FUCK TRUMP FUCK ICE FUCK ISRAEL FREE PALESTINE KILL ALL PEDOPHILES TRANS RIGHTS ARE HUMAN RIGHTS!!!!!
Favorites:
Celebrities: Hayden Christensen, Lucas Iverson, & Joe Keery
TV Shows: The Pitt, Gilmore Girls, Big Bang Theory, My little pony, & Stranger Things
Movies: Nightmare Before Christmas, Hamnet, Return of the Jedi, and Meet Me in St Louis
Hobbies: watching movies, writing, playing stupid iPad games, and sleeping
Who I will write for:
- Hayden Christensen
- Lucas Iverson
- James Ogilvie
- Any Hayden Christensen characters (except David Rice and Ben)
- Kylo Ren
- Steve Harrington
- Pitt Headcanons (non romantic)
NSFW Rules:
- kinks I will write: public sex, unprotected sex, begging, bondage, breast play, oral, dacryfilia, breeding, pregnancy, face fucking, face sitting, food play, masturbation, threesomes, lactation, orgasm denial, sensory deprivation, somnophiliaâŚ
- kinks I will not write: age play, anal, beastality, branding, any kind of torture, rape (in the sense of a kink), infantilism, necrophilia, pet play, zoophiliaâŚ.
If I donât have something listed feel free to ask about it :) some things Iâm just not comfortable about writing.
General Rules:
- no hate to anyone (only fictional characters or celebrities not other users)
- no homophobia or transphobia (this is a safe space)
- I am comfortable writing about; abuse (any kind), SA (not in detail only in mention), eating disorders⌠other stuff
Okay we need to have a serious discussion as Hayden fans.
1. RACHEL. I do not like her whatsoever, for many reasons, and in all honesty i didnât even like her before i became a fan of Hayden in 2024⌠so like⌠even though i do not like her, I DO NOT wish any harm on her. She is the mother of his daughter who clearly is the light of his life, and I will not stand for people who wish harm on her, even though they donât like her. I would go into more detail of why I donât like her but now is not the time.
2. BRIAR. Briar is Haydenâs biological daughter. Iâm fucking tired of all the bullshit of people saying that Briar is not his daughter. There are literal pictures of her where she looks like Hayden or looks like her older cousin (Haydenâs sisterâs daughter). Yes, she looks more like Rachel, but genetics work funny. Itâs normal for kids to look more like one of their parents than the other.
3. CONS AND MEETING HIM. I am so happy for those who have met him, even those who have met him a few times, however, thereâs a point where that becomes creepy. When you start traveling across the world to meet him, even though youâve already met him a few times, or going to different countries or cities where he is CONSTANTLY is weird. Especially, when you come on social media and joke about dating him or make sexual comments. Obviously, not everyone is like this but it gets to a point. Not having relationships because you believe youâll have a chance with him, is wrong. Hayden is a real person, not just a commodity. Asking him to kiss his cheek or to hold you in a weird way when youâre wearing questionable outfits, is insane. Iâm sorry. It is. Imagine going up to a stranger and asking them if you can kiss them on the cheek, that is EXACTLY what you are doing to Hayden and itâs not okay.
I have more to say but Iâm tired and I just needed to get this out.
Pls tell me Iâm not the only one freaking out. So⌠if you guys donât know Lucas Iverson (Ogilvie) is in a play in Washington DC til the end of this month⌠they start filming the new Pitt season in a few daysâŚâŚ
I swear to god if my baby doesnât come back I will shoot myself
hayden bulking up and gaining muscle mass for the vader role, and you who absolutely loves it when he gets broader and heavier, so your sex positions are pretty much limited to prone bone and missionary, 'cause you love it when he lays his whole weight on you and presses you deep into the mattress, but you have to keep convincing hayden not to be scared of crushing you <3
warning/notes: religious themes, cheating, age gap, a hint of corruption & manipulation, power imbalance, car sex, loss of virginity, protected sex. took inspiration from crossroads and the starling girl, love the book and the movie both! english isn't my native language, not proofread.
"love is patient, love is kind. it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. it does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. love never fails. but where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass awayâŚ" don's voice sounds so calm and deep within the walls of the youth church group meeting hall. you sit, gazing at him with reverence. you don't place him above god, but he is the voice of god, your spiritual mentor, and you melt into his reading of the first epistle of paul the apostle to the corinthians.
the hymn of love - that's what this passage is called. and you naively believe it's about you and don.
you're his favorite, and it's so obvious that even the others in the group tease you about it without any real malice. you help him organize retreats, you're always by his side at every public event, on missionary weekends; he always waits for your word with more eagerness, though he doesn't let the other group members feel neglected - all are equal before the face of god, but you know you're special. and the others know too, and that soothes you.
what also soothes you, and simultaneously weighs on you, is that don has a perfect, model family - a beautiful wife and a five-year-old son, and it's only for this reason that no one suspects either of you of anything sinful. but returning home from don's office at the church, or from his car, you don't feel euphoria- you feel nausea and a heavy, suffocating sense of shame, squeezing you like a serpent.
"god, forgive me for my sins. i have been seduced by my own lust, i have placed myself above god's law, and i pray for your forgiveness for my weakness, for my shameful desire to possess that which does not belong to meâŚ" you whisper, kneeling, palms pressed together at face level, but inside you, that flame don has stoked within you cannot be quieted.
and it's like this every time.
his lips on your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth - his mustache tickles your skin slightly, but you're used to it now, so it no longer causes discomfort or the quiet giggling that used to charm don so much. he smells of something woody, and also of laundry detergent. his hands - warm, soft, large - slide under your long skirt and squeeze your thighs with confident strength.
"were you thinking about us? today in church? when you were reading the apostle paul's epistleâŚ" you ask as don moves down with kisses to your neck - he doesn't leave hickeys, just open-mouthed kisses, greedily licking your skin as if trying to devour you so the taste of your skin never leaves him, while his palms travel higher toward your ass.
"who else could i have been thinking about?" don whispers, and his breath against your skin, damp from his saliva, gives you goosebumps. he asks it in a tone as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. you believe him. "get comfortable."
he pulls one hand away from your ass for a moment to slide a pillow under your head. there isn't much room in the backseat of his car, but you don't need much. soon you'll merge into one.
"are you scared, darling? is everything okay?" don asks, placing his palm over your mound, on top of your panties. you've already pulled your skirt up, and don sits between your legs, sitting back on his heels. even in the darkness of the car parked somewhere deep in the woods, you can make out the visible bulge in his pants.
your throat is dry, but don doesn't really need your answer. he already knows you're ready. he pulls your panties off and tosses them onto the front seat so you won't have to search for them later. he runs his fingers between your already slick folds and smiles. in the darkness, his smile seems devilish for a second - the thought frightens you, but only for a moment, until he starts gently circling his fingers around your clit, just to relax you and arouse you even more.
"you love me, right, not her?" you reach your hands toward don and he takes your wrists in his free hand, leans closer, and presses your palms to his chest. you feel his heart beating. "what we have is a real connection."
"everything will be fine, my darling, you trust me, don't you? i love you. you," don repeats tenderly, and you believe him. the cross and icons on the dashboard seem judgmental when you turn your head toward them, so you decide to look only at don.
he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and begins to massage it gently. you moan, quietly panting, eyes closed, and your cheeks flush with shame. your innocence - in every sense - stirs something almost primal in don, something he interprets as yet another manifestation of spiritual mentorship, yet another sign that you are his true love, because he never felt anything like this with his wife. this is his purpose - to be your first, to make you a woman, to become one with you.
he abruptly pulls his fingers away from your pussy and unbuttons his pants. he pulls his pants and boxers down and you hear the crinkle of foil.
"look only into my eyes, okay? it might be a little uncomfortable at first, but just think about how now i'm not only your spiritual mentor, but your physical one as wellâŚ" don murmurs, rolling the condom onto his cock. he's larger than average, and he doesn't want you to get scared and tense up. "relax for me, okay?"
"okay," you whisper and pray silently. it won't hurt. it won't be scary. it's you and don- it's your connection, your love, and even if it's a sin, god will forgive you once don divorces and dissolves his marriage to his wifeâŚ
"ah!" you cry out as don's head pushes inside. your inner walls clench.
"shh, shhâŚ" don hovers over you, bracing one hand against the car window and squeezing your thigh with the other. he holds himself back from thrusting in sharply, because he doesn't want to hurt you, and he doesn't want any blood either. he peppers your face with kisses, slowly pushing his cock into your pussy. "see? everything's fine. just breathe, darling, breatheâŚ"
you cling to don's shoulders with your fingers and look into his eyes. he squeezes your thigh almost to the point of pain, greedily kneading your skin, and finally, he bottoms out inside you. his balls slap against your ass and you exhale in sync. at first he doesn't move, giving you time to adjust to his size, to the unfamiliar sensation of fullness inside.
"how do you feel?" don whispers, kissing you. his tongue tangles with yours, his saliva tasting like the coffee he usually drinks. slowly, he begins to move. shallow thrusts. no rush.
"like a stuffed turkey," you mumble between quiet moans slipping from your lips, and don lets out a raspy laugh. he cups your face with one hand, gently stroking your cheekbone. having sex in the car is uncomfortable, but you had no other options - don can't rent an apartment or a motel room, everyone knows him here, and driving to another town⌠it would take too long, plus your parents wouldn't let you go, even though you're eighteen now, but that doesn't mean you can do whatever you please.
but you know don will leave his wife soon - that's what he tells you- and then he'll be responsible for you. you just need to wait a little. and so you wait.
"don't worry, it won't always be like this. it's sacred. what's between us. you'll get used to it and you'll enjoy it very much," don doesn't need to convince you, you already like it - because you're with him. he picks up the pace and his thrusts become more confident and sharp, and your moans louder. you adjust the pillow so you don't hit your head, but don has already moved his hand from your cheekbone to the crown of your head, protecting you from a potential bump. his fingers tangle in your hair.
"i like it, i already like everything," you whisper, trying to roll your hips up to meet his. he groans quietly, breathing deep and heavy, panting, and those sounds, along with the expression of absolute pleasure on his face, make everything inside you clench. you squeeze his cock inside you, tightening your inner walls, and the sensation of even more tightness makes don's head spin.
he moves his palm from your thigh to your mound, using his index and middle finger to massage your clit, while the base of his palm presses slightly down on your lower belly - your pupils dilate from the new sensations. you can feel him inside you even more clearly now.
"you're so, so hot inside," don whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, he had to practically fold himself in half for it, his rhythm faltering for a moment, but it doesn't stop you from feeling pleasure. he kisses you again, nibbles your lower lip, pushes his tongue inside, and all you can do is moan into his mouth.
feeling your orgasm approaching, the tickling sensations in your lower belly make you dig your fingers into don's wrist, but he doesn't pull his hand away, doesn't even break the kiss - just thrusts into you harder, deeper, presses down on your lower belly a little harder, increases the pressure on your clit. you writhe beneath him on the narrow back seat, and when your orgasm washes over you, he grinds his hips into yours, giving shallow thrusts right up to your cervix. the muscle spasms of your vagina, your moans and sobs, your squirming- he comes a few seconds later, letting out a guttural groan. he collapses onto you, pressing you into the leather seats, and rests his forehead against your shoulder. his breath is hot, damp, and he leaves open-mouthed kisses right through your t-shirt, damp with sweat.
"donâŚ" you whisper, your mind hazy after your orgasm. you can feel him pulsing inside you, no condom can hide that sensation.
"did you like it, darling?" don asks tenderly, running his fingers through strands of your hair. he reluctantly slips out of your reddened pussy, straightens up, sitting back on his knees on the seat, and carefully pulls the condom off so nothing spills. he ties it and tosses it into a paper bag with empty soda cups and the box of donuts he bought you earlier. he'll throw it out later.
you nod, unable to find the right words. you watch as don pulls his pants back up, fastens his belt, and then reaches for a pack of dry tissues.
"let's get you cleaned up," he says and carefully wipes between your legs, gathering your juices and the lube from the condom. you blush from the shame and intimacy of the moment, but don looks perfectly calm. his touches are gentle and soft. "there we go. now give me your pretty feet," he asks and, taking your panties from the front seat, helps you pull them on.
"thank you," you mumble and sit up on the seat. you slip on your ballet flats, smooth your skirt down. don gets out of the car, walks around, and opens the door for you so you can move from the back seat back to the passenger seat. your legs are slightly shaky and he chuckles quietly.
"you look like a newborn fawn. you're adorable." he opens the front door for you and when you sit inside, he leans down and kisses you again. tucks your cross, which had slipped out from under your t-shirt, back in. "now let's get you home."
We donât talk about Hayden Christensen with a freaky young girlfriend. The public not even knowing your dating until youâre both walking together and see you covered in hickeys
â summaryâ for someone not romantically inclined, a fake relationship is a terrible ideaâespecially when itâs in the spotlight for the entire world.
â notesâ Enemy to Lovers Oh YEAS. I Love being Mean. semi slow burnâŚ
â ď¸ warningsâ ď¸ mdni!, no proof read
âYour fans aren't buying it.â
Thatâs the first thing Ben says to you on the phone the next morning after the day beforeâs attempt at a date. You reply with a bitter laugh,
âItâs almost like I already told you that the real ones wouldnât.â You shake your head, sighing,
âLet me plan it.â You blurt out, Ben laughingâreally laughing,
âOh, you? You want to plan a date? You are the least romantically inclined person on the planet, yet you write love songs.â he says while you blush in embarrassment, youâre thankful itâs a phone call now. You huff, shaking your head,
âI mean it. They don't believe it because itâs not something I would actually doâdo you have Jamesâs number?â You casually ask while Ben laughs even more,
âDid someone perform brain surgery on you? This is not you at all.â He says while you roll your eyes,
âIf I have to do this stupid shit, I want to make it enjoyable for myself, which includes torturing James behind the scenes.â You murmur, your phone pinging with the contact information.
âIâm making him go to a shitty country bar whether he wants to or not.â You add, smirking to yourself.
+821 562 7099: guess who
James: considering no one else would be this insufferable from a random number, I assume itâs a certain pop-princess.
+821 562 7099: wowww, harsh words for someone whoâs supposed to be head over heels. iâll be at your place at nine. bring a brave face and leave your attitude at home.
James rolls his eyes and simply replies with his address, tossing his phone to the side to get ready.
Your idea? Sitting outside Jamesâs apartment on your humming motorcycle. Your helmet is already on while one hand holds his, casually scrolling on your phone with the other.
The door swings open with James stepping out in all his unfairly perfect glory. Maybe you got his stupid fan girls now. The white linen shirt rolled to the elbows, dark jeans hugging his long legs. He looks like he walked straight out of a cologne ad. He spots you on the bike and pauses, eyebrows lifting.
Itâs clear heâs judging, which only makes you smirk wide.
Without a word, he strides over and plucks the helmet from your hand.
âYou're late," he says flatly while you laugh. He slips the helmet on while I reply,
âBy three minutes, is that ok, golden boy?â You muse, James simply shaking his head. He climbs on behind you with zero grace or warmthâjust obligation dressed as cooperation.
You reach back to grab his wrist, forcing his arm around your waist,
âIâd hold tight if you donât want to fall off!â You rev again; not even giving James a chance to process.
The engine growls beneath you both as he reluctantly wraps his arm around your waistâawkwardly tight, like touching a stranger (which technically, in spirit: yes)
His grip is iron clad and he subconsciously scoots closer to your back.
Speeding and weaving through traffic, almost showing out for himâor going out of your way just to piss him off.
When you finally slow to a stop in a gravel lot. He peels off his helmet at the same time as you, the both of you shaking your hair out instinctively.
The dive bar looms behind him: neon sign flickering, the parking lot empty except for a few bikes and a rusted sedan. It's nothing fancyâthe exact reason you pick it.
He eyes the place like it personally offended him.
"We're going here? This looks like where people fight over beer.â He grumbles while you shrug, locking your bike,
âItâs a place where no one knows who I amâwhat Iâve done, Iâm just⌠me.â You try to explain, stepping inside to lead James. Without missing a beat, he shoves his hands in his pockets and mutters under his breath,
âI survived your suicide-by-bike act."
But there's no real bite to it
And despite himself... he follows you toward the door when you walk inside-the low hum of music and cheap beer filling the air around you both.
You slide into a stool while the bartender lights up,
âWell, itâs my favorite daughter!â Mike laughs, leaning over to give you a hug. You return it and pat his back, shaking your head.
âI am not your daughter, but itâs good to know Iâm the favorite.â You muse with a smile and he laughs. Mikeâs gaze shifts and lands on James, his face dropping.
âWeâre just here to get some pictures and have a drink or two.â You explain quickly and Mike slowly nods,
âI thought hell froze over for a second. You in a relationship has the same chance as me winning the lottery. Yet you write sappy love songs.â He huffs, turning to pour a margarita for you. You shrug, smirking,
âAn oncologist doesnât need to have cancer to treat it, I donât need a relationship just to write about it.â You say, resting your chin in your palm. You reach into your bag and fish out your carton of cigarettes, flipping it open.
When Mike hands you the glass, you hand him the cigarette in exchange.
You light your own before Mikeâs, James huffing,
âSo I donât get one?â He asks while you raise a brow, exhaling the fog,
âNo, I donât think you even smoke.â You reply, shaking your head. James blushes barely, scoffing,
âI donât, but itâs the kind thing to do.â He murmurs and you roll your eyes. Mike clears his throat,
âAnything youâre craving my friend?â He asks, giving a weak smile. James nods,
âWhatever vodka you have.â He replies while you raise a brow,
âOh, got a little Slavic blood in you? Iâm learning so many things.â You chuckle, James rolling his eyes again,
âIâm a pretty open book, you can ask almost anything.â He says in a flat tone, taking the glass from Mike. You nod, humming in thought,
âOk, did you ever steal something from the set?â You ask, James blushing again. He sighs,
âI took the lighter Carmen usesâI thought it would be innocuous enough no one would even notice.â He grumbles, tapping his fingers along the glass. You gasp and put a hand onto his forearm,
âSeriously? I almost bought a replica one because it looks so cool.â You say with a smile, quickly taking your hand away when you notice James staring at it.
âYou donât smoke though? That's silly.â You tease, James shrugging,
âI donât need to be a smoker to have a lighter.â He retorts back, flashing a wide grin. You laugh and gently shove him,
âDonât use my own saying back on me, thatâs not fair.â
âNothing is fair in love and war.â Mike muses, winking to James. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms,
âFar from love. I only love cheap thrills and Steely Dan.â You reply, huffing.
You turn your head, spotting a reporter outside. James trails your gaze before looking back to you. He quickly throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in while you force a smile. He leans down, whispering in your ear,
âKiss me.â He says, not leaving room for you to even deny. You huff softly, gently pecking his lips. You pull away and continue to force your grin, speaking through your clenched teeth,
âYou are absolutely ridiculous. Get ready to go.â You snap while James chuckles,
âHow do you expect people to believe this? You arenât exactly an Oscar winner.â He muses while you pull away, your face twisting with frustration though you try to hide it.
âNeither are you, all those nominations but no awardâor is the reality too much?â You bitterly retort while James follows you to the door.
He grabs your hand before you fully leave, his grip tight as you weave through paparazzi. You quickly start your bike and pass James his helmet, immediately speeding away. They got their pictures and you were done.
As you pull back into Jamesâs drive way, he slides off and hands your helmet back.
âYou didnât finish your drink.â He plainly says while you tilt your head to the side, your face hidden by the chrome visor. He inhales sharply,
âYou could always come inside. I still have stories to tell.â He exhales while you tear off your own helmet. You give a laugh of disbelief,
âOh, am I growing on you now?â You say, killing the engine and following James inside.
âSomething like that, I guess.â
He pours us both glasses of brandy, sliding it your direction.
âTo fake romance.â He muses while you clink glasses. You roll your eyes,
âIn my eyes, all romance is fake.â You reply, leaning over the counter and groaning. Youâre almost completely bent over, arching your back to stretch the muscles.
âWhat isnât fake is this fucking knot in my spine.â You add, muffled by the fact youâre facing the floor.
James watches you slump over the counter with a mix of amusement and concern. The way you're curled, groaning into the granite like a dying rockstarâ-it was comical.
Without thinking, he sets his glass down and steps behind you.
"Back trouble?" he asks quietly, not mocking for once.
Before waiting for an answer, his large hands gently press against your shoulders. Then slowlyâhesitant at firstâhe starts to knead the tense muscles with surprisingly skilled fingers.
"Christ," he mutters,
"You're wound up."
You whimper at the feeling and quickly straighten, trying to pull away,
"You don't need to... do that..." You mumble, sighing softly.
James doesn't realize, but he's pressed right behind you, almost directly on your ass. You blush and shake your head,
"Iâm good, I promise." You add, your voice breathy now.
James freezes the second he feels you pull away, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air. Only then does it clickâhow close he is. The heat of your body pressed against him, the curve of your ass⌠He takes a sharp step back like heâs been burned, clearing his throat way too loudly.
âRight. Sorry,â he mumbles, suddenly very interested in adjusting his sleeves and avoiding eye contact.
The cocky actor is goneâreplaced by a flustered mess with pink cheeks. He grabs both glasses off the counter and downs half of yours without asking because alcohol seems like a good distraction from⌠whatever just happened.
âI should go. Thank you for the drink.â You quickly stutter out, rushing toward the door. James follows and grabs your wrist, his touch intentionally gentle,
âOne thing.â He whispers, pulling you in slowly. You follow the movement, looking up to him before he cups your face and tilts your chin up.
Finally, he pushes his lips against yours with desperation. It still tastes like the brandy, it lingers on your lips when you pull away. Your eyes go wide as you do, processing the gesture slowly.
âGoodnight.â You snap, rushing out and slamming the door behind you.
James doesnât rush after, simply brushing his forefingers along his lipsâsmirking wideâhe knows heâs already won, especially as he hears your motorcycle disappear into the night moments later.
Self Indulgent? IDCâŚâŚâŚ.. did anyone want this? IDC!!! Let me Have This. If you Did want itâŚâŚâŚ. You shouldâŚ. say ThatâŚâŚâŚâŚ. Please YeallâŚ..
Summary: you have a secret admirer. What happens when you catch that secret admirer red handed?
A/N: sorry if this isnât very good I just thought it was a sweet idea. Also Ogilvie deserves more love. I know thereâs a lot of people that donât like him. But I do. If you want more Ogilvie fics please send in requests. And as always where I can I will post my own ideas too.
The first note appeared on your locker door. You were about to head home when you saw the note.
Your suturing was flawless. Maybe you could help me out sometime.
You looked at the note confused. But brushed it off.
The second note came during an extremely difficult shift. You hadnât eaten at all. You just didnât have the time. As you sat back down to chart you noticed the note.
Y/N I noticed you havenât eaten anything today. Take this protein bar as a token of my appreciation for everything youâve taught me. Also a bottle of water in case you havenât had anything to drink either.
You lifted the note off the protein bar. Your eyebrow raised very confused. Someone had been taking notice of you.
âEverything ok?â Trinity asked you when she noticed you looking around confused.
âYeah. Urm Trin did you see someone leave this for me?â You asked as you handed her the note.
Trinity looked the note over and chuckled before handing it back to you.
âYou know who wrote it?â You asked.
âNo. But it seems like you have a secret admirer.â She said.
âTrin be serious for a minute.â You said.
âI am being serious.â She said smiling at you and wiggling her eyebrows at you.
Every couple of days you received a new note from your secret admirer. More compliments on your techniques. Or the way you helped out the med students. That they hoped to be as good a doctor as you when they finally become an intern.
That narrowed down your options quite a bit. In fact you had a feeling you might know who the notes were from but you didnât say a thing.
The last note you received, you caught your secret admirer red handed. You had left your water bottle in your locker and went to fetch it.
Thatâs when you caught Ogilvie leaving a note on your locker.
âWhat are you doing Ogilvie?â You asked, even though you already knew the answer.
He quickly turned to look at you, turning bright red when he realised he had been caught.
âI urm n-nothing.â He stuttered.
âYouâre the one whoâs been leaving me the notes.â You said a smirk on your face.
âIâm sorry.â Ogilvie said rubbing the back of his neck.
âPass me the note Ogilvie.â You said.
âPlease donât make me do this.â He said. Clearly embarassed.
âPass me the note.â You said again.
Ogilvie grabbed the note from your locker and held it out to you. As you took the note from him, you made sure your fingers brushed lightly against his.
âI should go.â Ogilvie said trying to rush past you.
You grabbed his arm stopping him from going any further.
âDonât.â Is all you said before reading the note.
I really admire your work. And I admire you. I also wanted to thank you for everything youâve taught me. And to thank you for comforting me when we lost our patient.
A smile tugged at your lips. Ogilvie looked at you confused. As if you might laugh at him or berate him.
âIâm sorry.â He said. Looking down at the ground.
âJames look at me.â You said using his first name.
Ogilvie felt butterflies in his stomach as he looked at you. He slightly towered over you. Only by a few inches but enough so that he was looking down at you.
You looked around to make sure no one else was around. You placed a hand on his chest. An action that caused Ogilvie to take a deep breath, and make his heart skip a beat.
âDonât be sorry.â You said.
âI shouldnât feel this way. Itâs wrong. Youâre an intern and Iâm only a med student and.â He started rambling but stopped when you pressed a finger to his lips.
âStop rambling. And listen.â You said. All Ogilvie did was nod.
âDonât be sorry. I actually think itâs kind of sweet.â You said.
âYou do?â He asked.
âOf course. Look letâs not talk about this here. How about after our shift we go for a walk in the park? Then we can talk about this properly.â You suggested.
âIâd love that.â Ogilvie said letting a smile fall onto his lips.
âMeet me outside after our shift.â You said placing a brief kiss on his cheek, before grabbing your water bottle from your locker and leaving Ogilvie stood there smiling and blushing like an idiot.
â summaryâ for someone not romantically inclined, a fake relationship is a terrible ideaâespecially when itâs in the spotlight for the entire world.
â notesâ a little Enemy to Lovers Oh YEAS. I Love being Mean. semi slow burn⌠because I Would Like. to Do. more. Parts. If Yeall Want.
âNo, I already told youâand James Ogilvie of all fucking people? Seriously?â You huff to your manager, Ben, who simply sighs back,
âItâll look amazing for the album, heâs at the top of his game right nowâevery girl wants him, every guy wants youâitâs a match made in PR heaven.â He retorts.
âYour heaven is my hell. None of my songs are even about romance! Especially not on this album.â You snap back while Ben gives you an exhausted expression,Â
âNeed I remind you track 7 is literally called âEverything is Romanticâ or is that not important?â He rhetorically asks, causing you to flare red in embarrassment.Â
âItâs just about life being beautifulâbut my point is, if people need celebrity gossip to listen to my musicâI donât want them as fans. I sell stadiums and records just fine without that fake shit in headlines.â You grumble, still sitting at the restaurant booth with Ben.Â
The last thing you wanted was a relationship; let alone a PR one. But they had to stick you with James Ogilvie? The (arrogant) heartthrob to most of America? He was a movie star, no doubt. The lead of the Augustine Trilogyâplaying Carmen Moreno in the titular seriesâhe was a household name right beside you. You had seen James only a few times at major press events, every run in was worse than the last. Huffing, sighing, eye rolling just because you were in the general vicinity and he was covered by the fact no cameras were on him.
It just couldn't be worse. Still, you're dragged to a meeting with Ben, James and a PR rep.
âThank you guys for joining us today.â The rep says with a smile while you slide into the seat across from James. You eye him up and downâhe looks a lot different off camera.
"Well it's nice to finally meet you." James says with that same stupid smirk, holding out a hand for you to shake. You hesitate but return the gesture, speaking as you do,
âYeah. Riveting. You know we have met before, right?â You snap, giving a scoff of disbelief. James blushes and looks away for a moment before locking eyes again,
âI canât say I rememberâŚâ he grumbles, causing you to laugh and shake your head,
âThat right there? Is the exact reason I donât want to do this shit.â You push out from your chair to stand before Ben grabs your wrist, giving you the dad stare.Â
Slowly, you sit back down, crossing your arms over your chest,
âIf you want this to be successful, you need to respect me and my art, not to mention what I stand for.â You coldly say, trying to hide the fact youâve rehearsed this conversation a million times over. James only smirks,
âOh yeah? What do you stand for? Dyed hair and degeneracy?â He laughs while you narrow your eyes like daggers onto James,
âHave you ever even listened to my music?â You snap, his smirk dropping while you continue,
âI have a song in your stupid fucking movie.â You add, sharp enough Ben kicks you under the table.Â
Truthfully? James had only heard that one song for said âstupid movie,â barely even that. It played during the promotions, sure, but he never paid any attention. He didnât know anything about you besides the occasional magazine or Instagram scroll. He couldnât even name a single song, now he was really thinking about it.
âAt least Carmen Moreno is actually likeable, when you play him I can almost stand looking at your face.â You say with a bitter smile while Ben glares at you,
âWhat did I just say? Donât fuel the fire.â Ben says, not bothering to whisper his correction now. You roll your eyes, still smirking like a defiant teen,Â
âWhatâs the issue? Isnât that what relationships are about? Fire and passion?â You shake your head, leaning back in the chair.
âIf you are going to act like a child, Iâm going to treat you like one.â James snaps back, the PR rep blurting out,
âBoth of you stop. I donât care if you want one anotherâs head on a platter, you guys are going to suck it up and sell this shit. You two will go on a date, you will go to events together, eventually you will break up. You two can play nice for about 5 months.â The rep says sharply while your eyes go wide,
âFive fucking months? This is CIA level torture. I would rather play guitar with a cheese grater.â You reply, though the rep ignores both of you,
âAnd you two will kiss, there will be PDA. I have quite literally made it as easy as humanly possible, 15 minutes at a record shop tomorrow and people will go haywire.â They say, leaning back in the chair. You laugh, shaking your head,
âOh yeah, bring the air headed actor to a music shop. He will totally get it.â You roll you eyes while James huffs,
âI donât know what I did to press your nerves so much, but I didnât come in this hostile.â He says coldly while you frownâfor once, itâs not hateful or sarcastic.
âYou donât remember how you treated me in the past and thatâs set a precedent for you. Not to mention I didnât want to do this, so yeah, Iâm not a happy camper.â You reply softer this time, the silence settling in the conference room.
âTomorrow you guys will have a date at this store, Iâve already discussed with James that he will drive you both to and from the record shop back to his place. More pictures, people love when the guy drives whoever around.â The rep sighs, closing his binder,
âIâm glad weâve calmed down some. Letâs try to keep this animosity to ourselves.â They add, standing with a huff.
âEh, no promises.â You say, leaving before James could even stand, disappearing down the hall.
After the messy meeting, James settles in his overpriced apartment with luxury furniture and aged whisky poured out.
He relaxes by scrolling on his phone until he gets an ad for the Augustine merchandise restock, the original soundtrack vinyl being shown. James looks up from the screen, his record player across the room with a case neatly tucked below.
He sighs, tossing his phone before walking toward the box of record, flipping through before he pulls out the OST record.Â
He puts it on, skipping to your song for the movieâhe was actually giving it a shot, though he would never admit it fully.Â
âNever had a doubt in the beginning / Never a doubt / Trusted you true in the beginning / I loved you right through / Arm in arm, we laughed like kids / At all the silly things we did /Â You made me promises, promises / Knowing I'd believe / Promises, promises / I knew you'd never keep / Second time around and I'm retreating / I'm losing my ground / This time around, there's no believing / What you wanted to have found / You were saying you and me ; Are not your style or cup of tea,â
He actually was tapping his foot to the beat, even bopping his headâyour voice is almost soothing playing over a speakerâmaybe he understood those fans now.Â
James opens his phone again, taking a picture of the record player spinning the soundtrack vinyl, posting to his Instagram story with 175 Million followersânot before he tags your account.Â
Simple. Not flashyâbut insanely out of the blue. Itâs daring, he knows how youâll reactâmaybe thatâs what he wants, to see you angry⌠though he doesnât dwell on the thought.
The meeting stresses you out enough you cancel your studio session, instead curling up on your couch. When you get the notification of the story, you feel your heart racingâitâs a mix of anger and admirationâdid he put on the record just to hear that one song? You huff, mentally racking for a way to piss him off right back.Â
You smirk to yourself, reaching for the remote and clicking HBO on your flat screen. You put on the second Augustine movieâAugustine: Fallenâskipping to the middle of the film, snapping a photo of James on the screen.Â
You tag him right back, this time? A heart eyes emoji. Itâs game on.Â
Tabloids, gossip forums and fan pages eat it upâthe idea you two could be in love? Some of the biggest names in your respective industries? It was hard not to eat it up. James, on the other hand, was on the other side of the screen fuming.Â
You both keep it behind the scenes though, both of you are thinking of a way to torture one another.
The next day, James pulls up in his car outside your house where youâre already on the door stepâmuch more dolled up than you wanted to be, but Ben had already lectured you 20 times over. Though wearing high waisted jeans with a âBeach Boysâ band tee shirt on and makeup is all you deliver. How much do you really need to dress up to have a fake date at a record store?Â
James opens your door, letting you slip into the passenger while he closes it for youâat least he had manners still.Â
âYou look nice.â He says gruffly, buckling himself in while you mirror the motion. You give a chuckle, clearly bitter,Â
âI don't look like a degenerate?â You snap back, not giving him the chance to answer before you continue,
âWhat was with the Instagram shit last night?â You cross you arms over your chest, James sighing,Â
âTrying to make this look real? I don't imagine youâre a great actorâbut you donât have room to talk when you make a post too.â He says while you shrug. You donât reply, so instead James continues,
âI really did listen to itâthe song on the vinyl⌠not bad.â He finally says, keeping his eyes focused entirely on the road like even slipping a glance your direction would turn him to stone. You nod, looking to your shoes,
âIt was a fun project, I really like that directorâs work so being asked to make him a song was kind of⌠I guess it's an honor. I tried to really pour myself into it.â You shrug, facing him again while he turns onto the last street,Â
âWhat inspired the lyrics?â He blurts out, parking before he kills the engine. You furrow your brows, forgetting to even unbuckle,Â
âI think because in the first movie, Carmen promises to call Augustine before itâs summer breakâbut he doesnât, which you know⌠kills her and everything,â You explain, sighing,Â
âSo I imagined what Augustine wouldâve felt in the afterlife, knowing she died because youâCarmen, sorryâcouldnât be truthful and didnât think she fit in his life anymore.â You add, finally unbuckling while James sits shellshocked for a moment,
âI⌠didnât think about it that way.â he murmurs as he steps out of the car, locking it behind him,Â
âYou have a good storytelling ability.â he says, holding the door to the record store open. You step in, seeing it was completely empty of people but full of boxes of records. You turn to James and nod,Â
âI know I do, but you just haven't listened to my music. What do you listen to, anyway?â You ask, almost mockingly as you start to flip through albums,Â
âNot really much⌠I guess maybe classic rock?â He huffs while you laugh,
âYou have a fucking record playerâAt least you bothered to pick a good genre.â you shake your head, lighting up when you see a certain album,Â
âOh my god. No fucking way.â You laugh, pulling it out to stare in awe while James gives a confused expression,
âWhat is it?â He blurts out while you continue to inspect the vinyl,Â
âWhite Stripes by Chris Rainbow⌠Iâm covering some of these songs for the charity event. This almost feels like fate.â You sigh with a smile, hugging the record while James furrows his brows,Â
âWell then Iâm a good luck charm.â He says plainly while paparazzi clamor outside the shop. You both sigh, forcing smiles before James says,
âHug me.â He quietly suggests while you laugh,Â
âUhm what? Noââ youâre cut off by James simply wraps an arm around your waist and pulling you in,Â
âWe have to sell it, act like an actor.â He hisses hot in your ear, making you blush from the feeling and the fact heâs crossed a line.Â
You scoff,Â
âIâm buying this record and weâre leaving.â You say, James slowly releases you to walk toward the counter. The clerk shakes his head, his arms crossed over his chest,
âThey paid to rent this place out which included 5 vinyls, so you can just go.â He boredly says while you nod, slowly turning to the crowd outside. You gulp before James is at your side again, taking the record from you and grabbing your hand.Â
âItâll be fine, just keep up and smile.â He says casually, flashing a charming grin to the cameras as he pulls you toward his carâwhere he of course gets the door for you before himself.Â
Heâs quick to disappear down a side street, not buckling in until youâre fully pulled away. You sigh, looking out the window,Â
âItâs sad, those people I mean. They have so little to look forward to in their own lives they follow us to get some modicum of joy.â You rest your face in your hand while James side eyes you for a split second,Â
âOr maybe they have too much in their life, you never know.â He softly replies, the two of you sitting in the silence only filled by the rumble of the car. Neither of you talk until youâre back at your place, James getting as close to the front door he can while you unbuckle,Â
âI guess you werenât hell on earth todayâbut donât grab my waist like that again without a real warning.â You snap, taking the vinyl with you as you step out. James smirks and scoffs,Â
âWhy? Because you liked it? Sweet dreams, pop-punk princess.â He teases back, speeding off before you can even process what he just threatened.Â
James though? Heâs simply grinning ear to ear the entire ride home.
Part 2⌠when? Also⌠just sayin it would be crazy if they get caught like making out passionately and the PR people go bonkers because they didnât schedule that and but they just made out on their own terms hehehe
â summaryâ for someone not romantically inclined, a fake relationship is a terrible ideaâespecially when itâs in the spotlight for the entire world.
â notesâ a little Enemy to Lovers Oh YEAS. I Love being Mean. semi slow burn⌠because I Would Like. to Do. more. Parts. If Yeall Want.
âNo, I already told youâand James Ogilvie of all fucking people? Seriously?â You huff to your manager, Ben, who simply sighs back,
âItâll look amazing for the album, heâs at the top of his game right nowâevery girl wants him, every guy wants youâitâs a match made in PR heaven.â He retorts.
âYour heaven is my hell. None of my songs are even about romance! Especially not on this album.â You snap back while Ben gives you an exhausted expression,Â
âNeed I remind you track 7 is literally called âEverything is Romanticâ or is that not important?â He rhetorically asks, causing you to flare red in embarrassment.Â
âItâs just about life being beautifulâbut my point is, if people need celebrity gossip to listen to my musicâI donât want them as fans. I sell stadiums and records just fine without that fake shit in headlines.â You grumble, still sitting at the restaurant booth with Ben.Â
The last thing you wanted was a relationship; let alone a PR one. But they had to stick you with James Ogilvie? The (arrogant) heartthrob to most of America? He was a movie star, no doubt. The lead of the Augustine Trilogyâplaying Carmen Moreno in the titular seriesâhe was a household name right beside you. You had seen James only a few times at major press events, every run in was worse than the last. Huffing, sighing, eye rolling just because you were in the general vicinity and he was covered by the fact no cameras were on him.
It just couldn't be worse. Still, you're dragged to a meeting with Ben, James and a PR rep.
âThank you guys for joining us today.â The rep says with a smile while you slide into the seat across from James. You eye him up and downâhe looks a lot different off camera.
"Well it's nice to finally meet you." James says with that same stupid smirk, holding out a hand for you to shake. You hesitate but return the gesture, speaking as you do,
âYeah. Riveting. You know we have met before, right?â You snap, giving a scoff of disbelief. James blushes and looks away for a moment before locking eyes again,
âI canât say I rememberâŚâ he grumbles, causing you to laugh and shake your head,
âThat right there? Is the exact reason I donât want to do this shit.â You push out from your chair to stand before Ben grabs your wrist, giving you the dad stare.Â
Slowly, you sit back down, crossing your arms over your chest,
âIf you want this to be successful, you need to respect me and my art, not to mention what I stand for.â You coldly say, trying to hide the fact youâve rehearsed this conversation a million times over. James only smirks,
âOh yeah? What do you stand for? Dyed hair and degeneracy?â He laughs while you narrow your eyes like daggers onto James,
âHave you ever even listened to my music?â You snap, his smirk dropping while you continue,
âI have a song in your stupid fucking movie.â You add, sharp enough Ben kicks you under the table.Â
Truthfully? James had only heard that one song for said âstupid movie,â barely even that. It played during the promotions, sure, but he never paid any attention. He didnât know anything about you besides the occasional magazine or Instagram scroll. He couldnât even name a single song, now he was really thinking about it.
âAt least Carmen Moreno is actually likeable, when you play him I can almost stand looking at your face.â You say with a bitter smile while Ben glares at you,
âWhat did I just say? Donât fuel the fire.â Ben says, not bothering to whisper his correction now. You roll your eyes, still smirking like a defiant teen,Â
âWhatâs the issue? Isnât that what relationships are about? Fire and passion?â You shake your head, leaning back in the chair.
âIf you are going to act like a child, Iâm going to treat you like one.â James snaps back, the PR rep blurting out,
âBoth of you stop. I donât care if you want one anotherâs head on a platter, you guys are going to suck it up and sell this shit. You two will go on a date, you will go to events together, eventually you will break up. You two can play nice for about 5 months.â The rep says sharply while your eyes go wide,
âFive fucking months? This is CIA level torture. I would rather play guitar with a cheese grater.â You reply, though the rep ignores both of you,
âAnd you two will kiss, there will be PDA. I have quite literally made it as easy as humanly possible, 15 minutes at a record shop tomorrow and people will go haywire.â They say, leaning back in the chair. You laugh, shaking your head,
âOh yeah, bring the air headed actor to a music shop. He will totally get it.â You roll you eyes while James huffs,
âI donât know what I did to press your nerves so much, but I didnât come in this hostile.â He says coldly while you frownâfor once, itâs not hateful or sarcastic.
âYou donât remember how you treated me in the past and thatâs set a precedent for you. Not to mention I didnât want to do this, so yeah, Iâm not a happy camper.â You reply softer this time, the silence settling in the conference room.
âTomorrow you guys will have a date at this store, Iâve already discussed with James that he will drive you both to and from the record shop back to his place. More pictures, people love when the guy drives whoever around.â The rep sighs, closing his binder,
âIâm glad weâve calmed down some. Letâs try to keep this animosity to ourselves.â They add, standing with a huff.
âEh, no promises.â You say, leaving before James could even stand, disappearing down the hall.
After the messy meeting, James settles in his overpriced apartment with luxury furniture and aged whisky poured out.
He relaxes by scrolling on his phone until he gets an ad for the Augustine merchandise restock, the original soundtrack vinyl being shown. James looks up from the screen, his record player across the room with a case neatly tucked below.
He sighs, tossing his phone before walking toward the box of record, flipping through before he pulls out the OST record.Â
He puts it on, skipping to your song for the movieâhe was actually giving it a shot, though he would never admit it fully.Â
âNever had a doubt in the beginning / Never a doubt / Trusted you true in the beginning / I loved you right through / Arm in arm, we laughed like kids / At all the silly things we did /Â You made me promises, promises / Knowing I'd believe / Promises, promises / I knew you'd never keep / Second time around and I'm retreating / I'm losing my ground / This time around, there's no believing / What you wanted to have found / You were saying you and me ; Are not your style or cup of tea,â
He actually was tapping his foot to the beat, even bopping his headâyour voice is almost soothing playing over a speakerâmaybe he understood those fans now.Â
James opens his phone again, taking a picture of the record player spinning the soundtrack vinyl, posting to his Instagram story with 175 Million followersânot before he tags your account.Â
Simple. Not flashyâbut insanely out of the blue. Itâs daring, he knows how youâll reactâmaybe thatâs what he wants, to see you angry⌠though he doesnât dwell on the thought.
The meeting stresses you out enough you cancel your studio session, instead curling up on your couch. When you get the notification of the story, you feel your heart racingâitâs a mix of anger and admirationâdid he put on the record just to hear that one song? You huff, mentally racking for a way to piss him off right back.Â
You smirk to yourself, reaching for the remote and clicking HBO on your flat screen. You put on the second Augustine movieâAugustine: Fallenâskipping to the middle of the film, snapping a photo of James on the screen.Â
You tag him right back, this time? A heart eyes emoji. Itâs game on.Â
Tabloids, gossip forums and fan pages eat it upâthe idea you two could be in love? Some of the biggest names in your respective industries? It was hard not to eat it up. James, on the other hand, was on the other side of the screen fuming.Â
You both keep it behind the scenes though, both of you are thinking of a way to torture one another.
The next day, James pulls up in his car outside your house where youâre already on the door stepâmuch more dolled up than you wanted to be, but Ben had already lectured you 20 times over. Though wearing high waisted jeans with a âBeach Boysâ band tee shirt on and makeup is all you deliver. How much do you really need to dress up to have a fake date at a record store?Â
James opens your door, letting you slip into the passenger while he closes it for youâat least he had manners still.Â
âYou look nice.â He says gruffly, buckling himself in while you mirror the motion. You give a chuckle, clearly bitter,Â
âI don't look like a degenerate?â You snap back, not giving him the chance to answer before you continue,
âWhat was with the Instagram shit last night?â You cross you arms over your chest, James sighing,Â
âTrying to make this look real? I don't imagine youâre a great actorâbut you donât have room to talk when you make a post too.â He says while you shrug. You donât reply, so instead James continues,
âI really did listen to itâthe song on the vinyl⌠not bad.â He finally says, keeping his eyes focused entirely on the road like even slipping a glance your direction would turn him to stone. You nod, looking to your shoes,
âIt was a fun project, I really like that directorâs work so being asked to make him a song was kind of⌠I guess it's an honor. I tried to really pour myself into it.â You shrug, facing him again while he turns onto the last street,Â
âWhat inspired the lyrics?â He blurts out, parking before he kills the engine. You furrow your brows, forgetting to even unbuckle,Â
âI think because in the first movie, Carmen promises to call Augustine before itâs summer breakâbut he doesnât, which you know⌠kills her and everything,â You explain, sighing,Â
âSo I imagined what Augustine wouldâve felt in the afterlife, knowing she died because youâCarmen, sorryâcouldnât be truthful and didnât think she fit in his life anymore.â You add, finally unbuckling while James sits shellshocked for a moment,
âI⌠didnât think about it that way.â he murmurs as he steps out of the car, locking it behind him,Â
âYou have a good storytelling ability.â he says, holding the door to the record store open. You step in, seeing it was completely empty of people but full of boxes of records. You turn to James and nod,Â
âI know I do, but you just haven't listened to my music. What do you listen to, anyway?â You ask, almost mockingly as you start to flip through albums,Â
âNot really much⌠I guess maybe classic rock?â He huffs while you laugh,
âYou have a fucking record playerâAt least you bothered to pick a good genre.â you shake your head, lighting up when you see a certain album,Â
âOh my god. No fucking way.â You laugh, pulling it out to stare in awe while James gives a confused expression,
âWhat is it?â He blurts out while you continue to inspect the vinyl,Â
âWhite Stripes by Chris Rainbow⌠Iâm covering some of these songs for the charity event. This almost feels like fate.â You sigh with a smile, hugging the record while James furrows his brows,Â
âWell then Iâm a good luck charm.â He says plainly while paparazzi clamor outside the shop. You both sigh, forcing smiles before James says,
âHug me.â He quietly suggests while you laugh,Â
âUhm what? Noââ youâre cut off by James simply wraps an arm around your waist and pulling you in,Â
âWe have to sell it, act like an actor.â He hisses hot in your ear, making you blush from the feeling and the fact heâs crossed a line.Â
You scoff,Â
âIâm buying this record and weâre leaving.â You say, James slowly releases you to walk toward the counter. The clerk shakes his head, his arms crossed over his chest,
âThey paid to rent this place out which included 5 vinyls, so you can just go.â He boredly says while you nod, slowly turning to the crowd outside. You gulp before James is at your side again, taking the record from you and grabbing your hand.Â
âItâll be fine, just keep up and smile.â He says casually, flashing a charming grin to the cameras as he pulls you toward his carâwhere he of course gets the door for you before himself.Â
Heâs quick to disappear down a side street, not buckling in until youâre fully pulled away. You sigh, looking out the window,Â
âItâs sad, those people I mean. They have so little to look forward to in their own lives they follow us to get some modicum of joy.â You rest your face in your hand while James side eyes you for a split second,Â
âOr maybe they have too much in their life, you never know.â He softly replies, the two of you sitting in the silence only filled by the rumble of the car. Neither of you talk until youâre back at your place, James getting as close to the front door he can while you unbuckle,Â
âI guess you werenât hell on earth todayâbut donât grab my waist like that again without a real warning.â You snap, taking the vinyl with you as you step out. James smirks and scoffs,Â
âWhy? Because you liked it? Sweet dreams, pop-punk princess.â He teases back, speeding off before you can even process what he just threatened.Â
James though? Heâs simply grinning ear to ear the entire ride home.
Hear me out, Whitaker's ex reader x James Ogilvie.
Reader breaks up with Dennis after he continues to bail or forget plans due to Amy. Not many people even knew they were dating as Dennis didn't want Gloria to find out. James finds you crying or right after the break up (quite a big blow up on the readers part due to Dennis not realising she was suffering mentally due to work and his distance) and comforts you. You get paired with James to do triage for a while after that and become extremely close. Eventually dating and Dennis gets jealous
warning/notes: none, just single dad!james and fluff. this is gonna be a fic series, shout out to the anon who gave me this idea way before my break! although in the request james' daughter was 5, not 6, but i only remembered that after i'd already finished writing... anyway, hope you guys like it! english isn't my native language, not proofread.
"you have way too high expectations and standards, you know? maybe lower the bar a little and, y'know... relax?" you hear this from every other person when it comes to relationships.
but you don't wanna lower the bar. what for? you don't live in a vacuum and you see what guys are like these days, and what people around you call "high expectations" is literally the bare minimum. you're smart, well-rounded, beautiful, and even if you weren't any of those things- so what? you still deserve basic human decency, not bouncing between one extreme and the other, where you're stuck with either some andrew tate red pill incel bullshit follower or some super conservative "provider and protector of the family" type who might open doors for you but also wants to turn you into a housewife.
no. you're not waiting for perfect, you're just waiting for... decent. reasonable. flawed, but not unhinged. you're willing to work on a relationship, you're willing to put in the effort, but it has to be mutual and it just has to... resonate somewhere deep inside you.
"don't wait for the love of your life to just knock on your door," you hear from coworkers who strongly suggest you sign up for tinder.
but sometimes, things fall into place the way they're supposed to without much effort.
hearing a knock at the door, you open it, and your eyes first land on a tall man in an unbuttoned shirt with a white tank top underneath and jeans, dark hair tousled, a tired-awkward smile on his lips, hands in his pockets- and you can spot a bit of his tattoo peeking out, a kid's backpack slung behind his shoulder- and then your gaze drops to a girl in a blue girl scout uniform, daisy petals pinned to her vest along with her troop number and an american flag patch. you've seen them before, you think they live at the end of the street, but you're not exactly big on chatting with neighbors.
"hello, my name is olivia and this is my dad james! i'm a girl scout from troop 'daisy'! would you like to buy some cookies to help our troop reach our goal?" olivia says clearly and with expression, then turns to james, clearly looking for his help.
"tell her about the goal, baby," he leans down and whispers in her ear, gently rubbing her back. "and which cookies you've got."
"with the money we raise, we're gonna buy food and toys for an animal shelter," olivia adds, a little less confident now, takes a breath, and continues brightly, "i have crispy thin mints, samoas, and..." she looks back at him again.
"and gluten-free toffee tastic," james says and, seemingly for the first time, lifts his gaze to you. "six dollars a box."
his piercing blue eyes linger on you.
"you're just adorable, you know that? how old are you, olivia?" you ask, leaning slightly toward the girl, and she smiles proudly, showing off a recently lost baby tooth on the side.
"i'm six!"
"then i'll take three boxes of thin mints and three boxes of toffee tastic. how many boxes is that total?" you ask, and olivia giggles, clearly amused by your question.
"six! i can count, i'm going to school in the fall actually," olivia says with an important air, and james watches this exchange with a now more relaxed smile. thank god she inherited the ability to communicate with people and the world around her from her mother, not from him.
"yeah? maybe you can figure out how much money i need to pay then? or should we ask your dad for help?" you lift your gaze to james - your eyes meet. "you count, and i'll go grab some cash, okay, olivia? you two can have a seat," you nod toward a small bench on the porch, a little coffee table next to it with a vase of dried flowers in the center.
while you go inside to get money, james and olivia move toward the bench. he pulls out six boxes of cookies, and olivia, sticking out the tip of her tongue, tries to count on her fingers how much you owe - she hasn't learned multiplication yet.
"two packs of cookies is twelve dollars... three..." she counts out loud, bending her little fingers, and james watches his daughter with a warm smile, not interfering unless she asks for help, because he knows she can do it. he tries to be a better parent than his father was, and for him that's the number one priority, given that he's raising olivia on his own after the divorce.
"dad? i can't count it," olivia sighs, giving up, and james rubs her back encouragingly.
"that's okay, baby girl. you'll learn that in school. it'll be thirty-six. tell her she needs to pay thirty-six dollars."
you come out of the house with your wallet and a pack of reese's peanut butter cups.
"i dunno if you like these, but i love them," you say, "taking treats from strangers is actually not a great idea, but even if you don't eat them- just consider it a little gift for you," smiling, you hand the pack to olivia and her eyes go wide as she immediately takes them.
"thank you so much, miss! thank you, you're so kind! that'll be, uh... that'll be thirty-six dollars!" the girl says, catching herself. james had already placed the six boxes of cookies on the coffee table and was now silently watching your interaction with olivia again. it was heartwarming to see her eyes light up with joy.
"thank you," james says, looking at you. his voice sounds deeper and lower, like a wild cat's purr.
"thank you," you say with a soft smile and hand him forty dollars. "keep the change. homeless animals deserve more food and toys."
james takes the money from your hands, his rough, calloused-from-constant-physical-labor fingers brushing against your soft ones. no electric spark between you, but the touch feels surprisingly pleasant. you can get a better look at his tattoo now - a tree trunk on his forearm, its roots trailing down onto his fingers.
"thank you! you're so kind, miss," olivia says, beaming her toothless smile, looking at you with her big eyes as you fill out the cookie order form. "i hope you like the cookies! we're gonna be selling them at the city park on saturday, you can come and buy more!"
james quietly hums, proud of the sales skills already showing in olivia's character, and you let out a soft laugh.
"if i'm not busy, i'll definitely come. good luck with sales, you two," you hand the form back to james and he tucks it into the kid's backpack, which looks especially funny on his broad shoulders.
"goodbye, miss!" olivia says, but james hesitates.
"your table legs are wobbly," he says, looking at you, "barely hanging on. the tabletop's glass, if you put something heavy on it, the legs might give out, the glass will break and that won't be great. i could stop by sometime this week, fix it," he clears his throat and offers. his gaze is glued to your face again. "i already have your phone number, so i can just text you and we'll figure it out."
you glance at the coffee table. are the legs really wobbly? you hadn't noticed before. james, catching your hesitation, raises his palms up.
"no charge."
not that you're worried about money. you smile and shrug.
"and here i thought it was an elegant way to sell an extra box of cookies," you tease him, and a boyish smile almost spreads across james' face. "text me and we'll figure it out then. thank you," you tilt your head slightly and finally step back inside.
well, you definitely opened the door to something more than just a girl scout today.
James doesnât pull away from holding you until he kisses your temple,
âWhatâs going on to keep you so stressed?â He finally asks, reaching out to cup your face in his palm. His touch is so gentle, a stark contrast to how he usually treated youâlust filled and desperate for moreâyet, now he seems so soft. Your shoulders slump and you sigh before you reply,
âWork is killing me. Literally. My fucken' watch says my heart rate has been up all week, I had to even move my therapist appointment closer, it hasn't been all easy for me either." You glance away, almost painful. The air around us has melted from tension filled to just exhaustion and attempts to comfort.
"I'm trying new meds, I got a write up from GloriaâRobby's trying to cover my ass the best he canâbut itâs hard.â You huff, your voice cracking. James forces your face back in his direction, making you lock eyes as he starts to speak,
"I'm sorry," he murmured into your hair âthe two words rare as hell coming from himâand they meant more than any grand romantic speech ever could. Then he reaches out slowly and takes your wristâ not rough this timeâand lifts your hand toward him so he could press two fingers against your pulse point on the inside of it: checking your heartbeat himself like some overbearing lover with separation anxiety from both medical practice and romance at once. James' fingers lingered on your pulse, his brows knitting together as he felt the rapid thud beneath warm skin. Your heart was racingânot from passion or anger now, but stress. Real stress.
âYou don't need to go clinical on me, baby... I'm fine." You mumble, scrubbing your face with one palm,
"I just don't want you to think I'm against you. I'm trying..." you add, your voice cracking to almost a whisper.
Your eyes well with tears before you sharply exhale, trying to stop yourself before they start. James felt the crack in your voice like a knife to the ribs.
He hated that soundâthe one that was reserved for dark rooms, aloneâhe had only heard you like this once, after a fatal pediatric case.
His grip tightenedânot possessive this time, but protective. Like he could physically shield you from everything. And when he felt the heat of unshed tears against his chest? That was it. Game over.
Without speakingâbecause James Ogilvie had spent most of his life being sharp and sarcastic and emotionally stuntedâhe simply pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Then another on top of your hair.
âLetâs just relax tonight. Watch something, I could order food.â James quietly suggested while you nod, going on your toes to kiss his cheek,
âI pick what we watch though, I canât deal with another documentaryâI think you only pick them so I fall asleep.â You giggle while James rolls his eyes with a smirk,
âWhatever, though youâre cute when youâre asleep.â He muses, letting go of you entirely and leading you toward your bedroom.
âYou act like you live here.â You tease, James shrugging,
âI borderline do, I have a toothbrush here now.â He blurts out, causing you to blush and look to your feet. When James and you began to hookup regularly, he would forget his overnight bag every time without failâso now your supposed 'one night stand' has a permanent reminder next to your own toothbrush.
âI guess itâs nice having you around, even if itâs just something small like that. Like youâre meant to be here.â You mutter, James stepping to caress your face again, forcing eye contact. He rubs his thumb along your cheek, almost petting you,
âI like being around.â He whispers, giving a lopsided smile which youâre quick to mirror.
âNow are we showering or what?â He teases, now smirking as you blush,
âA little needy here, huh?â You shake your head with a smile, slipping out of your robe while James stares with zero shame. You reach out to tug at his cotton tee, then patting his chest,
âFor someone raring to go, you still have clothes on.â You purr, pulling your hand away while James quickly undresses, still staring at your bare skin. He folds his clothes and sets them to the side, pulling you in for a hug,
âEverytime I see you, youâre more beautiful than the last,â he whispers in your ear, his hands gently caressing your figure. You melt into him, kissing his collarbone as you whisper back,
âIs that why you get so jealous?â the question is soft, free of judgement as you hold one another. James exhales softly,
âItâs more than that. I⌠I donât know if I want to be casual.â He blurts out, letting you go and stepping back to read your expression. You bite your lip and look away before meeting his gaze again. Your bare bodies on display doesnât compare to the emotions James confesses. You cross your arms over your chest, attempting to cover yourself,
âThen why canât you ever say goodbye? Stay for breakfastâI meanâchrist you donât even get a ride home from me. You canât just flip a switch on me because other people see me.â You reply sharply, walking toward your bathroom. James trails after and scoffs,
âYou think I donât want those things? Iâm avoiding getting attached to you, more than I already am.â He huffs while you turn on the shower, the water spraying from above while you move your hand under the flow.
âDo you really know me though? What if youâre mistaking what you feel, what if itâs all just lust?â You say before stepping into the warm water, the bathroom is already steaming from the heat. James carefully steps in after you, trying to not knock his head. Once standing in front of you, both of you bare, as if nothing has changed. James pulls you closer by the hips,
âI know you fall asleep watching any documentary or when we watch Pixar movies; which, when we watch Up or Monsters Inc, you cry everytime⌠You donât like breakfast food unless itâs from IHOP, at work you always brush hair from patients faces to remind them someone cares. When thereâs too many people walking in opposite directions, you always say âtraffic jam,â with the sweetest smile. You drink tea in the morning and coffee at night⌠You show me how to be a good provider for my patients.â He lists all the little things without hesitation, without a tone of gloating, which you knew was rare for James. You smile and kiss his collarbone again,
âI guess you are a know-it-all, huh?â You whisper, James nodding,
âSomething like that⌠but thereâs still parts of you I want to learn.â He says, reaching to pump shampoo into his hands, scrubbing your scalp. You close your eyes and let James work his fingers, a small whimper leaving your lips. You canât see him behind your eyelids, but you know heâs smirking, especially when he says,
âI love when you make that sound.â He whispers right in your ear, a shiver being sent down your spine despite the hot water. You chuckle and shake your head, letting him rinse the suds away,
âI guess youâre pent up since weâve been apart? I meanâŚâ You smirk back, biting you lip,
âWeâve never done it in the shower.â You say, James nodding while his hands trail down to your hips again,
ok Yay yay! i am going to get French fries . Yall want somethin? A part three ? A 6 pc nugget? Let me know cause Iâm about to pull up. to the Speaker. and I donât want to hold Up the Line.
