🧚‍♀️

tasia | 18 + | 20’s | an f1 blog <3

[lovelytsunoda]

welcome to lovelytsunoda!!

f1 writer and soft smut proprietor! this is an 18+ space! I also write for top gun and off campus!. tom kazansky defender and john tucker’s number one puck bunny <3

formula one masterlist | part II | formula two | former drivers | indycar | top gun masterlist |misc. masterlist | off campus masterlist

[cirrusskylarr]

bugs when you lift up their rock

[lovelytsunoda]

I WANNA WAKE UP WHERE YOU ARE | John Tucker

Summary: The big day is finally here!! (conclusion to Signed Sealed Delivered)

Pairing: John Tucker x Paralegal!Reader

Warnings: Wedding day fluff, YN is trying her best not to be a bridezilla. A small joke about car theft and references to anxiety.

“If someone doesn’t get me a pain au chocolat in the next minute, I will lose my shit!”

“Why didn’t you eat breakfast before you left the house?” Allie scolded, continuing to run a curling iron through her hair. “You’ll get chocolate on your dress.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck, Allie?”

Allie nodded slowly before turning to Eloise. “Eloise, can you go find Tucker?” She asked softly.

Eloise nodded, slipping out of the bridal suite and going to find her future brother in law.

The day of the wedding had snuck up quickly. YN had barely been able to sleep the previous night, tossing and turning while she worried about all the things that could go wrong.

Shamefully, one of those worries was that Tucker would leave her at the altar. Even though she knew he would never do that, it was hard to tamp down the anxiety that the thought brought her.

The door to the bridal suite opened and closed, carrying with it the faint sounds of the playlist from outside, which was being out through a vigorous test drive to triple check that all the timing was perfect.

Tucker placed a paper bakery bag on the counter before wrapping his arms around his wife and meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“Stop worrying, pretty girl. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed the side of her head, and she felt her body relax into his arms.

“If the ceremony isn’t until one, what are we all doing here this early anyways?”

Eloise snorted. “Mom wants pictures.”

“Fucking hell!”

Despite the fact that the ceremony started at 1:00, it was nearly 1:30 before she heard the familiar bars of ‘Slide’, signalling to her and her father that it was time for them to make their entrance.

Her dad reassuringly took her arm, steadily guiding her towards the aisle. While she had been walking too fast during the rehearsal, she now worried that she was walking too slowly. Her feet felt heavy, and she was horrified that she might trip over her delicate white dress.

She knows it sounds cliche, but all the nerves seem to leave her body when she sees Tucker standing at the altar in his white suit, looking like he’s holding himself back from running towards her.

When she was almost at the altar, Tucker stepped down and moved towards her, gently taking her hands in his. Allie ran up behind him, arms outstretched for the bouquet.

“You’re so beautiful.” Tucker said quietly, brushing an errant curl behind her ear. She had forgone the veil, instead tying her hair back with a lacy ribbon to keep her bangs out of her face.

And he meant it. She was breathtaking in a beautiful but inexpensive white dress that highlighted her curves, plastic beads stitched on the fabric sparkling in the light of the hall.

He kissed her forehead before they linked hands, approaching the altar in what was so obviously the opposite of what had been practiced at the rehearsal. She could almost hear her mothers disapproval in her head as she stepped onto the altar with her husband.

As they stood there, she zoned out, thinking about all the things that had brought them here.

“Allie, I’m veering dangerously into spinster territory here.”

“Deans got a friend, I think that you should meet him. Give him a chance.”

“Tucker, how come you’ve never asked me why I decided not to go to law school?”

“Because it’s none of my business. I think you did something brave. You knew what you wanted and you went for it.”

“I’m left with the immortal words of Val Kilmer. My sun rises and sets with you.”

God, she loved that man.

“You may now kiss the bride!”

“Fucking finally.” She mumbled, pulling Tucker in by the tie and pressing her lips to his while the guests cheered and INXS’ ‘What You Need’ began to spill from the speakers.

She felt Tucker beam against her lips, his own curling up into a smile as he lifted her off the ground, spinning them both in a circle before placing her on the ground and pulling her in for another dramatic kiss.

She’d come a long long way from being that scared twenty-two year old who just started her first job out of college and worried that she was falling behind everyone else by losing her twenties to a cubicle. A long way from being that girl who feared her anxiety made her unloveable and that she was destined to end up alone.

“I love you.” She shouted to be hers over the music as she and Tucker made their way down the aisle, fingers laced together and hands linked.

Tucker kissed the side of her head with a breathless laugh as they exited the country club, to where a sleek white Mustang was waiting, the convertible top rolled down.

“I love you.” His voice was soft as they adjusted to the quiet. “Do you like the getaway car? I borrowed it from Dean, who borrowed it from his brother. Not sure he exactly asked though, so let’s try not to get pulled over.”

She wanted nothing more than to rip her new husband’s white suit off his muscular frame and climb into bed with him. Funny how being in love can also make you horny as all hell. The Mustang helped too, if she was being honest.

Unfortunately, the post-wedding quickie was going to have to wait, as the photographer instead on taking a slew of pictures of the happy couple in front of the car.

The reception was also to be held at the country club, and that meant that their triumphant escape in the sports car would have to wait.

But, nothing was going to stop them from stealing a few quiet moments to themselves in the back seat, nestled among the red leather seats, trading soft kisses and laughter while they talked about the exciting new life together that waited ahead.

[lovelytsunoda]

I WANNA WAKE UP WHERE YOU ARE | John Tucker

Summary: The big day is finally here!! (conclusion to Signed Sealed Delivered)

Pairing: John Tucker x Paralegal!Reader

Warnings: Wedding day fluff, YN is trying her best not to be a bridezilla. A small joke about car theft and references to anxiety.

“If someone doesn’t get me a pain au chocolat in the next minute, I will lose my shit!”

“Why didn’t you eat breakfast before you left the house?” Allie scolded, continuing to run a curling iron through her hair. “You’ll get chocolate on your dress.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck, Allie?”

Allie nodded slowly before turning to Eloise. “Eloise, can you go find Tucker?” She asked softly.

Eloise nodded, slipping out of the bridal suite and going to find her future brother in law.

The day of the wedding had snuck up quickly. YN had barely been able to sleep the previous night, tossing and turning while she worried about all the things that could go wrong.

Shamefully, one of those worries was that Tucker would leave her at the altar. Even though she knew he would never do that, it was hard to tamp down the anxiety that the thought brought her.

The door to the bridal suite opened and closed, carrying with it the faint sounds of the playlist from outside, which was being out through a vigorous test drive to triple check that all the timing was perfect.

Tucker placed a paper bakery bag on the counter before wrapping his arms around his wife and meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“Stop worrying, pretty girl. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed the side of her head, and she felt her body relax into his arms.

“If the ceremony isn’t until one, what are we all doing here this early anyways?”

Eloise snorted. “Mom wants pictures.”

“Fucking hell!”

Despite the fact that the ceremony started at 1:00, it was nearly 1:30 before she heard the familiar bars of ‘Slide’, signalling to her and her father that it was time for them to make their entrance.

Her dad reassuringly took her arm, steadily guiding her towards the aisle. While she had been walking too fast during the rehearsal, she now worried that she was walking too slowly. Her feet felt heavy, and she was horrified that she might trip over her delicate white dress.

She knows it sounds cliche, but all the nerves seem to leave her body when she sees Tucker standing at the altar in his white suit, looking like he’s holding himself back from running towards her.

When she was almost at the altar, Tucker stepped down and moved towards her, gently taking her hands in his. Allie ran up behind him, arms outstretched for the bouquet.

“You’re so beautiful.” Tucker said quietly, brushing an errant curl behind her ear. She had forgone the veil, instead tying her hair back with a lacy ribbon to keep her bangs out of her face.

And he meant it. She was breathtaking in a beautiful but inexpensive white dress that highlighted her curves, plastic beads stitched on the fabric sparkling in the light of the hall.

He kissed her forehead before they linked hands, approaching the altar in what was so obviously the opposite of what had been practiced at the rehearsal. She could almost hear her mothers disapproval in her head as she stepped onto the altar with her husband.

As they stood there, she zoned out, thinking about all the things that had brought them here.

“Allie, I’m veering dangerously into spinster territory here.”

“Deans got a friend, I think that you should meet him. Give him a chance.”

“Tucker, how come you’ve never asked me why I decided not to go to law school?”

“Because it’s none of my business. I think you did something brave. You knew what you wanted and you went for it.”

“I’m left with the immortal words of Val Kilmer. My sun rises and sets with you.”

God, she loved that man.

“You may now kiss the bride!”

“Fucking finally.” She mumbled, pulling Tucker in by the tie and pressing her lips to his while the guests cheered and INXS’ ‘What You Need’ began to spill from the speakers.

She felt Tucker beam against her lips, his own curling up into a smile as he lifted her off the ground, spinning them both in a circle before placing her on the ground and pulling her in for another dramatic kiss.

She’d come a long long way from being that scared twenty-two year old who just started her first job out of college and worried that she was falling behind everyone else by losing her twenties to a cubicle. A long way from being that girl who feared her anxiety made her unloveable and that she was destined to end up alone.

“I love you.” She shouted to be hers over the music as she and Tucker made their way down the aisle, fingers laced together and hands linked.

Tucker kissed the side of her head with a breathless laugh as they exited the country club, to where a sleek white Mustang was waiting, the convertible top rolled down.

“I love you.” His voice was soft as they adjusted to the quiet. “Do you like the getaway car? I borrowed it from Dean, who borrowed it from his brother. Not sure he exactly asked though, so let’s try not to get pulled over.”

She wanted nothing more than to rip her new husband’s white suit off his muscular frame and climb into bed with him. Funny how being in love can also make you horny as all hell. The Mustang helped too, if she was being honest.

Unfortunately, the post-wedding quickie was going to have to wait, as the photographer instead on taking a slew of pictures of the happy couple in front of the car.

The reception was also to be held at the country club, and that meant that their triumphant escape in the sports car would have to wait.

But, nothing was going to stop them from stealing a few quiet moments to themselves in the back seat, nestled among the red leather seats, trading soft kisses and laughter while they talked about the exciting new life together that waited ahead.

[somnidasha]

"people who celebrate tweets anniversaries are annoying" fuck this and happy "i understand that without my agreement..." anniversary to everyone who celebrates

[megryan]

poppy. i messed up, okay? whatever we are, whatever this is, i asked too much of you. friends shouldn’t ask that much of each other. i don’t wanna be your fucking friend, poppy. i want you. but you, you don’t know what you want. you never have. i want you too. you don’t mean that. don’t tell me what i mean. why do you think i’m here? because i love you. since when? probably always.

[jellycatsdaily]

Jellycat of the Day | 5th August 2026

↳ Fluffy Octopus | 2023 Retired Design

“Mini hugs, and plenty of them!”

[lvthkllr]

This off campus cast drama is a good reminder that we don’t know ANYBODY’S personal political ideologies.

No amount of Instagram likes/posts will make me think that I do know this info because I don’t know these people and you would all do well to remember the same.

[garrettgrahamswhore]

DEVELOPING FEELINGS

PAIRING — john tucker x girlfriend!reader

SUMMARY — Seven days apart shouldn’t feel this impossible. But when John starts finding the Polaroids you’ve hidden just for him, missing you becomes a little harder—and wanting you becomes impossible to ignore.

WARNINGS — 18+, nsfw, smut, sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink, light d/s dynamics, ligh dom!tucker, teasing, established relationship. 

author note: this request has been waiting in my inbox for a while, and i’m so glad i finally got to write it! i hope you enjoy reading it. 🤍 i purposely left out their reunion because i couldn’t resist the idea of making it a part 2… so let me know if that’s something you’d like to read! 👀 as for the taglist, i’m not using it for now. i want to see how far my posts reach on their own, and i also think it’s time to refresh my taglists since some haven’t been very active lately. i’ll revisit everything soon. thank you for always being here. i love you. ♡

(NAVIGATION) |(MASTERLIST) | (ULTIMATE MASTERLIST)

John Tucker had gotten used to missing you.

At least, that was the lie he told himself on Monday morning, standing barefoot in the middle of his room with his toothbrush still in his mouth, staring at your side of the bed after it had been empty for two nights.

He was used to early practices, away weekends, and you stealing his hoodies before disappearing into your own schedule for hours at a time. He was used to sharing you with classes, friends, errands, family—with all the small, ordinary things that pulled at both of your lives.

But this felt different.

A whole week. Seven full days with you gone, back home for some family thing you'd sworn would be boring—even though you'd kissed him at the door like you knew exactly what kind of damage you were leaving behind. 

You'd smiled against his mouth and whispered, "Be good while I'm gone."

Tucker had rolled his eyes. "I'm always good."

Your hand had slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, your palm warm against his stomach. "That's not what I meant."

And then you were gone.

Now, two days later, Tucker stood in his room, already late for class, trying not to think about the fact that his bed still smelled like your shampoo.

He grabbed his wallet from the dresser and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans, only to freeze.

Something peeked out from the fold—not cash, not a receipt, and not the coffee punch card you kept stealing from him because, apparently, his stamps counted as communal property.

A glossy white square.

Tucker frowned, pulled it free, and stopped breathing.

A Polaroid.

You.

Not your whole face, not enough for anyone else to know—but enough for Tucker. Just the curve of your mouth, your lips parted around the hem of his old gray Briar Hockey T-shirt as your teeth tugged it up, revealing the bare line of your waist and the lace sitting low on your hips.

Black lace, of course.

His favorite.

Along the white border at the bottom, you'd written in your familiar, messy handwriting:

Miss me yet? ♥︎

Tucker stared at it for ten solid seconds before glancing toward his closed bedroom door, as if one of the guys might somehow sense what he'd found through the wall.

"Fuck," he mumbled around the toothbrush.

His phone buzzed against the dresser.

You: tell me you found one

You: before you start worrying, those are for your eyes only 

You: I hid them where only you'd think to look 

You: so maybe don't let anyone dig through your stuff, John

Tucker's thumb was moving before his brain had fully caught up.

Tucker: You put a half-naked picture of yourself in my wallet?

You: half? that's disappointing. I'll have to do better next time.

Tucker: You're unbelievable.

You: I think you misspelled thoughtful.

Tucker: I'm supposed to go to class with this in my pocket?

You: good.

Tucker: Good?

You: yeah. think about me.

He did. 

Through the entire econ lecture, Tucker thought about you.

He thought about the smug little smile you were probably wearing miles away, knowing he was sitting in a lecture hall with your body tucked behind his driver's license. He thought about the black lace hugging your thighs, the way you looked in his shirt, and the way you always played innocent when you knew exactly what you were doing.

By the time class ended, Tucker had barely managed to fill half a page with notes, and by lunchtime, he'd already pulled the Polaroid out three more times—always somewhere no one else could see.

His truck. A bathroom stall. The empty hallway outside the athletic offices.

Each time, his jaw clenched a little harder. Each time, he told himself he wasn't going to react like some horny teenager.

And each time, he failed miserably.

That night, after practice, Tucker found the second one.

You'd tucked it inside his textbook.

He found it at his desk later, freshly showered and dressed in sweats, his hair still damp and a highlighter uncapped between his fingers. When he opened to the chapter he'd marked with a sticky note, the Polaroid slipped out onto his notes.

This one was worse.

So much worse.

You were stretched out across his bed, surrounded by things he recognized instantly: the navy sheets, the pillow you always curled around in your sleep, the corner of his headboard behind you. You'd clearly taken it before you left, probably while he was at morning skate, which meant you'd been there alone, in his bed, planning all of this.

Your knees were spread just enough to send heat rushing through him.

Still no full face. Only your mouth, your throat, and the soft curve of your breasts mostly hidden behind your arms. Your panties were visible this time, thin and dark and stretched over you in a way that made Tucker's grip tighten around the Polaroid.

Along the border:

Study hard ♥︎

A low, disbelieving laugh slipped out of Tucker as he reached for his phone.

Tucker: You're actually evil.

You: which one did you find?

Tucker: The textbook.

You: oh good. educational.

Tucker: You expect me to study with this sitting in front of me?

You: you're smart. multitask.

Tucker: Baby.

You: yes?

Tucker: You're so in trouble.

You left him hanging for a full minute before his phone finally buzzed again.

Another photo.

Not another Polaroid this time. Fresh. Slightly blurred, like you'd taken it in a hurry in the childhood bedroom where he knew you were staying, your shirt pushed up and one hand covering your chest—barely hiding anything and somehow making the whole thing worse. At the bottom of the frame, your mouth curved into a smile.

You: am I?

Tucker leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand over his mouth.

His room had gone quiet.

Beyond the door, the house was still loud—the guys shouting about something downstairs, music thumping faintly through the floor. But inside his bedroom, all Tucker could hear was his own breathing.

He typed something, deleted it, then tried again.

Tucker: Lock the door.

You: already locked.

Tucker: Good girl.

Tucker: Because I'm about to tell you exactly what I'd do to you if I were there.

You answered almost instantly.

You: please.

Tucker's gaze went dark. 

He looked back at the Polaroid—at your thighs spread across his bed, at the taunt scrawled in your handwriting.

Then he started typing.

Not rushed. Not careless. He took his time, because he knew you. Knew how easily his words got under your skin when they came from him. Knew how much you loved it when he stopped being the sweet, patient boyfriend everyone else saw and let that rougher side of him show.

Tucker: I'd put you right back on my bed, exactly like that.

Tucker: Same panties. Same shirt.

Tucker: Except I'd make you keep your hands above your head.

Tucker: No touching until I told you to.

The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then came back again.

You: john.

Tucker: Already getting worked up?

You: maybe a little

Tucker: Try again.

You: yes.

Tucker: That's my girl

Nearly a full minute passed before you answered, and when you finally did, it was with another picture.

This one was darker.

Lower.

Your panties had been tugged slightly to the side, just enough to make Tucker's breath catch before it left him in a sharp, quiet curse.

You: am I allowed to do that?

Tucker shot to his feet so fast that his chair rolled back and knocked into the bed. He crossed the room, locked his bedroom door, and sent you a picture back—not fully explicit yet, just his hand low on his abdomen, the waistband of his sweats tugged down enough to reveal the sharp V of his hips and the dark trail beneath his navel. Enough to answer your question. Enough to show you exactly what you were doing to him.

Tucker: Keep going, and you'll find out.

By Wednesday, Tucker didn't trust anything he owned. He checked the pockets of his jacket before leaving the house, opened his laptop carefully, and flipped through his notebooks like they might go off in his hands. You'd turned his entire life into a minefield of temptation, and the worst part was that he loved every second of it.

He loved the anticipation. Loved wondering where the next glimpse of you would turn up. Loved knowing you'd been thinking of him every time you hid one, imagining the exact moment he'd find it. Loved knowing every photo was a deliberate little piece of torture disguised as affection.

The third one was waiting beneath his pillow.

He found it after a long day, exhausted from practice and sore everywhere, wanting nothing more than to collapse face-first into bed—only for his hand to slip beneath the pillow and brush against glossy paper.

Tucker closed his eyes for a second.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

This one was softer, which somehow made it feel even filthier.

You were curled up on his bed wearing nothing but one of his sweatshirts, your bare legs tucked beneath you and the hem riding high over your thighs. The picture cut off at your neck, one hand settled between your legs over the fabric, your fingers pressing just enough for Tucker's imagination to do the rest.

Along the border, you'd written:

Your side of the bed feels empty 

His chest tightened before anything else.

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding the Polaroid carefully between his fingers.

For all the teasing, all the heat, there it was—the reason the photos worked so well. Not because they were dirty, though they definitely were. Not because you knew exactly how to drive him out of his mind, though you absolutely did. 

Because he missed you. 

Because every picture said, I know you. I know exactly where you'll look. I know what will make you laugh, what will make you ache, and what will make you need me.

His phone buzzed against the mattress.

You: did you find another one?

Tucker: Under the pillow

You: that one's my favorite.

Tucker: Is it?

You: yeah. I was missing you before I even walked out the door.

Tucker's throat tightened.

Tucker: I miss you too, baby

You: don't get all sweet on me now. I'm supposed to be seducing you

Tucker: You're allowed to do both

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then your next message came through. 

You: show me how much you miss me

Tucker let out a slow breath.

This time, he didn't tease you back. He pulled his shirt off, tossed it toward the hamper, and settled against the headboard before taking the photo carefully, deliberately: one hand curled around himself over his sweats, the outline impossible to miss, his stomach drawn tight, and the Polaroid you'd left positioned beside his thigh so you could see it in the frame.

Your reply came almost immediately.

You: fuck.

You: john.

Tucker: You did this

You: I know

Tucker: Are you wet for me?

You: yes

Tucker: Use your words.

The typing bubble lingered on-screen before your answer finally came through.

You: I'm already wet for you.

Tucker: Where are you right now?

You: in bed. door's locked

Tucker: Is your hand between your legs?

You: not unless you tell me to

Tucker: Don't lie to me.

You: ...over my shorts

Tucker: That's what I figured

He pictured you instantly: tucked into bed miles away, your phone glowing in your hand, your thighs pressing together as you waited for whatever he'd tell you next.

Tucker was good at being patient.

Usually.

With you, patience felt less like restraint and more like strategy.

Tucker: Don't take your shorts off yet

You: john...

Tucker: You wanted to tease me all week. Now you're going to listen.

You: okay

Tucker: Good. Over your shorts. Slowly. 

Your reply came back in pieces.

You: you're mean

Tucker: No

Tucker: Mean would be telling you to stop

The next photo came through shaky with the tremor in your hand. Your hand was right where he'd told you to put it, pressed between your thighs over the thin fabric of your sleep shorts. The angle caught the bare stretch of your stomach, your shirt pushed up, your breathing visible in the slight motion of the frame.

Tucker's grip tightened around himself.

Tucker: Fuck, baby

Tucker: God, look at you

Tucker: Doing exactly what I told you

Then a voice message appeared, only three seconds long—just his name, whispered like you were trying not to be heard.

It ruined him.

Tucker played it twice, then a third time, his jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Then he called, and you picked up on the second ring.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. All Tucker could hear was your breathing on the other end—soft, uneven.

"Hi," you breathed.

Tucker's mouth curved despite himself. "Hi?"

A breathless laugh slipped out of you. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." Tucker shifted on the bed, his gaze dropping back to the Polaroid beside him. "I just think it's cute how bold you get behind a camera, and then I get you on the phone, and suddenly you're shy."

"I'm not shy," you protested.

"No?" His voice dropped. "Then tell me what you're doing right now."

Silence answered him, followed by the soft rustle of sheets.

"My hand's still where you told me to put it."

"Still over your shorts?" he checked, voice low.

"Yes," you breathed.

"Are you pressing down for me?" Tucker's voice roughened.

"A little," you admitted, voice barely there.

"Does that feel good?" His voice stayed low, controlled.

You drew in a soft breath. "Not enough."

Tucker squeezed his eyes shut. God, he loved that—the frustration threaded through your voice, the fact that after teasing him all week, you were the one needy now, waiting for permission.

Tucker's voice softened into something cruelly sweet. "Poor baby. You've been teasing me from hundreds of miles away, and now you need me to help you?"

"You like helping me," you whispered.

"I love it," Tucker rasped, his hand sliding beneath the waistband of his sweats. "I love every single picture you left me. I love knowing you were in my room thinking about me. On my bed, spreading your legs for the camera because you knew I'd lose my fucking mind."

Your breath caught.

Tucker's voice dipped, satisfied. "There she's. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? For me to find them and spend the whole week thinking about this?"

"Yes," you breathed.

"Wanted me sitting in class hard because of you?"

"Yes," you admitted, voice shaking.

"Wanted me opening my wallet like an idiot, trying to buy coffee, only to find you half naked behind my license?"

You laughed, but it broke at the end into a small, helpless sound that sent heat curling low in his stomach.

"I almost forgot about that one," you confessed.

"I definitely didn't," Tucker answered.

"No?" you breathed.

"Not even a little." Tucker stroked himself once, slow, biting back the groan that tried to slip out. "I thought about it all day. Thought about that black lace. Thought about pushing my shirt up the rest of the way and putting my mouth on you."

"Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Tucker rasped. "Oh."

The silence between you grew heavy before you finally whispered, "Can I take them off now?"

Tucker's grip tightened around himself. "Ask me properly."

A frustrated little sound slipped out of you. "John, please."

"Ask," Tucker said, voice low and unyielding.

"Please," you breathed. "Can I take my shorts off?"

Tucker's eyes slipped shut. "Yes. Keep your panties on."

He listened as you moved—the soft kick of fabric, the rustle of sheets, the little exhale you gave when you settled back into place.

"What color are they?" Tucker rasped.

"White," you answered, voice thin.

A groan slipped out of Tucker. "Fuck."

"You like them?" you asked softly.

"You know I love them."

"I put them on because I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Tucker let out a low, strained laugh. "You're trying to kill me."

"Maybe," you teased.

"Touch yourself over them," Tucker ordered softly.

You obeyed, and he could hear it in your breathing—in the way your next inhale came out shaky.

Tucker's voice cut in, low and firm. "Slow."

"I'm," you breathed.

"Don't lie to me," Tucker warned, his voice rough.

"I'm trying," you whispered.

"That's better," he praised, voice rough with restraint.

For a few minutes, Tucker only listened. There was something obscene about it, something so intimate it made his skin feel too tight. The distance should have made it feel less intense, but instead, it sharpened everything: every breath, every sigh, every slick little sound you tried to muffle against your pillow.

Tucker's voice cut through the line, rough and quiet. "Don't muffle yourself."

"I need to be quiet," you whispered.

"I know," Tucker rasped. "But I still want to hear you."

"You're impossible," you whispered.

"I'm your boyfriend," Tucker reminded you, his voice warming. "I'm allowed."

"You're so bossy," you breathed.

"You love it when I'm bossy."

You didn't answer, and Tucker smiled to himself.

"Yeah," he murmured. "That's what I thought."

Your voice softened. "Are you touching yourself too?"

Tucker glanced down at his hand wrapped around his cock, his sweats pushed low, his body tense and overheated in the dim light of his bedroom.

"Yeah," Tucker rasped.

"Can I see you?" you asked softly.

Tucker pulled the phone from his ear and switched the call to video.

The video took a second to connect. Then your face filled his screen, flushed and soft in the glow of your bedroom lamp, your hair messy, your eyes bright, your lower lip caught between your teeth.

For a moment, Tucker forgot how to breathe.

"Hi," you whispered again.

His expression softened before he could stop it. "Hi, baby."

Your eyes dropped lower, and Tucker tilted the phone down, watching your reaction unfold—the parting of your lips, the way your pupils widened, the way your hand shifted beneath the sheets.

"Fuck," you breathed.

Tucker's grip tightened around himself. "Yeah?"

You nodded, unable to look away.

He stroked himself slowly, letting you watch the movement of his hand, the flushed head of his cock sliding through his grip. Your expression shifted at once, desire leaving you almost dazed.

Tucker kept his eyes on yours. "That's what you did to me. All week."

Your eyes stayed on his hand. "I wish I were there."

Tucker's eyes lifted back to yours. "Tomorrow, you'll be."

"Tomorrow feels too far away."

"I know," Tucker answered, softer this time.

Beneath the blanket, your hand moved.

Tucker's focus snapped back to you. "Show me."

Your eyes snapped back to his. "What?"

Tucker's gaze didn't move from yours. "Move the blanket."

"John..."

"Just for me," Tucker coaxed, gentler now. "Door's locked?"

"Yes," you assured him.

"And you're alone?"

You nodded once. "Yes."

Tucker's voice softened, but the command stayed there. "Then let me see, baby."

You hesitated for a second before pushing the blanket down.

A curse slipped out of Tucker before he could stop it. You were spread out on the bed in nothing but your shirt and those white panties, thighs parted, fingers moving in slow circles over the damp fabric. The sight hit him hard, his hips jerking into his hand before he could control it.

Tucker's jaw went slack. "Jesus, sweetheart."

Color rose higher in your cheeks. "Don't stare."

"I'm going to stare." Tucker's eyes stayed locked on you. "You don't get to send me Polaroids all week and then tell me not to look."

Your laugh broke into a moan as your fingers pressed down harder.

Tucker's focus narrowed on the movement of your hand. "That's it. Right there?"

You nodded fast, too worked up to trust your voice.

Tucker didn't let you off that easy. "Use your words."

"Yes," you managed. "Right there."

Tucker's expression went dark with approval. "Good girl."

Your eyelids fluttered, and Tucker caught it immediately.

Tucker's mouth curved. "Oh, you liked that."

"Shut up," you protested, breathless.

Tucker's smile turned filthy. "No. You love when I call you that."

A soft whine slipped out of you, your hips lifting into your own hand.

Tucker's smile held, dark and knowing. "You do. My good girl. My pretty girl. Lying there touching herself because I told her to."

His name slipped out of you, shaky and desperate. "Tuck."

Tucker went still for half a second. "Say my name like that again."

"Tuck," you repeated, your voice breaking around his name.

A rough sound broke out of him as his hand moved faster. "Fuck, I miss you."

"I miss you too," you whispered back.

Tucker's gaze stayed locked on you. "Pull your panties to the side."

Your hand stilled.

His expression softened. "Only if you want to."

"I want to," you told him, softer now.

Tucker held your gaze. "Then do it."

You hooked your fingers beneath the edge of the fabric and pulled it aside.

For one suspended second, neither of you spoke, and Tucker's mouth went dry.

You were wet, glistening and swollen and perfect, your fingers sliding through yourself in one slow, nervous stroke while you watched his face on the screen.

Tucker's restraint snapped a little more. "Touch your clit."

Your fingers moved exactly where he told you, and your body lifted into the touch, a soft cry catching in your throat.

Tucker watched you like he couldn't decide whether to worship you or ruin you. "There you go. That's my girl. Keep your legs open for me."

Your thighs trembled, but you kept them open. "They're."

"Wider," Tucker ordered.

You obeyed, thighs spreading wider beneath his gaze.

His hand picked up speed.

"Fuck, I wish that was my mouth." His hand moved faster as his eyes stayed fixed on you. "I'd keep you there until you forgot how to stay quiet. I'd lick you until you were shaking, until your hands were in my hair and you were begging me to let you come."

Your fingers moved faster.

Tucker's gaze sharpened. "Not yet."

A needy sound slipped out of you. "Tuck."

"Not yet," Tucker repeated, firmer this time.

"I can't hold it," you choked out.

"You can," Tucker said, slowing his own hand just to prove the point, even though it nearly killed him. "You made me wait all week. You can wait a few more minutes."

A broken little sound caught in your throat. "You're so mean."

"I know." Tucker's smile flickered. "And you like it."

"I do," you admitted, breathless.

The confession came out small and ruined, and Tucker felt it land in his chest.

Tucker's grip eased for half a second. "Yeah, baby. I know you do."

You watched him, breathing hard, your fingers moving in tight, slick circles. Tucker watched every bit of it—the tense pull of your stomach, the tremble in your thighs, the way your face shifted every time you got too close and forced yourself back.

It was the hottest thing Tucker had ever seen.

No, that wasn't true.

Having you in his bed tomorrow would be hotter—you beneath him, wrapped around him, laughing into his mouth because he wouldn't be able to stop touching you long enough for either of you to breathe.

But tonight, this was what he had, so Tucker took what he could get.

Tucker kept his eyes on yours. "Keep one hand on your clit. With the other, touch yourself lower."

Your eyes went wide at the command.

"Tuck—"

Tucker didn't look away. "I want to see how wet you're for me."

The sound that slipped out of you hit him low and hard, and then your other hand drifted lower.

Slowly, you dragged two fingers through your wetness, gathering it there before easing one inside yourself.

Tucker's mouth fell open.

"Fuck," he breathed.

A moan slipped out of you as your head tipped back.

Tucker's focus sharpened. "Look at me."

You forced your eyes open and found his through the screen.

Tucker's hand stuttered over himself. "That's it. That's it, baby. Add another."

You obeyed, and the sound you made almost undid him.

Tucker worked himself harder now, rougher, matching the rhythm of your fingers moving inside you. He could see how slick they were, could see the way your body took them, the way your hips lifted like you needed more.

Tucker's voice came out rough and uneven. "Wish it were me?"

Your voice broke around the answer. "Yes."

"Wish I were there filling you up?"

"Yes, please," you begged.

A broken sound tore out of him. "God, I love when you beg."

"I need you," you said, voice breaking.

"Tomorrow, baby. You'll have me tomorrow."

"I need you now," you pleaded.

"I know." His thumb dragged over the head of his cock, pleasure sparking hot up his spine. "I know, sweetheart. You're doing so good for me."

Your eyes fell shut.

Tucker's voice broke rough through the screen. "Don't stop."

"I'm close," you whispered.

Tucker's eyes stayed fixed on you. "I know."

Your voice broke around the word. "Please."

Tucker watched you tremble, watched your fingers quicken, watched your chest rise and fall with sharp, desperate breaths.

He wanted to make you wait. Wanted to drag it out until you were cursing him, begging for him, so far gone you forgot you'd ever been shy.

But he missed you too much. You looked too perfect like this, and your voice—soft and needy through the phone—had stripped him bare.

Tucker's control snapped. "Come for me. Let me see you."

That was all it took.

Your body seized first, thighs trembling as your fingers kept working you through it, your mouth falling open around a soundless cry. Then your voice caught up—his name spilling out in a shaky rush, again and again, like it was the only word left in your head.

Tucker came seconds later.

Tucker came seconds later, hard and helpless, his hand tightening around his cock as he watched you fall apart. Pleasure slammed through him until his head fell back against the headboard and your name left him in a low, ruined groan.

For a while, neither of you said anything. There was only breathing.

Darkness pressed in around his room.

On-screen, your face had gone soft and sleepy, your cheeks flushed and your lips curved in a small, satisfied smile.

Tucker reached unquestioningly for a tissue on the nightstand, cleaned himself up awkwardly without ending the call, and looked back just in time to catch you giggling.

Tucker looked back at you, still catching his breath. "What?"

"You're cute," you said, smiling at him through the screen.

Tucker shot you a look. "I just came on camera for you, and cute is what you're going with?"

"You can be both," you said, still smiling.

A tired, warm laugh slipped out of him. "Yeah?"

Your smile softened. "Yeah."

You pulled the blanket back over yourself and tucked it beneath your chin while Tucker settled lower against his pillows, the phone propped on his chest so he could keep looking at you.

"You know," Tucker said, eyes still on you, "I'm going to find every single one before you get back."

That wicked little smile came back.

Tucker narrowed his eyes. "How many are left?"

"I'm not telling you," you said, still smiling.

"Baby," Tucker warned.

"Nope," you replied, entirely too pleased with yourself.

"Giving me a number would be the nice thing to do."

"You don't like me because I'm nice."

"That's not true." Tucker's voice softened. "I like you because you're you."

For a second, all the teasing fell away, and your expression shifted, tenderness breaking through the heat.

"I love you," you said softly.

Tucker felt it ache in his chest.

"I love you too," Tucker said, soft and sure.

A smile tugged at your mouth. "Even when I hide dirty Polaroids in your stuff?"

"Especially then," Tucker said, smiling now.

Your laugh came out sleepy now.

He watched you yawn and tried not to think about the fact that tomorrow, you'd be back in his bed for real. Not in a picture. Not as a voice through the phone. Not through a shaky video call with his imagination filling in the rest.

Just you.

Warm and laughing and probably smug as hell when he showed you the stack of Polaroids he'd collected like evidence.

"You should get some sleep," Tucker said gently.

"So should you," you murmured.

"I'll," Tucker promised.

"You're lying," you accused softly.

"Probably," Tucker admitted.

Your eyes narrowed. "Don't go looking for the rest tonight."

Tucker looked far too innocent. "I would never."

"John Tucker," you warned.

Tucker grinned.

You pointed at the camera. "Don't you dare."

Tucker's grin only widened. "I won't."

"You're still lying," you accused, though your smile gave you away.

"Maybe," Tucker allowed, looking entirely unrepentant.

You shook your head, still smiling. "Goodnight, Tuck."

"Goodnight, baby," Tucker said, his voice warm through the screen.

Neither of you ended the call right away. For a few quiet seconds, you looked at each other through the screen, tired and sated and still missing each other.

Then, just before the call ended, you added, "Check your sports bag before practice tomorrow."

The screen went dark, and Tucker stared down at his phone for a second before laughing, dropping his head back against the pillow, and dragging a hand over his face.

"Fuck," he muttered, still smiling.

Tomorrow suddenly felt impossibly far away.

minors do not interact with 18+ content. do not repost, copy, translate, or feed my work into ai.

[lovelytsunoda]

IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY | John Tucker

Summary: At the rehearsal dinner, YN finally snaps after receiving unwanted test results from her doctor.

Pairing: John Tucker x Paralegal!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a false positive on a pregnancy test, pre-wedding jitters, Tucker being the worlds bestest husband <3

“You doing okay, kiddo? If you’ve changed your mind, it’s not too late to run.”

“I’m sure, Dad. Tuck is the man for me.” She smiled, linking her arm with her dads, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The rehearsal had been nerve wracking. Her mother was a perfectionist, and had spent the last hour pointing out anything that was even remotely out of place. Her chest was tight, and in the back of her mind was a lingering paranoia about the test results she was supposed to be getting back.

About what a positive would mean for her and Tucker.

“David, you guys are walking too fast! You’re not supposed to be at the isle until the words start!” Charlotte YLN called from the altar, where she was scrutinizing every aspect of the rehearsal. “Can we try that again please?”

YN cursed under her breath, and her dad started to laugh. “What’s your mother like?”

“She’s driving me nuts, Dad! Can’t you do something?”

They waited in the hallway until the music started, an acoustic rendition of “Slide” by the Goo Goo Dolls, the song that had been playing when Tucker proposed.

They walked slower this time, pacing just so that the lyrics began to kick in as they were coming up the isle and walking towards the aisle. The song faded out during the chorus, as David handed his daughter off to her husband-to-be.

Tucker reached for her hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “How are you feeling?”

“Stressed.” She answered honestly. “If my mom makes us start from the beginning again, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“YN YLN, I heard that!” Her mom shouted from somewhere in the sea of chairs they had spent an hour setting up.

“It’s YN Tucker now, mom!”

Over the next hour, she slowly felt her patience wearing thin. Between her moms corrections, and the officiant’s speech, she found herself starting to get agitated, declining to practice her vows simply because she wants out of the Hastings Links Country Club, and out of her tight stilettos and wearing pajamas in from if the TV.

They couldn’t even afford the country club as a venue. Not under the wight of all their other expenses. At least, not until Wayne, who golfed there regularly, offered to talk to the manager about a friends and family rate. He had considered it an early wedding present for one of his star employees.

Tucker, who hadn’t taken his eyes off his bride the entire rehearsal, noticed that she was getting anxious, that her breathing was laboured, and immediately interrupted the rehearsal.

“Guys, can we take five? Just a quick break, and then we can practice the speech and the walkout.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” YN agreed. She gathered up the skirt of her long, flowy blue sundress, making sure that it didn’t get caught under her shoes as she stepped off the altar, walking as quickly as she could out of the room.

Her phone was in the bridal suite, next to the garment bag that held her wedding dress. She pulled out of her purse with shaky hands, heart stopping when she saw she had a new email from the doctors office.

The door to the bridal suite opened , and she could hear her sister Eloise calling for her.

“YN? Mom wanted me to see if you were okay. You tore out of there really fast.”

But she didn’t even hear Eloise’s questions, too busy rereading the same line of the email.

Patient is not pregnant.

She felt her lungs seize as the ringing in her ears began, and she knew she needed to get out. She pushed past Eloise without a word, bypassing the rehearsal guests as she made her way to the deck, collapsing on to the patio furniture with an ugly cry.

She’d forgotten how badly she wanted to be pregnant until the chance was ripped from her a second time.

Her eyes were puffy and red by the time Tucker found her, wordlessly sitting next to her in the outdoor couch. He undid the straps on her He undid the straps on her stilettos, gently rubbing her sore feet. She knew she wasn’t going to ask what was wrong. He never did. Just made her feel comfortable until she was ready to open up.

“I took a pregnancy test the other day.” She started, swallowing before her voice cracked. “It was another false positive, Tuck. I’m not pregnant.”

Tucker’s heart dropped, and he reached for her hand, trying not to show how disappointed he was. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. We knew from last time that it was going to take time.”

“Garrett and Hannah made it look so easy.” She cried, remembering how Hannah had gotten pregnant with Gigi less than a year after she and Garrett had gotten married. “Why can’t I do it, Tucker? Why can’t I get pregnant?”

She was crying again, hot tears of frustration streaming down her face. She felt like such a failure. She was getting married late, she’d be having kids late. Why couldn’t she ever do anything on time?

“Oh, honey.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not marrying you based on your ability to have children. I’m marrying you because you’re the woman I want to wake up next to every morning, the one I want to see the world with. I’ve loved every moment of our life together so far, and I’ll love every one that comes next.” He kissed her forehead softly, hand rubbing up and down her back. “And when we’re back from Alaska, let’s go see that fertility specialist Allie recommended.”

She raised her head. “You really mean that?” She asked hopefully.

“Of course I do.

Her heart melted. She didn’t deserve this man. He was way too good for her.

“Let’s go home and watch trashy tv until we fall asleep in each others arms.” Tucker suggested, scooping her up in his arms. “They won’t miss us.”

She snorted, thinking of her mother, who was likely inside the country club barking directions at people. “My mother will kill us.”

“And then we get married in heaven with Chris Cornell as the officiant. I see nothing wrong with that.”

“I love you.” She said softly, tracing the line of his jaw.

“I love you, too.” John said quietly, kissing her softly.

Yeah. She was in love with this man. She knew she’d picked the right one, and she couldn’t wait to start a family with him.

[jetix]

Valais Blacknose Sheep, 2024-04-27

[se7entyrell]

hello my angel i’m here to please request a mood board for john tucker with his film student girl where she hears his name and thinks he’s making some sort of reference to the movie john tucker must die <3333 and he thinks she’s trying to k word him

You've never been a huge party girl, with one single exception.

Halloween.

It's your favourite time of year - if only to allow you to scope out some new friends around campus, based off of whether they understand your costume or not.

This year, you've gone pretty mainstream - Carrie. While you're not exactly a Sissy Spacek lookalike, you're hoping the blood and prom dress gives it away. Unfortunately, you've had more people asking if you're Olivia Rodrigo than anything else.

"Olivia doesn't even have blood on her.... nevermind-"

What you're not expecting, is to be approached by a guy who you can only assume is on the hockey or football team.

"John Tucker," he says, and you smile initially. John Tucker Must Die is one of your guilty pleasure movies - and it's more ball knowledge than most jocks, who think that Interstellar is the peak of indie filmmaking.

Taking in his costume, you're not quite sure how it lines up with the movie, but effort is better than nothing, right? "Oh, John Tucker Must Die! Nice!"

At this, the guy's expression shifts, brow furrowing in confusion. "I must die? What?"

You realise in horror that he has no idea what you're talking about. "You know... the movie? Sophia Bush, Arielle Kebbell...?"

God, you're just digging yourself into more of a hole. The Carrie costume is certainly appropriate, given how much of a social outcast you're about to be.

Instead, the very handsome jock just grins. "Babe, my name's John Tucker. Was just tryin' to introduce myself to a pretty girl."

Oh.

Oh.

[lovelytsunoda]

IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY | John Tucker

Summary: At the rehearsal dinner, YN finally snaps after receiving unwanted test results from her doctor.

Pairing: John Tucker x Paralegal!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a false positive on a pregnancy test, pre-wedding jitters, Tucker being the worlds bestest husband <3

“You doing okay, kiddo? If you’ve changed your mind, it’s not too late to run.”

“I’m sure, Dad. Tuck is the man for me.” She smiled, linking her arm with her dads, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The rehearsal had been nerve wracking. Her mother was a perfectionist, and had spent the last hour pointing out anything that was even remotely out of place. Her chest was tight, and in the back of her mind was a lingering paranoia about the test results she was supposed to be getting back.

About what a positive would mean for her and Tucker.

“David, you guys are walking too fast! You’re not supposed to be at the isle until the words start!” Charlotte YLN called from the altar, where she was scrutinizing every aspect of the rehearsal. “Can we try that again please?”

YN cursed under her breath, and her dad started to laugh. “What’s your mother like?”

“She’s driving me nuts, Dad! Can’t you do something?”

They waited in the hallway until the music started, an acoustic rendition of “Slide” by the Goo Goo Dolls, the song that had been playing when Tucker proposed.

They walked slower this time, pacing just so that the lyrics began to kick in as they were coming up the isle and walking towards the aisle. The song faded out during the chorus, as David handed his daughter off to her husband-to-be.

Tucker reached for her hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “How are you feeling?”

“Stressed.” She answered honestly. “If my mom makes us start from the beginning again, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“YN YLN, I heard that!” Her mom shouted from somewhere in the sea of chairs they had spent an hour setting up.

“It’s YN Tucker now, mom!”

Over the next hour, she slowly felt her patience wearing thin. Between her moms corrections, and the officiant’s speech, she found herself starting to get agitated, declining to practice her vows simply because she wants out of the Hastings Links Country Club, and out of her tight stilettos and wearing pajamas in from if the TV.

They couldn’t even afford the country club as a venue. Not under the wight of all their other expenses. At least, not until Wayne, who golfed there regularly, offered to talk to the manager about a friends and family rate. He had considered it an early wedding present for one of his star employees.

Tucker, who hadn’t taken his eyes off his bride the entire rehearsal, noticed that she was getting anxious, that her breathing was laboured, and immediately interrupted the rehearsal.

“Guys, can we take five? Just a quick break, and then we can practice the speech and the walkout.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” YN agreed. She gathered up the skirt of her long, flowy blue sundress, making sure that it didn’t get caught under her shoes as she stepped off the altar, walking as quickly as she could out of the room.

Her phone was in the bridal suite, next to the garment bag that held her wedding dress. She pulled out of her purse with shaky hands, heart stopping when she saw she had a new email from the doctors office.

The door to the bridal suite opened , and she could hear her sister Eloise calling for her.

“YN? Mom wanted me to see if you were okay. You tore out of there really fast.”

But she didn’t even hear Eloise’s questions, too busy rereading the same line of the email.

Patient is not pregnant.

She felt her lungs seize as the ringing in her ears began, and she knew she needed to get out. She pushed past Eloise without a word, bypassing the rehearsal guests as she made her way to the deck, collapsing on to the patio furniture with an ugly cry.

She’d forgotten how badly she wanted to be pregnant until the chance was ripped from her a second time.

Her eyes were puffy and red by the time Tucker found her, wordlessly sitting next to her in the outdoor couch. He undid the straps on her He undid the straps on her stilettos, gently rubbing her sore feet. She knew she wasn’t going to ask what was wrong. He never did. Just made her feel comfortable until she was ready to open up.

“I took a pregnancy test the other day.” She started, swallowing before her voice cracked. “It was another false positive, Tuck. I’m not pregnant.”

Tucker’s heart dropped, and he reached for her hand, trying not to show how disappointed he was. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. We knew from last time that it was going to take time.”

“Garrett and Hannah made it look so easy.” She cried, remembering how Hannah had gotten pregnant with Gigi less than a year after she and Garrett had gotten married. “Why can’t I do it, Tucker? Why can’t I get pregnant?”

She was crying again, hot tears of frustration streaming down her face. She felt like such a failure. She was getting married late, she’d be having kids late. Why couldn’t she ever do anything on time?

“Oh, honey.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not marrying you based on your ability to have children. I’m marrying you because you’re the woman I want to wake up next to every morning, the one I want to see the world with. I’ve loved every moment of our life together so far, and I’ll love every one that comes next.” He kissed her forehead softly, hand rubbing up and down her back. “And when we’re back from Alaska, let’s go see that fertility specialist Allie recommended.”

She raised her head. “You really mean that?” She asked hopefully.

“Of course I do.

Her heart melted. She didn’t deserve this man. He was way too good for her.

“Let’s go home and watch trashy tv until we fall asleep in each others arms.” Tucker suggested, scooping her up in his arms. “They won’t miss us.”

She snorted, thinking of her mother, who was likely inside the country club barking directions at people. “My mother will kill us.”

“And then we get married in heaven with Chris Cornell as the officiant. I see nothing wrong with that.”

“I love you.” She said softly, tracing the line of his jaw.

“I love you, too.” John said quietly, kissing her softly.

Yeah. She was in love with this man. She knew she’d picked the right one, and she couldn’t wait to start a family with him.

[moonstoneandmoonlight]

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER | t.m.

Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you, Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to

Your boyfriend Travis just got out of prison and he comes straight home to you.

pairing: travis meacham x reader words: 4.7k contains: (18+ smut!! minors dni) porn with (some but not much) plot, fingering, oral (fem receiving), p in v, non protective penetrative sex, creampie, nipple play, cum eating, finger sucking, dirty talk, travis comes a little too quickly (he's been in prison give him a break!!) pet names (baby, sweet girl, sweetheart, angel), established relationship, shameless smut, some inaccuracies with the american justice system, no use of y/n, female reader, she/her pronouns for reader.

author's note: first fic of the 2k followers special!! i’ll be honest, this week is going to be hard! i was definitely really under prepared for this week but i am going to really try and get all of the fics posted! if there’s a day when i won’t get a fic done in time, i’ll let you guys know around 5pm bst and you’ll get a blurb/gas drabble instead. all fics i had planned will be posted at some point though. but thank you once again for 2k! the support means so much to me 🥺

please enjoy this teacake fic! please ignore any mistakes regarding travis’ time in prison because i haven’t been able to rewatch cold storage yet so i had to make some stuff up!

to be added to my 18+ taglist | masterlist | requests page

Travis’ leg was bouncing nervously. His lawyer had told him to stop it and Travis had tried— he had really tried—but it was a choice between nervous fidgeting or throwing up and Travis figured that the last thing his parole hearing needed was him emptying guts in the middle of a courtroom.

He had been here so long that had been able to count all the cracks in the wall. For almost four hours now, Travis’ lawyer, a parole officer and various other panel members had been locked in a furious debate about whether or not Travis’ behaviour over the past eighteen months had made him suitable for early release.

If you asked Travis, he would argue that the book club group he had formed while incarcerated was just one example that proved he was of good character. Not at all in danger of reoffending if released. Not just the book club but that fact he had never been involved in any fights while in prison (and there had been many), that he had never failed to attend a single session of the writing program that he had signed in his very first week of his imprisonment and the fact that he hadn’t even attempted to escape during a riot in his block unlike his cellmate had—well, it had to be worth something.

But some of the board members weren’t convinced, hence the back and forth with his lawyer.

Travis was trying his best to follow along with the hearing but there was so much legal jargon and honestly, he was starting to lose hope for an early release. His lawyer had told him that it wasn’t likely, that he was meant to be in prison for another three years and a book club and a writing program likely wasn’t enough.

He hadn’t even told you about the hearing. He hadn’t wanted you to get your hopes up. You—the girl he had been with since high school. The one who had never given up on him, even when he made a stupid, stupid mistake and ended up with a five year federal prison sentence. You had been angry, upset even (rightly so) but you still loved him. You loved him so much that you promised him you’d wait and he promised you a ring the moment he was out.

Letters were the way your relationship was currently playing out. Two, maybe three letters a week. Honestly, being in prison meant that his letters didn’t offer much. Travis would tell you how bad the food was, how much he missed you and what book he had read that week. Your letters were far more interesting—with various stories from your job at a book store (his favourite story being the elderly women who came in weekly to buy the latest erotica), how annoying your coworkers were being and if he was really lucky details about what you’d do to him if he was home already. He had to remind you that all your letters were read by prison officers but fuck, he still loved when you got dirty like that. He was grateful that his cell mate had been moved to a different block after his attempted escape because it meant Travis could wrap his hand around his thick cock as he imagined how fucking wet you’d finally be when he could—

“Mr. Meacham?”

Travis blinked. He looked up to see the entire courtroom looking at him.

He curses himself for his borderline out of control horniness but in his defence, Travis missed you and he had been in prison for almost two years now.

“Yeah?” Travis replies, looking directly at the board member who had addressed him.

“Your appliance for early release has been approved. We’ll need a week to prepare the papers for your release but—”

Travis didn’t hear the rest. He could barely believe it. He had been so in his head about you that he had missed a full five minutes of the hearing. And apparently, in those five minutes, his fate had been decided. Early release in a week. There would be conditions of course, he’d need a job. He’d need to keep himself in line. But it meant home. And more importantly, it meant coming home to you.

You’re the first person Travis calls. His lawyer hands him her phone and Travis’ fingers scramble to dial your number. You were probably at work—you were most definitely at work—but he had to tell you. To hear your voice, to—

“Sandra?” Your voice comes through the phone and Travis could cry. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Is Travis okay—”

“—baby, baby, it’s me.”

There was silence and then—

“Tea?” you say quietly and Travis’ heart breaks a little at the concern in your voice. “What—why are you calling from Sandra’s phone? You’re not in trouble or—”

“No—no, no. Not in trouble. The opposite of trouble.”

“What do you—”

“—I got granted early release, baby. I’m coming home.”

Some more silence and then—

You let out a loud squeal of joy that was so full of unadulterated happiness that Travis couldn’t help but smile. Couldn’t help the way that his eyes stung with tears when he heard your own tears of happiness almost coming through the phone.“You’re coming home, Tea!” You repeated over and over again, as though you could barely believe it. “You’re coming home.”

The next week involved several hearings about the terms of his release. He would need to find a job within two months. He had to report to his parole officer every week for the next six months. He couldn’t leave the state without notifying his parole officer and he had to be on his best behaviour for—well, the rest of his life. But it was all worth it in the end, when he could be free and he could finally, finally be with you.

The day Travis was released, you showed up thirty minutes early. You had told yourself it was because you were being mindful of traffic but really, you had been ready for hours and you couldn’t sit idly for much longer. 

You felt a strange mix of nerves, excitement and apprehension. It bubbled in your stomach and made you feel both hot and cold at the same time. Your blood was practically humming through your veins. The times you had seen Travis over the past two years had been through a window with a telephone as a means to communicate. Those non-contact visits mostly ended with you holding back tears and Travis’ large hand pressed to the glass before he was taken away. But the thought of seeing him properly now, of being able to touch him—

The sound of your phone’s alarm ringing obnoxiously pulls you back into reality. He’d be out any minute now. You hoped that the paperwork wouldn’t take long. You didn’t know if you could wait even two more minutes without him.

You glance toward the prison entrance and when you see a figure dressed in a grey sweatshirt and sweatpants walking towards your car? You let out a loud shriek.

You scramble, trying to get out of your car as quickly as possible.

Travis is laughing but you’re barely listening as you race towards him. He stops in the middle of the parking lot, arms wide and ready for you to launch yourself at him. And you do exactly that.

Your arms wrap around his neck and your legs wound themselves around his waist as you press kiss after kiss to his face. You barely even register the fact you were crying until you feel him wipe away your tears.

“Oh—baby, baby. Don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m here.” Travis murmurs, his own voice breaking a little as he pulls away enough to look at you. One of his hands was tucked beneath your ass to support you while the other was cupping your cheek, thumb still gently wiping away your tears. “M’right here. Not going anywhere. Not again. Not ever again.”

You make a sound somewhere between a sob and laugh before you lean in. And for the first time in nearly two years, you kiss your boyfriend. You don’t care if you’re in the middle of a prison parking lot, don’t care that there was probably people watching the two of you—you didn’t give a fuck about anything that wasn’t Travis.

Your lips meet in a kiss that was anything but careful. It was needy, hungry—lips crashing together with two damn years of missing each other. Travis’ mouth was warm and insistent, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that had you tugging at his hair. The kiss alone had your core aching.

Travis was the first to pull away and you whine shamelessly at the loss of contact, attempting to chase his lips. You manage to catch him and coax him to part his lips. You hum as you suck gently on his tongue, resulting in a low groan coming from him, coupled with a firm squeeze of your ass.

“Baby—not here. I don’t want to get thrown back in for public indecency,” Travis says thickly, forcing himself to pull away from you again. You know it was a struggle since you could feel every thick ridge of his already hard cock beneath his sweatpants.

Quite honestly, you wanted Travis to bend you over the hood of the nearest car (you weren’t even particularly fussed if that car wasn’t your own) and take you in the middle of the parking lot. Who could blame you? You had missed Travis. Missed him and the way he spoke with so much passion for everything. The gentle way he loved you and how you were sure—with everything you had in you and more—that Travis was it for you. Even when people looked at you like you were crazy for not giving up when they found out where your boyfriend was, even when your parents had tried (not so subtly) to set you up at dinner parties once Travis was officially behind bars. But you also had needs—you were stupidly horny and your rose toy and vibrator could only do so much.

“Okay, okay,” you huff as Travis carefully sets you back down on the ground but not before leaving a final, lingering kiss to your lips. One that was just a little bit more restrained but still made Travis’ cock twitch beneath his sweatpants. “But when we’re back home—”“—once we’re back home? We’re not leaving the bed for days.”

The front door was barely shut behind you before Travis was on you.

Your hands were back in his hair, his hands were desperately relearning your body. Every curve, every dip, every inch of skin he could find.

“You’re still so fucking gorgeous,” Travis murmurs against your skin as his lips find that spot on your neck that made your toes curl and pussy throb. “My gorgeous, gorgeous girl. Can’t believe I was without you for two years.”

You squeal as Travis’ hands squeeze the globes of your ass before he picks you up with ease.

“Tea—you don’t have to—we can just—”

“—you think the first time in two years that I’m going to fuck you is going to be in our doorway? Absolutely not,” Travis says as he carries you through your apartment, his brown eyes sweeping over every new photograph, potted plant and decorative cushion that you had added to the apartment over the two years he had been absent. “We’re doing this the good old fashioned way,” he tells you before he kicks the bedroom door open. You laugh but the sound quickly turns into another shriek as he throws you down onto the bed.

“Tea! I could have broken my neck—”

But the words die on your lips when Travis tugs off his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath. Because—holy shit. It was clear from the size of his arms he had been working out and you wanted to lick every square inch of his biceps, wanted to run your tongue along every line of his tattoo that he hadn’t when he had left. But he was still Travis, his stomach was still soft, chest still covered with a generous smattering of dark hair and fuck, the sight of his happy trail alone made you so much more slick between your legs.

Travis sees how distracted you’ve become and smiles, leaning down to plant his hands either side of your thighs. His breath fans over your cheek, hot and making your brain momentarily short circuit. 

“Strip, baby,” he whispers. “C’mon, show Travy what he’s been missing.”

You bite back a laugh as you look up at him. “Talking about yourself in third person, really?”

Travis shrugs before he leans back to watch you. “What? You don’t like it?”

You roll your eyes and, instead of answering, you lift your shirt over your head and throw it unceremoniously to the other side of the room. Travis’ brown eyes were wide as he stared at you, now only in your bra and jeans, in complete and utter awe. 

“Fuck, baby—look at you,” he murmurs, large hands finding home on your waist like he can’t help himself. “Still so fucking perfect. Even more perfect. God—look at you—”

Your face feels hot, you feel warm all over and you want nothing more than to tug him down and kiss him until you forgot your own name. But instead—you pull his hands away from your waist so you could reach behind to unclip your bra.

Your breasts spill free and Travis is groaning at the mere sight of them.

“Holy fuck—sweetheart—”

His hands reach out again but you swat them away, despite the fact that every part of your body was thrumming with want. Despite the fact you were so desperately horny that your panties already felt soaked through. But you push your wants aside, your eyes remaining locked with Travis’ as your fingers dance teasingly along your skin. Travis swallows as he watches you cup your own breasts, the large bulge straining against his sweatpants when you let out a soft moan as your fingertip brushes over one of your pebbled peaks.

“You’re being mean, sweet girl,” Travis groans, his voice a little whiny. The sound made you clench around nothing.

“Why am I being mean, Tea?” You ask breathlessly, looking up at Travis as you lay back on your bed. “Just stripping like you asked me to.”

You continue to play idly with your own nipples and you watch in satisfaction as Travis’ jaw clenches. His hands were curled into fists by his side as though he was holding himself back from tearing the rest of your clothes off and burying himself inside you to the hilt.

“Teasin’ me. Touchin’ yourself when you know I want to be the one doing it. I mean—shit—look at your tits. Just want them in my fucking mouth, angel. It’s been so fucking long. I’m so fucking hard that I’m going lightheaded.”

You bite back a smile as your hands continue to glide over your skin, moving from your breasts, down to your stomach and then to the waistband of your jeans.

“Oh, Tea,” you hum as you unbutton your jeans at a tortuous pace. Travis’ mouth is hanging open a little, big brown eyes flickering over you as though he couldn’t quite decide on where to look. “My poor, sweet Tea.”

You manage to unzip your jeans and watch as Travis exhales shakily before you start to slide both your jeans and panties down your thighs.

“Holy—”

It was all Travis could think to say when you were finally laid bare for him. Your jeans and underwear were thrown somewhere near the laundry basket but neither you or Travis really cared. Especially when Travis could see the mess between your thighs, clear as day. How puffy and swollen your clit was, how desperate for attention it was. How your arousal had coated your folds and how your slick had started to dribble down to your thighs. It had been so fucking long since he had last seen that gorgeous sight, that Travis could have came right then and there.

“Your turn,” you tell him as you part your legs slightly so he couldn’t look anywhere else but at your needy cunt. “Don’t keep me waiting any longer, Tea.”

Travis did not need telling twice. In his haste to take off his sweatpants, he nearly tripped but managed to catch himself, glancing at you as you stifled a laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me, baby,” Travis tells you. “I’m a little out of practice.”

“So I am,” you say with a sweet smile. “But I got you and you got me, right?”

Travis pauses at the waistband of his boxers to look at you. There was want and lust there, of course there was, but mostly? It was love, affection and a devotion that ran so deep even federal prison couldn’t have put a stop to it. 

“Always, baby.” He tells you before he frees himself from his boxers. His cock slaps against his stomach and you can’t help but marvel at your boyfriend’s gorgeous cock. Gorgeous was exactly what it was—thick, stupidly long and a little curved in a way that managed to hit all the right spots. 

“I’ve missed little Travy,” you murmur affectionately as you sit up, looking at up Travis. One of your hands wrap around the base of him as you lean in to press a kiss to the tip, which was flushed an angry pink and beading at the slit.

Travis lets out a strangled sound, one large hand cupping the back of your head. “Don’t call it that. It’s more—medium sized Travy.”

You smile, pressing another kiss to the tip of his cock before pulling away to look up at him. “Little Travy sounds better though.”

“It feels a little insulting,” Travis murmurs, eyes on you as his hands move to gently rest on your shoulders before he pushes you back down on the bed. He follows, his body hovering over yours as he lets himself just look at you again and you can see it now—how his eyes turn a little glassy. How he can barely believe that this was real. That this was happening after so long. How he feels safe for the first time in two years. 

“Hey,” you murmur, reaching out to cup his cheek and smiling softly. All teasing and hunger gone in a single moment as you catch Travis before he could fall. “Hey, Tea. You’re okay.”

Travis nods, swallowing as he looks back at you, not bothering to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. “I know. You got me and I got you, right?”

The smile you were fighting was almost painful. God, you loved this man. You loved him so fucking much that you waited two years for this moment, for him. “Always, Tea.”

You smile at each other and the kiss that follows was soft, gentle and somehow more intimate than the fact you were both completely naked. Your lips glide against each other like you had all the time in the world. Your hands find their way into his hair and his cup either side of your face as though you were something precious.

You kissed again and again and again, until it turned open-mouthed and desperate. Until Travis was whining into your mouth and you were attempting to rub your dripping cunt over his thigh.

Travis was the one to pull away, completely breathless. His cheeks were flushed pink, lips wet and swollen from your kisses and the sight alone made you even more embarrassingly wet. You try to tug him back down by pulling on his hair but Travis just smiles, pressing a teasing kiss to the very corner of your mouth before he starts to kiss his way down your body.

It tested every bit of patience you had as you felt your boyfriend’s tongue glide down your body. When he reached one of your nipples, you let out a loud moan that was sure to have the neighbours complaining and Travis just fucking beamed before he latches himself onto your nipple, sucking greedily as his other hand kneaded the other.

“Missed these so f’king much,” Travis mutters against the sensitive skin, tongue still swirling and his own hips jutting as though he could barely help himself anymore. “Got me through so many bad days, thinking about these. Shit, baby.” Travis moans loudly before his mouth moves to your other breast so that he could give your other nipple the same treatment. 

He took his time, despite the fact you were mewling and whimpering beneath him and despite the fact he was leaking precum down your thigh. 

“Tea—please—” you beg him, eyes fluttering as you look up at him. “I need—”

“—I know just what you need, sweet girl,” Travis murmurs, placing a final kiss to your left breast before pulling away. “I got you. I got you.”

He continues his journey down. By now, you were a mess beneath him. Your body felt hot to the touch, every place his lips met felt as though it was on fire and when you felt his large hands gently coax your thighs open, you obliged.

“So good,” Travis murmurs as his lips meet your hipbone, over the small ‘T’ tattoo you had there. “Still so fucking good for me, aren’t you, baby?”

You let out a small gasp and nod frantically when you felt his hot breath directly over your pussy. He breathes you in first, his beautiful nose nudging your swollen, aching clit just enough to make you whimper.

“Smell so fucking good, baby,” he tells you, eyes on your face as he glides two long fingers against your slit. He watches your lips part, eyes close as he parts your folds to see again just how fucking wet you were. “Look at you. Fuckin’ dripping for me already. Could take my cock already, couldn’t you, sweet girl?” He asks, watching every trace of pleasure on your face as his fingers glide through your slick before gently pushing one, then two fingers deep inside of you. You don’t even manage a reply before he’s curling them, finding that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and stomach tighten.

“Lost for words, huh, baby?” Travis asks, setting a rhythm that had you gripping the bedsheets beneath you. “That’s okay, baby. I got you. Let me take care of you real quick.”

Travis may have been rock hard and throbbing but nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to stop him from tasting you for the first time in two years. He continues fucking your needy hole with his two fingers while his lips seal themselves over your clit. And the noise you let out at that first contact? It was heavenly.

Travis was relentless. He always had been, but now? It was something else entirely. His fingers continued fucking you, curling against your front wall each time they were back inside you and making your entire body shake with pleasure. His own hips rutting against the mattress like he was as fucking desperate as you. His mouth was sucking greedily at your clit, tongue circling it with a precision that came from a man determined to make you cum. 

It was overwhelming—the dual sensation of his fingers and his tongue and you were making so much noise you were sure to receive noise complaints in the coming days. 

“That’s it,” he breathes out against you, taking a moment to slurp up your arousal like it was liquid gold. “Cum for me, baby. I got you. I always got you.”

You don’t know what it was that triggered your orgasm, perhaps it was the deep penetration of his fingers, maybe it was his tongue flicking expertly against your clit or maybe it was just Travis but you came with an orgasm that felt so intense that it felt earth shattering. You clenched around his fingers, barely hearing the way Travis groaned about how you were squeezing him due to the fact your entire body was on fire from the intensity of your release.

Travis laps up every last drop with his mouth, fingers still pumping in and out of you, obscene wet noises filling the room as he watches how you gush around him.

“Fucking hell, baby. Look at you fucking soaking my hand.” He babbles. “You’re squeezing me like you want me to stay in your pussy forever. Is that what you want, baby? You want me to—”

“—Tea, shut up and get on your back,” you tell him.

You may have been shaking, may still have been on a different planet but you didn’t care.

Travis blinks up at you before he withdraws his fingers. You can see how his lips were wet with your release but your eyes were on his fingers, which were dripping with your release and you couldn't help yourself. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and you tug them closer. Travis could barely comprehend what was happening until your lips wrapped around the two digits that had been inside of you.

“Oh—shit—”

Travis can’t cope. He genuinely can’t. Watching you come apart on his fingers and his tongue and now seeing you taste yourself on his fingers, the way you were moaning around them and that fucking look in your eyes—

He says your name and you know then that he couldn’t take much more. You release his fingers with a wet pop before he flips the both of you over.

“I love you so fucking much,” he tells you as he wrap your hand around the base of his cock to guide it towards your entrance. “So fucking much, baby. I missed you so much.”

You glance at him and smile. “I love you too, Tea.”

And then—you sink down onto him.

The stretch was exactly how you remember. He was thick in a way that meant you felt every fucking inch of him and that slight curve meant his cock was kissing your cervix almost instantly. You place your hands on his chest as you sink down onto him fully.

“You’re fucking heaven, baby.” Travis tells you, his hands gripping your hips in a way that told you he was already right on the edge. “Fucking heaven. Shit—I love you so much and I can’t—”

“—it’s okay,” you tell him gently, your fingers gently curling into the hair on his chest as you bounce yourself once, then twice, on his cock. “—we’ve got all night, Tea.”

Travis whimpers, he’s trying to hold back. You can see it in his jaw, can feel it in the way he’s gripping onto you but it has been two years and the moment you start to ride him properly, he loses it. He slams up into you, once, twice and you feel every damn pulse as he comes hard inside of you. Hot, thick ropes of his release flood your pussy as he groans your name over and over again as though it was the only word he knew. 

Apologises eventually tumble from his lips but you silence him with a kiss that was soft, gentle and understanding.

“Don’t apologise,” you tell him fiercely once you pull away. “It’s kind of hot when you get all whimpery like that.”

Travis flushes a deep red before he lifts you off of him slightly to pull out of you with a loud wet sound. You glance down just enough time to see a thick glob of his cum leaking out of you. You’re about to wipe it away when Travis does something you hadn’t expected him to do—Travis uses two fingers to scoop up the mess from your thigh before he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks.

“Tea—holy—”

“What?” Travis murmurs once he releases his fingers with a wet pop, smiling back at you. “Tastes like us.”

You bite back a smile before you lean in to lick the rest of the creamy mess from his fingers.

Travis watches you—unable to look away as you suck gleefully on his fingers.

“I’ve really fucking missed you,” he tells you.

You hum before releasing the digits. “I missed you more,” you say softly. Travis lifts a hand to cup your cheek, wiping away the smear of cum left on the corner of your mouth before he leans in and kisses you. A kiss that said ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m glad to be home’. And god, was Travis so fucking glad to be home.

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[moongaze-f1]

HELLO!! LOGAN SARGEANT ENGAGEMENT!!

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© kitagar

[lovelytsunoda]

IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY | John Tucker

Summary: At the rehearsal dinner, YN finally snaps after receiving unwanted test results from her doctor.

Pairing: John Tucker x Paralegal!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a false positive on a pregnancy test, pre-wedding jitters, Tucker being the worlds bestest husband <3

“You doing okay, kiddo? If you’ve changed your mind, it’s not too late to run.”

“I’m sure, Dad. Tuck is the man for me.” She smiled, linking her arm with her dads, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The rehearsal had been nerve wracking. Her mother was a perfectionist, and had spent the last hour pointing out anything that was even remotely out of place. Her chest was tight, and in the back of her mind was a lingering paranoia about the test results she was supposed to be getting back.

About what a positive would mean for her and Tucker.

“David, you guys are walking too fast! You’re not supposed to be at the isle until the words start!” Charlotte YLN called from the altar, where she was scrutinizing every aspect of the rehearsal. “Can we try that again please?”

YN cursed under her breath, and her dad started to laugh. “What’s your mother like?”

“She’s driving me nuts, Dad! Can’t you do something?”

They waited in the hallway until the music started, an acoustic rendition of “Slide” by the Goo Goo Dolls, the song that had been playing when Tucker proposed.

They walked slower this time, pacing just so that the lyrics began to kick in as they were coming up the isle and walking towards the aisle. The song faded out during the chorus, as David handed his daughter off to her husband-to-be.

Tucker reached for her hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “How are you feeling?”

“Stressed.” She answered honestly. “If my mom makes us start from the beginning again, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“YN YLN, I heard that!” Her mom shouted from somewhere in the sea of chairs they had spent an hour setting up.

“It’s YN Tucker now, mom!”

Over the next hour, she slowly felt her patience wearing thin. Between her moms corrections, and the officiant’s speech, she found herself starting to get agitated, declining to practice her vows simply because she wants out of the Hastings Links Country Club, and out of her tight stilettos and wearing pajamas in from if the TV.

They couldn’t even afford the country club as a venue. Not under the wight of all their other expenses. At least, not until Wayne, who golfed there regularly, offered to talk to the manager about a friends and family rate. He had considered it an early wedding present for one of his star employees.

Tucker, who hadn’t taken his eyes off his bride the entire rehearsal, noticed that she was getting anxious, that her breathing was laboured, and immediately interrupted the rehearsal.

“Guys, can we take five? Just a quick break, and then we can practice the speech and the walkout.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” YN agreed. She gathered up the skirt of her long, flowy blue sundress, making sure that it didn’t get caught under her shoes as she stepped off the altar, walking as quickly as she could out of the room.

Her phone was in the bridal suite, next to the garment bag that held her wedding dress. She pulled out of her purse with shaky hands, heart stopping when she saw she had a new email from the doctors office.

The door to the bridal suite opened , and she could hear her sister Eloise calling for her.

“YN? Mom wanted me to see if you were okay. You tore out of there really fast.”

But she didn’t even hear Eloise’s questions, too busy rereading the same line of the email.

Patient is not pregnant.

She felt her lungs seize as the ringing in her ears began, and she knew she needed to get out. She pushed past Eloise without a word, bypassing the rehearsal guests as she made her way to the deck, collapsing on to the patio furniture with an ugly cry.

She’d forgotten how badly she wanted to be pregnant until the chance was ripped from her a second time.

Her eyes were puffy and red by the time Tucker found her, wordlessly sitting next to her in the outdoor couch. He undid the straps on her He undid the straps on her stilettos, gently rubbing her sore feet. She knew she wasn’t going to ask what was wrong. He never did. Just made her feel comfortable until she was ready to open up.

“I took a pregnancy test the other day.” She started, swallowing before her voice cracked. “It was another false positive, Tuck. I’m not pregnant.”

Tucker’s heart dropped, and he reached for her hand, trying not to show how disappointed he was. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. We knew from last time that it was going to take time.”

“Garrett and Hannah made it look so easy.” She cried, remembering how Hannah had gotten pregnant with Gigi less than a year after she and Garrett had gotten married. “Why can’t I do it, Tucker? Why can’t I get pregnant?”

She was crying again, hot tears of frustration streaming down her face. She felt like such a failure. She was getting married late, she’d be having kids late. Why couldn’t she ever do anything on time?

“Oh, honey.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not marrying you based on your ability to have children. I’m marrying you because you’re the woman I want to wake up next to every morning, the one I want to see the world with. I’ve loved every moment of our life together so far, and I’ll love every one that comes next.” He kissed her forehead softly, hand rubbing up and down her back. “And when we’re back from Alaska, let’s go see that fertility specialist Allie recommended.”

She raised her head. “You really mean that?” She asked hopefully.

“Of course I do.

Her heart melted. She didn’t deserve this man. He was way too good for her.

“Let’s go home and watch trashy tv until we fall asleep in each others arms.” Tucker suggested, scooping her up in his arms. “They won’t miss us.”

She snorted, thinking of her mother, who was likely inside the country club barking directions at people. “My mother will kill us.”

“And then we get married in heaven with Chris Cornell as the officiant. I see nothing wrong with that.”

“I love you.” She said softly, tracing the line of his jaw.

“I love you, too.” John said quietly, kissing her softly.

Yeah. She was in love with this man. She knew she’d picked the right one, and she couldn’t wait to start a family with him.