i think we should start openly mocking male creatives who can't figure out how to write women. like actually i think it's embarrassing that it took elliot page transitioning for christopher nolan to give him a good role. why did it take like ten years to get the first female lead in a marvel movie? why is it a Known Fact that stephen king can't write women? why is 50% of the population omitted from large ensemble works? i asked my friend to name a movie directed by a man with a majority female cast and he said ghostbusters 2016. ghostbusters. ghostbusters. g
content - alex kisses another girl at a new year’s eve party, and reader is totally not jealous.
boyish masterlist
did you expect something different? i bet she talks dirty, like she's on a mission.
los angeles, december 31st, 2014.
the past couple of weeks went by in a blur of studio time, writing sessions, and goofing off. you, alex and miles had managed to accumulate a decent number of demos that were worth revisiting.
it was new years eve in L.A, and you were staying at alex's place in the hollywood hills. it was a beautiful mid-century modern home, secluded from the bustling city, with a great view and even its own recording space. the pleasant weather was a nice and well-deserved break from london's biting cold winters, and you'd been spending most of your time either on the beach or in his studio.
"i don't get it," you said, squinting at the tv screen as the credits rolled. it was ten in the morning, and your were on your fourth james bond movie of the weekend. today, it was from russia with love, and last night it was you only live twice. with all this time on your hands, alex insisted he show you all the greats, from music to movies to books.
"there's not much to get," responded alex. he sat next to you on the couch, his knee dangerously close to knocking against yours. you yawned.
the front door opened and closed, and you heard footsteps. your head turned to see miles, holding three iced coffees and a paper bag. you'd sent him to pick up bagels from your favorite place. "i come bearing gifts," miles said, setting the drinks and bag down on the coffee table before leaving to grab plates from the kitchen.
"you're the best!" you yelled back at him.
one bagel, an iced coffee, and two episodes of seinfeld later, you got up from the couch. "i'm going to wash my hair," you said, grabbing your drink, "so nobody bother me for at least three hours!"
"got it," alex responded, his eyes following you as you left the living room and walked up the stairs. he then looked at miles, who just kicked him playfully and smiled.
you spent the rest of the afternoon in the guest bedroom, where you'd been staying for the past two weeks. one window was left ajar as you sat at the vanity, doing your hair and makeup. the air was crisp and sweet, purling through the vibrant canopy of leaves outside your room. your phone laid on the table next to you playing your favorite playlist. between that and the loud whirring of your hairdryer, you didn't hear alex come in.
"fuck!" you yelped, "alex, you can't do that!" you turned around hit him with a hand towel.
"sorry, sorry!" he laughed, "i said your name like five times. anyway—i thought you might want this." he held out his hand. in it, was a necklace; gorgeous, probably expensive as shit, and went with your outfit for tonight beautifully.
"oh, jeez. wow." your face flushed a bit as you looked up at him. you had no idea where this was coming from. "are you sure you want me to have it?" you asked. how the fuck would he even know? you thought.
"of course i do," alex responded genuinely.
“put it on for me?" you asked, turning around in your seat to face the vanity mirror. he stood behind you and clasped the necklace.
"pretty," he said softly. "i'm really glad you like it." you could only stare at him dumbfounded as he left the guest bedroom, a gentle hand rested over your chest where the pendant lay.
-
the three of you were ready to leave for the party by seven. the sun had already set, leaving the neighborhood only illuminated by dim street lamps and front porch lights. the house, alex said, was only a few blocks away, and since you'd be drinking, it made sense to just walk. you had a very expensive bottle of wine in hand, while miles carried a case of miller lite. the slight breeze made your hair stick to your lipgloss, and you looked up to see a full moon.
you kicked a rock along as you walked, not caring if you scuffed your brand new heels. miles noticed your restlessness, but decided not to say anything.
less than ten minutes later, you stood in front of the house. it was similar to alex's, nestled between trees and looking like it came straight out of a storybook. inside, you were immediately greeted with a sea of unfamiliar faces and strong perfume.
the playlist was an odd mix of sixties jazz and current indie. you set the wine bottle you brought in a cooler in the kitchen, and then was immediately at a loss for what to do next. you searched the room for a familiar face.
"camille, i'm so glad to see you!" you hugged her dramatically, almost making her spill her drink.
"i'm glad to see you too," she told you genuinely before pulling away slightly to see your face. "who're you here with?"
"alex and miles." you said a bit sheepishly. you looked around to see alex gesticulating wildly to two other guys—probably telling a terrible story for the hundredth time—and miles getting himself a beer.
"really? i thought they were 'done with L.A,'" she mocked in a very bad british accent.
"well, we're writing another album. they were done with L.A until al decided he writes better in warm climates." you rolled your eyes playfully.
"such a princess." camille laughed.
"that's what i'm saying!"
your chat was interrupted when someone announced that they were starting karaoke. it'd only been an hour, and these people already wanted to hear their own voices more than they already were. you looked over at the living room to see alex, holding a cheap microphone. of course, you thought. next to him, also holding a microphone, was a tall blonde girl. the first notes of ain't no mountain high enough began playing from the tv speakers and you let yourself laugh.
she was tall, lithe, and unbelievably gorgeous. movie-star pretty. you weren't sure if you wanted to be her or be with her.
eventually, with enough convincing and a few more drinks in you, camille finally got you to go up there. you reluctantly performed a very watery rendition of prince's purple rain, which surprisingly turned out to be quite the hit. you could feel alex's eyes on you even with your back turned. camille sat next to the blonde girl on the couch and cheered obnoxiously loud when the song finished.
"i shouldn't have done that," you said to the blonde girl in the kitchen. maybe if you had another beer you could forget this all ever happened.
"what!? you were great!" she exclaimed, grabbing the bottle opener magnet from the fridge to help you. "oh! i'm taylor, by the way," she said, opening your beer for you.
"it's nice to meet you! i'm (y/n)," you responded, trying to sober up a bit. "thank you, by the way."
"no problem," she smiled and put a welcoming hand on your shoulder.
you glanced up at the clock to see there were five minutes 'til minute. taylor must've noticed too, because she gasped. "it's almost midnight!" she grabbed your hand and you followed her to the living room, where most people were gathered. alex was looking for her, and you knew where this was going. you looked around, slightly frantic, to see miles also standing alone, and you sighed in relief.
"...five, four, three, two, one, happy new year!"
at the countdown to midnight, you kissed miles's cheek, figuring it was better than nothing. your eyes, however, were on alex practically shoving his tongue down taylor's throat. the room erupted in wild cheers and laughter.
-
"i think i'm gonna go home with her," you overheard alex say to miles.
in response, miles just nodded and you made out him saying "be safe, have fun," and patting his shoulder before walking away.
you immediately looked away as miles then came over to you and rested a hand gently on the small of your back. it seemed like everyone tonight was treating you like a wobbly baby deer, even some of your best friends. "you wanna head out soon?" he asked you.
"isn't it still early?"
"yeah, but i think we've done enough for one night,"
"i suppose you're right," you nodded in agreement. he held his arm out for you and you took it gratefully.
the walk home was the most peaceful part of your day so far. you let miles just talk, retelling all the ridiculous stories he heard tonight."...however, i did talk to someone who said he could score us a set at the cafe hotel to try some material out." he said.
"that's good," you nodded, your head rested on his shoulder.
"you feelin' alright?" miles asked, probably for the fifth time in your very short walk.
content - a phone call, a movie script, and then the prospect of an album.
boyish masterlist
london, england, december 2014.
alex had been your partner in crime since the beginning of your music career when you'd met through your record company. you were the opener for his band, arctic monkeys, during their AM tour, which just wrapped up a couple of weeks ago. it was a blast, being with the guys, going from city to city and doing what you loved the most—playing music.
you could call him if you needed music or life advice, or wanted to grab a meal, or just wanted to hang out with the guys and get your mind off whatever. he knew all the best spots and made you laugh until your stomach hurt.
alex was a coworker, though. someone you respected, confided in, jammed with—but a coworker and good friend nonetheless.
-
you were folding laundry in your living room when your cell phone rang abruptly. a light snow was falling outside your window. it was a late monday night, and you were planning to turn in early after an evening of takeaway and bad game shows. you set down the pair of jeans your were folding to grab your phone that was resting on the ottoman. you picked it up to read alex on the caller id.
you turned down the tv volume with the remote and quickly pressed accept. "alex?" you said into the phone, your eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"'ey, love. listen, sorry to call so late, but i jus' got the greatest fookin' idea of me life," alex slurred into the phone. in the background you could hear the chattering and music of a bar.
"what happened to 'hi, how are you?'" you giggled at his antics. his spontaneity was something you admired, and something you think was rubbing off on you a bit. he encouraged you to take creative risks.
"sorry! i jus', i couldn't wait," he responded eagerly, still very obviously intoxicated. the audio was more clear now, so he must've stepped out for some quiet.
"that's okay," you were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. "go on." you sat back on your couch, happy to amuse him.
"remember miles, yeah?" alex started, "well, we were talking tonight about maybe getting back together and doing something. like, creative, i mean. and i was telling him, well, (y/n) is so great and she has great ideas.. so like let's fookin' do it," he continued to ramble.
your face turned red at the inadvertent compliment, but a part of you knew the outward praise was mostly thanks to him being drunk off his ass. "and this is an album?" you asked genuinely.
"no, that's the thing! we're gonna write a screenplay," alex said, and you swore you heard him lighting a cigarette, "think 60s, x-men, stuff like tha'," he went on.
"and you decided all this in what... the last hour?" you asked, excited but skeptical, picking at your manicured nails. you let him keep drunkenly talking to you as you laid on your couch, watching the snow fall outside. it was nice to know that he wanted you in a way, and you let your mind wander a bit.
however, your lovely daydream was quickly interrupted with a, "you there?"
"i—yeah, sorry, i'm here."
-
you, alex and miles did not make a movie. well, not a very good one, at least.
two weeks later the three of you finally got together again, and after lots of dedication and hard work, (one 45-minute studio session) the three of you drafted a very ridiculous screenplay and scrapped it almost immediately.
“can we not objectify women for one second, guys!" you exasperatedly exclaimed, tossing your second cup of coffee into a trash can across the room and missing terribly. the boys purposefully ignored it.
"this is terrible." miles admitted, crumbling up the lined piece of paper he'd really just been doodling on the whole time. "i think i'm a better musician than i am writer, which is pretty hard to do, since it requires writing."
"it can't be that hard. we're smart people, aren't we?" alex asked.
"not you, apparently," miles quipped, throwing the paper ball at alex's head. "this is why we started a band... we didn't posses the intellectual capacity to write a novel."
not funny, babe." alex playfully tossed the paper ball back at miles and it missed.
you sighed dramatically and stared up at the ceiling with your arms over your chest, wishing for this dreadful moment and your pounding headache to end. "let's just write an album," you murmured.
"yeah?" alex quirked an eyebrow.
"sure, yeah," you continued, tilting your head to the side to look at them both. "i miss my guitar, anyway... i think."
miles nodded. "let's do it, then."
-
"so the last shadow puppets, huh?" you asked, sitting across from him in a restaurant booth. "when did that start?"
miles had another thing to get to, so you and alex went out to a casual dinner together after the writing session. you knew al had done other creative work, like the soundtrack for a movie, for one, but you never heard much about his and his best friends supergroup.
"well, me 'n him met a while ago. his band was tourin' with mine, you know how it goes," alex said cheekily, and you chuckled. "our brains kinda work similarly... like you 'n me, too."
"yeah! no, i get it. well, i'm all in, if that's what you want," you said, a bit shy.
you were becoming more and more frustrated by the minute. your makeup and hair were already done, but you had yet to find an outfit for your first date with peter. your room was a mess, and pepper’s suggestions weren’t helping at all.
“how about jeans?” your step-mom suggested, holding up a pair from your closet.
“no! what if he takes me somewhere nice?”
“can he take you somewhere nice?” pepper asked, folding a discarded pair of shorts and pitting them back in their respective drawer.
you smiled to yourself, “he’s full of surprises,” you said.
you decided on a jean skirt and a nice sweater, and fixed you makeup one more time when tony popped his head into your room and knocked on your door frame. “the boy has arrived,” he whisper-yelled, and made a faux nervous face.
tony adored you. you were his princess, the light of his life—and despite everything, he thought peter really was a good kid. would treat you right.
“he looks just as nervous as you, peanut,” tony added, stepping into your room where pepper was helping you curl one final piece of your hair.
“i’m not nervous, dad,” you protested lightly.
“sure. y’know, i remember my first date—“ tony started, but was cut off by pepper throwing him a very dirty look.
the subway ride with peter was comfortably quiet. you still had no idea where he was taking you, but he seemed fairly excited… and maybe just a bit nervous.
there was no need to be, really. you’d been best friends since the beginning of freshman year, and it didn’t take long for you to become two peas in a pod. only recently came the very awkward, very cute profession of his love to you over a star wars lego set and christopher nolan movie in his bedroom.
you’d kissed him then, right there on his carpet, and his face turned the shade of a ripe tomato. he swore to this day that it was the best thing to ever happen to him. his best friend in love with him, and likewise.
the train halted to a stop, and the doors screeched open.
peter offered his hand for you to take, which you did, following him through the subway station and up the stairs.
“i’m excited,” you said, speaking just to fill the air. you were walking by peter’s side now, swinging your joined hands gently back and forth.
“me too,” he said with a firm nod, as if reassuring himself, and maybe fist-pumping in his head. you were excited. were his cheeks pink from blushing or the cold? you couldn’t tell.
dinner was sandwiches and chips from delmar’s deli-grocery, eaten on a park bench in front of the pond.
it was early november, the trees surrounding you turning shades of orange and brown. the breeze made you shiver just a bit.
peter noticed immediately. he swallowed before asking, “do you want my jacket?” taking it off as he spoke.
“oh, thats fine, really,” you shook your head dismissively.
“no, you should have it—i mean, i want ‘ya to have it,” peter insisted, draping it over your shoulders.
“thank you,” you smiled, and took another bite of your sandwich.
you talked until the sun began to set. about school, movies out right now, mj and ned’s antics. it was nice not to think about being spiderman, or being tony stark’s daughter and avengers-in-training. about what might come next and how you would handle it.
tonight, you were just y/n and peter.
next stop was the arcade. you spent at least a half hour trying to beat the pacman high score while peter played ski ball, then you beat him twice at air hockey.
you were about to head out when a teddy bear in the claw machine caught your eye. “you want that?” peter asked.
“well, it’s cute, but it’s—“ you began. he was already digging through his jean pockets for the last of his arcade tokens.
“don’t worry, i’m the best at these!” peter exclaimed. he looked so serious you began to giggle.
“aren’t they rigged?” you asked, standing next to him and peering into the glass box full of colorful stuffed animals. on top was the teddy bear.
“not for me, babe,” peter responded in that same too-serious manner, and you laughed again.
twenty minutes and many arcade tokens later, that teddy bear was yours.
the walk home was comfortable quiet once again, both you and peter full and content. you held the teddy bear to your chest in one arm, and your free hand holding onto peter’s. his affection was becoming familiar, and his silent chivalry, too.
you stopped at your front door, his hand still in yours.
“i had so much fun tonight, thank you. and thank you for walking me home,” you said.
“i had a lot of fun too,” peter responded. “and anytime. no biggie,” he added.
“yes biggie,” you chuckled, leaning to kiss his cheek, leaving him frozen and blushing. with that, you opened your front door. “text me when you get home,” you said, and closed the door softly behind you.
inside, the lights were dim. containers of half-eaten takeout were resting on the kitchen counter. beyond further inspection, you saw tony and pepper were watching a movie in the living room.
“first date completed,” you said half-joking, walking over to the couch. unsurprisingly, your dad was fast asleep on top of pepper.
“how’d it go?” she asked quietly.
“really good,” you nodded and smiled assuringly. really good.
“i’m so glad.” pepper whispered and returned the smile, “get some rest, sweetpea, we’ll talk tomorrow.”
josh jenkinson x reader w/ a meetcute?! maybe they meet at a mutual friends halloween party and maybe readers dressed up as uma thurman in kill bill (cuz it’s one of josh’s fav movies) and that gets them to talking?! i imagine readers in a band too so maybe she knows eli or someone.
pray for the weekend
josh jenkinson x reader
word count - 800+
thanks so much for requesting!!
american bitch - between friends
sweat dripped down your temple as you navigated the crowded club, grace’s hand clutched in yours, trailing behind you closely.
it was halloween. you, grace and lucy were dressed up as quentin tarantino movie characters. you’d gone to inhaler’s show that evening at royal albert hall, mainly in support of your friend eli, and his girlfriend—your bestfriend—grace.
it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, not really. the truth was, your boyfriend of about six months broke up with you last week, and you didn’t want to mope around all night pretending to have fun.
but grace and lucy, like always, pulled you out of the house and helped to put together a last-minute costume with them.
inhaler’s show had been enjoyable, but this party wasn’t really your scene, no matter how hard to tried to pretend it was. alcohol and being with your friends certainly helped, though.
you played guitar for audrey hobert, and toured with her last summer, which is how you met eli, and so forth.
meeting eli and the girls was honestly one of the best things that could’ve happened, both career-wise and friendship-wise. they really helped to get you out of your shell.
like tonight.
“grace, i have to be honest. i don’t really know where i’m going,” you said loudly over music and voices.
“lucy said she’d meet us over there! how big could this house possibly be?”
you couldn’t recall what happened in between trying to find the bar and bumping into a stranger, spilling his drink all over his dress shirt.
“jeez, i’m so sorry!” you blurted! you looked around briefly, grace no where to be found, and then back at the tall, handsome stranger. he looked oddly familiar, but your drunk, disoriented mind couldn’t put the pieces together quite right.
“that’s okay, really,” he chuckled. and then, looking up at warm brown eyes and his silly phantom of the opera costume, you recognized him from the stage earlier that evening.
“no, really. i’m stupid,” you added, and grabbed a crumpled napkin to try (and fail) to dab the liquid from his shirt. every new thing you did was something to add to the ‘cringe about this tomorrow morning’ list. “…um, is there any chance you were on stage tonight?”
he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “yeah, that was me. i play guitar in inhaler, with eli and the guys. oh—i’m josh, by the way,” he awkwardly extended the same hand to shake yours.
oh. oh. “hi! it’s really nice to meet you,” you took his hand with both of yours, shaking it quite aggressively. “i’m y/n.”
“it’s nice to meet you too, y/n,” josh said. “i like your costume. kill bill’s one of my all-time favorites.”
“really? mine too!” you said excitedly.
“really?” josh asked, grinning now.
your face dropped momentarily. “no, not really…i needed a last minute costume idea and grace had a yellow track suit in her closet already.”
“well maybe i can show it to you one day,” josh said genuinely.
“that would be really great, actually,” you blushed. “i’m really sorry, i’m not usually like this, but you see—i wasn’t really supposed to be here and—“ you began.
“really, all’s good,” josh cut you off politely. “would you wanna get some fresh air or something? i feel kind of claustrophobic in here,” he offered.
on your way out, you managed to grab grace and lucy, explaining your situation briefly and telling them to keep you posted. they both nodded in understanding, already caught up in their own things too at this point.
you and josh stepped out of the club and into the cool london night air. you could see him more clearly now in the streetlights, and gosh, was he pretty. warm brown eyes and dark brown hair, tall and handsome and sweet and everything you could possibly want right there in front of you.
you walked for a while, just wandering until you found a bench to sit, staring up at at the full moon and few stars in the sky. london buzzed in the background, but it was only you two for now.
“so how do you know eli?” josh asked, kicking his feet out in front of him.
“oh, i play guitar for audrey hobert…and gig a bit myself. we met at glastonury last summer, i suppose i just didn’t catch you too.”
“you write your own stuff?” josh inquired.
“yeah! i do. sometimes. i’d like to do something like that someday.” you said, a bit wistful.
“i’d love to hear something sometime, if you wouldn’t mind,” he replied.
“yeah, of course. sure,” you nodded, “but only after we see kill bill,” you added, making him laugh.
the night ended with exchanged numbers, and meeting back up with the band and grace and lucy and martha. the girls gushed about how perfect you and josh would be together as you walked back to the hotel together.
your mood had certainly lifted from earlier, alcohol, friends, love, and a new connection raced through your mind as you held hands with grace, swinging your arms back and forth with a bit of a pep in your step. maybe the party wasn’t so bad after all.
content - christmas with john in your first house together :)
word count - 1.1k
you were nothing short of ecstatic as you practically skipped up and down the basement stairs, boxes full of christmas crap in your arms.
it was mid december, and you had moved into this apartment in early august. john had gotten the surgical residency at county general he wanted so badly, you were doing the same in pediatrics, and you even convinced him to adopt a kitten. you had some friends and family close by, and things finally seemed like they were going to work out.
john was sitting on the carpet in the living room, trying to untangle a ball of lights. there was a roast in the oven, a fire in the fireplace, and all sorts of christmas stuff scattered around the kitchen and living room. an undecorated, real fraiser fur was up it its stand in the corner. “the carter tradition,” he’d called it.
there was about a week until christmas, and you could hardly contain your giddy excitement. best of all, you were hosting friends and family this year, meaning you could go all out with an elaborate, festive menu.
“you need help?” you asked, closing the basement door with your hip since your hands were full.
“got it, babe, thanks,” he replied, smiling up at you briefly.
“don’t look like you got it,” you said in a sing-song voice. in the corner of your eye you saw that he was halfway wrapped around the string of lights, but you chose to ignore it for the time being. you moved to put the boxes down on the kitchen table, placing them down with a thump.
“i got it, babe,” john repeated, and scoffed a laugh, “do you mind grabbing me my glasses, though?”
“sure,” you smiled, grabbing the little case and puling them out for him, checking if they were clean before handing them over. when you were close enough, he rested his hand on the back of your neck gently to press his lips against yours.
your nose brushed against his when you pulled away. “hi.”
“hi, sweetheart,” john laughed softly. he placed his hand on the small of your back as you crouched down next to him. his cheeks were pink from the cold, and his eyes were the warmest shade of brown. you felt mushy looking at him. his sweater was old and cozy and his back was warm from sitting facing away from the fireplace.
“i’ll be done in a sec and then we can do ornaments, okay?” john said softly, bumping his nose against yours gently.
“okay,” you agreed with a nod, reluctantly getting up and padding back to the kitchen. the dark, hardwood floors creaked under your fluffy-sock clad feet.
he managed to get the lights unwrapped without tangling them further while you quickly checked on dinner and took the ornaments out of their padded cardboard boxes. some were from your families or ones you made as kids, others were newer, nice ones from department stores.
“do we really need to keep this one?” you asked with a laugh, holding up one that was a snowflake with a picture of you stuck to the middle, probably from around kindergarten.
“what?” john made a sarcastically incredulous face, “that one’s a gem baby. goin’ smack dab in the middle.”
you would’ve protested, but the next ornament you pulled out was one of john. “look at those cheeks!” you exclaimed, holding it up to show him. it was a cut out of his face in the middle of a paper wreath, with a little hook at the top. his cheeks were chubbier, but those bright eyes and bunny teeth were the exact same.
he laughed and his face went a little pink. “touché,” he snatched it from you. “it’ll go right next to yours, then.”
it took you about half an hour to put all the ornaments up, then the tinsel messily wrapped around and the star at the very top, before storing the boxes away. by then, dinner was ready and you and john were starving.
you ate and admired your hard work. the tree was a little wonky but still beautiful. you decorated the mantle with greens and candles, and put other little things here and there all over the home. you and john’s apartment, even without the christmas madness, was coming along quite nicely. it felt like home, especially after he felt unwelcome in his own for so long.
“do you wanna play mancala? …or rum?” you asked, putting your dish in the sink.
“mancala sounds good. if you go set it out i’ll clean up dinner.” john offered. in passing, he smooched your cheek, making a gross mwah sound.
you scrunched your face up, but really didn’t mind at all. “you’re the sweetest,” you smiled.
“i try my best.”
you set the game out on the living room table, putting whatever christmas movie happened to be on tv as background noise. after being beat by you three times in a row, john gave up.
“hey, you can’t do that!” you exclaimed jokingly, leaning over to kiss him.
“do what?” john asked when he pulled away for a breath. he shifted to face you on the couch.
“i’ll let you win if you play me just one more time,” you started, and placed your hands gently on his thighs.
“no can do, baby. for my ego,” john continued, and kissed you again with a bit more vitality. he moved his hands up to cup your face, and you felt his face get warm. it was rare that he was so forwardly affectionate with you, but it was much appreciated when it did happen.
after making out for a while longer, you flopped back into the couch cushions, redirecting your attention to whatever crap was on tv. your eyes drifted to the half-packed suitcases next to the stairs; a reminder of your late-december munich trip coming up soon. you decided, after much consideration, that you could do christmas eve with his family, christmas day with yours, spend a couple days in germany at churches and christmas markets and whatnot, and then celebrate new years with friends.
would this plan realistically fit into both your rigorous schedules? no, probably not, but you would try anyway.
“i love you,” john said, turning his head to look at you. your faces were a mere couple inches apart.
“i love you too,” you replied sincerely, and gently brushed your lips against his. “i’m so happy we get to spend the holidays together.”
“me too,” john pressed his lips to yours again, for real this time. outside, snow fell and cold winds blew, but inside your little apartment that you called home, it was warm and full of love.
I love ur cam stuff i think it’s super cute!!! Can I request a friends to lovers where cam and reader go to a holiday party and they get in a situation where they have to confess to each other?
‘tis the damn season
cameron winter x reader
wc: 1.1k
the december air was crisp. your cheeks were pink from the cold wind as you walked with cameron from his car to your friend’s front door. you were carrying a bottle of wine and cameron had a last-minute, pre-made grocery store charcuterie board.
there was a dusting of snow on the sidewalk. your flats made imprints as you walked.
you followed him up the brick stoop to the front door. it was large and ornate, a deep red color adorned with a beautiful evergreen wreath. cameron looked back at you for reassurance, before raising his hand up to the door.
knock. knock. knock.
creaaak. a blonde, pretty young woman opened the door. her name was clara, and she was your roomate sophomore year at nyu. she could be loud, arrogant, but she had a heart of gold, (and also a villa in trieste for the summers), so you kept her around.
“hi, oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, nearly knocking both you and cameron off your feet when she hugged you. “so glad you could make it, guys!”
“haha, thanks for having us,” you replied, voice a little strained from how tight she was squeezing you.
“come in, come in!” she said, and stepped back inside. you and cameron followed, admiring her opulent foyer; the floors marble and rounded staircase a dark wood, a beautiful christmas tree in the center. cameron’s hand brushed the small of your back as you got situated, putting your jackets in the closet and heading into the kitchen.
all your friends were scattered throughout. cameron gave you another, almost pitying, look of reassurance before going straight to max and dominic. you meandered around for a bit, looking for something to eat or drink.
you poured yourself a glass of wine, exchanging simple greetings with people as you did so. then, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. you looked back to see your ex-boyfriend, jesse.
“you need help?” he asked lightheartedly, seeing you struggle with the cork.
“oh, uh, yeah. thanks. please.” you nodded and wiped your sweaty hands on the front of your jeans.
you had dated jesse from the spring of freshman year all the way to the end of junior year. the relationship had ended on a positive note, and you stayed friends. he was a year older, came from money, and was so perfect you almost hated him. he burned through books like it was nothing, told all the right jokes at the right times, was in med school now—and by the looks of the gold band on his ring finger, was probably married already.
“‘s good to see you,” you said shyly. “when was the last time? forth of july?”
“forth of july, yeah,” he chuckled, searching through the drawers for a wine opener. “you guys are cute together, you know.”
“who? what?” you asked, genuinely confused, looking around.
“you and that tall guy. cameron’s his name?”
“oh! cameron! no, no- we’re just friends! we grew up together, and went to high school together’n stuff.”
“his hand was on your ass, babe,” jesse said, finally opening the bottle with a little grunt.
“it’s not like that, really,” you doubled down, taking it from him and pouring a glass. and then someone called his name, asking to get more ice or something.
“gotcha, well, see ya.” he rubbed your shoulder blade before walking off, and you felt the cold metal of his wedding ring against your skin.
“…see ya.”
the party went on. drinks, hors d’oeuvres, card games and catching up with old friends you wouldn’t regularly get to see. you felt warm and tired and happy, for the first time in a long time. you caught cameron’s eye from across the room several times throughout the night, the type of look that meant more that words could ever say.
it was around ten in the evening when you finally got him to yourself. cameron was sitting on the burgundy love seat in the living room, admiring clara’s extensive record and cd collection.
“find anything good?” you asked, walking over to cam and sitting down, your thigh pressed to his. he looked over to you and smiled warmly.
“an original pressing of zeppelin II. pretty rare, i’d say.” cameron remarked, showing you before sliding it back into the box.
“wow. you’re right,” you said, slouching back a bit. “think clara’d notice if we took it home?”
he scoffed with a smile and hit your arm lightly. “pfft, don’t say that. …but probably not.”
you giggled. cameron was close and warm, having been sat in front of the fireplace for a good while. his breath smelled like beer and the cologne he was wearing rubbed off on you. you glanced down at his watch, which must’ve been his fathers too at some point, seeing it read 10:30.
cam noticed, and his brown eyes met yours. “you wanna head out soon?”
“hmm. yeah. sounds good,” you nodded and then paused for a moment. “can we get food on the way home?”
he laughed softly, but nodded immediately. “silly goose, did you not get enough to eat?”
your mouth opened incredulously. “i did! ‘m just hungry again!” you protested in a higher pitched voice.
cameron brushed your bangs back affectionately. “i’m just messin’. we can do whatever you want.”
you shared a moment of comfortable silence. the little heels of your mary janes clicked against the dark hardwood floor as you fidgeted. he hummed a tune you couldn’t quite decipher, and you enjoyed the feeling of closeness.
you eventually got the courage to speak up, feeling emboldened by the alcohol in your system and your conversation with jesse earlier. “i dunno if this is a weird.. or bad time to say this, but i really like you, cameron,” you said, voice small but still somewhat confident.
it was definitely out of the blue, but not unexpected. your feelings for each other were destined to bubble up sooner or later. in this case, sooner than you thought.
his eyebrows raised and he looked over at you. he took in your pretty hair that was done up, your dress that must’ve been new, your shy smile that has been the exact same since grade school.
“i like you too.” cameron said softly. you let out a sigh of relief, and it felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “what? did you think i didn’t?”
“no! i was just nervous. i guess. and it feels like i’ve liked you for a while, that’s all.” you confessed as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. your cheeks were definitely pink now.
he continued to grin, and then hesitantly leaned into press his lips against yours. he tasted like peppermint and chocolate,
when cameron pulled away, he asked, “do you wanna actually get out of here now?”
you nodded enthusiastically and got up off the couch, grabbing his hand. “let’s go, cowboy.”
it was a beautiful saturday in early may. pittsburgh had finally defrosted after a particularly snowy winter, and you felt hopeful for the first time in a while.
it had been a particularly difficult last 10 months. rehab, the divorce, getting back on his feet and trying to gain back everyone’s trust.
but then langdon met you. you were his little bubble of solace in the midst of the storm. someone he could depend on, someone he could trust and someone who trusted him.
with you, there was always art on the walls, an unfinished painting somewhere. weekend adventures, cute notes in his lunches, texts during the day that always went along the lines of you’re the bravest guy i know, i love you.
langdon had worked a double at the pitt last night, not getting home until close to 11:00. he came through the door, kissed your face, ate the dinner you made, showered, and then watched approximately thirty minutes of abbott elementary with you before passing out.
so this morning, you let him sleep in.
you got out of bed a little later than usual, went for a walk to the farmers market and picked out new flowers and some ingredients for dinner tonight.
you walked through the front door, kicked your shoes off in the foyer and then headed into the kitchen. you were carrying a reusable grocery bag full of stuff and a bouquet of flowers, cheeks pink from the sun and feeling better after getting some fresh air.
you found frank sitting at the kitchen island, drinking lukewarm coffee out of his world’s 2nd best dad mug.
“hi.” you greeted sweetly with a small smile. you set your stuff down and kissed his cheek. “how you feelin’?”
“good. fine.” he smiled tightly.
“sleep well?”
“mhm.” he nodded, leaning into your touch. you brushed a piece of hair off his forehead. his blue eyes were still sleepy and his voice was groggy.
“good. glad you’re feeling good.” you pressed another kiss to his cheek, then his lips. you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving to stand between his legs as you continued to kiss him lazily. you felt him smile and his teeth clashed with yours.
you eventually pulled away to catch your breath, eyes full of love as you looked into frank’s tired ones. his calloused hands were gentle as they held your hips. “lemme put these flowers in a vase and then do you wanna go back to bed?”
he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head like a puppy. you shut him down immediately, “no, not like that! you’re still sleepy, and i wanna start my new book.”
he laughed, and then kissed you again. “i know, i’m just kidding, sweetheart.”
you pulled away to stand at the kitchen counter. he checked emails on his laptop while you put away groceries and arranged the flowers the way you wanted them.
then you headed back up to bed, frank practically tackling you to the mat so he could lay on you for a moment.
you both laughed. he shifted to lay down while you sat up against the pillows, your new book from the library in hand. “you gonna nap?” you asked, leaning over him a bit.
“mhm.”
“okie.” you settled back in. “i’ll be here when you wake up. i might take one too in a bit.”
“can we go on a hike tomorrow?” frank asked, his face smushed against the pillow.
hiiiii i love ur writing sm!!! i was wondering if u would ever write smut for cameron winter… i didn’t see any dni requests in ur master list but if ur not comfortable with it dont feel pressure to reply to this lol. hope ur well!
i’ve never written smut before, but am totally open to it!! i’m finishing a little something for him that will be out this weekend… so feel free to send a request if u want!
im absolutely obsessed w ur writing!!! i wanted to ask if maybe you could write a story with cameron winter that’s super fluffy/comfort where the reader or oc is sick (minor cold, like nothing crazy) but cameron is actually really good at taking care of them :) tysm!!!!
thank you! this means so much 🥹
thunder
cameron winter x reader
wc: 1k
it was late august in brooklyn, and you were feeling absolutely miserable. aches and fatigue earlier that week turned into a sore throat, which turned into a fever and stuffy nose. it was a friday, and you decided it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to call in sick at work.
cameron stopped by your place earlier in the day to eat lunch with you, but geese had a show that night, so he had to get going pretty soon after.
you kept yourself busy with a new book from the library, the whole first season of the pitt and then a nap until late evening.
it was raining now, probably 11 or 12 at night. you got up from your place on the couch, grabbed a glass of water and then fed your cat, pudding, who’d been snuggling with you all day.
you padded back to the couch, the old wooden floors of your flat creaking under your fuzzy sock clad feet.
with a small sigh, you plopped back down on your couch, and pulled your favorite throw blanket up to your chin. you grabbed the remote and turned the tv back on to whatever food network show happened to be on this late.
a few moments of quiet passed, the only sound being pudding’s paws clacking against the floor. then, you heard keys rattle in the front door and it open with a small creak.
“sweetness?” cameron called out quietly. you could hear him take off his shoes in the foyer, and set down something near your bedroom. probably his guitar case.
“hi, boyfriend.” you smiled gently, sitting up a bit to look at him. he was just in a hoodie and jeans, holding a box of pizza.
“hi girlfriend.” cam responded easily. he set the box down on the coffee table, and kneeled next to you in front of the couch. he gently brushed your hair back, feeling your clammy forehead in the process. “how you feelin’?”
“worse than this morning, but better than yesterday.” you sniffed.
“i suppose that’s good.” he chuckled, continuing to stroke your hair.
“how was the show?” you asked, looking up at him.
“good. was really good. crowd was good.” he nodded, shifting to sit down. “i brought pizza if you want it, but that’s okay if not.”
“i had a grilled cheese a bit ago, so we can save it for tomorrow. but thank you. and thank you for coming over.” you said.
“of course. anything for my sick girl.” cameron replied sympathetically. pudding came over and began rubbing against his thigh, so he leaned down to pet her.
you watched him for a moment, before speaking up. “i missed you.” you frowned almost pathetically, but the blanket was basically up to your nose. he could see it in your eyes, anyway.
cameron looked up and his brows furrowed. “i missed you too.” he smooched your cheek, then your forehead, then your nose. “tomorrow i don’t have anything, so we can do whatever you want.”
“okay. yay.” you said weakly, but still excited. a lazy day with cameron sounded absolutely perfect. pudding meowed and quickly got bored with your boyfriend, walking away to her toys instead.
cameron kissed you properly, not caring if you were snotty and gross, or if he got sick too.
he pulled away after a bit and thought for a moment. you looked up at him, his pretty brown eyes and face and hair that was getting a little longer. “do you want to… watch a movie? take a bath? read a book?” he listed.
you considered your options. “do you mind running me a bath?” you asked.
“not at all. then movie?”
“then movie.”
cameron got to work. he put the pizza in the fridge for tomorrow as leftovers, put your clean dishes away and your dirty laundry in the washer. then, he ran a bath, using your favorite bubbles.
he helped you undress, pulling your (his) shirt over your head and throwing it with the rest of your clothes in a pile in the corner of the bathroom.
“can you stay?” you asked, sitting down in the bath, your knees to your chest.
“yeah. sure. lemme grab something first.” cameron left the bathroom and headed to your bedroom, grabbing james joyce’s dubliners from your bedside table. he came back, left the door cracked open, and sat on the toilet lid next to your in the bath.
he read to you while you washed your hair and body, enjoying the warm water, which also cleared your stuffy nose a bit.
you felt a hundred times better getting out, cam drying you off and helping you get into pajamas. he sat behind you on the couch and brushed your wet hair while you picked a movie on tv.
“love, actually?”
“it’s not christmas!”
“ferris bueller?”
“hmm… not feeling it.”
“rushmore?”
“sure, baby. i’m just messing with you.” cameron kissed your shoulder.
you got comfy on the couch, sharing a blanket and a sleepy pudding cuddled between you. his arm was over your shoulder and your head was rested on his chest. he’d made a microwave bowl of popcorn which you took a small handful of every few minutes.
cam pressed his nose to the top of your head, and kissed your hairline gently. he smelled like laundry detergent and a little bit like sweat. his worn, faded cotton t-shirt was soft under your bare arm, and his chest was solid in the best way. it felt like home to be in his embrace.
the rain outside still pelted against your windows, thunder rumbling every so often. a dose of nyquil and being overall fatigued made you sleepy, and you tried to fight your eyes from closing.
cam grabbed the remote to turn the tv volume down just a bit. “sleep, lovie. you need it.”
“mm.. wanna know what happens next.” you protested, saying anything just to keep him talking to you.
“you’ve seen this probably 20 times, baby.”
“well, i forgot what happens next.”
“i’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” cameron reassured, knowing you were being silly anyway. he kissed your forehead and with that, you were asleep.
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