The Rookie with me.”

Harry makes no attempt to hide the groan that follows her words. It’s not that he doesn’t like the show, it’s that he hates the show. He’ll never understand Y/N’s weird obsession with emergency services.

First, it was Criminal Minds, then a month later she binge watched 9-1-1 Lone Star in six days. Now she’s on the newest season of The Rookie and he’s sure she only started season one at the beginning of the month?

“Do we have to?” he grumbles.

Y/N throws another pillow at him. “Yes. You’re the one interrupting my night, you could at least do it quietly… and with snacks.”

Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence and Harry has to bite back a grin. She could never be mad at Harry, she loves him and his company far too much. Tom, on the other hand… yeah, she would definitely be mad if it was him crashing her lazy girl night.

Harry stands from the sofa, wandering through to the kitchen. He grabs two bottles of water in one hand and scans his eyes through the cupboards in search for a suitable snack.

They’ve not been shopping for a few days, so there’s only some dry crackers, a half-eaten bag of cashew nuts (ew, Tom), and granola. Harry contemplates ubering some cookies and milkshakes when his eyes land on a bakery box on top of the microwave.

He squints as he reads the writing on the top of the box.

Tom’s. DO NOT EAT!

Harry flips the lid, six thick slices of dewey chocolate brownies. They’re like fucking slabs… he’s sure Tom won’t mind if he and Y/N share just one between them.

He pops a (massive) slice on a plate and toddles back to the kitchen. The show is paused on the opening scene, Y/N shuffled to get comfortable on the sofa. She raises a brow at the snack in question.

“We’re sharing a brownie?”

Harry huffs as he sits. “S’all we’ve got in the kitchen, and they’re Tom’s. Didn’t wanna take the piss when his little sticky note clearly says DO NOT TOUCH!”

Y/N snorts, breaking the brownie in half and handing Harry the bigger slice. She takes a bite, face screwing slightly.

“These taste a little funny… nutmeg, maybe?”

She turns to Harry who doesn’t say anything and still hasn’t taken the brownie. The look on his face irks her. She huffs, swallowing. “I feel bad that your date cancelled on you.”

His eyebrows almost raise to his hairline. “And what makes you think she was the one to cancel?”

“Was she?” Y/N asks.

Harry takes the brownie with a sigh. “Yeah.”

They can’t stop fucking giggling.

The show is long forgotten about, has been for the past thirty minutes. They’re both feeling warm. Harry stripped from his jumper and Y/N changed into some little shorts and one of Harry’s baggy t-shirts.

Neither of them know where this amusement came from, but there is absolutely no calming either of them down. They’re sneakily sharing a second slice of Tom’s brownies; eyes on the door in case for some reason, he comes home an hour after his shift has started.

“They taste so weird, but I can’t stop eating it.”

Harry chokes out a laugh, eyes welling with tears because he just finds Y/N so fucking funny tonight.

She’s a mess too, eyes squinted and shoulders hunched as she laughs uncontrollably. They’re both crossed-legged on the living room floor, knees knocking gently.

The more she chews, the more she begins to recognise that unfamiliar taste… the way it lingers on her tongue. Her laughter slows for a moment, as if realisation is beginning to dawn on her.

She stares at Harry with wide eyes and parted lips, mouth still full.

“Oh, my god.”

“What?”

“They’re fucking weed brownies!”

Harry can’t breathe, struggles to look away from the fear and shock on Y/N’s face. His whole body begins to shake with laughter and Y/N finds herself following.

“Harry, it’s not funny!” she shrieks. “This is so bad, Harry.”

She’s laughing through her words. Even she can’t take herself seriously in this state.

“D’you wanna play Just Dance?”

Harry’s words only make her laugh harder. The remainder of her brownie is thrown at his naked torso. Harry wastes no time to tackle her to the ground, hovering between her legs as he tickles her sides.

He's blowing raspberries on her neck, eliciting loud cackles from her mouth. Y/N tugs at his hair, her legs flailing around his hips when he nips at the skin on her throat.

They don’t say anything. She continues to chuckle, and Harry continues to bite.

Their laughter has fizzled out into breathy giggles. Neither of them are sure when Harry’s bites turned into kisses. When their fingers became intertwined. When her legs closed around his middle.

And neither of them say a fucking thing about it.

Harry’s lips travel up her neck and across her jaw. She finds his mouth feverishly, nothing but tongue and teeth but to the pair of them, it’s the best kiss they’ve ever had.

They’re needy, hot and wanton all of a sudden. Like a switch has been flipped and they’re clinging to one another like lifelines.

Harry holds her hands above her head, fingers tangled. He’s hard, rock hard. Pressing into Y/N’s tiny fucking shorts so much he’s sure he can feel her arousal through both of their clothes.

He ruts against her, testing the waters. The moan he receives sends all blood down south. He’s always known sex to be incredible when you’re high. The thought of him sharing it with her? God, he could bust there and then.

He releases her hands so he can feel up her thighs, skin hot and smooth. Their lips don’t separate, not once. She lets her hands fall into his curls, nails scratching at his scalp and she tugs at the roots.

Harry’s moaning into her mouth, eager and desperate for more. He takes her shorts off quickly and strategically. So quickly that she doesn’t notice until she feels a cool breeze between her thighs.

Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head, more than ready for whatever the fuck he wants to do to her.

They haven’t hesitated, not once. Not until Harry's hands are at the waistband of his shorts and he wonders if he should grab a condom or just go down on her. He knows she’s on the pill, just like they both know they’re both clean.

Harry gets tested once a month and Y/N doesn’t sleep around.

She answers his inner turmoil for him and tugs his shorts down the best she can. Harry breaks the kiss for a split second to tug his shorts to his knees. He’s back to kissing her as quickly as he pulled away, tongue against hers. Hot and messy.

Y/N feels his tip twitch against her clit, an airy sigh echoing into Harry’s mouth. He lets his fingers swirl around her wetness, smearing it across her smooth cunt and coating his thick shaft in her arousal.

They’re panting messes, eager, desperate and horny.

When he lines himself at her entrance, she locks her legs around his waist. Harry bumps forward, a shrill cry slipping from between their lips at the sensation of one another.

Harry wants to give her a moment to adjust, but Y/N doesn’t. She wants it hot and hard. She wants the pain. She wants to feel every fucking inch of him.

She probably should’ve warned Harry how she gets when she’s high. How much of a whiny, cock-hungry whore she can become. Then again, how was she supposed to know they’d accidentally eat their roommates special brownies?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry chokes as he bottoms out.

Y/N’s struggling to catch her breath but she’s never loved the burn in her lungs more. “Fuck me, H.”

He twitches inside her. “Fuck me hard.”

His hips begin to roll, cock nuzzling itself deep inside her. He can feel everything. Every bump, dip, swell. God, she’s fucking soaked, leaking down to the floor but neither of them care.

Harry slowly begins to quicken his pace, arms bent at the elbows either side of Y/N’s head to prop himself up. She doesn’t loosen her legs around his hips. She needs him as close as he can possibly get.

Even his cock buried to the brim in her cunt isn’t enough. She needs his soul touching hers.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” she breathes. “You gonna fuck my tight cunt, baby? Fuck me like you own me.”

He can’t believe his fucking ears. He’s always found Y/N attractive, but never in his wildest fucking dreams did he expect her to be this goddamn filthy.

Harry loves it.

His thrusts grow harsher. She has no time to catch her breath between hits, her mouth in a constant state of slack – eyes rolled back and eyebrows pinched.

“My perfect little cunt.” Harry seethes.

The noises of her pussy are like electric waves in Harry’s ears. He feels them in his soul, like sparks and jolts. He’s never felt more alive.

He’s fucking into her manically. Behind closed eyes all he can see shapes and colours of need and desire. Sex has always been good, always been great high. But this? Fuck, he’s never felt something so otherwordly.

He never wants it to end, wants to spend the rest of his life fucking her like a whore. She’s tugging his hair, likely making his scalp bleed but he loves it. He’d bleed a fucking river just to feel her cunt around him again.

“I’m gonna come!”

Her words awaken something animalistic within Harry. Like his life depends on feeling her release around him – like it’s what he was born to experience.

He chases her high, nipping and suckling on her neck, fucking into her cunt as fast as his restrained hips will allow. Y/N’s a blubbering mess, a sight Harry never wants to forget.

Fuck, he doesn’t think he could if he tried. This will forever be etched into his mind – her face, her body, her perfect cunt. Jesus, he’s never been so into sex in his life.

Her body begins to tremble uncontrollably, legs locked tight around his middle as she cries his name and pours over him.

Harry’s gruff and desperate moans mix with hers. She’s impossibly tighter, squeezing him; begging him to never let her feel anything but full ever again.

Harry wants to die buried in her cunt.

It takes every single fucking ounce of willpower he has to pull out and release across her thighs – painting the filthiest picture anyone could imagine.

It’s a struggle for either of them to catch their breaths. Hot and heavy panting that soon turns into light laughter, that even sooner, turns into contagious giggles.

Their bodies shake with every chuckle, Harry’s mouth ghosting hers until he nips on her bottom lip.

“We are never to talk about this, understood?”

He grins widely. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

She hums, eyes full of lust. Harry’s still achingly hard, despite coming more than he ever has before. He dips his head to her neck, sucking at her soft skin. His cock twitches against her thigh and she breathes deeply, blinks slowly.

“You wanna go again?” his voice is muffled by her neck.

She grins, legs wrapping back around his middle.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

let me know what you thought!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #imagine harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

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luveline · 14 days

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hi love! i absolutely adore ur writing and u should be so so proud of it. anyway i was just thinking about coworker james when readers car wont start in the parking lot and he like takes a look at it and is under the hood and reader is just like "oh...😍" cause the muscles are OUT and shes down bad

ty lovely 💌 fem

“Oh,” you say, “of course.”

You drop your face into your steering wheel and sigh. An annoyed burst of sound, not cute or feminine or fun, a grunt of defeat. This sucks. Work sucks, life sucks, your car not starting is the least of your worries and yet somehow the most prevalent.

How am I gonna get home? you think to yourself, defeated.

“Hey!” someone calls. Jogging, the last person you want to see in the world right now stopping at your door. James frowns at you. “It’s not starting?”

You pop your door, careful not to pop him at the same time. “How’d you know?”

“I heard the engine turn over.”

“It’s making a clicking sound,” you say, twisting the key so he can hear it.

“It’s dead, probably. Your battery.”

James has an odd way of talking occasionally, as though you’ve started a conversation and he’s adding onto it. Remus says it's ADHD. You like it no matter what it is and despite yourself —it’s getting harder to pretend you don’t like him. Like, you hate him, he’s annoying beyond explanation, but your more positive feelings for him are heavy and ever present. So, so heavy.

“I’ll pull my car up and we can give it a jumpstart,” he says. “Easy fix.”

“You don’t have to go?”

“What?”

“You have rugby today.”

“Oh, no, it's the off season now.” He smiles and you don’t get why. “Let me go get the car.”

James jogs back to his car and brings it next to yours. Everybody who isn’t Human Resources or security has left already, leaving the car park practically empty, ample room for him to park beside you. He gets back out.

“I don’t have, uh, cables,” you say.

James gives you a smile that is as patronising as it is attractive. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful. I have everything you need.”

He feels along the edge of your hood, pops the seal, pushes it up into the air, and hooks the prop rod into place. He’s clearly done it before, and the whole while you’re watching his arm. His rolled sleeves draw attention to the tightness at his bicep, and the moving ligament and muscle of his tricep as he leans into the engine to look things over. “I’m no mechanic, but I do know everything, and I thought maybe things were a bit hot but your engine’s stone cold.”

“So it’s definitely the battery?”

“Probably.” He scratches his jaw, peering curiously into the guts of it all. “When was the last time somebody looked in here?” he asks, squinting at you, unaware that he’s the finest thing you’ve ever seen.

Your breath gets caught.

“Have you ever had it looked at?” he asks, concerned.

“I… maybe I did. I think so.”

“You’re supposed to have it looked at every year? For MOT?”

“I know, I thought you meant before that.” He’s distracting.

James looks you over. “It’s fine,” he says emphatically, “even if I can’t fix your battery, I can still drive you home. You’re panicking for no reason.”

“Right.” Panicking! Yes, this is panic.

“Listen, can you get the jump leads from my boot? I have to open the hood.” He gestures for you to go. You do as he’s asked, wobbly, and struggle when you get there to actually open it. You slides your fingers under his car's emblem and flinch as it flies up past your face.

His boot is surprisingly well organised. There’s a duffel bag to one side half-zipped that showcases a flash of red and white uniform, a pair of formal shoes, a dark jacket folded and hidden behind the bag. You want to be nosey and you don’t want him to think you’re stupid. You rush to grab the cables and almost clip yourself on the boot as you duck from under the boot and round the car.

James smiles when he sees you. No indication that you’re an imposition, it’s sort of like you’re two friends.

He pushes his sleeves farther up and digs in. It’s awful, what business does he have looking so sharply put together? You hadn’t thought you were preferential to muscle until right this moment watching James move around your engine like an expert.

“What are your plans tonight?”

Your palms are hot behind your back. “I was thinking I’d watch a new movie.”

“That sounds fun.” He ducks away from the engine. “I don’t watch many movies.”

“What do you do with all your time?”

“Argue with Sirius about who’s turn it is to wash the dishes.”

You startle. “You and Sirius live together?”

James laughs and pulls the leads to his own engine. “You didn’t know that?”

“You come in different cars.”

“I come in much earlier than he does. And after work he and Remus always have things to do. It’s weird, isn’t it, how couples are always busy? I feel like I never do anything.” James grins at you. “This is interesting, at least. My Friday night isn’t a total waste.”

James gets into his car and you into yours. With some fiddling, pleading, and a strange noise, he manages to push life back into your car. His smile when it works is his worst one to date, elated and shockingly handsome.

That Monday, against your better judgement, you bring him a little carrot cake in a tin. A thank you card felt like too much.

To his credit, he doesn’t brag to anyone that he saved you. He says thank you for the cake with another real smile, and for some reason, despite the mild weather, he rolls his sleeves up at his desk. Almost like he noticed you…

Well, he couldn’t have. Right?

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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ceilidho · 6 months

Text

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 4. (read 1, 2, 3) tags: dubcon; nsfw

You only realize after the fact that you may have miscalculated in thinking that this could be a one-time thing between the two of you.

After listening to Johnny bitch and moan during the Christmas party about having to take time off work to spend the holidays with his very religious family, you delude yourself into thinking you’ll finally be able to have some peace and quiet around the store. Not literally, of course. Working during the holidays is always a recipe for exhaustion—parents coming in at the last minute to demand toys that have long since sold out, fights breaking out in every other aisle as customers fight for the last palatable set of Christmas ornaments and boxed fruit cake.

You’re not delusional enough to think that work will be a piece of cake, but you are selfishly a little happy that you’ll finally get some time to breathe without Johnny hovering over your shoulder at all hours of your shift. Seasonal shoppers are as exhausting as always, but you get to sit alone in the breakroom with a cup of coffee in the morning right before your shift without someone staring at you or breathing into your personal bubble.

Johnny spends his entire time off blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of his childhood home, calling you during your breaks, and sending you weird videos that seem to have been filmed entirely in the dark where you can’t see or hear anything apart from some weird squeaks and one loud grunt at the very end of the video that sounds kind of like—you close the video.

You spend the first few days of January dreading his return. The day of is like a shock to your nervous system, the whole morning spent pouring coffee with a trembling hand.

“Hiya gorgeous,” he purrs when you clock in for your shift. You’re somewhat used to Johnny sneaking up behind you, so you don’t flinch this time when you feel the length of his body press up against you at the time clock.

“Johnny, it’s seven in the morning,” you mutter out through pursed lips, shoulders stiff when he puts his hands on them and digs his thumbs into the tender points of your back. You bite back a moan.

“Missed ye, kitten. Cannae believe I went a whole week without hearing you purr.”

He could’ve phrased that a thousand other ways, but he just had to choose the one that would make you wince. He digs his thumbs in again, trying to push the moan out of you, but you tamp it down. You hold back a shudder when he plants his nose onto the crown of your head and inhales, drawing your scent into his lungs.

“Where’ye assigned ta today? Jeff owes me a favour—gonna ask him if I can spend the day with ye so we can catch up.”

You go still when he drops a firm kiss to the side of your head. “I’m…not sure. I haven’t checked the schedule yet.” It’s a half-lie. You may not have checked the schedule yet, but you know from having briefly chatted with your manager this morning in the parking lot where you’ll be spending most of your day.

Still, it means that you get to shake off Johnny for a bit. “Lemme go check for ye, okay, hen? Stay here, a’right?”

You watch him jog off down the hall to the breakroom before finally leaving. It’ll be better for you if you’re gone before he comes back.

The first hour of your day is spent on softlines until Priya in jewellery randomly comes down with a chill and gets sent home early, forcing you to cover her section. Usually that wouldn’t be such a bad deal—it means you get to spend your shift helping people try on bracelets and rings, restocking the earring display, and leaning against the counter for hours at a time. It’s not a particularly busy station.

While you're assigned to the jewellery section though, Johnny pops out of nowhere as you're helping a customer contemplating a birthday ring for his fiancé. With the kind of confidence that you’ve come to expect from Johnny, he uses your hand to model some of the rings, but this time it feels oddly weirdly intense. When he slides the first ring onto your finger, you can feel the way he holds his breath, even shudders a bit. He presses himself right up against you behind the display counter, hardness pressing against your hip.

It doesn’t take long for your customer to leave. Johnny’s demeanour is off-putting, concerning even. You can’t fault the guy for being rightfully repulsed by the way Johnny crowds up against you like you’re alone together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss through your teeth.

“Cannae help it, hen. I ken ye wanna wait, but it jus’ makes me a bit emotional seein’ my girl wearing a ring I put on.”

He blinks down at you with big, blue eyes, the picture of innocence. You should’ve anticipated there being a danger in letting Johnny stew over that on his own. Of course he’d come to his own conclusions, even one as deranged as thinking of your hook up as a step towards dating. You can’t help but side eye him.

“We—we’re not a couple, Johnny.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Ye just let anybody eat you out in the supply closet then? S’that right?” It’s said rhetorically, like he knows the answer already. You flinch at the slight though.

“That was—” you cut yourself off to take a breath, an ache growing behind your forehead, “—that was a…it was a one-time thing. You can’t just act like we’re dating.”

His lips turn down in a pout, displeasure rippling across his face. You brace yourself for the inevitable argument, for shit to hit the fan, because obviously that’s what’s brewing under the surface. You brace yourself for worse too because when you happen to glance around, you realize how few people are actually milling around in the area.

Then, instead of losing his temper, Johnny’s eyes grow smoky, heavy-lidded, and the pout lifts into a lazy, playful grin. “A’right, kitty, no’ dating then. That’s fine wi’ me.”

This time it’s you that frowns, staring up at him dubiously. “…Really?” It feels too sudden, quicksilver. Johnny’s fiery by nature, short tempered on his best days and more likely to grit his teeth and bear the displeasure of not getting his way than happily giving into it. His sudden smile is at odds with the version of him that exists in your mind, furious at you for denying him.

Maybe you’ve got him all wrong.

The gleam in his eye betrays nothing, however. “I swear.” He leans closer to you then, fingers fiddling with the name tag pinned over your chest on your work vest, straightening it. “Doesnae mean we have ta give the rest up though. Ye liked what we did in the closet, right, hen?”

It feels like he’s sucked the air out of the room, as big as it is. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“Och, c’mon, kitty,” Johnny breathes, hunching just a little over and into your space, making the moment feel private, just the two of you. “Had to talk about it eventually. Did ye just expect that everything would go back to normal after ye let me eat ye out? Hey—” he catches you when you try to make a move to step away from him, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and tugging you closer to him, “—listen, kitty—it doesnae have to be anything serious, right? That’s what’s making ye all jumpy and nervous? I’ll lick your pussy, free of charge. Dinnae need any labels. How’s that sound, kitty? Dick on demand?”

It should repulse you. The way he speaks to you is crass, crude. His voice is hushed, haggard, fur stretched taut over stone—and yet, your hands tremble, just a little. It tempts you. Purring Scottish burr, lapis lazuli eyes, bristle cheeks that you still remember scraping up your inner thighs. He’s a package you can’t imagine sending back.

“You won’t get…you promise not to get weird about it?” you ask.

His smile curls up, impish. “Cross my heart, kitten.”

Maybe you’re delusional enough to think that you can have your cake and eat it too. There’s a voice in your head telling you to face the facts, but you disregard it as if you haven’t been working with Johnny for months. As if you aren’t aware of his penchant for saying or doing anything to get his way. It’s maybe naive of you.

All you know is that he smothers a laugh when you tell him you’ll think about it. Knows he’s got you right where he wants.

You don’t fight when he drags you into the single-stall bathroom towards the end of your shift, letting him position you in front of the mirror before sinking to his knees behind you. Forces you to watch the way you come apart on his tongue, not giving you his fingers until you beg him to, the whispered plea a hairsbreadth away from becoming a scream.

“Oh, did she miss me?” Johnny breathes, a happy laugh in his voice when he runs the broad side of his tongue over your entrance from the back. “Fuck, look at that. Winked at me ‘n everythin’. Hi darling, missed ye too.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be the same after hearing that come out of his mouth. You go hot all over again when you clench involuntarily, equal parts turned on and horrified. He sniggers before trying to cram his whole tongue up into you.

There’s a moment of panic when Johnny draws up behind you after making you come and you hear him undo his pants. There’s nowhere for you to go with your pants still looped around your ankles, underwear pulled all the way down as well. You hear yourself hiss a startled Johnny when he slots a fat cock between your thighs, staring dumbly at the reflection of him behind you. At your back, he seems massive, lean and trim but towering over you, broad.

He shushes you. “Dinnae be selfish, hen—gotta get mine too. Jus’ gonna fuck your thighs, dinnae fret.”

You squeak when he pushes your thighs together forcefully, dragging his cock over your folds to wet himself. Watching Johnny fuck is nothing like staring down at him when he eats you out. He pants harsh and ragged into the side of your head, nips at your ear. The glint in his eyes goes animalistic, vacant. Human desire recedes, subsumed into the animal part of his brain with the single-minded need to fuck.

The only thing keeping him from driving up into you, accidentally or not, is the way you keep your thighs pressed together. A warm, tight channel for him to push his cock into. Thick fingers dig into your waist, sure to leave bruises. You wince when lean hips pound against your backside, growing frantic as need overtakes him. You flirt at the edge of panic, certain that at any second, he’ll pull your thighs apart and nudge the head of his cock up into you.

“Jus’ like that, fuck,” he grunts. “Be a good little fuckin’ girl and jus’ let me—”

His tongue lolls out on a particularly rough thrust, hands groping over your belly and up to your chest, slipping his hand under your shirt and bra to pinch your nipple. He twists it mean, nasty, until you have no choice but to grunt through grit teeth, eyes watering. You feel like a doll meant for his pleasure, no choice but to grip the sides of the sink and let Johnny use you until he comes.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, eyes going half-lidded. “Love makin’ this pussy come. Love gettin’ her all messy and wet. Lettin’ me between your thighs even when I make ye nervous—fuck, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

White come stripes the sink in front of you, thick and viscous. Paints the inside of your thighs as well when he drags his hips back until just the head of his cock sits nestled up against your sex. Hyperconscious of where it tags your inner lips, that there’s no barrier between the two of you, just come and skin.

The full body shake shocks you, a ripple from your heels to the top of your head.

His free hand grasps you by the hair when you try to slip away. “Ye gonna clean up your mess, baby?”

You glance back up at his reflection in the mirror, trying to suss him out. Shark-like eyes meet yours. Something you’ve seen in glances before finally staring back at you with full force. You reach for the paper towel dispenser with a shaking hand.

“Nah,” Johnny scolds, giving you a shake. “With your mouth.”

The command hangs in the air, no joke or laugh to undercut it. His eyes read serious to you, still dark. No leniency present in the blue.

You stare down at his come on the sink, slack-jawed. “You don’t seriously mean—”

“Jus’ kidding, silly,” he chuckles, giving a teasing bite to your earlobe and tugging. The tension in the air disperses. “Got ye, huh?”

You force a laugh. “Yeah…got me.”

#i cant believe this shit is at 10k and i still have another part to write #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x you #soap/reader #ikea soap

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flor4de4amor · 19 days

Note

hockey!abby with the reader being her biggest fan prompt 🫣🫣

click for palestine | boycott tlou!!! | read b4 engaging w me

ok i changed the prompt up a little bit again, but i promisseeeee it's the last time!!!! (it's probably not but shh!!)

you’re almost at every single one of abby’s games. it’s always easy for her to spot you. you’re sectioned off in the front, in one of her old hoodies. at any free moment she has on the ice, abby skates by your section, blowing a kiss, that you eagerly pretend to catch.

but the key word is almost. this is one of the few games you’ve missed since you and abby have been going steady. even when she used to play college hockey, and you had a silly little crush on her, you’d do your best to show up at the games. hiding somewhere in the back row of watchers, but still keeping an eye out for your favorite player.

your absence was definitely noted this game. abby had been missing shots, which was quite unusual for her. her teammates teasing her, asking if she needed her good luck charm. to which her answer is yes. a resounding, bolded, large, all caps, yes.

who was she gonna blow kisses to? who was gonna come rub her back in the locker room after the game? williams better not try it. abby’ll bite her head off, and you’ll never hear the last of it. abby can’t remember the last time she’s played without you watching. you’re her favorite trophy to show off. all pretty, with a wide smile, and gorgeous for her to brandish for anyone who’ll listen.

the game is rough, for a lack of better words. the team loses,by a lot. too much for abby’s liking. she drives home, her fist pounding her steering wheel. occasionally at a red light while releasing anger onto the battered wheel, she hits the horn. stirring her from the storm of anger, and causing a cluster of horns following hers. the cars are speaking for their agitated drivers. abby sighs as she pulls into your shared driveway. the last thing she wants to hear you say is that you watched the game.

she sees your blurred frame on the couch through the window film of the front door. she sees you jolt up as her keys jingle through the hole, unlocking the door. you sit up drowsily, your nose agitated as you’ve been blowing it through the better half of the week. flu season had captured you as it’s latest victim.

“i saw the game baby,” you say with a raspy throat and nasally voice. abby sighs, and allows her head to hang to the floor. she should’ve known better paying for the extra hulu subscription. of course you’d use it. she’s mentally kicking herself. “you played really good baby,” you tell her sitting half up wrapped up in your favorite blanket.

she snorts, “sure,” she replies sarcastically.

“i’d kiss you better but i’m so sick right now, lovie.” you blow her a ton of kisses with your hands, though your dominant limb clutches an array of crumpled tissues.

she catches them, pulling them to her heart. “you miss one game and you’re stealing all my moves?” she raises her eyebrow at you.

you toss your hand at her dismissively. “i’m allowed,” you say with a playful closed lip smile.

“one kiss won’t hurt me,” abby rolls her eyes. pressing a soft one on your forehead, and another to the corner of your mouth. “i’ve built up my immune system,” she tells you offhandedly. “ate dirt when i was a kid,” she laughs to herself. bullshit, but, whatever. “so you saw the game?” she fiddles with her thumbs, and avoids eye contact for a minute. when talking about her sport, this was when you’d catch abby at some of her most vulnerable.

“uhuh,” you tell her after catching a sneeze into the corner of your forearm. “‘scuse me,” you mumble.

“you’re ‘scused pretty,” abby replies while waiting for a further in depth answer than ‘uhuh.’

“you did such a good job baby,” you smile at her tiredly. “you shouldn’t beat yourself up too much. you really can’t win them all.”

“that’s insulting,” she smiles at you. “i definitely can. i just need my good luck charm.”

“i don’t do not a thing. it’s all you on the ice abs. don’t give me too much credit,” you say before having a slew of coughs.

“hey,” abby says putting a stern mask in her voice, “don’t pick on my favorite groupie now,” she burst out into laughter.

“i won’t make a habit of it, if you can make me some hot tea. my throat’s killing me.” abby nods her head, kissing your forehead once more and setting the kettle up. who was she to even deny her biggest fan, same one who stayed up late watching her girl’s game on her deathbed? abby’s mean, but not a monster.

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quintinh43 · 2 months

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How It All Began | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinns family finally finds out that Him and y/n are together. Featuring our local B.c. boy, the one and only Mat Barzal. Based loosely off of this.

Parings: Quinn Hughes x Teacher!Fem!Reader

Warnings: None I think. Maybe some anxious feelings. Part of this universe but can be read as a stand alone.

Wc: 5.7k

The door clicks shut, breaking your focus and signifying that Quinn is home from practice. As he passes by the couch, he drops a kiss to your head, ruffling your hair as he goes. "Hi baby," he murmurs quietly, not wanting to disturb you while you mark math tests.

"Hi Q," you say off-handedly, grimacing as you circle another question in red and write down the correct answer. This poor kid is going to need some extra help. You quickly scan your attendance list and put a star beside his name.

Quinn busies himself by taking a quick shower and cutting up some fruit as a snack before he flops on the couch and pillows his head on your thigh. Your fingers automatically delve into his hair, rubbing at his scalp soothingly. He lets out a contented sigh as he snatches the TV remote and navigates to YouTube to play some sort of educational video that will make his brain work.

Occasionally, he holds a piece of fruit up for you, and you take it without hesitation, often catching his fingers between your teeth playfully. Halfway through a video about Moser's circle problem, he pauses it and takes the pen and paper from your hand, setting them on the coffee table neatly.

"Sorry to disrupt your marking, babe," he says softly, holding up a strawberry for you in a sort of apology, "I have a question for you." His tongue darts against his lip in a nervous habit as he awaits your response.

"All good, baby; I could use a break anyway." You smile, happily taking the slice of strawberry into your mouth. You lean down and kiss the corner of his mouth sweetly, hoping to alleviate some of his nerves, "What's your question?"

"Will you come to Michigan with me this summer? I know you usually say no, but now you're my girlfriend, and I don't wanna spend the summer without you. I mean, I understand if you don't wanna, and I won't push, but it'd really mean a lot to me to have you there and-"

Your smile grows as he rambles, and you cut him off with a kiss. "Yes, Quinn, I'll come to Michigan with you this summer and for every summer after that, as long as you'll have me,"

The smile Quinn gives you is dazzling and filled with love, "for the rest of our lives?"

"For the rest of our lives," you confirm, sealing your lips over his in another sweet kiss. You pull away for air, smoothing his hair down with a smile. "Now make yourself useful and help me mark these tests," you say nudging him into a sitting position.

"Tyrant," he mutters, though he can barely keep the smile off his face. He splits the remainder of the stack of tests in half and slides a pile over to you. You give him the answer key, already having memorized most of the answers and the two of you work comfortably side by side. After the stack of tests is marked you hand Quinn your trusty sticker book, and he lights up as he takes it from you, he places a sticker on each test with such care it makes your heart melt.

The remainder of the evening passes by in the blissful peace of each other's company, and soon the two of you are curled around each other, fast asleep on the couch.

The months fly by as the weather grows warmer, and the canucks are in the playoffs. It's a bit of an adjustment, dealing with the chaos of the end of the school year while Quinn captains a playoff team, but if the pair of you are good at anything, it's adapting to what life throws at you.

Soon, hockey season is over, and it's the last day of the school year. Honestly, you are just as happy as the kids. The day flies by in a whirlwind of fun, and soon enough, you're hugging your students goodbye and promising you'll visit them in their class next year. You'll never admit it, but it makes you feel a little emotional every time.

Quinn picks you up from school with a bouquet of flowers and two slices of pie from the shop downtown that the two of you reserve exclusively for special occasions. Quinn leans over the center console and plants a sweet kiss on your lips, turning you to putty in his arms.

"Happy last day of school, Ms. Y/l/n," he smirked, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to your cheek.

You can't help the giggle that falls from your lips, and you lace your fingers with his as he drives to Prospect Point. You pick a place on the sea wall for the two of you to sit and prepare to feast on the pie.

"To the best summer of our lives," Quinn grins, tapping his pie against yours. You smile, your heart full, and you dig in.

"How do you know it'll be the best summer of our lives?" You tease, watching the boats on the water.

"Because for the first time," Quinn murmurs with a grin, taking your chin between his pointer finger and thumb to make you look at him, "we'll be spending it together," he places a gentle kiss on your lips and you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him close.

"I love you, Quintin," you hum with a smile.

"I love you too, Y/n," he leans against you, and you thread your fingers through his hair as you watch boats drift along the waterline, lit by the glow of the setting sun. And at that moment, everything was right in the world.

The sun disappears over the horizon, and Quinn wraps his arm over your shoulders as you walk back to the car, "we gotta get you packed," he mumbles against your hair.

"Ugh, don't remind me," you groan. "I hate packing,"

"Well, I already told you you could bring a small bag and I'll take you shopping when we get to Mich, but somebody didn't like that idea," he sasses, nipping at your ear.

You flick him in the nose, scowling, "Shut up,"

"Yes, ma'am," he smirks.

As soon as you get home, Quinn wastes no time, pulling out a suitcase for you as you go through the list of what you need to pack. Quinn leaves you to it, knowing that there's a method to your madness, and the only thing he can do to help is sit there and look pretty.

He's lounging on the bed while piles of clothing surround you. As you start neatly packing things into the suitcase you go through the pile of swimsuits once more, "Are you sure I need this many swimsuits?" You ask skeptically, for what is probably the third time.

"Yes, babe. We are on the water almost every day," he says again. His answer still the same as the last time you asked.

"Oh!" You spring up with a smile on your face and saunter to the closet, "I just remembered..."

"Remembered what, babe?" Quinn asks curiously, rolling over on the bed so he's no longer looking at you upside down as you emerge from the closet with a blue plastic card. You present it to him with a big smile.

He squints his eyes, snatching the card from your hands. "Is this real?"

You scoff. "Of course, it's real."

"No fucking way," Quinn says, wide-eyed, flipping it over and inspecting the back of it, "We have known each other for so long, and you never mentioned you had a boat license."

You roll your eyes and plant yourself in the middle of your piles of clothing again while Quinn inspects your very real boating license. "I basically grew up on the Okanagan, of course, I have a boat license."

"Oh baby, Jack just got demoted from first mate," he chuckles, grin spreading wide.

You giggle as you pack everything into the suitcase, "I'm excited to see everyone. It's been way too long."

"Speaking of seeing everyone..." he trails off, nervously fiddling with his fingers, "I didn't tell them about us yet. Or that you're coming."

Confusion is written on your features as you look at him. Your heart stutters a little. He notices the look on your face and is quick to tamper your worries. "I just- I wanted to tell them in person. You're so important to me and to my family as well, and it didn't feel right to tell them over the phone, you know?"

"I'm nervous." You say quietly, zipping up your suitcase after you've packed everything into it. Quinn stands, pulling you into his arms, you melt into the warmth of his body and loop your arms around his back.

"They already love you, baby, don't even worry," he says, planting a sweet kiss on your hair. You sigh against his chest and let the beat of his heart calm your nerves. His hands stroke your back in soothing circles, and he starts to sway the two of you back and forth.

"Alexa, play Heaven by Bryan Adams," Quinn says just loud enough for the device to pick up his voice. You smile into his chest as soft music fills the room, and all of a sudden, tears well at the corners of your eyes because this is everything you have ever dreamed of and more.

"I love you so much, Quinn," you murmur against his shirt, "more than I have words for."

Quinn pulls away, cupping your face and kissing the tears from your cheeks, "don't cry, baby," he says earnestly, not knowing the reason for your tears.

"Happy tears," you choke out with a smile, nuzzling your cheek against his hand with a happy sigh. He pulls you back into his chest and sways to the music until the song is over. You stand on your tip toes and press a sweet kiss to his lips. He smiles against your mouth "Gotta finish packing sweets," he mutters, squeezing your waist. You nip at his lip playfully, and he pulls away with an overdramatic hiss.

"Why'd you have to remind me?" You pout, crossing your arms against your chest.

Quinn chuckles, smoothing his tongue along his bottom lip, "Come on, babe, I know you won't be able to relax until you get it done. Plus, now it's just your airplane bag, and then you're free."

You sigh, knowing he's correct, as you gather the things that need to go in your backpack. Your iPad, current book, AirPods, chargers, wallet, passport, and all the other important stuff that need to go in your backpack. Quinn rolls your suitcase by the door, and you place your backpack on top of it, finally done packing for the night.

"How are we getting to the airport?" You ask, mouth full of toothpaste as you and Quinn prepare for bed side by side. Quinn's hair is held back by one of those silly skincare headbands.

You can't help but snap a photo of the two of you. Quinn patted his face dry with a towel, brown curls were pushed back by a lavender headband, you had your toothbrush hanging half out of your mouth, and your hair was pushed back with a matching blue headband.

Quinn rolls his eyes fondly and presses a kiss to your cheek and you snap another photo with a giggle. Domestic Quinn is your favourite Quinn because he's all yours. No one else gets to see him like this.

Quinn finishes drying his face, "Hmm, I think Barzy said he would take us, I'll text him and double-check."

It takes a minute for the nickname to place, but as soon as it does, you whip around to face him, a piece of floss stuck between your teeth, "Barzy? As in Barzal? Like Matthew Barzal of the New York Islanders?"

Quinn looks at you strangely, "What other Barzal's do you know?"

"Since when are you buddies with Mat Barzal?" You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

Quinn furrows his brows, trying to recall when he became friends with Mat, "Since I moved to Vancouver? I swear you knew this?"

"No, I didn't," you shake your head, throwing your floss in the garbage.

"His family lives in Coquitlam. I usually pick him up from the airport when he flies in if I'm still in Vancouver," he shrugs. He swore you knew all of this. Then again, this is the first time he's been around this far into the off-season. He unusually catches the first possible flight out to Michigan, but this time, he stuck around until you were finished teaching.

Your eyes light up in recognition. "Is that the 'Matty' you pick up from the airport every year?" You ask as all the pieces click into place.

Quinn nods, flipping off the bathroom light and texting mat while you curl up on your respective side of the bed, holding the quilt up for him to slip underneath. "Mat says he'll drop us off," Quinn says, ensuring his alarm is set before he plugs his phone in and slips under the covers beside you.

As always, you curl into his side, and he wraps his arm around you, bringing you as close to his chest as possible, stroking patterns along your arm. You toss your leg over his hip, and his other hand finds its home on your leg.

"Night baby, I love you," you whisper against his chest.

"I love you too," he says, pressing a kiss to your hair.

The morning brings a whirlwind of chaos. Making sure neither of you forgot anything important, triple checking to be sure there's nothing left in the fridge that will go bad, amongst other things. There's a knock on the door while Quinn ensures everything is unplugged around the apartment.

"Ready to go?" Quinn asks as he's locking the apartment door. It's a rhetorical question; it's time to go whether you are ready or not, but the fact that he still cares enough to ask makes your chest warm.

"Yeah," you sigh, locking your fingers with his. He squeezes your hand and gives you a reassuring smile as the two of you walk to the awaiting car of Mat Barzal. He pops the trunk, and Quinn hoists your suitcase into the back.

You slip into the back seat, leaving the passenger side for Quinn. Mat whips towards you with a grin, tilting his head so he can see you over the rims of his sunglasses. "You must be the missus," he sticks his hand out for you to shake, "it's good to finally meet you. Huggy never shuts up about you."

You smile, shaking his hand, "Good to meet you too, Mat. I can't believe Quinn has never introduced us before now,"

Quinn slips into the passenger seat, rolling his eyes. "Cause I knew you two would get along like a house on fire, and frankly, that's something out of my nightmares."

"Oh hush, Huggy," Mat produces a tray from seemingly out of nowhere carrying three takeout cups, "drink your green juice before you pop a vein," he says, handing Quinn the cup with some healthy-looking green juice in it. Quinn takes the cup with a grumble.

"And for the lady," Mat produces a cup of coffee, "I hope you like hazelnut lattes. Quinn didn't text me back fast enough about your coffee order, so this is what I got."

"This is perfect, thank you." You say, taking the cup from him, incredibly happy now that you have your hands on some caffeine.

"Thanks for feeding my girlfriend's addiction you ass," Quinn grumbles. His tone is teasing, and his words are light-hearted, but it's funny how Mat sticks out his bottom lip in an offended pout.

"It's not an addiction!" You protest with a gasp, keeping your coffee close to your chest as if Quinn might try to steal it.

The rest of the ride to the airport is filled with friendly banter and you and Mat exchange numbers. Quinn pretends it's the worst thing to happen, but secretly, he's happy that you and Mat are getting along.

Mat steps out to do the bro hug thing with Quinn and then grabs your suitcase from the car. Mat pulls you into a side hug, "It was good to meet you, Missus. I know you probably know this, but Quinn loves you a lot. He wears his love for you on his face, which is surprising considering that he's... well, he's Quinn." Mat says with an awkward chuckle.

It's surprising to hear from someone else. You'd never really thought about how Quinn looks at you in public. To you, he's sassy, and he talks a lot. He wears his emotions on his sleeve, and he isn't afraid to make his feelings known. To the public, he's quiet and respectful and knows exactly what to say and when to say it.

So to hear that he wears his love for you in his face, publicly, in the open, for the world to see, well, it makes your heart flutter warmly in your chest.

Quinn rejoins the two of you, leaning casually against your suitcase. You take that as your cue to leave and turn to hug Mat for real.

"Thanks for saying that, Mat. It means a lot." You whisper to him.

Mat chuckles, patting you on the back, "Of course, it was good to meet you, Y/n. I'm gonna let you go now because Quinn looks like he might try to kill me, but send me lots of photos of the two of you this summer, ok?"

It's an odd request, mainly because you just met, but you like him, and you know you're going to become good friends, so you smile and promise you'll send him lots of photos.

"Thanks for driving us to the airport, Barzy," Quinn smiles, dabbing him up one last time before the two of you head into the airport.

Quinn offers his hand for you, leading the two of you through the airport. You take it gratefully, happy not to have to use your brain. Soon enough, you're seated side by side on the plane, ready to take off. Quinn hands you water while you pop your drugs, ready to pass out. Flying has never been a favourite activity of yours, so you usually take a couple of nighttime advils and knock out for the duration of the flight.

It's like magic, really; You go to sleep in one place and wake up in another. You pillow your head on Quinn's shoulder, and before you know it, you are out cold.

Approximately six hours later, Quinn is shaking you awake ever so gently, "We're here, babe, planes landed," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your head.

You blink the sleep from your eyes, your brain feeling a little groggy. "Times' it?" You mumble, flopping your head back onto Quinn's shoulder.

"4:27 pm,"

You hum in acknowledgement, rubbing your eyes with a sigh. The flight attendants announced that it was time to start deboarding. Quinn nudges you up while he grabs both of your backpacks from the overhead compartment. He gives you yours and grabs your hand, leading you off the plane to collect your baggage.

As the two of you wait by the baggage carousel, you lean against the sturdiness of Quinn's body, still groggy from the meds. Quinn rubs his hands up and down your arms in soothing motions. His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket, and he pulls it out with a huff. His eyes light up instantly when he sees that it's Jack and Luke in their group chat.

“Jack and Luke are here,” he whispers with a smile. Suddenly, you are wide awake; you haven't seen either of them since December, and holy fuck, you miss them. “I told them to park and come in,”

“They still don't know I'm here, right?” you question excitedly. Quinn nods, his eyes sparkling with amusement at how excited you are. “You face that way, and tell me when they’re coming,” you say, stepping away from Quinn so you aren't standing suspiciously close to him. Quinn chuckles at your request and does it anyway, facing the entrance to the airport so he can see when his brothers enter. You are practically vibrating with excitement as you wait for them to arrive.

You and Quinn can hear them before you see them, “-well, he probably told us to come in because he has a suitcase or something,” Jack says, exasperated.

“But why does he have a suitcase? He never brings a suitcase?” Luke asks confused

They round the corner as Jack sighs. He points to Quinn and slaps Luke upside the head, “Go ask him yourself,”

You are covering your mouth with a hand to keep your laughter quiet, and Quinn is peaking at you out of the corner of his eye with a very amused look.

“What’r you smiling about Quinner?” Luke asks, looping his arm around his brother. Quinn pats his back as Jack joins the hug, throwing himself at Quinn’s free side. Quinn loops his free arm around him with a grunt. “Just happy to see you dumbasses,”

“So why’d you have luggage?” Luke asks, brows raised.

You choose that moment to face them, “It’s mine, actually,” you grin.

Both of their jaws drop to the floor, and they scramble to untangle themselves from Quinn and throw themselves at you instead. Jack gets to you first, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. Luke hugs you around your back. It's awkward because of your backpack, but he is too impatient to wait for Jack to let go, “Y/n, are you really here?” Jack says quietly.

“No, she’s a figment of your imagination,” Luke says with an eye roll, squeezing you just a little tighter “Yes, she’s here, dumbass,”

Quinn chuckles at the interaction, grabbing your suitcase off the conveyor belt as it passes. He leans on it, watching as his brothers practically squeeze the life out of you.

“No one asked you,” Jack huffs. You smile against Jack's neck and tap his arm for him to let go of you. Jack whirls on Quinn, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “How come you didn't tell us she was coming?”

“It was a surprise.” he shrugs with a smirk.

Luke loops an arm around your shoulder, and you wrap one around his waist. You have known the kid since he was a fourteen-year-old who barely came up to your shoulder. At this point, he is basically your little brother. Hopefully, one day, he will be.

“Does this mean you finally pulled your head out of your ass and confessed that you’ve been head over heels for her since you’ve met?” Jack asks bluntly, he pulls on the strap of your backpack to take it from you, and you let him gladly..

Luke cackles, and you laugh behind your hand while Quinn goes red in the face. “Technically, I’m the one who confessed.” you grin, walking towards the door.

“So tell us the story,” Jack nudges with a grin.

“Oh god, can we not?” Quinn groans, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Quinn, please tell me you did not embarrass the family name,” Luke says all too seriously.

“Shut up, Luke. At least I have a girlfriend.”

“So he did embarrass the family name then,” Jack says teasingly.

You just smile, and Jack breaks out into a cackle. Quinn grumbles unintelligibly as he places your suitcase into the trunk. He holds his hand out for the keys, and Luke pouts but hands them over without argument as the older sibling, Quinn, is quite literally incapable of allowing his younger siblings to drive while he is in the car. Quinn opens the passenger door for you, and you slide in with a smile, kissing him on the cheek.

“UGH, THAT WAS SO GROSS,” Luke yells dramatically, covering his eyes. “Keep your grimy lips off her, you heathen!”

“She literally kissed me, you dumbass,” Quinn says, rolling his eyes as he adjusts the seat to his comfort, he laces your fingers together, and you keep your intertwined hands perched in your lap. The drive to the lake house is filled with friendly chatter. Jack and Luke ask about your work, how the kids are, and when they can come to visit next year. You ask them about their last season, how their summer is going, if they are excited for the next season, and everything else that comes to mind.

It’s almost sad that the drive is over as the car pulls up to Lake House. Until you remember you’re about to see Ellen and Jim for the first time in a while. The excitement returns tenfold, and you don't even care about surprising them. As the car rolls to a stoop and you burst out before Quinn has had the chance to put it in park, you can’t remember why you were nervous about coming to Michigan.

“Hi Quinn, we’re in the kitchen!” Ellen's voice calls as she hears the front door open. Following the sound of Ellen's voice you find the kitchen easily.

“Hi El, Hi Jim,” you say with a sheepish smile. They look up, startled by a voice that is most definitely not Quinn.

Jim comes over with a smile, pulling you into a side hug. “Hey Kiddo, long time, its good to see you.”

“Oh my goodness! Y/n!” Ellen drops what she is doing and practically runs to hug you, “Welcome to Michigan, Honey! How come no one told us you were coming? Where are the boys?”

As if on cue, the boys appear in a wave of chaos, Luke dragging your suitcase, Quinn and Jack carrying the backpacks. “Hey, mom, hey, dad,” Quinn says, dropping his bag and hugging them respectively.

Ellen nudges him in the stomach with an elbow, and he doubles over dramatically. “How come you didn't tell us you were bringing Y/n?” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her son.

“She’s finally his girlfriend!” Luke yells as he drags your bags upstairs to Quinn's room.

Ellen's head whips between you two, “surprise,” Quinn says sheepishly, making jazz hands at his mom. Jim snorts and resumes setting the table. Ellen’s face settles into a soft, knowing smile. And she pulls you in for another hug along with Quinn.

“I thought he was never gonna confess at this rate.” Ellen teases.

“Well, actually,” you start with a grin, and Quinn is already groaning, “I was the one who confessed,”

“Well, we would love to hear the whole story at dinner, Quinn. Why don’t you give her a quick mini-tour and then freshen up? Dinner will be ready in less than ten.”

“Sure, Mom,” he drops a kiss to her hair and grabs you by the hand, leading you out of the kitchen, back into the living room and up the stairs where Luke had disappeared with your luggage, pointing out things along as you go. He promises a more in-depth tour after dinner as he drags you to his bedroom so the two of you can freshen up.

Jack and Luke had brought all of your luggage up, thank god. You grab your toothbrush out of your bag, and Quinn points you in the direction of the bathroom. “Do you want something to change into?” he asks as he shuffles through his closet.

“I wouldn't be opposed to a t-shirt,” you answer, undoing your hair and rubbing your fingers into your scalp to release the tension from having your hair up since this morning. You brush your teeth quickly and strip off your hoodie, tossing it on top of your suitcase, as Quinn hands you a t-shirt. As you pull it over your head, the comforting smell of Quinn engulfs you, and you sigh happily.

Suddenly, Quinn is in front of you, wrapping his arms around you loosely, and you practically fall into him. “How are you feeling?” he asks gently, his hands finding your bare skin under your shirt.

“So happy I came with you, Q,” you smile against his chest.

“Me too, baby, me too,” he sighs.

Ellen's voice echos up the stairs, saying that dinner is ready, and Quinn places a kiss on your cheek before loosely tangling your fingers together and leading you back down the stairs. Quinn sits on your left, your thing comfortable resting on top of his. Luke is on your right, and Jim, Ellen and Jack are across from you.

“So tell us the story of how you finally got together,” Ellen prompts, handing you the potatoes.

“Oh god, must we?” Quinn groans,

“Quinn did something embarrassing apparently,” Jack grins, piling his plate high with food.

Their parents don't comment, but the sly smiles that adorn their faces tell you they expected nothing less from their son. “Please spare no expense. We've only waited half a decade for this,” Luke says seriously.

“It was nothing special, really,” you smile, “we were just having dinner, and then it slipped out.” you shrug.

Jack pokes you with his foot under the table, and you glare at him playfully. “Come on, you are holding out on us. What happened after that?”

“Nothing,” you smile.

“Nothing?” Luke questions, and you know he’s caught on as you nod in confirmation.

“As in…” Ellen eyes Quinn with an intensity that only a mother can manage, “Quinn did nothing,”

Quinn hides his face, absolutely mortified, “he didn't do anything, didn't say anything, he just kind of stood there with a blank stare,” you say, smiling fondly as you recall how the night went. It was funny looking back on it now, but at that time, it was the most horrifying moment of your life.

“Quinn, seriously!” Luke scolds, “The girl you love confesses her undying feelings, and you do nothing! That's so embarrassing. We’re renouncing you as a Hughes.”

“Pretty sure I'm the only one who has that power, kiddo,” Jim chimes in with a teasing smile.

“So what happened after that?” Jack encourages with a wave of his hand.

“Well, naturally, after you confess your feelings for your best friend and he just kind of stands there frozen like a baby deer in headlights, you feel pretty mortified,” you shrug, “so naturally, I ran away.”

“Oh my god! You didn't!” Luke gasps dramatically.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “I did,” you nudge Quinn gently so he can continue the story.

“Forgot her phone, keys, wallet, everything,” Quinn says, shaking his head, “I was freaking out, so I kinda just ran out of the apartment after her. I’m sprinting down the streets of downtown Vancouver after dark, and it starts raining. Eventually, like, ten minutes later, I found her crying on a park bench, soaked to the bone and shivering like there was no tomorrow.”

“And just as I was about to take off again, he grabbed me by the wrist and told me he loves me too,” you say, smiling softly.

“Dude, that's straight out of The Notebook,” Jack laughs,

“Well, that will make a fun wedding story.” Ellen smiles,

“That's what Quinn said,” You say, grinning.

“Good job, Quinner. I honestly expected much more embarrassment on your part.” Luke says much too happily.

“Gee, thanks for having so much faith in me, Moose.” Quinn rolls his eyes.

“I’m sure the real version is much less PG,” Jack mutters with a smirk, earning himself a jab from his mother. Your cheeks warm, and your gaze drops to your plate while the tips of Quinn’s ears go pink.

Jack’s smirk grows wider at your reactions, and he's cackling as he takes his next bite of food.

“After that, I moved into his place, and that's basically it, and now we're here.”

“And we're glad to have you,” Ellen smiles.

The remainder of dinner passes quickly, the conversation flowing between the five of you easily. You help clean the kitchen. “Wanna do a sunset boat ride?” Quinn asks as he dries his hands on the dish towel, “I'm itching to get on the water.”

“I'm down,” Luke and Jack say simultaneously, while Jim and Ellen nod in agreement.

“Everyone get a hoodie, you know how cold it gets on the boat as soon as the sun starts to set,” Ellen instructs while she heads up the stairs to grab hoodies for her and Jim.

“I’ll go get two for us,” Quinn murmurs, disappearing up the stairs behind his mom.

He comes back down, not a minute later, with two hoodies in hand. He hands you the blue Canucks hockey one and takes the grey one for himself.

“Oh, by the way, Jack,” Quinn starts as you all make your way to the dock, “you've been demoted as first mate and secondary driver,”

“What?” Jack practically screeches, “What did I do to deserve this?” he whines.

Quinn simply whips your boat license out of his pocket and shows it to Jack with a shit-eating grin.

Jack's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “Don’t worry, Jack,” you laugh, “I would never usurp your position like that.” you pat him on the head reassuringly, and he can't help but smile at you.

Quinn hops over the side of the boat, and ever the gentleman offers you a hand. You take it with a smile and go to choose a seat, but before you can do so, Quinn is pulling you onto his lap in the driver's seat. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You are, after all, in front of his family. No one comments. They all simply smile knowingly as Quinn wraps one arm around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder.

With the comforting strength of Quinn’s body beneath you, the sunset on the lake and the soft chatter of the Hughes melding with the wind rushing in your ears, you decide that this will, in fact, be the best summer of your life.

Ya'll I am so so sorry this took so long. It was supposed to be out Friday, then Saturday, then Sunday, then Monday morning. And here we are. Monday night. Finally.

Some crazy shit happened 😭

Anyways, last final is on Thursday and then I have all the free time in the world to write!

Hope yall are having a wonderful day/night/evening/time etc.

As always, comments are much appreciated.

#quinn hughes #qh43 #hughes brothers #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes blurb #nhl imagines #nhl blurb #loving you is as easy as abc 123

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arieslost · 3 months

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hi love! hope you’re having a great day. could you write something where the reader is oscar sisters best friend? thanks for reading my message!

anon YES! i loved writing this.

best friend’s brother | op81

your best friend never told you that her older brother was off limits, but she never said he wasn’t, either.

that still didn’t stop you from catching feelings for him, and you’d rather die than go up to her and say, “hey, i’m in love with oscar, is it okay if we date?” mostly because now you know oscar wants you too, and to be honest, it’s kind of fun keeping it a secret.

you saw him about as much as his family did— most of the time he was away for work, but the next race was his home one, and he arrived a week early. you, of course, being his sister’s best friend, practically lived at the piastri house half the time, and ended up being there for his homecoming. the side hug he’d given you was expected, but the wink he sent your way when he started climbing the stairs to his room was not.

you replayed that moment over and over in your head for the rest of the day, until eventually you found yourself struggling to sleep and decided to go down to the kitchen for some water.

silently slipping out of the guest room, you were careful to tread lightly down the stairwell, avoiding all the creaky spots with practiced ease. you didn’t want to wake anyone up, most of all the object of all the thoughts that were keeping you awake.

though, all your effort was for naught when you saw that the overhead sink light was on in the kitchen, and none other than oscar himself was quietly getting ice out of the freezer. his hair looked unbelievably soft and slightly messy, like he was running his hands through it. he was wearing an older looking pair of gray joggers, and worst of all, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but one look was all it took to notice that he had most definitely filled out since you last saw him.

your mind was screaming at you to abort mission, abort mission, because you couldn’t be alone with him when he’s half naked like this, but when you shifted to make your retreat, you stepped on the wrong floorboard. it groaned obnoxiously loudly, and your eyes met oscar’s.

“can’t sleep?”

you shook your head. “uh-uh. figured i’d get a drink and see if that helps.”

“ah, we had the same idea then.” he smiled softly. “sit down, i’ll get it for you.”

“thanks, oz.” the childhood nickname slipped easily from your lips as you crossed the kitchen and lifted yourself up onto the counter nearest to him. “having a good season so far?”

“yeah, pretty good. good progression with the car, almost got a podium last race.”

“i know,” you said, looking down at your lap when he raised his eyebrows at you. “i watched.”

he hummed, handing you a glass and holding his own up. “cheers.”

you clinked your glass against his and took a sip before putting it to the side. “no teasing remarks?”

“nah, i think it’s cute.” he grinned, taking another drink and setting his own glass down. “my number one fangirl.”

“and there it is,” you rolled your eyes, though his quiet laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help joining in. “i’m your sister’s best friend, obviously i’m gonna watch.”

“and it has nothing to do with me?” he asked with a faux pout, flattening a palm right next to you on the counter so he could lean a bit closer.

“do you want it to?” you rested your hand inches away from his and closed the gap between the two of you a little.

“i think it already does.” his other hand slid between your thighs and forced them apart so he could move into the new space and effectively cage you to where you sat on the counter. “y’know, i almost kissed you in front of everyone earlier.”

“why didn’t you?” you whispered, eyes fluttering when his nose brushed yours.

“wanted it to happen when we were alone.” you could practically feel his lips against your own when he spoke, but you also really wanted him to make the first move.

running on the pure adrenaline stemming from your close proximity to the man you want more than anything in the world, you ran your palms over the back of his hands, up his forearms, past his biceps, and settled them on his bare shoulders. “oz…”

“yeah,” he replied, like he knew everything you were trying to say, before he finally closed the distance between you.

immediately, you knew you were addicted to kissing him. the way his mouth moved against yours, the way he wrapped your legs around his hips and held your knees to keep them there, the way he sighed when your fingers slid into his hair. you no longer wanted anything more than you wanted to keep kissing him even after all the breath left your lungs.

he took his time kissing you, keeping everything slow, soft, and gentle. there was no tongue, no teeth, no desperation. if either of you felt anything, it was relief.

finally.

it’s the first thing you said when you broke apart, causing him to smile before pulling you right back in. he kissed you again, and again, until your lips were swollen and you heard someone move around upstairs, breaking you out of your lovestruck trance.

“i’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered as you slid off the counter, reaching down and tangling your fingers with his and giving your hand a squeeze.

a squeeze that promises subtle glances across the table at breakfast, fleeting touches in the stairwell, and many more late night kisses.

word count: 957

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: i got very creative with the title (not). i can’t believe i’ve never thought to write this before!!! omg this was so delicious.

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#aries answers #anon <3 #request #blurb #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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imagionationstation · 4 months

Text

I find it intriguing how many people don’t realize that Leon was actually a martyr long before the movie.

Fanfiction/fans will claim it’s some new character flaw that appeared because of everything going on in the OOC Leo’s life right then but it’s not. It’s normal.

Season one: Minotaur Maze

“WAIT!” “I’m the one who cheated. I created the portal to save my brothers. Punish me.”

“Yes! Punish him!”

Season two: Flushed, But Never Forgotten

“Sorry, dad! It was me who made everyone keep the secret from you!” “Flush me, and let my family go.”

(In fact, he does it so commonly that Donnie, who the whole fandom concurs is one half to his whole, actually subconsciously expects it from him when things get rough. If only as a strategic tactic.)

“He’s too fast. Leo, sacrifice yourself to buy us time.”

I don’t think anyone in his family is really confused or shocked that he does it in the movie. This is simply the first time that his sacrifice didn’t include a back-up plan or last-minute intervention. He was going to lock himself up in a dimensional prison.

If Mikey hadn’t tapped his portal power, this really would have been something that he’d never be able walk away from. And he was so willing to do so because this mindset was something they’d allowed to perpetuate for years.

I believe that, beyond anything else, would be what sticks with them most when all is said and done.

Seriously.

The movie wasn’t about his ‘unhealthy new mindset’.

The movie was about the weight of responsibility and what it took for Leo to carry it. What would have happened in a future where he doesn’t until it’s too late.

It’s about what lengths he will go to in order to protect his family.

And the lengths that they would go to in order to keep him.

I think everyone did their fair share of potentially deadly/dangerous sacrifices to save the people they love in that movie.

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changetyre · 9 months

Text

THIS IS YOUR FAULT! || LN4 Ⓢ Ⓦ *Drabble*

SUMMARY: You thought the hardest part of your unplanned pregnancy would be the lack of sleep maybe the nausea but you would've never thought the ridiculous increase in your libido would be what was proving the most challenging. (Lando Norris x Pregnant!Reader)

WARNINGS: ***Smut 18+***

A/N: This drabble is quite short but I am willing to write other parts of this couple if requested ;)

_______________________________

"This is all your stupid stupid fault." You whined as you spoke to your boyfriend on the phone after ranting to him for 10 minutes straight.

You heard him giggle on the other side which only made you angrier. "I'm almost home darling."

He reminded you of the fact he had literally only gone to the store down the street because you were craving some sour candies after Lando had eaten you out for the second time today and it was only 12pm.

"You're a goddamn professional driver for fucks sake it should only take you half a second to speed down the street in your stupid orange car and get back." You continued whining.

You felt like your body was literally screaming for your boyfriend to put his hands on you and relieve you from this need to feel pleasure...again.

"Baby I didn't take the car just to go to the store that is 5 minutes away walking." He laughed again.

"I hate you." you almost cried.

This is what the first months of pregnancy were looking for you, You thought that after being knocked up by your boyfriend by accident during your 2-year anniversary would be enough sex for a while but your body thought otherwise.

It was honestly ridiculous the frequency with which you needed to relieve yourself but you were incredibly thankful for the fact that you got pregnant on the penultimate race of the season and this horny symptom had only shown up after the season ended so you had your boyfriend home most of the time and for a few months.

At first, Lando was concerned with how needy you were even thinking something was wrong but after a visit to your OBGYN where she found his concern funny, she reassured you both that this would be normal and the antidote was pretty self-explanatory.

After this Lando quite enjoyed being so needed and being able to inject you with the medicine needed so often and initially for you it was fun too until it just started getting frustrating.

Yes, Lando had the exact skill set required to pleasure you exactly the way you needed repeatedly and bring you satisfaction rather quickly but the frustrating part was the fact that the satisfaction only lasted an hour or 2 sometimes even less, and sometimes Lando wasn't home to help which had you crying at times because relieving yourself was never nearly enough.

Lando had become such an expert at landing a helping hand that sometimes he would even be in meetings while secretly fingering you who would lay in front of him with your legs spread wide open. Sometimes he would even be eating you out while on a phone call shushing you when he would unmute his phone to keep talking.

"I love you too darling." You would've started crying if Lando hadn't come right through the door after this.

"FINALLY!" You called dramatically. "Eat!" You yelled pointing at your bare pussy where you had laid on the couch.

"With pleasure." Lando laughed setting the bags down.

"WAIT!" You yelled before he could walk forward. "I want my sour gummies." You extended your hand.

Lando could only laugh again at your antics reaching for them in the grocery bag and tossing them to you before finally kneeling down in front of the couch.

"Anything else M'lady." he joked.

"No, now eat." You pointed again in between your legs as you both began eating, you your gummies and Lando you.

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1drabble #f1smut #f1 drivers #f1 smut #lando norris #lando norris x reader #norris #changetyre #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1fic #smut

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number1mingyustan · 10 months

Text

- Cuffing Season-

His Needs

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, size kink, roleplay (ish?? not really), dom!gyu, mentions of porn, penetrative sex, explicit smut, mutliple orgasms, forced orgasms, multiple positions, spanking, squirting, grinding, she dresses up for him, this is flithy

Summary: He just has to get his way

Word Count: 2.3k

_______________________________________________

“There’s no way in hell I’m putting that on,” you roll your eyes.

“Baby please,” He looks at you with soft eyes.

“Mingyu this is ridiculous.” You scoff.

“I proved I would do anything for you the last time we fucked, I feel like it’s only fair you return the message.” He raises an eyebrow.

“You mean when you cried and called me ‘Mommy?’” You smirk.

“I did not call you that! And you said you wouldn’t bring that up again,” he groans.

“Oh baby…” You coo. “I’m never letting you forget that.”

“Can you just… put it on for me, please? I know you’ll look sexy,” he pleads.

“You’re so perverted Mingyu… I don’t know why you bought this in the first place thinking I’ll wear it.”

“Because I know you, and you’ll put it on for me because you love me and I’m horny. Baby please” He whines.

“This has got to be misogynistic in some way. I’m sure the feminists wouldn’t approve of this.”

“Baby… I just saw something like it online and I thought you would look good in it. Don’t scold me for wanting to be a little adventurous.”

“Have you been watching porn or something? I just don’t understand what prompted this” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs. “It’s been on my mind for a while.”

“So you’ve been watching porn.”

“Okay yes, maybe I’ve been watching porn,” He glares at you.

You look down at the outfit he’s displayed for you on the bed. There’s really no point in putting on, you know it’ll only be a matter of time before he’s ripping off what little fabric there is to begin with.

It’s a sexy maid costume he ordered online. He even paid extra for the quick shipping to get it here quicker.

“So what? We don’t have sex for like… 5 days and you start getting off on other women,” you fake disapproval.

He groans. “You know I only watch faceless porn… and I think about you the whole time. Don’t do that.”

“I’m only messing with you Gyu,” you grin and run your finger along the fabric.

“C’mon baby… I’m already half hard. I just wanna see you in it.”

You glance at him, taking note of the semi he’s sprouting in his sweatpants. “Mingyu you really are like a teenage boy,” you chuckle and pick up the costume and make your way toward the bathroom. You’ve teased him long enough.

His eyes light up with excitement and anticipation.

You close the bathroom door behind you and change out of your clothes and into the costume. “Gyu… if I come home and see some kind of sexy schoolgirl outfit, I’m gonna take half the company’s earnings and leave you.”

“I’m not that bad!” He calls from the bedroom. “You know… I think like the absolute most I would wanna see you in is like a… bunny girl senpai outfit. Like that’s all—holy shit–“

He cuts himself off when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t understand why you were being such a hater baby. It’s doing wonders for your tits right now.”

You smirk at him. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Come here.”

He’s quick to pull you onto his lap. He can’t stop himself from staring, you’re just too sexy. Much like his eyes, his hands are quick to wander your body.

You’re so tiny on his lap. Sitting with your legs parted between his.

After indulging himself in a few inappropriate touches, his hands move their way up your thighs and under your skirt. His breath stops in his throat when he realizes you took off your panties.

“No panties? Baby you’re really trying to kill me aren’t you?” He breathes out.

“Just figured I’d make it easy for you,” You smirk, lifting up your skirt more for him to see.

He tilts his head back with a groan. You’re so hot, he really might lose it. His hand slips between where your bodies meet and he palms himself slowly through his sweats with a soft moan.

It’s so lewd.

He’s literally touching himself with you seated on his lap and dressed in next to nothing. There’s already a small stain on his sweats leaking through.

“You really are just like a teenager Gyu. Nearly cumming before we’ve ever gotten started,” You tease.

“Don’t be a bitch Y/n,” He bites back. “I’ll fuck you until you wanna clean for me like a real maid.”

Ugh. As much as you loved dominating Mingyu, you’ll always love his dominant side more. You can’t help it, he’s so big and strong and he can’t stand not being in control. You’ll never be caught complaining about it.

His large hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you him for a rough kiss with no hesitation. It’s sloppy and needy, nothing out to the ordinary with him.

He pulls away, panting softly and licking his lips before reattaching his lips to your neck. He sucks on your skin, leaving dark hickies along your neck and the top of your breasts.

You start growing needy, grinding your bare bottom against the thing fabric of his sweatpants. He’s fully hard now, cock poking perfectly against your clit as you grind yourself down on him.

“Shit baby… you’re worse than me,” he chuckles lightly as he looks down at the large wet patch you’ve left on his sweatpants.

“Shut up.”

A harsh smack lands on your bare ass, causing you to hiss and arch your back, pushing your hips down onto him harder.

He’s so strong.

“You know better than to speak to me like that,” He clenched his jaw.

“ ‘M sorry..” You mumble.

“No you’re not.” He lifts you off his lap and flips you over with ease. He presses your back down, leaving your ass in the air for him. “But it’s okay… I’m gonna make you sorry.”

He pulls his cock out of his sweatpants and rubs it along your folds teasingly.

It’s torture.

You somehow ended up needier than him in a matter of minutes. You’re lying there dripping and unable to see what he’s doing to you. Your walls are fluttering in anticipation.

He can see it all. The way you’re desperately clenching around nothing while you wait for him to fill you up.

He wants to fuck you, but you caught another attitude with him.

You and your damn mouth.

You’ve always had a bit of an attitude problem. Mingyu thinks it’s kind sexy until you catch one with him in the bedroom. It’s one thing to see you catch some sass when you’re talking to someone else. But with him? He’d rather put your mouth to better use.

He pushes the tip of his cock in, giving you a false sense of satisfaction before withdrawing completely with a smirk plastered across his face.

He can’t see how annoyed you are, but he can hear the frustrated groan you let out. “Gyu…”

“Yes my love?” He grins.

“Don’t do this to me. I said I was sorry.”

“But you didn’t mean it.”

“I did!”

He does it again, putting in just the tip before pulling out of you completely. You whine.

He does it a third time, but you’re quicker. Before he can pull out, you slam your ass back, thrusting his length all the way into you.

“Fuck’s sake,” He groans. “You’re horrible Y/n.”

You’re too caught up in how good the stretch of his cock feels to even respond. He takes over, slamming his hips against your ass and thrusting into you harshly.

He holds your hips steady with his big hands, ramming his cock deep inside of you quickly. Your ass recoils with every thrust and he’s left mesmerized.

It’s not long before you feel yourself getting close. He pounds into you so good. His hand snakes between your thighs and his finger circles your clit. He needed to feel you cum around him.

He loves it so much. The way you tighten around him and how you always manage to get wetter.

His finger moves quicker, his thirsts never flattering in pace.

“Oh fuck Mingyu I’m so close,” You warn him.

He doesn’t stop when you cum. He fucks you through your orgasm thoroughly. You’re moaning and crying out his name but he doesn’t stop.

He gives you no time to recover from your state of bliss before he’s leaning over and pushing your head down deeper into the bed. Your back arches more and he can now pound you deeper.

Your hands grip the bedsheets tightly as he rams his cock deep inside of you.

“You feel so good” He moans.

It only takes a few moments before he’s driving you into another orgasm. This one is more intense than the first and your whole body goes numb for a second.

You’re sensitive and overstimulated. You figure this is karma for the way you put it on him last time.

“Gyu… I can’t take it” You whine into the bedsheets. Your voice is muffled, but he knows exactly what you said.

You let yourself believe he’s listening to you when he pulls out of you. For a moment, you’re relieved.

But then he flips you onto your back and fills you up again. “You can baby. Gosh you look so sexy right now… all dressed up for me and crying on my cock.”

You whine out in response.

He holds your legs wide open for him as he fucks himself into you. You’re already overstimulated and tears are starting you prickle the corners of your eyes.

It’s so intense but it feels so good. He fucks you roughly, treating you like a toy intended for his own pleasure.

“Ah-hah Gyu” You moan. “I really can’t…”

“You can baby” He grins as he continues thrusting his cock into you. “Give me one more darling.”

“Mmph- I can’t Gyu. I really can’t” You pant.

“There’s no such thing,” he smirks.

He takes advantage of the fact that you’re so sensitive. He begins thrusting into you at an inhuman pace, pinning your down so your legs stay wide open for him.

It’s so fucking good. His cock rams deep inside of you and his finger circles your clit once more. His pace makes you ache, the tip of his cock brushing deep inside of you, repeatedly hitting the one spot that makes you go mad.

It’s all too much, it happening too fast.

You don’t have time to fully process before he’s forcing another orgasm out of you. It’s so unfair but it’s so fucking good,

You cum so hard you don’t even realize you’re squirting until he pulls his cock out and watches the way you soak the sheets.

You cry out, eyes squeezed shut and the pleasure suffocates you. You feel dizzy and it takes longer for you to fully come down.

His cock is already inside of you again as your body spasms at the feeling of being full again. He pins you down to keep you from squirming.

“You’re making such a mess baby… some maid you are” He teases.

You’re breathing heavily and still trying to recover from the intensity. "Gyu.. I really can't anymore."

"Baby I didn't even get to cum yet," he pouts. "That wouldn't be fair now would it... you had what, three?" He sucks his teeth and continues thrusting into you slowly. "How selfish."

He's really showing no mercy.

Your pussy is already spent. You're still dripping, making it easier for him to slip in and out of you with low effort. His cock throbs and swells inside of you. He's getting close, thankfully.

"You'll let me cum won't you?" He asks. "You wanna let me really ruin this pussy don't you baby? Dressed up for me so pretty, making a mess everywhere. Don't pretend like you don't love it."

You whine.

"You were so confident earlier... that mouth of yours. Not much to say now huh?" he smirks, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

Mingyu himself is surprised he's held out this long. When you were on his lap he was nearly about to cum in his pants untouched. Seeing you like this, dressed up for him with your legs wide open after three orgasms, the sight alone could make him cum. You are just that hot... you have that effect over him.

But you pull another reaction out of him too. One that makes him never want to stop. He really can't help it. You make him want to keep going, he craves more constantly. He can never get enough of you no matter how much to satisfy him.

Your throat is starting to get sore from how much noise you've been making. You rasp out his name and it finally sends him over the edge. He tries to pull out, but you squeeze down on his cock purely out of reaction.

"Fuck," he groans.

Luckily he's stronger than you, so he manages to spill the rest of his load on your inner thighs.

It's a mess.

There's cum dripping out of you and down your thighs, the sheets are still soaked alongside his torso and the lower half of your outfit. Mingyu looks down with satisfaction written on his face.

"I put you in a maid outfit and you end up making an even bigger mess," he grins.

You're still exhausted, hardly able to respond to him. He lifts you up, helping you undress and running a bath to properly clean you up.

He takes the bedsheets and puts them into the washing machine, replacing them with fresh ones before joining you in the bathroom to clean up his mess. _______________________________________________

#seventeen smut #seventeen #mingyu smut #seventeen drabbles #seventeen mingyu #mingyu #svt mingyu #mingyu drabbles #mingyu svt #kim mingyu #kim mingyu smut #kpop #cuffing season

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identifying-cars-in-posts · 7 months

Text

A long overdue update:

Hi everyone. Long time no see. I literally have not opened Tumblr since the last time I posted here. Hope everyone is doing ok. Figured I owed y’all an apology and explanation for kinda just vanishing.

First, I did in fact get a car! It’s a 2015 Nissan Versa Note. I don’t particularly like it but a friend gave me a deal on it that I couldn’t turn down. Once my life stabilizes I’m probably going to sell it and buy an old truck, maybe a 70s Ford. I’d love a little sports car or a land yacht but rear wheel drive is a bit impractical for brutal New England winters, and the Jeep really put me in Old American Truck Mode. But yes I have a car now!

Second, unfortunately this is an official notice of hiatus. When I last posted saying I was taking some time off it was because I had just had an incredibly stressful move and did not have the energy to keep this blog up. I figured I’d take some time to get settled in, relax, and then pick this back up after a week or two, but the last month has been really rough - the short version is one of the people I was living with turned out to be a pretty horrendous human being who managed to get everybody living in the house essentially kicked out via sheer drama. Within a month and a half. It’s a long story but tl:dr if you quite literally slander a property manager with heavy unfounded accusations of horrible crimes, they’ll probably bail from the whole situation. And since they’re gone the landlord has to hand ownership of everything over to a company that’s forcing everyone still here to vacate. I’m now fighting to not have to live in aforementioned Nissan Versa through the aforementioned brutal New England winter. On top of that, I’m a retail manager so we’re going into our busiest most stressful season, so that’s been an extra level of exhaustion.

So what does that mean for this blog? Well, as I said, I’m officially going on indefinite hiatus, as are the projects I was working on in relation, including the reference website. I’m really sorry, I’m just way too stressed and dealing with way too much. If I could, I would just hand off administrative power to someone else, but this is a sideblog so I can’t hand off login credentials without also giving access to my main/personal account. It’s my biggest regret of this account, but when I started it I never expected it to blow up the way it did back in September - I had no reason to expect to need it to be its own entirely separate blog. I love what I was doing here and I thought that it might even be a nice distraction from everything going on, but the upkeep required with this blog is just more than I can deal with right now. I hope that things settle down soon and that I can genuinely come back here and enjoy what I was doing, but I just need literally anything to level out in my real life and to not be in 100% survival mode, because at the moment I literally do not have the energy to pour into this.

Anyway. Sorry for the long post, I’m not good at not being overly verbose. I’m really sorry for kind of abandoning this project, and I hope I can get back to it relatively soon, it just might be a while.

In the mean time, I hope those of y’all who I turned onto cars as a potential hobby find some other good outlets! I highly recommend Donut Media’s series “Up to Speed” on YouTube, as well as the channels Regular Car Reviews, Doug DeMuro, Garbage Time, and Aging Wheels. All great YouTube channels that are both informative and very approachable and fun.

Godspeed and much love. Hope to see y’all soon

- Identifying Cars in Posts admin ❤️

#not a car id

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misty-caligula · 1 year

Text

Okay this is gonna be long, but I’ve got a lot of ground to cover so please bear with me. In a real way, this is my series thesis.

I’ve said before, many times now (like a cycle) that for me the most important scene is ep 1 act 1 scene 1. There’s something There that I have been struggling to see clearly, struggling to articulate, and s2e9 really finally gave me the last pieces for it.

I think that Pit Girl is the point of the entire story. But not in the way that I thought going in. I feel like I’m rambling, so I’m going to try to structure my thoughts.

Imagine you’re a new viewer. You haven’t watched yj start to finish 30 times, you’ve never even buzzed before. You turn on the tv and the FIRST thing that happens is you see ... brutality. A half dressed girl chased through the freezing woods, murdered without a chance. They drag her through the snow, string her up, pour her blood on the ground. Hack her into unrecognisable chunks. Sit around in scary outfits and rip at her, with a huge focus on the teeth, as horror music plays. Then, Misty takes off her mask, puts on her glasses, and does the worst possible thing. She smiles. Directly at you.

Again, forget everything you know and go on vibes. You’re seeing the teens pre-crash, and you’re seeing them in the third timeline, fully formed, with horror motifs and covered in fur. You’d be mistaken for thinking that you were seeing start and end. Except that... we know, and you know, that Pit Girl is the middle. These monsters somehow came back from this. How? When they’re so so so far gone?

Hence the show. I know I’m not breaking new ground here, but bear with me. I’m going somewhere.

(Edit: Readmore added because honestly, LONG post)

You’d be forgiven, fresh-faced new viewer, for thinking you were watching some kind of gross-out slasher. But what happens in S1? Restraint. Laura Lee, the first non-crash victim dies at the end of episode eight. Jackie end of ep 10. (For the sake of this thesis we’re going to be almost exclusively focused on the teens.)

And yet there’s this tonal shift, It’s like ... inevitability. Like watching a crack in a window that’s very slowly spreading. Everything is steadily Getting Worse. The weather is slowly getting colder, the days are getting darker, food’s getting scarcer, life is getting harder. But so much of this difficulty is coming from external events and pressure. Yes, cracks start to show in the internal relationship dynamics, of course, but if food was plentiful, if shrooms were less so, if the weather were better, then they could probably work out a very long term stable situation. Sadly for them, things are not stable, and the pressure is building.

Then Jackie dies and the glass gets a really big break.

It’s worth mentioning at this moment that Jackie at any time could’ve come the fuck inside. Safety and warmth and even love were available to her. All it would’ve required was for her not to be the centre of the world. To make actual goddamn concessions and join the team. Which is why she couldn’t possibly make that choice, because she had to be invited, she had to be apologised to, she had to be accommodated. She couldn’t see the rest of the ‘jackets as being people who just like her were in a really shitty situation. She saw them as being external, as being in cahoots against her, as being part of some Thing that she wasn’t in on. She couldn’t let go of the society they’d left, and she preferred to die. Which sure is a choice...

Keep all of that in mind though. We’re taught to blame Shauna for Jackie’s choices. Let’s stop with that. Jackie chose not to assimilate, she looked around the cabin at the team eating the bear and praying to the wilderness and instead of just paying lip service to fit in, like Tai, she decided to put her foot down and make a Thing of it. She decided that being Right was more important than being Included.

Seriously, keep that in mind, we’re coming back to it. Cycles, you know...

Season 2, everyone’s hungry and hey we have this spare Jackie lying around. And we joke like “ha, you gonna eat that?” Only...

No. They WEREN’T going to eat her.

Really think about that for a second. They put her in the meat shed. With the bear. Think about what that does, psychologically. Linguistically. The meat shed is made to store food. The bear has a word: carcass. Day after day after week after month they carve progressively more pathetic chunks from it, subsisting on what little it offers. In the EXACT same room, sitting right there is Jackie. Her body has a different name. Corpse. With many different connotations. At NO point does ANY of them raise the fact that they’ve taken their friend and added her to their meat stockpile.

Because they haven’t. Instead, they’ve added a new sub-room. The meat shed is now also a morgue. And nobody ever once had to say it. They got it. We got it. You got it. And while they starved and their bodies BEGGED for food, Jackie’s corpse lay there, frozen and fresh, and stubbornly refused to become a carcass, because they wouldn’t let it. They knew that there were more important things than meat, even when they were starving.

The bacchanal was a mistake. A literal error. It simply wasn’t planned, wasn’t meant to go down that way. Maybe if they HAD considered that route earlier and had a discussion about it they’d have been prepared, psychologically, maybe if they weren’t so starved. Who knows. But in the middle of the night they were offered a way out, and they took it.

But Shauna took it first.

Even in their state, even faced with an ideal roasted feast infront of them, they waited until Shauna said it was okay. Because Jackie was Shauna’s friend, and they knew that she was still a person. That this was still a corpse first. It was Shauna who was able to give them permission to survive. To turn a friend into a meal. It was not their place to take that step. To shoulder that guilt. So Shauna did it for them.

The next day they’re devastated. The heavy reality sets in, now the hunger is settled. And Jackie’s carcass is far too real, they can’t change her back into a corpse. Nat tries, bless her heart. But Tai’s screaming reaction at having eaten Jackie’s face is only an externalisation of the grief and horror and agony they’re all going through.

And after Jackie they starve again. Hope and heat and light dwindles further. Every single day they all take another step towards death. That’s what starvation is, it’s the same thing as dying, you die a little bit every day until you can’t die anymore.

Kristen falls. Misty doesn’t even consider that she might bring her back as meat. If she had’ve, she might think, maybe she’d be considered like ... heroic. It doesn’t even occur to her. She’s not going to LET those bitches eat her one and only friend, and she goes out of her way to protect her.

Shauna has her horror show birth. And, no matter WHAT the context is, she produces.... meat. In the most awful, brutal way. And while the fandom made so many jokes and stuff, the reality is that yes... at least to an extent there was real nutrients there. And it was never once even brought up as an option, by these desperate, starving girls.

When Coach tries to kill himself, here’s a ready source of willing meat. And Misty uses it as a threat to stop him. But it’s hollow, she’s just putting on fake fangs to try to keep him safe. She’s not actually that vicious thing that she’s pretending to be, just like she’s not actually homophobic.

When Lottie tells Misty to eat her if she dies, Misty fights her on it. Lottie has to insist. Then when she tells the rest of the team, they are so overwhelmed with the selflessness of the gesture that it inspires them to twist it into their first hunt. That’s what it takes. The hunt is an act of self-sacrifice and love.

And so we get to the hunt. The proto-pit-girl, we’ve come full circle and we start to learn all these answers to questions posed in act 1 scene 1. And they’re not the answers that were assumed.

How do they get to the point of eating each other? They sacrifice themselves willingly, for the sake of each other’s survival.

Why do they hunt the way they do? Because Shauna just can’t stand to murder a friend in cold blood, a friend she cares for and has no reason to hate.

Why the spike pit? Because it keeps the blood off their hands. Because it lets them blame It and preserve a tiny fragment of their innocence.

Why the weird symbols? The ritual itself? Because they need SOMETHING to hold onto, to make it all make sense.

Why so brutal? Is it? We THINK it’s brutal. It’s certainly bloody. But Pit Girl dies almost instantly. Her pain is over fast. She doesn’t have a good time going into it, obviously, none of them want to die. But she chose to run, she could’ve taken the knife instead. And the spike trap was efficient. Yes they drag her through the snow and string her up, but it’s mechanical and just part of the process and she’s dead already. Her pain is over fast, it’s not sadistic.

Why do they chop her up into chunks like that? Because nobody wants to eat her face. Because nobody wants to struggle with her humanity, they want her to look just like any other meat. So that they might be having deer or bear or ... friend. They’re eating because they are biological machines that need to eat, that NEED death to survive. They didn’t ask to be made the way they are, and they’re doing their best to cope. Shauna, probably blindly, takes on that responsibility, to transform their friend into unrecognisable meat to change a corpse into a carcass. She takes that pain for them, holds that sin for them, out of love. So they can eat, so they can survive.

What’s with the creepy horror masks? During the ritual they can’t handle being themselves. They create alternate versions of themselves to hold what must be done. The masks aren’t there to scare anyone, because there IS NO AUDIENCE. The masks are there to hide behind. That’s why Misty takes hers off at the end of the scene. The ritual is over and they can go back to being people again.

Why is Misty fucking Quigley in charge? Because she CAN be. Because she’s strong enough. If Lott/Nat/The AQ is the goddess/queen, Misty is the priestess/handmaiden, tasked with actually carrying out her orders. She interprets the queens words when she’s too weak, she provides counsel when she needs it, she tells the team what they need to hear in the moment, she gives out the micromanagement. Misty’s the power behind the throne, because when she says she’ll do something she fucking follows through. No matter the cost. And what the team NEEDS, whether they choose to admit it or not, is a backbone.

So...

They bring home Javi. The music uses a reference that’s never been done before. It uses the spiritual powerballad that was playing when Laura Lee tried to fly away. It builds the expectation of Great Things, of big, potent ...

And then it just stops. As the girls are faced with the reality of what’s laying on the table. The cold, blue corpse of a soft child who never hurt anyone. No matter what they do, no matter how hard they try they just cannot make him a carcass. But they have made the choice already, and if they turn back now it’s not like it’ll bring him back. They’ll just be starving and regretful as he rots.

So Shauna, blind and shaking, does the best she can. And when she brings in the meat, she - of all people - understands EXACTLY what Travis is going through. She knows what he needs. Because she’s been here. With Jackie. So she brings him Javi’s heart. His core. His love. His soul.

(She doesn’t bring him Javi’s head. She cuts that off and puts it aside so nobody has to eat his face... Some things are worth more than pure nutritional survival.)

And Travis, god bless him, does the only thing he can do left to respect Javi. He takes his heart, and he bites it, raw and bloody.

It hurts him to do so. It disgusts him so much, but he manages not to throw up. It disgusts the girls too, but they watch on, horrified. And that’s the POINT. Travis makes sure that before they do this, before they do what they have to... that they all remember this is Javi, this is human, this is a person. And he preserves the horror. For all their sakes. And only then, after he’s given his blessing, after he’s done his human acts, do these starving, ravenous girls allow themselves to reach for their food.

S1E1. Act 1, scene 1. We do not know who Pit Girl is. We do not know the exact circumstances that get us there. But we do know where we started now. What the original meaning is behind each of these little things. And it’s not brutality, not barbarism. It’s love. It’s not lord of the flies, a bunch of monstrous human-shaped creatures giving in to their primal nature and predating on each other. It’s a team of terrified people desperately clutching at their own humanity as hard as they can. Trying SO hard not to let that glass break, to not become the thing that the framing of act 1 scene 1 tried so VERY hard to convince us they were. Context changes everything.

And the proof is in the pudding. After they eat Jackie the shock explodes throughout the cabin. The atmosphere is thick, and horrific. Now with Javi, reduced to simple meat, carefully and lovingly seperated from what made him human, so they can grieve him while they sate their natural needs, the mood post-eating is calm and soft and warm and loving. For once they’re all together, with grateful full stomachs and in a time of peace and plenty. They’ve done the impossible and maintained their humanity and love for each other and their respect for Javi in a nearly impossible situation.

*takes a deep breath*

Which brings us to THIS asshole.

Right from the start, Jackie is only kind of part of the team. She’s the team captain, put up there by Coach Martinez, but not because she’s the best of them but because she can maybe wrangle them into doing better. And they KNOW that she’s not really one of them. They plot around her, and just don’t bring her in on it. They put up with her, more than loving her, she’s just kind of forced upon them. But she does her best, to try to maintain some semblance of order, giving pep talks and the like.

Wait, Jackie? I mean coach. My bad.

Anyway, so Jackie has one friend, Shauna. She SEEMS popular, and everyone talks to her, but Shauna’s the only one who actually likes her. And Shauna’s her connection point to the team. She’s got one foot on each side, and is torn as to where her real loyalties lie.

Sorry I’m talking about Jackie again.... weird.

In S1E9/10 Shauna finally chooses the team, for real. And Jackie tries to pull her back away, but Shauna puts her foot down. No way, she counters, I’m ON the team, you’re the odd one out. Why don’t YOU leave, Jackie? Jackie looks around at the burgeoning cult, she thinks “Look at these evil monstrous bitches, and now Shauna’s one of them TOO?” And instead of finding a compromise, instead of doing introspection, instead of anything like that, Jackie goes and freezes to death because it turns out that sheer rage won’t keep you warm in sub zero temperatures. Because no matter what happens, Jackie’s Right and it’s more important to her to be Right than Included. If she’s not in charge than why is she even THERE?

Hold on, I see my mistake. Let me backtrack.

Right from the start, Coach is only kind of part of the team. He’s trying to hide from his real life, from Paul and the complexities of being genuine in society by taking on the job of coaching the ‘jackets. And they KNOW that he’s not really one of them. He’s just the guy they have to listen to, because society put him there. But he tries his best, giving pep talks and the like.

So Coach has one friend, Natalie. He SEEMS popular, and everyone talks to him, but Nat’s the only one who actually likes him. (Ignore Misty, a schoolgirl comphet crush is not the same thing). And Nat’s his connection point to the team. She’s got one foot on each side, and is torn to where her real loyalties lie. Sometimes she’s on the bench with Coach, complaining about the state of things. Sometimes she’s in the thick of it with them all, and Coach is nowhere to be found.

In S2E9, Nat finally chooses the team, for real. And Coach tries to pull her back, but Nat puts her foot down. No way, she counters, I’m ON the team, I’m worse than them, you’re the odd one out. Go, save yourself, you don’t belong in this place. Coach looks at a table covered in blood and gore, at Nat’s face, at the rest of the team pledging fealty to her. And instead of looking for context, or looking for compromise, or even remotely trying to understand what he’s looking at he thinks

Look at these evil monstrous bitches. They’re eating each other. They’ve all gone mad. They’ve even gotten Nat now. There’s no hope for them, there’s no hope for anyone out here.

And he decides that they’re corrupt. That the way you deal with that is fire. And he’s wrong.

(I have a theory that he’s gone and jumped off the cliff, that he set the fire to clear the corruption, and now like Jackie, unable to live in this situation any longer, he’s decided to die himself. I’d not be surprised to find him in s3e1 that way)

Jackie was a frustrating, difficult person. Because no matter how things went she just COULDN’T let go of the fact that she was trying to fit a mold that just didn’t suit her. She was raised with super high expectations, when she was really just kind of mid. And that’s fine, honestly, most people ARE mid, that’s why it’s mid. But she refused to see that those around her were shedding their social pressures, were adapting to the wilderness. They weren’t having a good time, they weren’t hunting and foraging because they were out there, camping for fun. Nobody wanted to be there. They were just trying not to complain about it, because they were all in the same boat.

Coach is similar. He simply won’t adapt. Refuses to. I mean this is a guy who’s STILL trying to live in the closet when there’s open lesbians making out in public around him. Who thinks of others as inherently monstrous when he himself, as a gay man, should know better. Because that’s what trying to fit your society-assigned role does to you.

It’s no accident that he and Jackie both spend a long time in the woods and neither of them can do something as basic as start a fucking campfire. Javi, a little kid, survived for MONTHS on his own in that cave. Coach couldn’t make it a day alone. Jackie couldn’t get through a night. They both rely so heavily on the team without ever once recognising it. Because SOMEONE was keeping the fires going. They both just ... refused to engage.

And just like Jackie can’t see that they’re not having fun out there in the woods, on the knifes edge of survival, Coach can’t see that they’re not having fun when they are so desperate they feel it’s warranted to sacrifice one of their own. He always thought of them as monsters, and he just sees what he expects to: a bunch of stupid useless teenage girls, finally doing what he always expected they would.

At any point... At ANY point he could’ve come in from the cold. He could’ve just accepted reality as they have. He could’ve taken some meat and accepted the price, as they have, joined them in their GRIEF about it, shared their humanity, and survived. Just as Jackie could’ve come in from the cold, and become part of the whole. But instead, they sit in the cold, consumed by their bitter hate, and decide that no, it’s everyone ELSE who’s wrong.

And who emerges from the burning cabin? A bunch of scared kids. Shauna, the FIRST cannibal, who saves Jackie’s prom dress before anything else. Travis, who grabs Javi’s wolf. Nat who grabs the ammunition - that they NEVER use on each other - because if they lost that they’d get SERIOUSLY desperate. And they protect each other, they make sure everyone makes it out. These supposed monsters who are so far gone they don’t even care about eating each other go out of their way to save each other, not just themselves.

Because Coach is wrong. Just like Jackie was wrong. Just like WE were wrong, in s1e1. Which brings me to my actual point.

This question is asked so many times in S1 it’s almost a mantra. And the ‘jackets’ oath of silence really builds up that it must’ve been something REALLY bad, right? But S2E9 has really made me recognise that fundamentally... Act 1 Scene 1 is entirely what everyone who asks this question is expecting.

Imagine they DID know what really happened out there. With that bloodthirsty fucking look in their eyes...

They’re not looking for an answer. They’re looking for a story. For an exciting spooky nightmare they didn’t take part in, so they can get a shiver and a thrill they didn’t earn.

They’re not looking for a love story. They’re not looking to hear how HARD these scared, tragic, broken people fought to hold onto their morals and their humanity and their sanity even against their own survival. They’re not interested in Shauna blinding herself just to try to stop her hands from shaking. They’re not looking to hear about Travis choking down the blood of his brother just to make sure that he can really FEEL it. So he can share the guilt, and never ever pretend like it’s Just Meat. The look in his eye when he can’t think of any good response to Van’s arguments that he needs to let Javi save him. What they want is...

They don’t want the context. And if the ‘jackets ever did try to tell anybody what actually DID happen out there, all they would see is ... Episode 1, Act 1, Scene 1. A bunch of monsters. Eating each other. Just like Jackie. Just like Coach. Just like we did, on first glance.

I’ve been saying this whole time that Yellowjackets is doing something really special. That it’s letting us see behind the curtain, that while everyone’s asking this big question, “what really happened?”, we’re the ones who get to know. Because it can’t be told. It can’t be spoken. It can only be seen. Experienced. I think that S2 has finally finished the first major arc in the teen timeline, that we now have the context to understand what comes next. And I do believe that it will get messy, it will devolve. Into fighting and screaming and battles. It’s tragic, but it looks like that’s the downward spiral, spiraling. As Travis and Nat deal with the guilt of what they did with Javi for each other. As Shauna and Nat butt heads and people pick sides. As Misty Mistys. As resources get even more desperate now their shelter is gone. As potentially new people (hikers? other cabin people?) get brought into conflict with them (I believe the cabin is a smoke signal, personally).

But don’t ever forget that we got here with love. Expect that the downward spiral will be lubricated with toxic, broken, codependant, self-destructive love as well. Watch them love each other to death... they’ve already begun.

#yellowjackets #spoilers #theories #Long post #no really long post

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l4long-winded · 5 months

Text

o.s. the phone call regarding the onions

summary: richie won't stop calling and despite how busy carmen is, he picks up the phone. he didn't know richie would take so long to tell him about his trip to the farmer's market, let alone how impatient you would be in his lap (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

reflection: i wrote this last night and edited it this afternoon. i find i have a hard time writing dialogue because i always want it to flow with my other descriptions. it's tricky for me, so this was an interesting challenge for myself. indulgent? yes. but intriguing nonetheless. as always, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: cursing, kissing, phone call during sex, riding, religious allusions, more cursing, pussydrunk!carmen (the best kind), longwinded descriptions, slander of the elderly, cynicism, filth, secret girlfriend!reader, humorous dialogue, richie being richie, set before or during season 1 ig, double entendre ending, very slight dirty talk, overuse of the word "cousin" (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 2,101

“Are you even listening to me, Cousin?” Richie’s voice irritates Carmen’s eardrum drastically more than it usually does, and that’s saying something considering how his tone and words always sift right under the flesh of Carmen’s forearms to scrape against his bones. He should really tell Richie to shut the fuck up, to get to the godforsaken point of this overdrawn story about his trip to the grocers, but Carmen can’t find the speech in him to do so. As a defensive and sharp individual, Carmen seldom runs into the issue of not being able to come back with a witty remark of his own speckled in a seasoning of honesty, but his brain’s already having difficulty concentrating on his shallow breathing. If he loses focus on that particular aspect, he would never hear the end of it. Richie’s too much of a pain in the ass to hang up on, in fact, he’s part of the reason Carmen’s in this predicament.

Richie just had to keep on calling over and over and over and over again. Carmen’s phone buzzed and buzzed and buzzed and the motherfucker on the other end would not take the fucking hint. Carmen recalls catching the flustered, frustrated, and deprived expression on your features as you looked at him, disappointment in your blown pupils because you knew you had to climb off his lap in the middle of your shared fun. Carmen assured you that it wouldn’t take long, to remain where you were because he couldn’t bear to depart from your heat for a single second in this state of mind, the state of nothingness possessed by desire. He’s confronted that compelling phenomenon too often with you and it’s absolutely everything for him. Richie’s call, Carmen surmised and explained to you during the fifth ring, would only take three minutes, five at the most.

Carmen forgets how bad at math he is until it smacks him upside the face and attempts to ruin his day. Richie’s been yapping on the line for about… how long has it been? Carmen stares up at the ceiling, phone pressed to his ear, pink lips parting as your tongue and teeth glissade down his neck. He can feel his body’s primal need to roll his eyes far into the back of his head, but he somehow sustains his half lidded gaze so he can raise his phone away from his ear to check the call’s duration.

14:53. 14:54. 14:55.

Seriously? Fifteen minutes of this bullshit? Carmen’s close to tossing his phone across the room so he can fuck you properly against his bedroom door, but he knows Richie. Richie would bolt on over here to tell Carmen his story in person, stomp away on Carmen’s remnants of alone time with you before he’s back to busting his ass in the kitchen. Carmen can’t have that. A fucking crowbar couldn’t pry you off his cock, and he’s sighing out shakily, pushing the mic away from his mouth far off to the side of the couch and into the cushion so he can release the tendril of fucked out noise you’re igniting in his stomach. Its smoke is climbing up and up, swirling around his lungs, collapsing into purrs and grunts of pleasure since he can’t be any louder than that. You haven’t made his mistake easy on him, fluttering your walls around him, arching as you rise and fall, adding in your lips and dutiful tongue into the sum of his impending eruption. He notices the twinkle atop the slim rings of your irises, how in awe and turned on you are from hearing those little noises he can’t will himself to wrangle down.

Do you like that?

He mouths.

Yes,

you nod your head.

For a moment, resolve slips. Carmen’s other hand maneuvers from gripping the throw pillow on his couch to gripping your thigh, sliding slightly down where he sits so he can roll his hips up into you. He revels in the gasp you inhale, your hands steadying yourself by the use of his shoulders. A ghost of a smile forms on his lips catching your pout and he’s about to inform you to behave when his phone speaks from under the cushion, still in Carmen’s other hand as he was trying to metaphorically and literally smother Richie, but the bastard’s gumption defeats Carmen’s efforts. He tightens his top and bottom lip together as he snatches the phone in agitation from under the cushion to lift it back to his ear.

“Carmy? Carmy? I’m fucking talking to you, Carmy,” Richie grits out, the bass in his voice scratching an unpleasant portion of Carmen’s ear. Carmen shuts his eyes, instructing himself soundlessly to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth… the same mouth you kiss, your hands cupping his cheeks, tongue shyly petting his. He should put a stop to it. He’s powerless when you kiss him, it’s why he avoided doing so this entire phone call with Richie. He knew he couldn’t stop you, the hand once at your thigh palming up to your ass, his middle finger slipping under the fabric of your lacy panties that you still had on. It rests there, like it’s part of the ensemble (or lack of), twitching and clutching as the lace hugs him and tethers his digit to you.

“Hey, bozo, are you going to answer me or not?” Richie snarls, and Carmen almost tells him to fuck off, but you’re the one who takes mercy on him. Your mouth slides back down, lapping over a sensitive vein in his neck. Carmen finds himself falling back into the couch, licking his dry lips, a desire in him present to curse his friend out.

“I hear you, Richie, I fucking hear you,” Carmen blurts suddenly. He’s got a breathy rasp to him due to the sex, crimson in the face, yelling almost in the same fashion he does at work. You hide your amused grin under your hair as you tenderly kiss his jaw, picking up the speed of your hips. Before, your movements were gentle and small. But now, you have intention as you fuck yourself on Carmen’s cock, sucking spots on his skin to conceal your moans away. The worst part is that even though Carmen can barely hear them, he can feel the hum of each one vibrating against his flesh. And it feels like he knows you sound. How does someone begin to describe that? The walls of a cathedral must know exactly what he’s experiencing, angelic hums reverberating through their surfaces, etching sound waves into crevices and making them whole. That’s it. He feels whole. Complete. It’s almost as good as when he swallows those moans into his mouth and feels them alive in his throat.

“Yeah? Yeah? Then what the fuck did I say, huh?”

Shit… yeah, what the fuck did he say? Carmen’s horrid at multitasking outside his craft and he’s especially inept at maintaining his control and composure when he’s watching his secret girlfriend impale herself repeatedly on his throbbing length. He closes his eyes again to subtract sight’s distraction, middle finger sweeping back and forth so that your lace can rub his knuckle and jog along his memory. Oddly enough, it helps him collect the thoughts you’re so keen on dissipating with those gorgeous, enticing hips of yours.

“You said… you went to the farmer’s market,” Carmen begins, gulping heavily as you clench. “You went to… uh,” Carmen tilts his phone away from his mouth, biting hard on his index finger to refrain from hissing out. He glares at you, you’re being unfair, and the mischief is written all over your gaze despite the innocent smile you attempt to give him. He’s definitely going to pay this back. He’s not a saint, he holds grudges, and he’s harboring one against you for almost causing him to moan into his phone.

“Carmy,” Richie disrupts Carmen’s plans for vengeance and fortunately, Carmen instantly recalls what they were talking about like an epiphany, no thanks to you.

“You went to pick up the onions!” Carmen rushes, his syllables spilling over one another. He hates how he sounds. It’s different from his regular speaking voice and if they weren’t dealing with shitty cell service, Richie probably would’ve noticed.

“Then, what? I’ve been talking for almost twenty minutes,” oh, Carmen fucking knows, “and that’s all you’ve gotten from that?”

“Richie,” Carmen says as sternly as he can as your tightness sinks to his base. He sucks onto his upper row of teeth, pulsing increasing, lighting up with heat inside of your delectable walls. This is your fault, too. You and your enveloping warmth. You and your pretty face and your pretty cunt and your persistent needs, your pliant open legs as you ride him and make him drunk without a smidgen of alcohol around. He might as well have bathed himself in scotch, the effects most likely easier to handle than the vise you’ve got on his mind, body, and cock. “Did you, or did you not get the fucking onions?”

Richie scoffs, “Ugggghhhhhhh,” into Carmen’s ear. Annoyed by it, Carmen grips his phone tighter as he pushes it away from his head for as long as Richie does it. He shakes his hair out of his eyes as he retracts the phone back to its original position, his stare greedily finding where his cock disappears and reappears with more and more of that wonderful slick that glides him in deeper and deeper. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! The fucking old broad from the lot gave me that dirty ass look as she took all of the product right in front of me. What the fuck is some old chick with a bad hip going to do with sixteen onions, Carmy? She had her stumbling grandson with his little toddler hands dropping the motherfuckers on the floor right in front of me because he couldn’t carry them all. Like, are you kidding me? Are you cooking French Onion soup for the whole neighborhood? For the next winter?”

“Richie,” Carmen grinds out as you grind down on him. His teeth clatter as he scrapes them together. “Richie… Richie…” He can’t gain Richie’s attention back as he rants in Carmen’s ear, as you swivel your hips and whine at the stretch. Carmen’s holding himself back, painfully hard from the experience you’re condoning.

“Next time I see her, it’s on. Watch what fucking soup she can make when I buy the whole stock and flip her the bird,” Richie continues, the sound of a trunk being harshly slammed on the other end. But Carmen’s had enough. He can’t take it anymore. He feels feral, he’s going to burst any second and he refuses to do so with Richie still on the line.

“Cousin, Cousin, Cousin, Cousin,” Carmen parrots, rolling his eyes as he increases his volume with each repetition.

On the other side, Richie talks over him. “She’s driving some ugly ass Pontiac, no wonder she’s bitter.”

“Cousin, Cousin, listen to me.”

“Do you think they’ll notice me if I take a stab at one of her tires?”

“Richie!”

“Nah, you’re right, it looks like there’s a bunch of fucking narcs around here.”

“Motherfucker, stop talking,” Carmen spits and that’s when Richie shouts back, his own irritation building because that entire time, he could hear Carmen babbling on and on. Apparently no one knows how to listen to a fucking story anymore.

“What? What, Carmy?” Richie responds with a yell. He must be inside of his car because Carmen heard a crash right after. Carmen pinches the bridge of his nose having finally snaked his other hand away from your underwear.

“So, you’re telling me… you don’t have the onions?” Carmen asks.

Richie sighs. The reason he felt the need to orate what happened is because of Carmen’s temper regarding the restaurant. He had one task today and he failed it because of some greedy elderly woman. Though, he understands how Carmen’s busy. Through this phone call, Richie hasn’t been able to hold his Cousin’s focus for very long. He doesn’t think there was any interval longer than three minutes where he had it all to himself.

“No, I… I don’t ha—”

The line goes dead. Richie looks down at his phone, fully tempted to call Carmen one more time to explain himself and make his stubborn, mule-headed friend see his point of view for once. He only doesn’t because he swears Carmen sounded like he was about to explode.

#l4l.writes #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear series #jeremy allen white #richie jerimovich #the phone call regarding the onions #l4l.oneshot

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