#a really good friend of mine has many more friends she would always call before talking to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

arepas

javier peña x f!reader

summary: when you’re single, it’s complicated. messy. he can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him.

an: dedicated to the wonderful, the amazing @halfmoth-halfman - i told you that i'd write you something, and here it is. I hope it makes you smile as much as you make me smile. word count: 9.3k (sorry, not sorry) warnings: developing feelings, slow burn -> colleagues to friends to lovers. usual jo angst, but with lots of banter. fingering, p in v, angst, sweet ending, spoilers for narcos season two.

friend noun /frɛnd/ a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations. "she's a friend of mine."

It starts in Bogotá.

His eyes rake over you—the new pretty secretary who won't meet his eyes as though you’d heard all about him.

It's why he waits. Biding his time before gracing your desk. A file in hand, leaning down—forcing your eyes to meet his. Javi's smirk almost eclipses his face, only doing so when you lift your chin and he finds your lips have slid so far up one side as you stare at his hand.

Agent Pe— I know who you are, Peña. Your reputation precedes you. Good things, I hope? Depends on who you ask.

You call him Peña all the time. Even as days slip into weeks, even if he insists you call him Javier or Javi. The tension building, thickening—just like a dish left on a hob.

He’s used to the whispers, but he’s not used to the ignorance. The way you don’t look at him like the others, instead always trying to find out what he needs from you, rather than what he wants.

It allows him the chance to study, to watch. Noticing the way you work, the way you converse easily with others and how you walk around the office like you barely notice him.

It wasn’t through a lack of trying why he hadn’t worsened his reputation. It wasn’t fear of fucking you, of muddying his place of work further—his focus, mission, objective wasn’t to keep the piece inside crumbling Colombian walls. It was more that the fact his usual tactics weren’t working even when his intention was there, clear as the sky on a sunny morning.

You seemed stressed. Aren’t we all, Peña? I know how to get around that… I’ve heard.

It’s not that your tongue is quick or icy—it’s that you do it all without looking at him. You bite back without lifting your eyes or turning to him when he stands beside you. An indifference he had usually woven under in the time you’ve been here, but finding troublesome with you.

So, he tries smiling when smoke swirls around the ceiling fan, and you drop a file off; he drops his voice when he bumps into you by the water machine, holding your sight—commanding it. Which is why he notices the irritation simmering in yours. Growing, and grating more so by his mere breath, never mind his words.

You don’t like me much. I don’t know you. You could. Know me. What would be the point, Peña? You don’t listen, you interrupt everyone, you fuck everything with a pulse— Tell me how you really feel, hermosa. I’m trying, but once again, you’re only half listening.

Determined—that’s how he was often described.

It was, for this reason, that he has poured so many of his years into catching Escobar. Why he’d looked for whores to get information, not banking on caring and emotions. It’s why he hadn’t looked for anything outside of a quick fuck, a friend, or a sense of belonging—he didn’t have another ounce left in him. It was all spent on the reason he was here: narcos.

There had been others, naturally. Not all bent to his charm, even if the majority did. He should add you to the list, to the small pile that had amassed through the building and beyond.

Javi doesn’t.

And it doesn’t get better, easier. You decline his invites for drinks, even if you do begin to aid him. You refuse grabbing food for lunch with him, even if you have started taking paperwork off him to type up. You’ve even begun making comments, funny ones about his typing abilities, even shooting him a smile as you travel back to your desk. Yet, you don’t even let him drive you home when your car isn’t working.

Purposefully, you’re a bag of mixed messages. Not because you decline him but because he cannot find a rational reason as to why. You’ve begun moving his paperwork up, but you flirt back. Flimsy, thin excuses find your tongue quicker when he invites you to drinks, not even just with him.

You’re confusing. A brand of difficult he hadn’t had the opportunity to circle before, something which bothers the shit out of him.

Which is why he’s coating his throat in whiskey—getting through his pack of Marlboro’s quicker than he usually would be in a bar like this.

Because, while he doesn’t get you, he hates work functions more. Despising with each growing minute that he’s at one.

He prefers to choose his company—paid or unpaid. And the sole reason he’d even gone in the first place was to get you to stop calling him Peña—and to keep the CIA away from you.

He ends up being successful at one of those things. It’s not that he wasn’t sure how to befriend women, just that he usually chooses not to. He ruins any possibility of it by turning on the charm, having their blouse in his fingers and his hand stuffed in their lace. Even for all his charm, it is hard to get them back on his side when he doesn’t call them, or mistakenly calls out the wrong name or avoids them.

It’s why he knows his name is dirt amongst several secretaries. He’s aware of how gossip spreads like wildfire amongst the secretaries, receptionists, file room assistants, watching it happen as their eyes glisten when he walks past, their whispers dropping an octave when he is within ears reach.

You don’t partake in it. Digging your pretty eyes into him rather than fluttering your eyelashes. You can put those puppy-dog eyes away, Peña. I’m immune to putas. You can wait like everyone else. Chin lifting at the last second, smothering him in stifled stress and a please-don't-push-me-look. It’s how he learnt you were going for drinks with the CIA, how he discovered the bar and time.

Why he went in the first place.

It crossed his mind this could be the night. He could keep you company, find a way in when your wall was down because of the liquor on your tongue. The moment fizzled when he chose to be a gentleman—helping you into his car, guiding you into your place. Even holding your hair back as you vomited the contents of your stomach out. Maybe he should have warned you about doing shots with Jacoby in the first place, but then, he wouldn’t be alone with you.

See the way you put your weapons down and looked at him pitifully when you couldn’t get the key in your door.

I’ve got you, Bonita. Bet you say—hiccup—that to all the whores. You’re not a whore. No. No, I’m not.

He’d expected you to push him, fight him once inside your place, but you were silent. Occasionally frowning with glossed-over eyes as he continued to help you. You even allow him to help you to bed—without so much as removing his clothes. He’d been almost out of your bedroom door when he heard it:

Still gonna call you Peña, Peña. I know, bonita. There’s a glass of water on your table.

It played on his mind.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be chivalrous, just that it was rare. Stuffed down into his tight jeans and under layers of Colombian grief. While he cares about the people in his life, even the ones at arms reach—the ones he pays and the ones he takes home from a hard day—he doesn’t show it. Keeping it tightly wrapped and away, not willing to let simple and futile emotions blur the lines of why he was here.

So it surprises him when you leave him a thank you.

A small note on his desk attached to a bottle containing amber and a large packet of Marlboros.

Still think you’re an asshole, Peña.

It was the worst thank you note he’s ever had, yet it made him smile. Unthreads annoyances of his day, sewing in a piece of niceness in a tapestry of shit.

What he did know is that the window of sleeping with you was growing smaller, only fully shutting on him when he uncapped the bottle and poured you a glass when you knocked on his door for his signature. The small office he resided in—all dark, simmering with disappointment and failure after another dead end. Not that you commented on it—even if your eyes narrowed and your lips spread thin.

You were polite like that. Didn’t call into question or hold a mirror up to him. Just let him be. Tapping your glass against his, his eyes watching as you take a sip—not hissing, not flinching as the taste slides down your throat. Not even when it collects somewhere in your stomach. If anything, you smile.

Running his hand along his chin, letting his eyes roam as you take in the walls—the files. Your glass teetering on your bottom lip, painted in a shade he wanted staining on various parts of his body—

“Surprised you’re having a drink with me, Peña,” you say, all airy and light—glancing over your shoulder, shining him in mischievous twinkles. “Especially when you could be… paying for better company.”

He snorts at that, lets a laugh escape—puncture the air. “You know, you bring it up so often, bonita. I’m beginning to think you’re jealous.”

“Not in the slightest—I don’t do one-night stands.”

“Two night stands?” He muses.

And you smirk. Gloriously. Wide and large, the closest he’s gotten you to smile. “If it’s good enough to go back again, why stop at twice?”

He struggles for a retort, the acidic nature of it being swallowed by whiskey as he raises his glass to his lips.

Then it shifts the conversation. Returns to normal, safer topics, finding he snorts a few more times as the drinks flow. Even finding you pull a rich laugh from him—one that erases some of the tension, unknots his shoulders from his ears.

It isn’t until he hears the sweetness of your laugh that he finds that a quarter of the bottle has gone. The paper you’d come in to have signed, still at the top of a forgotten pile.

You weren't looking, having already turned your back to him, eyes fixed on the wall—the little pins and photos. Allowing him to run his eyes along your back, to your clothe-covered hips and the curves that had been front and centre of his thoughts when he fucked his fist. Your name has been simmering on his tongue for weeks, since you’d been introduced.

Something stopping him from acting on his thoughts, from standing up and coming up behind you. That very thing being the foundation of what he’d been after from the start.

“Am I still an asshole, bonita?” He asks when he finally signs the sheet.

You take the paper, offering a softer smile with a head tilt. “We should drink in your office again. You’re less of one in here, Javi.”

“It’s cheaper.” “Cheaper?” You groan, and he slides his hand over his face to hide his smile. “Fine, Peña—“ “Javi. Come on, bonita. We made progress.” Glaring, you straighten your spine. “Javi, I wanna eat greasy food in a baggy t-shirt and watch shit TV that I can only partially keep up with. Do you want to do that with me?” How could he say no? “Do I have to eat greasy food?” “Yes. It’s the law.” Snorting, he picks up the file, tapping the end of your desk. “I’ll be there around nine.”

You’re everywhere.

He begins finding you at his favourite food stand, conversing with the owner, grin so large it hits your eyes. Another time, you’re at the shop on the corner near his place, brown bag in hand, a knowing nod sent his way when you pass.

It throws him off, continuing to do so until it changes, and he comes to expect you. Doesn’t brace or freeze, but welcomes you. Leaning into it that you’re there, everywhere he doesn’t expect you to be. Slowly, bleeding across his life, planting yourself in the soil he hadn’t known surrounded him.

Your name falls from his lips with simplicity, you call him Javi as though it’s all you’ve ever called him.

Things shifting, changing just like the temperature in Bogotá. He chooses to sit beside you when he spots you at the bar, and not close to the table who were giggling and whispering at his arrival. He opts to ask you for help, over the secretary who has been giving him heart-shaped eyes since she heard something or another.

Javi is smart, and isn't an idiot. He knows it has shifted. Changed.

For the better, he isn’t entirely sure.

He finds comfort in you in a way he doesn’t usually pay for. The desire to fuck you because you were attractive lessening, and rather because, on some level, he suspected he actually liked you. Especially when you invited him for drinks at yours, instead of a bar.

It was easier not to question it. To not change. To not ask and ruin it. He went round to yours, or you to his. A gap forming, welcomed and strong. Javi fucked who he wanted to fuck, and sought companionship (fully clothed, a glass of liquor variation in hand) from you. The contents of it shifted depending entirely on the situation. Sometimes, it was accompanied by home-cooked food, and sometimes he brought warm trays in a bag that you groaned in appreciation upon arrival.

Javi told himself you reminded him of Laredo. Of high-school friends and easy laughter. You reminded him of girls who never became more than friends, the ones he’d grown apart from when they settled and married, and he ran as far away as possible.

That and he just liked your company. You made it easy. You were his… Friend.

You were something different than what he had with Carillo. Something other than the partnership he was now bedding in with Murphy.

You had embedded yourself as much in work as you were out of it. As time ticked on, his brain slowly filled with useless information about likes and dislikes in a drawer in his mind, he marked just for you. They weren’t things he usually didn’t care to know about anyone. Not since he’d been in Colombia. Not since he’d been in Laredo, where he’d never been short of a friend to two.

Being your friend became a thing he suddenly wanted to cling to. Not wanting to lose it—lose you, not wanting to fuck it up.

So, he didn’t.

Even if you looked at him with pretty eyes, dragging your tongue across your bottom lip. Even if sometimes the silenced humming with something different, something less friendly.

He cared.

Really cared. He found himself annoyed if you seemed a little off, and found himself wanting to make you smile. The two of you spread past the line into an area out of his usual wheelhouse. Friendship. A relationship that had him around your place so many nights a week, tucking into spirits and beer you’d begun keeping just for him. It was normal. Nice.

Or it was, until you curled into one side of the sofa, him on the other. Your foot isn’t close to his thigh, no leg draped over his—your behaviour not like normal.

He’d put it down to another shit date. One he’d been tortured with hearing about—the only downside to the arrangement, the friendship.

But, as you wrap your fingers around your calf, he realises it isn’t the date, the bad food or the day.

“Being your friend is kinda hard.”

Frowning, he sits up a little more. “Why?”

You shrug. He doesn’t like it when you do. You have answers, usually quick ones. A shrug meaning you don’t or you’re afraid of speaking them—letting them ball and fester in your throat.

“‘Cause you do thoughtful shit, and it makes me think things.”

He bites his smirk, and savours it. Knowing and understanding more than he can acknowledge as he folds his arms. “Not a smart move, thinking about me, hermosa.”

“Don’t I know it.”

"Bonita...."

"Why'd you call me that?"

You don't ask it rudely, more questionably. Brows knitting together in confusion as you watch him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not in the slightest."

He smirks, letting out a sharp laugh. "Go get another drink, bonita."

“So, the two of you haven’t… you know?” Leaning in the chair, he stares at him. “No. We haven’t.” “I don’t believe you?” Smirking, he shifts his hips. “Go ask her. She’ll say the same.” He snorts. “You’re telling me you go round her place, have fun, laugh, and leave—I don’t believe it.” “Believe it, Murphy.”

It’s hard not to call back to the words spoken that night.

Let them loop around and around, wrap themselves around other phrases—micro-expressions and bothersome avoidance.

Your eyes were dark, chin resting on your knee, looking at him as though you wanted to burn everything to the ground. He’d swallowed, and hesitated—two things he never did.

But with you, he wasn’t exactly himself.

You had found a way to unlock a part of him he kept away from everyone else. He was still an asshole, still selfish and cocky. But he also bit back more around you and found ways to annoy you playfully, rather than to piss you off.

“Here.”

“You bought me a book?”

He smirks, gripping his arms as he watches you turn it over, “You like reading.”

Smirking, you scan the blurb, your brain trying to translate it quickly. “What gave you that impression?”

Shrugging, he trails a finger across his bottom lip. The signature smirk started growing, spreading, eclipsing whatever was there previously.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, hermosa. I see you reading on your lunch.” He looks you up and down. “Thought you could do with some fresh material.”

“So you bought me a romance book.”

Dropping his arms, he rolls his lips. “Everyone needs a little romance in their life, don’t they?”

“Well, you’re the expert. I hear you’ve been getting some “romance” nightly,” you smirk, placing the book down.

He had.

Almost determined to do so. Needing to bury himself to the hilt in others to distract him from you. Secretly thinking of you, trying to imagine the way your skin would feel under his calloused palms.

“Jealous, bonita?”

Smiling, you tilt your head. “Why? I’ve got a romance book.”

He tries to tell himself he’s not affected by you.

That it’s protectiveness why he sits at the bar in the restaurant you’re in. Why he chooses a seat where he can see the reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles, able to see you without watching you.

He tells himself it’s to ensure you’re okay. Nothing else. The convincing goes well until your finger taps him on the shoulder, practically dragging him outside by his elbow.

The cooler temperature bites his skin, but your eyes full of fire keep him warm. Digging into him, inflicting flames that lick at muscle and bone.

“Why are you here, Peña?”

He masks a shudder. “Don’t… don’t call me, Peña—“

“—you fucked all the whores?”

“I was drinking.”

Raising your brow, you fold your arms. “You’re ruining my date.”

He lets his eyes drop. Knowing he is. He knew he would when he scrunched the piece of paper in his hand as he overheard you talking about some black dress and little heels for it.

The same ones you’re standing in front of him in, looking nothing short of radiant—the slightest shiver misting over you.

“You deserve better.”

Folding your arms, you sigh. “What, like you?”

He runs a hand over his chin, leaning against the wall. “No, bonita. Better than me.”

You bite the inside of your lip, the shiver more obvious. So much so, he removes his jacket, considering draping it over you, but instead hands it to you.

“Look, I know I ruined your date, but he’s an asshole.”

Swallowing, you let out a heavy breath. “I’m mad at you, but… he really is awful.”

He smothers his relief. Ensures his tone is normal as he murmurs, “Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your lip. “Can you… could y—“

“Go get your bag, hermosa.”

It’s quiet, the car ride.

Your knee nervously bounces, the fabric of your dress rising up your thigh as you do.

He’s being tested. He’s sure of it. Adamantly so when he pulls up outside yours, and you invite him in. It’s confirmed when you tell him to help himself while you change, stepping into your room.

A version of him wanting to follow. To place his hand on the back of your neck, the other tilting your chin up, kissing the name of your date tonight. Pulling your body close, making it forget it ever shivered from anything less than pleasure.

He thinks about it as he fills his glass, and keeps yours empty. Javi thinks it as his jeans become tight and his pulse quickens, wondering if you sprayed your perfume anywhere other than your neck and wrist—whether you’d taste as sweetly as you say his name. Whether you’d dig your nails in when he stuffed you full of him—

“Not pouring me one?”

Blinking, you’re in his T-shirt and some leggings.

The former is something you’d borrowed when you’d spilt food on your blouse. A band tee, one from a concert when he was younger and happier, and less confused what the fuck all of this meant.

He hadn’t realised how much he had been holding himself back until you sank onto your sofa, looking serious—brows and forehead creasing.

It made him want to nurse it out of you, find a solution to stop you from worrying or overthinking.

“You’ve never tried to sleep with me.”

He scoffs, loud and undignified. The sentence catches and cuts through the air. All the letters of it punctuated by a thin silence, lightly chopped—not allowing interjection or regret.

You're waiting.

Nervously. Plucking your bottom lip between your white teeth like you’re picking guitar strings.

He considers telling you the truth. That fucking you had been the sole and only intention for a long time. Seeing if you could bend in two, what noises you would make—see if he could get you to chant his name.

That had been his goal… until it wasn’t.

Javi drains his glass, knowing you’re astute. That you work with agents of all kinds—you hold your fucking own around all sorts of them. So you know (of course you know) when someone is lying—so he offers something else entirely.

A slither of truth, an offering of it—if that.

“Didn’t wanna fuck this up, bonita.”

You take a sip of your own, not smiling, not smirking. Silence thumps between the two of you as you likely process the information, both in word form and in heavy silence. Then you land your eyes on him, something blossoming in them, spreading and taking over as they seemingly darken like the sky before a storm.

“That because you don’t think you could make me come, Peña?”

He spreads his palm against his jeans, resting the glass against his other as he drags his eyes to the floor. Biting the inside of his cheek. Wondering to himself why he’d stopped trying so quickly, knowing he was usually much more persistent. His perseverance was why he was still here, hunting Escobar. Yet, he’d folded like a piece of fucking paper when it came to you.

“Fine,” you commented, placing your glass down. “If we… don’t want to fuck this up. I think we need a codeword. An unsexy one. One that sorta tells the other to stop doing whatever they’re fucking doing….”

“Because…?”

You give him a look, a sharp one with soft edges. “Because we’re friends, right?”

He nods.

“So, as friends, I need a word to shout at you when you’re… Peñaring.” Frowning, he watches you smirk. “Javi, you’re handsome. And I spend… I spend more time with you than anyone else. The whole time I was on that date, I was thinking of you—and then there you fucking were. Being my friend.”

No. He thinks.

Knowing inside of him he wasn’t there to be your friend, but something he can’t quite acknowledge. A thing which vibrates inside of him, that gallops when you’re around and worsens when you’re not.

A thing he cannot give into. Not with what he does.

Not with what happened to Helena…

The remembrance, the horrid wake-up call that continues to paralyse him. The larger need to keep you safe.

“You like whores and quick-fucks. I like fucking one person who will only fuck me while they’re fucking me. And, I need the word—a word—because we spend a lot of time together, and you look like you do.”

His lip twitches, his moustache moving as he drags his eyes back to you. Unsure how you haven’t thrown it out there that you looking the way you do is also a problem.

As though you’re ignoring how fucking sinful you always look—especially in his fucking clothes.

He doesn’t because, if anything, he doesn’t hate the idea. Not immediately. Somewhat struggling to hide the way you make his cock twitch when you flirt, when you lean on his desk, the top two buttons undone on your blouse. That he sometimes fucks and wishes it was you and not the woman he’s chosen.

The two of you toeing the line of being friends to the point it sometimes makes his head hurt and his cock throb.

“What you got in mind?”

“Apuñalarme?”

He shouldn’t be surprised you’d thought of a word. Always methodical, always thinking ahead.

“Thinkin’ that one could be taken the wrong way.”

Frowning, you reach forward for some of the leftovers. “How?”

He stares, and then he swallows. “Well, I could stab you with my co—“

“OKAY. Fine. Who knew it would be so hard to pick a word to keep our friendship intact? What about… arepa?”

Taking a sip of his drink, his brow slowly arched.

“Well, it’s food—“

“Food can be sexy, bonita.”

“Yes, but if I said arepas, I don’t think: fuck me, Peña—I think fuck I could really eat some stuffed arepas with my friend Peña. Plus, we can then use it around people, ‘cause they’ll just think I’m after food.”

He plays with the glass, staring at your coffee table as he takes it in. Considering it. Finding it plausible—a good enough excuse. A thing to say other than ‘I don’t wanna hear about you going on a date, bonita’—probably around the same as you don’t wanna hear about his conquests.

You’re nervous, teeth picking at your skin.

Something blooming in his chest, smothering warmth across his heart and skin. You want to be his friend—you want him in your life.

“Alright, bonita, let’s give it a go.”

You pout, sighing. “You driving me home?” “Arepas.” “Funny, Peña. So funny.” “You made the rule, bonita.” Rolling your lips, he watches as you fold your arms under your dress. The fabric flows, blowing around your legs. “I can make this hard for you.” “That so?” He should have guessed it from the smirk alone. “I’m not wearing any underwear,” you say, pulling on his door handle and stepping in before slamming it. Leaving him processing, eyes staring at where you’d just been standing.

It became complicated in Medellín.

The routine, the lines—the friendship.

Everyone is forced all under one roof. The closer proximity means he has to listen to how the others talk to you, how you smile, and how you laugh with every single person. He can’t avoid your laugh—especially the ones you force from bad jokes. Javi has to listen to how others talk about you and how they describe the way they look at you.

He also has to deal with how your perfume simmers in the air here, how it lingers and clings, even if he does his best to drown it out with smoke.

In truth, he knows he is just annoyed that you’re even there, to begin with. And, not in Bogotá—where you would have been safer.

And, as annoying as he finds it, Javi supposes you must suffer through your fair share. His eyes catch yours when someone has called for him, his voice low, a smirk halfway up his face until he sees you ducking your head.

At the end of the first few days, he realises he misses his evenings with you back in Bogotá. Now, he has to share you in the open office space or hope you’re both free to go to one of the shitty bare rooms you’d both been given.

Yours at least was more private, Messina having fought for you to have your own as soon as you were relocated to her.

“Jealous, Peña?” “Yes, hermosa. You don’t have to share with Murphy.”

It worsens when he learns you’re single again.

You populate his thoughts all over again, having previously stifled them when he knew you were taken. Now that the few month-long situation-ship with someone from the president's building had ended, he found you half a bottle of wine down in your room with several sad Spanish songs.

When you’re single, it’s complicated. Messy.

He can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him. Before, he could convince himself that flirting is just how the two of you talk. He could comment slyly how he could give you a reason to be silent or him unable to tear his eyes off you when you bend down to get him something from the bottom shelf.

Even if you’re taken, he thinks arepas repeatedly as you look up at him with wide eyes and gloss-covered lips. But, it’s harmless when you’re unavailable—a foundation of who the two of you were. Now it was confusing again.

Especially when you begin wearing tight jeans. And you wait until Murphy leaves to pull his chair across and place a bottle on his desk.

“I need to get drunk.”

Blowing into a spare mug, Javi slams it down next to the bottle. “We can’t leave the base.”

“No, we cannot.”

“Any reason as to why you wanna get drunk?”

You uncap the bottle, glaring at him as you clamp your lips together. The sound of alcohol sloshing into the mug before you begin pouring him one.

“Hermosa…”

You take a mouthful from the mug, flicking your eyes to him as he leans back, whispering your name.

“I’m frustrated.”

“Messina busting your—“

“Not like that, Javi.”

It takes him a second.

A second too long for him, and then he almost chokes on his drink. “Arepas.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back in Murphy’s chair. “You asked.”

His thoughts run ahead of him. The idea of pressing you against the desk, hooking a finger in a belt loop as he tugs your tight jeans to your thighs. The way you’d moan his name—not Javier, Javi. Your hands splayed across his desk, taking everything he—

“—so I need to get drunk because otherwise, I’m going to jump someone, because this job is stressful, and I miss my place, my… privacy, and I also miss food truck nights.”

Swallowing, he places his mug down.

“I need to have sex—“

“—Arepas—“

“But by someone who won’t lord it over me.”

You stare at your mug, swirling it—biting the bottom of your lip as you do.

And he’s all set to tell you that you drive him crazy, that he’d make you feel good—you just have to ask. His hand slides across the desk, all set to tug your hand closer as he mumbles it.

Then fucking Murphy arrives.

Him slamming a mug down next to the bottle, muttering about crashing the party as he massages his temple and slides back into his chair.

It consumes him. The thoughts which he has let run free in the brief moment with you. How he’d fill you and make you hiss his name and make you come undone until you had no thoughts left.

If he thinks he’s alone, you show your cards when he’s helping you move your bed.

Your eyes are on him as he leans against the metal frame, staring off as he processes how he will have to move it. He doesn’t notice that the edge of his tan shirt has risen until he feels your eyes on him.

“Arepas!”

He flinches, ripped from his thoughts as he blinks, turning to look at you, watching you shift on the spot, a slow realisation coming to him as to why you shouted it. A smirk so large spreading, not even trying to hide it.

“I haven’t… I haven’t even fuckin’ done anything.”

You fold your arms, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks, the pulse in your ears. “Yes, well… I’ll move the bed myself.”

“Bonita?”

“—I gotta go—“

“This is your room.”

But you’re already heading to the door, flustered. He calls your name, but you’re gone—leaving him with only your scent and the last trailing sound of your voice.

For a second, staring at the empty doorway, not hating it for one minute, all of it evidenced by the growing smirk on his face.

The one not easily rid, even by the end of the day.

“Your room is…. nice?” He sniggers, grabbing his jacket as you stand awkwardly. “Y’alright, bonita?” Swallowing, you narrow your eyes when they land on him. Not cutting, but assessing. “Why have I heard from two separate people that they’ve been warned from me?” Shrugging his shoulders, he slides his arms into his jacket, frowning—painting it on thickly, maybe even by too much. “Javi.” “What?” You look at him, challenging him. Looking every bit like the secretary he met in Bogotá and less like the friend he’s come to know you as. “Did you warn people from asking me out?” Adjusting his jacket, he sighs. “Yeah. I did.”

Javi knows many things about you.

Some he has learnt against his will, others he’s learnt from watching you. One thing he knows, more than anything else, is that you’re never late. Not even if the world was on fire.

It’s why it coils inside him when he’s standing at the stairwell waiting for you. It chills him, prickles something inside. And then, it knots as his watch ticks on ripples out as more seconds become minutes.

He must shift, stress rolling off of him as he finds Steve’s brow raised, flicking his eyes up at him before shaking his head.

“Go on. I’ll let Messina know you’re both on your way.”

He doesn’t thank him, even if he makes a note to do so later. His feet taking the steps two at a time. Palm brushes over people as he moves them so he can get to your door quicker.

It’s his sole thing, a crystallising focus that glimmers like a goal, a light around your door as he makes a beeline for it. For you. Not slowing or stopping until he’s outside of it, his knuckles hammering into it.

He tries not to smirk at the expletives he hears, the mix of English and Spanish coming from the other side. The beautiful blend he’s heard so often when you’ve dropped food, wine or burnt yourself.

“One minute—“

“It’s me, bonita.”

He expects to hear a noise. Javi doesn’t expect a pause. A lengthy one.

“Oh.”

Oh? He thinks.

“Um, Javi, just gimme….”

It bubbles.

It fucking roars. It produces steam and fire—all of it feeling a lot like jealousy. Because: do you have someone in there with you? His jaw tightens at the idea, almost snapping into pieces, hammering against his feet. He hears a loud crash to the floor, shattering. His mind conjures images of two pairs of feet (at best), two awkward souls trying to move around one another littered by a sea of expletives and hisses.

“Bonita… open the f—door.”

He doesn’t mean to use a tone. Unable to cage it, the fury which doubles and triples inside of him. Only just about managed to stifle the word fucking from being in the sentence.

Javi regrets it when you rip open your door, standing with more skin on show than he’s ever seen. Your privacy is covered by the thinnest pieces of black lace possible—lace that would be easy to snap, to rip from you as he drags his eyes up and down.

Unable to think; unable to process—

“I overslept.”

“…Bonita…”

“I am running late.”

“I can see that.”

You jab him, light, making your body twist as you do. Something he can’t tear his eyes from, least of all when you turn, his feet following. It’s autopilot as he shuts your door behind him, not hearing another person—the anger and jealousy simmering at knowing you’re alone.

You’re just… in your underwear.

Around him.

“Arepas.”

“What?” you call out, bending down, grabbing clothes as he averts his eyes.

His brain forces his feet to come to a stop, his hand adjusting himself as he tries to swallow. Because whatever he’d imagined you’d look like, has just been beaten—you’re… fucking gorgeous.

“Nothing,” he manages, staring around your place. Finding a bottle of half-drunk wine on the desk—sat beside one glass. “You had a fun night without me?”

You laugh, turning to face you, finding you with trousers on. “I… I’m struggling to sleep… here.”

He can relate.

“How was Gabby?”

He pulls a face, wiping a hand over his face. “Yeah—she’s fine.”

You fasten your blouse, moving towards him, closer and closer, until you’re in front of him, and his mind is fucking blank.

“You’re standing over my shoes, Javi.”

It shouldn’t stick to him—your words. But they do. How they’re sickly sweet, how they clag and cling to the edges of his mind as he tries to concentrate. He’s typing, and then he’ll replay it, fingers pausing on the heavy keys of the typewriter.

Fuck.

Not able to tear his fucking eyes off of you. Not that you have noticed. You barely look his way with the mountain of shit Messina’s given you to do in one day. Hammering down on you, reminding them all they can’t make mistakes—more so since the toilet debacle. The heaviness of how close they’d been weighed on them. All of them.

So close.

He watches you stand up, calling after someone as you do a little run in your heels until there’s none of you left to watch. Staring at where you’d been, somehow still flickering between seeing you the way he saw you this morning and the well-put-together version just in here.

“What’s up with you?

“Nothing.”

Steve snorts, leaning against the wall. “Y’sure?”

“Yeah.”

“‘cause you look like—“

“She answered the door in her fuckin’ underwear.”

Steve widens his eyes, pulling out his cigarettes. “And that’s something you’ve not seen before?”

He glares. Chewing a retort as he furiously stubs out his cigarette.

“Alright, so, now what?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

“Your word come in use?”

He shoots another glare, watching his partner hold his hands up.

“Not fucking helping, Murphy.”

“The fuck you mean she was sent to take some papers?” Him storming out of the building, hearing Murphy close behind. Not thinking. Thumb brushes over his fingers as something surges through him. Thumping. Building. Pushing past people, moving out of the way from the ones he comes into contact with, stepping out into the warm air as he sees hell. Men bleeding, carried by other men. His heart in his throat, furiously pounding, unsure where to start, where to go— Then he sees you. Time slows, people coming to a halt as he watches you and his feet begin to move. His hands guide him past people, walking and walking until he pulls you close—not caring for the blood on his shirt from your head, or the way you whimper when you crash into him. He meets your eyes, staring into them, finding his throat dry as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Arepas.” “Arepas…” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

When it rains, it pours.

It’s what he thinks as he sinks another glass, elbowing digging into the desk, all set to shout at Messina to leave him alone, suspecting she had returned.

But then, he’d seen you.

Face lit up by the yellowing light, a softness to your features and a shyness to your frame.

Javi isn’t sure what he’s expecting. Whether the guilt would shift at the sight of you, whether the sadness would stop laying on thickly.

For a second, nothing happens.

He doesn’t move. You don’t move.

And then he’s standing, and you’re crossing the room, pulling him close, hands around him as you keep him close. It’s friendly, he thinks—suspects. A simple hug. Something the two of you have done only a handful of times, but twice so recently.

In the fog of regret and alcohol, he can barely convince himself, his grip on it lost when you’re in his lap. His face in your neck, bathed in you—the distinct scent which clings to some of his clothes, the warmth he feels when he knows he shouldn’t.

It’s easy, simple—and also everything.

Shards of himself held in place by your grip on him, his own hand placing the glass down so he can clutch you that much tighter.

It isn’t him. A thing he’s acutely aware of, yet he buries his face into your neck. Breath dancing along your neck, feeling you still, wondering if you’re thinking the word as he is when you pull back, eyes meeting his.

“Oh, Javi…”

He chews his tongue, lessening his hold on you. Allowing you to move—giving you free rein to leave.

“Messina send you?”

You stand, tilting the bottle beside the glass, staring at the label. Your silence fills the gaps, finding the cracks of regret and guilt, layering itself thickly in it.

Answer me, he thinks. Almost wanting to command it.

“Boni—“

“No,” you say, curt, sharp.

Your eyes dig in, taking a step back, running the back of your hand over your forehead.

“Didn’t… I haven’t even seen her.”

He could speak, but it would be useless. No words can conjure that would make any of it okay—heaviness adding in bulk to his shoulders as he stands. Making his legs feel like jelly and his spine wanting to bend.

And then, he’s walking towards you, your back meeting a wall as he presses you against the wall, keeping you close. Just like you were minutes ago.

He traces the tip of his nose against your cheek, catching the scent of your perfume. Your eyes are on him, watching his movements as he places his hand on your hip.

“Arepas…”

He snorts, pressing his forehead softly against yours. “You want me to stop, bonita?”

Your lips twitch, eyes flicking.

A thousand thoughts dashing and darting in the shades he has memorised. Then you’re moving closer, mouth delicately pressing against his—testing, teasing. Saying no wordlessly.

It’s easy to return it, to give in—to kiss you like he has thought about since your name fell from your lips. A thousand missed moments and building will-they-won’t-they slamming into the both of you.

It’s why it shifts, his mouth not being gentle, his grip more desperate. His tongue sliding past your teeth, your hips flush against his as you curl your fingers into his hair.

He’s on fire. Scorched. Changed.

Flashes of you standing in the doorway in your underwear blending with the feel of you right now, how your lips move against his like the two are you well-versed in kissing one another.

“Dreamt about you, bonita.”

You murmur at his words, whimpering at his teeth, latching on the space under your lobe and neck.

“Thought of the sounds I’d make you make….”

“Fuck, Javi...”

Your nails dig into his neck, pulling and twisting him so you can marry your lips back to his. You kiss him like you want to conquer him, and own him. Something you’ve done since the moment you met—something he responds with how he licks into your mouth. Just pausing at your moan, tasting it—capturing it.

Your lips part as you clutch his cheek, breath ghosting as he lets dark brown wash over you. “I’m here. I’m here, Javi.”

He knows what you mean, what you’re implying: I’m here, you need someone, I’m yours.

The sound of him swallowing sounds louder, sharper—even against his ears as he flicks his sight over you. You’re better than it, better than him. You’re too good, too perfect—something he doesn’t want to break, snap or ruin.

Sometimes, you’re the only thing that feels untouched, unblemished. You were the one who saw him after he’d gotten back from the brothel. When Carillo…

He blinks, finding your fingers still on his cheek, eyes still on him—but he’s unsure if he’s misheard you. Misunderstood.

You don’t do quick fucks.

But you’re clever. You’re always fucking clever. Kissing him, hooking a finger in a belt loop, pulling him flush. As you show him that you mean it.

“Need you, Javi. Just you.”

He growls, moving you to push you down on the awkward, creaking bed. He watches dumbfounded as your fingers begin to aid the removal of your clothes. Exposing skin, inch by inch, to him—looking every bit inviting as you have done since the first day he fucking met you.

Throwing your trousers to some distant corner, he parts your knees with his waist, pushing the damp green lace to the side, as he coats his finger in your want.

“Javi…”

“You suit green, bonita.”

He eases a finger in, watching your mouth part as he does.

“But, I can’t stop picturing that black set.”

“Like it, did you?”

It’s breathy, desperate. Your lips ghost over his as he stiffens, pausing his ministrations, needing to look you in the eyes.

“It’s all I’ve thought about since, bonita.”

Leaning over, he captures your moan, sliding in another finger as his name vibrates against his lips. Your eyes are so full of adoration, lust and want—it almost shatters him—but it’s the desperation that coils around him. The neediness which is falling from your lips makes him want more.

He’s thorough, listening to your whines, finding each place inside you that makes you twitch and moan. He’s learning you, studying every inch, so he can please you from the get-go—if he ever gets the chance again.

It’s his knuckle that undoes you the first time, rolling quick circles around the bundle of nerves which has fingers in his hair and your breath against his cheek.

Javi, fuck—you, Javi, you.

His breathing is shallow when you come down, feeling your hands—shaky but determined—tugging him to join you in being naked, his hand grabbing the one thing he needs outside of you.

“Wanna taste you, but need to fuck you, bonita. Can I? Can I fuck your pretty pussy?”

You groan, kissing his jaw and his neck. A chorus of yes and pleases bless his skin as his teeth rip the wrapper, fingers expertly sliding it over his length to not waste time.

And then, your fingers leave bruises as you tug on his chin, pulling his eyes to you. A thought rolls, building; Tell me I’ve not ruined this. That I’ve not fucked up another thing.

“Yours, Javi. I’m yours.”

His hand clutches your cheek, fingers pressing against your ear and hairline as you nod. His mouth smothers yours, stealing a moan, air and whatever thoughts were trying to populate. He does so as he lines himself up with you, when you wrap him in warm bliss.

Your fingers on his shoulders, digging in, please move, Javi. And then, his hips move with yours, something swelling inside of him, a thing which makes it hard to stop kissing you, to ever want to stop being between your thighs—

He doesn’t usually fuck like this.

It starts that way, but never ends that way—and yet here he is. Never with them on their backs, eye to eye, lip to lip. But then, you’ve never been them. You’re nothing like them.

And he won’t move, can’t. He slides his tongue past your teeth and grips your hip that bit tighter as he feels your walls grip him desperately.

“Feel so good, Javi—y’fuck me so good.”

He knows.

Knows because you’re fucking heavenly—perfection sent just for him. Something he whispers into your lips, lets you taste it as he feels you getting closer and closer.

Then he just hears you. And the sound is prettier than his mind could ever conjure.

Just feels you. And it's better than he ever thought it could feel.

Then, there's nothing else, until he feels pleasure—until it’s white light and your name spluttering from his lips. Your hands in his hair, hips slowing with his as his lips sloppily find yours.

“We should talk.” You frown, looking over your desk as he leans both palms down. “Bonita… we had sex.” “A few times, if I recall.” “You… you seem rather calm about this?” You smirk, lifting your mug to your lips. “Should I not be?” He’s silent, uncharacteristically so. Never short of words, not with you. “Javi, I almost fucking died… then Carrillo… I-I needed… I just needed you.” “Bonita…” “I don’t need pity. Do not worry. I’m not expecting anything, I know you, I’m not complicating this, and I’m not asking to change you. I like you as you are, and I know for you, last night for you was just a one-night thing—” He whispers your name, wrapped in confusion and surprise— Your hand pats his chest, “—and I’m off to the funeral. Please try not to drown yourself in whiskey while I’m gone.” “You know I’m not going...” Smiling, you let your fingers linger on his shirt button, twisting it. “You don’t do funerals—it was one of the first things you told me.” Letting your hand drop before you walk away, leaving him with his thoughts.

It unravels.

Looking every bit like the day he’d been running around the ranch, knocking into the table beside his momma’s armchair, watching in horror as spools of cotton spread out. They ran uncontrollably away, undoing in a fit of rainbow shades and mess. It had taken him an age to fix, fingers raw from cotton against his fingers.

That’s what it was like now—except he wasn’t sure he could fix it.

If anything, he knows he can't.

He realises it when he tells you. A wave of disappointment ascended and crashed in your eyes until you looked at him with an expression painted in worry. It makes him want to kiss it from you, but your hand brushes his cheek—keeping him where he was, close but not too close.

Don’t… What? Worry about you? Yeah, I don’t… I don’t deserve it. Tough, Javi. I’ve worried about you since the moment you bought me food truck food and told me I had sauce on my chin. Why's that? You just seemed like someone who I needed to worry about.

He wanted to kiss you differently then. Softly—gently. Almost greedily. Show you the words he wishes he could say easily. Let you feel how much he adores you, how much he cares, that he even wants to…

Javi doesn’t.

His brain too quick to remind him that you deserve solid truths, not hopeful lies. Tells himself that he’s anything with him will end in ruin, evidenced by the way things keep crumbling, the grip on helping having become closer to hurting.

He tries to build walls to keep you out, ones you chip out with more force than he bargained for. Your nails pulling at bricks, eyes burning through gaps: Do not keep me out, Peña.

So he stops. The energy wasted, even if he wants nothing but to protect you. Doing poorly at it—so much so he doesn’t realise you’re even swept up in it. Not in the moments where he comes find you for a moment of reprieve in the swirling hurricane he created.

You look like shit. Tell me how you really feel, bonita. Javi... I'm fine. You're not. No, I'm not.

He could kick himself when he realises it.

Only seeing it when he returns to the base, stopping short of your desk and finds it bare. No mug. No papers. No little notes you write yourself so you never forget a thing.

Bare. Empty.

There's no scent of your perfume and the air is absent of your laugh.

You had always found him, whether in his room, in a cupboard, at his desk. But, he hadn't thought to look for you today. Just put it aside, suspecting he'd find you later.

"Shit."

Sweat pools at the base of his back as he heads to Messina's. Hating himself, wondering if you'd been questioned. He'd never even tried to make sure you were okay with the knowledge of what he had done, what he continued to do in an effort to fix it.

I’m here, Javi. I'm yours, Javi.

He knows you are a part of the fallout when he sees Stechner behind Messina's desk.

It confirming it. Almost wanting to cut him off from saying your name—not wanting to hear it from his lips. Stechner says it anyway, as though knowing. Purposefully adding more poison to it and accompanying it with a cold smirk. One which almost makes him grip the man by the arm and land his fist in his teeth.

You should have stayed in your lane…

Everything tightened inside of him. While everything around him crumbled, slowly crashing down: the walls, the ceiling—the pretence.

It makes his blood run cold, his heart crack right in the centre.

Ambassador wants to see you. Get your passport.

Tightening his jaw, he hammers his feet up the stairs, taking them two by two. Needing his room, needing a moment.

His hand rubbing over his face, mind populated with memories—ones both good and bad. Your voice swirling around them. Your smile, your laugh, all appearing before they burst, showering him in a mess of confetti he’ll never be able to clean. One he doesn’t want to, if they all he has left of you.

He tries to think of his passport. Where it could be. The location of it in the mess of his room—trying not to wonder, worry or think about where you are. What his mess has done to you.

Opening the door, he comes to a halt when he finds both standing in the centre of the room.

Time comes to a stop. His heart pausing mid-slam into his ribs, the pain rippling out, as he takes you in. Watching your fingers and hand slowly rise, holding not one, but two passports, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Hi.”

He lets the door shut behind him, suddenly able to breathe. The weight, the one crushing him for ages, finally stepping up from him, allowing air to fill his lungs, allowing his chest to rise and fall as you softly smile.

“Bonita… what… how?”

“I handed my notice in… Messina, she knew about—she advised me, said it would buy me more time. It did—has. Stechner—”

It takes three strides—three—and even those felt long before his lips crashed into yours, silencing you, not wanting your pretty lips to ever mouth his name. Feeling your hand, the one clutching the passports, against his shoulder and the other on his hip. Pulling him in, wanting him—even still.

He feels like he’s dreaming, until you bite his lip. Smirking against his lips as the two of you part. The feel of it bringing him back to earth, trying not to overthink it and let the moment ruin.

Javi just holds you—like he should have done earlier this morning when he'd seen you, and from the very beginning.

Pulling you close as he humanly can, for as long as he’s able to. Doing so selfishly until both of you are just staring at one another, the gap so thin between you, you’re not all in focus.

“Ask me.”

His knuckles slide along your cheek, knowing what you’re implying. Something coiling at what you’re suggesting—something he’d thought about days ago. Regretted not asking minutes ago…

“Javi.” Your fingers wrapping around his chin. “Ask me or let me go….”

Clearing his throat and licking his lips—sighing.

Wanting to. Nothing compelled him more. But the wounded part, the one which is sore and raw, tells him not to. To put distance, space, time—and fucking everything else—between you both.

To protect you. To love you from afar.

“Be with me.”

Smiling, you whisper, “Please?”

“Please,” he adds, a light smirk threatening to spill.

You let your fingers slide over it, the little crease at the end of the hair on his upper lip. “I’m yours, Javi. All yours.”

“You have to know what that means, bo—”

“I already know,” you cut him off, fingers dancing along his cheek. "I don't care."

an: thank you for reading, feel i should apologise for the length ha!

3K notes · View notes

godessanonymous · 11 days

Text

Blame it on the Vodka - LN4

Request: No.

Genre: Fluffy (i guess)

Triggers: mentions of small injury

Summary: Partying in the Netherlands Lando gets a little injured. But you were there to fix it so its okay.

The picture of him on the boat inspired me to do this

Blame it on the Vodka – LN4 Martin Garrix had invited you to the king’s day celebration in the Netherlands, load so of people were there, famous influencers and artists and then there was you. Technically you could be categorized under the influencer division, yet you were nowhere as known as most the others here.

The invitation only got to you because you went to school with the DJ.

You were now a nurse working in a trauma center in the sunny state of Florida. A couple of years ago you and a friend started a podcast just for fun and your following on both the Podcast as well as your usual social media grew fairly quickly.

Though you were not even close to some of the people here it, your podcast and work was what made you happy.

The party was loud, you got on a boat around noon and were immediately greeted with a drink and an orange shirt to put on. You scanned the crowd around you once you had pulled the fabric over your head. The boat wasn’t huge, but It was big enough to fit a lot of people you didn’t know.

The whole city was a Party, boats on the water and orange things everywhere. You loved a little bit of partying so chances were you’d have some good fun out here. Able you probably needed a glass or two before you could truly come out of your shell.

You made your way through the dancing bodies, recognizing a face or two and giving people a big smile and muttered sorry as you squeezed past them towards the DJ Desk to greet Martin.

As soon as he spotted you his face lit up. Next to him was a familiar face, be it only from TV. F1 Driver Lando Norris, a glass in hand chatting to a girl next to him. You reached him and he immediately pulled you into warm hug. “How’ve you been? How is life in the sunny state?” he smiled.

“Oh its great! Work never stops, but I am really enjoying life over there. The Podcast has been going well.” You responded. That wasn’t the whole truth, your life was rather busy than chill and enjoyable. You were more or less working two whole jobs. Juggling being in the media and the chaos of the ER weren’t always easy.

“How’s Daniel?” he asked leaving you debating what to say. You and your boyfriend had recently broken up and it wasn’t a pretty one.

“Oh… yeah well I don’t really know” was all you said, pulling a confused look from Martin. “OK well I have someone id like you to meet, you still enjoy motorsport right?” he switched the topic. “Of course I do.” You said, you knew what was coming. He was probably going to call Norris over to the two of you. And that is exactly what he did. “Lando come over here really quickly.”

The Brit, clearly already a couple of drinks in waddled over, quickly excusing himself from the woman he was chatting to. “This is a old school friend of mine, Y/N. I think you two would get along well. She doesn’t know that many people here. Maybe you could put your chatty self to use and introduce her to some people around here.” He said half joking.

The curly haired man looked at you. “Well hi, I’m Lando and apparently I am your tour guide, its nice to meet you.” He smiled. “Well how about we go get you a drink.”

And with that you walked off with him to the bar.

“You strike me as a Aperol Girl.” He thought out loud. You chuckled, he wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t about to go easy today.

“Well you’re not wrong but ill take a Vodka-O, if I want to get through today ill need something strong.

“Alright then, ill take another one of this and a Vodka-O for the Lady please he told the man behind the tiny bar, sliding his empty glass over the counter.

You lost him on your way back towards the middle of the boat. The swimming party had set of and was cruising around in the calm water surrounded by a ton of other small boats with partying people on them. You had found some familiar faces to have small chats with but quickly returned to dancing to the music playing loudly.

At some point you were stopped and checked by some harbor police who wanted to make sure everything was safe.

The alcohol had started to make you feel just the right bit fuzzy.

You grabbed another light drink and walked back to Martin who was jamming out just like the rest. On your way back you noticed a small group of people all standing around one individual. You went closer to investigate whatever was going on.

Getting closer you were greeted with the slightly bloody face of the British man you were introduced to earlier. He was clearly more drunk than you.

“Well what happened here?” You asked. Still grinning he responded. “Weeeelllll, I was dancing and someone smacked their glass in my face and it cut my nose.”

Ok so nothing bad. “Well what do we do now.” Someone you didn’t know said next to you.

“Aright someone get me a first aid kit. That cut won’t need stitches.” You said grabbing a tissue.

“Mind if I have a closer look Lando?” He shook his head no so you stepped up to him and wiped a bit of blood away.

“Well at least its not in your eye.” Someone set down the first aid kit next to you. You quickly went through it checking what you got. Grabbing a little light, some gauze and tweezers you turned back to your patient.

“Aright let me just have a look.” You stepped even closer to him. He was sitting and you were not, so eventough you weren’t as tall he was looking up at you.

You just now noticed the pretty color of his eyes and long lashes that put most girls to shame. Now almost standing between his legs you shine the light at the wound. It looked fairly clean cut, though a small piece of glass was still lodged in the wound.

“There is still something stuck in there, ill have to get it out. Stay still.” You said before you grabbed it with the tweezers in one quick motion. It came out easily, it did also earn you a tiny wince from Lando.

“You look like you know what you are doing.” He said, eyes questioning.

“That’s because I do, I am a nurse.” You responded quickly while searching through the little medical bag for some disinfectant a bandage and some steri strips.

“Aright lets clean the wound quickly. Cover your eyes with you hands please. And this might sting a little bit.” You warned him before spraying to quick sprays of the disinfectant on the wound.

He flinched at the coldness.

In your half drunken state you rewarded him with a little pat on the head, like you would do to pediatric patients at your hospital.

You dried of the wound and leaned down a little further to better place the strips to hold the skin together.

“What a view that is.” Lando said, probably before thinking about it.

The comment made you blush a little. Your shirt was pretty but also warm and not too revealing but given the position you were in his eyes were on the same level as your boobs.

You quickly finished up placing a small bandage.

“Okay you are free to keep partying but watch out for dancing missiles.”

“Well thank you very much for your help miss nurse.” He smiled back.

“How about I say thank you with a dance.” A offer you could simply not decline. He didn’t waste any time pulling you towards a small free space to dance. His steps were a little wonky, but you got there eventually.

In all fairness the man knew how to dance, your bodies were getting closer to eachother with each song and the tention was getting stronger.

Maybe coming here, despite not knowing people, wasnt so bad after all.

#f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris

127 notes · View notes

plutoslvr · 4 months

Text

so i'm rereading trc with my friend and we're currently on bllb and i just read chapter 30 and in it blue's asking malory what gansey used to be like before he moved to henrietta and the gansey that malory describes to blue is so different from the gansey she currently knows and i just cant stop thinking about it.

first off, malory describes gansey as "small" as in not just his height but as in gansey was young and it makes sense because at the time gansey was 15 but it just kind of does something to my heart when i think about young, small gansey trying to figure out why he's still alive.

malory then goes on to say, "He was still trying to prove that he hadn't just hallucinated. He was still quite obsessed with the event [his death] itself." gansey first died when he was 10 and to be obsessing over your death for FIVE years trying to convince others but mostly yourself that you didn't make it up that you actually died and not some part of a childs imagination it must've fucked with him so bad???

then malory tells blue exactly how obsessed gansey was with his death and was to the extent that he was always drawing bees and hornets and "Got screaming nightmares over it- he had to get his own place since I couldn't sleep with it [...] Sometimes these fits would happen in the day, too. We'd just be toddling through some riding path in Leicestershire and next thing I knew he'd be on the ground clawing his face like a mental patient." the gansey that blue currently knows doesnt act like that but this was only two years prior its fucking INSANE and it's here blue starts to think about the facade gansey had learned to throw up since he was a kid.

AND IT GETS WORSE SOMEHOW?? earlier in bllb in chapter 3, gansey talks about how he felt like running and how it had been a long time since he had felt that way. at the time it didn't make sense like wdym by that gansey but then back in chapter 30 malory tells blue how gansey just disappeared one day. left most of his bags and left without a word to anyone not even his family who then called malory to ask for gasneys whereabouts. "He picked himself up and moved on so easily, so quickly. He had done it so many times before England, Jane, and it was old hat to him."

it makes blue rethink every conversation she had with gansey previously, similarly to when adam heard gansey's voice of fear in the cave in chapter one where gansey had the panic attack because its around this book where the gangsey start to figure, as blue puts it, "It was more like the Gansey she'd seen was a partial truth."

it's so very easy to pass off ganseys insecurities and his feelings about how he should comfort other people but they shouldn't do the same for him because he's had it the easiest (his words not mine) because he himself skips over it so fast. like he'll mention something and then act like he's never thought or said it, like its something normal which really isnt and then it slowly makes sense that gansey throughout the series, starts to lose that mask (there's multiple masks but thats a conversation for another time) and the readers and the gangsey get to see what the real gansey is like instead of the bulletproof, untouchable gansey they're used to seeing.

the idea of gansey running is insane in a good way because its nothing like the gansey we know, plus paired with the fact about how young gansey has me clawing at the walls because he's just this kid desperate to prove he wasn't hallucinating, trying to find some purpose to his life before he finds it in henrietta. a kid who was still terrified of his death who relived it, screaming every night who still had panic attacks anywhere and everywhere and would end up clawing at himself because there's hornets everywhere. a kid who doesn't stay in one place too long who learns to put on an easy smile to convince everyone okay and gets so good at it that it works and people think that hes normal and okay when he's anything but.

idk pre canon gansey is something that i need to inject into my bloodstream and analyse in a lab.

#thinking about the different masks gansey has is so crazy like gansey on fire the gansey his family sees the gansey aglionby sees #SORRY LONG POST #FUCKKKK GO TO THERAPY GANSEY #chapter 30 bllb has changed my life in insane ways #i dont think i can ever be the same #richard gansey #trc #the raven cycle #bllb #adam parrish #blue sargent #idk malorys last name sorry

140 notes · View notes

ameliawarnerr · 11 months

Text

POV: MC is drunk at Aurora and she texts Jake.

One-shot (but with two parts. Two-shot? Maybe I'm drunk)

Part-1

Background story: When Jake could finally get free of the dark-web world, it was too late. MC told him that she'd moved on and it was best for both of them. But she confuses Jake again, texting him after she gets wasted. And Jake is confused and not at all happy about her recklessness.

—Jake—

I stare at the screen, eyebrows creased in confusion. My mind is debating if her phone got hacked or it's with the likes of Dan. But then I reread the message, using more of my intellect and pausing the emotions at war.

MC: IM AT AURORAA AND IF U DONT COMW AND GET ME I WILL SLEEP WITJ THE 1ST GUY I SEE!

MC: bringg moneyyy some bitcj stole mine

No, it's definitely her. There's no debate about that. I barely pay any attention to the second message. My mind is still stuck on the first one. It's really unsettling. Despite how I've been upset with her, hardly seen or talked to her the past few weeks, still I want to get there as fast as I can. I cannot bear the image of the otherwise scenario.

My emotions resume the war. I've never understood her entirely before but this is simply beyond my understanding. She went into heavy details explaining to me how she has gotten over me while I was away and how my barging into her life again isn't good for either of us. While I was on the run, making a new identity for myself, cutting ties with anyone who could pull me back into that long stretch of ruin I've been living in, I considered many outcomes. This is one of the more unlikely ones. Or maybe I didn't want to think about it so I didn't consider it fairly.

She was already having a hard time telling me all the reasons I didn't want to hear, so I left. Ever since then, I've stayed at Lilly's place and it's a relief that her friends usually hang out at Cleo’s or Jessica’s. I haven't seen her or talked to her since then but I couldn't help asking Lilly how MC was doing every once in a while. Lilly would always tell me that MC felt like a different person and that I should talk to her. I refused. I simply couldn't bring myself to.

I can't understand if she doesn't want me anymore then why am I the one she's texting when she's wasted at a bar. I guess I’d have to wait until she's sober. I feel a ting of hope and my mind calling me an idiot.

I stop my car in front of Aurora’s front door. Usually, people are entering and exiting at every hour but as the street gets darkened, no one is seen around. Of course, it's 2 am. Why would anyone be here at 2 am when only a month ago a girl was abducted and another was found dead? And obviously, that anyone has to be MC.

Sometimes her recklessness throws me over to the edge.

I rush inside. All lights are shut down, only two of them shine at the counter. One male waiter cleans up the leftovers on the tables while another walks to the kitchen, loosening the knot on his apron. At the counter, MC is seated on one of the high stools, her head resting on the counter while her hands move above her head as she's explaining or complaining about something to…well, to the bar owner. Phil Hawkins.

He's bent over to the counter, his arms set on the counter as he's nodding while grinning. His eyes fly to me as I near them. I notice that her phone is left unlocked on the counter with our chat opened so Phil isn't surprised to see me here. I have only met him once and let's say that didn't change my dislike for him.

“We’ve only met once. And it feels like I've known you for years.” He says, straightening.

I raise my eyebrow at him. “I don't return the sentiment.”

Then as I stride to the counter, beside MC, I understand what he meant.

MC is wasted, talking about me while being totally oblivious of my presence. “And I told him, Phil. I told him. You know what I said?” Her hands are moving vaguely, her voice is uneven, getting high randomly. It's sort of cute. “I said,” Her voice becomes a bit stable as she tries to deepen it. “I will know your identity soon.”

I can't believe she's with a… decent looking guy, somewhat and she's still talking about me. I don't know how to feel about that. But I guess this just reminds me of what we could've had, could've been.

“And you know what he told me then? I remember it as clear as the day as we speak.” She moves her hand hysterically. I bite back a laugh and I look at Phil doing the same.

Then, he says, “What? What did he say to you?”

I would not be a part of this if I didn't want to hear her complaining about me. It's surprisingly funny and adorable. I don't use words like ‘adorable’ to describe anything else. I think I can't anymore– she's set the bar too high.

She clears her throat, raising her head slightly, pointing a finger straight at the wall. “You can't. I am the hacker everyone's after. I'm unbeatable.” She pretends to be me, making her voice rough and deep but fails adorably. I couldn't help it anymore– I broke into a grin.

I decided to intervene. “I certainly didn't say anything of that sort.”

Her pointed finger freezes at my voice. She slowly turns her head towards me as I try not to smile. But as soon as my eyes meet her, there's an effortless smile on my mouth before I can even begin controlling it. She stares at me for a moment. Her hair is a little messy, eyes squinting at me. Then she brings her hands to her mouth. “Oh my god, Phil, I summoned him.”

I take a step forward. “Yes, you did.” I take another step forward, sliding into the stool next to her as I sweep her phone from the counter. I hold it up for her to see. “By texting me. With an awful amount of typos.”

She snatches her phone from my head. “That wasn't me. It might be the owner of the bar– Phil.” She blames as if she doesn't see him standing two feet away from the counter. “But anyways.” She puts her phone on the counter. “You look too hot to be sent back now.” She places a hand on my chest.

Phil coughs. “Alright. That's my cue to leave.”

MC’s gaze follows his figure as he leaves. Then, she leans towards me and whispers, “You know, although it was true but I just said that so he'd leave.”

I lean forward and whisper back, “Excellent plan. Next time, include me as well.”

She nods several times. “For sure.”

“Are you ready to leave?” I ask her.

“Did you bring the money?” She questions.

“Depends. How much do you need?” I place my elbow on the counter, supporting my head as I look at her panicking.

“Well, w-well. It's about 300$.” She scratches her neck. And this time I am the one panicking. Not because of the money, of course, but because—

“You drank 300$ worth of alcohol?”

She blinks. “No. I broke three bottles. Phil told me he'd go easy on me so I have to pay for just two of them.” She shows two fingers, smiling.

I try to look stoic. I look at her finger with the same grim expression and she lowers them awkwardly. I straighten, removing my elbow from the counter. I clear my throat, lowering my head, trying not to show her my smile.

I return my gaze to her. She asks, hopefully, “So do you have 300$?”

I do. But I put my lips into a thin line, shaking my head as she frowns. “I don't have the money. But you know what? I have nothing to worry about since you're one who needs to pay.” I return my elbow on the counter. “All I'm saying is that it's not my problem.”

Her mouth slightly opens and closes. She looks around, fidgeting a little. Then, she looks back at me. “So, you are going to leave?” Her voice is small and I almost give in.

I shrug. “I can leave and come back with the money.” I offer and notice the immediate refusal on her face. “Do you want me to come back with the money?”

She looks down, at her hands. “Don’t do that.”

It takes me a moment to recover from the vulnerability in her voice. I realise as cute as she looks right now, but I still don't want her to be in his state when someone trusted isn't around her, someone who can protect her. That's when I promise to lecture her about this once she's sober. I don't care if we haven't spoken for weeks or where we stand right now.

But right now, I'm calm, knowing she texted me and that I am here with her.

“Why?” I ask. “Weren’t you planning to sleep with the first guy you see here? Once I'm gone, you could do that.” I do my best not to process my own words.

She's still looking at her hands. “No, I only said that so that you'll come and get me. But it's fine if you don't want to pay for me. You can leave—”

The last word stretches as I pull her stool closer to mine. Her legs stumble together between mine. Her head turns upwards as her eyes dart to different parts of my face.

“You think I'm going to leave you here? I am here to get you and I would've come even if you hadn't sent me that threat of a message. Even if you had sent me a made-up word or merely just one letter or just my name, I would've come for you.” I affirm here, speaking very softly but ensuring my words hold the right heaviness for her to believe.

“Even if you didn't know where I was?” She asks.

“Even if I didn't know where you were. I'd find you.” I answer.

“Even if I make you pay a huge debt and ignore you the next day?”

“I’d be hurt if you ignored me. I don't care about the money.”

“Even if I hurt you?”

I hesitate. “Doesn’t matter. I'll get over it.”

“And even if I make terrible jokes?”

“Especially when you make jokes. Terrible or not.”

She eases into a smile. I raise both my hands, fixing her hair with a smile. At last, I rested them on her shoulder. “Let’s go?”

She nods. I nod back. “Just so you know, I’m not saying anything right now because you're too drunk to remember but once you get sober, I'm giving you a lecture about this stupid thing you did.” I can't help but to think what if I didn't see the message, or she couldn't find her phone. I don't particularly like Phil after tonight but what if he wasn't here or she had gone to some other place.

“Good luck to her.” She says. And I laugh out loud, grabbing her phone and shoving it in my pocket. I put the money on the counter and turn to her. “Are you cold?” I ask her as I stand.

“Cold? No. I'm extremely hot and a warm person. You were cold when we first talked.” She points a finger at me, accusingly as she tries to stand.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me. If it makes you feel any better, I don't know who that person was anymore.” I put a hand around her waist as she leans into me. We walk towards the exit.

“Really?” She asks, looking at me.

“Really. He was so reserved and guarded.” I say, matching her accusing tone.

“I know, right? He would ask me about all my findings on the case and wouldn't tell me anything he'd do all day.” She threw her hand, expressing her annoyance.

I grin. “Really? He did that to you? That's so unfair. If I were you, I would never work with him.” We reach the door. I hold her with one hand as I opened the door.

“Well, I wouldn't do that.” She says, unsure.

“Why not?” I ask as we walk towards my car. It's been a long time since I've talked to her. I can't stop myself. I don't want to waste any second being silent. Turns out, I really don't know who I was before I met her.

“Well, he would say ‘good job, MC’. I liked that.” She says, mimicking me.

We reach the door to the passengers' seat. I hold it open for her as she stumbles onto the seat. She wriggles a little until she's comfortable. “Finally.” She eases back into the seat. Then, she looks at me. “I knew texting you was the right thing to do.”

“Good job, MC.”

She stares, processes, then she blushes. I close the door, smiling in an idiotic manner. When I enter the car, she removes her shoes. She sits comfortably putting her leg on the seat, looking at me, expectantly.

“You want something from me?”

“Say that again.”

—To be continued—

Part 2

#jake duskwood #duskwood #writing #duskwood fandom #duskwood fanfic #duskwood fanfiction #jake_duskwood #jake x mc #duskwood jake x mc #dan duskwood #jessy_duskwood #phil duskwood #duskwood phil #mc x jake #jake x reader #jake

201 notes · View notes

lt-natrace · 2 years

Text

just saying

Description: your childhood best friend, bob, is getting really sick of the men you date

Content: being cheated on, mentions of the bird strike, mentions of alcohol, going through a man’s phone, little woman quotes, thinking no one will ever love you like you deserve, little bobby being hurt for like 3 minutes but i fix it, childhood best friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.8k

I wrote this for @jostystyles playlist writing challenge and it was supposed to be posted like 3 weeks ago but life happens sometimes. I chose the song just saying but specifically the lyric "he says he loves you but it's all an act". This also wasn't beta'd so any mistakes are mine and you should just ignore them.

“He just gives me a weird feeling, okay?” Bob said once again, earning an eye roll from you as you walked from the bathroom to your closet.

“Bob,” you started, causing him to look up at you, “I’m not having this conversation again.”

He let out a huff of annoyance and crossed his arms like he used when you’d fight as children. After two decades of being Bob’s best friend, he’s never really changed his habits or learned to let you make your own mistakes. Despite what everyone may think looking at your career paths, a wizzo for the navy and a freelance writer, he was the more reserved and anxious one in the friendship. Even as kids, he would be the one to ask if something was a good idea and as teenagers he would always scold you for making bad choices. It was one of the things that made your friendship work so well.

“Whatever,” he replied flatly, standing up from where he was sitting on your bed, “I have to meet Phoenix for lunch, be safe tonight.”

You gave him a small smile and mumbled out an “I will” as he turned to walk out your front door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. He was your best friend but he drove you insane with how critical he was of the guys you went out with. Bob has always found something wrong or suspicious with each of the guys you’ve dated; Jason made you cry too much, Ethan was too flirty, Zach was too old and so on and so forth. Maybe he ended up being right about every single one of them but Carter was different, seriously. He had a stable job at his Dad’s company, took you to nice dinners and the sex wasn’t bad. Despite all these facts, Bob didn’t like him. All it took was one dinner with him and Bob called you on the way home to tell you everything he thought was wrong. It didn’t matter, Bob wasn’t the boss of you and didn’t get to have a say in who you dated, even if it started fights between the two of you.

—-------

A few hours had passed since Bob left your apartment and the sound of loud banging on the front door pulled you from your research. You closed your laptop screen slightly and walked towards the door, slowly checking the peep hole to see who was waiting on the other side. To your surprise you were met with the sight of Bob, frantically fixing his glasses and trying to catch his breath. He jumped slightly as you opened the front door, letting out a sigh of relief as his eyes met yours.

“Oh thank goodness you haven’t left yet.” He said, pushing past you and turning to face you as he got a few steps into your apartment, “I need to tell you something, it’s really important.”

You’d seen Bob shaken up many times in your life, but this was a whole new level. His hands were shaking, his face was flushed from what you assumed was him running up the multiple flights of stairs and he was pacing back and forth. You watched him for a moment, trying to take in his energy and figure out what could possibly have gotten him so worked up. He stared at you until you motioned him to speak.

“Carter,” he started and you let out a groan of frustration, “No, I’m serious, you need to listen to me. He was at lunch with some girl, she had dark hair and-”

“Jesus Christ,” you cut him off as before verifying the time on your watch, “He was probably getting lunch with a coworker or a business partner.”

“Do you hold hands and pay for business partner’s lunches?” He pushed back as he took a few more steps and began to lean onto the counter. It wasn’t until this moment that you realized how much broader he had gotten on his most recent deployment. You walked to the other side of the island and matched his motion in a sad attempt to stand your ground against him, “He wouldn’t do that to me, he loves me.” You tried, unsure of who you were trying to convince at this point.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? That douchebag has you so wrapped around his fucking finger that you would do anything to defend him, he says he loves you but it’s all an act, he has someone behind your back!” Bob snapped back, his voice suddenly taking up the kitchen. He was never one to raise his voice, especially at a woman and his actions only made you angrier.

“You know what, I know what this is about. You’re jealous,” your voice was laced with venom as you spoke and Bob let out a small laugh, “Yeah, you’re jealous that I’ve found someone I wanna tell everything to and you haven’t. I can’t be that for you forever Bob, it’s time to grow up.”

Bob swore he’d felt his heart break when he had to watch you go to prom with the quarterback or when he couldn’t find Phoenix after their ejection. But this feeling as he watched you walk away from him was worse than heartbreak, this made his stomach turn and he had to fight back the bile rising in his throat. Before you could say anything else, Bob was storming out of your apartment and slamming the door so hard you swore the hinges came off. You and Bob had fought before but never anything like this. You wanted to run after him and tell him you didn’t mean any of it but you couldn’t. Your feet stayed planted in your kitchen, the silence somehow louder than the argument that had just taken place.

As if on cue, your phone began to ring and a picture of Carter from the last date you two had gone on flashed across the screen. For a moment, you debated ignoring it, Bob’s accusations still heavy in the back of your mind. You pushed them back as you answered the call and tried to hide the shake in your voice.

—----

It’s been nearly a month since your fight with Bob. The two of you had spoken a few times but mainly conversations in passing about your days or if the other was going out that weekend. Bob had tried to make amends a few times but you ignored every attempt, he had no right to step into your relationship and throw accusations like that with not even a grainy picture to back it up. Above all, you were upset that he put such an idea into your mind in the first place. Now you felt like you were putting Carter’s every action under a microscope and looking for a flaw in it, even if you genuinely believed he was innocent.

You cursed Bob again as you tried desperately to see if Carter had left his location turned on. To your dismay, he hadn’t. He was supposed to pick you up for dinner over an hour ago. It wasn’t the first time he was late but it was the first time he didn’t have an excuse. He had a tough job and was usually forced to stay late at the office working on whatever he did all day. It wasn’t that you didn’t care to ask, he just assured you it was complicated and difficult to understand. Usually you’d pace for a little and then clean up a bit so it looked nice when he got here, but not this time. You sat on the couch, your heels ditched as you refreshed his location again.

After a few more moments, you heard the spare key clicking the lock of your front door open and sprang to your feet as he opened the door. He was still in his work suit with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of expensive wine in one hand and take out from your favorite restaurant in the other. You couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed at the canceled plans after the effort you had put in getting ready but you could never turn down a night in, especially after what you assumed was a hard day on his part.

“Woman, my god you look good. If I knew this was what was waiting for me I would have told them to cancel the meeting all together.” He said as you made your way over to him and reached up to kiss his cheek, “Let me grab a quick shower and we can eat, feel free to open that bottle up.”

Usually this action would have warmed your heart but you can’t help but hear Bob’s voice repeating over and over in your mind. You’ve never been the jealous type, if someone wanted to go out and ruin what you had they could go ahead and do it, their loss. However, the sight of his phone sitting on the counter, lost under the flowers caused something to change in your mind. It’s an invasion of privacy absolutely, but what if it just unlocked when you moved it?

A text lighting up his screen pulled you from your thoughts. A picture from someone named Brett flashed across the screen. Against what you were raised to believe was right or wrong, you unlocked it. The picture filled the screen and you saw a t-shirt that you had bought him on someone who was definitely not Brett. She had dark brown hair that fell to one side and the hem was pulled up slightly to reveal black lace. You listened for a second to see if the water was still running before scrolling through more messages. Most of them were plans to meet up at some point but one in particular caught your eye. It was from almost a month ago and he was reassuring her that Bob hadn’t noticed they were at the restaurant. Your stomach turned and you held back a dry heave as you grabbed your phone to take pictures of the messages.

You pushed back your tears as you heard the water turn off and quickly put the phone back to where it was, preparing yourself to watch his every move as you poured a heavy glass of wine. It only took him a moment to appear back in the kitchen, his suit traded for a pair of sweats and you made your way to him, holding your arms out for a hug. He put his arms around you and you could feel his gaze behind you on the counter, frantic eyes hoping to see his phone in the same spot.

“Oh honey, some guy named Brett texted you while you were upstairs.” You said as you pulled away.

He saw him tense for a moment before quickly relaxing in an attempt to not raise suspicions. He made his way towards the cupboard to grab a glass and you continued, “he said he found one of your shirts, I think it was the one I got you from that concert a few months ago.”

The glass slipped from his hands and he turned around quickly, “It’s not what you think.”

You stared blankly at him as you attempted to control your breathing and stay calm. He really thought you were stupid and would believe him.

“Not what I think?” you questioned, your voice cracking at the end, “What it looks like is while I’ve put my dreams on hold to be your housewife in training, you’ve been going out and fucking an intern while I wait at home, hoping you’ll be home before dinner gets cold.”

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. You spoke up again before he got a chance to reply, “Get out”

His face twisted in confusion, assuming he misheard you, “What did you say?”

“I’m telling you to get out, I want my spare key on the counter now and I’ll leave your stuff at your house later.” You replied, shocked at how much you were able to hide the shakiness of your voice. In the nearly year of dating, you had never talked back to him and the shock on his face told you that no one ever had.

It didn’t take long for the anger and shock to fade into embarrassment. In fact by the time your feet felt the cool bathroom tile, a few tears had begun to fall. The sight of the makeup and outfit you spent too much time on in an attempt to impress Carter only made them fall harder. They weren’t out of sadness for the situation but instead for how you treated Bob when he tried to warn you. You stared at your phone for a moment, debating if it was too late to call him. You decided to give it a try anyways and the sight of Bob’s contact photo caused your heart to break even further as the fear that you might have ruined everything hit you. It was an old photo from college that you took as he subtly flipped you off and you wondered if the two of you could ever go back to how it was then.

He picked up on the second ring and the sound of his slight drawl caused a small smile to appear on your face, “Hello?”

You sniffled deeply and heard rustling coming through the speaker, “Are you okay?”

Before you could reply, you heard Bob’s front door slamming and his shoes hitting the pavement quickly. The call was disconnected as he got into his truck and you were left in silence with your thoughts again. You debated changing but couldn’t convince your body to get up and face yourself in the mirror.

The sound of your front door being opened a few minutes later caused you to lift your head from the bathroom floor, “Carter, I told you-” you started before seeing who had opened the door, “Bob? You came.”

“You called.” He replied, kneeling down next to you and pushing your hair off of your face. You couldn’t imagine how you must have looked, mascara beginning to smear under your eyes, your hair getting caught on your dampened cheeks. Despite this, Bob’s face didn’t falter, he only used his hands to push your hair off your face and his thumbs to wipe your cheeks.

“You were right,” you started as you sat up slightly, your eyes unable to meet his, “I feel so stupid.”

Bob’s body tensed, his jaw clenching as he wrapped his arms around you. This isn’t the first break up Bob had held you through and at this point, it won’t be the last. Despite all the times your exes had tried to get Bob out of your life, he has always been there to pick up the pieces they left you in.

“I’m scared no one will ever love me,” you whispered so quietly, if it wasn’t for your head against Bob’s neck he probably wouldn’t have heard you.

You felt Bob’s breath hitch at your admission and another wave of embarrassment washed over you. It was a thought that circled your mind but it was usually late into the night after Carter had turned his back to you and he thought you couldn’t hear him texting on his phone. Bob didn’t say anything for a few minutes and the pit in your stomach only grew. Eventually he spoke, his voice nearly as quiet as yours.

“I have loved you ever since I have known you”

His words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. His once calm heartbeat was now pounding against yours as the two of you stayed holding each other on the cold tile. The embarrassment and anger from earlier faded to anxious butterflies as you sat up straight to look into his eyes. Half of you expected to wake up and be laying next to Carter, all of this having been a dream. But there he was, the man you have loved since you were a teenager, admitting he felt the same in his spiderman pajama pants.

Bob cut you off as you opened your mouth, “I’ve waited far too long to tell you and I know this is horrible timing and if you don’t feel the same that’s fine but I have to tell you before I lose you to someone-”

“Shut up,” you mumbled before closing the small gap between the two of you. The kiss was light and slow, unlike any other man you’d ever been with. There was no rush to go to work or get into bed, just this moment and you were determined to make it last.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while, both trying to absorb the events from the night. Eventually Bob helped you up from the ground, wiped the smeared makeup off and helped you into bed. Not the first time he had done so but the first time it was followed by him crawling in next to you and holding you close.

#my writing #bob #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #this is literally the third rewrite of this fic #i hated everything i did #also the ending is rushed so what #top gun maverick

824 notes · View notes

xaefanfictions · 11 months

Text

The Saiki K cast taking care of their crush's Tamagotchi

Characters: Saiki Kusuo, Kaidou Shun, Aren Kuboyasu, Teruhashi Kokomi, Nendou Riki

Author note: I want Aren and Kaidou to take care of my little Kevin so badly (yes, I called mine Kevin because I thought it was funny)

Listening to: Backyard Boy - Claire Rosinkranz

01:43 ━━━━●───── 02:10

⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻

Saiki Kusuo:

↪ Surprisingly, Kusuo accepts to look after your Tamagotchi.

↪ Even more surprising is the fact that he actually enjoys taking care of your virtual pet! Well, at first. He can not stand the constant ringing for too long.

↪ He likes how mindless this is, how he doesn't have to feel overqualified for the job but like a regular teenager being of service to a fellow classmate that he may or may not fancy.

↪ His parents are teasing him to no end. His mother is gushing about her son being able to raise a child, and his dad chimes in, crying because he is not ready to be a grandfather yet. They are just as overdramatic as always.

↪ He gives it back to you in due time and in good shape, secretly hoping that you would go to him for help like this more often.

Kaidou Shun:

↪ Even if it clashes horribly with his dark persona, Shun would do anything you ask him to. And that includes taking care of Mimitchi while you're away.

↪ He starts calling it the Egg of Discord when the others laugh at him for carrying a "girly" toy around. He also says that it holds immense powers and serves as a talisman to keep Dark Reunion away.

↪ He probably needs to ask his mother for help with the controls but would rather die than straight up go to her, so he figures them out by himself.

↪ Kaido takes a liking to your Tamagotchi and secretly babies it like he would an actual human baby. He talks to it in an "UwU" voice and sleeps with it beside his pillow.

↪ When you come back, he proudly gives you the Egg of Discord back with a smirk before asking very shyly for a hug because he missed you a whole lot.

Kuboyasu Aren:

↪ Since he wants to make friends and pass as a regular teenager, Aren gladly accepts to look after your virtual pet (it might also be because he has a big fat crush on you, who knows).

↪ He carries it everywhere to hear it ring and make sure it does not die on him. He wouldn't want to upset you after all!

↪ If anyone makes fun of him for carrying a toy around, he will scar them for life, either mentally or physically. No one will say anything negative about your precious little angel under his watch.

↪ He is not a fan of the constant ringing, but he couldn't even bring himself to throw it against the nearest wall when Kuchipatchi suddenly shit itself in the middle of the night. How sweet <3

↪ He will hand it back to you alive and well for sure! He was careful with it and defended its honor until the very last second.

Teruhashi Kokomi:

↪ Little Miss Kokomi gladly agrees to watch over your little one. It is not like she likes you or anything! It really is just because she has an image to keep up! D-Don't get the wrong idea!

↪ She probably sees it as you wanting to bless your silly toy with her god-like presence because of her bloated ego. She thinks very highly of herself for giving you a hand.

↪ She knows how to care for a Tamagotchi, mainly because she had her mother's as a child. It brings back some nostalgia.

↪ She gives it back to you in good shape, with a smile that would make any boy fall in love. When you take it from her and your hands touch, she explodes into a blush and runs away in shame.

Nendou Riki:

↪ Riki has no idea how to care for a Tamagotchi, but he will still accept because it means a lot to his best pal (and crush, but he's too dumb to realize that he likes you).

↪ Futabatchi is going to see some twisted shit.

↪ Riki asks his mother for help because he has no idea how this thing works. She used to have one as a teen, so she thankfully knows how to keep the virtual pet alive.

↪ Realistically, so many things could go wrong: forgetting about it and how to control it, crushing it by sitting on it, losing it somewhere, letting it die miserably...

↪ If he somehow manages to hand it to you alive, it is probably drowning in shit and sick. Riki will ask you to eat ramen with him as a reward for taking good care of it.

#tdlosk #aren kuboyasu #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki kusuo #x reader #self insert #riki nendou #nendou riki #teruhashi kokomi #shun kaidou #tamagotchi #i fucking hate tagging

195 notes · View notes

emilyssky · 10 months

Text

Chapter 12: The Mess We Made

PAIRING: Lee Know! X fem!reader

GENRE(S): college au, smut, angst

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence and abuse, depression, self harm, eating disorders etc.. mentions of blood, swearing, smoking, smut [ dirty talk, oral; giving and receiving, choking, spanking, praising, degradation, pet names, sometimes Minho is a dick :)

SUMMARY: "Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?"

"What?"

"You said; Always leave people a little better than you found them" he looked at the floor with a small smile for a few seconds and then his eyes found mine. "You really annoyed me when we first met. I envied your optimism and excitement for life. But each time I saw you, I felt a certain thrill. You made me angry, you made me laugh., you made me feel everything. Something about you made me feel a little more alive each time. I know I fucked up and I know I'm an asshole but I'm also brutally in love with you."

One year ago today Chan was running around my apartment, anxiously changing from a variety of dress shirts and pants. I remember how big this event was for him and how nervous he was about going for the first time, since back then he only knew the boys just a couple of months. This year things are different.

To say that I was anxious about going is an understatement and thank fucking god that Emma let me borrow one of her dresses cause I probably wouldn't have gone otherwise. Emma grew up in a quite wealthy family, she attended one of the best private schools in the area, and that involved many fancy parties and proms. So she has a good amount of nice, long dresses.

Unlike Emma, I was invited last minute and not by the person I would like, either way, I'm happy that Jeongin invited me the night we hang out. In Seungmin's family apparently, it's a tradition to host a Christmas Eve dinner party, and was a massive deal for him growing up. His nights before Christmas were filled with fancy dresses and suits, people drinking a shit tone of champagne, and 5-star catering employees walking around with plates of foods too small to be that expensive while classical Christmas music played in the background. During the last few years that he's been living on his own, he decided to carry on his family tradition and this year is no exception. I was kind of excited, I have to admit, it's not every day that I get to wear a fancy-ass dress and act like I'm not a broke college student that can barely keep her shit together. The one thing that I was stressing about was the fact that you had to bring a date. Of course, Seungmin told me that it would be completely okay if I show up alone but honestly, it will feel a little pathetic going solo, especially since he's going to be there. A small part of me wanted him to ask me that night. I waited and waited until the second I got out of his car but he never did. Moments from yesterday have been playing through my mind on repeat, like a film from an old movie, bits and pieces of the way he look at me and how the way his smile made the night sky a little brighter. I didn't expect him to call or text but still, since I woke up every time a notification would pop up a part of me hoped it was him. I'm both scared and curious to see how he's gonna act tonight but I know that if he acts like nothing happen it's gonna hurt just a little more this time.

Chan, Hyunjin, and Felix offered to be my dates yet I said no to all three of them. Everyone knows that we're friends and if I showed up with one of them as my date it would mean that I wasn't able to find someone else. Which is true, finding someone who's willing to come as your date to a nice Christmas Eve party is harder than I thought. When Kai offered to be my date after overhearing me complain to Hyunjin about not having one I was extremely reviled. I like Kai, he's pretty chill and I feel like he's going to be a great date, plus everyone knows him. Emma is going with Seungmin obviously, while Chan, Hyunjin, and Felix are all going solo, probably in hopes of getting laid.

I smoothen the front of my dress as we step into the elevator. The dress Emma gave me is breathtaking. It's a deep, dark shade of red that contrasts with the paleness of my skin perfectly and the satin fabric falls loose around my body yet tight enough in the right places in order to hug my curves perfectly. The straps are thin, not offering much support to my breasts, but thankfully Emma and I have similar chests so the cups of the dress are enough. My whole back is bare, the fabric starting from the top of my ass and hitting the ground while the big cut that's starting from the middle of my thigh, exposed almost my whole leg. I kept my makeup natural, letting the dress and the deep red that painted my lips do all the work. On any other occasion, I would've perfectly straightened my hair, but his compliment from last night tickled the side of my brain, so I let my long, thick brown curls fall all over my shoulders and down my back.

I bounced my right leg up and down, the sound of my heels clicking against the floor of the large elevator filling the small space.

"Can't you just relax?" Emma touched up the sides of her nude, glossy lips with the tip of her finger in the elevator mirror. She is dressed in a white, tight, strapless dress that makes her figure look almost fake. The way her boobs are pushed upwards and the way the fabric of the dress is so tight around her waist make her body look incredible, offering her an hourglass shape.

"Yeah, you've been fidgeting the whole way here." Kai adds, leaning against the wall with hands in his pockets. He's wearing a simple black suit with a dark red tie to match my dress, which I find really thoughtful and cute. His dirty blond hair is messily styled, yet somehow he managed to look like a runway model.

"I've never been in anything like this before." I mumble but in reality, that's not the reason I've been on edge since I woke up. It's not the people that are gonna be there, it's not the fancy setting or the nice clothes. It's him. It's the fact that he's going to be there, and the irritating feeling deep inside me that he's not going to be alone.

Kai pushes himself off the wall just as the elevator doors over. "You look stunning, relax." He leans in my way, his tone just a little lower than before.

I exhale, forming a small smile and we exit the elevator.

"It's going to be so much fun!" Emma squeals, fastening her step down the hall. "I'm so excited!"

We reach their door and Emma rings the doorbell. I feel my palms sweating already, my fingers playing with each other nervously. Kai shoots me a glance before resting his hand on my lower back, his fingers brushing my hip.

The door opens.

Seungmin's eyes go wide, the rest of his face staying completely still. "You're kidding." His gaze travels along her body.

Her smile goes wide, her whole face blushing. "You like it?"

He clears his throat. "There are people here." His tone drops so that only we are able to hear him. "So I can't really express myself properly. "

I hold my laugh. They're so freaking cute.

He opens the door further. "Please, come in."

The apartment is brighter than ever, with beautiful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, crystals reflecting the light perfectly down on the crowd of people talking and slow dancing in the middle of the massive living room. All the furniture has been removed, the couch, the armchairs, the tables, everything, leaving the space empty and open. I can count almost 30 people here, and I can't help but let my eyes stare in awe at all the beautiful dresses and outfits. It's like a ball straight out of a movie, with slow music playing in the background, the food, the drinks, and the people, it's incredible.

"Oh, my god baby..." Emma whispers, wrapping her arm around Seungmin as we walk further into the apartment.

"Don't worry, " He says, sensing how nervous all 3 of us suddenly are. "Everyone here is in my inner circle, just close friends and family. All the guys are already here, as well."

Em's feet freeze. "Family?"

A soft smile overtakes Seungmin's lips. "Come with me."

We watch as he drags her further into the crowd, disappearing.

"Well," Kai turns to me. "Shall we go find the others?"

"I'm gonna need a drink first." I chuckle nervously.

Kai looks around, locking eyes with one of the waiters walking slowly between the people, offering them a glass of champagne, and motions for him politely to come our way.

"Champagne?" The blond waiter offers with a sweet smile.

I curl my fingers around a glass, lifting it off his tray. "Thank you."

He nods politely and walks away.

"I see them," Kai says close to my ear. "Let's go."

He takes my hand in his, leading the way to the end of the living room, near the massive windows, that offered an incredible view of the night city. All of them are standing there in a circle talking amongst themselves. Chan's eyes spot us and I can't help but smile at his expression.

"No way." He shakes his head, not believing his eyes. His comment makes everyone's head snap in our direction.

"Holy shit!" Hyunjin's eyes go wide, the glass of champagne freezing inches away from his mouth.

"What can I say?" Kai lifts his free hand, shrugging with a smug expression. " I might have the hottest date in the whole party."

"Shut up." I roll my eyes, his comment making heat spread all over my face.

Chan inches forward, looking at me from head to toe. "You look unreal." He takes my hand, pulling me away from Kai's grip and spinning me into a circle. "Wow."

I can't help but giggle a little.

"No seriously," Hyunjin moves to stand next to Chan. "You look hot as fuck."

"Thank you guys." I nod at both of them, appreciating the way they always go out of their way to make me feel good about myself. "You don't look but yourselves."

Chan adjusts his black tie, making it a little tighter around his neck before rolling up the sleeves of his perfectly straight, white dress shirt, that I ironed a few hours ago after much begging from his part. With black dress pants, black boots, and his dark, messy curls styled just enough to look good but not preppy, he looks shockingly different. Hyunjin wears a similar outfit to Chan and with a face like his and the way his long, blonde hair falls just above his shoulders, he looks like a prince. I move my gaze behind them, noticing Jisung, Jeongin, and Changbin with Lia, who's apparently the only one with a date. I quickly realize that Minho and Felix are missing.

"Where's Felix and Minho?" I ask them as casually as I can.

I notice the small glance that they exchange before Hyunjin speaks up. "Smoke break." I simply nod and move to greet the rest of them.

"Oh, my gosh you look stunning!" I give her a quick hug.

She tugs her hair behind her ear, shyly. "Thank you, you look amazing too."

"Green?" I lift my eyebrow at Changbin's dark green suit.

"I don't like boring outfits." He smirks. "The room is full of them."

"Shut up, Shrek." Jisung rolls his eyes at his friend, pulling me into a hug.

"Hey," I mumble with a soft smile in the small space between his shoulder and his neck.

"I was waiting for you." He says.

"Too many people?"

He scoffs a laugh. "Too many fancy, important people and not enough alcohol to get me though. There are some people connected to my family here as well and let's say that I would rather not talk to them at all. " He explains.

I remember when Minho explained to me everything about Jisung's past and how he and Seungmin are connected but I mask my face and pretended not to know anything. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'll tell you another time."

"Okay." I touch his shoulder sympathetically.

"Hello, gorgeous." Jeongin pulls me in a small, side hug, his cologne hitting my nose immediately.

"Hi." I smile at his compliment.

"So you found a date?" He nods Kai's way, who's chatting with Chan and Hyunjin.

"More like the date found me." I shrug.

He takes a sip of his champagne. "Bummer."

"Bummer?" I lift my eyebrows. "Why?"

"I would've asked you if I knew you were available." He boldly states, his face natural and his eyes confident.

"What made you think I wasn't available when you told me about the party?" I reply, mirroring his confidence.

His face breaks into a smile, dropping his head a little lower. "Were you?"

His question almost feels challenging and makes me wonder if he knows anything about me and Minho.

I look away, into the crowd. "Jeongin, if you had asked me, I would've said yes." I reply instead.

I feel him taking a step forward. "Well, I'll remember that moving forward."

I don't know what to do or say besides simply smiling at him, his forceful approach taking me by surprise.

He lifts his half-empty glass of champagne towards me and I do the same, before drowning the remains of the bubbly liquid.

"May I steal her for a few minutes?" I feel Kai's hand resting on my back.

Jeongin brings his lips into a tight smile. "Of course, she's your date after all."

I let Kai lead me to the dance floor where a good amount of couples are slow dancing to a beautiful melody coming from the speakers. I place my hand comfortably on his shoulder and wrap the other one around his before we start swinging to the music.

"So," He drags the word. "You're switching to one of his best friends?"

I look at him confused. "What?"

"I thought Minho was the one you were going after." He lets go of my waist, spinning me 2 times before settling back into our previous position.

"I'm not 'going after' anyone." I straighten my back. "And to answer your question; no. Minho wasn't one."

"And Jeongin is?" He presses but not at all in a rude or angry way. His tone is light and conversational.

"Can't a girl just have fun?" I almost whine out loud.

"Oh, trust me you can have fun." He chuckles charmingly. "If having 3 guys running after you is your idea of fun."

Now it's my turn to chuckle. "That's not true."

He clears his throat. "You're right, 4."

I narrow my eyes at his hint of a smile. " I know I'm not your type."

He tightens his grip, pulling a little closer, my body pressing onto his. "No, you're not. But I would never say no to you."

That, I've known for a while. Chan had told me that Kai was interested in me months ago, yet despite him being breathtakingly handsome and a really nice guy, I wasn't ready to move on. I wasn't ready to hook up or mess around cause if I would have gotten involved with him, that's all our relationship would be.

"Ah," He purrs near my ear. "And that's the reason you would say no, to both me and Jeongin." I feel his head nod in the opposite direction, his words making my body freeze on his hands. "Don't look, it will make it too obvious."

I wanna look. I wanna look so bad. The desire to simply see him is so intense that it scares me and makes me feel like an addict wanting desperately to get his hit.

"Is he looking?" I whisper in his ear, even though I know Minho can't possibly hear me, and even though I somehow can feel his eyes burning at my exposed back.

"Yep. Intensely, may I add."

I don't move a muscle. "Is he alone?" I asked the question that's been eating me alive.

"Nope."

I exhale, and I try to stay relaxed, I try to keep dancing, pretending to be unbothered by his presence and honestly, my curiosity would have gotten the best of me if Seungmin's voice didn't echo through the speaker, interrupting the music and dancing.

"First of all, I would like to thank each and every one of you that decided to spend Christmas Eve here." He says into the mic, standing on top of the first few steps of their huge staircase, getting everyone's attention. Kai forces our movements to a halt but still keeps a hand on my waist as we stand, facing Seungmin just like everyone.

"This gathering means so much to me, and I'm really happy that I get to host my own version of my family's tradition along with all the people that matter most to me."

It's eating me up inside, an uncontrollable craving and a tightness in my chest. Just a look, a tiny little glance to satisfy my curiosity.

"To my bandmates, to my friends, to my family, and to my lovely girl." He lifts his glass and the whole room does the same. Emma stands in front of him, smiling like I've never seen her before.

Just a peek.

I turn my head to the right, slightly and carefully, with my glass lifted towards Seungmin but the rest of his speech fades into background noise the minute my eyes lock with his. I swear to god, if Kai wasn't holding my waist, my knees would have bugled.

There he was, standing a few meters away, looking simply breathtaking. And already looking at me. Looking at me with a spark in his eyes, a force, a look so dark that made my throat dry, and I couldn't look away, I couldn't take my eyes off him. He looks, unlike anything I've seen him before. He's dressed in black dress pants that make his thighs look mouthwatering and a simple black dress shirt with the first few buttons open, exposing his wide chest. His hair, for the first time ever, is styled, with the left side slightly pushed back while the right front part of his hair falls perfectly over his eye. He looks so magnetizing that I almost didn't notice the petite blonde clinging to his side, under his arm. Dressed in a black, skintight, long-sleeve dress, with a full face of makeup and full red lips.

He smirks, lifting his glass my way with a challenging nod.

"So please enjoy yourselves tonight, and let's welcome Christmas in the best way possible." I snap my eyes back to Seungmin, finally able to breathe. Everyone starts cheering and clapping and when the music started playing again, everyone went back to either dancing or talking almost themselves while enjoying the incredible food and drinks, but I can't move. Not when my mind is glued to the image of her next to him. Who is she? I've never seen her before.

"Do you want another drink?" Kai asks. "Maybe a stronger one?"

"Yes, please." I breathe, wanting nothing more than to be dragged away from the dance floor, and enjoy a strong gin tonic in the corner, where I can't even see him. I let Kai lead the way, with his hand placed on my lower back. We reach the bar, and spot Felix and Hyunjin talking.

"Y/n!" Felix's eyes widen. "You look incredible." He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting my feet off the ground.

A series of giggles escape me. "Put me down! You're drawing attention."

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hyunjin questions with a lift of his eyebrows and a small knowing smile.

Instead of answering, I lean into the counter closer to the bartender making the drinks. "One gin tonic, please. Strong."

Felix lets out a low whistle. "We'll take that as a no."

"I was enjoying my night just fine." I cross my hands, looking into the distance. They're still on the dance floor, her hands loose around his neck and his holding her waist, like they've never held mine. They move slowly to the music as they chat casually. It's hard to stop my eyes from narrowing at the way his face looks almost relaxed, with a light smile as he speaks.

"Staring at him won't work." Hyunjin jokes, copying my position, arms crossed, back leaning into the table.

Felix lets out a laugh.

"Your drink miss." The bartender pushes the glass my way and I take it in my hands, taking a sip immediately.

"Is something going on that I don't know about?" Felix gives me a look.

"Nope." I shake my head, continuing to sip my drink, not taking my eyes off them.

"Something is definitely going on." Kai copies my position as well.

"You can tell us." Hyunjin adds.

"Nothing's going on." I've drank almost half of my drink already. "And even if there was, I wouldn't tell any of you."

"Excuse me?" Felix says, giving me a glare from head to toe while Hyunjin places a hand over his heart.

"Oh, please!" I roll my eyes at their reactions. "You would run to Chan and give him a full presentation of what I'd said, and you know it."

"That's a lie." Felix points his finger at me. "Your secrets are always safe with us princess."

"Exactly." Hyunjin nods. "Even if it's about fucking one of Chan's best friends"

"It's not like that!" Hyunjin's words make my tone rise, feeling a sudden need to explain myself but they simply laugh. "And besides, Chan's my-" Speaking of the devil Chan makes his way toward us, with his hands casually in his pockets, walking through the crowd like he's 7 feet tall.

"Chan!" I greet him. "Hi."

"Hello, pretty lady." He offers me a broad smile, before turning his attention to Felix and Hyunjin. "I need some help."

"Why? What happened?"

"Seungmin's having some trouble with the cakes." He scratches the back of his neck, a habit of his. "For some reason, they couldn't be delivered here, so someone has to go and get them from the bakery, which closes in approximately," He checks his watch. "19 minutes."

"I'll come. " Felix offers immediately.

"Oh, my god, thanks man." Chan sighs in relief.

"No, problem." He sets his half-empty glass on the table. "We'll finish the conversation later." He sends me a wink.

"What conversation?"

Felix pushes Chan towards the door, chuckling. "Nothing mate, come on let's go."

. . . . . . . . .

I tried sneaking glances as much as I could, whether he was dancing with her, going to get a drink at the bar, or absolutely devouring the mini burgers, and he didn't find my eyes once. Even when he was talking with the rest of the boys and I stood only a few feet away, fully involved in the conversation as well, he never once addressed me. In fact, he didn't even look my way. At all. All night. He smiled and talked, and acted like nothing was going on, like he was fully comfortable with me being almost right next to him. Like nothing had happened. He was simply ignoring me the whole night, so successfully that it made pure rage grow inside me. At the fact that it was so each for him to do so, when I couldn't even breathe properly when he was near, at the way he smiled and talked and danced with her, and most importantly at the way he looked absolutely ravishing. Simply stunning.

My anger was growing and growing each second, each minute, each hour passing and I found myself at the bar more often than I should. The party was beautiful. The decorations, the music, the elegantly dressed people, everything. Kai did dance with me numerous times, and I also danced with Hyunjin and Jisung but at times like these when Kai is somewhere talking or smoking with the boys and Emma is busy playing hostess with Seungmin, I give myself a second to simply do some people watching, and fully take in this beautiful scene unraveling in front of me. Everyone is having a great time, Emma and Seungmin along with Changbin and Lia are currently on the dance floor, and the rest of the boys are chatting and laughing. Every single person in here, has a smile on their face, enjoying the moment, something I can't bring myself to do. Hell, even Minho has a hint of a smile on his face.

I drown my 4th glass of gin and tonic.

"Easy there tiger." Jisung takes the now-empty glass from my hand. "Someone's clearly not having fun."

"I am having fun." I scoff. "In fact, I'm having a great time, this party is amazing." I wave my hand around.

"Yes, it is." He smiles, focusing his eyes on me. "Are you okay, kid?"

It's weird how Jisung can always realize when something's wrong, but then again I don't think that I'm making a good job of hiding it.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask back.

"Sure."

"Do you smoke?"

He blinks at my straightforward question. "Occasionally, yes. Why?"

"Can I have one?"

He blinks again. "Um," Another blink. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Please." I press in a high-pitched tone when he appears to be looking around, probably for Hyunjin.

He sighs but reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

"For an occasional smoker, you sure are prepared." I tease.

He rolls his eyes at me with a smile. "Do you want it or not?" He holds a cigarette between his fingers.

My eyes light up and I immediately take it. "Yes please."

"I'd suggest you go somewhere else to smoke it." He lets his eyes trail around the room once again as if we're dealing right in front of 30 people, placing a lighter in my hands as well.

"Yes, I know." I hide the cigarette inside my palm. "Thanks, Jisung."

He gives me a short nod with a hint of hesitation in his big brown eyes and lets me walk away from him. My legs drag me up the stairs, making a turn to the only room I've ever been in this house. I open the big, glass door and exit the room, walking into the massive balcony. This time I don't climb the stairs to the roof, I walk further into the balcony until I reach the railing. It's a lovely night, perfect for Christmas Eve, the stars and moon lighting up the night sky and blending perfectly with the chilly atmosphere. I shiver, my bare shoulders moving inwards mechanically in an attempt to protect my body from the cold yet I don't wrap my arms around it, instead, I welcome the cold and let it lift the little hairs on my arms and spread goosebumps across my skin. Something about the cold air hitting me, this shivering feeling tingling my back, calms me down. It's like reality showering you in the best way possible, grounding you. I take the cigarette between my teeth, the red of my lips staining the edge and I circle my hand around it, lighting it up. The first inhale hits me hard, reminding me just how much I've missed it; the feeling of the sudden numbness in your brain unraveling and spreading everywhere in your body, and how suddenly with each inhale you feel more and more separated from the world around you. I let the moment sink in in my intoxicated mind, appreciating where I am right now and saving it. I know that my moment is gone when I hear the noise, the footsteps, and the door slamming, and even though I stay still, facing the night sky, hands resting on the railing, it doesn't take longer than 5 seconds to realize that it's him. Maybe it was his sweet vanilla scent mixed with a hint of cigarettes, that filled the air immediately or the way his light, slightly audible breathing sounded somewhat familiar, but I knew.

"Hello, Angel."

"Minho," I simply acknowledge him.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo on your back." He spoke in a low, controlled tone.

The corners of my mouth lift. "I have 5." I stay facing forward, pausing to take another drag of the cigarette and taking my time to exhale the smoke. "And there are many things you don't know about me."

"Like?" He starts walking my way, and I know that he has his hands in his pockets and a small smile is dancing on those beautiful lips, without having to look.

"You'll find out if you stop ignoring me."

My comment forced a chuckle out of him and suddenly he appears to my right with his back resting on the railing, facing me. When I move my eyes from the night sky to look at him, regret showers me from head to toe. I was right about the small smile but definitely not prepared for the way he looks at me through his long lashes. Having not made eye contact for most of the night, being here, and being looked at by him feels like the highlight of my night. And I hate it, almost as much as I hate the way my heart starts beating just a little bit faster.

His fingers come up, snatching the cigarette from between my own in such a swift movement, bringing it to his mouth. "Smoking doesn't look good on you, angel."

I admire how he moves the cigarette to his other hand, the one away from me, taking a drag of it midway and exhaling, and it's honestly crazy how attractive it is to me. "I don't care." I reply, trying to appear unbothered.

"Are you enjoying the dance?" He asks and if I didn't know any better, I would think that he actually cared but I recognize the irony in his voice.

"Of course, I am," I play along. "It's wonderful."

He drops his eyes to the floor. "I think I'm getting pretty good at realizing when you're lying."

My body stiffens. "I'm not lying." The party is wonderful...

"Well, I think you are." His words mix with the smoke as he exhales.

"And what makes you think that?" I further ask, holding eye contact for just a few seconds.

He shrugs. "Maybe it was the quite visible stiffness of your body the whole time, the constant frown that was plastered on those red lips, or the way too much drinking out of discomfort and nervousness. But I think it was probably the fact that you danced only up to 30% of your abilities thanks to that lame excuse of a partner you choose to drag along with you as a date." A small smile threatens to spread on his face, but he contains it.

"None of what you've just said is true," I try to brush him off, forcing myself to act like his words didn't affect me or how it scared me that everything he just said is in fact true. It makes me feel like I can't possibly hide from him, as if he can read me like an open book without even trying. "And don't talk shit about Kai, he's a great date and someone I actually know and have fun with."

His smile widened into a smirk. "Anna and I know each other for quite some time."

I stare into the sky again. "I didn't ask and I don't care."

"You didn't have to, I can see how it's been eating you up inside since you laid eyes on us." The confidence that laces his teasing tone makes me tense up and I feel his gaze on me as he continues.

Us...

"I saw the way you roamed your eyes from her head to her toes every chance you got, probably analyzing everything about her." He blows the last bit of the smoke before pressing the edge of the remaining cigarette on the railing and throwing it away. "It was easy to guess what was going through your mind, " He pushes himself off the railing and moves slowly, almost like a cat, circling around me and leaning closer and closer. "Questions, questions, so many questions, and doubts. I could almost feel you comparing every little thing about her to you." He stops behind me, his chest nearly touching my back yet still knocking the air out of my chest. I swallow hard, feeling his head moving to the side of my face, just above my shoulder.

"And honestly, I don't know what felt more entertaining to me; the fact that I could smell the jealousy out of you or the fact that you actually thought that she stands a chance next to you." He whispers, lips brushing against the cell of my ear and I'm on fire, from head to toe. He's suddenly close, so close, his scent hitting my nose, intoxicating my brain even more and memories of his hands on me and his body pressing against mine begin to dance around my head.

"Minho.." I try my best to sound stable, but my words come out breathy.

He pushes his face further into the curve of my neck, his lips traveling all around, brushing my skin. "What do you want angel?"

Such a dangerous question to ask when I feel like he has my body wrap around his finger without even touching it. "S-stop it. You can't do that."

His low chuckle against my skin sends a wave of vibrations all the way down to my core. "Can't?"

"Yes." I somehow find the strength to push my body away from his and turn to face him, resting my back against the railing for much-needed support. "You've been ignoring me the whole night, and now you wanna come and play games with me? That's not how it works." I cross my arms.

His face is now stripped of any playfulness, his features turning hard as he looks down at me. A moment of silence passes until he decides to speak. "I wasn't ignoring you."

I chuckle lightly. " Yes, you were. Completely."

He bites his bottom lip softly, eyes moving up and down my body fast. "I wasn't ignoring you, " He repeats. "I was trying to contain myself. There's a difference."

I feel my breath shaking at his words, and all I can do is stare at him, no words coming out.

He looks up, inhaling, tongue running over his bottom teeth as he steps forward. "You look fucking exquisite." He drawls. His hands grip the railing tight, trapping me. "My breath was yours the minute I laid eyes on you."

I can only hear my heart drumming against my chest, his words making me freeze. "I don't-"

A noise escapes him, almost like a growl. His nose bumps against mine gently, and his cigarette breath fills the small space between us. "You think I was enjoying watching him have his hands all over you?"

"It sure looked like it. " I whisper, looking up at him.

His eyes are dark, moving everywhere around my face before settling on my lips. "That was the point."

"Why is everything a game to you?" I can't help but whine.

He doesn't answer instead he brushes his lips against mine, taking my words and breath, and flashes me a look. His eyes warning me and asking me at the same time, and in a split second his lips are on mine. His mouth moved with so much power, so much force that it made my grip on the railing tighten as my knees almost gave up. It didn't take long before my mind caught up, making my own lips move against his with the same hunger and he hummed in response, satisfied. His cold hands cupped my jaw as his tongue began brushing aggressively against mine, demanding complete access which I was more than happy to provide. Our mouths danced together in a way that felt almost like a war, biting and sucking, nibbling and pulling, his hand traveled to my hair, grabbing a handful of my dark curls and forcing my head to tilt upwards, breaking the kiss with a choked moan. His mouth traveled to my jaw and down to my neck, leaving wet spots behind and marking my skin softly.

"You have no idea how hard it was for me to contain myself all night," He breaths out. "when all I wanted to do was bend you over and admire how hot the back of that dress would look as I fuck you from behind. "

A sound so desperate and needy ripped through my throat at his words, my body in shock and melting in his hands as he continues to devour my neck and chest, his mouth going everywhere.

"Minho.." I find the strength to whisper.

"Yeah, I know.." He groans against my skin.

"Someone could see us." I add.

He drags his lips from my neck back to my jaw, until his mouth is ghosting over mine again "I know," His eyes are hungry and wild. "don't care though."

I laugh under my breath. "We both know that's a lie."

"A lie?"

"Minho, you don't wanna be seen with me." I shake my head lightly. "Every time we're around people you act like a completely different person."

"It's not that angel." He exhales against my lips, brushing his nose against mine. His hands move slowly, from my jaw down my chest, his rough fingers toy with the thin straps of my dress before traveling down to my exposed cleavage. His eyes meet mine as he drags his fingers in between my breasts, making my nipples harden, the shape of them visible through the thin satin material. His mouth twists when he notices, his lips coming together hard. I feel my breath tremble as his hand passes from my stomach and doesn't stop. I switch my gaze from his hand to his eyes nervously while he stays focused on his movement, with eyebrows frowned. When his fingers brush over my core, I inhale sharply, holding my breath.

"God, it would be so satisfying to see just how wet you are for me right now." He lets out a low groan, smiling.

"I'm not." I swallow, tightening my jaw, looking at him dead in the eye.

His smile turns into a smirk, dark and wicked, that shakes me to my core and awakes a hunger deep inside me, making me wetter than I already was. "Let's check then shall we?"

Before I have any time to protest or do anything, he knocks my left foot with his, making my legs open enough for his hand to creep in from the opening of the dress that exposed my leg from my hip bone all the way down to my ankle.

"Minho!" My voice comes out more like a whine, the end of his name dying in my throat as his fingers waste no time, pulling my underwear to the side.

"Ah, shit." He hums in approval closing his eyes when his finger opens my folds, gently rubbing my clit and letting my wetness soak it. His smile grows as his teeth capture his bottom lip between them. "You're dripping baby."

I place my hands on his chest. "Please, s-stop."

"I don't think you want me to stop. Not when I can so easily do," His middle finger slides inside me, effortlessly. "This."

A moan leaves my lips, my head falling back at the unexpected pleasure.

His finger starts moving, fast and hard, making wet, sinful sounds mixed with my embarrassing whimpering fill the air.

"That's it, baby." He drags the words, in a low tone, attaching his lips once again against my jaw.

"Oh my god," I brokenly say, fisting his shirt. He slides another finger in with absolutely no warning, keeping the same brutally pleasurable pace and I feel my stomach tightening, the pleasure building and building. Everything has faded again, an effect that only he has on me, suddenly it's just me and him and I find myself not caring about where we are or who can see us as I let myself fall apart on his fingers.

His lips find mine, swallowing my gasps, in a sloppy kiss. "You feel so good around my fingers angel." His free hand comes up to cup my jaw, forcing my eyes to him, foreheads touching. "You think you can come for me? Huh?"

The way he speaks, so cockily and confidently, is challenging me and I hate how much the way he teases and handles my body, pushes me closer to the edge. This back-and-forth thing between us, this feeling, this rush of adrenaline that consumes me every time he's around is getting addictive and I want more and more. I want him more and more.

His fingers curled inside me, effortlessly finding that spot, and hitting it repeatedly. "S-shit."

"Found it." He says proudly in my ear, gently biting my earlobe, and if I wasn't currently on the verge of having an orgasm at a balcony, during Seunming's Christmas Eve party, I would have slapped that smirk off his face.

The knot in my stomach tightens, my legs begin to shake, and I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, heat rising to my face. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing circles over it and the second he applies just the tiniest amount of pressure, I feel the pleasure creeping in.

"Minho, I'm g-gonna.." My orgasm hits me like a wave, my whole body going numb, gasps and moans of his name fall from my lips.

"There we go baby," He groans, connecting his forehead to mine again. "Ride it out." All of his digits move perfectly together, not slowing down even a tiny bit, as I make a mess of them. My eyes stay shut, still unable to breathe while the remains of my high still linger, the bliss still tingling my insides.

When he feels me relax, he pulls his fingers out, letting some of my release wet my inner thighs. I open my eyes slowly meeting his. He's grinning like a satisfied child, that got what he wanted.

"Well," He lifts an eyebrow, bringing his two fingers to his mouth and wrapping his full, pink lips around them, sucking them clean while holding eye contact. "That was lovely."

I blink and I swallow hard, and then blink again. Staring up at him, not really knowing what to say, my mind completely blank. "I- uhm.." I stutter, and it could be my head trying to wrap itself around what just happened or how the moonlight falls on his face perfectly, lighting up his big, brown eyes, but I struggle to form a sentence. His hair, a little messed up, probably from my hands, and his whole face, glowing, making me wish I could take a photo of him in this moment.

"I-I-uhm," He mocks, eyes moving all over my face. "Not knowing what to say; that's the 'Minho effect'. " He shrugs.

His words snap me out of my haze. "God, you're so arrogant." I push at his chest, making him stubble just a step, his shoulders shaking with laughter. I cross my arms, shaking my head at the boy in front of me. It's the second time, I've heard him laugh.

He bounces back to his previous spot, lowering his head a bit to catch my gaze, his eyes dark and beautiful. "Are you obsessed with me yet or should I try harder?"

I roll my eyes, fighting back a small smile, this playful and flirty side of his might be my favorite. It's making me wish we could stay like this forever. So close to each other, so open and relaxed. But sadly the nature of our relationship is nothing like that.

I open my mouth to answer but the shout of my name ripping through the air, makes me freeze.

Hyunjin.

He steps into the balcony, chest rising and falling so hard that he's visibly struggling to breathe. His face is covered with a thin layer of sweat and his hair is messily falling over his face as if he was repeatedly running his hands over them.

"Hyunjin?" My head snaps to him, but it's the look on his face, the panic in his eyes that makes my blood run cold, and my feet to take a step forward.

"We have a problem." He breaths out, hard.

"What is it?" Minhos takes a step forward as well, his body and face shifting completely, hardening, alarmed.

"It's Chan and Felix."

140 notes · View notes

bronx-bomber87 · 5 months

Text

Happy Weekend everyone :) Exciting we got some BTS I can't wait for the first promo for the premiere. When we get our first crumb and we can all lose our collective minds. Ha Till then we are hitting another fav episode of mine. The one where really it’s Tim and Lucy on a date. Chris and Ashley just happen to be there. So many reasons I love this episode from the date to the work stuff it's all very good. Off we go.

4x12 The Knock

Our couple actually gets the cold open. They’re headed to the beach for a call. Lucy mentions how it sucks to be on the beach but not be able to enjoy it. That she can’t dive into the water. Tim is more than happy to stay away from the water and the beach. Forgetting he’s dating a lifeguard….(Sure he would love the ocean more if a wet Lucy Chen was in it) Lucy giving him crap saying how on brand this is for him. To hate one of natures greatest gifts lmao God I'll always love how she speaks her mind around him. Especially in S4. It's glorious.

Tim corrects her and says it’s the ocean not the beach he hates. Lucy can’t help but get into psychology mode. Telling him a fear of the ocean is related to not being in complete control of his environment. I mean that’s pretty damn spot on for Tim. We know what a control freak this man is over everything. (I can relate. heh) Tells him good luck dating a lifeguard LOL So much sass so early in their shift. Tim’s reactions through out this portion above are too funny.

Throwing his hands up and shaking his head at her analysis of him. Not fighting it BTW. Progress ha He used to be so anti-psych before her. Lucy can’t help but psychoanalyze him. Not only for the water but for Ashley let’s be honest. This flirty sass is only the beginning with this episode. Never be over how very vocal Lucy is about Ashley. Literally giving Tim breadcrumbs all over the place she’s not right for him. Also that she is not a fan. None of us are Lucy...

They make their way to Ashley. Saying she wasn’t expecting them to send their best. And hottest. (I mean she's not wrong. They both fine af.) Lucy is not about this flirt fest. So very transparent my friend haha Awkwardly does a *ahem* Trying to get Ashley to direct them to why she called. Asking where is the thing she called about? Tim can’t let it go when they’re walking towards it.

‘Did you hear her say the hottest?’ Wants so badly for Lucy to recognize he’s attractive. Trust me babe she knows. Painfully aware of it really. Something she has to consistently push down in your flirty moments. I bet you that look she gives in 5x12 was everything for him. When she was shamelessly checking him out. The validation he had been chasing forever. Part of him that just needs to know she finds him attractive. Oh Timothy. She does that’s part of the problem for her especially this season haha They’re walked up to a severed hand. Eww.

Tim’s point about the ocean being proven in this moment. Ashley is just standing there while they bicker like a married couple haha Which is basically this entire episode honestly. Really this season but there is a heavy emphasis on it in this one. Tim asking her if she wants to go in now? Such a shit. I love him so much. Lucy being the exasperated one this time lmao. Look at her reaction above. Annoyed wife status. Idk how Ashley could be around them and not wonder if Tim was in love with Lucy? SMH. Third wheel in her own relationship when Lucy is around. Another theme of this episode.

Tim comes up after Lucy is done talking to Chris. They were theorizing what the story behind the hand could be. He takes off and Tim immediately notices ‘the look’ and he comments on it. Asking her what’s that look? Lucy is defensive and says 'Nothing.... What?' It’s here we see jealous Tim emerge. Welcome sir please stay awhile. Noting she wanted to strangle Chris last week. Now she’s sweet on him?

Lucy can’t help but give him grief for his old school verbiage. Haha He’s the old dude from UP time and time again. I mean this scene really is just Tim speak for jealous. He doesn't like Chris. Never has never will. Lucy deflects said jealously into making fun of him. Tim not even trying to hide how he feels about this situation. Liked it better where she wanted to strangle Chris. He knows that look and isn’t exactly excited about it.

Ashley comes up saying she’s all done with her paperwork. Asking if he has any plans tonight? Tim tells her no. She goes on to tell him her friend won 4 raffle tickets to a fancy dinner thing. Tim being skeptical asks what that entails? She tells him it’s called OSIA. Lucy’s interest is now piqued. Ashley continues on to say it’s a beach pop up. 12 fusion meals and wine pairings.

You can see Tim doesn’t look excited. He tells her he’ll have to think about it. Ashley asks him what there to think about? Lucy jumps right in cause well it’s Lucy. Saying the control freak in him doesn’t like to try new things. (Well he does just not with you Ashley...) You're not the one he's going to jump off cliffs for. Cause well. You know. The vapid quality you bring to this whole thing… Seriously how is Ashley not constantly threatened by Lucy? Tim gets defensive and says he’s not a control freak. Ok honey…..Lucy is enjoying this so very much. Look at her above. Challenging him to proof he is not.

Tim changes his tune and says he would be happy to go to her fancy dinner thing. Funny Tim was a hard no till Lucy called him out. If I was Ashley I would be thinking it was weird Tim only said yes to spite Lucy but ok LOL Honestly the control freak in him to control this moment by saying yes haha My god Timothy. To show Lucy he's not one if he goes. Not the reason to go to a fancy place with your GF. To show up your ‘platonic aide.' but you do you Tim.

They return to the station and Tim gets a phone call. It’s Ashley saying her friend bailed on dinner. She starts suggesting another friend and Tim looks at Lucy. Knowing if he has to do this dinner thing he at least wants her there. Not some random other couple if he can help it. Unconsciously reaching for his safe space in this instance. I.e. Lucy. So he casually says Lucy been pining after that place all day. Lucy TOUCHES his forearm during her excitement.

If a gif could sum up their dynamic/personality in one moment it would be this one one. Heh Her excitement and his need for her to chill on said excitement. Sunshine x Grumpy at its finest. Tim then makes the biggest mistake ever. (He just doesn’t realize it yet…) Spots Chris and tells him Lucy needs a date to a fancy dinner. Oh my love you’re going to live to regret this one. Saw a funny post about this moment. 'Congratulations you just played yourself.' HA It's true though... Does his fake Chris smile to get him to come with.

So desperate to have her there with him he invites Chris. Someone he can't stand. You're a hot mess Timothy. I love you. The clown agrees to said dinner while Lucy stands there and watches this all unfold. She is stunned into silence mostly lol Tim gets off the phone and says’What? Don't be such a control freak.’ The shade Tim the absolute shade. Who is this man? Also let’s note they’re doing a work flirt inside this ‘double date’ before it even begins. Only these two…

So begins the date where a third and fourth wheel called Chris and Ashley just happen to be there for the ride. Really this entire portion is just one giant display of their bond. I love it so much. We get to see their exquisite connection front and center. That seamless flow of theirs and how they lean on one another naturally. Tim starts out real strong saying how he doesn’t understand why a restaurant would be on a beach? Oh my grumpy old man. Lucy isn't phased by this but Ashley is. Their first course arrives and Tim looks so very confused as their server explains it.

This is their first married moment of the night. Tim asking if any of that was English? Lucy steps in. Says she can translate for him. All he needs to know is it’s made of mushroom. Which she knows isn’t his favorite. She knows his various likes and dislikes. Because of course she does. This is her work husband after all. Lucy knows all the things. It’s the way she naturally leans over and he tells her to take it. He leans back and lets her snatch it up. I have a feeling this isn’t the first time this has happened during a meal. They’ve just never had an audience before. This is touching on our 'you know me so well. too well.' OTP moment.

I love him just letting her eat off his plate. Like it ain’t no thang... Just a normal day. Nothing to see here people. Totally normal platonic partners right here. It’s Ashley’s face while Lucy does this that makes me laugh. She is picking up on a vibe so hard. It’s written all over her face. Then there is clueless Chris to her left. Not noticing the dynamic between them. He is a wet match in a damp cave folks. Ashley however is picking up on it right away. You’d have to be blind not to or be Chris at this point LMAO Ashley feeling every bit the third wheel. Says she didn’t know he didn’t like mushrooms? Tim tells her it’s ok. (it's ok cause his wife knows…)

Chris brings up he’s not much of an adventurous eater. But did have curry goat one time in Jamaica. This prompts Tim to come up with a story about Lucy. Because he’s on a date with her and not Ashley right? Tim starting off with ‘Was his name Gerald?’ It’s the way he’s looking right at her when he says this. It’s so cute. They're like a couple on their honeymoon swapping stories with a couple they just met. Lucy trying to stop her enthusiastic husband from embarrassing them by sharing too much.

Tim could not be more adorable with how excited he is to tell this story. Look how animated he is above. Only Lucy brings this side out of him. Let's also note how how his eyes basically never leave her face. Lucy’s sheepish ‘god shut up don’t....’ Trying to cut Tim off from telling this story. Married moment number two coming right up. It's the way she's reacting that is so precious.

A wife trying to stop her husband from embarrassing her with a story. This scene is just so damn endearing. It's a testament to the seamless flow that is them. That bond no one seems to really understand but them. The inside jokes and how they’re finishing each other sentences. That lovely ebb and flow they have. If you didn’t know the context of this scene you’d think they were the ones in a relationship.

They're behaving in a manner that strongly resembles a married couple. The fact that it's in front of their dates tickles me pink. They’re basically screaming their feelings in this moment through this story. The looks they give each other while the other is talking. *heart clutch* The smiles and looks of love. Chris and Ashley's reactions are what make the situation so amusing. Like two outsiders looking into a world they don’t understand. At all. They don't speak the language and it shows.

They get so lost in each other and in this story. They don’t pick up on the vibes across the table. Ashley being confused and threatened. Chris being well clueless and pretending he knows what’s going on. How either of could watch this chemistry filled display and not walk away from the table is beyond me. Their dates are on a date with each other right now. They just don’t realize it.

What's being depicted here is their profound bond, their history, the looks, the touches and laughter. They barely look at their dates towards the end of the story. If you needed a 'Tell me your ship is married without telling me they are?' This is that in spades. Look at the way they are smiling, laughing and looking at each other toward the end of this story. He is sporting his Lucy smile in the gifs above.

Never smiles for anyone the way he does for her. His heart reaching his eyes and lips just for his girl. Tim is so damn pleased with himself for teasing her. Sheer joy out of telling an embarrassing story involving her. Straight flirting right in front of their dates. Tim is so in love with her in this moment. I mean the man took a small comment from Chris and turned it into as story about Lucy. One from a long time ago no less. Nothing soulmate like at all about this behavior.

Look at these two in these final gifs. All heart eyes, smiles, and giggling. That Tim smile loud and proud. They're like two idiots in love who can’t help but project that love to everyone around them. Haven't torn their eyes from one another. They’ve completely forgotten the others at the table. Faded into their own flirty world. I know some people said they felt second-hand embarrassment. I didn’t I LOVED seeing this. I love her laughter feeding off his amusement asking 'Why?' Him replying 'It's funny.' laughing with her. It was only funny to them LOL I’m dying it’s so good.

Ashley is not pleased. Can’t say I blame her. Lucy is bringing out a side that is foreign to her. What happens when you're blah and bring nothing to a relationship. You get second hand Tim. To me this episode is as just one step closer to showing they’re supposed to be together. Shows the depth of their bond at this point. That magnetic draw they have to one another even with others around. Even when those people are the ones they’re supposedly on a date with. They're oozing cute newlywed vibes here and I was so happy to watch it.

We return to them now having a spirited debate about experimenting on the dead. It's stemming from the case they're working on. A mad man has been taking severed limbs trying to reanimate them. Married moments 3 and 4 are arriving at the station. It’s the fact that their bodies are now pointed at each other. Effectively shutting out the others at the table. Ashley inserts herself back into the convo finally getting them to break of from one another. (Seriously Ashley all the signs were there. Should cut this off after this dinner alone.)

She asks Tim if he hasn’t volunteered to be an organ donor then? Lucy answers for him cause wifey knows the answer. Telling Ashley all about it. How he wants his ashes spread over Dodger field LOL I love her knowing this detail. It’s one thing to know someone’s dislikes in food. It’s another to know info like this. Lucy knows him like the back of her hand. He didn’t even care she answered for him. Tim could not be cuter saying his ashes would mess up the PH of the grass. LMFAO. I love this man sfm everyone I really do. Lucy replying like only a wife would.

Making fun of him for calling in the first place. I love these two so much. Also adore how relaxed and comfortable Tim is. His body still pointed towards Lucy. You know she is the reason he’s so relaxed. Why he is having fun. It's because his person is there. Bringing out the best in him. Making jabs and bantering back and forth with him. Chris awkwardly adds in ‘I like the dodgers…’ I’m rolling. No one cares little dude. Tim going back to being a little reserved with his ‘Yeah..’ reply. Tim makes one last jab at the food. How ridiculous it is. Ashley gets up from the table and Tim tries to apologize but she’s out out there.

The next day they’re sent to the county morgue. The guy who’s been working on dead people has been linked to here. They figured out he was using the morgue for his experiments. Because it’s for people who aren’t identified and get buried by the state. Pretty sad but right up this deranged guy's ally. Once they arrive they see blood on the floor. Follow it to where they find him hold up in a room. Trying to get more body parts.

This next section is a lesson in how not to have any personal space by Tim and Lucy. Also how far they’ve come professionally with this moment. Chester the crazy person has a room of people hostage. Tim takes off his body cam and slides it into the room. Opens his phone and makes his way back to Lucy.

Tim asks her what their options are? I LOVE Tim trusting Lucy’s instincts. Asking for them instead of testing them. This scene is so intimate. From their soft voices to way he guides her into place. Places his hand on her lower back and she trust him to do so. Then takes a glance at his phone. Talking out her options with him. Adore how they're so in sync in this scene. How they move together. Gets me right in the feels.

I saw a post (link inside that) awhile ago about how Eric and Melissa took them standing together to another level. How they took the initiative to be like 'Hmm the fans would love this.' So they made it this intimate moment we all know and love. I adore them doing this kind of stuff. Knowing it’ll drive the fans crazy in the best way. Gah the way he’s intensely looking at her as she processes her thoughts. Like a proud husband waiting for her to make her call. This moment shows they have the same amount of chemistry inside their job as they do outside of it. Nothing changes. This scene was *fans self*

Tim waiting for her to make her decision. Knowing she going to make the right one. His trust in her implicit at this point. The silent communication going on here is out of this world. Also look at this man’s jawline. Could cut glass on that thing. Peppered with stubble too. Yum Tum. Thought we made it through a review without me ogling Tim didn’t you? You're welcome. Lucy comes up with a bad ass plan where no one gets hurt. Tim blinding him with his flashlight. Chester erratically shoots at it. Lucy takes him out with her taser with him distracted. They arrest Chester and save the hostages. BAMF'S

Lucy is leaving the station when the clown catches her. Chris telling her he wasn’t really feeling last night. Yeah cause she was on a date with Tim not you… (You'll never compare but sure go ahead putz.) Lucy apologizing to him. Saying her and Tim spend so much time together. They just have a shorthand. It's so much more than that. If by shorthand you mean deep emotional connection and bond. An intimacy that can be felt just by the way you look at each other and silently communicate.

Where you finish each other sentences, make each other laugh, have inside jokes no one else gets, throw heart eyes at one another and clearly are so very in love. Love each other warts and all. Then sure let’s call all that a 'shorthand' Lucy. Whatever helps you sleep at night LOL She ends up setting up a do-over with Chris. Bleh. But she can’t have Tim right now so he’s it atm. Just a distraction for her nothing more. Like a snack you don't super love but it's there. So you pick at it not expecting much enjoyment out of it other than filling yourself up.

Tim has Ashley meet him at the station to apologize. She points out how he spent the entire time talking to Lucy. Well I mean he did…. Tim telling her his job is unpredictable. His entire career has been that way with his jobs. That at the end of the day likes his creature comforts. I hate that Ashley was always trying to change Tim. There’s compromise and there’s someone who doesn’t fit with you. Like trying to shove square peg into a round hole with them.

Lucy would be so happy to do those things with him. Also she’s just not worth him going out of his comfort zone for. Lucy is the only one to get him to do that. As we see in S5 the things he's willing to do for Lucy vs what HAS to do for Ashley. Lucy loves Tim for everything that is him grumpus and all. Where as Ashley tries to alter Tim and things she doesn't. Get him to fit what she wants out of a man. Just not the right one for him to do any of those things. It's telling af how Tim gets defensive when she calls Lucy his partner.

The denial is so real Timothy. She sees his freakout and he reels back saying that’s not the point… it kinda is though haha I swear only reason Tim was with her was to show how right Lucy was for him. How Lucy adds to him and Ashley only subtracts. He was so ready to just settle for he since he wasn’t going to get what he really wanted. More we learn about Ashley more we see him settling. Giving up parts of himself for her because he doesn’t think he’ll get those things anyway. (Marriage, kids, stupid in love happiness) Not till Lucy...Thus ends our marriage moments episode. I truly love this one.

~~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

Nyla being pathologically happy cause of the pregnancy hormones is hilarious. I love it so very much.

Thank you thank you to everyone who supports these reviews. Your likes, comments and reblogs give me life haha see you all in 4x13 :)

55 notes · View notes

writtenbymisunderstoodnerds · 1 year

Text

It's your birthday too (Christen x Tobin x Reader)

I don't know how I feel about this one, but I hope you like it :)

Words: 1.8K

I was hanging out with Ashlyn before Christens surprise birthday lunch. She knew about it, but she didn't know we had invited her whole family and a couple of her friends. We were scrolling through tiktok to kill time when a message from my brother popped up. I froze as I read what it said, knowing that Ashlyn had likely seen it as well. My suspicions were confirmed when she tapped into it.

Hey kiddo, I know you don't really celebrate it, but happy birthday little sis. I hope you have a good day whatever you're doing. Call me later, love you.

Ashlyn slowly turned her head toward me, "Y/n."

I swallowed hard before turning to face her, "Yes?"

"It's your birthday? Why didn't you tell me."

"It doesn't matter about me, it's Christens birthday." And it was true. My birthday was something that I didn't care about, my whole focus was on making it a good day for Christen. Honestly, I would forget it if my brother didn't message me every year.

Ashlyn looked at me like I had grown another head or something, I stifled the laugh that threatened to bubble out when I received a glare, "It's yours too Y/n not just Christens."

"Well yeah, but I don't celebrate it and Christen does. Now I have to go."

I escaped quickly, not allowing Ashlyn to say anything else. Christen was coming back to the room before lunch and I wanted to give her the present I got. Christen walked into our room a couple of minutes after me.

"Happy birthday Chris, I go-"

"Don't happy birthday me Y/n. Why didn't you tell me?" Christen stood in front of me, arms crossed as I decided to play dumb.

"Tell you what?"

Christen threw her hands up, giving me a 'are you serious' look, "That it's your birthday!"

I shrugged, I should have known Ashlyn wouldn't have kept it quiet. She likely texted everyone the second I left, "Because mine isn't important."

"Yes it is Y/n! It's important because you're here. It's literally celebrating you being born and I think that's something worth celebrating Y/n. You are amazing, you deserve to be celebrated."

I blushed turning away from her, trying my best not to show her how much she affected me, "I just don't celebrate it."

Her face softened slightly, taking a step toward me, "Why not?"

"Nothing good has ever happened on my birthday, when you share it with a twin who is very clearly your parents favourite, it's just not a good day." There was more to it then that, but I didn't really want to go into it. My parents and everyone else in my family had forgotten all of my birthdays after age 5. It had taken me a while to realise they hadn't forgotten, they just didn't care.

"Well, we want to celebrate you Y/n, I want to celebrate you. You could always restart your birthdays."

"I don't know if I can do that Chris. There's just so many bad memories."

"Then lets give you a good one," Christen said before cupping my cheek and connecting her lips with mine. I froze at the feeling of her lips on mine, they were so soft. I had wanted this for so long, but Christen had Tobin. I wanted them both, but had neither of them. I pulled away quickly, putting distance between us when my brain realised what was happening and I remembered Tobin, "I'm sorry I-"

"We ca- we can't do this, you, Tob-" I cut myself off when I saw Tobin standing in the doorway. I froze, expecting to be yelled at or anything really. Instead, a soft smile stretched along her face as she slowly stepped closer to me.

My brain stopped working as I stuttered an apology, it completely malfunctioned when Tobin wrapped her arms around me. "Happy birthday Y/n."

"I-I what?"

Tobin pulled away slightly to look at Christen, "I told you we should've waited until we were both here."

"I know, but she was sad, I just wanted her to not be sad anymore."

My heart seemed to stutter at that, but it also just increased my confusion. What the fuck was happening? I pulled away from Tobin, looking between the both of them. They were looking at me with such adoration, such love that butterflies erupted in my stomach. I did what I did best in situations that were uncomfortable or painful, I made a joke, "Wanna clue me in? I haven't quite mastered this whole mind reading thing yet."

Tobin snorted while Christen glared at her and actually explained, "We like you. We've been talking about telling you for a while, but weren't sure if you actually liked us or if we just wanted you to."

I took a second to process what Christen had said. There were no signs of dishonesty or reluctance, "Wait, so I get to kiss Tobin too?"

Christen nodded while Tobin looked at me with a slight smirk, "Please do."

I smirked, leaning in just to turn and connected my lips with Christen instead. Our lips moved in sync for a few seconds before I pulled away, leaving a quick peck on her lips. At this point there was no use in trying to hide my smile. It was no doubt huge and goofy, but I didn't care. I got the girls. I still wasn't sure if this would change the way I felt about my birthday, but it was definitely the best one yet.

"Why do I like you?" Tobin grumbled, pout appearing. She was adorable.

"Because I'm hot." I cupped the back of Tobin's neck, finally connecting our lips. I felt Tobin relax against me. Our lips moved in perfect sync as Tobin's hand settled on my waist, pulling me close. Her lips were actually softer than I expected with a hint of vanilla. Between her and Christen I was screwed. They were both so addicting. I slowly pulled away, head leaning down to rest on Tobin's shoulder as I took it all in. Tobin's fingers traced random patterns on my hip. I don't think I had ever seen her so soft before. Now it was directed at me, something I never expected to ever happen. It made me fall for her just that little bit more. I kissed her shoulder before pulling away to take Christens hand.

"Can I finally show you what I got you?"

"No, because I didn't get you anything."

"Chris, this is the best birthday I've ever had. The best birthday present I've ever gotten so please don't feel bad about it. You didn't know."

Christen sighed and I knew I had won, "Fine."

I handed her the small wrapped box, inside were two simple silver rings, one cut to look like mountains and the other cut to look like waves. I had seen them and instantly thought of Christen. She would love them, well so I hoped anyway as I stood there fidgeting nervously. I had been a bit nervous that Tobin might see the present as to much. That I had overstepped and it was too romantic or something. That nervousness had faded given what just happened, but I was still a bit worried Christen wouldn't like it.

"Y/n... These are amazing. They're beautiful, I love it so much. Thank you baby." My face warmed at the pet name as Christen kissed me then hugged me tightly.

I kissed her temple, holding her just as tightly, "You're welcome love."

Tobin groaned dramatically as we pulled apart, "You're giving me a run for my money Y/n/n."

"We can join forces in the future. What did you get her this year?"

"Um she's only opened one of them so far, the other is downstairs."

I rolled my eyes at Tobin's reluctance to answer. Obviously it was something she didn't want to share, "Could you be anymore vague? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"It's not that, it might just be a bit much information given that we just happened."

"Oh, so you got her a sex toy then," I laughed as both Tobin's and Christen's faces turned bright red. It was meant as a joke, but judging by the looks on their faces, it was accurate. "Wow, that was supposed to be a joke, but I mean that's a pretty good present. I look forward to seeing it. Now, as much as I would love to stay here, we have to go."

Their cheeks got redder then I thought possible as they both stumbled over what to say. I bit my cheek to stop the laughter as I walk out of the room. Christen and Tobin rushing to catch up.

---

We had decided the meal room was the better option for lunch seeing as all of us together were often quite crazy. Also add in Christens family, there was a lot of us. This morning we had decorated the room with happy birthday banners, balloons and anything the younger ones had decided to put up. I stopped in my tracks when I noticed my name had been added to the banner and there were two piles of presents. Everyone had decided to give Christen her presents all at once, but I had wanted to give her mine when it was just the two of us. How had they put this together so quickly?

"How?"

"We were tasked with distracting you while they set this up."

I tensed, was what just happened only a distraction, "Oh."

Tobin wrapped her arm around my waist, "Hey, we were always going to tell you about our feelings, it was just originally going to be tonight instead."

Christen placed her hand on my back, "Happy birthday Y/n."

"Happy birthday Chris." A wide smile spread on Christens face when she noticed her family standing in the back. She made a beeline toward them while I stayed by the door. Everything was a bit overwhelming. Having people actually care about my birthday was foreign and overwhelming. Tobin stayed beside me, arm still around my waist, as I lent into her to calm myself down.

Tobin discreetly kissed my neck before whispering, "I think there's someone waiting to say hi."

I looked up to find my brother standing a few steps away. I quickly pulled away from Tobin, running into his arms instead. It had been a long time since we had seen each other, "Jamie, what are you doing here? Did they set this up?"

"No, I had been planning on surprising you for your birthday, I just happened to show up when they were frantically trying to set everything up. I'm glad you finally told them."

"It wasn't me actually. It was you." He looked confused so I explained what had happened. He sheepishly apologised, but I wasn't actually annoyed anymore. I guess it wasn't a bad thing that they knew. Besides Jamie, they were the closest thing to family I had.

We laughed, talked and had a really nice afternoon. The girls had managed to run out and get me a bunch of new art supplies and stationary stuff. And I ended the night cuddled between Christen and Tobin after reassuring them again that I didn't care if they got me anything. I was just happy that I finally got the girls. Maybe I could get used to celebrating my birthday after all.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #christen press imagine #christen press x reader #christen press/reader #tobin heath x reader #tobin heath imagine #tobin heath

330 notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 2 years

Text

Wildest dreams, pt. 16

Summary: Meeting the imprints.

Warnings: fluff, angst

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

Sitting in the corner of what she could best describe as an all-girls sleepover, Y/N sipped on her tea trying to ignore the drying tear stains on her shirt. Her lower lip quivers each time she releases it from her teeth formed prison, the flesh bruised and swollen after her merciless, anxiety induced chewing.

Emily catches her gaze every now and then, but Y/N is quick to avert her eyes. She had been given some space to gather her thoughts, but how can she do that when her mind is far too engrossed in the very real possibility of losing Paul before she even had a chance to call him hers?

Would destiny be so cruel? After all the time she spent ripping him apart for things that happened so long ago, she would deserve this.

But he wouldn’t.

Paul wouldn’t deserve to die just to torture Y/N, or so she hopes.

“They’ll be fine”, one of the girl speaks to her. Her hair is short, down to her shoulders – black as is usual in La Push. Her face is wide, mainly in the cheeks thus making her eyes seem smaller than they are. The dark eyes reflect empathy, a kindness of spirit that allows Y/N to relax. She remembers her from high school. She was one of the few girls that hung around with the guys.

Y/N used to be so jealous of her,

At least she understands now.

“You’re Kim”, Y/N states. “Jared’s imprint.”

Nodding, Kim smiles softly. “One of the first imprints in the pack.” Reaching for Y/N’s hand, her smile widens. They’ve seen each other quite a lot, but they’ve never really spoken. When Paul was stuck to the bed, she barely paid any mind to anyone else and Kim understood that. She wouldn’t be interested in making new friends if something happened to Jared either. “I’ve done this quite a lot. It’s almost never anything more than a few scrapes and bruises.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N frowns. “I haven’t done this a lot, but mine came back with a lot worse last time.”

“Paul is strong. One of the strongest in the pack.” Looking around carefully, she leans in and whispers. “Don’t tell Jared I said that.”

Pressing the tip of her thumb and pointer finger, she runs them over her lips and locks them before throwing away the imaginary key over her right shoulder.

“Does the worry and constant fear fade away?” Placing her hand over her heart, Y/N lets out a shuddered breath. “I don’t think I can survive many more nights like this.”

“It’s always there”, a blonde speaks up. “Just as your love for him is. It’s like a phantom limb.” Shrugging, she manages a small smile as she looks at her hands. “Ever since I met Embry, I’ve felt it. I didn’t know the truth for the first few months of dating and I still felt it.”

She’s stunning. Shaking her head, Y/N suppresses a chuckle in disbelief. All those years ago, Y/N was so certain she’d marry Embry and they’d have a perfect life…like most young girls do. It never occurred to her they’d stop being friends at sixteen, or that their lives would be so different.

This girl is the epitome of beauty – as if the sun itself kissed her hair golden and the skies reflect in her eyes. She’s all Y/N never was nor can be. It’s silly, but the teenage girl that harbored those feelings for Embry is genuinely stumped at how dumb her crush was when this is his type.

“Embry never told me he imprinted.” Y/N admits.

“I’m Daisy.” Her eyes lighten up. “I’ve heard so much about you. Feels like I know you already!” It doesn’t look like she knows Y/N’s history with Embry and Y/N has no plans on changing that. Stirring drama isn’t good for anyone involved.

“I look forward getting to know you.” Y/N offers a friendly smile and for once, she means it. She can’t help but look around the room.

Next, she met Claire – Quil’s imprint. She’s still in high school and they’re friends. She’s dating her best friend – Andrea, who is also present.

The other girls were rather young as well, imprints of those who joined the pack as mere children at a time when vampires were frequent in the area.

They told her about Leah and Owen who live in Los Angeles, and of their daughter who is starting kindergarten.

Seth is one of the rare wolves who has yet to imprint on anyone, or so they said.

“What about Jacob?” Y/N furrows her eyebrows, confused. “You said almost everyone has an imprint. Does Jacob?”

Emily clears her throat. “He does.”

“Oh”, escapes her. She didn’t know if she was more hurt about the fact he didn’t tell her himself or about the way he talked to her as if he was interested in starting a romantic relationship with her when he came back.

Sure, not all imprints are romantic, Claire and Quil aren’t, but she didn’t believe Jacob would be able to resist a connection like that. It’s cosmic, all consuming. At least it is for her. So what happened to have him acting the way he did with her?

Before she can ask for details, the door opens and in an instant the room is overcome with joy. She watched as the girls leapt from their seats and into the arms of their loved ones. Emily kissed Sam, Claire and Andrea embraced Quil, Daisy nearly knocked Embry over as she jumped from the couch and straight into his chest.

Lips parting, she grips the hem of her skirt as Paul moves past Sam and pauses in front of the coffee table. Shirtless, the muscles on his chest move up and down as his breathing quickens at the sight of his imprint.

She’s curled in a chair, her hands shaking as she grips the hem of her skirt, pulling it down to make sure she’s appropriately covered. Her eyes are glossy, tied to him as if he’s the anchor she desperately needs to hold on to. His eyes flicker to the quivering chin and it’s enough for him to smile – she cares. Moving to her side, he falls to her knees before her.

Most would assume she’s indifferent, but they’d be blind. She’s tired, fighting tears and likely can’t even feel her legs to actually stand and run to his arms and he can feel it in his heart and soul that’s what she wanted to do. He didn’t need her to do that, he didn’t even see it worthy of a second thought. All he wants is to hold her hand and remind her he’s there – that he always will be.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The moment the palm of his hand rests over her pale knuckles, her hands relax and without a moment to waste, Y/N’s arms are wrapped around him, her face hiding in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay”, he whispers as he pulls her closer and lifts her up only to sit in her place, allowing her to remain in his lap, wrapped around him. “I’m here, dove. I’m here.”

“I hate that nickname”, she reminds him meekly and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Might grow on you”, he insists.

“You know, we are here too?! We deserve a hug, don’t we?” Embry exclaims, earning himself a middle finger from Paul.

“Oh, nice! Real mature!” Jacob remarks.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N pulls herself away just enough to rest her temple on Paul’s shoulder. “As mature as neither of you telling me you’ve imprinted”, she sasses back and Embry glances at Daisy nervously.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I’ve already been pushed off a cliff and into the ocean of madness you’ve got going on here. Meeting your soulmates would be a vacation compared to everything else”, she deadpans. “And Daisy is pretty amazing.”

“I know, right?!” Embry smirks as he pulls Daisy into a half embrace.

Raising her brows, she looks to Jacob. “And where’s yours?”

“Probably best we leave that for later”, Paul warns her gently.

“Why? What could be worse than Quil imprinting on a little girl?”

“Hey!” Quil pipes up.

“Well, she’s right”, Claire remarks and he quiets down.

“A newborn”, Seth spills the beans instead.

Wide eyes, she looks to Jacob. “No frickin’ way.”

“Mhmm”, Jared laughs. “Bella’s one minute old vampire baby!”

Opening her mouth to speak, Y/N stares at Jacob without a single word leaving her lips.

“Oh, come on! I didn’t exactly have a choice!” He reminds everyone. “If I did, I’d have imprinted on you!” Jacob points at Y/N.

Gripping her hip tighter, Paul narrows his eyes at Jacob. “Better watch that finger as well as your mouth, Jake.”

Tapping Paul’s shoulder, Y/N pecks his cheek. “We should probably go before you decide to eat Jacob for dinner.”

“He can try”, Jacob snorts, further angering Paul.

Realizing he’s shaking, Y/N swallows thickly. Placing her hand on his cheek, she turns his head to look at her.

The anger is burning in his eyes like a bonfire, spreading through his veins like a forest fire and yet, the moment she presses her lips against his, it’s as if a wave has washed over him, putting the fire out instantly.

It doesn’t take long for him to return the kiss, pulling Y/N closer until they can hardly breathe.

“WE CAN SEE YOU”, Seth reminds them, causing Y/N to laugh and pull away sheepishly.

“Thanks a lot, Seth”, Paul grimaces.

“What? I’d rather not barf the delicious cupcake I just had!”

And though the night didn’t quite end the way Y/N planned, she enjoyed the dinner they shared as a big family. She enjoyed hearing their stories and while some scared her to the core, being with Paul helped her heartbeat calm to a reasonable pace.

“You do realize I’m wearing an extremely sexy pair of red, lacy panties and a matching bra?” She whispers in his ear as the rest of them all seemed to be lost in their own conversations.

“Heard that”, Quil whines.

Throwing her head back, Y/N groans. “Get up”, she orders Paul who chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender.

“There is no way I’m going anywhere with you.”

With hands on her hips and raised eyebrows, she looks at Paul. “Do you prefer everyone here hearing all the dirty things I’d do to you, or would you rather have me skip theory and go straight to a practical approach?”

Paul hisses, “Temptress!”

“3”, she begins.

“What?”

“2”, she places a hand on her zipper and his eyes widen.

Jumping to his feet, he looks at the amused looks from his brothers in shock. “This is why I never wanted an imprint!”

Raising a brow, she takes a step back. “Excuse me?!”

Embry explodes with laughter, while Quil exclaims. “I GET YOUR HOUSE WHEN SHE KILLS YOU!”

“Not that I regret it”, Paul tries to coerce her to smile, but her eyes narrow at him.

“Sure”, she swallows thickly. “You’re right. Stay here.” Turning on her heel, she waves at everyone. “And I’m going home. Enjoy your night everyone.”

Watching her walk away in confusion, Paul rubs his forehead.

“What the fuck did I even do?”

“You basically told her that you didn’t want to imprint”, Daisy exclaims. “Which translates to: I didn’t want to be with you, but I am because a magic bond has made sure I can’t leave.”

Huffing, he shakes his head. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re a bigger idiot for standing there instead of running after her.”

“I was gonna!” Paul insists. “Just needed to know what to apologize for.”

Shaking his head, Jacob grimaces. “And this is the part where you run after her!”

“RIGHT”

_______________________

Tags: @the-chaotic-cow @xxxjaexxx @captainrogers-19 @bexloxl @laehlaluvs @adaydreamaway08 @sunsetevergreen @volturiwolf @twihard08 @galacticstxrdust @sorrow-and-bliss @ireadthensuetheauthors @missxmarvelous @locokoca @unstablekay @makhaia @venusdelaroix @avadakadabra93 @tearsforhan @a-marie-a @lendeluxe @seagulls-corner @jdbxws @kitabestboy @rottenstyx @itsmytimetoodream @dreamerwasfound @avis15 @whatevenisthisname @julia13123 @convolutings @rachelccollier @prvncessvibes @thingfromlove @jennyamanda8 @havecourage-darling@luvr-exe @alittlejudgemental @bugerie @turningtoclown @vikingsheart12 @emptydoorsandpaintedwindows

A/n - Anyone not tagged has either changed their @ or deactivated their account. If you haven’t and the tag didn’t work for you, let me know. I’d like to apologize for a relatively short chapter after waiting for a while, I’ve been having a lot of personal issues - work, health and especially the overwhelming depressing that’s been trying to win this little war we’ve been having for the past five years. So, I’ll try to be more active and write, but I really can’t make any promises.

PART 17

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote series #twilight #Twilight series #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #jacob black #embry call #sam uley #Quil Ateara #seth clearwater

546 notes · View notes