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thetriumphantpanda · 6 months

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I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.

Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)

Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“Marcus, buddy, it’s fine,” His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping it’ll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mike’s family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrow’s reception and dinner. It’s a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, it’ll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.

“Where’s Cassie?” Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadn’t shut up about over the last few months.

“She’s just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,” Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, “She’ll be here soon.” He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesn’t question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.

There’s a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. It’s not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, it’s the bridesmaid that follows behind her.

He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach that’s somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time you’d seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.

Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that it’s your favourite. You’ve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” It’s Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to what’s about to come.

“I got offered a promotion.” You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Darling!” He exclaims, “That’s amazing!” He doesn’t move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, “Why are you so upset then?”

Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide it’s best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, “It’s not here, Marcus,” You sigh, “The job is in D.C.”

The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when you’d been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.

“I don’t have to go,” You follow up with, “I haven’t accepted yet, I’ve got some time to think.”

You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, “Look at me,” He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcus’ eyes glassed over too, “Baby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you can’t say no because of me.”

Because that’s what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldn’t be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.

“I don’t want to lose you though,” You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, “I love you.”

Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until he’s sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, “I love you too,” He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure you’re looking at him, “But this is what you’ve wanted, you’ve been working so hard baby and I’m not going to let you stay here just because of me.”

It’s killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. You’ve been together two years, you’re comfortable together, he makes you so happy, you’ve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down you’re asking him to do something unfair.

“So, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasn’t changed?” You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.

You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, “Baby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you we’d talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we can’t do it.”

Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know he’s right. You’re a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.

Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.

“When do you go?” He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.

“A few weeks, probably.”

“Well, let’s enjoy them while we still can, hey?” You nod silently, “And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. He’d helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldn’t forget you. You’d text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, you’d tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they weren’t quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.

And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if he’s about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure he’s real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what he’s been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.

It’s a blessing when Cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.

“Do you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?” She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.

You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and “It’s your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.”

And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, “Bridesmaid’s always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.”

When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.

“A negroni, please.” You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed in the last few years.”

You’re pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, he’s just as handsome as he always had been, except now, he’s got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means he’s been happy, smiling, whilst you’ve been gone. It makes your heart swell that he’s been happy.

“I wonder if yours have.” You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.

“Just a beer for now.” He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.

“That’ll be a no then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced you’d find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.

“You look well.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.

“So do you.” You compliment back.

There’s another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. You’re soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you?”

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says he’ll give you that one, “I’m here alone.”

You can’t help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, “So am I.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that you’re so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.

“Is your room completely over the top?” You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, “Because mine is, I’d love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.”

“Depends what you mean by completely over the top?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then he’s taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcus’ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.

“Which floor?” Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.

“Second.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, you’re out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.

“Which room?”

It’s your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.

It’s dark inside, but you don’t care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasn’t changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, it’s just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste that’s just him.

He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.

Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly what’s happening. You know you should stop, talk about what’s clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.

“Don’t think about it,” Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, “We talk after.”

“We talk after.” You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.

Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as he’d always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.

A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcus’ hand, “You’ve changed,” You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, “When you were desperate for me you’d never tease.”

You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where he’s tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, “I’ve learnt to be more patient, honey.”

“And if I asked you not to?”

“In all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.” He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, “Unless you’ve changed, you’ll have to put up with it.”

You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, “Marcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.”

He makes a ‘tsk’ sound, his head shaking in your hands, “That’s not begging for it honey,” He coos, “You gotta ask nicely for it.”

You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, you’re sure if he dipped his fingers down he’d have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.

So you swallow your pride, you know it’ll be worth it in the end, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It all happens in a flurry. One moment you’re against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcus’ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.

His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you can’t quite believe what’s happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.

Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.

Marcus isn’t a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.

He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. He’s so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.

“I have to be inside you,” He pants against your mouth, “I promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.

“Stop squirming,” He pleads, “Please.. Just stay still a minute.”

He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.

Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, “Don’t cry baby,” He whispers into your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but there’s something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that you’ve only really known with yourself since.

“I can feel you baby,” Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, “Clenching all perfectly around me,” He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, “I won’t last baby,” He admits, “Touch yourself and we’ll do it together?”

So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, you’re so fucking close to coming undone on him.

“Marcus,” You whine, “I’m gonna-” You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, “Gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He encourages, “I’ll be right behind you.”

And that’s how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. It’s so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and you’re exactly the same as you’d both been four years ago. He’s pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.

“Where?” He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.

“I’m s-safe,” You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, “The pill.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing you’ve fallen apart for him, he’s groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

There’s a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. He’s led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.

“I can't believe you’re real.” He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.

“I know we said we’d talk after,” You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, “But can we just stay like this for a while?” It’s a soft plead, you don’t want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days it’ll all be over, he’ll go back to wherever he is now, and you’ll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.

“I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me, honey.”

Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You don’t talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasn’t stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if you’d stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. He’d thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring you’d want – he’d even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isn’t sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, you’d never expressed a want to have them, but he’s certain if you’d have asked, he’d have given them to you.

He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. You’re half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.

“I can’t walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.”

It’s soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesn’t pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.

Then, he’s awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but he’ll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, there’s a feeling of content that spreads through him – should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows he’s got his cards hidden, he’s not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but he’ll keep that to himself for just a little longer.

“So,” Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, “You and the groomsman?”

“Shut up,” You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, “A momentary lapse of judgement.”

She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, “I know that was Marcus. The Marcus.”

There’s a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like you’ve been caught being up to no good, even though you know that’s not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.

“He’s Mike’s friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days – apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, he’s tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,” She stops talking to take a drink, “Which sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.”

She’s not wrong really – Cassie had been a lifeline when you’d moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when they’d been good, but you just couldn’t get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, you’d find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.

“You did this on purpose!” You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.

“Of course we did,” She chuckles, “Don’t think about it too much,” She adds, “Just enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.”

When Cassie walks down the aisle, it’s not her that Marcus is looking at – it’s you. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he can’t deny you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesn’t get a chance until cocktail hour, once you’ve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.

“Funnily enough, it’s not me most people have been looking at.” You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when it’s handed to you.

“I’ve been looking at you.”

“I know,” You smirk, “Pretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.”

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.”

He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he can’t quite believe you’ve just been so forward. He’s not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.

Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. It’s a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.

Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Do you know how sinful you’ve looked all day?” He asks, “Walking around looking all innocent, but I know you’ve been begging to get fucked all day, haven’t you?” You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.”

“It’s only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me.”

His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.

“If I put my fingers on you,” He breathes, “Will you be wet?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.

“Baby,” He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, “Soaked for me?”

“Always, Marcus.”

He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you don’t think you’ve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.

Unlike last night, he isn’t gentle when he pushes into you. He’s buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though you’re locked in here, away from the party, there’s still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly what’s going on in here, so you’re trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Needed you so badly, baby,” Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, “Always so pretty for me, aren’t you?”

He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.

“You can’t,” You plead, “Don’t mess my hair up.”

“I won’t baby.” He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so he’s not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.

It’s fast and it’s hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldn’t make it up the stairs, couldn’t even pull your panties down your legs.

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, mouth right by your ear, “You begging for something?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand he’s got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. He’d never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that he’s waltzed right back into your life, and the fact he’s fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.

“Can feel you getting tight around me baby,” He groans into your ear, “You gonna let go for me?”

You don’t have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly you’re sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.

You’re only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you he’s close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.

“I swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, I’ll kill you.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, “You just want an excuse for me to come inside you, don’t you?” He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, “You just have to ask nicely for it.”

“Please, Marcus, please.”

Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then he’s moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.

He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, “Walking around full of me for the rest of the night.” He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.

You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks he’s caused.

You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully there’s no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.

It’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. He’d helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, he’d taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and he’d made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.

“I can’t,” You whine, Marcus hand’s pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, “It’s too much.”

He pulls off you just enough to speak, “Believe in yourself baby,” He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, “I know you can, just one more for me.”

Your whole body feels like its on fire. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when you’d begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. It’s almost as if he thinks if he stops you’ll disappear.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until he’s sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.

Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. It’s a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble you’ve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.

“What are we going to do?” You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.

“With us, after this?” Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?”

You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, “You’re going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?”

“No baby,” He chuckles a little, “I don’t live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.”

You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, “Since when?”

“Two years?” He offers, “I would have-” He trails off a little, “I would have told you but I wasn’t in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didn’t just want to turn up out of the blue if you’d moved on, found someone else.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, “I’ve waited so long for you,” You sigh, “I tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.”

“I tried too,” He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? “I promise I’ll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.”

You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, “Where in the city do you live?” You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.

“You’ve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.”

He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He asks softly, “I can be at your front door in five minutes.”

“You want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?”

“If that’s what you want,” He speaks, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“How about you take me on a first date?” You offer, “Let’s learn each other all over again and take things from there?”

Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think you’ve ever received, “I would love nothing more.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike Smut #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x F!reader #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #the mentalist #the mental illness is winning #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Pedro pascal #marcus pike fluff #Marcus Pike angst #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike The mentalist

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Missed Connection 3

Summary: A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: Listen, for my fellow Californians, I am aware there is little to no grass on Mt. Hollywood, this is fiction and I will make grass grow wherever I want it to!

Part 1 Part 2

“Dani, she wants to hang out with me today.”

You’re pacing in your apartment, AirPods in your ears, your voice just a touch below becoming shrill.

“Okay, I fail to see the problem here.”

“She said she’ll pick me up tonight. Is this a date? I don’t know anything about anything right now.”

“Do you want it to be a date?”

You throw your hands up, “Of course I want it to be a date! Have you seen her?”

Dani’s laughter crackles through your headphones, making you groan.

“I’m sorry, I’m just having a tough time feeling bad for you. Hang on- DO YOU HAVE A FUCKING BLINKER, YOU STUPID-“

You wince and turn the volume on your phone down as she yells profanities at some anonymous commuter. Some of the things that come out of her mouth are enough to make you cringe, but you have to laugh at her antics.

“Okay, sorry. LA. You know. Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah! You have accidentally run into the world’s It Girl twice, and now she wants to hang out with you. Who cares if it’s a date or not? Woo her if it isn’t, make your move if it is!”

You’re going to wear a path in your rug if you keep pacing like this. You don’t stop.

“It’s not that easy! I’m awkward, dude. I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Dani sighs so loud you think she might hang up on you.

“Let’s be real here. Besides knocking her off her feet twice, you haven’t had to make a move. She’s doing all the leg work for you. Just fucking put on something nice, and enjoy the ride!”

You know she’s right. Even if it isn’t a date, you have the privilege of hanging out with someone incredible. You straighten your spine and stop your pacing.

“You’re right. I’ve got this.”

“You’ve got this! Don’t forget to tell me all about it as soon as possible. I’m living my dreams through you. Actually, you should ask if Emma is single for me; maybe have her pass along my number….”

“Goodbye, Dani,” you laugh, phone in hand.

“Think about it! We could go on double-“

You hang up the phone, ending the conversation. You have a few hours before you need to get ready. Whatever Jenna is taking you to do doesn’t require daylight because she’s not coming to get you until nightfall.

You’re dressed and ready far too early. Your nerves are making you feel so queasy you wonder if this is a good idea. Maybe you’d rather sit in your apartment alone and freak out about the time you almost went on a maybe date with Jenna Ortega. The idea of that alone strengthens your resolve. You will do this. It’s not like she’s going to murder you…you think.

In an effort to calm your anxiety, you leave your apartment and wait outside. Pacing has become your new thing, apparently, because you’re practically blazing a trail in the parking lot concrete. You consider calling Dani but decide against it. She’d probably yell about how lucky you were and tell you to buck up.

An SUV pulls into the lot, but you ignore it, too busy with your worrying to notice. It isn't until it pulls up next to you that you give it any attention. The black-tinted window rolls down, and your heart nearly leaps out of your throat. Jenna is smiling at you behind the wheel, her fingers drumming on it. She’s twenty minutes early.

“I was going to park and give myself about ten minutes to be nervous before I let you know I was here. So…you’ve kind of ruined that for me,” she says with an embarrassed smile on her face.

You stop pacing and stare. She’s nervous. You’re nervous. Suddenly the idea of her being anxious makes you feel it less. You walk up to the car and rest your hands on the window frame.

“I came out here because I was too anxious to sit in my apartment for another minute.”

Her face relaxes as you speak, realizing you’re both feeling the same way.

“Well, get in then. Our simultaneous meltdowns will have to happen on the way up.”

You open the car door and climb in, the window rolling up as you close the door.

“Up?” You ask, buckling your seatbelt.

“Up,” she parrots back, not giving you further context.

“You haven’t told me what we’re doing.”

“There's a meteor shower tonight,” she says as she pulls out of your parking lot, the music from her car radio playing quietly.

You turn to watch her, curiosity getting the better of your nerves, “Yeah, there is. I’m surprised you know about that.”

She scoffs, “Why? You think actors don’t like the sky just as much as anyone else?”

“No,” you laugh, “no, of course not. I just figured you’d be so busy. When do you even have time for stuff like that?”

Her eyebrows raise, and she tilts her head to the side, glancing over at you. “Right now.”

You nod, feeling a little stupid. You chalk it up to still being starstruck. At least in the car, it was impossible for you to accidentally tackle her this time, though the image of purposefully falling on top of her isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever thought of. You widen your eyes at the thought, chastising yourself for how out of line it was. You still don’t really know if this is a date.

You look over at her and catch her chewing her bottom lip. She’s still nervous. The thought of that makes you feel giddy. Her eyes leave the road for a second to look over at you, and she smiles again, looking back out the windshield.

“I think you’re going to like this. Well, I hope you do, because if not, I’ll overthink it for the next lifetime.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll like anything you have planned,” you blurt out, immediately regretting the way your voice goes up an octave.

She just continues to smile, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. A song you recognize starts playing through the speakers, and you hum along to it, trying your best to look out the window and not stare at her as she drives. It’s more difficult than you had imagined it would be.

When her car pulls into the Griffith Park Observatory, you know you’re totally screwed. Either she has you perfectly pinned, or your tastes in a fun night out are so similar there's no way you’re not going to fall in love with her.

She parks her car and turns to you, “This is it. Is this okay?”

“Okay? Jenna, this is fucking great.” You reassure her, maybe a little overenthusiastically.

The reaction she gives you makes your being a bit of a fool worth it. The tension in her shoulders you hadn't noticed before dissipates, the shallow lines between her eyebrows smooth out, and her eyes crinkle in the corners. She gets out of the car, and you follow, waiting at the front while she grabs something from the back seat. When she rounds the car, she’s carrying a rolled up blanket and a tote bag. You can hear glasses clinking and can’t help the devious grin that takes control of your face.

“What do you have there?”

She shrugs, making her way past you toward the park, “Come find out.”

You follow her, jogging to catch up. She leads you down a path behind the observatory through a thin clutch of trees. You’ve been here enough to know where she’s going; everyone in LA hikes Mount Hollywood at least once. It’s late enough that there aren’t many people out, and in casual clothes, Jenna blends in with the rest of them.

You’re content to walk beside her, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. In fact, you know you’re the luckiest person in the world because she steals glances at you every few minutes as you walk. She turns off the path toward a grassy hill and stops, unfurling the blanket and laying it out. She sits, arranging the bag in her lap, and you take your place next to her, your shoulders brushing.

She pulls a bottle of wine from the bag, holds it up for you to take as she digs around the bottom of it. You laugh, eyeing the label.

“Ma’am, I don't think you’re old enough for this. Am I supposed to drink it alone?”

She frowns at you, her arm up to her elbow in the bag, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Okay, okay. Jenna Ortega is a bad boy type, huh?”

She snorts, “Oh yeah, a bottle of wine on a blanket really screams bad boy.”

She stops looking at you and opens the bag with both hands, peering inside of it with a frown.

“Slight problem, though,” she pulls out a corkscrew and hands it to you, returning to the bag. “I think I forgot cups.”

You raise an eyebrow and smirk, using the corkscrew to open the bottle. With the cork dislodged, you take a swig from the bottle and grin.

“We don’t need them, here.” You hand the bottle over to her, and she sets the bag aside, watching you closely.

She takes a sip, her eyes still on your face. She seems to be looking for something there, but she gives no indication of what it is. After a moment, she hands the bottle back to you and leans back on her elbows, her face pointed to the sky.

“It’s starting,” she says, pointing up.

You drink another gulp and mirror her, resting the bottle on your side. You watch the pinpoints of light streak across the sky, their tails turning white as they burn up. Thousands of them shower over you, and you almost forget where you are until Jenna’s pinky brushes yours, and suddenly the falling rocks in the sky are not even close to the most interesting thing in the world. You turn your head to look at her, her eyes still on the sky.

The flashes of the meteors spark in her eye, and the moon shines down on her cheekbones, and suddenly you feel the need to drink more wine. You turn and take a healthy gulp, offering the bottle to her. She smiles politely and takes it, drinking from it twice before resting it between you and wiping her chin with the back of her hand. She tilts her head back again, her posture relaxed.

“You’re supposed to be admiring the meteors, y/n.”

You feel heat rise into your cheeks, and your eyes widen in embarrassment. You jerk your head up, and she giggles at your side. You reach for the bottle at the same moment she does, and your fingers brush again, quickly turning your attention to your hand. You look up, and she’s already looking at you, her expression shy. She hands you the bottle, and you drink, passing it back to her.

In an effort to relieve the clear tension that you don't know how to handle, you break the silence.

“So what’s it like?”

She swallows, rests the bottle on her leg, “What’s what like?”

“Fame, fortune, the love of the masses?”

She sighs, “It kind of came as a surprise. I know that sounds stupid because of my job, but it really did.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.”

“No, it definitely does. And I’m grateful, I really am. I just wasn’t ready for how insane it was going to be.”

“I mean, there have to be perks, though, right?”

“Of course there are. Actually, I’m going to the Met Gala next week. That’s a major perk.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “That sounds terrifying. There’s a reason I stay behind the camera.”

Jenna sits up and looks down at you, a spark of an idea in her eye. You frown, waiting to hear what she has to say.

“You should come. To the Gala.”

You snort, “Absolutely not. Jenna, no way.”

But it’s too late. She's excited, nodding, pushing the wine bottle into your hands.

“Yes way! Come! It’ll be so much more fun if you’re there.”

You take another drink, smile around the mouth of the bottle, “I’ll consider it. But only for work. There is no way I’m going anywhere near that red carpet.”

“It’s not red this year.”

“That does not change the situation.”

Jenna does not drop the idea for the rest of the night. The meteor shower is quickly forgotten as you both take turns sipping from the bottle of wine, talking. She tells you about the dress she’s wearing to the gala, gushes over it for longer than you realized anyone could speak on a garment. You enjoy it, watching her talk animatedly about her stylist and the designer. As the bottle empties and inhibitions lower, you both grow more comfortable with each other. The awkwardness from the beginning of the night fades away, and you quickly find yourself at ease with her again.

You’re not sure what time it is when she orders an Uber, both of you laughing and stumbling back to the parking lot. When the car stops at your apartment, you want to kiss her. You want her to show you a sign, any sign that it’s okay. You don’t give yourself enough time to make a stupid mistake, though, and end up jumping out of the car right as she leans toward you.

You dip your head down into the car, “I had a lot of fun tonight. I’ll see you soon.”

She looks up at you, her eyes hopeful, “Get ready for New York. I’m going to convince you to go if it’s the last thing I do.”

You smirk, shaking your head, “Good night!”

You shut the door and watch the car pull out of your lot, a lopsided grin on your face. When it’s out of sight, you head inside, ready to tell Dani the whole story. And maybe try to find a reason to work at the Met Gala. One that has more to do with your portfolio, and less to do with brown eyes and freckles.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you

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harlowcomehome · 5 months

Text

Thanksgiving on the road:

You sat beside Jack in the sprinter van, his jaw was tense and he was scrolling mindlessly on his phone. His legs were spread, your knees almost touching.

You knew he was upset about missing Thanksgiving this year but he didn’t want to openly admit that and make the day even worse.

The snowstorm had gotten bad, meaning all of the flights that were supposed to go out were delayed for days. Maggie had offered to put Thanksgiving dinner off for a day or so but Jack didn’t want his entire family waiting on him so he politely declined, even though a part of him really wanted them to.

This was supposed to be your first Thanksgiving away from your own family, you had agreed to go home with Jack which he now felt overwhelmingly guilty about.

He did his best not to miss major holidays, keeping a promise to his mom and now he felt like he was letting her down too.

Keeping all of these emotions inside was killing him, but he didn’t want to come off as ungrateful so he kept it to himself.

You were anxious about the roads, the snow making them slippery as you watched it continue to flurry out the window. Luckily you were almost to the hotel where you’d be snowed in for the next few days to come.

Jack grabbed your hand giving it a squeeze of reassurance with a slight smile. He knew you hated weather like this, and the intense fear of sliding off the road wasn’t helping.

“Almost babe” he whispered weakly, his eyes still set on scrolling on his phone. He rubbed your hand with his thumb for added reassurance.

Urban gave you a pathetic half-smile, knowing the energy in the van was gloomy.

When you got to the hotel, Jack mumbled something about taking a nap and you knew now that it was deeper than surface level. He was more upset than you had originally thought.

“Well, Happy Thanksgiving baby” he mumbled sadly, kissing you before falling asleep.

You waited for him to start snoring before sliding out of the hotel bed and going to Neelam's room instead.

You text her before walking over, asking her to text Urban so the three of you could talk.

Urban and Neelam sat apart waiting for you to come in.

“What’s going on with Jack?” You panicked as you entered the room, not giving anyone else a chance to speak first.

Neelam looked to Urban for a response.

“He promised his mom he wouldn’t miss any holidays, and now he feels bad because you’re also missing yours with your folks” he shrugged.

“He told you that?” Neelam questioned, looking to him and then you for a reaction.

“No, I just know him” he shrugged again, softly laughing like it should’ve been common knowledge.

“I know you-“ Neelam pointed in your direction. “So what are you about to have us do?”

Urban let out a loud laugh, also knowing this to be true and waiting for direction.

You looked around Neelam's suite frantically for ideas.

“Maybe we can push those tables together. We can call room service and see what kind of Thanksgiving meals they have if any?”

“I saw turkey sandwiches in the vending machines if nothing else” Urban shrugged and you nodded.

“Go get some of those!” Neelam gave him some money from her purse as the two of you moved the tables together.

“They might sell out” she defended herself as Urban quickly left the room.

Once the door shut the two of you started immediately talking.

“I knew he was upset about not being able to go home today but I never knew about the promise he made to Maggie.”

“He told her he’d try his best to not miss any holidays and this is the first one” Neelam responded before she looked around for a sheet to put over the tables.

“I mean, it’s not like he can control the weather” you sighed helping her cover the table.

“You know how Jack is though, a total control freak” she paused “Respectfully.”

Urban was back with the sandwiches and handed them to you to place in the fridge.

You called downstairs, ordering some mashed potatoes and a few other side dishes to be delivered to Neelam's room in thirty minutes.

That gave you time to wake up Jack and get dressed in something a little fancier than sweats and an oversized sweater.

“Should we call Maggie and Brian while we eat?” You pondered out loud, trying to think of a way to include his family.

“I’ll FaceTime Maggie, Brian, Clay, and the rest of Jack's family that way they can be here too” Urban suggested as you were getting ready to leave the room.

“I owe you” you smiled at him as you left to go back to yours and Jacks shared room.

When you made it back to your room Jack was sitting up in bed, he was watching something on TV with a sad expression.

“I called you” he mumbled, holding his arms out for you to get in bed with him.

You shook your head, “my love, I need you to get up!”

“I just want to lay here” he laid flat in bed, pulling the covers over his shoulders.

“You can’t! Get dressed babe, I have a surprise for you” you smiled, walking over to your suitcase to get out the dress you intended to wear today.

“A surprise?” He sat up, running his hands through his hair, fluffing out the curls. He was immediately curious.

“What are you up to woman?” He teased, throwing his legs over the bed and rushing over to hold you from behind.

“You’ll see!” You giggled as he spun you around briefly before setting you back down.

Jack didn’t waste time, he got dressed in a cream-colored sweater and dress pants and waited for you to finish touching up your makeup.

“What’s going on?” He asked impatiently, he knew you had to have planned something when Urban wasn’t answering his messages.

Neelam text you a thumbs up, meaning it was show time. You checked the hotel hallway for people before waving your hand and motioning for Jack to follow you.

He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and the two of you giggled as you quickly ran down the hallway to the other end.

When Neelam opened the door, you led Jack to the makeshift Thanksgiving day table.

His family was on FaceTime, leaning against a chair.

Jack was in disbelief. He was shocked that you had gone through all of this effort but more so that you had involved his family too.

“Hi, honey!” His mom waved and Jack held his hand over his mouth, hiding the fact that his lip was quivering. He took a moment before sitting down in front of the phone with you by his side.

“Hi guys” he chuckled, finally able to form words.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come home but…“

“Don’t worry about that. You couldn’t control it. We just want you to be safe” Brian chimed in, giving Jack the release of all the pressure that he felt.

Jack laughed when Urban set out the turkey sandwiches, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye before telling his family that he loved them and that he’d see them soon.

“Turkey sandwiches?” An authentic chuckle came out of him, one of those laughs that comes from deep within and you knew he felt much better about today.

You affectionately rubbed his leg, giving him a soft smile and looking to him with adoration as your chin leaned against his shoulder.

“Thanks for this” he smiled, making eye contact with the three of you briefly.

“This was all her idea” Neelam motioned to you.

“I went and got the sandwiches though” Urban joked, earning a soft elbow to the side from Neelam.

“Happy Thanksgiving baby” you whispered before leaning in for a kiss.

“Happy Thanksgiving baby” he mumbled against your lips in return.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb #Jack Harlow fan fic

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sorrowedpickle · 9 months

Text

In my arms

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Summary: times are hard for Jenna while filming for Wednesday, so you decide to pay her a little visit

A/N: I was eating Reese pieces while making this

A lil short once again

Warnings: none? I think

Your fingers drum on your knees as you stare out the window, eyes watching the trees and buildings pass in the dark night as the Uber drives you from the air port to your girlfriends apartment, well her temporary one.

It had been hard on her, the filming of Wednesday was a difficult process. She would wake up earlier than the rest of the cast to get ready and film, practicing different things to make her role perfectly.

Then, without even having a break from her hours of work, her Cello instructor would be waiting inside her apartment for her to start their session. Leaving her absolutely exhausted with not much sleep, the most she can get is only about six to seven before getting up and repeating the whole process.

She had called you a number of times, crying her eyes out and seeking your comfort late at night. Ranting about all of it while all you could do is sit there and listen, heartbreaking as you listen to the poor girl as she speaks and cries.

So, you did the only thing you knew you could do. Bought the expensive ass plane ticket, went through the whole process of getting through security only for the flight to be delayed for a few hours next to a screaming baby.

But, it was all worth for her, especially since she’s gone through worse in the past few months you two have been apart. It’s the least you could do instead of just lazing around your home worrying about her.

Eventually, you arrive at the apartment building and get out, hauling your duffel bag over your shoulders and paying the uber a decently large tip and stepping inside making a beeline for the elevator and luckily, the lady at the front desk doesn’t question you.

You feel a mixture of emotions running through your body as you wait for the elevator to take you up to Jenna's apartment. On one hand, you're excited to finally see her after being apart for what feels like forever. On the other hand, you're a bit anxious about how she'll react to your surprise visit.

The elevator doors open, and you step out into a quiet hallway. You make your way down the hall, feeling a bit nervous as you approach the door to Jenna's apartment.

You feel your heart race as you knock on Jenna's apartment door. A few moments later, you hear soft footsteps and the sound of locks being undone. The door opens, and Jenna stands there in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

Before she can say anything, you step forward and wrap your arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace eager to feel her in your arms again. She immediately melts into you, clinging to you tightly.

You feel her shudder slightly, tense body relaxing under your hold and you take a moment to realize how much you’ve actually missed her. Her smell, the way she felt, her holding you. "You're here," she whispers.

"Of course I am," you respond, running your fingers through her dark hair. You breathe in the scent of her shampoo and feel the weight of her head on your chest. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and all the tension and worry of the past few weeks dissolves into nothing.

For a moment, you stand there, simply enjoying the sensation of her in your arms. You had gone too had been too long without holding the petite girl and she seemed to agree as her grip tightens on you.

You slowly pull away but not too far, reaching one hand up to rest on the side of her face causing her to look up at you with those beautiful brown eyes.

You smile, pressing a gently yet needy kiss to her soft lips that she immediately returns, placing both of her arms around your shoulders to pull you closer.

Then, with a sigh of contentment, you slowly pull away and gently lift her up bridal style and carry her inside the apartment, kicking your duffle back to sit beside the door.

As you make your way through the apartment, you take the time to look around the place. It was small but enough room for one person, her things liter around the place made it seem fit just for her. The take out boxes helped with that too.

You enter her room and gently set her down on her bed, noticing how exhausted she looks after the long hours she’s been working. Her skin is pale, and she has dark circles under her eyes from fatigue. You brush her hair back from her face, noticing how long it's grown since you last saw her, and kiss her tenderly on the forehead. "I'm here now," you say softly. "You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Jenna looks up at you with a soft look on her face. The small smile made your heart melt, and you can feel her arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly. You smile down at her, feeling the way your heart beat started up and warmth that filled your stomach. She seemed to always have that affect on you no matter how long you’ve known her.

"I missed you so much," Jenna says, her voice trembling.

"I missed you too," you reply, brushing a strand of hair from her face. A smell smile rest on your face as you stare at her, deep brown eyes tired but so full of life, freckles scattered across the pale skin she had earned from the lack of sun in Romania. "Let's get you some rest, okay?"

You help her shift into the bed and get comfortable, moving to lay beside her in the her back pressed into your front as you wrap your arms around her and pull her impossibly closer. Her arms wrap around yours, gripping tightly as she’s in a dream and you’ll disappear when she wakes.

You simply just kiss the back of her head, legs intertwining with hers and you take her hand, linking your fingers together and squeezing them gently.

You both lay there in the bed, listening to the gentle sound of each other's breathing, lost in each other's embrace. You feel your limbs growing heavy with weariness, but you don't want to let go. You want to stay here, in this moment, with her forever.

Just as you think you might drift off to sleep, you hear Jenna's voice, soft and husky. "I love you," she says, her breath warming the skin on your arms causing goosebumps to run along your skin.

You smile, your heart swelling with love. "I love you too," you say, your voice just as quiet and tender as hers.

As you drift off to sleep, you're filled with a sense of peace and contentment. This is home, her in your arms.

—

Tagslist: @bluetreecloud20 @skate-to-breathee @wol-fica @raven-ss @restlessdot @dumb-fvck104 @tabberthecat @crazyoffher @rhythm-catsandwine @makncheese12 @alexkolax @jennasfav @melthedwarf @t-wylia @unknownuserzdjdh @pnsteblnme @eevelyn

A/N: something I had saved in my notes for a bit.

Also please let me know what you think, I’m not sure about it😭

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #lorraine day x reader #x reader #tara carpenter #vada cavell x reader #x fem reader #wednsday addams #wednesday series

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thelightsandtheroses · 3 months

Text

2. soak up the sun

Let's Get Lost Chapter 2 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place. However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster … Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, refereneces to past drug addiction, discussions of food, small mentions of various insecurities and body image, passing reference to alcohol, Frankie and the reader are parents to a toddler, past break-ups. Word Count: 2807 Notes: Thank you for the lovely feedback so far - it's meant so much to me and I hope you enjoy this update. I have a lot planned for this fic. The chapter title is from Sheryl Crow's song of the same name.

Previous | Series | Next

There’s nothing quite like a breakfast buffet. Whenever you travel, you can’t help but judge the hotel, judge the entire stay by the quality of the breakfast. If the coffee is good, if the food is fresh and tasty, if it feels welcoming … that’s the magic formula - for you, at least.

After an inauspicious start to your vacation, you’re hoping that the breakfast will be a silver lining, that you can recharge before trying to resolve the room situation.

It was hard to sleep last night. You were so aware of Frankie on the other side of the pillow barrier, so anxious over everything that had gone wrong. You couldn’t play your sleep stories or calming music and your room and bed felt so unfamiliar.

You need to relax.

You need to hold things together for Lia and Clara, because this week is about them and not the messes of your current state of mind or relationship with Frankie.

Clara is holding Frankie’s hand and happily pulling him ahead as he tries to guide her to the right place.

When you arrive in the veranda, you can see Lia, Benny, Will and Sophie, Wil’s wife, as well as Santiago already occupying a large table. Lia waves you over with a smile.

She immediately pulls you into a hug as you approach and you’re hit with your friend’s comforting presence, her familiar scent of coconut and vanilla. “Finally,” she says, “Now we’re all here.”

You look over to see Frankie giving Santiago a one-armed hug before Santi pays attention to Clara.

“Clara, look at you,” he says, adding in Spanish, “you’re so tall now, huh?” He nods cordially to acknowledge you as you sit next to Sophie.

“Heard your flight got delayed?” Will asks calmly, his arm casually resting on Sophie’s chair. Sophie’s intelligent and smart and incredibly pretty to boot. You do get on with her, but you can’t help remembering Will and Sophie’s wedding every time you see then. It’s an automatic, almost Pavlovian response that leaves you with a dry throat and sweaty palms. You’re sure she remembers that night too. It was a real lowlight for you and Frankie after all.

You hope Benny’s wedding will be an improvement.

Surely it can’t be any worse than Will’s?

You break out of your reverie and look over at Will, answering his question, “Yeah, it wasn’t that bad. Only a couple of hours in the end.” You can’t mention the room debacle yet and judging by Frankie’s subtle nod to you, he’s in agreement with you on that. “How’s the coffee?” you ask, the hope palpable in your voice.

“Amazing,” Sophie says, “Really good quality and fresh.” She winks at you, clearly remembering your breakfast litmus test.

Well, that’s something then.

Fifteen minutes later, you’ve almost finished your first cup of coffee, Clara is eating her eggs under her Tio Santi’s careful supervision. It’s funny watching Santi with her; he never struck you as particularly paternal, perhaps because he never seemed to put roots down anywhere, but Clara adores him. She adores all of Frankie’s close friends. Benny is brilliant with her, so’s Will.

Despite Frankie having less and less contact with his biological family over the years, he’s given Clara the gift of his chosen family. You can’t pretend to understand the bond and brotherhood between Frankie, Will, Santi and Benny - it runs deep. It’s enough to know that they’re his brothers. They’ll always be his brothers.

You take a bite of your own breakfast, daring yourself to relax just a little. Sophie’s right - the coffee is good.

Hope loosens the tight thread around your stomach just a fraction.

“What’s your plan for today then?” Lia asks. ”Just settling in?“

“I think someone wants to go to the beach,” you say, indicating Clara.

“A beach day sounds great. We should all go, before things get hectic.”

“Thanks,” you say in a low voice. “What do you need from me over the next few days? I know I’ve been a shitty bridesmaid recently, so just tell me what you need.”

“Right now? We’re good. I’m just so glad you’re here,” Lia says.

It’s peaceful. The steady rhythm of waves flowing and withdrawing barely conceal the soft giggles you can hear from Clara with Frankie a few meters away.

Next to you, Lia and Benny are sunbathing. Lia is lounging against him, a glossy magazine in one hand and what you suspect is a frozen strawberry daiquiri in the other hand. The two of them look like models; skin glowing in the sun, colour coordinated swimwear and sunglasses in place. They’re perfect for each other.

It hits you suddenly; you’re surrounded by couples. Even Santi is off flirting with someone by the water.

You scrunch your toes into the golden sand and exhale slowly.

It’s hard to stop your brain thinking about work for the first few days of a holiday; you find your fingers automatically twitching as they want to reach for a phone or laptop to check emails and messages.

They can cope without you. You know that. It’s just your anxiety, just the corporate machine and it shouldn’t matter. What you should be thinking about is your family, is Lia’s wedding, being a good bridesmaid, a good mother, a good friend and co-parent with Frankie.

You think back to your conversation with the hotel staff before coming to the beach. It turns out there is no alternative room for you or Frankie until the final night of your stay. The hotel is fully booked, so unless one of you stays somewhere else then you’re stuck in the same hotel room for most of the week.

It’s not fair on either of you to be somewhere else either - not when you’re both in the wedding party, both Clara’s parents.

It doesn’t feel like you have much of a choice.

You’re not sure how to tell Frankie about the conversation you’ve just had with the hotel. It isn’t your fault, not technically, but somehow it feels like another in a long list of failures.

You watch your daughter building a sandcastle. She looks so happy; half covered in sand and clapping her hands in delight as Frankie carefully lifts the sandcastle bucket. You hold your breath for a second in the hope that one particularly shaky looking turret holds out.

She’s having a great time at least. That’s what you really wanted.

You put your book down, standing up to go and join the two of them.

“Hey Clara, mum’s here,” Frankie says, waving you over with a smile. You can’t help but notice the way sand has slightly stuck to his thigh while he’s been building the castle with Clara and how he’s already unbuttoned his shirt by a scandalous three buttons.

“Hi sweetie,” you say, “that is an amazing sandcastle. Did you build that one all by yourself?”

Clara purses her lips, deep in thought. She looks at Frankie and then at you and for a second she nods then shakes her head. “Daddy helped.”

“Only a bit,” he says kindly.

“Yeah, I can tell someone with an engineering background has been involved,” you joke which earns you one of Frankie’s best smiles. It’s one of the dazzling ones that made you fall in love with him the first time.

“Did uh, everything go okay with -” Frankie begins as he stands up, grimacing briefly and covering it immediately.

“We can talk about it later,” you say, smiling unnaturally brightly and quickly looking at Clara and then the others.

Frankie immediately understands your implications - you watch a range of emotions dance across his eyes before he settles with a similarly bright but false smile.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. “We’ll be fine. It’s just a week, right?”

You smile weakly and nod. There’s always the bathtub, maybe Frankie was right about that.

You can hear music lightly playing as you and Clara walk back into the hotel room. She’s stifling a yawn, clearly already tired from the day’s events so far. There’s just enough time for you to have a quick shower before you head out for the early family dinner you have planned.

Frankie and you have discussed it in depth and spoken to the hotel babysitting service but you agreed to save that for wedding related events. There’s no reason the two of you can’t work it out between yourselves the rest of the time and ensure at least one of you is with your daughter. Plus, the whole idea’s about giving Clara that family holiday, right?

Frankie’s reading on the bed and looks up at the two of you.

“Hey guys,” he says as Clara immediately bounds towards him.

“Daddy!” she cries, as though they have been separated for weeks not a couple of hours.

He shakes his head, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your only response is a quick shrug. “Do you mind if I have a shower before we head for dinner? I’m thinking if we both use the bathroom before we put Clara to b-well, you know where -”

“Sounds like a plan. I had a shower when I got in, so it’s all yours.”

“Great.”

Frankie places his book face down on the bed and diverts his attention to your daughter.

You loiter for just a moment before heading to the bathroom; you’ve been looking forward to this shower all day. The hotel bathroom is well appointed to say the least and the fancy, rainfall shower with all the attachments and luxurious smelling shampoo has sung to your sun and sand stressed body.

You start to feel relaxed as you wrap the white fluffy towel around your body and continue your self-care routine. Why not allow yourself some small indulgences while you’re on holiday after all?

It’s then you realise that you forgot your clean clothes. You were wearing your beach clothes when you walked into the bathroom; your costume is now hanging up to dry after all, taunting you slightly, and your cover up is sheer and oh, you have made a definite mistake here.

You feel the heat rising as you try and think about what to do.

“Frankie, can you just shut your eyes a minute?” you ask, pursing your lips as wrap the towel tighter around yourself.

“Why?” Frankie calls from the room then you hear him make a slightly embarrassed sound as he clearly figures it out. “I mean, it’s okay. It’s fine. Just uh, just tell me when.”

It’s fine, you think, you used to date after all. He’s seen you so many times in far worse states. For a second you remember how things used to be between you and Frankie. At one point, you wondered if there was a surface in your house you hadn’t been with him on. He seemed to take that as a challenge when you asked him.

You can almost hear the echoing laughter and memories as they sweep over you, a wave of emotion, regret, sadness and then finally a sad tang of bitterness.

You take a deep breath. “Okay, now,” you say and then you open the door.

He has his eyes covered with one hand but he has a wicked smirk and you can’t help but wonder if he is peeking, if he thinks you still look … no, this isn’t healthy.

You shuffle around in the towel to try and discreetly change, almost tripping over one of Clara’s toys on the way.

The clatter makes Frankie straighten slightly.

“False alarm,” you say, voice low as an unspoken tension fills the room.

“Good,” he says, one hand still casually covering those eyes.

You finally pull your trousers up and tug the light white top over your shoulders.

“Okay, it’s safe now.”

“Great.” He looks over at you with a slight smile. “You look good, cielo.” The old nickname slips out and his eyes widen, panic filling his face.

The tension in the room thickens. Somehow it feels like you’re in two realities simultaneously; one where Frankie is still yours and this one – the one where there’s scores of shared memories, pain and change between the last time he called you cielo.

You can’t even remember the last time he called you that.

It’s not as though you knew it was the last time after all.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, not sure whether to acknowledge the name or not. “You’re not doing too bad yourself.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, his cheeks fiercely colouring, then he stands up from the bed - your bed. “We should go get some dinner, huh, Clara?”

The early dinner serving is filled with families like your own. You take a sip of your soda and look out at the beach ahead of you. You think you can see Lia, Benny and the others in the distance, still taking full advantage of their time away from it all.

“You could have got a drink,” Frankie says suddenly and quietly. He looks down and away from you as you look over at him.

“I have a soda,” you reply, furrowing your brow.

“I saw you reading the wine list and the cocktails and - it doesn’t bother me.”

“Frankie, it’s fine.”

“I’m just saying, it won’t upset me or anything, or trigger me. I-I’m in a good place, right now.” He looks at you with his deep soulful and hopeful eyes. You believe him, even fighting against that tiny anxious voice in your mind that remembers the past year.

That doesn’t mean you feel particularly comfortable drinking around him right now though.

“I don’t want a drink tonight,” you say finally, “but thanks, Frankie, for saying that.”

He shrugs. “‘S nothing.”

“No, it’s not. It’s - I’m - we’re all really proud of you, you do know that right?”

His cheeks colour slightly. “You shouldn’t have to be,” he says finally, before turning his attention to Clara in a clear signal the conversation is over.

“I was thinking about the itinerary you sent through.”

“Okay?”

“You didn’t allow yourself much time for yourself.”

“I’m a bridesmaid, Frankie, any time I’m not with Clara, I should -”

“How many books did you bring with you?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“It really isn’t.” Frankie takes a forkful of his rice. “So, how many?”

“Four.” It had been wilfully naive. A combination of the books you kept hearing Lia and other friends talking about, books you’d wanted to read for so long but had gathered dust on your bedside table, and finally one of them was a stress induced purchase at the airport bookstore for the sheer audacity of your flight being delayed.

“Four books?”

“I probably won’t finish any of them.”

“Why not? You’re not on your own here with Clara and Lia doesn’t need you for every moment you’re not with our kid. I’m here too, sweetheart, so read your books and do it all. Spend tie with Clara, do the wedding shi-stuff, wasn’t that the whole point of this?”

“What about you?” you ask gently, “You should - you should have the same too. I know things have been tough and trust me, if anyone deserves a vacation -”

“We both do.”

“Okay.”

You both watch Clara cheerfully spooning spaghetti and then meet each other’s gaze again.

“I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too.”

“I can’t imagine it’s easy. Maybe I should have got a twin room with Santi.”

“Like he would have let you block his chances with a holiday fling,” you joke.

“That’s why there’s always a bathtub option.”

“Absolutely not. Besides, this is family, right? Benny’s your family, Lia’s as good as mine. And this one,” you indicate Clara. Your daughter who has her dad’s eyes, so many of his features, and yet, so much of yourself too. She’s a blend of the best of you both, you think. “You’re both my family.”

“Same,” he says, looking up at you carefully, “That’s never changed.”

There’s a silence.

“Sweetheart, what do you want to do tomorrow?” you ask Clara, even for her babbling to break the moment.

She takes a deep breath and places her fork down on her plate. Frankie suppresses a giggle at her serious expression. “Well,” she begins.

The two of you raise your eyebrows at each other, the tension broken. The moment’s passed.

You feel muddled on this vacation. There’s something about Frankie looking at you in his vacation clothes, glowing with sobriety and adoring your daughter that makes you feel …. something. Something you’re pretty sure you shouldn’t feel about him.

Tag List

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#frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #fic: let's get lost #frankie morales x you

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k-slla · 5 months

Text

Hello, goodbye.

A/N: This is my second post for @jacklesversebingo / All mistakes are mine

Square filled: Break-Up

Warnings: Angst, mentions of alcohol, language, cheating, hurt, tiny bit of fluff/comfort

Word count: ~3.5k

My Masterlist

Staring at the bottom of your almost empty tea cup, you waited for Jensen to come home. You grabbed your phone again from the table to send him another text but ended up throwing it on the couch because your previous messages, sent yesterday around noon were left on read by him.

"Hey, babe! I know you're going to board the plane soon, but call me when you land. Miss you!❤️"

Few hours later followed by next one.

"Hey, you haven't called yet:( I know you should be home by now..I'll finish up work in a minute, see you soon!"

And before these were even more calls and messages. More "I miss you's", "Can't wait to see you's" & "Love you's". All went to voicemail or were just left on read. He's just busy, you had tried to reason this silence on his part so far. But when you got home yesterday evening, he was not there. Probably his flight got delayed or phone battery ran out you had thought but as the hours passed, you felt that it was something else. Never has he ignored you or been radio silent for this long. Another full day had passed, without him contacting you. And now you were getting more anxious by the minute. Jared should probably know where Jensen is, right? You wanted to call him but it was already past midnight so you settled on sending him a text. Maybe they went for a drinks and he forgot to tell you. Unlikely, but still a possibility.

You dragged yourself to the kitchen to make another tea, so you could try to get some sleep. While waiting for the kettle, you sent another text to him.

"Jensen, where are you? I'm worried. Call me."

You let out a frustrated sigh and cursed yourself for being such a nervous mess. You decided to ditch the tea and go straight to bed instead. You were certain that his flight was just delayed, which wouldn't exactly explain him ignoring your messages but you were probably just overthinking about everything as always.

You had no idea how long you had been asleep but when you woke up hearing the front door closing, light was dimly shining in through the blinds. Confused, you sat up in bed and looked for your phone. Almost 10am. Jared had sent two messages.

"Sorry, he's not with me:( trying to call now"

"Couldn't reach him, please let me know when he's home"

You could hear Jensen's heavy footsteps downstairs but decided to stay in bed. Mostly to see if he'd come upstairs to wake you. But he didn't, so you threw on a pair of fluffy slippers and a sweater and went downstairs. The smell of fresh coffee hit you as soon you opened the bedroom door.

You tried to stay mad at him longer, for making you worry but when you heard him humming in the kitchen, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. He sat at the island with his back towards you, so that gave you a perfect chance to sneak up on him. You hugged him from behind and he flinched.

"Jesus!" He quietly muttered under his breath. "Nope, just me. I missed you!" You whispered into his ear and kissed his stubbly cheek. "You scared me. I thought you were working today. Didn't see your car out." He sounded almost disappointed.

"Sorry." You smiled apologetically. " Didn't I told you that I'm taking the weekend off? We can spend it together before you have to go back." You turned around to pour yourself some coffee. "Did you your flight got delayed? I thought you were coming home on Thursday."

While you were searching for creamer from the fridge, you didn't notice Jensen tensing up at your question. You grabbed your cup and sat down across from him, looking at him questionably.

"No, it's just- I-" he started evasively. " I just needed some time alone." You stared at him in disbelief. "What?" You asked laughing half-heartedly. "Jensen, we haven't seen each other for two months and you needed more time alone?"

"Did I do or say something?" You asked after a minute of trying to process what he told you. "You've been almost completely ignoring me for the past weeks. Actually it seems like few months even. I feel like-" You reached for his hand across the table but he pulled back. "I feel like I'm losing you." He took a deep breath in and leaned back in his chair. "I thought- hoped actually- that you were working today, so I could figure it out how to tell you." Your breathing quickened. "Tell me what?"

Jensen looked straight into your eyes. "I'm going to file for a divorce." The coldness in his gaze and tone cut deep. You got confused for a second and squared you shoulders, forcing back tears, that were threatening to spill. You did not expect that. "But what- I mean why? Because I started talking more about having kids?" You had hoped the timing was right for the two of you to start trying at least. You had been together for over five years, married close to two now. Of course you wanted to have kids with him one day.

"I wanted to start family too but- " he stopped, looking for the right words. "I guess people change."

You scoffed. People change. People do change, but it doesn't happen almost overnight like this.

Your thoughts started to run now in one direction only. You were kicking and cursing yourself internally for allowing you even think this. "Is there someone else?" You asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Jensen's face turned stoic. "Does it matter? It's not gonna change anything." He shrugged. Anger was already slowly boiling inside you and that was the last straw.

"Of course it fucking matters, Jensen! If you're cheating on me, the least you could do is to man up and tell the truth." You snapped poisonously, got up from the chair and turned around to leave the kitchen.

"Fuck me." He muttered quietly and called after you bit louder. "Okay. Yes, I cheated on you. There. Do you feel better now?" He asked, sarcasm in his voice unmissable.

You immediately felt sick to your stomach. You turned around to face him again. "Do I feel better? Are you serious?" You were truly astounded and didn't even know how to react to his confession. You couldn't stay there anymore. You walked out of the room and tears finally broke loose. Jensen got up from his chair to follow.

"No! Just leave me alone. Please. I can't do this right now. I'll get out of here and-" you let out a sharp breath "-go to, I don't know, to Elaine's or something. "

"Of course.." he whispered. "Y/N, come on. Don't act like you're without blame here. You-" You cut into his sentence.

"How could you even say that? What did I do for you to go and cheat on me?" You hissed back at him and entered your bedroom. Jensen followed and sat on the bed, as he stared after you walking into the closet and pulling out a suitcase. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Please. Come sit down." You ignored him and started to pack your clothes. "I'll get rest of my stuff next week." You sniffled. "When you're back at work or something."

You folded your clothes sloppily and refused to look at him when he joined you in there. This was not the weekend you had imagined when he said he'll be coming back home. You were excited to finally see him again and just be together and do nothing. You had missed your husband for a long time. Apparently, he did not miss you. You quickly wiped the tears away, when Jensen came to stand behind you and put his hands on your shoulders to turn you around. "Please, Y/N. I want to talk about this. To explain."

Trying to calm yourself down, you looked straight into his eyes. "Okay. Talk."

"No. Come sit down." He nodded to the bed. He tried to guide you towards the bed but you shrugged off his hand and sat down on the bed. Leaning against the headboard, you pulled your knees to your chest. Two of you sat there for few minutes before Jensen started talking. "I really don't know how else to say it. And I don't expect you to believe but I didn't mean to hurt you this way. I'm sorry." His voice was quiet.

"I'm sorry I was such an asshole before. You just caught me off guard and I didn't know how to react."

You still couldn't wrap your mind around it. What went wrong with the two of you? "You're right. I don't believe you. You do not sleep with someone by accident. I'd try to understand- "

"Y/N, I-" You raised one hand to stop him. "No, Jensen, let me talk please. I'd try to understand you if it was just about having kids. I'd try to somehow accept it. But cheating? This was something you chose to do. And this probably wasn't a one time thing either, right?" His silence gave you the answer to your question. You nodded knowingly. "That's what I thought. You did this over and over. While I waited for you at home. Alone. Do you really think your apology will make me feel better?" You took a deep breath, silent tears were rolling down your cheeks again. Last few months had been especially hard without him. Work had gotten crazy with your boss demanding more and more from you. Yes, you had your friends and sister you kept in contact with regularly, but still at nights you felt alone.

"Is that why you're leaving me? To move on with someone new?" You noticed Jensen tearing up. But still he didn't answer. "Jensen, please. Why can't you just tell me?" He said nothing so you got back up to finish packing. You didn't see the need to sit there and wait for him to answer. "Fine. You say you want to talk, but still won't talk to me, so I'll just go." You threw few more items from the closet into the suitcase and closed it up.

"Y/N, this is your home. You don't have to leave." He finally spoke up. "Well, I can't stay here either." You walked to the bathroom to pack some toiletries. This time Jensen didn't follow you. You closed the door and sat down on the floor. You felt a pressuring pain on the back of your head, but tried to think through it, to figure out your next steps. Of course you didn't want to actually leave, but staying in the house you and Jensen worked hard on to turn into home, would've been even harder. So you chose the easier of the two.

With a deep breath, you pulled out your phone and dialed your sister's number. She has always been very protective over you, so you knew, if you'd tell her about Jensen on the phone, she'd be over in a heartbeat to kick his ass. And he wasn't worth troubling her that much. "Hey, El. Are you busy this weekend?" You tried to sound cheerful, but you couldn't even convince yourself so she'd definitely see through it. "Hey! Not too busy. Why?" She sounded worried already. "I got an awesome idea, involving you, me, bottle of rosé and probably us passing out on your couch. How's that sound?"

She laughed at your proposal. "Definitely have time for that! What's up? Boy troubles?" You sighed and tried to compose yourself. "You could say that." She groaned loudly.

For some reason Jensen and Elaine always had some kind of beef between them. They managed to remain somewhat civil around you but when you were alone with either of them, they just couldn't hold back on straight on bitching about the other. Which was the main cause of your headaches for the past years and made the family gatherings rather uncomfortable. Well, two less things for you to worry about now.

"Do I have come over and kick his ass? Because you know I would." She said this jokingly, but you knew that there was some truth hidden there. "No! I'll be over soon. See you!"

"Oh, he really messed up this time, huh?" She asked and followed it up quickly. "Well, bring snacks then!" There was a short pause on the line. "And more wine. Maybe some cake? I'll do the counseling, I think I'll deserve some afterwards."

"Of course. Thank you. Alright, see you soon." You said quietly.

You ended the call and reality pulled you back in. Talking with Elaine always calmed you down. Made you forget your problems, even if just for a moment. You sighed deeply and got up to now actually pack up some necessities.

Few minutes later you stood at the bathroom door, staring at Jensen, sitting on the bed, head down in his hands. You wanted nothing more right now than to just get out of the house. But there was still one question that needed to be answered. You sat down next to him and took one of his hand into yours. "Please look at me." You turned his face gently towards you.

You wanted to stay mad at him.

Scream at him.

Punch him for hurting you this way.

But looking at him, you just couldn't. "It'd be probably better for me not to ask but I need to know this, Jensen. How long were you having the affair for, before you told me?" You looked into his eyes and waited for the band-aid to be ripped. But nothing could've prepared you for this.

"I'm really really sorry, Y/N. I realize that it doesn't have any worth to you anymore but still I hope you know that I am." He said turning his body towards you. You remained silent and waited for him to continue. "But I- it started just after New Years." You pulled away your hands. You knew you should've let it go. "So almost for a year you came home to me like nothing was wrong?" You asked shakily and let out a sharp breath. Your ears started ringing. He really is an amazing actor, you thought to yourself.

You didn't know whether to cry or be relieved that the truth was out. Now there was nothing holding you back from leaving. You stood up and so was up again the wall around you. The wall that took Jensen forever to break down in the first place. "Ahem, so, uh-" you had trouble finding the words. "I think I've heard what I needed to- you know..move on, I guess." A forced smile grew on your face that didn't reach your eyes. "You can send whatever the papers you need me to sign to my workplace." You took your things and walked out of the room.

Looking around in the living room, you realized how much you're actually going to miss this house. All the memories of the late night trips to the hardware stores during fixing up the house came back to you. You were definitely more of a distraction than help for Jensen at that time. But the arguments over the tone of the flooring and style of the kitchen cabinets resulted usually in hot make up sex in the shower. Which you felt was really your only purpose of picking those fights with him. These memories brought a sad smile onto your lips. Now you refused to call this home, because your home was Jensen. And you didn't have him anymore.

"Are you sure you're not staying here? I'm leaving in two days. You can have the house." He had followed you so quietly, you almost didn't notice him standing behind you.

"No, the house is not what I want." You laughed unhumorously and turned around to face him. Jensen pulled you into a tight hug and just held you close. And you let him do just that.

Everything still seemed as you were in a bad dream. All you wished right now was to wake up. But there was nothing to wake up from. As the realization dawned on you, you almost broke down again. Pushing your face into his chest, you desperately tried to hold yourself together. Leaving him is be the hardest thing you've had to do.

Focus, Y/N, you can cry when you're out of here, you tried to talk yourself down. Put on a brave face in front him, so he wouldn't see how broken you actually are.

"I'm sorry." He whispered and kissed the top of your head.

You took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too." After giving him a last hug, you pulled away from him. "I want to hate you right now, Jensen. So much." You laughed lightly through your words. "But I don't think I'll be able to, not before I stop loving you." He gave you a sympathetic look, and you saw that he was hurting too. You stroked his cheek gently. "And I will always love you." You stood up on your toes and pressed a kiss on his lips for the last time. With a heavy sigh you turned away to grab your purse, coat and car keys. "I want the best for you. Truly." You said standing on the door. With a one last look at him, you smiled and stepped out of the house.

Before going to Elaine's, you did a quick stop at a grocery store. Today you felt like not giving a damn, you will get drunk with your sister this afternoon. You picked up more wine and sweet and savory snacks, cake and some fruit. Definitely too much food for the two of you.

"Someone's having a party, huh?" Cashier asked you with a smile on her face.

"Oh, yeah, mhmm, big party tonight."

After packing up your groceries, you dialed El's number again.

"Hey, just got out of store. Be there in 10."

"Alrighty, should I find some glasses for us?" What a dumb question.

"Don't ask stupid questions and come outside to help me with things."

Little while later, two of you were sitting on the couch. "So. Talk to me, Y/N." She snuggled in closer to you. You swirled wine around in the glass and stared into nothing. "Jensen and I are divorcing." You didn't want to look at her and she waited silently for you to continue. "But hey- it's a well known fact that half of marriages end in divorce so-" You tried to lighten your mood but failed miserably at that. "I guess we were just on the wrong side of that equation."

She took the wine glass from you and put both on the table.

"Come here, sweetie." She pulled you into tight embrace as both of you laid on the couch. "I know that's yet another stupid question from me but how are you feeling? Honest answers only."

"Hurt. Disappointed. Sad. I just want to be angry with him, but I can't." You sat up. "He- he found someone new, you know? Well.. He didn't exactly say that but I guess so." Elaine huffed angrily. "He cheated on you?" You nodded silently and topped up your glasses. You could only imagine what was going through her head in that moment. Certainly she'd want to say "I told you so". You waited for any kind of reaction from her, so you sat there in a silence for a while, until she spoke again. "That lying piece of sh-" You interrupted your sisters swearing. "Stop. No, he's really not that." You said smiling sorrowfully.

"Why are you so calm about this? I'd be livid right now. Hell, I am! He betrayed you."

"If he feels like he's happier with someone other than me, then I won't stand in his way." You said quietly. "It hurts like hell, but I won't be some petty ass bitch to him because of that. I just don't have it in me." She laughed at you. "Yeah, you don't. I'd probably be keying his car right now."

You sighed, feeling the light buzz from the wine starting to take over you. "I thought getting drunk with you would make me feel better but what I really want right now, is to sleep. For a week at least. I just can't think of anything else right now."

She got up from the couch, reaching her hand out to you. "Come."

"What? Where?" Your brows furrowed in confusion, but nonetheless you got up.

"You want to sleep, so let's go to sleep." Elaine said so matter-of-factly.

"But didn't you have any plans today?" She pulled you into a tight hug. "Yeah, I did, but you are more important."

Read part 2 here!

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#jacklesversebingo23 #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen x y/n #angst #fluffy #fluff #hurt/comfort #jensen ackles #spn cast #supernatural cast

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wooahaes · 5 months

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delayed flight

pairing: non-idol!dino x gn!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship.

word count: ~0.8k

warnings: travel stress.

daisy's notes: i miss flying :(

“They were out of the coffee you like, so I just got us two cups of tea…”

You’d been curled up by your bags when Chan found you, sleepily watching the other planes come in. The one thing you hated most about flying was when this happened: you (and Chan) were stranded while waiting for a delayed flight to come in. It wasn’t delayed enough that you’d be stuck overnight (so far), but you were just ready to get back to your apartment. His gaze softened when he saw you, and he made his way over, settling into the seat next to yours. His fingers brushed against your own when he passed you your cup, Chan’s lips pressing against your temple for a moment.

“I know this sucks,” he said, “but you can take a nap if you need to. I can watch our carry-on stuff.”

You shook your head, leaning against him. “I’ll sleep on the plane. I just keep watching the planes come in and hoping that maybe one of them will end up being ours.”

“It’ll be here soon,” he wrapped an arm around you. “It’ll be okay.”

Chan was good at grounding you in moments like this. You were the kind of the traveler that would get badly stressed over things like delays or lost luggage or anything that went wrong—at least when it came to planes. Anything else you could handle better, but planes? Something about them managed to make you far more anxious than taking the train. At least with trains, once you were in your seat and your tickets were scanned, you were done. You could rest your head on Chan’s shoulder and sleep for a bit. Planes were less predictable until you were actually on them.

“It’s not so bad,” Chan said, voice soft enough that your conversation would be kept to yourselves. “I mean… This trip was nice, right?”

The ring on his finger gave away what he meant. He’d made you promise to let him buy you one that matched once you were back home. “It was great,” you said. “Just hate the ‘going back’ part.”

“Well…” He leaned against you further. “We can celebrate once we get back. You know Seungkwan’s going to lose it when he sees the ring, right?”

It earned a quiet snort from you. “Vernon said he was betting that you’d propose first, so…”

“Exactly,” Chan planted a chaste kiss against your neck, smiling against your skin. “I thought I was going to, actually. I hate that I didn’t buy a ring before now, but…”

“I had to put a note in my carry-on to not tell you, you know,” you said. “I’m glad you ran off to get us good seats when we were leaving. The lady checking luggage winked at me when she saw me getting my things.”

Chan let out a blissful sigh. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming.”

“Neither can I,” you said with a soft laugh. “I mean… I felt like I was being pretty obvious. I’m just glad your family didn’t let anything slip before we left—”

“They knew?!” Chan jerked forward, turning to face you. “When did you—”

“Like… weeks ago,” you said with a shrug. “Remember when I told you I had a work trip that one weekend…?’

Chan blinked at you. “Wait, so… that was a lie? You went and saw my parents instead?”

Your face felt as though it was burning with embarrassment now: you weren’t going to tell him any of this until you were home. “I asked your mom if I could stop by while I was in the area. I was still there for work, just… I wasn’t honest with where the trip was.”

“Oh.” Chan’s face was rosy, and he relaxed against you again. “Okay. We should still go see them when we get back. You know… Share the good news.”

“We will, baby,” you giggled, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek. “I think we should tell half your friends you said no, and the other half that you said yes, just to see what they do. You’d have to tell Jeonghan we’re doing it, though, so he’ll play along.”

It earned another soft chuckle from him as he settled in, head resting on your shoulder. “We’ll talk about it on the plane.”

You turned your face so you could press a kiss onto the top of his head. “I’ll workshop the idea, then,” you said. “I love you, you know? Maybe we’re kinda young, but… I think you’re it for me.”

“Think?” His hand found yours, fingers intertwining. “I know.”

You smiled to yourself, taking a long sip of your tea. Maybe traveling wouldn’t be so bad whenever you had Chan there beside you.

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#wooahaes.dec23 #wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #dino x you #dino x reader #dino fluff #dino imagines #lee chan x reader #lee chan x you #lee chan fluff #lee chan imagines

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just-a-sleepy-idiot · 4 months

Text

Jackson Rippner Imagine: Deciding to be gentle with you

So I‘m not even through the movie right now but oh my godsss I need to write for him. I made this gif because I didn't find one that show's the way he observes her in that moment

Content/Warnings: Gender neutral Reader, Anxious & Innocent Reader, Degrading yet soft Jackson, Height difference, Slightly implied eating problems mentioned, People pleasing Reader also

It had been so easy to follow you, the airport was so crowded that you wouldn’t notice it even if he had been going about it more obvious. He got in line behind you for the same flight, the storm was delaying the departure by an uncertain amount of time.

It was easy to follow you but hard to keep an eye on you if you had managed to get out of sight because you were rather short. Especially now that he stood behind you he became aware of how big the height difference between you two was. Despite that, you didn’t hesitate to call out a rude man that was complaining to the staff for something she wasn’t responsible for.

His eyes locked on you for a moment, observing you. You shouldn’t be getting yourself involved, the way you were still way too nice about pointing out his bad behavior was proof of it. He would have rolled his eyes at you if it wasn't for the man who now started talking back at you just as rude as he had been addressing the airport staff. Jackson intervened.

„She's exhausted, she's worked for 18 hours, and she suspects that we all hate her just as much as you do.“ The man was about to turn away but he grabbed his arm, forcing him to look him back in the eye without stopping to speak,

„So why you don't just give her a break? Let her go back to her job which I'm guessing is a lot more thankless than yours.“ His disgruntled expression suggested another complaint, if it wasn’t for the cold stare that stopped him from speaking the words he had in mind. The Guy looked from you to him again and then just walked away muttering something about the airline.

You looked back to send a smile his way, surprisingly shy for someone who was talking up against a stranger before. Then you quickly turned away again, seemingly not knowing if you should be saying something to him and he narrowed his brows in amusement. Where did that confidence go when you needed it for yourself?

You checked in, moving away from people wanting to pass by. They could have moved past you easily, yet you still tried to make yourself smaller than you already were. His eyes followed you as you walked away from the check in desk before he went in to check in himself.

He found it easy to put on a smile when he talked to people, especially if it was for the sake of getting in contact with his targets. But it never really changed anything about the intensity and cold that his gaze carried. A smile was just a way to distract people from the way he looked at them. Jackson went to the Gate. The flight wouldn't board any time soon, the artifical light inside seemed to be extra bright in contrast to the darkened landing site you could see through the glass walls. The sky was crowded with clouds that were heavy from the rain. It was pouring continuously for the past few hours already. When Jackson turned around to check on your location he caught you looking outside as well from a bit farther away. You seemed mesmerized by the view rather than angry that it was the reason you wouldn't be at your destination anytime soon.

It was getting cold in the gate as well, you went to a small coffeeshop to get yourself something. He was browsing through some newspapers nearby while you were looking over the foods for quite some time. What was taking you so long? He thought to himself, growing a bit annoyed by how long you were needing to choose something to eat. You seemed to like all of them, but ended up just getting a coffee. His brows quirked up slightly, slowly moving away from the newspaper stand.

That's when some guy nearly ran you over, bumping into you so harshly that coffee was spilled all over your clothes and fingers. The cup fell to the ground with a light thud but the man just send a quick 'Sorry' your way without stopping once to look at you. Jacksons eyes widened without ever changing his neutral expression. Nobody paid attention to it, your soft features distorted in pain with the way the coffee burned your skin. You crouched down to pick the cup with a saddened expression. It was such a pathetic sight. His jaw clenched, sighing without breaking eye contact as he approached you. Jackson put on an endearing smile and retrieved some tissues from the inside of his jacket and handed one to you. You spotted his shoes and lifted up your gaze to look at him.

His lips twitched further into a smile when he saw that you had tears in your eyes. The way you looked up to him from the ground made his gaze soften up, it was almost exhilarating. He couldn't wait to see the face you would make once he revealed that they had taken your father hostage. You rose to your feet, taking the tissue he handed to you. "Thank you.." He gave you a slight nod, "Here, let me take this." He took the empty cup from you and put it in the trash.

Your hands were still shaky when you tried cleaning them with the tissue, Jackson paused. Your reactions had a fragility to them that would unfold so beautifully as soon as he let you in on your situation. He looked forward to having you cornered in the plane with him, submitting to their demands in order to ensure your fathers safety. Jackson inhaled softly, normally he didn't have anywhere as much fun with a target.. but somehow you pulled at his sadistic strings. You just were so wreckable.

And he honestly didn't know why, but he held out his hand to you since you were visibly struggling to take care of this mess yourself in that moment. "May I?" he offered lowering his head a bit to look more disarming. You blinked and slowly handed him the tissue again. He carefully placed his hand underneath yours as not to frighten you from the touch and started to clean the rest off your tender skin. You winced a bit when he went a bit too rough for a second but didn't remove your hand from him. He didn't pause while glancing up at you, something that was in between condescending and soft. How obedient.

You didn't know why you let him do this, it was kinda embarrassing. And yet you could blink away the tears in your eyes by the way he cared for you in that moment. "What a jerk." He commented and shook his head as he finished up. "I'm Jackson by the way." He introduced himself and you smiled a little, "Thank you Jackson. I'm Y/n." Your smile had a genuine warmth to it that contrasted with the storm outside. Even though you were tired you had a comforting glow in your eyes, something that promised him your full attention.

"Do people call you Jack?" You asked now and he shook his head, "No.. not since I was ten years old I think. My last name is Rippner." You hummed curiously, "Jack.. the, ah" He nodded with a crooked smile when you put the pieces together. It's been a while since someone noticed that. "There you go, yes." "Ah well.. that wasn't very nice of your parents then." He huffed, "Yes, well that is what I said to them before I murdered them." He joked, and he honestly didn't expect or care that you wouldn't find that very funny. He just had a morbid side to him that he didn't care to fully contain unless it endangered his mission. If so he could pretend to be very kind. But to his surprise you laughed, and not in the way that people laughed out of habit as to not upset others. You really cracked up a little at that joke. He tilted his head a bit to the side. For someone with an innocent face like yours you had a weird sense of humour.

"Well um.. I'm gonna get changed." You gestured at your coffee stained shirt and he nodded, looking around for the nearest bathroom. "Ah, right over there." You thanked him and excused yourself. He watched you go for a moment, his eyes remaining curious while his smile dropped.

In the bathroom you got out a new shirt from your bag and quickly changed into it. You slightly adjusted your hair, turned your head a bit in the mirror. You caught yourself wondering if you had looked good just now, if he had only taken pity with a stranger or if he might have even liked what he saw when he had looked at you with those strangely cold blue eyes. You blushed a bit and blinked, quickly looking down to wash your hands with cold water to cool the burn a bit.

When you were finished up you left the bathroom and instinctively looked around to see where he was. Jackson sat in the waiting area along the other passengers and read through a Newspaper.

He registered someone standing in front of him and looked up to see you again, this time wearing another shirt. "This looks better on you. It's cuter than the baggy one." He commented and looked up from your shirt to meet your eyes.

That's when you handed him a cup of coffee, you got yourself another one as well. He turned his head a little to the side, a bit perplex for a second as he took the coffee from your outreached hand. That was certainly.. unexpected. "Thank you for your help before." You said and stepped back, ready to leave him alone-

"Y/n." He commanded your attention and you halted instantly, looking at him again. He raised his brows somewhat enjoying how you were so responsive. Jackson cleared the space next to him and gestured you to take a seat. "Sit with me." Normally he would suggest it politely- but his curiosity took over and he wanted to see what you would do if he phrased it like a order. His lips were slightly agape in a smile, his brows raised mischievously.

You set down your bag, keeping eye contact with him like a cautious deer undecided on wether to run or stay. You sat down carefully and put your hands on your lap so you wouldn’t intrude into his personal space. It was so cute, he could hardly contain the increasing desire to mess you up with all those tender reactions you were having. He almost wished he could hear that soft gasp again, the sound you must have made when the coffee burned your little hands.

His eyes followed you when you sat down, his lips settled into a small smile and his gaze lingered on you for a moment- only leaving you when he led the cup to his mouth to take a sip of coffee.

„Are you always this well behaved?“

You looked at him, about to ask what he meant when he faked a smile and added innocently, „Trying not to complain even though the man was at fault back then?“

The last part wasn’t why he had asked it, he just wanted to tease you with what he said first. And the widened eyes and slightly agape lips when you were confused about the intent of his question was definitely worth it. He might have even spotted something nearing a blush on your face..

„I don’t want to cause a stir because of an accident. It would be mean to call him out for something that wasn't really his fault. “ You admitted with surprising honesty, Jackson hummed.

„But it was his fault, and intentions are absolutely irrelevant." Jacksons eyes ran somewhat cold now when he said that just now. "He ran you over, spilled coffee you spend money on and caused you to get injured." "But.." you tried to vouch for the stranger, Jackson shook his head, silencing you right away. He frowned at you. "No But. Those are the only facts you know about him and he didn't stay to prove any of what you imagine him to think and be."

He took another sip of his coffee while you were still quiet. "There's no good reason why you should be considerate in advance when someone is just an ass." He said with a raised brow.

You blinked at him, almost like he would image a Bunny to look at him. Your head tilted just a bit while your shoulders were slightly raised, Jackson couldn't quite decipher why you were looking at him like this now. Almost curious.

While the way Jackson just said those things came across as quite cold you could't help but.. be flustered in a way. He was probably just frustrated by your lack of boundaries, but it was almost like he cared about the way you were letting yourself be treated sometimes.

You shot him a smile and chuckled lightly, the tension in his features softened the slightest bit by surprise over this reaction. You took his morbid joke, his rougher tone both surprisingly lightly and reacted so gently to all the circumstances around you may it be the storm outside or something like that.

He pressed his lips together a little bit, eventually breaking eye contact and looking outside. It was still raining, but now there were actually some planes on the move out on the field.

A muffled announcement rang through the section, letting all of you know that your flight would start boarding in a few minutes. Cheering went through the exhausted crowds around you and you also clapped along with some others.

Jacksons jaw clenched. It would soon begin then. He shot you a glance, tapping his fingers on the cup before standing up and throwing it away.

He longed to see those teary eyes again, fixating on him in an instant because he demanded your attention. He wanted to hear you stutter and sniffle, maybe beg him too. But Jackson didn't find the thought appealing anymore to be getting all of that simply by blackmailing you once you were trapped on the plane with him. It felt boring and it felt tasteless too all of sudden.

He wanted to indulge in all those reactions, but not like this. Surely he would find a way to have this treat outside of his mission.

He would find a way to get this done without spoiling the fun he's been having once on the plane.. this time he might try to be gentle.

I hoped you liked this! If you did please comment or send an ask to let me know 🤎

#jackson rippner x reader #red eye 2005 #jackson rippner #gender neutral reader

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bubblepopsims · 2 months

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previous- next Noah and Josiah spice

Script under the cut

[Josiah: “*groans* We need to get up..”] [Noah: “No. I am drawing the curtains. We only slept for 4 hours.. maybe. Who fucking meets at 9am?”] 2.0 [Josiah: “*chuckles* A very very anxious sister and bestfriend.”] [Noah: “Well.. *chuckles before sighing heavily* That’s cute and all.. but after our flight being delayed Mulitple times yesterday. Might I add.”] 2.1 [Noah: “I am allowed to be grumpy.”] [Josiah chuckles and crawls his way out of bed: “okay little grumpypants.”] [Noah: “Hey, where are you going?”] 2.3 [Josiah’s thoughts: “Oh look at him!] [Noah: “If it’s coffee, I want some.Please”] [Josiah’s thoughts: “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HE IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!! FUCK ME UP!”] [Josiah: “mhmm…”] 2.4 [Josiah: “You know what? It can wait.”] 2.5 [Noah: “*chuckles* oh yeah? Once again it seems like everything is going against me. First I had to get up early, and now I am being denied coffee.. how is this benefiting me exactly?”] 2.6 [Josiah: “I’m going to show you.”] 3 [Juju: “Why did you stop it?? We were getting to the good part!”] [Izzi: “Baby, by all means watch it in your free time.. But I cant see Josiah doing anything remotely filthy *laughs* fuck god. Him even just being sexy… No.”] 4 [Izzi: That fucker is truly a brother to me. I am all for him getting it on and being in love.. but I am okay..”] [Juju: “Well. I’m curious so ill be poking and you will probably too just because you cant help yourself from not knowing.”] [Izzi: “Fuck you*laughs* Valid. Alright we can watch it later.”] Ruby and Tobias portion [Juju: “I cant..”] [Izzi: “What?”] [Juju: “WHAT do you mean WHAT?? She is not real dude.. she is squatting…. What is that like..80 pound weights plus bar..i cant read what it says on the weight for shit..”] [Izzi: “To my surprise of not being surprised… the weights says 20…yeah 40 each, plus bar.. squatting atleast over 100 including the bread that baking.. Tobias calls it a bun. *Laughs*”] [Juju: “I want ti see tis woman in the ring… Fuck WHY couldn’t you guys just sucked it the fuck up nd TALKED sooner?!?!?!!?!?!? We could have seen her DESTROOOOYYYYY!”] [Izzi: “*Laughs* don’t worry. We will see her one day.”] 1 [Ruby: “You know I find you sexy when you are annoyed with me.. you always get this “I am debating on what I am going to do with you” look in your eyes..”] [Tobias: “I am very annoyed that this little thing that you are doing right now is Turning me on, making me forget that I am annoyed at the fact you are still working your body lie you are not fucking pregnant.”] 2 [Ruby: “Tobias, did you really think I was going to stop? The Doctor has yet to tell me to stop.. Soooo until that day comes, I the future fucking Mother of your dorky cute buns will be making sure that the buns are incubated in a unbreachable stronghold which is me.”] [Tobias: “Mmmm..Unbreachable? You sure about that? Mind if I take a chance at it?”] 3 [Juju: “*chuckles* Pervert. But if you must know.. Ruby totally blue balled him.”] [Izzi: “unapologetically at best.”]

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 #the tribe #ts4 story #my sims #oc: Josiah #oc: Noah Fl0pera #oc: Izzi #oc: Juju #oc: Tobias #oc: ruby #The recap leading up to the wedding

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romione-trope-fest · 2 months

Text

Rouge Chapter 1: Queen-Sized Beds.

By hinnycanons

Trope: Only One Bed

Brief Summary: During a trip to Switzerland that Hermione Granger had planned thoroughly was going downward. Especially when she has to share a bed with her long-time crush, Ron Weasley.

Word Count: 2562

Rating: 13+

***

This trip couldn’t get any worse. Hermione had come on this trip with her friends and it was turning into a disaster. All of them had already booked their rooms and Hermione was the only one who hadn’t.

She was power walking, dragging her suitcase along the floor, trying her best to make it to the counter as quickly as she possibly could.

They were in Zurich, Switzerland, a place that they had wanted to go to for months and had been planning for as long. They had booked the tickets the moment they got the chance, but on different flights and Hermione had unfortunately been on a delayed one.

With Ron.

Once they found out that the train ride took ten hours, going on a plane was a no-brainer. Of course, some of them had never been on planes because they were used to Portkeys. Hermione had to repeatedly tell Ron that it was safe, but he was anxious the whole ride.

So now, they were both sprinting to the counter in Hotel Schweizerhof, in the hopes of finding a room with two queen-sized beds.

“Hermione don’t you think you should slow down a bit?” Ron said in a concerned tone.

“Nope,” she replied as she kept walking faster. “We’re already behind, I’m not wasting any more time.”

Once they reached the counter, they were completely out of breath, but there was no one sitting at the desk.

“Ugh, where are they?” Hermione groaned. She looked around but didn’t see a worker in sight.

“Just relax, we’re here now. Everyone’s still in their rooms,” Ron muttered to her. He always tried to calm her when she was in a spiral. His calming voice sounded in her ears and she tried to pay attention to it.

She sighed. “I know. We just need to get a room and then we’ll meet everyone there.”

Finally, a woman came up to the desk and seemed panicked. “So sorry about that, there was a problem on the third floor.”

Hermione, being more calm than before, smiled kindly at her. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“We’re looking for two rooms. Or one room with two beds,” Ron told her. The woman then began doing something on the computer.

“Okay, we’re good, it’s all gonna be okay,” Hermione mumbled to herself and Ron smiled at her.

“So, all the other rooms are booked, and we only have one room,” the woman stated.

Hermione’s calm instantly went away. “Is there at least two beds?”

“I’m afraid there’s only one bed.”

That’s exactly what she didn’t want to hear. She didn’t want to share a bed with Ron, it was going to be awkward!

While Ron and Hermione had been friends for years and spent all their time in Hogwarts together, Hermione began seeing Ron in a new light by the time they graduated. She started to be eager to talk to him, be near him, and generally just see him. It was a big crush.

Ron also seemed to be surprised by this as he stared at the counter. Hermione feared he was disappointed at the aspect of sharing a bed with her. That made her feel worse.

“Will that be okay?” The woman’s voice broke Hermione out of her reverie.

“Um…” she looked at Ron to see if he had anything to say. She hoped he did.

“I- I think it’ll be okay,” he said slowly. Hermione nodded once at him turning back to the woman and tried to smile.

“We’ll take the room.”

She gave Ron and Hermione their room card and they were off. They walked in silence to the elevator, neither of them knowing what to say.

Once the elevator doors closed and Hermione clicked the button to take them to the seventh floor, Ron spoke up.

“I’m…sorry. I hope you’re not upset.”

She looked at him quickly. “No, no. I’m not upset, it’s fine.” She was just relieved Ron wasn’t upset.

“If you want I can sleep on the floor,” he suggested.

“No, it’s okay, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable,” she replied honestly. As much as she would never say it out loud, the thought of sleeping in the same bed as him was thrilling. A few years ago, she would’ve hated it because of their bickering and how messy he was, but now there was a completely new reason.

There was a ding and the elevator doors opened, allowing Ron and Hermione to step out and find their room.

“The room number is 303,” Hermione told him, looking down at the card.

They found the room easily and Hermione used to card to unlock it. Ron’s eyes widened. “How’d you open it with that?” Ron pointed at the card.

“Muggle technology,” Hermione answered, turning the knob. “It senses the card.”

“That’s bloody brilliant.” Hermione laughed at his expression as they both went inside. As said, there was a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room that was neatly made with white, clean sheets. The curtain was open and light spilled into the room from the big window. You could see the city from it. Hermione opened a door that was the way to the bathroom. It was nicely decorated and everything was clean. She felt like she was in a dream.

“This is the best! I’m so glad we were able to find such a good hotel!” She put her suitcase against the wall as Ron sat down on the bed.

“And the bed is super comfortable.” He then dramatically sighed. “Sucks that I have to share it with someone.”

Hermione knew he was trying to lighten the mood and she rolled her eyes, smiling. “I’m not exactly happy about sharing either.” She plopped down on the bed and found it was comfortable. She could stay here forever.

“Harry and Ginny’s room number is 310, they’re on the same floor. Should we go?”

They left their stuff in the hotel room and walked down the corridor to Harry and Ginny’s room. It was very quiet and Hermione could only hear talking in the distance.

“Why does this corridor look so scary?” Ron whispered.

Hermione sighed. “I never should’ve shown you all those Muggle horror movies.”

They stopped outside of room 310 and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, Ginny appeared in the doorway with a smile. “Finally, you’re here!”

She stepped out of the way to let them enter and Hermione noticed that their room looked the same as hers and Ron’s. They also had one queen-sized bed with a big window, letting all the light in.

“Hey, guys!” Harry said. He was sitting on one of the sofas. “How was the flight?”

“It was so cool! I was calm the entire time!”

“You are a terrible liar, Ron,” Ginny chuckled and Harry and Hermione laughed.

“Ginny, do you have the list of places that we were gonna visit?” Hermione asked. She had spent hours researching sights to see and made a neat, but long list.

“Yeah, I’ll get it,” Ginny said before going to her bag.

“You made a list?” Ron questioned. Hermione nodded as she took the paper from Ginny’s hand.

“Hmm…” Hermione furrowed her brows as she scanned the list carefully. “Maybe we should check out one of these dinner places first.”

“Oh, that’s sound nice!” Harry exclaimed.

“Okay, let’s go!” Ginny got off her bed.

“Harry’s paying!” Ron shouted as they left the room and Harry scowled at him.

The restaurant was much fancier than they all thought. Everyone was dressed in dresses or suits and a man was playing the piano in the corner.

“Bloody hell, this is a place for the rich,” Ron muttered in Hermione’s ear. Her heart skipped a beat at the sudden proximity. She looked up at him and made the mistake of looking right into his eyes. She blinked as she tried to think of a response.

She smiled at him. “Thank Merlin you’re making Harry pay then.” Ron snorted at her comment.

“Do you guys have a reservation?” A waiter came to ask them.

“No, we don’t,” Ginny answered.

“Well, unfortunately, all our tables are full and there may be a wait.”

Great, Hermione thought, sighing. She turned to everyone else and then back at the waiter. “How long will the wait be?”

“About an hour and a half.”

She looked back at everyone else. “Are you all okay with waiting?”

After a few seconds of considering, they nodded. “Yeah, we’ll just come back,” Harry replied.

They left the restaurant and decided to talk around a bit.

“An hour and a half wait for a table!” Ginny stressed. “We don’t even know if it’s worth it or not!”

“I mean, given the amount of people in it, it should be,” Harry reasoned, putting an arm around Ginny’s shoulder, and she leaned into him.

They walked around the plaza for a bit, walking into shops, and enjoying the warm, summer air.

“Did you and Ron manage to get rooms on the same floor?” Harry asked.

Hermione tried not to blush. “Y- yeah. We did. But we had to share a room,” she answered, not looking at him. She didn’t want them knowing they had to not only share a room but also a bed. Ron didn’t say anything and pretended to look very interested on the sidewalk.

“But they said that there were only rooms with one bed?” Ginny asked, looking confused. After a few seconds of silence from Ron and Hermione, Ginny gasped. “You have to share a bed!”

Harry scoffed. “That’s brilliant.” Ron glared at him. Harry turned to Hermione, ignoring Ron’s stare. “Good luck with that, he’s the messiest.”

Ginny let go of Harry and linked her arm with Hermione’s and they started walking, Ron and Harry behind them.

“So, how are you feeling about sharing a bed with him?” Ginny knew all about Hermione’s crush on Ron.

Hermione tried to answer. “Well…It’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Really?” Ginny raised her eyebrows at her, not convinced. “I’ve read those Muggle books and in these situations, something good always happens.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Nothing is going to happen between us.” She felt a pang in her chest as she talked.

“You don’t know that,” she grinned.

Once they got back to the restaurant, there was a table ready for them and they were all relieved.

It was officially midnight and they decided to turn in because they had a lot of things they wanted to do tomorrow. While Ron was tired, he was nervous at the aspect of sharing a bed with Hermione. The woman that he’s had a crush on for as long as he could remember.

They got into their room, and Hermione went into the bathroom to change. Ron looked out the window, taking in the scenery. He sighed just as Hermione exited the washroom.

“You okay?” She asked as she sat down on the bed.

Ron turned to look at her. “Yeah, just watching the view.”

Hermione got out a book she brought with her and began to read it. Ron smiled at her, being reminded of when they were young in Hogwarts. She had that same concentrated look on her face.

Ron ended up sitting beside her, reading the book with her. However, he wasn’t entirely focused on it, his gaze flickering to Hermione once in a while. It was hard to take his eyes off her.

He leaned in closer to her, not aware he was doing. He felt Hermione tense up beside him. She suddenly cleared her throat. “Are you actually reading it or…?” Hermione asked, not taking her eyes off the book.

Ron chuckled. “Sort of.”

Hermione sighed. “I think you could probably relate to the main character, actually.”

Ron tilted his head. “Why is that?”

Hermione smirked, turning the page. “It’s about a boy who attends Hogwarts with big ambitions and dreams, but he has a special power no one knows about.”

Ron was still confused. “How does that relate to me?”

She grinned at him. “His best friend is an intelligent girl who’s always at the top of her class. They bicker a lot.”

Ron laughed. “Oh, I see it now. That might be us.” He noticed the way that Hermione’s cheeks reddened and he felt pleased with himself.

They ended up staying up later than they thought, and Hermione hastily put her book away at seeing the time.

“We’re going to meet Harry and Ginny early tomorrow in the lobby. We’re going to see some landmarks,” Hermione got into the covers as Ron nodded along to what she was saying.

Ron almost got off the bed to go to his bed, but then remembered that they were sharing and he got nervous. He got off the bed to go turn off the lights and he came back to see Hermione was already lying down.

When he lay down beside her they were face to face and Ron’s breath hitched when he looked at her. She was even more beautiful up close.

He resisted the urge to brush her bushy hair out of her face. Hermione broke the silence. “This isn’t…uncomfortable, is it?” She whispered.

Ron slowly shook his head. “Of course not. Is it for you?”

Hermione smiled slightly. “Of course not.” He caught the way her eyes glanced at his lips for just a second.

“Well,” he gulped under her gaze. “Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Ron,” and she closed her eyes, not turning to the other side.

Ron wishes he could hold her and kiss her to sleep. The thought was intense and Ron didn’t know how he would fall asleep. But looking at her peaceful state made him feel more relaxed and he fell asleep, feeling comfortable beside her.

Bright light streamed through the window of the hotel which caused Hermione to wake up. She groaned and squinted as the light hit her eyes and she tried to get up.

Except she was being held down by something.

She looked down and saw that she was not lying on her pillow. She lying on Ron’s chest. She noticed that his arm was around her, holding her to him securely.

Ron was still deep asleep and Hermione didn’t know how she was going to get up.

Strikingly, she found that she was too comfortable to get up. It felt nice to be so close to him and she smiled, despite her slight alarm before. She decided that it was not a big deal and she could stay snuggled against for a while more.

Ron stirred and put his other arm around her and Hermione had to resist the urge to giggle. She looked up at his face. She thought he was cute when he was sleeping. She brushed his hair out of his eyes before she knew what she was doing.

Ron let out a contented sigh. “Hermione,” he mumbled and she stilled, thinking he had woken up. But then the sound of his soft breathing filled the room. Hermione found it endearing how he said her name and knew that it would be etched in her mind forever.

As she glanced at his still-sleeping form, she realized that what she thought was a crush was love. She loved Ron. More than he probably loved her

#submission

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tkwrites · 8 months

Text

Love, even in the hard parts. - Quinn Hughes x ofc

photo from pinterest

Title: Love, even in the hard parts.

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Original female character

Warnings: grief, mentions of a dead mother, lots of crying, hospitals

Summary: When his mom can't make it to take Quinn to surgery, Sarah steps in inspite of her hatred of hospitals.

Word count: 2500

Comments: This was very much written for myself. As someone who lost both of her parents young, it's often a struggle to find people to relate to about it. A struggle to find people who look for and see pain in others the way I have learned to see it after experiencing it so deeply. I wrote this on a day when I was really missing my mom, and wishing I had another mother figure in my life to give me a warm embrace, or a romantic partner to comfort me through the pain. It's a bit unrealistic to expect someone to fulfill needs without being asked, but that's why it's a fantasy.

These are the same characters as before, but there's not really a timeline. These are just snapshots from their life together.

Love, Even in the Hard Parts

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Sarah hated hospitals. Ever since waiting in one, just to learn her mom couldn’t be saved, she felt anxious and on the verge of tears anytime she was in one.

Ellen was supposed to be here to take Quinn to and from surgery, but her flight had been delayed, so Sarah had stepped in. First, only to drop him off, but upon another text from Ellen, to stay and wait for him to wake.

Quinn had assured her he could ask a teammate to pick him up, but she didn’t want him to be with someone he didn’t know well. Petey had already gone back to Sweden.

She’d had her tonsils removed. It had been more than 10 years, but she still remembered waking up and feeling like she’d swallowed a sandbox. She wouldn’t want to be with anyone but someone she trusted completely.

She had headphones on, and was listening to a romance novel, trying to distract herself from the smell. She’d even rubbed peppermint oil under her nose to try to mask it. Both the oil and the novel were helping, but her heart still thundered in her chest and tears stung behind her eyes, threatening to spill out.

She’d missed the window to walk outside. Now she was too close to him waking up to leave.

When Rose, the motherly looking nurse who had taken Quinn back for surgery, tapped her gently on the shoulder, Sarah jolted. Fear rocketed to her fingertips, making them tingle with misplaced energy.

She smiled kindly, “I'm sorry, hon. He’s just waking up now if you want to come back.”

Slipping her headphones around her neck, Sarah coached herself into standing and followed the nurse into the hallway.

They were in the VIP section, and it looked almost homey. It was still a hospital, and still smelled too sterile and disinfected, but at least it wasn’t 70 different colors of beige and green.

“Here you go,” Rose held the door open for Sarah to step through. She’d been so caught in her own thoughts she didn’t think she could find her way back to the waiting room if she tried.

“Quinn,” Rose said gently, “your wife is here.”

“Girlfriend,” Sarah corrected automatically as she sat in the chair next to the bed.

He gave her a lopsided, drunk smile. "You can be my wife for the day," he said, voice gravelly.

She could see in his face that he was going to be sick before he began to cough. She grabbed the basin off the table next to the bed and held it under his chin, helping him tip his head forward so he wouldn’t get any vomit on himself.

He winced as he settled back.

“I was just about to say,” Rose said, taking the basin from Rachel’s hands, “you’ll want to avoid talking for the next day or two. It can aggravate the gag reflex.”

She took the basin into the bathroom and came out with a fresh one. “It’s very normal to vomit quite a bit after a tonsillectomy,” she assured.

Sarah nodded, looking around the room. It was bigger than any she’d been in in the past. And far more private. Quinn had a beautiful view of the city through a large picture window opposite his bed. Everything was painted in warm, cozy colors. But it was still a hospital, and he still had an IV in his arm that she willed her eyes to skip over every time she looked at him.

His hand came to rest on hers, solid and comforting. When their eyes met, Quinn - even in his drugged up, addled state - could see the sadness and fear in her face. It bothered him that he couldn’t comfort her the way he wanted to.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. No gag came. He would just have to talk quietly.

She nodded, even though she clearly wasn’t. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged one shoulder up. “Thirsty.”

“Can he have some water?” Sarah asked, thankful to have something to do.

“Gulping can be quite hard, and he won’t be able to use a straw for a week or so, but I’ll get you some ice chips. Do you want them flavored, sweetheart?”

He shook his head.

Rose came back a few minutes later with a cup of soft, pellet ice.

Sarah helped him get it into his mouth, and he sighed when the cold liquid began trailing down his sore throat.

Thirty minutes later, Ellen came blustering into the hospital room, a suitcase wheeling behind her.

“I’m so sorry,” she told Sarah, gathering her into a hug.

Sarah shook her head, and pulled away before she could get too comfortable. An embrace like that would certainly bring her tears spilling over the surface.

“How is he?”

She pointed to the hospital bed, where Quinn was awake, but listlessly so. Sliding between resting and waking to let more ice melt in his mouth.

She didn’t trust herself to speak. There was a certain, intense jealousy that came over her any time she saw someone else’s mother come to support them. Even if she loved them, it was still hard to see and know she would never again get that same support from her own mom.

“Quinn? Quinn, I’m here.”

Hearing his mom's voice brought him out of another stupor.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, pushing his hair off of his forehead.

“Fine,” he whispered.

His eyes sought Sarah in the room. She had her back to them, her arms wrapped so tightly around herself, he could see a peek of her Canucks blue nail polish under each arm.

Ellen settled in the chair next to the bed. Through the rustle of her clothing, Quinn heard Sarah sniff.

“Mom?”

“What, honey?” she asked, smoothing his hair again, “what can I get you?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” he said, testing the limits of his voice. He had to pause and swallow. It hurt, like trying to swallow glass or a golf ball.

She offered him more ice.

He took the cup, but didn’t tip it to his mouth, “Mom, I can't right now, but Sarah really needs someone."

Ellen’s eyes shifted to look at her son's girlfriend, standing proud and contained, looking out the window.

As they watched, her hand swiped over her cheek. Even from there, they could see the sheen of liquid smeared over her fingers.

Ellen squeezed Quinn’s hand and walked over to her. It was just like Quinn, to see someone else's need and find a way to fill it even if he couldn't do it himself.

When the younger woman turned to look at her, fat tears were pooled in her eyes, and rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh, Sarah,” Ellen whispered, and gathered her into an embrace.

Sarah began to really cry then. She wasn’t loud, but her breath shook, and her gasps and cries were tiered, as if she were going up and down stairs.

Ellen held her and smoothed her hair, letting her cry into her shoulder in such a maternal way, Sarah felt both relieved and sad. Her own mother was never as thin as Ellen, but Ellen’s embrace was strong, keeping her grounded the way Sarah needed.

“I just miss her so much,” she whispered.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

A while later, she added, “I wish I could have met her.”

That brought on a fresh wave of tears that had Sarah crying louder.

Ellen hugged her tighter, palming the back of her head to keep her head on her shoulder. It had been so long since one of her boys had needed this kind of motherly comfort. This was dually the easiest and hardest part of motherhood. The ‘I’ll hold you while you cry and help you put the pieces back together’ kind of motherhood. At the same time, knowing you couldn’t fix all your child's hurts, or take away their pain.

It brought tears to Ellen's eyes to think that she could stand in for Sarah’s mom in this small way.

A few minutes later, Sarah pulled away, feeling more than a little embarrassed. She wiped at her eyes, and forced a bit of a laugh, “I’m sorry, thank you.”

Ellen took her by the shoulders, “Sarah, you don’t need to thank me, and you certainly don’t need to apologize.”

“I just,” Sarah met her gaze, “thank you. Being here has been really hard.”

“I know. Quinn told me,” she assured, her palm still traveling up and down her back in a soothing pattern. “Thank you for taking such good care of my baby while I was getting here.”

That night, after stopping at the store for ice cream and Popsicles, and watching the game, Quinn settled into bed while Sarah puttered around fussing over him.

“You're sure you don't need anything else?” she asked, finally stopping to look into his face.

He shook his head. “I need you to come to bed.” He patted the space next to him.

She nodded, toed out of her slippers and finally - finally settled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for taking me and taking care of me today,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

She propped herself up with one arm to look at him.

“I love you, Quinn,” she said as if it explained everything. “Of course I'll take care of you.”

“I know, but I know it was hard for you today.”

Her smile was a bit defeated. She wanted to be done with the hospital, even though she knew it was better to talk and process the emotions.

“Thank you for telling your mom what I needed,” she said, her own voice pulled tight with the memory.

“I wish I could have been holding you,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her hairline.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Never in any kind of relationship - friendship, sibling or romantic - had someone seen a need and filled it so quickly, without her having to ask. To find support given before seeking – to find that Quinn was paying attention to her too. It made her chest tight with gratitude, and her voice wobble with emotion. This was the first relationship that didn’t feel out of balance as they so often had in the past. They cared for each other in visible, tangible ways.

“You gave me the next best thing,” she whispered. “Thanks for sharing her with me.”

“That’s not sharing, Sar, my mom loves you.”

She gave a defeated little sigh, “I know, it’s just…" her voice trailed off in that thinking way of hers, "thanks for seeing me, I guess.”

He laughed a little at the absurdity of her statement and immediately had to throw up.

By some miracle of physics, he managed to get to the small trash can his mom had set next to the bed.

Without complaint, Sarah got out of bed, took the bag out of the trash can and to the garage bin. When she came back, she had a bottle of water and a large cup.

“Swish and spit,” she said, handing them over. He spit in the cup while she replaced the liner. She made him do it twice more before she dumped the contents into the ensuite sink and came back to settle next to him again.

“Why wouldn’t I see you?” he whispered a while later, after the lights had been turned off, and what she said was still lingering in his mind.

A sigh moved her shoulder into his chest with a little more force than before. “I just mean… I’m usually the one doing the caring, not the other way around, and it's nice - to be cared for.”

He adjusted a little to get more of his arm around her. “I love taking care of you,” he whispered into her hair.

Turning over, she tucked her face into the crook of his neck. He felt her tears on his skin before he heard them.

He held her and let her cry. From everything he knew about her past relationships, she was often taken advantage of. Doing all the emotional work without getting much in return. She would be the first to tell him that her unwillingness to share her emotions was the main culprit for that. Even after therapy taught her to express herself and ask for what she needed, she always seemed surprised to find him still there when she had a hard day, as if he might run away from her pain. But nothing worth anything didn’t take a little work. It was all about intention. And he loved her and wanted to be with her, so he focused his intention on that, no matter the hurdle in their path.

For her part, Sarah was glad Quinn came from a family that understood grief. A month before she met him, she had decided not to date anyone who hadn’t lost a parent or sibling. It was just too hard to explain the waves of grief to someone who hadn’t gone through it. Quinn had surprised her, sharing some of his father’s stories about losing his mother when she brought it up for the first time. He didn’t have that first-hand experience, but he was sympathetic, and even once told her he asked his parents for advice when they first started dating. He was all in, and she realized that meant more than anything else.

When she lifted her head eventually, Quinn brushed her tears away with his thumb. Leaving his hand there, cupping the soft curve of her jaw, he smiled and kissed her gently. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

She settled back in again, tucked into Quinn’s side as they drifted to sleep.

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#quinn hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x oc #greif #tw greif #quinn hughes fan fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #Quinn & Sarah Snapshots #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes oneshot #hockey fic #hockey romance

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jscalzi · 1 month

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Back In the World

And as you can see, Smudge was incredibly anxious about us being away for a week. He just worried himself ragged. Brief recap: The 2024 edition of the JoCo Cruise was delightful, we had a tremendous time with friends, and the travel back to the world was beset with difficulties, including a flight that was delayed by six hours and eventually routed to another connecting airport entirely, 700…

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verfound · 1 month

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WIP Wednesday: 03.20.2024

The full scene from last Sunday 😇

Marinette had a soulmate.

Luka stared at the dark pink words on his arm, swallowing thickly as the words rattled around in his head. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know them. She had still found them, at least once, and they were out there, somewhere, waiting to find their fairy again. She’d met them years ago.

…Luka didn’t even remember the last time he’d been in the city. He had been what? Three, four when they’d left? Definitely not long enough to find his soulmate, and he’d only had his words for a few months now besides.

Still.

He had hoped…

That day had been so crazy. It was only a few weeks into the school year, but there had been a delay and their flight had gotten in late. The mayor’s daughter was supposed to show them around the school, but even though Chloé Bourgeois always seemed to be sniffing around for social clout apparently Jagged Stone’s kids had nothing on the model son of Gabriel Agreste, some big wig fashion somebody. She had ditched them the moment she had spotted the model’s golden hair glinting in the sun, and Juleka and him had been left to figure out the bustling campus of Françoise Dupont themselves.

Which was fine. They were used to being ditched. Fending for themselves. That’s what happened when your dad tended to be too famous to bother with you.

But just because Chloé hadn’t been interested in the Rock Giant’s kids didn’t mean others – nearly everyone else – wasn’t. There had been so many people that day, and it had all been a little overwhelming. They had been swarmed, because even though Penny had always done her best to keep them out of the spotlight everyone knew Jagged Stone’s kids. Penny was good, but there was only so much even someone as good as Penny could do.

He’d lost track of how many people had spoken to him that day, vying for introductions and trying to suck up in the hopes of meeting his famous dad. When they’d finally gotten home and he’d shrugged off his hoodie, he’d been shocked to find the words glimmering on his arm.

Thank you.

They were so…so…generic. There was nothing special or unique about them, and they could have come from anyone. There was nothing about them that made any one person stand out, even if one person that day had stood out.

The cute 5ème girl, the one he would later learn was friends with his sister’s soulmate, from the library. He’d been waiting for the librarian at the desk when he’d seen her struggling to reach something on a top shelf, and he had gone to help.

“Here, let me help,” he’d said, laying a hand on her shoulder as he’d reached above them to snatch the book she’d wanted.

“Th-th-thank you,” she’d squeaked, staring up at him with impossibly blue eyes and the prettiest blush he’d ever seen dusting her cheeks.

He had hoped…he had really hoped…but he hadn’t said anything about fairies, so there was no way the thank you burned into his arm could be hers. His first words had been an offer of assistance, not a greeting.

And now he knew she already had a soulmate.

Someone she had met long before he’d ever come into the picture.

…he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. Marinette was an amazing girl with a beautiful song. He hadn’t been able to get her song – to get her – out of his head since that first day, and even if she was sometimes shy and anxious around him, they had struck up an easy friendship – one that had quickly turned into an easy crush, at least for him.

But Marinette, like Rose, was a romantic. She firmly believed in all that soulmate stuff, and why shouldn’t she? She’d had her words for years.

He was happy for her. He was.

He tugged his hoodie back on, not really wanting to see those taunting pink words anymore. Either way, their very existence let him know that his soulmate was somewhere in Paris. At his new school.

…he just…was it so wrong, wishing that that someone was Marinette?

#wip wednesday #miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #wip fic #all these signs #soulmate au #hey I said it's endgame I never said it'd be an easy ride getting there 😝

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mikkomacko · 1 year

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A/n: There's not nearly enough dad Josty content on this app so here's this little piece. No idea what to name it but I hope y'all enjoy it!

Pairing: Tyson Jost x female reader

Warnings: none (mentions of the tr*de but other than that it's just fluff )

Tyson's flight arrives late. The first cold front of the season has moved in over the weekend, settled over Minnesota and casted everything in a bitter chill. The storm isn't bad enough to delay the flight but just enough to slow them down. The estimated arrival of 7 p.m. had fallen back to closer to midnight and any hope he had of spending time with his family tonight flew out the window. He knows the schedule, has it memorized and saved in his phone just in case. Bedtime was 8:30 sometimes 9 if the baby slept a lot that day. He missed that window by about three hours and has a feeling he'll be coming home to a dark, slumbering house tonight.

Even so he was anxious to get home, barely mumbling goodbyes to Duhaime and Boldy as he was gathering his suitcase and duffle before beelining towards his car. He's barely thrown on his seatbelt and turned on the heater before he's pulling out of his spot and hitting the mostly empty highway, beginning the unbearably long journey home (it's really not that far of a drive, maybe 30 minutes with traffic, but tonight it feels like he was moving at a snail's pace). His eye catches the car seat in the rearview mirror and he glances back behind his passenger seat to see the stuffed moose she loves laying on the seat. Pressing a little harder on the gas, he attempts to distract himself with the radio, finding the Christmas station and turning up the volume until it'll all he can hear. Halloween has just barely crept by and you may tease him for how quickly he moves into Christmas mode but he doesn't care. American Thanksgiving isn't something he really cares about (and really no one should care about it in the way they do) so he's unashamed in his holiday spirit.

He's only registered about a song and a half in his brain before he's pulling into the parking garage of the building, gaze searching the concrete complex for your vehicle. He finds it immediately, the faded Avs sticker on the back window sticking out like a sore thumb, and his parking spot empty besides yours.

Tyson wastes no time in pulling into the spot and shutting the engine off. He ignores the bags in the back as he collects his wallet and keys, hastily climbing out of the vehicle and beelining for the elevator. He barely has the sense to lock the car over his shoulder as he impatiently taps at the up button. And he's just as impatient when the doors open, Tyson stepping in and immediately pressing the button for the penthouse.

Counting the dinging floors in his head, Tyson taps the toe of his shoe as the elevator climbs up and up, bringing him to you. When the doors finally open he's greeted with the dark green front door of your place, welcome mat beckoning him closer.

"You decorated." He murmurs into your lips, smiling.

"Yeah. Figured you'd like it."

He nods and momentarily kisses you again. "I do. Know I love Christmas."

"Considerate it a gift for that fight of yours."

He pulls back to get a better look at your face, notices the teasing smile on your lips and quirks a curious eyebrow.

"Ya liked that, eh?"

You bite your bottom lip and giggle quietly, dropping your hands to rest on his shoulders. "Loved it. You should fight assholes more often."

He laughs then too, but shrugs as if it were no big deal. "Making the world a better place for my daughter one Blackhawk at a time."

Just as he expected, you laugh a bit louder at that and he finds himself reaching up to caress your smiling face for just a moment.

"Edmonton next maybe?"

He wants to laugh at your rebuttal but his loyalty to his childhood team weighs heavier so he pouts instead and joking whines, "Hey...."

You cut him off with a kiss to his cheek, stroking the side of his neck lovingly and watching the way his eyes flutter shut for a beat. As soon as he meets your gaze again, you nudge your head towards the other side of the couch.

"Your muse is patiently awaiting her glove dropping daddy."

Tyson perks up even more at that, already looking over your shoulder to the playpen he had set up before he left. "She's up?"

"No," You say sweetly, running your thumb over his jaw, before stepping back and removing your hands from him "but you can wake her if you promise to get her back to sleep."

He doesn't hesitate to nudge you to the side so he can cut across the living room, stepping over the extra Christmas blankets and pillows you've left on the floor. He reaches the play pen, a smile taking over his face as he peers down at his sleeping baby. She's bundled in the sleep sack Tyson's mom gifted them, the fabric fisted in one of her tiny hands while she drools on the other.

He almost feels bad for wanting to wake her, to see those big brown eyes she'd stolen from him and kiss the little button nose that matches yours, but it's been so long since he's seen her and he thinks he's starting to forgot what it felt like to have her curled into his chest. Eager but gentle, Tyson reaches down and slips a hand under her bottom and head, carefully bringing her up into his arms.

"Hi sweet girl," he whispers, wincing when her face scrunches up for a moment. He's waiting for a cry to erupt from her but she just settles into the crook of his elbow, nosing her face into the fabric of his sweatshirt. "Oh look at you."

He turns to find you admiring them with a watery smile, eyes shining in the twinkling Christmas lights with tears you've had a hard time stopping ever since you were pregnant. Despite how emotional you've become, he doesn't worry because he can read it all over your face that they're happy tears, probably even relieved tears. He knew how nervous you were for his first long road trip, the both of you so used to being side-by-side and he's sure that the weight he felt lift off of him earlier has now left you too.

"Come here," he murmurs to you, outstretching his left arm and wiggling his fingers. You let him pull you into his chest too, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and laying your head on his shoulder. Like the baby girl snoring in his arm, you burrow into his sweater, your nose slipping under the bunched fabric of his hood. He can't help but smile.

"You did it babe," he soothes, tickling his fingers down your spine. "This parenting thing is working out pretty good, eh?"

He feels you nod, pulling you in tighter just to remind you that he's always got you, and you return the sentiment by slipping your fingers under his hoodie and shirt, warm fingers ghosting over the soft skin of his back.

"Its good to know we can survive your away games," you whisper, titling your head down to admire your daughter. "but we prefer when you're here."

He laughs a bit, feels his chest swell up with pride and somehow pulls you even closer when you look up and steal a kiss from his lips.

Tyson hums his agreement. "Me too baby. Missed my girls so much."

He's lost in you for a moment or two, taking in the warmth of your gaze and the smell of your honey perfume. You've got purple bags under your eyes, you're smile lazy at the corners but even when the obvious exhaustion on your features you look happy and he can't think of a better look on you. He likes when you're happy, in general, but especially when you're with him.

Leaning in, Tyson butts his nose against yours before pressing a delicate kiss to your cheekbone. That smile he loves so much grows, you're eyes fluttering shut and he inches closer to your lips-

A tiny hands tugs at the string in his hoodie, yanking until the collar tightens uncomfortably around his neck and his hood sits at an awkward angle on his shoulders. You laugh softly as a loud cry breaks out, demanding his attention, and he reluctantly let's you take a step back.

"Oh no dad," you tease, poking at his side "someone's not happy with you."

He huffs out a laugh, moving the baby so she's sitting up against his shoulder. Patting at her back, Tyson begins to walk her in circles around the living room as you disappear into the kitchen. Her cries quickly quiet to sniffles, little hiccups echoing in his ear and he presses a kiss to the side of her head, smiling at how soft her thin brown hair is and how long it's gotten in his short time away.

"Don't be mad at me sweetheart," he pleads "I just missed you so much."

She turns to him, entrapped by the sound of his voice. Her cheeks and nose are red and moist, mouth puckered into a frown but those big brown eyes look at him with awe, the way they always have. From the moment she was born she knew his voice, familiar with it after countless nights of him telling her silly little stories and game summaries through whatever oversized t-shirt you'd stolen from him as a substitute for your maternity clothes. He smiles at her, hooks the sleeve of his hoodie over his fingers and wipes away the mess of tears and dribble on her little face.

"There she is!" He coos, booping her nose "ya miss me too, eh? Watch my games with momma? Bet you helped her put up all these lights too huh?"

She kicks her legs into his side, the frown on her face melting away as she hangs on his every word. Afraid she'll begin wailing again if he stops, Tyson keeps babbling nonsense to her.

"The boys kept asking for you. Want me to take you practice in a couple days but I don't think I want to share my special girl. Plus momma won't let you wear Minny colors and they'll try and put you in a jersey I just know it-"

"You keep my baby far away from Dewey and those other crazies," you say upon returning to the living room, a bottle of warmed breast milk in hand "They're gonna try and convince her Marcus is the moose and I won't have that."

Tyson laughs, knowing if he really wanted to take her to practice you'd allow it and you'd even let her wear the #10 onesie Jared had gifted her after the trade. As if agreeing with you, she babbles happily and he wonders if she's just excited to see her baba or if she recognizes the nickname of her favorite uncle Mikko.

You hand him the bottle, kissing his cheek and then hers before returning to sorting through Christmas boxes. Tyson settles into the empty spot on the couch, cradling her in the crook of his elbow again.

"Ladies sticking together I see," he tells her, chuckling when he brings the bottle to her lips and she eagerly grabs at it. She hasn't quite got the hang of holding it herself, but she loves fidgeting with his fingers as he feeds her, stroking over his knuckles and pinching at the back of his hand.

"That's good," he continues "Momma needs all the backup she can get. Me and your uncles are a bit of a handful."

He looks up when you laugh, watching you work to untangle a ball of multicolored lights. "A bit? I'm just thankful I'm not surrounded by another boy."

He grins. "Yet."

You raise an eyebrow at him, lips pursed in amusement for a second before shrugging. "No boys yet."

"But soon," he presses "right?"

He adjusts his grip on the bottle, still grinning innocently as you roll your eyes but nod.

"Soon."

He waits a beat, let's your attention go back to the mess of lights in your lap before continuing.

"Like tomorrow maybe?"

"Don't push it Jost." You warn.

"What if I put it on my Christmas list?"

"You're a grown man and a father, you don't get a Christmas list."

"Fine. For my winter solstice wish then."

He chuckles at the look on your face, a bit annoyed but more amused.

"Keep bugging and it'll get left off your birthday list too Tyson."

He pouts dramatically, waits for you to peer up at him through your eyelashes before flashing his best puppy dog eyes at you. You drop your left eye into a wink, teasingly and he feels heat rush to his cheeks.

God he's glad to be home.

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost #josty baby #dad! Tyson Jost #fluff #nhl #nhl imagine

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