#please don’t talk to me about how I’m terrible at flirting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

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Tim Bradford x fiancé rookie!fem!reader please? When the reader is a rookie and she pulled over her fiancé. Cute fluff 😂

https://youtube.com/shorts/zGueyvDS8DI?si=NOJ5fjs6HqbNdwYD

I love this! I hope you enjoy!!🤍 Picture from Pinterest

Warnings: fluff, Nyla Harper (this probably doesn't need an explanation). rookie!reader, 1.8k+ words.

Flirting With Cops

“I’m sorry, I don’t- run me through this one more time,” Nyla says, somewhere between exasperated and interested. “You had a secret boyfriend that nobody knew about, and then you just show up with a rock after a weekend off? Secret boyfriend is now secret fiancé?”

“Kinda,” you answer, slowing as you approach an intersection.

“Kinda. Elaborate?” Nyla asks, leaning forward with wide eyes.

“I thought you didn’t like to talk about personal lives in the shop,” you argue.

“I don’t talk about my personal life in the shop. Right now, we’re talking about yours.”

You don’t answer, but Nyla’s eyes remain on you. Sighing, you make a right turn as you decide where to start.

“Secret boyfriend is secret fiancé now, yes,” you begin. “But he’s been secret fiancé for a while. I just forgot to take my ring off this morning. And I mean, I didn’t think it was a problem if I didn’t tell anyone I was seeing-“

“If you told me right now, would I be the first to know?” Nyla interjects.

“No. Grey knows.”

“Grey? Wade Grey? Sergeant Grey, Watch Commander-”

“Yes, that Grey. I needed an afternoon off to deal with some relationship stuff a while back, so I told him.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know how my fiancé would feel about that.”

Nyla sits back, quiet until she says, “He doesn’t get to decide who you tell about your life. How am I supposed to decide if he is good enough for you?”

“I thought TOs thought boots weren’t good enough, shouldn’t that be the other way around?” you joke.

Nyla says your name, and you immediately turn serious.

“Harper, I just- it’s not about him controlling me, and he doesn’t, I promise. I’m just not sure why it’s a problem.”

“Not a problem, just a trust and general welfare thing. I need to know that you’re okay all the time because your personal life impacts your cop life.”

“Got it. I will let you know if anything worth mentioning arises.”

“As your friend though-“

“We’re friends?”

Nyla says your last name, a quick warning. “As your friend, I want to know that he’s good enough for you because it’s what you deserve as a person, regardless of your career. Dating is a- there’s a lot that can and does go wrong in the dating world, but Los Angeles is a different animal. If you’re engaged, I’ll assume you know him well, but if or when you want to trust me with this, I’m here.”

“Thank you, Harper.”

“And tomorrow is plain clothes day, so if you want to talk about him while I’m not here, feel free.”

You chuckle, hitting the sirens and answering, “Yes, ma’am,” before calling in a traffic stop.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey,” Tim greets.

“I’m mad at you,” you reply, closing the door and moving around him.

“I’m sorry. Although I’d like to know what I’m sorry for,” Tim replies, his brows raised.

Setting your bag on the counter, you raise your left hand and look at him.

“I apologize for… proposing?” Tim guesses.

You sigh, dropping your head and your hand in tandem. Tim walks to you, and you let him pull you into a hug, putty in his hands as he holds you close.

“You- you put my ring on this morning before work and I forgot to take it off,” you murmur.

“So, our friends and coworkers know? Is that a problem?”

“Of course not. I’m not ashamed of you or trying to hide this or anything, Tim. I just- Nyla wants to know everything to decide if my fiancé is good enough for me.”

“And what will she find?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” you joke.

“Maybe I’ll tell her that it was a pity proposal. You’re a terrible fiancée.”

“I love you,” you reply, kissing his cheek.

“You’re a terrible fiancée… who doesn’t play fair,” Tim repeats, softening under your hands and kisses.

“What are you doing with your day off tomorrow?” you ask. “I know you miss plain clothes day.”

“I don’t know,” Tim answers, his hands sliding from your waist to the curve of your hip. “Rob a liquor store or something to see if you’re ready to ride alone, I guess.”

“Hmm. I was hoping for a real husband and not a prison husband.”

“Don’t start with me,” Tim warns.

“You brought up the liquor store!”

Tim’s hands tighten gently, his fingers pressing into you. You chuckle, leaning against him again as you sigh.

“You’re just going to sit here and miss me, I knew it,” you say against his shirt.

“You’ve got me figured out. Guess you’re good enough for me at least.”

“You guess?”

Tim doesn’t give you time to finish teasing him, pulling you impossibly closer as he kisses you to silence you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Just remember that I’m not here. Our shift got bumped so we’re working into the night, but don’t let that mess you up. You can do this as long as you remember what you’ve learned and apply it,” Nyla says, buckling her seatbelt.

“Nolan warned me that you were intense, but you’re really nice to me,” you reply.

Nyla doesn’t answer, invisible while you ride alone. Smiling to yourself, you wonder if talking about your fiancé would make her break.

✯✯✯✯✯

Thirty minutes after sunset, you haven’t done much on plain clothes day. Completed a few routine traffic stops, responded to two domestic calls, and narrowly avoided a flat tire, but nothing unusual or extreme. Your shift is nearly over, and while it’s too late to visit Tim, you’re ready to get home and rest before seeing him tomorrow.

Driving through Tim’s neighborhood as you finish your patrol, you hit the sirens when a blue pickup truck runs a stop sign. Nyla exits the shop as you do, standing at the back of the vehicle while you approach the window.

“Good eve-“ you begin, freezing when you see who is sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Can I help you, officer?” Tim asks, failing to hide his smile as he sits back in the seat.

“I, uh… you ran a stop sign.”

“Yeah,” Tim answers. “But, surely, there’s some way you can let me go. Right, officer?”

“It’s frowned upon to flirt with police officers during traffic stops, sir.”

You suddenly remember Nyla is behind you and glance over, unsurprised to find her watching you intently.

“Uh, Harper, would you give a fellow cop a ticket for running a stop sign?” you ask.

“I’m not here,” she reminds you, failing to hide that she wants to know who’s in the truck.

Turning back to Tim, you ask, “License and registration?”

Tim nods, pulling his wallet out and handing it to you. When you open it and have no problem finding both, Nyla begins fidgeting.

“Whose car is this?” you ask quietly.

“Rental. My sister needed help moving something but my power steering’s acting up.”

Nodding, you hand his wallet back.

“I’m going to let you off with a warning, sir, but regardless of whether or not you live here and know how busy the intersection is, you need to stop.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tim replies, brushing his fingers over yours.

He drives away as you and Nyla get back in the shop. Her eyes are on you, but she remains silent. When your watch beeps at the end of your shift, and you’re still two blocks from the station, she breaks.

“Who was that? You were flirting so I thought it was your fiancé or something but then you asked about a fellow cop,” Nyla says quickly, not taking a breath until she’s done.

“You weren’t there,” you argue. “You didn’t see a thing.”

Nyla groans. “I will find out. I know I told you it was your decision to trust me, but I need you to trust me. Please?”

“Maybe tomorrow. When you’re back in the shop with me. By the way, how’d I do?”

“You did great. Until the end. That last traffic stop was iffy but since it was a fellow cop I’ll give you a pass on that one. You did check everything and give a warning, so I can’t really ask for more.”

Sighing, you park in the station lot and turn off the ignition.

“Thanks, Harper. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, you most definitely will.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“This isn’t going to end well for me,” you whisper as you walk into the station.

“It’ll be fine,” Tim promises.

“You don’t have to ride with Harper after she finds out!”

“Hey,” Tim calls, gently hooking his fingers behind your bicep to pull you back to his side. “You will be fine.”

“I know. Thank you.”

A few minutes later, as you enter roll call, Nyla sits on the table in the front row.

“Spill,” she demands.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Angela asks.

“She’s dating a cop. Scratch that- she’s engaged to a cop. Pulled him over last night and got all flirty.”

“No ‘what happens in the shop stays in the shop’?” you ask.

“Nope. Now, do we know him?” Nyla asks.

You nod, and Angela asks, “Have we worked with him often?”

“Yes.”

“Is he in this room?” Nyla asks, looking over her shoulder.

“No.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I was having serious concerns about your taste in men,” Nyla sighs.

“Was he driving his own car last night?” Angela inquires.

“Oh, that’s a good question. I didn’t recognize it,” Nyla adds.

“No, it was a rental,” you explain.

“Just spit it out!” Nyla begs.

“Harper!” Tim yells, stepping inside. “Grey needs to see you.”

“He’s in the room now,” you whisper.

“Timothy Bradford?!” Angela yells.

“What?” Nyla asks, looking back and forth between you quickly.

“Tim and I started dating while I was in the academy, and we got engaged about a month ago,” you state. “And Grey knows because we had to tell him.”

“Wait, so you pulled over your fiancé last night?” Angela smiles at you before looking at Tim. “What did you do?”

“I ran a stop sign. Nothing you haven’t done. Don’t look at me like that Angela.”

“You’re dating a boot, I get to look at you however I want to.”

“So, Harper, is he good enough for me?”

Nyla purses her lips in thought. “Depends. Let me see the ring?”

You laugh, and Tim smiles before exiting the room, glad he can talk about you freely now.

��✯✯✯✯

“Nyla wants to talk to you,” you tell Tim when you pass him coming out of the locker room. “Good luck.”

“Can’t be as bad as what Grey told me,” Tim replies, shrugging.

“What did Grey tell you?”

“Uh- well- I think Nyla needed to see me, so I’ll meet you at the truck in a few minutes,” Tim rambles, avoiding your question.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m glad we told people. Even if we were partially forced to,” you say, leaning your head against Tim’s shoulder.

“You want to show me off? I mean, I understand, but I thought-“ Tim groans when you hit his shoulder.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you. Even though you’re a terrible fiancée.”

“Imagine what a terrible wife I’ll be.”

Tim tugs you closer as he responds, “I do. All the time. Especially when you pulled me over.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie #requests

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

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OP Men Reacting To You Saying a Dirty Pickup Line (NSFW)

Ft. Sanji, Law, Zoro, Ace, Shanks, Luffy

I may make a Part 2

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Sanji: “They Say Kissing is a Love Language…Want to Have a Conversation with Me?”

Cigarette drops quick af

His eyes grew wide and he nearly slapped his self trying to prevent any nose bleeds

Sanji stutters in his movements, should he—?

He didn’t want to have a blood fest and ruin this opportunity but he was taking too long to decide

Now you could just laugh and say just kidding but he actually looked too cute to pass up this chance so you pull him in between your legs on the counter and kiss him

Y’all had a very long and messy conversation

Law: “I Know I’m 5’10, But With You I’d Be at Least 6’5””

“How the hell would you be 6’5”—-“

Squints his eyes at you because clearly you’ve said a riddle and he just don’t get it yet

You sit at his desk just swinging your feet hoping he’d understand, but he just gives you an annoyed look because he can’t figure it out.

“Im talking about your cock—“

“Alright get out.”

Zoro: “The Tongue is The Strongest Muscle in The Body, Wanna Work it Out?”

This mf has no clue what a flirt or a joke is and looks at you like your crazy

“What am I ganna be Doing? Tongue curl ups?”

“I’m flirting you dipshit!”

“You’re fucking terrible at Doing so what the hell does that even mean?!—“

“IT MEANS IMMA KICK YOUR ASS IF YOU KEEP TALKING TO ME LIKE IM CRAZY!”

“YOURE THE ONE ASKING STUPID ASS QUESTIONS—!”

No pussy for Zoro for the next month

Ace “I Just Got Black Bed Sheets Want to Make Them White?”

“How will we—-OHOHOHOOOO!”

He is such a dumbass lmao

He has pink cheeks but he is a giggling mess all day

He ends up repeating the pickup line while you both are alone and damn near has a wheezing fit

“CAN YOU NOT!”

Never again.

Shanks: “Please don’t let this go to your head, but do you want some?”

Well aren’t you adorable..

He chuckles in his drink and sets it down, pulling you close so your ear is by his mouth he whispers

“Remember how you said I should start wearing more jewelry? Well, I’m curious on what would look nicer; your necklace above my face or your anklet on top of my shoulders?”

You in fact did figure out both looked good on him that night

Luffy: “The Only Meat I Want in My Mouth is Yours.”

“I just finished my meat Y/N and I just asked you if you wanted some and you said NO!”

“I—“

Why would you even try to give this man a pickup line it’s already hard enough to date this man

“NOT THAT MEAT YOUR MEAT!”

“I JUST ATE THE MEAT!”

“NO!”

You point at his crotch and he just looks down and then back at you in confusion

“There’s no meat there Y/—“

“NEVERMIND LUFFY!”

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denwritesandcries · 6 months

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Work of Art – Hazel Callahan

Pairing: loser!hazel x artist!reader

Summary: You join a fight club just to spend more time with your pretty friend, Hazel Callahan. The fact that you're running out of time to finish an art project is just a detail.

Word count: 3,5k.

Content: loser!hazel trying to be smooth, sylvie being a chaotic ala, cursing, flirting, mutual pining, friends to lovers, my questionable comedy, a little blood at the start, reader is a SIMP.

A/N: This came up to me after the ‘these girls are ugly’ scene and I had to make a dramatic story about it. I'm so soft for this character, I just wanna hold her and tell her how beautiful she is.

English is not my first language.

There's a sketchbook opened on your lap, a coal pencil on your hand and a fight happening in front of you.

Technically, that's what you were supposed to be doing too – fighting with someone – it was fight club, after all. Instead, you were sitting against a wall, hastily trying to finish a sketch for your art club project.

In your defense, you weren't even going to join this self-defense club in the first place, having been quite happy just occupying yourself with your art club after school, but your friend Sylvie came up to you one day completely excited about the idea, saying that she really wanted to participate, but that to keep going they needed more members and there enters you.

You said no right away, claiming that you would end up getting overwhelmed trying to balance both clubs with all the meetings, but Sylvie could be so convincing – more like insistent – with her methods, even shouting "PLEASE COME!" in a hallway full of people during classes, that you ended up giving in to when it became too embarrassing. Therefore, you agreed to go to a meeting without the promise of staying.

You regretted that decision and swore to burn Sylvie’s stupid beanie in the first punch that hitted you. You were terrible at fighting.

After being beaten up by a girl you didn't even know the name of, you ended up with a split lip and a bruise forming on your cheek and were ready to go find your friend and gently let her down by telling her that this really wasn't your thing, that is until Hazel Callahan approaches you.

Hazel. The same Hazel who sat three seats away from you in history class for four years, with whom you usually paired up during assignments but didn't talk much. The same Hazel who is standing in front of you with a weird smile and a washcloth in her hand.

“Uh…” you start, not quite sure what to say, “Do you need anything?”

"Oh!" She seems to realize that she's been silent and staring at you for too long, shaking her head, "No, not really, but you looked like you needed it," Hazel holds out the washcloth to you.

You notice that she's doing her best to look casual, shrugging her shoulders with fake indifference and pointing to your bleeding lip with the hand holding the cloth while the other is stuffed into the pocket of her baggy, ripped jeans. The sight is so captivating that it makes you smile even when you don’t want to, with the sudden feeling that you two should interact more.

“Oh, what a gentleman," you joke when you accept and take the cloth from her hand and are happy with the fact that the fabric is dark when your blood stains it, "You came to comfort me after spending all this time watching my ass being kicked?"

Her eyes widened in panic and Hazel squealed like an alarmed puppy, "No!" She exclaims, "I didn't mean that, really. It's just that you seemed upset and I–"

“Haze, it’s okay,” you interrupt and reassure her with a gentle hand on her arm, “I’m just messing with you.”

She shakes her head, still in denial, her face red: "But you weren't that bad."

You snort, any trace of upset seeming to leave your body, “But it was bad.”

Hazel looks away from you while playing with the rings on one of her hands, she seems to want to tell you something, so you wait in silence until she has the courage.

"So…" she starts, "Are you staying? At the club, I mean."

'No,' you want to say, 'This place is completely chaotic, I have other things I'd like to do and I bet I'll get my ass kicked every time I go up against someone here.' But Hazel is looking at you with her head cocked to the side and bright, hopeful blue eyes and what kind of monster would you be to deny something and wipe that look off her face?

“Maybe.” you answer instead, an uncertain smile on your face, “I’m still thinking about it.”

That seems to be enough to satisfy her and you quickly turn around, putting the bloodstained cloth inside your backpack and packing your things to leave when you realize that you two were the only ones left in the place.

"Walk with me?" You nod towards the exit for Hazel to follow you and she does so shyly.

As you walk around the school grounds your bodies are close enough that your shoulders touch as you walk and the interaction brings you a surprising amount of comfort.

"You know," Hazel starts again, her voice at a high pitch, she clears her throat with a fist against her mouth before continuing, "You don't have to if you don't want to, but uh–" Hazel stutters, face red again, "It would be really nice if you stayed.”

You turn your head to look at her side face, her nervous attitude warming your heart in a jarring way and you suddenly wonder why you and Hazel have never been closer before, even though you've technically known each other for so many years. It seemed almost unfair to be deprived of her company for so long.

“This fighting thing really isn’t for me,” you shrugged and continued before a look of disappointment could wash over her, “But I think people make it worth coming back for.”

You hoped she would notice the flirting tone in your words; Hazel could be terrible at reading between the lines.

"Oh, you're right!" She replied with an excited smile, "I managed to make a lot of friends there since it started, maybe you can too!”

You raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for Hazel to realize what she said just to tease her, and she did, panicking.

"I didn't mean that you don't have friends!" She shouted with a wave of her arms, "I just– I just–"

Hazel's calm facade falls completely and you feel a laugh grow in your chest as you laugh openly. She takes a moment to compose herself before relaxing a little when she sees that you're not bothered.

"Okay, got it." you say with a final giggle, "Don't worry, I'll show up since it would be so nice if I stayed."

Sure, she may not have understood your flirting the first time, but her red face up to her ears and shy gaze stuck on the floor could only be an indication that she had now caught on.

When you reach the point where your paths part, you can't resist talking to Hazel one last time:

"Haze," You call in a relaxed tone as she heads to her car, "Is that really a women's empowerment club?"

Hazel smiles as she opens the door, without any nervousness this time, "I have no idea, but I like it."

You think you might like it too if you were going to see her like this more often.

When you get home that day, with your untouched art supplies weighing down your backpack, there's a message on your phone left from Sylvie. That little bastard had left without you even noticing.

slaygirl:

hey what u throught about the club

*thouth

sHIT

*thought

runned right home when I saw your mad face lol

You snorted with a roll of eyes. You had already made the decision anyway, there was no point in actually being mad at her.

you:

well I guess is not THAT bad

I'll make the sacrifice and participate

slaygirl:

HELL YEAH LET'S GOOO

told u would like it

You ask yourself one last time if you should really do this or not; the times between the fight club and art club meetings were so close together, it could easily turn into a mess. Then you think about Hazel and the way she seemed enchanted by the idea of you being there.

Fuck it, you thought, you can handle both.

You couldn't handle both. That was why you found yourself against that wall now, running out of time and without the proper sketches you were supposed to present later.

It was a relatively simple exercise that you had to do: draw everyday landscapes in charcoal pencil by sight. The problem is that you didn't have time to draw the requested amount and you haven't had much inspiration other than classrooms and parts of the school lately.

Luckily, no one really minded when you decided to opt to just be a spectator today; PJ and Josie being too busy flirting with Brittany and Isabel and Sylvie being just excited about getting into a fight with someone.

"And what are you doing there?" Hazel's voice scares you as she sits down next to you with a curious look and a small smile at the sound of your surprised squeak.

You had no idea where she had come from, having quickly talked to her as soon as you arrived and then gone straight to your task, but you were very happy to have her there now. You've been getting closer over the last few weeks since joining the club, just as you wanted, which has made all of your juggling between tasks totally worth it.

"Shouldn't you be beating up someone?" You dodged the question, giving her a look of fake reprimand.

She scoffed with a hand gesture, "I'll be right there, I just passed by to check on you," She pointed with her chin to the notebook with you, "So?”

You shrug, "Just trying to finish this project, but nothing seems to make me want to draw." You turn the sketchbook so Hazel can see the simple outline of the open area in which you practice defense, your hands are stained with coal pencil and the sheet is messy with outlines of bodies overlapping the paper.

For the confused look on her face and the slight tilt of her head, you can tell Hazel doesn't quite understand what you mean, but she gives you a reassuring smile anyway.

"You're talented, I'm sure you'll figure that out soon."

You feel a stupid smile growing on your face and you can't help the way your voice softens, "Thanks, Haze."

She returns your smile for a moment, but quickly looks away, seeming to want to break off the interaction.

Hazel breaks the silence that suddenly settles in: “Will you teach me?”, she asks.

You look at her confused, “What? Drawing?”

“Hm-hm,” She nods with a pout, “I always see you drawing during class and I'm terrible at it.”

You find her extremely captivating.

“Okay,” you snort, “I’ll give you drawing lessons if you give me fighting lessons. You’re better at this than me, than everyone here, actually.”

And then she gets nervous again, cheeks colored a soft red, stammering, “Oh– I– hm, alright.”

You think maybe she's going to say something more, but Hazel gets up and shakes her head like a puppy and your heart warms, before saying goodbye, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder and running off to find a partner for the day's exercises.

A sigh leaves your chest as your gaze follows her as she walks, deciding to watch a little until you get the courage to finish your work.

Hazel is paired with a girl you had never spoken to but who you were sure was in your English class. A very pretty girl, by the way. It annoyed you how close they were and the way Hazel touched the girl so she could fix her position before they started fighting, the same way she did to you when you asked for help with your movements the other day; and it annoyed you even more the way the girl seemed to lean into her touch, exactly like you did on the few occasions when Hazel touched you for more than a few seconds.

Damn, you wish you knew the girl's name so you could actually get mad.

Your stomach turned uncomfortably the more you watched the duo, didn't that girl know that Hazel is... what? Your girlfriend? Your friend who you flirt with? This was practically the same as nothing. You had nothing. You couldn't be mad.

But man, you are annoyed.

With a shake of your head, you look away from the scene and open your sketchbook again, this time to a clean page. Better get back to work.

When you look up again, Hazel has the girl trapped in her arms. The way her best features are marked is unfairly hot, your silly jealousy ends up forgotten in favor of admiring how beautiful she is.

Unconsciously, you begin to trace the outline of her strong jaw onto the paper, letting the simple body outline you had begun take shape.

To you, Hazel was a work of art in every sense of the word, from her appearance to her most unusual mannerisms. Everything about her seemed to scream art and drawing her was an extremely satisfying action. It wasn't even the first time you had portrayed her, having made small sketches during the times you worked together in class and given them all to her – you wish you had kept at least one now –, maybe that's why she asked you for lessons anyway.

Either way, anything involving Hazel is more interesting than your original project.

You notice the way her hair falls over her face, the dark color contrasting with her big blue eyes, and you think it's a shame you didn't bring any supplies you could use to color them. There is a small cut where a yellowish bruise is on her cheek; Hazel seemed to always be recovering from some injury, even though she was the one who won most of the fights, not that you would count – liar, you did.

You draw the outline of her nose and lips with the practiced precision of someone who has done this many times before; she's wearing a dark green button-down shirt, one of your favorites on her, along with baggy black jeans and an old pair of vans; her hands are missing their usual rings and there are little green dinosaurs in her socks.

You won't add all of it, of course, it's not a full body drawing, but you can't help but notice every little detail about her.

Time passes without you noticing, your project remains completely forgotten while you draw Hazel from memory, no longer needing to turn to the annoying vision of her and the other girl. When the meeting is almost finished, Sylvie approaches you smiling and looks over your shoulder.

"Dude!" She exclaims in a knowing tone, “So that’s why you actually agreed to join the club!”

“Shh girl, do you want everyone here to know!?” You whisper-shouting and quickly pull the beanie she was wearing over her nose tightly, ignoring the chocked ‘fucking rude’ that Sylvie lets out.

“You should tell her,” Sylvie declares, because of course she would understand right away that you have a crush.

“What?" You ask, alarmed, “Like right now?”

"Yeah!" She pushes your shoulder in encouragement, “The day is almost over, it’s not like we have anything else to do anyway.” Sylvie shrugged, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“I can’t just go there and tell.” You mumble, “And I have things to do.”

“Oh, come on! I’m sure she likes you back!”

“And how can you know that?” You asked.

“How come you don’t know that?” Sylvie replied, “It’s kinda obvious.”

“Okay, whatever you say, but I’m not going to tell her anything now.” You insist stubbornly.

Sylvie looks like she's about to say something else, but a tricksy smile forms on her face when she sees someone approaching.

"Tell what?" Hazel's voice coming from nearby startles you and when you turn your face to find her, she's alone, no sign of the other girl in sight.

You were about to stutter something in response – and most likely make a fool of yourself – but Sylvie was quicker.

“Oh!” Your friend exclaims in false innocence, “I was trying to convince her to show you her drawing, but she’s such a perfectionist.”

You elbow her in panic and Sylvie lightly tugs at your hair as she stands up; you don't notice the dirty look Hazel gives to the interaction, wringing her hands in her pockets.

Sylvie walks away arching her eyebrows in a suggestive expression at you and your cheeks burn at the implication as Hazel takes her place beside you.

“So…” she begins, her voice strangely tense, “Did you finish what you were drawing? Can I see it?"

“Well…” You feel nervous, there’s no way to get out of this without making her sad and that’s the last thing you would want to do. Taking a deep breath, you decide to go ahead: “Inspiration came to and I drew something, but it’s not for my project, I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

"Yes, I will!" Hazel adjusts herself excitedly, your knees touching, “Can I see it?” she repeats.

You gulp and nod, turning the sketchbook towards her. Hazel lens even closer to you to see the result, her chin brushing your shoulder and a hand running up your back and resting there, surprising you, you feel the coldness of her hand and the outline of her rings – when she did put them back? – through the fabric of your t-shirt.

You feel the moment Hazel registers the drawing on the sheet and her breath hitches, the action sending a shiver up your spine.

"Then?" You ask nervously, “What do you think?”

But Hazel remains silent. When you turn to look at her, her jaw is dropped in complete disbelief and a deep blush covers her face from her cheeks to her ears.

“Haze?” You call, unsure.

“That’s– it’s beautiful.” She stutters, one hand delicately touches the paper, coal staining her fingers, “It’s me. It’s me… beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” you correct without hesitation and Hazel’s gaze turns to you, “That’s nothing compared to you.”

She hesitates for a moment, “Why did you do that?”

"Why?" You echo, “You know why.”

And Hazel knows. You know she knows. There hasn't been a single day that the two of you haven't flirted, that there hasn't been this tension between you. There's no way she doesn't know, but someone needs to admit it.

She looks at you expectantly, the same lovely hope as before is back in her eyes, and again, who are you to take that look off her face?

You sigh, “I have a crush on you, Haze.”

She snorts, voice shaking in a confident attempt of a joke: “I know.”

You raise an eyebrow and give her an unimpressed look and Hazel immediately backtracks.

"Sorry! Sorry!" She exclaims, “I just– I like you too, a lot.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips when you put the notebook and pencil aside to look at her fully and your faces are so close that you would only have to lean in for your lips to touch. God, you've never wanted something so much before.

You notice every little detail of her face; a fallen eyelash on her cheek, the faint marks of dark circles over her eyes, freckles over her nose that you had never gotten close enough before to see.

Hazel looks at you like she can't believe what's happening and honestly, neither can you.

“Please,” she whispers, eyes locked on your lips.

Hazel Callahan was the most beautiful work of art you had ever seen and as an artist, you know you should never touch artworks, but Hazel asks you and you could never deny her anything.

Your lips meet and it's softer than you thought it could be – even though you've thought about it many times then – and your hands rest on her cheeks like they belong there, she lets out a sigh of contentment that warms your heart.

When you pull away, there's a coal stain on Hazel's face from where your hand was before and her pupils are dilated like dark pits, it's unfair the way it makes your heart skip a beat.

She kisses you again, shorter this time and you would have chased her lips if it weren't for someone's voice scaring you:

“ATTA GIRL, I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!” Sylvie is on the other side of the gym, cheering and pointing at you.

You had completely forgotten that the meeting wasn't over yet.

“Dude,” PJ starts on the other side, “When did this happend?”

“You know this is a public space right?” Josie asks with a hand on her hip, “Don’t make out here, man.”

You shake your head in amusement and start to gather your things, “Okay, okay,” you say, “Let’s make out somewhere else then, come on Haze.”

Hazel seems too flustreaded to speak and doesn't argue as you take her hand and pull her along as you leave to the sounds of your friends cheering and joking.

“Where are we going?” She asks, you’re still holding hands.

You shrug innocently, “I promised you drawing lessons, didn’t I?”

In the end you don't show up at the art club that day, too busy spending time with your newest girlfriend and it's totally worth it.

#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan imagine #denwrites

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hellishjoel · 6 months

Text

delicate - chapter one: someone new

3.4k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

summary: Sarah decides it’s time for her dad to start dating again. Joel isn’t sure he needs to, but decides if it’s for Sarah, he’s willing to give it a go. After a few failed attempts, he finally stumbles across someone new.

A/N: This is the first chapter of a new fic co-written with @thetriumphantpanda - we’re both so excited for you all to finally read what we’ve been working on. You’ll be able to find the masterlist on both of our Tumblrs, and we’ll be taking turns in posting chapters, so if you want to keep up to date with posting, please make sure you’re following us both!

warnings: Joel being terrible at dating apps, mentions of being a single parent, flirting, rom-com vibes, allusions to more mature themes but nothing explicit as of now, foul language, mentions of food & alcohol, Sarah & Tommy being menaces.

“Dad, have you thought about settling down soon?”

Joel had nearly just sat down at the dining table, a warm bowl of chili stinging his hands as he set down a glass of water with a quiet huff.

“Am settled down.” He grumbled, diving straight into the warm bowl with ferocity.

Sarah sighed quietly and circled her fingertip over the rim of her water glass.

“I mean,” she tries again, “settled down with someone.”

Sarah knows this is a weird topic to bring up over dinner. She can see it in the way her father stops chewing on his food, his water glass halfway to his lips now frozen midair.

Since she was a small girl, her father’s world revolved around her. She put the sun in the sky and the smiles on his face. He put her through years of soccer practice and clarinet lessons, drove her across the state for tournaments, and made her favorite dinner when it was her birthday. She was his little girl.

Sarah knew she had a very loving father, always lucky in that regard, but that love felt a little lost when she started attending university. All she could think about was leaving her dad in an empty house with no one to cook for, no one to bug about cleaning their room. He didn’t have anyone besides Uncle Tommy. And Sarah was sure that was the last person he wanted to spend his free time with.

Fresh from graduating with a bachelor’s degree in biology from Texas State University, Sarah opted to live at home for a year in the hopes of saving up money for med school. And perhaps she could complete the side quest of finding a potential date for her dad.

Joel clears his throat and wipes his hand on a paper towel, smearing it a reddish-orange from the chili.

“Don’t need anyone else when I’ve got you, peanut.” He gave a lopsided smile and continued eating.

Why would she ask something like that? Why was she thinking about finding someone for him?

Joel thought of himself as an independent man. Never went looking for love, going on about his business, so why start now?

Sarah looked unsure of what to say next, wanting to push the conversation and letting that uncertainty fill the air between them.

Joel sighs, his spoon sputtering in the bowl and listening to it clang around the rim.

“You don’t gotta worry about me, kid. I’m fine on my own.” He insisted, shrugging casually.

“Uncle Tommy and I were talking about you, more specifically about you dating-”

Joel buried his face in his hands, letting out a loud, exasperated sigh as he ran his hands down his face, calloused palms scraping against beard stubble.

“Sarah, what did I tell you about talkin’ to Uncle Tommy? Take nothin’a substance from those conversations.”

“Dad, please.” His little girl was frowning now, desperate puppy dog eyes searching his own. “How bad would it be if Uncle Tommy and I put you on a few dating apps, y’know? You could meet a nice woman, take her out for dinner, do whatever you want, but you can’t not try anymore.”

Joel snuffed out a scoff, quickly dialing it down once he was receiving daggers.

“Peanut, ya just… you get to a certain age where you give up on that type of stuff. Love n’all. M’an old dog, been outta the game for too long.” Joel returned to his dinner, thinking the conversation was done and over with.

Sarah let out a heavy breath through her nostrils and crossed her arms. “Dad, we’re finding you someone, or at least we’re going to try. You can’t just-just shrug off your feelings!”

Sarah’s chair scraped backward, standing up suddenly and commandeering the room.

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. What happened with Mom was a long time ago. You can’t shut off trying to find love. I saw you go on two dates when I was growing up. Two! You can’t say you’ve tried, you can’t say you don’t want it, everyone wants to find their special someone. And you,” she said with wide, frantic eyes. “You are not done trying. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Joel sat in silence as Sarah retrieved her bowl of chili and glass of water, fleeing up the stairs to her room. He sat back in his chair, shifting his jaw from side to side in thought.

Guilt festered in his chest. Seeing Sarah so adamant about something like his love life was telling it was something she thought a fair amount about. She worried about his happiness, his life alone.

Though he thought a life of solitude worked well for him, he couldn’t deny that small part of him that wished he had someone to share the little moments with. Sarah wouldn’t be living at home forever, and she would never be replaced in Joel’s heart, but maybe she was right that it was time for him to start trying again.

“Okay, so I downloaded Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, eHarmony, and Farmer’s Only.”

Sarah paraded around Joel’s smartphone, downloading different online dating apps left and right while he watched helplessly beside her on the couch. He could feel a headache spark in his temple already.

“M’not a farmer.”

Sarah simply shrugged and opened up the first app, Tinder. “True, but we’re trying to keep our options open.”

Joel sighed and leaned back into the couch cushions, hearing the front door open without a knock. His brother, Tommy, paraded inside, a six-pack of beer in his hand and a jean jacket in the other.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Joel asked as he saddled his hands on his knees and pushed himself off the couch, eyes narrowed on his younger brother.

“What? You think I would miss Sarah putting you up for auction?”

“Hey,” Sarah said defensively, disliking that her Uncle Tommy was making fun of her genuine attempt to find Joel a woman. “Don’t make him feel bad. It took several hours of convincing just to get him to hand me his phone.”

Tommy sneered and plopped down into Joel’s recliner, cracking open a beer despite it only being late afternoon. Hell, he might need one too.

“Okay, Dad, focus. We need to fill out some of the Tinder prompts.” Sarah patted the section of the couch beside hers, Joel joining her after a few grumbles of resistance.

“Prompts? What sorta prompts?” He asked, craning his neck to look at the phone screen she held up in her hands.

“Prompts to get to know you better. You know, like, what are your likes and dislikes, what are you looking for in a relationship, where would you want to take someone for a first date,” Sarah continued the list until Tommy’s chuckle broke her concentration.

“Ain’t Tinder for hookin’ up with chicks?” Tommy asked, making Joel’s head snap to Sarah.

“Sarah, the hell are you doin’ to me?”

“It’s not just for hookups, dad-”

“Yes, it is.” Tommy snicked, making Sarah glare at him.

“C’mon, we’re trying everything to see what sticks.”

Joel felt rather hopeless about the whole ordeal. They added pictures, and Sarah crafted answers for his prompts. He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing with the whole left, right, swiping action. At one point, he expanded the age search by accident and didn’t realize it the next morning until he got a very forward message from a young woman.

Hey, good looking ;) you look like a big man in more ways than one, if you catch what I mean… how about you come over to mine and show me a good time, I bet we can make it fit if we try hard enough.

Joel storms into the kitchen, shoving his phone at Sarah’s face, “Take that damn app off,” He demands, “It ain’t for me.”

“What did she say to you?” Sarah snorts, taking the phone from him, Joel watching as she holds her finger on the icon until it wobbles.

“That ain’t for you to know,” Joel shakes his head, “Just delete the damn thing off my phone.”

He watches as Sarah presses the cross in the corner of the icon, making a mental note of how he can delete the rest of them later when she’s not watching, she hands his phone back to him, taking a sip of orange juice, whilst he pockets the phone.

Despite his first attempt at dating apps failing horribly, he was intrigued. A lot of the women out there were beautiful, some with children of their own from past relationships just like him.

Joel was trying to watch the first Dallas Cowboys pre-season game with Sarah when his phone buzzed with a notification. It was just one of those that stated he had potential matches out there on Bumble.

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, flicked his eyes up to the television screen, and clocked he wasn’t missing anything before he opened his phone.

A few profiles later, he landed on a woman he found with a nice smile. He read through her profile, even letting out a quiet chuckle.

Sarah’s eyebrows were drawn together with curiosity, watching her father smile goofily at his phone.

“What’s goin’ on with you? You’re scaring me.” She teased as she pushed herself off the couch and leaned over his shoulder to see he was actually on one of the dating apps. A small sense of pride filled her.

“I like ‘er. Got a nice smile, funny too.” Joel affirmed with a nod. He swiped like he was directed to, but then there was nothing.

His face fell, smile and happiness swirling down the drain as he grew frustrated.

“How the hell do I message ‘er?” He asked, neck craning as he held up his phone to Sarah, his silent way of asking for support.

“You can’t message women first on Bumble. They have to like you back and message you first.” Sarah said with a shrug, snagging her dad’s beer from his hand and taking a quick swig.

Joel was only scowling in disappointment and frustration. “Y’mean, I can’t even talk to ‘er? I can’t be a proper gentleman and make the first goddamn move?”

He grunted in annoyance, swiped back his beer, and threw up the glass bottle to drain the last of its contents as he deleted the app. “Sick of these damn datin’ apps already. None of them are worth a damn.”

Sarah sighed quietly and found her way back to the couch, nervousness settling inside of her. He wasn’t a very disagreeable person, in fact, her dad was neutral about a lot of things. What did he want to have for dinner tonight? Anything was fine. Which movie did he want to watch? He didn’t care, said she could pick. So why was he finding so many excuses with the apps? Not even the women, but the apps.

Part of her thought about him trying to find a woman the old-school way, but he was maybe too out of the game to brush up a conversation with a random stranger. He might fail miserably, but maybe it would help with his confidence. He only had a few apps left, ticking off one by one.

Joel stared at the ceiling, encapsulated by the slow-circling fan overhead. Darkness laid a dark veil over his bedroom, a sliver of moonlight being cast through the window. His head laid back into the pillows, jaw ticking from side to side as he lay wide awake. He lightly scratched his chest, feeling the dark hair that clustered at his sternum as his head rolled to the side and read the digital numbers on his clock.

Another sigh left his parted lips. It was late, far too late for someone who worked the early mornings to be awake. At least tomorrow as Friday.

His phone vibrated gently on his nightstand, a little chime he wasn’t accustomed to. He plucked his phone from the charger and squinted at its brightness, sitting up on his forearm to read the text. It was a message from a woman on Hinge. They had matched.

Joel grunted and stared blankly at his lock screen until it went black with inactivity. No. Just go to sleep, Joel. Forget about it. He set his phone on the bed and laid on his side, digging his cheek into a pillow and forcing his eyes closed. Well, what was she doing awake at this hour?

He opens his phone, clicking on the ‘H’ icon with its tiny red notification dot. He pays no mind to reading the message yet, instead clicking onto the mystery womans profile. The first picture is one of her wrapped up in a big coat, plaid scarf wrapped around her neck with a bobble hat and something warm clasped in her hands - it looks like she’s in a big city from what he can tell from the blurry background behind her, but he notices how happy she looks - big grin plastered on her face that reaches all the way to her eyes.

Scrolling further down her profile, he finds the first prompt ‘Best Travel Story’ - her answer reading about a time she’d been hiking with her family. She likes the outdoors Joel thinks - something he and Sarah also enjoy, but he shakes his head before he thinks too much about a third person he can take hiking. There’s another photo then, clearly taken in the summer - she’s in a lovely dress, sitting at a table with a young boy on her lap, perhaps a nephew? He tries not to imagine that he’s stumbled across another single parent, what good luck that would be.

Joel doesn’t make it much further down her profile - just to the section with all of her basic information. She’s around his age, shorter than him but not by much, she’s got a yes next to drinking, but a no to smoking and drugs, and she works in marketing. A steady job, he thinks. He’s praying, silently, that when he clicks back to her message, she’s sane.

Good evening Joel! Sorry for such a late message, I’m a slight insomniac. I love your profile, you seem lovely! How are you doing this evening? (Or this morning depending on when you read this!)

The corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile. A slight insomniac who thought he was quite lovely. Her words, not his. Maybe asking Sarah for help on his profile wasn’t such a bad idea. His fingers twitched above the keyboard, but he was unsure of what to say next.

Joel sat up in bed, about to shove the covers off his lap and ask Sarah for help, when he took another look at his digital clock. It’s too late to wake her, he thinks. He’ll have to craft a response on his own. He dreads it, words never really being his strong suit. Would he look creepy if he replied this late back?

Looks like we’re both slight insomniacs. Besides being unable to fall asleep, my evening was fine. How are you doing tonight, ma’am?

Joel sighed and stared at his response, picking it apart and cursing under his breath. Now, he was wide awake.

Ma’am? Way to make me feel 101… charming though, I like it ;) I’m doing okay, thank you. Just enjoying the only peace and quiet I get before I go to sleep. What’s keeping you up then, Joel?

Joel’s face crumpled, pushing a hand through his hair after reading his response over and over again. He meant it in a gentlemanly way, not to make her feel old. He really screwed the pooch on that one. Nipping at his lower lip, he tried again.

No offense intended ma’am, I’m just a Southern man is all. Don’t mind about what’s keeping me up, I want to know about you. You don’t get much peace and quiet until midnight? How’s that?

None taken, just not used to someone being a gentleman on these things - normally at this point someone would be asking for a picture of my tits so you’re doing well so far. It’s usually my son that keeps me up, he’s been asleep a while but I only get so much time to clear up after him, so midnight is me time once that’s all done. You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s keeping you awake?

Joel’s smile only grew larger as she responded, and rather quickly, too. He imagined they looked quite similar right now. Different towns, different houses, both curled up in bed and staring at their phones, waiting for the other to reply. He wondered if she was smiling like he was, trying to push away an undeniable flutter in his stomach. Making him feel like a damn teenager.

His face softened at her response. My son, she said. That boy on her profile, with chubby cheeks and a toothy smile, a head full of hair, and glee all over his face, was her son. She was a mother, just like he was a father. He wondered if she saw the young woman in his pictures and knew that was his daughter, Sarah. How could he subtly drop the hint?

Those aren’t gentlemen, just boys. Sorry to hear they were wasting your time. I understand your limited personal time. When my daughter Sarah was young, my alone time consisted of sitting in the truck during her soccer practices and after she went to bed. It’s not easy. What’s keeping me up is partially Sarah’s fault. She’s the one who urged me onto Hinge. I don’t really know what I’m doing, to be honest. Just know a pretty flower when I see one.

Is Sarah the young girl on your profile? She’s beautiful if so, you must be so proud of how she’s grown up. Well Joel, you don’t seem clueless, you’re keeping my attention pretty well, especially calling me pretty, I might be blushing. What made her decide now was the time for you to start dating?

He’d never admit it if anyone asked. But it looked like he still had that Southern charm, you never really grow out of it. He reached over and plucked the string to his lamp, sitting up against his bedframe and sipping on a glass of water as he read over her reply again and again. He had a fondness for the way she complimented his baby girl. She got extra points for that.

Yep, that’s my Sarah. She’s going to med school next year, couldn’t be prouder. I suppose she graduated from college and thinks she knows everything now. Thinks I need a love life. I think she’s felt this way for a while, but she knows I’m stubborn. What’s your son’s name? Looks like a good kid.

Smart and beautiful, you must have very good genes Joel. That’s incredible though, I can imagine how proud you are of her. Well, I for one am pleased she’s pushed you here, you seem a really nice guy Joel. My son is Noah, he’s seven so full of beans, I’ve never known anyone have so much damn energy!

And you seem like a real nice woman, ma’am. Sarah had so much energy at seven, that’s when I put her in soccer to run all that damn energy out of her.

His fingers hesitated, typing out the message but not quite pressing send. He liked her. He liked how sweet and funny she was. Plus, she understood what it was like to have a kid, someone who would always be put first.

Since it’s technically 12:57, are you doing anything tonight? Is having a drink okay for a slight insomniac?

Well, thank you very much Joel. I have a feeling Noah and Sarah would have gotten along well if they were the same age, he’s just started soccer practice for that very reason. And, lucky for you, Noah has an evening with his grandparents tonight, so a drink sounds lovely. Just let me know a time and a place.

His heart was thumping in his chest, a tired little grin on his face as he offered to take her to The Aristocrat Lounge on the North side of Austin. They settled on seven, enough time for Joel to get home, shower, and convince Sarah to help clean him up a bit. A daunting feeling pressed into his chest, making his breath snag tight in his lungs. He was nervous, those strange butterflies still fussing around. He shoved them down, persistent on ignoring the feeling.

It’s a date. Try to get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, ma’am.

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badasgirl · 7 months

Text

head over heels

bada lee x fem!reader

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a late night studio session turns into something more when bada finally decides it’s time to end whatever tension you both shared.

genre: friends (?) to kinda lovers, smut, slight angst if you kinda like squint, slight fluff

warnings: this specific work is 18+, so ageless blogs/underaged blogs who interact will be blocked, built up tension, reader is shorter than bada, no caps on purpose (booo ik terrible grammar).

word count: ~3.3k

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smut warnings: slight dom!bada x sub!reader, making out, hickies, fingering, scissoring (?), messy lesbian sex, slightttt choking but barely

author’s note: this was not proofread and it’s my first smut in years so be easy on me plz. but yayy another req done, thank you to anon for this request!! reqs are still open, but please be patient 🎀.

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you and bada both dance and teach at the same dance studio, justjerk. you’ve known each other for a couple years now and since the day you’ve met her, there’s been an undeniable tension. you both would throw glances at each other when you passed each other throughout the studio, every time you talked there were flirtatious remarks hinting to both of you wanting the other, there were even lasting touches between the two of you when you did a collab class. this had gone on for so long it became natural for you both to teeter on the line of excessive flirting to more, so who was going to cross it first?

tonight you decided that you wanted to get some extra practice in before your class the following day, especially because it was your first time teaching a heels dance class. you were experienced in dancing in heels, but you had never taught it before. you just wanted everything to be perfect for the first time. however, you were not the only one getting in a late night practice session.

bada was finishing up her usual weekly late night practice and was about to leave the building, when she saw you. she saw you dancing through the studio door and god did you look so alluring. the way you danced had bada in a deep trance. she knew that you danced in heels, but she’s actually never seen it herself. after seeing how you moved plus all the years of built up tension, she knew exactly what she had to do.

you were finishing up one of your best runs of the section you were teaching when you heard the door open. you spot the tall girl you were infatuated with staring at you with her pretty eyes. you knew the effect you had on her, so you could understand how she would just burst into your practice with no good reason if all she did was just you dancing.

“bada, i forgot you were here tonight.” you started off as you began to take off your heels. “what could possibly bring you here?” you finished feigning innocence, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

bada scoffed at your question, you knew exactly why she came into that godforsaken studio. you, you were the reason. you knew that with one simple word bada would do anything you asked and well vice versa.

bada began walking towards you before cornering you against the mirrors. she easily towered over you and she used that to her advantage. she took one of her hands and placed it under your chin gently, lifting your head slightly to directly look her in the eyes.

“y/n, you know exactly why i’m here. i’m tired of these games and finally seeing the way you danced in heels tonight…it’s time we both be honest.” bada says lowly, not breaking eye contact with you.

you could tell her voice was filled with lust, that plus the fact her aura was so strong made you immediately so needy.

“honest about what bada?” you said looking up at her with doe eyes. as bada said, you knew exactly what she was talking about, yet you still wanted to keep the teasing going a bit longer.

“y/n don’t fucking play with me. i want you so bad and you know it. so tell me princess, do you want me?” the taller girl asked as she moved her hand from your chin to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

once you heard the nickname she gave you, you knew it was over. you whined, finally giving into bada. it didn’t take much for you to go weak over the girl. “yes bada i want you, i want you so fucking bad. please i-“ bada cut you off by kissing you softly. it was your first kiss together so she wanted to just taste your lips before going crazy.

“princess you don’t know how long i’ve waited for you to say that so i could kiss you” bada admitted with a smile plastered across her face. you were still recovering from the kiss as she began to place kisses along your jawline and neck, teasing you with her actions like you teased her with your words. between kisses, she whispered her confession to you.

“you know, it’s the way you move, that’s what gets me y/n” she started. “i’ve wanted you since the first week we started whatever stupid game we had going on.”

between your soft sounds you let out, you attempted to respond to bada without sounding too desperate. “me too…i wish we admitted it sooner” you said before pushing bada away from you softly. she was confused and a bit concerned at first, but before she could think too much, you pushed her to sit on the nearby cushioned bench. once she was sat down, you firstly went to lock the door to prevent any possible incidents. then, you straddled her bringing your bodies chest to chest. you wrapped your arms around her neck as she wrapped hers around your waist tightly, as if you were going to magically disappear.

you giggled as you watched bada blush slightly at you sitting on her lap, but that didn’t last for long because immediately you looked at her with lust filled eyes and said “now kiss me like you’ve wanted me for these past couple years baby”.

bada didn’t need to hear anything else as she smashed her lips into yours. her lips moved in sync with yours, she began to bite on your lips letting you know she wanted full access. you immediately complied and opened your mouth for her. bada didn’t even have to put up a fight for dominance with her tongue, you automatically let her win. as you were making out with her, she moved her hands up to be under your shirt, wanting to feel you. the girl then started to move them up and down your waist.

eventually you got very impatient and took your shirt off, then pulling on bada’s hoodie to let her know you wanted her to do the same. the urge to deny your request was so strong, but bada had wanted this for years. so for her own sanity, she listened to you, taking her hoodie off and tossing it with your shirt on the floor. now both of you were left in your sports bras and joggers. still sitting in her lap, you admired how beautiful bada was. her long hair flowing down her back and shoulders, her already plump lips looking raw from all of your kissing, the smirk that rested on her face, and not to mention you almost drowned in her pretty eyes. as you were admiring her, bada lifted you both off the bench and placed you with your back down on the floor. immediately after, she was hovering over you looking as if she was a hungry cheetah waiting to eat her prey.

“can i mark you princess? have to let everyone know who you belong to.” bada begged you breathlessly as she was so worked up, almost as much as you were. you nodded your head so quickly as you whined and reached up to place your hands on her back. you then wrapped your legs around her, trapping her body between yours.

bada giggled at your neediness while shaking her head “needy baby, i’ll give you want you want.” the tall girl then moved herself to have her lips gently graze your skin before immediately kissing and sucking at the skin on your neck, leaving marks. she thought you looked so pretty all marked up for her. bada loved listening to the whimpers you let out as she continued her attack on your neck.

eventually she stopped and smiled down at you, admiring her work. bada couldn’t hold herself back any longer. she reached for the waistband of your pants and looked at you to confirm everything was okay. you immediately nodded you head, helping her get you out of your joggers and panties in one single pull. you whined looking at bada because you felt so exposed while she still had her pants and shows on.

you pointed at her shoes and pants before saying “off, take them off.” bada instantly complied because she was so excited. she now was just in her sports bra like you. she was starstruck if you will, she saw how gorgeous you were everywhere, including your pussy. she adjusted herself to be in-front of you as she pushed your legs apart. she took one hand and pressed it down on your waist to prevent your hips from moving too much with what she was about to do to you. with her dominant hand, she started slowly dragging her fingers through your folds. you were glistening and it was all for her, she couldn’t be more proud.

“all this for me princess? how cute…” bada trailed off as she kept playing with your pussy, not putting her fingers all the way in, just slightly dipping into your hole with the tips and then pulling out.

you whined at her “stop teasing please, i need you baby so so bad”. you were on the verge of tearing up at this point because of how sensitive and needy bada made you. once again, only because of her own impatience, bada complied and was able to slip two fingers into your pulsating heat. she loved how warm you felt, how well you took her long fingers. you moaned out her name as she began fucking you at a steady pace with her fingers. she went from simple pumping in and out to scissoring her fingers to rubbing your clit while curling her fingers up to hit that spongy part of your pussy that made you see stars.

“that’s it y/n take my fingers” bada said between your moans and whimpers. “you’re doing so well for me yeah?” however, you could barely do anything but her cry out her name let alone keep your legs open.

bada immediately slowed her pace as you closed your legs. she took her free hand and pried your thighs open, pushing one down with it to prevent you from closing them again. she simply shook her head as you whined at the pace change.

“be my good girl and keep those legs open” the dominant girl demanded. you nodded your head quickly as you reached for her hand that was still slowly moving inside you to tell her to pick the pace back up.

“bada-ah please i’ll be good please don’t stop please” you begged for your life while staring into the girl’s eyes hoping she will see your sincerity.

“hmmm…” bada fake pondered to mess with you before immediately speeding back up and fucking her fingers back into you at an inhumane speed. you let out a loud moan that you prayed to god no one else would hear. all that was floating in your mind was “bada bada bada” on repeat. at the point bada had fucked you dumb with just her fingers.

you were getting close to your orgasm and bada could tell, but before that happened you screamed at her to stop. bada’s eyes immediately filled with worry as she thought she may have hurt you. you quickly sat yourself up slightly on your elbows before admitting something to her.

“i kinda always wanted you to ride me…” you trailed off breathlessly, voice hoarse from all the moaning. “i wanna feel your pussy on mine, wanna help you come too…” you said looking at her with puppy dog eyes. bada smirked at you before leaning over you to peck your lips. she just thought you were the cutest ever.

“if that’s what you want baby, let’s do it.” bada said excitedly as she got on-top of you, slotting your legs between each other’s. once your pussies both touched, you both let out soft whimpers. it surprised you to hear the cute noises that could leave the tall girl’s mouth, you loved it so much. you became even more infatuated with the beautiful girl who was on top of you.

once bada gripped onto your knees for stability and began moving, it was game over. not a single thought was occurring in your head, you were a babbling mess as bada rode you at a quick pace. she was so desperate to make you come for her as well as her own release. she moaned out your name as you moaned hers back. due to her fast pace and you already being so close to the edge because of her previous actions, you both were about to hit your highs. all you could hear in the studio were the sounds of wetness shared between the two of you and the heavenly sounds you both made.

“baby i’m so close, are you?” she questioned you between her whimpers and cries of your name. you couldn’t even form sentences anymore because of how stimulated you were. all you could do in response is nod your head and scream her name as tears fell down your face. bada was riding you so good that you began to cry out of pleasure.

as bada kept grinding, she took one hand and placed it on your neck, barely adding any pressure. but the simple action of having her hand on your neck immediately made you come. you cried out her name and let out the most beautiful moans she’s ever heard as you hit your peak. almost immediately after, bada’s orgasm hit and all she could do was let out soft whimpers and say your name.

after you both came down from your highs, you made eye contact and giggled. both of you were in a state of blissfulness neither of you ever wanted to leave. unfortunately though, the building was closing in half an hour. so, bada got up and got you both towels and wipes from her bag. once she was all cleaned up, she helped you get cleaned up as well.

once you both eventually got dressed after procrastinating, bada took your hand in hers and offered you a ride home since she drove and she knew you took the bus. she didn’t want you taking the bus this late at night to begin with. therefore, she made a mental note to herself to tell you later that she will from now on take you home if it’s late. you smiled as you agreed to let her give you a ride.

you both gathered your things, made sure the studio was clean, and then headed to bada’s car. once you got to her car, she put both of your bags in her trunk before opening the passenger door for your. you always loved how kind and considerate bada was, it was one of her most admirable traits. bada asked for your address and once she put it in her gps, you were off.

the ride was comfortable, her soft r&b playlist playing on the radio as you both just enjoyed each other’s presence. this honestly felt a little too natural, which scared both of you slightly. neither of you wanted to mess things up, but both of you also wondered if there could be more than just the past tension and now hook up. hell, both of you definitely wanted more. however, neither of you spoke about it and just chose to enjoy the moment at the very least just in case everything goes south after this.

eventually, you had reached your humble home. bada unlocked the door and popped the trunk from inside the car. she unbuckled herself to stretch over to the passenger seat to place a soft peck on your cheek before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and admiring your beauty.

“i’ll stay here until you get inside to make sure you get in safe, text me y/n” bada says sweetly as you both couldn’t help but to smile at each other. you nodded your head in response before unbuckling yourself and getting out the car. you got your stuff from the trunk and headed towards your front door. you unlocked it and before you stepped in, you waved bye to bada while smiling the biggest you possibly could. bada couldn’t help but blush and giggle as she waved back. she felt like she was head over heels for you.

─────────────────────────────

three weeks later and it was the start of the filming for the first episode of street woman fighter season 2. you were asked by 1million to join their crew as you used to take a lot of classes from lia kim and she knew you were always a great dancer and a much needed assest to their team. you of course immediately agreed to join.

however you didn’t know you’d see bada lee herself pop up on the screen when you were asked your thoughts on each crew. you knew she lead the crew bebe, but quite honestly you didn’t pay attention to who else had been invited to the show until now. you and bada exchanged short texts since the night you spent together, but nothing that ever detailed you both would do that again or what you even were. to be honest, frustrated both of you, but both of you were so afraid of what the other would say.

when the crews all came down and sat together, you both couldn’t help but steal glances at each other. you both could tell the other wanted to say something. once it was time for battles, the first pair to go was redy vs. bada. of course you cheered for redy as she was your team member, but you couldn’t help but to also cheer for bada. though, you easily got jealous when she towered over redy like she towered over you three weeks ago and unfortunately for you it showed on your face. bada was able to see your jealousy as the battle continued and she smirked to herself, this made her even more cocky and eager to win. once it was revealed bada had a clean win, she smirked at you before turning to her team as they cheered and clapped for her. you noticed her little smirk before your team went to comfort redy and tell her she did well regardless of the result.

once all of the first round of battles were filmed, everyone had a 20 minute break. you went to go to your group’s personal room. but before you could get there, someone took you by your wrist and pulled you to the side into a more isolated area of the building. you quickly realized it was bada and a smile was plastered across your face.

“what do you need bada?” you asked looking up at her with that smile she loved to see. she couldn’t help but smile back before laughing. you were confused as to why she started laughing, but then she took your face in her hands and placed a soft peck on your lips.

bada kept your face in her hands as she said “i saw how jealous you got earlier princess, how are you jealous when technically we aren’t together?”

you pouted at her before rolling your eyes dramatically and saying “i know but, you’re still mine. you’re still my baby…” you trailed off with a blush adorning your face. bada couldn’t help but to shake her head and smile. she placed her hands on your waist and brought you close to her, she placed a soft kiss atop your head. bada looked into your eyes as she said what she had waited so long to say, she no longer could hold back her feelings.

“then let’s be together, let’s only look at each other. i’ll take you out after filming to really let everyone know who’s girl you are.”

#bada lee #bada lee fluff #bada lee angst #bada lee smut #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #swf 2 #swf2 #bada lee fic #bada lee x y/n #bada lee x fem reader #bada lee imagine #gxg #gxg imagine #gxg smut #gxg angst #gxg fluff

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hyewka · 8 months

Text

dominating..ceo soobin….dominating CEO SOOBIN!!!

using his tie as bondage ..haha im normal about this haha..but hear me out!!!!! hes a total nepo baby, getting the ceo position because of his father. different than his older brother in the sense that he thinks following in the steps of his father is his duty, none of that sense of “carrying tradition” translates well to his work though bcs he effing fucks up virtually everything that he touches. terrible at his job (nobody really tells him though) that his father has to literally hire someone to take it upon themselves to make the right decisions..so basically he has his CEO title for show. terrible at negotiation but not at asserting his dominance in the work space lol has the face of steel, not cracking a smile at any formal work events (not everyone knows hes playing with the cuffs of his stupidly expensive suit behind his back).

networking networking..networking!!! you approached mr. choi for networking. like everybody else. being friends with your ceo is unlikely, but being friendly with him would give you some perks. itd be hard though, considering the reputation he holds (cold, aloof, distant…bleh). with your simple black dress paired with pearl accessories to compliment it and your glass of wine in hand, you walk up to the rigid man by the weirdly empty bar. soobin is…awkward, really awkward. stumbles around his words when he offers a longer response to you, definitely is unprofessional with the way he just cant hide the blush on his cheeks and the fact that he even mildly finds you attractive. okay so change of plans, you’re flirting with your boss. harmless fun, everyones sort of drunk and in their own world with their plus ones anyway. “what department do you work in?”

“mm, you’re quite a curious guy.” you hide the amused smile managing to break through at seeing how his eyes widen, looking like his brains working at hundreds of miles per hour, “i’m in marketing.”

“oh, i hope you don’t take this the wrong way—sorry if you feel uncomfortable with so many questions.”

“i don’t mind them, keep asking.” you were definitely crossing an invisible territory with the way you bat your lashes at him, swirling your drink, pushing your tits up..just a bit.

himbo soobin getting more tipsy by the minute, he definitely becomes a little loose, a lot more confident with his words, though more susceptible to your teasing remarks, getting flustered every time you decide to slur your voice and actually hold eye contact.

now imagine you end up pushing soobin in a bathroom definitely not meant to fit two, at the party where hundreds of your coworkers are present, and giving him a fucking …handjob. “the bathroom?” he whispers, shocked at his whereabouts. you don’t pay him much mind as you hurriedly unbuckle his jeans, “raise your hands.” you order.

when you realize he didn’t listen to you, you take it upon yourself to take untie his tie, to which he audibly complains, “wait no—my outfitttt..”

“do you want to get like, the handjob of your life or are you going to keep being a whiny bitch?”

you’re not sure where the surge of confidence comes from (considering he could fire you with the snap of his fingers), but it shuts him up. using his expensive tie to keep his hands restrained, arms up high while you play with the himbos dick, haha…im gonna pass because the way hed be sooo whiny, whimpers slipping through but even more so when you experiment with dirty talk to see how he reacts—trying an insult about his work ethic, and how everyone sees him as incompetent, destined to throw the company to the ground..oh yup, there it is, his dick’s reacting. beads of precum’s dribbling down his tip, and you coo having found what he likes. “mr. choi likes getting degraded? imagine if your subordinates found out…”

“don’t—don’t tell anybody..please” its barely a whisper through the gasps you pull out of him every sudden speed up on his girth, but you could pick up on it.

you could’ve reassured him that you won’t, his secrets safe with you, pathetic ceo who likes to be dominated by a woman?!?!! scandalous!!! you obviously wouldn’t tell anybody, and you’ll make sure to clear that up after this but…having some fun wouldn’t hurt. not when you’re already giving your boss a fucking handjob. “my mouths tight shut… if you follow through. no cumming unless i say so.”

#soobin has a degradation kink #its canon or whatever #🌷. rana thoughts #txt hard hours #sub!idol #soobin smut

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luveline · 2 months

Note

need need NEED more hop x reader w el they are the CUTEST

“So she’s coming?” El asks.

Hopper pushes a glass of orange juice in her direction. “Mm-hm.”

“And she wants to see me.”

“Yeah, kid, she wants to see you.”

Eleven’s hair curls just under her ears. Hopper hadn’t suspected her hair would be curly once it began to grow, but it waves gently, and tighter the longer it becomes. He doesn’t know how to take care of it. He only just taught her how to use shampoo and conditioner without leaving all the suds in.

She scratches it. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” He ruffles her hair. “Eat your breakfast. You can get changed when you’re done. You need me to help you find something?”

“No. I like choosing.”

Hopper knows. She isn’t good at matching yet, but she’ll get there.

She eats her breakfast too quickly, doesn’t drink her juice, and doesn’t put her plate in the sink before she goes, but Hopper doesn’t bother getting mad. He’s trying to be less moody. He’s also trying to be understanding; she’s learning to be a normal kid. Most normal kids are slobs.

“Can we have dessert?” El shouts from her room.

“You can have a snack later.”

“Please?”

“You can have some chips once you get dressed. Are you still hungry, or–?”

“Snacks,” she says, turning on her radio.

Hopper nods, laughing to himself when there’s a knock at the door. He’s been waiting to see you all weekend, and he walks to the door with a terrible smugness about him to let you in.

“Hello,” he says, wedging the creaky frame open with his shoe.

“Hi, handsome.” You look up into his eyes, fresh-faced like you’ve had a good scrub and dressed for a day in the house in cuffless sweatpants and a hoodie he thinks might be his. “Wow, nice shirt, hotshot. What is that? The Hawkins Police Department fun run of eighty two? That’s vintage.”

He leans down to kiss you hello.

“Oh, hi,” you flirt.

You’re confident when you know you’re loved, he’s found. Still the homespun woman he knew you to be, but affectionate once you’re comfortable. He smiles into your mouth and pulls you tight to his chest, lifting you off of your feet for a millisecond before placing you back down.

“Where’s my girl?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“El?” you call. You slide around him to find her but turn back, “Did you ask her about the hugging?”

“She says it’s fine.”

“Like, she wants to?”

It had been a strange conversation. Hopper is used to telling El things, or being told things by her. He didn’t ask her what she likes for breakfast, he just kept guessing until he found the right stuff. She never asked him if she could sit in his side during movies, she just inched closer until he put his arm around her.

“She wants to,” Hopper says. She’d seemed perturbed by the question, sure, but it ended with her happy little smile through a handful of popcorn.

“El?” you call again.

“Kid! Your best friend is here!” Hopper shouts.

Thunder from her bedroom, a door swung open and slapping the wall. “Y/N?” she asks, the skirt of her dress swinging as she pauses in the doorway.

You smile and step forward. You’re tentative but excited all the same, laughing as you wrap your arms around her shoulders, and pat her back. “Hi, beautiful.”

“Where have you been? It’s two weeks.”

“Yeah? I didn’t mean to not see you for so long, I’m sorry.”

“Hop says you have lots to do.”

“There’s a leak in my bathroom,” you take her by the shoulders. “Aw, this is nice. When’d you get this? It’s light and summery.”

“Hop… from a catalogue.”

You raise your brows at him, grinning. “That’s nice. How many did you get?”

“We got five.”

“Five! From the catalogue!” You hold her hand. “Hop must really like you, huh? Who can blame him?”

El looks down at your joined hands. Hopper feels his skeptic heart softening. “He likes you, too.”

“But do we like him?” you joke, letting go of her hand to put your arm behind her back instead. You give Hopper a look.

“What?” he asks.

“I was thinking we’d go out for milkshakes?”

Hopper bites his tongue. El has a birth certificate now, she’s his daughter, she can’t be taken, but going out with her into the world draws stares and derision alike. People can tell she’s abnormal, and he can’t stand that. She doesn’t deserve to be gawked at for talking a little slowly, or messing with stuff she doesn’t understand.

But he doesn’t want her feeling punished for those things either.

“Get your jacket, El.” She beams, rushing for her room. “She’s gonna love the jukebox,” Hopper says.

You meander back into his arms, kissing his stubbly cheek. He pretends to nudge you away.

#jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x fem!reader #dad!jim hopper #dad!jim hopper x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fandom #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper fluff

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lavendertales · 2 months

Text

SEÑORITA: Chapter 9**

pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader

summary: you get Javier to open up about his life in Colombia. meanwhile, when Steve invites the whole lot of you to brunch, it becomes tough to keep your relationship a secret, especially when Javier's confession burns on the tip of his tongue.

word count: 7k

series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut; lots of flirting, love confessions, mirror sex, cunnilingus & fingering, some dry humping , cockwarming, lil bit of praise kink & gentle dom!Javi.

A/N: so hiiii yes I am not dead, I am just not really posting anymore but I will see this story through. idk if this is as good as I'd hoped, but I do hope you enjoy it nonetheless 💕

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

series masterlist | AO3

There’s loud screams all around him. Smoke, screams, and the unmistakable scent of death and despair, all around him.

Someone’s screaming for him. Saying his name on a loop. Javier, Javier, Javier. Followed by Javi. Then a toe-curling help me and please, and then—silence.

A silence so loud his ears are ringing and pouring blood.

Except when he looks around him, there’s blood everywhere.

Blood, mass destruction, and an impending sense of doom that no matter how far he runs, no matter what lies he tells, it never leaves him. It is then, in that very second as he’s looking down at the bloodied and bruised face of a woman he once thought he could be with and save, Javier realizes that sense of doom will never leave him. He will remain forever locked in its harsh and cold grip, forever followed by the inevitable shame and guilt, doomed to drown in them.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “’m sorry—I’m—I couldn’t—“

“Javi. Hey. It’s okay. Can you hear me? Javi. It’s me.”

His name on a loop, pronounced so carefully and sincerely, so rich with care and an almost soul-crushing sweetness, awakens him at long last. He’s disoriented as he looks around, his temples and forehead dripping with sweat. There’s a hand gently resting on his chest, steadying his heartbeat, and it’s then that Javier’s eyes come into focus and they see your face. And then slowly the realization that he’s no longer in Colombia, no longer surrounded by pain, comes into focus as well, and that he’s in his bed, next to the most wonderful woman he’s ever known.

“Are you alright?” you ask, gently rubbing his chest through the t-shirt.

“Yeah. I’m definitely better now.”

He cracks a reassuring smile and so do you.

“Nightmare?” you ask next.

Javier nods, rather hesitantly. “I was back in Colombia. In Bogota.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Upon noticing the hesitation on his face, you’re quick to add, “It’s okay if you don’t want to though. I don’t have to know everything about your past.”

Something about that feels oddly endearing; Javier hasn’t met anyone who has been as kind and understanding as you and for every genuine word you throw at him, for every gentle caress of his hand or his cheek, he feels his chest impossibly lighter, as if all the pain he has been carrying with him for the past few years is beginning to wear off at long last.

Though his tongue aches for verbal release, Javier isn’t certain that he wants to burden you with the horrors he had witnessed and done in Colombia. You are far too tame to handle such harsh realities, even if you clearly expect the truth and nothing but it.

“I did things I’m not proud of,” he lets out in a coarser than expected voice. “Terrible things. Either for information or out of… helplessness or desperation.”

You don’t say anything; you adjust your position so that you face him clearer, even in the darkness, and let him continue.

“I’m no saint, by no means. I guess sometimes I thought my actions were justified because the end result would be good. But it rarely ever was.”

And before he knows it, Javier is telling you the chapter of his life which he deemed closed some time ago, from start to finish: he tells you about him and Steve and how they worked together; he tells you about working with the most gruesome group in all of Colombia in order to get to Pablo Escobar; he tells you about Helena and how he cared about her and how he got her traumatized simply because he pushed her too much for information; he tells you of all the people he threatened, shot, of all the plans he made and failed, how he got the so-called promotion in Cali and how it meant that Steve was the one who ended Escobar eventually. By the end of it, it’s nearly morning and you’re cuddled at his chest, listening to him breathe and caressing his cheek.

“I appreciate you opening up about this,” you murmur. “I know it can’t possibly be easy.”

“It is. It feels easier with you.”

You smile, chastely kissing his lips. Javier’s chest rises and falls with each additional shaky breath he takes as he forces his mind to collaborate with his mouth in order to get out those pesky three words that have been pressing on his conscience for weeks now. Yet the way you kiss him tenderly and sweetly, as if to reassure him that he’s safe and sound from any harm in this world, it shuts him up real good.

His mother once told him that when he’ll meet someone special, he’ll know it and he’ll know just what to say and when. He was still a kid at the time and he dismissed his mother’s words, but now he feels them to be truer than ever.

“So if we were in Colombia,” you say suddenly as a smirk graces your lips, “would I be one of your girls?”

Javier turns to you, faintly amused. He cocks an eyebrow at you, his interest visibly peaked.

“What?”

“Would I be one of many girls that fall at Javier Peña’s feet? One of the lucky ones who get to go to bed with him?”

Something aches inside Javier as you pose that question. It’s a playful one and while you have no ill intentions behind it, it dawns on Javier that the idea repulses him on a certain level. The idea of you being just another pretty face to add to that seemingly endless list of conquests, another forgettable name on there… he doesn’t want that.

Especially not when the reality could not be more farther from the truth.

“No,” he responds, shifting closer to you and removing a strand of hair from your face. “No, absolutely not.”

You smile, somewhat confused. “Why not?”

“Because you’re—better. You’re—you’re everything, you—“

His heart starts pounding, his throat feels beyond dry and it feels as if there is a huge ball of fire in his chest, waiting to burst at the slightest movement.

“I—what?”

Tell her. Tell her now.

Tell her you fucking coward!

“We should get some rest,” Javier mutters, stroking your hair and coaxing you into his arms so that you fall asleep as soon as possible. Once you do, he finally exhales, still burdened and haunted, but much more secure in his decision to finally come clean to you tomorrow, no matter what.

Except that when tomorrow comes, Javier receives an unexpected invitation.

“You free in about two hours?” Steve’s voice asks through the phone, and Javier gulps out of instinct.

“Yeah, think so. Why?”

“How would you feel about having brunch with me and Connie?”

He falters, and it’s as if Steve can sense the hesitation on his part because he’s quick to add, “Hopefully my sister’s gonna be there too. Also Sylvie and her boyfriend Zack, they’re coming too. You know, my sister’s friends.”

“Right, yeah, I think she mentioned them at some point.”

“Yeah. I thought a nice friendly meal would do us all good. What do you say?”

Javier meets your face from the corner of his eye and notices the question written all over it. He shakes his head briefly, a little “I’ll handle this for us” sign, and resumes his conversation with Steve.

“Sounds nice, I’m in,” he tells Steve.

“Great. Just gotta call my sister now. Or hope to get in touch with her at least.”

“Just call her, I’m sure it’s gonna be fine.”

The moment he hangs up, he stares at you with the same guilty face he’s been having whenever Steve’s been around lately.

“You need to go to your apartment,” he tells you in a grim voice.

You frown. “Are you kicking me out?”

Javier makes a face. “No, of course not. But you need to go to your apartment because your brother’s gonna call you and you need to answer the phone.”

“I could be sleeping in. It’s Sunday, after all. I could’ve been out last night. Hell, I could’ve been with somebody. Maybe I was with Dean and we—“

“Okay, stop.”

You try not to smile seeing the bothered look on Javier’s face. Instead, you inch closer to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Aw, honey, are you jealous of Dean?” you peck his lips.

“I think we’ve already established that I was. But not anymore. I’ve got you, and he can go suck a lemon for all I care.”

You scoff, kissing him again, utterly enjoying the sensation of Javier simply melting into your arms, into the kiss you share.

“You really should stop with this because if you don’t, we’re gonna be stuck in here for the rest of the day, spent and sweaty,” Javier warns, to which you cock an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, so what did my brother want?”

“He invited us to brunch.”

“Us?”

“Well, me. And he should be calling you any moment, so if you could go to your apartment and answer the phone, I’d really appreciate that.”

“But I could be—“

“Please. For me?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. “Fine. You’re lucky I’m sweet on you.”

Javier presses a kiss to your cheek, stroking your hand.

“But we need to set up some ground rules for this brunch,” he tells you sternly.

“Rules? For what?”

“We said we’re not gonna tell Steve about us until we’re ready, and we’re not really there yet, so no sitting together, no touching, no looking at each other unless absolutely necessary.”

“Don’t you think that makes it more suspicious?”

“Hopefully not.”

You chuckle. “For someone who used to be a bad boy, you sure like setting down rules.”

“I’m just saying—okay, just—just go upstairs.”

“Ooh, yes, sir.”

He knows you’re joking; he knows you’re teasing him, especially in that falsely impressed and sultry tone of voice, and yet a part of him still twitches at the thought of you being so willing, so malleable and needy for him.

It’s a thought that will never leave his mind—or his body.

The little bistro Steve chose—aka claims, because everyone knows Connie is the one who actually picked it—for the brunch is quite cozy: floral arrangements adorn the outside windows, little lights hang from the walls on the inside, and plenty of people buzzing and chatting, completely immersed in their conversations.

If he were honest, Javier preferred if the two of you showed up at this brunch separately—although in hindsight, that would probably raise more questions instead of burying them for good. But he still has a knot in his throat even when you assure him that nobody’s going to bat an eyelash and that they will all think you coming together here was nothing more but an act of convenience.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” you sneakily squeeze Javier’s hand. “Could you at least try to look less constipated? Just—you know, for at least an hour or two.”

Javier frowns at you, taking a deep breath and taking one last, long look at you, as if he’s trying to memorize every single detail about you. You crack a smile.

“It’s going to be fine,” you reassure him. “You care far more about Steven’s opinion than I do. I don’t care if he finds out.”

“I kind of do.”

“I know you do. And it’s so sweet. But so what if he finds out? I mean… what’s he gonna uncover? That his little sister is in the healthiest and best relationship she’s ever had?”

“With his friend and partner whom he particularly asked not to fool around with his little sister.”

“Javi, we’re not just fooling around.” After a pause, you continue somewhat concerned. “Are we?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Then you shouldn’t worry this much.”

It’s quite astounding how fast you’re capable of calming Javier down with minimal effort. But it works, and when the two of you enter the place and take your seats at the table, greeted by the rest of the party, Javier breathes a little easier. He avoids Steve’s eyes as he shakes hands with Zach and Sylvie, guilt weighing on his conscience like the heaviest boulder. He tries his best in remembering your words that this isn’t about Steve, it’s about the two of you and your newfound happiness, but alas, he remains just a little bit stiff throughout brunch as conversation starts flowing between all of you.

On the brighter side, Javier smiles to himself seeing you and Steve engaged in conversation, laughing with each other. You’re sitting side by side to your brother, which means Javier is right in front of you and gets to notice the two of you mending your relationship.

Then he thinks again of how hopelessly in love he feels with you, how he has been for the past several weeks, if not more, and how it’s all happening behind Steve’s back. Maybe you were right, though; maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for Steve to find out at last. He’d find out that his little sister is happy, and that his best friend is content, at peace.

Would that be so bad?

And then he feels your foot rubbing against his, sneaking its way up, just in the slightest; he inhales a sharp breath, giving you a death stare, and he gets his answer.

Maybe it would be so bad.

“I hear you finished writing your book?” Sylvie asks you, redirecting Javier’s attention to the subject matter.

“I did,” you proudly say. “I need to do the final editing, run it by someone, but I’m pretty confident it’ll be out by next year. At least that’s the hope.”

“That’s so damn cool,” Zach says in between mouthfuls.

“Truly amazing,” Connie adds.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Everyone turns to look at Steve, who’s got the brightest smile on his face and his glass raised up. They all follow suit with the gesture, toasting your accomplishment as you stare at your big brother.

“Really, I am,” Steve goes on. “I’ve always been. Always thought you’re amazing. Much cooler than me.”

“By miles.”

The table laughs.

“But it dawned on me that I never really told you this. So… I want you to know that I am very proud of you, every day. And I love you.”

“Thank you. And I love you too.”

“Here, here!”

The conversation begins to flow easily afterwards: Connie shares Olivia’s latest endeavors and how she started walking; Zach and Sylvie talk about their relationship and how it is to live together, to which you make a tasteful joke about her pretending to still live with you as well and how you and Zach basically share Sylvie; then Steve talks about work and how he enjoys it, being similar and yet different than what he used to do in Colombia. Javier remains silent during this portion, sipping on his black coffee and pretending not to feel your leg sliding up his.

“What about you, Javier?” Sylvie asks.

“What about me what?”

“How do you like it at the precinct?”

“It’s okay.”

You eye him briefly, affectionately rubbing your leg on his shin, concealing a smile as you see him squirm in his seat.

“Javi’s having a bit of a tough time adjusting,” Steve intervenes.

“It’s police work. It’s what I know, and it’s what I do.”

“It’s what gives you nightmares.”

Everyone at the table turns towards you, the same surprised look on all of their faces. You shrug, ignoring Javier’s deadly stare.

“And you know this how?” Steve asks reticently.

“By talking. By asking and by actually getting to know people, Steven.”

“Let’s move on, shall we?” Javier suggests.

“What do you mean?” Steve resumes, focusing solely on you. “I know people, I talk to them.”

You take a deep breath, maintaining a neutral tone even if your pulse increases rapidly.

“You refer to Javier as your best friend, but besides work, how much do you really talk to each other?”

“We talk.”

“Sometimes too much if you ask me,” Javier adds.

“Point is, he is my best friend.”

“Really? Did you know that he has night terrors? Not nightmares, terrors. And not every night, but he has ‘em. He mumbles and groans in his sleep, sometimes cries or even screams. He apologizes over and over to dead people, to you and to Connie.”

“Oh, Javi…” Connie mumbles.

“Do you know how I know this?”

There’s a lightbulb moment happening inside Steve’s head, and it is perfectly legible on his face as he stares at you, then at Javier, who gulps. Steve says your name, still processing, and it is only then that Javier stands up abruptly, his eyes shooting right at you.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? All the way over there?”

You raise your eyebrows, quite surprised, but nod and follow Javier all the way to the buffet table. You notice the little crease between his brows, the way he purses his lips and you can tell something’s making him uncomfortable. Suddenly the thought makes you feel guilty.

“Javi, I’m sorry if I crossed a line—“

“You thought at brunch would be a good idea to rub your leg against me? With your friends and brother right next to you?”

You furrow your brows, even more taken aback. “Okay, not where I thought this conversation was headed,” you confess.

“Tell me.”

As much as you’d like to deny it or pretend like it doesn’t affect you, Javier’s demeanor is getting through to you in ways you wouldn’t have thought possible; the way he’s being so adamant about his request, his voice low and husky—

“I thought it would be fun, yes,” you shamelessly admit.

“You gotta stop it because otherwise I might excuse us again and fuck you in that bathroom.”

Speechless, you stare at him, mouth ajar and heart pounding in your ears. You find yourself incapable of saying anything for the next few seconds, and even more shocking, you find yourself seriously debating Javier’s words.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about it,” he says.

“Don’t tell me you’re not,” you chuckle.

Javier huffs, frustrated to the point of taking his own words into consideration.

Except he is trying really hard not to be that kind of man and be more respectful and wary.

“Gotta be honest, I thought you were gonna be upset about me saying you have nightmares,” you mutter.

“No, I’m upset because you were rubbing up against me with your brother right next to you, and I can’t keep going like this. So either you tell him about us, or I do.”

You stare at him incredulously. “Wait, seriously? You wanna tell him?”

“I need a clear conscience. And I really need it so next time I fuck you, I won’t feel so guilty.”

You chuckle, stroking his arm. You’re fully aware that the gesture hasn’t gone unnoticed by the four people who are most likely still staring at you two, but all of a sudden, you no longer care. Javier is right; just as he doesn’t want to deny or hide it anymore, neither do you.

So when you return to the table, the perfect comeback is hatched from your brain.

“Sorry about that,” you smile, turning straight to Steven.

“What’s going on?”

“As I was saying, do you know how I know all of those things about Javier?”

“Don’t say it.”

“I’ve been spending the nights at his place. Every night for like three months now.”

Connie and Sylvie are the only ones smiling, except the latter is sipping from her cup of coffee with utmost interest.

“Three months?” Steven repeats. “So you chose to sleep with my best friend to what? To prove a point, to—to laugh in my face?”

“Neither. Actually, it did start as a way to get back at you. But as it turns out, he’s great in the sack.”

“As advertised,” Javier adds.

“And you wanted to skip brunch today,” Sylvie whispers to Zach, who’s watching the exchange as speechless as Connie.

“Don’t—“Steve shakes his head.

“Oh yeah, he’s fantastic. Knows his way around a woman’s body better than she knows it. I’m talking about waves and waves of endless pleasure.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Actually, I think I might too. We haven’t really been careful, you know? It’s been a lot of sweaty, rough and yet so passionate—“

“Okay, stop! Why are you being like this? Both of you!”

You exchange a glare with Javier, both of you smiling at each other.

“Like what? Wild, unhinged?”

“Kind of, yes!”

“The way you’ve been treating me since I was 15? Which I haven’t been in years, by the way.”

“Please tell me you were using some form of birth control though.”

“Ew, shut up! Would you calm down already? We’re both responsible adults, we know what to do. Besides, we’re not just sleeping together. We’re going on dates and spending time together and… we like each other.”

“We’re not just fooling around,” Javier adds, unable to look away from you. “I’m in love with her.”

You stare back at him, ignoring Connie’s soft oh my God in your vicinity, even Sylvie’s I fuckin’ knew it towards Zach.

“Javi, it’s okay, you don’t have to—“

“I love her, Steve. And I did keep my promise to not fool around with her. What I can do is promise to keep her safe and treat her with respect and care.”

It dawns on you that this is the first time you’ve heard Javier say those words, and realizing he also hasn’t said them since his last real relationship. It’s a huge milestone in both your lives, and the fact that Javier chose this moment to confess makes you realize how much he must care about you.

“It’s true,” you add. “I—I love him too. I have for quite some time.”

“I fuckin’ told you,” Sylvie smiles. “I told you, and I knew sooner or later—“

“Not now, Syl.”

“Right, sorry. Continue.”

“Honey?” Connie presses her hand to Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t you wanna say something to them?”

“I’m really sorry, guys. I never wanted to… to treat you this way, to push you even further, sis. I guess I was just afraid that what Colombia did to me and Javier would be too much for you to handle. I know Connie got overwhelmed at some point. Rightfully so. But after all, I had her to come home to. Javier was… alone, and burying his problems in alcohol, cigarettes and random women. Relationships were out of question for him, and I saw what Colombia did to him overall, what all of that did to him. I didn’t want any of that for you. I obviously want you both to be happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I see you guys now being so happy with each other… it makes me happy.”

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell you earlier,” Javier says. “I guess we needed some time to figure things out ourselves.”

“Doesn’t matter now. Point is, I know my sister, she’s an amazing woman, and I—I missed the angle where that might be something good for Javier. Which it clearly is. And clearly he was full of shit when he said you’re not his type.”

“Just out of curiosity,” you intervene, “what exactly is Javier’s type?”

“The usual sexy, sultry woman.”

You raise your brows, to which Steve panics. “Not that you’re not! I mean, not that I think you as my sister are sexy… okay, this is weird, let’s move on.”

“Yeah, let’s.”

“I meant, you’re more the next door girl kind of woman, I suppose, and Javier usually went for the ‘right in your face sexy’ kind of a woman.”

“Relax, I know. I’m just teasing you.”

“Yeah, it’s what you do best.”

Everyone laughs, with Connie affectionately rubbing Steve’s arm.

“But listen, as glad as I am that we are talking about this and being open and mature about it, please do be safe, okay?” Steve says, and you make a face. “Also I know this goes without saying, probably—hopefully—but please don’t have a baby just to spite me.”

“Steven—“

“Please, I’ve learned my lesson, I swear. I promise I’ll be good! I’ll stay out of your relationship, just don’t—“

“Steven!”

“I’m not totally ready to be an uncle. I need to mentally prepare myself for a baby that’s half Murphy, half Peña.”

You roll your eyes. “Would you relax? We are not there yet. We may never be there. I don’t know. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but for now we’re good the way we are. Plus he’s teaching me Spanish too.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“But don’t worry, we only do it when I get a full sentence right.”

Seeing the scandalized look on Steve’s face, you burst into laughter, and the rest follow suit.

“I’m kidding! Oh my God, it’s so fun messing with you.”

“Something is seriously wrong with you.”

You can’t help but share the laughter with the rest of the company, never quite managing to capture Javier’s eyes in your direction, not even on the way home. It only hits you the weight of the words that had been hastily, yet calculatedly, been spilled at the brunch table among friends and family once you get the inside of his apartment. You look around, finally allowing the day’s events to hit you, and then you turn to look at Javier, a warm smile gracing your face.

He confessed to everyone present that he loved you, standing up to your overly protective older brother.

“What’s going on?” Javier asks.

It somehow still surprises you that he’s able to capture the concern on your face, even when it’s not there. You’re not concerned this time around. Quite the opposite; you’ve never felt more at ease and more impressed by a partner. Granted, not that you had many serious relationships in the past, but this right now with Javier, it has so much potential to be something grand that it astounds you.

“About what you said before,” you start, your heart thrumming in your ears. “At brunch.”

Then it hits Javier as well. He inhales deeply, steadying himself.

“Right. So here’s the thing,” he clears his throat. “I’ve only ever said those words once before, and as we know, it didn’t end very well. Okay, in all fairness, it wasn’t paradise city from the beginning, it was more of a masked—that’s not the point. Anyway—“

You conceal a chuckle, staring at him with anticipation and a warmth that exceeds any expectation.

“I’ve only said those words once,” he resumes, “and I did mean it at the time. But I wasn’t really… in love when I said them. It didn’t feel like it should. But now, I think for the first time in my life, I feel those words the way they should feel. I thought I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t do relationships because I suck at them and there was never any time back in Colombia but… I think I just needed to find my match.”

You take his hand into yours. “Javi…”

“I’m serious. I’ve never met anyone so witty and funny, so—so badass. Frankly you could probably kick my ass and I’d be hella turned on.”

You don’t stifle the hearty laugh that escapes your mouth this time, and it triggers the same reaction out of Javier.

“The point I’m trying to make is… I meant what I said. I didn’t just say it to shut Steve up. I—I do love you. The best that I can, which I don’t think is near enough to what you deserve, but… I’m trying to do better, to—“

You cup his cheeks, kissing him tenderly. Javier blinks surprised at you, and his flustered face with his big brown eyes is so sweet it weakens your knees.

“You’re doing just fine, Javi,” you reassure him. “Are you kidding me? You’re so attentive and sweet and—and I love you too.”

Javier blinks in surprise again. Somehow it slipped right by him that you could reciprocate his feelings, hence why he’s rendered speechless for several seconds.

“What uh—I mean… you do?” he finally asks.

“I do. I love you. I should’ve said it sooner, I think, after you turned my story into a book. That’s… kind of when I knew. I guess I chickened out.”

“You chickened out? Why?”

You sigh. “Because… I never said the words before.”

“Wait, you never said ‘I love you’ to someone?”

You shake your head, slightly shuddering. “Well, you know my dating history and patterns, so none of those boys stuck around long enough for me to actually develop real feelings. And there was never any real connection between us. All we really had—“

“Ah, okay, I can—I can visualize what you had.”

“Aw, honey, are you jealous?”

“No. Just… not really a fan of picturing you have sweaty sex with some douchebag.”

“How about if I have some sweaty sex with a very good man?”

Though his interest visibly peaked, Javier still gulps at the notion of being referred to as “a very good man”. It’s the lie he’s told himself countless times back in Medellin and Cali and Bogota, and the same lie he operated under with the hope of excusing his horrid choices. But to hear now as something factual, something that someone as wonderful as you actually believes in…

“You could,” he finally says, stepping closer to you.

His hands roam around your waist, teasing from the small of your back; shivers run down your spine, prickling your skin.

“Is this how you were with the women back then?” you dare ask.

“Why the sudden interest?”

You shrug. “Not sudden. I’m a writer. Everyone has the potential to be an interesting character. Besides, I find the Javier stories fascinating.”

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, that Javier isn’t really around. All he was good for was some fast and rough outlet for release and… not much more.”

“So I take it that dominant, needy Javier is gone?”

He raises his brows, chuckling at the way you’re sneakily handling him. A part of him still fears this power you hold over him, but a bigger part of him is thrilled even by the still of your hand, let alone the way you’re capable of handling him.

He’s never had that, he realizes; he’s never had a woman meet him right where he’s at, handle him like a pro and then some more, and he enjoys it far more than he would’ve expected.

“I meant gone as in… gone on a vacation, not dead.”

You smile, teasingly playing with the hem of his shirt.

“That what you need now?” Javier teases.

“I want whatever you’re comfortable with giving me.”

That’s what ultimately sets him off. So when he finally kisses you, it’s rugged, needy and asserting dominance, but there’s also something very tender in the way Javier is holding you, pulling you into his body. Javier’s sole focus right now is exposing more of you to him, feeling you as close as humanly possible; therefore, he doesn’t tell you just how affected he is by your choice of words. He doesn’t tell you that this is the weakest, yet strongest he’s ever felt. If someone were to ask him how he feels, he’d easily reply “disgustingly happy”, words which he never used before.

He doesn’t tell you any of this; he lets actions speak louder. Calloused fingers, accustomed to manhandling and roughhousing, caress and cup your ass. With each passing second, the kiss you share deepens further, his pulse quickens and his jeans become more and more constricted. Never mind that it’s the middle of the day, in broad daylight; Javier wants—needs—to marvel at every inch of you, exactly as it is.

“Whatever you want from me,” he tells you through a shuddering breath as he slowly undresses you, “it’s yours. Anything.”

Javier surprises himself at how malleable he finds himself to be, caught under your spell, but he does not care one bit. When you look into his eyes and see his blown out pupils, you know he means it. You feel his words to be true.

You smile as you close your eyes and pull him in for another hasty kiss, stumbling your way to the bed. Javier strips you slowly, stealing kisses down your body while a breath catches in your throat. The sun shines right through the big windows on this crisp fall day, so there’s nothing to hide. It’s only when Javier’s hands finally pull down your panties and expose you to him that you notice you’re facing the mirror hanging from the wall of his bedroom. You shiver and on cue, Javier’s hungry eyes look up to meet yours. He smirks—because of course he does, son of a bitch.

“It’s a great view, isn’t it?” he murmurs, tentatively licking a stripe up your pussy.

His eyes don’t leave you when you sneak another glance at the mirror: it’s not huge, but big enough to fit your naked body and Javier’s head right between your legs. No good words cross your mind, even if your mind is in overdrive, begging your mouth to release some form of verbal speech. Your knees buckle and your heart beats rapidly when Javier takes his first taste. It feels like the first time he’s ever done this, though it’s really old news by this point. Recently you thought Javier’s existence is limited to one place and one place alone, and that is in between your legs, based on how much he loves spending time down there—whether he’s snug inside you or eating you out.

“Watch how gorgeous you are when you come on my tongue,” you hear Javier’s voice, lustful and dark.

“Presumptuous, aren’t we?”

You laugh a little, but it quickly fades when you feel two digits moving slowly in and out of you, a tongue collecting the slick gathered in your most sensitive spot. His nose nudges your clit, his whole mouth is seemingly buried in your pussy, and all you can do is moan helplessly, let one of your hands grab a handful of his hair and keep your eyes locked on the way your body curves and aches at his mercy. God, he’s so needy, so eager to please you and to give you orgasms; almost like this is his purpose in this world.

“Does it feel good?” you hear his husky voice.

His fingers feel like they’re splitting you open while you nearly fall apart in his mouth, and at the same time it’s not enough. It drives you insane.

You nod frantically, locked in the same trance of watching yourself getting ate out by Javier.

“With words, señorita.”

Oh fuck. You hadn’t expected that, certainly not the reaction it triggers out of you.

“Yes,” you exhale. “It feels so, so good, Javi.”

“Good. Touch yourself.”

Though your mind is in a haze, you’re able to follow his instruction. Your hand bolts to your clit, rubbing in circling motions. That, paired with his fingers pumping in and out of you and his mouth like a hot furnace devouring your pussy, it doesn’t take that much longer to get you to where you desperately need. Seeing you like this, being able to make you feel this way, it’s all getting to Javier too; he’s gotten so hard by this point it’s borderline masochistic how much pain he’s voluntarily taking in, so he unconsciously starts to rub against the edge of the bed. The friction is so good, but nowhere near enough. It’ll have to do for now, he thinks. He needs to get you off first.

A moan is harshly ripped from the back of your throat, your legs jerk and nearly trap Javier between them as pleasure jolts throughout your body. It’s electric, overwhelming, and simply unmatched. It’s too much all at once, to look in the mirror and see how painfully needy you are for this man, how beautifully fucked out you look in at this very moment. You notice his hips, desperately humping the bed, unbeknownst even to himself.

Javier pulls out his fingers, only his tongue remaining on your overly sensitive area, the strokes of it now gentler. You tug on his hair to make him attentive, and when he looks up, you see his face contorted in a mixture of delight, pleasure and neediness. And just like that, your body aches again, only this time for something more.

“Ah fuck,” Javier groans in his fast attempt to dispose of his clothes. “Didn’t notice I was—“

He sighs right as you smile, taking in the sight of a naked Javier, all in broad daylight for you to savor. He’s so hard now it almost pains you, so when you make a motion to get to him and stroke him, Javier nearly swats your hand away.

“Why not?” you ask with a pout.

“Because it’s gonna be a fucking miracle if I last more than a few seconds and I wanna be inside you when we come.”

You raise your brows. “We?”

“What did I tell you in the beginning that you’ll always have from me?”

“At least two orgasms.”

“I live up to my words.”

He’s wrapped the condom around his cock, now crawling in between your legs, the place he has claimed as his own and by far the most incredible place he’s ever resided in. He’s done this plenty of times before now, it’s nothing new; and yet, this very moment which reeks of anticipation and desire, this single moment in time when his hand is curled around his cock, guiding himself to your already soaked entrance, Javier wishes he could freeze it, keep it to himself forever.

When he slides right at home, deep inside you, you both moan in tandem. And it is the most damnable, beguiling and intoxicating sensation he’s ever known.

Probably because you’re not just another girl passing through his life and his bed. You’re not another random face or a number to the list of women he’s been with.

You’re the woman he loves, the woman he’d take a bullet for if he had to, the woman he’d move mountains for.

“Javi?”

You have this ability to bring him back with his feet to the ground whenever he tends to wander off, and Javier is nothing if not grateful for it, particularly now.

“Can you move? Please?” you plead and it’s so sweet he could come just from that.

Javier chuckles, the sound resembling that of a madman—and he supposes he is one, in a sense.

“Keep lookin’,” he instructs, a little bit of his Texan roots slipping in his tone as he starts to roll his hips. “Want you to watch how good you take me. How—beautiful you are when you take me.”

The grip you have over his shoulders tightens as his hips pick up a moderate pace, pounding into you with a mixture of greed and love. The more he sinks into you, whispering sweet nothings and giving the occasional order, the more you feel pressure building inside your belly. You do as he says, watching your body writhing beneath his in the mirror, and you shudder. His back covers a lot of the frame, so you mostly notice him from behind, pounding into you, and your nearly limp body underneath, taking him as he is giving himself to you.

The sensation of having him atop of you is stellar, something almost like it was meant for you and you alone; Javier’s stealing the occasional kiss from you, his hips more erratic with each additional thrust and his mouth whispering that he’s so close, so fucking close.

“D’you see?” he manages to get out through a wicked smile. “See how—how fuckin’ good you look hmm?”

“Yes—yes, I see it—“

“Mhm—good girl. My good fuckin’ girl.”

Javier loses any train of thought, be it rational or not, and when his orgasm finally hits, it’s all too much and too sudden, and when he can’t stop cussing or thrusting furiously into you, you cup his cheeks and tell him a simple “I love you”.

And he lets go, almost violently.

He’s struggling to catch his breath when he feels you spasming around him, and there’s pride to be felt even when he’s dumbfounded that you came almost at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you make a face at him trying to regulate his breaths. “I was kinda hoping… I’d last longer.”

You kiss him sweetly, gently, still feeling him ache inside of you. “It’s the sexiest thing,” you murmur.

“Having the endurance of a teenage boy?”

“No, the idea that someone needs you this desperately they can’t hold themselves in one piece. I love that. And I love you.”

Javier pecks your lips. “I don’t think I’ll get used to you saying that.”

“You should.”

“I love you too.”

You stay snugged up like that for who knows how long, while the sun rays beam down on your naked bodies. And then it starts to get dark, and you’re on Javier’s lap, slowly riding him and kissing him, aiming for nothing in particular but intimacy.

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tags: @pedrostories @psychedelic-ink @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs @casa-boiardi @fallenkitten @jenispunk

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iwritefandomimagines · 2 months

Text

NOTES — JESS MARIANO

based on a request

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: after months of mutual pining, jess arrives at luke’s having read your favourite novel. oh, and he has some notes.

warnings: swearing, jokey sexual reference, other than that just tooth rotting fluff vibes

author’s note: thank you so much for this request, i loved it sm i had to immediately start writing!!! i hope it does jess justice — i love writing him so much. i may go back and edit some bits im not 100% happy with — but i hope you enjoy!!!

pleaaaaase let me know what you think — i love love love reading you guys’ feedback <3

———

“I finished it.”

If you were anyone else, you’d have jumped out of your skin at the sudden, and rather loud, appearance of someone beside you.

But this was you, and it was Jess, so you were more than used to your ‘peaceful’ study sessions at Luke’s being interrupted by his ever-present smirk, his flirting and his endless supply of smartarse comments.

Not that you could complain.

You’d grown used to his omnipresence over a year ago. And it had been months now since you’d realised that you no longer just tolerated his company — you enjoyed it a ridiculous amount and instead longed for it when he wasn’t around.

You eyed him quizzically, noting how proud of himself he looked for reading your favourite book, but also noticing an unusual lack of self-assurance glimmering through his expression.

“I would ask if you mean this trig stuff for Mr Elton,” you gestured down to the homework you’d been painfully poring over for the past hour, “But I know you too well to expect you to actually do your homework, so what are you talking about?”

He didn’t mention that the real reason he never studied in your trig study sessions was because he was more often than not too busy staring at you and coming up with things to say to make you laugh.

Jess raised his eyebrows, but then shook his head and cleared his throat to do a godawful impression of you, “Oh Jess, I can’t believe you’ve never read it. My favourite novel in the whole world and you’ve never read it!”

You scoffed, “If that was supposed to be me, get out of here.”

“Please, like you really want to get rid of me,” he teased, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of you, “Then you’d be miserable and heartbroken and, even worse, have to actually finish your trig homework. Besides, I enjoyed it.”

Your eyes brightened up at this, and you could tell he noticed, “Don’t look so surprised, Y/N. Your taste isn’t that bad… I mean, you hang out with me don’t you?”

“For some reason, yes,” you pretended to grumble, feigning ignorance of the butterflies in your stomach at his usual smug smile, “But you really liked it?”

He sat down in the seat opposite you now, pulling the book from his bag and slamming it down in front of you, “Well, I have notes of course.”

You rolled your eyes, at which he couldn’t help but laugh, “Hey, it wasn’t terrible. I did say I enjoyed it… Some of the notes are nice.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

“You wound me,” Jess feigned a pout, “Romance isn’t usually my genre and you know that.”

“Of course. Hemingway fanboy is too cool for my sappy romantic books, huh,” you joked, heart still racing wildly at the notion he’d even started reading it, let alone finished it.

“Pfft. Austen fangirl should be less rude and give more Hemingway a try, I say,” he quipped back, tongue in cheek.

“Hey, I like Hemingway,” you shook your head, “I just don’t go to bed and jerk off over how great I think he is like you so obviously do.”

He shook his head and pulled a face that faked shock, “And how much time in the day, on average, would you say you spend thinking about what I jerk off over, huh?”

“You are such an ass,” you tutted, swatting his arm, “Approximately none, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“Anyway, if you’re done being gross, let’s get back to the important thing here. You read my book,” You reached to pull the book towards you, only for him to snatch it back and rest his elbows on it.

You furrowed your brows at him, “What’ve you got to hide in there?”

His eyes narrowed, his lip between his teeth now as though he was thinking hard about something.

“C’mon, Mariano,” you leaned forward, “I assumed that since you brought the book with you, I’d get to see at least some of your notes.”

His fingers were picking at the edges of the book’s cloth sleeve, his toes drumming on the floor anxiously like they’d recently begun to do more often when he was around you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, “Look. I’m going to give you this, and then I’m gonna leave the diner, alright? And then, and only then, you can open this book up, and you can read what’s in there. And if you never see me again it’s ’cause I’ve died of embarrassment or something. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes, chin on your palm.

He slid the book in your direction now as you watched him swallow thickly and cocked your head to the side like a curious puppy, “Ever so cryptic, aren’t you?”

“You’ll figure it out, Miss Marple.”

With that, he rose to his feet and darted out of the diner before you could even say another word.

You briefly made eye contact with Luke behind the counter, who watched you carefully for a moment before looking down at the book now carefully clutched between your fingers.

You wasted no time then, pulling open the book and desperately skimming for whatever the hell he was talking about.

You weren’t sure what on earth you expected to find when you flicked through its pages, but it most certainly wasn’t a plethora of sticky tabs with scrawled notes on about how the protagonist reminded him of you.

You expected even less, then, to find a note in Jess’ handwriting at the very back of the book declaring that he realised halfway through — when the two love interests whose relationship bore a crazy resemblance to your own, realised that they were in fact in love — that he’d been stupid to deny that he even liked you, let alone that he’d quite obviously fallen stupidly in love with you.

Shock coursed through you, your heart racing at the uncharacteristically romantic and yet somehow still so incredibly Jess gesture.

You stood up, almost knocking over your chair as you placed the book under your arm and turned to leave, “I’ll be back—uh, soon.”

Luke nodded, “Go get him kiddo.”

You smiled, butterflies whirling in your stomach as you left the diner almost as quickly as Jess had just minutes ago.

You knew exactly where you’d find him — perched on the bridge swinging his feet and letting his mind convince him you wouldn’t in a million years feel the same.

When he heard the sound of your footsteps approaching, you saw him clench his eyes shut as if in hope that he was imagining you and that you’d soon disappear.

“You can’t confess your love for me and then run away, Jess,” you bit your lip as you teased him softly, “It’s not fair not to give me a chance to say it back properly. You do get bonus points for how much of a romance novel cliché that move is, though.”

He sighed, a deep heavy sigh of relief, and it was as though suddenly he reverted to his usual self, “Technically the book confessed my love for you, actually. And the window for reciprocating hasn’t quite closed yet. I’m all ears, pretty girl.”

You loved this.

You loved how easy things always were for you with Jess.

Everything that went unspoken still never went unsaid — sure, you’d been flirtatious friends for a while now, uncertain of quite how seriously he reciprocated your feelings, but deep down you always sort of knew.

You loved that ever since he’d come to Stars Hollow, he’d shown that he cared in his own silly little ways.

And he loved you.

And you loved him.

You sat down at his side, still clutching the book tightly as he finally looked across at you with a small smile.

“You’re such a romantic, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you,” you nudged his side teasingly, “But I— Jess I do love you, and I’ve probably loved you for a long time even though I didn’t want to let myself admit it.”

“Wow, okay Mr Darcy… Wait ‘til Luke hears that the real reason you’ve only just told me that is because you think he’s embarrassing,” he mocked, but you felt him shuffle closer, “I’ve definitely loved you for longer than I thought I had too, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Much better, Miss Bennet,” you laughed, linking your arms and leaning against his shoulder as he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head.

You felt Jess’ chest rise and fall as you closed your eyes and let the sound of the stream beneath you wash over you.

“So, like, I don’t know the protocol with the whole ‘best friends to lovers’ trope like you do, so you’re gonna have to help me out here,” Jess chuckled.

You sat back up to look at him whilst still keeping hold of his arm, “Hmm, I think what’s meant to happen next is you kiss me and ask to take me on a real date. Pretty sure that’s right.”

“Right, everyone’s favourite cliche moment,” Jess rolled his eyes jokingly but cupped your face with his palms, “God, what have you done to me?”

“You looove me,” your response was muffled as he pressed his lips to yours to shut you up, at first gently and then with a touch more urgency.

When you pulled away, he let go of your face and smiled softly, “So about that date?”

“You got it, Mariano,” you grinned, kissing him quickly once more as you paused, “But you’re going to have a tough time doing anything as romantic as annotating my favourite book and writing me a love note, you know.”

He scoffed, “Oh I’ve got plenty more where that came from, Y/N.”

“Is that a threat?” you giggled, leaning back into his side.

“Just you wait and see.”

———

ok so i kinda lost my way with this a bit eventually and i’m sorry it’s quite short but i had sooooo much fun writing it. i love jess so fucking much and i’m so grateful for all the jess requests i get — trying v hard to work through them asap because it’s so fun.

thanks for reading! here’s my masterlist for more <3

#jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano #jess mariano x you #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x reader #gilmore girls #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine

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vampwritesstuff · 3 months

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🤍 𝐒𝐊𝐙 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 (hyung line)

overprotective!little brother!ot8(separate) x older sister!reader

Request: Hello, I was excited to see you’re opening requests. I've had this idea brewing in my head but I cannot write to save my life. Am thinking of a version for each SKZ member - overprotective younger brother SKZ who's proud of your success in the corporate world (you're all he talks about and hes got them intrigued), but refuses to introduce his noona to the member because he's wary of their flirtatious ways or even crush on you. And then you turn up at an event to surprise your brother and then... I'll leave the rest to your talented imagination because I don't know what kinda ending I'd want for each SKZ member.

cw: none really, just me trying to be funny, the short scenarios are lowkey bad but it was so difficult to come up with different situations and not reuse the same one over and over 😭

Ngl, I giggled and squealed when I saw this request, thank you for being my first request for Stray Kids and I’d be happy to make this for you! Buckle up buttercup, this one’s a long one! This was taking so long to post, and I feel so terrible about that, so I’m going to make two parts for this, the next part being the Maknae line and hopefully that will be done soon! If you guys do enjoy my writing, please consider checking out my masterlist !

Bang Chan

You’re not much older than Chan, but you’re so successful at your corporate job back in Australia that Chan often talks about you to his members and sometimes his fans.

He has for sure mentioned you on his lives, and everyone can see that he really cares about his older sister.

Definitely doesn’t take kindly to fans asking if you’re single or attractive, he’s never given out your name or shown what you look like just because of that.

With the members, it’s not that he thinks they’ll purposely flirt with you, but his protective brother side just gets the better of him and he’d rather not take the chance. The boys are very interested in meeting you but even they don’t know your name or what you look like, and they love their lives enough that they don’t push Chan.

The boys are so confused when you first show up at the concert in Sydney, confused as to who you are until Chan calls you Noona, then they’re all over you once Chan (reluctantly) introduces you to them.

Personally, I don’t think they would be able to flirt with you knowing you’re their hyung’s older sister, which makes you older than them obviously.

I.N and Felix absolutely would ask if they could call you their Noona too 🥹 Seungmin would totally have to hold back on his ‘Chan is so old’ jokes just cause he doesn’t want to make you feel old.

You were waiting backstage for Chan with Hannah, your little sister had practically begged you to come with her to the Stray Kids concert. You hadn’t been to any of your little brother’s concerts before as your job always kept you busy, and you felt a little guilty that you hadn’t been able to attend before now. So when the concert date coincided with your vacation days, you knew you had to jump on the opportunity.

The cheers from the stadium arena were so loud that you wondered how Chris and his members were able to handle it. You kept yourself occupied with Hannah by talking about Chris and his friends, Hannah claimed that they were a rowdy bunch and from what you had seen online while trying to be a little involved in Chan’s idol career, you didn’t think for a second that she was wrong.

You heard him before you saw him, his voice unmistakable to you. He was laughing and joking with his members, whom you regrettably couldn’t name off the top of your head. What can you say? Chan never talks about them with you, and you don’t see much about them often enough in order to memorize them.

“Christopher Bang Chan, what do you think you’re doing to that poor boy. Put him down.” You chided your brother as you saw him walking backstage with one of the boys thrown over his shoulder. The sound of your voice made Chan stop dead in his tracks, making a few of the members behind him bump into him. “Y/n? Noona, what are you doing here?” He asked in surprise, ignoring the looks from his members, as he set down the fox looking boy and walked over to you to engulf you in one of his infamous hugs, he also pulled Hannah in for a hug too despite her protests.

“Decided to surprise you, my vacation days lined up with the concert and Hannah begged me to bring her so.. surprise?” You hummed once he let go, “Chan hyung, are you going to introduce us or are we gonna be left in the dark over here?” Seungmin pipes up. Chan definitely tenses, realizing he needed to introduce you to his friends but you beat him to it, already walking over to them. “Hi, I’m Y/n, Chris’s older sister.”

That’s all it takes for the younger ones to start asking you more questions, and your heart swells when Felix and Jeongin ask to call you Noona as well. “Yes, of course you can!”

Lee Minho

I actually don’t think Minho would talk about you much to anyone but the other members, like yeah, the fans know he has an older sister but any more information they have runs dry after that.

The boys are definitely curious though, cause Minho actually talks about you a lot with them, saying how you’re the co-CEO of a company that raises and donates money for charitable causes.

Even though he shares a lot about you to his friends, he gets weirdly protective over his calls with you cause he doesn’t get to speak with you often.

Literally locked the boys out of the dorm once cause they would not shut up while attempting to say hi to you during one of your rare phone calls.

“I am going to stuff your mouths with tissues and air fry all of you.”

Minho and the rest of Stray Kids were at a fansign event, they were all exhausted. They loved getting to interact with Stay and everything, but it always took a lot of energy from them to keep up with their fans’ excitement. Minho was the last seat, the line of fans seemingly unending to him.

You were at the fansign, unbeknownst to your poor little brother, who had tried so hard to keep you from meeting his rowdy group mates. You had introduced yourself to each member by just your name, and conversation was smooth. Weirdly enough, each boy had felt like they had heard your name and voice before, but they passed it off on being tired. You were the last in line anyway.

Minho hadn’t noticed you until you were literally standing right in front of him, had to hold himself back from leaping over the table towards you. The boys have never seen him talk so animatedly with a fan before. Then they heard him call you noona and they immediately realized who you were.

Chan may or may not have asked staff to keep you afterwards, or it might’ve been Lee Know. You won’t be finding out any time soon.

When the fansign event was over, all of the boys found themselves rushing to properly greet you. But Minho had picked you up and kept you away from them.

“Hyung! Let the pretty lady down!” Changbin whined, but that just spurred Minho to keep you to himself. “Nuh uh! My noona, you guys can’t have her!”

Seo Changbin

You’re his older sister by 5 minutes, yes you’re his twin.

You could’ve easily followed him into the idol industry, Changbin tells you all the time that your visuals would kill. But you just didn’t want that life for yourself, and he respected that.

He’s actually very proud to call you his noona, and doesn’t let anyone forget that he has a successful sister.

“My twin sister is an ambassador for a corporation, and is one of the most reputable women in her position.”

Has told the members how you were his biggest supporter during his predebut days. They secretly admire you very much for that.

Very thankful for you cause they otherwise wouldn’t have Binnie as a member and friend if not for you.

Fans know he has a twin, and you’re actually very active on his socials so fans actually know who you are, they love you. I think the boys at one point looked up your socials and got shy because of how pretty you look, definitely felt a little guilty for thinking like that, but they couldn’t help but agree with Changbin about your visuals.

Tbh, I really don’t think he would try to keep you from meeting them on purpose, they’ve definitely asked but Changbin just never had the chance to set anything up with you since both of you have extremely busy schedules.

“Binnie!” A familiar feminine pitched voice shouted from the front row, Changbin turned around quickly on stage, surprised to have even been able to hear you apart from the crowd.

Changbin excitedly moved over to the other side of the stage where you were standing in the front row, a huge smile on his face as he waved at you. The cameras caught this moment, showing you on the large projection screens in the stadium. The crowd cheered loudly at seeing the Seo siblings in the same place. Obviously, this caused the other members to noticed as well.

For the rest of the concert, each of the boys had, at some point, come around to you and interacted with you a little bit. Changbin made sure to put on a show of shooing them away from you. The rest of the concert was fun, you occasionally appearing on the screen when Changbin would start rapping as you hyped him up, cheering the loudest from your section of seats.

After the concert, some staff had corralled you backstage and a loud, excited Changbin came running up to you and picked you up in a bear hug that made you laugh loudly. Once he set you down on your feet, all the other boys had gathered around to meet you officially. You bowed respectfully as you introduced yourself and the boys couldn’t help but think you were the cutest person to bless their eyes.

Hwang Hyunjin

You’re a famous model that also owns your own clothing line, it’s also very well known that you’re Hyunjin’s older sister.

Hyunjin is always wearing something from your brand, and Stay has made a game out of finding what piece of his outfit is from your brand, it’s even got its own hashtag on social media.

Hyunjin will even model for you when he has the chance to do so, but let’s be fair, he does it everyday anyway.

He’s so proud of you, and always talks about you with anyone who will listen.

Felix is the only member who has met you because you had been at a Louis Vuitton fashion event that Felix had been invited to attend.

Hyunjin definitely wasn’t happy about not being there to introduce you himself. (And maybe worried that Felix had charmed you)

You were sat at a table, enjoying a flute of champagne and eating fancy food that you couldn’t pronounce the name of. These kinds of fashion events had always bored you, sitting at an assigned table with designers and models that you knew nothing about and having to listen to the event host drone on and on about what a privilege it is to have so many guests attending.

But your interest was suddenly piqued when the host announced that they had a few special guest models, all the way from South Korea. Your eyes widened greatly and you nearly spat out your champagne when you watched Hyunjin and seven other males step onto the the runway, modeling random designs. Your brother and his bandmates had come to this event as well and you hadn’t even known.

When the event was over, the guests were left to mingle. You immediately stood from your seat and made your way towards the table you had seen your brother sit down at. When you got there, Hyunjin had his back facing you as he spoke with Felix, who smiled when he noticed you. “This is treason, Hwang Hyunjin.”

Your sudden voice behind him made the poor boy jump in surprise and nearly spill his drink on Felix who just laughed. Hyunjin quickly turned and met your eyes with surprise. “Noona? I didn’t know you’d be here? And what’s this about treason?” He asked, still recovering from the shock.

“Modeling for someone else, I see how it is, your noona’s designs aren’t good enough anymore.” You feigned your sadness dramatically, which had Felix pitching in, “Ah, no worries, I can always replace him as your model!” Which had Hyunjin raising his hands in defense and attempting to sputter out an argument. “I may have to take you up on that offer, Jinnie doesn’t seem to love his noona anymore.” You jokingly pout, jutting out your bottom lip and looking away from your little brother with exaggerated movements.

“I see where Hyunjin gets his dramatic personality from,” Felix says, finally able to see the resemblance now that you and your little brother were standing side by side. Laughs erupted from around the three of you as the other members watched the exchange and saw both you and Hyunjin give Felix the same side eye.

“Oh yeah, I can see a resemblance, right down to their attractive looks too.” Han commented, immediately gaining a scowl from Hyunjin who very much disliked that his friends may think you were attractive, it was already apparent that Felix thought so.

Consequently, this cause Hyunjin to spend the rest of the evening corralling you away from his friends at every chance he got.

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 2 <<Part 1

-You are sitting on a bench in the lakeside park, reading a book and enjoying the bright winter sunshine when a cold nose presses into your hand. You look up to find a blue pitbull nuzzling you for pets. “Oh hi there, baby,” you coo, scratching his broad head without a thought. You follow the leash to the owner, and are very surprised to see Mr. Wick standing there, looking endearingly embarrassed about it all. “Sorry,” he says. “He pulled me over here.” He gives the dog a look as it leans against you, getting side scritches with a blissed-out doggo look. You have a notion that Mr. Wick might be jealous, somehow, but you push it away.

“That’s ok. What a good boy. What’s his name?”

“Um…Dog.”

You smirk up at him. “Original.”

He sighs, looking at you through his hair, and it pulls at your heartstrings for some reason. You pat the bench beside you, and he accepts, though he sits as far away as he can. “He likes you,” he says, looking ruefully down at the dog. “Do you have pets?”

“No,” you admit. “I travel too much.”

“Yeah?”

You can tell he’s surprised to hear this. Most people are. But you live frugally on your barista’s salary so you can go abroad for a month or so. You’re a budget traveler for sure, but you’ve been all over the world.

“Yes. I’m going to Italy this summer.”

“Sounds nice.”

“You’ve been?”

“Several times. For work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m retired.” He doesn’t elaborate, and you leave it for now. You don’t really talk anymore, just look at the lake, and pet his dog who leans all his solid weight against your leg. You are content in the companionable silence.

You think he is too.

- It’s interesting sometimes, watching the interpersonal pageants of the regulars. When thrice divorced Victoria Fraser-Sims lays eyes on Mr. Wick for the first time in what you have come to consider his corner, she starts coming in for a lot more no-fat double-shot sugar-free vanilla lattés. All the locals are quite…aware…of Vicky’s predatory habits. A part of you wonders if you should warn Mr. Wick, but you reckon a single man who looks like him is quite used to fending off hungry cougars.

She starts by sitting near his table in her tight workout clothes, ostensibly bending over to pick up repeatedly dropped objects, affording various views of her generous cleavage and spin-class toned rear end. You know you have no right to feel so pleased that Mr. Wick seems to ignore her.

But then she ups her game, so bold as to sit down at his table with him to chat. He talks to her politely. One day, she actually succeeds in making him laugh. You hear it, loosed like an arrow that strikes you from across the room.

You have zero right to be jealous, of course, but you can’t help it. You and Mr. Wick have a thing.

Maybe just in your own head, but still.

But maybe they would be a good couple, you reason sadly, making yourself think realistically. Closer to the same age. And he does seem so lonely.

A few days later they come in the door together, seeming content, and your heart plummets to your feet. Holy shit, she actually pulled it off. They’re dating, you’re perfectly convinced.

In that moment you decide to back off. Mr. Wick is at least twenty years your elder. What the fuck would he want with an awkward little gremlin like you? It’s amazing sometimes, how well you can delude yourself. A curse of having a vivid imagination, perhaps. He’s just polite, and you are kind to him, because he seems a little broken. You resolve to behave. No more quips. No more teasing. From this day forward it shall be only, Here’s your coffee, yes sir, have a good day.

You’ve never been terribly good at keeping resolutions, but you’re going to try.

-Your determination to leave Mr. Wick alone is timed conveniently with a new hire who is around your age. He is and cute, and you get on immediately. Your flirting is fairly harmless, though you know the shop is filled with loud laughter from the two of you when your shifts coincide. Sometimes you feel Mr. Wick looking over at you after you’ve had a good chortle, and you sense he is annoyed.

Once, you catch him glaring at Brian’s back like he might like to carve the boy’s liver.

You try to quiet down, but it never really lasts. It’s been a while, since you’ve met someone who you click with so well. A comrade makes working in the service industry slightly more endurable, after all.

-One day, you burn yourself on the steamer wand while Mr. Wick is waiting for his order. Maybe it’s the volume of the unladylike expletive that spills from your lips, but he does not hesitate to come around the counter to check on you. It hurts like a motherfucker, and while you blink back tears you are quick to dig out ice to put on it. He even more quickly bats it into the sink, flipping the faucet on. “Cold water is better.”

Before you know it he is guiding your wrist into the stream with a gentle but exacting grip. “Hold that there,” he instructs. You can’t fathom disobeying him.

Brian stares rather dumbfoundedly at the customer behind the counter. “Um…sir? You can’t be back here.”

“Then get her the first aid kit instead of standing there looking useless,” he snaps, and the young man jumps into action, scurrying away.

John gives a low whistle once you’ve finished with the cold water, blotting you dry at the butt end of the counter. “You got yourself good.”

“It’s not the first time,” you sigh. You’re not particularly clumsy, but it happens when you’re juggling five things at once to keep the drink orders moving.

John bandages the burn for you, frowning at the salve provided in the first aid kit that expired years ago, but deciding it will do in a pinch. His long-fingered hands are precise, but gentle, and as he touches you, you feel your brain turn to mush. You can’t remember the last time someone took care of you like this.

Maybe he’s not mad at you after all.

Later that day you appear from the back, to find a little paper pharmacy bag on the counter with your name written in concise black print. Inside there is more ointment, large Band-aids, and a little Snickers chocolate bar.

How did he know it’s your favorite?

Even though you didn’t see him come or go, you know it was Mr. Wick, and this small gesture touches you to tips of your toes.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #yandere john wick #yandere #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick fic #john wick imagine

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fox-bee926 · 10 months

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My Tailor

Harvey Specter x fem!reader

Masterlist A/N: holy shit dudes I finally did it. It was hard and full of procrastination. But I did it. I might make another one. I might not. At this point consistency is a figment of my imagination. (not really edited don't come for me) Anyway! Enjoy! TW: suggestive talking, but only a bit of a joke. Nothing really scandalous or anything of the sort; Harvey being jealous Word Count: ~997 (nothing real crazy dw)

(Third POV)

Mike walks up to the door of Ms. Tailor’s Thread and Needle, business card in hand. The sign says closed, and the shop seems dark, but there is obvious movement. He is just about to knock on the door when it swings open. The woman seems very surprised when he stumbles back, rubbing his hands on his pants.

“Hello... Do you work here?”

“No, I sneak in just to eat my lunch.”

Mike looks panicked for a moment, then composes himself. “By the sarcasm, I assume you do. I was sent by Harvey Specter. He has made his opinion on my suits very clear.”

“Of course he did, they’re terrible," Mike looks down, confused, thinking they were top of the line. "I’m Ms. Taylor, come on in.” Ms. Taylor opens the door wider, but keeps the sign flipped to closed. She smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress pants. “The other girls went out for lunch but Jessie told me I had a priority one booking. I’m going to assume that’s you.”

Mike walks into the shop and looks around. He stops in his tracks with a deer in headlights look. “Wait a minute, Harvey told me not to talk to you.”

“Did he now? Oh, don’t worry about him, honey. I promise he won’t mind.” The door shuts closed and Ms. Taylor turns the rest of the floor lights on as she grabs a small box of tools.

Mike goes to stand on the raised platform encircled by lights. “Are you sure? He seemed pretty... clear. Just as clear as his hating of my suits.”

“Positive, Mike. Now, let’s see what we’re working with. Oh, and please, call me Y/N.”

___

(Second POV)

You unlock the door to your shared apartment with Harvey. Mike had talked to you quite a bit about his time at Pearson Hardman. Especially how much of an ass Harvey had been to him. You had thought about talking Harvey into easing up on him, but in the end you decided against it. Harvey was bound to be upset hearing you two even talked at all.

“He just said not to talk to you. No explanation or anything. I was worried that you had torn his suit or something.”

“I tore the buttons off one time, but that was completely non-work related. I’ll talk to him when I get home. For now, just say Jessie tailored you. Have a good day, hun, and good luck.”

You couldn’t lie, you were a bit upset that Harvey told his own associate not to let you tailor him. You had tailored every person even remotely close to Harvey, even Louis. However, Harvey’s jealousy was understandable. After Louis had not so subtly flirted with you, and not so subtly got his pockets’ seams ripped, Harvey was weary of sending his male coworkers to you for a suit.

The sound of the front door closing and your bag hitting the floor caught the attention of said Harvey Specter from the kitchen. As soon as your eyes met, he knew he was in trouble. Harvey waited patiently, wine glass in hand, in silence as you took your coat and heels off. Finally, you spoke.

“You told your own associate not to be tailored by me?”

“That little snitch. I knew something was up when he said Jessie had tailored him. You would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one.”

“That’s right. I would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one. I would never send anyone but myself to tailor a priority one, and you knew that. Yet, you were going to have Mike get a below-standard tailor job because you couldn’t handle your girlfriend hemming the pants of your coworker.” The more you talked, the more you realized just how angry you were.

You and Harvey had had this conversation several times. You always said how you could handle yourself when male clients tried getting frisky (they always tried,) and Harvey said that he hates you getting so close to his male coworkers.

“This is- This is ridiculous! I shouldn’t have to ask you not to tailor my coworkers! I don’t like your hands being so close to their... inseam.” He made a confused face for a moment before going back to his rant. “How should I feel knowing that every man you tailor in New York feels your hands on him? How should that make me feel other than angry and very, very shitty?” His hands gripped the counter in frustration, and you copied the motion.

“You should feel angry. But you should also trust that the only thing I’m doing is poking a needle very close to their ‘inseam,’ as you put. I promise you, I can handle myself.” You reached across the counter and wrapped your hand around his.

Harvey hung his head, knowing he wouldn’t be getting anywhere. Also knowing, deep down, that he was overreacting a bit. “Fine. I’m sorry. But I’m still not going to recommend anyone unless absolutely necessary.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You walked around to his side of the counter and wrapped your arms around him, leaning your head against his back. He smelled of ballpoint pen and whatever cologne he decided to wear that day. You could never tell them apart, but you’d never tell him that.

After a minute or two he turned around in your arms and gently placed his hands on your face.

“What would I do without you?”

“Not have the best tailored suits in New York City, at the very least.” You both chuckled and he placed a small kiss on your lips. “To be fair, I wouldn’t have the first clue how I would survive without you.”

“Well, for one you wouldn’t have the best kisser in New York City.” You let out a loud giggle and a few murmurs “oh really?” as he attacked your face with kisses of various weight. Finally, he left a passionate kiss on your lips, right where he started. He brushed a lock of hair out from in front of your face.

“What is a man without his best suit, anyways?”

#fics by foxbee #bonus in the tags #fanficiton #harvey specter #suits #harvey specter x reader #xreader #fem!reader #fics

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livingemkayde · 9 months

Text

ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?” What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head.

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it.

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy.

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.”

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink.

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully.

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all.

“No, I don’t think —”

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes.

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far.

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.”

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.”

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?”

“Why.”

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.”

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.”

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice.

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink.

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside.

“Hello?”

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes.

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window.

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight?

“Jesus. No — no.”

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly.

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.”

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought.

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl.

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.”

Love you, bye.

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately.

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good.

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys.

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers.

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment.

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things.

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day.

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief.

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before.

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten.

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say.

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar.

“I did good, didn’t I?”

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now.

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever.

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do.

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy.

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely.

Jealous? Yeah. That one.

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can.

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving.

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice.

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long.

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back.

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.”

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away.

Good for him.

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone.

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore?

“You alright?”

You snap your head to Tommy again.

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears.

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.”

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one.

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind — saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault.

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet.

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears?

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?”

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop.

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one.

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips.

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?”

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.”

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs.

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back.

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers.

You can see her better in this light.

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older.

More like Tommy — more like Joel.

More age appropriate.

Less like you.

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit.

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud.

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs.

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods.

“What did you study?”

“English.”

“Ah. English. Remember those days.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink.

Great. Journalist.

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you.

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation.

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd.

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze.

How could you be so stupid?

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel.

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start.

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway.

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel.

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him.

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose.

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night.

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed.

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building.

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through.

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes.

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser.

Maybe you want it to hurt.

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is.

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude.

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough.

“You should come. Right, Joel?”

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother.

“To my party?”

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower.

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?”

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere.

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face.

Jesus.

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met.

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Need some air,” you say.

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends.

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away.

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words.

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—”

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you.

“I do — wanna help.”

You smile shyly.

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.”

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar.

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.”

“Maybe,” you echo.

Suddenly, the air feels less playful.

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you.

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.”

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face.

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you—

Stop this.

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever.

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —”

I like you. I want you. I need you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities.

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you.

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind.

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead—

“Where are you goin’?”

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you.

Because that’s all you want. You just want him.

“Home.”

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it.

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his.

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave.

Please.

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all.

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer.

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too.

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes.

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man.

Not like Tommy.

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately.

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken.

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment.

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that.

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to.

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside.

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed.

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck.

You grumble with him.

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.”

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving.

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.”

You smile lazily at him.

“Like you aren’t?”

He laughs back.

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash.

Tommy speaks first.

“What’d you and Joel talk about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much.

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.”

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar.

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.”

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.”

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well thanks anyways.”

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness.

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?”

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question.

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle.

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.”

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest.

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes.

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away.

Tommy continues when you don’t respond.

“Took her home though.”

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart.

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all.

“Really?”

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life.

Tommy pulls up to your driveway.

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park.

“Is that — like — an issue?”

Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?”

“No. Think she’s good for him.”

There it is again.

Good for him.

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion.

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements.

You don’t pull away.

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face.

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away.

“Jesus.”

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time.

You’re scared of what he might say.

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips.

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?”

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now.

“No, like — like a date. I guess.”

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

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