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joelscurls · 5 months

Text

give in to temptation

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

words: 5.5k

summary: you're in a relationship now — a good, healthy relationship — that doesn't stop you from texting your ex Javi late at night.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, post Narcos s3, porn with plot, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit smut, sexting, infidelity (I do not condone cheating, but unfortunately it's hot when it's with Javi), reference to masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names (cariño, querida, baby, etc.); lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: hi! enjoy 5kish words of dubious morals bc I couldn't get this idea out of my head :)

Humidity clings to the walls, bedsheets strewn across your legs damp with sweat. You kick at them aimlessly, and the cotton grips tighter to slick skin.

In the curve of your palm rests your phone, ringer switched off and brightness turned all the way down — the last thing you want is to wake your boyfriend, dozing next to you as you text another man.

Your fingers are clammy where they wrap around metal, sweat pooling in the divots between your knuckles.

This is wrong; you know it’s wrong, just like every time preceding this one. But the guilt does nothing to slow the adrenaline racing through your veins. If anything, it makes your heart thump harder.

That, and the words pixelated on the tiny screen of your flip-phone.

Javi [2:03am]: I’ve been thinking about you all day, cariño. Got me so hard.

You’d met Javier Peña just over a year ago.

A young woman alone at the bar, you’d drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had dark brooding eyes and a savior complex that’d been made more apparent with each story he’d shared about his time as a DEA attaché in Colombia, from which he’d recently returned.

Do you miss it? you’d asked, nursing a martini.

Like hell, he’d said. But I have nothing left to give.

I don’t know if I believe you, you’d countered with a wink.

Not an hour later, you’d found yourself in his living room, dress hiked up to your waist as he devoured you.

Sex with Javi was easy, mindless. For a while, his body served as a refuge for you after shitty days at work and arguments with your overbearing mother. A lone beacon in the fog, he was always more than willing to help you forget the stressors in your life. And your own name.

It was passionate, and filthy, and sticky — left your legs trembling and your head dizzy — each and every time.

With him, you didn’t have to talk. Didn’t have to think. It was just sex, with no strings and no labels. Your relationship, if you could call it that, was perpetuated by the transcendent pleasure you felt in the spaces between words, when your mouths were preoccupied.

But when your birthday came and went and you found yourself another year older, an aching feeling settled in your gut — a feeling that time had begun to pass more quickly than it used to. And on its heels came the desire for something more, something you knew Javi was not willing to provide: a relationship.

The decision to end things was mutual, amicable. It was the easiest “breakup” you’d ever gone through. Maybe because it wasn’t a “breakup” at all.

A few weeks later, you’d met Nathan, a law student with a polite disposition and an eagerness to settle down. He’d treated you well, the type to open doors for you and ask about your day. On all fronts, he was a good man — a little boring, but good.

After a month, you made it official. After two, he moved into your place.

And you stopped thinking about Javi, about the way his large hand had fit perfectly around your throat, the way he’d been able to coax you to orgasm in two different languages. No, you only thought about the man in front of you, the one with the steadily growing collection of argyle ties and the unstamped passport.

Sex with Nathan was admittedly different. He didn’t make you cum as quickly or as easily; your body didn’t crave his with the same amount of fervor it had Javier’s. But it was loving, sweet, what any woman would want…should want.

And it was normal that you thought about your ex sometimes when your current partner laid his weight on top of you, that you imagined a different mouth slotted against your neck or on your tits. Because certainly, everyone did that every once in a while. It was harmless.

As long as you never uttered his name out loud, he’d remain only in your head, lost to time to exist there forevermore.

But then came the day in the grocery store, on your date to the cereal aisle to restock Nathan’s favorite, bran flakes. He’d materialized like a ghost of good sex’s past.

You didn’t dare speak to him, didn’t trust yourself to. Under the bright fluorescent lights, you’d felt your palms begin to sweat, your throat constrict, eyes glued to the selection of boxes in front of you. But while Nathan debated between store brand and name brand, you’d snuck another cautious glance at him.

Javi’s expression was unreadable. He’d looked between you and Nathan as if he were trying to solve a rubix cube. One he was becoming increasingly frustrated by. He’d gripped the handle of his shopping cart so tightly, the skin on his knuckles appeared near translucent.

And then he’d disappeared, tiny wheels on the carriage screeching, noise barely audible over your pulse.

The first text came later that night.

Are you seeing someone? it’d read.

Yes, you’d replied. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk.

You’d quickly established ground rules: messages would only be exchanged after midnight, never two nights in a row, no calls, and — most importantly — Nathan would never find out.

Okay, Javi had said. Just one more rule: don’t use his name with me.

To your right, Nathan snores, the singular catch of an inhale in his throat, and the noise jolts you, face heating as if you’ve been caught.

Then he shifts, turns on his side, away from you. You feel a strange wash of relief. A semblance of privacy that you shouldn’t be after.

You respond to Javier with your tongue between your teeth.

You [2:04am]: thinking about me doing what?

Javi [2:06am]: Riding me. Your tits in my face. My hands on your ass.

Your breath catches, attention abruptly pulled to the incessant throbbing between your legs.

You definitely shouldn’t sneak to the bathroom and touch yourself. Shouldn’t send Javi a grainy photo of your fingers in your panties. Shouldn’t make yourself cum with your ex-lover’s name on your lips.

Not for the third time this week.

But when your cunt inadvertently clenches around nothing, your judgment is suddenly clouded.

With one last glance at the sleeping form beside you, you clamber to your feet and tiptoe down the hallway, wetness dripping down your thighs as you go.

The bathroom door closes with a quiet click. You fumble for the lightswitch, eyes reflexively squeezing shut when the room brightens.

You hover over the sink, steadying yourself against porcelain with one hand while you type furiously with the other.

You [2:10am]: yeah? you wanna suck on my tits?

The mirror parallel you reflects something out of a thriller, your pupils fully dilated and your forehead glistening with sweat. You almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at you in all her depravity.

You slump to the floor. Rest with your back to the side of the tub.

Javi [2:11am]: Dying to. Always felt so fucking perfect in my mouth.

Desperate fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, into your panties. The phone balances precariously in your other hand, thumb stumbling over buttons on the keypad.

You [2:12am]: I miss your cock.

Javi [2:13am]: That’s right, querida. Best you ever had, huh?

You [2:13am]: Yes. Always made me feel so fucking good.

Javi [2:15am]: Fuck. Are you touching yourself?

You swirl two digits at your entrance, amply coating them in your slick before dragging them up to your swollen clit. You can’t stifle the moan that slips past your lips.

You [2:16am]: yes

Javi [2:16am]: good girl

The phone distractedly tumbles from your grasp, clinking against tile as you begin to work yourself toward the brink.

And then — there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

The room spins, walls suddenly shrinking in on you as you wrench your hand out of your panties. Nathan’s voice on the other side is muffled, by the exhaust fan and by the ringing in your ears. But you can just decipher his words, his voice laden with sleep.

“Babe? Are you okay? I thought I heard-“

“Fine, I’m uh, I’m fine,” you say, scrambling to your feet, wiping wet fingers on your shorts.

The doorknob jostles, and it dawns on you then that you’d forgotten to fucking lock it.

“No! Don’t come in,” you sputter. The door hitches, less than an inch cracked. “I just had a stomach ache, but I’m okay now. I’ll be back in bed in a minute.”

“Oh.” He yawns. Pulls it shut again. “Okay.”

You brace yourself against the sink, struggling to slow your racing heart.

With a flush of the empty toilet, Nathan’s footsteps recede down the hall and out of earshot. You wash your hands, then, fingers shaking under the stream of lukewarm water.

You dry them hastily, not bothering to pick up the towel when it slides off the rail and onto the floor.

You [2:21am]: gotta go. sorry.

Javi [2:22am]: ???

Nathan is far too kind the following morning. He sets a plate of buttered toast and a mug of peppermint tea out for you on the kitchen table, and presses a nauseatingly gentle kiss to your forehead as you eat.

His amber eyes scan you like he’s searching for any indicators that you’re still hurting, fingers anxiously carding through his sandy hair.

You’re sure he’s clocked the dark circles marking your undereyes — not that he knows the real reason for them.

“I’m fine,” you promise when you feel him staring.

“Are you sure?” he probes. “The noise you made was…intense; you sounded really pained.”

Pained? Not exactly.

“I know.” You stuff the last bite of toast into your mouth. Tilt the empty plate toward him.

“But I’m okay; see? Even have an appetite this morning. It was just a weird bug or something.”

The lie burns on the way out, scalds your throat. But Nathan buys it. Doesn’t ask any further questions.

Still, he tells you to take it easy today on his way out the door.

You can’t look him in the eye when you insist that you will.

You call out of work, too sick with self-loathing to show your face in the office. Instead, you mope around all day, attempt to distract yourself with the overflowing hamper of laundry in the closet.

It’s futile though, your brain paralyzed by thoughts of Nathan finding out about the affair, and the clothes remain unwashed.

He returns that evening with a plastic bag in his clutch, the local pharmacy’s logo printed on the front.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a brand new heating pad. “I realized last night that we didn’t have one of these laying around.”

You know, at that moment, that you need to end things with Javi.

Nathan is good to you. He loves you with actions, not just words. Thinks of you before he thinks of himself, in every situation. And you — you’re cheating on him. Taking advantage of him. Not even trying to be what he deserves.

You’ll try harder. To love him, to think of him. No longer will you give in to brainless, animalistic needs. Surely, you can mimic the passion you have with someone else if you just try.

Try, try, try. You can do it.

Sleep evades you that night, coming in brief stints and leaving you breathless when you wake.

In those conscious moments, the analog clock in the corner of the room taunts you, glaring red neon making your head pound.

After three straight hours of tossing and turning, you decide it can’t wait any longer.

You fish your cellphone off the nightstand. Snap it open.

You [3:23am]: We need to end this before things get ugly.

You’re sure he won’t be awake this late; not without reason. But then — the screen blinks.

Javi [3:24am]: Nothing’s going to get ugly. Please, cariño.

You [3:24am]: I almost got caught last night. I don’t want to hurt him.

Javi [3:25am]: Can we talk about this? Javi [3:25am]: In person?

Your heart palpitates. For a moment, you swear it stops altogether.

You [3:26am]: What the hell? No Javi, I can’t.

Javi [3:27am]: C’mon. Just talk. Don’t you think you owe me that?

Your eyes flit to Nathan.

You watch him for a long moment: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slouch of his shoulders, the gape of his mouth.

He’s well and truly asleep. You’re sure you could sneak away without him waking. Slip out the door and get a cab to Javier’s, talk things through, and be back in bed before the sun rises — before Nathan even knows you’ve left.

And then everything will be just as it was before you messed this up. You can leave Javi in the past, where he belongs.

Of course, you’re not just going to talk. Deep in your bones, you know that. Know that when he’s there in front of you, you’ll be too weak to resist any of his advances.

Still, you play coy. Ignore the spring of excitement tightening in your abdomen.

In a move of finality, one which you know you won’t be able to come back from, you stand. Make your way into your closet to pull some pants and a t-shirt on, your cell phone clutched in your hand.

You [3:30am]: Fine.

Javier sends you his address — as if you’d have forgotten it. As if the name of his apartment complex isn’t permanently etched behind your eyelids, along with the wide slope of his shoulders and the plush of his bottom lip.

When the cab pulls up to the curb, the driver is visibly concerned. His bushy, gray brows thread together and his narrowed eyes catch yours in the rearview more than once on the drive across town.

It’s only when you reach Javi’s building and hand over your fare that the man speaks.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Quite late for you to be out on your own.”

His voice crackles, the smell of cigarette smoke heavy on his breath, and it’s strangely comforting.

“Yeah,” you promise as you push the door open and step out.

He rolls his window down, anxiously watching as you maneuver your way to the front door. And then he’s driving off, headlights vanishing into the thick night.

Javier lets you up on the first buzz. He’s waiting for you in the entryway of his apartment, leaning with a large hand pressed to the doorframe.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him: shirtless, bronze skin cast in the dim yellow light of the corridor.

His eyes rake over you the moment you’re in front of him, lingering when they catch on your collarbone, your breasts, your legs. He looks so imposing like this. You find yourself unable to move; frozen under his silent, lustful gaze.

“Are you — can I come in?” you ask meekly.

He nods then, a slow lift of his chin. Steps backward into darkness. You will yourself to take one step, and then another, following him over the threshold and past the point of no return.

It feels so odd to be here, in his space, with the intention of doing anything other than fucking. If you look close enough, you swear you can make out the shape of your body imprinted in the couch cushions, can hear lingering echoes of climaxes reached with your face shoved into one of his decorative pillows — can feel them, too.

Arousal pulls between your thighs. You ignore it.

You wonder how many other women have been here since you, have taken Javi in their hands or their mouths or their cunts. How many names that aren’t yours has he chanted in the throes of passion?

And — moreover — why do you care?

You don’t. You definitely don’t.

Javi pours you a glass of wine, fills a crystal with whiskey for himself. He flicks a lamp on, casting the room in an orange glow, and settles into the couch You follow his lead, perching yourself on one of the arm rests apprehensively.

“So,” you start. “About what we’ve been…doing-“

He cuts you off with a quirk of his brow, a flinch of his jaw.

“Javi,” you try again. “This has to — we can’t-”

“You’re sure you want to break it off, cariño?” His voice comes out low, dark.

And the thing is — you’re not sure. You wish you were, wish you had the strength to tell him definitively that it’s over, to go home to your boyfriend and block Javi’s number on the way out.

But the flex of his bicep when he hooks his arm behind his head, the knowing smirk playing on his lips, his cock — which you can’t see, but know is long and thick under his jeans — it all makes your head feel heavy.

You let the weight of it drop between your shoulders, hang there as you silently search for just a particle of sanity left in your being. You come up empty.

“Fuck,” you hiss, claw your fingers into your scalp. “This is — fuck.”

Leather groans under Javi’s weight. He stands. Steps in front of you.

You don’t dare look at him, not until he pinches your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to meet his. His eyes are charcoal-black, something devious swimming behind blown pupils.

“Baby,” he croons. “Why did you really come here?”

You play dumb. “What do you mean? To — to talk.”

His thumb skates along the underside of your jaw, soft and placating.

“We’re not really gonna talk — are we?”

Your head spins, mind clouded by Javier’s words, his touch. You sense yourself losing resolve just as he pulls you upright by both hands.

You’re so close like this; can taste the whiskey on his breath, can feel the warmth of his exhale against your skin.

His mouth moves to the shell of your ear, voice a mere whisper when he speaks again.

“Wanna know what I think, querida?” he asks, palm flattening at your lower back, pushing you flush against him. “I think you came here because texting wasn’t enough anymore, huh? Think you missed me.”

And the truth is, you have missed him — painfully so. You’ve missed the timbre of his voice, the caress of his hands, the stretch of his cock. All just in reach, tangible for the first time in so long.

Your need for him borders on carnal. The feeling snakes its way up from your stomach into the cavern of your ribcage, splays its weight across your delicate, pounding heart.

And then the rational part of your brain whirs weakly to life.

What are you doing?

“I have a boyfriend,” you say. You’re not sure who you’re reminding.

“Mhm,” Javi mutters, deft fingers peeling the fabric of your t-shirt up, up, up your body. You don’t stop him.

“And does your boyfriend —“ he kneels down, presses a kiss where exposed skin meets denim — “make you feel as good as I do, cariño?”

You can’t answer that. It wouldn’t be right. Because any of this is.

“Javi — I,” you try, cut off abruptly by dull teeth in the flesh of your waist. You yelp, the sweet sting quickly dissipating as he pauses. Pulls back.

“You can say it,” he goads with a wicked smirk. “I won’t tell him.”

“He — no,” the words leave you before you even feel them in your mouth, and then you’re cursing yourself. You can’t take it back — it’s too late. Javi knows, you know. The only one still in the dark is Nathan.

Javier says your name. His tone is different, soberingly serious.

“Tell me to stop.”

Fuck.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, “and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, so quiet you barely hear yourself.

“Cariño-”

“I can’t,” you stammer, louder. “I — fuck, Javi. Please.”

“Please?”

He knows what you’re asking for; he just needs to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me.”

In an instant, he’s standing back up, grasping at your sides and impatiently guiding you onto the couch. He brackets you against the cushions, one hand splayed next to your head on the backrest, the other popping the button of your jeans open.

You lift your ass as he tugs them down your legs, pulls them past your ankles and leaves them in a heap on the floor. And then he’s moving down your body, kneeling at your altar and prying you open for him.

You surrender to him willingly, desperation growing when he pulls your panties aside and gazes at your glistening sex, transfixed by you.

“This gorgeous pussy,” he hums, leaning down to taste you.

“Yeah?” you breathe. “You miss it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he groans. Dips his tongue into the apex of your heat, refamiliarizing himself with your nectar before licking a languid stripe up to your throbbing clit.

You writhe under him, beg with wordless whines and whimpers for more. He knows your sounds, knows their tells, soothes you with a gentle shh against your cunt.

His lips wrap around your clit, then, envelope it completely as he starts to suckle, and the sudden sensation makes you buck your hips.

“Javi — fuck, oh — holy-”

He retreats, mouth shiny with your arousal. “What is it, baby? Your boyfriend doesn’t eat your pussy like this?”

“He doesn’t,” you admit breathlessly. Javi clicks his tongue. Faux-pouts at you.

His lips reattach to your clit and you curse.

“Fuck, Javi, he — he’s never-“

The half-admission stops him in his tracks. He stares back up at you with narrowed eyes.

“Cariño, don’t tell me he doesn’t go down on you?”

Your face heats. “He — he says he doesn’t like to do it.”

Suddenly, Javi looks livid.

His fingernails dig into the meat of your inner thighs mindlessly. You watch his lip twitch and his eyes roll to the ceiling.

He’s unaffected by much these days — but Javi clearly doesn’t take kindly to a man not pleasuring his woman. Especially when you are the woman in question.

“Pendejo,” he murmurs.

“Javi,” you whine. “Please.”

Your pleading voice seems to snap him out of it. Or at least remind him of the task at hand.

He returns his attention to your dripping pussy with one final huff. “Gonna take care of you baby, don’t worry.”

You anchor yourself with fingers of one hand twisted in the dark, sweaty curls at the crown of his head. Two digits on the other pinch at one of your hardened nipples, just as Javier begins to swipe his tongue back and forth over your clit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, draping your trembling legs over his shoulders.

He licks your cunt like he fears you’re going to melt, lathes over your clit again and again with the wide flat of his tongue. The wet squelch of him slurping at you, eager to catch every last drop of your arousal, bounces off the walls obscenely.

You hope, fleetingly, that his neighbors are heavy sleepers. Better yet, that they’re out of town.

Maybe he’s putting in extra effort because he knows now that your boyfriend isn’t doing this for you at home. Or maybe he’s just better at it than you remember. Regardless, you find yourself completely overcome with ecstasy, close to falling apart on Javi’s tongue in a matter of minutes.

As soon as he curls two fingers into your cunt, you’re gone, cumming so hard your vision pulls and your thighs shake.

You sing Javi’s name like a hymn. It rolls off your tongue effortlessly, naturally. Like it’s made for you to recite.

He lets you come down, soothes you with gentle hands stroking along your thighs, soft lips pressed to your sensitive mound.

When your breathing evens, he lifts off of his haunches, motions for you to lay flat on the couch with your neck supported by the armrest. And then he shucks his pants off, his cock immediately springing up to his stomach, a trail of precum dripping down his navel.

You’d forgotten how gorgeous it was — the heady, pink tip shiny with arousal, veins running along the underside of the thick base prominent. It twitches in interest as Javier leans down to kiss you, prods against your slick inner thigh when his tongue presses into yours.

You hook your legs around his back, desperately attempting to pull him closer, attempting to drag him into your achingly empty cunt.

He grins against your lips, hand moving between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance.

“Impaciente,” he mumbles.

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please Javi, need it.”

“Yeah?” He pauses with his cockhead right at your seam. “How bad?”

“Fuck — so bad, need it so bad.” Your nails burrow deeper into flesh. He hisses.

“God damn, querida; that much, huh?”

“Yes, Javi,” you groan. “Please just-”

He bottoms out in one deep thrust, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. You moan in unison, his head falling against your shoulder as he slowly begins to move.

Your cunt sucks him in greedily, clenching around him over and over again. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of his cock nudging your g-spot with every roll of his hips. You wonder how you went so long without this. Fear you won’t be able to again.

He pulls all the way out and snaps into you before setting a new, brutal pace, one that leaves you babbling underneath him.

The room grows palpably warmer, white heat licking at your neck, your chest, your back — where it sticks to leather. You find yourself lost in the way your bodies move together; a dance you’ve done so many times before; one you’d perfected all those months ago.

“Shit,” Javi slurs. “Take me so well, cariño. Like you’re — ahh — made for me.”

I am, you want to say.

“Fuck,” you moan instead, “so good, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. You’re going to snap soon, going to cum for a second time, soak his cock.

You tighten around him, a silent warning. He slips out and you whine at the loss. But then he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, spreading you wider for him and delving back in at a new angle that makes you scream.

You can feel it building now, like a snowball in your abdomen. You can’t fight it, can barely warn Javi, his name spilling brokenly from your throat as your orgasm crests.

He talks you through it with praises whispered in your ear. So beautiful, princesa — that’s it. So pretty when you fall apart on my cock. There you go; let it all out, baby.

Fucked-out and boneless, you beg for Javi to please cum inside.

He growls, low and primal, gripping tightly to the flesh of your waist as his thrusts begin to falter. “That what you want, querida? Want to — shit — want to go back to your boyfriend with me dripping out of you?”

“Yes,” you chant thoughtlessly, yes, yes, yes.

“Dirty. Fucking. Girl.” he grits, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips.

He spills inside you with his teeth in the crook of your neck. There’s so much of it, filling your cunt, leaking out around his cock and onto leather. It sates you in a way you didn’t know possible, as if your womb needs to be claimed by him and only him. Nobody else will do.

You almost resent the feeling of your eyesight returning and your breaths steadying. You don’t want to come down — not if it means you need to go home.

But the sky outside is turning purple, bruising with the threat of a new day on the horizon, and you know your time together is nearly up.

“Javi,” you mutter, his chest still heaving against yours, cock softening inside you.

“Up.”

He shifts, pulls out in a devastating loss, and retreats to the opposite side of the couch.

You begin to knead the muscles in your aching calves, Javi fumbling with the pack of cigarettes on the side table next to him. He takes one out and lights it, the end glowing faintly.

“What do we do?” you ask. He rubs at the crease in his forehead, definitely set there by years of chasing after drug cartels. Maybe also by running away from meaningful conversation with you.

“You can’t go back to him,” he mumbles.

You scoff. “I can’t? I have to Javi, Nathan is my-“

“Don’t say his name,” he snaps, abruptly ashing his cigarette and turning to face you. He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his lips downturned.

“What do you want from me, Javi?” you bite, pulling your panties back into place and reaching for your jeans where they lay on the floor. “You want me to be at your beck and call forever? Cheat on him until one of us dies?”

“I —“ Javi sighs. “No.”

“Then what?” You pull your pants on: one leg, then the other. Pull your shirt back down to cover your breasts.

“I — want you.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

“What?”

“All of you,” he clarifies. “When I saw you with him for the first time in that grocery store — my heart sank. I didn’t — didn't realize how serious my feelings were for you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you end things that day.”

He stands. Braces pleading hands on your shoulders.

“I know I’m an asshole,” he continues. “I thought I could never be someone’s partner. That I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be good. How could I be when I’ve done so much bad in my life?”

You sink into his touch. His words.

“Javi-“

“No, cariño — I need you to hear this. I want to be good for you, know I can be. I’ll do anything. I just — I can’t let you get away again.”

You feel as if you’ve just been struck by an arrow. Or, more accurately, a train. Your bones hurt and your insides twist.

You’re silent for a long moment, watching as his eyes desperately search yours. You know you need to say something eventually, put him out of his misery, but you’re too afraid to find out what happens next.

The undeniable fact that you want to be with him too is almost too much to bear. You’ll have to break it off with Nathan, split his heart in half. He doesn’t deserve it, you think, over and over.

But then, maybe you don’t deserve to remain unhappy. Unfulfilled.

Maybe you need to hurt him once in order to stop repeatedly hurting yourself.

“You’re good, Javier,” you say then. “You’re a good man. You deserve good.”

“Yeah?” his voice cracks. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He retracts them with a deep breath in.

You grab the sides of his face. “Yes. And I — I want you too.”

Javier kisses you, so deep you think your lips might bruise. There’s finality in it — you’re his and he’s yours — and no longer will you pretend that’s not the case.

He drives you back to your place, unwilling to let his girl get in another cab alone before daylight.

Laredo looks beautiful at dawn, all dozing buildings and empty roads. You pass by your workplace and groan at the realization that you’ll have to be back there in a few hours; you can’t call out again. A stack of unfiled reports will surely be waiting for you atop your desk.

That dread doesn’t last long, though, not when you look to the man in the driver’s seat, the one who makes your mouth water and your heart skip.

When he catches your gaze, corner of his mouth turning up at you mischievously, you know for certain that everything will work out just fine.

Javi turns onto your street slowly, moreso than he needs to, a possessive hand gripping your thigh.

“Will you let me know how it goes?” he asks when the car pulls up to the curb.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I mean, I think it’s safe to say it won’t go well, but-“

“I know. But if he gives you any more trouble than he needs to, you call me.”

Your eyes flit up to your bedroom window, blinds drawn up and curtains pulled aside. The room is still dark, Nathan no doubt still asleep.

You’ll go up in a second. After you kiss Javier one more time.

He seems taken aback when your lips catch his, maybe because it’s crazy to do this here, now. But you can’t help it. Can’t keep your hands — or your mouth — off of him now that you have him.

He relaxes into it after just a second, licking into your mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to the back of your head to hold you against him.

And then — he abruptly pulls away.

“Shit,” he curses, staring wide-eyed at the window.

You follow his eyeline, freezing when you see what he sees: Nathan, tall and shadowy, looking straight at you.

“Well,” Javi laughs nervously, “I think he knows.”

end notes: ty so much for reading! pls consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed :)

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avis-writeshq · 5 months

Text

05 — enchanted

summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make.

O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ‘groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases.

“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.

You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”

JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”

“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”

Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”

You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”

The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt.

“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.

Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”

JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”

“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”

“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice.

“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum.

Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”

“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”

JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”

“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone.

“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”

Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”

“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”

You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”

“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”

Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm.

“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”

Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”

You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”

The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.

You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–

“Trouble in paradise?”

An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”

The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.

“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.

You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”

Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

***

After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions.

“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.

She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”

“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”

Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”

“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”

Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”

Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”

“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”

Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.

“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you.

“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”

“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).

You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He’s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”

Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”

“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”

Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”

“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”

“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”

“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”

You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”

“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”

You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”

You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”

Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”

“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”

You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.

Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.

“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”

You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.

“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”

“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back.

“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”

“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”

He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”

“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”

“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”

“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”

Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”

***

It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.

You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground.

‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’

The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity.

The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes.

The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?

It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer.

“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”

“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”

You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”

He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”

“Always.��

He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up.

The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing.

“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”

You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”

“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”

A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”

Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”

He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby.

“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”

Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”

You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”

He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”

“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat.

He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”

What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought.

“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch.

He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”

“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling.

“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”

He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here.

He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down.

“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”

You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin.

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”

You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.

“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”

The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain.

He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?

“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.

He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” you respond, your head spinning. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”

“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”

“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”

A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”

“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”

He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”

“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”

Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.

***

It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring.

“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”

“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful.

“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.

You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”

“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.

“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line.

She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”

You hang up.

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nyaagolor · 7 months

Text

Thinking abt Ace Attorney Social media HCs

Phoenix: Technologically illiterate, doesn’t really know what social media is or how to use it and refuses to learn because the longer he keeps up the bit the funnier it gets

Edgeworth: Doesn’t particularly care for social media, but found out about tumblr through Maya and now has an anonymous Steel Samurai account. His tagging system is meticulous and he has all notifications turned off. He treats it like he does office work. He and Maya are mutuals. Doesn’t have a personal account to speak of

Maya: Runs a semi-popular canon url pink princess and steel samurai fan tumblr. Also has a personal Instagram that’s mostly her eating burgers

Pearl: Didn’t have social media for a long time because of Morgan, but Maya introduced her and she has a very inactive private Instagram. She’s also in charge of the Kurain Village socials, which are very neat and professional

Mia: Was technologically illiterate and died before the social media boom was completely inescapable so nada

Diego: Socials weren’t as big before he fell into a coma and afterwards he doesn’t care too much about his image so he has nothing. HOWEVER, Maya started a twitter called “dead philosopher wisdom” that’s just random Diegoisms. He’s doing NUMBERS on there but is unaware of it because he doesn’t use twitter

Franziska: Knows how social media works because she needs it for her job but doesn’t use it very often. Her account has like 2 posts on it and she mostly uses it to keep track of targets and online paper trails

Kay: Runs an instagram account called “Edgeworth where he shouldn’t be” that’s nothing but silly and embarrassing candids of Edgeworth. Oldbag won’t stop messaging her asking who she is and how she’s getting these pictures

Apollo: Has a twitter with two followers that he uses to retweet and comment on legal academia news. He’s super active on all the law forums and legal advice columns and unfortunately has definitely posted on r/AskALawyer on mutliple occasions. His real claim to fame, though, is the anonymous Instagram he runs for his cat Mikeko. It’s called “The Pawsecutor’s Office” and he dresses up Mikeko like all the prosecutors (Miles Edgepurrth, Clawvier Gavin, Franziska Von Catma, etc) for photoshoots and silly skits. It’s wildly popular and Apollo would die if he were revealed to be behind it

Klavier: Super popular across all platforms and loves being silly online. If Edgeworth saw all the thirst traps he was posting he would prolly have a heart attack

Kristoph: Has a very minimal personal account for professional reasons but his REAL online footprint is the dozens of alternate accounts he uses to cyberstalk people and send his brother hate mail

Athena: Perfectly normal social media user. Has personal accounts that she posts to occasionally with cute photos of what she’s doing. The only person using it correctly

Trucy: Insanely popular on socials for her magic act. Knows how to market herself online better than anyone. She has a smaller personal account where she occasionally posts silly things about the WAA

Blackquill: Ran an edgy anime Tumblr for years before his incarceration and was posting on AO3 a lot. He comes back after his release explaining the break between chapters of his latest fanfiction was due to him being put on death row for seven years and continues posting normally with no mention of his prison sentence ever again. When he finally posts another AMV it’s a joyous day indeed

#ace attorney #Phoenix Wright #miles Edgeworth #Maya fey #Mia fey #Diego Armando #Pearl fey #Franziska Von karma #Kay faraday #Apollo justice #Klavier Gavin #kristoph gavin #Trucy Wright #Athena cakes #Simon blackquill #headcanons #mod vex

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 5 months

Note

Jealous!Cheol quiet through the whole ride so furious , and when you got home all your clothes vanished within a second , and before you knew you were already pinned at the wall of your badroom being drilled by che0l's humongous dick whispiring onto your ears

"Baby i haven't even started, and yet you're already crying?" "What? huh? , if you weren't being flirty with jeonghan you won't get this treatment."

- Y

(This brainrot for cheol's big dick is NOT IT, IMAGINE, goodness gracious i feel like sucking his diCK would be soooo DIFFERENT)

tw: hard dom!seungcheol, established relationship, sub fem!reader, reader is smaller than seungcheol, big dick!cheol, manhandling, fingersucking, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, jealous sex, creampie, cheol is pissed and possessive™

"Cheol."

No response.

"Cheol, come on, it was just a joke." You pout.

Seungcheol doesn't respond this time either. He just looks at you and clenches his jaw, swiftly returning his gaze to the road ahead. His knuckles are white from gripping the wheel too tight for his own good.

You just wanted to play jokes on your boyfriend with Jeonghan during the dinner at his house. But the jokes went a bit too far when your mutual friend pecked your cheek as a thank you for helping him clean the table.

You're fisting the hem of your dress, knowing you're in for a long night tonight. You know Seungcheol is pissed as fuck, judging from the way he's almost breaking the traffic laws to get back home.

And it has your panties turning into a lake.

The ride from Jeonghan's home usually takes twenty minutes, but Seungcheol completes it in ten. He parks the car in the garage with swift motions, opening the door to get out in the blink of an eye.

"Get out." He opens the door for you, tone sharp as a knife. You gulp down audibly as you get out of the car and he slams the door, grabbing you from the wrist.

He pulls you behind him all the way from the house entrance to the bedroom, his fingers bound to leave bruises on your wrist.

Once you recognize the walls of your shared bedroom, you find yourself pinned against one, with Seungcheol's body blocking your escape - not that you would attempt that.

"You do realize you fucked big time tonight, am I right, sweetheart?" He grips your jaw with his hand. "Don't even try to deny it."

"Cheollie, I'm so sorry-"

"Cheollie? You think you have the right to call me that?" He tilts his eyebrow, squeezing your cheeks together.

"I am sorry! I didn't think-"

"You didn't think what? That I would be pissed at you for letting Jeonghan kiss your cheek? Put his lips on what is mine?"

He puts his hands on your chest and grabs the material of your dress, ripping it just enough to uncover your bralette and rip that as well.

"Cheol! These were new!" You whine.

"One more complaint out of that mouth of yours and I will shove my dick down your throat until you beg me to breathe." Seungcheol growls as he throws his blazer on the bed and rolls up the sleeves of his button-up.

He unbuckles his pants just enough to let his cock spring out, rock hard and flushed from the base to the tip. He bunches your dress around your waist and he hooks his forearm under your knee to lift it up and rip your matching panties with his other hand.

"Act like a little slut and you'll get treated like one." He lines up his cock with your hole and pushes in with more force than usual, his tip ramming its way inside you.

"U-Ughhh..." You groan, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your pussy tries to accomodate to Seungcheol's shaft without any actual prep.

"You're taking me that well without prep? Bless your messy cunt, princess." He licks his lips and lifts your other leg as well. He throws your ankles over his shoulders, your stilettos still on as he pushes you harder on the wall, his cock now all the way to the base inside you.

"It's t-too deep-" You gasp, voice audibly strained. "God, you're all the way in, fuck!"

"Good. I plan to stay that way all night long, until your pussy molds in the shape of my cock and can't stay empty without it."

Seungcheol wraps one arm around your waist and puts the other one on your jaw again and starts moving his hips in an unforgiving pace. His heavy cock drags against your warm walls, battering your sensitive spot again and again with the tip.

Your jaw goes slack and your voice disappears, your hands wrapped around your boyfriend's forearm. He looks at you with like a hungry wolf and puts two of his fingers in your mouth.

"You are mine and only mine." He pushes them in until you start gagging around them. "I am the only one who gets to kiss you, hug you, touch you, fuck you stupid and full of cum, my cum."

The tears now run down on your cheeks and you moan around his fingers, your tongue greedily lapping at his digits.

"That's more like it, suck them good with your slutty mouth, fuck," he speeds up his hips, meaty thighs slapping against your ass, "My pretty little whore. Makes me wanna dump my load in you and send pics to Jeonghan of your ruined little cunt."

Seungcheol's words make you clamp down on his cock and he lets out a scoff, lips curling in a wolfish grin. He takes out his fingers and you take deep breaths, moans mixing in.

"Is that what you want, Y/N? To show our friend that you're my pretty little cumdump? My slutty princess?"

"F-Fuck yes, I'm your pretty slut!" You sob loudly.

"That's right, baby. Now you better take all of my fucking cum in your hole and keep it there." He slams his lips on yours, moaning in your mouth and sucking your tongue messily.

Your screams echo in his mouth when his cock explodes in your pussy and paints your walls white, triggering your own orgasm. Your legs have gone numb from the impossible stretch he has put you in.

But you are ready to sell your soul to Satan in order to keep Seungcheol fucking you like that.

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen smut #answered✨#y anon

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lavenderstobins · 12 days

Text

Wayne Munson Headcanons

Wayne was born and raised in Tennessee but moved to Hawkins when he was older. He briefly moved away but moved back after Eddie came out to him, wanting a fresh start

He was raised as an Evangelical Christian

He's the oldest of three, having a younger brother and a younger sister. His sister died young and Wayne never got over that grief

He had an abusive father, which contributed to his brother acting out as a teenager

He fought in Vietnam and subsequently hates guns as a result

His first job was in a pastry shop, but his father made him quit and get a job as a mechanic

He was very close to Eddie's mother (his sister-in-law) but kept his distance for his brother's sake

When his brother goes to jail for what seems like good, he tries to help out Eddie and his mom as best as he can

When Eddie's mom dies, Wayne feels like he didn't do enough

Wayne took Eddie in without hesitation. He'd been in a longterm relationship at the time and having Eddie with them broke it down, but Wayne wouldn't sacrifice Eddie for anyone

Wayne is the one who introduces Eddie to Garfield

Wayne had a brief relationship with Benny Hammond. He was in love with him, but felt he couldn't risk letting them be in love. He's heartbroken when he hears Benny committed suicide

When Eddie comes out to him as a boy, he does so by mentioning the D&D spell "modify memory" in his explanation. Wayne stays up for hours squinting at the handbook long after Eddie's fallen asleep, wanting to be supportive

Wayne was the one to buzz Eddie's hair, after he came out

Wayne loves fishing. He used to have a fishing group that consisted of him, Benny, Dale, Henry and Earl. Over the years, it becomes just him

Wayne braves a gay nightclub one night when Eddie's at a friend's. He goes a few more times and ends up having a one night stand with Scott Clarke, much to their mutual surprise when they bump into each other at the school

Wayne thinks he's cursed. He thinks the Munson name is cursed

When the mall 'burns down', he starts suspecting Hawkins is cursed, too

He cries when he sees Eddie in a coma after s4

He's suspicious of Steve initially. That quickly changes when he learns Steve was the one to carry Eddie out of the Upside Down

He finds out Steve and Eddie are dating when he walks in on them making out on his couch

He has designated mugs for different things. He brings a Garfield 'gone fishing' mug out with him when he's fishing. He has a snowy Garfield mug that he pulls out in winter

He ends up dating Claudia Henderson sometime after the Upside Down shit is finally over

He treats Steve, Robin and Nancy like they're his kids, too. And Max. Then by the end of the year he's essentially half-adopted the entire Hawkins gang

He has a soft heart and cares deeply about troubled kids. His friends joke that he has a 'waif in need' alert (thanks @pukner)

He doesn't want to get married, claiming he won't marry 'til his boy can marry

He's a man of few words. He's not good at showing physical affection, but he's prouder of Eddie than he could ever say

Calls Eddie 'his boy'

Heavily distrusts the government. Milks them for all he can when Eddie's recovering in the hospital. Lays it on thick with Nancy's help and then winks at her when the government agent bustles out of the room

Loves watching the game on TV. Eddie complains when Steve and Wayne get together for the game but is secretly thrilled about his favourite people spending time together

His clothes get passed around from Eddie to Steve to Robin to Nancy and back again. When Robin shows up in one of his flannels he doesn't even blink

#stranger things #wayne munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie #my headcanons

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many-shades-of-violence · 8 months

Text

with an s/o that´s void of any emotion when they´re out and about but bursts in energy once they're alone I Law, Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Corazon, Ace, Sabo

✢ content: Fluff, Emotional Comfort, Exploration of Social Behavioral Patterns

✢ characters: Law, Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Corazon, Ace, Sabo

✢ requested by: @anonymous

Law, being incredibly perceptive, quickly recognizes your habit of appearing cold and emotionless in public. Drawing from his own experiences, he senses that this demeanor is a coping mechanism, much like his own defense mechanisms.

When you're alone together, Law approaches you with patience and understanding. He respects your need for privacy and personal space, and his calm and collected nature provides a sense of stability for you.

In your private moments, Law creates a safe space for you to express yourself freely. He encourages you to open up about your feelings and thoughts, offering a listening ear without judgment.

Your bursts of energy come to life in Law's presence. He appreciates your authenticity and finds solace in the moments where your emotions shine brightly, even if they're in stark contrast to your usual public persona.

Your shared moments are marked by meaningful conversations, gentle touches, and the comfort of knowing you can be yourself without restraint. Law's own journey of healing makes him empathetic and supportive as you navigate your own emotional landscape.

Zoro's keen observation skills allow him to notice your detached and emotionless demeanor in public. His respectful nature prompts him to give you the space you seem to need.

He's genuinely intrigued by your dual nature and might ask you straightforwardly about the contrast between your public and private self.

Alone together, Zoro's straightforward approach remains intact. He appreciates your honesty and is willing to listen whenever you're ready to talk.

Your bursts of energy come alive in Zoro's presence. He inspires you to let go of your emotional barriers and engage in passionate conversations, sparring sessions, or even just shared moments of silence.

Your private moments with Zoro are marked by mutual respect, shared experiences, and a growing sense of trust. Zoro's determination and dedication act as a beacon, guiding you toward embracing your true self and expressing your emotions more freely.

Luffy's carefree and adventurous nature finds your unique way of interacting with the world intriguing. He approaches you with his usual curiosity, eager to uncover the mystery behind your outward demeanor.

Your bursts of energy, once unleashed in Luffy's presence, captivate him. He enjoys your company and creates a space where you can be genuine without any pretenses.

Together, you share moments of excitement and joy. Luffy's exuberance encourages you to embrace your emotions, and his genuine laughter becomes infectious.

Your private moments are characterized by shared laughter, spontaneous activities, and an unspoken connection. Luffy's simple approach to life helps you realize that emotions are meant to be felt and expressed openly.

Luffy's friendship and acceptance become a source of strength. His willingness to be himself without reservations teaches you the value of authenticity and helps you break free from the emotional constraints you place on yourself.

Sanji is drawn to your mysterious aura, sensing that there's more beneath the surface. He treats you with patience and respect, allowing you to set the pace for your interactions.

His charming gestures and small acts of kindness showcase his affection for you, even as you maintain your emotional distance in public.

When alone with Sanji, his nurturing side takes center stage. He cooks special meals for you and listens attentively, making sure you know you're cared for.

Your moments of energetic expression are met with understanding and support. Sanji appreciates your willingness to open up to him and treats your emotions with utmost respect.

Together, you share private moments of vulnerability, heart-to-heart conversations, and a growing bond built on mutual trust. Sanji's ability to show love through his actions helps you appreciate the beauty of connecting on a deeper emotional level.

Corazon, having faced emotional challenges himself, recognizes your tendency to put up emotional barriers in public. He respects your need for space and takes the time to understand your coping mechanisms.

His own gentle and patient nature allows you to feel safe around him, and he approaches you with a deep empathy born from his own struggles.

When you're alone together, Corazon creates an environment of safety and trust. He understands the importance of giving you the freedom to express yourself when you're ready.

Your bursts of energy find a receptive audience in Corazon. He listens with a caring heart and encourages you to explore the emotions you've been keeping hidden.

In your private moments, you share quiet conversations, moments of creativity, and a sense of mutual support. Corazon's ability to find beauty in the world and his willingness to see beyond your facade help you realize that your emotions are worth embracing and sharing.

Ace's outgoing and adventurous nature contrasts with your cold and reserved demeanor. He's intrigued by the enigma you present and approaches you with a friendly curiosity.

He treats you with respect and openness, valuing your individuality and recognizing that there's more to you than meets the eye.

Alone with Ace, his warmth and sense of adventure come to the forefront. He creates a space where you can open up at your own pace without judgment.

Your bursts of energy come alive in Ace's presence. He encourages you to embrace your emotions and enjoy the thrill of shared experiences.

Your private moments are characterized by laughter, daring escapades, and a growing connection. Ace's willingness to embrace life fully inspires you to express yourself more openly and embrace your own emotions.

Sabo's understanding nature allows him to recognize your tendency to appear distant in public. He respects your need for privacy and creates an environment where you can be comfortable.

He's drawn to the mystery of your dual nature and seeks to understand the reasons behind your emotional facade.

When you're alone together, Sabo's patience and attentiveness shine through. He listens without judgment, creating a safe space for you to express yourself.

Your bursts of energy find a welcome response in Sabo's open-hearted enthusiasm. He appreciates the moments when you let down your guard and share your true emotions.

Together, you experience private moments of connection, shared laughter, and a growing bond. Sabo's caring and understanding nature helps you navigate the balance between your public persona and your true self.

#one piece #op #sabo #sabo x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace #trafalgar d law #law x reader #corazon #corazon x reader #donquixote rosinante x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #ruffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #my stuff #writing

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 months

Text

Got Me Thinking

Part 1: Butterflies

Synopsis: a reunion that is well overdue makes your heart flutter once you lay eyes on your first love in more than ten years and the feelings that you thought were long gone come rushing back

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Sighing to yourself, you quickly pulled out your phone and started looking for plane tickets to head back home to Louisville. It had been a little while since you had been back, but your biggest reason for going was to get away from him.

Him being your husband, Xavier.

The two of you had been married for only three years, but you were over it. You had come to the realization that the person you married was long gone and that there really was no hope left. The less that you were around him, the better.

You knew he was cheating on you and you recently discovered that he had gotten another woman pregnant and that she was due in less than a month.

He had no idea that you knew all of that information and since you found out, you had just been biding your time and had since opened up another bank account to save money in order to plan to get away from him.

The goal was to move back to Louisville so that you could be closer to your parents and siblings who stayed there while you were the only one that left.

Booking your flight, you closed your phone to begin packing since you would literally be leaving within the next few hours. At this point, you were desperate and longing for a peaceful environment.

You knew that he wouldn't ask any questions about where you were and it seemed as if it had gotten to the point where the two of you were simply roommates and you were completely okay with that.

It had been almost a week since you had seen him anyway.

A quick text was sent to your mom to let her know to expect you around midnight and she quickly responded back in excitement.

The plan was to divorce him by the end of this year because then you would have more than enough money to live off of for the time being once you moved back. Truth be told, you had enough money now, being a CRNA had its perks and it helped that you lived in California which had the highest pay for nurses because of the cost of living. Moving to Louisville would definitely be a pay cut, however you didn't even care. You just wanted to get away from him.

–

When you had finally touched down in Louisville at midnight, you told your mom not to worry about getting you from the airport but she insisted and wouldn't take no for an answer.

Once you slid into the passenger seat of her car after throwing your suitcase in the back, she immediately eyed you which made a sigh escape from your lips.

“Hi to you too, mother.”

“I'm just waiting until the divorce is finalized so that I can throw you a party.” She said while following behind the other cars headed towards the highway.

“By the end of the year. I told you that already.”

“But what are we waiting for? Anything that you need, you know me and your dad will support you until you get settled back here in Louisville. He is a piece of shit and I'm tired of him treating my daughter as if she isn't the best thing to happen to his ungrateful ass.”

“He wasn't always like this.”

“I know because if he was, ain't no way in hell he would have gotten my approval to marry you.” Your mother replied with her voice slightly raised and you simply sighed.

“You deserve so much more and it is hard seeing my youngest child so unhappy all the time. So, I'm just going to say it.”

“MOM!” You replied turning to her with wide eyes because you knew what was going to happen next and what she was going to say because she said it every single time that you talked to her on the phone or facetime.

“Jack wouldn't have treated you like this.”

“Will you ever let that go? We broke up more than 10 years ago! It was a mutual decision!”

“Well it needs to be a mutual decision for yall asses to get back together. Jack is the only son-in-law that I'm going to acknowledge at this point and I am waiting for the proposal. See? It's meant to be. I don't like his wife and I don't like your husband. There, that settles it.”

Any time that someone mentioned Jack, your heart immediately began to race and the butterflies in your stomach increased tenfold.

The two of you decided to end your relationship after dating from your freshman year in high school all the way up until senior year. It wasn't because either of you wanted to, it just was what was best. You were going to nursing school and Jack was trying to become a rapper and get a record deal and move to Atlanta. When you sat down and thought about it, the two of you could have made it work, but the last thing you wanted was for him to feel like he was being held back by you in any shape or form.

You saw how successful he was and was proud of him and never counted him out for a minute despite what people were saying around the two of you.

“Wait, pause. When did he get married?!”

“Talk about a delayed reaction. But it only happened about ten months ago. You and Xavier were umm… starting to have your issues so I didn't mention it. I met her when I went to meet Maggie for lunch and she gave me… What's that word yall use now? The ick. And in not so many words when Maggie and I went to lunch, she told me she didn't like her either and that he should have married you. Jack even LOOKS unhappy. But you didn't hear that from me. Do what you want with that information. I mean you could always go over to Maggie and Brian's. It seems like he's always there and never at home. I wouldn't be at home either with someone like that.”

“Mom! Quit it. I am here to…”

“Get away from your cheating ass husband who is also about to have a baby on you? Go and get the man who has wanted you since you were fourteen.”

All you did was sigh because you knew deep down that your mother was right. But, you still had hesitations in the back of your mind. You highly doubt that Jack still felt the same about you all these years later. Besides, he had a whole wife and you could admit that your mother could be extra dramatic at times, so why would he marry her if he didn't even like her?

“Okay, changing the subject. What do you want to eat when we get home?”

“Mom, it's one in the morning.”

“So? What time do stomachs open?”

–

Later on in the day when you had gotten some much needed sleep, you had a craving for some Italian food and decided to go to a restaurant not too far from your parents’ house and get your order to go. Your all time favorite, Vincenzo's.

In order to make it so no one in your house had to cook dinner, you took it upon yourself to get something for everyone. You had already placed your order and was waiting for it as you were scrolling on your phone, when suddenly you heard someone call your name from behind.

“Y/N?”

Once you looked up and turned around, you came face to face with no one other than Jack's younger brother Clay. Who you hadn't seen since you left Louisville to go to nursing school.

“Well look who it is and who is all grown up. Hi, Clay.” You responded while giving him a hug. You remember him wanting to be just like Jack and would want to follow him around everywhere.

“Just visiting or moving back like your parents want?” He asked and all you could do was roll your eyes because you knew your mom would tell anyone who would listen.

“Oh, so she's literally made it known to everyone that they want me to move back, but just visiting for right now. Had a taste for some Italian so here I am.”

“What are you doing tonight? Are you busy by any chance?” Clay asked, catching you off guard. Your only plans were to drink wine and watch tv until you passed out for exhaustion.

You simply shook your head no towards him.

“Well, it's Jack’s birthday and we’re throwing a surprise party for him and Urban. You should come. I know he would be happy to see you.”

You didn't even realize that it was in fact March 13th.

“Clay, I don't know. We haven't seen each other in over ten years.”

“All the more reason to come. Just…. trust me on this. He would want you there and I won't get knocked upside the head for his gift not being here on time and I'll just say that you're the gift.” All you did was laugh and shake your head.

It wouldn't totally be a bad thing to see him, but what would you say when you did?

The butterflies were erupting in your stomach again and you looked back up at Clay before you talked yourself out of it.

“What time and where is it?”

—

Your older sister, Janelle was currently with you in your childhood bedroom helping you decide what to wear and of course she was picking out the more revealing outfits while you were simply trying to be modest.

“Put them titties on display! Show him what he’s been missing!” She yelled and you simply looked at her and rolled your eyes.

“You are literally the worst and I should have asked Jeremiah.”

“Should have asked me what?” Your older brother and the middle child, Jeremiah asked as he popped his head into your room.

“What the? Since when do you live here?” You asked, confused by his sudden appearance.

“Well damn, I can’t come and see my baby sister when she’s here anymore? And besides, Janelle texted me and said you were going to a certain ex’s birthday party. So, I needed to find out the details and especially when the wedding date is.”

“Because Janelle cannot keep her mouth shut to save her life and yes I am. And wait a minute, WEDDING DATE? You two are just as insane as our mother.”

“She won’t dress slutty though as I’m suggesting.” Janelle said while rolling her eyes at you.

“You want my ass and boobs out like I’m not going to freeze.”

“Hoes don’t get cold.” She fired back, but you quickly gave it right back to her.

“I’m anemic.”

“You know you’ve always been it for him. I mean my baby sister is the shit and he let you get away and is now married to… umm…. Someone that is not on his level.” Jeremiah said as he went over to your vanity to pick out jewelry that you would wear despite you not having an outfit.

Jeremiah was definitely the fashionista out of the three of you and you knew for a fact if he wasn’t an orthopedic surgeon that he would definitely be doing big things in the fashion industry.

“So, all of you have met her?!”

“And it was not a pleasant experience and one that had left a good first impression.”

Janelle got up to rummage through your suitcase and found a black halter top that she paired with tan cargo pants and proceeded to throw your New Balance 550’s at you that matched.

“Here, go put this on. Your boobs are going to be spilling out the top in this.”

“Did I ever tell you two how much you both get on my nerves?”

“All the time, but it’s a good thing that we don’t care. Now it’s time to catch us a man.”

“He’s married.”

“And so are you. And both of you are miserable. Hurry up and make this happen, we have a wedding to plan.”

It was now 8 PM and you were sitting in the passenger’s seat of Clay’s car and the two of you were headed to where the surprise party was going to be held and he noticed how much you kept fidgeting.

“Y/N, it’s going to be fine. I know he misses you even if he doesn’t want to admit it at times. He is always asking our mom if she had talked to your mom lately and always asked how you were doing.”

“Really?”

All Clay did was nod his head as he slowed down to a complete stop at the red light in the intersection.

“Look, I… know he probably doesn’t want you to know this, but I’m telling you anyway.”

“Tell me what?” Now you could feel your heart rate speeding up.

“When he found out that you were married that broke him even though he was trying to put up a front and now he probably won’t admit it if someone asked him. He has never moved on from you.”

“Clay…. He’s married so, obviously he did move on.”

“Hmm, if you could call it that.” He responded while snorting and trying to find a place to park so that the two of you could head inside.

“Wait, what?”

“You know from the start that we were always rooting for you two to be together. Even our parents were.”

“Clay, I did not come here to break up a marriage.”

“I… it’s already broken despite it not even being an entire year yet, but you didn’t hear that from me. But Jack has to see it for himself. Anyway, we’re here. And if nothing else tonight puts a smile on his face, I know you will when he sees you. His wife might show up, she might not… she’s a piece of work.”

“All of you give me entirely too much credit. I am nothing special.”

“Ask Jack if he feels the same way and I guarantee that he’s going to say that you are.”

The two of you walked in and Clay had mentioned that Jack and Urban were going to be there within the next ten minutes and now your butterflies were starting all over again as they erupted once more in your stomach.

When PG saw you, you were placed into bone crushing hugs and it was expressed how much you had been missed around Louisville, especially from Jack and that once he laid eyes on you that it would be a done deal.

Clay told you to hide to the side in the back corner as PG was in front of you so that when Jack walked in, he wouldn’t be able to see you until everyone moved out of the way. He planned on everyone screaming ‘surprise’ when both of them walked in and then telling him that he wanted to start the party off right by showing him a gift that he had been patiently waiting for, and that gift was you.

It was now quiet in the room that the party was taking place and the lights had been shut off and you heard Jack and Urban mumbling to each other while trying to find the light switch. Once they did, everyone screamed ‘surprise!’ and the two of them were all smiles.

This was the first time that you had laid eyes on Jack in person in more than ten years and the butterflies erupted once more. He looked so good and it felt that your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

Clay had walked over towards him to give him a hug and then whispered in his ear and you were assuming that he was telling him about the so-called “gift” and the two of them started to walk towards where you were casually standing behind Ace and 2fo.

“I know that this will probably be your most favorite birthday gift that I’ve ever gotten you.” You heard Clay say and you simply smirked and laughed to yourself.

“Hmm, I’ll be the judge of that.” You heard him answer and it was now go time.

“Okay, Ace and 2fo, move out of the way so that he can see his surprise. I made this happen by the way, just so you know.” Clay said and Jack immediately rolled his eyes before laughing.

Once Ace and 2fo moved, Jack came face to face with you and it seemed to be speechless and it was as if he couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of him.

“Happy thirtieth birthday, Jackman, or should I say Jackson? Did you miss me?”

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow angst #jackman thomas #jackman thomas harlow

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saintmuses · 3 months

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❝𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡❞

Pairing:

Neil Lewis x Jonathan’s Sister!Reader

Summary:

Having a crush on her brother’s best friend who displayed awkward loser vibes did not match the trope of being with a college cheerleader like her, and he did not feel the same way about her or so she thought.

Warning(s): SMUT. Oral (f-receiving). Mutual pining. Minors, dni! Note: the lyric is from Cruel Summer, and I kid you not if you do not realize what the lyric means; to put it in a simple explanation, this fic will say it all.

Word Count: 1.1k

Y/N did not have time for this. She groaned internally as she walked on the sidewalk with a brown backpack slung on her back.

She got called by her annoying brother, Jonathan, who needed her to bring his backpack which he had forgotten when he came over for the weekend.

Her schedule had been filled with cheerleading practice, competitions, and Friday football nights that had been gruesome. On top of that, she took honor classes at college with endless homework. She was surprised she was able to find time to bring Jonathan’s backpack.

Being twenty-one and in her last year of college had opened a lot of opportunities and experiences that she could gather for years to look back on.

She wanted to be a writer. Ever since she was a little girl, she used to write in her little journals until the pen would run out of ink or when there weren't any fresh blank pages for her to fill out. She would write childhood fantasies of how princesses would save themselves. To be their own heroes every now and then.

"Y/N," she heard her brother calling out from the side of the building as she entered Gumshoe Video store. She sighed before sauntering over when she saw Jonathan waving with a grin plastered on his face with someone sitting on the couch next to the one where her brother was sitting on.

She blushed when her eyes landed on the man who was sitting with a plastic disposable cup with dark liquid in it.

She had an enormous crush on Neil Lewis. The owner of the store who happened to be her brother’s best friend but being insecure didn't really allow her to pursue him.

He was a definition of awkward loser type, but he really was a film buff. Classic movies was his turf, and if her friends found out about her crush on an ‘awkward loser’, they would make fun of her for it because liking guys like Neil was an illegal unspoken law in friend groups. Women that he dated never really appreciated him as who he was, but her…oh she would treat him so well. However, she doubted he was into her.

Yes, that would give her a reason to avoid Neil despite Jonathan’s attempt to hang out with her while he was around.

However, this is one time she was not able to avoid him since she did not know he was going to be with Jonathan.

"Hey," she smiled shyly once she was standing in front of them, flushing slightly when she caught his smirk in her peripheral vision. She silently cursed her inner schoolgirl crush.

Her lips curled around his name in an inaudible gasp as she fingered her clit lightly, arching her back in pleasure, the sound emitting from her throat.

It was later that night after she got back from the campus, her parents left her a note saying they were out of the town for the weekend, so she couldn't handle the tension that was thrumming through her body at the sight of Neil earlier.

A foreign finger slid from the bottom of her slit to the bundle of nerves, circling around it in a way that had her arching off the bed.

She then stiffened, consciously knowing that a hand that wasn't hers had sent her into a spin, and her eyes shot open to see blue eyes reflecting hers with the curl of a smirk painted on his lips. He raked his fingers up her dripping slit before he withdrew his hand, reaching for his mouth with his glistened fingers, with eye contact between them causing her to moan.

After sliding his fingers out of his mouth, his lips curled. "Thinking about me, weren't you." He asked rhetorically as he hovered her form.

Her eyes flickered, "Neil." She let out an audible gasp while flushing deeply. Arms raising with intentions of covering herself from him which was halted by his hands.

"Don't" he said softly, letting her wrists go. He then raked his eyes from her face to her breasts, "you're beautiful." He said hungrily.

"How did you get in here?" She frowned, flushing deeply at the lust that was shone in his blue eyes.

He gave her a lazy grin, "Jonathan told me there's a key under the flowerpot." He slowly reached between her thighs, “he wanted me to drop the bike off since he’s going out tonight.” His eyes flickered downward, inhaling the heady scent that was all her. Flames began to lick her spine at his brief action. “I decided to come in here and hang out with you…” he trailed off, licking his lips. “Shockingly, I came into this predicament.”

He then started to move his finger upward until it grazed her clit. Her hips jerked as she bit down her bottom lip to keep the keen noise from escaping her throat.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he whispered, leaning over her before he captured her lips with his.

She moaned into the kiss, closing her eyes. It was filled with ferocious intensity as if he'd been wanting to kiss her. She then felt him parting his lips ever so slightly before his tongue reached to trace her bottom lip.

She gasped into his mouth, allowing his tongue to battle dominance with her tongue. She felt his fingers curling around her kneecaps before sliding downward towards her thighs to pry them apart, then he withdrew from her lips.

She inhaled slowly before exhaling to gain control over her breathing that was disrupted by his passionate kiss. Before she could open her eyes, a gasp tore from her lungs when she felt the heat of his tongue sliding through her slit.

Her eyes immediately trained onto the man whose head is in between the juncture of her thighs, her stomach quivered at the sight. She never had anyone going down on her before, but it felt so good coming from him.

She felt his tongue swirling around her clit before a heavy sensation of pleasure rolled through her body when his lips parted and started sucking lightly between his lips.

A whine tore from her lungs, throwing her head back into the pillow. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her hips arched off the bed, mostly towards his mouth.

"Fuck," she groaned. He slowed down his ministrations before withdrawing from her thighs. "Neil..." she trailed off, opening her eyes.

A grin curled his lips, his eyes were heavily lidded with lust as he stared down at her, "don't worry, baby. We're not done yet."

#neil lewis x reader #cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis x you #neil lewis x y/n #watching the detectives #neil lewis

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star-sparkler · 9 months

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Gathered up a bunch of August and Papatello info dumping I did yesterday on tweeter. Some was in reply to thoughtful or excited insight from others. I just love them so much OTL

👾🦋

Mikey: [googling] Wait Augustine means "great, magnificent"?

Donnie: [without missing a beat] Correct.

Leo: You....you named your daughter GREAT AND MAGNIFICENT...?

Donnie: Is she not?

Raph: I mean she is but-

Leo: You Cloned YOURSELF. And named your clone GREAT AND MAGNIFICENT-

👾🦋

Donnie and the family absolutely stop referring to August as or joking about her being a/the clone when she's still a baby. Once her personality starts to develop it's so clear she's her own person deserving of individual respect so that doesn't belong on the table. Donnie never hides that August was cloned / how she was made (and August takes pride in being cloned from her Papa who she admires and loves so much - NO ONE is smarter than her Papa, thank you VERY much!) but the clone word is Never used to put her down or belittle her or deprive her of full personhood. If anyone did refer to her specifically as Donnie's clone rather than Donnie's daughter it would absolutely be uncomfortable and kind of sting her. In cousin AUs, how August was created might cause her a little insecurity because she was the "unplanned science experiment gone 'wrong'" in her mind when she's feeling down but no one in her family has ever or would ever consider her that. Donnie boasts that she's his greatest creation (Next to Shelldon, obviously - I don't talk about his role as much but he's just as much Donnie's kid as August, he's just older and pretty self-sufficient by the time August shows up). August and Donnie mutually see their papa-daughter connection as a uniquely special one and enjoy/take pride in sharing it with each other. ;w; <3

Oh my gosh Donnie loves his daughter more than he can handle yES. He would be heartbroken if he ever found out she harboured thoughts like that [being a freaky science experiment mistake forced upon him] and likely go overboard doing his best to assure her in every way he can that he chooses her every millisecond of every day. August would get smothered in gifts and surprises and words of affirmation until it became overwhelming and she demanded he stop. But he'd still be extra attentive and aware of it afterwards.

I don't think August being a clone would be common knowledge outside the family - most would likely assume she has a biological second parent - but if for some reason she ever was teased about it and the fam found out there would be some serious glare intimidation and Very Big Words with the perpetrator's parents

👾🦋

It's important to me that August is treated like her own person independent of her family while also being a valued member of it. Of course Donnie is still going to lay down Dad Law but August's feelings and personhood are taken seriously and treated with respect. It likely helps a LOT that August is normally a pretty well-behaved kid but Donnie does an IMMENSE AMOUNT OF RESEARCH on parenting and babies when he decides to keep August and I think, by the time he's an adult, gentle parenting is something he would do well with. Will he still lose his temper or get impatient? Absolutely. But they both do their best to meet each other half way and ALWAYS apologize and address miscommunications or outbursts after they've cooled off. Neither likes being mad at the other. From his experiences with Shelldon, Donnie would know that just yelling at someone "because I said so" doesn't work and only hurts both of them to punish without August Fully Understanding Why she's being told no or being disciplined. I would say he's strict but fair. This gets tricky when she gets up to mischief but he recognizes her acting out is usually out of boredom / lack of stimulation / genuinely not realizing what she’s doing is ‘bad’ rather than maliciousness, and if he's clear in his explanations of why something is inappropriate then August is (usually) very receptive and respectful (unless she sniffs out a flaw in his armor - like their unspoken game of her trying to hack into his lab / certain files and him letting it happen sometimes because it's a good practice and mental challenge for her).

I also rly love August and Donnie bringing out the best in each other, both because of how similar they are AND because of how their differences can sometimes elevate, compliment, and teach each other. ;w; <333 It's not always easy to be a dad or a kid, but there's always, always love, and they actively seek out ways to express that and stay aware of each others' wavelengths even when (ESPECIALLY when) one of them is struggling or they aren't lining up.

I love Donnie having someone he can share his special interests with and who Gets Him and can Relate to how his brain works and struggles and shines. It's definitely such a blessing to have someone like that in your life. ToT

PS - I don’t normally explicitly state it because I worry about not being able to write it well enough but when others clock the neurodivergency in August I just [fist clench, manly tears] I’m rly glad it’s reading. Because writing her that way is definitely intentional.

👾🦋

August gets her own ninpo but it's still a secret right now UwU <3 She WILL however find it difficult to use, yeah. August spends so much time trying to be like her family that she struggles to find Herself amidst powerful giants and that definitely impacts how her ninpo manifests. At first it's unreliable and changes what it is sporadically, refusing to choose what it is. So although she unlocks it much younger than the boys unlocked theirs, she's unable to reliably use it until she's older. To compensate, she spends a lot of time learning how to use different weapons/ninja skills and hand-to-hand combat so she can still be effective even when her ninpo is on the fritz / struggling to find it's own shape. ;v;

Her best not-direct-family buddy is little CJ of the good timeline! They're around the same age and get on thick as thieves. Lots of hockey and junior vigilante-ing and goofing around. Also also->

He would solidly go as "CJ" and is still Casey Sr's son. I imagine him being like kind of a mix of Rise movie Casey Jr. and 2012 Casey when he's older. A little louder and more gremlin than movie CJ cause he didn't grow up in an APOCALYPSE and is fully raised by Casey Sr, but still possessing plenty of the heart and heroics. Timid when he's younger though. Very

Augs: Excuse me, he asked for NO PICKLES

CJ: 🥺[shyly letting August take the lead, holding the hem of his own shirt]

Very old art incoming->

👾🦋

Anyway yeah I love August and Paptello (And CJ!)

#AugustineHamato #I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THEM #WITH THE RIGHT NUDGE I COULD TALK ABOUT THEM FOR HOURS #THIS DOESNT LOOK LIKE MUCH BUT IT’S WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY

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